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bostongirl13 · 3 years

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Piano, Thanksgiving and heart attack

A/N: I wrote this with the intention of continuing this story ➡ New Dodger photo , but it can safely be treated as a one shot.

Summary: I think the title explains it all 💙

Warnings: age gap, Scott and Chris are assholes, swearing, mistakes

Words: 1,5k +

TUESDAY

You growled in frustration not being able to remember a single word and what was in the linguistic pragmatics tasks.

"Stupid subject" you muttered, throwing your pencil across the room and letting it hit the wall. Dodger, who was lying on the couch behind you and keeping you company, raised his ears to the sound.

You've been sitting in the living room with your back against the sofa for a good five hours because your lecturer thought up an exam the day before the long weekend. Because, of course, speech acts, language functions, the theory of speech acts, and the communicative intention are so damn important that they can't wait until next week.

"Fuck" you cursed under your breath and rubbed your tired eyes. You felt your head starting to ache. And tears fall from my eyes from staring at the laptop screen for a long time. You needed a break, but you knew that if you do it, there is no chance that you will go back to studying. Being stubborn and hard to give in by nature, you took a deep breath and started reading the definitions and tasks once again.

Chris, of course, knew how difficult and hard this item was for you, so he was always as quiet as possible, occasionally bringing you a bowl of fruit, coffee, or tea, and ordered take-out food. He was loved. Even though you didn't thank him and just nodded your head, or just said nothing and paid him no attention, he knew you appreciated his help anyway. But seeing you sitting another hour in front of the computer with red eyes and tired, broke his heart. He couldn't watch his love work to death, and he knew that if he asked you to take a break, you wouldn't. So he came up with an idea, the implementation of which would make you leave your studies.

So he went to the piano standing against the wall and after a few minutes of choosing what he wanted to play, he put his fingers on the keys and caused the first notes to come out of the instrument.

You stretched and flipped through the notes page when you heard like music fills the air without effort, the sound rushing in and around every person in the room. You smiled and closed your eyes, leaning your head against the couch behind you. You listened to the melodies played by your boyfriend, feeling it sweep your whole body. The best thing about music was that it gave you strength and motivation. The variety of music in the universe is so diverse that there is something for everyone to enjoy. Music doesn't worry about anything; that’s the beauty of music.

You turned to Dodger and stroked his head.

"Dad is probably giving us a sign that there is enough study for today"

Dodger licked your face. “Okay, okay, that's it. Come on "you got up and stretched again. The dog jumped off the couch and followed you into the room where Chris was playing.

Chris was sitting in sweatpants and a navy blue sweater. His long fingers moved over the keyboard of the instrument, pressing the keys in the correct order so that the emerging notes formed a melody.

You walked up to him and hugged him from behind. "Thank you," you whispered in his ear and kissed his cheek.

"I'm glad you finally got away from studying. Do you like what I play?

"Very" you sat down next to him and put your head on his shoulder "Can you play any more?" you asked.

Chris kissed your head and started playing again.

Now sitting close to him and the instrument, you could hear and feel the musician much more clearly than before. Dodger lay down on his bed near you and listened too. Your eyes immediately felt heavy. You closed them, but you tried to stay awake. He had time, music surrounded the space him. You had to admit that of the many talents Chris had, this one was one of your favorites.

"I think it's time to sleep, Princess" you nodded and you let him rise you from chair. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, holding tight. "I guess I should start talking to you Koala" he laughed and you pressed your face against the hollow of his neck.

After a warm shower and putting on something to sleep, you both cuddled into each other, or rather you into Chris not allowing a minimum of a gap between your bodies. Even though you had an important exam tomorrow, you felt calm and knew that you would do well tomorrow.

THURSDAY

Quick update: there was no exam because it turned out that the lecturer did not have time to prepare the questions. You were relieved, but you were also furious because you could spend this time with your beloved men. However, you will not turn back the time, and what was now mattered.

You sat snuggled up to Chris on the couch in his mom's living room and watched as two pupies and Dodger attacked Scott on the floor. You tried not to laugh because you knew the video would end up on Instagram, but you really couldn't help but see this scene. Even Stella giggled and watched the whole thing happen. You put your cheek to Chris's shoulder when he finished recording.

"All right?" he whispered to you, seeing your eyes freeze at one point, you were thinking something

"Yes. I'm just happy. Thank you for taking me with you to your mother's Thanksgiving. Maybe I shouldn't, but I feel like I'm surrounded by my family."

"How could I not take you with me," he said in an offended tone. The invitation was obvious to him and he saw no other scenario for the day. "Honey, you shouldn't feel bad about being comfortable with my family. On the contrary, I'm glad you feel that way. It means a lot to me. And I can assure you that they also treat you like a family member." he kissed you on the lips to which you heard "ugh!" and laughed seeing Stelle covering her eyes.

Later that same day

You, Chris, Scott, and Dodger came back to Chris's house. All the way you couldn't stop laughing at the guys whining about eating too much.

As soon as you entered the house, the three men took their place on the couch in front of the TV. You rolled your eyes and being a good girlfriend, you went to the fridge for a beer.

"What have I done to deserve you," Chris said, taking a cold bottle of amber drink from you.

"Don't get used to it too much" you kissed him, "I'm going to take a shower" you add and disappeared down the hall.

"Don't you dare to let her go," said Scott, being sure you couldn't hear "If you do, I’m gonna kick your American ass." he took a sip.

"Funny." Chris laughed, "Don't worry, I'm not going to let her go."

Getting more comfortable after showering, you put on leggings and Chris's hoodie. Completely unaware that a trap awaits you as soon as you exit the master bedroom.

You've been moving around Chris's house by heart. So instead of looking straight ahead, you looked at the phone. Chris and Scott were standing behind the wall so that you couldn't see them and both of them, with video recording, waiting for you. After a while, they heard your footsteps and they both looked at each other. Chris showed three fingers as he counted. 3... 2 ... 1 ...

"Y / N !!!" they both shouted giving you a heart attack.

"Aaaaaaaaaa ... !!!" you screamed, terrified, and you jumped up and you slipped and fell. Chris grabbed you at the last minute and pulled you close. "Are you crazy ?!" you snarled.

Your heart was beating dangerously fast in your chest, your breathing couldn't slow down. Both guys were laughing when you thought you were having a heart attack.

"I'm sorry, Princess, but you were the only one I hadn't scared off yet."

"Be careful I don't scare you, you asshole," you threatened by hitting him on the chest. "How old are you? 5?"

"Oh, don't say you haven't got used to our childish behavior yet." Scott smiled at which you rolled your eyes.

"Sorry," Chris repeated and kissed the top of your head.

"You guys are so cute," commented Scott.

"That goes for you, Scott too. You both are on my blacklist," you narrowed your eyes.

Chris hugged you tighter, feeling your heart beating fast. You hugged him, cuddling up to him and trying to calm down.

About an hour later you managed to play on them and scare them. In both cases you recorded everything and with a smile on your face, pleased with yourself, sent them the video, which they both later uploaded to Instagram.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chrisevans #chris evans x reader smut #chris evans x y/n #chris evans imagine #chris evans instagram #chris evans fluff #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans fandom #my writing #new dodger photo

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ducavalentinos · 3 years

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Why do you think that Cesare helped Della Rovere become Pope? It's seems uncharacteristically...stupid? Perhaps illness and grief had made him desperate?

(Also I can't get that scene of Della Rovere hitting on Cesare in Borgia out of my head help lol)

Oh, thank you anon, for giving me the chance to vent my thoughts about the most frustrating event in Borgian history! This is long-ish, and tumblr is being weird(!!!!!!!) with the read-more link, so I'm not sure where/if it will show up below or not. Before answering your question, there is a question to be made first, I think: Why was Della Rovere still breathing in the year of 1503? If we follow the Borgias’ historical literature, the vast majority paints Rodrigo and Cesare, in particular Cesare, as unscrupulous, utterly ruthelss, vindictive men. They were the terror of Italy, and they meticulously eliminated all of their enemies. Yet, most of their enemies and their families, important to add, lived. Including Della Rovere, the most dangerous and bitterest rival of their family. What are we supposed to make of this? It's another one of those common situations in Borgian bios where what it is said is demonstrably at odds with the historical material, and it's something to ponder, I mean, Cesare only found himself in his predicament in 1503 because he and his father failed to strike down Della Rovere during those long eleven years they were in power. Their inability and/or unwillingness to do so was a graver political mistake than Cesare helping Della Rovere win the papacy in the end. And answering your question now, yes, I think the initial impression is that it does seem uncharacteristically stupid for Cesare to support Della Rovere, and help him win. But then again, I don't think Cesare's biographers are very good in showing the complexity of papal Conclaves, and the whole political landscape Cesare was in, and all the possible factors that came into play in his decision. Maybe it's a decision made not to overwhelm or bore the reader, but it usually has only one or two chapters covering both Conclaves, with a lot being left out or ignored, or simplified. The two most popular opinions are that: 1. Cesare had no choice, but to support Della Rovere. Some claim he was no longer in a powerful position, or felt lost without his father's guidance, and/or Della Rovere was the only and strongest candidate for that Conclave from the start, and his election was an impossible thing to avoid. It was already settled, and Cesare had to roll with it the best he could, and try not to make the future Pope even more hostile towards him. 2. He had other choices, namely he had cardinal Rouen, but in the end it didn't worked out, and Della Rovere stood unopposed as a candidate for the papacy, which forced Cesare to support him, and/or he apparently believed Della Rovere's promises, and thought they could reach an understanding. Opinion #1 is the most messy, and it makes zero sense to me today, given there is actual historical info reporting the contrary. The idea that Cesare's power and influence died out or diminished after his father died, or that he was lost without his guidance, are false. Prior to Della Rovere's election as Pope Giulio II, Cesare's power and influence remained strong. He still had large sums of money with his bankers in Genoa and other places of Italy, he continued to be visited daily by cardinals and orators, and indeed it even seems he was thought to be the decisive factor for any papal election. There isn't much criticism to be made either, when looking at his actions right after Rodrigo died, esp. considering at the same time he was dangerously ill himself, and it wasn't something he had prepared for, being it impossible to predict such a thing, he played all of his cards wise and correctly. He was able to secure Piccolomini as Pope, who if not a Borgia partisan, at least was not antagonistic towards him and his family. About the second Conclave, there is a report from Machiavelli in which he says cardinal Pallavicini was the only one being regarded as a possible rival to Della Rovere. And Burchard, whose info seems to have been correct in this instance, writes of a meeting that took place between Della Rovere and Cesare with the Spaniard cardinals at the Vatican, a variant of this info is of Della Rovere meeting Cesare and the Spaniard cardinals at the Castel Sant' Angelo, where they were able to reach an agreement. Opinion #2 makes a little more sense, and it matches a little bit more with the info there is, but it's still messy. Cardinal Pallavicini is almost never mentioned (only Woodward mentions him iirc), and it has to be said that even if Della Rovere succeeded in making himself an unopposed candidate, nevertheless, the Spanish vote could decide an election. So Cesare still had choices, and the reason why he didn't went with those choices, in my view, is not because he believed Della Rovere's promises, it's not the case of Della Rovere winning in the game of deception, I believe both men were aware that agreement was only temporary, and Cesare's decision there was composed by other factors. And between these two opinions, here's what I think is more plausible to have happened: Cesare, knowing his beloved tutor Giovanni Vera was as impossible a choice in that second Conclave as he had been in the first, thought about supporting the French cardinal Rouen. He was far from the ideal choice, but he was a workable choice for him. However, although his influence with the Spaniard cardinals was strong, he must have been aware his influence with them had limitations. The cardinals would never vote for a French candidate, because they were also obliged to King Ferdinand II of Spain, who also had his influence with them, and whose interests they were there in Rome to protect and represent. So much like Vera, Rouen quickly became an impossible choice for him. After this, it's reasonable to think he turned his efforts towards any candidate who stood a chance against Della Rovere, which turned out to be cardinal Pallavicini. Pallavicini is interesting, because like Della Rovere, he was also from the Liguria region (Genoa), but unlike Della Rovere, he maintained a friendly relationship with the Borgia family during Alexander VI's papacy. Rodrigo Borgia was able to secure his support during his own battle to win the papacy in the Conclave of 1492. He also counted on this cardinal's efforts when trying to nominate Cesare for the cardinalate. And he appointed him Bishop of Pamplona, a title previously held by Cesare himself. There is nothing, that I've found anyways, suggesting he and Cesare had direct interactions, but it's possible Cesare cultivated a relationship with him much in the same way he did with cardinal Piccolomini (later Pope Pius III). So by all accounts, Pallavicini was Cesare's best choice then, and it is intriguing there isn't much about this, or why Pallavicini failed to make himself Pope. In theory at least, with Cesare's support, he would have won the papacy. The Italian cardinals were not supporting Della Rovere because they wanted him, many disliked him, some still remembered the papacy of his uncle, but he seemed like a better choice than another Spaniard, or a French, or god forbid a Colonna or an Orsini, but with cardinal Pallavicini, they had a good choice there, and the only reason I can think of as to why they didn't elect him comes down to money and benefices. At some point, Pallavicini, even with Cesare's support, couldn't keep up with the resources Della Rovere made sure of having, and just like Rouen, he fell behind. From this point forward, things get more complicated for Cesare, but Della Rovere's election was still not a concluded reality. A question that follows when reading the info about him meeting with Cesare is: Would he have reached out to Cesare, the son of a man he hated to the core, from a family he despised, if his election was such a sure thing? I think the answer here is no. Della Rovere entering into an agreement with Cesare highly implies, if not proves it, he did not had the necessary votes to win. He needed the Spanish vote, 11 votes to be precise, which were under the influence of Cesare. Without the 11 votes, every single voting would end up nowhere, and a thought I believe was on Della Rovere's mind at the time was that: the longer it took for an election, the more difficult it became for him to stay as strong and unopposed. The support he had could shift in one week or two. New rivals could emerge, unexpected things could happen, because papal Conclaves were mostly unpredictable. It depended a lot on money, influence, the political situation on a daily basis, esp. in Rome, where as it was the norm without a Pope, was a city under total chaos. Della Rovere could only control so much for so long, and I think he knew that very well, hence why he swallowed his hatred, and went to negociate with the son of his archenemy, and get the 11 votes he needed to win as soon as possible.

Another question that follows after reading all this is: Ok, so why didn't Cesare used that for his advantage? better yet, why didn't he use the chaos in Rome, for example, to subtly force the cardinals to stop supporting Della Rovere and find a more favourable candidate for him? Or why didn't he simply stalled the election until a more favourable candidate appeared? These are all things he was in a position of doing, and the reason why he didn't do it, and instead went with helping Della Rovere can be better explained when considering the following factors: 1. You mentioned his grief, and his illness, which might have made him desperate, and while I don't think it was that exactly that made him desperate, I do think it counts as a factor into understanding his state of mind at that moment, and why he made that final decision. Cesare had gone through a rollercoster of events, and dare I say, emotions in less than 3 months. He lost his father, the constant and closest male presence in his life, as far as we know. He didn't had time to grieve him nor make sure he had a decent and respectful burial (it's possible he heard later what was said about his death and burial, and I have no idea how that made him feel) because he was also fighting for his life then. First against illness, then against his enemies in Rome. Not only that, other people and things depended on him. He was the head of the house then, and it fell to him the responsibility, among all that chaos, to keep the women and children of his family safe, as well as to make sure to get all the valuable possessions left in the Vatican and in his palace, before they were sacked completely by servants and others. This was an important step to ensure their survival in the coming months. Gioffre was there to help him, and he did helped, but you know, everyone looked at Cesare for leadership and protection, and he could barely leave his bed, so that surely must have added an extra layer of stress for him. But then, he succeeded in making Piccolomini pope, and it looked like the worst was over, things looked hopeful for him and the Borgia family. And then, suddenly Pius dies, only after 26 days of papacy. Again, if it was truly a natural death, there is no way Cesare could have predicted that, and just like that he was right back where he started. Having to navigate the messy political affairs of a papal conclave and its outcome, of which he and his family’s lives and future depended on. Cesare was resilient. Rodrigo raised his children to be resilient, and to not crumble at the face of adversity, to persist. But I guess we can agree this a lot for a person to process in such a short amount of time. So by the time the second Conclave happened, it would be reasonable to think Cesare might have been feeling overwhelmed, tired, in pain (he had gone through awful treatments), and overall just a bit shaken up mentally and emotionally, although he always tried to look strong and positive —it's interesting to notice it didn't seemed to have been in his nature to be a pessimist, only much later he is recorded as feeling more despondent, and saying Fortuna has left him *gets sad in spanish* — which made him more open to consider options he wouldn't have had under normal circumstances, I think. 2. As said above, Cesare seems to have had this trait in his personality of being resilient, it's one of the reasons why I think he survived for as long as he did (same with Lucrezia, I suppose), he had an instinct to not give up no matter how impossible the situation looked, of not being afraid to face adversities that came his way. He seems to have welcomed challenges, and it was when he felt most encouraged to fight and to thrive. When he was the prisoner of Della Rovere in the Vatican, then pope Giulio II, one of Giulio's men said to him: "signor duca, you have always been spirited." to which he is recorded as having said that: "quando più sono in adversità tanto più mi fortifico di anima. // the more I am in adversity, the more I strengthen my soul." So this is another factor to consider. It's possible he saw the situation with Della Rovere as just another adversity he had to face, and with his tenacity, intelligence, and most importantly, with time, he could overcome it. 3. Another possible factor, but this one is only my personal assessment after reading Alvisi and some of the documents he exposes there, is that both Rodrigo and Cesare display a difficulty in understanding not everyone was as cold-headed and pragmatic as they were. It's evident in their actions, they never had much, if any, trouble putting their personal dislikes aside, and working with their enemies, if it meant they would reach a certain goal they wanted, and/or if it avoided needless conflict or bloodshed. However, not everyone is capable of rising above their feelings, and in this case prejudices, and work like that with people they see as enemies. It was the case of Florence and Venice, for example. Every single conversation the Borgia men had with these two city-States made it painfully clear no agreement would ever happened between them. They would much rather damned themselves and their cities than to genuinely try to work with men they suspected of being marranos and who they saw as being beneath them. It was personal, deeply personal, and to a point just irrational, too. But Rodrigo and Cesare did not seemed to grasp that, like the idea of acting against one's own interest simply out of personal dislike or prejudice didn't register inside their minds, it was just preposterous to them (I agree! dsdjsdjsj). With the right terms, surely an agreement can be reached, no matter how they feel about us, that's what they seem to think, and it's a bit funny, and sad to observe. And if I'm correct here, then Cesare helping Della Rovere might have carried some of this mentality, too. Him thinking: yes, of course, Della Rovere hates me and my family, but not to his own detriment, right? (wrong, just as like in the cases of Venice and Florence, but he later learned that the hard way) and this thinking made him conclude they could work together, despite of any hatred. 4. And finally, the last factor, which I see it as the final nail the coffin, sort-to-speak: His impatience. In the middle of all this papal business, and him fighting for his life, Cesare was also receiving daily news from the Romagna, and after Pope Pius's death, the situation went from bad to worse, his dukedom was being attacked by the men he had ousted from those cities (instead of having had them executed, as it was the norm of his times) with the full support of Venice and Florence in doing so, and only a few cities, like Cesena, were able to withstand these attacks. This is what I think made him desperate. We have to keep in mind Cesare was a man of action. Sitting idle watching his project, one that seems to have been dear to him beyond just mere ambition, wasn't how he did things, and it had to be pure agony for him to be in a position where he couldn't do much. He was still ill, he couldn't organize his men well, he was pretty much trapped at the Castel Sant'Angelo since the one time he tried to leave Rome, the Orsinis almost caught him, and if they caught him, he was a dead man, him and everyone with him. And he didn't had papal authority, only with that would the attack of these cities stop and only with that could he leave Castel Sant'Angelo and finally do something, so he needed a Pope elected as soon as possible, too, even one like Della Rovere. This hurry, this agony, combined with the other factors mentioned above, very likely might have made him overlook some details about his particular situation, misunderstanding Della Rovere’s nature, and underestimating this man’s hatred for him and his family.

Personally, I believe he should have stalled the Conclave for as long as possible, and waited a more favourable papal outcome for him. Sure, it involved other risks. The main one losing all of the Romagna, but here's the thing: the Romagna was basically lost to him anyways. That region belonged to the Church and to papal rule, and Cesare's control over it came from his position as Gonfaloniere of the Church, but imo, that wasn't a position he could have kept. Popes tended to appoint this position to men close to them, family members preferably, because it was an important and influential position, and they needed someone they could trust, and whose interestes would be aligned with them and their papacy. Maybe there is a precedent of a Pope letting the son of the previous Pope in this position, instead of changing it for someone inside their own circle, and nothing bad happened either lol, but no example comes to my mind right now. And in any case, I don't think they were quite in the same situation as Cesare. Cesare's situation was kind of unique, too. He was a beloved and popular ruler, and this little fact, whether he realized it or not, made him even more of a threat to any Pope who wanted to have full control over the Papal States. It created a conflict of power where the Gonfaloniere's influence in the Romagna would have been stronger than that of the Pope himself, which could lead to dangerous situations. With a decent amount of money, the right partisans, and the people's support (who always had anti-papal feelings to being with) Cesare, if he wanted to, could very easily strike up a rebellion against papal authority. No clever Pope, surely not Della Rovere, would have wanted to have that hanging over their heads. That's way too much power for a person to have over them and their papacy. So the Romagna wasn't something possible for him to keep, unless we consider other possbilities, but that's another topic, the point is: at least with a favourable Pope, one like Pius, Cesare could have tried to secure some cities, as well as some fortresses in the lines of the Romagna, Umbria and Tuscany regions. I think that's something he could have achieved with a favourable Pope, creating a new duchy for him and his family, not as Gonfaloniere, but as the Pope's vassal perhaps. But, maybe he didn't considered that, or maybe he had info that didn't came down to us which made this scenario not an option, or info which made him feel confident with his decision with Della Rovere, as usual, this is another theme where there's many things we will never know for sure, but I hope this helped a bit into shedding a light on this confusing, frustrating event in Cesare's life. (And I don't remember that scene, anon??? lol is that the one where Della Rovere is already pope, and he wants to humiliate Cesare further so he brings him naked and in chains to his rooms? and then proceeds to take advantage of the situation, forcing Cesare to kiss him? that one? that's the only scene that comes to my mind, and I have to say I felt pretty disgusted watching it. I guess it's another example of the poor taste of much of Fontana's writing, he really seems to like taking things to an extreme and always enter this sadistic, twisted territory with his characters that really is not my thing. On the other hand, it made me appreciate Mark as an actor even more, because it's not every actor who could have put that scene off, among so many others tbh, without looking utterly ridiculous, and failing to convey any emotions to the viewer. I felt very sad for Cesare there, in Fontana's world, Cesare was a victim of rape in the past, and in that scene with Della Rovere, he was again at a vulnerable position, without any power, and being force to kiss this man who had his life and his future on his hands. It's again, a extreme and sadistic take of the real psychological torture Della Rovere seems to have had enjoyed inflicting on irl!Cesare once he was pope Giulio II.)

#ask answered #anon ask #cesare borgia #césar borgia #house borgia in history #i would answer asks a lot quicker if tumblr had a better editing system............#goddd this was awful to write and to post #and i'm sure not matter what i did #it's gonna break some paragraphs *cries*#you know i think many enter into a moral panic when dealing with the borgia family #(which i'm really not here for and i find it utterly boring and most of time incorrect)#while i just enter into a political panic #the political mistakes get to me i have to say #so wherever i get to this part of their history; apart from my feelings for cesare and his house; i suffer #i just want to correct it and to throw any and all ancient writings about octavian's life to cesare's face ok #rodrigo just had to name him cesare didn't he #this is rodrigo's fault!#😂😂😂

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miekasa · 3 years

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the pre-pancetta snippet: early december, 3 months before the world went to shit

💉levi gets sick [levi grumbles in the background]

it was the pre-pandemic flu season. levi caught it at work and just his luck, it was pretty bad for him. but healthcare is expensive, capitalism sucks, so he wore a mask and still went to work the next day, thinking bedrest during the weekend would be enough. erwin kindly dropped off some sports drinks while hange gave him a new bag of black tea leaves. oc comes home to find him almost asleep at the table while waiting for water to boil for his tea and her senses tingle. she just knows. levi is pretty out of it by then, very pissed, feeling like shit, but still thinking about the slack he has to pick up at work. oc is very concerned because he looks awful. she bugs him and asks him if he’s okay with her checking him up. he is about to tell her to piss off but what the hell, lucky his roomie’s a doctor and he’ll take free healthcare when he can. so he nods once in dramatic brooding levi fashion.

her hands are cool on his forehead and neck, it feels so good, and levi is really trying not to accidentally moan out loud. when she brings out her stethoscope and asks him to take deep breaths, his focus is on her hand absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder [levi thoughts: he’s really out of it if this is all he can focus on]. oc’s brow furrows when she finds out he’s had only one cup of tea for the entire day and only one meal the day before. he says he’s brewing more, but oc is not having it! she heats up some leftover soup she has and makes him eat before handing him a tylenol. levi feels unsteady and weak but he’s trying to keep up the i’m-fine-it’s-just-the-flu facade. oc sees right through it and tails him to his room.

she helps him to bed, all while saying he’ll need meds for the virus and he needs to eat and drink more fluids because he’ll need an IV drip if not. even if it’s just the flu, he got a pretty bad case. levi strips off his shirt before he drops onto his pillows, grumpy and dismissive, telling her to just leave the prescription. he can handle it. oc snorts before leaving him alone (for now)

levi wakes up to rustling sounds and finds oc by his bedside setting up some stuff. his head is pounding, entire body is aching, and his cough is killing his throat. he’s very grumpy and is about to tell oc to just let him be but he gets a coughing fit. oc rubs his back while checking his vitals, her voice soft with worry as she asks him how he is feeling. he says he went to the bathroom but that’s it. he doesn’t see oc frown, but he’s more than annoyed that he is disturbed when she digs him out of the blankets. she helps him sit up, propping him on his pillows, and she makes him eat more soup, drink some tea, and take his meds. his throat is cooling and he realizes belatedly that she made him strong mint tea. he’s just swallowing whatever so he can go back to sleep [levi is trying very hard not to vocalize his disappointment whenever her hands leave him]. oc sighs at the little care her patient has for himself, but she tells him that he needs a drip at this point. she’s not satisfied with how little he’s been eating and drinking. levi is ready to throw hands because he refuses to spend thousands of dollars for 2 hours at the emergency room and get scammed by health insurance just so they can give him IV fluids, but oc surprises him by saying she’s all set up, and if he’s okay with it, she can do it here.

he shrugs and holds out his hand. the skin of her hands are a little rough with a few calluses, her touch so light and sure. the needle pinches but the pain dulls after a few seconds. he watches oc taping up the line and securing his hand to some makeshift splint so it doesn’t move around much. oc hangs up the bottle on the hanger she installed on the wall lamp by his bed before heading out. levi tries to fall back into sleep again. suddenly, he feels a damp cool cloth brush his forehead and his face while another hand runs through his hair gently. he’s groggy and he squirms because what. he hears oc shushing him, saying something about sponge baths for fever, and he’s just so not used to tenderness and care, and she’s sponging down his neck and his chest, running over his arms, turning him on his side gently so she doesn’t jostle him into wakefulness. her hands are firm and gentle as they wipe down his back and it’s cool and soothing and so good over his heated skin. he falls asleep in minutes. this never happens.

he thinks oc drops in once more in the middle of the night because he remembers someone holding him up to take something. when he wakes up the next morning, his fever is gone and he feels like himself again. he sees an empty bottle on his bedside table which means oc must have changed his drip too. the one he’s hooked to is almost gone. he’s in the middle of answering a work email on his phone when oc, already dressed for work, pops in to check on him. she has a tray in hand, looking genuinely relieved and happy that he’s better. his knows his appetite is back because the smell immediately makes his mouth water. he is very hungry after 3 days of soup and tea. she made really good pancakes, fried bacon to a perfect crisp, and the scrambled eggs are savory and creamy. it’s killing him. he can forgive the tea bag from a packet. levi is still a tea snob. oc is cheery, chirping that he’s good to go without a drip as long as he keeps up his food and fluids.

oc: water, tea, or pocari sweat, levi! none of the sugary sports drinks erwin left you, that stuff is a scam.

levi: i don’t have pocari—

oc: i bought you some, they’re in the drinks cupboard!

levi: why—

oc: it’s not just sugar, it has the electrolytes you need!!

she unhooks the IV and takes out his line, lays out his medication regimen and tells him to please call her if he starts feeling bad again. levi rolls his eyes and bats her concern away, grumbling that he’s fine and well enough, but he’s listening to every word she says. he utters a small thank you because how on earth does he convey his immense gratitude in words, he is not used to words!!! his cheeks feel very warm. oc giggles and ruffles his hair. she understands her roomie’s not talkative, but his soft gaze betrays everything beneath his gruff exterior. his shyness is adorable even if he was a grumpy old man while sick. oc thinks that her theory of him being 89 years old deep inside might be right after all. she sternly tells him to rest and lay off strenuous activities until he’s really recovered.

oc: rest. no cleaning today.

levi: my room—

oc: no. cleaning. today.

and just like that, she’s off to work [levi thoughts: wtf she works on sundays?]. all that levi can think of for three days, or more like since that day, are her gentle, comforting touches, her kind smiles, and how pretty she is. he tries, he really tries to push back the thoughts and bury the memories, but all efforts become in vain for him the next week.

he’s reading on the couch and relaxing for the night when oc comes out of her room looking like a fucking goddess. she’s in a deep green dress of flowing silk with thigh-high slit, sporting a dark, vibrant red lip, complaining of some recognition ceremony she has to attend for one of her bosses at work. she pouts while slipping on pumps that make her legs look even more stunning. levi is aware that he is staring and has tuned out her voice, so he forces himself out of it. he remembers basic conversation etiquette and lamely asks about the party. oc says it’s a black-tie-long-gown thing that’s a waste of her time. she twists her hair up in a messy bun and puts on earrings, grumbling that this is the most formal she’ll go. levi is mildly amused when she says she’ll nick a bottle of good champagne and some desserts before she escapes the party in an hour. tops.

levi: what if you get caught?

oc: they can spare one bottle and a few cupcakes

levi: and what reason have you come up with if they start interrogating you?

oc: my roommate is sad and a stress-eat is essential after shitty weeks of being underpaid laborers *cheeky smile*

he rolls his eyes. when she steps out their door (her uber’s there), levi counts to ten before groaning very loudly to let his frustrations out.

but she really did steal and bring home the good stuff, squealing in excitement when she sees that he was still up. he actually waited for her to get home but she doesn’t need to know that. they shared fruit tarts and fancy mini-cakes and worked through the bottle of champagne while bonding over their mutual disdain for assholes at work. conversation was open and easy, and levi cannot remember when he has been this comfortable around others who weren’t old friends of his. he was in an old shirt and jogger shorts. oc was still in her dress, barefoot, lipstick still perfect and bun still messy, picking a strawberry off the last cake while laughing at his dry jab about her boss. and jesus christ, she was exquisite.

at this point, denial begins to trickle in, but levi doesn’t know that yet. it’s just the champagne, right?

end. this was so mf long, i’m so sorry 😭 anyway this is insanely self-indulgent, and this is me coping with the pandemic (and with SnK ending today)

AHHHHHHH I LOVE ALL OF THIS ANON!!! SO MUCH!!!! PLEASE THIS HIT ALL THE MARKS!! Levi being reluctant to having someone take care of him, oc picking up on him not feeling well even though he’s not really showing it, and eventually just giving him the care and attention he needs (without suffocating him because you know he would be grumpy about that). I love this wow, seriously.

AND THE END!! When they’re drinking together and he’s feeling better, you know damn well he didn’t even want her to leave in the first place, and IM SO GLAD HE’S FINALLY REALIZING!! Levi, my beloved, you are in love it is not the champagne 😌😌

#💉 anon #you're so lovely my dear thank you so much for sharing #i kept this for a while just to reread it i love it so much!!#levi.ask #minicanons

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lightanddarklove · 4 years

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Converse Week Day 3: Sleep

Sleep: Rest Well my Beloved

Rated: Teen | 1930 Words | Warnings: Insomnia, Misgendering, Asexual Spectrum, Childbirth and Breastfeeding discussions

Adult Converse parents. Connie and Steven are using Peanut as a nickname for their daughter, and the Tamil words for grandparents for Doug and Priayanka. Mother's father is Taata and Mother's mother is Paati.

Also, lil bit of Demisexual Steven mention when they're talking about therapy.

Steboni’s name for their daughter is from @discount-supervillain, see here for their adolescent Connie and Steven daughter that is adorable.

Thanks for reading and I love hearing from readers, please let me know what you think.

As new parents, Steven and Connie aren't getting much sleep. However, Steven seems to be actively avoiding resting, and Connie intends to find out why. Fluff with a bit of adult subjects related to childbirth. Connie-centric. Teen.

Being a new parent is hard, Connie thought to herself as she lay in bed, awoken by the sound of crying from the baby monitor. I knew that already, but actually getting as little sleep as we are, is very different from being told that you will. She sighed quietly, and was about to take off the covers when she felt the bed beside her shift. She cracked one eye open to see Steven sitting up and about to go face the crying infant in the other room. He was turned away from her and she gently reached out to touch his back.

“It’s my turn, Biscuit,” she mumbled. He stood and turned to face her with a tired half-smile.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He groaned. “You pumped enough earlier? I can get it.”

“Yeah, but you should try to get some rest,” she replied, voice thick with sleepiness.

“You can get the first diaper when the sun’s out,” he said, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Connie’s cheek. She ran a weary hand through his curls as he moved away.

“Ok,” she relented. He turned the baby monitor down, as they always did when the other is still in bed. She closed her eyes and heard him pad away. She tried to breathe deeply as his voice came from the monitor. He crooned sweetly at their crying daughter. Cries turned into whimpers as she heard her husband in the other room, comforting their baby. After a few minutes, she knew the pair had left the room to get breastmilk as they went quiet.

It would have been the best time to fall back asleep while her husband and daughter were in the kitchen. Unfortunately despite counting breaths and trying not to think about anything, her mind was drawn back to how little Steven was sleeping. I have to do something, she thought. He can’t keep this up forever. I’ll call mom, or Greg or the gems in the morning, see if they can watch Steboni sometime this week so he can get some rest.

It had been just over a week since Connie and the baby had come home from the hospital. Having her parents stay at the apartment for the first few nights had helped, but since then, Steven rarely slept before 4 am, and never more than 4 hours at a time. The bags under his eyes were getting worse, and they looked about as bad as they did when he was running Little Homeschool. When she was up for the day, she sometime spotted him curled up in a chair, squeezing in a 20 minute nap here and here. It was seldom now he looked rested.

Connie tried turning over again and sat for another few minutes before hauling herself out of bed, scrubbing her eyes. With a groan and pop of stiff joints, she stretched and made her way to the bathroom. Moments later, she emerged, and Steven still hadn’t come back to bed. She moved into the kitchen, and found it absent before looking into the living room. There, near to the center of the room, he was seated pretzel style with their daughter in the crook of his arm as she sleepily chugged down the ends of her bottle. Lion was pressed against Steven’s back, drowsily observing at the bundle in Steven’s arms.

Connie caught Steven singing ends of a lullaby she recognized as being one Greg wrote when Steven was a baby. Somber and sweet, his voice had more baritone qualities as Steven had aged, but it was still his. Connie smiled fondly.

“Things start and things end And isn’t it lovely in theory but I could never be, I could never be, I could never be ready.”

Steboni had her eyes fluttering between open and closed as he sang, so he repeated the final verse a second time. Connie quietly stepped back into their bedroom to grab her phone off the charger and snapped a picture from the kitchen doorway as he finished the song and their daughter fell asleep. She set the phone down on the kitchen counter. He still hadn’t made any indication he had noticed Connie as he gently rocked the baby in his arms. Upon Connie’s entrance into the dimly lit room, Lion flicked his ear and raised his head slightly. This finally brought Steven’s attention from his daughter to his wife. His eyes only glanced up to Connie for a moment before looking back down in adoration at their child.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Steven murmured.

“I was hoping you’d be back to bed by now,” she answered softly, stepping toward the pair.

“Hmm,” he crooned. “Our little one was fussy when I was changing her. I think she’ll go down easy now that she’s eaten though.”

“I’ll take her to the crib,” Connie offered in a whisper.

“I would say no, that I can do it, but I’m actually pretty comfy right now,” he replied. “You don’t mind?”

“I got you, Biscuit.” Connie snuck her hands into Steven’s arms and cradled their daughter carefully, supporting the neck as her mother had taught the young parents. She held the infant, rocking gently, and strode to the nursery, setting her down with the utmost care. With a smile, Connie tucked a loose curl into her daughter’s beanie, and tiptoed back into the living room.

Steven slouched against Lion comfortably. He gave her a lopsided grin as she sat down on the floor beside him, calves tucked under her thighs, so she was at the proper height to rest her head on his shoulder. She took one of his hands in hers and rested in on her thigh, rubbing circles on the softened palm with her thumb. He lazily stroked her leg with two fingers.

He pressed a kiss to her temple and he hummed, “Thanks for that, Strawberry.”

“Anytime,” she mumbled into his shoulder. She straightened slightly so she could look into his eyes. “Are we going back to bed, or we staying here for a while?”

“What’s the rush?” he asked. “Stay and sit a spell, I’m in no hurry.”

“You need your sleep, Steven.”

“Eventually, yes, but I could fall asleep here.”

“You’ll wake up with a sore neck.”

“I can live with that. It’s so warm next to Lion and with you here, I have no reason to get up until the baby does.”

“Are you having a hard time falling asleep in bed?” she asked with undisguised concern.

“We’re parents to an infant,” he said, tone apathetic, “there’s no way that we’re sleeping through the night anytime soon. I’m not in a hurry to get in bed, sleep for two hours and wake up again. I’d rather sit here with you. I can sleep later.”

“I said I’d take the next diaper,” she replied. “You did two in a row, plus I think you gave her the last of the breastmilk I had pumped, so I’ll need to get it anyway.” He leaned into her and hummed in thought.

“You could… try pumping while sitting next to me so we can snuggle?”

“Oh that would be very sexy of me.” She said, voice thickly sarcastic.

“I watched you give birth?” he replied, voice trailing upward as he spoke, “Do you think that if that couldn’t scare me away, watching you use a breast pump would?”

“I’m pretty sure most of the time you were crying or had your face in your hands,” she teased.

“Berry, I was worried…” he whined.

“And everything with me and our daughter is fine now, so I’m worrying about you.” She pointed to his chest as she spoke. “So why aren’t you sleeping?”

“No fair,” he pouted, looking away. “I just wanted to cuddle and now you wanna make me talk about serious stuff.”

“What’s serious about it?” Her hand reached his cheek and pulled his face toward hers for a kiss. After they pulled apart he sighed.

“I know this is a long road ahead of us, but I don’t want to miss any of it.”

“Parenting is not a sprint, but-“she recited.

“It’s a marathon.” They said together. He looked away again, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I know,” he muttered, “but even when I try to sleep I just end up thinking about everything that can go wrong.”

“It’s scary, but we’re lucky we have a lot of support.” She replied comfortingly. “We have Paati and Taata, Pops Greg, Auntie Amethyst, Nana Pearl, Gemma Garnet…”

“I still can’t believe she picked that nickname,” Steven sniggered.

“And, Sadie, Lars and Sour Cream have all offered to babysit too. So if you can stop worrying, and want to go rest for a while, I’ve got backup. It’s not all on you, or me, just know that we have people who we can depend on. And as for worrying about missing stuff, we can take pictures, you’ll see almost everything, even if you can’t be here for it. We’re a long way off from missing first word territory. First real smile and laugh are probably at least a month away.”

“So what you’re saying is, ‘trust me, we got this’?”

“Well that, and get some sleep. Anything else bothering you?” She took his head in both her hands and batted her eyes at him, a coy smile on her face. He tried to keep a neutral expression but once she raised her eyebrows repeatedly his composure broke.

“Ok, nightmares have been getting the better of me again.”

“You need a new therapist.” She gave his face a gentle squish and moved her hands to wrap around his neck.

“Tell me about it. She moved to Jersey, who retires in Jersey?”

“Aren’t people who retire supposed to go closer to the equator? Where its warmer?” she joked.

“I need a referral, the guy who has her office now does not understand men who aren’t very sexual. Or the gender stuff about how gems mostly refer to themselves as she and since I don’t usually, it bothers me when I’m misgendered.” He dragged his hands down his face. “I hate dealing with insurance stuff. It feels so tedious and frustrating.”

“So here’s what we’re gonna do. It’s time for you to go back to bed. I’ll stay up to pump. Then I’ll send out some emails to see who’s available to babysit what days this week. I’ll make arrangements, so on one of those days, you can see your doctor and get the referral. And if you want me to sit on hold with your insurance so you can get other things done, I will.”

“You’re the best,” he sang. Then more quickly he said “I don’t deserve you.”

“None of that talk, Biscuit.” She patted his face as she spoke.” You’ll feel better once you sleep. Peanut is all mine until after I call your doctor, that won’t be until after 8:30. So get some rest.”

“You’re the boss,” he replied. He gave her a tender kiss and unfolded his legs to stand. Unsteadily, he pulled himself to his feet. After gaining his bearings, he turned and offered his hand to his wife. She grasped it and tugged herself up, wincing.

“Ow, leg cramp.”

“I can fix that,” he said, scooping her into his arms, pulling her Pajamas up and kissing her calves. She squirmed and giggled as he carried her into the bedroom. “I can’t sleep unless you’re happy, so let me make you happy!”

“That wasn’t the deal!” she gasped, half irritated, half chuckling. “Go to bed!”

#JambudWeek #Connverse #Connverse Week #Fanfiction #Steven Universe #Steven Universe: Future #Connie Maheswaran #my precious gem child #Adult Converse #New Parents #Connverse Baby #Childbirth #Insomnia #Breastfeeding #Fluff #This is the Softest thing I've ever written #Non-Betad #SU Fanfic #my writing

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sailor-cresselia · 5 years

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Before Episode 39 airs, and josses the heck out of everything here, I want to get this theory out of the way, as to how Sougo could be Oma Zi-O, but not have actually turned evil.

For a while, I was thinking that Oma Zi-O was never Sougo at all, but instead was Another Zi-O.

Then we actually got Another Zi-O.

SO. Here’s some approximately collected data points that show that Oma Zi-O could, in fact, be Another Zi-O and Sougo.

My mostly coherent points are under the cut. As always, let me know what you think. Feel free to add on in reblogs, keep the convo going! (For as long as we can, anyway.)

Fact 1.

A Kamen rider can become an Another Rider. We’ve seen this happen three times thus far. The first was Dan Kuroto, normally Kamen Rider Genm, becoming Another OOO. The second was Rentaro, who is intended to, in the future, become Kamen Rider Shinobi, instead becoming Another Shinobi. Rentaro’s incident adds another point – a Kamen rider can become their own Another Rider, should time travel be involved in the creation of one or the other. The third is Yaguruma, normally Kamen Rider KickHopper, becoming Another Kabuto. In his case, he’s still KickHopper, demonstrating that a rider, even if turned into an Another Rider, can still have access to their original form, assuming that there’s no timeline-erasure interference.

Fact 2.

Power copying is not uncommon in this season. it is, in fact, one of the two main gimmicks – and can be doubled up upon. Firstly, Zi-O himself has one base powerset, that of his standard weapons. (And possibly time manipulation, but that’s not relevant right now.) He can then compliment this with a RideWatch, letting him borrow the powers of a different Kamen Rider. Additionally, this powercopying can, in fact, stack. We first saw this with an Another Rider, who was both Fourze and Faiz simultaneously. The next example of power stacking is when Zi-O uses the Decade RideWatch. It allows him to use Decades version of power copying to upgrade his own, resulting in Zi-O obtaining a version of a rider’s upgraded form.

Another Zi-O took powercopying to a new level, by copying Zi-O’s ability to copy powers. He was able not only to mimic this ability, in a manner more akin to Another Fourze-Faiz, but also to turn other people into prior Another Riders, both via using their AnotherWatches. Another Zi-O can use them on his own, in a manner akin to Sougo, in order to transform himself, or in a manner akin to the time jackers, on other people, in order to transform said people into Another Riders under his command.

Fact 3.

Another Riders can become Kamen Riders. Or, well, this isn’t the entire truth. They are not the Riders themselves, but… If a RideWatch is used on the matching Another Rider, said person transforms from the kaijin form that is inherent to being an Another Rider into the proper form of the Kamen Rider. This was seen with Another Another Agito, who had the newly-formed Agito Ridewatch shoved into him, and proceeded to take the form of Agito himself.

Now, as to how Oma Zi-O could be Another Zi-O...

Point 1.

Firstly, the Another Zi-O watch was destroyed… temporarily. The entire Another Zi-O arc showed that the Another Watches can be recreated from the people who originally hosted them, allowing for Another Zi-O to make use of his matching Rider’s powerset. When his watch was destroyed, it reformed itself, rewinding time. We have yet to see where the Another Zi o watch went after that.

No big deal, just manipulating the flow of time itself…

One of Sougo’s innate psychic powers.

That he has without being transformed.

Point 2.

Another ZiO used his ridewatches a similar method to Zi-O, but not exactly. Sougo has armor themed around the Riders, but Another Zi-O takes their exact form. He does this by holding the Another Watch close to where his belt would be, if he had one, and activating it. This is also, IIRC, how he activates his own transformation into Another Zi-O.

Point 3.

Oma Zio does not insert his RideWatches into his driver the way that Zi-O does. In fact, he doesn't insert them at all. He uses the bezel wheel and button, activates them, and uses the attacks – no form change required. His belt doesn't even appear to have a place to attach ridewatches at all – be they additional ones or his own.

Point 4.

We did not, in fact, actually see Oma Zio transform when we went to 2068. We saw him stand up – we might have heard him say ‘transform’. But we did not see the process. What we did see was a large explosion go up around the ‘civilian’ form of Oma Zi-O, and then he emerged in his Rider Form.

Point 5.

The one shot of Sougo’s alleged ascension to being Oma Zio that we have seen, from when Oma’s Day / The Day of Oma was first described to him by Geiz and Tsukuyomi, also did not show a transformation sequence. Instead, it appeared to show a series of warped rings forming around ‘Sougo’. While this can now be said to look similar to a darker version of the Zi-O II transformation, we didn’t have that at the time, and it seemed more chaotic than the clockwork movements of Zi-O’s transformations.

We have seen Another Riders transform. Said transformation includes clouded, viney, thorny rings circle around the civilian, leaving the Another Rider form in their wake when they dissipate. This applied to Another ZiO, as well, whose ‘vines’, IIRC, looked somewhat more orderly than most Another Riders, although I’d have to check.

Now, as for why Oma Zi-O could be Another Zi-O, and still be Sougo…

Swartz has told the other Time jackers that they are seeking out Another Riders to be candidates for ascending to ‘King of all riders’. However, we’ve seen that he appears to have his candidate chosen, multiple times.

He never gave the Another Riders he selected a choice in the matter, never mentioning the king aspect to them, unlike Heure and Hora.

He acted as though Hiryuu, aka Another Zi-O, was his candidate for a while. As I said when he pulled Another Zi-O away from the Geiz Revive debut fight... “After all, who better to be the king of riders than someone using all of their powers?”

But this was overlooking something. Information we didn’t yet have about the bus accident that tied Hiryuu and Sougo together.

It was caused by Swartz, who did something to Sougo, and led him to believe the entire chaotic incident in the future was a dream… a dream asking – no – telling him to become king.

Swartz has had his candidate all along, and it is Sougo Tokiwa.

So why the subterfuge?

Well, Sougo can’t inherit the powers of all riders if there’s no reason for him to do so. Thus, creating the another riders is necessary, to force Sougo’s hand. But in that case, why would Swartz make an another rider of Zi-O?

Because Another Zi-O inherits even more powers, those of the Another Riders – the dark copies of good men.

Oma Zi-O is a tyrant calling himself beloved. Another riders, those who keep their minds, anyway, always think what they are doing is justified. Their judgement is warped by the another watches and the power.

Now, I definitely can’t say what the deal with this new “uniting Tsukuyomi’s time abilities with Sougo’s” is, but…

If a certain bastard in purple were to take a ridewatch that should have shattered, but didn’t…

If a ridewatch can warp a persons personality just as much as it warps the power it’s duplicating.

If he didn’t give a boy who wants to be a great king a choice in the matter.

A rider with powers over time might have lost enough of himself to become a demon king, and convince himself that he is a beloved overlord.

#kamen rider zi o #getting this out there before Team Den O debunks all of it in one fell swoop #made it with an hour and a half to spare #sailorcressy says #sailorcressy looks way too much into things

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porchwood · 6 years

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THG Reread: Interesting Tidbits from Ch 1

Disclaimer: I’ve never taken part in any official THG reread/discussion and I essentially read the book in isolation, so anything I say in these posts may well have been discussed and dismissed years ago.

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and crawled in with our mother.

I find it interesting that Prim leaves Katniss to find comfort with their mother, especially since Katniss seems to see herself as Prim’s sole protector and provider. Are Prim and Mrs. Everdeen closer than Katniss realizes (having such an abrasive relationship with her mother as she does) or is it simply that Mom will always be Mom and in a moment of terror most children prefer the embrace of their mother over a sibling?

Also: sleeping directly on a rough canvas-covered mattress? Are bed sheets are that great a luxury in the Seam? :(

I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my hunting boots. Supple leather that has molded to my feet. I pull on trousers…

So she gets out of bed and puts on her boots, then her trousers... So...girl’s a firefighter, right? :D

(Sorry for the crummy pics. Apparently the Tumblr presence of the Emergency! fandom is microscopic at best - I guess that happens with a ‘70s show :P - so these are screenshots I made from the S1 DVD, because yes, I’m that big of an Emergency! fangirl and you can never have too much Johnny Gage!)

It gives “girl on fire” a whole new meaning!! ;D

All merriment aside, we know that fire was a constant danger in the Seam, with its “old wooden homes embedded with coal dust,” so it’s entirely possible that residents slept with trousers and boots in readiness at the bedside, to be stepped into at a moment’s notice for a rapid escape if needed.

I…tuck my long dark braid up into a cap…

This has been discussed in previous rereads so it really isn’t news, but I’d love to see more Katniss-in-a-cap popping up in fics and fanart. THG opens in summertime and she’s still wearing the cap, so it was definitely a staple of her wardrobe! (And it brings us a little closer to the girl-disguised-as-a-boy trope, which is one of my all-time faves! :D)

(Behold this adorable @ghtlovesthg rendering!)

Our part of District 12, nicknamed the Seam, is usually crawling with coal miners heading out to the morning shift at this hour…

Somehow I had always (erroneously) assumed that there was just one twelve-hour shift that all the miners worked (ex. 6am-6pm). Since artificial light would be required inside the mines anyway, I suppose they could work around the clock with no regard to the sun and stars. Folks who live in/near coal mining communities: do they generally operate 24 hours a day or is there some arbitrary cut-off point in the evening? (I’m sorry I’m so ignorant about this!)

Most of the Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to the few of us who hunt…

Has anyone else figured out who these mysterious additional hunters are??

I watch as Gale pulls out his knife and slices the bread. He could be my brother. Straight black hair, olive skin, we even have the same gray eyes. But we’re not related, at least not closely.

First off: it truly befuddles me that Katniss’s hair color is stated on page 8 of THG (though, interestingly, never explicitly afterward) and yet it’s unusual - maybe even rare - to find fanart or even fics that depict her with black hair. Why is that? I was in love with her long black hair from moment one (truly black hair is unique, at least in my part of the world, and so striking to boot) so I probably belabor it a bit in my own writing, but it’s such an exquisite feature, why would you not?

Secondly: “He could be my brother.” That feels significant, and not merely in the “we look alike” sense. I’ve been working on a post about how Gale came into Katniss’s life in a very significant fashion after her beloved father’s death and she was drawn to him because of certain (I would venture to say striking) commonalities, but as I was wrapping it up last night (and sharing various details with my favorite sounding-board @ghtlovesthg), I realized there was a whole - vitally important - flipside to my theory that absolutely cannot be overlooked. So I might not get that finished till we’re on CF or even MJ. (No spoilers just in case someone pips me at the post - pun inadvertent ;) - but I think it’s pretty cool!)

And thirdly, because I can’t resist: I headcanon that Gale and Katniss are cousins through their great-great-grandfather (Galen Greenbrier, if anyone cares :D), who had two daughters (Aisling and Elspeth), who each had a daughter (Wren and Ashpet), who had Hazelle and Jack (Mr. Everdeen), who begat Gale and Katniss, respectively. Ergo: related but “not closely,” per canon. :)

With both of us hunting daily…

I’d always thought Gale and Katniss only hunted a few times a week, with Sundays being their largest haul/best trading day. (“Usually we devote all of Sunday to stocking up for the week.”) I know Twelve is an unusually permissive district at this point in time, but if two Seam kids were sneaking back and forth under the fence every single day and (forgive me) flaunting the fact by selling game in town (and when did they do this? before school, after, both?), surely, inevitably, the Peacekeepers would have been obliged to do something about it. Or were there some trips where Gale and Katniss only brought back enough for their own families, making their illegal activities not quite so blatant?

Cross-referencing with Catching Fire, I find Katniss saying, “Back when we were in school, we had time in the afternoons to check the lines and hunt and gather and still get back to town to trade” - exactly what time did they get out of school and how late were they doing these trades (not to mention, when did anyone get homework done)?? - but she also says it’s “an hour-and-a-half trek” just to check the snare line. I guess it isn’t impossible, but it seems a much more extensive (and time-consuming!) arrangement than I would have thought they could get by with, even in Twelve.

We easily trade six of the fish for good bread…

Like the rest of you, I’m trying to figure out who’s selling this “good bread” at the Hob. For some odd reason, at one point I thought maybe the bakery’s day-olds were sold there, à la:

They could potentially sell said day-olds at less of a discount than merchant clientele would demand but the reduced prices would be low enough for some Seam clientele to afford, and of course, even day-old bakery bread would be superior to homemade tessera bread (and therefore: “good bread”).

I’m not sure where I got the “bakery outlet” idea (I think it was all the early canonverse fics where Katniss ran into Peeta in the Hob, so I figured he was running a day-olds stall or something) but having been away from it for awhile, I actually kind of like it! :)

You become eligible for the reaping the day you turn twelve.

I’m going to wax exceedingly about reaping ages in another post, but for the moment: I presume this rule means that anyone who turns twelve between reaping days becomes eligible for the subsequent reaping, correct? So if we arbitrarily set the reaping at, say, June 1, someone whose birthday is on June 2 wouldn’t be eligible till the following year. (Which would be especially terrible for your 18-yr-old reaping: being a day away from 19 and freedom, of a sort, but still having to go through one last reaping.) Now I think of it, it’s possible Career districts took advantage of this. Highly invested parents in a Career district could have planned their pregnancies with the intent of a late summer birth (i.e., a month or two after reaping day) so the resulting children would have the advantage of extra months up on other tributes in their same age group.

On the flipside of this: Prim, whose birthday is in late May, would be an especially young tribute, since she’s only just turned twelve (think school kids with summer birthdays who don’t turn the “right age” for their grade till 1-3 months after school is out), and similarly Katniss, whose birthday is May 8, would be on the young side of the group of sixteens.

“Pretty dress,” says Gale.

Madge shoots him a look, trying to see if it’s a genuine compliment or if he’s just being ironic. It is a pretty dress, but she would never be wearing it ordinarily. She presses her lips together and then smiles. “Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don’t I?”

Now it’s Gale’s turn to be confused. Does she mean it? Or is she messing with him? I’m guessing the second.

Gaaah, so much going on here! I can’t decide if I want to make a proper Gadge post, so in the meantime, here’s some food for thought:

1) Why does Gale remark on her dress? Really - give me suggestions, because I’ve been turning it over in my head. If it’s meant to be ironic and she gives him sarcasm in reply (as seems to be the quintessential Gadge dynamic :D), it’s odd that he would be confused and not have a volley/riposte/etc of his own on deck. I mean, Katniss doesn’t seem to know (or at least, doesn’t clarify in her narration) whether or not it’s a compliment -

2) Which is interesting, because she guesses straightaway that Madge is “messing with him” in reply. ;)

3) Gale gives Madge what outwardly seems like a compliment and this is what ensues. One might surmise they’ve done this before... :D I mean, if there was no precedent, Madge would’ve just said “thank you” and exchanged money for berries. Since the mayor is such a valuable customer (being one of very few who can afford their asking price for strawberries), it’s interesting that Gale would antagonize Madge and risk losing the strawberry trade - not to mention bringing up the subject of tesserae at the mayor’s back door on reaping day! Does he take similar potshots at other merchants or is it just Madge? Is he irked (even threatened) by Katniss’s friendship with Madge? (I love that Katniss immediately defends Madge in the face of Gale’s tesserae rant. ♡) Does he feel like he can sound off at her (with impunity) because she’s Katniss’s friend? Or is he secretly crazy about her and resigned to the fact that he’ll never get her but the reminders of the impassable gap between them still incense him? Sorry, my hand slipped there for a sec. ;)

Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected.

I didn’t recall this line from previous reading and it just makes me happy. :)

To my surprise, my mother has laid out one of her own lovely dresses for me. A soft blue thing with matching shoes. [...] For a while I was so angry, I wouldn’t allow her to do anything for me. And this is something special. Her clothes from her past are very precious to her.

I’d never caught the “matching shoes” bit before! Do you suppose Katniss means dyed [blue] to match/covered with matching fabric (so that’s what they do at the shoe shop!) or simply that they go well with the dress? And if she means that the shoes literally match the dress: is this a particularly special dress (hence particularly special shoes) or is it customary for merchant girls to order shoes to match their dresses?

And further: why this year? It doesn’t sound like Mrs. Everdeen has offered one of her apothecary-era dresses before, which could have been due to Katniss’s repeated rebuffs, but still: why offer one of those very precious dresses this year? Did she have a feeling about this reaping? Or is she starting to see Katniss as a young woman, not just an angry, resourceful child? (Coupled with the fact that she subsequently puts Katniss’s hair up, the latter makes a lot of sense.)

On a sidenote: Has anyone written meta on the significance/usage of braids in Twelve? (Notwithstanding WTM: Ch 13 and all that Mellark bridal braids/braid coils/engagement hairpin business.) Ex. Does a girl "graduate” from pigtails to a single braid around puberty and then to a crown braid as a young woman/wife, or does she/her mother simply style it however she feels on any given day? I’m just now realizing that I consistently picture reaping day!Prim in pigtails because of the film, but it doesn’t state in the text how her hair is styled, so it might be in a single braid or held back at the temples with a clip or even worn loose.

The square’s surrounded by shops, and on public market days, especially if there’s good weather, it has a holiday feel to it.

I’m really curious about “public market days,” since the Hob seems to be Twelve’s primary market - or at least, has become so in fanon - but Katniss makes a clear distinction between them (“Make only polite small talk in the public market. Discuss little more than trades at the Hob, which is the black market where I make most of my money”). Is this public market like a farmer’s market or a craft fair - or a bit of both? Is it simply the “merchant version” of the Hob? How often are they held? Who gets to sell at this market, and what sort of wares are we talking about? (Is it just merchants bringing their product outside, like a sidewalk sale?) Does the Capitol/Justice Building collect a fee from everyone wanting a stall/booth/table?

Edit: While looking up details for a different post, I found this passage:

Gale and I went to the market on the square so that I could buy dress materials [for Prim].

So apparently they sold fabric and notions in the public market? (Not at, say, a mercantile/general store?) I’m wholly confused now!

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iwritethat · 6 years

Text

UnreQUITed - Part 2

Request: Would you be willing to write a part two of "UnreQUITed"? If you're not too busy with other requests? I'd greatly appreciate it, thank you so much!

Could you please do a part two to unreQUITed? It was so good! ❤️

Part 2 requests in general tbh

A/N: Here it is and I doubt it’s what you all were expecting... 😭

>>>>——————————>

~ Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~

Disappearing was probably the best decision you'd ever made, you'd returned to your roots - the heartless nature that made you once again assassin material. Although, you were not exactly in that line of work since you'd sworn off of killing for Dick Grayson long ago.

It wasn't that bad, with the amount of money you earn from gathering intel and obtaining certain items for your previous wealthy clientele, it was easy to maintain a luxurious lifestyle whilst on the run.

As expected, it would soon come to an end with the passing months but never did you imagine you'd be working a weapons merchant when it happened.

In your defence, you were there to retrieve the priceless stolen pistol of your client, one that had diamond encrusted detailing, used silver bullets and was the colour of silky ivory. As a result of its unique beauty, said arms dealer kept it on his person as a display of power - you were basically his right hand/resident charmer.

The meeting was interrupted when a set of crimson arrows soared through the air striking down his men with miraculous precision - however, due to your amplified reflexes you effortlessly caught the one targeting your heart. Not that you had one anymore.

Since the place was being raided anyway, you gave a tired sigh when knocking out your boss, his body falling to unconsciousness on the cold tile of the office whilst you apprehended the pistol. Just then, a henchmen flung through the door followed by his attacker who appeared to be wearing a red - oh no.

"(Y-y/n)?! You're alright and here?! Fuck I missed you!" This was weird, Jason immediately disarmed and embraced your confused form. The gesture was loving and kind, one that showed he truly did care and you almost felt guilty for not bidding adios to him personally.

"I- Jay I didn't..."

"And Hell nice suit/dress."

"Haha, do I look good?"

"You always look good. What are you doing here anyway - and why are you stealing my thunder?" The Red Hood crossed his arms expectantly, waiting for your answer.

"Ah, I'm working." A simple but honest statement on your part.

"Working - please tell me it's nothing bad I should worry about and fight you over? Also, that why you taking his gun?"

"Wow, don't you trust me Jason? I know I've been gone a while but I used to be your go to if I wasn't with your brother. Anyways, gotta go." You claimed, edging around him rather smoothly before disappearing into the night.

You weren't stupid, he was probably tracking you now because Jason hated losing people and he'd be damned if he let you vanish again. So later that night you sat casually atop a rooftop overlooking your city of the week in normal attire simply awaiting his arrival and moping about your awkward client. Your confederate had been travelling and now the new drop off point was freaking Gotham - it could be worse, it could be Blüdhaven.

A fleck of shimmering ambers filled your peripheral vision and displayed a smiling Kori and dangling Roy.

"(Y/n)! It's been so long dear friend."

"Wait?! This is (Y/n)?! The lackey that caught my arrow - damn Dick used to talk about you all the time. I can see why Jason mentioned you on a few occasions too." Roy cockily saluted in greeting once marvelling at who your actually were.

"Yeah yeah Harper you finally met (Y/n) (L/n), good for you. You knew I was coming huh?" Jason's voice mocked from behind you, accompanying his heavy footsteps.

"What a guess, I'm glad you've learnt something in my absence. Now how can I help you Outlaws?" Your response was sarcastic but playful.

"Actually I wanted you to join us, my answer is yes albeit late."

You clicked your tongue, and shook your head dismissively. "You didn't need me then Jason, so you don't need me now. Besides I'm better off on my own, if I run with you and Dick finds out we'll both be in trouble - only unlike you I can't be around him."

"At least come back to Gotham with me and catch up a bit? You didn't only leave your beloved Dickiebird behind y'know." Jason’s words were kind of a low blow but suited to the man they originated from.

"Okay, I owe you that." You punched the cocky anti hero in the shoulder and you had a meeting there anyway, 20% extra pay due to the change in location of your client.

~~~

Gotham City. It was strange being back to be honest and you had no intention of sticking around once you'd hit the drop off. The first thing on your checklist, as soon as you'd split from the Outlaws upon arrival, was meeting your client and returning his expensive lost artefact meanwhile attaining a large sum in your bank account. However, it seemed as one door closes, many more open thanks to the contacts your client has on hand. You weren’t the only renegade he knew and it seemed this job was most likely a set up judging by your clients chosen company.

"Ah, it's been a while (Y/n) (L/n)." That voice, it sent shivers down your spine, it was unmistakeable - one whose orders you mindlessly obliged by for many years until Dick saved you.

"It has. And I'd prefer it to be longer, good ridence." You didn't even bother turning to face him, hand waving in dismissal.

"What would your little birdie think of that behaviour? In fact I've heard you aren't fighting together anymore - what's a Nightwing without his heart hm? Now if you comply again, we won't have to find out will we?" The arrogant figure knew he'd struck a nerve as soon as you'd froze at the mention of a repressed ally. He had your high class skills hostage now, because even if you didn't love him, how could you let anyone lay a finger on Dick Grayson?

~~~

Clad in civilian attire, you propped yourself against the wall, a majority of your weight leaning on your back and foot kicked up on the bricks. Jason Todd emerged from the take away joint soon after, tossing a paper bag in your direction that shattered your dwelling on that recent but haunting memory. You gave him a questioning look once peering inside.

"How'd you know my favourite order?"

"Dick knew, I found out from him."

"Does he know?! That I'm here in Gotham? With you?"

"Nah, give me some credit doll."

"Don't call me that, anyway how've you been?" You began a nostalgic conversation, old memories and past experiences retold like a towns fable that kept you occupied until your food was tossed.

A melodious laugh escaped your lips, recalling one of your adventures.

"Miami was the best, this lovely woman tried- oh nooo..." As well as your speech, your body short circuited too when taking in the glimpse of raven hair and blue eyes, you'd have been fine if it wasn't so recognisable.

Jason suspiciously gazed in your line of sight and mentally facepalmed, he should've known that the Gods or Demons would've tried to bring you together again. Thankfully, Dick's attention was solely focused on Damian and before he could process what was happening you'd dragged Jason into the nearest alley and pinned him to the wall with a hand covering his mouth. Jason cocked a brow, removing your hand with a 'seriously?' look crossing his features but alas, your eyes were trained on his brother.

"Hey, relax. Focus on me instead or better yet getting out of this?"

"He's right there. I could go straight up and say hi, tell him that I've missed him... I could do that."

“I know, and in the interest of that promise you forced on me, the keeping you un-lovestruck one, you better forgive me for this.” The vigilante ensured your presence by wrapping his arms around your waist, closing the distance between you which now had your full attention since you couldn’t get away.

“Restraining me? Guess I should be thanking you huh.” You sighed hopelessly, cursing at Cupid for ever concocting his dysfunctional theory of love.

“Todd, thought we saw you run.” Damian called, his tone doubling as a warning. Of course the Wayne recognised you and wanted nothing more than to welcome you home but knew how you felt about Dick. It was best to leave matters for now instead attempting to delay his eldest sibling.

Internally you were freaking out, but you knew the youngest well enough to understand the hidden meaning - he was giving you time. He intentionally made an appearance before Dick could catch Jason, you didn’t have long but hopefully the shadowy uneven lighting of the alleyway would aid your concealment.

Hearing the fast approaching footsteps, you turned away from the alley entrance desperately praying that he wouldn’t recognise the back of your head as you shifted further into Jason’s touch. However, Jason was the quick thinking one, moving to capture your lips with his own, at first you were surprised but melted into it - people avoid PDA, it should encourage them to leave sooner.

“Damian, you could’ve waited you know. Huh hey I knew it was you Jay, and your partner...?” Dick Grayson, oh boy he was still amazing.

You clenched Jason’s leather jacket, palms sweating from the mere ripples of the lost tone as you pulled away from him. You’d hoped you’d forget his kind voice, the way it gently tugged at your heartstrings in a charming manner that always sped up your heartbeat, the way it sounded like a melody and was capable of reanimating the past memories you’d spent hearing it, how well it fitted into your life and fuelled your heart. As much as your love begged you, you couldn’t look at him and show your face or else he’d know instantaneously.

“Thanks for interrupting, whatcha want?” Jason casually stated, running a hand almost gingerly down your side.

“это личные дела, моя любовь. [[These are private matters my love.]]” Now the Russian accent was perfection and the language was fluent, convincing enough to be believable as you’d only learnt it in your absence meaning it was one less thing Dick could link to your identity. You certainly knew Richard could understand Russian, Jason too so when you felt him uncharacteristically melt, muscles relaxing and heart rate increasing upon hearing your last two words maybe he misheard?

“I’ll catch up with you both later but I’m on business right now.” Jason carefully informed them, sending a wink to his brothers signifying it was vigilante related and that was enough for them. With nods and goodbyes they were gone.

“My love? (Y/n), you learnt Russian?!” Jason asked breathlessly once they’d disappeared, however instead of being met with your usual blissful smile you were briskly removing sparkling tears.

You took a step back, trying to focus on anything else - a flare of disappointment sparked within you, you’d wholeheartedly believed you were over the mesmerising acrobat but that was easier to argue when not in his drawing presence as you’d recently learnt. Jason could only give you a sympathetic look as you built up your walls again, apparently weaker than you thought.

“They probably thought I was a Russian drug lord.” You forced laughter and a smug smile as the situation was amusing, but barely managing it through your silent sobs over Grayson.

“You’d make a good drug dealer.” The male in front of you automatically comforted, compliments always came easy with you no matter how distorted they were.

“Ahem, anyway thanks for the food but I should go back to my hotel. The quicker I leave Gotham the better.” It didn’t take long for you to fix yourself, saluting Jason who had offered to walk you back to your hotel.

The stroll provided time to say goodbye, as much as you weren’t expecting it he told you to keep in contact this time.

It was nice actually, to know they still cared about you even now and after your first disappearance. The thought put a warm flutter in the pit of your stomach, however that soon dispersed as you reached your bed. On it was a pristine box decorated with a matte black bow; one you hesitantly untied and begrudgingly opened.

The noir silk cascaded to the floor once you lay your eyes on its familiar contents, shades of the amber and black armor withholding your attention span. The suit was accompanied by a mocking note of your last encounter, the inscription ringing of that dark voice you never wanted to hear again as you read over it in your mind tenfold with blood pulsating at an unfathomable pace - it was like you could feel every cell throbbingly reject the so called ‘gift’. But after encountering him amidst the pistol exchange, the threat he’d made rang strong.

‘Welcome back, “моя любовь” was it? ~ Slade Wilson.’

#dick grayson #jason todd #nightwing #red hood #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #dc #dc imagine #batfam #slade wilson #deathstroke #UnreQUITed

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moricatlibrary · 7 years

Text

Blanket Fort

Eren and Armin spend their date night in a blanket fort.

A short fic dedicated to @megumegufire because idk she’s great and I wanted to give her something ;3;

Enjoy if you can! (has some sexual themes<3)

Eren stirred the curry he was cooking with a smile, declaring it finished just in time for Armin to get home from work any minute now. Friday was his favorite day of the week. He had the day off to stay home, rest up, clean around the apartment, get a nice dinner together, and prepare for his night with Armin. Friday usually meant marathoning a show or movie series, playing games, sharing a hot bath, or having shameless, passionate sex, whatever they could enjoy doing together at home for a night. Tonight, they planned on watching Samurai Flamenco yet again, Armin’s favorite anime and one even Eren was starting to quote in Japanese for how often they’d seen it together. And such an occasion called for curry, using an Indian recipe that Eren finally had the chance to try out. “Hope he likes it… Hmm… Better add a little more pepper just in case…” he thought to himself, never really sure when a dish was spicy enough to suit Armin’s zest for it.

Suddenly, the sound of a key turning the lock on the door hit the air and Eren grinned to himself for his beloved’s return. He quickly removed his apron and rushed to meet him at the door before it even opened, but within a second, the dripping wet blond man came in, shaking his umbrella a little before placing it in the stand.

“There he is! Ah, I guess the storm caught you, huh? Anyway, welcome home.” he purred with a sultry voice, preparing to go in for a kiss right away. But he stopped short at the sight of Armin’s face as he looked up to meet his gaze.

Armin’s face was wet from the rain, but more so, the red eyes and puffy cheeks made it clear that he’d been crying, further confirmed by his pouty frown.

Such an image tugged at Eren’s heart and he wordlessly pulled him into a hug, reciprocated by Armin in full as he buried his face in his chest. Still without even hearing what was wrong, Eren then pulled away to suggest exactly what he knew Armin would need. “Blanket fort?”

“Mm.” the sniffling man nodded.

And Eren set to work right away…

Blanket forts were something fun the pair had indulged in for as long as they’d known each other. Though their bodies had aged, their hearts were still young, or at least Armin’s was, and thus blanket forts were an old habit between them that never died. Truthfully, Eren might’ve outgrown it or set it aside as he’d gotten older, but Armin Arlert was his lover, and no one appreciated Armin’s magical ability to renew a heart’s spirit with fun and free spirited activities more than Eren Yeager. And thus he never lost his own fondness for blanket forts either. It was only cozier now that they were older and bigger and filling up such a tiny warm space, and they were even more fun now that they were seasoned enough at the craft to add more embellishments to it, like Christmas lights, and a second “room”, and a back door to head to the restroom. They also had plenty of extra blankets, sheets, and pillows on hand for just such an occasion as this when an emergency blanket fort was required. While Armin showered and slipped into his most comfortable pajamas, Eren laid out the big futon, pillows, set up the couch cushions, hung the sheets, blankets, and soft lights, set up the laptop for their marathon, and put together their dinner trays to be eaten inside the fort. Armin soon walked out of the bathroom in soft, baggy lounging clothes, wiping his eyes.

“Hey…” Eren greeted in a soft voice. “Feeling any better now that you’re out of that wet work suit?”

Armin shook his head no.

“Ah… Well, hey, come here.” he continued, opening his arms as he walked towards him, though Armin ran to close the gap between them right away, hugging him just as tight as before. Eren’s hand rested on Armin’s head as he held him close, feeling a little dampness seep into his shirt since Armin was still a little weepy. “It’s okay… I’m here, and you’re here, everything’s okay. You wanna talk about it yet?” He felt Armin’s head shake no again. “That’s okay. All the ugliness is outside now, you’re home and safe with me.” he cooed, and kissed his head before pulling away to smile at him.

Armin wiped his eyes again to find that smile in clear view as he looked up at his tall sweetheart. And like Eren’s magic always did, it managed to make him smile a little again himself.

“Come on, let’s go eat this dinner before it gets cold.”

The pair sat inside the blanket fort, enjoying their dinner for 2 and Armin indeed couldn’t compliment Eren enough on his new recipe, and for adding the perfect amount of spice to suit him. But soon enough, after the curry started to warm him up again, Armin managed to get the topic of his bad day out of the way.

“I came in late and my boss yelled at me. And you know I can endure a lot, but today it just really cut me. He said he was sick of me wasting his time there with half assed work, knowing my priority wasn’t with the company. And I think the reason it hurt me this time was because… he’s right.” he sighed. “I don’t care about this company. I don’t care about the numbers, I don’t care about the profits, I don’t care about any of this endless boring work I have to do every day. I was late for no good reason too. I stopped to just stand outside and stare at the people going by. Smell the air, watch the dogs and the kids play. Watch the kind old people contrast with the mean ones. I saw a pretzel stand near by and decided to grab one before I went in, just to nibble on something throughout the day since I was already late and I’d have to work through lunch. And it just- really stung. He called me out and chewed me out. And I swallowed it, apologized, got straight to work and kept my head down for the rest of the day. I hate it there, Eren… I really do. It’s the polar opposite of how I wanted to spend my life. I wanted to see the world with you, I wanted to already be traveling with you, but we’re stuck here… And as I walked home, I just started crying. I didn’t even bother opening my umbrella ‘cause I just didn’t care anymore. I cried because my worst nightmare is starting to look like reality and I just have to face the facts: I may not get to travel with you at all any time soon… Maybe ever at this rate. All because I can’t just bring myself to fake it at work the way I should.”

“…Armi–”

“I was really worried about facing you tonight. I know you hate standing still and I know you hate when I lose my faith, but it just–”

“Armin.” Eren addressed him firmly but ever gently as he lovingly placed his hand over his.

Armin’s tears had begun to well up again, but Eren’s sweeping thumb brushed them away before they could begin to fall.

Eren continued with a soft smile. “First of all, you have every right to hate your job, cuz it sucks. I don’t blame you for taking it slow today, they’ve worked you hard ever since you got there, and they definitely don’t pay you enough to just dedicate your heart to it Monday through Friday for 8 hour days. I’m proud of you for rebelling a little. That took a lot of guts! That’s quite the opposite of standing still, don’t you think?”

Armin blushed… both with flattery and embarrassment for thinking so little of himself as usual. He never forgot to be thankful that he had Eren to pull him out of his inferiority complex at the end of days like these.

Eren went on. “And second of all, it won’t be forever. We will definitely travel. Soon in fact! Remember? After our Christmas bonuses added up, we’re already 3 quarters of the way there in our travel funds! And I know you’re a great writer, so that proto draft you sent the publishers in that city I can’t pronounce is sure to leave a good impression at the very least! You definitely won’t be doing this job forever. If it’s draining you that much though, I say either demand a raise or ask for less straining shifts since this current one is so hard on you. And if this basketball season turns out as good as the football season, I can definitely ask the school to give me another raise. Really, so long as you don’t mind living in this shitty place for just a little longer, we’ll be set quite soon. I believe in us. At the very least I believe in you, anyway.”

“…” Armin’s tears fell again, but this time over a smile instead of a frown.

“More curry?”

He nodded yes and smiled to himself in thought as he watched his husband leave to refill his tray and waited for him to come back, no longer worrying or caring about this awful day. Just beaming brightly with thoughts about Eren and how much he loved him as his heart fluttered in his chest as much as it always did, no matter how long they were together. And just counting the seconds before that handsome man of his would return to the blanket fort.

“Ta-daa!” Eren sang as the plushy fort curtain opened again, and placed a second helping of hot curry in front of Armin, whom ate it swiftly with a healthy smile and sparkling eyes. Eren smiled to himself, so happy to see Armin happy again and eating like a happy person.

The talk about work then quickly turned into a happy chat about Armin’s manga, and where he should take the story between the first and third quarter. Eren suggested a battle with the female character on the enemy’s side since not only was Armin good at writing for women, but also found good female characters to be quite well received since they’re such a frustratingly fresh concept in entertainment media. Armin concurred and thought excitedly about how to use her emotional depth to it’s fullest while Eren rattled on about wanting to see a cool fight scene with her against the protagonists. With no longer a trace of sadness in the air at all, Eren suggested it was time to eat dessert while they marathoned their anime. Now the air was filled with the pair exchanging theories about Goto’s mysterious girlfriend and at what point he really began to fall for Masayoshi, between Eren chuckling over and over again “Look, it’s us! Wow, this is just us! Masayoshi Kun is just like you!” to which Armin would always blush and reply, “Yep, that’s us! But I like you so much better than Goto San”, a compliment that made Eren quite proud. They’d poked the brownie bon bons into each other’s mouths until they’d eaten them all before they knew it, and decided to skip to the final arc to conclude the series before bed time. But after all that sugar and spice, they couldn’t be bothered to sleep any time soon.

Rather, they’d sparred in a small pillow fight before simply lying on their backs to chat endlessly about anything and everything while they mindlessly made shadow puppets on the blanket ceiling above them. Their affectionately interlocked hands rested between them, while Armin’s leg rested over Eren’s, with his foot and toes brushing up against his.

“So why does it smell different when it’s going to rain? That’s true, right? Not just a thing old people made up?” Eren asked, forming what he deemed a puppy shadow puppet above them.

“Haha, it’s true, and it’s because the plants release a certain smell before the rain falls, because of the low pressure in the air.”

“Wow, no kidding? Fuck.”

“Pretty cool right?” he chuckled.

“Sucks if you’re on the ocean then. Was there a way to tell for rain before barometers or whatever were invented if you were on the sea?”

“Ever hear the phrase "Red sky at night, sailor’s delight, red sky at morning, sailors take warning”?“ Armin inquired as he made his bunny shadow puppet kiss Eren’s puppy during a game of shadow tag.

"Ahhh, yeah! That’s really fucking cool! How’s that work?”

“It has to do with the moisture in the air and what the sun reflects.”

“No shit… That’s awesome.”

“Haha, I’m glad we can just fly over the ocean though, so getting caught in a storm at sea is no longer a required fear for the traveling man. I do wish we could take our trips by sea, though…” Armin lamented.

“I’m sorry, Aru… Someday when your manga takes off and we can work from anywhere in the world, we’ll travel by ship.”

“There’s a dream…” he sighed with a smile.

“Come on, now. It definitely won’t come true if you don’t believe in it. Isn’t that what you taught me?” Eren playfully bantered, turning his head to look at his husband.

Armin’s eyes met his and he smiled again. “I didn’t mean that I didn’t believe in it… I just… I want it so bad, Eren… I want that future with you so much it aches sometimes. Because we aren’t there right now.”

Eren retired his shadow puppet and brought that hand to Armin’s face to cup his cheek, pulling him in for a tender kiss. “Well, in the mean time, we’re here right now. And I don’t think that’s so bad, all things considered. I mean we’re trapped, and it sucks, but… You’re here with me. So I can make it work until that day finally comes when we’re free. How about you?”

Armin’s eyes shined like stars for this man who reminded him continuously to keep dreaming. He pulled Eren into his arms and helped himself to a long, indulgent kiss, followed by a few words with a big promise. “As long you’re with me, I can handle the wait.”

“Mmm… That’s my Armin…” Eren hummed, and pulled him in for yet another kiss… and another, and another, and another, each one deeper than the last, with his tongue tangling with Armin’s as much as his legs were tangling with his. As he slipped his thigh between Armin’s legs and found the warm, hard protrusion he was hoping to feel, he hummed that special hum of his into Armin’s lips before pulling away with a wet pop. “Mmmmmh… Good thing I stocked up on our "goodies” yesterday.“

Armin moaned a meaningless, yearning sound as he pulled Eren back to his lips, running his hands over his back and through his hair, and desperately pressing Eren into the pillows surrounding them, looking forward to leaving a special impression on this sacred blanket fort.

With the smell of sex and coconut oil in the air, the lights out, and only the gentle rain outside to serenade them, Armin lay quietly in Eren’s arms, almost lulling off to sleep as Eren’s gentle breathing moved him up and down… Eren combed his fingers through the strands of Armin’s hair habitually while his other hand rested on Armin’s back and indulged in the feeling of Armin’s own breathing. Rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall… As Eren finally closed his eyes, giving in to the warmth and safety of this fort, and feeling completely one with Armin under their soft blanket, he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the ocean. Dreaming of the waves moving up and down, rising and falling, with Armin in his arms, as it carried them across the world to their dreams…

"Eren…” he began, the only voice Eren could hear in this whole dream. “I love you.”

“I love you too…”

And nothing could take that dream away.

A/N:

Yes, Armin is writing Shingeki No Kyojin. This is a headcanon of mine that I’m sure you all know by now lmao. Yes, it lands a publisher and in a few years, they are happily traveling, and have a home base in Japan.

Eren playing housewife is so precious to me, sorry, I can’t help it… He is a coach for a big highschool somewhere in town, best he can do after his own sports related injuries rendering him a useless athlete (another old headcanon of mine that I’m sure you all know by now lmao).

#eremin #erearu #eren jaeger #armin arlert #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #im sorry megu this isnt as interesting as you deserve >.< i hope you enjoy parts of it tho!

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muggle-writes · 4 years

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10 Questions Tag Game

tagged by @julesruleswrites

before I answer your questions, may I just comment that “hissed” is totally valid for describing phrases without enough sibilants. It’s the cross between wanting to yell and trying to whisper where it comes out all breathy and forced. Absolutely a worthwhile descriptor, even for regular sentences, imo.

1. Who would you dedicate your wip to, if you ever wrote a book dedication for it? (Or if you’ve published, who have you dedicated things to before?)

Ooh. I’ve published fic, which doesn’t really get a dedication section, but I’d probably dedicate my book to whichever friends/partners/metamours were most helpful in the editing process, and the ones who let me inevitably ramble at them nonstop about the book while it was in progress.

2. What car does/would your OC drive? Can be as specific or vague as you want; I know Finley drives an old Civic, but who knows what the heck Logan drives.

boring answer, but Mason is 12 and shouldn’t be driving. In an emergency he might attempt to drive the vehicle of whichever adult he is spending time with, which at the moment would be an aging pickup truck. Better hope it’s automatic because he’s not going to figure out how to drive a manual transmission car without guidance, and especially not while panicking.

Erin is a Hogwarts student and also doesn’t exactly have access to cars. She’s happy to fly the school Cleansweep broom, but she isn’t all that enthusiastic about Quidditch or racing brooms, so she’ll take what’s available for transportation.

3. Do you prefer to do your writing in the morning, afternoon, evening, etc?

I do my best work between approximately 10:30 am and 3pm, but unfortunately I’m usually at work during that time, so evenings are a tolerable substitute. If I succeed at getting up on weekends and I’m not drowning in other commitments I’ll take that midday block for writing and that generally feels rewarding.

4. If your wip got a movie, what would that be like? Animated? Or nah?

animation is very underrated, and I wouldn’t mind an animation of anything I made, but given most of my actual WIPs are fanfiction, a true movie of them would likely match the original canon adaptation where relevant. Some animated, some live action.

5. What’s the most recent change you’ve made in your writing process/style?

Idk if this counts, but my resolution this year is to not let previous failures prevent me from following up on things I want to do. I haven’t actually pulled out Duolingo or my other language learning apps that I previously lost motivation for when I broke a streak, but this applies to my writing too. for example there’s a #jewishjanuary event that has daily prompts, and I’ve been letting myself write for whichever ones inspire me without getting stuck on “oh but I haven’t written for _____ yet.” In theory, hopefully, this will encourage me to write more consistently, at least this month, and if I’m really good about it, that habit will stick when I go back to my “usual” WIPs in the absence of daily prompts.

6. Please tell me about your most beloved side/minor character, even if they don’t have a name or have had a different name every time they appear.

Again, writing mainly fic complicates my answer to this question, but looking at what I’ve created recently, I really like my OC Erin Fawley (from my #jewishjanuary prompt fills, since in many of them, I’m depicting Hermione being unapologetically Jewish at Hogwarts and in the magical world in general) Erin is a Gryffindor prefect, in the same year as Percy Weasley. She’s also a half-blood, which she will claim proudly. Erin most often shows up early in the golden trio’s first year, before Hermione is friends with Harry and Ron, and not only checks on Hermione for being the outcast of her social group (there’s always one, usually for no good reason), but when she realizes they’re both Jewish, she helps Hermione feel a little more welcome by not having to fumble through rituals alone at boarding school. Erin is a good balance to Percy, because she has the mentors’ instinct of who needs her help, and in fact she occasionally lets her homework slide in order to help younger years with theirs or with other settling-in needs. Most teachers are understanding, and when she turns in her work on time, it averages EE grades. When she turns it in late, it could otherwise earn an A-EE but, depending on the teacher, gets marked down for lateness. Anyway, all of Gryffindor house besides Harry’s yearmates and the Weasleys and the Quidditch team are a blank slate and I enjoy slowly filling that in.

7. What scene are you most excited about writing right now?

When I get all the in-between written, I’m looking forward to, in my fic Eavesdropping, writing Kaito and Akako interacting, with him putting aside his mistrust in magic to ask for advice, and her being slightly less cryptic than usual, in sympathy.

Also, I’ve half-finished yesterday’s prompt fill for Sukkot (for #jewishjanuary) and I’m looking forward to finishing that, and showing the origin of Erin and Hermione’s friendship, and also depicting the struggle of making do when the people running your school have never heard of your traditions, let alone know what to provide. (etrog? You think they have an etrog in scotland? they probably substitute a lemon unless Erin got one in August and had a family member put a stasis spell on it and brought it with her. Willow branches are definitely from the whomping willow - Erin asked McGonagall, who asked Hagrid, who collected them)

8. What font do you like to write your wip in?

I don’t go out of my way to set a font, so I’ll tend to use whatever’s the default in whichever program I’m using at the time, but I have something of a preference for serif fonts.

9. What and when is your next self-imposed deadline? Ex: mine is to finish this draft by May. How’s progress on that?

I would like to finish my Sukkot prompt fill before the other High Holy Days prompts roll around in the #jewishjanuary list, since I didn’t succeed in writing it day-of. (I’ve been aiming for finishing each prompt day-of, but again, this year I’m not letting lack of progress towards daily goals prevent me from continuing. That’s my goal) I uh... didn’t make any progress on it today and I haven’t checked the prompt list to remember how long I have until I miss this deadline...

10. Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?

Hot chocolate! Sometimes tea if I’m in the right mood (or if it’s a good spiced chai from the Indian restaurant across the road from my office. I will never turn that chai down). But in general, I haven’t acquired a taste for coffee or alcohol or black tea (without enough milk and sugar) or anything else in the category of “vaguely bitter adult drinks”

My Questions and tags under the cut (also, feel free to answer and tag me back even if I didn’t tag you)

In your WIP, how many other people face equivalent struggles to the protagonist? How many others are on equivalent journeys that the audience may or may not hear about?

What is a worldbuilding detail you are proud of but that you haven’t been able to include in your WIP?

What is your method for coming up with names for OCs? How often do your characters’ names reflect the journey they will take?

Music, white noise, or silence while writing?

What’s your routine for writing (if you have one)? Which part of it is the hardest to stick to?

What is your OC’s biggest weakness? Do they realize it?

Do you hoard notebooks? When you write in them, do you prefer pen or pencil? (classic vs mechanical pencil? ball point vs fountain vs gel pen?) Or is everything just digital for you?

Tell me something good about an OC you dislike (or about an antagonist, if you love them all)

Which sense (touch, taste, smell, balance, ...) do you most like writing descriptions for? Are there any you leave out, intentionally or not? (I’ve sent out this question for STS before but it’s one of my favorites to ask)

What accomplishment are you proud of right now?

And my very short tag list (lmk if you’d like to be added to or removed from my general tag games list, or for any particular WIP or fandom) @writebusofdoom @bexminx participate if you’d like, and you have the time and energy to.

#tag games #10 questions tag #writeblr tag games

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woodworkingpastor · 6 years

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Reaffirm you love; 2 Corinthians 2:1-11

Call to Worship (Colossians 3:1-4, 12-15a)

We come seeking to do as Jesus taught us: to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength; and to love our neighbor as our self.

So if you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.

Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.

When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory.

As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience.

Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.

Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts.

A few weeks ago, Brethren from across the United States were privileged to hear Leonard Sweet preach at the closing worship service for Annual Conference. In his sermon—which was also viewed here at Oak Grove—Brother Sweet made the point that churches don’t need to spend time crafting a mission statement because we already have one given to us by Jesus. Our calling is nothing more nor less than to “make disciples.”

The word “disciple” might be one of those words that we use so often and so casually that we’ve forgotten the sharp significance of its meaning. A disciple is someone who learns from someone else more experienced.

Considering Leonard Sweet’s sermon reminded me of the way that theologian Dallas Willard used to talk about the ways churches might advertise their mission. He wondered what would happen if churches told people that they are a place that “taught people to do the things that Jesus said we should do”? People who are looking for a church home pass through here with some regularity, wondering “What does it mean to be a member at Oak Grove Church of the Brethren?” Imagine a conversation where someone says:

“I’d really like to learn how to pray.” Great! You could meet with this dear sister every week for a year and pray together.

“I really want to become more familiar with the Scripture.” Awesome! We have this deacon who loves to study Scripture with others. He’d be glad to meet with you each Thursday morning.

“I’m really concerned about the number of persons I see standing at intersections holding cardboard signs.” Fine. Maybe you want to join a group that ministers at the Rescue Mission regularly.

Disciples aren’t people who learn about various aspects of faith—they want to learn to actually do them. In an age where Google and YouTube have become a source of so much information, face-to-face discipleship is rather counter-cultural.

But in good Brethren fashion, we might want to “count the cost” before we go jumping on the bandwagon too quickly. Jesus consistently leads us places that others say we should not go. Forgiving those who have caused hurt is one of those places. It’s something that we tend to like in theory, but once we start talking about forgiveness in particular, we might be less excited about it.

What if we forgave just as Jesus forgave?

Broken relationships in Corinth

Paul’s relationship with the Christians in Corinth gives us an insight into what forgiveness can look like. It would be interesting to know exactly what happened in Corinth to so severely damage the deep and significant relationship Paul had with the church. We are simply not given enough information to make any firm conclusions over what had caused the division in the church.

What we do know is that the relationships among Christians within the church, as well as relationships between some of the church members and Paul had become badly damaged, and that one person was the cause of the difficulty. There were factions, angry words, painful conversations. In other words, people were behaving in that conflict in exactly the same ways that people act in conflicts in our day. There’s nothing new here. And if we’re surprised at all that these things happen, we really ought to give it some more thought. Walking into a church and wondering why people don’t always treat one another so well is a bit like walking into a hospital emergency room and wondering why the people there are sick or in pain. The issue is not the condition of the people who walk in, but the condition of the people who walk out. Our brokenness gets in the way of relationship. We say we want to lay down our lives and pick up a basin and towel and serve one another just like Jesus, but it can be difficult to move beyond our own self-interest to do that. Sometimes even the best of congregations experience difficult relationships.

But 2 Corinthians—a NT letter that we don’t read so much—shows us an example of doing the things that Jesus did. Whatever it was that caused the broken relationships in Corinth, there is one thing Paul won’t do—let it go. Even though dealing with problems like these generally makes things more complicated and less peaceful before things get better, Paul will deal with it for the spiritual benefit of the congregation.

Paul is a bridgebuilder. I looked at a lot of pictures of bridges this week. Bridges are the subject of some great photography, often because the places where bridges are needed are so beautiful in their own right. I finally settled on this picture because of the fog. It’s not totally clear where this bridge is headed. If there weren’t cars on the bridge moving in both directions, we might wonder if the bridge is complete—does it make it all the way to the other side, or will cars fall into this body of water.

Forgiveness is like that. It’s not always clear that we will be able to span the gap. But if we are going to make progress, the effort must be made.

That’s what Paul has been working on with this congregation. Making the effort to span the gap and reconnect people across the divide. We learn several things from the conflict in Corinth:

Paul named that something hurtful that happened. I am often amazed at how much power doing this can have. This year at National Youth Conference I once again taught a workshop on forgiveness. After an introduction where I set a few ground rules for the discussion as well as encouraged the youth to seek out a counselor or pastor if they’ve been really badly hurt, we spend a good amount of time talking about how important it is to name that we have been hurt, and then to find a way to determine just how big a deal this hurt really is. Not all hurts are the same, and they require different responses. Almost inevitably, I’ll catch someone’s facial reaction when I say this; they inadvertently betray that they really have been hurt by someone but they haven’t wanted to admit it. I always hope that the facial response that I catch is the first realization that healing is possible.

So many times we do the opposite. People have been hurt and they saying things like, “It’s really no big deal” or “I’m probably blowing this out of proportion.” But these statements are lies.

Paul doesn’t do this. He’s up front that something has happened and it has caused pain. There’s no sense in denying this; I suspect that in this particular case, everyone knew it anyway. Naming that something painful had happened is the first step in saying that this hurtful thing will no longer control us.

Paul is honest that the pain impacted the entire congregation. Now we’re starting to get serious with this illustration, because this case isn’t just a matter of two persons having a spat. There are other references in Paul’s letters to that kind of situation. Here in Corinth, the conflict became so large that in one way or another it impacted everyone. The entire congregation has a stake in reconciliation. What does it mean to be a church that teaches people to “do the things Jesus taught us” now? It’s one thing when we just want to learn how to pray more effectively. But when a wrong-doing becomes a full-blown congregational conflict? This is where the situation starts to become significant.

We are so wired to value both individual rights as well as our own privacy that it can be nearly impossible to hear that the entire congregation might have a stake in the matter. But Paul’s actions show us that there are circumstances where confrontation and forgiveness and repentance move from a private conversation with the pastor and/or the parties immediately involved and essentially becomes a topic for council meeting.

And to their credit, the Corinthians had done both of these things. They had confronted, and in some way punished, the person who had instigated the conflict. But remember what we said a moment ago about the church being like a hospital: the issue isn’t so much that sick people show up, the question is “do healed people walk out?” If the emergency room is nothing more than a pipeline to the funeral home, we might do well to stay away. In the church, we deal with brokenness so that we might experience healing and reconciliation.

Our bridge has some context to it. Reaffirm your love. The painful reality of dealing with conflict moves into love. Paul is concerned that the punishment shown toward this man might be too much, and so he urges the congregation to reaffirm your love. Eugene Peterson puts these verses this way in The Message:

What the majority of you agreed to as punishment is punishment enough. Now is the time to forgive this man and help him back on his feet. If all you do is pour on the guilt, you could very well drown him in it. My counsel now is to pour on the love.

Why? Because we live our lives in the presence of Christ. It’s really come full circle. Our mission is to learn to actually do the things that Jesus teaches. We don’t seek revenge. We don’t shut people out. When there is brokenness and pain within our relationships we move in toward the center seeking to be like Jesus in the middle of the conflict so that we might taste the joy of forgiveness that is possible.

Is it possible? It can be. Johann Christoph Blumhardt was pastor of a congregation in Germany, where he often lamented the spiritual apathy that surrounded his parish like a layer of fog.

But on New Year’s Eve of 1843 things began to change. A young man known for his wild carousing and violent temper came to the rectory entrance. After pleading to see the pastor the man was let in. He told Blumhardt that he hadn’t slept for a whole week and feared he would die if he couldn’t unburden his conscience. Blumhardt writes:

I had not expected this man to come to me, therefore I remained somewhat reserved and cautious and told him straight out that I did not trust him, nor would I trust him until I had heard him confess at least some of his sins to show his sincerity. But I could not let this strangely distraught man go without praying with him.

Thus began an awakening that surpassed Blumhardt’s greatest expectations. By January 27, 1844, sixteen people had come to the rectory to unburden their hearts. Three days later, the confessors numbered thirty-five; ten days later, there were more than one hundred fifty. Men and women from all the surrounding villages poured into this town to confess their sins.

Most significant, this movement of hearts moved beyond words and emotions and bore concrete fruits of repentance. Stolen goods were returned, and enemies were reconciled; infidelities and crimes were confessed, and broken marriages restored. Even town drunks stayed away from the taverns. And the revival wasn’t limited to adults: rebellious adolescents submitted to their parents, and previously unruly children joined in the singing at school (Arnold, Seventy Times Seven, 140-142).

The question for all of us really comes down to, “Do we want to be like Jesus?”

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icatpines · 7 years

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Minho stirred the curry he was cooking with a smile, declaring it finished just in time for Newt to get home from work any minute now. Friday was his favorite day of the week. He had the day off to stay home, rest up, clean around the apartment, get a nice dinner together, and prepare for his night with Newt. Friday usually meant marathoning a show or movie series, playing games, sharing a hot bath, or having shameless, passionate sex, whatever they could enjoy doing together at home for a night. Tonight, they planned on watching Samurai Flamenco yet again, Newt's favorite anime and one even Minho was starting to quote in Japanese for how often they'd seen it together. And such an occasion called for curry, using an Indian recipe that Minho finally had the chance to try out. "Hope he likes it... Hmm... Better add a little more pepper just in case..." he thought to himself, never really sure when a dish was spicy enough to suit Newt's zest for it.

Suddenly, the sound of a key turning the lock on the door hit the air and Minho grinned to himself for his beloved's return. He quickly removed his apron and rushed to meet him at the door before it even opened, but within a second, the dripping wet blond man came in, shaking his umbrella a little before placing it in the stand.

"There he is! Ah, I guess the storm caught you, huh? Anyway, welcome home." he purred with a sultry voice, preparing to go in for a kiss right away. But he stopped short at the sight of Newt's face as he looked up to meet his gaze.

Newt's face was wet from the rain, but more so, the red eyes and puffy cheeks made it clear that he'd been crying, further confirmed by his pouty frown.

Such an image tugged at Minho's heart and he wordlessly pulled him into a hug, reciprocated by Newt in full as he buried his face in his chest. Still without even hearing what was wrong, Minho then pulled away to suggest exactly what he knew Newt would need. "Blanket fort?"

"Mm." the sniffling man nodded.

And Minho set to work right away...

Blanket forts were something fun the pair had indulged in for as long as they'd known each other. Though their bodies had aged, their hearts were still young, or at least Newt's was, and thus blanket forts were an old habit between them that never died. Truthfully, Minho might've outgrown it or set it aside as he'd gotten older, but Newt was his lover, and no one appreciated Newt's magical ability to renew a heart's spirit with fun and free spirited activities more than Minho. And thus he never lost his own fondness for blanket forts either. It was only cozier now that they were older and bigger and filling up such a tiny warm space, and they were even more fun now that they were seasoned enough at the craft to add more embellishments to it, like Christmas lights, and a second "room", and a back door to head to the restroom. They also had plenty of extra blankets, sheets, and pillows on hand for just such an occasion as this when an emergency blanket fort was required. While Newt showered and slipped into his most comfortable pajamas, Minho laid out the big futon, pillows, set up the couch cushions, hung the sheets, blankets, and soft lights, set up the laptop for their marathon, and put together their dinner trays to be eaten inside the fort. Newt soon walked out of the bathroom in soft, baggy lounging clothes, wiping his eyes.

"Hey..." Minho greeted in a soft voice. "Feeling any better now that you're out of that wet work suit?"

Newt shook his head no.

"Ah... Well, hey, come here." he continued, opening his arms as he walked towards him, though Newt ran to close the gap between them right away, hugging him just as tight as before. Minho's hand rested on Newt's head as he held him close, feeling a little dampness seep into his shirt since Newt was still a little weepy. "It's okay... I'm here, and you're here, everything's okay. You wanna talk about it yet?" He felt Newt's head shake no again. "That's okay. All the ugliness is outside now, you're home and safe with me." he cooed, and kissed his head before pulling away to smile at him.

Newt wiped his eyes again to find that smile in clear view as he looked up at his tall sweetheart. And like Minho's magic always did, it managed to make him smile a little again himself.

"Come on, let's go eat this dinner before it gets cold."

The pair sat inside the blanket fort, enjoying their dinner for 2 and Newt indeed couldn't compliment Minho enough on his new recipe, and for adding the perfect amount of spice to suit him. But soon enough, after the curry started to warm him up again, Newt managed to get the topic of his bad day out of the way.

"I came in late and my boss yelled at me. And you know I can endure a lot, but today it just really cut me. He said he was sick of me wasting his time there with half assed work, knowing my priority wasn't with the company. And I think the reason it hurt me this time was because... he's right." he sighed. "I don't care about this company. I don't care about the numbers, I don't care about the profits, I don't care about any of this endless boring work I have to do every day. I was late for no good reason too. I stopped to just stand outside and stare at the people going by. Smell the air, watch the dogs and the kids play. Watch the kind old people contrast with the mean ones. I saw a pretzel stand near by and decided to grab one before I went in, just to nibble on something throughout the day since I was already late and I'd have to work through lunch. And it just- really stung. He called me out and chewed me out. And I swallowed it, apologized, got straight to work and kept my head down for the rest of the day. I hate it there, Minho... I really do. It's the polar opposite of how I wanted to spend my life. I wanted to see the world with you, I wanted to already be traveling with you, but we're stuck here... And as I walked home, I just started crying. I didn't even bother opening my umbrella 'cause I just didn't care anymore. I cried because my worst nightmare is starting to look like reality and I just have to face the facts: I may not get to travel with you at all any time soon... Maybe ever at this rate. All because I can't just bring myself to fake it at work the way I should."

"...New--"

"I was really worried about facing you tonight. I know you hate standing still and I know you hate when I lose my faith, but it just--"

"Newt." Minho addressed him firmly but ever gently as he lovingly placed his hand over his.

Newt's tears had begun to well up again, but Minho's sweeping thumb brushed them away before they could begin to fall.

Minho continued with a soft smile. "First of all, you have every right to hate your job, cuz it sucks. I don't blame you for taking it slow today, they've worked you hard ever since you got there, and they definitely don't pay you enough to just dedicate your heart to it Monday through Friday for 8 hour days. I'm proud of you for rebelling a little. That took a lot of guts! That's quite the opposite of standing still, don't you think?"

Newt blushed... both with flattery and embarrassment for thinking so little of himself as usual. He never forgot to be thankful that he had Minho to pull him out of his inferiority complex at the end of days like these.

Minho went on. "And second of all, it won't be forever. We will definitely travel. Soon in fact! Remember? After our Christmas bonuses added up, we're already 3 quarters of the way there in our travel funds! And I know you're a great writer, so that proto draft you sent the publishers in that city I can't pronounce is sure to leave a good impression at the very least! You definitely won't be doing this job forever. If it's draining you that much though, I say either demand a raise or ask for less straining shifts since this current one is so hard on you. And if this basketball season turns out as good as the football season, I can definitely ask the school to give me another raise. Really, so long as you don't mind living in this shitty place for just a little longer, we'll be set quite soon. I believe in us. At the very least I believe in you, anyway."

"..." Newt's tears fell again, but this time over a smile instead of a frown.

"More curry?"

He nodded yes and smiled to himself in thought as he watched his husband leave to refill his tray and waited for him to come back, no longer worrying or caring about this awful day. Just beaming brightly with thoughts about Minho and how much he loved him as his heart fluttered in his chest as much as it always did, no matter how long they were together. And just counting the seconds before that handsome man of his would return to the blanket fort.

"Ta-daa!" Minho sang as the plushy fort curtain opened again, and placed a second helping of hot curry in front of Newt, whom ate it swiftly with a healthy smile and sparkling eyes. Minho smiled to himself, so happy to see Newt happy again and eating like a happy person.

The talk about work then quickly turned into a happy chat about Newt's manga, and where he should take the story between the first and third quarter. Minho suggested a battle with the female character on the enemy's side since not only was Newt good at writing for women, but also found good female characters to be quite well received since they're such a frustratingly fresh concept in entertainment media. Newt concurred and thought excitedly about how to use her emotional depth to it's fullest while Minho rattled on about wanting to see a cool fight scene with her against the protagonists. With no longer a trace of sadness in the air at all, Minho suggested it was time to eat dessert while they marathoned their anime. Now the air was filled with the pair exchanging theories about Goto's mysterious girlfriend and at what point he really began to fall for Masayoshi, between Minho chuckling over and over again "Look, it's us! Wow, this is just us! Masayoshi Kun is just like you!" to which Newt would always blush and reply, "Yep, that's us! But I like you so much better than Goto San", a compliment that made Minho quite proud. They'd poked the brownie bon bons into each other's mouths until they'd eaten them all before they knew it, and decided to skip to the final arc to conclude the series before bed time. But after all that sugar and spice, they couldn't be bothered to sleep any time soon.

Rather, they'd sparred in a small pillow fight before simply lying on their backs to chat endlessly about anything and everything while they mindlessly made shadow puppets on the blanket ceiling above them. Their affectionately interlocked hands rested between them, while Newt's leg rested over Minho's, with his foot and toes brushing up against his.

"So why does it smell different when it's going to rain? That's true, right? Not just a thing old people made up?" Minho asked, forming what he deemed a puppy shadow puppet above them.

"Haha, it's true, and it's because the plants release a certain smell before the rain falls, because of the low pressure in the air."

"Wow, no kidding? Fuck."

"Pretty cool right?" he chuckled.

"Sucks if you're on the ocean then. Was there a way to tell for rain before barometers or whatever were invented if you were on the sea?"

"Ever hear the phrase "Red sky at night, sailor's delight, red sky at morning, sailors take warning"?" Newt inquired as he made his bunny shadow puppet kiss Minho's puppy during a game of shadow tag.

"Ahhh, yeah! That's really fucking cool! How's that work?"

"It has to do with the moisture in the air and what the sun reflects."

"No shit... That's awesome."

"Haha, I'm glad we can just fly over the ocean though, so getting caught in a storm at sea is no longer a required fear for the traveling man. I do wish we could take our trips by sea, though..." Newt lamented.

"I'm sorry, New... Someday when your manga takes off and we can work from anywhere in the world, we'll travel by ship."

"There's a dream..." he sighed with a smile.

"Come on, now. It definitely won't come true if you don't believe in it. Isn't that what you taught me?" Minho playfully bantered, turning his head to look at his husband.

Newt's eyes met his and he smiled again. "I didn't mean that I didn't believe in it... I just... I want it so bad, Minho... I want that future with you so much it aches sometimes. Because we aren't there right now."

Minho retired his shadow puppet and brought that hand to Newt's face to cup his cheek, pulling him in for a tender kiss. "Well, in the mean time, we're here right now. And I don't think that's so bad, all things considered. I mean we're trapped, and it sucks, but... You're here with me. So I can make it work until that day finally comes when we're free. How about you?"

Newt's eyes shined like stars for this man who reminded him continuously to keep dreaming. He pulled Minho into his arms and helped himself to a long, indulgent kiss, followed by a few words with a big promise. "As long you're with me, I can handle the wait."

"Mmm... That's my Newt..." Minho hummed, and pulled him in for yet another kiss... and another, and another, and another, each one deeper than the last, with his tongue tangling with Newt's as much as his legs were tangling with his. As he slipped his thigh between Newt's legs and found the warm, hard protrusion he was hoping to feel, he hummed that special hum of his into Newt's lips before pulling away with a wet pop. "Mmmmmh... Good thing I stocked up on our "goodies" yesterday."

Newt moaned a meaningless, yearning sound as he pulled Minho back to his lips, running his hands over his back and through his hair, and desperately pressing Minho into the pillows surrounding them, looking forward to leaving a special impression on this sacred blanket fort.

With the smell of sex and coconut oil in the air, the lights out, and only the gentle rain outside to serenade them, Newt lay quietly in Minho's arms, almost lulling off to sleep as Minho's gentle breathing moved him up and down... Minho combed his fingers through the strands of Newt's hair habitually while his other hand rested on Newt's back and indulged in the feeling of Newt's own breathing. Rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall... As Minho finally closed his eyes, giving in to the warmth and safety of this fort, and feeling completely one with Newt under their soft blanket, he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the ocean. Dreaming of the waves moving up and down, rising and falling, with Newt in his arms, as it carried them across the world to their dreams...

"Minho..." he began, the only voice Minho could hear in this whole dream. "I love you."

"I love you too..."

And nothing could take that dream away.

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