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frankchurchillsaysrelax · 2 years

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would you give me your self or turn and run

part one of three.

When Colin was little his father had a subscription to National Geographic. Colin used to love laying on the floor of his father’s study looking at the photos and being whisked away by his father's voice telling stories of new places, places outside of England with new people who were so different and yet so similar to them. His father had told him that one day Colin could visit anywhere in the world he fancied, he promised he would take him to some of his favorite places. When he died, so did that dream. His mother also canceled the subscription.

So, Colin spent his early teens perusing outdated issues and reading the articles for himself, recalling the bits his father would embellish and which parts he had left out. When he is sixteen his mother sends them all out to be recycled and he throws a tantrum as if he were still that little boy in his father’s study listening to his endlessly fascinating stories of the new places and new people he wished to explore. Travel was his first love and it ended in heartbreak.

Penelope is the one who encourages him to rekindle it. Once just his little sister Eloise’s best friend, Penelope, cherished by his family, had become his friend too even at just fourteen years old. Her quick wit and kind smile made her a joy to be around at all the functions their mothers were constantly dragging them to. They are at his eighteenth birthday party and he is complaining for the hundredth time about having no plans for his gap year when she says, “Why don’t you travel? You used to love those old Nat Geos.”

He hadn’t realized that anyone noticed, but of course, if anyone would it would be Pen. She’s quieter than his family, but it only makes her more perceptive, more observant of the world around her which gave her an enviable ease of navigating it.

“I can’t just leave and travel,” he says but does not sound resolved at all.

“Why not?” she counters, shrugging her shoulders like it was nothing, a challenging glint in her eyes. “You have the money and the time, you’re eighteen now. What’s stopping you from exploring the world, Colin Bridgerton?”

He spends the rest of the night flirting with Pen’s cousin Marina who was in town for a visit, but the whole time her words echo louder and louder in his mind. What’s stopping you?

So that is what he does, but he doesn’t stop after the year is up. He keeps going, buys a map and marks it up with all the places he’s been and all of the places he has yet to go. There’s no order or pattern to his wandering, he simply goes wherever he feels called to next. He volunteers where he can and bums around wherever he isn’t useful. He sleeps with women he’ll never see again and interviews old couples in broken attempts at their language about the history of their small villages, taking notes in a beat up old composition notebook to read over later. He’s never felt so free in his life. He answers to no one but himself. He only wishes his father was there.

The first email is sent sixteen months into his grand tour in the middle of the night as soon as he reads Eloise’s texts.

Eloise: Pen’s dad is dead

Eloise: Drunk driver

Eloise: Single car accident

He opens his laptop right away, squinting at the too bright screen and still half asleep. He writes a short message and hits send before he can second guess it.

Pen, I’ve just heard what happened. I’m so sorry. That sounds banal, I know, but it’s true none the same. If you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask. I know you never ask for help when you need it but this time please do. I remember what it feels like. -Colin

Her response comes two days later.

Colin, thank you, it’s very kind of you to think of me. Do you know what’s funny? I don’t even feel sad most of the time. I know that’s horrible to say and I couldn’t say it to anyone else, least of all Eloise who is being so supportive through all of this, but somehow typing it to you feels right. I don’t know what you know of my family but I’ve never been very close to my father. It doesn’t feel real that he’s gone yet, but maybe once that sinks in I’ll be able to cry. I guess it’s not really that funny after all. I’m sorry, that’s probably way more than you wanted to know. Thank you again for reaching out. I hope you are enjoying Sorrento. Best, Penelope

He had always known the Featheringtons weren’t as close knit as his own family. Penelope’s father had been a high functioning alcoholic who avoided social gatherings at any chance while her mother was a social climber trying her best to present a perfect family image. Her sisters were vapid dolls that were dressed up by their mother and shown off to the world. How shy, sweet, witty Penelope could be cut from the same cloth was beyond him. Still, he couldn’t imagine feeling nothing at the loss of a parent. There must be more to the Featherington dynamic than meets the eye and Colin feels nosy and intrusive for wanting Penelope to confide all of her secrets with him.

Pen, it’s ok to feel whatever you’re feeling even if it’s not what’s expected of you. If you feel like you can’t talk to Eloise (though I’m sure she would understand as well) you can always talk to me. I may not be around much anymore but I still consider you a friend. Sorrento is lovely with its painted houses and perfect views of the sea. They have lemons the size of your head. Literally, your head Penelope, I don’t understand who needs that much lemon? I’ve rented a car and take trips anywhere I can get to in a day. Driving the Amalfi Coast at sunset is like driving along the horizon itself, scary and thrilling all at once and ridiculously beautiful. You should see it someday for yourself. -Colin

And so begins their correspondence. He writes to her nearly every week, far more often than most of his siblings, and tells her all about the places he visits, describing the sights, sounds, and smells he encounters, giving far too much detail about foods he tastes.

… I met an elephant today. You’ve never felt so small in your life, both in physical size but also in your connection to nature. That we are able to share this earth with such magnificent creatures makes humanity seem insignificant…

…Carnival is bigger and brighter than any music festival or sporting event you’ve ever seen. I’ve never experienced such a kaleidoscope of colors, surrounding you and swirling together to create a burst of rainbows beaming around you all at once. The sight is only rivaled by the cacophony of sounds. If you stand in the street with your eyes closed you can isolate the voices and music that otherwise creates a buzzing hum in your ears…

…I’ve tasted the food of the Gods. No mortal meal will ever be enough for me again. (Don’t tell my mum I said that.) My tongue is vibrating, taste buds I didn’t even know I have brought to life by the blend of spices…

In turn, she writes back mostly with gossip that his family doesn’t fill him in on; from the obscure, that Marina is marrying her childhood sweetheart (the one she was very much with when she flirted with him on his birthday) to the vastly important, that Eloise has a boyfriend. He asks for all of the details on that little tidbit. She rarely talks of her own life and he has to pull it from her, curious as to what is going on with her as she prepares for her GCSEs or how she is getting on with her family.

…Mum has bought me another yellow dress for the charity gala next week. I look like a lemon drop. Eloise is bringing Theo, his first high society event. I feel bad, it’s like we’re feeding him to the wolves, but you know Eloise, if anyone says something even the slightest bit snide she’ll put them in their place…

…I think I want to go into publishing. I don’t know, does that seem silly? I just love books, I always have. I love words and the way people weave a story from them like a tapestry. I think I’d enjoy being part of that process, creating something beautiful from something so many people take for granted: our words…

His first real return home, apart from the odd weekend here or there spent solely with his family, is nearly three years after he first left. He’s home for two weeks in preparation for Daphne's wedding. He can hardly believe that his little sister, one year his junior but still worthy of the moniker, is getting married, and to a friend of Anthony no less. Watching them together his first night back, he can’t stop himself from privately bemoaning how much he has missed. It leaves an ache in his gut seeing how much Greg and Hyacinth have grown since his last visit, how his mother has redecorated nearly the entire first floor of their house, how beautiful certain people have become.

They are having a small welcome home dinner for him which was meant to be a surprise until Benedict spilled the beans, and he had invited Penelope himself. She was more than likely already on the guest list but he had wanted her to know he wanted her there. He sees her out of the corner of his eye, her bright red hair grabbing his attention from his conversation with his older brothers.

It suddenly hits him that three years have passed for her as well and the young teenager he had said goodbye to was nearly the same age he had been when he left. The last of her baby fat has been shed, leaving soft curves highlighted by the long, flowing summer dress she is wearing. Her hair is longer, nearly reaching her waist, and the light from the chandelier she stands under is reflected in the soft ringlets giving her a golden halo.

“Pen!” he shouts perhaps a little louder than necessary, interrupting whatever Anthony had been saying and attracting more than one set of eyes in his direction. Penelope’s are one of those pairs, shining bright blue even from across the room as she smiles warmly in his direction. He’s drawn to her and she meets him halfway. He holds his arms open for her to step into and after the smallest hint of hesitation, she does so. She’s as short as ever and he squeezes her tight, holding on for perhaps a few seconds longer than he’d meant to. Her hair smells like jasmine reminding him of a wedding he’d been invited to while he was living in Jakarta. When they part, Penelope tilts her head back with a wide smile that leaves sparkles in her eyes.

“Welcome home,” she says and even her voice, though still cheery and comforting, is different. Unless his memory is playing tricks on him.

…I am on a completely different time zone and my sleep schedule is absolutely fucked. Daph has us helping with all the final minutia for the wedding, which is fine, just maybe not on her timetable. It’s currently four a.m. and I’m hand calligraphing name tags for the reception dinner. Meanwhile, you’re just across the square but I haven’t seen you since Saturday. How are you getting out of this…

The wedding is a grand affair. It feels like half of London has been invited and between his mother and Simon’s godmother, Lady Danbury, he’s sure that there is some truth in that estimate. They marry in a church more stately than the church they grew up attending, somewhere to accommodate such a large number, and the reception takes place in the gardens of his new brother-in-law, Simon’s, family estate. Colin wanders them in the new suit his mother forced him to buy searching for a mass of red hair. He found the three other Featherington ladies easily enough and had successfully dodged them but the one he sought was more elusive.

He finds her on the edge of the dance floor watching the other guests enjoy themselves while absently swaying in her safe spot. She had a tendency, he’s noticed, of standing on the sidelines, not just physically but in her emails as well, always holding something back. He hasn’t had a chance to properly speak with her since he arrived home and he has found himself missing their conversations. He is eager to speak to her in person.

“Hey, Pen,” he whispers directly next to her ear, his breath causing the wisps of hair surrounding her face to brush against her cheek. He relishes the way she startles, jumping straight in the air.

“Colin, don’t do that,” she scolds, but she is smiling. She’s wearing yellow again which he knows she hates, the pale color often clashing with her hair. The dress itself is nice; off the shoulder and floor length, hugging the curves of her waist and then fanning out into a fuller skirt. Her curls are tamed and partially pulled back with a pink ribbon, the rest falling over her bared shoulders. She looks pretty and he tells her so.

“Thanks,” she says, glancing down at herself. Then, awkwardly, “so do you.”

“Thanks.” They stare at each other, neither knowing what words come next in this little play they’re performing. He had thought that their easy camaraderie through writing would translate to an actual conversation but instead, he feels stuck.

“How did your maths test go?” he asks just for something to say. She looks surprised that he remembers even though it’s only been three weeks since she mentioned it. Her surprised features pinch into a wince and he laughs for it is answer enough.

She shakes her head at him, an unruly curl falling in her face. She pushes it back and he tracks the movement with his eyes, a burst of affection overtaking him at the familiarity of the gesture, and just like that the tension is broken letting them speak openly. He asks what she’s reading (she’s on a gothic horror kick right now) and she wonders where he will travel to next (Greece and then on to Romania to help an old school friend with setting up his new foundation). They people watch like they used to, trading comments on what they know of the other attendants.

Colin notices immediately when Penelope lights up at the change in song, some upbeat pop number he doesn’t recognize but that sounds like a million other songs he has heard before. Her foot starts tapping along to the music and Colin makes a decision. “Shall we?” He grabs her hand, tugging gently as he nods towards the dance floor in question.

“Oh, no,” she says, shaking her head emphatically. “I’m not much of a dancer.” Well, that’s a blatant lie, he’s seen her and Eloise dance together countless times over the years, always acting silly and enjoying themselves when it was just the two of them.

Still holding her hand he says, “I doubt you’re worse than him,” pointing his chin in the direction of a bloke who was really getting into the song, his dance moves consisting mostly of exaggerated pelvic thrusts and fist pumping. Penelope giggles and he tugs on her hand again, this time meeting less resistance. She follows him onto the dance floor looking nervously around at the people who are paying them no mind. He uses their joined hands to twirl her in place startling a breathless laugh from her. She joins him then in dancing to the beat and soon loses herself in the music. At the bridge, the whole floor starts jumping causing a thundering echo of footsteps as cheers ring through the air. Her hair sweeps off her shoulders revealing flushed skin that travels up her neck and onto her cheeks and her smile is radiant as the song ends and moves on to another.

They stay on the dance floor for some time. Long enough for the sun to set and the sky to grow from vivid oranges and pinks to an inky deep blue, the stars peeking out from their daily nap. Simon and Daphne make a brief appearance to much applause. Daph looks beautiful, the perfect bride in her fine lace dress with baby’s breath in her hair, and her new husband stares at her like there is no one else in the universe. It is a perfect night and it feels like home.

…I was standing in the middle of the ruins of Delphi when I was hit with a wave of homesickness. I can’t tell you what caused it, all I know is that suddenly all I wanted was to be back with my family. Or maybe I just wanted you all to be here with me. It was nice to be home for a while but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get a thrill as soon as I stepped on that plane…

…Do you think I should be doing more with my life? Be honest. I mean, Fife has set up this whole non-profit, Anthony made partner at 28 which is unheard of, and Ben is getting his first proper gallery show next month. What have I done except spend money hopping from one city to another? I’m nothing. Never mind me Pen, I’m drunk...

He sends the rambling pity party masquerading as a normal email even though he probably shouldn’t. He doesn’t expect a response but as always, she surprises him.

Colin, you asked for honesty and that is what you’re going to get. I think what you’re doing is amazing. Most people never leave their hometown except maybe to go to a beach somewhere or a long line of museums, but you’re out there expanding your worldview, helping people. You immerse yourself in whatever new place you settle. I have your emails as proof if you don’t believe me. The way you write about every experience is beautiful and I can tell that you are making the most out of each one. You are truly living and not just bumming around aimlessly or taking the next expected steps like the rest of us. Also, you are only twenty one, Colin. You needn’t be comparing yourself to your brothers (or anyone else for that matter) who are older than you and at a different stage in their life. You have time. -Pen

The next time he’s home is for a funeral. Well, actually it is another wedding reception but seeing as Anthony eloped without anyone knowing he was seriously dating anyone, Colin’s mother hasn’t ruled out the possibility of murder.

He arrives late, straight off the plane after a nine hour flight. The world spins slower, changing gravity’s pull and making everything feel heavier from his feet to the air in his lungs. The first person he sees is Benedict who immediately offers to fetch him a drink which he doesn’t say no to. The second is Penelope.

“Col, you made it!” she says joyously, reaching out to give him a hug. He leans on her a little more than necessary as he tiredly reciprocates. “Did you just get in?”

“Yeah, came straight here. My bag is in the lobby.” He offers her a real smile, feeling more energized just from her sunny presence.

She laughs and looks him over from head to toe, taking in his dark joggers and wrinkled button down, the patchiness of his beard and undoubtedly translucent pallor of his tanned skin. Her nose scrunches up. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” he snarks though with little heat as he knows she’s right. “Figured I’d give Anthony a bit of reprieve from mum’s wrath. Wedding present and all that.”

She throws her head back in laughter and it sounds like a lullaby, soothing his weary edges. “So, have you met the lovely Kate yet?”

“No,” he sighs, “but Daph says she’s wonderful.” Kate, the sister of Anthony’s blind date who’d shown up as backup only to leave with Ant’s phone number.

“Oh, she is! And Anthony is completely different around her. He smiles,” she whispers with raised eyebrows, “and he’s all loved up. I think it’s sweet.”

Colin finds he can’t wait to see it. His brother had sounded different on the phone for the last few months but Colin had just assumed he’d been doing well at work. The thought of their eldest brother, the perpetual bachelor, falling in love and getting married was too much for him and his siblings to wrap their heads around. They’d been texting each other daily trying to decide if the whole thing was an elaborate scheme.

“Speaking of loved up, is Connor here?” Penelope has been seeing a guy from Uni for a short while now. He has limited details parsed over several emails: Irish, kind, rugby player.

“No, he had to work,” Penelope says almost dismissively. “He couldn’t get off on such short notice.”

“Too bad, I’d have liked to meet him.” He doesn’t know why that feels like a lie, the words sticking to the insides of his dry mouth.

“Maybe next time.” With how rarely he visits, Colin wonders if she’ll still be seeing him next time he is home, if it is that serious, but wisely says nothing.

…Eloise says she told you. I’m so proud of her. I could tell she had been struggling with something for a while now and I hated seeing her hurting so. Luckily, Theo is the sweetest man and they’ve stayed friends. I talked to him at dinner last week and I think he’s always known, or at least suspected, that she’s gay. I can only imagine what it must be like to love someone for years while knowing they’ll never feel the same…

…What is happening with my family? First Daphne then Anthony and now Benedict? And mum is asking me when I’m going to come home and settle down. I’ve never even been in love, haven’t had a girlfriend in years, and now she wants to marry me off. Is there something in the air? The water? Whatever it is, keep it away from me. Did he really not recognize her twice? And they call me the oblivious one…

Augie is the cutest baby he’s ever seen and he’s not even exaggerating. He doesn’t let go of his nephew for at least an hour after Daphne introduces them, the baby falling asleep in his arms. His mother takes her grandson from him eventually and he wanders out to the terrace to find his older brothers. It’s a full house, everyone having descended upon their childhood home for Sunday brunch and he hasn’t had a chance to catch up with either of them yet.

“So when are you coming home for real, brother?” He should have stayed with the baby.

“Not you too,” he groans. “Mum is already on my case and I’ll tell you what I told her: I have no plans to permanently move back to London.”

“You’ve been doing this travel thing for seven years,” Ben says seriously. “Don’t you think it’s time to get a job?”

“Says the artist!” Colin scoffs. He doesn’t need a job any more than Benedict does, each of them able to live comfortably off of their trust funds if they so choose. He feels wounded at the implication that he isn’t doing anything with his life, the sentiment hitting too close to every one of his insecurities.

“Maybe meet a nice girl and settle down?” Anthony teases with a shit-eating grin on his face. He’s never wanted to punch someone more in his life.

“I know plenty of nice girls. None that I can’t see myself settling down with.” He is so over this conversation.

Benedict and Anthony share a look, communicating something silently. Anthony must lose whatever competition they’re having because suddenly he asks, “Not even, Penelope?”

Colin blinks owlishly at them. “Penelope? As in Penelope Featherington?” They can’t be serious. Pen is his friend, a good friend, but there’s never been anything more than that between them.

“Yes,” Anthony continues, crossing his arms and leveling him with an austere expression that bores through him to his very soul, “you two have gotten quite close over the years. We know all about your letter writing.”

“Emails,” he corrects, still completely lost at the direction this conversation has taken. Letter writing sounds far too old fashioned and romantic. He feels exposed, parts of himself he’s not sure are true on display.

“Whenever you’re home you spend an awful lot of time together.” Benedict looks positively gleeful. “You can’t say you’ve never thought about it,” he accuses.

“I haven’t,” Colin swears, fiercely. It’s the truth. “Pen is…well, she’s Pen.” He feels a bit helpless. He contemplates how high the jump off the terrace would be.

“She’s also a beautiful young woman that you care a great deal for,” Anthony pesters leaving Colin feeling hot and itchy like he’s having some kind of allergic reaction.

He erupts. “For God’s sake, I’m not going to marry Penelope Featherington.” Her name on his tongue tastes sour for the first time. The very thought causes an odd fluttering in his stomach and he has to latch onto the back of a chair to keep himself tethered to reality.

Benedict goes to say something else but freezes, his gaze fixed on something over Colin’s shoulder with a worried look on his face. When Colin turns to look at the doors behind him there is nothing there.

…I haven’t heard from you in a while. I’m sure you’re busy what with it being your last year of school and all but I miss you. Your emails are something I look forward to every week and their absence has been loud. I’m not saying this to guilt you into writing to me, I just wanted to let you know how precious you and your letters are to me…

#my fic #polin #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton fic #bridgerton #posting it in two parts because i can't read this another time #would you give me your self or turn and run

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mrkstyx · 10 months

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9 Steps to Being Completely Miserable:

1. Always blame someone else for your problems.

Popular choices include the government, society at large, big corporations, your parents, that group of evil people that you don't really like.

Me? I just blame everything on my dad.

2. Complain constantly.

Now that you've found someone to blame for all your problems, you wanna spend as much time and energy as possible telling other people that it's their fault, because after all, what's the point of being miserable if you can't make everybody else around you miserable as well?

3. Avoid anything remotely uncomfortable or challenging.

That means no exercising, no honest and difficult conversations with our loved ones or the people we care about. It definitely means developing no new skills or hobbies, and it certainly means never changing your mind about any of your beliefs whatsoever.

4. Wait for someone else to come fix all your problems.

Now, this could be somebody close to you, like a family member. It could be an imaginary girlfriend or boyfriend. It could be a politician, I recommend that. I also recommend putting all your hopes and dreams on some douchey internet personality. Because that’s definitely gonna turn out well.

5. Get angry when that person doesn't fix all your life's problems.

That's right, people suck. Everybody lets you down and you can't trust anybody. But remember, it's not your fault. It's *their* fault.

6. Become obsessed with what other people think about you.

An old friend that you haven't heard from in years suddenly sends you a happy birthday text. What do they want? What do they *really* want? Oh, look, somebody landed in your DMs on Instagram. Does that mean they like you? Should you be funny? Should you be interested? Should you be aloof?

7. Validate all of your thoughts and ideas on social media.

If you have crazy ideas of political revolution, the algorithm will find some idiot pundits to justify those beliefs. If you feel like all women are absolutely disgusting and you're gonna stay single forever, don't worry, social media's got your back. You're not the problem, they're the problem.

8. Numb yourself.

Obviously, things like video games, porn, TikTok, they're a nice starting point, but that's kind of the bare minimum. If you're ready to get serious about numbing yourself to the outside world, may I recommend a mild case of alcoholism, a gambling addiction, or maybe spending all your life savings on cheap hookers.

9. Believe that change is impossible.

Now that we've baked the whole miserable cake, it's time to put the icing on top. And that is a belief in the impossibility of change, because what is more miserable than the belief that misery itself will never end?

#mark manson

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kitacco · 3 years

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clouds.

pairing: fem!reader, gojo satoru.

genre: angst, smut.

summary: ignorance is a bliss.

cw: age gap, manipulation, violence, cursing.

wordcout: 2.7k.

! part two !

you and gojo met a long time ago, through mutual friends.

one of your friends was dating one of gojo’s friends. sheer coincidence, you thought.

you two would meet often, along your friends. for some reason, you and gojo happened to be intimate friends of each friend in common, so you’d often find yourself sitting by gojo’s side while the couple chatted and kissed lovingly. gojo didn’t talk to you at first, neither did you. he was older than you, much more, and you were too intimidated by his appearance. you’d rather stay in silence then talk to him and make yourself look like a fool.

but gojo wasn’t like that - at first.

that’s how the both of you started to look forward to these little getting-togethers, asking your friends for when the four of you would hang out again.

it’s actually pretty funny to think how the both of you became friends, even your friend joked about it.

one night, at your friend’s place, the two of you got a little overwhelmed with the lovey-dovey atmosphere your friends were putting up on the couch. gojo had left a few minutes before you, leaving you behind. you couldn’t take it, and decided to leave for a while too, entering the kitchen without noticing gojo sitting on the floor mindlessly. of course, his long legs and your silly feet met together, making you fall on the floor right next to him.

you hated when gojo would bring it up everytime people asked how the two of you became so close, telling them how red you looked.

your friends dated for three years, until, like every relationship, things started to get tough, until they broke up. you were devastated, but the two of them assured you that they’d get along for the safety of you and gojo’s friendship.

you didn’t mind it, gojo either. thinking the friendship would start to dissipate, the two of you continued to meet, this time just the two of you. gojo would invite you to his place, and you’d invite him to yours. like any other friendship, you guys would talk, sometimes drink, sometimes fall asleep on the couch while watching a movie, sometimes drive around, anything. you believed your friendship with gojo was pretty strong, despite the difference in age, he became really important to you, and so did you to gojo.

so then, when did things got crude?

you knew the answer, and so did gojo. but the two of you had erased the chapter long ago.

one night, you and gojo found each other in a rather large group of mutuals friends. he hadn’t told you he was coming, and neither did you. nothing was going on, the two of you had met just yesterday, but since each of your friends (at the moment exes) had invited you and gojo, you thought it’d be impossible to meet. yet there the two of you were.

gojo was bewildered when he saw you coming inside his friend’s place, your best friend by your side with a smile on her face. the two of you were quick to catch on what was happening. your friends informed you not too later, telling you the two had started talking again and were gonna try to make it work one last time.

you blamed it on the atmosphere, gojo on the alcohol. either way, the two of you locked eyes, following each other up the stairs.

the first time, the two of you agreed it was a spur of the moment. gojo hadn’t gone out in a while and neither had you, it was understandable.

the second time, the both of you thought the same thing; you were just in need of some action every once in a while.

but then, why the both of you met a third time?

“what do you think?”

you accepted his offer without hesitation. you trusted gojo, and you thought it’d be a good idea to help each other, after all, you were friends, right?

that’s how everything started.

gojo would come knocking on your door like any other day, the two of you would chat, maybe cook something, watch a movie, and then gojo would start kissing your neck, and you’d run your hands through his hair.

you thought you were so lucky. gojo was a handsome man, and you knew if he wanted, he could get in the bed of any other women he wished, yet he picked you.

maybe that’s why, through the time, your eyes started to see gojo in a different light.

you couldn’t be blamed, gojo did too. he was gentle, loving, making sure you had a good time, you almost believed he was starting to feel the way you did.

until gojo finally looked into your eyes.

he ignored it, since, there was no way you felt that way about him, right? it was the unwritten rules in this game the two of you were playing. it’s been years, why’d you see him like that at this point?

gojo ignored as much as he could everytime he rocked his hips into you, but in no time, it was impossible to avoid your eyes, watching him lovingly as your tongue dangled out of your mouth in pleasure.

the most smart decision probably would’ve been talking about it. it was simple, gojo just had to tell you he didn’t feel the same way, you were a special friend to him, but he didn’t see you in such eyes.

but gojo started to bottle those thoughts up. he’s met many women in his life, and he didn’t want things to end like that with you, he didn’t want to lose you too.

that’s what he told himself - even though, what gojo didn’t notice, was that instead of your company, he started to enjoy more your body.

gojo had a good time with you, you were sweet, you would take anything he offered you. everything gojo wanted to try you accepted it with puppy eyes, eyes that started to unsettle gojo.

because, who in their right mind would allow be touched under the table with all your friends around?

and who would allow a man like him call you names and slam you against a wall the second he entered your house?

you did, and gojo started to dislike it.

you were so naive, so utterly in love with gojo, and enamored at the idea of him loving you the way you dreamed he would, you started to accept more and more.

gojo would fuck you with your head hanging out the side of the bed, your body swinging and the blood rushing to your head, disrupting the pleasure you concentrated on feeling, because you should be enjoying whatever gojo did with your body.

you knew you didn’t, though. you knew you hated when gojo would ask you to suck him on the bathroom while your friends chatted outside, and you hated when he fucked you in a public bathroom in the middle of your friends wedding. but how could you complain? gojo loved you.

you should’ve stopped him the moment you stopped feeling the high he did. the moment the pleasure he was feeling didn’t reach you, but you didn’t. not because you thought gojo loved you, but because you loved him.

you brought it up one time, as gojo stripped you of your clothes, the blood rushing through your ears by the way he yanked your shirt over your head. “i think you’re being too rough.”

gojo chuckled, tilting his head as he planted a kiss on your mouth, assuring you’d eventually enjoy it.

you believed him, even the mornings after when your legs and arms were sour, and you were incapable of opening your mouth too wide. gojo would only laugh.

gojo hated it, though.

gojo hated the way you would continue to stick around like a lost puppy. he couldn’t bring himself to stop the situation, but why weren’t you stopping him?

after that comment, you never said anything else, and gojo knew you wanted to, he hoped you wanted to. because he knew you hated the things he was making you do. you weren’t that kind of person, hell, you hated that kind of attention. gojo knew the only reason you agreed to fuck without compromises the first time was because you wanted him to be happy. gojo knew that, and hated you for that.

why were you acting like a bunny? you weren’t like that. you weren’t docile like guinea pig, nervous like a deer, no, you weren’t like that. you were funny and straightforward, you never let anyone step over you, but then, why were you letting gojo step all over you like that?

gojo knew the answer at the bottom of his heart, but he, like many other things, ignored it. he wasn’t responsible for you, you were a grown adult and you could take care of yourself. if you wanted to, you’d easily get up and end everything. but why weren’t you.

things between you and gojo started to change. soon becoming a year, this dynamic continued between the two of you, yet, the connection was nonexistent. he wouldn’t call, nor text you, and the only time you two would meet was when he was feeling horny. he would come, fuck you, and leave right after finishing. at first, he’d tell you goodnight, he’d tell you to have a good day or he’d greet you before entering your place. but after a month, he would only come inside your place, fuck, and leave right after. you tried to get him to talk, trying to grab onto him everytime he finished, and gojo quickly picked on your behaviour.

you soon realized that probably the reason gojo continued to stick around you wasn’t because he considered you a friend, but because you were easy to control; you were his source of entertainment.

who would put up with gojo satoru? you laughed to yourself, would anybody allow to be treated the way gojo does to you? maybe that’s also the reason why he’s constantly knocking at your door.

once gojo noticed how much you tried to get him to stay a few minutes by your side, he decided the only way to stop you was fucking you dumb enough you’d pass out.

gojo knew you didn’t deserve to be treated like this. gojo knew he was a dickhead, taking advantage of the friendship you had built over the years. the thought of another man treating you like this was revolting. the thought of another man abusing your trust, betraying you like that, hell, he’d probably go after that guy and kill him with his bare hands if he could. yet there he was, growling onto your ear and violently pounding into you.

the fact you allowed this to happen, permitted him take you whenever and wherever, managed to hunt him. everytime he heard you panting next to his body, incapable of bringing yourself to your feet, gojo turned his back to you. and he wishes, he fervently wishes the image of your face in pain, silently begging for him to stop, could knock some sense into his head.

news flash: it doesn't.

everytime he notices your eyes close tight and your fingers fidgeting, gojo regains energy, taking in the noises coming out of your mind and reading you like an open book, only inciting this sick flame inside of home. the sick idea that if he treats you like this, you will walk out.

gojo folds your body and he knows you can’t take it, praying you will scream and push him away. you should. but then why are you putting up with this?

gojo doesn’t understand, that’s why you try to think.

but gojo knows what he’s doing is wrong. gojo damn well knows, and that hope slowly turns into loathing, because, are you stupid? can’t you take the hint?

this could be easily solved if he spoke to you. but gojo had long gotten bored of any form of communicating, he hated weak people.

gojo hated you and that sick love you felt for him.

gojo watched your friends reactions to your bruised neck. it’s not like he cared. he wished you did though. but you assured them you were alright every single team.

“your friends are fucking dumb,” he scowled in your ear while your body continued to shake, his hips yanking you forward and forward where the top of your head continously hit the headboard.

gojo started hating your friends, he would always remind you that. he hated them because everytime he grabbed your neck with all his force, they still wouldn’t budge.

how long were you gonna put up with this?

“there he is,” gojo hears coming from the door as heavy steps approach him.

he doesn’t react fast enough, and a hand lands on his cheek with such force he’s genuinely dumbfounded.

“babe!” his friend yells, watching his girlfriend take a step back, gojo’s cheek swelling at the hit.

“what is wrong with you?” she screams again, completely ignoring his friend.

gojo has a bad feeling, but he doesn’t say anything.

his friend is quick to grab onto his girlfriend, who suddenly feels like slapping gojo across the cheek again.

“you psycho! what is wrong with you?” she says again, and gojo knows what she’s talking about.

your friends had gone on their honeymoon, leaving for about two months. within those two months, gojo and you started to experience new situations. gojo would slap your face, your cheek, your mouth, every time getting a little more and more violent with you.

your friends never said anything, but he knew your best friend would.

still, he was hoping you’d try to stop her, so where were you right now?

“babe, calm down, what are you talking about?”

“well, your asshole of a friend has been doing whatever the hell he wants with my friend and i won’t let him get away with it!”

gojo’s friend is confused, but gojo doesn’t say anything, expectant of what you had probably said.

“she thinks i don’t notice but how can i ignore it? gojo’s been treating her like a bag of sand, like a lifeless doll he can do whatever the hell he wants to and i won’t let him any longer!”

“why doesn’t she come here and say it herself?”

the two other people are taken aback. gojo is wearing a contented smile, as if he was finding the situation amusing. your friend scoffs, genuinely dumbfounded.

“what?”

“if she’s having a bad time why doesn’t she tell me?”

“you dumb fuck, maybe because she loves you?”

“and what has that to do with me?”

your friend latches at his cheek one more time, but gojo traps her wrist in his fingers before she can hit him with her force. his friend comes into the argument, “i don’t think you’re being fair, gojo.”

“how is she being fair? i never force her to do anything, why are you putting the blame on me?”

gojo shrugs, walking out of the kitchen, leaving the couple completely speechless.

you jump on your seat at the banging of your door. is late in the night, still, you don’t expect gojo to be at your door, neither were you expecting him to treat you with such force.

“what’s up with you?”

his fingers wrap around your neck, completely enveloping his hand around it, with so much force your eyes are quickly seeing white dots.

“w-what do you mean?”

“if something’s happening you’re telling me, right?” he asks you, but you don’t know if he expects an answer, either way, you were unable to answer, barely fighting for the last of air in your system. “answer!”

“i can’t,” you whisper.

gojo’s cloudy vision finally clears out the moment he feels a tear run down his hand. you start sobbing, unconsciously losing air, but you’re incapable of stopping yourself. you can’t take it anymore.

gojo takes a step back and you fall to your knees, your fingers going straight to your neck as you exhale.

“we’re done,” is all he says.

“wait! wait, gojo, please wait!” you call out, running after him. gojo isn’t running, but his legs move faster than he’s ever walked, trying to disappear from your presence as fast as he can.

because he’s finally realized everything he’s done, and he finally realizes how much he genuinely loves you.

#gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk angst #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #tw. age gap #tw. manipulation #tw. cursing #tw. violence

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jujutsu-headcanons · 3 years

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Gojo Satoru general headcanons

Let's get one thing clear: this man is absolutely chaotic. He is always full of energy. His energy levels never reach below 50%. He is loud and proud, always running, and never takes a minute to relax.

Do not give him Monster. Shoko did that once and it took her forever to get him off the ceiling. Also, avoid caffeine. Shoko replaces his normal coffee with decaf and he still hasn't noticed the difference. Keep it that way.

He was the class clown when he was younger. He wasn't exactly a trouble maker, but he may as well be. I cannot word that sentence and I am sorry. Next.

All of his teachers assumed he never listened in class, so they always called in him when they thought he wasn't paying attention. It still shocked them every time he rattled off the correct answer.

Not only did he answer the question correctly, but he could also explain his reasoning behind the answer, and if it was multiple choice, explain why the other answers were wrong.

This tall man child would march up to the board and absolutely fill it to the brim with work, turn around, drop the chalk-like a mic drop and walk back to his desk with the smuggest look on his face.

That doesn't mean he did the work tho

Idk how schools in japan work but we all know schools in America only care about the amount of work you do and not what you actually know so we'll use that for the sake of the headcanon: he had straight D's bc he never turned in his work

Despite not doing the work snd goofing off, teachers actually really liked him

A lot of people liked him and he was super popular, but he still felt alone

Fake friends, you know how that works, he didn't meet any real friends until he became a shaman

Clean freak. This dude actually makes his bed. He scrubs his bathroom twice a week. His desk can get cluttered but he straightens up once a week. He's not exactly a germaphobe because

He cannot respect your personal space and that's actually canon but let me take it a step further

He's a slapper. Especially when he laughs. It doesn't hurt, it's playful dw. He hugs you from behind especially when he's cold. He picks you up and carries you around. He will grab your wrist, arm, or hand and lead you around even if you're following him. He lays his legs across you or lays across your lap. Puts his head on your shoulder. Platonic cuddling between friends is mandatory. He's just so hands-on it's ridiculous.

Unless you explicitly tell him you're uncomfortable he won't stop

Don't worry, if you aren't in that type of relationship, your no-no square is safe. Except, if you seem chill, he will slap your ass regardless of friendship status. His ass is also slappable. You can't tell me Geto and Gojo didn't run around slapping each other asses, okay

He was weird and scrawny as a child. He didn't start beefing out until he started training to be a shaman and he's still kinda smaller than most beefy boys

He can pick you up and throw you around easily. He carried around a 170 pound Yuji like a sack of potatoes and can easily carry around three times that weight

It's amazing he's so tiny because you remember 2014 Shane Dawson making all of those wack ass desserts that was just s pile of chaos wrapped in chocolate?

He can eat every last bite of one of those monstrosities without getting a stomach ache, gaining weight, or dying basically

He knows bc Yuji dared him to do it

He has really cold hands and feet

He sounds old. Let me elaborate. He's constantly cracking his joints. They also creak when he moves. He complains about body pains like he's 80 y/o

He also shares wisdom with the kids as if he's actually 80 y/o

It's irrelevant advice that doesn't make sense but is also useful. Megumi can't count the number of times he's asked Gojo for feedback on his technique but had been told to remember to chew 40 times or never go to bed angry

Starts off sentences with "now son" and "when I was your age"

He uses his blindfold as a headband when he wants his hair out of his face. He also uses headbands as... Headbands... When he wants to wear sunglasses but get his hair out of his face

He owns so many pairs of sunglasses but he always wears the same pair

He's only bought a handful of them himself, most of them are gifts

No one knows what to get him for Christmas or his birthday bc he has everything, so they resort to sunglasses

His favorite pair is a pair that Shoko and Geto bought him as a gag. He thought they were dead serious, though, so he wore them around for a month

They were heart-shaped, rose-tinted glasses

Can you believe this man doesn't use any gel or anything to keep his hair spiky with the blindfold on? It just naturally defies gravity when the blindfold is on

Tell this man he's pretty because he already knows. He's narcissistic but not the cringy kind

Photogenic as hell. Takes great pictures from any angle.

He gives everyone a different story as to why he covers his eyes. Sometimes he says it's because his eyes are too pretty and are a distraction. Sometimes he says it's because the sunglasses/bandages/blindfold look cooler than his eyes. Sometimes he says it's to protect the six eyes from seeing things he doesn't want to see. The world may never know

He's tried covering his whole face before, but he thinks he's too pretty for that. He at least wants one of his many amazing features to be shown at all times.

So about his driver's license;

He knows how to drive. He can be a good driver. When he wants to be. He just doesn't have a driver's license.

Now he TELLS people he just never got around to getting one, however, there's a rumor he lost it due to too many parking tickets

It's amazing the only tickets he's ever gotten have been from that and once he got caught without a seatbelt; he would have gotten out of that one if he hadn't been flirting with the police officer so bad

This doesn't stop Gojo from driving places though

He steals Ijichi's car a LOT and Ijichi DOESN'T KNOW HOW like??? The windows are never broken and it doesn't look hotwired-

Gojo has a key

You're not even supposed to be able to duplicate car keys but Gojo did

Also; none of the first-year trio knows he doesn't have a driver's license, though that much should be painfully obvious

He whips around corners, speeds up at yellow lights, goes "watch this" and does a donut, it's just a mess

The poor students have to sit in the backseat too. Just imagine Megumi with all three seatbelts around him like that one meme.

He thrives off of Nobara and Yuji screaming from the backseat, and he can see Megumi being smooshed because he thought the middle seat was the safest through the rearview mirror

Which he doesn't even need because of the six eyes

Despite being such a reckless driver, he knows when danger will happen, so he's never once gotten in a wreck

He blasts the radio, which makes up for the driving.

Has a habit of getting in a car and ending up in the McDonalds drive-thru

Steals other people's fries and keeps the fullest one for himself.

He was rebellious as a kid and teenager, but hey, at least his juvie record is sealed

He's been detained and in the back of a cop car many times, but the reason was never really bad enough for him to be arrested. Mostly he's just being mouthy. And the time he got caught spray painting on the side of a building. And that one time he and Getou hopped the fence to get into the local pool. And that other time-

It got worse after Getou wasn't around to get him out of trouble. Suddenly, breaking the rules wasn't fun anymore and he mellowed out.

Tried alcohol and cigarettes before he was legal. Decided neither was his thing, however, he did start drinking occasionally when he was legal.

He's a fucking chaotic drunk. Oh my god he's absolutely feral

Most bars in the vicinity know him by name and they sigh whenever he walks in

Shoko is his emergency contact. She hates it

Shoko has to drag drunk Gojo home at least twice a month and is not happy about it

Once she left him in an alley. He made it home okay so she guesses it's fine

Once he got so drunk he spilled beer on his sock. The thought the fastest way to dry them was by sticking them in the microwave. Forgot about it until someone asked, "Who the fuck is cooking socks???"

I feel it important he was in the break room of the local grocery store and no one knows how he got there

As he was escorted out he stole a grocery cart and rode away in it while singing Don't Threaten Me (With A Good Time) by Panic! At The Disco

He has no alcohol tolerance at all what so ever

He will literally just stare at you and giggle

It's funny he's really flirty but also doesn't seal the deal. Literally, every woman in that bar is willing to get in his bed but he declines every offer. No one knows why

Its because he respects women

He helps his students break the rules as long as they're within reason. Once night Yuji was really hungry and after having a temper tantrum he couldn't order Uber eats bc the school is supposed to be secret Gojo helped sneak him out to get food. Who needs curfew anyway.

The shirts in his closet range from like twenty bucks to the iconic rich bitch shirt the kids ruined in that one chapter we all know the one

He still wears that by the way, he calls it "art"

When he was younger, Megumi drew a picture of Gojo being eaten by his shadow dogs. Gojo found it and now it's framed in his room.

He keeps up with current trends and memes like no one's business. This is how he bonds with his kids.

Don't call him old, but also, he'll tell you to respect your elders it's a mess

He has a lot of games on his phone. You can usually find him holding his phone sideways playing some RPG game he probably spent too much money on

He did hop on the Pokemon Go hype train but after becoming overpowered he got bored

This happens to a lot of games. He pays way too much money, gets to be the strongest in the server, and gets bored

He likes games where you can kill other people's troops and likes to watch as they lose all their power

I canon him as being borderline sadistic

This is why he's Sakata Gintoki reincarnated

White hair, sweet tooth, black leather clothes, dad vibes, never takes anything seriously bc when he does he's scary as fuck, the works.

He is Sakata Gintoki

He liked Gintama growing up. He watched a lot of iconic shows as they aired. He considers himself an og

He's hella bilingual

Because he's the strongest he goes overseas for missions a lot. Because of this he speaks a lot of languages and knows a lot about international cuisine

He takes pictures of himself eating disgusting foods like snails. He never likes them but he loves the idea of Nobara gagging back in japan

Has paperwork sitting untouched on his desk from three months ago that he will not touch for at least another three months

Does the crossword puzzles in the newspaper every week

Uses humor as a coping mechanism and it honestly just became a personality

Constantly popping his joints. I'm sorry if you find this gross I too find it gross.

Probably brought home every stray animal he ever met ever until he was at least like 22 y/o

Tags: @wasabito @kittaliapenn

#jjk #jjk spoilers #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #gojo headcanons #gojo satoru headcanons

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glameowr · 2 years

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I'll bite. What's the deal with Clint from Stardew? I wanna hear this rant

oh god okay this is gonna be long im sososo sorry. also most of it is points i got from the youtuber leapalot that i agree with

most of why i dont like clint comes down 2 his weird obsession with emily …

- clint stays at the saloon until 12:00 on most days. i dont think its bc hes an alcoholic like pam but i think its bc hes watching emily the whole time (emily works at the saloon until 12:30)

- at the festival of ice hes making a snowman and says “emily started helping me without any provocation … does that mean something? *gulp*” then emily says something like “wow this snowman needs a serious makeover … who made this?” which is just really funny 2 me

- during clints 3 heart event he says: “im a nice guy if you get 2 know me i swear!” ok classic incel line … after you give him advice on how 2 treat women he tries and fails 2 ask out emily and says “sigh im doomed” … youre DOOMED bc you cant ask out emily ??? this might be a reach but i dont think he should put his whole future happiness in the hands of 1 person

- clints 6 heart event: HES WATCHING EMILY FROM THE BUSHES. COOL WOW. hes waiting 4 emily 2 stop talking 2 caroline, but you convince him 2 go ask her out by threatening 2 stop upgrading your tools, so he does ask her out (but she obviously still thinks of him as a friend)

- emilys 8 heart event: so during this event emily is doing a clothing therapy thing at the mayors house (id loveee 2 rant abt mayor lewis also) when clint comes out in his outfit he chose she says “awww cute” and he doesnt like that (ig he wanted 2 be called sexy or something idk) so then emily expresses her romantic interest in you, then clint comes back in the house like “ahhh im 2 embarrassed 2 wear this outfit”. then, he sees you and emily and says “congrats *player name*” so he doesnt congratulate emily … ??? he really doesnt think of her as a friend in the slightest if he isnt happy 4 her or cares about her happiness if it doesnt have 2 do with him. its like he thinks of her as a prize 2 be won or something …

- at 8+ hearts with emily, she can say “i think clints mad at me, he doesnt look at me anymore … i always thought we were friends” so he just ignores her when he realizes she will never like him romantically ??? jesus christ dude

heres some stuff that doesnt have 2 do with emily:

- hes just generally gloomy and not fun 2 talk 2. like im sorry your family made you eb a blacksmith but its not really fun hearing you constantly complain abt how boring your life is

- at ginger island he can say “oh no … i forgot 2 clip my toenails” wow gross thanks clint

- at the dance of the moonlight jellies he says something like “i wore my special shoes tonight and no body noticed” nobody cares about your special shoes clint we’re all here 2 see the beautiful natural event that happens once a year sorry and also you dont talk 2 any body and have no friends besides emily and the farmer so who would notice anyway

- um ok so something that is kinda creepy is if you buy the telephone and call clint 2 ask when hes open something he can say is “hello? oh … *player name* … your voice sounds really nice over the phone …” then after telling you when he closes he SLAMS down the phone, probably embarrassed over what he said

- (THIS NEXT THING ONLY HAPPENS IF YOURE A GIRL FARMER BTW) so if you invite him 2 the movie theatre, in the lobby he said “oh .. a … are we on a date then?” NO ??? then during the movie he drinks from his flask so he gets drunk and he says “*whispers* … if youre um … tired … you can put your head on my … my shoulder. heh … or not!” NO THANKS IM GOOD. then after the movie he says “hey … that was kind of fun … right?” no not really. and if youre a male farmer he just complains the whole time and says the movie was alright.

tldr: clint is a gloomy, creepy incel with no friends who acts like emily is some prize that is the key 2 his happiness and completely ignores her and plays the victim card when she doesnt like him romantically. i can understand if he has social anxiety, especially since his family pushed him 2 be a blacksmith but i dont think its an excuse 4 how he treats women.

#stardew valley #im so sorry i know no body cares abt this but thank you 4 letting me rant abt him i rlly dont like this guy #ask

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theficplug · 3 years

Text

Swipe Right

Tyler Lepley x Black Reader

warnings : none, mostly fluff with just a tiny bit of smut if you can call it that at the end. i’m not too familiar with him but i tried ! to the cutie who requested, i hope you like it. alright enjoy x Face mask on. Wine in hand. Impulsive 10$ Dark and Lovely hair dye bought at the beauty supply store already slathered in your hair. It was your time set aside out of the week for you and your best friend to complain. Although homegirl was on the other end of the phone getting ready for anniversary and was not relating to your rant of the night.

“Girl, I’m telling y’all right now if I get another unsolicited dick pic in my dms or another “You got the bill right? I’m just a lil in between jobs right now you know how it is right baby”? I’m joining a nunnery because I love love, but me and my bank account can NOT keep getting played like this.” you rant to your friends over a video call as you walk around your apartment tending to the foils in your hair.

The series of failed dates and “talking stages” had left a sour taste in your mouth and put you off from dating altogether, but your best friend Layla is trying to convince you to give Tinder another go.

“I don’t know Lala. I just don’t have another talking stage in me. I’m grown in the words of the iconic Miss New York Tiffany Pollard : I want eggs CRACKED AND SCRAMBBBLLEEDD”

Layla’s husband Aaron’s laughter erupted from somewhere in the room on her end and you raise an eyebrow not knowing that he had been ear hustling the whole time.

“Just give a little more time. You never know what can be right around the corner! There has got to be at least a few foine men on Tinder. Give it one more try.” Layla encouraged before saying that she had to go because her man had the night planned for their anniversary dinner.

You huffed and sat the phone aside as you waited for the copper coloured hair dye to process your curiosity got the better of you and you reached for your phone again.

As you thumbed through the profiles of folks “looking for a beautiful girl for me and my husband (:” and “if you a feminist, pay for our first date”. You were two seconds away from putting your phone to the side again before you noticed “Tyler Lepley” and his profile.

You nearly spit out the cheap bottle of Stella Rose on your carpet in disbelief. “No, this has got to be a whole ass catfish. Why would his fine ass be on Tinder of all places? Let’s humour him. Wait but he’s verified... At the very least this should be funny as hell.” you say to yourself before rolling your eyes.

“Okay and I definitely got to make some single friends cause I’m really home on a Saturday night talking to myself. . . Whatever-”

You swipe right on his profile and almost instantly your phone notified you that there was a match.

‘Hey I just wanted to let you know I think you’re beautiful and if you’re ever in the area I’d like to take you out sometime. On me of course.’

“Oh he’s good.” you thought to yourself as you tried to think of a reply.

‘Sure, I’d love to. I’m actually driving up to Atlanta tomorrow for work. And if it’s really you. I want a Tika Sumpter autograph when we meet lol.’ you respond having a little fun with the troll at least before you log out for the evening.

‘Oh, so you don’t think it’s me? I ain’t nobody big. Just tryna find the right one to bring home for the holidays so my nosey aunties can stop asking me when I’m gon get a wife lol.’

*attachment (1)*

“Pfft.. Anybody could’ve gotten that from Instagram or something.” you said to yourself.

He’s good though. You’ll give him that much.

‘Okay tattoos and lips! You’re handsome or whatever.That’s understandable. I’m looking for the same thing but I must be looking in all the wrong places cause if i run into one more dud that’s looking for a unicorn for them and their wife to “share”. Whew- it’s a lot lol.’

‘I get you. I haven’t matched with too many women on here myself. They either tryna see how they can get a job at the studio or they want me to be their sugar daddy. Which I ain't got no problem wining and dining my women btw. I’m just not looking for that kinda situationship. If you don’t mind I’d like to video call you cause looking as good as you look. I'm just tryna make sure you’re not a catfish.”

Hold up. This was just supposed to be a little fun and now this man is using the video call function on Tinder and you’re still sitting there with the dye on your head.

‘Give me 25 minutes.’ you respond quickly before he replies with ‘take your time’.

The race was on as you began running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off as you wash out the dye quickly and inspect the colour. It was a really pretty natural ginger shade as you grab your hair diffuser and blow out your hair a little to dry it the best you could.

After grabbing your makeup bag , you slap on the winged liner, a little highlighter, mascara, and a dark brown lipstick like you were back in school trying to get ready before class.

You fluff and shake out your hair while looking at yourself in the mirror. With 5 minutes to spare you go to your closet and pull out a cozy warm brown cropped jumper that really stood out against your deep skin tone.

“Alright, please don’t waste my time.” you whisper to yourself as you press the video call button and wait for him to come onto the screen. After about a minute and no answer you let out a heavy sigh feeling a little embarrassed and like a fool for actually believing that The Universe was about to hook you up like that.

You put your phone on the table next to you and leaned back in the chair before hearing the notification go off again.

After going back and forth about it for a few seconds you hesitantly answered the call and had to contain the array of emotions you were going through when you saw him actually on the phone, smiling at you with those pretty ass white teeth.

You put the phone for a second before letting out a ‘thank you Jesus’.

“I should be saying the same thing about you! You are beautiful. God damn. When I first saw your profile I was like man aint no way. She gotta be some sort of catfish or something. I thought at the most it would be a funny cover story tomorrow on The Shade Room or something. ‘Tyler Lepley Catfished By Tinder Boo’. I apologize for not answering your call earlier. I just wrapped on set and I wanted to be able to hear you and give you my undivided attention. How are you this evening?” he says chuckling deeply and softly as he sits back in his trailer.

“I was thinking the same thing. I’m like at least it’ll humour me, but I wasn’t really expecting you to want to talk. How are you? I was completely kidding about the whole Tika Sumpter thing by the way.” You say giggling nervously before fussing about with the window to try and get better lighting.

“Oh really? Cause i got her to sign this shirt for you and everything. I can just do a giveaway with it or something else. I like your hair by the way...I’m doing good. It’s been a long day of pretending to get my ass kicked and running lines but I’m grateful to be in even better company with your pretty self. Even if it is through the screen for now. There’s something about a woman like you. I feel like I wanna know everything.” he compliments and flatters you and it’s taking your mind a while to process that this is not some extreme episode of Punk’d.

“YOU DID NOT! Of course I want the shirt. I was just fronting cause I didn’t wanna seem like that’s the only reason why I wanted to talk to you. Also, thank you. You just seem like someone who’s got his shit together and I really like that. At this stage in life people think I move too fast or that my standards are too high. I think it’s just because I know what I want. I want to be married, I want to be happy and comfortable. I eventually would really like to have kids. I want to have kids young so that I can have even more time loving them and my own little family..” you don’t like to waste time with the small talk. That’s nice too but you like to get straight to the point so that you’ll know if your views on life are aligned.

And just like that you two begin to connect instantly . You talked and talked for hours from the time he left his trailer to drive home and halfway into the night.

You actually ended up falling asleep on the phone with him because neither one of you wanted to hang up.

Scheduling conflicts prevented you from meeting up with him the next day but of course that didn’t stop either of you from constantly just wanting to hear from each other.

4 weeks later after non stop talking and sending pictures and videos of your day when you couldn’t talk to each other. Both of your schedules lined up perfectly and you ended up meeting in Atlanta.

You met him at a little cozy cafe and he held the prettiest bouquet of scarlet roses in one hand and a coffee for you in the other while standing with a huge smile etched across his face.

“Hey handsome” you say to him before leaning in to hug him but was not expecting the peck to the lips.

Even though you’ve discussed it and you’re both “if the vibe is right fun is not off the table” kind of people.

You kiss his soft plump lips back and thank him for the flowers. Of course given the part of the city that you were in, he was recognized almost immediately by the barista.

“My mama and auntie love your show.They both got me into it too. We thought they were gonna kill you off this season! I was scared for you. If you don't mind, can i have a picture?’ The woman named Ericka asks as she moves from behind the desk .

“Hey Ericka, thank you. I appreciate it, of course.” He replied warmly to her before looking over at you to double check if you’re okay with everything.

You awkwardly move to the side so that he can have his photo with the giggling fan already batting her eyelashes at him.

He softly grabs your hand to keep you close to him and shakes his head. He’s lowkey clingy in the cutest way as he moves you behind him so that you aren’t in the photo and wraps your arms around his waist before flashing a smile at the fans phone.

“Thank you so much and you are so pretty!” She says to you before trying to quickly hustle back to work in the quiet slow moving coffee shop.

“Me? Look at you and your pretty self ! I like your braids too!” You respond sweetly as Tyler beams with pride while watching you interact with the fan.

“Sorry about all of that” he leans down to whisper in your ear before walking with you out of the coffee shop.

“I don’t know about you but I ain't even gon’ lie I’m nervous as hell. I’ve been spending the last two weeks trying to figure out the best ways to spoil the hell outta you. I just think you’re incredible. From your story about all that you’ve been through to just like you. I ain’t ever had this before.” he admits and it throws you a little that he was the one nervous to meet you.

“Nervous to meet me? Tyler, you meet about 50 different beautiful women a day. I’m not saying I’m not the shit cause I am. But no need for nervousness here. I think you’re probably the most down to Earth famous person I’ve met dude. A lot of them are real snotty when I style them and stuff. Just completely out of touch…You’re always busy doing something and I’m always working on something. How about we just do nothing? What’s your favourite way to do nothing?” I get all of my favourite foods and snacks and then I just watch all of my comfort movies and shows and forget about everything going wrong with the world even if just for a little bit.” you admit and he nods along before opening the car door for you.

The entire car ride there wasn’t an awkward moment or any tension hanging in the air. The conversation flowed smoothly all the way from the supermarket to the restaurants for to-go plates, and to his home there.

There were plates of food of every kind of food you mention from pad thai to sushi, to indian food, mexican, and a plate of soul food cause you couldn’t visit Atlanta and not try some bomb ass soul food while you were there. Not to mention the snacks that you both also picked out.

He had convinced you that you two should build a blanket fort and he broke out the candles setting the perfect atmosphere for the storm settling in.

Something about the rain soothed you both as you fell over each laughing and talking about nothing and everything.

“Okay so let me ask you would have rather been on Fear Factor or Supermarket Sweep? Because this is important. I’d have to go with Supermarket Sweep because I’d rather bust my ass on tv than be in a crate full of cockroaches or something like that. I would freak the fuck out. They was wylin in 2001” you say and Tyler ponders the question for a minute before letting out a pfft..

“Easyyyyyy. I will drink the cockroach milkshake over playing on Supermarket sweep. I don’t mess with grocery stores like that. That’s why I order all my stuff online now. I've spent two many of my Saturdays missing Saturday morning cartoons walking around with my grandma and mama while me and my dad trail behind trying to get them to hurry up. Besides skydiving is on my list to do at some point.” he explains and you pretend to gag as he says that he’d take the shake.

“Good?” he asked with a little laugh as he noticed you had a whipped cream mustache from the caramel hot chocolate that he made for you.

“Mhm” was the only response he got from you in between swigs of possibly the best caramel hot chocolate you’ve ever had.

He leans in, licking it off of your lips before kissing you sweetly and gently tugging on your bottom lip as his tongue runs across it again.

“I bet you taste better though…” he says against your lips

His hands find your hips as he pulls you onto his lap.

You learned that he was talented at several things outside of acting and being inside out beautiful and a good 8- . Anyways, something you couldn’t tell your girls about on Monday.

Leaving him was too difficult two days later because you’re both those types of people where if you know , you know that you’ve found your person and both agreed to try and meet each other twice a week. Once for sure so that you try not to miss each other too much.

Maybe swiping right wasn’t so bad after all.

[unedited so if there’s a few typos i’m sorry i’ll edit them later! ]

#tyler lepley #the have and the have nots #fanfic for black girls #tyler lepley x reader #benny young

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dramaqueeenamby · 3 years

Text

Waves: The Read

A/N: I am a shady bitch, and I regret nothing. Also, if ya’ll remember, Mercedes is Summer’s publicist/manager. I mentioned that in a few waves, so don’t get confused, friends!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2K

Masterlist

TAGS: @notacamelthatsmywife @babe-im-bi @liquorlaughslove @letsshamelessqueen-m @missyperle @valkryienymph @tashawar @mani-lifes @missdforever @hello-therree @toni9 @queenshikongo3

"How many solos has my sister had?"

The room grew quiet, all eyes on the speaker. They’d just finished a number, or rather, Finn and Rachel had just finished a number. The rest of the students served more as props than singers. Ad-libs only constituted so much.

Mr. Schue’s smile dimmed. Slightly. "W—what?"

Alexus shrugged, motioning around the room. "Or any of the kids whose names aren’t Flipper or Rachel?"

"It’s Finn."

"I don’t care," she dismissed, eyes still on the instructor. "I’ve been here a whole week, and not once have I seen someone other than Cher and Sonny score solos."

Mr. Schue scoffed, crossing his arms. "Now, hold on a second, I treat all my students fairly. Any student is allowed to audition for a solo—"

"And how many who have auditioned actually received one, other than your prized pupils?"

Mercedes stood up. "Alexus—"

"No." Alexus lifted her hand and looked over at her sister. "This isn’t right, and you’re too kind and understanding to say anything, so I will."

"You’re out of line, Alexus."

She laughed, looking back at him. "Out of line? I’m not one of your little students, and you’re not going to shut me down like you do them. I’m going to say what I want and need to say, and then I’ll leave, but you’re going to catch this read, first."

"And, cut!"

Summer broke from character and offered Matthew a fake smile before turning away and catching Amber’s gaze. They shared an unspoken exchange, one that caused Amber to laugh after Summer rolled her eyes.

Summer didn’t know why she was so weary about accepting this role. Only 10% of it was acting, the rest was her actually reading the problematic cast members, which was all but a handful. But, to fulfill her petty side and get paid?

It was a double win.

Summer noticed Ryan was speaking with Lea, which ignited another eye roll. She was the guest star, not that Barbara Streisand wannabe. Still, Summer counted her blessings, because she could only take Ryan in small doses. He wasn’t as bad as his prized actress, but it was the fact that he allowed her to treat everyone like shit that made her think less of him.

Perhaps she was spoiled in the sense that every other director she’d had the privilege of working for would never tolerate such behavior. She had to accept that Hollywood was a game, and the rules changed constantly.

"Someone was having fun," Mercedes, Summer’s assistant chimed, coming to walk beside her.

Summer feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Mercedes smirked. "Yeah, right. You weren’t acting. You were giving them all a piece of your mind."

Summer retained her smile as they reached her trailer, Summer opening the door so Mercedes could enter first. "Are you trying to insinuate that I was using my job to tell these people how I really feel?"

"I surely was."

As soon as the door closed, Summer confessed. "You know me so well."

The two laughed. "Girl, you know Lea is probably complaining to Ryan right now."

Summer sucked her teeth. "You know she is." Walking over to the kitchenette area, she turned on the Keruig and opened the drawer to select a pod. Her hand ghosted between the caramel and the dark magic, before she settled for caramel. "That black bitch—"

Mercedes snickered. "You sound just like her."

Summer frowned as she insert the pod and selected 8oz. "God, you’re right. I have to have to get out of here."

Smiling, Mercedes swiped down to refresh her emails. "Hey, look at it this way, you keep up this level of performance, and you’re a shoe-in for that Primetime Emmy.

The idea of adding another award to her resume was more than enough to keep Summer focused and dedicated. As a dark skinned black woman, she had to work ten times harder just to remain 20 steps behind. Anything she could do to push herself, she cherished.

Summer added creamer and sugar to her coffee, blowing before taking a sip. "After this, I need a quick break."

Mercedes hummed. "Umm, about that—"

"No."

"Summer—"

"No, Cedes, I’ve been working back to back since I scored 4AM, I think I’ve earned a little vacation time."

"I don’t disagree." Mercedes raised her hands in surrender.

"Thank you," Summer nodded, taking another sip of her coffee.

"But—"

"Here you go."

"I’m just saying, I’m hearing rumors about a potential role that’s gonna start casting in a couple of months."

Summer rolled her eyes and brought the mug to her mouth. "And?"

"And." Mercedes also rolled her eyes. "It’d be perfect for you."

"Mmmhmm."

"Summer," Mercedes lowered her voice. "It’s Storm."

Summer narrowed her eyes. "Storm?" Mercedes nodded. "You don’t mean—"

"X-Men Storm? I surely do."

Summer gasped and covered her mouth. "Bitch!"

"I know!" Mercedes giggled, shushing her client. "So do you see why I want you to keep your options open?"

Summer downed the remainder of her coffee and washed her mug in the sink all the while still stuck on the information she’d been told. "Do you really think I could be Storm?"

"Summer, please, you won an Oscar for your first Hollywood role. You’re a shoe-in."

"What about Shipp?"

"Shipp can skip her ass off somewhere."

The two women laughed when a knock on the trailer door prompted Summer to walk over, opening and smiling when she saw Amber. "Hey girl, come on in."

"I wish." Amber rolled her eyes. "Lea’s ready to start filming again. I mean, Ryan is ready to start filming again."

"You’ve got to be kidding me." Summer checked the watch on her wrist. "It hasn’t even been twenty minutes."

Amber sighed. "You know the saying. She says jump. We say—"

"Trip, bitch."

Amber laughed, as Summer looked back at Mercedes, pointing a finger. "This conversation isn’t over."

Mercedes winked at Summer, the two actresses sauntering back onto set.

Summer wondered if Lea had been listening outside her trailer, because it seemed as if Ms. Michele was purposely antagonizing Summer. Any scenes they had together, Lea would abruptly call cut and give Summer "pointers," all the while Ryan sat in his chair and said nothing.

Summer, forever the professional, managed to keep her composure, but there was only so much she could take.

Finally, when it came time for Summer to film her final scene, she saw an opportunity.

"Alright, and action!"

"I just want you to know that despite your distasteful behavior toward me, I hold no animosity and hope that one day you can release your unwarranted rage, and we can be cordial once I’m on Broadway."

Alexus turned to Rachel and tilted her head, crossing her arms. "I don’t like you. Never have, never will."

Rachel’s smile faltered. "Well, I-I’m sorry you feel that way, but--."

"Let me explain something to you, Berry. This is Lima, Ohio. The biggest thing we have going for us here is Breadstix, a restaurant chain that’s been on it’s last leg since that lawsuit filed by the kid who got two breadsticks stuck up her nostrils."

"I’m much better now."

Alexus ignored Britany and continued. "So, I’ll give you this, this small town notoriety and fame, because I know and you know, that once you actually make it out into the real world, reality is going to slap you so hard, you won’t need to have a nose job."

"Alexus—"

"Your stardom is limited to this pathetic town and its almost entirely pathetic population. And don’t get me wrong, you’re very good at manipulating and controlling individuals, because you can. For now. But, let’s be real, your voice isn’t anything I haven’t heard coming from street singers in NYC. Face it, you don’t have the talent nor the looks to make it into this big star you think you’re going to be. NYADA?" Alexus laughed. "Maybe you’ll make it, I doubt it, and even if you do, once you realize how utterly mediocre your narcissistic ass truly is compared to real talent, you’ll come crying back to Lima and spend the rest of your life working nights at Breadstix while watching reruns of Funny Girl on a goodwill VHS player." A beat. "Now, how’s that for raining on your parade?"

"And, cut!"

——

PRESENT TIME

"Christopher, stop!" Summer laughed as Chris came from behind and lifted her up against his solid frame. "I’m trying to do my makeup."

"You don’t need it," he murmured into her neck. "It’s going to end up all over the pillows anyw—"

"Sir!"

"Autumn."

"Would you please leave me alone?" Summer managed to wiggle herself free from her husband, flipping him off when he slapped her ass. "I am a human being."

"Allegedly."

"Alleged—lemme stop before I end up going to jail." She leaned over and examined her skin, feeling for the tackiness to see if her primer had settled. "This is why I can never do my makeup right. If it’s not him, it’s the twins."

We wanna see the babies!

I don’t get it. Why is she always so mean to him???

^^^^You must be new around here…

What makeup do you use?

Summer caught the last comment and grabbed her foundation and concealer, flashing them on the camera. "You know I have to support my girl, Ri. It’s Fenty Beauty all day everyday over here, ya’ll."

More comments came rolling in, Summer partially paying attention while she tried to do her makeup. Chris was taking her out on a date, the first they’d been on since the birth of the twins.

Summer was actually excited. She was in much need of alone time with her husband.

She grabbed the Snap shadow and blending brush when she noticed majority of the comments kept mentioning Lea Michele.

She didn’t even attempt to hide her distaste. "Why are ya’ll asking me about that girl? Did something happen?" Different stories were coming in prompting Summer to do her own research. "Baby, can I see your phone?"

Without hesitation, Christopher jogged into the bathroom, grabbing onto Summer’s hips while she typed Lea’s name into google.

Five minutes into reading, Summer slammed his phone onto the counter.

"Finally!"

"You’re paying for that," Chris muttered, grabbing his phone, thankful that it wasn’t cracked.

"Sorry, baby." She leaned up and kissed his cheek before looking into her phone. "Ya’ll, okay, most of you should remember I played Mercedes sister, Alexus, on Glee, right?" A wave of "yes" rolled in. "So, I’ve worked with the bitch, and I am not exaggerating when I say bitch. That heifer is literally the worst person I have ever had the displeasure of working with."

Summer pushed Christopher out the bathroom, in case her adding onto the Lea Michele drag train somehow ended up bad. "Now, I’d heard she was a nightmare, but I like to give everyone the benefit of the doubt."

"But, literally the first time I walked onto set and introduced myself to her, she looked me up and down, turned up her nose, and walked away." Summer clapped and covered her mouth. "It took everything in me not to call her ass out, but it was my first day, and I didn’t want to cause a scene."

"Obviously, I was a recurring star on the show so I would make appearances throughout the series, and each time I was there, she treated me, and everyone around her, like trash."

"Okay, but here’s the real tea, you know that read Alexus gave Rachel in season 3? That wasn’t in the script." Summer laughed at the comments. Her fans were freaking out. "My line ended when I told her I didn’t like her or something, but it was my last day of filming, and I’d literally had enough of her."

Even more comments came rolling in of laughing, frog, and tea emojis. Summer sucked her teeth and placed her hand on her hip. "Ya’ll, her white ass thought she was gone’ be a thirty something Maria from West Side Story on broadway." A beat. "Somebody had to let her know!"

#chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth fanfiction #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth x black!reader #chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth x black!oc #fic: waves

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depths-of-your-soul · 4 years

Text

Just 'cuz

Pair: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

Genre: Slight angst, fluff

Summary: A group has let themselves into your life and within that group, there lie a guy who seem to treat you better than the rest.

Notes: I'm sorryyyyy!! I'm an angst lover and I like the sudden buildup that lets it seem more heartfelt ksksksk

Your life was worthless. You had nothing exceptional about you. You weren't pretty, smart or fun to be around. You didn't know how to talk to others, always getting scared just to look at others in the eye.

Simply living day by day for no reason, you wanted to completely disappear. You wanted to... But you couldn't. You loved your parents, the only people who you can talk to comfortably without getting judged. They were the only reason you still live on - to repay their sacrifices.

Often though, you would be pulled into a group whose warmth always seemed to radiate to you. There was rarely a time when you felt left out when you are with them, making you look forward to hanging out with them. You felt at home with them for some strange reason.

There was Mina, a very funny and cheerful person, you always looked up to how outstanding she is. He fluffy pink curles bouncing on tune with her glees and movements with her face beaming.

A kind sould called Sero was one who is less hectic than the rest was always there to encourage you to speak up whenever he saw that you have been quiet for a while. He always was there to help you tape anything when needed, a very generous person, so to say.

Next, there was Denki, a slightly perverted guy who still respects women more than a certain someone. He knows when his teasing and perversion was too much and would apologize when you get uncomfortable with his comment.

In addition, Eijirou is always very polite and is quite a gentleman, always talking about how manly he wishes to be. The person who would call out to you whenever he sees you alone with your thoughts, his kindness had always touched you.

Last but not least, the 'leader' of the group, Katsuki. He was often the type to not let anyone come near him very so often. Always complaining and getting angry and annoyed about everything, most people would be frightened by his presence, moving out of his way in fear of being glared at by him. He was like a walking volcano that can erupt at any moment.

One thing to note though, is that he would always tolerate you sitting cloae to him whenever there was little space to sit, especially in the cafeteria. He would often pull you to his side when you did not know where to stand while you can conversations.

Once, you were hanging out with them when you almost got hit by a person who was running only to be pulled close by Katsuki, telling you to be careful or else he kill you. In spite of his harsh words, you knew they were empty promises that was only worried for your safety. His tone towards you were always soft, gentle and filled with empty threats that would never come true.

His vermillion eyes would always lurk towards your direction, often locking into each others orbs before going back to chatting with others, fully knowing that he was still watching you. It might have seemed creepy and uncomfortable if it were other people, however his gaze would somehow give you a tinge of calmness.

This group would always make you feel loved, as though they wanted you to be there with them. Soon, the amount of times you felt un-need vanished. Your days became such adventures, new stories forming each and every single day you lurked around them.

To add to that, you also talked to Katsuki more, feeling blissful whenever he agreed with your opinion. Out of everyone in the group you were closer to Katsuki and Eijirou.

Eiji will always make you hyper through his overwhelming enthusiasm whereas Katsuki ensures your safety and tolerates your stupidity. You wishes for such endearing days to never end.

One day, you were out with Katsuki and Eijirou for a project. The three of you went to a park to conduct your experiment and investigation for your group work.

It was all fun and good, your investigation went smoother than expected, allowing your work to finish soon. Therefore, the three of you decided to go to a nearby mall while Katsuki gets forced to follow.

Going through shops was a lot of fun. The clothes, toys, items and decorations were all beautiful. You have never seen such a sight before you, your vision seemed to see sparkles at every item you see.

For the last stop of the day, you three entered a cafe at the far corner. It was designated at the far corner of the mall, its view was exhilirating. The sun would strike through the window, giving a calming atmosphere to it.

Eijirou went to the counter to order takeaway meals for the three of you, leaving you and Katsuki to sit down near the counter.

You sat down across Katsuki, admiring how his relaxed muscles move as he sat down. The sun hitting his face outlined his defined face, vermillion orbs showing sparkles that seemed like fire within.

Upon meeting his gaze, your face gleamed with approval at his raised eyebrow. The relaxed face and posture of Katsuki was something he only showed you.

His resting face, without and facade, was a sight that you loved witnessing. The already eye candy turns into such a mesmerising statue, beholding you one of the wonders of such a high quality product.

How you wish time would stop. To have a picture of his vulnerable state within your grasp. Was it too much to ask?

Your mere wish of time stopping was a jinx, a hex so to say.

In a blink of an eye, you found yourself being photographed. The flash of the camera and the snicker of the photographer bringing you down to earth.

Turning to see who it was, you were horrified to find your former 'friends' looking at you with disgust, whispering to themselves with coy smiles.

Your memories come gushing out of you. Dark times that you wished to never think of beholding themselves within your very eyes. The monsters that you wished to never come across has caught up, ready to eat you up again. Their snickers and comments bringing tears to your eyes.

"Oh? I didn't know you had guts to even talk"

"I see that you're still as gloomy as before."

"Will you ever change? What a waste of a life."

"Did you find someone who finds you useful again? Good for you~"

No. Stop. Don't say all of those infront of him. Let me off this one time, please. Spare them the troubles, I beg you.

Their words echoed in your mind like a bell constantly ringing. You couldn't move, not even an inch. Every muscle was tense and your heart beated as though you were nearing your last breath.

In spite of your circumstance, Katsuki was only staring at them, like a cheetah about to ambush its prey. Thinking that he would not make any move, you were proven wrong.

"What about you four?" he asked. "Aren't your personalities even worse?"

He was glaring at them with contempt, hatred in his eyes obvious to the naked eye.

"And who is this guy?" One of them ask, not assessing the situation.

He stood up.

They fell.

Silence.

You couldn't even see what happened before realising that they were on the ground, bruises covering them like rashes.

Eijirou who saw the whole thing as he was about to get to you guys quickly pulled the both of you out of the cafe, apologizing for making a comotion.

Processing what had just happened, Eijirou's nagging fell on deaf ears. Your eyes locked at Katsuki's infuriated expression.

As the three of you make your way back home, you wondered what would have happened if not for Katsuki. Would you have been humiliated to no end then and there? Would they have once again attacked you with their chain of words?

Pulling onto the hem of Katsuki's shirt, you asked him the question you've tried to hold back, "Why did you help me?"

His gaze fixed onto yours, pulling you into the depths of his ruby-red eyes.

"Just cuz'"

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franniebanana · 3 years

Text

CQL Rewatch - Episode 6

What I learned from this scene: Jiang Cheng is really picky about women and Wei Wuxian is perfectly happy being without a woman (as long as he has alcohol), and THAT parallels what Lan Wangji says later on that he’s fine being alone too. A little thing, but it shows that while Wei Wuxian talks big about all the cute women in Yunmeng, he has zero experience and isn’t really even interested in them. Jiang Cheng, on the other hand, IS interested, but is terrible at talking to them.

Call me crazy, but I don’t actually think Lan Wangji walked in there just to punish them for making noise/disturbing others. By the way this scene is acted, it seems like Lan Wangji is genuinely curious about what they’re up to, to the point where it almost feels like he wants to join in. Like he’s really taken what Lan Xichen has said about making friends to heart. And that all is super cute to me if that’s true. Like he hears the noises coming from their room (maybe he was already going there to see Wei Wuxian anyway!) and thinks, “Sounds like they’re having fun! Maybe I can join.” I don’t think it’s outside the realm of possibility for him to think that way, albeit probably hesitantly. And it’s not like he walks in with a dour expression, ready to throw the Gusu Lan Sect rules in their faces. It’s not until he sees the alcohol/Wei Wuxian asks him to drink with them that he pulls the rules card out.

Lol his look here. DON’T. TOUCH. ME. The phrase “if looks could kill” was made for people like Lan Wangji. He has nailed that glare. But like, how ballsy is Wei Wuxian to suggest drinking? He KNOWS Lan Wangji will not willingly break the rules, and if he doesn’t know, then he’s a dummy!

I love how quickly this whole thing unravels for Wei Wuxian. He thinks it’s so funny at first—stick Lan Wangji with a talisman, get him to do what you say—only he has no idea that Lan Wangji has absolutely zero tolerance for alcohol and his response is to immediately pass out. The sheer panic in Wei Wuxian’s face and voice is delightful to watch, honestly.

I’ve watched this scene so many times in the last week or so. I like it better in the special edition, since we get more wangxian and more drunk Lan Wangji—two things that I will always take more of. The part I like is that it shows how much Wei Wuxian commits and takes responsibility for his actions. He gets Lan Wangji drunk, so he spends half the night making sure Lan Wangji is okay. It’s a very sweet scene: the two open up to each other about their parents and it’s a very unifying moment for Wei Wuxian, finding out that Lan Wangji has suffered, just like him—that he is a human being with emotions, parents, that he’s experienced loss too. Wei Wuxian, up to this point, has dealt with his troubled past by clowning around and being generally optimistic, which is obviously not how Lan Wangji has handled his own past.

Lan Wangji probably remembers nothing of their conversation (or very little) but Wei Wuxian, who can hold his liquor a lot better, remembers all of it. It’s still fun watching them grow together, even after watching this so many times. Every time they experience something together, it just brings them closer. Really calls to mind themes of fate and destiny, though I like to believe that fate had nothing to do with them falling in love.

And here’s where Lan Wangji says he’s fine being alone, to which Wei Wuxian basically goes, “EH?!” in his mind, but instead calls him and his father boring. And then things get a little heavy, since Lan Wangji fully admits that he has no mother (in other words, his mother is dead). I assume (and Lan Xichen says later) that Lan Wangji would never have divulged this information while sober and it’s interesting that Wei Wuxian never lets on that he knows. It’s kind of a shame, really, that they never talk about it again. He only talks about it with Lan Xichen, but it would have been nice to see the two of them really talk about their parents.

In my mind, they slept in the same bed. Like, not that they did anything, because let’s be honest: they passed out. In my movie, Lan Wangji would have passed out again, and then Wei Wuxian would have put him in bed, and then passed out right next to him. It’s sort of strange that Wei Wuxian dragged himself across the room to sleep upright on the floor. He doesn’t seem like the type to do something like that, and why should he care if they share a bed? Especially given the fact that he’s also drunk.

It’s also super cute how Wei Wuxian is only like half-dressed (I say half, but it’s more like three quarters): his overdress is not pulled all the way on. His shock, then laughter here kind of indicates that he doesn’t remember much from the previous night, or maybe he forgot, and then remembered. The amusement is short-lived, though, since as soon as Lan Wangji wakes, up, he flips the fuck out and drags them all to get punished. I kind of wish we’d gotten to see that, although I do love the way they wove in the conversation between Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen.

His fucking face. He goes from, “Ah, Wei Wuxian, that rascal!” to “Wangji, WTF?!” I love that so much. And the thing that makes it funnier is that Xichen was the one to suggest that Wei Wuxian might be a good friend for his brother, and now it kind of ends up biting him in the ass, since he’s KIND OF a bad influence. Obviously, the next scene shows that this hasn’t really had a negative effect on Lan Wangji, since he is willing to accept punishment for something he had absolutely no control over, even when Wei Wuxian chastises him for doing so, and announces to Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen that, in fact, Lan Wangji was forced to drink the alcohol.

Which brings me to the punishment scene. I like this scene a lot too. I love Lan Wangji’s tenacity here, how he refuses to try and get out of the punishment even though he drank the alcohol against his will. I love how Wei Wuxian immediately comes to his defense to try and get Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen to stop the punishment for Lan Wangji. This is a good contrast to earlier scenes when Wei Wuxian would not admit to breaking the rules and was always trying to make an excuse for himself. Here he doesn’t do that at all. He fully admits to breaking the rules and to dragging Lan Wangji down with him. I know Lan Wangji is upset here, but I think he’s mostly upset with himself for allowing himself to break the rules (even though he really had no choice in the matter).

Another great Yunmeng siblings scene. Wei Wuxian complaining about being punished and Jiang Yanli just keeping it real: you shouldn’t have broken the rules. She’s such a good big sister, though, because while her speech has a touch of disapproval, she’s still very sympathetic to their injuries. I do feel like she’s a little harder on Jiang Cheng, because she knows he’s better than that and he has to be better than that if he’s going to be a clan leader someday. As usual, she’s softer with Wei Wuxian, who she just has an abundance of sympathy for. And I don’t see that as a bad quality at all—I think she and her father are willing to see past some of his behavior because overall he’s well-intentioned and, as is discussed later on, he’s not going to be clan leader. His job will be to support Jiang Cheng, not to run the place, and he’s a fierce friend and extremely loyal to the Jiang Clan.

But anyway, this scene is cute how both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng tell Jiang Yanli that they need more protein to heal and she should really add some lamb to the soup.

A few minutes ago, he could barely walk, and now he’s literally running down these steps. Maybe you don’t need that cold spring, after all.

RIP that other shoe that he originally kicked off right into the spring.

I love all of Lan Wangji’s expressions here and his responses to Wei Wuxian’s advances (I can only call them that, because he’s such a flirt here). You can totally read this scene that Wei Wuxian is just teasing and taking the piss with Lan Wangji, but I’m not going to, and I’m assuming, if you’re reading this, you aren’t either.

Wei Wuxian was delighted when he saw that Lan Wangji was also at the cold spring. He clearly went there for his wounds, but I think the wounds are all but completely forgotten as soon as he sees Lan Wangji.

I also love how shy Lan Wangji is, that as soon as he hears him coming, he immediately dresses again. He doesn’t leave, but he doesn’t want to be seen without his clothes on. That’s incredibly endearing to me that he is so modest. And then you have Wei Wuxian, who threatens to take off his clothes several times (although this is the only time he does it for reasons outside of teasing Lan Wangji). He does not care—he’s seemingly not modest about his appearance at all. I really do love all the contrast between these two characters—it’s not that they’re opposites of each other—it’s not that simple—but there is a lot of contrast which I think just keeps things interesting. I have nothing profound to say about it (or anything else, really), but I just find it really enjoyable to watch. And a side note, the contrast between Lan Wangji and Wang Yibo constantly leaves me in awe; it’s hard to believe that Yibo pulled off this character so well because he was such a goof on set.

Wwx: A lot of benefits come with being my friend.

Wwx: [immediately starts undressing]

I see what you did there, writers/directors.

But ironically, it turns out that a lot of not-so-beneficial things come from being his friend. Because Lan Wangji becomes so devoted to him, he ends up getting in a lot of trouble within his clan and without. Obviously he’d do it over and over if he had the choice, but the fact remains that Wei Wuxian becomes a pariah and, to a lesser extent, Lan Wangji was headed that way as well. Really, if Wei Wuxian hadn’t died, Lan Wangji might have ended up living with him in Yiling. That would have been quite interesting, actually.

I don’t care how many times I’ve seen this episode—this scene will kill me with its cuteness. Wei Wuxian so wants to be Lan Wangji’s friend here! He’s adorable! “Don’t leave me alone!” and “Come to Yunmeng, and I’ll pick lotus seeds for you!” and “There’s cute girls at Yunmeng!” Oh, wait, Lan Wangji doesn’t care about cute girls haha. I just love the change in the relationship. Wei Wuxian approves of and respects Lan Wangji and wants to be closer to him. It’s not just an interest or a fascination now—it’s something deeper. It’s the shared experience at Biling Lake, it’s the drunken confessions about their parents, it’s the 300 hits of the bastinado, and the secret cold spring pond where they can heal together.

Note how long it takes Lan Wangji to actually try to leave here. That’s telling enough on its own, how long Lan Wangji tolerates Wei Wuxian. He’s willing to put up with the jabbering and the endless chattering from Wei Wuxian. This is so much progress!

I have absolutely nothing to say here, other than that Yibo looks so fucking hot in this scene.

Because other than him and of course the headband, I find the stuff with Lan Yi to be kind of boring. I like her and all, but it’s just like, meh on all this Yin Iron stuff. I read about how this is just a big trope in cdrama, so it is what it is. Personally, I found the book to be compelling without all these shenanigans, but I understand that the written word doesn’t always translate well to the screen (especially when you are censoring the relationship between the two main characters).

Oh, and the rabbits are also fucking adorable. The more rabbits, the better.

Aaand now you’re married. Thanks, bye. Other episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

#wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #cql #the untamed #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #lan xichen #lan qiren #wwx #lwj #cql rewatch

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skullsandwineglasses · 3 years

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The Rebel Princess - Final Review (SPOILERS)

I tend to be quite critical right after I watch the finale of a drama since emotions are high, so my review might be a little harsh. My feelings might simmer over the next few days while I digest things, but for now, I’ll break down my impressions into 3 parts: The “Good”, The “Didn’t Make Sense”, and The “Could Have Been Better”.

The “Good”

The final scene. That’s the first immediate good thing that comes to mind. That’s probably the only good thing tbh. To be clear, these last 5 episodes weren’t bad. Everyone got their comeuppance, our leads live happily ever after, and Wang Su finally sees the light and goes against Daddy Wang by saving baby Jing’er. But, there were quite a number of things that frustrated me while watching.

I will note one other good thing, which is that we got to see our favourite OTP act out a show to misdirect the rebels in hiding and lure them out. We finally get to see our leads collaborating and putting their smarts together! But, this meant that they had to separate again for the millionth time in this drama. And even though it was just an act, the fake confrontation scene between them still stung. As a trashy romantic, I wish we got to see more scenes of them together, especially towards the end of the drama.

The “Didn’t Make Sense”

But because we finally get to see them work together, I wished we got to see more scenes with them plotting together. This is the first time that they’re working together to uncover a political plot, and yet it’s only relegated to one short conversation scene between them after Awu returns from meeting with her brother who refuses to tell her who’s behind the scenes pulling the ropes.

ALSO, the drama never really addressed how Xiao Qi kind of handwaved Zitan’s involvement in the Neem Yu Shan plot. How did Xiao Qi go from “I need to have vengeance for my betrayed fallen soldiers” to “I need to help uncover the plot against the crown”. It’s kind of implied that Awu might have already told Xiao Qi about the truth before Song Huaien does, but the drama never makes that clear because we never see that scene if there was one. If Xiao Qi learns about the truth from Song Huaien first, does he then talk about to Awu? Again, we don’t know because it’s never shown to us. Instead, right after we see him learn about it from Huaien, it then immediately cuts to the confrontation scene with Awu. BUT, since this confrontation scene was revealed to be planned by them, it means that they’ve already discussed the Zitan problem in private beforehand, and Xiao Qi already knows that Awu knows, but we never see this conversation. It’s also revealed that they’ve long been suspicious of Huaien, but when did this suspicion start? Again, we don’t see this conversation. We just have to guess.

This is just one example of how these last 5 episodes made it VERY obvious where scenes were deleted. A lot of scenes were cut abruptly where one scene would suddenly cut to the next, and you kind of had to infer what happened between those scenes. Things still made sense and you could still follow along, but you could tell that they cut out scenes that would have helped flesh things out and make the transitions smoother.

Villains: Nearly every villain in the drama (Jin’er, Zitan, and Song Huaien) turned back into their “good” old selves again during their downfall. And because of this, it made the finale of the drama pretty underwhelming. Jin’er expressed how she misses the old days to Awu and calls Awu one of the most important people in her life, Zitan sees the light and promises to yield the throne to his nephew and face punishment for his actions, and Song Huaien uses his last dying breath to ask Xiao Qi to take him back to Ning Shuo and how he doesn’t want to be in the capital anymore (when he literally has an arrow to the heart while sitting on the throne he just stole). These characters take an abrupt 180 degree turn when they’ve been blind with envy and hatred for most of the drama. Just moments ago they were shooting daggers out of their eyes, and then suddenly they regret everything they’ve done. Their downfall felt too easy, and their redemption felt even easier and unearned. And Awu forgives all of them (as expected). When she pitied Zitan, I was like, girl, he doesn’t deserve your pity. I get that she needs him to sober up in order to discourage the rebels, but still. He had his own brother killed and tried to have her husband killed. Instead she consoles him like a lost puppy. I know that Awu’s a saintly character, and I’ve talked about the virtues of her character before, but sometimes I wish she’d be a little less saintly.

I think Daddy Wang’s final scene fit most well with his character. He’s defeated, but doesn’t entirely express regret for his actions. Which makes sense for his character. He’s never doubted his decisions all throughout the drama, so why would he start now. Even when Awu asks him if he ever loved her mother, he doesn’t answer her. Instead, he deflects the question back to her to ask if she loves Xiao Qi or Zitan, which is such a laughable question. How is Zitan even still considered a potential love interest for Awu at this point? In response, Awu tells him “此愛非彼愛”. Which I’m still trying to interpret?? To directly translate it, it would translate to “this love is not (comparable to?) love”. I’m having trouble interpreting 非彼. 非彼 means “not comparable to”. Is Awu saying that this love isn’t comparable to another love? Is she saying that this love isn’t considered love? Love for whom? Is she taking about her love for Xiao Qi and how it’s not considered “love”. Does she mean what she feels for him is more than love, or different from love? Or, does she mean her past love for Zitan isn’t love? Why is her response so vague? Her dad asks her if she loves Xiao Qi or Zitan, and she instead gives him such a dense, poetic response. Maybe my mandarin isn’t up to par to translate these historical dialogues, so I’ll be curious to see how the subs translate this line. Anyway, in the end, Awu asks her father if he would agree to being buried next to her mother, and after ignoring the question for a bit, he finally says that he wants to be buried next to her.

The treatment of women: The Elder Princess and Yu Xiu both sacrificed themselves in hopes of getting their loved ones to stop rebelling. And then Awu pulls the same move with her father in order to remind him what her mother had done in hopes of stopping him. And this was after we see Hu Yao and Nanny Xu needlessly die in the previous episodes. So all these female deaths and sacrifices made it feel like the female characters in the drama are disposable and can be easily killed off by the writers. It just didn’t really sit well with me that on 3 instances in this drama, a female character tries to use herself as leverage against a male character who’s about to commit treason. I’m also still not over Hu Yao’s death at the hands of Song Huaien, and we never get to see a proper burial for her because she’s a minor character, so the drama couldn’t be bothered to show it. The Dowager Empress also had a very anticlimactic end. She was such a major player pre-episode 50, and then suddenly she was bedridden and only heard about palace news from her maid and wasn’t able to exert much influence over the court. It was a little disappointing that we don’t get to see her wield any of her old power again after episode 50.

The “Could Have Been Better”

This might be unpopular opinion but, I think Awu and Xiao Qi kind of lost their spark in the last couple of episodes, or at least, it’s more subtle now. Probably because the plot was focused on bigger things, which I understand. These are the final episodes after all. They’re also a long-married couple now, they don’t need to constantly reaffirm their love to us. And the final scene was sweet, so I shouldn’t be complaining, but I wish we got more scenes of them alone together. I said this in a reply on another post, but their sexual tension peaked during the early episodes of the drama. It’s too bad we don’t see that level of chemistry again.

Something that I found funny was how we see Awu stand next to Zitan by the throne twice to protect him. The setup was almost exactly the same between the two scenes where Awu stands to his right. It was like the writers couldn’t figure out a new configuration for how to block the scene. The first time was during the “pretend confrontation” with Xiao Qi, and the second time was against Huaien. I just felt the the repeat setup of this scene was kind of boring and uncreative to watch. It was like the writers couldn’t come up with another way to stage a potential rebellion, so we’ll just have Zitan be cornered around on the throne twice.

Also, Huaien wanting to suddenly take the throne and also Awu as his Empress? First of all, I don’t understand why people, who don’t have the approval of the masses, always want to become Emperor. Do they not realize that by forcibly seizing power, you’re going to lose it just as quickly because no one likes you and they’ll try to take you down? I have the same criticism for Daddy Wang and Zitan. But does Huaien think that he has enough military power to become Emperor? And unlike Daddy Wang, Huaien doesn’t have any significant political impact over the lords. Also, does he think that Xiao Qi would just never come back? Second, him asking Awu to become his wife? We don’t really see him feeling tortured over his affection for Awu again since his wedding with Yu Xiu, and now suddenly, years later, it’s revealed that he still yearns for her? And he declares his love right after stabbing her dad? I mean, writers, please. I know you want to create drama, but it has to make sense.

To be honest, I’ve always found Huaien’s character arc a little hard to believe. He’s such a noble character for the first third of the drama, and then it’s revealed that he’s always secretly harboured a greedy side. A side that craves status and recognition. He then downward spirals into this monster who kills nannies and female comrades and wants to be emperor. We see small hints of his desire for the throne, like when he eyes Daddy Wang’s tailor-made royal robes. But this desire is not fleshed out enough. Huaien’s arc could have worked, but because the drama didn’t focus enough on his internal struggle at the beginning since he isn’t the main character, the change felt abrupt. I don’t know how the book handled it, so I can’t speak to that.

Things just escalate so quickly in this drama. I can now see AvenueX’s criticisms about the political plot of this drama and how it looks like it could have be written by a 10 year old. The writers seem to want to make things as surprising as possible, while also using a lot of old tropes that it becomes predictable. It’s very unrealistic. And the villains’ motivations and ambitions seem limitless. It felt like anyone could lay claim to the throne.

The political scheming in this drama has never impressed me, so I suppose that I shouldn’t be surprised that these last few episodes were just as lukewarm. The problem with the political plot of this drama is that there were no smart characters except Daddy Wang. It’s just a bunch of drama queens(TM) who want power, but do a poor job of thinking things through.

The highlight of the drama was the romance, which was a huge surprise since I didn’t start watching this drama for the romance. And yet, despite the romance being the highlight, the OTP is constantly being separated, and we barely got to see them together in the last few episodes. And the scenes that they did have together in these last few episodes weren’t memorable. If anything, their chemistry kind of fell apart during these episodes because we barely see them communicate directly with each other.

Final Thoughts

Overall, I’d still recommend this drama just for the leads alone. You don’t see that kind of chemistry in idol dramas, and I don’t know when we’ll be able to see this level of acting between two well-matched actors in dramas again. Watching them is almost like a once-in-a-life-timeline thing. However, I think the average viewer might become frustrated with Awu halfway through. The drama’s also very bingeable (in fact it should be binged, instead of dragged on for almost 2 months). I think I would have enjoyed more if I watched all the episodes at once, instead of waiting for episodes as they came out every week, which meant that while waiting, I started to pick apart little issues that I had with the drama.

#monarch industry #the rebel princess #上阳赋 #cdrama #cdrama review #zhang ziyi #rant #cdrama impressions #i wish i could watch Awu and Xiao Qi fall in love again for the first time #sigh #i only watch like 3 dramas a year #so i guess imma be dramaless for the next 6 months

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maddie-grove · 2 years

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Little Book Review: Good in Bed

Author: Jennifer Weiner.

Publication Date: 2001.

Genre: Chick lit.

Premise: Cannie Shapiro, an entertainment journalist in late-1990s Philadelphia, is on a break from her slacker boyfriend Bruce--until she learns that he's written a column about their relationship for a women's magazine, in which he (a) refers to her as his ex and (b) reflects on the challenges of "Loving a Larger Woman." Devastated at his exploitation of her deepest insecurities (and furious that he's blamed the demise of their relationship entirely on her self-esteem issues, rather than his laziness or their sexual incompatibility), Cannie tries to move on. Complications abound, ranging from devastating tragedies to madcap capers.

Thoughts: I read two types of non-YA novels when I was still a kid. The first was thick, decades-spanning, literary-yet-popular books by younger Silent Generation/older Baby Boomer authors (i.e., John Irving, Pat Conroy, Margaret Atwood, and Amy Tan). The second was chick lit, a genre that now seems to have disappeared into contemporary romance and "women's fiction." In the early to mid-2000s, though, it was going strong, and, as far as I was concerned, Jennifer Weiner was its queen. I first read Good in Bed in sixth grade, and I was enchanted by its portrayal of adult life. (Both love interests left me cold, but that had more to do with the fact that I was eleven and my ideal man was Michael from The Princess Diaries movie.) I also found its takedown of fatphobia refreshing. At that point in my life, I'd already been "too chubby," "too skinny," and "normal," and I was already weirded out by the whole thing.

The book held up surprisingly well on reread, although certain things definitely hit me differently as an adult. The most significant one is the presentation of Cannie's mother, a late-in-life lesbian. She's a lovely character--funny, supportive if not always demonstrative, full of hard-won confidence after a life of compulsory heterosexuality and a brutal divorce--but Cannie's always pointing to her sexuality as an example of how "screwed up" her family is. I don't think this is meant to be homophobic, but it's like, girl, it was screwed up when your mom was stuck in straight hell. Now she's happy, and her partner is merely a finicky but good-natured over-sharer. A less minor issue is that Bruce seemed less worthy of scorn—not because he doesn't suck, but because Cannie is so out of his league that it feels kind of gratuitous when she blasts him for being a lazy, constantly high mama's boy. Only kind of, though; he really does blow. Finally, Bruce's new girlfriend should've been charged with aggravated assault, and it's weirdly glossed over for something with near-tragic consequences. I actually thought that was weird as a kid, though.

Those things aside, the book does a great job at balancing low-stakes, slice-of-life drama with heart-wrenching angst and wish-fulfillment scenarios. It's a testament to Weiner's talents that there's no tonal whiplash. Instead, the different elements combine into a sweet and wistful yet grounded story.

Hot Goodreads Take: Cannie is criticized both for not being fat enough (she's a tall, busty size 16, which admittedly is barely plus-sized, but, geez, it's not nothing) and for doing "nothing significant to control [her] weight but jump from a crash diet to another, never bothering to control [her] intake and make time to exercise" (which is directly contradicted by the narrative, and also maybe someone should tell this guy she's not fat enough). It's amazing how often this happens! If a woman is chubby or fat but below an arbitrary size and says fatphobia is bad, she's simultaneously not fat enough to complain and unreasonably demanding that everyone accept her "unhealthy lifestyle" while finding her sexually attractive.

On a lighter note, one reviewer says of Bruce: "He somehow becomes a love columnist for a major magazine, even though he always seems to be wearing sweatpants in public." I think it helps to picture him wearing Juicy Couture. He would've been ahead of the curve back then.

#little book review #good in bed #jennifer weiner #there's also some predictable complaints #about how cannie thinks mean thoughts about skinny people #i'd be more sympathetic if people didn't CONSTANTLY #and I mean CONSTANTLY #crash every piece of writing about fatphobia or fat positivity #with 'people are mean to skinny people too!'#i know but not everything's about you

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ussjellyfish · 3 years

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Felix’s birth story

So I never wrote this out after he was born, or last year, and this year, my little gentleman is 2, and it seems like the time to tell it.

So, Felix’s birth story under the cut. (unmedicated vaginal delivery, really almost boring).

Felix’s due date was January 14th, and he was born on January 14th. I went for a walk the night before, and it was cold, really cold (-25C ish), and really beautiful and icy.

After midnight I had contractions, and I don’t think I could have said what a contraction was before I had them, but when I had them, it was obvious. (so that was nice!)

And they didn’t hurt at first, they were kind of consuming and tight and I couldn’t sleep through them. I did try to sleep. I lay there in the dark and listened to Drastic Measures (Star Trek Discovery) on audiobook because I had that on my phone and it didn’t take any effort.

My cats came and slept on me and it was actually kind of nice (but weird, intimidating because at some point it was going to hurt and be more intense and I wasn’t quite ready and when do you actually go to the hospital (I didn’t want to go early and be bored).

My water broke at around 430am, and it was weirdly just like they tell you. A pop kind of and gush, like I’d suddenly peed my pants without feeling like peeing.

I got up, I took off my pajamas, I put towels on my bed and then I couldn’t sleep anymore. I hadn’t bothered to time anything, I hadn’t looked at my phone, and I remember leaning on his crib, dancing around a little because they were pretty tight and wondering if I should use the contraction timer (which I hadn’t even looked at but I did have on my phone).

So I did that for about half an hour and I remember staring at the times thinking “these are too close together, I should wait until they are further apart and then go” They’d said around 5 minutes apart, you could head in.

Mine were three minutes or less apart then, and they lasted almost a minute. They hurt, a little, like my whole belly was tightening up and almost bouncing down? Very weird. Truly a unique experience.

So I woke up my mom after 5 and told her to walk the dog. She was staying with me with her rather annoying dog and my mom’s rather annoying so I wasn’t thrilled. We already had the car seat in the car and I had a bag (which included my star trek robe, always a good choice).

Mom was kind of skeptical, I guess because I wasn’t in that much pain. It did hurt, now, like the worst menstrual cramps I’d ever had and kind of bigger (I suppose my uterus was a lot bigger). It was cold and my mom was complaining about my car (I needed the brakes fixed) and we listened to classical music on the radio because she was grumpy.

It was after 6 when we got to the hospital, and we walked in and I remember in the parking lot was the first contraction I couldn’t walk through. I just stood there because it really hurt and if I was still, it was fine. And then you fill out paperwork and they offered me a wheelchair, which I didn’t want. Then they send me into a room to get checked and I took my clothes off and I was so wet, fluid was leaking and it just keep leaking and I was sweaty and they put a monitor on me and made me sit on the bed

Which sucked. Holding still sucked, sitting sucked and then they did an internal exam which was really uncomfortable and one of the women from my labor class had been sent home because she wasn’t in labor enough, and I was worried, because going home sounded so annoying.

I was at 8 centimeters, so I did not have to go home and the stupid monitor said Felix was fine. (stupid monitor). So we walked to the delivery room, which had purple lights, and I wanted to take a bath SO much and they wouldn’t let me because of the monitor. (my monitor hatred is strong).

My doula came, and she was awesome awesome. I hadn’t met her before and I didn’t get the one I thought I’d have because I was apparently so close they sent the faster one who lived closer. We changed positions a lot and wandered around and I remember basically peeing on the floor because I didn’t have to pee that much and they also weren’t that keen on mme going to the toilet. I don’t know why. They just put towels on the floor and it was fine.

My doctor was a 2nd year resident, and we were his second continuity of care delivery (where he’d been my prenatal too). He’s very sweet and enthusiastic. The teaching doc we got is this very calm Asian woman with small hands and really pretty hair. She came in around 8 because then I could push.

They made me lie down, which was annoying. They were worried about Felix being too big because I had gestational diabetes (mild and a huge point of contention because they just made everything hell).

I had to hold my legs and pushing is just the strangest movement because it’s muscles you usually don’t use. The light was bright over the bed and I did swear a few times, or yell, because it hurt and it was more just...frustrating and exhausting because it hurt and then it would still hurt and I did the right things but he would get closer and then go back.

I remember them wanting me to push with every contraction and there was one where I just took a break. Screw you guys.

I never really felt the bearing down they talk about. I thought I’d hit somewhere when I wanted to push and I didn’t. My hand hurt because the stupid IV was doing something. I had to hold on to my legs and that was annoying.

They decided they needed to do an episiotomy, and I’m still kind of bitter about this because we didn’t try changing positions (my doula did ask I was just not in the position to argue or advocate).

That part is really strange. I didn’t have any fight. I was tired, sure, but I was really agreeable. I’m told this is hormones too.

The umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck and kind of short, so I’d push him down and it would pull him back up. So they numbed me up (getting the needles in for that hurt) and my teaching doc did the cutting and then I pushed once and he just fell out.

He was just there, and damn, not being pregnant anymore feels really great. Kind of empty, but you’re so bendy-flexible- not under any tension anymore. It’s great.

And the placenta was nothing. It just kind of squelched out. It did look cool.

He had chubby arms and a chubby face and he was totally fine. I held him for a bit, he was not interested in eating, so they weighed him and gave him a hat and a heel poke and they stiched up the episiotomy.

That hurt, and my student doc was doing the stitches and he went outside the anesthetic for a few stitches and damn. I remember saying fuck a few times. I also got to get up to pee and I had one nurse called Katie who had been there and two more had come in at the end and they didn’t want to let me up, but I stood up just fine.

My nurse Katie said I hadn’t had an epidural and I think that was rather rare because they were surprised I could just walk.

And I was tired, like I’d been running or swimming or climbing, something really full body exhausting, but it didn’t hurt really.

We moved to the other room and Felix and I watched CNN and eventually we worked out how to get the boob in his mouth (more of it than I thought had to go in there).

and it was really boring. My mom stayed and my dad came and...it was still boring. Felix was very cute and cuddly and he wanted boob and snuggles and I remember changing his diapers and holding him (those funny sticky black new baby diapers) and he just wanted to be held all the time, and we atched pointless television because they won’t just let you go home.

I got ibuprofen and paracetemol and pancakes. I had pancakes right after he was born because I was so hungry.

And chocolate pudding and they were terrible pancakes but, I was hungry.

They made me pee in a weird upside down hat thing that went on the toilet a few times and then they left me alone.

It was very alone. I remember holding him in the bath in his blanket because I wanted a bath but I didn’t want him to get lonely and cry so I couldn’t grab him.

I was so sleep deprived and they don’t want you hold him in bed and fall asleep so he went down and back and down and back and I did eventually just give up and hold him and sleep.

He was also a perfect size. We went home the next day, which was too long in the hospital, especially after I got released at 1pm and he didn’t get out until 7pm because he was a little yellow. (he bounced back fine, but was a little yellow at first)

Then we went home, and watched Discovery and the Witcher and Korean zombie dramas and I ate so much chocolate peanut butter pretzels. My Doula came to visit, and we talked and I remember thinking kind of in a shellshocked way that I was really annoyed they made me push on my back and I couldn’t do anything about it.

It’s actually not a good position! It goes against the spine and I had my feet in stirrups and I had a nasty bruise on my hand from my IV (that I also didn’t need, they just ran saline the whole time) and my pinkie finger was all tingly (that took weeks to get back to normal).

And all the “you just had a baby” advice is totally crap if you’re single. Let someone else...do the dishes cook for you do...

No, you do ALL the things and baby, and change diapers in the middle of the night and feed them (constantly, it’s so constant).

And take the kiddo to get his blood checked when it’s -35C outside. (poor little guy, he was fine, didn’t even need the light jacket). And get weighed (he was getting plenty of milk and chubbed up fast).

But newborns have no personality. (in my opinion They don’t even really ‘like’ you. You feed them and you make them comfortable and they sleep, and sleep, and snuggle.

Star Trek got me through a lot those first couple months until he was big enough to know I was there (like actually know me)

#birth story #funny how I've wanted to write this for 2 years and did finally #hospital birth #personal

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oneweekoneband · 3 years

Video

youtube

I’m slightly nauseous already with knowing I’m going to say this, but what does “self-awareness” even mean? In modern parlance, as a descriptive phrase, as a comment on art? I’m asking in earnest, like, I’ve been Googling lately, which for me is basically on par with doctoral study in terms of academic rigor. The self is king, anyway, tyrant, so where is the line of distinction between material that intentionally is nodding at some truth about the artist’s life and what’s just, like, all the rest of the regular navel-gazing bullshit. I mean, I’m all self, I am guilty here. I can’t get it out of my poems or even make it more quiet. This is the tenth time I’ve invoked “I” in the space of six sentences. Processing art has always necessitated a certain amount of grappling with the creator, but the busywork of it lately grows more and more tedious. Joy drains out of my body parsing marks left behind not just in stylistic tendencies and themes, but in literal, intentional tags like graffiti on a water tower. This feels an age old and moth-holed complaint, dull, and I am no historian, or really a serious thinker of any kind. I’ve now complained at some length about self-referential art, but didn’t I love how Martin Scorsese nodded to the famous Goodfellas Copacabana tracking shot with the opening frames of last year’s The Irishman? Didn’t I find that terribly fun and sort of sweet? So there’s distinctions. I’m only saying I don’t know with certainty what they even are. I’m unreliable, and someone smarter than me has likely already solved my quandary about why self-knowledge often transforms into overly precious self-reflexivity in such a way that the knowledge is diminished and obscured, leaving only cutesy Easter eggs behind. Postmodernism has birthed a moralizing culture where art exists to be termed either “self-aware Good” or “self-aware Bad”. Self-referentiality in media is so commonplace, so much the standard, that what was once credited as metatextual inventiveness often feels lazy now. In 1996, Scream was revitalizing a genre. Today, two thirds of all horror movies spend half their running time making sure that you know that they know they’re a horror movie, which is fine, I guess, except sometimes you just wanna watch someone get butchered with an axe in peace.

This is all to say that in 2020 Taylor Swift looked long and hard upon her image in the reflecting pool of her heart and has written yet another song about Gone Girl.

“mirrorball” is a very good piece of Gone Girl —feels insane to tell anyone reading a post on a blog what Gone Girl is but, you know, the extremely popular 2012 novel about a woman who pretends to have been murdered and frames her husband for it, and subsequently the 2014 film adaption where you kinda see Ben Affleck’s dick for a second—fanfiction. It would be a fine song, a good song, really, even if it weren’t that, if it were just something normal and not unhinged written by a chill person who behaves in a regular way, but we need to acknowledge the facts for what they are. When Taylor Swift watched Rosamund Pike toss her freshly self-bobbed hair out of her face and hiss, “You think you’d be happy with some nice Midwestern girl? No way, baby. I’m it!” her brain lit up like a Christmas tree, and she’s never been the same. If you Google “taylor swift gone girl” there waiting for you will be a medium sized lake’s worth of articles speculating about how Gone Girl influenced and is referenced in past Swift singles “Blank Space” and “Look What You Made Me Do”. This is not new behavior, and if anything it’s getting a bit troubling to think that it’s been this long since Taylor’s read another book. Still, while the prior offerings were a fair attempt at this particular feat of depravity, “mirrorball” has brought Taylor’s Amy Elliott Dunne deification to stunning new heights. And most importantly, Taylor has done a service to every person alive with more than six brain cells and a Internet connection by putting an end to the “Cool Girl” discourse once and for all. By the power invested in “mirrorball”, it is hereby decreed that the Cool Girl speech from Gone Girl is neither feminist or antifeminist, not ironic nor aspirational. No. It’s something much better than all that. It’s a threat. I ! Can ! Change ! Everything ! About ! Me ! To ! Fit ! In !

Gone Girl (2012) by Gillian Flynn

“mirrorball” (2020) by Taylor Swift

When the twinkly musical stylings of Jack Antonoff, a man I distinctly distrust, but for no one specific reason, whirl to life at the beginning of this song I feel instantly entranced, blurry-brained and pleasure-pickled like an infant beneath a light-up crib mobile or, I guess, myself in the old times, the outside times, three tequila sodas deep under the disco lights at The Short Stop. Under a mirrorball in my head. I know very little about music, as a craft, and I really don’t care to know more. I’m happy in a world of pure, dumb sensation. I’m not even sure what kind of instruments are making these jangly little sounds. I just like it. I am vibing. We may not ever be able to behave badly in a club again, but I can sway to my stupid Taylor Swift-and-the-brother-of-the-lady-who-makes-like-those-sweatshirts-with-little-sayings-or-like-vulvas-which-famous-white-women-wear-on-instagram-you-know-what-I-mean song, pressing up onto my tiptoes on the linoleum tile of our kitchen floor and can feel for a second or two something approaching bliss. “mirrorball” is a lush sound bath that I like a lot and then also it’s about being all things to all people, chameleoning at a second’s notice, doing Oscar worthy work on every Zoom call, performing the you who is good, performing the you who is funny, performing the you who draws a liter of your own blood and throws it around the kitchen then cleans it up badly all to get your husband sent to jail for sleeping with a college student... Too much talk about making and unmaking of the self is way too, like, 2012 Tumblr for me now, and I start hearing the word “praxis” ring threateningly in my head, but I’m not yet so evolved that I don’t feel a pull. Musings on the disorganized self—on how we are new all the time, and not just because of all the fresh skin coming up under the dead, personhood in the end so frighteningly flexible—are always going to compel me, I’m afraid, but that goes double for musings on the disorganized self which posit that Taylor Swift still thinks Amy Dunne made some points.

Because on “mirrorball” Taylor is for once not hamfistedly addressing some “hater”, in the quiet and the lack of embarrassing martyrdom it actually offers an interesting answer to the complaint that Taylor is insufficiently self-aware. This criticism emerges often in tandem with claiming to have discovered some crack in the chassis of Swift’s public self, revealing the sweetness to be insincere. My instinct is to dismiss this more or less out of hand as just a mutation of the school of thought that presumes all work by women must be autobiography. And, regardless, it is made altogether laughable by the fact that anyone actually paying attention has known since at least Speak Now, a delightful record populated by the most appalling, horrible characters imaginable, and all of them written by a twenty year old Taylor Swift, that this woman is a pure weirdo. To accuse Taylor Swift of lacking in self-awareness is a reductive misunderstanding, I think, of artifice. Being a fake bitch takes work. Which is to say, if we agree that her public self is a calculated performance—eliding the fact that all public selves are a performance to avoid getting too in the weeds yadda yadda— why, then, should it be presumed that performance is rooted in ignorance? Would it not make more sense that, in fact, someone able to contort themselves so ably into various shapes for public consumption would have a certain understanding of the basic materials they’re working with and concealing? Taylor Swift, in a decade and a half of fame, has presented herself from inside a number of distinct packages. The gangly teenager draped in long curls like climbing wisteria who wrote lyrics down her arms in glitter paint gave way to red lipstick, a Diet Coke campaign, and bad dancing at awards shows. There was the period where she was surrounded constantly by a gaggle of models, then suddenly wasn’t anymore, and that rough interlude with the bleached hair. The whole Polaroid thing. Last year she boldly revealed she’s a democrat. Now it’s the end of the world and she’s got frizzy bangs and flannels and muted little piano songs. Perhaps this endless shape-shifting contradicts or undermines, for some, the pose of tender authenticity which has remained static through each phase, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t been doing it all on purpose the entire time. I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try...

In the Disney+ documentary—which, in order to watch, I had to grudgingly give the vile mouse seven dollars, because the login information that I’d begged off of my little sister didn’t work and I was too embarrassed to bring it up a second time—Taylor referred to “mirrorball” as the first time on the album where she explicitly addressed the pandemic, referring to the lyrics that start, “And they called off the circus, Burned the disco down,” and end with “I’m still on that tightrope, I’m still trying everything to get you laughing at me,” which actually did made me laugh, feeling sort of warmly foolish and a little fond, because it never would have occurred to me that she was trying to be literal there. I suppose we really do all contain multitudes. Hate that.

#taylor swift #folklore

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diaryofasupergroupie · 4 years

Text

Diverse Groupie Skills

With the risk of stepping out of my own lane through my 10 plus (!) years being in the groupie scene there are skills I have honed that have crossed over into my real dating life. There are many things I have learned which I use in my life at work, school and in friendships but I’m not talking about those right now. This is purely my romantic and sexual relationships with men and believe me there have been a fair few.

I am a groupie. I always will be a groupie. But there are things I have learned throughout my time that are what I like to call transferable skills. People say after a counselling degree you can go into a whole lot of sectors. After all my time studying I like to think I have developed the skills to be at peace in all kinds of situations with men from all walks of life. I get a lot of questions about how to specifically talk to musicians and people of certain genres and I always respond that you should talk to them like normal people. That isn’t technically true, in my mind it is true and you should talk to them like you would other people. But as someone who has been manipulating the way men and people who don’t have normal jobs since I was 14 it is hard to separate that from what others may deem a normal conversation.

The word manipulation may startle you and I don’t want you to be put off. As people we manipulate others all the time to get what we want. So over the years what have I wanted? To be allowed to go to these parties, concerts and press events and not be kicked out. To be asked to go on tour with people off limits to a lot of people. To have entire relationships with men in the industry. How did I get any of those things? I used techniques and skills I had learned and honed in order to get what I wanted. There are different ways to do this and there are some helpful blogs I will mention later but I have my own style. I am a huge charmer and I let men live in their fantasy. I don’t mean that in a dirty way. I let men talk to me and make them feel like they are listened and cared for. I change my behaviour in order to alter their mood. I make them feel bad or guilty in order to be invited places. This is all manipulation in order to get what I want. Being a groupie in itself has given me these skills but along with my degree in counselling and foray into stripping and my very brief time being a sugar baby I have learned a ton on how to bring a desired outcome.

These are also things which are incredibly universal and work across all walks of life. I have learned other skills such as holding a conversation, being polite and well mannered, having the ability to change the atmosphere in a room as well as someone’s emotions, being resilient, tough skinned and adaptable among other things. The way you charm someone can be changed in order to fit your circumstances and environment. Just as you would change your outfit to fit in at a indie gig and metal gig or a press day and award show you have to be able to adapt. I always say if you want to communicate with a specific person then research them as best as you can to have topics which interest them to talk about and change yourself in order to suit what is going on around you. If you are interested in musicians then you have to adapt to attract them and put yourself in places where they are such as concerts and parties. If you want to attract models or actors then wondering around a small town where the entertainment industry is non-existent probably won’t do you any favours, but if you were to place yourself in certain neighbourhoods in London, LA or New York it becomes possible. People ask why musicians and actors go for models and it is because they are often in the same places. There are of course exceptions to the rule but if you never leave England the chances of you meeting an English man is a lot more likely than you meeting an American one (unless of course you are me in which case you can find one and fall in love with him even if he’s 100 miles away). If you want to attract a man who is wealthy then you need to put yourself in areas you may meet that kind of person.

It is all about reading who you are interested in, finding what they want and what is missing from their life and providing it. That is just my style of course but I find it has worked well. If you have someone who wants to relive their youth and has got out of a relationship with someone who only wanted to stay home then showing you love being social and having a good time is probably a good place to start. Reading people is a skill you have to develop but with practice becomes second nature. If they complain their ex would always refuse to compromise what does that mean? Possibly that they loved how stubborn they were when they first started dating. The things which draw people in are often the things they have come to hate years later. Look for clues everywhere.

To use a man I’m dating right now as an example - he is an actor, older than me, divorced with kids and has a lot of anxiety when it comes to talking to women and low confidence. What does a man like this want? They want someone to listen to them, to make them feel desired, ease their worries and convince them that someone who is younger could ever find them desirable. Side note he is funny without meaning to be, cute in a awkward and nerdy way and very sweet. Being forceful and constantly wanting to get drunk and party is not how you approach someone like that because their anxiety would probably kill them. Judge it all and read people, it tells you all you need to know.

There are people that meet the love of their lives while doing the grocery shop and that’s great but isn’t for some people. If you read my blog you’re most likely interested in hearing about the men I’ve surrounded myself with or you want to do the same. It’s about wanting something and going for it whether that thing be experience, travel, culture or money. If you don’t believe in this then by all means do your own thing but what I don’t allow is any person shaming anyone because of what they choose to do providing it isn’t hurting themselves or others. Personally I know from dating people from all walks of life, of all jobs, incomes, belief systems etc what as a woman who is getting older would want in order to be happy with a relationship. Being financially stable and not having to worry about affording a house is very important to me as is being able to have nice things and being with someone who can give me that. As it happens I also like men who are creative and in the spotlight while being firmly out of it. If that’s you then don’t be ashamed of it and own your shit. If this is what you want then go get it because there are so many others that will do it if you don’t.

This is very different for me and I don’t talk about non-groupie things often although I suppose this is technically a groupie thing. I hope someone took something from it and please if you have any questions or posts you want to see let me know! I’m sending everyone love and I hope everyone is keeping safe xoxo - K

#diary of a super groupie #groupie #bands #diary #modern groupie #band aid #entertainment #music industry #dating #groupie dating #groupie 101 #advice

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quidfree · 3 years

Note

For prompts: any OCs, maybe something like fake relationship? Sorry if you don’t have OCs I’m curiois

i have so many ocs for my original projects that narrowing it down for this was a nightmare buuut here we are anyhow- something v short and dumb

“i just don’t see why van and viv couldn’t have done this,” joa says for about the thousandth time when they get there, aware that he’s been stuck on this refrain since two weeks ago and that his partner is near his boiling point but entirely unable to stop complaining. it’s like something in him thinks if he just points it out one more time someone will take notice and put an end to it.

“van and vivienne could have done this,” ezra says, in the voice he uses when he thinks he’s being extremely patient and long-suffering. “but this was your mission, and if you would have preferred to be here with fucking corlett it is not too late for me to trade places.”

“dude,” joa says. ezra shoots him a look.

“you can’t call me dude. we’re madly in love, if you’ll recollect.”

ezra is funny like that; the pissier he gets the more clipped his vowels get, like those rich new england types that had sometimes swung through california on holidays, all east coast condescension. privately joa thinks ezra has more in common with that crowd than he’d care to admit.

“dude, even if we were really-” he waves his hand vaguely “-i’d still call you dude.”

“you call your girlfriends dude?” ezra inquires, shrewdly.

“thought the whole point was the not being a girl thing.”

“corlett,” ezra threatens, so he shuts up. normally ezra wouldn’t do that to him, or at least would never concede defeat, but when ezra’s really angry there’s no scruples to his revenge plans. as much as he feels ready to drink himself sick with nerves and discomfort at the two of them crashing this stupid wedding, having corlett on his arm instead would ensure he died of liver failure before the bride even hit the aisle.

he doesn’t like how antsy this has made him. ezra doesn’t say it but it’s obvious he thinks joa takes some issue with the gay thing, which isn’t true- he’s normally the most adaptable of them to whatever era they get stuck into; he was the first to know about van, and that’s a whole different ballpark. it’s not the couple he cares about, it’s the acting.

all the lying, sneaking bits of the job- subterfuge, vivi would say- he gets it, but he doesn’t like it. even when it’s shit he knows, is good at, like charming strangers or blending into groups, he feels bad for the people he involves. he knows it’s stupid- it’s not like he’s usually hurting anyone, and the whole point is that they’re helping. van finds the whole exercise fun, and vivienne thrives in it; even ezra, who never does anything but play himself, commits to the bit unflinchingly. he’s the only one who gets nauseous each time they make him do some extended charade. he doesn’t know why they couldn’t just go around killing people without lying about it to boot.

normally ezra knows this kind of thing about him, but if ezra has one fault it’s that thing about missing the forest for the trees. when he’s prickly about something he loses his usual invasive-cum-insightful observational skills. that this particular bout of acting is making him more nauseous than usual is neither here nor there.

despite what viv claims, joa is not entirely convinced that ezra can’t read minds, because just as he thinks this, his hand is grabbed with all of the affection of a snake winding around his arm to cut his circulation off.

“c’mon, suck it up.”

he only just manages to turn his wince into a half-assed grimace, which earns him a foul look.

“i can’t feel my hand.”

“shut up and look like you love me, bride number one is heading this way.”

she is, inexplicably, looking delectable in a pearly white gown, blonde hair piled in curls atop her head. once their presence registers she smiles at them distractedly, eyes scanning them without recognition. it kicks him into work-mode, smile blooming wide and familiar as he extricates his hand from ezra’s to clasp hers.

“miriam! i’m joa, elena’s cousin- tia grassi’s son? and this is my partner ezra. it’s so nice to meet you, you look beautiful.”

“oh, joa, of course,” miriam says, warmly, relaxing as she gestures them in. “it’s a pleasure to meet you too.”

“i’m surprised they have you manning the door,” ezra comments, gesturing to the entrance they’re stood under. “thought that was what the guys in suits were for.”

“sure, sure,” miriam laughs, self-effacingly. “i’m not really playing valet. it’s just we’ve been waiting on the last cake delivery and i’m trying to get the guy through to the back before anyone accidentally tells elena. she’s convinced something’s going to go wrong.”

“sounds familiar,” joa says, with a knowing smile towards ezra, who just about curbs his eyeroll. “also sounds like something you shouldn’t be worrying about on your wedding day. where should we direct him?”

miriam’s brows raise in surprise; he tries to broadcast sincere helpfulness her way.

“oh- really? you’d do that?”

“of course. i know how elena gets.”

this sells it; she sighs a little in relief, shakes her head. “you’re a savior. the hall, through the back- it’s just down the ramp and to the left. are you sure?”

“what’s family for?”

only once she’s out of earshot does ezra shoot him a look, eyebrows quirked with amusement.

“what’s family for?”

“fuck you, it worked.”

“your customer service act gives me the hives,” ezra says, although he’s smiling even as he reclaims his hand in an only marginally less painful grip. joa’s stomach re-knots itself.

for all that he hates the lying the job involves, there’s something especially discomfiting about roles like these- ones where they keep their names intact, where the stories they construct keep big chunks of their lives unaltered. to the wedding guests they’re still joa and ezra, longtime friends and constantly travelling free-lancers; they may not be time-travellers and there may be some additional intimacy implied, but this joa and ezra have the same back and forth, the same inside jokes, the same dynamic. it makes the lines even blurrier and the lies even more uncomfortable.

“you look like you’re about to hurl.”

“maybe i am.”

“you’re not. you’re a consummate professional and there’s an agency supervising us and also if you do i’m throwing your mini-fridge out of a window.”

“you wouldn’t like me sober.”

“you wouldn’t like anything sober. i’d tough it out.”

“remind me not to ask you to host my bachelor party.”

“i hate weddings,” ezra says, sourly. joa grins, heartened by his bad mood. viv calls them bad friends for always cheering up at each other’s misery. van calls them disgusting.

“hey, c’mon. this might be fun.”

“oh, sure. i love spending an entire evening pretending to care about two strangers’ impending divorce.”

“oh, c’mon. what about your moms?”

“they’re divorce lawyers. they’re outliers.”

"okay,” joa draws out, just to make him scoff. “themed missions, though. exploding wedding cake? that’s fun.”

“it’s also one of fifteen assassination attempts we’re handling tonight.”

“glass half full, honey.”

ezra flushes an unflattering but extremely charming shade of splotchy red. “half full of arsenic, if case files are to be believed.”

joa sighs, rocking back onto his heels. “talk about cliché, dude. even the cake bomb is more original.”

“messy, though.”

“hey, you love buttercream icing.”

“not mingled with my intestines, i don’t.”

“here comes the truck. are we doing salt lake city sixty five?”

“you read my mind,” ezra agrees, smile curling at the edges of his mouth. “you want the driver?”

so maybe this whole thing won’t entirely suck, joa thinks, smiling back. when ezra’s distracted his hand’s not even that bad to hold.

by the time the afterparty is in full swing, he’s kind of having a good time. foiling assassination attempts always puts him in a good mood, and the service was nice, for what it’s worth- he’d wondered how it would work with two women, but it was sweet in the end, just a couple of tweaks to the sermon and a lot more bridesmaids. he’d cried. ezra had hidden a laugh and complained at length about christianity. dinner had been nice too, although he’d had to eat in quick bursts what with the constant leaving to go thwart ploys to kill the bride. they’d done it under the guise of sneaking out for quickies, an excuse which had earned them surprising amounts of goodwill at their table. gay weddings, and all that.

regardless, they’ve handled attempts numbers one through fourteen and he’s feeling good. the work balances out the awkwardness- sure, he gets queasy when ezra is calmly explaining their meet-cute to strangers, but five minutes later he’s holding a stall door shut while ezra knocks someone’s face into a toilet and it calms his nerves. besides, whoever organised the wedding decided on an open bar for the night, and he’s been downing his fair share of drinks while ezra’s back is turned, which has pushed him into bright magnanimity. ezra will cover for him if he overdoes it, anyways- he still owes him for how coked out he got at that disco in the seventies.

ezra has launched into a spirited debate of twenty-thirties midwestern politics with some elderly relative; he sips his rum and coke, tuning out the familiar fast-paced scratchy speech to gaze around the room. the music is nice, for the era. so are the brides, currently waltzing merrily around the room and blissfully unaware that this night’s happy ending will set into motion a series of events leading to the discovery of the cure for cancer, or that someone with a penchant for theme has employed fifteen different mediocre hitmen to stop that from happening.

the little themed cocktail umbrella would make a sweet addition to his collection of mementos. as he twirls it he thinks that he was expecting this to be harder, or worse, the whole couples pretence. really dating ezra has just been the exact same as not dating ezra, with some additional niceties thrown in for their audience’s sake. he doesn’t mind the niceties- ezra’s hard to be nice to on the regular, so it’s neat to have him cornered, and besides watching him struggle not to break composure throughout is fun. it’s weirder when it’s ezra’s turn, because ezra’s lying is always half true by default, and it makes him wonder which parts are the lies.

he’s a little cold in his linen jacket and his drink is gone, so he follows his thoughts and drifts back towards ezra, drapes himself over his back. ezra stiffens like a corpse but doesn’t miss a beat in his sentence, because of course he doesn’t. he’s warm, though, and besides they’re playing pretend boyfriends, so he thinks he’s entitled to some shared heat without it being weird.

“maybe joa could be of use,” ezra is saying currently, obviously trying to throw him under the bus. “joa, do you remember who it was we saw that time with cousin esther at the thing in santa monica?”

“oh, sure,” joa says amiably, chin now resting on his bony shoulder. “rafael.”

the middle-aged couple make noises of recognition; ezra snorts in silent laughter, the movement making his shoulders jump. it’s a lucky guess primarily founded upon the statistics in his actual family. his cousins have shit luck- three of them with the same name has left them with some abominable nicknames. his previously name-dropped tia grassi is the only person stubborn enough to call them all rafael, just in different registers of disappointed suspicion.

ah, his tia grassi. funny woman. mildly terrifying. her fourth wedding had been an event, though he can hardly remember the second half of it, seeing as she’d refused to cater to the child-havers amongst the family and not left any of the punch alcohol-free. all he really remembers is her wedding dress, the cream-coloured version of her default pantsuit with the horrible bow. it’s funny- from where he’s stood there’s a woman right in his line of vision dressed in an orange abomination that looks exactly like the kind of thing only his tia grassi would subject some distant relative to on the day of their wedding.

wait. fuck.

“corazon, my tia grassi is here.”

"no, she’s not.”

“i’m serious, she’s walking right towards us. lady in the orange. fuck, she must be pushing a hundred.”

“shit,” ezra curses, sparing a nod for the couple he was talking to. “excuse us.”

“she’s following,” joa warns with mild fascination, as they bee-line towards the garden.

“great,” ezra says, glancing disbelievingly over his shoulder. “why the fuck is she following? and why is she even alive in this decade? how old is that woman?”

“ageless, i don’t know, she probably thinks i’m family,” joa mutters, glancing back. “which i am. just deceased family. she’s not gonna let up, you know.”

“you and your fucking bloodhound relatives. look, we can’t leave, they’re still going to try and do the thing with the fireworks.”

“well, we can’t stay either, or i’m getting marty mcfly’d out of existence, and i’m kinda partial to existing.”

“how is she even following us? scent alone?” ezra mutters, just a shade hysterical, as they wind their way past the bar. “we might have to pull a vermont.”

“oh, dude, no way,” joa says, immediately nauseous. “c’mon. it’s a wedding.”

“you were fine with it when you were beating that guy’s face in with the floral arrangement earlier!”

“yeah, and he was trying to ruin the wedding. this would be us, ruining the wedding. we would be the wedding ruiners.”

“we could choose someone neither of the brides like! they’d be grateful!”

“dude, i am not killing any guests at this wedding.”

“the only other option is worse!”

“no option is worse than murder, ‘zra, that’s kind of murder’s whole thing.”

“yeah? you rather kill hitler or fuck him?”

“always with the ultimatu- woah, woah!”

his second woah gets swallowed, which is probably for the best; ezra’s planting one on him with real determination. his brain short-circuits a bit or something; he doesn’t think to push him off, just lets him at it. it’s usually what works best when ezra’s on a mission, and also as it turns out ezra’s pretty good at the whole kissing thing, and also his nerves are singing and his blood is boiling and he is maybe, potentially kissing back, distractedly and then with intent, their bodies slotting together against the tacky fake rosebush as plastic thorns dig into his back and ezra’s sharp-nailed fingers dig into his shoulders. alcohol has made him warm and fuzzy, but there’s nothing drink-sloppy to it- just continuous, almost familiar ease, and his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

ezra pulls off first, with a nasty sound, head whipping around wildly as joa registers absently that the fireworks were going off in real life too.

“i can’t believe that actually worked.”

“three cheers for latent latin homophobia,” joa says, on auto-pilot, because right, his aunt, and time travel rules, and something. maria joseph and jesus, he’s just kissed a man.

“that and you not being violently sick on me,” ezra says, turning back to face him with his usual frown slotting absently into place. he looks awkward and irritated with his awkwardness and also extremely well-kissed. joa is struck with the realisation that he is entirely fucked in the head, because he finds the picture supremely enticing.

“dude,” he starts, because to be honest they have been skirting around this particular issue for a while and it’s hard to find a time and place to discuss it when it’s not weird or a capital offence. ezra is all narrow-eyed suspicion and coquettishly heaving breaths, which is not helping him focus but definitely helping convince him to labour the point. “i think we should probably- oh, shit, wait, the fireworks.”

he’s running before ezra can so much as cuss, and he gets there just in time, tackling the man right into the bushes and out of harm’s way, voice raised to an apologetic, casual slur even as they grapple for the gun.

“oh, my god, i’m so sorry, i must be drunker than i thought-“

the element of surprise wins him the fight; he manages to slam the guy’s forehead onto a marble lion a couple of times, sound drowned out by the fireworks above.

“honestly,” a slightly out of breath ezra is reproaching nearby, all fond reprobation, and then again once he’s shoved through the bushes himself, losing the affect. “honestly.”

“it’s fine, it’s fine,” joa says, wiping bloody knuckles on the guy’s shirt. “that’s fifteen, right?”

“it’s not fine, it’s fifteen minutes early. if coda is going to send us on these chickenshit gigs you’d think they’d get the fucking timings right.”

“it’s fine, he’s out,” joa repeats, shoving upwards and brushing bits of bush off his clothes. “viv’ll be angry about the suit though.”

“right, like she’s in the costume dep’s good books either after that stunt she pulled with the velvet dress,” ezra snorts, abruptly the voice of reason. “i can’t believe he was fifteen minutes early. that’s twice this week they’ve done this to us.”

“maybe we threw it somehow,” joa defends, rolling his shoulder. “you know the timeline warps the calculations.”

“we didn’t throw anything. twice in a week, seriously. what the fuck do we pay fees for if they can’t even get the timings right? this wouldn’t happen if we had a union.”

“‘zra, there are only ten of us. we are the union.”

“isn’t that a depressing thought. what were you saying earlier?”

“oh, that,” joa says, and then feels sick again. “hey, are you thirsty? i’m pretty thirsty actually.”

“don’t be an asshole.”

“i don’t know, honestly.”

“you’re not doing so hot on the non-asshole front.”

“oh, madre de dios, stop channeling your mom.”

“tu puta madre. i’ll give you passive aggressive.”

“fine,” joa breathes, in one big burst, annoyed and queasy and charmed all in one. “are we- like- ugh, dude, you know what-“

“specify.”

he pauses, exhales. “well, it just feels like maybe we should-“

“probably not.”

“right, but you’d like-“

“does it matter?”

“well, yeah, obviously. it’s just with work, it’s like... you know?”

“sure.”

“not that i...”

“sure.”

“although i don’t actually know if...”

“sure.”

“only then it’s like, overall- i think i want to kiss you off-duty.”

“mazel tov.”

“but would you mind?”

“did the tongue-fucking earlier not broadcast that enough?“

“jesus, dude, we’re at a wedding.”

“a lesbian wedding. that’s their expertise.”

he considers this point.

“hey, you wanna...”

“well, the body,” ezra says, albeit reluctantly. he doesn’t like mess.

“oh, sure,” joa says, thinking. “i guess maybe newark ‘02?”

“yeah, whatever,” ezra shrugs, but there’s a suppressed pleasure in the way he clears his throat. “blue’s your color, you know that?”

“my mom used to say. can you take his feet?”

“jesus, the shoes. hey, did you have some of that cocktail thing earlier?”

“yeah, a couple. there wasn’t extra poison again, was there? because last i saw the res-mac the mormons had it and i so do not want to go to their rooms again.”

“watch the stairs. no, and fuck those guys. i could just taste it earlier. the sour cherry’s not bad but the sugar in this decade tastes weird.”

“the rim is the best part, what the hell?”

“your palate is deranged.”

“you eat pickled fish, jackass.”

“fifteen minutes early. what a schlep.”

“kvetch.”

“vete a la chingada.”

“don’t i have you for that now?”

“jesus, dude, we’re at a wedding.”

“funny. so, bar?”

“you have blood all over your cuffs.”

“like anyone’ll notice. dude, you know they do 360s on ice in this decade?”

“no shit.”

“yeah, right?”

“why the hell are we still standing around not drinking?”

“viv is going to be so mad she missed this.”

“good for her. i’m still pissed about the fucking plath thing.”

“oh, my god, dude. you’re such a hypocrite.”

“name one time-”

“seriously? abbie hoffman?”

“fuck you.”

“holy shit, i think i see my aunt again.”

“are you kidding me? is she part-K9?”

“you’re supposed to be cute about it and kiss me again.”

“i’m not going to be cute about it, i hate that woman. you kiss me since you want to be so cute.”

luckily for the both of them, joa has bad taste. he complies.

#qui ecrit #ocs #tt #qui repond #anon

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