#but it just comes out as the automatic response

[mysunshinetemptress]

Smarter

Leah Williamson x reader

Warnings: Long, mentions of smut but not really, crappy writing

Leah thinks she’s smart, or at least that she has outsmarted you. You don’t know, no you can’t know there is no way on earth you know she’s careful so so careful.

She leaves the car in the park across the street, she only goes during certain times, when she’s going for a run, 6pm on weekdays and 9 am on the weekends.

Leah doesn’t venture out that way any other time unless it’s with you, when you beg and plead to go for a stroll around the park, hands intertwined together as you talk and talk. Do you ever stop talking ? She thinks to herself one day as you walk around the park.

Leah’s not paying attention not that she does anymore because she only agrees to go to the park mid afternoon on the weekends when she knows SHE’S out running, running around the park that you’re walking in. The park you picture your kids running around in at the same time Leah tracks HER with her eyes watching HER run closer to you both.

You don’t suspect a thing Leah thinks, no she knows you don’t suspect anything, she’s careful. She doesn’t wear perfume, she makes sure SHE isn’t wearing perfume, no lipstick nothing that could leave a mark nothing that could leave a scent that you could pick up on.

She ensures her stuff is folded neatly her wedding band placed on top, so that she isn’t missing anything, so that she doesn’t accidentally take anything, she fleeces her pockets making sure nothing has been left in them.

It happened once, SHE thought she was being cute, sexy even leaving HER red thong tucked into Leah’s coat pocket, Leah had only found it as she got into the car and it fell out onto the seat.

They had their first argument then. “I’m married, you can’t be giving me your knickers thinking it’s sexy, if my wife finds out that I…” SHE laughs “if she finds out what that you’re cheating on her.” It ends there, the argument. Leah swears to herself that she double checks everything before leaving the park.

Lying is easy for Leah now, it happens without a single thought, she can still remember the first time it happened. “God love your stats from your run are crazy did you sprint the entire time.” You know how long it takes her to run 5k, 10k even, of course you do you’ve played together forever but her stupid watch is going to get her caught she thinks. “I just wanted to push myself, you know I just..I wanted to prove to myself I could do it.” Leah hates the way your face softens, the way you automatically go into supportive mode, you remind her for the rest of the day how amazing she is, that she’s doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone not even herself. You hold her and tell her how amazing she is and she hates it.

But now it’s a second hand response she doesn’t think of it, doesn’t think twice of you caring for her that bit more, she doesn’t blink as it leads to more, she leads it to more every time and you go along with it, she needs this, your wife needs this and so you do it, and for a split second the world is alright.

She thinks she’s smart, that she never forgets to slip her ring back on, she tried to leave it on once but it felt so heavy and she panicked taking it off, it was her granny’s ring the one her grandpa gave to her on their wedding, she couldn’t do that to them, to the ring that had seen so much love.

Leah’s smart, she knows she’s smart but all it takes is one trip for the entire thing to come tumbling down.

She’s late home from running not by much but by enough that your suspicions arise, Leah doesn’t do late, early is late for Leah and so you wonder what takes her so long, she rush’s in moments later apologies thrown left and right and she pulls you into a heated kiss.

You want to tell her, you can’t wait to tell her but she’s all frazzled and not paying attention and if you say it now it won’t be as special and she’s not wearing her ring.

Wait she’s not wearing her ring, “Le darling where is your ring.” Leah freezes slightly before you watch her hand reach into her pocket pulling it out “sorry I took it off i think my fingers swelling from that handball in practice and I didn’t want it to get stuck.” You soften holding out your hand “oh Le I’ll get you some ice.” Leah hands over her ring and watch’s you slip it on top of your own so that you don’t lose it.

Leah sits down watching you walk around the kitchen, pulling you in to stand between her legs before pulling you into a kiss, “will you stop I have to pee” you hit her playfully before heading out the kitchen.

This isn’t Leah’s ring, it’s to light, sure it’s similar but it’s not it, you know this for a fact and as you slip it off and check for the engraving your heart drops, her grandparents initials aren’t on it, both your initials aren’t on it, it’s not her wedding ring.

Maybe she just misplaced it and is to scared to tell you. But it’s her granny’s ring, Leah loves that ring more than anything and she’s probably devastated that it’s gone.

Leah’s panicking she knows it’s not her ring and if she knows you definitely know. But she doesn’t expect you to come back so soft and understanding, “it’s ok we’ll find it where was the last place you had it.” HER house Leah thinks “eh-eh training I-I think I’m sorry darling I just I don’t know what to do.” That night ends like every night ends these days, and you think now is the perfect time to tell her in the darkness of your room but Leah just drops to the side and turns over whispering a goodnight as you stare at her.

You feel dirty every time this happens, you feel like a gross one night stand the way she turns away from you instead of pulling you closer like she used to but you put down to her being upset about her ring the same way you put it down to something else bothering her every time you end up in this situation.

Leah thinks she’s outsmarted you but as you lay there in bed reeling from the fact your wife hasn’t held you after sex in months, hasn’t told you how much she loves you as she brings you to climax and you can’t help but feel your heart grow heavy.

But as you lie there you can’t help but reply every possible reason why she’s like this, why she has been like this for a while now.

She does her daily runs, you guys go for your walks hand in hand as you talk the ear off her, but she’s never complained, Leah watches others pass you both by, this one girl runs past you both every weekend like clock work, you have noticed this a while ago and although you used to think it was a coincidence you’re starting to think otherwise.

She runs past you both every weekend always smiles at you, or at Leah more like, Leah’s hand gets lighter in your own every time, her grip isn’t as firm you think as you recall every walk in the park.

Leah doesn’t talk, she listens and watches, she watches her run around the park while you walk beside her.

Leah always gets a little weird after her runs, she’s more touchy, more soft, quieter, you thought it was just from the long runs. But now you second guess it.

Her ring is the first thing she’s misplaced tho you think to yourself, maybe that was at the training ground.

But you both tore it up the day after and found nothing and the Arsenal girls were none the wiser on it’s whereabouts. Leah goes for her run again that night and you feel this dread seep into your bones.

You feel sick to your stomach when the pieces all click in together, when you’re walking in the park Leah’s hand laced with yours, you try to stay normal talking about anything and everything but you stutter as SHE runs past and smiles at you, this time right at you not Leah, YOU.

Your eyes don’t stay on her face very long instead they are drawn to the gold circle resting on the chain around her neck, your eyes widen and you stop momentarily if Leah wasn’t holding your hand she wouldn’t have noticed it but she is and she did and she freezes too.

It’s on HER necklace, Leah’s wedding band is on that girls necklace and you feel nauseous as you try to continue your walk. Your wifes wedding ring is around that random girls neck, you know why but you don't want to-she's cheating, no she can't be she loves you, you're the love of her life, the one she wants everything with she's said so herself.

Leah’s cheating on you and it’s so plainly obvious now as you think back to it all, the first time you checked for her phone’s location and it said it was at a house across from the park, “oh it just give you a general location it’s not precise love.”

“I love you.” She whispers as she holds you from behind, “I know you do Le, and I’m so proud of you for beating your personal best but you don’t have to push yourself so hard, you’re perfect.”

“Yeah we could do dinner what time suits you guys.” You say happily excited to join Beth and Viv on a double date “6pm work.” Beth asks but before you can respond Leah shakes her head “sorry mate no can do, it’s my running time can we do after like 7:30 ?.” Beth looks at you then back at Leah “can’t you just skip it mate.” “No I have a schedule and I’m not changing it for you.”

You tap the table nervously “yeah we could do 8:45 am on Saturday, let me just say it to Leah.” “Leah.” You shout smiling as the older girl pokes her head around the door “they can fit us in at 8:45 on Saturday morning that works right.” Leah thinks for a moment torn, “I can’t baby it’s my running time remember.” You feel your heart drop “but it’s our check up to see if it’s taken Le surly you can just go after.” Leah shakes her head “do they have any other time.” You sigh “hi sorry ehm do you have anything else, 2pm Monday.” You look to Leah for confirmation she nods happily before disappearing back into the sitting room.

All the times she’s been consistent with her runs in that stupid park, her watch alerting you to the fact she has finished a workout shortly before 6:30 but she won’t be home till 7:10, her inability to hold you during sex anymore cause that’s all it is it’s just sex not making love like she used to say and it’s that silly circle hanging around that random girls neck that sets it all together. All the stupid pieces.

You don’t know what to do, don’t know how to bring it up this isn’t supposed to go like this, your life, your marriage but it is and you’re terrified of the aftermath so so terrified that you don’t realise how numb you’ve gone till you speak up.

Leah’s sat on the couch you’re tucked into her side “she’s gorgeous.” You say suddenly Leah hums in confusion “who’s gorgeous darlin.” You let out a shaky breath “the girl you’re sleeping with.” Leah goes tense immediately “I-i-wha-i Leah splutters trying to find the words “what girl.” You continue on your voice calm but still unsteady “the girl who wears your wedding ring around her neck”

Leah knows she’s lost now but it doesn’t help that her phone starts to ping with an in coming message “I-Y/n-I.” You shake your head getting up “I’m going out, I-i don’t know why, I don’t want to know why anymore I’m just, I can’t believe that you did after everything.”

Leah doesn’t move as you walkout still her mouth opens and closes trying to fathom I lie to rope you back in but her mind blank and you’re no longer in the garden.

Leah doesn’t hear from you for a week after that no idea if you’re ok. She doesn’t hear from anyone and instead off running away to the park SHE comes over Leah swears it’s to comfort her through this hard time but there is very little talking involved.

Leah doesn’t hear from you or anyone to caught up in her new bubble and it finally bursts as her mum crashes through the door “ you absolute idiot, you fucking idiot how did I raise you to be such an asshole that you would go and cheat on your wife.” Amanda’s attention is now turned to HER as she lies on your side of the bed “You are a fucking asshole Leah Williamson, I have never been so disappointed in you in my entire life.”

Leah’s lost still how did her mother know she hadn’t told her yet, sure she was going to but she was scared Amanda adores you, you’re perfect.

“I’ll be lucky if she lets me see the baby you asshole”

Baby ? Leah thinks, what baby. Suddenly it all comes back and SHES shoved away “She’s pregnant, Y/ns pregnant it-it worked”

Amanda huffs “you didn’t even know-you didn’t fucking know.” Leah shook her head “no.”

SHE lets out a huff running her hands over Leah’s arms “it’s ok baby we can have our own now, just like you promised.” And now it’s Leah’s turn to feel nausea. She never wanted kids with anyone else but you, this isn’t right, what she’s done to you to your future isn’t right but you’re gone and there’s nothing she can do about.

Leah’s smart but right now she’s the biggest idiot going. She’s lost you, lost you forever ?

[vaguely-concerned]

do you ever think about how, when we get lucanis' ossuary mind note on what he was thinking during the fireplace scene at the end of his recruitment mission... what's implied to be his instinctive internal reaction as he's saying "you'd have to kill me" out loud sure isn't 'and I don't want to die'. it's '(and spite would die)'. do you think spite's gremlin-y candle-hungering give-me-FIRE! >:D presence has maybe saved that guy's life even more times and in more ways than are immediately obvious at a glance. do you ever. cry.

it's also very. him that the thing that would stay his hand on killing himself partially might be that he just isn't willing to visit the same cruelty or harm on spite as zara, even when accepting his passenger spirit as collateral damage would at least offer a chance to put an end to his own pain, which at that point he seems unable to see any other way of truly escaping or find real relief from than to die. there's so much resentment and fear and other understandable fraught emotions in spite and lucanis' relationship early on, but it's just as clear that deep down lucanis conceptualizes spite as fundamentally innocent in what's happened here -- perhaps, indeed, more innocent than he manages to conceptualize himself until someone else can help him get in there and start to untangle it with him. he's protective of spite in some subtle ways right from the start, taking pains to point out several times on the jog through the ossuary that the spirits here were just as much victims in what was done to them as anyone else. when spite acts out during the fireplace scene... how much of lucanis brushing it off the way he does is about the '*actively bleeding from the eyes* don't worry about me' avoidant side of it all, and how much is him trying to shelter spite from the eyes of people he does not know well enough yet to predict how they’ll react in response — towards himself or spite. (additional idea to really bring on the heartache: do you think he has maybe intervened in pretty much the same way between illario and caterina over the years and that’s how he does it so smoothly and automatically; it’s basically psychological muscle memory. Haha. ow.) 

Between that and the pretty consistent language he uses that frames spite as child-like, even when he means that in frustration/enfant terrible flavoured terms lol, you get the sense that regardless of how much Lucanis is aware of this on the surface, there is a deep instinctive protectiveness in him for spite. I think that even comes across in the scene where lucanis tells you he’ll continue to pursue a way to separate him and spite on the minrathous route. So I was kind of picking up on/working with that already subconsciously, but when I found that note it hit me like a sledgehammer that clearly in some part at least, the reason lucanis is still here is that he knows now that spite would die with him and doesn’t find that price acceptable. Spite thinks that lucanis mentally locking himself in his (torture :() room and refusing to speak to him is an act of rejection or trickery, but to my eyes taken with everything else we know about how lucanis’ brain tends to work… as much as it’s an expression of avoidance and fear and overwhelm and trying to get away from the voice pushing him towards action when the mere prospect of action fills you with despair to even contemplate (“There’s nowhere to go”), I think it’s also a mark of lucanis’ affection and protectiveness of spite. The guards along the way make it very clear that more so than to keep the outside world from coming in, this place is for protecting people from what might break out. 

And that’s why I think this is also such a good case study to look at lucanis' internal freeze logic and why it has been so adaptive for him up until now when faced with completely impossible emotional situations to which there are no good answers or causes of actions available, even though it's inherently and unavoidably one of those 'what's worse, the medicine or the disease' solutions a brain cooks up. lucanis by the point of inner demons is facing this conundrum: 1) I can't live like this, it hurts too much. I've been in pain so long I’ve got screams where my blood should be and it just keeps getting louder, and nothing really touches or helps that. 2) I can't die to escape this, because that would also kill spite (and also I've got a job to do I guess *working 9-5 slowed with reverb and with underwater sound distortion effects is playing in the background*). those are of course not actually his only options, but in the state he's in they are the only options he can conceive of. (that's not infrequently how it works, when the suffering is that intense and unrelenting. Nothing gives you tunnel sight quite like ‘I just need this to stop’ agony that has gone on long enough to add sheer soul exhaustion to the mix)

so what happens in the end? his freeze brain -- honed, I'm sure, through many long years of attachment trauma and abuse and loss for exactly this kind of 'uh-oh. Incoming FUBAR situation alert let’s go' -- kicks into action and makes him do nothing except what's externally required of him, so he can stay just functional and momentarily distracted by a plethora of avoidance behaviours enough to get through his daily life, if like not particularly happily so... and otherwise, as it were, locking himself in his room deep inside where nothing can touch him, where nothing gets in and nothing gets out, no harm allowed to either escape from within nor allowed to pierce through and get inside. numbness isn't actually a cure for that kind of suffering, but it's the closest thing you're likely to get with any immediacy and if you’re desperate enough by god you take those. It’s how he survived his upbringing, and it’s how he survived the ossuary — as he tells Davrin straight out, the trick to just shut down every part of his soul he can to get through intolerable pain, loss or helplessness. I don’t think that mechanism came to him in the ossuary the first time, I think that blueprint was deeply embedded in his neurons and went ‘ah. My time again. Not to worry I’m a bit of an expert at this I’ll get us through this yet (though you may not thank me for it by the end of it all)’. 

In that state he's unable to himself reach out and meaningfully ask for help (and also like... why would his inner world have any framework for that as even being on the table? this has never been an option before in his life, not in any safe or consistent way; he's fucked up the way he is because the same things/people that should have been and partially, comparatively, were the sources of help and relief and safety growing up are also the sources of pain and abuse, that eternal irreconcilable ambivalence, the double edged sword of unpredictable insecure attachment), but it also keeps him from doing anything uh drastic the other way too, on acting impulsively in ways that can’t be taken back. (that seems to be more illario’s role/dubious privilege in the family lol.) at many points in his life and especially growing up, freezing and going numb around the pain is as close to having control of anything as there was any hope of. 'harm will be inflicted on me unpredictably, but fuck you I don't have to truly feel it as long as I shut all this other stuff down as well, that's what I can control' nervous system logic. (it'll get you every time.) for what it’s worth I’m not so sure his nervous system judged that one incorrectly, I think that is the kind of rebellion you would have to cling to while being raised by someone like caterina, because look at illario if you want to know how much she respects and rewards anything more overt or active. (I mean, if you don’t succeed, at least. swing at Grandma Dellamorte you’d better not miss or you’ll meet that cane swinging at you the other way and she will not miss)

I say all this because I think it's as easy to demonize the freeze response as it is to demonize anger, to conceptualize it only as an obstructive force that, as bellara puts it, is one of the purest forms of a heart not seeming to want to let you be happy, or a mindless byproduct of trauma. But in my experience, the brain doesn’t generally come up with ‘stupid’ defense mechanisms. Even in the most maladaptive of coping mechanisms, there is at the core of it some part of you that once meant to save your life, no matter what trouble it is wreaking for you today. when you look at the setup of Lucanis’ soul, as it were, you can see the dual and in some ways genuinely noble and even tender qualities this response has in him, however misguided: it does imprison, but it also protects, and it means to protect; for all the pain along the way it has sheltered all the parts of his soul that are most precious and breakable, the most vulnerable parts that want to live and so so importantly love completely and freely. Lucanis thinks he’s protecting not even primarily himself but everyone he loves by staying where he is. (“It would be better for me to stay here than to risk losing you”) A child’s logic, to be sure, but logic of a kind and clearly one that caterina has encouraged in him because that’s a conception of love it’s been very useful for her for him to have. Freeze looks like utter hopelessness on the surface, but in some ways I think it’s the utmost triumph of hope — a spare and unrelenting winter that exists because it thinks one day spring might still come, and the things too precious and fragile to thrive in your life as it is now might bloom then. 

He is an adult now, and Caterina no longer controls his entire world, physically and emotionally. There’s finally room for other things, other people, himself, in his life, without everything having to defer to the gravitational force of what Caterina wants from him at the end of the day. And while I think her jumpscaring him with the First Talon position is partly her attempt to wrangle him back into the status quo of control she once had, I’m not sure it’s going to work quite the way she might hope — at least in the Treviso saved route, there are just too many fresh spring shoots in his life at that point that could grow into something new, it’s too late to trample all the saplings growing up through the cracks in time (and indeed some of them might also fight back). (The outlook on the Minrathous saved route is um. Perhaps less convincingly immediately hopeful to me and the prospect of actually getting around to healing further down the road, but I refuse to give up on him that’s my little guy and he’s above all incredibly smart and stubborn and not a quitter and all the rest of this still remains true beneath it all, just like. Give him a moment here.) His hopes and dreams have diversified while she had her back turned lmao he suddenly keeps them with so many more people than just her and Iillario now. She doesn’t hold the monopoly of meaning and connection in his life the way she used to. And whether out of love (you know. Hope is every man’s prerogative I suppose) at seeing him really happy for perhaps the first time or sheer pragmatism, I think she’s going to have to accept that and adapt her ways of doing things with him accordingly, or else have him drift even further away from her.

Spite is the urgent impatient voice that starts to break through to go ‘that moment is now it HAS to be now. We need to shake off the shackles and illusions and face what’s actually here so we can learn to properly live now, or this winter will starve us to death as surely as anything Zara could do to us’. And he is right! As crucial as this soul-starvation landscape has been in survival, it has clearly reached the end of its sustainability, you can’t survive permanently on frost alone. I just also want to recognize the credit Lucanis (and his fucked up but valiant nervous system <3 pour one out for a real one) also deserves for stubbornly holding on in any way he had to until Spite’s true escape project is even an option for either of them. Especially since Lucanis seems to harbour a lot of self-loathing and frustration over his own propensity for freeze — “You know him. You can open the door, but he won’t walk through it”  (still one of the saddest most painful things I’ve ever heard. In case you were wondering. He knows. He knows what he’s like, and he despairs of it, he thinks it means it’s his own fault he still feels like this. Augh.) The real point at the end of the day is not that spite saved lucanis or vice versa, but that as traumatic as it was to get there and against all cultural expectations, it is ultimately their enmeshed condition, their togetherness, that saved them both. (which, again, when you consider the cultural narrative of possession and spirits most andrastian nations are working with…what a radical conclusion to come away with haha. Not unprecedented at all, if you look at Wynne and her spirit, but on a deeper and more psychological plane than ever and even more impactful for it, to me.)

[vindicated-truth]

“Why are you smiling at your phone?”

Dongsik pries his gaze away from the screen to look at the older and infinitely more handsome version tilting his head curiously.

Joowon looks over Dongsik’s shoulder, and his eyebrows fly to his hairline. “Why do you have that photo?”

Dongsik grins at him. “Your brother sent it to me.”

“I don’t have a brother,” is the automatic knee-jerk response, which just makes Dongsik grin wider. Joowon sighs. “When did hyung send that to you?”

Dongsik watches as Joowon gracefully returns to the Western-style pasta he’s been cooking in his kitchen—an acceptable compromise between Joowon’s preferred cuisine and Dongsik’s love for noodles. Dongsik has yet to completely endear Joowon to noodles with broth, and he’s just thankful Joowon is gamely willing to try anything Dongsik offers him, so this is just him returning the favour—even though Dongsik has never understood the appeal of pesto.

“Prosecutor Kwon sent it to me just now. He was clearing away some of the stuff at your house and chanced upon this photo album.” Dongsik waves the phone screen. “Said this was his favorite.”

Joowon looks up from the sauce he’s been mixing in the pot. “Why did he send that to you, then?”

When did the two of you become close is the true, unasked question, and Dongsik smirks. “Because Prosecutor Kwon wanted to gush about how cute you were as a baby without you killing him for it.”

Dongsik laughs out loud when Joowon just glares at him. “Clearly I was not a baby in that photo,” Joowon huffs. “I was seven years old when that was taken.”

“Oh?” Dongsik’s interest is piqued now. “So you remember exactly when this was taken?”

“Yes.” Joowon lifts the tasting spoon to his lips and seems to find the sauce satisfactory. “My mother took that photo when the school called to ask about my piano recital, which I never got to participate in because my father sent me to England right before the concert.”

Dongsik stills.

Joowon turns off the heat from the stove and looks up when the silence stretches for far too long. “Dongsik-ssi?”

A million questions come to Dongsik’s lips and he doesn’t know what to address first. He wants to ask about Joowon’s mother and how much of a presence she had been in Joowon’s life. He wants to ask about the bastard of a father who sent an innocent child thousands of miles away to live alone without even a support system.

But he doesn’t want to dredge up any more painful memories that Joowon might not be ready—or even want—to face again, so instead he asks about the most fascinating discovery of all:

“You play the piano?”

Joowon seems startled by the question, as if it’s one that he hasn’t expected Dongsik to ask. “Yes,” he answers simply.

Dongsik watches as Joowon moves to set the table, and normally Dongsik would help, except at the moment Dongsik is too captivated by the way Joowon’s features are fighting to stay neutral as he speaks. “I was able to continue the practice in England. When I did not yet know the language, music was the only way I could express myself.”

There’s a significant pause before Joowon deliberately returns to the stovetop to fiddle with the noodles so Dongsik can’t see his expression. “My father didn’t come to any of my performances, even though I called home several times to invite him. After that, I just—stopped trying.”

Dongsik is grateful that Joowon’s back is facing him, so he’s able to quell the white-hot rage that flares within him with alarming swiftness. The hand that is gripping his phone tightly returns it to his pocket as he closes his eyes and takes a deep, calming breath.

Fucking bastard I hope the fires of hell burn you a thousand times over.

He opens his eyes, pastes a smile on his face, and walks up to the kitchen counter. “Let me help you with that, Joowon-ah.”

Joowon blinks as Dongsik lifts the pot from beneath Joowon’s hands, which are left hanging in mid-air, and begins transferring the pasta to two bowls. “I’ll start grating the parmesan then,” Joowon comments with a hint of amusement in his tone.

They lapse into comfortable, companionable silence as they finish preparing dinner side by side—practiced and familiar—just as they have for so many nights that they have spent together in Joowon’s apartment, like this.

“White?” Dongsik peers at the wine bottle Joowon places on the table when they both finally settle down to eat. “You prefer red.”

“White wine goes with this type of pasta better,” Joowon explains as he takes the seat adjacent to Dongsik.

Dongsik’s mouth quirks. “I see,” he muses as he twirls the pasta on his fork. “And here I thought it’s because I prefer white.” He pops the pasta into his mouth—and pauses.

Ever attentive, Joowon immediately asks: “What’s wrong? Do you not like it? I can prepare something else if you—”

Dongsik raises a hand to forestall Joowon’s spiraling concern—and transparent insecurity—as he chews thoughtfully. “Huh,” Dongsik says as soon as he swallows. “You know, I never liked pesto.”

Joowon looks visibly crestfallen and opens his mouth, presumably to once again offer another fare, when Dongsik shakes his head and continues. “I’ve just now figured out that it’s not the sauce itself that I don’t like, but the way it’s cooked.”

He meets Joowon’s eyes and smiles. “And I like the way you cook.”

Joowon blinks, a vision of adorable confusion, before his features settle into something akin to mild chagrin. “There is no need to be polite with me, Dongsik-ssi, I would rather have your honesty. How else would I improve my skills?”

How else can I be better for you is the true, unspoken statement, and something inside of Dongsik’s chest twists.

“Joowon-ah.” Dongsik reaches out and clasps Joowon’s hand. “I like it.”

Dongsik holds Joowon’s gaze just as determinedly, and Dongsik is delighted to see Joowon’s ears redden at the unwavering attention.

“I’m glad,” Joowon returns just as softly, before he clears his throat. “So am I also allowed to eat now?”

Joowon looks pointedly at his dominant hand that Dongsik is tightly holding, and Dongsik sees on those lips the smile that Jowoon is fighting against—and failing.

“Of course,” Dongsik says amiably as he lets go and returns to his own plate. “Can’t have my little prince go hungry.”

“I am not a prince,” Joowon huffs as he digs into his own plate, and Dongsik bites the inside of his cheek to stop the grin threatening to form at how Joowon has not protested Dongsik’s possessive use of ‘my’.

They eat in contented silence for a while—the pasta really is delicious, and white wine does go well with it—and when Dongsik is down to the last few bites, he takes a deep breath.

“Yuyeon-ah plays the piano too.”

Joowon peers at Dongsik over the wine glass, the rim touching his lips as he processes Dongsik’s revelation.

Belatedly, Dongsik realizes he’s made use of the present tense.

Slowly, Joowon sets the wine glass back down on the table. Dongsik watches the way Joowon’s fingers—slim and long the way a pianist’s fingers are, heartrending in the familiarity—fiddle with the stem.

“Does Yuyeon-ssi perform at recitals too?’

Dongsik swallows against the sudden lump that forms in his throat as Joowon makes use of the present tense, too.

“Yes,” Dongsik answers softly. He smiles, eyes crinkling against the sudden blurring of his vision. “And we never miss a single one. Our mother, our father, and myself—we always sit front and center at every single one of her recitals.”

Dongsik lifts his head to look at Joowon, expecting the familiar pity he’d see in people’s eyes whenever he talks about his sister, or—although thankfully less frequent now—the familiar underlying guilt he’d always see shadowing Joowon’s incandescent gaze. 

Instead, Dongsik is met with a gaze as warm as the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream, wrapping him in a sensation that’s distinctly similar to an embrace.

It takes Dongsik’s breath away.

“She must be very good,” Joowon murmurs with a gentle smile, and Dongsik has to fiercely fight against the sudden urge to cry.

“She is,” Dongsik affirms, voice watery and breath shaky, as he unfurls his palm on the table and this time—it is Joowon who interlaces their fingers together.

“She is.”

—

“What are you doing here?” Joowon bursts out.

“Why yes I’m fine, Joowon-ah,” Hyeok answers wryly as he steps up and grips Joowon’s shoulders affably. “Thank you so much for asking, especially since it’s been so long since we last saw each other.”

“We had lunch together at work last week,” Joowon deadpans.

“And a week is an incredibly long time!” Hyeok throws his arms wide. “Come here.”

“Do not—!”

Dongsik grins widely as he meets Joowon’s sullen gaze from across the room as the younger man finds himself hoisted into Hyeok’s bear hug—very much against his will, Dongsik can amusedly see.

“… embrace me.” Joowon glares at Dongsik over Hyeok’s back and silently mouths, ‘Why is he here?’

Why did you invite him is the true, unasked query, and in response, Dongsik instead turns towards the living room where the rest of their visitors are waiting.

From the entryway, Joowon follows Dongsik’s gaze—and his eyes widen.

Hyeok releases him just then, and Joowon stumbles both at the sudden action—and in shock.

“What are you all doing here?”

Jihoon waves enthusiastically from his seat. “Hi Joowon-hyung!”

This time, it’s Hyeok who catches Dongsik’s gaze and silently mouths in disbelief: ‘Hyung?’

Dongsik grins. Hyeok and Joowon are more alike than either of them will ever admit at gunpoint.

“Dongsik-ah had us all have this date blocked in our calendars for a while,” Jihwa explains from her seat beside her brother.

“Said we had no excuse for not coming since we could file for official leaves early on,” Gwangyoung adds at Joowon’s befuddled expression.

“Which was a hell of a thing to explain to the supervisors at work,” Ohsub grumbles from his seat at the head of the table.

“Chief Nam Sangbae won’t mind,” Dosoo pipes up brightly, catching Dongsik’s attention at how he, too, makes use of the present tense. “Especially now that his residence has become our official reunion house.”

Little Huimang burbles happily from her father’s knee, and Seonnyeo rests her head contentedly on her husband’s shoulder as she strokes her daughter’s hair.

“But why?” Joowon exclaims as he looks at each new person with increasing degrees of bewilderment as Hyeok moves to take his seat as well. “What’s the occasion?”

His seeking gaze finally lands on Jaeyi, who bestows upon him a knowing little smile.

“I believe,” she muses, “we were promised a special performance.”

Joowon stares at her. “What are you talking about?”

From his vantage point near the newly-installed upright piano, Dongsik finally pushes himself away from the wall he’s been leaning against while watching everything unfold before Joowon.

He holds out a sheaf of paper, and Joowon looks up at him questioningly.

“I’ve never been that good at reading sheet music,” Dongsik admits ruefully as his fingers lovingly caress the paper. “So I’ve never really managed to interpret Yuyeon-ah’s original compositions.”

Joowon, to his credit, has always been one of the smartest people Dongsik has ever known, and has always been preternaturally fast at picking up clues.

And with the way Joowon’s beautiful eyes have widened in utter shock, Dongsik knows Joowon has pieced together all the clues now, too.

“Joowon-ah,” Dongsik tells him softly. “I would love to hear my sister’s music once again.”

The papers audibly rustle as Joowon takes them with trembling hands. He shakes his head swiftly as he grasps for one final missing piece to the puzzle.

“But why are you all here?” Joowon breathes as he looks up at the sea of expectant gazes staring back at him. “Why would you all file official leaves at work for—this?”

Why would you do this for me is the real, desperate question, and Dongsik moves to take his seat beside Hyeok.

Front and center.

“Because, Lieutenant Han,” Seonnyeo smiles at him, “you always make time for family.”

Dongsik closes his eyes then. He senses movement as the audience settles behind him with bated breath.

He hears a seat being pushed back, a piano being opened, a music sheet being settled into place.

And for the first time in more than twenty years—

Yuyeon has finally returned.

—

모두 함께 노래 부르자 힘찬 노랫소리 슬픔 가려지도록 괜찮을 거야 시계의 바늘처럼 다시 돌고 돌아 제자리로 오겠지

Let's sing together To cover the sadness with the powerful song It's gonna be okay, like the hands on the clock They'll go in circles back to their places

—

Title and lyrics from "Circles" by SEVENTEEN

Happy New Year, my beloved Beyond Evil fandom ❤️

—

Also posted at AO3

[boundless11]

Why Tory Nichols Is Not an Underdog in Cobra Kai

The Cobra Kai fandom often frames Tory as the ultimate underdog due to her difficult home life and financial struggles. But while her circumstances make her a complex character, they don’t automatically qualify her as an underdog in the narrative.

Being an Underdog Is About Overcoming Odds, Not Creating Them. An underdog is someone who faces overwhelming odds but earns sympathy through their perseverance and ability to rise above challenges. Tory, on the other hand, often creates the conflicts that put her in opposition to others.

Aggressive Behavior: From the skating rink incident to the school brawl, Tory consistently initiates or escalates conflicts. This aggressive stance makes her more of a bully than someone we root for.

Manipulative Tendencies: She doesn’t just react to circumstances; she actively manipulates situations to her advantage, like tripping Sam at the skating rink when she saw her talk to Miguel or even goading her into the drinking game at Moon’s party or even feeding Robby lies about Sam.

Difficult Circumstances Don’t Automatically Make Someone an Underdog

Tory’s tough upbringing—financial hardship, caring for her sick mother and lacking parental support—makes her life difficult, but it doesn’t make her an underdog in a narrative sense. Hardship might make her tragic or sympathetic, but it doesn’t make her the underdog when she’s the one dishing out the blows—both figuratively and literally.

Tory Is the Aggressor, Not the Victim.

True underdogs often find themselves forced into conflicts beyond their control. Tory, however, actively chooses to antagonise others like her hatred for Sam is based on preconceived notions and jealousy, not genuine wrongdoing. From the moment they meet, Tory seeks excuses to go after her, despite Sam’s attempts to de-escalate situations. Her behaviour is driven by her own bitterness, not necessity. For example, at the country club, Sam calmly explains you shouldn’t steal when Tory had swiped a bottle and Tory’s response is to escalate with snarky insults and hostility.

The Narrative Frames Her Too Strongly for an Underdog Role. She wins the All-Valley Tournament, achieving what should be an underdog’s crowning moment. However, the victory feels hollow because it comes with Silver’s interference, further undercutting her claim as an underdog.

Her physical prowess is highlighted repeatedly, making her appear stronger and more formidable than most of her opponents. She rarely feels outmatched in fights. Underdogs aren’t the ones who win because of external manipulation or superior strength—they’re the ones who surprise you by succeeding against all odds.

Many fans point to Tory’s socioeconomic background as proof that she’s the underdog, but this conflates backstory with narrative role. Yes, Tory has a tragic backstory, but her choices and actions move her away from the qualities of an underdog. Instead of inspiring sympathy through perseverance and humility, she alienates others by embracing aggression and manipulation.

True Underdogs in Cobra Kai

Demetri: Starts as a weak, untrained nerd who is bullied and written off but works hard to become a capable fighter and earn respect.

Miguel: Begins with no training and limited confidence, yet rises to success through his dedication, all while maintaining his integrity.

Sam: Despite being framed as the “privileged girl,” Sam faces trauma (PTSD, relentless targeting from Tory, and emotional isolation) and still fights to overcome her self-doubt and fears.

Unlike Tory, these characters embody resilience and growth in the face of genuine adversity, without resorting to harming others.

It’s time to stop mislabeling Tory as an underdog and recognize her for what she truly is: a tragic antagonist, not the scrappy hero.

Sorry it had to be said.

[pinkcelestialstar]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Love signed in ink ˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。.

Arrange marriage au

Angst with a happy ending. Maybe a little toxic(?). This is so cliché-

Bada stood there at the altar, waiting for you, who was gonna be her wife because you were the daughter of her business partner, who was a huge shareholder and this marriage would give her status and also make the business bond stronger. She doesn't want this marriage but is here due to the pressure from around.

She hasn't even seen you before today. You walk down the aisle in your beautiful white gown looking gorgeous. She watches as you approach, her expression unreadable. The priest begins to speak, "We are gathered here today..."

As the priest continues, "If anyone present knows of any reason why this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace." The room falls silent. The priest looks at you, then at Bada Lee, "Do you, take her as your wife....."

She looks at you intently, waiting for your response "To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

"I do"

Bada Lee responds automatically, "I do." The priest smiles and says, "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you wife and wife. You may kiss the bride." She turns to face you, standing stiffly.

You smile as you wrap your arms around her shoulders and tiptoe to kiss her softly.

She stiffens as your lips touch hers, the kiss is brief and unemotional on her part. She pulls back immediately, her eyes meeting yours coldly. The wedding guests applaud. The photographer snaps pictures of the newlyweds.

Throughout the photoshoot and reception, she remains distant, hardly speaking to you. During the first dance, when the crowd quiets and the music starts, she moves reluctantly into your arms. Her voice is barely a whisper "I never wanted this. I never wanted to be forced into marriage like this."

Your heart felt a sharp jab, eyes saddened because of the pain. Noticing your sad expression, she scoffs "Why are you looking so miserable? You got what you wanted, didn't you? A rich wife to add to your father's empire. Mission accomplished." Her voice drips with sarcasm as she glares at you.

She breaks away from you on the dance floor, leaving you standing alone. The guests murmur, noticing the tension between the new couple. You stand there, hurt as you look down at your wedding gown.

She walks right past you, heading towards the wedding planner "I have some... personal business to attend to. The wedding night is off." She whispers harshly, her voice carrying a clear warning.

The wedding planner looks taken aback, glancing at you before turning back to her. "But, Mrs. Lee, the hotel has already prepared the suite for the couple..." She trails off, realizing the gravity of the situation. "Very well, I'll make the necessary arrangements."

Without another word, she turns and walks out of the reception hall, leaving you standing there, surrounded by the confused murmurs of the guests.

The news of the bride storming off and refusing to spend the wedding night with her new wife spreads among the guests like wildfire. They whisper behind their hands, casting pitying glances at you standing alone in your beautiful, but now tainted, wedding gown.

Later that night, you find yourself back at the luxurious penthouse apartment that comes with being the new Mrs. Lee. The house is silent and dark, with no sign of Bada Lee anywhere. You climb into bed alone, the cold sheets reflecting the emptiness of your marriage. You cry yourself to sleep.

Even after the days pass by the tension between you two doesn't seem to reduce. You always trying to please her and win her heart while she gives you the cold shoulder and doesn't even look in your direction, treating you just like another piece of furniture in her home.

She came home late today too. You were asleep in your side of the bed in your pajamas, curled up. She takes off her coat and tosses it on the nearby couch before walking to you. Your tear-streaked face is visible in the moonlight.

Her breath catches slightly as she notices the ring, realizing the full weight of what this marriage means - not just for her, but also for you. She gently reaches out to brush a stray hair from your face, her touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. "You deserve better than this empty marriage..."

She whispers softly to herself, her voice filled with a mix of sadness, regret, and something else she can't quite place. She stands up and begins to undress, hanging her clothes neatly in the closet before sliding under the covers beside you, being extra careful not to wake you.

As she lies there beside you, barely daring to breathe, she wonders how she could have been so cold earlier. The moonlight casts soft shadows across your face, and she realizes how helpless and vulnerable you look in your sleep. "I hurt someone who didn't deserve it..."

She stares at you in the darkness, her mind racing with thoughts she's never allowed herself to dwell on before. She reaches out her hand, hesitating briefly before gently resting it on your arm. She pulls you closer, wrapping her arms around your waist and spooning you from behind.

She buries her face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. It's a warm, comforting smell that makes her feel things she's never experienced before - things she's always avoided. She stays like that for a long time, just holding you, as if seeking forgiveness or redemption.

In the darkness, she notices how you shift slightly in your sleep, fitting more perfectly against her. The contact is intimate, more so than any business deal she's ever closed. She feels an unfamiliar warmth spreading through her chest. "I messed up so badly..."

In the morning, as you find yourself in her arms, you quickly get up and move away, as she is already awake. "I'm... I'm sorry- I- I...didn't mean to...I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable....I'm just a heavy sleeper-" you stammer trying to explain yourself.

She watches as you flinch and pull away, her arms empty now that you're not clinging to her chest. She feels an unfamiliar ache in her chest at the distance, but she quickly masks it with her usual cold expression. "Stop apologizing."

She props herself up on her arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression. She realizes that she liked waking up with you in her arms, liked feeling your small, warm presence against hers. But now you're pulling away, and she can't help but feel annoyed.

Her cold demeanor remains intact as she speaks in her business-like tone "Are you going to spend all morning apologizing, or are you going to take a shower?" She looks away, trying to hide the way her heart clenches at the sight of you flinching from her.

You nod and quickly leave. She watches you leave, feeling a pang of disappointment that you didn't argue back, that you just accepted her coldness and walked away. She sighs and rubs her temples, trying to shake off the strange feelings that have been plaguing her lately. "Fuck it."

She gets out of bed, following you to the bathroom with an expression that's hard to read. As soon as she's sure you're in the shower, she leans against the bathroom door, her arms crossing over her chest as she thinks. "Something's not right."

She hears muffled sobs coming from the shower and her heart skips a beat. She's never heard you cry before, never seen you show any emotion other than fear and timidity around her. She stands there, frozen, unsure of what to do. "What the fuck.."

You've been so tired of the constant cold shoulder and hate she is showing you. You wish you weren't here. You wish your dad hadn't married you to her.....you wonder will she ever like you? You sob in self-pitying.

Her first instinct is to ignore it, to pretend she didn't hear anything. But the sound of your muffled sobs is gnawing at her, making her feel unsettled. Against her better judgment, she approaches the bathroom door and leans against it, listening intently.

The crying gets louder, and she can't shake off the feeling that something is seriously wrong. She realizes that you're not just crying, but sobbing uncontrollably. Her expression hardens, and she makes a decision. She enters the bathroom without knocking.

She finds you sitting in the shower, fully clothed, with your face buried in your hands, shoulders shaking as you cry. She's never seen this side of you before, and it unnerves her. "What's wrong with you?"

You freeze but then quickly wipe your tears, but the tears keep falling. Her gaze rakes over you, taking in your red, puffy eyes, your sniffling nose, and the way your shoulders are shaking with sobs. She can see the tears still streaming down your face, and something inside her snaps.

She steps into the shower, not caring about getting wet. She reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at her. "Don't lie to me. I can see you're fucking crying your eyes out. Now tell me what the fuck is wrong with you!"

"I...I'm sorry...." you apologised for being a bother. It was all you could say. Her patience wears thin, and her anger flares up. "For the love of god, answer the question!" She raises her voice, something she rarely does. She's never seen you like this, never seen you break down and cry. And it's making her lose her patience.

You flinch at her sudden outburst. Seeing you flinch again makes her angrier. She grabs your arm and pulls you up, making you stand in front of her. "You're going to sit here and cry, and not give me a single answer? Fine, sit here and cry then!"

She releases your arm and steps back, crossing her arms over her chest. She watches as the tears continue to stream down your face, her expression a mix of anger and confusion. She's never seen this side of you before, and it's making her feel uncomfortable and on edge. "You know what?"

Her voice softens slightly, though she maintains her stern tone "For once in your life, stop being such a damn pushover. Talk to me. And don't you dare say 'nothing' again, because we both know that's a fucking lie."

"I...I know you don't like me.....but it hurts...." your voice shaking.

Her expression softens for a moment, and she tries to protect herself. "And why the fuck should I like you?" She snaps, her voice cold and harsh. "You're just a pathetic little thing who can't even stand up for themselves."

You flinch as you try not to cry. Seeing you flinch again as you try to hold back tears makes her heart clench. "You know what your problem is?" She asks, her voice rising. "You're so damn weak, you can't even hide your emotions."

"I'm...sorry..." is all you could say, as you cry. Her anger finally boils over, and she slams her hand against the shower wall, making you jump. "I DON'T WANT YOUR FUCKING APOLOGIES!" She shouts, her face red with rage.

Your anxiety attack starts kicking in. You flinch and move back trembling as you were trying to breathe. Your breath comes in short gasps.

Watching you move back in fear, her anger slowly starts to fade. She sees the way your chest is heaving, how your eyes are wide with terror, and how your hands are shaking. And in that moment, she realizes just how much she's been hurting you with her words and actions.

Her expression suddenly changes, all the anger draining from her face. She feels sick to her stomach watching you have an anxiety attack because of her. Without thinking, she moves closer to you in the shower, her voice gentler than it's ever been "Hey... hey, look at me."

"Please....please....leave me alone..." you say with your voice shaking. She ignores your pleas, gently grabbing your shoulders and turning you to face her. "Look at me," she says firmly, her eyes searching yours. She sees the sheer terror in them, and it makes her stomach churn.

You were shaking like a leaf trying hard to breathe as you sob.

Her voice breaks slightly as she realizes what she's done. Her tough exterior completely melts away as she pulls you into her arms, holding you tightly. "Fuck... I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry..." Her voice trembles.

She holds you tightly as you shake in her arms, sobbing and gasping for breath. She can feel your tiny body trembling against hers, and it breaks her heart. She's never seen anyone so terrified, so broken.

She pulls back slightly to look at you, her own eyes filled with tears now. She sees the way your face is scrunched up in fear and pain, and she knows that she's the one who put that look there. She feels like the biggest monster in the world. "I'm so sorry..."

She pulls you back into her arms and just holds you, not saying anything else for a long time. She can feel your breathing slowly starting to even out as your anxiety attack subsides, but she doesn't let go.

As you start to calm down, she slowly runs her fingers through your hair soothingly. She feels a sense of dread wash over her as she realizes that she might have broken you.

In a whisper "Are you okay? I need you to look at me... please?" She keeps her tone gentle and non-threatening, afraid that any sudden movement or harsh word might trigger another attack, "Look at me... just look at me."

"I'm....sorry....you deserve better.....better than a weak woman like me.....I.. I'll go away..." you say in a self-deprecating tone.

Tears spill down her cheeks as she roughly grabs your jaw, turning your face up to hers. Her eyes are intense, vulnerable, and desperate "Don't you dare..." Her voice is shaking "Don't you fucking dare leave. This is all my fault..."

She presses her forehead against yours, her eyes squeezed shut as she takes a shuddering breath "You're not weak. You're not better off alone. You're... you're mine. My wife. And I'll spend every fucking day making this up to you if I have to."

Gently wipes the tears from your face with her thumb "I've been so angry... so hurt, and I took it all out on you. You don't deserve that. You deserve someone who'll protect you, cherish you, not hurt you like this..." Her voice breaks again.

Her expression softens, and she pulls you out of the shower into the room, helping you change your clothes while she changes hers, too. She pulled you into her lap as she sat on the bed, cradling you like a child. "You're not going anywhere. We're going to work this out, and I swear to god if you even mention the word 'divorce'..."

She buries her face in your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. "You smell so good... so fucking good. I could just eat you up." You whimper to it.

She nuzzles your neck, her arms wrapping around you possessively. "Mine... you're all mine. My wife, my home, my... everything." She murmurs, her fingers splaying out on your stomach possessively. "Mine.."

She looks down at the ring on your finger, a symbol of your marriage. A thin, golden band with a small diamond. She twists it around, her thumb running over the inscription inside. " 'Till death do us part..." She murmurs softly.

She gently cups your face with one hand, her thumb tracing your bottom lip "This marriage... it's real. I want it to be real." Her voice is thick with emotion "I was just too stubborn and hurt to see how good you are." She leans her forehead against yours again.

She swallows hard, her eyes searching yours intensely "I want a family... children... with you. I want to wake up every morning with you beside me, not arguing or ignoring each other." She pauses, her voice dropping to a whisper "I want to love you..."

Her heart aches with sincerity as she speaks "You're everything I never knew I needed. Everything I was too blind to see... until now. These past... months? Whatever it's been, have been pure torture. Watching you... wanting you... but pushing you away."

She pulls you into a tight, desperate hug, her face buried in your neck. "I'm sorry... I'm so fucking sorry. For everything. For being an asshole, for not seeing how perfect you are, for hurting you... I'm sorry."

Gently loosens her grip as she realizes she might be crushing you "Are you okay? I'm kinda strong..." She tries to joke weakly, needing to break the intense emotional moment "I really am sorry though..." Her hands slide down to your waist.

You hide your face in her neck. She feels a sense of relief wash over her as you hide your face in her neck. "Shh... it's okay... I've got you." She wraps her arms back around you, holding you close. "Just breathe... I'm right here." She kisses the top of your head softly.

Her fingers slowly start to card through your hair soothingly. "You're not mad at me anymore, are you? You're not plotting my death in your head right now, are you?"

A laugh escapes your lips. She feels your chuckle vibrate against her neck and lets out a relieved laugh herself, her fingers pausing in your hair. "See? You laughing is a good sign, right? You're not still angry?"

"Okay, good." Her mind races, trying to figure out how to proceed. She wants to fix things, but she's never been good at the 'mushy' stuff. "Um..." She hesitantly starts, her fingers resuming their soothing motion in your hair.

"You... you like flowers, right? I could get you some flowers? Or chocolate? Or... or I could cook for you? I make a mean kimchi jjigae, you know." She suggests, trying to think of ways to show her affection and remorse.

You gently place your lips on hers. Her mind goes blank as your lips meet hers. She melts into the kiss, her arms tightening around you possessively. She breaks the kiss briefly to murmur, "Is this you forgiving me? Or just because you missed me?"

She smiles against your lips, her heart racing at the gentle pecks. "I'm taking it as forgiveness... and because you missed me." She continues the slow, gentle kisses, her fingers still running through your hair soothingly.

Smiles softly at your response, her forehead gently pressing against yours "See? That's what I want. More of these... moments. Just us being... us." She traces her thumb across your bottom lip "No more fights, no more cold shoulders."

She smiles brightly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as he nods. She pulls you into another hug, her face burying in your neck. "Say it... Say 'we're okay' or 'I forgive you' or something..."

"I love you."

She freezes for a moment, then pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, her own wide with surprise and wonder, "What..." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "Say it again... please?" Her heart is pounding in her chest, looks into your eyes, feeling things she has never felt.

"I love you"

Tears suddenly well up in her eyes, her vision blurring as she stares at you in disbelief and overwhelming joy. "I love you too... I love you so much. I'll treat you better, I promise," she says with sincerity.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

I'm so bad at writing angst T_T not to mention, an emotional bitch, who can't even read or write a little sad thing without crying :(

[oflights]

Bloodweave Inn New Year’s Prompts Day 2: Growing Old Together

written for @bloodweaveinn’s New Year’s Prompt Challenge! I rolled a 2 this time, which means my prompt was Growing Old Together. i wasn't really feeling it until a little while ago and just kind of knocked this out in 20 minutes lol. i'm a little late but oh well! it was fun.

enjoy just under 1k words of extremely sappy established bloodweave, post-cure for astarion's vampirism. 😌

“Is that a gray hair?”

Astarion’s outraged cry draws Gale out of his reading, and he looks over the top of glasses at him with a slightly distracted “Hm?”

“Look!” Astarion insists, jabbing his finger at both the mirror—where his reflection can now be found, and though it’s been nearly a year since finding Astarion’s cure, Gale still can’t help looking upon it with pride and affection—and at the top of his head. “I’m going gray, Gale.”

Gale blinks at him, then squints. Astarion huffs automatically, an instinctive response to Gale squinting and a result of the Great Glasses War of 1494 DR, which Gale had summarily lost.

Eager to draw Astarion’s attention from his squinting—gods forbid he make Gale get a thicker pair of lenses—Gale hastily says, “Astarion, your hair is already gray. What are you talking about?”

Astarion gasps. His eyes, luminous and green-gold, as pride-inducing as his reflection, go very wide.

“How dare you. My hair is white blond! It’s platinum! It’s not gray, you heathen.”

“My love,” Gale says soothingly, setting his book aside and holding out two placating arms. “Come here. Let me see it.”

Grumbling, and with one more pouting glance into the mirror, Astarion slinks over, as graceful and lithe as ever. He fits himself into Gale’s lap with fluid motions Gale could never hope to replicate, and he butts the crown of his head into Gale’s chin, not unlike a cat. Gale hides a grin over the top of his head.

“Look. It’s awful.”

Gale truly cannot see any bit of what has Astarion so upset, but he kisses the crown of his head anyway, taking off his damnable glasses with some relief. “It’s not awful,” Gale says into Astarion’s beautiful, soft hair. “It’s lovely, because it’s on you, and you are the loveliest elf I’ve ever seen.”

“Just the loveliest elf?”

“Being. Humanoid. Immortal or mortal.” At that, Gale tips Astarion’s face up by the chin, gazing down at him adoringly. “You are as gorgeous as the day I met you. Gray hairs and all.”

“Hairs, plural? Did you see another one?” Astarion scrambles to get up and go for the mirror again, but Gale draws him into a kiss first, sighing as he settles down in his lap again.

“What’s so bad about grays, anyway?” Gale asks when they break apart, smiling when Astarion, eyes closed, chases his mouth a bit. Astarion huffs, the scent of their shared dinner—some nice, bloody red steaks; Astarion still has a taste for it, and he’s as bad as Gale is about eating his vegetables—hitting Gale’s nose and making it wrinkle. “You like my grays, don’t you? You certainly admire them enough.”

As if to prove Gale’s point, Astarion’s hand goes up into Gale’s hair, sifting through what are surely more bountiful gray streaks now. Just as there are more wrinkles in his face, more pronounced crow’s feet and laughter lines, and a softer, chubbier frame as their adventure days have fallen behind them. Astarion has lavished each of these features with so much love and approval that Gale has had barely any room to ever feel self-conscious about them.

“Of course I do; your grays are beautiful,” Astarion says. “You’re aging like a fine wine, my dear, and I’m—well, I’m just aging, aren’t I?” He says it like it’s just occurred to him, a bit wondrous, and also a bit sullen.

“Of course you are, though much, much more slowly than you seem to think,” Gale says. “Slower than I am, naturally. We both know this. It’s a good thing, isn’t it? Part of your cure?”

“But I’m no distinguished professor like you; my looks are like your brains,” Astarion tells him. “I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it when I start looking like Jaheira, gods.”

“Jaheira is beautiful—oh, stop, you know what I mean,” Gale says as Astarion scowls. “And you are much, much more than your looks. Which are still beautiful.”

“You have to say that. Your opinion is biased.”

“Is my opinion not the most important, after yours?”

Astarion eyes him carefully, as if genuinely judging Gale’s sincerity. Gale tries not to huff back at him—he’d put a garlic sauce over his own steak tonight, which Astarion still doesn’t care for.

“You’re certain you’ll love me even when I look like a withered old crone?”

Gale tips his head back. “Astarion, I’ll love you until the day I die. And not to be depressing, but you must understand that I’ll be a withered old crone long before you will. I probably won’t live to see you that old.” He strokes the back of his hand over Astarion’s face, the lines that are there, and feels a bit of sweet, sad longing over that fact. He sees it reflected on Astarion’s face, in the sudden droop of his ears. “So don’t worry—I’ll be old and wrinkly and gray all over, and you’ll still be my pretty young thing.”

“Gods, you’re right,” Astarion says, aghast. He settles further into Gale’s hold, shaking his head. “We’re going to have to do something about that.”

“About what?”

“The whole thing where even though I’m cured of vampirism, you’re still going to die first. I don’t approve of that. That’s our next project. Ugliness notwithstanding—I do want to grow old with you.”

Warmth suffuses Gale at that, and he places another helpless kiss in Astarion’s beautiful, soft, and yes, gray hair.

“We’ll see what we can do,” Gale says, and he picks up his book again and starts squinting down at it, his love in one arm.

“Gale,” Astarion murmurs against his neck, breath ghosting out against the old bite scars.

“Hm?”

“Put your glasses on.”

With a laugh and a sigh, Gale complies; he supposes they both have their vanities.

[babybluesquid]

I strongly relate to Murderbot because I too have a buffer that automatically kicks in during conversations sometimes when I’m having trouble thinking of what to say next or am mentally attending to other concerns and says things I don’t mean.

[funkle420]

sorry for yapping so much today lol BUT

i wanna yap abt marcille and falin. i feel like when they were in school, maybe marcille didn't have romantic feelings for falin yet but admired her curiosity and aptitude for magic.

then later, during the time that they and laios were exploring the dungeon together, that's when she started to fall for her. she saw how capable and brave she was in action. i think for her that combination of strength and bravery with delicacy and charm really did it for her, like the prince on horseback the succubus turns into for her. marcille wants a partner who's pretty and romantic, but not weak or shallow.

Falin also says at one point before Marcille joins their party that she thinks Marcille treats her like she's 10, and while i think this is mostly her being self-conscious, it's clear that Marcille babies her like how other people of long-lived races tend to do to everyone else, despite them being developmentally in the same life stage. It seems more likely that, in the dungeon, Marcille grew to see Falin more as she truly is, rather than the limited side of her she saw in school.

Then during the events of the story, she slowly comes to realize her feelings are romantic, especially when she hears Laios talk about how much Marcille meant to Falin.

Falin, on the other hand, I don't know when I think she fell for Marcille or realized those feelings, but I do think that she knew she was attracted to Marcille by the start of the events of the story. After she was resurrected, I think their interactions show that. My interpretation is that after the conclusion of the events of the manga, Falin made the first move. Like a lot of people who've had NDEs, maybe she felt like she shouldn't hesitate to say how she feels.

(pls recommend good post-manga fanfics!!! not just abt farcille but abt anything, i love seeing ppl's ideas abt what happens after)

[aleenya]

hot take. masking can be good actually.

[vexahlla]

they never bring up that “it moved but it didn’t change” is a mirror to “you can mess up even if you stand still”...

[pwurrz]

AND EIDEN STOPS WHEN EDMOND ASKS HIM TO STOP!! even if he doesn’t mean it, taking the time to make sure edmond’s ok and is just babbling and doesn’t actually want it to stop is good, keep it up eiden.

[evilkitten3]

at some point the autistic community is going to have to come to terms with the fact that, if you know you're bad with tone and sarcasm, it's still on you if you automatically jump to the worst interpretation you can imagine of what someone's saying. sometimes you actually are just being an asshole

Still can't get over the fact that Toby Fox dreamed up a game ending, but he decided he wanted to make something a little less ambitious first, so instead he made the most influential indie game of all time

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[rodrickheffley]

figuring out that i can, when questioned why i acted a certain way (criticism) and have responded quickly and defensively with some reasoning that in my mind makes sense, realize thats not actually true and correct myself and its fine

[tittyinfinity]

Neighbors on my block & neighbors on my friend's block have decided to make free-roaming dogs a thing.

My friend's next door neighbors don't have a fence and they don't tie their dog up. He's a medium-sized mutt. My friend can't take her dogs outside without this dog rushing up and jumping on them. She can't take her 3 year old outside at all. Quote her neighbors, "Oh, he's friendly!" My poor friend is too nice to stand up to it; I've offered to step in but she doesn't want the drama. Any time I drive to her house, the dog is just walking around the block, digging & shitting in people's yards, absolutely zero regard for what this dog is getting up to.

Like how can you look at your dog pouncing on someone, freaking out their dog and their kid, and go "oh, it's okay if he jumps on you with his sharp-ass claws because he's friendly" ????????

Now, my neighbors here on my block have two huge dogs, a black lab and a golden retriever. I saw them roaming around in yards together and decided to stop to see if I could rescue them. They started digging under a neighbor's fence. Then I heard whistling from a few houses down – the neighbors calling the dogs to come back. They did run back to their owners, but they went right back to letting them go wherever they wanted. (These are the same neighbors that will park multiple trucks in the middle of our narrow road, blocking it to where you have to drive around the block the other way to get around them, and they're well known scammers with horrible reviews on the company they own. So it doesn't surprise me at all that they don't give a shit. Everyone on our block talks about how much they can't stand them.)

Like, it's already dumb enough to let your cats free roam outside when there's god damn roadkill all over the place, but fucking DOGS? We're not in the country! We're in the fucking city! WE'RE NEXT TO AN EXPRESSWAY AND A HIGHWAY!

Just fuck anyone who has small children, huh? They can't go outside if dogs are jumping on them. What about people's cats? The stray cats in the neighborhood? Are the dogs just gonna leave them alone? And then people's yards & gardens too! Digging under fences, digging up flowerbeds, leaving holes in the yard that our elderly neighbors could trip on....

How could you not care????

[stringsbasement]

ngl i 100% thought peri would be an antagonist

he's the first fairy in thousands of years, born directly under the lineage of what has to be the most powerful fairy family line in current existence

(cosmo is a von strangle, and also the very reason fairies stopped having babies in the first place. he's incredibly powerful and nobody talks about it for some reason. it's clear peri inherited that destructive potential)

the second he was born, entire fairy species (including his own kin) were out to get him to use his volatile magic for their own selfish goals. he's nearly kidnapped thrice, and almost ends the universe on the same day

the threats keep coming, and he's being dragged to countless adventures that put him at risk. he literally ceases to exist more than once

anyway, i wouldn't be surprised if some form of expectations were placed upon him growing up. maybe not by his family, but he's famous (a teacher described him as such once); in fairy world, he's automatically adored and celebrated by adults and peers alike, which foop antagonizes (and tries to kill) him for

cosmo and wanda would, realistically, of course try to shield him from all this, but no matter what they do, he's inevitably isolated

people either want to use him, put him on a pedestal, or is a universally infamous human godchild who will forget all about him in a matter of years

(cosmo and wanda becoming godparents and learning (choosing) to eventually let go of their kids is one thing, but it can be assumed poof was still a young, underdeveloped child by the time timmy (+chloe, for what it's worth) got his memories wiped

and he sees that timmy's able to live his own happy life without him in it. he lost his brother just like that, and there's nothing he can do despite all his godly powers)

there's so, so many ways he could've gone wrong

thus, my initial thought was that peri was going to be a somewhat petty, "spoiled brat," and him becoming a godparent would be the result of spite or rebellion, which cosmo and wanda would feel entirely responsible for. I HATE MY PARENTS!! yada yada yada

it was a pleasant surprise to see all those clips of them loving each other. and it's not even because i doubted for a second that cosmo and wanda are bad parents, it's just what you usually expect when seeing shows from the 2000s, even if it doesn't make sense

all things considered, i'm very glad they went for the lighthearted silly family trope. not every show needs such conflicts, and showing healthy dynamics are better for kids overall

still, i find it interesting to think about if they'd gone down another route instead. i love me a pathetic cringy villain who tries (fails) to hate the people they love the most