#oh mouthwashing my beloved

[gender-ihardlyknower]

[dadsmistake]

WDYM... WIP ? 😦😨

[ajaxneedssleep]

anya deserves her own post

[garbeanery]

Hearing Jimmy complain about giving Curly his painkillers is insane considering the other treatments that he probably needs. Since Curly's eyelids were burnt off, he needs his eyeballs to be consistently lubricated or else he would lose his vision and he can still see considering he could see jimmy grab the gun, and also see jimmy from the cryopod. The fact he isn't horribly infected or dead yet??? Painkillers is only one part, but the actual treatments so that Curly has enough fluids and is able to breathe is miracle work.

[klaasje]

ooh!! 🌤️ for the ask game? :0

🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP

technically this isn’t dialogue but writing the skills always feels like dialogue to me:

—

HALF LIGHT: You are meeting a bloody and murderous end right here, right now, on this mattress. You are going to die, and the taskforce will never solve your murder, and nobody is going to come to your shitty little funeral, or water your shitty little plants, or tell Kim that you—

YOU: Riding an abrupt wave of adrenaline, the sheets pooling in your lap, you lunge with both hands for the thing currently gnawing on your throat. You drag it away by the scruff of its neck and hold the writhing body at arm’s length, face to face with your murderer at last…

LOGIC [Trivial: Success]: Kitty!

HALF LIGHT: My bad.

PERCEPTION: Very orange. Two months, judging by the size and teeth, although it could be older; Revacholian strays are notoriously scrawny. Also, it’s filthy.

YOU: Why do I know…?

INLAND EMPIRE: He liked them. The man you were before you.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success]: Its tiny teeth are bared in a snarl, eyes slitted, ears pressed back. This creature is beside itself with fury. It really didn’t want to get caught. Especially not by such a strange, lumbering giant.

SUGGESTION: Scratch its ears, Harry. Go on.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: Give it some warning first! Nobody wants to be caught off-guard in enemy territory.

YOU: “Ah… hello.”

???: Two beady eyes snap open, staring at you. A squashed nose sniffs the air.

PERCEPTION: The truth here is unfortunate, but unavoidable—there is nothing about this face that denotes cuteness. ‘Cute’ is not an adjective this animal could ever hope to be associated with. Even by Revachol’s standards, this is an ugly kitten.

CONCEPTUALISATION [Challenging: Success]: The *Cuno* of kittens.

CUNO CAT: …

YOU: …

CUNO CAT: …

YOU: Slowly, with a gentleness that belies your nerves, you scratch the cat behind its ears.

CUNO CAT: Two gummy eyes slit closed. A grinding noise begins to emanate from deep within. It reminds you of a garbage compactor, or that horrendous sound you became acquainted with yesterday: the dull screeching of a beloved Coupris Kineema scraping its undercarriage on a pothole.

YOU: Man, poor Kim. Wonder how he’s holding up?

EMPATHY: ...Wait.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: Wait.

DRAMA: Oh, GOD—

INTERFACING [Challenging: Success]: Listen to me very carefully. I will only say this once. This is the Grand Couron Hotel, 3rd floor, room 39. It is 7:30am on a Wednesday morning. You are meeting your partner, Lieutenant Kitsuragi, at 7:45, outside the tourist information office. You are wearing boxer shorts (clean), a single sock (filthy), and no shirt. You are sober and uncaffeinated. Your suitcase is open under the window. You are not, for the time being, late for work. You have fifteen minutes to get your shit together.

SHIVERS: ʙᴇ sᴛʀᴏɴɢ, ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ. ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴇɴᴅᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴡᴏʀsᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜɪs.

VOLITION [Medium: Failure]: Fuck off, asshole. No he hasn’t.

NEW TASK: Get your shit together and meet Kim at the tourist office (speedrun!)

YOU: Shirt, on. Tie, on. Clean boxers, keep those on. God ass jeans… woefully inappropriate for a murder investigation, but they’re clean. Put them on. Patrol cloak, yes. Sunglasses, no. Socks—

INTERFACING: Ten minutes and counting.

YOU: Forget the socks. Shoes…

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success]: Something waterproof, easy to clean.

YOU: Cavalry boots it is, then. A hasty swipe of your fingers through your hair while peering in the bathroom mirror, a swig of mouthwash that burns your throat—

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: SHOTS, SHOTS, SHOTS!

YOU: ...And the face looking back at you resembles something approaching a human corpse. With a little more time and TLC, who knows? Maybe you’d look like a fully human corpse. That would be a fun surprise for your coworkers.

VOLITION: There is a map in your patrol cloak pocket, but you won’t need it. The tourist office is perched on the boardwalk overlooking the bay, a five minute walk from here. Left, then right, then another right. You and the lieutenant drove past it yesterday. Now, just get yourself out the door and—

PAIN THRESHOLD: And you’re being stabbed. Again.

CUNO CAT: Cuno Cat has attached itself to your pant leg, clawing upwards with grim determination.

[Physical Instrument: Medium] Remove the Cuno Cat.

[Rhetoric: Challenging] Reason with the Cuno Cat.

[Composure: Impossible] Ignore the Cuno Cat. It’s all gravy, baby.

RHETORIC [Challenging: Failure]: This seems like a rational, well balanced animal. You are a rational, well balanced man. Explain the situation, rationally. He’ll understand.

YOU: “You can’t come to my crime scene, Cuno.”

CUNO CAT: Those beady eyes bore unblinkingly into yours. The knife-paws inch perilously close to your shirt’s hem.

PERCEPTION [Challenging: Success]: A distant echo, faint but audible…

INLAND EMPIRE: Cuno Doesn’t Fucking Care!

LOGIC: (He doesn’t care.)

[king-of-havoc]

Me: oh look, beloved mutual on my dash. I wonder how he's doing. I should click on his blog...

Yay same brainrot! Hahahaha

HELL YEAH BABY

All my mutuals (or most of them) are into Mouthwashing and it's GREAT

[clownboybebop]

oh and a pox upon my beloved mutuals who got me to check out mouthwashing. excellent game, wish I’d never found it

[curly-capt]

I'm okay, but a hug is always appreciated. C'mere, Kid.

Captain, are you okay? :(

-@askdaisuke

I am now! Thank you, kiddo.

[kavehpilled]

help what is mouthwashing ive seen it around a LOT (<- understatement)

OH MY GOD its a horror game about this crew on a ship called the tulpar, their co pilot is an abusive asshole and the captain of the whole ship is just. a wimp but its ok we love him. daisuke is my favorite he is my beloved my everything i love him dearly & anya is like the epitome of a black cat with anxiety she is so. ugh. its so good there are so many horrors and its based around the idea that abuse affects everyone if left alone for too long & toxic masculinity along with some sexual assault themes its. oh my god its so good PLEASE watch a playthrough it you can its beyond worth it

[toxycodone]

All your self ships, please :)

These are the ones I like, take seriously. I’m organizing them by like how present they are in my mind currently LOL

I also have insane amounts of self ship lore (I can’t be normal) if u ever want to know.

Mouthwashing

DAISUKE. (Oh my god I love him. In my mind he’s like 18/19/20 and I’m 24 and he’s my stupid young boyfriend. We are so Greg x Rose from SU coded in my mind.)

Dungeon Meshi

Laios. (My beloved my baby my one and only GOD. Yeah. I have a lot to say here. It’s. Yeah. Autism for autism.)

The Boys

Homelander (kill me)

Our Life

Cove Holden (MY MAN. MY MAAAANS AUTISM FOR AUTSIM AGAIIIIN)

Haikyuu

Bokuto + Akaashi (throuple vibes)

Osamu (listen.)

South Park

Kyle (LISTEN I SAW THE POST COVID SPECIAL AND. MKND BLOWN. HES SO HOT BITCHY OLD MAN OK)

MHA

Mirio

[lilkrissmuffet]

Hey hun, that Mouthwashing art you reblogged was stolen here’s the original from the artist

https://www.tumblr.com/sarahdraws16/766370411316494336/poor-curly-my-beloved

Oh jeez, thank u for letting me know! I'll delete that one and reblog the original ASAP ❤

[dainty-fingertips]

another short 90’s doc ock drabble

||

Laying lax against you, his hands sprawled above his head with one crossing over you. The warm embrace of your bed in your back and your husband to your side was damn-near tranquillizing. There are seldom pleasures in this world quite like laying down with your beloved husband after he's been gone all day, rubbing soft circles into his sore back while he dozes off in your embrace. “Leibe,” he murmurs, drawing your eyes to his rising head. His voice was quiet and tired. “I must apologize. It was rude of me to come home to you, my dear, and not give you the chance to tell me about your day.” He laid his head down on its side, peering down at you with icy, almost grey eyes. You couldn’t help but let your lips curl into a soft smile.

“Oh, it was just fine, sweetheart.” You raised your hand slowly, beginning to comb your fingers through his thick hair. Your nails drew gentle against his scalp, making his large form shiver slightly. “I looked into buying the sheet metal you needed. It should arrive at the meeting spot in a week or so.” Otto hummed in contentment. “Wunderbar.” His low rumbling tone warmed your cheek as he spoke, his breath that of a crisp mint from the strong mouthwash he’d used only minutes ago. His eyes closed as he moved to cup your cheek. “May I kiss you, Leibe?” He murmured. You allowed your eyes to shut as well, tucking further into the secure embrace he held you in beneath the covers of your bed. “Please do.” You turned your head to the side and pressed your lips to his own. He moves his hands from your cheek and into your hair, holding your head close to him.

[tropesandmopes]

Sometimes taking care of yourself is about anticipating your own dumbassery.

For example, today I noticed my nail polish remover was next to my mouthwash. I frequently brush my teeth when tired. I moved it before the obvious mistake could happen.

But that's an extreme example! Sometimes it's about putting your meds next to your bed because you're always too tired to go get them. Putting your gel pens next to your calendar so you'll actually write on it. Putting your sneakers closer than flip flops because then maybe you'll go for a walk.

I've been thinking a lot recently about what it means to tailor your environment. It doesn't come naturally to me, so it never feels obvious, even though afterwards I'm like oh, that was so obvious. And I think part of it is because for so long I haven't had control over my environment even when I really needed it. Schools (at least in the states) are notorious for not accommodating students, and that's what it was like for me. So often I had/have to pick the option that hurt me so I could adapt to my environment, and so it rarely occurs to me to adapt my environment even now that I have some control over it.

So it's something I'm working on. Taking the wrist brace with me when I know I'll be writing. Putting fruit snacks and crackers in strategic locations because I'll forget to eat. Moving that chair I always tripped on so I stop tripping on it.

What does it mean to shape your space to suit you? What does it mean to anticipate your needs?

What if you treated yourself like the most beloved five year old in the world? How would you change your environment?

[darth-nuts]

The Feng rizz varies between genders

Nuwa wooing Goumang: “Oh how radiant thou art, raven haired angel of the forgotten peaks of Yumin. How sharp in mind and strong in body. Allow me to embrace you once more my beloved, let us off cast our garments and make sweet passionate love, here and now!”

Fuxi wooing Ji: “I want to gargle your immortal balls like fucking mouthwash”

[lick-me-lennon22]

George caring for a sick Dhani 💜

(thank you to @pmak2002 for this request!! it was supposed to be just a blurb but I did a little research beforehand and it ended up pretty much becoming a whole fic 😅 oops... either way, I hope you enjoy this one! 💕)

When Dhani wakes up for school on Monday morning, he immediately knows something his wrong. His throat is sore, his nose is runny, and his muscles ache like nothing he's felt before. He painstakingly drags himself out of bed, clutching the sheet around him, and heads straight to his parents' bedroom where he finds his mum Olivia still in bed. Dhani notices that the bathroom door is cracked open and cautiously steps inside to find his father, George, brushing his teeth. "Dad..?" he says quietly, voice hoarse. George startles, turning around to see Dhani in his unfortunate state and spits his mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, letting the water wash it down the drain before turning the tap off. "What is it, my boy? You sound bloody awful..," he gently presses the back of his hand to Dhani's forehead to assess his temperature. "You seem to be running quite the fever, son- let's get you to the doctor, all right? Just let me finish up in here and I'll be right out to take ye" George says. Dhani nods weakly, coughing into his elbow, and shuffles out of the room. George jumps into action- he swishes and spits some mouthwash, changes out of his sleepwear into a button-up and jeans, and sprints to the car, his son following close behind him and hopping into the passenger's seat.

 

"This is ridiculous.." George mutters under his breath as he walks his son out of the clinic and gets into the driver's seat of his car. They had been able to see the doctor almost instantly upon arriving; he had taken some swabs, run a few tests, and determined that Dhani had contracted the flu: "He probably picked it up from school," the doc had said. When George had requested a prescription of some kind to alleviate his son's symptoms, the doctor simply shook his head: "I'm afraid there isn't much we can do for him. The flu's been going around at many schools, I've seen a lot of children this past week with the same complaints. As it stands, all I can tell you is to give him some over-the-counter medicine, bring him some saltwater to gargle for that sore throat, and be sure he gets plenty of fluids and bedrest." George tried to argue, stating that there must be something he can do to cure Dhani of his illness sooner- but as the doc's hands were tied and George didn't want to subject his son to more stress, he took Dhani by the hand and led him out of the office, through the lobby, and back to the car. "Alright, my boy," George sighs- "seeing that the doctor was no help whatsoever, we're headed straight to the drugstore for anything that'll help you feel better. Sound good?"

"Yeah Dad, sounds good" Dhani croaks out and smiles weakly, glad just to spend some time with his father. Being a famous musician and all, George isnt able to spend as much time with his son as he'd like to, a lot of it consumed by work and media-related endeavors. Dhani admired his Dad more than anyone else in his life and though they rarely got the chance to hang out nowadays, they were practically best friends and had formed a close bond throughout his childhood. George was always a fun parent, bringing his son along to festivals and such ("Don't tell yer mum," he'd say with a grin), and sticking up for Dhani to authority figures and even other kids at his school- he was fiercely protective of his boy. However, he was also a gentle parent who allowed Dhani the chance to explore and express himself, and had fostered a mutual respect between the two of them since his son was but a toddler.

"I'm pulling you from school for the whole week" "But what if I'm- *cough*- all better before then?" "Just in case, Dhani- it's not like you really need them and their indoctrination, anyway.." George grumbles, never having been a fan of traditional schools or their teachings. Dhani however has always cared about his grades and paid close attention to the lessons he's been taught, in spite of what his father thinks. "...Okay, Dad" he says meekly, wanting to protest but unwilling to sacrifice more quality time with his famous father. George pulls into the parking lot of the nearest drugstore and marches in, intent on gathering all the supplies his sick boy could need: tissues, lozenges, cough syrup, pain medication, ice packs, and even more tissues- 'just in case.' He makes his way to the checkout, queuing up, paying for the items and hauling his bags back to the car. He drives Dhani home as quickly as possible, carrying him to bed and tucking him in before calling and cancelling any studio time, interviews, or collaborations he'd previously planned. There's only one committment he can't cancel- dinner with Paul tonight for the first time in ages. George sets his son up with all of the remedies he'd bought and tells his wife Olivia everything about the situation, including the "unhelpful and useless" doctor they had gone to see. She of course agrees to care for Dhani, sending her husband on his way to dinner with one of his long-time best friends.

 

The following day George rises just before noon, having stayed up late to pal around with Macca. He runs the few errands on his agenda, including grabbing his family some lunch, and pulls into his driveway back home where he spots the vehicle of none other than Richard Starkey parked outside. He makes his way to his son's room to discover that Uncle Ringo had come to visit the sick young lad (having found out from Paul that Dhani had come down with a bad case of the flu), joking and cheering him up to distract him from his poor state. The two close friends chat for some time in the living room before Ritchie departs, Olivia checking up on Dhani in the meantime. George thanks his wife and dismisses her from her nurse duties, taking on the responsibility himself. He tiptoes to his son's bedroom cautiously and enterd to see that he's been tucked in, the ice pack George had picked up from the store the previous day resting on his forehead, half-lidded eyes trained onto the telly. "Dhani..?" "Oh- *cough*- hey, Dad"

George approaches the bed and sits down carefully, holding a paper bag out to Dhani. "I brought you a burrito- your favorite," he grins down at his son, who takes the bag: "Really? *cough*- Thanks Dad, you're the best!" he says, hands emerging from the blankets to tear into the treat. George stays sat on the bed, determined to spend time with his sick boy and make sure he knows how loved he is. Glancing around the room at the piano and guitars he's bought and played with Dhani, then back to the young man, Ringo's words from earlier echo in his mind: "He's growing up into such a wonderful lad. He's just like you, ye know- good looks and all."

Olivia had always said they were very alike, but he'd usually dismissed the observation... until now. George couldn't help but realize that they were right- though he was but eleven years old Dhani was already becoming a very talented and creative musician, having learned much about music from his dad. He'd certainly taken after his Beatle father in that regard, and they were in fact very similar- not to mention their near identical looks. Sharing his Dad with the world had been difficult and a bit isolating for Dhani despite his many school mates. He admired and looked up to George from a very young age, always striving to be just like him. As Dhani grew up before George's eyes, he became more and more like his father by the day and George was immensely proud.

His train of thought was broken suddenly when Dhani finished the burrito, crumpling the paper bag and tossing it into the bin. He landed the throw, earning a hearty laugh and a high five from his father. He closed his eyes and laid back, George stroking his hair gently, the two of them cherishing this moment of father-son love. "Are you gettin' sleepy, Dhani?" he asked tenderly- his son nodded in response, already drowsy despite the brightness of the late afternoon sun. "Tell you what- I'll play you a lullaby, that way you can rest easier and know that I'm here beside you." "Dad," Dhani chuckled, "aren't I a little too old for that?" he lied, secretly longing for the affectionate gesture. George grabbed his son's acoustic guitar from its stand and begin to tune it: "You're never too old for yer old man's love and attention, eh? Now you just relax, close your eyes, and rest." Dhani didn't protest any further, heeding his father's instructions with a soft smile on his face. With that, George began to play- he chose "Here Comes The Sun," fingers strumming the strings gently and with care, dedicating the sweet words to his beloved son. By the time he was finished Dhani was fast asleep- grin faltering as he drifted off, but still visible on his lips. George placed the guitar back on the stand gently, taking care not to wake the sleeping lad. He smiled to himself, tears welling in his eyes as he turned to admire his son's peaceful face. "I love you, my boy," he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on Dhani's forehead before tip-toeing out of the room and shutting the door cautiously. Back pressed against the wooden door, George let his eyelids fall shut and sighed: "Sweet dreams, Dhani." ♡

[chibi-tofu]

Hearts In Boxes

A Very Hannibal Christmas AU

(Domestic Hannigram. Stealing each others clothes. Awful Christmas Puns. Doggos. Hannibal being a shit. Will being a flirt. An apology. SO MANY BOXES. Mainly fluff and a bit of smut.)

Hannibal stretches out Will's shirt and has to apologize. V cute.

Crop Top Hannibal.

(Sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes, kinda new to writing.)

-----

December.

Hannibal started noticing his winter wardrobe getting smaller bit by bit. Starting in mid October up until the 15th of December, The day he caught Will red handed! Will was making coffee and preparing the dogs’ food and seemed to be wearing a lavender button up. While it seemed slightly big on him, he looked stunning. The fact that he was wearing a silver chain and that the button up was only buttoned halfway distracted Hannibal from registering it was his shirt. The next day Will was wearing a dark navy sweater that he knew would get noticed. As it was the one Hannibal would store in his car for if it got below 45 degrees outside or if he got blood on his current outfit. He was wearing it paired with some ridiculous boxers with dog paw prints on the back while reading by the kitchen counter. Hannibal was amused and decided to play along as he stood in front of Will and put his hands on the counter on either side of him. “Darling, Is that my sweater? It looks rather familiar.” Will smiled and gestured to his torso “This? Is it? I had no idea.” then ran a hand up the side of his lover “Would you like it back? Now? I do have a busy day. Might have to pencil you in.”

Hannibal loved this game. Really, any game where he could make Will laugh. 

So began the Wardrobe Week War.

Hannibal stealing Will’s beanies, Will stealing Hannibal’s ties. Both stealing and hiding each others shoes, then keys, and even any pair of fuzzy socks. Most nights would end with kisses, a few with “Will, This shirt cost more than your entire wardrobe, I’m not going to rip it off you.” 

Hannibal decided to be a shit on the 21st and wear a shirt that was gifted to Will last Christmas. An ugly Christmas sweater shirt that read “Bah Hum-Pug” with pugs running across the bottom of the shirt. It just barely fit his boyfriend, rising up to show a bit of his stomach when he lifted his arms. So when the blonde stretched this shirt onto his torso he expected Will to laugh and retaliate. Will cocked his head and gave a tame half smile then sighed “You’re a dork. What are we making for dinner?” Not much of a reaction, this was strange but he decided not to bombard him with questions. “I was thinking prosciutto roses on watermelon since the two bottles of Batard-Montrachet were delivered yesterday.” Will pouted a bit “Not the most festive, is it?” Hannibal made a slight twirl with his hand as he boasted “I promise you it will taste incredibly festive, he was dressed as Santa after all.” Will shook his head, kissed Hannibal’s cheek, then stood up “Change and meet me in the kitchen, or you’ll have to fight me for the oven.”  

December 23rd.   

Hannibal was busy trying to find a whisk so he could finish the sugar cookie dough as Will sat at the bar and mixed icing colors. Hannibal asked him if he had seen the whisk twice but his beloved seemed to be stuck in an introspective state. He softly rubbed Wills back as he asked “Feeling okay? There’s something lonesome about you, pet.” Will looked tired, bags under his eyes and his hair slightly mussed. He made a small hum in response and continued mixing the food coloring into the icing. Hannibal dipped his finger into one of the small icing bowls and swiped the tip of Will's nose. Will gasped and did the same with a smirk. Hannibal could still feel how shutdown his lover was and decided he’d talk to him before bed. 

Hannibal leaned against the bathroom door frame and looked at will in the mirror “So...Is the silent treatment your solution, Will?” He questioned while undoing his tie. Will was silent for a few beats before replying. “No, stealing all of your damn ties and hiding them around the house is my solution. I just happen to be brushing my teeth and deep in thought about how to kick your ass.” Will smirked and resumed brushing his teeth as his lover continued undressing. “You know, it was only one shirt. I’m sure you’ll steal one of mine as a replacement.” Hannibal walked up behind him and slowly wrapped his arms around his partners frame. “Hannibal. Dear. Darling. You stretched my shirt into a crop top. It’s rude. If I recall you have a saying about those who are rude.” He smirked and squeezed Will ever so slightly in his arms then lowering his voice stated “Are you planning to eat me, Will?” “Not with utensils.” Will teased. He spit then swished with mouthwash before turning around in Hannibal’s arms. “I’m alright, just tired...and you ruined one of my favorite shirts.” he teased “I just need to sleep it off.” he pulled Hannibal into a hug and felt his boyfriend kiss his neck. A muffled “Come to bed my sweet.” was the last full sentence uttered before they shuffled off to their bed.  

December 24th.

As Hannibal closed the oven after checking on his sugar cookies he heard a sigh. He could barely hide his smile for how his partner in crime was pouting around the apartment. The brunette was stringing the Christmas lights around the tree and huffing every few minutes. He watched as Will disappeared behind the tree and decided to give him some Christmas spirit. He quietly padded to their room while six wagging tails followed him, nearly blowing his cover. After a few minutes of putting together his surprise he collected two items from the bedroom closet then slid into the kitchen. Grabbing two sugar cookies from his first batch, the ones with snowmen on them, he led his troop of fuzzy step children into the family room.

As Will was hanging Hannibal’s ties around the tree he paused when presented with six fuzzy children wearing velvet red collars with little silver bells attached to them. “It seems you have resting Grinch face Will.” The shorter man grimaced and chuckled “Where did you even hear that?” Seeing that his plan is starting to work the blonde stepped a bit closer with his hands behind his back. “The younger detectives use slang around crime scenes. Possibly inappropriate but incredibly entertaining. I’ve also heard the term Velvet Daddy.” Will laughed out of surprise “Please NEVER say that again. Is this you apologizing?” Hannibal sheepishly took another step forward and softly put antlers attached to a headband onto Will’s head. “This is only the first part, the next piece of my apology comes tomorrow. But I thought you might indulge me and our children?” He pulled out his phone  “Take a Christmas card worthy photo with us?” He pulled Will in close and softly kissed his cheeks. “I could put a splatter of blood on our sweaters just for fun.” Will whispered just inches from the blondes lips. “A beautiful idea darling, but where would we get the blood?” Words could no longer be heard over their heartbeats becoming collectively louder. They kissed softly, Hannibal’s face held in Will's hands, while his hands were around the shorter mans back grabbing his shirt with a bit of urgency. 

A few jingles and an adorably loud whiny yawn made them laugh into the kiss. They let go of each other and got ready for the pictures, Hannibal put on a matching set of antlers, and Will got the picture timer set up then grabbed a few dog treats. They ended up laying on their stomachs on the floor with the dogs, the phone took three quick photos. In the first one they were all smiling at the camera while the two men held hands and the second was the same but now the men were looking at each other preparing for chaos. Right before the third was taken Will smiled, counted to three, and said “Go!”. They giggled when they saw the last photo, The children were looking up and even some mid jump as they scrambled to catch the treats the men threw into the air. 

“One more, just you and me?” Will rolled his eyes but held the camera up and was about to snap the picture when his lover shoved a sugar cookie into his mouth. His look of surprise deemed adorable next to Hannibal’s look of pure love and joy in a smile as he held one with a bite already taken out of it up next to him.  

December 25th.

Hannibal was the first to stir as Will unconsciously squeezed his hand. He stared at his person for a bit, just admiring how sweet and relaxed he looked as he slept. He rolled onto his stomach and partly onto Will. He started kissing up Will's side and then his chest, he paused briefly as a hand gently ran through his hair. “Good Morning. Did you sleep well?” Will raised an eyebrow as he remembered just how well the apology wound up going last night “Good Morning, Velvet Daddy.”  he giggled and pulled Hannibal up to kiss him “Yes I slept well, did you?” Hannibal whispered “I slept well, but call me Daddy again and I’ll make sure this night is sleepless.” Will bit Hannibal’s lip “Is that a threat or a promise?” Hannibal got inches from Will’s lips then put his hand around his throat. “Oh darling, It’s the most fun when it’s both.”

About an hour and a half later the two appeared downstairs to make breakfast. Will made coffee as Hannibal grabbed a Labrador sized present “I want you to open this one before we cook.” Will rolled his eyes lovingly “Before food, Hm? Must be good.” He shook it lightly then tore through the shinny red wrapping and opened the box to revel...another box wrapped in the same red wrapping paper. Will tilted his head at his lover but Hannibal just sipped his coffee with a big grin. He picked up the next box and tore the paper again to revel...yet another box. He could since where this was going but repeated the steps again to revel...another. fucking. box. This continued for about fifteen more boxes and will had now been doing this for ten minutes. The boxes were now medium small and he could hold them in both hands. He suspected there were about seven boxes left. He was off by two. 

It had now been fifteen minutes. By this point Will had chugged a cup and a half of coffee, was now sitting on the couch next to Hannibal, and the dogs had begun playing in the mountain of wrapping paper. He had finally reached the last box, wrapped in black matte paper with a metallic silver tag. Will beamed as he read the tag “Beloved.” and the noticed a small black heart at the end that was slightly smudged. He carefully unwrapped and opened the box. Sitting in a deep red velvet pocket was a beautiful pocket knife, the handle made of bone. Engraved on one side of the blade was Will and other side Hannibal . Will teared up a bit and chuckled as he quipped “If you eat me on Christmas, Who will tell the dogs you miss them when you’re at work?” Hannibal put the knife back in the box on the table then took Wills face in his hands “I’m not going to eat you Will, Well not with utensils anyway.” Will snorted as Hannibal smirked. “Our names are on both sides to symbolize we are two sides of the same coin, or knife in this case. We are the same. You are my Beloved.” 

Will kissed him hard and pulled him close. His nails dug into Hannibal’s sides claiming him as hard as the kiss. “Beloved, Huh? “ Hannibal nodded “Is it as good as Velvet Daddy?” Will laughed hard “PLEASE stop saying that.” “Maybe after Christmas?” Will blew out a puff of air “Finnee. Who gave you the box full of boxes idea?” Hannibal shook his head and scoffed “You’d kill them and me.” Will picked up the pocket knife and put the tip gently against Hannibal’s chest. “Would you like to go first?” Hannibal kissed him deeply and grabbed the knife

 “Where would the fun be in that?”

Happy Holidays Fanibals.