#are the ones with the right idea. they're the ones i aspire to be like
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talking to a friend about getting back into art and i think the #1 most important piece of art advice i could ever get or give is just "figure out what is FUN to you"
like i think there is sooooo much emphasis on how to build SKILL in art but a lot of it really treats art like a job or like video game grinding, like it's this thankless job that you have to work at in order to reach a Threshold and i know it's not EASY to make yourself have fun but like
imo a solid 70% of the reason i create art is because the Act of Drawing is fun to me. it's fun problem-solving and planning and putting down lines and playing with colors and tools. it's fun to depict little scenes in my head or to create outfits or to find ways to fill the canvas. never forget that creating can be fun. sometimes it's hard and sometimes you have to battle through your own blockades to get there but the ultimate goal should always be to ENJOY it, to find what you enjoy doing and then do it forever. improvement will follow enjoyment.
i think especially with all the debate about ML image generation it's more important than ever to embrace FUN. if you're only focused on the end result it's so easy to get in your own head- to think about what doesn't look good or what skills you don't have yet or to compare yourself to other artists. but photography didn't kill the art of drawing and AI won't either because, simply put, there will always be people who want to do the physical act of making art because it's fun to do! using paints and markers, splashing colors around, doing shitty pen doodles, using the symmetry tool in your art program to do abstract mandalas that are just squiggles formed into patterns. do art like you're 5 and you've been handed markers to pass the time. do art like you're bored in class and you're keeping your brain entertained by drawing stick figure comics in the margins. do art like an absent thing, do art because it satisfies your brain. the goal is not to make something beautiful and perfect, the goal is to make something because your hands need to make and your body needs to make.
#i know and love so many people who have intense anxiety about their ability to create art and who are so hard on themselves about the result#and i think that's a REALLY easy thing to feel because creating is also vulnerable & physically difficult and there is SOOOO much to master#but i think for me the people who churn out 300 colored pencil front facing hands behind their backs oc doodles on lined notebook paper-#are the ones with the right idea. they're the ones i aspire to be like#i'm not saying i never struggle either bc tbh#as someone with depression and adhd there are times where the Act of Having Fun is simply not possible#sometimes i CAN'T enjoy things because my ability to feel joy is locked behind a barrier of my mental illness#so i don't think it's an Easy thing to do by far and I don't think you can just Magically Make Yourself Happy And Having Fun#but i DO think that experimenting in a low-stakes low-pressure manner until you find something that clicks in your brain helps#doing things for the sake of doing them is the only way to figure out which ones WILL be fun to you#not all of them will. some things will feel like a slog#but i think you have to look for the passion before you're able to face the slog#if you jump right into the parts that are Hard and Challenge Your Limits it's easy to spin your wheels and get stuck#but if you focus on the super small stakes and the things that are thoughtless and focused more on Sensation-#the sensory experience of mixing paint or the scratch of pencil on paper or the smooth way a specific pen makes lines-#then you can lose yourself in the physical aspect of it FIRST#and then once you've started really ENJOYING those sensations you can start learning new ways to use them#because now you have the drive to want to do more#now you have the desire to find new ways to apply this thing you like doing#long post#even longer tags#art#drawing#artists#art advice
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Desire.
Shin Yuna. The world sees her as a world famous idol, a paragon of beauty of grace. An individual to look up to, a person to aspire towards. Some might see her as untouchable, in a social sphere somewhere near the clouds. But she is more than just an idol with a hectic schedule and a busy life. Yuna is a real life human being, and every human has their flaws, their desires, their dark secrets that they need to keep hidden from the world.
And right now Yuna sure is living up to desires.
"You gonna do it? You gonna cum on my face?"
There she is, the picture perfect idol, sitting on her feet, naked as the day she was born. Surrounding her are three hand selected males, her hand vigorously pumping the cock directly in front of her. Yuna's eyes are firmly set on the glistening knob that her hands are wrapped around, her fingers nimbly moving from tip to hilt, her thumb digging into the meat and tugging and massaging with ferocious intent.
The other two aren't just standing idly by—they're groping and spanking whatever they feel like, an opportunity like this one is unheard of, but a gift Yuna loves to indulge. You see, underneath that cute and bubbly personality, and beyond all her flawless photoshoots and iconic concerts, the fact remains that Yuna is, above everything else, a cock obsessed slut.
The feeling of multiple hands and several hard, throbbing members grazing her petite body always fills Yuna with a pleasure that no amount of her fingers can ever truly match. The pinching of her nipples, the light and harsh spanks to her ass, the feeling of a cock throbbing in her hands. All of these things send her reeling into euphoria.
"Do it! Cum on my face. You gonna make me work for it? Do I have to suck you off? Make you cum by slurping your juices? My hand not enough?"
Her questions comes with a gentle lick to the underside of his shaft. It makes the cock twitch violently in Yuna's firm grip. He's already reaching his climax, that much is evident to Yuna. The only thing she needs now is for him to vocalize.
"I'm gonna... Yuna, I'm..."
"Come on, babe."
With a guttural moan, Yuna feels her cheek being covered by a blast of sticky warmth, followed by spurts of cum across her lips and chin and nose.
She looks down, mouth gaping, tongue hanging out, eye's narrow. The feeling of the sticky substance smeared over her skin, a marking that has her feel warm all over.
"Who's next?!" Yuna moves away from the well spent man, turning her attention to the other two behind her. One has his hands clasped to Yuna's ample ass, the other never stops roughly groping and grabbing her tits, pulling her nipples this and that way.
Yuna doesn't even know these lucky bastard's names—and that's precisely the point. All she knows is that they're some of her biggest fans, and because Yuna's not one to disappoint her supporters, the only reasonable thing for her to do is invite them back to her hotel room for an honest to God gangbang.
No real names, no exchanging numbers. Just a night of fun.
It's Yuna's idea of an ideal way to unwind before an important gig, and she's taking it upon herself to fully indulge.
"You know I offer more than just hand jobs right? My mouth, my pussy...my ass."
Yuna puts some emphasis when she says the word ass—she knows how taboo it is, to be an idol who loves to be fucked in her forbidden hole. Tempting over eager fan boys is such a power rush to Yuna, especially since she always gets what she wants in the end. And tonight will be no different.
Not only does the sudden spurt of her words catch the other two guys off guard, so do her slender fingers, that have already found their way around the nearest cock.
She looks up into his eyes, practically staring into his soul.
"So what do you say sweetheart? Which hole do you wanna fuck? Do you want my mouth? Is it my pussy you craving?"
Yuna smirks.
"Or maybe," her other hand slowly reaches to her asshole, "you're gonna shove your cock right here and treat me like a total anal slut."
She isn't quite touching her tight hole, but her fingertips hover tantalizing close. Close enough to make the guy think of exactly what she's describing, all the dirty details, from start to end. And the mere thought is starting to make him go crazy.
"Have you ever done anal before?"
Her soft and playful tone is hard to resist. This entire experience has left the guy totally speechless. He shakes his head, unable to verbalize any words of any kind.
"Well what do you say Hun? Wanna pop your anal virginity with a world famous superstar?"
Yuna doesn't even give him a chance to answer—she bends down on the bed, ass up face down, spread apart in a position that leaves her totally open to her new fuck buddies.
He watches in absolute shock and disbelief as Yuna playfully wiggles her plump behind, teasingly caressing her puckering asshole in a display that leaves him unable to hold off. He licks his fingers, saliva coating his palm as he reaches forward to insert his middle finger into Yuna's butt. She wasn't lying; Yuna is an anal loving slut, a star whore, and this position is making her squirm. The soft, coos leaving her lips are proof of the immense arousal coursing through her veins. The fact that her pussy is dripping means even more.
"I don't want your finger," Yuna turns back, staring into his eyes again, "I want your cock."
He pulls his finger out with a lewd squelching sound, only to replace it with his cock—hard and pulsating, a sheer result of the slutty actions from the girl splayed out in front of him, seemingly on a platter.
The tip presses against Yuna's eager asshole. She starts to whimper, just slightly, an involuntary reflex as a wave of pleasure fills her veins. It's about to begin, and that moment is like heaven to Yuna.
"Do it," she utters, more quietly now that the tip of his cock is pressing up against her most private place. "Don't tease. Fuck me in the ass. Do it. Please..."
Those few simple, begging words are the green light the guy has been waiting for. A cue to fully penetrate her rear, spreading it open with a searing, heavy thrust. It doesn't matter that it's his first time—Yuna loves to fuck. She loves it in any position, anywhere, in any circumstance. Yuna was made to be fucked and tonight is no exception, that is a fact.
So the feeling of his heavy prick ramming her open, and the sweet, familiar burn that comes after sends Yuna into a total blissed-out state. Even though this is what Yuna was begging for, the thrusts are slow and inexperienced—her new living dildo seemingly afraid to hurt his favorite idol.
"Don't be gentle! Fuck me hard, deeper...please, please! Wreck my asshole!"
Those words are enough. They spur the young man into action, and instead of taking it nice and slow, Yuna feels her whole ass shuddering at the rapid pace her lover is now setting. It hurt. Oh God did it fucking hurt.
The kind of pain that leaves her feeling filled with the greatest pleasure. The kind of pain that reminds her that she's alive—not some brainless idol robot with an image to protect. Yuna is a woman with sexual needs and she's not afraid to admit them.
"Faster, don't stop. More, oh God yes!!" Yuna is spouting out all the right things and it's certainly having an effect. "Fuck me!" Her hands grope her perky ass cheeks, trying their hardest to keep them spread open for the fuckfest raging on in the depths of her backdoor.
Her insides felt great to her new partner, especially as he gets more adventurous and drives her over the edge of euphoria with a thrust here, a squeeze there. His hands are gripping her hips, driving his rock hard length further into her cavern.
It must have been such a fucking miserable sight. The third guy in the room ignored and forgotten, sporting a massive erection whilst sitting on the edge of a King sized bed. Yuna didn't even notice it, nor did the guy currently drilling her ass. But she definitely notices it when he lifts her head and presses his tip against her slightly parted lips. The action catches her off guard, almost. It's just a quick glance and a lust filled smirk, but the quick understanding between them has her open her mouth to swallow the intruding piece of flesh.
"You want me to suck your cock while I'm getting fucked in the ass?! What a joke!"
The man looks dejected. That is until Yuna licks her lips and flashes a coy smile. She shakes her head, waves of dark hair falling around her cheeks and onto her back.
"I'm not gonna suck it. But you can fuck my face. Spit roast me. Make me choke me on your cock, choke me as his big, hard dick fills my little asshole."
Yuna opens her mouth, her tongue laid flat and waiting to be invaded. There's an overwhelming desire to be filled from both ends, a carnal hunger. If that's what it takes for her to receive this much pleasure, then so be it. She just wants her holes stuffed, fucked hard until they're so worn, so well used that her mind blanks into total ecstasy.
Yuna sucks and moans and mewls as he's driving his cock down her throat. Any cries of pleasure from being torn apart from behind gets muffled and lost under the garbled and sloppy sounds of the face-fucking.
She takes his cock hungrily into her mouth, bobbing back and forth, not even worrying about the gagging sensations or the burning in her throat, or the spit dripping from her mouth, nor even her eyes beginning to water.
The taste, the scent—the full sensory overload from receiving both a full frontal assault on her gag reflex and a rump fuck all at once is driving her crazy. Her clit is swollen and sensitive, and everytime she shakes her ass to guide his cock deep inside, her clit brushes against the silk-soft sheets and tenses something tight and coils deep within her core.
It builds, tighter, hotter—and the wetness trickling out of her needy, untouched cunt only aids the thrusts from his eager tool.
Her whole body shakes and trembles. A total body orgasm as she's used and abused by two strangers, faceless tools for her sexual pleasure. They take her, use her, violate and violate, spanking and penetrating wherever they pleased.
And through it all she takes it with grace, glee, and happiness. The pain mixed in with the pleasure was intense. Overwhelming. Every time another palm cracks against her reddening cheeks, every time that she's choked and pounded harder, deeper, it leaves her begging for more. Every thrust from either end sends another surge of the hottest, fiercest tingling through her veins. Yuna's completely submerged into the moment, so lost within it. A cocktail of sheer masochism and perverted need to be nothing but an object for her boys' enjoyment.
Then it happens, with another hard thrust into her slutty backdoor, everything snaps—and Yuna screams into a prolonged, euphoric moan. She cums, and she cums hard. Her second one in such a short space of time. It's so intense—so overwhelming.
It takes a whole minute before the world starts to spin again, the rush and adrenaline is almost too much, the double penetration pushing the boundaries and making Yuna realize how she could die right here, right now, and still not care. She almost forgets she's an idol for a moment, the label seeming so alien and irrelevant as the rest of her facade disintegrates along with her mind and body, dissolving under a sea of pleasure. Slowly fading as her partner finally bursts with an eruption of hot, thick, cum, coating her insides, filling her ass until it can hold no more and starts leaking out onto her skin and the plushy fabric of the covers.
The constant moans of joy must have been too much for the man occupying her throat. Cuz shortly after her ass is stuffed full, so is her mouth, spurt after spurt, sending Yuna straight into an orgasmic daze.
It's incredible—such a heavenly, amazing, thrilling and powerful feeling of a double load pumped into both of her holes.
She swaps from feeling like an object, a fuck toy, something to be used and abused, to just Yuna. Yuna who craves pleasure, needs love, and wants a feeling of validation that she's doing her very best to fill up with constant sexual trysts and promiscuous nights. It doesn't work though, because she can never truly be satisfied. No man, no orgy, no gangbang has ever been enough, never even been close enough. But when it's all over, these times, these moments are what Yuna lives and breathes for.
There's four bodies on the bed, laid out and completely wrecked—Yuna, the man with the enormous cock that spread her anal walls, the man that got the handjob of a lifetime from none other than Yuna herself, and the forgotten dude who eventually got to fuck her throat. Yuna can barely see or talk after being ravaged, but even still she's smiling like the cat that got the cream—because in essence, she had three extra large creamy loads.
It's not enough, no amount of cock could ever satisfy Yuna, but this is good enough for tonight. Tomorrow brings another night. Another night to find a nice gentleman to stuff her pussy that was left unfulfilled, left on the verge, twitching and ready to burst. But tomorrow is a worry for the future—now is the time for rest and relaxation, for recovery.
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hi!! i really love your blog: i usually stay silent and only like the posts but i thought today should be the day i request something!
would you be open to write a social media au with lando Norris x y/n where the reader is a marine biologist? or a surfer? or something ocean-related lmao
feel free to disregard this request if you don’t like it or don’t have time!! xx
just add water | lando norris social media au
pairing: lando norris x fem reader
first fish ruined his appetite, now they steal his girlfriend?
yourusername
liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 103,451 others
tagged: landonorris
yourusername: perks of the job but back on shore i clock in to my full time job of missing lando
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user1: can we have the hair routine cause miss ma'am is in the sea every damn day and her hair is still healthier than mine
user2: REAL
landonorris: f1 is just my day job, talking about you is my passion and career
yourusername: babe even the whales in monterey bay know about you
landonorris: they better be mclaren fans
yourusername: eh i think i heard super max (whale edition) the other day
maxverstappen1: conquered all of f1 and the seven seas so real of me
landonorris: THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY'RE SAYING THE RISING OCEAN TEMPERATURES ARE FRYING THEIR BRAINS
yourusername: babe don't joke about that :(
landonorris: sorry :(
oscarpiastri: can you please come to the next race i may put my head through a wall if i have to watch this man go through his camera roll again RETELLING me all of the stories
yourusername: didn't realise we were so annoying 🧐
oscarpiastri: don't get me wrong you guys are cute but sometimes i wanna nap after practice in peace and not hear about whale shit
landonorris: i SEE HOW IT IS
alexalbon: no oscar is right i've heard about when had a baby seal on her surfboard about seven billion times
yourusername: HEY that was cute
user3: okay but lando could talk to ME about y/n's adventures
user4: i want to hear ALL of it for real
user5: lando and y/n podcast when?
alexalbon: do not give them ideas they’re already number one and two yappers in the international waffling championship
yourusername: yapper and proud 😤
landonorris: healthy relationship communications and boundaries? no. yappers? yes!
alexalbon: has anyone ever told you guys you’re annoying?
yourusername: yes 😃
user6: they’re so annoying i love them
landonorris
liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,209,451 others
tagged: yourusername
landonorris: does this girl own a pair of trousers? real question.
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user8: i actually don't think i've ever seen a man this down bad
user9: ALL men should aspire to be this whipped
yourusername: i wish you would join the no trouser revolution, give the girlies something to look at
user10: i agree
yourusername: okay back up babe that ass is all mine
landonorris: it's okay babe you can admire your (my) ass all the time if you come home PLS
yourusername: sorry babe the ocean doesn't sleep and the whales need me
landonorris: but i need you too :(
maxverstappen1: WAH WAH I'M SICK OF YOUR FUCKING WHINING
alexalbon: THANK YOU FINALLY
landonorris: erm why am i being victimised in my own comment section
maxverstappen1: you are doing my fucking nut in mate yeha i get you miss her but kinda your fault for having a cool gf with a cool job
yourusername: omg thanks 😊
landonorris: Y/N???
yourusername: babe no offence but he's a three time world champ i'm gonna take the compliment
landonorris: i guess so :(
user10: just one normal comment section, please that is all i ask for
oscarpiastri: maybe i should get on this whole j.peg business cause my photography is doing some heavy lifting here
yourusername: i didn't take you for a stunt queen miss rookie
landonorris: where is the peace, love and positivity ?? you guys are such haters
oscarpiastri: proudly
yourusername: no cool shells for you mr piastri
oscarpiastri: I TAKE IT BACK
landonorris: you people are such flip flops
yourusername
liked by georgerussell63, landonorris and 112,872 others
yourusername: i promise we do actually do work
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user14: why am i now considering a marine biology degree for a sick ass instagram feed
user15: and protecting the sanctity of ocean life?
user14: yeah sure throw that in there too?
landonorris: i hope you slapped the FUCK out of that stingray for steve irwin
yourusername: babe we all know violence is not the answer
landonorris: you said you'd break the knee caps of any driver that took me out?
yourusername: i do not recall this
landonorris: steve irwin is a national treasure, you should've done it for oscar
oscarpiastri: i'm sure it wasn't that exact stingray mate
landonorris: you don't know that
danielricciardo: i see you've forgotten about the other aussie you were teammates with ???
yourusername: i wouldn't have that if i were you daniel
landonorris: y/n??? you're meant to be on my side
yourusername: say sorry to larry and maybe i'll gang up on daniel with you
danielricciardo: Y/N???
landonorris: i'm sorry larry ... and daniel i guess ?
danielricciardo: if my hand weren't broken right now...
user16: okay i think lando is having y/n withdrawals
yourusername: his bitchiness is a symptom of separation anxiety
landonorris: sorry not sorry
user17: mclaren pr praying for y/n to come to a race soon
maxverstappen1: p says pretty please can she bagsy the pink shells?
yourusername: most definitely she can !! i'll even be on the look out for more
maxverstappen1: thank you y/n you're my favourite - p
yourusername: that's it i'm coming home rn
landonorris: am i a joke to you?
landonorris
liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 1,322,099 others
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landonorris: reunited and it feels so good oh and a double podium, pretty sweet
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user21: obsessed with how lando said that y/n is clearly his lucky charm and the "dumbass" ocean won't be getting his girlfriend back
user22: there's levels to hating and lando's level of hating on the ocean??
user23: his hatred of fish makes so much more sense right now
user24: either he hates anything to do with the ocean or y/n convinced him they deserve to live 😭
landonorris: i'll say it's number one but realistically it's two greatly helped by the fact that it tastes gross anyway
yourusername: I'M SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU
landonorris: i know hhehehehehehehe
yourusername: i love you stupid
landonorris: i love you too dummy
yourusername: as much as i enjoyed this race i am ready for home time (after karaoke, you promised me karaoke with yuki)
landonorris: AHAHAHAAH TAKE THAT OCEAN Y/N COMING HOME
alexalbon: bro has beef with the ocean 😭
georgerussell63: bro had to share his gf with WATER 😭
maxverstappen1: bro is being ... torn apart here KEEP GOING LOL
oscarpiastri: no keep going cause i just want a nap before debrief and some people are being WAY TOO LOUD
carlossainz55: i think that's probably why you guys are getting away with bullying the little goblin
user25: oscar out here just confirming that lando and y/n are ... for lack of a better word up to no good?
user26: y/n didn't lie when she called him a stunt queen
landonorris: i can't hear y'all LALALALALALA
yourusername: they hate us because they ain't us
landonorris: period 💅
user27: i hate (love) them your honour
yourusername
liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 419,034 others
tagged: landonorris
yourusername: so he had the whole proposal planned out but got a bit too excited at suzuka ... if anyone asks we got engaged on a boat in the mediterranean not in his driver's room. aside from that, HOLY FUCK I AM ENGAGED TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE I LOVE YOU LANDO I CAN'T WAIT FOR FOREVER
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user30: HOLY 😭 FUCKING 😭 SHIT 😭
landonorris: can we agree on no more like three month placements pretty please?
yourusername: baby the whales need me
landonorris: i need you more FIANCE :(
yourusername: gosh you are convincing, no more retreats for more than a month
landonorris: yay !!
yourusername: you need to put up more shelves for our shells though
landonorris: on it, i love you (i'm calling my dad to do it)
yourusername: i love you too baby
danielricciardo: enchante tease on the engagement post and for free ??? love you two
yourusername: at least you have the prettiest model ever for it
landonorris: I'M BLUSHING
danielricciardo: i'll deal with this because i'm happy for you two
mclarenf1: double podium and an engagement, suzuka really delivered this year
oscarpiastri: i guess i take back my comments about being loud in the drivers room... i'm so happy for you guys you deserve it
landonorris: ahaha i knew you were a softy really pastry boy
yourusername: i always knew you loved us really oscar, you're just sassy and we respect that
landonorris: .... sure
maxverstappen1: did he propose at sea in one final power move over his arch nemesis the ocean?
yourusername: have you considered he did it at sea because i'm a marine biologist and i love it out there and he loves me?
maxverstappen1: well now i look like an asshole
landonorris: the sea 0 - 1 lando
yourusername: lando 😭
user31: well this has all been a rollercoaster
fin.
note: i've been kinda mia on here and i'm super sorry this request has taken so long lol. wanted to get this out now though cause lando had a horrid day today but i'm glad he's okay !! enjoy, i'm in my second week of a job so might get less busy xx
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#f1 social media au#lando norris insta au#lando norris x you#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris
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first date movies — neil lewis x reader
word count: 2.9k (oops this was….way longer than i thought)
contains: SMUT (18+ ONLY) —> fingering, oral (m receiving), public indecency (getting it on in a movie theater because…it’s neil), fluff, happy ending!
you have a crush on your coworker and you really wish you didn’t.
note: this has not been proofread so place excuse any typos! i hope you enjoy especially since this is my first smut fic on this account which is insane. also all of the movies referenced are some of my favorites so…..i’d absolutely recommend them if you haven’t seen them already! neil is my silly little movie buff husband and i’d absolutely LOVE to write for him again so please leave some feedback if you’d like more!
cillian taglist: @mortylover
As you stood on a step stool, shelving new video arrivals, you could hear Ingrid Bergman's lovely Swedish accent behind you.
Notorious. You'd seen it a million times but you'd never gotten sick of it. It was your favorite Hitchcock and often the movie you'd throw on if you were in need of comfort. Although it was your turn to pick what everyone watched at the video store today, you weren't sitting with everyone else on the big worn out sofa. You preferred to shelve and enjoy the sound of the movies in the background (maybe walking over when your favorite scene was on). After all, someone needed to help the customers even if you didn't have many.
You had an annoying habit of reciting movie lines that you loved, as did Neil, the owner of the store and one of your closest friends.
"This is a very strange love affair," you said with Ingrid as you placed Valley of the Dolls in its right place.
"Why?" Neil said right along with Cary Grant, glancing over at you.
"Maybe the fact that you don't love me," you shot him a dramatic look, trying to do your best Ingrid Bergman impression.
"Your Bergman should be better for someone who's seen this movie more times than she can count," he said.
You rolled your eyes.
"She's got a unique accent! Plus it's very transatlantic. That's hard."
"She can do the Fargo accent," your other coworker Jonathan pointed out, not bothering to look up from the TV.
"Oh, you betcha," you grinned, nailing the unmistakable Minnesotan "o" sound.
"That's not hard!" Neil protested.
"It's not easy!"
The doors jingled as your best friend walked through the door, cutting the discussion about accents short. Before you could even say anything she already had a request.
"First date movie. Help."
You thought for a minute.
"Well what's the person like?"
"I don't know! I haven't met him yet. This is a blind setup by a coworker thing."
"Do you....think you'll be paying attention to the movie?"
She made a face.
"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"
"Not necessarily! You could be....talking."
After many failed dates with guys who were into film, you understood the complexities of picking the first date movie. It said a lot about a person — what they're into, how they feel, who they aspire to be. But at the end of the day, it needs to be something that can transition to being background noise for a good make out session while still being enjoyable. Very few movies check all of those boxes.
"Just don't give me anything too complicated, okay?" she sighed. "No Lynch. No Cronenberg."
You fake frowned. "I was just gonna rent Crash and Lost Highway to you as a double feature."
She shuddered as she remembered the horror that was watching both of those films. You could stomach things like that but she absolutely couldn't.
"Okay, sit tight. I have a thought," you said as you ran over to the romances.
Your friend wandered over to the TV while you hunted for her perfect first date movie.
"Hey guys," she said monotonously.
"Hey," they replied equally unenthused.
She stood and watched the movie for a minute before you came back holding Moonstruck.
"Cher. Nic Cage. Romantic. Easy to follow. It checks every box!"
"That's your idea of a first date movie?" Neil scoffed.
"What's yours? The Seventh Seal?" you rolled your eyes.
"Yeah, that's why Denise broke up with him," Jonathan replied.
"What? You didn't tell me that!"
"Well it kind of just happened," he said. "And to be honest I'm not so broken up about it."
After knowing Neil a while, you knew that he wasn't one for consistent steady girlfriends. Denise lasted longer than most, but in the end he always seemed to get bored. Sure, he got around to an extent, but it was hard for you to picture Neil Lewis truly settling down. Unless, of course, you pictured him with you — but you tried not to do that. The thought popped into your brain every once in a while but you pushed it out as soon as it arrived. You knew you'd only end up getting hurt.
"Okay, well that's good because I was wondering if you wanted to go to the movies tonight. I mean, I'm all for a good ol' post breakup pity party but I'd much rather go see The Thing on the big screen tonight."
You and Neil did your part to keep your local independent theater in business more than anyone else in town. It was a regular thing for the two of you to go see at least two movies a week, sometimes more. Sometimes Jonathan and Lucien would tag along and sometimes it was just the two of you — every time you secretly hoped that it would be just the two of you.
"Now that's a good first date movie," Jonathan said.
"The Thing for a first date?" you scrunched your nose into a face of disapproval. "You guys have no taste."
"Well good thing we're not going on a first date then," Neil said. "But yeah, I'll go with you, I'm not doing anything else. Wanna grab dinner and go straight there?"
Those words shouldn't have been such a dagger to you but they were. No shit, this wasn't a first date. He didn't need to remind you.
"Yeah, that's fine," you said, trying to mask the disappointment in your voice. "I just have a few more things to finish up here and then we can head out."
You helped your friend rent her movie and finished up your shelving duties with a little less pep in your step than usual as Neil's words played over and over again in your mind like a broken record.
Good thing we're not going on a first date then. Fuck him. It's not like he was trying to hurt you, after all he didn't know that you maybe kinda sorta liked him. But those words.....you just couldn't take your mind off of them as you mentally prepared yourself for your very clearly stated non-date.
—
A little diner by the local theater had been your spot with Neil for as long as you'd been coworkers. It had become a tradition of yours to sneak in mini bottles of booze to pour into the milkshakes, either on celebratory or wallowing in your sorrows occasions. Neil's breakup felt like a good excuse to give your shared vanilla shake deserved an extra kick, even if you were the one who really needed it.
"Is anyone looking?"
He shook his head as you poured the vodka into the glass, stirring the concoction with the straw. You didn't wait for Neil before placing your lips to the straw and downing a quarter of it all at once.
"Hey, take it easy. I thought I was the one who needed the alcohol tonight," he chuckled.
"You said it yourself, you're not upset about Denise," you said, the irritation in your voice shining through.
"Are you upset about something, then? I'm sorry I didn't really help you shelve today, I just- you know, you like to do that stuff by yourself sometimes. And you picked such a good movie I couldn't tear myself away from the screen."
It would've been easier if you had really been upset about that. You wished that you were upset about that And now half the shake was gone, everything you wanted to say was rushing to your head, and you didn't even think about what you were doing when you blurted out:
"Why can't this be a first date?"
His eyes widened as he let out a small chuckle, assuming you were kidding.
"What?"
"You heard me. Why can't this be a first date?"
As he stared back at you, you felt like you had just fucked everything up. This amazing friendship was just ruined now because you drank your boozy milkshake too fast.
"Do....do you want it to be?" he asked.
"Fuck!" you exclaimed before burying your head in your hands. "Forget I said anything. I-I drank that too fast."
"No, I....we can call this a date if you want. In fact I'd really like that."
He wasn't trying to humor you and he wasn't trying to make the situation better by saying something that he didn't mean — he was dead serious.
"Neil, don't say that if you don't mean it," you sighed. "I'm just....upset today. Don't listen to me."
He studied your face for a minute before speaking again.
"Do you remember when I interviewed you for your job?"
"Now what does that have to do with anything?"
You did, in fact, remember your Gumshoe interview very well. You had asked him if he'd ever considered doing a film noir themed commercial for the store and you'd never seen someone so excited about an idea before — you always assumed that was why you had gotten the job.
"I knew you before that, you know," he said. "I remembered you from when you used to be a customer. There was actually this one time when you had an overdue fee and I paid it for you and told the guys that I had lost the tape."
This made you smile a bit.
"Point being?"
He took a deep breath before he continued on.
"Normally when we do the interview process, we ask the same shit, you know? What's your favorite movie? Who's your favorite director? And I asked you that stuff even though I thought I already knew the answers, I remembered what you used to rent. I thought I knew you so well and then you just went totally fucking wildcard on me — and I loved it. Ever since then you've kept on surprising me and I....well, I really like that. I guess what I'm trying to say is I really like you. And I think I always have."
You stared at him wide-eyed. You had not expected your little drunken tantrum to get you a confession of feelings.
"Neil....do you know why I rented from Gumshoe all the time? I mean, I'm all for supporting the little guys, but I really went in to see you. And then I got this job and I got to know you and you weren't just the cute guy at the video store anymore, you were like....my cute friend/boss technically but I won't get into that. But I got to know you and I watched you go through all of these relationships because you get bored eventually and....I just think you might get bored with me. I'm no Katharine Ross in Butch and Sundance."
He shook his head as a smile crept across his lips.
"No, you're even more exciting than that. You're like...Barbarella or something. Queen of the galaxy."
"Barbarella's whole thing was sex appeal," you point out. "That's the whole movie."
"Sex appeal, sure. But she's also kind and interesting and witty. You've got all of that."
You took all of that as a compliment but you found yourself blushing at his mention of sex appeal.
—
When you arrived to the movie theater after finishing your meal, it seemed that you two were the only ones dying to see a John Carpenter flick on a Tuesday evening. You had your pick of seats in the empty theater.
Your non-date turned date couldn't have been going better, honestly, it made you think that you should turn to drinking more often. It fixed this problem miraculously well.
As you settled into your seats and the lights dimmed, it was clear that both of you wanted to make a move but didn't know how to do it. After all, you couldn't just go straight for unzipping his fly. Or could you? Tonight was all about confidence and he clearly liked it when you kept him on his toes. You decided to start slow, resting a hand on his thigh, letting your hand wander from there.
He looked over at you as you made contact with the bulge in his jeans. It was hard to read his expression in the dark, but you could feel that he didn't want you to stop.
"Are we really gonna do this here?" he whispered.
"We've both seen this a thousand times, I think it'll be okay if we get a little distracted," you whisper back. "U-unless you don't want—"
He cut you off with a kiss that was a long time coming. You were surprised by the sheer force of it as your tongues collided. His hand reached up to cup the side of your face as you melted into the kiss, illuminated by the glow of the silver screen. He made you feel dizzy, but in a good way.
Now, you had never been intimate in a movie theater before, but it was even more exhilarating than you could’ve imagined. As you slowly unzipped his fly, taking his length out of his jeans, you noticed that Neil wasn’t watching the movie at all. His eyes were completely focused on you.
“You’re really taking your time, aren’t you?” he whispered. He was rock hard already and you could tell that he was getting incredibly impatient. You held the base of him while you teased his tip with your tongue. Whatever composure he thought he had went out the window as he his eyes rolled back in pleasure. Based on his breathing patterns you thought he was going to come right then.
“Fuck,” he swore under his breath. “Just….just like that.”
You could feel him trembling as your tongue continued to work its swirly magic. Eventually you began to take him in your mouth completely, greeting him with the warm sensation of the back of your throat. He groaned out your name in a raspy whisper as you bobbed your head on his length. Before you knew it, you could feel a hand on your head guiding it along — his touch felt so intimate and loving, you couldn’t get enough.
“I-I’m close….I’m— fuck….I’m gonna—“
Before he could finish what he was going to say, you could feel his come coat the back of your throat. It was a warm, welcome feeling and you couldn’t wait to feel it again.
“Jesus christ,” he sat there catching his breath before turning to you. “That was….wow. You’re just…..I-Incredible.”
You smiled at the praise. It wasn’t even day that you were complimented on your blowjob skills.
Your head made its way to his shoulder as you sat side by side watching the movie. His hand began on your though but slowly because to creep it’s way up between your legs.
“Returning the favor?” you whispered, smiling softly as you glanced in his direction.
He nodded, speaking in a sultry whisper that nearly made your legs shake. “You know, you just made me feel so good….it would be a crime not to reciprocate it, don’t you think?”
You continued to rest your head on his shoulder as he slipped two fingers inside of you. You couldn’t help but notice how easily they went in — you had been soaked for hours.
“All this for me?” he chuckled. “How long have you been like this?”
“All night,” you said in between heavy breaths. “I-I’m always like this around you, Neil.”
“No way, are you really?”
His switch up from the sultry whisper to his excited tone made you giggle.
“I have….a tendency to daydream about you when I’m around you,” you explained.
His fingers found just the right spot as he continued to question you. It was becoming increasingly difficult for you to talk.
“Daydream about what specifically?”
A small whimper escaped your mouth as his fingers curled inside of you. You couldn’t even recall what you used to daydream about until it hit you.
“This…..this exact moment. I-I’ve….fuck….Ive daydreamed about this a m-million times.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked as he started to pump his fingers faster. “And how does it end?”
“I- Neil- I’m gonna—“
“How does it end, sweet girl? Tell me.”
You could barely even answer in between heavy breaths but you managed to speak up, your words intertwined with your moans.
“Y-you make….you make me come, N-Neil! I’m….right now, I’m—“
“Show me. Come for me. Show me how the daydream ends.”
And you did, trying your best to keep quiet as you came undone. You buried your face into his shoulder as you whimpered and throbbed against his fingers.
“Good girl,” he exhaled. “That’s a good girl.”
—
The next day at work, you and Neil debated what you should tell the others. To announce the relationship or keep it a secret was a heavily debated topic, but you eventually settled on keeping it to yourselves for a while before revealing it. You thought it would be nice to have something that was just yours for a while. Plus, hiding a relationship can be incredibly sexy.
As you walked into Gumshoe, you flashed a quick smile at Neil who was in his usual spot behind the counter before taking your place at the shelf.
“Hey, Jonathan,” you called over to the couch, getting his attention. “I was totally wrong. Upon my rewatch, I think that The Thing would be a great first date movie.”
“See, I told you! I told you and you never fucking listen to me,” he said. “What made you change your mind?”
You glanced over at Neil one more time. It was clear that he was thinking about last night just as much as you were.
“I don’t know…” you shrugged. “Maybe it’s Kurt Russell.”
#cillian murphy x reader#neil lewis x reader#cillian murphy smut#I HOPE YOU ENJOY MY DARLINGS!! mwah!!!
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True, But My Bed Is Closer
Summary: Christian struggles to find the right words when asking you to stay over for the first time.
Pairing: Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader
Requested: Nope - but the idea comes from something @pulisicsgirl said yesterday 🫶🏻
Warnings: fluff, pre-established relationship, neighbour x neighbour, sommelier!reader, consumption of alcohol, talks of alcohol, i'm not a sommelier and far from ever being a wine expert so if something is wrong just ignore it, not edited, rushed ending
Notes: i don't know what this is and truth be told, i don't like the ending 🫣 anyway, hopefully you enjoy it. feedback is always appreciated and requests are open
"That can't be true."
"And I'm telling you it is," you reply, dropping your hands into your lap, "remember, which one of us is the expert here?"
Christian shakes his head, laughing light-heartedly as he reaches for the bottle of wine. The bottle was stained black, the type that came with a cork, and the label was printed in gold lettering. The company's logo stood out to him the most when he was trying to find the right bottle. It resembled a wax stamp, with a crest printed in the centre. He topped off both of your glasses, emptying the bottle of its very last drop, before passing you your glass.
"Cat pee?" He watches you take a sip, subtly glancing at your mouth as you lower your glass and lick your lips. "I don't believe you."
"Okay, maybe I've exaggerated a little, but-" A giggle bubbles in the back of your throat as you watch him playfully roll his eyes. "-but-! It did smell like cat piss." You take another sip, scrunching your nose as you remember the smell.
"And people liked it?"
You nod your head, cradling the glass between your hands. "It won awards."
"Do I even dare to ask how much a bottle of 'Le Cat Pee' costs?" Christian asks, draping his arm over the back of his couch, turning himself to face you. He kept his glass steady in his other hand, occasionally lifting it to take a sip.
"Not unless you want me to phone for an ambulance because you've gone into cardiac arrest." His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, a droplet of wine dribbling down his chin as he takes a sip. You pretend you don't see it, hiding your smile behind your glass. "It's not the most expensive wine on our list though," you mumble, taking a quick sip, "we have bottles on that list that cost nearly a thousand euros, if not more, and there a people who are far too happy to pay for them. Sometimes I want to tell them they're stupid for buying bottles that expensive, but you know what they say, the customer is always right."
"Jeez," he blows out hot air and nods to the bottle at his side, "and I thought I was paying too much for that bottle."
You set your glass down on his coffee table, making sure to rest it carefully on the coaster and replace it with the empty bottle. You knew about the company that made it, even visited the vineyard where the grapes grew last summer, when you wanted to introduce more local wines to the list. You and Eva, a waitress with a bubbly personality who always wore bright pink lipstick, and aspired to be a sommelier, had spent the afternoon touring the vineyard with the owner's eldest son, Edoardo, quickly getting tipsy on samples of wine and giggling at Edoardo's terrible jokes.
It was a family-run business, spanning back multiple generations, making it perfect for a family-run restaurant. But the owner's oldest thought differently, putting an end to your idea before it could even be considered.
"The labels are all made by machines now," you say, sitting the bottle back down, "but, originally, they used to put actual wax stamps on the bottles."
He chuckles, running his thumb delicately over the curve of your shoulder, drifting up the base of your neck. "Of course, you know that."
"Sorry," you apologise, looking down at your lap, "sometimes I can't turn it off." You knew not everyone cared about the history of wine, no matter how fascinating you thought it to be.
"Don't." He dips, kissing your shoulder and then your neck, breathing in the sweet sugary scent of your perfume, before drawing back to look at you. There was a slight red tinge to your bottom lip from the red wine you had been drinking. He was itching to reach out and run his thumb against it, but settled for leaning his head against his hand instead. "I like it." You give him a shy smile. "You're too smart for the likes of me."
"Oh, I don't know," you shrug your shoulders, glancing up at him, "you're pretty smart too."
"I'm pretty," he cracks a joke, making you giggle, "but I don't know if I'm smart too."
"Seriously?" You snort. "I've been here two years, Christian, and I make a fool of myself every time I try to speak Italian. Just the other week, I think I offered a threesome to a man and his wife." You scrunch your face and groan, remembering it like it had happened yesterday.
Christian had to agree, laughing quietly under his breath. You had as much grace with the Italian language as an elephant did performing ballet.
"But you've been here, what, eight or nine months and it's already like your seventh spoken language."
"Fourth spoken language," he corrects, putting his glass aside to take your hand. He slips his fingers through yours, his chest swelling when you squeeze around them. "But who's even counting?"
He lifts your joined hands and kisses the back of your hand, his lips lingering against the warmth of your skin, before lowering them a second later. A chance encounter on the stairs seven months ago had led to what was probably the best four months of his life. And you couldn't agree more.
You never thought you find someone who you could trust after the messy relationship you had with your ex, James, but Christian had yet to prove he wasn't worthy of that trust. He listened to you when you talked, clung to every word you had to say, made you laugh, made you smile, but importantly he made you feel seen.
"Did you always know you wanted to be a sommelier?"
You shake your head. "No, I didn't even know it was a thing until I was like nineteen. I wanted to own and manage a hotel."
He looked surprised. "Seriously?"
You pull your joined hands onto your lap, using your free hand to trace lines on the back of his hand. "My dad was a concierge and, even though it wasn't allowed, he'd sometimes take me to work with him. To a six-year-old, that hotel lobby was like paradise."
He watched your eyes light up as you recounted the memories of dressing up in parts of an old uniform, standing next to your dad as he greeted guests. The sleeves were always too long for your arms and the hat kept falling into your eyes, but it never stopped you from trying to copy your dad. Growing up, all your friends wanted to be a pop star or an athlete, but you just wanted to be like your dad.
"I would make myself dizzy in the revolving doors, run up and down the giant staircase, terrorise the grouchy receptionist," you giggle, your smile softening as you spoke about your dad again, "But, when it was time to leave, my dad would pick me up onto his hip and he would always say, 'Bug, one day, I'll have a hotel much grander than this.'"
"Bug?"
Your face flushes and you present him with a smile. "Yes, Bug."
"So?" He lifted his head off his hand and stretched his arm back across the couch. "Did your dad get his hotel?"
He fakes a gasp. "My girlfriend is a dropout?"
"No," you shake your head, "he got ill, so he took early retirement instead; he and Mum have just finished their second cruise. He now wants to visit as many countries as he can, dragging my poor mother with him." You release his hand and reach forward for your glass, taking a sip. "So, anyway, I decided I'd go to uni, maybe try and get a degree in hotel management. But by the end of the first year, I realised I no longer shared the same dream as my dad."
"Your-?" You wipe your mouth, nearly spitting a mouthful of wine back into your glass. He had caught you off guard, calling you his girlfriend. "Uh, yes," you decide not to fuss over it, "your girlfriend is a dropout."
"So, let me guess," he shuffles closer, bumping his knee against yours, "you backpacked your way through Europe, where you fell madly in love with some guy you met in France - no, Amsterdam - who wore sandals and rode a bicycle?"
"Not even close," you giggle, taking another sip, thinking that would've been more fun than having to deal with George. "I moved back home, got a job in a restaurant and hoped I'd wake up one day knowing what I was meant to do."
You tell him about the first sommelier you had met, a tall, lanky fifty-something-year-old man, with thinning, white hair and a constant smell of whiskey on his breath. At best, he was a functioning alcoholic, who snuck quick swigs of whatever was open behind the bar when no one was looking. He slacked heavily on his duties, sometimes showing up to work halfway through the dinner service. And when he did show up, he snapped at the waiters for offering customers the wrong wines.
"One night, we were serving a brand new menu, just trialling out a few new dishes, and George never showed. He wasn't answering his phone and none of us had the time to go by his apartment, so I did the next best thing - I broke into his locker."
Christian tilted his head, stifling a laugh. "That was the next best thing?" He challenges you. "To break into someone's locker?"
"He kept his notebook in there," you explain, leaning over to set the glass back down, the last bits of wine swirling around the bottom, "except his handwriting was terrible, even worse than yours, and I had to guess most of the pairings. I did the best I could with what I had. The night was still a mess, and George got me fired for damaging his property, but I liked it." There it was again, Christian noted, as the same light from earlier twinkled in your eyes. "I liked slipping into the role of a sommelier, trying to bullshit the customers the best that I could. It was fun."
He slipped his arm around your waist and caught a glimpse of his watch, his chest sinking when he saw how late it was. "I'm glad you found your thing," he mumbles, pushing the sadness down. He brushed his lips gently against your hairline, humming as you leaned into him.
"So am I," you agree, not wanting to imagine your life without a hundred different bottles of wines all bouncing around your head.
You prided yourself on knowing the difference between a white wine from France and one from Italy. You liked being able to tell people about the grape that was used to make the wine they were drinking, even if they particularly didn't care. You knew red wine went best with a stake, that sparkling wine went best with fried seafood, and that champagne was once much lighter and pinkish in colour.
You were a nerd for all things wine related and you loved it.
You loved that it brought you to Milan and that Milan brought Christian to you.
Christian looks back at his watch, the soft ticking acting as a reminder that your time together was coming quickly to an end. Soon Christian would be leaving for Texas, taking him away from Milan for a week or so, and you would be leaving for a two-week stay in Inverness to help an old friend plan an event for some prestige wine society.
"It's getting late..."
"I know," you sigh, tipping your head back to look at him, "but I guess it's a good thing I only live across the hall." You stay rooted to your spot and Christian shows no signs of getting up. "Means I don't have far to travel," you whisper, drumming your fingers against your lap.
"True," he hums, settling his hand on top of yours, bringing your drumming fingers to a halt, "but my bed is closer."
Your mouth opened and closed, a broken hum and an, "oh," being all you could muster up.
"Shit-!" You watch as he scrunches his nose, the peeks of his cheeks quickly turning an embarrassing shade of pink. "I'm sorry," he groans over the giggle that slipped past your lips, your hand flying up to quickly catch it. "I swear that sounded a lot better in my head," he nervously laughs, turning to look at you, "I didn't mean to just blurt it out like that."
"It's okay," you nod your head, giving him a small smile, "and technically you are right; your bed is closer than my apartment."
He tries not to smile too much, playing it off as calmly as the fluttering in his chest would allow. "Yeah?" His voice cracks, but saves himself with a quick cough. "You sure? What if you find out I'm a terrible sleeper or that I snore too loudly?"
You shrug your shoulders and reach for the last of your wine. "Who's to say I won't be the one snoring loudly?"
He chuckles, picking up his glass and polishing off what remains, using his knuckle to wipe the corner of his mouth clean. "No, you don't look like a snorer," he says, resting his head back against his hand, "you look more like a talker. I'll probably wake up to you talking about wax stamps on wine bottles." You smile at him for remembering your silly little wine fact. "Do you want to open another bottle or...?"
You shake your head, feeling like you had hit your wine limit for the night. Any more and you might just consider turning this night into a night of firsts and not just a first.
"Then do you want to go to bed?" He asks, taking your glass and discarding it with his to the coffee table.
"I would love that."
Football Taglist: @thoseboysinblue @kickinganddriving @lizzypotter14 @brasiliangp @chilwellspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @masonsrem @landoslover @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @spicysainz @kathb59 @emcv1427 @gagaslonina @afterpills @pulisicsgirl @ricciardhoe3
#christian pulisic#christian pulisic imagine#christian pulisic fluff#christian pulisic one shot#christian pulisic blurb#christian pulisic fanfic#christian pulisic fic#christian pulisic x reader#christian pulisic x you
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Chip was pulled from the hole in the sea, where the ocean turned black and rotten- he climbed out and stayed alive, and the only thing on his mind for the next decade of his life was based around going back into it.
NOW. CHIP JRWI. *Poking him with a ten foot pole* What has made you so special?
This man basically bases this one, sole aspiration that has plagued him his entire life around himself wanting some form of closure and to save Arlin I guess- but when you compare that desire to the voices whispering "Welcome home." to Chip, over 100 episodes in, as they finally get to the hole in the sea, as Chip re-enters that impossible, vapid whirlpool that threw his life so off kilter to begin with? THIS MAN IS AN ORPHAN. THIS MAN IS A BASTARD. BY NATURE YES- FUNNY HAHA- BUT AS A FACT, TOO: HE IS A BASTARD. HE HAS NO PARENTS. And by assumption, maybe his mother/father left him for someone to find.
I'VE CONNECTED THE DOTS. I'VE CONNECTED THEM.
Anyway though, I have no idea- some theories but it's mostly just very interesting to me to think about.
Yall know that post that talks about pirates slaying a sea beast for a treasure chest, but inside is actually the baby it's been protecting??? *Cough* Chip JRWI. *Cough* It wants him back. *Cough cough*
Hmmmmmm, but who is the voice? Not sure if it was mentioned in the episode, but I'm guessing it's multiple- which is giving other undead (like him rn ohhhh lord, I am sad tbh) but also they can breathe under there??? Which means it wouldn't have been totally impossible to survive down there for a while- but I think the main question is how he got there.
Moving on because I have many thoughts not enough attention span to write them all down- my original point was actually gonna be more about the fact that he left this black hole, escaped death alive, the cold grabbed for him and he ran away to be so warm and so alive, lighting matches and leading riots.
And he swept away a soldier from the overseas, threw her life for a loop- earnt himself a sister, a best-friend, a co-captain, descendant of the sun, godliness flowing through her veins, golden light spilling from her eye, wings of a bird, a show of her freedom, of her vow to fight for what's right- not that he knew any of that when he first met her, he took her in because he knew together they could become something more.
And he held his hand out to an exiled hero from the undersea, another ex-soldier, lost on the path his destiny always promised was straight- Chip earnt himself the best kiss of his life, a best-friend, a co-captain, child of the moon goddess, wielding destiny's blade, trained to be the saviour of his people, cast out for doing what he knew was right, the chosen one, learning to live, holding a new vow, to protect, save those in need- and now Gillion's favourite colour is brown and Chip can speak to the sword only linked to the triton.
They're the sun and the moon, and the sky and the sea. And chip is the eclipse as they're brought together. Chip is the earth warmed by the rising sun and coloured by the water as he soaks them both in.
Yet Chip is welcomed home where the sun cannot reach. Chip is welcomed home where the sea is punctured and left dry.
#Chip Bastard#Jay Ferin#Gillion Tidestrider#Albatrio#Chip JRWI#Jay JRWI#Gillion JRWI#JRWI#Just Roll With It#JRWI Riptide#The Riptide Pirates#Fnc#I am a Fnc truther I won't lie to you rn guys
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are the 2099 comics THAT bad in terms of racism plus other weird writing choices??? i'm starved for miguel content and would like to read the original comic run but i keep seeing the debate of the original comics being problematic and/or downright just BAD bad (not to mention miguel is supposed to have mexican heritage but he's straight up a white redhead lol)
Some people may disagree but speaking as a latinx writer; it's bad because it is racist, yes! On multiple fronts!! And beyond that, it's also bad as a complete failure of comics structure and compelling narrative.
Longpost, on readmore;
I say this as a long-time capeshit reader, as politely as possible: Miguel's comics are a *paycheck* book. As in; a series a writer does monthly to be paid for it, but with middling aspirations and downright negative characterization depending on where their mood is.
The first few issues of his 1992 run are relatively complete and well-balanced, may even trick you into thinking this story is going somewhere; but that's only because they're the /character pitch./ Ill skip to the end and tell you upfront. That 1992 series ends with the implosion of the whole "2099" line of comics (an universe that included other books, like ghost rider, doom, etc, by other writers) due to dwindling public interest and mass cancellations. The end of that run is basically meaningless, since the whole thing got retconned - and even before that a guest writer had came in and made mistaken character reveals pdavid wasnt happy with and wanted to erase before the finale. The event book that wrapped up that universe was unironically, literally called -- "2099: Manifest Destiny."
Now, I don't like Peter David's writing. I think he's obsessed with the idea of building harems out of his female characters (when he's not fridging them, or making them act ~crazy~ to further alienate them from the protagonist) and it is the kind of grueling, joyless reading experience I can only describe as making you feel Oily Inside. This goes as far as multiple stalking plotlines, the inclusion of a guest appearance from AU s/x slaver Hulk in later years, Miguel's mother being strongly implied to have been forced into conceiving him by his real dad who's the evil CEO of alchemax, general torture painporn. His broader supporting cast is so interchangeable and disposable that they were literally disposed of.
In terms of the racism; I have mentioned how he uses cultures as tokens and does 0 research whatsoever. The way it feels and the way it is deployed is through a lens of Exoticism - tourism. Miguels suit is allegedly "a dia de los muertos costume" b/c pdavid seems to think that holiday is mexican halloween. In the orig book, you'll see plenty of broken japanese and stereotypical orientalist caricatures - after killing his first love interest, pdavid introduces a japanese girl who is unironically, literally named "Xina" (that pretends to be chinese on occasion) to fill in the vacant role. Miguel himself falls right into all the usual latino stereotypes — short tempered, drug addict, sex magnet "latin lover" (this last one also applied to his brother Gabriel, who for the longest time is characterized by just Going Through A Lot Of Girlfriends). And it's kind of insane bc he's still being drawn as a deeply deeply white man, but not even that takes off the burden of the racial microagressions!!! They're the only times pdavid seems to remember that heritage! Then there's the commemorative hanging page. Since you mention the redheadedness; thats another insane thing to me. He has 0% of irish in him. His dad is Blond. Who is this man?
Most of the info in the 2099 run is either revealed to be a lie midway thru (miguel is not mr o'hara's son, nor addicted to rapture) or completely retconned away to be rewritten in new runs. Different writers have tried to come in and do miguel in other team/event books but frankly nothing stands out and most of them get marked as alternate-miguels. Unfortunately, every time marvel decided to give another shot at spider-man 2099 they also brought pdavid back. The newer books were never a success, and theyre just as filled w/ the garbage i mentioned earlier (wow! Steampunk spider-woman is given to pdavid for *ONE* issue and instantly tonguekisses gabriel before leaving, so novel. More fridging ensues. Stalking. Etc.) 2099 as an *universe* has been retconned so many times Nothing is consistent and Nothing is set on stone and frankly i think they should make it an AU separate from main canon and build a whole new world already.
The art in the 2015 + runs consists mostly of tracing, and more of that oily weird feeling applied to fem chars. Perhaps you have noticed in this entire hate review have never once spoken about Miguel's heroic plots and memorable villains --- he has none. At least nothing I can remember or distinguish. (Interchangeable, disposable, etc) There is a vague inkling of "this is an anti-stabilishment spiderman, he fights against The Public Eye, the Corporation Cops!" at the start but much like his cultural illiteracy pdavid has no real insightful politics commentary, so that dissolves into the background in time. Its all buzzwords. All of his plotlines are solved in circuitous or soap operaish extradrama ways; and while some of this is present in other superhero comics, what stands out to me MOST is how utterly fucking joyless Miguel's comics are. It's like going through a slog on obligation. They genuinely gave me a headache every time.
ATSV does a great job of reinventing Miguel and rebuilding the parts of him that showed real promise. Being a different tone-swapped spiderman, futuristic, being more on the tech-science side of crime fighting. Him being a single dad with a daughter is also new. (And he is single! There is no singular mention of marriage or a wife anywhere, he's a geneticist, multiple spider-men we see in this movie were literal clones made in tubes - i am fond of the idea he's a transmasc dad but even if you think he's cis he could have made that baby himself. Adoption is also always there.) I think its very clear ATSV didn't want to bring any of pdavids major weird shit w fem chars to the big screen on the hopes that miguel gets rebooted eventually. I think he's gay. Nobody can prove me wrong.
On that note, Steve Orlando (queer writer, also wrote for DC's midnighter/apollo) did some of the latest 2022/2023 Miguel miniseries. Another reboot! Those were "2099: Exodus" and "Spider-man 2099: Dark Genesis" - i think its campier/trying to tackle superhero plots more head on and trying to do something wide wacky cast focused at Marvel's personal request, but Miguel's future is very up in the air rn. I do really hope they reboot him into something closer to ATSV with latines at the center soon.
What I always reccomend for people curious abt miguel: read his first 3ish 1992 issues, get a general feel and close the book as soon as you feel annoyed. It won't get better. Remember none of it is canon nor has been relevant in over two decades. If you want to know the wider context of his messy chronology, check out some of the 2099 "all comics" type of youtube videos, theres some pretty easy to digest summarizations if u dont wanna waste ur time reading stuff that just got retconned again lol. Most writers now are operating on vibes and that is a freedom you should also allow yourself in your own fanwork.
Putting his panels out of context can be very funny though. (For further curiosity or tangents, there's always my meta tag)
#meta tag#asks#miguel o'hara#miguel ohara#spiderman 2099#spiderverse#spider man: across the spider verse#atsv#my spider stuff#atsv miguel#miguel atsv#marvel comics#spiderman#itsv#2099
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So this is a bit random but:
Dream as the hero in a Greek tragedy and Hob as an Arthurian knight.
Thoughts?
(You obviously don’t have to answer if this is stupid or you don't want to)
If I may riff a bit on this, since I don't exactly have a pre-made answer (it's not a line of inquiry I've really considered), I'd say this:
Dream is absolutely a Greek tragedy protagonist. He thinks of himself that way, he's written that way. A major, indeed central, characteristic of Greek tragic heroes is that their virtues in some situations become their ultimate downfall. No one is dying in a Greek tragedy because they're inherently bad or failed people. It is the essence of that Picard line, "It's possible to do everything right and still lose. That's not failure, that's life."
Dream's dedication to his duty is an incredibly familiar virtue for a Greek tragic figure. It is also the virtue that will lead to his eventual end (in this incarnation). At least, in the comic. We'll see in the show if that's the case, and I have my suspicions based on the story's structure that we'll be seeing some deviation or, at the very least, a more optimistic spin on Dream's end.
Neil certainly wrote Dream to be a figure from a Greek Tragedy too, ironic considering he's also the "deus ex machina" in other situations, being literally a creature of godlike (or superior) power.
As for Hob as an Arthurian figure.... I'm less convinced. And I have a lot of reasons why because I think a lot about Hob's relationship, or lack thereof, with the tropes of knighthood as explored in both canon and fanon.
Let me quickly say that for fanon, sure, absolutely. I've seen incredible, complex, lovely takes on Hob as a Questing Knight or suffering the throes of textbook courtly love (more on that in a second, because I do find that part at least plausible) or otherwise being a gallant and heroic figure.
However, this is fanon. Canon Hob is certainly made more romantic, and I mean much more romantic by the show with the whole missed 1989 meeting and Ferdie's inherent and overwhelming charm. But comic Hob is... hmm, let's say he also has his charm but he's deliberately quite rough, quite crass, more than a bit dim at times, and the furthest thing from protagonist let alone romantic hero material. I think comic Hob would laugh, perhaps a bit wistfully, at the very idea of being an Arthurian figure. Certainly the Hob of "Sunday Mournings" (the Ren Faire comic issue) would be outright derisive of the notion of himself as a romantic figure or a questing knight.
Hob bought his knighthood. I think it's something that bears remembering: he bought it.
(Let me very briefly aside say, as a grubby Yankee myself, I actually find his audacity and sort of "Ha! I got away with it!" humor in that moment incredibly charming. Fuck yeah, stick it to the nobility! Fuck aristocracy, fuck nobility, and fuck aristocratic mythology like Arthuriana that reinforces those power structures. Good for Hob being a peasant who bought his knighthood, something that would be all but unthinkable in the grand sweep of Arthuriana, which for all its romanticism is still pretty definitive about everyone belonging in their social place.)
Anyway, Hob bought his knighthood with money he made getting into early English shipping and with money made from being on the right side of Henry VIII dissolving the monasteries (which were corrupt but were also one of the only forms of social services available to common people at the time, it's an incredibly complex issue) and Hob is as unbothered by the moral quandaries of this as he was the moral quandaries of being a soldier or a bandit. Hob is the furthest thing from being a Galahad. I'm not sure he could even aspire to Lancelot at his lowest on Hob's very best of days. He's just not built like that that we see.
At least, until 1989.
Now, as I've noted elsewhere, Hob's story is fundamentally altered by this ever so minor change in the show of making him still in England in 2022, still presumably waiting for Dream about a block away from the White Horse! Now, this is some courtly love shit right there! My jaw dropped when I began to map out the implications, not just of his waiting but of his becoming a history teacher.
Comic Hob never became a history teacher. Comic Hob seems all but allergic to romanticism and nostalgia. Comic Hob's highest moment of romanticism is wondering what exists in the depths of the ocean and thinking that maybe reincarnation possibly exists.
1989 changes everything. Actually, we even have evidence that in the comic timeline, Hob wasn't even in England by, what, 1992 when Dream passes away? He's in America with Gwen and they've been dating for a bit when she takes him to the Ren Faire, which is the day after Dream died. This implies that Hob doesn't usually stick around England like he does in the show timeline. If that wasn't already clear from the fact that most of his professions throughout the glimpses we see seem to involve maritime trade (sometimes of the very worst sort). The guy is constantly on the move but he stayed in England for Dream for over 30 years.
So there, at least, I think we have the first tendrils of something for fandom to grip onto that Hob does have the potential within him to go on a 30 year quest for his lost love, which is very Arthurian. I think even Hob would be perhaps shocked at himself for this, perhaps alongside becoming a history professor, finally coming to grips perhaps with the history he's seen, learning to care about it, learning that there's more to himself than he thought.
Because Hob is a weird immortal. He doesn't do the things we expect immortals to do, like learn from his mistakes and become some sort of avenging superhero, or even accumulate enough money to not need to have a day job any more, to just utterly detached from normal human life. Instead, he seems to stay grounded in a normal middle class life for whatever era he's in (barring disaster or windfall) and just happen to stick at it longer than anyone else by virtue of his immortality. It's so bizarre in the most fascinating way, it's why I'm obsessed with him, because he stays so grounded in his time period and not in any sort of special superhero way.
But 1989 really brings into sharp relief that there is an element of courtly love to how he interacts with Dream, the Beatrice to his Dante, this figure who inspires him, whom he waits for, whom he changes for (even when Dream himself perhaps doesn't believe himself capable of change?).
There I think there's something to the notion of Hob as, perhaps, a budding figure of courtly love, if not full Arthuriana knighthood.
But more intriguing and, if I may presume, what I think you're perhaps getting at with all of this is: could Hob's Questing Knight perhaps in some way disrupt Dream's Greek Tragic fate?
Well, it's not really possible in either of those genres played straight but, in the original canon, Hob didn't wait 33 years for Dream to come home to him.
So really, in the most optimistic way I'd say, anything is possible.
#dreamling#the sandman#a couple of glasses of sake in I have no idea if this is anything but I hope y'all enjoy#hob gadling#sandman meta
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can i ask how youre able to make so many comics or if you have any tips for aspiring internet funny comic makers? your gag comics are always so creative and funny and well-executed, and your longer form stuff is just a delight to read, i would love to know if u have any advice/insight into yr process
I'm not good at advice so you will have to bear with me here. Also I'm putting it under a readmore cause images make it into a long post. The like first 3/4th of this I talk about specific comics I did, but if you scroll to the end I tried to give some general advice.
My stuff is unfortunately very inspiration-based as opposed to planning-based. So my process might not be helpful if you're looking for something structured... The first thing I should say is I write down basically anything that pops into my head ever. I have a bunch of nonsensical tumblr drafts,
I have stuff in my phones notes app,
I have pages and pages of papers and post-it notes littering my apartment (if you want to know the extent, my sister asked me how I could live with my apartment being so "messy". The only messy thing in it is my papers scattered about). I find the paper stuff the best, because I can draw instead of just writing down concepts.
This is the page I did for the comic about Stan "comforting" Dipper over his unrequited crush on Wendy. (The tumblr version being here)
You will notice aside from the order on the page being strange and some scratched out dialogue, there's not really evidence of a 'plan' here. That's because I was just drawing this as I was thinking it. You will also notice there are two random unrelated Ford drawings in the middle of the page. That's because I was drawing ANYTHING that I was thinking of.
And when I say write down anything, I do mean it. Write down something you did that week, something you remember from when you were 8, something you said out loud and laughed at, things you thought about in the shower, a fact you learned, what your friend had for dinner. See if you can apply it to something. I've mentioned before that this comic only exists because I ran out of toilet paper and went to buy a large bulk pack of it...
When I already have a base idea and just want to expand on it, I usually draw first ask questions later, and things seem to just snowball into being a story. As an example, for the comic I did about Dipper's swimsuit, the base idea was just "Dipper and Stan both wear fully covering swimwear - because they're trans and its what they're comfortable with." But when I went to look up what Dipper wore to the pool, i noticed mabel had a Star one piece suit
Dipper has a star hat in the first episode that he loses, right? SO why don't we give him a matching star one piece that he abandons.
Of course then that single drawing CREATES the story, because we have to explain how he eventually ends up in what he's wearing in the episode. And then I just draw and draw and draw until either the comic ends or I can't continue for whatever reason. The outline for the full thing usually forms while I'm drawing. If I'm worried about forgetting, I'll write down what comes next.
Some of this stuff I didn't stick to, or greatly expanded upon. It's good to be flexible with what you're doing. If something you originally intended only to be a throwaway bit inspires you, roll with it and keep going. (If it ends up being nothing, you can always discard it or turn it into something else later anyway)
I did the swimsuit one basically fully on my computer, but if you want to see another paper based one, a lot of the comic with the kid stans and crampelter I'm doing currently is down on paper.
If you can make out my writing, you can see it says "Crampelter has found out about Stan and Ford's boxing identities" at the top there, which was the general main idea of this part of the comic. This one was a lot more planned than the dipper swimsuit one. There's multiple pages of this sort of stuff, and I knew the idea I wanted was "If Ford and Stan are trans, why would they still be called those names as kids?" (So I guess the takeaway from this one is if you're wanting a structured comic, write down the main idea on the top of a page and brainstorm dialogue and drawings on it?)
There's a lot of sort of floating heads with dialogue, all that matters is I get the emotions or general idea drawn. They're important for me to draw out because being able to "see" the scene (even if I'm seeing it heavily unfinished) is what usually inspires the next bit of the comic.
And I know I talked like a lot already but some general other advice:
Draw, ask questions about what you've drawn, draw more to answer the questions, see if those new drawings ask any new questions, continue this process till you come to a satisfying resolution.
It's fine to not draw something immediately after you've thought of it. I have a lot of things I've just squirreled away for later. And in the same vein its okay to drag something old up that you've never used and try to work with it.
I almost always put on music while I'm trying to think of things. Something I feel fits the mood of what I'm doing tonally. And then I usually just put the same song on repeat, though some people im sure would feel like that is psychological torture. But its helpful to me.
This might sound silly if you're someone who leaves the house a societally normal amount, but I try to go out into the world and do things so I get new ideas and experiences I can build on. Sometimes those things are literally just "go to the park", but sometimes it's venturing out somewhere several hours away or doing an activity i'd never care to do normally... I try to take note of anything that stood out to me and write down thoughts or feelings I had during.
When it comes to trying to be "funny", you should try to make yourself laugh first. Not only because you want your comics to bring yourself joy, but also because its just hard to make stuff you don't care about (And harder to be consistent about it). Though if you think of something and you don't really think its funny, you don't have to throw it away! You might be surprised what other people end up liking. So don't kill yourself to write jokes you yourself don't really get, but if your brain spits out something on its own you dont care much for, it still may be gold to someone else.
It's okay to make comics about simple and relatable things. People love relating. And depending on what you're writing about, that relatability may be really needed!
Everyone has something of value to say. Even if you yourself don't feel like the things you're saying matter, or that they're too silly or un-serious to matter. They matter.
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WIBTA for telling a guilt-tripper to knock it off?
I'm part of a Discord server for authors, both aspiring and published. We chat about life, discuss story ideas, share snippets, look for beta readers, give each other feedback on our query packages—the usual. We're from all over the world, so sometimes time zones don't match up, and inevitably there are members who are more active and, thus, get a bit more attention
There's this one user—let's call them Kat—who used to be fairly active and had decent interaction from other users. Around December, Kat shared a bit of their writing to a critique swap—basically a Google Drive where we could look over each other's stuff and provide feedback. They uploaded a bit late due to their schedule (GMT) and didn't get as much critique as they'd hoped, which made them a bit disheartened and they commented as much in the server. I can't blame them, since feeling ignored sucks, but I feel like complaining about it in the general channel (we have a dedicated vent channel) was a bit gauche.
Regardless, Kat continued to be active, albeit posting less frequently. Notably, most of their posting seems to be either responding to group prompts or talking about their own writing. Rarely do they respond to someone else's comments—or, hell, even replies to their own! I've seen people inquire more about stuff they've brought up, and then they just never respond. People do interact with them; they just don't interact back.
About a month ago, they messaged the server talking about recovering from illness and coming up with a story idea, asking for people to look over their first few pages. Two people responded with sympathy and interest; as far as I'm aware, Kat never got back to those people. Usually in interactions like this, someone asks for feedback, another person replies to tell them they're interested, the OP asks to DM, and the conversation goes there; Kat straight up left them hanging. After that, they only sent a few messages—a couple of replies to group prompts (those rarely have interaction from other users, though I've made an effort to react or reply to interesting responses, and I've seen a few others do the same), and another passive-aggressive comment about being ignored.
Tonight, Kat sent a message to the chat in the general channel (again, not #vent) that started with, "Whatever I've done or not done that's made me a social pariah in this group to people I thought were friends who now ignore my questions or posts, at least have a modicum of compassion and heart this message..." They then continued, talking about losing someone close to them. I do sincerely feel for them, but I can't bring myself to interact with that message in any way. Not even the heart they want. Worse, I'm entertaining the notion of telling them that while I am genuinely sorry for their loss, guilt-tripping people isn't an effective way to garner compression.
Why I WBTA: Literally they're grieving, that's such a shitty thing to do right now. Besides, they are right in that people haven't interacted with them as much ever since they asked for feedback on their work that one time. I doubt this will help anyone, let alone them.
Why I might be a JAH (I know for a fact there's no world where I'm NTA): Responses have dipped because they aren't posting as much, and moreover, since they rarely respond to people at all, it's likely that we've all learned that it's not worth it interacting with them. Besides, if I ignore them, they'll just keep guilt-tripping even more, which also isn't helpful to anyone. And again—we have a vent channel. Why they came into the place where we chitchat about our weekend plans vexes me somewhat.
I dunno. It's a very damned if I do, damned if I don't situation. WIBTA?
What are these acronyms?
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Hiiiii! I am squeezing into your inbox to
1. Congratulate you on your achievement. You deserved it sweetheart and I am so happy for you (maybe even a lil jealous! Hihi). Keep up the wonderful work and keep bringing joy and comfort to other people!
2. To request something!
I want some Vanilla-Mango ice creams in a cup with Maple syrup.
All of this for my one and only bunny Mirko! 🐇🤍I love ya girl!
Stay awesome!
A/N: thank you so much, honeypot! Your support means everything. I hope you'll like this short piece, and please forgive me if the character isn't quite right — it's my first time writing for Bunny Hero Mirko! ♥
5k FOLLOWERS EVENT MASTERLIST MY HERO ACADEMIA
The afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the city, painting the buildings with shades of gold and amber. You were walking through the park, lost in thought, when you spotted Mirko sitting on a bench, her prosthetic leg resting beside her. Her expression was distant, her eyes fixed on something far away.
Approaching her, you noticed the faint lines of pain etched on her face. You knew about her recent struggles with phantom pains, the cruel reminders of the limbs she had lost during the war. "Hey, Mirko," you greeted softly, taking a seat beside her.
She glanced at you, offering a small, weary smile. "Hey, Y/N," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of exhaustion.
"Is everything alright?" you inquired, concern coloring your words as you noticed the faint lines of strain etched upon her face.
Mirko sighed, her gaze returning to the horizon. "Just another rough day, I guess," she admitted, her fingers tracing the contours of her prosthetic leg. "The phantom pains have been acting up again."
You reached out, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Rumi. That sounds really tough."
She looked at you, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. "It is," she admitted. "It's like… I can still feel them, you know? My missing arm and leg. Sometimes, it's like they're still there, and it hurts so much…"
You squeezed her shoulder gently, offering your support. "I can't even begin to imagine how hard that must be for you. But I'm here for you, okay? You're not alone. You never were, sweetie."
Mirko's eyes softened, and she leaned into your touch, finding solace in your presence. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
You hurried to a nearby store to grab two bottles of water and some mochi. When you returned, you paused behind a large tree, watching Mirko.
She was someone you deeply admired, one of the few people who truly inspired you. Her toughness was unmatched, and secretly, you yearned to possess even a fraction of her spirit, to be as brave as she was. She was your role model.
You spent the rest of the afternoon with Mirko, talking, laughing, and sharing stories, sitting on that bench. You listened as she opened up about her fears and insecurities, her dreams and aspirations. And through it all, you were there for her, offering words of encouragement and comfort.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the park, Mirko turned to you, her eyes shining with gratitude. "You know," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "even on my darkest days, knowing that I have you by my side makes everything a little bit brighter."
You smiled, feeling your heart swell with warmth. "And you make everything brighter for me too, Mirko. You're strong, resilient, and incredibly brave. I admire you so much."
Mirko's smile widened, and she reached out, taking your hand in hers. "Thank you," she said softly. "That means the world to me. After Jaku and the war, things really shifted," she said, her brow creasing slightly. "It's not like it broke me, but I've been feeling more uncertain. About everything, really. Even my own abilities."
You met Mirko's gaze with a gentle smile. "Rumi," you began softly, squeezing her hand in reassurance, "you have no idea how many lives you've touched with your bravery. In the chaos of Jaku and the war, you were a beacon of hope for so many. Every leap you took, every punch you threw, they weren't just acts of courage — they were beacons of light in the darkness for all those who lost their hope. You saved countless lives with your unwavering determination and your indomitable spirit. Never doubt your abilities, my dear Rabbit Hero Mirko," you urged gently, your words a steadfast anchor amidst the uncertainty. "You are a hero in every sense of the word, and the world is a brighter place because of you. The echoes of your courage will never fade."
Mirko leaned into you, resting her head on your shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice tinged with emotion. "I think that's exactly what I needed to hear today."
#mirko x reader#miruko x reader#mirko#miruko#rumi usagiyama x reader#rumi usagiyama#rumi x reader#rumi#usagiyama#mha x reader#bnha x reader#my hero academia#my hero academia x reader#boku no hero academia x reader#boku no hero academia#usagiyama rumi#mha drabbles#bnha mirko
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Hi! I just started following you and oh my god you JSchlatt fics are so good, I can’t get enough!!! If you’re taking requests right now, I’d like to ask for a little protective Schlatt! With the internet being what it is, I can imagine that maybe it wouldn’t be to kind to Schlatt’s SO. Or maybe you might have another scenario in mind? Again, thank you so much for all your writing, it makes my day!!! ❤️
i will shoot you dead ; (irl) schlatt x reader
summary : he couldn't give a shit what people say about him; what actually irritates him is when those assholes involve people that have nothing to do with whatever they're bullshitting about. he's made it a point not to involve his personal life, but when it gets leaked and his s/o gets targeted; he isn't fucking happy.
info : swearing, protective schlatt, pet names, she/her, afab reader, mentions of harassment and death threats, and fluff.
a/n : this was such a good idea i couldn't pass up ah, thank you so much for enjoying ! i am and attempting to post around every two/three days but school is just starting so i'm unsure how well i'll manage. to everyone else that requested, still working on it so apologizes that they are semi-late ! hope this also lives up to your expectations.
Being rich at twenty-three was a blessing and a curse, since he acquired all his wealth from being an Internet personality so to speak. Having what should have been a hobby bare so much fruit wasn't without its issues, and the drawback was most definitely the fame. People in his business, attempting to figure out his name and address, outraged from jokes and pretending that they understand him to a personal level; he was grateful for the normal ones, but one outspoken psycho made him rethink all his life choices.
It was never the audience's right to know or interact with his private life, to the creators that do let their fans have that window into their life was a privilege, not a right. So he never did tell anyone past his close circle of friends of his lover, Y/n, a blue collared worker not high up within her company but making good money to be independent. To Schlatt, she was his own little slice of heaven, always giving him the right kind of realistic advice while could always acknowledge and take in account his own feelings.
To some: she might be considered perfectly average, but he saw beyond the rest, she was more than just a pretty face anyways. He adored her ambition to work her hardest and larger than life aspirations. Despite knowing of the kind of money her boyfriend possessed, she never dared asked for a penny; he appreciated that she wanted her own individual success that came from her and not from outside sources. Being that she was also probably one of the most appreciate human beings he's ever had the chance to meet just added to her charm; she never let him so much as pay for a coffee without him hearing a thousand and one thank yous. She was his to love and adore, no one else should have been mixed up in their lives.
She had absolutely zero internet presence, and he liked it that way. Since she wasn't big into the public sphere she wouldn't be caught up in all the bullshit that followed him. Many people despised him despite not having spoken to or even knowing him beyond his flamboyant internet persona; it was fucking stupid, usually they never really bothered him no matter how much they so desperately wanted to cancel him and throw him off the internet. That's where he thought it ended, they despised him, they couldn't logically harass people that possible know him, right? Wrong.
'uh, schlatt? I'm getting a lot of emails about you coming to my work email. Did you tell people about my job or anything?'
Being that for almost the past decade most if not all of his friends had taken to calling him by his last name it eventually became used more or less so by everyone in his life more than his real one. It wasn't that his girlfriend didn't know his name or hadn't asked, she also enjoyed the sound of it and ended up being the default thing she'd call him.
The text itself was unusual, he wasn't even sure if he knew her work email let alone tell it to other people.
'What? No. I don't even know your email. What are they saying?'
'I have it in my LinkedIn profile, they're asking what's my relationship to you. Some are threatening to message my higher-ups claiming I'm a racist? They keep linking me back to Twitter. I can't work when my important emails are drowned out in this. I had one threatening to come where I work and hurt me.'
'Listen, sweetheart, I'm so sorry I really didn't think that they'd find you. I'll do my best to fix this, I'll come pick you up from work today too so don't leave the building until I arrive.'
A spark of rage ignited from within him, he was sure to be careful about not revealing her identity or even mentioning much about her. He knew how bad these people could get and how low they would stoop because they had no lives and just wanted to get the better of him; he wanted to protect her and now all he felt like was a failure. He was quick to log into Twitter and type in 'Jschlatt Girlfriend' and it was almost immediate that he found the thread of the asshole that went as far as to dox him and figure out who and where Y/n was. "He is a bad person that deserves all the things coming to him." It was written with such conviction, as if dragging unrelated people into a stupid ass controversy about another testing-the-line joke he told. He didn't care what they did to him, but threatening to hurt those closest to him struck a nerve that made him want to do some... Fairly illegal things to these people.
So he hoped that most people had some common sense left, screen shotted the thread and the text from his lover and was quick to make a comment about it.
Say whatever the fuck you want about me. But actively try to dox and threaten my girlfriend when she has nothing to do with any of this bullshit online and I will shoot you dead. Fuck you.
He knew these saggy fuckers wouldn't dare try anything, not when they'd know he'd be right there waiting for them. Was he serious when he said he'd shoot them dead? Only half so. He wasn't scared to use the firearm that he kept at home for protection, and neither was he scared to do what he needed to for the sake of protecting the only bright spot in his life. She didn't deserve this. He knew the hate for him could get damn strong, and who knows who amongst them would be crazy enough to act on those words. He wasn't going to test it and he would clearly set the boundary; don't fuck with him in real life, or you have to deal with him in real life.
It can be said he was not in a good mood as he waited outside the glass skyscraper building for his girl, since the few hours that he tweeted out about the situation public opinion turned more into his favour. Although he still had those that were adamant that he was said bad person, vast majority agreed that the original poster of her information was the biggest asshole. The thread was deleted but he saved all the screenshots and had the username burned into his mind, may god save that asshole's soul should Schlatt ever get his hands on him.
Once he saw her exiting the azure-tinted building he was quick to slip his phone into his pocket and get out of the car, running up to the door to greet her. A sheepish smile graced her lips as she gave him a soft wave, he noticed how she wore his favourite blazer and skirt set and how gorgeous she looked in it, but a more important question left his lips first. "Are you okay?" A worried one captured her features, "yeah I am, you look so stressed out. I'm sorry if I worried you." He shook his head and took hold of the hand that reached up to cup his face, "don't apologize, if anything I should. Being involved with me got you in this." A sympathetic look flashed her features as he walked side-by-side with her, a soft smile growing to her own face.
"Don't beat yourself up about it, I reported it to HR and although it took a while to explain they made sure to notify security about it and I had one guy follow me around when I went out for lunch, he was nice about it too. I had to ask help how to set it so they'd all go to spam but we worked it out eventually. So, please, don't worry too much; I'll be okay I promise." He looked down to see her reassuring smile, he knew she'd worry more over him than her own safety. He knew working himself up was an overreaction, he doubted anything would happen; but should something do he wouldn't ever forgive himself. "So, don't shoot anyone?" His eyebrows shot up at this, "you saw my tweet?" Last time he checked this girl had an issue figuring out how to change her profile picture on instagram.
"Well, other people did. A lot of people caught wind that I was getting death threats so I ended up having to explain who you were and they found your Twitter. Please uh, don't kill anyone on my behalf?" An airy chuckle left him, as he knelt down to kiss her temple, "and leave you behind to go to jail, toots? You're gonna have to try harder than that if you want to get rid of me." Seeing his ease and cheeky grin come about, a sense of relief washed over her. "So then, you wanna go out to–" "no." "Huh, why?"
She separated from him for just a moment so she could get into the passenger's side of the car. "We can go out when this whole thing blows over. Until then I don't want you running out of sight." It may have sounded slightly demanding, but she knew that his anxiety must have been through the roof; overthinking was one of his flaws that they worked through together. It wasn't like it was all that big of a deal, chilling out at the apartment sounded just as nice. "Movie night then?" Her enthusiasm was infectious that he couldn't help but break a smile. "Yes, please."
#schlatt#reader insert#schlatt x reader#schlatt x y/n#afab reader#chuckle sandwich#jschlatt#irl people#schlatt imagine#schlatt x you#jschlatt fluff#jschlatt fanfiction#jschlatt imagine#jschlatt x you#jschlatt x reader#jschlatt x y/n#jschaltt#jschlatt fanfic#schlatt fanfic#schlatt fluff#schlatt fanfiction#x reader
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Extremely stupid and contradictory question that I still want an answer to, but what is it that makes people want a dictatorship with progressive values?
For that matter, why is it that nearly all dictatorships are so fundamentally built on conservative/authoritarian ideals and values?
Why doesn't genuinely good values ever end up being the core value that gets enforced with ruthless brutality instead of people twisting themselves into knots to justify always sinking to the worst possible impulses built on hatred?
Is decency just fundamentally anathema to it?
This is one of those questions where you're actually asking several different things at once, and it will take a lot of work for me to explain and contextualize everything that you're looking for. However, I do think this is important to understand, so I'll give it a shot.
First, if I may point out, you've answered a bit of your own question when you ask "why don't genuinely good values ever end up being enforced with ruthless brutality?" I think it's fair to say that if your values were actually good or something that would broadly benefit the lives of most people, they would not need to be enforced with ruthless brutality. This is the case regardless of which ideology your totalitarian dictatorship is built on; i.e. conservative Christian fascism or left-wing old-school communism/People's Republics. Because a dictatorship, no matter which values it claims to use to justify itself, never exists to benefit people. A dictatorship exists to vest supreme power in one person or system and totally disenfranchise everyone else, and it is not, regardless of what some people on the internet in 2023 seem to think, a tool of social justice. Marginalized groups who have a hard time in a traditionally white/culturally Christian Western democracy will nonetheless have an orders of magnitude worse time under a dictatorship, as will everyone else. It is not something you should wish for under any circumstances, and also represents a naïve Western privilege where, having grown up with the unpleasant consequences of late-stage capitalism, people go for the fallacy that old-school communism must be better! Except it isn't, and when you totally blow over and ignore the objections of people who actually grew up under those regimes and warn you that they're not so great, you're just straight-up projecting and wishful thinking. It has nothing to do with reality or history or what anyone should aspire to.
The idea has existed in human society for thousands of years that if you can just get a "benevolent dictator" or "merciful autocrat," who can be trusted to rule with supreme power, do what's right for everyone, and get rid of the messy and flawed process of representative democracy that never seems to quite fix society's biggest problems. However: this doesn't work, it has never worked, there have been countless wars fought over this question, and it would certainly never, ever work in a setting as complex as the globalized twenty-first century. The Online Leftists who want Bernie Sanders, an old white man, to be their all-powerful dictator -- that is, uh, not the Social Justice Flex (tm) you think it is. And as noted, a dictator of any stripe is fundamentally anathema to actual progressivism or social justice, and anyone who loudly wants one (or thinks that the American president should act like one) is exposing both their profoundly immature understanding of the situation and a worrisome thirst for tyrannical despotism as long as it has "the right ideas." This has, again, caused countless wars and numberless deaths, because "the right ideas" will never be universal, universally agreed upon, or anything else, and if they're enforced with violence, you have -- again -- a dictatorship! It's not great!
In chaotic and uncertain times, people tend to want a "strong leader" who they can trust to just fix all their problems and relieve them from the burden of governance or worrying how things are going to work out. This was first articulated in modern Western political philosophy by Thomas Hobbes, who wrote his Leviathan in the mid-17th century during the English Civil War. Basically, his idea was that the people should democratically elect an absolute monarch/leader, who would then rule with an iron fist and retain supreme power, because they couldn't be trusted to govern themselves. (Hobbes is also where we get the pessimistic description of life being "nasty, brutish, and short.") Because things are bad right now, people likewise tend to want an absolute monarch of either right or left political persuasion, but these are both very bad options and should be equally resisted.
Democracy is flawed, imperfect, slow, cumbersome, and contradictory. It can be badly hijacked and corrupted (as we've seen in the last few years) by money, misinformation, bad-faith actors, and more. It is also still always, 100%, all-of-the-time preferable to a dictatorship. People still fall for the idea that having an absolute monarch who just "makes things happen" right away without the cumbersome apparatus of congresses or senates or supreme courts of judges would be "better," and totally ignore the massive and systemic disenfranchisement it would impose on everyone else. Especially in our current misogynist white-supremacist homophobic etc. system; the dictator WOULD be a rich white dude and let's not even pretend otherwise. Even if he made a play at being "progressive," it would not be true and it would not last. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, etc. etc. I do not want a dictatorship. I do not want to live in a dictatorship. I don't care what Good Intentions (tm) anyone has, because I think that anyone who wants to be a dictator or to live under a dictatorship has a very different idea of Good Intentions than I, or indeed most sane people, do. The end.
Yes, America is a deeply flawed country. Yes, it is built on systemic and ongoing racial and cultural white-settler-colonial genocide. However, where modern leftists struggle the most is the idea that two things can be true, because they're so deeply sunk into black-and-white, zero-sum thinking where if one thing is true, it rejects all the others. If we have a flawed democracy, the solution is to fix that democracy, not to just throw it out the window and cavil for an absolute monarch. You can be fiercely critical of America's imperialist actions, unnecessary wars, racist violence, and everything else while also realizing that if the first and oldest presidential democratic republic in existence was dismantled or turned into a fascist autocracy, it would be absolutely terrible for many, many countries around the world, and humankind in general. You do not have to subscribe to the nonsensical, navel-gazing tankie "logic" that America is the only country with (evil) agency ever, and everyone else in the world is just its helpless pawns. You do not have to subscribe to the idea that any work within the system, or accepting basic political realities, makes you a "bootlicking neoliberal shill" or whatever they're using to insult anyone who doesn't just live in their distorted bubble of self-righteous ignorance. You don't!
As I always say, the only people who really want a dictatorship are those who know that their ideas aren't popular enough to win a free and fair election, but think they "deserve" to be in power anyway, because etc. etc. My Ideas Are Better! (Spoiler alert: they are not.) This is the same whether it's the Republicans trying to outlaw elections or the Online Leftists who sanctimoniously refuse to engage with the civic process because it's "contaminating" for their Pure Ideas to make any compromise with reality. And yet those so-called progressives are utterly dependent on us Normie Liberals who actually vote against the rabid fascists, and are (just barely) holding the line. Because yes, in a liberal democracy, they do have the right to be sanctimonious, useless, toxic, holier-than-thou ideologues who sit on their asses and contribute nothing to the actual dirty process of change. But if the Normie Liberals haughtily refused to vote in the same way the Online Leftists do, the fascists WOULD be in complete control by now, and trust me, it would be grim.
To be frank, I think most, if not all, of what calls itself "Western leftism" has categorically and completely failed as a moral, political, or practical opposing force to right-wing fascism. Much of it is dependent on savagely backbiting even those people who already agree with you, refusing to take basic steps to enact change even incrementally (i.e. voting), and attacking the establishment liberal party, i.e. the Democrats in America, while vocally supporting foreign dictatorships as long as they're "anti-American" or ancestrally "socialist." We've seen the utter failure of Western leftists at developing a moral stance on Ukraine, a consistent opposition to Trump, or pretty much anything else that requires them to come down from their high horses and accept a more complex reality than their abstract purity tests or outright nonsensical clichés. And when you're attacking the Democrats nonstop and backing foreign dictatorships, that is, uh, pretty much the exact same thing that the fascist Republicans are doing. Which means both of these groups are profoundly and dangerously anti-democratic, anti-liberal, anti-intellectual, and anti-humanity. There's no way around it.
In short, so-called "progressives" want a dictatorship because they too have given up on democracy, don't believe that people at large are as "smart" as they are, and don't want actual praxis or the effort of making change within a flawed democracy. They subscribe instead to the magical thinking that an absolute monarch will instantly and benevolently fix everything, which has -- as noted -- been violently disproved over and over in human history, and they think that "leftism" consists of having the most "pure" views. They do not care about or actively deplore any idea of making compromises to put them into practice, they gain moral superiority by excluding more and more people to make a smaller and smaller in-group, they refuse to accept any information, history, or factual evidence that contradicts their beliefs, and they're just as angrily anti-intellectual as the worst Christian-fascist-nutjob-right-winger, because reality has a bad habit of being complicated and not fitting into neat boxes. And if you think, as I do, that it would be a very, very bad idea to trust these mean, vindictive, constantly-want-to-punish-everyone-who-is-not-exactly-like-them people with absolute power, then you'll have to move to the idea of accepting that for all its flaws, democracy is still the best and most just system we have yet invented for governing ourselves, and the idea is to fix ours, not get rid of it entirely. So yeah.
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Maybe somewhere in his (hound) broken mind, there is a glimpse of what he was before that is buried under the torture and conditioning. But who was he really before? Was he truly the tame loyal guard dog that everyone in the task force knew him as? Or did his new owner just… awaken a deep need? Did his new owner unlock the hidden pandora’s box of desires and wants? the desire to bite, the desire to be leashed up like the dog he has always wanted but didn't know to be?
And if that carnal desire was unleashed. I wonder how hard it would be for his previous owner (price) to accept and possibly tame the beast that was uncaged. Will he try to lock the pandora’s box and hide the hell hound? Or will he take the leash and treat him like the dog that he has always wanted to be?
And im also wondering what is hound’s past before joining the military:D
Idk mind running and ur writing is amazing mkbvctxekl;cvffve
-:3
Oooh I never thought about it like that lol :Dd I love that this story is just kinda becoming a group effort with ya'll giving me all kinds of ideas. yeah, I bet there are some parts of old Hound that Makarov hadn't managed to kill off, but they're buried deep and suppressed as like an unconscious self preservation method. And I do plan to expand it in the story and show like, old hound coming out when he's in rehab and with the 141
I wanna leave Hound's past up for the reader to decide as he's already turning into more of an OC/SI than I originally indented with the one-shot lol, but I do imagine that some of the dog like mentality does come from Hound just being a very tall and intimidating person that people saw first for his body and didn't bother to learn more about him. He was just some muscle head, to be ordered around when someone needed the heavy lifting done, and promptly left to his own devices.
So Price going that extra mile of learning about Hound, what he liked, disliked, what he aspired to be? Yeah, that earned him Hound's undivided loyalty.
Oh, Oh, how about for angst, that Price was the one that kinda started the dog thing? Like calling Hound a pup or something as a joke that spread because Hound was always next to him and following his orders. And then Makarov got Hound and just decided it would break Price even more if he turned Price's most loyal soldier into his dog.
So it's more of like, everyone told him he was a dog, so it must be true, right? What else are you good for except for snarling and mauling who you're told?
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Fic rec friday!
Got this idea from @mediumgayitalian (thank you!)
Below are 5 fics I've enjoyed this past week/recently. (They're all solangelo)
FAR GALAXIES by @rosyredlipstick
https://archiveofourown.org/works/49263694
Summary:
She didn’t answer. Instead, she pulled out her PADD from her coat, slow enough that Nico only slightly twitched. Jason’s transmission was loaded up on the screen—at the bottom, their signature tag was spelled out. “Guardians of the Galaxy. That supposed to be a joke?”
“More like an aspiration,” Jason said.
-
Space, the final frontier. Or whatever.
--
Rosy is still working on it, but when I tell you this is absolutely worth it. Nico is 1 part of the Guardians of the Galaxy, and him, along with Piper, Jason and Leo get into many shenanigans in their journey across the stars. I'm just obsessed with Will and Nico's dynamic in this. Rosy is just such an incredible writer, her fics will probably pop up in more of these if I'm being honest.
Solace by @solisaureus
https://archiveofourown.org/works/38228998
Summary:
solace (n.) comfort or consolation in a time of distress or sadness.
solis (n.) the Latin word for "sun."
--
I am an absolute sucker for fics that are "rewrites" of canon but that are Will Solace-centric, and when I tell you this absolutely delivers. I loved reading about Will's journey as a healer, how he deals with love and loss, it's just a beautiful fic!
i'm put in awe (of something so flawed and free) by CordeliaRose
https://archiveofourown.org/works/53629369
Summary:
Right. Well. Nico squares his shoulders, reminds himself that nobody’s perfect and this guy has to be ugly, and knocks on the door.
He is met with a Greek God, and forgets how to function.
|||
AKA: the archaeologist!Nico & trauma surgeon!Will AU.
--
If you're not familiar with Cordelia, they wrote the solangelo bible (AKA August) and are currently writing August(Will's version). However, they decided to bless us with this absolutely adorable Trauma Surgeon! Will and Archaeologist! Nico AU, and it's such a pleasant read. Will and Nico's dynamic is flirty and adorable, and the rest of the seven are such sweet friends to Nico. Plus Nico is autistic coded in this and I'm a sucker for that.
my lover's the sunlight by demigodbeauties
https://archiveofourown.org/works/30187689
Summary:
It’s his Olympic debut. In a few short hours, he’ll be the only man skating on the ice sitting before him. He’ll be skating in the Men’s Singles Short Programme and representing all of the United States. He’s in a city he hasn’t seen in years, skating a brand new set of routines, and he wants so desperately to win.
--
Figure Skater Nico di Angelo has a run in with Ice Hockey Player Will Solace. It doesn't go too smoothly, but then again - when does it ever?
--
Olympic Skater!Nico and Olympic Hockey player!Will. This story is warm and heartfelt, and the "enemies" part of the "enemies to lovers" tag is more misunderstanding than anything else. I felt myself wanting to cheer for Nico as he performed right there along Will, and #Solangelo even trends on twitter in this LOL.
Got a Pretty Face (Pretty Boyfriend, Too) by @buoyantsaturn
https://archiveofourown.org/works/33772453
Summary:
Was Will flirting with him? Or was this just his attempt at being a friendly neighbor? Either way, just to be safe, Nico should probably make it known that he’s off the market. Right? A casual mention of a boyfriend would work - he’d never had to let anybody down easy like that before, but he’d seen it in, like, movies. Thanks, I’ll see if my boyfriend is interested. Perfect. Now, he just had to say it.
-
Will moves from Austin to a small town in Texas, where he immediately takes up three jobs, and does not have the time to be flirting this much.
--
CJ never ceases to amaze and impress with their work, and this fic is no exception. I'm not normally one to read Leo/Nico, but I found I really enjoyed their dynamic in this fic, and the use of "sunshine" and "freckles" as nicknames for Will absolutely made me smile. Basically Nico and Leo live in Texas and Will works two jobs, and meets both Nico and Leo separately, and the two both start crushing on him. Shenanigans ensue. I adore this fic.
--
Okay that's all! I'll probably keep doing this until I run out of fics to recommend. Have a good friday lovelies!
#solangelo#nico di angelo#will solace#fic rec#solangelo fic rec#percy jackson#Percy jackson and the olympians#pjo
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I really loved that scene between Howard and KT in this last episode of Only Murders. The two of them hyping each other up when no one else would, bringing out the best in each other, finally believing again in the dreams that had been squashed out of them...
Like -- the idea of the two of them entertaining a literal theater ghost while also entertaining the ghosts of what they might have been. What they wanted more than anything to be. I think that last scene with the curtains implies that the ghost very much is real, but the metaphorical ghosts feel so much more important in that scene. The ghosts of dreams and the ghost of talent never nurtured and the ghosts of the lives they felt they should have been living.
It's something so common in show biz, a person who has talent but just never quite seems to make it. But it's common in every other part of life, too, isn't it? The things that you want so badly but that you never get to do because you aren't given a chance, because the people around you never support you, because you just don't get lucky.
And you just get smaller and sadder and angrier. It hurts to shrink yourself to make room for the aspirations of those around you. It hurts to start to believe that they're right. That dreams aren't made for the likes of you.
But then you see what it's like when someone believes in you and you just mesh! And you get a chance to see exactly what you could always have been if you'd just had that opportunity.
It was really lovely to see. ;;
And like... I think they brought the idea of a ghost light into the metaphor really beautifully. Ghost lights are really for safety, y'know? A light has to be on onstage at all times. But there's also this air of superstition to them, that they appease theater ghosts and scare off bad luck.
To have the ghost light go out when they arrive, and to have it blink itself on again when both Howard and KT were finding themselves on that stage... Yes, it was probably indicating the presence of Gideon, but on a metaphorical level, it was also that light inside the two of them, long since extinguished, blinking back into life. The passion of creation, the fire of your dreams beneath your breast. It's inspiration and collaboration and hope and hope and hope.
What is a stage without light, and what are we without a light inside us? We have to keep it burning, and it's important to light it for others as well. It's safety and it's protection and boy, does it appease the ghosts.
😭
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