#even though it was their faults in the first place
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I feel like Bob would be really good at overstimulation because he's so patient. He'd have you naked and in tears, several orgasms deep before he even took his shirt off.
I'm going to pretend @attapullman sent this (but she'd never go nonny about Bob), because I wrote this little ficlet as a birthday treat in response to this sexy thought. Happy birthday, Morgan!
I Need a Minute (Bob Floyd x Reader)
contains smut, fingering, adult language, overstimulation and confident Bob
Your boyfriend was not someone to mess with. You knew that for a fact. Sure, he looked sweet and innocent in his wire rimmed glasses and unassuming shirts, but inside, he was a thinker. A planner. Someone who took all the time necessary to make a decision and formulate a plan. And in your case, he was currently working on exacting his revenge.
Anyone else would have a hard time reading it on his face, but you knew him well enough to notice the soft twitch of his lips and the subtle glances he was sending your way. It was your own fault for the way you teased him at the diner, sliding your hand up inch by inch beneath the napkin that was spread out on his lap until you got to the sweet spot. While you casually talked to all of his aviator friends, you stroked him slowly through his jeans. As you laughed with Mickey and Javy, you gave him a little squeeze just to hear his soft grunt.
When everyone started to stand up, Bob was blushing as he said, "I need a minute." And you left him high and dry, climbing out of the oversized booth and making a mad dash for Natasha's car while Bob tried to hide what you did to him.
As you traipsed across the sandy beach with everyone else, Bob finally reached for your free hand. "Why don't we spread our blanket out over here?" he asked, tugging you to a stop. "The fireworks would be starting up in just a few minutes," he added. "We should get settled in."
He seemed completely calm, so you shook out the beach blanket and curled up with him so you were sitting between his legs. "Are you comfy?" you asked him over your shoulder, and he kissed the tip of your nose, making you smile.
"Very," he promised, and you turned to face the ocean just as the first red, green and orange fireworks lit up the sky. Even though you were wearing his Naval Academy sweatshirt over your sundress, you shivered as he whispered, "I'm about to be a lot more comfortable than you."
"What?" you gasped, realizing that everyone else was sitting in front of you. There was nobody watching as Bob gently pulled your legs further apart and kissed the side of your neck. Nobody noticed a damn thing when he tugged the fabric slowly up your legs and ran his thumb along your underwear, sending you scooting back against him. "What are you doing?" you whined softly, giving yourself away.
His fingers paused on the thin strip of cotton hiding your pussy from him. "Oh. You want this, huh?" When you nodded, dazed eyes focused on the fireworks, he kissed your earlobe. "You say that now."
One long finger slipped inside the elastic band of your underwear, and you gasped his name. Bob let his digit glide slowly up and down your slit while he made casually offhand comments like, "The green fireworks are my favorite. Did you know they are made out of barium salts?" Your only response was to moan a little louder, and he didn't stop you. The loud booming sounds blocked out your whines and breathy gasps as he slipped that finger inside you, lazily fucking you with it while his thumb found you clit.
He punctuated every thrust with a little swirl of his thumb, varying the speed as he went. You tried desperately to fuck yourself on that long finger, but he held you in place with his other hand. You were playing his little game now, and you knew it would be a little while before you came.
His lips worked at your neck until you could feel a bruise forming. His teeth grazed your skin softly when you started to hiccup. You found out the hard way that the city of San Diego put on a glamorous thirty minute fireworks display for holidays, and Bob teased you for twenty-eight of them. Your breathing was so loud as he pumped his hand beneath your dress and whispered, "You want to come, don't you? You want to soak my hand even more, huh?"
"Bob!" you begged loud enough that one of the others must have heard, but Bob just kept slowing his pace until you felt tears in your eyes. Your makeup was probably a mess. Sweat broke out on your brow. But he just slowed down until he was gently tapping your pussy with his fingers.
"Ask me really nicely."
"Please, Bob!" Your voice broke on the words as he rammed two fingers deep inside you and stroked your clit with his thumb. The grand finale of fireworks blasted across the sky as you finally came, eyes closed and back arched. You didn't care who saw you like this as long as you got the relief you needed.
He kissed that tender spot behind your ear and whispered, "You're lucky I'm so nice," as you rolled your hips against the heel of his hand. And then he was slipping it back out of your panties and tugging your dress into place as everyone around you started to collect their things. When he stood up and looked down at you, he smirked as you sprawled out on your back, your limbs completely boneless. "You ready to go?" he asked with his hands on his hips.
"I need a minute."
#if you ask emily#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd x you#bob floyd imagine#bob floyd smut#bob fucks#bob x reader#robert floyd x reader#robert floyd imagine#robert floyd x you#bob floyd fic#bob floyd fanfiction#top gun maverick imagine#robert bob floyd x reader
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I’m a massively hopeless romantic and hopelessly in love with our short paranoid chaotic duck loving king and the THINGS I WOULD DO TO THIS MAN JUST BECAUSE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH.
Anyway thoughts about he’d react to constant affection because my love is physical affection and maybe sometimes giving him handmade gifts because nothing beats time wasted on handmade shit. I LOVE THIS MAN SM ITS TOO MUCH 😭😭😭
I WANNA CONSTANTLY SHOWER HIM WITH KISSES AND PRAISES PLS.
Basically requesting a fluff with all of the above 💀💀
I also love your writing style sm, hope you’re having a great day/night
buckle up cause this is gonna be SWEET!
Thanks for the appreciation on my writing, I'm still working on it 😭💖 love this sm. This is for the physical affection ppl 🫶🏻
a/n:.. added some acts of service love language too I'm so sorry 😭
NOT PROFFRED.
PROOFREA. PROOFREWD. I can't spell.
NOT PROOFREAD.
(I managed)
divider by @al-of-the-stars. NOT MINE!!
It's not a surprise Lucifer's a sucker for physical attention. Not in a sexual way, just hugs and holding hands in the most unusual times.
At first you started off with 'baby steps', occasionally giving him a kiss on his cheek or lips, holding his hand or playing with his suit when he didn't expect it, just to see how he'd react.
He would get flustered, turn into a blushing mess and pretty much feel like his knees would give oit at any minute. He would never admit what an impact you had on him, though.
When the showers of affection got more frequent and he realised what you were doing, every chance he'd get he would basically invite you to do those things for him. He loved tricking you into thinking he didn't know what your love language was and , even if he still got all flustered and was still surprised because he, obviously, didn't know what to expect (a kiss or a hug), he convinced himself he was just acting so flustered to trick you, again.
Of course Lucifer's love for you gets more and more powerful with every kiss.
His wife left him, after all, so he needs all the affection you can offer. He really loves you.
Even though you noticed he still wears his wedding ring sometimes, you know how hard it is to let go, and you showering him with affection actually helps him get through it!
"Good morning, handsome!" You shower his sleepy face with kisses as he slowly wakes up, watching his grumpy face turn into a weak, tired smile.
"Morning" He smiles and cuos your cheek as you pull away, pushing you back in for a kiss.
He notices you're all dressed already and raises an eyebrow, sitting up. "Where are you going?"
"Well, Your Majesty-" He smiles at you, loving how intimate it sounds when you call him that, "-It's Monday. Meaning I have work to get done."
He frowns and you laugh. "Bummer."
"I made you breakfast, so you might as well get changed." You ruffle his hair as he struggles to put it back in place, even if it was tangled already and playfully huffs at you, lecturing you on how his hair must always be perfect as you leave the room.
When he joins you in the kitchen, you gasp in awe, like every morning. You go up to him and praise him for being so good looking, pestering his face with kisses and telling him how you're falling in love over and over again.
He lovea it truly, holding your waist as you praise him. He looks at you with lovesick eyes and a goofy smile and only let's go when hinger takes the best of him. He praises you back, too, for being such a good cook (or not burning the kitchen down.. in certain people's cases aka me).
Before you leave, he makes sure to leave one of his ducks in your bag , knowing that by now you have millions if them in your office, as you leave one of your handmade gifts, drawings, or sweets in your shared room.
He almost never wants to let you go to work, turning the radio on to twirl you around in the kitchen and kiss your face or hands until it gets so late you either have to run to work or make him open up a portal for you.
It's not his fault he just loves the way you love him.
Ive never written something so fast in my entire life. THE THINGS LUCI DOES TO ME OMG.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader#hazbin spoilers#hazbin hotel fandom#lucifer morningstar#lucifer x reader
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Two in a Bush
Another commission!
They asked for Reader getting separated in a dungeon and Wild panics to find them. :D
Masterlist
Content under the cut!
Wild wasn’t sure what to expect of a place like this.
He didn’t have anything like this in his world. He had the Divine Beasts that he had to figure out but those were giant mechanical weapons. Not some fortress that had a hidden secret at the end.
Comparing the two- he supposes they aren’t all that different. From the monsters, to the puzzles, to even the multiple floors for a few of them, Wild could confidently say that he still had no idea what he was doing. Luckily, many of the others seemed to have more than enough practice and experience to go around. Wild was more than happy to leave the spearheading to them.
It gave him an excuse to look after you instead.
You were a special circumstance amongst this group of heroes. It caught Wild’s attention in more ways than one.
It was just unfortunate that you had zero fighting experience like the rest of them. Not that he personally considered it a fault of yours, don’t misunderstand him, but the idea of being with a group that does nothing but fight without being able to fight didn’t sit right with him. Granted, he was happy and delighted by the idea that you came from a place where you could live normally. It made him jealous in a good way. He wanted that for himself as well- but you would have had it from the beginning and that’s something that he knew he would never achieve.
However this also meant that they would have to be on the lookout for you specifically. Without any knowledge of how to properly defend yourself, it meant that they would have to pick up the slack.
Not that they would ever phrase it that way and much less to your face. Wild had thought that he could take the opportunities to look cooler and more heroic in an attempt to catch your attention but even he knew that it was a fool’s dream to picture it that way… That didn’t stop him from day dreaming though.
Regardless, he stuck by your side as the group explored the dungeon, sword at the ready and willing to defend you if needed.
You seemed content to explore the dungeon just like the rest of them, keeping pace and looking around with childlike wonder on your face. It made Wild smile.
Suddenly, the group was attacked.
Everyone sprang into action, Wild included to take down the threats in the new room. While there was usually only a handful per section, this room had an unusually high amount of monsters. It took all hands on deck to diminish the threat and clear the area before they could continue exploring.
Wild was lucky enough to stay behind the larger hoard of monsters, shooting at the threats to help his brother before they broke the line. He switched to his sword and charged ahead, slashing the threats along with the others until there weren’t any left. Tired, but relieved, Wild turned back to you with a smile on your face.
But you were nowhere to be seen.
His heart dropped and so did his sword from his hand. The metal clang echoed in the room. “Guys?”
Many turned their heads to him.
Wild looked back to the group asking for where you were, prompting them to look around the room as well. Wild didn’t like the looks on their faces as they came to the same conclusion they did.
“Where did they go?” Wind scratched the top of their head.
“Were they pushed out of the room?” Twilight stood straighter, jogging to the entrance for a better look.
Hyrule followed the Rancher without missing a beat. “If they didn’t, then we have a bigger problem on our hands than any puzzle we can find in this dungeon.”
Wild could feel his anxiety rise within him. You were right there. How could he lose you? There’s still more monsters to go through. You can’t fight them. You can’t. He needs to find you. He needs to find you now.
“Oh hello.” Legend whistles, calling the attention of the others. “Champion, were you over here at first?”
Wild turns around and nods. “Yeah, I tried to keep them here so they wouldn’t be cornered so easily if they had to run.”
He doesn’t like the look on Legend’s face. There’s a panel on the wall but Wild didn’t think much of it at first.
Legend points to it. “Who wants to bet they’re on the other side?”
“What?” Warrior furrows his eyebrows. “What does a weird wall with a human shape have to do with-”
Legend grins and places himself in the human imprint. The wall spins suddenly with a quiet whirr and returns to its original position. Without Legend in it.
Wild doesn’t want to waste any time. He runs to the panel despite the cries of the other boys, too in shock over Legend’s disappearance to stop him from doing the same. He places his back to the metal and gasps as it spins just as it did for the Veteran.
He comes face to face with another room entirely and takes a step away. The wall stays the same.
Legend dusts himself as he takes in the new room. He’s looking at the map they collected earlier, trying to figure out where they go and where this would lead. He’s scratching the side of his head, pushing his hat to a dangerous edge where it could fall off with one movement. He looks perplexed. He doesn’t seem to like what he’s seeing. Wild doesn’t want to think about going into uncharted waters and what that could mean for you.
Wild scans the room as well. There’s some more monster hidden in the shadows to his left and there’s a deadend to his right. In front of him, there is a hallway just beyond the room but there’s another exit just ahead of the monsters.
The monsters notice him and begin to make their way closer to the duo. The wall behind them spins again, signaling the arrival of a third member but Wild pays no attention to it.
He still can’t find you so he takes off running, picking a random exit in hopes that it leads him to where you could be. How far could you get in such a short time? Surely he could catch up in time before something happens, right?
He hears the Four call after him but he pays no mind to it. Footsteps begin to echo behind him along with the muffled cries of the monsters as they were shot on sight.
Wild takes a deep breath and looks around. He finds a new spot but there’s still no sign of you, even as he desperately begins to call for your name. There’s more monsters in this new room and he’s quick to deal with them. His building panic and frustration adds fuel to the fire as he channels it into a quiet rage to kill the offending beasts.
Once the room is empty, it remains empty. Not wanting to waste any more time, Wild turns on his heels and runs out as fast as his feet can carry him.
He’s already lost. He doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t know where the others are, nor does he hear them anymore. His breath is the only sound to surround him. It comes out haggard and stunted. He coughs- feeling a drop of saliva attempt to go down the wrong pipe.
Wild whips his head up, not bothering to continue catching his breath. He starts running again, finding a new path into a new room. There’s more monsters and he deals with them as quickly as the prior ones.
Panic has fully set into his bones as each turn produces more and more failure.
Tears well up in eyes and in his frustration, Wild punches the wall. He hurts his hands more than he hurts the wall.
As in response, he hears a sound. It’s muffled and faint, but he can hear the familiar cry of rage and determination just beyond the bricks and mortar. It’s a battle cry.
It sounds like you.
Spurred on by the sound, Wild goes on the attack. He beats the wall with everything he has before the ground beneath him gives way. He tumbles and instinctually tucks himself into a ball. Wild wraps his arms around his head and uses his legs to try and gain control of his graceless descent. He eventually comes to a grinding halt and he unfurls himself from the positions he’s put himself in.
He is only inches away from the edge of what appears to be a cliff. His heart jumps at the sight as he rolls away.
Wild, remembering why he had tried to get through the wall to begin with, pushes himself to his feet.
A monster cries before it dies, quickly followed by more and more sounds of pain and anger. Another battle cry rings out, this time much more clear than what Wild had heard previously.
It is most definitely you.
Wild looks over the edge hesitantly. It would be great if he had finally found you… But it would be a hit to his psyche if he were to see you in battle. He’s afraid of what he might see. Are you hurt? Are you terrified?
He looks over anyway.
Instead of terror, he’s pleasantly surprised to see that same determined look on your face that he’s seen on so many other faces. Your eyebrows are closely knit together and there’s a glint in your eyes that he’s never seen before.
They’re hardened and sharp. There’s an ax in your hand that you no doubt stole from one of the monsters you must have come across. You look angry and there’s multiple splatters of blood over your clothes and exposed skin. The fabric that covers sticks to your body from the sweat you’ve produced from the intensity you’ve put into defending yourself.
Wild finds himself glued to your figure. You fight ferociously even though your lack of training is evident. He watches you with his jaw agape and his hand on the handle of the sheikah slate. He’s entranced. This is hot.
The sheikah makes the familiar sound of a picture being taken before he reaches for his bow. From above, he aims for the monsters that come against you. His attacks throw the monsters into confusion as they search for the second hidden threat. The distraction gives you the perfect opportunity to strike them back and finish them off.
Once the last of the monsters has fallen, its body fallen beside the others, you take the last remaining part of your sleeve and wipe your forehead. You smear the blood splotches over your cheek in the process. Wild takes another picture. You look up, using your hand to try and block out any competing light and see him.
Wild snaps one more picture, hoping that it catches the way you instantly relax and smile up at him. He hopes he catches the way your eyes light up at the sight of him and the way you’ve held the weapon high in the air in greeting, making it look more like a victory stance over your enemies. He waves back enthusiastically. He’s never felt more proud in his life. “You did it!”
“Link!” You cry back and drop the weapon. You run close to the cliff, craning your neck to your sight on him. “You found me!”
Maybe you didn’t hear him.
Wild shakes his head affectionately and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t see your eyebrows furrow again or the confused tilt to your head. Instead, Wild takes a running leap and jumps off of the cliff. He opens up the paraglider and uses it to glide down safely to where you stand.
You run to him before he hits the ground, nearly tackling him as he lands. Wild wraps his arms around you instinctually, calming his pounding heart now that you’ve returned safely to his arms. You take in a shuddering breath and tuck your face into the crook of his neck. You feel inclined to repeat yourself. “You found me.”
“I wouldn’t stop searching until I did.” Wild whispers. He pulls back and wipes the remaining blood off of your face. “What happened? How did you end up here?”
You smile sheepishly and scratch the back of your neck. “During that first fight, I got pushed back far enough into the wall. It spun around and next thing I knew, I was in another room. I saw the monsters on the far end and figured that it would be better to not be spotted. I snuck out and only ran into more monsters so I kept going. Next thing I know I ended up down here and couldn’t not fight back.”
“Where did you even get the ax?”
“I stole it.”
Wild snickers and finally lets you go. His hands rest on your shoulders, rubbing them affectionately. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
You grin in return, putting on a smirk. “I just pretended they were customers on Black Friday. I’ve always wanted to fend them off with a stick.”
He has no idea what that means. “Ok- but you had an ax and they were monsters.”
“...High stakes Black Friday shoppers.”
Wild hangs his head in defeat. He tries his hardest to not laugh at your facial expression. It seems as if you know what you’re talking about at least, so it’s a small comfort. “Alright. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
“Are the others waiting for us?” You take his hand, stepping in time with him as he takes a good look around this new area. For the better part, it looks like a ditch with no way in or out- except for above.
“Sooomething like that.” Wild chews on his lip, switching to his climbing gear. He picks you up with zero hesitation, throwing you onto his back and he begins to scale the wall. You yelp and shriek, hitting his back as he climbs.
“Hey! A warning would have been great!”
“Hang on. I got this.”
“...Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
You snort. He’s ignoring your tone on purpose. Slowly, you adjust yourself on his back so you don’t fall off and wait until he’s reached the top. Once he lets you down, you smack the back of his head.
He blocks it effortlessly, leaning in instead to kiss your cheek. There’s laughter on his breath as he checks you out once more. “I hope you're ready for a lot of walking. I’ll have you know that we are very lost.”
“Are we?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Oh.” You think for a moment and look back at Wild. You end up chewing on your lip as well. “Are we in trouble?”
“You? No. Me? Most definitely.”
#linked universe#linkeduniverse#linked universe x reader#lu x reader#lu wild#the title was a placeholder#and it stuck#it has nothing to do with the story ^.^*
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RE: Ruidusborn superstition - It's weird because Matt has had several opportunities to make it about persecution and hasn't. Laura could've made it a stronger point in her backstory with Gelvaan and didn't. This rounding up Ruidusborn and throwing them in jail is a theoretical crime that a bad guy in a cult told them might happen.
Dealing with the unfair persecution of non Vanguard Ruidusborn in the fallout of this could be interesting to explore, but a) it hasn’t happened yet and b) still entirely the fault of the Vanguard for, ya know, all the crime. I just don’t get why some folks aren’t exploring the actual interesting conflict in front of them (i.e. being tied to something inherently destructive, your parent using you as a justification for her crimes, etc.) and instead make it about some secret twist coming that will totally make Liliana and the Vanguard “correct” actually in order to (I assume?) justify Imogen’s brief consideration of them and dunk on Orym for having the audacity to not be objective about the organization that killed his family.
Hey anon,
This is a very good point re: the actual conflicts present. I know I've been guilty of going hard on Liliana and the thing is I do find her a profoundly compelling and sympathetic villain. I think she was placed in an impossible position by Predathos imbuing her with troubling and at times painful powers; that despite having good intentions with regards to the nature of Ruidus (there is a lot of value in both studying it and in concealing its nature, depending on your perspective) people other than Ludinus were unable to give her answers and so she was easy prey for his cult; and she has since been driven by these motivations so far down the road of the Ruby Vanguard that even when the daughter she has believed herself for so long to be protecting tries to give her an out and asks her why she's doing this, she can't answer but is terrified of leaving. She is very sympathetic. She is very much a villain. And yes, I'll cover Orym in a second.
The following is, by necessity due to the nature of what I want to discuss, going to touch on some real-world politics though mostly in the sense of abstract strategy with very few specific actual positions. I want to note that we are talking about a fictional work here, and while I do have some presumptions regarding the people advocating for the Vanguard, they are just that - presumptions. I will only say that if this is how the people advocating for the Vanguard engage with people in real-world activism (if they partake in that in the first place), this may be a revealing insight into why they are perhaps less than successful.
Every argument in favor of killing the gods ultimately presupposes killing the gods is correct. They are all, ultimately, either tautological (we should kill the gods because they are deserving of death) and assume that the only objective conclusion is "we should kill the gods", therefore anything other than "we should kill the gods" cannot be objective.
I may be repeating myself since I've said this a lot since the last episode but: there as a truly bone-chilling lack of empathy in thestatement that Orym needs to stop bringing up his dead family and get over it and be objective (read: agree with the premise that the gods should be killed). Actually, if you are a person capable of perceiving others as people, you will likely realize that it is cruel and absurd to expect someone to say "this group murdered my family, but because they did so with the correct motivations, I shall stop mentioning it." As you indicated, it's bizarre that Orym is expected to set the wholesale murder - deliberately set up with no hope of resurrection, just to twist the knife - aside, but Imogen is never expected to set aside the (let's face it, extremely tenuous, given that Liliana's been absent for over a quarter-century) feelings about her mother, a person who recruits child soldiers, turned Vax into an orb, and is a general in the death cult that murdered Orym's husband and father. Like, in a real-world scenario, someone in Orym's position very well might have just left over this. Your friends keep failing to consider your trauma? Perhaps it's time to, painful as it may be, find friends who will be sensitive. [I don't want to focus on the shipping or character dynamic aspects with that particularly argument against Orym, but this is a fictional work and I do think another running theme in all sorts of discourse is that you do not need to justify your ships as logical, and when you do, you really do sound like "why doesn't Ross, the largest friend, simply eat all the other friends." There are logical reasons why Orym might not want to talk with, for example, Fearne or Ashton; but also the heart wants what it wants, and again, if you aren't truly ignorant about the way human psychology works you have to acknowledge that.]
Before I move on to other items I want to note I've as of late seen attempts not just to discredit Orym but to pathologize his behavior as self-harming or moral OCD or a failure to get fully over grief (again, an expectation that is not just devoid of empathy but also sets the standard of 'get over grief' as "agrees with me") and not just "hey, this group killed my husband and father in front of me and I understandably will not budge on this particular front. So there's also a growing ableist push, here, because someone doesn't agree with you and will not agree with you and also might want to kiss someone different than whom you want them to kiss.
As of late, the banner of those wronged by the gods has shifted from any of Bells Hells to those of Aeor, and that is a bad sign in a D&D campaign. If you need to set aside the PCs in order to rely on NPCs who have not shown up in the current narrative? You are clinging to a melting iceberg, my man. (More so after invoking FCG as one of the victims of Aeor's demise, rather than someone created to be used for malicious purposes by Aeor; and even more so after they destroyed themself specifically in heroic sacrifice to save the rest of the party from a Vanguard general.). But more seriously, the focus on Aeor feels reminiscent of advocacy for the unborn; or, to take a page from my own personal experiences and move this back into a fandom realm, the way people will frequently more loudly decry antisemitism for depictions of goblins than for, say, the fact that I don't know of an American synagogue that hasn't experienced a bomb threat in the past 10 years. It's very easy to advocate for corpses or fetuses over the living, or for fictional characters over real people who might be less than perfect. Much easier to ensure they never do such inconvenient things as disagree with you or have their own suggestions or be complicated. It hearkens back to some of the conversations I and others had earlier this campaign about a denial of agency because by making characters victims "stripped of choice," (always that phrasing) suddenly they can't do wrong. They make for a shit story, but at least you can feel morally pure about your flavorless cardboard that ultimately means nothing in-world or out. (And if they don't have agency, that means your morality pet can't run away. Or blow themselves up in a stunning rejection of your argument.)
Returning to the Vanguard: an ongoing discussion in activist spaces (and internet ones as well) is that there's a weird ignorance of optics as an important factor in activism. I know it seems frustrating - why can't people just see that this cause is just - but optics have always been a crucial part of any successful movement. I mean, even if you do believe that we need to do more to combat climate change - and I do - my, and most people's response to the environmental activists who keep throwing soup or paint on artwork is "ugh, this again?" I mean, functionally, while the cause is far more just, it's not terribly distinct from the weird-ass He Gets Us ad campaign; most people are going to say "and you're doing this instead of anything helpful...why?" The Vanguard's optics SUCK. Sure, they've fomented some unrest, but it is an unfortunate truth that the vast majority of people will prefer the inherent violence of a stable system that they are used to over violent unrest. For a successful coup or radical change, either you need to strike at the seat of power extremely quickly or you need to show that you are the more, for lack of a better term, civilized option, and the Vanguard has failed utterly in both these. You're going to get a few places like Hearthdell (though, really, how long will that last given that they got rid of the temple without a scrap of help from Ludinus) but you're going to get a lot of places where city dwellers say "ugh, these stupid crystals are so fucking loud, could this motherfucker shut up" and you're also going to get no shortage of places that say "my family member was taken in by this cult" or "these guys murdered my professor". The rightness or wrongness of the Vanguard's politics aside, a lot of people in-world are likely to side with Orym - these people are murderers who disturb the peace and we should stop them. The cause is lost. Is it, in some absolute sense, fair that people will judge you more for how you convey a message than what the message is? No, although if you convey it in rivers of blood, then, perhaps, yes. But it is, fair or not, often true.
Which brings me back to Orym. I think the reason people are stooping so low specifically to malign and discredit Orym is because he brings all of the above uncomfortably to light. He's aligned with Keyleth, who quite frankly until pretty recently was, within the fandom, partly as (understandable) backlash to the hate she received, and partly because she was, if nothing else, always portrayed as someone deeply attuned to the human costs, treated as a morally infallible authority; and she is no friend to the gods yet still believes their demise is far too great a risk to take. Again, thinking of yourself as Exandria's equivalent of the man on the street (Imahara Joe the Plumber?), are you going to listen to "those people killed my husband and father to prove a hypothesis so that they could tether the moon?" or "my mom, who left me when I was two years old and never came back or sent a letter, is one of those people?" And that's assuming Imogen's even going to make that argument, which, as her actions indicate, she's probably not going to. But most of all I think they really don't like that Orym isn't backing down from "That is the blade that killed my father and husband. She is not right." He's kept to this story the entire time, while the positions of others have evolved. And he's telling the truth. Every time he says this, I think anyone who isn't actually a complete black hole of empathy must confront how much of their humanity they are supressing just to make a poorly-argued point about a D&D show and I'd imagine that can't make one feel very good.
I think people are terrified of Orym's conviction, because he has shown, time and time again, that he is not going to be swayed. I don't think, in fact, that he's going to be swayed by seeing Aeor, should that happen, since Aeor was destroyed a thousand years before he, Will, or Derrig were born, and their murders failed to undo that harm in any way. A really good way to turn people away from your cause, even if it's a good one, is killing those they love. And again, it's fine if you see that position as unfair, or ignorant, or even amoral. It's also extremely true. And I think people realize it's true, given that the only defenses I've seen for Liliana have been "well, but she's Imogen's mother" and "well, it's shockingly easy for people to fall into a cult, because this has happened to my family members." Clearly, we agree that people will place personal connections and the pain of those close to them over ideology. Orym's is just really inconvenient for some people, and so he must be discredited.
In the end: the people in the story who at every turn choose manipulation, indoctrination, violence, subjugation, and conquest are saying "This is the way; you just have to trust me." Is it any surprise most people watching the show are saying "No, I don't think I will"?
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on trust, being a creative, and fan support
from what i can tell, the reality is that steven, ryan, and shane make content (primarily) for themselves. they make content they want to make. they're trying to make content they're really proud of and excited for. any creator/artist can tell you that being excited for your own work and being the #1 cheerleader of your work is the main driving force that 1) gets work done and 2) makes the art good. for a creative, passion is hugely important. and it is a very good thing that the boys are compelled to want to up the quality and production of their shows, because that means there's a passion there that they're trying to nurse.
now, if the content they want to make requires more money, they're allowed to ask for more money. even though success in their line of work requires views and a certain level of fan support, they're allowed to act for themselves and their own creations. they're allowed to advocate for the art they want to make, art that maybe the fans aren't asking for. yes, it does shatter the misconception that they're doing all this exclusively for the fans. but it shouldn't be viewed as a breach of trust for them to simply ask that of their fans. and imo it shouldn't even be that surprising since that's the main reason they left buzzfeed in the first place—feeling creatively stifled, and feeling like they could make things they're really passionate about, if only they could make the space for themselves.
i think with all that in mind, i would say a lot of the common arguments against the move are essentially rendered void and misplaced. in the end, if someone really hated the move and felt betrayed, they could've just packed up shop and stopped watching; a lot of people did not do that, and i think their inability to cut ties with something they didn't like and was generally harmless was a fault of their own. BUT the only argument that might still stand is this: the bottom line is that if watcher won't listen to what the fans want, watcher won't last.
you're right! they won't. that's probably why they backtracked on the move.
but then i ask you what you truly want as a fan. the main "want" i've heard from people is for watcher to cut down on production/quality, and just focus on the real magic, that is the humor and chemistry between our watcher boys.
but what if watcher knows this and they still decide that they want something else? again, what if watcher wants to focus on creating something larger than two guys cracking jokes on a crappy handheld camera? if they only ever followed the fans' desires over their own, and all their videos from now on was just them shooting the shit on camera, maybe that would be just fine for you! maybe you'd love that content! but would you really be supporting watcher in the end, or would you just be supporting the versions of themselves they molded for you? could you really be a fan of theirs if you denied them the mere attempt at becoming the creatives they truly wanted to be? is getting exactly what you want all the time worth making life shittier and more stifling for the people giving it to you? is that what you wanted when you first followed watcher from buzzfeed?
#watcher#watcher entertainment#thoughts#discourse#i'm gonna get hate for this i've only accepted it#to shun any creative from asking for financial support is to shun them from creating the art they want to create#and as a person of free will you're allowed to do that!#but if you do that while still asking for the art... imo you're a hypocrite who's wasting everyone's time and energy#there is simply no changing my mind on that
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safe and sound | n.rk
in which a stranger tells you the things you want to hear most.
pairing — academic overachiever reader x stranger ni-ki, hurt/comfort
w/c — 1.4k
tw — reader’s kinda depressed and has terrible self-esteem, mention of throwing self out a window
the ink burns red, red, red.
you’re fighting it, fighting yourself. eyes stinging as everyone around you mills about asking for scores. tests like these are everything, to overachieving students like the ones in your class.
except you, that is.
your friends come over, but their hands on your shoulders are icy even though it’s the middle of april. “how’d you do? it wasn’t as bad as i thought, but you never know with those teachers.”
“you first.” stalling for time, you force your lips into what has to be the most strained smile ever. miracle they don’t see through it. you pray they never will.
your friends rattle off a few scores. not stellar, but good enough. not a disaster, like you-
no, no. you can’t do this here. not now.
subtly you turn your paper over so they can’t see the score, grinning again. “that’s pretty good.” do they get the hint? maybe not, but eventually they move on to find someone else to bother. you thank god for that little mercy they’re giving you, at the very least.
unfair. unfair, unfair, unfair-
the bell rings, and the others start picking up their bags to leave. and if your friends try to drag you to the mall, you shrug and whip out some random worksheet that isn’t even due in the next week. or maybe you don’t. it’s hard to remember when you’re using up any energy you have left trying not to throw yourself out the window.
pretty soon it’s just a few girls left, but it’s not for another twenty minutes that they all leave. and you just sit there, letting the crimson burn into your fingers, your colourless cheeks, your chapped lips. red is shame. red is failure. and you let it stew in your stomach and pray it gets digested before any custodian comes to check on you at the end of the school day when he comes to lock up. god forbid anyone see you like this, the resentment roiling and turning in your gut.
the silence is deafening. blood roars in your ears, even as the school bell chimes and you hear the last of the footballers outside cheer. how the hell is anyone happy at all, and you’re just sitting there withering away in your own self-made prison? you can’t even cry, god knows you don’t even deserve it, because this really is your fault. your fault for being too hesitant, too panicked, while everyone else goes on with you still hanging in the balance grasping for just one chance.
maybe now you’ll never prove yourself. maybe this is it, the final nail in the coffin that destroys everything you’ve ever worked for. three failing grades in the same day. screwed up all your interviews this week. it’s as though you’re cursed to defile everything you touch — damned if you hope, damned if you don’t.
the classroom door must have clicked open, because before you can scramble to your feet to leave, there’s a boy standing in front of your desk. he’s got this weird look in his eyes, all calculating and scrutinising. it’s as though his line of sight is a laser that pierces open everything you try to stuff under your skin. twirling between his fingers is a little key, presumably for the classroom doors. “didn’t expect anyone to be here at this hour.”
you’ve seen him around before. he’s in the class next to you - what was he, their class rep? either way, you can’t quite place his name, but his presence alone is enough to get you on your feet. “s-sorry, i’ll get going now.”
but as you haphazardly shove your things into your backpack, the test paper flutters to the ground in slow motion, landing right as his feet. oh no no no don’t pick it up don’t-
but of course it finds its way into his hands, and you can tell he’s trying not to peek but he sees anyway. that awful, awful 12/25 on your paper. and you avert your gaze as you take it from his grasp, because how could you possibly expect anything but pity from a complete stranger?
and gosh, do you detest pity.
“wait.” before you can run off, his hand wraps around your shoulder, the unexpected warmth stopping you in your tracks. he’s studying you again, trying to read what you imagine must be an impossibly despondent look on your face. it would be rude to shrug him off, and you almost do, until he gestures out the window. “it’s…raining,” he gulps out. and what do you know, it is. just your luck.
you shiver, tightening your grip on the straps of your backpack. “i’ll be fine.”
“at least take my umbrella. i’ll walk you to the gate.”
“…okay.”
so you walk in silence down three floors, each step sending tingles shooting up your previously-numb legs. maybe the boy can tell, because he swaps sides with you so you can grab onto the railing. maybe you wanted the company a little more than you’d like to admit.
as you finally reach where the shelter ends, you look away. “keep your umbrella, i’ll be alright.”
but there’s a strange grimace on his face as he pushes the umbrella into your unclenched hands. “no, you’re not. at least, you won’t be. not unless you keep yourself safe and dry. wouldn’t want you to get sick.”
you can’t help it. the words slip out before you even realise they’re on your tongue. “why do you even care?” oh shit, that came out ruder than you’d intended, and you want to slap your hand over your mouth and apologise a hundred times over, but it’s too late for that now.
the boy pauses, his silence unreadable as he eyes you once again. it’s starting to be a little more than unnerving, the way he sees through barriers you didn’t even know you had up. "because i don’t think you deserve to sit in an empty classroom alone trying not to cry…? you looked awful.”
“...thanks.”
he slaps his palm over his head. “no, not like that. i meant that you looked like your world had come crashing down. it…it hasn’t, okay? you’ll be alright. one step after another, and you’ll get wherever you wanna go. you’re trying as hard as you can and you should be proud of yourself for that.”
how can a complete stranger know exactly what you’ve always wanted to hear? your chest aches with the affirmation of a nameless boy, who’s smiling at you with a softness that makes you want to throw your arms around him and sob, decorum be damned. he’s so good. too good.
at last, you take hold of the umbrella, an inexplicable warmth blossoming in your chest and throat. you can feel the flood of tears you’ve been holding back the whole afternoon threatening to surface, but this time it’s triggered by the gentleness with which he opens the umbrella with a soft click, grinning at you as he gives your shoulder a light squeeze. “go on. don’t worry about returning the umbrella, okay?”
“i’ll see you around, y/n.”
and with that, he sprints off into the pouring rain, the file he’s holding over his head almost comical. the giggle that escapes you startles you out of your stupor, and it’s only then that you realise you’ve been staring, watching him go.
but he’ll be back. maybe not tomorrow, or the day after, but you’ll see him again. and you’ll wait.
you’re so lost in thought that you don’t even think to question why nameless boy knows your name.
with a crash, nishimura riki bursts through the front door, hair dripping water all the way along the corridor.
“riki! you’re making the whole place wet! where’s your umbrella?”
he sighs, shaking off his waterlogged shoes. despite his sister’s constant nagging and the rainwater soaking through his clothes, there’s a giddy smile on his face. “lent it to a friend.”
“...it was a girl, wasn’t it?”
at this point, he doesn’t even care anymore, flopping to the ground as his wet clothes slap against the wooden floors. “you don’t understand, nee-san. she’s the girl. i finally, finally got to talk to her. I’m-”
“GET OFF THE FLOOR ALREADY BISCO’S LICKING UP THE RAINWATER!”
a/n — hi pookies it’s been a while…i’m not built to be an academic weapon lololol. my final exam of the term’s next thursday, so i’ll probably be able to churn out more stuff after that. immediately after i type this im gg to pomodoro my way thru life again send help-
ALSO NO THIS IS NOT A CRY FOR HELP okay goodbye lovelies (@stariikis consider this a thank you for the jw fic)
#enhypen nishimura riki#nishimura riki#nishimura riki x reader#nishimura riki x you#nishimura riki x y/n#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen niki#enhypen x you#enhypen x y/n#enhypen fanfic#enhypen drabbles#enhypen angst#enhypen au#enhypen fanfiction
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The Hot Mic Incident (Feel Like Falling in Love)
Sukuna x Reader
A sequel to this and part 2 of a larger (unnamed) series. I do recommend reading part 1 first to be able to understand certain references in this one.
If someone asked you who was most likely to accidentally spill the beans about your new (and still secret) relationship with Sukuna, your answer would have to be your white-haired co-star. But when an unintentional hot mic reveals to the world what wasn't ready to be shared, let's just say it wasn't Gojo Satoru at fault for once.
Notes: A continuation of my Sukuna x Reader celebrity!au inspired by music (though only loosely, so don't look too closely at lyrical meaning). In this case, it's Feel Like Falling in Love by MeloMance. I'm writing this series as inspiration strikes, so these fics may not always be posted according to the series' linear timeline. I will make sure to note when each chapter takes place in relation to the others (this one takes place a couple months after part 2). I will also get around to making a master list of them in chronological reading order as more comes. I hope you enjoy:)
Content: bandmember Sukuna x actor female Reader (referred to as such, but left descriptively vague), no y/n, manager Nanami, bodyguard Toji, actor Gojo, other favorites who have small supporting rolls, all fluff, crack, and humor, innuendos, illusions to sexting, but no actual sexting occurs (sorry), so please read accordingly, out of character and fluffy Sukuna. Please let me know if I miss something!
WC: 4.3k
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“Isn’t it a little early in the morning to be sending naughty pictures to your boyfriend? It’s like 7:00 am.”
You jumped half a foot in the air and clambered to juggle your phone in your hands before it tumbled out and slid four feet across the backstage floor of the talk show studio.
“You need to be wearing a bell, Satoru,” you hissed over your shoulder at the menace that had appeared behind you so suddenly, “and it was not an inappropriate photo. I was completely dressed.”
You teetered over in your heels to grab your phone off the floor and prayed that it wasn’t cracked down the middle, lest you make Satoru cough up punitive damages to make up for it.
“In my experience, being fully clothed is not a prohibiting factor.”
Satoru snickered at the look of disgust on your face and gave you a small shrug, “Who knows, maybe Sukuna’s into th—,”
You threw yourself forward to try and cover his mouth with your hands, but even in heels you still lacked the necessary height to make contact. You settled for pinning him in place with a glare.
“Will you keep quiet please? I swear, if you and your fat mouth reveal this to anyone, I’m going to have Toji leak that photo of you from one of our nights working on that period piece last year!”
You watched with glee as Satoru’s eyes widened in abject horror, and he reached out to grip the tops of your arms and drag you close to his face. A quick peek from your peripheral confirmed that the staff lingering around the studio probably hadn’t been close enough to hear, but they were certainly watching with poorly disguised interest.
Were you and Satoru contracted into a false relationship in order to help promote the upcoming movie the two of you were co-starring in? No, that only happened in fiction. Was it firmly implied by the producer that some offscreen tension and chemistry during the course of the film would promise to be advantageous to you both? Yes, and you presumed that in the pursuit of a paycheck some simple flirting couldn’t hurt anyone…though that was a year or so ago, and you were now closer to sending Satoru to an early grave than jumping in bed with him like fans and media were hoping for.
“Suguru swore he made you delete any evidence of that!”
You stuck your tongue out at him and pulled back against the hold he had on your arms, but he didn’t loosen his grip in the slightest.
“He did, but didn’t bother to check with Toji. Looks like that weird phobia you two have of him is coming to bite you in the ass now.”
Satoru released you with a shiver and took a large step back, his eyes roaming the expanse of the studio as if he expected your bodyguard to be summoned out of thin air at the sheer mention of his name. You didn’t blame him, however, because Toji had a habit of doing just that.
“It’s not a weird phobia,” Satoru muttered, rubbing his throat absentmindedly and pouting down at you, “it’s PTSD.”
You snorted. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“It was too!” Satoru cried, “He punched me in the throat and nearly sent Suguru through a wall!”
“You and your idiot manager were trying to break into my house at 2:00am, drunk as skunks I might add! What did you think was going to happen? We barely knew each other then.”
Satoru looked down at you aghast, stunned that you didn’t sympathize with his emotions. You considered it even more bewildering that he seriously thought that you would pick his side. You were about to let him know such when your phone dinged twice in quick succession, effectively capturing your attention.
“Look,” you huffed at him, waving your phone in front of his face so he could catch a glimpse of the time (and hopefully ignore who’s name had popped up under it), “we only have like thirty more minutes before we have to get out there and I need some time to decompress, so I’m going back to the dressing room.” You started to turn away before throwing over your shoulder, “Don’t get into any trouble in the meantime.”
Satoru rolled his eyes at you, and—in that intolerable way of his—couldn’t let you possibly have the last dig at him and jerked his head to the phone in your hand.
“It’s not me I’m worried about. Have fun sext—,”
“Goodbye, Satoru!” You made yourself scarce before he could say anything else, eager to find the privacy of your dressing room so you could fawn over your boyfriend in peace.
By the time you made it into the safety of your dressing room a few minutes later, your heart was pounding—and not just from getting lost in all the maze-like hallways—and you tried to decide if hiding in the attached closet to talk with Sukuna on the phone or sitting on the couch in the open with a lovesick grin on your face would look less suspicious should someone walk in. Neither option promised much.
Before you could make up your mind, your phone was ringing, so in order to be able to answer the call as quickly as you could, you dove for the couch and tried not to sound completely breathless when you answered with a quiet, “hi, good morning.”
“Hey,” Sukuna replied back to you, voice equally soft but tinged with a dry hoarseness that usually followed him out of sleep. It made your toes wiggle uncontrollably against the floor.
“Oh I’m sorry, did I wake you with the picture? That wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to keep you up to date with my day,” you murmured to him.
“Don’t worry, you didn’t. And besides, even if it did, it’s not a bad way to start my day.” His words made you melt back into the cushions and you kicked your feet in silent giddiness before tucking them underneath you. “You look stunning, by the way.”
“Thank you,” you giggled, “though getting here to get ready while it was still dark outside was borderline torture. I’d say that it’s an unfair slight against women, but I’m pretty sure Satoru’s hair and skincare routine took just as long.”
Your boyfriend let out a disgusted scoff at the mention of your costar’s name, “Please tell me that q-tip is behaving himself.”
“Sukuna!” You chastised, though you couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up in your throat at the comparison, “You can’t call him that…even if it is somewhat accurate.”
“It’s one hundred percent accurate,” he argued, “but I won’t call him that to his face…probably.”
You shook your head in exasperated amusement, nibbling on the bottom skin of your lip before continuing on, “He’s behaving for the most part, aside from his two insinuations that our conversations this morning were of a sexual nature.”
Sukuna was silent on the other end for a moment before replying back in a low voice with something that had you choking on your spit, “Would you like them to be?”
He could be heard laughing as you nearly coughed your way into a premature death.
“I’m about to go in front of a live audience and on live tv!” You exclaimed.
“That’s not a ‘no’,” Sukuna pointed out hopefully.
“No.”
He let out a dramatic sigh and you reached over to a nearby coffee table to unscrew a bottle of water and chug half of it down in the hopes it would help cool you off.
“Speaking of,” he said, sounding just a tad hesitant, “I’ll uh, tune in to the show to watch if that’s okay with you.”
You heart skipped a silly little beat at the idea that he wanted to watch some cheesy talk show just to get a glimpse of you.
“I don’t mind,” you told him, “but it’s going to make me a little nervous knowing you’ll be watching as I stumble through this interview.”
“Don’t be,” he chuckled, though something in his voice sounded just slightly wicked, “now you’ll get an idea of how I feel when I have to perform.”
The innuendo had whatever sweet reassurance you had poised at the tip of your tongue fly out of your head, and you scrambled to come with a response that could be said back without implying anything further. The swinging open of your door, however, saved you from the task.
“Hey, Princess,” Toji called as he leaned his torso around the door, “you need to be out there in five.”
You startled from your spot on the couch, surprised to realize that your leg was bouncing from where it was propped up on your knee and your finger was twirling a piece of your hair.
Love made you stupid.
“Toji,” you snapped, “have you ever heard of knocking?”
Your bodyguard rolled his eyes, “I did. Twice.”
Heat flooded your cheeks, especially because you could hear Sukuna cackling through the phone, confirming he heard what Toji just said.
“Oh…I’ll be right there, okay?” You shooed him off with a flick of your fingers and Toji smirked at you as he began closing the door.
“Don’t be late or I’m sending Gojo in to fetch you.”
The door closed shut before you could get a word in and you leaned back with a heavy sigh before returning your attention to your phone call, “I’ve to go. I’ll call you when the whole thing is over and I’m back home, yeah?”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll be waiting for you. Good luck, okay?”
You weren’t sure if it was all in your head, but you swore you heard a hint of disappointment in his voice.
“Thank you. Bye, Sukuna,”
“Bye, Princess,” he sing-songed, and you couldn’t help but smile as you clicked off the call.
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Twenty minutes later found you and Satoru sitting next to each other on a platform stage surrounded by bright lights, a large live audience sprawled in front of you, and an all too perceptive interviewer who had started the interrogation just a couple minutes prior. You wiggled in your seat, uncomfortable from the various wires and clips that secured your mic to your back under your dress.
“So,” she began, nailing you with a look that promised nothing good, “you and Satoru were supposed to film an advert on the beach early this last summer, but it ended up being you and the so-called ‘King of Curses.’ Tell me, how did that come about?”
You hesitated a moment, thankful the question wasn’t anything too invasive, but you were still hoping to avoid talking about Sukuna altogether. Usually Nanami would heavily emphasize what could and couldn’t be spoken of before these appearances, but since he wasn’t here, you assumed it had been left to Geto. In that case, you knew he couldn’t be bothered since predicting whatever was going to come out of Satoru’s mouth during these things was an art not yet mastered.
“Well,” you started, clasping your hands together so they didn’t shake, “it really just came about out of well-timed convenience and a favor to the director. We didn’t want to waste any of the crew’s time or have to worry about re-aligning schedules, so Sukuna saved the day by offering to help. Plus, ‘The Curses’ new song at the time got to debut in it, so it was a win-win for everyone! Except for maybe Satoru, of course.”
In an effort to divert attention from your answer, you threw Satoru a faux-friendly smile and urged him with a widening of your eyes to explain his part.
“Oh, yeah,” he replied, adjusting himself in the seat and setting a convincing pout on his face. “I just happened to get pulled into something personal last minute and was going to be late to the shoot. I’m appreciative that the “King of Curses” was able to step in and save the day.”
You didn’t miss the obvious sarcasm dripping from Sukuna’s nickname when it came out of Satoru’s mouth, and you had to hide a giggle behind your hand at the thought of your boyfriend cursing at his TV at home.
“But,” Satoru continued, jolting you into awareness when he turned to you and ran a long finger down the bare skin of your arm, “I’m super bummed I missed our chance to get wet together.” The smirk on his face was downright evil, and you just knew your face was a picture of stunned disbelief. The audience was tittering with amusement.
“You wear me out, Satoru,” you hissed at him, batting his hand away from where it still traced slowly over your skin.
Satoru laughed and threw his head back against his chair before taking a quick look at the camera and then leaning in towards you until your noses nearly touched, “I’m flattered you’d admit that on live television.”
Your jaw, and everyone else’s for that matter, fell to the floor and you could only gawk at him. Over the interviewer’s shoulder, you could see Toji backstage laughing his ass off as Geto stood at a respectable distance next to him shaking his head.
We better get those damned bonuses from the producer.
“Well!” The interviewer laughed a bit nervously, breaking the tension in the room and turning to the main camera in front of you all, “That was surely something. We have to go to a commercial, but we’ll be back with these two in just a couple minutes!”
The outro music sounded over the speakers and you and Satoru were released from your chairs to scurry backstage. In between sending friendly waves to the audience and starting the walk backstage, you flipped the switch on your mic off.
“I’m going to kill you, Satoru,” you spat under your breath as the two of you left stage.
The idiot had the gall to laugh, and in your frustration you took a couple large steps to get a head of him. And because the universe didn’t hate you enough, you felt the toe of your heel catch on a stray cable on the floor, pitching you off balance. In your flailing, you reached out to grasp at whatever object could possibly break your fall, and in doing so latched on to Satoru’s sleeve, jerking the poor bastard off his feet and onto you as you both tumbled to floor in a heap of tangled limbs.
Your back hit the ground first, your mic digging painfully into your back with a suspicious crack of plastic followed by Satoru landing on your front, pushing all the air from your lungs with a painful “oomph.”
You stared at the ceiling of the studio, wondering how quickly things would go if one of the giant studio lights fell from above and crushed you under it. You were never going to live this down, especially since it happened still in view of the cameras and the audience if the raucous laughter was anything to go by.
“You know, I never imagined I would actually get you under me,” Satoru mused, staring down at you for a second before lifting his giant self off and then pulling you up to follow. He held a hand against your lower back as the two of you made it to the cover of backstage.
“Honestly,” you admitted, still a little dazed, “I never would have thought so either.”
Staff fluttered around you a minute later, offering water, smoothing your hair out, and ensuring neither of you were hurt…at least not physically. Your pride was a whole other matter.
“Oh no,” you groaned, catching Satoru’s attention once everyone had cleared out around you, “he was watching. He just saw me eat it on live television.”
Your co-star cocked a confused eyebrow at you, “You mean Sukuna was watching?”
“Oh please,” you muttered, “like you didn’t guess. And yes, Sukuna was watching, and now I’m not going to be able to look him in the eye this evening.”
There was a general increased noise coming from the front of the studio, but you were too preoccupied with your own embarrassment to think much of it.
“And why is that?” Satoru asked.
You threw your hands up purely because you didn’t know what else to do with them, “I don’t really know exactly, but there is still something supremely humiliating about doing something embarrassing like that in front of my new boyfriend. He makes me nervous enough as is.”
There was a sudden outbreak of hollers and clapping from out front, and you swung your head around to look and see if anyone had a clue as to what was going on. It took you a minute before you could see Toji running at you with a wild look on his face.
“Toji, what the hell—?” You didn’t get to finish your question before he was spinning you around by the shoulders, yanking down the zipper of your dress, and ripping the mic from your back. You shrieked in disbelief as you whirled back around to figure out what in the world he had been thinking.
“Toji!”
“Your mic has been on this whole time,” he growled, showing you the blinking green light on the cracked plastic box. You swore you had turned it off, but seeing as how it took the brunt of the impact when you fell on it earlier, you supposed it wasn’t unlikely that it had turned back on.
With sudden cold rushing through your body and a sick ball of dread settling into your gut, you looked between Satoru’s dumbfounded expression and Toji’s face of pure exhaustion and immediately decided that if the ground wasn’t going to swallow you up whole, you were going home.
“Get me out of here!”
——————————————————————————————————————————
After finally making it to some undisclosed back alley across from the talk show studio, you were assisted out from your crouch in a trash bin by studio security and ushered to a small nearby out-cove to wait for your bodyguard.
And you just wanted to be famous soooo bad. Glamorous life, my ass.
As luck would have it, you were made aware today of just how famous you, and especially Sukuna, were. For all the grief you gave Satoru about not accidentally spilling the beans about your newly minted—and still secret—relationship with Sukuna, you were the one that had the unintended pleasure of doing the grand reveal. So now the world was free to stir whatever frenzy they saw fit, from the intensely devoted fangirls of Sukuna’s band, to the entire acting community, and the worst of all…your mother. You suspected you were a couple minutes away from an angry phone call demanding an explanation as to why she had to find out from the internet that you were dating a boy with pink hair and face tattoos and how much longer it would be until she had grandchildren.
All of this chaos and Nanami just happened to be in a whole other country.
You suddenly regretted sending him on that vacation.
A sharp squeal of tires caught your attention and you looked up to see a shiny sports car peal around the corner and come to a rumbling stop a couple feet in front of you. Before you could even begin to guess who it could be, the head of your bodyguard appeared as the tinted black window of the passenger side door rolled down.
“Get in the car,” Toji hissed, eyes darting to and fro.
You wasted no time and nearly dove through the open window in your haste to escape broad daylight. You had just finished buckling your seatbelt in the back when Toji mashed the gas pedal and the car leapt forward.
“Christ, Toji!” You gasped, clasping the headrest of the seat you were just flung into, “Whose car is this? It’s certainly not yours.”
He snorted. “Yeah, cause you don’t pay me enough.”
“Rude,” you muttered back to him, “and not true.”
You tried to squint out the front windshield to determine where you might be, but brick buildings towered on either side of you still, and you assumed Toji was taking some alternative route home. “Seriously though, whose car is this? It’s not one of mine.”
“Does it matter?”
You rolled your eyes at his bored tone, “Yes, it does. Toji, I’m not your wife, but—”
“Thank God.” He sounded entirely too relieved about that.
“Still rude!” You yelped, but brushed aside the sting of offense to figure out whose leather seats your dress was currently dropping glitter all over. “I’m not your wife, so I don’t particularly care to know what unscrupulous activities you get up to when I’m not keeping you busy—,”
“None,” he deadpanned, shooting you a glare through the rear view mirror.
“—which I’m pretty sure I had you sign a non-compete, but that’s besides the point. I really need you to tell me where you got this car. In case you aren’t aware, my name is going to be plastered on every social media post, blog page, and headline in the next 24 hours and I’d rather that not include my mugshot with “accomplice to grand theft auto” under it. So tell me who this car belongs to right now or I’m jumping out.”
Toji had the audacity to chuckle at you before reaching back to pat your knee.
“Relax a bit. You know I wouldn’t ever put you in harm’s way on purpose. This is Gojo’s car. Ours was being swarmed by the media out front after your little slip up, so I threatened Geto for the idiot’s keys cause I knew it was out back and the quickest way I could get to our little rendezvous point.”
“Oh,” was all you managed to get out. Letting your racing mind settle down a bit, you snuggled deeper into the plush leather seats and kicked your feet up onto the center console. You got two seconds of peace before Toji opened his mouth again.
“I’m going to have to call Nanami.”
“No!” You gasped, springing upright again and feeling a warm sting creep to your eyes as your throat began to tense up. “He’s on vacation! I promised we wouldn’t bother him unless one of us was dying. I’d never forgive myself if he had to come home to clean up my sloppy love life!”
Toji shook his head and shot you a sad smile over his shoulder as he reached for his phone sitting in the front cup holder.
“We may not really have an option, Sweetheart. Not only is Uraume going to be a huge pain to deal with since this could affect Sukuna’s band, but you’ve also got contracts and appearances promised that may get shaken by the fact it’s been revealed to the world that you've been secretly dating the music industry’s favorite ‘hate to love’ rockstar. We can’t fix this without Nanami.”
The panic that had been brewing in your stomach this whole time was starting to make your head spin up, so you blamed it on that when you lurched out of your seat and nearly over Toji’s shoulder to snatch the phone out of his hand before he could hit ‘dial’ on Nanami’s contact.
Your bodyguard swore when you knocked him in the face with your elbow in your clamber and his hand gave a vicious jerk of the wheel that had horns blaring from either side of your car as Toji swerved to correct it. You were thrown back into the seat you had just previously been in and you waited with heaving breaths as the car jolted sideways once more before continuing on straight. The fact you barely missed crashing was a testament to Toji’s reflexes.
“Don’t you ever do stupid shit like that again, you hear me?!” You’d never heard Toji raise his voice at you and it did nothing to help quell the tears about to start pouring from your eyes, “I know you’re stressed and something big has just happened to you, I get it, but that’s no excuse to do something dumb! You just about gave me a heart attack,” he finished, his voice still at a higher volume than normal, but it was softened by the edge of panicked concern and the worried glances he was giving you.
That was enough to push you over the edge.
“I-I’m sorry, Toji,” you sobbed, upset at yourself for messing up again, “I wasn’t thinking, and I don’t want Nanami to feel like he has to babysit me for the rest of his life, or you to think I’m an airhead or something. I also really like Sukuna and I don’t want him to hate me because of what I did!”
You let your head fall into your hands and hiccuped through another shuddering cry as you struggled to get ahold of the overwhelming-ness of it all. You felt Toji’s hand on your knee again.
“Hey, hey, take deep breaths for me. No one’s thinking that, I promise you. And I’m sorry for yelling at you like that. It was wrong. It’s no excuse, but that scared the crap out of me and I thought we for sure were getting into an accident,” he admitted. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
You nodded through your tears, unable to respond to him in any way that was legible.
“Look, we’re almost home. Try and deep breathe for me. Once we get there I’ll help you get comfortable and we’ll figure this out together, okay?”
As was frequent with Toji, you valued his ability to keep you calm when you got into the worst of yourself and you were grateful for his steady confidence. You reached out and clasped the hand he still had stretched back on your knee to give it a squeeze, hoping it could convey all the thanks you had for him. The two of you kept driving in comfortable silence until you felt the car slow and saw a flash of a familiar gate out the front windshield.
“Hey,” Toji started, his voice suspiciously light, “you think Gojo would realize if we never returned his car?”
——————————————————————————————————————————
Thank you for reading! I've got ideas for parts 3 and 4 already, so I'm hoping to work on those in the next coming days.
I'll also be posting this series on AO3 under Katerina_Mar if you would prefer to read there:)
#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x you#toji fushiguro#gojo satoru
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The ghost of Jason who decides to stay with Percy.
kinder, but still creepy - your lover's ghost doesn't want to kill you or hurt you, he just wants to be with you, even if by all laws he is supposed to be in hades.
Percy always feels Jason - a fleeting touch on his cheeks, shoulders and arms, a light breeze or a draft walking in his apartment, the way the electricity hums, a shadow too human to be a play of light that is always next to him, the feelings of familiar but cold hugs at night.
Percy has watched horror movies, he knows what to do... but he doesn't want to part with Jason either, and neither does Jason with him.
Oog anon, this one.
I was thinking about ghost Jason recently. In many ways and senses. I like this idea a lot.
Jason’s ghost haunting Percy, and Percy really struggles with it. A memory of his dead lover, a memory of something he could’ve changed if he had just been there, prophecy be damned. It wasn’t his fault, but to him it was. Having Jason surround him as a ghost, always there, leaving his body cold and shuddering as he laid beside Percy, was an unending mental battle. Jason was attached to Percy, stuck to him with a tie that he couldn’t break and Percy had to struggle to find comfort in the sharp and stark anguish he felt by having Jason here again. Because he couldn’t mourn properly while having his dead boyfriend follow him around, he couldn’t mourn properly when he noticed how the wind would caress him gently or the electricity in his house would flicker whenever Percy said him name, a reminder of “I am here and will be here forever”. But Percy moves through it, the motions are harder, his days are longer, because Jason is here, he’s with him, in ways that matter but these ways can’t make up for what he’s missing. He finds comfort through Jason’s subtle reminders though, slowly but surely they make him.
The others notice subtle differences about Percy since Jason’s ghost has found him, but Nico is the first to bring it up, because of course he can see Jason, not that Jason’s really paid him much mind, too focused on Percy. Nico warns Percy against allowing Jason’s presence to stay, he knows neither would be happy, but he knows it would only kill Percy, one way or another. And knowing that, Percy doesn’t care, but Jason’s ghost, he shifts solemnly and as usual, wordlessly.
This issue in the air now, Jason has been quieter than usual, Percy’s place is warmer and he doesn’t get to feel the cold presence around him as often, not unless he begs and cries. He’s desperate, Jason’s ghost is ill at ease. Jason may be dead, may want with his whole might to be with Percy, but he doesn’t want that by the means of Percy dying as well. He wants to be back with Percy when time says it’s right, not because he’s selfish and not ready to let go and wait that time out. But in the moments he keeps his distance, watching from a point away in the house, where he isn’t sucking Percy’s energy from his body just to be able to announce his present, he can’t help but break his own rules when Percy’s eyes well up with tears. He folds instantly, the contact point between Percy’s body and his incorporeal form buzzing with energy that makes him more powerful, but sucks that power right from Percy’s soul.
The two dance this dance, their wants to be together even after Jason’s death stronger than anything, but Nico puts his foot down for them, Percy looks like hell, he’s exhausted all the time and easily sick. The teen is rough about it all but is easy to give solutions. Sure, these solutions are taxing on him, but he won’t die that’s for sure, and his strength in his power has only been getting better, letting Percy see and speak to Jason on some occasion unless Jason so decides to reincarnate. It’s a save for them both, as uneasy it is to let Jason go, they both go for this. Somehow an easy out but also the hardest thing to do for them.
-
I’ve read a few fics of the dead haunting their past lovers in good ways, either visibly or not, I’ve always really liked them. Plus the ability to choose if they stay with their people or move on to the other side it’s so 😭😭😭
Thank you for your ask anon!
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hihi kneeby!! this is not your fault. you did nothing to cause this, you couldn't do anything to stop it, and i am so so sorry this happened. we are not mad at you. i promise. it's disqus's fault for being so shitty. you're doing great. /gen
<3
i was honestly terrified that somebody would think it was something i did intentionally even though i had no control over them showing up in the first place. that's a big reason i was freaking out so bad if i'm honest. i hate ads as much as you guys, and i wouldn't subject anyone to it even if i did get something out of it (which i wasn't. as you saw, it's something disqus is forcing on people to make them pay for their dumb paid service).
thank you for this, it's nice to have the reassurance that people aren't assuming the worst of me over this whole fiasco. i tried to handle it as quickly as possible and that unfortunately meant the site would have to go offline.
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6 with Loki!! NSFW please (maybe smut? hhaha) he’s saying!!! thankss
DETECTIVE LOKI - JEALOUSY NSFW PROMPT
╰┈➤“It looked like he was trying to flirt with you”
Pairing: David Loki x reader
Word count: 2232
WARNINGS: p in v sex, creampie, slight grinding, possessive sex, biting, marking, swearing, average dirty talk, spanking, palming, semi-public, loki is a little bit of a grump at the start, not super ooc i hope, both of you are a little toxic lol, fingers in mouth. Let's assume birth control is in place here. Lol. Think that's it, there might be more.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
This is actually my first ever published nsfw fic, so please go easy on me <3 Enjoy my loves!
You and Loki had been coworkers for what felt like an eternity by now, he was a diligent person who took his occupation acutely seriously. Which is grounds for why he managed to not only get promoted up to being a sergeant of the sector you worked in, but also have exclusive access to his own private office and dictatorship over other workers' roles. Unmistakably, he is incredible as a detective and supervisor. That being said, he isn't perfect. He’s reckless, arrogant, stubborn, cocky, antisocial, a workaholic and breaking what would be considered a societal rule of workplaces. Don't mess around with your coworker!
You two had been in a secret situationship for around almost a year now, casual but also intense. No-one in your work suspected a thing either, Loki was just as good at hiding things as he was at figuring them out. The thing about casual yet intense secret situationships is that how concrete the “relationship” actually is, could be considered shaky. He’s never really explicitly made it clear to even you what you both are, despite spending almost every waking hour outside of work together whether that be romantic dates, cuddling, sex etc. Did this frustrate you? Yes. You wanted him to be emotionally available and ready for you, to not have to wonder to yourself whether he even considers you an actual partner or not. You'd bring up the question and he would act so stupidly nonchalant about it or say he just wants to “let it go with the flow.”
Does he even give a shit? You sighed to yourself staring at the timed out screen of your computer, leaning back and stretching your back and arms out.
Before you could go back to your daydreams, or work for that matter. You heard one of your coworkers call out your name from across the room.
“Hey! y/n! y/n! C'mere for a sec.” Your coworker Miles announced
Your cheeks widened, Miles was a relatively new guy around your age. He was kind of childish, bright, bubbly and overall just a nice guy. You were assigned to train him and since then he's more or less stuck by your side and been a great coworker for you to do cases and research with.
Making your way over to his desk you spotted a certain someone from the corner of your eye. Loki, walking towards another coworker's desk yet clearly distracted by whatever you were up to. He thinks he's good at having a poker face, and he is. Just not with you, that furrowed eyebrow and light frown said it all. It's mainly your fault he's on high alert right now though, a few nights ago you felt tired of feeling like you were just an undecided casual fling for him. And so you may have.. Accidentally made a point that if he doesn't make a decision on what you guys are, you'll find someone else to be the one for you.
It pissed him off, clearly. But you assumed that you were both over that silly little argument by now since things had been relatively normal, but guesses are that wasn't the case. You and Miles chatted for around ten minutes or so, maybe even less. You giggled a few times here and there and even absent mindedly placed your hand on his shoulder, in the back of your head you realised how this may look to Loki and internally shuddered.
He began to stutter, “oh..oh um.. By the way y/n”
“Yes Miles?”
“I was thinking..um.. Well if you want to at some point we would like.. Maybe hang outside of work? Go to a bar or something?” he continued on “i mean- it's fine if not but y’know.. You're so sweet and kind to me… and well, beautiful.”
You saw from the corner of your eye Loki making his way over, oh boy.
“We are doing work here right, the two of you?” he asked sternly. You rolled his eyes at him “Yes Loki, we are. It's just unlike you, some people have lives outside of work” Miles looked awkwardly between you and Loki, the tension in the air was insanely thick. “Yeah uh.. Sorry about that Loki. I guess I got kind of distracted since y/n is fun to talk to” he smiled before semi-flirtatiously winking at you. Loki didn't twitch a single muscle in his face, you gave Miles an awkward smile to alleviate the atmosphere. Before Loki scoffed and pointed towards your desk “y/n. Off back to your desk please. I have some paperwork I need you to fill.” and then proceeded to turn to miles ``Miles, i know you're new here but flirting and dating is strictly prohibited in the workplace. If I catch that again you will be in trouble.” You huffed and walked away, how hypocritical of him..
It was past 11 pm now, the station was practically empty besides maybe a few less than a dozen people working. Loki had so happened to ask you to stay back to “talk about documents,” but you were well aware of what the conversation was really about. You walked into his office, immediately crossing your arms together.
“Come closer.'' He directed, pointing you to stand next to him as he sat down in his chair finishing up some paperwork. “So, wanna explain what was happening earlier? I saw that. And heard it” he continued on “It looked like he was trying to flirt with you, or maybe you were trying to flirt with him too.”
You extended your hand to his back, slowly moving up to his shoulder and beginning to massage him gently to cool him off. “Well no i wasn't flirting with him, but i didn't realise we were exclusive like that David.” he scoffed, and you huffed in return. “last time i checked our thing was barely even a thing right? Hardly even a label on it,” you began to apply more pressure to his shoulders. “Thats fucking hilarious” he asserted with an unfriendly grin, “So you want us to be an official thing and yet you accept others flirting with you right infront of me, really?” he pushed your hands off him and in response you glared at him. He continued on, “After our little argument the other day you have to have some sort of understanding on why I might be fuckin’ concerned.”
“What? I hardly accepted it..and even so you expect me to just sit around here waiting for you to be ready to label our relationship??? How about you look at the reality here David. You refuse to make the claim on me. Maybe someone like Miles would actually be able to commit and I appreciate the idea of it.”
David looked at you with shame on his face, something strangely comforting considering the argument you were in right now and his usual stubborn self. “Look Y/N, I know.. That i'm not exactly good at this whole thing. I’m so used to being alone that the thought of giving myself fully to someone.. well.. scares me.” he placed face into his palm “I don't want to be uncommitted to you, i want you to be mine. And maybe this has made me realise that.” He wrapped his arm around your waist and guided you to sit on his lap, wheeling his chair back a little for space. “The thought of some little twerp like Miles flirting with you drives me crazy. I know it's selfish but I want you to myself without the fear of uh.. Well, abandonment.”
You stretched your arms around his shoulders and pressed your forehead against his “I'm not leaving you David.. You're all I want.” “So make me yours please, commit me to me..” you whispered to him softly. His breath hitched and he sighed, pressing his lips against yours before tugging at your bottom lip ever so slightly with his teeth. The pinch of it made you squeak, you reached up to his hair and tugged on it tenderly. He pushed you up against him so he could have proper access to your neck, Slowly biting and sucking it between different places to give you light bruises. You moaned, beginning to rock your hips against him to gain some pressure against your clothed pussy. The sound of him growling against your neck as he sucked on the skin vibrated right down to your core, “Fuck this feels good, David” you gasped. “God y/n i want to ravage you right now” he whispered against you before leaning into another deep kiss, you could feel his dick throbbing through his pants as you both swirled and pressed tongues together.
You began to palm him through his pants during your kiss, stroking and feeling up the growing length. “David.. What if we get caught?” you said in between breaths. He choked out a stammered laughed in response “Fuck i don't even know if i care y/n, i need you so badly i wouldn't mind if people found out.” You giggled slightly, staring deeply into his eyes. “That's just your dick talking, but it's pretty empty in the station.. I'm sure it'll be fine.” You used that to cue him to start pulling down your pencil skirt and panties, whilst you unbuttoned his shirt and undressed his lower region halfway down to his thighs. His dick was hard and leaking with precum, his face flushed red. “You look so needy right now dave.” he sighed in response and you snickered as you began to grind your exposed wet pussy against his cock. He began rubbing his sticky hot tip up against your clit for extra stimulation and you whined, settling your head against his shoulder weakly. He furrowed his brow and showed his toothy grin “Look at you. a complete mess in my office on my lap, what happened to me being needy?” Before you could get another rebuttal in, he moved his hands down your body to your hips and began to align your hole to his cock. As he steadily pushed into you he groaned into your neck. “Fuuuck y/n” he murmured as he began to thrust up and down, you moaned in response pulling against his hair. He swiftly spanked your ass with one hand and placed the other around the nape of your neck massaging it, enjoying the whimpers and mewls he’d pull from your lips.
Unexpectedly the two of you heard footsteps from outside his office, both of you froze in place unsure of what to do
“Detective Loki? Are you there? May I come in please?” a voice of one of your coworkers called from outside the door
You expected him to stop and pull you off, but he smirked coyly and inserted three fingers into your mouth and began to slowly thrust into you again. You arched your back in response, trying to contain your moans and noises of slurping from the drool beginning to fill your mouth and dribble down your chin.
“Uh.. yeah i'm in here, look i need some uh.. um.. space for the moment” he awkwardly yelled back out, even you could see in his eyes that his adrenaline was at a maximum right now. What on earth was he thinking?
“Oh.. i have some pretty important paperwork man i-” David interrupted him before he could finish, “Please just leave it at your desk and i'll..” he stared at the way you were grinding up and down onto his dick, before snapping back to reality, “...come pick it up when I'm ready.” David was struggling to contain himself. He gazed into your eyes as you swirled your tongue around his fingers pushing in and out of your mouth, simultaneously thrusting his cock slowly and deeply inside of you. The warmth and stickiness of your bodies pressed against each other made him melt back into his leather chair.
As soon as he heard the door from outside his office shut he briskly lifted you up and flipped you over onto your stomach against his desk, he leaned down pressing his chest against your back, the pressure of his weight crushing you was so intense yet felt so good. “God you're sexy y’know that?” he half whined half growled into your ear, his thrusts becoming more and more powerful. You cried out in pleasure, unable to move or escape from the position. He pulled your hair to gain access to your ear, gently nibbling on your lobe as he continued his deep and sharp thrusts. “You’re all fucking mine y/n” he groaned, “Oh god i feel like i'm gonna cum David. Please cum in me” You yelped out squirming beneath him, gripping onto the edge of his now mess of a desk. He didn't need to be told twice to do so, he buried his face into your neck before pressing a final thrust into you, loading thick streams of cum inside. You practically shrieked, it felt incredible.
Afterwards you both just sat there together on his chair, unsure of what to do with the mess you made. But content and loving in each other's arms with him stroking his fingers through your hair.
“Bet he couldn't make you feel that good ay?” he chuckled.
partially proof read, will come back to check on it when i wake up <3
#drabble#fandom#fanfic#fanfic ideas#fanfiction writer#jake gyllenhaal#x reader#david loki#detective loki#prisoners 2013#donnie darko#smut#my hcs#oneshot#writing prompt#dialogue prompt#valenfics
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just some thoughts from sherlock and co. Mailbag episode
honestly I did this to myself and at 3am no less.
In an mailbag episode on the sherlock and co. patreon, answering a question on their favorite musicals, John answered Les Misèrables. And being the romantic we know our loveable doctor to be, I was perusing the songs from the 2013 movie album and came across On My Own.
Sung by Èpoine about her unrequited love for Marius. And that is sad in its own regard, there's a reason it's one of the musicals most popular songs and Samantha Barks does a great job of that crushing emotional weight of being so wrapped in someone, so ultimately dazzled by them and wanting to be near them. But knowing they will not look at you the same, will not place the same value on the time and proximity you share. And that is not their fault and it is hard to love someone and desire to be close and yet have them be the source of your greatest pain and rejection, even though they may wish you no harm.
It's been hinted at and out right stated (by Sherlock) that John wants to be liked. And given what we've heard about John's last relationship (the one whereby he gained ownership of Archie after the split) and perhaps some insecurities there, insecurities in his own capabilities, comparing himself to others, its understandable to read John as something of an insecure man. Not in a toxic manner but John definitely has a lot of self doubts about himself and his place in the world and what he can offer to others. Despite him so naturally being able to attune to people and their needs and being quite bloody smart and intuitive. All round just a decent person.
And John, as much as anyone, marvels at Sherlock Holmes. This almost mythical figure. John admires Sherlock and maybe envies him on some level. I think not in Sherlock's deduction skills or specific knowledge skillsets but maybe in Sherlock's apparent surety in himself and where he is in life and what he wants from it. Sherlock is plainly himself, even if it means not "fitting in " John often tries to mould himself to what others might like, and hey, as a people pleaser, oh boy do I understand that. Almost becomes like muscle memory.
Sherlock in turn, I think admires John's social prowess. His ability to express the complexity of emotions. Just because someone doesn't emote the typical way doesn't mean they don't feel the emotions. And that can be incredibly frustrating when you want to communicate with others. Sherlock cares about people. He's interested in people. And he can't always express or connect with them in the way he wants. Like a language barrier he mentioned in another mailbag episode. That is why Sherlock and John work. They draw out in each other and supplement for the qualities they lack or yearn to have more of. They're a balancing act. A good one. And I'm not the first to point that out.
All this to say, imagine when that act is separated. The Fall. Grown so comfortable to have the other's support, always by each others side and then, suddenly the other person isn't there. And you have to remember how you functioned without them before. But you can't go back. You're not the same person you were. But if they aren't there to remind you, to encourage you, it's easy to fall back into old habits.
And so the song. On My Own. From John's perspective, watching the man the myth the dazzling legend that is Sherlock Holmes, getting swept up in the adventures, feeling totally out of place but thrilled be along for the ride, participating, maybe growing in confidence all because of coincidental flat share with possibly the most brilliant and bizzare man he's ever met. The world is changing for John Watson. And Sherlock is seemingly at the center of it all. He's found purpose. Friends. A home. Maybe more. But John is as fallible in his assumptions as any of us are. And Sherlock appears to have no interest in such relationships and John, not confident enough to make the first move. So he can daydream. Of what it would be like to be with Sherlock. And what it would be like be without Sherlock.
And then the Fall. And he truly is without Sherlock and his world has dulled and greyed and blurred. The city has lost its glimmer. The flat is quiet. The words are meaningless. And John sits with his what ifs.
Don't think of John hearing this song. Of the heartbreak of knowing that you can ever be with the one you love. And knowing that taste of what brilliant technicolours the world is when you were with them, full of stimulating twinkling lights. And thinking it could never be that way again. Don't imagine John, sat in the flat, in the achingly quiet flat, as a woman sings for her never was love, head in his hands, Archie resting his head on John's knee. Don't think of John cursing himself for not being sure enough to tell Sherlock how he felt, for not being good enough again to save his friend. Don't think of John Watson, once again, on his own.
#sherlock and co#sherlock and co.#sherlock & co#sherlock homes#john watson#I just have a lot of feelings about these two okay?#I dunno if I expressed myself well but here we are#jonklock
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Sorry for the stupid line callback he was just like. Specifically requested or something. Idk .
#Corvus#Corvus tdp#tdp#the dragon prince#aaravos#aaravos tdp#mystery of aaravos#my art#the nova blade#I know narratively Soren’s probably gonna have it bc aaravos was the catalyst for his family’s shit#even though it was their faults in the first place#but like yk what I mean#STILL THOUGH.#if ezran is faced with the need to take a life to keep peace#I think Corvus should offer to take that burden from him yk#maybe I made up how much they care about each other in my head#but in my head oh boy it’s interesting#btw the constellation behind them is the one in the intro with the cello
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*Enid's face is buried into her pillow*
Yoko: "I'm gonna leave you be"
Enid: "Leave me alone to die of misery"
Wednesday: "Dying of misery should be a shared experience in my opinion"
Enid: *gets up at neck-breaking speed* "WEDNESDAY?!"
#OH MY GOD#YES#FINALLY#THEY HAVE REUNITED#IT'S HAPPENING#AHHHH#WEDNESDAY CAME TO HER SENSES#thanks to thing#i guess#even though it was#thing's fault in the first place#but we can overlook that#maybe#wednesday#wednesday addams#enid#enid sinclair#yoko#wenclair#wenclair cult
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Wow.
#shes always fucking like this#shes akways mad at us#and talking like this to us#and shes like “i guess im the villain even though im just trying to help ”#NO THE FUCK YOU AREN'T#you FAIL to recognize when we're feeling uncomfortable scared or distressed.#i do understand I'M the problem sometimes. i fail to do things#but you make me feel like i want to fucking drown myself every time i do mess up#i never feel good enough#and you hsve said thst you've never wanted kids in the first place TO MY FACE#I'm sorry you're going through things#i understand and see that you are struggling as well#and i know it's hard to help others when you yourself need help#but you not recognizing what the limit is and what your words and actions say#has made me feel like i dont deserve to live#and i dont deserve love#i feel broken#and i feel inhuman#and its your fault#im acting more adult than you and that speaks volumes
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the two cats i'm most obsessed with in my clangen save rn, Burnetpelt and Bouncemurk. They have a terrible relationship with one another but hey at least I love them both
#for context; Bouncemurk was appointed deputy without mentoring anyone#then given one of burnetpelts kits as a make up apprentice#who dies on her first patrol in the jaws of a wild dog. so.#yeah burnet blames bounce for that. fully. as the cat appointed deputy she DEFINITELY shouldve fucking known. not to send a baby into battl#even though its more complicated than that they were on a patrol and it showed up. what was she gonna do as the deputy? NOT lead it away?#try to fight it off?#a damned either way situation but the point is. burnet is the new deputy because hes the only man whos mentored anyone who made it#and bounce was demoted. took the immediate slaughter of her apprentice as a sign from starclan she was the VERY WRONG CHOICE#thus the. quote. she wasnt meant to be anything at all. not a deputy. not a mentor. not respected. no ones friend.#an internal realization. hot tears that she curses herself for letting fall. she doesnt DESERVE to cry. its HER fault.#HJJGGGGHGH I love her sm. shes super young shes like 2 years old tops she never shouldve been placed in this situation#this whole clan is fucked actually. Bitterclan is very interesting I like them enough to actually use them perhaps#warriors#warrior cats#clangen#warrior cats oc#digital art#lineless#colored sketch#btw burnets kits are secretly 'not' his kits. the mom was dying giving birth and he realized this (hes like. a midwife homebuilder type)#and spontaneously declared they were his#and he had been so scared and so nervous but seeing them now; oh theyre so beautiful. he cant wait to be a father...#and their eyes meet and hers look worried. like are you sure? and his are full of so much love and reassurance#and from then on those kits are his. his kits. as far as everyone else alive is concerned theyre biologically his kits. including them#NO ONE knows. and they wont. theyre his. what good would it do?
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Can't even mention that a store near me is clearly using abusing the TFW program because they refuse to pay little more than minimum wage in a high cost of living area (also you won't get benefits and you'll only be part-time) because the fascists and right-wingers will jump in to say it's about immigration and white replacement.
No, it's because rich white people want to hoard even more money and found an intentional loophole to both make more money (via paying employees less) and also have more power over employees, employees who may or may not know Canadian employment laws (or safety laws) and even if they do, don't have the ability or support to try to hold the company accountable.
You can absolutely criticize the federal government for keeping the loophole open but it predates Trudeau by decades and it was Harper who both expanded the program and added a way for companies to fast-track TFWs. It was also under Harper that companies started firing Canadians (or not hiring them) and then requesting permission to mass-hire TFWs instead.
But the way the right wing talks, you would think Trudeau started this whole thing and the poor multi-million and multi-billion dollar companies are being taken advantage of. Also that housing prices, lack of new developments, and zoning issues started with Trudeau and are the fault of mass-immigration he has a boner for instead of being an issue for decades and experts warning this would happen if governments didn't act ASAP.
Instead the neolibs and cons kept cutting back and kicking that can down the road, a can that started being kicked by Mulroney and the Conservative Party.
#as a 90s kid i grew up with warnings about healthcare and housing and how we needed mass immigration or a massive baby boom#because of the utter lack of federal support and an aging workforce#the systems were already being strained to their limits and there literally weren't enough millennials to replace retiring workers#*or* bring in enough taxes to fund said systems when the system needed it the most#not even increase funding just keeping the same funding that was already not enough#also the right conveniently ignores (or doesn't know about) the extremely predatory recruitment industry#that targets people overseas while lying and charging large amounts of money to bring tfws to canada#you could even blame chretien for expanding it to include 'low-skilled' workers which is what companies are abusing it for#hell even trudeau sr for creating it in the first place even though it was originally made for high-skilled or niche jobs#but no the blame is always trudeau jr with a ton of racism and brownnosing capitalists#because all these problems sprang up suddenly under him#and in no way did harper start/expand/not end/be complicit in any of this /s#though i guess for some of the fascists it seems that way 'cause they weren't personally affected by it until now#and companies have stopped trying to pretend they aren't grabbing as much money as possible because fuck anyone else#even though it's been like that for decades and capitalism itself encourages companies to skim money off the top#while not having the checks and balances to limit just how much#for that you need governments to regulate things and that doesn't work when you have leaders who are anti-regulation#and who believe in trickle down economics#just... the whole thing is not happening in a bubble and involves multiple people and both the neolibs and cons#because it's been building for decades#but you can't bloody say that because the moment you mention housing/jobs/healthcare and/or tfws#you get inundated by fascists who think you're one of them and hit you with some of the most unhinged shit#or who don't even care about you and just want someone to rant at about how it's the evil left's fault for everything#hell you can't even say you don't like trudeau because same thing: fascists think you're one of them or someone to bring into the cult
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