Pidge,,, I Have No Clue If The Prompt Post You Reblogged Was Supposed To Be For Suggestions,,, But The

pidge,,, I have no clue if the prompt post you reblogged was supposed to be for suggestions,,, but the one about character A moving around character B and trying to turn the light of mid cuddle is just,, so javid. Javid who will do ANYTHING to prevent disturbing the other, no matter how urgent a task is,, (the 2am delirium is setting in)

(yes they were indeed!! and if anyone else would like to put something in the suggestion box you can do so here

thank you jasper for choosing the prompt i wanted to do the most)

"Jack," Davey murmurs into the comforter, "what are you doing?"

"Nothing," Jack whispers, "go back to sleep."

Davey makes a childish little hum in the back of his throat, clearly very upset about things he doesn't currently know about, but settles further into the cradle of Jack's arms with a soft sigh.

Jack breathes slowly, his whole body boiling over with Davey - Davey's warmth, Davey's weight, Davey... He's never going to get used to holding him, just... Touching him. Being allowed to do that. It'd taken him at least a week into being 'official' - three and a half weeks from their very first date and two months, three weeks and four days from first trying to work up the nerve (but who's counting) - to even feel like he really was allowed. Like Davey wasn't just waiting for him to reach out only to jump away from him and ask what the hell he was doing, as if he might've somehow misread all the flirtatious comments and obvious dates and Davey actually, literally telling him, "I want to be your boyfriend," word for word.

It'd honestly taken Davey pointing it out to him - trying very hard to be polite and chaste about it and failing miserably, because Davey doesn't like being denied, as much as he might pretend otherwise - for Jack to even realize, oh, yes, he can touch his boyfriend if he wants - and he has to think that Davey might regret giving him that realization, because those words went deep, deep into his chest, into something aching and wanting that he'd kept hidden away for years, and activated what Crutchie accurately calls his 'grab drive'; and now Jack can't turn it off.

It goes something like this: Davey will be making breakfast, still looking perfectly sleep-rumpled from the night before in nothing but Jack's sweater and a pair of long pyjama pants that, while Jack maintains are dorky as hell, make him look so heartwrenchingly soft. His hair will still be a mess of brush-stroke curls, not being bothered to've found a brush yet, and his eyes will still have just a bit of a sheen to them as he pulls himself into wakefulness, and he'll be punching the spatula into the frying pan in tiny jolts of movement, his limbs still sleep-weak and numb in some places. And then Jack, without even realizing, will be right behind him, arms around his waist and squeezing - not too hard - just to know that yes, Davey is real. He'll lean up on his tiptoes and prop his head on Davey's shoulder, nudging at the bare skin of his neck until Davey laughs once - a soft and sleepy sound - and turns himself into Jack's weight, flopping over him like a blanket, surrendering the spatula to Jack's more experienced hands (bless Davey's cooking skills, but the man is not patient enough for scramble). Grab drive.

There's more, of course - Davey's doing his 'tism pacing' (his words, not Jacks), wandering back and forth in the fog of overthinking? Jack's pulling him gently into his lap, letting him giggle and sigh and rest against Jack's shoulder as he works. Grab drive. Davey's reading on the couch, flat on his back, his shirt riding over the sharp jut of his hipbone, curls tumbling over the cushions? Jack's suddenly blanketing him, snuffling at Davey's neck, as Davey props his book against Jack's head, resting his wrists and rubbing little circles into Jack's scalp. Grab drive. Davey brushes his fingertips against Jack's wrists, slowly working his thumbs into the sore muscles? Jack's tipping his forehead into Davey's chest, nuzzling his forehead against the crest of his collarbone like he might fuse them at the marrow, and humming happily as Davey works out the kinks in his wrists and chides him for not warming up properly. Grab drive.

It's not his fault - mostly. If anything, Davey's the one who made him realize how very touch-starved he'd been all his life, denying himself hugs and head-pats and cheek-kisses from the time he was a child, because he'd done nothing to deserve them. Touch was earned, in Jack's experience, whether it was a soft stroke of his hair or a good, hard smack. It wasn't right to just expect someone to want you. It was rude, annoying, childish, bratty-

And then Davey showed up and gave him everything, without question - and Jack hadn't looked back since. He takes every touch Davey'll give him and does it with a smile - and he'd hope he gave back as well as he got.

Except - selfishly, perhaps - he does wish Davey might roll off his arm just a bit.

He should've said something, yes, but 'such is the hubris of man' or whatever else Davey might say if he were awake. It's Jack's fault, really, and he can't even bring himself to be that embarrassed about it. Davey likes to read himself to sleep most nights, which is fine, because Jack likes to tip his head onto Davey's shoulder while he scrolls aimlessly on his phone, so they can both trade memes or funny passages or whatever else - but this time, Jack had gotten just a tiny, tiny bit distracted. They were in the same position they are now, therabouts, Davey on his side with his book resting on the pillow and Jack hugging his face into Davey's chest like a koala (grab drive, baby) - and with every chapter Davey passed, he seeped further and further into the pillows, so enraptured in Alys Conran that he didn't even notice he was falling asleep. Jack did, though, of course, because Jack notices everything about Davey - particularly the way he fell asleep with his whole face nuzzled inside the pages, soft paper tickling his nose as he snuffles and hums. Usually, Jack's able to grab him right before he dozes off, nudge his way over Davey's long waist and click off his reading light without Davey so much as noticing, too caught up in the limbo of wake and sleep. But this was an image Jack had needed to just stare at for a bit, hold it in his hands, slip it into a scrapbook and doodle over it in glitter-pink gel pen, and by the time it'd even occurred to him to turn off the lamp, Davey was out like a light (ha-ha, irony) and sleeping like a rock on Jack's arm.

He tries to peel his left arm away from where it curls around Davey's shoulders, to stretch his joints until he can reach the switch, but no luck. He can almost hear Crutchie mocking him in the back of his tired mind-

("Alas, another victim of Jack Kelly's wee little nerd arms."

"You play DnD, motherfucker, don't start-"

"And I fuck at it, Cowboy, you wish you were me!")

Damn Crutchie and his noodle limbs - Jack can turn off a light. He shifts forward a little, tries to turn Davey just enough to let him reach over him - and Davey makes a noise like a baby rhino, shoving his weight indignantly against Jack's own.

"Come on, Jack, I'm tired..." He whines petulantly.

"I know, baby," Jack says soothingly, pitching his voice down to where he knows Davey's weak for it. "S'okay, go back to sleep."

"M'trying..." Davey mutters. "What're you doing?"

"Cheating on you. Go back to sleep."

"Oh?" Davey hums. "With who?"

"Hank Green. Go to sleep."

"Mm, that's so weird..." He can feel Davey smirking against his temple, which means Davey's at the very least awake enough to mock him - shit. "Hank never mentioned you."

"Oh? Are we on a first name basis with Hank now?"

"Yup," Davey nods, slow and sleepy, "we get brunch, like, every Sunday. Never mentioned you."

Jack laughs quietly, because the day Davey wakes up before noon on a Sunday is the day the world ends.

"Well, we just have that kind of relationship, y'know? We don't need to go bragging about it, we have that kind of..." He yawns into Davey's shirt, and feels Davey's soft chuff of laughter through his chest. "Natural intimacy."

Davey hums, stretching from his spine to his toes like a cat.

"I guess we'll have to share."

"Tragedy." Jack smirks. "Go to sleep."

"I can't if you're bothering me," Davey scoffs. Jack winces - if Davey can manage a word with three or more consecutive syllables, he has to be awake now. "What's going..."

Jack looks up in time to see Davey blinking awake, star-blue eyes still glossy with sleep. He frowns, penny-wide pupils shrinking at the sudden light - it's a battle for Jack not to clutch his chest and aw at the sight - and shakes his nose out of his book, twitching like a rabbit.

"Did I read-sleep again?" He asks, and Jack can't help his soft, confirming laugh. Davey giggles with him, glancing over his shoulder. "Did I leave the light on?"

"Yeaahhh," Jack winces. "I was gonna get it."

"You...?" Davey turns back to him, his frown turning soft at the edges as a smile toys at his lips. "Jack, is that seriously it? You just wanted to turn the light off?"

Jack laughs indignantly, shoving his palm against Davey's shoulder.

"You try moving when there's a six foot loser on your arm!"

"Five-nine, Jack, you're just little." Davey scoffs. "And you could've just woken me up."

Jack stuffs his face into the pillows and grumbles, glaring at his horrible, lovely boyfriend from over the fabric. He's going for cute, maybe a little 'so weird Davey's into it' if he's lucky, but Davey only stares at him in delight, eyes wide and calculating.

"Oh, Jack," he grins, his voice gilded with a teasing edge, "is that what that was? You didn't want to wake me!"

"I-!" Jack splutters, his face going warm. "You - you were sleeping, I didn't-!"

"Jackie..." Davey drawls, the just-barely-awake rasp in his voice doing very terrible things to Jack's mind. "You didn't want to wake me..."

"Stop it. That's your I'm right voice, and you haven't even proven anything-"

"You wanted boyfriend points," Davey snickers, "you wanted a good grade in cuddling, something that is both possible to achieve and-"

"Don't fucking Tumblr me, you menace."

Davey rolls his eyes, leaning over to drop his crumpled book on the bedside table, and hovers his hand over the switch with a teasing look.

"Can I turn this off, or will I be undermining your valiant efforts?"

"Mm, keep talkin' dirty to me, babe."

"Menace." Davey scoffs as he flicks off the light. They shuffle back to each other - Davey has a habit of pushing and shoving at his bedding, Jack included, until it's suitably comfortable for him - the two of them bathing in darkness, warmth and the whispers of each other's breath, already wrapped in soft slumber. Jack squeezes his waist with a contented sigh, one arm laid between them, the other pressed, palm flat, to the small of his back.

Yes. Very real. Good to know.

"Goodnight, Jackie."

"G'night, Davey."

Tags

rahhhh i need this sleebjy FUCKKKKKK

More Posts from Loiteringandlurking and Others

loiteringandlurking

1 year ago

and what if I make all the newsies in my au classically trained musicians... what then.

anyway Albert - trumpet

race - clarinet

Davey - alto sax

jack - piano/pitched percussion

crutchie - actually he's the only one who doesn't play anything .. he came along to all the band rehearsals and sat w them

Tags

newsies 92sies jack kelly racetrack higgins newsies uk newsies broadway newsies the musical uksies race newsies albert dasilva albert newsies jack newsies davey jacobs davey newsies crutchie newsies crutchie morris

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loiteringandlurking

1 year ago

hi !

this is so random but can you write abt ralbert?? like literally anything ralbert, i need more fuel for headcannons :3

RALBERT!!!!!! I LOVE RALBERT!!!!!!!

teehee I wrote this in a moment of yearning, sorry it's so short :(

'Albert, seriously.' Race sounds exasperated, holding Albert's left hand gingerly with his own, holding a torn up shirt in the other.

'I'm sorry, okay?' Albert mumbles over his shoulder, away from Race. 'You don't have to wrap my hands.' He sucks in a breath as coarse fabric tightens against his bloodied knuckles.

'You don't have to get in fights protecting people who don't need protecting.' Race glances up at Albert under his cap, eyes hard and cold.

Albert stares back, trying to give his coldest look. But he winces when Race turns his hand over, so his knuckles are resting on Race's warm palm. The sensation hurts, but it's welcome. Race ties the fabric around Albert's wrist, and gently puts his hand down, picking up the other one, dripping blood on Albert's shorts.

'But he called you bad things.' Albert says quietly, scrunching his left hand up. 'He called Jack bad things. He called the newsies bad things.'

'That doesn't mean you should beat him up.' Race says sharply, pulling the fabric a little too taut around Albert's knuckles. 'We can protect ourselves.'

Albert looks away. 'But I care. About you and Jack and the newsies. How else am I meant to show that I care?'

Race ties the fabric around Albert's hand, finishing the wrap. He puts his other hand on top of Albert's, like a sandwich. 'You feel this, Albert? You feel my hands, and how warm they are? That means I care. Soft touches mean you care, not hurting ones.'

Albert bites his lip. Soft touches. When was the last time Albert felt a soft touch?

Race puts his hand up to Albert's cheek, rubs his thumb over the bump of an old scar. 'Soft touches mean I love you, Albert. Soft touches mean I love you no matter what you do or what happens.' He chuckles a little. 'That doesn't mean I condone you beating up Oscar Delancey for almost no reason.'

Albert smiles softly, before wrapping Race in a tight hug.

It feels nice.

Albert hasn't hugged or been hugged in probably years. He feels his insides melt with comfort as Race reciprocated the hug, rubbing Albert's back and tightening his grip around Albert's middle.

Soft touches mean I love you.

Tags

newsies racetrack higgins race newsies racetrack newsies albert dasilva albert newsies ralbert newsies ralbert yearning tn I fear

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loiteringandlurking

1 year ago

the loveliest @crutchie-69 as crutchie!! as part of my newsiesblr cast drawings ... i rlly like how it turned out !!

Tags

newsies 92sies crutchie newsies crutchie morris newsies fanart newsiesblr cast

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loiteringandlurking

1 year ago

javey oneshot !

modern au, davey crutchie and jack are roommates, javey first kiss, 1.2k words, fluff?? idk how to tag fics ... enjoy :] ...

Jack and Crutchie were playing cards when Davey clomped into the room, gently placing his sax case on the vacant bottom bunk in the room before loosening his tie and unceremoniously dropping his school bag near his sax.

'What's got you so exhausted, Davey?' Crutchie asked, playing a 3 of clubs.

'You seen my exam timetable?' Davey grouched, loosening his tie further and swiping a hand through his hair. 'On top of that, band commitments for prefect assembly, AND quartet wants to get into this one gig... it's so full of shit.'

Jack played a 7 of clubs, trying to pretend to be focussed on anything but Davey's loose collar and tousled hair as he leant against the wall and checked his phone.

'... just drop the ass subjects then.' Crutchie was saying, playing an ace. 'Sorry, Jack.'

Jack groaned. Davey continued, 'I can't just drop all my sciences! My mother would kill me!'

'Least you got a mother.' Crutchie shrugged. Jack snorted, picking up the deck and shuffling. Crutchie continued, 'Some of us ain't so lucky.'

Jack snuck a glance at Davey while he shuffled, and fumbled, dropping all of the cards when Davey tilted his head back, sighing. He heard Crutchie suppress a laugh and threw a cushion at him.

'Jack, what do you think?' Davey looked at Jack through half-lidded eyes, head still tilted back. 'Surely I don't drop physics...'

Jack cleared his throat quickly, shoving the cards back into the case as Crutchie snorted again. 'Uh.. why? Like, why do you wants to drop it?'

'I just explained this.' Davey rolled his eyes playfully. 'Physics is so content-heavy that I can't keep up with my other subjects. So I might drop it. Then, I would have a free period at the same times as you and Crutchie too.'

'Yeah, drop it.' Jack said coolly, and suavely, and so chill-ly, in fact, that he could even hold eye contact with Davey's big, beautiful, glowing brown eyes for more than 0.183 of a second. Progress.

Crutchie pulled out his phone, evidently bored by the conversation Jack was leading so well.

'Oh goodness, I have to go to the toilet,' Crutchie said, lying horribly. 'I'll have to leave you two suckers to it.' He stood, grabbed his crutch, and was out the door without another word.

Davey took the new free spot on Jack's bed, and crashed down, slumping backwards.

'Jackie, I'm so fuckin tired.' He murmured, voice suddenly gravelly now that Crutchie had gone. Jack felt butterflies course through him at the nickname.

'Sleep, then.' Jack shrugged. 'It's, what, 11pm?'

'Yeah, but...' Davey sighed. 'I wanna stay up and talk to you. Haven't seen you all day.'

'Oh.' Jack's voice cracked, and he immediately curled in on himself. Davey laughed, loudly and long, and it almost made Jack feel better. Almost.

'Aw, Jack.' Davey laughed, wiping tears from his eyes, noticing Jack's frown. 'It's fine. It was funny.'

'Embarrassing.' Jack muttered, dropping his face into his hands.

'Nooo..' Davey said half-heartedly. 'It was very funny, though. I think I needed that after today.'

Jack looked at Davey's rosey cheeks, at his soft smile and his dimples, at his ruffled hair, and at his big eyes, and at his loosened shirt, and god he looked beautiful. Crutchie wasn't there, it was just him and Davey sitting on his bed. In silence. Awkward silence. As Davey looked back at Jack with his eyebrows drawn together slightly in confusion. Fuck.

Jack looked away, and felt his cheeks and ears warming.

Davey's gentle voice sounded from behind him. 'Jack, what's wrong?' He felt Davey's eyes on the back of his head, heard the concern seeping into his voice.

'Fine.' Jack muttered, mad at himself.

'No, you're not.' Jack felt a hand on his shoulder, felt that hand turn him around til he was facing Davey again. Davey, who was about one foot from his face. 'What's wrong?'

'I just...' Jack sighed, his eyes falling to his knees. 'I dunno.'

'You know. You can tell me. Whatever it is, it cannot possibly affect our friendship.'

'Oh, it can.' Jack laughed drily, shrugging Davey's hand off his shoulder.

'Stop being emo.' Davey frowned. 'Tell me. Tell me or I'll tell Crutchie that you cried.'

'I'm not crying!' Jack cried indignantly.

'It'll be your word against mine.' Davey shrugged, smirking. 'Now hurry up and tell me so I can go shower.'

Jack sighed. Might as well bite the bullet.

'I... uh...' He squeezed his eyes shut. 'I want to kiss you. Real bad.'

Silence. Jack grimaced.

He felt Davey's hand on his cheek. He opened his eyes a smidge, to see Davey's face, inches from his. Smiling.

'Figured that was the case.' Davey brought his other hand to the back of Jack's head. 'Might as well indulge you a little, huh?'

And Davey connected his lips with Jack's. Jack, too shocked to kiss back, eyes now wide open, as Davey pulled away. He chuckled at Jack's spellbound expression, frozen as he tried to take in what happened.

'No?' He asked, grinning.

Jack blinked, once, twice, and then grabbed Davey's face and pulled him right back in again. Davey's lips felt like electricity against Jack's, moving in a perfect rhythm. When Davey pulled apart for breath, Jack stayed close, pressing their foreheads together. He laughed breathlessly, incredulously.

'You wanted that, I take it?' Davey smiled.

'So much.' Jack agreed, connecting their lips again.

Jack was halfway through pushing Davey back down onto his pillows when they heard the clack of their key in the lock, and hadn't quite gotten a last taste fast enough for Crutchie to open the door, close it behind him, and take in the sight. The sight, that is, of Davey, lying down in Jack's bed, still with his shoes on, frantically pushing Jack away, and Jack straddling Davey, looking like a deer in headlights, wide eyed, staring at Crutchie like he was some kind of horror.

'Welcome back!' Davey said cheerfully, not making an effort to move. 'Told you this would happen.'

'Man, I thought he wouldn't. I thought he wouldn't so much that I came back early.' Crutchie replied casually, kicking off his slides.

Jack looked frantically between Crutchie and Davey. 'This was planned??'

'You think it wasn't obvious how bad you wanted Davey to kiss you?' Crutchie snorted. 'Even Davey knew. And Davey's dense.'

'You shut your mouth.' Davey replied sharply. 'I wanted it too.'

'That was just as crystal fucking clear.' Crutchie made his way over to his bed. 'You know how unbearable it is rooming with you two?'

Davey tapped Jack's thigh, and Jack moved quickly, realising he was still on top of Dave. Davey got up unceremoniously, casting a longing glance back at Jack, as if it was a woe to be away from him for this long. He lumbered his way over to his bed, fishing out his toiletry bag, towel, clothes and his wallet. He opened his wallet, held it out expectantly to Crutchie, who begrudginly dropped a few coins in.

'I'm gonna shower, lads.' He announced, grabbing his phone and left without anything else besides another glance at Jack.

Once the door was safely closed, Jack snapped his head towards Crutchie. 'That was a fucking BET?'

Tags

newsies 92sies jack kelly newsies broadway newsies the musical jack newsies davey jacobs davey newsies javey newsies javey rome wrote something ... newsies fics javey fics

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loiteringandlurking

1 year ago

completely honestly dude .. im in davey jacobs hell...... he's so ... so ... im going to eat him ..

Tags

newsies newsies broadway davey jacobs davey newsies

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loiteringandlurking

1 year ago

save me uksies... uksies..... uksies save me....

Tags

uksies

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loiteringandlurking

1 year ago

newsies cookies

hello tumblr. i go to a school and that school is happening to be doing newsies for this year’s musical!!

i’m planning to make cookies (mainly sugar) so if anyone has ideas for newsies themed cookies that’d be cool and i’d love to hear them <3

Tags

obviously newspapers n stuff could be cool to do a little newsies emblem like one used for the strike crutchies crutch crown for kony the list goes on

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loiteringandlurking

1 year ago

Me When I Go Really Insane And Draw More Newsies All Day

me when i go really insane and draw more newsies all day

Tags

i love them so much your ralbert drawings are actually IT im sobbing

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loiteringandlurking

1 year ago

Can u write anything ralbert. is rhat real. pls. Angsty,.,,,cute,, whatever au u want that u haven’t picked cheavhers for please race and albert

YAS!!!!

this is a snippet from my au that im writing ! hope u like :3

----

It was a cold winter night when Race realised he was in love.

Knock knock.

Race checked the time. What would anybody want with his sorry ass at 11:34pm?

He padded over to the door, rubbing his bleary tv eyes.

As he got closer to the door, he heard a sniffle.

Race's mind raced. Who would be crying outside his door late at night?

Did he fuck up?

God, did he ruin his chances with Al?

He opened the door, warily, prepared for the worst.

Albert's teary blue eyes and trembling hands greeted him.

Albert stood a little taller than Race, so he had to stand on tiptoe to see him eye to eye. His red hair was displaced from his usual slick back, strands falling down into his eyes, wet at the ends. He wore a grey shirt, with the sleeves cut off (as usual), with no jacket, despite the freezing temperature and the snow outside. Whether he was trembling because of the cold or the emotions he was clearly feeling was unclear.

In his hands, white knuckled and shaking, he held a Tupperware container full of food. It looked delicious.

And his face. God, his face. He looked at Race almost pleadingly with reddened eyes, eyebrows drawn together, lips pursed and swollen-looking, freckles strewn across his teary cheeks like shooting stars.

'Race?' He asked timidly, bottom lip quivering. Race, in a state of shock, only stepped to the side and waved Albert into his apartment. He closed the door behind him, and motioned Albert to his couch before almost sprinting to his bedroom and grabbing his duvet off his bed. He carried it into the living room, where Albert was now sitting, trembling, staring blankly at the floor, the meal deposited on Race's coffee table.

'Albert,' Race draped his duvet over Albert's shoulders, and climbed over the couch to sit next to him. 'I mean.. Is everything okay? What happened?'

Albert melted. He collapsed against Race, his tears sinking into Race's hoodie, chest heaving with sobs.

'I-' he choked out. 'I made you food. I've been leaving it.. outside your door for... for.. for weeks now, and I just..' he took in a shaky breath. 'I wanted you to.. to know it was me and also I need my containers again.'

'Oh, Albert.' Race hugged Al into his chest, holding him securely and rubbing his back as he cried. 'You're alright, it's okay.'

'I'm... I'm really drunk.' Albert murmured into Race's shoulder. 'M sorry.'

'Hey,' Race threaded his fingers into Albert's hair. 'You're alright. You want a glass of water? Let's get up, I'll give you a hoodie and some water, hey? Then we'll eat the food you brought, alright?'

Albert sniffled. 'Oh.. okay. Yeah.' He took a deep breath and removed himself from the soft curve of Race's body, and stood up, shaking a little.

'I'll get you a hoodie, okay? Head to the kitchen.'

'Okay.'

Race ran to his room, pulled out his biggest hoodie and made his way back to the kitchen, where he found Albert nearly passed out on his counter, eyes drooping, hands clasped together, his hair falling onto his face.

'Here, bud. Put this on.' Race handed Albert the hoodie and retrieved a glass, filling it with tap water. Aware of how tired Albert clearly was, he slipped his meal into the fridge- he'd eat it for breakfast tomorrow.

'Thanks.' Albert whispered, pulling the hoodie over his head- it fit him perfectly, and suited him really well- and downed the water Race gave him next.

'You wanna get some sleep, dude?' Race asked gently, rubbing Albert's back as he leant on the counter again. Albert nodded drowsily.

'Here, follow me.' Race took Albert's hand, leading him to his bedroom. 'Sleep here, yeah?' He deposited Albert so he was sitting on the single bed. 'I'll sleep on the coach tonight.'

'No...' Albert said quietly. 'Sleep here too. 'S comfy.' He dropped down to lay on his side, patting the spot next to him.

How could Race deny this beautiful, beautiful man?

Tags

newsies 92sies racetrack higgins newsies uk newsies broadway newsies the musical uksies race newsies racetrack newsies albert dasilva albert newsies ralbert newsies ralbert albert

28 notes View Post

loiteringandlurking

1 year ago