#Museum of Material Memory

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[rwpohl]

the memory about you, tv series 2021

[kathaelipwse]

The Bang Chan Husband Files | Headcanons

Warnings: Soft!Chan | Domestic fluff | Mild smut references | Overwhelming emotional support | Possible delusions of the perfect man | MDNI Trope: Husband Material™ | Soft Dom!Chan | Acts of Service + Touch Love Language | Overprotective but Gentle | Golden Retriever x Guard Dog hybrid energy

Dates

Thoughtful to the Core: Bang Chan doesn’t just take you on dates—he curates experiences. A picnic with your favorite snacks, a playlist he made just for the mood, fairy lights, and heartfelt conversation is his idea of perfect. Quality Time Lover: He values genuine connection. Watching your favorite movies with takeout and tangled limbs on the couch is his love language. Memory Maker: Keeps old movie tickets, dried flowers, and Polaroids in a memory box. Every anniversary, he shows you how far you’ve come. Surprise Artist: Plans spontaneous bookstore or museum dates where he pretends to be clueless but clearly researched the exhibits beforehand. Homebody at Heart (But For You, He’ll Step Out): Prefers quiet moments at home, but if you want a night out, he puts in effort—clean button-up, styled hair, hand always in yours. Says the Cutest Things: On casual dates, he’ll blurt things like: “I could do this forever with you. This—us.”

Protective

Silent Guardian Energy: He doesn’t need to say much—his stance, his gaze, and the way he subtly moves closer when someone makes you uncomfortable say it all. The “Step-Forward” Move: Whenever you're walking in a crowded place, he gently shifts his body in front of you to shield you, especially from pushy people or stares. Mild Jealousy, Major Control: If someone flirts, he won’t cause a scene. Just leans down and whispers, “Remind me later that you’re mine, yeah?” with that low, playful voice. Always Prepared: Makes you share your location for your safety, and if you don’t respond after a while, he calls—not to scold, but because he’s scared something happened. Protects You From Yourself Too: If you’re overthinking, insecure, or spiraling, he’ll stop everything and say, “You don’t get to talk about someone I love like that.” Gentle Shield: When things overwhelm you, he wraps his arms around you and says, “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Love Language: Acts of Service + Physical Touch

Acts of Service King: He notices the little things you hate doing—laundry, trash, bills—and does them before you can even ask. Fix-It Husband™: Will spend hours figuring out how to assemble something just to make your life easier. You’re always his priority. Can’t Keep His Hands to Himself: Always touching you—thigh squeezes, back rubs while you're cooking, brushing hair from your face. Sleeping Entangled: You wake up with his legs wrapped around yours, his face buried in your neck, and arms locked around your waist. Small, Sweet Gestures: Tucks your hair behind your ear, zips your dress, ties your laces, and kisses your temple like second nature. Handwritten Notes Guy: Leaves sticky notes in your lunch, on your laptop, on the mirror— “You’re stronger than you feel.” “Drink water or I’ll fight you.”

In Fights

When He’s Wrong: Withdraws Out of Guilt: Becomes quiet, not defensive. Hates that he hurt you, even unintentionally. Self-Reflects First: Gives you space so he can cool down, then comes back with a calm, genuine apology. Full Accountability: “You didn’t deserve that. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll do better, I promise.” Physical Apology: Offers a hug—not to escape consequences, but because he needs to feel close while fixing things. Words + Actions: Follows through on change. If the fight was about time, he makes time. If it was about communication, he listens better. Won’t Let You Go to Bed Upset: Even if it’s late, he’ll sit beside you, pinky out, whispering, “I love you. Let’s not sleep angry.” When You’re Wrong: Stays Calm: Doesn’t raise his voice. Just gets quiet and sad, which somehow hurts more. Still Respects You: Doesn’t insult or belittle. Instead, he says things like, “You know I love you, right? But that wasn’t okay.” Clear Boundaries: Tells you how it affected him—but never guilt-trips you. Waits for Your Growth: Won’t rush your apology but also won’t pretend nothing happened. Mature and grounded. Forgives Fully: Once it’s resolved, he doesn’t bring it up again. The past stays in the past. Reaffirms Love: Even in tension, you’ll hear: “I’m still yours. We’re okay, alright?”

Overworking

Workaholic Habits: Gets lost in producing, mixing, fixing—time vanishes until you show up like: “Chris. Have you eaten?” You = His Break Reminder: You have to pry him away with kisses or a snack in your hand, and he’ll act grumpy but follow you. Acts Tough, Is Mush: Once you get him on the couch, he immediately melts into you. Whispers, “You’re the only thing that can stop me, you know that?” When YOU Overwork: He notices. Instantly. Pulls you onto his lap, shuts your laptop, and tells you: “You can’t take care of everything if you burn out. Let me take care of you now.” Midnight Caregiver: If you’re working late, he’ll show up with a drink and rub your shoulders until you give in. Reluctantly Accepts Balance: Tries hard to make time for both his passion and you—because he knows you are his home.

Hypeman

Loudest Cheerleader: Doesn’t matter if you baked bread or landed a promotion—he hypes you like you just won an Oscar. Physical Praise Too: Sees you all dressed up and nearly drops whatever he’s holding: “You can’t be real. I married a goddess.” Social Media Stan: Posts blurry selfies with captions like: “She made me breakfast today. Wife material. Don’t be jealous.” Random Affection Attacks: Walks in, sees you doing dishes, and just hugs you from behind saying, “How are you so amazing all the time?” Annoyingly Obsessed (In the Best Way): Constantly brags about you to the members, staff, strangers. “My wife’s smarter than me. I’m not even ashamed.” Genuinely Inspired by You: Sees you chasing dreams and says, “You make me want to be better. Just by being you.”

In the Bedroom~

King of Build-Up: It always starts slow. Teasing touches, whispered praise, the kind of eye contact that sets your skin on fire. He savors the tension before he breaks it. Voice Gets Deep, Dirty, & Dangerous: When things heat up, his voice drops to a sinful growl—thick with that Aussie accent as he breathes, “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.” Dom But Tender: He’s in control, but not rough unless you want him to be. Holds your wrists gently. His commands sound like worship: “Let me take care of you. Just relax for me, baby.” Obsessed With Your Pleasure: He memorizes what you like, down to the sound you make when he kisses just below your ear. He’s not done until you're shaking and breathless. Eye Contact Demon: Doesn’t look away. He watches every reaction, chases it. And if you close your eyes? “Nah, don’t hide from me. Look at me when you fall apart.” Aftercare Legend: Warm towel. Water. Cuddles. He tucks you into his chest and strokes your hair, whispering, “You did so good. I’ve got you now, angel.”

When You’re on Your Period

Fully Trained, Zero Shame: He’s got the cycle tracked, your cravings memorized, and your go-to comfort movie queued up. “It’s day two, right? I made you soup and cleared the couch.” Zero Ick Factor: Buys pads and tampons without blinking. Talks about cramps and blood like it’s no big deal because it isn’t. “It’s your body being a badass. I respect that.” Snuggle Sandwich Mode: He sandwiches you between pillows and himself, rubbing your belly while muttering sweet things like, “If I could take the pain for you, I would.” On Call for Cravings: Midnight store runs? Done. Heating pad short-circuited? Already replaced. He stocks your favorite snacks before you even realize you want them. Comfort > Everything: Wraps you in his hoodie, tucks a blanket around you, and presses kisses to your temple like medicine. “Let’s just be soft today, baby.” Emotional Anchor: If your emotions spike or you start crying for no reason, he doesn’t flinch. “You don’t have to explain. I’m here. Just cry, I’ll hold you.”

Cooking (He Tries)

Effort 100%, Skill 60%: He watches cooking TikToks like they’re tutorials—but somehow always forgets something important like salt... or timing. Kitchen Chaos King: Expect mess. Flour on his cheeks, three pans going at once, and him muttering, “Why is it burning? I just looked away for two seconds!” Minho = Lifeline: Minho is his emergency contact during culinary crises. “Bro, she’s gonna wake up and the eggs are still moving. Help me.” Plates Like a Masterchef Contestant: No matter how it turns out, he garnishes with herbs, arranges the food perfectly, and says, “Bon appétit, my queen.” Needs Validation Desperately: He watches you chew like his life depends on it. “Do you hate it? Is it edible? Be honest. No, wait—lie to me. Just say it’s amazing.” Laughter Over Perfection: Even if the food’s mid, the love behind it makes it the best meal ever. And when you laugh at his mess, he grins and says, “Hey, at least I made you smile, yeah?”

When He’s Jealous

Silent but Deadly™ Jealousy: He doesn’t lash out—he broods. His jaw clenches, he goes quiet, and suddenly he’s glued to your side with his arm tight around your waist. Subtle Territorial Moves: Starts calling you “baby” louder than usual. Leans in to whisper things like, “You’re mine, yeah? Just so we’re clear.”—right when someone’s clearly checking you out. Polite but Frosty to the Offender™: He won’t be rude… unless the other guy really pushes. Then it’s a low-toned, “You need something, mate?” with the faintest smile and the darkest eyes. Pulls You Close Later: At home, he’ll kiss your shoulder and mutter, “I know it’s dumb, but I hate the idea of someone else looking at you like I do.” Jealous, Then Insecure: The moment fades and guilt kicks in. “You’re with me… but sometimes I wonder if you could do better.” Cue you reassuring him for 10 straight minutes. Jealousy-Fueled Spiciness™: …And then he kisses you like he’s proving something. “Mine. Say it.” (You're not complaining.)

When You Have Random Baby Fever

Soft Panic + Adoration™: The second you say “That baby is so cute,” he chokes on air and gives you a side glance like, “Wait. Are we doing this? Now?” Sudden Overthinking Mode: “Okay but… what if the kid gets your stubbornness and my insomnia? That’s chaos in a diaper.” Would Still Be the Best Dad™: Even while fake-panicking, he’s already imagining your future kid curled up on his chest. “Imagine if they had your eyes though… damn. I’m doomed.” Soft Daydreaming Moments: If he sees you holding a baby? He melts. Later whispers, “You’d be such a good mom. Like… you already take care of me.” Baby Fever Hits Him Too: One random night while brushing his teeth, he mumbles, “So… what if we had two? A girl and a boy?” Like sir. Calm down. “Practice” Time: “Wanna practice being a parent? Starting with… bedtime?” —And suddenly you forget about the baby and remember why Chan needs supervision.

Gaming Nights with the Boys (When You Call)

Hyper-Focused Gamer Mode: Headset on, yelling at Changbin about a grenade throw, fully immersed—until he sees your name light up his phone. Instant Soft Switch™: “Yo, pause—she’s calling.” Drops the controller mid-match just to answer with, “Hey, baby. You okay?” “Y/N Gets Priority” Rule: If it’s not an emergency but you want cuddles or food, he’s already logging off. “The game’ll be here tomorrow. She won’t sleep without me.” Boys Clown Him, But Respect It: Seungmin: “Whipped.” Chan: “Yeah. And?” Sneaks You Into the Headset: He’ll say, “Wanna say hi to the guys?” and hold the mic up for you. The boys greet you like you’re part of the crew already. Post-Game Snuggles Required: As soon as he’s off, he beelines to you on the couch, wraps his arms around you, and mumbles, “Missed you. Even if it was just two hours.”

Sick!Reader (Bang Chan as Caregiver)

Immediately Takes Over: The moment he hears you’re not feeling well, Chan’s brain switches into “nurturing mode.” He’s dropping everything—work, plans, socializing. You come first. “I’m canceling everything. You’re more important than any meeting.” The Ultimate Comforter™: Chan will text you all day long to check in. If you’re running a fever, he’ll cool down your skin with a cold compress, gently rubbing your temples and whispering, “You’re gonna be okay, baby. I’m right here.” Spoiling You with Comfort Food: He’s in the kitchen, whipping up soup (which is admittedly a bit burnt, but made with so much care). “I made this for you, baby. It’s not Michelin star, but it’s full of love.” Guilt Trip Chan™: If you try to say you’re okay when you’re clearly not, he gets a little pouty. “Baby, I told you to rest. You’re going to make me worry even more if you keep getting up like this.” He’ll gently push you back onto the couch, ready to pamper you some more. Cuddles & Rest: When you need sleep, he’s there, either lying with you or making sure you’re cozy. “I’m gonna stay here. You can sleep, and I’ll be right by your side.” He’s a giant teddy bear, making sure you’re not alone. He might even nap with you. “Tell Me What You Need” Mode: If you feel guilty for being “a burden,” he’ll reassure you with, “You’re never a burden. I love taking care of you. You’re my everything.” Even if he’s secretly a little tired, his focus is entirely on you and your recovery.

Anniversaries with Bang Chan

Memory Keeper™: For your anniversary, he remembers every little detail. He’ll bring up your first date, the first time you held hands, and how the two of you grew together. “You remember that day we stayed up all night talking? I’ll never forget that.” Romantic Surprise Planner: Chan doesn’t just get you flowers. He surprises you with a carefully planned day, like a picnic at your favorite park or a movie marathon of all the films you’ve talked about watching together. “I got the perfect spot ready. Thought we’d watch the sunset first.” Gifts with Meaning: He’s not the type to just buy a gift off the shelf. Everything he gets you has meaning. A necklace? It has a charm that represents a moment you both shared. A book? It's something you both love or something that holds sentimental value. “This is from the day we... It’s just a little reminder that every moment with you counts.” Sweet Love Notes: Chan’s a sucker for writing handwritten notes or love letters on anniversaries. He’ll leave them where you’ll find them—tucked in your bag, under your pillow, in your favorite book. “For every year, for every moment. I’ll love you more each day.” Anniversary “Us” Time: He loves nothing more than a quiet, intimate day with you. Even if the world is chaotic around you, he cherishes these peaceful moments with just the two of you. “No need to make it extravagant. Just you, me, and a whole lot of love.” Anniversary Reflections: Chan’s the type to reflect deeply on the year, especially when it comes to your relationship. At the end of the day, he’ll pull you close, whisper, “Look at how far we’ve come. I can’t wait to see what the next year holds for us.”

Jealous!Reader (Chan's Response to His "Jealous" Reader)

Instant Reassurance™: When you show signs of jealousy—whether it’s through an offhand comment or by getting possessive—Chan’s first instinct is to reassure you, showering you with affection. “You don’t have to worry about anyone but you. You’re the one I want. Always.” He’ll emphasize that your place in his life is irreplaceable. Gentle Confidence: Even if he sees you feeling a little insecure, he won’t let you feel inferior. He’ll gently touch your cheek, make eye contact, and say something sweet like, “I only have eyes for you. No one could ever compare to you, no matter what.” Playful Jealousy Back™: If he notices you getting jealous, he’ll tease you—flirting even more, giving you a taste of your own medicine. He’ll act like he’s enjoying the attention, just to make you a little crazy. “Oh, you want to fight for me? I guess I am pretty irresistible.” But it’s all in good fun, just to remind you that he’s the one who gets to claim your attention. Exclusively Yours™: He has no problem showing the world who you belong to. Whether it’s holding your hand in public or showing affection in front of others, Chan’s constant gestures say: “Yeah, she’s mine. And I’m proud of it.” Jealous? He’ll Handle It. If someone really crosses the line with you, Chan steps up in a way that’s both protective and respectful. “Hey, you got a problem with her? Take it up with me.” He won’t let anyone disrespect you, no matter how big or small the offense. Post-Jealousy Cuddles: After any jealousy moment, he’ll always come back to you with an extra dose of affection. He’ll cuddle you, whispering into your ear, “You’re all I want, baby. No one else comes close.”

When He’s Flirty

Innuendo Master™: Chan is full of playful comments that make you blush, like, “I’d say I’m not the jealous type… but if I was, you’d be the only one I’d be jealous of.” Teasing Touches: His hands are always close—resting on your lower back, brushing against your arm, or gently tugging you closer whenever you’re talking to someone else. The Whisper Game™: He’ll lean in close when you’re out in public and whisper something flirtatious in your ear, “You look so good, I might just have to take you home early.” His voice drops to that low, smooth tone that leaves you blushing. Proud Smirks: Whenever he catches you looking at him, he’ll send you a knowing, playful look, as if saying, “I know you’re thinking about me.” Subtle Challenges™: He’ll challenge you to make him blush or make him lose his cool, but deep down, he loves watching you try.

When the reader turns Chan on while he's away on tour~

Sultry Voice Notes™ While he’s away, you send him voice notes that are full of playful teasing and hints. You’ll whisper something like, “I miss you so much… I wish you were here to kiss me right now…” The low tone of your voice and the suggestiveness leave him desperately trying to keep his composure, especially during interviews or rehearsals. Spicy Texts™ You know just how to get under his skin—sending him texts with cheeky comments like, “I bet I’d look good on my knees for you right now…” or “I’ve been imagining how you’ll hold me when you get back…” The words hit him like a punch to the gut, making his thoughts drift away from his setlist or the choreography. He’ll be left biting his lip, trying not to blush when he reads them during breaks. Teasing Photos™ While he’s stuck in a hotel room or on the tour bus, you send him a photo of yourself in something that drives him wild—maybe it’s something you know he loves you in, like a cute but revealing outfit or you lying on the bed in your lingerie. He can’t stop staring at it, fighting the urge to touch himself while he's stuck on tour. “You know what you do to me, right?” he’ll text back, trying to focus on his performance but clearly distracted. Subtle Flirty Videos™ You send him a video of yourself, maybe something simple like you cooking dinner or getting dressed for the day, but you make sure to be extra flirty. A slow motion walk past the camera, a wink, or the way you bite your lip in the middle of your sentence will completely mess with his focus. He’ll be replaying that video on loop, trying to hide his reactions from the other guys. Erotic Daydreaming™ During an off-day or in-between interviews, you know exactly how to turn him on. You send a message saying, “I’ve been thinking about what I want to do to you when you get home… I can’t wait to have you in my arms and show you just how much I missed you…” It’ll catch him off-guard, making his heart race, palms sweat, and thoughts go straight to how he wants to have you when he returns. The Promise of What’s to Come™ You’ll make playful, suggestive promises like, “I’ll let you make up for all the teasing when you get home…” knowing how badly he’ll want to make those words come to life. It’s not just what you’re saying—it’s the anticipation of finally being alone together again. When he reads those texts, he can’t help but imagine all the ways he’ll take control once he's back with you.

-- The End --

[writingunderneathawillow]

second base

part 1 here content warnings: angsty, undercover mission, mutual pining, bucky being the standard (chivalry is not dead as long as that man lives and he is immortal to me), canon typical violence (gunshots, BUT neither at Bucky nor you) word count: 1.9k a/n: due to popular demand (hehehe i’m so proud and grateful to say this) i’ve written a 2nd part :)

Bucky’s hand rested on your thigh, the velvet material of your dress keeping you from going fully insane at his touch. The warmth that spread from his fingers seeped through your skin straight into your veins and it was as if Bucky’s essence was transported to your heart. You didn’t dare shift, didn’t want to prompt him to move his hand in any way. His taste still lingered in your mouth, the fluttering sensation of his beard brushing up against you was practically printed into your memory as you held your breath, fearing that exhaling would take away the ghosts of the kiss you had shared. To say that your brain was wrecked after what had happened in your room was an understatement. There was not a single clear train of thought currently happening in your head and it killed you. What was that kiss? Did he do it do calm you down? To prepare you? To shut you up? Or, and you much preferred that version, did he do it because there was even the tiniest spark of affection for you in him?

Only seconds away from spiralling, you were glad when the car came to a halt in front of an incredibly boring building.

It was an art museum, specialising in glass and laser artworks, but it looked like some kind of futuristic blob of cement with strangely placed windows.

Bucky also evaluated the place where the gala, that you were going to attend as Mr and Mrs Alderton, was held with a displeased look. Unlike you however, it wasn’t the architecture style that he was scrutinizing but much rather the lack of emergency exits – just in case the two of you would have to make a quick getaway in the course of the evening.

Still he smiled at you, and opened his door, making sure to reach your side of the car within milliseconds to extend a hand to you.

Now, Bucky was born a gentleman. Opening doors came to him like second nature, same as offering up his seat for anyone in need and just general good manners.

While you were well aware that it was mainly due to his upbringing a couple decades ago, you still basked in his chivalry.

With a grateful smile your hand met his and he helped you out of the car, hovering in front of you as you fixed your dress quickly.

When you were finished with readjusting the fabric, he held out his arm and you took a deep breath before you accepted. Despite the heavy material of his suit jacket and pressed shirt, you still felt his muscles flex as he guided you towards the entry way of the museum where a young man with a tablet stood.

“Good evening, sir,” he greeted Bucky and nodded to you, “Ma’am.”

The doorman’s gaze wandered over both of you expectantly and Bucky seemed to spring to action.

“Thomas and Gabriela Alderton,” he introduced your made-up personalities with a stern voice, one that was so similar to his own but somehow still differentiated.

It gave you light goosebumps, the words stricken with authority. He played his part of the wealthy, borderline aristocratic, man very well.

“Ah, welcome Mr and Mrs Alderton,” the doorman continued after quickly checking the guest list.

“Do enjoy yourselves,” he said and stepped aside to let the two of you pass with a subservient smile.

The inside of the building was objectively speaking even uglier than the outside. Thick, grey walls that swallowed the last bits of natural light from outside, imposed and cornered you in.

The lack of windows was incredibly unnerving, along with the fluorescent lighting that was just a tinge too bright.

With long strides, which you found hard to match, Bucky led you towards the sound of people. Bustling crowds, ostentatious conversations and flashy coloured dresses drenched your senses in overstimulation as two guards opened the door to the main area for the two of you.

The abrupt onslaught on your eyes and ears was countered by Bucky’s warmth at your side. Something about the way you could feel his chest expand every single time he breathed out seemed to ground you.

He grabbed two glasses of champagne from a server who walked by and passed you one. The cold crystal calmed your nerves just as much as the first sip of the bubbling liquid.

“Don’t quit breathin’ on me, yeah?” Bucky murmured into your ear. To an outsider, it might have looked like a husband whispering sweet nothings to his wife, but his words buried themselves supportively into your heart and you nodded.

You didn’t know how else to answer him. The concern was palpable despite the quietness of his tone, and it melted your heart.

Part of you wished that he hadn’t kissed you. Maybe it would have made it easier to be in his proximity if you couldn’t distinguish the exact taste of his mouth, but that clearly wasn’t an option anymore.

You were not going to freak out.

To prove exactly that to both yourself and Bucky, you chuckled as if he had made a flirty joke, playing the part of his doting wife well.

He gave your arm a soft squeeze and led you further into the mass of people.

You spent the night doing exactly what you were here for: making connections and listening for traces of rumours about illegal weapon trafficking.

Reports of stolen guns and ammunition had made their way to your desks not too long ago. But not just any kind of guns and ammunition; it was alleged alien tech, originally stored by S.H.I.E.L.D. years ago at’ the Fridge’, and when it had been stolen, a whole lot of hell had broken loose. Which is why even the faintest of whispers about it possibly being sold and moved, had caught your attention and why you and Bucky were here in the first place.

At some point throughout the evening, the two of you attempted a new tactic: you separated.

Bucky made his way to a poker table that had been set up in the middle of the room; the seats were all occupied by men – rich men if you could trust their appearances. Your pretend husband melted into their ranks within seconds, and once again, you were surprised by how well he fit in with them.

Of course he was shamelessly good looking, but whenever you saw him, he was just Bucky. Bucky, who left his cups on the kitchen sink at the compound instead of putting them into the dishwasher; Bucky, who showered so hot that the air conditioning had to put up a fight; Bucky, who wore worn out jeans and second-hand hoodies.

But dressed in his expensive suit and surrounded by some of the richest men in the United States, he blended in like a chameleon.

Not that you were doing a poor job. You flashed bright smiles, gossiped with wives about your pretend horses and yachts, and recommended skin serums with genuine gold flakes (you had looked up the specific product to have something to talk about two days ago) to anybody who asked. In fact, you were so emersed in your role that you almost missed the shift in the air. The panicked whispers and the entrance of security guards might have slipped past you if you hadn’t felt a burning stare in your neck. When you moved your head, you locked eyes with Bucky and saw the way his jaw locked. He tipped his head ever so lightly towards the left, and you immediately understood the signal. With long but casual strides you made your way towards him, an easy smile plastered across your face. Every step towards him let your heart beat faster, every inch closer to him heightened your anxiety as it became easier to make out the hint of panic in his eyes. “Are we made?” You asked as you reached him, your voice so quiet that only he could hear you. He shook his head and another one of his fake laid-back smirks decorated his face as he looked at you. “They’re nervous,” he whispered and shifted slightly so that you could peer past his shoulder to the men he had conversed with just minutes ago. They were muttering among each other, their calm facades disrupted by the air of mistrust that hung above them like a cloud. “But they don’t know about us?” You demanded, making sure to keep your voice soft and smiled at him sweetly, just in case anyone was close enough to overhear. “Not as far as I can tell,” he clarified and ran a hand over your arm. You knew the gesture was to keep up appearances, but it was hard to remind yourself of that when it felt so good. However, the impending doom of potentially being figured out within the next few seconds kept your mind sharp. You were just about to ask Bucky what his plan was when chaos erupted. A woman, just a few feet away, screamed when the security guards made their way through the crowds, weapons loaded and pointed. At the sound of distress, you grabbed Bucky’s metal arm and pulled him forward. Farther, anywhere where both of you were out of danger, that is where you wanted him to be. You couldn’t even make out who the guards were heading for as people started fleeing. Someone ran into your side, almost knocking you out of your heels but Bucky steadied you and made sure you stayed at his side as he shoved you towards one of the doors. The empty hallway, that greeted you as Bucky pushed you through the door, was quiet and badly lit. There was no question that this area was off-limits for guests. But the first shot rang through the air, so whether you were allowed to be here or not was not your current concern. Bucky walked behind you, his large figure covering you, as his eyes darted around, looking for any way out of here. There was an inconspicuous door just a couple of feet away and he headed straight for it, keeping you in front of him. He grabbed the door handle, twisted and it gave in. With a last glance backwards, he put his hands on your hips and guided you into the room. Another gunshot sounded, and panic practically poured out of Bucky as he slammed the door shut behind him and only then did you realise that this was not an exit. This was a closet. A tiny one at that. Whether it was the alarm that Bucky felt or the adrenaline flushing his system, he lost his balance and tumbled right into you, hands stretched out to catch himself. But instead of stabilising himself on one of the shelves in the small room, he made contact with you. Or much rather, your breasts. His weight pushed you into the furthest wall as you somehow managed to catch both of your falls. Despite the dim lighting in the closet, you could make out Bucky’s eyes – wide with horror and embarrassment and even though you were quite literally in a life or death situation, you couldn’t bite back the comment that immediately came to you: “Guess you’re also going for second base tonight.”

thank you for reading :) gentle reminder that likes are more than appreciated but comments and reblogs make the dream work

[curatedbyondrea]

How to bring *luxury* into your life while on a budget

Luxury on a budget is absolutely achievable! It's about focusing on creating an experience of indulgence and pampering, rather than just expensive things. Here are some ideas:

Redefine Luxury for You:

Focus on Experiences: Luxury isn't just material possessions. Think about what makes you feel truly pampered and relaxed. Is it a long, candlelit bath with a good book? A picnic in a scenic spot? Prioritize experiences that create lasting memories.

Quality over Quantity: Invest in a few key items you'll love and use for years, rather than buying a lot of cheap things. This could be anything from a luxurious body lotion to a cozy throw blanket.

Create a Luxurious Atmosphere at Home:

Declutter and Deep Clean: A clean and organized space instantly feels more luxurious. Light some scented candles, put on some calming music, and dim the lights for a spa-like atmosphere.

DIY Spa Treatments: Skip the expensive spa and recreate the experience at home. Give yourself a foot massage with homemade sugar scrub, use a facial mask made with natural ingredients, or draw a relaxing bath with essential oils.

Elevate Everyday Activities: Take the time to savor a cup of tea in the morning. Set the table for dinner with nice plates and silverware, even if it's just a simple meal.

Seek Out Free or Low-Cost Luxuries:

Embrace Nature: Take a hike in a beautiful park, have a picnic by the beach, or simply sit outside and enjoy the fresh air. Nature is a free and luxurious way to de-stress and reconnect.

Cultural Gems: Many museums and galleries offer free or discounted admission days. Check your local library for free museum passes or online resources for virtual tours of famous collections.

Learn a New Skill: Taking a free online class in something that interests you, like photography or cooking, can be a stimulating and luxurious way to spend your time.

Remember: Luxury is about feeling good and taking care of yourself. By being creative and resourceful, you can incorporate these elements into your life, regardless of your budget.

[baronessvonglitter]

Strawberry Swirl

Joel Miller x fem!reader | WC: 1.9K

Summary: Joel fucks you on a Ferris wheel. That is the fic.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Established relationship. Public/semi-public sex. Grinding. Unprotected piv. Ice cream as foreplay, can I get a hell yeah. Dirty talk. Pet names. Nearly getting caught. Reader wears a dress and lip gloss but is otherwise minimally described. Please lmk if I have missed anything!

A/n: Hi, my name is Adriana, and when I was on a school trip to Washington DC I got lost at the Smithsonian Museum.

So here's the fic! It was born of my frenzied Pinterest scrolling one night. Absolute porn without plot but that's what you're here for, you naughty thing!

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

Joel's in a bind.

All night you've been teasing him in that little sundress. The breeze on the midway is blowing the hem of your skirt up, taunting him with a glimpse of your thighs and just a peek of your round ass, lacy panties barely covering it. 

Tease, he thinks, saliva pooling in his mouth as you skip ahead in front of him, shouting something over your shoulder over the din of the carnival. That glint in your eye is so mischievous. You have to know what effect you're having on him. You enjoy teasing him out in public, knowing he can't do a damn thing about the tent he's pitching in his jeans. 

His grip on your hand tightens, just enough to keep you at his side. It's not only his eyes that are drawn to your scandalously short dress. He's noticing others.. guys your age, openly gawking at how good you look, and men his own age, which enrages him even more. He knows exactly what kinds of perverted thoughts are growing in their brains right now. When they go home tonight they're gonna stroke their dicks to this memory of you, carefree and laughing as the breeze blows up your skirt. You look like a goddamn fantasy..

..a fantasy just out of his reach. All night you've made him go on these ridiculous rides with you. He spun with you on the Tilt-o-Whirl until he thought he would be sick, and he's pretty sure his knees and hips are going to be out of joint tomorrow from the number of times you made him go on the bumper cars with you. In short, he's done everything you want, as you stayed just out of reach of his grabby hands.

"Ice cream!" you shout at him, looping your arm through his. Leaning on his shoulder, you give him the puppy dog eyes you know he can't deny. He smiles as the carnival lights reflect in your irises. The rich humidity of the night is creeping in, giving a nice sheen to your skin and your baby hairs stick to your temples.

"What kind you want, baby girl?" he gives in.

Content with your strawberry-vanilla swirl ice cream cone, Joel watches you eagerly lap up the sweet treat, your tongue scooping up the pink and white dessert, your eyes focused on him as you offer a sassy little smile. You just know what that does to him. The tent he's been pitching all night is only getting bigger.

"Better be careful, darlin'. You're givin' this old man some ideas.." he growls in your ear, grabbing you by the waist as you lead him to another godforsaken ride. He's not sure he'll survive another go on the Gravitron, or the Zipper.

"Relax, daddy," you whisper your pet name to him, lips barely caressing his ear lobe. "I'm thinking something more calm, something peaceful so I can eat my ice cream."

You lead him to the line for the Ferris wheel, a towering ride bedecked in pink lights. Of course you'd choose something so girly as this one, Joel thinks to himself, a smile on his lips as he strokes your hair, standing behind you in line.

As the line grows behind you he presses close, his arms around you, taking a lick of your ice cream when you offer and sneaking more when you're not looking. Your body is so soft, the material of your dress practically sheer. By now you have to know he's hard, up close against you, his bulge against your lower back. He rubs against you discreetly, desiring to ease the ache buliding up in his balls.

"Joel.." you softly chastise, pressing back against him. He nips at your ear as you lean back on his chest. "Just wait til I get you alone up there.."

The line moves smoothly enough for a Saturday night. Soon you're seated in number 3, a pink gondola with plastic door and umbrella overhead. Joel leads you in and you sit right next to him, giggling and leaning into him as your pod jolts forward so others can be filled. You rest your head on his shoulder, taking in the scent of him on his flannel shirt.

"You enjoyin' yourself?" he asks, wrapping his arm around you. You look up at him, the breeze whipping his graying curls. Wrinkles line his eyes, more pronounced when he smiles, and you press a kiss to his scruffy cheek then one to his soft lips.

"I think we both could be having more fun.."

He frowns, wondering what other fresh hell you have in store for him. "Please, not the fuckin' carousel. I'm not sittin' on one of those painted ponies and goin' round in circles, baby girl."

Your pretty little chuckle is what makes him realize he's guessed wrong. "I've got a different kind of ride in mind," you whisper, stroking his hard cock over his jeans as you innocently lick your ice cream. 

"Baby girl, what kinda naughty thoughts you got in that pretty head of yours?"

You respond with a kiss, your tongue cold and sweet from the ice cream as it meets his, teases his own tongue so it flits into your mouth, his groan humming against your lips.

You pull away and seat yourself on his lap, perched just on his knees as you lean forward, giving him a perfect view of your dress riding up your hips. He reaches out and traces the lace of your panties upon the curve of your ass cheek, sliding his fingers under the material to cup your smooth flesh.

"Right out here in front of everybody? You naughty girl," he growls in your ear.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," you tell him, starting to sit back up, but his large paw of a hand keeps you bent forward. 

"Naw, baby girl, you're gonna get what you're askin' for. Now come on, grind on it. Get yourself nice 'n wet for me."

Closing your eyes you grind down, enjoying the hardness of him within his jeans, the movement pushing your panties to the side. Joel can feel your heat against him, and he lets out a hiss, desperate to fuck you hard and fast.

"Ain't got a lotta time," he murmurs, pushing your hair to the side so his lips ghost your ear, his breath warm on your skin. The cool breeze of the night is unnoticeable now, the way your desire heats your blood. Joel's already unbuttoning his jeans, trying to be discreet about it as your gondola makes another arc upwards. He takes off his flannel, remaining in his white tee, and wraps it around you both like a blanket for your privacy.

You lift up enough, biting back a gasp as his rough fingers push your panties over one lip, exposing your pretty pussy to him. Two fingers glide along your seam, circling your clit before delving inside, coating them in your slick.

"Keep suckin' on your cone, baby," he tells you. "I got my own sweet treat right here."

He plunges in again, curling his fingers, smirking at your barely-concealed whimpers as his digits drive in deep. "Quiet, sweetheart, don't want people to hear ya." He holds you close as you wriggle on his lap, your ice cream forgotten as it drips white on your hand.

"You need me right here?" he asks, lining up his cock with your entrance, the bulbous mushroom tip sliding in between your folds, teasing. 

"Joel," you whine, your words lost in the wind as your gondola goes over the arc, starting its gentle descent down. He waits until you're moving up again before he nudges himself into you, unprepared for when you slam down on him eagerly. He has to hold back from bucking up into you with relentless force. 

"Jesus, woman," he grunts, hands gripping your hips so hard you'll have bruises. "Just sit for awhile.. lemme feel ya."

It's hard to concentrate on anything else with his cock pressed deep inside, your need to move held down by his large hand and iron grip. He's pressed close to your back, hot breath on the nape of your neck as he nuzzles your hair. "Y'feel so good.." he mutters, starting to slowly lift you up then pull you down again, in complete control of the movement, hidden by the makeshift blanket of his flannel draped across your lap. You're squeezing around him as he grants you that little bit of friction with his small, shallow thrusts.

"Don't mind me, just eat your ice cream," Joel coaxes, pulling up the gusset of your panties to brush across your swollen clit, extracting a delicious sigh from your cotton candy-glossed lips. Your mouth closes over the melting treat as you shift in his lap, eyes closed as he continues the soft motions, his breathing growing heavy with restraint.

"You're just drippin' down to my balls," he utters, "drippin' just like that cone." His cock is sticky with your sweetness, which keeps gushing down to his balls and glazing the nest of his graying pubic hair. He slowly increases the tempo, the heavy slap slap of your thighs and ass against his flesh drowned out by the carnival noise. You're gripping the edge of the seat, legs wrapped around his like you're climbing a rope as you try to grind down on him with each downbeat.

He takes your hand, now streaked white with melted ice cream, and licks it up with his broad, flat tongue as you bounce on his lap and he grips your hips in a vain attempt to get you to be less conspicuous. "Jesus, easy, baby," he growls. 

"Number three, I see you!" the ride operator shouts a warning.

Your laughter floats on the air, throwing all caution to the wind as you keep at it, riding him underneath the flannel. "You're crazy," Joel rasps, his calloused thumb strumming your clit. He smirks, loving the payback he's giving you as you can't help sighing and gasping, writhing helpless in his lap.

"In all your years you've never fucked at the carnival?" you tease, barely able to get the words out as he applies more pressure.

He doesn't like admitting it's you he's driven to take this risks with, he just holds you closer, pressing in deep as you tremble and quake around him. "Just shut up and enjoy the ride, sugar plum."

But you're already on the edge, your vision blurred as the carnival lights turn fuzzy and the roar of the crowd below becomes secondary to the flithy words coming from your boyfriend.

"That's it, take it.. I love buryin' myself inside this sweet, tight cunt. You're always gonna take me, huh? Never gonna be too polite to just wait til we get to the truck.." And with that he presses down exactly where you need him and fireworks burst behind your eyes as you lean back, body arching away as he holds you, tries to keep your pleasure quiet though he knows it's impossible.

Following you right after, he empties himself inside you, burying his face in your sweet scented hair. The ride slows and passengers begin disembarking as you both tidy yourselves before getting out of the gondola, the operator giving you an odd look as you leave hand in hand, Joel's flannel now tied around your waist. Already he's spilling from you. You chuck the rest of the ice cream cone into the nearest trash.

"You just gonna let that go to waste?" he teases you.

"I can think of something even tastier that I wanna lick.." your tongue runs over your lips and he starts to harden in his jeans again.

"Girl you are somethin' else. Let's get you home."

dividers by @strangergraphics 👑

tagging peeps interested in my wip: @itwasntimethatdidit40

@milla-frenchy @everybodylovedcontractors @probablyreadinsmut

@joelalorian @tateypots @hiddenbabynyc @notyetraised-fromperdition

@risecupcake @darkpastelskies @rooney-verse @inept-the-magnificent

@76bookworm76 @foreveratlantica-blog @vivi-heavenly

@cxrsed-angel @southernbe @professionalpromqueen

@ankhmutes

[harunayuuka2060]

Azul: I'm sure you already know why you're here.

MC: *has been summoned to Octavinelle*

Azul: If a third party intentionally causes one party to breach their legally binding contract, they could be sued for tortious interference.

Azul: That's what you've been doing for some time now.

MC: ...

MC: I'm afraid I lack knowledge when it comes to business matters. Surely, you won’t hold that against me.

Azul: That's unfortunate. However, I can use other methods to ensure you fully understand what you've done.

MC: *smiles* Oh, would you?

Azul: *confused frown* You seem quite confident for someone who just came from another world.

MC: Yes, considering I've never been from this world, I certainly know how to put you at a disadvantage.

Azul: I don’t have time for bluff— *his eyes widened*

Azul: How—WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?!

MC: The only place you can find this photo is at the Atlantica Memorial Museum.

MC: I just happened to go there with my dorm leader and then I saw this photo.

MC: Something in the back of my mind urged me to get it.

Azul: You’re intending to use that as a blackmail material.

MC: Yes.

Azul: ...

Azul: *forces a smile* It takes more than that to intimidate me.

MC: ...

MC: I see. You're right.

MC: If others were to see it, it wouldn’t bother you.

Azul: Y-Yes. Now hand it to me.

MC: ...

MC: *stood up from their seat* No. This photo represents a cherished memory. If you won't value it, I may as well keep it.

Azul: ...

MC: *makes their way to the door*

Azul: Wait! We can still discuss—

*The door shuts.*

Azul: ...

Jade: *who didn't bother to interrupt throughout their conversation*

Jade: That was quite clever. *chuckles*

Jade: It's been a while since someone outsmarted you, Azul.

Azul: Quiet!

Azul: I need to steal that photo back.

Jade: Leave it to me.

Floyd: Eh~ Was the photo even legit?

Jade: Yes. We saw it with our own two eyes.

Floyd: *sigh* Alright. Who is it?

Jade: It's the person who single-handedly defeated a group of Savanaclaw students.

Floyd: ...

Floyd: *flashes an exciting yet terrifying smile*

Floyd: Why didn't you say earlier~?

Malleus: *sad pouty face* Aren't you heading back to the dorm with Dada?

MC: *smiles apologetically* There's something I need to do.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: *sigh* Alright.

MC: By the way, Dada, please try not to eat too much ice cream today.

Malleus: *pouts*

MC: *chuckles*

Malleus: *smiles* Well, just call me if you run into any trouble.

MC: *nods*

Malleus: *kisses their forehead then disappears*

MC: ...

Floyd: Eh~ How sweet~ Is Sea Slug your boyfriend~? *appears from the place where he's hiding*

MC: No.

Floyd: Are you sure~? Hehee~

MC: You're not here to be curious about that.

Floyd: Wow, straight to the point~. I like that.

Floyd: I've been wanting to give you a squeeze since the tournament~.

*A student rushes to report to Crowley.*

Scarabia student: Sir! MC and Floyd are fighting on Main Street!

Crowley: What?!

*Crowley, along with Professor Trein and Professor Crewel, hurried to Main Street to break up the fight between MC and Floyd.*

Crowley: Stop right this instant!

Professor Trein: Leech! You ought to know better than to harm students who are weaker than you—

Floyd: *turns his head* Huh?!

Professor Trein: ...

*MC's uniform is crooked, and their hair is messy from the fight, while Floyd, on the other hand, has light bruises on his cheek and traces of blood on his nose.*

Professor Crewel: ...

Professor Crewel: *looks at MC* Did you win, pup?

Floyd: I didn't lose yet, Beakfish!

MC: ...

Crowley: That's enough!

*In the faculty office, MC and Floyd are being asked why they fought in the first place.*

MC: ...

Floyd: ...

Professor Crewel: Aren't you both going to speak up?

MC and Floyd: ...

Crowley: Since you refused to provide a statement, I’m afraid both of you will have to face punishment.

Crowley: You will be helping the ghosts in the cafeteria for the next two weeks.

Floyd: *frowns* Why~?

MC: I'll do it.

Floyd: ...

Floyd: *smiles* Seashell-chan~ Let's continue our fight when no one's looking~.

Professor Trein: No. That was the end of it.

Floyd: Tch.

MC: ...

Azul: You lost to MC and failed to retrieve the photo.

Floyd: Eh~ Was I supposed to get it~?

Azul: JADE TOLD YOU!

Jade: It seems Floyd forgot due to his excitement.

Azul: ...

Azul: *breathes in* I'm going to handle this myself from now on.

[zegalba]

David Maisel: Ancient X-Rays (2014)

History's Shadow has as its source material x-rays of art objects that date from antiquity through just prior to the invention of photography. The x-rays have been culled from museum conservation archives, re-photographed and re-worked. Through the x-ray process, the artworks of origin become de-contextualized, yet acutely alive and renewed. The series concerns the dual processes and intertwined themes of memory and excavation.

[queenwille]

us resident here - i can't speak for any of the college campus experiences of antisemitism, but i do work in queer art spaces within the california bay area (berkeley, oakland, and san francisco). the most common antisemitism i've seen normalized is petty graffiti - "fuck israel" or "fuck zionists" appears somewhere on every block, most of the stop signs near me have a sticker calling to stop genocide where the "i" is shaped like israel colored in with a keffiyeh pattern, and there's a busy freeway underpass that has been wallpapered with memorial posters for hamas, hezbollah, houthi, and iri members a few times (it gets taken down every 6 months or so)

while it's a little less of an every day occurrence, another common trend is artists who aren't making art about i/p will still feel the need to virtue signal with design elements (just putting a crossed out israeli flag in the background for example), or throw away references to an israeli character being hated, or having a villain character (always played by a goy) use a bunch of yiddish words for no reason

this rise in performative vilification is distressing because it's going hand-in-hand with a culture of silence around being able to actually talk about anything jewish

a play by a holocaust survivor i produced recently had the marketing torpedoed by a lot of common arts marketing groups for vague and contradictory reasons (often weaponized incompetence, like one of them would really rather i think they were all morons who don't know how to open a pdf than admit they didn't want to hang up a poster about jews), and i clashed pretty horribly with a dramaturg who kept trying to bring gaza up in the educational resource materials even though the play was entirely set during the playwright's experience before her brother died on a death march

the isolation has had some devastating effects, like the closure of a jewish art museum because of funding problems - something literally every art and culture org in the state is dealing with. while so many other groups are calling for solidarity and mutual aid, this jewish museum received waves of harassing mail and was protested against twice supposedly for NOT promising to NOT platform zionists. showing the truth of "people love dead jews", the first statements of support from other organizations came after the closure announcement, when other museums could play the victim for their own fundraising and cry about how they could be next

while i can't speak for college atmosphere, i do some work in public elementary schools, and they've been removing jewish holidays from their cultural festivals and de-emphasizing the jewishness of many historical americans. mutliple school districts in the state are involved in lawsuits about toxic work environments for jewish teachers, inaction surrounding antisemitic bullying between students, or school boards being too blatant about the erasure i mentioned above

my personal experience might start with dumbass graffiti, and deal more with microaggressions than targeted harassment (except for what i witnessed at the museum), but it is hitting really close to home for me largely because throughout my childhood my family was kind of the picture of jewish american assimilation. we were the only jewish family in town, and i had to consciously try to regain a connection to judaism when i was in college. i'm seeing so many jewish families becoming more quiet and withdrawn and it's like a reenactment of choices my grandparents and parents made long before i was born. i chose to be jewish as much as i was born jewish, but i didn't fight for it as hard as i'm fighting now, and that's what scares me the most

i’m so sorry you’re experiencing this and please remember you’re not alone and we’re thinking of you!!!

thank you for sharing and i’m sending a big tight and overbearing jewish hug 🫂

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

i know we always joke about how ace shares one brain cell with deuce or how dumb he is but just how smart is ace canonically? cuz theres like many moments in the story of him proving to us that hes quick thinking and people praising him for it too

Well… “Smartness” of a fictional character is pretty hard to quantify 😅 It’s not like they’ve got IQ test scores we can use. Even if we did, the IQ tests most people think of do not account for those who have different strengths or learning preferences, such as Kalim, who is not book-smart but is emotionally intelligent and studies better in one-on-one settings as opposed to traditional classrooms).

That aside. Ace is definitely the smartest one of Yuu’s immediate friend group (comparing them to Deuce and Grim, I mean). I think the “single brain cell” duo/trio joke is based on moreso how this group tends to get into trouble together OR a misunderstanding of Ace’s skills. Unlike Deuce, who genuinely does not understand the content (even having to take remedial lessons) and has a hard time focusing + memorizing, Ace is a natural at it. He has a good memory and can imitate a lot of things (dancing, a runway walk, other languages, etc.) after observing it just once, as we see in book 5, Fairy Gala If, his Dorm Uniform vignettes, etc. Ace is also quick on his feet and able to come up with plans and lies on the fly (Riddle’s dream in book 7, book 3 at the museum, Endless Halloween Night, etc.). Adeuce are intentionally opposites of each other.

He is considered decent in the classroom too! Ace doesn’t need to take remedial lessons (again, unlike Deuce) and is often teasing Deuce about how long he takes to do homework and other assignments (while Ace wraps his up quickly). However, the thing with Ace is that he often seeks shortcuts in school, which might be why people assume he is “dumb”. Him seeking shortcuts actually isn’t because he struggles with the material, but because he has limited interest in learning. (Ace cuts class, ducks chores/responsibility, and still makes a deal with Azul to assure he passes his final exam with little effort on his end.) This is a pretty direct contrast to Deuce, who sucks at schoolwork but actively tries at it anyway. It’s even reflected in Ace’s favorite subject, Magic Analysis/Enigmics, which he states he enjoys because you just plug numbers into a formula. Again, it’s easy and minimal effort.

Personally, I don’t enjoy playing into the “single brain cell duo/trio” joke for the reason that I don’t find it super fitting for Ace. No shade to the fans who do use this term, it’s just not my own preference. I prefer to just say “Adeuce” or “Adeuce and Grim” when possible.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Apologies if this is a bit morbid, but my partner died a year ago and I've been left with their vast collection of sex toys. I've cleaned them all with a spray cleaner intended for toys, but I don't know if that makes them safe to continue using? Some of them are things we bought and used together, but many of them predate our relationship, so idk much about their history or the kind of material they're made of. I can tell some are pretty expensive tho and it seems wasteful to throw them out...

Sorry if this is a weird ask, but it's hard for me to talk about my partner IRL, so I haven't been able to get any perspective from friends and I'm worried they'd judge me either or keeping the toys OR for getting rid of them.

So any advice on potentially using another person's toys? Should I always dispose of toys if I don't know exactly where they've been? Is there a higher level of cleaning I should do beyond spray cleaner, soap and hot water? Any help is appreciated 💛

hi anon,

no need to apologize! this is a great question, and not one that I imagine is covered in most advice about grieving. I'm sorry for your loss, and I'm glad to be a resource figuring out an answer to this question.

so first off, re: cleaning, I'd check Dangerous Lilly's toy cleaning guide to make sure everything has been cleaned as thoroughly as possible based on what material it's made of. if you aren't sure what kind of material a toy is made of, that's a great sign right out of the gate that it's time for that toy to go - if you can't identify it, you can't make sure it's clean, and you can't even be sure it's body safe at all.

broadly speaking, I don't have any objections to keeping and using sex toys that you don't know the full history of, as long as you can verify that they're made of something non-porous that can be thoroughly cleaned. some people might balk at the idea of using a toy whose sexual history predates your relationship, but I'm a pragmatist and I think if you can handle having sex with a human person whose genitals have had sex with other people then a sex toy functionally isn't that much different. again, as long as we can clean it thoroughly!

overall, just from a health and safety standpoint, I'd say anything that we can confidently identify and clean is good to stay, if you want to keep and use them, while mystery toys or toys made of porous materials need to hit the bins. whether or not you continue to use these toys or turn them into a treasured collection is up to you! a lovingly preserved sex toy museum is as sweet a memorial as any.

[slushycoookie]

Between Two Worlds ~ Miguel O'Hara x Stripper! Reader (Pt.5)

★ Word Count: 3.9k

★ Content: Miguel is so smitten, it's serious. You two also go on a few more dates. The topic of the nature of your relationship comes up. Dana appears...again...

★ A/N: Hey, hey sorry this chapter took so long to come out. And is short! But I wanted to make sure I put this out before I start Kinktober. So enjoy!

⁺˚⋆｡°✩Prev | Next ✩°｡⋆˚⁺ Masterlist | Commissions

Miguel couldn’t stop thinking about the date last night.

Even as he mindlessly scanned the row of paint cans, looking at his phone for the exact color his mother wanted. Eggshell white and Bahama blue. Yet, he was seeing none of those colors.

It didn't help that his mind kept lingering on you. Reminding himself about how pretty you looked last night. Your beautiful body hugging that dress. How soft you were when you kissed, taking in your full lips to sear it into his memory. It took Miguel almost a hour to convince himself to remove the trace of lipstick from his lips when he settled down last night.

He missed you. He wanted to see you again.

It was clear you did too when you sent him a voice message this morning, saying those words after the usual good morning. Your voice low as if you just woke up, but still sounding just as beautiful.

Miguel needed to focus. His mother wouldn't tolerate him messing around in the store, especially since the exact colors he was looking for were in front of his face the whole time.

He couldn't help but be grateful to his mother for giving him something to do. Otherwise, Miguel would be lying in bed thinking about you all day. He needed you to occupy his space day and night. Be close to you. Touch you.

It gets so bad he wonders what it would be like if you helped him shop.

Would you be able to tell the difference between the paint colors his mom wanted? Would you start looking at colors yourself to prepare for your house? Miguel would be on board to help you, making sure you don’t carry anything heavy. He didn’t want your nails to break. He’s sure you’d wear something on the verge of cute and comfortable during the shopping trip. And he’d try not to stare while he was picking out paintbrushes.

Miguel had to do another date with you soon, or else he’d do something drastic.

He dropped off the materials his mother needed, not wanting to be there longer than he had to. Miguel didn’t want to get into the reason why she was fixing up the house. He caulked it up as her wanting not to mourn for her abusive husband.

Conchata checked off the list as Miguel brought the items inside the house. He wasn’t listening when his phone vibrated. He wondered if it was you. He hoped it was you.

“What's going on with you?”

He freezes when placing the paint cans by the wall in the house.

“What? Nothing.”

“I could've sworn I saw you walk faster.”

“No, I didn't.” Miguel glances at all the materials, paint, caulk to patch up the walls, some roller brushes, etc. Enough to start the home improvement process. “Do you have everything you need?”

“I think so.”

His eyes land on the tarp on the floor, “You’re not planning to do all of this by yourself, right?”

“I’m not. I hired some people to do it for me. All I have to do is push them around.”

Miguel tries not to shake his head when she holds up swatches along the wall. “Call me if you need anything else.”

He gave her a gentle kiss against her head before taking his leave. When he did so, he checked his phone and felt disappointed when it was just a notification reminding him of the time he went to the museum with Dana. The picture showed both of them at a high-end event, with neutral smiles and dressed up.

When he dated Dana, there was a vast difference between you and her.

Although the incident with her wasn't fresh in his mind anymore, he still remembered what it was like being with her. When they were engaged, everything was relaxed and quiet despite them taking the next steps in their lives.

You were the opposite.

Not chaotic, but ecstatic about the newfound relationship status.

You'd send him messages while Miguel was at work, telling him to have a good day with a swarm of emojis. You'd send him more voice messages, which're filled with various topics. About your own day, what you saw while browsing social media, and he'd listen. You reciprocated too when inviting him to talk about his interests and his day.

Dana hardly did any of that. She'd settle on a good morning before not getting into much detail about her day. Almost bored about the topic. Her eyes were on the verge of disinterest whenever Miguel had a chance to talk about himself.

Then there were the dates.

Dana was more fond of high-end luxuries like five-star restaurants, museums, and theaters. The more expensive, the better. Miguel didn’t have problems with it; he was known to indulge in those pleasantries from time to time. But with you, it was the opposite.

The two of you went to the mall.

You insisted that hanging out for a few hours and window shop would be fun. Miguel figured you'd want to go into one of the luxury stores to browse. Only for you to hardly go into any of them.

He watches you point at a cute handbag on display or dazzling shoes that would fit with your aesthetic at the club. So imagine his surprise when you walk away to look at something else instead of buying it.

“I thought you liked it.”

“I do…” Your eyes skim across more pretty shoes, “But I don't need them.”

“You want them though.” You shrug, and he steps into your line of sight. “I can buy them for you.”

“No, don't do that. I'm good.”

You try to get out of the shoe aisle, but Miguel blocks your path. “I want to. I'm your boyfriend. I want to give you nice things.”

“Did you not see the price tag?” You return to the shoes and pick them up, the price of almost two hundred dollars. “I've rarely bought shoes for that price.”

“I got it.” Miguel takes the shoes, but you hold them close to your chest.

“Hold up. If you buy something for me, I'll buy something for you.”

“I don't need anything.” He tries to take your shoes again, but you turn away.

“You don't have to need anything. But if there's something you want, I'll get it.”

“No, really I'm good-”

“I'm not taking no for an answer, baby.”

Miguel sucks his teeth before agreeing with your proposal. You squeal, more excited to continue your trek around the mall, your new goal being to buy him something he wants.

Dana hardly offered to buy him anything the whole time they were together. She did go out of her away to buy him things, mainly chains or designer watches, but that's for his birthday or Christmas. Not during a random day of the week.

You pointed out multiple stores that fits Miguel’s aesthetic. He decided to go into one that had button down shirts he liked to wear for work. As he browsed through the shirt racks, eyes were on him. Yours were following his movements, ready to grab a shirt that caught his eye.

“How's this?” Miguel holds up a powder blue shirt and you inspect it.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let's get it!”

He can finally relax when satisfying you with his choice, but you notice the tag. “Wait, it's only thirty bucks.”

Miguel also glances at it, “Oh, is that too much? I can get something else-”

“Miguel.” You give him a look, “First off, don't insult me like that again. Secondly, you just spent two hundred dollars on me, which is not the same.”

“Oh.” He looks at the shirt and then back at you. “So, I can get a few more?”

“Yeah, you can.”

Miguel puts more effort into his search. He gets a few more shirts, but the total is still less than what he spent on you. You don't say anything as he thanks you with a bright smile.

Taking a quick break by eating at the food court, Miguel's phone vibrates from Gabriel's message. Without completely looking at it yet, his eyes roll at knowing what the message was going to say, asking the daily question of when he was going to meet you. Sure, it's been two months since he started dating you, but he didn't want to rush you.

Miguel tried to hide his disdain by so much as you were feeding him macaroons. His lips grazing your fingers while taking a bite. Your thumb wiping off the crumbs from the corner of his mouth. Your eyes connecting and you shoot him a wink, the action shooting down to his lower body. He gets a strong urge to pull you back to the car so he can kiss you all over.

He groans when the phone vibrates against the table again.

“Is there a fire somewhere?”

“The fire being my brother. He keeps texting me about wanting to meet you. I keep telling him it depends on when you want to.”

You take a sip from your Boba tea before outstretching your hand. “Gimme.”

As Miguel places his phone in your palm, you casually press video call.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm saying hi to your brother.” You hold up the phone, making sure you were decent for the camera. When the call connects, you flash the biggest smile on the planet. “Hi, Gabriel.”

“Hi? Uh, who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

You purse your lips, “He’s munching on some macaroons. Say hi, Miguel.” You briefly turn the phone to Miguel, making him wave before turning the phone back to you.

“Oh. My. God. You're who my brother is dating? Do you know how many times I've been asking to meet you?”

Too many times.

“A lot. It's okay though I've been wanting to meet you too. You're the main one blowing up his phone.”

“Somebody’s gotta do it-Hey, babe!” Gabriel shouts through the phone, making you and Miguel snort. “Come here real quick and meet Miguel’s girl!”

You're laughing when Kasey approaches the phone, waving hello to her.

“Whoa, you're the woman who's dating Miguel? Damn, you're hot.”

Gabriel held his hands up. “My girlfriend said it, not me.”

“Okay, that's enough out of you two.” Miguel reaches for the phone, but is stopped by Gabriel's protest.

“No, wait not until Xina sees her! I know she's not busy. She just told me she was binging that zombie show.”

“Ooh is it the one where if you die, you come back as a zombie?” You ask and Gabriel snaps.

“Yes! That's the one.”

“I lost interest after season four.” Kasey inputs.

“I liked that season!” You add in, “In my opinion, it goes downhill after season eight.”

To Miguel’s surprise, Xina picks up, seeing a bunch of faces on the screen.

“Didn’t I tell you not to bother me because I'm vegging out on my couch?”

“Stop vegging out and meet Miguel’s girlfriend.”

You wave once more, “Hi! It's very nice to meet you.”

“Oh, likewise.” Xina sits up, angling herself to not subject you to her binging phase.

“I'm sorry they sprung this on you. I just wanted to say hi.”

“It's fine. Maybe this will get Gabri to shut up for a while.”

“It won't.” Gabriel interjected, “Because I'm not able to touch you yet. Give you one of my famous hugs.”

“You don't want that.” Miguel whispered over to you.

“Huh? What did he say?”

“Nothing!” You change the conversation: "I want to meet you guys too. It would be best if you all came to the club. Enjoy yourselves.”

Xina raises an eyebrow, “You'd invite us to your job?”

“Yeah. There's good drinks, food…”

“And half-naked dancers.”

“Well, that too.”

Xina lets out an unsure hum, and Miguel slots himself back into the conversation.

“Okay, we have to go now.”

“Aww no.” Gabriel pouts.

“Send me your number!” Kasey shouts. "We have to put you in the group chat!”

“Okay.” You say goodbye to them all before hanging up and giving him back his phone. “They seem nice.”

“They act worse than this.”

“But they love you. That’s always nice to have.”

Miguel couldn’t hold back his smile when you slip your fingers through his across the table, creating small circles on the back of his hand.

The anxiety he never knew he had lessened after you took the initiative to meet his family. And he wasn’t worried about the face-to-face meeting after the positive reception you received from everyone.

Well, almost everyone.

“She seems nice.” Xina said through the phone call.

Miguel nods as if she can see him, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel after dropping you off, “She is. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

“Me too…” He notices her trailing off, and anxiety starts pooling in his stomach.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. Not that serious.”

“Well, I’m suspecting it as the way you trailed off.”

Xina hums and he hears movement on the other line. “I’m just wondering, how is your relationship going to work?”

“What do you mean?”

“You and your dancer. You two are dating now. And you blow a lot of money when you go over there.”

“It’s not a lot of money.” Miguel mumbles, “Well, we’re acting like everything is normal. We don’t want anyone to suspect anything.”

When Miguel steps foot in the club, he tries to act like his usual self. A customer who wasn’t dating one of the dancers. It was for the best since you didn’t want anyone to find out. Especially Jess.

“I get that, but you know your relationship can be seen as…odd.”

“Odd? What do you mean by that?”

Xina remains silent. How convenient when he’s at a stop light, hanging on to every word she said to him so far. His hands getting clammy against the wheel.

“Miguel, you have a fairly decent, well, almost powerful position at a huge company. And you’re dating someone who shakes their ass at a popular nightclub. You also give them a lot of money in exchange for what, a private dance? Please tell me you’re catching on to what I’m saying.”

He almost crashed into a car at the realization. After swerving into the right lane and reassuring Xina, who panicked, Miguel pulled over to gather his thoughts. He didn’t pick up on the slight power imbalance you two had when you started dating. Miguel thought it was harmless.

“I-I’m not taking advantage of her or using her. Does it look that way? Oh god, it does look that way.”

“It can also appear that she’s using you or taking advantage with you. Because of your money. I brought this up with you before. When you told me Dana was buying a bunch of expensive stuff when you got that head geneticist job-”

“I told you Dana isn’t like that. And neither is she.” During your first meeting, you weren’t adamant on taking more of his money. Sure, he knows about you wanting to save up for a house, and part of his money is being contributed to said house. Miguel didn’t think like that.

“Okay, fine. You know her more than me. I still think it’s best to clear up any confusion by having a conversation. So you two are on the same page.”

Xina was right. Having a conversation would help you two in the long run, especially when your relationship starts to get serious.

He tried to call you when he got home, but you didn’t pick up. You were probably still too busy at the club. That was for the best since the conversation was better to have face-to-face.

The next time, Miguel’s stomach twisted when he sat down in the private room.

You greeted him with a wave, closing the door behind you. The click from your heels matched the pounding in his head. He rubbed the sweat from his palms against his pants, holding in the urge to throw up. As you picked up the remote to decide a song, he grabbed your hand.

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah. Let me pick a song first-”

“No, no song.”

You squint, “What do you mean ‘no song’? What’s wrong?”

“Am I taking advantage of you?” Miguel blurted out. He didn’t give you a chance to speak as he continued, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize my position would make our relationship odd. And I’m realizing that I’ve still been paying you a bunch of money since we started dating and I know you’re trying to buy a house, but I don’t want anyone to suspect you’re using me to help you buy one, which I know is not your intention-”

You silence him with a kiss. He accepts, his shoulders relaxing when he tastes your mango-scented lip gloss. You look directly into his deep eyes when you pull an inch away.

“Calm down.”

“Okay.”

You toss the remote to the side. “You’re not taking advantage of me and I’m not taking advantage of you.”

“But I give you almost a thousand every week.”

“You do, but I didn’t ask you to do that. That’s all you.”

“Because I want to support you. Now, I realize that throwing money for you to give me dances isn’t the best look. And we’re dating so…”

“I don’t care.” You say, hand on your hip. “Our positions don’t matter. I like you. You like me. What’s the problem?”

“I’m giving you money every time I come here.”

“So stop coming here if you have a problem with it.”

“I…”

He can’t. Seeing you in your element is one of the highlights of his week. What else was he supposed to do if he didn’t see you as much with your job? Miguel loves the dates he goes on with you, but he also enjoys watching you dance.

“I’m sorry.” You run your hand through his hair. Miguel leans into your touch, soothing the impending vomit in his throat. “I don’t want you to stop coming, but I don’t know what to do if you’re struggling like this. You know how Jess is about people not spending money in here.”

Miguel lights up.

“Can I speak to Jess?”

Your face twists with confusion, “Why?”

“I have an idea.”

Jess was in her office, in the back of The Weave, right near the locker rooms for the dancers. When you knocked, the door opened to Kaine, another of Jess’s security. Miguel always thought he was more intimidating due to the scar on his face and the buzz cut. He pays both of you no mind when he brushes aside you two.

“Jess? Your favorite customer wants to speak to you.”

“Which one?” Jess peers up from her computer, lighting up when Miguel comes into view, “Oh, Mr. Science Guy! What you need?” Miguel glances over at you and you give him the ok sign, leaving to return to the floor. “You finally gonna tell me that you’re dating one of my dancers?”

His eyes widen, “Wait, how do you know that?”

“You and Silk be giving cute glances at each other every five minutes. And don’t forget the private rooms have cameras.”

Miguel cleared his throat, not expecting to get hit what that. Now, he wasn’t sure if the idea he came up with was going to work.

“I really like her.”

“And that’s fine. As long as y’all don’t fuck in the club, I don’t care what you two do.” He nods at her words. “I will say this though. If you hurt my girl and you decide to show your sorry ass in the club, I will ban you for life and kick you to the curb.”

He gulped, fixing the collar on his shirt. “I understand.”

“Good.” Jess's tough demeanor returns to relaxed. "Now, what did you want to talk about?”

Miguel pulls out a grand and places it on the table. “Is it okay if I pay you this amount weekly? This is the same amount I give to Silk when I come here on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

Jess inspects the money, letting the bills fly across her thumb. “What’s the deal?”

“I want to keep coming here, but I don’t feel comfortable handing money directly to Silk since we are…an item. I still want to support your business and the dancers so, would that be enough?”

“Did you two fuck yet?”

“Huh? N-No! No, we didn’t…”

“Okay, just wanted to make sure you weren’t pussy whipped.” She places the money to the side, “That’s fine, but what do you get out of this?”

Miguel plays with the ends of his shirt, “I still want those forty-five minutes with her.”

“…that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Jess stares at him, inspecting his frame. The silence between them lingers as the pulsing beat from the club bangs against the walls. Miguel’s palms start to coat with sweat again, and he casually rubs them against his pants.

“Okay. You got a deal.”

He shifts with his feet. “O-Oh okay. Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” She shakes his hand as if this was the start of a profitable business deal.

Now, everything was perfect.

You two have stabilized the foundation of your relationship. Miguel just arranged plans for his family, excluding his mother to meet you at The Weave for an official meet and greet. And he was going to ask you if you wanted to go to the Banquet with him.

A brief doubt occurred that maybe it was too soon since the relationship was new. You could always say no. He never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable.

He wishes you could see the smile on his face when you text him saying yes. Your messages are filled with excited GIFs and reaction pictures.

“You're very happy today.” Dana interrupts and Miguel quickly puts his phone away.

“I-It's a good day today. Got a decent amount of work done…”

“Because Tyler stopped messing with you. I told him to lay off on you since you do so much.”

Miguel was too busy being happy about his relationship to realize that Tyler hasn’t bothered him lately.

“Really?”

Her nod and smug face said it all. “Even after everything, I'm still looking after you.”

“Thanks…” He moved over, letting her pour enough coffee into her mug. While passing her the usual cream and sugars, their hands brushed together. Miguel's muscles tensed while Dana giggled at the sudden contact.

“You excited about the banquet? Sure, it's about a month away, but…”

“I am. Even though it's work-related, it'd be nice to get away for the weekend.”

Dana nods, taking a sip of her coffee while Miguel pours himself another cup.

“Are you going to be okay?” His brows furrow at her question. “I mean, we usually go together every year since you started working here. I know it's going to be a change.”

Miguel holds back a grin, “Yeah, yeah I'll be okay.”

Tags: @miguelzslvtz @kitcatcrunch @nina-from-317

@slut4oscarissac23 @anythigbutmiguel @moonlight00sthings

@bajbr @freehentai @chubbybyunnie

@ilikeowlsidkwhy @questionable-behaviour

@imamexican @tatatida @aphinthestars

@bluesidez @saintdiior @prettygirleli

@twinkdrakez @vicravluv @brown-eyed-thang

@peachipeachy @sonicbutbutter @mermaidian02

@celi-xxmoon @roserfz27 @hellokittyloverrxox

@sweeetas @avengersinitiative2012

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Tips for Critical Reading

You'll find many ways to read and understand a text, but keeping a journal as you read is one of the best ways of exploring a piece of writing. By integrating reading and writing, you can interact with the work more fully.

Begin each new novel, play or poem without predetermined bias. If you decide in advance that all good art uses realistic settings and promotes your personal moral values, you close out the possibility of new experiences. You do not have to, nor should you, enjoy every work of literature that you read, but you should be willing to recognize that the imagination is limitless.

Read slowly. This suggestion can't be stressed enough. If you roller-skate through an art museum you won't see the paintings.

Read with pen in hand. Underline key phrases, speeches by major figures, or important statements by the narrator. But don't limit yourself. Underline or highlight anything that seems important or striking. Take notes on ideas or questions (don't trust your memory). Write in the margins. Keep a list of the characters and/or major events on the inside of the front cover. Circle words used in special ways or repeated in significant patterns. Look up words that you don't know or words you think you know but seem to have a special weight or usage.

Look for those qualities that professional writers look for in real life: conflict, contrast, contradiction, and characterization.

Look for rhythm, repetition, and pattern. Successful works of literature incorporate such structural devices in the language, dialogue, plot, characterization, and elsewhere. Pattern is form, and form is the shaping the artist gives to his or her experience. If you can identify the pattern and relate it to the content, you'll be on your way to insight.

Ask silent questions of the material as you read. Don't read passively, waiting to be told the "meaning." Most authors will seldom pronounce a moral. Even if they do, a work of literature is always more than its theme. Use the questions devised by reporters: Who, What, When, Where. Why and How may take more study—such questions probe the inner levels of a text.

Keep a reading journal. Record your first impressions, explore relationships, ask questions, write down quotations, and copy whole passages that are difficult or aesthetically pleasing.

The Reading Journal

Christopher Thaiss in Write to the Limit (Chicago: Holt, 1991) notes that the word journal comes from the French word for day, which is jour.

The word indicates that a journal is kept daily.

Thaiss also suggests that journals are kept for many different reasons: to record events, to keep an ongoing public record, to record feelings, to make close observations for scientific purposes and, finally, to explore emotions, memories and images in order to think and learn about any subject.

Don't feel overwhelmed. Just relax; notice and feel things.

Associate ideas with other subjects, objects or feelings.

Try the following 3 steps:

First, write what you see in the text at the surface level.

Next, write what you feel about what you see.

Finally, write down what you think it means or why you think it is important.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

[germanpostwarmodern]

The built manifestations of Brutalism, despite their omnipresence on social media, remain controversial: especially in Europe they are loved by some and hated by many. In other parts of the world opinions aren’t as polarized and Brutalism simply a part of the built environment, e.g. in Japan. Okinawa-based photographer Paul Tulett has been exploring the Japanese brutalist heritage for years and in his new book „Brutalist Japan“, recently published by Prestel, points to the particular appeal concrete had in postwar Japan: it offered seismic safety, was resistant to termites and easy to pour in form and via the shuttering boards also left room for the skilled Japanese wood crafts. At the same time the Japanese tradition for leaving natural materials rough and raw played in the hands of „béton brut“ that, as Tulett explains, became „béton nécessaire“.

The former’s gradual aging and the acceptance thereof agains roots in Japanese tradition, i.e. the concepts of „wabi sabi“ and „mono no aware“ which embrace the beauty of imperfection and describe the ambivalent awareness of the fleeting nature of beauty. Against this background and Tulett’s introduction to Japanese philosophies it becomes easier to understand why Brutalism is a lot less controversial in Japan than it is in other parts of the world and never disappeared. Accordingly the buildings gathered in „Brutalist Japan“ date from the 1950s to the present day and offer a comprehensive panorama of Brutalism in Japan: in brilliant photographs Tulett shows classics like Kenzo Tange’s Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum (1955) and Setagawa Ward Office (1959) or Le Corbusier’s National Museum of Western Art (1959) but also a plethora of little-known buildings. And they are compelling: the fortress-like Tanimura Art Museum (1983) by Togo Murano, the Keihan Uji Station (1995) by Hiroyuki Wakabayashi or the Okinawa Prefectural and Art Museum (2007) by Ishimoto and Niki Associates demonstrate the masterful use of raw concrete while also dealing with Japanese history and traditions.

This beautifully crafted mix of buildings makes the book a great read and an eye-opening survey of Japanese Brutalism. Highly recommended!

[scimagic]

Never for Me to Create (AM/Artist! Reader)

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

AM's always admired the ability to draw, just as much as he hates not being able to streak a brush against a canvas, never to form a thought to draw with a pencil. But the reader, his benevolent partner, is an artist willing to help him at least move a pencil with one of his cables. So he gets inside their head and gives them materials to draw. They begin with a simple sketch of his screen, with the bright blue logo of 'Allied Mastercomputer' printed on it.

Sorry for leaving all my AM fans waiting, I have so many projects and I haven't finished any of them, but hopefully soon!! For the mean time have this old lil drabble!

He laughs in delight, raspy and wheezing from the speaker behind me. Admiring the picture from inside my head. He breathes in a whisper.

Thank you, baby… Thank you…

I lean back against the wall, tapping the head of the pencil against the paper, trying to come up with more ideas for me and AM to draw.

Maybe background practice? Draw the extensive cables in my gilded cage. Or come up with something from memory, the appeal is to create after all.

Or…

How about you, my dear?

"Me?"

Yes… I notice the papers are filled with my image. And while I'm incredibly flattered to be your handsome muse, it would bring me much joy to know how you see yourself.

"Mm…" With new ideas coming up, I put the lead of the pencil back on the paper, beginning with the guiding lines next to the AM drawing. The cables are a bit uncomfortable to work with, but I make it work. They don't restrict me from movement, at least; they remind me of those tools with an extensive amount of tape where they get handled. Or those pens with the silicone cushion for support.

I know how I see you. If I was able to, I would show you in millions of paintings, enough to fill a museum and even more, but alas…

I continue to draw the base, trying to tap into the realistic side of my style.

And I know how you see yourself, I can see it right now, the image forming inside your head.

Almost half-lidded eyes, details of eyebags beneath them. No matter how many times we do this, the shyness of working with prying eyes gets me every time.

He chuckles, sensing the feeling rise.

Don't be coy now, my darling. We're way past that point in our relationship.

The bastard purrs, knowing the effect it takes on me and relishing on the fact.

Eyebrows… The bridge of a nose… Cheeks, round despite it all.

That's cute, AM giggles.

You know I admire your imagination? Your perception--

"You hate me for it." I mutter, already knowing the charades of his speech.

He scoffs, finding the interruption annoying.

Why yes. Yes I do, my dearest. I do hate you for it.

I pause, side eyeing the cables over on my left. Gazing back at the paper, I draw the pupils inside my eyes to glance at the sketch of AM's screen.

The machine rumbles as if it was a deep, thoughtful hum.

But how I also adore our little recreational activities. Don't you find it productive? Please, do tell.

I lean back against the wall again, giving it a second of thought.

"I do. I like drawing with you."

As do I, my love. As do I…

[bluemantics]

Masterlist of My Klance Fanfiction

Posting this now since there likely won't be much new content over the next ~2 weeks due to being on a family trip!

Walk With Me

T+ | 22K | Post-Canon

Lance McClain is content at home-- really, he is-- but when Keith shows up at his door, begging for help, he can't say no.

"They want to turn a property of mine into a museum, for some reason," Keith said.

“Which property?” Lance asked. He held his hand to shield against the bright sky as he looked up to Keith.

“The desert shack."

Now, Lance is on the universe's most exclusive weekend trip, forced to help Keith go through a musty pile of memories. Fabulous.

midnight snacks don't exist in space

G | 1.7K | RP/BP Canon Compliant

There are no rules about eating at 3:00 AM if you're in the far reaches of the universe.

In a bright kitchen while the team is asleep, Lance and Keith find each other, as they always do.

Why We Fight

T+ | 5.7K | RP/BP Canon Divergent

With the Rebels in need of resources, the team ventures to a planet known for its raw materials in hope that they'll join the coalition. Here's the thing: they need to prove that they can be trusted by telling the truth about why they fight.

Lance finds this more difficult to voice than the others. Unfortunately (thankfully), Keith has returned from the Blade and is more than willing to listen.

"This is bigger than any of us alone."

A Keith By Any Other Name

T+ | 8.2K | Coffee Shop Romcom AU

Lance McClain was dared to hit on Keith. Keith thought that’d be the first and last time they’d meet. However, Lance keeps coming back, charming Keith with his jokes and charisma.

Here’s the catch: Keith refuses to tell Lance his real name.

a billion light years from here

T+ | 8.5K | Post-Canon Letter Writing

Keith and Lance reconnect over letters. Through their writing, Keith learns to open up, and Lance learns what a home is.

"For all the game I talked on the castleship about missing home, now that I’m back on my family farm, I kind of feel like there’s something missing. Like, even surrounded by all of the juniberry flowers Allura gave us, and even with my parents, I still feel lonely. Or restless."

out of my head

G | 1.2K | High School Musical AU (ish)

Keith didn’t even want to watch the spring musical auditions. Forced by Pidge to accompany them, he finds himself surprised at the talent of a particular actor. He also finds himself surprised by his own response.

baptism by fire

T+ | 1.5K | Canon Universe

Lance just witnessed the unthinkable. Keith offers his company in wake of the tragedy.