#big fish cutting skills

[originalbasementmaker]

Minar Carp Fish Cleaning and Cutting Video | Fish Cutting In The Market

Welcome to "Fish Cutting In The market", one of the popular YouTube channels for fish-cutting shows. Here we not only show you different fish-cutting techniques but also introduce you to various types of fishes including sea fishes, river fishes, lake fishes, haor fishes, pond fishes, and fishes from other sources.

[moonbaetarot]

Pick a pile

Random things about your future spouse

1. 2. 3.

Pile 1

Your future spouse dates to marry they don’t go messing around with people they want their wife/husband and nothing else. Your person has been wanting to be married since they were a little kid their parents set a really go example of what love is. They could still be friends with people they met in elementary school and this is because They are really friendly and good communication. Your future spouse could love sending cute little text or writing love letters to you. This person could have a love for cars or has a really nice car they love. (They could also love cats because I kept typing cats instead of cars lol) They only do things that makes them feel good if anyone or anything makes them feel bad they are quick to cut them off. You and this person could’ve had a past life together you two are very much soulmates. Your future spouse likes change they get bored quick. Your person is one of a kind they bright up a room. Your future spouse believes everything is connected, everything happens for a reason and it’s all going to be ok so when you are unsure about something they are going to reassure you everything is alright. Oddly specific Someone future spouses name could be Ryan or you could know someone named Ryan. Your future spouse loves summer, the beach, the sun and summer food. Your spouse could be Leo, Gemini, Sagittarius, Taurus, Aquarius or Capricorn. Your future spouse could be a twin or is a lot like their dad. They love fishing going out on a boat. You or your future spouse dad likes to ride Motorcycles and or has a tattoo of a cross or angle wings Im getting a lot about someone’s dad here there dad was a big part of their life as a kid they really look up to them.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

Pile 2

Your future spouse is successful they have achieved a lot in their life I feel like some of there achievements there parents helped with they may come from money. They are a goal getting if they want something there are going to get it. There love language is gift giving They love buying you whatever you want I’m seeing you walking out the mall with bagssss baby lol (I’m seeing the pink and Victoria secret bags the pink ones with white dots, I know not everyone is going to know what I’m talking about but if you do then you know lol). This person has a loved one that passed away that watches them I feel that they were really close with them as a kid and now watch over them. Someone’s favorite number could be 17. You and this person may move in really quickly When you and this person meet things are going to be moving really quickly. Your future spouse could be a real estate agent sells house, designs house, builds houses or decorates homes something of the sort. Your person is traditional they want to provide for you. They have a good intuition they know how to use their higher power and skills. All this long hard work this person does will pay off. This person knows how to take an L they grow from failed situations they don’t let it get to them. Your future spouse is an hardworking boss man you just have to sit back and see their vision being with this person your not going to have to work if you dream of being a stay at home mom or don’t wanna work in general this person will let you and y’all will with be just fine money wise. I see people being jealous of you two because yall have it all. Your future spouse could have an unusual unique name.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

Pile 3

Your future spouse loves making memories with you I see you two being 80 and y’all’s grandchildren come over and your future spouse pulls out a huge box just of pictures of fun things and memories y’all did over the past decades. your person is at good at manifestating if they really put there mind to something it can become there reality. You and your future spouse may look alike they don’t look like your siblings or nothing lol but yall share the same features. They come from a big family and have a lot of siblings I feel like you may be an only child or only have 1 or 2 siblings tho. Someone’s future spouse is a red head or a ginger or you are. You and your future may meet after you are going through a breakup your going to be like 3 weeks or months post break up and your going to meet your future spouse and your going to be closed off for good reasons but your going to realize why this past relationship didn’t work. This person may struggle with a bit of anxiety. This person visits you in your dreams a lot I feel like even when you meet this person you’re going to have very detailed dreams about your future spouse. You or your spouse could be a water sign Pisces, cancer, Scorpio. They are in touch with their inner child they are really creative and just have a really innocent image of life. Your this person whole world this person loves you so much yall are bestfriends if there was a map of there heart of how much you fill up there heart it would be full (this is such a sweet strong message). Your future spouse may like rock music. You and this person could have a baby boy and girl together. This person is taller than you. Your person may wear glasses or contacts. You or your person may be a bit scared of commitment.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

[svtcrus]

───── `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃 BABY LOVE ME EVENT SERIES

DRAGON OUT OF WATER || NEUVILLETTE X AFAB!READER

SMUT , MDNI

NOTE : neuvi is implied a dragon [not physically] nothing beyond that plot, dom!neuvilette , semi public s3x (they fuck at a lake), rough play , fingering , overstimulation , big pp

synopsis : you & neuvillette are having a date at a secret lake in fontaine, & things end up getting a little heated with the hydro dragon.

neuvillette had suggested the idea of taking you out to this secret lake, secluded from all eyes. he was still learning on how unique humans can be. interacting and creating relationships with humans wasn't his best skill but he tries his best everyday.

this intimate relationship he has with you is a whole new world for him, he's learnt to love through you. and garner quite a lot of human knowledge from you.

moreover neuvillette has also experienced new emotions that leave him quite flustered at times.

he was like a fish out of water .

these fluttery feelings which leave him so hot inside him has him confused. unbeknownst he's thinking such ludicrous fantasies of you, a surge of heat building up from within. however, neuvillette forces himself to hold back, for he doesn't want to be pleading guilty at you for such pervertedness. you were too much of an angel.

this date was intended to be a peaceful romantic time between the two of you. no ill intentions at all. so why is your dragon of a boyfriend walking his way to you with a dark look in his lavender eyes?

it wasn't supposed to end up like this.

but when neuvillette saw you in your skimpy little swimsuit it was like a fire had lit inside him— he could feel his dick swell at the sight.

making the attempt to "put out" this heat by swimming, he'd expected to feel okay right after, since it's worked before whenever stressed. except he didn't. instead he felt worse, and the tent that was growing in his shorts wasn't helping his case either.

"archons.. I can't hold back anymore. c'mere." those slender fingers of his are grabbing either side of your face, forcefully bringing you in for a kiss. your gasp is replaced with a sudden moan, neuvillette uses this to push his tongue into your mouth. the kiss is sloppy albeit. nevertheless his soft lips are melting so easily with yours with such passion, it's making you wet.

your hands are tangling into his wet silver locks, droplets of water are dripping from his toned body onto your own. his free hand is gripping your waist with such obscene force, to simply lay you down on the mat.

only then he feels the tug on his roots that he finally pulls away.

"I.. I couldn't help myself.." he claims— you're both panting, desperately in need for oxygen. lips are swollen, cheeks burning red. your face is displaying something he hasn't seen before.

he's thinking he's screwed up.

"I.. forgive me y/n I shouldn't ha-"

"don't stop." you cut him off. pushing yourself back up, hands grabbing onto his to guide them back across your body. they trace from your hips, to your waist, then to your chest. lewd sounds are slowly leaving those plump lips of yours, his hands unconsciously fondling your breasts through your swimsuit.

"it's okay neuvi.. mm. just touch me like that.." again that flame is ignited, and he's leaning back into you for another kiss. this time its more gentle.

it wasn't supposed to end up like this.

the lustful dragon is now fingering your sopping entrance, in broad daylight. ramming you with three whole fingers, you already felt so full. yet so hungry at the same time.

"like this? do you like it when I do this ma belle?" there he was with that nickname. my beautiful. so shy, so beautiful atop of him. straddled on his lap, movements are feverish, and chasing for a release. your arms are thrown over his broad shoulders all while your whimpers, whines, cries, call out his name.

"neuvillette!"

a loud moan escapes you, the chief is sucking in a breath watching you quiver from his fingers alone. he's never seen someone at his mercy like this before. the heaving, your head on his shoulder, nails digging into his pale skin. cunt all sloppy and wet just for him— fuck.

the way his fingers circle your drenched cunt before entering your tight hole to fuck you once more. he's persistent to make you cum once more, overstimulating your poor pussy.

"m'stop baby.. please~! I need—hngh!" you can barely let out coherent words. look at you. so fucked to the point you cannot even think of anything besides him? how cute.

"what is it do you need sweetheart? hm?" his fingers that are covered in your slick begins to wriggle out his length. lubricating his cock with your sweet juices. not to mention that he's hard, unbelievably hard.

"do you want this ma belle? want me to fill you up?" what comes out of your mouth is another whimper, your mind is too hazy to respond. he lets out a chuckle— oh archons he wants to devour you whole.

then and there along the lake shoreline, this beastly man is rutting himself into you. your pleasantries provide him with furthermore motivation to continue fucking into your velvet walls.

muscular arms around your waist, inhaling your sugary scent, it's got him growling while his cock pounds in and out of you.

you're sucking him in so well, squeezing around his girth like you're asking him for more. this. this feeling. he doesn't want to forget it, nor does he want to stop it.

rather than a fish, neuvillette was a dragon out of water, whose found himself addicted to your whole body.

@svtcrus || 08.19.23 ; BABY LOVE ME EVENT

©️ all rights reserved. do not copy / plagiarize , modify or use my work .

[shuttlecarrier]

some concepts that have been plinking around in my mind.. assortment of some handmade toys from the geoling homeplanet and a child begging their older sibling to let them play with their collection of Annu. optional loredump info about this stuff under the cut ->

since geoling kids take a long time to grow up (they're considered an adult at 22-25 years old), they need a lot of attention and activity during that time period. they would be hell for a human to raise but visually very cute, they're babies that come up to you and babble meaninglessly one moment and then trying to bite and nip at you the next.

they are still quite small at this young age though, so one of the main toys they're given is Kcheha variants. they're stuffed animals constructed from fabric, furs, animal glue, clay (or bone), thread, and nontoxic paints- and come as either an upright plush or something large and floppy.

the more upright kind are more for playing with and being dragged around. they're made durable enough to withstand being chewed on by a child, since babies like to investigate and play with things with their mouth where a large portion of their sensory organs (those whiskers they have especially!) are located near. the floppier kcheha variant are larger usually weighted with fine sand or beads. these are softer and made for sleeping with. normally geolings sleep in large piles containing several members of their familial group, but young children are at risk of being injured by an adult rolling on top of them in this situation, so kids either sleep in their own pile nearby or are kept by themselves in a comfy mountain of floppy toys that simulates typical sleeping circumstances. upright kcheha are typically fashioned after bugs, fish, or other animals and floppy kcheha are often made to resemble geolings. the one in the image was designed to look like one of Wyu'hlkee's remaining island giants, a relatively peaceful animal that digs for tubers, shellfish, and large grubs.

eventually when kids reach their teens and lose their baby stripes or just when they get big enough, they get Annu toys. these are filled with sand and constructed with several layers of a plant derived burlap-like fabrics and a twine made from similar stuff, and come in natural shades of light red to deep purple. they are easy to make and survive wear and tear easily, which is good considering how high energy and more aggressive teenagers are. grabbing a sand filled toy and smacking it against walls (fun and satisfying) or trying to hit a sibling or cousin with it as hard as possible is extremely common (and so is the related: hitting your cousin so hard with a toy they start wailing and you beg them not to tell on you).

however since almost all annu are sand based they have some consequences if torn apart or broken. for geolings, sand has some particular spiritual significance in several of their cultures, and there are superstitions or beliefs that when you fill a toy with sand it invites passed on creatures to live in the constructed body. if you destroy it and the sand falls out you're expected to apologize for it and fix it. they are expected to get damaged though and it's good for teaching repair skills and restraint. most of these toys have the marks of being patched up from years of being thrown around and accidentally shredded. most annu are like big sand filled socks. fashioning them into the form of snake and worm creatures is pretty common. the ones depicted here have the popular look of the geolings 'sea dragons' which are giant worm-eel things that live in the oceans. dragons have been and remain as a very cool thing.

lastly for these Glass Based figurines are usually only for special occasions and given as gifts on holidays. those living on the islands and coasts make elaborate displays with them and enjoy collecting them. they're not great toys if they're more elaborate but smaller more blob looking ones are good for playing certain games with.

they have other more complex types of toys but I only drew a few for this because artfight is coming up and time to draw personal stuff is little. o7

[tinkerbelle05]

Hi i hope you’re doing okay! Could you write something about sanji teaching reader how to cook :)) he’d be so gentle and sweet and also a big flirt the rest is up to you <33

Teach Me To Cook, Please

Character: Sanji x Fem!reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: (Requested) Thanks Pookie, and yes I’m doing great, thx! 🫶🏿

Warnings: character might slightly be ooc, if so I’m sorry! I’m new to this fandom 😅 & there might be typos and the such.

-

You were sitting on the barstool watching Sanji expertly cook dinner. You weren't entirely sure what he was making but you saw salmon so probably that.

Sanji was gifted at many things; flirting, dancing, fighting (though only with his legs because in his words, “Can’t damage my hands. I’m a chef first, pirate second”), looking absolutely stunning. And of course, cooking.

Sanji could make almost anything you asked of him. If you wanted seafood paella, you got it, looking at the lobsters at the market for a few seconds, it’s right there for you when you wake up the next morning. And if he didn’t know how to cook a food you requested, he learned the recipe within a day and cooked it to perfection.

He did everything with a level of care and precision. Every vegetable was cut tin even and identical slices, any meat was cooked beautifully. And he did that for you, every single night for dinner that was just you two. Even after working long hours in a busy kitchen all day for the crew.

He was amazing.

There were many times you wanted to cook something for him but well, your cooking skills were shit to put it kindly. The most you could do was boil water and even that was hit or miss.

But still, you wanted to do something for him for once. Surprise him with his favorite meal after a hard day at work or homemade soup for when got he a cold.

“What’s the problem, love? What’s with the frown on your pretty face?” Sanji asked, his eyes looking into yours but his hands never stopped moving.

You leaned your head into your palm, “Nothing’s the matter, Sanji.”

He decided not to dignify your weak excuse with an verbal response, he just looked at you longer with a blank expression.

You sighed again, “I wished I knew how to cook, that’s all.”

He chuckled lightly, “But I’m here pigeon, I can make anything you want. It’s a small price I pay to be in the presence of a beauty such as yourself.”

See? He said words that made you feel warm and light at the same time. Fuzzy feelings found their way into your heart and made you wanna smile until your cheeks hurt. You didn't know how he did it, where all of his charming compliments came from.

You smiled softly at him, “I know but I still wanna at least pay you back. Maybe you can teach me how to make what your making?”

He considered this for a moment and looked down at his ingredients before he nodded with a grin and beckoned you to come closer. You got up and rounded the corner.

“What d I do first?” You asked after washing your hands, equal parts nervous and excited.

“Cut the vegetables for me, love,” he replied and started to unpack the fish.

You nodded, took the knife and stared at the vegetables. It was a rather manageable request but now your second guessing yourself.

Is there a wrong way to cut vegetables?

What if they are too big?

Too small?

Or not even?

You had no clue. But you decided to start chopping anyway. You attempted to cut the vegetables into big pieces so if that’s wrong then you can cut them into smaller slices.

Yes, that made sense in your head.

After a while of chopping, you felt Sanji staring at you. Instantly doubt clouded your mind and halted your cutting to a stop.

Were you chopping too slow? Too fast?

Maybe the cuts should’ve been smaller?

Sanji stood behind you, he placed his hand on yours and guided your chopping. His cheek rested softly at your head, you could feel his body on yours.

“You do it like this, love,” he said. You watched as he cut the vegetables into thin, even slices with a quickness you didn’t think was entirely possible.

Sanji grip on your hand was strong and firm, he made sure and confident slices. After a while Sanji left you to cut up tbe vegetables on your own. Once you were done, you dumped the vegetables into a pan with oil in it per Sanji’s instructions.

“You know, you said you were a terrible cook but you seem like you know what your doing,” Sanji chuckled. He leaned closer to you, “You sure you didn’t say all of the stuff just to spend time with me?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at, “Oh please, get over yourself. It was just simple chopping. Nothing much.”

Sanji shook his head, “No, no chopping is quite hard, well if you want them to be even that is. But you are just so amazing that it comes that easy to you.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “If you keep inflating my ego, I’d become insufferable.” You stir the vegetables in the pan.

You heard Sanji laugh and felt his arms gently wrap themselves around your waist.

“As if you could ever be insufferable to me? Stop talking rubbish and stir the pot faster, your getting the vegetables all soggy.”

“Oh! Sorry,” you say quickly and stir faster.

-

Tags: @missroro, @alienstardust, @puff-hugs, @msmisasoup, @localcowboyd, @purplepirateadventures, @skys-musical-echo @thatgothic-nerd, @0picels0, @charliepoopyfart, @cielitoot7, @tayharrper, @nikolaevna-art, @simpingmyassoff, @rotin0, @borkbarnes, @villainouspotential, @ramielll, @poketrainer2270, @fujinnn, @n1ght5h4d3-24, @olliewhinchester, @dimplewonie, @penny44224, @fuck-you-im-gae, @ghostysfanfics, @dearest-lady, @hopester08, @avatarkanemi, @fandomsunited, @707xn, @yoongi-holland, @don-tuna, @alienstardust, @darka-moon, @dazaisfavgf, @smolracoon25, @flowerlds-blog, @heydemonsitsyaboilucien, @synchronised-beat, @secretlittlestudyblog, @childofhecate108, @foxflamewarrior, @penny44224, @dragonqueenfk, @wlfrdlvr

Taglist & Reqs Info & Masterlist

[bogleech]

People really liking my speculative animal wishlists and seem to enjoy that I keep doing vampire versions of non-vampire animals, which is of course because vampire bats are adorable and wonderful. They are adorable and wonderful BECAUSE they are vampires. They are technically completely harmless but there's still a chance they will drink your blood while you're asleep and we as a species hate that SO much it inspires horror and superstition of all sorts. So I think there should be more like that but I already have some that are fish and some that are bugs, so here's just my Top Ten Land Vertebrates That Should Have Vampire Versions:

Tarsier. How great would it be if that thing was also a creeping ghoul. Vampire version would be goth colors. I guess it'd be aesthetically like between a tarsier and an aye-aye actually.

Gecko. I don't know how it would obtain the blood, maybe its tongue would have evolved to have a super sharp tip? Maybe the tip of its little gecko nose would be like a sharp hook?

Tree frog. Same issue as the gecko. I'm gonna say the gecko has a sharp tongue and the frog has a sharp nose. A frog with a beak. Let's also make it see through like a glass frog. Just a ghostly little frog that will cut you.

Kiwi bird, using a needly-fine beak tip and excellent climbing skills, much tinier than the New Zealand one and found on every continent. Then the New Zealand kiwi can still be special. Nature specials can be ike "did you know!? The New Zealand Giant Kiwi is the only kiwi that isn't a sick freak"

Pangolin and this one unlike the rest of these would maybe actually be dangerous, like still pretty large for a blood feeder, if you fall asleep unprotected in vampangolin territory you aren't gonna wake up. I just think pangolins deserve to take a little something back, you know. I guess it might be hard for them to sustain themselves on just blood but maybe these would live where there's a whole lot of big juicy animals for them, like they follow herds of buffalo around.

Flying squirrel and I would put this in my own state of Oregon so like a real Fearsome Critter.

Turtle, because to successfully live like a vampire bat you need to be able to detect a blood source, get to it quickly, drink your fill and get out of there just as quickly, so we'd be talking the fastest and lightest little turtle in the world, a long legged scurrying beetle of a turtle, really long neck with a nasty ass beak. Shell could also be covered in wicked as hell thorns for when a rude host wakes up and tries to be mean to it.

Snake and I would also make it the shortest fattest snake so I guess I'm saying a leech tsuchinoko. Like the vampire bat its fangs would have evolved into two short but sharp little vampire buckteeth. It would be too chubby to coil up the way regular snakes do so instead it would have to roll up the way a pillbug or an armadillo does, into a ball.

Pachyderm with a sharp spur on its trunk. Maybe around pug size, a wrinkly hairy wretched looking micro elephant that would probably live off the blood of things like giraffes and zebras and regular elephants while they sleep. Actually like the pangolin this could probably kill you. Every now and then we could hear about how a big game hunter left his tent open and got completely exsanguinated by an adorable hideous vamphant.

[the-californicationist]

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 07)

Soap/Reader

TW: sex

MDNI/18+

AO3 LINK

I'm so sorry for the wait!! I hope this long chap made up for it. I really appreciate all the comments and reblogs. It really keeps me going. The next chapter is gonna be rough. Hope you're ready for it. I'm not!

CHRISTMAS EVE

The lecture hall slowly began to fill with graduate students and professors. A gaggle of undergrads huddled to the side with their notebooks, surely attending by someone else’s command and not of their own volition. They were all dressed in various layers of warmth. Anoraks and sweaters rustled and stretched in the cloth seats, the odd peacoat was hung carefully over the edge of a chair. It was nice to have a small crowd, but you were sure everyone had somewhere better to be. The only people that would show up to the long-standing tradition of a Christmas Eve colloquium were the die-hard academics and those desperately needing extra credit in their year-long lab classes.

You liked this lecture room the best. The big arching stadium seating made you feel like a surgeon in her theatre, carving up your poems and displaying their abnormalities, arguing in favor of their spectacular forms, illustrating your skills with grace and ease. It was all well and good not to be the patient on the table. Today’s victim would be Sonnet 91. 

The projector light blinded you in an unnatural blue, making you turn away from its lens, and you pretended to busy yourself with your notes as you waited for it to warm up. You shuffled the papers again, and you had a sip of water. Just fidgeting. If you stopped moving, you’d think about him, and you didn’t want to think about him. 

He’d gotten your message from Gaz, that much was clear. You knew because you started receiving sunrise texts again — just the pictures, though — and when he needed to go out on a mission, you’d get your little promises. You sent him back what you received. If he sent a sunrise picture, you returned it with your own. If he said that he promised, you said it, too. You wanted him to call. You wanted to drag it out, to gut it like a fish, to see all the entrails of your feelings and the bloody evidence of your battle to be together, all of its innards smeared across a cutting board, sterile and measurable. 

But, for some reason, you couldn’t do it. You tried to type out what you’d wanted to say, but none of it made sense. It was all just begging and pleading and wishing for things you couldn’t have. So, you stopped. You kept up the replies. You matched his energy. It wasn’t until he sent you a screenshot of his flight itinerary that you started to realize the other shoe was dropping on you very soon. 

He was supposed to fly in sometime this very afternoon, but it wouldn’t be only him. You’d heard from Pidge that his whole team was coming with him, eager to meet her and Hamish, apparently. You didn’t know what emotion you felt about that, but its anonymity didn’t stop you from feeling it. 

You’d sent him back a Google Maps screenshot of your apartment, since he was supposed to be your ride up to Old Kilpatrick, and he sent you back the thumbs up emoji. 

It was embarrassing to you that the slight change in send-reply patterning made your heart race. You felt like your brain could benefit from a hard reset, like an iPhone that had chosen to get stuck on the same application, unable to move forward to the next task. 

So, you’d tried to put him out of your mind. When your labmate begged you to take her place at this colloquium, you jumped at the chance. A presentation would take up so much time and energy; surely it would cure you of your obsessive behavior. Unfortunately, Sonnet 91 felt all too timely. 

You watched it populate the screen, the first four lines occupying the cold, unembellished center of your slide, professionally stark:  

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,Some in their wealth, some in their body's force,Some in their garments though new-fangled ill;Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;

You wondered where your glory would come from, if you ever had any. Then, as if to answer your question, the hall door opened and he walked through it, carefully propping it open behind him and letting his three enormous friends through. Johnny was freshly shaven, and his mohawk was back, trimmed on the sides and groomed to stand in a tall, brown shock. You could see the prominent scar on the side of his head, a sharp cross where the hair could no longer grow. 

There was an observable air of confidence to his movements, as if this was his hundredth colloquium, as if he attended them every week. His surety silenced you, and you stood staring, rapt. 

He met your eyes. The bright, glassy blues found you, set in a pleased way, fully at peace. It was the face made when something lost had been found, when a gift was unwrapped. A knowing gleam. 

If you didn’t start talking, people were going to ask you if you were alright. So, you introduced yourself, shakily but smoothing it out as you went,

“Good evening, and thank you for joining us at the 2023 Christmas Eve Colloquium tonight. I love this tradition, and I really appreciate you all being here. If you didn’t get the, uh… the handouts,” you pushed the stack across the desk toward the undergrads who all crowded around them like seagulls with an old French fry, “Okay...”

You pointed up to the sprawling slide,

“In looking at Sonnet 91, most would argue that it is a confession of love. But, it is a tentative one, at best. The speaker claims that despite whatever glory others may have, his glory is found in his lover. We don’t learn until the couplet that his affections are at risk of not being returned.”

You flipped the slide, showing the next four lines:

And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,Wherein it finds a joy above the rest:But these particulars are not my measure,All these I better in one general best.

It was all very simple. This was an easy sonnet, and there was no real mystery, but as you came to the end, you tried to reiterate your thoughts quickly, feeling the pressure to let people get on with their lives,

“The speaker makes quite a substantial claim here, so much so that the audience may be led to believe that he is being intentionally facetious, especially if one were to consider the content of Sonnet 92.”

“No,” a deep voice from high in the back protested, “I mean, I think I disagree with you, lass.”

The whole room woke up. Everyone turned quietly in their seats, generating a symphony of creaking and rustling of chairs and coats, craning their necks to look at Johnny who, for some reason, had stood up in his aisle.

“Oh, how so?” You said politely, trying to be deferential. 

It was more than a little uncomfortable in the room. No one ever asked questions during the colloquium, even though that was its intended purpose, and certainly no one ever stood up when they asked it. Everyone usually just allowed the speaker to drone on and on about whatever topic they were into that week, and there would be polite applause at the end so you could all go home early. Ironically, Johnny had committed an act of rebellion a mere five minutes into your talk. 

“Well,” he crossed his huge arms over his chest, shoving his muscles against each other. Amongst the mostly lithe, soft-bodied academic crowd, he and his friends looked out of place. He raised his voice, sending it arching down to you like an arrow, “I’m pretty sure he’s genuine. Look at the next four lines.”

He pointed to the glowing screen. You sighed, flipping slides.

Thy love is better than high birth to me,Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost,Of more delight than hawks and horses be;And having thee, of all men's pride I boast:

“Look, bonnie,” Johnny chuckled, “I dunno about you, but if I’m boastin’ about a wee hen who’s more than all that — more than wealth, more than all men’s pride? She must actually be somethin’ to boast about.”

You countered, trying to get the talk back under your control, flipping to the next slide: 

Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst takeAll this away, and me most wretched make.

“Then what of his lamentation in the couplet?” You asked pointedly, listening to the sounds of creaking chairs again as everyone turned back to look at you as you responded, “Surely he has some reason to doubt this uniquely prideful love.”

Johnny shrugged,

“He doesnae doubt the love; his life cannae be separated from his love. Love is all there is. Ye ken it from Sonnet 92 when he asks: But what’s so blessed-fair that knows no blot?”

You smiled, slowly, knowingly, and then finished the couplet for him,

“Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.”

You were aware of the implication you were wielding like a knife down there in your theatre, staining your hands and hurling your scalpel at him, accusing him through verse of the same sin you’d thrown in his face the last time you spoke to him: of being false, of betraying Pidge. 

Johnny shifted his weight, frustrated, but standing his ground,

“It’s not… he doesnae think it’s false, hen. Tha’s not it.”

Were you still arguing about the poem? You couldn’t tell. His face had become serious and a little pleading. So, you responded in verse since it would fit the conversation either way, 

“How like Eve’s apple doth thy beauty grow, if thy sweet virtue answer not thy show.”

“And I would bloody eat it anyway, thief. False or no.”

There was an awkward silence and then a short, if a bit unsettled, polite applause. People began to shuffle out, standing, stretching, and chatting with each other as they made their way back into the hallway. A few of your labmates waved at you, and a friend from your cohort wished you a happy Christmas. 

Johnny sauntered down the stairs toward you, leaving his friends lounging in their seats, and as he came closer and closer, you felt like you were the one on the slab of your own theatre, open and vulnerable to the empty room, fully at the mercy of your operator. 

You thought he might pause, that he may stop walking and stand a few paces away, ready to talk things out, but he didn’t. He didn’t even slow his pace. Johnny grabbed you around your jaw with his enormous hand, his wide palm hot against your chin, and he pulled you into him, your lips sliding into his, pressing together like the last piece of a puzzle, completing a picture. 

His body was so warm as you crashed into his arms, and he held you down, pinning you like you would fall away from him if he let go. You couldn’t do much else other than submit to his strength; you didn’t want to do much else. You grabbed him around his waist, feeling him through the thin cotton of his shirt, tumbling into him as he forced your mouth to take his tongue. 

Johnny let go of a low moan, a sigh that couldn’t escape, and the hand that had been holding your face was now fisting your hair and running thick fingers through your soft strands. 

He pulled back without warning, gasping as he whispered to you, speaking with his forehead resting on yours and his eyes pinched closed,

“Did you mean it, what you told Gaz? Am I right? Is this right?”

You took a deep breath, smelling his soap and his cologne, the scent of his skin so familiar to you it seemed like home. His eyes remained closed, and he wore a mask of pain, holding himself back from truly letting go. You nodded, whispering back to him,

“You were right.”

Then, his eyes shot open, finding yours immediately, looking back and forth to peer into both of them at once, searching for even the slightest hint of deception,

“Are you fallin’ for me, mèirleach? ‘Cause I’m… I cannae go halfway. I’m in, or I’m out.”

“I’m in,” you smiled, laughing a little at your confession. He kissed you again, softly petting your hair, holding you close. But, you paused and looked up at him with a warning glare in your eye, “But, look, she cannot know. Maybe after the wedding, but… she cannot find out.”

“She won’t,” he was smiling back at you, making it look like it would be on his face forever, “I’m a professional spy, lass, or did you forget my wee entourage back there.”

He nodded up to his friends. The captain was asleep with his hat over his eyes, snoring in long, regular rhythms. Ghost was using a datapad, staring intently at the screen, and Gaz was using two hands on his cell phone, tapping vigorously, engrossed in some sort of game.

Johnny whistled, quick and shrill. The men stirred, peering down at him and making their way toward you. When they reached the bottom, they all towered over you, ready for polite introductions.

“John,” the scruffy, bearded one shook your hand first. His fingers were dangerously strong, and it shocked you to feel it against your own palm.

A young man was next. You knew it was Gaz, but you hadn’t seen a photo of him yet.

“I’m Kyle,” he smiled. He was even nicer in person, “We texted, before.”

You nodded, smiling back, and introducing yourself.

Then, it was the big one.

“Simon,” the tall blond shook your hand for a brief moment, just enough to squeeze and release. 

“It’s really nice to meet you all,” you said, “I’m glad you made it for the holiday.”

“We try to stick together ‘round this time of year,” Price explained, but you weren’t sure you fully understood his meaning. You just smiled and nodded. 

“You ready to head out?” Johnny asked you.

“Yeah, just need to head back to my place and get my bag.”

“Alright, hen,” Johnny smiled, “Lead the way.”

You led them up and out of the building and into the cold night air. Your apartment was only a short walk from this side of campus, so you decided to forego the bus ride. 

Johnny had your hand clasped in his so tightly that you wondered if he was alright. You looked up at him, and he smiled. You didn’t know how to say all the things you wanted to say, so you just commented on the most obvious one first,

“Where did you learn Sonnet 91? Or 92 and 93 for that matter?”

Gaz interrupted you, turning his head to talk over his shoulder as you walked behind him,

“Bloody stuck in his Kindle for months, he was. I think he read them all, and then he read them all to us. We’ve had more of the Bard than fuckin’ Lizzy the first.”

You gasped and made a face at Johnny, waiting for him to answer for his actions. He just shrugged, his cheeks flushed either from the embarrassment or the cold. 

Price walked up beside him and knocked him a bit on his shoulder, ribbing him along with Gaz,

“Especially that one. What number?”

“Fuckin’ 145,” Ghost groaned.

Then, in unison, the three soldiers all started reciting it aloud, their voices sing-song and purposefully annoying, 

“Those lips that Love’s own hand did make breathed forth the sound that said “I hate” to me that languished for her sake…”

Johnny shoved Gaz back to the front of the group with his free hand, laughing it off,

“Alright, alright, you bastards. I may have read it two or three times…”

“Two or three hundred, Sergeant,” Price rolled his eyes. 

You grinned up at Johnny, humming your pleasure,

“Wow! I’m impressed. Didn’t know you were such a Shakespeare fan.”

Gaz scoffed, 

“It’s not the poems he’s a fan of!”

Price smacked him on his arm, stopping Gaz from being too mean in his playfulness, aware that Johnny had his limits of what he would allow to be said in front of you.

“Mmm,” you answered noncommittally, squeezing Johnny’s hand as it held yours, clutching at you like the end of a rope, holding you like an anchor to his hull.

As you made it to your apartment, you pointed to the small coffee shop on the corner of your block,

“Do you wanna wait somewhere warm? I’ll only be a minute.”

Price snorted, grinning as if he had just remembered a private joke, 

“Go help her with her bags, Sergeant. C’mon, lads.”

The trio left you together, and Johnny waited for you to open the door to the lobby. You buzzed in and waited for the elevator in the quiet foyer. 

He was silent the whole ride up to your floor. You thought he’d have more to say, especially after just getting back from a tour. You wondered what was keeping him so quiet. 

You jiggled your key into the lock and pushed your way inside. Marlowe was on the futon, lounging in her favorite position, but when she saw the strange man in her house, she bristled and fled beneath your bed. 

“Marlowe,” Johnny said, recognizing her. 

“Yeah,” you smiled, grabbing your vitamins from the kitchen cabinet to put in your bag, “Sorry, she’s afraid of strangers.”

“It’s alright, hen. I love your place. Look at that view. You can see the river and everything. That’s class.”

He was being polite. Johnny was way too big for your apartment. With him in the space, it felt like you may as well have lived in a tent. It was such close quarters that you spent most of the time edging around him to get to your stuff. 

“Can I…?” He was pointing down at your bed, asking to sit. 

Recognizing your rudeness, you nodded,

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. Can I get you a water or something? Tea?”

“No, I’m good,” he sat and smiled, still looking around the space, taking it in. To be fair, there wasn’t much to see.

You continued to pack, trying to hurry knowing his friends were downstairs waiting for you. 

“Okay, toothbrush… I think I’m all set. Are you ready?”

“No,” he was looking down at the floor, and his tone was so soft that it made you stop your packing whirlwind to listen to him. 

The silence deepened between you, and you tried to be patient. Neither of you dared to move, but he met your eyes. 

“What is it, Johnny?” You asked, still waiting. 

He stood and walked the half step it took to stand before you. His huge shoulders blocked out the light, and you could tell he was chewing on his words, working them over and over to make sure they were right. 

“I need to know…” he said quietly, running his fingers through your hair again, “I need to know if you are havin’ any doubts about this, lass. I dinnae want to pressure you, and I know I shouldnae be asking you to lie to her, but I need you, mèirleach. I need to know you’re not still havin’ doubts about the way I feel about you.”

Were you? You weren’t sure. You knew he cared about you, and you didn’t have any evidence that he was playing you, but Pidge’s warning still raged in the back of your mind. 

You sighed,

“I don’t doubt that you have feelings for me.”

“But, you think they willnae last?”

“I don’t know, but I want to find out. It’s just hard to have confidence in a secret.”

He furrowed his brow,

“I’d call her and tell her now, if you’d let me. You wanna wait, hen. And I’m fine with that. I am. But, how am I supposed to show you who I am when I’m not supposed to be showin’ you anything at all?”

You didn’t know what to say to him, and it made you feel discouraged. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps you should have kept your promise after all, and this was just too complicated. 

Johnny watched the guilt spread across your face and chased you down with his eyes, his tone laced with dark suggestion,

“Unless you want me to show you now, thief.”

You did. You wanted him to show you everything he was. And, you understood what he was asking you for. The nerves between your legs pulsed, and blood rushed down your arms, excited for whatever he was threatening you with. You wanted him to fuck you right here in your apartment. But, you hesitated, very aware that if you said yes, if you let him show you what he wanted you to see, you wouldn’t be able to come back from that. The guilt would eat you alive. 

“Your… friends…” you picked at the zipper of his thick coat, stepping close enough to him that you could feel his heat radiating from inside the fleece lining of it. 

“My friends can wait, thief. I can’t.”

“Then don’t.”

The same way a bear trap snapped shut, its teeth digging into the writhing flesh of the creature inside its metal maw, that was how he caught you in that moment. You looked up at him, eyes wide and expectant, and you were greeted with a hunter’s smile. He knew he had you, and he went for the kill, putting you out of your misery. His arms wrapped around your body as he kissed you with a high fever, moving from your mouth to your neck as quickly as he could, devouring your soft flesh there, nipping and sucking at you frenzied and harsh. All of his gentle reservedness was gone, pushed aside in favor of sating his wild craving. 

You were on the bed in a second, your back flat, pressed into the mattress by his heavy weight. He didn’t readjust. He allowed his body to pin you down, crushing you beneath him. You tried to rid him of his jacket; there were so many layers between you, and you were eager for there to be none. 

He helped you, shucking off his coat and shirt layers quickly before returning to your mouth and throat, breathlessly panting as he kissed and licked your throat. His chest was bare to you then, and the cold metal of his tags stung your chest as they jingled out of his clothes, falling onto you like two silver coins. You rubbed his body down, pressing into the muscles of his neck and back, feeling them jerk and lunge as he moved above you. He kissed your mouth again, moaning through his nose. 

Then, he was peeling you apart, taking your clothes and tossing them away, pulling off the tissue from a coveted gift. Johnny didn’t even take time to pause at your bra; he just yanked it over your head with the rest of your clothes, unceremoniously. While you were sucking on his tongue and kissing down the scruff of his jaw, you heard his boots thump onto the floor, one after the other. 

All that remained between you were your slacks and his jeans, and he was forced to leave your mouth to deal with the barriers. He made his way to your breasts, sucking on them hungrily, but not playing. He was done playing with you, it seemed. 

He popped the button on your pants and tucked both of his hands into the waistband, grabbing your panties along with it, and ripped them down your legs with a deep grunt. You were naked, and the denim of his jeans raked against your sensitive skin. He was grinding his body against you as you were trapped beneath him, and you felt his hips rock back and forth as he rubbed his cock against your core, trying to use the friction inside of his jeans to find some pleasure, returning to your nipples to lick them into stiff peaks. 

You wrapped your legs around his hips, your thighs halfway between the skin of his ribs and the bite of his belt, letting him thrust against you. 

“Johnny,” you whispered, “Take them off.”

“Not yet, hen.”

You moaned, feeling his crotch pressing hard against yours, but not being able to find any sort of consistency in the texture. 

“Why not?” You asked and begged at the same time.

“Because…” He kissed his way down your belly, settling his face between your thighs, “As soon as I do, I’m gonna fuck you, mèirleach. And I’ve not tasted you, yet.”

His mouth was wet and hot and just what you wanted. Johnny ate you like he was on a mission. There was no careful exploration like the first time. It felt like he was eating you to satisfy his own craving, and your enjoyment was merely a fringe benefit. 

You keened as loudly as you dared, crying out for him as he lapped at your folds, hunting down your flavor. 

Then, he began to speak to you as he sucked on your clit, pausing to say his words before returning to his font to swallow more of you down into his throat. 

“Do y’know how long I’ve waited for this, hen?”

Suck, lick, kiss…

“How many nights…”

Suck.

“...in the sand…”

Lick.

“...in the bloody dark…”

Kiss.

“...waiting to have you in my mouth like this.”

Lick. Lick. Liiiickkkk…

“Oh, fuck, Johnny!” You bit down on the back of your hand, reeling from the pressure building in your center, feeling chills on your arms and chest, “Please…”

“And when Gaz told me…”

Suck.

“...I didnae believe him.”

Lick.

“But, I wanted to. I wanted to believe…”

Kiss.

“...that you were really mine…” 

Suuuuckkkk.

“...mo mèirleach…” 

Liiickkkk.

“...mo ghràdh.” 

You started to come, your hips vaulting into his strong jaws, and his eyes found yours, bright and clear, staring at you, watching you fall apart in his mouth. At the last moment, just before you fell over the peak, he wrenched his eyes shut and sucked even harder, yanking you into a furious, crashing orgasm. 

Then, desperately scrambling to taste the result, he thrust his tongue deep into your hole, his entire mouth suctioned to your pussy, reaping his soaking reward. 

“Johnny,” you sobbed, overwhelmed by the power you felt growing inside of you, bursting across your body like hundreds of little fireworks.

He was back up by your face in a moment, cradling you and kissing you with your come smeared all over his lips and cheeks,

“Shh, shh… it’s alright, lass. I know what you need. It’s what I need, too.”

You heard his zipper and watched him slide out of his jeans, kicking his socks off with them, naked with you once more, and now with full intent. His cock was drooling onto your belly, the precome leaving long, sticky trails as his swollen shaft traced its way up and down through your folds. Johnny’s cock was so hard that it felt like a warm, iron pipe was pressing into you, threatening and dangerous. 

You must have worn the concern on your face because he chuckled down at you, kissing your forehead sweetly as he humped himself against you,

“Too much for you, thief?”

You let your hands meet in the middle, holding his dick with one on top of the other, effectively jacking him off as he thrust forward and back, wetting him with his own lubrication, and you watched him throw his head back in sharp need. You smiled up at him,

“Not yet.”

“Jesus Christ,” he paused, holding his position, poised like a viper. Then, he looked down at you, suddenly serene, “Do you need a condom?”

“No, do you?”

“Fuck, no,” he said, and he immediately sank his head into your softness, melting into you with a slick slide, trusting you implicitly, believing you like a disciple. 

Your body hadn’t experienced a cock as thick and as hard as his. It wasn’t uncomfortably long, but its upward curve was particularly cruel. It was built to torture the soft pleasure-ladden spot inside of your walls, dragging across it as he fit himself inside of you. It took a few thrusts until you felt his hilt, but you were wet enough that your pussy didn’t need much coaxing. He was sighing above you, audibly and full of relief, his face bent and twisted in a perfect torment. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… thief, holy fuck. Oh, Christ. I cannae… oh…”

His thrusts were audible. Flesh pounded into flesh, and the wet noises coming from you seemed unreal. Each and every time he entered you, pressing through you and molding you to his shape, you felt sparks of bliss within your belly, expectant and eager. 

“Johnny… it feels so good. You feel…” 

“You alright, mo ghràdh? Do you… mmmph, fuck… do you need me to slow down?”

You imagined what that would be like, and your pussy railed against it, feral and wanton, fighting any semblance of gentility with sharpened teeth and greedy claws. 

“No, please… don’t.” you kissed his cheek as he lay his head into your shoulder, deep in concentration, rolling in his passion.

Your kiss made him turn to face you, kissing your mouth so softly, with loose, relaxed lips, gently sliding his cheek across yours like a huge cat, rubbing himself all over you. He didn’t stop, but he spoke to you darkly, 

“I’ll do whatever you want, lass. Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“This,” you sighed, moaning as another wave of pleasure made you clench down around him, gripping him from within you with a fluttering squeeze, “You. Just you, mo chridhe.”

You tested out the nickname you’d used before, hoping to encourage him. You may as well have poured kerosene on a fire. He narrowed his eyes at you in disbelief, obviously hearing it and using it like war paint, covering his body in it, staining himself in it, changing himself from the inside out to fit its definition. He lay his head next to yours as he worked his cock within you, grunting through gritted teeth with each heavy thrust. His body started to tremble, shaking with his need to come, and the low, long whine that came from his throat made it sound like he was boiling over with blinding pleasure. 

He took both of his arms and crossed them behind your back, grasping your shoulders from behind in a painfully tight hold. Then, pressed to his chest, he lifted you, settling you in his lap in the lotus position, keeping his cock sheathed deep inside of you. You grabbed onto his neck instinctively, holding him like a lifeline, rocking your hips into him to chase that friction. 

Johnny sighed, pressing his forehead to yours, 

“Yes, yes, yes, thief. Take it. Fuck yourself on me, hen. Use me. I wanna feel you come, mèirleach…” 

He begged so sweetly, and you were happy to oblige. You used his shoulders to brace yourself while you pushed your body down onto him, spearing yourself over and over. At this new angle, his cockhead hit your g-spot every single goddamn time, and you were dizzy from his menacing shape. He snaked his hand between you to press on your clit, not even rubbing it but applying force, giving you something to grind against. The combination of his hand and his cock and his growling whines of struggling for control were enough to do the trick, and you saw white behind your eyes as you fell into a chaotic, plunging orgasm once again. 

“Fuuuuckkkk…” He groaned loudly, his voice turning vicious, “You are mine.”

Your body fell back to the bed and he shoved your legs onto one of his shoulders, fucking you as deep as he could go, stretching you as he did, throwing himself into you as you came down from your high. He was shouting, curses and praises, all in a filthy, animalistic snarl. Johnny just kept repeating the same phrase in a cultish chant, mindless and recursive, completely beyond himself, past reality. 

“You’re mine, thief. Mine.”

As he came, he searched for your eyes, staring into them, showing you his elation. You ran a hand across his scalp, your fingernails dragging through his mohawk, and you saw the whites of his eyes as he rolled them back into his head involuntarily. You held onto his hair and gave it a little pressure, holding his skull in your hands as he filled you with his spent pleasure, his cock throbbing, pulsing rope after rope of hot come into your belly, frothing and foaming around the base of his shaft as he fucked you through it. 

20 MINUTES LATER

You were so worried that his friends would make some sort of comment. As you walked back to the coffee shop, tucked under his heavy arm, you prepared for the playful banter and the jeering. His mohawk was destroyed, and you were both glowing with a sheen of sweat, matching in your states. You knew that they knew. You could also tell that Johnny was bracing himself for the worst, steeling his resolve before entering the cafe. And you thought you would get, at the very least, some mention of how long it had taken to get your bags. But, when you made it to the coffee shop, they didn’t say a word. They smiled, and although they smiled knowingly, there was more affection in it than mischief. It shocked you. After all the ribbing from before, to have none now seemed like some kind of gift. When Johnny realized they were going to let him keep his prize for himself, uncontested, he began to glow with pride as much as pleasure. 

The ride was not quiet, though. All of their stories from Urzikstan and its many dangers started to come out. Price told you about how Gaz and Ghost were almost incinerated in a cobalt mine, and Johnny was showing off his newest badge - a retro SAS pin Price had given him for rescuing the other two from said mine. The blue wings and the motto surrounded a bright sword.

“Who dares, wins?” You asked, trying to see the words in the dark backseat. 

Ghost, who had needed to sit in the front with Johnny because of his height, nodded, taking the pin back from you to admire it.

“Well deserved,” Price commented beside you. 

“Sounds like it,” you agreed. 

Johnny had been so sweet to you after his ferocious lovemaking, you thought all the medals in the world might not be enough to thank the man. No one had ever been so kind nor so attentive. Most of the time, you and whatever lad would clean up separately, maybe watch a show or two and then say your goodbyes. Not Johnny. He spent most of his time admiring your body, making sure you were intact and unharmed. Then, after covering you up with your softest throw, he came back with a hot towel and cleaned you up meticulously. He lay beside you until you felt good enough to get dressed, and still as you were putting your hair up, he made you a tea and finished packing your bag with the things you’d forgotten; your vitamins on the counter and your phone charger. 

When you came out of the bathroom, he had stripped your sheets and put them in the hamper, and Marlowe’s food timer had been set. Her litter box was clean, and the automated litter keeper was reset. You wondered fleetingly if he had wiped down the counters as well. 

The drive felt shorter than usual, especially since your thoughts were on other things. But, when you pulled into Old Kilpatrick, Johnny spoke up to the whole car,

“Look, no one says a fuckin’ thing about us to my sister. To anyone, alright? She’ll find out when she’s bloody meant to.”

The men agreed to keep quiet, but Gaz mouthed off beside you, 

“Sure we can keep a secret, Soap, but what about you? I wouldn’t give you a medal for impulse control, mate.”

Johnny eyed him in the rear-view mirror with a stern glare,

“Aye, but then that’s my problem, you daft bastard.”

 Gaz rolled his eyes, grinning all the while. 

By the time you’d arrived, the only open spot to sleep was a big pallet on the floor of the living room. Hamish was the only one awake to welcome you, and he set you up with pillows and blankets to camp out like a row of sardines. 

“Hey, lass,” Hamish told you, “Go sleep with Pigeon. She’d murder me for leaving you on the ground.”

He looked worn out, and although you didn’t mind sleeping on the floor, you didn’t have any real reason to insist. So, you hugged all the boys good night, making sure not to take too long on Johnny’s turn, and retreated to your post. 

Pidge was snoring softly as you entered the room, and you got ready for bed as quietly as you could, plugging in your phone to the nightstand. It buzzed, and you saw his message flash up on the screen:

Mo Chridhe: miss you 

You: i miss you too

Mo Chridhe: im still in a wee shock

You: why

Mo Chridhe: you. cannae believe youre mine

You: i am. and youre mine johnny mactavish.

Mo Chridhe: promise

You: promise

CHRISTMAS MORNING

Waking up with Johnny and sitting around the tree together with your coffee was every bit like Christmas morning as when you were a child. Instead of presents, you were content to sit as close to him as you dared, pretending to be making room for others by finding spots on the floor beside the gifts and stockings. 

All together, it was Johnny, his three soldiers, you, Pidge, Hamish, Hamish’s mum and dad, and Roger. Rodger had crashed on the couch last night, the Hamiltons had taken Johnny’s room, and now you were all crowded up in the small den, passing gifts around and chatting as you opened your presents. There weren’t many, but it was enough to feel like a holiday. 

Roger got the Playstation he’d been begging for from his brother, and his parents had bought him the games. Pidge had given Johnny a new set of headphones since his had melted in the cobalt mining fire. She also got him a pound of her shortbread cookies, which he was stuffing into his mouth with absolute abandon. He’d bought her a tea set off her wedding registry, and Hamish had landed a very aggressive knife from him. The professor was already being given a tutorial by Captain Price, and you tried not to laugh as he practiced stabbing the air with him in the kitchen. Price was scary when he did it, but Hamish looked downright silly. 

“Okay, alright. My turn. Here,” you gave out your cards to everyone in attendance, but pulled out a box for Pidge. 

“What did you do! I told you not to, hen. I am going to give you a laldy, and you’d deserve it!” She hugged you around the neck and jiggled the box. 

Satisfied with the rattle, she tore into the paper and gingerly lifted off the lid. Inside, she saw the MacTavish tartan, woven into a full shawl, embroidered with a tiny pigeon in the corner, just for her. She inspected it with wonder, her breath fully stolen away. 

“Did you… You made this? Are you doin’ your weavin’ again, babe? I thought you gave it up.”

You shrugged,

“I found a reason to give it one last shot.”

Pidge started to cry real, honest tears, and she reached out for you, clutching the shawl to her chest, sobbing, 

“Thank you, hen. Thank you so much. After they buried mum in hers, and I didn’t… I couldn’t touch it anymore, I just…”

You held her and rocked her back and forth, smiling at her outpouring of love,

“I know, babe. I remember you saying so. But, now you’ve got one of your own.”

For a moment, you stole a glance at Johnny. The whole room was a little moved by your gesture, but he looked… unwell. He was standing behind everyone, and you were the only one looking at him. His hand was clasped over his mouth, and he had tears coming from his eyes, unblinking, letting them roll down his cheeks one after the other, staring at you, frozen in place. He was so unsettled that, for a moment, you thought you’d made some error. But, as Pidge recovered, so did he, and he wiped his face to return to normal; putting on a mask of an expression, hiding whatever he had just shown you. 

“You’re the best damn friend I’ve ever had, hen. And I love you. Dearly.”

“I love you too, Pidge.”

“Here, here, open mine! It’s not as braw as all tha’ you did, but still.”

You were handed a gift bag, and you peeked inside. You found a book of poetry with some incredible illustrations inside, and a charm necklace with a silver boar hanging from it. 

“It’s our wee clan beastie. You may as well be a MacTavish by now, hen. So, I thought you should have it.”

You smiled, letting her put it on you. Then, you hugged her tight, 

“You don’t know what that means to me, Pidge.”

Pidge laughed through dried tears, still emotional,

“Ha! Says you, miss weaver. Honestly.”

You let her gush over it a little more before you retreated back to your position beside Johnny. You pulled out the four smaller boxes from your bag and handed them to the soldiers, indiscriminately since they were all alike. 

“What did you do, thief?” Johnny’s voice was low, and he was grinning up at you, staring at you through those dark lashes.

“Open them,” you urged him. 

They did, and one by one they all pulled out small compasses, made with built-in flint strikers, hanging from tied paracord. It was the most tactical practical thing you could find on such short notice, but they all seemed pleased. Gaz shook it at Price, 

“This would’ve been bloody helpful in South Tobraka!”

You laughed, 

“Well, I’m sure it’s a little too low-tech for you, but Merry Christmas anyway.”

“It’s bloody perfect,” Gaz smiled, clapping you on the back. Ghost nodded, and Price hooked it to his lanyard without questioning it. 

Johnny bent over to whisper to you as discreetly as he could, 

“Gotta sneak off to give you mine, lass.”

You smacked him on the arm, whispering back, watching Pidge like a hawk as you did so to make sure she couldn’t see you,

“Don’t be naughty.”

Johnny laughed, 

“No, no. I’m serious.”

“Alright!” Hamish clapped his hands, causing you to jump out of your skin, “Who’s ready for crackers?”

CHRISTMAS NIGHT

You and Johnny were curled up on the couch with a steaming cup of sweet wassail, scrolling through the photos you’d taken that night. You popped two crackers together, pulling out your paper crowns, your gold and his blue, snapping selfies and reading the jokes to each other. Everyone was in their crowns by the end of the night, and while Price smoked cigars on the porch with Gaz and Ghost, Pidge and Hamish had driven his parents and brother home. 

You were finally alone after having such a full house, and your gift for him was burning a hole in your bag. You were dying to give it to him, but he beat you to the punch.

“Alright, mèirleach, are you ready for your wee gift? It’s probably gonna earn me extra PT for a few months, but it’s worth it.”

“Why?” You asked, setting your cup down on the end table and turning your body towards him. 

“‘Cause I’m not even supposed to have these off-duty, much less hand them over to my American lassie.”

Johnny dug into the neckline of his shirt and pulled out the dog tags that you had encountered last night when he took you to bed. The coin jangled on the chain as he pulled it over his head, and like a medal for an award you had not won, he looped it behind your neck, letting the coin fall between your breasts, still warm from his body and now warm from yours. 

You pulled it up to read its stamp, staring at the words:

O POS 2073521 MACTAVISH SAS RC

“Wanted you to have it, lass. A wee piece of me to keep safe, if you will.”

It was hard to know why you started crying, but you felt the searing tears fall down your cheeks as you stared at the tag. His blood type was what started it all, and you began to imagine all of the times that this thin coin would have warranted such a label. 

“It’s alright, mèirleach, if you dinnae —”

“No,” you raised your hand to his face, closing your other hand around the coin and pulling it in to your chest, eager to keep it safe just as he had asked, “Thank you, Johnny. I love it.”

He turned his face toward your hand as you caressed his scruffy jaw, and kissed your palm, holding your hand with his so you couldn’t escape. 

“I got you something, too. But, it’s small, and now I’m afraid you won’t have anything to hang it on.”

You dug in your bag and pulled out a small cardboard box with a thin red string tied around it. There was no card, there was no name printed on it, but he knew it was him nonetheless. He took it from you, almost snatching it, excited and surprised, not waiting for it to be given. 

“Thief! You didnae have to do that,” he was grinning, and his eyes gleamed, full of sudden joy. 

You’d found an old locket at the charity shop, and your gift had fit inside perfectly. When he opened the clasp, he froze. You’d use a scrap of the shawl that you’d woven for Pidge and cut a little circle from it, embroidering a tiny map of Scotland over the threads, planting a little red heart over what was almost Glasgow. 

“Mo mèirleach…”

“Mo chridhe.”

As soon as you said his name, his eyes found yours and he leaned in to kiss you, clutching the locket in his fist, tight, tight, tight. 

BEFORE DAWN

That night, in his bed, smelling his oranges and cloves, his scent filling your nose, covering you with his sheets, you lay buried in his chest where his tags used to lie, your cheek now warming the skin beneath. You imagined the compasses that dangled from the four sets of keys strewn across the kitchen counter. You thought about the shawl that was wrapped around his sister as she slept in her bed. Holding his locket in your hand, you ran your fingertips over its tartan, borne of the same threads as hers. You wondered about tomorrow, and the day after that, and the year ahead of you, and you felt a tightness in your own chest as you considered the timeline stretching out before you, woven from the choices you and your lover had made together. It was as if you had altered fate’s plan somehow, shunning your intended path and forging one of your own making. What future had you created? Did you have the guile to craft the right course? You held his hand, his fingers laced between yours, and whichever way you went, you hoped that he would be braving it with you.

[artbyblastweave]

Two heroes who, despite previously having cut a swath through dozens of nameless minions, always refuse to kill the downed big-bad at the end of the fight because it would be “dishonorable-” except that one of them views it as “dishonorable” in the sense that killing a non-lethally incapacitated foe who poses no immediate threat to you is a violation of his ethical obligation to use violence only in self-defense, and the other views it as “dishonorable” because killing a subdued foe is like shooting fish in a barrel, there’s no sport or artifice or demonstration of technical skill involved, and since they both arrive at “don’t kill this guy” with the same one-word justification they get decades into their heroic partnership without noticing that their counterpart is operating on a completely different ethical framework than they are.

[kerubimcrepin]

Live-read: "Julith et Jahash" - Part 1

In the past, I said that I would wait for a translation that is currently in the making in the russian fandom. However, because I am weak, and want to keep this blog going asap, I lied. (This liveblog will be very slow due to this, so be warned.)

This comic will let us understand Joris better... while literally all of his personality, morals, body language, and tastes, are a product of Kerubim, — this might shed light on A. family history, that might dictate his physiology (what if Julith randomly says she has an allergy? This isn't real, but it would be big for Joris lore), and the things he went through after the movie: what experience he would have with the huppermage culture, which he was cut off from for his entire life thus far.

Question: is there a single member of this family who DOESN'T fish??

Kramdam is a part of Rok Island, the name of which will be familiar to you if you're A. a player of the MMOs, B. batshit insane about Joris lore.

It might be silly, for me to point this out, but listen: the movie, the series, they all happen hundreds of years before the Dofus MMO, — so to have confirmation that Rok Island is that old, is very interesting.

I had previously said that huppermages aren't very fond of cultures outside their own, and I want to elaborate, so that my words aren't misconstrued: Huppermages culture is, in a lot of ways, a mixture of different classes, — because a lot of huppermages aren't born huppermages, but instead, people who convert to this class, and a lot of their spells are inspired or taken from other classes. However, not assimilating fully is... very unwelcome.

Having a history of oppression and at least one genocide in the years after the movie, made huppermages very understandably conservative and closed-off. But this culture, as we'll see from this comic, had some pretty toxic traits even before those scars.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT. Like I already knew about this, but I want you to understand: the stupid fucking log thing is a family trait.

Do you think Joris told Bakara "I hate magic, I hate magic, I hate magic. I HATE WANDS. I HATE STAFFS. I KEEP BREAKING THEM. LET ME OUT. LET ME OUT OF THE ACADEMY. STOP HAVING ME BE ENROLLED!!!!" and the next day she brought him a fucking log. Do you think this is what happened.

So small, and already sure that she'll never be as good as her brother... man.

Also... Bakara and Joris looked very similar as kids. At least that's my opinion.

I didn't think this comic would make me emotional, but the Jurgen family having a thing for logs is making me violently ill.

It probably was Bakara who gave him that bright idea. And Kerubim was probably like "ok son, I am someone who also uses blunt weapons, I can teach you how to do this."

There isn't some "i like to use logs" gene, it was all just Joris preferring to use melee, Bakara's memories of Jahash's melee skills, and Kerubim's skill in melee fighting.

It is just... insane to me, how Joris ends up doing this one thing that his biological father liked to do, despite how different they are as people. Despite Joris likely feeling absolutely nothing towards the man.

Well, that, or he fucking hates Jahash, though probably not as much as Julith.

Think about it this way, — Jahash and Julith ruined his childhood by their reappearance. They ruined his life for the next few decades too, probably. And after? They would always be a shadow over his life, for as long as they are remembered. It's always either "you're evil and we don't trust you because you're Julith's son" (even though he knows that Julith was framed,) or "you're not good enough, even though you're Jahash's son. How come?" (even though he knows from Bakara that... Jahash was just a man. Even if it is hard for him to put together the almost-holy image of his father as seen on the stained-glass in a temple, and the image of him that Bakara talks about, — a human person, who had fears and dreams.)

The only way for Joris to live his own life, without any judgement or comparison, without being reminded of how shit his childhood was, is to wait for the World of Twelve to forget who the fuck a Julith and Jahash even are. It's logical for him to have some irrational resentment.

And yet he brings a log to a nuke fight in season 4. Jahash would never do this, because he got good at magic, but he WOULD approve.

His parents would have loved him a lot, if they had the chance.

List of things that Joris and Bakara share:

Neurotic perfectionist who struggles with self-hatred about their skills and their body.

Cute ass behaviours and expressions as children.

Alcoholism (this is my fanon for Joris. It came to me in a vision. He's just like Kerubim and Bakara, — needs to get shitfaced to cope.)

Haunted by Jahash's success in life, even though Jahash would NEVER have wanted either of them to be haunted.

Thin grabbable waist and twinkish/waifish looks as adults. (Joris is already a twink, despite his 3ft stature, but NEVER forget the official concept art of how Joris would look if he wasn't possessed by a dragon as an infant. He would be a tall, blonde, anime twink instead.)

Whisperers have, historically, been used as servants by Bontarians and Huppermages.

Though by Waven times, they are enemies of the state (at least dissenting ones), and Joris wants you to beat the shit out of them, for the sake of his beautiful nation. (because they're dissenting)

Jahash and Bakara grew up with their dad, Juvence Jurgen.

By huppermage standards, they lived in very unusual conditions.

"All huppermage towers are super-protected, we WILL die if we don't take precautions, so I will go ahead, and deliver the message myself."

Yeah, no, they're not typical huppermages. I guess Joris has a lot in common with Bakara and Jahash. (I keep making myself sad, thinking about this.)

He thinks that Jahash and Bakara are some local hicks/rednecks that the huppermage has been experimenting on, which raises many red flags. Like the fact that apparently, human experimentation is a thing that some huppermages do. Then he thinks that the huppermage is experimenting on his own kids.

The headcanon that Jahash might have had some learning disabilities that he gave to Joris as one last "sayonara you weaboo shit" genetical move, and that it was REALLY hard for him to learn magic and impossible for Joris, stays winning.

By the way, I guess this is a good time to give you the next, very funny piece of trivia:

Joris's name literally means "George George the Farmer Farmer".

I think it's likely that, historically, before Jahash's success in life, their family were just some random poverty-stricken farmers, who happened to be huppermages.

I'M SO FUCKING SAD ABOUT THEM.

Grandpa Jurgen is literally so fucking real.

THE HEADCANON THAT JAHASH MIGHT HAD LEARNING DISABILITIES THAT HE GAVE TO JORIS AS ONE LAST "SAYONARA YOU WEABOO SHIT" GENETICAL MOVE, AND THAT IT WAS REALLY HARD FOR HIM TO LEARN MAGIC AND IMPOSSIBLE FOR JORIS, STAYS WINNING.

Juvence really cares about his kids.

"If you don't do as master says, he will kill you and all your loved ones."

Guys I'm starting to think, that between this, the political intrigues, the bullying, the "using Bakara for PR while she becomes a teenage alcoholic and not giving a shit about her" thing, — that the huppermage academy and temple, are um.... not actually Good, as an institution.

To most this is "an honour," and yet, this random selection process chose a teenage huppermage who, by all accounts, can't do magic and doesn't know a single spell.

I'm so fucking sad.

You know what else these two quotes can apply to? Haha. well. I ask you to imagine Jahash's funeral, and—— [i collapse on the floor weeping]

"He was always more like a father to her, than an older brother."

I am going to crash my car into the sea. And I don't even have a car.

[anvilsims]

Been working on this for a long long time and I finally reached a point that I'm happy with it. I hope Simmers who are also big Nintendo fans like this.

Shout-out to @tomatomagica/@sims4niya for helping me out with making certain goals and just looking over the rules in general. :)

UPDATE: Slightly changed the goals in Gen 8, please reblog this version.

General Rules:

No cheats unless otherwise stated in generation rules, needed to reset a sim, or for decoration/building purposes.

Mods are okay, provided they do not give you an unfair advantage. What constitutes an unfair advantage is up to you.

Complete each generation's Aspiration

Above all, have fun. If that means continuing onto the next generation without finishing all of the previous gen goals, that’s okay.

(Generations beyond the cut)

Generation 1 Animal Crossing:

Traits: Loves Outdoors/Outgoing/Maker

Aspiration: Curator

You have moved into a new town with nothing but the clothes on your back. Well at least Mr. Nook was nice enough to give you a new home even with the work you'll have to do to pay him off. It’ll be tough but you’ve quite the knack for building and your neighbors seem more than happy to cheer you on.

Move into an empty lot and build a small house. (Optional: Make your house a Tiny Home Residential lot and choose what tier to work with from there.)

After one day, move two single townie sims into your neighborhood and become friends with them (If one of them becomes your founder’s spouse, make a new neighbor to move into their old house.)

Neither the founder nor spouse will hold a job, they will make money via at home activities like painting, fishing, etc.

Have a room to display your collections

At the end of every sim week, use cheats or mods to remove half of your household funds (to pay off your debt to Mr. Nook) until both your sim and their spouse reach the adult stage.

~~~

Generation 2 Splatoon: 

Traits: Creative/Dance Machine/Party Animal

Aspiration: Famous Celebrity 

Despite your humble beginnings, you always dreamed big. You were often found drawing outfits from fashion magazines or singing along to your favorite pop idols or doing cool poses for selfies at the pool. Once you became a teen, you started taking little steps to join that glamorous world.

Become a simfluencer as a teen

Move to San Myshuno or Del Sol Valley once you become a Young Adult

Reach the top of the Style Influencer career (Trendsetter branch)

Host a party once every sim week

Either become or marry a merperson. Heir however must be just a sim.

Max out painting, dancing, and singing skills

~~~

Generation 3 Legend of Zelda:

Traits: Good/Adventurous/Music Lover

Aspiration: Jungle Explorer

Everyone expected you to become a spoiled brat but thankfully you turned out to be a good kid with a love for music and a dream of exploring far-off ancient ruins. You make a friend who supports you all the way but you also make an enemy constantly getting in your way.

Make a friend as a child or teen, become BFFs with them, and stay that way for as long as either sim lives (friend can be a future spouse) 

As a child or teen become enemies with one sim and stay enemies for as long as either sim lives. Win at least five fights with them. (Optional: Have this sim be an evil sim)

Max out the Archaeology skill and one instrument skill

Complete the Ancient Omiscan Artifacts Collection

Get the “Brave” reward trait

~~~

Generation 4 Earthbound: 

Traits: Goofball/Active/Geek

Aspiration: Friend of the World

Because of your parent’s travels, you never lived in one spot for too long. Despite that, you still liked making new friends and finding ways to keep in touch. And you learned to appreciate the magic in every world… figurative and literal.

Live in four different worlds before becoming a young adult

Make three friends and create a club with them (Optional: Make these friends as a child and grow up together)

Max out photography and comedy skills

Become a spellcaster as a teen and work on reaching the top rank

Complete the Postcard Collection

Adopt a dog when your first kid becomes a child

~~~

Generation 5 Pokemon:

Traits: Dog (or Cat) Lover (Animal Enthusiast)/Vegetarian/Socially Awkward

Aspiration: Friend of the Animals or Country Caretaker

Ever since you were little, you were obsessed with animals and even got along better with them than people. Your friends blame your childhood obsession with Voidcritters (even if some of them weren't really animals). When you grew up, you knew you were going to surround yourself with animals.

Complete the Voidcritters Collection

Adopt at least eight pets over your lifetime including at least one stray.

Have both cats and dogs

Open a Vet Clinic (pokemon center) and get it to five stars

Max out Veterinary and pet training skills

OR

Complete Voidcritters Collection

Adopt a fox or raccoon

Have at least one of each farm animal (chickens, cow, and llamas)

Win first place in each animal fair in Henford-On-Bagley

Learn all the animal treat recipes

~~~

Generation 6 Mario:

Heir 1 Traits: Family Oriented/Bro/Loyal

Heir 2 Traits: Squeamish/Clumsy/Bro

Heir 1 Aspiration: Nerd Brain

Heir 2 Aspiration: Mansion Baron

You and your sibling were as thick as thieves growing up and neither of you really liked the idea of one of you moving away so they stuck around. But that doesn’t mean they don’t have their own adventures.

Chose two siblings to serve as Double Heirs, they do not need to be twins

Both heirs take a part time job as Manual Laborers until one of them gets married then the married one joins the Doctor career

The other heir maxes out the Medium skill and becomes a Paranormal Investigator

Both heirs max out Handiness skill

One heir unlocks Sylvan Glade and the other unlocks Forgotten Grotto

~~~

Generation 7 Kirby:

Traits: Foodie (or Glutton)/Cheerful/Childish

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim

You grew up in a very supportive environment with family members encouraging you to try a little bit of everything. You liked helping your family cook but you also discovered a love for acting from trying so many different hats. At that point, you decided that you were gonna be a superstar!

Join Drama Club as a child or teen

Max out the Cooking, Gourmet Cooking, and acting skills

Reach the top of the Actor career

Reach pristine public image

Gain the People Person lifestyle

Once you become an elder, retire from acting and open a business selling cooked meals.

~~~

Generation 8 Metroid: 

Traits: Loner/Unflirty/Noncommittal

Aspiration: Strangerville Mystery

While your parent enjoyed the spotlight, you preferred to keep to yourself with exercising and star gazing. As soon as you were able to, you moved out into your own place in a quiet out of the way town called Strangerville. However it seems your wish for a normal quiet life wasn’t meant to be.

Max out body and wellness skills

Reach the sixth level of the Astronaut career and quit after one shift.

Only take odd jobs after quitting your career

Have an alien child (feel free to cheat/mod to get an abduction or to get a female sim alien pregnant)

Gain the Techie lifestyle

Never marry

~~~

Generation 9 Pikmin:

Traits: Hot headed/Overachiever/Genius

Aspiration: Freelance Botanist

Despite your alien heritage, you adored the world you grew up in but that isn’t to say you had no interest in the stars. You enjoyed helping out at the school greenhouse along with watching for comets and UFOs on weekends. It didn’t take long before you started to wonder if there was a way to combine your love for both worlds.

Join Scouts as a child

Master gardening and rocket science skills

Visit Sixam and befriend three different colored aliens

Complete the Geode and Space rock collections 

Find all three alien plants on Sixam and plant them in your garden (Do NOT buy them in Henford-On-Bagley)

~~~

Generation 10 Fire Emblem:

Traits: Bookworm/Proper/Ambitious

Aspiration: Leader of the Pack 

Growing up, you admired stories of brave knights and kind heroes. While you eventually outgrew the fairy tales, you still wanted to help people like the brave hero kings and queens in the stories.Thus together with your closest friends, you decide to try to make a positive difference in the world.

If a sim dies, you cannot plead with the Grim Reaper nor can you resurrect them in any way

Max out Charisma, writing, and research & debate skills 

Reach the top of the Political Career (Politician branch)

Form a club (forming an army) and eventually build up to recruiting eight members

Marry a member of your club (and if they aren’t already, have them join the military career)

Write a Bestseller Fantasy book

If you give the challenge a shot, either @ me or tag "NintendoLegacyChallenge"

[originalbasementmaker]

Minar Carp Fish Cleaning and Cutting Video | Fish Cutting In The Market

[microwaveable-squish-cheese13]

➤ doe ..

this was js sm i had in my notes, figured id try and post it 🤷‍♀️

pairing: simon 'ghost' riley + medic!reader

the feeling of having an animal's life in your hands was one you couldn't shake.

hunting made you uneasy. ending the beautiful pattern and cycle of another creature's life was something that would grow to eat away at your soul.

you were an impeccable opposite to most of the other people here.

now, that doesn't mean that the other's found pleasure in the act of killing- ending a life and simply moving on with your own.

many had simply grown numb to the feeling. but you knew that there were still a few that felt the same aching pain you did when you would imagine how easily a knife could cut through the delicate string that was life.

you'd seen it firsthand, too.

each of the lines on your palm had been soaked in the blood of another as you desperately grasped at every option to save this delicate string from snapping and shattering.

you knew a bullet to the heart was all it took for this to happen. but if it didn't, you wouldn't have a job.

you would heal rather than hurt. it filled the little gap in your body with something that felt like it could help the growing guilt you felt for every life you couldn't save. every family you indirectly broke.

in return, you grew to treasure the things you had now and not search for anything more than that. you were nurturing and warm, but yet so cold. no one could sneak in and make a place in your heart or your home or your bed. no one.

and just like that, you became a mystery.

you weren't scary or anything. not some looming mass of impending death and ill intent like other mysteries were. you were still kind and warm and everything a medic needed to be, but no one knew anything but that.

then you were hauled from your old post and thrown into the cesspool they called Task Force 141. your skill was highly recommended and appreciated by the captain--- Price, was it?

Garrick was the first of the group you let yourself attach to. he was easy to let yourself down with. with all his jokes and warm outer shell, he was a delightful man. easy to fall in love with too, if you wanted that. but you didn't.

each joke cracked your shell just a bit more.

Soap was next. despite the horribly ugly haircut and honestly repulsing stature, he was a good man and an even better friend.

then Price. he smelled of wood and cinnamon and it made your lips twitch up every time the smell filled your senses. his warm eyes and even warmer words to offer.

this group became your family. each and every one of them. each smile and each word that finally graced your lips was because of them.

it was like something had been opened and that little sliver of light slipped through and your team held it.

all except Ghost.

his eyes would never meet yours. never fully, at least. they would just burn behind that mask of his, simmering in their deadly and dark way. you had seen what he could do and had to deal with the aftermath of it.

but you had never dealt with him. he wouldn't let you heal him. he avoided you like you were the plague itself. but, why?

you had no fucking idea.

Soap would say it was because of how opposite the two of you were.

"the pair of you are like the sun and the fuckin' undertaker, i'm tellin' you." he would tell you. you merely shrugged in the way that you always did. (💀)

but he never stood beside you like the other's would. always in front of you, right there where he could see you.

he didn't think you fit in. not one bit.

like a deer in a pen of wolves. all eyes hoping to swallow you whole, all hands itching to touch what they can't. all of the sex-starved men dying to touch the newest doe in the woods.

you and your big pretty eyes...

you and your small demeanor and even smaller hands.

you and your pretty cheeks that would adorn the shadows of your eyelashes when the sun hit you right.

you.

and you were just a medic. many of the men would throw themselves in harms way or make up fake illnesses to see you. to feel you touch them as you would examine them.

it irked him. truly, it did.

because you were so goddamn fucking oblivious to it all. the way you willingly helped them and had no knowledge of the vile things they said about you in the halls and the barracks. (yikes.)

and you...

you left him be. you didn't press him, you didn't say anything to him without him talking to you first. you excepted the fact that he wanted nothing do with you.

...

it was getting warm again.

summer was creeping up around the corner, brushing her sweet fingers over the hills and across the forest rooftops, gifting the world with new lives. just like every spring did.

you creeped out from your room, your socks doing little to keep your skin from tingling against the cold flooring as you trudged into the main area. the team always packed in here on their days off.

after poking around with the coffee maker for a while, still unsuccessful at getting the coffee you needed, Price spoke up from his spot leaning against the counter.

"hey, ya' know that's broke, right?" he asked, his voice drawing a low groan of annoyance to slip from your lips.

"fucking really?"

"... yeah. Soap put water where the filter was meant to be." from their left, Soap let out a sharp gasp. "hey!" he tried, glaring back at Price. the older man tilted his head at the scott and shrugged.

"yeah. it was honestly pathetic to watch." that was a new voice.

you turned your head, feeling small in your sweater. you felt your own skin grow tight and this uncomfortable heat spread across your body. fuck.

your lieutenant walked in, mug in hand. he wasn't wearing his gear. no one was. they had a day off. a day of peace and normalcy, even if it was for a heartbeat.

your pulse thundered in your ears, the blood rushing through your body all at once as his cold eyes landed on you again. your eyes met his dead brown ones and you swear to whatever god is up there that his jaw twitched under his mask.

"oh fuck off, LT." was Soap's response. but his voice barely registered in your mind.

he didn't wear the skull mask this morning. only the balaclava. meaning; his upper half of his face was visible. but, of course, he wore that dreaded black hoodie and his sweatpants.

at least it wasn't his gear...

but he looked... human. and it hit something inside of you. "morning." your voice was small as it rasped out from your lips. his only response was a small nod, then he moved over to sit down across from Gaz.

"coffee?" Garrick asked, nodding towards the mug in Ghost's hand. the bigger man shook his head in response, his leg bouncing ever so slightly. "tea."

"of course." Soap scoffed from the other room. "you bloody brit's and your tea." you swallowed back a smile as all three of the other men groaned in annoyance.

"surprised you're not wearing a kilt, Johnny." Ghost sneered back, raising his eyebrows. Garrick snickered, taking a bite of his bagel. you let a soft laugh pass through your lips, the sound bubbling up like sweet honey as it filled the still air.

eyes.

there were those eyes again- burning into your skull and burrowing in your chest to heat your whole body.

you had laughed- at his joke. why did that make his pulse jump? it was a foreign and forgotten feeling under his cold skin.

then the eyes were gone. back on his tea and anything else but you. the fragile thing that you wear... hardly any muscle on your little body. only a pretty face and big, round eyes that anyone would say yes to if you pleaded with them.

it was as if you had no idea what you were.

and maybe you didn't.

but he sure did.

"leave him be, LT." Price said, waving a hand. "yeah, casper." you muttered, finding the strength to meet Ghost's eyes with your own. it was as if the world started to crumble under you, your body aching and burning and humming with your pulse.

"leave him be."

Ghost paused, his cheek twitching slightly.

"who the fuck is Casper?"

your brows furrowed slightly, head tilting like a deer's would when they heard something deep in the woods. "wha- who's casper?" you asked, a hand on your hip.

"Casper. the ghost? it's a movie, man."

"yeah.. not ringin' a bell, love."

even he noticed his slip. love. your skin went cold, then burst into flame all at once. your face felt hot and you felt the heat pound between your legs.

love.

love.

love.

love.

lov-

"you there, doc?" Soap's voice chirped in with its usual mocking tone. you swallowed thickly, trying to rid your mind of every thought the darkest corner of your brain churned up.

you straightened your lips into a tight line, hoping no one noticed the thoughts swimming through your brain.

Ghost shifted his hips up, his eyes half-lidded and dark as he pulled the mug to his lips as he pulled back his mask to drink.

his lips. oh my fucking god-

for a white guy, they weren't bad. there was a jagged scar that ran down one of them... the top one. a soft cupid's bow, the bottom was a bit bigger than the top.

imagine them running over your skin, leaving love marks to bloom across your skin like sweet memories... imagine them over your own, or over your jaw or your neck... or down your sternum---

you were staring, weren't you?

oh, yeah. yeah you were.

"doc?" Price's voice. "you catchin' somethin'?" he had asked. but you barely heard him as you tried to calm your breathing and tear your eyes away from the poor lieutenant.

"yeah i um... i jus' don't feel too hot. can i.. uh.. i'll just be-" you looked back at your room. "back. back there."

oh what the fuck was that, man?

perfect save, really. you fucking nailed that one.

a flurry of yeah's and okay's hummed out from their lips, a few worried glances passing your own.

when you were hidden behind your door again, the heat grew and grew and simmered and stayed there. it lingered and festered just as the memory of his lips and his eyes did.

and that was only the first 'incident.'

...

[somethingclevermahogony]

A Recipe for Daropaka and a Korithian Meal

Hello everyone! (More than) A few days ago I said that, as a way to celebrate reaching 200 followers that I would make one of the dishes from the setting of my WIP. I did something similar for 100 followers which you can see here. This time around I put up a poll to see what dish you all would like to see based on the favorite dishes of my OCs. You voted for Otilia's favorite food, a cheesecake (Daropaka) from the land of Korithia.

However because I felt a bit bad about how long it took me to get to this and because I needed to make something for dinner anyway, I prepared an entire Korithian meal, specifically the last dinner Otilia ate before she left her homeland.

I will give a short description and some history for each component of the meal and will also provide recipes. These recipes come specifically from the Korithian city-state of Kalmanati.

BIG POST ALERT

The diet of Korithians is highly reliant on cereals, grapes, and olives. Barley is the most commonly consumed cereal and is used in the bread of most commoners. However, Kalmanati is famed for the quality of its wheat, and particularly among the wealthy, wheat is the cereal grain of choice. Legumes (Lentils, peas, vetch, beans, etc), vegetables (Cabbage, carrots, lettuce, seaweeds, artichokes, asparagus, onions, garlic, cucumber, beets, parsnips, etc.) and fruits/nuts (pomegranate, almond, fig, pear, plum, apple, dates, chestnuts, beechnuts, walnuts, rilogabo(Kishite regalu "Sunfruit"), bokigabo (Kishite botagalu "Northern fruit), etc.) also make up a significant portion of the Korithian diet, with meat (Cattle, lamb, pig, goat, goose, duck, horned-rabbit, game) and fish typically filling a relatively minor role except for in the diets of wealthy individuals (like Otilia).

Vinegar, oil, and garlic appear in almost all Korithian dishes and are an essential aspect of the Korithian palate.

Recipes below the cut!

The components of the meal are as follows:

Daropaka: (Korithian: Daro = cheese, paka = cake)

Karunbarono: (Korithian: Karun = meat, baro = fire (barono = roasted) )

Pasrosi Diki: (Korithian: Pasrosi = fish(es), Diki = small)

Psampisa : (Korithian: Psamsa = bread, episa = flat)

Akuraros : (Korithian: Akuraros = cucumber)

Ewisasi : (Korithian: Ewisasi = olives)

Funemikiwados: (Korithian: Funemiki = hill (mountain diminutive), wados = oil/sauce)

Wumos: (Korithian: Wumos = wine)

Daropaka aka Awaxpaka aka Korithian Cheesecake

Daropaka is a popular dessert in Korithia, however its origins predate Korithia by several thousand years.

The dish originates from a race of forestfolk living on the Minosa, known as the Awaxi. The Awaxi were a tall and powerful race, some rivaling even demigods in size. Aside from their size the Awaxi were also easily identifiable by the third eye which sat on their forehead and the porcupine like quills which grew from their shoulders, sometimes called the Awaxi mantle.

The Awaxi were a primarily pastoralist civilization, living in small semi-temporary communities where they raised cattle and goats. They are credited with inventing cheese.

The first humans that the Awaxi came into contact with were the Arkodians. The Arkodians introduced the Awaxi to metallurgy, and in exchange the Arkodians were given knowledge of the cheesemaking process. This early form of cheese was called darawa (Korithian: Daro) and was typically made from cow's milk and vinegar, the resulting cheese being soft and crumbly, similar to a ricotta.

Unfortunately peace would not last. The Awaxi settled disagreements and debates often through duels, rather than through war. While quite skilled duelists, their culture had no reference for strategy in battle and lacked the proper skills to fend off the organized assault from imperialistic Arkodians. The Awaxi were eventually driven to extinction, though they still appear as monsters in Korithian myth.

The Arkodians themselves would later fall, destroyed by the Kishites, however many of their recipes, including their recipe for cheesecake, would be passed down to their descendants, the Korithians.

Recipe

(Note that Korithia has no distinct set of measurements nor are recipes recorded. Recipes are typically passed down orally and differ greatly between regions and even families. Adjust ingredients to one's own liking) (Also note that this is not like a modern cheesecake, as it utilizes a ricotta like cheese the texture will not be as smooth and it doesn't use eggs as chickens have not yet been introduced to Korithia)

The Cheese

1/2 Gallon of Whole Cow or Goats Milk

1 Pinch of Sea Salt

2 Bay leaves

2 Tablespoons of White Vinegar

1 Large Ripe Pear

6 Tablespoons Honey

2 Tablespoons White Wheat Flour

1 Tablespoon Rilogabo Juice (substitute 1:1 Orange and Lemon juice)

The Crust

1 Cup White Wheat flour

Water, Warm

1 Pinch of Sea salt

The Topping

1 Sprig Rosemary

3 tablespoon honey

2 tablespoon rilogabo juice (see above)

1 Large pear (optional)

Fill a pot with milk. Stir in salt and add bay leaves. Heat over medium heat until milk registers around 190 F, do not allow to boil. Look for slight foaming on the surface, when the temperature has been reached, remove the bay leaves and add vinegar, the curds will begin to form immediately, stir to fully incorporate vinegar without breaking curds. Stop.

Take the pot off of the heat and cover, allow it to sit for 15 minutes.

Using cheesecloth, a fine mesh strainer or both, separate the curds from the whey. Allow the curds to cool and drain off excess liquid.

Preheat the oven to 410 F or 210 C. Grease the bottom and sides of an 8 inch cake pan with olive oil.

While cheese is draining, make the crust. Knead the white wheat flour with a pinch of salt and warm water for about 15-20 minutes, until obtaining a smooth consistency. Roll a thin circular sheet larger than the cake pan. Lay the dough inside, trim off any dough which hangs over the edge of the pan.

Skin and seed 1 large pear, using either a mortar and pestle or a food processor, break the pear down into a paste or puree, there should be no large visible chunks.

Combine drained cheese, 6 tbsp honey, pear puree, flour, and rilogabo juice. Using a food processor or other implement combine ingredients until a smooth texture is achieved. Taste and add honey accordingly

Pour the mixture into the pan, careful not to exceed the height of the crust. Top with a sprig of rosemary and place into the oven.

Cook for 25-30 minutes or until the filling has set and the surface is golden.

Make the topping by combining 3 tablespoons of honey and the remaining rilogabo juice.

Remove cake from the oven and pour the topping over the surface. Allow the cake to cool

Serve warm, cold, or room temperature with fresh fruit.

Karunbarono aka Roasted Meat

Cooking meat on skewers is a staple of Korithian cuisine, so much so that in certain regions the metal skewers or kartorosi, can be used as a form of currency. Meat is typically cooked over an open fire or on portable terracotta grills, though it is not unheard of to use a large beehive shaped oven or baros. The majority of the meat eaten by the lower classes comes in the form of small game such as rabbit or sausages made from the scraps of pork, beef, mutton, poultry, and even seafood left after the processing of more high-class cuts. The chicken has not yet been properly introduced to the islands, though some descendants of pre-Calamity chickens do exist, though they in most cases have drastically changed because of wild magic. Animals are rarely eaten young, lambs for example are almost never eaten as their potential for producing wool is too valuable. Most animals are allowed to age well past adulthood, except for in special circumstances. The practice of cooking meat in this style is prehistoric stretching back far before Korithia or Arkodai. What is newer however is the practice or marinading the meat before cooking it, this is a Korithian and later Kishite innovation.

Recipe

1 lb Mutton (meat used in this recipe), beef, lamb, venison, or horned-rabbit meat (in order to achieve this it is suggested to use wild hare meat in combination with pork fatback) chopped into bite sized pieces

4 Tablespoons Plain Greek Yogurt

4 Tablespoons Dry Red wine (Any dry red will work, for this recipe I used a Montepulciano d'abruzzo but an Agiorgitiko would work perfectly for this)

3 Tablespoons Olive Oil

4 Cloves of Garlic roughly chopped

1 Small onion roughly chopped

1 sprig fresh thyme

1 sprig fresh rosemary

1 tsp sea salt

1 tsp black pepper

1/2 tsp ground cumin

Gather and measure ingredients

Combine everything into a large bowl and stir, making sure that all pieces of meat are covered in the marinade.

Cover and allow meat to sit, preferably in the fridge for 2 hours or up to overnight.

Well the meat is marinating, if using wooden or bamboo skewers, soak in water for at least one hour to prevent burning.

Preheat the oven to 400 F or roughly 205 C. Or if cooking an open fire, allow an even coal bed to form.

Remove meat from the fridge, clean off excess marinade including any chunks of garlic or onion

Place meat tightly onto the skewers making sure that each piece is secure and will not fall off.

Brush each skewer with olive oil and additional salt and pepper to taste, optionally add a drizzle of red wine vinegar.

Place on a grate either in the oven with a pan below it to catch drippings or else over the fire. Allow to cook for 10-20 minutes depending on how well you want your meat cooked (less if using an open fire) Check every five minutes, flipping the meat after each check.

Remove from the oven and serve immediately.

Pasrosi Diki aka Little Fishes

Despite living by the sea, fish makes up a surprisingly small part of most Korithians' diet. The most valuable fish typically live far away from shore, where storms and sea monsters are a serious threat to ships. Much of the fish that is eaten are from smaller shallow water species, freshwater species, or shellfish. Tuna, swordfish, sturgeon, and ray are considered delicacies, typically reserved for the wealthy. Marine mammals such as porpoise are eaten on rare occasions, typically for ceremonial events. Pike, catfish, eel, sprats, sardines, mullet, squid, octopus, oysters, clams, and crabs are all consumed by the poorer classes. Sprats and sardines are by far the most well represented fish in the Korithian diet, typically fried or salted, or even ground and used in sauces. This particular recipe makes use of sprats. Unlike their neighbors in Baalkes and Ikopesh, Korithians rarely eat their fish raw with the exception of oysters.

Recipe

(Note that unlike modern recipes using whitebait, these are not breaded or battered as this particular cooking art has not yet been adopted in Korithia, though it is in its infancy in parts of Kishetal)

10-15 Sprats (other small fish or "whitebait" can also be used)

2 quarts of olive oil (not extra virgin)

Sea salt to taste

Black Pepper to Taste

Red Wine Vinegar to taste

Gather ingredients

Inspect fish, look for fish with clear eyes and with an inoffensive smell, avoid overly smelly or damaged fish.

Pour olive oil into a cast iron skillet or other high sided cooking vessel and heat to approximately 350 F or 177 C.

Fry the fish in batches of 5, stirring regularly to keep them from sticking. Cook for 2-4 minutes until the fish have started to crisp. Be careful, some fish may pop and spit.

Remove fish from the oil and allow them to drain.

Season fish with salt, pepper, and vinegar and serve.

Psampisa aka Flatbread

There are many varieties of bread eaten in Korithia and grain products make up anywhere from 50 to 80 percent of an average individuals diet. This particular variety of bread is most popular in the southern and eastern portions of Korithia, whereas a fluffier yeasted loaves are more commonly eaten in the west and north. This recipe is specifically made with wheat but similar breads can also be made with barley or with mixtures. If you do not want to make this bread yourself it can be substituted with most pita breads. Bread is served with every meal and some meals may feature multiple varieties of bread.

(Note for this recipe I only had self-raising flour at hand which gives a slightly puffier bread, if this is what you want add roughly 3 tsps baking powder)

Recipe

2 1/2 cups white wheat flour plus more for surface

1 1/2 teaspoons sea salt

1 cup whole fat greek yogurt

Olive oil for cooking

In a large bowl, mix together the flour, salt and baking powder. Add the yogurt and combine using a wooden spoon or hands until well incorporated

Transfer the dough to a lightly floured surface and knead by hand for 5 minutes until the dough feels smooth.

Cover the dough and allow to sit for approximately 20 minutes

Separate dough into desired number of flatbreads.

Add flour to each dough ball with your hands and then use a rolling pin to flatten out the dough on a lightly floured surface. Size is up to taste.

Heat a pan on medium high heat. Add the olive oil and cook the flatbreads one at a time for about 2-4 minutes, depending on thickness, per side until the bread is puffed and parts of it has become golden brown.

Akuraros aka Cucumber (Salad)

While the cucumber has become a relatively popular crop within Korithian agriculture it is not native and was all but unknown to their Arkodian predecessors. Cucumbers, which actually originated in Sinria and Ukar, were introduced by Kishite invaders during the Arko-Kishite war and were subsequently adopted by the survivors of that conflict. Cucumbers are associated with health and in particular with fertility. Cucumbers are typically eaten raw or pickled. They may be used in salads or even in drinks, ground into medicinal juices. Cucumbers are additionally believed to ward off disease carrying spirits and may be hung outside of the doors of sick individuals to ward off evil entities. Cucumbers are also fed to learning sages, as they are believed to strengthen the resolve and spirit. A potion consisting of the magical herbs wumopalo and lisapalo, wine, and cucumber juice has historically been used to temporarily induce in non-sages the ability to see spirits. Dill is additionally believed to produce positive effects, thought to ward of diseases of the stomach and cancers. Dill is often used in potions which may effect the physical nature of an individual, these potions are rarely used as their effects are most often permanent to some extent.

This particular cucumber salad recipe is a favorite in the region around Kalmanati, Bokith.

Recipe

1 large cucumber cleaned

2 cloves garlic roughly chopped

2 tablespoons fresh dill chopped

1/3 cup red wine vinegar

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

Salt to taste

Pepper to taste

Cumin to taste

Cut cucumber into thin slices (the actual width will vary dependent on taste)

Combine cucumber and all other ingredients in a non-reactive container and mix.

Cover and store the salad for at least 30 minutes and up to 12 hours.

Serve cold

Ewisasi aka Olives

The Ewasi or olive is in many ways the center of Korithian cuisine, as it is also in Baalkes and Knosh. Olive oil is used regularly and the olive fruit is consumed at all meals of the day including dessert. Olives are cured via the use of water, vinegar, brines, or dry salt in order to remove their innate bitterness. There are hundreds of varieties of olive in Korithia alone, their taste dependent on when they are harvested, how they are cured, the particular cultivar, and even the soil in which they are grown. Kalmanati is best known for two varities of olive, the kalmi, which is red fleshed and meaty, typically cured in red wine vinegar, and the prasiki, a small green olive which is firm and slightly nutty in flavor.

Recipe

Take your favorite olives, put them in a bowl. Optionally add vinegar and herbs

Funemikiwados aka Hill Sauce

Hill sauce is the condiment of choice for most Korithian households and the exact nature of the sauce will vary greatly from region to region. In the north it is most often composed of pine nuts, olive oil, onion, vinegar, salt, and garlic. In the south the sauce is typically far more marine in nature, composed of seaweed, fish, garlic, olive oil, and vinegar. In all cases the ingredients are combined and mashed or ground to produce a pourable/dipable sauce. The sauce itself originates from the center of Korithia around the city of Bokakolis. The sauce was originally used by shepherds to flavor dried meats which may otherwise be dry or flavorless. Its name derives from the ingredients used within these early versions of the sauce, many of which were herbs plucked from the hillside while the shepherds tended to their flocks. The Kalmanatian version of the sauce is similar to this original herb based variety however it adds salt-cured fish and tisparos (Tisi - tickle, paros- seed) , another Kishite import (there it is called lisiki). This sauce is often used with practically any savory food, poured on meat, fish, vegetables, and bread. Often a house may be judged by the quality of their funemikiwados. Among the Kalmanatians there is two varieties of the sauce, a fresh version (the one described here) and another which is typically made with dried herbs and has additional vinegar added to act as a sort of preservative.

Recipe

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

1/3 cup red wine vinegar

2 tbsps rilogabo juice (1:1 orange and lemon)

2 anchovies (or other small salt-cured fish)

1/4 cup fresh chopped dill

1/6 cup fresh chopped parsley

1/8 cup fresh chopped thyme

6-10 leaves of fresh chopped rosemary

2-3 leaves fresh basil

2 cloves of garlic

Black pepper to taste

Ground tisparos to taste (Substitue ground sichuan pepper)

Gather the ingredients.

Combine and grind anchovies, garlic, and herbs into a fine paste, using a mortar and pestle or with a food processor.

Combine the herb paste ialong with the rest of the other ingredients and mix until completely incorporated.

Allow to sit at least 30 minutes, allowing for flavors to develop and properly incorporate with each other.

Serve with meat or fish

Wumos aka Wine

Wine in Korithia predates both the Korithians and the Arkodians, and had already been developed by several cultures on the islands including the Awaxi mentioned earlier. Wine is one of the most commonly consumed beverages, only surpassed by water, and slightly more common than psamarla, a Korithian version of unfiltered beer. Wine has many social, religious, and economic uses and is essential in the trade of the plantbrew, making up the base of many kinds of potion. There are many varieties of wine, with some being viewed as better or worse than others. Red wine is typically preferred for later in the day as it is believed that it helps to induce sleep while white wine is preferred for the morning and afternoon. Wine is typically watered down at a ratio of 2 parts water to 1 part wine, this may be either with plain or salted water. Unwatered wine is saved for special occasions and certain religious ceremonies in which intoxication is the goal. Wine may be sweetened with honey, figs, or various fruit juices. Herbs and spices such as black pepper, tisparos, coriander, saffron, thyme, and even cannabis and opium and various magical herbs may be added to change the flavor of the wine and to promote other effects.

Recipe

Pick a wine that you like and put it in a glass or cup. You can water it down if you would like but I didn't because I am not Korithian and this was a special occasion.

I finally got this post done! If you decided to read through this whole thing, thank you! Let me know if you try any of these, most of these amounts are ultimately a matter of taste, you can change things and experiment if you want.

Now we'll see if I get to 300 followers and we'll do this all over again with the food from another part of the Green Sea.

Thank you all again for following me, I've really enjoyed sharing my WIP with y'all!

@patternwelded-quill , @skyderman , @flaneurarbiter , @jclibanwrites , @alnaperera, @rhokisb, @blackblooms , @lord-nichron , @kosmic-kore , @friendlyshaped , @axl-ul , @talesfromtheunknowable , @wylanzahn , @dyrewrites , @foragedbonesblog , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @mk-writes-stuff , @roach-pizza

[deadbydangit]

Asking them to Braid your Hair

Knight, Spirt, Trickster

Knight

Believe it or not, he actually knows how to braid hair.

Really!

Cutting hair wasn't a big thing during his time.

Tarhos wore his hair braided.

So he's really good at it.

And he doesn't find it super girly either.

Men in his time did it.

It's just a way to hold hair back.

However, he's never braided anyone else's hair.

So it might take him a little while to learn it.

But he learns quickly.

Washed or unwashed, it doesn't make a difference to him.

His was rarely washed.

Although if you brush your hair first, then it would make it easier on him.

He can't do anything super fancy for you.

He has no idea what a French braid or fish tail braid is.

"Fish have no hair! They can not have braids!"

You'll have to explain that to him.

He might get invested in learning other types of braids.

He won't use those on himself.

But he'll do them for you.

And, no matter how much his men beg him to do it for them, he will never braid their hair.

It's only something he will do for you.

Spirit

Oh, totally.

She loves braiding hair.

Like, loves it.

She has a hard time doing so to her hair now.

You know, cause it's floating and hard for her to reach.

So maybe you can braid her hair.

It would make Rin feel so much more human again.

And it's really cute to see her braids float in the air.

It's also super helpful for her, since her hair will sometimes get in her mouth when she's phasing.

Make sure your hair is clean first.

It doesn't have to be freshly washed.

But clean.

And, preferably, brushed.

She's okay at it.

Rin used to be better, but it's harder for her to use her hands now that they're practically severed from her body.

But she's really trying.

And it's actually good for her to work her hands like that.

It improves her motor skills as she learns to use her hands again.

She loves trying to do all the fancy stuff.

Maybe even add a bow or little hair clip.

Something cute.

But, more than anything, she loves it because it's something she can do with you.

Trickster

You want your hair braided?

What kind?

Any particular fashion?

Accessories?

Is it for a special occasion?

This man knows how to do hair.

He'll put the top stylist to shame.

He always had people to do his hair and makeup, but he always preferred to do it himself.

Part of it was him being extra and not allowing anyone to touch him.

So, as often as possible, he'd do it himself.

And he enjoys it.

No, you cannot do his.

He really doesn't like it being touched.

First, go wash your hair.

Don't care if you did an hour ago. Wash it again.

And don't dry it or brush it.

He's doing that part.

And, regardless of what it would seem, Ji-Woon is super gentle.

No tugging or yanking.

It takes him about an hour all together.

But it is the most beautiful braid you've ever seen.

And everything flows so perfectly.

Every little detail is perfect.

You don't even know where he got all those accessories.

It's almost like he's been waiting to do this with you.

And maybe he has.

But he'll never tell.

He just enjoys being close to you.