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#familiarity
pratchettquotes · 10 days
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Nothing's louder than the end of a song that's always been there.
Terry Pratchett, The Wee Free Men
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cottagecore-world · 14 days
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Liminalcore: a newfound aesthetic
Here's a basic introduction to the world of liminalcore. Imo, limimlcore rpresents places that are places of transmission- basically between to places. Like a hotel or a gas station, where the journey itself is not as important as the destination. However, currently, any empty place with dim lights and an early 2000s setting picture can be considered a part of the world of liminalcore. It's generally the odd familiarity, and the unwelcome feeling that sets liminalcore aside from other aesthetics. Liminalcore also encompasses weirdcore and dreamcore. It's generally featured in an urban setting. Some places that are generally not liminal can honestly become a liminal space at night when no one's around. It's the lack of people and the unwelcome air that gives liminalcore its look. However, liminalcore does not necessarily have to be unwelcoming. Some pictures can honestly make you feel welcome and give you childhood nostalgia. Here's a few pictures that I found on Pinterest and one that I clicked on my own.
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theonlypterydactyl · 10 months
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Catra, the realistic abused child
Shadow Weaver gives Catra her view of the world and Catra becomes an outlet for her shame and self-hate. Love is weakness and weakness isn't allowed. Love is finite.
When Adora leaves Catra's sense of safety is shattered. Adora was the person who protected her and gave her value. If Adora is gone what value does Catra have? So, Catra has to prove herself. If she never needed Adora her betrayal can't hurt.
Catra's story is about protecting the little girl who didn't know the cruelness of the world, who was innocent. She does everything to protect her, even if that means pushing everyone away. So, she's cold and cruel to Scorpio who wants to give her the closeness she needs. But, Catra is a walking paradox, she craves connection, but closeness is a precursor to pain.
Adora is begging her to come with her, and Catra doesn't. It would've saved a lot of time and pain, but going with Adora means that she would have to accept the word of two complete strangers. Adora chose the two strangers over her. When Catra sees that She-Ra is Adora this proves to her how meaningless Catra is and how great Adora is.
To Catra familiarity and power mean safety. If she's at the top no one can hurt her. So, she takes on Shadow Weaver's role to feel safe. But, it stops working. She is tortured by Horak and sent to the Crimson Waste to die.
In the Crimson Waste Catra changes. Just a short amount of time away from the place where she's been abused and traumatized she's nicer towards Scorpia and more playful. When she captures Adora and finds out that Shadow Weaver went to Brightmoon, to Adora. Adora is greater than Catra even if she defected. She's still the golden child.
She has tunnel vision. There is only one thing that will match the amount of pain that she is feeling. She pulls the lever, knowing full well that everything will change.
Everything is how is should be. Adora is Force Captain and Catra isn't in charge. Shadow Weaver is kind. But, no matter how much Catra tried to make her stay, Adora was bound to leave anyway. With nothing left to lose she lets herself and the world burn.
Catra comes back to her addictive patterns full force. It's easier to hide from the pain that to confront it. Her treatment of Scorpia is reflected in if love comes to easily it isn't worth something.
In Corridors we see Catra and Adora as children. Adora is friends with Lonnie. Catra thinks that Adora is going to leave her and be with Lonnie all the time, because to her love is finite. Catra loses value to Adora because there is this other person she has to compete with and Catra isn’t deserving of love. She goes and talks with Glimmer and they start talking about Adora. Catra realizes that maybe Adora didn’t leave for power and glory, maybe she loves Glimmer, and maybe, just maybe, she loved Catra as well. Maybe it’s too late, but Catra gains this new clarity and wants to do one good thing in her life. She saves Glimmer and expects to die at the hands of Horde Prime and she’s okay with it. There is nothing left for her. The only person who cared about her was Adora and she left for bigger and better things and better connections.
Adora comes back for her. Catra has two options, accept Adora’s forgiveness or be dumped on a planet and die. But, her forgiveness is what cuts through. Adora is the only person who has seen both her pain and the person beneath it, so if Adora can forgive her maybe Catra is forgivable?
The addictive cycles are far from broken. She’s actively trying to be a better person. But, she falls back on old patterns when she is scared. It is easier to accept hate than it is to accept love that can be taken away. To Catra love is finite.
But, she stands up to Shadow Weaver for her and Adora. But, Adora is manipulated by Shadow Weaver takes the Failsafe and sacrifices herself. Catra is trying to protect Adora from her own self destructive behaviors, but it doesn’t work. Adora still is determined to sacrifice herself for the sake of Etheria.
She's scared and and runs away. She can't watch Adora sacrifice herself. Catra asks Adora what she wants, maybe just maybe she wants her, but that would be too far fetched, right?
At the Heart of Etheria, Catra goes back for Adora. She stays by her side as she is willing to give up her life for everyone on Etheria. Without expecting any reciprocation, Catra tells Adora that she is loved.
Catra’s story is realistic childhood abuse and trauma. It isn’t romanticized with these vulnerable, meek victims. Her story is messy and violent and ugly, as it should be. But, the solution is just as simple as it sounds. Change. Trauma brain relies on patterns and predictability. In Corridors, Catra is looking down two hallways. A light one and a dark one. The light could be symbolized by Horde Prime’s “light”. He enlightens these worlds and makes them better. This “light” is what strips them of their identity. The light is what strips Catra of her identity. The dark corridor could represent the choice of the unknown, the change that the unknown will bring, or the dark where Catra would hide in order to get away from everything, the dark where Adora willingly sat with her. This change is what led her to breaking the cycle of a trauma mindset and allowed her to accept Adora’s forgiveness. Catra’s character arc isn’t one of linear growth, it rises and it falls because she’s human. Unlearning the familiar cycles is hard and you’re going to fall back on them because familiarity is safety, but acknowledging and pushing past those lows is what leads towards a better tomorrow.
(my own interpretations backed up five by five takes)
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philosophybits · 8 months
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The aspects of things that are most important for us are hidden because of their simplicity and familiarity... And this means: we fail to be struck by what, once seen, is most striking and most powerful.
Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations
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blainesebastian · 2 years
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familiarity
words: 3,585 ship: austin butler x reader  summary: (request) readers friends are obsessed with austin and reader meets austin out and about. austin is intrigued by the reader's lack of interest and is determined to get to know you notes: first request, really excited. thank you! if you do not see your request posted, I promise it’s coming. My writing takes time and I appreciate the patience xo  warning: none  tag list: if you’d like to be added to any of my requested austin x reader fics, please let me know :) 
Tipping your head back towards the sky, you take a deep breath into your lungs as you exit the theater with your two best friends. Seeing Elvis for the third time is beginning to grate on your nerves—don’t get it wrong, the movie is incredible. The acting, the costumes, the music, all of it, ten out of ten, you just don’t need to see a film more than twice in theaters. Your friends are giggling like schoolgirls over the lead, Austin, and well—right, he’s definitely pretty but you don’t understand the hype. You don’t think you’ve really seen him in much before this.
“You two are beginning to sound borderline stalker-ish.” You tease over your shoulder, Marie reaching for your arm and forcing you to walk with them.
“I don’t want to hear it; you’ve watched tons of things over again for your favorite actor. What about Charlie Hunnam?”
You let out a soft breath that flutters your hair, “We don’t talk about Charlie.”
Paige grins, putting a hand through her strawberry-blonde strands, “Well that’s fine because we want to talk about Austin. Can you imagine the physical endurance he had to have to pull off all those movements? Performances?”
Marie grins, “Oh so we’re talking about his stamina?”
You roll your eyes even though you’re smiling as you head back to the car with them. It’s not that you don’t think Austin Butler isn’t attractive, he is, and obviously very gifted and talented. And maybe it goes beyond him being your type or not—sometimes it’s just hard to think about things other than what you’ve been going through recently. That’s what heading to the movies was supposed to be for, an escape, your best friends dragging you out of your apartment despite the fact that you’ve seen this film already.
But they know you need the extra support and you love them for that.
Your past breakup has been rough, moreso than you ever imagined it was capable of being. Just…the person you thought you’d been in love with for seven years turned out to be a completely different man. He was a cheater, a liar, and abusive—not necessarily physically, but definitely emotionally.
You’re working on building a better space for yourself, but it hasn’t been easy. You suppose anything worth it rarely is, but sometimes it’s hard to think about anything else. Shaking those thoughts loose, you get into your car as Marie and Paige continue to talk about their favorite scenes from the movie—describing them in detail as if they’re not going to visit the theater for a fourth time.
You smile a little as you start the engine, pulling out of the parking spot—you guess there’s really nothing better than an escape, especially when it involves a very handsome actor named Austin.
--
It’s a beautiful Fall day, the kind of season that feels like it might be snuggle worthy even in the sunlight. Crisp, crunching leaves, the end of summer passing along it’s final rays of heat. This is your favorite type of weather, right before it gets too cold. You can wear jeans, booties and a t-shirt with a jacket and have zero concerns. Not to mention it’s ideal to sit outside with a cup of coffee…which is your reward for getting grocery shopping done today. You push the cart around the aisles of Whole Foods, crinkling your nose at the selection they’ve got for most items because…it seems a little bare in some spots. Definitely in that time slot of restocking shelves.
No matter, you’ll make do with what you get and then come back another day this week to grab anything you might be missing. Surveying your cart, you’re pretty much done except for your favorite cereal, so you turn the cart in that direction and pause amongst the boxes.
Maple Clusters—literally one of your favorite things. Add a little extra cinnamon and honey? Ugh, with a cup of coffee it’s damn near perfect. And that’s something you never like to say often—that something is perfect, because you’ve learned the hard way that nothing ever is.
You let out a slow breath, moving down the aisle and spotting the box you need on the top shelf. Abandoning your cart, you walk to grab it, arm raised—
And someone else snatches it right before you can. You blink, looking over at the taller guy who has your Maple Clusters in his clutches. He seems to sense you standing there, because he turns slightly and blinks, looking down at the box.
“Sorry, were you goin’ for this?”
For some reason he looks wickedly familiar, like you’ve seen him in this store before or…maybe just around. New York is one of those places where you can run into the same ten people out and about over the course of a month—which sounds like it makes zero sense until you live here.
You hesitate for a moment, taking him in, tall, boyish charm with blue eyes that are only brightened by the curls of his dirty blonde hair and the jean jacket sherpa he’s wearing. Attractive? Yes. Annoying? Also yes.
“I was,” You lick your lips, “It’s the best cereal they have.”
There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he turns to face you, still holding onto the box between his hands. “I know,” There’s a sort of drawl to his tone, a deeper octave that maybe you weren’t expecting. It almost seems like it doesn’t quite go with his face, body, something learned. “That’s why I grabbed it.”
You narrow your eyes, attempting to grab anything else that you might be able to barter with. “Okay—there are plenty of decent second options here. Strawberry Oats, got little yogurt pieces in there,” The guy’s face takes on this amused twist, watching as you try to argue which cereal he should buy instead so you can have the one in his hands.
You notice he’s wearing rings on his slender fingers too which is…definitely not a negative, but not the point, either.
“Here and this one? Chocolate.” You wave the box for emphasis, “Who doesn’t love chocolate?”
“I dunno, do you? Seems like if you’re gonna argue for these cereals, you should just go head and buy ‘em.”
Heat kisses your cheeks and splotches down your neck, “No—I’m saying you should get one of them and surrender the Maple box.”
“I was here first.”
“Your arms are longer.”
A soft laugh rumbles out of his chest, a crinkle to the corners of his eyes. Now not only is he amused but there’s something else there, lingering in the blue of his irises. One of his hands runs through his hair before slipping along his jaw, like he’s in thought over this cereal. You are almost petty enough to grab the box and run, but you’ve got a whole cart to check out with and don’t want to end up running into him again.
Part of you knows that this is not worth it, arguing about cereal with a stranger (yet an attractive one) in the middle of Whole Foods. But…the Maple Clusters are definitely just a staple to healthy routines you’re building for yourself and you don’t want to wait later in the week to see if it’s restocked.
“What about a trade?”
You blink—wasn’t that exactly what you were saying? You slowly reach out to grab the Strawberry Oats box to hand off to him and he shakes his head,
“Nah—I meant; I’ll give you the cereal if I can get your name.”
What? Your brain kinda restarts a moment and all those serial killer documentaries and podcasts begin replaying in your head. Why does this dude want to know your name? Then you take in his stature, the way he’s angling his body towards you, head tipped down just slightly as you talk, eyes warm, smile tugging the corners of his mouth.
He’s flirting with you.
“My name? My name for a box of cereal.” You state, like you don’t quite believe it.
“I mean, unless you want to take home Strawberry Oats, I dunno.”
You pause for a few moments, trying to get your bearings. You don’t usually do this, talk to random men in the middle of Whole Foods over cereal. Not to mention being with your ex for those seven years has kinda made you incredibly cautious and aware of conversations you have, always a little unsure, still working on putting yourself out there again and taking chances. Not just with guys but with anything.
But it’s just a name right? And you really want this cereal.
“Fine,” You straighten your shoulders, “It’s Y/N.”
And the transaction is simple, he passes over the cereal, “Y/N,” Definitely doesn’t sound terrible coming from his mouth…clearly this whole interaction has sent you through the ringer. “I’m Austin. Is this a usual thing for you to passionately argue for cereal in Whole Foods or am I just lucky?”
A laugh slips out of your lips and you turn to deposit the box in your cart before the name he’s said finally registers in your brain. You turn to look at him, eyes fluttering over his face and form as he examines the box of Strawberry Oats and—that’s why he looks so familiar. You have seen him before, in Elvis, you just hadn’t put the pieces together because his hair isn’t jet-black anymore. You assume this is his regular style, still coifed in soft curls, but completely different than you’ve seen. In the back of your mind there are some thoughts swirling about how he looks so much more attractive this way, his blue eyes a softer tone than how sharp they were in the film.
Your mouth sort of open and closes like a goldfish, unsure of what to say for a moment, “I just take my cereal very seriously.”
Your friends are going to lose their minds—not that they’d even believe you if you told them. Then again, maybe this is a very detailed dream and you’re gonna wake up on your couch and realize you still need to go grocery shopping.
When Austin glances at you again, there’s this look that passes over his face, an understanding between you both that gaps have been filled in, there’s no air of mystery anymore. He doesn’t look disappointed but still a bit intrigued, putting the Strawberry Oats back to pick up some sort of peanut-butter chocolate combination.
“You didn’t know who I was before.” It’s not said in a way that’s…offended or expectant, but rather there’s something there that’s a bit softer. Like he enjoyed not being recognized. Paige and Marie talk about Austin often, they’ve shared a lot of tidbits and interviews and things like that without you asking.
But it seems like Austin, while made for the spotlight, is a bit shy in it. There’s a balance to him where he’s wading through celebrity life and fits in perfectly, but also flounders sometimes because he’s humble, genuine, sweet. Least that’s what your friends tell you. Though, with this one interaction, might be on brand. With the movie doing as well as it is, it’s flinging Austin and his career more into the public eye; he might not have many interactions like this anymore. Where there’s a blanket of anonymity.
“Well,” You clear your throat, “If it makes you feel any better—I’m still referring to you as ‘guy who likes to steal the last cereal’ in my head.”
That seems to catch him off guard because he laughs, tucking the cereal box underneath his arm. “I was just thinkin’ ‘girl who argues about cereal’ was such a better identifier for you too.”
You grin, your cheeks kissing pink before you shake your head. “That’s my full name, actually.”
Austin laughs and the sound is light and attractive and you feel like your head might start spinning because…this can’t be your life right now. You lick your lips, taking a step back from him and motioning to your cart,
“I gotta get going.” And there’s definitely…some disappointment? there, or maybe it’s just a trick of the artificial lights. Either way, he hesitates, watching you walk back to your cart and begin pushing it past him, “Enjoy that cereal.”
“Can I get your number?” He asks, mostly to your back because you’re almost out of the aisle.
Your heart ricochets right up into your throat and you turn to look at him, confusion pinching between your eyebrows because seriously? This guy wants your number? It’s floundering because, well for starters, a celebrity seemingly wants to get to know you. From running into you in the middle of Whole Foods and arguing about cereal. Secondly, there’s this knee-jerk reaction placed deep inside of you from your ex to keep yourself safe. To not get hurt again or put yourself out there.
It's a simple number exchange today but it never ends up like that.
“No,” You clear your throat, “I’m sorry. But uh—New York is one of those serendipitous places, maybe I’ll run into you again.”
Austin raises his eyebrows, definitely not the reply he was expecting but he respects it, nodding as he offers a small wave before you dip around the corner to the next aisle.
--
You think that’s an interaction that’ll just pass you by, it’ll fade into some part of your consciousness that you’ll maybe remember if it’s randomly recalled to memory. Marie and Paige talk about their latest obsession a lot so, you expect it’s something that’ll pop up, you might mention it in jest to see what their reactions are, but then it’ll disappear—hidden by more important things to think about.
Except it doesn’t.
Austin is on your mind a lot ever since you met him and it’s one of those things where it feels like he’s unavoidable. Shows on Netflix that he’s been in are suddenly available and advertised, you see billboards and subway signs of him in Elvis marketing the film, his interviews are suggested watches on YouTube and your Instagram explore page has fan posts and photoshoots alike.
This whole thing isn’t going to just disappear into the background and you realize you actually want to talk about it with someone, even though the moment has passed and it doesn’t really matter anyways. There are some feelings swirling through your chest that you’re beginning to recognize as regret, even though you don’t want to call it that by name.
Would it have really hurt to give your number to him?
Regardless that it doesn’t change anything, you invite Paige over for coffee. Maybe just venting it out will help you purge it from lingering on your mind. Besides, no offense to Marie, she’s a bit more level-headed when it comes to both of your best friends.
You divulge what happened at Whole Foods and she kinda just laughs a moment before she sees your face, “Wait—are you fucking serious?” You open your mouth to say something put Paige reaches over and gently smacks your arm,
“Hey!”
“I cannot believe you kept this from us,” She laughs, “Also incredibly ironic that you get to run into him when you’re not even a fan.”
Crinkling your nose, you reply, “I didn’t say I wasn’t a fan, I just…didn’t want to see the movie for a fourth time in a row,” You roll your eyes but there’s a soft smile tugging the corners of your mouth, “Definitely didn’t say he wasn’t hot either, he is.”
Paige squeals out a series of laughs as she grabs your arm and honestly that makes you chuckle more than the situation at hand. Leaning back against your kitchen counter, you take a long sip of coffee,
“Anyways,” A soft sigh, “None of this really matters. I fucked up by not giving him my number.”
“I can’t believe he even asked,” She shakes her head, snickering at your expression. “No, I mean—you’re beautiful and clearly got great taste in cereal, I just…it’s hard to wrap my head around.”
“You’re telling me,” You reply, your lips lingering along the rim of your mug before you take another sip.
“Why didn’t you give it to him?” Paige asks, pouring more coffee for herself.
You chew on the inside of your cheek for a few moments—you figured that’d be rather obvious. Paige watches you, pushing her hair over her shoulder. She reaches out and playfully tugs on the lapel of the jean jacket you’re wearing to draw your attention back to this conversation. She knows you though, knows what you’re thinking about.
“Not every guy you meet is going to be like Jason.”
And that…it kind of makes you bristle even though you know she’s right. It’s just such a sensitive topic, an exposed nerve, hurts to think about. “I know.”
Paige hums a little, “It’s also okay if you’re not used to that concept yet, that you’re distant? Cautious?”
You swallow, appreciating someone validating your feelings even though that’s a bit of a struggle too. You don’t like feeling like you’re the center of attention, or like…there’s something wrong with you.
“But for future reference? Definitely doesn’t hurt to give a cute guy your number,” Paige throws her arm around your shoulders, making you smirk, “Especially when that cute guy turns out to be Austin Butler.”
You sigh a bit dramatically but nod—lesson learned, at least.
“Noted.” Smiling, you bump your hip into hers and pour another cup of coffee.
--
Another week passes and you’re back in Whole Foods, not a full grocery run but just grabbing some essentials. Milk, cheese, fruit…definitely some snacks that are not needed but wanted, and of course, cereal. You hold your basket along your arm, pausing at a few spots and putting stuff in before moving to the next aisle. You can already tell upon entering the cereal aisle that things are a bit bare, the shelves looking a little emptier than usual.
Maybe you need to find a new location or change the day of the week you shop, because you pause in front of where you usually find your Maple Clusters and…completely empty. Not even a box left.
Sighing, you set your basket down to begin to browse other selections.
“Don’t you hate it when that happens?” A familiar voice speaks behind you. You turn slowly, your stomach flip flopping as your eyes land on Austin who’s walking into the aisle with his own basket, “Someone grabbin’ the last box of cereal?”
You smile a little, can’t help it, gaze taking him in completely. He’s wearing black jeans today, black cowboy lookin’ ankle booties, a simple white tee and a leather jacket. It somehow makes his features stand out even more than the last time you saw him and you’re definitely taken by how easily handsome he is.
It’s annoying to say the very least.
“Might have to change the Whole Foods I shop at; this cereal outage is just unacceptable.” Smirking a bit, you curl your hair around your ear. You can’t help but feel a bit relieved that you’re seeing him, that you managed to run into him again. Almost like a do-over, in a sense, pushing your wants and desires over insecurities and worries.
It’s not going to hurt to toe the line, to dip your foot back into the pool, to put yourself out there.
He takes a step towards you, pulling the Maple Clusters in question out of his basket, “I don’t actually need this—just wasn’t sure how else to get your attention.”
Chewing on your lower lip, you smile a little, blush working along the back of your neck. “What you just…showed up every day on the off chance I might be here, harboring cereal?”
Austin laughs a little, “No, God—I was gettin’ my own stuff. I just happened to see you turn into the aisle, made a beeline for the cereal.”
And that’s…you have to admit kinda unexpectedly cute. You’re feeling slightly flustered, a fluttery sensation directly under your ribcage, but instead of running away, you lean into it.
“So let me guess—you want a fair trade for that?” You motion to the Maple Clusters.
Austin seems to hesitate just a little, maybe not wanting to walk over a boundary line that you created the last time you ran into one another. You like that about him instantly and decide to open the door a bit more for him to walk through,
“Like maybe…getting coffee?” You offer, “In exchange?”
His eyebrows lift, pleasantly surprised, “Right now?”
“Right now,” You smile, “After we check-out.”
He hands over the cereal box, your fingers brushing as you take it. There’s an electric current just from the touch alone, slipping right up your arm and coiling like a snake in your belly, heated, heartrate doubling.
“Definitely wouldn’t say no to coffee.”
Smiling, you put the cereal box in your basket before picking it up off the floor. There’s an openness to Austin as you wander around Whole Foods, filling up the rest of your lists before making your way out to find a coffee shop. He looks at you with the intention to listen and admittedly you forgot what that feels like. To be heard, to be comfortable in sharing.
And you realize how good it feels to be willing to take chances.
--
thank you for reading! :) 
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thepersonalquotes · 1 year
Quote
To become a complete philosopher, you need to familiarize yourself with all the difficult questions.
Mwanandeke Kindembo
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elegantzombielite · 6 months
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"We love those who know the worst of us and don’t turn their faces away."
Walker Percy, author (28th May 1916-1990)
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drabbles-of-writing · 11 months
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Pretending Not to See Your Ghost
AO3
Chapters: 1, 2
Summary: Darius has begun to notice a  few...𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 between Hunter and his old mentor. From  appearance, to speech, to the smallest of characteristics, he always  swears he'll blink, and his mentor will be standing right where Hunter  once was, as though nothing had ever changed.
But he's sure it's only a coincidence.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Penstagram, unfortunately, had become more of an eyesore than it used to be.
The Emperor clearly had no understanding of technology, and it became evident to many Coven members that places like Penstagram were practically free-range to do pretty much whatever they wanted. Of course, plenty still used it to find the locations of wild witches, but for quick communications or revealing faces, barely anyone batted an eye. There would be no punishments for it.
Darius tried to use Penstagram for normal things. Occasional pictures, deleting DMs he very much did not want to see, passively aggressively shit-talking his coworkers, and shooting a few quick, non-incriminating messages between himself, Eberwolf, and Raine when needed be.
And then there was Hunter’s account.
He’d only followed it to keep an eye on him. He knew the intricacies of what was and wasn’t allowed on Penstagram, but Hunter might not have. He found it ludicrous to suggest the kid would blurt Coven secrets on his account, but he was still paranoid. The boy thought sunlight was optional on functional growth, he didn’t know what else he’d assumed about life.
Much to his increasing migraine, most of Hunter’s posts were about Flapjack. His profile picture was of his own face, covering only one of his scars, in his Golden Guard attire.
Darius had nearly gotten a heart attack before he saw just how many people assumed Hunter was a fake account. Or some otherwise young child dressing up to pretend as the Golden Guard. He suspected the fact that most of Hunter’s posts were blurry disasters (that, to his credit, did exclude anything else that could be directly linked back to him or the Coven) did quite a bit to aid in this doubt.
No one would find his account on accident, it was far too obscure, and never tagged properly. Darius still monitored it, of course, but he was a little more at ease, figuring they were all in the clear. Even if he wanted to take the boy by the shoulders and plead him to be at least semi-functional with technology.
Then, as though Hunter had sensed Darius staring in dismay at his most recent failure of a post, the boy himself poked his head in through his office door.
“Uh, Darius?” Hunter asked, unsure, and Darius jerked his head up. 
He tried not to feel that old ping of nervousness when Hunter was slipping off his mask before he was fully in the office. Everyone knew Hunter’s face in the Coven, this was a normal, good thing. This was not something he had to be wary about others seeing.
“Don’t you have work to be doing?” Darius raised a brow, though he did set his scroll down. 
“Uh, well, y-yes, I was just doing that!” Hunter said quickly, and when Darius glanced down, he saw him holding his scroll up to his chest, walking over to his desk. “But then I started getting some messages, and I just wanted to…I wanted to see if these would be of interest?”
Darius, brow still raised, held out his hand. Hunter willingly handed it over without a second thought, Titan below this kid really needed to learn how to be a teenager, and Darius took a look at whatever he was talking about.
It was a DM, with what looked like a conversation between two hex-bots. Darius raised a brow, scrolling up—nope, that was Hunter’s texting. Good grief, it was atrocious.
The other one was a bot, at least. A very obvious one, in fact.
LIke.fabriCS? to muhc woRk ? CLICK HERE!
Hunter seemed to have been trying to respond to the bot, interrogating it about details. To which it fell apart into incoherent, insane texts.
“Hunter, this is a scam.” He deadpanned, though he supposed he could only be so exasperated. The kid had no phone, of course he didn’t know about people trying to hex scrolls.
“Gus said that, too.” Hunter frowned, ears pressing back. “He told me not to click a link?” He added, frowning, face scrunched up. 
“The underlined words. Of which he is correct.” Darius said, deciding not to ask who that was as he handed the phone back. “You’d get hexed.”
“Are you sure?” Hunter sounded truly disappointed, looking down at his scroll screen. “I thought more fabrics would be nice, ‘cause you have your own…”
“I have money to get more, just borrow mine.” Darius sighed, pressing his fingers to his forehead. He tried not to feel too twisted up when Hunter looked at him with pure shock. “In the future, just don’t talk to any messages you get that aren’t from your friends.”
“But how could I get hexed through some…underlined words?” Hunter squinted at his scroll, holding his phone up to his face.
“It’s a link, Hunter.”
“Like a chain?”
“Titan’s sake,” Darius groaned, dropping his face into his hand, “it’s like teaching an old man.”
“I’m not old!”
(“You’re such an old man.” Darius snickered, looking from the crystal ball to the face smooshed up against it.
“Hey!” Jasper barked, finally tearing away from it to send a pouting glare, of which Darius could only barely restrain a laugh. “I’m not old! I’m practically your age!”
“Oh, so now you’re my age?” Darius scoffed, rolling his eyes and leaning back, smug. “Is that why you hate being called ‘sir?’”
“I’m as spry as a fox-spitter, I’ll have you know.” Jasper huffed, placing a proud hand to his chest. “These crystal thingies are just needlessly complicated.”
“It’s only kind-of new tech.”
“It’s confusing, is what it is. I’m convinced you’re just messing with me.”)
“Figure of speech,” Darius waved it off, sure his mouth was pulling at an uncomfortable angle, “just be more careful in the future. Titan’s sake, you don’t need to fret about getting your own things.” He rolled his eyes. “I have more than enough to share. I already gave you a scroll.”
“Well…yeah.” Hunter hunched his shoulders a tad, looking from his scroll to Darius. “I-I just…you already got me the scroll, so…you’ve gotten me enough.”
“I’ll say when I’ve gotten you enough. This is not even close to the limit.” Darius said, firmly, if only because it made him feel…odd. This didn’t sound the least bit like a spoiled brat. “Now, scurry back to that important work you were having with your friends on Penstagram.”
“Acquaintances.” Hunter reminded, more of a grumble, than anything, neatly tucking his scroll underneath his cloak and into a pocket.
“No, they’re not. Run along.” Darius waved his hand, going back to pretending he was working on his own papers. “I’m sure teenagers like you have much to talk about.”
“I’m…working on that.” Hunter hummed, frowned so thoughtfully like he was solving some secret that it had Darius snorting, watching him turn away and pull his mask back down again.
Hunter’s fingers lingered, he noticed, over the nose. The tips scraping down slightly, pausing as though thinking something over. It was so painfully familiar he half expected to see a tangle of uncombed, wild hair when Hunter turned back to him.
But it was only his normal, somewhat-combed hair. Of course it was.
“Um, thank you.” Hunter mumbled, nodding jerkily. “For-for the assistance.”
“Happy to help.” Darius said, and if anyone said he sounded softer, they were a liar. “You can continue checking-in sometime in the future.”
It sort of slipped out. Not that he didn’t mean it, but he hadn’t really thought about saying it. The words were simply out there before he could think much. Though, he couldn’t really find himself regretting it when Hunter perked up, just the tiniest bit more interested.
Perhaps that should’ve been harder to tell, with his movements so subtle and face covered. But Darius liked to think himself an expert in such mannerisms.
“Thank you.” Hunter repeated, sounding suspiciously genuine, bringing his hood up. His small strand of hair still hung free, uncovered as he pulled open Darius’s door.
It looked a lot like Jasper’s, he noticed. There was always that one strand of hair poking free, refusing to obey the chaos of the rest of his mane. Hanging right in front of his face, bothering him to hell and back.
Then, Hunter was out the door, and Darius was alone in his office.
He shook off the weight on his chest, though it lingered like fog, and reshuffled his papers.
Perhaps he should do some real work.
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random-xpressions · 3 months
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Why love feels so familiar? The explanation is very simple. This is the second time you're meeting, earlier being the soul encounter in the world before, you were so well acquainted there that the meeting on earth would feel like a recollection of those forgotten memories, a story being rewritten in a different timeline, that's all...
Random Xpressions
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beljar · 2 years
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Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar..
William Faulkner, from The Sound and the Fury, 1929
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fieriframes · 7 months
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Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
[AND WE'RE GONNA GO FOR THAT BISTRO BEEF TENDER. THAT'S AN INTERESTING CUT. A RUSH OF PANIC COMFORTED HIM WITH ITS FAMILIARITY A COUPLE YEARS AGO. IT'S A REALLY NICE CUT OF MEAT. CUT 'EM INTO 1-OUNCE PORTIONS. POUND 'EM BY HAND.]
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punksarahreese · 9 months
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Anything about Familiarity you want to share would be awesome!
“Kids,” Cornelius dropped a suitcase at the feet of the closest housekeeper without a glance in her direction, “My Fiancée Maria, and your new sister.”
The girl in the doorway looked no older than Claire, sun-kissed from her blonde hair to her fingertips as she looked at them both with hesitation. She looked up at her mother for reassurance before finally speaking, turning to her new family.
“I’m Ava. I know we’re ‘pposed to be family now, but I hope we can be friends…”
“You talk funny,” the teen boy who had been leaning against the staircase scoffed, “Dad, what is this?”
“Says the American domkop,” Ava didn’t hesitate to snap back, “You’re Connor then. Your dad was right ‘bout you.”
“What-!”
“Are you Claire?” Ava’s attention left him, much to his annoyance, as their parents left to speak to the movers who had arrived before them. Connor was left watching the two girls with disdain, glaring as this intruder spoke to his sister with her weird slang and funny voice.
The youngest nodded, eyes wide and full of tears. Ava was quick to grab her new sister’s hand, “Don’t cry, it’s okay! D’you wanna show me my new room?”
The two disappeared before the adults returned, making Connor realize just how alone he was in the giant house now.
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glorbs-dominion · 2 months
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Strangely Familiar
Here ya go, boss. Found this in the depts o' yer memories.
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betweentimeand42 · 9 months
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"Familiarity" by Punch Brothers, live from the 50th Annual Telluride Bluegrass Festival, 6/18/23. Gabe Witcher's second-to-last performance with the band.
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blainesebastian · 2 years
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familiarity (pt2)
words: 4,478 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (heavily requested for a part 2) a continuation of: readers friends are obsessed with austin and reader meets austin out and about. austin is intrigued by the reader’s lack of interest and is determined to get to know you notes: part one is here!  warnings: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @foreverdolly, @inkpot-winters
Something you can honestly say you never thought would happen in your life is standing in your kitchen as Austin Butler sifts through your coffee cup collection.
“There’s no reason to have this many.”
You smile a little, moving to lean against the island counter, watching him as you pour more cereal into the bowl in front of you. Maple Clusters, of course, an extra sprinkle of cinnamon and some honey. You spoon some into your mouth before the clusters can get soggy.
“There are plenty of reasons.” You reply, mouth slightly full, which makes Austin look over his shoulder at you in amusement. Swallowing, you then stick your tongue out at him.
He laughs lightly, “That’s cute—thanks.”
You’ve been hanging out on and off for the betterment of two weeks, nothing too serious, mostly lunch and breakfast dates, coffee, walking around various parks in New York. The season is turning a bit cooler, chilly, your favorite time to break out the jeans and sweaters. Pulling the sleeves down of the sweater you’re wearing over your hands, your eyes take in the black jeans and navy sweater that Austin’s got on—it definitely brings out the brightness in his eyes, highlights the blonde in his soft curls.
Definitely nice to look at.
You finish your cereal and put the bowl in the sink, joining him at the counter. “I mean, c’mon, I gotta have mugs to match my moods.” You pull out a giant red crab shaped mug that unironically reads have a crabby day or just a simple white mug with red letters that says not today, satan.
Austin is skeptical to say the least, picking up a dinosaur one that changes colors when you pour hot liquid into it. You smile, shaking your head before pulling two random ones from the cabinet to fill up with coffee. Austin can’t stay long, apparently he’s got an interview to go get ready for, and you can assume from the ones you’ve watched on YouTube, he’s not about to wear what he has on.
Shame really.
You’re kinda just…taking this thing day by day with him, unsure if you want to make promises or projections about what might come next. You really like hanging out with him and the chemistry fizzles between you like bacon in a hot skillet but…you’re also trying to be a realist as much as you can. You know exactly what it feels like to put so much effort and trust into someone only for them to break it. Hurt you.
You can’t go through that again.
You shake off the thoughts lingering in your mind, watching as Austin grabs cream and sugar and adds it to his coffee. And to his amusement the mug starts changing color, from a green dinosaur paradise to a red, comet filled sky.
“That’s slightly depressing.”
“Them’s the brakes.” You coin, picking up your mug to take a sip.
He hasn’t met your friends yet which you think is probably for the best, for now. They’re a little…much. In the best way, of course, but you also selfishly want to keep Austin to yourself. Besides, he enjoyed the fact that you didn’t automatically know who he was when you first met, mise well take advantage of the small bubble you two have created around yourselves.
“Oh, I tried that Blueberry cereal you were talkin’ about,” Austin licks his lips, “I see what you’re sayin’—gets soggy way too fast.”
“Right?” You laugh lightly, running a hand through your hair. Who knew running into Austin at Whole Foods would create this…domesticity about cereal, but it’s almost like a comfort topic, easy to come back to, easy to find common ground.
It might seem silly or stupid but you need conversations like that, especially since you’re unsure where this whole thing is going with him, where you want it to go. You keep second-guessing yourself that you even know what you’re doing or how to feel—Jason’s done a number on you in ways you don’t expect sometimes.
Austin glances down at his phone when it buzzes, swiping away a message before he slides it into his back pocket. You know he has to get going soon but he lingers, taking another sip of coffee,
“I was thinkin’ since we’re cutting this short, maybe tonight we could do somethin’. I could pick you up for dinner?”
You set your mug down and your entire body tries to tell you to say yes, why not, sounds great. And yet nothing comes out, you clamp up instantly, almost ready to swallow your own tongue. Austin watches you for a moment, his eyebrows drawing together slightly,
“Or not—breakfast is totally fine by me,” He smiles, “If that’s your thing.”
“No, I mean—yes, it’s,” You let out a long breath you hadn’t realized you were keeping in your lungs. You reach over and gently settle your palm along his wrist, using it to ground yourself in what you’re about to say,
“I’m sorry, I uh—” The words get trapped underneath your tongue and you feel a little helpless in settling them loose. Austin is patient, covering your hand with his, running his thumb along your knuckles.
He shakes his head, “You don’t have to explain.”
“I want to,” Because you do. The last thing you want is for Austin to think you’re not interested…which feels so ironic because a month or so ago your friends were attempting to convince you to see the Elvis movie once, let alone two or three times.
So much can change in such a small amount of time.
“I was with my ex, Jason, for seven years,” Your eyes travel over his face as he listens and it dawns on you that you’ve never really shared this with anyone else other than family, your best friends. You feel like that vulnerability might rip you in two but Austin’s eyes are calm, comforting in a way that maybe you should have expected.
“It was really good for a long time but…he just wasn’t who I thought he was.”
Austin frowns a little, standing up straight from leaning against the counter. “He hurt you?”
You nod—there’s no reason to give light to details, to unbury those where you’ve put tombstones. Austin, you’re sure, can use his imagination. Regardless, he gets the point. His face twists in soft empathy, gently reaching out with his other hand to play with a wave of hair near your cheek, tucking it behind your ear.
“M’sorry,” And so many people say that but there’s a wild difference in Austin’s tone—there’s no pity, he doesn’t feel sorry for you, but empathizes. He feels hurt because that’s how you feel.
You clear your throat, shaking your head, your chin dipping down as his fingers brush along your jawline, “It’s not your fault.” While acknowledgement is good, you also know it’s best not to dwell. You’ve been working on that, how best to move forward.
“But uh—I’d like to go out tonight, on a date with you.” You smile a little, “Dinner.”
He raises his eyebrows, hand falling from your chin, “You sure?”
Humming, you reach into the cabinet full of mugs to pull out a very specific one. It’s black and has little Magic 8 balls printed on it with the common phrase ‘ask again later’. And then you show him what it says on the inside, on the bottom, a blue triangle that says ‘signs point to yes’.
Austin smiles, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your cheek, “It’s a date.” Your stomach flutters instantly at the soft touch, skin flushing with blush.
“A date.” You confirm with a confident nod, putting the mug back into the cabinet.
--
“Girl, it’s a date not a root canal.”
You groan lightly as you sift through the clothes hanging up in your closet, attempting to find an outfit to wear tonight. Paige is right, this should be something that’s enjoyable for you—going out with Austin tonight on an official date, and yet you can’t remove this cinderblock of dread from sitting on your chest. You have to stop overthinking this, you’ve been out and in with Austin plenty of times, the only difference now is the hour of the day and dinner.
You can totally handle this…as long as you find something to wear.
You pull out a black dress and show it to your best friend who crinkles her nose, “What are you going to a funeral?”
Scowling, you put the dress back before looking through some other options, the hangers screeching against the pole they’re on as you move the metal back and forth. Paige gets up from her spot on the bed, peeking past you to try and help. She tugs out a few things that are casual but still highlight long lines of your body, your curves—Paige has always been good at this.
“We can do your makeup too—I’m thinkin’ red lipstick. Oh! Maroon.” She grins, moving to look at your vanity near the bed.
Running a hand over your forehead, you pick up the denim dress that Paige has pulled out and slip it on. It sits right above your knees, has short sleeves, buttons and a belt that clinches at your small waist. Looking down at yourself, you smooth your hands over the fabric and open the closet door a bit further to see what it looks like in the full-length mirror.
You think you were expecting some sort of transformation but…it’s just you, you in a nice dress. You smile a little, tugging out white booties to put on with it, Paige turning to look at you with a grin.
“God, he doesn’t stand a chance.”
“Stop,” You laugh softly, allowing her to sit you down and give you some light makeup details, everything is pretty natural except the lip color, maroon. Definitely doesn’t look bad.
“Your one goal is to have fun tonight, okay?”
You roll your eyes playfully but you are smiling, “Yes, mom.”
“I mean it,” She grins, putting the makeup brushes away, “Austin’s a good guy and you deserve that, don’t forget it.”
And okay, that might take a little more work than you think. You’re so used to getting the short end of the stick, to constantly question people’s motives, feelings, dissect their words to make sure they actually mean what they say. It’s daunting and exhausting…but you do get a good feeling from Austin, he’s shown you who he is, you just have to trust that.
You stand from the bed, running a hand through your hair, “I’m working on it,” You promise, “Thanks for your help.”
Paige lingers for a few moments before disappearing to the kitchen…and coming back with shot glasses and a bottle of tequila. You laugh harshly, shaking your head,
“What are you doing?”
“Liquid courage,” She grins, putting the glasses on your nightstand and filling them up. “C’mon, I’m hoping to get you slightly tipsy so you’ll forget I’m here and let me talk to him.”
“No,” You shake your head, amused, “Not yet—let me get this date under my belt, okay?”
Paige huffs dramatically but you know she understands. You got a lot on your mind. She hands you your shot glass and you both playfully clink them together, “To Austin Butler’s fine ass.”
You laugh, covering your mouth with your hand as your cheeks kiss bright red. You definitely can’t turn down that kind of toast and raise your glass, throwing the liquid back.
--
The tequila is such a bad idea and you could really kick Paige in the ass for even bringing it into your bedroom. The first shot burns the back of your throat and you’re contemplating why people even do these things anyways because they’re fucking terrible. And then when your best friend leaves and you’re stuck with nothing but your worry and your thoughts as you wait for Austin to knock on your door…
One shot turns into three, which turns into taking sips directly out of the bottle.
It’s a slow process to quiet nerves but you don’t realize how strong it hits you until you’re wandering over to answer the door when there’s knocking. Glancing through the peep hole, you sway back on your heels to unlock the deadbolt, pulling it open to see Austin. He looks good because of course he does—a light pair of jeans with one hole in the knee, those same booties he loves to sport and a black sweater. You can see a silver chain on around his neck, underneath the fabric, paired with a selection of rings on his fingers (ugh). His hair is perfectly coifed in big dirty blonde curls and there has to be some sort of law he’s breaking with looking as good as he does.
It's hard not to think about, even when he speaks to you. Then you realize he’s asking you something and you blink.
“What?”
A soft sound of amusement, “I said, ‘hey, you ready to go?’ but I think the better question now would be, ‘are you checkin’ me out?’”
You scoff because isn’t everyone? And then you realize your filter is gone because you’ve said that out loud, a bloom of warmth kissing Austin’s cheeks. You raise your eyebrows, covering your face quickly with your hand, oh no.
“I mean—” You shake your head, “I dunno what you really expect when you walk around like that, with that face and whatnot.”
Austin’s eyebrows are drawn together, his mouth slightly open as he gently reaches for your wrist while you ramble, pulling your hand away from your face,
“And like—your hair does this whole wispy thing and do you even realize what you’re capable of when you’re wearin’ jewelry? It’s not fair.” Your voice definitely has a whining quality to it and Austin laughs a little,
“Hey,” He interrupts, “Are you—are you drunk?”
You stare at him for a long moment, biting the inside of your cheek. You slowly shake your head even though it feels beyond obvious that you are and…you can see him glance past you into your apartment where the half-empty bottle of tequila sits on your coffee table.
“Maybe…just a little.” You offer quietly. Fuck, fuck—you hope he’s not upset or disappointed and…there’s probably a way you can sober up real quick and still salvage the night, go to dinner like you’d planned. God, did you mess everything up? “I didn’t…it wasn’t on purpose.”
Austin shakes his head, carefully backing you up into your apartment and letting the door close behind him, “It’s okay,” And his voice is so soft, so understanding, that instantly your eyes pinprick with tears and a lump appears in your throat.
There are two versions of you when you drink: either you’re a snuggler or a crier, there’s really no in-between. You have a very bad feeling you’re adopting the latter right now.
“We don’t have to go out tonight,” His voice is very soothing, like he can tell you’re teetering on the edge right now. His palms rest on your shoulders, dragging his touch down your arms, “We can stay in—order food, s’really not a big deal.”
“But you wanted to go out,” You sniffle, hating how choked your voice sounds. Oh my god, this is seriously so embarrassing. You could kill Paige for bringing that tequila bottle into your bedroom in the first place—even though you know it’s your fault for overdoing it.
“I don’t need to go out,” He chuckles warmly, cupping your cheek.
His thumb brushes away a tear that falls, “I put lipstick on and everything.”
Austin hums, “And it looks beautiful.”
You swallow thickly, letting those words sit in your chest for a few moments. In your hazy state, you try and sift through his language, trying to figure out if he really means what he says or he’s just trying to placate you because you’re drunk and crying in the middle of your apartment. But…the longer you look into his blue eyes, the more stable you feel yourself becoming. Austin is grounding, he’s two feet firmly planted on the ground, he’s safe.
And you believe him.
You nod softly and close your eyes a moment, trying to stop the room from spinning. You feel him shift forward, pressing a long kiss to your hairline before he’s helping you to the couch to sit down. Kneeling in front of you, he unzips your booties, taking them off and setting them to the side.
“Really important question—breakfast or burgers?”
You blink, eyebrows drawing together in confusion until you remember he mentioned ordering food. Oh. “French toast and French fries.”
Austin smiles, nodding his head as he squeezes your knee and stands from the floor. “Course, why didn’t I think of that?”
As you lean back against the cushions of the couch, he wanders over to the kitchen to grab glasses of water. Bringing them back over, he sets them down on the coffee table before typing into his phone, most likely an Uber Eats order. You lean against the arm of the couch where a bunch of pillows are and wish more than anything you weren’t wearing this denim dress because it suddenly feels too tight.
“Your sweater is nice,” You comment after a moment, running a hand through your hair. “You could be dating a model or somethin’ you know, and you’re here with me.”
He blinks with the whiplash of conversation jumping, finishing up the order placement on his phone before setting it aside on the coffee table. Austin picks up the water to hand you, your fingers brushing as you take the glass from him and have a few large gulps.
“Why date a model when I could be with someone who has thirty unnecessary mugs in her kitchen cabinet?”
You smile suddenly, laughing, which makes the corners of his mouth pull up. “I have forty-five, and they’re all necessary.”
“Well even better.”
“You can make cinnamon rolls in mugs you know, like in the microwave? Like little mini-cakes,” You tell him matter-of-factly, “Clearly you have not considered this in bashing my collection.”
Austin shakes his head, taking a sip from his own water glass, “I obviously got a few things to learn.”
You hum, “I’ll show you tomorrow when my kitchen isn’t bein’ so rude and spinning like that.” Running a hand through your hair, you take another long sip of water, “Will you be here tomorrow?” You swallow, half expecting him to disappear at any moment. You also understand, even through the daze of tequila, that he’s a busy man with his own schedule. Just because you’re…like this does not mean he’ll be available tomorrow.
“I’ll be here,” He promises, “Got nothin’ to do tomorrow.”
That answer is really satisfying and you’re not sure whether you say that outloud or not, but Austin is smiling as he brushes your hair over your shoulder, standing to go towards the apartment door with his phone. The food he ordered must be here and damn that was fast.
The night moves on slowly or maybe not, it’s hard to tell. All you know is that one moment you’re shoving food in your face and miraculously not getting syrup or ketchup on your denim dress and then making your way to your bathroom to change your clothes and wipe your makeup off.
“No peaking.” You point at Austin but don’t even bother to close the door when you take your dress down.
Austin quickly turns away, a soft laugh leaving his throat, “Wouldn’t dream of it—lemme know if you need help though, alright?” And that…comment is totally acceptable because at one point you have to grab the corner of the sink so you don’t end up on the floor.
It takes you a moment to realize, when you walk out of the bathroom, that Austin just has a white t-shirt on now and you look down at what you’ve pulled on and that’s right. He’s given you that black, waffle-knit sweater he was wearing, to pull over your head. The sleeves are too long and it smells so much like him, cologne mixed with something distinctly Austin.
You hope he realizes he may never get this thing back.
There’s this moment as he pulls the sheets down on your bed that you know you want to kiss him, like—just plant one right on his lips, especially with how nice he’s been tonight. You think about it, you play it out in your head what you’d say or what it’d be like to just go for it. But you already know the type of man Austin is, and he’s not going to roll with it while you’re intoxicated…but you kinda like him all the more for that.
Instead, when he helps you between the sheets, you gently tug on his wrist before he leaves. “I really like that you wear sweaters and take cereal very seriously,” You plant a kiss on his cheekbone, letting the touch linger for a moment before pulling back, “Even though you talk shit on my mug collection.”
Austin laughs, the sound warm and it fills up your chest in the very best way. He pulls the blankets over your shoulder, saying something in response but you’re already asleep the minute your head hits the pillow.
--
Morning seems to come far too soon, sunlight sneaking in through the windows and blinds of your bedroom and smacking you directly in the face. You groan lightly, pressing your face into your pillow and attempting to make yourself smaller. The headache you’ve got pulsing in your temples somehow stretches outward and pulls at the muscles in your neck. Fuck, you’re going to die. This is terrible.
Bringing up a hand to rub at your eyes, you catch the scent of the sleeve and—sandalwood. You practically give yourself whiplash pulling your arm away, blinking at the sweater in question and oh my god, last night actually happened. And you don’t have the luxury of forgetting it, either, your drunken moments are usually imprinted on your memory in detail. While it wasn’t completely terrible, always can be worse, your very embarrassed at Austin arriving at your place for a date and there you are, drunk, a mess. Shaking your head, you squeeze your eyes shut.
At least he’s probably gone home by now and you can avoid him for however long it takes to reset your dignity.
Except—
Except the smell of coffee suddenly assaults your senses and your bedroom door cracks open…and Austin is there, with two cups of coffee, looking utterly adorable and slept on. He must have stayed over on the couch, hair a bit mussed but still attractive, cheeks warm with the imprint of pillows on one of them. You shake your head a little—this can not be happening.
He smiles a little when he sees you’re awake, moving to sit down on the bed near your hip. He places one of the cups of coffee on the nightstand and holds the other between his hands,
“Glad to see you’re alive.” He teases and you groan lightly in response, pinching the bridge of your nose because you’re not so sure. “You got a headache?”
You nod, no words forming on your tongue, but you feel the bed shift and Austin must get up to draw the blinds a bit tighter to prevent the light from spilling in. It helps a little when you fix your gaze on him again.
“It’s not fair that you look like that when you wake up,” Your voice is slightly strained, signs of sleep still imprinted on it.
He smirks moving to brush your hair out of your face, his fingers slipping along your jawline, “Drink the coffee, you’ll feel better.”
“Doubtful.” You mumble but do as you’re told, leaning against the headboard and taking the coffee cup into your hands to take a sip.
Honestly, you know you will start to feel better after the second cup of coffee and maybe a light breakfast. You’re not that hungover, but it’s moreso you feel ashamed about your behavior last night and you can’t believe this man not only stuck around but made coffee for you the next day. You swallow, looking down into the cup, not even sure what to say.
“I’m sorry—” You blurt out, looking up at him. Austin’s eyebrows draw together in light confusion, waiting for you to explain, “About last night, I did want to go out with you.”
He shakes his head, “Y/N,” A soft smile on his lips, “You really don’t have to apologize, there are plenty of other nights we can go out.”
Your forehead crinkles lightly as you move to set aside the coffee on the nightstand, stomach bubbling in butterflied nerves as you attempt to find the right words to explain. Even though you know Austin doesn’t need to hear it, you feel like the honesty is important,
“I just got caught up, I haven’t been on a date since…”
Austin fills in the blank, “Your ex.”
And God, you hate to have to bring him up again, to give his past actions so much power but…if you can’t be honest with yourself, you don’t think you’ll be able to move forward with anybody. You crinkle your nose, a soft frustrated noise that almost sounds like a laugh,
“I just panicked; I just so wanted our first date to be…perfect.” And you should know better than to use that word because nothing ever is. Not only that, you feel like you only made last night worse instead of what it could have been.
Austin reaches out to touch your hand, making sure you’re looking up at him when he says, “But it was, I was with you.”
Maybe that line would sound cheesy coming from anyone else, but there’s a genuine warmth that comes from Austin when he says it, so much so that it reaches inside your chest and squeezes. And suddenly you can’t stop yourself from leaning forward and kissing him, albeit quickly, to the corner of his mouth.
Austin doesn’t backdown from that, using the opportune moment to continue the kiss, cupping your cheek to give you a proper one. His lips move against yours slowly, patiently, drinking one another in. It’s one of the most addictive things you’ve ever felt. Your heartrate is in your ears when he pulls away and you can’t stop yourself from licking your own lips,
“Believe you mentioned somethin’ about cinnamon rolls in coffee mugs last night?”
You let out a soft laugh, nodding, before pulling the sheets back to start the day.
--
Really enjoyed adding a part 2 to this! thanks for reading or liking, reblogging, commenting, leaving asks! I really appreciate it :)
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thepersonalquotes · 1 year
Quote
To become a complete philosopher, you need to familiarize yourself with all the difficult questions.
Mwanandeke Kindembo
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