#I actually don't know if I like how this turned out but I'm just glad it can be yours now
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justiceiscalling · 1 day ago
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i had a dream that reminded me of the show titans and oh my god am i glad that show ended. it was so fun for me who never touched a comic a day in her life (and then when i did my first comics were DCeased), but god did they do jason so dirty.
like why did every adult in his life hate him? kori, who was everyones maternal figure in this shit, literally said she was angry at jason for dying.
(Kori: "i'm so angry."
Superboy: "At the Joker?"
Kori: "No, at Jason."
Gar: "Jason? Why?"
Kori: "Because he never learned! Jason never evolved. He never grew past his own worst instincts. Don't let that happen to you." --Titans Season 3 Episode 2)
like i know she did NOT try to turn his death into a lesson for gar and conner???? like what the actual fuck man. he literally tried to kill himself the season prior and you guys offered him no help, just antagonized him and treated him like absolute shit.
like, yes bro was bratty but nobody even cared to ask why? or to talk to bruce about it, to try to train it out of him, to offer him fucking therapy (i'm very aware he'd say no to this but its the thought that counts). but nope. just, don't let that happen to you.
as if that wasn't gars friend?? as if jason and gar weren't close? conner and jason, yeah, sure, fine. he probably didn't grieve a lot over him, they barely knew each other. but jason and gar? they got along.
and then the writers turning him absolutely evil was an insane option but, fine. killing hank for no reason other than the fact that he can? killing dick grayson? okay, go big or go home i guess (completely ignore the fact that jason only killed those who 'deserved' it (committed pretty serious crimes)).
to make matters worse, they didn't even stick to evil jason! they had a shitty somewhat-redeption arc at the end of the season (where jason gives them the code) and then the next season tim becomes fucking robin and he's okay with it?? he's??? fine??? with??? it???
he trains tim. jason todd trains tim drake.
even in titans, when jason started out he fucking loved robin. he was so excited to run around with robin dick grayson. jason died in that suit. yes he was being reckless, yes it wasn't a good instinct to go after the joker alone. but he was inexperienced. if bruce wants to have teenagers running around in suits he needs to properly teach them what they're doing before he allows them to leave in the green tights.
jason wouldn't train tim. not to be a part of a team that almost drove him to commit suicide, not to parade around in the same colors he died in. he'd probably beat the shit out of tim for doing that because tim knows the gist of what happened to him and he still wants to wear the green panties.
and if not then he'd just leave him alone, he wouldn't train the little shit to go out and wear those colors. maybe advise him to be something else because robins tend to have a short life span (both him and dick died in this universe and were then revived).
so, yeah, jason todd was immensely flawed in titans (reminded me of damian wayne in a way, actually) but he did not--in no way--deserve that treatment from the people meant to be his friends/mentors (rachel, kori, dick, bruce), and the the way these people treated him CAUSED his evil character arc. yes, i will die on this hill.
and GOD, don't even get me started on how badly they fucked up tim's character.
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that-hazbin · 4 hours ago
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Media Demon AU
Imagine Alastor giving off raw theatre kid energy as he tells Charlie about his current hyperfixation the production, the books, the actors ect.
And Lucifer and Lilith realise The Media Demon does have a ulterior motive, a captive audience to gossip with. I imagine he leaves them with a business card for his Radio Studio, praising Charlie's enthusiasm for the arts and telling her if she ever wants to sing or act professionally she can audition any time when she's older.
Unlikely but a funny possibility: Years later Alastor being approached by his Radio Studio's headline imp singer/actress/gossip bestie who reveals herself as the Princess of Hell. He did not expect that.
Funnier possibility: Alastor offers to sponsor the The Princess of Hells project, not knowing she's his headline singer(maybe Lucifer made it a condition that Charlie keeps her identity secret if she chooses to work with him, so Charlie's the one with a secret deal instead of Alastor). He tells his headline singer (and you can bet he's hammed up and perfected the daughter stealer act, he adores this little imp who reminds him of Charlie) the Princesses project has potential and he believes in it being possible while telling Charlie he's merely there for entertainment. She's nodding along with the warm fuzzies because Alastor her third parental figure genuinely believes in her project and she wants to hug him like she could as his headline singer and can't because of that blasted contract!!
Lmao it's really funny that Lucifer, Lilith, and Charlie would continue building a relationship with Alastor in their imp/succubus personas. It makes it 100% more adorable that he'd be talking about how much he believes in Princess Morningstar's redemption project to his favorite musical starlet.
He wouldn't even be the one to bring it up, disguised Charlie (maybe she calls herself Chelsea or Charlene) would be testing the waters like "Heyyy, I heard a rumor that the princess of hell is starting a... redemption hotel? What do you think—" And Alastor immediately gets INTO the conversation, full attention, practically vibrating with energy. He thinks it's a GREAT idea and Princess Charlotte Morningstar seems to have a BRILLIANT mind, isn't it GREAT that she cares so much about her subjects, and you know what, what do you say we go visit her daring hotel project and offer some advertisement services, let's go RIGHT NOW and—
and Charlie is holding onto her tears for dear LIFE.
She definitely wouldn't have the will to keep the secret from him when he meets her as the princess, though. Especially when he goes into his whole "I'm a scary overlord, fear me" persona, pretending he's not ACTUALLY that invested in this hotel project beyond the entertainment value. Alastor's all "HAHA, I don't believe in your silly redemption nonsense, no!" and Charlie's cracking up on the inside because SURE, Alastor, SURE you don't. It's not as though you were gossiping over tea earlier about the necessity of professional therapy for true redemption, and it's not like you already half-way redeemed half of Hell on your own just by turning it into a safe space for one's passions and talents.
Real talk though Alastor will be MORTIFIED when he finds out Charlie's identity, not just because he apparently already ruined his Grand Plan For Getting The Hazbin Hotel Back Together, but also because he's been in a sort of weird MAYBE relationship with her parents, and that means he's been ALMOST-DATING THE QUEEN AND KING THIS ENTIRE TIME. IT'S BEEN YEARS.
Wait is that why Hell's political scene has been improving every time he complained about something to them? Those little shits, they've been stealing his ideas and using him as their royal counsel! Hey, he should be PAYED for that shit!
Meanwhile Charlie's glad the secret's out because her parents no longer have an excuse to not ask Alastor, who is pretty much her third parent, out. Like, officially, instead of giving him weird heart eyes whenever he's not looking.
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Be mine
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Masterlist Word count: Zayne 1.3k, Xavier 1.1k, Rafayel 750 words, Sylus 1.3k, Caleb 360 words (I'm sorry, I'm still getting used to Caleb and don't really know how to write for him yet.)
Established relationship, domestic bliss.
Summary: It's Valentines day! (Yes, I know I'm late :"( I had work on the 14th and 15th. I am a bartender and it's been insane those days. Almost broke my back carrying kegs and boxes of wine.)
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Zayne
It's early in the morning when you feel Zayne stir. The sun hasn't even risen yet, but even on this Valentines day he has work. He presses a kiss to your forehead and a groan escapes you when the heater next to you leaves the bed to go take a shower.
'Zayne,' you call out, your voice cracking slightly from the sleep that's still impacting you. The matress sinks on his side of the bed. Without opening your eyes, you turn towards him. 'I don't get a proper kiss on Valentines day?'
You can feel him smile as he presses his lips against yours. Drowsily, you put one hand in his hair in a desperate attempt to keep him here with you. 'I love you, darling. I'll see you after work.'
'Love you too. Let me know if you get tied up in work.' It's a silent agreement between the two of you. His job is important, his work is important, and you know that. You also know he feels incredibly responsible for his patients.
At the start of your relationship, it took a little getting used to but by now you're more than accustomed to celebrating holidays before of after their actual date. You don't mind anymore as long as you get to spend time with your snowman, but he always seems to feel a little guilty about it.
You wish you could wipe that guilt from his mind, but that's a part that he keeps locked up. Even for you. You'll get there someday, but not today, not tomorrow, and maybe not even next year. That doesn't matter to you. After all, you've got the remainder of your lifetimes to find out every detail about him.
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Hours later, just as you expected, you get a call from Zayne explaining that they've got an influx of patients. He has to stay. Just like every other holiday. People do such insane things on holidays. It used to bother you, but you're just glad they've got such a talented doctor to take care of them.
You promised him to bring him dinner and sit down with him. Now, at the time that your reservation was supposed to be, you're strolling into the hospital with a homemade dinner and some desserts. The lady at the check in desk gives you a pitiful smile but you pay it little mind.
'Is Zayne in his office?'
'He might be. He just finished up with a patient so it might take him a few minutes,' she answers.
'Alright, can you let him know that I've got his dinner for him?' She nods and you take a seat in the waiting area next to a mother with a little boy that seems in a lot of pain. He looks over at you, looking strangely proud.
'I made my momma dinner,' he proudly exclaims. His mother almost bursts out laughing through her worry.
'You did? Then why are you here,' you question with excited curiosity to keep the kid engaged. He shows you his bright red hands. One of his fingers is bandaged up tightly with a kitchen towel.
'I cut my finger and grabbed a pot without gloves,' he tells you.
'Ovenmits,' his mother corrects.
'Ovenmits,' he repeats enthusiastically. You chuckle and put the bag with food on your lap. Rummaging through it to find the container with cookies you originally brought to give to Zayne to share.
'Well, if you don't get to have your Valentines dinner, I think you deserve a treat, right?'
'Oh, no thank you, we couldn't,' his mother quickly says with a gentle smile.
'Nonsense,' you answer with a big smile, 'I know it's not the most ideal to spend Valentines day in the hospital. Believe me, my husband is the head cardiac surgeon here.' You hand the container of cookies over to the woman who opens it for her son and lets him pick a cookie.
'You're bringing him food?'
'Yes, we're having dinner together on his break.'
'That's nice,' the woman smiles. Just then, a figure appears in front of you. You look up to see your wonderful boyfriend standing in front of you with a smile. 'Is this him?'
'Yes, this is Doctor Zayne,' you introduce him to the mother and the little kid munching on his cookie. 'Zayne, love, could you check him out quickly? He's got a cut.'
'Of course,' he replies with a kind smile and he kneels down in front of the kid, 'what seems to be the problem?'
'I cooked dinner for my mom,' he exclaims proudly. His mother shakes her head with a smile, her arm around the kid.
'He wanted to surprise me because I don't have a partner,' she explains quickly.
'That's real thoughtful of you,' Zayne says to the kid, 'next time maybe ask mom for help. Can you show me your hands?'
The kid opens his palms for Zayne, but there's a frown on his face. 'But then it won't be a surprise.'
'How about you make her a card next time? And then you can write in the card that you want to cook together. After all, Valentines day is about spending time with people you love.' You don't miss how Zayne looks up at you for a second. 'The burn isn't too bad. Some ointment should do the trick. It'll lessen in a week. Now how about that cut?'
'It's quite deep,' the mother warns. Zayne nods.
'Then how about we go to my office and I'll go see if you need stitches,' Zayne offers. The boy nods. 'Are you alright waiting a little longer, darling?'
'She can come with us,' the boy chimes in, 'I like her. She gave me cookies.' Zayne chuckles.
'Are you alright with that too,' he asks the mother. She shrugs.
'I don't mind.'
They're in and out within a few minutes. The cut wasn't too deep so Zayne glued it with instructions to keep it dry. He gave the kid some surgical gloves to use in the shower and showed him how to wash his hands without getting it wet. You quite liked watching him work like that.
Together, you waved the two goodbye at the reception and walked back to his office hand in hand.
'So when were you going to tell me we got married,' Zayne asks with a cheeky look on his face as he shuts the door behind you.
'Hm? What?'
'You called me your husband.'
'Oh,' you feel your cheeks burn, 'I guess it just slipped out.' He smiles and sits down with you at his desk while you dish out the food. There's a strangely happy look in his eyes that you can't quite place.
'You know,' he says as he reaches into the top drawer of his desk, 'I was going to do this at dinner, but this is as good a time as any.'
'What?' He puts a little velvet box in front of you.
'You've been with me through so much. More than you deserve to endure. You allow me to do my job without judging me for missing out on so many special moments. Instead, you create those moments for me. I could not ask for a better person to share this life with.' He takes the box and opens it, showing you a stunning ring. Then, he takes your hand, walks around his desk to you, and takes a knee in front of you. 'Will you do me the honor of being my wife?'
A huge grin spreads on your lips while tears start collecting in your eyes. With your free hand, you reach out to touch his face. 'You know, I always did prefer our private holiday celebrations.'
'Is that a yes?'
'It is.'
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Xavier
'Xavier? Are you ready?' He hears your voice loud and clear through the bedroom door. You had come over to his on impulse so you two could walk to the restaurant together. Only problem is, he was planning on picking you up and giving himself some more time to stop his nerves from racing.
Now, he's in the bedroom with a bad excuse. He told you he had forgotten something or didn't do something. He can't even remember clearly. What Xavier does know is that he looks a mess. His reflection looks the worst he has ever seen it, though he knows it's probably all in his head he can't shake it.
Can't shake that you deserve better, that you deserve someone else, someone that is not him. You deserve the absolute world, the universe, someone who could give you everything. That's just not him.
He's introverted, prefers to stay home with you but completely willing to go out if you ask. His days are spend taking it easy when he doesn't have work and he likes it that way, but sometimes he doubts if you don't want something more exciting.
Today out of all days, he should know that it's just his insecurities talking. He had already asked you to be his Valentine while walking home together last night and you said yes so enthusiastically. In fact, you had jumped him and the two of you fell into a fresh layer of snow in front of your apartment building.
'Xavier?' Your voice is almost like a blur to him now. He's so damn stuck in his own mind, in his own thoughts, in his own feelings. The little velvet box in his pocket feels like it holds the weight of the world.
One thing he does know for sure is that he wants this, wants you. Forever. He could just sit on the couch with you for the rest of his life and he would die a happy man.
Now he just has to ask if you want the same, but it's the asking part he gets stuck on. Last Valentines day was the same. He's had this ring for over a year. Originally, he had wanted to ask you on new years which turned into Valentines day, which turned into Easter, which turned into all the other holidays there are and now he's back at Valentines day. It isn't funny, but it kind of is.
'Xavier, are you alright?' The bedroom door opens ever so slightly as you peak your head around the corner. 'We've got a reservation.'
'I know, I'm just-' He can't find the words, his hands are clammy, he feels so damn nervous. Maybe you can't tell, maybe he can hold out until dinner, but then what happens if he backs out again?
You step into the room, towards him, and reach out for his hand. 'Xavier, love, we don't have to go if you're not feeling well. There's enough other days to go out for dinner together.'
'No, I feel fine. I want to take you out,' he tells you, a little more secure now. You take his hand and reach your other hand out to turn his head towards you. When he looks down at you, all he sees is the love you hold for him.
'It's fine. Really,' you assure him, 'I'm just as happy ordering in. As long as I get to spend the day with you.'
He takes a second to take you in. You look absolutely stunning. Yesterday you had teased him that you got a new dress and it was pink. Nothing could've prepared him for the dress you walked in with. It knocked the wind right out of him. You matched your nails to your dress and had your makeup done lightly.
'I love you.' The little words slip out so easily and they make you smile. That's enough for him. Maybe he doesn't need a fancy dinner, he doesn't need a holiday, he doesn't need a reason to ask. It's just you and it's just him. That's enough.
'I love you too,' you respond and get up on your tiptoes to ask for a kiss. He leans down and presses his lips against yours. A short, but loving peck. Your lip-gloss on his lips always makes you giggle a little. Not because it looks weird, but it's strangely intimate. Same with your lipstick.
'You know,' Xavier says as he puts his hand in his pocket, 'I've been wanting to ask you this for over a year now.' You watch as he gets on one knee, one hand still holding yours, the other holding a little box. A small gasp escapes you.
'Xavier-'
'Please, let me ask first.' You nod as tears fill your eyes. 'For the last few years you have made my life brighter, made me brighter. I literally glow around you. No one has ever made me feel that way. Two years ago, after Christmas with our friends, we went to bed together and you reminded me to drink some water before I went to sleep. Don't ask me why, but that's when I knew I wanted to ask you this. I've been trying to gather the courage and today I wanted to ask you at the restaurant but I just realized we don't need all that. Because I love you most because you love me for who I am. You don't ask me to put on a mask, don't force me out of my comfort zone while you do tease me every once in a while, you don't expect me to be something I'm not. You make me want to be the best version of myself for you and I love you so much for that. Will you marry me?'
He doesn't get an answer. Instead, you start laughing as you take a knee with him, reach inside the pocket of your dress and pull out a similar velvet box.
'You're kidding.'
'I'm not,' you laugh, 'I've also had it for over a year.' The shock slowly wears off and he starts laughing with you. You jump towards him, arms around his neck and you end up laughing on the floor together. Kisses and giggles are exchanged until the laughter finally dies down.
'Maybe we should just go to the courthouse tomorrow. Make sure we've got that covered too,' you suggest with a grin.
'I wouldn't be opposed to that. I'd finally get to call you my wife.'
'Should we cancel our reservation and order in?' His hands grab your face and he starts playfully leaving kisses all over your face. 'Xavier, stop that,' you laugh.
'You can't just say stuff like that. I can't marry you faster!'
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Rafayel
Rafayel has been wanting to propose to you for months and you've known that for months, but you don't want to rush him. However, getting extra dolled up for all special things he invites you to just in case he proposes and someone films it is getting tiresome.
And so, for this Valentines Day, you asked him to just stay home together. Spend some time on the couch, playing some games, ordering in some food. Just have a day of just the two of you and he happily obliged.
Now, as the sun is setting and you sit on the patio looking out on the beach together, you feel truly at ease. This day is the last day Rafayel would propose to you. He likes the grandeur of having something unique. He won't want to share his engagement day with some holiday you figure.
'Let's do one typical thing today,' you suggest with a satisfied smile. He looks over at you curiously. 'A walk on the beach?'
He hesitates to speak, no words able to form in his mouth. You don't know if you've just said something wrong or if he was so lost in this moment that he forgets to respond. That happens from time to time when he's painting, could be the same thing now.
'What? Are you waiting for the tide to change or something,' you question with a giggle and a playful nudge to his shoulder. That seems to wake him up. He rolls his eyes, a soft smirk playing on his lips.
'Maybe I'm just enjoying the sunset from here.' You raise and eyebrow and cross your arms.
'Oh really? Who are you and what have you done to my boyfriend?'
'What do you mean,' he laughs, 'I can't enjoy the sea from afar?'
'You've never said no to a beach walk with me before.' He breathes out a laugh and gets up, reaching out to you to take his hand. when you do, he starts running down to the shoreline. You're being dragged along in his long strides and you doubt you've ever ran this fast.
Just as he looks over his shoulder to look at your infectious smile, he trips and the both of you tumble into the sand. It covers you, slipping into places it really shouldn't be, but you keep laughing nonetheless. He reaches out for you again and shakes some sand out of your hair. You return the favour happily.
When he gets up, he holds out his hand for you again to pull you up. Just as you're halfway up, you notice his eyes are on something in the sand. You look down to see a little velvet box. When he realizes what it is, he lets go and you fall on your butt in the sand again.
Before he can grab it, you've already put your hand over it. His eyes meet yours again, the sparkle of mischief reflected in both of your eyes while a grin pulls onto his lips. His hand slips underneath yours, taking the box before you can wrap your hand around it. Then, he pounced on you, leaning down on his elbows to hold up his weight while keeping his face impossibly close to yours.
'Such an impatient little fishy,' he teases as he leans down to press a kiss on your lips, 'now that you know my plan, will you run away?'
You reach out to touch his face. Despite his confident words, his eyes are full of fear. Fear that he might've read this all wrong, fear that you aren't ready, fear that you do not want this. 'I've been waiting for you to ask. So get to asking.'
The biggest smile spreads on his lips as he pulls you back up. When he's got you standing, he kneels down in front of you with the sand covered velvet box in his hands. 'Will you marry me?'
'Yes. A million times yes,' you almost squeal. Now it is your turn to pounce on him, pushing him into the sand whilst peppering his face with kisses.
'If I knew this would be my future, I would've asked earlier,' he laughs.
'Good thing we've got the rest of our lives to catch up.'
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Sylus
You: "Why did you send me a ring size thingy?"
Sylus: "Do you want to spoil your birthday surprise?"
You: "Yes?"
Sylus: "I saw a jewelry set I think would look good on you. I need your ring size to make sure you'll be able to wear it."
But your birthday came and went. Sylus did give you a jewelry set but there was no ring. That's when you became suspicious of his intentions. At first you considered a weapon that needed your ring size, but that sounded too strange. You then went through every single little thing that you could think off until only one thought stuck in your mind.
Did he want your ring size to get you an engagement ring?
When that thought embedded itself in your mind, you got an idea. What if you could get the jump on him? Propose before him. Get him surprised and flustered. It's not every day you get to see your man like that.
So, one night when he came over, you took out the ring sizer he got you, put it on the coffee table before he arrived, and, when he started asking about it, joking about it. Teasing him that he never did get you that ring and teasingly putting it on him to see what would fit.
Eventually, you told him that you were throwing it out as you had no real use for it. He grumbled in agreement, seemingly not too happy about you throwing such a useful tool to him away. When you teased him for his tone, he simply told you he doesn't like you throwing his gifts away. Fair enough, so you kept it.
A few weeks later, you bought him a simple silver band with an engraving on the inside. Just for his eyes.
"Your little crow, always."
Very cheesy, but you knew it'd make him smile. To make it even more cheesy, you decided that you'd propose on Valentines Day. He had asked you out to dinner a few nights before and dropped of a beautifully tailored dress this morning. Red. His color.
As the sun begins to set, you get ready for the night, hoping that you can call Sylus your husband, or at least your fiancé in the morning. The dress makes you feel a little cheeky. It is draped so nicely and shows off just enough skin to make it classy. There's no tag, so somewhere in your mind, you imagine him designing it for you.
And as always, Sylus is exactly on time. Not a minute too early, not a minute too late. You know he stands in front of your door waiting for the agreed-upon time because he doesn't want to rush you. That's one of those little things about him that make your heart swell with love.
'Evening sweetie, you look breathtaking,' Sylus compliments you with a kind smile, handing over a beautiful bouquet of flowers, vase included so that you don't have to rush finding one. You notice the vase is one he has given you before. One that disappeared recently after you told him that your vase collection was getting too big for your apartment and to please stop giving you vases. Such a sweet man.
'Thank you, Sylus,' you give him your clutch in exchange for the flowers, smile brightly and turn to put the vase on your dinner table, 'they're stunning.' You notice how they blend with your interior and style perfectly. Sylus is nothing if not detail-oriented.
'Are you ready?' You nod and turn on your heel when you see his hand clasp around your clutch. Your velvet clutch that doesn't have any structuring material. While you try to keep your face neutral, there is a proud grin on his face. One that could be because he's taking you out, or because he felt the little ring box in your clutch.
'I am,' you smile and reach out to take your clutch and replace it with your hand. He doesn't object, but does offer his arm instead of his hand. However, that doesn't fly with you. Not on Valentines Day.
Of course, the restaurant Sylus takes you to is in the Michelin Guide. It's one of those places that has no prices next to the cheaper wines, but the most expensive bottles are shown with their prices. However, Sylus picks his wine like old money does. Not the most expensive but based on good wine years, regions, soil, the grape itself, the winery, the blend. He knows his wine like he knows his music, and his picks are never wrong.
Today that means a 2016 Barolo Riserva from Piedmont, Italy. Not a particularly expensive wine (yet) but it is considered a wine that could get even better with time.
After the wine is poured and the courses slowly come and go, Sylus reaches out over the table to hold your hand before the dessert course. 'Happy Valentine's Day, Sweetie.'
You can't help but notice the playful glint in his eye. He knows something or is planning something. Either are suspicious to you, but you're not letting it ruin your night. In fact, those things might turn out very well for you.
'You too, Sylus. Thank you for this beautiful night. It's perfect,' you reply, leaning closer to the table, your heart racing with excitement. 'But I think we can make it even better.'
Sylus raises an eyebrow, his expression teasing yet curious. 'What did you have in mind, Kitten?'
Under the table your reach into your clutch and take the ring box in your free hand. 'You know, I really do hate that you call me your girlfriend,' you say, trying to sound serious but Sylus looks right through that, still grinning, 'I'd much rather be your wife.'
A flicker of surprise appears in his eyes when you put the box on the table and open it. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he slips his hand into his pocket and puts another ring box on the table. When he opens it, you see a beautiful golden ring with rubies encrusted in the band. 'I know I've been stalling, but couldn't you have waited until dessert,' he teases.
Then, out comes the server with a huge display of desserts and at your side of the shared dessert, it says "Marry me?" in chocolate sauce letters. A huge smile spreads on your face. Sylus, the ever stoic boss of a criminal organisation, is a softy for you. Putty in your hands.
Your right hand is still intertwined with his left on the table. He brings it over to him and gently pushes the ring on your finger. It fits perfectly, as expected. He then offers his hand to you, but you shake your head. 'I want you to read the engraving first.'
He takes the ring from its box and squints to read the engraving. 'Your little crow, always,' he reads aloud, his voice slightly wavering. He quickly clears his throat with a cough to regain his composure. He knows he doesn't need to do that around you, but habits are habits for a reason. 'That's beautiful, sweetheart. Thank you for this,' all the teasing and joking in his voice has fallen away. You're left with sincerity that makes his words embed itself into your mind, engrave themselves into your memories, and you don't ever want this memory to fade away.
'I love you, Sylus.'
'I love you too... my little crow.'
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Caleb
(I'm gonna admit this right here right now, I stole this from a Kdrama called Reset Couple. I just felt like it was very Caleb coded.)
It's early. Too early for you to leave the bed but early enough for you to be awake. Caleb left the bed a bit ago to get ready for his run before work. As soon as he left the bed, you turned to his side to bask in his body heat.
After a few minutes, Caleb climbs over top of you on the bed and leans down to press a kiss on your temple. You reach out your right hand to caress his cheek. 'You're going for your run?'
'Yes, and I've got work right after, but I'll be home for lunch.'
'Alright, take care of yourself,' you tell him and cuddle back into the sheets with your eyes long closed again. With a smile, he gets back up and strides out of the room looking a little too happy for a regular morning.
As you hear the bedroom door shut, you clench your hands to pull the covers closer and you feel something between your fingers. Your eyes flutter open again as you look down at your hand.
There's a ring on your ring finger. One that you don't recognize. It's a simple band with a little paper plane engraved in it. You rub against the metal with your thumb for a few seconds as you mind is slowly waking up.
Ring? On your ring finger?!
'Caleb?' You turn towards the door that is already closed. 'Caleb!' After a short fight with the covers you run after him. He's just about to leave as you pull him away from the door and shut it. There's a smug smile on his face as you turn around to face him and shove your hand in his face. 'What is this?'
'A ring?'
'What kind of ring is this?' He leans in a little, still towering over you but your noses nearly touching.
'You know exactly what kind of ring this is,' he tells you. Tears sting in your eyes as you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him close. He happily receives the hug, wrapping his arms around your waist. 'Happy Valentines Day, pip-squeak.'
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midnightblosm · 1 day ago
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"Well, for now, all you can do is speculate. You don't actually know yet.. but don't worry, it'll be worth the wait." At this point, Georgia was running her mouth for the sake of banter. She was almost sure that she wouldn't keep anything from him if he came knocking. So to speak. Not that he necessarily needed to know that right off the bat.
"Uh, thanks I think?" She chuckled, sipping on her coffee as he spoke about younger girls. "No I'm actually so glad you think that way because I can't tell you how many guys my age I know who want to date 18 year olds. It's weird." Another checkmark in the Good Guy column for him. Not that she was keeping track, but he was turning out to be pretty solid, way more than just fun to look at. And, that was pretty rare. "I mean, who says it's getting physical so soon? You taking a shower here and me making cake for you is literally that. Besides, I'm pretty sure you're gonna need to use my shower again. The maintenance team here isn't exactly known for their promptness." She'd leave the rest at that, it didn't need to be said out loud. Besides, pre-planning a post-date before it's even happened was a bad idea, she didn't want to jinx herself. Georgia laughed when he spoke of her ex, "It's like you know him. But yeah, he's exactly that. I was heart broken for a little while, and then I got over it. Not worth it."
She took both of their now empty plates and placed them in the sink, then picked up the coffee pot and came back to the kitchen island and refilled their cups, topping both off until the pot was empty. "All I said was making up, I said nothing about makeup sex. See how your mind goes there?" She winked at him and plopped a sugar cube into his coffee, and even stirred it for him. "Personally, I love a makeup pie. Preferably cherry. But with how excellent you claim you are... I take it you've had to do a lot of making up?"
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"Neither is mine. I can take what I dish out." He smirked, resting his head in his hand. "Sure. And you're thinking about me naked. So we're both winning in this situation. I like thinking about how sweet you are."
"No, you're fine. I believe you. You just look really young, which is a good thing I've heard. But you're fine. I mean I'm 32, which isn't old, but I look at some of these girls fresh out of college and I can't imagine wanting to date them. Like they're babies. And imagine if I were older preying on them? Yikes, I'd be a fucking loser." Kirk laughed, finishing his cup of coffee. The cake was a hit, more than half of it gone between the two of them. Then he waved her on to speak, sitting patiently as she went down her list. "I know it was a joke. But I'd like to get to know you a little more before things turn physical. Which, seeing how we're flirting now, will be sooner rather than later. It is presumptuous but I can also read a room. Listen if we have dinner and you send me back to my place with nary a kiss, I can handle it. I'm not an asshole. Lastly, it sounds like your ex was a fucking dipshit. Cheating is just so gross and cruel. Like just break up with the person and save them the agony and betrayal. It's all a machismo thing." He said, hands and cards on the table. "Oh I'm great at it. I'm a pro at makeup sex."
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neiptune · 2 years ago
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I think there's been a glitch
c/w: 6k wc, wedding date trope, friends to (possible) lovers, mentions of alcohol, mentions of cheating, levi's smoothness has your brain short circuiting
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Just as expected: you’re hating every second of it.
You love your family, you really do. Doesn’t matter how loud and overexcited and nosy they are, it’s always nice to take a few days off to travel back home. Sometimes it’s for birthdays, minor special occasions, surprise visits. Nothing was spontaneous about this specific occasion, though. Train tickets were bought months in advance, your dress picked facetiming your mom (she insisted), your arrival highly anticipated by aunts and uncles and cousins and old friends all coming together for the most significant event of the century: your little brother’s wedding.
To be absolutely honest, the day had a good start. Waking up at dawn didn’t bother you, not with the nutritious breakfast your mom had prepared and the excitement stirring behind your brother’s tense smile. The wedding was agreed to have a mix of traditional shinto-style (to please the bride’s family) and more laid back, western-style influences, something your family has always been accustomed to, given your dad’s roots.
The ceremony held at the shrine was emotional even for you. Hiromi looked gorgeous in her uchikake, gold threads and foil with motifs of waves and cranes standing out on a bright crimson base. You watched them drink the sake and exchange cups first, then vows and wedding rings. It was so hard to process than the man getting married was the same kid who once pooped himself in his crib at daycare and then proceeded to take off his diaper to play with the poop like it was play-doh. Sweet, sweet memories.
Everything started going downhill at the fancy hotel where the reception was set to be held.
The convention room is blinding in its beauty: white pillars, draping fabrics, pretty fairy lights and elegant floral arrangements compliment the venue and the minimalist but luxurious style your families decided to go with. You’re not foreign to wealth, your parents have worked hard to grant you and your sibling a comfortable life and you’re grateful for them. What you don’t like about your family, is how for your aunts and uncles and cousins, everything should constantly be tied to money and profit. Which is why they all turn up their noses when you reply to the dreaded “what’s your job again?” question. Which is why, at every family reunion, you’re forced to sit with your younger cousins and take part in the salary conversation (they could literally compare and brag for hours about raises and bonuses and working overtime and paid vacations). Which is why Aiko, already CEO of a join-stock company at her young age, had first introduced you to one of the employees from the financial department.
Floch Forster was certainly attractive, a real gentleman who’d take you out for fancy dinners, casual dates and fun rides on his flashy, red porsche cayenne. You liked him but your family had always liked him more, your brother going out for drinks with him, your dad inviting him over more and more frequently to watch baseball games or ask for help for the restoration of his old kawasaki ninja, a project he’d been working on for a while.
In the end, the relationship simply didn’t work out and you broke up with him in the most amicable way possible, the time spent together still worth cherishing. You were just too different from each other: his interests not matching yours, his friends way too stuck-up, his parents looking at you like you were some kind of gold digger.
But that’s when he became petty, cruel even, mocking your dreams, deriding your aspirations, sharp edged phrases and words thrown your way so harshly they still dance around your brain from time to time.
Are you surprised by his presence at your brother’s wedding? No. You knew he’d be invited, they’re still friends and you never really told your sibling how the separation actually went down. Is it shocking that he’s here with a pretty brunette anchored to his arm? Also no. He might be an asshole but he’s hot and rich, two qualities weighing pretty damn heavily on the bachelor scale. He’s also the main reason why you’d asked your painfully stoic, blasé friend to accompany you to the reception.
Yes, it was both a childish and desperate move, but you were willing to take drastic measures to save face before your very much extended very much elitist very much expectant family after the fatal phone call with your mom where you’d suddenly blurted out that you’d bring a special someone with you to the wedding.
Your love life (aka currently a big big void made of emotional unavailability & crippling loneliness) was yet another topic open to be attentively scrutinized by those around you. Normally you don’t mind, you really don’t, but just this one time you wanted it to be different. As much as you try not to let it get to you, the facts are that your younger brother is now married, your hot rich ex boyfriend has probably already proposed to his new girlfriend, you still haven’t been given the raise you were expecting and it plainly just sucks to be alone at weddings. It’s the fourth one you have attended on your own now and you can tell by your aunt’s sympathetic gaze and your cousins’ knowing giggles that you’re not gonna be able to push the he had to attend an emergency meeting with external partners lie any longer.
Frustration makes your stomach churn. Why couldn’t he have indulged you just this once?
“Oh, come on”
“No”
“Please!”
“Still no”
“I can beg”
“You’ve been begging for the past ten minutes”
“I can beg better?”
Levi’s resolute glare didn’t soften like it did on the rare occasions when he accommodated your requests.
“Why do you even need this?”
You heaved a deep sigh over his obstinacy, index finger lazily tracing the edge of the steaming cup in front of you. You’ve always been a coffee person but his is the only tea you’ll drink.
“D’you want the honest answer or the pathetic, moping one?”
He raised an eyebrow with a far too evident interest that had you rolling your eyes.
“Both”
“Well, if you must know, it’s because I’m a lame, lonely, disappointment of an adult who’s scared of facing her family’s overcritical comments and knowing glances at her younger sibling’s wedding” you paused to take a deep breath “that and the fact that I already lied and said I was gonna bring someone and my perfect ex everyone loves so much is gonna be there”
Levi slowly took a sip from his own cup, the classic bergamot flavor notes lingering with tantalizing velvety softness on his tongue.
“They both sound pathethic and moping to me”
You shrugged with a weak smile.
“They’re both honest, too”
“You’re gonna be fine” he pushed the little plate of shortbreads towards you.
“Did you hear the part about my perfect ex?” nevertheless, you accepted the cookie offer and, much to your friend’s horrified expression, dipped one into your tea prior to taking a bite.
“Give him my love” Levi ignores your frown and, more importantly, the annoyance he felt listening to you belittling yourself so blatantly.
“Okay” a defeated sigh leaves your lips as you take another cookie “not sure why I thought you’d get it”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Mouth still full, you gestured vaguely with your hands, tiny crumbs attached to your fingertips catching his attention for a split second before you speak again.
“Why would you? You’re a functioning adult. Should’ve asked someone as fucked up as me, maybe Reiner from the marketing department will—”
“A functioning adult?” Levi cut in, tone oozing with skepticism “that’s new. You usually refer to me as the clean freak with a stick up his ass”
“Which you are” your clarification is met with another glare “but you wouldn’t understand what being lame means”
“How so?” he challenged, eyes narrowed and some sort of weird warmth in the pit of his stomach he didn’t know how to shake off.
“You have your shit together, Levi. M’sure your family wouldn’t shoot sympathetic gazes your way if you showed up to your brother’s wedding on your own”
“I don’t have a brother”
“Not the point” you let out an obnoxious groan as you slightly pushed the empty cup away and dropped your head to rest on your overlapped arms, forehead pressing on the soft fabric of your sleeve. Levi sat still, grey eyes fixed on you.
“You’re not lame, idiot” no one else would’ve been able to tell that his tone had gone softer “I’m not dating anyone either and you still think I’m a functioning adult”
Exasperated, you turn your head so that your cheek is now pressed to your wrist as you glare at him.
“But that’s your choice. You don’t like anyone. While I had three of my coworkers come to my desk just to ask who the handsome dude passing by to bring me a homemade bento box was”
Half a smile dripping with smugness tugged at his lips, one that caused you to roll your eyes again.
“Don’t even” you warn, already gagging at the idea of him considering to visit you at work more often “forget I said anything. I’ll handle it”
As Levi inched across the table to flick your forehead and then got up to collect your cups, you had to quickly whisk away the thought of how much your family would have genuinely liked someone like him too.
On second thought, it’s not really fair to blame him. You might not be a greatly functioning one, but you’re still an adult. You can face something as trivial as the disappointment of multiple generations of your family, right? Either way, it would’ve felt wrong. It would’ve been awkward. Levi is stiff, way too cold, the opposite of cordial. He would hardly be credible as the good friend he actually is, let alone pass for a boyfriend. Has he ever even dated someone? You’re sure he has, given how weirdly popular he is. Yeah, there was one girl, what was her name again? Petra? Ugh, he hardly shares anything truly personal with you anyway. Sure, you can guess he’s a good partner. Handsome, kind, talented enough to cook killer meals, maybe even good in bed. It just wouldn’t hurt him to be a little more… amicable. But maybe that’s what women find attractive? The fact that he’s like this weird, interesting secret thing to continuously discover and unwrap until it suddenly turns into the perfect, passionate lover any woman wants to end up with?
The champagne you’re downing at the hotel bar is proving to be a wonderful ally, although your mind currently seems to be wandering a little. Or it was, at least until a familiar, awfully close and quite frankly unsettling voice causes a harsh return to the pathetic reality you’re trying to escape.
“Drowning your sorrows in alcohol? You haven’t changed at all” the venomous smile on his face is so painfully familiar it has your insides twisting right away.
“I’m really not in the mood, leave me alone” you mutter, not even sparing him a glance as you stubbornly focus on the golden bubbles popping in your freshly filled flute.
But Floch takes a seat right next to you and elegantly orders two martinis.
“Shaken, not stirred” he adds, to live up to yet another clichè. You can hardly suppress a snort.
“I would argue you already are. Alone, I mean” the rhythmic drumming of his fingers on the mahogany counter distracts you for a few seconds. When your gaze finally meets his, the fake sympathy glistening mischievously in his amber eyes almost has you barfing on the spot.
“Where’s your trophy wife? Is she even legal?”
Unperturbed, Floch smiles sweetly at you.
“She reminds you of yourself, doesn’t she? A young dove in need of rescue, held captive by the wrong guy” he inches closer, smile growing wider “but she’s nothing like you. You’re too exhausting to love, no one in their right mind would choose that”
And just like that, memories that cut as deep as razors make their way back to you right then and there.
If you really want to lose weight you shouldn’t eat the free bread at restaurants.
I feel like you’re faking this just to make me feel guilty.
You’re not that attractive anymore, you know that?
I’m sorry you feel that way.
Could’ve done so much better than you all this time.
Now I don’t feel so bad about having cheated.
The flute in your hand might very well shatter from how tightly you’re holding it, knuckles white as two drinks gracefully slide in front of you. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid, not him entirely but letting him know that he can still get under your skin.
“Fuck you” in a final, desperate attempt at playing off your discomfort as indifference, you hold him level in your gaze, a boldness so weak it has him chuckling.
“Am I interrupting something?”
You both turn to your right, the shock laced into your features comical enough to be met with a patient, slight smile.
Levi looks nothing less than dashing in his black suit, hands buried in the pockets of pants you wouldn’t even think he’d own. Since you’re pretty sure the alcohol has you hallucinating at this point, you open your mouth to voice your surprise, Floch’s presence long forgotten and filed away at the back of your mind. But right before you can sabotage yourself with dumb, unnecessary inquiries, Levi takes a step forward and with one, swift motion, cradles your cheek in his hand to gently press his lips to your forehead.
“Sorry I’m late” he murmurs, fighting back another smile before the dumbstruck way you keep looking at him.
“We haven’t met” Levi’s eyes follow the voice and flicker to the person sitting next to you. That’s when you snap back to reality once again. Goddamn, maybe the champagne wasn’t that good of an ally after all.
“We haven’t” he replies and Floch introduces himself, offering a hand that never gets shaken. Levi gives him a nod instead, a silvery gaze cold as steel you’ve never seen him direct to anyone. Perhaps that’s why it makes you shiver.
“Should we go? I’d like to meet your parents” his voice is kind as he looks at you again and you accept the support of his hand to hop down from the barstool. He doesn’t let go as he guides you away from the hotel bar and lightly squeezes your hand even if it’s cold and clammy.
“How are you here? When… why?” you whisper, still unable to shake off the shock of his sudden, unexpected presence.
“Stop asking dumb questions and play your part”
That’s more like it, you think. Thank god for the infuriating, irritating tone and impatient glare. Their familiarity will certainly be enough to ground you despite the warmth you can still feel on your forehead, right where his lips were pressed a few seconds earlier.
But then he looks at you again, head slightly tilted to the side, eyes slowly taking in your figure so blatantly, in a way so uncommon for him, it has the same warmth from before exploding in your chest as well.
“You look very nice, by the way”
Fuck being grounded, apparently.
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The champagne is no longer buzzing in your veins but it might as well be since your mind feels all over the place and you haven’t had a single second to collect your thoughts. Not in the middle of so many introductions, your mother’s obnoxious questions, your very much tipsy aunt’s inappropriate jokes, the microphone you had to approach and the speech you had to give in front of hundreds of people, one of them always focused on you with such intensity you won’t have to rewatch the videotape at family reunions to know that words came out ungraceful and wrong.
To be honest, the most unsettling thing is how smoothly the whole thing is going. It’s not weird, it’s definitely not awkward and he seems to be in complete control. Staggered, you’re left watching with wonder floating in incredulous eyes, a Levi you don’t think you’ve ever met before. It’s so effortless, the way he speaks to people he’s never met before and manages to come off as interesting, witty, charming. He’s smiling, he’s even respectfully offering elegant chuckles to uncomfortably personal questions and stories you just know he doesn’t actually think are funny.
As you dine at the table filled with curious old friends and noisy cousins, for the first time able to stay silent as all the attention is directed towards someone other than yourself, a weird thought crosses your mind. Levi, your friend Levi, fits so well. He’s perfectly at ease around chatty strangers, bold roses, tea lights and candles in clear metallic holders. How’s that even possible? The Levi you know, your Levi, curses under his breath if his usual barista tries to make small talk. He grunts if the cashier at the cinema chirps an overly excited hope you enjoy the movie, sir. You literally know he’s once replied to one of his clients’ email with please stop hoping your email finds me well, it never does.
So who’s the person sitting next to you, warm knee flush against yours underneath the table, features relaxed, pink tinted cheeks, courtesy of the cabernet sauvignon you’ve been served? It has your head spinning, the thought of him enduring a 4-hour train trip (he hates trains) to reach a town he’s never been to (he hates Kobe and its humid, subtropical climate) to attend a wedding (he hates social gatherings) as your date. What had him changing his mind? When did he change it? How is he so good at coming off as this bundle of… of… confidence and magnetism and graciousness?
He’s been impeccable so far, going as far as to bring a shugi-bukuro envelope with 50.000 JPY inside as a wedding gift.
Isn’t that what they’d expect from the groom’s sister’s partner?
Clearly, you have every intention of giving him that money back. As soon as you recover from the sudden and absolutely unexplainable embarrassment you feel every time his eyes flicker to you during a conversation or the shudder that runs down your spine when his hand gently presses on the small of your back to guide you from one table to the other, as different family members and friends of yours excitedly motion you to approach them.
It doesn’t have anything to do with him specifically, you tell yourself. It’s just the shame you must be feeling at carrying out such a pathetic act in front of everyone, it’s the awkwardness of having forced one of your closest friends to go out of his way to support your stupid, childish plan that now has you feeling all weird and vulnerable. Levi is not being his usual self and that makes you uncomfortable because you’re not allowed to be your usual self in turn. No sarcastic remarks, no witty comebacks, not a drop of the usual teasing you enjoy annoying him with.
It’s not him, it’s the whole setting. That’s what you tell yourself when Levi asks you to dance.
“Why?” you come off as defensive and he furrows his brows, confused.
“Because it’s what couples do at weddings?”
“We don’t have to” you’re not sure what you’re doing at this point “you can’t even dance”
He huffs at that, inching a little closer to casually lift the strap of your cocktail dress, cool fingertips barely brushing the skin of your arm as they guide the thin length of fabric up to your shoulder. The simple, intimate gesture stirs something in you.
“Are you coming or not? He’s watching”
You follow his gaze and meet Floch’s, three tables to the left. At this point the thought of him seems so worthless, so distant in time, you don’t even care about his judgmental glare anymore. But you don’t have the chance to make that clear, because your date whispers a soft “come on” so close to your ear his voice seems to trickle down your spine just to make you shiver and then offers his arm as an invitation for you to get up.
Regular you would’ve mocked the gesture, called him a victorian ghost or something. Current you, on the other hand? Apparently she’s accepting the support of his arm and can barely register Aiko’s excited squeal as she follows him all the way to the different couples already filling up the middle of the convention room, too disoriented to even remember she is the one who can’t dance. Still, the upbeat rhythm of the song being played is familiar enough to give you a false sense of security: you can wing it. Until you can’t. Because right as you position yourself in front of your friend with a tense smile, the familiar beat is abruptly taken from you. The music doesn’t stop, it just has the audacity to change into an excessively romantic, exceptionally slow, sappy track.
But Levi doesn’t look as dazed as you. He doesn’t waver as he pulls you close with one swift motion, right hand warm on your back while you barely have the time to balance yourself, fingers tightening around the fabric of his jacket, right above the shoulder.
“You’re being weird” he clasps your other hand, one eyebrow raised in that overcritical way of his.
“You’re being weird” you parrot back.
“What d’you mea—fuck” he curses as quietly as possible when you stomp on his foot, looking down for the first time to notice how weirdly and out of step you’re actually moving.
“Shit, sorry!” you, on the other hand, are not as quiet and attract the unwanted attention of the couple dancing nearby.
“What exactly are you doing?” Levi’s tone is familiarly mocking, which takes some of the weird awkwardness away.
“I’m not really good at this, okay?” you retort, praying your harsh reply remains private this time. Amused, he hums.
“No way”
“Shut up” you whine and accidentally step on his expensive leather shoe again, hard enough to make him hiss.
“Just follow my lead” Levi gives your left hand an impatient squeeze and you scoff with a theatrical ugh.
“Sexist”
He rolls his eyes but says nothing because you comply and honestly try to keep track of how he’s moving, intensely focused on not trampling on his foot again.
“Hey” his voice is dangerously soft once again “eyes on me”
Reluctantly, you look up from your feet and take a deep breath.
“Why are you this tense?”
“M’not a good dancer” you blurt the words out, as if to convince yourself. He’s noticed, of course he’s noticed. Idiot.
“Okay” Levi stops for a moment and gently grabs your wrists to guide your arms around his neck. He then positions his hands on your hips and applies the slightest pressure to guide your movements. “Better?” he asks and you know he’s just wondering if this is easier for you, but the dryness of your throat seems to be taking over your ability to speak. You resort to a simple nod as he sways to the beat, feet barely lifting while stepping from side to side. You get accustomed to the movement after a while and manage to move your body slowly back and forth, the comfort of not feeling like a wooden block allowing you to relax a little.
“How are you so good at this?” it almost sounds like you’re accusing him, must be why he cracks a smile.
“Took a few classes with Hange, they were obsessed and had no one else to go with”
You’re finally able to let out a genuine, incredulous laugh.
“I’m sorry, what? So you just joined? Goodness of your heart?”
Levi shrugs.
“They had to buy me lunch for a month. Totally worth it”
There’s mirth glistening in his eyes when the pressure of his hands changes slightly, the left one tightening on your waist to subtly guide you in the opposite direction. Has he danced like this with Hange as well? If yes, did they feel as flustered and ridiculous as you’re feeling? Probably not, because they’re friends and friends should not experience the weird body reactions you seem to be having at the moment, goosebumps blossoming underneath his fingertips, the staccato of your heartbeat, blood wooshing in your ears. Fuck.
“Tense again” his eyes are narrowed now, but not in his usual, threatening way. He’s studying you, looking for something he can’t seem to pinpoint amidst your dazed expression and sweaty hand. He would’ve been grossed out by anybody else’s palm but this is you, so Levi can’t really bring himself to give a shit.
“I’m sorry” you murmur and the sudden, sheepish route catches him off guard. You’re avoiding his gaze, eyes focused on something, somewhere over his shoulder.
“For what?”
“This whole charade” you whisper the last word, head hanging low just an excuse not to look at him “I’m so pathetic you felt bad enough to drop all your plans, come all the way here, be perfect and nice to everyone, spend so much money and I can’t even dance…” you sniffle, horrified by the sensation of being on the verge of bursting into tears in the middle of the dance floor.
Levi is silent long enough to prompt you to timidly look up from your shoes again. You’re worried he’s gonna be mad because what the hell, this is what you wanted. You asked him to do this for you and now it’s too late to whine about how sorry you are. But he doesn’t look mad. His features are unreadable as you return his gaze, which stirs a whole new kind of nervousness in you.
“I’m going to twirl you” the gentle warning takes you by surprise as Levi takes your hand from behind his neck, steps back a little and lifts your arm above your head. A bit stiffly, you turn around under it.
“Again” he prompts, arm already guiding you through another twirl. You comply, so clumsily a chuckle slips past your lips and Levi cracks another smile as you balance yourself against him, arms around his neck once again.
“See? You can dance” he mutters with a tone so soft it makes your heart squeeze.
“Please” you scoff, voice still a little broken that just won’t. Do.
Levi hums to himself, like he does whenever he’s trying to come to a decision.
“Let’s dip”
Your eyes comically grow in size.
“Let’s not?”
“I’ll do all the work” he playfully gives your hip a light squeeze to emphasize his words “you just have to let go”
“I’m not exactly good at letting go” you hope he can sense the warning in your tone but all you get is another eye roll.
“Yeah, I noticed” his tone, unlike yours, is weirdly serious “d’you trust me?”
Oh, well, putting it that way surely isn’t fair.
“Unfortunately, you’ve given me a reason or two to do that” you heave another sigh, defeated. Another smile tugs at his lips.
“I’m gonna do it slowly” he reaches behind his neck to grab your hand again, while his fingertips rise from your hip to your upper back.
“Twirl” Levi gently spins you again and his touch is featherlike when it glides down your side, grazes your stomach and settles on your lower back as you turn around, warm palm pressing firmly against it. The hand holding yours anchors your arm around his neck, then finds place on the nape of yours.
“Now, relax” it’s barely a whisper, so close you can’t hold back a shudder he pretends not to notice.
You soften your knees and then, with a movement so swift and natural, you’re turned to the side and pressed flush against him for a second, nestled in his embrace before you shut your eyes and Levi gently dips you, one of his strong arms secured around your waist to support your weight, the hand sustaining your neck tightening around your hair for a moment so brief you think you’ve imagined it.
He pauses as if you weigh nothing, then slowly brings you up again and you open your eyes, brows furrowing right as he lets completely go of you and the warmth of his arms is taken away so abruptly.
“You okay?” you didn’t think you’d be the one asking the question but something seems to be bothering him as he returns your confused gaze.
“Yeah. Can we take a break?” still weirdly well mannered, you find yourself thinking as you agree to make your way to your table again. Only he stops you right before you can take a seat next to Aiko, who’s blatantly gushing over you’re not sure what, precisely. Is it him? Or the weird dance that had you looking like a complete fool in front of everyone?
“How long before the cake?” he politely asks your cousin and she shrugs, not even attempting to hide the wide grin stretching her lips.
“Maybe around ten minutes”
“Permission to steal the groom’s sister for around ten minutes?”
Aiko’s chuckle isn’t enough to distract you from the tightening of your chest, something not entirely unpleasant swarming around in your stomach when he slips his fingers in between yours.
“Permission granted” she winks and you still, for the life of you, cannot understand why your heart flutters as you follow him outside the room, away from the party and the music and the chatter and all those happy, proud glances you’re no longer able to return because of how embarrassed you are by your own lie.
“Where are we going?” you bring yourself to ask, finding it exceptionally odd that he’s waiting for the elevator.
“My room”
“What? Why?”
Levi turns his head to look at you, eyebrows furrowing at your strangled tone.
“I forgot the wedding gift on the nightstand”
“Oh” you let out a nervous chuckle “right. And why d’you need me for that?”
“You look like you’re about to throw up, thought you could use a few minutes away from the crowd”
Well, he’s not wrong. But that doesn’t mean he gets to know.
“Dunno what you’re talking about” you flash him a fake smile and he skeptically hums as the doors open and you step inside.
Of course his room is located at the top floor of the building, where all the suites are. One thing about Levi is that he likes treating himself: whether it’s shopping from brands that produce top quality loose leaf teas, selecting premium suiting fabrics or always ordering the most expensive red wine at a restaurant, his taste is impeccable. He travels first class and only stays at 5-star hotels, so you really shouldn’t feel the guilt pangs stinging like needles in your throat when he swipes the key card through the magnetic reader and swings the door open. You shouldn’t feel so bad while taking in the king size bed, the LCD tv, the additional area with armchairs and a whole sofa, the private balcony. But you do. And when he turns to look at you, still standing by the door with a heartbreaking, bashful expression taking over your features, Levi clenches his jaw.
“What are you doing?” you ask as you watch him slide the balcony glass door.
“So many questions” he prompts you to precede him with a slight tilt of his head.
“What about the gift?”
Levi hates seeing you so defensive, so upset. He’s not used to that weird self-consciousness, not when you’re with him at least. Didn’t he come to obtain the exact opposite of what he’s getting? Isn’t he here to shield you from embarrassment, uneasiness? Why are you persisting in your stubborn shame?
“I get around ten minutes, remember?” he attempts a smile your tense features choose not to mirror. You sigh softly instead and, still uncertain, accept his invitation.
Outside the air is cool, a balm for your feverish skin. The balcony furniture includes two wooden armchairs, one small coffee table and a small couch. You plop down on the latter, not even having the energy to properly appreciate the beauty of a sparkly Kobe right at your feet, silhouettes of skyscrapers standing out against the night sky, the flickering lights of the harbor shining in the distance, tower so familiar you’d recognize it from a mile away. It’s home.
“So” Levi makes himself comfortable next to you, the breeze gently combing his hair back “wanna tell me what’s wrong?”
Plenty is wrong, the most urgent matter being the overpowering attraction you’re feeling for one of your closest friends. It’s fine, no use lying to yourself any longer. Maybe it’s always been there, underneath all the teasing and the jokes and his rare smiles that always felt like small victories you got to collect and preserve in your memory at the end of each day, when  you’d often replay the hours spent together as pretty movie frames in your mind right before drifing off to sleep. But it’s easy, playing weird feelings off as regular familiarity that comes with friendship. You just didn’t think this night would make things feel so different, so good.
He’d be a great actual date, a wonderful actual boyfriend too, probably. He’s already a wonderful, actual friend. One that dropped everything to rush to the rescue of annoying, silly you, seemingly an adult but really a scared excuse of a grown up who can’t confront her family on a matter as trivial as not being in a relationship. It’s mortifying, really. You wouldn’t think it’d feel that humiliating, especially not in his presence.
Slender fingers delicately close on the fist you don’t realize you’re clenching. They’re warm as they try to make their way underneath yours, a silent plea for you to let go of the fabric clutched in your hand.
“I already told you” your hand lets go at last and slips easily from underneath his touch, the silk of your carefully picked cocktail dress wrinkled already.
“You feel guilty about me dropping all my plans, coming all the way here, beng perfect and nice to everyone, spending so much money…” he’s being playful but the teasing doesn’t elicit the eye roll or chuckle he was hoping he’d get. Your head just hangs lower, chin almost pressing to your chest, as if you’re trying to curl into yourself.
“About that, you’re gonna accept a complete refund. Train tickets, this room, wedding gift, everyth—”
Levi cuts you off by grabbing your jaw and turning your head towards him, eyes narrowed in a familiarly impatient gaze. He can’t believe the nonsense you’re sputtering out, the weird formality of it all.
“Stop that” his voice vibrates with determination and words are forced to die in your throat as he inches closer, grip loosening ever so slightly “you keep looking at things and seeing the opposite of what they are”
“So what, you didn’t spend a fortune to be here?” you challenge and he sighs, as done as a person can humanly be.
He lets go of your jaw but you don’t pull back.
“You asked me to be here”
“And I’m trying to apologize for it!”
God, you’re wearing him out.
You get up from the couch and, out of frustration, rest your back against the railing, palms behind you pressed on the cold, metal edge. Levi is looking at you so intensely you’re tempted to turn around and just take the view in to calm yourself because this is going downhill enough to become a fight and fights with Levi are never pretty. You should know.
“Remember the reasons you put forward to try and convince me to come?” his calm tone is such a sharp contrast to his hardened features, it takes you by surprise.
“Pretty sure I called myself lame and pathetic quite a few times” you shoot him a frown.
“Yeah” he gets up as well “then I end up actually getting here and guess what I found?”
You let out a dry laugh, one with not an ounce of humor embedded in it.
“A version of me worse enough to be brought in your room to hide?”
Two well measured steps and Levi is in front of you right as you cross your arms in defense.
“The version of you I already know” he retorts, exasperated “beautiful, intelligent, clumsy. A functional adult with a family that loves her very much”
“You’re drunk” you breathe out but it’s yours the head that’s spinning. Somehow, Levi knows. At least that’s what you guess when he steps closer, arms effectivey caging you against the railing as he slightly leans forward.
“Hardly” he mutters, pensive, and you swear his eyes flicker to your lips for a second “you don’t see things for what they are. I didn’t see a perfect ex, just a self entitled asshole. Didn’t meet hypercritical family members, just old-school people who are unyielding in their affection for you. I could’ve stayed home, honestly, you seem to be bothered by me the most”
“I’m not bothered by you, don’t be fucking stupid” you blurt out, saliva levels down to zero at this point. What is he even doing? Why is he so close, why does he smell so nice and where the fuck is that wedding gift?
“Ah, there she is” Levi offers a soft smile “had me missing her all night”
He then moves a strand of hair away from your forehead and the pads of his fingers linger on your temple, then barely graze your skin as they travel all the way down to your cheek and along your jaw.
You’re unfamiliar with this version of him. It’s a version that compliments the one that’s met your family and friends, the wedding date you’ve been lucky enough to score. This version knocks the wind out of your lungs and has your knees weak.
But then something happens, the snap of invisible fingers and, just like that, the magic wears out. Your skin is left burning and his arms set you free as he takes a step back and shoves his hands in his pockets.
“I had a good time so enough with your guilt-ridden bullshit”
You’re barely able to catch your breath, still dizzy from the change of the overall mood. Perhaps he’s right and you’re the drunk, hallucinating one.
Levi slides the balcony door again but goes back inside first this time, leaving you little to no time to pull yourself together or calm the pounding of your heart. He collects no envelope from the nightstand before you both leave the room, a burning sensation churning in your stomach as you follow him down the hallway, feeling utterly boneless when you stop in front of the elevator. Maybe that Petra girl did have a point.
“There’s still one thing you probably haven’t noticed about me” right as a ding echoes in the empty hallway he turns his head to look at you, standing a few feet behind “I’m a terrible fucking liar. Wouldn’t convince anyone if I tried”
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lunarharp · 1 year ago
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"Found out" set in kind of a made-up chapter where the girls are in trouble, or something.
#witch hat tag#orufrey#i hate having a strong cinematic image in your mind for months..working hours on it..& at the end looking you have to be like “Sure. :/"#i'm especially unsatisfied with the beginning and the end and how i can't get eyebrows to work as i want#but i dont care any more... this is probably the comic that has given me the most trouble ever i just dont care#i barely even care whatsoever if anyone even sees this..Ugh..but at least i can move on to the next era now#i'm just annoyed i cant get out good enough my image of qifrey flinching bc he thinks oru will hit him but then he is not hit#i feel like sensei will do something along these lines. i want to see what she will do.#there are also other variations i have in my mind. i just want to know#i just don't want it to happen with qifrey on his deathbed or something. but it possibly will. I DONT EVEN KNOW.#i have another very cinematic image in my mind for something sort of along those lines which i will do soon. it never ends...#btw after this is probably my fics. yeah.... i think it has to be my fics. jasmine sort of goes along these lines#i need that space for dialogue. look - i'm a writer. this is HARD for me. so i am really glad i had the space and freedom of words#to process all the feelings. but i tried to get something out in a quick visual space too. <- me defending myself to myself at cai court#anyway going along the lines of 'Jasmine' - they talk this out and argue and cry and oru pushes the hat at him and tells him#why not just erase every memory i have of you then. That would be easier for us all wouldn't it?#they kiss and sob and kiss and lie outside in the flowers for many hours in that one. and then there's 'Deep End' where it turns out#way way way way more time and words is needed for this actually and that's upsetting for everyone.#the destruction of the hat is certainly another path to take. Can you make this work without that hat going up in flames?#something you have always had and have been clinging to will have to be destroyed. You have to lose something now. This is the crux qifrey#I CANT GET IT OUT IN ONE COMIC!!! I CANT DRAW IT OUT!!!! I NEEDED THOSE FICS!!!! PRAISE WORDS!!!! whatever im going to have dinner now
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shima-draws · 1 year ago
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Me: Oh god. It's time for our company's yearly performance review. Where my boss will judge my performance over the past year and see how awful I am at my job and--
My boss: You're doing such a great job and I'm so happy you're here <3
Me:
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l0ganberry · 11 months ago
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@truelazymaker
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For the long wait, I decided to make a mini comic of him having help finding his legs. And then having his sweet angel on helping him reattach his legs. I hope you like this and thank you for the request.
There's a couple left of unfinished requests, but I'll still more if you want to request something that relates to Dogday. You can go to this >post< to put in your request, or send an ask to me.
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turtlemagnum · 8 months ago
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when i was younger and hung out around my uncle a lot more than i do now, i remember whenever he referred to things regarding his native heritage, he always just called it "indian". called himself an indian, called the words he taught us indian, so on. since i was a little kid who didn't know any better, i didn't know that "indian" in the context of indigenous americans was a very broad, frankly bastardized term to paint a vast variety of cultures spanning two whole damn continents with one brush. it only occurred to me as i got much older than i was at the time that there'd be more than one "indian" language, and up until now since i had no idea what tribe(s) he even is i couldn't even begin to know where to look unless i found a download of every goddamn interlingual dictionary available and painstakingly checked every godddamn one for what their word for "thunder" is
the word he taught us meant thunder was hiloha. i didn't even know how to spell it until now, because he only ever said it aloud. literally just a few minutes ago, i decided to ask my grandma (his sister) if we knew what tribe(s) he belonged to. and apparently he's a mix of choctaw and makah. which gave me a lead, which led to me finding a dictionary on libgen, which led to me word searching "thunder" in the choctaw to english dictionary. it's the only word i remember him teaching us, and i'm unsure if he ever tried teaching us others. but it was his dogs name, and he was a damn good boy, so i remembered it clear as day. though, they normally shortened it to "hilo".
so, i guess what came out of this is that i now know a bit more about my uncle's heritage, and where to look for more research. so, if you're gonna have a takeaway from this, i'd appreciate it if you remembered the word "hiloha". it means thunder. and aside from being the name of a very good boy who deserves to be remembered, i think it's even more important to remember the histories, cultures, and of course the languages of all the indigenous folks who came before us and did their damndest to preserve their cultures in spite of it all.
#honestly a bit unsure if he was just simplifying it all down for us little idiot kids or not#regardless i think it's an important memory to keep alive#writing this up got me thinking about my time spent over at his place when i was real young. we spent a thanksgiving or two over there#both him and his wife were alcoholics at the time. she probably still is but she's been out of their lives for a while#i remember huddling in the corner with my cousin and my mom while they both fought. i distinctly remember her slapping him over the head#with a TV remote. not a very happy thanksgiving that one#it occurred to me while remembering this that there's definitely some kind of bitter irony to a white woman abusing a native man and his so#on thanksgiving. not even mentioning just a (mostly) native family having a bad thanksgiving in general. a bitter memory all around#god she was a cunt. talked shit about welfare queens and people on food stamps while me and my mom bought her food with our food stamps#claimed to be a vegetarian because how much she loved animals but still regularly ate bacon#i definitely don't remember my uncle being perfect in that relationship but i also definitely remember her being far worse#i'm almost certain it was mutual abuse but there's definitely a reason why my uncle's still in my cousin's life and mother isn't#aside from the fact that she did in fact abandon them and start a new family#as far as i know my uncle's recovered from his alcoholism and she hasn't. which itself wouldn't be a sin if she wasn't also naturally just#nasty piece of vaguely human looking garbage even without the alcohol#the way i understand it alcohol usually doesn't change who a person is at their core. it just amplifies who they already are#my grandpa's a very loving man and while i've never seen him get outright drunk i'm told he's very sweet and cuddly#saying this feels like a bit of a blanket statement but i definitely feel like for the most part if someone is an abusive piece of shit#while drunk they're also a lot more likely to be an abusive piece of shit sober#i've heard that some people are sweet and kind sober and turn nasty when drunk. i've never seen that firsthand but i'm sure it's entirely#possible. i can't speak whether it actually reveals who they really are or what. i'm not a psychologist#im rambling. oh well!#i'm glad that my cousin and uncle seem to be in a better place now. got their shit together#that's what matters
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fridayyy-13th · 2 years ago
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various doodles of chapter 7 of the wonderful fic We Start With Small Talk by @three-magpies-in-a-trenchcoat that i did while trying not to be sad about chapters 10 and 11 (everyone go read it right now it's so so good)
[ids in alt]
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(also, fun note about the skirts: the skirt with the clouds is what i initially pictured jon wearing, and the gray skirt is what magpie had planned! i couldn't decide which i liked more, so i figured why not draw both :D)
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lemoncake438 · 2 years ago
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How do u know if its love or mental illness?
#I'm so fucked up in the head#so glad I have therapy later#love#bpd#bipolar#fawn response#like ugh I am so fucking afraid of myself#I take a look at my past 3 relationships and I have absolutely devastated all three of them and I don't want to hurt anyone else#but I'm literally 3 for 3 in the ruining lives department and like okay yeah 1 and 2 eventually got over it and moved on but what if 3#never does? I mean I guess its all so new and raw but like I feel so awful. I feel like I'm never allowed to love again until I can like#not hurt people? but I think we are all always gonna hurt people. ugh love is so stupid I wish I could just turn it off!!#I wish I could just rip it out of my chest and fucking kill fucking beat the shit out of my heart so it never dares to feel or want again#and then I get surprised when I tell people that and they look at me like they're going to cry#why in the world should I be allowed to love?? when it clearly does so much damage??#and then its worse right because then when I love someone I google the symptom of every fucking mental illness imaginable. bpd. bipolar.#adhd. autism. you name it I've searched it. and like I have bipolar so then I start invalidating my own love. I tell myself things like#oh youre just manic and thats making you think that this person is in love with you. oh you're just manic you think you are the center of#everyone's universe. oh you're just manic you aren't actually happy around them they just enable your ugly illness#and then like the things in question that are making me think this as like totally valid and normal things#like oh you're just manic you think they love you- my brother in christ they remember the smallest details about me and always know how to#make me laugh. we can't lock eyes longer than a few seconds before we both smile etc etc etc#but then it gets analytical- you know? bc then my brain is like ok we have to disprove our own personal bartholomuel that nafty brainworm#but you cant logically analyze something like love I don't think#right and then like I'm so deep in this hole of analyzing I start running the simulations of all the damage I'll do if/when it ends poorly#because I'm a piece of shit and I always always always go stir crazy and lose myself in it and panic and try to run and then bury my own#personality and wants and needs bc I want so badly to be loved I subconsciously shape shift myself into their ideal partner#right okay so then I'm minmaxing it- I'm speed running the imaginary relationship in my brain start to finish every single day and living#in a fake scenario where we break up every single day thousands and thousands of times over and none of that even happened#its like- because I have to prove to myself that its pure and genuine love and not mental illness or attachment or pure lust allows this#evil part of my brain to just take over and go hog wild torturing me with all these awful situations that don't even exist!!
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therevengeoffrankenstein · 20 hours ago
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just finished season 2 of arcane :(
#myevilposts#arcane#spoilers for season 1 below and some mild spoilers for season 2.#personally i liked how jayvik turned out. pretty much all of the main women got the short end of the stick though huh.#like i'm really glad mel is a playable character now and i really love her but uhh.#i don't know if i really like what they're leaving up in the air about her going back to noxus like that?#and the caitvi was like yeah :) until i was like oh this just reads as sequel bait.#to the show that said this is the end.#like are they really going to continue this story elsewhere? because caitvi and mel's arcs both didn't feel finished.#and despite the fact that i feel like they were hinting at jinx's fate the entire season it still didn't feel earned or even#all that climactic. like comparing it against what happened with like silco it just doesn't work that well.#also the amount of silco in this season felt so weird. like i love the guy and i wish i could say that i wish he didn't die.#but his death was thematically and narratively resonant enough that i think it kinda mattered and the show wouldn't be the same without it.#HOWEVER. with the amount he is still featured in season 2 i feel like maybe they felt like they weren't totally finished with him#(which like. fair.) and that maybe they regretted killing him off because of how great he is.#like they gave him a monologue to express this kinda weird imagined closure to his ambitions that he didn't actually get to#see. and i guess that makes sense because jinx did become that closure that she would imagine silco changing.#i could be cynical and say they just killed silco off so they wouldn't have to deal with him trying to make zaun a better place#so they could keep a status quo in place.#but *spoilers* jinx actually does somewhat topple that status quo and we end the season with zaun and piltover#being on some of the most equal footing we've ever seen. but it still kinda feels that way.#and one these season 2 character deaths (the one i mentioned before that felt unearned) just has like. none of that#going for it. like. okay. it mattered in that one scene as an act of martyrdom/to parallel another act of martyrdom in s2#to prove this character is totally totally unselfish now but i think this character already repeatedly showed that this season and like.#didn't need to die like that. i felt like it was kinda for shock value because OMG MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH !#and i think to be like 'but sometimes people just die irl so why wouldn't a show reflect that / it's realistic'#as if up until this point pretty much every major character death has had HUGE plot implications.#like why would they cry realism. now.#but i did like how jayvik turned out. the show could've and should've handled disability/ableism vs class privilege better#and made it a more overt theme because it is prevalent but doesn't get touched on explicitly nearly enough.
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adara-et-al · 1 month ago
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well. *i* think my response to having something mildly ominous said before the house was left empty and everyone i love is out on the road was actually completely reasonable and the sobbing breakdown in the kitchen because i didn't get to say "I love you" to any of them before they left home was more than well within my rights. It's not like i could do anything if something happened, even without a warning.
gonna blame my dad specifically for this one, and the way he handled fights with my mom when i was little. we're gonna add on the more than once i was left somewhere after pickup time because they were running late and i didn't know why but i knew one of the reasons it could be was Real Real Bad (currently superstitious, scared of invoking problems). Did it ever turn out it was that way? no but that didn't fucking stop me from assuming it could be.
if you're reading this and know who i am, if you could just leave a little explainer by your ominous goodbye statements, especially if you're leaving them before i've woken up, that'd be great.
#god i'm so glad only like 2 people follow this blog#and neither of you are the problem btw but also if you find yourself needing to leave an ominous statement#before you go off to what you perceive to be your certain doom#if you could just like give context as to what the hell is going on so i know exactly how hard i need to worry actually that'd be nice#and thank you in advance for doing so#i understand circumstances may not allow but it turns out i have a LOT of trauma around not getting to say goodbye the last time i talk to#someone - or the potentiality of it anyway#like. weeping in the kitchen even though i am currently relatively certain it was an overreaction on the initial person's part#because what if they're right now it's them AND our partner#who are in danger#and the other other person is *also* out of the house right now so i'm ALONE#and the cats DO NOT CARE#and i am going to remain terrified until everyone is home safe again tonight#and there's probably going to be fallout for this the rest of the fucking week#because i'm FINALLY fucking able to be surrounded by people who love me and what if that gets taken away#because i'm not allowed to have it#i'm not allowed to have nice things or people who love me be near me#either they eventually hate me and leave or something bad happens and they can't come back#and i... i'm so scared#and it's not fucking fair that i can't like get angry about it#because i am angry! i'm so fucking angry! how dare you send somethign like that and not expect someoen who lives with you#to be cool finding that right after they wake up before you get home??#even if i hadnt' seen it RIGHT at waking up just before everyone left like#i still would have seen it before anyone had a chance to get home safely like????#but i understand what happened and why it happened the way it did#but also *fuck* man#my OCD is bad enough ESPECIALLY around potential ''abandonment" situations#i don't need ominious goodbyes before you leave the house to get on the highway#my dad almost didn't come back from the highway that one time#a lot of people don't come back from the highway
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inbabylontheywept · 2 months ago
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the fine and subtle art of arguing with old men
it was a good week for testing which meant it was a slow week for me. most of my job is fixing the machine when it goes down. if it doesn't go down, i don't have much to do. 
fortunately neither did marc. in a site full of ornery old bastards, he's the oldest and the orneriest, so it goes without saying that i enjoy spending time with him. he reminds me of my grandpa. hell, he reminds me of a lot of people. i've befriended enough grumpy old men that i've got a sort of momentum to it now - you know how it is, when you meet someone that reminds you of someone else you really like. you get to start that friendship off half built, because you already have an idea of how to like that guy, and some of that old warmth can be brought to the new friendship. a little ember to start the stove up with.
(i think that's one of the really undersold beauties of getting older. you stop viewing people as strangers and more like remixes of friends.)
anyway, i was sitting next to marc and we were talking about the future. i've got my eye on having kids sometime soon (year or two? hopefully?), and he's very happy for me. i've tried asking him for advice, but all he says is that he didn't do a great job with his own kids and they still turned out okay, so i should stress less and trust myself more. i hope he's right. he believes it, at least, and it's a hell of a thing to have the faith of an old man. his faith is hard won.
as for his plans, he's retiring at some point in the next six months, and is hoping to sell his home and buy something in florida. he's republican, so he views the state as paradise, and i'm not inclined to even try talking him out of it. it's his dream, you know? i know for a fact my paradise would be a lot of people's hell. life's funny like that.
still, we kept going on, and it was a good time, and then he reminisced about the last time he got close to quitting - back around 2020. our job required getting vaxxed, and he refused, and there was a big kerfuffle about it before the job actually backed down. i know there's not a lot of sympathy for the unvaxxed out here, but the man's 62. you get the shot when you're under 30 to protect the people around you, but when you're over 60, you're just getting it to protect yourself and it's hard to be mad at someone for kicking their own ass. 
still gave me pause though. i knew he wasn't going to take it well, but half the job of collecting curmudgeons is keeping them around, so i said 
hey. i'm sorry they bent your arm over it, but.
but. 
you should really get that shot. 
and he looked over at me, and i looked at him, and he actually spat. not on me, just the concrete, but it was enough to show that he was mad. then he walked away, as abrupt as anything.
i felt bad about it. i wasn't sure what i'd expected, when he was willing to lose his job over it before, but i'd been so invested in his dream of retirement - the idea of him sipping margaritias on a beach next to his wife, the wife he calls every day during lunch, the wife he says is the one thing in life he ever got right on the first try. the wife that almost divorced him back when he was in the airforce because he just wasn't home enough. 
(but he can be home now.) 
and then he mentioned the vax thing, and it was like seeing a pin hit a balloon. he works out every day and takes all sorts of crazy vitamins and is generally committed to getting the most out of his pension and his life. i didn't want this dumb weak point to be his achilles heel. 
---
i wasn't actually sure how long marc would be mad at me. i've seen him stay mad at some people for weeks. i wasn't sure if being friends would make that time go up or down. 
it went down. i'm glad it went down. 
he stopped being mad about two days later. we were doing front end maintenance one morning, and it was just that simple mechanical rhythm - hex key, replace the anode sheets, punch some off-gassing holes, oil it up, put it back in - that put things at ease. it always does. people working there are too busy to remember grudges, and it has this sort of mandatory practical communication that helps smooth things over. it was going great, and then out of the blue he said babs, you gotta be careful giving advice. those shots come with complications. what would you do if i got that shot, had a stroke, and died? 
and i don't know what answer he was expecting, but i just told him the truth, which is that i would be devastated. i'd feel like i killed him. i thought that was a pretty normal response, but he looked taken aback. he asked why i said it then, and i said i'd have felt the same if he died of covid. that's just life. sometimes, there's no way forward that doesn't risk some kind of regret. 
we finished the tube after that, in a silence that felt heavier than peace but lighter than anger. it felt like the ball was back in marc's court. like it would be rude to take that turn from him. 
we parted ways with a nod and didn't speak until the next day. 
---
i was doing spreadsheet work when he found me again. standard paper engineering - thinking of things we might need and ordering them in batches, months ahead of time. it always feels a little like plugging holes in a dam with my fingers. 
but he popped up, and we didn't even exchange pleasantries. he just said i'm gonna die one day, and you can't blame yourself for that. 
which is a hell of a thing to just tell someone right off the bat. 
so i said what 
and he said babs, i am in my 60s. something is gonna get me eventually, and whether it's covid or heart disease, or a stroke, there will be something you could have said or done before. and that's okay. it's not your job to make me live forever. 
and you know, he actually made a lot of sense. so i said 
okay. 
i'll keep your business yours. i just
you were talking about your retirement before this. and i want that for you very much. you've worked hard for 45 years, and you deserve a break. we're getting to sick season, and it would be the saddest fucking thing in the world if you got this close to winning the race then tripped in the last ten feet. 
and we sat there a few moments longer. i wasn't sure what to say, and i wasn't sure what he'd say, but eventually he just shrugged and said
yeah 
then he left. i figured that would be the end of it. 
---
i did front end maintenance yesterday, after being gone a week. it's one of my favorite things to do. i like working with my hands. i really like working with my hands. i'm glad i went to college, but in a different life, i think i could've made a better electrician than an electrical engineer. 
and at one step, when we were both hoisting the plate back onto the machine, his sleeve rode up, and i saw two bandaids on his arm. 
we finished the install, and i was ready to go back when marc actually stopped me. 
i got the shot, he said, almost embarrassed. like he'd been caught. and i knew he was gonna say something dumb about it, so i just cut him off by giving him a hug. 
i was relieved. hugging old men is kind of like picking up cats. if they like you a lot, they'll tolerate it, but that's about it. we sat there maybe three beats before his hands went up, and then he gave me one overly-hard thump on the back. in my experience, this is how old men tell you that they're done, so i let him go.
carla talked me into it, he said, almost defensive. his wife. his one good decision.
tell her i said thanks, i said back.
trump got the shot too, he said, less defensive, but oddly pleading. like he was consoling himself.
like he was nervous.
then it's gotta be safe, i said, and he looked up at me, strangely searching, strangely vulnerable. i don't know exactly what he was looking for, but i guess he found it because after a few moments his shoulders relaxed.
yeah, he said, one hand on the back of his head.
it's gotta be.
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mad-hunts · 5 months ago
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as far as jack could tell, jervis was really out of it; and it made him wonder it was due to something that had happened while he was out with his father, or when they'd gotten here. perhaps both. jack gnawed on his bottom lip, his eyes darting to jervis's hands, which were flexing like he was struggling with something. an eyebrow rose as jack contemplated asking whether he needed some pain medication.
since he didn't receive an answer to his question yet, jack figured he might as well introduce himself. ❝ uhh, well, you don't have to talk to me if you aren't feeling up to it. my sister told me that you fainted in front of her out there — so, i understand if you're still feeling sick. my name is jack, ❞ he scratched at the back of his neck as he continued to observe jervis. whenever the man tried to get up, jack approached him and was about to caution jervis that maybe he shouldn't by lightly touching his shoulder.
but he remembered matilda telling him something about the other really not liking to be touched, so he merely was going to verbally tell him. up until jervis laid back down himself, anyhow. jack couldn't hold himself back from frowning at his poor present state before venturing out of the room with a 'i'll be right back.' and indeed he had been, with two different vials, alongside a few syringes to inject into that IV bag: should jervis want to be medicated. jack figured it'd be easier to just do that rather than forcing him to swallow anything.
he placed those also on the table before tilting his head at the quote jervis had said until it clicked a few seconds later, ❝ that's a quote from through the looking glass, isn't it? and one that the red queen said in the story if i remember correctly. she was basically teaching alice that staying in the same place is falling behind, right? ❞ jack squinted his eyes at that before a thought came to mind. a soft snort left him, but one that was done of an innocent sort of amusement rather than malice. ❝ that is a kind of roundabout way of talking about survival of the fittest. but hey, lewis carroll was all about the whimsy of things, i guess. and its no big deal. ❞
jack pretended not to see the tears that the other shed for jervis's own sake. the blood on his lips was something he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried, though. jack grabbed a washcloth from his pack and held it out towards's jervis's hand. once it was out of his hand was when jack set down that teacup, the slightly too long stripped pants he wore swaying across the ground. ❝ mm, you and dad were both asleep for nearly four hours. sure — i don't think that's silly at all. i keep something on me all the time from when my brother, julien, was still around. ❞ the bracelet he showed the other on his right wrist then seemed to be made up entirely of tiny conch shells.
julien was a big fan of the sea, which jack thought made his death all the more crushing. after seeing the state that the stuffed animal was in, he figured that that bunny must've been really loved; though it didn't really matter by whom it was. the end result was the same, as love changes you. jack knew this well as he'd never wanted anything more than to be embraced by the warmth of it.
he quickly shook that thought off, only to grab the two vials he got from the fridge once more. ❝ eh... the four hours actually went by rather fast. ❞ jack cleared his throat then, �� you know, i couldn't help but notice that you aren't looking so hot still, and so i grabbed some meds for you. but i won't force you to take them. i have a pain reliever as well as something that relieves vertigo. are either, or both of these, something you want? ❞
Eigengrau.
A faint hum buzzed in his ears; his mouth was so dry it felt like he’d swallowed a wad of wool.
The thin sheet beneath him brushed his fingertips as Jervis flexed his hands, cracking his eyes open a sliver. The room tilted, everything blurring at the edges. Ah… so he had fainted. Just as he’d suspected. No glasses, then.
"Hey. Ahh, you're awake… That's awesome. How are you feeling?"
The new voice was barely a whisper, young and uncertain—belonging to a boy, maybe sixteen or eighteen by the timber. Was this another of Barton's assistants, a friend of Matilda’s, or perhaps her brother? Jervis couldn’t quite remember; hadn't Barton mentioned something about having more than one child?
He winced, his body feeling heavy, leaden; aching everywhere. Slowly, he exhaled and tried to push himself upright—tried being the keyword. The effort brought only a wave of vertigo, dizzying and blue-hot, making his vision swim.
… ohh, god…
He swallowed thickly, curling into himself. Something wasn’t right. His glasses and gloves weren’t the only thing missing. He was in his socks, jeans, and a now damp charcoal t-shirt, his body slick with cold sweat. His graying auburn curls clung to his neck in tangled ropes. His boots were beside the cot, his messenger bag on a desk across the room. His overcoat and maroon button-down were draped over a chair.
A flicker of discomfort in his right arm. Burning. Tugging.
Jervis glanced down at the source: a plastic tube. A peripheral IV catheter.
"Ah, you know... 'It takes all the running you can do, to stay in the same place,'" he muttered, his voice clipped and hollow; Bermudian accent casual, almost detached. He turned his eyes to the boy; offered him a faint, strained smile. "Keeps things interesting, I suppose... but I appreciate your concern, lad."
He lifted his fingers to his cheek, feeling the moisture trickle down—salt on his lips. Tears, sharp and stinging. Jervis flinched and quickly scrubbed them away with the heels of his hands.
Cold metal pressed into his spine, tight around his neck—the chain with his and Sylvie’s wedding rings twisted against his skin. He must’ve been thrashing in his sleep. There was blood on his lips.
"Forgive me…" His vision swam as he watched the boy set a teacup on the small table beside the cot, just within view. "But I'm afraid I've rather lost my sense of time. How long has it been since I…?" He paused, his voice barely steady. "... if... if you don’t mind, could you please reach into my coat pocket? You'll find a small cuddly toy. A rabbit..." He rubbed his mouth, lowered his eyes. "It sounds foolish, I know... but it... it was my daughter's, you see..."
The boy nodded, moving quickly to retrieve the toy from Jervis’ coat pocket, and placed it on the table beside the teacup. The bunny was missing one of its button eyes, its white fur faded and matted. A pink satin ribbon around its neck was frayed and tattered.
“Thank you,” Jervis said hoarsely. “I must have been out of it for quite a while.”
#divingdownthehole#tw: mentions of child death.#tw: medication.#tw: illness.#ooh okay okay 👀 that song was also a really good listen while reading your reply! like GAH you are just so good at selecting songs-#that capture the vibes of your replies perfectly tbhhh. BUT hiii!! and aww well i was just telling you the truth about how i felt but#its no problem at all emi!!! and OMG really? honestly i didn't get that impression at all as i thought your reply perfectly described-#just how complex the effects of trauma on a person can be as characters are a reflection of real life people so it only makes sense-#that jervis's mind is just... so chocked full of images related to the things he's been through despite him not wanting to be reliving#these events or seeing them anymore you know? and i honestly can't blame him for seemingly not wanting to do either of those things as#recovery + healing isn't really ever a straight path as you pointed out there. thus i didn't think any of it was overdramaticized or#anything of that nature! so don't worry you're totally good with that!! but yeah jervis as a character has really been dealt a bad hand#in my opinion and that's really unfortunate because no one deserves having to lose their parents or lose their daughter ):#and jervis is at a spot in his timeline where he has still lost alice relatively recently right? so that's just. UGH i feel so bad for him#tbh as having to experiencing one of your kids dying sounds really terrible.#but AWW well thank you so much for saying so!! it makes me so happy to hear that you're always excited for them. but yeahhh-#trust me when i say their madness may be even worse when they're just amongst themselves unfortunately enough ahahhh... 🫠#but i'm so honored? that you were intrigued?? by my description of him??? like AHHH i'm giving you the biggest hug RN and i just-#want to say TYSM once more!!! but yes i'm not going to lie because jack + julien were basically like brothers before barton-#even came along jack was very attached to him and julien didn't like killing people either so he was sort of a good influence on him#which might be part of the reason why he is the way he is now TBH but sadly dysfunctional family dynamics often leave people#suffering in their own way from it as you said. but AHH thank you!! you're so sweet PLSSS like i'm glad that you find him interesting-#BC he is a good person at heart unlike barton but they contrast in a different way than say jervis and him would since he tries-#to live his life down the straight and narrow buttt that doesn't always happen for him. and yesss barton is back to bother everyone / hj#LOLLL but gosh you're right!! i think i remember you mentioning it back then :00 but yeah i did some casual research on on it when you-#mentioned the quote in your reply and i thought that the red queen hypothesis had something to do with darwin's survival of the fittest-#idea + it turns out that i was right so i am somewhat proud of myself for that NGL lmao but TBH that is just another example of you-#using such good character writing with jervis because subtext and nuance is like one of those things that i find hard to write sometimes#but what a character doesn't say is also just as important AS what they say so its interesting that you'd bring that up. but huh i never-#actually thought of it that way before but that does definitely seem to check out if i'm being honest. BC grief never truly goes-
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ssahotchnerr · 9 months ago
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fluffy aaron request !! reader is on a date that is going so bad when she gets called in for a case so she shows up in her like fancy date outfit and confides in hotch about her horrible date then he offers to make it up to her and takes her out when they get back <3 maybe there’s some room for slight jealous!aaron in there somewhere tehe
it's a date
there's always room for jealous!aaron 🤭 cw; fem bau!reader, mutual pining, a touch of nervous and jealous!aaron, brief standard cm case info, fluff <3
You were the last one to arrive at the BAU, departing from the far side of town and evening traffic to blame.
Consequently, you pulled stares the second you arrived within the roundtable room. Your presence was anticipated, for one, the sound of your heels clacking against the hard floor, and:
A low whistle exited Morgan.
"Look at you." He tossed out, a tickled grin spread wide across his face.
Your current attire was a dress; a fancier, slightly more risqué choice compared to your typical office wardrobe. It was a light beige, your hair was down your back in loose curls, makeup more enhanced than your usual routine. Aaron had to (internally) admit, you looked stunning.
"Hot date?"
"You could say that."
Aaron felt his jaw move. Clench, actually.
"Sorry for cutting your night short." He apologized, forcing his sentence out deep from inside his chest. He turned towards the screen, concealing himself.
"On the contrary," You eased yourself into your chair, eagerly accepting a file from Emily. "Thank you for cutting my night short."
"With this one, you may want to rethink that sunshine." Penelope clicked her remote, illuminating the screen with the latest case photos. "Ain't no rest for the wicked."
The team collectively ran through it quickly; a brutal family annihilator, decreasing cooling off period, the gravity of the situation heightening and a panicked town. Wheels up in 30 to Oklahoma.
As the others trailed out, Penelope hurrying to her bat cave, Aaron slowed his pace. He prolonged securing his files into his briefcase, zipping it shut, leaving only the two of you in the room.
Coincidentally, you weren't in too much of a rush either.
"That bad?"
You huffed in response as your eyes found his. He was met with a hardened, utter annoyance, instead of your familiar warm liveliness.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"There's not much to talk about." The bottom of your files hit the surface of the table, loudly, stacking the few evenly together. "The guy sucked. Interrupted me every second he could. I don't think the restaurant he picked was up to code either. Thank goodness I got the call before our food arrived." You shuddered lightly, in theatrics but also genuineness. "I'm greatly looking forward to pretending it never happened."
There was a carefree airiness within your voice - attempting to wave it off, the simple acceptance of one night gone bad - but small dismay was amongst your words.
"I'm sorry." While Aaron meant his apology wholeheartedly, he couldn't help but feel relieved, for his own selfish reasons. "But I am glad you narrowly escaped the potential food poisoning."
That pulled a laugh from you, agreeing. "But it's fine, really. I didn't want to go anyways, don't know why I did." You shrugged as you disrupted the continual, shared eye contact. While the tail end of your sentence was spoken lowly, it wasn't long lasting, picking up some enthusiasm. "How was your night going?"
"Jack and I were just settling down to watch a movie."
"Which one?"
"Shrek."
Your head tilted exasperatedly, face pulling into jealousy. "Really? How fun." You whined gently, wishing your night could have been spent with the two of them. Your preferred choice of company.
"Well, he wasn't too happy it was cut short." Aaron admitted, a loose, downhearted chuckle escaping.
"You'll make it up to him. Perhaps a multiple movie feature when we're back? Shrek, Shrek 2, Shrek the Third... maybe order some pizza too." You suggested, reaching out to touch his arm reassuringly with a gentle smile. "No matter, he'll be thrilled."
Sourcing from your touch, lightning bolts dashed within his arm, feverishly. Aaron soon found himself simply studying your face, falling on the silent side. You were just, you. Extraordinarily kind, beautiful you.
"C'mon, Dave told me if I was late to the tarmac once more, he'd tell the pilot to leave and I'd have to take a commercial." You joked. Although, a small part of you feared he'd stick to his promise.
"Yeah, like I'd let that happen." He rolled his eyes, amusedly shaking his head.
The bullpen was quiet; most had gone home, the overheard lights had dimmed, the team long out of earshot. As the two of you neared the glass doors - Aaron leading - there was an urgency heightening in his chest, mere seconds away from bursting. As if each step forward, he was losing precious time. Any hesitations on the temptations he had felt for months dissolved. Now or never.
"What about you?" He asked, sweetly but timidly, finding a sudden interest in the floor.
"What about me?"
"Who's going to make it up to you?"
"Well," That caught you in a bit of surprise, your feet halting. Aaron turned, his eyes lifting. "That's a million dollar question right there. I don't see anyone lining up to take me on some extravagant outing, do you?" You forced out a laugh, your cheeks fairly blushing.
"Maybe," Aaron replied, his voice wavering with a touch of nervousness. It was rather endearing, seeing him so adorably flustered. "Perhaps the person you're looking for is right in front of you. Figuratively, at that."
A rather charmed expression formed on your face. Eyes brightening, lips pursing upwards, "Are you asking me out?"
"I'm trying." He confessed, his boyish expression just as light as yours. "So, tell me. How am I doing?"
"How about this," You spoke slowly, attempting to suppress the butterflies in your own stomach, hoping to maintain some composure within your answer. "Your next available night after your movie marathon with Jack, I'm completely and all yours."
All yours. He could get used to that.
"It's a date."
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