I’m at work right now and SOMEONE TIPPED $20. I didn’t even see who because I just noticed the bill folded up in the tip jar (underneath some ones and a five that I DID see people putting in) and the shop is empty right now. I texted my coworker Adla about it and she said the same thing happened when she was working yesterday. Holidays can bring out the worst in customers, but the best too. Thanks to whoever did that 😭
Erwin collects him from the holding tank. Under the winter coat and scarf he’s slung on, he’s in his pajamas. His expression is carefully neutral.
Levi doesn’t thank him. His one call was about watering the weedy little plant Hanji gave him last Christmas, not about bail.
“Are we going to talk about it?” Erwin asks.
Levi shrugs; checks the time on the clock on the wall of the police station to make a guess about how long Erwin’s had to stew this over. “Probably not,” he says simply. Two hours wasn’t so bad.
“Really,” says Erwin flatly.
The holding tank officer waves at Levi as he passes by – Erwin’s eyebrow raises, questioning. Levi shrugs again; takes his things that the officer passes over, his cell phone and wallet. He counts the bills folded neatly within to make sure they’re all there.
Erwin watches. The holding tank officer cracks a joke that Levi only half hears.
“Thanks,” Levi says once he’s done, eyes flicking to the badge pinned to the officer’s shirt and searching, “Officer Jaeger.”
Officer Jaeger smiles, right cheek dimpling. “Sounds to me like the other guy deserved it,” he confides, glancing at Erwin. “Sorry you had to sit in with him. We get a lot of calls around the holidays, so the tanks fill up fast.”
Erwin makes a noise behind Levi. Levi ignores it.
This is the thing; when Erwin meets Levi, it’s raining, and Levi is wearing a coat three times his size and a scowl, also three times his size. Levi is prickly, cold, and bleeding from his left temple. He’s aware of the picture he makes.
Once, Erwin calls him a stray, with a fondness that makes Lev’s chest tight and and uncomfortable. Levi isn’t kept, Erwin says, so much as he chooses, pointedly, to stay.
A part of him rankles at the comparison. The part that does has always been the loudest part of Levi’s being. He gets into a fight that evening, comes limping home at four, smelling of blood and alcohol. Soon, Erwin learns not to say these things; and in time, he says nothing fond or kind or gentle at all, all of his words artfully chosen and evenly-bland.
Levi thinks this is the better thing, for both of them.
It’s silent in the car ride home. Erwin’s turned off the radio, so that the only sound is the churn of tires on slicked asphalt and the distant rumble of the engine.
“How long,” says Erwin, tiredly, “do you think we can do this?”
It isn’t the first time he’s asked this question. Levi leans his forehead against the passenger’s side window, which is blessedly-cool and soothing to the headache that’s built itself behind his brow.
“As long as we allow ourselves,” he answers. He knows, without looking at Erwin, that it’s a cruel answer.
It’s the truth. If Levi were a better man, he would have left the morning after Erwin picked him up. If not that, then he would have at least taken Erwin’s kindness and affection and returned it, two-fold, ten-fold. He isn’t better, so he doesn’t.
Instead, on nights when the comfort of a settled and shared life has built itself all the way up, Levi goes out into darkened streets and prowls for fights. He doesn’t know how to do anything else or be anything but. If he had words to describe it, he’d give them up to Erwin as explanations, if not excuses.
He’s always lacked the faculty for language that Erwin has.
Instead, in the dark of their bedroom, he curls around Erwin’s bowed back and kisses his neck. He takes Erwin from behind, a hand folded over Erwin’s eyes. It is easy to be gentle when unseen. It’s the only time he thinks he can be.
“I forgive you,” Erwin says into the night. It’s done on purpose – he leaves the words, suspended in the still air, for Levi to pick up himself. He doesn’t force Levi to take them.
He winds himself tighter in response, like he can make himself part of Erwin if he does, and sleeps.
My Yuri on Ice wallet finally arrived <3333333333333
It’s officially my first YOI merch and I’m so happy I looooove iiiiit. The material is great and the print is gorgeous!! The latter was one of my main sources of concern because anime wallets tend to have really low quality prints that peel off easily, but this one doesn’t look like it’ll suffer that.
In the name of objectivity I must say it’s notably smaller than I expected (but that’s on me for not paying attention to measurements) and most importantly, it doesn’t have the long compartment for bills, but it does have a slightly looser pocket which can fit folded bills. Being used to a much bigger wallet (see photo for comparison), it’ll take time to adjust and get used to not having all that room, but I don’t care because my beautiful boys are so beautiful ;——-;
I also believe it might have a small magnet to stay closed, but I’m not sure. If it does, it’s not very potent, but gets the job done.
I’d been lusting after this wallet (it’d be more accurate to call it card case) since I first saw it, but missed Preorders and I was agonizing waiting for it to get restocked, I’m so happy I finally got my paws on it ;——–;
I’d been wanting to graduate from my old Death Note wallet which is in shambles after ten years of use (give or take, a very sturdy wallet)
Now I’m a little reluctant to discard it lol, but it looks so bad. It’s been of good service and a quick way for anyone to know first hand that I’m a weeb
Aaaaahhhh I’m so excited to go out and use my new wallet shame I don’t have a single penny orz
“Birth control is getting expensive,” Louis repeats aloud to himself, focused on the medical bill he’s just opened as he blindly locks back up his mailbox. “I could just stick with suppressants and condoms.” He continued, muttering to himself as he folded the bill back up. “It’s not like I have a boyfriend or a mate or anything like that to merit continuing taking them.”
“Do you normally announce your sex life in front of the mailboxes?” The voice is slow and deep and makes Louis immediately think of warm cocoa. He also doesn’t know the speaker, and he’s pretty sure that he knows everyone in the building. “Is that like, a thing in this building? Because I’d like to know, so I can avoid future awkward conversations.” There’s a dramatic pause for effect. “Even if they’re as gorgeous as you are.”
— There’s a strange alpha in the building that Louis calls home and he thinks maybe he’ll make a proposition to the alpha. It goes a bit different than expected.
The Plot: Harry is a world famous rock star who is closeted and never gives interviews. Louis is a failed novelist and reporter for a gossip magazine that has fallen on hard times. Louis is promised a promotion if he can get the ultimate get - an interview with Harry Styles. Louis finds out that Harry has a mountain cabin near where his friends Zayn and Niall live and heads up to try and meet him. In a twist of fate, Louis has an accident and Harry saves him. Will Louis get his story, or will the fact that he’s falling in love change things? Will Harry forgive him when he finds out Louis is lying to him? Will Harry find the courage to come out of the closet and finally be happy?
With his breakout single platinum three times over and his second album still selling out in stores around the world, Louis Tomlinson has made it to the top. However, his position as Pop Heartthrob of the Decade is threatened by the edgier, more artistic Zayn, who happens to be releasing an album a week after Louis’ upcoming third. Louis needs something groundbreaking- scandalous, even- to push past him in the charts. Much to Louis’ dismay, his PR team calls in The Sexpert.
Consulting with PR firm Shady, Lane and Associates pays the bills so that Harry Styles can spend his down time doing what he really loves: pouring over data. On weekends and late into the evenings, he researches gender, presentation, and sexual orientation, analysing the longitudinal study that is his father’s life’s work. That is, until his newest client, the popstar with the fascinating secret, drags him off his couch and frighteningly close to the spotlight.
As the album’s release date approaches, will Tomlinson and Styles be able to pull off the most risky PR scheme of the millennium and beat Zayn in sales or will the heat of their feelings for each other compromise everything?
Tell me the story of how we met,
when we were young
and stupidly lovesick,
and your hands were pianist hands,
and mine were made
I remember your mouth
in the shape of a kiss,
but memories are too easily swayed.
Never as accurate as the photographs
of the two of us
still tucked into my wallet,
between the folded-up bills
and my driver’s license.
But I can remember, at least,
your mouth was kiss-shaped.
I never liked the ending
of this story.
And every sugar-sweet memory
of you, and me, and the cat
that was more your cat than mine,
has become bitter and rotten with years,
until the only image of you
that matters anymore —
not the picture of you where you’re
laughing over a passage in a book,
nor the picture of your kissing-mouth
against my pulse
(and the threat of teeth;
you could have torn out my throat,
and you never did, not once,
not even when I begged you to) —
The only image of you I have left
is the back of your coat
as you walked away that last time.
And maybe our hands, now,
are full of splinters,
and maybe we clutched each other too tightly,
and maybe we are responsible
for every rotten thing in the world.
But tell me again the story
of how we met,
when we were drunk on affection,
when we knew nothing about the shadows
and the broken glass
and the demons inside of each other.
Help me remember what it felt like
to have your mouth on me
without the fear
for christmas, eisuke got mc a cake and a box of chocolate
the box of chocolate was wrapped
mc was extremely excited
she took a closer look
the wrapping was just a large check signed to her for 10 million
the cake was just a ton of 1,000 dollar bills tied together
slightly frightened, she gets the box of chocolate
she openes it
seeing that it was just regular wrappers, she sighs in relief
she opens a wrapper in hope for some chocolate
inside was 100 dollars
there were over 100 pieces
she then lookes down to the necklace eisuke gave her earlier that day
she opened the locket
inside was a folded up bill
she looks over to eisuke
eisuke merely grins
“what’s mine is yours” he says
Anna volunteers to work the kissing booth at the carnival.
His palms are sweaty and he can’t stop touching the back of his head.
She sees him approaching the booth and her heart is beating out of her chest.
Kristoff shoves a folded five dollar bill in the donation jar and grins at her through his thick blond fringe.
She takes her gum out of her mouth.
He licks his lips and leans down.
They crash together and they both see stars. He’s gentle but firm and everything she hoped he would be. Her lips taste like Dr Pepper and he wants to taste more of her but it’s over too soon.
He’s walking on a cloud, away from the girl with the cherry mouth when he feels something tug on his sleeve. She’s beaming up at him, biting her lip. “So, would you believe I’ve never been on the Ferris wheel?”
Jimin is dressed up to break some hearts. He always is these days. Designer suits and shoes, bills folded nicely and ready to be spent always in his pockets and a look in his eye that absolutely screams sin. He has to look good. It’s part of what he’s paid to do. Keep up the appearance. Jimin spends his time at galas, dinners, and in the beds of the high and mighty. There are no more days of scraping to get buy– scrambling to after school jobs just to put some contribution to the family and hopefully have something to put on the table. He doesn’t browse the cheapest of the cheap thrift shops in a blind hope for something even the least bit warm so he doesn’t freeze walking home when he has no money to even take the subway. No– he rides in cars paid for by others and buys fur straight of the designer’s racks these days. There’s no family to worry about anymore– that’s the past. That was then and this is now.
Now he’s sitting in the back of a sleek black car, idly watching the New York city buildings rush by as the drivers keeps his mouth shut as per ordered by Jimin. He doesn’t like the small talk. That’s for the clients.
Tonight he’s not attending a gala or a company dinner as a man’s desperate plus one. No, he’s simply going back to his roots in a way– as he likes to put it. But he’s not slipping into a cheap motel for some cheating husband to use– he’s going to the big leagues, the shiny, tall hotels to entertain some woman for the night. It’s not new scenery for him, but it’s a simple job he hasn’t taken in a while. Jimin is truthfully looking forward to the arrangement. It’ll be nice to have an easy night.
Sliding a few folded bills into the man’s hand before he climbs out of the car, Jimin glances up at him with a little smile, “Don’t wait up.” And then he’s slamming the car door behind him and making his way through the revolving glass doors, hands in his pocket and a look on his face like he owned the place. To any other guest he would look just like them– a rich little thing in town for some spending. He blended seamlessly into the ranks of the wealthy and no one batted an eye as he slipped into the elevator. 17th floor he was told by his boss this morning over the phone. 17th floor, room 1705 was the plaque greeting him on the wall as he hummed a sweet little tune to himself, knuckles rapping quietly on the dark wood as he rocked on his heel.
This better not be some old woman looking for a young toy.
‘Better luck next time buddy,’ Dean said with a laugh, clapping the shoulder of his opponent as he picked up the wad of notes from the side. His face split into a boyish grin as he fingered the notes. The losing guy just grunted in response, downing his beer as he trudged back to rejoin his table of friends.
Dean looked up as a shadow passed over him. He raised his eyebrows when he saw you stood before him leaning on a pool cue, a confident smirk on your lips and a fold of bills held on display between your thumb and forefinger.
‘Care to raise the stakes?’ you asked, watching as his eyes raked over your figure. He pulled his bottom lip through his teeth before he answered, a mischievous glint in his eye.