#like i spent so much time on that too!! given what most of my digital art looks like its a fucking masterpiece!
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Bottoms up
Pairing: Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader
Summary: Two days off from patrol, what else could you and Ellie get up to after sleeping a whole day away?
Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Smut with some plot, but smut nonetheless. Bottom Ellie, established relationship, fingering, touching, oral, all Ellie receiving.
Word Count: 1.7k
It wasn’t often that you or Ellie found yourselves off patrol for a day, nonetheless two. You’d both spent the first day passed out, barely moving from your sleeping positions on your queen-sized bed as the day passed by without so much as a passing instance.
By the time either of you had woken up it was well after midnight. Your legs were intertwined, her face rested against your chest, lips pursed in a subtle pout as she dreamed. You liked to take moments to watch her, she always looked so delicate whenever she slept, a stark contrast to the woman you’d seen kill someone with her bare hands - not that it deterred you any, if anything it was a fair bit arousing.
Your hands gently brushed her brunette hair from her face, smiling as her nose scrunched in her sleep from the featherlight touch of her hair against the bridge of her nose. Slowly but surely her eyes fluttered open, hands moving up to wipe tiredly at her face as she hummed out a groan.
“Still sleepy?” You asked, being mindful to not be too loud given that she’d just woken up. “You were sleepin’ so good against my chest I almost took a photo.”
Ellie laughed at that, a tired and warm laugh that caused your chest to flush with heat. “I did.” She murmured in response, turning over on her side to rest her cheek against your upper arm. “Your tits are good pillows.”
You rolled your eyes, not able to hide the laugh that followed her crude comment. Ellie had been obsessed with your body from the moment you two had met, only vocalizing said desires and obsessions once she was finally able to snag you down as a girlfriend - not that it took much convincing.
“You always drool when you sleep on my boobs.” You replied, stretching out your shirt to check for any wet stains, luckily though there were none. “You were good this time, no slobber.”
“I do not slobber.” She responded through a pout, a huff of laughter following her words as she looked up at you.
“You so do!” You laughed back, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You’re always so warm after you sleep, like a damn heating blanket.”
With that you pulled her close to you, breathing in her warmth as you wrapped your arms around her frame. You two were close in stature, making it easy to rest your chin atop her head whenever you two cuddled. While Ellie preferred to be the big spoon on most days, sometimes she’d let you hold her.
“Shut up.” She laughed out against your chest, taking a moment to press a kiss to your clavicle as her hands roamed your form, occasionally squeezing at your hips and ass. The touch pulled a hum from your throat, eyes closing at the comfortable feeling until she abruptly began trailing her hand beneath your pajama bottoms.
“Els-“ You drawled out, a low moan coming from your throat as her fingers splayed over your cunt, fingers already knowing exactly where to go. “What are you doing?”
She chuckled against your skin, trailing kisses up your throat as she spoke. “What’s it look like? Touching my girlfriend.” Her words ended in another gruff laugh as she pushed your panties to the slide, sliding her middle and ring finger along your slick folds. Your hands flew to her arm, hips rolling with her touch as you moaned out her name.
“Fuck- so needy.” You grunted out, eyes screwing shut as her fingers circled your clit, gathering your wetness along her digits before continuing the same motion. But you didn’t want to cum yet, not with her looking so tired and adorable beside you.
So you flipped her over, grabbing her by her hips to pull her flush against your lap, causing her legs to wrap loosely around your hips. The sudden change in position made her laugh, cheeks reddening as she looked up at you. You leaned down then, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. Her hands wove through your hair, fingers tightening against the strands as she whined into the kiss, a noise that sent a bolt of arousal straight to your cunt.
“Need me to touch you?” You whispered against her lips, looking down at her face with a smile as she nodded. “Gotta ask nicely, baby.”
“Please-“ She begged, hips squirming against the bedspread as your thigh pressed against her, her arousal already seeping through her panties. “Please, please touch me - fuck me. Anything.”
You were all too happy to oblige, not having had the chance to do such a thing in over a week due to your rigorous patrol schedules. You started slow, pushing her shirt up to reveal her stomach and chest, taking a moment to kiss along her breasts and down her stomach. Her hips cantered up the lower you got, forcing you to make yourself comfortable lying down, arms looped around her upper thighs as you used your right hand to pull her panties to the side.
Her cunt was gorgeous, always was. So edible, her arousal causing a sheen against her folds where the light from your nearby lamp shone. You couldn’t help but to brush your thumb over her clit, watching as she squirmed under your touch with a huffed-out breath. She was so, so eager, practically writhing with each featherlight touch you gave her. It was fun toying with her, trailing your index finger along her folds, collecting her wetness on your digit only to place it against your tongue.
It was hard to resist her continuous begging then, all you could do was place an open-mouthed kiss against her cunt. The feeling caused a loud cry to rip its way from Ellie’s chest, back arching up and off your bed as you continued to kiss along her folds. It wasn’t enough, yet, but it was enough to have her trembling in your hold.
After a moment of teasing you flattened your tongue, licking a fat stripe up her folds, causing her hips to jerk against your face. You wrapped your lips around her clit then, sucking lightly as you continued licking languidly at her center. Her hands couldn’t seem to situate themselves, either clinging to your forearms or clutching desperately at your hair as she rode your face.
Your tongue laved at her cunt, juices coating your chin as you held tightly onto her thighs. If you were to die from suffocation from going down on her for too long, you could only hope they put that shit on your tombstone. An involuntary groan passed your lips as she ground against your mouth, pathetic-sounding whines pouring from her lips as you sucked at her clit.
“Feel good, baby?” You mumbled against her cunt, licking a stripe up her folds as you harshly smacked at her outer thigh, causing her to let out a strangled moan as she responded with a weak, “Yes, fuck yes.”
“Always so good, always taste so good for me.” You murmured against her, lifting your head to swirl your tongue around her clit, flicking it with your tongue as your fingers tightened their hold against her plush upper thighs.
It was the truth, you were practically addicted to the earthy taste of her cunt, always licking your lips after the fact and eating her out until she had to push your head away. You knew her body better than she knew it herself, which meant you knew just when to speed up your movements.
“Gonna cum?” You asked, smiling momentarily before returning to your movements, being sure not to change the pace too rapidly to not disturb her peak. You could feel her nodding, her hands grasping at your forearms as your tongue flicked along her clit again, wetness coating your tongue like a saccharine wine and you were nothing but a hopeless alcoholic for it.
There was something about Ellie coming undone underneath you that had you grinding your hips down against the plush mattress, groaning out your noises into her cunt as your wetness soaked your underwear. The sound of her whines, her hands grasping at your arms as she rutted against your tongue, you could feel your orgasm building quickly in your lower stomach - each moan of your name falling from her perfect lips sending a pang of arousal straight to your already soaked cunt.
With a broken cry of your name, her hips jerked, nearly coming free of your grasp to which you quickly hooked your arms around her upper thighs once more, licking along her cunt through her orgasm. Her nails dug into your skin, a babble of incoherent pleas falling from her lips as she tried desperately to shove you away.
“Ba- babe, fuck! Please, I can’t-“ She begged, tone hoarse as if she were near tears. You needed more, so you continued, licking and sucking along her folds as she cried out through moans. It didn’t take long for your orgasm to follow hers, making your thighs clench as you grunted against her cunt. You pulled away then, placing a gentle kiss against her inner thigh before moving back up her stomach to kiss her lips, letting her taste herself on your tongue.
“You alright?” You asked, cheeks flushed as you gazed down at her. She looked fucked out, hair a mess, cheeks red, lips parted - God, if only you’d snagged more film on your latest patrol, this would’ve made for a damn good photo.
All she could do was nod, eyes flickering between your own and your lips before she leaned up again, breaths coming out in short pants as she kissed you, tongue curling with yours. You lifted your hand, cradling her jaw as you allowed her to deepen the kiss.
You collapsed back onto the bed beside her then, letting out a lungful of air as she gazed up at you, a bit of a cocky grin on her face. “Did you cum from that?” She laughed out breathlessly, clearly finding the idea amusing.
All you could do was blush, a laugh leaving you as you pulled her back to lay against your chest. “Shut up.”
AN: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. If you have any requests please feel free to drop them in my inbox! Everything I write is also over on my ao3, my user is “Unscriptural.” Any interactions are greatly appreciated! 🤍
#ellie williams#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x you#ellie williams x y/n#ellie x reader#ellie x fem reader#ellie x y/n#ellie x you#ellie the last of us#my work#tlou2#ellie tlou
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A Recipe for a Gold Star Girl- An analysis of @mama-scarebear ‘s posts
Given how many girls are (correctly) trying their hardest to make mama-scarebear feel nice, and gain her attention, I thought I would share what I have learned over the past few days!
A brief talk of methods first though! I spent 5 hours categorizing each of Miss Grizz’s posts with a discernible theme and put them into a spreadsheet (available on request) with separate categories for posts she made, posts she reblogged, images, text, and an additional consideration for things that she has posted more than once! I then put that into a simple calculation to see what percentage of posts fall into which category, and then ranked the categories (okieee, they might just be fetishes, but it's fun to use big words) based on how much Mama posted about them!
Based on my findings I can say definitively that every girl looking for Miss Grizz’s attention should be DIAPERED composing 45% of all indexed posts! (WOAH). That's nearly 4x as much as the runner up! Every little girl should absolutely be ready to be using their pants as opposed to the potty from now on! What if, however, you don't have any diapers to wear? That's just fine cuties, since #3 on our list covers using your panties just like a diaper anyhow, what's important to note is that potty training is just far too difficult for any Gold Star Girl. We skipped over our second most dominant category, but it's something you can do every day! Humiliate yourself, at least a little, it's good practice to know you're better off debasing yourself for Mama than clinging to some shred of adult pride. It is a well known secret that Mama’s of any kind like to feel wanted, and our #4 category Dependence shows that well. Its okay if you are still embarrassingly self sufficient (I struggle with it too it’s okay) since that's something that little girls tragically must be at times, but if you're struggling to tie your shoes, or look pitifully to Mama for help with some basic tasks, you might just make her swoon. Gold Star Girls live to please, wanting to make their bodies and minds as accessible as possible! Being dumb can just help with most everything we’ve discussed so far, and if your brain is small and pliant (like A Gold Star Girl!) you can still help mama feel nice, by letting her have free run of your body! An important side note on being dumb, is that with some help from Mama, you can become even more attractive! Just be willing to let her warm steady hands guide you into a shape she likes. A Gold Star Girl should also have a high pain tolerance, pleasing Mama isn't easy, and you should expect to make some mistakes! In order to help us be our best selves for her though we might be punished to help us stay on the right path, and the better we can take those punishments the better girls we are!
In order to cover absolutely everything that Mama’s talked about would take a very long time, and undoubtedly get far too long (might even make me smarter, Goddess forbid) so instead I'll mention the two most important remaining points at once. You, prospective Gold Star Girl, should be Obsessed, and Corruptible While they fall into the single digits of the percentage of total posts, these two attributes are what Mama Grizz herself posts very frequently! You can always be worse for her, you can always indulge more, and you should be very glad that she helps you be that way.
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Hello! I saw that your request box was open, since it’s Christmas could you possibly write a NSFW scenario about Overhaul x numb reader. (The reader has no expression on her face and doesn’t really show emotion) for an Example: out of nowhere she walks into Overhaul’s office in just Christmas wrapping paper and says “come unwrap me” and overhaul is just in shock at her boldness but he is all so turned on by this.
(PLEASE SKIP IF YOUR UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THIS TOPIC sorry if this is confusing)
(I was supposed to actually go full fledged into the request and shell out some good smut but ended up somehow tiptoeing through it. I'm so sorry about that! Just got home from spending Christmas with my 2 sides of the family so I'm winding down by working off my feelings from the other day with the asks. Merry Christmas!)
~Christmas Present~
You were numb but he never minded it.
In fact, he was himself the same in a way. When you stop to think about it, Kai was always holding the same stoic expression on his face that you were. Many of the others began to wonder how it was possible you two had found your way to each other in the first place with the way you seemed to interact with each other. Yet and still, he knew you like the back of his hand...
Or so he thought.
You'd never really surprised him an any ways. He always mentioned how much he didn't like surprises to begin with. His disdain for surprise and your comfortableness with keeping things mundane seemed to go hand in hand. Neither of you ever complained about it anyway. In fact, if there ever WAS a problem to come about then the two of you had no issues expressing how you felt and immediately snuffing the problem out. But something in your brain clicked here recently. Maybe it was too much daytime television, or maybe you were being influenced by the recent gossip magazines. Either way, you were starting to wonder if maybe there was something more to this relationship that you could bring out? Don't get me wrong here, the two of you have both expressed your interests with each other both in and out. The longer you've been together, the more pressing some of the conversations had becomes. Turns out he wasn't as much as a mysophobe as either of you previously thought him to be. This was proven true by the way his hand began to wander into yours. Hugging, hand holding, kissing...and soon more began to come about. He figures 'if I'm to do this with anyone, then let it be my Y/N I suppose.' He's given into his urges and you never seemed to complain. However, the same position every time, the same amount and technique applied made you wonder once again if there was something more.
So for the first time in your life, you embraced the ability to surprise. You took some extra time, read some extra articles or blogs, spent more time looking at yourself in the mirror. No you may not have been the most attractive girl/boy/person in the world to few people, but to him you knew he couldn't resist. With all the time you spent adorning yourself in the Christmas themed set, you began to finally feel worry in the pit of your stomach. Perhaps you were venturing too far from your comfort zone? Maybe you in over your head. What if he didn't like it?
Lucky you, oh how lucky.
He'd entered his office and you took a deep breath. He paused and eyed you up and down, waiting for some sort of explanation. No matter how sexy the others made it seem, when the words came from your mouth it would appear they fell as flat as your expression. "Come unwrap me." You were aware of how embarrassing it might come across as, but he'd shown how much he didn't care by the way his eyes were drawn to you. It didn't take long for his hands to reach you, gripping and grasping desperately at any inch of skin he could get his cold digits on. His lips never left your neck for the first half of the night. He was determined to leave it littered in reminders of who exactly you belonged to. Usually he'd be done kissing by now. Usually he'd already entered you and would press into you fervently as he chased his own high. Tonight he spent extra time doing just as you asked, and slowly removing the last bit of covering from your body. His hands were steady, gliding up and down your sides and pinching along your hips before making their way to your nipples to show you some extra attention for once. He'd discovered two things that night:
The first was that it would appear to him he missed out on a lot of nice positions he should've been trying in the first place. now he's got his head screwed on tight and he'd eager to see how many different ways he can have his beloved call out to him in desperation. The second thing was that he was wrong all along...
He loved surprises.
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So I’m having another… let’s call it an internet crisis. A thing that typically happens when I have Big Problems I can’t do fuck all about which means now it’s time to get Really Upset about problems that are comparatively small but do affect my daily routine (sorry again for no cut, I still can’t remember how to do it on mobile and I fucking hate hate hate the desktop post editor as much as someone can hate a piece of code)
It’s… getting harder to use tumblr. This isn’t about the sidebar, I don’t actually hate the sidebar cause we used to have a sidebar on the other side and I’ve missed it every since it left, but it’s about other things. A lot of things, but I won’t get into them all right now. For me, the new post editor is just. Really fucking difficult to use. If you’re just doing an unformatted, unplanned ramble (like this) or a little shitpost, it’s fine, especially if you’re on mobile (somehow the shitty mobile editor is now less shitty than the desktop editor, how tf did that happen), but if you’ve got multiple paragraphs and literally any formatting is needed? Well, you’re fucked, quite frankly, it is the most dense and convoluted post editor I’ve seen in like roughly 2 decades spent online. I’ve never seen anything more counterintuitive and difficult to use
And I’m sitting here with all these twitter posts I want to move. Some are little and would be easy. Others are a lot longer and more complicated and would shove me into that formatting hell I despise so much (and given how much feedback and unanswered asks to wip I’ve sent with no improvements, I’ve given up hope of it ever being made better). Like god I really, really want to save those posts but is it even worth it to do it here? But where else would I do it?
And the secondary layer too is… there’s no fucking posts here. No engagement on posts either most of the time. 90% of my posts come from my archive cause the kylux and Kylo (plus a few others I check less regularly) tags have very few daily posts and there’s hardly anything on my dash anymore. My original posts maybe get 10 notes on average, and these posts are ones that sometimes got near triple digit rts alone on twitter. Just seems there’s exceptionally few people here to enjoy them
And I’m still on twitter. It’s slowly dwindling but it’s still slightly more active than here. I’m on pillowfort and bsky too and they are truly dead (unless you’re a furry, good on the furries for populating every site in existence). There’s just. Nothing anymore. Maybe my fandoms are just dead but it feels like the meme about passing around the same $20 among friends cause capitalism is destroying us except with posts and likes
Idk. I feel like I don’t have an online home anymore. 90% of my socializing is online and 100% of my creativity is expressed through fandom and. I don’t know where to do that anymore. I have friends I chat with on discord and I love them but it’s… it’s not the same as a whole community, you know? And now that our homes are falling apart with every sign pointing towards imminent foreclosure like. What do I do. I know I’ve been through site losses before but. It feels different. Something new and shiny always came along before the end. I fear that’s not coming and we’ll all just be lost
Idk. I don’t have a conclusion. Twitter is doomed. I hate how the new owners are running on tumblr and I’m still posting here more out of a desperate desire to remember what community felt like than any real actual want to do so. The new sites have nothing going on. Idk. I feel lost. And maybe it’s the 15 other problems I have going on right now and hormones and shit but. I just don’t know what to do and I’m scared of what the future looks like for online communities and how alone I’ll be if I lost them (even though in reality I already have lost them aside from a small handful of people)
#am I just hormonal and stressed about things like old cat’s appointment tomorrow and work and the state of the world#with a dash of good old regular depression hanging out in there too#and that’s why duolingo fucking me over yesterday and stuff like this is bothering me#to a degree that is probably excessive#very possibly#but I also feel like this has been simmering for a while#and I just#idk man idk what to do I’m frustrated and I just want a place to shitpost about my little fictional blorbos#and have other people enjoy those posts and make their own posts and we can talk about them and everything is fun and good#and idek how to get it anymore like where are people doing that I can’t find them#idk I also need to sleep but ugh#brain land is a messy place right now let’s leave it at that#text#misc#shut up nerd#long post
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The Life of a Secretary
ANOTHER KENGAN OC!
Bunko is a strong woman that is in a poly relationship with Inaba & Urita.
This is fairly relaxed/sweet, 18+ for usual.
I had grown up in a wealthy family, yet I was so plain. Aside from my wealth, I had no beauty and it felt like I had no skills. I applied myself, and it seemed that I had finally found a purpose in life, to help with money. I became an assistant at Pensonic to Uriko Suziko, the head of Pensonic. I simply did what I was told, no questions asked. I had noticed there was always something in his shadow, it seemed to be human but I couldn't decipher its shape entirely. It was ball like, limbs outstretching with oil like hair. Its origin was a mystery to me. After days of staring and trying to decipher it, Suziko finally spoke up.
"Curious about my friend, are you?" He laughed, neatly folding his papers. "Everyone who ever works for me always asks me about him. Inaba, please introduce yourself."
The ball unfurled, digits gripping into the floor as it approached me. He slowly sauntered over, crawling cautiously. "
"I'm... I'm Inaba Ryo." He gently scooped his hair out of his face, his eyes lighting up. He had a surprisingly childish and... adorable face!
Much to his surprise, I didn't scream or run. I offered a hand, squatting down to meet him with a smile.
"Bunko. The pleasure is mine." He studied my hand, and looking to Suziko, he was given a reassuring nod. His hands were rough, calloused from years of training and fighting, yet from touching his hair, it was slick with some oil. My hand, by comparison, only had paper cuts, cat scratches and some dryness. It was as if I understood him upon touching him. This... this was a warrior. A blood thirsty assassin.
"You're Suziko's bodyguard, correct?" I just... wanted to keep speaking with him. I didn't have much else to say, especially when it came to others. I lived a quiet life where I spent most of my off time playing games or trying to catch fights when I could... not that Suziko knew!
"Right." He replied with a smile.
"Well ah..." Bunko pull yourself together. What a cutie! "Y-you're so good, I hardly see you half of the time. You're amazing."
Suziko laughed, intervening. "Alright he gets it. I need you to go mail these papers for me before the mail man drops by." He offered me the stack of them. I nodded and stood up, completely forgetting Inaba's hand was still connected to mine. I went to walk away, grounded by something. I turned to look at my hand, his own still wrapped around mine.
"Oh! I'm sorry!" I gasped, trying to take my hand back. He held onto it, staring at me as his hair fell back down. Releasing it gently, he retreated back to the shadows, keeping a close eye on me as I left.
I closed the door behind me and went to go prepare these to send.
Suziko leaned against the desk, crossing one leg over the other as he folded his arms. "It's been a while since you introduced yourself to anyone, Inaba." He spoke in a warm tone.
"I like her." He looked to the door, eyes barely peering out from behind his curtain of hair.
"Just make sure you two don't distract each other too much. The tournament is coming up, after all."
"It doesn't help to have a little bit of motivation though." Inaba grinned.
--
My shift was winding down to an end. The last of the mail was sent, calls arranged, meetings made, everything was in place and I could finally rest easy. I made my way back home, meandering through the dark streets. The city was constantly bustling, never resting for any second. I boarded onto the subway, leaning near the door, my thoughts drifting on about what dungeons I wanted to go through with my guild mates...
I felt a presence closing in to me. A familiar one. A business man. I groaned, here we go again. There were no words, only a creepy huffing as I could feel his hand closing in on me. Before he could touch me, another hand gripped onto mine as a foot collided with the man. I was frozen as I saw the man go flying across the empty car. Surely there was no one else in here... was there?
I looked to my hand again to see the familiar black ball of hair.
"I-Inaba?"
His eyes looked up to me, making sure I was safe before, dragging me to a seat, placing me in it and coiling up next to me. His hair covered over me like an added layer of security. I smiled,weaving my hand throughout his hair as I enjoyed the moment. It felt like a dream, to be rescued by my... shining, spider like knight...? Still, it was pleasant, fantasy like, whimsical.
"Thank you." I replied, looking to him with a smile. Inaba grinned back. There wasn't much to say, it was simply understood.
"Your kick was pretty good." She looked to the unconscious business man, grinning. "You looked like Terry when he does his rocket moves!" I spoke absent mindedly, pumped up about what had just happened. I had such a rush of emotions I had completely forgotten I mentioned an underground fighter.
"Oh. You watch Kengan fights too?" Inaba tilted his head, giving an interested look. His hand released my sweaty one, touching my cheek gently. "I'm a fighter too."
I looked to him. I knew, but... I had never seen him fight. I could feel it, in his palms as they touched my face. His skin was so white compared to my own, he seemed like a ghost.
"I uh..." I took up my hands, cupping it against my cheek. "I can feel. Your skin is so rough, I can feel the scars, the injuries..." I found myself drifting off, speaking aloud as I felt secure with him, almost alone in this car as his hair cocooned me. "You mostly use... your digits... and... there's so much muscle build up here... it's unlike anything I had ever felt."
Inaba stared, impressed but a bit taken aback by the more affectionate gesture. He kept his cool, still keeping his finger there as he moved closer.
"Can you... feel more of me?" He asked, pressing his nose against mine.
Oh goodness! Was I being proposed for something sexual? I darted my eyes around. This wouldn't be like with the random, sleazy office workers... no, this was... something consensual between them. "U-uhm how... much more?"
"Everything." He stared into my eyes.
Damn it, too close!! I was going to reply but I was met with a sudden, forceful kiss that drowned out any noise I made. I was pleasantly interrupted, this had to be one of the most enjoyable things that had ever happened in my boring life. My heart was racing as I gripped onto his hand. He broke it, studying me.
"I..." I blinked. "I uhm... s-sure." Why did I agree to this? The train approached my station, stopping only for a few seconds before passing it. Oh. I looked to it as we sped away from it.
"My place." Inaba offered, nuzzling himself against my face.
I'd need to swing by my own place to get clothes... take a shower... put on my make up for tomorrow... this was a lot. It would be easier to go home but, I... I couldn't decline him.
"Sure." I replied, then was greeted with another ravaging kiss.
We stopped at a small station, Inaba regaining his familiar ball shape as his hand continued to grip onto mine. He paused as he left the station, and quickly, crawled up my back to cling to me. Essentially, he had become my piggy back rider. I'm not really sure how, but I was able to keep him on me. Was it years of baby sitting? Upon further inspection, it was his hairs wrapped around my body, fortifying me. I could feel his heart beating against my back, and, I could feel him directing me in what direction to go.
We made it in front of a large estate. It was to be expected due to his work, but... it was an entire clan. This was not what she was expecting. I wanted to compliment his estate, but I refrained from doing so to avoid seeming materialistic. Truly the worst trait a woman can have. We found ourselves opening a paper door, and closing it behind, I hadn't had the time to take my shoes off before being placed into the bed as he stood up.
"It's... been a long time since I've spoken with a civilian." Inabra smiled, sitting down next to me. "I'm glad you aren't scared of me."
"Scared..." I laughed. I took a few pillows into my arms, propping my head up on them as I began to speak to him. "I admire you. I wish I was born with some duty, some purpose, a skill... I haven't anything like you have."
"Well..." Ryo sat in front of me, propping his head up on the same pillows. He really knew how to comfortably invade my personal space. "I think you have a skill. I feel really relaxed with you... it's like when I was a school kid with my best friends. I want to tell you everything."
I curled my lips. How precious... it was even cuter when he was so close to me! He gave me another light peck. "Don't betray me."
"A-ah I wouldn't ever! You and Urita mean so much to me!" I laughed nervously. He was quite intimidating despite his boyish appearance. He curled up again, now sliding himself beneath the covers as his limbs contorted around me. I made myself comfortable by laying on my side, supporting my head with the multiple pillows. Ryo had found himself a set of pillows... my chest. I was more embarrassed that I hadn't showered in a while.
"I uhm... I had plans to shower when I got home... d-do you mind if I do that here?" I tried to peep out of my mouth.
"Ah, right. I'm the one who interrupted your plans, my apologies." He uncurled himself, sitting up as he smiled. He got down on all fours once again, and as I stood up, his hand gripped mine. "I should join you."
WHY DID YOU HAVE TO TORTURE ME!!!! I could feel myself screaming within, and yet, WHY DIDN'T THIS HAPPEN SOONER! I'm nearing my mid 30's and I already get teased a lot by Sizuko and the other employees that I'll be an old maid!!!
"I-if you want." I replied, letting him guide me to the bath room. It was massive, as expected for an assassin clan's home. There were showers and of course, a large tub full of warm, rejuvenating water.
"I want you to wash me and I'll wash you. It'll be fun." He was giddy. He scurried over to the showers like an excited child waiting to show his mom he could operate the gears. I walked over, having to awkwardly disrobe in front of my... boss's bodyguard? He threw off his clothes in an instant, it was almost as if I looked up one minute and the next I was greeted with his firm, tight bottom displayed before me.
He started up the water, peering back to me before sheepishly looking down. It seems like he didn't think this through either.
"U-uhm I can wear a towel if you want..." I offered. He nodded, pointing to the stack near the entrance. I grabbed one for me and him before covering myself and returning back. I threw him a towel, peering away.
"Thanks." He threw his on around his waist. He stood up, putting his hands on his hips as he laughed. "I feel like I'm in the ring again!"
I laughed with him. It was pretty cute. I paused as I took up a bucket of water. "Inaba..."
"Ryo, please." He corrected me.
"Ah uhm Ryo-kun," His face flushed at the suffix. "Do you want me to wash your back?"
His face contorted at the myriad of options, all of which excited him and made him more eager. Kun. He looked back to me, picking me up with his arms and placing me on his lap. The size difference was noticeable, but his strength let him support me easily.
“I’m going to be washing you Miss Bunko.” He smiled, lifting up a washcloth to start on my shoulders. My heart was beating a mile a minute.
--
Kengan tournament. We were one of the fortunate parties to be invited onto the ship without having to face blood shed. A familiar face strutted towards us. "Hey cos!" It greeted. Nishihonji Akira, CEO of his father's security system. He warmly hugged Sukizo and gave Inaba a hug as well. Imai Cosmo, a fighter I had heard of but haven't seen, approached us, wanting hugs. He warmly wrapped himself around me.
"Are you Mr. Sukizo's assistant?" He beamed. I laughed, straightening my glasses.
"Y-yes." Assistant was such a... general term. I was more of a support class in an RPG. I did everything for these two. If Sukizo was a merchant/tank, then Inaba was definitely straight DPS. How nerdy of me...
"I'm. so. jealous." He huffed, slumping in against me. His hug was certainly strong, it was easy to see how he could be a formidable grappler. His size also worked to his advantage. Wait... jealous? "Why do they get a cute mom assistant...?" He asked me, pouting.
"Cute mom...?" I replied weakly, unsure of how to handle this. I guess in a way... I was their mom figure. Did either of them even have mother figures? Maybe they had a decent relationship with their mom, but nothing a growing child needs. I laughed. "I'm sure Mr. Nishihonji will hire someone soon to take care of you both, kind of like miss Kaede. You're both very sweet so it'll be easy finding someone."
Imai's face turned red. He blew up at the compliment, keeping her close. How he wanted to be babied more! A hand gently moved Imai away, making him audibly whine. "Inabaaaa! Don't do this to meeee!"
"Don't tease miss Bunko." He huffed, crawling onto my back again as he put his head on top of my own. You were one to talk, you hypocrite...
"Inaba! Did you find yourself a girlfriend finally?" Nishihonji teased, smiling. Sukizo laughed with him.
"Oh yes, they're inseparable!"
... Sukizo... you spend just as much time with us, if not more so, than any other person due to our jobs. It seemed hypocritical to be giggling at a body guard and an assistant spending time together, no less working as a support system for Sukizo.
Sukizo and Nishihonji disappeared. I gently patted Inaba's head as Imai stuck around to speak with us.
"I always worry for all of you... I know this is just the way of life here and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy watching it." I explained with a hearty sigh. Inaba was now positioned around me, hanging onto my torso like a baby to a mother animal. Imai beamed.
"Ahh don't worry Miss Bunko! I'll show off for you~!" He posed, flexing a bit. I laughed and patted his arm muscle. He was only a bit bigger than my little spider, but he was incredibly formidable. It would be fun to see these two pitted against each other.
The two CEOs returned with their match ups.
"Oh I don't know who to feel worse for, us or you two." I joked about the match ups. Both opponents seemed terrifying. Ohma was like an angry dog with no master, let loose every so often. Adam was more like a rampaging bull... which was fitting given his home region.
"Don't worry, it will be over in no time." Imai boasted.
"I'm looking forward to my match..." Idara smiled, leaning into me more as I reworked my hands on his glutes to support him.
"You'll both do great, I'm sure." I reassured them. I gently placed Inaba down so I could walk again,but not without giving Imai another hug as well as Nishihonji. We all said good bye and good luck and began to walk.
Meandering down the corridor, I began to try to recount all of the details I knew of Ohma. I had only seen a few of his fights, but his style was unlike anyone else I had ever seen. Idnaba, giddy for the next match, brought himself up to a bipedial movement. I continued to hold his hand as Sukizo commented on his excitement.
"Me.. take on a rookie, huh?"
--
In the hospital room, Bunko was by Inaba’s side. As he awoke, Ukizo and him had a heartfelt reunion moment. Bunko followed with a soft stroke of his face.
"Miss Bunko...?" He smiled, looking towards her. "Could you... brush my hair?"
"Sure. I even brought all of your brushes." She replied, getting up to retrieve a box of expensive looking hair brushes. He smiled, staring up at the ceiling.
"I haven't been able to live in the moment in so long... live as a fighter. I feel rejuvenated. This is my blood. This is what I am.” He patted his chest gently, wincing in pain. His eyes trailed over to her as she lifted up her tool kit into her lap. “Does it ever bother you?"
"No, it doesn’t bother me that you are an assassin." She replied, taking out a detangler as she began to bring his hair together with her other hand. “Unless if you mean something else...” She took a segment of his hair, gently running the detangler through it.
"I mean, that someone you care for could die in any fight?"
Pausing, she looked to Inaba with pain in her heart, tears falling. She already felt them welling up by him in this position, but they were raining down now that he mentioned his mortality to her.
"Yes but... this is your life. I know if you were to die, I could live without regret because I was able to care for you, and have you trust and care for me as well. I used to worry so much but... I decided, I want to make the most of all of the time I have with you." She placed the brush down, sobbing against his chest gently.
"I love you Ryo-kun."
"I love you too, Bunko-chan."
--
Bunko was dizzy from excitement as she raced around the house, gathering up her things. A business trip with her favorite people from her company! Her dreamy CEO and his handsome and adorable bodyguard! In bathing suits no less!!! She was so eager to see more of their bodies, she laughed to herself but immediately became disheartened.
Oh right... I don’t think they’ve ever seen me in casual clothing... nor my body no less. She panicked, staring down at her toned body of built up muscle. Most men found her strength intimidating, especially so in a misogynistic society.
Well, if they don’t like me for who I am, then maybe it wasn’t meant to be... she thought, reassuring herself. W-Working here! I mean! She panicked. The last of her clothes were packed, and just in time for her ride share to arrive... with none other than her mentioned coworkers.
Walking out with her suitcase around her shoulder, her large sunhat and sunglasses blocked the sun as a flowing top hid her defined body. An expensive car pulled up, Urita in the drivers’ seat as he smiled. “Hey! Don’t you look great- oh goodness, let me help you with that!” He jumped out of the car with Inaba, who was already trying to put his hair onto it to grasp it closer.
“Ohh don’t you two worry! I got this!” She giggled as the trunk popped open, placing her brief case in between their things. “It’s not that heavy but I appreciate it.” She walked into the back as the other two got back in.
“Alright Miss Strong Secretary...” Urita chided her, getting the car ready for the long trip ahead to the beach. Inaba peered to Bunko from the passenger seat, hardly strapped in as his limbs were all over the place.
“You aren’t lonely back there, are you?”
“I’ll be fine! After all, someone needs to keep Mr. Urita company.” Bunko laughed, tilting her head.
“Alright. Wait, why didn’t we hire a private driver again?” Inaba prodded at Urita as he sucked in his bottom lip.
“BecauseIsortofwantedittobeonlyus.” Urita coughed, turning the key to start up the car. It was barely audible to Inaba, who let out a loud ‘oh!’ sound, and Bunko was unable to hear it.
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The Shade's Journal
In lieu of a letter column, James Robinson's run of Starman occasionally featured text pieces from the Shade's journal. As these are not included in the Starman Compendium or DC's digital versions, I wanted to type them up so everyone can experience such treasures as the Shade's love for dogs, Howard Hughes getting beat up, and Jack Knight's weird thing for mimes. All of these are written by James Robinson; the rest will come eventually, as will a compilation post.
Starman v2 Issue 2
FROM THE SHADE'S JOURNAL
The problem with immortality is the memories. Prolonged life means more events, which in turn means more recollections at a later date. And there are so, so, so many events to recall.
Today there was nothing much occurring that I felt warranted inclusion in my journals. David Knight patrols the nighttime streets, and the city is Opal City. For this reason, with my book open on a blank white page, and my pen in my fingers, I feel compelled to write of the other times. Times past.
I remember London. Visiting it for the final time. Visiting Oscar too, at his Tite Street home. This was long before his fall from grace, thankfully. We ate a fine cream tea that afternoon, and I think this was not the first for Oscar, as his waistline was more than beginning to show. Not that it really mattered to me; I merely pause now to reflect.
Our time together was a delight. I sat and listened mainly. Oscar's night before had been one of fine port and rakishness, so he was slow to start with his wit. But, of course, he started eventually. And I listened and laughed as Oscar commented on "this" public figure or "that" bit of scandal. Indeed, that week there'd been a salacious new tale about Catherine Walters. "Skittles" as she was known, was one of London's more famous "grande horizontales." There had been talk of her and W.H. Grace, the famous cricket player. Oscar made a remark about "Dr. Grace getting a sticky wicket" that had me doubled over with laughter.
I'd just begun to realize, then, that perhaps, just perhaps, I was no longer going to age. This fact had crept up on me. It was with shock I realized that the week prior I'd turned sixty and yet still looked to be in my late thirties. And that day was when it really sank in. Oscar was beginning to show those signs of a misspent life that should have been mine also. Seeing the signs of wear and tear in my friend made me sad. And a little ashamed. Guilty.
Yes, looking back, perhaps that was why I never saw Oscar again. It was 1891, years after we'd last met in Opal City during his American tour. And years before his troubles with Queensbury and all the dreadfulness that followed. Poor Oscar, perhaps I should have been there for him in '95. But like many other friends, I was nowhere to be found.
Anyway, Oscar's evening was to be spent with Lord Alfred whom he'd recently met. Oscar was charmingly firm in telling me that I was not invited to accompany them.
And so we were alone that night, London and I.
My mood and the wind both had a sharp sting to them, and one or the other bid me to venture forth to Tiger Bay, down by the Thames where the air was foul and all good folk know never to go. But I am not, nor ever was, a good man. And so I went.
The opium dens and drinking clubs were full, with sailors, and doxies and Orientals. You could hear any language in the work. You could see any color skin too. London has always been a melting pot, and on this night in Tiger Bay, the fire beneath that pot was burning fierce.
I walked into a deserted courtyard, on my way from one street to another, and there stumbled on a most singular occurrence: a large brown bear being clubbed to death by its owner. The beast was close to the end, from the many repeated blows his owner had given it with a sharp studded mallet. I inquired what terrible thing the beast had done, that it should be treated so, and the man replied that the bear was too old to perform anymore. The bear had been a street dancer and on weekends in Pitney Market and other parts, had made this fellow much coin. But now old, the bear was costing the owner more to feed than the animal brought in, and so the man and resolved to kill the beast and sell its flesh to the slaughterhouses.
Something about the scenario struck me as ludicrous. The man was small and weak, and yet had somehow overcome this huge animal and with no regard or affection was now ending its existence merely for aging. I think my guilt over Oscar's aging might still have been affecting me. Perhaps.
Whatever. I killed the man.
The reason I'd gone to Tiger Bay was that this had been where I was born. "I" being the Shade, of course. I had even then ceased to think of my "human" existence, before my transformation, as living. I suppose by returning to my roots, I'd thought to gain some inner peace. To this day the horror I witnessed during my creation and the countless deaths that occurred then still haunt me. Back in 1891, they were vivid and terrible, and I know I'd have done all and anything to end them.
But going back never allows one to go forward. That's a myth fashioned by poets. And I am no poet. All I got from my journey was sadness—the kind that grabs and clings and threatens to drag you down to the shadows of a dark place, where even I, who know much of dark places, am fearful to go.
It was as I turned back towards the city that I saw her, the final nail in the coffin that was my waning affection for London. The Victoria Match Factory employed over a thousand girls and women. The work consisted of tipping match sticks into phosphorus, which, after prolonged contact, caused the bones of the workers doing this to decay. The sight of beggar girls without jaws or fingers was a common one. "Phos girls," as they were known. And it was now that one such poor wretch approached me. The lack of a jaw prevented her from speaking, and instead she mewed plaintively, like a kitten. I had seen such girls before. I had seen them. And I had thought my heart hardened by it, that sight, and everything else.
Yet that night a tear fell from my cheek.
I gave the girl a guinea. More money than she'd ever seen, to be sure.
And I turned and walked from her and from London and from England. Never to return. Opal City had been my residence then, a place where I lived and went forth, visiting London and Paris and Gotham City. But from that moment on, the Opal truly became my home. My place in the world.
*****
It's been an hour since I wrote those last words. In that time, much has happened. I've enjoyed a rather good French wine; this, the perfect complement to my dinner of beef and oyster pie. Also, some lucky citizen of Opal City won seven million dollars in the lottery. And finally…David Knight, this city's current champion, has been less than lucky.
David Knight was murdered twenty minutes gone.
The reports are still vague, definite answers few, but it does indeed appear that David Knight has died. There's nothing I can do about it, of course. Until I know more, it would be unwise of me to attempt anything. And of course, there's the distinct possibility that I won't want to attempt anything, anyway. So for now, I listen to the news reports, and I think, and of course, in my present mood…
…I remember.
Few recall the Starman of the 1950's, but I do. He flew the night skies over Opal for a year and a week, and then died a brave death. Brave and foolish, Ted Knight was still intent on his research. He'd just developed the prototype Cosmic Rod, and I think his mind was wrapped up in furthering that work. He was recovering physically too, from injuries sustained in Washington. Indeed, thinking about it, he looked the worse from that for quite some time. And then he married also, and women will ever be the death of men's endeavors, so who can blame Knight for his time away from the cape and costume.
I've many theories on the identity of the champion who arose to take Ted's place in those days when the Starman of lore wasn't there for his city. Alas, the ultimate answer to that question is still one that eludes me. Perhaps Knight knows. Perhaps one day I'll get the opportunity to ask him. However, it was evident that the 1950's Starman had different powers and a different costume and bore no real relationship to the one before or any since. A riddle surely. A puzzle. Some love such twisted passageways, but I detest them.
I'll know the truth, the whole truth, one day. I will.
But for now I content myself merely to remember.
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devlog 18: doo dads, inventories and recycling like responsible authors.
The script for TSTW is 17 scenes long so far, still in progress. I estimate it will be around 30 to 40, which is a welcome change given that my last comic was around 110. with that in mind…
would you believe me if i said i spent an entire day looking for an extremely specific book that i used to own- well two actually now that i think about it. I didn’t find them. One of them was a book with a bunch of electronic crafts for kids, the other was this book where you’re supposed to tear the pages to make everything from a chessboard to a cup. Not important, the point is Brandon Sanderson said something very insightful about writing characters that are smarter than you: being smart, often, is a matter of how much time you have to solve a problem. We consider someone as being smart when they very quickly have a good answer to a given question. The reason I was looking for two random ass books I owned as a kid is because I have the time to figure out how the kids are going to channel their inner bear grylls to improvise, adapt, overcome. they do not.
today, we’re going to be figuring out what we can realistically get away with as far as child inventions go, as well as talking about how as artists, reusing work is normal and shouldn’t be something to be ashamed of.
So first things first: what do the kids in our story have access to? this was the easiest to figure out because I know what living situations most of them experience, so here’s a list:
killouette: stationary and a camera. I’m still unsure which time period the story takes place in, so it’s unsure whether or not the camera is digital. It's objectively more fun if it’s a polaroid camera, because then all her pictures are physical. This is a plus because the only person with a computer in the group is talbas. On the other hand, setting the story in the mid 2000s means she probably has a small digital camera that she could connect to a bigger screen. alternatively, if i choose to set the story in the present, she could have both. unwanted old cameras left in a drawer somewhere.
bata tete: fun craft tools (paint, glue, string, ribbons, a big pile of magazines), a basket and a printer. you can’t go wrong with paint and pictures if you’re writing a story about kids, and this is also helpful because it introduces additional things to bata tete’s character: a more artsy side to complement the mission impossible stuff. instinctively i’m thinking the strings are definitely going to serve as trip wires at some point or another, and paper mache is definitely going to be involved in some way.
falefil: a po box, a piano and an electronic voice recorder. My current headcanon for falefil is that he doesn’t really like toys, so minus getting aluminum foil from his mom’s kitchen, he can probably lend his electronic voice recorder to accomplish something. maybe a makeshift MP3 player?
zmik: toys and objects intended to be used with other kids. all unused. I’ll admit this the saddest one by a longshot but it hits home a bit too hard to not include. I remember the piles of old board games, slingshots, marbles, even -the irony- a pair of walkie talkies I had that just… sat there. I like to imagine Zmik is finally in a place where he can share these things with people he likes.
motsik: broken knick knacks, pieces of mirror, detergents, bent spoons, a lot of wooden kabab skewers. It should come as no surprise that most of what Motsik has to offer is broken to some capacity, because of his violent household. the things he brings are broken because he effectively fishes them out of the trash, figuring his friends might have something they could do with them. note: motsik could also try to make stuff himself, but given his character this would be infrequent.
talbas: her uncle has an electronic equipment store, he teaches her stuff and low key is in on some of the shenanigans the kids do. despite the neglect from her parents, talbas loves spending time with her uncle whose store is nearby. he loves the fact that she’s interested in soldering and making fun doodads, so he has a budget set aside just for her. it’s pretty obvious that talbas’ uncle is the only person tethering her to a sense of purpose and a feeling of love.
claude: a lot of organic things and the knowledge thereof. Claude has little in the way of possessions, but she has a lot of street smarts. Claude keeps track of inventory across the 6 kids’s houses and frequently is the first to suggest solutions to problems.
with that being figured out, all we need to do to try to combine what they have with what the problem is and we see what comes out the other end. for example:
let’s say they need all hands on deck for something but that means ignoring a hallway where someone could come see what they’re doing. we know they would have access to stuff like strings, empty spools, simple electrical components and tin foil, so they could for example make a small trip wire using one of several methods i thought up:
this one is a pressure pad you can hide under a carpet that sets off a small light or beeper.
this one is a single use tripwire that would not require miles of electrical wire lol.
two things to note: the actual schematics in the book are going to look much nicer but also i’m approaching writing this book with publishing in mind, so I’m steering clear of actually dangerous things like blades and anything stronger than a small battery. which is a shame- i have a very funny story about how i personally once nearly set my building on fire trying to make a lamp when i was like 11, but that’s not the kind of stuff that will get published for middle grade/early young adult readers. I hate having to squash my book into a category like this, but if i’m to have any hope of doing what i love for the rest of my life, this feels like a necessary sacrifice.
now, as an aside, let’s talk about something I personally do that I think might be helpful to others and I’m going to illustrate my point by sharing spoilers for a project I won't get to for another couple of years.
Around 2014 was my very first attempt at writing something. it was a story called “Last of the Predators”, a very angsty attempt at something serious written by a version of me with no connection to the subject matter whatsoever. it had no plot outline, end in mind or clearly defined characters. Everyone spoke in the same monotone calm way and every paragraph had way too much description of the person’s emotional state. I eventually lost interest and dropped it, even deleting the blog I had been using to document the updates on.
shortly after I started making comics, i came up with the ice cream men: a story that follows two aliens kicked off their planet who arrive on earth. In their boredom, they decide to follow the recipe for something called ice cream, inevitably bringing up a million other topics along the way. This might sound fun, but when I came up with it at the time it didn’t feel enough to justify the commitment it would require. it initially focused too much on jokes and really didn’t have much to offer in the way of depth. so i shelved the idea for a while and this is the piece of advice i have:
don’t throw ideas away, just shelve them.
around this time is where my studies got in the way. When you’re just starting out trying to make art, everything stops you dead in your tracks. It wasn't until I started working on illustrating almost home that the creative gears started turning again. I came up with a whole bunch of things, but some of what I did is revisit my folder of abandoned projects. Sometimes when a project feels dull, it can be helpful to merge it with another one. This doesn’t always work but when it does it can lead to very interesting results. This is what I did with the ice cream men. I took the philosophical premise of the ice cream men which suffered from an underdeveloped plot and bad setting that didn’t suit the theme, and I combined it with the idea that survived after I cut all the slack out of Last of the predators which is the following:
The world LOTP is set in suffered a cataclysmic event that killed all the animals. Humans being how they are, they quickly built a religion around this and decided that some people have “predator souls” while others have “prey souls”, even going as far as to genetically engineer the way people look to introduce animalistic features to faces and bodies. The story is very political in nature and revolves around this role reversal that happens many many years after the cataclysm… and that’s where all the bullshit comes into play that I cut out.
As a side note, what I just told you is the polished version of the lore I rewrote for this devlog- it’s not the one I decided to settle on for the ice cream men but I'm sharing it regardless for the sake of documentation. point is: the reason this felt relevant to me is because combining this with the ice cream men added a layer of intrigue to the story which i really liked:
two aliens are kicked off their planet and arrive on a deserted planet which the reader knows is earth. In their boredom, they decide to follow the recipe for something called ice cream, inevitably discovering more about this strange planet and its past…
That past is the yet untold story of LOTP, with a less shitty name and more consideration given to the themes and mechanics of the things at play. so effectively we have several narrative layers at play:
the ice cream thing which could be a commentary on purpose or the creative process in addition to being a fun jumping off point for comedic relief
the past of the planet which could offer some mystery to the story, and maybe encourage some more serious topics to be brought up
and a third secret one, that i’m not willing to share just yet.
which i think is a story more worth telling. Here's another example more immediately relevant to our devlog. two years ago, I was thinking about how funny it would be to have unnecessarily complicated contraptions in the kitchen. the type of stuff you see unemployed engineers do for social media instead of benefiting mankind. I asked myself how would you go about making those contraptions useful: maybe someone could benefit from them if they were for example disabled, cool. too straightforward for my liking. What if they were small? like… as small as a bug? a very small chef.
how to cook when you’re 2 inches tall. that sounds fun i like it. What if it was a cookbook where part of the instructions were these complicated instructions on how to build and solder electronics? fun! I need a chef and an engineer to do that. I am neither.
don’t throw ideas away, just shelve them.
I kept thinking about that for a while. I imagined our protagonist Claude, a small hercules beetle who loves to cook. I wrote three versions of the script of a comic and even discussed making it a short animation at some point, but it didn’t feel right. it’s not the vision. It needs to be a cookbook.
queue Killouette and the fact that I’m really annoyed at how the camera can see everything. I remembered the idea I had with the cookbook, so I thought why not borrow some of that and make it a diary? Let’s add Claude in there as well for good measure. Maybe then how to cook when you’re 2 inches tall can be the one that comes after Killouette if I’m lucky enough to get funding. A grown Claude who made it big as a cook. By combining the two projects into two parts of the same series, I fixed the problem I had with the camera and added continuity to two otherwise one off projects.
So maybe that’s something to keep in mind. don’t throw away ideas, shelve them instead.
Next week we’ll be looking into the supplementary children’s book attached to killouette.
devlog updates on tuesdays.
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Plugging my Quaritch "Avatar 3" Fanfic
Hey all! So I had made this Tumblr, my first ever, to exclusively share my mostly through Quaritch's eyes, post-TWOW fanfiction on Ao3, titled A New Mission. Link below! Just wanted to plug it again given the resurgence in Avatar hype from the digital release. It's not done yet, but the plot is getting intense and my story will be driving to a close soon!
I post when I drop new chapters and also share little snippets, especially flashbacks to the time Miles, Spider, and the Recoms spent together, which people on here really seem to especially love! 🥰 But those Flashbacks fit into a much broader, substantial plot that I think Quaritch fans (and others!) would greatly enjoy.
One of my most recent kind comments said,
"This is so excellently crafted..."
If you're like me and you're just absolutely YEARNING for Miles' plotline in Avatar 3 (him continuing to share parallels with Jake Sully) I think you would really enjoy my robust, very narrative driven story. But make no mistake! There ARE hot, cute, and passionate moments with Miles as well 😜 There's also action! As well as a robust suite of developed characters, both familiar and original.
I am writing it as canon strict and logical as I can re character decisions, personalities, and motivations-- the idea that it is a *reasonable* follow up to The Way of Water. And in fact, some Avatar 3 leaks already kinda suggest that my story is capturing a bit of what James Cameron be puttin' down haha. It's a slow burn, BIG story and I'm putting a lot of work into it, it's currently over 240,000 words and I am just trying to get more exposure for it. 😅 Art coming soon too!
Plot Summary:
Miles Quaritch failed his mission to capture Jake Sully, the leader of the Na’vi insurgency. Now, the RDA and Bridgehead Command have a new mission for him and his surviving recoms, Wainfleet and Mansk—a mission to gather intel and make an alliance with the newly contacted Ash People, a Na'vi clan endemic to a volcanic archipelago. What’s at first just orders will slowly come to change the young Colonel’s life and his relationship with Pandora and the RDA forever.
Mansk and Lyle are also heavily supporting and I think you'd really love what I've done and am doing with their little bromance. Mansk may even be finding a little love of his own among the Ash People. later in the story 👀
Are you already reading A New Mission? Let me know in a reply ^_^ It'd really mean a lot!
#quaritch fanfic#quaritch fanfiction#avatar fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#ao3#read on ao3#miles quaritch#colonel miles quaritch#recom quaritch#avatar quaritch#quaritch x oc#ash na'vi#na'vi oc#ash people#colonel quaritch#recom mansk#avatar mansk#mansk#mansk x oc#lyle wainfleet#recom wainfleet#corporal wainfleet#avatar wainfleet#avatar spider#spider socorro#spider avatar#recoms#jake sully#avatar james cameron#avatar 3
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The Mosley Review: Babylon
Its been a while since we've had a truly chaotic and whimsical film. A film that doesn't play it safe and goes for the insanity right off the bat. What we really haven't had in a long time is a period film about the massive transitions, hardships and dangers of Hollywood. Its become a niche genre in film that isn't explored as much since the entertainment genre has evolved so much. This film explores the classic period of cinema in the 1920's when silent films were king and the music, fashion, alcohol, opioids and depravity were at its highest peaks. Just the first 20 minutes alone was like a serious fever dream of debauchery, style and fun that was out of this world. They called it the roaring 20's for a reason and this film excels at showing why the era earned its title. Aside from the parties and drugs on tap, you got a fast look at the quick pace of the birth of a star, the growth of a business man, a musician striving for greatness while facing a challenge that is still prevalent today and then a fading of a star. Its so multi-layered and dizzying to explore but in this 3 hour epic, there was plenty of time spent to explore the dark underbelly of the industry and actual character development.
Margot Robbie was absolutely stunning and insanely energetic as rising starlet Nellie LaRoy. The moment she crashes on to the screen she commands the focus. You see LaRoy's meteric climb to fame as she quickly shows off her talents and then the eventual and disturbingly fast cocaine fueled decline. It's a cautionary tale as old as time, but she somehow finds a way to bring out the empathy of the character. Diego Calva was awesome as the film assistant Manny Torres and his journey was something to really focus on as you see the story truly through his eyes from the ground floor. The emotional turmoil the man goes through as he worked so hard to survive not only the assistant life, but also his navigation of the studio system was inspiring and terrifyingly stressful. His chemistry with LaRoy was the heart of the film and yet lacked a lot of logic towards the last half of the film. Anyone else would've stepped away from the chaos, but man did he really hang in there. Brad Pitt was excellent as the arrogant, decadant and never sober movie star Jack Conrad. Pitt truly delivers a strong look at the life of a rock star actor who's earned his status in the industry and yet has never really given up the party life. He is effected the most once the industry begins to shift away from silent films to talkies and to see his reactions was refreshing and classic. Jean Smart was elegant and fun as the journalist Elinor St. John. She may have been around for the debauchery, but she knew what was coming and had a realistic outlook on the world. Li Jun Li was outstanding as the cabaret singer and titles designer Lady Fay Zhu. She was so smooth in her scenes and even though she was not in it for too long, she represented that sexuality and control that Hollywood at the time was not ready for. Jovan Adepo was great as the sensational jazz trumpet player Sidney Palmer. His rise to fame was fun to watch and subtle in execution. I loved how he handled himself as essentially a session musician that got recognized for his talent. The obvious level of racism of Hollywood is explored in this film in one of the most degrading scenes I've ever seen and yet it still happens today, but in digital form. Sidney never forgets his roots and he was truly one of my favorite characters. Tobey Maguire was absolutely weird and terrifying as the truly messed up mob boss James McKay. He was very welcoming, but man his eyes were filled with evil and he takes you into the darkness in the most disturbing scenes of the film.
The score by Justin Hurwitz was pure brilliance. It was fun, energetic, chaotic and captured the tone and speed of the film's nonstop pace. Even with its infectious energy coursing through the veins of the film, there were enough moments where it highlighted heart of the film. The cinematography was outstanding and showcased the epic parties and landscapes of the many locations in Los Angeles. Even though the film was a 3 hour epic, I didn't feel the length of the film because of the fast pacing at not many have mastered that technique. There were moments that I think could've been trimmed a bit here and there, but overall I loved the film history lesson. The old saying of life immitading art and art immitading life was on full display in the last 30 minutes of the film and that I enjoyed. This was not only a energetic celebratory look at cinema history, but also a cautionary tale and reminder of how fast your life can change in the entertainment world for the best or the worst. Let me know what you thought of the film or my review in the comments below. Thanks for reading!
#babylon#margot robbie#diego calva#brad pitt#li jun li#jean smart#jovan adepo#tobey maguire#damien chazelle#justin hurwitz
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5, 6, 7, and 8 for the artists asks if you’re still doing them babe! ❤️
Thank you so much for sending these!! ❤️ I told you that I love to ramble on about art given the chance 🥲. thanks for giving me the chance! 🥰
5. Anything you haven't drawn yet but want to?
YES, god so much. 😭 Just in terms of Capri I have an entire list including a comic and several AUs that have taken up a lot of space in my brain, but not on paper (yet, hopefully).
In general there are also a lot of things. I'd love to (be able to) draw sceneries that depict a mood and you feel transported to. Also scenery pictures with people/characters in them. I've only just begun to work and learn about how to use lightning and shading and I would love to one day be able to make someone actually feel something when looking at it. The way there is long though. 😂
On a different note - I'd also love to be able to draw something nsfw at some point without combusting with embarrassment. 😂 I have something in mind, let's see if I ever get there.
6. Which artists inspire you right now?
That's such an unexpectedly hard question... My love will always be with the Impressionists, especially Monet and Van Gogh. I also absolutely adore Art Nouveau currently and also Klimt. There are artists from this fandom that I absolutely adore and some that I just found through Instagram or on here. I'm inspired by art in general a lot, without attaching it to a certain artist. But I think what stood out to me recently is how much I now focus on colors.
7. Favourite works of all time excluding your own?
And here I thought the question before was hard. 😂 Wow, that threw me for such a loop. But I think as much as I'd like to have a more unique approach, I have to name Starry Night as one. I spent hours in Van Gogh's museum in Amsterdam and I would go there again in a heartbeat. Also "Wanderer über dem Nebelmeer/Wanderer above the sea fog" by Caspar David Friedrich immediately came to my mind, that was one I was completely drawn to in school. And honestly I can't settle on one by an impressionist. 😂 I will probably kick myself as soon as I post it when I remember all the thousand others I like. But I'll stay with the basics. Melancholy is a big draw for me apparently.
8. What do you like most about your own work?
Okay, this might be the thoughest question yet. But actually I like that I'm not too afraid to use colors anymore and would rather go overboard then keep it too muted. I just love colors.
I also really like the progress I've made over the past year. Last year this time I wasn't even drawing digitally yet (or drawing anything past the occasional sketch). So I think I've come quite far, even though I obviously still have a long journey ahead of me.
Also I really like my Damen? 😂 I was scared to draw muscled men last year and I think I'm doing quite okay on that front. My take on Laurent is falling behind for this cause, but you gotta do what you gotta do. 💪
Thank you so much for sending these in!! I've had a lot of fun coming up with the answers even though it was quite the challenge. 😂❤️
#shealwaysreads#ask games#thanks babe!!!!!#i deleted my first response somehow#there was just a blank page#it's been a long and technologically challenged day for me#glad i didn't accidentally delete it!!#this got a bit long#sorry
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In Which I Properly Introduce Myself
Good Morrning Tumblrverse
Updated 4/15/2024:
My name is Ash
Around the internet I am known pretty much ubiquitously as Ash Something Art
I am currently active on all of the following platforms:
My wordpress website
Facebook
Patreon
Redbubble
Bluesky
Instagram
DeviantArt
Youtube
TikTok (Backup is here)
Discord (@AshSomethingArt)
Reddit
Creatively
Ello
Fetlife
I am a 35 year old multidisciplinary artist.
I’m Genderfluid AMAB, and I live my life as a lifestyle clown.
But I’m here on tumblr to focus on who I am as an artist, so let’s dig into that.
There is always some confusion when I say I’m a multidisciplinary artist, as it’s not an incredibly common term, but to clear that up out of the gate, it means I don’t specialize in just a single type of art, but work my absolute ass off to create awesome work in a wide variety of styles and media.
There’s a lot of push for artists to have a single recognizable style and to only work in a single medium; But this isn’t for the artist’s benefit. I’ve always looked at that as being the same mindset that people have that makes guys tell their girlfriends they’re “Too much” or to tone themselves down. People want artists to have a single style so that artist’s work can fit inside of an easily digestible and recognizable box, where just a glance can tell them which artist did that work.
And I hate that. I hate being limited. I do art because I love art, and if I want to do a realistic charcoal work one day then a digital anime style piece the next I’m going to do that.
What styles do I use, you ask? That’s a hard question to answer in-depth because I have practiced a wide range of media (Charcoal, graphite, pastels, acrylic, oil and watercolor paints, photoshop, illustrator, pen and inks, colored pencils, Prismacolor markers, lithographic printing, screen printing, woodcarving, leathercrafting, sculpture, photography and photo-editing), and multiple consistent styles with each medium I use.
But to simplify and clarify it, I can at least list the styles I am happily ready to market myself in as a professional at any given time because I have spent over ten years doing each of them, and these styles are my own at this point;
-Anime and Manga Style - My own Anime style is a bit more on the realistic side; I grew up referencing a lot of Seinen manga, pulp magazine, Death n=Note and stuff like Air Gear, as well as a bunch of Manhwa like Sun Ken Rock and King of Hell. That said, I’ve also practiced (a lot) replicating the big anime and manga’s styles from when I was growing up; Naruto, Bleach, Dragon Ball, One Piece, Nana/Paradise Kiss, etc. I obviously prefer working in the style I developed myself but I have options with the anime and manga styles.
-Western/American Comic Style - When I’m drawing in my own comic style, I would say it most closely resembles Michael Turner, my favorite artist from Image Comics, who created Aspen Comics and later worked with both Marvel and DC. I grew up inspired by his work and that led to my work being similarly inspired by him. I spent a lot of time in the comic convention circuit in LA meeting artists and being exposed to their work, and while I was a bit of a fan of Marvel and DC growing up, those titles didn’t come close to how obsessive I was with Image/Top Cow, Aspen Comics, Dark Horse and Heavy Metal magazine. As an adult I’m very aware of how problematic Heavy Metal is, but that doesn’t stop it from being one of my first major artistic inspirations when I came across it as a kid and didn’t know any better; And themes aside, the art was REALLY good; Between Hajime Sorayama, Frank Frazetta, Luis Royo, and a slew of others who did work for them, the visually artistic quality of the magazine was amazing.
-Semirealism/Realism - I don’t want to say that this is where I started as an artist, because I I remember correctly I started drawing with anime characters back when I was like 9. However by the time I was 13 I was already trying to draw realistic portraits in pencil, and by the time I was in high school I was already able to do it. I don’t really have a lot of specific inspirations for this style, as honestly it’s the style that came most naturally to me. I have always done my fastest, best work in straight up graphite or charcoal; And I’ve been able to expand that work to a slew of other media, leaving charcoal as my favorite of them all. Given the time, I can do (and have done) massive 18x24″ charcoal portraits and pinups that look almost like a photo (although I do prefer to make the work obviously drawn when I can).
-Cartoon Style - Being a realism artist makes cartoon styles the hardest of the styles out there for me; It’s about simplifying. Simplify simplify simplify. My own cartoon style is a mix of anime/manga chibi styles and things like Jhonen Vasquez and Tim Burton’s art, as well as a few different web comics that I grew up with. I can’t say my cartoon work looks like any specific cartoon artist, but those are at least my go-to inspirations when I’m working in the style. If at all possible I do prefer to avoid this style.
-Character/Pinup Style - Unlike the rest of the styles, this one is completely a creation of my own. It mixes semi-realistic shading with a linework style inspired by both anime and American comics, but wouldn’t necessarily fit into either of those brackets. It’s simpler than semi-realism, but a lot more realistic than cartoon, and I’m looking forward to creating a lot of work in this style very soon.
-Tattoo Styles - I will preface this with the fact that I have no experience doing tattoos on peoples’ bodies. However, I have had a TON of commissions where people wanted me to design their tattoos, and so I had to study them in-depth so I knew what the tattoo artists would need when the client took my art to them. I am confident in the American traditional style, Contemporary, Cartoon, and Black and Grey styles.
-Graphic Design - Originally, I started learning graphic design for my own purposes; How to brand and market myself. Create my own logos, etc. I figured, if I already have the artistic abilities why not do it all on my own? Before I realized it, I was doing paid work for anything from logo and t-shirt graphics, to album art, magazine covers, web banners and profile pictures. I can do both corporate and illustrative graphic design, but I prefer illustrative.
-Nagel Style Reproductions - To be clear, this is reproducing his style, not reproducing his work. Nagel was one of my very first formative artistic inspirations. About ten years ago, I decided to do one piece referencing his work as just a style study, and then people wanted me to do portraits of them in the style, which eventually led to me now having a portfolio of about 30 pieces that are various portraits, pinups, etc, in his style. I never expected or wanted to be known for that, as it started as just a practice thing for me, but Nagel is so iconic that it became one of my most demanded styles from prospective clients.
So there you go.
Eight solid styles that I work in.
I don’t mean to ramble, but stopping me from infodumping when I get started is really hard to do, especially if I’m the one who needs to stop himself.
In the past, I haven’t been the best at labelling my artwork with the exact style I’m using, and so there’s some confusion as to which I’m using on specific pieces among my current fanbase, but I do hope to rectify that with a new labelling process that I’ve started the last couple weeks for clarification. I unfortunately will not be going back and labelling work that has already been published online, but hopefully you all will start to see the distinctions as I publish more.
#About Me#Introduction#Ash Something Art#ashsomethingart#ashsomething#ashsomethingtheclown#ash something#artist#art styles#multidisciplinary artist#drawing#digital art#digital painting#traditional art#fine art#illustration#pinup#portrait#about the artist#pinned posts#adhd artists who can't shut the fuck up#i started making an introduction post and turned it into an essay again a ten part monologue by me
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I've been getting into digital art these last few months because I missed oil painting and digital art is cheaper. But today I started thinking about why drawing musicians performing is so fascinating to me while working on my current piece.
I think there's something interesting about viewing someone from so close and from an angle you're not often in. As a musician, you spend a lot of time watching other musicians play and you can tell when someone is just at ease with their instrument. I love trying to capture that in a figure's form. But it's more than that also. For me, it's this idea that I'm not the only one watching this person and looking up to them in that moment, literally even.
I think I'm a little obsessed with the idea of idolatry, for many reasons including having been raised a muslim. If you don't know, idolatry is considered 'shirk', which is translated as polytheism, and it is a Big, Bad Sin. In fact, by drawing realistic figures with faces, plenty of muslim scholars would argue that what I am doing is haram. While that would have given me serious anxiety when I was younger, now I find a kind of glee in it to know that this inconsequential thing I find happiness in infuriates some people so much, especially when I sin in much worse ways (IM VISIBLY QUEER ASF AND I HAVE SOME SHIT TATTOOS). Like yes, get your knickers in a twist because I had fun trying to recreate the beauty God put on Earth -- seeing as I'm going to hell anyway, of course I'm going to have a good fucking time before I get there.
Oh yeah, being a musician is also haram, technically. Big No to one of the most important forms of human communication. Depending on interpretation and who you ask, that includes all of singing, guitar, piano, etc., and listening to music.
Yes, I spent my formative teenage years rebelling through plastic discs and headphones. I stressed out my mother because I liked the twang of an electric guitar.
Also, look at these homoerotic pictures:
While I'm definitely not a Harry Potter fan anymore, I think about that scene in All The Young Dudes a lot where Remus is watching Top of the Pops and he's secretly fascinated by this fleeting moment when David Bowie and another performer share a mic. That one little scene captured so much of what it felt like growing up as a repressed little queer boy in a violently homophobic environment where everything gay was completely banned. For a long time, this was the closest I got to consuming outright gay content because if I was caught, it was a lot more explainable and I know I wasn't alone in it. So yeah, it’s quite important to me and I have a lot of memories and feelings attached to the music.
And you know, if the day of judgement comes and I really am told to give life to my creations, so what? If God didn't want me to imitate his creations then He shouldn't have made them so goddamn beautiful and I stand by that, so help me God.
Or maybe I'm deeping it too much, let me know xxx
(side note - I have this memory of being told off for watching BBC Sherlock as a young teen because my mum heard the word 'gay'. It was the scene where Watson denies being gay. I find it funny that the arguably homophobic show was also banned in our household because even acknowledging the existence of gay people was too much.)
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mama, we all go to hell [Chapter I]
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[AO3 Chapter I] [AO3 Chapter II] [AO3 Chapter III]
Sykkuno came knocking at his door with a disarming smile and too many baggage, worming his way into Corpse’s mind in a spiraling confusion of quiet affection and gentle madness. In a life where the scent of blood clung to him like the second skin, Sykkuno offered him a respite in early mornings filled with coffee and sleepy smiles. It was terrifyingly easy to fell in love with this man—even when the world fell apart, Corpse would follow him into the thunderstorm; holding onto his hand as if the madness and danger were solemn promises they carved into their hearts.
[Corpse/Sykkuno; Comfy Cartel + GTA-esque Sykkuno au; published 2021-07-15; total word count: 63,805]
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It was a race against time the moment Sykkuno stepped into the apartment, shy smiles and too many boxes with questionable contents following behind him.
Lily had called him earlier this week, saying that his cousin-or-something-something was going to live with Corpse in the apartment they had given him. Corpse stayed silent the entire time and tried to convey his thoughts and disappointment through the static line. The apartment wasn’t exactly small, but he just didn’t want to say that he had turned the spare bedroom into his workspace and now he was too lazy to tidy it up. Where the fuck would he hang his movie-esque whiteboard with all the pictures and clippings of his targets, huh, Lily? Emma had taken one look at his so-called workspace and rolled her eyes so hard he feared it wouldn’t come back to the front.
“This is why Toast is disappointed in you,” Emma said, and gave him stacks of documents. It irritated her to no end that he wouldn’t just accept the files in digital form. He reasoned that it was harder to delete digital tracks, she hit his shin with terrifying precision with her thick-soled boots and shot him the most unimpressed look she could muster. “You fucking dramatic son of a bitch.”
Corpse sighed miserably; no one appreciated his dramatics. Although, to be fair he was also a hypocritical asshole in that regard. Emma had no qualm whatsoever in pointing out that a ‘workspace’ containing all the proofs of his job was just the same as creating a huge-ass track. Seeing now that he had to wipe clean his workspace to make room for Lily’s bullshit cousin, he could see the point. Still, his argument stood—why couldn’t anyone just let him be a dramatic son of a bitch with a cheesy, movie-esque workspace? Exactly.
“What kind of menace is he,” he said flatly to the phone.
“He’s a sweet kid, I promise,” Lily said, which didn’t answer his question and wasn’t much of an explanation. And then he heard Toast shouting at her to come back to the table and she hurriedly said goodbye, claiming that she still got important business .
“Important business, my ass,” he grumbled under his breath. He knew they were playing mahjong.
And so, he spent the entire week moping, taking out his target of the week, and cleaning his workspace with misery in every step. In his defense, his workspace looked awesome—menacing, mysterious, and dangerous. It was perfect for his job; Emma was just a jealous gremlin because all her work was contained in a fucking electronic box.
He also made sure to let Lily know how displeased he was about sharing his space with some cousin she had. He didn’t even know if putting two criminals together in one small space was the wisest decision. He took careful time each day leading to the arrival of the cousin to curse out the brat in every language he knew. He practiced the bitchiest glare he could muster since he didn’t want to show his face to the guy. Maybe whip out a gun or two.
When the doorbell rang a week later, Corpse was ready with multiple threats and a concealed gun ready at his disposal. Until he actually opened the door and met the cousin, that was.
“H-hello,” an absolutely gorgeous man at the front door said, an awkward smile and melodious voice destroying Corpse’s previous plan in less than a heartbeat. “Uh, is this—Lily told me I can stay here for a while?”
Corpse was well aware that he was staring blatantly, but it was harder than he thought to snap out of the trance. He quickly took in what he could get from the man, out of habit. Slightly taller than him, lean with wiry muscles, had a painfully guarded body language, couldn’t look Corpse straight in the eye, looked like a fucking fae with his fluffy tufts of hair and soft brown eyes. He would call Lily and shout at her for four hours straight because why the fuck would she put an innocent little lamb with him? Was this some sort of torture, a secret revenge? Was this because he kept her up that one night to talk about their lord and savior, Bingus?
But then again, this was Lily’s cousin. There must have been something about him that was not quite right in the head. Insanity ran in the family, he heard. But aside from several piercing holes on his ears, and the strange stillness he had about him, he couldn’t sense or see anything dangerous. His instincts didn’t flare up the way it usually did in the presence of another predator. This man’s presence was overwhelmingly underwhelming. Even Lily put him on edge with how well she carried the front of the unassuming, harmless girl the first time they met. This man might be doing the same, but either he was an absolute pro at it that he was undetected or Corpse was reading too much into this because he really didn’t radiate any threat whatsoever.
Lily did say that his cousin was a sweet kid, and oh, how it was true. He sighed and stepped back a little to let the man in. Maybe Toast suggested this because he seemed to absolutely hate Corpse’s gut for some reason. An exquisite torture of some sort. He had to keep his job away from this guy, and no doubt behave in the best possible way because Lily would deck him if he didn’t. Hard to be resentful when the guy gave him the sweetest little smile in the history of smiles, though.
“That’s your room,” he said, pointing to his previous workspace. He reigned in a flare of irritation and amusement when the guy’s eyes widened at his voice. They were so round in surprise. Absolutely adorable, 10/10 would put it on the same level with Bingus. Maybe a little bit lower since he was obviously biased.
“Thank you,” the man said, and quickly deposited his suitcase and backpack inside the room.
Corpse peered outside and raised his eyebrows. That was a lot of boxes. “You want some help?” he said, tilting his head to the direction of the boxes, and watched in amusement as the guy’s eyes widened again before a flush and shy smile replaced the awe.
“If you don’t mind,” he said with a little shrug. Oh god, he seemed like a gentle, kind pushover who talked to his plants in the morning. Oh god, Lily would flay Corpse alive if she saw even one strand of hair out of place on this guy.
He tried to banish the miserable thoughts by taking the nearest boxes and stacked two of them on his arms. They were heavier than he thought. What did this guy bring anyway? Bombs? Guns? Collection of plushies? He didn’t seem like an extravagant guy. He dressed in muted, calm color and simple design. He braced his shoulders each time they talked, and he seemed to withdraw into himself whenever he moved. Like he desperately tried to stay as a wallflower so people wouldn’t even notice him in the room. He was doing a terrible job at it, with Corpse at least. The cut of his cheekbones and the curve of his smile were distracting enough as they were. Emma would die laughing if she ever found out he was smitten at the first sight with this sweet boy. No, she definitely would. She would heave in breaths between her laughter with difficulty, and eventually she’d suffocate herself from the lack of oxygen. People had died from laughter before, he read it somewhere on Wikipedia before. He would bury her in the place she hated the most just to be petty.
He didn’t say anything to the guy though, afraid he’d scare him away with his train of thoughts. As soon as all the boxes were safely deposited inside the spare bedroom—his ex-workspace—they both stood around awkwardly, not looking at each other’s eyes. Eventually, the guy couldn’t take it and opened his mouth a few times, closing it again, opened it again, and choked out a, “What’s, uh, what’s your name?”
His voice cracked in the middle of it and Corpse unsuccessfully stifled his surprised chuckle. He wasn’t usually this juvenile in his humor, but today was full of surprises at it seemed. The guy looked away, embarrassed, so Corpse straightened himself and pretended that he was an upstanding citizen with a good moral compass. Unfortunately, his upstanding moral standing decided that being an asshole was the way to go. “What’s yours?” he asked back, complete with a raised eyebrow and amusement that he couldn’t conceal in his eyes.
The guy frowned a little, but it was quickly smoothened out in less than a second. If Corpse wasn’t so trained, he probably wouldn’t notice it. He had impressive control of his face muscles, it seemed. “Uh, Sykkuno.”
That was a codename. He knew something must be up with this guy. “Cool name,” he said, because he didn’t judge. He willingly called himself Corpse, after all.
The guy rubbed the back of his neck, mulling over something for a second. “I don’t use my real name anymore,” he said then, and there was a tinge of melancholy in his voice.
Corpse backed the fuck off from the dangerous territory. Lily was a dangerous woman when she wanted to be. Prying into Sykkuno’s personal life was a step closer to Corpse’s head hung on the gallows. He nodded, because he understood the sentiment. “Hey, it’s cool. You don’t have to explain anything if you’re not comfortable with it. I don’t use my real name either.”
Sykkuno peered at him from beneath his fringe. He assessed Corpse for a moment, before nodding, a small smile already back on his lips. “What’s yours then?”
He considered lying. Sykkuno didn’t look, and feel, like someone who worked in the same vein that Corpse and Lily did. But there was always a possibility that he had heard of him. Although to find out about his name, Sykkuno had to be pretty engaged with the higher ladder in the underground scene—which was an unlikely possibility at this moment. Besides, the whole Cartel called him Corpse and this was Lily’s cousin; she probably told him already.
No, it was a lie. It was just hard to not immediately answer with the truth in the face of Sykkuno’s seeking eyes. He felt like he might be weighed down by the guilt if Sykkuno found out he was lying since the get go and gave him a disappointed face. Which was ridiculous since Corpse protected himself from prying eyes either by lying or killing.
He sighed. He read too much into this. “I’m Corpse,” he said, because Sykkuno probably would think that he was some sort of edgelord instead of an enforcer who did dirty jobs for the Cartel.
Sykkuno blinked several times, disbelief in his face as Corpse as expected. He didn’t say anything about it however. A sweet kid, indeed. “Okay,” he said instead, and extended his hand with a pretty smile that reminded Corpse of a sunny morning without work. “It’s nice to meet you, Corpse.”
He took the hand a tad slower, surprised at finding the calluses on Sykkuno’s palm and how firm his grip was. The handshake was warm and brief. Corpse nodded at him, “Likewise, Sykkuno.”
Sykkuno gave him one last smile and loosened the grip to pull his hand back. Corpse still felt the rough palm against his own, the feel of slender fingers between his. They went back to standing awkwardly in the room, and Corpse thought he wasn’t capable of being this painfully awkward anymore around strangers. Generally, he just stood there and looked murderous.
“Do you, uh,” he started, already thinking that it was a foolish idea. “Do you want some help with unpacking too?”
Sykkuno looked surprised, a little bit pleased, but he shook his head nonetheless. “It’s okay, I can do it. Thank you for offering, though, Corpse.”
“Yeah,” he said, nodding his head several times in slow motion as he started to back up towards the door. He looked very much like he was trying to run away from embarrassment. Of course Sykkuno would like to unpack things himself. They met for all of ten minutes, and these were his private belongings. He wouldn’t want a stranger like Corpse to sift through them. “Yeah, uh. I’ll be—I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”
“Okay, Corpse,” Sykkuno said, a gentle smile on his face that washed over Corpse’s embarrassment for being so bold. He seemed genuine enough in his reassurance that he didn’t feel too bad about it.
He nodded one last time, hovered a few seconds longer, before giving Sykkuno an awkward smile that he then realized the guy couldn’t see anyway, and very calmly walked out of the room. The door closed behind him softly, a click of lock, and Corpse heaved out a deep sigh. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and started texting away to Lily.
You won, I apologize for constantly rambling about Bingus to you. Please, take him back.
Lily replied a few seconds later. She was probably waiting for his text. He could hear her ringing laughter from miles away. The sadist only replied to him with a smiley face. He went to his room and flopped on his bed face first. Not only that he had to put up with his awesome workspace being removed, he now also had to live with someone who could make him all flustered and awkward like he hadn’t been for years . If he got out of this alive, he would make sure to worship the very ground Lily walked on. If he didn’t—well, Sykkuno’s gentle smile was more than enough to make up for it, at the very least.
-
Sykkuno, as he expected, was painfully, painfully polite and endlessly kind and Corpse was about to scream on the top of his lungs or just jump out of the kitchen window. He tried his best to make small talks with Corpse, although he stuttered and stumbled between his words. He didn’t pry when Corpse didn’t elaborate on some answers, and was terrifyingly good at reading the atmosphere and Corpse’s body language that he went back to entertaining the possibility that Sykkuno was sent by Lily just for the sole purpose of torturing him. Corpse was horrified to find out that he responded so quickly to Sykkuno the way he never did to other people.
Was it the pretty eyes? Was it the cheekbones, he wondered? Or was it just the fact that Corpse was a pathetic guy whose social circle consisted exclusively of assholes and crackheads with too much power on their hands. So to have someone on the extreme end of the spectrum was messing pretty hard with his head. Not to mention how fucking pretty and adorable Sykkuno was—bundled up in his sweaters and waddling around the apartment when he wasn’t holed up in his room. He seemed to be more comfortable in clothes that covered him entirely, because that one time Corpse came home and saw Sykkuno with a short-sleeved t-shirt for the first time, he squeaked and nearly fell from his chair. He figured that Sykkuno was self-conscious about his body, and averted his eyes, greeted him quickly and went into his room with his heart pounding harder than when he was breaking people’s necks an hour ago.
And so, because of that, Corpse now started to knock on the front door, of his own apartment for fuck’s sake. He prayed to whichever god that still listened that Emma would never, ever find out about this, or Corpse would be haunted by her gremlin laughter for the rest of his life. Emma would raze him to the ground and Corpse could do nothing but accept it because he was weak to cute boys with soft brown eyes and pretty smiles, it seemed. Oh, how the turns have tabled.
Sykkuno worked as a programmer, it turned out. He got this whole setup that one time Corpse peeked into his room when he asked if Sykkuno wanted some tacos. He wanted to stall just so he could see the entirety of the room, since the man never let him in after the first time. But then Sykkuno grinned so adorably and nodded with such enthusiasm that every thought that wasn’t providing as much tacos as possible for him flew out of his mind just like that one businesswoman that he threw out of her fancy apartment window on the twentieth floor. Both his sanity and the businesswoman commiserated in their gruesome, horrible death.
When he wasn’t working on his computer, or his laptop on the rare time he brought his work to the living room, he played games. Corpse heard him talking alone in his room, occasionally laughing, and screaming at whatever was on his screen. He wanted to be annoyed, because Sykkuno tended to be noisy when he was playing games, most probably since he was wearing earphones and didn’t know how loud he was. But he just couldn’t . He was endeared by the laughter, by the surprised and panicked shouts, and the way Sykkuno pronounced people’s names and some things wrong. He pronounced cologne as colog-nay and fuck if that wasn’t the most weirdly adorable shit Corpse had ever heard in his life.
He went out sometimes. On some days he didn’t go home, and Corpse would sigh and definitely didn’t mope around the apartment because Sykkuno wasn’t there to talk about whatever mundane things he had in mind that day. Or just him watching the television studiously while Corpse tried very hard not to stare. Sykkuno had this almost blank stare when he was focused on something and it painted a different picture than he usually looked like. He looked older, firmer, someone who was on the same caliber as Lily. He wasn’t as guarded, legs sprawling and arm loosely draped on his thigh. He looked more at ease and Corpse wondered if this was how he looked in the privacy of his own room.
In all honesty, Corpse would always put the possibility that Sykkuno wasn’t who he said he was on the back of his mind. Hard not to be constantly vigilant with his kind of work, even if he was more relaxed around Sykkuno than he thought he would be. Even he didn’t loosen his guards around Emma as quickly as he did with this man—but to be fair, that was because they started trading insults from the moment they met and Corpse found out that Emma was as capable to be an enforcer as she was a specialist.
And yet, despite the suspicion, nothing Sykkuno did seemed to be less than genuine. He smiled with his whole body, covered his mouth whenever he laughed, talked to Corpse with a voice so soft and full of consideration. He didn’t understand what Corpse was talking about most of the time, because apparently Sykkuno might be a tech-wiz but he was also an old man who didn’t catch up with the trend. It was always hilarious to hear him saying things he didn’t quite understand out loud just to accommodate Corpse’s lingo. He laughed himself sick that time Sykkuno said, “Oh, it’s uh- pog , as the youngsters say nowadays.”
Sykkuno was only five years older than him, almost in his thirties but he wasn’t that old yet. But he spoke like a ninety-five-year-old or something with the way he tested new words on his tongue and stiffly tried to use them on every opportunity he could the first two weeks he learned about them. Corpse was, once again, endeared. He tried to teach him every single ridiculous thing he found on the internet, and patiently trained him into the psychedelic world of gen z humor. So far, he didn’t succeed quite as much, but Sykkuno’s confused laughter was more than enough for him. Besides, he got to discover that Sykkuno actually had a pretty dark sense of humor even if he apologized profusely right after he made the joke. It was both alarming and hilarious. He might unearth the gremlin deep inside Sykkuno’s fragile bones one day. Corpse just hoped that Emma didn’t meet this pretty man and whisked him away on the journey of the Gremlin’s Great Destiny.
They hadn’t even lived together for longer than three months and Corpse can pretty much conclude that he was fucked. He tried to bribe Lily into moving either him or Sykkuno out of the apartment, but she just raised her delicate eyebrows at him.
“You don’t mean that,” she said.
“No, I don’t,” Corpse replied instantly, nodding and looking miserable all the same. He wanted Sykkuno to stay there forever, but then again he was going to lose his mind if he had to deal with anymore gentle smiles in the morning and lovingly prepared frozen food that Sykkuno called breakfast.
Lily stared at him for a moment before she started laughing hysterically, right in front of his salad. No, he was literally eating salad and he was pretty sure some of her spit got into it. He wisely pushed the bowl of salad away and sighed, rubbing the bunny mask he usually wore at work. He had never revealed his face to Sykkuno this far, and the man seemed to understand his reluctance to do so. He respected Corpse’s boundaries the way that Corpse accommodated Sykkuno’s own privacy. He was just— so nice . Corpse was going to sob into his spit-flavored salad in the next thirty seconds if Lily didn’t stop laughing at his woes.
“Oh, Corpse,” Lily crooned in her sweet voice. “Oh, you’re down so bad,” she said, and faltered into her laughter once again.
Corpse would personally lead a riot against her one of these days. He could, but after careful consideration of Sykkuno’s feelings, good payment, secure job place, comfortable accommodation, and Michael Reeves, he decided to withhold the plan for the unforeseeable future. Instead, he flopped his head onto the wooden table; the ear of his mask flopping sadly with him.
“I can’t stand him,” he said, and meant it in the best way possible. Or, the worst possible ways for his heart since he was suffering .
“He’s too much for your cold, rotten heart?” Lily teased.
“He’s gonna run screaming and call me a creep if he found out I was thoroughly charmed since the start,” he said, injecting as much sadness into his voice as possible. “Or that I want to hold his hand while we watch movies, or serenade his terrible clothing style.”
“You’re right, that’s kinda creepy considering you’ve lived with him only for a short amount of time this far,” the Capo said, not unkindly. “But he won’t run away. Not immediately, at least. Take it slow, he’ll only bolt away if you rush it.”
Corpse lifted his head to stare at her lovely face. “You say that as if he’ll like me back. I don’t even know if he’s into guys.”
Lily smiled then. Something gentle, something Corpse couldn’t quite figure out. “Do you?”
“Do I what? To which question are you referring to?”
“Both,” she shrugged.
He thought about it. It really was quite rushed of him to claim that he liked Sykkuno. He was charmed, yes. But what if that was only temporary infatuation because Sykkuno was a breath of fresh air to his bloody nighttime activities? He did like him enough as a housemate and someone to talk to.
In the end, he just settled with, “Maybe, and not really. Never thought about it until Sykkuno, I guess.”
And he didn’t lie, either. There was just something about Sykkuno’s personality and mannerism that drove him mad with urges to hug or hold his hand. He was just a ball of sunshine in Corpse’s deliberately edgy life, and he wanted to pet Sykkuno’s hair until he fell asleep on his lap. He didn’t really think about liking someone since he never got the time. Between building a cult of Bingus Follower, working on his music, and killing people left and right, he didn’t quite have the opportunity to consider anything more romantic than finding the most appealing person in the club and taking them to a hotel for a quick fuck.
“Besides,” he continued, “it’ll be bad if he’s involved with me anyways.”
Lily leaned back on her chair, tilting her head side to side as if she was considering something. “He’s my cousin. He’ll be guaranteed safety even if he’s involved.”
Yeah, that was one thing he wanted to know too. “He’s not in the Cartel?”
“Mm, not quite,” she said noncommittally. That wasn’t a fucking answer and she was deflecting. Corpse was right in keeping his possibilities open about Sykkuno. “But he doesn’t know about your identity here. Even if you’re stupid enough to introduce yourself with your codename.”
Lily had lectured him long and thoroughly about it, just to give him shits than actual reprimand. Because he knew that if Sykkuno didn’t know about him, then it was pretty safe to do it as long as he didn’t give him the full alias. There were a lot of people who called themselves weird names, Sykkuno himself included. He also had a sinking feeling that Sykkuno saw him more as a rebellious teenager than an actual adult, and it made Corpse’s name excusable in his eyes. Hard to argue when they contrasted so starkly in their behavior. At least when they were in the house. He had no idea how Sykkuno was around his own friends, at his workplace.
“You’re so vindictive,” he said, narrowing his eyes.
“It runs in the family,” Lily said, then smiled ominously. “So beware.”
He sat straighter at that. “What,” he said. “What does that mean?”
Lily stood up and grinned like a witch at him. “Go choke some people for me, Corpse,” she said instead, and left him a stack of folders on the table.
He stared at her retreating back, feeling a creeping sense of horror on his spine. “What the fuck does that mean?!” he said out loud to no one, just the tiniest bit hysterical. Oh god, oh fuck, he was about to be found dead in his own bed by Sykkuno’s pretty, calloused fingers.
Which was how he found himself putting Sykkuno under intense scrutiny for the next two months, searching for any sign of gremlin-like quality. He noticed then that once he got past the shyness, Sykkuno spoke fluent sarcasm and beautifully concealed insults. It went hand in hand with his aforementioned taste in humor, and Corpse was just equally excited as he was horrified to see Sykkuno saying the most damning shit at the weirdest time, with a completely straight face, that he then soothed over with apologies and nervous smiles. He must have been really good at poker, with his wildly jumping emotions.
For the most part, Sykkuno endured Corpse watching him like a hawk. He just sat there with a polite, confused expression on his face when they happened to be in the same room, and Corpse tried his best to bore holes into the side of Sykkuno’s head. Maybe if he stared long enough, he’d find out what mysteries he hid beneath his fluffy tufts.
Sadly, that wasn’t the case. Because all he could garner was that Sykkuno looked even prettier up close. He wore thin makeup, and he was ridiculously good at shaping his eyebrows. He didn’t ask why Sykkuno wore makeup all the time inside the house, even so early in the morning. Corpse put on eyeliner and painted his nails because he liked the way they looked on him. He assumed Sykkuno’s reasoning would be along the same vein. If it wasn’t, then it was still not his motherfucking business. Just because Corpse wanted to know more about him, didn’t mean that he’d overstep his boundaries without consent.
He got Sykkuno to play card games with him, and learned that he was simultaneously amazing and shitty at it. He trolled around and didn’t focus on the actual game, but he managed to wipe the floor with Corpse’s ass anyway. Sometimes he did the strangest shits that could jeopardize his victory, and claimed that it was all part of his ‘genius strategy’. When it did work, though, he looked just as surprised as Corpse was—every single time.
“Jesus!” he laughed, covering his mouth as his eyes crinkled and his shoulders shook. “It works! It actually works! I’m a genius, Corpse!”
And Corpse would be trapped in the trance of watching Sykkuno again, smiling automatically as the man rode out the last bouts of his laughter. He definitely didn’t want to play betting poker with him, though. This man was far too lucky and wildly unpredictable. Maybe this was what lay underneath his shy, gentle persona. Someone who was insane enough to live with the fact that his cousin was part of the most feared mafia family in town, who agreed to live with a stranger that may or may not be a killer, who doubled so confidently when the cards he was dealt with were horribly bad—and still won. Maybe it wasn’t something so sinister as opposed to a bone-deep, easy going mindset that made him open to even the weirdest things imaginable.
Corpse was definitely reading too much into this. He should just learn to accept that Sykkuno was someone who could be a polite, gentle fae and the wildest jester at the same time, and that it doesn’t necessarily have to be traced back to the Cartel. He should just learn to accept that Sykkuno was terribly easy to like, and that was alright. There was no need for a concrete reason why he felt that way, he should just learn to feel it.
He once screamed at Emma when they had a mission together, when they were chased by the enforcement of their target and Corpse took her hand to jump through the tenth floor.
“You’re fucking crazy!” Emma screeched, hysterical and angry. “We’re gonna die, you absolute, first rate idiot!”
Corpse barricaded the door behind them, and they skidded to a halt near the window. “Shut the fuck up! We won’t. Maybe. I’m not sure.”
“What do you mean ‘ I’m not sure ’?!” she shouted, gun at the ready while a violent ruckus was heard behind them. Despite her complaint, she still allowed Corpse to pull her onto the ledge.
It was dark down there, and Emma was gripping his arm with sharp nails. “On three,” he said, and jumped immediately no later than the word ‘one’ could leave her lips.
“We’re gonna die!” she repeated, unbelievably ugly when the wind messed up her impeccable hair. “This is the fucking tenth floor!”
“I’m living dangerously!” he shouted back, and laughed freely when Emma’s eyes bulged out in a nasty glare.
“I’ll fucking kill you if we survive! Corpse, you stupid jerk!” she shrieked, clutching at him so tight as they freefall through the dark of the night.
They, of course, survived. There was a pool down below, Corpse remembered that. He just didn’t know if the trajectory would plunge them into the water, or straight to the side of the pool and splat themselves into a pulp. Emma gave him a black eye when he told her that afterwards.
Despite his claim that night with Emma, however, developing feelings for Sykkuno felt even more dangerous than any mission he had ever done, more dangerous than gambling away his life on a freefall. But maybe exactly because of that, he found himself not doing anything to stop the velocity of the fall once it started. He couldn’t see anything down there, how long he was going to fall, if he was going to land safely or shattered into pieces, but he was willing to take the gamble once again.
At the end of the two-month long scrutiny, Sykkuno finally smiled at him and asked, “What are you doing, Corpse?”
He didn’t quite know how to answer that. Not because he didn’t understand what he was referring to, but because Sykkuno looked unbelievably soft in the harsh kitchen light and he couldn’t be expected to have the full capacity of his common sense up and running in front of that . His brain just decided that it was going to permanently turn into a pathetic pile of mush in Sykkuno’s presence. He nearly said, “Oh, nothing, just admiring the view,” complete with totally suave expression, and the suggestive eyebrow lift. But it was fucking creepy now that he thought about that.
So, he settled with honesty instead. “Trying to get to know you,” he said, sounding ridiculous now that it was already out in the open air. Who the fuck tried to get to know someone by staring at them like they were about to plan some murder? Not Corpse, absolutely.
Sykkuno didn’t laugh however, he just nodded and passed over the plate of grilled cheese to Corpse. “Alright,” he said, placating and frustratingly agreeable. “Next time you can actually ask, you know?”
“Oh,” Corpse breathed out. He didn’t know what he expected beforehand. Maybe some screaming and fear and Sykkuno’s express request to get the fuck outta the apartment. But not an easy acceptance that made his stomach tie up in knots, and something dangerous flutter in the crib of his chest. He was going to go find Emma and tell her to stab his eyes or something. “Oh- yeah, yeah. I- okay? I mean, thank you.”
The man chuckled and nodded. He sat in front of Corpse, talking about finally sending his plants to the apartment. And Corpse felt ridiculously pleased that his initial assessment that Sykkuno would be the type to have plants, talk to them lovingly each morning, and treat them like an extension of his life, was right. He wondered if that would make him even more smitten to this unbelievable man, or just straight up make Corpse google how to be a plant, with pictures and detailed instruction—no hack, no roots.
He hesitated for a moment, testing words inside his mind, before he finally managed to say, “So… what’s your favorite bird?”
Sykkuno blinked a few times, before he laughed. The laughter was warm, kinda sounded like a chicken, but it was pleasant to hear nonetheless. He thought that Lily was right—but of course she was. Sykkuno wasn’t going to run away, and Corpse could still do this. He could take it slow, he could allow himself to be as dramatically whipped to this guy as possible, because that was just his life right now. It wasn’t a bad life, though.
-
Despite his religious belief in frozen and fast food, Sykkuno was meticulously selective when it came to his coffee. He had this fancy brewer that he treated with such care that Corpse sometimes glared at it in Sykkuno’s absence, a whole selection of coffee beans, along with annoyingly good cream and sugar to boot. The man was the type of cliché that could not operate properly in the morning without his second cup of coffee. Corpse actually didn’t know how he lived as long as he did considering his diet and caffeine intake. He would flit about in the kitchen several times a day to make coffee, and then take the whole jug to his room on most nights. Sykkuno was living even more dangerously than Corpse was. He didn’t know whether he should be in awe or fear for the man’s health.
Corpse had never eaten in front of him, but Sykkuno never seemed to be bothered that he was the only one eating even if they both were at the table. He still made Corpse his share of food and made him coffee that admittedly tasted like the embodiment of heaven. It was really fortunate that Sykkuno was never present when Corpse drank his coffee, because he would just witness Corpse nearly sobbing from the absolute wonder of it. On some occasions, he would admit to crooning and whispering compliments to his cup of coffee.
There was something soothing about watching Sykkuno preparing his coffee, only half-awake and still warm from sleep. His lips would be in this perpetual pout as he grumbled under his breath about something too low to be heard. His long fingers were moving with precision and familiarity around the kitchen; selecting whichever bean struck him fancy that morning, pouring it into the grinder, rotating the handle with practiced ease. He poured in the exact amount of ground coffee and water for four cups of coffee—one for Corpse and three for him—and flopped to the table as he waited for the brewer to finish.
“Do you think it’s illegal to chase a police car and accuse them of robbing a bank as the ultimate Uno reverse card?” he asked one morning, hiding his yawn in the crook of his arm.
Corpse absolutely didn’t want to know if that was a genuinely hypothetical question, something from his games, or just his own experience. None of the options would give any illusion of sanity to Sykkuno’s inquiry, however. That was another thing that Corpse learned to accept; that as much as Corpse said weird shit out loud, Sykkuno would say even weirder shit when he least expected it. There was one time he just came home, only to be immediately welcomed by Sykkuno shouting ‘ She’s a kid! Beat her up! ’ from inside his room.
“I think it’s an absolutely pog move,” he replied, and smiled from behind his mask when Sykkuno’s eyes lit up as he recognized the word. “But maybe bring a megaphone so you don’t have to scream constantly.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sykkuno said warmly, “thanks, Corpse.”
They had lived together for more than six months then. His infatuation was persistent and Corpse had woken Emma up at two in the morning on her day off to hyperventilate about his feelings.
“Oh god ,” he sobbed, and he could hear Emma rustling on the other side, imagining her immediately snapping to attention and ready for an abrupt emergency situation. He had to admit, this wasn’t the emergency she was probably thinking about, but this was an emergency alright. He should have called 911 along, in case he didn’t make it through the memory of Sykkuno’s absolutely, devastatingly adorable laugh that he forgot to cover one time.
“Corpse?” she asked, fear and worry starting to climb into her voice. “Corpse, what happened?”
He didn’t answer for a moment, mourning his peaceful life and last shred of sanity that went down the drain this evening. Sykkuno was hurriedly leaving for an emergency meeting, and he took one of Corpse’s hoodies from the stack of clean clothes on the hamper. He just realized when he finished putting it on, and noticed that it was bigger than his usual size. Corpse just stood there, a deer in headlights as his head was blaring sirens, while Sykkuno apologized profusely. When he was about to take it off, however, Corpse’s stupid lizard brain decided to kick in and he blurted out, “Don’t. It looks good on you.”
Despite his earlier statement of being almost late, Sykkuno sure took his sweet time standing there, face dusted with pretty blush and gaping a little. Corpse swallowed with difficulty, screaming terror inside his head. Oh fuck, was he too bold? Was that too creepy? Sykkuno used his mug sometimes so this shouldn’t be that different right? Right?
He was about to kneel on Sykkuno’s feet and ask for forgiveness, and to please not tell Lily about this because she’d give him shit about it non-stop. Maybe he’d move to the countryside and be a farmer, name himself Crops and chase kids off his lawn, wallowing in his embarrassment and regret over his chronic crush and how it made him even more impulsively creepy. There was no helping him anymore, he was doomed.
“I can’t—Emma, I can’t,” he said, voice rough and full of emotions. Gods, he hoped Sykkuno’s pillow would always be cold on both sides. The man deserved it for being an angel.
Because instead of looking at Corpse with absolute disgust, he just smiled so, so prettily and said, “Thanks, Corpse. I’ll see you later, okay? Bye-bye!” and was gone before Corpse could snap out of the impromptu coma Sykkuno had sent him into. He was left staring at the pile of fresh laundry, despairingly whipped and about to find a list of Sykkuno’s enemies because Corpse was committed now.
“He—“ he sighed, then got choked up in his feelings. “He’s too much, Emma. I can’t. What the fuck do I do now? He’s killing me.”
“What?!” There was more rustling, and he heard the clack of her boots. She must be putting them on. What a nice little gremlin. “ Where are you? Are you hurt? Did they intrude your house?”
“Oh, he can intrude my room just fine, alright,” he said, because he’d allow it. Sykkuno can intrude his bed just fine if he wants to. “I’m wounded, Emma. I don’t think I can recover. I’m dying.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. He could see suspicion starting to form in Emma’s head. “Corpse, what the fuck are you on about? Are you dying or not? Who the fuck are you talking about? If you keep talking nonsense, I will go there and shoot your head open.”
“Why are you so violent?” he whined. “Sykkuno is never violent with me. Except for the part where he’s killing me. With his smiles, his laughter—oh god, Emma, he looks fucking cute when he laughs, he sounds like he’s about to lose it everytime, too. I can’t stand this anymore, I’m in agony .”
“What,” she said, flatly. Then, she grunted and Corpse could almost hear the gears clicking into place. “You disgusting liar, you disgraceful cockroach —is this about your housemate ?! Oh my fucking god. And here I am, about to care for your annoying ass.”
“Hey! I’m a delight, according to Sykkuno,” he protested. “And I don’t lie!” he said, feigning hurt. “I can’t do this anymore. Fuck, Emma, he looked perfect in my clothes, I’m five seconds away from crying.”
“God, save me from dramatic bitches and their crushes,” she growled. “I hate you so much.”
“No, you don’t,” he said, feeling confident. And then less confident because Emma was an absolute menace when she was pissed off. Maybe he shouldn’t aggravate her so much. “Seriously, I don’t know what the fuck I should do. Lily said to take it slow, so I did. But he’s not getting any hints.”
“Is it Sykkuno who’s not getting any hints, or is it you who can’t give proper hints because you’re a constipated asshole when it comes to romance?” she guessed correctly, not giving him even a sliver of mercy.
“Fuck you,” he said, because Emma was always right. “It’s not like I’ve ever dated anyone.”
“Exactly,” she sighed. “You’re shit at this. He’s probably wondering why you’re staring at him like a creep and constipating whenever you try to flirt with him.”
Sykkuno was indeed a sweet kid, just like what Lily said. But he was also dense as fuck. And he did have to admit that he wasn’t doing a good job at flirting with him. All he did was swoon over Sykkuno, stare at him like he hung the moon, ask him about his day, give him stuttered compliments whenever Sykkuno’s insecurities slipped into the conversation, and give him whatever he wanted even if he only mentioned it once. Now that he thought about it, what with his brooding demeanor and rough voice and sharp eyes, it probably didn’t come across the way he wanted it to be. Easy to misunderstand his intention when Corpse looked exactly every part of a killer, and Sykkuno was too kind and shy to even comprehend that someone was trying to woo him.
He sighed, and Emma sighed with him. “I’m fucked.”
“Well, if that’s your preference,” Emma replied easily. “I can’t believe I fucking woke up for this. I was so ready to defend your life, bitch.”
“I don’t wanna live anymore,” he said, sighing again for the thousandth time that night. “I just wanna shrivel up and be Sykkuno’s coffee brewer. Or his plants. Whichever. He loves them so much, I think he’s gonna go feral if someone touches them. I don’t think I mind seeing him like that. It’ll be absolutely glorious, except that he’s also gonna be distressed and I don’t want that.”
There was a light thump as Emma was likely lying back to her bed, regretting her life choices that led her into befriending Corpse. “You’re pathetic,” she told him gently. “Buy him some plants or coffee beans. Take him out for lunch or dinner. Actually compliment him properly instead of screaming about how cute he is inside your head. Don’t die before you can profess your undying love, and if you call me in the middle of the night for this fucking bullshit again, I’ll start a manhunt for your soul.”
He listened and believed every single one of her threats, mostly because she was capable of carrying them out. “Wow, I will kill the president for you.”
“I can do that myself, but thanks,” he could hear the smile in her voice now. “I still think your ‘workspace’ is shit.”
“Fuck you. Heartless bitch.”
But he took her suggestion to heart. When Sykkuno was back, looking tired and satisfied, a glint in his eyes that for some reason made Corpse’s instinct flare to life, he greeted him and asked if he wanted something for breakfast. Corpse couldn’t cook for shit. Sykkuno was only slightly better at it. But there was the wonder of takeout and online delivery.
“Mm,” the man sighed, comfortably snuggling into the couch with one of his plushies. That was another thing Corpse got right. Sykkuno had plushies, a whole barrage of them. He didn’t see it himself, but Sykkuno showed him pictures of his collection, and some of them had migrated into the living room as well. “Maybe some waffles. A lot of whipped cream, strawberries? We can order from the coffee shop nearby. Uh, some coffee?”
“You mean three cups of coffee?” he teased, but whipped out his phone to order some waffles anyway. He stopped then. “Do you wanna order some coffee or do you wanna make some?”
Sykkuno flopped—there was no other word to describe it, he just slowly, lazily flopped onto his stomach like a boneless seal—and smiled softly at him. Like he was deciding something, and it pleased him a lot. It sent a pleasant jolt to Corpse’s chest. “I was thinking, maybe you can make the coffee?”
Corpse suddenly had an out-of-the-body experience right there and then. He thought back to what he said last night. How Sykkuno probably wouldn’t allow anyone to touch his coffee brewer and plants, and here he was, allowing Corpse to do just that. Was it too soon to pick the rings?
“Oh,” he breathed out. “Okay- okay. Which- which one would you like today?”
They moved to the kitchen, and it was kind of weird to be the one standing over the brewer while Sykkuno sleepily watched him. He was still wearing Corpse’s hoodie, and it wasn’t making the situation any better. He wanted to scream and bite his fist, but he just set to work after making sure he got their address right on the delivery app. He remembered Sykkuno’s movement, and even if his were a lot stiffer and stilted than Sykkuno’s, the man didn’t say anything.
He gave Sykkuno the coffee in his mug, feeling daring and bold. He was committed to this now. No take backs, no cold feet. He waited with nervous anticipation as Sykkuno sipped his hot coffee like it was a cold juice in the middle of a sunny day, wondered how the hell he hadn’t burned his tongue yet, and let out a relieved sigh when the man smiled.
“Too much water,” he said then, and Corpse’s face fell. It must have shown in his eyes, because Sykkuno laughed and reached over to pat his back. “You can practice more.”
Corpse took a second longer to realize what that meant. “You- you’ll let me do it? It might take me a while to get it right, the way you like it.”
Sykkuno shrugged, downing half of his mug with ease. “We have time. Also, I’ll wash your hoodie real quick, okay? Thanks again for lending me this, Corpse.”
He gulped, thought about it, breathed in and out, and thought about it again. In the end, he said, “You can keep it.”
That stopped Sykkuno. He blinked several times, soft eyes suddenly sharp in the early morning light, and Corpse saw the similarity between Lily and Sykkuno. They both had this searching look that made people apprehensive and nervous, as if they could reach into your mind the gentlest way possible, and leave a devastating wreck behind. He stood still, feeling very much like he was glimpsing into the world of another hunter and wondered not for the first time what Lily really meant when she said that Sykkuno wasn’t quite a part of Comfy Cartel. It wasn’t an exact confirmation.
Finally, Sykkuno nodded, a sweet smile already in place and Corpse felt like it was safe to move again. “Okay then. Thank you, Corpse.”
Feeling brave, and maybe exhilarated because he had seen something different than the sweet, gentle Sykkuno, Corpse said, “You can wear any of my clothes, anytime. Or take any of them.”
The man nodded again, and grinned. “Maybe not the underwear, though.”
“Oh- oh, yeah,” he stuttered, horrified to find out that he was about to blush like a teenager. Was it bad that he liked the image of Sykkuno in his clothes, without the underwear, very much? Oh god, he was a teenager. A hormonal teenager. What the fuck. He felt so inappropriate and dirty. Sykkuno just looked so pure and soft, he shouldn’t sully it with his lizard brain.
“What are you thinking?” Sykkuno asked, snapping him out of his daydream.
“The waffles are gonna be fucking soggy when it’s here,” he blurted out.
It startled a laughter out of Sykkuno, spilling some coffee on his chin and on the table, as if that was the last thing he expected from Corpse. It prompted a smile of his own, hidden as it was. Maybe one of these days, he could be comfortable enough to show his face. But right now, he’d just enjoy his morning with Sykkuno and his second cup of coffee, wearing his hoodie, waiting for their inevitably soggy waffles.
It was a peaceful day while the clock was ticking without his knowledge.
-
Corpse had joined the Cartel for nearly a year. He worked alone previously, as a paid grunt. The more he became known throughout the underworld, the more people hired him for specialized works. His work wasn’t refined and meticulous, not in the way Emma’s was, but he was efficient and brutal. It did the job splendidly and he didn’t hear his client complaining. Well, some of them did, but they couldn’t exactly complain anymore if they were dead, could they now?
Lily invited him, and Corpse still remembered the first time they met vividly. There this young woman was, sitting primly with her round glasses and pretty smile. She was small in stature, she put on the appearance of some aspiring new designer with her choice of clothes and hair. She spoke with a voice so soft and kind, and Corpse had never felt so suffocated than when her kind eyes suddenly turned sharp and dangerous as she handed him the card to get into their HQ.
He had heard about the Cartel, of course. It was impossible not to when it was basically the mafia family that had conquered the city in such a quick, brutal grapple of power. They had control over other cities too, and he had heard rumors that one-third of the continent was under their influence. Some said they were originally not from here, that they just came because the next heir to the throne was an ambitious, highly intelligent, and ruthless bastard and he wanted to expand their turf to encompass the whole continent.
Some of the names in the family he recognized from beforehand. Poki was one of the most known intelligence gatherers in the city; if you wanted to know any dirt on anyone, she was the one to go to—with an inappropriately high price, of course. Emma worked with her for a long time, and sometimes Corpse could see the imprint Poki left on one of the few she had under her tutelage.
Ludwig was a locksmith that claimed that he could ‘unlock any door; no proof left, no suspicion’ and he lived up to that claim. He was a humorous man with the most outrageous words just hiding beneath his tongue. He sometimes worked alongside Poki, because he could unlock people’s secrets as good as he unlocked a vault in a highly guarded casino. Corpse met him sometimes on casinos, and took their meeting as a sign to get his job done as soon as possible because even if Ludwig wasn’t breaking into any vault, he was bound to create some ruckus and while it sometimes served as great distraction, he was also drunk most of the time and would loudly call Corpse for some drink when he noticed—and Ludwig, no matter how inebriated he was, always noticed.
There were a lot of names he had heard of, but had never met personally. Rumors spread around, and most of the time, the rumors were deliberately spread for a certain agenda. He had heard of the atrocity and ambitions of these groups, and from his brief interaction with Lily, and how their reputation had preceded even Corpse’s wildest dream, he had expected something of the highest caliber for the new lords of the underworld.
At first, he did get exactly just what he expected. Toast took one look at him, and Corpse already felt like he was being taken apart from the inside. It was only years of experience that made him stand his ground and calm his breathing lest they smelled fear in him, and he’d be torn to pieces then. They told him they had heard of him, too; that they could use his expertise in the Cartel. They offered him more than anyone had ever done. Under the mounting pressure and intimidation that filled every corner of the room, and essentially everything that he could have possibly hope for in his line of work—security, good payment, organized job, crazy powerful people that could make his life exhilarating—he took Toast’s carefully offered hand, and bore the mark of the Cartel a few months later.
Comfy Cartel was everything he had ever heard of, and even more dangerous, even more splendidly chaotic—in the best and worst possible way. They were highly organized and brutally efficient, with top notch individuals on the high rank, and Don Scarra and Toast as the heads of the family. He quickly caught on that the heir he had heard so much of was the very same man that had greeted him the first time he went to their HQ. He could see how the cartel could expand so much in so little time.
Toast was, simply put, terrifying . He was easily one of the most dangerous people Corpse had ever met, and he had met quite a lot. It wasn’t in the physical sense, though he was fantastic with guns, but it was the way he thought, the way he analyzed and planned everything down to the last detail. He could predict where and when to strike, knew how to read people like an open book, knew how to taunt and to pressure them, and he was almost always right in his decision and prediction. He understood how people operated, and that was one of the scariest things that someone could have in their repertoire. He was the puppeteer with a lot of strings across the continent.
Toast was one of the Capos, and he didn’t really interact with him a lot. Corpse was an enforcer after all, he was pretty low on the ladder. He had his own handler, but for some reason, he kept answering to Lily. Maybe it was because she was the one who found him; he never asked, it wasn’t a wise thing to do. So, he did his job, came back to the HQ for some reports with the stench of blood still on his nose, and fingers not quite clean from red yet. They paid him good, gave him a place to stay after they deemed he was worthy of it, and even if there were people who still tried to fuck with him, rumors of his involvement with the Cartel more or less did its job.
People had always been afraid of him, mostly left him alone at bars or casinos. But there were always idiots who came to make trouble, thinking he was an easy pick because he didn’t have any affiliation. He didn’t exactly need the protection of the name, but he could admit that it wasn’t a bad thing. Less idiots approached him nowadays, and Corpse briefly thought that having Comfy Cartel on his back was akin to having a very effective bug repellant. Some still slipped through, however, but Corpse was more than capable of squishing mere bugs under his boots.
He had participated in a few gang fights in his early days. The longer he was there, the more Lily assigned him to highly dangerous missions, and on some occasions, even brought him to a meeting that he knew would inevitably end in a showdown. Lily wasn’t involved in any of them, and Corpse rarely saw any of the higher ranks fight, but he had seen enough. They were people who could survive even on their own, had made a name for themselves before they were chosen into the Cartel, and they could very well kill someone when they had to.
“If his left eye twitches, kill the woman next to him,” Toast told him in one of the meetings. “If he says ‘as if’ more than three times, kill everyone in the room. He got a certain habit and pattern to his speech that alludes to what he’s planning. If he did the second, immediately call for Michael.”
It turned out that Toast already had several spies in the gang’s ranks and had them planted some bombs inside. It was a very loud way of asserting his dominance, and to create even bigger paranoia amongst the gangs in the city. Plant the bomb, plant the seed of doubt; they would be headless chickens trying to find the moles in their ranks, and while it didn’t show much externally, it was enough to weaken them at several points.
“When you know precisely where to strike, you’ll just have to sit back and enjoy the terror in their eyes,” Toast said, smiling calmly as he crossed his legs and waited for the other party to show up.
As the negotiation went on, Corpse was almost pissed that Toast was right. There went the left eye twitch, and the woman was bleeding on the table even before she could pull the safety off the gun. The man was screaming and threatening Toast of violating the agreement of no weapon. But his guards fell to the ground, along with several thumps from outside. Everyone he brought was dead now.
Toast inspected his nails. He had very nice nails. “Did I, now?” he said, and lifted the woman’s corpse slightly to show the gun still on her hold. “Or... did you?”
They got him to sign some documents, and Corpse followed Toast out after they were done. The man, however, was detained by some guys. He looked back to the guy; were they going to kill him? Wasn’t that a bad move now?
“Not yet,” Toast said, as if reading his thoughts. “Our medical team will give him some… ah, parting gifts.”
It meant that they’d plant a chip and an explosive in him; constant surveillance as well as a quick precaution. Not to mention a good way to shake the gang if he were to be detonated right in the middle of his own people. Corpse had heard that it was Michael Reeves’ idea, the strange Capo whose division consisted only of him and a robot dog. He was the genius behind the quick territory expansion, as well as their technology. He was also batshit insane and made the most dangerous, highly unstable inventions that may or may not explode in their own gang members’ faces. He didn’t seem to particularly care about whose side was the victim, as long as someone got to explode from his tech. His inventions also gave a whole new definition to torture, and honestly, Corpse was just kinda happy that he got more variations to work with now.
So, yes, Comfy Cartel lived up to every single one of the rumors and his expectations. Except, for one, horribly humongous catch: they were all fucking crazy.
It wasn’t even the kind of crazy that made people tremble in fear—although they did that too. It was just the fact that these people were so well-respected and feared, very good at doing their jobs, and they were a bunch of monsters who were capable of taking the continent by storm. But on the other hand, they were just—just a whole bunch of fucking idiots . Highly trained criminals, too, but still. Fucking idiots, all of them.
Toast once showed up to a negotiation wearing a Hawaiian shirt and shorts, when the other gang was outraged, he just flapped his hand and went, “It’s not like I don’t know you’re planning to sabotage us. I just wanna say hi before I go on my sweet vacation. Adios bitchachos.” And then he told the enforcers to kill everyone on sight.
Or, the other time Lily played the piano, and Corpse listened attentively while he nursed his wine. Most of the other higher-ups were there; apparently Corpse was allowed to be there because Lily liked him enough. It started out beautiful and melodious, before Lily just went to town with the notes and startled Corpse out of his trance. In less than three seconds, she had started spouting shit like ‘fucking morons who can’t do their jobs right’ and ‘I want to crack their skulls opeeeen’, and everyone was listening without even batting an eyelash. Michael was jamming to it. When Lily started screaming ‘fuck this shit I’m done !’ with her whole chest, Toast wipe an imaginary tear and lifted his glass in solidarity. Corpse could never see her piano performance the same way ever again.
Most of his traumatic experience came from Michael Reeves, as expected. That man looked like a twelve-year-old child, and seemed to be as unhinged as one. Aside from the previous horrors told about him, Corpse could never forget the day he walked in on Michael considering his robot dog with such intensity, it scared him. And rightfully so, because the next thing that came out of his mouth was: “I’ll upgrade this shit so it can pee beer.” Corpse was always wary about any beer offered to him by any of the Capos after the upgrade was done.
Another thing Michael liked to do aside from upgrading his robot dog into an abomination was tazing Lily with every tool imaginable—a lightsaber, a spoon, an intricate tazing chair that looked like a torture chair, by her own piano, everything . The more he climbed up the ladder, the more the higher ranks favored him, the more he witnessed Lily’s shrill screaming whenever Michael ambushed him with whatever taser invention he got his hands on. It would be followed by Lily’s utterly tired, full of disappointed ‘ Michael… ’ while she sighed like she got a particularly wild dog biting her leg for the thirtieth time this month.
The higher ranks were also a fan of avoiding their responsibilities of going into meetings and negotiations with people they didn’t like, and instead set a mahjong table and played beer pong with outrageous bets on the table. Brodin had fantastically inappropriate suggestions for punishments and bet ideas beneath his calm, collected exterior. Corpse later found out that Scarra downed vodka like it was mere water, and he was fucking scary when he was drunk and angry. “Somebody’s going to be abused tonight,” Toast sighed, and flipped open his mahjong tiles. It sounded so wrong and ominous that Corpse slowly inched out of the room and went back home to repaint his nails.
If he thought that most of their antics were kept in the safety of their HQ, he was dead wrong. The first time Corpse saw Michael actually went along on a mission, he didn’t think too much about it. Maybe he just wanted to see if his inventions were working right; a field observation, so to speak. He should have known it was something fishy when Lily was there too, along with Toast and Poki. He finally found out why Michael was there when all the Capos just went to the balcony of the meeting place, and he fucking pulled out a bazooka out of nowhere and started firing fireworks out of it.
Corpse avoided what must be a very nasty left hook and had to get a grip on himself. If he didn’t focus, he was going to get himself killed tonight with a firework in the background. It was fucking hard to do just that when these—these crazy bastards were out there, whistling and shouting like a bunch of high schoolers on a field trip. Yeah, fine, the fireworks were the shit and Corpse had to admit he did stop and stare for a second because they looked so dope, but still . Lily was leaning against Michael when a firework shot and the shape of their family’s insignia was seen. “This is so romantic,” Lily said, while Corpse shot someone’s head open.
Toast, the very same man with terrible reputations and the apparent heir to the seat of Don of Comfy Cartel, just grinned and said, “We need some beer and mahjong.”
“We should bring some next time,” Poki replied, and Corpse wanted to tear his hair out because why the fuck would there be a next time?!
It didn’t just stop there, of course it didn’t. Corpse had come to expect the path with the least sanity when it came to these people. As soon as they were out of the building, cars ready for their getaway, Michael pulled out a detonator from his pocket, the unholiest grin on his youthful face. Before Corpse could even prepare himself, he hit the button with such happiness that it was hard to comprehend that he just blew a whole fucking building, and nearly killed them all if they weren’t far enough from the site. As it was, they just stood back and watched as even more fireworks shot out of the explosion.
He was the picture of unabashed glee and insanity when he turned back to them and spoke with such conviction: “I’m a genius .”
Corpse needed time to recover from that one. Not because of the explosion, since they were all at a safe distance from the exploding building, but because of the realization that hit him like a fuckton of angry bulls, unavoidable and could no longer be dismissed—these people were a bunch of crackheads parading around as criminals.
“ Oh my god ,” Corpse choked out in the privacy of his apartment, free from the insanity that awaited him in the HQ. He couldn’t believe that he, along with the whole fucking continent, was tricked into believing that the Comfy Cartel was this organization to be feared, while the very same people were dancing around in pa’u and doing a horrible imitation of hula dance right under their nose. He was never going to be the same after this. He needed some therapy, a fifty-year vacation, and a fucking refund of his respect because these morons deserved none of it. They had lied to him several times about being busy, and then had the gall to wave at him when he caught them playing strip poker .
He needed to lie down and rethink his life choices. Maybe he should just resign and start a new life, get himself a new alias, actually focus on making music, be a streamer or something. He heard it was the rave these days. He was sure the internet would eat up his edgy, dark aesthetic. Or maybe just turn 180 and get into some paranormal shits, exorcise people for fun or something. Or just sign up with fucking NASA and explore space, maybe meet some aliens on the way. He didn’t know, all these ideas sounded insane and yet they made sense to him now. Maybe the insanity had rubbed off on him. Oh god .
Maybe the cosmic realization broke his brain or something, because try as he might, Corpse still ended up being roped into their crazy antics. As a result, he was less formal with them, and started doing weird shit without fear of his head being cut off in an instant. It took less than a month for Emma and Lily to start calling him an edgelord, and Corpse had no reservation in introducing Bingus to anyone that he had tricked into listening. The crazy really was contagious.
“Stop with the bullshit,” Emma deadpanned. “You’re already bonker in the head to start with. You just hide it better. These people had no inhibition in their DNA.”
Which wasn’t wrong, every part of it. The Comfy Cartel was still the most feared mafia family, and Corpse knew they could make his life a living hell with a flick of their hand. But then again, he also knew that Michael made a pool of fucking disgusting slime that they threw at each other, and there was always going to be a grenade inside one of the secret Santa gifts. The fact that he got so used to it was both horrifying and hilarious. Emma was right. The crazy recognized each other, after all. Maybe that was the actual reason Lily hired him. He wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to be the case.
The knowledge that they were essentially a bunch of twelve-year-olds still didn’t make them any less dangerous, however. It didn’t soften the fact that they were also individuals who had done numerous atrocities, and Corpse was a part of them. Somehow, it made something like pride and loyalty bloom in his chest. These people were crazy fucks, but they treated people who were loyal to them right, and they still had the time to be exciting and hilarious at the same time. Granted, most of the time their humor involved someone else dying or something exploding, but Corpse hadn’t had this kind of fun in years .
He was more or less welcomed to mingle with the high rankers, he still did his job with excellent efficiency and precision, and he was allowed to see things that he knew people in his rank wouldn’t be allowed to see without having their own eyes gouged out with a spoon. Most probably by their own hands while Michael watched, and Lily watched Michael with a Disappointed™ sigh.
Today, however, he might have witnessed something that he wasn’t allowed to yet. Or ever, if Toast had any say in it.
Toast had always been easygoing, with sarcastic quips and inappropriate humor ready under the sharp eyes and insane reflexes. But he was also very unforgiving and every single inch a heartless bastard that had won them miles and miles of territories. Corpse didn’t know why, and when exactly it started, but he noticed that sometimes Toast looked at him with something undecipherable. Something that raised the hair on the back of his neck, and switched his fight-or-flight instinct to life. He wouldn’t say anything, and Corpse wouldn’t move, staying still until Toast blinked and carried on as if nothing happened.
More than once, Corpse had thought that maybe he did something that pissed Toast off. But if that was the case, then he would be long dead already. Still, it made him even more aware that Toast sometimes did something just to make his life more difficult, intentionally. Like telling Michael to give Corpse hot pink guns that in no way would be concealed from enemies’ eyes; or sending Corpse to babysitting missions where he had to sit and listen for hours and hours to young, spoiled heirs and their associates complaining about their miserable life; or, on a more sinister tone, deliberately sending Corpse into difficult missions with people that Toast knew didn’t get along well with him. He was pretty sure that in some of those instances, Toast was entertaining the possibility of Corpse not coming back alive.
He didn’t ask. Because as much as he was familiar with these people now, how much their antics exasperated him, how lenient they were with his own antics, these weren’t his friends and these were still the monsters who could eat him alive. It was never a wise decision to ask something that had no concrete proof, especially to a higher rank.
Tonight, he got a glimpse of confirmation that while it wasn’t hatred that Toast had for Corpse, there was definitely something that he was pissed off about and Corpse was involved unknowingly.
The meeting room was generally used by the Capos, but since Corpse had more or less wormed his way into the ranks unintentionally, he was there several times. There was a lounge just outside of it, and Lily was walking ahead of him, steering left to a table and a stack of documents on it. The door to the meeting room was half ajar, and inside, Toast was sitting where Scarra usually sat. There was someone else with him, sitting at the table with his back to Corpse. Mussed black hair, teal shirt that he rolled up to the elbow; there was a helmet on the table.
He was talking animatedly to Toast, arms flailing around to likely emphasize his points; he was too far to properly hear what the man was saying. But something about it was faintly familiar to Corpse. He didn’t really delve into it, far too distracted that Toast let someone sit at the meeting table like it was something normal. Maybe it was normal for the two of them, because as much as they did crazy shit, they had always been appropriate in the meeting room; like it was a sacred place where they put their responsibilities and loyalty to the family on display. It was a place where none of their mundane insanity came out. And yet here the man was, sitting in front of Toast, on the very same table they had gathered on twice every month, the set of his broad shoulders relaxed and looking very much like he was at home. Like he was someone who could get away with anything, and would still be adored by the king. By Toast.
“Corpse?” Lily called out, loudly, bringing him back to attention. She looked annoyed, as if she had been calling his name several times beforehand, snapping her fingers in front of him.
Corpse, Toast, and the mysterious man heard her voice now. The man tried to turn his head to see the commotion, and Toast’s hand quickly prevented him from doing that. He stood up, said something to the man that he nodded to, face gentle and indulging. His face hardened as he walked to the door, however; eyes sharp and looking like he was about to shoot Corpse right there with the way his gaze burned .
Toast didn’t murder him, but Corpse realized that it was a close thing. He closed the door behind him instead. Corpse swallowed, realization coming clear and blinding inside his head. Toast didn’t hate him, not exactly. But he was pissed off at Corpse. There was- there was envy in his eyes, on the lines of his face. He was… jealous of Corpse? Why? He couldn’t even begin to comprehend that thought. So he turned to Lily, face helpless and confused.
“What the fuck was that about?” he asked, voice rough and unsteady. The intensity of Toast’s stare left him more than a little bit shaken.
Lily sighed. “Right. I forgot he’s coming here today. Sorry, I wasn’t really paying attention to that. That’s Yuno.”
Corpse’s brain came to a halt. “Yuno? As in, the Yuno Sykk?” he asked, eyebrows climbing higher and higher the more he thought about it. There was no way …
Lily sighed again, deeper this time, as if she had expected that reaction. “Yes, that Yuno Sykk.”
It took him a moment to realize that his mouth was gaping open, face unguarded in his shock and admiration. Lily rolled her eyes heavenwards and muttered something he couldn’t hear past the blood rushing in his ears. That was Yuno Sykk? The infamous criminal who had been going on a rampage on Los Santos these past two years? The very same man who took the city by his chaotic hands in a storm that they couldn’t help but getting lost in? The man who rose up through the ranks of criminals in that city out of nowhere with his impossible heists and absolutely crazy stunts on the streets? That Yuno Sykk ?
“Holy shit…” Corpse exhaled shakily, giddy and terrified all in the same breath. He felt like his legs were going to collapse from under him, all the memories of hearing the news and reading the details of the man’s quirkily confusing crimes made his head spin. That man had a long, long list of crimes just in the span of two years, and there were rumors going around that he had even more history before that. Apparently, he remembered with a hysterical laugh, Yuno decided on a fucking whim that he’d start robbing banks. Just like that, like it was something one decided so lightly over a bowl of cereal, like it was that easy , so why wouldn’t he?
Except that his heists were notoriously difficult in technicalities. There were people and gangs who had tried to pull the same feats and they didn’t finish it as smoothly as Yuno and his chosen affiliates did. One of Corpse’s acquaintances in Los Santos swore up and down that the man did it in record time, with terrifying ease—like it was natural, like he—a nobody that no one knew a day before—was built for it and could do nothing better than this. He was the new guy in town that somehow became one of the best, if not the best, hackers amongst all the big names. From mouth to mouth reports, the man was crazy enough to make people fear him, but also strangely nice and soft-spoken and kept repeating that he did all of those because it was fun , because he wanted to buy food , because it turned out to be not as scary as he thought. It was mind boggling; the way he spoke of the heists as if they were nothing more than a fun hang-out with friends. With a lot more danger and nigh impossible stunts involved.
“Oh no,” Lily moaned out, walking to the couch on the lounge without waiting for Corpse. “He’s one of those .”
“What,” Corpse said, snapped out of his admittedly fanboy daydream and hurriedly followed her. “What do you mean by one of those ? You said that as if it’s some kind of disease,” he sniffled, plastering his most offended face because Lily shot him a disgusted look as soon as he sat in front of her.
“Let me guess, you’re one of his, ugh , fans? Admirers? Crazy stalkers who followed every single one of his crime reports like he’s the second coming of Jesus? Yeah. Those ,” she clarified, enunciating the last word like it was a personal offense to her. Maybe it was. Judging from her reaction, she looked like she had multiple unwanted experiences with Yuno’s… enthusiasts.
Corpse felt a pang of guilt and smiled awkwardly behind his mask, lowering his eyes and accepting her accusations. Mainly because it was true. Though, he deserved some break, alright? Yuno Sykk was a well-known figure in the underworld; he sat on the throne so suddenly that everyone was startled by it. Some begrudgingly admitted their respect, some straight up despised him, and a lot of people were just in a daze of some sort. Corpse included.
He briefly wondered which one of those categories Toast was in. Yuno and he seemed… close. If the sight he just witnessed was any indication. For a moment, all thoughts of Yuno were moved aside in favor of reanalyzing Toast’s behavior. This didn’t explain anything about the way Toast sometimes regarded him, but if anything, he seemed painfully protective of the man to the point of considering a cold-blooded murder just because Corpse happened to catch a glimpse of them.
It befuddled him, and didn’t help him understand Toast, or any of this at all. Corpse knew that obsessing over it would just lead to his lifeless body on the bottom of the river. He kinda couldn’t help it. He had a habit of obsessing over things that made him itch with a bone deep feeling of restlessness. Sykkuno was the prime example of this. Though restlessness was not the only feeling that Sykkuno incited in him.
Happiness, nervousness, something soft that made Corpse want to sit quietly in their kitchen listening to him talk about that one leaf on his plant. Something fragile and dangerous that had taken a root inside of his veins; something that he wasn’t willing to let go the more he spent time perfecting Sykkuno’s precious morning coffee, laughing about stupid shows, being allowed to look into Sykkuno’s eyes as he gave Corpse a smile that felt like a secret, a caress so gentle to his heart.
“Well,” he started, shrugging in a way that he hoped came off as nonchalant. Judging from the narrowing of Lily’s eyes, he didn’t quite succeed in doing so. “He’s uh… something.”
She looked like she was about to chew Corpse’s ears off, but then she just sighed and flipped open one of the folders. “Yeah. He is alright.”
The talk went straight to business from there, and Corpse tried his best to memorize the layout of the place Lily wanted him to stake out for an operation the next month. Three months from now, there was a mission waiting for him in Los Santos. He had done some jobs there, and they weren’t particularly interesting or Important with a capital ‘I’ or anything. But he couldn’t deny that his heart skipped a beat when his mind went back to Yuno Sykk and the way he was inappropriately relaxed in the presence of one of the most influential figures in the underworld. He had never thought of approaching the man in his missions, because why would he? A job would require his undivided focus until it was done, and besides, they were on a completely different lane. Their preferred specialty in crimes had never necessitated them crossing their paths with each other. But the thought of a possibility that they might meet in Los Santos still made something twist in his gut.
“Corpse?” Lily called when they were about to part ways. She looked less severe than she was a moment ago when she explained each assignment in detail. But there was a look in her eyes, one that shaped her face into one of hesitancy and resignation. He couldn’t understand why she would look like that.
“Yeah?” he replied warily.
“It’s better if you hear this from me,” Lily started, and Corpse stood up straighter in apprehension. “Yuno isn’t tied to the Family the way I, or you, or Toast is. He works exclusively under Toast and him only. I don’t think I need to warn you about the risk of talking about this with Toast. You might already know that Yuno has his own affiliates in Los Santos, but his affiliation with the Comfy Cartel is only known by no more than a handful of people.”
He nodded, understanding where this conversation was going. Moments like this reminded him that the Cartel was still a mafia family with a frightening reputation, one that took over the cities with iron fists and no mercy. This was a family built by highly skilled individuals who wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone or even an entire gang to establish their power. Corpse, more than anyone, had witnessed and understood completely how dangerous it was to invite the ire of any of them. Specifically, Toast—no, especially Toast.
Don Scarra had his own reputation, and by rights people should fear the man who led these people as the head of the family. But everyone knew that Toast was the biggest force of the Cartel, and was well on his way to be the next in line. He wasn’t the strongest, wasn’t the most powerful, wasn’t the top of the food chain. But people feared him because they knew he could control all the players on the board and they wouldn’t even know whether they did something out of their own volition, or because Toast willed it to be. The uncertainty, the paranoia, the extreme pressure and sense of disorientation he managed to instill in every single person he met were the reasons why Toast would always, always have the upper hand in any situation he landed himself in. It was scary to think that someone could know and understand you so well to the point of pulling your strings like you were a mere puppet. The lack of freedom and sense of control would make anyone boneless with dread.
“I like you, Corpse,” Lily continued, smiling a little and patting his arm lightly. “I trust that you will be loyal to this Family. This is why I’m telling you all of this. Yuno is Toast’s black knight; unpredictable, vicious, insane enough to pull any mission Toast gave to him. We didn’t expand to Los Santos because that city is Toast’s gift to him—his playground, where he can do anything he wants, on his own terms.”
In his own terms , Corpse repeated in his mind. Yuno was a man that Toast valued enough to not control, to let him do as he pleased without any of his strings restricting his freedom. Coming from someone like Toast, it was something so enviable, something that no one was allowed to have. Not even the Cartel was an exclusion from Toast’s clever masterminding, maybe even more so because they were his Family.
Corpse had his own fair share of experience in the underworld, and he had made a name for himself here. He wasn’t a man who would tremble in fear in the face of imminent danger or death. But even he understood enough that the consequences of being on Toast’s bad side would be a worse fate than death. It made his breath stutter and his head numb from calculating numerous horrid instances that the man could inflict on him if he ever wished so.
“I need you to keep this information from everyone. Everyone , Corpse. Even people from our Family. Whether they already knew or not, you still don’t talk about this to them. No one can know the ties between Yuno Sykk and Comfy Cartel, or more specifically, the relationship between Yuno and Toast. Do you understand?” Lily said, stepping closer with determination in her eyes. And that, that was another thing Corpse couldn’t understand the reason why. There was something he missed, a piece of information that made Lily act like this, one that he was most probably not allowed to know.
“I understand,” he said solemnly.
Lily nodded, looking relieved for something that Corpse knew wasn’t his concession. He hesitated a bit, mulling over in his head whether he should say it or not. Saying it might land him in trouble and doubt of his understanding of his position as someone in the lower rank. But if he didn’t… it’d eat him alive at night.
“But…” he said, voice small and confused. “If- if I may ask, why- why me? Why bother telling me all this if this is so important?”
The Capo regarded him for a moment, then she smiled gently. “Aside from not wanting you to ask around about this and risk getting in serious trouble, I do admit I have my own selfish reason.”
“And… that is?”
“You’ll see for yourself, Corpse,” she said, already turning away from him. “If you’re unlucky enough, that is. Or maybe it’s the other way around, who knows?””
Despite the way she said it lightly, and the small friendly wave she threw his way before she disappeared around the corner, her last sentence made Corpse shiver in apprehension. It sounded like a bad omen, a storm on the horizon that he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape from.
He glanced at the closed door of the meeting room. He didn’t know whether Toast and Yuno Sykk were still in there. The meeting room had another hidden exit, after all. Toast was the one who told him about it, but Corpse knew that he was told not because the man trusted him, but because it was a test and a threat. There were only a handful of people who knew about the exit, and if anything happened, they would know who could possibly be the perpetrator amongst the small pool of the secret keepers.
He heaved out a deep breath, dizzy from the onslaught of information and revelations. He couldn’t let them get to him, or he’d be off his game and risk getting himself killed because he was distracted. He didn’t know how exactly he should act around Toast now, since he didn’t know how the man would act either. Toast’s gaze was still at the forefront of his mind, and he turned away from the lounge with a heavy heart and a sense of trepidation that fluttered restlessly in his lungs.
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#video blogging rpf#shiki writes#from ao3#corpsekkuno#past toastkkuno#corpse husband#sykkuno#disguisedtoast#brodin plett#lily pichu#michael reeves#scarra#yvonne ng#comfy cartel au#gta-esque sykkuno#chaptered fic#mama
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I know most people are generally more likely to be invested in movies and TV and all that and so my Batfandom experience may be different than everyone else's, but I'm enough of a traditional comics nerd to be like what do you mean you don't read the comics and, yeah, I instinctively consider them more canon than other media most of the time (except when I don't). but here's a breakdown of my familiarity with the Batfandom:
at any given time I'm reading a significant chunk of current Batfamily comics (and also other comics, but some of those feature Batfamily members, too)
I'm also reading or rereading older Batfamily content, going back as far as I can find them (I'm currently reading pre-crisis Jason, but I'm desperately trying to find a digital copy of Van's issue)
I saw Battinson but I disliked it immensely and will not be seeing a sequel if one comes out
between that and the real movies (Batman 89) I haven't seen any of the movies. or, like, I think I saw more than one but I don't remember them at all, and I know I hated whichever one I saw. this is a feat because I will watch anything with Cillian Murphy in it and usually love it even when it's a trash fire. I saw (only) one of the Harley Quinn movies and it was okay.
Batman 89 are The Movies Of All Time and I rewatch them constantly, especially Batnipples. they are responsible for both my love of fandom in its entirety and my gay awakening. and obviously it's where I started with Batman
I mean I saw Superpets, which was excellent except for the monologue at the end which still pisses me off
I've read novelizations based on them, and spent my childhood rereading them over and over. I've also read other print novels but don't ask me which ones because I can't remember. yeah there are a bunch of Batman print novels actually! I don't know either!
I watched BtAS, Batman Beyond, and Teen Titans on the air. I rewatch them regularly. I recently watched through at least one JLA show (didn't care for it/them) and am trying to make it through Brave and the Bold but I don't really like it. I managed to get all the way through YJ on the promise of Virg but he's only in like three episodes??? season 1 was great but the rest of the show increasingly sucks. the vast majority of the cartoons I've never seen, especially all the movies
obsessively watching Harley Quinn show. it's the best thing I've ever seen. oddly, the comics based on it are one of the few comics I've ever returned because I feel bad returning comics usually
I saw all of HBO Titans, most of it as it was released, and I love it so so much. I wish it hadn't ended. I wish the Red Hood spinoff had actually gotten traction because I would watch the hell out of it. I hoped the CW show would have similar vibes but it's not very good really. I'm still watching it.
my absolute favorite DC shows are Birds of Prey (2002-2003) and Powerless. both cancelled immediately, which is a travesty. they are the best shows that have ever been made ever.
I'm not listening to the radio plays or podcasts or whatever. I can't really deal with that type of media mostly unfortunately
I have seen The LEGO Movie and all related LEGO Batman content. I love most of it but Damian??? that is clearly Tim wtf are you guys even talking about, you wrote Tim
I've seen the Adam West movie repeatedly. I've seen several episodes of the show but not in order and not the whole thing. I do plan a watchthrough soon.
I've never played a single Batman related game in my life, not even Batman branded Monopoly and stuff like that. I don't know what's in any of them and I don't understand references to them
anyway, so, I get that for normal people the movies are most likely, then the cartoons, then the live action shows, then the comics, but for me it's very much backwards of that. and it's weird to me when people assume that everyone's engaging with the same pieces of media in the same way
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The bar's full of people for New Years Eve, something Kai could have easily predicted, but what he didn't predict is for Mikah to make their way down during such a crowded time. He does his best to keep the other busy with some free drinks and it's only when everyone pauses for the countdown that he gets a chance to breathe. Interestingly enough, as they count down, everyone gets closer and closer together, pairing off for a new years kiss.
"Oh shit, forgot about that whole thing..." He sideglances at the other, noting they may be one of the only ones in the bar who don't have someone to kiss, and that's when he decides 'fuck it,' pulling the other in as the countdown hits one for a kiss, lasting long through the celebration into the new year. "I don't get the hype," he says as he pulls back far too casually for what he just did, grabbing a glass to fill it up. "Seems like a regular kiss." | @ensuists
They didn't really want to be here—in a space full of loud, mostly drunk people much too excited about the passage into a new year. They had contemplated not even making an effort to be here for that very reason, especially given that most of their night had been spent sitting at the bar, nursing a free drink as they watched different groups and half-heartedly listened in on different conversations…
…but here they were.
"Maybe I should've asked Evan to come visit…", they muse to themself briefly, lifting their glass to their lips and finishing off the rest of their drink silently. "I'm bored outta my fucking mind here."
Mikah places their glass down in front of them with a close mouthed sigh, palm pressed flat against the glass for a couple moments before they relax the limb and allow it to rest to the glasses' left. Their nails rap against it's surface rhythmically a couple times before it finally drops away…
... and the moment it does, their glass is taken away and the spot in front of them is empty.
Dark eyes drift up to the bartender working in front of them, flicking from his face to his hands—from the shaker he just grabbed to the various ingredients he moved quickly to deposit into it. They lean further into the arm they had propped up on the counter, seemingly content to just watch him work without making a smart comment or… saying something to distract him while he was so focused. If this place had been any quieter ( which, again, it couldn't possibly be on a night like this and it was on them for choosing to come anyway ), they wouldn't mind just sitting here too much and just…. hanging out—granted they could have Kai's attention free of consequence.
The thief mumbles a soft "Thank you" as another prepared ( and very free ) drink is placed in front of them, their right hand taking it this time and inching it closer… but only to pluck the sugary sweet cherry from the top and popping it into their mouth--stem and all.
….Maybe this was a mistake.
The bar begins to "wind down" the closer it gets to midnight, with strangers pairing off as the countdown draws nearer. Kai has finally gotten his break—his calm in the storm—by the time it gets around fifteen…and then the low tens. By the time they reach single digits, the cherry stem is out of their mouth and on their napkin; and they're entertaining the idea of calling it a night and bothering Kai when he has a day off ( or when the bar isn't as full )…
…and right as they're leaning back to straighten up, Kai pulls them back in by their shirt and seals their lips together in a kiss. It lasts longer than it should've—especially for one that had no build-up or… warning, really—and when Kai pulls away from them, they… they're not sure how they should react. Of course, their cheeks and ears heat up a little and they can feel the telltale twinge of embarrassment swelling up into their throat. However, other than that.... well... it's a little complicated.
On top of that, the casual nature of his response following it stings a bit. Not enough for them to get too upset or anything like that… but enough for them to notice.
Mikah purses their lips and fixes Kai with a stare—brows furrowed—as they take up their glass again. "That's 'cause that kiss sucked and ya expected too much from it." they tell him, leaning on their propped up arm again as they take another sip. "…Dunno what ya were hopin' would happen, honestly."
They don't know how they expected him to follow up on it, to be fair. But any response, they think, would've been better with what they got.
#🗪 ┊ ⧼ you all are some chatty cathys! ⧽ ⇹ ( asks. )#✖ ┊ ⧼ ambition is not a dirty word ⧽ ⇹ ( m. )#⚜ ┊ ⧼ it’s a wonderful cat’s life ⧽ ⇹ ( main verse. )#.i feel like they came back and decided that they were just going to give Kai a hard time#.they're so ungrateful
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The giftlist
The giftlist pro#
The giftlist free#
That’s why I try to gift an experience when attending a wedding, usually vouchers for a theatre or nice restaurant. In their photos they radiated happiness.Ĭouples like this are a reminder that marriage is about much more than presents. They were overwhelmed by the generosity of their loved ones, and their relaxed, unselfish attitude meant that they had a great wedding day. My favourite couple in recent memory dropped in to the office with a slab of wedding cake just before they jetted off on honeymoon. We have received countless photos, cards, and emails of thanks from these clients. Looking after them is a privilege as opposed to an obligation. It’s always a pleasure to deal with a friendly couple. Thankfully, we have lots of clients who are memorable for much better reasons. Dealing with the fallout is never nice but we can usually predict the couples it might happen to. We’ve witnessed plenty of rows as couples fought over what items to choose, and have even seen some relationships end before the wedding has taken place. We also get some odd choices: there was a trend for the Fifty Shades trilogy a few summers back, which made it hard to look some couples in the eye. It went unpurchased, to the surprise of nobody but the registrants. The most expensive ever was a cooker costing £11,000. We’ve had some ridiculous items appear on lists. I often think of the good we could do with all the money spent on presents. I agree with this, though I’m not permitted to say so. Guests also complain that we don’t offer a charity contribution in lieu of traditional gifts. Nobody wants to gift a peeler or spatula. If you shop late, you are stuck with the perennially unpopular kitchen utensils. They will complain endlessly when they miss out on popular items such as luggage, china or silverware. Trying to explain that some couples just don’t bother to thank people is one of the nastiest parts of my job. Even worse are clients who never say thank you for their gifts, leaving guests to call us months later to check that there hasn’t been an error or omission. I try to gently suggest that all presents are given with the best of intentions, regardless of value. Such clients then query each order that falls below this value and make us check for mistakes. Highly demanding couples also tend to expect that a specific value will be spent on each of their gifts.
The giftlist pro#
‘Looking after a friendly couple is a privilege as opposed to an obligation.’ Photograph: Digital Arts Pro Greetings/Alamy These are the accounts that follow me home at night. They email in lengthy item requests overnight and then complain when we haven’t met their needs within 10 minutes of opening time the following morning.
The giftlist free#
These clients think it’s fine for me to spend my free time delivering last-minute goods to them at work. There are, of course, plenty of difficult couples too. I have many lovely clients who are anxious to register for gifts in every price bracket and are delighted with everything they receive. Opportunities for progression are limited, but life in our office is never dull, and the pay isn’t bad either. You need strong administration skills but you have to be good with people too. I took an admin position in the company after university and a supervisor thought I’d fit well in the gift list team. I open my email with a degree of trepidation each morning, as I never know what will be waiting for me. I am encouraged to accommodate requests wherever I can. In the same shift I have tried on dresses for one client, who shared my size, and dispatched 24 place settings of gilt-edged china to another. In 10 minutes I can go from hauling stock to being at my neatly groomed best for a client meeting. So my working days don’t conform to any regular pattern. There was a trend for the Fifty Shades trilogy a few summers back, which made it hard to look some couples in the eye This blurs the line between gift list administrator and personal shopper. Offering this level of unrivalled flexibility creates challenges: I have had to become an expert on fashion and cosmetics as well as home goods, because my clients can and will redeem the value of their gift list anywhere in our store. Not satisfied with any of the gifts purchased for you? We’ll give you store credit for the lot. Not happy with your saucepans? Return them and buy the designer handbag you’ve always wanted. Couples don’t have to commit to receiving any gift that is purchased for them. Our service offers total flexibility to clients. But achieving this is easier said than done. My goal in working life is to ensure my clients and their guests are happy with our service. Summer is not about trying to catch some sun on my lunch break: I’m far too busy trying to keep up with the challenges of peak wedding season.
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