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french-unknown · 6 months

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑: sanji 𝐂/𝐖: fluff, domestic 𝐖/𝐂: 2.1k +

| m a s t e r l i s t |

𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐛𝐲 @𝐭𝐡𝐞-𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭-𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐲𝐞

𝐀 = 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?

Between the fact that he screams your name day and night or the acts of service he provides you, Sanji is affection incarnate!

He will always be there to shower you with compliments and to prove to you through a thousand poems and prose how much he loves you. He blesses the ground you walk on so he will do everything to make you the best you can be. He will always take care of you and that includes food. Being a cook who is passionate about food, it is obvious to him that every grain of rice he cooks for you will show you his unconditional love.

𝐁 = 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?

✧ Very flirty ✧ A little heavy on the jokes sometimes often ✧ Will always do his best to comfort you and make you feel confident

You met on the Baratie while he was still a cook there. You were already part of the Straw Hat crew alongside Luffy, Zoro, Nami and Usopp and you stopped at the marine restaurant like in the manga. His "slave for women" side, however, made you very skeptical at first and even put you off a little because you didn't think he was sincere. And yet, once you sailed together a bit and realized that he was truly willing to sacrifice the world for women, you grew closer.

SOURCE | onepiece.fandom.com - Baratie

𝐂 = 𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒

Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?

Having been deprived of affection for a very long time, Sanji craves physical contact and, therefore, cuddles.

However, he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable so he will go as far as you allow. If you're not comfortable with the touch, he'll hold back other than light touches every now and then when you're in private. But, if you are absolutely not bothered by cuddles, expect to see him transform into a human koala always nearby to hold your hand, hug you or kiss you.

All you have to do is punish him by refusing any physical contact and it will be the end of the world for him!

𝐃 = 𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂

Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?

Totally!

Sanji doesn't go through the "we're just having fun" phase when he's interested in you because he skips all the steps to get straight to "this will be the only love of my life and we die together before being buried, entwined for eternity". He's a bit dramatic.

When it comes to household chores, he makes a point of being the one who prepares meals because that's how he shows his love and care for you. In addition, he is very particular about maintaining his spaces, bordering on manic, so cleaning will have a huge place in his heart. Everything has its place, and each place has its thing!

𝐄 = 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?

He won't break up.

He has such a fear of being abandoned or not being loved that he will be incapable of ending your relationship on his own. He will not be able, physically, emotionally and mentally, to decide to separate himself from a source of love. He will therefore do his best to maintain your relationship even if it is not fulfilling and he no longer loves you. If you don't leave him, he will remain a prisoner with you until he dies.

𝐅 = 𝐅𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄(𝐄)

How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?

He is in love with the concept.

Despite everything he suffered in his childhood, he dreams of forming his own couple and his own family in which he will be able to assume the role of protector in the same way that he would have liked to be protected when he was younger. He has so much love to give that he will imagine marriage very quickly in your relationship.

𝐆 = 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄

How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?

Mr. Prince does not hurt his partner. Period.

𝐇 = 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐒

Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?

He loves the hugs of unconditional love. He loves feeling you in his arms and knowing that you are with him and that you chose him, it's the most exhilarating feeling he knows. If you're okay with cuddling, he'll keep you with him until you have enough.

𝐈 = 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔

How fast do they say the L-word?

Very quickly.

He is used to love confessions of all kinds so he will tell you that he loves you in every possible and unimaginable way. Whether it's dramatic or not.

𝐉 = 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘

How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?

Unfortunately, he gets jealous extremely quickly.

He's too afraid that you'll leave him or that you'll stop loving him in favor of someone else, so it's going so far as to make him sick. The crew aside, he's incapable of staying on his own when he knows you're with other people and, at the slightest change in your relationship, he'll be immediately worried that you're cheating on him or that you found better elsewhere. He already opened some of your letters before you and lied it was Luffy who thought it was for him.

𝐊 = 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒

What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?

He has a whole range of kisses at his disposal that go from simple kisses on any part of your body to long languorous kisses that you share in the kitchen when the whole crew is busy elsewhere.

However, he really enjoys kissing the back of your hand and your fingers. He loudly proclaims that it's because he is a gentleman as well as your servant knight��and that kissing the hand is therefore required—but you suspect him of having something for your hands in the same way as his.

𝐋 = 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒

How are they around children?

He is very caring towards them in general.

If you have children, on the other hand, he will melt like snow in the sun and be totally crazy about them. To the point where it will scare them to tears during the first few weeks. I also see him being the kind of father to shame them in public when they are teenagers with as ridiculous nicknames as possible.

𝐌 = 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

How are mornings spent with them?

Unfortunately, he gets up every day at five in the morning to start preparing breakfast for the crew, so waking up together is almost impossible.

𝐍 = 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

How are nights spent with them?

You know when it's coming because it's like adding a weighted blanket on top of your usual one.

He is extremely cuddly during the night and, even if he tries to stay away from you, he will automatically come and snuggle up to you as soon as he falls asleep. He doesn't care about the position or if he's the big or little spoon. As long as it's you, he's happy.

𝐎 = 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍

When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?

He will easily fill you with the story of his childhood from the moment he met Zeff but, understandably, it is mentally impossible for him to tell you about his life among the Vinsmoke.

Even after you find out about his father and birth family, he will steadfastly refuse to talk about it.

𝐏 = 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

How easily angered are they?

He will be as patient as an angel towards you.

This is no more his natural behavior than his morbid need to escape from any argument with you. He will never disagree since, for him, an argument can be a reason for a breakup so it is out of the question whether he provokes or maintains one. Even if something annoys him, he will bury it.

𝐐 = 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐄𝐒

How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?

EVERYTHING!

Nothing gets through, he will remember everything he can about you in a completely disinterested way. He wants to know everything about you.

𝐑 = 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑

What is their favorite moment in your relationship?

The Sunny sailed calmly on the waves while you stood on the support next to the bar that separated the kitchen from the dining room.

Sanji, in front of you, was spring cleaning his kitchen and painstakingly sharpening his knives while you talked to him about everything you had been thinking about lately. From the most futile thought to the unfolding of countless thoughts without any particular connection. Yet he listened to you attentively and lovingly. He didn't want to miss any of your words. When he had finished doing everything he could do in the kitchen like cleaning the host, cleaning the cupboards or even polishing the few pieces of silverware you had, he went to the dining room and got one of the chairs.

He then dragged it to the fridge before quietly guiding you to your new seat. He kissed you on the hand that he had used to guide you, and then he opened the fridge door with a piece of paper and a pencil in his hands. He was still conscientious about listening to every single one of your words.

He began to write down all the ingredients he had available and in what quantities. You suddenly stopped talking, preferring to watch him seriously write down his notes but he lifted his head to turn it towards you. A pout split his lips while his eyes softened.

"You don't talk anymore?" he asked, sad.

"You seems busy." You answered him with a smile.

Immediately, he threw his notebook and pen on one of the shelves in order to run towards you and take you in his arms without the slightest delicacy. He placed a hundred kisses on the top of your head before replacing them with his cheek.

“But I wanted to hear more from you.” he whined.

𝐒 = 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘

How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?

Very protective. As mentioned above, he sees himself as your knight in shining armor so it will be his role to protect you and keep you safe. In his eyes, at least.

So, if he finds himself in a position where you are the one protecting him, he will see it as a failure on his part and will blame himself for not having been up to the task.

𝐓 = 𝐓𝐑𝐘

How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?

He puts colossal effort into it! It's very pleasant to see him turn earth and sky with the sole aim of satisfying you.

However, it sometimes gets to the point where he sometimes does a little too much. It can be silly, like cooking a meal for 30 people when you're both alone with no one around for kilometers or brazenly flaunting yourself in front of people to the point where everyone around you looks at you strangely. He won't do it on purpose but he will let himself be too carried away by his need to impress you.

𝐔 = 𝐔𝐆𝐋𝐘

What would be some bad habits of theirs?

He is and will always remain obsessed with women and, although he loves you from the bottom of his heart, he will always be ecstatic over every woman who passes in front of his eyes.

Moreover, if you are jealous of his "love crises", he will tend to take your jealousy badly because he does not consider those women as something serious. He will therefore be very annoyed internally if you condemn him or reprimand him simply out of jealousy. It is a shame when you think about how jealous he himself is.

𝐕 = 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘

How concerned are they with their looks?

He is very particular about his look.

He makes it a point of honor to always be dressed appropriately with well-washed and ironed suits, ties and matching cufflinks. He also takes great care of his personal hygiene, his smell, the way his hair is styled and the condition of his skin.

He is so proud of his appearance and the way he dresses that he will go completely crazy if you decide to wear some of his clothes (especially his shirts and his blazers) whether to sleep or for all- days outfits.

𝐖 = 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄

Would they feel incomplete without you?

Sadly, yes.

He needs your presence—and above all, your love—in order to fully flourish and be happy. The fact that you are not by his side can quickly turn into a tragedy.

𝐗 = 𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀

A random headcanon for them

The moments, not the most appropriate, when Sanji wants cuddles:

✧ In the middle of fighting. As long as you find yourself on the ground, you will see out of the corner of your eye that the blond quickly approaches you, despite the enemies, to rush to hug you to make sure that you are not injured.

✧ In front of Zoro. He knows that the swordsman isn't a big fan of public displays of affection, whether for himself or others, so Sanji sometimes makes a point of cuddling you in front of Zoro. And that's just to annoy him.

✧ In front of acquaintances or strangers you are talking to. He is very jealous so, if he finds that you stay too long with someone he doesn't know, he will stick to you with a tone that is much too honeyed.

𝐘 = 𝐘𝐔𝐂𝐊

What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?

He wouldn't want to be with someone who is a picky eater. He doesn't care if there are some foods you don't like, it happens to everyone, but he won't agree to date someone who doesn't like anything and doesn't like trying new textures or flavors.

People who waste their meals or throw them away without eating everything are also unbearable to him.

𝐙 = 𝐙𝐙𝐙

What is a sleep habits of theirs?

He tends to regularly have nightmares about his childhood and, although you don't understand what he experienced, it seems to be extremely painful physically as well as emotionally.

You wake him up when you witness it, but sometimes you wake up in a cold bed with Sanji going outside to smoke a cigarette in the middle of the night to relax.

Well done, you found my 2nd Easter Egg! 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐚 ★ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭★

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @iheartamora @bontensh0e @opchara @idsmash717 @lys-ada @xomingyu @dozcan123 @anotherproblemsos @phsycochan

#one piece #one piece x reader #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #one piece alphabet

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jerrardsjournal · 8 months

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AN OPEN LETTER TO BLACK WOMEN.

i wanna open my letter to y’all by saying I love y’all. My life is dedicated to finding me a beautiful black woman and loving her in ALL WAYS always. i am a flawed man that has definitely disappointed a few women along this journey of understanding what truly matters in regards to love. BUT IM STILL HERE. finding new layers to love and to myself all with one goal: to find me a black woman who i can give my all too.

a quick search will show you that historically speaking black men go for other races way more than black women. On the flip side, y’all stayed looking for love from a black man and that type’a loyalty should be rewarded from us. And i’m deeply sorry that we’ve let a lot of y’all down.

I hope that whoever reads this knows that, while we (black men) DEFINITELY need to improve, it’s not all without reason. It’s widely documented that as a black man we’re at the bottom of the hierarchy and that position comes with its own unique set of plights. i’ll use the most overused example: money.

For a black man finding a career that leads to success is like finding a needle in a haystack. From family dynamics, environment, and a lack of proper educational resources, black men are at a disadvantage when it comes to finding a career.

And as it becomes more difficult to live comfortably in america without high skill level jobs (one’s that we don’t get because america has deemed us incapable) black men are pushed further behind. Our value as a black man in America is deemed by how much more money can we make the establishment than other black men. Imo, that’s the only way to get these top tier jobs. Whereas other races just show up as themselves because america has accepted them. that’s how they keep blacks in the rat race.

Shit goes even deeper when you think about how society puts so much emphasis on money determining the value of a man only to offer black people less for simply being black. i’ve seen the stories of black people applying for jobs and getting offered less compensation than their peers with similar credentials.

a lot of discourse online right now is in response to Tyler Perry and his stance on relationships. I do believe he’s right when he suggests realigning your priorities to find love. i simply wish he wouldn’t have solely directed his comments toward BW and accepting less when they deserve MORE.

His example of a man only being able to pay the light bill and for BW to be okay with that is irresponsible. It’s based in hyperbole and doesn’t truly address the nuance of dating and finding love as a whole.

now i’m sure there are situations where, depending on relationship dynamics, a BM might only have enough for one bill because of other financial obligations and hardships. Whether we’d like to admit it or not, not all of us are destined for 6 figure lifestyles. & not all of us are going to be able to overcome the handicaps that come with being black.

If a man finds a woman to accept him and his circumstances then HE HAS to pour into her in other ways. He has to remove himself from the idea that money/sex is the only thing that determines his value. because i guarantee you that only being able to pay one bill will make him insufferable. He’s going to look past all the other ways he could bring value simply because he’s not able to provide in the way he wants. Then he’s going to take it out on his partner because his ego is bruised which causes him to be spiteful. AND…in all of that STILL expect the BW to be there to make him feel better. THATS WRONG!

we need to be teaching our BM how to overcome these obstacles built to tear down black people as a whole. Financial literacy, proper support of our BW, changing societal influences, etc. Its not the responsibility of BW to accept less. It’s our responsibility to do more.

i think people as a whole need to remove the importance money/success plays into their lives. Stop using what white people have historically done and trying to mimic that for your own lives. They operate within a set of rules that we’ve never been afforded. And even with the rules in their favor not all white people get to see the generational wealth we all so desperately want.

Harsh truths are helpful towards progress. so i think it’s important to say that some of us aren’t going to acquire crazy success to live an above average life by financial metrics. Most BM are going to need the help of a BW to build a lifestyle that suits their needs and desires.

if you don’t want to accept that then i see one of two outcomes: you being alone until you get where you want be in life cause you don’t wanna waste time/hurt someone. or you hurting someone cause you can’t handle being alone while also devaluing your worth because you don’t have money to back it up.

with all that i leave off with two things:

BM - it’s time for us to start correcting each other properly. It’s time to spread the message that it’s on us to do more. and that doesn’t have to always mean money. work on your character, your mindset to relationship commitment, your ability to love your BW fully on a consistent basis and what that truly means.

BW - my questions to you all are: when can we discuss the adverse effects of y’all loving black men so much that y’all treat us as a monolith when we all aren’t the same? When will black men get grace for being brought up in a society that historically disenfranchised them? being brought up in a society that doesn’t promote the highest levels of love and companionship but instead promotes surface level intimacy disguised as love. all the while stripping black people of a family unit to protect us from that influence. yes, we have hurt so many of y’all countless times. but grace isn’t y’all sticking around because you love us. grace isn’t attributing mistakes to a black man’s character in perpetuity. For example if a man lies, that doesn’t make him a liar FOREVER;he just lied in his past. but a man that murders is a murderer FOREVER because that’s too extreme to shed off. however, i feel like there’s no difference between the two with y’all.

PS: i hope one day we can all see that america destroyed the black family and left black people to fight amongst ourselves over who’s to blame for that. and who’s to blame for us hurting each other from the pain of living our reality for the past 400+ years.

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ccmpletemess · 1 year

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〔 jesse lee soffer, 38, cis man, he/him ) phineas prescott was seen listening to broken arrows by avicii. phin is a lawyer and known to be studious & pessimistic.

trigger warnings: homophobia, abuse, death, car accident

Phineas was born into a wealthy, traditional family. His parents were strict, wanting Phineas to be nothing less than the 'perfect' child they'd pictured in their minds.

He was a very studious child, keeping his head down, preferring books rather than the company of people. He wasn't particularly good at making friends, his younger sister Cordelia was always the more sociable one.

Phineas learned rather quickly that it was better to stay in line, even with the little things, as he would be punished. The excuse of clumsiness fell from his lips far often than not, the boy learning to patch up injuries far earlier than he should have. He would often take the brunt for Cordelia, claiming any mistakes she made as his own.

Cordelia's best friend was Ophelia, a family friend who Phin grew to see as another little sister. He'd do anything to protect either on them, and was always grateful for the comfort and support she provided Cordelia.

Phineas was seventeen when he realised he liked boys, having no interest in dating women. His parents had been openly homophobic, and so he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. If he ignored them, they'd go away. At least, that's what he told himself.

There was one boy, Phineas found, that despite how hard he tried, he could never forget. Lee Chang. His closest friend and confidant -- despite Phin not actually telling the other he liked men. His heart ached for the other, but he ignored it. Desperately pushing down the feelings as best as he could, which became easier when the other moved away. Or at least, so he thought. With every letter he wrote to Lee, the feelings crept to the surface and so, Phineas pulled away, not showing up when the two had planned to meet.

His parents seemed to have an idea that he wasn't straight, and pushed him towards dating females, and not wanting to oppose them - being too scared too, Phin went along with it.

He followed in their footsteps, going to law school. However, he pursued family law as a speciality, rather than corporate law. Much to his parent's disgust. It was the one thing he allowed himself.

After a drunken one night stand with a man, Phineas freaked. Terrified his parents would find out, he began dating Sammy. Although the two got on well, and Phineas did grow to love her, he wasn't in love with her, and while part of him knew he never would be, that he was incapable of actually developing romantic feelings for the other, he still tried.

Phineas never expected Sammy to fall pregnant, despite his parent's pushing him to start a family of his own. He was terrified, knew he should tell Sammy the truth, but instead, after an overwhelming pressure from his parents, he ended up proposing instead.

They married quickly, hiding the fact she'd got pregnant out of wedlock, something his parents frowned upon. They grew to be a family, the three of them, despite the fact Phineas was still under his parent's thumb.

It was Ophelia and Cordelia that had often told him he need to leave, that he deserved to be free, but Phineas didn't know how to walk away from his parents, didn't know how to be honest with himself.

It was a few weeks ago when his sister was in an accident that took her life. It was sudden, unexpected and threw Phineas into despair. His sister was gone, and he'd failed to protect her, despite the promise he'd made to her. He felt numb, lost and when his parents blamed his sister for her own tragic passing, he snapped.

This time, when Fi mentioned leaving, he didn't reject the idea. Instead, he went to Sammy, told her of his plans and the two of them packed their things alongside their five year old, and moved to Huntsville.

He's just arrived in the town, still grieving the loss of his sister, still denying who he really is.

#about; phineas prescott.#sero.intro #homophobia tw #abuse tw #car accident tw #death tw

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funkymbtifiction · 2 years

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Hello! Thanks for answering my previous question, and if I'm being honest, I was first surprised that you typed Alcott as ISTJ 1w2 since Jo, who was supposedly (or partially) based on her, is an ENFP 8w7. Although instantly I began to reflect and remembered that the March (In a medium that does not come to mind now) were like an 'idealized' version of the Alcott sisters' childhood.

Now, do you know anything about his family to typify any of them too? (In case not, I had found a link to Anna's diary and I don't know if you read it already. If not, I'll try to find it, if you want.)

I read a book about Lousia and her family, along with her strange upbringing and her INFP father, a year or so ago. I don't recall enough about her siblings to guess at their types (I assume them similar to the SFJ Marches) but her dad stood out to me strongly as a rather unhealthy version of an INFP. He was extremely moralistic in a Fi-dom way, idealistic and experimental in his educational process, and unable to provide for them financially because of low Te concerns (he could never put aside his feelings even when it would have benefited him; "Shortly before his marriage, for example, his future father-in-law Colonel Joseph May helped him find a job teaching at a school in Boston run by the Society of Free Enquirers for a lucrative $1,000 to $1,200 annual salary. He refused it because he did not agree with their beliefs, writing, "I shall have nothing to do with them."[147]; he also imposed veganism on his family in a time it wasn't practical, which lead to a lot of their failing health problems). He ran up debts wherever he went and moved them out in the middle of the night because he couldn't afford to pay their rent. They borrowed and begged for money from friends and relatives to buy food and afford heat in the winter. INFPs can be so idealistic, and so moralistic about what they feel, that they aren't always practical about how the world works or how to provide for their families.

Louisa was more responsible, reliable, and aware of how reality worked, even if she resented it. She was also a sp-dom, who longed for money so she could have a more comfortable, less stressful and chaotic life. She wanted to buck authority, but I feel like Jo was her inner self -- the wild, free, unmarried woman she wished she could be, but was incapable of being in real life. She focused much more on doing her duty by her family, on tending to people's needs in the war, etc. She was not particularly inventive in her novel, and did draw enormous chunks of what she wrote from things she had actually lived through (strong Si -- unlike someone like Dickens, who made up characters, stories, and things, out of his own head with only brief allusions to his personal experiences -- strong Ne). I never doubted her 1-ness. In unabridged versions of Little Women, she stops talking about the story to moralize at her readers and teach them how to be kinder, hold their tempers better, and behave, which my 1 mother loves but that makes the book "too preachy" for a lot of people. ;)

#question #louisa may alcott #mbti

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ultranos · 3 years

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Ursa was a good mom. She did her best to curtail Azula cruelty but there's a reason Ozai cast aside Zuko and decided to mold Azula in his image and that's because she was lacking some basic traits that Zuko had like empathy and kindness. It's tragic but Azula was too far gone and it was best to focus efforts on the child that actually had hope to grow up to be a functioning human being. She was born a monster and people like her should not be allowed to participate in normal human society.

“Psychopathic killers,” Dr. Robert D. Hare writes in his 1993 best seller Without Conscience: The Disturbing World of the Psychopaths among Us—published two years after the film adaptation of Silence of the Lambs, starring Anthony Hopkins as Hannibal Lecter, swept the Academy Awards— “are not mad, according to accepted legal and psychiatric standards. Their acts result not from a deranged mind but from a cold, calculating rationality combined with a chilling inability to treat others as thinking, feeling human beings.” Psychopaths, according to Hare, are incapable of experiencing even the faintest tremors of love or empathy, and can never be taught to feel any differently. If you encounter a psychopath, Hare says, you can do only one thing: flee. “If we can’t spot them,” he writes, “we are doomed to be their victims.”

In addition to solidifying the public’s understanding of psychopaths, Hare invented the most widely used tool for diagnosing them: the Psychopathy Checklist, first published in 1980, and known as the PCL-R since its only revision, in 2003. The checklist comprises twenty questions whose answers trained examiners rate on a scale of zero to two, typically after talking with the patient for about two hours. In the context of a prison diagnosis, some scored criteria—like “shallow affect” and “lack of empathy”—may be bolstered by an examiner’s assessment of state-provided information such as a trial transcript or police record, while others—like “juvenile delinquency” and “revocation of conditional release”—are based entirely on a patient’s past interactions with law enforcement. Because of its frequent use in criminal sentencing, the PCL-R necessarily conflates the concepts of “criminal” and “psychopathic”: a PCL-R score of thirty out of forty makes you a psychopath, and at least five of the list’s items can be scored solely on a subject’s history of trouble with the law. Today, since black Americans are incarcerated at five times the rate of white Americans, a black American is also five times likelier to have a ten-point head start on the psychopathy checklist.

Despite this, the PCL-R—which Hare sells on his website for $460, in a bundle that includes an interview guide, a rating booklet, and a set of QuikScore™ forms (with webinar training available for an additional $499)—is regarded by laypeople and legal insiders alike not as a highly subjective questionnaire but as an infallible means of separating good from bad. Today, the diagnosis of “psychopath” is meted out as freely in the courtroom as it is during prime time, and its effect is always the same: instant dehumanization.

When it comes to assigning blame, no designation could be more comforting. The psychopath is born bad. Nothing can fix him. Society cannot be at fault, and there is no point in wondering whether timely treatment could have averted the inevitable. He does what he wants to do. He knows it is wrong. He can control himself; he simply chooses not to. The idea that the psychopath is somehow more deserving of blame because he was born bad—that his lack of empathy serves as proof of his evil, despite a diagnosis that says he cannot feel it, no matter how he tries—is a paradox few have attempted to address.

--Sarah Marshall, “The End of Evil” (warning for the link: it’s an essay involving one of the most notorious serial killers in the USA, and so includes descriptions of his crimes, all of which involve young women and girls)

I quote this essay because it’s about Ted Bundy, the man whose picture you’d find in the dictionary under “psychopath”. A real-life monster, in every sense of the word...except Marshall makes us see a human man. Not to absolve him, not to diminish the horror of his crimes or lessen the suffering of his victims. But to remind us that these are the actions of a human being, not an unstoppable force we have to accept that we cannot change.

That the word “psychopath” and phrase “born bad” are excuses society gives itself to wash its hands of responsibility. That it is perfectly fine to treat these people as subhuman, because they are not people. That it is perfectly fine to not try to intervene, because it is a pointless endeavor, because you would have more luck teaching a fish to ride a bicycle.

That it is perfectly fine for society to abandon and reject a child who does not know differently...because society has refused to help them.

#dehumanization #i hate the word 'psychopath' and this is why #also have an extra helping of racism and exploitation associated with the term #Anonymous #nos answers things

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lettheladylead · 3 years

Text

Title: Witness

Summary: Scrooge is on trial and he needs a character witness, but he's not sure how helpful she'll be. Ship: Scrooge/Goldie Word count: ~3080 Notes: I needed to write something after seeing the summary for the upcoming episode, The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29510085

“This trial is a sham!” Scrooge shouted, slamming his shackled fists onto the desk in front of him. “You havenae allowed me a proper lawyer or allowed anyone to testify on my behalf!”

The giant mystical judge scoffed and held the gavel in his hand, ready to use it if the duck continued yelling. Holding him in contempt of court would be an easy way to end this trial early, but he wanted to make sure Mr. McDuck paid properly for his crimes.

The prosecutor rolled his eyes and walked in front of the desk. “And whom would you have testify for you? In the High Mystical Court of Good Versus Evil, family members aren’t allowed.”

Scrooge gaped. “Not even as a character witness? I spend all my time with my family!”

The smug, suited creature shrugged at him with a smile. “Too bad, then. Looks like we’ll just have to continue listing how you’ve corrupted these fine men and women and forced them into lives of villainhood.”

The old duck seethed, grinding his teeth and considering his options. If he let the trial continue this way, his poor family up in the spectator’s seats was about to watch him get destroyed and they had yet to even discuss punishment, but Scrooge was sure it would be worse than anything he could get on Earth.

As he glanced up at his family - Donald, Della, and the boys in particular - he wondered if Webby or Twenty-Two would’ve been allowed to defend him had they been zapped here along with the rest of them. They just happened to be in the kitchen at the time of abduction and were probably losing their minds with worry. Hopefully one of the boys was able to send some sort of textual message to let them know what was going on.

At that thought, Scrooge’s eyes lingered on Louie and his phone, and a thought suddenly came to mind. It was something he wasn’t sure about...perhaps it’d be a bad idea...but he had no other options.

“I know someone!” he shouted. “I have a character witness who’s not in my family!”

The judge and prosecutor stared down with their many, many eyes - giving Scrooge an expression he could only describe as terrifying and suspicious.

“You still want to try this?” the prosecutor asked. “Alright, fine. Who is it?”

“Goldie O’Gilt.” Scrooge ignored the reactions from his family - particularly Della and Donald’s resounding ‘oh, please no’ - and hoped this would be a good choice.

The prosecutor looked up at the judge, who nodded his head and slammed his gavel down three times before snapping his fingers. “Alright.”

A few seconds passed without anything happening or anyone saying a word. Scrooge glanced from side to side. “Should you...call a recess so I can contact her?”

“That would be a waste of time,” the prosecutor said as there was suddenly a poof of purple smoke at the witness stand.

Everyone stared as the smoke dissipated to reveal one Goldie O’Gilt - currently wearing a bathrobe and her hair was down and wet and as soon as she opened her eyes she was immediately very unhappy.

“Oh, what the hell is this?” Goldie shouted, choosing to stay seated but glaring around the room. “What am I on trial for this time?”

Scrooge felt himself getting sweaty. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

“Nothing, Miss O’Gilt,” the judge said as he leaned down to look at her. “Mr. Scrooge McDuck is on trial for crimes of harassment, manipulation, and corruption against multiple innocent victims.”

Goldie blinked up at him and then turned her head to look at Scrooge.

He gave her a toothy grin and a small, nervous wave.

“So what does that have to do with me?” Goldie asked as she grabbed her hair and wrung it out onto the floor.

The prosecutor stared at the puddle of water and then glared up at their new witness. “You’ve been called as a character witness for Mr. McDuck. Now do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Sure.”

Scrooge dropped his head to the desk while the prosecutor and judge glanced at one another.

The bailiff walked over with a large brown book that had a giant lock around the side and was shaking a bit and making snarling sounds. Goldie raised an eyebrow as he held it towards her.

“Put your hand on this.”

Goldie grimaced. “Must I?”

“If you don’t want to testify, we can’t force you,” the prosecutor said with a pretentious glance up and down her body. “Clearly you were in the middle of something, after all.”

Goldie glared at him and in that moment decided she hated him more than she enjoyed inconveniencing Scrooge. She slapped her hand down on top of the book. “I swear to tell the truth.”

The bailiff mumbled something under his breath and then the book lit up and shone a bright light onto Goldie for a few seconds before fading away. He walked away as Goldie rubbed at her eyes.

“What was that?”

“That was a Light of Honestly,” the prosecutor said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Which means that so long as you’re at the witness stand, you’re physically incapable of lying or excluding relevant information from your statements.”

“What?!” both Goldie and Scrooge shouted at the same time. They immediately locked eyes with one another and could feel their shared nervousness almost psychically.

“Since when do you use something like that?”

“It was specifically requested and provided by one of the accusers in this case. Now, could you state your name and occupation to the court, please?”

Goldie’s left eye twitched as she squeezed the sleeves of her robes into her hands. “Goldie Kathleen O’Gilt. I…” She paused as if considering her words - or, Scrooge suspected, trying to find a way to word her lie so that it was still true. “...I own and operate a hotel.”

Scrooge’s eyes widened. She did what? He attempted to make eye contact with her so he could let her know how confusing what she just said was to him, but she was purposefully avoiding his stare.

“And how do you know Scrooge McDuck, Miss O’Gilt?”

Goldie frowned and glanced up at Scrooge before glaring at the lawyer. “He’s my…” She seemed to struggle with the words again. “...boy...friend?”

A collective groan could be heard from the duck boys in the peanut gallery while Scrooge couldn’t help the small smile that came to his face.

“Are you asking?” the judge asked sternly, leaning towards her again.

She grunted and angrily waved her hands around. “We’ve never really talked about it, alright? He’s the love of my life and we’ve been seeing each other on and off since 1897. How’s that for you?”

Scrooge was surprised not to hear another groan, and looked back to see the boys and Della looking quite touched by Goldie’s confession. They weren’t the only ones - even after their little Florida adventure, he never expected to hear those words come out of her mouth. Now he had ten times as much reason not to die right then and there.

“That’s descriptive enough, I suppose,” the prosecutor responded, clearly not recognizing or not caring about the emotional turmoil Goldie was going through after blurting that out so carelessly. “In the one hundred and twenty years you’ve known Scrooge McDuck, have you found him to be cruel?”

Scrooge stared at her pleadingly, despite knowing she physically couldn’t lie he still hoped she’d find a way to make him sound good.

Goldie brushed her fingers through her damp hair. “On occasion. But usually I was cruel to him first.”

“Usually, but not always?” the prosecutor asked, taking a look at the jury who were watching with gradually increasing interest. “So he has been cruel without provocation.”

“The first night we met involved me drugging his coffee and then him kidnapping me,” Goldie said nonchalantly, clearly starting to realize there was no fighting the Light of Honesty. “At the time I thought he was cruel, but looking back on it, I don’t mind that it happened.”

Scrooge closed his eyes and wondered what his family was thinking at that moment. He was thinking about all the different painful, mystical punishments he was going to face after Goldie destroyed his already limited chances of surviving this trial.

“Interesting. And over the years, have you witnessed Scrooge McDuck inflicting such cruelties on anyone else?”

Goldie rolled her eyes. “No. I like to think our relationship is special,” she added with a wink.

The prosecutor scoffed, annoyed by her response. “Can I assume this means your time spent with Scrooge McDuck is usually just the two of you, making you less than an expert on how he treats people he’s not having sex with?”

“Objection!” Scrooge yelled, standing up. “Curse me kilts, there are kids here!”

The judge shrugged. “He’s got a point.”

“Fine,” the prosecutor responded, putting up his hands in mock surrender. “But my question still stands.”

Goldie huffed. “Unfortunately for me, I have spent plenty of time with Scrooge’s other associates. I can’t confirm whether or not I’ve seen him around your particular accusers, but I’ve interacted with most of his enemies at one point or another.”

“...good to know,” the prosecutor said and brushed invisible dust off of his lapel. “Have you ever known Scrooge McDuck to harass others?”

“Only when they owe him money.”

“Oh? And does that happen often?”

Goldie let out a short laugh. “No one would be dumb enough to borrow from Scrooge! He adds interest even when you borrow five bucks for lunch.”

Scrooge pouted and ignored the temptation to argue that he had every right to do so.

“Have you known Scrooge McDuck to be manipulative?”

There was a pause at that question, one that filled the space between Scrooge and Goldie with a modicum of tension. “Yes.”

“...can you elaborate on that?”

Goldie sighed. “Well, he’s the richest duck in the world, a businessman, and an adventurer. You can’t be successful in any of those categories without being at least somewhat manipulative. Though he’s certainly not the most manipulative man I’ve dealt with, he’s not exactly a saint.”

Scrooge groaned and slammed his head against the desk multiple times in a row.

The blonde pouted angrily and tried to think of a way to save face. “That being said...if the accusers in question aren’t ex-business partners or fellow adventurers, I question the relevance of anything I’ve said.”

The jury seemed to find that statement interesting and the prosecutor glared angrily at Goldie for causing a stir. Scrooge lifted his head and smiled at her - now he was sure she was fighting to help him.

“I think we can allow the jury to decide the relevance of this information for themselves,” the prosecutor said with a snarl. “We don’t need any unfair extrapolation from our witnesses, Miss O’Gilt. Stick to the facts.”

Goldie let out a short, low hum and grabbed her hair to wring it out once again, getting water all over the attorney’s shoes. He gasped and stepped away from her.

“Oops!” Goldie put a hand to her beak, but offered no apology. No one needed to think twice to realize it was because she was incapable of doing so at that moment.

“Corruption is the biggest charge,” the prosecutor said matter-of-factly. “The accusers all claim that their villainy is a direct result of damages done to them, their property, or their livelihoods by Scrooge McDuck. Have you known Scrooge McDuck to be a corrupting person?”

Scrooge wondered about that charge against him in particular. He couldn’t deny that a lot of his enemies were a direct result of something he did - but it wasn’t purposeful nor was he the only person capable of causing these problems for them. If Scrooge hadn’t indirectly negatively impacted their lives, some other billionaire would’ve done it instead. It’s not like he was the only businessman-adventurer in the world.

“...yes.”

Scrooge sucked in a breath. He didn’t know what Goldie was going to say, but it couldn’t be good.

“Could you elaborate on that?”

“Not in any way that’s appropriate for the audience,” she answered with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want to corrupt the kids, too, after all.”

Scrooge exhaled loudly and blushed. Alright.

The prosecutor slapped a hand against his forehead. “Not that kind of corruption!” he shouted, pointing a finger into her face and getting much too close for anyone’s comfort. “Have you witnessed Scrooge McDuck influence the life of an innocent person in a way that led to them falling down a path of villainy?”

The jury reacted more than expected to the prosecutor’s anger, whispering among themselves briefly. Scrooge and the prosecutor both looked over at the Jury Box, but Goldie kept her eyes forward.

“...not purposefully, but yes.”

The prosecutor smiled. “Ahh, well naturally, if it wasn’t on purpose, then it doesn’t matter! Is that what you’re saying?”

Goldie’s left eye twitched again. “You asked me to state facts. I stated a fact. Do you have any other dumb questions?”

He glared at her and glanced up at the judge, who was leaning on his hand and watching their discussion closely. “I want to summarize what you’ve told us so far, Miss O’Gilt.”

“According to you, Scrooge McDuck may not be prone to harassment, but he is often cruel, fairly manipulative, and has been known to corrupt innocent people to villainy. Is that all correct?”

She frowned and tapped her fingers against her leg. “That’s all accurate to what I’ve said here, yes.”

The prosecutor turned back to look at Scrooge, whose expression could only be described as defeated. “Some character witness you’ve found yourself, Mr. McDuck.”

“Stick to the witness, Prosecutor,” the judge said quickly, holding up his gavel.

“Yes, Your Honor,” the prosecutor responded, moving back towards Goldie again. “Now, Miss O’Gilt, based on what you’ve told us here, Scrooge McDuck is not a nice man nor is he a noble man. Yet you referred to him as the, quote, love of your life, unquote. This leads me to believe that you, yourself, may not be a nice or noble person, either.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s your point?”

“If anyone has any doubts as to whether or not Scrooge McDuck is a cruel, manipulative person capable of horrible deeds, we need look no further than the fact that his girlfriend here is similarly cruel, manipulative, and as many of us here are already aware - a criminal.”

There were gasps among the crowd and the jury - the prosecutor turned his head towards them as he continued. “Yes, everyone, Miss O’Gilt here is actually quite familiar with the inside of this courtroom. She’s been on trial dozens of times over the past one hundred years for theft of mystical artifacts from every dimension and realm you can think of.”

Scrooge closed his eyes again and started counting. Perhaps if he did this long enough, he’d wake up from this nightmare he found himself trapped in.

Goldie, on the other hand, was unperturbed. “Been on trial, but never been convicted. Who’s the one bringing up irrelevant information now?”

“I simply thought it was important for our jury to be aware of the witness’ extracurricular activities.”

“The activities you have no evidence of,” Goldie said sternly. She glanced up at the judge. “I believe your prosecutor is harassing me when all I’ve done is comply with every question I’ve been asked both here and at previous trials.”

The judge considered this for a moment and looked down at the prosecutor. “She has a point. Was she convicted of any of the crimes you’re accusing her of?”

The prosecutor frowned. “No, but-”

“But nothing,” the judge said as he slammed down his gavel again. “You will move on from this statement of irrelevant accusations or I will have you replaced with another attorney.”

“...yes, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said with a bow, glaring at Goldie.

She smiled back at him, then glanced at Scrooge and blew him a kiss.

======

After court was adjourned and Scrooge’s handcuffs were finally removed after all those hours of magical metal chafing against his feathers, he spent an enjoyable few minutes being congratulated by his family before Goldie stepped out of the courtroom and stared at them.

“Um...Uncle Scrooge?” Louie said, tugging at his uncle’s sleeve.

“Yes, lad?”

“I think Aunt Goldie wants to talk to you.”

Scrooge considered taking a moment to discuss that nickname with his nephew, but Goldie’s presence distracted him enough that he simply turned around and walked towards her.

“You really saved me in there, O’Gilt,” Scrooge said softly as he reached down and grabbed one of her hands.

Goldie shrugged and squeezed his hand back. “Well it wasn’t like I could let them throw you in interdimensional prison. They don’t have conjugal visits, you know.”

He blushed and pulled his hand away. “Must you always be so inappropriate?!”

“Not always,” Goldie said as she took a step closer to him. “Just with you.”

Scrooge felt his heart racing and couldn’t help the nervous smile that came back to his face. “...I would’ve thought you’d run out of here as fast as possible after what you said.”

She played with her hair for a bit, roughly running her fingers through the knots that had formed since the judge had summoned her from her bathroom before she’d had a chance to brush. “It’s not like I said anything you didn’t already know.”

He smiled brighter and leaned forward to press a quick kiss against her beak; a disgusted groan sounded from behind him that he was pretty sure was Louie’s. “Is the judge sendin’ you back home?”

“After I’m done with you, yes.”

Scrooge grabbed her hands again. “How about you come to the mansion instead, dear?”

Goldie breathed out a laugh. “As much as I appreciate the offer, I’m not wearing anything under this robe and I’d kind of like to do something with my hair before it knots into a nest.”

“I’ve got some of your clothes,” Scrooge said quickly. “And showers. Towels. Hair brushes. Anythin’ you need.”

She raised an eyebrow and glanced back at Scrooge’s family who were all pretending not to pay attention to them. “Well...I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

#ducktales #scroldie #goldie o'gilt #scrooge mcduck #glittering goldie #fic #fics #im glad i chose to write a fic instead of drawing something cuz like...wtf would the judge and attorney look like? idk #im not creative like that #anyway my entire knowledge of court trials comes from the ace attorney game series which as we know is Extremely Accurate

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

I Got The Blues. Yan Bruno x Reader [COMM]

warnings: implied manipulation, isolation, some paranoia. word count: 5k.

This isn’t how you were expecting your evening to go.

Flashing by you in a dreamlike world of blurred colors, the city of Naples at night is a picturesque sight to behold. Gone is the sun that kindly lavished the bustling streets in shades of amber and marigold, moonlight and twinkling stars taking its place. How a city can have a clear enough sky to spot stars is a miracle beyond your own knowledge, though the lights of streetlamps and buildings do dull it some; it’s not enough to diminish the greater beauty.

Butterflies dance around in your stomach, threatening to send you careening in your leather seat. Your exposed skin gratefully takes in the cool of the air conditioning that you’ve found yourself fiddling with, in hopes of quelling your inner anxiety. Every now and again, you work up the courage to look over at your date for the night. When knowing, cobalt eyes flicker to meet your gaze, all of the valiance it took to look his way melts like ice. Your muscles go taut, fingers curling into a fist atop your bare thighs, rose colored lips set into an unsteady smile to dissipate the uneasy air of your own making.

You haven’t even made it to the restaurant, and you’re already on the verge of boiling over with excitement.

Bruno Bucciarati is nothing if not a stunningly handsome man, eyes smoldering and raven hair perfectly framing his sharp face. There are plenty of mysteries in this world, now you’re able to add one of your own design. Why is it that Bruno had asked you of all people, on a fanciful date? What he had seen in you up until this point to have extended this invitation to you is up for debate. It’s not that you think poorly of yourself -- far from it -- but that Bruno’s beauty is so ethereal, that it’s hard to fathom his interest in you. Today isn’t the first time he’s expressed it, and far from the last, but you mistook it for friendliness.

“I promise I won’t bite, amore,” Bruno’s rich, velvety voice invades your ears, senses incapable of processing anything other than his presence beside you. “There’s no need to be so on edge.”

Your heartbeat increases tenfold at his good-natured teasing, a nervous laugh leaving your lips. Having conversation fill the air provides you with some much needed reprieve, a playful response of your own bubbling to the surface. “You say you won’t, but I get the feeling you may go back on your word.”

He returns your laughter with equal fervor, the skin underneath his eyes crinkling in delight. “I have to admit, it’s a tempting proposition. But I’ll save that for another time, should you let me.”

There’s no getting ahead of his game, he’s too suave and adept. You look out the window to hide how your cheeks flush, but from the pleased hum he lets out, you’re certain he knows anyways. The banter is an enjoyable aspect of your time with Bruno, though there’s an underlying factor of honesty to his words. All the compliments bestowed upon you come from a genuine place. Your mind wanders to the first time you had encountered him, a fated meeting that you won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

You had been jet lagged, searching frantically for a place to meet up that your native friend suggested. Directions went into your head without making proper sense, and before you knew it, you were lost. Your concerns of meeting up with your friend were soon replaced by wondering if you’d ever pinpoint where you were, the foreign area making it increasingly difficult to do so. It’s in this pitiful stupor that a well spoken man in a fine pressed suit appeared before you, asking if something was the matter.

He hadn’t looked down upon you for the admittedly embarrassing plight, instead, he said he knew the area and wouldn’t mind taking you there as it was on his way. From that point onwards, you couldn’t thank him enough, praises stumbling from your tongue. He introduced himself as Bruno Bucciarati, and the time you spent with him was enough to forget your earlier problems. The long walk to where your friend awaited was filled with pleasant conversation and humor, with some light flirting that you enjoyed a little too much. From afar he looked serious, but had a coquettish nature that drew you in like a moth to a flame.

While it would’ve normally sounded terrifying to follow a stranger to a destination in a land you weren’t familiar with, Bruno put your heart at ease. He kept an appropriate distance and observed the theoretical line in the sand, never crossing it and using adequate charm to steady your frayed nerves. Upon hearing that you were a fresh arrival to Naples, he gave a brief overview of some culture tidbits that you might find useful during your stay. What was going to be an awful afternoon turned into a memorable outing, full of adventure and discovery. To say that you were grateful would be an understatement.

Upon reaching your destination, all your anxiety from before was a thing of the past. Bruno was glad to see you off, refusing any monetary payments you tried to offer as thanks for his altruism. Instead, he asked if he could see you again at some point, to which you readily agreed. Thus began your pleasant friendship, and led to where you are now. On an excursion to a restaurant that, when you looked it up, seemed to frequent politicians and celebrities. How he managed to score a reservation at such a fine place is beyond you, but you’ll make the best of it.

Fidgeting with your purse, you consider reapplying a touch of blush to your cheeks. Your outfit choice for tonight, a simple yet form fitting black dress that ends above your knees, was the best your closet could produce for such an event. Bruno looked the part of someone who would fit into high society, and you hope the same can be said for you. From how he complimented you earlier, it induced enough confidence to make it this far.

The chauffeur pulls in front of the grandiose restaurant, and you watch as men and women dressed in designer clothing worth more than months of your paycheck climb out of sports cars. This is a large jump from the picnics and gelato outings Bruno had taken you out on before. Up until today, where romantic intentions could clearly be sighted, you only thought your relationship with him was friendly. The bouquet of deep, crimson roses he presented to you when you answered the door earlier made sure there were no confusing his intentions.

He gets out before you, coming over to your side and opening the door. Accepting the hand that he extends out, the two of you stay close together while walking towards the front of the restaurant. Up until now, it felt like another world entirely, until you heard the familiar sound of waves crashing against the shore. The inside is as luxurious as you could imagine, fine glass chandeliers hanging overhead and classical music being played live. Candlelight dots the tables, the glow setting a romantic atmosphere.

Bruno speaks a few words to the hostess while you gape at the surroundings. It’s hard to believe that just this morning, you had been eating a ham sandwich to save money for bills. Now you stand in one of the grandest spots in Italy, surrounded by socialites. No one pays you any heed, much to your internal relief, instead showing the utmost respect to Bruno. He turns back to you, smiling, and the two of you are led to a private room overlooking the ocean.

“If I’m being honest, I feel a bit out of my element here.” A nervous laugh leaves your lips as you take your seat, smoothing out the bottom half of your dress. The fresh water on the table is a welcome excuse to have something in your hands, and you take the opportunity to steady yourself. Gingerly picking up the glass by the rim, feeling the coolness against your fingertips as you do so.

“You look the part,” Bruno responds in kind, steepling his fingers together and setting his head atop them. “I apologize if the atmosphere feels stifling, signorina. It isn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

Shaking your head, you place the cup down after a few sips. “Not at all. It’s beautiful, the view especially. I know I said it earlier, but… thank you for inviting me.”

“It’s my pleasure. I’ve been wanting to take you out for an evening for some time now, but I’ve been preoccupied up until this point.”

This catches your attention, an eyebrow raising in interest. Bruno has rarely spoken of his occupation, claiming the details would be a bore, but that must be what he’s referring to here. It was one of the few aspects of him that he didn’t delve into, and not wanting to seem invasive, you left it as is. Now seems like a prime opportunity to learn more about it, curiosity getting the better of you. You choose your words with care before proceeding.

“Is it a… busy season in your line of work?” You inquire with interest, hoping it doesn’t seem like you’re prying. The question is innocent enough, Bruno’s sought to learn more about your job, to which you readily answered him. His tone of voice and mannerisms, whether it be on purpose or not, always seems to command respect. It’s an aspect of him you and many others in his presence picked up on, always straightening their back in his presence and properly addressing him. Is he a politician or something…?

“You could say that.”

The opportunity is fleeting, a waiter coming over and paying great reverence to your dinner partner for the night. It’s a shame you won’t be able to push the topic further, having been interrupted and the conversation steering elsewhere. Bruno had asked beforehand if he could order in your stead. Seeing as he’s more familiar with the menu and charms of Nepotalian cuisine, you accepted, taking the opportunity to learn more about the food here. Some of the words he uses when placing an order for your antipasti you recognize, whereas others must be a dialect exclusive to this city. After the waiter hurriedly scribbles down and scurries off, Bruno’s attention is returned to you.

“So tell me, how are things with you? It’s been, what, a week or so since we last met in person?”

You nod your head to confirm, nose scrunching while thinking back on your past experiences. Truth be told, it hasn’t been the best past couple of days. The other tenants in the apartments beside you have been obnoxiously loud at unholy hours into the morning, and no matter how politely you asked them to tone it down, it made no difference. Your landlord, to make matters worse, had been on about some special fee that you need to meet by the end of the month. When looking back on your agreement, you saw nothing of the sort. You wonder if he’s trying to take advantage of the fact you’re not a native Italian speaker, but finding a new place to live on such short notice would be a nightmare. This, and you’ve been having a difficult time aligning your schedules with your friends.

“It hasn’t been the easiest,” you confess with a sheepish smile, folding the napkin from the table onto your lap. That’s what you’ve seen in movies, so it seems like the right thing to do in this proper setting. “I actually wanted to talk to you about it, but it might not be the most proper dinner topic.”

Bruno raises an eyebrow at this, before prompting you to continue. “Oh? I’d love to be of assistance to you.”

The order comes out as you explain your sticky predicament. What appears to be octopus cooked alongside tomatoes and chili peppers, mixed into a leafy green salad with a zesty lemon dressing. The flavor bursts onto your tongue, spices complementing one another perfectly as you wrap up your woeful tale of adulthood. Bruno’s attention remains solely on you throughout, looking increasingly perplexed as you recount the problems, jaw tightening with agitation on your behalf.

“It might be in your best interest to end the lease then,” Bruno considers aloud with a sorrowful expression, shaking his head in dismay for your misfortunes. “The fee for doing so would still be less than having to pay that ridiculous sum every month.”

It’s an option you considered with great displeasure. Shelling out all that money to end your lease early is a nightmare to think about, hundreds gone in the span of a second over an arbitrary bill, tacked on at the last second. The legality of it is up in the air, but your knowledge of the law surrounding tenants in Italy is… lacking, to say the least. Bruno’s affirmation of your idea serves to sour your mood, and you almost regret bringing up this grim subject on what’s meant to be a date night. Even though you planned to seek his guidance on it eventually, now may not have been the best time to do so.

Placing a forkful of steamed octopus into your mouth, you lament over the issue further. “I guess I should start looking for a new place. Everything else within range of my job is ridiculously expensive, though, so it looks like I’ll be walking a lot in the future.”

The lighthearted joke does little to lift your downtrodden spirits, your gaze now facing downwards. How pathetic Bruno must think you are, incapable of properly navigating your finances despite being an adult. It’s embarrassing to think about, your cheeks burning in indignation. He never once chastises you, instead extending his hand over the table, resting it gingerly atop your own. A gentle action like this is enough to soothe your troubled mind, the coarse pad of his thumb rubbing reassuring circles into your skin.

“To think you’ve been through so much in this short amount of time… I’m sorry to hear about all of this,” Bruno’s words are soothing to your weary soul, maturity present in his visage. You feel better about talking to him already, sensing he has a great deal of life experience. “I’ve made up my mind. [First], why not live with me?”

The sudden proposition sends your mind in a whirlwind, blinking rapidly while trying to gather your bearings. You’ve known Bruno for the time period of about three months, and while he’s been nothing but courteous towards you, there’s still a lot of secrecy surrounding him. You’d be pressed to say he isn’t charming, and that you don’t hold some form of affection toward him, but it feels so sudden.

Sensing your apprehension, Bruno continues to explain in an attempt to smoothen other any concerns. “By all means, take time to think about the idea.”

“I-It means a lot that you’d even extend the offer to me,” you stumble over your words truthfully, gulping to get a hold of yourself. “I’d feel awful to impose on you, especially on such short notice. You’ve been so considerate of me already…”

“You could never impose. I hoped I’d made my feelings for you clear, [First]. Anything you need, I want to provide it. Please, allow me to do so.”

He’s earnest, willing to overcome your apprehensions with thoughtfully crafted words and sentiments. Vacillating between two halves of yourself, you consider the options set before you. The romantic atmosphere from the restaurant is long forgotten, as you enter a reverie of contemplation. There isn’t a better option that you can think of, none of your friends living close enough or even open to the idea of a roommate. The time of splitting rent would be productive as well, letting you bolster your already deplenishing savings. Bruno has never given you reason to be alarmed, you trust the man before you.

“In that case, I’ll continue thinking about it.” You answer after a moment’s deliberation, Bruno offering a nod of the head in acceptance. He retracts his hand from your own, and you can’t help but miss the warmth and reassurance it brought. Throughout your stay in Italy, you’ve felt like a stumbling mess at times. Sure, you’re capable enough, but wading through multiple decisions while balancing your job has been a lot to deal with. Bruno, on the other hand, feels so well put together. There’s never a moment in your interactions where he falters in his decisions, always full or resolve to see things through. He feels like a pillar of support in your life, a foundation that you cling to without even noticing it. This level of reliability is what you desperately need right now.

The air is silent for a moment, aside from the clattering of silverware against plates and muted chitchat from the other patrons. You look down to your lap, feeling the full weight of his stare set upon you. It feels like the evening has been getting away, running off in a direction you didn’t mean for it to go. After all the work he’s put into treating you to a nice night out, it feels impolite to ruin the mood any further. Putting on your best, brightest smile, you swiftly change the subject.

“I never realized seafood could taste so good,” you praise the meal before you, that’s been reduced to a shadow of its former self. Only a few crumbs remain in the bowl, a nice appetizer before the food to come. “A lot of the seafood I’ve had is either chewy, or just tastes strange. Whatever you picked out is amazing.”

“A lot of it depends on the quality of the product itself. I grew up in a coastal town, so I know how to spot the difference. For octopus, the best method is the aroma. The same can be said for most seafood…”

The remainder of the evening is spent in the throes of conversation ranging from lighthearted topics, to discussions about your plans for the future. Bruno revealed a bit more information about himself, but still not enough to sate your deeply rooted curiosity. His offer from before stays present in the back of your mind, but you do everything within your power to not think dwell on it. After having dessert from his behest, the two of you make your way to the entrance once more. You can’t fathom the bill after a dinner like that, but Bruno refutes any attempts to split it, following up his earlier offer of paying for it in full.

“Thank you for everything,” you express your gratitude while getting up from the chair, glancing out the window a final time. When you look back to Bruno, his attention is set solely on your presence, eyes softening considerably. It makes your heart flutter, how he looks at you. “I enjoyed my time with you.”

“And as for your offer…”

There hasn’t been a great deal of time to think about it, but your chest feels light, like an invisible weight had been lifted. The man before you is an anchor that you never knew you needed, fastening you down in the wake of travesties. He’s well put together, offering you every courtesy known and making for delightful company. Whether what you feel is the beginning of love, or a platonic attachment, you’re uncertain. To discover things for yourself, and get a better bearing on your life, you’re ready to make a leap of your own. It reminds you of the time before moving here, this decision is minuscule in comparison to that… right? You’re not making a deal with the devil or anything.

“I think… I think I’m going to accept.”

- - -

Anytime moving is involved, it’s a stressful endeavor. You know this firsthand, having come to Italy with a few things of luggage and starting off a new life with it. Much to your surprise, everything went far smoother than you imagined. Unlike your arrival, you had help in moving your boxes of belongings to Bruno’s villa, leaving you with little to do aside offering plenty of thanks. It felt like the start of an exciting new adventure, turning over a new leaf after a string of misfortunes. Leaving behind your old apartment building felt strange, but oddly right. Working through the manner of cutting your lease short was as awful as it sounds, but Bruno was by your side for all of it.

What you can’t get off your mind, is how different your landlord acted in Bruno’s presence. When it had just been the two of you, you were treated with a complete lack of care, like your existence itself as a nuisance. There was a complete shift in demeanor upon walking into his office with Bruno by your side, like you were speaking to a different man. It reminded you of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, how he retained the same physical characteristics but adopted polite mannerisms. The whole exchange had been so jarring that you couldn’t help but ask Bruno about it, to which he offered a lackluster explanation. This haunting occurrence made you have more questions about his cryptic line of work, that you’re only fed spoonfuls of information at a time.

The two of them knew one another, but you don’t get the full spectrum of their relationship. It’s a gut feeling that it has to do with Bruno’s occupation, that he carefully skates around whenever brought up.

Mostly settled in for the evening, you’ve been lounging on the balcony of Bruno’s home. It’s a quaint house, in the suburbs of Naples, further confirming that he’s well off to some extent. The ocean is within view, the house sitting in a gated community near the water. In the distance, you hear seagulls mixed with traffic over people coming home from their jobs. You hug your knees to your chest, staring down at your phone with a frown. It’s a mild summer day, the breeze from the ocean tickling your face, but not lifting your spirit. You had texted a few friends before your move in hopes of getting their assistance, only for none of them to return your calls or messages.

It feels lonely. You feel lonely.

If it hadn’t been for Bruno’s quick thinking and connections, it would’ve been the two of you moving boxes on your lonesome. This cold shoulder behavior hurts, and you can’t help but wonder if you did something wrong without knowing it. Had there been some sort of cultural aspect you were unaware of, that offended them? Is that why they’ve been ghosting you? It’s one thing if they were busy, but you see your friend group posting regularly on social media. A sigh leaves your lips, weariness from the week’s events getting to you. It won’t do any good to dwell on these things, but insecurities haunt you like a persistent cloud.

“Is there something on your mind?”

Your head whips around at the voice behind you, settling down when you recognize Bruno. He’s in lounge wear, and you flush at the domestic sight. He’s a sight to behold, lithe frame pressed against the door and awaiting your response. It almost feels like you two are a married couple, being this casual with one another. The thought serves to fluster you further, so you push it away.

After all he’s done to assist you, it’d feel wrong to add friend troubles to the ever growing list. “N-not really, no.”

Bruno frowns at this, coming out to join you on the balcony. He takes the seat closest to you, leaning forward and gazing deep into your eyes. A hand is pressed to your bare thigh, though it stops before it can travel up in a lascivious way. Feeling his cold hand against your skin sends shivers down your spine, his knowing eyes making you shrink back into your seat. Guilt seeps into you for the lie. He seems in tune with people’s feelings, you’re no different. Instead of calling you out point blank on the falsehood, he offers reassurance.

“Remember what I said,” his tone is almost chastising, face scrunched up in displeasure. “I care about you greatly, [First]. You don’t have to carry your burdens alone.”

It comes before you can register. Tears sting the corner of your glassy eyes, silent sniffles leaving your person. As you think back to the images of your friends from last night, hanging out in one of your favorite spots with you, your lower lip trembles. Why is it that all this is happening? That you finally found a group of people that share your interests and passions, only to be left behind without an explanation? You despise how your throat clenches, each breath you take becoming more labored than the last. Bruno takes the opportunity to sit beside you, wrapping a reassuring arm around your shoulder and cooing into your ear.

All of it comes out like the floodgates of a dam, your head resting on his chest at his prompting. He holds you close, grounding you in reality, alternating between offering words of encouragement and peppering kisses onto your head. Your hands bunch up the fabric of his shirt, tears streaming down your face. No longer does shame occur to you, a forgotten thing of the past. You smell his rich cologne, that mixes in with the scent of the ocean. He’s been so good to you, too good. When the world has fallen apart, Bruno picks up the shards, placing them back together with tender care. Where would you be without his support? The thought is enough to bring a fresh set of sobs, self deprecating thoughts a mantra within your tattered mind.

His warm breath fans across your face, soft lips making contact with the shell of your ear. “Amore mio, what is it that brought this on? Tell me, so that I can take care of it all.”

“I have no one…! I don’t understand, none of it makes any sense,” you sniffle into his chest, voice muffled and waning. “My friends, even my coworkers! They act like I don’t… like I don’t even exist.”

Large, reassuring hands cup either side of your damp cheeks, pulling you to look him in the eyes. His thumbs wipe away your tears, unblinking sapphire eyes steadying you. The world stops around you, nothing else registering other than his existence. How his skin feels against your own, the way his hair brushes against your face, how wonderfully close he is. He hasn’t left you, he’s still by your side. Your lips tremble, and you curse your wretched existence. A moment of clarity comes, and with it, your sobbing subsides. The two of you stay still, your face in his hands, until your hiccups are reduced to occasional sniffles. Even that fades with time, much to your relief.

You take a shaky, deep breath, hoping to gain better control of your fluctuating emotions. In the blink of an eye, Bruno leans forward, pressing his lips against yours in a chaste kiss. A noise of surprise leaves you, but before you can think to return it or move away, he pulls back. Looking up at you through heavily lidded eyes, dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. The predetermined movement seems to have a physical effect on you, your face erupting into a blush. It’s been a rollercoaster of emotions that Bruno brings with him.

“You’re wrong on a single account,” he murmurs, his voice sweeter than honey, ensnaring you in a web of his own making. “You have me, and I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s strange, you think. How like two sides of the same coin, so much can go wrong, but an equal amount can go right. For every loss, Bruno has almost made up for it in some other way, an equilibrium being maintained. Will one side tip over, ruining the delicate balance, and sending you into chaos? There’s no way of knowing, yet you can’t help but wonder. Your life is interconnected to his now, for better or for worse. No longer do you care for the innate selfishness of seeking out his warmth, canting your head into his hand and closing your eyes.

“Thank you, Bruno. You’re right… I do have you.”

He seems content with your realization, a gradual smile spreading across his face. The sun has begun to set, warm colors dancing across his tanned skin. After a moment’s deliberation, he leaves your side, standing and looking towards the glass doors that lead inside.

“Let’s head inside for a cup of tea. It’s been a long day, so you shouldn’t stay up much later.”

You nod your head lazily at his suggestion, using the back of your hand to wipe away at the wetness that remains on your face. A nice warm drink sounds wonderful just about now, even in the middle of the summer. Having a task to distract yourself with is an added benefit, so you get up, following after him to the kitchen. The brisk air conditioning feels like a welcome wake up call, and you look around at the tastefully decorated surroundings. Your new home, for the time being. Life is unpredictable, if anything.

It has been an exhausting day. Or more like an exhausting past few weeks, you think. For now, your attention remains solely on the person who walks in front of you. A bashful idea pops into your head, and you catch up to Bruno and walk by his side. He looks over at you with potent curiosity, and the opportunity is present to offer a confession. “I, um… I wanted to say that you have me too. I mean it.”

Little did you know, there was never a time he believed otherwise.

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trashlord2020 · 3 years

Text

Adam Smasher (Cyberpunk 2077) 18+

A-Z NSFW Headcannons

WARNINGS: dubious consent (suggested) Necro (only mentioned in passing) and a callous disregard for partners enjoyment and wellbeing.

I provide these warnings so if any of it bothers you at all you can choose to not read this. If you disregard this and get upset by what you read, you've forfeit your right to complain, fight me. These are of course my own interpretations, in no way is this a 'end all be all'

A = Aftercare

What, letting you live isn't enough? But seriously, don't expect anything resembling 'care' outta this guy. At the absolute most if you happen to be in a room he owns you could get real lucky and he'll leave you to sort yourself out...just don't be there when he gets back.

B = Body part

He's a full body cyborg, every part is his favourite. He's almost constantly having things tuned or updated whether it's through Arasaka or his own hard earned eddies, But if he had to pick? His Hands, they're the thing that could end his partner in the moment with just one strong squeeze and having their life literally under his hands does something primal for him. His favourite body part of his partner? He might disguise it under mocking comments and insults but deep in there somewhere there's a man still and he's a thigh man for certain. Thicker they are, the better grip they provide and if his partner is able to pay enough attention they might catch how he almost caresses the skin...

C = Cum

Bodily fluids? disgusting. When he got his ah, 'upgrade' he most certainly passed on that. Sorry ! Sections provide required lubrication (don't forget to bring your own!) for the sake of avoiding friction but his own brand of 'popping the cork' is more of a build up in static and electricity. One he can control the build up of by adjusting 'sensitivity'.

D = Dirty Secret

He's not a shy kinda guy, he'll have his partners against the window just to brag if there's one available. No, this is more of a vulnerability than anything? Under the metal casing of his chest on each side the tubes and connectors tucked away are very sensitive. The purpose is so he knows if something is amiss or stuck and needs tending too but this has provided a sort of erogenous zone, one he's not at all keen to share with another.

E = Experience

Before his full body conversion you could say he was quite experienced, if paid partners counted of course. It's always been about him though, even when he (rarely) chooses to provide a helping hand it's been more of a show of dominance than anything. Now with his full Cyborg body and working for the worlds most powerful Corp he rarely finds himself having to pay, most people are either curious enough...or too scared to say no.

F = Favourite Position

Anything where he can shove his partners head down and bend them across something be it the floor, bed, table or counter He'll use it. As mentioned before walls and windows make a good substitute too. He prefers to be above his partner and them in a position of vulnerability where they have no control, he's in charge here and he takes every opportunity to prove that. It's very rare to find one self facing towards him, often too 'intimate' for his liking.

G = Goofy

If a partner has the guts they might be surprised to find that a little back and forth sarcasm and snark is enjoyed, even respected. Just be mindful not to insinuate any insults on his behalf, he won't take that lightly and if (when) he grows bored of the talk he'll make that known none too gently, better catch the hint sooner rather than later. So I'd say about 85% serious and 15% Snark.

H = Hair

He's got a slappable head, bald as a plucked chicken and well...he's all metal down there. No surprise.

I = Intimacy

If you really squint and tilt your head you might be able to trick yourself into believing the way he may cage his partner in from above as almost 'intimate' but it's really not...Just a show of pure dominance, nothing about enjoying the heat pouring off them at all... In all honesty this isn't making 'love' he's simply not capable of that, likely never was. He may lower his voice till you feel it more in your bones than hear it to whisper awful, dirty things only your both privy too but there's no true intimacy in his actions or words.

J = Jack Off

Araska didn't provide him with his 'tool' no, that's something he chose to indulge in with eddies from his freelance years and when the work was done he certainly took time to test things out. Nowadays he rarely indulges, why would you need to if he could have almost anybody that happens to spark his interest.

K = Kink

Breath play, no of course not his. The act of cutting somebodies life line off, holding them in suspense and watching the fear grow in their eyes as they wonder if he's even going to bother letting go...it really gets him riled up. The only reason he does bother to let them go instead of squeezing a little harder is that a corpse hardly has the same appeal, don’t mistake it for mercy.

L = Location

While Adam owns his own room he often has little use for it, spending at best an hour in there a day. You'd be lucky to be taken back there. He often finds himself in hotels/resorts instead, not his issue if it gets trashed then and nobodies going to barge in to investigate all the noise, not when mutters of 'smasher' quickly spread like wild fire. Enjoy your walk of shame back home. :)

M = Motivation

Often it's just a a general build up that leads to him indulging but a bloody fight will always leave him with some built up 'charge'. Many of his partners in recent years have been people he's done a recent job with, something about watching the blood steam off their cybernetics as they catch their breath really does it for him. Basically a callous and shared disregard for life is what would really catch his interest, otherwise it's purely down to cosmetics in which case don't expect a repeat.

N = NO

Making love...you probably saw this coming a mile away. As mentioned he's not shy, he knows what he wants and has little issue with obtaining it but if you're expecting a tentative partner who takes care of your needs? Keep looking, he'll never be that.

O = Oral

He's got no means of which to give oral, his jaw is made out of metal and there's no tongue hidden away. A small (very small) part of him laments not being able to taste what's he's enjoying but again, it would of been more for his enjoyment than anything. On the other hand he certainly enjoys the sight of somebody figuring out their way around him with hands and tongue, the tremor in their hands is something he picks up on without fail but this is never how he achieves his end goal. Attempting to blow Adam Smasher is the closest thing You'll get to foreplay.

P = Pace

A constant rough pace from start to finish, as mentioned somewhere above he can control his sensitivity so if he finds his charge building up too quick for his likening he doesn't have to slow down, just dial things back a little. There's no stuttering or slipping either as it's all controlled due to years of working with his cybernetics and yet, somehow it never fails to feel so raw and animalistic.

Q = Quickie

He likes for things to be 'to the point' as he's certainly not here for tea and biscuits... If he's free for the whole day and just finished a big job you might want to look into hiring a wheelchair for the next week but on average he's here to get his jollies and move on. Make sure to undress yourself though, it's an obstacle and we all know how much he enjoys tearing through those.

R = Risk

What your everyday joytoy may consider a risk he may simply see as a little spice to make things more interesting. He doesn't care if somebody was dumb enough to walk in on him but they sure as hell better be quick about leaving, he doesn't share. If his partner has (foolishly) made it obvious they don't want to be caught? He might find that a little insulting and make it a point for them to be caught or seen, again, it's about the dominance he has over them.

S = Stamina

There's no refractory period, none. If he wants to go again he can, the only thing that's going to stop him is the potential heat build-up from too many overcharges in too short a time. This right here is why you'll want to bring your own lube, things are going to get sore and quickly otherwise.

T = Toy

What he's got going on down there could be considered a 'toy'. Lots of interesting features he enjoys tormenting his partners with. That's not enough for you? He's not going to pretend to be thrilled about it but if you somehow got your own toys on hand then so long as they don't get in the way of his enjoyment, use away. Likely the only real chance you have at getting your own enjoyment to be honest, just don't try using them on him. He won't be amused.

U = Unfair

He enjoys demeaning and talking down to his partners, talk about how 'easy' they were or laugh at how weak they're proving to be. Might physically tease, bring them to the edge if he's super into the moment but he's only going to push you over if you really beg for it...not often he will though, he's in charge and he gets to decide how this plays out.

V = Volume

Besides all the inner workings of his cybernetics powering away and the times he decides to speak? Practically silent. No moans or gasps as he has no need to breath. If a overcharge proves to be particularly powerful (usually due to a lengthy build up) his Voice emitter may play some static feedback, closest thing you'll get to a groan. Besides, his partner will be more than making up for the silence.

W = Wild Card

He's bisexual but straight leaning. It's leftover from the gang he ran with once long ago when he was a everyday nobody. Nowadays he's simply not bothered what others think, incapable of considering it even. Women and more feminine leaning partners will have an easier time garnering his attentions but anyone's game if they prove themselves interesting enough.

X = X-Ray

Custom Hardware baby. Don't ask me what unlucky gonk had the job to make this but it's kitted out. The shape is as expected but the length can be retracted and extended at will. When in use the shortest it can go is 6 inches (he will never keep it this short though, that's below him) and the maximum length is 14 inches although ‘yikes’ lets be real, not a lot of people are going to be able to handle that, it's bragging rights and intimidation factor more than anything. His common use of range is 8-10 inch. He can move individual sections, vibrate and even cause minor shocks at will.

Y = Yearning

If no outside factors are taken into account it can take several weeks before he considers a roll in the hay. A lack of hormones means a lack of natural drive. But a busy week of fighting and killing will quickly land him in a private 'meeting'.

Z = ZZZ

Sleep? you're kidding right. Every few days (or weeks if it's a boring month) he has to have a system scrub and recharge of sorts. He has a private station for this so nobody is going to catch him unaware. Once the deed is done he's over and out, no pillow talk or sweet nothings. If you've managed to really leave an impression he might throw you a contact for seconds. It's run through a security system of course, can't have just anybody being able to contact him.

#I laid awake at 3am thinking about this #lost control of my life #gotta do everything myself stg #Adam Smasher #cyberpunk 2077

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years

Text

Protection - Chapter 2

Summary: August might’ve made a pretty bad impression on Mia, however, will she help him when he has a slight problem?

August Walker x Mia Makaruku (ofc)

Wordcount: 3.5k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

The next morning I finally decide to do the smart thing: I get up at seven in the morning, to clean my apartment, start prepping some meals and work through the piles of laundry I have neglected these past few days.

Okay, I didn’t necessarily do that because I decided to be a productive woman for once and try to get most out of my day, but it is mostly because I couldn’t sleep anymore. I have been having nightmares since I can remember, which is probably since the fatal car crash that killed not only my parents, but also my brothers.

At least, that is what I’m told.

I remember crashing, I remember being out of the car and waiting for the emergency services, but I don’t remember my family maybe running away, their bodies being dragged away from me. They could be anywhere, really.

Dead or alive.

But ever since that crash, I have nightmares. Sometimes there is a loud crash or a fire I can’t escape or I’m drowning.

Usually I wake up at least once—but mostly twice—in the middle of the night, but last night I slept through. That seems nice, but I was woken up abruptly, since it felt like I was falling off a building.

While I’m putting the salad in the containers and I place them neatly in the fridge, I hear someone knocking on my door. This early? What idiot is up already and wants to bother me? I walk to the door and once I open it, a nasty surprise awaits me.

‘What do you want?’ I ask the one and only August Walker. After yesterday, I have decided that I don’t want to be his friendly neighbor. He hurt me feelings and doesn’t deserve anymore of my kindness.

‘My heater is broken,’ he simply announces.

And for that he knocks on my door? ‘Sucks to be you,’ I tell him.

‘I only have one blanket and my other clothes are coming in later this morning, just as the mechanic.’

I’m flabbergasted to say the least. ‘And you are sharing this information with me, because…?’ I know damn well why he is sharing this with me, but I’m not that easy.

August sighs, visibly annoyed. ‘Because I was hoping I could stay here with you for a while.’

I bark out a laugh. ‘Are you kidding me? After what you said to me yesterday, you honestly think I would let you in my apartment? I would be bat shit crazy if I did that. You insulted me, August.’

‘I barely insulted you.’

He has some nerves. ‘You said you hated women’s soccer to a professional female soccer player.’ I give him a do I need to explain any further-look.

‘You told me my moustache made me look like a pedophile.’

I cock an eyebrow. ‘That was only after you insulted me. Had you never been mean to me, I would’ve kept it to myself. But that is beyond the point, really. The real question is: why are you bothering me?’

He clenches his jaw. He probably thought that with his brooding look and broad build, he could intimidate me into letting him in my house. Well, he thought wrong. ‘I just want to stay here for a few hours, till eleven. I won’t bother you, I promise, but I’m really cold.’

I lean against the doorframe, as I check my watch. ‘That is three hours,’ I tell him. ‘I can barely deal with you for three minutes, let alone three hours. The answer is no. Just fuck off, will you?’

August wants to hold back a laugh, but fails miserably. ‘You sure mean that,’ he chuckles. I know I shouldn’t think like this, but he looks actually very friendly when he laughs, even if he is laughing at me. ‘Listen, I might’ve made a bad impression on you yesterday.’

‘You might’ve? Goodness gracious, do you have any self reflection? You definitely made a bad impression.’

He sighs, but almost has something from a growl. ‘It’s a few hours, Mia. What’s the big deal?’

What’s the big deal? This man has got quite some guts, it’s almost admirable. ‘Well,’ I say, incapable of saying no to him, ‘if I can get an apology, you can stay here. Saying sorry is not that hard, even you can do it.’

‘I don’t do apologies.’

Of course he doesn’t. I’m not even surprised. ‘And I don’t give shelter to my shitty neighbors, even if it’s only for three hours. Goodbye August. Please, freeze to death.’

I want to close the door, but he simply places his hand on the flat surface. Fuck, he is strong, those arms certainly are not lying. The battle August Walker vs Mia Makaruku is a quick one and not in my favor, I can tell you that. ‘I don’t want to freeze to death, so I’m gonna say this one time and one time only, so you better listen carefully: I’m sorry I was rude.’

I smile. ‘See, it wasn’t that hard. I also liked it that you really sincerely apologized, meaning in from the bottom of your heart.’

I know I’m pushing the limits here. August glares at me, but even through the death glare he is sending me, I can actually see some humanity in his light orbs. I actually feel a bit sorry for him. I know, that surprises me too.

‘Come on. Just don’t bother me too much and the second the mechanic is here, I want you out of my apartment.’

‘Doable.’ I have barely stepped aside, when he barges into my apartment. He has the audacity to plop on my couch, grab the remote and turn on the television.

‘Yes August, please make yourself at home. Do you want a coffee with that? Some homemade chocolate croissants? A fucking massage?’ I slam the door shut and when I look at him, I notice the smug smile on his face because of my offers. I let out a growl. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

Unbeknownst of the company, Bobo trots into the room. When his eyes land on the stranger on the couch, he arches his back with his hackles raised and hisses. I’m glad to know my furry companion thinks just as lowly of the—sort of—uninvited guest as I do. ‘I’m not a big fan of cates,’ August notes.

‘I’m almost assuming this is your first time you’re over at someones place,’ I say. ‘You sure know how to not behave yourself. If you don’t like him, go back to your own place.’

‘Okay, okay, I’ll stop. What do I do if he comes near me?’ August looks up at me. ‘Do I just hiss back?’

Thankfully I can manage to keep a straight face. ‘That’s an option,’ I tell him, as I walk back to my kitchen. Do I hiss back? It’s nearly endearing, especially since it’s coming from a tough looking guy like August Walker. I prepare my coffee machine and ask: ‘Do you want some coffee?’ While I don’t necessarily want him here, I might make most out of it. Besides, I can’t possibly imagine someone is as rude as him without a reason.

Maybe he had a shitty youth. I mean, I encountered my fair share of foster siblings and some of them were rude as hell, but when I learned about their family situation, prior to this foster home, I realized they had every reason to act like they did. While my coping mechanism is to charm my ass off and make a good impression on everyone (and I mean literally everyone), August’s way to dealing with his trauma’s can be to push people away. However, I do think he desperately wants to make a connection. Despite not totally getting it, he did come to me when his heater broke, so that must mean I’m maybe the only one who is trying to be nice to him? Give him a chance, while he might not deserve it?

Right?

‘Sure,’ August says, while keeping a close eye on Bobo, who stares at him with his back still arched. ‘What’s the cat’s name?’

‘Bobo,’ I answer him. ‘I got him from the shelter. Fun story: I was actually looking to adopt a dog, but when I walked passed Bobo’s cage, I couldn’t say no to him. Like it was an instant click between us.’

August doesn’t say anything, so apparently he doesn’t agree on this being a fun story. While the coffee is running, I walk back to the living room, but as I pass a mirror, I manage to hold in my gasp.

I look like crap! I’m still wearing my flannel pajamas that are actually three sizes too large for me and I actually don’t think I can call this frizzy mess on my head, hair. I also have not put on any moisturizer yet and it shows.

To kind of make myself a bit more presentable, I twist my hair in a bun, to sort of contain it.

Yesterday I looked pretty put together. Today I look like an utter mess. I can barely blame August for not taking me seriously. I plop on the seat and Bobo jumps on the armrest. The orange cat sits down, but continues to take August in.

‘The staring is making me uncomfortable,’ August mentions.

‘You seem so tough, but looks can be very deceiving,’ I chuckle.

‘That’s not funny.’

‘It’s hilarious, you should grow a sense of humor,’ I retort. ‘Okay, tell me something fun about yourself.’

August frowns. ‘Why on earth would I do that?’

‘Because I’m providing you shelter,’ I say. ‘Honestly, it’s the least you can do. Tell me something fun. There must be something fun about you.’

‘You have to give me more than that,’ he mutters. ‘I don’t like talking about myself and I certainly can’t do it on the spot.’

Okay, that’s fair, I can’t do that either. ‘From where did you move here?’

August lets out a deep breath, as I watch him caressing his own thigh. It almost looks like he is soothing himself. Is this question making him uncomfortable? ‘Montana,’ he says, but it’s not very convincing. Hearing from his tone, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

‘You want a pet?’ I continue trying to strike up a conversation. I don’t want to stare at him for three hours (not that I would complain about it, because the view is pretty okay, it’s just slightly weird) and I need him to talk, because otherwise I have to kick him out.

‘I’m not a big fan of animals. As a matter of fact, I don’t even like animals.’

‘That’s really sad,’ I say, as I scratch Bobo behind his ears, earning me some load purring. ‘Animals are very nice and you always have someone to cuddle with. Or doesn’t August Walker like cuddles either?’

He looks over at me, not amused. ‘Do we have to talk?’ he asks, expertly avoiding my question, sarcastic or not.

‘Yes, we do. If you don’t want to talk, ask me something and at least pretend to listen when I do so.’

August cocks an eyebrow, before he thinks about it for a while. ‘Are you ever afraid of life?’

‘Geez,’ I exclaim, ‘way to make it this depressing in the morning!’

He simply shrugs. ‘You wanted me to ask you something.’

I sink deeper into the backrest of my soft one person sofa. The question does make me think. I’d like to surround myself with positivity, ignoring the bad things happening in the world and not think about the darker aspects in life. I know that is not very healthy and you should be aware of the things happening around you, but it has helped me through tough times in life.

But when I think about it, about the uglier side of life, I realize one thing. ‘I am afraid of life,’ I say.

‘Why?’ he asks.

‘Because it can be scary sometimes. Unpredictable.’ The sounds of screeching tires, a loud crash and the car tumbling over all flashes through my mind. ‘It can be painful.’ Realizing how upsetting this all sounds, I grab a pillow from behind me and throw it to August. ‘Why are you so damn miserable?’ I ask him. ‘We should start the day on a happy note, not make it this depressing.’

August breaks out in a smile and when he does so, he looks approachable. Not like my shitty and rude neighbor, but like a nice guy. ‘Well, your questions were too generic.’

‘Yours are too depressing.’

For a few seconds we simply look at each other, before we both burst out in laughter. It’s nice to see August Walker like this. He doesn’t look stuffy anymore and he lost the arrogant glow. ‘Well, while you think of more lighter questions, I’ll get the coffee. You want milk or sugar in it?’

‘No, just black will do.’

I walk to the kitchen, pour in the coffee in two bright red mugs and hand him one. ‘There you go,’ I say to him.

He simply takes it out of my hand, but I continue to hold it. ‘What are you doing?’

‘One usually says thank you when he or she receives something from someone.’ I remember it clearly, when one of my first foster parents taught me some lessons in being polite. Back then it was said in a loving way. Now I recreate the entire scene in more of a mocking tone.

August rolls his eyes, exactly as I expected him to do. ‘Thank you,’ he grumbles. ‘You happy now?’

‘Absolutely delighted.’

◎ ◎ ◎

At eleven ‘o clock sharp, August left because the mechanic arrived. Not long after that, I had to go to practice. Because of the presence of my neighbor the entire morning, I actually forgot about having to train with Tristan on the side of the field. I wondered what on earth I did to displease coach Riley. Okay, I know she does this because it is for my own good, but for fuck’s sake, I have never felt so humiliated in my time I’ve trained with the Red Stars.

Thankfully the awful training finally ended and at around five in the late afternoon, I’m back at my apartment building. When the doors slid open, I see Harold standing behind the reception as usual. I glide through the hallway and manage to stop right in front of him on the other side of the desk. ‘Hello Harold,’ I say to him.

‘Hello miss Mia,’ he says to me, as he places his under arms on the flat surface of his desk. ‘You seem awfully cheery today. I thought you had to take it easy today during training.’

Am I cheery? My teammates said this to me as well today, before I remembered I had to train on the side of the field and now Harold mentions it too? I don’t really know why I would be— Oh no! Does this mean what I think it means?

Did I enjoy August’s company this morning?

Well, to be honest, it was actually quite nice from time to time. I have been spending most of my time alone in my apartment (actually all the time). I mean, I love my teammates and we hang out after practice sometimes, but they have their own lives, their own families.

I don’t want to intrude, though they invite me from time to time. It’s more that I’m scared to join them. What if they only ask me to join them, because they want to be nice and polite?

After we talked for a while this morning, August and I, we spend some time watching television. It was almost as if we were alone together and that felt quite nice.

‘Just woke up in a cheery mode,’ I say, though it’s not exactly the truth. ‘Is there any mail for me?’

He shakes his head. ‘No, miss.’

‘For my new neighbor then?’

Harold shakes his head again. ‘How is he anyways? Heard about his heater being broken.’

I smile. ‘Well, he quite nice actually. Bit stuffy, like you said, but once you get to know him, he can be nice from time to time.’

‘Is that why you are cheery?’ he asks.

‘What?’ I exclaim. How did Harold guess that right away? Yes! ‘No, what on earth would give you that impression?’

Harold tries to keep a straight face, but he fails and I realize I’ve been caught red handed. ‘Well, miss Mia,’ he says, thankfully not adding any fuel to this disastrous situation, ‘I’m glad to know that you manage to make even him likable. You are a very special lady.’

‘Right,’ I say, after I cleared my throat. ‘I’m gonna go. See you later, Harold.’

He chuckles. ‘Later, miss.’

When I step out on the right floor, I let out a deep sigh. Is it true? Am I cheery because of August Walker? Who would’ve guessed. When I pass his door and I fumble with my keys, I hear a door open. I look to my side and see August stepping into the hallway.

‘Good afternoon, neighbor,’ I say to him. ‘How are you?’

He doesn’t smile and the nice August I saw every so often this morning, has disappeared into thin air. While I want to be annoyed by it, I can’t help but notice to see the slight pain in his eyes. I saw it this morning and I see it now. From the looks of it, he is hurting and I relate. I know how it feels.

But what I also know is that deep down there is a lovely soul, it’s just protected by a very thick wall.

‘Good afternoon,’ he hums. ‘I realized I took this from you.’ He holds out the red mug I handed to him three times this morning. This man gulps down coffee as if it is water and for a second I was genuinely concerned he would have a caffeine overdose.

He seems to have managed just fine.

‘Oh, thank you,’ I say as I take it from him when he stepped closer to me. ‘I probably wouldn’t have missed it. I have way too many mugs, but thanks anyways.’

The way August is hot and cold within a matter of seconds, is something I should put up with from now on. I have decided to give this man with some pretty poor social skills the benefit of the doubt. Besides, I actually quite enjoy having him around.

No wonder I was cheery today.

August buries his hands in his pockets and is probably waiting for me to say something.

‘Your heater fixed?’ I ask.

He simply nods. ‘Yes, all good now.’

Is he waiting again for me to say something? This man… Before I can even think about the pros and cons of my very impulsive idea, I ask him: ‘Do you have plans tomorrow night?’

‘I don’t,’ he says, before he frowns. 'Why?’

‘I have two tickets for a Bulls game.’

He looks confused. ‘A what game?’

‘Bulls game. Chicago Bulls. Basketball,’ I clarify. ‘I mean, you can go with me if you want.’

‘And why would I want to do that?’

‘Because I’m the loveliest neighbor and human being for that matter, you have ever encountered in your life and you desperately want to spend more time with me.’

August doesn’t smile. Maybe he is conflicted, because he occasionally let his guard down this morning.

And maybe this question is way too much. I don’t really understand I was questioning his social skills this morning, while I’m out here overstepping all sorts of boundaries.

‘Sure,’ he however says to my surprise. ‘I can’t really think of worse things to do tomorrow.’

‘You’re such an asshole,’ I tell him. ‘You were quite nice this morning in my apartment. What changed?’ I don’t give him time to answer. ‘Oh wait, I think I get it. It’s this hallway that turns you into a complete asshole.’

‘You can still un-invite me,’ he says, with an amused glimmer in his eyes.

‘I can do that of course, however believe it or not, I barely have friends and the few I have, all have their own social circles and don’t like to go to Bulls games.’

‘Then why did you purchase two tickets?’

‘Because it was cheaper to buy two tickets and I’d like to live up to the stereotype that the Dutch are stingy cheapskates.’

‘I can tell you, Mia, it’s working,’ he says. ‘Someone without friends who want to go to Bulls games with her, purchases two tickets, simply because it’s cheaper.’

I stick out my tongue. ‘Well, whatever. It starts tomorrow at six and it’s within walking distance from here. You have time?’

‘I sure do.’

‘And you still want to go with me?’

He nods.

‘Well, see you tomorrow then, August.’

He looks at me, a long and intense stare, before he says: ‘See you tomorrow, Mia.’

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #Henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x soccer player #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x mia makaruku #august walker #august walker x ofc #august walker x asian ofc #august walker x oc #august walker x mia makaruku #august walker x soccer player #fic: protection #asian ofc #mia makaruku

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mycelier · 3 years

Text

Xena Coffee Shop A/U Idea

So Gabrielle works in coffee shop, maybe Starbucks, but more likely a smaller more niche store that is soft and quiet with big squishy couches where all the regulars know and love her. She’s exhausted from managing the place without being an official manager (or maybe she is idk) but she smiles often and the place remains busy despite a Starbucks having moved in just around the block because (although she would absolutely deny this) the patrons look forward to her positivity and advice. But people know not to mess with her or try to cause trouble for her or any of her fellow employees because although she is sweet she’ll kick you out if you even THINK about being rude to any of the employees.

Xena founded a karate/jujitsu/something hybrid gym SOMETHING where her primary focus is helping people (in particular, women or marginalized people who feel weak or unsafe or feel incapable of protecting themselves), but she doesn’t turn away people if they come to her for the right reasons. She hosts daily fighting lessons using different techniques (jujitsu, weapons, hand to hand, p much everything) and had reached an almost legendary status to those who have come to her in their time of need. It is well known in many circles that Xena used to the be the head of a....gang? Crime syndicate? Mob? I’m not sure, but something HUGE and something that made her a lot of money and a LOT of enemies before she left the life for good. I kind of like the idea of her being some kind of crime boss for some huge underground syndicate because that gives some room for some kidnappings and crazy stuff but also that’s hot as hell.

Joxer DEFINITELY becomes an employee by simple virtue of being in the store so much and bugging her so much that he may as well be being paid for it (but also he is...surprisingly good at creating new roasts and making cool new drinks so why not). He thinks he’s suave (like Ares) but deep down knows he’s not.

Ares is the obnoxious rude ass businessman who treads the line of being banned from the store but is accepted only because he buys ENORMOUS amounts of their coffee for his meetings or whatever. He’s buff as hell and has reflexes that put a cat to shame. I’m not sure if he’s officially into martial arts but he knows a lot of things from a lot of places. OH MAYBE HE IS LIKE BIG BOSS OF CRIME SYNDICATE THAT HAD BEEN PARTNERED WITH XENA’S IDK.

Ephiny is a student of Xena’s; she’s amazing but struggles with trusting partners after the loss of her husband (Phantes). Her son is just getting to the point of toddling and she already has him INVOLVED with Xena as much as is physically possible. She also works with Gabrielle in the coffee shop and is the eventual link that brings Gab and Xena together.

Callisto was Xena’s top student and top pain in the ass until the loss of her family. She now trains at a “rival” dojo. She’s constantly proclaiming herself better than Xena and trying to take Xena down a notch or two despite the fact that that’s not how any of this works. She lost her mom and sister in a fire and blames Xena (she was 8 or 9 and a student at Xena’s dojo; Xena took her home one evening with nobody came to pick her up after practice. she tried to run into the burning building but it was too far gone. she claims Xena kept her from saving her family but deep down thinks that if she hadn’t been at practice she might have been able to save them). She will probably have some kind of redemption arc because I feel bad for her even though she is irredeemable (from what I’ve seen so far in the show).

Perdicus worked at the coffee shop but left to figure out how he could win Gabby’s heart (they grew up together and he’s loved her since he knew what love was but she’s always been...unsure). He’s gonna be in the thing as like...some kind of friend at the very least because Callisto did him dirty in the show and I liked him.

Iolus and Hercules MAY run the “rival” gym. “Rival” continues to be in quotes because although everyone in the town sees them (Xena and Herc) as rivals, they have nothing but respect for one another. Herc is in love with Xena (she thought she loved him too..once.) and Iolus THINKS he’s in love with Xena and then thinks he loves Gabby but realizes he loves Hercules; this may be a uniting factor for Xena and Gabby as they work to try and help Iolus overcome his insecurities and confess his feelings to Hercules (who will be startled but is bi as hell and will be really excited because he thought Iolus was SUPER into Gabby/straight as could be).

Autolycus is an art thief a la Cary Grant in Psych. He has a lot of money but lives relatively modestly and donate a fair amount to charities and to Gabby’s coffee shop, all under a pseudonym of course because it could never get out that he secretly wants to be Robin Hood more than anything in the world. Perhaps at some point the coffee shop has gone broke (maybe Krykus runs the shop and he’s an asshole who doesn’t care and ends up stealing a ton of money and running off into the night?????) and Autolycus (and Xena) band together to purchase the shop and put it to Gabby’s name (which upsets Gabby at first until she realizes that they were helped by the ENTIRE STAFF and a lot of the loyal customers because they love her and they love the changes she’s made to the shop).

I’m thinking...maybe one night, late, after Gabby had to stay to do inventory and order stock, she’s mugged. They have a gun and although she’s willing to give them what’s in her wallet, she fights back when they threaten to physically assault her and she ends up punched a few times. Now, depending on how dark I want this to be...she’s either beat up BAD and ends up joining the gym after Ephiny finds her and takes her to the hospital and demands she take better care of herself....but more likely (because it’s HOTTER), Gabby is saved by Xena, who had also been at her gym late doing an inventory and stock of the small pre-packaged bars and shakes she sells or something, important because maybe Gabby will start providing some kind of healthy snack as a thank you to Xena??? Anyway, Xena busts in after Gabby’s beat up and saves the damn day. Now!!! Either Xena falls in love INSTANTLY but keeps it way down because that’s who she is, or she simply thinks Gabby is cute (’m not decided) and is delighted at first when she sees Gabby show up to her gym. Gabby is enraged and frustrated that she wasn’t able to protect herself and Xena shows her how to redirect and channel her anger away from doing harm and into protecting herself.

This will EVENTUALLY and ultimately be a Xena x Gabby fic but I think it’s gonna take a while for Gabby to get there. When she realizes she loves Xena it will hit her like a sack of bricks and she won’t be able to breathe for a few moments as she takes in the woman who has become her best friend in the entire world and realizes that she absolutely loves her.

And that’s more writing or thinking about writing than I’ve done in eons but I wanted to get it down somewhere.

#xena fic idea #xena warrior princess #xena x gabrielle FOREVER #writing ideas for sometime when I actually think I can write #if anyone is even vaguely interested lemme know!#sometimes encouragement goes a long way with me

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sebastianshaw · 3 years

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My big issue with how Marauders deals with Shaw is that while yeah, Shaw always was a bastard piece of crap I want to see fail, I want it to be fair, I want it to be developed properly.

There's no satisfaction in seeing someone that was already defeated losing, Duggan never gives him a chance, he isn't a good villain he is just a punching bag and a plot device.

And the fact he hasn't let Shinobi punch that bag at least a little bit it's annoying, if you will do character bashing at least make it a public event for everyone he wronged, not only the women you want stepping on you, Duggan.

(Sorry I didn't answer this earlier, I was out and this is the sort of ask I needed to be at a computer to reply to ^^) YES EXACTLY. Even if you're not at all familiar with Shaw, or if you hate him (which is totally justified/valid, there are MULTIPLE reasons to DESPISE Shaw, I think there's MORE reason to hate him than not, and I say that as someone who loves him), even if you think Duggan's overall characterization is correct. . . it's still poor writing in how he portrays him as incompetent, incapable, and not at all a threat to the heroes. We also see this in Verendi and the other bad guys who appear, NONE of them have been able to even slightly challenge the heroes in a serious way. And that's a problem. Because a story is only as good as its villain. If you do not provide a suitable challenge to your heroes, if you do not give them an obstacle that they have to struggle against, then their victory doesn't mean as much. If we don't feel fear for our heroes, if we don't feel there's a possibility they could fail, if we don't find ourselves wondering how they'll win (or in some cases, even survive), then it's not half as satisfying when they do overcome those odds. Shaw is introduced in Marauders #2 as needing to come to Emma for financial aid, which is absurd enough. Shaw is the business as Sinister is to science, this is the thing he's the best at. So instantly, his biggest talent is undermined, and he's in the position of needing something from our hero, who lords it over him. He is then debased into throwing a comical tantrum like a bratty child, and then Kate comes in and "zomg pwns" him by calling him a bitch, ooooh! Even if Duggan had written him perfectly for the rest of the series, this would be a really bad way to introduce him as anything resembling a capable challenge for our protagonists. This can work for lesser villains, for ones who are meant as comical lackeys or slimy underlings, or for who are meant to be more a HATE SINK than anything (note that Hate Sinks are rarely the primary antagonists; for instance, in Aladdin, it's not Jafar, it's Prince Achmed) but if they're meant to be a Big Bad, it doesn't work. You can't introduce your overarching villain---which Shaw seems meant to be, as he's the most consistent one---as a joke. You definitely can't continue to treat him as a joke that the heroes can poke and prod and walk all over at every turn. I think even Duggan knew that to a degree, because he let Shaw suddenly become competent just long enough to kill Kate, which is what gives Kate and Emma justification to then wipe the floor with him like they did. He's written as otherwise being too much of a helpless inept clown to justify such a response. And speaking of said response. . . god it's so bad? Not because Shaw is brutalized---I am fine with that, I legit agree he had that coming and he's a bad guy, I'm not expecting him to win or fare well---but because he's brutalized so easily and with so little resistance. Shaw is not an easy foe, and he never has been. His combination of resources, influence, and mutant power is an incredible force. It has been stated in canon that it's easier to take down a small country than Shaw, and he's generally proven that true. He fails in every story he's been in, but he puts up such a fight on all fronts, physical and scheming, that it's easy to forget that, and typically does a lot of damage to the heroes in the process. Sometimes he even obtains some kind of consolation prize. Whatever the story though, besting him is almost always a struggle, as it should be. So if you told me that Kate and Emma, two incredibly intelligent and skilled and powerful women in their own rights, took on Shaw, and that the fight ends with him missing an eye and in a wheelchair, I would think this must have been the most epic battle since the Phoenix Saga. Some incredible fight that displays the cunning tactics and physical ferocity of all three, giving them each their due in a glorious battle that the ladies win by the skin of their teeth. I would have LOVED that. And we

know that's not what happens. What happens is a farce so pathetic it would be funny if it weren't so vile. It's also nonsensical; Kate is able to bloody Shaw's nose BEFORE they turn his powers off, which shouldn't be possible, this man was introduced taking blows to the face from Colossus and SMILING. Or how Shaw has ZERO SECURITY at Blackstone and OPENS HIS OWN DOOR despite being shown to have staff earlier and being a canonically intelligent, cunning man who had to know these ladies were on to him. It's a completely effortless curb-stomp battle, and it does not only a disservice to Shaw as a villain, it does a disservice to Kate and Emma. Because as you said, they don't earn this victory. There's no struggle, no effort, no doubt they'll win. And that not only saps all the tension out of it, it robs them of a chance to shine. If they're not forced to give a fight all they've got, we don't get to SEE all they've got. And as you said, there's no satisfaction in seeing Shaw lose if he was already losing every step of the way. I am all for Shaw losing. My favorite stories of Shaw all have that. But goddamn, do it RIGHT. Also: yes god you're completely right about Shinobi. I think Duggan treats Shinobi with sympathy simply because he hates Shaw so much, but he's also not interested in giving Shin any real spotlight or closure when he could just have his favorite women doing All the Things instead. I think he will eventually come back to Shin's story but it's already WAAAAY overdue. And Shin deserves a shot at Sebastian SO MUCH!!!

#salt #out of shirt

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regrettablewritings · 4 years

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If requests are still open, could you do the love one w Bruce Wayne please??

Sure, they’re still open, and I can most certainly try! Though I must admit that quite a few of these headcanons have actually been mentioned or featured in separate sets I've done throughout the years. While some aspects may have changed since then, not much really feels like it's changed to me. As such, I'll try my best to answers these, but will also provide links that go into further detail. Hope that's alright!!

Who said “I love you” first?: You say it first, though the effort to do so makes you nervous. After all, you weren’t even sure if Bruce returned your feelings: Certainly, you were his longest-lasting and seemingly the most engaging relationship he’d had to the date, but you were most certainly not the first girl he’d brought home or shared some interesting experiences with. You wanted to trust that Bruce did hold some feelings for you deep down beneath that stoic and calm exterior, but some part of you worried: Maybe you were a passing phase of some kind? In actuality, no, you were definitely someone special. The problem (if it could be called that) was that Bruce just doesn’t use the phrase, “I love you” so lightly, much less often: If he’s going to use it, he wants it to really stand out and mean something. It therefore calms your nerves a great deal once he finally does it in the quiet of your home, just as you’re both about to depart for your respective work days. Suffice to say, your day is absolutely made, knowing that by the end of it, you’ll be going back to the home of someone who you can confirm, without a doubt, loves you.

What are their primary love languages?: Bruce enjoys physical touch, but not quite for the reasons people think he does. Being touch starved resulted in him seeking the hold of someone -- anyone -- in far too many cases of desperation. And sadly, it’s resulted in a lot of heartbreak and manipulation.But what makes it all so different when it comes from you is that you don’t take advantage of him by playing to his needs; you just provide the hugs and kisses because you actually want to. You’d really be surprised how many strings were attached to Bruce’s past instances of spooning, or how many threats lingered in the lipstick stains on his cheeks. There’s nothing so malicious in yours. Only ever desire or good will. And for this, you tend to be rewarded with Bruce’s zeal for giving gifts. Well, not so much zeal as it is how he feels he can best present you how much he cares. It took a bit of time (much to his embarrassment [world’s greatest detective his ass]) but eventually he did realize that it wasn’t necessarily material and superficial goods you sought after: It was in little things like small gestures of his love for you, or in the kitschy post cards he would sometimes send you with codes littered on them. Little unique items, wrapped or postmarked with his heart, destined only for your ownership.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?: Not very often, at least not any extensively intense PDA. Sure, you’ll hold hands while in public, or he’ll place a hand at your waist as you attend a gala together. But despite Bruce loving physical touch, this doesn’t mean he wants to over-do it, much less in a way that might make you feel uncomfortable. Besides, anyone can share a kiss. But only someone he truly trusts can share a touch that sticks with him. When you’re at home, he’s not adverse to you joining him in his study and keeping him company as he looks over files both for Wayne Enterprises, and for Batman-oriented content. There have been plenty times where you’ve fallen asleep against his chest, his arm wrapped about your waist so that you won’t fall over.

What are their favorite things to do together?: It depends. Date nights are actually a bit more difficult for the two of you than the average billionaire’s, mainly because the average billionaire doesn’t also double as a vigilante. You’ve managed to do some more typical things like go to events that support the arts like operas or the ballet. Other times, you try to keep it decidedly lowkey -- though it’s a bit hard to do a lowkey paint-and-sip when all the people around you are either sneaking photos of your boyfriend, or eyeballing him because, hey, he’s far prettier than whatever subject the group was set to paint. But sometimes, these things can prove to be a headache: Because where there aren’t regular nosy civilians, there are the even nosier paparazzi. So when the time permits it, the two of you might rent out a place like the museum or a restaurant and just enjoy yourselves. But ultimately, not everything can beat just spending the night in, catching up on one another’s week or just plain resting. Snuggled up together, of course.

Who’s better at comforting the other?: You are, even though you may not always think so. You would think that cheering up or comforting the man who has everything would be a tough job, but the reality is that it really isn’t if you actually make an effort. To be quite frank, sometimes the fact that you made an effort at all is enough to lift his spirits even by 1%. You may have your doubts about the extent to which your attempts work but the truth is that when Bruce so much as smirks in your direction, you’ve done a damn good job. You worked for that smirk; own it. Bruce just simply isn’t the world’s most emotive person, even in private. But that doesn’t mean you should be so quick as to doubt your competency. Talk to him; hug him; rub his back consolingly; tell him an awful joke. He’ll appreciate you for it.

Who’s more protective?: Bruce is. The deaths of his parents kickstarted his protective streak in some form, and it’s really only evolved since then due to various incidents (including but surprisingly not limited to the Kryptonian Attack). And as dreamy as it can be, knowing that you’ll always have the protection of this massive wall of a man and his arsenal of weaponry and physical attacks, it needs to be taken with a grain of salt: Bruce can and has gone off the deep end, becoming overzealous to the near point of destruction. If he fears a threat may be directed at you or will effect any of his loved ones, there is very little that will stop him from going on the attack and sparing no expense.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?: Physical. Now that he’s aware of how much meaning and care can actually be packed into a single touch, Bruce seeks yours out. In addition, he doesn’t mind being able to return the favor by even just holding your hand and rubbing it with his calloused thumb.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?: Ironically, “Aquaman” by Walk the Moon comes to mind. It’s not that Bruce is incapable of expressing or experiencing love: It’s more like occurrences both romantic and non-romantic have resulted in him becoming protective of his heart and increasingly reluctant to be even 90% open and vulnerable. (Remember: The two most frequent examples from his love life are women who ultimately used him or manipulated him in some way, so who could really blame him?) But you’ve been almost saintly patient with him, holding his hand the entire way not to be condescending or even pull him along, but to guide him and show him your constant support of his efforts and progress. And lo, the Crown Prince of Gotham eventually let his head underwater: And he can breathe there. He wasn’t wrong to be afraid of going in -- he just needed the right swimming partner. But for something more in-universe, look no further than a few jazz standards because fun fact: Bruce is actually a talented singer. No, seriously. He’s a crooner! And next to nobody knows about it because he makes a constant effort to hide it. Hell, even you didn’t know about it until the day he slipped up. And you had the addicting voice of the late and great Ella Fitzgerald to thank. Not even the world’s greatest detective could refuse her crisp yet calming voice, allowing her rendition of “These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)” to take up space in his ears and head until he could no longer bear it: Without even noticing it, he was singing it quietly as he fumbled around in the kitchen, fixing himself some coffee. He nearly dropped the mug when he turned around and saw you wearing a stunned expression on your face. And ever since then, Bruce singing jazz has become a lot more common in the house than ever before. When you’re upset, you might ask for him to sing. You need to sleep, you listen to a recording of him you sneaked. And sometimes, you just want to hear him sing: Of trips to romantic places, of candle lights on little corner tables, of two lovers who walk on the streets like dreamers . . . The foolish things that remind him of you.

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?: Bruce isn’t exactly the most creative when it comes to nicknames. A lot just don’t sound quite right coming out of his mouth, at least to him, especially since he’s aged up some since his more notorious playboy days. “Babe” or “Honey” have always been a part of his repertoire, but he’s noticed that “Darlin’“ and “Sweetheart” seem to flow a lot more smoothly with time. You, on the other hand, at least try to be more personal and creative. But it’s a lot harder than it seems, given that Bruce isn’t exactly the easiest name to derive nicknames from. Of course, you stumble your way to cheesy ones like “Prince Charming” or “Handsome”, but you always find yourself crawling back to throwing “Babe” and “Sweetie” right back at him.

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