#wearing each other’s clothes IS cool and romantical but have you ever exchanged belts?

[acediaedeus]

I love, love, LOVE Kubo’s official art of Bleach and a thing I couldn’t help but notice is how similar grimmichi’s styles are, especially when it comes to accessories.

both of them wear a lot of rings and bracelets, chains all around (but those are more of an Ichigo thing, tbh, not a single outfit is complete without at least one chain for that mf), a lot of belts et cetera.

anyway, I just find the idea of them exchanging different accessories and wearing each other’s shit all the time very nice. they’re very far from ‘conventional’ when it comes to being a couple, so their ‘engagement rings’ (no one ever proposes, it’s just a given, they don’t have to ask to know) are a belt from Ichigo to Grimmjow and a chain for a belt from Grimm to Ichigo.

add some magical Kidou wtvr bullshit for those things to contain or be made of their reiryoku/reishi/reiatsu/idfk so they can feel each other when they’re apart (super sappy bs, but I bet Grimmjow especially would be into the idea). the things never come off, obviously. for Ichigo I thought about the chain being around his arm like post-Dangai training when he’s in Soul form and doesn’t have a belt to connect it to.

[sasorikigai]

Important OTP Questions (Send a ship to my ask box and some numbers!) || @reginaexitium || accepting

1) Who rocks the Ferris Wheel seat and who flips out and begs them to stop?

Kuai Liang totally rocks the Ferris Wheel seat, just to be flirtatious about the whole endeavor, and he wants to see if Kitana has fear of heights and will budge to his playfulness. Kitana doesn’t even bat an eyelash nor fears the height, either, but nevertheless appreciates the private intimacy that they can share in the confined space. 

2) Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, at any place and at any time?

Probably more Kitana than Kuai Liang. They both have images to uphold and they will be choosy and extremely careful and cautious to where they choose to have sex, but as long as it is private and intimate, with only them in the premise, they would just hit the green light all the time. 

3) Who is more into taking showers/baths together? Who tries to make it relaxing and who tries to make it sexy time?

Kitana, she loves to be indulged and would occasionally invite Kuai Liang for a shower or a bath. They both can be relentless when it comes to tantalizing each other in seduction, but it’s more often Kitana than Kuai Liang, due to the latter’s lack of experience. 

4) Who likes to walk around the house naked and who tells the other to go put some clothes on?

Neither, though I can see Kitana in the morning walking around her royal chamber naked, because she can and there’s only Kuai Liang to revel in her exquisite figure. 

5) Who sleeps on the couch when they get into a fight?

Neither, they are civil and courteous with each other, even if they get into a fight for some reason. They would always try to make up (it’s usually Kuai Liang apologizing because he hates the tension) and sleep on the same bed, regardless of how they feel about it. Kuai Liang considers this the most pivotal aspect of their relationship. 

6) Who takes photos of the other while they sleep?

If they both ever had a cell phone, then Kitana is more likely. She loves how the hard lines of his face loosens during his sleep. He somehow looks more like an innocent boy than a respected Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei in his forties/fifties. 

7) Who said “I love you” first? and who ends their arguments in a fight with “Because I love you”?

Kuai Liang / Kitana, respectively. While it would take him the longest to admit the feelings he used to accumulate and develop for her, he’s the one who took the initiative and said the words. Kitana could exhibit a bit of her temper, but she’s always regal and proper with her words. 

8) Who likes to wear the others sweatshirts?

Kitana often wears Kuai Liang’s pants, because 1) they are comfortable, 2) well-maintained, and 3) constructed with soft woolen-silk material that literally glides with each movement and they are warm. 

9) Who wakes the other up in the middle of the night to tell them a cool dream they had? Who has the most nightmares, and who sings them back to sleep after? 

Neither, they are very discreet while each other is sleeping and both are very patient, so that can wait after both of them are awake. Kuai Liang has more nightmares as his Tundra days, though frequencies of those are much seldom than they used to be. I can see Kitana humming something to Kuai Liang, but the latter has a wonderful singing voice and he will often utilize that not only to put her to sleep, but something entirely else as well. 

10) Who is more likely to cheat?

NEITHER. Relationship for them is sacred act and they do not take it lightly. Especially considering Kitana’s position and Kuai’s upheld mantle of Sub-Zero in place, such blasphemy is unacceptable. 

11) Who makes fun of the other for having a crush on them, and who has to remind them that they are in a relationship?

Neither / neither. They are too mature and proper to do that. 

12) Who starts a food fight in the kitchen?

Neither. Kitana doesn’t have to cook and Kuai Liang can’t cook. Why would they be in the kitchen of all the places in her Royal Palace or the Lin Kuei Temple?

13) Who initiates duets? and who is the better singer?

Neither, though they both can sing well. I’d like to think Kuai is better at it, but we’ll see. 

14) Who starts the hand holding? Who grabs the others butt? Who slides their arm around their waist? Who likes to put their fingers in the belt loops?

KITANA 

15) Who likes writes the others name on their wrist?

If this means tattooing, then no one. 

16) Who is more seductive when they are drunk? and who is louder in bed?

Kuai Liang, neither. Though they may moan and groan, they are relatively quiet, except in their heightened orgasms. 

17) Who is more protective?

Both in their endearing way. Perhaps Kitana in more subtle way, because she’s an Edenian who has been living for thousands of years, while Kuai can only live a mere fraction of that, even as a cryomancer. They both know they are well-equipped and trained to protect themselves and are known assassins in their respective realms, but they do have their moments. 

18) Who talks to the other while they are sleeping?

Perhaps Kitana, if Kuai Liang manages to get some shut-eye without his nightmares. 

19) Who drives and who has the window seat?

N/A. But if they did, Kuai Liang’s always the one who’s doing the driving. 

20) Who falls asleep in the others lap and who carries them to bed?

Let Kuai Liang carry Kitana to his bed. 

21) Who cuts the others hair?

Neither. 

22) Who is super bad at sexting? and who sends them encouraging messages throughout the day?

Both, for they do not use cell phones =P

23) Who thinks they are not good enough for the others love? and who’s more afraid of losing the other? Who thinks they keep messing up, only for the other to tell them they don’t need to worry?

Kuai Liang fears that he will lose Kitana because he could not keep his loved ones safe before (Smoke, Cyrax, Frost, Hanzo, etc.). Deep down, he feels that it’s his fault, and he wonders how Kitana can love someone like him, especially considering his past and the course of his tragic history, filled with loss and suffering. Kuai Liang has never been in a serious relationship and worries that he says the wrong thing or fails to pick up on romantic cues. 

24) Who starts random slow dancing with the other in the kitchen? Who holds the other just above the ground and kisses them?

Neither, they would quietly hold each other and just sway, taking in each other’s scent and their touch and them. Kitana loves holding Kuai Liang above her or sitting him on counters and kissing him.

25) Who says shitty puns and sex jokes just to see the other giggle and blush?

Kuai Liang.

26) Who kissed first?

I believe it was Kuai Liang, but my shit memory could be wrong. 

27) Who orders take out at two in a morning? and who wakes the other up at three in the morning to go downstairs with them to get a glass of water because it’s too dark?

Kitana and Kuai Liang vc. What are take outs? Kuai Liang often would get Kitana a glass of water if she needs it. 

28) Who writes poems/stories and love songs about the other? Do they sing the songs the write for them?

Does exchanges of letters count as poems and stories? They are discreet enough when they do, but they would include trinkets to hint who the sender is in their secretive ways. 

29) Who does some crazy stunt to try and impress the other and who ends up driving them to the emergency room after it backfires?

Neither, they are far from being reckless and immature. 

30) Who is embarrassed when they have to wear their glasses and who thinks they look super cute?

Kuai Liang occasionally has to wear reading glasses and hates them, especially in front of her and Kitana finds them cute on him. 

[hownottofindaboyfriend-blog]

Date Twenty One. Anna.

I’m having breakfast with a friend at Brickwood when I receive Mike’s Gif. It’s of a girl in a bikini sitting on somebody’s shoulders and dancing with what appears to be a giant inflatable penis. I don’t know how best to respond to a giant inflatable penis so promptly turn my phone off and continue my conversation with my friend about her boyfriend. She’s been with him for five years and is having some trouble with the fact that he keeps taking her on romantic getaways and vacations at ridiculously short notice. As much she asks him to pre-plan he refuses, so much so that she hardly as time to pack for the trip, let alone plan a bikini wax.

‘It’s very irritating,’ she tells me, munching on her kale. ‘Take last week for example. I hardly had time to cancel my spin class before we had to leave for the airport!’

I look at her and contemplate shoving my zucchini and sweet potato fritter in her eye. What I wouldn’t give for a guy to whisk me away to an exotic destination at a moment’s notice. If I ever do meet someone (emphasis on the ‘if’) I vow never to complain about last minute holidays abroad. I will welcome them with open arms and bask in the spontaneous sexiness of it all, not grumble over my kale salad and wish I was in an exercise class. Girls with boyfriends are as undeserving as the supremely wealthy. They have everything they could ever possibly want and need and still they feel the need to complain. I don’t understand it.

Later that evening I am at my Dad’s house. He’s hosting a BBQ for some family friends and has asked my brother and I to tag along. As I arrive at the house I feel uneasy. Several of the guests are family friends I haven’t seen since my graduation which means I’ll have to speak to them. Several others are new people I’ve never met before. Even worse.

When I do eventually put my plate down (heaped with chicken, steak, bacon and sausages because yes you need all four), my Dad tells me that I’ll be sat inside at the kids table, so I can supervise the kids whilst their parents get tipsy. I shrug like that’s no big deal and a fair trade for some BBQ’d chicken, but inside I’m rather indignant. How at the age of twenty six can I still be expected to be sat at the kids table? I pay taxes. I own a vibrator. What common ground am I going to find with a bunch of children?

I take a seat with caution, in between my brother and my Dad’s neighbour’s daughter, an annoyingly pretty girl with huge brown eyes and not an inch of cellulite on her seriously perfect legs. Most of the kids sat at the kids table are teeangers, which is even worse than sitting with kids. Kids are precocious but at least mildly comical. They can’t cut their food or pronounce certain words which isn’t exactly riveting entertainment but is at least comical. Teenagers on the other hand are moody and irrational. They smell and answer back and say stupid things because they’re angry. Making conversation with a teenager is a pain in the backside because everything they say to you comes with a dollop of sarcasm and pent up emotional anger. I decide I should at least attempt to make polite conversation with the girl next to me so that when my Dad asks me if I made an effort in exchange for my BBQ’d chicken I can at least provide a truthful yes. Any good host’s daughter would. So I take a bite of chicken and steak and bacon combo, and proceed.

‘So, um, Anna, what do you do?’

She looks at me and rolls her eyes. See? There it is. The unnecessary sarcasm. It’s dripping from her.

‘Well.. I’m about to start GCSE’s obviously.’

‘Right, of course. GCSE’s.’

I think back to the time when I had to do GCSE’s. I had curly hair then. I didn’t even own straighteners. I had braces. I was skinny. I had no boobs whatsoever (still don’t but I’ve made my piece with it.) I had a perverse insecurity about myself that wouldn’t even melt away when I was talking to my family members. I became anorexic. I stopped eating ice cream after dinner. I stopped eating pasta with cheese on it. If my mum made me a meal I threw it in the bin, determined as I was to exert control over every element of my culinary existence, to prove some sort of independence that I desperately felt I needed and at the same time was terrified to possess. See? Bloody pent up anger, it was probably dripping from me too back then.

I ask Anna what her and her friends talk about when they hang out. I mean, what sorts of things do teenagers discuss with each other these days? She looks at me and serves another eye roll.

‘Like, clothes. And school. And stuff.’

I ask her if she ever talks about boys.

‘Well, no. Like, we don’t have boyfriends. I’m only fourteen’

Well that’s good to know. Bloody good on you, Anna! Boys suck, way more than you’ll ever understand at your age. They have emotional issues so complex, Sigmund Freud cannot hope to unravel them. They have sexual inadequacies that will horrify you, hygiene issues that will disgust you and senses of humour and timing that will not only baffle you, it will probably scar you. (A guy once told me, drunk, that he found gang rape kind of funny. I never spoke to him again. I also changed the locks on my door.)

When I was fourteen years old, I had never kissed a boy. I’d never even so much as held hands with one. I’d tried to once at my friend Hannah’s Bat mitzvah but had got so nervous I’d chickened out at the last minute so that the hand that had been reaching out for his had sort of jerked out and then come in again over his body like a weird funky robot move performed by an acid tripper. He’d probably figured out what I’d been trying to do at that point and so had told me with sincerity that we probably shouldn’t hold hands, that he actually really fancied my friend and that he didn’t see us going out but that he would definitely add me on Bebo. I remember going home that night armed with the resolution that I was going to become a lesbian.  I didn't really know what a lesbian was but I’d seen First Wives Club and vividly remembered seeing a chunky female actress wearing a man’s tuxedo in a nightclub. At the time I’d thought ‘Oh okay, so being a lesbian is wearing guy’s clothes. Cool. This’ll be a piece of cake. Cool. Don’t need men, I’ll be a lesbian in guy’s clothes.’

I’d raided my Dad’s wardrobe for t-shirts and man’s belts. I think that phase lasted a day. The t-shirts were far too big. My lesbian faze might have kicked off more successfully if my Dad hadn’t worn XXL t-shirts.

I take Anna in. Her chipped nail polish. Her crimped hair. Her braces. Her cheap jewellery. I suddenly feel a pang of jealousy at the fact that she gets to exist in a world that doesn’t obsess over men or orgasms or commitment issues. She doesn’t have to worry about waxing, or coming across as too keen after a second date or whether she will die alone and have to move back in with her parents.

What had I talked about back in the days when I didn’t have men to talk about? The very thought of not having a guy to preoccupy my thinking time seems laughable.

I take out my phone and make a quick calculation. Since breaking up with my boyfriend five years ago I’ve been on approximately one hundred first dates. Of those one hundred, approximately fifty have worked out, ended in a good night kiss and a second meet up. Of those fifty, twenty five transpired into more than three dates. Of those twenty five ‘more than three date candidates’ I ended up properly dating ten of them. (And by properly dating I mean going on over and above ten dates.) Over five years. That is a success rate of ten per cent, meaning that for every hundred dates I have, ten of those are going to be of any use to me. (Or to put it more accurately, for every ten men I meet, one of them will be even slightly resembling a useful suitable companion.

An average (good) date lasts four to five hours. A bad date approximately forty minutes. Since breaking up with my boyfriend, I have had fifty crap dates, twenty five good ones and more than ten dates with over ten men.

Which means..... I’ve racked up a grand total of 670 hours going on dates.

That’s approximately one hundred and thirty four hours a year.

That’s.... 27 days.

That’s almost a month of my life spent on dates.

No wonder I’m broke. I mean, really, it’s no wonder I’m broke. It’s also no wonder that I have so little time to do any of the things I’ve ever really wanted to do. And no wonder I never actually achieve anything. These are small things of course but they’re things I want on my bucket list. Things like... learning to skateboard (it looks kind of cool, I always wanted to try it but I never have any free time. Now I know why.) Or learning how to make a tagine, properly, slow cooked and all. Or attempting to learn Chinese (I say attempting because almost everyone who sits down to learn Chinese gives up after approximately three weeks. I'm not saying that that’s an indication not to try but it’s certainly a reason to consider learning a different language.)

I also calculate the hours I obsess with every wrong relationship/break up/breakdown. I obsess about the date and what went wrong. I mull over the situations with girlfriends. I send my mum self-pitying emails about the topic until she is forced to call me in the middle of the night from Hong Kong (stupid time difference doesn’t lend itself to heartbreak) and tell me that things will be fine, that I won’t die alone, that I’ll meet someone nice and appropriate when I least expect it. Usually the obsessing time lasts longer than the actual dating time which means I’ve probably given up near on a thousand hours of my life thinking about or talking about or obsessing about the opposite sex

So I decide to make a rather serious and controversial decision.

I’m not going to date any more men. I’m not going to think about anymore men. I’m not going to do anything revolving around men. At all. And I mean, at all. Nothing. Nada. Not until I've dedicated enough time to my only self development and self esteem and done the things I want to do for myself. First I need to tick a few things off my bucket list. And get a grip on the sort of person I want to be.

On the way home I receive another message from Mike. It’s a photo of him on a lilo drinking beer. I delete the message and then his number. I don’t have time to be looking at his glorious holiday snaps. I have 670 hours of my life to make up for after all.