#if anyone wants to buy me a game my wallet would love that

[ceruleanfuckup]

My roommate just gave me a steam deck for free 👀 that means I have access to playing Hades 2 again. 😭🙌

[sucodelaranja86]

- i'm sorry ( part 1 ) : ★

pairing: hyun-ju cho x reader ☆

summary: waking up in a strange place and being forced to play life or death childhood games was not what you were expecting. What you were expecting even less was to find your girlfriend there. However, her protectiveness comes out in a way she did not mean.

warnings: transphobia, canon violence.

A/N: my first work, please be nice. Requests are open. (PART 2 IS ALREADY OUT)

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

➤ Everyday. Every single hour that passed felt painful. As you walked through the streets, your heart stung like thousands of little glass pieces shattered and made deep cuts inside of it.

You felt dumb, you felt stupid. Seeing couples around the street; kissing, holding hands, taking pictures... It was something you had, but you knew you couldn't get anything more than those simple actions. The feeling reminded you of when you were single, but you had a girlfriend now- an amazing one, that is. So why were you feeling like this, you say?

Your partner, as amazing and flawless as she was (and you reminded her of it every single time), simply couldn't see herself as so. You could kiss her, snuggle her, love her as much as you could, but it wouldn't get past that. She wouldn't allow it.

You were tired, exhausted. All you wanted, all you asked for, your simple wish was for her to see herself as gorgeous as you saw her. Why couldn't you love her in public without her fear of unwanted attention? Why couldn't you give a simple step on your relationship without having to comfort and reassure her for hours over the simple fact that she was, indeed, a real woman?

Both you and her were drowning in debt, but you couldnt shake the painful and dark feeling inside the deepest spots of your heart. So you worked, worked, worked, and worked. Sharing the bills with Hyun-ju, buying food, buying basic home supplies, paying for your faculty... Until you simply couldn't work anymore. If having those surgeries meant that you could finally have a real relationship with her, then so be it. Right?

Your determination was quickly shattered after passing out on the streets and having your wallet and phone stolen. Your worried partner, who came after you on the way to your job after you didn't return home 2 hours later than expected, was relieved that you were unharmed. You got a scolding to rest properly, a warm meal, a prepared shower... Everything was perfect, right?

Except for the fact that you and her just lost 4 months worthy of saving for a damn surgery.

Well, isn't that so great?

"my love, please don't blame yourself. I am not mad at you." her comforting words did nothing to soothe you, and you had a lingering sensation that they only served to make you more feel more anxious.

"i'm sorry, Hyun-ju. I am so sorry- please forgive me."

"Shh. It's alright. I am- i am not mad. I have already said it." her comforting tone that meant to calm and comfort you held an undeniable disappointed tone. You could feel her holding her tears with the knowledge that one of her possible surgeries would undeniably need to wait for an unplanned, extended period of time. And that saddened you even further.

You were the worst.

-

You hold painfully your bruised arm, stumbling across the dark and lone streets. You finally managed to give the final payment of your debt, but they didn't simply let 5 months of delay slide. You were absolutely broke, but you didn't own anyone now.

Anyone but yourself.

What would you say to Hyun-ju once you stepped inside your home? Hey, i lost all our money that we saved for a high step on your transition, but i've managed to clear all my debts!

On the way back home, you were contemplating on what to say or do, when an elegant man approached you. He had a cat-like smirk (that you were sure that held anything but good Intentions), he was dressed in a black suit which didn't possess a single flaw, and had a dark suitcase that matched his entire eerie aura.

As he walked towards you, your path was sealed before you even knew it.

If you could help your girlfriend, anything was worth it. Right?

-

Waking up in a green uniform in a strange place that held multiple people inside a closed dorm was not what you were expecting.

And you know what else you were absolutely not expecting?

"what the hell are you doing here-?!"

Seeing her getting slapped in a big television in front of all the players, and afterwards finding her personally after the first game. What a lovely surprise.

"I- i could be the one asking you this!"

"Didn't you quit all your debts? You shouldn't be-" she was quickly interrupted.

"How do you even know this?!"

"Do you think you can simply hide important things like these from me, and expect me not to know?"

You always hated arguing with her. Mostly because all the time she was right most of the times. She was caring, mature, and all she did was look out for you. But this time, you felt like you needed to get your point across.

"Tell me, and truthfully. Why are you here if you debts are all paid? Are you hiding something from me-" she was, once again, interrupted.

"I just want to help you with your surgeries!"

A ringing and uncomfortable silence was placed between the two of you. You looked down, unable to meet her expression. You couldn't.

"Hyun-ju, i want to-"

"This is none of your business. Step out of my problems like you are my mother. I didn't ask you to come here. I- i never asked you to."

And with that, she left to her bed. Leaving you alone with intruding thoughts and a situation you couldn't resolve on your own.

What could you do?

-

[themissinghand]

Mind if I could have a SAGAU request? So the player is burnt out from the game. Like completely. Some characters find a way to your desktop and ask "Why haven't you entered Teyvat lately?" After explaining that you still like/love them, they are disappointed but understandable. Problem is, they can't go back until you launch the game. So the characters sort of become desktop buddies (Showing my age aren't I?) and perhaps helping you out in the various other games the player would play or just vibing as you surf the web, make arr, write stories, etc. As for the characters... Aether and Paimon at least, though adding Kazuha, Yanfei, Freminet, Bennett, Fischl, Childe, and Collei would be cute too.

Genshin Impact Desktop Buddies

Summary: In which your favourite Genshin characters miss you. 

Or now you have them as your desktop buddies until Genshin Impact is fixed.

Pairings: Aether & Paimon, Kazuha, Yanfei, Childe and Fischl x Neutral! Reader! 

Note: Desktop buddies are ancient now lol, but honestly such a cool thing to have back then. Hope you enjoy! 

Warning: None, just fluffy goodness. 

★・・・・・・★

You’re tired. Like really tired. 

Grinding for artifacts, ascension and weapon materials has worn you out. That includes your wallet too.

They were worth it, no doubt about that, but staring at a screen all day every day could tire anyone out. 

And yea, you need sleep. 

For the first time in a long time, you decided to shut down the game, and take at least a few day break. 

It’s not like it would make a big difference right? 

Little did you know, it most definitely would. 

Just a few days later, not only did your laptop started acting weird to the point where you thought of buying a new one, Genshin also disappeared from your desktop. 

Before you knew it, you see little figures that look oddly familiar on your screen…

“Why haven’t you entered Teyvat lately?”

Aether & Paimon

The player spun around, eyes widening at the sight of Aether and Paimon now out of the game, and...hopping around on your screen.

"Aether? Paimon? How... how are you here?".

Aether stepped forward. 

"Our Creator, we've missed you. The others are worried. Why haven't you been to Teyvat?"

You sighed, has it already been a couple of days? Also, since when were you their creator? 

"I'm just a little tired-” There was a dramatic gasp from Paimon.

“Tired of us? Aether! Our Creator is tired of us!” 

“No! I mean, I still love Teyvat and all of you, but I needed a break and I will go back soon." You quickly responded with reassurance, which luckily appeased the floating companion. 

Paimon floated closer, which was like a weird zoom on her face, her eyes softening with understanding. 

"We get it, but... we can't go back to Teyvat until you' launch' the game." She says robotically, but appeared confused right after.

“Ah, okay. Give me a minute.” 

When you tried to download the game via the Genshin website, it stated that there was a website maintenance. 

“Creator! What is happening? The world is changing!” While you were frustrated, Aether and Paimon were jumping and flying everywhere around your screen, exploring how tabs open and following your mouse as you click and hover.

Their curiosity made you smile, and you slowly explain how everything works slowly as with each passing second, they marvel at how advanced your world is. 

“No wonder you’re our Creator!” 

“What’s this!?” Before you knew it, you pulled up multiple websites, and the one you landed on was Disney+.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” 

“What’s that?” Aether asked, curious, followed by Paimon’s cute little head tilt.

(You wished you could just squeeze those cute little cheeks-)

“It’s like telling a story, but you get to see it unfold right before you. Here.” You pull up ‘My Little Mermaid’ and they jump seeing the video move, with everyone inside move. 

“Woah…it’s like another world!” 

Aether seemed to marvel over it, and for a moment, he wondered, maybe, you could traverse worlds too. 

Seeing the stars in their eyes made you feel guilty, as if another misunderstanding arose, but you let them be, as their cute little figures sat down and watched the movie. 

You too, watched it with them, and for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel lonely. 

Throughout the movie, you patted them on the head with your mouse, which the two seemed to like very much. 

(And yes, you did pinch those cute little cheeks)

Kazuha 

“I’m glad that you didn’t abandon us, Your Highness.” 

Never in your wildest dreams did you expect to see THE Canadian Aether, Kazuha, on your screen, bowing respectfully to you.

“Let me know if I can help you in any way. Although my form is…not in the most helpful form, I will do my best.” 

You held back a giggle when you saw a shy little Kazuha looking at himself and then at you shyly, and you really wanted to tease him, but you chose not to. 

Instead, you pull up your incomplete art project. 

Might as well since you can’t download Genshin now and might have to wait for a few days.

“Actually Kazuha, I was hoping you could help me finish my art.” He immediately perked up, a serious expression overtook his shy one.

“Of course, Your Highness, let me know what you want to draw and I can help you!”

“Great! I’m trying to draw a handsome and cute man, he has platinum blond hair…” Slowly, you list one by one, the characteristics of the person you want to draw. 

Kazuha learns fast. Soon, he was able to figure out how your art platform worked. 

At first, he hesitated, and didn’t want to interrupt your drawing, but slowly, he learned to add in his thoughts and feedback, and guided your mouse to smooth out the lines, and perfect the colouring.

“He has red eyes…” 

Calming and soothing, his voice made you feel at peace, just like how you would hang out with him at the top of a mountain somewhere and listening to the game music. 

But this time, he was a little closer, where he felt more real albeit still in your screen. 

“Your Highness…isn’t this…me?” His little cheeks was dusted with pink as he quickly covered it with his hands. 

“It is you.” 

“But why…”

“Because you’re one of my favourites, Kazuha.” 

It was all it took for him to become shy again, and he began to cough awkwardly as if to mask his embarrassment. 

“Thank you…Your Highness.”

Yanfei

“Phew! We were so scared that you left us Your Eminence! But…I suppose we can’t do anything until you open up Teyvat again, until then, let me know if I can help you!” 

Yanfei's cheerful voice made you smile as you leaned against your palm. 

Then she turned around, as if taking in her surroundings before looking back at you. 

“Your Eminence, if I may, may I help you organize your…space?”  You blink, and that was when you notice the amount of files littered across the desktop screen, and you realized that from Yanfei’s view, it must’ve been very unorganized.

“Sure.” 

Yanfei brightens at your acceptance, and hopped a little to show her excitement. 

“Okay! I’m good at this, so leave it to me! Just follow my lead.” 

You were gonna clean up your PC eventually, though you did not expect it would be today. 

Either way, Yanfei was like a referee and a police, asking questions but also making sure everything was organized correctly. 

In a way, Yanfei felt like a Mom asking her child to clean her room.

Even so, it was so cute to see her marching everywhere like a soldier and asking you to organize it in a neat manner.

“Okay, next, let’s organize this folder!” 

“Okay-” Before you knew it, you immediately hit backspace. 

“Your Eminence…who was that-”

“Let’s move on.” But Yanfei stared at that folder with an intense stare. Did she see it? 

With a little nudge and push with your mouse, Yanfei eventually moved on, but she constantly had a smile on her lips. 

It was you cosplaying as her for an event. 

Yanfei would be sure to tell her friends back home. 

Childe

“Well, I’m happy to hear that, Your Highness! But…what were you doing? Away from Teyvat?”

Childe’s smile was a little bit menacing to look at, so you pull up what you were doing before to distract him.

And it did, surprisingly. 

“What is this?”

“It’s a game called Valorant.” 

You start the game, and once you get prepared, he too was locked in. 

With each attack and maneuver, Childe slowly became hyped up by your skill and admired it. 

“Your Highness! Why didn’t you tell me before?!” He became to gush, albeit trying to remain civil as he looked between you and your character in game. 

“Again.” In the end, he asked (begged) for another show. 

This time, you changed your agent to someone else, and once again, showed how skilled you are even in melee, which Childe initially advised against. 

But you blew his expectations away. 

“Your Highness, can I duel you?” 

You blink, before you laugh jokingly, but you knew in real life, Childe would absolutely crush you.

But you leave him be, and instead start another game. 

Honestly, Childe would be a great hype man. 

Fischl

“Ah, of course! How the stars seem to be against us this time…regardless! With me, Fischl von Luftschloss Narfidort here, there is nothing you need to worry about!” 

As expected, Fischl is quite the actor and storyteller as she spews on about how she faced something similar before, something just as interstellar as this. 

You don’t mind it, after all, if you did, you wouldn’t have Fischl on your team the entire time would you? 

Fischl deserves more love is what you find in the fandom, and while she may be annoying at times, you found her passion admirable, and even a little sad when you think this is her way of happiness. 

So you respected that, and listened as she rambled on, and moved as if she was on the stage. 

Perhaps…she would do good on stage with Furina in Fontaine. 

“Fischl, I do need your help on something.” You asked when she finally finished, and she straightened herself with grace as expected from the Prinzessin der Verurteilung. 

“I need your help with my stories. I want you to create elaborate and dramatic narratives for everyone to love.” She froze for a moment, but her grin immediately hid her surprise. 

“Why of course, I would be delighted. Allow me!” With just a few seconds to think, she immediately began her storytelling. 

With her little graceful steps and hops, she almost dances away, but she doesn’t stop sharing her fantasy story full of magic, fate, and stars. 

It was hard to keep up, but you didn’t want to disappoint her, so you did your best to type her word by word. 

Luckily, she seemed to slow down to match your pace, as if the two of you were a duet with the piano and violin. 

When she stops, you end off the story with a dramatic click, and you match her prideful smile. 

Truly, Fischl is a character not everyone can handle, but that’s alright.

After all, you love her for who she is, and maybe, Fischl appreciated that more than anything else.

[ronearoundblindly]

For the dirty A-Z headcanon game can I get an A for Steve Rogers?

From this ask game, and I love you to the end of the line, anon, because this is pretty much THE one I wanted to answer...

A - Alone Time

How does he get off when all by himself?

Does he watch porn?

Is it all in his imagination?

Does he jerk off?

Does he use toys?

In case it wasn't obvious... MINORS DNI (vaguely coded to be gender neutral for the possibility of steve x reader or stucky or whatever your flavor)

Here we go, babes. I know I've written several different versions of Steve in various universes, but this is gonna be more generalized and not involve the very specific background experiences I've written into other things. This is just my good ol' fashioned headcanon of Steve masturbating!

This man takes his time--or at least would prefer to--even when it's just him. He will gently touch/play with himself for a while before grabbing his dick. Grazing his nails over his thighs. Pinching his nipples. I think this dude really has a thing with his throat? Like he thinks about teeth along his neck or being pulled forward by it and, yes, a squeeze or two. Don't flame me, I'm just saying!

He craves foreplay, is what I mean, and I don't think Steve feels fully aroused unless more than just his genitals are involved in the act, ya know?

He watches porn, but only for examples. There's a whole lot in modern pornography that is a huge turn-off for him. Steve uses certain imagery or sounds/sayings that he found in porn and kinda edits them together for his pleasure later--like mentally edits, lord knows, because that man would not get the hang of Final Cut Pro OR iMovie, feel me?--plus that way he can imagine a certain someone's voice actually saying those things to him or doing them to him.

Which brings us to Steve's imagination which is unbelievably vivid and runs rampant. Think about it: he's a strategist. He has to see tons of possible scenarios play out all at once, analyze where that leads and where that leaves him, and then plan to thwart or redirect all that happens into an ideal outcome. Don't tell me that artist does not have an incredible mind's eye.

Then we get to Steve finally touching himself expressly to come.

He's toyed with himself for a while, maybe gotten close but held back, probably enjoyed finding friction not with his fist. For some reason, I thoroughly believe he has a thing for fabrics? This guy enjoys the glide of silk and satin. I bet his sheets are nice and slick so he can thrust against them a little and think of a pretty skirt or a dressy, formal glove.

Actual toys? Like the kind advertised as sex toys? Like the kind he'd have to purchase with money in some capacity? No. I think shy Steve hasn't figured out a way to discreetly (and by that I mean, untraceably) do that. He refuses to use anything online attached to his name--credit card or secondary/digital wallet whatever--to buy something or to tell someone what he would want them to buy for him because then that person would know! He'd keel over from embarrassment right then and there!! ARE YOU INSANE?!?!

No. What Steve will do is get seemingly useful things for innocuous reasons and play dumb blond if anyone ever insinuates it could be a sex toy. That man can and will absolutely lie like a champ to keep those secrets. That man is a super soldier but his muscles still get sore; that's what the massager is for, not his taint, nuh-uh no how. How dare you ask him!

Which brings us to the climax: his climax.

Steve prefers to finish in the shower. He's spent all that time enjoying the feel of his hands or various textures, the dry (but not painful) drag of everything before the slick lubrication of lotion or conditioner creates a welcome high under the spray of water, and then, yes, he can clean himself right off afterward. Highly efficient. Also very effective at training his brain to get off quickly in a shower if necessary.

Strategy, you guys, it's all about strategy.

Thank you for asking!

A/N: Are my answers to these like an audition for the Shameless Hoe Club? Maybe. Or maybe Ro has just lost the ability to filter herself...or care 🤭

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[sociomoony]

Yo bbg gorl you should totally write some head cannons abt ur top 3 favorite jjk characters.

Also would you be opposed to writing silly little things abt it Ocs if you have any currently. (Feed me wife pls I am starving of ur presence and writing 😫

-Love, your FAVORITE wife 🥰😘

Top 3 favorites head cannons? I can sure try 😭🙏 (and absolutely, I'll have something out about Ocs if that's what you wish!!!) I love you my beautiful wife 🫶

Headcannons- General + Romantics (I am a fanfic wrighter, watchu want from me 😞)

Includes - Megumi, Noritoshi, Takuma

Headcannons!!!

(1) Megumi Fushiguro

•Now we love our little urchin haired boy!! And to be completely honest, his classmates have to had mentioned that at least once to him. I mean it's just so- fitting 😭 spikey on the outside, vulnerable on the inside! For a while, Megumi hated it, but started to think it might actually make him sound cool considering how painful urchins could be (that didn't last long at all)

•Has 100% called Gojo 'Dad' in school before. He has never been able to live it down from Gojo, but after Gojo's end, Megumi started referring to him as dad a little more freely to Yuji and Nobara when mentioning him.

•The bag carrier anytime the friend group goes out. This is more fact than head cannons but I find it funny. Yuji will start out as the carrier, but of course something will catch his eye. He'll give Megumi the bags to hold, and then never grab them again, and Meg's just goes along with it because why not. Not that big of a deal

•Has the little note Gojo wrote him kept tucked away in his wallet at all times. Over time it got older and more frail, so he framed it. It sits on a table at his bedside now.

•Megumi hates to ever admit to anyone, but he deeply misses Gojo, and it's clear as day, he just hates admitting it. He has openly cried ONCE to Yuji about him, and couldn't stop for hours.

---Romantics--~

•Megumi used to hate physical affection, but now when he gets it he sinks into it. It doesn't even have to be romantic actually, if Yuji hugs him, he'll protest, and then just melt.

•Is very cautious of who he's with. You can't blame him, most people that were supposed to be important to him have left or disappeared and randomly came back. He was upset at Yuji for it, and he doesn't make exceptions. It will take months, maybe even years of knowing him before he let's you in, and he won't be quick about it.

•The type of guy to take you out every morning for something to eat. He doesn't have much value for money besides his essentials, for he fears he won't be around long, especially after what happened. Why would he spend money on things he likes when they could go to waste one day?... Don't tell him he's being hypocritcal when he's insisting on you both going somewhere you've been gushing about, but he won't just buy the game he's been talking about for weeks.

•Not big on sweets, but he eats them around you. He's more wary about being different or not exactly ideal, so on your first few go- rounds, he tries eating the sweetest things... Sugar cookie cake pops, red velvet cookies, chocolate moose cake... But when you hear from a passing conversation from him and Yuji of how he doesn't like sweets because they hurt his teeth, you're quick to ask him about it. He tries to ignore it and change the topic, but your firm on it since it truly isn't a big deal. The small detail turns into him breaking down about wanting to be good for you, especially since his flaws chalk him down to being difficult to deal with. Your confused on why such a small thing would make him this upset, but to him it was more than that... He just wanted to be normal for you, not a Jujutsu sorcerer, not a fatherless guy with raging daddy issues, he just wanted to be good for you..

•Comfort goes both ways. If you're in the slightest bit of distress, he's not so quick to tell you to suck it up like he might his friends. Why would he? You're someone who stays with him because you love him, not tolerate, and believe me when I say he'd go lengths to make you feel better. But most of the time you both settle for laying down in one of your rooms and just talking or sleeping for a few hours. When it comes to him, it's almost the exact same thing. It's a routine you both do, with blankets and warm, comforting words or silly stories to ease or distract, and honestly that's enough for both of you.

(2) Noritoshi Kamo

•You guys I'm so normal about this man I swear

•Got made fun of when he first arrived at the sister school. He was awkward and quiet, and anytime he spoke he had that attitude to him that made you double take.

•has thought about cutting his hair multiple times just to try different styles. He tried when he was younger to make a Mohawk, and got majorly chewed out for it.

•Refuses to partake in the few times parents ever came up in conversation. He had grown more accustomed to the others, and became more open to them, but when it came to talking about family he shut down. Todo has tried to speak with him about it, but it just pissed Nori off and ended in him calling Todo nothing but a mindless hunk of meat. The two don't talk much anymore.

•He will be the first to call Miwa useless. He finds her skills pathetic in the real world and doesn't care for her 'theatrics'...

•When Mechamaru died, Noritoshi sat with the same Miwa he hated, called useless, and held her as she cried for hours. He stopped calling her useless, especially after her sacrifice during Shibuya. She became his closest friend in a small amount of time, and she was the first to openly know about his mother.

•A little more random, but I feel like Noritoshi would be the type to listen to She Wants Revenge and Sleep Token

---Romantics--~

•Has used his blood manipulation to form small items like a heart and such for his partner on multiple occasions, even if it hurts him a little in the long run.

•insists on teaching you how to use a bow like him. He gets a little pissy when you continuously get it wrong, but he's quick to realize it himself and correct it to a silly sassy attitude. He apologizes after, even if you didn't see anything of it.

•He dates to marry, especially with rules from his clan. If you come into his life, you'll be damn sure to not leave without a hell of a fight.

•with a female partner, he tries his best to help you with your period. He's been told blood manipulation can help, but he's a little clumsy with it since he wasn't exactly taught about woman's reproductive things. He treats you like royalty when your time comes, though. For his beloved to be hurting to the point she can't get out of bed? Treason would be his deciding fate if he could for what hurts you, but he settles for treating you rather than hating your reproductive organs. He gives you the essentials, chocolate, snacks, medicine, etc, but he doesn't stay with you much unless you need him there. He takes it as more time to train without being worryful if he gets too aggressive with you watching.

•He doesn't like you seeing him angry. He's naturally a calm man, but the few times he's gone overboard, he fears for what you think of him, fears that you might be scared of him..

•His music taste is interesting.. But one of his main love languages would definitely be you listening to his music choices if that was an option. It's actually acts of service, but he gets just as giddy whenever you listen to things with him. Whether it be while he's training you both listen with an earbud, or laying in bed and letting it play on the speakers while you both make out or do something to pass the time.

(3) Ino Takuma

•Nanami's death hit him hard. He didn't know right away, and had to be told by someone. I think that's what hurt worse, is that he wasn't there.. He couldn't help him, couldn't try to save him. He could have showed Nanmi his teaching worked, that he was a good teacher, but he wasn't there. He beats himself up for it a lot, but you best bet he got first grabs on Nanami's things. He wears his watch, used his weapon, he held onto those things like they were too fragile to be touched by another.

•when the situation happened with Toji, he quite literally cried like a baby when he got back, because first, ow, and second, he got beat so quickly, he feared Nanami would think even less of him.

•To be fair, I feel like he saw Nanami as the closest thing to a father figure he'd ever get. He has RAGING daddy issues, and it shows.

•Hasnt washed that mask/beanie in YEARS. Anytime someone steals it or tries to wear it, because he can even argue to give it back, they are shoving it against his chest, coughing like they just opened a century old book.

•Typical skater punk like dude. He has tried to act the part, but in reality if you made a fart joke he's loose his mind in laughter.

•Speaking of that, he has the WORST sense of humor. He unironically quotes Skibidi toilet things or some weird song he heard on tiktok that you can only deter to be the most brain rotting things ever. He's a fucking lunatic for things like that, and will laugh his ass off if he sees or hears it.

•Listens to music on a constant, no matter the condition (unless it's fighting, he doesn't want to loose his precious earbuds) but with training, walking on the streets, making food, anything, he's listening to music. His taste is actually pretty decent

---Romantics--~

(A little bit of NSFW since this man is of age)

•Hes CLINGY. If you go anywhere, he's very quick to follow. You walk into a room? Everyone knows Takuma will be a few steps behind. You're idly talking to someone? His arms are around your midsection with his chin on your shoulder. Walking the streets? He's beside you holding your hand or with an arm around your shoulder.

•Lends you any sweatshirt you want. He has too many, but you can't just get away with it that easily. He will request something back. You jokingly gave him a crop top back once, and he wore it around with style. You know that trend of girls giving their boyfriends makeup only to find out they look better than them? That was basically what Takuma was serving.

•I'm pretty sure we've all agreed Takuma would worship the grounds you walk on. He's deadly respectful, not just to you, but most anyone. Elderly, young, you name it. He will put you on a podium above the rest, he will carry you when your feet hurt, he'll open any door for you, he'll fix your heels for you, all of that. He'd let you step on him if it makes you feel good, as long as your happy, he's happy. However, it's gotten to the point you've had to tell him willingly letting someone do the things he says you can do isn't okay. When you get upset, he offers to be who you take it out on, and you've had to tell him over and over again that you would never lay a hand on him, and that letting people so that isn't okay. He doesn't understand it in all honesty, but he does understand your point when you ask what would happen if the roles were reversed.

•His clinginess is quick to turn into horniness. Let's say he's out talking with Nanami while you sit next to him. His hands on your thigh, and your getting tired of him and Nanami speaking, so you pull his hand to touch lower. He's quick to start stuttering and getting all flushed in the face. He grips exactly where your hand puts him, tightly holding as you jump and hold his arm. Tease for tease, and you best believe when you get home, he'll have a he'll of a fun time with you.

•His relationship with Nanami has gotten in the way of your relationship before. You've had to tell him multiple times that he can't just blow everything off immediately when Nanami asks something of him. He's had to cancel multiple important date nights or other events simply because Nanami wanted to talk or have dinner with him. It's taken a couple fights for the both of you to come to an agreement on how much is too much, but the last thing he wants is for you to think he doesn't want to be with you, or that he cares for one over the other.

-------------------------------ඞ-----------------------------------------

okay so this is kinda my first headcanon, super duper scary but I hope I delivered what you liked ♡♡

- mwah, your writer ♥︎

[gvnvks]

zb1 giving you partner privileges … !

> pairings: non-idol!zb1 x fem!reader

> warnings: lowercase intended, not proofread

> song recommendation: mori by dawid podsiadlo (its in polish but u gotta listen to it fr)

> note: i started my exams today … two more to go !!

김 jiwoong.

THE PRIVILEGE IS REAL

im being so fr 😭

when literally anyone tries to take something from him, JUST BORROW FOR A SEC he immediately turns D:

except when its you

you could take (over) this mans whole life (you already did) and he wouldn’t even complain

hes THAT whipped

girl TRUST ☠️

“hey jiwoong, i wondered if i could borrow your charger for a sec, mine just stopped wor-“ rickys sentence got cut short by jiwoongs whine

HOMEBOY SNATCHED THAT CHARGER AWAY FROM HIM

“jiwoong, my sweet !! i thought i could use your laptop. i need to get some work done real quick”

jiwoong immediately gives u the laptop no hesitations

trust me if he could give you his all time life savings along with that laptop HE WOULD

(pls do i kinda need money 💯)

“can i use ur cologne jiwoong pls” “no”

BUT IF ITS YOU

“hey jiwoong!! i thought your cologne smelt really nice and wondered if i could spray a little on myself too!!”

shows u all colognes he has ever bought

EVEN THE EMPTY BOTTLES

“u can choose. the one i used today is this one :D”

later gives u like 2-3 of his STILL FULL colognes that you liked the smell of cause “i dont need that many anyways”

장 hao.

he’s serious about his sleeping

trust me.

he gets so mad when someone disturbs him in his slumber

and he’s also very difficult to wake up 😭

seriously

“hao u really should wake up…”

*snores*

“hao pls we have a schedule in 30 minutes”

*snores*

jiwoong you should just give up atp 🧍🏻‍♀️

“literally wake up what the fuck”

and let me tell y’all

when someone other than you miraculously manages to wake his ass up

he’ll just straight up yell at them

“SHUT UP” yes throw that pillow hao ‼️

but you

your voice has something that immediately wakes him up in his best mood

rainbows around his head and allat yk yk

every time when it’s you waking him up TRUST ME you’ll never see a morning pout on his face

you could literally beat his ass awake and he’d have nothing against it ☠️

he gets all soft and allat … yeah cute babe hao

his members r fucking confused cause what he so whipped for

can u see the what the fuck expression on jiwoongs face ??

HE JUST SIGHS

HE OFFICIALLY GAVE UP YALL

he’s in love like that

giving you privileges LIKE THAT …

also his morning i love yous … hi I need a bf quick

he’s a 10/10 boyfriend btw 💋

성 hanbin.

the amount of privilege you get as hanbins partner …

he literally pays for your every single thing

u saw that new pretty skirt while window shopping ??

“honey, want me to buy it for you?”

no matter your answer he in fact always does buy it

ur on a date in that cute new caffe ??

“hey, choose what you want. ill pay.”

SO HOT 💔

“hanbin !! this necklace is pretty, isn’t it ??”

“yeah, pretty neat” and the necklace is at your door 2 days later

basically your human wallet

of course its not like u demand from him to pay for you, he just does

and hanbin really enjoys buying you things and making you happy btw ‼️

cute

but when it’s his members 😭

oh hell naw he ain’t having it

“hanbin could you pls pay for me I forgot my wallet”

AND HE JUST GLARES

sighs

and sometimes SOMETIMES he does pay for his members but it’s like

once in a blue moon literally

“hanbin do you maybe want to buy me that new, cool game (whatever games he fucking plays) ??” GYUVIN BABE YOU KNOW THE ANSWER

“no” LMAOO

“oh no !! i ran out of money on apple pay …” you just wanted to buy keys on subway surfers 😕

hanbin IMMEDIATELY charges your apple pay with … a lot of money. you can buy a lot of keys now. are you happy.

GYUVIN SEES IT ALL AND IS OFFENDED ☠️

석 matthew.

i get a feeling that as long as matthew enjoys physical affection, he’s not that big on hair touching ?? like yk

he probably won’t let his members touch his hair very often

i dont know i just feel like he wouldn’t like it

“matthew, u got something on your hair” gunwook tries to pick whatever shit landed on his head

MATTHEW GRASPS HIS HAND HALFWAY 😭

GUNWOOK LITERALLY HISSES IN PAIN MATTHEW CHILL PLS PLs pLS

“i can do it myself” okay mr serious ?? gunwook literally didn’t ask

its not that serious, it was never that serious 💯

BUT WHEN YOURE IN THE PICTURE

you really like touching his hair

it’s so soft and allat

and sometimes you just randomly place ur hand on his head

he tenses up FOR A LITTLE SECOND and then softens up cause he realizes it’s you

SO CUTE 💔

lets you touch it for however long you want

matthew just doesn’t mind

ALSO

when you kiss his hair while ur hand is on his head he gets all shy and covered in blush 😭

kisses u back …

can u imagine what he’d do if instead of you it was one of the boys

HED THROW HANDS I CAN FUXKING TELL

honestly i dont see matthew as an aggressive (?) type of guy but when it comes to his hair ☠️

김 taerae.

we all know taeraes fashion sense is a bit … yeah.

basically it’s kinda bad

but that boy doesn’t let ANYONE literally anyone style him

“taerae i dont think these red pants fit well with that shirt …” hao just tried to give him some advice

and taerae just ignores his words 😭

“no taerae, don’t but these shoes, they won’t go with anything”

“stfu” BYE

but you ………

of course you love your precious bf but

sometimes you just can’t stand how off his outfits look 💔

”hm taerae��� i dont think this shirt fits these cargos! maybe you could wear this white one?”

changes in the blink of an eye ‼️

“do i look better, sweetheart ??”

YES YES YOU DO

he’s so cute pls

he’s ready to change his whole outfit if you ask him to

“taerae i don’t think this outfit suits a date night…”

it’s not like you demand him to change, you just simply share your opinion

WHICH HE FUCKING RESPECTS

maybe even a little too much 😭

so whipped

guess who has head over heels for you

definitely not taerae

“taerae, my sweet !! these pants have too many bright colors, don’t you think they won’t suit anything you have ??”

“oh! maybe you’re right. thank you, sweetheart”

NAH BYW

리키 ricky.

he’s so in love that the amount of privileges he gives you is fucking enormous, im fr

but we’ll focus on one

ricky never lets ANYONE go through his phone 🙏🏼

he doesn’t hide anything or sth

he just doesn’t like when people go through his things, especially without his permission

“what the fuck are you doing with my phone, yujin” in a matter of 0.5 seconds rickys phone is not in yujins hands anymore

poor boy just wanted to check the weather 💔

“hey ricky, can i check something in your phone ?? mine just died”

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, HANBIN

“no” as simple as that 😭

“oh ricky … i also wanted to check my gmail real quick but its o-“

he doesn’t let you finish and just hands you his phone

HANBIN IS OFFENDED (who wouldn’t 😭 this looks like some kind of prejudice)

oh my god how things change when it comes to you …

basically you have more access to his phone than ricky himself

sometimes it even comes to you literally using his phone all day. literally whole 24 hours 💯

AND HE DOESNT COMPLAIN AT ALL ??

like literally no complaints whatsoever. zero. none. 0. FUXKING NULL.

his members r like what the fuck because like

WHATS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU AND THEM

yall sometimes also like to switch phones for a day

the amount of pictures you take on his phone 😭

so whipped that he deletes NONE of them ‼️🙏🏼

김 gyuvin.

yes i do know i use this theme a lot while writing for gyuvin but i just cant help leave me alone pls

okay we all know gyuvin likes gaming

but he’s real serious about that …

if you’re not (y/n) don’t even think of disturbing him while he’s gaming 😭

HED LASH OUT TRUST

“gyuvin do you want som-“ taerae can’t even finish because gyuvin starts fucking throwing hands at him

“im kinda busy yk.” yes. yes we know.

HE DOESNT EVEN LET ANYONE TOUCH HIM ?? LIKE AT ALL ☠️

oh such a discord mod he is (im joking btw..)

but if it’s you …

oh girl i envy you this kind of boyfie 😕‼️

when you’re near him while he’s gaming he’d literally play with his headset only half on

yk in case you need something from him

so cute and so hot at the same time 🧍🏻‍♀️

he’d abandon his game for you

AND IM SERIOUS WHEN I SAY ABANDON

GIRL TRUST 💯

and ..

he lets you sit on his lap too ??

oh lawd have mercy 🙏🏼

when u sit on his lap he would literally play with one hand just to rub soothing circles on your back …

pls i need a therapist 💋

박 gunwook.

gunwook really doesn’t like when someone disturbs him while he’s focused on something

i mean its kinda obvious ??

probably no one does lmao 😭

he’s ready to throw hands even if it’s something way more important than the thing he’s focused on

IM SERIOUS ONG ‼️

“gunwook, can you stop what you’re doing for a while?” jiwoong asks with a pretty serious tone

“i can’t” WITHOUT EVEN LOOKING UP FROM HIS BOOK ?

not good … 💔

jiwoong im so sorry you’re probably so done by now

but if it’s you … !!!!!

“gunwook…” you whine, feeling kinda bored and alone today

AND HE IMMEDIATELY SHIFTS HIS WHOLE ASS ATTENTION TO YOU

god, teenager in love ‼️

he doesn’t really want to abandon what he’s doing rn as gyuvin does so he just

divides the attention 💯

…

sits you on his lap

OR SOMETIMES EVEN ON HIS DESK 😭

holds you by ur waist and just simply

plants kisses all over your cheeks

do I need to say his members r kinda disappointed ?? ☠️

hi i need a cute boyfie rn 💔

한 yujin.

okay so

there’s a lot of things yujin would let you do without you noticing it’s a “privilege”

because he wouldn’t complain if others did those things too ??

i mean like … its yujin so

but when YOU do these …

he encourages u so much 😭

ong…

im so serious … ‼️

“yujin can i try your food ?? it looks so good” ricky asked waving his chopsticks at yujins face

“oh… yeah go for it, i guess” WITH THE BLANKEST STARE EVER LMAOO

PLS TRY TO SEE IT WITH UR IMAGINSTION

“yujin! can i see your necklaces? it’s so cute!”

YUJIN IS SO SO XONFUSED

“oh… well… yeah”

now imagine you doing it 😭

“can i try some of your food, yujin ??”

HIS EYES IMMEDIATELY LIGHT UP ‼️

“yes! this here is rice with chicken and sour sauce and these ones there are some fried vegetables! eat as much as you want, cutie!”

okay yujin… 😭 not THAT serious babe

“yujin, my sweet! can i see your necklace?”

SO SO IN LOVE

“of course! i can help you put it on if you want to! you’d look so good in it!”

bae is so cute

gvnvks © 2023

[doyelikehaggis]

25 Days of Sleighpairs: Blam | Blaine Anderson x Sam Evans (Glee) + “hot chocolate”

The Lima Bean wasn't exactly the ideal place to try and keep two kids distracted, especially when all they wanted to do was go and play in the snow that Sam had hoped would stop once they got into May. They whined, but he did his best; he gave them his phone to fight over and play games on, regretfully thinking about how he planned to sell it if his dad came home with that look on his face again for the millionth time in the last few weeks.

His parents hadn't wanted him to because they were worried about not being able to get a hold of him in an emergency, but he knew he'd probably get a few bucks for it, at least. Hopefully enough to convince the motel owners to switch their heating back on.

He was praying it would be.

"Sir." He looked up as a waitress approached their table in the far corner with a sheepish expression. She stopped close enough to be able to speak in a hushed tone. "I'm so sorry, but my manager's told me I need to ask you to leave. You haven't bought anything, and there's a policy..."

His heart dropped straight through his stomach. He had hoped that no one would notice them if they stayed in the corner and kept the noise down.

"Seriously?" he asked, and she nodded, a sympathetic look pinching her features. She was obviously just hoping he'd go without a fuss, but he felt the icy chill of winter hanging around long than it was supposed to every time the door opened. "Okay. Okay, uh, is there any way that we could just stay for another half hour?"

At least his parents should be back by then, hopefully having managed to find some money or sweet-talk the motel owners into turning their hot water back on. But the waitress shook her head.

"I'm really sorry," she said again. "It's policy. You've already been here over two hours, so, unless you buy something, I need to ask you to leave."

He glanced at Stacey and Stevie and fumbled in his pocket for his wallet, his fingers still stiff from the cold. His heart was pounding against his chest as he opened the wallet and found exactly what he knew he would. A few cents and quarters. Barely enough to make up a dollar, at most.

Flushing hot with embarassment, he quickly put it away again, dragging a hand over his face. He had to bite his cheek to stop his eyes from blurring as he cleared his throat.

"Okay. Uh, Stacey, Stevie," he said, getting their attention, "we're leaving now. Put your hats and coats back on, and I'll help you with your gloves and scarves."

"Where are we going?" Stacey asked.

"I don't know," he said honestly. They couldn't go back to the motel without heating, but walking around outside in the snow wasn't any better. "Maybe..."

"Sam?" The waitress stepped aside, allowing Blaine to move closer to the table, wearing a friendly smile as he furrowed his brows. "It's Sam, right? We've never been properly introduced, but I'm Blaine. Kurt's friend from Dalton?"

"Yeah, I know," he said as his embarassment grew. Just what he needed: an audience.

"Do you have time to talk? I'd love to finally get a chance, especially after all the good things Kurt had to say about you. That performance you did with Quinn at Sectionals was just beautiful." Hand on his heart, he casually added: "Please, stay. Ten minutes of your time is all it will cost, I promise."

Sam didn't know what to say. His eyes darted to the waitress, and she gave him a small smile and a nod, as if to tell him another ten minutes wasn't going to get the police called on him. When she left, he slumped in his chair out of relief, but he glanced at Blaine uncertainly.

Truthfully, the last thing he wanted to do was talk to anyone, but he had just saved them from being thrown out into the street. He was grateful, but he didn't even know the guy; they'd only seen each other in passing, which was what made it all the worse when he realized what was going on.

"I'm just going to get a coffee, do you want anything?" he asked with big, innocent doe eyes as he pointed over his shoulder. "My treat, as a thank you for letting me steal some of your time."

Stevie chose that moment to interject. "I'm hungry. Can we get food?"

Rubbing his temple, Sam sighed, shifting uncomfortably in the chair as he shook his head and quietly said, "No, buddy, we can't. You can have something when we get home."

"But we don't have any food," Stevie protested, too loudly.

He cringed, wanting the ground to swallow him whole. He was about to scold him and deny what he had said, but it only got worse when he made eye contact with Blaine. He knew that expression on his face too well. He pitied him.

That was enough to make him want to walk out there and then. But he didn't. He looked at Stacey and Stevie and thought about the one slice of dry toast they'd had to share between them that morning. His own stomach churned uncomfortably. It wasn't fair on them.

Catching the look of defeat that must have been on his face, Blaine turned to the twins and said, "If it's alright with Sam, why don't we go and have a look at what they have? I think I saw them bringing out some fresh cookies..."

Sam watched him take them up to the counter until his vision started to blur. He bit his cheek and scrubbed at his wet eyes, trying to will himself not to have a breakdown in public. He had managed to avoid it so far.

When they returned to the table, they both had a cookie in hand and were already devouring them. It might have been all sugar, but at least it was something. Sam managed to compose himself, though the humiliation of it came crashing back down on him when Blaine placed a steaming cup in front of him.

"I didn't know what you liked, so I played it safe and got hot chocolate," he said as he pulled a chair over from the table next to them and sat beside him. He flashed him that smile again. "You seem like a hot chocolate kind of guy. Was I right?"

"You didn't have to... you didn't have to do that."

He glanced at him as Blaine brushed it off.

"We're not a charity case," he said more firmly, and he lowered his voice as Blaine's smile finally dropped. "I know that you know about... we don't need your pity."

"Sam, I don't pity you," Blaine said softly, and he cut him off when he tried to protest. "Look, maybe I overstepped. I'm sorry. But I wasn't lying, you know. I have actually been hoping we'd get a chance to meet properly.”

Sam leaned back, his eyes darting back over to Stacey and Stevie. They were covered in sugar and crumbs, but they looked happy. If their parents didn't come back with good news, it might be the last thing they had to eat until tomorrow.

"Thanks." He gingerly pulled the hot chocolate toward him and gave him a small smile. "You were right, by the way. I love hot chocolate."

Blaine chuckled, his mouth curving back up into that beaming smile as he ducked his head. He then said, “I can go, if that's what you want."

"No, it's cool," Sam said, "you can stay."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Blaine caught his eyes for a moment as he took a drink of his coffee. Heat crept up into Sam's face, but it wasn't embarassmet this time. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, to be honest. At the very least, he wasn't cold for the first time in a while, so it was a welcome feeling.

They stayed and talked for a little while, long enough for Sam's parents to text and tell him they were back at the motel and had semi-good news.

As they were getting ready to leave, Sam said, "Thanks again. I appreciate it."

"It was my pleasure," Blaine said sincerely and got to his feet. "Maybe we could hang out again soon? I know we have Nationals coming up, but maybe after?"

Sam hesitated, helping Stevie into his coat. "Uh, I don't know. I mean, I want to, obviously," he hastily added, averting his eyes under the guise of concentrating on helping Stacey put her scarf on. "It's just that I don't really know what I'm going to be doing after Nationals. Things are... rocky right now."

"Well, how about I give you my number?" Blaine suggested. "At least that way, we can keep in touch."

Sam swallowed down his protest. He didn't have the heart to turn him down again, even if he knew he probably wasn't going to have a phone for much longer.

"Yeah, sure."

Blaine wrote it down for him on a napkin and Sam took it with a forced smile. Without thinking, he jokingly said, "I've never gotten hot chocolate and a guy's phone number for my birthday before."

"Wait, it's your birthday? How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

He could tell from the look on his face that he was wondering why anyone would spend their sixteenth birthday in a coffee shop instead of throwing a massive party with all their friends.

"It's not a big deal," he said with a shrug.

"Of course it is," Blaine argued. "Sam, it's your sixteenth. Does anyone even know it's your birthday?"

He shook his head. "Just Quinn."

"Well, do you have any plans? With your family?"

"Not really. Like I said, it's not a big deal."

Blaine looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn't, and Sam was grateful for that. His parents had felt awful that morning for not being able to get him anything. He had assured them it was fine, he understood, they needed all the money they had just to keep a roof over their heads.

They walked out together, then they parted ways with Sam promising to text Blaine later so he had his number. When they got back to the motel, they were greeted with warmth. His parents had managed to scrape some money together to get the hot water turned back on.

He nearly cried when they pulled out a sponge cake for him. His mom apologized that it wasn't more, and she did start crying. He pulled her into a hug, his eyes darting over the few belongings they had managed to squeeze into the room. He landed on his guitar. It had to be worth something. Something was better than nothing.

While his parents were putting Stacey and Stevie to bed, he slipped outside, huddling into his coat. He pulled the napkin out of his pocket and took out his phone.

All he sent was a simple: hey its sam :)

The response was almost instant. He found himself smiling as he typed back. It was easy to forget all of his problems for just a little while as they texted back and forth, even the fact that it was freezing and his hands were stiff.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

Hi Hi this is my first time participating in one of these so please tell me if I did it wrong. But for the Prompt game number 2 could you do minsung and reader 24 and 48?? Or honestly anyone lol

Also I love your writing and I hope you’re doing well 🥰

SKZ Prompt Game

Prompts: "You're trembling."

"You make me want things I can't have."

Genre: Light Angst, Fluff, Light Smut

Members: Han Jisung, Lee Minho

Relationship: Established Minho x Fem!Reader x Roommate Jisung

Warning: Mentions of Nightmares, Cheating (but not really, you'll see)

"Lee Minho, are you asking me to babysit your roommate?"

Minho makes a little sort of disgruntled sound in the back of his throat, huffing a humorless laugh into the other end of the phone.

"He doesn't like to be alone."

You roll your eyes, toeing off your shoes and pinching the phone between your shoulder and ear as you head into the kitchen, depositing your work bag onto the counter.

"Jisung really can't handle staying by himself for two nights while you're gone? I do it all the time, you know. Every time you guys plan one of your little weekend guy trips." You huff out, though you're not quite as put out as your words would entail.

"Please, baby?" Minho pleads teasingly, his voice dropping in tone, into a whisper, in a way that he knows you can't resist. "For me?"

You sigh, long and hard, and you can almost feel your boyfriend smiling through the phone.

He knows he's got you.

And honestly, spending the weekend with Jisung won't be too much of a chore. You like him. And you both like to play video games, and eat pizza, and talk shit on Minho.

How bad could it really be?

"Fine." You grumble out, hoping Minho can sense your glare on the other end of the phone, just like you can sense his absolute glee. "But he's buying the pizza."

********************************************************************************

"Holy fuck, this is gonna be so fun!" Jisung announces, taking your small overnight bag from you almost immediately and chucking it onto the couch Minho had made you help him pick out months before.

You open your mouth to scold him, to say that hey, maybe some of your shit is kind of fragile? but before you can even get so much as one word out, Jisung has swooped you into a bear hug, squeezing all the air, and protests, right from your lungs.

"Thanks for agreeing to stay." He murmurs against the crown of your head, and you can't help it, you nod back without really thinking.

"Yeah, of course."

Jisung releases you with a huge, heart shaped grin, and you try not to notice how the cologne he wears-something a little bit spicy and lined with floral-contrasts so sharply, and altogether pleasantly, with the scent Minho always dons-dark and woodsy.

Minho appears, his work bag slung over his shoulder, his brow raised.

"Can you please refrain from greeting my girlfriend before me?" He queries dryly, glancing over to Jisung, before he leans over to press a kiss to your lips. "Hi, baby."

"No can do, hyung." Jisung grins, flopping down onto the couch next to your discarded bag, his long fingers pushing some of his dark hair out of his eyes. "Early bird gets the worm."

You laugh. "That doesn't even make sense."

Jisung's eyes glitter with amusement and he gives a little shrug.

"Sure it does. I'm the bird, you're the worm, and Minho-hyung is the cat who missed out."

"Cats don't eat worms." Minho mutters back, though there's amusement in his tone, as he leans in to give you another quick kiss.

He pats the pocket of his jacket, making sure he has his wallet and passport, and you straighten his button down shirt beneath as you give him a slight smile.

"Ready?"

He nods. "Yeah, I better get going." He glances to Jisung sternly. "Behave while I'm gone."

Jisung winks. "I always do."

Minho sighs with resignation and turns back to you, tilting his head toward the door and his waiting suitcase. "Walk me out?"

You nod, and he takes your hand, using his free one to grab the suitcase and open the door for the two of you.

"Bye, hyungie!" Jisung calls in a teasing sing song sort of voice as the door closes behind you.

Minho slows his step to match your own, glancing at his watch, and then squinting into the sun let in through the slats of the apartment walkway.

"Are you going to be late?" You ask, tightening your fingers around his own.

Minho shakes his head a little distractedly. "No, I'll be fine." He glances sidelong at you, and his expression grows serious. "Baby, about Jisung-"

You give a little laugh at the concern in his tone. "What? Think he'll eat me or something while you're gone?'' You arch a brow at him with a little smirk. "C'mon, baby, don't worry so much. Jisung and I are friends too, you know."

Minho sighs and rakes a hand through his hair, glancing past you. "I know. That's not what I'm worried about."

He pulls you to a stop, and the smile drops from your face at his worried expression.

"Min?" You ask, suddenly nervous for some reason.

Minho glances down at you, and reaches up to swipe a stray strand of hair from your forehead with a little smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"He has nightmares."

You stare at him, uncomprehending, and he squeezes your hands in his own, standing there in the middle of the hallway.

"Jisung. He doesn't like to talk about it, but he's been through some pretty messed up shit, and it messes with his head sometimes." Minho sighs, long and resigned, and a muscle ticks slightly in his jaw. You resist the urge to reach up and smooth it away.

"And when I say nightmares, I'm talking full fledged night terrors. Between the two of us, we've figured out some ways to deal with them, help them end more quickly, but he can't stand to be alone after they're over. Which is why I asked-"

"Me to stay with him while you're gone." You breathe out, finally putting the pieces together.

Minho nods. "Yeah. And I'm sorry to put you in this position, but he's my oldest friend, and I lo-" He stops for a minute, considering his words, and then continues. "-care about him."

You squeeze his hand. "I get it. I do. I'd do anything for you, so I understand how you feel the same way about Jisung."

Minho's expression lightens a little bit. "You do?"

"Of course." You smile up at him softly and lean up to press a lingering kiss to his lips. "And I promise, I will take good care of him, okay? Because no matter what you think, I care about Jisung too."

Minho smiles gently, and gives you another kiss. "I know you do, baby. Thank you."

*******************************************************************************

"Fuck, I'm tired." You stretch, pushing the blanket off of your lap and standing, grabbing the pizza box to throw it away.

Jisung looks up from where he's sitting on the opposite end of the couch, controller still held in his hand, eyes wide.

"Really? You sure you don't want to go another round?" Something mischievous glints in his eyes and he smirks at you. "Or are you scared I'll kick your ass again?"

"You couldn't kick my ass if you tried., Han Jisung." You retort back, sticking your tongue out at him. "But it's also one AM, and I haven't stayed up this late since I was in college."

Jisung grins back, bounding up to help you throw away the take out containers and soda cans.

"Well then, time for you to live a little."

"Jisung-" You start to sigh, throwing away the empty pizza box and turning to face him.

Your words die on your tongue at how close he is, you hadn't realized he'd come up right behind you while you were talking.

Your nose is almost brushing the tip of his.

Something weird swarms in the pit of your stomach as you stare into his large, dark eyes.

"Yes?" He questions back with the hint of amused innocent, his eyebrow ticking upward as he stares at you, staring at him.

You open your mouth to say something, anything-you should back up a few feet, or a hundred, I should go to bed right this goddamn instant-but nothing comes out.

Jisung cocks his head, and then he takes a step back, something unreadable going across his face as he laughs a little and finally drops your gaze.

"Yeah, you're probably right." He acquiesces, still not looking at you, the air between you awkward now. "It's late. We should hit the hay."

The forced casualness in his voice has something heavy settling into the pit of your stomach.

"Yeah, yeah-" You stumble over the words, desperate to get out of the kitchen and away from him suddenly. You skirt along the wall, trying to increase the space between you as you give him a forced smile. "-see you in the morning, Jisung."

Jisung opens his mouth, as if he's about to say something more, but you hightail it out of the kitchen and down the hallway to your room, locking the door before you can give yourself the chance to find out what it was.

********************************************************************************

You don't know how long you've been asleep when you're woken by a thud against the wall Minho's room shares with Jisung's, and the sound of something, or multiple somethings, crashing to the floor.

You give your heart a moment to stop pounding in your chest, listening for any more sounds, and when you don't hear anything, you creep from Minho's bed and down the hall.

Standing outside Jisung's still closed door, you hesitate only briefly, before you raise your fist and knock softly.

"Jisung?" You call out quietly, waiting for a response. When there is none, you try again. "Jisung?"

There is the sound of shuffling from inside, and then it falls silent again.

Gathering your courage, you push open the door silently, and stare into the darkened room, letting your eyes adjust for a moment.

There's Jisung's bed-empty-his bedside table-clear of all items, including his lamp and alarm clock, now in a pile on the floor-and then-

"Jisung." You whisper, and without thinking, you hurry across the small room, crouching down in front of him.

He's huddled in the corner farthest from the bed, his comforter pulled up like a hood around his head, curled in on himself for safety.

You can tell, even in the lack of light, that his knuckles are white where they hold the blanket too tightly against his body.

"Jisung." You repeat, because it's the only thing you can think to say in this moment. You cautiously reach forward to touch his hand. "Are you okay?"

He stares at you for a moment, as if confused that you're here, in his room, in front of him, and then he shakes his head, as if to clear his brain of unwanted thoughts, and gives you the fakest half smile you've ever seen.

"Y-yeah-" He stutters out, eyes large and dark and a little too shiny in the dark.

You close your fingers around his own, and his entire body shakes beneath your touch.

"You're trembling." You murmur worriedly, watching the way his muscles shudder beneath the safety of the blanket, as if his body is in fight or flight.

It probably is from what Minho had said.

"It's an after effect." Jisung mumbles back, dropping his gaze from your own now, as he stares at your hand still covering his own. "Of the nightmares."

You feel helpless, crouched before him, unsure of what to do, watching him shatter before your eyes.

You swallow, and reach up your fingers to shove aside some of his thick dark hair, damp with sweat, from his eyes, and he stares at you for a moment, expression doubtful.

"What can I do?" You ask in a whisper, scooting a little closer to him, pressing your thigh up against his, hoping the bodily contact will comfort him a little. "Minho didn't tell me how he usually helps, but-"

Jisung's eyes widen a little, his lips pulling down into a grim line. "Minho told you he helps me with the nightmares?"

You give a little shrug of your shoulder, confused. "Well, yeah, he wanted to make sure I knew what to do while he was gone. And he cares about you."

Jisung stares a little longer, and then he looks away, clearing his throat.

Slowly, one by one, his fingers uncurl from around the blanket.

"I think I'm okay now." He admits softly, a slight wobble in his voice that belies his lie. "But, if you could just sit with me for a little bit? So I'm not alone?"

He glances back to you hopefully and you instantly nod, sliding so your back is against the wall beside his, body pressed close.

"Of course I can, Jisung. Always."

********************************************************************************

The next night, the nightmares are worse.

You're woken up by the sound of terror, and without having to think, your feet fly down the hallway and into Jisung's room, finding him writhing on the bed, tangled in his blankets.

"Jisung, Jisung!" You shake him a little, trying to pull him back from the brink of his own mind.

He stops writhing, staring at you blankly-or through you more accurately-and the dead expression on his face and in his dark, usually expressive eyes scares you.

Without thinking, you climb into the bed and lie on top of him, pressing your body heavily down onto his own.

You'd read somewhere that having another person's body weight on top of you helps with panic attacks, so why not nightmares?

You're out of your depth, you don't know what the hell you're doing, but you have to do something, have to bring Jisung back.

"It's okay." You whisper, reaching up to cautiously start stroking his hair. "It's okay. I'm here. You're here."

Jisung's muscles are tense beneath your own, his whole body still shuddering from the after effects of the horrible nightmare, but slowly, beneath the weight of your own, the violent shudders die down to silent trembling.

"It's okay." You just keep murmuring over and over and over, like a mantra, filling the space between the two of you. "It's okay."

Jisung takes in a deep breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath your own, and carefully, you raise your head, meeting his gaze, your fingers stilling their movements on his hair.

"I'm sorry." He murmurs out, voice hoarse and shaky, a single tear creeping from the corner of his eye and down his cheek.

"Don't be sorry." You reply back softly, resuming your combing of his hair and he leans into the touch, like a cat seeking the security of affection. "It's not your fault."

"Yeah, but Minho, and you-" Jisung starts, taking in a shuddering breath, his body convulsing beneath your own.

"Care about you a whole fucking lot." You finish for him resolutely, daring to come up on your elbows now that the majority of his shuddering has worn off, meeting his gaze firmly. "You have nothing to apologize for. We wouldn't be here if we didn't want to be."

Jisung holds your gaze for another moment and then nods, looking away. "Okay."

"Okay." You repeat, before you suddenly realize that your body is still flush with Jisung's. You shove yourself up on your hands, face going hot. "If you're okay then-"

Panic comes across Jisung's face and you freeze, his body once again going instantly tense beneath your own as he grabs your upper arms in a vice like grip.

"Please don't leave."

You stare down at him, pleading silently with you with large, dark, scared eyes, and you finally nod, settling back down on top of him again, elbows propping you up so you can see his face.

"Okay, I won't."

You study him for a moment in the dark, the slope of his nose, the full swell of his bottom lip, the doe eyes hidden beneath long, dark hair.

Without really considering, you reach out and trace his lips softly with the pad of your thumb.

Jisung freezes beneath the touch, and you feel your cheeks heat once more as you move to pull away.

"I'm sorry-"

Jisung's fingers loop around your wrist, keeping you in place, your fingers hovering just over his mouth. His lips part, and you can feel the warmth of his breath wash over your fingertips.

The sensation sends a tingle down your spine.

"You make me want things I can't have."

His voice is so soft that you think you've misheard him, and confusion washes across your face, the words jostling together in your brain in a way that doesn't make sense.

Maybe he's talking about you and Minho? About a relationship?

"What? Me and Minho?" You question back dumbly, still trying to piece together what he's just admitted to you.

"Yeah." Jisung says softly, gaze still never leaving your own, breath still washing over your fingers. "You. And Minho."

There's something behind the words, the way he repeats it after you, and suddenly, it clicks into place.

You laugh a little, you can't help it, and Jisung looks caught off guard.

"Jisung." You say his name like a sigh, like you're releasing a secret you've kept for ages. "All you have to do is ask him. Minho fucking loves you. I've known forever, but I've been waiting for him to bring it up."

Jisung's eyes grow wider. "Minho loves me?"

You nod. "Yeah." Something quiet and sad colors your tone as you stare at him, the boy you both secretly want, the boy Minho could have if he just said the word. It's not so simple for you. "I see it in the way he looks at you, the way he talks about you."

"And you're okay with that?" Jisung asks, slight doubt filtering into his tone.

You huff a laugh. "Yeah. I love Minho, and he loves me, but he also loves you, and I'm not opposed" You give him a slight smile. "I can share."

Jisung takes in your words for a moment, and then he releases his hold on your wrist, letting you sit up fully this time, scooting away from him on the bed.

He heaves himself up, untangling himself from the blanket. "What about you?"

His question catches you off guard, and you shrug slightly. "What about me?"

Jisung's face pinches slightly. "Well, I-"

You give a humorless little chuckle, glancing to him now. "You don't have to say it, Jisung. I don't have to be part of this equation. It's okay."

The words hurt your heart, but you remain stoic.

Jisung stares at you for a long, everlasting moment, and then he inches closer to you, taking your face in his hands in a bold move.

You suck in a surprised breath, but hold still as he studies you.

"I bet Minho likes kissing you."

You stare back at him, trying to puzzle out where this is going, but you're tired of thinking, so you just say back, "Yeah."

Jisung lets his thumb drop to trace your mouth, like you had done moments before to him, and his gaze falls to the part of your lips underneath his touch.

"And you like it when Minho kisses you."

You stare back at him, heat pooling in your stomach the longer the staring contest, the gentle touches, go on.

"Yes."

Jisung cocks his head, giving you a little knowing look, and then he leans forward, and it takes everything in you to freeze, as his lips brush across the column of your throat.

It's like electricity has shot through your entire body, igniting the warm pool in the pit of your stomach into something ravenous.

"Do you like it when he kisses you here?"

"Yes." You whisper back, and Jisung hums in acknowledgement, moving his lips lower against your skin, pulling your t-shirt to the side so he can press open mouth kisses to your shoulder.

"And here?"

"Mmhm." You murmur back,breathless.

Jisung glances up at you, a slight smirk pulling at his full mouth.

"And what does Minho like?"

"He likes-" You think for a moment, it's a hard feat with Jisung's lips on you. "-when I tangle my hands in his hair."

You let your hands slide into Jisung's thick, dark hair, tugging him closer to you, back up to your mouth, his lips hovering over your own.

"What else?" Jisung breathes out, his gaze flicking down to your tongue, darting out to wet your lips.

"He likes me in his lap." You murmur back, and before you can overthink it, you straddle Jisung on the bed, knees going down on either side of his hips, hands going to his shoulders.

Jisung leans back on his hands and he's staring up at you now with open hunger, pupils large and dark.

"And I bet you like it when he puts his hands here."

He lets his hands slip beneath your t-shirt, taking purchase on your hips, fingers digging into your skin.

You nod, it's becoming harder to think the longer this little game goes on.

"I do."

Jisung hums, smirking up at you once more, tilting his head as he watches you.

"Although-" You tease, reaching out to play with them of his own t-shirt. "-he's usually not wearing so many clothes when we do this."

Jisung grins, and with one smooth movement, easily pulls his shirt off and over his head, tossing it to the floor.

"Better?"

"Much."

"What else?" Jisung prods, and you're more than happy to accept his challenge.

"He likes when I kiss him-" You lean in, and after a breath's hesitation, press your mouth over Jisung's.

Fuck, he tastes amazing, and he's so pliable, so responsive, sliding his tongue in between your lips almost instantly, making you gasp into his open mouth.

You pull back, just a sliver, just enough to say, "-and when I use teeth."

You lean back into him, and suck his full bottom lip between your teeth, letting them graze the plush skin slowly as you release your hold.

Beneath you, Jisung shudders in response, and you can feel him hardening beneath you.

"I bet he likes when you're a tease." Jisung replies breathlessly when you pull back, pupils large and dark, lips red and slick. "So fucking hot."

"He does." You smirk, arching a brow. "And he also likes when I grind down on him."

You give him your weight then, lowering yourself fully into his lap, grinding your hips on him, and Jisung groans, throwing his head back, as his eyes roll back into his head.

"Fuck-" His hands on your hips pin you down, stopping your movements, and he pants for breath for a moment before opening his eyes, his expression hot.

"You like feeling him, like feeling what you're doing to him."

His words send molten heat straight between your thighs, and you whine a little at his hold, pinning you in place.

Jisung smirks, releasing you, before he reaches to slip off his sweats.

Your mouth waters as he's bared completely before you.

You've never stripped out of your own clothes so fast.

Moving back to straddle him, Jisung groans at the feel of how wet you are against his skin.

His fingers go back to bruising your hips, and his own buck up beneath you.

"God, I bet he loves feeling you, seeing you take him."

You nod, manuevering yourself, and stare down at him for a moment, the large dark doe eyes, the slight pant of his open lips.

Jisung is fucking pretty.

But you knew that already.

"He does." You confirm, voice breathy, as you feel him against you. "But he likes it most when I take him all at once."

Without warning, you sink down, and Jisung's eyes once again disappear into the back of his skull.

His fingers grip you painfully, and you whimper, but it's a sound of pleasure, as he groans and focuses back on you, leaning up to capture your lips in a bruising kiss as he starts to move.

"Fuck, Jisung-" You gasp out, stars bursting before your vision.

The second his name leaves your lips, you freeze.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Don't." Jisung growls, tugging you in for another rough kiss, his words and breath searing your skin. "Don't ever apologize for saying my name. I want to fucking hear it on your lips for the rest of my life."

He lifts his hips against your own, kissing you hard, and you gasp, and you know, there's no going back now, not ever.

"Jisung."

********************************************************************************

You're lying next to Jisung in the small space of his twin bed, staring at the ceiling, completely and utterly spent.

Your body is deliciously sore, and his hand in your own is a comforting weight.

You can't help the small smile that crosses your lips as you hear him shift beside you.

There's a flare of guilt deep in your gut, but you shove it down to deal with later.

"Hey." Jisung whispers, rolling over to flop his arm across your bare waist and brush his lips across your neck.

You meet his gaze. "Hey."

He smiles shyly at you, fingers playing with your own.

"I think Minho really likes you."

You stare at him, a small smile crossing your own lips. You lean forward to press a kiss to the corner of his heart shaped mouth.

"I think I really like him too."

********************************************************************************

You're drinking coffee at Jisung and Minho's small kitchen table when Minho gets home, tossing his work bag onto the couch and coming directly for you.

"Hey, baby." He leans down behind your chair, encircling you with his arms, and you smile, tilting your head back so he can reach your lips.

"Hey."

"I missed you." He nuzzles his nose into your cheek, and you give a little laugh.

"I'd forgotten how clingy you get after a work trip, Lee Minho." You tease, reaching up to brush hair back from his forehead as you give him another quick kiss. "I missed you too."

"Watch it." Minho growls teasingly, tickling you before he gives you another kiss and straightens up.

Jisung appears then, headed directly for the cabinet for his own mug to fill with coffee.

"Hey, where's my hello kiss?" He pouts, staring at Minho, as he fills up his coffee and comes to sit beside you at the table.

Minho arches a brow and stares him down. "Do you deserve one?"

Jisung gives him a sweetly innocent smile. "Always."

You swallow a too large gulp of your hot coffee, and suddenly wonder when you should break the news to the man now getting his own glass of the morning beverage.

Luckily, Minho beats you to the punch.

"So." He says casually, leaning against the counter and glancing between the two of you, sipping from his mug. "Did you two finally fuck then?"

You choke on the liquid in your mouth, and Jisung promptly spits his own mouthful of coffee across the table in a fine spray.

"What?" You both shriek at the same time, staring at Minho.

He appears completely nonplussed, holding both of your astounded gazes with nothing more than a shrug.

"The two of you. Did you finally get over your weird stubborn guilt complexes and fuck?"

You stare at him like he's grown a second head.

Jisung narrows his eyes from across the table, staring down your boyfriend.

"Wait-" His voice grows with disbelief. "-did you plan this?"

Minho gives another little shrug, but there's a smirk on his lips that he hides behind his coffee mug as he takes another sip.

"I did have a work trip. Just turned out the timing was impeccable."

"I cannot believe you." You gasp out, feeling a mixture of outrage and relief all at once.

Minho knows. He knows, and he's okay with it. Actually, more than okay, he'd been gunning for this to happen by the looks of it.

Minho grins, flashing sharp teeth.

"C'mon, baby. You and Jisung are too stupid and loyal to figure it out on your own. I needed to give you a little push."

"But-" You splutter out, trying to decide if you should take offense at his words and punch him or promptly cross the kitchen and kiss him. "-you're one to talk! You've been in love with Jisung for forever!"

"Yeah!" Jisung points at you, as if you've made a hell of a point, and then to Minho. "When were you gonna make a move, hyung?"

"Han Jisung." Minho says sternly, pinning the other man beneath his gaze. "I don't give up sleep for just anyone."

Minho puts his empty coffee cup in the sink and crosses to you, placing his hands on your shoulders, still staring at Jisung.

"Look, I needed the two of you to figure it out on your own, but I also needed to orchestrate it so you both knew I wasn't upset. Quite the contrary actually." He smirks and puts a hand under your chin, raising your gaze to his. "You have my blessing."

"I'm literally so pissed right now. You're an asshole, hyung." Jisung mutters, glaring at your boyfriend, tapping his finger on the table. "But that's also so fucking hot."

You swallow beneath Minho's hand, and he notices, smirk growing wider.

"I hate you."

His brow ticks upward. "No, you don't."

You sigh. "No, I don't."

"So." Minho releases you and tilts his head toward his discarded luggage on the couch. "Unpacking can wait. Care to show me what the two of you figured out while I was gone?"

[roamingtigress]

Desire

Hosea and Dutch, who have been inseparable for over thirty years, are now old men. Though their love has remained the same, their bodies have changed over the years, changes that have left them feeling a bit self-conscious and vulnerable.

One Valentine's Day though changes their perspective, and they both learn to embrace the beauty of aging. (It's safe for work just a bit lengthy! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Even if you just want to call me a nerd.)

It's Valentine's Day, a day we forego going on trade runs and bounty hunts, to make it a day just for ourselves and, well, what one often does on Valentine's Day.

Our Valentine's Days are also never without the theme of trying to outdo each other. If Dutch gets me orchids and chocolates that are just the right size to hand-feed to me, I'll set up a bathtub littered with rose petals with classic music being played in the background. You can call us sappy if you'd like; we've been called worse.

"This will be the year I will outdo you, Hosea!"

I roll my eyes inwardly, scoffing. Truth be told, there is, of course, no real winner in this competition; we both benefit when we try to out-spoil each other. Eventually, we both end up being naked at some point in the day, sometimes throughout the whole day. If you can guess it was Dutch who started it all, you'd be right. He wanted to make our Valentine's Day more romantic than anyone else's and wanted to see how far we'd take it. It's one of the plans he has put together that hasn't turned into a disaster, for the most part. There was that one disastrous breakfast in bed which he burned, but he meant well.

I roll aside and sit up in bed, playfully tapping him on his nose. "Game on, Dutch, game on."

Dutch just giggles, the winter sun reflecting beautifully on his features. They also expose the scars he's gained over the years from misadventures, some of which he exaggerates; the one on his chin was from when he dared to shave himself in the dark. Mistake. I've seen his hair in better shape; the messiness of it adds to his decidedly playful demeanor this morning. He pokes my nose back.

"It'll be hard to beat last year."

Yes, last year. We stowed away on a classy passenger ship, that lovely Grand Korrigan. I had intentions to buy tickets but they were sold out, so we did what we did, with the added thrill of the idea of being caught being a stowaway. We managed to stay off the radar, up until . . .

"We emptied everyone's wallets in poker, and we ran out on the deck . . ."

As Dutch chuckles, there is as much laughter in his eyes as there is in his voice. "We had that mob of stuffed shirts chase us back inside, down the hall towards our room --"

"And I was so turned on by the way you handled the table, that you had to relieve me. I couldn't make it to the room and well, it was getting awkward trying to run with an erection." I let my finger drag along the side of his cheek as I lay back down beside him.

"Stroking me off in the hallway, while we kissed . . ."

Dutch's eyes take on a mischievous glint. "And we got caught."

"We did!"

The fellows we played with weren't so disgusted at us for doing what we were doing (I suspected a few were queer; one just gets a vibe from another) but rather that we parted with their money and they finally caught the miscreants who robbed them. There was that one comment about 'I knew you two were's queer before you two even sat at the table together.' I threw them an empty wallet that I had often carried around with me to throw off someone's game (fancy wording for scamming) and dragged Dutch down the hallway and into our room.

I lean over, kiss him softly on his lips, and slowly pull away just to make soft eye contact. Perhaps it wasn't a traditionally, conventionally romantic moment; there was the thrill of being caught and sure enough, it happened. For us, it was thrillingly romantic; our hearts pounded when we heard those footsteps rushing towards us and before we could pull away (not that we wanted to), they caught it.

"Oh, it was so much fun."

Dutch's hand softly cups the side of my face, as he looks into my eyes. "Unbelievably so."

Dutch later got a fancy bath prepared for us, complete with champagne and rose petals. Securing that arrangement was interesting. I stole a man's identity when we were playing poker, and the fellow who was smooth-talked into arranging the bath assumed the fancy lady who accompanied the stolen man's identity was going to join Dutch; ironically some raven-haired dutchess from Europe. It would come as no surprise if I told you we made love in that tub; not merely sex, but making love. When Dutch puts his weird little mind to it, he is something. We both deserved a little reward for that collaboration.

"Got any plans, Dutch?" I had to ask.

Dutch looks like he's in thought as if he hadn't planned for weeks. I know better and he knows that I know better. "I might have a few . . ." He muses. "But they're for me to know and for you to find out!"

"You little shit!"

My husband, finding amusement at my expense once more, I have a way of bringing it out in him. He pulls me up on top of him as if I were a blanket, in such a position that I would be facing him; I can't complain. His body is so warm that it felt like I was pulled up over a hot water bottle.

"I thought I'd surprise you, 'sea."

I couldn't help but notice that when he pulled me up on top of him, his pyjamas (surprisingly with mangos and books and cigars printed on them) had shifted in such a way that revealed a nipple; it stared up at me. What a tease.

"With a nipple reveal, Dutch? What a slut."

I lean in and kiss it, I just had to. He squeaks.

"T-they might make an appearance."

I smile a mischievous smile. "Well, I would hope so. It's Valentine's Day! So what if Hosea Fucks Friday was the other day. If we don't take our clothes off at some point of the day, then it's just another day."

I close my eyes as I feel a big hand slip underneath my pyjama shirt, finding its way to my back. He rubs in a smooth massage, his fingers gracefully working their magic. "Patience, Mr. Matthews. I have a plan!"

Of course he does.

If that plan involves him massaging me all day, I'll take it. I arch my back, encouraging him. Sure enough, he gets the hint and works in a firmer caress and I let out a long sigh; the combination of the warm body against mine, his touch, his heart and my heart beating against each other.

"You're off to a good start . . . " I murmur, my eyes closing.

Dutch of course, almost; in that childish sort of way he does over every little thing he does that goes without a hitch. "Had to start somewhere." There's a spark to his eyes. "You know how it goes with us, once one touches another . . ."

"Of course . . . " I murmur, framing his jaw in my hands. "Both of us are just so . . . Easy."

I study his face for a long time, taking in the contours of his cheekbones and how the light played on them. There are scars scattered across his cheek and chin; the one you might see most noticeably is from a shaving challenge if you will. He thought he could shave just as well in the dark as in the daytime, I dared him to do it, and well, he did, and removed a little piece of chin. He tells everyone it was from a grazed bullet. I then feel his face studying mine. He had a sort of dreamy look to his face, almost . . . Almost like when we first met. We 'looked into each other's eyes and saw something', and it would seem he's seeing something. He's eyeing me like a beautiful painting, a statue, a prize-winning stallion.

We've been together for over thirty years. Things have changed over those decades. We both have wrinkles and curves in places that didn't have them before. Certain things are sagging a bit. We both have a bit of a paunch, one of us more than the other and by 'other' I'm not referring to myself.

"My days of looking good are long over, Dutch."

"Nonsense!" Dutch scoffed, giving my nose a gentle tweak. "And as part of my plan, I'll show you!"

Now I've heard him say 'I have a plan many a time and for the most part, nothing of note comes of it (minus those plans that go awry and end up in absolute chaos) . . . But, I was curious, given what day it is.

Dutch carefully rolls me off of him and heads to our bookcase which is a glorified small library. I watch curiously as he meanders over to the bookcase. His once rolling strut now takes on a bit of a shuffle, the limp that he's had since his forties has gotten more obvious. The life that we led had caught up to us both. I shake my head as I note his pyjama pants have hiked down a bit, I see the crack of his ass; that ass isn't as supple as you can say these days but still something to grab. I have to reassure him that he looks as handsome as ever, as he doesn't think so. Words aren't always enough; I have to show him, touch him in those special spots he feels vulnerable about, and make him feel beautiful. Likewise, Dutch still thinks I'm as handsome as ever. I'm a weathered old man of seventy-five, but . .. He has his way of bringing me around. He's a man who can master words, and know how to say the right things even if if I'm not feeling the words he's describing. Some say that's mere manipulation, but speaking of someone who has such an intimately deep connection, I can tell you it's the intimacy of the soulmate.

I watch curiously as he picks up a long green-covered book, of medium thickness and then a stick of graphite from a box on the bookshelf and slides on his thick black-framed glasses; I raise an eyebrow. It then occurs to me . . .

Did this man creep into my head, and rob me of my plan? Now I taught him a few things but I don't think I've taught him *that* well. I want to tell him that I have the same idea where I'd be drawing, but . . . No. I'll surprise him.

"Oh, I'm sure there are prettier things that you can draw. Like what's outside the window, that Heartlands landscape—"

Dutch lets out a deep belly laugh as he sits down, clapping my knee as he perches on the edge of the bed, facing me. "Am I married to the landscape?"

I retort; he opened the door for it. "Sometimes I think life would be easier If I was married to the Heartland Overflow! With all the frogs and the muskrats . . . "

"Destined to live with pests then, huh?"

That idiot just laughs again knowing it was my turn to walk into it, hugging that book to him as I give him a halfhearted kick. He then studies me for a long moment, his eyes twinkling as he just looks over at me. I can't deny he's being adorable; I can't get seriously annoyed. Yes, he's still frustratingly charming and uses it at every opportunity to get his way. Very frustrating.

"How do you want me posed?" I ask, remembering the last time we've drawn each other . . . Oh, it's been years.

We were both young and took up (illegal) residence in a shoreside house on Iron Lake. It belonged to an artist who was at the time, away in Paris and as something to do to pass the time when it was raining, we took time drawing one another. We were fitter then, with fewer wrinkles in some places, fresher faced. The drawings are still framed over our bed. That house went from being owned by an artist to a fisherman and now it's abandoned when he packed up his fishing gear and took up residence that was owned by some fellow named Hamish. Maybe one day, we'll get our boys to fix it up for a little family retreat.

I watch Dutch's face take on a pondering expression, his eyes softly scanning my form, mentally taking note of every detail. I find myself doing the same with him; there's love in those eyes, a certain twinkle to go with it that tells me this is a fun little activity borne out of love. I could tell him that there are more attractive, younger models out there he could use. I'm sure some art school out Saint Denis could provide them, but he'd argue that there'd be no one else that he'd want to draw.

"Natural, with that faraway look I often catch you in. Y'know, the look I catch you when you're reading and tryin' to ignore me."

I laugh but sit up in bed, keeping one knee up and bracing myself with my left arm, while the other casually drapes down.

"A little overdressed there, Mr. Matthews?" Dutch warmly teases; that twinkle in his eyes, that playful but loving tone in his voice... I suppose he loves me. "I... I want to show how handsome you are still."

I sigh. There's no fighting with him over this; he'll think I'm gorgeous if I'm wearing a paper bag. With some feigned reluctance, I shed off my pyjamas, putting on a little show for him because I do like that stupid smile and making him a little thirsty somehow, before placing them on the bedside dresser.

As Dutch makes himself comfortable on the edge of the bed, I reposition and take on that look he so desires. He's got that mustache twisted up into a smile as he starts. He's posing rather artistically himself; he's got his ass sinking into the corner of the mattress, one ankle and foot tucked up behind his knee which belongs to a leg he lets lazily dangle off the mattress. His head is tilted in that way when he's about to cause a stir with me, complete with that damn spark in his eye. He's got that damn pyjama top unbuttoned to his navel and has a nipple staring out at me. I'm not sure if this 'wardrobe malfunction' (as you kids call it) is intentional or accidental, but knowing him so intimately I'm going with the latter. It drives me nuts when he dresses like that, I can't keep my eyes off him, I can't keep my hands off of him, and he knows it; what an old tart.

As Dutch makes himself comfortable on the edge of the bed, I reposition and adopt the look he desires. He's got that mustache twisted up into a smile as he starts posing rather artistically; his ass sinking into the corner of the mattress, one ankle and foot tucked up behind his knee, lazily dangling off the mattress. His head is tilted in that way when he's about to cause a stir with me, complete with that damn spark in his eye. He's got that damn pyjama top unbuttoned to his navel, and a nipple is staring out at me. I'm not sure if this 'wardrobe malfunction' (as you kids call it) is intentional or accidental, but knowing him so intimately, I'm going with the latter. It drives me nuts when he dresses like that; I can't keep my eyes off him, I can't keep my hands off of him, and he knows it; what an old tart.

I decide to poke him in his belly with a toe, making him squeak; he's still stupidly ticklish. "Dutch, you're distracting me."

Dutch's silly smile turns into a grin. He felt my eyes on him; I was egging him on. "Pretend I'm being an annoying shit when you're reading, and you're trying to engross yourself in your fictional fantasy."

I scoff, somehow managing to retain my expression and pose. I scoldingly point and shake my finger at him, and that grin just widens, with a chuckle. "When aren't you being an annoying shit? And when I do engross myself in my fictional fantasies, you decide it's time to get needy and crawl into my lap for your hair to be played with and your belly to be rubbed." Admittedly, I inadvertently encourage that because I can't resist; once he brings out the puppy eyes act, I can't resist.

"Point taken!" Dutch's voice is boisterous at my rebuttal; he rolls with my punches and brings out another zinger at me as he points the graphite stick at me.

"Now who's distracting who? With you thinkin' about touching me and all."

I roll my eyes and shake my head at that sass, which he accentuates with a squirm of his ass. "Dutch . . ." I could go on with this back-and-forth banter all day; I enjoy it more than I let on. A big part of me wants to keep poking the bear, to see what he comes up with next, and to surprise him with what I'm capable of. But . . . I am curious to see this masterpiece he's working on, and I'd like to see it before I head off to the afterlife.

Dutch starts at his work slowly, his hand moving at a slow, fluid pace for the most part, intermittently peppered with rapid flicks of his wrist.

"This isn't one of those caricature pieces, is it?" I ask curiously, maybe with some caution; we have such a piece above our dresser; some silly Frenchman did it for us when we made a trip to, ugh, Saint Denis when I visited family and Dutch insisted on tagging along. It's a cute style, a cute piece, but I'd rather some of my features not be exaggerated if he's drawing me in the nude.

"Real-life study, Old Girl!" Dutch beamed, creases forming in the corners of his eyes; he's frustratingly adorable when he's enthusiastic about something to the point where the crow's feet arrive to roost.

I feel like disappearing into the bedsheets as I sense a wave of vulnerability washing over me. It's not often I feel vulnerable. He means well; the love is evident in his eyes, though; I can't bring myself to say no to this thing.

"You . . . You don't have to draw every detail."

Dutch frowns, tipping his head in that way when he's puzzled by something, not dissimilar to a dog puzzled by some strange sound that it doesn't know what it is. Occasionally, he'll do that in an argument, as if not understanding why I'm upset with him.

"I find every detail of you to be beautiful, 'sea."

"Every bit?" I ask, tilting my head as well.

As a spouse with over twenty years of experience, it's natural to find at least one part of your partner's body to be, well, not beautiful. For Dutch, it's that damn ugly right toe of his, crooked and bigger than the other, and yet it's the one that he likes to poke me with.

Dutch gently insisted, his face taking on a sort of dreamy expression. "Every bit. And I love to kiss every bit of your body --"

I gently but firmly interrupt; if I don't, there goes his plan, and it'd be another on the pile of failed plans. How do I know this? Because that silly man has a hard time keeping his hands off of me (and I admit the feeling is mutual for as much of a pain in the ass he is and how much it just encourages him), or his lips off my body, and this drawing will never get done! Maybe if he doesn't interrupt me again, he can get what he wants. It is lovely having him kiss over my body, and they can be the softest, sweetest little kisses. He's a bit slower at them these days, as if memorizing every inch of my body.

"Dutch, you're distracting me."

Dutch snickers, outright snickers, and returns to work once I roll my eyes and regain my composure, repositioning myself.

"Cheekbones . . . " Dutch whispers, half to himself; it was one of those cases where he thinks his thoughts are still inside his head but he lets them spill out. "Still beautiful, defined cheekbones . . . "

I have a tiny smile threatening to grow. My cheekbones are one feature of me that I'm still rather fond of. My face has sunken with age, as Dutch's has; his cheekbones are more prominent than when I first met him. I often catch him running a thumb over mine as he looks into my eyes. Sometimes before a kiss, sometimes as he's telling me how much he loves me or something equally sappy. He likes to kiss them in the morning, trying to butter me up after he stirs me awake because, with certainty, I can say that he's the thing that stirs me awake, and I'm not a morning person.

"Eyes that look into my soul . . . "

Now he's getting a bit sappy. I've heard him describe my eyes as having a lot of soul and, at times, a certain weariness to them (I can't imagine why). I manage that faraway look, though my focus isn't entirely so far away, but at the man drawing me and beyond.

"I'm so attractive you can't keep your eyes on me." Dutch teases, snickering again when I scoff. He is indeed a lovely specimen to look at but at this moment, he's more silly than sexy, but I'll let an old manchild dream that he's still a Roman sculpture of a man.

"I'm looking behind you." I'm trying to focus on the painting of our dearly departed Labrador, Matilda -- who was buried between Silver Charm and The Count -- emphasis on trying, as he's 'caught' me.

My dear husband is onto me, scoffing away. "Sure, sure . . . "

Dutch studies me for a long time, just smiling, looking at me the way a schoolboy looks at his crush, and I let out an exasperated sigh when he itches at his chest. It looked a little planned, to tease me, to show a little skin, which isn't as taut as it used to be; I might have caught a bit of a jiggle on that tit. But he's still gorgeous to me, jiggly bits and all. "Hey, when you got an itch, you scratch it!" Dutch tsk tsks as he catches me glancing at him for half a second.

"Slut!" I retort.

The idiot just grins like the Cheshire Cat; he knows that I know that was an attempt to flirt. Love. He's in love. I've had fleeting moments where I think life without him would be easier but they're fleeting when I think how much life would be. . . Well, duller, without him. He does provide unexpected moments of amusement like this, he's a warm body to snuggle up to at night and a damn good kisser. In my prime, I could have found someone better in bed (he's a bottom through and through and a bratty sub at that), but, well, I suppose I'm in love, too. I take on that faraway look, just 'thinking.'

"You know, I've always loved your nose. Perfectly kissable!" Dutch will be narrating this whole thing, just wait; he doesn't have to give progress reports but he feels it's his duty.

"You think every part of my body is kissable."

I'm convinced that the smile on Dutch's face will freeze on his face permanently. "Oh, I do . . . " He plans on kissing every inch of my body when we're done with this thing, I just know it. And I plan on doing the same for him.

All banter aside, as I put on my 'faraway stare', I feel exposed, but at the same time . . . Desired. Now and then we put each other in such a position where we will feel vulnerable; some may say it's 'toxic' but it's one of our ways of showing the trust we have in each other, a sort of gentle surrender in our dynamics; normally I'm the head of the household here but once in a while I'll let him take the reins and see what he does with them before taking hold of them, where I'll remind him. I would never shed my clothes in the name of art for anyone other than this man. In his younger years, Dutch would have jumped at the chance to be drawn in the nude, but with the contours he's gained over the years and knowing how self-conscious he can be of them, it's likely he too would only do this for me.

I can't help but be drawn by the elegance of his hand movements, even the movements he's making for what I'm assuming is shading; those are more deliberate. "Right after your hands, my favourite part of you is your chest. It's a safe for your heart and there's no force on earth or beyond that can bust it open."

The damn fool thinks I'm invincible. I know it's a lie he tells himself that he believes and tells me and tells others, as I know losing me is one of his greatest fears. It's a lie he uses to comfort himself and I won't take it away from him. Deep down, with my decade age gap, I fear I may go first, and one of my fears is leaving him behind. Dutch is much more fragile than he lets on. He won't do well without me. Not one bit.

But enough of the depressing talk.

Going from the circular motions of his hand, I can tell he's drawing my nipples, a part of my body that I don't think much of. That is until my mustached companion here decides to play with them and then I'm convinced they're hooked up with electricity with all its nerves. We both alike used to be firmer on that region on the map, like everything else but, we'll live with what we have.

"Do you know why men have nipples for, 'sea?"

Ahah! I knew it.

I think for a moment, though. I could think of some smartass response, but then I decided to show I know as much as he does. "They're leftover from when us fellows are developing in the womb if my memory serves me." I vaguely remember those details; it's been a bit since I've looked up the medical books. The last time I read one was when Dutch got a boil on the inside of one of his ass cheeks a few years ago and I wanted to get it properly drained; pardon me, that was too much information. I'm sure nobody wanted to know about an old man's bottom.

Dutch decides to be the smartass.

"Well, that's the boring answer."

"I was going for the scientific explanation."

"You can call it what you want," Dutch insisted with a smirk. "Medical professionals say they serve no purpose as we develop, but I disagree. These medical 'professionals' as they call themselves, must have less of a sex life than us old wrinklies."

I scoff. No doubt some of those experts are 'old wrinklies themselves, not much younger than us, but . . . "You can call yourself an old wrinkly. I prefer to use the term 'senior citizen.'"

Dutch can't help himself. "With citizenship, comes governance!"

Yes, he's still a rebel. He has trouble now and then getting up on his horse, an Irish Cob gelding named Blagdon, but he still thinks he's a revolutionary. I'll let him dream on.

Dutch is putting details into the collarbone; I can just tell from the expression alone; a soft, reflective expression as his eyes fall on my chest. Though the connection was there right at the beginning -- we looked into each other's eyes and saw something -- Dutch was, possibly to your surprise, socially charming at the start of our dating -- he could charm the socks off of you -- but awkward when it came to the art of seduction; maybe he was shy. I was his first experience with another man and I thought at the time he was a bit intimidated; my age gap didn't help, I thought. I was gentle, I was patient, and we took that part slowly. He loved to linger on my chest; he still does. He peppers a series of kisses along my collarbone before working his way downwards. It feels wonderful, and I can even remember the first time he did it; I ran my hands through his hair, giving the softest of kisses, and the lightest of nibbles as if he was eating corn on the cob.

"Such an underrated part of the body . . . " I think out loud, amazed at myself for remembering those little memories. "And yet you give it so much love . . ."

There's a warm twinkle in Dutch's eyes. "First place I kissed south of your lips. Every part of the body needs a bit of attention; everything is connected."

He works on my arms and shoulders next; those admittedly are still decently toned, as are his. We often don't think about how often we use them in our day-to-day lives. Even at my age of seventy-five and him at sixty-five, we still dance with our arms around each other, we enwrap each other around with them at nighttime. We often get nightmares; I suppose with the lifestyle we led before retiring, it comes naturally, so those embraces at night can get tight. Often, we wake up with crescent marks on our skin from our nails, and our ribs feeling bruised, and we don't even realize that we've been clinging to each other so hard. We use them to embrace each other during our lovemaking; we don't leave dents in the wall much anymore, but us 'old wrinklies' as Dutch refers to us as, do have sex. It's a little slower now, but still so good, even better as we've become so at one with each other's bodies.

Pardon me.

Attached to arms, of course, are hands, which his focus floats on next. I've mentioned before in another story that they're Dutch's favourite part of me, tied with my heart. Well, as an update, Dutch still loves the way I touch him. I love how they glide over the contours of his body, how they'll move about like a spider when I scritch and tickle, which he acts like he hates but I know he loves it, and eventually surrenders to. I love the way our fingers interlace; despite the difference in size and shape of our fingers. I love how they fit in with each other.

"I should do a study on your hands, Old Girl," Dutch purred, taking his time; I know he won't skimp on their details; every line on my knuckles will be drawn. "I still remember the first time you touched me, just a quick touch on the top of my hand when you brought that pan of bacon and eggs over to me, but I felt 'something' even there. And did I ever do things where you could 'accidentally' touch me."

I laugh, having a memory of him 'accidentally' brushing his hand against mine as we walked through some town. I don't know where it was, but I damn well knew he was flirting with me and I had to take him back behind somewhere to give him my first kiss. I wish I could remember where it was; I'd be happy to recreate it with him.

After a moment, he puts the graphite stick down for a moment and swallows hard. There's something he was trying to forget; I know the look he gets when he does that.

"Dutch . . . ?" I asked softly, concerned; I want to hold him and will.

"I'm just scared . . . " A word he doesn't use often; now it was his turn to feel vulnerable. "Of losing our memories."

I want to reach out and hold him, and I will. Sometimes I find myself forgetting about mundane things, locking the door and such, and it scares me. Dutch will forget things and will put on a stoic act; except today. Today was the first day where I caught him afraid of losing his most precious memories. The fear of getting dementia for people of our age is very real; we've built a life together, raised a family, lived out some dreams and let others slip through our fingers. To help us preserve those memories, we've created journals, and photographs taken of us, and now . . . Drawing each other again, this time as old men.

"I'll help you with that, my love," I speak softly. "It's why I agreed to do this."

I get a smile out of him again, and I'm glad of it. I don't like letting him stray into dark thoughts for long; it can be hard to bring him out of it. "I thought it was because you knew I was going to bring out the puppy eyes." Yes, ladies and gentlemen, he still uses them to try and get his way and yes, it's still very effective; damn manipulative old fart.

"That was part of it," I scoff. "I've never been good at resisting those."

Dutch gave me that look as he continued to draw, presumably my torso next. I know he won't spare any details. "There were maybe a handful of times when they didn't work. You put up one of those big personal space bubbles. I didn't care to cross those. You'd chase me off, and I knew how good you were with the gun." He laughed, still that husky laugh from all those years ago.

I smirk. I admit I got a bit of a power trip out of that. The others . . . Oh, they couldn't help but stop and watch. Maybe I earned more respect from them, and I might have carried a little swagger with them as well. Everyone needs a little ego boost.

"But . . . You'd always charmed and wormed your way back into my heart," I laugh, fondly remembering; putting up those invisible barriers was for the best when I felt my blood boiling after he said or did something particularly stupid, but it was so hard on both of us. "You did your damned 'I'll lie in your lap while you read so you pay complete attention to me' thing, to buying expensive things for me from chocolate to wine and silly imported cologne and gold watches and other expensive trinkets." Truthfully, one could think he was trying to buy off my anger, and maybe it was an attempt to do that, but . . . I found it amusing to see how far he'd go with it.

"You still have that gold watch from when that happened the first time," Dutch said, a certain twinkle in his eye; it still works after all these years. "Bought it with the money I got from that bank job."

There were so many opportunities that he had where he could just steal something for me but just didn't. "You never did like stealing my gifts directly."

"I find it more rewarding," Dutch murmured, a wide smile appearing across his face; from the motions of his hand, he's working on some shading. "Besides, we got the money, might as well put it to some use."

I find that charming. And one of his best assets is that he's charming, and he can be an absolute menace with it. It's why, of course, I've gone softer on him than I should have over the years. I could have rejected those little gifts when I dropped my invisible barrier, could have shoved him off my lap when he crawled into it, but . . . Sigh. He's impossible.

Then, Dutch charms me yet again.

He turns the sketchbook around to show me the progress of his work.

I'm speechless.

"You like it, Hosea?"

I swallow hard. I feel vulnerable once again, but . . . Something else.

Desired.

Laid out in front of me in that drawing is a portrait of an aged man. He has skin that has sagged in places, wrinkles, and contours that weren't there before. He has a slight paunch, very slight, that was once flat. Details of the legs haven't been completed, but there's already the start of some muscle definition there. And yet he carries himself with an air of dignity and wisdom. The shoulders and arms that he's bracing himself on are still nicely toned; maybe not as toned as they were in his youth, but no judgment. He's looking off to some faraway destination, that if I didn't know better, was miles away versus the other handsome elder man a few feet away.

"Yes . . . Yes, I do."

I seem transfixed for a long moment; we just give each other soft eye contact, saying so much with that alone. How we love each other, how we trust each other. He slowly moves back to drawing but peeks out at me from the top of the book as he does.

"What would you say about getting this framed?"

I break my expression to smile. "I'll steal the damn frame for you."

I get another hearty laugh out of him. He works on my legs next, and then my. . . assets. He's a study in concentration, not letting one bit of detail escape him. He knows his way around my body better than I do. Even at our age, we still explore each other as if it is the first time again; truthfully, with that familiarity he has of my body, he probably could have done this drawing blindfolded.

When he's completed, Dutch slips up next to me with the sketchbook clutched to his chest. He has a smile that wouldn't have just lit up our house with electricity, but also the next residence a few miles away that belongs to Lenny. He wraps an arm around my shoulder as he shows me the completed drawing, and I feel a hint of that strength that he still has as he gives me even a gentle squeeze.

I swallow hard, snuggling into his embrace. He senses that I'm getting emotional and kisses me on the top of my head, then my shoulder, and that spot between my head and shoulder. I feel myself nearly speechless, and the words that tumble out of my mouth don't seem enough to convey how I feel. Every detail was etched in; he even drew in scars I've collected over the years. I still feel an edge of vulnerability, but . . .

"It's wonderful, Dutch, thank you . . . " I turn in his hold and hug him tight, lightly rubbing his back as I do; although it still feels strong, the skin shifts there more easily these days and ripples underneath my fingers.

"You make me feel . . . Handsome."

Dutch gives my shoulder a squeeze. "Because you are, Old Girl."

"It's been a while since I've done some drawing, mostly landscapes and rabbits and things as you know, but I promise that I'll try to do you justice."

He nuzzles a kiss on my cheek. I still love the feeling of his bristly stubble on my cheek.

"Don't worry, Old Girl, I'll love it."

There is both unpredictability and predictability to Dutch, even now; he's frustrating in that regard. At the same time, he's a boy who's insecure and needy, craving every scrap of attention and affection that can come his way. He gets plenty of both, but Dutch is Dutch, and I don't see that changing anytime soon.

I take the graphite stick and sketchbook from him as he hands them over, kissing him on the cheek reluctantly as I break away from the hug and shift over to sit at the corner of the bed. "Now, pyjamas off. If I had to, you have to too." I sneak a playful wink.

Dutch chuckles and strips off the pyjamas, deciding to make a little show of it just as I did for him because Dutch is Dutch. He's already front and centre of attention as he's about to restart his modelling career, who thought he'd get back into it at sixty-five? I scoff and roll my eyes; this man amuses me as much as he can frustrate me.

I think for a moment about what pose he should get himself into. He does look rather sexy when he's brooding and smoking a cigar, is still rather delicious when he takes on a pinup girl pose, a silly thing he sometimes does to help get me in the mood. I could have him pose on his hands and knees, but I fear that would be too distracting for me. Then I had another idea, one pose of his that I find so underratedly sexy and beautiful.

"Now something... Vulnerable," I warmly suggest, my eyes gently meeting Dutch's eager gaze as he waits for further instruction. "Maybe that pose you often take after we've had sex, after the aftercare, where you look so... Delectably submissive." As much as the sex is still good and as much as we enjoy, I relish that period afterwards; I often lie in the crook of his arm as we lazily trace patterns on each other's skin, sometimes blowing raspberries on each other if we're feeling silly, and if this isn't unfolding at night, it causes us to happily put off whatever else needs to be done in the day.

Dutch smiles shyly at me and slowly lies on his back. He tucks one hand behind his head, as if playing with his hair (something he does when caught in a lie or playing coy with me for one reason or another), while the other is tucked up on his chest, not unlike a dog who wants his belly rubbed. His legs sprawl out, openly exposing his genitals. His expression is soft, trusting, and loving, his body language submissive and vulnerable, echoing the trust in his expression. At once, he looks incredibly sexy and slutty, yet adorable; a wonderful contradiction before my eyes that I could just about gobble up. Cute aggression, as they call it, is very real.

"You look comfortable," I murmur, letting my eyes roam over him before I start; my voice is soft and soothing, as if calming a restless horse instead of the man who looks anything but restless. "And absolutely... Precious."

Dutch almost whispers; many of you know him as someone who can be, well, loud. "The only way I could be more comfortable would be if you'd be snuggled up against me."

"That'll come when I'm done, Dutch," I smile, deciding to start with his face; I know how hard it is to maintain expression, so I thought it'd be humane to start with that first. "You still have such a gorgeous face."

Truthfully, I feel his face looks wiser than he is, but I love framing it in my hands as I look into those eyes. That big nose is a feature that some (wrongly, in my eyes) view as 'ugly,' but I find it to be wonderful, so unique, and I kiss it at every opportunity. Likewise, I find something special about that cleft chin, which he loves getting scratched. I love tracing a finger along his jawline, along those cheekbones, and of course, kissing those lips. I admit, I enjoy scratching that stupid soul patch, and I can't resist tracing a finger along that mustache as those early morning rays peek through the curtains. I draw each of these features in order of my narration in this paragraph and pour my heart into putting as much detail into them as possible.

Just as he had done with me, I want Dutch to feel as handsome as I see him.

"We should do this more often," Dutch spoke with a slight catch in his voice in his suggestion. "I think... I think it'd be a good way to remind us of the beauty of growing old."

I was touched by that and swallowed hard. He's right; there should be no shame in growing old. Old age shouldn't be something to be ashamed of; it's an accomplishment. I waste no time in making my decision.

"Absolutely," I answer softly, thinking of how beautiful the flowers are in spring in our surrounding area; we reside at what was once called Hanging Dog Ranch. Dutch decided to call it Casa Van der Linde. Are you surprised?

"During nice weather, we could even do it outside. I think that'd be lovely out by the flowers, by the creek."

There was no argument from Dutch. It's one of his favorite spots to read, go for a ride. I've once worried he had gone missing, but I've found him napping against a boulder among the lupins with that damn Evelyn Miller in his lap.

One of his novels, you perverts.

Once I was done with his other facial features, after I etched in my last detail for his ears, I shift my focus to his hair. It's still beautiful, and even more so now that it's silvered, and long! It hangs down his shoulders like a lion; magnificent. And it shines so nicely in those warm sunsets and sunrises and in the candlelight. His hairline has been receding, but he still has those lovely ringlets which I love to twirl between my fingers, and Dutch gets just as much enjoyment out of it. He still pushes his head back against my fingers, his eyes closed in contentment; it's not unheard of that my scalp massages, my playing with his hair goes on for hours. At times, I use his hair as something to grip onto for more risqué purposes. I know what you're thinking, but no, that's not the reason behind his receding hairline.

When I reluctantly pulled my attention away from his hair as I drew one more curl in, I worked on his neck next. The skin there had lost some elasticity, as mine had done as well, but still strong enough to carry that big head of his; it's weighed down with mangoes and plans. Then, his shoulders are my next target. They still have some nice muscle tone to them, and attached, long, lean strong arms (whose skin is thinner these days) that still hold me close and strong at night, as if protecting me from the boogeyman at night.

"I always liked your arms, you know," I muse, taking my time and shading them. "Lean and long and strong, and how I just... fit so well in them."

Dutch looks lost in thought for a moment, though I knew he was listening. There's a warm look in his eyes as if he was reliving a memory. "I remember holding you for the first time. It was that cold night . . . Someplace in West Elizabeth, before there was more development out in Strawberry. The fire wasn't doing a good enough job at keeping you warm and I thought, you'd be warmer up against me."

I chuckle, remembering. We tried to get back there for our latest anniversary; alas, the location was turned into a hunter's lodge for the rich, some big gaudy thing. It made our hearts sink. "It was when we were getting to know each other a little more. Truthfully, I thought you were coming onto me, holding me that close, and so tight. Not that I minded if you were, of course. I kept warm."

There's a spark in Dutch's eyes as he remembered. When you're married to someone as I have been, you notice little things that they tell you with their eyes. "I opened up my coat and pulled you into it, couldn't get all the way closed but I think the combination of our body temperatures compensated."

I can almost feel that warmth again. He had a massive Grizzly Bearskin coat that was an import from Canada, before getting that Black Bear one you might have seen him in; he unfortunately lost it during a train robbery.

Once I finished the shading on his shoulders and his arms, I start sketching out those big hands. I love them. His long, lean fingers are a bit stiffer these days, particularly in the colder months, but still do what they need to do; Special Tonic helps our old man hands tremendously. I massage his hands when they get particularly ouchy, as he does with me; Dutch always gets a bit grumpy when I start, but eventually, he gives in and enjoys it. If you guessed it, yes, he's still a bit of a baby at times over things. He still touches me in the right way, in the right places; they work well for that.

Just to tease me, Dutch plays with that hair a titch, giving me the puppy eyes look for no reason other than he can. I shake my head, scoffing. "You are really trying to prolong this, aren't you, Dutch?" I tease.

"Just got some locks caught up in my fingers, is all," Dutch teases, knowing that I know better. "I want my hair to look presentable for the drawing."

I scoff again, turning the book around to show the progress. "I've already drawn it."

"Oh, he's handsome!" Dutch grinned, giving his hips a bit of a squirm. "If you're not careful, I might flirt with him."

Flirting at an illustration of himself! It's just so... him. I just had to laugh, even if I encouraged him.

"You are impossible, Dutch."

Dutch just chuckles, giving that waist a bit of a squirm because he can. I pause the drawing for a moment because he is simply being too distracting.

"And now you're flirting with me!"

"When don't I?"

That old imp got me then. He always flirts with me; I could be reading the paper while sipping my coffee when he decides to pull my attention away by kissing me on the neck. It comes off as a bit silly these days rather than sexy. I haven't been able to fully read a newspaper in the morning in over thirty years, I'm secretly amused, and I think he knows it.

I eventually do get back to the drawing, moving my attention onto his chest. As mentioned earlier, the skin is, well, less taut there these days. He's never been the most barrel-chested fellow but looks even less so these days; all the same, I still love laying my head on it, feeling, and loving the warmth from it. I still love blowing kisses right over that heart, as he does with me. I etch in the details as I see them presented before me, details that took him a long time to come around to accepting, with some convincing from me. He's been gaining positive associations, learning to like parts of his body better through my kissing them more. Over time, Dutch has been feeling more handsome these days, something I regret from time to time!

"You ain't drawing me with saggy tits, are you?" Dutch teased; he's growing more comfortable with his aging body, so much so that he'll crack a joke about it.

"You drew me with a potbelly," I playfully retort, though I won't live in denial; I do have a tiny bit of one these days that has been resistant towards me working it off, but alas, it remains. "It's only fair."

The graphite stick does its job as I gradually work my way down towards his lower torso, along that ribcage that carries a bit more flesh on it these days. Like the rest of his torso, he's still very ticklish there; I just have to dig in a little deeper when I poke him there, still often in public when I need to keep him in line. Most recently, Dutch got a good jab when he flirted with the new bartender in Valentine; a rather handsome, big Irish fellow of around our age who took a liking to us. I got a little jealous!

It was during that flirty moment that I cut short that we get older it's not uncommon for us seniors to... Get a little daring, and explore different things with each other. Maybe next time we're in town, we'll ask that Irish gentleman if he has any plans for the afternoon outside of pouring beer and cleaning glasses.

But! There's a drawing that needs to be done.

I etch in some more details on that mid-torso; one being a bit of a roll of his waist; a lovely love handle. I love them. They're something extra for me to grab that wasn't there all those years ago, and it's a secret kissing spot. That spot on his right hip is as sensitive as it ever was, though like his ribs I have to dig in just a little more to get a reaction out of him. Just because those hips, that waist, are a little thicker these days, doesn't mean they're any less slutty. Oh, they are. I'd be lying if I said he didn't use them to get his way from time to time. Imagine being manipulated by a sixty-five-year-old man's waist, complete with love handles! It's not something I'll openly brag about.

Dutch's ass is largely absent in this drawing; it's buried itself comfortably into the bedspread but a teasing hint of it is seen.

The next stop on the drawing Dutch tour, his belly. It was once so flat you could drive a train on it, and well, now, that train would fall off the rails. To put it bluntly, Dutch has developed a paunch (which I love), that I could just bury my face in — and I do. It sits like a well-used cushion as he lays in the manner in which he is posing, the lower roll slightly curtaining his groin. The married life has been suiting him well; there are some consequences to hand-feeding each other expensive imported chocolate from Europe every evening, but we've earned it for living as long as we have with the lifestyle we've led. If I want to hear his laugh, I'll blow a kiss on that irresistible belly button that doesn't know it wants in or out.

It makes me sad to think that he had once been so self-conscious about the changes to his body. To me, with more flesh on him, more of him to love, he looks even more handsome as he's aged.

Dutch's genitals, which he openly has exposed in a show of voluntary vulnerability and submission, weren't spared of aging, but they still do their job. They're dipped down between his legs that lay sprawled before him, his pubic hair as grey as the hair on his head and chest. A lot of men of our age have trouble getting it up; we are not foolproof in this regard. As mentioned earlier, sex is still good, but when we can't get it up, we've found other ways to deliver pleasure to each other, and in many ways, sex is even more enjoyable as a result.

His legs are part of the final journey in this session. Dutch's are long and lean, and thanks to daily horseback riding, their musculature is still damn fine. Their appearance hides the stiffness that's in them these days; for us both, our walks take us a little more time. Now, before you take, would you be shocked to learn though that I suspect he milks it now and then through so that he gets leg massages?

Dutch's feet are my last target. Those too get massaged, sigh. I again leave no detail undrawn; yes, I even drew that gross big toe of his. He says it happened many years ago during a heist when he accidentally dropped a safe on his foot, but I know damn well it's because The Count stomped one night at camp. He had a few drinks and forgot his boots and well, bare feet around horse hooves aren't among the best combinations out there. Dutchi is a little dramatic; he likes to exaggerate from time to time.

I finish the drawing with some extra shading around those soft curves of his body and etch in a few details here and there that I have accidentally left out. I finish the drawing off with those rings of his, and I set the graphite stick on the bedside table. Just as he had done with me, I slip up into bed next to him, kiss him on the forehead, and open up the book to him with my arms around him as he cuddles up close into my lap.

Dutch gets emotional. We all know he's emotional, that's nothing to be alarmed at, but there are times when I think he's just going to crumble. I thought one of those moments was unfolding before my eyes as he rapidly blinks back tears. He's come so far in regaining self-esteem over the changes to his body; had I undone all of that?

Dutch shifts half of his torso into my lap to get a better look at my work, his eyes taking in the details. There's a noticeable waver to his voice as he speaks, but there's a smile on his face, and it can be heard in his voice.

"I don't think the finest artists out of Europe could draw a better likeness of me."

I was touched, honestly touched, but I laugh. Someone who hadn't drawn much lately aside from the odd rabbit and deer, and maybe the odd folks in town (clothed in case you get any ideas), better than those highly fluent artists who have their artwork displayed in major art galleries around the world? Dutch is still a charmer.

"Oh, you flatter me," I laugh, hugging as much of Dutch as I can. "But I think we both know you'd be thrown out of their studios. You talk and fidget too damn much for a model! You'd be a pain in the ass and go off on some philosophical rant about art and man."

Dutch belts out a laugh, turning over onto his back with a big, silly smile. We know each other a bit too well. "Oh, I thought I was being a bit on the quiet side."

I grab a lock of that hair, twirl a long silver strand between my fingers, and give it a playful tug. "Only because I didn't actively engage in conversation!"

"And you flirt! You'd be kicked out for that. Something about needing to maintain professional conduct between artist and model." As if to emphasize, I poke him on his chest and then his belly, because I had to make him squeak. He deserves it.

There's a playful twinkle in Dutch's eyes as he positions himself to be poked again; he secretly loves it. I can also almost see the wheels, rusted as they might be, turning in his head. He's planning something and plays it coy.

Oh, but I think we don't have to maintain any of that pompous professional conduct here. We're small gallery-type artists. Flirting just grows familiarity with the model and artist. We have the perfect formulation."

I sigh, shaking my head, but decide to play along and see how far he goes. I smirk a knowing smirk, knowing it'll just egg him on. "What if the artist and model have already grown very familiar with each other?"

"Then, flirting becomes flirting with creativity," Dutch speaks a bit lower, dragging a finger along my jawline, to my neck, to the base of my ear. My breath hitches sharply; he knows damn well how that touch affects me.

"It can change perspective, explore new art concepts."

The moment I saw that glint in his eyes, that smirk, I knew Dutch was going to make good on my promise to 'kiss every inch of my body.'

"It's important for artists to study their subject before they even pick up their medium of choice," Dutch perfects the voice of an artist giving a speech at one of those big art galleries as he sets the book on the bedside table.

"You want to take in what you see in front of you and decide, what style should I use? Should this be realism, or should it be abstract? What medium should I use? And what will the meaning be behind the result?"

Dutch gently, smoothly, lays me down and starts to kiss my neck. I close my eyes, taking in the warmth from his lips, his warm breath tickling the fine hairs on my neck. He slowly trails more kisses down towards my collarbone, spending some time there before making his way down further on my chest. My back involuntarily arches up off the mattress as I feel his tongue just lightly tease a nipple, urging more out of him.

In between those kisses though, and the further he shifts his way down my body, Dutch starts to offer a string of names and dates of some famous paintings throughout history. He's trying to impress me with his artisan knowledge. Sometimes, I think there's a library in that thick skull of his, but a library where the books have all fallen off the shelves following a tornado. It all becomes a mess of dates and names that I cannot possibly save for later reference.

I roll my eyes, trying to tune out Dutch's voice as I focus on the sensation of his lips and tongue exploring me as if it were the first time. I encourage him when he's quiet, my hands roaming through those long locks of hair, savoring how nice it feels after all these years and just how thick it still is. While my hair hasn't turned to shit, I might be envying his.

And then, Dutch brings up the subject of man and art and how it will change humanity.

Oh God. He's going philosophical.

I'll have to stop this or he'll be talking at all hours of the night.

I know that to interrupt his ramble, I'll have to put the kisses—wonderful as they are—on pause. I firmly guide him up so that we're facing each other and roll my eyes as he gives a look that resembles a love-struck teenager, wanting to kiss again after stopping to catch a breath after a lengthy makeout session. Only this is a sixty-five-year-old man who thinks he could kiss every inch of my body while rambling about the history of art and its philosophy without me falling asleep.

I smirk and, after wrapping my legs around him, I turn him over so that I'm on top of him; there's very little resistance from him. Before he can get another word in about 18th-century philosophy in paintings, I entangle my fingers through that gorgeous silver hair and ease him in for a long, lingering kiss on his lips, which he returns in earnest. It does a damn good job of shutting him up, and well, I rarely turn down an opportunity to kiss that man. His lips are still so soft, and that mustache creates a ticklish sort of feeling on my skin that might turn others off, but I rather enjoy it.

Despite our age, something primal sometimes stirs within us when our lips are locked and tongues slip into each other's mouths, and I love it. This was one of those times.

There's a subtle battle of dominance taking shape. Dutch rolls me back over as he pushes his tongue against mine, a low, animalistic growl erupting from his chest. Being that I'm still very much top dog in this relationship (something that certain someone needs to be reminded about), I simply can't allow that. I push him right back with all my might, which isn't much these days, but he doesn't fight back too strongly, knowing. As evident from how easily it was to turn him over, I would say some of that strength reserve of his isn't quite at full tilt either. He tries once more to gain control of the situation -- complete with a playful grab of my ass. Naughty boy! I give his hand a light smack as I turn him back over, and finally hold him down with my legs possessively wrapped around him.

When we break from the kiss, Dutch looks at me that way again, as if I were some magnificent sculpture in Italy instead of this old man lying on top of him. I smack him on his ass with a snort; there's a satisfying sound that sounds not unlike what you'd get from smacking the rear of a pig, if you're into that sort of thing. I'm not one of those people, so you'll have to use your imagination. He loves it, evident from his boyish giggle.

"Happy Valentine's Day, you old rogue."

Dutch just looks at me with that lovestruck puppy expression. I can't resist, and I kiss him again.

[lanaxoxoxoxoxox]

why can't i get you out of my head ?

this is part 2 !! read part 1 here

original request by @heiijoy

warnings: cute fluff, slight panic ig???

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

2 weeks later

If you have told 17 year old me that Ranboo and I were dating, I would have probably passed out. I've had a crush on him since we first met on the Dream SMP, and the fact that we're actually dating blows my mind.

I was chilling at Ran's house on his bed, scrolling through my phone as Ran worked on some writing for his horror series, Generation Loss on his desk. I peaked up from the edge of the bed and saw his back of his head and a slight few of his fingers typing on a Word document.

"You know, you better add me in the "Thank you" in the credits. We can tease the viewers and make them wonder who the hell I am! They're gonna go crazy when we tell them." I joked, putting my phone away in my pocket.

Ran turned his gaming chair around to face me and fixed his hair. I could see his chest moving up and down slowly from his breathing. "Speaking of telling." he paused. "I want to tell our friends about us. We're going to meet them later today, and I don't want to hide it anymore. I don't want to have to hold your hand under the table or wait until we're in private to kiss you. If you don't want to just yet, that's totally fine. We can take it in small steps, whatever you wan-"

I cut off his words. "Darling, I would love that!" I said, getting up to hug him. He sighed in relief and hugged me back, squeezing me tighter. "I do have an idea how we can tell them." I said, smiling, sitting on the floor next to him.

Ran perked his head up. "What if we don't tell them anything directly, but rather show it using actions? We try to make it obvious at the same time as well."

"Oh! Like we could hold hands in front of everyone very clearly and just wait for someone to react!" Ran smiled.

I smiled back at them. "That actually could be perfect."

4 hours later

Ranboo and I walked to the Brighton pier sign, and saw no one was there. We decided to take a quick photo to post on our socials to provide some "clout" for us. Ran grabbed his mask out of his pocket and put it on, and posed for the picture. As I was editing, we saw Tommy, Jack, and Niki start walking over to us.

I looked over to Ran and mouthed, "You ready?". He nodded and smiled at me.

We both walked over to them, not holding hands just yet. I ran over to Niki and gave her a hug. We all greeted everyone and I went over to Ran and grabbed his shoulder. Before we started dating, Ran would have been an absolute stuttering and blushing mess. Now, he's 100% more calm since we're together.

I looked over to take a quick peek at Jack's and Niki's face, and they both shared looks with each other. Tommy didn't even notice from his amount of energy. I giggled quietly into Ran's shoulder.

We were walking towards the arcade and I stopped to look up and Ran. I winked and said, "Love, can I have my wallet please?" I smiled at him.

Ran nodded and grabbed my wallet out of his pocket and gave it to me, smirking as he could see Jack and Niki shocked, even Tommy just standing there awkwardly.

Jack leaned over to Niki and spoke quietly to her, even though we could still hear them talking. "What the fuck?" he laughed.

We walked around the pier some more, and then went to the sea side to hang out for a bit. We walked down to the rocky area, and placed down our things on the log before sitting down. Ran was about to sit down on the log. This was the final step of our "plan" we had created earlier that day.

I pulled out my wallet and phone from my front pocket. "I'm going to buy water for myself, does anyone else want anything?" Jack, Tommy and Niki all shook their heads no.

Ran spoke up. "Can I have a water bottle as well?"

I nodded and went over to him and kissed him quickly on the lips.

I quickly saw Tommy and Jack stop in their tracks and stare at us.

Jack sputtered. "W-wha-what?"

Tommy yelled. "Why didn't you tell us, you bitch?!"

Niki just smiled.

Ran and I looked at each other and started laughing.

"Oops! Guess it's out now!" I said, sarcastically.

Gosh, I loved this man.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

this is really short but its so cute 😭❤️

please support me by liking, replying, rebloggling or following my blog! asks are currently open!

thank u for reading <3

love u lots xoxoxoxoox

[niniane17]

So I finally watched Saltburn. Spoilers, I guess? Whatever.

Why didn't anyone tell me what it was about? I thought it was some smutty teen movie about a crush! And there I was, thinking that my decade-long hyperfixation with the zombification process would never come in handy!!!

The rest is under the cut because it's a long read.

(As if anyone will care LOL)

I'll be honest and say I watched it mostly because I read somewhere it was a movie set in 2007 about a bunch of teens, and guess who also was a teen back then? I even visited Oxford in summer 2006. Though people had long forgotten Murder on the dancefloor. I think the hit was I don't feel like Dancing. Rosamund Pike was still known as Jane Bennet to most people, and she was in London starring in a Tennessee William play -I know because I had a leaflet, and I think I have it somewhere still. Oh those were the days!

But in the end, I'm glad I didn't know a lot about it, so I could enjoy with fresh eyes and no preconcieved notions, which I did, up to a point. Then I stopped.

Please note that I will only describe the themes here, because if I were to nitpick the plot (especially its insane timeline) I may never finish. Though I do wish we'd seen the dialogue between Lady Catton and her lawyers at the end: I may buy her being stupid enough to give away her inheritance to some kid she knew years ago, but I absolutely don't buy her legal firm accepting it.

Ehm. Anyway.

It has been described as an "eat-the-rich" film, and in a way it is, in the same way The Witch is about female empowerment.

As I said before, much of the audience's confusion towards that movie comes from the fact that we see women's liberation and empowerment as a good thing, whereas the folktales clearly depicted it as a bad thing. The same thing happens here.

The protagonist does, in a way, eat the rich people around him, or rather he drinks them, since it mostly uses the vampire metaphor, but it's not supposed to be a good thing. I've read somewhere it's supposed to be "ambiguous" but no, sorry, there's nothing ambiguous about it. The upper class is depicted as stupid and kind of rude, but ultimately harmless. Most notably, we don't even know how they made so much money, though it's hard to believe they made it by being silly and harmless.

In contrast, Oliver lies all the time, and the big twists* about him are that he faked his poverty, revealing a wallet full of money (because if you have money in your wallet or even bank account that means you can spend it. Budget? What's that?) and that he faked his interest for Felix, at least initially. Perhaps he did come to love him eventually, but his desire is always tied to creepy or downright necrophilic acts, showing that for him, they're one and the same. The representation is crude, but the message is clear: the only way two members of different classes can be equal and in a loving relationship is if one of them is dead, and if you allow any mingling between the classes, lower one will absorb the upper one until there's nothing left of it.

Yeah, well, I don't care for that, to say the least.

I do understand the movie is symbolic, it's not like they're trying to hide it: there are vampires, doppelgangers, ghosts, fairies, minotaurs, pagan gods, and so on. I was sad for a moment there were no zombies, but then again, it's better this way: zombies represent undenturent servitude and slavery, and this is a movie where being faithful to your master is shown as a good thing. I really don't want to see a story where a Zombie Master is the good guy.

(You know you hit rock bottom when fucking Game of Thrones is better at themes than you)

So yeah, I do get it Oliver is a symbol. It's just that I think he's the symbol of something awful, right from the Victorian Era, with all its anxiety and fears about social mobility. It may be wrapped in a shiny package to appeal to young people but the content is reactionary and very dangerous.

Besides, even at a symbolic level, it's a failure: even the evilest vampire is made, not born. Who turned Oliver first? And where is it? Is it still out there, haunting Britain, Europe, and possibly the world, like a ghost? Nobody seems to care.

(Yeah, that's another thing: the upper class screaming for help because they're hunted by ghosts. Yeah, well, I sure hope you are. The question is by which)

(No, I'm afraid Dickens won't be of any help this time. Trust me, he really won't)

It isn't even that I don't understand the fear of being preyed upon and sucked dry by people close to you. I do, and it's even happened to me. But in my experience, the relationship with those people tend to complicated and very difficult to parse. In a way, it's almost a comforting fantasy thinking of them as machiavellian geniuses out to get you, rather than people who have their own shit going on and who just don't care about your feelings as you care for theirs. Or who just don't like you as you like them.

Speaking of which, I've seen people argue this is not a story about class but rather about shitty individuals, but it doesn't work. Just like Eggers' Witches are inextricably tied to their gender, and the horror comes from the difference between how women ought to behave and how the witches behave, Oliver's deeds are tied to his middle class extraction, and the horror comes from the difference between what he does and how he ought to behave instead.

And the members of the "lower class" do know how they should behave: indeed, towards the end we see Oliver being looked at with disgust by the manor's servants, and the butler is very antagonistic towards him. Tellingly, the movie's original ending showed Oliver being served the same breakfast he had refused at the beginning, symbolizing the fact that for the working class he will always be an usurper who may have inserted himself into the upper class but doesn't have the "right blood". I guess this was a little too much even for them.

Finally, it costs me to admit it, but even those filthy rich people have to work, or at least some of them do. The illusion of living a carefree life full of leasures is just that, an illusion. Once Oliver's dance is over, he's got a shitload of work ahead of him, possibly for the rest of his life. If he were a true-born (lol) parasite, that would scare him shitless.

I did like the deer costume though, it was neat. I also liked the dance, but I would have chosen Can't touch this instead.

TL; DR: Watch The Talented Mr Ripley instead. And then watch US by Jordan Peele. Ok it's set in a different country with different politics and blah blah blah, but at least it knows what story it's telling and also zombie metaphors are so much better for these things. Also I'd recommend The Shadow by Andersen too. It's a nice story that predates a lot of the modern doppelganger ones.

*Get it??? Oliver's Twists???? No but really, of all the literary references this is the one that makes the least sense. It just so happens that Dickens did, in fact, write about a villain focused on slowly evicting his master from his house in a parasitic way, and he was also compared to a vampire (and a zombie too, though Dickens doesn't use that word of course. And I think there's some ambiguous shit going on with him too, if you know what I mean). The difference is that Dickens, as a member of the middle class, wants to protect the middle class' interests so he depicts the working class member as the evil parasite. I guess what goes around comes around.

Couldn't anyone just...I don't know, google all this shit? It's not like Dickens is some unknown writer. I also don't think the Midsummer Night's Dream references were relevant, but I guess Othello would have been too obvious? IDK. Slutty fairies are cool, though.

[scarletpath]

I just feel like I need to get this off of my chest. Now, I love LOVE Overwatch. I pretty much started to play it when it first came out. I was completely in love with the characters and I just had to play the game. This was my first FPS too. I loved how the people working on the game continued to carefully craft and update the game with the players in mind. It felt good. Not only could you play as you wanted, but you also got rewards for working hard. Especially during the events. The skins and other unlockables that you gained all had a story behind how you got them. That D.Va Police skin? Yeah, I had to win 10 games in HOTS. That legendary Halloween skin? I was lucky and got that with the free Lootcrate I was given. I was grinding and earning anything that I could unlock. Even if it was for a character I didn't play. It was fun and I felt a great sense of accomplishment.

So imagine how excited I was with the launch of OW2. The promises of new content, new characters and maps. Upgraded graphics and more. I couldn't wait. I happily hopped onto my computer the day it released. At first it felt refreshing. Almost nostalgic of when I first started playing the game. But the Store. It made my stomach a little uneasy. I thought to myself "Yes, they removed the Lootcrates because it could be seen as gambling. And that it was illegal in some countries." So I let it slide for a bit. I honestly didn't mind the Battle Pass system they had in place. But I did notice that you couldn't work for anything that was in the Store. Everything had a price. Then came the first event. Halloween. One of my favourites. I was so excited to see what skins they would release. Imagine my disappointment when again, price tags were placed on the event exclusive skins. I even checked the rewards you could get during the event and it was pitiful. I felt like I was going to pull my hair out of my head, constantly being teased by the items I couldn't obtain without having to open my wallet. Every time I opened the game, it seems like they keep adding and removing items. Using FOMO to tease and tempt me. And I knew this feeling all to well. And I knew that if I fell prey to it, it would be very hard for me to get out of that hole.

A long time ago, I was addicted to a App game (Avengers Academy I think it was called). And they used this tactic. Bombard users with new items, skins and new characters. Set up events and make it nearly impossible for anyone with a life to obtain the special limited items. Dangle the things they want in front of them with a price tag and rake in the cash. I can't tell you how much I spent on that game. But I developed a problem. An addiction. And I knew what I had to do. I deleted the game and never went back. And now OW2 is doing the same thing. I can't tell you how much I really want to play the game but I know that if I give into the temptation of the store, I'll be in a very bad spot. I want to collect all the skins so much but there is no way I could spend that much money every time they release something new. So I quit playing the game. And it's really a shame. It plays so well. The characters are amazing. The maps are fun. But I know that I will develop an addiction, similar to that of gambling. In all honesty, I think using FOMO to make money is far more damaging than Lootcrates. At least you didn't need to buy the crates to get the items. So until something changes. I cannot go back to the game and it makes me so angry. But I'm doing this for my own well being. I don't mind the Battle Pass idea but they need to stop putting Skins and Characters behind paywalls. Everything should be achievable and rewarded with hard work. And that's just the thing. Every Skin is paid for. There is no reward and no incentive to the skins. So when I see them, I feel hollow.

Sorry, I rambled on. I'm just really upset about this. Again. I love the game. I just hate the greed. And I'm scared that if I just play it, I'm going to fall into a hole. A shame really. I had so many good memories and had so many good times with this game. So, yeah. I'm done playing this game.

[joyandeggs]

Five Things ♡ Tag Game

I won't tag anyone, I just wanted to do this again for fun. ❤️ Please tag me if you decide to do it though! I love seeing all the different responses!

Five things you would find in my bag...

Hand sanitizer (I love the Bath and Body Works ones... I need to buy some more, I'm almost down to my last one!!! I always have to have some on me.)

Lotion (Like with hand sanitizer, I always have lotion with me. I love lotion so much. Have to keep moisturized. 🥰)

A bunch of keys (My car keys, house keys, keys for work...)

Sugar scrub lip balm (One of the best things I have ever bought in my life.)

A photo of me whenever I was young (My Grandpa "Red" always carried an old kindergarten photo of me in his wallet. He held onto it until he passed. Now, I carry it in mine, just like he did. ❤️ It's like his energy is with me.)

Five things you would find in my room...

My manga (Too many books for just one skinny bookshelf!!)

Shoot McMahon (art and photos I have on the wall, my standee, my photocopies...can I actually have him though? 😭)

Blankets (In this house, we love blankets.)

A Kirby stress ball (one of the best gifts I ever got.)

My husband (who lives with me, hangs out, plays video games and builds Gundams... He is a really good cook. ❤️)

Five of my favorite things...

My dog (He can be a crazy mess, but he is my crazy mess, and I still love him so much.)

Fuji Kaze (My favorite Japanese artist. 😍💞)

Drawing (Despite the huge break I've taken from it. 😓)

Japanese food (especially takoyaki, sushi, and Ramen. 💗)

Kakashi (I would say Shoot, of course, but...I love him just as much. 💞)

Five of my habits...

Fidgeting

Saying "I'm sorry" too much and too often

Speaking in a cutsey voice (I just do it for fun, especially with my dog, but it's probably super annoying to my husband or anyone else who hears me doing it.)

Stuttering / Saying "uh" while trying to talk.

Bad stress and depression thoughts.

Five things about my personality or traits that I like...

A nice sense of humor (I laugh at pretty much everything, and I love laughing. Even though it's very loud and probably annoying. If I can make someone else laugh, I get super happy over it.)

Creativity (I come up with things, draw, write, even organize and decorate in a weird, creative way. I really do like that about myself.)

Heart (I try to be nice to everyone. It's hard whenever you work in customer service and people can be just plain cruel and uncaring, or whenever you're driving. 😓 Despite those things...I try. I love getting to talk to people online or out and about, and making their day with a compliment. I want to put everyone else first before myself, honestly.)

Determination (I guess this can go with the previous one. I'll say determination because regardless of my anxiety and depression, the stress I get from work and the bad thoughts that try to get rid of me, I'm still here. I'll keep going, no matter how awful I feel. It just takes one day at a time.)

Borderline clean freak (I'm probably weird for this, but I like to keep myself and everything around me clean as much as I can. Do I get lazy? Yes. Absolutely yes. My home is still messy and everything, but I honestly enjoying cleaning! Gives me a huge feeling of accomplishment, and it is so relieving. Always have to have sanitizer and wipes for everything.)

Five things I want for this year...

Make more things!! I miss drawing everyday, but I never feel like I have the energy or time to anymore. It doesn't help my wrists are bad, so it hurts even just scrolling through apps during the day. I have been writing a lot in downtime though, so I'm happy about that. I miss painting, too. Just doing anything really.

Write down recipes...or even make my husband and I a little cookbook or recipe box! He and his mom make such good food, and I love cooking myself. I wanna save some of our usuals to look back on.

Continue studying Japanese. I want to become fluent one of these days, if only getting close to understanding it a little better. Even that would be a big accomplishment from starting back in 2019.

Trying to get in better shape. My husband is trying to stick to his diet and lose weight, and I want to eat better with him. Been doing pretty good for years now though considering I don't like fast food and junk food really! LOL I need to get in better shape by just being more active in general though. I sit around too much.

Just try to take life as it is. It's not perfect, days don't turn out how you want them to, but...I'm here. I'm alive. Trying to be! One step at a time. It's just difficult. Things have been good though, and getting better everyday, so I'm thankful for that. And the little things in life that bring me my own joy. I rely on those too much, but whatever. ❤️

[troofless]

What did I do in 2024?

I did things to prove I was alive.

2024 really was a strange year for me in terms of my writing. I was pretty busy in the first half due to RL difficulties, but in the second half, I decided to look through my old WIPs and see if there was anything I could polish and publish.

When Your Presented Present isn’t Present in the Present (Genshin Impact) was picked up while it was still a mess of bullet points, written and published over (iirc) the course of a few weeks.

Seisou Bakuretsu Boy! (BNHA/MHA) was written for a dumb contest that I am still salty about because the winning fic was a meme that the server was in on that I did not get (don't ever community with MHA servers, the mods are the most toxic and self-entitled POSes I have ever seen who will jump your throat at the single toe out of their line they have devised in their head that they think is the server rules)

Just A Small Town Murder (BNHA/MHA) is my current brainworm that no one reads and I will abandon when I stop loving how much I want to write what goes through my head at post-war Bakugou

Kaname Date and The Mixer Tragedy (AITSF) is the most dumbest crack (reluctantly-turned nsfw) I have ever written with some of the most (self-written) delightful lines I have ever had the pleasure of re-reading years after I forgot I wrote them. I love the second chapter, but I doubt I will ever get around to posting it. My foresight predicts it will stay at 1/? for years to come.

I have a 30k kavetham monologue about Kaveh's toxic habits of self-loathing that I never posted because I hated writing the plot around it and rewriting it to try and make it a happy conclusive ending... eh.

As for my art, I drew a lot of stuff on my tablet, but never got around to posting them because most of them were for my OCs, or were touching up old unfinished WIP comics that I never got around to finishing. It's my dream to draw something that I like, but my skills aren't up there yet. The only thing of note I posted was this Komaeda-Aventurine fusion, which still makes me crack a smile whenever I look at it. (By the way, my favourite Hoyo character is Harumasa and the closest to the my ideal favourite male character so far in all of their games). (They need to make an Erza Scarlet for their game so badly, and my wallet will be theirs. Evelyn is close, I think.)

As for other things I did... In April of the year 2024, I went on a frantic shopping spree brought on by my end of year exam deluded frenzies (I hated my courses) and at the end of it spent an absurd amount of money plus shipping for a certain 2-volumed, out of print, long-forgotten series, novel. It wouldn't be a joke if I wrote here that I comforted my hellish days of not-studying for my exams by waiting for the book to arrive and tracking it on less than dubious mail/purchase sites and thinking how badass I'd be if I posted my TLs on a forgotten site (here) and how many notes I'd get (*looks at latest post*: 8) and how popular I'd be that I'd monetise the whole TLing process (I did not). A few years back, some stuff I did to TL in another fandom went poorly (the major TLer was a major dick, wow who would have thought of the TL community) and so me, still bearing the scars of that, thought to myself, welp, I have no idea how this will go, whether anyone will lambast me for it, or whether the project I'm about to undergo will ever be finished thanks to my habit of dropping things I'm not interested in, but whatever. If people want the updates, they can buy the books and do it themselves. Ha, checkmate. (My inner monologuing are the only things keeping my innate human craving for socialising in check, sometimes.)

After a few days of looking at my mail site screen and wondering, what the fuck, it says it's been delivered but I haven't received a package, I finally went down to my mailbox in the middle of the night and found out that, oh yeah, it already has been delivered, I just didn't check the mail. Derp. And so on that day, it began. I think almost immediately after I posted the first chapter (on my empty sideblog, with the coolest name ever that tumblr gave me but I decided to 'orphan' to rebrand myself after I the child had spent enough time thinking of a cool and remember-able enough internet moniker/username to call myself) I was hit with the equivalent of OH MY GOD, IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING from a total of like. 10 users or something, 2 of which reached out to me via DMs for [elaboration that I won't mention because I find it troublesome]. So yeah. I wasn't expecting the massive support I was given (almost none), or that my post was even noticed (who checks the [insert fandom] tag in 2024???? It's a dead fandom, the place literally celebrated its 15 years of existence only a few years back), or that I'd continue it via sheer force of willing it into existence for so long.

I have a whole changelog just for moments of reflection like these, and so it's really funny seeing how energetic I was in the first few months, and then petering off to about 1 update per month. In the first month along I hacked off the first section of the book, the second month finished off that first book (it was a goal of mine back then to do that), and then in the following weeks spent time TLing the most massive and boring loredump I'd ever have to slog through that definitely burnt me out, and set me on the path of the second book that honestly I was completely not interested in because the story doesn't really focus on [character and his bf's] adventures and more on societal commentary. Currently, I'm running the victory lap (if you can call it that when there's a good 25% more of the book to go), and I have no idea how this will ever pan out but I will make it my resolution to get it done by this year, I guess. (I never do resolutions because I am not good with making promises with myself, the liar). My friend who is helping me out is currently overseas and will only be back after the first week of Jan, so I'll only be able to pick it back up then. And as for what happens to me after that... I was thinking of picking up the accompanied manga for it, but someone else did it already, so hey, less work for me and I am looking at this tdbk doujin I bought a few weeks ago in Japan and wondering... hmm.... MAYBE.... (we will see).

Other than that, I guess I survived another year. Yippee!

I guess I can talk about my games. This year, Sinoalice fucking died on us and our guild was both happy and sad for it, in the way you're sad for a leech dying on you. I still play Sdorica (dead game) (here's to another year of .... nothing!), Another Eden (they are becoming more cash grabbity...), Genshin Impact, Honkai Star Rail, Reverse 1999, and Arknights. This year I picked up Zenless Zone Zero and just as quickly picked and dropped Wuthering Waves (ass game, amazing models tho, if you can get past how most of the designs are ass and similar in colour palette).

In terms of real life, I finally hit a stopping point in my life and started a new one. Pretty nice. 2025 holds a certain significance to me in a way, but honestly with how I am, I don't think I can expect anything much to happen this year, but I hope at least I'll still be alive at the end of it to see:

Legend of Sun Knight get a donghua adaptation (copium) (fucked MDZS for popularising the author btw, only MDZS deserves rereading and I'd never do that because I hate the love interest with a fiery passion)

the Tales of series to get a new teased game (copium, will not happen for a few years)

for Fire Emblem to get a new game (even more copium if you take a look at the release date for their latest game)

Thunderbolt Fantasy's movie (rip funds for S5), Hidan no Aria and C3 to get an official localisation (copium)

Link Click's Bridon Arc that is airing right now to finish!

Defeating the Demon Lord’s a Cinch (If You’ve Got A Ringer) to update (even more copium if you look at the last time the author updated their work and realise it's been relegated to AO3 WIP status)

MHA S8 Bakugou's GOAT scene being animated (RIP CH431 btw Hori did Bakugou so dirty there)

SWE to update their SAO Abridged and MHA Abridged version

Project Eden's Garden to update so I can brainworm Damon the funniest protagonist in murder mystery visual novel history (in my brain)

More games that I like to come onto the Switch (PHYSICAL COPIES) so I can buy and play them instead of coping for a PC

More fics to be written that I vibe with

For NicoB and Kashimaro, the only 2 YTers I actually follow, to keep on posting vids

With all of that being said, I guess there's nothing left to say about this thing I wrote on a Wednesday morning of a nothing on the first of January, 2025.

I'll walk as far as I can and until then, I'll persist.

Here's to another year of living.

[unholy-halo]

December 8th, 2024

What an amazing way to start the day, and by that I mean surviving another encounter with the dentist;; At least my teeth are much more white, for the low-low price of losing a bunch of blood and 70$! (I'm due to come back in 4 months, rip my wallet)

Also found out one of the game developers I talked to is actually a weirdo - they're not someone who have an audience nor did they publish a single game so it's not like I need to warn against them, but turns out they're a big fan of a game that sexualizes children + used an old transphobic slur to describe their protagonist. Obviously I blocked them on everything I could find them on, out of sight - out of mind. (I say, while writing all of this)

Lucha is leaving my ACNH island and I'm kinda... bittersweet about it? He wasn't my fave villager (I have Raymond living right next to my house, I'm basic AF) but he was always so nice and trying to motivate me to do my best! Jock villagers are great, they always root for you and would probably help me get fit if they existed IRL. This is so tragic, in fact, that my switch decided to give me the orange screen of doom. (I did buy Syberia 1 right before it died ironically)

Trying to figure a title for game A (I use code names for them, I tried to do project ______ for my games, but once I got to 'project paperclip' I realized how ridiculous the names are so I stopped, so now it's A-Z according to a list in my journal) and the first half of the title - love it, feels very natural for the genre. Now the second half needs to describe the game in interesting way without giving out spoilers (obviously there's at least 2 mysteries in the game, I just write like that).

Speaking of my games, my brain started coming up with ideas for a sequel for game E (which, mind you, just has a bunch of random notes and loose script written for it) but it works out so nicely because - 1. it's not a sequel for the sake of one, but I want to flesh out some things that didn't fit in game 1 because of narrative constraint (also might be able to fit a QPR in it!!), 2. there's a whole plot I had to remove from the script for game 1 because it made things so clunky, despite fleshing out some things about the world, so I can bring it back and make it the focus of game 2.

Finished my COTL bracelet yesterday but forgot to show. It started coming apart in the second half, so the fact it looks decent is a surprise:

Apropo one of the previous points in this post, turns out a friend I really cared for was defending the whole loli thing as screaming at me that I'm pro-censorship and want pro.sh.ippers to die. Uhm what? Sorry for expressing discomfort with a specific type game (where the main point is to r.ape 12 year old catgirls), but calling me names and then blocking me for being uncomfortable with this shit is just a weird way to go about being 'normal' about certain media.

This is... a whole lot of "fiction can't affect reality", when psychologist constantly explain that it isn't true. And yes people are responsible for their actions, which also means they can choose not to jerk off to this. Mindblowing, I know. (also didn't wish death on anyone, the reaction image was to portray how I'm setting myself on fire lmao)

I mean it from the bottom of m heart - enjoy whatever messed up shit you want, but if me setting a boundary that people like you and him shouldn't interact with me is what triggers you, maybe look inside yourself for why it pisses you off so much and maybe not act like an asshole? Like you can't defend pedophiles and then whine 'why do all my friends leave me 😭' because you just answered that yourself - you prefer to be friends with people who are more likely to touch children, and since you're thirty, they don't really want to befriend you.

[marshmallow--shark]

6, 9, 11, 14, 17, 19, and 26?

Whoa, so much. Let's see here..

6. What’s your favorite candle scent?

Err... Looks at candle on desk. Sugar plum. Sweets based scents are what I go for.

9. Best childhood moment?

Getting to do kinky roleplay crossover crackships in my friend group.

11. Do you have a comfort item? Tell us about it!

Comfort item? I don't get it. I do always carry around a picture of my wife Chakotay in my wallet, does that count?

14. Whats something upcoming that you’re excited for?

Hmm, the Voyager documentary! I don't typically like documentaries but I'd watch one for best Star Trek!

17. How do you feel best loved?

By buying me stuff like plushies, games & figures.

19. Have you ever written or received a love letter?

Yes I have received one before! Written I don't believe so. I've never truly confessed to anyone after all.

26. If you could live anywhere with anyone you want, where would it be and who would you bring?

Italy! I've always wanted to live in Italy, I love everything about it and it's one of the few foods I don't hate.