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mamirhodessxox · 2 months

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Little party never killed nobody

Jay Gatsby x Fem!Model Reader

Based in the 1920’s

Desc- Jay & His wife held yet another party at the manor but this time with a little spice, he specifically added in a runway just to have his wife reveal herself to the guests in dazzling way

Contents: Fluff, Alcohol, Smoking, Gatsby throwing obnoxious parties, Gatsby being Gatsby, Y/N serving cunt and telling of Tom & Daisy.

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) Votes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

For the last 3 years Gatsby was known for throwing parties & obnoxious ones at that, at first they were to impress Daisy but once he met you he knew she had nothing compared to you, you were known throughout New York for being straight forward with people & modeling the top fashion trends of the 20’s that Daisy wish she could participate in.

You two got together almost immediately after meeting and now tonight marks your 1 year anniversary with Gatsby and he only hosts his parties now for you and only you. To hell with Daisy’s impression of his parties. He wanted you to make a grand entrance tonight so the man rented out a whole runway JUST for you. The two of you walked around the mansion checking out tonights set up. Your arm locked in with his as you held a martini in your free hand “How do you feel darling? Would you like to add in your own flair my dear?” Jay muttered in your ear making you smile up at him “Nothing could be more perfect Jay. Y’know you don’t need to throw these extravagant events for me my dear. I’m already impressed with your admiration for me.” He hummed and shook his head “Nonsense. You’re my wife darling it’s my job to do all the theatrics for you. Now, let me show you the outstanding runway just for you my dear.”

Hours go by & night had finally invaded the sky as well as the galaxies stars, the house was practically lit up in a spew of colors with music blaring throughout the East egg, multiple guests welcoming themselves inside your humble abode, Gatsby finally announced your name to reveal yourself to the guests who adored you the most but never as much as him, You walked your way down the glittering runway as you wore the most expensive flapper dress with sequin & other glitzy accessories acquired to the dress swinging around while a feather was attached to the headband you wore upon your head.

You soon walked off and attached yourself to Gatsby with a grin while placing a kiss on his neck “Oh my dearest one you’ve never failed to impress me” he grinned and ran his hands down your back before spinning you around “I hope you don’t mind dear but I have invited over some friends, Y/N this is our neighbor Nick.” You smiled “why darling of course I wouldn’t mind, Half of the city is at the house anyway” You smiled and held out your hand to his friend “It’s a pleasure to meet you dear Nick” he smiled and shook your hand

“And you as-well Mrs Gatsby, I hope you wouldn’t mind terribly but I’ve brought my Cousin & her husband with me, Daisy & Tom buchanan to be specific” You knew who they were & they were your least favorite type of people, You hummed distastefully as Gatsby held you close as he took the wheel “Why of course not, why don’t we all find somewhere quiet and catch up hm? What do you think dear?”

You looked up at him & smiled in approval. The 5 of you made your way to the library & Jay was seated talking with Tom addressing his condescending remarks while you stood behind Jay staring down Daisy before kissing his cheek before she ran her mouth. “Perhaps it’s classless for a woman to stroke up on her husband in-front of guests no?” Tom quirked an eyebrow up at his wife as Nick cleared his throat uncomfortably while you decided to play hooky & sit on Jays lap embracing his arms around your waist before you went off.

“Classless? No dear I don’t believe i’m the one lacking class You see, the only woman here who lacks class is You daisy darling, You also lack a sense of self respect for yourself as-well, You willingly married a man who lacks respect for the other race because he thinks only white people are the ones to be in control, You also married a man who has no respect for you either, I’m sure everyone in this very room know about his scandalous affairs with another woman besides You.” Jay cleared his throat “My apologies she’s ju-“ you look around at him and glare “Do not interrupt me Jay I have not finished speaking. It is also classless to be a gold digger that only marries men for the glitz & glimmer and also leaving another man behind because he was busy defending this country, Being a gold digger that lacks self respect is in-fact classless so do not compare me to you ever again especially in the home you’ve been invited to Daisy, it’s a privilege to be in the same room as me and be in my house, It’s a privilege i’m even speaking to you.”

Daisy sat there in utter shock while Tom stood up to smack you but you stood up as-well “I wish a brute like you would lay his hands on me, Your just a dumb classless man who was born into money instead of working for it like Jay, Your a man who lacks respect for the opposite race and women, your a dumb man that reads big books with long words to make you feel smart when you lack intelligence now rid you and your wife’s presence out of my house before I have you removed.” Jay stood behind you with his hands against your shoulders as he watched the wedded couple leave while Nick stood in amazement “Your the first person to tell them off like that.” Jay chuckled and wrapped his arms around you “She’s a fire cracker isn’t she? She’s quite an honest woman I’ll say.”

You hum and turn to wrap your arms around your husband as he presses his lips against you while the light of the fireworks popping outside of the library’s window shines against you two. Nick hummed “Yes well I suppose I should make it home.” You two weren’t even listening so he left anyway. Gatsby pressed your body against a desk and ended the night off with true excitement between you two before the sun came up.

🏷️ list: @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf @puppy-princ3ss

xtripleiiix’s Masterlist

#jay gatsby x reader #jaygatsbyimagine #jay gatsby imagines #jay gatsby imagine #jay gatsby #the great gatsby x reader #great gatsby imagine #the great gatsby imagines #great gatsby

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every-character-ever-poll · 3 months

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WEEK EIGHT LINEUP

We did it! Finally. Week Seven is complete, and we can move on to greener pastures - by which I mean we can slog our way through a new 'Week'! I can't think of anything funny to say here right now so let's just get into it.

Norah Jakobs - The Nice House On The Lake

Jaehee Yoo - Let Dai

Graham Ness Payser, the Pacesetter - Toontown: Corporate Clash

Amaya - The Dragon Prince

Lottie Matthews - Yellowjackets

Clippy - Microsoft Word

Gren - The Dragon Prince

Kafuka Fuura - Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei

Piers - Golden Sun

Ron - The Who Was? Show

Tohru Honda - Fruits Basket

Nightcrawler - X-men

Henriette de Pusay - Les Colombes du Roi-Soleil

Monsieur Tidbits - The Who Was? Show

Hariham Harry - Hugtto Precure

Chief - Animal Crossing

Venti - Genshin Impact

Geraldine - The Who Was? Podcast

Quote - Cave Story

Bait - The Dragon Prince

Dale Gribble - King of the Hill

Drizzt Do'Urden - Dungeons and Dragons - Forgotten Realms

Clytie Van Gogh - Fate/Grand Order

Madoka - Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Boston - Only Friends: The Series

Count Olaf - A Series of Unfortunate Events

Phosphophyllite - Houseki no Kuni

Battler - Umineko When They Cry

Mona Lisa Vito - My Cousin Vinny

Medic - Team Fortress 2

Gus - Sweet Tooth

Apollo Justice - Ace Attorney

Twigleg the Homunculus - Dragon Rider

Thirteen - Obey Me!

Daisy Buchanan - The Great Gatsby

John Yossarian - Catch-22

Hikari Kuina - Alice in Borderland

Jintetsu - Kurogane

Fantine - Les Misérables

Telemain - Enchanted Forest Chronicles

Mahiru Shiina - MILGRAM

Garroth - Mystreet / Minecraft Diaries

Nami - Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons

Amethyst Heart - Magical Warrior Diamond Heart

The Amazing Karnak - Ride the Cyclone

Marvin - Falsettos

Hearthstone - Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard

M.X.E.S. - Five Nights At Freddy's

Draco Malfoy - A Very Potter Musical

Zombie Cleo - Hermitcraft & Traffic Life

Henry the Duck - 36 Questions

Lazarus - Ribbon Rabbit Daycare

Jeff - Doors

Almoral - Biz Mart

Prince Blueblood - My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic

Maya Fey - Ace Attorney

Amanda Young - Saw

Molli Pop - Candies n Curses

Deckard Cain - Diablo

Zee - Total Drama Island

Hiura Erika - The Night Beyond The Tricornered Window

Takuto Maruki - Persona 5 Royal

Emma - Total Drama Presents: The Ridonculous Race

Perona - One Piece

Noah - Total Drama

Gin Ibushi - Your Turn to Die/Kimi ga Shine

Cody - Total Drama

Kitty - Total Drama Presents: The Ridonculous Race

Torchic - Pokémon

Amaya - The Dragon Prince

Guido - Cars

Mecha Mountie - Death Road to Canada

Oliver - Vocaloid

Yuki Takeya - School-Live

Eric Cartman - South Park

Harold - Total Drama

K.K. Slider - Animal Crossing

Shawn - Total Drama: Pahkitew Island

Spinel - Steven Universe

Junior - Total Drama Presents: The Ridonculous Race

Applejack - My Little Pony Friendship is Magic

Fluttershy - My Little Pony Friendship is Magic

Wayne & Raj - Total Drama Island 2023

Mimikyu - Pokémon

Frye - Splatoon 3

Millie - Total Drama Island 2023

Ghetsis - Pokémon

Chef Hatchet - Total Drama

Minty - My Little Pony

The Arcanist - Flight Rising

Maud Pie - My Little Pony Friendship is Magic

Zell - Animal Crossing

Coco - Animal Crossing

Pearl - Splatoon 2

Big Man - Splatoon 3

Torachi - King of Prism

Bill Cipher - Gravity Falls

Sailor Venus - Sailor Moon

Kyubey - Madoka Magica

Mikan Shiratama - PriPara

Herobrine - Minecraft

#not a poll #the week ahead #A lot of Total Drama submissions this week. My Little Pony also has a fair amount

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mustlovesteve · 25 days

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Had a weird dream that one of the ST s5 trailers was Steve-centric but it was also a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure type thing?? Different events happened depending on what part of his house you focused on and whether you moved certain rock formations around to allow characters to move to new places (video game logic lol).

It took place pre-S1. Highlights included Nancy being with Steve most of the time but neither of them choosing to investigate the very troubling noises, one jock’s face turning into a smashed pumpkin with teeth and starting to kill all these other jocks that were at Steve’s house, and Steve getting possessed by Vecna and stabbing his mom with a bunch of knives that appeared out of thin air.

Within the dream, I was troubled (I didn’t want a Steve-centric season for various reasons), confused (what kind of trailer format is this), and annoyed (if Steve only stabs his mom under certain circumstances then did it happen in canon or not like what is the POINT of this??? also why does she not resemble Daisy Buchanan like she’s supposed to??? and another thing, wasn’t Steve supposed to have never been exposed to The Horrors before s1?).

I guess dream me is a real critic.

#lukapost

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fitzyshusband · 4 months

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So I recently came home to find a lovely package of bsd Volume 11. It single handedly is my favourite volume of all time, asides from around 3/4 to 10 (aka Guild Arc). The obvious reason is, well Fitzgerald: my name isn't Fitzyshusband for nothing.

To nobody's surprise, this is my Fitzgerald Ramble: (I've decided to add images between like each convo so you don't have to feel overwhelmed with so many words)

(Apologies if there's any spelling errors I've not proof read this...yet)

Were going to name the chapters 'Fitzgerald's rising' collectively because that's the name of the Anime episode (I watched the anime first before reading the manga). One thing the anime fails to accomplish is establish a deep personality and completed story for Fitzgerald. I noticed there was so many more little convosations and scenes in the manga that the anime took out that quite frankly should've stayed in. I know budget wise and from a business stand point nobody really wants to see Fitzgerald they're more focused on the major characters such as Atushi, Aktagawa, Ranpo, Fyodor, tw Dazai, Chuuya because those are the fandom Favourite (not mine personally, asides from Fyodor and ranpo, but I can see why they're liked so much).

What is so good about Fitzgerald rising is that it draws in so much from The Great Gatsby that it stimulates my brain and makes me giggle and kick my feet and feel overwhelmingly happy emotions. I haven't really looked into many of the other characters but I do believe that Fitzgerald is one of the only characters that has his book referenced so much in a way that you have to actually be aware of the plot of the Great Gatsby to know.

To briefly summarise the plot of The Great Gatsby, Nick caraway is the cousin of Daisy who is married to Tom Buchanan. Nick moves in beside a truely amazing house and meets the owner Jay Gatsby. Gatsby and Daisy are past lovers, because Gatsby has to go off Daisy ended up being with Tom. Gatsby got all his wealth and everything he has to win Daisy's love and attention, to which he does before she caves in and decides she should stay with Tom. This all ends in Gatsby dying (murder) and showing that nobody asides from Nick actually cared about him.

I'm bad at explaining so I hope that this somewhat helped.

Now, onto the symbolism with Fitzgeralds Rising.

First of all, T.J Eckleburg is a character in the Great Gatsby. His name is on a billboard with two peeping eyes, owning the 'eyes of god'. In BSD, It's Tom Buchanan who owns Eyes of God and Eckleburg is merely the enjineerer behind it. I like that Tom Buchanan is seen as an asshole and horrible man in bsd because he definitely is in The Greag Gatsby. I'm also glad that Tom Buchanan meets his demise to Fitzgerald (Gatsby) because its the opposite of what happens in the actual book.

I'm not the only one to agree that Fitzgerald is the only character deserving of the book that everyone is like hunting for. Not only is his reasoning family orientated but he shows signs of caring for others, despite John Steinback saying he doesn't care. I think there is a darker side to Fitzgerald, this would be in line with the Authors life as a whole; raging alcoholic with a very messy life, often making a fool of himself and evenchually dying alone. I don't believe this should be an outcome for BSD Fitzgerald because I think I wouldn't be able to recover mentally, but I do enjoy the idea that Fitzgerald is alone.

It sounds twisted but from a character development stand point its such a good concept. This man that is Extroverted, known to be very big and have all this wealth; a lovely wife, so many good things that most people don't have, but deep inside he has this lingering loneliness. This is so apparent because although he is surrounded by so many people his more impactful scenes are one on one or one on two. Francis V Atushi when he walked in on Francis Phone call, it has such a big impact because it gave us his motivation to why he does everything he has.

Fitzgerald rising is very much him one on one with other people, we see more of him and he's such a like cool character. His friendship with Louisa ,though people assume is very One sided, is so much more than what people assume. Fitzgerald recognises Louisa's intelligence, he gives her the space she needs to use it and although she obediently does as he says she's so happy doing it. He knows this, otherwise he would value her so much. One detail I overlooked until I read the manga was Louise's ability. It isn't one that enhances her intelligence, its one that slows down time. Her plans are all based on what she knows and her predictions are always right.

Louisa is on par with Ranpo and because she is so overlooked people fail recognise this.

Fitzgeralds rising is the recognition that Fitzgerald holds people he cares for so highly that you could argue he values others more than himself. Everything he does is for other people, something Gatbsy always did, and to simply call him a character that lacks connections with others is a clear mischaracterisation.

Don't get me wrong, this can be countered with Lucy easily. He dropped her almost instantly and even says that Fitzgerald can discard people easily, yet she still got to stay working for Francis until she betrayed him. Only then does he fully discard her. He knows that everyone has a purpose and he helps them find it, he's had Louisa by his side so it's no doubt that she's been able to research all this and tell Francis what people are good for and he does exactly that.

He gives people purpose.

Fitzgerald rising makes me yearn for more Fitzgerald content, which we do get in the form of Francis vs Nathaniel and Atushi seeking help from Fitzgerald, sure he guild trips Atushi into agreeing to get Yosano to heal Margaret because she's the only person to stop Nathaniel. Yet, his actions comes from a place of protection.

To make me love Fitzgerald and BSD even more would be adding Nick Carraway and Earnest Hemingway because quite frankly I would explode and die and cry and giggle and sob and go absolutely crazy. There's so much to explore with these two potential characters, Nick being someone who admires Francis and can be hired into the new guild and Earnest being a counter to Francis, the potential is endless.

I would expect that if they chose to add Nick, then Fitzgerald would be meeting his end: going off The Great Gatsby.

If they chose to add Hemingway, then I would expect that he would either be just another person wanting him dead. He would probably be teaming up with John Steinbeck to expose Francis. This would introduce us to a darker side of Francis, a side that has only ever been mentioned and not actually seen.

There's so much more I could talk about, like the wedding ring and the possible theory that Zelda has died or divorced Francis and how that links into Author Fitzgerald. The relationship between Fitzgerald and Hemingway that has hints of homosexual feelings: Who would be the Daisy equivalent because Tom Buchanan is a Canon character to BSD, T.J Eckleburgs role beyond just being someone Fitzgerald saved.

However, I have a tenancy to ramble so much nobody can even recognise or remember what I started of saying in the first place. Therefore, I will leave it here.

My final words: Fitzgerald needs more recognition and to be seen beyond funny money man.

#bsd guild #bsd #bsd fitzgerald #bsd francis #the guild bsd #bsd rant #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd louisa may alcott #bsd eckleburg

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vessels-for-good-intent · 9 months

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Not A Vessel For Your Good Intent

Daisy speaks up that hot, hot August 28th. She refuses to let Jay ruin himself over her anymore, even if it means giving him up.

Title from The Crane Wives Tongues & Teeth

Relationships: Daisy Buchanan/Jay Gatsby, Daisy Buchanan/Tom Buchanan, Nick Carraway & Jay Gatsby, Daisy Buchanan & Jordan Baker

Characters: Daisy Buchanan, Jay Gatsby, Tom Buchanan, Nick Carraway, Jordan Baker, Pamela Buchanan

Tags: Angst, POV First Person, Daisy has a fucking backbone, Writing Fitzgerald’s Women Better, the hotel scene, jay gatsby knows about cars, Unrequited Love, Mixed Jay Gatsby, it’s vaguely alluded to, barely applicable here but it does come up later, Gay Nick Carraway, POV Daisy Buchanan, vaguely aro daisy?, i don’t really like daisy but she needs to be heard, tongues and teeth is about her & jay’s relationship actually, Hurt No Comfort, (yet), Jay Gatsby is a Car Guy, yes i finally have a use for my knowledge

It was the hottest day I could remember, and we were having a party. A party, in heat like this! But Jay and Nick both agreed to come even in the immense heat.

Tom’s woman had called, and I watched Jay with cautious eyes. His hair, already a dark copper, had turned darker with perspiration, eyes drawing up in anger as he heard the increasingly loud conversation. Nick only swiped at his neck, the skin damp with sweat, his eyes flicking nervously between us.

“Very well, then. I won’t sell you the car at all…. I’m under no obligations at to you at all… and as for your bothering me about it at lunch time, I won’t stand that at all!” Tom spoke.

“Holding down the receiver,” I said, shaking my head.

“No, he’s not,” Nick said, trying to reassure me. “It’s a bona-fide deal. I happen to know about it.”

Tom flung open the door, offering his hand out for Jay to shake. “Mr. Gatsby! I’m glad to see you, sir… Nick.” The dislike was well-hidden, but I could notice it.

Wanting to end the growing tension, I urged him to make us a cold drink. As he left the room, I flew to him, pulling his face down to mine. “You know I love you,” I murmured, kissing him.

“You forget there’s a lady present,” Jordan interjected. I stared balefully at her.

“You kiss Nick too,” I said. At this, Nick blushed slightly.

“What a low, vulgar girl!” she said.

“I don’t care!” I cried, instinctively moving to clog the fireplace. Jordan grabbed my arm.

“It’s too hot for that, Daisy,” she said, leading me back to the couch. My daughter entered the room.

“Hello Pammy,” I said kindly. I always felt guilty for leaving her with a nurse, but it was demanded of high society ladies. The nurse let her go, and she ran to clutch at my dress.

“Pammy,” I murmured to her.

“Where’s Daddy?” she asked.

“He’s getting drinks for cousin Nick and Mr. Gatsby. Say how-de-do, Pammy.”

“Hello,” Pammy said, soft.

She peaked out from behind my skirts, and Jay looked surprised. Had he not known I had a daughter?

Jay and Nick both knelt slightly, reaching to take her hand in turn. “It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Buchanan,” his voice hiding the shock on his face.

“I have business to get to with Nick and Mr. Gatsby, Pammy, alright? I’ll see you tonight. I love you, sweet thing,” I say, and she reluctantly turns back to her nurse. Tom enters after she leaves, carrying four gin rickeys chock-full of ice.

“They certainly look cool,” Jay says, his fingers wiping away the condensate from his glass. We grab our drinks then, taking long swallows of the cool liquid.

“I read somewhere that the sun’s getting hotter every year,” said Tom, trying to make conversation. “It seems that the earth’s going to fall into the sun—or wait a minute—it’s the opposite—the sun’s getting colder every year.” He paused for a minute, then continued, “Come outside,” he said, gesturing towards Jay. “I’d like you to have a look at this place.”

Nick and Jay followed him out to the veranda, and Jordan and I joined them. Jay pointed to his house. “I’m right across from you.”

“So you are,” he agreed.

We had luncheon in the dining room, curtains closed against the heat, though it only served to make the room hotter, I thought. The room was tense, and we drank and ate in nervous gaiety.

I had a horrid thought. “What’ll we do with ourselves this afternoon?” I cried, “and the day after that, and the next thirty years?”

“Don’t be morbid,” Jordan chastised me. “Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.”

“It’s so hot,” I groaned, close to crying, “and everything is getting confused. Let’s all go to town!” They didn’t pay attention then, Jay wrapped up in a conversation with Tom about his conversion of our garage into a horse stable.

“Who wants to go to town?” I asked. Jay’s eyes flicked towards me, and even in his perspired state, he looked like a cool breath of air. “You look so cool,” I spoke, meeting his eyes for a single second, the thought once more flashing through my brain.

Jay was going to ruin himself in pursuit of me, and I didn’t care. He had never been meant to be forever for me, even after Tom and I’s unhappy marriage.

“Alright,” Tom broke in. “We can go to town.” I could tell he had seen something in the flick of my eyes to Jay, but didn’t know what.

“Are we just going to go?” I asked. “Just like that? Aren’t we going to let anyone smoke a cigarette?”

“Everybody smoked all through lunch,” Tom objected.

“Oh, have it your own way,” I said. “Come on, Jordan,” I said, leading her upstairs.

“What’s going on, Daisy?” she asked.

“He’s ruining himself in pursuit of me, and I don’t even love him!” I cried. “He’ll break if I leave him, and yet it’s the only way to keep him alive.”

“Tom,” she said. One short syllable that expressed everything I had missed. “He saw that you appeared to love him. That’s why he gave in so quickly.”

“I have to give him up, Jordan. I’m ruining him, and he chose that. He doesn’t realize it, but he won’t be anything without me. He’s based his entire life around me—I’m what makes him Jay Gatsby. He built his personality around me.” If only she knew how true that statement was.

She turned away. “You’d better see if Tom wants to take something to drink,” not acknowledging anything I just said. I nod, promising myself I’ll think over it on the way to town.

Calling out the window, I shout, “Shall we take anything to drink?”

Tom’s mouth moves, and he heads inside, Nick and Jay standing close together. We head downstairs, following Tom out.

“Shall we all go in my car?” Jay suggested, feeling the seat. “I should have left the car in the shade.”

“Is it standard shift?” Tom demanded.

“Yes.”

“Well, you take my coupé and let me drive your car to town,” he said. Jay’s face flashed with distaste.

“I don’t think there’s much gas,” he said.

“Plenty of gas. And if it runs out, we can stop at a drug store. You can buy anything a drugstore nowadays,” he said, and my heart sank. He knew. Or well, he thought he knew. My revelation had hit me in the face, and the shock showed on my countenance.

“Come on, Daisy,” said Tom, pressing his hand into the small of my back, his hand presenting Jay’s car. “I’ll take you in the circus wagon.”

I moved from where his hand laid. “Take Nick and Jordan. We’ll follow you in the coupé,” I said. Tom growled but consented, and Nick and Jordan followed him into the yellow car.

We clambered into the blue coupé, the familiar car seeming almost foreign with Jay in the driver’s seat. I watched Tom, Nick, and Jordan do the same, and Tom sped off, testing out each gear, Jay muttering over the waste of gas.

“He’s going to buy gas for you, you know,” I said.

“I guess,” he said, leaning over and kissing me once on the lips. I forced myself not to recoil, thoughts of his ruin via his pursuit of me still playing in my mind.

“We should go,” I said, and he laughed as he turned the car on. The car rumbled quietly as oil began pumping through the engine, and then quieted again.

“I wait until the engine quiets down after I start it,” he said, “and that’s because it helps the car last longer, if you can get the car to lubricate itself instead just taking off dry.” His words had no meaning to me, but I nodded.

“I don’t think Tom knew that,” I said. He had never waited the thirty seconds after starting the car, he just threw the car into drive and went.

“That would explain why he wants to sell this car, it’s a pile of crap now. How long have you had it?” he asked, pressing his foot to the gas and throwing the car towards the city.

“I think it was a wedding present from Tom’s parents,” I said, and he squirmed uncomfortably in the driver’s seat.

“I wish—well, you know what I wish, Daisy. You’ll tell Tom you don’t love him soon, right?”

“I—I don’t know, Jay.” The I’m going to ruin your life if we continue this pressed at my lips, but I held it back. I expected him to protest, but he apparently realized it was the best he would get.

We rode in tense silence for a few minutes before entering the ash heaps, seeing Tom making harsh gestures at the small man, who I guessed was Wilson. It was, after all, Wilson’s Garage.

“What’s he all mad about?” Jay asked.

“I’ve no clue,” I said. “Perhaps his mistress.”

His face hardened as we slowed to wait for them. “I don’t like how he treats you, Daisy. Like a play toy, abandoning you when he gets bored.”

As the coupé advanced towards Tom and the man I assumed to be Wilson, we heard the maybe-Wilson man say, “I need the money. We’re moving West soon. My wife has wanted to go west for 10 years, you know.”

“Mr. Buchanan!” Jay called.

“Gatsby,” he said. “Go on, you two. We’ll follow.”

We sped off to the highway, Jay testing each gear and the speed of the car. Tom soon followed, accelerating faster than Jay could go. Jay tried keeping up, but the engine started making angry noises, so he slowed down. Thankfully, by then Tom had glanced behind him, slowing. He glanced back every few seconds, as if afraid that he would lose me forever is he didn’t check where I was every few seconds.

When we arrived, Nick looked almost ready to fall asleep. The heat had tired us all, especially in the cars that were 20 degrees warmer than the actual temperature. I suggested we hire five bathrooms to take cold baths, but it was shot down in favor of ‘a place to have a mint julep.’ I almost felt bad for the clerk at the front desk with all of us talking over each other.

The room was stifling hot, and all five of us being there likely did not help. We opened the windows, which only blew slightly cooler air into the room. It was breathtakingly humid, and I went to fix my hair. Jordan whispered it was a swell suite, and we laughed.

“Open another window,” I said.

“There aren’t anymore,” Nick said.

“Well, we’d better telephone for an axe.”

“The thing to do is to forget about the heat,” Tom said, showing that he too was affected by the heat. “You make it ten times worse by crabbing about it.” He unrolled the bottle of whiskey and put it on the table.

“Let her alone, old sport,” Jay said. “You’re the one who wanted to come to town.” In a sentence, Jay had caused Nick to stutter, likely not wanting to point out that I had first suggested it. But in the end, no one mentioned it, because the telephone book slipped from its nail and crashed to the floor.

“I’ll pick it up,” Nick offered.

“I’ve got it,” Jay said, examining the string that held it to the nail. He tossed it on a chair. “String’s broken.”

“That’s a great expression of yours, isn’t it?” Tom remarked, and we all looked at him strangely.

“What is?” Jay asked.

“All this ‘old sport’ business. Where’d you pick that up?”

“Now see here, Tom,” I said, turning from the mirror. “If you’re going to make personal remarks I won’t stay here a minute. Call up and order some ice for the mint julep.”

As Tom picked up the receiver, we heard the first pompous chords of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March from the ballroom below us.

“Imagine marrying anyone in this heat!” Jordan cried.

“Still—I was married in the middle of June. Louisville, in June! Somebody fainted. Who was it who fainted, Tom?” I asked.

“Biloxi,” he answered.

“A man named Biloxi. ‘Blocks’ Biloxi, and he made boxes—that’s a fact—and he was from Biloxi, Tennessee,” I said.

“They carried him into my house,” added Jordan, “because we lived just two doors from the church. And he stayed three weeks, until Daddy told him he had to leave. The day after he left Daddy died.” She paused. “There wasn’t any connection.”

“I used to know a Bill Biloxi from Memphis,” Nick stated.

“That was his cousin. I knew his whole family history before he left. He gave me an aluminum putter I still use today.”

The march had ended, and cheers floated through the open window. The dancing began in a burst of jazz. “We’re getting old,” I said. “If we were young we’d rise and dance.”

“Remember Biloxi,” Jordan warned. “Where’d you know him, Tom?”

“Biloxi?” he asked, thinking. “I didn’t know him. He was a friend of Daisy’s.”

“He was not. I’d never seen him before. He came down in the private car, remember?”

“Well, he said he knew you. He said he was raised in Louisville. Asa Bird brought him around at the last minute and asked if we had room for him,” Jordan said, smiling. “He was probably bumming his way home. He told me he was president of your class at Yale.

Tom and Nick looked at each other. “Biloxi?” Nick asked.

“First place, we didn’t have any president—“ Tom said, eying Jay’s foot, which was tapping restlessly.

“By the way, Mr. Gatsby, I understand you’re an Oxford man.”

“Not exactly,” Jay replied.

“Oh, yes, I understand you went to Oxford.”

“Yes—I went there,” Jay paused. Jordan, Nick, and I start awkwardly, looking between the two men.

Tom spoke again, his voice disbelieving. “You must have gone there about the time Biloxi went to New Haven.”

A waiter knocked on the door, and we all jumped. “Come in!” I called. The waiter did so, leaving the block of ice and mint leaves on the table.

“Thank you,” the man muttered, closing the door.

“I told you I went there—to Oxford,” said Jay.

“I heard you, but I’d like to know when,” demanded Tom.

“It was in nineteen-nineteen. I only stayed five months. That’s why I can’t really call myself an Oxford man.” He paused, and Tom glanced at us to see if we mirrored his disbelief. We didn’t, and Jay continued, “It was an opportunity they gave some to some of the officers after the armistice. We could go to any of the universities in England or France.”

Nick’s hand jerked, as though he wanted to reassure Jay with a hand on his shoulder. Hoping to diffuse the tensions, I spoke, “Open the whiskey, Tom. I’ll make you a mint julep. Then you won’t seem so stupid to yourself… Look at the mint!”

“Wait a minute,” demanded Tom. “I want to ask Mr. Gatsby one more question.”

“Go ahead,” said Jay, smiling.

“What kind of a row are you trying to cause in my house anyhow?”

“He isn’t causing a row,” I interjected. “You’re causing a row, Tom, please have a little self-control.”

“Self-control!” Tom roared. “I suppose the latest thing is to sit back and let Mr. Nobody from Nowhere make love to your wife! Well, if that’s the idea you can count me out… Nowadays people begin by sneering at family life and family institutions, and next they’ll throw everything overboard and have intermarriage between black and white.”

“We’re all white here,” muttered Jordan, and I saw Jay’s cheeks flush.

“I know I’m not very popular,” Tom said. I don’t give give big parties. I suppose you’ve got to make your house into a pigsty in order to have any friends—in the modern world.”

Nick looked annoyed at Tom’s words, and I think everyone felt the same. It was too hot to not be annoyed.

“I’ve got something to tell you, old sport—“ Jay began. I guessed at his intentions, and raised my hand to silence him.

“Not now, Jay,” I said. “Let’s all go home anyways, it’s hotter than it was back home.”

“That’s a good idea,” Nick said. “Come on, Tom. Nobody wants a drink.”

“I want to know what Mr. Gatsby has to tell me,” Tom said, and my heart sank. I would have to tell Jay that I didn’t love him, that he would come to ruin if this continued, that his pursuit of me was stripping him of all it meant to be Jay Gatsby.

“Your wife doesn’t love you,” said Jay. “She’s never loved you. She loves me,” he said. I stood up, meaning to object to his claim, but Jay waved me back down.

“Listen to me, Jay!” I said, the exact same time that Tom said something.

“You must be crazy!” Tom cried.

Jay sprang to his feet then. “She never loved you, do you hear?” and well, that was true. I had married Tom out of obligation to my parents, not out of love.

Continuing, Jay said, “She only married you because I was poor and she was tired of waiting for me. It was a terrible mistake, but in her heart she never loved anyone except me!” His voice was desperate, waiting for me to confirm his words.

Nick and Jordan stood, pleading their excuses, but Tom and Jay both insisted they stay. The two of them wanted all of us to see who would win the fight over me.

At that point, I stood up. Tom blinked at me.

“Daisy, what are you doing?” Jay asked.

“Telling the truth of the matter, as I see it,” I said. They waited for me to go on.

I took a deep breath, suddenly nervous. Jordan and Nick watched me curiously. I addressed Tom first.

“Jay is right. Not about all of it, but parts of it. I don’t love you, but I don’t love him. I married you because my parents—because I felt I owed that much to my parents—they deserved to see me married. I’m sorry, Tom.” Jordan nodded at me. She had found me after I had gotten drunk the night before our wedding. I watched Tom’s face for a reaction. His face hardened, but he nodded stiffly.

“And Jay,” I said, pausing to keep my sobs in my throat. I didn’t want to break him, but he needed to hear this.

“Jay, if you keep pursuing me, you will ruin yourself. You’re already stripping yourself of everything that makes you Jay Gatsby.” Or James Gatz, I thought. “You are ruining yourself in pursuit of a woman who does not love you. I know this hurts you to hear, but I can’t let you choose to ruin yourself. Your whole personality is modeled after what you think I am. I’m not the same girl you knew in Louisville, Jay.” His head jerked up at his name, though his face was shiny with sweat and tears. He had curled into himself upon the couch.

“Daisy—“ he gasped out. I stood up.

“I’m leaving,” Tom said. “Daisy, Jordan, Nick?” he asked. Though his face was stricken, he was much more composed than Jay.

“I’m staying. Leave Gatsby’s car, please,” Nick said. “I’ll get him home.”

“Of course, Nick.”

“I’ll go home,” I said. “I really am sorry, Tom.”

“It’s alright, Daisy. We’ll talk when we’re back at home. Jordan?” he asked.

“I’ll come with you two,” she agreed.

“Goodbye,” Nick said politely, though his voice was cold in a strong contrast to the heat.

The three of us walked from the room, watching Nick slowly approach Jay.

#the great gatsby #nick carraway #jay gatsby #f scott fitzgerald #vessels for good intent #daisy buchanan #tom buchanan #my writing

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uflucia · 2 years

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hello! a quick word of warning before i unravel the mess below: i haven't roleplayed, or well, written anything in a creative capacity in a while, so please bear with me as i try and navigate my way around. that being said, i'm still really excited and eager to write with you all, so here are some bullets on lucia von eleyver below the cut! also leaving a link here to her about page, so feel free to check that out for a more detailed insight into my muse!

backstory:

born as the younger twin to the noble house of eleyver, it seemed like she was forever destined to be her brother's shadow. baron von eleyver was delighted to welcome his son & heir into the world, but with regards to his daughter... think, quote daisy buchanan, 'and i hope she'll be a fool - that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.'

her brother was the golden boy in every sense of the word - gifted and good, lucien was beloved by all he came across. long story short, he outshone lucia in every single aspect of their lives and continued to do so until (spoiler alert) his death.

this gap between them only grew more apparent as they began to receive training aged seven - in both magic and warfare. eleyver is a city that prides itself on its light magic users rivaled only by those in ganggyn, and naturally, the barons of the city have been light magic users too.

lucia's progress with light magic was virtually non-existent, and her father eventually decided that... well, if lessons with the most expensive tutors weren't helping, then maybe she needed a more practical... approach to learning.

tw: child abuse. this new form of 'training' essentially involved locking lucia up in a dark cellar in the heart of the monastery, caning her, then leaving her alone to find a way to heal herself.

honestly?? you might ask how her mother let this happen. baroness von eleyver was a kind-hearted, weak-willed woman with a fragile disposition - she had her own nightmares to fight; stuck in a loveless marriage, and suffering from post-partum depression. lucia would always wonder if her mother was genuinely oblivious to her pain and suffering, or whether she knowingly turned a blind eye.

her father's form of 'training' continued for a few years until one fateful day, lucia lashed out at her father unknowingly with weak, dark magic. from that point onwards, all form of training concerning magic stopped - instead, she was groomed to make an advantageous match, and assist her parents in forming diplomatic ties between leaders across deyuis.

everything seems to be smooth sailing until the war against etlia breaks out; she's promised to another gleerium noble for marriage, and her brother is thriving as a top student at lotus academy whilst preparing to step into his role as the next heir in line to inherit the title as baron von eleyver.

lucien leaves for war, adamant that it is his duty to carry out the will of gleil & gleeirum, confident in his belief that he will bring glory, and return home. he does return home at the end of the war - in a casket.

a year after her brother's death, and lucia's tentative engagement has now been set in stone. her mother is unreachable in her grief over the loss of her son, and her father is contemptuous in his disappointment and outrage that his pride & joy was killed by rebel etlian forces. lucia is... lost, and desperately lonely.

possible plot prompts:

someone she met as a child during their visit to eleyver, and noticed that she was injured. the encounter was memorable to her because she'd never had her injuries tended to before, and to have such warm attention & care from a stranger, no less, when she couldn't expect it from her family was... odd, but not unpleasant. they meet again many years later, and in a way, some things haven't changed.

someone who was involved with her late brother, lucien. maybe someone who used to be his closest friend/advisor/lover? lucia finds herself seeking them out frequently - she's not sure whether it's because they're the only person who will willingly discuss lucien with her, or whether it's something else, but either way, she finds herself depending on this newfound friendship more than is probably healthy.

someone she meets on a diplomatic mission to another country with her parents. during discussions, it's evident that they don't exactly see eye to eye - cue rivalry, heated debates behind glasses of champagne, petty acts of revenge like stepping on each others' shoes during a dance, etc.

to be added!

#uf:intro

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valentinetalkesmovies12 · 1 year

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The Great Gatsby

The Great Gatsby (2013) is a movie adaptation of the 1925 novel ‘The Great Gatsby’ by F. Scott Fitzgerald. It stars Leonardo DiCaprio, Tobey Maguire, Carey Mulligan, Joel Edgerton, and Elizabeth Debicki. The 2013 adaptation of ‘The Great Gatsby’ was the most book accurate, only a few minor details from the novel were omitted but implied, such as the affair between the characters Nick Carraway and Jordan Baker. The movie is narrated in past tense by Nick Carraway (Tobey Maguire), in the year 1929 to his psychiatrist, the events which are being described occurred 7 years earlier during the summer of 1922 in New York. The movie is set during the roaring 20s after the events of World War 1 but before the wall street crash of 1929 which brought about the great depression. During this time there was a nationwide ban on selling and importing alcohol but wasn’t illegal to consume it. This gave rise to speakeasies which were hidden bars and bootleggers, who were people that sold alcohol illegally. Jay Gatsby was known to own many drugstores, this is how he earned his fortunes, while having legitimate business places he was also selling alcohol illegally through these drugstores. By doing so he participated in bootlegging.

The Great Gatsby is set from the perspective of Nick Carraway, he moved to New York to work on Wall Street after abandoning his dream of writing. He moves into a small groundkeeper's house in the North Shore village of West Egg next to a massive magnificent mansion owned by Gatsby (Leonardo DiCaprio). Directly across the bay at East Egg stood the mansion owned by Tom Buchanan (Joel Edgerton), who he went to school at Yale with and was married to Nick’s cousin Daisy Buchanan (Carey Mulligan). In the evening after visiting his cousin Nick was given an invitation to one of Gatsby’s parties that weekend, there he was formally introduced to his neighbor Gatsby. Nick slowly became more acquainted with Gatsby after that encounter, and because of this, he became a part of a greater plan which was to create an encounter between Gatsby and Daisy. Gatsby and Daisy have previously been in a relationship while she attended Oxford University and before he left for the war.

The movie follows Nick’s experiences in New York, Gatsby and Daisy’s affair as well as the affair between Tom and his mistress Myrtle(Isla Fisher). The movie showed the flashy and flamboyant lifestyle of the people during the 1920s through the extravagant parties at Gatsby’s mansion every weekend. The 1920s brought the rise of Jazz music,Jay Z, who was the executive music producer for this movie, took aspects of jazz and incorporated it into the movie soundtrack, he brought an upbeat and modern music twist to the 1920s era of music. Lana Del Rey also played a big part in the music aspect of this movie, her hit song “Young and Beautiful” became one of the title songs of this film because of the wispy romantic feel of the song which resembled the romance between Gatsby and Daisy.

This movie has become one of my favourites because of the beautiful cinematography, and colourful scenes. The movie was very eye-catching and the events seemed so much more exciting than in the novel which was a bit boring when it came to the description of the parties and the conflicts.

#Spotify #the great gatsby #leonardo dicaprio #tobey maguire #jay gatsby #nick carraway #f scott fitzgerald #favourite movies #aesthetic #writers #music #movie review #moviegifs

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reefdabeef94-blog · 9 months

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Anatomy of a Scene

Black Klansman is a piece I have watched once prior to this assignment. It is also the only film I could find on the list, as such it is the comedy I choose. The film builds from the main character, Ron Stallworth. Ron is the first African American in the Colorado Springs Police Department, and as such sets out on a uniquely dangerous mission: infiltrate the Ku Klux Klan. Ron and his Jewish partner, Flip Zimmerman, eventually make their way into the inner circle. Eventually the two come into contact with the Grand Wizard of the KKK, David Duke, and Ron develops a relationship over the phone with Duke as a “true white American”. Eventually Ron is assigned as a bodyguard for Duke, forcing Ron to forge a new voice and identity, as he used his real name when talking to the Grandwizard. Eventually the Klan’s plan is uncovered to bomb a local black activist, one whomst Ron has been seeing the duration of the film in a B-plot. As such Ron races to her house and tries to stop the bomb from detonating, and tackles the Klan member who planted it, who is a white woman. During the arrest Ron is misinterpreted as the belligerent, and two idle police officers start assaulting and arresting Ron. Eventually the other Klan members roll up to the site of the events and the bomb goes off, but it is in a spot that they did not expect, killing the Klan members and justifying Ron’s accusations.

The pacing of the film was slow and methodical, developing the romance/secret identity B-plot alongside the undercover police work A-plot . With that in mind, the gravity of the B-plot was limited by the inability of the characters to express their true conflicts, as Ron was unable to disclose his true identity. This is hinted at during the introduction shot for Ron’s romantic interest, as they both meet in a turbulent and energetic crowd, along with dimmed lighting forcing the conversation to carry the scene. This also physically inhibits the observation of the two, possibly further ingraining the idea of doubt and unknowing.

The Great Gatsby, a graphical interpretation of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel, depicts a story of the old and new lifestyles clashing in a tragedy of the roaring (19)20’s. The film pits a midwest native, Nick Carraway, alongside a rich and famous individual known as Jay Gatsby as his neighbor. Together the two attempt to forge a romantic relationship between Nick’s cousin Daisy Buchanan and Gatsby. Daisy is married to Tom and the plot falls into place with various scenes and mechanisms of plot development eventually developing until the murder of Gatsby takes place, right at the peak of character interest and development.

The scene of interest to me is the introductory scene to Jay Gatsby, cast by Leonardo Dicaprio. The scene is built up during the previous ten minutes, as Nick is drunkenly searching Gatsby’s party, until eventually a man speaks to Nick, carrying the conversation until the point of Gatsby arises, upon which the faceless man speaking to Nick introduces himself as Jay Gatsby. As the scene may take the role of an introduction to a famous actor, and as such the general audience may find value in that, the anticipation and theatrical relevance of Gatsby is the single driving motion in the film. The funding and motives for the driving of the plot all lies within Gatsby, and as such this introduction, with the climax of of George Gershwin’s fourteen minute masterpiece “Rhapsody in Blue” hymning in the background, serves as the single most impactful introduction in the entirety of the film.

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teenageread · 1 year

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Review: The Great Gatsby

Synopsis:

The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s third book, stands as the supreme achievement of his career. First published in 1925, this quintessential novel of the Jazz Age has been acclaimed by generations of readers. The story of the mysteriously wealthy Jay Gatsby and his love for the beautiful Daisy Buchanan, of lavish parties on Long Island at a time when The New York Times noted “gin was the national drink and sex the national obsession,” it is an exquisitely crafted tale of America in the 1920s.

Plot:

Jay Gatsby was known for hosting extraordinary parties, with many people showing up, but rarely inviting anyone. Nick Carraway, Gatsby’s neighbor, is a new resident of the West Egg district of Long Island, and where he lacks the cash that his neighbor has, he makes up for it in education and social connections, like his close relationship with his cousin Daisy and her husband Tom. When Gatsby personally invites Nick to one of his Saturday parties, he is one of the few people who meet Gatsby in person and the even fewer who get invited back to Gatsby’s mansion. Lady friend Jordan tells Nick that Gatsby’s interest in him is not about him, but Daisy, with whom Gatsby had a romantic connection with in the past. Caught in the middle of a love triangle, Nick watches the great events unfold about love, betrayal, drinking, and jazz, as this 1920s story of parties and longing unfolds, resulting in more than a few lives ruined.

Thoughts:

Scott Fitzgerald wrote this classic story about a rich man loving a girl he could not have. Quite a classic story, Fitzgerald divided the story into nine chapters, all taken from the point of view of Nick, Daisy’s cousin / Gatsby’s neighbor, and later his friend. Thus, Fitzgerald falls into the trap that some classic authors fall into of having an interesting story, taken from the wrong point of view. Throughout the story, I rarely cared about Nick’s troubles, his work, or his relationship, as I was more interested in what was happening around Nick with Daisy and Gatsby. The story would have been remarkably better to be written from the point of view of Daisy or Gatsby, and not an outsider like Fitzgerald decided to do with Nick. The plot is interesting, as Fitzgerald keeps its fast pace, allowing Nick to know more than other characters, and always be there for when the big events unfold. This book has an easy moral/symbolism to see of the American Dream, with the big house, fancy car, and the undying love between a couple - everything Gatsby wanted, and what he could not have without Daisy. The famous green light at the end of Daisy’s dock that Gatsby could see from his house adds to that symbol of the American Dream of the want of wealth and love. Of all the ‘considered classic books’, this one is not the worst, as, with its relatively short and fast-paced plot, only six characters you really need to remember, it is an easy book to get into and like if you are trying to upgrade your literature library.

Read more reviews: Goodreads

Buy the book: Amazon

#The Great Gatsby #F Scott Fitzgerald #book review

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henry-and-the-seven-lords · 3 years

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Hello!

May I suggest the MC giving Satan one of their favorite books because they think he'll enjoy it, but Satan gets particularly blushy reading a very suggestive scene of it, thinking about the MC reading it and asking himself if they had any intention behind giving him a book with those scenes

Doesn't even need to be full on nsfw, I already like thinking about him getting all blushy about it! lol

Would be fun with other characters too, but since Satan's so big on reading I thought of him!

Thank you very much, i love your work:)<3

Awww! First my brain went to ice planet Barbarians because that is all booktok is showing me, THEN I thought about it. What if MC gave him like Pride and Prejudice or a Midsummer Night's Dream or Romeo and Juliet or The Great Gatsby. (Can you tell I am overwhelmed by the absolute cuteness of this idea and am struggling to choose 1 book?)

This fic is filled with spoilers. I tried not to be too detailed, but some I couldn't get around. I don't think this turned out exactly how you wanted it... but I hope you still enjoy it.

Maybe I could write more things like this. Satan's book reviews... that might be cool. I enjoyed trying to think like he would as he "read" the book.

I am going to stop rambling now... enjoy!

Spoilers for basically the whole book of The Great Gatsby

Brothers Masterlist | Dateables Masterlist

Satan's Green Light

Satan x MC

He stared at the book sitting in his lap for quite a while before picking it up.

"The Great Gatsby." The eyes on the front cover stare blankly at Satan as he flips it over in his hands to scan the back.

"MC continually talks about how this is their favorite book." He begins to flick through the pages as he flips in back to the front.

"I guess I should start reading. MC did say they wanted to talk about it over dinner tonight." Finally Satan opens the cover and begins to read.

It doesn't take long for Satan to get to Daisy Buchanan's introduction. He is amused by Nick's description of his cousin, beautiful but fickle.

"I seem to know someone like that as well."

He continues and is floored by the relationship of Daisy and Tom.

"MC had described this as a tragic love story, yet these two are hardly in love with each other."

His suspensions are confirmed when Tom introduces Nick to his mistress leaving a sour taste in Satan's mouth about Mr. Buchanan.

As he goes through the book, Nick finally is invited to his neighbor's party. As Nick wonders about Gatsby's life, Satan wonders about MC's choice in love stories.

"I guess human literature has changed since I last read it." He sighs and continues.

Finally some romance seems to blossom as Jordan and Nick now begin to see each other through the summer. But just as quickly as that began, Gatsby whisked Nick away to a private lunch where he kept insisting that he was a good person.

"Odd, I don't see why such a wealthy man needs to plead with a poor one unless there is something Nick has that he wants."

And that when it finally clicked in Satan's brain. Jay Gatsby was after Daisy Buchanan.

"Oh, I see... Maybe this is much more interesting than I thought."

He reads about Gatsby filling Nick's house with flowers to impress Daisy and a chuckle bubbles out of his throat.

"I can understand where you are coming from Gatsby. I would do the same just to make MC smile." A small smile of his own crossed his face and he pictured it. MC giggling and smiling ear to ear surrounded by beautiful flowers, but they outshine them all.

After the flowers, Gatsby takes Daisy to his house and shows her all the enormous rooms. Eventually the pair begin dancing and forget of Nick's existence so he leaves.

This causes Satan to think back to the first ball MC went to in the Devildom. MC danced with everyone and saved him for last. They danced for the rest of the night as if they were the only two in the ballroom. He likes to think MC saved him for last because they knew it would be anguish to be pulled away from each other.

Satan continues to read as Daisy and Tom show up to Gatsby's lavish party. Daisy and Gatsby eventually run off together as Tom is distracted by Nick and Jordan.

"I will need to remember that for the next ball... Maybe Asmo would help distract Lucifer while me and MC run off into the night."

Satan smiles, a late night rendezvous with MC doesn't sound to bad. In the book, Gatsby uses this time to plea with Daisy to marry him.

"Daisy seemed to only marry Tom out of necessity, so why not leave him."

Satan then begins to read faster as the intensity of each scene increases. Gatsby and Daisy are driving into town as Tom, Jordan and Nick trail behind in Gatsby's car. Eventually the party gets to the hotel and a verbal fight breaks out in the hotel room. Gatsby insists on Daisy never loving Tom, but Daisy says that it isn't true.

Satan can understand the betrayal that Gatsby feels, but he can also understand how Daisy slowly fell in love with Tom over time. Just like how he slowly fell for the human who loved this story so much.

Then Satan reads about Gatsby exploding with rage stating Daisy is lying.

"I guess we both have that problem, Gatsby. We always seem to hurt the ones we love the most by getting angry."

He reads further as everyone drives home. Gatsby and Daisy now in Gatsby's car and Tom, Jordan, and Nick in the other.

Satan is shocked when the group of three stumble upon a murder scene only to find Tom's mistress dead. He is intrigued when Tom tells her husband it was Gatsby who killed her.

"Wow Tom, very sneaky, but I couldn't say I wouldn't do the same if someone was threatening my marriage."

The story continues and Satan finds out that the one driving was in fact, not Gatsby, but Daisy. Eventually Gatsby is waiting for a call from Daisy so they can run away together. A call comes in and Gatsby is shot by the mistress' husband.

"Oh no. Well at least he died happy."

Satan then reads that Nick was the caller and the story tragically ends with only a few people going to his funeral, and sadly Daisy was not in attendance.

Some small tears well up in his eyes as Gatsby's few friends and family talk about him.

"He had one dream, and he couldn't even achieve that. I hope that I don't end up the same way with MC. Alone and forgotten because I scared them away." He shudders at the thought before setting the book down and looking at the clock.

"It's almost dinner. I guess I should go find MC and tell them my thoughts." Satan stands as the eyes on the cover watch him walk out of the library.

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earlgreydream · 3 years

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the garden.

| 1940s!bucky barnes x reader | fluff | mild angst |

You walked home from work, seeing your new neighbor, Bucky Barnes, leaning against the wall of his house. His arrogant smirk appeared as you walked up the path to your door, scrunching your nose at the sight of him.

James Buchanan Barnes was irritating. The first day he’d moved in, he and his friends were loud until the early hours of the morning, drunkenly shouting along with his record player. Then, his drunk friends had walked through your garden, trampling half of your flowers and some vegetables. And he was always outside with his stupid smirk, thinking his pretty face was enough to win you over.

Bucky was also gorgeous, and the worst part was, he knew it. You’d seen him in town flirting with girls in the market, and everywhere he went. Even your friends all fought for his attention. When they’d come over, you’d sit outside on your porch and they would all wave to him and giggle. He greeted them, chattering with the blushing and giggling girls who fell at his feet. You always rolled your eyes and ignored him, unamused.

Bucky was fascinated by you, the only girl to never fall for his charm. He was charismatic and had every girl at his fingertips that he had ever wanted. He knew that the two of you had gotten off on the wrong foot, and you despised his smoking habit. However, he had made it his goal to win you back over, but you had proven to be stubborn. You were a challenge, and Bucky was determined.

“Hey doll.” He greeted you as you stepped up onto your porch.

“It’s Y/N.” You scowled at him, and he said your name, winking at you.

He checked you out, admiring you in your high waisted pants and button down. You shook your head at him, going inside your house, closing the door. You put your grocery bag down and started to make dinner, when you saw Bucky on your porch. You groaned and opened your window, looking at him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“My stove is out of gas. Could you put me up for dinner?” He gave you a boyish grin, rocking on his heels.

“Why would I do that?”

“To be neighborly,” he suggested.

“C’mon. Because I’ll buy you dinner tomorrow?” Bucky tried again.

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Y/N, the stores are closed, it’s late.”

“Fine. Get in here.” You gave in, shaking your head and shutting the window. He waltzed through the front door, looking too pleased with himself.

“Plus, I brought a gift!” He held up a bottle of rosé.

“So you can get drunk and ruin my flowers again?”

“I apologized for that. Please forgive me.”

“You’re forgiven.” You said, not convincing him or yourself.

“Where’re your glasses?” He asked, and you pulled a cabinet open, stirring your pot of pasta. He pulled down two glasses and filled them.

“Maybe I don’t drink.”

“You do, this is your favorite wine. I’ve seen you drinking it on the porch swing at least twice.” Bucky called you out.

“Oh, so you stalk me?” You accused.

“No, you just sit outside all the time.”

He lifted the glass to his lips, smiling behind the rim. You drank from your own, needing it in order to deal with him. You noticed his dog tags, resting against his skin with the top few buttons of his shirt undone. He caught you staring, but he held eye contact, wanting to make you blush.

“You fight in the war?” You asked, and he shook his head.

“I will. I haven’t been deployed yet. Me and my friend Steve recruit here, but we’ll go with the next team.”

“Where will you go?”

“Germany, maybe. Or Poland.”

You hummed, thinking that Bucky didn’t seem like the military type. You supposed it was his duty though, and he didn’t want to be labeled as a draft dodger. You strained the noodles and mixed them with the sauce, serving him a plate. Bucky thanked you, taking a seat at your tablecloth.

“Hey, get down, Pepper.” You scolded your cat that jumped onto his lap. You apologized and he smiled, petting her head.

“She has no manners. Push her off,”

“She’s fine. I don’t mind.” He smiled, and your cat jumped onto the floor, prowling for dropped food. You ate quietly, ignoring his silver gaze.

“How long have you lived here?” He made conversation.

“Since I left my parents’ house when I was sixteen,”

“That’s awful young. Why?”

You didn’t answer, pouring yourself another glass of wine, and he tilted his glass for more. You emptied the rest of the bottle into his glass, earning a thank-you.

“You don’t have to buy me dinner.”

“I’m absolutely buying you dinner. We’ll go out, to Brooklyn.” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes.

“Is there any way to get out of it?” You asked.

“I’m afraid not.”

“You’re an amazing cook.” Bucky complimented, standing and taking your empty plates before you could.

“Thanks. I got that-”

“No, you cooked. I’ll do the dishes.” He turned on your sink and began to wash everything, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You watched him, biting back a small smile.

“I’ll just be getting out of your hair. Have a goodnight, doll.”

You rolled your eyes, closing the door after him. You picked up your cat and held her, watching him walk across the lawn. He waved at you when he saw you watching through the window, and you shut the curtains.

You came home the next day, tired and annoyed from work. You were in a bad mood, and you just wanted to relax.

“James?” You stopped when you saw him kneeling in your yard.

“Y/N, you’re home.”

“Why the hell are you in my yard?!” You demanded, opening the gate.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. I was replanting your flowers.” He said, kneeling in your garden.

Your eyebrows shot up as you saw the rows of freshly planted daffodils, and you walked over to him slowly.

“Thank you.” You were impressed, and he leaned back on his heels.

“I’m... I can’t take you out like this. Let me change, then we can go for our dinner?” He smiled down at himself, dirt and grass staining his pants.

You nodded, hiding your smile behind your hand, feeling butterflies in your stomach. You shook your head, watching him go toward his house. You went inside and quickly changed your own clothes, into wide white pants and a yellow button down. You fixed your makeup, and went to meet him on the porch. You bit your lip, smiling as you opened the door to find him standing with a bouquet of daisies.

“Bucky...” You couldn’t keep the grin off your face.

“I thought you’d like them. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“It’s working.” You whispered before putting the flowers in a vase. You walked to his car with him, and he opened the door for you, being so charming.

Bucky lived to see your smile. When he finally earned it with the flowers, warmth erupted in his chest and spread through him. He had truly felt bad about your garden and spent the whole afternoon replanting it for you. He drove you into the city, music playing softly on the radio.

“Where are we going?”

“New York pizza, Y/N,” Bucky looked proud of himself.

“That sounds amazing.” You confessed, your stomach growling. You’d missed lunch at work, and you were starving.

“Pizza is my favorite.”

“Mine too!” Bucky announced, and you giggled at that. He turned and smiled at you, his gaze lingering a little longer than it usually did.

You arrived at the pizza place, following Bucky inside. He put his hand on your lower back, and you felt the butterflies again.

“What would you like?”

“Margherita pizza. I’m a classic girl.”

“Perfect.” He ordered for the two of you, leaning against the bartop while you waited.

“We’ll take it to go.”

“We’re not eating here?” You asked, confused, and he shook his head.

“Got a better idea.” Bucky winked at you, taking the pizza box once it was done.

“Can you take this for a second, doll?” He asked, handing it to you as we stood outside. You took it from him, and he leaned into his car, pulling out a blanket before taking the pizza. He nodded for you to follow, and you walked a few blocks down to a park, where he spread the blanket. You were beaming as you sat down beside him, the glow of the street lights and the stars making him look impossibly more attractive.

“You’ve outdone yourself.” You smiled, biting into a slice of pizza. He looked pleased, and the two of you found yourselves talking until the streets were silent. You were sitting in front of him, when he leaned forward, kissing you. You kissed him back, threading your fingers into his dark hair, letting him move you onto his lap. His tongue pushed past your lips, your mouths moving in sync.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Bucky asked, surprising you. You were blushing furiously, and you almost said no, but the feeling his words gave you, made your heart race.

“Yes, James.” You pecked his lips and he grinned into the kiss.

That was how you and Bucky ended up spending most of your time together. He helped you tend to your garden, and you taught him about the plants. You were a botanist with a green thumb, and he was in awe of your tender care of your plants. Every night in the following weeks was spent with the two of you gently rocking on your porch swing, drinking coffee, listening to records, or making out. Either that, or you were listening to him read on the couch or in your bed.

You and Bucky had been together for almost two months, when he came home late from work one evening when it was nearing October. You were waiting on the porch, wrapped in a blanket, watching for his car to roll in.

“James!” You called, and he walked up to you.

“Hey, doll.” He leaned down and kissed you sweetly. You looked up at him, and your gaze meeting with sad eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Worry filled you, and he sat down next to you.

“I’m getting deployed. We leave in two weeks.” He breathed, and your heart fell into pieces.

“I’ll wait for you.” You said finally.

“Y/N, you could be waiting for years, or I may not make it back.”

“Don’t say that!” You cried.

“It’s the truth--”

Tears started rolling down your cheeks, and you shook your head. You climbed onto his lap and clung to him, gripping his shirt and crying into his shoulder. He rubbed your back and held you on the porch.

“I want to get married, before you go.” You said, and he turned your face to look at him.

“Doll, you can’t mean that.”

“No, I do. Marry me. Marry me and promise you’ll come back for me.” You touched his face, and he brushed tears from your cheeks.

“I will marry you, and I will fight every single day to come home to you. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you.”

For months, you and your cat waited on your porch, the cool metal dog tags resting against your sternum. A box of his letters sat on your bedside table, telling you how much he missed you, and loved you, and he wanted to come home to his beautiful wife. All of your friends thought you were mad for marrying a man you’d only dated a few months, the week before he went off to war. A star hung in your window, and every day was spent waiting. Your garden flourished, pumpkins growing as autumn approached. The nights you spent outside began to grow colder, and you waited.

When you saw him, it was like fireworks exploded inside of you. He was tired, he looked wartorn, and he was definitely more muscular. You screamed, tossing your blanket off of you, and running. You jumped over the fence, making him laugh. You threw your arms around him, and he caught you as you jumped into his arms. He held you tightly and spun you around, planting a deep kiss to your lips.

“I love you.”

You were crying as Bucky held you, overwhelmed with joy to see him. You didn’t sleep that night, or the next few.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky fluff #the falcon and the winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #1940s!bucky #40s!bucky #earl grey bucky

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n1kolaiz · 3 years

Text

THE GREAT FITZGERALD

thank u @dazaistabletop for getting me so interested in Fitzgerald's character. ur my favourite Fitz kinnie ok mwah( ˘ ³˘)♥

Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald's novel— The Great Gatsby— was a love story that involved Jay Gatsby, whose mannerisms and characteristics appear to be quite similar to Fitzgerald in the Bungou Stray Dogs adaptation. I just finished reading The Great Gatsby so I thought I'd just make a comparison between the main protagonist of the novel and the main antagonist in BSD's Guild Arc.

Other than the fact that both Jay and Fitzgerald share similar character traits (ambitious, arrogant, and optimistic) the relationships Jay had with the other characters of the novel and the interactions that Fitzgerald had with the other characters of BSD are quite similar, too. I'll focus on three specific associations that both Fitzgerald and Jay experienced in a parallel manner:

Zelda Fitzgerald and Daisy Buchanan

Tom Buchanan

Louisa May Alcott and Nick Carraway

SPOILERS FOR THE GREAT GATSBY!

in case anyone hasn't read it but wants to :)

To avoid confusion, every time I mention Fitzgerald from here on out, I mean the character from BSD; I will specify my references if it comes to the author.

The Great Gatsby had its plot set around the time of the Roaring Twenties: the aftermath of World War I, the peak of socialite culture, and the growth of a prosperous economy and general wealth altogether.

The Roaring Twenties was also a time of luxurious pleasure and liquor, where people indulged themselves and got addicted to hedonism— the pursuit of gratification.

The Great Gatsby was actually written on the basis to prove how corrupt this age was, and the existence of such corruption was vaguely hinted by various factors, one of which included Jay Gatsby's actual source of income: being involved in the affairs of the black market. This proves that illegal activities were not uncommon around that time, as people did anything they could to achieve materialistic gains.

This isn't a history lesson, I promise.

Both Jay Gatsby and Fitzgerald had grown up in poverty and disliked the concept of being anything short of wealthy. They both worked extremely hard to attain financial abundance.

I presume that not everything they did was actually legal when it came to gaining money. As mentioned before, Jay was involved in criminal activities which founded the basis of his wealth, while Fitz once mentioned that in order to own a gun, he had to kill 4 people. He goes on to tell us that he ended up owning that specific gun's manufacturer eventually.

Daisy Buchanan and Zelda Fitzgerald.

The Great Gatsby is actually centered around Jay Gatsby's rather obsessive infatuation with Daisy.

Daisy was a beautiful lady with a incredibly charming nature— she didn't have much trouble with attracting many men back then before she got married to Tom Buchanan, the antagonist of the story and the rival of Jay Gatsby.

"Her voice was full of money," he said suddenly.

That was it. I'd never understood before. It was full of money— that was the inexhaustible chair that rose and fell in it, the jingle of it. the cymbals' song of it... High in a white palace the King's daughter, the golden girl...

Daisy and Jay Gatsby fell in love right before he was sent off to war and a few years before she met Tom. Before they were separated, Jay's dream of gaining wealth and status was primarily flamed by his intention of reaching Daisy's social ranking in order to be worthy of her love.

Initially, because of how passionate he was about his love for her, Jay lied to Daisy about his wealth. It was only after the War did he actually gain the riches he aimed for. By the time he did achieve his monetary goals, Daisy had married Tom already. Consequently, Jay hosted a bunch of lavish parties in order to gain her attention, prove himself and his love for her, and ultimately, win her back.

Jay perceived Daisy as a literal angel, void of any flaw whatsoever. He even tells Nick, the main character, that the fact that numerous men got romantically involved with such a lady just increased her value altogether.

But what gave it an air of breathless intensity was that Daisy lived there— it was as casual a thing to her as his tent out at camp was to him. There was a ripe mystery about it, a hint of bedrooms, of gay and radiant activities taking place through its corridors, and of romances that were not musty and laid away already in lavender but fresh and breathing and redolent of this year's shining motor cars and of dances whose flowers were scarcely withered. It excited him too that many men had already loved Daisy— it increased her value in his eyes. He felt their presence all about the house, pervading the air with the shades and echoes of still vibrant emotions.

As the story unfolded, Daisy's character was torn apart for a proper, more brutally realistic perspective of her true character, revealing a shallow, selfish lady who solely placed her interest in money and luxury, the things which she often took refuge in when things went wrong. As the plot developed itself, the actuality that Jay fell in love with the idea of Daisy, instead of Daisy herself, was much more evident. And it took quite some time for him to discover and acknowledge the truth.

Fitzgerald's love for Zelda was very apparent, too, except that it seemed more genuine and pragmatic. Not much is speculated about Fitz and Zelda's relationship in the Guild Arc, but his love for her was very deep, as everything he did was for her and their deceased daughter.

Side note: Fitzgerald (the author) based Daisy's character partially on Zelda, as both women were brought up in wealthy families and took a general liking to lifestyles revolving around money and ease.

Fitzgerald was in love with Zelda, a woman plagued by a debilitating illness. In The Great Gatsby, Jay was in love with a woman who was plagued by the deceptive addiction of self-satisfaction gained by pleasure and whatnot. Zelda was impaired by an mental illness, while Daisy was intoxicated by the security of money and prestige. This is an abstract suggestion though. Personally, that's how I interpreted this correlation when it came to examining these dynamics in their respective universes.

Tom Buchanan

As mentioned before, Thomas Buchanan was Daisy's husband and Jay's rival who had similar characteristics in matters of personality. The Toms in both book and anime were arrogant and cunning, which pretty much vouches for their selfishness.

In the book, Tom is supposedly the love of Daisy's life, except that she just married him for his money instead of waiting for Gatsby. Then again, Tom was involved in a love affair outside his marriage with a lady named Myrtle Wilson. Tom cheated on Daisy by getting involved with Myrtle. On the other hand, Daisy was unfaithful to Tom by keeping her love and relationship with Jay a secret from him.

The climax of the story partly revolves around Myrtle dying in a hit-and-run car accident. The grand twist was that Daisy was the one driving the car, and the car actually belonged to Gatsby. Because the car belonged to Gatsby, George Wilson, the husband of Myrtle, was bent on revenge and tracked down the car. He ended up killing Jay Gatsby, and soon after that, he killed himself.

It was quite a scandal, but Daisy estranged herself from such a tedious matter. In fact, when Jay died, she did not even attend his funeral. Tom was under the impression that Gatsby was the one who killed his mistress, not Daisy, his wife. Either ways, Nick described them in a way that sums up what became of them after Jay's death:

They were careless people, Tom and Daisy— they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made...

It's interesting to note that in chapter 45 of the BSD manga, Tom appears as the antagonist who was later found guilty of murdering his employee, but the blame was originally put on T.J Eckleburg, the inventor of the Eyes of God.

Side note: T.J. Eckleburg was actually an optician who appeared on a billboard advertisement in the novel. This billboard was used as a personification by Nick Carraway, which was meant to embody the representation of a displeased overseer who observed the events that unfolded before him. The Eyes of God has a similar concept: scrutinising everything with an accuracy of 97%. It's a personal speculation, but the Eyes of God was proven to be of utmost importance in the Cannibalism Arc when it came to capturing Fyodor Dostoevsky. Likewise, T.J. Eckleburg's eyes showed how corruption and misconduct never escaped his judgmental visage.

sorry about the quality of the manga panels ;-;

In the manga, Fitzgerald manages to triumph over Tom by betraying his trust altogether in order to obtain the ownership of the Eyes of God and Tom's company. This stands in contrast to what became of Jay in the novel, but the protagonist got what he wanted in this universe.

Keep in mind that Fitzgerald didn't act according to fulfil what justice required; it was purely business. Just like Jay Gatsby put on the facade of a plain, rich man who was really just bootlegging his way to opulence, Fitzgerald wasn't afraid to betray someone's trust to get what he wanted.

Nick Carraway and Louisa May Alcott

If I were to pick a character that represented Louisa May Alcott in BSD from the book, I'd pick the narrator himself: Nick Carraway. Again, this is my personal interpretation, so the association between these two characters is just my personal opinion.

Nick Carraway was known as the more reserved, cynical protagonist compared to Jay. The both of them developed a cordial friendship as the story progressed.

Nick initially took a liking to Gatsby, who was his neighbour. The enigmatic aura Gatsby emitted called for Nick's attention, and in the same way, Gatsby reciprocated his interest in Nick by making the effort to acquaint himself with him.

He had one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced, or seemed to face, the whole external world for an instant and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself.

There were a few times which suggests that Nick didn't like the way Gatsby acted or spoke. Nevertheless, Nick was the only one who stuck with Gatsby until the end.

"They're a rotten crowd," I shouted across the lawn. "You're worth the whole damn bunch put together.

(This was the last thing Nick said to Jay before he died.)

At first, Nick was intrigued by Jay's mystical nature and peculiar idiosyncrasies, but found that Gatsby was a very strange, but 'morally bad' man. However, over time, Nick became one of the few who managed to recognise Gatsby's idealistic ambitions; he saw through all the fame and wealth and found a mere human being capable of being entrapped by love's snares. Basically, he understood Gatsby, despite disagreeing with his actions and even his behaviour at times.

As for Louisa, well, it is a known fact that she was loyal to Fitzgerald because of how much she respected and trusted him.

Both Nick and Louisa were intelligent, witty people with generally nice, honest, and reserved dispositions. Their self-contained demeanours make it very easy to get along with the more exurbent/dominant personas of Gatsby and Fitzgerald. So in the event where each pair was isolated from the rest of the world, they had each other to depend on.

Next morning I sent the butler to New York with a letter to Wolfsheim, which asked for information and urged him to come out on the next train. That request seemed superfluous when I wrote it. I was sure he’d start when he saw the newspapers, just as I was sure a there’d be a wire from Daisy before noon – but neither a wire nor Mr. Wolfsheim arrived; no one arrived except more police and photographers and newspaper men. When the butler brought back Wolfsheim’s answer I began to have a feeling of defiance, of scornful solidarity between Gatsby and me against them all.

Such a dynamic created a close bond of trust. Just as Nick was not hesitant to stick by Gatsby's side, Louisa went to great extents just to return Fitzgerald back to his former leading position and work together with him.

Side note: Nick Carraway is suggested to have the INTP personality type, while Louisa is most likely an INFP. Both these personalities are strikingly similar in many ways. They are individualistic in thinking and described as 'seekers' of their place in the world. If you're interested in a more detailed comparison, check this post out

Alright, that's about it for my speculations; I hope they weren't too messy. Thank you so much for reading!

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

- Nick Carraway, The Great Gatsby

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd characters #character analysis #bsd analysis #bsd fitzgerald #bsd guild #literature analysis #port mafia #armed detective agency #the guild #bsd louisa may alcott #.ryley.speaks

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buckysflannelpajamas · 3 years

Text

Bleeding Hearts

Summary: Being Tony Starks daughter has its pros and cons. One of the pros being you get to live with your best friends, the Avengers. One of the cons you will soon find out is having to deal with the one and only, James Buchanan Barnes...

Takes place during the imaginary time after Civil War where everyone love in the tower and goes through to Endgame.

Trigger warning: Talks of depression/depressing thoughts

Chapter 5

2nd person POV

Fading. That's how you describe the feeling when you start to stoop into a depressive episode. You can feel your emotions fading to numbness, and eventually an all encompassing emotional down. Each avenger has their own way of trying to help you through it. Honestly you want to be left alone for the most part, alone to dwell in the sadness you think you deserve. It was harder when you first decided to move back into the tower after living on your own when you had been released from the hospital. In the beginning, you couldn't even get a moment alone. But eventually everyone got into a pattern of how they help you deal with your depression.

Wanda and Vision make you baked goods. Mainly strawberry cupcakes. Wanda comes to deliver them to your room every morning, and subtly implies she will be going shopping later and hinting at you coming. It worked a total of one time. But after having a mental breakdown in the Gucci dressing room you realized it probably wasn’t best for you to be in public when you feel this way.

Steve and your dad are always the most worried. They check on you multiple times a day. Steve also draws you caricatures of avengers and writes something funny underneath them. This is the closest Steve has ever gotten to understanding memes. Tony on the other hand tries to lure you out of your funk by bribing you with a trip to your favorite Korean food restaurant in South Korea via his private jet.

Pepper sends you flowers. The two of you aren’t close and aren't overly fond of eachother. You assume she mainly sends the flowers to please Tony.

Peter constantly sends you memes throughout the day, which you mostly ignore.

No one knows where Thor and Bruce are so it’s safe to say they don't know when you’re suffering, and no one wants to call Clint just to inform him you’re sad again.

Uncle Rhodey usually finds out because Tony needs to vent to someone about his worries. What he does for you by far one of the coolest things. He has a military buddy of his hack into the computers of major entertainment companies so you can see blockbuster movies before they are released.

Natasha, who is sort of a mother figure to you though the two of you would never admit it, comes to you late at night when your insomnia kicks in. Neither of you speak, she simply sits down on your bed beside you and braids your hair while the TV show ‘how it’s made’ plays softly in the background. The two activities always help you to sleep. And on the nights you can’t stop crying, she’ll lie there with you, rubbing your back like a mother calming her child until her tears stop.

Finally, Sam comes in the moment you need it most, right when you are so tired and drained that you’re ready to open up about how you're feeling.

It’s day 3 of your depression and you have just reached that point. Somehow, Sam always knows when you’re ready.

You’re sitting up in bed, bundled up in an exuberant amount of blankets and staring blankly at the wall in front of you. Your mind drifts through a series of depressing thoughts.

Pathetic.

Worthless.

Burden.

These are the words that are most consistently in your mind.

For a moment you consider no longer taking your meds. Sometimes it feels as though they don't work anyway.

That’s when you hear the knock outside your living room door.

“Friday, tell Sam he can come on in.” You mumble to the disembodied AI, your voice raw from all the crying you’ve been doing.

“Of course, miss.” Even Friday sounds saddened by your less than pleasant mental state.

You don’t bother to wipe your tears away, you would be crying soon again anyway.

You hear Sam make his way through your front door, passing through the living area and opening the door to your room.

You notice Sam holding a steaming plate of eggs, sausage, and hash browns in one hand. He must have found out from Friday that all you’ve really eaten this week is Wanda and Visions strawberry cupcakes.

“I would have brought some OJ too but then I wouldn’t have been able to open the door.” Sam jokes. He takes a quick glance around your room, trying to gauge how bad the episode is. Used tissues cover the floor by the right side of the bed. Worn pajamas are strewn around on the floor and the pile of clothes you leave on your chair hasn’t been cleaned up. You usually clean it once a week. Not to mention your greasy hair makes it obvious that you haven’t showered in a few days.

“Pretty bad, huh?” Sam asks.

“Yeah.” You answer honestly. You don’t need to bullshit with Sam.

He takes a seat by you on the bed, placing the food in front of you. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, but-“

“But you feel like you deserve the pain?”

“You know that.” You sigh.

“Tell me why.”

“You know why too.”

Sam pushes a fork in your hand. “I’m trusting you with this.” He jokes, earning an actual laugh from you before moving on. “I have a general idea, but I don’t like to make assumptions.”

You poke at the eggs with your fork. “I-“ it’s hard to speak. You know at any moment you’re going to break out sobbing. “I feel so weak.” You choke out. “I put the whole team at risk by being naive enough to think a guy wouldn’t try drugging my drink at a crowded party. Even if it is my house.”

Sam doesn't speak yet. He always waits for you to let it all out.

“How could I be so fucking stupid?!” You sob. “I was selfish. Why do you all even keep me around? I’m a liability and a burden to the team. I hate that about myself and I hate that I’m so weak! I hate that no matter how hard I train, I’ll never be strong like any of you! And I know that that’s also selfish because you all went through so much pain to be what you are, but I can’t help but feel insignificant. I’m just some dumb fucking artist that sits around all day doddling while you all are actually doing something meaningfull in the world!” There it is. The root of what triggered your episode. It’s not just about Authur. It's about the fact that you can’t protect yourself. It’s the constant feeling of insignificance that lingers in the back of your mind.

Sam puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it gently. “First of all, you’re not just some dumb fucking artist.” He quotes you. “You are a world renowned artist and you should be proud of it. More importantly, you are not insignificant or a burden. Ok? If we didn’t want you around, you wouldn’t be here. We all love you and want you to be here with us. You’re part of our family. You might not be on the front lines, but you do more for the world than you know.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah I doubt that.”

“I mean it.” Sam Insists. “You said so yourself that you know how much pain we’ve been through. How do you think the avengers would keep it together without their own little therapist.” He laughs lightly.

You furrow your brows. “Um, Sam, I’m not a therapist. I can barely keep myself together.”

“You might not be licensed but you are always there for us. Getting us to talk through our thoughts and feelings. Giving us advice and helping us come to a resolution.”

“That’s what friends are for.” You shrug.

“Yeah well friends don’t usually have to deal with their other friends' war trauma and helping them deal with finding out their best friend they thought was dead is actually alive and actively trying to kill them.”

You stay silent for a moment. “I guess that’s true.”

Sam pats you lightly on the back. “You keep the avengers sane so that we can help the world. Which is just as important.”

Finally, you take a bite of your eggs. “I disagree that it’s just important but I know that argument won’t go anywhere, so I’ll just accept it.”

“I know that this conversation won’t solve all of life's problems, but maybe it helped you feel good enough to to get up out of bed? Maybe get up and take a shower? No offense, but you don’t exactly smell like daisies.” He laughs.

You shove Sam in the arm. “Hey! You should take a whiff of yourself after you come back from a mission.”

“Touché.” Sam pauses, noticing something on your bedside table.

“Sour gummy worms? That’s not part of your usual routine…” Sam trails of, reaching over you to grab the box of candy before you have a chance to stop him.

“Wait-”

It's too late, he sees the note written in scribbly cursive on the piece of paper attached to the back of the box.

“Who’s this from?” He asks curiously, hoping from your bed and moving around as you chase him down, frantically trying to remove the letter from his grasp.

“Sam stop!”

“Dear y/n,” Sam starts to read aloud. “I don’t pity you. I relate to you. When I said I’m sorry I meant it.”

You jump, reaching for the letter but Sam moves it high above his head.

He continues to read. “I meant to tell you sorry before the party. I only blew up at the hospital because I was mad at myself for letting someone on the team get hurt. I shouldn’t have been such an asshole to you. I know it’s a lousy excuse but I was just jealous of your happiness. If you give me the chance, I’d like to make it up to you. I heard you like Star Wars. I haven’t seen the movies… maybe we can watch them sometime? Sincerely, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Sam looks at you with the biggest shit eating grin on his face. “You two got a movie date?”

You finally snatch the candy and letter from his hand. “See this is why I didn’t want you to read it! I knew you would take it that way.” You pout.

“How else am I supposed to take it?” Sam laughs.

“Like a guy with a guilty conscience is trying to be nice to the sad girl.” You say as if it’s the most obvious thing ever.

“You can be so blind to some things.” He shakes his head.

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

Sam takes a seat back down at the end of your bed. “Everyone living in the tower can tell he has the hots for you.” He pauses in thought. “Expect for Tony. Barnes would be as good as dead if he knew.”

“You’ve been talking to Nat and Wanda, haven’t you?”

“And Steve and Vision.” He grins. “We have a whole group text dedicated to the conversation.”

“Great.” You groan, rubbing your temples as you take a seat by Sam on the bed.

“Look, you don’t have to believe me. But you should at least give him a chance to make it up to you. I’m not Barnes biggest fan, but he’s really not a bad guy.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Sam interrupts you.

“Just think about it, ok?” Sam gets up from your bed, making his way to the door. “And take a shower in the meantime! You stink little sister!”

You grab a pillow and throw it at him, the pillow only managing to hit the door as he closes it.

“And eat some food too!”

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #sam wilson #bucky barnes x stark!reader #bucky barnes x reader

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wyomingescalators · 3 years

Text

Gatsby - chapter three rewrite

[Author’s note: I was procrastinating doing uni work and decided to rewrite chapter 3 of The Great Gatsby. It’s fairly similar to the original, but there are some differences]. Word count: 4920.

There was music from my neighbor’s house throughout the warm summer nights. By seven the orchestra arrives, the swimmers are upstairs getting changed, and the cars are already parked five deep in the drive and nearly hitting party-goers as they dash across the drive towards the entrance. Hallways, gardens and rooms are already filled with groups of people, all of whom are dressed brightly and with the intention of being seen. As each minute passes, the attendees grow looser, more relaxed, more cheerful. Alcohol continued to flow from the bars like waterfalls, with cocktail glasses never leaving people’s hands. The air became more and more alive with conversations, laughter, music and promptly forgotten introductions. As the night progressed, the lights would grow brighter, the music would grow louder and the voices would grow in volume and confidence. Laughter became easier and would echo and spill into the night, groups would melt and shift, and those dancing began to move with more conviction.

Normally at around this hour I would be stood in my kitchen, preparing dinner, trying to avoid looking out of the window at another one of Gatsby’s parties so I don’t cause another wave of loneliness to erupt within me. Yet inevitably my eyes would be drawn to the glowing crowds filling Gatsby’s estate. Their voices and laughter would reach me from within my house, practically taunting me with how lonely I am - a bachelor of almost thirty with a calendar so empty that you could have swapped it with a blank page and I wouldn’t notice the difference for a good few days.

Fortunately for me, I did not have to spend my summer alone, reminiscing over previous summers where I was more than just some nobody that occasionally made an appearance at the Buchanan’s dinner table. Early one Saturday morning, I opened my front door to find a chauffeur in blue uniform with an invitation in hand. I felt somewhat embarrassed, considering I had answered the door a matter of minutes after I woke up, meaning I was still in my dressing gown and with my hair not combed. But the chauffeur left quickly and without a word uttered to me. I looked over the very formal note as I drank my morning coffee. In the note, Gatsby informed me that he would be honoured if I attended his “little party” that night.

Shortly after arriving - dressed in a simple black suit - I discovered that I was the only one who had actually been invited. At no point did anyone request to see my invitation, nor did I see anyone else wielding one. In fact, I suspected that hardly anyone there had even met Gatsby, they simply showed up because a friend of a friend knows Gatsby’s cousin (or some other wild and dubious connection), and that vague connection gave them permission to act how they pleased once they arrived at Gatsby’s.

I attempted to find my host once I arrived, but after a few awkward interactions with party-goers who didn’t even know what the man looked like, let alone where he was, I slipped away to the nearest cocktail table. At least there I could like I had some purpose without drawing attention to the fact I had been living in this area for so little time that I could count my acquaintances on one hand.

Within my first hour being there I’d had enough drinks that the dance floor was starting to look appealing, but I wasn’t drunk enough to venture there alone. I would require a partner, someone else to dance alongside me in order to conceal my poor and drunken coordination. To my relief, as I finished yet another drip with a sharp gulp and ordered another, I finally spotted a familiar face within the crowd. Jordan Baker stood, drink elegantly in hand, looking through the sea of people with a look of almost boredom.

Fresh drink in hand, I quickly walked to her. It was probably for the best that I attached myself to someone before I made a fool out of myself by trying to make new connections with passers-by.

“Care for a dance?” I asked as I reached her.

Jordan raised her eyebrows. “Someone’s made use of Gatsby’s hospitality.”

“Pardon?” I felt my cheeks turn hot.

She laughed briefly. “No need to get embarrassed. I was just remarking that you seem like you’re having fun.”

“Oh!” I decided to take a few hearty sips of my drink rather than say anything else.

“I thought you might be here. I remember that you live next door,” Jordan continued, looking around.

“Yes. Well, this is my first time here, actually.” Each word that came out of my mouth seemed to stumble out and awkwardly fall. How much had I had to drink?

“How about we go outside?” Jordan suggested. A slight hint at how she had registered that I was not sober.

With her slender arm linked with mine, we weaved through the crowds and slipped outside. The cool, night air was welcome against my warm skin. We descended the steps and reached the warmly lit garden. The voices and music were less harsh on my ears here than they were inside. We sat ourselves down at one of the tables. Two girls and three men sat at the same table as us, absorbed in their own conversations. The general hum of chatter and music was soothing to me.

“Do you go to parties much, Nick?” Jordan asked me.

“This is the second one I have been to this summer, if you don’t include the dinner parties,” I answered.

“What was the first party?”

“Oh, just some party with Tom Buchanan,” I replied vaguely, taking another sip of my drink.

Jordan took a sip of hers, not inquiring further. She probably assumed my vagueness was because of the attendees, and while she was somewhat correct to assume that - after all, Daisy hadn’t been invited to that particular gathering - I was actually being vague because of another attendee, and more specifically what we did after the party. I don’t think Myrtle, Tom or Catherine know what happened, or even suspected. They were too focused on Myrtle’s broken nose. They didn’t notice Mr McKee and I slip away for a few hours. Though the elevator boy certainly noticed.

Consumed in thought about what had happened the other week, I had lost track of the conversations going on around me. Jordan had begun a conversation with the two girls next to me. The girls - Lucille and Essie - were discussing their experience the last time they went to one of Gatsby’s parties. Lucille had torn her dress and Gatsby had sent her an expensive replacement, which she would have worn if it didn’t require adjustments.

I tuned in as the topic of their conversation changed from torn dresses to who Gatsby was. Jordan and the two girls were leaning close together, as were the three men. I leaned in also.

“Somebody told me they thought he killed a man once,” Essie told us in a hushed voice.

This mysterious man was coming into focus. One tiny piece of the story told us that he was dangerous and rich, maybe even powerful. A thrill passed over us at the thought of such a man.

“I don’t think that’s what happened exactly.” Lucille was sceptical. “It’s more that he was a German spy during the war.”

One of the men nodded in agreement.

Essie rolled her eyes. “He couldn’t have been a German spy. He was in the American army during the war. Look at him when he thinks nobody’s looking at him. I bet he killed a man.”

We all looked around, a shiver passing over us. Perhaps it was a testimony to romantic speculation that we almost expected to find this man in our midst, with crimson stained hands and wild eyes. After all, don’t most powerful and dangerous men have blood on their hands? While Tom wasn’t as remarkable or influential as he used to be, I remembered him during his prime days in college. His hands are certainly stained red.

“Let’s get out,” whispered Jordan.

“Why?” I whispered back.

Lucille and Essie returned to their own conversation.

“This conversation is too polite for my tastes,” Jordan replied, standing up.

I stood also. “Too polite? How?”

She didn’t answer, instead walking away. I followed. Jordan then explained that we were going to find the host. She felt uneasy at how she hadn’t met him, and Lucille and Essie hadn’t helped her unease.

We went to the bar first. Gatsby was nowhere to be seen, but we finished and replaced our drinks while we were there. We could not find him outside, within the conversations at the candlelit tables. We could not find him on the steps or veranda. Nor on the dance floor, or at the cocktail tables, or by the piano that a blond, drunk man was playing.

Jordan and I stumbled upon a large, Gothic library within Gatsby’s mansion. I suspected the library had been imported from another mansion somewhere. A short, middle-aged man, with enormous owl-eyed spectacles, was halfway up a ladder against one of the towering bookshelves. He was grabbing books at random, flicking through them and then tossing them to the floor with a bang. I was concerned he would fall.

He turned to us with excitement as we entered.

“What do you think?” He tossed another book to the ground.

“About what?” Jordan asked.

I finished my drink and placed it on a large table, covered in empty glasses and discarded books.

He gestured to the bookshelves. “About all of this. They’re real!”

“The books?”

He nodded. “Absolutely real. I thought they were cardboard at first.”

“I didn’t realise whether or not the contents of Gatsby’s library are real was a matter of concern,” Jordan remarked.

He carried on, not reacting to anything Jordan was saying, a book in hand. “See! It’s real. A piece of printed material. All of these books are. What realism! He even knew when to stop, he didn’t even cut the pages. But what do you expect, really?”

Jordan and I exchanged glances as he tossed the book onto the ground among all the other books he’d thrown.

He didn’t stop talking. “Who brought you? Or did you just come? I was brought. Most people were brought.”

“I’ll have whatever he’s drank,” Jordan whispered to me.

Out of politeness, I tried not to laugh in front of the man.

“I was brought by a woman named Roosevelt,” he continued. “Mrs Claud Roosevelt. Do you know her? I met her somewhere last night. I’ve been drunk for about a week now, and I thought it might sober me up to sit in the library.”

“Has it?” Jordan asked.

“I think so? I can’t tell. I’ve only been in here an hour. Did I tell you about the books-”

“Yes.”

We politely excused ourselves and left him to it. As I closed the library door behind us, I wondered who would clean the books up from the floor tomorrow.

The party-goers were only getting drunker. Their dancing was growing more fluid and free, each song injecting everyone with more energy and life. Laughter, cheers and singing grew louder as the hours slid by. By midnight the hilarity had increased, alcohol poured down our throats easier, our limbs moved with more ease. The world felt warmer, livelier, more at ease. The moon rose higher along with the music and our moods.

Despite the cosy, lively atmosphere around us, Jordan and I hadn’t ventured into the dance floor yet. Instead we remained by the edge, half empty drinks in hand, moving ever so slightly to the music. Then Jordan was pulled into the fray of the dance floor by some girl, and she joined a group of girls, dancing together in a group. Separating me from the group were couples who were dancing together in pairs and keeping to the more civilized edge of the dance floor.

A man I was stood next to gave me a smile. “Your face is familiar. Weren’t you in the First Division during the war?”

“Yes. I was in the Twenty-eighth Infantry,” I replied, glad I could be making conversation with someone new.

We talked briefly about some gray, little villages in France. He revealed that he lived nearby, as he told me he had bought a hydroplane and was going to try it out in the morning. So, he was rich. But I was only half paying attention to the words coming out of his mouth. I was more paying attention to his appearance. He was undeniably handsome. His eyes were intoxicating to me, and I couldn’t help but be drawn into them.

“Want to go with me, old sport? Just near the shore along the sound.”

“What time?”

He smiled. I was already growing fond of that smile. “Any time that suits you best.”

I found myself smiling. I then took a sip of my drink, worried I was smiling too much. I had grown slightly nervous around him, despite the soothing alcohol flowing through me. I only sipped my drink because I needed something to do during this lull in the conversation.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked.

“I am,” I said. “This is a strange party for me. I haven’t even seen the host. I live just next door. This man, Gatsby, sent over a chauffeur with an invitation. I thought everyone got invited, but I seem to be the only one.”

The man looked at me with confusion, as if I was missing an obvious clue. “I’m Gatsby.”

“Oh! I beg your pardon.” I felt my cheeks turn hot in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I thought you knew, old sport. I’m afraid I haven’t been a very good host.”

Gatsby then gave me another smile, and it conveyed more than just him silently telling me that he understood. It was one of those rare smiles, with a comforting warmth to it. It was more than just the common, loving smiles you would gain from someone you were close to. The smile Gatsby gave me reassured me that he understood me completely, that whatever flaws of mine I revealed to him would never be capable of turning him away from me, and that he believed in me unwaveringly and wholeheartedly. His smile drew me in, and filled my chest with a heated energy I had not felt in a long time, not even during that time with Mr McKee. My heart began to beat faster. What I felt in that moment was more than some simple, primal want. It was a burst of life that erupted in my chest and spread out through my body. It was a feeling that made all the moments before now finally make sense. It was a feeling that gave my life some form of purpose in this strange, growing world.

Objectively speaking, the smile Gatsby gave me was a brief one, lasting maybe a few seconds at most before fading into a smile more small and polite, but during those few seconds I just wanted to lean in towards him and bring him closer to me. Yet I couldn’t. I was left there, less than a metre from him, startled by the wave of emotion that had just swept over me.

As I came down from that intense few seconds, a butler hurried towards Gatsby, informing him that Chicago was calling him on the wire. He then excused himself with a small bow.

“If you want anything just ask for it, old sport,” he urged me. “Excuse me. I’ll rejoin you later.”

Even if I had the nerve to tell him what I truly wanted, I didn’t have the time, as he vanished into the crowd.

I finished my drink, trying to calm myself, and that was when I noticed Jordan had returned to my side.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours, Nick?” Jordan asked.

“Pardon?”

“I saw your reaction when Gatsby smiled at you. You looked completely smitten.”

“I- It wasn’t like that. I just thought he- I was- He was being-” The words were crashing out of my mouth in a jumbled mess as I tried to come up with something to say. In my drunken state I had considered telling Jordan what happened after I went to Tom’s little party the other week, but I decided against it at the last second. While she wasn’t the most moral out of the people around us, how would she react to this?

Jordan laughed. “I don’t judge you for it! I just thought your reaction to him smiling was rather sweet.”

I wished I was capable of going more than five minutes at this party without blushing.

“Anyway, he once told me he was an Oxford man,” Jordan said to me, pushing the conversation away from me and my emotions. “However, I don’t believe it.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t think he went.” Something in her tone reminded me of the conversation we had with Lucille and Essie earlier.

I would have accepted without question that Gatsby arrived from Louisiana, or Pennsylvania, or the lower East Side of New York. That was comprehensible. But young men didn’t - as far as I was aware - drift coolly from nowhere and buy a palace on Long Island.

“Doesn’t matter.” Jordan changed the subject again. “He gives large parties, and I like large parties. They’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy.”

There was the boom of a bass drum, and the voice of the orchestra leader called out above the loud hum of the garden.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he cried. “At the request of Mr Gatsby, we are going to play for you Mr Vladimir Tostoff’s latest work. The piece is known as, ‘Vladimir Tostoff’s Jazz History of the World!’”

Cheers erupted from the garden. But the nature of Mr Tostoff’s composition slipped from my mind and interest as my eyes fell on Gatsby. He stood alone on the marble steps, looking from one group to another with approving eyes. His tanned skin was attractive, and his hair was well kept and tidy. I could see nothing sinister about him, no indication that blood ever dripped from his fingertips. I noticed that he was the only one here not drinking - as the hilarity increased, he grew more correct.

When the ‘Jazz History of the World’ was over, girls were putting their heads on men’s shoulders, or swooning playfully into their arms knowing they would be safely caught. But no one swooned onto Gatsby, or rested their head on his shoulder. Though I wished I could rest my head on his broad shoulder, or swoon backwards playfully, reassured by the knowledge that his strong arms would catch me.

“I beg your pardon.” His butler was suddenly stood beside us. “Miss Baker? I beg your pardon, but Mr Gatsby would like to speak to you alone.”

“Me?” Jordan was surprised.

“Yes, madame.”

She placed her empty glass on a table, raised her eyebrows at me in surprise, and followed the butler towards the house. I watched her walk away, her evening dress catching the light, and I noted that she was attractive too. Maybe each person, regardless of gender, had some attractive quality to them. The contrasting ways men and women carried and presented themselves were exciting to me. Gentle and strong voices, distinct and colourful personalities, skin that could be rough and soft, tall and short people. There was overlap, with men and women being attractive to me for the same reasons, and there were differences. Qualities one gender possesses that the other gender didn’t always bring to the table. All of them appealed to me. But in that moment, my mind was beginning to focus on one man only.

I went inside. I was alone and it was almost two. A girl was now playing the piano, and beside her was another woman, engaged in song. She was drunk - like the majority of us - and she was weeping as she sang. Anytime there was a pause, she would fill it with gasping, broken sobs before continuing to sing again. Someone then made a comment about how she should sing the notes on her face, as her tears had dragged themselves through her makeup and down her face, and as a response she sank into a chair and promptly fell asleep.

“She had a fight with a man who says he’s her husband,” a stranger told me.

I looked around. Most of the remaining guests were in arguments - women fighting their husbands, the people Jordan was with earlier - the alcohol turning their moods from friendly to sour. Then there were people bickering about how they had to go home already, as if two in the morning was far too early to be leaving, even though many respectable people were in their beds by now.

“Whenever he sees I’m having a good time he wants to leave.”

“Never heard anything so selfish in my life.”

“We’re always the first ones to leave.”

“So are we.”

The orchestra had already left by this point, along with many other guests. Some had left earlier, plenty had stumbled away into the night over the past hour, and now some people were being carried away, kicking and drunk.

I was waiting for my hat in the hall when the library door opened and Jordan and Gatsby came out together. He was quickly saying something to her as multiple people approached him to say farewell.

Jordan’s party were calling for her to hurry up, but she hesitated for a moment to say goodbye to me.

“I just heard the most amazing thing,” Jordan told me.

They were in there about an hour. It was safe to assume whatever Gatsby told her was interesting.

“But I swore I wouldn’t tell and here I am, tantalizing you,” she continued. Then she let out a graceful yawn. “Please come and see me. I’m in the phone book, under my aunt’s name. Mrs Sigourney Howard.”

Jordan then hurried off, giving me a wave as she joined her party and promptly left. I watched her go. As I watched, I spotted that some poor fellow had lodged his vehicle into a ditch beside the road within minutes of leaving Gatsby’s drive. I could hear the voices of the driver - who I realised was Owl Eyes - and the crowd surrounding him echoing back to where I stood.

“See! It went in the ditch.”

“How did it happen?”

“I don’t know. I know nothing about mechanics.”

“But how did it happen? Did you run it into the wall?”

“Don’t ask me.”

“Well, if you’re a poor driver you oughtn’t to try driving at night, or in this state.”

“But I wasn’t even trying.”

“Do you want to commit suicide?”

“You’re lucky only the wheel came off!”

While the scene unfolding just beyond Gatsby’s drive was entertaining, I decided to turn my attention away from it. I felt embarrassed and awkward, at how late I’d stayed during my first visit, I decided to have one last word with Gatsby, before I made the brief walk back to my house, in order to explain myself. I wanted to tell him I had looked for him earlier and that I was sorry for not finding him sooner.

Gatsby smiled as soon as he saw me.

“I’m sorry for not finding you sooner. I tried to find you, earlier, in the garden, and also a bit in the house. But don’t worry, I didn’t pry too much.” The words had inevitably began to nervously tumble from my mouth.

“Don’t worry about it, old sport. And don’t forget we’re going up in the hydroplane tomorrow morning, at nine o’clock.”

“Why are you being so kind to me?” I asked him. Part of me almost expected him to reveal he wanted something from me, or perhaps he would reveal an even more sinister motive. Or maybe he was just being polite. Why did I ask?

He put a hand on my shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. I felt a brief spark of electricity shoot through me at the contact.

“I just think you’re wonderful,” Gatsby answered with sincerity.

“Really?”

“Of course, old sport! Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m not that remarkable,” I admitted.

The butler emerged behind his shoulder, something about Philadelphia wanting him on the phone. Gatsby waved him away with an excuse. He wasn’t interested in whoever was on the phone, he was interested in me.

We began to walk. There was hardly anyone around now except for staff, and the occasional party-goer who struggled to remain vertical.

“Tell me about yourself,” Gatsby requested.

“What would you like to know?” I asked.

“Anything.”

I wasn’t sure where to start. Nothing seemed interesting enough. But I had to start somewhere. After all, Gatsby was interested. Though I knew my life would never be as intriguing as his, even though I knew little of his life in that moment.

“When I was at university, I dreamed of being a writer,” I told him.

“What happened?”

“I gave up,” I admitted.

“Why?” He seemed appalled.

“I suppose I’m not good enough.”

“Nonsense! I’m sure you’re a damn good writer.”

“You haven’t read a word I’ve written.”

“Yet I’m certain of it. Once you’re done writing whatever project you are working on do send it my way, I would be honoured to read it.”

“I’m flattered, thank you.”

Part of me wondered if Gatsby had been watching me with the same gaze I had been watching him with. Had he been looking at me just as fondly as I had been looking at him that night?

We stepped out onto the veranda, went down the steps and walked through the empty and quiet garden together. The silence was peaceful and comfortable as the world around us calmed down and settled after an exciting night, but all I could focus on was the quick thumping of my heart.

Beyond the garden was a dock, and beyond that was dark and calm waters, and further beyond that was a tiny green light at the end of some distant dock. We stood at the end of the garden together, side by side, the light from the mansion and finished party just about reaching us. I suddenly remembered seeing Gatsby alone in the garden weeks ago, presumably lost in thought. I looked out at the green light, and at the other lights from the surrounding houses and the lights of city buildings on the horizon, and for a few moments I was transfixed by these Earth-bound stars.

I began to talk, mostly to myself. “Everyone suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal values. I’ve always suspected myself of being one of the few honest people I know. But can I call myself an honest man if the only times I’m being honest about myself are when I’m drunk?”

“You’re thinking aloud,” Gatsby said quietly. “Is everything alright?”

My eyes went to the other lights. “I want to be honest, but maybe that is too difficult.”

I could sense a pair of eyes watching me carefully, and I sensed that Gatsby was looking towards something that wasn’t a distant light on a dock.

“Pardon?”

I turned my head away from the lights and found myself looking right at him, and he was looking right back at me. And we silently, truly, saw each other in that moment.

A butler then emerged at Gatsby’s side, pulling his attention away from me. I looked back out at the dark bay and I began to wonder if I was just being foolish. Gatsby had just met me, and he was merely making eye contact with me. How could it be anything more than that?

Gatsby turned to me. “It’s getting late. I ought to… retire for the night.”

The excitement in me was fading as I noticed how sluggish I was starting to feel, and it was certainly getting late. Already I was dreading the state I would be in tomorrow.

“Good night,” I replied.

Gatsby smiled at me. “Good night.”

The butler was impatiently waiting.

I began to walk away, towards my house. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” He gave me a quick, formal wave before heading back to his house alongside his butler.

Looking over what I have written so far, it seems I have given the impression that the events of three nights over the course of several weeks during the summer were all that absorbed me. While the dinner party at the Buchanan’s, and the party with Tom and his mistress that had quite the ending, were interesting, they were merely casual events in a crowded summer. But the night that I met Gatsby remained firmly in my mind, and absorbed me in the following days. While I kept trying to push away my unrealistic fantasies, telling myself that he was simply being polite to me as he seemed like the kind of fellow who didn’t want trouble with anyone, part of me kept suspecting there was more to it than that.

After all, I was the only one who got properly invited to his parties.

#the great gatsby #natsby #gatsby

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