#there are FAR too many examples for me to list off
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i just know a lot of SCP characters would love kairiki bear.
this post is about nobody the person of interest and angel kairiki bear i just KNOW that old man would love that song
this post is also about the entirety of the SCP foundation and lemming-ming i just know EVERYONE would love that song
also logica kairiki bear. literally everyone's theme song
#there are FAR too many examples for me to list off#umm#i think luma has mad serpent's hand vibes#I FORGOT TO MENTION failure girl is also a very nobody song same goes for alkali underachiever and electrostatic human kinda#vita is kinda chaos insurgent core i think#telesto teles is kinda mmm i dunno exactly but both foundation and nobody would like that one#sorry to kairiki post bur. tee hee#oh yeah kokoro nonsense. i cant tell exactly which charc relates to it but one of them definitely will#should i just make a list of vocaloid songs which i think are relevant to my blorbo???
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Warning: Long Post No one reads long texts anymore, but despite everything I've been through with my country, my family, and recently my son, I need to get this off my chest. It's completely unbelievable to me that so many people still don't understand the background of the genocide in Palestine. What kind of journalists or influencers do we have today? Are they too afraid to report and remind their audiences about the real story behind what's happening now? No, it's not just one year of suffering! It's outrageous how the media consistently ignores what Palestinians have been enduring for decades. Have they, or you, even bothered to look at the statistics of how many Palestinians have been killed by Israel since 1948? How many children have been killed? Who holds the responsibility for what's happening now? I often wonder: what if the situation Palestinians face was applied somewhere else? For example, what if, after World War II, the West had decided that all Jews should have a state in the USA—let’s say Chicago—how would the people of Chicago have reacted? Imagine the people there being driven off the land their families had worked for generations, stripped of their rights, and harassed or persecuted if they resisted. Do international laws simply not apply when ### is involved? Do you know that people in Gaza are killed simply for fun? Yes, for fun! Israeli soldiers have been known to shoot women, children, and even animals on the spot, then walk away. Did you feel the wind when those shots were fired? Or was it too far away for you? Do you understand what death means? Good. Do you know why there are so many Palestinians living in different countries, or maybe even right next door to you, even though they smell like hummus, garlic, za'atar, and other traditional foods? Do you know why your neighbors are Palestinian and not Israeli? It's because we've been forced to flee since 1948. Our cities were erased then, and more are still being erased—through violence, through apartheid laws, through genocide, through different methods. Ilan Pappe, an Israeli historian, wrote a book about hundreds of Palestinian cities that were erased to create the Israel you know today. This isn't a war that started a few days ago or even a year ago—this has been going on since at least 1948. More than 45,000 have been killed in Gaza just in the past year alone. 17 000 of them are children, and 13 000 are women. Do you even know what that means? How it feels to lose your children or part of your family? Are you going to tell us how it feels? Do you have no empathy? Is your heart so closed that you can't see the pain around you? Are you really so blind to the suffering of others? How can you ignore these realities? Do you know that the Israeli military has cut off all electricity and completely halted the import of food, water, fuel, and other necessities? There are no hospitals and no medicines left, and 85% of people in Gaza are living in makeshift tents. Yes, tents—but not like the ones you see in movies. These are handmade from plastic scraps. Do you know that my family is suffering from all of this, and I will lose them in this cold weather if you don't act now? Please help us and donate now!
Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.
Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link
Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link
Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link
Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link
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#palestine#humanity#charity#gaza#donate#humanitarian aid#help gaza#free gaza#gaza genocide#pray for gaza
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How do you manage to motivate yourself when you're feeling tired or depressed?
Usually I try to give myself time to rest until those feelings lessen, since they're generally symptomatic of having pushed too hard, but on occasions where tiredness seems to be getting a little too cozy with depression, there's a few things I do.
I've observed in myself a habit of sort of… waiting in a holding pattern for something to push me into action. "Something" isn't defined clearly, but it becomes a real problem on depressed or low-executive-function days. This might just BE what low executive function feels like, tbh; like there's some invisible trigger and I can't Do The Thing until something trips it. When I notice I'm stuck in a holding pattern, I have a few tricks to snap myself out of it:
Flip a coin. Heads I get up and Do The Thing, tails I don't. The simple act of challenging myself is enough to motivate me sometimes, regardless of the outcome, but sometimes this makes me realize that I am legitimately tired, so I stay put and recharge a little until I want to flip for it again.
Set a five- or ten-minute timer and do whatever I need to do until the timer runs out. An artificial deadline can bypass the holding pattern. Sometimes this gives me momentum, and when the timer runs out I keep going. Sometimes this does NOT build momentum, and I crash after the timer runs out - but I crash with five more minutes of progress done. Any progress is better than no progress.
Assume Direct Control. This one only works sometimes, but sometimes it's as simple as breaking down a list of individual units of tangible progress - Get Off Of Bed, Put On Pants, Plug In Tablet, Etc Etc - and just grab the manual controls in my brain and make myself do each thing in turn. Sometimes I'll assume direct control to make myself take a Stupid Mental Health Walk, which has thus far worked every time to improve my mood and energy even though when I am in a Low Mood the last thing I want to do is subject myself to the mortifying ordeal of wearing pants and dealing with people.
I also find that sometimes it's helpful to pull the thread of what you're waiting for. Sometimes I'll realize I've locked myself into a weird paralysis because I've accidentally made something a prerequisite for other tasks. For example, I might realize I'm feeling weirdly frozen and uncomfortable because I haven't taken out the trash, and I've told myself I can't do X Y and Z until the trash is taken out, but I don't want to take out the trash, so I've locked X Y and Z behind Unpleasant Task in a subconscious attempt to motivate myself to Do The Task but instead I've just dramatically reduced the number of things I feel I can do. Often just noticing this pattern is enough to break out of it.
I also find that sometimes the invisible trigger I'm waiting for is just waiting to want to do something. That is unfortunately a trap. There are many things you can enjoy or benefit from without wanting to do them beforehand, because the thought of it is unpleasant or scary or anxiety-inducing or otherwise loaded down with what-ifs and caveats. I will never WANT to have a doctor's appointment, but I feel very good AFTER arranging and going to one. I very rarely WANT to exercise, but after the fact I feel very rewarded and more confident in my abilities. I've only WANTED to go on like a third of the walks I've taken this year, but every single one of them has been pleasant and beneficial to my mental health. Sometimes you just gotta say "I don't WANT to do it, but I'll be glad I did it" and manually pilot yourself into Doing It.
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big big marvey fic rec list
marvey is currently my most bookmarked ship, so trust me when i say i've been around the bend for marvey content. i have dug through a lot of it the past few months, so trust that these fics have been highly rated!
fics are loosely grouped, with the summary and my thoughts under the cut :3 no spoilers ofc bc i love you
MY PERSONAL FAVOURITES
A Specter-Ross Affair by @frivoloussuits (15k+, au)
“You ordered an ‘extra-hot, extra-wet cappuccino, single-origin, properly layered, to-go and ready five minutes ago to make up for your service speed or lack thereof.’” In which Mike is a barista, Rachel is a lawyer, and Harvey is paid excessive amounts of money to plan their joyous Christmas wedding.
"Love is just a particularly socially accepted form of fraud. It's a series of increasingly complex and fragile deceptions between two or more people, and, more alarmingly, between each participant and their own deluded subconscious."
i literally cannot recommend this fic enough. this might be my favourite read of the entire year, dead serious. this sounds fluffy but trust me, the pining and the angst go well like salt on a chocolate chip cookie: extremely decadent. everything about this fic goes insane and this should be your gateway drug into marvey, im so serious about this. READ IT. (weddingplanner!harvey)
of all the gin joints by @frivoloussuits (10k+, au)
Hanging around a neighborhood bar one night, Harvey befriends a guy named Mike after realizing they can both quote The Princess Bride on demand. In the law offices of Rand, Kaldor, Zane and Pearson, senior partner Harvey Specter takes on an unusual case, representing his managing partner's daughter as she divorces a Michael James Ross. Harvey sees no connection until it's far too late.
"They’re playing a virtuosic duet with inhuman ease, as if the intoxication has broken their boundaries and blurred them into a single entity."
this. obsessed with fics that really use the law in their plots, and this is a prime example. a lot of chemistry in this one that is described in a way that makes you jealous of the bond they share and there are still lines in this fic that i think about almost everyday but honestly, such a top-tier read. PLEASE PLEASE IF YOU LIKE SUFFERING ANF REALLY REALLY GOOD CHEMISTRY PLEASE
5U175 by Closer (26k, canon-adjacent)
Harvey sometimes moonlights as a Star Trek BNF. Mike might have an attitude problem on the internet. TiberiusGhost is strangely compelling, for a recluse who never goes to meetups, and Harvey's finding this kid Photohead vaguely familiar…
i know that the terminology in this one is hella old-school but trust me. as someone who doesnt read a lot of fandom fics, this fic has changed it all for me (also bc the author replied to my comment hehehe) stick with this fic because the way fandom weaves with the character development is absolutely delicious, i remember saying this in my og comment but this fic was written with love for fandom and you should definitely read it too!!! you'd absolutely love it! (also ben stans rise up ^^)
fics to sink your teeth into (20k+)
needs must by @melthemagpie (98k+, au)
When Grammy needs an upgrade in care, Mike knows that the usual one-off gig as a paid submissive won't be enough. He takes a job he's been refusing for a while - a long-term, full-time contract. He expects his client to be a sadistic asshole. He expects not to like it. He's wrong on both counts.
this is a fandom classic, every fic rec has this on the list (cw for dom/sub and prostitution, so if you're uncomfy please dont read) but i swear there are so many romantic moments in this one that make me swoon and the smut is very good, i usually tap out in long fics really quickly but this hooked me the whole way through twice. thats my ringing endorsement, READ THIS
Lobster and Other Catastrophes by @andthetardis (21k, canon-compliant)
After months of silence, Mike starts texting Harvey again out of the blue. Funny thing to do on his honeymoon, really.
BRO PLEASE. this was so good. angsty and pining-y enough even though it's mostly a text fic. text fics to me are more like comedic, but this one had substance and heart (and funny and enjoyable btw). pulls you in and really makes you want to stick it out and get to the beautiful ending <333 (harvey being soft is probably a category on its own :3)
The Game by @frivoloussuits (27k, hunger games au)
Harvey Specter and Donna Paulsen are efficient and elegant killers. They have trained since childhood, mentored personally by Jessica Pearson and marked for years as District 1's Tributes for the Hunger Games. Mike Ross is an orphan from District 12, a drug dealer, and an underage gambler. After years of scrutinizing the Hunger Games on TV to make savvy bets, he finds himself on the wrong side of the camera, now playing the odds just to survive. Harvey and Mike cannot, should not trust each other. Still, they strike a backroom deal.
"Because he’s clever and quick-thinking and he’s learned her main lesson well– don’t love anyone you wouldn’t be willing to see dead. Ideally, don’t love anyone at all."
I READ THIS WHEN I WAS REVISITING HUNGER GAMES AND OHHHHH THIS HAS THE ANGST. absolutely riveting. ths is the third fic im reccing from them bc i love frivoloussuits. i would die for them HHFSHFHKSDGDHFG i love the angst and the life-threatening situations that the hunger games provide and harvey as a career is correct. its just correct. everything here grips my soul
Disaster Stories by agatestones (22k, canon-compliant)
"Hold on," Mike asked, "you made Donna come into work in the middle of a blizzard?" "I don't make Donna do anything. Haven't you learned by now?" Harvey gave Mike a mean little smile, but under that was relief for anyone to see. "You, I can make come into the office in a blizzard."
reads like a novella to me, and it's really good!!! very episodic and you really feel like these are things that have happened in universe. its very slice of lifey and i reread it a lot as a comfort read, its like a big hug to me
Pizza and a Movie by Closer (30k+, au)
In an alternate universe, Harvey's still a lawyer but Mike's not a pot runner -- he's a deliveryman for Rollo's Pizza and Ribs, which happens to be Harvey's favorite pizza place. Once Harvey finds out his pizza guy is a genius, Mike's life takes a few turns he would not have expected...
i swear this is the most rom-commy fic marvey has to offer. i like aus that slap me in the face more with the alternate universe, but this is such a rom-com plot. fandom classic as well and it really reads like a hugh grant 90s movie and if thats not enough to pull you in idk what will tbh
Imprimatur by Closer (22k, au)
Mike was raised to believe Imprint was a life-changing event for those few lucky enough to experience it. Harvey was raised to believe it was a form of mental illness. When it actually happened, neither of them noticed.
this goes absolutely crazy. one of those fics where you read it and you almost want to throw your phone at the wall because the characters could make it so easy if they werent so stupid (but in a good way of course) but the way it was written, you feel the depth of the soulmate bond and why its so important (which a lot of soulmate aus forget to do loll) but goes down like an expensive and delicious dinner :)
afternoon reads (10k+)
Sony SRF-39FP by @frivoloussuits (11k+, canon-adjacent)
Anita Gibbs won’t settle for Mike, not when there are name partners within her reach. She offers only one deal– two years, no other charges against anyone else in the firm, as long as Harvey Specter turns himself in. And even as Donna and Jessica and Louis and Mike beg him not to, he jumps on the grenade. “Time to get busy living or get busy dying,” he remarks, and Mike gives a small chuckle. Then Harvey smirks, straightens his suit jacket, and strides into FCI Danbury.
“I can’t believe they’re trying to lock you in a box and forget about you,” Mike sighs as he leaves.
“Well, as long as you don’t forget me, I figure I’ll survive.”
“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but forgetting’s never been my strong suit.
cw for depersonalization and desc of solitary confinement, very very heavy but the way mike is there throughout everything makes my heart twinge. i really dont know how to describe this fic at all but its really good. it makes me cry a lot. also made me start listening to jazz which- uh
Here at the end of all things by @tattooedsiren (10k, au)
When he arrives at the Pearson Hardman building the lights are dimmed and the floor is deserted. His feet carry him to Harvey's office even though he expects it to be empty. Because Harvey probably fled the city via helicopter or teleporter or sheer force of will. But when he approaches the office he can see that Harvey is there. He has moved the couch so that it now faces the floor to ceiling windows and Mike silently sits beside Harvey, joins him in looking down at the chaos engulfing the city below. [Apocalypse AU]
I LOVE APOCALYPSE FICS UP UP UP badass!harvey makes me bark, but im a really big fan of people who find happiness in the worst circumstances and this fic does it so so so well. reminds me a lot of tlou episode like 2? the one with the strawberries. please this is what i revisit when i miss marvey and i dont have a lot of time because the world and the characters are jsut so delicious!!!
quick reads (1k+)
This Love is Silent by kim47 (8k, canon-compliant)
She should have known. She had known, that something was off, at least. She knew he was hiding something. She just never imagined it could be this. Despite Harvey's warnings, Mike tells Rachel the truth about everything. She's shocked, naturally, and more than a little angry, but she agrees to keep his secret, and even to date him. So when they break up, Harvey goes into damage-control mode.
RACHEL!! HELLO RACHEL!! im always up for smart and discerning rachel (this shows up in of all the gin joints too btw!!!) this runs realistic to me because it shows that rachelxmike arent some hopelessly wrong for each other couple, they have good and bad times. this feels more real to me than other fics bc its not like the world conspires for marvey to be apart, its just life. i know this makes it sound so sad, and it is, but trust me: this is really really really good i love this so much
an archive of harvey specter's expressions by @frivoloussuits (2k, canon-compliant)
Five old expressions that Mike rediscovers in new contexts once he and Harvey are (finally) together, and one that he sees for the first time. Alternatively titled “An Ode to Gabriel Macht’s Face.”
this was written for me. this is literally me. writing fic because gabriel macht is too pretty, like this fic is literally for me. a lot of peering at him to get this fic as masterfully written as it is, and i thank you author everyday for it. to me, this reads like it's been written with love and care and true adoration (Truly, like Mike)
Coffee-Cart Client Privilege by @frivoloussuits (7k, au)
Mike runs a coffee cart. The coffee cart.
"Why not? They're too big and dense to be a snack." So are you, Mike thinks, and yet.
IM SORRY I KEEP RECCING FRIVOLOUS SUITS THEYRE MY FAVOURITE WRITER IN THIS FANDOM HFBKABFDKHFBHKDSA this has the hand-wavy logic the show has itself but mike's internal monologue in this one is one of the best ive ever read and the way mike's integrated in the offices is just so well-done ahhhh
Objection by yeah its frivoloussuits again i feel bad tagging them like 7 times (2k, canon-adjacent)
When Mike announces he’s leaving, Harvey plans to hide the jagged pieces of his broken heart deep inside, where no one will ever find them. His heart would like to object.
BIGG fan of physical hurt/comfort!!!! also big fan of people absolutely freaking out in the hospital in fics, it makes me bounce of the wall!! very short but the angst and love really hits you quick and leaves you on the floor gasping for air. very good (also cant prove this but im very sure this is a scrubs reference.t hanks)
Excerpts From The Gospel of Harvey Specter, edited by Michael "Forever Awesome" Ross, 2011, 1st Ed, by @rcmclachlan (7k, canon compliant)
Mike can totally read people. Well, most people. Some people. Or maybe just Harvey, who's pretty much an open book.
this one's really funny! it doesent follow direct prose and instead plays a lot with the setting its in (where mike's a documenter of harvey) and its just so funny and adorable. has a lot of heart too, it isn't just crack or anything but you really feel everything mike does as he writes all this, read this!!1
One More Sleepless Night by @sal_si_puedes (9k, au)
Soul Bonds are one-sided – there’s usually mutual affection, but only one party feels the crippling need to be together as often as possible. If separated at length from their love, that party becomes crushed by longing, panic, and sheer hopelessness, and so it is illegal to forcibly keep Soulmates apart. Some days, Harvey Specter hates the Bond that skews his judgement and weakens his resolve, and he fears what would happen if anyone in his world ever discovers he is so compromised. He certainly never planned to disclose the Bond for the first time in the middle of Anita Gibbs’ office, in a last-ditch attempt to invalidate the deal sending Mike to prison.
HSDGFHSDKGHRLKGHK THIS FIC. i love fics that use more than just prose to tell their stories (see above fic) and this does my favourite thing that soulmate aus do, which is where they integrate in-universe explanations for the phenomenon. the amount of work and dedication put into this fic makes it absolutely sing and was absolutely lovely!!
also pspspsps
golden like the daffodils by @mini-mart (2k, canon-compliant)
Poetry holds meaning, for anyone who reads it. It obscures and dances around the literal and metaphorical, because it’s imbued with so much of something that it overflows out of any definition. It can make someone mad, or lovesick, or aroused, and the reactions would be absolutely warranted. Mike is poetry, to Harvey. - Harvey Specter could be a good politician, as he believes in pragmatism over poetry. He won't let his progress fall apart, won't let someone knock it down. And then someone unceremoniously cracks open a suitcase at his feet. Or: Harvey, pretty boys and poetry.
yeah yeah i wrote this yeah yeah self promo smth smth
there's a lot more that isn't here but i'll probably write a new one when i go for a deep dive through the ship tags again :3
^^ ao3 etiqutte applies! if you like the fic, kudos and comment and bookmark!! show your love! happy reading marveys! my gift to u :3
#marvey#suits tv#suits#mike ross#harvey specter#marvey fic recs#marvey fic#ao3#fic rec list#fic recs#tbr#fanfiction#103#GUYS PLEASE READ THIS#mikexharvey#read this
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Maybe this is a silly question to ask about a podcast that 1) isn't fiction and 2) has hundreds of episodes, BUT. Do you have a favorite Knowledge Fight episode? Or maybe, idk, a favorite 'era' or type of episodes? A friend sent me a playlist of all the ones covering the Sandy Hook lawsuits - man those formulaic objections eps are fun! - and I've just finished listening to the last one on the list. So I guess I'm looking for recs on what to listen to next?
The whole formulaic objections series is good, i like the ones where they discuss Alex as a guest on Joe Rogan's Podcast, episode 25 about Dennis Montgomery is a good early example of Dan's research habits (episode 26 has the 4 ways to learn which is, like, foundational knowledge fight lore), Ep 392 about January 24th 2020 gets into a foundational thing for the covid info that will follow ("it's over for humanity, there will only be lone survivors" - they were VERY VERY worried about what they later decided was overblown) the responses to the court cases (602, 714, 715) that aren't formulaic objections are ALSO good, the episode about Bill Ayers (168) on infowars is really good, the episode about chompsky on Infowars is good (should pop up if you search chompsky in their episode list, 404 "Mr. Jones goes to CPAC" is good, and I like all of the multi-episode series about the documentaries. I like the episode when Jordan comes back to the US after the unite the right rally too - one thing I like in most podcasts I listen to is the leadup to and aftermath of big events, so I end up listening to November 2019 - September 2020 pretty intently across podcasts and knowledge fight is no different, they did good coverage of the way people were covering the Many Events of 2020.
I'm on my third full listen through and my podcast app shows that I've spent 4001.2 hours listening so far (I listen to everything at 2-2.5x speed) and I think they really start getting very very good after they kick off the formulaic objections. The early stuff is also good but they're also both excitable and more willing to jump to conclusions (I'm on about episode sixty right now and Dan is willing to make guesses about stuff in his time travel episodes and assert things that I don't think he would these days.)
I really like most of the "chatting with" episodes where they're talking to another person who researches in a similar space and I usually really appreciate Jordan's interviews but sometimes he's just too left for a more center guest and it becomes too awkward for me to listen to (I have to skip the Brian Stelter episode - I understand why Jordan interviews the way that he does and TBH I approve, I just can't listen to it).
If you're looking for another playlist to get started I'd say try episodes 130A-130E, which is the breakdown of the endgame documentary.
If you decide to start listening and you are coming across wacky wednesday episodes and finding yourself bored, just skip them and you won't be missing out.
(it may be a silly question to ask most people but it's not a silly question to ask me because I *DO* have my favorites out of nearly a thousand episodes of a nonfiction podcast about alex jones).
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Lilia's premonitions theory (contains spoilers)
Well, my brain has been in overdrive and I love puzzles so... "buckle up!"
If it's too long for you - you can jump straight into the last section titled "How does it all fit"... I really think there could be something there.
OTHER THEORIES
There have been many theories about Lilia's powers and her moments of visions. Some think it's just some loose wiring on most part, some think it's past traumatic events catching up with her, some think they are predictions of the future, some even went as far as suggesting that Lilia (loosely) predicts the last words of the next person who's going to die (based on the fact she said "Get off me!" in ep.2 and we hear Sharon shout "Don't touch me!" in ep.3). But we keep seeing more and more of Lilia's blips in ep.4, they make less sense to any of the above theories, so personally I am not sold on any of them.
There is also a possibility that her premonitions could just be linked to the events that follow - but the words aren't accurate because Lilia can't quite see the "full picture". So her screaming in her shop could be linked to Teen's reaction when Salem Seven attacked in that same episode. Or when she says "Alice, don't", we see Agatha pleading "Don't" with Rio.
BUT then I saw people discussing that maybe these are actually "misplaced" moments in time - from the future AND the past. And that they will make sense if they were said in the correct moment, but somehow got lost and sent to a different time. For example - when Lilia talks about the vampire by the campfire "You know, we really kind of hated each other in the beginning, but now..." then zones out. We could assume she's still talking about the vampire, but this pause could actually be easily filled with "I love you guys!" from the "botox" scene in ep.3, because she was actually touched by their campfire stories. Or when she shouts "Get off me" in ep.2, it could be taken right out of the ep.4 scene where she's burning on the floor, shouting "Get it off me!".
WHAT WE KNOW
All those theories got me mighty intrigued, so of course I made a list of all of Lilia's apparent 'blips' and tried to make sense of it! I believe there are two types of Lilia's visions - one where she has "wrong messages" and one where she exclaims names of tarot cards.
The tarot cards she mentioned so far:
Three of Pentacles - right after she wrote the coven names down
High Priestess - when she meets Jen at Agatha's house
Three of Swords - as Jen is trying to heal Teen
The "blips" are:
shouting and flailing her hands - when Agatha and Teen ask her to join the coven in ep.2
writing the coven names (same scene as above) - this is the only premonition where we see burst of power - the electricity flicker around her, the water boils and it all seems really intense.
shouting "Get off me!" and looking like she was pushing someone away - just before the witches begin summoning the Road
"I love you guys" - when Jen questions Sharon about her poison symptoms in ep.3
"Try to save Agatha" - when she and Agatha are searching for potion ingredients
"Which is it, am I wispy or am i kooky?" - when talking to Alice about her mum during the trial in ep.4
"Alice! Alice don't" - shortly after the one above
Zones out - during the campfire scene when she talks about the vampire scar
We also know that her Air trial will be all about tarot (confirmed by Patti herself) and the promos show Lilia in some sort of princess dress and tiara, Agatha as the green Wicked Witch of the West and Jen looking like the Evil Queen from Snow White but in the old hag form. This makes me think in her trial she will have to confront all those stereotypes about witches that she always said she hated so much. She will likely have to do a tarot reading too. There is also a room with ceiling full of swords that could fall down on them. And finally, in that same room there is a brief shot with her and Salem Seven, flowing mid-air.
One promo also shows one of Salem Seven (Vertigo) opening her mouth to release a swarm of cicadas (her spirit animal).
We know the witches slowly regain their powers once they passed their trial.
There is also this thing about Alice (I will need to make a separate post to explain this) - where my prediction is that in ep.5 she will try to protect the coven by attacking Agatha while she's in her "possessed" form. Unfortunately, Agatha will (willingly or not) completely syphon her powers and Alice will die.
HOW DOES IT ALL FIT?
Well. I think we will potentially get some answers during or after Lilia's trial, once she starts regaining her powers. I think Lilia will try to send a message to the witches in the past, but she will still be struggling with getting the times right.
I could almost see a scene where she sits at her crystal ball or does a tarot reading and talks, not realising that EVERYTHING she says is "sent out" without any filter.
Something like...
.........
Lilia is in a room with other witches, it is a high pressure situation because the Salem Seven are chasing them. Her task is to send the names of the witches to her past self so that Agatha can form her coven - they realised that without the list, they would've never gotten there. Maybe their existence or memory depends on it.
So Lilia starts a tarot reading and begins "tuning in" to her memories, saying the names of the revealed cards out loud - "High Priestess" (she says it in a surprise voice as her vision suddenly flickers to the moment of meeting Jen), "Three of Swords" etc. Maybe one of other witches in the room starts antagonising her kookiness, so that she would just hurry up, because this is not working and Salem Seven are close. So Lilia responds in annoyance "Which is it, am I wispy or am I kooky?!" But then she realises she is standing in front of Alice from the fire trial (in spirit anyway, Lilia is still physically in the scary room). She exclaims in relief "Alice!" and realises this is also her chance to warn Alice so that she doesn't die. She begins saying "Alice, don't try to save Agatha!", but mid way through, her spirit gets transported to the first trial, searching for potion ingredients. So Alice only hears "Alice don't..." and Agatha hears "...try to save Agatha". At some point Lilia is transported to sitting in front of the campfire, reminiscing their stories. This is a fond memory so she starts saying "You know, we really kind of hated each other in the beginning, but now.." and before she can finish, she gets transported back to the "Huge tiny lies" house "...I love you guys".
Maybe at some point Salem Seven break their way into the tarot room and one of them attacks Lilia. She screams "Get off me!" and pushes them away (while her spirit is transported to the moment before they opened the Road). Vertigo releases her cicadas, flying around Lilia's head. She flails her hands and screams, while her spirit is inside her shop where Agatha and Teen just approach her. She realises she's close, focuses all her energy and channels her spirit to write the list of names herself. It takes enormous effort to stay focused on that one moment, hence the energy around her is bursting. She either doesn't have enough time to finish writing Rio's name or feels cheeky and draws a black heart instead. She finishes by revealing and naming the last tarot card: "Three of Pentacles". She completes the task, the End!
....
So..... What does everyone think?!!!!!!
#agatha all along#agatha harkness#kathryn hahn#rio vidal#agatha all along spoilers#jennifer kale#lilia calderu#alice wu gulliver#agatha all along theory
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The Assistant (officeAU!Geto x Fem!Reader x officeAU!Gojo)
based on this request, tumblr hates me.
Plot: Senior Partner at the prestigious Gojo Group's legal department, Geto Suguru never expected to fall for his newly-hired personal assistant. But when his lifelong best friend and boss takes an interest in you, Suguru fins his own feelings rapidly escalating into an uncontrollable obsession.
Tags: Office!AU, Geto POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Secretary!Reader, Lawyer!Geto, CEO!Gojo, Office Sex, Oral Sex (m.receiving), Doggy Style, Degradation, Praise, Pining, Jealousy, Obsession, Sexual Coercion, Abuse of Authority, don't get your hopes up; this isn't a threesome, MDNI obviously.
A/N: Number one bestie, you still owe me Gojo smut. But here, 14k words to quench your thirst for Suguwu.
Masterlist | AO3 | Requests
“How about this one? She’s pretty hot, don’t you think, Suguru?” Satoru waves yet another paper in Suguru’s face, his excitement wearing off the moment he catches his best friend pinching his nose bridge between his fingers.
“Satoru, we are picking associate candidates, not swimming-suit contest winners.” Suguru chides in a calm tone, crossing out the woman’s name from his list with a red line that’s identical to the line above and the ones that rank above it too.
This is the 78th candidate whose CV is rejected by the two men, their task of finding Suguru the perfect assistant turning rather daunting after five emptied cups of instant coffee.
Suguru insisted he could’ve done it alone—similar to how he’d insisted he could’ve kept handling his own affairs by himself and argued against a congratulatory party in honor of his promotion. But certain wishes outweigh others, and in the legal department of Gojo Enterprises, Satoru’s word is as good as the law—one of the many perks that come with being the president’s only son.
“What’s wrong with swimming suit contests?” The white-haired man sulks, long limbs hanging gracelessly from over his chair’s backrest. He zooms in on the woman’s picture one final time before crumpling the paper into a ball that’s flung straight into the garbage bin by the door. "Hey, that was a three-pointer!"
Sigh.
Even though the two of them have been friends since Suguru can remember himself, sometimes it feels as if only one of them outgrew their fourth-grade selves. It’s nothing new for Satoru to confuse play time with work time, yet as the man who will come to inherit the entire Gojo empire, he should at least focus on how to better the company, not tear it apart.
“Nothing wrong with swimming suits or gravure models, but we should choose someone based on their skills. Remember what your father always says: a business is only as successful as—”
“‘Its team is,’ yeahyeahyeah , spare me the preach. My ears are tired of that old man’s nagging.” Satoru spins around in his chair, the rollers squeaking under his weight. “Just because someone’s pretty doesn’t mean they can’t be competent. Take me for example.” His thumb and forefinger shape an angle below his chin.
A quiet chuckle evades Suguru as he sorts the files before him and slides the next batch across Satoru’s side of the table. “Fine, if we don’t find someone who checks both criteria, then you can be my assistant.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Satoru rips another instant coffee packet open. “My hands are full already.” Throwing his head back, he empties the powder into his mouth and washes it around until the sugary substance dissolves.
“I can see that,” Suguru murmurs, masking his distaste by returning to work.
The stacks of paper soon decline, with Satoru needing a cursory look to dismiss the candidates and Suguru meticulously processing their accomplishments down to their high school extracurricular activities. Work at the firm is hard enough as is. He’s seen far too many young, ambitious interns crack under pressure and pop pills into their mouths like candy just so they can keep up.
Narrowing down his options, Suguru gets a decent idea of what he’s looking for: adaptability, flexibility, and drive. Those traits are common to all three finalists, with two of them having touched a variety of fields and the other having a background in volunteer work.
He’s all but decided on candidate number 99 when a paper plane crashes into the side of his head.
“Oops!” Satoru’s shoulders scrunch up coyly, though both he and his partner know it was very much intentional.
Suguru catches the plane, appreciating the craftsmanship behind the carefully folded wings, before he sets it on the table.
“Satoru.” His voice gains a slight edge after he spots candidate 42’s face decorating the underside of the aircraft, a comically large mustache drawn on top. “Was anyone else to your liking, or did the rest become fodder for your fleet?”
He watches his friend fish a paper crane out of his jacket, clearly pleased with himself, and he has every right to be, considering the paper is seamlessly trimmed without any scissors. Cute. Suguru smiles, withholding his praise lest it become another point of distraction.
Rolling his chair away, Satoru jumps up and slams the desk with enough force to break it. “Number 98!” He declares.
“98?” Suguru asks, and in seconds, Satoru is found hovering above his shoulder, one hand drumming against the leather chair and the other covering the (presumed) woman’s picture.
“Good grades, prestigious papers, and all that education shit you’re so fond of.” His forefinger trails between the lines. “University of Tokyo, Department of—blah blah , Essex something something, worked three years as a paralegal for the Kamos. Whole damn package, and the best thing?” He draws his palm away, slowly enough to build anticipation. “She’s drop-dead gorgeous.”
“Satoru, I told you—”
Whatever was supposed to complete that sentence withers at the tip of Suguru’s tongue, amber irises blown as they take in every detail of your face, animating your features as if you’re truly there with them, and for a moment, he tricks himself into thinking you are.
He sees your lips—those pretty lips he swears taste like honey without kissing them—drawing away from your teeth, the mellifluous sound of your laughter coating the rumble of prints being made somewhere in the background. He knows that a picture can’t possibly hold such power, and yet the subtle floral notes in your perfume reach him, prevailing so easily over the stench of ink and coffee and enchanting him into agreeing with his friend.
She is gorgeous. Perhaps the most gorgeous woman he’s laid eyes on.
You are.
“Come on, Suguru. This one’s super cute!” Satoru argues in your favor, his jaw piercing his friend’s shoulder. “Seriously, if you’re not hiring her, then I am. I can always lay off one of my—”
“Looks like you are off the hook, Satoru. This one will do.”
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/bc0d63d18171b4a7f5311afd2f94adb7/c14c7467bea6bf46-4d/s540x810/97da6c6f5aee749a3b90a96cccfe0502e50961a7.jpg)
“And this is the kitchen. I recommend making the most of our espresso maker or heading to the cafeteria on the first floor—unless you don’t mind your coffee tasting like watered-down sugar.” Suguru nods toward the pyramid of instant coffee boxes stacked in the corner, conscious of the doe eyes that track his every gesture.
The picture barely did you any justice. You are so much prettier in person with your well-fitting two-piece suit and the pocket notebook you carry, penning down everything he says, down to the locations of kitchenware and the names of employees you meet along the way. He can’t tell whether you’re not confident enough in your ability to memorize things or simply overzealous. No matter the case, he finds your little habit endearing, but then again, the opinion of a man who endeared himself to you ahead of your acquaintance is not to be taken at face value.
“What’s the matter?” He cocks his head to the side, gaze drawn to the pen stilled in your grasp. “Too much info?”
“More like too many handles and blinking lights. One wrong button, and the whole building detonates.” You glance at him over the pages, your tone delineating a smile he cannot see.
He returns it, piecing the bang that typically never bothers him behind his ear. “Sato—I mean, Senior Partner Gojo received this as a gift from Zen’in Naobito when we moved to this building.”
“Is that so? I thought Zen’in Group was notoriously at odds with Gojo Group.”
“Oh, they are. But it’s common business tactics to trade one overpriced gift for another to see who breaks bank first.” Suguru hums, grabbing a clean mug from the rack and initiating the twelve-step process required to brew a single cup of coffee. “If I remember correctly, our side sent them a private sushi chef. His work hours were paid; the fish, not so much. Sugar?” He smirks, stirring the amount you call in your coffee.
“What happened after? Off the record.” You tap your notebook shut, and the smile he thought he heard is there, seen on your lips and felt in his heart, warmer than the beverage his hand offers.
“They kept him around for about a month before politely declining our generosity. I guess there’s a limit to how much bluefin tuna the rich can stomach.” His narrowed eyes crinkle fondly while he watches you blow the steam from your face and take your first sip. “Hope it’s to your liking.”
“The coffee or the story?”
“Both. But mostly the coffee.”
“It’s really good.” You nod appreciatively. “Thank you!”
“Don’t mention it.” Suguru disposes of the used coffee beans, failing to, however, rid himself of the soft smile perching on his lips. “It’ll take a while to get used to it, so feel free to come to me whenever you need more coffee. Or another story.”
“I could never disturb you for something like that.” You shake your head along with your hands. “What kind of assistant asks her boss to make her coffee?”
The word “boss” carries a negative connotation coming from your lips; the few inches that keep you apart rapidly expand into miles, and he hates that. It’s a gap he doesn’t want to see widened any further.
“How about you think of us as partners, then?” Suguru takes a leap while the distance’s short. “None of us gets paid to make coffee either way.”
You seem hesitant to agree, holding the weight of his stare until your determination crumbles. “Fine. But only till I get the hang of it. Then you’ll be greeted with a cup of freshly brewed espresso on your desk every morning.”
“That’s very thoughtful, but I’d rather be served tea instead. Red with one sugar?”
Overzealous , he decides as you hurriedly flip through the pages to scribble his order.
He wonders what your handwriting is like. Whether it’s scrawled and stumpy or eloquent and delicate, which isn’t the most fascinating thing to wonder about a person, but he can’t help himself from trying to pierce through the hardcover for a glimpse at your thoughts, unwittingly attracting your attention.
You share a look that flourishes over a second and withers within an eternity, its remains scattering into an airy chuckle as the machine cuts in with a sudden choo .
“I’m s-sorry!” You bow your head, bottom lip sticking out while you fail to suppress your amusement. “I didn’t expect it to sound like this. It’s just like—”
“Mhm, it does resemble the bullet train to Sendai a bit, doesn’t it?”
Suguru doesn’t necessarily think of himself as a funny man. But witnessing the little dance your fingers perform as you struggle to keep the cup steady, he might as well be the funniest man in the whole wide world.
“Shall we get going?” He prompts. “I still haven’t shown you to your office.”
“Please lead the way. Partner.” You add, unaware that the man who cruises you by almost trips over his feet. In his mind, at least.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/bc0d63d18171b4a7f5311afd2f94adb7/c14c7467bea6bf46-4d/s540x810/97da6c6f5aee749a3b90a96cccfe0502e50961a7.jpg)
Walking among the cubicles where various paralegals have their noses buried within tower-height stacks of memoranda, Suguru goes over your shared schedule and what is expected of you in the upcoming days, silently praying that you don’t question his insistence to wipe his sweaty palms against his slacks. He hasn’t been this stressed since he and Satoru were studying for the bar exam, and even then, it wasn’t him he was stressing about.
He recites, and you diligently take notes, up until the compact desks lessen and you find yourselves standing in front of an open space with its own reception. The senior partners’ offices—or, in other words, your boss’ and his boss’ offices.
“Hey, Shoko. Got anything for me?” Suguru asks the disinterested brunette seated at the front desk.
The woman’s eyes dart between the two of you. She acknowledges your presence with a curt bow, hardly bothering to put out her cigarette in the tray behind her. “Just this.” She pulls a yellow folder from one of the drawers and hands it to him, smoke wafting when she speaks. “It’s a letter of intent; Nanami brought it himself. Says it’s important.
“How much longer do I have to keep this up?” Shoko asks, a red imprint from where her wrist was previously propping her cheek against her elbow.
Suguru takes out the papers, skimming through the lines before stuffing them back inside and giving her a tiny smile.
“Thank you for your service, Shoko. You are fired.”
“Yay!” The woman excites in the same deadpan tone, grabbing her bag and almost knocking you down with how quick she is to flee the company premises.
“Is she—”
“Don’t worry about her.” Suguru’s attention returns to you. “She’s just a friend filling in for us.”
The way he uses the term friend is deliberate. Normally, he wouldn’t care what people make of his and Satoru’s relationship with the third member of their group, but he doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea.
Tucking the folder under his armpit, Suguru proceeds to lead you to your office, situated in the same open space although much closer to the wooden door that spells his full name and title in capital gold lettering—another of Satoru’s fanciful insistences.
Your desk is half as wide as the reception’s, yet twice as spacious as the cubicle ones. The company’s logo bounces across an idle computer screen, dust particles dancing amidst the glaring light of high noon. There is a telephone and some stationery that’s either sorted in a silver pencil holder or frames the hefty planner at the center, though it’s the sticky notes dangling from its pages that end up piquing your interest.
Suguru suffered through the teasing of a lifetime for spending his entire weekend summarizing case files just so your first days wouldn’t be hectic.
(“Good for you, Suguru.” Satoru snickered from his sumptuous recliner, a tennis ball bouncing from the wall back to his hand. “Getting your first crush at the age of 28. What’s next? Drawing your initials in little hearts for her to see how well your names fit together?”
“Shut up." Suguru clicked his pen against his head, stretching his feet below the workbench-turned kotatsu. "Some people happen to function better in organized environments.”
“Mhm , all I’m hearing is Suguru and Y/N sitting on a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” Satoru sang at an annoyingly gleeful pitch.)
“This,” you reel him back to the present. “You did this?”
Your eyes gleam like twin stars in their sockets. Clear, brilliant, and bright, but most importantly, boring into his.
Good for you, Suguru. Getting your first crush at the age of 28.
Suguru nearly waves his hand over his face to disperse his friend’s voice. It’s not a crush. He doesn’t think it is. Admitting to what is beautiful and reacting to it is a natural human response that has nothing to do with feelings of any kind. This is ephemeral.
“Y-yes.” A dry cough clears the hoarseness in his throat. “Thought it’d make your life easier if you knew where to focus instead of running around like a headless chicken.” He shifts through the pages in your hands. “Naturally, the indicators attached to closer dates are more urgent than the ones pushed further back, though they’re also sorted by color. Green means you can do it at your leisure, while bright pink means—”
“Danger, death, don’t skip?” You smile, and he nods eagerly. A bit too eagerly. Just like a schoolboy who was praised for giving the right answer, even though you were the one who answered correctly.
Maybe kissing on a tree wouldn’t be so bad.
“Thank you for doing this. And for hiring me.” You suddenly grow timid, bottom lip trapped in a shy smile as you extend your hand to him. “Working for this company is a great opportunity on its own, but working under—with ,” you correct yourself, “someone who values their juniors and goes the extra mile for them is like hitting the lottery.” A chuckle slips. “Apologies, the different colored sticky notes got to me.”
Soft. So damn soft. Your hand is so fucking soft, enveloping his own, that he curses himself for not coming up with the idea of a handshake when he first welcomed you at the lobby. It is a problem because he doesn’t want to let go, and when he does, he does so begrudgingly, his rougher finger pads dragging over your smooth skin and lingering above your polished fingernails with such delicacy as if they were freshly bloomed rosebuds.
“There are more in the drawer.” He nods toward the first drawer, a smirk coming as an afterthought. “Paper clips too.”
“Don’t tell me there’s a stapler in there too!” You gasp dramatically.
“Guess you’re gonna have to see for yourself.” His head droops to the side, and he smiles.
Your head droops to the side, and you smile back. You. Smile. Back.
The notion settles in his heart before registering in his brain, nestling where nothing can pry it off and inking itself as an indelible memory that’s bound to haunt him throughout the review of the Tengen shares redistribution, on which he better get started.
“Well, then. I’ll leave you to it.”
He manages about three steps away when your voice has him stopping in his tracks.
“Mr. Geto, you shouldn’t have!”
There are quite a few things he shouldn’t have done. For starters, waking up two hours ahead of his alarm, mixing the salt with the sugar in his morning tea (though something tells him that was the work of someone else), wearing his watch on the wrong wrist, and letting himself be smitten with his brand new assistant, whom he’s barely known for half a day. But you don’t know about any of those things. At least he hopes you don’t.
So, which one is it?
He turns around slowly, jaw almost dropping at the flower field spanning between your arms, roses redder than the blood boiling in his veins and peonies pinker than the tinge rising high on your cheeks—an arrangement bound with ivory wrapping paper.
“How do you like your welcoming gift?” The harbinger of disaster, conveniently known as his best friend, boss, and apparent competitor, makes his entrance.
“You are—”
“Gojo Satoru—local entrepreneur of the year, number one in Forbes’ 30 under 30, featured on the cover of Times magazine, most eligible bachelor in the world after his highness, the Archduke of Austria, and ringleader of this establishment—in the flesh!” He introduces himself like a certain character from Game of Thrones would, taking an excessively dramatic bow and rushing to your side with a wolfish smile that sharpens his otherwise gentle features.
“And you must be Y/N, right?” Without hesitation, Satoru hops into first name basis, cerulean eyes casting an indiscreet look over his sunglasses as he bends forward, hands kept on his knees. “My, you are even more beautiful in person! The picture did you no justice at all!”
And just like that, every single word that’d steadily been brewing in Suguru’s mind is taken away from him, Satoru praising you with the same ease and unparalleled confidence he bought the extravagant bouquet in your embrace, one that befits a lifelong lover more than a newly acquainted colleague.
“Mr. Gojo, I—I don’t know what to say.” Your eyes remain glued to the flowers, tense shoulders slightly squirming.
“Hmm, how about you start with dropping the honorifics? I hate having barriers between me and my employees.” He didn’t seem to hate barriers when he made Ijichi address him as Grand Emperor Gojo for a month straight as punishment. “We are all the same age here. Call me Gojo unless,” he smirks playfully, tilting his head to where you can no longer escape him, “you feel bold enough to call me Satoru.”
“Satoru.” The monotone intonation of his name carries a warning the white-haired man heeds, sparing you in favor of using his friend’s shoulder as an armrest.
“Suguru! Are you done with showing our”—our?—“lovely new assistant around?”
“What’s with the flowers?”
“The flowers?” Satoru chuckles boisterously. “What are you talking about? That’s how I welcome every new member of our team!”
“I don’t remember receiving any flowers when I signed my contract.” A mumble is met with a light elbow to his neck.
“You get paid enough to afford your own.” Satoru huffs, switching back to his amicable persona in the blink of an eye—your watchful eye that’s been studying them without daring to interfere. Another chuckle, accompanied by a poke to Suguru's cheek. “Tulips or dahlias? Name it, and I’ll turn your office into a greenhouse.”
“Please, don’t.”
“Are the two of you close?” Your voice forces the two men to break from each other, a furtive glance shared among them.
“Suuuuper close!” Satoru squeezes his friend’s shoulders into another unwanted embrace. “Been best friends since—third grade, was it? Hah, remember the time you called principal Yaga mom during morning assembly, and he started growing out his beard ‘cause he thought he wasn’t manly enough? Hilarious.”
Anger seethes in Suguru’s guts like a shaken can of soda about to combust, fizzling out before it can reach its boiling point. “Satoru.” He grits his teeth. “Weren’t you supposed to be at the shareholder meeting?”
“The shareholder—” He repeats, almost surprised, laughing awkwardly to himself. “Oh, turns out I wasn’t needed much. Left Ijichi in charge; he should be fine. Probably .”
A caricature of Ijichi suffering a mental breakdown while trying to placate those senile, cymbal-hitting monkeys plays in both their heads, barring yours.
“Ijichi is President Gojo’s personal assistant.” Suguru explains, pinching Satoru’s sleeve away from his body—except he doesn’t budge. “He’s been working under Satoru for the past four months as his secretary, reporting directly to his father since his only son wasn’t so good at budget handling and had his allowance cut. Isn’t that right, Satoru?”
“Let’s not talk about such tedious subjects in front of Y/N.” The man pulls away at once, running a hand through messy strands of white.
“I actually don’t mind—”
“Measuring up to all your quirks and abiding by your crazy filing system should bore her enough on its own.” He cuts you off, speaking behind his palm as if his words are meant solely for you. “Has Suguru shown you his little planner? Took him two all-nighters to put it together, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
He rests assured in his victory, not counting on you being the one who knocks him down a peg.
“Mhm, he already did, and I already thanked him. I’m a firm believer that a clear desk means a clear mind, and a clear mind means efficiency.” The flowers are at last unloaded upon your desk, their lengthy stems covering about two-thirds of the furniture. “Cluttering your workspace with a bunch of unnecessary items will only stagger your progress and make you fall behind. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Gojo?”
It’s rare to catch Satoru at a loss for words, yet there he stands, completely still and utterly speechless at your mercy, his expression akin to that of a wrongfully sprayed kitten.
The two of you turn to Suguru, seeking some sort of recognition that would settle the score. Any other person in his shoes would side with the authority in the room, but your referee decides to sit this one out.
He knows what Satoru is thinking. Substance is dull without style, and tri-colored dango tastes best in spring. He never had to choose one over the other, but giving you a piece of his mind would make him look indecisive—or worse, shallow—and he doesn’t want that. He wants to look good in front of you, or else he wouldn’t have worn his most expensive suit and bailed out of the most important meeting of the month.
He dug his own grave, and unexpectedly, the helping hand that pulls him out belongs to the one who first cast dirt upon his casket.
“Thank you for the flowers, Mr. Gojo. They might not have a place on my desk, but they’ll sure make a lovely centerpiece for my table at home. Peonies, right?” Your smile is effortlessly disarming. “I don’t know much about flowers, but I hear they symbolize good fortune.”
“They do?” Satoru asks, slapping the stupefied expression off his face. “I mean, yeah! Of course they do!” He bounces back, soft dimples obliterating a deep-carved frown. “I hope your time here brings you lots of good fortune. I know the place already seems more fortunate with you around.”
You chuckle warmly, locking eyes with an impressed Suguru. No one’s ever made Satoru both lose face and helped him save some over the span of a single five-minute conversation. No one but Suguru himself.
He made the right choice by hiring you.
“The rumors about the future head of the company were true. You really are everything they make you out to be.”
“Huh? What rumors? What do they say about me?” Satoru chases you to your desk, an imaginary tail wagging behind him as he watches you pick up your notebook and flip to a blank page.
“How do you drink your coffee?” A tap of your pen. “I know it’s not much, but...I’d like to repay your kindness.”
Oh no. Here we go again.
“I’m pretty easy. I drink my espresso with six sugar cubes, my cappuccino with nine pumps of caramel syrup, sweet condensed milk, whipped cream, and caramel drizzle on top—and, of course, the six sugar cubes. In the summer— oh crap, I almost forgot, I also like mocha, both white and regular, again same toppings—I usually go for iced lattes with—”
Two minutes into taking his order, and about twenty seconds after your pen stops moving, you glance at Suguru for help. The man simply shrugs, amusement hinted in his cat-like eyes.
There is a good reason why the kitchen’s loaded on instant coffee, and that’s because it’s the only thing that can quench Satoru’s sweet tooth on the spot. You’re going to have to figure that out on your own, just like every other unfortunate soul in this company did when they stupidly offered to treat him.
“That reminds me!” A finger snap concludes his monologue. “Suguru, you know what day it is?”
“Tuesday?”
“You mean one-plus-one Tuesday. Ah, you have no idea how much I've been looking forward to my weekly croquette sandwich; wouldn’t have gotten out of bed if it wasn't for it. Erm , and you ,” he says, again running his fingers through his hair as he bestows you with another laid-back smile. “The two highlights of my week.”
Suguru sighs, convincing himself it’s the prospect of leaving so much work behind that doesn’t excite him and not the sight of Satoru’s affections being subtly reciprocated.
“So, you coming?” Satoru asks.
“I’m gonna have to pass.”
“What?” He gapes, hand clutching his chest like a child who just found out they’re adopted. “Why?”
“Because we are meeting with Tengen’s representatives at the end of the week and they’ll withdraw their investment unless we have a clear model for their merger.” Suguru reminds him. “Besides, Satoru, you don’t need me to buy lunch when you can literally buy out the place with one of your cards.”
Fixing his glasses higher over his nose, Satoru opens his mouth to complain, deciding against it at the last minute. He shoots a haughty look in Suguru's general direction. “Well, if you’re really that busy, then—ah, guess it can’t be helped. Least you can do is be responsible and send a replacement. And who could that replacement be—hmm, if only there was an available candidate.”
He scopes the place with a palm horizontal to his eyes, stopping once he supposedly detects your presence. “What do you say, new girl? Perhaps this could be our chance to get to know each other. I bet there’s so much you’re dying to ask me.” He says with a stare far too playful to be deemed salacious.
Round glasses come off as Satoru leans against your desk and plays up his charms. You are drawn to the blue spirals in his eyes, mesmerized by their sublime beauty, and in a way, it’s nature’s will for the stars to seek the skies, but Suguru can’t stand for it. Not when such bitterness floods his palate, spreading into his bloodstream like poison that prompts his body to move against every volition that isn’t his own.
“Let’s go.” He rasps in a nearly menacing tone, claw-like fingers closing around Satoru’s shoulder. “Your treat.”
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"She is scary!" Breadcrumbs fall from Satoru's mouth as he takes another bite out of his lunch, tonkatsu sauce overlining his cupid's bow. "Terrifying even."
"I thought you said she was hot." Suguru states wryly, still in the process of peeling the fifteen layers of wrapping paper that encompass his sandwich, when he pauses to offer Satoru a couple of napkins.
He mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like thank you, and wipes his lips clean, only to dirty them with another sloppy bite.
"She is," he agrees after gulping down, snowy eyelashes fluttering shut to a moan that has people from different tables turning heads to theirs. "Both scary and hot. Scarily hot. Mmm, so damn good~"
Another obscene sound vibrates in his throat, and this time, Suguru fails to hide his disgust, staring at his friend like a disappointed mother at a parent-teacher conference.
"What?" Satoru asks, the blue in his eyes expanding as he touches his cheek. "Is there something on my face?"
"Satoru." Suguru shakes his head, speaking in a quiet voice all the while pleading with him to stop acting grossly in public.
It's safe to say his request isn't received well, although it takes just one mention of your name for Satoru to let go of his grudge and perk up again.
"Did you see how mean she was to me?" The giddiness in his tone fails to match his words. "Ready to walk all over me with those heels. Bet she would have if you weren't there."
"And? Giving up already?" Suguru teases.
"Who said I am?" Satoru chugs his coke. "Just hafta try harder."
Any joy Suguru might have felt at his friend's misery ends up parching in his throat, squinted eyes casting an inexcusably hard glare on the sandwich he grips with malice.
"God, did ya see her smile? Bet her lips taste like heaven."
"And what does heaven taste like?"
"Probably as good as this," Satoru says, nodding to his half-finished meal, "but sweeter. Infinite times sweeter. I'll let you know once I find out for myself."
Every word that comes out of Satoru's mouth causes Suguru's fingers to clutch tighter and tighter until the croquettes explode out of his sandwich, splattering the table and his hand with bits of potato and sauce.
"Ah. Sorry, I wasn't—" Suguru drops the remains on his plate, cleaning his fingers one by one. He isn't even sure what he's apologizing for.
"Want me to get you another?" Satoru offers. "I could go for seconds."
"It's fine. Not hungry anymore."
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Gardenia or tuberose?
The same question repeats in Suguru's brain, begging to distract him from the slew of paperwork he's been asked to sign, but not from the actual distraction that is bent over his desk, making him question not just his sanity but also his self-control.
Tuberose.
He doesn't think much of either is left when he breathes in the perfume dabbed around your shirt's open collar, alluring to the point where he catches himself chasing after your neck like a hound dog—heavy breath hitching in his chest.
Gardenia.
He doubts he has any left when his amber eyes peer into your cleavage, tracing the contour between your supple breasts down to the first popped button of your shirt—large palms aching to seize them.
Tuberose.
He realizes he is not half the decent man he was about a month ago when his cock twitches at the sight of your pencil skirt riding higher on your thighs, the black seams of your sheered stockings promising a fast track to your tight little cunt—and how he’d love to gain access to that.
Gardenia or tuberose; who cares?
Figuring out the notes in your perfume is about the last thing Suguru cares about when every inch of his body urges him to blow your back against the lavish mahogany, signing the rest of these documents in a mix of your spit and tears. But it's what helps keep those intrusive thoughts from spilling out.
"One more signature here." Ignorant about his dark impulses, you shuffle through the papers and point at another blank place of signature he needs to fill. "It's a referral agreement for Miss Mei's services. She said the terms were verbally agreed upon, but feel free to go over them again and suggest any adjustments."
"That won't be necessary." With a few quick flicks of his pen, Suguru jots down his name. "Thank you for your hard work."
He struggles to meet your eyes without first halting at your tits as you collect the documents and hug them (regrettably) close to your chest, pulling away from his desk to stand before him.
"Thank you for your hard work, Mr. Geto!" A sweet smile is plastered on your face, and he can't help but wonder whether you'd continue smiling at him if you ever caught a whiff of the filth festering in his brain.
He doesn't like what his feelings have matured into. He's not proud that every time your eyes cross, he muses over what they'd look like rolling to the back of your skull or how sometimes he'll lock his office door and beat his cock to the thought of your pretty nails digging in his thighs while he bullies his length into the heat of your throat.
He hates that those aren't even his own thoughts but were rather instilled in him by Satoru, who couldn't be more vocal and descriptive of his own fantasies if he wanted to. He's the same way about his advances, and it drives Suguru insane to see his friend making such quick headway because he remains Mr. Geto while he gets to be Satoru.
It's all because of that damn merger...
The first time Suguru heard you address Satoru by his first name came right after a business meal he was forced to sit out of. Someone had to deal with the last-minute amendment Tengen requested to their already-filed and approved work plan, while another entertained their prospective investors. Seeing as Satoru was the face of the company, he couldn't possibly miss such an important meeting, and so they divided responsibilities.
Suguru stayed back to deal with the crisis, but not without sending you on his behalf—all pretty and dolled-up in your navy halter dress and black pumps, shining like the evening star by Satoru's side, only to come back completely drained of light with the worst shoe bite known to man.
Ever the observant gentleman, Suguru ran to the nearest drugstore, returning to the office with his heart in his mouth and a bag full of supplies that dropped from his hands the moment he saw his best friend kneel before your feet, tying the shoelaces of a newly bought pair of sneakers.
Thank you, Satoru.
The same scene repeated itself many a time, his lesser romantic gestures outdone by a price tag he couldn't match and words he couldn't brace himself to say just yet.
A fluff of white hair orbited around your desk at a constant, like a bumblebee who'd discovered an inexhaustible source of nectar, and you grew close enough not to swat it—him—away. You'd answer his jokes with mirthful chuckles, and he'd answer your “Here's your stomach ache of a cappuccino, Satoru” with platinum-coated Mont Blanc pens and luxury Moleskine agendas. Plural.
Light touches, flirty smiles, and heart-eyes in both your voices, whose volume bypassed his closed door as an irritating buzz that had Suguru wondering whether there had been a change of offices.
The breaking point came two nights ago, when, in the spur of jealousy, he heaped you with enough work to keep your desk lamp burning all night long. He regretted it as soon as he got into his car, and then he stepped on the pedal, driving to that one Chinese place he and Satoru frequented while they were still students—driving again like a maniac to ensure the food reached you hot.
But great minds think alike.
By the time Suguru made it back into the office, a proper candle-lit dinner was held over the scattered papers on your desk that then doubled as coasters. A second chair was drawn near yours, two silhouettes huddled together. Shoulders nudging, chopsticks lifted—and he refused to stick around long enough to watch his best friend feed dumplings directly into your mouth, along with whatever was bound to follow.
Which pulls him back to the current reality of his foggy windows and the cold tea on his desk, with present-you staring at him, oblivious to his dilemma.
He knows he has no right to feel this way. You aren't his property, and contrary to what the media wants the world to believe, Satoru isn't some heartless womanizer who changes girls the same way people change socks. In fact, Suguru can't remember the last time he saw Satoru this invested in a person. You hitting it off is a good thing. He should be happy.
He should be.
He really should.
But he isn't.
He really isn't.
And he doubts he'll ever be, because in his whole life, he's never envied anything that Satoru has. Not his money, not his status, not his prestige—not anything. You're the first thing he's ever envied—the first he's ever wanted. Because you are his assistant, and within the wretched spiral of his desires, that should amount to something.
You should be his.
"So.” Suguru takes a sip of his tea, trying his hardest not to cringe at its unpleasant, lukewarm taste. "Any special plans for the holidays?"
You shake your head slowly and then with more confidence again.
"That's good." He blurts out, masking his relief with a low chuckle. "I mean—"
“I get it.” You chuckle back. “Not a big fan of the holidays, are you?”
“Not a hater either. Satoru,” he mentally curses himself for bringing him up now, “is the one who gets all excited about Christmas. Gives him the perfect opportunity to put on a show without being chastised by President Gojo. Hard to argue back when he brings up the morale of the team."
“Well, everyone seems to be excited for the party." You add. "Especially the interns; heard them gushing about it with Assistant Manager Haibara."
"I don't suppose Intern Fushiguro was with them, was he?" Suguru smirks as you confirm his suspicions. The boy might be Satoru's protegee, yet the two are like night and day when it comes to means of entertainment.
"It's Intern Kugisaki and Intern Itadori's first Christmas at our company, and the press always finds a way to glorify anything related to the Gojos." Suguru continues. "The annual Christmas party isn't an exception. Outsiders need a special invitation, and only a select few make the cut."
"We should consider ourselves lucky, then." You point out.
"Mhm," he hums. "Come think of it, it's your first Christmas with us too. Are you excited?" A teasing lilt colors his voice.
"Definitely am!" You humor him. "Especially after hearing about the ugly sweater contest."
"Fan of the sport or the prize?"
"Both. But five days at a deluxe resort in Okinawa do sound enticing."
"I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you." Suguru folds his arms over his chest and tilts back against his chair. A condescending look spreads over his features.
You mirror his stance, sticking your right heel out. "And why is that? Are you competing perhaps?"
He snorts as if the notion alone is plain ridiculous. "I'm not, but Nanami is."
"Nanami? Manager Nanami?" You blink in disbelief, trying and mostly failing to contain your laughter. Not like he can fault you. A man as practical and square-minded as Nanami sporting sweaters that feature 3D reindeer heads is a sight one must see in order to believe.
"He's oddly passionate about this." Suguru explains. "He's won every contest for the past four years, just to enjoy a little time off."
"I should give it my best then."
"I'll be cheering for you." He promises with a wink, picking up on the faint blush that dusts your cheeks. A small victory.
You bite your lip and cast a gaze to the floor before lifting your head in search of the clock on his wall. He sighs internally.
"So." You return to the beginning of your discussion.
"So." He repeats with a softer tone.
"I guess I'll be seeing you at the party?"
"Guess you will." He nods, gesturing toward the door. "You may go. I need to finish these first.
You nod back and hold onto the door knob, turning around one last time to bow at him. "There's an extra umbrella on my desk. Feel free to take it."
Before Suguru can even consider his answer, you turn into smoke, leaving him with a hopeful smile he scolds himself for. A thoughtful gesture can't possibly undo all the sorrow and anguish he experienced over the course of a mere month.
And yet he still finds himself skipping to your desk, grinning now at the little piece of paper that dangles from the umbrella's handle. It's not a spare, that's for sure.
As lightning cracks the gloomy skies above, Suguru faces toward the window, tracking the thunder's tail down to gray cement, where colorful umbrellas dance around like anemones. Yours twirls like the most beautiful flower of all, vivid petals drawing into themselves as you're ushered into a white SUV by a hand belonging to a man he knows all too well—driven away while Suguru stands there watching, feeling as if cold rain pours over him instead.
He sets down the umbrella and returns to his office.
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After the fifth replay of "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" blasts over the speakers, Suguru begins to reconsider the answer he gave you less than 24 hours ago.
He hates Christmas—the buzz, the fuss. The forced happiness and the self-inflicted festive glee. The repetitive songs and the continuous camera flash. The stuffy atmosphere and the nausea-inducing blinking lights. How every snack gets labeled with an ambiguous "Christmas flavor," as if a holiday can have a taste in the first place; he hates all that.
But most of all, he hates not being the one to stand beside you under that damn mistletoe—a spectator among spectators and an outcast even among them.
Champagne trembles in his hand as he watches the crowd gather around you and Satoru, smothering you with cheers that sound a beat above the music, excessive clapping synchronized for the sake of a four-letter word chanted like a prayer. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!
You don't give in to their demands. Not immediately, at least. There is some awkward fumbling, a hand weaving through semi-combed strands of white, and the pointy end of a heel dragging incomplete circles. You shake your heads in unison, giggling, making a very weak effort to get yourselves out of this predicament, though the people know exactly what they want. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!
It's quick and painless. Chaste, as Satoru leans forward and pecks your cheek, grinning a shit-eating grin from one ear to the other when he pulls away and waves off the jeers. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Louder this time. His lips move soundlessly, wordless speech bubbles emerging in faux protest as if he isn't dying to kiss you, as if you aren't dying to be kissed by the most important man in the room, as if this poorly executed play isn't staged.
Suguru finds himself wishing you'd get it over with, yet he can't bring himself to turn away. Much like everyone else, his gaze is fixed on you, enchanted by you since day one, and imprisoned in a dismal spell that continues to wring his heart for all its worth, threatening to leave him shattered.
You take initiative this once. Stepping in front of Satoru, your fingers seek the hem of his cream-colored cashmere sweater. You pull him to you, reeling and reeling and reeling, and—
"Merry Christmas, Mr. Geto!" A pair of impressionable eyes widen before him, stretched arms springing from the man's body as he jumps before Suguru like a jack-in-the-box.
"Haibara." He acknowledges with a sigh, uncertain of whether he should be thanking him or scolding him for blocking his view.
By the time his junior pulls aside, the spectacle is already over. Everyone has returned to their previous positions, resuming their conversations away from you and Satoru, who are left gleaming like Christmas ornaments, tinged red from head to toe.
"Mm, these taste so good! Mr. Geto, you need to try one," Haibara says, lifting a platter of canapés from the buffet behind them.
Suguru forces himself to smile as he throws a salmon spread into his mouth. He swallows without understanding any flavor, washing the crumbs away with some more champagne, the buzz of alcohol promising to dull out his affliction.
"Are you enjoying the party?"
"Very much so!" Haibara answers full of excitement. "So many new faces have gathered since last year; I'm so glad to be a part of this. Nanami even let me help with his sweater design!"
"Is that so?" Suguru chuckles wryly, scanning through the guests for the blond.
He spots Nanami loitering by where your desk is normally stationed (the majority of furniture relocated for the sake of opening up the space), and while he cannot see the front of his burgundy sweater, he can easily make out the antler headband sitting on both his and Itadori's heads, the two men seeming to have joined forces.
The discussion between Haibara and Suguru soon turns stale, with the former gushing about the inner happenings of the sales department and the latter absently nodding in approval, his attention monopolized by the exchange between you and Satoru.
Even when the occasional guest butts in, you remain inseparably bound to each other through your clothes (both of you dressed to the nines despite your intent to partake in the contest), your gestures, and the hands that gain familiarity over time. His slips around your lower back as he whispers in your ear; yours throws a playful punch at his shoulder, while you giggle at whatever he just said.
Probably some crappy Christmas pick-up line, Suguru decides. Something like, Wanna pop by my apartment later? No need for any mistletoe when we're both under my sheets, followed by a Satoru! Not here; people are watching .
"Mr. Gojo and Ms. Y/N sure look friendly." Haibara's observation comes as the final nail in the coffin.
Suguru murmurs in a low tone. "Think she's interested in him?"
"Hard to find a person who isn't interested in Mr. Gojo." Haibara earnestly replies.
“Right…”
"But the same goes for you too, Mr. Geto." Haibara's voice prompts Suguru to face him. A soft smile plays on the younger man's lips, his cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink. "I've been looking up to you since I first started working here. All of us do, even Nanami."
"You do?" Suguru draws confidence from his junior's timidity, enough to bestow him with a lopsided smile. "Why is that?"
"Because you are a hard worker!" Haibara declares. "Mr. Gojo is brilliant, but he was born into it. For us to reach him, that's impossible. You, on the other hand—you built yourself from the ground up. You are not only meticulous and good at your job, but you are also immeasurably kind! Both before and after your promotion, you've cared for us juniors and made the company a hospitable place for everyone. You are the goal we aspire to reach; you are our role model."
Working with someone who values their juniors and goes the extra mile for them is like hitting the lottery.
A role model, huh...
Your words mix with Haibara's, swirling round and round at the languid pace of alcohol in his brain, inebriating enough for him to not reject them like he otherwise would. He knows what needs to be said. I'm the one who's grateful. I wouldn't have gotten this far if it weren't for such capable juniors. Satoru is the one you should be thanking instead.
Satoru, Satoru, Satoru .
It's all him; it's always him. Everyone and everything in this room is here because of him, yet for the second time, Suguru is thanked for his efforts. For the nights he spent reviewing reports, fixing typos, and making overseas phone calls. For buttering clients up and spending every waking minute of his life networking. For talking people through their breakdowns and promising them their work makes a difference; that they matter.
It's almost enough to make up for all the unconditional praise his best friend received since birth, though Suguru refuses to let that be his consolation prize. Not when the perfect winning prize lies right ahead of him and waltzes into his office. Alone .
A glassy sound is produced as Suguru drops off his champagne and smiles at his colleague from over his shoulder.
"Merry Christmas, Haibara."
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The door creaks softly behind Suguru as he enters his cloakroom-turned office, the faint click of a lock muffled out by the fading party music, its people fading with until it’s just you and him, away from distractions and interruptions, but more importantly, away from Satoru.
You haven’t noticed him yet. Your back’s turned on him, the golden threads of your sweater twinkling in the dark while you rummage through the coat racks, feeling out every texture with your fingertips. Wool, nylon, leather, and finally, cotton. The dark-colored jacket is slung over your arm, with your other hand digging into each pocket for… something .
Something that falls to the wayside once you become aware of the man’s presence and let out a tiny shriek.
“Mr. Geto!” There you go with that damn honorific again. “What are you doing here?"
"Am I not allowed into my own office?" Suguru sneers as he paces farther inside, his palms clasped behind his back.
"Y-you just scared me, is all."
He settles against his desk to study your startled features. You look even more beautiful when there's no one to steal your shine—a modern-day princess Kaguya, beckoned by the moonlight to return to its cratered land, although he’s made up his mind. Unlike the emperor in the story, he won’t let you escape him.
"Wasn't my intention." Drowning out his adoration, he cocks his head to the side and nods at your jacket. “Leaving already?”
“No, uh.” You fidget awkwardly, shoving whatever it is that your fingers caught back in your pocket. “Satoru asked—”
“Satoru, huh?” His tongue clicks in distaste. "You do anything Satoru asks?"
“What?” You question your own hearing, though he knows you heard him just fine. He sees it trembling in your eyes—feels it fanning against his jaw as he pulls away from his desk and stands before you, looking down on you in more than one way.
"I said, you'd do anything as long as Satoru is the one asking?"
"I...I'm not sure I understand."
"You don't?" His tone is syrupy, yet not sweet—a smile too condescending to be compassionate. "Allow me to rephrase, then. If Satoru asked you to spread your legs for him, would you?"
"Mr. Geto, I think you had too much to drink.” You chuckle nervously, gesturing toward his shoulder while simultaneously avoiding his stare. “Should I call you a cab? I don’t think you’re in a condition to drive.”
“No.” Suguru snaps, swatting your hand away. “No, you don’t get to play good assistant now. I asked you a question. Answer.”
He doesn't miss the hesitant bow of your head, which only confirms his suspicions. You want his best friend, and for once, he doesn't care that you do. It doesn't upset him. If anything, it offers him greater incentive to keep going without regard for your feelings or his own.
"Wasn't so hard, was it?" The last vestige of bitterness follows him to the coffee table, where he grabs a seat by one of the two chairs, wood screeching like nails across a blackboard. Mounting one leg atop the other, "Can't say I blame you. President Gojo is growing too old to be running things, and Satoru already handles the majority of his affairs. Won't be long until he assumes office, and when he does, whoever is on his side will benefit the most."
Your silence encourages Suguru to continue. "But as things currently stand, you aren't all that important to him, are you? And if you were to suddenly lose your position, his interest in you would probably diminish."
"What do you want?" Your voice is meek when you speak—a pitiful sound begging to tug at his heartstrings.
Except he has no pity left.
Suguru leans forward and spreads his thighs over the cushion. His elbows prop against them, with his intertwined fingers providing a seat for his clenched jaw—dark eyes ever drilling holes into your fragile skull.
“It’s not about what I want, but about what you want. You said that working at this company is a great opportunity, and you’re right. It really is. I’d hate for you to lose it over a simple matter of allegiance.”
“Allegiance?” You echo.
He nods. “Don’t you think an assistant should be loyal to the one who hired her? You get paid to do what I say, not whore yourself to Satoru. If I tell you to jump, you should jump, and if I tell you to drop on your knees and stick your tongue out, that’s exactly what you must do. Getting the picture now?”
“Is that…so?” A hum answers your question. “Very well.”
Amber irises harden below knitted eyebrows, their transparent warmth giving way to opaque desire as he watches you approach with steady strides, his cock stiffening in his pants from the sharp intonation of your heels alone.
Something has shifted within you, though he can’t pinpoint exactly what. It’s like he sees you for the first time, confidence emanating from your very being as you drop off your jacket and gracefully sink on the floor before him, pleated skirt pooling around your bent knees—cherry lips licked together as your hands trail up his slacks and undo his belt, zipper next.
Is this really happening? Was it really that easy?
“Could you lift your hips, please?” You ask demurely, in the same considerate way you’d offer to refill his cup every morning.
A moment passes before Suguru obliges, part of him failing to separate fantasy from reality. He’s dreamed about this so many times that if it weren't for the soft palms rubbing up and down against his thighs, he’d be pinching himself awake. But you are definitely real, and you’re definitely there, and despite his conscience screaming that this is all wrong, he doesn’t let a future regret hold him back.
Shimmying out of both underwear and pants, Suguru’s cock springs free, already hard and twitching in anticipation, its slight curve pointing at your agape mouth. Your warm breath sends tingles up his spine as you inch closer, your lips rounding and then puckering hard around the fat tip. It's almost enough for him to lose composure, kissing his teeth when he feels your tongue drag a teasing circle on the underside of his shaft, wet and hot and far more skilled than he's ever imagined.
You let go before any praise evades Suguru, studying his lustful expression with a complacent smile that ends up rubbing him the wrong way. How many smiles have you offered Satoru while looking up at him like that? How many times have you practiced your technique on him to hone it to perfection? How many laughs have the two of you shared at Suguru's expense, knowing he's hopelessly wrapped around your dainty little finger?
Quick to wipe the hubris from your face, he takes hold of his cock and delivers a derogatory smack across your cheek.
"Test my patience one more time, and you'll be crawling out of here." His voice retains its smoothness even as he rubs the leaky slit against your lips, smearing a thin coat of glossy precum before he pushes his way back inside. "Better give me a good reason why I should keep an ungrateful slut like you around."
Suguru takes his time to explore your mouth, mapping out the wet cavern in its entirety. Your teeth are tucked behind your lips, their gentle firmness complementing the expert strokes laid by your tongue. Your cheeks hollow to accommodate him, air sucked and drool wetting his throbbing cock, some of it trickling to your chin. It's an extremely tight fit that grows tighter with every inch he stuffs you with, hitting the back of your throat long before he's wholly sheathed.
"Fuck." His head tips back in pure bliss. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”
Doe eyes flick up, their lecherous innocence holding him captive. He thought he'd forsaken all affection held for you, yet his heart begs to differ, lurching at the sight of your bare knees bruising against the polished marble.
He's tempted to call it quits and pull you to his lap, praying that the sweet words piling in his brain seep into your ears like poetry and register as an apology. That, somehow, you forgive the selfish arms cradling you and excuse the greedy lips drinking from your mouth as if it were a chalice; that you allow a heathen like him to express his reverence with deep thrusts and profound pleasure that will make you worship him as much as he longs to worship you, names tangling in a breathless mantra.
He's about to do just that when suddenly he's reminded of how moments ago you were locking lips with his best friend in front of a live audience, and the resentment within him swells anew, expanding like a black hole set on devouring him. He shouldn't hope for more, because you won't be coming back for more. After tonight ends, you'll go running back to Satoru, and he'll be lucky if his attorney's license doesn’t get revoked.
So much for being a role model.
Might as well enjoy himself while it lasts.
Brushing the sticky strands of hair away from your face, Suguru pulls them into a makeshift ponytail that he uses as leverage to drive himself in deeper, letting out a stuttered groan once he bottoms out. Tears well in your eyes as he holds you completely still, heavy lashes blinking rapidly to filter them out.
"Lookin' so pretty with my cock in your mouth." Suguru rasps in a candied tone, his thumb rubbing against the apple of your cheek with tenderness before he forces your head to bob back and forth on his length. "Wonder what Satoru would say if he saw you like this. Perhaps we should call him in, mm ? Have him see what good that little mouth is when it's all plugged and can't talk back. Maybe he'll want to take turns using it. Maybe you’ll walk outta here with a bonus. My capable—ngh—assistant promoted to office slut."
There’s no way for you to respond. Even if he pulls back this instant, the wit he fell in love with will still be gone. Right now, you’re nothing more than a hole for him to take out his frustrations—no better than an average whore choking on dick.
The party music continues to blare strong in the background, your soft gagging barely enough to mute the rounds of applause that still reverberate in his gauged ears—so he fucks your face faster and harder, his hips slamming forward in tandem with the mean fingers gripping your skull, each thrust producing a sound more sinful than the one before.
He’s hellbent on erasing that kiss from his memory, keen on replacing his friend’s taste with that of his cum, and he’d be damned if he didn’t feel amazing in the process, the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your jaw purely addictive.
And when he catches you rubbing your thighs together, he almost busts on the spot.
“You—hah—you really don’t care who it is, do you? Whether it’s me or him,” Suguru stammers, his tone whinier than he’d hoped. “As long as there’s cock in your mouth, you’re satisfied, aren’t you? Be honest; you aren’t even doing it for the job. You just get off on being used.”
He’s slowed down enough for the pleasurable vibrations on his cock to be felt, your eyes screwed shut with a hand lost between layers of skirt, searching for some sort of relief—relief he decides you don’t deserve.
“Ah-ah-ah! Who said you could cum, hm ?” Suguru chastises you by yanking you off his cock, a string of saliva chasing after your jaw as you stumble backward. “Told you to give me a reason not to fire you, and you did what exactly?” He tilts his head curiously. “That’s what I thought. Absolutely nothing. Not even worth the trouble.”
“W-wait!”
Before he has the chance to leave you high and dry on the floor, you scramble across your garments and tug at his pants in a pathetic attempt to get him to sit back down. He indulges. Not like he was serious about leaving anyway.
Your palm wraps around the base of his cock as you lean closer, licking a sloppy stripe from the base to his tip, and then all the way down again, sucking one of his balls into your mouth while simultaneously jerking him off.
“Fuck, you’re nasty.” Suguru breathes out, grabbing at the arms of his chair—his hips bucking into your palm. “Such a nasty little slut. Must really want this cock, huh? Come on. Show me how much you want this.”
Your eyes shine as though he praised you, and this time, you hold nothing back. You moan like you’re the one who derives pleasure, humming and even mewling as you switch from one ball to the other, your nose nuzzling to his warmth.
You pump him without a break, furiously rotating your palm over his cock head and squeezing right below with a ring shaped by your thumb and forefinger. Only he knows how he manages to hold back, pleasure so dizzying that his head spins, rearranging the furniture in the room.
“Th-that’s enough.” He voices amidst a broken moan, gently prying your wrist away—your mouth unlatching soon after.
Everything falls back into order as Suguru provides you both a much-needed reprieve, which you spend soaking in each other’s expressions. Dark strands of hair have fallen from his bun, clear beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. The shadows cast by the blinds conceal his flushed complexion, whereas the contrasting light exposes yours. Your chest heaves with every labored breath you take, mascara smudged beneath your eyes, and lipstick transferred from your lips to his cock, painting the pink tip scarlet red.
You look utterly debauched, but it’s not enough for him to call it a day. He wants more of you on him and more of him on you—more evidence that tonight wasn’t a figment of his imagination, taking place in the men’s room in between insufferable business meetings. Rather than keeping things a secret, he wants the whole world to know what transpired behind the closed doors of his office, and that sparks an idea.
He needs to put more of him in you.
With a small smile playing on his lips, Suguru helps you up, steadying you against his arms until you're able to stand on your own. You thank him with a hoarse voice and wobble on your heels as you're made to follow him to his desk, assuming position without him needing to speak a single command. You bend over the hard surface like you did the previous day and all the days before that, except your skirt's now rolled well over your thighs, and nothing obscures his view of your panties.
“How eager,” Suguru murmurs as he caresses the curve of your bare ass down to your clothed cunt, parting with a sigh when his pointer traces over the drenched fabric and prods it into your slit. “So wet from sucking my dick? Sure you weren’t thinking of someone else?”
“N-no.”
“No?” A smirk rings in his tone. “You don’t sound too sure.”
“Y-yes. I mean, n-no—oh fuck, r-right there!”
Your hips push back against Suguru’s hand, grinding against the long fingers that tug your panties to the side and slip into your wet hole.
He lazily works you open, each thrust concluding with his fingertips curling right into your sweet spot, coaxing soft whimpers to spill from your lips.
He pulls out once he feels you're sufficiently stretched, taking a second to admire the thin essence that dribbles down his digits before he uses it to lather up his cock, fighting back moans of his own whilst fisting himself to the lewd sight of his assistant offering herself to him.
Under different circumstances, he would've taken things slow. Under different circumstances, you’d be threading your fingers through his hair and sitting where you could comfortably watch him disappear between your thighs. You'd call out his name, and he'd lap at your juices until you're unable to hold yourself from cumming all over his face. Only then would he pepper your trembling thighs with kisses and tell you how well you did for him—what a good girl you are; his good girl.
“Doesn’t matter.” Suguru says for himself to hear, and it really doesn’t. Those ideal circumstances he dreams about are a thing of the past.
With a firm hand pressing on your back, he straightens you against the desk and runs his swollen cock head through your folds, voice laden with desire when he whispers, “Let’s see whose name you moan now, mm? ”
His thoughts hush as soon as his girth catches into the tight entrance of your cunt—a sigh gritted through his teeth as he finally sinks in.
He gives you a second to adjust, when in reality, it's him who needs the breather. All the longing and desire, the frustration and despair that'd been pooling in him for the past few weeks, culminate in this one perfect moment where your velvet walls hug his throbbing length, constricting around every inch he feeds inside you.
It's cathartic.
He remains breathing through his nose for a good while, too scared to open his mouth, lest he say something embarrassing enough to want to smack his head with the silver name plate on his desk right after. He's aware of how ridiculous it'd sound if he suddenly blurted out that he loves you, yet the warm feeling coursing through his veins can only be described as such.
Luckily, his final choice of words ends up being far more sensible.
“S-so fucking tight—”
“For a whore?” You interrupt, your droopy head lifting from over your slumped shoulders to bestow him with yet another winsome smile. God, you’re pretty.
“Never called you a whore.” Suguru's lips crack into a smirk of their own, while his fingers knead the fat of your ass, spreading your cheeks for him to see the point where you connect. A pearly ring has formed at the base of his cock from your fluids combined, his balls snugly squished between your hips. God, this is so hot.
His gaze shifts away. If he keeps looking, he just might cum without getting to even fuck you properly.
“You didn’t? My bad. Must have been someone else.”
"Aren't you cheeky?" A quiet chuckle rumbles in his chest, escalating into a loud groan as his hips pull back and jerk forward in a thrust that knocks both the wind and smugness out of you, the recoil causing your body to jiggle against the desk. "That fucking audacity of yours is what got you in this place to begin with."
You try to say something that he doesn't care to hear, muting your words with a sharp thwack across your ass. You whimper in response, clenching so hard around him that he repeats the motion on the other cheek for good measure, your pathetic whines going straight to his cock. It's scary how much he enjoys this.
"Talking about other men," Suguru begins his recital of your crimes, his hips rutting in time with the smacks inflicted on your reddening flesh. "Accepting gifts and whatnot, letting yourself be paraded around like a fucking trophy"—the hardest slap yet—"guess that really makes you a whore."
Your body doesn’t know how to react, whether to moan from the pain or cry from the pleasure, with your upper half squirming and your lower half stilled against him, taking everything he gives you without complaint.
He pounds into you like an animal, wrapping strong arms around your waist to bring you closer, his cock barely withdrawing before being slapped back inside, fucking straight into your pulsing core.
“D-don’t worry.” Suguru sounds delirious when he talks, with more and more ebony locks cascading from his disheveled bun down his face and shoulders. “We’re gonna fix that, mm? Gonna be mine from now on. Mine to kiss." His weight is held against your body as he leans forward, large frame dwarfing you as he plants his lips on your nape. “Mine to touch,” his arms squeeze even harder, “and—ngh, all mine to fuck. My. Fucking. Assistant.” He growls, punctuating every word with another thrust.
Suguru feels himself nearing his release, his balls tightening the longer your pussy grips him, until a knock on the door causes the sweat on his body to go cold and forces him to sober up.
“Hello? Is anyone in there?”
With quick reflexes, Suguru slaps a hand on your mouth, concentrating every bit of his willpower on figuring out the best course of action, all the while the knob rattles at Nanami's attempts to break into the room, complementary pangs echoing against the wood.
“I just need my coat; open up!”
Whatever took over Suguru seems to have vanished into thin air, leaving him to fend for himself. It’s only then that the severity of the situation becomes apparent. Not only did he coerce his assistant to fuck him, but he did so at a company event where reporters from every major news agency have gathered for a chance to dig up dirt on the Gojos. If word gets out, they're all done for. Suguru, Satoru, the company—every person’s livelihood that depends on the Gojo name will go to waste.
He's hit rock bottom, drowning in self-deprecation, when your fingers curl around his hand and drag it away from your mouth, your thumb squeezing the inside of his palm in a motion that compels him to trust you.
"Manager Nanami?” Your voice sounds so worn out that it's barely recognizable, but it's good. It makes your next sentence more believable. "I'm so sorry for the holdup, but I wasn't feeling too well. Could you, um, give me five to ten more minutes? I promise to bring your coat out myself."
For what feels like an eternity, silence reigns both inside and outside the room, the two of you holding your breaths while the man on the other side of the door decides your fate.
“Fine.” Nanami finally speaks. “Please don’t take too long. I have a train to catch."
"Thank you so much!" You sigh in relief, your forehead pressing forward against the furniture.
A few moments pass before Suguru braces himself to talk, feeling too flustered to let relief wash over him just yet. "Why did you do that? Why would you—"
"Because I'm your assistant." Only half of your smile is visible from that angle, yet it somehow appears more genuine than the previous ones. "You said it yourself. An assistant should be loyal to the one who hired her. It's my duty to look after you."
Your words make Suguru come face-to-face with a realization that, for the longest time, he's conveniently ignored. You aren't equals. You never were. No matter how hard he's tried to bridge the gap between you, it's still there, paralleling the one between him and Satoru, except in both cases, the sore loser remains no one but himself.
"Now, let's hurry up." Your ass rubs impatiently against his pelvis, reminding him that his cock is still snuggled in your cunt. "We don't have much time."
Postponing soul-searching for as long as he can, Suguru picks himself up and slips a hand between your thighs, easily spotting the neglected nub that throbs above your abused pussy lips.
His thumb swipes over your clit, testing a combination of short circles and light flicks that have you seesawing back and forth between his hand and hips, soft moans of pleasure playing like music in his ears. He much prefers them to your sobs.
"F-feels so good, ahh."
"Such a good girl. Learned her lesson, hm?" He hums, lusciously massaging your insides with his cock, his pace far more forgiving.
He gets to relish everything this time. From the intimate way you hold onto his free hand while pushing back to meet his thrusts, to the stuttered Mr. Geto's that complement your pretty whimpers. He feels himself burning up, the heat from your core circuiting his own body and permeating the deepest parts of his soul. He's drunk on you, feeling more heady when inhaling your perfume than he did sipping champagne all night long.
"Mr. Geto, I'm gonna—" The rest of your sentence is cut off, sharp nails digging into his flesh while your shoulders tense up.
"Gonna cum, sweetheart?" Suguru asks, adrenaline rushing to his thick cock that insists on kissing your cervix while his fingers continuously assault the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "Go ahead. My pretty assistant worked hard for it, didn't she? Proved how much she—f-fuck, she deserves her boss' dick. Cum on this dick, baby. Wanna feel you cum all over me."
"Please, Mr. Geto, pleasepleaseplease , right there, ahhh , please fuck me." Your begging has him losing his mind, the dam between his thoughts and his tongue breaking as he goes on to praise your very existence, no filter whatsoever.
"You were worth the wait. Wanted to do this since d-day one," Suguru pants out, shaking his head with a faint smile. "No, even longer than that. Been wanting you since I saw your picture, fuck—" He bites his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. "Feels like I've been waiting on you forever."
His confession overlaps with your release, your walls spasming and contracting while the rest of your body goes limp. Suguru knows he won't last much longer, his pace growing sloppier by the minute as the aftershocks of your bliss reel him in, sculpted abs clenching in sync with his heavy balls until his hips come to a complete stutter, ropes upon ropes of his creamy seedy sputtering into your warm cunt.
A string of curses is unleashed as he groans your name, and he's still shuddering when he pulls out, staring wide-eyed at the mess he made. His cum flows out of your hole in a steady stream, trickling down your thighs as if taunting him to plug it back in. He doesn't think he's ever finished this hard in his life, and yet his cock insists on twitching even in the comfort of his palm.
Mesmerized by the sight of your spent pussy squirting out your shared fluids, Suguru makes no real effort to dress himself until his eyes spot the sparse drops that have dribbled from his weeping tip to the carpet below, and panic rings in his head like an alarm.
Frantically, he scans the dimly lit room for some paper—a cloth or a towel; anything that'd help him clean up—only to be struck with disappointment. He keeps none of these items around, and while he's mostly proactive about emergencies, he doubts plowing his assistant qualifies as one.
He's off to find the light switch (not without awkwardly tripping in his pants like a penguin first) when you sneak up behind him, your outfit put back together, with a tissue hanging from your open fingers.
"Whores always clean after themselves." You smile sweetly as Suguru accepts the offering.
The dark-haired man crouches to pick up his pants after wiping his cock clean. A smirk is plastered on his face as he tucks himself back into his underwear and crumples the used paper into a ball that gets tossed in the bin beside him.
"Gonna keep holding that against me?" He asks once he's gone back to looking somewhat presentable.
"Hmm, probably until Monday." Your chuckle placates his heart, only to make it thrum against his chest a second later. "Unless...you don't mind speeding up the process."
Your eyes pierce through him, shining brighter than the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. He almost wishes the room were kept in darkness, for the sole reason that his surprise remains hidden, hope lumping in his throat.
"What are you suggesting?"
You clutch onto your jacket while pacing around the room, halting in front of the stacked bookshelves mounted on one of the four walls. Your head tilts slightly as you explore his collection of hardcovers and attempt to read the cursive characters on one of his certificates, your smile losing its vibrancy as you go back to facing him, your eyes focusing anywhere but his.
"Rather than neither of us doing anything special for the holidays," you finally speak, "how about we do nothing special for the holidays together?" You lick your lips together, cringing at the way your voice cracks over the last syllable. "Say, outside Meiji Memorial Museum around 6 p.m. tomorrow?"
Suguru catches himself holding his breath, nitpicking your words even when they leave no room for ambiguity. "Are you asking me out?"
Your head is held low as you nod. "I figured after what just happened, you might be interested."
The lump in his throat dissolves only to recur immediately after.
"What about Satoru?" He asks in a hushed tone, prepared for disappointment.
"Satoru is," a small smile creeps up, "he's the most amazing person I've ever met, and will probably meet in my entire life. But," you gnaw on your lips, briefly meeting his eyes, "I have a preference for dark-haired workaholics." He nearly disputes the color of his own hair, relying on the reflection in your eyes to confirm his identity.
"Is that how you see me?"
"That's how most people in the office see you. If you were to ask me, I'd add kind to the list. Generous. Warm. Sly," you giggle before whispering the next word, "sexy."
Heat rises to his cheeks as Suguru wordlessly gawks at you. To say he's taken aback is an understatement. Part of him feels so ecstatic that he could grow wings and fly off into the night sky, while another part wants him to fall at your feet and beg for forgiveness.
He's such an idiot. No, more than an idiot, he is an irredeemable bastard who deserves none of your sympathy after what he did, and yet you don't seem to blame him one bit. If anything, you gaze at him with more affection than you've ever shown to either him or Satoru, affection that obliterates any doubt.
It's him. For once, and for all, and against all odds, it's him who gets to stand under the mistletoe beside you.
"If you're gonna reject me, please do it now." You squint in the cutest way imaginable. "I don't want to ruin my make-up."
Suguru smiles, allowing himself to openly fawn over your concerned expression.
"I'm afraid it's too late for that. Might wanna," he says, vaguely gesturing at your face.
Your knuckles turn black after rubbing below your eyes. Horrified, you dig another tissue from your pocket, hurriedly scrubbing wherever you deem necessary. "Better now?"
"I'd still dash straight to the elevator if I were you." Suguru chuckles at the face you make, taking a step forward. He runs his tongue along his lips, his voice reduced to a purr when he speaks. "You're right. Don't think I can wait until Monday to see you again." The proximity between your heads begs to be nullified, and he's made up his mind. He can't afford to lose you. Not as an assistant, and certainly not as a woman. He's shameless like that.
Bringing his palm to your cheek, Suguru pulls you toward him, planting a soft peck on your lips that tastes like finally.
By the time he draws away, you're both smiling—breathless, despite the kiss lasting less than a second. His hand glides from your neck to the curve of your shoulder, caressing tenderly, while yours rises to his forehead, having mustered enough courage to tuck the the loose strands of hair behind his ear.
"I should probably go first." Your announcement prickles his heart like a thorn. Walking into this room, he'd braced himself for losing you, yet now he can't even stomach the idea of spending a minute without you. "Don't want Manager Nanami to lose his train."
Not being left with much of a choice on the matter, Suguru nods, sighing softly as he watches you grab Nanami's coat and loop it around your arm, heading for the door. Your goodbye is postponed as you turn around with a jewelry-sized box in hand, the same item you were caught fumbling with when he entered the room earlier.
"This is from Satoru." You explain. "I don't know why or what's inside, but he said I should be the one who gives it to you."
When Suguru accepts it, you smile again and bow your head. "Merry Christmas, Suguru."
On second thought, he's so happy he could die.
Suguru is tinged red from head to toe as he sends you off with the same wish, undoing the silver ribbon that holds the box together after the door closes behind you. It's too small to contain an explosive mechanism, that's for sure, but he doesn't hear much of any rattling as he shakes its contents. His confusion grows tenfold once he lifts the lid and is greeted by the folded piece of paper within.
Unfolding it, the note reads a single sentence whose meaning registers in waves that crash over him along with the memories of the past month, the truths and the lies debunked with every repetition of those seven pesky little words.
Now you know what heaven tastes like.
A/N: I know what y'all wondering, and yes. Nanami did win the competition. Oh, and Satoru totally didn't plot behind the scenes for Suguru to make the first move. totally.
Hope you enjoyed this, and I'd love to hear your thoughts, since this is my first time writing for Suguru.
Disclaimer: He did nothing wrong and he remains a pookie.
Somehow.
#geto suguru#geto x reader#gojo x reader#geto smut#jjk geto#getou suguru#getou suguru x reader#getou x reader#getou smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#gojo satoru
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Yeah, as accomplished and impressive as the mc is, the mc is far from a Mary Sue/Gary Stu. Literally, the scene with V where they try to cook? I cringed when I heard their plans for it (but trying new things is crucial to being good at them). Not to mention other scenes just showing the unbalanced lifestyle (I found Elias asking if the mc had their credit cards to be particularly hilarious) and things they lack. It's not like the mc reaches and touches an extracurricular, and whoops, Bam, Magnus Carlson!
They've also suffered not insignificantly (I can't possibly imagine losing a parent at that young of an age, let alone one you're close to.) And that nosebleed thing must've been a hell of a scare. Also - your reflection looking like that (as in non human or supernatural) would be terrifying. My life isn't notably bad, certainly not all sunshine and rainbows, but if I was offered to become mc and go through all that they will or even all that they have?
Yeah, I think I'll pass. I also think some of it might be people thinking the mc is completely effortless - which I have no idea where they got that - but it's evident while they aren't average in intelligence, they busted their ass off even if they try to play it laidback style. They got the best tutors in the world from a very young age - but that also meant they were using those resources constantly and studying. Not to mention, I think somewhere it's mentioned how mc's time was basically entirely split between studying, extracurriculars, and volunteering.
They're not a god. Just a mortal who had very fortunate resources who worked very, very hard with those resources. Hell, take a normal person with mid resources and have them use that schedule of studying, extracurriculars, and volunteering, and I'd bet they would turn out pretty damn accomplished/impressive too, even if they're not as good as the mc. It's what Richard Feymann said - you can get a normal person to understand quantum physics. They just have to study it well, hard, and for a while.
Yeah, the mc is rich and have quite the privilege, but that doesn't mean they didn't work hard for it and also lost some things in the trade off (mc might know how to cook if they weren't studying "all" the time and took the time to learn, for example)
Mc kind of reminds me of what's referred to as a glass cannon - exceptionally good at one or a few things, but at the severe (and probably unworthy) detriment of being very bad at others. Does mc even know what FAFSA is?
Also, the literal fatal flaw? An actual list? And mc can be as stupid (wisdom stat, not intelligence) and just party all the time.
If anons were going to pick on a character for being "too perfect" then M almost makes more sense. 10 languages, God knows how many instruments, in a good position in HoS, is probably crushing all of their classes, and is majoring in philosophy which can get wildly difficult now and again before toning back down (Nietzche, Kant, and Hegel, probably). Oh, they're also an RA. They to me seem more insane than mc does, even a mc who is designed to be crazy like vocal lessons, two sports, robotics, and debate club, with no burnout. And yet, they are perfectly flawed.
The mc just worked exceptionally hard, is clever, and had literally the best possible resources to get the most bang for their (or rather, Elias's) buck. I think about anyone would - at least - do very well in academia and extracirriculars if they had the best tutors in the world training them in those respective areas from a very young age.
this.
#there are people who have all the resources but make zero efforts#MC is not one of them#if: the ballad of the young gods#interactive fiction#interactive novel#interactive story#twine wip
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Game Design and Porn Pt. 1
or, How To Fuck Up The Best Intrinsic Reward Ever
Hi, I'm Leo G, veteran pervert. One time while chatting in a server exclusively made of porn artists, I brought up the game design of a porn game I enjoyed. One of them laughed, saying "Who cares, it's just a porn game?" Being unwell, I never let this go. Since then, I have played many adult games and took each one as serious products made by professionals. Fast forward to today, and the demo for my porn game, Joker's Trip, is nearing completion. I also have some sci-fi erotica you should check out.
So you wanna make a porn game. You heard they make money, and hey what’s more fun than making a video game AND porn? But you don’t know where to begin! Well don’t worry, Leo’s got you covered. We’re gonna walk through the line of thinking you should have when designing your porn game. There's gonna be at least three parts to this, with part 1 focusing on how to reward your player.
Define "porn game" for me, Leo.
There are porn games, and then games with porn in them. A porn game is a game where you won’t last 5 minutes, where everything exists solely to meet and, subsequently, fuck. A game with porn in it is a game where everything exists for the purpose of the game, and also, you fuck. Fate Stay Night, for example, is a VN with a story that just so happens to have some CGs where the protagonist rails Saber, but is mainly about Shirou and the Holy Grail War. Much like how I would call Castlevania a game with horror in it, but not a horror game.
Porn games are a lot like horror games. They both get a bad rap for being cheap to make, appealing to base instincts, and generally being low quality. They're also both not actual genres of games, but genres of content. Think about it, if I asked you what a horror game is, you'd say a game that's scary. But what's the actual game part? The unfortunate answer would most likely be "walking sim," but there are a lot of examples that are FPSes, puzzles, driving sims, platformers, deck builders, the list goes on.
The most common genres of game I see for porn games these days are by far RPG Maker RPGs and VNs. I won’t be talking about VNs because they’re closer to writing than game design, which isn’t a flaw but a feature. What used to be everywhere, in days of old, were breakout games, where the more bricks and levels were cleared, the more of the sexy image would be revealed in the background. Other arcadey type deals like shoot ‘em ups and mahjong were also around, and had a similar “strip ‘em down until you have sex” gameplay loop.
Okay, so what’s an intrinsic reward?
There’s intrinsic rewards, and there're extrinsic rewards. Extrinsic rewards, generally, are the number go up rewards. Things that make your character stronger, or give you more resources to buy new gear or whatever. Intrinsic rewards in games can cover a large swathe of things. It can be the feeling of satisfaction of completing a puzzle, a piece of lore or world building, or a new dialogue option with a character you want to fuck.
I like fucking characters, are we talking about porn now?
Yes! I’m of the opinion that you literally can’t make a better intrinsic reward than pornography. On top of setting the tone for the entirety of the game., at its best it can add to a story, add to someone’s character development, or be a beautiful piece of art to look at. AND you can jack off to it! Unfortunately, that’s at its best. Let’s talk about how porn is delivered in a theoretical RPG porn game. (As a head’s up, there will be talk of “bad end” scenes, but this is under the assumption that the player is the one consenting.)
So you’re playing an RPG and get into a fight. Maybe you were underleveled or too cumbrained to remember to buy healing potions. Then your HP goes to zero, and instead of going back to the title screen, you’re getting fucked by orcs. That’s right, let’s talk about Game Over CGs.
You get to watch porn when you lose?
To someone making a porn game with a battle system, this delivery method makes sense. The characters in this world are driven primarily by lust, this is just the obvious conclusion. And it doesn’t even have to be non-consensual! Games like Future Fragments show that it can be presented as a sexy inconvenience rather than anything uncomfortable for the player or our hero. Game Over CGs even have the benefit of softening the blow of defeat, by giving the player a chance to reflect on their defeat and jerk off. Even better if losing a fight isn’t lost progress, but rather a bump in the road. However, there’s a problem here. The player is a dog, and we’re rewarding bad behavior.
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The porn is an intrinsic reward, so why are we giving it to the player for losing? Incentivizing losing on purpose isn’t just bad game design, but a waste of time. And to that end, a lot of porn games try to give solutions to this. One being a kill button on the keyboard or a skill that instantly KOs our hero to get to the lose screen faster. What might seem like a convenience is really just expediting failure.
What it says is that the gameplay doesn’t actually matter. You’re just here for the porn, right? In that case there’s plenty of places I can go to see a chick with huge knockers get railed by an orc, with the added bonus of not having to play forgettable and mid turn based combat!
Another solution I’ve seen is the game outright telling you, “hey don’t bother killing yourself to see the porn. Once you beat the game all of the scenes you missed will be unlocked!” At first this seems like a reasonable way to go about it, but it comes with another problem: your game better be fucking good to make me play through the entire thing before getting to see cock. Like I said earlier, porn at its best can reveal things about the world and drive character development. I uh. Just beat the game. I don’t care anymore. Showing me a scene that’s taken out of context by a factor of 5 hours or more isn’t what I’d call great game design or story telling. It’s also too little, too late.
What if we made the porn actual rewards?
Now we’re getting somewhere! Let’s make the reward…a reward! What if, every time the player beats a level, we get some porn? If we tie the CG to beating the boss, we’ll be tying the reward to game progression. That’s good right? So now, on top of the extrinsic rewards you’d normally get for beating a boss (a lot of EXP, better gear, opened areas) we also get that sweet dopamine rush of pornography! So we’re good, right?
There’s 1142 words left in this post, so I’m assuming no.
Well. It’s a start. It has the problem of predictability. If not handled properly, it comes off as lazy. As a game designer, one of your goals is to not constantly remind your player that they’re playing a video game. Get through the level, get porn. It feels a little too “mouse in a maze looking for cheese” for my taste. And much like the game over method, if the actual game itself is mid, the player will start to question if the reward is worth it, and might be afflicted with the worst condition a player could receive: boredom.
Of course there are exceptions. In puzzle or arcade type games where you don’t get extrinsic rewards, giving the player porn as another form of reward per level or whatever is perfectly reasonable (though it does have the issue of being predictable.) This is a perfectly good way of doing it if your game is short, or if the game is, y’know, good and fun to play. Bad Color’s game, Heroine Conquest, is a level based puzzle game with porn as the reward, but only when you do good. Combining the actual challenge of mastering the game, with a genuinely unique game loop makes for a feeling of accomplishment when beating a level. Pair that up with a sex cutscene, and the dopamine rush will hit.
So! Let’s combine giving the player a power trip, with a less rigid structure for giving the player porn. Instead of tying the porn to purely progression gates, let’s tie it to the progression.
Plot milestones
In Third Crisis, sex scenes are peppered throughout the regular game’s plot, starting with some lesbian bondage before introducing the protagonist, who goes through a tutorial before having their own horny encounters. It’s not just given when you win or lose, but is a natural part of the game. Beating bosses, losing to enemies, and exploring dialogue options in sidequests all lead to unlocking new CGs.
Now what’s nice about that, is that the sex isn’t placed somewhere extremely predictable. It isn’t just a reward for beating The Boss Of Forest Zone, Now Go To Ice Zone And Beat The Ice Boss For More Cock. Because that’s the biggest issue of predictable rewards, you know you’re not getting anything until that checkpoint, which will make the player weigh whether or not it’s even worth continuing. This is fine, again, for an arcade type game, not an RPG or adventure game. By sprinkling sex throughout the plot itself, the player will not only want to progress, but their curiosity will have them wondering “what else is out there?”
Rewarding exploration
By putting sex scenes behind optional side quests or encounters, the dog that is the player will scour every single corner of the map, and leave no pixel unturned. Personally, that’s more exciting to me than what you’ll get in the main progression route. In Future Fragments the player can find their rival Faye in sexual situations if they explore the map enough. These are completely optional, and don’t give any direct rewards like more HP or an item, but they’re by far what motivates me to explore the maps as thoroughly as possible, more so than the plot macguffins the game is named after!
So now the player is excited. Sex can happen anywhere. Maybe that daunting off road path with stronger monsters isn’t just hiding a secret, but a sexy secret! They’ll be more likely to venture down those optional paths you painstakingly made.
If we’re using sex in game overs, boss fights, and just randos, why not put it everywhere?
So now I want to talk about the concept of a “sex stat”. It’s not a bad idea! Say, the higher the player’s sex stat is, the more opportunities you unlock for fucking. It could even be tied to the player character’s personality, and affect the story! Instead of using a sword and shield, they’ll end any conflict with sass and sex. They open their eyes to the horny world around them and stop being a hero, and instead become a succubus, and the ending is a massive cum filled orgy.
That sounds excessive
Yeah, it does, doesn’t it.
I’m not a fan of “corruption” systems in porn games. Corruption as a kink is totally fine, and having it be a part of the story lets you incorporate more sexuality into the plot. But as I alluded to, it snowballs pretty fast (and I’m not talking about spitting in someone’s mouth). It ends up being like a cheat code, where you’re bypassing parts of the game for no cost. It stops being a reward, it stops being unexpected, and it stops it from being sexy.
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Wait, what? Stops being sexy? What’s not sexy about a succubus orgy?
Alright, listen, we gotta rein it in for a minute. This isn’t so much about game design as it is about writing erotica, but if you have a world where everyone’s fucking and sucking 24/7, there’s no contrast to make what would normally be a hot taboo a hot taboo. If everybody’s naked, nobody’s naked. The aforementioned snowball effect of a corruption system can be seen if you play literally any game that has one. It won’t take long to not have to engage with any combat or adventuring system if you can just press the “Submit to the big dick warlock” button and watch porn to progress.
Which, now that I said that, is exactly the problem. Imagine any other rpg you’ve ever played. Now imagine if every encounter and dialogue option had an option to just watch a short cutscene to skip the encounter. That would suck ass, right? Literally no difference here.
It would. Hey, I’m sort of lost now.
Don’t worry, we’re wrapping this up.
So what did we learn? We learned game over CGs have a critical design flaw that shouldn’t be relied on. We learned that predictable rewards can lead to boredom. We learned to keep sex as a reward and not devalue it.
To summarize, here’s a neat trick to know where to put your porn scenes.
”Would I put an Xbox Live achievement here?”
It’s that easy. “Lose to Goblins for the first time,” that’s an achievement. “Beat orc commander,” that’s an achievement. “Find Hubert the Magical Dickhead,” that’s an achievement. Using that as a guideline is foolproof. Almost.
This sounds like it’d take a lot of resources
It sure does! But don’t worry. I’ll cover that in the next post talking all about how to deal with the resource management of a porn game.
(Shoutout to Taylor, my guy for editing!)
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A Story Done Right
Kill Bill, The Princess Bride, Blue-Eyed Samurai, Wrath of Khan. Our media is saturated with revenge stories. Even children's tales often have revenge as a sweeping premise (e.g., the countless Star Wars villains as a modern example, but older tales such as Cinderella were even more rife with vindictive messages). And to be honest, I have never cared for this plot type.
Revenge stories are usually violent, merciless, myopic, and pretty disregarding of 'collateral' losses. Not all, but most lack any type of interesting moral symbology and substitute dynamic storylines and complex character development in lieu of exciting action scenes and a prosaic fixation on bloodshed. There are certainly exceptions to this, many of the titles I listed above actually have a lot of great things going for them. But I would say that these qualities are in spite of their focus on revenge and not because of it.
And there are an endless number of animes, movies, books, and other stories based on revenge that simply do not appeal to me (not judging other people if they like violent action media, just not my personal taste). Most of the time, I am just left feeling empty at the end, like Neo after volume 9.
But there is one exception to this theme. One revenge story that leaves me feeling whole, not empty. From the banner image, I think it is pretty obvious which story it is. This is my own highly subjective opinion, but I truly believe that the fight with Adam represents the perfect revenge story. And here is my reasoning.
Revenge is Not The Hero's Purpose
In too many stories, the premise begins with douchebag 'X' killing damsel 'Y', leading to hero 'Z' killing a lot of henchmen and blowing up a lot of buildings all for the singular purpose of making Mr. X pay. Once they achieve this purpose, they look around aimlessly before wandering off to have a milkshake or play golf or something. Yeah well, this story does not do this. Killing Adam was never the objective for Blake and Yang, because they have actual goals that involve saving people and not just executing some vendetta.
Don't get me wrong. I love redemption stories, I find them so much more satisfying, especially when the character in question has to struggle to overcome the gravity of what they have done (note: a redemption arc does not mean instant forgiveness, it might never end with actual for absolution for what they have done). I love Emerald's story and think it has a lot of interesting twists that it can take. But there are some characters who are just too far gone to save. And Adam fits that perfectly.
He has a tragic backstory and I truly pity him. But he is also an abusive, murdering shitlord who manipulated and groomed Blake (I wouldn't be surprised if he physically or sexually abused her, which is somewhat implied by her frequently defensive body posture, but is not definite). He kills out of spite and represents Yang's demon, who she could have become. It was cathartic to watch him fall, but I am ever so grateful that his demise was not the purpose of Blake and Yang. Because killing him out of spite for what he did to them would not be much different than the way he lashed out at others for the traumas that he has endured. Some might call it justice, but justice and revenge are two sides of the same coin and the edges between them can be blurry.
The point is, Yang and Blake are so much more than Adam. They killed him out of necessity, not out of hate.
They Are Set on the Future
As I mentioned, I often feel empty at the end of a revenge story. When the villain lies dead within a pool of their own blood and the hero has achieved everything they sought to accomplish, what more is there really? Often, I feel like the story has reached its ending without really achieving anything of note. Often, without really making the world a better place. A plot about revenge is not the same as one about taking someone down to save other people. The former is what Adam wanted and it would have made the world a worse place. But Yang and Blake are protectors. The fight was exhilarating and satisfying, but it ultimately humanized these characters whereas most revenge stories do the opposite, treating human life as cheap entertainment to be killed in the most 'epic' way possible.
But more important, the fight left me feeling excited about the future, rather than feeling burn out from seeing the villain die. Adam was fixated on the past. He was a character of the past. He represented Blake and Yang's trauma, their old demons and fears. He had no further place in their character arcs, because they had evolved into something so much more. Killing Adam was not the end of their story as it is in so many revenge plots. It was simply a new beginning. It felt whole and wholesome. Past, present, and future.
Because it is the People Who Matter
Ultimately, the fight was never about killing Adam. It was about bringing Yang and Blake together. About having them overcome the demons of their past. About the importance of mental health. About their individual traumas (abandonment issues & PTSD for Yang and Blake's fear of hurting others). About the challenges that LGBTQ+ people face in finding security in a hostile world. It was about these two, fucking amazing characters and the ineffably wondrous relationship that forms between them. One based on actual fucking support, equality, and love.
That is all I have on this right now. Hopefully, I did not offend too many people by criticizing typical revenge stories. But I have been wanting to talk about my love and appreciation of this scene for years. I know there have been so many more people who have discussed these same themes and points before, probably more adroitly than my rambling mess, but this is my rambling mess. Thanks for reading!
Random side trivia 1: Mandy Patinkin, the actor who played Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride, is famous for his iconic line, "Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." Mandy felt that the scene was symbolic of feelings towards the illness that took his father. But regarding revenge against people, he actually dislikes his iconic line and how it idolizes revenge.
Random side trivia 2: I love Jeff & Casey William songs and I just love BMBLY (except or that creepy line about the birds and butterflies knowing, wtf). But as an ecologist, I should note that bumblebees do not make honey. Jeff was thinking of European honey bees. Bumblees are cute, fuzzy, chunky super pollinators that live in the ground, in hollow plant stems, or other obscure spots and are either solitary or have very small hives. They virtually never bother people and are super pollinators, actually much better pollinators than honeybees (which are super awesome cool in their own right, but also highly invasive in the western hemisphere and hurt our native pollinators D: And yes, I cherry-picked the ugliest picture of one that I could find). Many bumblebees are endangered, just like our beloved Bumblebees. Save the bees! AND THE BEES!
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Synop: you and armin have to host the new years eve party this year, how fun could that be? (armin x black reader)
Word count 4k
Mentions of sex, but still a fluff/crack fic. the part 2 is at the bottom lmfao
sug says: ts is so silly LMFAO, if you’re trapped at a NYE party you don’t to be at, heres a good read!!
Why the fuck was it even an option to pick your house to throw the party?? You hated people. Even more so, you hated hearing drunk Eren cry to Mikasa about how sorry he is for the 8th fuck up of the week. Or Connie and Sasha scream singing Not Like Us since it came out as soon as any sort of liquor touched their lips. Or Annie's ass acting like her and Bert are too good to hang out with us. But won't stay at home when Reiner brings him out.
Why are we bringing no-home-training niggas into the house???
You thought to yourself, writing getting a bit messier as you pushed pen against paper. You were making a list for everything you and Armin would need to get done before everyone arrived around 6:30. It was easier to buy certain things on the day of (veggies for example) so your fridge isn't so packed. Not many places were open past 5 so you were trying to remember everything as 1pm rolled around.
You tapped the pen against the counter top as you scribbled what else the house will need. Extra napkins in case Connie conveniently forgets to bring something besides alcohol, Water bottles, set sticky notes out for when people bring food, the whole shabang.
Before you could voice how this was a lot and was driving you crazy, Armin was standing in front of you on the other side of the kitchen island with a nervous but curious smile. “Are you okay, y/n?” he asks, looking at the obvious annoyance on your face and the sound of pen scratching paper getting more aggressive by the minute.
You set the pen down, quickly turning to him with a smile. It’s not that you hated them, it’s just that you couldn’t leave once you were tired. It’s your house and they don’t exactly know when to leave. And on New Year's Eve? Hell, You knew they’d stay till damn near 4am. This was one of those holidays where nobody gave a fuck about alcohol poisoning. However, you care about your carpet and your nice couch.
“Yes baby, I’m fine.” You shuffle on your socks to slide around to the side of the counter to give your lovely boyfriend a fat kiss on the cheek. You hold his face in your palms, smiling softly. “Just a little stressed is all.”
Armin studied your face, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “A little?” He asked, placing his hands on your waist to pull you just a little closer. He knew you like the back of his hand and clearly something was up.
You scowl for a moment, trying to make sure he wasn’t dissing you. You watch his lips flatten for a moment as he quickly spoke up once more. “I can see it in your face, I’m here to help, not harm..” You knew that, but sometimes it was hard to remember that. Even more so forgetting to ask for help. Before you knew it, he hugged you gently, rubbing your lower back with warm hands.
You snake your arms around his shoulder, doodling hearts and stars against his back in return. “Just gotta get a lotta shit done..” You kiss his other cheek, seeing the smile creep onto his face and causing you to smile as well.
He nodded, hands sliding themselves up the underpart of your shirt. He continued to rub your back soothingly. “What else do you need me to do so far? I moved the card table into the basement with the extra chairs from the garage– I also made sure our car is in the garage so people can park off of the street as much as possible! I had to clean out some of the garage because–”
Before he could finish, you cut him off. “Because I don't want my house smelling like cigarettes or weed. ..Thank you sweetheart.” Now that was something you didn't have to ask for. Armin always tried to read your mind on what to do at least to take some weight off of your shoulders and you greatly appreciated it.
“I guess just get these few things from the store.. We need some extra decorations if you can stop by.. Dollar tree or something?” You let him go, turning to read the list aloud in case you were forgetting anything. I guess now would be the best time to send him out anyway.
“We just need a few balloons and I was going to get noise makers? I don’t want to pop confetti inside and its cold as fuck outside. I’m sure someone is gonna want to shoot a gun or make some kind of loud noise to start the year- Someone always does.” Last time it was Jean with the supervision of Marco considering he didn’t want any of the other drunks to do it. Jean could at least aim at the sky and not go overboard even with the liquor in his system.
You look down at the list, ripping the notepad paper in half to split groceries from to-dos. “Welch’s champagne if there’s any left, I don’t think one bottle is enough. Mikasa doesn’t drink much, Historia hardly drinks, Marco doesn’t drink too much either– But nobody wants to sit and drink pop all night. I like drinking it because it reminds me of being a kid– Dip for veggies! My God..” You quickly flipped the list of groceries over to write the kind on the back.
You don’t see him move, probably because your brain was moving a mile a minute, But you do hear the noise of the pantry open and close which causes you to look up and stop listing things aloud.
Armin slowly brings out extra napkins, forks, and paper plates that all read ‘2025’. Even themed in gold and black like the previous decorations you had bought right after Christmas. “I bought them on my way from work last friday– I knew you had a lot to do today so I wanted to try to think of anything I could get to help.” He placed the bags onto the counter, also setting down red solo cups since they held more than any flimsy styrofoam cups.
He gave you a sympathetic smile. “I also have the rest of those decorations you wanted, the streamers to go above the door?” He set everything out on the island in front of you.
You freeze for a moment before sliding on your socks over to him. You almost tackle your poor boyfriend, hugging him and kissing him all over his face. “You are my hero. I love you so much Armin Arlert you don’t understand..” You cup his face in your hands once more, kissing him as passionately as you could.
Genuinely you couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend. He always helped, whether you asked or not. He cleans, he works and makes money, he is incredibly intelligent, loyal.. What else could you ask for?
His face lit up at your reaction, lapis eyes quickly shutting and hesitantly placing his hands on your waist to pull you a little closer. You still made him so nervous. 3 years seemed long, but you had just moved in together around summertime last year. Your sudden acts of affection made him almost standoffish, Which was never on purpose! He just couldn’t help but get his words caught in his throat when it came to you.
You scratch at his undercut, pulling away to look at him happily. “I can set up decorations and shit while you go to the store. Thank you for always having my back baby..” You saw his woozy grin get even bigger, staring down at you with nothing less than love. You kiss his cheek for the final time, letting him go once more to set out the plates and napkins with the few you had bought.
“Alright, I’m going to take your car before I put that one in the driveway too, Is that okay–” He asked, moving to grab the keys that sat next to your purse. You were already standing on the counter, setting your blender on top of your cabinets for counter space. “Y/n!”
He quickly went over to you, hands hovering to help you down if you needed it. You began giggling, moving the veggie tray off of the top of the cabinets since it wasn't ever used until it was time for a party. “Armeeeeen I have it, Go to the store in my car!” You feel him lightly place his hands on your calves, helping you down anyway.
He kisses your temple, letting out a half sigh half chuckle before genuinely going to leave. “Okay, Okay. I love you, y/n!” He called as he slid on his shoes, putting his coat on as well.
“Love you most!” You wash off the veggie tray, setting it on the counter and beginning to write sticky notes for where crockpots and other items should go. Your cooler was already out for pop and the bottom drawer freezer was cleaned out for the stupid amount of liquor that would be brought. You kept the napkins on the island, taking the bag of decorations to the basement and going to set up.
Armin didn't come back till around three, shaking off the snow of his coat as you went out in pajamas to help grab all the bags. He filled the cooler with ice, watching you wash the veggies and cut them with a calmer look on your face. He smiled to himself, placing in the water bottles and case creme soda he bought for everyone. Everything you needed to do for the house was damn near done which gave you time to do your makeup and get dressed way before anyone got there.
“Do you mind moving some shit around in the basement? I cleaned the bathroom and put new hand soap in there but I think the couch needs to go against the wall and I have to cut these stupid–” You felt the irritation and anxiety to get everything done creep up your neck, sighing and placing the veggies in spare tupperware, splitting them up with walls of celery sticks so it wasn’t hard to place onto the tray.
“I got it, y/n. Play some music and take a deep breath..” He stood beside you, attempting to study the features on your face before you looked at him with an almost worn out expression. You were running yourself thin trying to do everything, but music would help the time go by faster.
“Sir yes sir,” You tease, seeing him shake his head with a small laugh before kissing your cheek and walking down to your furnished basement. You guys had a bar with cute little stools, a mounted TV, recliners and a dark brown u-shaped sofa. Armin made sure you got everything you wanted when you first moved in, slowly buying things with checks after the bills were paid.
He never let you pay for anything besides the few times you snatched the check at dinner before he could. Even then, He sent you money when the laundry needed done and your dryer was ass. Or leave his debit card on the TV stand for you to get groceries for the house, to fill up your tank. About 4 months of being moved in, your house was full of comfortable furniture, a new washer and dryer, a subwoofer, a PS5?
You were spoiled for sure, but he made sure you always got your way. It was hard enough getting you to relax and use your money on yourself since you won’t quit your job. [no shade, just knows he makes enough to take care of you.] So if you asked for things or mentioned you wanted something, he’d take care of it.
He made sure to rearrange the furniture for more space, leaving the card table near the adjacent corner of the bar so no one was too annoying to anyone watching the ball drop. However, most of the time when Armins friends came over, the TV had music blaring from it.
Everyone got there between 6:30 and 8 as assumed. You had made buffalo dip, letting everyone else figure out something different to bring a little before Christmas. Ymir and Historia were there right on time, Historia held cookies and cheesecake in hand while Ymir held a bottle of Everclear and a case of cherry coke.
Then came Mikasa and Eren around 6:45. Mikasa had made crab and lobster stuffed mushrooms, holding a casserole dish full of them. Eren had a huge charcuterie board full of different cheese, crackers, and lunch meat which was also greatly appreciated. Connie and Sasha came in around 7ish, obviously already pre-gaming with an already opened bottle of titos, bacardi, and shopping bags full of chips and store bought salsa and queso.
“Who’s ready to parrrtayyy??” Sasha yelled as she walked in, Connie cheering to pack her up which followed with everyone else cheering. They were definitely tipsy, but Connie looked stoned off his ass and Sasha’s first stop was gonna be the kitchen no matter what. You snickered, helping the two with their bags and pouring the queso into a smaller crockpot under your microwave so that it was warm.
Sasha picked at the celery on the tray before eyeing the dip and quickling going over to it. Connie stayed in the living room for a moment, saying what's up to everyone before going to make himself a plate and setting the liquor in the freezer for now. No one else had begun eating until the rest of the food got there, but Connie and Sasha made sure to stay huddled in the kitchen corner so your carpet wasn’t ruined.
Somewhere between 7:15 and 7:30, Annie, Bert, and Reiner all walked in with different items in hand. Annie held two things of paper towels, Reiner held a bottle of whiskey, jesus christ how much liquor do we need, and Bert happily held a tin casserole dish of taco dip. And finally closer to 8, Marco and Jean came in with extra cases of soda and extra cups.
As everyone made their plate and caught up on whatever they had missed in the last few months, they went downstairs to the card table, bar, and coffee table. You had showered and felt a lot better before everyone had gotten there, smoking half a blunt to calm your nerves in the garage with your not-so weed smoking boyfriend.
It was fun to see his eyes become glossy and low after only a few hits. You two didn’t smoke together often, he was more of a drinker if anything. But you were stressed and it was cold in the garage so it’s not like he was leaving you out there by yourself! .. Plus it’d calm his nerves as well so why not?
Eren walked back up the stairs with empty plates, tossing them into the trashcan before carrying three bottles of liquor downstairs without a word. You couldn’t help but laugh, seeing Connie and Armin meet him halfway on the stairs to help him carry everything. Mikasa stopped her conversation with Historia, leaning forward off of the couch as vigilant eyes squinted at the basement door. Was her boyfriend trying to sneak back downstairs??
“Did he just?” She got up, her/his jacket resting on her shoulders more as a cape than actually on. You nod, watching her follow them down the stairs and a surprised yelp come from Armin and Eren as if almost in trouble by their mother. You could hear music starting to play from the subwoofer, volume getting louder through the door.
You hung out upstairs, finally eating your food after talking to everyone and being forced to take at least two shots before eating by the group since ‘everyone was doing it’. Fuckin bullies.. Cocoa colored eyes follow Ymir as she snatched her own bottle from the freezer as if it was a trophy. “Cards downstairs, y/n?” She asked, smiling and opening the bottle before grabbing a few solo cups.
“Should be a pack of red ones on the table.” You spoke behind your hand, watching her smile get even bigger. She opened the door, stopping and holding the doorknob with the opposite hand before turning to her girlfriend sitting in the living room. “Please baby?”
Historia sighed in defeat, laughing a bit as a light blush laid against her cheeks from the few shots she had taken. She knew if she went they’d just make her drink more, but she decided to leave the living room and slowly shuffle on her socks into the kitchen anyway.
“Let me make f..food first..” She giggled, sliding past you to get a plate and get herself some carrots and broccoli, swaying and humming to herself as she put some dip on her plate with a plastic unused spoon.
Ymir smirked, half running down the stairs to see who wanted their ass kicked in cards. You look over to Historia, already looking at you with a happy smile. “Thank you for letting us all hang out here y/n, I know Armin said it first but I know it’s a two person thing.. ‘n your buffalo dip is soooo good!” She scooped some onto her new plate, having only really picked at the food earlier.
You let out a small laugh, leaning your back against the sink. “Thank you, I’ll make it again for the superbowl if you want?” She nodded happily, opening the fridge to see the fake champagne. She looked over at you for permission, not wanting to be bullied into any more shots by her friends, girlfriend and just fomo in general. “Yes you can take it downstairs, Take the rose one,” You slide her a cup, watching her happily grab the bottle and place the cup on top before grabbing her plate.
“Wait!” She squealed, setting the plate back down before turning to find something. She turned back to her plate, taking a carrot before looking up at you. “Do you have a marker?” You tilt your head, nodding and pulling one from your miscellaneous drawer. She quickly tossed the carrot into her mouth, scribbling out the word champagne before staring at it in satisfaction. She left the marker on the counter, bringing everything downstairs as she continued to slightly sway.
Eren, Jean, Connie, Armin, and Sasha were definitely getting a little too turnt the fuck up, you could hear them louder and louder as the music changed. Armin didn’t dislike rap, however he was sure as hell going with whatever shit Connie or Eren picked next. You could hear Reiner join in, Annie and Bert had walked down a while ago so it was really just you upstairs by this point.
As you began unplugging the crockpots so you could go downstairs, there was a commotion at your basement door. You open it to see Connie and Sasha drunkenly fumbling up the stairs to ask for you to make them plates because 'you do it best'. You didn’t mind, laughing and helping the two up as they stayed glued at the hip and didn’t seem to let go of each other out of fear of falling.. Even though it had already happened. You make sure to make the two of them big plates, turning with both in hand to see Sasha eating cheesecake on a napkin and with her hand.
“Thmnak you *smack* y/n, this ‘s so good-” Sasha spoke, closing her eyes as she toddled back and forth on her heels. Connie laughed at how quick she was to eat, watching her turn and fall near the trash can as she tried to dunk in the napkin. You let out a small laugh as well, setting their food down to help her up. “You two go downstairs, I’ll bring them okay?”
Connie fell to the floor laughing, causing Sasha to lean against you in a fit of giggles as well. You glance at the clock, seeing it had only been 10:30. “Yessss ma’am!” She pulled away from you, pointing and laughing at Connie before heading down the stairs slowly and carefully.
After his laughing fit, he held open the door for you since you were carrying two full ass plates. You smile and thank him, walking down. Ymir, Marco, Jean, Annie and Reiner were all playing a game of cards in the corner with a solo cup next to everyone at the table. You already knew who was actually drinking and who hadn't been.
You head over to the bar, setting the plates down where Armin was standing with his arms on the counter from the inside. His eyes lit up at the sight of you, quickly walking over to take a plate and set it on top of the counter. Sasha quickly ran over to start eating, Connie stumbling over to do the same.
“There you are..” His eyes weren’t as low, but they were definitely glossy from whatever he had been drinking. He hugged you close, resting his head atop of yours and pulling you as close as he could. “We miissed youuuu..” His smile was loopy, looking down at you with eyes still full of love. He wasn’t incoherent, but he was definitely more clingy when drunk. Not that it was bad, you just had to make sure his friends weren’t aware of how handys he can get.
Eren was looking up different songs on YouTube, Mikasa sitting beside him and hiding a bottle behind the couch. You could see the reflection of light on the glass, watching Eren absentmindedly look for it before a small noise came from the TV when he did end up selecting something.
“I missed you too, my big baby.” You let out a soft giggle. Throughout the night you had smoked with Connie, Eren, Reiner, and Armin. Everyone else didn’t fuck with weed like that, Ymir, Berthodlt, and Jean smoked occasionally but their preference was mostly vapes and or cigarettes which you guys would smoke before them because the smell of weed is nothin compared to a fuckin cigarette.
Historia didn’t smoke, Mikasa didn’t enjoy being high because it makes her anxious and Annie has this fruity flavored vape she hardly hit. But you were definitely still high. Armin didn’t look to be but he stopped early to check on the others so that probably is why he's more drunk than anything.
He pulled away, kissing your cheek and down your neck with a happy smile at the sight of you as you thought to yourself. “You look so pretty in this outfit, should let me take it off..” He mumbled into your ear, chuckling as he slid his hands under your shirt. You giggle, grabbing his wrists to keep his hands out of your shirt. He pouted as you spoke, eyes staring down at your lips as you spoke. “Hey, We have a room full of guests. Wait like.. two hours for me?”
Armin quickly smiles, nodding and moving to hold you by your belt loops. “I can wait forever for you..” He kissed your forehead, kissing down to your cheek and then your lips. You melt into it, giggling quietly and holding him close before hearing the Ad stop. There was only about 5 seconds of non-TV noise, but within so, you could hear Connie speak up.
“You guys gonna fuck right in front of me and Sasha’s food?” You pulled away, looking over at him with a squint and hearing Sasha die laughing. He looked at the TV in fear of looking at you any longer, sputtering and laughing as well. Armin’s face turned bright red, obviously starting to come to as he unhooked his fingers and sheepishly hid behind you despite being taller.
“Shut the fuck up Connie–” You were cut off by the subwoofer going back to playing loudly with Eren, Reiner, and Connie all yelling.
“LISTEN TO THIS TRACK, BITCH!!”
You rolled your eyes so hard they might as well have fallen into your skull, walking over to the couch as Armin held your hand and followed you. “Maybe we don’t need noise makers.. Got four of 'em right here.” You motioned to the people yelling, listening to everyone else who knew the lyrics also start getting loud. Maybe a few more shots wouldn't hurt.
here's part two! kinda suggestive but still crack/fluff for sure.
© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot and helps me out. Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!
#sugssfw#armin aot#armin arlert#armin arlet imagines#armin x black reader#armin x reader#armin arlet headcanons#armin x black y/n#armin arlet x reader#armin arlet x black reader#x black reader#x black plus size reader#x black y/n#x black fem reader#x black reader aot#aot x black reader#aot x reader#aot x you#aot x black y/n#aot x y/n#x black reader fluff#aot fluff#aot crackfic
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Why do you hate the Once and Future Knight? I decided not to pick up the book because of personal preference but I’d love to hear your rant on it
Hi anon!
I’m assuming you mean The Once and Future King by TH White?
There’s nothing I could say that hasn’t already been said before I’m sure. But I didn’t read the series until I had already read many other Arthurian tales and I really don’t understand the love the series gets. The negatives don’t outweigh the positives, and worse, the lasting impact of TH White’s characterization choices on subsequent retellings is a stain on the literary tradition that set us back too far to comprehend. Putting my rant below a cut because I went off and the subject matter is disgusting.
First and foremost, the bigotry is astounding. The racism, the misogyny, the ableism and every other prejudice and cruelty you can think of are staggering in their variety and magnitude. It’s vile. It’s inexcusable. I don’t read modern Arthurian retellings to be bombarded with that in every single chapter. TOAFK is not “a product of its time.” It’s a product of a deeply unhappy and hateful man. Plenty of earlier writing is vastly kinder to Palomides and Guinevere and Morgause and Mordred and Lancelot or any other character unlucky enough to be depicted by TH White. Literally the Medieval source material is more nuanced than that. Morgause get behind me.
Secondly, the anachronism is an annoying stylistic choice at best and yet another tool for bigotry at worst. Why are Mordred and Agravaine likened to Nazis? Like seriously what the hell? It’s not enough for them to be antagonists, the text has to invoke the Holocaust? It’s so extreme it rips the reader right out of the story and calls to mind the most horrific parts of history for no narrative benefit whatsoever. Baffling and bad.
Thirdly, the prose just kinda sucks. It’s rambling and TH White will pause the narrative to stand on a soap box to talk at the reader about his views. He’s anti-war. Fine. But of all characters to use as a mouthpiece—King Arthur? The warlord King Arthur? Make it make sense.
Fourth, most tragically of all, so much of what TH White did in his series is reflected in stories told to this day. Every other retelling has a cover quote comparing it to TOAFK. (It’s supposed to be a compliment!) To put it in perspective…
You ever read a retelling with evil neglectful parent and rapist Morgause/Morgan? TH White’s fault.
How about added incest between one of the Orkney bros and their mother (which sometimes results in someone other than Gaheris killing her, say, Agravaine or Mordred)? Thanks, TH White, that’s just what Arthurian Legend was missing, more incest.
Ever see disabled, crippled, bad seed Mordred? TH White started that trend.
What about Guinevere assaulting Lancelot when she learns about Elaine getting him drunk and raping him? TH White really said “Lol what if Guinevere hits Lancelot and spits in his face while he’s crying?”
And the racism! TH White walked so Thomas Berger could run (derogatory). Discussions of race are so intense and so frequent and so random like one minute the narrator has paused the plot to talk about how war is bad and now it’s slandering Native Americans? Brother this is Medieval England what is even happening right now? Oh, look, another N bomb. The antisemitism! Weren’t you just comparing Mordred to Hitler? What do you mean the Orcadian/Scottish characters are evil because of *checks notes* “the incalculable miasma which is the leading feature of the Gaelic brain?” [Queen of Air and Darkness chapter 5] Thanks TH White for stripping Lot, Morgause, Gawain, Agravaine, Gaheris, Gareth, and Mordred of all nuance, a condition from which they have, literally, never recovered. Of course there are some retellings since that write one or two of them with a crumb of nuance, but they’ll never be like they were in the Vulgate. Not all at the same time. I feel sick.
It goes on and on. I have to stop listing examples or I’ll get pissed off. But frankly, more people should be pissed off about it! I’m tired of seeing five star reviews on storygraph and goodreads accompanied by a review excusing the most bigoted garbage I have ever read in a children���s book. It’s vile and everyone should feel bad about defending it. It’s inexcusable. This wasn’t a case of good-intentioned inclusion with dated language, this was an author going out of his way to be hateful. Period.
Big names in the fantasy book community like Daniel Greene should not be awarding five stars and leaving an uncritical review.
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Far too many readers acknowledge the racism and then rate it five stars anyway. Go to Hell, Spencer.
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Here’s some from storygraph with, of course, praise for Marion Zimmer-Bradley’s pedophilic power fantasy Mists of Avalon, another piece of hot festering sludge everyone should stop talking about. Kill the legacy already. The real life victims have suffered enough.
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There also seems to be a trend in these reviews that excuse the texts bigotry by referring to how “old” it is. Which is crazy to me for many reasons. TOAFK in its final form was published in 1958. That wasn’t that long ago. Also racism has always been racism, misogyny has always been misogyny, ableism has ways been ableism. Plenty of authors came before this and really make TH White look like a clown.
Let’s promote them. In reverse!
John Steinbeck wrote The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights in 1956 (published posthumously in the 70s, don’t go by that date). His depictions of Morgan and Guinevere are nuanced and fascinating, not to mention some original characters including an old granny who teaches Owain to be a warrior! This book also has a morally gray sun-powered Gawain without insulting his heritage, an emotional and thought-provoking Lancelot without marking his sin with a facial deformity, and a really sweet Marhalt who doesn’t often get much spotlight!
John Erskine wrote Restoring Palamede in 1932. He does exactly what the cover says, and writes a story about the Muslim knight Palomides beginning in his own country, living with his parents whom are both named, and follows him as he learns the ways of the world and finds an ally in his friend Brangaine! Tristan and Isolde are compelling here and while Tristan can still be a jerk to Palomides, it’s not the mask-off bigotry we’ve seen…elsewhere.
Howard Pyle wrote one, two, three, four books between 1903-1910. Two thumbs up from me. No notes. He drank his respect women juice, drew them with loving care, named so many previously unknown, and gave them voices. He was kind in his portrayal to Palomides and even some other knights of color from India. Morgause survives the narrative! We love to see it!!!
Henry Newbolt wrote Mordred: A Tragedy in 1895. A fascinating examination of family ties, all five Orkney brothers here AND their wives Lyonors, Lynette, and Laurel! (Minus Ragnelle bc life is unfair.) Guinevere and Lancelot are tragic and heart wrenching. Arthur struggles against his son Mordred and their destiny in a way that doesn’t outright demonize either side. It will rewire your brain.
Richard Hovey wrote his poetry between 1891-1900. A complex and interesting Guinevere and Elaine who are not enemies, Lancelot close with Galehaut during the war, destroyed by his torn loyalties between Arthur and Guinevere, Gawain who loves his friend Lancelot with all his heart, and so much more without tearing anyone down!
Oscar Fay Adams wrote his poetry between 1886-1906. Here we get a wide variety of character focus, with title-featured names from King Lot to Dagonet to Lamorak to Lionel. Each one is more fascinating and nuanced and fresh than the last, from a tour of Lot’s castle and meeting each inhabitant to Lamorak on Grail Quest learning to forgive himself from “sweet” Sagramore.
William Morris wrote his poetry between 1856-1910. All of it is on the Camelot Project but I also have this scanned book. Here we delve into Guinevere’s trial as she calls out those who have wronged her, lonely Galahad on Grail Quest relating to his father Lancelot and praising Palomides in his steadfast hunt of the Questing Beast, there’s even a poem named for Palomides himself!!!
Anonymous wrote Moriaen in the 13th century. It follows Aglovale’s illegitimate son Moriaen, who is of African descent. As he travels around Britain looking for his father, Moriaen meets many people who are afraid of his dark skin. BUT! All the Knights of the Round Table leap to his defense, even threatening townsfolk who try to demonize Moriaen for the way he looks and refuse him service. It is, essentially, an anti-racism story from the Medieval era. Not to mention healer Gawain’s care and attention given to the sick and disabled. That’s not even the moral/focus of the story so much as Moriaen’s journey, but it’s there and worth mentioning.
So here we are with a whole list of stuff to read that predates TOAFK and surpasses it. The last one is only sort of a joke. But it’s there to make a point about how inexcusable TH White’s racism really is. If Anonymous could give a black knight like Moriaen the narrative respect he’s entitled to for existing as a representation of real human beings that look like him, then TH White was capable of it too. Progress is not linear. This is not to say Medieval times were “better” than society today. But to write off any problematic story of the recent past as “a product of its time” as an excuse to make oneself feel better about liking it, well, I don’t know what to say. Maybe reflect on that. And while that marinates, read something else.
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Nash Hawthorne & Libby Grambs Headcannons:
(bc my babies are far too underrated and they need some love)
tag list: @bewitchingkisses @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket
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- they decorate cowboy hats for all occasions and match
- it’s actually one of their favourite things to do on a date
- sometimes they do things like swap every ten minutes/try and design the perfect hat for the other/ choose a theme and design off of that
- nash 100% writes songs about libby and plays them too her on his guitar as well as singing
- nash has such a good singing voice and libby finds it really soothing
- sometimes libby will ask nash to give her two random flavours that she has to somehow incorporate into a cupcake
- nash learns how to dye libby’s hair when she wants to change it so he can do it for her
- similarly he also gets libby to teach him how to do different hairstyles (like braiding etc)
- he’s awful at it but libby thinks it’s so cute
- they are defos the biggest animal lovers, so they’d have a cat and a dog bc they couldn’t decide between the two
- I really feel like they’d have a horse as well (or maybe a few horses?? who knows??)
- and tell me they wouldn’t go horse riding into the sunset together wearing their matching cowboy hats
- they’d go in late night drives and blast Taylor Swift in the car
- libby is a passenger princess but nash loves that
- when Taylor released new albums they’d literally be the first in the store to buy it and then know all of the songs by the next day
- libby is a sucker for romance movies and always begs nash to watch them with her, he always complains but secretly he loves them too
- nash ALWAYS cries at the end of notebook and titanic
- libby finds this absolutely adorable
- nan loves libby and constantly tells her that she’s too good for nash
- once libby suggested they play strip bowling and nash literally blushed so hard
- nash tells libby so many crazy stories about him and his brothers and now she has so much to blackmail them all with (but she never will because she’s a literal ray of sunshine)
- libby has this notebook and when nash really likes a cupcake flavour she’ll secretly write it down so she can remember what he really loves and then surprises him with it a few weeks later
- every month the two of them aim to read a book together to talk about it
- nash sometimes uses cake-inspired nicknames when talking to libby, for example ‘sprinkle’, ‘cupcake’ and ‘jellybean’
- his brothers mock him for it but they shut up when nash glares at them
- nash is petrified of spiders but libby refuses to let them be killed, so whenever there’s one in the house libby has to pick it up and take it outside, whilst nash hides in a corner
- libby is the deepest sleeper. EVER. like this girl could sleep through three earthquakes whereas nash is a really light sleeper
- libby snores and nash thinks it’s really cute but he will never tell her
- nash loves painting her nails
- they rant about what they’re passionate about to the other and the other will literally just stare at them lovingly for however long
- they rarely ever fight and when they do they both absolutely hate it and end up just apologising and cuddling
- nash would literally do ANYTHING for this woman… like she wants random sour gummies at 3am? he is out the door. she needs an extra bag of flour mid cake-off? he’s the man on the job. she doesn’t want to go out? he already has a list of excuses and a second list of things they can do instead of going out…
- libby hates mushrooms in anything so will pick all of them out if they’re in her food and nash will eat them for her
- nash absolutely loves to have libby in his arms
- though she never really admits it, when libby sees nash take his helmet off after a motorbike ride she blushes so freaking hard
- she turns into an adorable little tomato
- libby hates being in any sort of limelight, interviews and paparazzi make her really uncomfortable so nash makes sure she doesn’t have to deal with it
- she never does any interviews and he’s very protective of her when approached by paparazzi, putting an arm around her and shielding her face in his chest, walking away quickly as he requests the paparazzi to stop
- it is also important to both libby and nash that when they have kids they don’t grow up with all the pressure of the media. they don’t show their kids faces or reveal that much about them, until they’re old enough to do it for themselves and consent
- nash is actually a really good cook but a horrible baker
- libby tried to teach him how to make a cupcake once and he managed to mess it up
- and don’t even get me started on when he tried to ice a cupcake… that was an abomination
- but they often plan nights where nash cooks the meal and libby bakes desert and the two of them enjoy it together
- nash really cares deeply that libby always feels safe and happy and loved in the relationship because of her last relationship
- he checks with her every once in a while
- libby finds this so sweet and is so touched that someone cares this much about her
- they’re not massive on PDA, nash likes to have his arm around her usually
- that said, they’re not afraid to kiss or show affection if people are around, they just tend not to
- nash gives the BEST massages, they’re to die for and libby adores them
- no one makes libby laugh harder than nash does
- and he loves the sound of her laugh
- like grayson, libby is also REALLY ticklish so nash often starts tickle wars with her
- when they go to a restaurant libby is very indecisive so nash just tells her to order two or three things and whatever she doesn’t want he’ll eat
- one of their daughter’s first words is ‘yee-haw’ (CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE!!!)
- nash is such a natural dad because he had so much experience literally raising his brothers
- when libby sees this it makes her really emotional and she thinks she’s a bad mom
- but nash reassures her that she is literally the best mom in the world and that their twins are so lucky to have her
a/n: I just found these headcannons at the bottom of my drafts so I’m posting them?! I don’t even know how long ago they were written but I hope you enjoy anyways. I’ve decided they’re in honour of the libby and nash cards coming out (omg I’m obsessed)
also let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in headcannons in the future, I just tagged everyone I normally would but if you don’t want to don’t be shy to let me know <333
TIG masterlist
#bella writes 🤍#nash hawthorne x libby grambs#nash x libby#nash hawthorne#libby grambs#the inheritance games#tig#the brothers hawthorne#the final gambit#the hawthorne legacy#the grandest game#tgg
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SMG4 Crew Redesigns Part 1
Finally got them done! I saw some people do redesigns for the SMG4 Crew and I wanted to put my spin on it. So far I’ve done SMG4, SMG3, Meggy, Mario, and Luigi. I'm for sure gonna do the others at one point. But it was perfect timing since I did finally finish all the arcs in order (and the important episodes in between for the most part) so I at least have some better context then all the stuff from 2022+ and all.
So first up SMG4. I’ve seen people incorporate the glitch color pallet so I tried to put a little bit on the shoes and pant legs. That and I’ve seen him associated with stars. I don’t quite understand why people do redesigns with it; maybe it’s something in an old episode I haven’t seen yet or something but I thought it’d be neat to add. Added the number four roman numeral for him too cuz it felt off only having 3 have it. Shoulder strap off cuz vibes idk.
Next up SMG3! I’ve seen so many people give him long hair/ a mullet and dammit it was just too perfect to have. That with some ripped pants and gloves and earrings to add for his redesign. And of course the overall pocket for Eggdog because yes.
Up next Meggy! She felt like the biggest change to me but I think it’s mainly the hair being the reason. Originally I was keeping the long hair, but when I was watching the arcs and saw her inkling form didn’t have any tentacle things in the back just the front (forgive me idk if that’s what those are called a barely played splatoon) so I felt like after turning human she would first have the long hair but then cut it as a way to cope if that makes sense? Idk she seemed to have struggled for some time just trying to adjust to human form and at least she would have control over her hair. Then I gave freckles which I believe her first human model design did have them but it was so faded it was hard to tell so I tried to make em a bit more noticeable (though now that I’m looking at them maybe I should make em thicker idk yet).
Now friggen Mario. Good lord he was the last one I finished and it should not have been this hard. It’s all minor changed I feel like- I tried to make him still identifiable while still having some differences like the short sleeves, belt, and patches. That and I put his signature M on the gloves too to match SMG4 and SMG3. I was struggling with the mouth (not the cursed one just normal) because sometimes it would look off. Luigi I had more of a problem with though than Mario for whatever reason; maybe it’s the mustache.
Which speaking of Luigi as the final one for the list thing. He definitely gave me turtle neck vibes so I wanted to give him that, plus a belt that has those little bag strap things or whatever you call them to hold stuff like maybe some flower seeds or whatever he needs to. And I only did one of those little drawings with a mouth but when I tried doing it for the others it felt off. Probably for future drawings with these refs I’ll add mouths or won’t depending on the mood.
And yeah those are my redesigns. Definitely wanna do the others like Tari and Saiko for example. But some I know will be tricky because I don’t really know what I could add for redesigns like Mr. Puzzles and Karen for example. But we’ll see.
Part 2 of SMG4 Redesigns
#smg4#smg4 smg3#smg4 meggy#smg4 meggy spletzer#smg4 Mario#smg4 Luigi#smg4 redesigns#smg3 redesign#Meggy redesign#Meggy spletzer redesign#mario redesign#Luigi redesign#smg4 Mario redesign#smg4 Luigi redesign
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man. spinner and shoji were two characters that i really enjoyed and wanted to see more of... until i did get to see more of them and horikoshi stomped on my dreams...
spinner goes from being one of the best characters to being ridiculously one-dimensional. the heroes don't do jack shit, until it's revealed at the last second that they did, meaning that everything the 'bad guys' did was ultimately useless. kurogiri being in a hospital made no sense; the guy is a high-ranking villain who is far too useful to the villains to give up, he should be in a highly secure location like tartarus. shoji goes from being someone who i really enjoyed to being someone with ignorant beliefs, despite him accusing his friends of being such people.
seriously, shoji's rant on how the 'people from the city' wouldn't understand because they 'had it easy'. NEWSFLASH: discrimination happens everywhere. yes, it's a lot more rampant outside of cities, but it still exists within a city. heck, i had someone scream racial slurs at me while i was walking home, and i live in a big city. to say that someone had it easy just because you had it worse is a horrible thing to say, especially when it's coming from someone who is supposed to be empathetic.
this is not shoji's beliefs. this is horikoshi's beliefs. he could have easily had shoji say something like 'you have had it hard. that being said, people are more willing to turn to extremes outside of the city'.
also, shoji's whole 'violence to get what you want never works out!!' is wrong. i'm not saying from a moral standpoint - that's perfectly fine. but it's historically wrong. yes, there are such a thing as peaceful protests, but they have never worked out as well as those that fight violence with violence. blm riots, for example, were the thing to force the government to take a closer look at why people were rioting and do things to prevent more property damage.
another thing i found troubling was how the mutants became enraged at a person of colour, specifically black, for trying to intervene and empathise with them, screaming that he could not understand. it's supposed to imply that racism wasn't a concern after quirks emerged, as people found other things to discriminate.
which is... very idealistic. if that were something people would really do, then racism wouldn't be a thing after sexism came to light. and neither of them would exist after the lgbt or the neurodivergent. but that's not what happened.
if someone else arises that people could discriminate upon, people would just add that to the list of things to discriminate on.
horikoshi could have drawn anyone for the mutants to yell at. he chose to use a person of colour. it comes off as very tone-deaf and it was just another sign that the mini-arc would screw up.
spinner losing his mind was bad. as in bad-bad. as in, there were so many ways to write this fight, and he chose this? instead of being a battle of ideaologies, it's shoji convincing the rest to step down, then trying to beat a mind-less spinner.
it could have been one of the best fights, with shoji's belief that using violence to solve your issues will only make it worse, and spinner arguing that using violence is the only way to do it with the state of their society.
no matter who won, in that case, it would be ultimately up to the readers to decide who truly won. who had the stronger argument, who made the more sense, all that jazz...
instead, shoji yells at a bunch of people about how 'destroying property isn't good' and 'violence is never the answer', all the while using violence to subdue him.
that could have been could, if it was commented on. if there were some sort of self-awareness.
but it's not and there is none. it went from being an arc i was really looking forward to reading, to something i can no longer stand.
shoji. spinner. you were both done so dirty
#mha critical#bnha critical#shoji critical#spinner critical#horikoshi critical#analysis#idealism vs realism#except the idealism is cranked up to eleven#because horikoshi doesn't know his history#japan had it's own blm-esque thing so there isn't an excuse#i'm talking about the mass-killing spree of koreans and the chinese in japan btw#honestly thinking of rewriting mha just to satisfy me
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You mentioned in a headcanon post about how Tobi would knock reader out with their voice when they did something they didnt like, could you make an example scenario 4 us ? :0
"No."
There are many things Tobi can protect you from. Ghosts and demons, spiteful commentors and people who wouldn't take no for an answer were forces they could easily handle as simply as flicking off a light switch. Ancient, decrepit houses - as hard as they may try, weren't always included in that list.
As per usual - Tobi left to explore the house you'd picked out for your next stream couple days prior to the stream to rid the place of any hostile spirits or other elements that may bring you harm. It was pretty much habitual for them scout every location, and helped relived some of their stress towards leaving you to your own devices in what was essential the unknown.
The house was far worse off inside that the pictures you had showed them conveyed. A riverside lodge annihilated by a enraged storm and the overflooding waters from the river bank. The young couple who owned the home tragically drowned after leaving the sun roof open the night prior and failing to wake up before it was too late. The walls sagged with age and decades of water weight, and the warped, rotting floors could barely handle Tobi's lanky stature and size.
Normally, they'd just install some temporary support planks and forbid you from venturing to the top floor or basement, but exploring deeper they came to the conclusion this site was far too dangerous for you to step a single foot inside.
Heading towards the stairway to the top floor, there was a large gap right between where the first step and the bottom floor met. It was narrow enough to where they could just step over - but Tobi noticed something right as they peered casually into the hole. A piece of fabric stuck to the spliters of the wood. It was in too good a condition to be something from the incident, but that's not what made Tobi pause.
The scrap of cloth matched perfectly to a jacket you had just released - the same jacket you were throwing on now.
"Aw, come on, Tobi - this could be our big break!"
Their fingers fly to fast across their phone screen for your eyes to keep up.
"Too dangerous."
Laughing, you zip up your jacket as you reach for your keys. "You always say that. If you're scared, you can wait in the car and I'll cut the stream short. I did okay on my own before you came around."
Grabbing the tail end of your jacket, Tobi's mind rushes back to the second sight they saw in that hole. The bloated corpses of one of your followers - staring straight up at him. They couldn't even remember what their face looked like. All they saw was yours. It was always yours.
Tobi grabs your wrist, squeezing the ball of your hand until you're forced to lose your grip on your keys. Stay. Don't go. Your adventurous spirit was one of the endless things they loved about you and they'd never take that away - but if you left their sight for a single second then-
"No......"
Pressure builds behind your eyes. You pres a hand to your temple, shaking off the brief wave of nausea "Ugh.. Tobi... I'll be okay, I promise. I got a little headache now, so I didn't won't be out long. "
No.... Flashes of your face in that horrible state cloud their already fogged mind- eyes glossy, skin pale and so, so cold. A far cry from the life and warmth you gave off now. It would only take one second. One second for you to get hurt. One second for them to lose you. They can't go back to life without you. They can't be that empty shell rotting away in an equally decaying home. They can't - they won't. You can't leave them.
"YOU'RE NOT GOING TO LEAVE ME!"
It all happens so fast. Your brain throbs. Without utter a single word, you place your fingers your lips - red being all you see. Shaking, you look up at your cameraman as your jaw goes slack.
"To-"
Your eyes glaze over, trembling legs unable to support the remaining weight of your body as you fall. Tobi dives to the floor, catching you in their arms before your unceremoniously landing. Your head almost hits the floor before their arms shoot out to catch you. He supports it and your neck on his shoulder, unzipping your jacket with the same tremors you had before your fall. Tobi removes their hat and places their ear to your chest.
One beat. Two-
You're still alive. Deep down they knew, but for the sake of their aching heart they had to make sure. Tobi carefully zips your jacket back up and once they do - they begin to cry. If your comatose state was good for one thing it was leaving you in the dark, unharmed by their wails and pleads.
"sorry... I'm so sorry... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I love you. I love you. Please - please don't leave me..Don't leave me."
Tobi slowly regains their composure. They wipe the blood from your nose, and their thick tears from your face as they stand. Tobi carries you to your bedroom and places you in bed. They clear your search history of anything related to the cabin and burn the notes along it. They reserve a table at your favorite restaurant for tomorrow, praying you'll wake up before the time comes. As you rest they rehearse their lines for when you wake - thankful you'll never hear the break in their voice when they lie.
#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere x you#yandere headcanons#yandere insert#yandere scenarios#yandere blurb#yandere oc#yandere#Tobi my oc#yandere angst#yandere teratophilia
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