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norikuna · 3 months ago

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GOO GOO MUCK #3 — jujutsu kaisen x reader choose a storybook to open. aka my mythos take on jujutsu kaisen.

you've turned the page to: CHAPTER III. RYŌMEN SUKUNA go back to the table of contents.

as if he heard me, he smiled. and his face was like the sun. (the song of achilles / madeline miller)

prologue. → at first, a humble servant, now capturing the attention of the king of curses. suddenly, you're caught between fear, desire, and a really irritating demon with a bad attitude.

excerpt.. one of the guards’ brows lifted, as if you’d said something unexpected. the other, still doubtful, scowled. "and what would you know of sukuna's laws?" you privately thought sukuna's laws would be quite simple. if it moves, beat it with a stick. if it moves again, let's grab a sword and hit it twice as hard.

pairing. demon king!ryomen sukuna x villager!reader (sfw but suggestive!)

song inspiration. goo goo muck — the cramps / i can see you — taylor swift

warnings. sukuna is very much himself, rude and dubious and evil. kissing, making out, mentions of blood and injuries and war. word count. 4.6k!

a/n. im actually so happy w this one lol i was having a bit of a giggle writing it. consistent plot? what is that?

ask/comment/dm to be added to a taglist 🩵

mp3. when the sun goes down, and the moon comes up, i turn into a teenage goo goo muck!

they had bound your wrists with iron chains, biting into your skin and doing little to still the tremor of fear that seized you. the villagers around, or at least what remained of them after sukuna's merciless invasion, shuffled forward in exhausted silence, carrying that eerie pall of defeat. you dared not look at the faces of your people around you, sensing that each set of eyes held the same mute dread that coursed through your veins.

and sukuna's fortress was an ugly, wicked thing. no doubt a testament to his dominion and dark prowess. but one could only avert their gaze from the jagged black stone that tore through the depths of the earth, and iron maw of a gate that glistened with dark stains that you dare not name.

a tall and severe figure stood waiting beyond the threshold, tall and severe, draped in robes of silky onyx that swept against dead leaves. a member of sukuna's household, no doubt, and he had eyes of dying embers.

it seemed that everything in this estate was dead, or dying. you could only hope that you would not join the pile of skulls that clattered in rough-strewn piles on the pavement.

"you all belong to the king of curses now," he intoned in a voice of polished steel, "you will serve him with unwavering obedience, and if you do not..." the man trailed off, splayed his fingers against his neck — and he suddenly bared his jugular upwards and your stomach lurched at the sight. lines and rows of stitches, sickly healed, where one's throat might have been cut. a walking corpse.

"act rightly, or lose your head. he has little patience for insolence or error."

and so, you were led through winding halls, walls of dark stone and low-hanging torches. the air was thick with a strange, almost metallic scent of thick blood and burning coals.

at length, you passed a vast and open chamber, a throne room that was unlike any you could have ever imagined. granted, you came from a small village, and thus, had not seen a throne room before so the bar was already quite low.

massive pillars framed the space, rising up like trees, branching and curling towards a ceiling lost in shadows. gathered around the centre was a council of some sort, hulking and dark curses of varying forms, from towering demons with sharp, ridged spines — to giant warriors with dented armour, from the scourge of warfare.

and at the heart of them, seated upon an iron throne wreathed in dark filigree, and dazzling red stones, was sukuna himself. the king of curses. he was massive, even in respose, broad shoulders and four thick arms that were drapes across the arms of the throne. you weren't quite sure where to rest your eyes, on his shock of dusty-rose hair, or the sharp set of eyes that were the colour of dried, old blood.

you felt a shiver of terror crawl down your spine, before curling at the base in loving tendrils, freezing your limbs in place. and then, with a heart-stopping clarity (though none would believe you), his gaze seemed to fall upon you. for a single, unbearable moment, you were certain he was looking directly inti your soul, with a gaze as sharp as a blade and as hot as a forge. you felt every muscle in your body clench, a sharp ache spreading through you.

but just as quickly, you were shoved forward, and his gaze fell elsewhere — almost bored. the rest of the newly enslaved muttered and murmured nervously as they led you onwards, down yet another corridor.

devilry and villainy aside, sukuna needed to hire a new interior design team. because this many corridors and needless, steep stairs were just unacceptable.

still, you felt those eyes burning in your memory, like four brands seared into your mind and the hollow of your chest.

they finally ushered you into a small chamber, little more than an alcove carved out of stone and lined with rows of rough, wooden pallets and blankets as coarse as burlap. here, you were instructed to remain until summoned to serve, the harsh whispers of the overseers reminding you to act “rightly, obediently, silently,” words that had already begun to feel like a new set of shackles.

and so, life in the palace of the king of curses was like treading on eggshells, and you had learned early on (after losing the contents of your stomach several times, watching brutal executions) that to speak out, or draw attention was a risk. one that could end with chains, or worse.

yet today, as you walked the winding corridors, a commotion caught your ear, and you had slung your basket on one hip — peering around the corner. you had turned to see katsuro, gentle and quiet, being held roughly by two guards, his slight frame no match for the iron grip of their clawed hands. one of the guards was sneering down at him, his expression gleefully cruel. poor katsuro was only two winters younger than you, and hardly built for the life of a warrior, rather a sweet and shy scholar.

"you made a mistake, little human," one guard hissed, his fangs bared in a twisted grin that would do his reflection in the mirror no favours at all, "sukuna demands perfection, and you will learn the price of failure."

katsuro's face had gone pale, his dark eyes wide with fear and you could see his hands trembling, most likely mirroring your own at the moment. it was not fair, the 'mistake' had been minor, a missed steps in the protocol for cleaning the great hall for the evening's feast. you were certain that sukuna was too busy terrorising the weak and bathing in blood to notice that the wrong number of lanterns had been strung up.

driven by something reckless within you, you stepped forward before you could think better of it.

"wait!" your voice rang out, catching the guard’s attention. their eyes fixed on you, surprised at the audacity, and your heart pounded in your chest.

they were probably excited that instead of one human to torture, they would get two.

but you stood firm, lifting your chin to meet their gaze, ignoring how your gut was working overtime to make you nauseous. "punishing him so harshly for a minor mistake — would that truly serve sukuna's purpose?"

the first guard narrowed his eyes at you. "and who are you to question his purpose?"

"i am not questioning it,” you tried to reply smoothly, carefully choosing your words like your life depended on it (because it did), “but rather, i’m considering it from his perspective. the king of curses values loyalty and productivity in his subjects, doesn’t he?"

you didn't quite appreciate how the guards were rolling their eyes in your one moment of courage, you just couldn't have anything around here.

"if the servants are in constant terror of the slightest mistake, they won’t be able to perform their duties effectively. fear is powerful, yes — but so is loyalty. if they feel a measure of mercy, they may serve him more willingly, rather than cowering with each step."

one of the guards’ brows lifted, as if you’d said something unexpected. the other, still doubtful, scowled. "and what would you know of sukuna's laws?"

you privately thought sukuna's laws would be quite simple. if it moves, beat it with a stick. if it moves again, let's grab a sword and hit it twice as hard.

"a great deal, actually,” you replied with a steady gaze, but with a lie basically dancing on your tongue. "every decision is weighed, every outcome calculated. a punishment too severe for a minor fault? it's…," you tried not to say stupid, "...wasteful. if katsuro is punished to the point of uselessness, that is one less pair of hands, and the workload falls heavier on the rest of us." you dared a glance around, noting a few other servants lingering, listening with furtive, hopeful expressions. "wouldn’t it be better to maintain strength among his servants? for his grander plans?"

frankly, you were just pulling words out of thin air. making things up and lying to such an extent that your mother would grab a bar of bitter soap and wash your mouth out. still, one had to be an opportunist to survive.

the guard holding katsuro faltered slightly, glancing at his companion. It was clear they weren’t accustomed to reasoning, and though they looked unimpressed, they were not entirely unmoved.

"fine," the taller guard growled, loosening his grip on katsuro with a snarl. "this one’s lucky you spoke for him. but if he slips up again, no clever words will save him."

with a final warning glare, the guards stalked off, leaving katsuro visibly shaken but unharmed. relief flooded you, and you could suddenly breathe again, and you moved to steady him, as his eyes glistening with gratitude.

"thank you," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

had you turned around and paid more attention to the shadows, you may have noticed the king of curses standing with all four arms crossed, biting the inside of his cheek. he never liked those guards anyway.

the morning air had been crisp, a rare light filtering through the stone walls of the estate as you were woken by unexpected news. you were...summoned? not to some distant hall or remote chamber of, but to the throne room — sukuna's command. the message itself was terse, and impossible to interpret, but you had been wrapped in a cloak and ushered out the door.

and there you stood, among three other summoned servants. each one pale and quiet with apprehensions as you gathered at the base of the throne's towering dias.

sukuna sat sprawled across his throne, two arms flat and still against the arms of the throne, and the other two holding his head up — as if this was the most boring task in the world. but his eyes, all four of them, scanned you and the others with a look of dull interest, and he almost seemed to sigh, rolling his eyes in open exasperation.

"so," he began, and his voice was a low and raspy tone, "you four are my new...personal attendants?" the king of curses leaned back, half-amused and half-irritated.

you felt a prickle of irritation beneath your skin at his obvious disdain, it was not like any of you had been gunning for the job anyway. but you held your tongue, reminding yourself that it was better to stay silent than risk having your sliced and pickled head served on a bloody platter for sukuna's morning snack. still, he noticed your reaction, his lips quirking into a slight smirk as he arched a brow.

"something to say, little servant?" and sukuna's tone dripped with mockery, as though he were daring you to speak.

"not at all, my lord," you replied, managing to keep your voice steady. "merely… adjusting to the honour of being here."

sukuna snorted, barely containing his amusement. "honour," he repeated, as if the word were a joke. "tell me, did they threaten you to get you here on time, or did you simply decide to be obedient today?"

you did not like this bad attitude, but frankly, you lacked three major things when it came to battling sukuna. an immortal soul, an array of weapons, and a spine. so you tamped it down, a faint, thin smile tugging at your lips. "i would have come either way, my lord. threats or no threats."

you would swear that his eyes glinted with a mix of surprise and interest, though he rolled his eyes again as if unimpressed. "spare me the heroics," he muttered. "i need obedience, not gallantry." he looked you over with a critical eye, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary. "and i have no use for someone who can’t keep up."

"what a shame that would be for me," you replied, the retort was sharp on your tongue before you could stop yourself. and you felt your heart coil up in fear once more, while you were certain your brain was chasing your tongue around with hammers.

sukuna's gaze narrowed, and a faint, fanged smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "careful, servant. i don’t particularly like attitude from those under me."

you dipped your head, averting your gaze just enough to keep from meeting his eyes directly, you didn't want to lose your lunch. "noted, my lord. i’ll be sure to remember that…if it pleases you."

for a moment, he merely looked at you, his expression inscrutable. then he let out a low chuckle, a sound that sent a shiver through you, something dangerous and thrilling laced in its depths. "very well, then,” he said at last, sounding almost amused. "if you’re so eager to please, you’ll start by attending me closely — very closely. i do like being pleased."

how crass.

you swallowed, catching his faint smirk as he dismissed you all with with a lazy wave of one lower hand, but not before he smiled at you. a cruel and wicked curve of his mouth, but it felt like the heat of a thousand suns. whatever game this was, he intended to play it with you — on his terms.

over the next following weeks, sukuna's summons became frequent and baffling, his demands were a tangle of trivial tasks and strange whims. he seemed to relish keeping you guessing, testing the limits of both your patience and your compliance.

he would call for you in the mornings to help arrange his robes — an affair in which you found yourself having to climb onto a small wooden box to even reach his shoulders, carefully smoothing the crimson and black fabric over the width of his frame. with his arms stretching out from every side, you had to manoeuvre and balance each fold with precise care. and sukuna just watched you intently, an amused smirk tugging at his red-wine lips as you struggled, muttering instructions that barely felt necessary.

yes, you knew how to tie a simple knot.

in the evenings, he’d request you make him tea — a task simple enough, but then he’d take his time to drink it. each sip was drawn out, his gaze occasionally sliding over to meet yours, one brow arched ever so slightly, a smug satisfaction radiating from his silence. he would take another long, slow sip, before turning back to the window, as you shifted your weight from foot to foot, wondering if it was acceptable to launch boiling water at the king of curses. just as a treat.

and then you had been summoned to his chambers to polish a set of blades that had seen their fair share of battles, surely the one that took the lives of your own village, and you shuddered. the blades were heavy, each one forged with a dark, tempered steel that seemed to drink in the dim candlelight. as you worked, your hand slipped, and the edge of one blade sliced through your skin, leaving a sharp, stinging pain and a line of red across your palm. you hissed under your breath, pressing the wound to your tunic as the blood quickly seeped through your fingers.

"stupid," came his voice from behind you, sharp and cold as steel itself. you turned to see sukuna watching, leaning against the doorway with an expression hovering between annoyance and satisfaction, as though your injury were just another way you’d managed to disappoint him, and now he could unleash his tongue upon you. "are you intent on making a mess of my things, or are you simply that clumsy?"

you opened your mouth to retort, a spark of irritation flaring, but bit it back, too exhausted to argue. "it’s just a scratch, my lord," you replied, though the blood was beginning to drip onto the rich furs sprawled across the floor. you quickly wrapped your hand in your sleeve to hide it, hoping to avoid further scorn.

but sukuna must have seen. he let out a low sigh, crossing the room in a few slow strides, and took hold of your wrist, and surprisingly, without a grip that would snap your bones. for a moment, he simply stared down at the cut, his four eyes narrowing with something that looked suspiciously like...regret.

"how ridiculous," he muttered, more to himself than to you, and with a curt wave, he pulled out a cloth from under the blades. but his hands were large, and searing with heat, as they held yours with a shocking deftness as he bandaged the cut.

you dared a glance up at sukuna, only to find his expression unreadable, his gaze focused intently on the task at hand. when he finally spoke, his voice had lost its usual harshness, his tone quiet, almost distant.

"try not to stain the rest of my furs with your carelessness next time," he said, though the words lacked their usual bite.

you wondered if it had finally happened, he'd really lost his mind. there had been no threats of disemboweling, no burning, no being trampled under horses while he ate peaches in the shade of his favourite tree (yes, his threats were that specific).

you murmured a huffed response, more of a mumble, suddenly feeling quite stifled. but sukuna's hands lingered on yours for just a moment longer than necessary, his gaze distant yet searching, as though seeing something he hadn’t expected. then the king of curses drew back, the walls you’d glimpsed in that moment quickly slamming back into place as he straightened, stepping away with a curt nod.

“just go, get some rest before you inconvenience me more," he muttered, barely looking at you now, his tone cool and dismissive. but for the first time, it seemed as though he were hiding something, something even he didn’t quite know how to name.

the air in sukuna's quarters was thick with the scent of burnt incense and faintly lingering smoke, a reminder of the battles he waged just hours ago. as you moved quietly about the room, collecting and folding the strewn garments, you glanced at him, sullen and seated on the edge of his bed. a dark, odious blood was seeping through the bandages wrapped tightly around his torso, three jagged wounds crossing his chest and back where the arrows had pierced. though the arrows were long removed, the gashes looked raw and angry, staining the linen with every breath he took.

sukuna noticed your stare, and with a small, reluctant grunt, he beckoned you over. "the bandages…" he muttered, voice heavy with fatigue but his tone demanding. "fix them, redress them. i don't need another healer bumbling over it."

you swallowed, nerves prickling as you gathered fresh cloth and approached him. you so hated wounds, and the sight of blood but it was better than seeing your own spilled for defying him. sukuna remained still, watching you through half-lidded red eyes, his body larger than life, his skin faintly gleaming in the dim light. but he leaned forward slightly, allowing you to reach the wound. with slow, careful hands, you unwrapped the old bandage, then pressed the clean cloth to his skin, feeling the solid warmth radiate from his chest, searing your fingertips with its intensity.

as you worked, wrapping the bandage around his vast, muscular torso, you did your best not to breathe, not with each breath of his matching the rise and fall of your own. and you tried to ignore how his eyes were flickering over you with an intensity that made your heart stammer.

when you finished, the king of curses didn’t move. instead, he brought his hand up, fingers grazing your chin as he tilted your face to meet his. and the pads of his fingers dug into the skin of your jaw.

"tell me…" he began, his voice low, each word a slow murmur. "do you see me as a monster?"

your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, the words were lost to you. his hand remained firm on your chin, holding you in place as you searched his face — the high cheekbones, the strong jaw, each line and scar a mark of the warrior he was, of the warlord who had taken everything from you. you closed your eyes briefly, feeling the ghosts of flames from your village flicker in your memory.

"it’s… hard to forget what you did," you replied, your voice a whisper, yet steady. "it’s hard to forget that you burned down my village."

a flicker of something — anger, resignation — crossed his face. sukuna let out a long, quiet exhale, a shadow of bitterness touching his voice as he said, "a tiger cannot change its stripes. being a beast is in my nature. i am what i was made to be. you cannot expect elsewise from me, nor would i try to promise it to you."

you held his gaze, your heart beating harder. "i know that now."

his thumb brushed softly against your jaw, lingering. there was something dark and magnetic in his gaze, a glint of restrained hunger that sent a thrill through you, a pulse of awareness that you were crossing an invisible line. maybe someone had hit you on the head, messing with your cognitive awareness. he leaned forward, his face mere inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin as his two sets eyes dipped to your lips.

for one heart-stopping moment, you felt his mouth ghost near yours, a feather-light touch as though testing, hesitating. the world around you seemed to vanish, leaving only him, and his dangerous restraint.

but then, he drew back, jaw set as he tore his gaze away, his hand dropping from your face as though burned. he said nothing, his expression now closed, guarded, as if he, too, was reeling from whatever had just passed between you. you took a shaky step back, pulse racing, not daring to break the silence as you quickly left the room, with some false excuse of disposing of the old bandages (you were going to ask someone else to do it for you).

sukuna's attention had grown increasingly overt, his dark gaze trailing you with a possessive weight whenever you entered the throne room or crossed his path in the vast, torch-lit corridors of his palace. whispers fluttered among the other servants, the concubines, and the court. it was impossible (and almost embarrassing) to ignore the quiet looks and questioning glances they cast your way.

still, a demon could never be expected to be patient forever, and he had sought you out, appearing in the corridor as you were preparing to leave his chambers. his large hand moved to your waist in a firm, claiming gesture, pulling you to him without hesitation, as though he was unbothered by the curious stares around him. you briefly wondered at how just one arm could snap your spine in half, but his touch was almost...fragile.

"you’ve intrigued me," he murmured, his eyes blood-red, glinting as they locked onto yours. "in a way no other has. why do you deny this?" his tone was brusque, but you would have lied if you had said you did not find satisfaction in the way his voice had a snapping plea buried in it.

but sukuna's cruelty was an undeniable part of him; every scar he bore and every command he uttered reminded you of the power he wielded and the danger that simmered just beneath his surface, one that could ravish nations and empire-states. anger, fear, attraction — they were tangled so tightly together you could scarcely tell them apart.

"am i meant to be flattered?"

sukuna chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that resonated through you. "so i am a monster, am i not?" he murmured, his tone almost teasing, yet a sharp intensity flared in his eyes. he leaned close, his face inches from yours, his voice a gravelly whisper. "a monster who could crush you, break you, make you kneel if i so desired…"

you swallowed, fighting the quickening of your breath, but held his gaze, your words biting. "then why don’t you?"

for a moment, he seemed almost stunned, his eyes searching your face. slowly, sukuna reached out, and with an uncharacteristic tenderness, the king of curses had tentatively placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your jaw, just as it had done all those weeks ago. "because," he murmured, "you’re the only one i’m compelled to protect."

your heart slammed in your chest, every part of you at war, caught between terror and something far more dangerous, a yearning that he, and only he, seemed able to awaken. he drew you closer, his lips brushing over your temple, voice barely a whisper, rough and unguarded.

"don’t you see?” he continued, his tone softer, aching, and you wondered if the king of curses would ever deign to beg. "it’s you i crave, you who won’t bow so easily. and i…” he exhaled, as though he had to fight against his very being to snap out the words, "find myself undone."

the intensity in his gaze was pulling you in, daring you to come closer, to test the fire you’d spent so long resisting, the fire that you had long been ghosting your fingers over, letting it lick your fingers. you could feel your pulse thrumming as sukuna drew nearer, his towering form casting a shadow that made you feel both caged and protected.

"you do realise," he murmured, voice a deep rumble, "that i’ve thought of this — of you — every night."

your breath hitched as his words sank in, and you attempted a weak laugh, faint in the air, "your enemies would kill to see you so undone."

one of his hands brushed up your back, pulling you closer, aligning your body with his in a way that left no space between you. with another arm, he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, his red eyes dark, "i would kill my enemies if they ever laid their eyes on you, in a way that i did not decree."

sukuna's breath was warm against your lips as he leaned down, inch by torturous inch, his mouth hovering just above yours, and you could see the light refract from his pearly fangs, "you have no idea the restraint it’s taken to hold back from this."

and his lips brushed against yours, just a whisper of contact, but enough to ignite something within you. and then, as if some unspoken barrier shattered, his mouth claimed yours in a kiss that was searing and fierce, pouring all his pent-up longing into that single moment. he moved with raw intensity, his mouth firm, demanding, yet achingly tender as he explored every inch of your lips, making you gasp with the force of it, stoking a heat lower within you.

you felt his two remaining arms circle you, anchoring you securely against his chest as he deepened the kiss, pressing you firmly to him. his fingers splayed across your back, drawing you impossibly closer, and you realised with a shiver that you liked the way he held you — possessive, unrelenting, as if he’d never let go.

and so, though you'd never admit it, you melted into him, your hands reaching up to grasp his shoulders, feeling the hard muscle beneath his robes. his lips moved with a rhythm that left you breathless, his kiss filled with a heat that left you weak, pliant in his arms. he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and half-lidded, a soft, dangerous smile curving his mouth.

"you’re mine," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and filled with an almost reverent awe. and this time, you leaned up to catch his mouth, enjoying that for the first time in written history, the king of curses had purred.

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen #works

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auspicioustidings · 4 months ago

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Kinktober Day 3

Moniker: Keegan Risk Level: Low. Keegan has never been detained and is visiting freely. Brief: Spanking ass, thighs and pussy Safeword: Refer to first brief. Keegan likes handling brats, if you’re nice for him he won’t have much reason to discipline you - Price

“Maybe if you weren’t such a prick you would be able to find a willing partner and not have to use someone who’s being paid for it!”

You had intended to be the sweetest person on the planet when you walked in given Price’s note, but Keegan was the most infuriating man you had ever had the displeasure of meeting.

He had immediately started making comments about the incompetence of the UK military, had wound you right up about how you weren’t a front line soldier, how you were a radio bitch. You fell right into the trap of it obviously.

“Hm. Name calling and yelling? Weren’t those two things I told you I wouldn’t put up with when you walked in here?”

Shit. God damn it. He had indeed went through his rules when you had come in, had said as long as you followed them then there would be no need for discipline.

“Can’t see someone who works in comms to have forgotten so quickly, so I think you want me to spank your ass don’t you?”

“Oh fuck you!” you hissed back.

“Not yet brat, can’t be handing out treats to bad little kittens or they’ll only get worse.”

You glowered at him from your side of the table. The room today was set up like a moody office, no bed in sight, just a big mahogany table with him sat on one side and you on the other. He stood and stalked around behind you, putting a warm hand on your shoulder.

“Now, let’s go ahead and adjust that nasty attitude of yours. Up.”

You should have just stood, you really should have. But he was so fucking smug that you stayed sat right where you were.

“Make me.”

You heard a little chuckle of delight before he hauled your ass out of the chair by your arm and threw you forward so that your chest crashed into the table so fast that you didn’t have enough time to brace and avoid your head bouncing off of it too.

“Wanker!” you hissed through your teeth, your nose in pain but thankfully not broken.

The first smack was over two layers of fabric, your jeans and your panties, but even so it fucking stung and you yelped.

“Such a feisty thing aren’t you?” he cooed as he pushed down against your back with one hand to pin you, got a leg wedged up between yours to have you spread wide enough to not have a good position to fight back against him and used his other hand to start ripping your jeans and panties down.

You tried to twist your body and lash out at him and he smacked your now bare ass so hard that you saw stars. He used the opportunity to wrestle your hands behind your back and pin them there with one of his.

“You’re only hurting yourself kitten, put your claws away and be good and maybe after your punishment I can pet you and make you purr.”

You hated him so much. Even more so when he got your jeans and panties pushed down to your just above your knees and left them there, the position humiliating in a way that had your face flaming with heat.

“Ready? Remember you brought this upon yourself.”

The few spanks to your ass had stung, but it was bearable. Your body found them exciting even if your brain was screaming how much it hated him, but you thought that it was sort of like you were getting your own back if you were actually enjoying his stupid punishment.

“Sure, go ahead with your punishment” you said, sounding more a brat than you had ever been in your life.

You hadn’t expected it and he certainly hadn’t given you any warning that he wasn’t aiming for your ass with this one. The flat of his hand came down hard and fast on your cunt and your screamed bloody murder. He hadn’t come down right on your clit, but it was throbbing from the abuse none the less.

The next few swots were much the same and you realised just seconds before he wound back for the next one what he had been doing. He knew all of this was making your clit start to swell, that your body was getting mixed signals so was getting wet to cover all eventualities and sending all the blood between your legs. And when your clit was a nice, shiny, swollen target for him that’s when he changed angle and brought his next slap right down on it.

You fucking howled and he gave an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.

“Now kitten, take your punishment like a good girl instead of like a little bitch would you? The more you bitch the more I’m going to have to give you to settle you down, but then maybe that’s why you’re being this way huh? That pretty pussy so eager for my hand?”

God you throbbed. It was like a red hot pulse between your legs and you were rapidly deflating of all of your confidence to go against him. Something about how fucking condescending he was began to have the opposite effect than usual - instead of it making you want to fight him and argue, it was sort of making you want to submit and please him enough that he was nice to you instead.

“C’mon kitty kitty, tell me what’s going on in that pretty head.”

“I’ll take it” you mumbled.

“What’s that? Speak up kitty.”

“I’ll take the punishment like a good girl.”

Fuck this was so humiliating.

“I’ll take the punishment like a good girl what?”

He truly was the worst. You considered telling him to get fully fucked, but he saw that you needed a little coaxing and rubbed his hand on your sore cunt. It was both the promise of something delicious and the warning of something painful.

“I’ll take the punishment like a good girl, sir” you said, squeezing your eyes shut and wanting to sink into the void with the embarrassment of knowing that not only were you being punished for being a mouthy brat, but that Price was watching it all on cameras.

“Better. These ones you’ll count.”

He landed a smack on your ass and despite it burning, it was a relief from the ones levelled against your cunt.

“One, sir.”

“Manners kitten. Say thank you.”

“…thank you sir.”

“Thank you for what?”

“Thank you for punishing me sir.”

“Hm, not sure it is a punishment” he said, smug as anything when he swiped two fingers through your slit and then made you suck you arousal off of them. “But it will be.”

He really started giving it to you. Smack after smack, aimed to sting the most and continually changing so you never knew what to expect so couldn’t brace. Your body was jerking violently with every hard crack to your ass and thighs and by the time you reached 20 you were sobbing the numbers at him incoherently, crying out your thank yous.

“Shh kitty, you did so well. Do you think you need more?”

“N-no sir, please I’ll be good. I’m a good kitten. Your good kitten. U-unless you think I need more, I don’t mean to be a brat and say I don’t if I do” you whimpered.

It was so strange how he had you floating, had you fully pliant and desperate to please him and earn praise. Hadn’t you hated his guts not half an hour ago?

“Well Price, you think one more then I can pet her?” Keegan asked to the room.

There were two beeps in answer and you could sob from the relief. One beep was a warning, two must be an affirmative. Just one more. Your pussy was sopping wet and everything was on fire, but just one more.

He hauled your onto your back and without any preamble wound his hand back behind his head and brought it down brutally hard on your cunt. Maybe you screamed, you weren’t entirely sure, the next thing you knew you were in Keegan’s lap and he was petting your pussy.

“There she is. You never thanked me for the last one kitten, but I’m feeling indulgent so going to let you purr for me anyway.”

You did. Some approximation of a purr rattled out of you as he kept petting his pussy. Later he smothered you with cream that he said would help with the bruising, but you were pretty sure it was going to hurt anytime you sat down for the foreseeable future.

Well then. Price had certainly learned something about you today. He really had to start being vigilant instead of furiously wanking off during these sessions.

#mhairiwrites #mhairi'skinktober

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prettyoatmeal · 2 years ago

Note

Please please pretty please 🥹 can you please write While You’re Dating with Soap🥹 I’m dying reading those and can’t wait to read one with my boy Soap😭🥺♥️

John 'Soap' MacTavish Headcanons While You're Dating & How You Got There

I will so gladly. Thats all I need to say.

I love this man more than I love life itself.

Masterlist here!

***************

How You Got There

You two would be like bread and butter, or two peas in a pod, perhaps.

There'd be a well established friendship and maybe even a situationship, though you wouldn't be able to tell due to his playful and flirtatious personality.

Whether you're civilian or a 141 member, he'll always try to be with you regardless of what you're doing at the time.

He'd notice this about himself, how he always wants to be around you but he'd never think too much of it.

If you're part of the Task Force, you bet your sweet ass he'd be staring at you non-stop. No matter what you did, his eyes would be on you.

He wouldn't care much for being professional around you since you two were a couple of jokesters together anyway so the constant flirting was just a given.

He'd soon realise 'Oh shit, I actually kind of like them.'

His stomach would fill with butterflies every time you laughed at one of his jokes. It would cause his confident attitude to fall a little and make him a little bashful.

Despite his naturally flirty demeanour, he'd be pretty nervous to ask you out once he realised he had developed feelings. He wouldn't want to lose what he had with you prior as he would consider you as one of his best friends.

Simon was someone he knew he could always go to, but you were different. You matched his emotional nature which Simon normally kept hidden from others. He appreciated that about you.

You would always be together, everyone had assumed you two were dating already dating so when you'd say that you were just friends they'd be very skeptical.

It was so extremely obvious that you liked him and he liked you, but you were so scared of making things awkward between you two that neither of you had said anything.

Didn't really have his mind set on getting a partner before you, so when he fell, he fell HARD.

He would go to Simon many, many times just asking him for advice. His advice would always be 'Ask them out' but really, Johnny just wanted to be there to gush about you.

"I just think they're really pretty and I like how they smell and I want to be with them and make them feel safe and and and-"

And it would always end in him sobbing to Simon because he likes you so much and Simon would just stand there like

-_-

Because this has happened so many times now.

At that point, Simon himself would go up to you like

"Johnny's into you."

I feel like he'd ask you out in a silly way and pop it really unexpectedly. Like half-joke-ish but only half-joke-ish because he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable.

"Hey, Johnny, I didn't know what to get you so I got that takeaway you really like."

"No way! Kiss me right now."

"Bet."

"What-"

Insert makeout session.

Not even an official way to ask you, he's just silly like that.

No but genuinely, he probably would pull something like that so he could play it off as a joke or something if you found yourself uncomfortable.

Lucky for him, he didn't need to do that.

When It's Official

When you do make it official, Johnny would be the biggest sweetheart.

I feel like the honeymoon phase with him would never end as he'd always be so big on communication and talking things out that conflict and issues are sorted out before they've even begun.

Also because like

It's Johnny, no moment with him could ever be dull.

Early in the relationship there wouldn't be any awkwardness like there'd maybe be with other 141 members. Like I said, there'd be the pre-established friendship where you two were always together anyways.

John would be his same enthusiastic self.

Wouldn't 'take it slow' per se, but wouldn't rush into anything you'd ultimately be uncomfortable with.

The touchiness would become hugging, the hugging would become cuddling, the cuddling would become coddling.

Maybe not coddling, but he'd still be very protective of you. Can't have anything happening to his precious lover.

Would definitely buy you gifts and presents out of the blue.

"Dove, c'mere, look what I gots ya!"

And it would be the most beautiful pendant you've ever seen in your life.

"Johnny! How much did this cost you?"

"Oh, it was nothing, Darl! Let us put it on ya, hmm? Turn around."

One to spoil you, for sure, despite how many times you tell him to save his money instead.

"Nonsense!" he'd tell you.

Biggest pet names for him would be along the lines of Dove, Hen, Darling, Lass or Lad.

Big confident man so he loves showing you off to all your team mates.

Yeah, he scored YOU, the most gorgeous being in the world. How could he not show the world.

Not against PDA at all, he will so gladly hold your hand or wrap an arm around your waist, letting everyone know you're off limits.

In public, he's very confident, but in private, he's a very emotional man.

Can't keep his hands off you, has to be touching you 24/7. Like a clingy dog. This makes him become very interested in everything you're doing, whether it be the least important or the most important thing in the world.

"Hey, Love, whatcha doin'? Can I join? Lemme just pop a squat right 'ere next to ya."

"Johnny, look here. It's called Sudoku, so you see-"

He's very restless when you're not with him or out with friends. He knows you can protect yourself but still, he worries a little.

Can become very whiney when you're occupied for too long without giving him attention.

"Mmggggg..."

"I know, Johnny, I'll come kiss you in a second."

He loves loves loves loves loves being babied.

Will do anything and everything to have you pull his face into your chest and cradle his head like that, running your fingers through his mohawk (it's surprisingly really soft).

Very big on using you as a pillow. Whether it be your chest, boobs, tummy, thighs, shoulder, ass, he will find a way to lean his head on you no matter what you're doing together. Especially on movie nights.

Like a big dog, thats what he reminds me of. Doesn't realise he's so big and sometimes a big heavy on you. But thats okay because he'd be like a weighted blanket in a way.

He 100% snores like

honk shoo honk shoo honk shoo honk shoo

At least you know your boy is sleeping soundly and finally getting the comfort he deserves.

***************

Part two? Who knows. Goodnight <3

*************** DISCLAIMER Under no circumstances do I give permission to copy, repost, or manipulate my work in any way. I am not comfortable with this. If you wish to translate my work, message me privately. My inbox is always open.

#call of duty #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #John mactavish x reader

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luverofralts · 2 months ago

Text

Arkhelios Adventures

"Master Maricourt. You're late."

Ewan Maricourt straightened his spine and attempted to remain professional. He had been busy preparing for the Pleasantview Academy of Magic's fall term when a surprise visit from the queen had been announced, and all hell had broken loose. Student records and teacher paysheets were crumpled on the floor of his office as Ewan scrambled to find formalware appropriate for the queen.

"I apologize, Your Majesty," he said with a graceful bow. "Preparations are underway for the new school year and there is much to do. Any visit from you, though, is a gift to your humble servants."

"Wow, Dad's really off his game to be kissing the ring this much, even before school starts," Remy worried. "What does the queen want? To borrow Theo for even longer?"

"I hope not," Adam muttered. "I haven't seen him all summer. Between Mom and Her Majesty, there hasn't been a second of time to even see him in person."

"So just break into his dreams like you did last time," Remy suggested, causing Adam's scowl to deepen.

"No, I think that was a one-time kind of thing. Besides, he's not in some magically protected place this time. He's practically down the street at the palace! It's so stupid."

Remy scoffed, unwilling to listen to Adam drone on about his inconvenient, star-crossed love. Soon enough, he'd be jamming his tongue in Theo's mouth and the whole school would have to watch the two of them talk about their many annoying plans for the future.

"Well, absence makes the heart grow fonder," she sighed. "God help us if that's true."

"Master Maricourt. It's good to see you."

Miruna met her fiancée and smiled at her father. It had been too long since she had been to see him. Despite working with little magic users at the Princess Zarah Academy, she didn't have a lot of time to spend with the rest of the Pleasantview coven.

"Your Highness."

Ewan bowed to his daughter, trying to remain professional for the sake of the queen. There was a seriousness about her that he couldn't read. Between her worrying attitude and setting up class schedules, Ewan was about to collapse from stress.

"Let's talk inside," Claudia suggested, as if Ewan had a choice in the matter. "There's coven matters that must be discussed before the start of school."

Princess Victoriana rushed to the door to greet her mother, followed closely by her Uncle Travis. Victoriana was supposed to be on the school grounds helping prepare the school for the new term, but Travis was a surprise.

"Travis! What a pleasant surprise! Mom and Dad let you stay at the school early? That doesn't sound like them."

Claudia hugged her little brother, genuinely surprised but glad to see him. Maybe their parents were off at work. There had to be some reason her overprotective parents let their youngest child out of their sight when school was right around the corner and they would only see him on weekends.

"They're busy with work," Travis confirmed. "There's some portal open somewhere, and some reapers are missing or something. They didn't really explain, but it means that I get to help sort the books in the school library today instead of enduring an afternoon of family board games."

Claudia groaned with sympathy, knowing exactly how tedious family board games were with their parents. They didn't even have any of the good games, just cooperative games where everyone either won or lost together. Every time someone insinuated that her father might be as evil as his biological father, Claudia just imagined family board game night, and the idea seemed impossible.

"Lucky you," she laughed. "Well, I won't keep you. I'm sure you have a stack of books calling your name. Don't forget to call Ollie and me from time to time this term. We may not all live in the same house anymore, but I do miss spending time with my little brothers."

Remy lurked outside the hall where the queen and Remy's father had disappeared into the coven meeting chamber. There was something ominous in the air that she couldn't quite place, and it was driving her crazy.

She had been at the Siew cottage when the queen of Twikkii Island was attacked and had seen violence first hand. Within the past year, she'd witnessed dead bodies strewn in a royal cottage and had watched her father frantically try to keep her twin brother from dying in his arms in the room down the hall. It had been a dangerous year so far, and Remy couldn't seem to shake the sense that more danger followed the queen today. A meeting this unexpected had to be something big.

"How can I help, Your Majesty?" Ewan asked cautiously, taking a seat next to the queen. "Is everything well? I can call the rest of the coven if you wish."

Claudia shook her head, and some tension left Ewan's shoulders. A private meeting without the coven meant that any threat she was here to discuss would be minor.

"No, this involves your role as head of this academy," Claudia explained. "There has been a request to accept a new student this term. That place we agreed to send Theo to study? Well, it seems like they would like us to return the favour."

"An exchange student? I thought that realm was sealed outside of emergencies like Theo's meltdown. The amount of documents I needed to sign just to get his foot in the door was astronomical. What's the catch here?"

"No obvious catch, though I'm sure there is one. There always is. On paper, it's just a request to send a sixteen year old boy for the school year, living in the dorm with a meal plan. Unofficially? I have no idea. I know very little about Jubilant Accosts outside of what the onboarding team told us regarding Theo. They're strict and...religious, that's all I know."

"They descend from a medieval society just as Pleasantview evolved from Old Tredony," Ewan supplied. "The forms I had to sign for Theo were written in the Old Tredony language. I guess they thought we still spoke it for some reason. I had to get a coven elder to even understand what language I was looking at. But as long as they send me a list of whatever is needed, I can add this boy to the register today."

Claudia nodded. Her hands folded in her lap, signaling that she had more to say but was waiting for his full attention.

"I want to have eyes on this boy day and night," she said at last. "I will have one of my royal guards posted at the school to supervise him. Ewan, I need you to protect this school and its students and never let this boy out of your sight. It...it makes me uneasy to accept this student, but it's the best way to know what this strange land may want from us. Why are they reaching out now and why this boy? We sent them Theo when he was a danger to himself and others. Perhaps this boy is in the same situation."

Ewan frowned.

"But it was our demons and our council that even nominated Jubilant Accosts for Theo in the first place. The demonic sovereign enthusiastically supported the idea. It's a place as ancient as Pleasantview and-"

"And just as dangerous," Claudia interrupted irritably. "There are sections of Pleasantview darker than one could ever imagine, and I trust that this place is no different. Maybe they want to develop a relationship between our nations or maybe they're interested in something darker. After the attacks on Maura, I can't take that chance. Every sense in my body is screaming that this is dangerous, but I can't risk a bad relationship with an unknown power. I need you to protect this school and watch this boy."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Ewan replied. He understood the dilemma the queen was in and how dangerous the road may be before them, but this was just another important thing to cram into his already packed schedule. It looked like he'd be sleeping in his office again. "What is the boy's name? Does he have parents or siblings to call ahead of time with the supply list for the semester?"

"His name is Sebastian Wall," Claudia replied. "No parents, no siblings, no home address. All I've received is a name and an age and that he can perform defensive and battle magic with ease. He'd like to study our history and learn healing magic from what I've been told, and I'm more than happy to authorize that. If he wanted access to our battle magic, that would be out of the question."

"Of course. I'll hide some of our more dangerous tomes in the restricted area, just to be safe."

Remy wasn't sure if she felt better having eavesdropped or not. True, the queen wasn't worried about an offensive strike any time soon, but the possibility still lingered. What did this strange nation want, and why only send one teenager? Was it just because Pleasantview had sent one teenager to them? Was he a spy? Was he going to attack Pleasantview like Twikkii Island had been?

Still, a teenage boy was no challenge to Remy. She had every boy in Pleasantview eating out of her hand (aside from her twin, of course), winning this Sebastian over would be easy. She would do her patriotic duty and keep an eye on this newcomer for Her Majesty. There was no way Remy could handle being at ground zero of another attack. This Sebastian was going to fail at whatever he had come here to do.

"Do you ever think that we'll have our portraits hung up at school someday?" Travis asked a very bored looking Victoriana. He'd run into her on his way to the library and he usually didn't mind talking to his niece. She was well educated and reasonable, unlike most of the teenagers who attended his school.

"Well, I definitely will when I inherit the throne one day," Victoriana replied, as if this should be obvious. Clearly, Travis thought of her as a princess and not as a future queen. "I'm sure you will someday too. With your genes, you'll probably be running this place when you're done school."

Travis laughed at the thought.

"No thanks, I'd rather continue my studies over teaching. Have you seen how much stress Master Maricourt is under just getting ready for the year? I'll pass."

"Elowen! Elowen, I need to talk to you! Dad and the queen had a secret meeting that I need to tell you about!"

Remy flagged down her sister frantically, casting a spell for privacy between the two of them as she ran. Elowen curiously stepped into the resulting magic circle, baffled at her sister's urgency.

"Why were you listening to Dad's meeting with the queen?" she asked even though she knew the answer. Remy had to know everything, even if it was a private matter between her father and the monarch of her country. "Wait, is this a curse or something? Am I going to get in trouble for knowing this information?"

Remy waved away her sister's concerns and leaned closer to whisper her message. Elowen almost pulled away out of self-preservation, but then decided that if Remy was going to recklessly put herself in potential danger, Elowen should know what to tell Remy's father when it inevitably blew up in her face.

"There's going to be a student from wherever they sent Theo," Remy whispered, despite the privacy spell she'd cast. "The queen is worried that he's somehow broken like Theo was or some kind of spy. You have to help me watch him when he comes. It's our duty to the queen."

"Wouldn't our duty to the queen be to stay out of her conversations?" Elowen asked warily. "She knows better than we do when it comes to this situation. I'm sure she has a plan."

"But we could stop another attack!" Remy hissed.

"You don't know if this student is going to be dangerous!" Elowen insisted. "How would he have anything to do with what happened in Twikkii Island? He's coming to study here."

"Fine. If you're not going to help me, just keep an eye on him. I'll do the rest."

"Adam! I'm surprised you're not hounding me about Theo. He's lived down the hall from me all summer, and he says that you've barely been talking to him. He does have a cell phone, you know. His dads call him every day since my mom basically kidnapped him."

Victoriana smiled at Adam, only earning a weak smile in return.

"He's sworn an oath to Pleasantview by studying here. Your mother has the right to keep him for extended personal studies. I...I just don't want to interrupt him. He's got to be pretty busy. Plus, I'll see him at school in a while anyway. I've been busy in Crystal Cove learning how to double the size of the crystals I grow. I'll have a new one to give him by the time school starts."

"I guess. Well, text him that," Victoriana replied, looking at Adam strangely. "Not everything has to be a surprise, you know. Don't tell him I told you this, but he's been worried about you. You don't seem...excited to see him again, which has to be impossible. You two are crazy about each other. You broke into his dreams to talk to him again."

Adam smiled another weary smile that didn't seem genuine, raising the princess' suspicions.

"A lot has happened since we've seen each other really," he said cautiously. "He's been gone for so long and I've changed so much since then. I'm sure he has too, especially with all that he's learned. It's okay when we talk on the phone or text, but seeing him again in person? Holding hands again and kissing and...what if we've changed? He says that he's fixed, but what if something happens again? And my parents won't let us be roommates again, obviously, but what if he's on a different floor entirely and we never see each other outside of class? It's all just too much to think about."

Victoriana hugged her friend fiercely, hoping to dislodge his many fears about his relationship. Theo had been right, Adam was spiralling with anxiety about the future when he didn't have to face the future alone.

"Hey. Just talk to Theo, and you'll be fine," Victoriana promised, releasing him from her grip. "You can't be in a relationship by yourself. It's weird for Theo too, you know. Talk to him."

Adam nodded, but his expression was still conflicted.

"Yeah, thanks, Your Highness. I'll do that."

#sims 2 #sims 2 pictures #arkhelios adventures #adam darktide #Victoriana Goldman #remy maricourt #elowen traver #travis maricourt #claudia goldman #miruna maricourt #ewan g maricourt

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luminouslywriting · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter 7 (Mastermind)—MOTA Fic

A/N: This one is admittedly a little fun and Ruth might be channeling her inner Sobel because she's so annoyed, but who can blame her haha? As always, let me know what you think!

A night out with the British Red Cross girls and the Red Cross girls from Thorpe Abbotts didn’t necessarily strike Ruth as something she would do for fun. Especially considering that the next day would come all too early and the men would be flying a mission and Ruth would be eagerly awaiting any updates regarding their mission—given the advice she had given Harding earlier that same day.

Submarine pans in Norway were the up and coming target. Given the fact that her brother was in the Navy and the U-Boats continued to bomb and derail a lot of the Navy’s hard work, Ruth found particular satisfaction in this particular mission.

Anything that could help one of her brothers was a win in her standards. And considering that they desperately needed to gain some headway in reaching Germany, taking out the U-Boats would allow for the US Navy and Allied Forces to make their way to the beaches, if successful. And if they could take the beaches, then they could take the rest of the damn country too.

Still, Ruth tried to focus on the task at hand. Her lipstick gently pressed against her lips until the Victory Red was in its proper place and then she turned, finding Helen and Tatty waiting for her. “You didn’t have to wait for me. Work ran late.”

“Yes we did!” Helen exclaimed, bounding over to her and linking arms with Ruth. They had even convinced the normally practical woman (who normally wore pantsuits) to put a dress on. Anything to make it feel like a war wasn’t on and they weren’t in Europe for some sort of horrific relief effort.

“She’s right, you know,” Tatty said pointedly as Helen brought Ruth over to her.

“But I’m not a nice socializer,” Ruth whined, ever so slightly.

Tatty just pinched one of her cheeks. “I think you can do it. It’s just for one night and there won’t even be other men around! They’ll be down the street at a different pub! This one’s just for us Red Cross gals.”

“Which I’m not.”

“Yeah but no one else is going to know that!” Helen said.

Ruth had never been much of a party-goer. She had attended several parties back during Law School. But she had always found herself sitting outside or talking to one or two select people in order to gain a semblance of control. In large settings, it was easy for her to sink into the shadows and just watch people. People tended to make a fool of themselves when they thought no one was watching.

And truth be told, she’d rather save her selective social attitudes for someone who could keep up with her mind and wit. And thus far, she hadn’t really met anyone that could do that.

The car ride into town was full of chatter. Evidently, both Tatty and Helen had made some friends with some of the RAF Red Cross girls, a pair of twins by the names of Lana and Florence. They seemed to be the most agreeable, from what Tatty and Helen had been saying about them.

Ruth tried to keep an open mind, she really did. It was a man’s world, even for a woman trying to make friends with other women. And considering that she had bitten and clawed her way to this position and turned down several friendships and relationships, Ruth wasn’t about to get caught off guard by anyone.

She wasn’t even sure it was possible for someone to catch her off guard at this point.

This pub was much more relaxed, with a mostly female clientele and workers. A few card games went on in different corners, but mostly it was just women talking and sharing things with one another. It was almost strange, the stark difference between this pub and the one that the officers usually attended.

The entire atmosphere was lighter and more relaxed. Ruth found herself sinking into a chair and sipping on a gin as Helen and Tatty introduced her to Florence and Lana, both of whom were nurses in the RAF. Ruth extended a hand and both women shook it, warm grins spreading across their faces.

“You didn’t come out last time and Helen had a ball telling us all about you,” Lana exclaimed, dirty blonde curls bobbing up and down as her energy contagiously spread across the table.

“All true things, I hope?” Ruth questioned, glancing over at Helen and Tatty.

“Well,” Florence said, leaning into her hand with a grin. Her rosy cheeks glistened under the dim light, accented by her freckles and strawberry blonde locks of hair. “They told us that you’re a JAG-Corp lawyer, went to school in Brooklyn—which I suppose is in New York—and that you’ve already made quite a splash with getting the men up to regulation.”

“I certainly try my best. Were you two nurses before the war?” Ruth asked, glancing between the two sisters.

“Oh goodness no!” Lana said, shaking her head. “I was a model and Flora here did botany with a few biologists!”

“That sounds fascinating!” Ruth exclaimed. “I did a bit of modeling back in High School. And personally, I preferred earth sciences, but biology is fascinating as well!”

“I knew you’d get along with them,” Tatty said smugly. “They’re interesting!”

“Who did you model for?” Helen questioned, tugging on Ruth’s arm to catch her attention.

“It was just a few shoots for a winter collection,” Ruth said, a slight blush rising on her cheeks.

“With who?” All four women questioned at the same time.

“Vogue.”

The eruptions across the table nearly left Ruth speechless as they all descended upon her with their questions. By the time that they were done with the questions about modeling, Helen had completely turned the tide of the conversation.

“You’re telling me no one ever thought to snatch you up, Miss Vogue?” Helen asked, a doubtful expression on her face.

“Well I broke things off with my fianceé back during Law School—” Ruth admitted, hiccuping slightly as she took another drink of gin.

“You were engaged?” Tatty asked, wide-eyed at her. Truthfully, Tatty didn’t view Ruth as the marriage type.

“Briefly. And it just wasn’t going to work out between us. He wanted his wife to stay home and have babies and I—well I want to make a difference in the world and I can’t do that personally from a kitchen,” Ruth exclaimed. “And then there was Winters, and��damn, he was so nice even when I was breaking up with him.”

“Who?” Lana questioned, tapping on her arm.

“He’s the reason I asked for a transfer. I just know he was thinking about asking me to marry him and I’m not the type to settle down for any man!” Ruth explained. “Now your turn.”

Florence just snorted, shaking her head. “Lana’s run away from the altar no less than four times. Our father won’t pay for another wedding.”

“Well I just get nervous, that’s all!” Lana exclaimed. “You’ve never even had a boyfriend!”

Her sister flicked her in the arm in response. “Tone, Lana.”

Ruth grinned. “You two remind me of my sisters, except I like you two more.”

“Flattery!” Lana exclaimed. “I knew you really did like us!”

“At this point, you’re going to run off with the RAF Red Cross rather than us,” Helen said, shaking her head at Ruth.

“I would never. I love America far too much for that. Besides, you two are my friends and I don’t say that lightly,” Ruth reassured them warmly.

It was another two or three drinks before Helen and Tatty were ready to go. Given the fact that Ruth had kept herself (mostly) sober, she led the way back towards base. They would be walking, given the fact that the car had just dropped them off at the pub and she hadn’t yet memorized the number to call someone for a ride.

She just hadn’t needed to know the number beforehand, after all.

Getting Tatty and Helen back to base was a bit like herding cats, she decided. Much larger and more prone to disaster cats, that is. But she was a determined woman and she paired the stern demeanor with a gentle grasp on both of their arms as she tugged them along.

And this is why her brothers always had her come and pick them up when they were drunk.

Walking down the street with her two friends, Ruth could hear some cheering going on up above. She wasn’t sure she altogether wanted to know what the men got up to when she wasn’t around and couldn’t be policing them for infractions. Unfortunately for both herself and all of these men, her path back to base lay through this street, so there was no getting around whatever the hell it was that they were doing.

Almost immediately upon turning the corner, Ruth regretted all of her life decisions that had led up to this point. They had no sooner turned the corner that her eyes laid hold of one of the men of the Hundredth in a fist fight with an RAF-Pilot.

“Oh shit,” Tatty mumbled, eyes going wide at the sight.

“Ruthie, no—” Helen murmured, clinging to her arm.

But Ruth would not be deterred. She stepped forward as Biddick’s fist collided with the RAF Pilot, immediately giving a loud and sharp whistle—the very same whistle she would use to hail taxis in New York.

Almost immediately, every man standing there knew that they had colossally screwed up in some way. Bucky Egan just sat in the middle of it all, shoulders tense and a curse spilling from his lips. “Damnit boys, I knew we shoulda kept it down.”

“What the hell is going on here?” Ruth demanded, stepping forward. As she stepped, all of the men jumped backwards, separating from the other RAF-Pilots.

“Lieutenant—” Major Cleven started with a wince.

“Shut up and listen,” Ruth snapped, not even glancing in his direction. Her gaze swept across both groups of men, shaking her head at them. “I can’t even say I’m surprised by the turn of events. You’re lucky I don’t write all of you up for this,” Ruth said. “You’re supposed to be fighting the Nazis, not the damn Allied forces.”

“Ruth—” Bucky started.

“I said to shut up and listen!” Ruth’s tone shifted very quickly and he fell silent. There was the authoritative lieutenant in front of them all—the one who won court cases and left men shaking in their boots about the law. “Weekend passes are hereby revoked for the next two weeks for those of you in the American armed forces. I will be writing a report to the RAF as well about weekend passes. Now please, for the love of all that is good and holy, get your shit together and get to bed so you can fight Hitler!”

There was a slight grumbling and hesitance and Ruth’s cold gaze swept over the men, getting them moving and back towards their respective bases. With that taken care of, she shoved back towards Helen and Tatty, grabbed them by the arms and began the trek back towards the base with the men.

“Weekend passes? Seriously?” Bucky demanded, falling into line with her.

“You think I condone your playground fighting and taunts?” Ruth questioned, a withering gaze locking onto him.

“Well no, but—”

“Is this the part where you tell me that they started it?” Ruth questioned. “Because my teenage brother gives me the same excuse and I don’t put up with his shit. What makes you think I’ll put up with yours?”

“Damn, it is a good thing you’re on our side. Some of the time,” Bucky mumbled, shaking his head.

“Damn straight. Now get to bed. It’s for your own good. Aren’t you flying in the morning, Major?” Ruth asked pointedly.

“Yes, ma’am.” With that, Bucky turned down the other path towards the men’s barracks.

Ruth finally let a small smile cross her features. If she could not be loved, then she would be respected and feared—whatever the cost. “You’re gonna be a boy mom someday,” Helen said, poking at her cheek.

“God, I hope not.”

#mota #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfic #mastersoftheair #oc originalfemalecharacters #masters of the air #rosie rosenthal #robert rosenthal x reader #rosie rosenthal x oc #robert rosenthal x oc #robert rosenthal fanfiction

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itskeej · 11 months ago

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draw the vampire squad I need to see them noW

(fun fact I'm that one anon that asked for ur OC lore cuz I don't have toyhouse lmao I still don't)

well. there they are. some info that i do got about each under the cut:

Victor

The eldest physically, but the youngest vampire.

Ex-priest. He's perpetually pissed off at Luciano for turning him, as he can no longer step foot inside of a church without it hurting him gravely.

Very bitter about the fact his soul was (probably) saved yet he still exists like this. The entire vampire bit is a struggle for him, to put it mildly...

He has totally prayed before a meal of blood only to accidentally bless it, essentially poisoning himself. He has never done it again since.

He is also the reason Luciano has his cross-shaped scar on his forehead! The first time they met, Victor freaked out and smacked him in the forehead with it. It was night time, dark, and his glowing eyes scared the shit out of Victor. It was the first thing he thought of—

Often tries to avoid hunting until the last possible second, right before his hunger-induced bloodlust kicks in. He hates being a vampire that deeply, so he puts it off as much as he can.

Somehow, he's the strongest vampire of the bunch, much to Jacyn's dismay. It feels like Victor has wasted potential. While the others get moody and a little more violent when starved, Victor turns into a whole other man entirely. You'd think that'd be enough convincing for him to keep himself fed on time, but apparently not...

Jacyn

The eldest vampire. He's been around the longest. It shows in his skin with how sickly it appears. Luciano likes to bug him about it.

Definitely let himself get turned thinking immortality would solve some problems of his (it did not). What problems? I've yet to work that one out.

Very much wants power. He's sort of "asserted" himself as the head of their dysfunctional house, it sporting his last name. None of them really care, so it wasn't much of a fight.

Believes humans to be beneath immortal beings. Their mortality places them a step below someone like him. This was not the belief he held before wanting to turn, though.

Much more violent than the other three solely due to not being afraid of getting his hands dirty. He likes to play to his natural strengths, and blood-drinkers... well, they have inhuman levels of natural strength.

Luciano

Second youngest vampire.

As probably very evident by now, he's quite the pest. He's always poking his nose into other people's business or making playful (or what he believes to be playful, at least) jabs at the others. He's quite fond of Victor, while Victor... it's complicated. He hates him, but he feels like he needs to get used to him being around.

Vain... his appearance physically is one of the most important things to him. Dirty his clothes and he'll kill you. Maybe even literally, depending on the garment. Arguably his biggest downfall—he's cried to Hellena about a torn cloak before, to paint a better picture.

Very care-free attitude. He's often out mingling with the night-life of their town.

He views humans like fodder, often referring to them as such and treating them the same way a human would speak about animals.

Drank the blood of someone on drugs once... never again. Not because he'd mind doing it again, but because none of the house knew how to handle a high vampire.

Hellena

Second eldest vampire and second eldest physically.

The easiest tolerated by Victor. The two of them will sometimes sit and talk.

LITERALLY THE MOST SANE IN THIS GODFORSAKEN HOUSE. Between Victor's constant self-loathing, Jacyn's desire for violence, and Luciano... being Luciano, she's so incredibly normal about things.

Drinks her blood though fancy cups! Instead of feeding all at once, she spaces it out. She just prefers it that way, hehe.

She's not sure what she's going to do with her eternity... it's depressing to her, the time she has set out before her. So, quietly, she's trying to find a sense of purpose, a personal journey that's been going on for many, many years.

Sometimes she feels like she's parenting the rest of them. It's exhausting... but, admittedly, humerous. If anything else, she's content to make sure the other three don't somehow manage to kill themselves.

Despite her appearance, she's not that worried about things like ruining her clothes. Possessions and the like are easily replaced and fixed.

Smokes cigarettes. Her lungs don't suffer. She used to as a human and that habit carried over.

As you can see, Victor is definitely the most fleshed out so far LMAO, he's the first one I made and the first I've done rp with among friends, so I've got more knowledge about him. u_u

The others, I'll have more detailed info for in time! >:)

#keej answers #tumblr ask #anonymous #original characters #ocs #my oc #my ocs #vampire #vampire oc #dark prometheus #clip studio paint #my art #artists on tumblr

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14muffinz · 10 months ago

Text

improv with ease

inspired by @blackfire-fanfiction 's soul switching au

words: 1287

notes: I haven't written for this au (or TMNT at all really) in a long time haha

~~~

Raph is glaring at his brother’s shell. The effect is lost on the fact that Leo hasn’t turned around since he slinked up next to the alternate version of Donnie, but if none of his brothers are going to do it, someone certainly has to.

It figures that their two dimensions would have to intercept again some time. After all, with the Leonardo’s situation, at some point they would have tried to at the very least get in proper contact, because for some reason the Leonardos are insistent that they don’t just shut the whole switching thing down outright.

But it’s different this time, because this isn’t their universe, and the guy in Leo’s body isn’t their Leo. He’s the impostor, the turtle local to this dimension, and Raph is choosing to ignore the way he’s shuffling nervously beside him, because seriously, he could tell the truth to the alternate versions of them at any point. They’re doing this entirely to themselves.

Leo taps something on Other Donnie’s phone, and the purple-clad turtle swipes his phone away abruptly, glaring. Leo raises both brow muscles and quirks the corners of his lips up. Other Mikey turns around and rolls his eyes as though this is an every day sort of thing, and Raph tries and fails to relate this to the dynamic between Donnie and Leo.

“Raph,” Leo actually whines, completely throwing Raph off. It’s so childish and unlike the way Leo tends to present himself. Other Raph spins around, face crafted into something neutral as he walks backward. Other Mikey is not subtly leaning against him to keep him from tripping. “Donnie’s being territorial with his phone again.”

Other Raph sighs, spinning back around, and creating distance between he and Other Mikey with the use of his absurdly large tail. Like, seriously, he might be a bit smaller than Leatherhead, but he still has the guy’s proportions, and it's weird. Other Raph scolds, “Leo, stop trying to steal things from your twin.”

Leo huffs, and Other Donnie shoots a victorious smile over at Leo before going back to tapping at his phone. Leo waits a few beats for him to offer the phone back out, and then sighs and retreats to the back of the group, where Raph and his brothers are sticking together.

“So,” he says, and the shit has the gaul to smile right now. “It’s been a few months since we’ve seen you guys, hasn’t it? Has anything interesting happened since the last time we spoke?”

“Is this seriously necessary?” Donnie asks, sounding similarly confused and peeved with Leo’s current behaviour.

Leo elbows him. “C’mon, Other Dee, throw me a bone here. Dontron is obsessed with all this parallel universe crap, I need something to hang over his head for a little.”

“Mondo got the rest of his stuff out of his parents apartment,” Leon pipes up, not seeming even a little phased by Leo’s intentional rudeness. Then again, Leo seems to be pretending to be Leon, so that sort of checks out. “Other than that, it’s been a pretty calm week.”

“Gee, thank god someone was picking up what I was putting down,” Leo sighs, and while it starts off with that same cocky attitude, it trails off quickly into what seems to be genuine anger. “So, anyways, I didn’t finish clearing out April’s spare room for the week, so I could set you guys up in there. But after that I’m gonna turn in early, I haven’t gotten a good full sleep in a while.”

“You are terrible at subtlety,” Leon hisses angrily.

The attitude drops, and Raph is thrown off by how unreadable the tone is when Leo says, “I’ve been the top player in charades for years, haven’t I?”

“Maybe it’s time to stop playing,” Donnie says seriously.

Raph’s brain isn’t going fast enough for all of these metaphors, but unfortunately he’s not quite rude enough to call the Leonardos out on it. Their decisions, at the end of the day, are their stupid decisions.

“We’ll think about it,” Leo says. “But, y’know. Maybe I’ll wait ‘till it stops pissing my twin off so much when I stop. I’ve asked him if we could stop before, but he got all angry and uptight about it, because he wasn’t ready for things to change.”

And then he winks right at Raph.

Raph purposefully increases the energy behind his glare, but Leo only sighs before dashing forward towards their counterparts from what seems like a random burst of energy.

“Whoever wakes up first tomorrow,” Leon says quietly, with a similar unreadable tone to the one that Leo had just used. “We’ll deal with it, okay? And just like last time, it’ll probably be for a few days, so there’s plenty of chances for things to get a bit more normal.”

“Stop speaking in riddles,” Mikey requests. “This is making my brain hurt.”

“Okay,” Leon says, and then he loudly asks, “What time is it here, by the way?”

“Past dinner,” comes the near synchronous reply. Other Mikey spins around, skipping backwards while holding eye contact with Leon. He asks, “Have you guys eaten yet? I can probably whip up something if you haven’t already.”

“No, we’re fine,” Leon responds, suddenly all politeness, posture and cadence nearly a perfect match to Leo’s.

Raph can’t help but be even more bothered.

⠀

When they’re lead into the spare room they’ll be sharing for the next few days, Leon almost immediately flops onto the singular mattress in the room as though he belongs there, even though Raph tries and fails to make that a fact in his head.

It’s not Leo, yeah. But it’s still his body, and sometimes that distinction escapes him. Part of why the whole thing irritates him so much.

“Laying it on a little thick there, weren’t you?” Leon asks, and there’s the usual impostor in Leo’s body. The snark machine with little to no filter.

Leo shrugs, and with just the dropping of his smirk, suddenly he looks so much more tired. It doesn’t suit the body quite right, and Raph wishes that he could say the same about his brother in general. “Yeah, well, I needed to make a point, didn’t I? And Raph, I know you’re mad at me, you can stop glaring now.”

Raph does not stop.

Leo sighs, and sits down on one of the actual seats in the repurposed subway car. He doesn’t meet any of their eyes, instead picking at the wrappings on his leg, which Raph doesn’t think he’s seen his brother do ever while in his own body. “Can we try not to have any close calls this time around? I don’t want these guys to be mad at us, too.”

“We’re not mad at you,” Mikey says.

Raph opens his mouth to agree, then hesitates. He’s not mad, but he’s not sure what he actually feels about the whole thing, either. It’s hard to find the right word for it, even though it’s on the tip of his tongue.

“We should all head to bed,” Leon suggests. “I can help you go get the spare mattresses to speed things up. The longer we’re both asleep, the longer we’ll have for a switch to happen.”

“Oh, like that’s so easy,” Leo says, sarcasm dripping back into his tone, though it’s not followed by the usual smile of Leon’s. “But I’ll try.”

“Heck does that mean?” Raph asks.

He doesn’t get a response from either Leo. They both sit up, and take off out the door and into the same direction.

“I feel like they were trying to talk without us there, dudes,” Mikey states.

Raph crosses his arms. “I don’t care.”

#ficlet #rottmnt #TMNT 212 #TMNT crossover #soul switching #tmnt au #raph angst #TMNT leo #hamato leonardo #bad at tagging as always ✌#soul switching au

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canmom · 2 years ago

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Feel free to ignore considering it’s a very messy topic. Why do you think SFF communities (especially book communities) attracts so many bad faith actors?

my apologies anon, I took a minute to answer this one.

I think the most parsimonious answer is that they don't, especially, it's just that bad faith actors are basically everywhere. like, is it really true that there are more bad faith actors in SFF than in say, music? film? 'literary' fiction, or other genres like crime or erotica? i think if I was as immersed in any of those worlds as I am in SFF, I'd know about just as many stories of petty cruelty, exploitation, bizarre dramas...

still, some speculations about factors playing into it, that aren't necessarily specific to sci-fi.

the thing about SFF is that it's a subculture, and one that's pretty niche. not quite as niche as like, BASE jumping or something lol - most bookshops around here will have an SFF shelf, and obviously SFF films and games are almost as mainstream as entertainment gets - but for dedicated sci-fi fans it's seen as a sort of refuge of 'people like them' (generally some variety of autistic nerd archetype), and there is a lot of anxiety that comes with maintaining that.

this sort of attitude is commonly associated with the old guard of reactionary fandom - the infamous Puppies - but I think by now we've seen that the current overtly queer/progressive/whatever you wanna call it generation is just as capable of lashing out at perceived intruders. (for an obvious example, this kind of sentiment was a major factor in the Isabel Fall incident.)

besides that, what are people fighting for anyway? what are the 'stakes' of scifi/fantasy fandom? intuitively, they're tiny. but...

within any niche subculture, it is possible to achieve a certain degree of fame and influence. if you can play the rhetorical game, you can establish yourself as a microcelebrity/tastemaker, promote your friends and make a show of casting out the enemies, and set up the rules of the discourse... in your small bubble. until sooner or later the wind changes and you get knocked off the pedestal, anyway. so part of it is just people wanting to rule an insular little fiefdom.

but then there's also like... 'being an author'. SFF lit is not especially popular these days. you can't really make a living from short stories anymore (too few magazines that pay, too hard to get in, too little reward). however, if you get very, very lucky, make the right connections (probably at Clarion), you might just be able to get some novels published, and maaaybe they will find an audience and earn out their advances... and if everything goes perfectly, you might just manage to make a reasonable middle class sort of income.

and that's not nothing! especially if other forms of work are inaccessible. i have a friend whose circumstances were changed very dramatically when they got a big advance on their novel. but ultimately I don't think it's about that, nobody would sensibly try to become an author for the money, it's an obviously terrible gamble.

however, within the subculture, being a published author is a still big deal. it's a sense that you've 'made it', people will look up to you, or resent you if they don't feel you deserve it. there is a strong divide between 'authors' and 'fans' that structures interactions between the two. I don't get the impression that this is actually very fun for the authors, but it's easy to see that from outside and think "I wish I was worthy of that kind of respect too".

much the same applies in other fields - for example animation. maybe it pays shit and demand insane hours with zero job security... but for the fans, you come to have immense admiration for the 'real animators' and want to feel you could be their equal one day. and people are willing to sacrifice a lot for the sake of that idea of accomplishment, even if it's still very unlikely.

so with all that in mind... science fiction authors are usually science fiction fans. there's not really any other reason you'd write it lmao. so could speculate that for the ones who have 'made it', the situation is still precarious, or seems like it. there's little guarantee you'll get published again if a book doesn't sell. and you depend on a good reputation to stay in the game. so you have a bit of power (enough to go to your head) and fear of losing that power and sense of accomplishment... that's probably sufficient to motivate a whole lot of horrendous behaviour that would seem incomprehensible from outside.

none of this is really specific to science fiction/fantasy. but then I don't think SFF is really all that unique.

#sff

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themsource · 1 year ago

Text

Homeless in New York - HT!Sans/Reader

Another idea ramble! Well, basically plot spiel. This one is very long though. I really liked the part in Beyond Two Souls where Elle goes through the homeless experience with Stan and everyone, for how eye opening it was and...other reasons! ^^

Said in the new year I'd share more so I'm blowing dust off my idea folder and just putting them out there lol

...I have a lot ._.

Rating: M

You and Sans start out as rivals.

He’s mean, cruel, says the most awful stuff with even worse morbid puns that set your hairs raising whenever you encounter each other but you’re just as vicious right back. There’s an energy to your exchanges that always leaves one of you smiling in the end, a witty verbal game of cat and mouse where the roles are constantly flipped.

For some reason out of all the fellow homeless you’ve met Sans gets to you the most. Mainly because you both always end up competing when it comes to resources. It’s a constant battle but one that you end up finding security in with how often it happens in the bland monotony that is job hunting and scrounging.

He smirks as he gets the last bed for the night at the shelter, fine, you have your favorite vent in the far off ally behind the donut shop anyway but you beat him to the food kitchen and steal the last bowl of potato soup much to his annoyance. Sometimes it’s in reverse, sometimes you both end up winning and missing out, but those are rare and far between.

You’ve been homeless for a long time and know the streets and the people on them. Sans is someone who only popped up a year ago wearing his four coats and his bizarre choice of three layers of mixing shorts and pants, one of only three monsters in the big city as far as you know since the race came top side six years prior. You don’t know where he came from but this whole rivalry started because you’d had to step out of your place in line to help someone outside the food bank and Sans had stolen it.

When you came back and pointed it out he had only shrugged and said ‘sounds like a personal problem kid.’

Never had you encountered a fellow struggler who wasn’t kind and supportive. New York may have been renowned for its cold shoulders and careless attitudes but that didn’t apply in the homeless community, there was always sharing if it could be managed rather that was a spare bit of food or a warm trashcan fire. You’d even tried telling him that wasn’t how it works and tried to nicely explain but he’d rolled his single red eye and told you to ‘buzzoff’ instead of listening.

You vowed to never let him know peace after that.

This continues for months and during that time you find moments. Moments where there’s some sort of silent understanding. Catching him with a bummed cigarette and several crossed off job posts on the paper he’s holding, exchanging a frown for his shrug. Him watching as you are attempting to duct tape the sole back on your shoe and titling his skull with you gesturing accusingly at a careless nail abandoned on the curb that had caught you. Never speaking except for those bantering moments where you’re trying to one up and beat the other out.

There’s no kindness, no verbal sympathies.

Until one day when a new shelter opens up and there’s plenty of space, it’s the biggest most well equipped one yet with the softest beds that you’ve found in years, only to see them chasing Sans off, or trying to. He stands there unimpressed as the man who owns the place, a blading big hefty man in his 60s yells up at him both hateful and derogatory things.

‘Your kind is a nuisance! Nothing but nightmares! Just look at these innocent people, don’t they suffer enough without having to see your ugly mug!?’

No one is trying to step in, more likely afraid they’ll be kicked out for back talking. You can tell they’re uncomfortable though because they all exchange awkward glances. Obviously they feel the same as you. Sans deserves the help as well. In fact you recognize a guy in the crowd you’d seen hanging out with Sans once sharing a smoke and the look on his face practically shouts offended and angered.

‘Hey!’

The man sputters as you approach and Sans’ eye lazily pans over before widening, and his frown shrinks as you take a step between him and the old man. ‘He has a right to be here just like the rest of us!’

Sans glowers as he reaches for your shoulder, ‘i can handle this–’

But you shake him off and spin on him.

‘I know you can! You’re such an asshole I bet you could rip this guy's skull from his shoulders and not give a damn!’ His glower drops as he looks over at the guy (who visibly sweats at the look) and back to you before shrugging and you continue. ‘But he needs to learn we’re a community!’

You spin right back around and point at the guy, jabbing him in the chest.

‘We suffer day in and day out! We struggle to get by and sometimes the only kindness we get is from each other. People like you? Who think they’re doing us a favor by making us play damn lottery just to get a bed or some food, you’re the ugly ones! Because look at you! There’s still plenty of beds but you’re turning one of us down just because he’s a different race, knowing he’s struggling too! Talk about showing your damn colors. Not to mention this is obvious discrimination!’

The embarrassment and fear in the man’s face vanishes as he latches onto your last sentence, ignoring the rest of your rant and valid points like a complete jerk, turns smug and stern.

‘Discrimination laws don’t apply to monsters miss. And you’re right, we have the right to ‘play lottery’ as you call it because sometimes things get tight, and sometimes so we can provide for the people that deserve it! Kindness gives is what kindness gets and if you want to abuse a fellow human being over trash then you can get the hell out!’

There are a few that know you that look ready to intervene but you shout about how you ‘don’t need handouts from a jerk’ and that you ‘have a perfectly working vent in the park’, keeping those that would help from suffering another painful night needlessly. You spin around back to Sans who’s been silent watching this whole thing and he meets your eye with a half lidded look that you can’t help snapping at.

‘Shut up and come on! Benches are more comfy than those rock slabs he calls mattresses anyways!’ You stomp away and Sans follows you. The cold night air helps to tame your temper as you walk but not by much and it’s some time before Sans finally says anything.

‘you’re a dumbass.’

You're shivering and tuck your hands under your armpits. You’d forgotten it was supposed to be negative three tonight. Your response is a grumble. ‘You’re welcome.’

‘...here.’ He sheds one of his four jackets and dumps it unceremoniously over your head.

You gratefully latch onto it and roll yourself in the larger material like a walking burrito and when you get to the vent that night not only does Sans help setup right beside it with his own foil blanket to share with the mat you’ve provided but also silently tucks you into his chest.

It’s awkward at first but you’ve cuddled with complete strangers before in the New York climate and so willingly fall asleep in his arms.

From there you spend time getting to know each other for a few months. Working to make sure you both manage to grab food and a bed even if you have to share sometimes, which honestly you’re okay with because turns out Sans is surprisingly warm for a skeleton. You still mouth off to each other but now there’s questions, words not hostile in nature.

‘you good?’

‘The manager didn’t know what he was talking about, I bet the next interview will be the one!’

There’s a time where he spots you meticulously washing your fingerless gloves, making sure to pay extra attention to the rose embroidery so the color don’t wind up too faded.

‘those are pretty.’ It’s said off-handedly but you feel an appreciation for the comment nonetheless. They’re all you have left of the one who loved and raised you before they died and your life went to hell in a handbasket. You don’t tell him any of that but Sans can tell they’re important anyways.

The gratitude shows in your voice as you smile down at them. ‘Thanks.’

Then suddenly you feel awkward and remember the quarter you have in your pocket. You pull it out and toss it at him, marveling how easily he catches it without looking up from one of the free burgers he snatched from a care worker doing patrols.

‘what’s this for?’

‘A penny for your thoughts, a Quarter for your manners.’ You reply smugly.

He snorts, ‘that’s not a thing’, but pockets it anyways.

Sans actually manages to get a job for a bit, you both celebrate and rent out a double bedded hotel room for a night with a breakfast buffet, but quickly the dream is crushed when Sans gets let go for some high school student.

Then you manage to earn a good chunk of change from a side job an old friend offered you and you use the money to buy you and Sans better winter clothes (which he tries to argue with you over but you ignore him as usual and win the argument by stating it’s a necessity for survival).

All is good, for once being homeless seems not so bad, still sucks but not awful.

Reality reminds you good things don’t last as news hits that the city is passing new mandates to help curb the homeless problem by eliminating shelters and closing down food banks. Supposedly it’ll get people to ‘get off their asses’ or go ‘loiter elsewhere’ all in all people believe this will solve things.

Things get tense as fellow homeless start turning on each other over scraps and places to sleep, even you and Sans get weary with each other but start deciding to find abandoned houses and buildings to squat in for a few nights at a time. Somehow without even noticing you both have started doing practically everything together and have started sticking to the other like glue.

But never once did you ever have to sacrifice. You were both very sufficient at finding your own things and if there was extra offering it to the other. That’s why it feels as if the world shattered the night you finally feel the fallout of having not eaten in a while.

You’re both in a basement of an old school, sitting around a meek fire made of newspaper and woodchips but you can’t feel the meager warmth at all. In fact your lips have gone blue and your vision keeps doubling in and out.

Sans looks at you from across the flame with a frown as he’s rummaging in his pockets.

‘when did you eat last?’

It’s a struggle to think. ‘When I found us that half bag of sunflower seeds by Charlies.’

‘that was four days ago.’

‘Oh…’ A part of you cringes at the revelation and yells at yourself over your stupidity. ‘Lost track I guess.’

‘and here you’re supposed to be the more experienced out of us.’

You chuckle lamely before breaking into a coughing fit. Sans looks down at the fire and then at the potato he found in his hand. It’s raw and has roots growing out of it, not to mention a suspicious green mold on one side, by all accounts it will probably make you sick.

But it’s something.

He holds it out in offer. ‘here.’

You stubbornly shake your head and pull the foil blanket closer. ‘N-no, you’re hungry aren’t you? Last time you ate was day before yesterday.’

Sans rolls his eye at the fact you’ve kept track of him but not yourself and he glances away. If worse comes to worse he can manage on finding a small animal or something. He’s been better since reaching the surface in managing his symptoms but he still has a limit. You on the other hand being human you won’t last nearly as long as he will before going insane.

‘i’m fine. i’m not that bad, yet. i can last a little longer.’

Yet?

‘Didn’t you starve underground?’ You ask, uncertain and guilty.

Sans ignores you and gets up to slap the potato in the palm of your hand. ‘shut up and eat.’

Prepared to argue you snap your mouth shut instead over the loud rumbling your stomach makes. You shakily bite into it, wincing at how foul it is but choke it down. You finish sick and nauseous but the hunger is gone and you survive another night curled up with Sans by the dying fire. One of the first things Sans ever said to you was that he hated humans, ‘you most of all’ during one of your spats.

But it looks like that’s slowly started to change.

The mandates are just the beginning, you both find a newspaper while garbage scrounging one day that declares a new law being enacted to start locking up anyone that’s homeless as it’s now seen as a crime tied into loitering. Sans shrugs it off and scoffs as he once again, really frequently, mutters low under his breath ‘stupid humans’.

But you’re shocked, because of course they would decide that wasting precious tax dollars to lock someone up like a criminal would be a smarter decision than putting the funding towards helping to find better jobs or bills to help create some, maybe even help to lower the cost in the housing market. No money can only be spent to try and earn more money. Good luck to that though because all those fines on a homeless person?

What a fucking joke.

As if closing down the shelters and food kitchens wasn’t enough.

Land of the free? More like land of the dollar.

Horrifyingly the homeless population gets cut down by half within a month. At first you think they’re at least getting in from out of the cold, and you admit a bit shamefully that it's kind of tempting (Sans even huffs an agreement 'makes me a bit jail-lous, not gonna lie' as he rubs warmth into his hands) but when you learn they’re being sent to places that are essentially labor prison camps you and Sans both do your best to avoid being seen too often.

At this point you’re no better than a murderer or thief in the eyes of the law. You don’t even want to think about what could happen to Sans as a monster. Job interviews are never done more than twice every few days to avoid suspicion of your desperation, and you and Sans both start washing your clothes in the cleanest ponds and fountains you can find as often as you can.

It’s rough.

…You’re not prepared the first time Sans goes hungry.

You don’t know what’s happening, Sans is shaking, trembling as he stays huddled in on himself, hands fisted over his face and phalanges curled in the brim of his beanie, pulling it down in what looks to be painfully tight.

Is this really what he looks like hungry?

You wrap your arms around him, trying to comfort him but it feels as if the skating only gets worse and there’s rough growling under his breath that concerns you. You’re lost, you don’t know what to do and there’s nowhere you can go so late at night to–

A rat, about the size of a shoe, runs across the floor.

You don’t want to think it but…

It’s…

It’s something.

You leave Sans to his corner, reassuringly rubbing his arm though he doesn’t seem to notice and take a deep breath of icy air as you slowly make your way over to where the rat is nibbling on something. Your joints are stiff and your whole body aches from the cold but still you steel yourself and lunge.

Never before have you been so grateful to have decent reflexes.

It’s over in a blink with one good smack against the ground. You take a moment to calm down. Killing has always twisted your stomach, never in your most hungry moments did you ever kill an animal to get by. But this was for Sans.

You slowly walk back over and lightly shake his shoulder to try getting his attention, ‘Sans, Sans look!’

It’s agonizing how long it takes for his quaking hands to pull apart just the slightest inch, revealing his eye which is blown wide in a manic frenzy and the horrifying blackened drool running from his teeth like a tainted waterfall.

Your heart skips and you shake as you feel like prey before a predator.

Refusing to be cowed you cautiously hold up the rat and his eye immediately snaps to it. He snatches it from you with such ferocity you yelp as you quickly back away. Sans tears into it with a viciousness, devouring it whole in three gruesome messy bites that makes you slightly sick to witness. And then he’s staring at the wall unseeing, breathing heavy as he wipes his jaw with a hand as the shaking slowly dies down. Gradually he’s still again, in that ever calm pose that you’re used to seeing and his eye shrinks back down to normal size, only then does he look over at you.

It’s as if Sans just now realizes what happened and quickly grabs you, starts turning you around as he looks for anything amiss despite your worried protests. When he’s satisfied he’s holding a hand over his face and chuckling with relief. ‘aw geez, sorry kid i—’

Your sudden embrace cuts off his words. Sans doesn’t say anything and neither do you. He slowly returns the embrace with another mumbled sorry but you only hold him tighter. You don’t know what that was but you never want to see it again. You never want Sans to ever get that bad, not if you can help it. Which leads to you constantly splitting the food you find from then on, even if it’s no better than a mouthful and he tries to fight you on it before conceding every time you threaten to leave the food where you found it.

Sans’ refusal to waste is…oddly endearing.

When he calls you ‘Rosebud’ for the first time instead of kid it shocks you, but you don’t protest. In fact you try not to blush over it but he sees it anyways and gives you shit over it with a smug grin on his face.

Then you actually witness the police beating a man with a baton for trash digging before dragging him away. Only Sans’ hand on your shoulder stops you from trying to help before guiding you and him both to safety. You both stop traveling together as much in daylight, meetup at certain times and certain places to check in and then find a place together for the night. One of you goes trash hopping and scrounging during this time while the other keeps watch over the base, and it works well.

But when morning hits one day and Sans doesn’t come back you panic.

You leave a note on the cement floor with a rock ‘looking 4 u’ and then go hunting. You search half the city, risk your safety by approaching people who know you’re homeless to ask after Sans or if they’ve seen a skeleton monster. With each negative and sad head shake you grow more and more anxious. Tears are in your eyes and you're freezing when night hits but you don’t stop, you keep going and even dare to sneak around the back of the local police station to see if Sans is in a holding cell.

When he’s not you try heading back to the base for one more night.

The sound of sirens stops you.

They get closer.

Frantically you look every way you can for a path off the trail but find none in your panic. You’re going to get caught and you still haven’t found Sans and he won’t know what happened–

A hand grabs your arm, and you're running blindly where it leads you.

The shadows of an alleyway fall over you and you’re pinned to the wall just as flashing red and blue lights pass. Mind slowly catching up you glance at who’s sheltering you and meet the red glow of Sans’ eye as he peers down at you. He’s covered in sweat, panting from having ran, but he’s here and fine–

You aren’t thinking when you pull him into a kiss and neither is he when he returns it with just as much passion. He hoists your legs up over his hips, growling ‘rosebud’ with a fierceness that shakes you, and drags you further into the alleyway, safe from prying eyes.

Being in a relationship with someone while being homeless has always been complicated. Always hurt feelings or worries that can’t be helped, an uneven power dynamic where food or drink is being forced on you for good conscious that even the affection you can get begins to feel questionable in its genuineness.

There’s none of that with Sans, nothing really changes.

There’s maybe more kind words, but there’s kisses now and sometimes more.

You both still have spats and go back and forth just as you did when you first met but you both end up smiling at the end of it, together. It strikes you how you really still don’t know that much about Sans, and he doesn’t know much about you either. You’ve both just been living in the moment and you decide to keep doing so. You’ve been happy so far despite being on the run like fugitives, why change that?

You regret that decision when Sans suddenly gets sick. He was fine that morning, but as the day wore on and you kept meeting up with him he started looking off colored from his usual white, grayer and grayer. When you ask he says it’s just a cold which you choose to believe.

Then as night hits and you go to cuddle with him…

You notice he’s already passed out.

Sans is sweating and…

You freeze.

You don’t know the first thing on how to help a sick monster. You doubt anyone in any of the hospitals do either and you start worrying. He continues to sleep, unresponsive to you no matter what you say, panting, and you make the executive decision to search him and see if he has any medicine or anything at all.

That’s when you find a bundle of string tied letters tucked away in one of the many pockets of one of his multiple coats. You quickly look through them, noticing they’re all from someone named ‘Papyrus’. Birthday wishes, holiday greetings and random life updates…the word ‘Brother’ and many, many, names of various people Sans obviously knows by how they’re talked about.

You have to stop and take a second to register what you just discovered.

Unlike you he has a loving family.

So why was he homeless?

…You didn’t understand.

A sharp gasp has you jolting and slipping a hand to his forehead. He’s burning up, as hot as a kettle. You start skimming the letters again until you find a phone number. There’s only a split second where you hesitate knowing how Sans feels about his privacy and how this might really upset him but you ignore the worry and go digging until you find a single spare quarter in one of his pockets, the one you’d affectionately given him.

Thankfully the payphones still work in the area you’re both currency camping at and you manage to sneak from building to building without notice. Your heart is racing when the call goes through and the number starts ringing.

‘HELLO?’

‘Is this Papyrus?’

“WHY YES! THIS IS THE GREAT PAPYRUS! MAY I ASK WHO YOU ARE AND HOW YOU GOT MY NUMBER?’ You consider, it’s not too late to hang up and stop from crossing this personal boundary more than you have already because you still don’t know why Sans isn’t with them, you can hang up and hope that Sans was right and this was just a cold and he’d be recovered by morning.

But then you remember the potato and the alleyway after you’d feared he’d been caught…

‘He’s got a cold.’ You whisper.

A sigh.

Papyrus’ tone is suddenly subdued and no longer jovial, serious as a heart attack. ‘Where is he?’

#undertale au #horrortale #sans #reader #sans/reader #My writing #M rambles

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gamerdog1 · 2 years ago

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Saga of Tanya the Evil Season 1 Review

Sometimes it concerns me just a bit how much of the anime I like are all about the military. I mean, sure, it’s all fictional, but at the same time, I’m sure that there are other themes or motifs that would reflect much better of my viewing habits or personal beliefs. Still, there’s something that continues to draw me towards militaristic anime series. Whether it’s the idea of a never-ending battle against the forces of evil, seeing a character rise up the ranks of command as they grow as a person, or slick uniforms, I find myself watching anime that have some sort of military structure as their dominant governing body. (Fullmetal Alchemist, Attack on Titan, and Seraph of the End are just a few, to give an idea.) Yet, within each lies a unique perspective, a new take on the idea of the military and what it’s function is in society at large. Some explore the concept of war as an inevitable, righteous purpose, while others explore the ways in which dependency on conflict can lead to the destruction of a nation. However, few bother to ask the question: what kind of sick, twisted person would ever want to fight? Well, after twelve episodes, The Saga of Tanya the Evil offers a simple answer to this question, giving the story of a character who is sure to stay in my mind for years to come.

This anime follows Tanya Degurechaff, a ten year old girl who enlists in her country's military in order to secure herself a comfortable future once the war is over. Previously a middle-aged salaryman in modern-day Japan, Tanya is given a second chance at life after a disgruntled coworker pushes her into an oncoming train. Tanya, however, despises her divine savior, and sets out to achieve her goals in her new life without the help of a god, or ‘Being X’ as she calls them. Tanya sets out to rise through the ranks, doing whatever she needs in order to gain acclaim and safety in higher military positions, even if it means crushing others along the way.

Tanya, for all intents and purposes, is no good person. For crying out loud, the series title calls her evil! Yet, through every struggle, I still found myself rooting for her, no matter how many horrible things she did. In fact, I found it difficult at times to try to dislike her! Tanya is the perfect example of a character so evil that she is lovable, in the same vein as classic Disney villains such as Ursula or Scar. There’s something about her, this attitude that she has, that makes her so endearing. She can be polite and respectful, and then fly off the rails not a minute later, all without losing her signature sense of superiority. The contrast between the appearance she puts up to her superiors and how she really feels makes for an interesting character, one that allows us to see her both as vicious and sophisticated.

There were many moments of Tanya’s brilliance and wit that had me chuckling to myself as I watched this series. In one episode, Tanya leads her squadron of magic-powered flying soldiers into enemy territory, where they find enemy artillery factories. She relishes in the idea of dealing a massive blow to her enemies, but knows that she cannot without issuing an evacuation warning to the civilians who are working there. So, she gets on the international frequency, and issues the warning in a high-pitched kiddie voice, technically fulfilling the legal guidelines of an attack on civilian areas. The factory workers, blissfully unaware, laugh at the announcement, before Tanya and her crew blow it all sky-high with glee. In any other show, this scene would be horrific, but here, I found myself cheering Tanya on, amazed by her cleverness and penchant for blowing things up. Even when she commits war crimes, she does it with such cunning and glee that I can’t help but smile with her.

It’s also, at least to me, quite refreshing to see a woman in the lead of a series like this. In most anime, as in real life, men dominate the military. With some exceptions, military anime usually leave the women at home to take care of children and stare out the window wistfully, wondering when their husbands will return from the war. Despite it’s resemblance to our world, though, Tanya’s country has no issues with women enlisting, letting girls and boys fight together for their glory of ‘The Fatherland’. Maybe that’s why they keep winning battles...

Seeing a female lead in a series like this is quite empowering. Most war media, especially from Western studios, is male-dominated, and often feels like it has to justify women being soldiers in it’s fictional stories. Japan, it seems, has completely skipped past the cries of historical inaccuracy, and given us what we want. Kudos to them on that, because the female characters in this series are the ones that I found myself rooting for the most. Tanya and her companion Viktoriya have a dynamic quite like an evil genius and henchman, bringing them close while still keeping a dividing line between them through status. Watching them grow over the course of the series, I felt myself caring about them above all other characters, wanting to see them make it out of each conflict safely.

However, one of the most fascinating parts of this series was Tanya’s relationship with ‘Being X’. Tanya’s staunch atheism in the face of a literal god who holds her life in their hands is ironic, almost comical at times. She is given a second chance at life, yet refuses to believe. Then, in order to unlock her true power and help her comrades win each conflict, she must pray to that god, forcing her to submit before the power she reviles in order to progress towards her goal. Even when coming face to face with this deity, she refuses to back down, cussing it out and vowing that she doesn’t need it to get where she wants to go. Tanya’s stubbornness, combined with the threat of a true deity, creates a conflict that goes beyond the physical world that Tanya can control. No matter what she does, her life is in Being X’s hands, so all she can do is rage and bide her time. This, I believe, is a ticking time bomb that will hopefully be discussed further in the next season, and allow us to see more of Tanya confronting things that she cannot manipulate or shoot her way out of.

However, my thoughts on this series, like all series I have seen, are not without some criticisms. For one, this series falls into a trap that many militaristic series inevitably fall for. That being an over focus on boardroom chatter and old men discussing things. Not to sound like a hyper-active pre-teen who skips past all talking scenes here, but I found myself struggling to keep up with the many war strategy discussion scenes. I understand that they have significance in the story and the development of the world, but I think that the information could’ve been gotten across in an easier way. Or, perhaps, a lesser focus on those scenes, as while they explain the strategies that the army is planning, they don’t always connect with what Tanya and her squadron are doing. I found the boardroom of old military men to be quite boring, and hope that in future seasons, we get less of them, or perhaps a change in the way their scenes are shot.

Overall, though, I quite enjoyed this series. Sure, its quite more direct with it’s messaging and imagery than others I’ve seen, but for someone with a viewing history like me, its quite the refreshing viewing experience. I enjoyed getting to see a fictional war be portrayed as a confusing, seemingly never-ending bloodbath, rather than a righteous battle of good versus evil. It made it seem more realistic that way. I also really enjoyed the main character, and would recommend this series to anyone who loves arrogant, show-stealing villains. Tanya Degurechaff is, to put it bluntly, a little bitch, but we love her for it. Every cunning trick, every backstab, every acrobatic battle just made me like her more. In the end, this is Tanya’s world, and we’re all just living in it.

#anime and manga #anime review #tanya degurechaff #saga of tanya the evil #youjo senki #review #Otaku Culture #child soldiers #problematic fave #war crimes

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multiplydifficult · 2 years ago

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Sidenote before I get into a more personal processing/whinge: Re rewards, I saw this guy write about doing a more complex setup to reward him for focussing (which I roughly mimicked for like a day and found it massively helpful for focus, but I didn't stick with it, lol classic). Apologies for it being on an entrepreneur forum lol, with a bit of commentary in between and some anti-med attitudes.

(TL:DR, he picked a short amount of time - 30s was too short, he ended up on 5 minutes - that he thought he can focus on work, and set a timer for that, plucked a pretty-sounding violin string, said "yaay!" and stuck his arms up in a Y shape, and ate a chocolate chip really slowly and savoured it, and move a bead over on a string. So there were multiple sensory cues tied in with his reward.)

Sidesidenote: If that's too complex or restrictive for your purposes, it really still would be useful to spend a moment to at least praise yourself or otherwise let yourself be happy every time you do the thing you want to be doing (food rewards don't work for me, gold stars need to be found and put somewhere, it's too much of An Extra Task for me) - "Oh, yay, I'm doing the thing!" "Oh hey, I've walked over the laundry to start doing it, woohoo!" maybe with a hand-flap or, like this guy had, stick your arms up in a Y shape when you say "yay!". (Instead of the classic and unmotivating, "oh fucking finally" or whatever your variation is.)

I think there's another difficulty I personally have that I want to mention: (Also note that this is 80% me processing aloud, and focusses on 'routine' moreso than 'habit', but the whole point of 'routine' is that it's habitual, so it totally counts.):

Often the context cues don't work, because there's some sort of inconsistency around them (including getting the sequence wrong by accident).

One place I notice this the most is in my morning ablutions - in theory, what I do is brush my hair, brush teeth, shave my face, then spongebath (using the same cloth I washed shaving soap off with), then put deodourant on and get dressed.

I... cannot tell you how fricking common it is to spongebath, then go "oh feck I haven't shaved yet." I do have the routinery app, but we don't always use it, and even if we do, sometimes it gets forgotten while it's running.

I'll also sometimes skip shaving if I'm running short of time, and I frequently skip it if I don't plan to leave the house - which I guess also messes up my ability to get this consistently right, but then I also only have so much energy.

Would it end up saving me energy if I were to ensure I shave-then-spongebath Every Single Day?

Plus currently, a typical Saturday I expect nothing of me and don't bother washing. Sundays I have a thorough shower. Seems like it works ok, to have a weekday routine & a weekend routine, except that like.. I squeedgee after every single shower, and this is purely because I squeedgee after Every Single Shower - it has become A Part Of Showering just like drying myself off afterward is. If I skip even once? Getting myself to squeedgee the next time I shower is legitimately one of the hardest things I've ever made myself do.

So is not doing my morning routine on the weekends fucking up my ability to do them on the weekdays? I have no idea! And if it is, then what am I supposed to do about shower day, when I don't want to sponge bath and shower. Should I just buy a couple more cloths (so I have enough) and spongebath anyway, and shower after my morning routine?

(Also while writing this I had the realisation that damn, I have had a weird approach to evening routines. I feel like they have to include dinner and my 8pm-feed-the-cats, but I could just come up with a small post-all-that, pre-bed routine.)

Plus then there's the ever-present struggle of getting through the routine without distraction when I don't have such a time limit - My routine will take the amount of time between 7 and leaving at 8.30, but it also takes up all the time between 7 and like, leaving at 11.30. Or doing the routine on a day off when I have other stuff I want to do, because I Have To Do The Routine before I can do other stuff, and I don't wanna, so I procrastinate. Which also means I can't do the ol' "go into town at the same time every day that I have class" which would provide me plenty of time to do my work and make things a little more regular at home.

And lmao, the worst thing about studying is legitimately the structure. I finally start getting into something resembling a routine, and then holidays happen that break it. I finally get used to holidays, then term starts again, and usually with a different schedule! I legit gave up a while ago on having a Weekly Routine, but I think that's made my sense of time (in terms of what day it is and stuff) way worse, and I honestly hate it. Not sure if I hate it worse than having my routine break twice every three months.

In theory, I could try to go into town at the same time every day (that I have class, or at least that I don't have work) and come home at the same time (It'd certainly help with finding time to do homework!) but I can never bring myself to come into town earlier than I have to.

Hi I was today years old when I realized some people truly don’t have to think about every single thing they do. They don’t have to have an imaginary set of rules (I’m not allowed to put on my bra until I’ve brushed my teeth) to function.

#adhd #mental wellbeing #long #sorry I just needed to process out loud a bit #but also if anyone bothered reading this and has thoughts. they are welcome #I also started getting quite hungry while writing this so hopefully it's coherent #it is *checks time* 2.06pm and i have eaten two muesli bars today.#Also writing out the entrepreneurs award thing makes me think we should buy skittles and try that again.#we had grapes last time but they're inconsistent in quality and availability and often expensive. And take up lots of space.#Also it's nice to read that we're more susceptible to rewarded habits #Hopefully that'll convince me to try to reward / praise myself more again

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