#the tone and such. Also first post of the year that's some pressure man

[twilightarcade]

AND THEREFORE I NEVER LIE

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // epilogue

summary: a few years later...

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n:

here it is :) the epilogue :)

(i'm crying, could you tell??) i figured it was time to post this now that we've officially entered the overlapping requiem/michigan cherry era. tbh i was just afraid to let these two go bc i love them so much.

thank you all again SO so much for all the love on this fic. it has truly meant everything to me that so many people came on this actual JOURNEY with me, i never intended this to be so long but here we are.

anyway, stick around for requiem!! and i hope you loved this if you made it this far!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

You were all dressed up in one of your finest gowns, attending the gala that preceded the presidential election.

Coriolanus was running, of course, and you were so incredibly proud. He's worked toward this for years, and you had been there every step of the way since the tenth annual Hunger Games, all those years ago. It felt like a distant memory- albeit one that still haunted you regularly.

You were a whole new person. A Capitol citizen most of the year, and you were happy most of the time. You and Coryo had always gone home in the summers, though, to spend your days surrounded by friends and family under the District Twelve sun. You always looked forward to it, but three months never felt like quite enough time. You missed your old life, but that's all it could be now.

While some Capitol elite was talking your ear off about the upcoming games, that's all you can think about. Well, how after the election that your boyfriend would most certainly win, those summers of peace would be a thing of the past. It was hard to think about, which is why you focussed on how you could work around it. Perhaps you would make smaller visits throughout the year- although Coryo was prepping you for the endless tasks that would even be put onto you as the First Lady of Panem. Once he wins the election, he would propose- and it would be followed by the wedding of the century. You didn't know if you dreaded it or if the pressure of it all just scared you beyond what excitement could repair.

"Miss Y/L/N?" Your train of thought is abruptly interrupted and you hum in response, bringing the champagne glass to your lips, acting like you were paying attention the whole time.

"Yes?" You respond as you lower your glass. "My apologies, I just spaced out for a moment there. It's a big day, after all..." You chuckle to recover, tilting your head slightly at them.

"I was just asking if you had any input in the arena for the next Games, if you could give us any hints." The man asks, seemingly impatient with you getting distracted.

"Oh," You reply, smile fading softly. "No, I- I really try to stay out of all of that." You laugh nervously, gripping tighter onto the glass as you take another sip, relieved when you feel someone's hand on your arm.

"Y/N, come sit. Coriolanus's speech is about to start, he got me to save you a seat at my table." Sejanus says, linking his arm with yours.

You politely excuse yourself from the conversation and allow him to pull you away. "Many thanks." You whisper to him, chuckling slightly as you glance back over your shoulder at the older man you were speaking to. "Some people are so tone-deaf, aren't they?"

"Most definitely." He sighs, shaking his head as he guides you toward his table at the front of the banquet hall, close to the stage. "Apparently that will never change."

Sejanus Plinth was your saving grace all these years, that, however, had never changed. You didn't see him as much anymore, with you being locked up in your office in the Snow penthouse focused on writing book after book until you were burnt out. His role as a doctor in and out of the Districts certainly didn't help either, but you knew he was partial to working back home in Twelve so he could spend more time with Lucy Gray. You were glad he was much more fulfilled in his adult life than you were; you always knew he would do well and you were proud. You had to take moments every so often to remind yourself that when you first met him and Coryo, you had been sad that you wouldn't get to see the men they would become but you had wondered. Now, you had your answers.

"Is that not the truth." You scoff under your breath, smiling and giving a quick wave to a few familiar faces as you pass. You had become somewhat of a people-pleasing expert, the same way Coriolanus had.

You sit down at the table at the front of the room just as the lights slightly dim, and the spotlight hits the stage. You gently cross one leg over the other, careful not to wrinkle your dress and clap in just the perfect polite way you had learned how to over the years, smiling as you see Coryo walk up onto the stage.

He waves, and people whistle and clap, and the smile on his face seems a little more genuine than it normally is during these speeches. Of course, though, this is his final address before he no doubt gets voted in as president, and you know that he is excited.

"Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for coming out tonight..." He says, in a subtle cue to get people to quiet down so he could speak, a drink still in his hand that he delicately hovers above the podium next to him. "This has been such an incredible opportunity for both of us running, and I must say, it's been fun." He tips the glass toward the other table at the front, and your eyes follow the movement to the other candidate, your friend and former classmate, Hilarius Heavensbee. They've never gotten along, and you know Hilarius wants nothing to do with this job. Not really. It makes you sad, a little bit, that his family would push him this far when he had confided in you in his freshman year that it wasn't what he wanted.

The man just gives Coryo a polite but nervous smile, taking another sip out of his own champagne glass. From where you were, you could see his hand trembling. You knew he would have to go next, and Coriolanus Snow was always a tough act to follow.

"Now, I am very happy about this turnout, because I have two important announcements to make." He continues, and whispers fill the room. You look over at Sejanus, a slight look of shock on your face. You didn't know he had anything special to announce, and he always kept you in the loop on everything. Sejanus just shrugs, looking back up at Coryo again. It must not actually be a big deal- it was probably just thanking some more people who have donated to his campaign.

"Firstly," He clears his throat, taking a step to the side as the screen behind him lights up. "For just a moment, see me as your head game maker and forget all about me running for president. Or don't, actually, maybe keep that in mind, but at the back of your mind." He chuckles, the little joke making the audience laugh. He was much more personable now than he once was, you smile a little as you remember helping him write his earlier speeches in a way that would make him more likable. "With the help of my fellow candidate and personal good friend, we are trying something new when it comes to The Hunger Games."

When he speaks, your heart drops and you sit up a little straighter- feeling all eyes on you as you just focus on him. For the first time, he looks down at you and gives you a small smile, the slightest nod in an effort to reassure you that it wasn't as scary as it sounded. You swallow and just keep your smile on as best as you can, ignoring all the stares.

"So, we all love The Games. They're exciting, the stakes are high, and I know every year we all pick our favourite tributes to root for and it's hard to watch them fall but, god, do I know better than anyone how good it feels when they win." Your cheeks burn intensely as Coryo sends a smile and a wink your way, and the screen behind him flashes to a picture of the two of you, taken after your shared university graduation just a couple of years ago. You were both smiling, but he was looking at you as he held you tight around your waist, and you looked into the camera and held up a three-finger salute. People are laughing and awe-ing at the photo of the two of you, and you laugh nervously, looking over at Sejanus with slightly panicked eyes.

You would be absolutely fine with this if he had just run it by you before, and you knew that whether you liked it or not, the Games were an integral part of who you were now, and always would be- but you certainly didn't want your name on anything to do with these new changes they're making. But, he wouldn't be talking about you at all if he knew you would hate it. You had to remind yourself of that.

"So, you all know my beautiful Y/N, of course, we're all big fans of hers here," Coryo says, gesturing to where you were sitting and you let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head at him in a way that would appear teasing to everyone else while he waits for everyone to finish clapping for you. "Don't get embarrassed already, darling, I've got a bit more to say about you so just sit tight, okay? Nothing bad, I promise." He says to you, looking into your eyes even as he stands up on the stage, everyone's laughter echoing in the background.

"So, I have known Y/N and her outstanding mind for years now. The Games are what brought us together when we were both just kids, but you all already know that story so I'll spare you the details. The bottom line is, I am so proud of the woman she has become. She's written two books that will soon become three, she graduated in the top three percent of our class with only a District education to build on, and she is the single most well-spoken, well-mannered, beautiful, and caring woman I have ever met. Truly, she has changed my entire outlook on life." He says, talking more so to the audience than to you, knowing that you're so embarrassed by this. And he would be correct. "It has truly been a privilege to know her, and to love her."

"But that was a long journey for us both, and a seemingly endless uphill battle for her recovery, despite her strength. The Games can be scary, let's be totally honest. It's life or death, and winning will change you, but Y/N came out the other side and wanted to make a difference for her family and that inspired me. And she continues to inspire me every day." Coryo says, pausing to take a sip of his champagne again. "So, all of this is to say, I'd like to thank her for all her support through my education, this campaign, and through the life we're building together. She inspired this idea in me and with the help of my fellow game makers as well as the Plinth family..." You look over at Sejanus as he continues, suddenly realizing he must have known about what was happening. He keeps a small smile on his lips as he watches, refusing to make eye contact with you.

"This," Coryo says, turning to look up at the screen while a picture comes up of a small cul-de-sac of beautiful homes. "Is just the beginning of the Victor's Rehabilitation Initiative."

You tilt your head, a shocked and confused smile on your face as you take in the photo and try to decipher what he's talking about.

"So, recently, Y/N has been more open with everyone about the struggles that came with being crowned a victor in our Games. Yes, they get to walk away with their lives, but what if winning meant something more? What if it meant security for them and their families, so they're not returning to their Districts with no sense of what to do next? That, everyone, is what this program is for. To help the strongest of them find a purpose again, and to encourage the bravest of Panem's children to get back on their feet after such an impressive feat as winning the Games."

You have to very consciously force your jaw to stay shut when you realize what he is saying, clapping along with everyone else while your smile relaxes into something more genuine. You knew that he wanted to abolish the Games altogether, and you knew that no matter who won the election, they wouldn't proceed for much longer. This was the first step in that direction, and you were flooded with emotions. Pride, excitement, relief.

"For ten years, until the beginning of the mentorship program, our victors were cast aside. Never to be heard from again after their win, I, for one, became curious as to what happened to them after the Games as soon as I met Y/N, and I have heard that question from many of you as well since we were all given the pleasure of getting to know her." Coryo's smile is one of pride and excitement, sparing a glance at you as he allows the audience to have their responses. So far, all seemingly positive despite the present undertones of him caring about the people in the Districts. He was a smooth talker, he knew exactly how to command a space and get people to believe what he wanted. And he was using it for good. "I mean, how many other victors have something extraordinary, just like her, that won't be utilized or nurtured? We never knew."

"From now on," He continues, the crowd quieting down. "Our victors will be given homes in what we've decided to call Victor's Villages in each of the Twelve Districts. They'll have ensured security for themselves and their families, and a generous sum of prize money to help them with whatever they need. Whether that's medical attention, both physical and emotional, or, if they so choose, when they reach the appropriate age, they could apply at our university to further their education. Though, between you and I, admittance is not guaranteed." He winks at the end and it's accompanied by laughter, which you try and go along with, but you're too close to tears to even process fully what was going on. This was a huge step in the right direction, even if like he said, acceptance was not guaranteed. "What I mean, is that it will be up to them. They can live their lives to the fullest, just like our gem, Y/N."

He looks at you again, and you can really only see his blurry form through your tears until someone is handing you a handkerchief to dry your eyes while people clap and cheer over the idea.

This was something you couldn't have imagined years ago. This was everything you've wanted since the Games- to make a difference, for people to care. And it was happening right before your eyes. Thanks to him. Thanks to you.

"And with that," Coryo says after a few moments, waiting for the crowd to quiet down after taking in your reaction. "We can move on to my second announcement, which is my formal withdrawal from the presidential campaign."

Gasps fill the room and your smile disappears, a hand coming up to your mouth as you look up at him, shocked and confused with the announcement that blindsided even you.

"Are you happy here?" You ask quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace of the evening as you walk from your parent's house back to your own in the Victor's Village.

"I couldn't be happier." Coryo replies through a soft sigh, swinging your hand gently as it's clasped between you.

"Are you sure?" You say again, feeling a little uncertain despite weeks of his endless reassurance that this was, in fact, what he wanted.

To him, this scenario was perfect. He could keep his job as head gamemaker, planning to only return to the Capitol for a few months or so every year for the Games. He knew that wouldn't last much longer, though, not with Hilarius Heavensbee in office. Coryo gives it a few years and a few major "accidental" mistakes on his part for the viewership of the annual event to die out and open the door for the president to call them off, just like he had always wanted to.

And every day Coryo would wake up to see you in your happy place, the only place you'd ever felt truly at home. He was more than happy to give it all up for the greatest sake of seeing you smile.

"Of course." He smiles, never growing tired of telling you the same thing over and over again if it meant he could ease your mind.

The moonlight bounces off his in a way that makes you think it could be glowing if you didn't know any better.

"I told you that I would be. Years ago. You remember?"

"Of course I remember."

He lets out a breathy laugh at your reply, shaking his head. "That was a foolish question. I don't think you've ever forgotten a single word anyone has ever spoken to you."

"Sure I have." You say, tilting your head as you look up at him, trying to catch the same moonlight reflect in the blue of his eyes as you walk down the path. "I just don't forget... the important bits."

"I will try my best to take care of you while you're here."

"My honest, best advice? Figure out a way to escape."

"I can't have killed them all for nothing."

"You are not a beast."

"Please, don't walk away again."

"I survived because I had to learn to love you."

"Like in your books?" His voice interrupts the swirling of speech from years past, and you shrug.

"Not exactly... it feels different. Because I can hear it, still." You explain, voice dropping into something more quiet as the remnants of your fear eats away at the back of your mind, the cold night breeze imprinting your skin.

"God, the way your mind works, love." He says, and as you look up at him to be met with an expression of pride that always changes everything. "You amaze me every day."

You stay quiet, cheeks getting hot as you look back down at the path.

"Are you happy?" Coryo asks after a moment, eyes never daring to leave your profile as you walk next to him, hardly more than a silhouette in the dark. But certainly more than a ghost, now.

"I am." You reply, the smile creeping back onto your lips. "Such hours are beautiful to live, but hard to describe..."

He hums softly in response. That was a yes, but also a no in the most you fashion possible. His heart remains heavy in his chest knowing that there is nothing more he can do for you to help you heal besides be present. "Is there anything more I can do?" He asks anyway, hoping that maybe you would come up with something.

You shake your head, giving him a tight-lipped smile laced with reassurance.

"Well, then..." He sighs, rather dramatically. "I did have an idea, you know, something that might make you happy. Even just for this one beautiful hour."

You let out a laugh, squeezing his hand a bit. "If that was you asking me if we could-"

"I would like to marry you." He says, for the first time ever, not feeling guilty about interrupting you.

You stop in your tracks, and he stops with you instantly as if he were waiting for it, his hold on your hand not faltering for a second.

"I... you-"

"Darling," He starts, stepping in front of you now, blocking out the moon but hardly putting a dent in the presence of the stars over his shoulders, their soft light reflecting off his blonde curls. "I do love nothing in the world so well as you."

Your shock and confusion begins to wear off as he speaks the familiar words, and you laugh softly. "In your own words, Coryo."

He tilts his head at you, clearly not having expected that kind of response. He expected a lot of things. He planned for everything that could go wrong, he prepared for rejection, for tears, panic, even, but he did not expect that. "I, uh..." He chuckles nervously, giving his head a quick shake to get himself back on track.

He had read that play just for you. Just for this- because he knew how much you loved it, and he remembered the joy it brought you. The smile on your face when you told him about it that day at the lake had never left his mind.

"If you ask me in your own words, I shall say yes." You assure him, hands gripping tighter onto his despite your surprisingly calm demeanor.

"I thought you would like that... You know, knowing you..."

He's quick to defend himself, and your eyes almost sparkle as you look up into his own. "We should have learned by now that our story is our own, yes?" You ask. "We are not Beatrice and Benedick, or Laurie and Amy, or even Romeo and Juliet, just like I used to think we were supposed to be when my days were numbered. I thought I wanted one of those stories to be mine at least once before I died, but I was wrong." You say, taking in the embarrassed flush of his cheeks even in the dim lighting. "You are you, and I am me. No matter what you say I will be happy to marry you, so long as you ask me yourself, and not as someone else."

"Alright then." He gives you a curt nod, a smile on his face as he lowers himself in front of you, careless of the dirt that would no doubt cake into the knee of his pants. "You're everything to me, Y/N/N. My world... my heart, my soul. I didn't know what love was until I met you. I've spent the entirety of my adult life learning to love you, and I never intend to stop. Not even for a moment, so please, let me marry you, love."

"A Coryo indeed." You say softly, recalling the first day you had met him- when you only knew him as Coriolanus, and how far you both had come since then. The growing smile on your lips twitches and you nod, holding his hand a little tighter and attempting to pull Coryo back to his feet. "Of course I will. Nothing would make me happier."

He stands again and very quickly his arms are around you, holding you just as tight as they always had.

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thanks again for being here.

xx, raye

[amhrosina]

Afterglow (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Masterlist // Join My Taglist

a/n: another taylor swift song fic lmfao i just cannot help myself, this one is so angsty i almost felt bad for Matt just writing it (someone pls give that man a hug, he NEEDS one) also i feel so bad about not posting that i didnt even send this one to my beta reader i just posted it and hoped for the best lmfao

Summary: Matt and Reader have an argument that feels like it might be relationship-ending after Matt's hectic lifestyle as Daredevil catches up with him.

warnings: ANGST BRO SO MUCH ANGST, matty really just deserves the world, angry matt at the beginning, soft matt and foggy convo, matt doesn't know how to accept love, super soft matt at the end, some religious imagery i guess, happy ending

-

I blew things out of proportion, now you're blue

Put you in jail for something you didn’t do

I pinned your hands behind your back, oh

Thought I had reason to attack, but no

Fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves

Chemistry 'til it blows up, 'til there’s no us

Why'd I have to break what I love so much?

It's on your face, and I'm to blame, I need to say

The door slammed behind Matt in a fitful rage, and he was so pissed off, so intense in his anger that he wanted to turn around and slam it again, just to lash out a second time. It was so unlike him to be this way, so unlike him to allow the festering wound that was his soul show itself so plainly, but it had been a long night, long year, long life and he was fucking tired.

And you. You. You. You. You’d been caught in the crossfire. 

“Fuck.” Matt breathed, already regretting the argument that he’d started simply because he hadn’t been able to reel the Devil back in after a long night. The tight leash he held on the part of him that he hated, the part of him that you’d never seen because he’d hidden it so deep inside himself every night, was a ghost in his hands. The line between Matthew the person and Daredevil the vigilante had been blurring for months, but tonight was the first time he’d let it slip through the careful facade he’d been constructing around himself. He was a shattered window, ready to break at the slightest bit of pressure. 

The cold sliced into Matt’s skin as he stepped through the doorway at the front of his building, a sobering chill of wind that triggered the memory of your eyes welling with tears. He’d been relentless in his anger, and what for? Because he had a bad night? Because he couldn’t save everyone, and somehow that was your fault? 

Asshole is the word you’re looking for, Matthew.

Matt groaned and pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing Foggy’s number before he could talk himself out of it.

“It’s three in the morning, Matt.” Foggy said by way of greeting, voice still heavy with sleep. “You’re not somewhere dying are you?”

“Only metaphorically.” Matt replied, shuffling his feet. He lowered himself to sit on the stairs beneath him, huffing as his body settled against the concrete. The metal of the railing dug into his temple as he rested his head against it, an uncomfortable reminder that the only person to blame for this was himself.

“You okay?” Foggy’s tone had shifted from a sleepy annoyance to somewhat concerned. 

Matt closed his eyes. He didn’t deserve the love he received from his friends.

“I’m-” He started, but cut himself off when he realized he had no idea what he was going to say. Was he okay? No, he didn’t think so. 

“You’re kinda freaking me out here, man.”

“I fucked up, Foggy.” He deflated as he admitted it.

“With her?” Foggy pressed.

“With her. With everything.” Matt shrugged, blinking away the tears burning the back of his eyes. Your sudden return to his thoughts felt like whiplash, and he couldn’t catch his breath. “She deserves better than me.”

“Matt,” Foggy chided, and Matt could tell he was shaking his head, “Don’t say that. She loves you.” 

“Maybe not anymore.” Matt knew how ridiculous and juvenile he sounded, but the Matthew-Murdock-party-of-one pity party was in full effect, and he was leaning into the sad corner of his being so aggressively he couldn’t stop himself from saying it.

“She loves you.” Foggy repeated. “I don’t think anything could change that. What happened?”

“I had a bad night and yelled at her. It was stupid and I feel like an ass-”

“An asshole.” Foggy finished, and Matt couldn’t stop the chuckle that followed this observation. “Listen, did you tell her any of this?”

“Not yet.” The longer Matt sat, the more he hated himself for leaving. The words he had shouted echoed in his mind. “She should just leave. I’m never going to be able to give her what she deserves.”

“What about what you deserve, Matt?” Foggy asked, heated in the defense of his very best friend, “You deserve to be loved, too.”

Matt sat with Foggy’s statement for a second, letting the love wash over him for the briefest moment. Is this what it’s like for the kind of people who can easily accept the love of others? His body felt warm and fuzzy, an unfamiliar but comforting sensation that had him rubbing the heel of his hand across his chest.

“I should go apologize and hope to God she’ll take me back.” Matt sighed.

“She will, Matt.” Foggy assured him. “She will.”

Matt returned the phone to his pocket and turned, heading back into the place that held his entire aching heart.

It's so excruciating to see you low

Just wanna lift you up and not let you go

This ultraviolet morning light below

Tells me this love is worth the fight, oh

I lived like an island, punished you with silence

Went off like sirens, just crying

Why'd I have to break what I love so much?

It’s on your face, don't walk away, I need to say

Hey, it's all me, in my head

I'm the one who burned us down

But it's not what I meant

Sorry that I hurt you

When Matt reentered the apartment, it had only been twenty minutes since he’d stormed out, but it had felt like hours. You were in the same place that he’d left you - curled up in a sitting position on the sofa - except now your cheeks were coated with salty tears that permeated the air around you. Matt tasted them on his tongue the second he opened the door, a twinge of pain shooting through his chest as he realized just how bad the situation was. You were so deep in thought, cycling through the words Matt had spat at you, that you hadn’t noticed his arrival.

“Petal?” Matt called softly, alerting you to his presence in the room. You startled, turning to look in his direction. The silence before you responded was deafening and anxiety inducing, something Matt had never handled well. He wrung his hands together and took a step closer to you. Finally, you spoke.

“You came back.”

Not a question, but not really a statement either. A simple observation that left Matt stumbling over his words. 

“I uh…never really left. I was just downstairs.” He scratched the back of his neck. “On the steps out front. I didn’t go far.”

“I thought you weren’t coming back.”

Matt’s lip wobbled as he inhaled sharply and asked, “Do you want me to go?”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that question. He listened to your answer anyway. He would listen to any words you had to offer, even if they were words that might kill him.

“You said some terrible things, Matt.” You sniffled, sighing heavily as another wave of tears coated your cheeks. “You said ‘If you can’t handle this, I don’t think we should be together anymore.’ And the funny thing is, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be handling.”

“Petal, I-” Matt began, shaking his head.

“No, Matt.” Your voice had suddenly become very firm and very loud, all at once. Matt flinched. “I’m not finished.” You adjusted your body, leaning your head back against the sofa before continuing. “I don’t know who you are anymore. My Matty would never keep things from me or disappear for days at a time or yell at me. The man I fell in love with is missing, and I don’t know what to do to get him back.”

The hold Matt had on his tears was obliterated as you admitted your feelings to him. Warm tears fell down his face, every droplet an admission of guilt. You were right, of course. Matt hadn’t felt like himself in months, and instead of trying to get a grip on himself, he had been leaning into the suit every night, forcing his mind to focus on other things. He always took on the brunt of the pain in any situation - he’d been doing this his entire life - but he had not realized how much of that pain was being transferred to you every time he forgot himself.

“Baby, I’m- I can’t even say how sorry I am.” Matt sank to his knees in front of you, pleading. “You’re right about everything, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be good enough for you or come home to you after work like a normal boyfriend would and I’m sorry for the things I said. I never wanted to hurt you the way I did. I will never, ever, deserve your love.” He swallowed a sob as he admitted what he thought was the truest thing he’d ever said out loud. “Foggy told me I deserve love but I’ve thought and thought about it and I can’t imagine a world where your love will ever feel like anything but a gift to me.”

You sighed again, sniffling as you lifted your hand to cradle Matt’s wet cheek.

“I know I’m fucking it up. I’m sorry I can’t be more. This is all I have to offer, and I know it’s selfish to ask you to keep loving me but I can’t be without you. You’re all I have.”

“I don’t understand, Matty.” You shook your head, furrowing your brows.

“You’re the only thing that brings me home. And I don’t mean physically. You’re the only reason I can find my way back to myself. You remind me of the love the world is capable of. Not even Foggy can do that for me the way that you do. Can’t you see that you’re it for me? Without you, I am just a man walking hand in hand with the Devil. There is no point without you.”

“Matty.” You sighed, caressing his cheekbones as tears cascaded down his face. 

Matt wasn’t sure what he wanted you to say. That he did deserve love, or maybe that you weren’t going to leave him after tonight was over, or maybe anything besides ‘I don’t love you anymore’. 

“Don’t leave me.” He begged, barely above a whisper, so tired of the war raging in his mind. If there was anything he was capable of doing tonight, it was pleading with you for this. Beyond that, he was useless. “Don’t leave.”

“Will you lay with me?” You asked, and Matt nearly collapsed into your hold. It was not what he was expecting, but he would take it. The inevitable self-hatred and doubt about this moment echoed in the back of his mind, but he was ignoring it for once. All he wanted to do was lay with you, so that’s exactly what he did.

Tell me that you're still mine

Tell me that we'll be just fine

Even when I lose my mind

I need to say

Tell me that it's not my fault

Tell me that I'm all you want

Even when I break your heart

I need to say

I don't wanna do, I don't wanna do this to you (Ooh)

I don't wanna lose, I don't wanna lose this with you (Ooh)

I need to say, hey, it's all me, just don't go

Meet me in the afterglow

Matt was on the verge of tears again, lying next to you in the bed that you had shared with each other for so many nights. He was so afraid of losing this, losing you. He wasn’t entirely sure he would survive if you asked him to leave after this. He wasn’t entirely sure that mindset was healthy, either, but that didn’t stop him from contemplating it. He was here, and you were here, and if he was destined to live in this doubt forever, then at least he would die next to you.

Your tears had long dried up, but the ache deep inside you was palpable and overwhelming and he didn’t know what to do. The hand you had led him here with, the one that you still held, the only thing connecting your body to his was his safety blanket. This was what people called a safe space, he thought. For the first time in a long time, Matt began to silently pray.

He prayed for you, and he prayed for himself, and mostly, he prayed for love. He prayed that the night would last forever, so that he could lay next to you for the remainder of his life. He prayed for forgiveness, and begged for yours. He prayed for the strength it would take if you didn’t grant it to him. Because if you asked him to leave, he would. It would hurt and possibly - no, definitely - kill him, but he’d do it, because you deserved that, at least. The possibilities of the night were endless, and that was the scariest thing to Matt. Anything could happen.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, lightly squeezing his hand.

“I’m praying.” He murmured, squeezing your hand back.

“About what?”

“About you.” 

“Oh, Matty.” 

The smile on your face, the steady thump of your elevated heart rate, felt like a win. Comfortable silence overtook the room, and you were so still for so long that anyone else might’ve thought you had fallen asleep, but Matt knew better. You were thinking, contemplating every word that had been shouted, pleaded, and begged tonight. All the while, Matt prepared himself for the worst.

“The sun’s coming up.” You murmured.

“Yeah?” It was all he could muster. Everything hurt, and he never wanted this moment to end.

“Yeah.” You swept your fingertips over his cheeks, following the path of the sun as it draped itself across both of your bodies. 

Matt swallowed, opened his mouth to ask the dreaded question, and then closed it and swallowed again. The gentle caress of your fingers felt like a brand in his skin. Finally, in a thick voice he asked for the second time in a matter of hours, “Do you want me to go?”

“Oh, Matty.” You whispered, tears welling in your eyes, and Matt’s heart sank into the ground below him. He thought he could do this, but he couldn’t. He was just supposed to leave what you had built with him? After everything, he was just supposed to count his losses and move on? No fucking way. His breathing had picked up, and he was so focused on his pounding heart that he almost missed the rest of your sentence. “I never wanted you to go. I just wanted you to understand how lonely I’ve been without you. I’m upset with you, but I’ll always love you, and I’ll never be the one asking you to leave.”

Matt stopped breathing for a moment, soaking in the warm relief as it crashed through him. He didn’t have to go, and you loved him. You loved him. You loved him.

“Are you sure?” He forced himself to ask, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

You let out a small giggle and pressed your lips to his forehead before responding. “Of course I’m sure, Matty. But it has to change, okay? We can’t do this to each other again.”

Matt could hardly believe the words coming out of your mouth. He would do anything to keep you here, holding him, keeping him safe, loving him. Anything.

“I promise.” He murmured, grabbing at your face to pull it closer to his. “I love you.”

He pressed a million kisses into your face until you let out the melodic laugh that he felt he could get drunk on. He would do anything to hear that sound again, to be the one causing that sound. Anything.

-

Tag List:

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[ardorwritesfanfic]

Put Him to Sleep || Bachira Meguru x Fem!Reader

I’ve been itching to write some sub!Bachira since my first kinks post, so here it is! Hope you all enjoy! Also, this is the first long fic I've written in two years, so be gentle lolol.

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mommy kink, lactation kink, pegging, sub!character, dom!reader, oral (f!receiving), cum eating (if you squint), orgasm denial, penetrative sex, unprotected sex.

Bachira is 20+!

The TV buzzed with cheering, the picture of your adoring fiancé’s last game playing on the screen. Your eyes focused on the play he made, watching it intently as you felt the familiar bubbling of pride in your chest. With a creak of the front door, you knew that the man in question was home. You heard him sigh, turning your head to see his overwhelmingly exhausted frame.

“Hi honey! Welcome home!” You cooed. The black haired man hummed in response, making his way over to you. He plopped down on the couch, wrapping his arms around you as he nuzzled your neck. He pressed a light kiss to the junction between your neck and shoulder, sighing contently. “Rough day, hmm?” You asked, running your fingers through his hair.

“Uh huh…” he muttered, further nestling his face in the crook of your neck. You felt his hands roam your body, feverish and desperate. You chuckled to yourself, knowing exactly what he needed.

“Do you want me to take care of you, honey?” You asked him in a sickly sweet tone. He nodded furiously, earning a tut from you. “Use your words, Meguru…”

“Yes, please mommy~” he whined, rutting his hips against your thigh. You chuckled, humming as you moved his hand to your tit. Immediately, he started groping and massaging your flesh over your shirt, dipping his hand down to the hem and lifting it up. Separating him from you, you lifted your shirt over your head. Your hands reached behind your back to undo your bra, letting your tits drop gently as they were released from the fabric. Bachira latched onto your nipple without a second thought, gently sucking as he scooted his body closer to yours.

Running your fingers through his hair, you cooed at your fiancé, pressing soft kisses to his forehead as he suckled. You relished in the feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipple, sighing at the slight tug you felt as he sucked on it. You felt the man press his already hardening bulge against the fat of your thigh, rutting his hips desperately to feel the friction he craved.

His pace quickened, his mouth suckling more and more aggressively until the man was growling with desire. “Meguru…” you spoke with a warning in your tone. Bachira didn’t even look up as he continued his pace, brutally sucking your tit. Having had enough of his needy actions, you pulled him off of you. “Meguru, you can’t be that aggressive.” You spoke, taking note of your partner's eyes, clouded in lust. “I think you need to be punished.” You said, feigning a sigh. Bachira’s eyes sparkled with need as he pleaded.

“Wait! Please, I can be a good boy!” He whined. You shook your head, already knowing what your next steps would be.

“Kneel on the ground for me, Meguru~” you cooed, standing up from your seat on the couch. Bachira did what you asked without question, staring up at your body with lust filled eyes. “You want to get off so badly? Hump my leg and get yourself off.” You instructed. Bachira whined, a dark red blush covering his face. Bachira wrapped his arms around your leg, positioning himself to straddle it. Slowly, he started grinding against your leg, soft moans and whines resonating throughout the room. You stared at the man with all the love in your heart, the sounds he made going straight to the pressure building in your lower abdomen. You would be lying to yourself if you said that that sight of your fiancé so desperate to get off didn’t contribute to the slick pooling in your panties.

Bachira placed hot kisses along your thigh, increasing his speed as he reached closer and closer to his high. He panted as the pleasure became too much for him to bear. With a loud moan, his hips jutted against your leg, soaking the inside of his boxers with cum. You reached down to run your fingers through his hair and massage his scalp, his eyes dazed as he looked up at you. “D-Did I do okay? W-Was I good?” He stuttered, still reeling from his orgasm. You chuckled softly, running your thumb over his reddened cheeks.

“Yes Meguru, you were a good boy! I think you’ve earned a reward.” You said with a smile. Carefully, you helped Bachira off of his knees and led him to the bedroom. You instructed him to sit on the bed and wait while you gathered the supplies you needed. You searched your shared bathroom and grabbed a bottle of lube from the cabinets. You emerged with a smile on your face, placing the lube on the bedside table as you rustled through the drawers to find what you were looking for.

Bachira gasped as he saw what you were holding. The bright purple strap-on looked sinful in your hands, but it filled the black haired man with excitement. You turned to face your fiancé, who seemed to be drooling at the thought of you fucking him. You felt his eyes burning into you as you put the strap-on on. Once you were done, you grabbed the lube, squirting some of the cool gel into your hand. You glanced at his face as you sensually rubbed the gel all over the silicone shaft. He was practically drooling at the sight, his eyes flickering between the silicone and your face.

“O-Oh god, Mommy, I need you…” he whined, shifting on the bed. You chuckled, and cooed at your fiancé.

“Aww, already so needy. Undress yourself, babyboy, Mommy will give you what you need~” you coo as you watch him shed his clothes. He crawls back onto the bed, ass up as he prepares for you. You smirk, adding a small dollop of lube to your hands as you move over towards him. Gently, you rub at his asshole, inserting one finger into the tightened hole. He groans, gripping the sheets as he looks back at you. Slowly, you pump your finger in and out of him, watching him closely for any signs of discomfort. Bachira wiggled his hips in response, quickening your pace. Once he was sufficiently stretched, you added a second, then third finger. He whined as you quickened your pace, tongue lolling out of his mouth from the pleasure. You hummed with content as you removed your fingers from him, kneeling on the bed as you lined the silicone dick up with his hole. “W-Wait!” He whined, panting lightly. Concerned, you stopped and backed away from him.

“What’s wrong Meguru?” You asked. Bachira blushed darkly before responding.

“Can you tie my hands behind my back? Please, mommy?” He asked, eyes dark with lust and want. You hummed your approval, walking back over to your drawer and grabbing some rope. Swiftly, you bound Bachira’s hands together, leaving him defenseless against you.

“Better?” You asked, earning a nod from your raven haired fiancé. “Are you okay to continue?” You asked him, earning another, even more enthusiastic nod. Placing your hands on his cheeks gently, you lined yourself up with his hole, slowly pushing I to it. Bachira’s muscles tightened at the intrusion, but they soon relaxed with your soothing touch. Rubbing his back, you stilled your hips, waiting for his signal to continue. With a small nod from your fiancé, you continued, eventually bottoming out.

Slowly, you began moving your hips, a dark blush covering your face from the lewd noises your fiancé was making. His toes were curled in pleasure, his eyes screwed shut as you continued your assault on his ass. “Is mommy making you feel good, baby?” You ask.

“F-Fuck yes, mommy, my a-ah, I f-feel so… fuck!” Bachira could barely contain the sinful moans that erupted from his chest. His hips jolting from the stimulation of the comforter rubbing his tip. With every passing minute, your speed increased, the lewd slapping of skin getting louder and louder as it reverberated around the room. Your hands massaged his sides, moving around to his chest every so often. You rolled his hard nipples between your fingers, earning more sinful moans from the raven-haired male below you. Bachira was practically shaking beneath you, slick precum coating his sensitive tip.

"I-I'm gonna cum, mommy!" Bachira moaned. A smirk spread across your face as you stilled your hips, earning a desperate whine from your fiancé. "No! No, please let me cum! It's not fair!" He cried. You simply chuckled, combing your fingers through his sweat soaked hair.

"You know, mommy wants to cum too. Wouldn't you rather we cum together?" You asked. Bachira thought for a moment, before slowly nodding. Bracing his hips, you pulled the silicone strap out of him, and swiftly discarded it. Your hands moved over to his hands, skillfully undoing the rope that held them together. Your gaze drifted to Bachira's lower half as he sat up, taking note of how painfully hard he was. You sat yourself next to him, then instructed the man to get in between your legs. You hummed in amusement at how quickly the man moved. You had him wrapped around your finger. You spread your legs wider as your fiancé situated himself, holding himself back from diving in and tasting you. "Go ahead, love. Use that pretty mouth of yours~" you cooed. Without a second thought, Bachira dove into your core, licking a delicious stripe across your aching cunt. You moaned in delight, grabbing fistfuls of his hair to maintain your balance. Bachira groaned against your skin, tongue flicking in and out of you. His hands gripped your thighs, his hips thrusting sloppily against the mattress. His nose brushed ever so lightly against your clit, earning a loud moan from you.

It takes everything in you to pull his head away from your cunt, but you were delighted to see the look on his face. His pupils were dilated, face covered in your juices. His tongue lolled out as he panted, desperately trying to catch his breath. With several large breaths, you let Bachira dive back into you. He ate you out with fervor, focused solely on pleasing you. As he massaged your insides with his tongue, you felt a familiar pressure build in your lower abdomen. Your moans grew louder as you began grinding against his face. The building pressure finally snapped as Bachira sucked on your clit, and you felt him hum in satisfaction as you moaned the loudest you had all night. As you came down from your high, you felt Bachira lap up your release, panting as he finally removed himself from your body. Bachira crawled on the bed to hover above you, looking down at you with adoration plastered all over his face. Your hand reached up to caress his cheek, chuckling as you felt something poking your inner thigh. "You still horny baby? You wanna make mommy feel really good?" You asked.

"Yes! please let me inside, Mommy! I've been so good!" Bachira responded, still panting. You gave him a nod of approval, and Bachira lined himself up with you before thrusting himself inside.

"O-Oh shit, honey! B-Be careful with, Mommy!" You moaned, attempting to adjust to the intrusion. Bachira nodded, and started a slow pace, pumping in and out. Small whines and moans left his lips as he buried his face in your neck. His cock felt so good inside you, you felt every small movement. His tip dragged deliciously against your walls, hitting every sweet spot he could. Your loud moans only egged the black-haired man on, and it didn't take long for Bachira to increase his speed. The sound of skin slapping once again filled the room, along with the lewd sounds of your moans. "O-Oh fuck, right there, baby! You fuck Mommy so good!" you cried, feeling the pressure build once again in your lower abdomen. Your mind was hazy, and you were still so sensitive from your first orgasm.

"Oh god, Mommy! You're so wet, a-and so warm~. I can't hold on!" Bachira moaned, biting into your neck to muffle his sounds. His hips pounded into you, skin squelching as he slid in and out of you. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer as you neared your second orgasm. You felt his cock twitch inside you, as his thrusts became sloppier and sloppier.

You felt Bachira's hand descend down your body, and you moaned as his thumb began rubbing ruthless circles into your clit. The stimulation Bachira provided was all you needed to be sent over the edge. The pressure in your belly exploded with pleasure, the feeling sending waves of electricity across your body. You moaned loudly, pulling Bachira closer as his hips stuttered. With a loud groan, Bachira emptied his seed inside you, filling your cunt with white hot liquid. His thrusts slowed to a stop, resting his body on top of yours as you stroked his hair. "Was that good, love? Are you feeling better?" You asked him calmly. Bachira nodded, pressing sweet kisses into your neck.

Bachira's body soon grew heavy, a wave of relaxation spreading across his body. You cooed at him, rubbing his back to ground him. "Go to sleep, my love" you said, "we can clean up later."

"I love you, Y/N." Bachira spoke softly, eyes fluttering closed.

"I love you too, Meguru." You whispered, pressing a kiss into the man's forehead. Exhaustion plagued your body, and you soon found yourself falling asleep too.

[verdemoun]

maybe sean could relate to jack? as his father also was an outlaw and because of this, while not directly being darragh’s fault, seans life was a complete and utter mess, almost ruined, for years.

oooh this is fun

sean and jack are more like two sides of the same coin. jack does not have sean's ability to pretend he's okay, he can't force a smile or laugh about things. sean does not have jack's ability to just be transparent and wear his emotions honestly. almost everyone knows at least some of what is bothering jack because young man is useless at hiding it

lenny would encourage sean to talk to jack, because everyone knows telling lenny/sean something is the same as telling them both but also lenny can see that complex guilt about decisions in their lives in direct response to relationship with father as outlaw is something they have a lot more in common, whereas lenny really related to jack's need to get revenge

i think even in the moments they did have a serious toned chat about what an utter disaster their lives were - sean having to cope with the same feelings of knowing deep down darragh wouldn't have wanted him to be an outlaw, the same sort of shame around it as jack and knowing it was those decisions that lead to their own demises - the way sean quickly plasters on a smile if someone calls him away or when the conversation is over is just something jack would be intensely jealous of

similarly, sean is a little bit jealous that jack isn't in the position where he has to be 'okay'. no one expected jack to be okay so he doesn't have to be. sean had to learn to play the role of happy clown as a defense to stop people taking advantage of how not okay he was, especially as a young outlaw on his own before the VDLs, to the point he can't turn it off even when he wants to or feels like he should

^^ special fuck you to dutch for both offering the first 'safe' environment for sean post darragh's death where he might have been able to unpack some stuff just to double down on the pressure to always be cheerful

also, lenny's 15 years post timewarp life is a bit more what jack would feel he can accomplish. going back to school, getting a job, learning to cope slowly and being able to acknowledge his past in a 'i still feel a lot of guilt and regret but i learned to forgive myself'

sean's life almost seems too perfect, for jack it's like watching a hallmark movie. sean's happy (genuinely happy most of the time), and laughing, doees his best by his perfect daughter, instigating pda with his husband. living in the present is sean's way of coping and jack just doesn't think he'd ever have it in him to completely let go like that

[soaps-mohawk]

me sliding into your asks as soon as i see they're open: HECKIN. YES.

(also i wrote this before the latest update if the vibes seem off)

I know you've been having A Time of it so no pressure to answer this (or if it bothers you! I hope you don't mind but if you do I apologize) 

But I was reading through the CRCB FAQs and you were talking about how a second omega would fit in the pack, with Simon as their "primary" alpha. I was thinking about what kind of omega would be interesting and able to keep up with them....and landed on: well, there have to be SOME omega rights activists, right? It seems like omega suffrage would be a fairly new thing (last 100 years or so), and that generally speaking omegas have the limited rights that American women had prior to women's lib/the advent of no fault divorce (and if you've already talked about this ahhhh don't mind me!)

And I just thought. That would be so delicious. An older omega rights activist (30s? older than reader!omega "Too old" by societal norms) , not super well known but pretty independent for an omega. and the US government can't just KILL them as much as they want to, (the FBI is like wym y not???:( so ooc for us ) so the CIA is like hey UK!!! heard about some omega shit you were doing. Need another one??? But don't look at that file too closely. Actually, you know what, just give the file back to us, you don't need it

Basically the exact opposite reason reader was chosen (military background, textbook good omega , genuinely trying their best to be a good omega vs civilian actively trying to cause a ruckus  who needs to be black bagged) and they know Ghost's reputation and his upbringing, on paper they see a man who will NOT take kindly to this mouthy omega, who will undoubtedly fight him on EVERYTHING, who will certainly hate the good omega the pack already has, so no one will be too concerned if Riley roughs them up a bit. if the omega dies during claiming wah wahhh so sad. but these things happen and now the Brits owe us a favor for killing a US citizen

Of course they don't take into account how much reader!omega has impacted the pack, who is already working on ways to make the new omega feel welcome and cared for, that Ghost would sooner kill himself than put himself in a position where he felt he was unsafe for (his) omega OR that Ghost would probably be really chuffed to have an omega that will stand toe to toe with him and who will be SO EXCITED at learning how to fight alphas. 

idk idk i just had fun thinking about it. reader!omega being very protective of New Packmate, doing things she wish had been done when she was first introduced to the pack (fluffy blanket shopping spree!!) lowkey being a wingman, baking brownies together, HAVING THEIR OWN GROUP CHAT ABOUT THE BOYS!! well i guess it's just a chat if there's only two in it but you get it

anyway thank you for sharing this wonderful world with us :)

(also: i was so scared about the new chapter bcos anxiety! i was worried the boys would just be harsh and angry for the dramatic tension but their reactions were believable and informed by what they've been learning about the realities of being an omega. and it was so well done, it made my heart hurt but the good way.)

Haha yeah, I was getting a ton and didn't want to overwhelm myself so I turned them off for a bit before Saturday since I knew I'd be getting many after I posted the chapter.

Ah yeah, that was an idea I had early on writing this fic. Something similar except Simon doesn't accept the first omega so Laswell sends in a second (the details and world are very different with a few similarities) for Simon and Johnny.

But this would be a good idea too!! Definitely would be some butting heads there and there would be a lot of struggles between them. Angst though. The angst would be chef's kiss

(Yeah, I tried to tone it down more from what it was originally going to be and honestly I made them nicer than they should have been, while also keeping it realistic still. John definitely was the most understanding because he understands why 'mega kept it a secret in the first place. I broke everyone's hearts this week. I can't promise I'm not gonna do it again next week)

[danwhobrowses]

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse - Quickfire Review

So I am out of the cinema, and I have thoughts

We've finally reached the sequel to the epic Spider-verse movie, which in itself rewrote the rules on animation while being able to juggle a large cast outside of the Marvel machine.

So let me tell you my experience with the movie

Spoilers for the movie, you've been warned

Okay, this was a lot

It was really good, but it was a lot

I really don't want to speak badly about this movie because it is not at all bad, it's a visual spectacle with many twists and great characters. But I think the plot lost me. The main reason I think it lost me was the crux of 'Canon Events', which I will get more into, but given that last movie was about anyone being a Spider it was irksome that the story is also 'yes but you also have to have the exact same experiences which strips your story of agency'. I also think that the retcon that Peter A would've survived is wrong, and if all Spiders are meant to have the same chain of happening then why is Miles, the anomaly, subject to that rule in a universe where that chain has already happened? Also if he's an anomaly why didn't the universe disappear after a year of him and the Spider from Earth-42 being in this world? In a way it does threaten to lose the heart of what made the first movie so good too.

I also feel like it was two or three movies stitched together, Gwen's story was great, albeit with so much angst, Miles' story in his universe barely got going and Miles vs Spider Society was the main part of the narrative, and while it was woven together well I think the magnitude of it all took me out of it a bit, a lot of the times I felt like it was gonna end and then it went on for another 10-30 minutes, and it is a bad sign when you can feel the length of a movie. Honestly we could've easily gotten away with a Spider-Gwen movie of her own, let it cliffhanger with the cold open we got then have the final interaction with her dad and the infinite amount of colour palettes in this movie with just the Miles stuff going on.

My main character critique is probably the sourness that they did EXACTLY what I feared they would do to Miguel O'Hara. Spider-Man 2099 is my favourite Spider-Man but they really did decuple down on the edginess over the basis of his suit and powers. I mean sure, he has trauma that has killed off the last of his lighthearted value we saw in last-movie's post-credits scene, but most Spiders have trauma, and he did essentially steal another man's life for his own. I think the fact that he puts a ton of pressure on himself to uphold other timelines didn't quite come across so well, because they needed him to take over as the primary antagonist and 'the guy who tells Miles the stuff his mother warns him people may say to him'. Also, Miguel is different from most spiders because he doesn't have his Uncle Ben moment, he was a dick who caught conscience and Alchemax tried to silence him and accidentally gave him spider powers, so that also hinders the 'Canon Events' plot of Uncle Ben and Captain Stacy moments happening. Jessica Drew I struggled to get around to, loved her at the start but then she just started being cold, same can be said for Miles' parents towards Gwen, they picked one thing she couldn't have known they'd dislike and that was their tone towards her for most of their interactions after.

B U T !

Do I intend to watch Beyond the Spider-Verse? Yes! Absolutely.

Because even with the narrative flaws and the irksome nature that some characters are just being cold for little reason and that one of your favourite comics Spider-Man is not represented the same way, there is an extremely good movie in here. The art was amazing, in between all universes, the music was AMAZING, like Gwen vs Vulture just had an amazing soundtrack on its own. And gods all the Easter eggs; game and live action continuity weaved in, Ben Reilly, Unlimited Spidey, Julia Carpenter, adult MayDay Spider, Venom movie shop, even Prowler Donald Glover! There is so much to enjoy and the more you know about the several iterations and media of Spider-Man the more you find to enjoy.

But Hobie (Spider-Punk) stole the fucking show, everything he did was gold, Pavitr was fun but we needed more of him same with Spiderbyte and really Peter B and Miguel, Spot was hilarious too and then terrifying-looking when he reached his full potential, also Penny has an EVA now. The Spiders chase was well done with its clever quips and dynamic use of other spiders, the cold open was also inventive with Renaissance-verse Vulture. And then of course we got a very gripping cliffhanger, I like the squad we have for Gwen to rescue Miles and I can only beg that Lord and Miller manage to tone down and bring Miguel around in a satisfying manner without having to compromise the integrity and heart of the plot as Miles seeks a way to save his father without erasing his universe.

If anything this movie will keep you on your toes, it is stylistic beyond anything you might have seen before, but it can easily get overwhelming. I personally enjoyed as much as Guardians 3, maybe more by a slight margin (the highs are higher but the qualms are greater so hard to tell), but I also feel like it's not better than the first plot-wise just because of that feeling of being overwhelmed. It is worth a watch though for sure.

[canmom]

went to the big palestine demo today.

perhaps because the government kicked up a fuss about Armistice Day, or perhaps by gradual snowballing, it was probably one of the largest political demos I've been on - street was packed from end to end as far as the eye could see. maybe the BLM demos in the summer a few years ago were of comparable scale, but honestly i think this one was bigger. hours after i reached the end the column of marchers was still stretching back to the bridge at least. i can post some pictures when I've had time to scrub faces out of them.

i decided to improvise a protest sign this time. i had to buy permanent markers en route, so i wrote out the sign by the side of the road. some fascist prick walked by as i did this to call me a leftist pedo who doesn't know what gender I'm supposed to be in a tone of the most vehement disgust, which was oddly affirming. cunt must have fancied himself a poet, answering me giving him the finger with 'what are you, a man or a mouse?', which is cracking me up in retrospect.

there was a lot of rightful anger in the protest. lots of people led chants - at one point i saw the megaphone was held by a child who looked about 7. it was affirming to be surrounded by people who give a shit, even if they're all strangers. the organisers led us to the US embassy, where there were two different stages set up for speakers - most of them Palestinian but there was one Welsh MP there as well, maybe the Welsh politicians are less cowardly than England's. there were also the usual panoply of SWP gazebos trying to recruit people to help them carry out the important socialist activities of flogging newspapers and recruiting more SWP members. the end felt a bit aimless - after the focused energy of marching A to B, it ended in people going forward to the SWP/bookstore/painfully loud sound system area and then milling around, then either coming back to either stand by the first stage or gradually go home. it is frustrating to me that the willingness of a political demo to cause real disruption tends to be inversely proportional to its scale. but this was largely a symbolic march, that will make headlines just by virtue of the scale.

the US embassy itself (which has a fucking moat) was pretty locked down with cops and thick barriers stopping anyone approaching the entrances. my ears are still full of protest chants and my voice is a bit hoarse. apparently the UK gov is due to vote on whether to call for a ceasefire in a week. exactly how much diplomatic pressure they'll apply if that vote goes through, i can only speculate. in the meantime, we really need to be applying direct pressure on Elbit factories and other components of the weapons industry. but that's a lot riskier than an A to B march and requires much better opsec, so you know. if someone's working on that and they're any good at what they're doing, it won't be planned in public.

[acromandus]

Finally getting around to doing this! Thank you @thelifeinmyshadesofgrey for tagging me ♥♥♥♥♥ I haven't done these in ages so it was fun to feel like we were back in the 'golden era' of tumblr xD

Tag someone you want to know AND/OR some of your besties: I don't wanna pressure anyone to have to do this, so consider this a warm suggestion rather than a I-will-judge-you-if-you-don't kind of situation @heyitszev :) (and if anyone else reading this feels like it, go ahead, the more the merrier lmao)

Favourite colour: This is a tough one because it all just depends on context so much. I'd say typically I veer more towards darker tones in general: really like a nice dark green, or a dark red or crimson. Purple is lovely too :D

Last song: Two Knights and Maidens by Crash Test Dummies https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5NS2EcHzdYY

Say what you want about the lyrics, but the chord progression in this song is *chefs kiss*

Last movie: 9. A bit of a strange one perhaps, but an interesting take on a post-apocalyptic world brought to life in a style that reminds me of Tim Burton a little bit. Basically, the world has been destroyed in a war between humans and machines, and we're introduced to a group of sentient dolls, each with a number on their backs from 1 to 9, who have had to survive in this strange new world while figuring out why they were made in the first place. I don't wanna spoil this for anyone who hasn't seen it, so I'll leave it at that :)

Currently watching: I'm in-between series atm haha. Waiting for season 4 of the Boys, and just finished watching season 2 of 30 Coins. Might just do a rewatch of Andor or the Punisher to fill this void.

Other stuff I watched this year: Err… from what I remember (and yes, since we're only in January, I'm counting 2023 into this as well) I'd say Moon Knight, Andor, 30 coins, a rewatch of Supernatural (up to season 12), and the One Piece live action series. Out of all these Andor was perhaps my favourite, but I enjoyed all of them, and was pleasantly surprised at how well the One Piece adaptation remained loyal to the original works :D they obviously had to adjust some things but it still felt true to form. With Andor, I was hesitant to watch it at first because the last SW series I had watched had been declining in quality (weird writing, etc), however… Andor completely blew me away. The way it builds up to the climax was just so well done, the writing is superb, music fantastic, and it's one of those series I wish I could forget about completely so I could experience it for the first time again.

Shows I dropped this year/didn’t finish: I haven't watched many series I've not finished since I usually watch them to the end anyway, but looks like that new Percy Jackson series may unfortunately fall into this category?

Currently reading: I've been powering through the Harry Potter books. Started during the Christams holidays and I'm now on book 6. So far so good, though I've had to slow down with holidays being over. Might need to reread the Robert Langdon series as well after this as it's still one of my personal favourites.

Currently listening to: This changes daily but I do find myself drifting back to Riot music very often. So, that's music made for League of Legends, Valorant, etc. Not the soundtracks, but songs like Worlds anthems like "GODS" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3GouGa0noM) and 2021's "Burn It All Down" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Z6CHioIn3s). I also absolutely love "Breathe" from the official launch video for Legends of Runeterra (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TNhKAJwlj04). I also like this vid for it heavily featuring Darius, the only champ I ever played when I attempted to get into LoL before the toxicity got to me and I decided it's not for me :3 (didn't take long, but left me with a bit of a soft spot for him lmao)

I absolutely do not play any of these games but man… the music is on point imo. Something again about chord progression, don't ask what my obsession with that is lmao.

If I'm not listening to these and songs like them, I'm listening to heavy metal (industrial or symphonic), movie or game soundtacks, or oldies belonging to various genres from the 70s and 80s, occasionally 90s as well. Here's a couple examples:

Once You've Tasted Love by Take That

Take the Long Way Home by Supertramp

Evil Woman by Electric Light Orchestra

Misplaced by Sonata Arctica

And I will leave it at that as I've already included too many songs lmao

Currently working on: I'm currently making a backend for a gym app I'm working on. I somehow got the GraphQL elements working, now I need to get it saving to a database of somekind. I could do this locally or learn to save data to the cloud but I haven't yet decided which approach to take lmao. Overall, I'm just upskilling in the hopes of eventually landing a job as a full-stack developer. NO LUCK SO FAR aside a couple freelance frontend opportunities :/

Current obsession: Hmm….. good question. I'd say, despite me not playing it as much as I used to, I am slowly getting back to Elder Scrolls Online? Fire Emblem Fates is another, as well as Bleach.

[yellourr]

WEDNESDAY NIGHT’S ALL THE RAGE ࿐ NANAMI KENTO

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ SYNOPSIS. an argument with your husband forces the two of you into life-changing situations for the night, allowing you both to realize what’s important before it’s too late. [ WORD COUNT: 13k ]

✧. ┊     CONTENTS. black fem!reader, semi-canon jjk plot, written in third person (she & her is italicized), use of explicit language, unsettling content ahead so beware, art creds: hugues merle - mary magdalene in the cave (edited)

✧. ┊     LISTENING TO. love drought by beyoncé

✧. ┊     BEHILS NOTE. ah, first time I’ve posted any writing in over a year lol. I'm happy that I stayed dedicated to finishing this because this was so close to going into the pile of fics I've brainstormed and started but never finished. originally, this was going to be a retelling of the shibuya incident but… the original idea felt too boring and played out. I also think that this version allowed me to explore how I wanted to write the reader, nanami, and their overall dynamic. anywho, enjoy and happy reading!… or not ;) [ likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. ]

IT WASN’T HER INTENTION TO MARRY YOUNG. The idea of marrying in her twenties, and committing her entire life to one person whom she met when she was too immature to even know herself was frightening. There was so much to think about and even more to consider. The person she chose to marry needed to be everything she wanted all at once and that was too much pressure for one man to bear. 

In those minor instances, the concept of marriage to her just wasn’t enough- vows weren’t enough. Declarations of love were stale and overdone and anyone could disguise words with a promising tone. Even as she laid there- side pressed against the mattress, hand held to her chest while the other ghosted over her belly- her mind was stuck on that decision. There was no better time to contemplate it than today. The seventeenth of October, a Wednesday. Another day of ordinary activities besides the blaring weight she felt on her lower back. 

The room was cool, air conditioning combating the blaze of heat that washed over Tokyo.  She wasn’t excited to see the additions to the bill by the time November rolled around. Even when the heat prompted a third shower on the previous day, she snuggled closely to her sheet for comfort. No foreign legs were sliding across her heels, or arms wrapping around her waist. Not even a huff of air in her direction or the faintness of snoring. Just his blonde tuft of hair messily plopped on a pillow with his back facing the cushions of the couch, his face buried in them.

Nanami had come in the last few weeks like this. Exhausted, with barely any energy to spare. He’d greet her with a chaste kiss on the cheek as he stripped off his suit to shower. He’d be working after hours, unable to make it to bed by the time she wanted to rest. There were sleepless nights when she’d get up and brew some tea. She’d have it with a muffin from the bakery she got during lunch. The kettle would be left on and a mug with tea leaves in case he woke up. She’d find the untouched mug in the morning.

His hasty distance was strange but his punctuality was more concerning. He never stepped into their apartment later than seven o’clock, usually. But as of late, he was coming in a few minutes past seven. “Something just came up at work. It’s been pretty busy.” He’d tell her with a monotone voice- though it didn’t ease her mind one bit.  He still came in past seven, sometimes past seven-thirty without any further explanation other than busy days.

The behaviour was bothersome, consuming her mind as she showered, and even more as she settled into her clothes. A part of her fought with leaving a message about tonight’s events- but this was too important of a date for Nanami to overlook, not even with his character one-eighty. She found herself marking a post-it note, ‘Don’t forget about tonight, meet me over there @ 6:45.’

Surely there was a reason for his sudden change. It must have been quite the job, what with late-night calls from a Gojo Satoru that popped up on his phone while he showered. Which was as exasperating as the ones from an Ieiri Shoko. 

Jealousy wasn’t her thing. She was hopeful that the answers to her suspicions would ease later tonight, though she was nervous that maybe the truth wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Listening was a trait she learned to take just as seriously as talking. It didn’t even come close to the mounds of listening she had to do for her clients. After all, how else was she supposed to get paid if she didn’t?

“Shall we continue, Mr.?...” She twisted in her seat, attempting to alleviate some pain that pinged in her back. But also because the client today had an aura about him that was unsettling. He was a sight to see- dark attire consisting of a green and yellow robe, black hair that stretched just above his rear, and an unnerving smile. His legs crossed over each other while his hands lay in his lap.

“Getou, Getou Suguru.”

Her glasses hung on the tip of her nose, hairs framing her face as she stared harshly at the notepad atop her lap. For a moment, she looked up at the man, giving him a nervous smile. “When did you arrive in Tokyo?”

His smile widened, “It hasn’t been too long. This December will make it a year since I’ve moved into my new home. It almost feels cozy, though I don’t feel very welcomed.”

She nodded, “It takes a lot of time to get used to. Some find it easier to adjust more than others but that’s dependent on the person.” Her hand planted flatly on the notepad before pushing the glasses up, “If you don’t mind me asking Mr. Getou, where did you live previously?”

“Here, but I moved around after the death of my husband. I’m just struggling a bit with readjusting.”

“Why don’t you tell me about him?”

This time, he smiled fondly. His fingertips grazed over his lips as he spoke, “He was a wonderful man, full of joy. Very understanding, very loving, and very honest. He was always honest with me.”

Of course, this was the client she would get today. One enamored in the memories of his late husband when hers was nothing but distant. She knew that digging herself into a hole by opening her mouth was imminent, but it’s always been a part of the job to judge business that wasn’t her own. She was nothing if not curious, “He certainly does sound like a wonderful man… is he the reason you came back to Japan?”

“No, there’s an old friend I’m here to see. He’s been difficult to pin down.”

“Is he helping you with this adjustment?” She circled the ‘mystery man’ markings written down on the pad. In the last session, he brought him up briefly- only letting it slip that he was a teacher. She assumed this friend was the kind suited to helping him out with an issue as big as relocating.

“No. He will though, once we’ve seen each other.” 

That made her scribblings stop. He came to Japan unsure of whether or not his friend would welcome him. Much like her other clients, he was a creature for punishment. Another twinge of pain hit her, which made her straighten - the change in stature noticeable to the man in front.

“Is everything okay, Mrs. Y/N?” He spoke softly, concern etched into his voice, “You seem very uncomfortable.”

She shrugged, “I’m fine.” Setting the notepad down on the desk next to her along with her glasses as she gave her undivided attention, “About your friend- what if he doesn’t want to see you? What are you going to do then?”

This gained another smile, one that was followed by a chuckle, hearty and deep within her ear. “He hasn’t changed much. Sure there is more for him to lose but he’s still the same man I’ve known him to be.”

Before she could even think to respond, the clock had struck- eleven forty-five. The ending of today’s session.

“Well,” He started, dusting off his kimono as he stood from his place on the couch, “ I’m sure that that’s more than enough material for you to devise a plan of action for me. I’m hoping that this isn’t our last session together- I would love to see you on the thirty-first.” was the last thing he said while he exited the room. If he wished to make another appointment- Kiyoko was the one to chat with. Hopefully, by the end of the month, she’d be gone.

Today’s session was a bit tough. But tough sessions usually came and went. She envisioned that it would be a handful to talk to clients outside of something that she hadn’t personally experienced. When she first moved here, it was because of a position to provide recently moved-in foreigners with some assistance. 

The money was decent enough to pay for rent and groceries but the work was always a reminder of why the job was so daunting. If there was a wall between her clients and her, the wall was a mirror that resembled her frame. The wall reflected her insecurities and pain like light bouncing off water. At times, she even heard the implications of her voice spewing words of sadness, remorse, and regret. Speaking on parental issues and fears of change, the sessions at times were too grave to continue. She had been so eager to prove worth in her decisions that she hadn’t considered the mind state she needed to be in to help her clients.

Even now, what could be said to Getou Suguru that would ease his mind from his husband’s passing when her own would barely even look at her?

Not that there was much to look at now as she stared at the bottle of Marques De Riscal. A quarter of the bottle down and it was only six fifty-eight. Her eyes began to wander around the room, a sea of people accompanied by their partners as they sipped wine and laughed, making the area around her feel lonely.

“May I take your order?” 

“Oh not yet, I’m waiting for my husband- he should be here soon. But thank you!”

Time had passed since then and half a bottle was consumed. She could feel glares move towards her every few seconds, whispers grew, weaving their way into her head. The atmosphere seemed stifling, squeezing around her windpipe as her finger twirled around the rim of the wine glass. Interestingly enough, she found herself reminiscing about her mother. Imagining her in the brown leather couch she begged her father to purchase just a few days after they moved during her senior year. 

She’d sit there with her legs crossed and a ball of red string and needles with her glasses touching the tips of her nose. Paired with gasps in between breaths to spew her I told you so. Her condescending words on how right she was about the course her daughter’s life would take. How much her mother wished she were more like her sister. The last time she had seen her was the last time she made the effort to care. She supposed Tessanne getting into medical school was enough to not look at the failure of her eldest daughter. 

How easy was it to forget about her? Nanami had never been late, not when it came to events or special occasions. Not for something as tortuous as work. He might have been held up there, or some idiot on the road was driving too fast on the highway and built up traffic. She stared at her phone hesitantly. Seven fifty-one and only a simple message pinged on the screen to ease her mind. ‘Running a little late- don’t know when I’ll be there but if you’re hungry, order something.’ Maybe he had other things on his mind- other people on his mind. 

Or maybe, he just didn’t care.

Her phone rang with anticipation as she called. Nanami’s lateness might be prompted by work, but surely the company could let him go for the evening. 

“Hello, this is the Japanese Exchange Group- this is Jin speaking.”

“Hi, can I please get on the phone with Nanami Kento? He’s one of your employees.” She said lowly into the mic. It was weird enough to be in here for over an hour waiting. It felt even worse to have to blast spouts of anger through the phone while everyone around her carried on with their conversations.

“Give me one moment, ma’am.” He said faster than she could respond, leaving her with complete silence on the other line. 

He came back with a low grunt, “The person you’ve requested to speak to is no longer with us.” 

“That’s impossible… he’s been working there since 2015.”

“Actually, he hasn’t worked at this establishment since December tenth.” She felt her fingers tremble. Busy days…? How busy could the days of an unemployed man be?

That was one certain thing- Nanami Kento wasn’t a truthful man. Even though he prided himself on being a person who ruled with morality. With compassion for those who couldn’t provide it for others, or even for themselves. It was, after all, his duty to take care of things that other people wouldn’t dream were possible. 

“I’m gonna be so late to this dinner,” He murmurs to himself as the needle pierces through his lower abdomen. The blood compiled around his side as he laid steadily on the table. The clock above the door read seven-ten. Twenty-five minutes late but he knew he wouldn’t make it to the restaurant until minutes to eight. If the universe was trying to tell him something, it was that he might leave the night a single man. 

“I never told you to go and get yourself hurt, oh great salaryman.” Nanami could hear a hint of laughter in his voice. He let out a deep sigh like a petulant child. Of all the people he could have been stuck with for the moment, Gojo was not the one he wanted to be around. He stood there slanted at the door frame as he watched.

“Please shut up.”

He gasps, hands shooting up to cover his mouth, “you talk to your wife with that mouth?” The comment made him turn up in frustration. Which only prompted a swat from Shoko as she sutured the stitch through his skin.

Nanami also wasn’t the best liar either. But honesty had begun to run low on his scale of importance. And though he would like to assume that it didn’t affect him, it was her who suffered through his dishonesty the most. He could feel the way it changed the tone of the apartment. The both of them maneuvered around each other, never getting in the other’s way. Almost like roommates rather than husband and wife.

“Well look at that, looks like she’s all done.” Gojo called out as Shoko wrapped gauze around his wound.

“Change the gauze every few hours. If it’s still bleeding, you know where to come back to.” She handed him a bottle of ibuprofen.

“Thank you.” She gave him a thumbs up before she rolled her chair over to the nearby drawer, pulling out a stick from a Seven Stars pack. Shoko’s eyes averted from Nanami to above the doorway as she blew smoke through her nose, “It’s already late. Tell Itadori we shall discuss today’s mission tomorrow morning.”

Neither of them could respond as he stepped out of the room- leaving the both of them to look at each other. The heaviness of the room lightened a bit.

What was he to do with his feelings of despair? Ones that disguised themself as love? A part of him regretted it. A chill swiped down his spine the moment he heard the word yes from her lips. What had he gotten himself into? To be the man that he vowed to be on their wedding day just one year prior. And through all of these years of knowing each other- she never knew the truth. Not of what he used to do before he became a salaryman, or of what he does now.

But how could he ever regret her? The radiant curl of her lips showcasing her teeth. The passion in her voice when she’d tell him about whatever new food, or drink she was eager to try. The sound of her voice- stern and informative… but when it turned to laughter- it nearly made his heart constrict. How long had it been since he heard the serene sounds of laughter that vibrated throughout her chest? Or since he felt the heat of her fingertips dance along his skin? 

It felt so selfish to put her through this. He knew that from the moment he asked her to marry him- putting her through the pain of losing the man she loved. But allowing her to walk out of his life would’ve destroyed him. He could handle it, he would tell himself, he could handle the curses that got in his way if it meant he’d make it home to her every night. He swore he wouldn’t allow himself to be taken- especially not on his wedding anniversary.

He only hoped that along with his thorough explanation and an apology- that he’d be able to rekindle their relationship to where it was supposed to be, maybe even better than before. It was all he could think about on the drive home, where he smelt the familiar scent of vanilla and jasmine. Her clothes scattered across the bed as he searched for his suit, which dawned a deep blue that she thought complemented his hair colour so well.

Flowers that bloomed reds and pinks were encompassed in his forearms as he closed the car door. The sky was starting to darken but he could see the plethora of lights that spread across the windows of the restaurant. The sight was as beautiful as he imagined.

He stormed through the door to catch the receptionist, nearly exasperated,  “I have a reservation under Nanami for 7:00 pm. My wife should be waiting at our table.”

The receptionist stared amusingly at him. She eyeballed his sweat-ridden face which caused the hairs to stick to his forehead, his disheveled look, and the bouquet in his hand. She popped a bubble in her gum, not even bothering to check the paper in front of her, “The reservation has been closed.”

Nanami watched as her fingers played around with the pages of a magazine she had by the stand, right above the reservation paper. He sighed, brushing the hairs that covered his eyes slightly, “Look, I understand that I’m late. But the spot is supposed to be open for three hours. It’s only four minutes past eight-thirty.”

“And I am telling you, once the spot is empty the reservation is closed.” She said once again, pointing at the empty table at the far right. One that sat next to the vast wall of windows- giving the perfect view of a gorgeous body of water that remained at the back of the restaurant. Ridden with flowers of pink and white, with trees of equal colour. The same table that was being cleared of its glasses and a bottle of wine- one he could smell if he had been close enough. Marques De Riscal.

What an expensive bottle with such an earthy taste to it. Barely any hints of sweetness to cover up the blazing fire in her throat. She couldn’t understand how people drank so frequently- and to drink alcohol that tasted so damn boring. It had nothing on the hints of raspberry and lime with splashes of rum. One that had her chugging on her fourth daiquiri since she sat in the bar for not even a good fifty minutes.

The bar was quiet, nearly vacant. No one would be foolish enough to drink on a Wednesday night knowing the alarm would ring as early as seven. But then again, someone who wasn’t foolish didn’t have a partner who was late for their anniversary dinner. She sat, with her fingers dancing around the rim of the glass before huffing to herself. 

“Tough night, huh?” A raspy voice called from the side of her with slurred words and the prominent stench of vodka. Her eyes peered to two seats down to reveal a woman, with a glass at her fingertips, mouth ghosting over it. The woman’s skin was fair, possessing a button-like nose that raised at the base. She didn’t look any older than her, presuming the lady was in her early thirties as she dawned dark brown hair with strings of silver filling her hairline. The lady possessed equally dark eyes, at equal distance away from her nose, that watched her tentatively. “I mean it must be. Considering you’re sitting in a bar drinking on a weeknight.”

She hadn’t entertained the lady’s point, continuing to sip at her drink while her eyes became occupied with the large fish tank in the corner. Still, as she kept her distance, the woman moved closer- now only one seat separating the both of them. 

“I don’t mean to pry,” she started again, “but you’re sulking a bit. It’s kinda bringing down the mood.”

“I’m sure my ‘sulking’ wouldn’t bother you if you were a few seats away from me.”

“Feisty.” She chuckled, setting the glass on the counter and placing her hands up, they stayed on either side of her head, “My apologies, you just look like you need to vent about something.”

“I don’t.”

“You sure?”

“Very, so please.” She raised her hand to her face, trying to block the view. Another chuckle erupted from her chest, making her tap her fingers on the glass surface in anguish. Surely the lady was drunk or tipsy, the vodka practically stitching into her nostrils with each passing moment.

Another wave of silence washed over the space, before the lady pulled her hand back, reaching for her jacket pocket. Eyes finally moved towards her direction again as her fingers glided through the inner pocket of her woolen sweater pulling out a spout of cash, “Bartender, another vodka sprite for me and a raspberry daiquiri for the lady over here please.”

The man behind the counter nods, taking the money, “Can I also have a separate shot of tequila?” She told him as he nodded a second time and then moved to the other side of the table. Now she was left alone with the mysterious woman next to her. “What? You want my number or something?” 

Another laugh came from her, this one much heartier than the last one, “No, I just wanted to chat- I’m quite bored if you couldn’t tell.”

“And buying me a drink is the way to start.”

“I tried to appeal to you before the drink but you weren’t having it- you’re too,” she taps her temple with her middle finger, “preoccupied.”

This garnered a laugh from her. She didn’t find it humorous but after today, she’d laugh at anything.  “I’m Y/N. and yeah- it’s been a night.”

“I’m Kira.” She mumbled, holding a hand out to her. Her gaze was still fixated on Kira’s eyes as she took her hand.

“Haven’t seen you around here… you just moved or something?”

“I’ve lived here for quite some time, just… never came in here before.”

“So, what’s with the change of scenery? You get stood up or something?” Kira blurted out quickly, causing her eyes to widen as her lips parted. “You’ve got a pretty dress on, your hair’s done and there’s makeup on your face- people don’t dress like that to come to an empty bar with no one to talk to for almost an hour.”

Suddenly, the memories of Nanami and the night thus far flooded her mind. She came here to take her mind off him and here his actions were, loud and bright and plastered all over her body language. It was enough for even a drunk woman to see it. Through the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the bartender. Dressed in full black, they moved swiftly to her and Kira with the dark pink drink in one hand. “A raspberry daiquiri, a vodka sprite, and a shot of tequila.”

“Thank you.” The both of them commented as the two new glasses rattled on the counter's surface. She quickly turned the miniature glass up her head, twitching a little as the cool liquid slid down her throat. She took a deep breath, contemplating the next moves carefully. She didn’t want to give a stranger a one-way ticket into her mind. It wasn’t her concern. So why did she feel this need to explain herself?

“I got married a year ago today, and my husband didn’t show up to our dinner reservation.”

“Ouch,” Kira remarked loudly, dragging out the sound of the word as she gulped her drink, “that’s shitty.”

She shook her head lightly, peering at her lap, “It wasn’t always like that.”

“Well clearly, he wasn’t always like that- or else you’d be somewhere else.”

She snickered, taking a sip of the daiquiri. Her sight moved to Kira’s full body. “He’s been working a lot and it’s taking up a lot of his attention. I don’t know, it just feels like I’ve become second best. To a job no less.” 

“Familiar with the whole second-best bullshit?”

By the time she finished her question, she already was down to half of her drink. When Kira remained still, she decided to continue, “My father loves my mother- supported her through everything, even when she was never right.” Her hand gripped the glass tightly as her mind began to navigate through the emotions that she swore died when she moved from the States. “She was the one who thought it was a terrible idea to become a therapist. Told me I wasted my education and her money on foolishness.”

Another gulp of her drink, “She preferred my sister.”

“Heh, let me guess, she’s studying to be a doctor or something?” Kira remarked, finally bringing the glass in for a sip.

She nodded, “Even my best friend- hadn’t talked to her in years before my wedding because of a falling out we had over her boyfriend. And yes, they’re still together.”

Kira nodded her head slowly, “So, what exactly does this have to do with your husband?”

“Nothing much I guess, I’m just worried about him. Where he is, where he’s been.”

“Worried?... Sounds like you think he might have someone else.” Kira retorted.

She felt like her throat clogged up on the spot. Is he seeing someone else? It wasn’t a foreign concept- it was something she pondered. But it wasn’t possible- not for a man like him. “I don’t know- he’s been distant these past few weeks- more so than usual. Maybe the problem is me.”

Kira’s eyes watched her attentively as if to examine every behaviour she exhibited without having known her ten minutes ago. Kira sighed, eyes dazzling with familiarity, one that she had only ever seen in the office with a client sitting on the sofa. “I doubt it- people don’t change overnight. I mean look at you, years away from your family and you’re still flooded with insecurity.”

“Thanks.” she scoffed harshly, “That makes me feel great.”

“Well, it’s true. Your husband is keeping something from you- probably was waiting for tonight to tell you. That’s why he was late. You’ll probably walk into the house and catch a glimpse of the young woman on his arm.” Kira’s tone began to mutate. The once playful sway that prompted her to open up about the thoughts beating against her skull now prompted a drawback and was open to unwarranted criticism.

“It’s what cheaters do-” She continued, turning the glass completely up her head, “they don’t care about hurting you because they don’t even care about themselves. And they probably hate you for putting up with them.”

Kira turned to her, much to her dismay as the atmosphere of the bar weighed dense with agitation. From Kira’s perspective, the heat that radiated off her body was present. “That’s not Kento. He would never.”

“Really?” She responded with laughter. “And that’s why you’re in a bar drinking away on your anniversary while he’s somewhere you don’t even know?”

Her hands tapped a little faster. Her body resembled a child, sitting and taking a lecture, remaining quiet. Wishing she could rewind before the start of this conversation with her. The lady with dark eyes and a drag in her words. Her hand planted flatly on the table, lifting her off the chair to lace fingers into the silkiness of her jacket, “Thank you for the drink, but I think it’s time for me to go.”

Kira’s eyes remained fixated on the glass in front of her, never daring to look back. It wasn’t until she turned her heel to leave that she spoke in an undertone, “Word of advice, sweetheart- leave. Don’t give him the satisfaction of watching you destroy yourself to keep him.”

All that mused Kira’s thoughts as she stormed out the doors of the bar was how she knew this wouldn’t be the last encounter. Because she wasn’t going to leave. How could she when things weren’t certain? Feelings of doubt like this were only reserved for new couples- not ones who were three years into their commitment.

Not when her mind was so fresh with the first meeting.

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MAY 2015

The air felt warm- the warmest it had been in months as spring made way for new bloomings. There was a faintness of sunlight, the clouds covering any shine. It was eleven thirty-seven- lunch break. She decided to stop by a local bakery, which was empty, except for the workers, a man, and herself. One that’s cologne filled the atmosphere, a gentle smell. She paced around between cakes and muffins, small cookies, and various breads. How could one person be allowed access to such large amounts of food? 

Moments passed, and she finally settled on two danishes before she heard a familiar buzz. Her next appointment was waiting in the office. She couldn’t wait for the blonde man in front to finish ordering as she set the danishes down and strolled out of the store, jogging back to the building. The patience she was willing to exhibit would have to wait. An hour later, the acid in her stomach was bubbling and growling. Causing her to run over to the bakery this time, which was now vacant of any customers. Picking up the two danishes and grabbing her wallet to pay- searching for an extra dollar or two to drop in the jar.

“These are already paid for, ma’am.” The cashier called out, standing on the opposite side. Her eyes moved slowly to the young lady’s face, attempting to see cracks in the expression. Surely she was being joked around with.

“I’m sorry?” She said sternly.

“These are already paid for.” The cashier repeated with a wide curve of her lips, as her fingers gently massaged her shoulder. “The man who was in here before you asked to put it on his receipt and give it to you once you came back.”

She was definitely joking now. The only people who were there were her and the man. But he stood in front of her, how could he have known that she wanted the danishes, or that she’d even come back to get them? Why would he even pay for a stranger’s food without knowing that for sure?

Those words echoed in her head as she walked to the office, with her stomach still growling. The pastries stayed untouched on her desk. Untouched as it dangled from her hand as she stood on the train. Her keys fell to the wooden countertop of her apartment along with it. For days staring at her each time she entered through the door,  growing a thin layer of grey spots over the fruit as it made its way to the now-hardened dough.

For a time, she avoided the bakery, fearing having to face the man and confess that she never even tasted the danishes he insisted the bakery girl give to her. She found herself back in there after four days once she had grown too curious to taste the tenderness of the pastry. The day that her teeth bit into the flaky and buttery crust was the day that she, fortunately, hadn’t encountered him. She intended to thank him and hand him the money it cost him whenever she got the chance to see him again. But every day that she was there, she didn’t catch a glimpse of the man- almost like he disappeared.

She’d imagine it would’ve been a simple interaction. Nothing more than a few moments and then silence. As he imagined that the interaction wouldn’t take more than a few seconds if he ever got the chance to see her again. He’d been working for longer hours, dozing off at his desk with his stomach roaring for attention. Too much work and his appetite was shot- that was a first. 

It had been only two years since his transition into corporate life. And he found himself dragging along, increasing an already wealthy corporation’s stocks. He wanted to convince himself that it was better than being a sorcerer. He was distraught, but accepting of his decision to leave that part of him in the past. He was screwing people over by selling them mucky stocks. But at least he wouldn’t have to see anyone he cared for arrive at the school tattered and dead. A cowardly move yet one that allowed him to have a shred of peace.

However, the peace didn’t satisfy him for long. Not when he’d stepped through the door, the aroma of fresh dough and baked fruits filled his nostrils. Only for his sights to be set on the winged creature wrapped around the cashier’s shoulder like a possessive cat.  It made his eyes burn with disgust, and shame. 

“Can you take a step forward?” The words came out harsher than he anticipated. Still, she took a step towards him- her grin hitched. With a swipe of his arm, too close to her face, he asked, “How is your shoulder?”

She rotated the joint, feeling ease near the point, “Woah, it feels so light.”

“If you still have an uncomfortable feeling in your shoulder, please go to the hospital.” He began to step away, “Pardon me.”

As he turned to make his way to the door, the familiar jingle of the bell rang. He stood there frozen in place, gripping the bag with his cassecroute. There she stood, huffing and ridden with beads of sweat on her forehead. She dressed in a long button-down and a skirt to combat the growing heat that swarmed over Japan’s temperature. The deepness of her brown skin glistened in the artificial lights while her dark coils of hair were held together in a puff high up on her head.

“Right on time, I have your usual Miss Y/N.” The girl called from behind him. A smile flashed across her face, raising her cheeks and showing her teeth. How hadn’t he seen her in here before?

“Thank you so much, you already know I had to run over here.”

“You usually do.” She commented which allowed a sprout of laughter to fill the bakery.

He watched her intensively, fingertips lingering on the packaged goods with a wad of paper peeking out of her palm- face brimming with delight. Her presence was unfamiliar- especially for this part of the city. That piqued his curiosity- she must have moved here not too long ago. The thought, however, wasn’t enough to form a conversation with her- which just prompted him to eye her like a deer in headlights.

“Sorry sir, are you finished with your order?” she asked in a voice that poured into his ears like honey. He wouldn’t be able to process that she’d been referring to him if he wasn’t looking directly at her. Her face began to contort with anxiousness as she raised her hand to his face, snapping her fingers in hopes of gaining his attention. “Um, sir- is everything okay?”

His eyelids fidgeted, “No- sorry.” He responded abruptly, twisting away and catching sight of his head back. Blonde and short, and familiar- though she couldn’t put her finger on why. Then it hit her- the faint scent of his hair. Almost as similar to the aromas that surrounded her but as potent as the cologne he was wearing. The same one she smelled the first day she was in here.

Her legs moved faster than her mind, and before long, she was already out the door. Prepared to chase him down if she needed to, though it wasn’t necessary- he was sauntering. “Excuse me, sir.”

His tracks stopped and his head peeped back over his shoulder, seeing her sweat-ridden face out the corner of his eye. A part of him wondered if he dropped anything on his way out and how awkward it would have been.  “Something wrong, Miss?”

She managed to notice his phone pressed up against his ear. “Uh, s-sorry. You’re on the phone, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“It’s not a problem- but you came out here in quite a hurry. I didn’t misplace something, did I?” He questioned, a tinge of irritation in his voice. She’d already felt like walking back inside, the embarrassment wasn’t worth it.

“Oh, is that woman? She sounds pretty.” She could hear the faintness of giggling through the speakers of his phone. Which only made the present irritation light with flames, and lifted a weight from her chest.

“Shut it!” He whispered loudly enough to be heard, resulting in him hanging up.

He turned back, brown eyes searching for hers. “Sorry about that. Co-worker, he’s a special character, to say the least.”

All she could do was stare into the eyes that looked into hers earnestly. There were etches of tiredness above his prominent cheekbones- ones that sunk in slightly, shaping out the rosy tint of his lips.  “So,” he started again, “ something you wanted to say?”

“Right, uh…” Her hands moved to the nape of her neck, fingers gliding over it. “I know this might sound weird, but I think I know you… Well, not really but I’ve smelt that cologne before so I know that I’ve seen you before or been in the same place as you.”

“You mean that place?” He responded, pointing behind her.

Her head snapped at the back of her to catch a glimpse of his direction. Dropping her sight to turn to him again. “You’re a comedian, I see.”

She laughed with saccharine sounds that caused an upturn in his mouth. He thought the peek of her teeth when she did so was pretty. Once she caught his gaze again, she stopped. “The point of me coming out here- I don’t know if you remember but the first time I came here, you kinda paid for the danishes that I wanted in the store.”

“I came back and the bakery girl told me what you did, which was kind of you. But I just haven’t seen you since to thank you.” She fumbled through her bag, getting out the wallet, “And well, give you this.” She stretched out to hand him a few crumpled bills that looked as though she ‘straightened’ them with the corner of a wall.

“There’s no need.”

“I insist,” she said, “I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while now. And I wouldn’t want to have to owe you back in the long run.”

“You don’t need to. It took nothing off of me, especially since you like them so much now.” 

She chose not to fight him on it, with his tailored suits, refined demeanor with high cheekbones, and a warm gaze- money probably wasn’t an issue. How could it be when he looked the way he did? She nodded slowly, “Guess I’ll see you around.” 

He nodded his head, watching as she widened the distance between the both of them. Making her way back to the bakery’s entrance. It would be a dime a dozen if he was able to spot her again. He wouldn’t be back over here getting his cassecroute anymore. Because he wouldn’t even be working that lousy company job.

She pulled him from his thoughts as he noticed her approaching him again, this time with less urgency than the first time, “My manners are shot, sorry. I didn’t even introduce myself. My name’s Y/N Y/L by the way.” She said, extending her hand to him.

He took her hand graciously, nearly making her flinch from the chilliness of his fingers. “Nice to meet you Y/N. I’m Nanami Kento.”

She smiled, “Nice to meet you, Nanami.”

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Nanami thought life was so much simpler when he wasn’t involved in the inconvenience of politics. Before he became aware of his ‘condition’. Back to the age of eight, when his parents were happy, and in a way- he was too. When his mother would hum as she cooked in the kitchen. She’d trod off to work with his father who dressed in his nice suits- tailored to perfection. They would always make it back home after his eyes had closed and soft snores escaped his mouth. They’d return to the kitchen where the supper was eaten and packed away by Chisa, his babysitter, who was between school terms.

They never had the heart to tell him about his father being laid off from work- prompting his long-term unemployment and Chisa’s obsoleteness. The difference in the atmosphere came almost instantly. His father was snappier with his eyes glued to his computer screen and his mother was barely home except for a few moments in the morning.  There was no time for the new adjustment, but at least he could stay in the comforts of his room- his little bubble and wait for things to return to the way they were. 

It was naive of him to believe so. Especially when his sight was fixated on the gremlin-like curses that hid from his mother and father’s vision- plaguing his home and tormenting him. How could a child tell their parents monsters existed and were leeching onto them like parasites?

His mother couldn’t fully comprehend what his babbling was about. Assuming that their lack of interaction was the cause of it. “Maybe you’re just imagining it, honey.” She told him with her hands running through his hair. “I promise things will get better soon.” Mumbling and groaning as she flopped on the bed with half-lidded eyes.

His father wasn’t willing to hear it- a child with an overactive imagination wasn’t foreign.  A person living in his own home like a freeloader, on the other hand, was. He nearly jumped at the opportunity to get back into the field, landing his first interview and leaving him to call back Chisa to look after Nanami for a few hours. She accepted though time wasn’t on her side.

Things began looking up as his father shook the CEO’s hand in agreement with his availability to work. He drove home feeling accomplished, excited to tell his wife that she didn’t need to kill herself off by working sixteen-hour shifts. That excitement quickly drained and filled his face with dread. Blood splattered on the hardwood and the walls. Chisa’s body, mangled and torn, laid promptly on the living room carpet.

His father’s eyes searched for him- checking the entry point of their home. Hearing faint sounds of crying coming from his room. Inside the closet, with his legs clenched tightly to his chest, Nanami rocked back and forth repeating through choked sobs, “It was the monsters, I swear.”

It was that thinking that got him into the college in the first place. Seeking out the institution he stumbled upon two guys, dawned in dark clothing covering every bit of their bodies aside from their hands and faces. Watching the white-haired one take down the curse with ease, similar to the curses he’s been seeing all his life. 

It was the dark-haired one who suggested he talk to their teacher, who oversaw the students' tasks and acceptance. The hardest part wasn’t getting accepted, but telling his parents what exactly he’d be doing for the next three years at this school. Making up some lies about how the college was supposed to help them get internships to work at different companies in the country. The lie flowed out so easily, almost scary how quickly it came from him. But to be met with his mother’s warm smile and his father’s accepting eyes was all that he needed.

He spent his days slashing at curses that were much too powerful for his standing. Days with one who was all too enthusiastic about being there. Yu Haibara, the young boy that kept him from drowning in the misery of responsibility. A responsibility that was much too grave for a couple of sixteen-year-olds to handle. That unfortunately resulted in the same fate that came down on Chisa going down on his friend.

He wished for simpler times again. Prayed for that light at the end of the tunnel, a purpose that would make the sacrifices of those around him feel worth it. Just a measly piece of hope- but he struggled to find one. How pitiful he felt when he graduated and left the last three years behind him. ‘It’s what you wanted’, is what he repeated to himself. But how could he when no one knew what they did? No one saw what they’d do to people- how they’d devour their victims without remorse? What type of pathetic man would allow that to happen to innocent people? The same pathetic man who was lying to his wife. 

He tapped his dress shoes anxiously, waiting to hear the turn of the door handle. Pondering his thoughts- how would she react to it? She loved him no doubt, but the play-by-play in his head told him this would end sourly. It was easier to be labeled as a child with an overactive imagination. To be an adult and preach the same gospel was a one-way ticket to padded walls and artificial light.

He heard footsteps before she walked through the door- standing suddenly as the keys jingled through the lock. There she stood, in a gorgeous blue slip dress that highlighted every curve, every rounded edge. A chuckle left her mouth as she finally met his eyes, “Well, it’s nice to see you’ve arrived somewhere before me.” She glanced over the table, toppled with his flowers in a vase and an envelope for her sitting next to it.

“Baby,”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me,” she stepped past him into the bathroom. He followed behind a few seconds later, catching a glimpse of her back before his hands stiffened close at his sides. On the lower end, stood a slimy green creature, coiled around her skin.

“Y/N, if I asked you to turn around, would you?” he asked as she stooped down to search the cabinets of the bathroom. His comment made her head turn up, straightening herself out.

“What are you talking about?.”

“If I asked you to turn around, can you?” he repeated.

Her shoulders began to fall as a sigh escaped her lips, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Please, just- please?” he begged further- hoping that at least he could do this one thing before she managed to rip him a new one. She turned away from him, hand gripping the edge of the countertop. When he was certain, he stepped forward, swiping his arm across the area. Lucky enough the curse wasn’t anything too big and the relief came almost instantly. It surprised her how lighter her back felt- one swift move from Nanami prevented a drive to the ER as soon as dawn broke. 

“How do you feel now?” he asked, voice present with curiosity. It was faint, the opposite of the tone her own had taken.

She shook her head, turning to face him, “Weirded out.” she whispered, “But furious no less. I mean- waiting in a restaurant for two hours is embarrassing enough but getting stood up by my husband is laughable.”

He could hear the tremble in those words. The rage that was laced with them as she spat more venom towards him. “Nothing to say for yourself?” she said, breaking through his thoughts. Being this close to her face allowed him to catch the scent of alcohol on her breath. The stench of tequila burned through every other aroma.

If the both of them were to have this conversation, it had to be when she was in the right mind to listen to him. Not that he believed he deserved the kindness of her ears, “You smell of alcohol, where have you been?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” she scoffed, picking up the wipes from the cabinet, and placing them down on the counter. His eyes stayed fixated on her face. Another spout of laughter came from her, “What?... You don’t believe me? Think I’m keeping something from you?” her head snaked up towards his ear, whispering into it.

He drew in a strong breath, “We can do a little without the sarcasm here, don’t you think?”

“No.” she drew away, and the wipe moved along the surface to clear off the foundation and blush. “What I can do with is the truth. What happened to you tonight?”

“Something came up.”

“Something like what?... Work?”

He kept a stiff face, but his response was even more predictable, “What do you mean like what? You know I have to work.”

“I don’t know, it’s just hard to work when you have no job.” She shrugged, continuing to rub off the foundation. She wished he didn’t make her spell it out for him- he was a smart enough man to know when he’d been caught.  Her frustration grew the longer the silence went on. Once the wipe was done, she turned to him again, “Fine- when did you leave your job?”

His eyes widened at the question, face draining of the red colour that printed over his cheeks and on his full lips. That was the best response she had gotten tonight, “I called the company today to figure out where the hell you were that you couldn’t be on time for our dinner. Imagine my surprise when they told me you quit, after having believed that that was where you were going off to in the mornings.”

His gaze softened, shame overtaking his features as she continued, “So, I’ll ask again, when did you leave your job?”

There was no use in lying to her now. His voice was small, the words coming out muttered. “December.”

“What date?”

He shook his head, jaw clenching at the persistence, “I don’t see how that makes a difference.”

“Humour me, Kento.”

“The 10th.”

“A point for truthfulness, give him an award.” Her hands slapped against one another as she cheered, steamrolling past him out of the bathroom to their shared bedroom. She stripped herself of earrings and bracelets, watching his figure come to life in the mirror- his body just inches behind. His hands were starting to feel moist, a thin layer of sweat ghosting over his palms.

“I had every intention of telling you, I just-”

“Then why didn’t you?” she spat, “Something getting in the way?” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Like hell you do,” the words came out in a rumble. She slammed the last of the jewelry on the dresser, turning to face him, “Late night phone calls, the distance, you walking through that door almost half an hour past time but I guess now I can see why.”

He said calmly, “Why don’t you just spit it out instead of beating around the bush?”

“Fine! Are you cheating on me?” The statement came blunt. A pin drop could be heard with the space the silence filled between them both. Her gaze moved away- fearful of his response or worse, his expression and ashamed of the insinuation. Nanami wasn’t a cheater- he wouldn’t do that to her. She knew that. She had to have known that.

Nanami could feel his eyes heat up with water. A lump caught in his throat as he followed the direction of her eyesight, focused on her painted toes. “You think I’m stepping out on you?” He took a few steps forward. His hands reached out to touch her face, cupping her cheeks. “That’s ridiculous. How can you even insinuate something like that?” His tone wasn’t berating, though it came off differently.

“Why should I believe you?” she shook her head lightly, “All you’ve been doing this entire time is lying to me.”

“There’s a clear issue here- accusations won’t help.”

Another chuckle erupted from her, “Oh, you’re insulted? Can’t imagine how that might feel.”

Her hands pried his from her face, stepping away from him as she slipped the straps from her shoulders. Her body was now bare, with only her underwear covering her. “What’s so funny?”

She searched through the drawers for a large t-shirt to put over her, feeling an instant chill from the exposure. “You. This. Everything. I mean- I feel like I’m going fucking crazy here.” shouts swelled from her throat, turning to him abruptly.

“You don’t kiss me the way you used to. You don’t talk to me the way you used to, I don’t know how your day was or what you dreamt about the night before… I mean, you’re sleeping on the fucking couch for Christ’s sake.” His stature hadn’t ceased yet, and he remained as still as she left him. A stitch of envy poked through the air- so much of her was exposed when he was shielded. Even his eyes, pools of a honey brown, appeared darker, more reserved. It infuriated her, to pathetically beg for answers to questions that wouldn’t come. Even more when she sensed the hot tears beginning to drench her cheeks.

Her body began to tremble as she spoke, fresh with anguish. She hobbled over to the bed, dragging her feet as she placed herself at the edge. “You come home and it’s like- you’re here but you’re not really here. And today,” she sniffled, wiping her nose, “today of all days, you decided to leave me in the restaurant that we made reservations for three months ago for two hours and only God knows why.”  

His distance was closing in, hands reaching out to touch her. His legs caged her thighs as he stood in front. The choked sobs coming from her throat, the shuddering of her face between his fingers- how could he do this?  She melted into his hands this time, looking up to follow the gaze of his eyes as they twisted in another direction. “Look at me, please.”

Her fingertip lightly grazed under his chin. “Tell me the truth. Tell me that this is all in my head, that I’m just drunk and not thinking straight. That there’s a reason for you quitting your job and keeping it from me for a year. That your behaviour is for a good reason- one that’s too out of the box for me to even have thought of.”

His breathing was ragged, paired with the deadpan of his stare. She knew what she was spewing tonight wasn’t unlikely. But god did she want it to be false. She just couldn’t believe it. She exhaled, tears continuing to drop from her eyelids. A million different scenarios of this conversation played in her head on the way here. Half of those included variations of this exact conversation. Ending with her, broken, rabidly scraping through bits of something that didn’t belong to her- recalling the familiar crack of her mother’s laugh.

She lingered a last effort to get the truth out of him. “Baby, please say something.” 

His expression was unreadable, making her more anxious than she had been the entire night. What more needs to be done? Eventually, there was a swift intake of air and his nostril flared. His eyes, maintaining contact with hers, were gentle,  “I shouldn’t-” He hesitated, his tongue lined with the grains of his answer. Her ears perked up gently, “I shouldn’t have married you.” 

Nanami’s tone came out so softly- she almost hadn’t recognized the words he said. Then the words registered- twisting her face into an unrecognizable expression. Shattering through her resolve, through what little careful maneuvering she did to prevent this. Fear. She searched for any implication that he was lying, but his demeanor remained. His eyes were unwavering- there was no thumping of his heartbeat that pounded against her eardrums. No bob of his Adam’s apple or trembling on his lips.

An isolated vibration echoed through the walls of the apartment. The tremors of her body that had longed to snap, ceased. She pushed past him, skipping to her bag on the dresser top. Answering the phone as quickly as her hands could swipe.

“Hello, this is Y/N,” she greeted politely, hoping her voice wouldn’t be deceitful. Though she focused on the phone call, her attention never left Nanami. “Good night to you- no this isn’t a bad time, is everything okay?”

“No, I should be off for the next two weeks. Tell Mr. Getou he can book with me sometime in November when I get back.” She explained. In the instant, she could see his eyes narrow though she couldn’t understand why. “Any day past November 1st is fine. Okay- no problem. Bye.”

She took the phone from her ear, placing it on the dresser as she blew out a huff of air before she could hear his voice calling out again. “Getou?”  He questioned, fingers tracing over his palm while he stood. Her mouth never opened nor did her eyes make their way back to him.

“It’s late and you’re tired. Maybe we should talk about it in the morning.” He explains- attempting once again to move closer, every step he took- she took one as well in the opposite direction. His whole body felt clammy now. “I should probably go, give you a good night’s rest.”

He moved towards the door, fire burning hot in his belly, creating a pit in his stomach.

“Kento,” she called out, causing him to turn. “There’s a hotel that I passed on my way over here. On route with that bar, you pass to get to…” she paused briefly, “used to pass to get to work.”

He nodded, turning on his heel to exit through the door. She heard the familiar turn of the knob and then the faint click in place as the door closed. Leaving her in the loneliness of the living room as the tears rained down from her waterline.

“I shouldn’t have married you.” She didn’t know if it was one of the only truths he told tonight. But he knew he should’ve stayed, held her tightly with his thumbs rubbing circles into the rolls of her back. He knew it was sinister to have left her to meticulous thoughts. The way his own was inked with the same fixation as his hands laid steadily on the wheel. The streets were quiet with a drizzle and fog covering the once-dark sky- surrounding the car with a thin veil of gray. 

The words tasted of bile and acid once they slipped from his tongue, scorching through tissue and muscle. It’s all that was coming to him at the moment. Here he was met with the opportunity to be honest, to explain what he intended to and his words came out wrong. Maybe he didn’t feel the need to defend himself too heavily. He knew things other people didn’t and kept things other people wouldn’t. Maybe he did regret meeting her- marrying her and keeping her all to himself. Maybe in this scenario, on this occasion- he was the bad guy. 

How could he not be when the love of his life now believed she plagued his thoughts with her inadequacy?

The words replayed over and over, wiggling their way through his brain like an earworm. Even as badly as the utterness of Getou’s name. It had to be a different person. It couldn’t be the person he thought it was. But getting to the school through a vulnerable source- a non-sorcerer, a human who was believed to be a waste- that screamed the person he once knew. It made him even sicker to think about how that source was his wife. It soured his mind even more- what was his reason for even targeting her?

Nanami would have to tell her the truth, in hopes that she could believe him and that through that, she’d understand the dangers that Getou posed to her. She wouldn’t believe him, but he’d be willing to do whatever it took to get her there. His mind also ran on Gojo for a brief moment as he came to a stop at the light. He’d have to call him in the morning too, it could be nothing after all. But their lives were never so lucky.

He pressed gently down on the gas searching around to see the bright signs indicating the entrance to the building. He noticed the light first, the shine of it nearly blinding his view. Then came the screech of a tire that made him crack his neck to the side. The car in the opposite direction collided head-first with his side sending an initial wave of shock over his body, feeling a sharp pain. The car drifted, stopping swiftly due to the dullness of the asphalt- flipping it on its side, again and again and again until the car rested on its top. 

It left him dangled above the ground, blood gushing out of his head. The sharp pain pierced through his sides. Nanami didn’t have the energy to scream so his eyes just moved around slowly, catching a small glimpse of a car next to him. The car was on its side with its driver a few feet away from it, blood drenching the silver strands in their hair. His sight was starting to get droopy, he couldn’t even make out the figure approaching, “Oh my god, someone call the ambulance!” He didn’t hear anymore after that- his eyes grew too heavy and shut too abruptly.

“Someone please call the ambulance.” The man through the screen shouted out with his hands pressed down to the source of the blood. Her fingers pressed the buttons of the remote shakily, with a bag of sweets taking refuge in her other hand. She thought she’d be asleep by now. Ten twenty-six and her eyes were clawing for rest as she flicked from channel to channel. It was apparent that she should be in her right mind to talk to Nanami tomorrow. But sleep was evading her- preventing her from escaping the nightmare of the night into a dream of a new day. Even blinking took too much energy.

She wondered what could even be said in the morning. If anything he said tomorrow could take back the words of confession he revealed tonight. If it could fill the black hole in her chest that widened with each passing minute. The intention of tonight was to get him to tell the truth- the whole truth. He hadn’t told her what she expected but what was the difference in what he said? 

Her fingers continued to switch through station after station, almost on its own before she made it to the news channel. Nothing caught her attention- there were the typical weather reports, local crime in the area- nothing too out of the ordinary. At this rate, she might as well force the sleep on.

Before she could think to turn off the television, something flashed quickly over the screen. A crash- two colliding cars that left one of the participants dead on the spot. Though she wasn’t sure why, there was this awful pit in her stomach that prevented her from switching it off. Her eyes scanned over the bright lights to piece together the crime scene. And then she noticed the car. The car was exactly like Nanami’s- scratches and scraps painting the doors. The same paint job, the same model. The street was the exact one she passed to get home- the one she suggested he take to get him to the hotel. What were the odds, right?

The words of the reporters began to drown out, just mumbles crowded the atmosphere. The only sounds that got through were those of her heartbeat, threatening to burst out of her chest. She could feel the bottom of her belly tingle, the emptiness of her stomach, and the build-up of urine that suddenly appeared. Even the saliva accumulating in her mouth became almost too watery. Her fingers were nimble and trembling as she let the remote slip from her grasp. 

She nearly jumped out of her skin to get to the phone, “Hello ... .this is she.” There were constrictions around her throat, tightening as more warm tears were attempting to spill from her eyes. “Is he okay?...”

It didn’t take long to get to the hospital after the lady had told her where to go. The difficult part was not being able to see him. The doctor let her know that he had some cranial bleeding and two of his ribs had broken. One of them pierced through his spleen, which they planned to remove. Sitting in the crowded lobby, picking at her fingernails, she watched countless people passing in and out. Their injuries spanned from stomach aches to deep lacerations to full limbs missing from their bodies. The blood that dripped from the wounds added to her unease.

“You must be Nanami’s lovely lady. Y/N, right?.” She heard an upbeat voice call to her from above. Her vision slowly examined the slender body of a man who dawned dark slacks and a white button down. Dark glasses over his eyes with a dazzling white smile and hair to match. He extended one hand out while the other was occupied with a can of soda. Her attention left him as she continued to pick at her nail beds.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He continued, placing himself in the empty seat next to her. “I’ve heard much about you.”

Her head remained away from his direction, “Strange, I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you.”

“Ah, the businessman must be embarrassed talking about me or something.” He joked, soft giggles leaving his lips as his eyes studied the pattern of footsteps passing them every few seconds. His gaze made its way back to her face, with the same grin printed on, “Well, in that case- I’m Gojo Satoru.”

She figured if he knew who Nanami was, he was an associate of his. Maybe one from his new ‘job’ that she hadn’t known about. Not that she knew of any friends from the company. But, this was Gojo- the man sitting next to her with his legs crossed over one another- the same man whose name brightened up on Nanami’s phone late in the night. Strangely enough, with this new information of his identity- it made his appearance glow.

How’d he even know to come here? Did he get a call too? Was he watching the news like she had been and decided to rush over here? “Gojo,” She whispered to herself, barely audible to anyone else. One moment with him, and he was consuming empty spaces of her thoughts- the ones that weren’t occupied with Nanami.

Almost as if he had been reading her mind- his voice lowered to a whisper. Taking a sip from his can, he voiced plainly, “The lady at the front desk called me. I was in the area so it didn’t take me very long to get over here.” In the area? This was the closest hospital to the crash- how could he know about it so soon unless he was already here. Was this man on his emergency contacts list? Before his parents? Before…

“You must’ve been so worried. Car crashes in weather like this seem so obvious, but I’m sure that’s not really what you wanna hear, right?” He continued, nearly unaware that her attention was anywhere except the conversation. He briefly caught a glimpse of the vacant expression that washed over her features, “Hey, you okay?”

It wasn’t a long silence as she turned to him, being met with the intensity of his eyes. An icy shade of blue- nothing like the warmth that came from Nanami’s.  “Can I ask you a question?” She asked hesitantly. He nodded, eyes so bright it felt like he was peering into her soul. It left her naked under the lens of his scope. But not vulnerable enough to pass the opportunity to question him, “What’s your relationship to Kento anyway? What is it that the two of you do?”

The smile he had worn before changed, turning it into a solemn expression as he answered, “He didn’t tell you?” His voice sounded concerned, though it only read to her as some sort of confirmation. There was a bob in his throat as he took another sip of soda, “Maybe I’m not the best person to tell you about it then.”

“I don’t think it really matters.”

She focused back on her hands that lay steady in her lap, thumbs circling around each other. He contorted in his chair, resting his knee up on the chair’s back as his elbow rested on the top, “Look, whatever happened between you and Nanami tonight, it’s not his fault- I mean not entirely at least.”

There was a curve of her lips, shaking her head as he pleaded with her. “I’m serious. I mean he’s been ranting about how shitty everything’s been lately- how he wishes things were easier. I mean it took him weeks to find some good plane tickets to Malaysia.”

The sentence made her fingers stop, and her blood ran cold. The envelope on the table… His hands clamped over his mouth as fast as the words came out. “Shit- I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

He wasn’t sure what her reaction would be to him spilling such an important secret. He knew if Nanami was awake, he’d strangle him for opening up his big mouth. But all she did was chuckle, “It’s fine- I’m happy about how unintentional your honesty was just now. I needed it.”

“Mrs. Nanami Kento,” The overhead speaker boomed through the ceiling, alerting every person whose eyes weren’t too tired to close. She took one last look at Gojo and then rushed to the front desk instantly, watching as the woman’s face stared patiently at the blinding screen in front of her. “Your husband’s out of surgery. You can see him now.”

She took a step away from the desk, up the elevator then straight down to the end of the hall- the post-anesthesia care unit. Her body stopped just before she could make it to the opening. She wasn’t sure what to expect, more fearful of what couldn’t be done. She hadn’t seen the effects- all that ate away at her was guilt.

And when she found herself turning the corner to see the damage, she was stunned by the image of him lying there. Half of his face was covered in scratches while a wide gash printed over the base of his forearm up to his bicep. The wound was held together by fresh sutures while his upper torso was covered with a large gauze. Another gauze printed over the other side of his torso, though it was much lower. His blonde hair now resembled a faint red.

“Kento,” she croaked, falling to her knees at his side as the welted tears came forth again. She took his hand in hers, thumbs ghosting over his knuckles delicately. His breathing was being taken care of by the ventilation machine- pulse oximeter tracking his heart rate which was stable for the moment. But the look of him made her stomach collapse inside itself.

“You can’t even allow me the courtesy of being angry with you for the night- you’re so selfish.” She starts up again, attempting to smile through the flames that were engulfing her lungs, “I mean- you weren’t cheating, though a part of me isn’t convinced. Your friend, Gojo… he’s very pretty, too pretty for his own good.”

She waited. After a while, there was no response, only the tranquil sound of beeping. It didn't raise, or slow down at all. There was no flutter of his eyelids, or huskiness in his voice, or movement in his fingers. There was nothing but a shell of him and the shame printed on her face. Whether it be through her suggestion of route or her persistence in fighting with him tonight- there was no denying it.

“Baby, you can’t go now- not like this.” She begged, lips pressed against his knuckles as her forehead rested on his thigh. She felt her eyes growing weary, if only she could fight it. She didn’t wish to sleep, or for the day to end. Not when there was a possibility that tomorrow would come with more pain.

“Please, just come back… come back to me…” Her voice crept into a lower tone, hoping that her prayer would only be heard by the ears of her unconscious husband. 

She wasn’t sure when she’d fallen asleep. Nor was she sure what dreams her mind had come up with to pass the time, but the sound of shuffling, a loud crackle in voice, and a tap on her shoulder were enough to wake her. She was met with multiple attendees by the bedside, pushing her to the corner of the room, closest to the door. 

“Start the compressions now.”

It wasn’t until she was fully conscious, rubbing her eyes to notice the stable noise of the machine. Nanami’s pulse was dropping rapidly, which left her panicked. She attempted to jump through the crowd of people, reaching her hand out to simply feel the tips of his fingers. Only to be pulled back by one of the attendees in the room. “Ma’am, please don’t move.”

Her gaze moved towards Nanami’s hand- the only sight of him that she was allowed to see in the ocean of bodies. The doctor's hands were placed across his chest, pumping up and down. “His vitals are dropping and fast.” He continued, now opting for defibrillators, the nurse attaching the pads across his chest. 

He rubbed the two pads together before yelling “Clear!” A jolt came from Nanami’s body, but the ringing persisted. Another wave of electricity flowed through him though it didn’t do much, the consistent sound continued to torment her ear.

And then came that abrasive chime, the flatline. 

For that moment the room went still, and she found herself in the position of multiple pairs of eyes to stare, inspect her expression. She couldn’t take her eyes off of his still hand, unmoving with the warmth draining as fast as the colour from her face. The words grew stuck on her tongue and the acid in her stomach churned to burn her insides. There was nothing but the sound of the machine.

The doctor finally broke the silence clearing his throat to speak in a low voice, “Call it. Time of death- 11:10 AM.”

━━━━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━━━━━━

They say death is supposed to be peaceful. To be rid of a hell that wasn’t of a person’s own choosing. Born into a world so cruel and spiteful to its inhabitants riddling them with anger and loss. It was what consumed her throughout the week, as her phone rang to contact her parents-in-law. A piece of her wished she had someone close enough to call, to just bask in their comfort while her head spiraled. To heat the numbness that chilled her exterior.

Here she was, making pointless conversation in the small room as people one by one came to place their flowers and make their amends. Nanami’s mother stood close to her, holding her hand in hers as she wept. His father was closer to the door, talking to colleagues while he glanced at the urn in front, filled with his son’s ashes. She couldn’t wait to step away from the crowds of sadness that drenched everyone’s faces. She caught a glimpse of a similar mess of white hair with the same shades. Next to him stood a much shorter woman with long brown hair and bags under her eyes. There was wetness on her cheeks and her hands were crossed over her chest. All Gojo had done was bow his head to her.

Within the next week’s time, her final sessions came to a close- though she could never get a hold of Getou. She assumed that he might’ve been busy- talking about loss was complicated.

It took everything in her to pack away the life she curated in boxes. To deplete her hopes and dreams into failure. To tear the memories of their love and lust, of their pain and anguish from the walls of their apartment. To see remnants of them in the people she would interact with, in the fragments of him he left her to grasp onto. It turned into an empty lot with the boxes piled away in trucks ready to become pieces of someone else’s memories. Invaluable pieces of her life that she used to end the consistent nagging from the landlord.

If she’d known, if only she had known- she’d never let him walk out that door. She’d never be forced to grip the envelope for dear life- her last bit of him. Even as she focused through the window, seeing wide sheets of clouds over the horizon, the words of him, his last, replayed to her like a song.

To My Y/N, My apologies mean nothing to you- they shouldn’t after how I’ve been behaving these past few weeks. I’m so sorry. I wish I could’ve told you sooner- I hope that someday I will be able to let you know about the piece of my life I’ve wished to hide from you. I know I do not deserve the blessing to hold your ears nor your kindness. I know that your love for me is one that I could spend a thousand years looking for and never find anything close to it. I hope you know, that you were never a second priority, you are and have always been the brightest star in my sky. Love, Kento

Marriage was sometimes painful- scornful even. But death was peaceful, just not for those who remained.

YELLOURR © 2024

[pazodetrasalba]

Signalling

Dear Caroline:

This is one of those few cases when, before reading your blog, I had actually intellectually engaged with the author you reference. Amongst my routines is forcing myself to read every year at least one book that I suspect I will intensely disagree with, and try to use some steel-manning of its arguments to expand my horizons and make sure that I keep to my beliefs for the right reasons. Caplan's The Case Against Education was my choice about a couple of years ago, and you can imagine that the thesis advanced in that book is designed to be as irksome as possible for a teacher.

I found his arguments therein not entirely convincing, but much more so than I had expected. While he does hyperbolically overstate the importance of job market signalling and the inefficiency of higher education, with toned-down numbers, a lot of what he says seems reasonable. I would side here with Sean Illing's verdict that "You make a lot of interesting points in the book, many of which I had not considered before. Ultimately, though, I think you confuse your indictment of the education system as it currently exists with an indictment of education as such".

I hadn't heard of his poor-shaming arguments, but I can't say I am surprised, as he is a hardcore, libertarian provocateur. And yet when I first read your post, I was a bit surprised by your animosity, as I had assumed that there are at least some levels in which Caplan can be seen as EA/Rationalist adjacent, as in his openness to immigration and his adversarial defense of unconventional ideas. Some of the other George Mason University Econ Dudes have also had much to say about and with EA, like in this talk from last December by Tyler Cowen.

On what you say here, though, you are 100% spot on, so much so it seems a waste of words to add anything to it. As usual, it showcases your intelligence, insight and human empathy, a 'straight and to the core' argument that doesn't get sidetracked in the anecdotal and a very humble and realistic conclusion. It is easy to talk and to preach self-righteously from positions of relative comfort, but one of the best parts of the Lord's Prayer is the 'Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil '. In Tolkien's letters he makes some very good reflections on this, connected with Frodo's 'fall' at Mount Doom.

Quote:

The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien

Frodo undertook his quest out of love – to save the world he knew from disaster at his own expense, if he could; and also in complete humility, acknowledging that he was wholly inadequate to the task. His real contract was only to do what he could, to try to find a way, and to go as far on the road as his strength of mind and body allowed. He did that. I do not myself see that the breaking of his mind and will under demonic pressure after torment was any more a moral failure than the breaking of his body would have been – say, by being strangled by Gollum, or crushed by a falling rock.

JRR Tolkien - Letter 246