#C++ Developer Job Description

[hiringgo6]

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[literaryvein-reblogs]

hello! I love your blog. you helped me so much with writing. if you don't mind can you do writing notes on character study. I wanted for so long to do it but I'm lost. thanks for everything

Writing Notes: Character Study

Character Study - a deep dive into a character’s traits, personality, and development in literature, TV, and film.

GUIDE #1. The model below provides a guide for the analysis of the characters in order to identify the personality of each of them, their attitude and the network of relationships holding together the drama/story. The analysis will focus on:

the character’s physical appearance (description of body and face,  clothes and accessories);

story of his/her life (identification of all biographical elements that define the character’s story and situate him or her in relation with the others);

point of view (interpretation of the character’s perspective in relation to the overall vision of world as proposed by the author);

personality (description of the character’s behavior defining his/her personality on stage as it relates to others: tone of the voice, gestures, movements, distance or proximity to other characters);

description of the mask (different ways in which each character places himself/herself in relation to others);

definition of the mask’s motivation and choice through which the character will achieve his/her goals.

GUIDE #2. Identify each character on the 4 basic levels of characterization from information you find in the text. The following is a list of suggestions for each category. This is by no means an all-inclusive list, but meant to be used as a guideline:

A. Physical/Biological. gender, age, size, coloration and general appearance

Age – be as specific as possible

Gender/Sex – not only male/female, but virile, macho, feminine, etc.

Health – from excellent to sickly, including how one’s health may or may not effect his/her appearance.

Particular physical characteristics that makes the character distinctive – big nose, hunchback, large breasts, etc.

Ethnic origin – race, coloring of skin and hair

Physical Stature/Figure – perfect, average, tall/short, thin/fat, malformed, hunched, slouchy, willowy, etc.

Physical Activity - dynamic, active, sedentary, listless, etc.

Face – handsome, good looks, common, homely, etc.

B. Social. economic status, profession or trade, religion, family relationships

Class Situation – aristocracy, upper, upper middle, middle, lower middle, lower, beggar etc.

Economic Situation – rich, independent, salaried, day labor, dependent (just because someone is a member of the aristocracy, doesn’t mean they have money)

Social Situation/Social Role - how is the character related to the other characters in the play? Family? Friends? Co-workers? The boss? The King? Etc. Is there a specific social event taking place, such as a wedding, where in the character has to take on a particular social role, such as father-of-the-bride?

Relationship to the World around him/her – How does the character fit into his/her social situation? Is the character popular? Does he/she have friends? Is he/she a loner? Etc. How does the character interact with the other characters - is the character: a leader, a helper, a follower, submissive, a slave?

Occupation – list the character’s specific job or trade

Group Affiliation – Does the character belong to or identify with a specific group or team? (example – a minority group, a club, a sports team, a political group, etc)

Is there a specific social event taking place, such as a protest rally, where in the character identifies with a particular group, such as feminists?

Political affiliation – Republican, Democrat, etc.

Religious affiliation – Christian, Jewish, Muslim, etc.

C. Psychological/Emotional Reveals habitual responses, desires, motivations, like and dislikes – the inner workings of the mind. Reveals how the characters think (psychological) and what they feel (emotional). This is considered the most essential level of characterization. Keep in mind that a person’s thoughts and feelings can often be determined as a further extension of his/her physical and social characteristics. For example – under social, you can determine a character’s religious affiliation. Under psychological/emotional, you can determine what that person thinks or feels about his/her religion.

Psychological State – what does the character think about his/herself and the world around them? Is the character: open-minded objective, subjective, unselfish, selfish, paranoid?

Emotional State – what does the character feel about his/herself and the world around them? Does the character feel: accepted, rejected, oppressed, etc?

Emotional Depth - are the character’s relationships: life-long, lasting, moderate, passing, momentary?

Emotional Control – no temper, slow temper, even tempered, quick tempered, a loose cannon

Emotional Type – extrovert, ambivert, introvert...

Desires or goals – what does the character want?

Loves – what, or who, does the character value?

Weaknesses – what, if anything, is a potential psychological or emotional weakness, on the part of the character, that can interfere with the character obtaining his/her desire?

Prejudices – what, if anything, does the character feel prejudicial about?

Fixed Attitudes – Similar to a prejudice, but not with the negative connotation. For example, in your social analysis you’ve determined the character is Jewish. Now, determine how that character feels or thinks about Judaism – is the character: a zealot, a liberal, orthodox, conventional, a skeptic?

D. Moral/Ethical Reveals what the characters are willing to do (moral beliefs) to get what they want and what characters actually do (ethical behavior) when faced with making a difficult choice. Determine the characters’ moral beliefs and ethical behavior, and how those relate to the world of the play. Be very careful not to judge them based upon your own morals and ethics. For example, you may believe it is morally wrong for two people to live together unless they are married. However, in the world of this play/literature, no characters may hold this moral belief, and the playwright/writer may not be making a point about this moral belief, and therefore such actions are not to be seen as immoral or unethical within the context of the work.

Moral beliefs – an individual’s or society’s beliefs in what is right and wrong in terms of behavior.

Is the character able to determine right from wrong and to make decisions based upon that knowledge?

Determine the individual character’s morals, based on what his/her conscience suggests is right and wrong, rather than on what the law or society dictates.

Determine the morals of the world of the play in general: the principles of right and wrong judged by the standards of the average person or society at large, and how those principles govern standards of general and/or sexual behavior. Does the character hold beliefs in contradiction to those of their society?

Does the character evolve/change? For example, is there a moral belief the character holds at the beginning of the play that he no longer holds at the end of the play? In other words, does something happen for the character to change his mind and be convinced otherwise?

In the work itself, is there a “moral to the story”? Is the writer using the character as a positive or negative example in relation to this moral?

Ethical behavior – how an individual or society conducts themselves according to their morals.

How does a character’s moral beliefs affect his/her conduct? For example, is a character unable to act due to a moral/ethical dilemma?

How does a character’s goals affect his/her conduct? Is the character’s ethical behavior contrary to his/her moral beliefs? For example, a character believes it is morally wrong to commit murder, but to obtain his goal, his is willing to behave unethically and kill.

Does the character believe that he is acting ethically, yet is the writer holding him up as an example of how one should not behave?

Does the character behave according to or contrary to any of the 4 basic levels, therefore giving a false perception of themselves to the other characters? For example, you may have determined that a character is seriously ill, yet the character behaves as if he were in perfect health. Or a character may masquerade as someone he is not. What morals and/or goals are affecting this behavior?

E. Mental/Intellectual A 5th area you can consider. Reveals how intelligent and creative a character may be.

IQ – brilliant, good mind, average, dull...

Education – scholar, college, self-made, schooled...

Mental type – philosophic, scientific, mechanical, artistic, social, scientific...

Dexterity – dexterous, skilled, handy, clumsy, uncoordinated...

Creativity – genius, talented, original, unoriginal...

Interests, skills, accomplishments

QUESTIONS

Who is the Protagonist? Who is the Antagonist?

Which characters are of Primary Focus?

Which characters are of Secondary Focus?

Which characters qualify as ‘set dressing’?

Are any of the characters Symbols or Metaphors?

Are any of the characters Formalized Conventions?

CHARACTER ANALYSIS. A character analysis is a close examination and evaluation of one character from a work of fiction such as a novel, short story, or play.

The only direct description of most characters in fiction is of their physical appearance and/or their professions.

Their identities and traits are established through their interactions with other characters as well as their opinions, reactions, and moods.

For instance, while introducing Katniss (from The Hunger Games), the author did not bluntly state that she is courageous. Rather, this was demonstrated through several scenes in the book, such as when she volunteered to take her sister’s place at the Reaping.

In a character analysis, the writer’s job is to pick up on such hints and subtle clues in the story to reveal a clear image of the subject character. The writer can also evaluate the character, critiquing their development and the role they played in the plot.

Developing a Character Analysis. In order to write a character analysis, the first task is to choose the subject, if not already determined in the assignment question. It is easier to pick if the writer is already familiar with the text in which the character exists. Recognizing the types of characters also helps during the selection.

Once the subject character has been decided upon, the text ought to be critically read, with special attention being paid to the character.

As mentioned earlier, much of their personality and qualities are hinted at and indicated indirectly through their actions and thoughts, and not openly stated.

Thus, the re-reading should be done with the aim of picking up on these clues. 

Oftentimes, the character’s backstory is also not included in the text but can be discerned from their behavior and characteristics. It, too, should be pieced together during the analysis, as it has a bearing on the character’s actions and lets readers better understand their motivations.

A record of the character’s involvement in each element of the plot, how this involvement affected other characters, and the eventual direction and outcome of the story should also be kept. Their own personal changes/growth/development should also be tracked.

Outline of a Character Analysis Essay

Introduction: The text and the character are briefly introduced. The thesis statement informs readers of the thrust and goal of the essay. It includes a claim about or evaluation of the character that will be borne out by the rest of the essay.

Body: The character is delved into in greater detail here. The analysis is laid out where their traits, appearance, backstory, and role are examined in detail. The character’s growth – or lack of it – are highlighted here as well. An outline drawn up during the prewriting process helps in organizing this section in a coherent manner that holds up the claims in the thesis statement.

Conclusion: The essay is concluded with a final assessment of the character that confirms the validity of the thesis.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hi, thanks for telling me. Glad to hear this! Here are some tips and guides I found for you. There are numerous guidelines available online, so choose which one (or combine elements from such guides) you want to use. You can find more details in the sources linked above. Hope this helps.

[elysianightsss]

Limerence | One

C H A P T E R O N E

limerence / lim-ê-rêns / (noun)

“Obsessive romantic attraction towards another person”

Summary: In which the owners of Jujutsu Incorporated, the Ôgami brothers, are suddenly interested in you.

Pairing: Alpha!Sukuna x reader, Alpha!Itadori x reader, Alpha!Gojo x reader, Alpha!Geto x reader, Alpha!Nanami x reader, Alpha!Kenjaku x reader

Status: Ongoing.

Genre: werewolf au, soulmate, polyamory relationship, angst, fluff, omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics.

Warnings: smut, violence, mentions of knotting, heats, ruts, insecurities, some descriptions of reader’s body, mention of possible ED, omegaspace, domdrop, swearing, blood, depression, suicidal thoughts, possessiveness, obsessive thoughts, Alpha tendencies.

Chapter warnings: self hatred, insecurities, mentions of insomnia, anxiety, depressive thoughts, Sukuna being a little shit, reader being sick, anxiety medication.

Masterlist | Teaser 1 | Chapter 2

Taglist: @better-imagination-9 @tiredjuniper @jjkz @honeybeeboobaa @cherryblossomdelusion @dependsonthedream

Taglist is open.

————————————————————————

Happiness is a fickle creature. A constant companion to some, hides herself entirely from others. She’s been an elusive creature to you. You don’t particularly remember the last time happiness had visited you, it had been so long since she’d hidden herself away, you barely remember what she looks like.

Nevertheless you feel yourself still seeking her out, even if you’re wholly against putting yourself into situations that are good for you. Why would you when you don’t deserve for her to find you. Maybe she never will and maybe that’s all you’re worthy of.

The distress and utter despair you always feel are now numbing agents to you. It feels like a heavy weight on your shoulders weighing you down so intensely but you should be used to it by now. It’s been years. You’ll be celebrating the ten year anniversary soon.

Ten years since you had parents. Over ten years since the world went to shit. Years of being thrown around the foster system, never settling in one place, not belonging anywhere, never feeling wanted. The people who took you in just wanted the money that came with you.

You tried your hardest despite being moved around constantly and being part of shitty families, to study your best. To get good grades and have good attendance. You could say you threw yourself into your school work so one day you’d be smart enough to leave wherever you were.

The bullies certainly liked to choose you as their target, and despite some teacher’s best interests, the bullies always got to you.

Even when you graduated and went to university, you were still bullied, though again you worked hard and kept to yourself.

You graduated university and got the first job that was offered to you, an assistant editor at the best publishing company there was; Panda. Your job kept you busy and allowed you to not only support the publisher but also the commissioning editor with development and delivery of a manuscript.

You also worked closely with authors and editors, supporting the editor with admin help and coordinating with other departments such as sales and production. With reading all the manuscripts, it allowed you to fall into the worlds authors had made. It let you take your mind off of the reality you faced.

So wrapped in your self loathing and hatred you almost missed the alarm telling you to ‘wake up’ though you’d been awake for hours. Insomnia really is a bitch. You were slow getting up and ready, but your early alarm prepared for that. The kitchen floor was freezing against your feet, you practically ran to get your glass of water and anxiety medication.

Taking your time you grabbed your outfit for the day, a black Solid Cable Knit Sweater Vest With a white Blouse underneath, and black slacks to match. Removing your house slippers, you pulled on your ankle socks and slipped your feet into a pair of black loafers. A little gold chain across the tops of the shoes, easily matching the gold chain bracelet you wore.

Not bothering with a jacket, you simply grabbed your bag and the manuscript you finished before leaving your little apartment.

On your walk to work you passed cute bakery’s with mouth watering smells emanating from them. If only you had the time and money to get a sweet baked good, they all looked so delicious.

A frown slipped onto your face as you approached Jujusu Incorporated Headquarters, the tallest building in the city, the biggest being The Jujutsu incorporated training compound. The Ôgami brothers really have done so much for, not only the country but also the world.

Too bad they weren’t around when all this werewolf mess started. It would have stopped your tragedy. You stared up at the massive sky scraper, no expression on your face, it stayed that way even after you walked away.

In said building, Sukuna relaxed back into the black swivel chair, his body tired and in desperate need of rest. He was reaching close to his limit, he would soon pass out from exhaustion he knew that much. Being more than a little irritable and moody, it was like Christmas Day when his easy to wind up brother walked into Kento’s office.

“Saw you on tv pisshead, you have fun?” Sukuna taunts his older brother with a dirty grin plastered on his face, one of his sharp eyebrows arched. Satoru sighs glancing at the face Sukuna was making, it grated on him, causing an itch to settle in his nerves. Gritting his teeth to do his best not to show the younger that he was affected.

“It was riveting.” Satoru spat running a hand through his white hair as he walked further into the big office, “Don’t be jealous Sukuna. I know you don’t like the spotlight but I love it. I’d appreciate you putting aside the competitive little narcissist that rages within you and letting me savour it.” Satoru had a grin of his own now, knowing he hit a nerve too.

Sukana growled deep within his chest, the noise causing Satoru to challenge him with a growl of his own. “Enough brothers.” Kento scoffs at the display of childish behaviour, “Satoru, the public is pleased with our imagine because of you. You should be proud of your achievements.”

“Thank you Kento.” Satoru nodded his head toward the pack Alpha, the sides of his lips curving up in the tiniest of smiles.

“Kiss ass.” Sukuna scoffed with a roll of his sharp red eyes. Kento shot him a small glare, being pack Alpha had its perks. Each of his brothers had to obey him, nothing to do with being the eldest to. Kento was simply born pack Alpha, his personality traits were that of a pack Alpha and his scent reeked of his leadership.

“Let’s wait for the rest of the pack before we start with the kiss ass comments, Yuji isn’t even here yet.” Satoru joked, a smirk playing on his lips causing his brothers to smirk in turn. Almost as if he knew, Yuji, Kenjaku and Suguru walked through the large double doors.

Kento pulled off his armless glasses dropping them on the desk, “So now that we’re all here, we can begin our weekly meeting.”

“Saw you on tv-“

“Shut up Kenjaku.” Kento cut Kenjaku off.

“Already said it.” Sukuna laughed his head thrown back at the similarity between his brother and him. You’d think that Sukuna and Yuji, and Suguru and Kenjaku would be the most similar due to being sets of twins however they could not be less alike.

“Let’s just get started so we can get on with our days yes?” It was rhetorical, “great.” Kento answered himself, joining his brothers as they all took their seats at the table. He went over, press statements about the company. New Alphas that are one route to be transferred. Alphas that are graduating their training. And an upcoming interview at Panda.

“Don’t they publish books?” Suguru questions looking down at the list of things Kento was reading out.

“They’re branching out, wanting to get involved with the news and since the owner of the company is a close friend of mine, I’ve agreed for one of us to do an interview.” At this Satoru looked up his bright blue eyes harshened by a frown.

“One of us? But that’s my job.” He squeezed his hands together.

“Yes but you’ve spent the past two months travelling for publicity and away from your pack as well as your home. You will be resting for two weeks, remember strain on yourself…”

“Puts strain on the pack.” The entire pack spoke the last sentence, all of them nodding in agreement.

“Fine then who’s it going to be?”

-

You’d arrived to work on time and after fifteen minutes of being there, you wished you’d called in sick. The whole building was going crazy, people running from one place to another. You felt severely overwhelmed and overstimulated, it was taking a second for your brain to comprehend everything. Usually work was slow, a few meetings that were a slightly faster pace, but all in all work was slow.

This right now was crazy. That was the only word you could use for it. Then it got worse.

“I need you to do an interview.” Mr. Panda, your boss, didn’t ask but demanded. You knew you didn’t really have much say but a small part of you wanted to argue against it, that wasn’t your job. You nodded anyway taking the list of questions he had handed you.

You watched him walk away with a sick feeling clawing its way up your throat, it burned and tasted of chemicals. Maybe you should’ve had breakfast this morning before you took your meds. Anxiety swirls around your head and in turn has your stomach flipping, your feet are moving and before you can process you’re over the toilet dry heaving.

A tiny bit of sick comes out, your face scrunches up with the horrible taste. You pant hard as you come to terms with what’s happened, your body shaking while you try to calm your mind. Tears threaten to spill onto your cheeks, you try to control your shuddering breath. Picking yourself up and dusting yourself off, you flush the toilet and head to the sink to wash your hands and mouth out.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you notice how dark the bags are under your eyes, how small and frail you look, how lifeless your eyes look. You are the perfect representation of how dead you feel inside.

As if your brain picked the most unimportant thing to worry about instead of being critical of yourself, you realised you didn’t have the interview questions with you anymore. Sighing you left the bathroom and went back to the main office area.

You spot them on the floor, thank goodness they’re still there, you think as you make your way over to them only for someone to grab them first. Irritation settles in your bones, you huff annoyed before looking up at the thief who stole your interview questions, more like the thief who took your breath away.

Your heartbeat was pounding in your chest, so loud that was all you could hear. Your cheeks were tinted pink and you felt flustered the longer the man in front of you stared down at you with his piercing red eyes. His lips were slightly parted, pink hair messy and he. was. big. You felt so tiny with the way he towered over you, your omega for the first time in ten years let you know of her existence with a deep purr.

It had his wolf purring too. Sukuna prided himself on control. Control over his body, mind and wolf. Yet one simple look at you and he felt his control slipping out of his possession. His wolf snarled inside him, the usually peaceful barrier between the beast and man already breaking. His wolf desperate to get out, mark you as his. Claim you.

“Ah I see you two have already met.” Mr.Panda comes over with a smile, “It’s good to see you Sukuna. This is the woman who’s going to interview you.”

Sukuna hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for a second even when you looked at your boss while he spoke. Mr.Panda introduced you to each other, hearing your name, Sukuna did everything in his power to stop his eyes from rolling back into his skull, instead the rubies moved down your body.

You were truly beautiful, his wolf wanting nothing more but to sink his teeth into your delicious thighs. Your luscious, sweet chocolate scent made him want to devour you mind, body, and soul. He knew immediately, by your scent that you were his mate.

The interview was intense, he never looked away from you. He was always studying something, your eyes, your thighs, your figure, everything. It made you squirm in your seat, it had you uncomfortable and self conscious yet you felt adored at the same time. It was a confusing new feeling to you, it made you wonder where it had come from.

You stumbled over every question, your hands shook as you wrote down his answers. You weren’t scared just so incredibly nervous, no one had ever made you feel this way before. Sukuna asked you if you had anymore questions, all you longed to ask was if his heart was beating as fast as yours but you were too afraid to hear the answer.

“N-No I don’t,” You stuttered, “that was the last one.” You looked relieved but he looked disappointed. Quickly you stood, bowed to him and rushed out of the room, you were basically jogging to get back to your office when you felt a strong hand on your shoulder spin you around, he pulled you in close, you began to tremble all over. You felt his warm breath against your lips, red eyes staring at yours intensely.

“T-This is highly inappropriate.” You tried to look anywhere but his beautiful eyes as he spoke.

“Maybe for regular people.” He nodded in agreement, then his voice took on a deeper octave, “But certainly not for my mate.”

[lucis-dove]

WAIT I HAVE A THOUGHT! ok i have two i think it could turn into more but price using his military rank to either a) get someone to back off of sunshine!reader and marissa OR b) sunshine calls him captain during sex OR c) HE USES IT IN BOTH OF THOSE SITUATIONS IN THE SAME FIC 👀👀 …are those weird? idk but if you feel up to it this is a request for you to work your magic on this please and thank you

A/N: uhm, don't look at me nonnie, I got too carried away🫣

Rank me

Summary; As a Captain, Price has an air of authority not everyone does. One day when he returns from base, he finally makes you admit why you find that trait of his particular attractive 

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot 

Word count; 9.3k

Warnings; smut (18+, no minors please), captain!kink, vaginal fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, slight edging, d/s themes,

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

You sit opposite John, elbow resting against the armrest, head propped up by your fingers. He's seated in one of the two armchairs on the other side of your coffee table while you're sitting on your couch. A folder rests partly on the armrest of his seat and the unoccupied armchair beside him. A few more maps, although closed, were placed on the table. 

You're not nosy with John's work, so the seemingly inconspicuous folders aren't what's gotten your attention. The man reading through them does.

John's elbow relaxes on the armrest while his lower back is curved, sunken into his seat, legs spread with feet planted firmly on the ground. 

You'd tried to remind him of his posture, knowing he probably would complain about his back if he sat like that for too long. When you had, those blue eyes had flickered to yours with an appreciative look as he repositioned himself straight. However, he didn't last like that for long before slowly melting downwards again, retaking his 'I have a bad back but won't do anything about it pose'.

Although, as you now watch him working, it isn't a chide resting on your tongue.

John has returned to active duty, the past week being his first one back since he extended his issued downtime by a week after his most recent deployment, the one during late summer. You learned there's a big difference between active duty and deployed, never even coming close to either despite that martial course you took a few years back. The former meant you often were stationed on your home base, able to go back and forth home if you desired, much like ordinary work. The latter entailed 'a little field trip' as John worded it.

Today, John came to your place as soon as he got off from base, much like he'd done a few times during the week. 

You didn't fuss about spending less time with him than when he was on leave. Not only was it John's job, but there were no regulations for contacting him, so he called the days you didn't meet. Often, the description of his day was brief, only defined somewhat if anything varied from his typical routine. John was usually more interested in how you were and whether you'd done something interesting. If your day had been equally bland, he enjoyed just listening to whatever was on your mind. Today, however, no phone call replaced his absence.

You and John planned to spend the weekend together at your place, and much like he'd promised, he called you once on his way. But, rather than a simple heads-up, he also informed you he would bring some paperwork, his superiors pushing a last-minute request upon him as he was about to leave. You suspected he was permitted to leave base with the documents through his involvement in the 141, not solely because his response ideally -another word for required- would be reported back tonight. 

You've learned a great deal about how John likes to work, even if you've been fortunate to develop your relationship with him in a particularly deployment-free time window of his. 

He prefers keeping work and home separate, not wanting the two words to bleed together in favour of your relationship. John explained why when you didn't understand his frustration about bringing some work with him back home during your earlier call.

Deployments cut into your shared time as it fits, the two of you having to work around it rather than the other way around. Therefore, he intends to limit work to base to savour your time while on active duty or ahead of a leave. If that meant staying a day or so longer after returning from a mission where logistics needed to be taken care of, as he'd done during the summer and your first extended period apart, he said he would make that choice. And if there's an increased load of executive planning and paperwork due to an upcoming operation, his approach is the same.

He explained that, in the past, he'd very much blurred the lines, seeing how being alone and doing nothing for long periods left him restless. But with you in the picture, John tried to balance it. And just like that, you understood his dilemma tonight. He didn't want to make it a habit: filling the time he spent with you working.

You'd tried to compromise, not that you technically could, as he needed to finish his report no matter what. But, you tried to ease John's mind, telling him that sometimes it happened, just like it probably would for you. That was why you also proposed spending time in each other's company by working on your separate stuff, so he didn't feel like he took time away from you. 

For you, that was just fine. It had already been an informal workday for you, meaning no meetings and no contact with clients, simply organising stuff and getting ahead on projects for the upcoming week. Continuing with that for a bit longer was no problem.

Your sluggish day of labour was apparent, as you hadn't even changed out of your sleeping shirt. Neither had you scampered to get a pair of pants when John knocked on your door, favouring to simply greeting him as you were.

He'd been surprised at seeing your state of undressed, rather bare-legged with only underwear beneath his black t-shirt, one of those he left behind earlier during the week. 

Though not surprised like him, you were as delighted as all the other days he'd stopped by, spoiled rotten with seeing him dressed like this.

Like most days this week, that implied some getup per military standard. Today, John wore fitted cargo pants and an army sweater that got the quarter-zip open, offering a view of the tight-fitted shirt beneath it.

He'd greeted you in his same old fashion, a 'hello, love' as he stepped forward and over the threshold to meet you with a kiss. What followed, however, was a hummed 'can get used to bein' greeted like this' against your lips as he parted from you. 

He'd ushered you backwards to let him enter and hide you from any potential neighbours passing by your entrance to see your scantily clad figure.

You didn't object as he closed the door behind him and put down his bag before kneeling to unlace his heavy boots. Instead, your eyes had flittered over his haunched form as he rucked loose his laces before standing straight again, hooking the back of his shoes beneath his toes and stepping out of them. 

He'd followed you into your living room then, deciding to sit opposite you to avoid disturbing the corner you'd set up on the couch, where your computer and blue-light glasses waited. 

Currently, your laptop rests on a pillow in your lap. The glasses you'd invested in, purely because of the copious amount of time you spent before a screen through work, resting on the bridge of your nose. Yet, you're currently using neither as you should. 

The same black standby screen stares at you now as when you'd gone to greet John when he arrived two hours ago. And, your glasses don't serve their purpose of shielding your vision from electronic lights, concerning your attention is directed towards the burly figure of a man sitting so leisurely opposite you.

You hadn't seen John in his work clothes many times. Technically, you'd never seen him geared up and probably never would. So, the closest thing you would get was the standard dressing code he needed to adhere to on base. Up until this week, you'd barely even seen that.

Whereas now and for a few months ahead, the military would cling to him whenever he came around straight from work and spent the night, leaving in a similar-styled fashion in the morning concerning active duty often meant early mornings on base for John, either for a workout regime, meetings or supervising cadets. Between those instances, while unwinding with you, he changed into something more comfortable.

That was why your time of admiring John in these clothes was brief. And yet today, you got to indulge in one of the considerably fewer instances when he didn't immediately change after greeting you and borrowing your shower. In fact, this night was a total break in the routine.

Your eyes drop to the bag beside the armchair John occupies. 

He'd said he would take his usual post-work-freshening-up shower after finishing the most pressing report. But, he'd gotten stuck in the typical workflow that was difficult to break, reaching for another map of documents rather than the bag resting by his feet. Maybe you should've reminded him, but you didn't. 

The honourable reason? You didn't want to disturb John when noting the pile of documents to read had staggered to a measly two compared to the stack he'd brought. The selfish reason making your attention stray considerably more than his laser-focused one? You wanted to savour his appearance a bit longer. 

You knew the visible neckline of the shirt beneath his sweater teased about what was underneath, namely a compression shirt fitted to accentuate John's muscled torso rather than hide it, a sight drool-worthy by itself. But the jumper wasn't a villain for hiding it. In your opinion, it added to it, making the blue-eyed man appear even broader than he already was, as if he could envelop you simply with his frame, tucking you within the expanse of his shoulders. 

Despite how John managed to look so good in clothes produced for durability rather than fashion, it wasn't necessarily the clothes making you unable to rip your eyes off of him.

As always, your eyes drag over John's body until your gaze latches onto the embroiders littered over the sweater. 

On the upper part of his chest, in an easily read, nothing fancy, standard military font, the precise writing of Price is visible. The lettering, placed square in sight on his right pectoral, stands out in a lighter blue text rather than the dark navy composing the sweater. On the opposite side, in the same-letter style, SAS. Sewn onto the right arm of his jumper is a badge-like British flag, so his unit's emblem. Symbols stating his rank also adorn his clothing, marks that your civilian eye probably wouldn't be able to interpret if you didn't already know he was a Captain.

That is why you like seeing John in his work attire. 

The air around him changes. His typical calm stoicism tenfolds, acting as a reminder that his presence demands respect. 

It wasn't a shift that screamed for attention, not hollered as a command to notice. You believe it's because it simply blends with John's personality at home so well. Either his work-life had engrained it into his DNA, so it always was a part of him no matter where he went. Or those traits had always been his fortes, even before serving in the military. You didn't know for sure which was correct. 

Nonetheless, John's calm, secure and disciplined persona reached new heights. He looked like a man in charge. 

It was almost mortifying how affected you got when he dressed like this. And yet, it was just something about John in dark blue or army green attires, with his rank so underwhelmingly stated but so evidently sensed, that made a part of you quiver in excitement.

Yeah, that Captain John Price was a weakness of yours was clear as fucking day.

"You doing good over there, Captain?" Blue eyes shift from the papers he held over his lap to meet your gaze. 

You always revel in how swiftly his attention shifts to you when you use his rank. You didn't do it often. After all, at home, he wasn't Captain. But sometimes, even you used the alias. 

"Mm, all good, love". John's answer was slow, eyes flickering over you before nodding, his eyes falling to the paper before him again.

"The Captain fancying a cup of tea?" 

This time, John didn't move his head. He only glanced up, almost watching you through his eyebrows. "Wouldn't mind". The reply was short, his voice rough. Not grumpy, annoyed or anything like that. Simply profound.

You flash him a smile, pushing your computer aside and setting your glasses on the keyboard. As you stand from the couch, you stretch your legs. 

You catch John's eyes lowering and you bet he didn't abstain from trailing them down your bare legs as you jostle the tingles out of them. Smiling to yourself, you head into the kitchen.

Fine, sometimes you may use his rank solely for his reaction. 

You argue he shouldn't react like that. It's understandable he barely reacts to it when the boys of 141 use it just as much as his government name when addressing him. He must be used to it. So sure, surprise could be the reason in your instance. At the same time, it shouldn't, regarding it holds no value, no substance, when you use his rank.

Still, you've noticed it seemingly carries some weight.

The most common reaction you'd gathered was how swiftly you earned his attention. Nearly every time, you suppressed a grin at how it worked like clockwork. A sharp flicker of his eyes, gaze intense. You've also noticed how his head cock, eyes seemingly searching yours before they often slipped down your figure as he returned to whatever had his attention previously. And then it was how John eventually answered you. Sometimes, he cleared his throat before speaking, others not. Both choices provide a reply of comparable nature. Without exceptions, his voice was deep. 

John's smokey, baritone voice was always pleasant to listen to. There were no edges, even though he wasn't afraid to remain silent between his sentences. And when he filled those with the occasional hum, a purr threatened to spill from your lips to how the low cord melted like liquid gold into your ears. And yet, his voice usually became gruffer when he spoke as a Captain in a professional setting. 

You'd registered it when he once had taken a phone-call to book a time for a meeting with someone named Laswell or when he reprimanded one of the guys in a borderline-serious manner when you met them at a pub during one of their parallel leaves. The firmness in those deeply spoken sentences wasn't present when you dropped a 'Captain' while talking to him. 

But there was something else. Something under your skin just begging you to consider it's awfully close to a particular lustful drawl of John's. The one you regard as utterly and painfully arousing. If not for the truth, then for your lustful desires.

You lean against the counter as you wait for the water to boil, arms crossed over your chest. 

Facing the living room, you watch the only fascinating thing there. 

John just about placed the stack of papers he'd been reading back into its corresponding map, leaning forward to position it on top of the rest. Leaning back again, you notice how he sighs from the quick movement of his chest while opening the last lacklustre folder beside him. Leaving it open, John takes out the reports by gripping its stapled corner, swiftly picking up the reading again. As he does, he notches his thumb beneath his jaw, index finger swiping back and forth over his lower lip, brows pulling together. 

If not for the kettle signalling it's ready, you would've gotten stuck there, rooted in place as you take in the sight of the incredibly handsome man, your handsome man, so engrossed in his work. 

Preparing your respective beverages is easy. The task is something you've done countless times by now. So, within minutes, you're heading towards the seating arrangement with your respective mugs.

John notices your presence before his attention shifts to you, noticeable from how he pulls his stretched-out leg back towards him so you can step between his seat and the coffee table. Yet those blues flicker to you with an appreciative look right before you turn to settle his cup of tea on the tabletop. 

You set the mug down momentarily, reaching for a protective coaster. Placing the circular piece of wood close to the cup, you rearrange it to rest atop it instead. 

That could've been it. You could've just wandered back to your seat, either in an attempt to work or admire the view again. But no.

"There you go, Captain". You shift to face John with an innocent smile, gesturing to the cup from where steam curls upwards, filling the closest proximity of air with a spicy but soft scent of herbs. His hand has fallen from his jaw. Now, it rests on top of the folder at the armrest as he gazes at you, blues-eyes truly observing you. 

You don't know why the seemingly innocent eye contact makes you squirm. But from how John watches you, a feverish sensation rushes through your body, heating you from the inside under the scrutiny of his gaze.

The concoction of having John dressed like he is, watching you as he does and your lecherous imagination does wonders to lighten your belly on fire. You bite your lip, about to return to your seat, when John sits up, abruptly halting your attempt.

The swift thought of 'he's reaching for his mug' is wiped away immediately as he instead reaches for you. 

He circles the back of your neck with his big hand and tugs you down enough to meet him in a kiss. A soft, surprised noise vibrates against his lips, your eyes widening in reaction to his unexpected action, as opposed to his, which slips close.

"Such a darlin' to me, you know that?" John hums the word against your lips. And even if you like doing these small things for him because you see how much he enjoys them, your breath hitches, making John's eyes flutter open. 

When meeting your still wide-eyed expression, his lips bow upwards beneath his beard before his hand falls from your neck. This time, he reaches for the mug. 

As you straighten, your cup clutched against your stomach, John slouches backwards again.

"It's nothing", you reply to the man who looks too fucking indecent for still being fully dressed from the way his thighs fall outwards.

"It's everythin'", John insists. Your heart makes a dangerous leap as his baritone voice travels straight down. 

The way he's watching you doesn't help at fucking all as you feel a surging need to squeeze your legs together, something that would be embarrassingly noticeable from John's position. 

Rather than answering, mouth incredibly dry all of a sudden, you only return his appreciation with a small smile.

That his eyes follow you when you head back to your seat is apparent, your heart continuing its elevated rhythm with each step you take and his attention on your back. But when you sit down, facing him again, he's back to reading, the mug resting against his thigh.

Much like John, you should go back to work. But you don't need to look at your computer to know your last sliver of motivation has disappeared. Your attention undividedly on something else entirely.

You shuffle in your seat, one leg bent and resting on the cushioned seat beneath you, the other pulled close to your body with your foot planted on the couch. It makes you lean slightly to the side and the pillows you'd stacked for a makeshift edge towards the couch's middle.

Unable not to, your eyes flitter over John's form as you nurse your drink. 

His legs spread wide, trapping your gaze to glide over his crotch more than once, especially as he readjusts his position, hips doing that slight upwards jut as he makes himself more comfortable. You also follow his action of occasionally raising the mug to his mouth, his eyes never leaving the paper as he does. 

You watch as he sets down the documents on his leg to switch to the next side with the same hand, not desiring to go through the action of leaning forward, putting down the cup of tea, only to retrieve it to situate himself again.

Eyes remaining on the cup, you remark how John's big hand wraps around it, having no trouble encasing more than half of it. You compare it to how you hold your cup. One hand grabs the ear while your other hand curves along the opposing side.

When he raises the mug to his mouth, you follow the move, gaze lingering on his face even though he lowers it not soon after. 

You map the line of his beard, the purse of his lips, and how his eyes move from the left to the right as he follows the sentences on the paper.

And then, John's eyes flicker upwards, catching your blatant staring. Amusement flickers to life in those blues when you don't even try to play it off before he adverts his gaze down to the paper. 

"You're starin', love". John remarks. The cup of tea is brought to his lips as his attention remains on the document.

"Just enjoying the view", you shrug. Not untrue. 

John's brows arch. Not much later, as if wanting to finish a sentence, his head tilts upwards to look at you. "That so?"

"Mhm", you flash him a brief smile before you raise your mug to your lips, sipping its contents. His eyes narrow briefly. 

Even though you can't think of anything odd in your reaction, John apparently does. 

"Is there somethin' more?"

Your heart jumps. "No, you're free to continue working", you try deflecting John's attempt at making you explain what's on your mind. Apparently, you only succeeded in catching his attention more.

"I'm done". John states, making your brows jump and eyes flicker downwards, not having noticed he was on the last page of a considerably thinner stack of papers, unlike the previous ones. 

"Weren't you instructed to report back?" Your gaze shifts back to his face.

"Taken some notes. I'll send a mail later before goin' to bed". John replies promptly, meanwhile restoring the papers in their proper order. As he places the stack back in its map and drops it on top of the other finished ones on the table, he speaks. "Now I want to hear about what you're tip-toein' around 'cause it doesn't seem like nothin'". 

"No, really, it's nothing important". 

John cocks his head, brows raising in a silent inquiry.

You refuse to believe it's the 'men in uniform' curse amongst civilians. You know that's not the case, seeing how you don't find all soldiers good-looking just because, only John. Even so, you detest the thought of seeming disrespectful, fearing you reduced his career path to a mere point of attraction. It was one thing allowing it to fuel your imagination. But to admit it aloud? To John? Yeah, no.

You reach for the case of your glasses, popping it open with ease and inserting the specs. Placing them on top of your now closed laptop, you scoop them up and stand, about to discard the items in your bedroom.

The action was not impulsive. You always put your device on charge once John arrives. Today, it understandably changed to when he finished the reports he'd brought. Yet you didn't get that far, stopped unexpectedly by his voice.

"Sit". Your body stalls, brows raising. When you don't do as John says, his head cocks, fingers rapping against the armrest as he motions to the seat you just stood from with a nod. This time, you follow his request. "Talk to me, love. What's on your mind?"

Your fingers clutch your computer briefly before you reluctantly set it down on your coffee table. You sip your tea, searching for your words.

Upon your silence, stalling, an urging 'hm?' stems from John.

"I just, you know, think you look good today".

"Do I look any different today than otherwise?" He inquires. You don't think he means to interrogate you, but it feels just like that from how he watches you closely from his seat. It makes you squirm, raising your mug to your lips again before you answer.

"Well, you got those on".

John hums softly, a sound of acknowledgement. And, ever as keen, he figures out what your haphazard motions to his attire imply. "You like the clothes". It's more of a statement than a question, but you give him a nod anyway.

"They look good on you".

"That's what got you so worked up?"

"I'm not-"

"You are", he muses, cutting off your sentence as he leans forward, forearms resting on his knees as he places his mug on the coaster. "Those glasses you're religiously stubborn about using have been more off your face than not despite that laptop of yours being right in front of your face", he points out. 

Your brows pull together, lips parting as a protest isn't far away. But John beats you to it.

"No need denyin', I've noticed you starin' at me more than that screen of yours. Then we can't forge 'bout your teasin'".

This time, your brows genuinely furrow. "I haven't teased you?".

His head tilts to the side. "No? Could think I never left base with how much you've used my rank tonight, love". 

Oh, oh. John thinks your use of his rank is teasing. So it must mean something different when you use it. Not just in your imagination, then. Regardless of discovering this, you don't know how to react to John's admittance. You still feel like a mouse being toyed with by a cat.

He watches you expectantly as if waiting for you to speak up. Instead, your fingers only rap against your mug before raising it again.

You tip your cup, yet no liquid reaches your lips. Your eyes flicker downwards as you lower it, noticing its emptiness. 

The nervous sips you'd taken off your tea have apparently drained it quicker than you anticipated. 

Much like a mouse making a break for it each time the cat releases it, you don't hesitate to stand and head into the kitchen to discard your mug, seizing the chance to escape John's heavy gaze and probing for enough time you don't fumble for an answer.

What you don't expect is the footsteps following you into the kitchen. But you should've. The cat never lets its prey get too far away.

Naturally, you look over your shoulder.

John moves so assuredly. There's a slight sway to his hips, strides not hurried despite covering the same distance as you in a much more rapid fashion. Confidence, he oozes it from the very way he carries himself.

There's no denying that such a mass moving with such practised ease is on the verge of terrifying. But the thrill harbours an indisputable excitement, especially as your eyes briefly meet John's blue ones, calm but bright with intrigue.

You turn forward as you reach the kitchen counter, putting your mug in the sink, attempting to hide how he affects you. But believing you could hide from an elite soldier in plain sight is foolish. 

The hairs on your neck stand when John steps up behind you.

He sets his mug beside yours before his hands settle on the counter. With one hand at either side of you, his shoulders haunch to eclipse yours, making your heart thump in your chest.

"Indulge me. What about the clothes you like so much it got you behavin' like this?" 

"Uhm-". Your thoughts screech to a halt as you flail for something to say. Admitting just how much John in these clothes affects you brushes on mortifying. "The way it fits you, I guess", you settle on in the end.

"You guess?". John repeats close to your ear.

Pride and a certain level of amusement roll off of him in waves, seeping right through your back, worming itself to your front only to nestle in your chest. Rather than installing the same emotions in you, they fuel your desire and jittery nerves.

"Love?" He gently encourages you to detail your answer, causing you to bite your inner cheek, rolling the meat between your molars. You may be tentative to admit your inner thoughts. But, it's still John with his incredibly calm and soothing self that puts you at ease and finally makes you relent.

"They just make you feel stronger, more authoritative-"

"Authoritative?" If you would've faced John, his inquisitive look would've met you. And yet, you don't even need to, feeling it burn into the side of your head as his ducked head angles towards you. You see it out of your peripheral, how he gazes at you, but you persistently stare directly forward as you give him a slight nod.

You swallow, worrying that you overstepped as you tried explaining the indecent thoughts wrecking your brain without spewing their true nature as blatantly as they arise. 

Assuming that's the reason for John's momentary silence, he surprises you when he finally speaks.

"You know, love", he hums, airy and amused. Your eyes drop, following his hands as they trail up the stone counter until they settle on top of yours. His fingers worms in between your slender ones. "I have noticed how remarkably much you've been staring, how handsy you've been when I come home like this". 

Body lightening on fire, a warm rush sweeps through you, the sound of blood suddenly pounding noticeably in your ears as you duck your head. Had you? You hadn't even thought so.

"Nothing to fluster about".

"Well, I do", you bite back, but there's no venom to your words, only embarrassment that you hadn't hidden your desire well enough, even if it was to an elite soldier you'd lost to. The mouse would forever lose to the cat.

"Why?"

"Because it's wrong, John. Just because you fit too bloody good dressed like a Captain, it shouldn't turn me on this fucking much". Thank god you're not looking at him. You would've sunken through the floor.

"I remember you mentioned somethin' like that the night we met". 

"I said that you suit being a Captain, not that it turns me on". John's exhale borders on a groan and your brows knit together when you catch it.

"Remember you called me that as well". John brushes past the admittance in your sentence as if it's nothing. "Caught me off-guard the first time". He nudges your head from the side, hands tightening over yours. 

"Why?" You breathe, realising his voice has dropped into a husky depth. It only did that when his arousal stirred, which sparked your curiosity enough to repress your humiliation.

"Sounded so wrong from you, a civvie callin' me by rank. But I couldn't deny I liked it". John's face falls into your neck, placing a kiss beneath your ear as he drops a fraction of his weight against your back. Still, it's enough to cage you to the counter and feel his hardening cock against your rear. Your eyes widen. "And then you said it while I was stuffin' that cunt of yours. Bloody hell, I almost lost my head when you called me Captain all stunningly dishevelled beneath me". A surprised gasp rips from your throat at John's words curl along the shell of your ear while he shoves his growing erection against you.

"What are you saying?" Your chest heaves at the end of your sentence as John rubs himself against the plush swell of your ass from behind. 

"I'm tellin' you, despite how wrong it is, that I like when you call me Captain". He husks into your ear, using your wording from earlier. 

John steadily grinds against you, pressing you further into the counter's edge. Instinctually, you arch against him, but one of his hands swiftly grabs your hip, forcing you down. 

"Love, I wanna try somethin' out", he hums. "Tell me if it gets too much. Understood?" There's no hesitancy in John's voice, only an alluring reassurance and passion that pikes your interest.

"Yeah, alright". 

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, John, I understand". You whine, curiosity eating you from the inside, yet he only tsks at you.

"You know what to call me". You inhale sharply. Fuck, could he be talking about? He is. You swallow, mind reeling as you realise John's alluding to something you've only entertained as fantasy. And yet, his rank solely remains a heavy, dirty thought. "Come on, love, know you want to". 

You swallow, eyes wide and staring forward. John must sense your hesitancy as his hand rucks the shirt you're wearing upwards, baring your ass. Attempting to coax you, he shoves his bulge straight into your scantily covered pussy.

"I want you to say it, m'not goin' any further until you do. Both of us must want this". That does the trick. You wouldn't pass up on this chance.

"C-Captain".

"Whole sentence, love".

"I understand, Captain".

"Good girl". He praises you. "Now, you'll take what I give".

"Oh", you breathe out as a violent shiver runs down your spine and the muscles attaching to the back of your head quiver. 

John's not only igniting something so perfectly inside your body. He also flips a switch in your head with his commanding voice, precisely the one that made his authoritative nature as a Captain so attractive. 

"From your reaction, it seems you don't mind bein' ordered around". John breathes into your ear. "Is that correct?"

"Don't mind". 

The man behind you releases a hum as he tests your reply by nudging his foot against your right ankle. You can feel him smirk at how you react, widening your stance one foot at a time without any resistance. Even when John presses himself against your back and continues forward by bending over you until you're flat against the kitchen counter, you don't resist him.  

"So pliant, aren't you?" One of his hands releases yours, yet you continue pressing it against the stone. His fingers trail up your now bent arm, over your shoulder and along the curve of your body until his fingers curl around your waist.

You nod swiftly, only catching the faintest reflection of the movement even though your cheek rests against the polished stone surface. He chuckles at your hasty reply, the sound cracking up the length of your spine.

"Mhm, stay like that now". John instructs, standing straight with a squeeze to your hand that, up until now, remained intertwined with his.  

His fingers run along your clothed spine until it reaches your bared lower vertebral, then your ass until it dips between your legs from behind, pressing into the seam of your underwear.

"Fuckin' hell, you've gotten this wet already? So desperate for your Captain, eh?" You whimper as he pushes against the damp fabric, the material pressing into your folds. 

"Yes, John-Captain!" You correct yourself as he slaps your pussy upon the slip-up. The tap of his palm doesn't hurt but acts as a reminder. Nevertheless, it sends a jolt of pleasure up your spine, making you squirm.

"Two rules, love", he remarks. "One, for now, it's Captain. Two, if you don't keep still, I'll stop touchin' you, leavin' you all pent up, just like this, right here", he makes clear. As if daring you to obey, a gentle test calculating how much you really want this, his thumb shallowly probes against your core. Your eyes snap shut, teeth digging into your bottom lip, a forced exhale escaping your lungs as you concentrate on not rocking backwards while fabricating a reply.

"Y-yes, Captain".

As if content with your words and actions, John steps away. Despite the loss of contact, you remain in your position. 

Your pulse thrums as you listen to John, picking up on the shift of clothes and the sound of a zipper. Your anticipation skyrockets as he doesn't hurry his movements, taking his sweet time before he touches you again. When he does, he pulls down your panties until the elastic band digs into the middle of your thighs.

A shuddering breath escapes your lungs when nothing separates John's fingers from your exposed wetness. He runs two fingers up and down almost leisurely until one digit firmly pushes against your clit in a circular sweep. The sudden attention to your throbbing bundle of nerves sends neurons flying.

You don't even know on what scientific level it's possible to stop an involuntary reaction, but just as you feel your lower back muscles tightening, you slam the flatness of your palm against the counter with a 'shit' as you try.

You wouldn't count it as moving, but you did twitch upon the surprising pressure against your clit. And as John pulls away, placing his hand on the small of your back, you whine in defeat, knowing he caught it too.

"What was that?". 

"Nothing, nothing, please, Captain, I'll be good". You don't even realise what you say yourself as you plead with John. He couldn't leave you there. You would possibly explode.

He only tuts, hand pressing firmer against your spine. Your heart drops for a second until he speaks. "I'll let you of this once".

"Thank you". John groans behind you, curse breathed beneath his breath as his character breaks for a moment, caught off guard by your rushed response. It's not long, but it's a reminder that it's still John behind you.

A swift pressure change against your spine indicates he's gathered himself again before he picks up where he left off.

His finger starts trailing up and down your folds again, but you remain in your position in spite of how your legs quiver in want, a desire for more. 

Your wet, sopping, John's digit coated swiftly in your slick as he teases you.

He toys back and forth before his finger slips down. This time you've already braced yourself when he circles your clit. You force yourself to hold still as you whine at the contact, wanting nothing more than to rock backwards.

Noticing your struggle and stubbornness, John's free hand grabs your hip, kneading the flash with gentle squeezes. "Mhm, just like that, love, doin' so good for me".

His baritone rolls over your back, making you shudder, skin knotting with goosebumps. He never once stops the slow movement of his finger, causing you to clench around nothing continuously, especially as he starts flicking the tip of his finger.

You press your forehead against the counter upon the small, sharp jolts of electricity firing pleasure through your nervous system. But it's so fleeting it doesn't have an opportunity to build into anything damning as John pulls away from your clit, falling back to running his digit along your folds.

John stays clear from your throbbing bundle of nerves, rotating his hand as he teasingly concentrates more and more attention on your entrance. You release an anticipated breath as he brushes over it repeatedly until you bite your lip. You want to tilt your hips to make him slip inside. But you withhold the urge, thankfully reaping the rewards before you get desperate enough that your body acts on instinct.

John puts the slightest pressure behind the dragging motion. At first, only the tip of his finger enters you before he pulls it back, doing the same thing a few times until he pushes its entirety inside. 

You moan even though it's not nearly enough to stretch you so deliciously you feel full. But it just feels good having something sliding in and out of you. Though one soon turns to two when John pulls out, a second finger prodding your pussy before both slip inside.

Squelching noises fill the air as he fingers you, his other digits pressing against your ass. You pant, unable to keep your noises at bay as he finally relents somewhat in his fleeting touches and indulges you with some relief. But it's not nearly enough. 

The pace remains slow, his fingers imitating a stroking motion even inside you rather than plunging deep and fast or wriggling forcefully to spur an orgasm. Now, you only feel your high building oh so slowly that it's frustrating how flat the exponential curve is.

And yet, as if projected from your body, you can see the scene you're a part of and find it unbelievably arousing. 

John, with his cock freed from his pants and occasionally brushing against your rear, otherwise fully clothed, almost lazily pumping his fingers in and out of your hole as you bend over the counter, panties around your legs, doing your damnedest to keep fucking still.

You moan at the image, hands pressing flat against the counter before curling into fists. It's so fucking erotic that you feel John's fingers suddenly sliding more easily in and out despite the way you clench around them.

"You're practically drippin', love", he teases you, fingers leaving your entrance for a few seconds, not hovering far from your pussy, until they return with a press against your clit, a new chillier slickness coating them. The acknowledgement that you're wet enough it nearly dribbles from you wears your patience to the breaking point.

"Captain, I can't take it, fuck me already". John doesn't reprimand you for your demand, only chuckles as he steps close, cock pressing against your asscheek. 

His fingers have dropped from your clit, but his touch is soon replaced with the head of his cock as he guides it to your folds, running it up and down to coat himself in your slick. 

You let out a shuddering moan as John pushes slightly against your entrance, tip breaching your hole, only to slip out and repeat the movement. Regardless that he's in charge, your frustrated cry is all it takes for him to push into you properly with an amused huff that sharply pivots into a grunt.

"Yeah, just like that- arch for me… good girl…". John groans, and you take his urge to meet his thrust that you're finally free to move as you wish. 

You gape as he bottoms out in one slow press, hips pressed flush against your ass. You feel his legs tremble, his hands flexing on your hips, but he stays still for your sake of accustoming to his girth.

"So good for your Captain". You whimper at his words, making him chuckle breathily. "Oh, you like that, eh?" He feigns ignorance of what he'd learnt: that you absolutely do. He grabs a fistful of your ass. "Dirty girl…". You gasp as he spanks your rear, the smacking sound making you clench around him.

"Need you to move". You whine as you wriggle your hips. But John bends over you, burly frame forcing your upper body flush to the cool tabletop.

"Come on, love". He scolds huskily against the shell of your ear, warm breath cascading past your cheek. Parts of his hands grip your ass while the rest cover your hips, the meat spilling between his fingers. But he remains still, deep inside you, not moving until the proper phrase falls from your lips. 

It's easier to give in this time, having been shoved over the edge previously, ignoring the immorality of using his rank in this setting and whatever pride left in your body. Mentally, at least. 

Physically, it takes you a few seconds, preoccupied with basking in what's happening. Bent over the counter with the biting kiss from the cold stone dulled from the shirt you borrowed from John. Yet the harshness from the unmoving material doesn't fail to make itself reminded against your soft body despite the shielding material. Effortlessly sandwiching you is the similarly firm body of John, considerably warmer but still effective in immobilising you.

"Captain, please". His rank is honey, saccharine and dripping effortlessly from your tongue once you find your voice through the arousal. "Please move".

"Mm, that's it", he croons, granting you the movement you want as he straightens, not before kissing your clothed shoulder. Exegrated to make up for the fabric separating you.

It starts with calculated thrusts that make you keen and almost roll back and forth on your feet from the steady and slow pace. Then John picks up the speed, rutting against you with powerful snaps of his hips. Your fingers scramble, finding purchase on the counter's edge, curling over the side to have some semblance of grounding force.

It doesn't take long before you moan unabashedly at each stroke, fluttering around his cock as he works his length in and out of you, driving his hips forward and back in a steady beat. Along the erotic sound of skin slapping and wet noises is the filth spewing from his lips.

"This what you wanted, eh?" He gruffs. "With all those looks?" He gets a moan in response as you turn your head so your cheeks rest against the counter, watching him through the corner of your eye. 

John's jaw hangs slack, hair falling along his forehead as he must be staring at where the two of you connect. He looks raptured, almost dazed. He said he wanted this as well and by the looks of it... yeah, he really did. You don't know how you haven't noticed. But, fortunately, John sets your knack of reading people to shame compared to his skill. 

You're snapped out of your thoughts as one of his hands leaves your hips and you see him raise it at an angle. You whine, arching towards it as much as possible with the unbudging surface beneath you. It drags his eyes upwards, noticing how you're watching him. 

His lips tug upwards, eyes never leaving you as his palm swats your ass. A reactionary moan spills from your lip as your legs press against the outer side of his thighs at the sensation, brows knitting together from the stinging pleasure.

It spurs John to rut harder, causing your body to fucking sing as your head gets steadily dizzier.

He releases a breathless chuckle at your inability to conjure anything apart from keening sounds and guttural moans as your body goes lax, eyes fluttering close, body jolting at the new pace he sets.

But he doesn't appear much more put together as he witnesses how you allow yourself to let go, giving the reins entirely to him. 

You catch how John's sentence breaks into fractions, groans and heady sounds spilling from his lips between sentences to rile you up even further. In the end he can't release much more than growling sounds as he folds, resting his chest against your back, using his weight to forcefully push his hips against yours, making his balls tap against your clit each time.

John barely pulls himself back enough to push forwards again, but it's enough to repeatedly batter the head of his cock against the spot making your legs tingly and toes flex before curling. 

Once again, your hands search for something to grasp upon the pleasure coursing through your body. One manages to bend backwards over your shoulder, catching the lapel of John's jumper, and the other slides feebly across the smooth countertop. 

Your orgasm is building, breaths turning stunted, muscles seizing.

You feel John's rhythm stutter as you clench more frequently and reactionary in response to his ruts as you near your release. His head ducks to rest between your shoulder-blades, warm puffs of air seeping through the oversized shirt you're wearing. His teeth bite down on the excess fabric, grunts vibrating against you. 

John's getting close, throbbing violently inside you, hands digging into your hips even further. When he angles his thrusts downwards, a dirty grind at the end of each penetration, he hits so many pleasurable spots that you release an unprompted cry.

You don't need much, so close to your edge that your head thrash that you wedge your hand beneath your forehead to not knock yourself out cold. So when John grits a heady sentence through his teeth and the fabric trapped between them, that's it. 

"Come on, love, be a good girl to your Captain. Wanna feel you squeeze 'round me".

Your eyes snap close as you jerk against him, ass pressing upwards before involuntarily trying to escape his persistent thrusts as the pleasure explodes. But your hipbones are already aching from the counter and you can't flee how John continues to cram his girthy cock into your twitching hole, so you just let him extend your orgasm until he reaches his with a growl. 

John curls around you, hips pressing snuggly against your rear as he spurts his release deep. You feel his warm spend inside you, releasing a shattered moan as your eyelids flutter but, in the end, remain closed.

The stone isn't as cold against your forehead anymore, the surface likely warming from your panting exhales.

John's chest rises and falls against your back. He massages your hips almost unconsciously, small flexes of his fingers. Your hand, previously fisting his jumper, falls to your left hip, squeezing his wrist before your fingers graze over his knuckles and card between digits, easing his grip. It seems to bring him out of his post-orgasmic rouse as he softens the action until he stills completely, now cradling the likely-to-be-discoloured area.

"Fuck", he exhales as he releases your shirt from his teeth. The wet spot where his saliva has sept into the fabric is significant as it falls back against your skin. 

You reply with a soft confirming sound, craning your neck to glance at John. 

His face has risen and is now close to yours. However, what catches you off-guard isn't the proximity but his gaze. It's dark and glittering, a spent smile noticeable through his facial hair.

He kisses you despite the awkward angle. The hair that's

fallen out of place and endearingly covers his forehead brushes yours. 

The interaction is brief before he rises, bringing you with him from the forwards-bent position that's not as comfortable for either of you when the lust-driven haze fades. In the movement, John slips out of you before stepping back. Not soon after, he pulls your underwear into place. 

The hem of his shirt drops around your thighs once you stand again and it doesn't catch on John's hand. You run a hand through your hair, letting it fall to the kitchen counters, noticing your balance is still wobbly. Your other hand assist your balance by resting on the kitchen counter as you take a moment to collect yourself. 

You take a moment to collect yourself before you turn to face John with a sigh. He's just popped the button on his cargos back in place but doesn't care about tucking his t-shirt into the waistband of his pants again.

As John runs a hand through his hair, the other naturally falls to your hip to steady you as his gaze locks with yours.

"All good?" His voice is gritty, pleasure still intertwined with the soft check-in.

"Mm, yeah", you smile sluggishly, your voice breathy. "You?" 

"All good. I wasn't too much?" There's a glimmer of concern in his eyes, one you shoo away immediately.

"No, god, you were not too much, John, you were... really good". You reach out to touch John, hands slipping between the layers of fabric on his torso. He melts under your touch, relaxing the arm that had raised so he could tame his hair, letting it curve around your neck. With the back of your head nestled perfectly in the crook of his arm, he tugs you closer to him.

"Didn't know you had such a thing for men in uniform, love". He chuckles, lightening the mood as he looks down at you. 

"You in uniform". 

"Compliments your take on a gallantry medal?" 

"Mhm", you hum against his lips. "My Captain deserves them". You cheekily use the nickname you'd moaned shamelessly only minutes prior, making him huff an amused laugh that puffs against your mouth.

"Not gonna hear the end of that, eh?"

"At ease, soldier, I'm only gonna use it when I wanna get a rile out of you". You press a kiss against John's lips and he reciprocates it. In the end, a smile splits yours open, one you greet him with as you lean away, creating a bit of space between you. "But what would they think of that? Esteemed Captain Price with a captain kink". He pinches your rear, and you squeal, a sound that fades into a giggle as the hand previously on the counter settles on your hip. 

"Watch it". The edges of John's eyes are still creased in the corners as he says it, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Just curious", you defend yourself with a shrug. "But I can't say I'm surprised you like the power-trip". You give the blue-eyed man a playful purse of your lips. 

He cock his head, brows arching. "Why?"

"Being a good Captain must come from somewhere. You like ordering people around", you muse.

"Delighted to be your entertainment". John exhales through his nose.

You try to lean up to kiss his furrowed expression away, but by tightening his arm around your head and leaning backwards, he avoids your attempt.

"Don't be pouty. You seemed to enjoy it just as much as I did. Admitted you do". You chide John lightly and he drops the faux offence, delight and piked interest present in his eyes.

"Mm, 'bout that. Didn't know you liked bein' ordered around that much". You smile shyly, head notching forwards, not far from resting against his chest from your closeness.

"We all have our moments of something, don't we?" You look up at John through your lashes. 

His arms slide down until his hand envelops your neck. A hum fills the air before he leans down, pressing his lips against yours briefly, soothing any possible apprehension in your answer framed as a question rather than a statement.

"Would you like me to do it more?" You crack into a smile at his question, eyes fluttering open to meet his blue eyes.

"Yeah, I would like to. I-I adore when you're sweet on me, John, but I also like when you're rough. Just, you know, take what you want sometimes, do as you please". You shrug, catching how John releases the air from his lungs in something akin to wonder and desire.

"You trust me enough?"

"If your men trust you on the field, I think I can trust you in this situation". 

John lets out a long groan, head tipping backwards as his eyes shut tightly. "Don't bring the lads into this, don't want that association".

You chuckle in earnest. "What? You're their Captain first and foremost".

"Not this type", he huffs, head falling forward. Looking at you again, the hand on the side of your neck slides to your hip, both hands now anchored there.

"Alright, alright. Only want you to myself anyways". You lean up, planting a series of kisses against John's lips until he reciprocates, the frown disappearing from his brows.

"Already got me, love". His voice softens, making you smile in return. 

Just as you're about to reply, the sensation of fluids flowing out of you makes you reactively twitch and clamp your legs together, hands flexing on his stomach. John notices, suppressing a smirk as he fishes your hands from beneath his jumper.

"Let's get you cleaned up." John enlaces his hand with one of yours, tugging you along as he heads towards your bathroom. "Still need to have that shower".

"You like seeing me wet, don't you?"

"Never said we would shower". John sends you a humoured look over his shoulder, making you roll your eyes. "Watch that attitude of yours. Things like that get you a lesson in discipline in the army". 

"Because that would be my biggest problem and not sleeping with a Captain, who I much rather get disciplined by." You quip with an amused look.

"Careful with what you wish for, love". John returns, the reply accompanied by a wink. As you chuckle with a shake of your head, John pulls you forward and into his side, planting a kiss on the side of your head, effectively ending the conversation as you step into the bathroom.

[thecoolerliauditore]

long post: the neck kisses playlist on joel's spotify is about jimmy (and kind of etho too a little bit)

it's not actually about jimmy it very much is not about jimmy. however I had visions when I listened to it and I know at least one person really wants me to put this into words so

"I Miss Having Sex But At Least I Don't Wanna Die Anymore" is a pretty straightforward song about Awsten Knight's post-break-up life as well as his frustrations with his fanbase.

The feelings post-break-up are described as freeing, hence the title ".. don't wanna die anymore" but the ending of the song hints at some nagging regret despite that, with the desperate repeating mantra of "but I think it's fine, it's cool"

While I don't think all of these songs signify chronology (and some I don't think are literal at all unless c!Joel has some weird daddy issue lore I'm unaware of), I do like to think the start of the playlist calls to pre-3L jimmy/joel, most specifically their relationship in x-life.

In x-life, Joel establishes a totally-not-cult religion he dubs "Jeremyism", Jimmy being his first member after he fails to trick Lizzie into joining. He later gives up his leader title, quote, "for content". Jimmy is unhappy with this development and begs Joel to stay, but Joel refuses. While their relationship in x-life would be hard to define as romantic in any sense, they were clearly fond of eachother before Joel eventually broke away.

Things get a bit hazy here since "for content" doesn't really translate to anything in-universe, but I think it's interesting to note that both the song and Joel mention an audience, specifically one that they feel the need to appease. Whether this is a metaphor or watcher lore or some secret third thing I have no idea but it sure is there 👍

In my mind, it goes like this: Jimmy and Joel meet, they hit it off, Jimmy is affectionate and Joel starts to catch feelings. Joel cuts Jimmy off for making him feel weird.

the second song in the playlist reinforces this, being a much angrier post-break-up song.

While this seems out-of-order (why does the immediate anger come after the song about life after the break-up?), I think it's interesting if you look at it from an angle of this not being fully Joel's feelings towards Jimmy, but Joel's frustration towards himself for messing it up.

with a little bit of frustration being placed on jimmy too:

pictured: joel in third life with a message from jimmy that he very much. does not answer.

personally I like to think Joel held a lot of resentment towards Jimmy in Third Life, both for homophobic reasons (i.e. you made me feel gay and now I'm gonna punish you for it) and for jealousy reasons (start of his number one scott hater arc)

this one's just in the wrong playlist first of all why does he insert this between two waterparks songs. whatever man.

anyway this song's interesting to me because it's literally just about a hot babe getting rejected by some fuck who refuses to be ball-and-chained.

there's two directions this could go imo: one is that this is, once again, evoking joel and jimmy's relationship. Joel acknowledges that he a life with Jimmy would be nice, but he refuses to settle down because it would rob him of his identity/freedom.

the other is that brandy is joel and the sailor is etho, since brandy shows an admiration for the sailor but also an awareness that he loves his job more than her

this storybook like description of how brandy saw the sailor's tales is very smalletho to me idk. very hand-in-hand with joel's child-like view of who etho is.

I don't have much for this one tbh it's pretty much just a love song and Joel really liking waterparks (king)

That being said, there's some fun imagery to play with here:

yellow = jimmy makes a lot of sense (blonde hair, canary imagery, yellow also representing people on their second life in the life series which evokes neither the assumed skillfulness of a late game green name nor the danger of a red name), as does green = joel (the green streak. shrek. yeahg. and while red joel is iconic "green like my insides" could also be read in this context as "deep down, I am safe to be around" which I think is neat)

"natural blue" is a bit harder to interpret (especially considering the original context of this being a joke about Awsten dyeing his hair) but blue is of course scott's colour. this could be read spitefully as Natural blue (was in love with jimmy first) vs scott's dyed hair or it's. joel saying that's he's gay idk man.

"at least I match your eyes" is pretty simple, with both of them having brown eyes, "jealous and hypnotized" once again alluding to some jealousy, likely towards FH again if you believe the blue line is alluding to scott.

however joel has plenty of people to be jealous of in regard to jimmy so. shrugs. hey you can even interpret this line as talking about jimmy's desirability. neat.

there's also this, which again might allude to flower husbands, implying in this fake world I've created that Joel doesn't view them as actually "married"

ok this is getting too long lmao see you guys next time i feel like writing about this stupid fucking playlist again

[borrowingtheborrower]

Blue spirit productions: The Borrowers (Info we have so far 2018-2024)

Many of you may remember this video from a couple years back...

2018

This is a pitch from "Blue Spirit Productions" a french animation studio, you may know their works such as "The Blue Samurai" or "My Life As A Courgette."

The pitch is for a potential animated TV show for "The Borrowers", made for companies and audiences to watch and get an impression on what they're gonna make and if anyone would be interested.

This was shown at the Cartoon Fourm 2018 as a project pitch and uploaded by CartoonBrew online, which is where the video comes from.

CartoonBrew's review here:

We know very little about the pitch for this other than it was shown off a few times at international animation conventions. Due to that we have very little concept art other than a few online.

From what little info we had the plot was simple and already created the groundwork for things such as characters and story.

The official Blue Spirit productions website wrote:

"Whilst out on a foraging mission, Arrietty, a Borrower no taller than an apple, is spotted by Tom, a human! But what should have been a disaster turns out to be the start of a wonderful friendship"

Although there's still a few reviews where a other plot points get mentioned, such as Tom's grandma running a Hotel where the Borrowers currently reside, but this is likely many ideas from the concepts they had.

More about the creation and throught process about this pitch project can be found here in this interview:

2019 - 2021

Little was heard about the project for years despite a positive response online from borrower fans, specifically on Tumblr.

(Fun fact I was originally the first person to post it on Tumblr lol)

The only thing new info we got was in a few new images, Tom's appearance had change except his outfit, while Arrietty remained the same.

Until about 2022 - 2024 where we've gotten more news.

The series was now in development, with a new director David Lopez.

Credit: Offical art from David Lopez' Instagram account (@/el_senior_lopez)

Job listings were put up for new animators, the page about it on Blue Spirit's official website had updated and most importantly we got new images.

For a short while this was the only new official image online, with Tom and arrietty sporting new looks.

Although slowly, Arrietty specifically would be used in advertising for the company for things like new animation positions and for more international conventions.

Speaking of the conventions, a few of them had special talks at booths or even screenings of the show such as at Cartoon Fourm 2023, Annecy 2023 - 2024, Mipsjunior 2023 - 2024 ect ect.

Soon after this it was announced the team up of Blue Spirit Productions and Newen Connect, a french distribution company.

The series as of now is currently in production, on Newen connect's website we even have a new description:

(Translated from french and slighty fixed words.)

"The Borrowers are tiny people who live, unbeknownst to us, inside the walls of our homes. Their number one rule in life is simple: a peaceful existence means never being seen by Humans. Arrietty, 11 years old and 2 inches high, lives with her parents in a small community of Borrowers inside the house of a Human named Marie. Fearless and very curious, one day, Arrietty meets Tom, Marie’s grandson, and against all odds, befriends him. But shhh, its’ a secret... From this day forward, Arrietty divides her time between her daily life as a Borrower and her dream of exploring the world of Humans which takes on a whole new dimension, with her new friend, Tom. Together, Arrietty and Tom will embark on a gigantic adventure!"

Newens official website:

While it's been a long journey I genuinely cannot wait for this show, it's always exciting to see new animated projects especially a new Borrowers animated project as well. Despite The Borrowers having such an interesting idea it's only been animated once, which was about a decade ago with "The Secret World Of Arrietty" created by Studio Ghibli.

With the end of the year coming soon, let's hope to see this in 2025!

If you have more info feel free to add commentary, or if I got any details wrong feel free to message me. Thank you and have a wonderful day! <3

[ilovespec420]

Shark Love ~

Yandere Fem ! Gang leader × civilian Fem ! reader. Part 1

WARNING!!!: description OF SEVERE WOUNDS , swearing in Italian , yandere has anger problems, just fucking gang members , YANDERE HERSELF IS THE LEADER of THE GANG , a small description of torture , a sadistic character , Yandere is a female , and Y/N too.

6834 words

part 2

part 3

Today, Y/N has finally started life with a clean slate.. Finally she moved to a new city! There were just some strange moments... Firstly.. Housing prices are too pleasant... Secondly, salaries are higher here than in her city.. And what is even more strange.... There are too many jobs and vacant houses here... Maybe it 's just not such a busy city , and that 's a good thing! Then no one will make noise under the windows at night! Although there will be no noise under the windows, much worse things will happen..

｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

Y/N has already managed to find a job! She got a job in an office, which fortunately was next to her house! And that's a little weird... Next to the house where her apartment was.. Strange people often hung around.. Namely, unusually tall and muscular women and men..covered in scars and tattoos... Perhaps it's just avid bikers ..? Really .. Yes ..? After all, when selling her apartment, the realtor did not tell her that this is a criminal area...!!! It's possible that she's just winding herself up and it's just bikers... But for some reason, their clothes don't look very much like biker ones... Tank tops without sleeves...polo shirts... Turtlenecks... Sweatpants or classic trousers, formal suits with ties.... And not a single hint of leather jackets or other biker stuff... Which is strange... Okay, maybe Y/N just developed a little paranoia......

｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

It was late in the evening...Y/N was returning home from work... It was already about 7-8 o'clock in the evening... Suddenly ! She heard screams of pain, agony, and sobs from the alley... Foolishly, Y/N came unsteadily, looked into the alley and was horrified.... THERE WAS A GUY BLEEDING ON THE GROUND!!! His left hand was already missing fingers and half of the skin... And it is clear that the wound has already slightly festered due to the dirt.. There were already many burns on his right hand , and 3 fingers were broken .. HIS FACE DIDN 'T EVEN FUCKING RESEMBLE A FACE , BUT MINCED MEAT !!! And all this was done to him , and the strange girl continued to do it ..next to her , on the asphalt lay bloody pliers, a hammer, a dagger and various other scary sharp things covered in blood.. She was wearing a black turtleneck, and black classic trousers with lace-up boots.. She had long, grey hair slightly disheveled to the waist, and pale skin... Y/N couldn't see her face because this girl had her back to her.. And she kept torturing the poor guy.. But after a couple of seconds, SHE TURNED AROUND AND STARED AT Y/N WITH A SADISTIC GRIN!! She has narrow brown eyes, Asian facial features and quite a few scars on her face..

- CLEARLY A FUCKING DANGEROUS GIRL: ohh~ what kind of cute lamb wandered in here ~ you look like you're going to faint~ ah, aren't you having fun? ~ I'm just punishing this pathetic insect who betrayed the boss and gave out important information to another gang~

Y/N backed away, and met something solid with her back. She thought it was a wall... But this creepy and dangerous girl stared at this "wall" that was behind Y/N, and stuttered slightly..

- CLEARLY A FUCKING DANGEROUS GIRL: O-oh... B-Boss.... Haha.. B-But I'm c-conducting an interrogation.. Oh, I w-was about to t-take that g-girl down.. B-Boss don't w-worry-

This OBVIOUSLY dangerous girl broke off at the end of her word because this supposedly wall, which turned out to be a woman, jerked from behind Y/N AND PUNCHED HER RIGHT IN THE FACE OF THIS GIRL , and began shouting obviously furious words ... Uhhh... What language is this...? Italian seems to be...

-A strange savior: MIKI MORI HAI GIÀ SUPERATO IL LIMITE !!! QUESTA DOLCE RAGAZZA È UNA CITTADINA ORDINARIA CHE È APPENA PASSATA E DEVI TROVARE UN POSTO MIGLIORE PER INTERROGARE, VEDI QUANTO È SPAVENTATO QUESTO AGNELLO, HAH?!!?! HAH?!!??

While her strange savior was yelling at this dangerous girl.. And her savior was ALSO CLEARLY MORE DANGEROUS THAN THIS GIRL MANY TIMES OVER !! Y/N was able to see it... Her approximate height was 6'5 feet, she had Italian facial features (which is clear from the language she is shouting in now)... She has a rather unusual hairstyle... Short, like a man's.. And the coloring of her hair is a little strange.. Each of her strands alternates between white and yellow ... She has tanned skin.. Blue eyes... Broad shoulders and A LOT OF SCARS ON HER ARMS!! a small piercing on the lower lip and on the left eyebrow... There is a scar on the left side of her jaw.. And there's a longish scar on her right eye, like an animal wound.. And the scariest and strangest thing about her.. SHE'S GOT FUCKING TEETH ALMOST LIKE A SHARK'S!!! THE TIPS OF HER TEETH ARE SHARPENED , FUCK!!! It's scary.. But at the same time it suits her strangely..She is wearing a grey polo shirt, black trousers, a black leather belt with an iron plaque, and classic black leather shoes..AND ABRUPTLY !! Someone gently grabbed her armpits and carried her out of the alley like a cat...

｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

It was.. More simply, but also a menacing-looking girl..She has dark brown hair..It's also a man's haircut, but a longer one.. German and soft facial features.. Blue eyes.. Prominent cheekbones..FUCK !! SHE HAS A SCAR STRETCHING FROM THE LEFT CORNER OF HER MOUTH AND PROTRUDING FANGS LIKE AN ANIMAL!!! Piercing of the left eyebrow and piercing in the ears.. A scar on her neck.. AND THERE ARE A LOT OF FUCKING SCARS ON HER HANDS TOO!! She is wearing a white sleeveless T-shirt, black sweatpants with a white stripe on their right side, a black bandana on her head , and simple black and white sneakers

- Quite a beautiful but threatening girl: Uh... Hi, are you okay..? You better not look.. My boss, the shark, is scolding my friend right now... We call her "dolphin" because of her habits and.. How to say it... An unnecessarily sadistic and evil character... and... uh... well... I'm Martina by the way.. And you? >-<

-Y/N: I'm fine myself.. But I'm pretty scared... uh.. Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N..

As a sign of familiarity, Martina gently patted Y/N on the shoulder.. Her hands are so callused..

｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

When the furious screams in Italian stopped from the alley, this "boss shark" came out.

-Mysterious and OBVIOUSLY dangerous "boss shark": So, piranha. Take the dolphin to her apartment, and I'll take this carino cittadino to her house..

thisa mysterious and dangerous woman HUGGED HER BY THE SHOULDERS, AND WAVING GOODBYE TO HER SUBORDINATE, CONFIDENTLY WALKED WITH Y/N TO HER HOUSE!!

-A mysterious and OBVIOUSLY dangerous "boss shark": Well.. As far as I remember, ordinary civilians have a bad nervous system, I hope you weren't too "traumatized" by seeing this? There was literally almost a living corpse there..

Y/N shook her head , and continued walking in embarrassment

-Mysterious and OBVIOUSLY dangerous "boss shark": my name is Squalo. I won't tell you my last name, you won't remember it. And as far as I've heard, you're Y/N. Nice name, it suits you..

Squalo gave Y/N a toothy smile, showing her shark teeth..

｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

A few minutes later they reached her house.

-Squalo: Good night to you, agnello carino~

Squalo ruffled Y/N's hair and winked at her and left with her hands in her pockets... It was definitely an evening...and with a slightly heavy soul, Y/N went into her apartment and went to sleep..

How do you like this part?? in a couple of minutes I'll post a description and drawings of these characters >3<

lol, I'm 100% sure that Squalo will have this on the second wallpaper on the phone : (on the first wallpaper, of course, Y/N.)

Carino cittadino: cute citizen.

Agnello carino: cute lamb

(I think it makes no sense to translate into English just Italian swearing..)

[katerina-marie]

The Beach Episode (Romantic Sunday)

Sukuna x Reader

Part 1

You and Satoru are supposed to be filming a short ad on the beach, but your blue-eyed costar has a habit of never showing up on time. What happens when a certain tattooed, pink-haired band member surprises you with a visit? You frolic in the ocean of course!

Notes: A celebrity!au that popped into my head while listening to Romantic Sunday by Car, the Garden and would not leave. While this is a Sukuna x Reader fic, other characters do play minor roles and may have brief POVs. This fic is pending in my head as a chapter in a larger work that chronicles reader's and Sukuna's developing relationship and is inspired by other scenarios that come to be while listening to music, but nothing is concrete. Since that's so, Sukuna and reader's relationship isn't explicitly defined in this one, but it’s certainly past friendship.

Word Count: 5.3k

Content: bandmember Sukuna x actor female Reader (referred to as such, but left descriptively vague), no y/n, manager Nanami, bodyguard Toji, actor Gojo (he's picked on, but I love him so it’s okay), other favorites who have small supporting rolls, all fluff, crack, and humor, includes an innuendo or two, but other wise PG/PG-13, out of character Sukuna (he's so fluffy).

P.S. I've used a line from a favorite TV show back in my teen years. Let me know if you recognize it!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

——————————————————————————————————

“Well…you did say you wanted to go to the beach, Kento. Look where we are!”

Your teasing tone and amused grin did nothing to budge the frustrated scowl off the face of your manager. If anything, it drove the furrow between his eyebrows that much further, and you swore a vein in his forehead started to throb. 

“A vacation, actually,” Nanami began, sending you a pointed look that said he knew exactly what you were playing at, “in Malaysia…on a beach…by myself.” 

You tutted at him before giving him a dainty smile and settling further into your makeup chair, “I was only trying to make you laugh, Kento.” 

In your opinion, laughing and smiling was something Nanami Kento seldom did but often should. Whether it was a personal standard he held himself to or some other form of ritual torture, your manager stuck to a strict dress code no matter where he went. Case in point, on a beach in the middle of the summer, Nanami was clothed in his usual suit, tie and dutifully styled hair in tow. The only indication that he planned for the environment you all would spend the day in was the thick white stripes of sunscreen pasted on the sharp angle of his nose and over the apples of his cheeks. Whether he intentionally matched the color of his tan suit to the sand under your feet was anyone’s best guess. You hesitated to ask, a mercy for Kento if you did say so yourself, if only because he looked one wrong word away from throwing himself in the ocean, and not in a way that indicated any fun would be had. 

As if privy to your thoughts, he released a drawn out sigh and crossed his legs in his own chair across from you. He took a quick glimpse at the time on his phone and shook his head. 

Poor Kento. He really did deserve that vacation. And honestly, you did appreciate and acknowledge his dedication to his craft—and you, by extension. 

“I’m sorry,” Nanami murmured, an apologetic softening of his eyes making his whole expression smooth out, “my frustrations are not towards you, I assure you. I’m confident you could guess at whom my ire is directed at currently.” 

You snorted. “Well, of course I c—,” 

“That blue-eyed bastard is late again!” 

The flap of your makeup tent was thrown back with enough force that you were surprised it hadn’t ripped clean down its seam. Your overgrown tree of a bodyguard had a habit of “forgetting” the strength and stature that made him so adept at his job and simply enjoyed his ability to throw any object—or person—around as he pleased. 

You scowled at Toji for interrupting you and watched as he stomped over to stand next to you and Nanami with a pout that pulled at the, frankly, appealing scar at the corner of his mouth. Between that, his eyes that looked as if they knew every secret you ever had and shaggy black hair that probably needed a cut, Toji posed both an intimidating and handsome figure. That was besides the point though and not that it mattered much to you. He had a son that was a friend of your friend and only a couple years younger than you. Not that Toji looked it one bit. 

“Satoru hasn’t been heard from, I presume?” 

Toji and Nanami both leveled you with a deadpan look and answered you at the same time with the same disgruntled voice, “no.”

You threw your head back in exasperation and instantly regretted it when you were reminded of the dozens of pins holding your styled hair in place as they all poked you quite viciously in the back of the head. You winced and raised your hand to rub at the sore spot, only to have it slapped away by a member of the hair and makeup team to prevent you from mussing it further. You crossed your arms with a huff and slouched further into your chair. 

“You look like you’re having fun,” Toji remarked, his smirk full of sarcasm and twisted amusement. “I think they missed a spot with your makeup though.” 

You found no humor in the waving of his hand as one of his fingers circled the entirety of your face in the air in front of it, nor were you concerned with the false insinuation that you looked anything other than well put together. Now, the chance of said makeup sliding right off your face as soon as you stepped into the late afternoon sun? Plausible, but best left to the worries of the experts. 

“Toji,” you crooned, voice cloyingly sweet but eyeing him with a sharp glare he was surely well acquainted with, “we’re at the beach. Why don’t you, oh I don’t know, go play in the ocean and swim with the fish? Or, do you want to build a sandcastle?” 

The smug grin he was wearing fell clean off his face and was replaced with an ugly pinch of his nose.

“Hell no, I hate sand! The damned stuff always gets everywhere no matter what I do. In my socks, my sandwich, the crack of my a—,” 

“Enough!” 

Nanami’s exclamation was loud and angry enough that it caused you and Toji both to jump and effectively ended whatever crude tale he was about to subject the crowd in the tent to. 

“I’m going to go call Geto and see where the hell his client is.” 

Nanami stood and brushed any bits of sand from his suit. Not that anyone could tell if there had been any in the first place. 

“You,” he added, pointing in your direction, “will get dressed so that once I finish ripping Gojo’s manager a new one, we can talk with the director of this damned affair and see if we can get any film done with just you while we wait.” 

Without leaving any room for protest or discussion, Nanami was gone with a flutter of a tent flap and you were left making wide eyes at your equally stunned bodyguard. There was silence and stillness for a beat of time before Toji shrugged and movement about the tent resumed again. 

“Well,” he drawled, “that’s my cue to leave. I’m off to go guard some bodies and what not.” His eyebrows danced and his eyes flashed, not in the least deterred by your annoyed stare. 

“We’re on a closed off, private beach, Toji. There’s no one here for you to throw out.” 

He was unbothered and took a few sauntering steps back towards the entrance of the tent. 

“Still, I wouldn’t want you to think I was slacking on the job and quit paying me. Have fun getting dressed, Princess.” 

Toji ignored the baring of your teeth and left just as quickly as Nanami did. You blew out a resigned sigh as you took a peek at the mountain of lace, fabric, and strings that hung from a corner of the tent and decided at that moment that you wished it was Toji being stuffed into a dress and primped within an inch of his life. 

“He’s going to charm his way back into the refreshment tent and pass out,” you grumbled, and oh yes, that was seething jealousy you held for your bodyguard. Someone chuckled behind you, but was quick to prompt you to stand and disrobe. 

Really, it couldn’t be that bad…right? 

——————————————————————————————————

Some suspiciously placed tape, three assistants, and nearly forty five minutes later would prove you to be exceptionally wrong. Lace sleeves had been tugged up against sweaty arms, the strings at the back of your dress that held it together had been pulled and tied so tightly that you were hesitant to move too suddenly for fear of busting it, and the pins in your hair had been removed to let it lay as styled. You were one moment of heat induced lightheadedness away from falling over into the sand, and there would be no getting up after that. There was fabric clinging and swishing against your legs and you thought you had seen a train at the back of the dress, though that made no sense to you at all given what was planned to happen in front of a camera. 

“Please,” you begged to anyone in the room that would listen. “Can I be done now? If I don’t get a breath of fresh air, I’m going to pass out.” 

Your wish was acquiesced, and with the promise to not mess anything up, you made your great escape out of the tent and towards the edge of the ocean before anyone could change their mind. There was no need for any more hair to be pinned, makeup to be touched up, or fabric draped. 

The water that went on endlessly for miles in front of you was a light blue and mostly calm in its movement for the day. Sandy beach on either side of you stretched out until you could just barely see it transition into rocky cliffs that helped form its crescent shape. If one could ignore the highway and paved parking lot a couple minutes walk behind you, it was almost like you were on a secluded island paradise. 

Though the sun was still hot, the fresh air was successful in clearing your mind, and the salted mist of the water was enough to help balm the warmth under your dress. The multiple tents strewn across the sand each served their own niche purpose with people popping in and out of them all day. There was chatter about, people hustling from one side of the camped setup to the other and cameras placed strategically to capture whatever commercial or short that you and Satoru were supposed to film.  However, no one paid you much mind at the moment, and you sidled up to where the water met the sand, dress held above your ankles so the waves could tickle your feet. 

“Don’t you look pretty.” 

Elated surprise made your heart leap at the sound of a familiar voice, and you whipped around with excitement written all over your face to meet the eyes of the handsome man behind you. 

“Sukuna! What are you doing here?” 

The man in question grinned, his expression half mischievous and maybe the slightest bit bashful, though no one would dare point it out. His pink hair was pushed back into its normal style, but due to the humidity, random pieces drooped down his forehead and into his eyes slightly. His tattoos were on full display in the tank top and swim trunks he was wearing. Every bit of him was a sight for your sore eyes. Sukuna opened his arms for you and it took only a moment of hesitancy before you stepped into them for a quick hug. 

“Yuji and Choso wanted to go for a drive since the day was nice, and naturally Fushiguro tagged along. Coincidentally though, Yuji had us drive along the highway behind the setup you all got going on and ‘poof,’ here we are.”  

You pulled back from Sukuna as he finished his sentence and gave him a small, happy wiggle of your shoulders. You made a note to remember how you felt his fingers dancing down languidly over the lace covering your arm and swirling gently around the edge of the sleeve that came to a point on the back of your hand before letting his arm fall back against his side. 

“Well, I’m glad the four of you made it, coincidence or not,” you quipped at him. Your eyes still hadn’t left his and you knew it was going to be a struggle to wipe what had to be a lovestruck grin off your lips. 

“You sure about that?” 

Sukuna laughed and threw a hand back over his shoulder, gesturing towards what your eyes followed and found to be the refreshment tent. What you saw had you doubling over in laughter, or at least as far as you could in your dress. 

Yuji and Choso, Sukuna’s brothers and bandmates, were struggling to stifle giggles as they hovered over a hulking figure laid out in a chaise underneath a misting fan. As you predicted, Toji was dead asleep, mouth agape and a half eaten cheeseburger dangling from a hand resting on his chest. What really set the whole thing apart was the way Yuji and Choso were surreptitiously trying to see how many french fries they could place in Toji’s mouth before he either woke up or started to choke when one inevitably fell back down his throat. In the corner, Megumi stood watching with barely concealed glee and a phone in his hand capturing the whole ordeal. You assumed that no matter what way this went, Megumi was bound to come out of it on top with either the joy of having comedic blackmail to hold over his father’s head or the pleasure of getting to watch him beat his friend’s asses. In the best case scenario, it was both. 

You recovered from your laughter with a shake of your head and a measly deep breath before turning back to Sukuna. It was sucked right back out of you when you found his eyes trailing up from the tips of your toes, lingering at where the dress cinched your waist and then at the lace scalloping your chest before finally coming up to meet your eyes. His gaze was half lidded and heavier than usual, and it set your cheeks aflame in a way that you could never pass off as from the sun. He smirked when you stuttered over some inarticulate noise that had escaped your mouth, and you were about to take a giant step back to compose yourself when his face eventually softened. Sukuna offered you a quick wink, not so devious and more contrite than anything else, though it didn’t seem to affect your racing pulse any less, and then continued his tirade as he hooked his pinky finger around a lock of hair framing your eyes. 

Somewhere in the back of your head choirs were singing and clouds were parting, but all you could think about was the hint of black polish on his nails that you spotted out of your peripheral and the growing number of people you could see beginning to take interest in the way Sukuna towered over you and how you didn’t seem to mind. You finally made space between the two of you by pressing your knuckles against his chest with just enough pressure to send the message. He obeyed and returned the small smile you sent his way to soften the gesture. 

“So,” he started, his hands set deep in his pockets and a rock to his heels that would make anyone else look nervous, “what are you all waiting around for?”  

Thankful for conversation to focus on, you threw your hands up to convey that you were just as confused as he was and followed it up with what you made to sound like the most logical and obvious explanation in the world;

“Sa-to-ru is late. Again.” 

At the first enunciated syllable of Satoru’s name to leave your mouth, a corner of Sukuna’s nose quivered in disdain and he rolled his eyes in a way that was clearly disparaging, yet you found weakened your knees. 

“Tell me about it. He most likely forgot or got caught up w—,” 

The most ungracious snort left Sukuna’s nose, and you were so taken aback by the fact that it happened, and let alone found it attractive, that you missed whatever he had hissed under his breath. 

“Tied up is probably more like it.” 

“What was that?” 

“Oh, nothing. Nothing important.” 

His voice was too intentionally innocent and his face suspiciously cleared of any ill will for you to believe an ounce of what he said, but there was no chance in getting Sukuna to admit anything he didn’t want to, and you were more preoccupied with getting that look from earlier back in his eyes. So with that, you meandered back a few steps into the water and waited. 

“So, tell me, what brilliant songwriting have you been up to, oh esteemed ‘King of Curses’, or is that strictly confidential, band member-only info?” 

You knew asking Sukuna, or even Yuji or Choso, about their wildly popular band ‘The Curses’ was a sure fire way to get them talking about their shared passion, and it always brought a smile to your face to see them so excited. You expected the same now, but were caught off guard when Sukuna stumbled over the step he took to follow you and the brief way his face shuttered blank before he recovered. That act alone would have been enough to put an end to your flirty intentions—because you just knew that nickname of his got him riled up whenever it came out of your mouth—but the sensation of fabric being pulled tight against the back of your legs had you stopped. A quick glance down into the water confirmed that he had stepped on your dress and the extra fabric was beginning to swirl around his calves. 

So that’s what the train was for! A devious, delicious idea began to form in your head and you knew you had only one chance to make it happen. 

You glanced up at Sukuna through your eyelashes (he struggled to recall in that moment if they had always been that long or if it was the makeup making his mind fuzzy) and cocked your head gently to one side before beginning a slow prowl around him.

“What, no love songs or epic tales of star crossed romance have emerged from that practice studio of yours lately? Don’t tell me a cat has got your tongue?” 

Ever focused on the way your lips curled into a sultry smile and the feather-light drag of your finger along the top of his shorts at his hip, Sukuna was unusually quiet as he followed you with his eyes. You began to pass behind his back and your circle was nearly halfway complete. 

“Su-ku-na,” you called when you received no answer, watching as he gave a shake of his head as if to clear a haze from it. 

“Quit being a brat and distracting me!”  

There was no malice in his tone, but you could tell that he was being truthful. You had completed your circle and came to stand in front of him once again. 

“I’m just waiting for you to answer my question,” you sing-songed. 

Sukuna’s mouth stuttered open for a second and nothing came out before he finally seemed to collect himself, “No! No love songs, no sappy lyrics, and no star crossed romance. Who do you take me for?” 

Your peals of laughter that followed his blurted response floated about the beach and seemed to soothe whatever had come over him in the last couple of minutes. In a haste, you cast a glance down at his legs to check that everything was in place. 

“I’m just playing with you, Sukuna,” you cooed at him, “there’s no need to get defensive.” 

His eyes narrowed and you watched with glee as he pulled himself up to his full height, leaned down into your face, and let a haughty smirk tug the corners of his mouth. 

“You don’t want to play with me, Sweetheart. I. Play. Rough.” 

“Hmm, you think so?” 

You let a delicate, breathy sigh brush up against his mouth from yours while you arched your back slightly to press your chest against his. Sensing you had Sukuna’s full attention, you smoothed your leg between his to let the side of your foot trace oh so gently over the bone in his ankle. His breath hitched, and in the same moment you tipped your head back to close a fraction of distance between your lips, you also tightened your fingers in the furls of your dress. 

“Really,” you whispered, “somehow I think that I play rougher.” 

Yank. 

Since he was already off balance when you ripped the fabric of your dress out and around from under his feet, it only took a quick sweep of your foot against Sukuna’s leg to keep the momentum going and to dump him and his gobsmacked expression into the knee-deep water of the ocean. You jumped back to avoid as much of the splash as you could, and in the same heartbeat, you lifted your dress and took off in the direction of the tents set back on the shore. Your plan was a success.

There were two oversights on your part, however, that became all too clear in the couple seconds after this monumental event took place. 

One, the amount of water your dress accumulated and how much it now slowed you down due to its weight and tangle in your legs. 

Two, which you really should have anticipated if you thought back on it, was the unbelievable amount of speed and agility with which Sukuna pushed himself out of the water, set a borderline maniacal look upon you that promised glorious retribution (you would have to question yourself later as to why this sent shivers down your back and warmth to places you would rather not think about), and thus began an inhumanly quick sprint towards you. 

So, naturally, you did what any independent, perfectly capable woman would do; you screamed at the top of your lungs bloody murder for your bodyguard and high tailed it out of the ocean. 

——————————————————————————————————

The first thing Toji wondered upon being awoken by the screams of a dying woman was why his mouth was full of french fries. He sputtered on the cold and soggy pieces in his mouth as he leapt from the chaise he had barely remembered falling asleep on and frantically looked out towards the water to see what fate he had let come upon you. Toji was certain there were only two possibilities. 

One: he had fallen asleep on the job and you were now being eaten by a shark.

Two: he had fallen asleep on the job and you were now drowning in the ocean. 

To his sleep addled brain, which was currently working through the onslaught of you shrieking his name, either option had an equally probable likelihood of occurring. The outcome, however? In both scenarios, there was only one logical conclusion. He was getting fired. 

With that thought in mind, he started the process of becoming your own personal search and rescue. All in a flurry of forward movement, he kicked off his shoes, dropped the crumpled half eaten cheeseburger from his grasp, and flailed his hand around in his pocket to locate his wallet. He was not about to let his most important possession be lost to the tides—especially with the encroaching threat of unemployment looming over his head—and was about to seriously consider dropping his shorts to the ground altogether when he heard your screams reach a sudden pitch and then descend into hysterical laughter. 

Toji took that as a sign to further scope out the situation in front of him and after rubbing sleep and sand from his eyes, he could now better understand that you weren’t actually in mortal danger. You were just flirting. 

With the adrenaline that was previously coursing through his body now taking a sudden nosedive, Toji staggered back into the tent to plop onto his previously occupied chaise. While he was obviously relieved to see you weren’t dying, he was even more glad that he wasn’t going to have to call Shiu tomorrow and admit that his asset was dead and he was in need of a new job. Surely offers would be next to none, and he didn’t think he could handle guarding any more feisty starlets or listen to them vent about their secret love affairs with pink-haired band members…at least not without the blood pressure medication his doctor had threatened him with at his last check-up.

At the sound of muffled laughter to his left, Toji swung his gaze over to his son, a grin on Megumi’s face and phone in hand, and his son’s two idiot friends, both of whom were having to help hold the other up. 

“Not you three now too,” he grumbled, standing up from his chaise and making his way over to where they stood. “What’s got you idiots making so much n—,”

Toji came to a sudden halt as Megumi’s hand lifted up to shove his cell phone in his face. His eyes squinted at the screen, the laughter from Yuji and Choso increasing in volume, and he needed only a second to process the video he was watching before snapping his head towards the two brothers. 

“You bastards!”

Megumi watched as his father and two friends stared wide eyed at each other for a couple of seconds before they all took off running out of the tent and beyond. The thought of catching the pummeling that was coming the brother’s way once his father caught them was plenty enticing, but years of living with Toji Fushiguro taught him that he too was to be considered guilty as an accomplice, and thus making himself scarce was the wiser decision. Besides, there were plenty of cameras already rolling anyway. 

——————————————————————————————————

You had taken only a couple of steps onto dry land before a set of well muscled arms locked around your midsection, lifted you clear off your feet, and jerked you back against a solid chest. Sukuna’s breathing was loud and heavy in your ear and you could feel water leaching through the back of your dress from where he pressed forward against you with the entirety of his body. 

“That was naughty,” he taunted, and the low scratch of his voice made your feigned attempt to wrestle out of his hold falter. 

Before you could say anything in response, in an impressive feat of strength, Sukuna once more swept you off your feet and planted you stomach down over his shoulder. He turned and began to wade back into the water, and it wasn’t until your view from beside his hips started to be filled entirely by water that you struggled—in earnest this time. 

“Sukuna!” You gasped, trying to come up with some kind of plea that would keep you from your fate of being dropped into the ocean. “Suk-Sukuna, I can’t swim, I can’t swim!”

This wasn’t true in the slightest, but you hoped his concern for your safety would outweigh his need for vengeance. Just as the ends of your hair became engulfed by water, Sukuna dragged you back up from over his shoulder and slid you down his front until he could grasp at your thighs and pull them open around his hips. You threw your arms around his neck and prayed that the pleading look in your eyes would work.

“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” was all the warning Sukuna gave before cocking an eyebrow at you and promptly falling flat backwards into the ocean with you secured against his chest. The two of you crashed into the water just in time for a wave to surge over you both. It was a cold shock to your system, but you had no more than a hiccup to process the feeling before Sukuna was up on his feet and trudging back to shore with you in his arms. You sputtered the whole way back and pawed at your face to pry a curtain of soaking wet hair from your eyes. 

It was at the line where ocean became more sand than water that Sukuna stumbled, presumably from wet fabric caught in his legs again, and rotated mid-fall just quickly enough to save you from being squashed under him. 

It took a minute for your combined unabashed laughter to subside, and when you finally caught your breath from where your head rested against the curve of his shoulder, you flew upwards. You swatted Sukuna’s chest when the glimpse of sparkling eyes and a full smile snagged your attention, and you hoped that the swaths of fabric pooling around the two of you was enough to disguise how you straddled his hips and that his fingers were tracing absentminded figures at their place right on the small of your back. Unable to control the flush of heat through your limbs, you exclaimed the first thing that popped into your head and then immediately regretted it. 

“Sukuna, I’m completely soaked!” 

The quickness of the wicked grin that spread across his face astounded you, and when you noticed his lips begin to part, to no doubt retort something highly inappropriate for the given situation, you slapped a hand over his mouth. His smile was still present under your palm, his eyes soft and adoring, and you swore you felt him place a small kiss at the meat of your thumb. 

“AND CUT!” 

The director’s shout was enough to shatter the intimate quiet that had gone unnoticed by you two, and the both of you lurched just far enough apart to separate your bodies but remain near enough for the bump of a knee or shoulder. Before you could even gather your bearings enough to understand what was going on, a tall shadow appeared over you, and you leaned your head back to squint up at whoever it was. 

“That was certainly entertaining.” 

You recognized the voice of Satoru’s manager just as he held out a hand to help you to your feet, and you shot him a look of dismay once you steadied yourself. 

“It’s nice of you and your client to finally grace us with your presence, Geto,” you replied dryly. 

Geto shrugged, not a single care evident on that pretty face of his, and brought your attention to the crowd gathered behind him with a flourish of his hand. You took a tentative glance at what he was referring to and nearly cringed when you caught sight of the numerous cameras pointed at you and Sukuna. Not to mention Nanami, who stood next to the director with a hand pressed up against his temple like he was in great pain. Though from the small smile you could just barely make out and the animated chatter from the director into Nanami’s ear, you assumed that what had just transpired wasn’t such a bad thing. Even Toji, who was a couple feet behind them with Yuji and Choso in head locks under each of his arms, looked like he had gotten quite the chuckle out of the whole thing.

“It seems like the film was still able to get captured well enough without us,” Geto remarked. “I don’t believe there’s any reason to re-do anything with Satoru just for the sake of appearances.” 

You were about to open your mouth to make known your agreement to the idea when Sukuna suddenly threw an arm around your shoulder and popped back at Geto with a brusque “hell no.” You weren’t sure if you felt offended or disappointed by his objection, but before you could start to fret over it, Sukuna was stroking his thumb gently across the back of your neck, and you proceeded to melt into his side. Perhaps his initial disagreement had less to do with his reluctance to be seen as part of the project and instead had everything to do with him making sure you had the full ability to determine how much of him at your side you were ready to share with the world. The thought had you giddy. 

“I have zero objections to using the film with Sukuna.” 

There was a jubilant cheer from all the staff once they heard your words, and you couldn’t tear your eyes from the satisfied look on Sukuna’s face that followed them. 

“Ah, question,” he called out suddenly, making pointed eye contact with the director, and even Nanami too. “By agreeing to this, that means she doesn’t have to frolic around here with the white-hair idiot, right?” 

Over the immediate roar of laughter from everyone around, an indignant “hey!” could be heard from the nearby makeup tent, and for just once, you were grateful for Satoru’s inability to ever be on time.

——————————————————————————————————

Part 2

Notes: If you made it this far, thank you for reading! If you didn't catch it, the line "Somehow I think that I [you] play rougher" is taken from a scene in the Vampire Diaries (I was obsessed). Did I also get inspiration from that scene in the horse movie Spirit for Sukuna and Reader's moment in the water? Yes, yes I did.

Also, in my decade and a half of reading fan fiction, I have not once written or posted any of my own. So if I miss something important, please kindly let me know.

Always feel free to share comments, thoughts, or questions <3

[vinxhwrites]

note: this is the result of a crazy writing frenzy I was in last night, I went a bit feral over this idea and I don't know where this story is going. Also I spiraled after I read this. anywayyy hope you enjoy this drabble.

pairing: f!reader x price (x ghost - maybe eventually?)

summary: After going to work in the military you develop a weird relationship dynamic with your captain, and soon you find out you're not the only one.

word count: 2.7k

cw: 18+, daddy kink (!), probably inaccurate job descriptions/situations, pet names, a little bit of angst, a little bit of h/c; reader is kind of a crybaby; not proofread;

NEXT

You couldn't explain the story of how you got yourself in this situation if you tried. You were barely able to understand it yourself. Yet, here you were, sobbing in your captain's arms at his office, way past your working hours, calling him daddy and praying that he'd kiss you.

You had a hard day, as it was pretty common nowadays.

You certainly weren't fit for this work environment and you were painfully aware of it. It didn't matter how much you tried you couldn't get past this fact: you were an academic. You weren't used to the discipline, the hierarchy, and the life-engulfing aspects of the military.

When you had accepted the job 8 months prior, it really was the salary that convinced you, if you were being honest about it. You had been living on scholarships most of your adult life and it was getting kind of tiring. A part of you wanted to refuse out of a moral stance, but you didn't.

You were fresh out of a linguistics PhD program at the time, and you excelled as a student and researcher, but your skills were very specific and not that marketable. Your mom was probably right when she tried to dissuade you from dedicating your time to mostly dead and made-up languages, but you were too stubborn to listen at the time, although her greatest concerns were, as usual, well-founded. Needless to say, the opportunity came at the right time.

It seemed urgent and they tested you relentlessly. It was clear to you from the beginning that no one there was thrilled to resort to a civilian linguist. It was fun, though, and you passed the tests as if they were silly little puzzles you do to relax. And you were the only candidate to be able to decently decipher the completely made-up languages and codes that were used in the telegraphs they gave you.

They hired you on an 18-month contract for two different jobs: translating and decrypting intercepted messages for a task force, and also training their own linguists to do what you did. If you were good at it, you wouldn't be needed anymore.

The task force was nice enough, all four of them treated you well and didn't bother you much. At first, it was a bit disconcerting, but by now you've gotten used to how attractive they all were to the point where it almost didn't affect you anymore.

All of them called you birdie. You liked it, it made you feel included to have a little nickname. Soap was the one to come up with it on the second week you were working with them "Some birds know many languages." he had explained, clarifying: "Bird languages, ye know". The original explanation made you smile, but the addition made you blush "Plus, ye're cute like a little birdie"

The training part though wasn't going so well. You were almost 100% sure that all six of the students hated you. It seemed offensive to them to have to sit down and learn anything from you. In the beginning, you did your best to be pleasant, to do the best job you could, and maybe win them over. But at this point, you just wanted to be done with it and never look at any of those people ever again.

They were building a computer program to do your job apart from the classes. You felt offended at first at how they didn't even hide the fact that you would be used and then replaced by a more efficient machine, but you were now praying that they'd get it done as quickly as possible. The program was really good at pattern recognition, but it still wasn't good enough at semantics, and it lacked any nuance of interpretation.

The only thing that made you want to stay a little longer was this thing with Captain Price. It had started innocent enough, he took pity on you when he noticed you struggling with the new environment. He said some kind and assuring words here and there when he noticed how much the students tormented you, and he'd reprehend anyone who dared to disrespect you in front of him.

Eventually, Price casually invited you to work in his office if you wanted to, being away from other people seemed to ease your nerves a bit. He didn't mind, he assured you, it was nice to have some company. More than that, he genuinely found your job fascinating and always asked you to show him how you did it in his free time.

He sometimes brought you tea the afternoons you spent there, he'd accidentally brush his arm against yours, or touch your leg with his knee when you sat beside him. At first, he'd correct the movement, but it evolved to not correcting it, to then doing it intentionally.

They were simple touches, a little pat on your shoulder here, brushing your hair out of your face there, every single one made you shiver. One day he made a comment about how uncomfortable you looked on the chair and pulled your legs to rest on his lap while he worked. That was the first night you allowed yourself to fantasize about him to sleep.

John had a warm and comforting presence, and you were genuinely disappointed when he wasn't around, finding comfort in the fact that he gave you a copy of his office keys, so you could work there even when he wasn't present.

Ghost was there sometimes, seemingly preferring to work from Price's office as well. At first, he seemed to get disconcerted by your presence, probably a bit annoyed that he had to share the space with you, you thought.

He was never rude to you, just awfully quiet, even when it was just the two of you there. He nodded at you when you greeted him, and often sat on the big sofa on the corner or even on the floor. You offered him the desk many times, feeling a bit guilty for taking up so much space, but you noticed he only accepted when he seemed truly tired. Despite the unsettling silence, you thought he was a gentleman.

You first thought that John had somehow hypnotized you when you noticed the subtle ways in which your heart lost its pace whenever he commanded you to do something. He rarely asked without a smile, a polite inclination "dear, will you please file these reports for me?" "can you please grab me a cup of coffee?". He'd only deviate you from your tasks like this when he seemed to be in a bad mood, you noticed. It was never about anything urgent, and it was always when you were clearly already busy. In spite of it, you were never able to say no. He seemed to derive pleasure from bossing you around like that, but you knew he didn't have to remind you of the power he had over you, as it always hovered on your mind. Either way, soon enough you were painfully aware of the fact that you'd do absolutely anything he asked you to.

But you knew, for sure, that you were in trouble when you realized you got aroused anytime he'd compliment your work. Getting his praise started to be a more important goal to you than anything else. Earning a "good girl" was a rare occurrence, but it never failed to make your day.

One day he found you crying, and you couldn't quite explain what it was with words without feeling ridiculous. After what they called a "successful mission" it dawned on you that the information you were extracting out of those telegraphs really was being used to kill people. Those weren't your silly little puzzles.

"Criminals" Soap had corrected you as you tried to articulate your despair, much to your dismay. He wheezed as if your frame of thought was absolutely hilarious. "Shouldn't be here if you'll react like that, birdie" he had said and you wanted to scream.

"You'll get used to it" Gaz had assured you, sending a disapproving look towards Soap.

Later, the more you tried to express your frustration to John the more you cried, sobbing pathetically. It was the first time he hugged you, shielding you from the world around you for a minute.

"You don't understand..." you tried to explain, but you cut the sentence short at his stern look.

"I do understand," he said frowning, keeping his hand firm on your back. He took a deep breath and leaned down a bit to look you in the eyes "Listen, you do a good job, sweetie. You're doing good things, even if it doesn't feel like it sometimes" he assured you.

You nodded and tried to get the crying under control, suddenly aware that you probably looked terrible.

John cupped your face in his hands.

"Why don't you get the rest of the day off and get some rest, huh?" he suggested kindly "come to me if you need to talk."

After that, he got more and more comfortable being physically close to you. It quickly evolved, as you enjoyed being close to him a bit too much. Sometimes he'd squeeze your hand in his when you sat beside him behind his desk very casually and, sometimes, you'd rest your head on his shoulder while he worked. Saying you were in love felt like an understatement, but you'd never make it real by saying it out loud.

You once made a joke in passing about how your dad left you and your family, but he didn't laugh. He tilted his head and looked worried instead. I'm here if you want to talk he said, and it made you want to bury your head in the dirt.

Price called you many things, at first it was dear, sweetie, birdie, love, and finally, he settled with baby.

"what are you doing there, baby?" he just asked casually one day, and you almost gasped, feeling your heart attempt to leave your chest.

Although your relationship with him wasn't sexual in practice, it certainly was sexualized in essence. To you it was, at least. Oedipal if you were to be honest with yourself.

The first time he called himself your daddy it simultaneously broke and healed something in your brain. He chuckled at your reaction, how you looked at him wide-eyed and full of hope, hiding your face on his chest next.

"thank you, sir" you whispered then, pathetically.

You feared at times that your affection to him was one-sided, that he saw comforting you like this as a part of his job, a strange but effective one as well. You wondered if it made you weak, you didn't even try to be brave and deal with things alone anymore, you were aware of how childish it was to knock on his door looking for daddy's embrace at the slightest inconvenience. But you couldn't help it, it was too comforting to give up.

And that's the exact position you were in now. You had a bad day so you came running to him. He was awfully kind to you, as usual, and you prayed that it was a sign of enjoyment, that he actually liked comforting you like this.

You didn't notice when Simon came in. He froze by the door, and the captain just signaled for him to close it. John still had his arm wrapped around you, a hand stroking your hair.

"Shhh, it's ok now" he cooed at you "daddy's here."

Simon watched as you melted in his arms at the words, your breathing easing instantly. Again, you felt as if hypnotized. Your body responded to his words before your mind could catch up with them.

You wanted him even closer, you wanted to curl up on his lap, and have him rock you like a baby. Most of all, you wanted him to kiss you. You craved the touch of his lips on yours and the thought clouded your mind. Just that week you had already masturbated to the thought of him twice. Although you always reprehended yourself afterward, it didn't work to make these thoughts go away.

You rehearsed in your mind the idea of looking up and kissing him but didn't build enough courage to do it. You thought you'd die if he ever rejected you.

"That's it, you're ok," John said when he noticed the pace of your breathing ease, with his cheek pressed to the top of your head "I've got you, baby" he pressed kisses to your hairline. You sniffed, using your sleeve to clean the tears from your cheek.

"Now, be a good girl and go get some sleep," he said and you nodded against his chest, inhaling the warm smell of his shirt and suffering with the upcoming separation already "Ghost will take you to bed".

You raised your head and blinked at him, and that's when you finally noticed the tall figure close to the door, unmoved. You wiped your tears, distressed. For how long had he been there?

"Will you guide her to her room, lieutenant?" John asked him calmly, as if you didn't find yourself in the most embarrassing of situations.

"Yes, sir" Simon responded in the same tone.

The walk back to your room was painfully silent. The corridor around you was dark and empty. Your entire body was tense, and you walked fast trying to keep up with Simon's pace, hoping that he'd just say something and put you out of your angst, but he didn't.

When you finally reached your door, he opened it and waited for you to go inside.

"I'm sorry that you saw that" you blurted out, cheeks flushed pink "I-I don't know what to say. It's really not like that...-"

"It's OK" he interrupted when he noted the despair in your voice. He tilted his head a bit, evaluating your expression "I get it." there was something mischievous in his eyes, and you wondered if he was smiling at you behind the mask.

"Do you?" you asked, your voice was almost a whisper.

He nodded, and you relaxed a bit "I'm sorry you had a shitty day, birdie"

"It's okay"

"Tell me if you need anything." he said before signaling for you to enter your bedroom again, you thanked him quietly and closed the door.

Simon went back to Price's office in hurried steps, letting out a sigh when he entered. He was exhausted.

His captain was seated on the sofa, reports spread on the coffee table in front of him and a cigar put out on the ashtray beside him.

"Come here" John said, his eyes didn't move from the papers in his hands.

Simon took off his boots and mask before curling up on the sofa, resting his head on the captain's legs, and finally taking a deep breath as John started to brush his fingers through his hair.

"Don't know what to do with her" John murmured, more to himself than to start a conversation.

Simon hummed in response, his eyes felt heavy, and he could no longer keep them open.

"She's such a sensitive little thing..." John continued, seemingly lost in thought.

"She's cute" the lieutenant murmured, the drowsiness that flooded his brain making it almost impossible to form a coherent thought.

"Yeah" John chuckled lightly. "Well, don't worry about it." he assured, taking his attention back to petting Simon's hair "How are you?"

"Fine" he purred, getting comfortable on the sofa, even though it was a bit too small for him.

John hummed as he stroked Simon's cheek lightly "my pretty boy"

He watched Simon as he let his eyes rest completely and his body relax, being taken by slumber in a matter of seconds.

John continued to read reports well into the night, only waking Simon up, gently, when he finally decided to get some sleep himself. He accompanied Simon to his bedroom before moving to his own, patting him on the shoulder before sending him to bed. It was easier for Simon to fall asleep on his own then, as it usually was, after he had already been nursed to sleep beforehand.

[maluskrow]

Opening feral/anthro pony/furry commissions!

Consider giving a disabled queer artist money this pride month ✨

I wanted to wait until my newer style for humans was more developed, and for my rebrand to be finished (mostly I planned to make a comm info site) but my life is literally falling apart! I can’t get into everything but the tipping point was me unexpectedly losing my insurance early cause my dad’s old job decided to screw their retirees over, ain’t that fun for me and my chronically pained existence :)) Anyway I need money to live, and to save up so maybe i could go to a doctor again, (and maybe to buy little treats with) and I’m confident in my pony and furry style so here we are!

Artistree link! < commission me through Artistree c: Prices are in USD Starting with 3 slots!

Half body > Sketch $5 | Lined flat color $15 | Fully rendered $30

Full body > Sketch $10 | Lined flat color $25 | Fully rendered $50

+50% the base price per extra character

No background 

Scene elements/simple props are free, complex or excessive props may have a fee

I can draw off a description instead of a reference for a $5 design fee

REBLOGS ARE VERY APPRECIATED!!

[evergreen-endo]

♱ SCREAM OF THE BUTTERFLY — y. endo + c. takiishi

cw: 18+ mdni, f! reader, blood, rough blowjob, takiishi smacks endo a couple times, reader referred to as her, bunny, + thing. wc: 0.8k.

♱ NUT VID — j. togame

cw: 18+ mdni, gn! reader, no pronouns used or descriptions of reader at all really. just a drabble abt the way togame sends you a video for the first time. wc: 0.3k.

♱ KNIFE PLAY — y. endo

cw: 18+ mdni. blood, knife play, highly manipulative, possessive behavior. gn! reader. endo calls reader bunny a couple times. wc: 0.6k.

♱ SHOTGUNNING — y. endo + c. takiishi

cw: 18+ mdni, weed. gn! reader — no pronouns or physical description, endo calls reader doll. just headcanons.

♱ 3 FREAKS IN A GROCERY STORE — y. endo + c. takiishi

cw: mdni. no warnings, just a silly drabble. not even nsfw, just ended up being written on this blog lol.

♱ CHAUFFEUR — y. endo + c. takiishi

cw: 18+ mdni, f! reader, fluff to smut very quickly, car sex(?), reader gets fingered lol. uhh that's it i think. wc: 1.5k.

♱ WE PLAY THE SAME KEYS AT DIFFERENT TIMES — r. kaji

cw: 18+ mdni, f! reader, car sex, spit. wc: 0.8k.

♱ EDGING ENDO — y. endo + c. takiishi

cw: 18+ mdni, gn! reader, no pronouns or physical descriptions used but the word "panties" is lol. edging endo with takiishi watching. unedited. just a drabble. wc: 0.5k

♱ TAKE IT EASY — c. takiishi + y. endo

cw: 18+ mdni. taking chika’s blowjob virginity. no pronouns or physical descriptions of reader, but reader has a pussy. maybe toxic almost poly dynamic if you squint really, really hard. unedited. wc: 0.9k

♱ TORN FROM YOUR SILHOUETTE — y. endo + c. takiishi

cw: 18+ mdni. gn! reader. angst w/ no comfort. nsfw. reader is referred to as pretty, sweetheart, baby. yandere themes, dubcon, highly manipulative, toxic behavior, depictions of depression, polyamorous relationship, abuse (takiishi hits endo), one brief mention of blood. wc: 5.1k.

♱ TORN FROM YOUR SILHOUETTE; SAY GOODBYE, WATCH ME FALL — y. endo

cw: 18+ mdni. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. depictions of depression and heavy implications of suicidal ideation. highly manipulative, toxic relationship. heavy angst, slight comfort. not my typical endo because in this au he is fed tf up with reader (so infatuated he can’t think straight and developing hints of yandere tendencies). wc: 2.1k.

♱ CHERRY WAVES — j. togame

cw: 18+ mdni. f! reader. porn without plot. not exactly dom/sub dynamics but reader does take control. reader is a bit of a cherry picker too, lol. pussy job with virgin togame, written with my clit. not a typical super subby, nervous virgin depiction; he’s pretty shameless! :P wc: 1.8k.

♱ MATTRESSES AND FALLING STARS — y. endo + c. takiishi

cw: 18+ mdni. half asleep grabbing and grinding with endochika. soft smut for once! <3 somno kinda, poly hand stuff :P short drabble.

♱ EMERGENCY CONTACT — y. endo

cw: 18+ mdni. gn! reader; no pronouns used for reader. sexting and nut vids! yay! endo is slutty (affectionate). he calls reader baby once or twice. hints of pining if you squint. unedited. wc: 1.2k

♱ PRAISE INTO SUBMISSION — h. umemiya + c. takiishi

cw: 18+ mdni. separate drabbles! they make you feel so good you can’t help but, well, tell them! but they’ve never been praised so sweetly, so thoroughly; it kinda makes their brains melt and limbs go weak. :] wc: roughly 540 for each chara.

♱ TAINTED BLISS — c. takiishi + y. endo

cw: 18+ mdni. gn! reader; no pronouns used for reader. takiishi doesn't understand dry humping. unedited. wc: 0.6k

♱ TELOMERES — y. endo

cw: 18+ mdni. blasphemy, allusions to religious iconography(?); endo views reader as something like a god that needs to be worshipped. and he also cries during sex (canon). wc: 600 :P

♱ DIFFERENT STROKES FOR DIFFERENT FOLKS!

PT. I — umemiya, togame, kaji, kiryu.

PT. II — endo, takiishi, banjo, hiragi.

cw: 18+ mdni. headcanons for how the guys jack off and what their cum is like. wc: 160-200 per chara.

♱ TO DOM A DOM MAN

cw: 18+ mdni. f! reader. drabble abt thoughts from this post. unedited. not about anyone in particular, but whoever he is, he's a little mean. wc: 0.9k

[rainbowstarheart]

Here it is Undertale fans! A full on info about my boi! :D

Description:

CeeGee is a Sans Variant from the Undertale Fandom,who is an OC/Son of Rainbow StarHeart herself! He is The Gatekeeper of his mom's team of Cosmic Guardians!

Appearance's:

CeeGee Sans is a 6'3 feet skeleton with Heterochromia eyes (red and blue)

He wears a long sleeve black shirt with a yellow belt, a sleeveless short jacket that's red and blue, long baggy black pants that has paint stains and black 'n white shoes

His accessories is that he wears bandages on both if his arms (his red fingers are part of his body,same as his feet that is stained in red) he wears a scarf that had his two close friends: Chara and Frisk and he wears goggles that has the same features and functions like his mother's goggles

Personality:

Just like his mother (Rainbow StarHeart), CeeGee Sans is a happygolucky and creative optimistic young man with a heart of pure gold mixed with mischievous cleverness, he is as sweet as a gentleman towards the elders and very childish to those who are younger than him!

Origin Story:

CeeGee Sans was created out of paper from one of Rainbow's 28 Original Artwork

He was hidden away from The Undertale Fandom for a few years due to Rainbow's overprotective nature,but at the time of his 18th birthday,he was free to roam.

Combats/Abilities:

Omni Teleportation

Omni Telekinesis

Omni psychic manipulation

Omnificence

Trivia/Fun Facts:

CeeGee's birthday is on the February 18th

CeeGee name is heavily based on Cosmic Guardians for short of C,G

CeeGee is around 18-20 years old

CeeGee came out as Aromantic Asexual when he was 16

CeeGee has a sweet tooth,but he mostly loves macarons

The scarf that are on CeeGee are Chara and Frisk,their design is inspired by one of Japan's Myths that is Rokurokubi, also known as nukekubi, are mythical creatures from Japanese folklore characterized by their long necks. The term “rokurokobi” translates to “wheel-necked,” referencing their ability to twist and stretch their necks like a snake,this is where I got their design from, however Chara and Frisk's heads and body is the scarf (they're both friendly and won't attack unless CeeGee got hurt first)

CeeGee is obsessed with any types of music and his top favorite is Hatsune Miku's

CeeGee is autistic

CeeGee plays the guitar (mostly learned it from his mother)

CeeGee is a momma's boy

When under the development of both CeeGee and the working conditions of The Cosmic Guardians around 2019, I've decided his best job would be The Gatekeeper of C,G HQ

CeeGee is born out of one of the 28 Original Artwork of Rainbow's 28 Fandom OC's (he is The 18th OC)

His weapon was given by his mother,a black hole scythe and a black hole shield

More will be added soon!

@blo0st4r @vexic929 @kenakostarcat16 @bbjxencanto-blogger @boltthevolt @scally-wiggles716 @sprinklehere @hotelcaliforniaenbydancer @chibitacolord @baxstarmallow06 @iookingle3rd @undertale-person

[withered--s0uls]

Human & Vampire MD AU concept

Tws: childhood trauma, mention (no description of) child abuse, siblings being separated / taken away from parents, parental death

Disclaimer: I'm a System myself, so any talk about DID/OSDD1 here is based off my experiences and adjusted to fit a fantasy setting. This may not match everyone's experience with being a System and I'm sorry if it doesn't match yours or you don't feel it's accurate enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, so my Take on a Human/Vampire AU right?

N & Cyn:

N and Cyn are biological siblings. Their birth parents were not good to them. Cyn (not her name at this point) does develop DID because of this as a young child.

A conflict happens in the family and N gets separated from his sister. They lose contact. N has always been her safe person and safe space, so this experience is extremely stressful and traumatizing. This results in the system splitting a factive Introject of him. "N"s job in the system is to take care of the body physically and emotionally when need be and to be a comfort to the other alters (Caretaker/Caregiver/Soother, Emotional Protector). Aside from "N" there already were two other alters before him.

C & Y.

C is a Protector/Avenger and Gatekeeper, she typically deals with conflict and arguments and is more outspoken about things. However, if a situation requires them to seek a hiding spot for safety she will opt for that as well.

Y is a trauma Holder and little who is stuck at the time of the trauma, meaning they don't age up and are forever the age range the body was during the trauma / when the trauma started.

Throughout the next 1-2 years there are two more fully formed alters (the system probably has fragments that aren't as developed too, but I'll only touch on the alters that matter for the AU story).

Cyn & Solver.

Cyn picks her name based on the three alters already existing, She is the new host of the system (prior there wasn't a clear host). Cyns Identity also is what the system uses as their "Singletsona".

Later on the body gets infected with the vampire virus. How I still need to settle on, but I am tempted to make the parents neglect and abuse part of the cause.

The process of turning is painful and traumatic, and Solver splits. In the headspace, Solver takes the form of the body as a vampire.

Solver is a Persecutor (under the definition misguided protector - harming the system and its surroundings as a form of protection).

They and "N" tend to co front for making sure the body feeds, "N" because it's part of his Caretaker job to make sure they eat and drink & Solver bc they're the only alter comfortable with the whole Vampire situation.

Eventually Cyn finally gets taken away from her abusive parents and the system ends up in an orphanage.

Here they socially officially change their name to "Cyn", wanting to separate themselves from their past life and self. The only thing they don't want to forget is N, and they haven't heard from him since they were separated.

Until one day the Elliot Family comes to the Orphanage - or well, the parents and two of their kids. Tessa and their adopted son.

Said Son and Cyn make eye contact and recognize each other as N & his little sister. N pulls his adoptive parents aside and points to Cyn, telling them that he's pretty sure that's his little sister.

After some confirmation, both between the siblings and also with official documents, the family adopts Cyn as well, reuniting the siblings!

It seems fine until the vampire situation becomes an issue. The family doesn't know. The secret and whole vampire thing in general puts stress on the system.

Solver fronts to feed, and ends up feeding off and infecting N and V. Another night it happens again with J. (Harming the body as a form of protection in this case; making the system feel more ashamed and guilty about the vampire situation to be sure they won't tell someone who could actually hurt them.)

N, V and J after turning make sure to keep Cyn fed so Tessa and the parents never get turned.

Also technically Cyn isnt aware of the system beyond thinking the alters are "imaginary friends". Mainly bc many systems dont figure it out until they are much older so I feel making a kid aware of it would be a little inaccurate. Not saying it never happens but still.

N does take note that Cyn sometimes acts "off" but puts it down as not having seen her in 2-3 years and her probably having experienced more trauma since, not to mention the vampire situation once he learns of that.

Uzi:

Uzi lives with her single father Khan. Her mother died when she was really young for reasons Uzi doesn't know of.

Nori was a vampire, however Uzi doesn't know this. Uzi did inherit the virus but it is dormant and inactive.

Uzi is kind of an outcast at school, bullying and all, ever since she can remember. The only person who doesn't really judge her is Thad who hangs out with her sometimes.

This changed when the Elliots adopted N and he switched schools, joining Uzis class. His friendly demeanor causes him to actively try to befriend Uzi, even tho she's more than happy just hanging out with Thad occasionally. Over time however N manages to worm his way into her heart and they become friends and she starts helping him with math homework.

(V, J and Tessa attend the same school but are in parallel classes btw)

They're friends for about 1,5 - 2 years when the whole Cyn reunion and vampire infection happens.

How Uzi finds out about this is still on the table but oh well. Also, Uzis own vampirism becomes active, turning her too. Now here is two ways I can't decide between this could have happened.

N has told her about having turned a vampire, due to suddenly avoiding places with lots of sunlight and preferring evening hangouts and sleepovers over their typical day/afternoon hangouts. Also he stinks of sunscreen lol. --- one time, N desperately needs to feed but they're in a situation where he cannot do it (be it they are at school or on a trip or whatever - he cannot go away to try and find some wild animal to feed off of) so Uzi offers him that he can gave some of her blood. He hesitates, not wanting to hurt her. She insists because he's visibly not okay and she trusts him. He promises he won't turn her (as vampires can choose whether or not to inject the virus into their prey) and they get a quiet corner for him to feed off her. Everything seems fine until the following days Uzi has symptoms of turning. N had kept his promise, but being bitten awakened her own dormant virus. She doesn't know this tho and accuses N of lying to her and purposely turning her. They argue and their friendship takes a huge hit. Uzi turns to V and J instead of him to ask about what to do and how to keep herself fed and relies on V for help on her first few nightly escapes to hunt. Uzi would shut her down whenever she brings up how guilty N feels and how he misses her. She's mad at him until eventually finding out about her mother being a vampire (still deciding how) and then realizing it's not his fault. She feels guilty for blaming him and thinking he would break her trust and she then does everything in her power to make it up to him. He's upset she would think he's lying and genuinely believe that for so long, but he's happy to have her back.

Option 2 is Uzi and one of the vampire siblings both being hurt. They patch each other up and Uzi notices their blood being black (a vamp hc ive had since I was a teen lol) and asks about it, finding out about the situation. However during the patching up of wounds, some of the black blood enters her wound which activates her own vampire virus.

One option for this is that Uzi hurt herself prior to helping N watch Cyn and Cyn gets hurt whilst N isn't in the room. Uzi helps her and in the process Cyns blood gets into Uzis injury.

[ I am open for situation suggestions with N, V and maybe J ]

J & V:

Dont have a lot about them except that J was adopted first, she's a little older than Tessa even. V was adopted alongside N from where they were in the same orphanage.

J doesn't like Uzi when N starts hanging out with her. V does somewhat get along with her tho and helps Uzi when her own Vampirism activates.

Tessa:

Tessa is unaware of her siblings vampirism for the most part. She did notice them seemingly eating less though and is a little worried about that, she makes them snacks she knows they like to try and make sure they eat enough.

I feel if anyone were to tell her, it would be N. And he wouldn't tell that it's all of them. Only him and maybe Cyn, as he can pass that off as "well we ARE biological siblings after all".

Idk that's all I got for now.

Also Nori was either

killed by Khan after he found out she's a vampire

Died due to extended exposure to sunlight

Killed by vampire hunters

Majorly injured by hunters or the sun so Khan had to take her out of her miserly

:(

[yourfellowhuman07]

For the entrapdak ask game - 3, 12 and 17? c:

3. Ah, now this is a hard one.

In general, their feelings were definitely developed gradually. Hordak of course had his big, hit him like a brick wall, realization when Entrapta says "... at least to me..." and sparks literally fly. Granted he knew he was attached to the princess, but this was the moment he truly realized the extent of his feelings.

Entrapta on the other hand came to the conclusion she had romantic feelings for Hordak when she was analyzing her data surrounding him. She was probably in her room one evening, looked at the data, and had a lightbulb moment where she realized it. Then she immediately ran to Scorpia and told her.

12. When Entrapta was a teenage/young adult, she read a lot of cheap romance novels, and years later Hordak found them while cleaning out a random closet. He laughed about it for days.

Also, during the first few years of Hordak living on Etheria, any money he was able to make doing odd jobs was gambled so he could make more. He was able to cheat the house by counting cards and other strategies in order to triple his income. He was banned from a lot of casinos, and now he's the worst person to play card games with.

17. Ah yes, my original idea for an Entrapdak-centered sequel...

Basically, the clone who replaced Hordak as Prime's general tries to take Prime's place, and at some point, the clone kidnaps Entrapta (I had this idea five years ago, so it's not super fresh in my mind). Also, in my mind, it was definitely a musical. Hordak and the clone would have a duet with the song "Nothing Left to Lose" from the tangled series as Hordak tries to convince him to give up his pursuits. Also, "Love Like You" would have been sung by Hordak at one point. (In my defense, I was in middle school)

In the same vein as the songs, I remember there was a duet between Entrapta and some non-descript guy who had a crush on her to the song "A Guy That I'd Kinda Be Into" where he would think she was talking about him, but she was actually talking about Hordak, obviously. Also, in the background, Scorpia, Catra, and the rest of the Fright Zone Trio would be cheering the guy on, and then be absolutely shocked she was crushing on Hordak. (Again middle school. But, I actually might still like this concept)

(Also, someone else should ask me this question again because I have another, angsty one I'd like to discuss.)

[galleryofart]

The Avenue in the Park at Saint Cloud

Artist: Henri Rousseau (French, 1844–1910)

Date: c. 1908

Medium: Oil on canvas

Collection: Städel Museum, Frankfurt, Germany

Description

At the age of 41, Henri Rousseau quit his job as a customs official to be able to devote himself solely to painting. Self-taught, he developed a style characterised by distortions, incongruous proportions and perspectives. Here, tiny people walk along an avenue with trees lined up uniformly. Every detail, whether in the foreground or background, is, in a certain naïve manner, treated with equal importance. Due to the fusion of dream world and reality in his works, Rousseau is considered one of the pioneers of Surrealism.

[bitchtrxp]

cfmot darkfic time baybeeeee

ummm so

i dont usually post my crap on here or anywhere rlly, BUT i feel it's a bit lame to hoard all my writing to myself so

cw: this fic does deal w/ some heavy topics such as sui, an od is not directly referenced but implied by description and just in general everyone is having the worst fucking time

kratyo is also HEAVILY implied b/c i mean they're cute and i like em (which this fic is NOT)

full fic under cut (it's about 3k in length) and link is here in case y'all prefer to view it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67328809

Seven Words

-x-

It’s been a while. Ever since the reigns of the contest were prematurely transferred to Yoshka, ever since my outburst as the consequence of their conviction, ever since he assured me that, in my absence, everything would turn out just fine, ever since-

“Lord Kratcy! Cheppy has requested for you to partake in this evening’s banquet, if possible.”

Must the Gardener always be so accommodating to me? Cheppy, too. For the past couple of weeks, the two of them have been doing nothing but constantly switching back-and-forth, vigilantly heeding my responsibilities in my place, all while unabashedly dropping by my room every other hour or so. Whether it concerned the contest, my mental state, or simply to offer company in my otherwise pitiable position, it was a guarantee that at one point or another, they’d be there.

Realistically, I should be mad. I should be scolding them for trying too hard to shoulder my burdens, something that should be my job and mine alone. But I’m not. I’m grateful, actually. Because as much of a hindrance it is at times to entertain their optimistic blabber, I’m glad that at least they haven’t shunned me.

“It’s fine. I’ll pass, thanks.” I sigh, fumbling with the tattered ribbon in my hands.

“B-but, Lord Kratcy-”

“No. No ‘buts’. It really is fine,” the memory slips through my fingers as my grip on its probability loosens, “you and Cheppy are hereby dismissed for tonight. Do with it what you will, but make sure that you inform Az in advance before you go and stir up too much trouble.”

No response. Didn’t he catch that? Or could it be, that even he-

“Hehe. Hehehe~!” His whimsical giggles strike a chord within my mind, prompting me to grasp the sheets of my bed and iron myself out as though I’d been pierced by an arrow direct to the ego. Oh, he was not getting away with it this time!

“You know, Cheppy isn’t enslaved to Az,” the Gardener continues as my appal increases at his impish tone, “at least he certainly doesn’t consider himself to be that way.”

Yes, yes, I’m aware! You didn’t have to be so condescending about it, though!

…‘Condescending’? Is that really it? Is my opinion of the Gardener honestly so abyssally in the gutter that I default to the assumption that he’s ‘condescending’ when he dares to correct me? Even after everything he’s contributed to overseeing my wellbeing…

“Thank you very much, Lord Kratcy. Cheppy will be filled in on this development post-haste. In the meantime, I hope you will feel well enough to join us again in the near future.”

Awful. Awful. Awful. You’re awful, Kratcy. ‘Best letter of the Russian alphabet’, my ass. Where were you when Yaori entered the mansion, trembling and stricken with guilt and self-hatred after enduring yet another bout of Az’s prejudiced tirades? Did you even bother to send Yoshka the schedule you yourself agreed to in spite of his protests to handle the contest while you were away? What was the reasoning behind the promise of a ‘schedule’, anyway? On his lonesome… don’t you have any faith in him at all?

“Oh, by the way, sorry to ask so much of you at such a troubling time, but Yoshka is worried sick about you. If you’re able, could you please set aside a few minutes to mail him back? He’s not so bothered by the lack of a schedule as much as he is harrowed about you.”

-x-

“I have no doubt, Yoshen’ka… I have no doubt…”

Kratcy hasn’t spoken much with me since that day. Sparse texts, nothing in the realm of reality, not a single returned call; even when I trek to the mansion every once in a while to check with the Gardener and Cheppy about his condition, all they do is shrug defeatedly and send me off without a fraction of closure on the horizon.

On a marginally lighter note, as the replacement host of Kratcy’s contest, my performance and composure has far exceeded even my own expectations. Though it’s true that I may have had my first minor cry as the pressure of duty multiplied tenfold without Kratcy’s backing, the contestants have not once failed to substitute as my grounding foundation in that matter. They love me, it seems.

But… I’m not happy.

“Yoshka, your cooking is actually sublime!”

“I-I didn’t cook it though, it’s just cat food, as you requested.”

“Doesn’t matter, it tops Kratcy’s in every regard! Seriously, what does that asshole actually eat anyway?”

“Heh, probably dirt. It’s all he deserves, after all.”

“Where he belongs, too, might I add.”

“Knify! Really?! In front of Yoshka?!”

I grit my teeth, burying my urges to retaliate along with the fury accompanying it.

“U-uhm, I understand that the majority of you disliked Kratcy, and I’m not brushing off the validity of those feelings,” I state dryly, “but could you please not talk about him like that? At least while I’m around.”

“Told you so.” Yigroish Bottle departs from the table as hastily as the last of his hesitantly muttered lecture rolls off his tongue. Perhaps it was to evade the nuclear warhead we dubbed Knify’s temper after having dished out a rather uncharacteristic scolding on him, perhaps he was merely fed up of the communion already. Either way, I didn’t care for their bickering. I’m not privy to it, so why should it affect me?

Clearing my throat of the bitter resentment pent up within its walls, I declare, “Anyway, once all of you have finished your meals and vacated the table, we will begin the next contest.”

“Aaaww, another contest already? You’re so cruel, Yoshka~…” Spraysh gathers hers and Yigroish’s empty plates and slinks away dejectedly. Chargery, Socka, Charmy, Putty and Rubbery soon follow suit, each having savoured their respective dishes at their own pace, chatting amongst themselves about various insignificant titbits along the way. Cuppy and Nansensu are among the remainder of those present, presumably out of Cuppy’s lingering disdain driving her to stall long enough for the other contestants to disperse. Eventually, they too disappear beyond the lush foliage, leaving only one…

Knify impatiently pokes at his croissant with his fork, grunting as he miscalculates and flings a section of the torn up savoury snack from his plate, not opting for the ‘five second rule’ – as Spraysh puts it – as it’s discarded to a patch of dirt on the ground.

Dirt.

“Why do you defend Kratcy?”

I don’t even notice that he’d halted his fussing with his food until he projects a question at me. One I’d never have expected to come from him of everyone he competes with. Shaking off Spraysh’s derogatory comment from our previous discussion, I settle to dignify him with a response. I shouldn’t, since nothing I say or do regarding Kratcy will ever move him from his stance of animosity. Nonetheless, I figure it’s worth a shot.

“Hmm, well… I suppose it’s because Kratcy is very dear to me. I’m aware that he hasn’t been the most amiable with you… o-or the others… and trust me, I don’t get it either. No matter how much I press on at him about it, he always stops me short of the topic and tells me not to pry,” I clasp my hands together, unconsciously twiddling my thumbs in the same sense that you’d expect of a character in some cheesy romance flick, “I love Kratcy, though, and I truly believe he isn’t the tyrannical monster you all sized him up to be. I mean, please consider it, Knify: if he was, would I even be here in the first place?”

“And you really feel that way, even in spite of everything he’s done to us?” Knify’s fork clatters to his plate, visibly discontent with my explanation.

“It’s true that he has been horrifically cruel towards those of you who willingly sacrificed their time to participate in his show, and I am angry at him for that, however unapparent it may seem to you. In fact, I still haven’t confronted him about it yet, but I plan to tonight.”

His eyes narrow. Sceptical, I’m sure, but I really do mean it. I’m returning to the mansion tonight on Cheppy’s recommendation anyway. There’s much to discuss with Kratcy regarding his recent standoffish attitude, and I won’t let him pull away from me this time, the ambiguity can’t be allowed to fester any further.

“Never mind, forget I even asked,” Knify suddenly stands upright, almost knocking his chair over in the process, “Charmy can have the rest of this, let’s just start the next contest already.”

With that, he marches off towards the bushes. I huff in frustration.

“Didn’t even take the plate with you… how rude!”

-x-

“Okay, dearies, the next challenge will be to-”

An ominous ringing drains the atmosphere of its serenity in an instant, causing most of the contestants to exchange vacillating glances with one another, each one reading a different emotion than the one preceding it. Confusion, fear, worry… all of it welled up in a concoction of a foreboding omen that was yet to be crossed. Nansensu, of course, was indifferent, an outlier among all of us, as even I was able to instantly identify the origin of the tone.

“A-ah, hold on, I’ll take it. Everyone, please stand by. It’s probably important.”

I anxiously shuffle my way over to the telephone, the thing nearly slipping out of my hand as I discover just how much I was wrack with sweat before lifting it from its restraints.

And I listen.

And listen.

And listen.

And-

I slam the phone into its initial position, startling Yigroish Bottle substantially. Tilting my head around ever so slightly for a fleeting glimpse of the ill-eased crowd, my breath hitches as I vacantly murmur a final declaration.

“O-on second thought, there will be no contest today. Apologies for the short notice, but there’s an urgent situation at the mansion that I must attend to immediately.”

I’m unsure of whether my signature of departure is delivered by sheer habit or excessive resolve. Regardless, as if on autopilot, the words do manage to flit from my lips, if only barely.

“G-good luck to everyone, good health… d-don’t get sick, happiness… and… goodbye.”

-x-

The weight of the air surrounding the mansion was crushing, fraught with dread and discomfort; I’d be lucky if I could choke out any string of coherent dialogue in the midst of it all. Even Az had strayed far from his typical brazen, holier-than-thou demeanour, huddling together with Cheppy and the Gardener as all three contemplate whether to permit the cue for me to enter the premises.

“What in god’s name were you thinking, Cheppy?! Why would you call him here at a time like this?!”

Cheppy shrinks into himself at Az’s staunch opposition to my arrival, as if it even mattered at this point.

“Wh-why wouldn’t I? It’s Yoshka, so if it’s about Kratcy, then obviously I’d want to get him involved!”

Once I’d stifled my arrhythmic panting and collected each and every surviving doubt that had persisted throughout the arduous motions I’d navigated to get here, I rise to my feet and advance towards Az.

“Where is Kratcy? Is he okay?” It’s Az’s turn to waver at my assertive intonation, his expression signing that now he was the one who was backed into a corner, pursing his lips and yielding after a brief pause to attempt to conjure a response that didn’t carry the potential of disrupting the relative coordination he’d assembled any more than he’d already done so.

“…Right. This way, please.” Az leads the three of us through the entrance, the doors having been left partly ajar as to allow freedom in and out of the mansion whenever the residents deem it fit. It’s an alarming contrast to its former purpose, what with the heavily guarded and high-security measures implemented as is common alongside buildings of prominent influential status in the area.

Despite the discrepancy, Az continues to silently usher us up the stairs to the second floor. Many rooms were dotted about the convoluted hallways – mine, of course, bordering Kratcy’s, followed by Zara’s just a little to its side, and finally Yaori’s. The existence of the latter’s abode always baffled me; I was surprised he was even offered one by Az, even if it was shoved into a decrepit corner and was somewhat on the dingy side.

“I believe it’s only fair that I forewarn you, Yoshka,” Az deadpans, “what you’re about to witness in there… it’s not going to be pretty,” he rests one of his palms upon the door to Kratcy’s room, clenching the other into a tight fist, “if I’m not convincing you enough, ask Lastie.”

What’s with the vague statement? And why was Yaori in there? Did he enter on Az’s orders? Why would he trust Yaori with anything relating to Kratcy?

A light tap on my left shoulder causes me to flinch, its source addressing me in a meek whisper, “Don’t do it, Yoshka… please, don’t do it…” it pleads.

“Give it a rest, Yaori, you’re already at your limit…” Zara interrupts, gathering the sobbing heap that was now recognisable as Yaori into his arms. As both fade away into Zara’s room shortly afterwards, I quarantine my apprehension about the situation and reaffirm my intent to press on with Az. Nodding solemnly, he breaches the door, introducing me to an entirely new world of agonising horror.

Kratcy’s formerly well-organised and elegant domain had been reduced to a bleak cesspool of unsurmountable sorrow and littered regrets. The curtains tattered, limply swaying on its supports due to the prominent draught seeping through the cracks in the window; an array of discarded wrappers, crumpled bundles of paper and deteriorating consumables scattered around unorthodoxly on the carpet; his duvet tossed to the side in disarray. Surely, it was a reflection of his turbulent mental realm, his innermost turmoil back when we parted ways. And I was too blind to comprehend it.

Az treads over to the ensuite bathroom as the epiphany of just how dire the situation had gotten barely even begins to resonate with me.

“I’ll ask you once more,” he begins, “are you absolutely, positively sure that you want to see this?”

I scoff at his ignorance. See what? Kratcy? Yes, I’m sure, alright! On what basis would I otherwise even be here for?!

“Please, Az.” Again, I confirm my unwavering determination, scoring a doubtful, yet complacent, nod from Az.

“Very well,” Cheppy and the Gardener interlock their elbows in panicked silence, both fumbling with their tie and apron respectively as they await the fated conclusion of the past few months they’d spent attending to the troubling circumstances surrounding Kratcy, and my subsequent reaction to the revelation, “if that’s truly what you wish.”

Az exhales, lightly tapping the surface of the ensuite bathroom’s door in what, if I had to guess, was probably a meagre attempt at stalling my decision in expectance of a second thought on my part. However, he wouldn’t be graced with anything of the sort, not even at the mercy of mother nature, as a rather ill-timed gust of wind jostles him off-balance, urging him forwards in a gesture that indirectly badgered at him to ‘get on with it’, if you will.

…Seems as though there’s no going back now.

With one final tentative shove, Az shatters the boundary beyond normality, subjecting me to a scene I’d so naively convinced myself would never happen, never in my most abhorrent, reprehensible nightmares…

But that’s the thing about nightmares, isn’t it? No matter how difficult it may be to discern the line between fiction and reality in the moment, it is just that. It’s not real. Sure, you might stumble over hidden meanings and the debate of what could’ve been during the lapses of self-doubt preceding your departure from the realm of the unconscious, but once it’s over, it’s over. It’ll rarely stick with you.

This, though?

…

It’s a scar you’ll shoulder to your grave.

“Kratcy?!”

It’s not even the scene itself that stings the most. It’s the irrefutable, damning fact that I should’ve known. I should’ve seen it coming from a mile away.

“Oh, Yoshka, I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry…” Cheppy’s mournful sympathies are nothing more than a grating distraction to me as I rush to Kratcy’s side, positioning him upright and promptly cupping his cheek with my left palm. Given his current presenting condition, I suppose it was somewhat shallow of an effort. His eyes… oh god, his eyes… so dull, so vacant… the once brisk and vigorous spark that, in all the years I’d served by his side, was a feature so constant I never would’ve pictured it stripped so cruelly from him like this.

It was gone, though. Everything was gone. And, even with its harrowing implications, the truth was that he was gone, too. It wasn’t a reality I could dispute, despite how much I sought to prove it otherwise.

I sharply divert my own eyes from the sight, unable to foster the ever-multiplying guilt as I thumb away the stray moisture still clinging to his lower eyelids.

“I just don’t get it…”

In the midst of it all, I catch the Gardener questioning Az, biting his lip as he does so almost a little too firmly as a few droplets of blood spring to its surface, much to his obliviousness.

“He was fine this morning, wasn’t he?”

“Slightly dishevelled, by the looks of it. Although for the most part, yes,” Az concedes. “Are you sure that the last you ever heard from him was at breakfast? And what of the others? Were any of them in any contact at all with Kratcy over the past few hours?”

As one of only a couple prominent authority figures residing in the mansion, I get that the responsibility stirred by such a major incident must be weighing on his conscience more than ever right now, but… God, does he always have to be so matter-of-fact about it?

The Gardener scrunches his nose up in what I could only describe as outraged repulsion to Az’s blasé attitude. I guess he noticed too, huh.

“Az, could you please spare us the logistics for once and, at the very least, read the writing on the fucking wall?” he spits, his tone laced with an abnormal venom for someone of his subordinance. “Kratcy is dead. Isn’t that something you’re upset about? Correct me if I’m mistaken, but you two were friends, were you not?

‘Kratcy is dead.’

I’m sure it wasn’t the Gardener’s intention to come across as such, but the way in which he just states it so adamantly is nothing short of unforgiving.

My vision shifts back to Kratcy himself, unsure of why I did so or what I was expecting to gain from revisiting the tainted image of someone who no longer even remotely resembled the energetic and iron-willed friend- no, more than a friend. Kratcy was someone I always assured myself I could rely on; someone I was eternally indebted to on account of the unremitting kindness and support he’d displayed on my behalf. I didn’t care how much Knify insisted otherwise, I really didn’t. Because to me, Kratcy was much more than his bitter exterior, he was certainly more than this… hollow shell he’d been reduced to, his expression contorted into one of unfathomable anguish, dried specks of crimson lining his nostrils and the corners of his mouth, a sickening violet hue to his skin that might not have been so out-of-pocket on me, but on him?

“I-I’m so sorry, it must’ve been so painful…” I sniffle between my unconscious ramblings to him, unbeknownst to the tears that had now finally begun to pool beneath my eyes, “it’s all my fault… this wouldn’t have had to happen to you if I’d just ditched the contest right then and there. Continuing without you… I should’ve known better… it’s not really what you wanted, was it?”

Az and the Gardener’s heated argument seems to have subsided with the emergence of my hysterics. I’d mostly tuned it out since I lasered in on Kratcy, to the point where it was merely a background inconvenience at that point.

Expectedly, the Gardener had assumed the more proactive role of the two as he steadily approaches me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders ever so tenderly as to avoid startling me into intimidation. I could sense a secondary presence behind me alongside the Gardener’s, presumably Cheppy’s, since Az was so far from the threshold of potential that it wasn’t even worth conceptualising.

“Deep breaths, Yoshka. I’ve got you,” the Gardener’s efforts to console me were commendable at best. However, as I bury my face into Kratcy’s still chest, I reckon even he knew that I wasn’t about to be moved that easily.

“What you really wanted… was for me to be there… when you had no one else,” I sob, “and I failed you.”

“Wait- …hey, Az! Where are you going?” Cheppy cuts into my one-sided conversation with Kratcy, inferring from the hasty footsteps and disgruntled groans that Az, assuredly having had enough of the dysfunction within the atmosphere, had solved to distance himself from it. For that, I honestly couldn’t blame him.

The future is overcast. I can’t, and won’t ever, say that everything is going to be okay. That we’ll make it out unscathed and our lives will continue as usual. I’ll try, and try… and try, and try and try andtryandtryandtryandtry… but nothing will ever come of it.

A vibration in my shirt pocket causes me to jolt upright.

…Why now, of all times?

I reach into that pocket with trembling, clammy fingers, retrieving my mobile phone from within. Peering at the notification on its screen, my frustration with the interference is absolved, replaced with pangs of gut-wrenching sorrow as I realise that with it, I could’ve done so much more.

It’s from Kratcy. Seven words in total. The chilling finality of someone with nothing more to lose.

Ignoring the substantial delay in its timing, I glance over the message.

I’m sorry.

I love you, Yoshen’ka.

Goodnight.