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wtfsteveharrington · 7 days

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take the upper hand | carmen berzatto x reader

push the reset button we're becomin' something new

description: carmen berzatto is stubborn and anxious and doesn't always know how to express himself. your best friend drags you to a party that carmen knows you'll be at and he shows up to make amends and thank god he does because he saves you from dealing with some drunk asshole.

content warnings: angsty!! drinking/party scene, shitty drunk guy w/ a shitty guy mentality!!, reader gets hit on with one night stand suggestion tones, carmen's ready to swing, mentions of anxiety and jealousy. mentions of reader drinking. kissing, mentions of intimacy related scratches, some light smut references.

author notes: my first time posting something that isn't just smut!! also something that no one but me has read!! normally i always get a proof read, not today. but this idea has been rattling around in my ole noggin' for a minute now so here we are. reminder!! you are responsible for your own media consumption!! if this won't be your jam then there's tons of other fics in the sea (: ily thank you!

even if it's handcuffed i'm leavin' here with you

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The last place you wanted to be tonight was some house party in Wicker Park. With Pitbull, of all artists, playing so loud in the basement that the floor upstairs was still vibrating. Everything was sticky and stinky and you did not wanna be here.

But your best friend was hooked on this guy from her gym.

It didn’t help that Carmy recognized his name from high school and mumbled out some remark about, “Oh yeah, no Dave’s a pretty solid guy.” She was convinced it was a sign that they were meant to be. Not to mention she found his mom’s Facebook and a post from two years ago that included his birth time. The whole train ride over you listened to how compatible the two of them were and how much she loved that he was a Scorpio rising.

She had begged you to come to this God forsaken party and help put in a good word for her. Something had her convinced that if you mentioned just how well you were getting to know Carmen to this Dave guy that he would hold your opinion of her in higher regards.

And sure, maybe there was a part of you that hoped Carmen would be here even while the two of you were feuding. He knew it was coming up but couldn’t promise he’d be off in time - Something you got quite used to. It normally didn’t bother you that he had so many late nights at the resturant but when it rains, it pours and now you’re stuck sitting next to the sink littered cups filled with what can only be best described as some sort of horrific finance bro jungle juice. A mix of 1942 and fresh pressed juice.

Your nose wrinkles up at the smell but you’re quickly refocused at the booming sounds of Ethan Callaghan stumbling through the back door. Another man Carmy knew from high school but didn’t like as much. Something about always being too in-your-face. Though you were pretty sure he was close with the guy your best friend was currently hooking up with in some random bedroom down the hall.

The second his eyes land on you there’s a lopsided smile being thrown your way as he tries to fluff his hair and stand up as straight as possible. He’s stumbling into the kitchen with a full drink in hand, droning on and on about how he was ‘just so jealous’ that your friend went into that bedroom earlier. How nice it must be to not end the night alone. No pleasantries at all, just right into the whole lonely and horny act that was grossing you out.

No one particularly knew you and Carmy were together yet - He wasn’t the type who wanted to label right away and potentially mess things up and you weren’t the type to out your dating status to random drunken men either. Besides, you weren’t so sure that ‘I have a boyfriend’ would put an end to this pitiful man’s sob story.

As if, on queue and manifested right out of thin air, Carmen rounds the corner and takes a second to soak in the sight in front of him. You’re sitting there with your eyes trained on the water bottle in your hands. Ethan’s yapping away about how pretty you are and how big his apartment is. An excellent view in Streeterville that you’d love to see with the best brunch place in town two blocks away blah, blah, blah. Your shoulders are hunched over, body leaning away from Ethan as he stands at the window watching his reflecting in the window above the sink.

“Hey - Been looking for you.”

Carmen.

Your head whips around to the sight of his voice instantly. There’s a pang in your chest at the sight of him standing in front of you after you two had been apart for these last few days. He looked tired. Wearing a sweater he knows you love because he wants to look nice for you. God you wanted to run over and crash yourself against his chest. Screw the petty fight. Instead you’re stuck giving him a very pointed look, hoping he takes the hint to save you.

He’d be lying if there wasn’t a split second where Carmen feared you were actually going to go home with this loser until he saw the panic and annoyance written across your face. Ethan’s laughing at the sight of him. “Hey, Dude. Think we’re all good here, yeah?” Oh he hates this dick.

There’s a thick level of tension in the room as Carmen squares up his shoulders and steps further into the room. His eyes are trained on Ethan who clearly wasn’t expecting much of a fight out of Carmy. He stops when he’s standing between your knees, putting himself between the two of you. Something about the way he instantly turned possessive turned up a feeling deep in your stomach no matter how annoyed you still were.

“Pretty sure someone out back was looking for you, Dude. It doesn’t seem like anyone in here wants you around. Now either you’re too fucking dense to realize it or you don’t care that you’re not wanted, but I’m here to let you know. So I suggest running out back and getting the fuck out of our hair.”

Ethan’s clearly entertained while looking between the two of you, a playful glint in his eye. You’re silently begging him to walk away and find yourself bringing a hand up to put on the small of Carmen’s back. While you’ve never seen him actually fight, you’ve seen many scraps between him and Richie. Heard stories of him growing up and heard the Bachelor party story.

You’re fine not having your own fight stories to tell.

T-Pain is now blasting in the background and the contrast of people laughing and singing downstairs versus the situation you’ve found yourself in is making your head spin. The whole time your best friend is clueless and wrapped up in Mr. Scorpio Rising. She owes you big time. Like you’ve secured friend of the year already and she needs to throw a parade in your honor after going through this.

Ethan’s finally putting his hands up in the air, that shit eating grin still plastered across his features. “My bad, my bad. Didn’t know you were already claimed.” Claimed. Gross. Your fingers press into Carmy’s back, a silent plea to beg him not to escalate this even more. He’s laughing at the sight of the two of you before snagging a half finished bottle of vodka off the counter and backing up towards the back door.

Carmen steps out from between your legs and follows Ethan to ensure he leaves. Shoulders pushed back, chest puffed out. You’d find the sight entertaining if you still weren’t so on edge. Carmen Berzatto, your protector.

And sure, he’s probably just making this asshole someone else’s problem for the night but he doesn’t care. The main priority is getting you away from him and getting you safe.

You catch the sight of his curls out of the corner of your eye when Carmen returns and instantly steel your spine. The shift in the air now that Ethan is gone was thick. He was a distraction from the distance between you two but now you’re preparing yourself for another argument when really you had no energy left to give it. There was a small worry that he’d think you gave Ethan any inclination that you were interested. Even though you two had been tense, there was never anyone else but you but him. Even if you’re too stubborn to drop that information just yet.

Carmen’s quiet. His heavy boots against the floor make your heart beat faster. Everyone had scattered out of the kitchen when he walked Ethan out of there but not before giving you two a nervous glance as they went. Some probably disappointed there wasn’t a fight if we’re being honest.

“Hey.”

You don’t dignify him with a response. Crossing your arms over your chest and taking a sudden interest in the magnets that littered this guy’s fridge. Toying with the idea of putting the ‘Area 51 is for Lovers!’ magnet in your pocket. You figured you deserved something for going through this hell of a night.

He stops himself once he’s reached your side, the silence awkward and thick in the air. Carmy’s hand is on your knee now, his touch not as firm as you’re used to. The whiplash of emotions once again not helping either of you know just quite where you stand.

“M’still mad at you.”

He winces but he knew it was coming.

The two of you wallow in silence. Carmy’s just about to finally speak but someone stumbles in on the hunt for vodka, takes one look at the annoyance on your boyfriend’s face, before quickly muttering they’ll find it somewhere else.

And you still won’t look at him.

He’s grabbing at your waist now, pulling you from the counter and against his chest. You wanna protest but there’s still a buzz going through your body that makes it hard to think quick enough to push back. Plus God does he feel warm and smell so good.

Carmy’s walking backwards towards the fridge, waiting until his back is flush against it to slide down. Bringing down those magnets you wouldn’t stop staring at, family photos, whatever was in his way came with the two of you. He’s tugging you until you’re straddling his waist while he brings his knees up to support you. Grabbing a hold of your face, finally making you look at him and fuck he looks like shit close up. Dark circles, hair a little messier than he’d normally allow, a bit of fear deep in his eyes.

“You gotta tell me how to fix this.” It’s all unfamiliar territory for him. There wasn’t exactly a good example set for him growing up to say the least.

Four days ago Carmen watched as the barista at some coffee shop you wanted to go to flirted with you. That shit already annoyed him, but he tried to bite his tongue. Then your latte came out with a heart in the foam and you kept explaining that’s just how they all come out but he was jealous and possessive and didn’t know how to communicate that so instead the two of you fought in the car for an hour. It was so stupid and he’s been kicking himself in the ass ever since.

The past four days you refused to talk to him and had done a good job at dodging the situation. Normally you two fight, you fuck, and then you pretend everything’s okay. The cycle was getting old and wearing you down.

Until now.

You give a heavy sigh, reaching out to toy with the bottom hem of his shirt. Carmy really did look like it had been going through it so you’re throwing him a small bone. “Maybe not making me sit on a sticky floor would be a good start.” He’s muttering out this small laugh, thankful to hear anything coming out of your mouth let alone a joke, the sound vibrating against your fingertips and you hate how much it fills your heart.

He waits for the rest. The other shoe to fall. Every ounce of laughter is gone when you finally collect yourself enough for - “Do you think we’re good together, Carmen?” You can feel him stiffen under you, his hands gripping at your waist because he needs something to give him some stability.

A beat goes by. “I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Another beat, this time it’s Carmy who refuses to look at you. Eyes downcast and trained on your lap. “But I’m not sure I’m good for you.” You weren’t expecting that.

Once again silence falls between the two of you, still toying with the hem of his shirt before you lean in to bury your face in the crook of his neck. Taking a deep breath that’s filled with his cologne, faint smoke, and just Carmen that you’ve grown to crave. “You just gotta learn to trust me, Carmen. Outta everyone in this world, I’m the main one who never wants to hurt you. Especially for some barista with a fuckin’ comb over.”

You hoped he would laugh again, but the sound never comes. Instead you feel his arms go tight around your body, his knees coming up a bit more which makes you fully lean into his chest. He’s clinging to you, wishing so badly he knew what to say (or could let himself) say what he knows he needs to. Instead he’s just pressing a kiss to your head, sighing into your hair.

“I wanna be better for you. Just don’t know how.”

The two of you cling to each other and fight to get as close as possible. The distance apart these past four days has left the both of you physically aching for one another. It’s been hours, days of a tense heart and checking phones for texts neither of you knew how to send. You press a kiss against his neck, leaning back just enough to grab his face in your hands and stroke your thumbs over his cheeks.

“It’s scary for me too, y’know? This, us. You’re not alone in being scared but lashing out at me isn’t gonna solve anything. I’m not going anywhere, Carmy.” You take the first step in mending the relationship by leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. There’s a hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place as if he’s still scared you’re going to change your mind and run off before he can realize it’s happening.

He’s letting you take the lead and only deepening the kiss once he feels your hands slide under his shirt. Fingers trailing along the toned skin while Carmey licks your bottom lip. Your hands glide around his back where you’re able to trace over healing scratches left on the skin from your last night together.

Your lips part and you take the lead once again, letting your tongue slide along his and giving a low moan into his mouth as you taste him. There’s the lingering taste of cigarettes mixed with black coffee and Carmen. Once again indescribable and simply him. His grip on you tightens up in response and you know if you’re not careful then you’ll end up disheveled and tangled up in the backseat of his car or bent over one of the sinks in a disgusting bathroom. Both options you refuse to pick over getting home and letting him properly make this up to you.

Dragging your nails along the healing marks, Carmen starts to lose track of his kissing. His grip on your neck tightening a bit more, hips rocking up towards you against his better judgement. The motion’s getting needy and sloppy and you have to pull away much to both of your disappointment.

Shaking your head and bringing your hands up to rest flush against his warm chest. “You’re not gonna fuck me on this nasty floor. I deserve better than this.” Which, of course you do. He just gets carried up when he’s wrapped up in you. He’s nodding in agreement but can’t stop himself from licking his own lips to chase the sensation of you.

He’s looking over your features, his heart picking up pace even more than he thought was possible anymore. “Think you’re meant to be my forever, y’know? Sometimes I look at you and it scares the shit out of me because I look ahead and-... It’s you. Kids sitting at a table in the restaurants doing homework. A honeymoon overseas where I get to drag you around different pasty shops and restaurants and we’ll find random art in flea markets to hang when we get home. Take photos that end up framed. It’s you. Always.”

Now how are you supposed to be mad when he’s this open and honest. Unpacking a future you had thought only you considered so far. You hope this behavior sticks. It’s not easy for either of you, but it’s worth fighting through the learning curve. “Kids, huh? Multiple? They’ll be your harshest critics, Carmy. I dunno if you can handle their reviews quite yet.” He’s chuckling, shaking his head with a lazy smile. “No, not yet. But one day.” The promise of more between you finally putting an end to this discussion for now. You make a mental note to remember this moment when the two of you bicker in the future - No matter what there’s always more on the road ahead of you.

Which makes you smile too. Wrapping your arms around his neck. “One day.” You reward him with one more kiss, knowing that’s all the two of you can risk before you end up sprawled out on this floor.

Carmy’s desperate to keep the lightened mood. He’s giving it a moment for both of you to calm back down from kissing before playfully scrunching up his face. “God you taste like shitty tequila.” It works. You’re laughing and swatting your hand against his chest, feeling a bit lighter than you did when you walked into this place. “Carmen Berzatto be nice to me!”

He’s beaming at you now. Bright, happy.

It’s a stark difference from the funk you’d both been stuck in since this fight started. The sight makes your heart swell and you bring a hand up to push some curls back off of his forehead. Leaning in to press a kiss against the tip of his nose.

“Lemme take you home, yeah? Get you some food on the way? Gotta make sure someone so pretty doesn’t wake up with a hangover.” He loves taking care of you in anyway you'll let him.

You nod and carefully start to shuffle off of his lap. Getting yourself to your feet before reaching down to help tug Carmen up to his feet. You catch as he adjusts himself in his pants, a flush blooming along his cheeks and down his neck. Stepping back in until you’re chest to chest with him, you press a line of kisses along his jaw. Rough stubble going away once you find his lips yet again. You hum against his mouth, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. “You gotta shave in the morning, Carmy.” He’s nodding instantly, reaching his hand down into his pocket to fish out the car keys.

There’s a notification lighting up your phone - Perfect timing. A simple “Gonna spend the night ;)” text from your best friend. You can’t help but to grin and roll your eyes, turning the phone around so Carmen can see the notification too. He’s laughing while sliding a hand into your back pocket and starting to lead the two of you out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, remind me to tell Dave that his friend fuckin’ sucks.”

#why am i nervous to post this #♡: c.b.#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto

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thoughtfullyrainynightmare · 10 months

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Hello, I'd like to request for fuegoleon, William, nozel, zora and Nacht where they hurt their s/O's feelings and make her cry? And just how guilty they feel, how they make it up, comfort their s/o and apologize. You can choose whatever they couldve said or done to make her cry I love anything you write they're all so good

If 5 characters is too much then just fuego, nozel and nacht would be fine please and thankyou❤️

Hello! Some hurt comfort is on the menu it seems, and I'm happy to oblige ^^ This ended up being a lot longer than I anticipated, but I hope it's worth the wait ^^

Pairings: Fuegoleon x f!reader, William x f!reader, Nozel x f!reader, Zora x f!reader, Nacht x f!reader

Fanfic type: Headcanons

Genre: Hurt-comfort

Length: about 0.75k each, 3.9k total

Warnings: Generally hurt-comfort, the guys snap at reader, all for reasons of their own, in Nozel's scenario the reader doesn't really know what kind of a person Nozel's dad is, Zora addresses reader as "babydoll", Zora calls himself as a "jerk ass", reader cries and the guys try to comfort in their own ways

Fuegoleon

He had had very taxing couple of months. The adverse the country was facing seemed to have no end in sight, and it felt that in terms of politics and finances the country was being pushed further and further into a corner, which took an immense toll on him emotionally.

And though a part of him wished that he could simply take a vacation and not worry about any of it, he knew it to be senseless. Quite simply because the same issues would wait him as he returned, and they would have further piled up, so taking a vacation would be counterproductive. But still he felt that his nerves were hanging by a thin thread, even if he considered himself as a patient man.

As he sat by his desk, you came through the door with a paper in hand.

“I made us a reservation to a restaurant,” you told him. “I thought we could take a nice evening off, have a date and just enjoy life,” you smiled, while presenting the reservation information to him.

“No thank you,” he said without looking up from the documents in front of him.

“But you need to have some time off as well,” you insisted while placing your hand onto his arm and tugging him slightly. “So I planned us a day where we can just do something w-“

“I can’t take a day off!” He snapped. “Surely a moment of peace and quiet would be pleasant, but there is too much to take care of for me to quite simply ‘take a day off’,” he continued.

And you… lifted your hand off of his arm, and took a step back.

You had intended to do something nice for him, because you had seen how strained he was and now he… wasn’t… feeling the sentiment. A part of you wanted to blame yourself because you had failed to read him and what he’d wish correctly, because wasn’t a spouse supposed to be able to do that?

There were a lot of emotions swirling around in you, but none of them were pleasant. And with it, tears begun climbing to your eyes with a burning sensation, only to roll down your cheeks.

Fuegoleon looked at you, and there was a gnawing, pricking ocean of guilt in his chest, because he knew that you had meant well. You had wanted to do something nice for him and make the situation at least a little bit more bearable.

“My love I’m…” he reached forward for you. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you, but … I…” his gaze fell to the side as he spoke, feeling the weight of his words, spoken carelessly.

You didn’t shy away from him as he tried to get close to you again, because it wasn’t… that you didn’t understand him, and you could see the sincere apology and regret in his eyes.

“I’ll… I’ll try to take the day off…” he promised with something that sounded almost like a sigh, but really it was because he knew what it’d mean.

And you knew what it’d mean too. It’d mean sleepless nights, having less time during the next week or two for you two to spend together regularly, in place of that one day. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make, but it wouldn’t be worth it. You’d rather see him a little each day than not at all.

“No,” you shook your head with a faint tone while mirroring his movements and reaching for him. “We can… just have a moment, a short moment, in the evening to ourselves,” you said through your drying tears.

His eyes gathered that gentle undertone that was too beautiful for this world, as he placed his hand onto your cheek and brushed away your tears. “If that is what you wish,” he said with gratitude in his voice before he pressed a kiss onto your forehead.

You nodded as a reply, even if only faintly.

“I am sorry, my beloved,” he still repeated. “You’re the most important person in my life, and I don’t wish to impose any-“

“No, no,” you shook your head. “I get it. There’s a lot on your plate and I should have talked about your schedule with you before making reservations…”

“But your heart was in the right place,” he told you while placing his hand under your chin. “And that’s one of the reasons why I love you,” he admitted while lifting your chin, and placing another kiss onto your lips, warm, gentle and caressing, which washed away any shadow of doubt of his sentiments that might have been there.

William

The days had grown long, because of everything that was going on in the kingdom. And with the disappearance of Julius, it had gotten him thinking about what had happened after the whole ordeal with the elves. Which had made… something about the whole state of the kingdom hit too close to home with him.

Perhaps he was questioning being pardoned altogether, since it seemed that the one to pardon him, had taken a run for it. Or perhaps something more dire.

But if the only person to be willing to pardon him was someone like him, willing to look the other way when the kingdom was falling to its knees then…

It filled him with various emotions, all swirling and twisting and turning until he felt all of them trying to bubble to the surface, but he didn’t know which to let out first. How to let them out. Instead it felt like they were all stuck in his throat, just building, building, building up pressure so much that he might-

“Hey honey!” You greeted while entering through the door of his office, only to see him hunching over his own desk. “Oh did you eat something bad, or-“ you placed your hand onto his shoulder.

But he pushed it away. “Don’t touch me!” He ordered without as much as looking at you. And from his tone, you heard nothing but pain, hurt, and… you could have sworn… disgust… underlying it all… You could have sworn there to be contempt… in there…

You took a step back, pulling your hand to you and holding it with the other. As you couldn’t… imagine why… why would he have… Your sweet William…

His chest was heaving, and as his eyes lifted from the desk to you, the most prominent feelings you could se were fear and pain. The way they flickered, his purple eyes that were so gentle, flickered around as tears lined the corners of his eyes.

“Forgive me…” he whispered as his eyes turned to the side. “I didn’t… I just… Why did he pardon me? Some… solidarity from a villain to another?” His head swayed from side to side, as if trying to comprehend, but failed to do so.

“You’re… not a villain, Will…” you tried, because his reaction had… made sense. It wasn’t you he was trying to shoo away, it was his own emotions, but you sounded anything but convinced. Tears climbed to your own eyes.

You buried your face into your hands, and wept, from the shock of what had happened, his words, but also because you had understood where it came from. Because he was pained from the guilt of his past actions, and you felt his pain too.

He turned to look at you again, as he heard your sobs, and got up from the chair to make his way to you from the other side of the desk.

“I’m sorry… so, so sorry my little song bird…” he wrapped his arms around you, and pressed his head against yours, as his tears rolled down his cheeks, and onto you. “I’ll… make it up to you…” he pleaded. “Just don’t… please don’t… hate me, I… didn’t… wasn’t… I didn’t mean to….” His voice was faint, broken and defeated, and he swayed in place with you in his arms.

It sounded like he was repenting. Praying for forgiveness.

“I don’t hate you… Will,” you told him while wrapping your own arms around him. He was a broken man, and he had acted out of distress. Without intent to hurt you. Without intent to push you away.

He pressed a kiss onto your head as his embrace grew tighter. “I’m sorry,” he still whispered.

You nudged his head with yours, and whispered against his skin “we’ll make it through.”

Because you would. The two of you would. He wasn’t a bad man. He wasn’t a villain. It was simply that the guilt he felt got overbearing sometimes, which had caused him to call out in fear of what he thought about himself.

But he loved you, and you loved him. So, you could heal, together. You were certain about it, as you stood there, holding onto each other.

Nozel

Nozel had learned to deal with his family situation from a young age. Though ‘dealing with it’ had turned into something that seemed more like survival. Not that you could see it from the surface. Because, while looking from afar, without seeing into his eyes, his emotions, he was a calm sea. Vast and serene. Though something, someone to be revered and respected, because there was also harshness in the oceans.

But if you had the opportunity to peek under the surface, you’d see a twisting, turning vortex of guilt, pain, sorrow… fear… A lot of emotions one might deem ugly.

‘Unsightly’ he would describe them in himself. Because he couldn’t be any of those things. The Captain of the Silver Eagles, the First Born Son of the Royal House of Silva, couldn’t be any of those things. And thus… to him, in him, they were unsightly.

He didn’t talk about his childhood either. He didn’t talk about his parents, aside of his mother. Which, given the circumstances of her parting, made sense. He would talk about her more because of the fate she had faced.

You had been thinking about starting a family with him. You had talked about it in passing. And as you sat in the living room, him staring out of the window, deep in thought. You talked about how lovely it’d be. “I’m sure you’d be a great father,” you thought out loud, meaning just it, and nothing else. “Just like yours.”

His head begun to turn to you with a slow motion, as if mechanic, and his eyes were wide open. It wasn’t even a glare, but a mad stare.

“I will never be like that bastard!” He shouted, making you press against your seat out of the sheer force in which the words were pushed, spat out of his mouth.

His body started to shake, and the stare turned into a look of horror as his eyes fell down to the floor. Because…. Because… though his father had been horrid, spewed poisonous words in a whole different way than shouting… maybe you had been right and… he was on his way becoming just like his father. Which was among the last things he’d want.

But you… you didn’t quite understand where it had come from. Sure, he hadn’t talked about his father, but you hadn’t thought that there’d be this level of hatred and contempt for him from Nozel. Though you had gathered that Older Lord Silva wasn’t a well liked man, but… surely he… would have been… kinder to his… own children, right?

Right…?

There were a lot of emotions turning within you. Partly from the force of Nozel’s words, and partly from guilt of having failed to see through his silence. Through the things he didn’t want to talk about, and… as you leaned forward, your elbows on your knees and buried your face into your hands, you cried. You cried and you cried and you… didn’t know what to do. What to say?

You felt a weight right next to you on the couch, as a pair of arms wrapped around you.

“Nozel I…” you tried while pushing against his chest with a faint motion.

“Don’t…” he started as his hold of you grew more firm. “Look at me…” he continued as his voice broke, and something… as if a droplet, landed onto your shoulder.

The words sounded like a plea. Plea filled with shame and the broken pieces of his soul that he wasn’t eager to show you.

But you did as he wished, and settled into his embrace.

“I’m… sorry, my dear,” he whispered with that same broken tone while placing his hand to the back of your head. “I’ll… be better, than him. I will…” you couldn’t tell if he was trying to tell that to you or to himself.

But whatever his father must’ve been like in reality, you could already tell that Nozel was far better of a man than his father had ever been. He was. Because the man who held you in the soft, gentle, secure embrace felt so very deeply about you and the ones close to him.

He really was like an ocean of secrets.

“I love you,” he professed through another whisper, but while the tone was silent, the proclamation was loud as ever. “I love you…” he repeated, just to make sure that you heard him.

And as you buried your face into his shoulder, and the scent of his haircare products flowed to you, it was as if your tears had disappeared into thin air.

Nozel might not have been the best with words, but he was there, when you needed him the most.

Zora

Zora had had to raise himself for a good portion of his childhood. Though Zara had given him good tools to life, and a lot of wonderful memories, it didn’t mean that Zora wouldn’t have had to toughen up.

His accomplishments, his skills and tenacity were all a result of him having a keen eye for details, while also having had to, quite bluntly, tell himself to do better. Pay attention to his own shortcomings and fix the issue.

But… it had also resulted in him being blunt with others. Though it was all for the sake of betterment, for growth and development of skills, the way he delivered the words were harsh more often than not. Which was something he was trying to fix, when it came to some people, at least.

You knew that he was like that. And you knew that he wasn’t the type of a guy to just sit around and expect you to do all the housework, but it didn’t mean that you didn’t like cooking from time to time. Actually, maybe it was the idea that you didn’t need to cook, because he’d be more than alright with cooking if you asked him to, but rather that you could.

But today the dish wasn’t… cutting it. You had tried to taste it many times and there was something in the seasoning that wasn’t just… doing it for you. But you couldn’t really place your finger on what was wrong with it. Or not… wrong wrong per se, but it certainly could be better.

You leaned against the stove, and sighed to yourself, as the gears in your head tried to turn. But came up empty.

A drawer was opened, and closed. There was a sound of metal clicking against metal and steps coming closer, accompanied by a hum from a certain, masked, someone.

Zora dipped his spoon into the food and took a bite to test the taste. And after he had, he sighed, sounding disappointed before making his way to the spice cabinet and laying thme out onto the table.

“The balance is all wrong,” he said. “It’s mainly salty while you want there to be some sweetness to it for the contrast as well. A bit of acid would do wonders, but the real issue is that the spices aren’t complimenting each other,” he explained while taking the spoon and adding one spice after another along with other ingredients.

And you… took a step back and let him do it. Because if it was ‘all wrong’, why should you have interjected?

In all honesty, it made you feel unappreciated. Like you couldn’t even cook right. If I can’t even cook right, then why is he with me….? You found yourself thinking.

Before you knew it, your eyes had turned to the floor and you were grinding your molars together as tears started climbing to your eyes. And eventually, they ran down your cheeks as you were still immersed into your own thoughts, in how you didn’t think that you could do a simple task correct. Because surely Zora wanted someone by his side who could contribute as much as he did. Surely. So why was he-

“Hey babydoll?”

You looked up, and saw him standing there, having placed his hand onto your shoulder.

His eyes were deep, calm blue. Clear and yet deep blue. And there was worry in them. That was when you realized that you were crying and looked away while wrapping your arms around yourself.

He sighed, and rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry about the tone,” he said. “Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, and… I’m happy to eat whatever you make,” he tried but the consolation fell short, given how he had started cooking in your place.

You curled around yourself a bit more, without really meaning to, but you did. In any case.

“Come here,” he said while pulling you into an embrace.

Seconds ticked away for a while as he just held you, and the dinner was slowly cooking on the stove.

“If you want me to stay out of it, you need to just tell me, y’know? I know that I can be too harsh, and… And… I try to not be.”

He was trying to help you get better. But he could be a wee bit of a jerk about it at times.

“We both know I can be a real ass jerk,” he said with a hint of amusement, trying to make you laugh.

And it worked. “But you’re my jerk,” you replied with a hint of a giggle in your tone.

“That I am,” he replied. “And I hope you never need to get sick of me,” he continued while pulling away just enough to wipe your tears away.

You gave him a small smile as a reply to his careful one, and went back to cooking, together.

Nacht

Nacht had been a loner for most of his life. Someone who travelled down his own path without caring what everyone else thought. And it had made him someone who spoke directly about anything and everything he deemed to be topical to say.

Though he could also be harsh. Granted that he was the harshest to himself, but still. His directness could be harsh, and you both knew it.

He tried not to be, to you. He tried to treat you with the kindness that you deserved. He tried to treat you with the respect that you ought to be treated with. But sometimes, he failed.

Though watching him scold the Bulls for their shenanigans yet again, you didn’t think that he was trying all that hard to be constructive. Maybe he just wanted them to be efficient during missions, because that would drive the squad forward the best. ‘Not to be wasteful of energy’, or something like that.

“You could try going easier on them,” you told him later on when it was just the two of you. “Be kinder.”

“Kindness is a weakness,” he scoffed. “And Yami has let them slack off enough already which will get them killed. Only a fool would go easy on them.”

You stopped, thinking about what he had just said. Because you were going easy with the rest of the Bulls. You were kind to them. And Nacht. So… so.

You couldn’t help but think that Nacht had, there and then, revealed what he really thought of you. Though it wasn’t directed at you, he had been, still, indirectly talking about you too. Basically he had called you weak and stupid.

Basically.

Which made your eyes turn to the ground as you bit down your molars and tried to will away the tears that were climbing to your eyes. Because you shouldn’t have taken such an off-hand comment that wasn’t even said to you, to the heart in such a way but… But. It had struck a nerve in you.

“Hm? What is it?” He asked, having stopped and turned around to look at you, as if he hadn’t realized what he had said.

“So you think that I’m dumb and weak?” You asked with bitterness lacing your tone as the tears finally glazed over your eyes, but didn’t roll down quite yet.

“That isn’t what I said,” he argued, now facing you fully and taking a few steps closer to you.

“But I am letting them off easier and I am being kind to them. So. If being kind and letting them have a breather is-“

“You’re not responsible for them.”

“Neither are you!” Now tears ran, but you didn’t look at him.

You didn’t look, and he said nothing.

Surely, he could have argued that as a vice captain he was more or less responsible, but not to the same extent as Yami. And at the end of the day, all the Bulls were responsible for themselves. So, he didn’t need to care about what they did with their time. Really.

“You are not weak and stupid,” he said while taking you by the hand. “Quite the contrary,” he admitted. “And I shouldn’t have spoken so carelessly.”

He sounded like he was speaking out a ready made dialogue of a noble man that he used to be. But you supposed that he hadn’t needed to comfort anyone lately either. If ever. If he had ever needed to comfort anyone. Even himself, since he had denied such a thing from himself.

But he could see how the ready made dialogue wasn’t doing it. The words might have been there, but the sentiment wasn’t.

“Darling?” He whispered, while moving again a little bit closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he said while summoning his shadows and tugging you, as if to ask to come along with him. To which you nodded, and he transported you both to your bedroom.

As you stood there, in the sanctity of the room with the door closed, he finally wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “You are not weak. Or stupid,” he repeated. This time the tone was one that sounded genuine, caring, insisting. “I’m sorry for insinuating it.”

You nodded and returned the embrace.

“It’s simply that… not being prepared can get people killed…” there was a reason, in there, why he would remind you of such a thing.

“But people need to live too.” And there was no arguing over it. Because life was meant to be lived.

Not even he could deny it. “They do…” he admitted while holding you closer in his arms.

And it was in that embrace that you could feel his heartbeat, his remorse and regret. But most importantly, you could feel how he did love you. Because he did. With his entire heart and soul.

#black clover fanfiction #black clover headcanons #black clover x reader #fuegoleon x reader #fuegoleon vermillion x reader #william x reader #william vangeance x reader #nozel x reader #nozel silva x reader #zora x reader #zora ideale x reader #nacht faust x reader #nacht x reader #fuegoleon vermillion #william vangeance #nozel silva #zora ideale #nacht faust

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sjw-publishings · 4 months

Text

Lit Gud Streamin

With much encouragement from @dumb-and-jocked

>First Time Streamin’ bro?

The house husband blushed at the first comment coming to respond to him.

Carson Green was anxious…he’d heard of streaming but never tried it until some pestering from his Gaymer group as of late.

The stay at home husband wanted to help with the finances, hence why he even considered it in the first place. Sure it was nice being a homemaker, and definitely had a flair in cooking, but he wanted to do something different.

“Y…Yeah, it’s my first time.”

>LOL K

He was relatively unsure of this, but he had known and spoken to several of the guys a week ago, and though he could have sworn they talked about a different topic entirely, he recalled about many of them bragging about ‘raking in the dough’ for gaming.

True enough, many of them are not only being paid handsomely in royalties for streaming, but they have a surprisingly large fanbase!

Admittedly, he was sort of shocked…and sort of jealousy that many of them are quite popular online, almost like they reached stardom within a week or less.

But regardless, his group also promised that they will help out with ‘assimilating’ him into the platform and moderate his stream. So surely he would reach a certain level of success with their guidance.

Though he’s still unsure how exactly will do they so.

“W…What games will we be playing?”

>Dis the game dude

>Ur in it, brought in da Boiz to watch the stream.

With that, the number count rose exponentially, from single digits, to doubles.

The house husband blushed, twiddling his thumbs at being watched by wide audience. Is it like a reality show game? Or is it something different entirely?

Granted, there weren’t any instructions or briefings given about it. Maybe it is a more on the spot, spontaneous kind of thing?

“D…Do I need to do anything in particular?”

>Just be yourself , LOL

>You gotta impress us Noob.

He…kind of doesn’t like being called a noob, but he is new to streaming after all. So he ought to listen to them, no matter how they are like.

>Dude, ur Tagline?

Tagline…?

Oh yeah! All the cool streamers he watched had one.

Wait? Since when did he watch…well he is a gamer after all, so it’s only natural that he DID watch streams, at least some of em by proxy. He is rather connected to the other guys.

“Ummm…ok LOL, what kind of tagline. Do you all have any suggestions, dudes?”

>Just Lit Gud man.

>Yeah RAT

He thought maybe it’s tough love or something…though it really feels extremely rude. Almost draining even, like yeah it was exhausting trying to keep up with his group’s gaming shenanigans, but even in their streamin’ advice?

C’mon Man!

Plus he’s just got married not a while ago! They could’ve at least be NICE to him since he’s now tied down! Like don’t get me wrong, he loves his husbro, but when all is said and done, he does miss the glory days of being with the rest of the guys.

“Look, I-D-K if Lit Gud Noobs is such a nice tagline?”

Desperate for a win here. Yeah, he may be getting quite aggro. But it’s justified! Bro.

“And who you callin’ Rat, RATZ!”

His mouth slurred at that remark, a very sleazy…immature slur as he quickly covered his mouth in that regard.

Though admittedly, he kinda liked that.

After all, if he was the rat, then these noobs are his goons. And while he usually isn’t the dominant one in his relationships, admittedly he kinda liked roleplaying as one of the typical bros, even if he wasn’t THAT asian compared to them.

>RAT BOD

>You lift Bro?

“My body…its not that well off-“

>Get lit or get Shyt on

He’s gotta get LIT.

Watching as his weight sizzle away down, melting away the bubbling tummy fat into a faint trail of a six pack, straining loosely on the shirt being his college grad pectorals.

Gotta show off after all. Specially during the bachelor’s party!

His diet consisted of pizza, soda and chips. And so ducking what? Body trim as DUCK, that’s how he lived and how his rats loved it. Some people said it was his GENE-tics or some shit that he had this bod, but you know what he says to em’?

Get lit or get Shyt on!

But even so, da shyt? Why did these bastards gotta treat him like that? Weren’t they all buds or somethin’?

“You RATZ are always so rude.”

>We rude? KAPPA

>Haha Noob!

With every interaction and vocabulary pollution, hunching lazily towards the screen, eyes entranced by the masses of comments.

LIGHTING and EMPHASIZIN’ random words, like an obnoxious mixture tainting his patience. Persistent name calling and being on the receiving end of the relationship kinda pisses him off.

>LOL K, How’s the stream?

But admittedly, a growing part of him is really getting pumped, while irritated, a small part of him liked broadcasting to these gamers.

If only they had some MAN-NERS, sheesh!

“How the streamin’ goin? Dude IDK, just a Jerkin’ stream today, nothin but insults.”

> Git Gud

> Just Git Gud

> Noob

Chat, filled with your run of the mill, cloned responses. Your typical mocks and insults, passive threading onto aggressive, a fine balance of being slightly very aggro but chill, producing RUDE DUCKIN’ INSULTS.

Each one after another, a shytposting blend that makes the stupid obnoxiousness rise higher and higher. Calves toning out from jumping upwards in sports as his body shrunk downward, making sure he sees eye to eye with dem BOIZ.

One liner aggressiveness alongside swarms of memes and complete nonsense. Idiotic behaviour, fitting a ‘RatChat’. Blending in with the other dudes, speakin’ their language, participating campus exercises and roughing around with the other bros!

Like a game, course, they are gamers after all. They know the COMBO, dissecting their streamer bud like it’s nothin’! Insults kicking right from the beginning!

He wanted to beat them at their own game!

Be hetter-BETTER! Calson Greo wanted to be a PRO.

“Alright RATZ, What’ll make me less of a noob and g-”

>Git Gud Noob

“GIT GUD?”

His voice slurred, eyebrows raised as he slumped back in his gaming chair. Like a simple command burning into his skull.

He just gotta GIT GUD! No instructions needed, except you gotta be IN DA LOOP. At TOP! As his buttocks clenched at the refusal of being BOT! Cheeks meant for exercise and gamin’.

He had to GIT GUD! And that’s being on top of his game always!

>You gotta be LIT Fam

“LIT?”

A delicious fuming rage erupted from his screen, as a multitude of laughing frogs and emojis filled his entire chat.

Igniting a fire within, his skin tanning till its just RIGHT. Made for a BOI who spends time gamin’ both online and in sports. Just like every other of his classmates back on campus.

>Stop being such a QUEER

“QUEER? Da SHYT?”

SHYT, these men tryin’ to get under his skin. Really making him all pent and rock solid. NO HOMO!

Wait WUT?

DUDE! LIEK…man he’s really even sounding immature in his thoughts? Wasn’t he some sort of QUEER? DA FK? He was g…a…guy, A GUY! YEAH! He was a guy like em!

“Thought you all stand for GUY RIGHTS?”

HE ALWAYS TOPS! Yeah so maybe he had a PHAG, but it was clear they are ‘sabotaging’ his GAY STREAM and tryin’ makin’ it the way it ought to be!

Full of SHYT-talkin’, assholes are dragging him down to THEIR level. A more rodent, nastier bunch instead of friendly GHEYS! But alright! If these idiots want to game, then they gonna-

>Look PHAG, if you want to WIN you gotta stop sucking

“SUK DEEZ NUTS!”

GOTTEM

An obnoxious Tenor bursted out from the man, retaliating like an immature douchebag as he finally sunk to their level. Height stooping at an average 5ft 9, GPA scores barely scrapping by the median. A fellow backslider like the crowd.

And HE was going to let these DOUCHEBOIS get it HARD!

>Just Chillax Gay Boi

“I AM CHILLAX!”

He sneered, as his voice rose into a stupidly obnoxious loud tenor, allowing that youthful tone engulf him in an asian tan like his peers, makin’ sure he is part of the Hivemind that is Snitch culture.

“No Sweats allowed…Just CHILLAX man…”

Feeling his mind sinking into the mass rebellious conformity that is his gamin’ community, his voice cooled slightly, gifted the flexibility to yell when he WANTS to BOIIII!

His buttoned down fused, as the simple white tee clung over his frame with slackened glee, bluntly accentuating his pectorals, as a typical print was plastered over like another typical meshed up shirt that the zoomers would wear.

He was NO SWEAT, Trousers shortening up to his thighs, lightening up into a more mesh, flexible material. Hanging loose L-sized on his waist are his flaming red basketball shorts, stickin’ out like a sore thumb whenever the dude stands up or goes for a bathroom breaks.

>Yo streamer, you a player?

“Am I a play-yer?”

The young man slurred, smirking as he acknowledged that remark, teasing those thirsty PHAGS and RATZ like he always does.

ResidentSnorer and various funny frogs spammed the chat box like no other, skyrocketing his view count to the thousands.

The young Boi loved every minute of it. He was getting the fame, boi.

“Course I am, ain’t easy being this good…”

>u dating someone?

“DAY-TING?”

Slippers took a hit in their quality, soft material becoming a pair of stretchable basketball shoes. Made for the kind of guy who keeps his options open.

Both in da basketball court, and in da bed. And yeah, it was technically his home. Well, he and his GAY fiancé’s. But it’s mostly a BRO thing! Roommates with benefits!

“Boiz, I have a fiancé , but..”

>Sounds Sus

>you gay or what?

His eyes widened, SHYT, he wasn’t supposed to say that. Not that he minded the older man…except when he was being GHEY-but weren’t they a couple…of MEN.

But aren’t they together? Da SHYT! He was a playah! BUT what about that time when they cuddled-BRUH that’s GHEY! BUT WHAT ABOUT-YOU GHEY BROSKI? BRO? B-

“BUTT-FK! I mean…I MEAN my BOI-FRIEND!”

>MEGAFAG

Fiddling the ring, the band stretched beyond the size of his palm, turning into pure eleastic as it slid down his right wrist, loosely fitting like its part of some showoffy trend.

As the chat continues to spam various emotes, including a distinct rainbow head, don’t these douchebags know he’s single and ready to mingle? Why are they thinkin’ he’s gonna be bangin’ it with some dude?

“Who you noobs calling GAY? It’s just ONE night!”

> QUEER ALERT!

> GAY GAY GAY

One hand palming below, the other one flippin the stream. Colson Groh’s darkened hair flicked down the side, his new asian ethnicity fully taking hold without remorse, blending in with the group of bullies pickin’ on him and his-FAG!

“One night of PRANKIN FAGS!”

Picking on em hard, he wasn’t one of em, but man is it HOT setting them STRAIGHT! The twenty two year college dude smirked, as PHAGS couldn’t resist starin’ at his clean-shaven slack-jaw and risen cheekbones till they get completely RAT PRANKED.

GGEZ

>Ayyy LIT

>Lets go BOI

>AFKin’ RAT!

“Bet you all can’t get ladies to your doorstep.”

>Check GayPay

GayPay my arse, StraightCoin’s the deal bro.

Though speakin’ of ladies. Hot damn…is he THAT dry? Cause he’s having that fantasy every straight, gamin’ charged college guy’s has.

Surrounded by hot ladies.

Then again, he’s always THIRSTIN’. Course, a guy like him can get a bunch of women in a flash. But he totally can jerk like a maiden-less douchebag like a bunch of the idiots watchin’ him.

Makes him relatable to his RATZ, yeah? Sides, nothin’ wrong with a lil jerkin’ on cam, nothing GHEY bout it!

>Yo RAT, check out your numbers

>BRO past 7k

>NO CAP

LIT_GUD: +7k subs

“Nggh!”

Rapidly vibrating his 7 inch joystick, brows raised as they thinned out. The last bit of hesitation melting away, making way for youthful gamin’ bravado as a seedy wide grin beamed in the stream.

“How to LIT GUD getting chicks?”

>PRO-DUCTION BRO!

>GIT LIT STREAM!

>YEEEEAAAAH BOI!

Comments flooding all over his stream, a mass mindset and mentality calling all to pump. PUMP! Pumping his POG-O STICK to the MAX! The Go-To-Game for men of his kind.

The HIGH score, as his eyes narrowed in utmost dumb simplicity, tilting his head upward to the ceiling as he grinned wildly as he thought bout’ that simple fantasy!

All da LADIES comin’ at him. YAAA BOIII!

“JUST LIT GUD BOIIIIIIIIIIIIII!”

Colton Goh no scoped all over his boxers, slumping back as drops of youthful rebellion spluttered all over, mucking it with obnoxious bully testosterone like he always does.

Feels so LIT! Being able to climax whenever the heck he wants, why abstain when he can just LIT GUD MAN! All those goody two shoe brethren back at campus grounds are really missin’ out.

But of course, he’ll scoop the remaining wads of mayo to his jerk off bottle later. He may be a backslider, but he gotta be up in his production game, beat his last record and all that shiz.

Speakin’ of which.

“E….Z….”

7k’s still just rookie numbers for a guy like him, but considering he got it all in a bunch of hours, he’s as good as the pros like the rest of em’!

“Yo…and that’s how you dudes get the ladies, man.”

>AYYYOOOO

>MY STREAMER!

>YA BOIIIIII

“Boiz, if you see any gays going all homo on ya. You gotta give em the LIT GUD!”

Normally he would collab with his streaming buds, but he really oughta help his Bromies out by teachin em.

Especially ratting out GHEYS until they turn into a couple of rats like he is. And what better way than to create his own Streamin’ channel? All he got to do was be himself bro.

Brings in the subs, and sides, hot chicks dig him, and fags thirstin’ over him get weeded out until they are a bunch of rats like he and his gamer crew.

‘[TOP] Gay Dude Joined the stream’

Speaking of fags…

“Ayy, a new fag joined the stream, sweet.”

Not sure how did ‘Gay Dude’ squirmed into his ‘TOP’ friends list, but he must’ve added him during that stupid RNG game he tried last night while he drank Heteroade with the bois.

But honestly, heh, he doesn’t give a Rats arse bout em’. After all, he needed someone to dunk on to celebrate his 7k Subs, so why not make sure the fag gets the whole RatChat streamin’ experience?

Heh, this will be hot.

“Give em a couple of Lit Guds in the chat, noobs.”

#Lit Gud Streamin #Lit Gud Streaming #gay to straight #mental change #g2s #racialchange #camp christening #christian #age regression tf #zoomer tf

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fandomaya · 9 months

Text

grant me this wish, sweetheart

Pairing: Kento Nanami x Reader

CW: loads of fluff, basic dinner date with rich man Nanami, both reader and Nanami being lovesick, Nanami loves to spoil and take care of reader, no gendered terms used, but reader wears a dress and a pair of earrings, mentions of food and wine.

WC: 1.4K+

The view is so beautiful from the 32nd floor, and you have to admit this time and again that your boyfriend has an impeccable taste when it comes to finer things in life. It is not surprising given how successful and self-made Kento Nanami is. Having a wide array of experiences and attaining an unmatched sense of maturity, being in a relationship with him just makes you want to learn more about life through his comforting presence and influence.

Your endless gaze towards the city view is broken when the waiter comes with a bottle of wine. You do not care to read the label or anything because you know Kento only chooses the best. Moreover, he told you to not worry about anything because as always he says he gets the “stress-relief” from spending time with you and taking care of you This feeling of relying on someone else may have felt bizarre when Kento wasn’t in your life, but now it is therapeutic to trust him and not overthink in his company.

Shifting your focus from the sound of wine being poured to your glass, you thank the waiter, and then you see Kento is resting his head on his palm and staring at you with such a deep longing gaze as if he is soaking up all of you as much as he could. So much love from his mellow gaze often makes you shy away, choosing to hide your blush while sipping wine, hoping the red of the liquid can excuse the redness in your demeanor.

“Kento you know there is an amazing view right beside you? You can spare a few glances there too”, you say before popping a cherry tomato in your mouth.

Pricking a pasta shell on his fork, he just shrugs and casually smirks, “why would I look anywhere else when the best view is right in front of me?”

Your eyes were wide, and you never had any apt response to whenever Kento appreciated you with his smooth voice and soft yet determined gaze.

Refocusing on the man in front of you, you see him shuffle and place an elegant box in front of you. As a reflex action, you end up hiding your face in your soft hands because there is one thing that Kento doesn’t understand no matter how smart he is, that his company and lovely attention towards you is enough. But Kento finds his joy in spending his material wealth on your well-being and upkeep. Unlike you, he feels it's greater than any investment and business he has ever made because the results are beyond any monetary gains.

“Kento what is this again? You already gifted me this dress today, and you told me that no matter what I cannot request to split the bill but now another gift, and it looks so expensive! Kento this is really unnecessary.”

Your boyfriend being a man of few words just heaves a sigh and opens the box and pushes it towards you, “how is it? I think this emerald bracelet would suit you so much. Go on, love, try it on.”

Still resilient in your stance, keeping your arms crossed, you determinedly reply, “Kento please don’t deviate from the issue. You have already done so much for me and I appreciate your sentiments as well as really grateful to have you as my partner, but this bracelet was not needed right now.”

Kento listened to you carefully only to glance down for a second and abruptly pushed his chair backward. Did you anger him? Maybe you should have accepted his gift instead of being so nagging, but you just wanted him to be careful with his spending and as his well-wisher you just wanted him to be a tad bit careful about finances. You know that he is financially abundant and, way more capable and mature than you, but it gets hard for you to just keep on taking from him.

In between your thoughts, you suddenly see him lift his chair with the left hand and place it beside your chair, not caring what some of the other patrons in the restaurant are thinking of such a seemingly bizarre activity in a classy establishment. But you had to be in awe of the silent strength that your boyfriend possessed. He sits down again, his calloused yet comforting hands goes to your supple cheek, caressing them in a manner that makes you lean into his touch. Closing your eyes and exhaling his name in a quiet plea, since you know you can never win against him on such matters, where he is determined in showering you with love in all possible ways and beyond, known to mankind.

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear and admiring the sleek gold earrings that he had chosen for you on a business trip to Paris, a couple of years back. He trails his hand down your neck to your soft arms and raises your hand to kiss your knuckles with so much tenderness that it makes all your inhibitions melt away and warm your heart. He trails his lips towards your wrist, and the throbbing pulse underneath calms him down in an unusual manner. The way he looks up at you with those tired eyes that have found a shelter in your eyes, with so much of devotion that it seems that the time has stopped, as if it is just the two of you in this whole wide world and that is just simply enough.

Kento turns to his side, to pull out the bracelet from the open box, wraps the cold metal on your delicate yet capable wrists and admires the green jewels on your skin. Pulling you towards him and maintaining his signature eye contact that signifies his determination, he just says, “This simple bracelet is not about whether it is needed or not. It is about wishes. I wish to see you wearing this. It is not a hard wish to grant to an old man like me, is it now?”

You couldn’t help but frown a little and burst out in a chuckle, and end up lightly hitting his chest.

“Kento you are hardly a few years older than me! Stop being so prematurely geriatric”

“Darling, a decade and more doesn’t count as a few years”

“Doesn’t matter because we are together and time is an illusion.” you retort with a huff, only to wrap your arms around him to hide your face in his neck and whisper a thank you on his skin.

Kento’s strong arms encircle your waist and like always he instinctively rubs your back, and also admires the faint reflection on the window panes, where you look good in his arms in any possible way and angle, that keeps the rare smile on his face intact.

Pulling away from his neck, you look at him, admiring his features, which seem to get more attractive with every day. Or maybe you are just too lovesick. Or maybe he is indeed like the wine you had tonight, where he gets better with aging.

“I thought of getting you a ring, but I can’t entertain the possibility of getting rejected in a damn restaurant.” Kento had to say this while breaking your reverie.

At that moment you swear your boyfriend is sometimes too blunt that makes him adorably stupid.

“Kento you want to know something about yourself?” you said while plastering a forced smile full of sarcasm on your face.

He continues rubbing your sides and cocks his head to the side, curious to know what you have to say.

"You are probably the first person who reveals their proposal plans to their partner. I think you are mingling with Gojo too much."

"My love, I am a simple man. A person like you who is perfection personified does make me worry a little about your answer."

You are left speechless again, given how sincere Kento is with his intentions, and you almost want to run away because your heart beats too fast and is about to break free from your chest, but you have to regain your composure because Kento cannot always have the upper hand.

"Hmm, I may be a bit careful about money, but I won't accept a proposal without a nice ring from my future husband…" looking away you shyly mumble, “also I am not stupid to reject the best person in the world”

Kento being attentive as ever does catch your words. Smiling gently, he makes your head shift towards him and like always he just looks at your eyes lovingly while caressing the apple of your cheeks, before he closes the distance between you two and pours his affection when his lips meet yours, to conclude this beautiful night.

A/N: This was in my drafts for so long and I finally got the motivation to finish it. I don't think it's that good, but I swear it was much better in my head ;) Feedback and reblogs are much appreciated <3

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #kento nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #nanami fluff

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sl-newsie · 19 days

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The Secret Ingredient (Willy Wonka (2023) x Fickelgruber Daughter) Chapter 2: Pleased To Meet You

“Are you alright, Ms. Charlotte?” Lottie asks as she brings over my breakfast tray. “You seem distracted.”

She’s right. Ever since yesterday my mind’s been in a fog. I can’t stop thinking about the man in the top hat. It’s like I’ve got a nagging feeling in the back of my head that’s itching to know who he is.

“Sorry, Lottie. I usually don’t take so much interest in newcomers, but there was something different about that man yesterday. I hope father doesn’t go too hard on him.”

“I very much plan to!” The man in question announces. “That Wonka fellow is going to wish he’d never set foot in this town!”

My head perks up. “Wonka?” Now I have a name to match the face. “But why? He won’t hurt anyone.”

Father scoffs. “He will hurt our business! Besides, he’s-” he shutters. “P- P-”

I raise a brow. “Poor?”

He leans over and gags. “Yes! That! But don’t worry, dear. We are going to run him out and he will no longer be a threat.”

I feel my temper start to churn and I gawk at his arrogance. “There’s more to life than competition, dad. He wants to sell chocolate, that’s all. Isn’t encouraging his dream worth a few coins?”

But it’s no use. Once again my words wash over father and he walks off to join Prodnose and Slugworth for their morning meeting. Guess I’ll go back to my usual reading and study sessions? Unless…

“Say, Lottie,” I think out loud. “I might be willing to take up that offer from yesterday. You’d still be inclined to sneak me out tonight for a bit, would you?”

The maid’s eyes widen and she gets a funny smile. “Yes! I knew it! I knew there was something funny about you yesterday!”

I frown. “What’s that mean?”

She giggles. “Oh, you know. See a cute boy, can’t stop thinking about him…” She trails off suggestively.

“Excuse me?” I gawk. “What’s wrong with wanting to meet someone new? This man might be the adventure I’ve been looking for!”

The day drags on unbelievably slow. The whole time I’m stuck in mind-numbing private lessons about finance and lady etiquette. The only enjoyable session I have is my lecture on chocolate chemistry.

“Mr. Snickers, just how many cocoa beans can be churned into chocolate? Wouldn’t it be the more beans there are the richer the chocolate is?”

My teacher gets a certain gleam in his eye that always happens when I spark an idea. “One would think, Ms. Fickelgruber. But there is also a rumor that there could be a secret ingredient we may never be able to measure.”

A secret ingredient…

Mr. Snickers is by far one of my favorite people. Sometimes I wish he was my adoptive father. He’s no doubt much more caring than my real one. Sadly he has no wife or kids of his own so he’s devoted his life to teaching. His lessons both inspire imagination and moxy, which are things my life craves on a daily basis.

“I’ll leave off with that note,” Mr. Snickers says as he packs up his briefcase. “Remember your assignment is to compare the different cocoa bean to sugar ratios from the major chocolate corporations.”

Just then Lottie appears with his weekly check in hand. They both exchange shy smiles and my hypothesis thickens. For weeks I’ve been seeing their feelings blossom and it only drives my curiosity behind the idea of love. Obviously they take a fancy to each other so why ignore it? But perhaps it’s not as simple.

I catch a quick peek at the window. It’s dark now, meaning it’s almost time for father to retire to bed. My moment of opportunity approaches. It’s best to wear something less conspicuous so as to not draw attention from the constables. For this evening’s confidential gallivant I choose a plain light pink dress with brown boots. I’m actually surprised these are still in my closet. I haven’t worn anything this “poor” in years. But unlike father I prefer a touch of modesty.

Deep breath. Take a look outside… All dark. Father’s gone to bed. Time to move-

Thump. Thump.

What in Heaven? There’s footsteps on the ceiling- Wait a minute. Is that…? It is! The chocolate man and a little girl are floating on the roof! Carrying… balloons? There’s no way I can walk away from this now!

I do little to hide my excitement and take off running down the staircase.

Lottie spots me and starts following. “Where are you going?”

My smile widens. “I’m meeting destiny, Lottie!”

She grips her long skirt and chases after me. “Wait for me! I need to sneak you out, remember?”

Right. That part.

“Quick, get in here.” Lottie beckons to the dumbwaiter and I climb inside. “Once you’re downstairs, take the door on the right. It should lead you to the back alley. Good luck!”

She gives me one final wave and I’m lowered into the cellar. Down here all there is are extra ingredients and old trunks full of countless forgotten things. I follow Lottie’s instructions and step out into the brick alley. It’s so dark not a single shadow is cast. The perfect environment for a quick sneak-out.

If my intuition is correct, the wind would have blown the two balloonists towards West End Street. Thankfully there’s little foot traffic so I have the courtesy to search the skies without bumping into anyone. Since father hardly lets me leave I need to stay focused and not get lost. I shall use landmarks. Like this fountain-

“Don’t sell chocolate here ever again!”

The police chief’s familiar voice heightens my attention and I see him holding a man’s head under the cold water. Wait! Why is he dunking him?

“Stop!” I sprint over and now see it’s the Wonka man that’s being held under. “Chief, he’s done nothing wrong!”

“On the contrary, miss. He sold chocolate without a license.”

After a few seconds too long I start to fear for his vitals. “Let him breathe!”

The chief realizes he’s still holding Wonka under. “Oh. Right.”

He lets go and the poor man rises gasping for breath, sopping wet. Same overcoat, same worn out boots. I notice a top hat on the ground and pick it up to offer him. But Wonka’s still clearing the water from his eyes and he doesn’t see.

“There’s your warning, Wonka,” the chief pats him on the back and starts walking away. “Have a good evening, miss.”

Wonka wipes the wet hair away from his face and now I can see just how cute he is, even if he is wet. But not just cute. There’s an intriguing look about him that makes me feel nostalgic and want to explore the wildest ideas my mind can conjure.

“It is you!” I gasp. “The strange man with the magic chocolate!”

The man himself does a mock bow and tilts his head. “I’m sorry, have we met before?”

I shake my head. “No. In fact, I was hoping I might find you to meet you properly.”

Wonka’s eyes twinkle. “Really?”

“Yes I want to meet the man who made everyone happy with his chocolate. You see, normally the chocolate around here isn’t as enchanting as others make it out to be. But your chocolate really seemed to spark something in people yesterday.” I bite my lip and hold up his hat again as a kind of peace offering. “I’m sorry you got kicked out. I tried to stop them.”

“Thank you!” The man grins and places the hat on his head. “Well, since you have done me a service it’s only fair that you get to taste the marvelous chocolate you seem to admire. Here, try one!”

He digs into his pocket and pulls out a chocolate the size of a strawberry. No charge? Father would go ballistic over free samples. It’s not that I’m not touched by his gesture but chocolate has sadly started to become more ordinary than it should.

“Oh, thank you. I appreciate it, really. It’s just… I’m personally not a big fan of chocolate…”

“Come again?” Wonka suddenly gets a serious expression. “I don’t trust people who don’t like chocolate.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t not like chocolate, it’s just that chocolate’s been a bigger part of my life than I’d care to admit.”

The man seems amused by my answer and tips his hat.

“I like you! Oh, where are my manners? Name’s Wonka, Willy Wonka! At your service! Miss…?”

A name. He wants my name.

I bite my lip again as I banter with my internal struggle.

“It’s Charlotte.”

Willy gives me a lopsided grin. “Usually there’s a second part, right?”

I nervously laugh half-heartedly. “Yes, but for me people usually judge me differently when they hear the second part.”

The top-hatted man steps closer and wiggles his eyebrows. “Promise I won’t.”

I arch an eyebrow to show my doubts.

“I promise! And-” He holds up a pinkie. “I’ll pinkie promise!”

His childlike demeanor is too adorable to ignore despite my brain tugging at me to say no.

“Charlotte Fickelgruber,” I speak quickly and tense up, waiting for him to scoff or lose interest. But instead Willy’s surprise is actually polite.

“Really? I didn’t know Fickelgruber had a daughter.”

“Not many do,” I mutter. “Aside from being next in line for his chocolate empire I really don’t have much purpose.”

“Why say that?” Willy asks. “You’re part of one of the biggest chocolate industries ever!”

“Yes, and you’ve personally witnessed how cruel my father can be.”

We start a slow walking pace down the dimly-lit cobblestone street. Now I notice Willy’s still using a cane.

“Why the cane? You're not crippled.”

“It adds character!” he smiles. “You’d be surprised how many uses it can have.”

I peer over at him with curious eyes. “What’s your story? You’re obviously not from here.”

Wonka grins. “That obvious, huh? You’re right. I’ve just come from sailing 7 years at sea.”

My eyes widen. “Sailing? That sounds fun! What’s it like? Are there sea monsters and mermaids? I’ve only ever read about what the outside world is like.”

The man chuckles at my response. “I never spotted one of those, though that doesn’t mean they could be real. Do you read much?”

“Yes. Books are what take me away from here.”

“I know someone who thinks the exact same thing,” Willy points at me as if he’s a salesman addressing a lucky customer. “Well, this is me.”

We’ve stopped at what looks like a dingy hotel. Hm. For being such a colorful character Wonka certainly picked a dodgy place to stay.

“Will you be back at the Galeries Gourmet tomorrow?” I ask anxiously. “People adore your chocolate so you’re bound to make a big profit.”

Willy takes off his hat and twirls it open his finger. “Sadly I’m afraid my business deals will have to be done under the table from now on. Or better yet, under the city.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that since I’m not allowed to sell chocolate in the Galeries Gourmet without a license then I’m selling it elsewhere.”

An uneasy feeling starts to churn in my stomach. Illegal chocolate? What has this world come to?

“Don’t worry.” He must have noticed my concern. “I made some new friends who have helped me come up with a plan. By tomorrow Wonka chocolate will be sold throughout the city for one sovereign apiece, unbeknownst to the police.”

I stifle a laugh. “You only charge one sovereign? No wonder father and the others are upset. That’s way too affordable for their standards.”

Willy just shrugs. “Chocolate shouldn’t be deprived from anyone.” He dramatically looks around to see if anyone’s watching and leans in to whisper: “If you wanna see us in action, stop by the bridge tomorrow.”

My breath catches. “B- But I’m… me.”

“Yes. You are you. What’s wrong with that?” he asks.

“I’m the daughter of one of the men who are trying to run you out of town.”

“So? You’re not your father, Charlotte. Seems to me like you want to change the world with chocolate as much as I do.”

“Psst!”

We both look up to see a girl’s face peeking out of the top window. She’s the one Willy was flying with earlier!

“Willy! Come on! I’ve got the milk, now get up here so we can make the chocolate!”

“Right!” Willy turns back to me and tips his hat as he starts sneaking off to the back stairs. “Sorry to rush Charlotte but duty calls! See you tomorrow!”

And tomorrow can’t come soon enough!

#wonka 2023 #willy wonka #willy wonka x reader #wonka movie #wonka x reader #arthur slugworth #felix fickelgruber #gerald prodnose #timothee chalamet #calah lane

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mbti-notes · 11 days

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Anon wrote: Hello MBTI-notes! I'm an INTJ seeking for help on how to deal w my situation that involves considering finance. I tend to be good at dealing with these practical problems but this dilemma gets mixed into a great relationship that I'm very unwilling to let go, my relationship w my current bf who's INFJ.

I'm not someone who seeks a lavish lifestyle, but I'm apprehensive about facing homelessness in the future, having to rent year-round.

We've been together for over six years. Meeting him brings me so much joy; he's truly the man of my dreams I've been waiting for all these years. My second love. He's warm, gentle, kind-hearted. I can feel his sincerity, he treats me with affection, often buying gifts to make me happy, doting on me. He cooks delicious meals and often cooks for me. Attentive, taking care of me in every way, always proactive in expressing his love. We also understand each other in a spiritual way that no one had ever done to me in my life. A quiet morning with him is blissful. Sometimes, we even know what each other is thinking without speaking.

Everything seems perfect; his love for me is beautiful, but unfortunately, he comes from a difficult family background. Ten years ago, his family had to sell their house to help his father pay off a large debt, and since then, they've been renting. His mother passed away long ago, and now he lives with his father and older brother. He's filial, responsible for the family, the main pillar, burdened with the responsibility of providing for their needs. Financial burden had been his obstacle both in personal relationship & job. Without intrinsic motivation, maybe he would have dropped uni in his last year.

Understanding his situation, I don't demand material things from him. Even when we dine out, I share expenses with him, alternating who pays to ease his financial burden. Often, I feel sorry for him, such a good man in such dire family circumstances. My own family is luckier; we don't have to pay rent monthly, though we're just a middle-class family, not affluent.

In this relationship, I feel like I'm standing at a crossroads. Because of his financial constraints, loving him requires me to consider many things: thoughts of the future, a small family, future children. Is it okay to have no stable home, to rent from year to year? Will we argue over financial matters constantly? Is love enough to overcome hunger? I truly don't know. We love each other sincerely; I'd regret losing him. Is this economic instability sustainable? Should I let go of a good but poor man? I wish he was at least richer.

Any advice would be appreciated. Thank you.

----------------------

Deep down, you suspect this is a once-in-a-lifetime relationship, and you may be right. Can you really put a price tag on something as precious as that? You're basically asking whether one can put a price on love. It is a matter of opinion. Some will say yes, some will say no. Perhaps I'm a hopeless romantic, so I would say no. At the end of the day, it is a judgment you have to make based on what you value most in life or how you decide to rank your values. It's not my place to tell you what you value or what to value.

The obvious question is: Have you brought this issue up with him and have you had productive discussions about it? If so, what are the key points you keep getting stuck on? If you haven't discussed it properly yet, that's a problem, because these things should already be clarified by year six of a relationship.

Like you said, you don't demand to live lavishly. You are mainly concerned with financial security, and you use home ownership as a barometer. I don't believe home ownership is an impossible goal for two highly motivated people. You might have to hustle, work hard, be creative, manage finances very closely, choose your residence wisely, etc, but it's possible. It might also help to get expert financial guidance. However, you both have to commit to the goal and make some sacrifices in order to achieve it. For example, he may have to pull back a little from his family duties, or you may have to put off children for a few years.

What are you each willing to sacrifice in order to contribute an equitable effort to this goal of home ownership? In a perfect world, these practical matters shouldn't interfere with love. In reality, they don't have to, as long as you can communicate, negotiate, compromise, and reach an agreement that both parties can live with and abide by. Although money can be a sensitive issue, it is a practical problem, isn't it? So, use practical methods to resolve it.

When you feel stuck, it often means you haven't taken enough action to address a problem. And you should remember that big problems can't usually be solved all at once. You need to break it up into steps and then take one step at a time. By doing this, you create some forward momentum and feel less stuck. Since you are both Ni dom, it might be worth mentioning that you shouldn't approach life as though every decision is a life-or-death or all-or-nothing decision. It is okay to change your mind upon gathering more evidence that things aren't going to work out after all. Until then, all you can do is give it your best shot, step by step. A great way to avoid regret is to make sure you've completely exhausted the opportunity before deciding to move on to the next one.

#intj #intj relationships #money #finance #ask

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wttcsms · 22 days

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okay, so just yapping and sharing lots of notes & minor spoilers & extreme details of what i have planned/going on for balancing act (which WILL see an update this month, trust 🤞🏻)

please please please, if u read this, lmk your thoughts & if ur picking up what i'm putting down or else i have to revise my outline LOL

what's fun about balancing act is that we get to see my take on gojo's character; i've received comments and asks saying how they like how i've written not just gojo, but all the in-verse characters we have & i'm excited to expand more on gojo's friendships with everyone around him bc as a fanfic writer, it's a fun challenge to see how in character we can get these people when they're thrown into a wildly different universe.

so, talking abt "my take" on gojo's character: he's a goofy guy. he's cocky; he's a flirt. he knows he's Got It All, and he definitely drives a fancy sports car w a custom license plate that reads SIXEYES (bc this is a finance bro au, everyone claims he must have six eyes w the way he never seems to watch the markets but knows exactly when and what to go all in with). BUT !!! i love balancing act bc gojo is not reduced to "cocky womanizer and then u 2 fuck despite claiming to not like him" we get to see gojo's character shine through in his actions, not only in how he treats reader but also in how he interacts with all the characters. he's silly, he plays pranks, he sometimes (almost always) is annoying, but the things he does for them is always stemming from genuine kindness 🥹 like, i have this thought (my finance girlies will understand what i mean/it'll be explained in the fic) that yuuji is interning at the firm for a summer but he's from a non-target school & doesn't come from the same circles as most of the people in finance; knowing that yuuji feels a bit alienated from his peers, gojo goes out of his way to make dorky company merch and requires that all interns wear it & OF COURSE, it's one of those vests with the firm's name monogrammed on it & it's so pretentious but it's a finance bro right of passage and he did this so yuuji would have that status symbol but he also didn't want to single him out. things like that 🥹 he's thoughtful and we need to talk abt it more and we will explore this more within the fic!!!!

and balancing act is so special to me because it's all about loving someone so much that the mundanity of life suddenly seems exciting; suddenly, the boring, not so glamorous parts of life are an opportunity to showcase how much you love someone. MINOR SPOILER, but a scene that's so sweet and exemplifies this is the fact that you live in a luxury apartment building. authorizing/registering a specific vehicle to your apartment's parking services is a pain in the ass, and it's even more annoying to take off a car from the car registry list. that's why any past boyfriends, u rarely let them into ur apartment (bc it's ur safe space, where u can just be urself entirely) and the ones who do make it to ur apartment always use guest parking, which has a time limit. we, in typical romcom fashion, get the adorable "you're sick and he takes care of you" trope!!! so you have a bad flu and gojo drives you to ur apartment and takes care of you, but he's not registered as an authorized vehicle so he has to go to guest parking. well, he spends days with you while u recover, and he sees all the parking fines on his windshield. it's $100 per every hour he goes over the time limit. it's been days. your doorman is a sweet man who is always looking out for u and never likes any of the boys u take home, and he beefs with gojo (for comedic purposes, i promise. it's a fun dynamic) and gojo knows it's the doorman who reported him to parking services. gojo ofc is returning to the apartment building, holding the stack of tickets in one hand (using the same hand to wave cheekily at the doorman), and goes back in ur apartment to show u all the tickets.

he doesn't hold it against u though. what he says is, "your doorman hates my guts." all pouty and whiny. you tell him that the doorman hates the guts of all the boys u bring back & that he shouldn't feel too special, and that this is his way of saying gojo's overstaying his welcome, which u find hilarious. and gojo is like "well, he's saying you're only worth $100 an hour." blah blah blah, BUT !! circling back to the mundanity of life and how it serves as an opportunity to show our love for someone:

you go through the trouble of registering gojo's vehicle under ur apartment. even though u keep saying gojo is annoying and a pain in the ass and that this fascination he has with u will eventually fade, even though u claim there's a time limit to his affections and you KNOW how much of a hassle it is to unregister his vehicle if things do go south for y'all... you still go through the trouble of registering his vehicle, a sign that you like him. a sign that you're hoping things will be permanent.

and that's basically a major point of the fic!!! that our actions, our silly, simple, boring actions, can all have special meanings 🥹 if you look for it, you'll see that love really is anywhere

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riftclaw · 11 months

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I guess this is kind of a propaganda post for @sonic-oc-showdown as well as a way to introduce V to my friends in the moderneo discord! I’ve made them look at him but haven’t talked much about him before.

V is nb/genderfluid; sometimes he’s a man and sometimes he’s a woman. He doesn’t accept she/her pronouns from anyone who isn’t a close friend, though, bc he’s spent enough time in the military to get mad at people using feminine pronouns as an insult.

The number of times he’s punched someone for using feminine pronouns as an insult is extremely high.

He’s also polyam and has a fairly stable family unit w Caprice, Curie, Valke and Luka, with a couple sattelite relationships that matter just as much to him.

The wolf here is Curie, and V broke into a government lab and stole him away bc they were mistreating him.

He’s the power member of a heroes team with Curie being flight and @sege-h‘s Storm as speed.

His hidden disability is a condition similar to MS, with gradual nervous system degeneration focused mostly on his legs and tail. He’s still young enough that he can avoid the cane/crutches most of the time, and he doesn’t like showing “weakness” very much so he only relies on them when he absolutely has to.

He got so annoyed at not being able to use hammerspace powers like every other mobian in Amalgam that he hacked his own genetic code in order to give them to himself. Before that he just carried a bunch of rings in his pockets to throw at people if they smacked him.

He and Caprice got married for legal purposes (so Caprice would be able to handle his finances and the like if something happened to him) but it took him like 2 years to realise Caprice also really loved him. Being aroallo is hard sometimes.

GUN thinks they gave V his shapeshifting powers and V lets them believe that. It means they don’t ask too much about his ability to pop in and out of reality.

The military really would lock him in a box if he wasn’t so good at escaping. They still haven’t figured out how he does it.

His blunted/flat affect and dry sense of humour mean that it’s very hard to tell when he’s just messing with you. He takes full advantage of this.

He pioneered a technique to stabilise dangerous mutations in mobians, which he used to save DJ the Polecat’s life when he started turning intangible and sliding through objects. He brings DJ new comic books every time he goes to the facility DJ lives in.

V introduced himself to Apple the Badger by piledriving her transphobic father into his car and walking her home.

He lets his girlfriend Neura poison him for fun.

He won’t obey orders from anyone he doesn’t respect, and said respect has to be earned. He’s told several powerful people to take a long walk off a short pier bc he didn’t like what they wanted him to do.

I FORGOT THE POLL LINK

#riftclaw art #sonic oc #sonic fc #mobian oc #agent vx #curie the radiant #reblogs #guest art

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sirenfromthelostcity · 2 years

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The Contingency

A/N: Hiya! okay so couple things, firstly I realize that my portrayal of Damian might be a lil different from some on here but honestly i feel like when Damian is in love this boy falls HARD so he’s gonna be hella romantic with his partner bc he feels safe and he not only love his partner but his love is reciprocated. The more above it all they are, the harder they fall. im not sure if that’s a saying but it applies. Second, this blurb/chapt is a sort of pre-logue to the part 4 of my Movie Night series and it is a lil different from the regular tone of how the story’s been going so pls let me know if y’all like it, if you agree with what Damian did or didn’t do. I’m honestly really unsure of it all now lmao if anything I might just delete this and pretend it never happened lol my anxiety is really acting up. PLLLEEAASSEE tell me your thoughts on how the story is progressing and if you’re enjoying it!!! It really means a lot to me plus it’s nice knowing ppl are enjoying the stuff i’m putting out <3 <3 <3 okay toodles for now and enjoy!!

P.S. Next chapt might be inspired by the new Dr. Strange Multiverse of Madness Movie but no spoilers!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 3.5

Words: 2.5k

Damian sat in front of the computer in the Batcave, begrudgingly analyzing the files before him. This was the second time he was reviewing them. He had hoped that if he missed something it'd stand out to him the second time around. So far, no such luck.

It started out with a string of robberies, nothing Batman couldn’t handle. Then he found out the robberies were orchestrated by a man calling himself The Scientist in order to finance a new drug he was creating, Project Ambrosia. Allegedly, it was supposed to temporarily give people metahuman abilities. However, if you already possessed such abilities the drug was rumored to increase your powers to omnipotent levels.

This definitely wasn’t good news for Gotham. Fortunately, The Scientist was apprehended. Unfortunately, this wasn’t done so before the drug was finalized or before word of its completion made its way to Killer Croc and Bane.

It was two nights ago when Bruce had his encounter with the two as they tried to steal the drug for themselves. Fighting them both simultaneously was difficult even for someone like Batman but when Killer Croc managed to inject himself with the drug the situation quickly became much more catastrophic. Bruce quickly realized the rumor of the drug’s effect on metahumans was true. With the drug in Killer Croc’s veins he was able to leave Bane in critical condition and Batman was next to receive his wrath. He knew he had to act fast and so he destroyed the remainder of the drugs but not without sustaining perilous injuries from Killer Croc’s amplified rage.

Thankfully Dick and Damian intervened before more damage could be inflicted upon their father but Killer Croc still managed to retreat. So far there’s been no news on Killer Croc. However, they’ve all recently been informed by Jim Gordon that there was a second variation of the drug and it was stolen last night.

Damian rubbed at his temples in exhaustion and frustration as he failed to find any clues within the files. To add to his annoyance his one year anniversary with (Y/N) was approaching by the end of the week and considering how the case was progressing, or not progressing, he doubted he’d be back home in time.

He could hear Dick and Bruce talk about potential leads behind him as Dick cleaned a wound on Bruce’s back that he couldn’t reach. It was then Damian volunteered to do more recon at the lab where The Scientist was apprehended.

Frankly, he felt like he had exhausted all the information the files had to offer and just wanted to stretch his legs and clear his mind. It was as he was closing up all the files he had opened that he saw it.

It was a hidden section within the files that he’d never seen before. Had he not accidentally scrolled further down he doubted he would’ve found it either.

Why would his father try to hide this? His curiosity was piqued. In the hidden section there was only one file.

The Scarlet Witch

Upon clicking it, half a dozen pictures of (Y/N) scrambled across the screen, one of them being a picture taken of her on her very first day on earth. There was also a strange, dark illustration within the files. Damian did not recognize the being but he was able to make out the figure of a female body along with her hair, some strange symbols, and what looked to be a crown. Admittedly, the image looked a little threatening. Next to the pictures appeared various notes on (Y/N)’s abilities, voice memos, records, and even videos of her in battle. Damian recalled the fights, as he was there when they happened, but his father was not. Then he remembered the recording lenses he wears when donning his caped alter ego.

He was peeved at the thought of his father combing through his personal recordings without asking, it was an invasion of privacy afterall, but he was also confused.

Why would father steal my recordings? Why create this file? How long has he been keeping this from me?

Dozens of questions flooded his mind but as he read further into the file, he began getting angry…

“What… the hell…is this?”

It came out as a whisper but his anger was loud and clear.

Bruce and Dick both turned to look at him.

Dick was confused at the files on the screen. Meanwhile, Bruce remained indifferent despite the argument that was about to ensue.

“YOU HAVE A CONTINGENCY PLAN FOR MY PARTNER?!” Damian yelled as he confronted his father.

Dick backed up and looked at Bruce in disbelief, seemingly unaware of Bruce’s plans either. “Really Bruce?”

“Explain yourself!” Damian snarled at his father.

“I don’t have to explain anything,” he rose from his seat to meet his challenge. “You both know more than anyone what my contingency plans are made for. They’re a precaution.”

“A preca- Bruce, she’s a kid,” Dick interjected.

“A kid who was able to subdue Superman while he was under demonic possession,” Bruce corrected. He walked to the computer, “And she’s not just a kid.”

Bruce clicked on one of the images from the file and the image of the strange illustration was enlarged on the screen.

“‘The Scarlet Witch is not born; she is forged. She has no coven, no need for incantation. A being capable of spontaneous creation. Her destiny is to rule the cosmos or annihilate it.’”

The way he spoke made it clear he was reciting the information which added to Damian and Dick’s confusion.

“Where’d you get this info from?” inquired Dick.

“More importantly, what does this have to do with (Y/N)?” Asked Damian. “She doesn’t use magic, she’s not a witch.”

“Zatanna learned it from Constantine and she informed me of this when she became aware of (Y/N) and her abilities.” Bruce looked to Damian, “From what we know of her abilities and feats, Zatanna and I believe she may be The Scarlet Witch. Although she hasn’t exemplified everything yet this could be due to lack of opportunity or knowledge or both. I’m not taking any chances if she is who we suspect she is. I imagine she told you about how she acquired her powers?”

Damian, who was currently glaring at his father with his arms crossed, nodded. “They tortured her,” he looked away and his eyes softened as he reminisced on what (Y/N) had told him, the trauma she experinced. “They conducted several experiments on her. One of them involved an ancient stone.”

“An infinity stone?” Bruce asked.

“She didn’t specify.”

“You didn’t ask her more about it?” He pressed.

“Did I ask her to recount in explicit detail what were objectively the worst moments of her life? No, I did not,” Damian’s glare returned.

“Okay, okay,” Dick motioned to them both to cool down. “Tales of omnipotent witches make great stories to tell around the campfire, B, but you’re telling me you created a whole contingency plan based on hearsay? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Because it’s not hearsay. According to Constantine, there is a whole chapter dedicated to The Scarlet Witch in the Darkhold.” On hearing this, Damian's shoulder’s tensed. “It is also referred to as the book of the-”

“Damed,” cut in Damian and everyone’s attention set on him.

“You’re familiar with the darkhold?” asked Bruce.

“Unfortunately,” Damian rolled his eyes. “Grandfather went through great lengths in attempt to attain the legendary book.”

“Hold on, why would Ra’s want some scary sounding book in the first place?” Dick scrunched his eyebrows in confusion.

“Legend surrounding the book claimed that it gave whoever possessed the book great power or it would amplify your own if you already possess it,” Damian shrugged. “It was also said to contain knowledge of dark magic but none of it came without a price. The book was said to corrupt anything and everything it touches. At least according to legend. But that’s all this is, legend. The book doesn’t exist.”

“But it does,” said Bruce. “And according to the darkhold, The Scarlet Witch is supposed to be a myth.”

“Then why do you have this file? Why are we even having this conversation? What did (Y/N) do to deserve this kind of treatment? She’s only ever shown you kindness!”

“This isn’t personal, Damian,” Bruce slowly approached his son but it only caused him to back away instead. “From what we’ve seen, (Y/N) fits the profile. The possibility is too strong for me to ignore. It’d be reckless and foolish of me to not prepare for the worst, especially considering your relationship with her.”

Although Bruce said his words with genuine sincerity, it didn’t help Damian feel any better.

“She’d never hurt me,” Damian defended. “She’d never hurt anyone.”

“What about Dr. Light?”

“That was one time!” Damian pointed at Bruce.

“She didn’t just remove the air from his lungs, she temporarily rewrote their function. He described it as feeling as if his body was rejecting the air while simultaneously needing it. In his words, it was both excruciating and terrifying.”

“He still breathes now, doesn't he?”

“Damian-”

“Woah, wait, Bruce,” Dick called to him from the computer. Apparently while Bruce and Damian were talking, he was sifting through the files. “This contingency plan is reading more like an outline, it’s not complete.”

“Until I know the full extent of her power or find out of any limitations the plan will remain unfinished. She’s half Tamaranean but due to her powers what would normally weaken a Tamaranean does not affect her. As of now, our best bet would be Zatanna’s magic to counteract her own. If she is who I think she is, anything I throw at her would be useless.”

“Wow,” Dick sighed as he leaned back in the chair and took in this information. It wasn’t often Bruce felt like he didn’t have many options to consider. Needless to say, he was feeling the gravity of the situation. “Wait, did you just say she rewrote Dr.Light’s lung functions?”

“Who cares? He was a villain anyways. (Y/N) would never do anything to hurt us,” argued Damian.

“Maybe not intentionally. But who is to know what could happen once she unlocks her full potential. At the moment, her ignorance benefits both her and the fate of this universe,” Bruce reasoned.

“What if it’s the opposite? What if by telling her what we know it helps steer her in the right direction?”

“Or inadvertently lead her in the wrong direction. Right now the less she knows, the better,” Bruce closed the files on the computer as if to conclude the discussion.

“Says you, father. I do not agree,” Damian turned to leave the Batcave, ignoring the calls and demands of his father.

____________________________________

Damian made his way to one of the balconies of the manor and pulled out his phone and called (Y/N). After about three rings he received a rather groggy hello and he mentally scolded himself as he forgot all about the time difference.

“Sorry beloved, did I wake you?”

“You did but it’s you so it is a welcomed intrusion,” she giggled. “How are you, is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” he paused and (Y/N) waited for him to continue but he didn’t.

“Are you sure? You seem a little,” she pondered for the word, “distressed.”

Normally he loved how she knew him so well but the moment he felt as if it was backfiring on him.

“I am- I mean, I am fine it’s just… we reached a stalemate in the case.”

“It seems as if you’ve been working on it for very long hours, perhaps a break would help to refresh your mind?”

“I thought the same as well.”

“And did it?”

“Did it what?”

“Refresh your mind,” she chuckled. “Dami, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah- yes I just,” he sighed, he couldn’t do it. “I miss you, beloved. I’m sorry this case is taking longer than expected. This case ruined the plans I made for us for the week but I will still try to make it this weekend for our anniversary.”

“I miss you too, Dami. I really wish you were here but your father needs you and I completely understand the situation. Just come back to me in one piece okay, promise?”

If only Damian could see the dopey, heartfelt smile he adorned on his face.

“I promise, beloved. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she lethargically sighed. “I’ve just been a little tired. I was having some stupid nightmares that were not really letting me sleep these past two days.”

“Apologies beloved, now I feel really bad for waking you up,” he groaned.

“No, no, it is fine. Really, they seemed to have stopped tonight, thankfully.”

“Do you wanna talk about them?”

(Y/N) hummed in thought and he could hear shuffling on her end.

“You don’t have to but you know you can talk to me. I want to know what ails you, perhaps I can help.”

“I just,” more shuffling, “I just didn’t want to alarm you or the Titans.”

“Why would it alarm us?”

“Well, you know that sometimes my dreams prove to be quite prophetic but only sometimes, it is not always the case.”

Damian hummed in agreement.

“Well, in this nightmare for some reason the Titans were battling me. The reason was never revealed and I always woke up before something catastrophic happened. But… the way they looked at me… the way you looked at me… like I was some monster… I would never purposely do anything to hurt you or the Titans. I do not know why my subconscious created such a horrible story…”

“It was just a dream, beloved. A very bad dream. We would never turn on you and we know you wouldn’t turn on us.”

“I know… like I said, it was just a stupid dream. But thank you for listening and the reassurance.”

“I’ll reassure you as many times as you need but for now I’ll let you sleep.”

“Alright, but you better go to bed soon, okay? You are three hours ahead of me so I know it is very late there.”

“I will,” he chuckled. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Dami. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

With their goodbyes said, Damian finally hung up the phone and if he were to be honest, with the information he was just given, he was a little alarmed. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that (Y/N) would never hurt him, the team, or anyone for that matter. Still, he understood his father’s plan and now agreed that perhaps the less she knew the better. Although he refrained from telling her of what he discovered, he never lied throughout their conversation. He deeply missed her and he was sure of two things. One, that whether or not the case was solved he was going back to the Titans Tower, for at least the day of their anniversary. And two, that he was going to do everything in his power to prohibit her from becoming The Scarlet Witch.

A/N: I kinda tinkered with the powers of the darkhold here to fit the story a lil better but nothing too dramartic. I’ve had this idea of Batman having a contingency plan for you since you’re so powerful for such a long time and i thought it was kinda funny lol hope you enjoyed. Feedback is appreciated! Have a lovely day <3

History

Edit: forgot to mention y’all are 18-19 here so next part y’all will likely be like 19-20

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #Damian Wayne #scarlet witch reader #damian wayne x scarlet witch reader #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing

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crossdressingdeath · 1 year

Text

Man, falling back in love with Soren's whole character has me once again mad about Morrigan's moral stupidity. It drives me nuts that you never get the opportunity to properly call her on how her "pragmatism" is just an excuse to do shitty things! Like, it's okay that she's kind of a bad person, but the way she masks it as "pragmatism" and you never really get to point out that it's very much not that is one of the most annoying things about her. Like... she approves of leaving the people of Redcliffe to get murdered by undead. Why? She doesn't want to get involved, it's not your fight... except it is. You need Arl Eamon's forces. You can't get to Arl Eamon without going through the village. It's not pragmatic to abandon the people fighting for their lives to their fates, because you have to go back through the village either way. If they die you just don't have their support when you have to fight your way to the castle. There is zero benefit and zero avoidance of danger for you, because leaving them to die won't solve the underlying issue of you having to get past the undead! The pragmatic decision is actually to help the villagers! Either Morrigan is so blind to the reality of the world that she doesn't realize that this isn't a situation you can just walk away from, or she just wants to let a bunch of people die because she can and is trying to hide that behind the shield of "pragmatism". And either option is an interesting bit of characterization! But the way you don't really get to call her on that and her insistence that she's pragmatic is allowed to stand on its own weakens that, and does feel like the first part of her insistence that she knows best in every scene she's in in DAI.

For comparison, Soren also is all for leaving someone to die at one point. The princess of his kingdom, no less! When the mercenary group he serves as strategist for brings her to their headquarters in the aftermath of an attack on the capital only to soon after find themselves surrounded by the forces of the enemy kingdom who staged said attack demanding the mercenaries hand her over, Soren's first suggestion as strategist is to just... do as they say. Give them the princess, let the kingdom fall without a fight, don't get into a super tough battle with an army for someone who isn't even paying for it. The difference is that his reasoning... actually makes sense. As mercenaries their priority should be their own finances, and the princess isn't paying them, so as far as Soren's amoral strategizing is concerned they have no obligation to protect her whether she's the princess or not. Also, their home kingdom is pretty obviously losing the war bigtime and antagonizing the kingdom that looks to be the new top dog and has no reason to want to pick a fight with a powerful mercenary company unnecessarily would be a great way to get the group killed even outside from the fact that they are seemingly hopelessly outnumbered. He doesn't suggest they abandon the princess because he personally doesn't want to help her (I can't remember if he expresses a personal opinion one way or the other), he suggests they abandon her because helping her will likely get them killed with no promise of any sort of reward. Which makes sense, seeing as keeping the group alive, victorious, and in a fit state to keep making money as mercenaries is his job as strategist. His refusal to let things like morals interfere with keeping his people (or at least Ike with the others as a secondary but still important concern) alive is one of my favourite things about him even though Morrigan's "pragmatism" is one of my least favourite things about her, because his decisions make sense. He's pragmatic and mostly amoral in that pragmatism and makes no claims otherwise but his actions and suggestions are usually calculated to benefit him and the people around him, unlike Morrigan claiming things aren't the group's problem when they demonstrably are. That's how you handle a character who is both intelligent and ruthlessly pragmatic! Not "Let's do something incredibly stupid just because it's the Evil Choice".

#dragon age origins #morrigan critical

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soleilnomoon · 2 years

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*lets herself in* the door was unlocked. —Anyway!!— I want to request an arranged marriage/contract marriage AU where Character A has a deep dark secret that Y/N knows and she uses it to her advantage not that she needs to since Character A is also into the arrangement for their own benefit. For fandom how about 🤔 Aki from Chainsaw Man. Or like in the words of a great philosopher named Miss once said: you can flip it turn it and reverse it. Whatever suits you. Xx fall in love 💋

ily so much 💋 thank u for being patient w. my slow slow writing; i had to cut myself off bc this was gonna get long, u already know what time it is w. me ૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა

3k, fem reader, sfw - but it's suggestive, 18+ mdni, a lil angsty; arranged marriage/contract marriage au; aki is a brat, we all know this - and ofc y/n doesn't know when to shut up. this might be a series who knows... note: decided to make this a short series called "all the devils are here" so this will be chapter 01: occlude. index | next ⤹

as the matriarch, his grandmother often told him that the key to succeeding in a family like theirs — one that is rife with blackmail, blood money, and barely tolerable relatives — is to always be several steps ahead; to have a plan with a backup plan, and a backup plan for that backup plan. hayakawa aki is well versed in the art of planning; he learned the skill early on in his childhood, finding it absolutely necessary in order to navigate the treachery of his large family. there were several smaller branch families, but they do not have the reach and power that the main family has — which is just as well, there’s no need for that many people to have influence around the country.

with their hands tied heavily in finance — both in the public and private sectors — over the past decade or so, they’ve made their move into politics. an inevitable choice, as they have enough members in their family to make their vision a reality. as the eldest of his parents’ children, it’s been decided that aki is to marry within the following year — to continue the family name, to further their legacy as much as he can. it’s awfully archaic and terribly trite, so naturally he’s against it from the very beginning.

“i don’t see the point,” he says one morning, sipping coffee — the kitchen spacious and cold, with a minimalist design. it’s located in the main house on his family’s absurd and expansive estate. “marriage, that is. i’m too young.” he isn’t; he’s at the age where it’s time, but aki doesn’t care for following any path that doesn’t make sense to him — especially when it means his movements will be heavily monitored, possibly even dictated for him.

his father remains quiet, his lack of input is why aki is precisely in the situation he’s in now. his mother, on the other hand, leans against the kitchen island, a well-rehearsed sigh drifting from her lips. “not this again,” she says wearily, as if the very thought of entertaining this conversation is a troubling matter for her — which isn’t too far from the truth. “we’ve already signed the paperwork, what’s done is done.” she leaves little room for argument, and aki doesn’t press her. his dark eyes land on hers critically, but he just sips the rest of his coffee and contemplates his next course of action.

where aki absolutely detests the idea of being tied down, you’re more than happy; it actually happens accidentally, or, it appears that way. your older sister’s sudden disappearance pushes you to the forefront, making you the next in line to carry the torch for your family.

you’ve seen him before, he’s well-known not just because of his family name, but because he’s notorious for having short-lived relationships with people from equally powerful families. he barely shows affection, can seem entirely closed-off, uncaring, even. it was as if they were accessories to whatever outfit he was wearing whenever they went out; the true definition of doing things for appearances.

you know more about him than necessary, and, sure, maybe you have a tiny crush — he is handsome, after all — but you know better than to believe there’s any possibility of reciprocation. not when there are other people of higher social standing around for his choosing.

“i am so, so sorry,” your father repeats, head hanging as he tries his best to placate mr. and mrs. hayakawa. they’re sitting stiffly on the sofa, backs straight, their tea untouched on the coffee table before them. your mother clears her throat which only prompts your father to apologize again. you’re not meant to really be seen — the hayakawas aren’t too pleased that the bride they chose for their eldest son is nowhere to be found. the son in question leans against the wall, hands in pockets as he surveys the room before him.

it’s gauche, not to his liking, but much more authentic than his parents’ home; maybe that’s what compels him to cut his mother off before she opens her mouth to lash out at your parents.

“her,” aki says in a crisp voice, one that commands your attention almost immediately. you blink slowly, unsure if he meant to say that or not.

“her?” his mother asks, voice shrill, appalled at her son’s brashness.

“mhm.” aki moves off of the wall, his long legs carrying him over to you fairly quickly. you’re not sure what to do, so you just smile nervously, hoping this isn’t some big joke or ploy somehow. he looks you over, eyes trailing down your body, and while you’re sure it’s meant to be just a general assessment, you can’t help but feel like you’re a slab of meat and he’s the butcher. it should frighten you, really it should; but it doesn’t, and that’s a chilling thought.

moistening your lips with your tongue, you decide that enough is enough; your parents don’t need to continue shouldering a blame that isn’t their fault — not entirely, anyway.

“you’ll do,” he says after a moment, nodding to himself and swiveling on his heels. “we’ll send movers to drop by in the afternoon.”

it’s brilliant, really; he couldn’t have planned it better himself. he’d fully intended on just attending this makeshift meeting for appearances, but when he saw the way his parents were wholly uninterested in hearing your parents’ side, it just… bothered him. so, as a bit of a fuck you to his grandmother and his parents, he opted to choose you, instead. his mother’s face was priceless — his lips curl upwards as he hides his mirth behind a closed fist and a cough.

you can’t believe it’s happening; he chose you, and while you’re not sure of his exact reasoning, this works in your favor.

“o-okay,” you say quietly, nodding, unable to find fault with his words. it’s better this way, for things to move quickly, rather for them to drag out. that’s what happened to your sister; she had too much time to think and found a way to escape her fate. you’re not the dream-chasing sort, you want to live a relatively normal life as best as you can — and aki doesn’t seem like the kind to impose impossible expectations on his spouse, or, that’s what you’re telling yourself as you look at his retreating form. as usual, he’s in all black attire; you’ve noticed that about him, that he refuses color for some reason — and if there is another color, it’s as an accent, nothing more.

you want to ask him why he dresses that way; you want to ask him why he looks as if he’s fed up with the world and also bored with life itself; you also want to ask if he really actually wants to marry you, or if he’s just using you. the thought gives you pause; if he finds you unuseful, will he call off the engagement? you didn’t intend on dredging up secrets, of unburying skeletons and revealing truths, but you will if you have to. it just so happens that you have one that will ensure that aki follows through on this marriage one way or another.

the movers come promptly at four; there are things you leave behind, but it doesn’t matter, your mother assures you that your fiancé can buy you more. you want to tell her that that’s not the point, but you don’t bother. after a short goodbye — since aki also sent a drive to come get you as well — you make the long drive to the hayakawa estate, your nerves getting the best of you as you fidget with the sleeve of your thin cardigan. everything will be fine, you remind yourself, albeit nervously, what’s the worst that can happen?

and, naturally, you imagine the worst; aki kicking you out on your ass, paparazzi capturing every embarrassing moment, your sister appearing at the final minute to show that she was also in on it. it’s all very cruel, and you can’t help but close your eyes and press your lips together firmly, willing those images to go away. your sister would never do that, you know she wouldn’t; but a part of you can’t help but wonder. she didn’t say much before leaving, if anything it felt like a normal morning, but she was definitely a little off — you couldn’t put your finger on it, but you knew instinctively that something was going to happen.

the hayakawa estate is formidable, the manor even more so; from the weathered brick, to the winding driveway, to the neatly trimmed hedges and manicured lawns; there’s a fountain — three, actually — with a statue of sorts, the water pouring out at an impressive rate, making a perfect arch, stray droplets splashing off to the side.

this is what they do with their money, you muse before exiting the car, stretching and yawning softly. you remember to keep your movements delicate and demure, to appear every bit the well-mannered, capable bride-to-be that your mother desperately sculpted you into — even though you are far from it. but they hayakawas don’t need to know that; all they need to see is how compliant you are, and then you’ll have the luxury of living the life you’ve wanted. away from your parents, away from their expectations, petty comments, and harsh critiques. your sister also wanted to get away, she just chose a more extreme option than you did.

you’d rather have things easy, with minimal stress and even less drama.

they escort you to the main living room, the cushions on the plush sofa softer than you original thought they’d be. you sink into the seat comfortably before aki enters the room, his eyes glued to his cellphone, lithe fingers flying across the screen as he types out a long text. he barely looks at you before he sits down on the armchair adjacent to you. a long stretch of silence passes between you, minutes feel like hours and you clasp your hands together in front of you, laying them neatly on your lap as you wait for him to say something.

it seems, though, that your fiancé is determined to make this as difficult as possible, which pisses you off a little. clenching your jaw, you try another tactic — clear your throat gently, appear every bit as cordial and sweet as you need to be, and smile at him.

“um, i don’t think we’ve actually been properly introduced,” your face flushes as you speak; you realize you’re out of your element dealing with him. he glances up at you, just briefly, before casting his eyes lower and focusing on his phone again.

“it’s not important,” he says at last, words laced with boredom.

you stare at him, mouth parted, your thoughts racing as you try to calm yourself. it won’t do for you to get upset; if you do then he’ll have the upper hand and he might terminate the engagement before the day is over. you can’t have that. so you switch tactics.

with your voice lowered, you fix him with a cool stare. “i know your secret,” you say confidently, head tilted as you take in the slight shift in his expression — his eyebrows lift just so, mouth twitching at the corners, eyes settling on you again except this time he really looks at you. his stare is intense, scrutinizing, but there’s also a faint flicker of amusement.

“is that so?” he leans forward, making you tense immediately. “well, go on, what’s this secret of mine? if it’s about zoe, that’s been debunked as a drunk rumor on her part.” she was obsessed with him and liked to tell people that he left her at the altar, even though he’s never even been remotely close to dating her.

he’s calling your bluff, and doubts you know anything concrete. you don’t like that he isn’t taking you seriously, so you inhale deeply before speaking again.

“it’s about my sister.” the subsequent silence that descends upon the room is thick enough to choke you both. aki narrows his eyes at you, the brief moment where he eased up has vanished completely; something about the way he’s looking at you makes you squirm in your seat. you’re not sure if it’s because he actually makes you nervous or because you know that you’re not really nervous or afraid of him at all.

a harrowing truth that you will fight tooth and nail to keep hidden.

“go on,” he says gruffly, annoyance evident in his hawkish gaze, thick eyebrows sloping downward as if he’s finally seeing you for the first time — the real you. if you weren’t so intent on putting yourself on equal footing with him, you’d get lost in the elegant shape of his mouth, the sharpness of his jaw, the curled lashes that frame his eyes. even more devastating in person, you may have underestimated your attraction to him. still, you’ll persevere and see this through.

swallowing hard, you remind yourself to be brave, and continue. “you…”

he lets out a ragged breath, clicking his tongue in a dismissive manner as he goes back to his phone. “you’re boring me,” he says blithely, which propels you to blurt out the remainder of the secret.

“you helped sneak her out of the country so she wouldn’t have to marry you.” you’re not too sure why he did it, but you have a few running theories.

aki puts his phone down on the short coffee table and stands up — he towers over you even as he leans down, his face a few inches away from yours. “now that’s a very interesting secret you’ve found out.” he’s impressed, actually. no one else knows — save for one other — and he didn’t peg you as the type to snoop around. your sister said as much to him, that you wouldn’t suspect a thing. it’s laughable to him, the idea that he’d get caught that quickly.

“i won’t tell anyone,” you say in a rush, the words tripping over your tongue, breath still as his lips curve upwards and tug into a sly smile. “i promise.” your voice grows quiet, which is wholly unlike you; you’re normally much more interactive, but you know if you don’t follow the script you’ve been fed, you’ll end up back home. you can’t let that happen.

“oh, i know you won’t,” his amusement returns as his large hand grabs onto your forearm, “you’ve got too much to lose.” aki yanks you up to your feet, a small squeal coming out of your mouth at his touch — you didn’t expect him to be this handsy so early on; he’s normally much more reserved, choosing not to embrace others in public. you suppose behind closed doors it’s much different for him.

“wh-what do you mean?” you look around to make sure no one else is around, voice a harsh whisper as you step closer to him. “don’t you care that i know?” you want to lay down your terms, that you require him to follow through on the marriage or else you’ll tell everyone about his involvement in your sister’s disappearance.

part of the reason why he left your house so quickly was because of one simple thing: he couldn’t bear to look at you for longer than a few seconds. it’s bizarre, unheard of, and absolutely maddening. your sister is exceptionally beautiful, there’s no doubt about that — but there’s a frigidity to her that couldn’t be thawed no matter what; besides, it was expected of both of them to marry. according to his mother, they complement each other so well. but you… you’re so much different, a wild card that was thrown into the game at the last minute. his mother was beside herself, fuming at his decision — he was so very grateful that you offered little resistance to his hasty proposal (if you can call it that).

and now here you are, showing off your teeth; it seems he made a good choice after all.

while you feign innocent, stifle your personality to suit the needs of others, and act demure, he sees right through that. he’s known from the moment he visited your house, when he officially met your parents the first time to discuss the arrangement between him and your sister. she was flighty, irritable, with terrible opinions; you did your best to blend in, to not be seen or heard in the presence of outsiders unless your parents or sister called for you. he found it odd at first, but the more he watched you, the more he understood. just like him, you’re careful, observant, and determined. there’s a small fire inside of you — he knows there is — one that he hopes will burn brightly and fiercely in the near future. that level of unbridled chaos should be cultivated in the right environment; by choosing you, he threw everyone for a loop and now they don’t know what to say or do with him.

it’s perfect. and because you’re so damn stubborn, you’ll play the part you were chosen to play without issue.

if that’s not beauty, he doesn’t know what is.

“no,” he says at last, tugging on your arm so you’ll follow him out of the room, “i don’t care, because i know you won’t tell.” he pauses in his gait and pushes you against the wall, caging you and crowding your space with ease. you try your best to not look affected, but you can’t, it’s much too late for that. aki is displaying an aspect of his personality that you didn’t expect to see. it’s exciting in a way you don’t quite understand just yet.

“don’t worry, i still plan on marrying you. your confession just makes things easier.” his mouth grazes the curve of your ear as he whispers the last bit to you; a shiver travels through your body, your heart beating tirelessly in your chest, making it hard to breathe.

a smirk graces his lips before he gives you space and leaves you to your thoughts. a thought crosses his mind, making him stop and look over his shoulder at you, saying darkly, “i look forward to a happy union between us, y/n. don’t disappoint me.”

#it is done; it took me forever but it's finally here #fic request #chainsaw man imagine #csm imagine #csm x reader #csm x y/n #hayakawa aki #hayakawa aki x reader #hayakawa aki x y/n #aki x reader #aki x y/n #csm fic #chainsaw man #series: all the devils are here

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silviakundera · 2 years

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My rambling spoilerific notes on cdrama A Dream of Splendor:

Not on the same level of Story of Minglan (which was the series that truly hooked me into cdramas) but decent writing, acting, complex & interesting characters, and period drama themes I am personally interested in.

Yes, it would have been improved by allowing the some of the female characters to be explicitly sex workers (as opposed to "official entertainers" who don't have sex) . But it still hit the spot for me, even though it had the potential to be more. The women are really interesting characters who are layered and get to be imperfect people. I love me some media that allows female characters to be strong and smart but ALSO a little jealous and short-sighted and hypocritical -- and those negative moments that we ALL have (because we are human) don't mean the character is not still portrayed as sympathetic and worthy of respect. The female leads have very distinct personalities with their own strengths and weaknesses.

And I'd argue that the writers make it clear that virginity is not required to deserve love & romance - Gu Qingfan doesn't care if Pan'er had already had intimacies before him, Du doesn't find Sanniang less attractive for being divorced with a son, the emperor explicitly knows his empresses had been "married" before & only wants to hide her past status and protect her, doesn't disdain her for it. Song Zhang has canonically been intimate with 2 men and the narrative awards her Strength of Character.

I totally get the frustration with the idiotic misunderstanding/separation of the primary couple 3/4th into the drama. But this is the one case where I GET IT and actually agree with the writers' choice.

The whole point is that the drama hammers in again and again the damage all this institutional sexism does to women (family/spouse rights, court rights, guild rights, legal pariah status, et al). And that despite how much of their society sets up women to HAVE to be dependant on a man to be safe and secure.... not planning for yourself and establishing links & finances outside the men in your life is the very worst situation to be in and should be avoided at all costs.

Pan'er counsels others on this several times but is afterall is just human and giving good advice is easier than applying it to your own life. Again, I find it very human and relateable that she struggles to practice what she preaches. And it is sympathetic and understandable that she takes this big risk and trusts her life partner to back her. They truly ARE partners and he has proven to be dependable.

But the narrative wants to demonstrate WHY in this society it is so dangerous to depend on the attentiveness of a man.

The fact that they need to enter into this risky deal in the 1st place is about institutionalized sexism: they are constrained in what businesses they can operate because of their gender. Pan'er also has her options limited due to her social status from being a former forced-entertainer. Because of their social standing, purchasing a real restaurant would always be precarious. They didn't have 5 good options and picked the worst one - they got a shot at an owner who urgently needed cash and so gave them this chance, under limited and unfavorable conditions.

The narrative makes it clear from the start how the female leads are repeatedly MADE to take risks and drastic gambles that would not be necessary if not for class&gender (with their class informed w gender, divorced woman and performer status). They would have a variety of opportunities to purchase a restaurant if the rules of society weren't set against them. I appreciate how clearly this is demonstrated in the story, even as the audience screams at Pan'er not to make this overconfident misstep.

So it is important for the themes the drama is exploring that our main couples' separation is as foolish and happenstance as possible. It underlines even more how these ladies CANNOT be beholden to a dude making time for them. In parallel to actual, intentional betrayal by fake-nice official Shen, the narrative makes the 2 least sexist & most trustworthy men in the drama have a bad day then get all angsty and self-pitying, running off to go stare solefully at running water and stoically Do Politics and spit blood. And now the ladies have to realize how much they had slipped into depending on these guys and didn't have a safety net of their own making. Even the best dudes are people who their society has given all the power to and they have freedom of movement & choice that you don't. They can just abandon you when Shit Happens.

So yeah, normally stupid misunderstandings & contrived separations make me fastforward or drop a series but here I'm like yaaaaaaaaaaaas GIVE IT ME. FEED ME THAT GENDER POLITICS COMMENTARY MMMMMMMMMM DELICIOUS.

and sorry but I'm not really sorry: i loved that the ladies get back on their feet by ending the feud with ridiculous master of 12. It felt narratively appropriate that they put aside their enemy status in that scenario. Like, obviously comic relief foil was an asshat and they had legit grudges against each other. But his mother was an official-entertainer. He wears this "stain" just like them yet retains his pride just like them. Once we learned that, I was CERTAIN it would pay off narratively that eventually they'd ally. It only benefits the people who orchestrate the pariah status on women to have a former official entertainer & current registered performer feuding w the son of an official entertainer instead of being allies. And that scene where Pan'er is like, fck that why do they get to say Wazi is for inferiors?! This is a beautiful memory for both of us, screw those guys! and he's like....YOURE RIGHT !! 😭 Dreaming of a place where performers are treated with dignity and not degraded. "Mr Chi, do you agree with me to make the changes? " Like Sanniang, he's crass and tactless and too brash and inelegant for polite society. But he and his crew so naturally fall into being "one of them", and it feels right to now have him stand by the ladies' side confronting Gu Qingfan's silent 5th Official coach. He's completely a pathetic joke except in those serious moments that are about their dream of earning respect & proving people wrong.

Yes, they team up with a man but it's meaningful that it's THIS MAN and it's not dependant on a man's love & sustained attention but a formal contract. And they build this found family of misfits, with sweet but bumbling scholar Du added-in. (Du calls them a family when he risks himself for Qingfan!!! 😭) It's a big hot mess but YOUR HONOR I LOVE THEM.

Plus, the night revels painting subplot threads in well as it's made explicit that Pan'er instinctively lied to the emperor not only out of concern about Gu Qingfan but in solidarity to women who were forced into sexualized performance work and then forever reviled for it - she risks herself because Pan'er felt she couldn't give up another former pariah to be degraded and executed for the sin of daring to escape her shackles and gain love & prestige. (The men who force young girls to be trained to dance alluringly for them = totally fine and good noblemen. The girls themselves = unworthy and not chaste!! )

The way master of 12 Chi Pan and Pan'er are initially set up to be enemies is paralleled by the Empress and Pan'er being positioned by others to be on opposing sides until she is made to realize she's attacking the wrong person out of fear & to the convenience of others who think women like them are rotten inside. Their precarious position & greviances are, at heart, the same. Like our female leads, the Empress is not behaving rashly and making desperate, hard calls in a vacuum. Again it is institutionalized sexism that has driven her to these calculated, self-protective moves. "I just wish you could put yourself in another woman's position" "She was once reduced to pariah status too. She knew how helpless it felt. She knew it was not your majesty's fault" - the writing intentionally lets this moment be what finally sways the empress and not politics.

p.s. enjoyed how with mistress Gao they flipped the sexist drama cliche of the jealous girl attacking and ruining the rivals of her betrothal: plot twist, she's actually just a regular person and it was all rumors. She and FL become friends 👌 👌

Is the drama quite idealistic and fairytale, where the ladies triumph and they win over the Eastern Capital? Yep. With some heart warming cheese in the finale. But misogyny is still alive and well today and life is hard enough. Sometimes we need a bit of comforting fairytale. I know it was unrealistic but feel-good catharsis is nice ok. I watch dramas for escape. (And they at least couldn't write the emperor immediately eliminating the pariah class in 1 fell swoop, as that would just be TOO much unrealistic fairytale.)

[acknowledged: the ML's job is super immoral and the justice system he participates in is THE WORST. To enjoy this series u have to be comfortable with the narrative wanting to explore social justice about a very specific topic and leaving the critique of period-typical prisioners treatment to other media to explore. Though at least there is a bit of narrative justice when he himself gets tortured for wrongful charges.]

#dream of splendor #cdrama #is it a perfect drama:NO #is it pure and unproblematic:NO #did i enjoy its earnest attempts #to be a pro feminist take on ancient china cdramas #yes #could have been better #but it treats its female characters w a lot of respect #and when people in the town all pitch in money #in the climax #because paner has earned all of their respect #chefs kiss #cheesy but feel good #idealistic and a bit fairytale #ok a lot fairytale #but ms song bringing final evidence #from music #the profession that shames her #i appreciate it #how the writers try to make it all hang together #they had points to make #a clear story they wanted to tell #honestly the writing is do empathetic to all the female characters #i appreciate that #another series would let the empress be a straight up villian #but the narrative is so sympathetic to them all #even when they make bad choices

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safyresky · 10 months

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😤😮‍💨

I am once again venting below the cut, please enjoy this Jacqueline in the meantime:

GOOD LORD!! CIRCULAR CONVERSATIONS ARE GENUINELY SOOO FRUSTRATING. I've had my new car for a WEEK and for a WEEK it's been the SAME SHIT between the hubbers and the MIL:

He mentions the car bc he's excited about it

She goes on an emotionally charged RANT about how concerned she is that we went and bought this car and how she's worried about all the debt we have and that we won't be able to "just vibe"

He assures her we went over everything (which we did) and that it's affordable for us (it being the bi-weekly payment)

It stops there. He laments to me. I reassure. I boost him the FUCK UP LIKE HE DESERVES TO BE! 😤

He brings up the car again with her in the hopes she'll be like I'm also excited about this for you!!

She instead once more lectures us on debt

He once again reassures her

He comes to me lamenting once more

I am stuck watching this circle and smacking my head against the wall

I love this man so much, and he does NOT deserve the shit his mother is giving him and I VERY MUCH DISLIKE that he is STILL SEEKING HER APPROVAL. ESPECIALLY BECAUSE WE DIDN'T BUY THE CAR FOR HIM!! WE BOUGHT IT FOR M E AND HE CO-SIGNED BC THE PAYMENT IS CHEAPER AND HE IS VERY EXCITED THAT WE HAVE A NEW, RELIABLE VEHICLE THAT IS SAFE FOR ME! HE'S HAPPY I'M SAFE!

And he's NOT explaining this bit to his Mom, and keeps being like w/e her opinion doesn't matter

BUT THEN THEY HAVE THIS CONVERSATION AGAIN

AHHHHHH

I hate circular arguments y'all. They make me want to explodE. My entire morning/afternoon has been reassuring the hubbers and trying to point out how the convo is circular bc he's looking for her approval and excitement but she is looking for Something Else BC she's worried about our finances. Guys, imma be real with you. This is an affordable payment for us. It's literally only coming out of MY PAYCHECK since it's MY CAR and they BOTH seem to be forgetting that and it's causing this stupid discussion that won't end until either:

He tells her he's heard her concerns and asks her what she's looking for (since despite his reassurances and walking her thru the process we went thru last weekend and showing her the numbers and how it all works out fine she STILL keeps voicing her concerns, to the point where I haven't even talked with her about it but am dying to yell WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE US TO DO MARGE, GET RID OF THE CAR??? Because really, what WOULD you like us to do and it's presumptuous of you to assume we can't handle it and will need your help)

He tells her he's heard her concerns and asks her to just listen to his and please show some excitement because he's excited about it, so why can't you be

They let it die and never talk about it again the end OR

He understands that this is another one of those Margie being Margie scenarios and he's not gonna get her approval or excitement, and accepts that all he needs in this scenario is his OWN acceptance and excitement, and find a way to be OKAY with that

And I don't know how LIKELY any of these are going to be in the near future (and dw, I texted him that blurb already so hopefully it's on his mind and he makes good choices, good choices being either 1 or 4 bc this isn't gonna get resolved any time soon with my MIL's old fashioned REPRESS UR EMOTIONS ass 😤) so I am instead FUMING about situations OUTSIDE OF MY CONTROL bc as an outsider Incan see how it's going and after 4 years of therapy I can see what needs to be done bc I'VE BEEN THERE TOO

This situation has me so down it's making me wanna call and vent to my Mommy and that's how you KNOW it's yucky tbh

#dani speaks #dani vents #i don't often call my mom to vent these days bc she can be very similar to Richard's mom re: ur childs feelings #BUT MY GOD. I AM AT A LIMIT #anyway if u read the vent ty for reading I appreciate it 🩷#we'll be okay! i know Richard will read those options and see what's going on and choose what works best for the time being #BUT MY GOD WATCHING THE CROSSFIRE?? IS STRESSFUL #I'M LIKE #THIS IS SO STUPID GUYS PLZ #anyway if anyone wonders why I wrote blinter the way I did #THIS IS WHY. I THINK PARENTS SHOULD MAKE UP WITH THEIR ADULT CHILDREN AND UNDERSTAND THE TRAUMAS AND THINGS #AND BE SUPER SUPPORTIVE #I THINK PARENTS NEED TO STOP THE AGE OLD HANDING OVER OF TRAUMA TO THE KIDS #GENERATIONAL TRAUMA IS AO FRUSTRATING AND SO EASILY AVOIDABLE BUT IT DOES ENOUGH DAMAGE THAT IT KEEPS GOING!#FUCK THE CYCLE ALL MY HOMIES HATE THE CYCLE #and if anyone is wondering. i am VERY excited about the new car #being able to drive again without breakdown anxiety and in a car that isn't crumbling to dust around me #is STELLAR! I WANT TO CRY HAPPY TEARS! I HAVE MY FREEDOM BACK! THE MONEY WE'LL SAVE ON SUDDEN REPAIRS #IS GONNA BE SO NICE #I'm 😭😭😭#it's just so reliving and I feel so annoyed that MIL doesn't see it like that and is focusing on 'startung ur marriage out in debt'#sweetie. I've been paying student loans for 5 years. We were ALREADY starting with debt and our payment plan is FINE #WE HAVE JOB SECURITY #OTHERWISE I WOULDN'T HAVE DONE IT #AND IF WE SUDDENLY DON'T #WE SELL ONE OF THE CARS #Boom. done.#ANYWAY. IMMA GO GROCERY SHOPPING NOW #BC I CAN BC MY CAR IS RELIABLE!! AH!#out of context jacquelines

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duckbeater · 1 year

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Journal Entry / Those Who Stay

A previous version of this post included the title supplements “(The Butcher of Loneliness, pt. 2; [Courtship, pt. 5]),” which made the top aggressively ugly and also abstruse. None the less, one should consider this entry as the fifth in a much-dislocated series. —The Editors

—

A stranger messaged me the other day, congratulating me on my Anne Carson tour. It seems I’d avoided her for two decades and then this last month [November] I read most of her work and posted about it, indiscriminately, nearly every night, on my IG story. Obv the accolades piled in, unstoppable. Indeed, I read most of her books in the span of two weeks—whatever I could find at the booksellers or online or through resellers, eager for her matter-of-fact eloquence on Greek historians, Proust’s long “fairy tale,” and then the remarks on Woolf (and why? I’ve barely read thru Swann’s Way). I was walking nearly 12 miles a day like the city varmint they track on TikToks. These were long walks to wear me down and they filled my heels with a bolting pain that pulsed, even in bed, even after taking many ibuprofen. I became lean like varmint, too. Running was an absolute nightmare but I ran anyway and obv you know this.

What did I imagine Carson wrote versus what does she actually write? | thought she occupied herself with academic exercises—frosty, formal reports from the edge of translation, with some personal assaying inside. Crone’s notes; old lady vibes; sententious from her years collecting the high-finance prizes. (Thus I am both stupid and sexist.) I liked Autobiography of Red in grad school but couldn't follow the plot. [Falling out of the plot is a great fear of mine.] Her compendium of chapbooks, Float, has flashes of Frank O’Hara’s chatty list poems (“Eras of Yves Klein” and “How to Like ‘If I Told Him: A Completed Portrait of Picasso’ By Gertrude Stein”), and a very funny aside on style in “Merry Christmas from Hegel”: “You will forgive me if you are someone who knows a lot about Hegel or understands it, I do not and will paraphrase badly, but I understood him to be saying he was fed up with popular criticism of his terrible prose.” Ancient playwrights made themselves known as ghostships do by creaking thru fog. These encounters were diverting but not fastening, perhaps because they were, let’s be frank, scraps, one-offs, anecdotes, whose audience could be best described as friends and family. What was her deal with the Brontës? The difficulty with pronouns? I wasn’t family yet. I hadn’t read enough. I was a younger man. My circumstances changed. I was presumed to fall out of love, pathetically so. I fell back in love with someone who didn’t love me back—a feeling whose use-value accounts for a world literature rich in sympathetic losers. It was an excellent time to read one Anne Carson.

She writes a lot about not getting what you want. I discovered, with Glass, Irony & God, that she’s never found peace with the lover who abandoned her (“It is stunning... when one’s lover comes in and says I do not love you anymore”) and that her oeuvre may well be a perduring dialog with that loss. In Plainwater, published the same year, she opens her “Anthropology of Water” by prefacing, “Water is something you cannot hold. Like men. I have tried. Father, brother, lover, true friends, hungry ghosts and God, one by one all took themselves out of my hands”; and in the ominous poem “New Rule” from Men in the Off Hours, “The night of hooks?// The man blade left open on the stair?/ Not enough spin on it, said my true love/ when he left in our fifth year.” Then in Decreation, re the Bloomsbury set, with its members at last in matrimonial equipoise, Carson shits on the premise of their futurity:

I wonder if they paused to look at each other, these mated and unmated people, on the exposed plane of an ordinary moment of that curious, heavy, historic, wrong day. Sudden feeling of oldness. Black upland wind. Bring a coat, they had been told, and a piece of smoked glass. It will get cold. It will hurt your eyes. Totality is lightless, and should be colourless, yet may intensify certain questions that hang at the back of the mind. What is a spouse after all? Will this one stay, can this one keep me alive?

I mean, it wasn't exactly a great time to be alive. Two world wars, bad cures for cancer, and the ungenial environment for genius women. Still, you get the sense her worry’s sincere; she wants these aristocratic oddballs to find some warmth, some flame of reason. Carson’s apocalyptic scene-setting puts me in mind of Bo Bartlett's Dreamland, a painting full of strange celebrants on their way from a wedding. They are curious, serious, strolling up a hill. A few appear to look back at their viewers. There’s a bride, a pilot, a priest, a baby with a crown; a lady rich in her furs; and leading them all, a fool.

—

In The Paris Review, Carson describes a childhood moving past fixed friendships as her father moved from bank to bank in Canadian backwaters. Uprooted every few years, she regarded her schoolmates as bad bets; better to shy away from relations whose half-life guaranteed painful, present decay. (These are facts. My mom suffered same as a preacher’s daughter, leaving midwest ministries every three years or so for the next Methodist parsonage. I asked her what that was like, and she said, “I was always learning new rules. I never understood them. What music people liked. How I should dress. What was funny. I made good grades and was very pretty but was teased constantly because I was quiet and the minister was my dad and I tried always to be nice. I felt very alone.” Another comp: Anne Carson’s father and my mother’s father both died of premature, catastrophic, late-stage Alzheimer’s.)

When you’re young, you learn how to keep people close: you learn to trust that they last and even if they don’t last, you at least learn that faculty of trust (that people stay), which is a kind of peace. Trust-breakers remain outliers. They do not pertain to a worldview of paralyzing detachment. But “I’ll be leaving,” thought Carson; “this won’t last.” Her work continually makes evident that it has never resolved, never made sense of leaving, and that she has never learned enough from it to move on. Further, her work emphasizes that she has chosen not to move on. That, sometimes, choosing obsessive disappointment is as liberating and galvanizing as choosing what we superficially call “freedom.” “I’ve avoided enlightenment resolutely,” she says. “As it is, I’m just sad.”

In her brother’s epitaph, Carson includes Michael’s note admonishing her, “Don’t go back to the farm don’t go alone,” and, “Put the past away you have to.” The siblings were not only worlds but timescales apart. He wrote from Copenhagen where he was hard-scrabbling, existing on cigarettes and shopkeeping—but wifed-up—still, insect-pinned to a crime he committed in 1978 and never going home. Meanwhile, Anne led university students in Michigan through cases of Attic Greek (nominative, accusative, genitive, dative, and vocative) and composed odd poems about ruined expectations. On the one hand, several millennia of precedent: Simonides of Keos, Herodotos, Sokrates [her characteristic spelling favors a k where other scholars rely on the less economic ch], Archilochos, Augustine, Basho, Sartre. On the other, she inhabited estranging tactics: Is this a poem or prose translation? Is this a poem or academic gloss? Is this a poem or… opera? And then too the voices of dead starlets, Free French mystics, Romanian-born/German-language suicides, and (famously, for Anne Carson) Sappho. Her brother wrote “don’t go back” and “put the past away” but seemed sorely oblivious to her present case. Up stakes? From where? How can you return to where you’ve never left? How do you come back from where you’ve never gone, etc. (I’m asking for myself.)

Alice, a character in Complicite’s Mnemonic, tells her ex-lover Virgil, “You have to wait now and this time you follow,” crazing him. “Can you hear the inherent contradiction in that?” he reports to a friend, continuing:

You have to wait and follow. It’s impossible. And I suddenly realized what’s happening to her . . . What’s going on is that she’s feeding back on herself. It’s feedback, turbulence. Her internal state is like weather. Our internal lives are a mystery. We don’t even know what causes us to sleep. My doctor can tell me I’ve got insomnia but he doesn’t know how or why.

I write that Anne Carson has never made sense of leaving, never moved on, and yet her formative years were spent in transit, dislocated, grasping and still removed. In her “Praise of Sleep,” she ends remarks on Elizabeth Bishop, Virginia Woolf, The Odyssey, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, and Plato’s Krito with an ode whose last line reads: “Exit wound, as they say.�� I consider this a hypothetical—a pretense—of feeling, because she hasn’t exited. Anne Carson is standing stock-still on blue icy hinterlands in dark Ontario. Others left, she stayed, and the wound (this is odd to say—actually, it’s certainly painful to write)—the wound is that we stay. If we exit, maybe we can find a goddam bandage or two. If we exit, maybe we can avoid further harm? In a play, as in life, exits create new scenes. You actually have to leave to move elsewhere, to move on. Acknowledging this is obv v silly but that doesn’t make it wrong. I corrected a friend on the same matter a few days ago: “This is not a metaphor.”

“An epitaph is a way of thinking about death and gives consolation,” says Carson, in The Economy of the Unlost. “Salvation occurs, through the act of attention that forms stone into memory, leaving residue of greater life. I am speaking subjectively. There is no evidence of salvation except a gold trace in the mind.”

Here my patience quavers.

Memory isn’t stone; it’s a blood sponge with connective neural byways and low electric activity. And gold is not found in persons whatsoever—not the element [unless thru surgery]—and only meekly by virtue of right action, as a simile, and a tired one.

—

[The sorrow of] unrequited love compels its sufferers to do strange things. Sometimes monstrous things. Of course requited love feeds upon its own vagaries—obsessive texting; fucking in closets at parties; betraying your right conscience to do wrong things (e.g, the one time I went on a big gay camping trip while my grandmother died, not too far away, to shore up my relations with a man. My brothers, who’d flown in to comfort my mother, found my absence unspeakably bizarre). Success in love absorbs these bursts of mania and incorporates them rather too smoothly into the usual narratives of banal romantic triumph. A rehearsal dinner’s tear-stained anecdotes; the party fodder; nostalgia. And despite the severity of love’s work in these broken measures, the idiocy of courtship (and situationship and relationship) have become a civic pastime—a tax some lucky ones pay to perdure in the dreamscape of public life as married, home-owning child-bearers.

You have to be absolutely nuts. Just out of your mind. You have to be so accommodating, nearly incorporeal, to integrate another’s habits and tastes. Their family—and that family’s customs? You have to know how much regular sex to expect, and money, and if perhaps you care to swing when you travel? Obviously I could not. But then, the happily-in-love don’t write essays on love. They bask cage-jawed behind love’s silencing muzzle. The happily-in-love are editors or novelists or reporters. There are no stings for them, no impalements, and they are galvanized to look elsewhere for the stories of their day. They’re great gossips, for instance, in the miseries of the unloved, because the unloved bring them news.

[fragment ends]

#anne carson

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