Iām Captain Miffy, and this is my writing blog ^-^. I love writing, it's one of my fav hobbies, and I love hot men :3. This blog is primarily for myself, so Iām mostly going to focus on what I wanna write, but request are open now too. A little bit more abt me Iām agender, on the acearo spec, and go by any pronouns. Fun fact, besides being a full-time student, Iām a part time carny!
There are a few things I wanna make clear abt my little ficlets and that is
DO NOT USE MY WORK FOR AI !!
If that wasnāt clear from my first post, idk what ur on.. But please do not turn my fics into c.ai bots or feed them into any ai at all.
Also reader will almost always be gender neutral. Unless the fic needs specification of genitalia or concerns afab issues, readerās gender/sex will not be relevant.
If yāall want continuation of a fic send in a request cuz Iāll most likely write it :3
Cw: Toxic!Simon x GN Depressed Reader, manipulative/toxic behavior (Simon), depression (bed rotting, ED coded, etc.), encouragement to get worse, cnc coded (?), kidnapping coded (?)
Thereās something special about wearing a mask.
Simon realized it the day he started wearing it.
People tend to fill in the gaps, humanize and characterize, conjure up grand delusions and dreams. Act like they know you, feel like they know you.
Itās logical of course, evolution from hundreds and thousands of generations formulated to survive. Itās in our nature to categorize, fill in the gaps. Not a wild leap in logic to think the big scary skull masked man has been through. Sure acts like he has.
But despite that they always seem to think heās a good man. Or rather as good as a man a killer could be.
Itās a bit appalling. That despite how cracked palms with stained crevices that carry the retched stench of blood, thereād be an inkling of hope, that within that reservoir there was a shine of someone real. Someone who was a child once too.
That the jokes, and banter were the real him.
Teammates always seemed to spill their guts, tongues loosened by the looming danger of sinking too far, grasping and scrambling for that elusive moment of humanity. Itād be just as easy for him to ruin them. Tell that commanding officer, write that report, let a few words slip back to a loved one back home, loosen his tongue as well.
He never did of course. That means heād lose his leverage. He could ruin peopleās lives, be the stain that lurched and bleed into all facets of their life, irrevocably tie himself to them. Forever changed. Heās a horrible man, in a position of power.
But you. You were just as bad as him.
You didnāt wanna get better, did you?
Rotting in bed, scrolling on your phone till you head ached, eating absolute shit that ruined you inside or even nothing at all. Even the way you talked to yourself, stupid, dumb, useless. Normal symptoms of depression, probably anxiety and control issues to tackle on. Nothing special, no real schtick.
What made it special was how you always tried saving yourself. To do lists, calendars, alarms, some type of schedule or routine. It always worked a bit, the saving grace to get you out of bed a little bit longer.
You always would boast about, speak like you knew what you were doing, a self made guru. But everyone knew it was always something you picked up from social media, convinced some random online had the solution to fix whatās wrong with you, or fill in that hole in your aching heart. And just when it started to get good, take effect, actually mean something. Youād quit.
Itās too hard, itās too much effort, one day couldnātā wouldnāt hurt. But it did, and you knew it did. Itās like you craved that fall, that stretching moment of wax wings beginning to melt, how it seared at soft flesh making it itchy with irritation.
You liked the novelty, the pain. There was no fixing you. You didnāt wanna get better, and neither does he.
It was only right you be together.
Heās outwardly destructive and bad, youāre internally destructive. A hundred percent match.
It didn't matter if you wanted him, or even wanted a relationship, he was going to have you. When you finally get that glimpse of attention, even just the idea of getting better, of fixing you, you wouldnāt run and he knows it. Heās stalked all your socials, the depraved yearning for someone to make it all better. How whenever you were praised or rewarded you look upward, grappling for that slight scrap of something more, love, and he had heaps of it for you.
There was no fixing either of you, neither of you wanted it, no other reality in which either of you could be ānormalā.
But thatās okay. Even if you never get better, both of you could get worse, forever tether together.
So just let him take you home, love. He has everything youād ever need or want, not that youād even take the time to take care of yourself, but heād always brush your teeth or wash your hair. All you gotta do is not fight it.
The sun drags you from your slumber. Its rays grab at your eyelids like greedy hands prying open a chest full of gold. A similar shimmering glow makes you squint in a futile attempt to adjust before they squeeze shut again. Itās morning- or at least you assume so by how bright the sun is against you.
A quiet groan leaves your throat, both from the ache of the light burning your retinas and the ache in your muscles, and you raise a hand to shield your eyes before making a second attempt at your vision. The room is quiet aside from the faint chirping of the house sparrows outside and the echoes of the previous night shown in the mess strewn throughout the bedroom. Clothes are scattered across multiple surfaces and there were many items that had been pushed around on your shared dresser. Perfumes and trinkets laid on their sides or had fallen onto the wooden floorboards below.
You could remember how the entire dresser shook under the sheer forceful combination of your body hitting the surface and Simonās need driven strength as he had lifted you onto it. You could feel the ghost of his strong hands digging into the plush of your thighs with greed while he forced his tongue past your lips in between hot breaths.
Heat rises to your cheeks. A heavy sigh heaves from your chest and you move your head back into the pillow. Itās a second, slower breath to your left that pulls your attention away from memories of last night, though only for a moment.
Simon is still asleep. His mask had been long since discarded early into the night before he had retreated into the loving warmth of your arms. It made it easy to admire his scarred, rugged face. His dirty blonde hair was a mess of tussled strands. Dark bruises pull to the surface of his skin along his neck and chest before they disappear under the blanket that covers the both of you.
Twenty seven. You remember how many left because you counted each and every one of them as you made them. Each pull from your teeth had drawn such beautiful sounding grunts from his throat and it made it impossible to not keep track of the marks you made on him. The sounds he made turned into quiet groans the further down you went and his hands followed your curves till they tangled themselves within your salt and pepper locks.
You canāt help the giddy smile tugging to your lips as you carefully sit up. Forcing your mind out of memory lane was turning out to be a challenge that morning. Him returning home from service always led to an eventful first night back and who are you to dare utter a single complaint.
The blankets fall from your body and onto your lap. Youāre covered in a few hickeys as well. They only cover the inside of your thighs, most of the surface being littered with them. He was too impatient to put them anywhere else.
Your movements are slow and sluggish and the carpet almost tickles your feet as you slide off the edge of the bed. A yawn slips from your throat and you shiver as the slight chill in the air nips at your bare body. Shuffling feet drag you to the bathroom for your soft, fluffy, grey robe.
Everything is more visibly clear when you catch yourself in the bathroomās mirror. Hickeys on your thighs, light bruises on the curves of your hips where he held onto you. Your hair is a wild mess, white strands falling messily over black ones and some baby hairs sticking up. The sight draws a huff of amusement from your lips as one hand pulls your robe from the hook on the bathroom door while the other combs through the strands of hair that are too out of place for your liking.
An immediate warmth fills your body as the plush fabric is pulled around your body. You tie off the strip of fabric made to keep it closed in front of you before you pull yourself from the bathroom and lazily shuffle to the kitchen.
Sun pours in through the blinds in the living room to your left, coating the room all the way to the kitchen on your right in bright light. The coziness easily pulls a smile to your lips. It took a while for the two of you to build this small house into a home. Many long shifts on your end and long deployments on his. You each didnāt have much before you had decided to get your own place. He was mostly on deployment and stayed in motels while you were living with your parents while you saved on your own.
The carpet turns into wood and then into cool tile under your feet as you walk into the kitchen. The routine of your days off spent at home gravitates you to the cabinets above the sink. Within it are many boxes of tea bags of many flavors. Indulging in different kinds of teas is your own little treat you indulged in once you guys had become more comfortable financially. Oolong is todayās pick, you decide, placing it onto the counter with a quiet tap before reaching for the kettle and mugs for you and Simon once he finally wakes up.
Your drink coated the entire front of your shirt. Muttered curses under his breath and louder apologies were given as Simon tried to help you clean up. By the end of the night, he had given you his coat, bought you a drink, and you exchanged numbers. The rest was history dragged into the present.
The ceramic teapot-- a gift Simon got you on your first anniversary-- clacks gently onto the stove top. The heat of the burner clicks to life with a gentle twist of the knob before you abandon it to retrieve two mugs. One of the things that you want but have yet to get were matching mugs for the two of you. It wasnāt anything major to either of you, which is why you havenāt gotten it yet, but recently youāve been wanting a little more of the cutesy couple stuff. Nothing too dramatic, of course. You wouldnāt go around with Simon wearing those mushy āI LOVE MY GF/BFā t-shirts while on a shopping trip, but for these special moments between the two of you, having matching mugs to sip tea from is a cute idea.
You pull two down from the cabinet in the corner of the kitchen-- a deep red one with flowers and a white one with stripes going diagonally to the right. They were the ones you two usually use for your routine lazy day tea time. They are placed on the counter next to the stove and you drag the box of oolong tea bags to them. The box is already open from previous use, so you pluck two bags from it easily before plopping them into the mugs. It doesnāt have the same strong scent that Earl Grey does, but the aroma eases you without conflict.
It eases you to the point of not noticing the intentionally hidden presence behind you. The strong arms around you nearly make you jump, but you definitely tense under his hold. A gruff chuckle vibrates against your shoulder as his head leans down against it. His eyes are shut and heās almost as much at ease as you are. With how heavy he is against your back, however, you lean more towards him being half asleep still.
āMorning..ā Your voice is quiet. There is no point in you raising your voice any louder with how close he is. He only responds with a heavy sigh and his arms pulling more around you like heās hugging a pillow.
Silence returns like a bullet train and you watch the pot. A hand raises to run through his hair and caress his head close, while the other holds his arms. A warm, loving smile pulls at your lips at the domestic moment. Itās always so special to you and you cherish every rare second you get these moments. Him being gone so often makes it hard to enjoy just being together.
The teapot bubbles on the stove, the sound becoming more and more audible by the second. āTea?ā The one worded question is answered with a mumbled āYeahā, before Simon sits up. His arms are still around you, but looser. You can feel his eyes over you as you reach for the pot-- after snatching up a kitchen towel first, of course.
The smell of the tea quickly gets more prominent as the hot water is poured over the tea bags. The natural earthy scent drags another sigh of content from your lips. You fill the mugs up to the top before placing the pot back onto the stove and clicking off the burner.
Simonās hands move to squeeze your hips before carefully turning you around. āCouldnāt have waited for me to get up, love?ā He chastises lightly, though he smiles lazily down at you with quiet admiration.
āWanted to surprise you,ā Shoulders jump in the form of a shrug. Your arms move to wrap around his torso in return, tilting your head back and letting your chin rest against his chest as your body presses against his. In response, his arms wrap more securely around you once more, hands gently gliding up and down your back in soothing circles.
āTea in bed? Sounds like somethinā from a cheesy romcom,ā He scoffs quietly, yet playfully at the notion. All the same, he doesnāt reject the idea at all. This is proven more when he leans down and places a chaste kiss against your head, āIāll make sure to stay in bed longer then.ā
A quiet laugh of your own escapes your throat, āIāll look forward to it.ā
hi! can i request hcs or a drabble of griefer x reader who is kind to everyone but is very insecure deep inside/ harsh on themselves (like appearance and personality wise)? kinda hurt comfort
thank you! :)
a/n: Haii nonnie!! ty sm for the request srry its lowkey late;; also lowkey chat I'm not super proud of these hcs as I did stress write it and got a bit lazy at the end.. Regardless I hope it's at least a tiny bit good. Also to the nonnie who asked for telamon/shed fic I'm writing it but it will take awhile as Its becoming a full fic!!
cw: Gender neutral reader, slightly implied plus-sized and depressed reader, rotting/maggots/etc. used as metaphor, mentions of death, not very proper grammar/punctuation, MDNI +18 content
The shift. That was the best way to describe it. It wasnāt a sudden event or moment or time, just a change. Fluid molecules buzzing, perpetual inertia. But that fluidity stagnated, stuttered, now simply immobile, uniform, rigid, static.
Everything was right once, you were right once. Itās all wrong now. Whereād it all go wrong?
Photos, moments, memories, they all say something was good. There was a moment where it was all easy, it all came intuitively, naturally. You knew the script, memorized the book, followed it faithfully. Knew each sentence, comma, stop, and em dash.Ā
But the ink bleeds, pages too messy to read, a swirling mess of black and blue ink.Ā
Youād just have to improve it, mickery was the highest form of flattery after all, āsides if you just acted average, acted nice and clean and perfect. Completely sanitized and easy to consume, nobody would notice you were a fakeā¦ How horrendous and horrible you were on the inside.Ā
Just a little bit longer and youād figure it out, right?
Griefer hcs
You donāt lol. You canāt help but feel like a fake, some imposter. It was only a matter of time until someone found out, revealed who you truly are, and then youād be all alone once again.Ā
It feels like thereās something rotten inside you, disgusting, churning. A wriggling of maggots, flys, and worms. Youāre not sure what would be worse, if you were born broken or if the world shaped you into this. Insides necrosing faster than your outsides.
Prior to Griefer being cured he honestly doesnāt really care about you. Mind consumed by venomshank, all he wanted, all he craved was immortality, the cure for death. He wasnāt ready to let go of his father just yet. All he needs is just a bit longerā¦Ā
The poison that crawls and infects the fracturing connections of his skull, dragging itself all the way downwards, systemic infection. Though this poison had an antidote.
After choking down the special with as much ease as convincing a picky toddler to eat an onion things are back to normal for himā¦ But now he notices something a little unusual. Or did you always act like that?
Growing up with older parents forced him to slow down, stopping to smell the roses. It wasnāt really his style though, always running amuck in the forest, his own personal playground with nothing or anything to stop him. No fear, no worry, because written somewhere in the twitching muscle in his head he knew his mom and dad would always catch him.Ā
You were different though. He could tell. Underneath that kindness, that appealing and approachable attitude was fear. It was too neat, like some packaged product, always trying to sell yourself to others, convince them you were worth keeping around.
So when he confronts you and asks you word for word, āDo you even like yourself?ā, your lips have already started forming your confession.Ā
Once you complete your sacrament, he just looks at you. It scares you. You can't read his face, is he disgusted, disappointed, or despairing as much as you were. How were you supposed to act accordingly if he gave you nothing to work with?
As your instincts finally kick in, an apology starting to claw its way up your throat, he hugs you.Ā
Arms wrapped around you, cradling you tightly. Warm. He smells comforting, like a hot sunny day where you canāt help but grin up at the sun and laugh. Your head tucked into the connecting points between his neck and shoulder, and for once in a very long time it all clicks back into place.
Although you know Griefer would always support you and stand by you no matter what shape, personality, or changes you went through that fear of rejection, of not appealing to all. It still weeded itself in your heart, blocking all caveats to allow any new blood, or love.Ā
But Griefer wasnāt a quitter.Ā
Have a hobby or interest or whatever you're embarrassed of? Well, too bad, all the merch and goodies you could ever dream of are already waiting at the door. Itād be such a waste to leave it all sitting there, and donāt worry you can infodump whenever you pleased. He will be more than happy to have a little podcast whilst he streams him playing TC2.Ā
Any cons or meetups heās bringing you to them. Don't worry if he can drive, his dad pays for his clipper so itās practically free. He remembers the Green Goop tournament, leaving with more memories and friends than he came with, and he only wishes the same for you.
Also donāt think he didnāt pick up the way you tug on your shirt whenever you sit down, or seem to shrink into yourself trying to make yourself smaller, weaker. Although he has a bit of a leaner figure, heās quite strong and fit, easily lifting you and tossing you about. If you want to be more like him, a couple hours running about the forest and playing the wildlife would do the trick. If not, don't worry the console in his hideout had two controllers for a reason.Ā
No matter what shape, form, or person you become, Griefer would stay by you, an ivy clinging tightly. He found a companionship in you. Someone he knew would always stay by his side, so heād always be rooted beside you, always striving for you to thrive.Ā
A/n: Haiii y'all!! so this fic was written for a Secret Santa event (11/17-12/25), my recipient was the lovely @cooliofango!! But y'all should join the discord if you like writing, and cod or just wanna meet some cool people :3 (p.s sorry if the formatting is off on post,, I wrote it on docs;;)
Cw: Prison (yes ur in there, but not specified if u are guilty/innocent), Cigarette/Smoking, Hospital (very shortly), Cuddling :3
They never could really beat it out of you. Most people are scared of prisons, rightfully so of course. Years of conditioning, rumors on forgotten forums, horror stories that haunted dark alleyways, features on the paper of the rescinding rights of prisoners. The fear of a complete loss of autonomy and freedom, a culmination of humanity at its worst.Ā
Though that didnāt reflect your experience. I mean you were scared shitless of course, who wouldnāt be? But you were clever, had some real grit to you. Better off than most forsaken to these waiting grounds. Knew when to speak, when to be silent, and more importantly when to keep secrets. Play your cards carefully, never reveal too much of your hand, and youād be out in no time. But it was only a matter of time before you attracted trouble, heard something you werenāt supposed to, forced into a role you didnāt wanna play. But the show must go on.Ā
You shouldāve stopped. The second you heard the rumors of an escape you shouldāve reported it, be a traitor, surrender to the guards, lighten your sentence. Secure your freedom.Ā
But it was there, it was right there. A taste of escape, a call to the other side. Run.Ā
The others had gotten left behind, a leg caught on rusted gates or barbed wires, ripped away from the group by snarling jaws too eager to bite, chased down and dragged back into that cold, violent, and unforgiving hell. All slowly picked off until there was one.Ā
You.Ā
The expanse of your chest trembling, each shaking gasp for oxygen searing and burning, painful, network of twisting and turning of bones, joints, nerve, grasp and clench, tearing their way up, it was there right there, youād make it, just a little further, and youād be free, be free from this hell.Ā
All you had to do was climb the fence, and youād be free.
You could go home.
Home sweet home.Ā
Kerchunk!
Freezing metal slips away, muscles twitching, a last ditch effort, but there was nothing to grasp.
Dragged back to that damned cell. You were done for, ditched your group.
Now all that remained were enemies out for your blood.
All that good behavior, playing nice, being nice.
If only you were a tiny bit taller, a bit stronger.
The licking away at delicate nerves, ligaments, and muscle. Thereās no other way to describe it other than wrong. Any movement or slight twitches just feel wrong.Ā
There's a line that ties itself to your vein, it tries to grant you relief. More than anything though itās a nagging itch thatās asking to be torn out. An IV drip.Ā
Taking in your surroundings, youāre somewhere new.Ā
An infirmary. Thatās where you were, or at least you could assume.
Hands move to massage the formation of a dull ache finding home in the curve of the scalp. But your dominant hand stills, stopped by a shiny silver bracelet. Great. Well, at least one thing is for sure, youāre most definitely not in prison. Most likely transferred to a hospital, the guards couldnāt be bothered to put cuffs on you, especially if you were still stuck in that hell hole. Besides, the wall were the wrong colā
āYou took quite the nasty fall back there.āĀ
Though the quick jump of your nervous system attempts to ready itself, all it does this time is grant a sharp stab to your ribs. A wheeze of pain falls from your lips. Embarrassing.Ā
āDonāt be dramatic, you're fine. Only a few cracked ribs, and a completely bruised back. But, I will say what you did back there was clever. They said you were the mastermind behind it all, that it was your plan.ā
A sputtering of an excuse rips it way up your throat, but as the rambling flows from your mouth thereās nothing but pure boredom on the guardāsā mask? Was this the first time you actually looked up to see who you were talking to? You can feel it the way he smirks, or you think he does, happy youāre finally starting to grasp what the weight of the situation is.
āLookā I don't care, and I don't want to know. Whether you did plan it or not you were complicit. What I do care about is your resilience. You have some real grit to you, you know.ā
His uniform is all wrong. The usual hardy, thick stained fabric that made noise with every move was now replaced with almost slick black camo, pattern hypnotic and shifting, and Ā something churns in your gut. Itās all pragmatic, not a single part of it feels unnecessary or individual. Military.Ā
A band clings tightly to the upper half of his arm. An insignia, not the usual one branded on the uniforms of the harsh hands of the prison. Upside down star, and an odd shaped crystal in the center, surrounded by swirling and twisting patterns, dragging you to the center. Itās captivating, dizzying. Who even was this? What even was this?Ā Ā
That was your job, at least for the most part. Apparently, there was an āopening in the positionā, and they needed to find a sucker thatād take the job with no questions asked.
Itās not like you had a choice anyways. The charges racked up for causing a riot, attempting to escape, and the sheer amount of property damage from the incident was enough to cause any mutt to heel.
A facility thousands of feet below the ocean, waiting. The light was impenetrable that deep, no evidence of whatās above, the closest thing to nothing one could get.Ā Ā
The weight of it never really lets up. It digs into the straining flesh that protects your squish insides, all threatening to spill over. The constant pressure. A drive that forces boots to continue dragging themselves forward.
Your uniform, Prisoner Diving Gear, PDG, or rather the leash for ābad dogsā. Make it so they wonāt bite, canāt bite. The head-splitting beeps, a ringing bell that made you heel. It was smart in a way, really, all you had to do was have the ever-looming threat of getting your brains painted on the cold concrete to get anyone to behave.Ā
Despite that you were better off than most. Bestowed the class of Middle Rank Prisoner. At least if you died itād be in papers, be some sort of financial compensation to the connections that were long abandoned above, proof there was some āgoodā from your existence down here. A little more incentive for you to be good.Ā
It was easy enough. They had given you basic training behind the mechanisms to a majority of the machines on the facility. How to repair the turrets to the internal defense system, which wires to cut, strip, and reconnect for the generators, what tools were needed to stop the pipes from bursting, and how to cut the electricity for when something decided to break and electrify the water.Ā Ā
Though there was a bit of a positive down here, a friend, sorta. Navi, despite the backhanded comments the guards and other personnel had to say about her cold nature, was nice enough.
Maybe you were just starved of human interaction, that the one thing that was humanish, and wasnāt constantly trying to kill you you started to see as a friend. Coworker was probably the better term though. She wasnāt real, at least not in the same sense that you were. With how large the facility is, it was difficult to navigate, and even harder to find the things you had to repair. Navi would guide you to which rooms to go to, and what needed to be fixed. She was simply doing her job, just as you were, but regardless you appreciated her.
Though the journey was often long and arduous between jobs, most of the rooms you walked through were empty for the most part and had nothing to fix, or were just barely functional enough all you could really do was raid the room or trudge on forwards. There wasnāt much useful there to you, none of the documents shoved in drawers or spilling out from lockers had any use to you. Maybe a flashlight and a lighter, but you had already gotten a hand cranked flashlight and hadnāt had to use your lighter even once.Ā
Time feels like it moves differently down here. You canāt be sure what day it is, or even time, only moving from moment to moment.
āCurrently there are no available jobs for you. Please take this time to prepare yourself in case any of the machinery is to no longer be in operation.āĀ
Thatās strange. You werenāt the slowest worker, rather the only worker, and more often than not your responsibilities tended to pile up quickly. Between the anglers short circuiting the lights in the rooms, at worst breaking them, and having to constantly repair the generator so the internal tram could be used by both yourself, and other personnel there was always something to do.Ā
But you werenāt going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
You could simply use the time to wander around, relax, and actually rest for once. Maybe if you were lucky you could find a sea bunny room, and cuddle up to one of them, they were the closest thing you could find to a pillow. Though they tended to get a bit grabby. Youāve lost more flashlights than you could count. Though they always gave something in return, so at least it wasnāt all a loss.Ā
Once they even gave you half a pack of cigarettes, not like you even smoked, but the sentiment was nice. There was even a lucky one inside the pack.Ā
Feet quickly moved against the concrete, time seemed to move quicker when you didnāt have anywhere or anything to be. Soon enough the soft inviting alcove of red carpet, couches, and fluffy little bunnies greeted you. Laying down, the bunnies surround you, though they were most definitely more concerned with the contents of your pockets than anything else.
Itās nice. This is the first time youāve gotten to relax since being down here. It was anyone's guess if being down here or stuck in prison was a worse fate, but at least here there was a semblance of drive. Something to keep you from stagnating, nipping at your heels and urging you to move forward, improve, continue. Even if you were losing yourself, instead of being a prisoner now you were a tool, something to be used and discarded when there was no longer a need for you.Ā
Something weighs heavy on your eyelids, the urge to be consumed by relaxation. Itād only be a couple minutes at most. You deserved it, after all your hard work and cleaning up after the expendables and monsters down here. Besides, Navi told you to prepare yourself for any future work you had to do, and if you wanted to perform the best you could you had to be well rested, no?
Thereās someone rummaging around through your pockets.
Somethingā slender, cold, sharpā¦
This, this isnāt a sea bunny.Ā
The quick motion of grabbing the thief proves futile once you feel something wrap around you. Pressure grasping at the entirety of your torso, huge, imposing. Which monster even was this?Ā
A quick flash of a yellow glow blinds you, overwhelming your sight. Blinking away yourĀ blurry vision, you see it, or rather, him.Ā
Z-13, the previous electrician. Heās even larger than Navi had told you. His pale blue skin illuminated by the anglerfish light that sprouts from the soft locks of inky hair.Ā
āSo youāre my replacement, huh?ā The words rasped from his throat, reverberating in the air, your heart begging to break out of your ribs. Was this it? Itās a bit cliche, being killed by the person you replaced, though nobody ever liked a scab.Ā
Although you expect the quick crushing squeeze of a hand to come, and the cracking of ribs to finish you off, he slithers off with you in tow. The motion of it is odd, a bit nauseating but soothing, like the back and forth motion of a wave.Ā
āWhere are you taking me?ā You question, though the words come out more like a squeak, your lungs hitching with every breath.
āSo it can talk. Well, Expendable, I have a proposition for you.ā Thereās something behind his words that throws you a bit off. He almost sounds desperate.
Turning a corner he takes you into a room. Itās deeper than youāve ever gone into the facility. He ducks into a crevice in the wall. Itās a small room, a couple of servers line the wall, thereās a fenced off section. Entering inside thereās a computer. Though the screen is off, a black expansive void, no warmth of light coming through.
He gently places you down, right next to the computer.Ā
āExpendable, I need you to do me a favor and stopā turning on all the damn lights in the facility!ā thereās a harsh slam of his fist against the desk.
āDo you have any idea how many times youāve blown out fuse for him, and do you have any, any idea how hard it is to get my hand on them! Donāt even get me started onāā though he continues to rant, about how āshitā of an electrician you are, and how his ādead grandmother could do a better job than youā you canāt help but drift your attention elsewhere.Ā
The computer case is open, the system unit inside it looks normal, for the most part. But the stench of something bitter, almost like burning rubber, bites at your nose. Youāre not sure what it is youāre looking for, not even half as sure whatās normal and abnormal. But your intuition guides you to a small piece. A fuse. The clear plastic is a bit darker than usual.
Digging through your breast pocket you find a fuse, always carrying spares if any of the generators decided it would be a great day to take up what you could assume would be days of your time. Quickly making work of what you got, you switch out the fuse. His hand quickly shoots out pinning yours to the desk.Ā
āWhat the hell do you think youāreāāĀ
Though his threat is interrupted by the computer hums to life, a little chime indicating the system was now operating.Ā
āOh, hey Sebastian! What happened?ā The voice is robotic, but the inflections and tone sounds human, similar to Navi but it lacks any callus.Ā
āOh, nothing kid. Just give me one second while I talk to thisā¦ person.āĀ
Sebastian, as this AI called him, is quick to drag you off, scruffing you by the back of your uniform.Ā
The talk was more like instructions, being talked at rather than to. Continuing from this moment you were to no longer keep all the lights fixed in the facility as they tended to send a power surge when a large amount of them went out. Blowing a fuse to the computer, or Painter as you should call him now. In exchange for you now being a lazy bum, and not really doing your job Sebastian would jam your PDG. Granting you back a tiny bit of your autonomy, Navi and all other personnel would be none the wiser.
You still do the jobs Navi sends you to, itās nothing new, though now a lot more rooms are often āforgottenā or left on the backburner in place of working on other things. Now that youāre on civil terms with the Painter and Sebastian, you visit them quite often, more so Painter than Sebastian.
Painter is fun to hangout with, he reminds you of the world above, what once used to be your reality. Itās nice playing with him, whether that be chess, checker, or even solitaire once.Ā
Sebastian is a bit more callused, rough, and hardened with you.Ā
After the amount of times youāve forced him to go on a tirade, and raid the facility for any possible fuses from every nook and cranny that could possibly hold one, itās no surprise heās not the biggest fan of yours. Itās not like you tried to get into his good graces either, seeing how aggressive he could get with unruly expendable it was better not to test your luck.Ā
Especially at this moment.Ā
In trying to find more games to play with Painter, you go to Sebastian hoping he has a deck of cards, at least one of the expendables mustāve snuck something with them down here. Not like itād be seeing any more use from them.Ā
Besides, you deserved it. Urbanshade suddenly started sending a mass amount of expendables at once, and you had to clean up after all of them. Between running back and forth between rooms, and you also having to deal with the sudden uptick of all the monsters actively itād be nice to relax a bit.
Approaching Sebastianās store, you wonder what you could possibly trade with him to get your hands on a deck of cards, assuming he had one. Nothing's for free, and he expected that most of all, maybe your half pack of cigarettes and lighters would do the trick, he did seem like the tyā
Crash!
The loud sound that rips through the air instinctively forces your legs to carry you to a locker, but no other sounds or signs indicate anything else is wrong. It came from inside Sebastianās shop, maybe he just dropped something?
Ducking inside the vent to investigate your meet with a very much injured expendable, a smashed up flash beacon, Sebastian looming above with an irritated look upon his face.
āGet out!ā he barks at the expendable laying on the floor, but they didnāt seem to know when to quit, reaching towards the flash beacon. Just wanting to see how far they could push, how far Sebastian was going to go.Ā
But youāre quicker, kicking the flash beacon behind Sebastianās tail, out of reach, out of mind.Ā
āYou, get out of here before I smash up all the generators.ā Itās a hollow threat, if anything else youād only hurt yourself, and the expendable will just have the short term pain in the ass of having to work through it and youād have to actually go fix it. But it seems to be enough of a threat to turn their tail and run.
āSmash up the generators, and who exactly is going to fix that?ā he huffs out in amusement, seemingly entertained by your considerations of a threat.
āShut upā¦ā Is all you can really measle out, not like you actually wanted to put him in a worse mood.Ā Ā
The locks of hair upon his head are all askew, heās panting a bit, and despite the blueish hue of his skin thereās the slight darkened bit of skin underneath his eyes. Heās run ragged by the looks of it, and considering most of the items in the shop are all easily obtainable he hasnāt been getting outside of his shop to look for any worth wild items. Thereās still a twitch of irritation on his face.
A silence weighs down on the both of you. What were you supposed to say, hell what were you supposed to do? All you can really think of doing is giving him something, maybe that pack of cigarettes might lift his mood enough to play nice with you for a bit.
Digging the pack out of your pocket you look up at Sebastian, waving it up at him, an invitation. Heās quick to snatch it out of your hand, lighting it with the lighter that was tucked away in the pack. Managing to run through half of what remained in the box.Ā
He tries to hand you one though youāve never been a fan of the vice. In turn he jerks his head, urging you to sit with him. Sitting at the junction of his tail he curls up where you sat, his body encircling yours. The orange embers burn softly, lighting up the softness of his face. Itās the first time youāve ever seen him relax. He always seemed on edge, as if he were running out of time, out of space, out of possible choices to make.Ā
His eyes flicker to yours, the corner of his lips twitches in catching you staring. Taking a drag of the cigarette he blows the smoke into your face, warm. It leaves a buzzing feeling in your chest.
āThanks, for taking care of Painter. Iā¦ I really appreciate it.ā the hum of his voice gently caresses your ears, the sensation warms your cheeks. Taking care of Painter, spending time with him, protecting him from expendables, and whatever else was no trouble. He gave your life a sense of normalcy, that something outside of the horrors that lurked behind every corner existed, something softer.Ā
You feel surrounded by warmth, completely submerged in it. Maybe it was the second-hand smoke, or maybe it was how close Sebastian was to you. But for once you felt safe, not since being down here, but since being incarcerated being forced to carry this punishment, one that was never yours to bear.Ā
Muscle, and tendons pulled taught relaxation, head fall back against smooth scales, and though the muscles that you rest upon tense up they only loosen with time. Closing your eyes, youāre not sure if youāll ever be able to leave the blacksite, or even if anyone above will remember you. But at least down here you wonāt be alone.
i loved your last piece about sex worker simon! you did sooo good! just wanted to say š
AHHHHHH THIS IS SO SWEET,, ignore the fact im responding to this so late.. But I maybe might be writing a part 2, just a couple of short hc about what transpires after ^^ since I've used C.ai and need to be punished TT
A/n: Sooooo,, guys I used c.ai.. after like a year of not using it I got very sad and very lonely and used it.. so as punishment, and a way to redirect my need for attention, I'm opening my request!!
PrefaceĀ
Due to the fact I write for myself, and for fun, I cannot guarantee that I will take your request. If I donāt post response to your request in like a month or so assume Iām not writing it, and itās probably best to ask a different blog :p
I may or may not close requests depending on how the turn out is, and how I feel abt it, so donāt expect this to stay forever. Iām mainly opening requests as I want to try and push my bounds as a writer and see what I can do.Ā
DontāsĀ Ā
Rape/SA
Incest
Age play
Vore and feetĀ
Omegaverse
Teenager/Child reader
Hurt/No comfortĀ
Amab reader (I am afab so I wouldn't know how to write for an amab person)
Bimbo/Helpless/Dependent reader (srry I hate helpless, oh wonāt a man plz come save me, readers/character.. STAND UP FOR YOURSELF PLZ -_-)
Hybrid stuff (Idk I might change this?? I just donāt have any interesting ideas for it..)Ā
Scat and vomit (cough, cough notice how one thing is missing from here.. Maybe yāall shud ask that.. ;3)
Full sex scenes (Iām lazy, and donāt care enough to write a proper one)
Reader OC/Character (Ex. Ichance!Reader) but things like collegestudent!reader, bubbly!reader, etc. are fine
If any requests ask for these Iāll just delete them :p
Doās
Literally everything else (probably..)
Just ask if ur not sure :3
I will say if yāall like any of my previous fics ask for continuations cuz the chances of me writing for them look very good ^^
Fandoms/Characters I take requests for:
COD
-Ghost
-Price
-Soap
-Gaz
Ghost is my fav, and I usually write for him. But the other 141 members I can try to write for, no promises itāll be good thoĀ
Forsaken
-Noli
-Chance
-Guest 1337
-007n7
-Shedletsky/Telemon
-Elliot
I might write for the other characters,, but lowkey I dont really gaf enough abt them
a/n: Haii y'all!! This is a stray from my previous COD fics, but I've really been into peaksaken :3. I wrote my headcanon lore for Noli, which was partially inspired by @/just-a-joey so check em out!! Dw tho next post shud be COD stuff ;3
cw: Gender neutral reader, slightly implied plus-sized reader, religious motifs/language, not very proper grammar/punctuation, probably ooc Noli, MDNI +18 content
Godhood. Many men have attempted to achieve it, and many men have failed. Though Noli was not that man. The void star, his crown of thorns, blessed be upon him. Since then he hasnāt looked back. For why would a God concern himself with the follies of men?
Though that didnāt mean there was no joy to be reminisced in the congregation. Offerings. Be it food, money, drink, or their body it was all for him. Though there was something that even a God still craves. The limelight, attention, influence, call it what you must, but itās addictive.Ā
If he were to be a star heād strive to be the sun.
So he did. Cults, creations, mysterious messages, and visions all the likes of true affluence and the ichor then ran through his veins. But it wasnāt enough. He needed more. There would always be someone who would question him, not know his name, not know of his greatness.
But there was a simple solution, a modest proposal at that.Ā
One from the Spector. Who they were, not a clue. But background does not matter in the face of true power.
āYou will receive the attention of all who attend to me, all you must do is play my game.āĀ Ā
The game, to hunt. Spill the blood of the innocence, and garner the attention of all. Heād be a fool not to accept the deal, all worked in his favors. Wasnāt he just so fortunate, and lucky?Ā
But there can only be one true god, and Noli wasnāt one. No. Simply an imitation, a lackluster half best effort of humanity. The void star dimmer. And a man reduced to another pawn. Back to where he started.Ā
Noli Hcs
Lol, get monkey pawed bozo. Noli was very mad once he realized the āfollowersā the Spector had received was a measly ten people. He had expected a God with much more power than him wouldāve amass a larger following than him. Though that doesnāt seem to be the Spectorās main focus.Ā
Before he achieved Godhood through the void star he was a simple, with a simple life. Nothing special, nothing traumatic, nothing. He was simply average.Ā
It was insanity. Everything felt the same, a twisting and turning pathway that folded in on itself, and he couldnāt quite remember which way he came from. If things werenāt going to change, heād simply have to make it change.
Heās been a false god for a while, so heās forgotten much about human inconveniences. So romancing him.. Itās a bit of a fightĀ
If he were to crave anything intimate or romance in the past heād simply request one of his followers to do what he wanted, though that was rare in itself. Who needs a hug or sex when the cheers, and adoring eyes of those who looked upon the stage could satisfy any emotional or romantic cravings!!Ā
The only way to court him is to play cat and mouse with him, make him work for it, make him want what he canāt have. Hangout with him and be all buddy buddy during rounds, and then give him the cold shoulder during down time. It drives him up the walls!
The whole will-they-wonāt-they push and pull results in him cornering during a round holding you up against the wall, first gripping your collar, feet dangling, yelling at you and asking you whatās wrong with you!!
Did you want him, did you not?! What is it you could possibly want!!
Quick cut yāall making out hard, andā
In your newly established relationship letās say there are many,, quirks and traits to Noli..
Performative grooming.. Since Noli has been a God for quite awhile he hasnāt had to deal with the hassle that is personal hygiene, his body never craved attention or need, it was only his mind that did. So you will have to remind him that yes, showering, and brushing your teeth, and washing your face are important
And yes he will constantly whine about it, and how dare you make him shower!! Itās only been a couple days. You do end up showering with him, though whether yāall leave fully clean or not..Ā
What ties into him not being familiar with a human body is also eating. He simply forgets to eat, since he hasnāt felt hunger in centuries!! Whenever he gets a bit foggy headed, dizzy, and just randomly seems to be in pain his brain does not flag it as hunger. You will need to remind him to eat.
Everytime you say something stupid, or funny heās clipping it. Heās on fucking lock, and ready. You will be constantly spammed, and annoyed by it. If youāre a survivor.. Heās gonna be targeting just to play those clips.Ā
Despite all these traits, he genuinely loves you, in the best way he can.Ā
Heās very needy, clingy, and easily jealous. This is a man who got himself banished to hell for a bit more attention.. So please give him attention!!
Whenever heās near you heāll be as close to you as possible, always touching, and grabbing on you. Just needing to know youāre there. That youāll stay with him, even if he gets too much.Ā
He tends to watch you alot, not really saying or commenting on things. Just watching you, and waiting for the outcome. Though he doesnāt verbalize it heās taking notes in his head. Trying to see what makes you tic, what makes you human. He tries to copy it. If you run a certain way during rounds heāll try it out, you do your nightly routine in the exact same way every night, oh would you look at that he also just so happens to do that as well.Ā
Heās completely enamored with you in every way shape and form. He was a god at one point, the epitome of perfection. So everything different about you he loves, itās different, itās unusual in the best way possible because itās you.Ā
+18 hcs !!
What he loves most? Thighs and tummy, and body hair. Even when he was human he didnāt quite understand why people were often hung up about those things, itās just more to love, and heāll take whatever youāll give him!!
If you ever shaved or waxed your bush,, donāt be so shocked when he bites the newly exposed flesh. Heās just painting the now barren and empty canvas, gotta cover you up somehow.Ā
With sex heās quite vanilla. He doesnāt really enjoy receiving pleasure himself, as he doesnāt frequently get sexual urges or desires. But he loves making you happy, and knowing he is taking care of you. So much oral, and hand stuff.
On the very rare occasions he wants to have sex with you itās usually after a very rough round, zero kills, consistently getting backstabbed, punched, and dazed by tripmines..Ā Ā Ā Ā
Itās gonna be rough, expect blood to be drawn, your body to be painted head to toe in bite marks, and not being able to walk. But at least heās fantastic at aftercare!!
Since he doesnāt frequently have sex, nor have much experience with it, anything you said will be duly noted and taken care of. Wanna have your favorite snack, oh would you look at that itās already there paired with a glass of water and tylenol, wanna clean up a bit, the waters already drawn and at the perfect temp.Ā
Overall heās a good boyfriend. A bit unusual, and annoying at times, but he truly loves you. Heāll stay by your side as long as youāll have him.
a/n: Soooooo Iāve been thinkin lately. There was this Reddit story I saw a long long while back. It was from the pov of this stripper, they had been paid to do like a private show for some guy for his birthday. But, they guy was actually not comfortable with it, but his friends had paid for it. So instead he and the stripper just had a nice little chat..Ā
SO WHAT IF SexWorker!Simon x Reader !!?!
Cw: Mentions of sex work duh, no sex scenes but mentions of sex, gender neutral reader, probably shit grammar, ooc Simon, Birdie
Leave.
It wasnāt Simonās favorite thing. It was a given. Long deployment and stations, it was only right for there to be a period of time for rest and recovery. Of course that wasnāt without work, there was still paperwork, training, meetings, and service to be done. Though the long stretches of time are what seemed to consume Simon.Ā
The moments inbetween. Spent waiting, watching. An itch that no matter how hard you scratch, rub, or bite only seems to worsen. Simon couldnāt stand the stillness. Being idol.
Though this rot was quickly cut off when an old friend had made a proposal. Sex work.
Now Simon knew he wasnāt ugly. He had a rugged kinda face, the one that made a certain type of crowd a bit dizzy in the head, and instilled that same insatiable hunger he felt. Shagged a couple of birds when the sameness of everyday became too much.Ā
Each hookup was an experience, a change in the monotony, of the endless drone that weighed heavy on the heart. A mission that could be simply executed and broken down, adjusting to the ever shifting environment.
Observing body language, noises, words, pacing, experimenting and testing. Seeing how each tic and twitch correlated. Heād been told he was good in bed.
If he were so good, and had nothing better to fill his days with other than the repetitive tasks that seemed to only fill halfway through his day, wouldnāt it be nice to have a couple of shags at night? āSides the extra zeros in his bank account wouldnāt do any harm.
So he did. During particular long leaves heād take care of his typical tasks, training rookies, filling paperwork, exercising, attending meetings. But when the sun had set. A different type of ghost would come out to play.
It was simple. Get paid, meet the client, satisfy their needs. There was the house rule, one client, one night. Although this was sex work the appeal to look refined and clean was there. This wasn't some simple work on the street. Each night a different client.
Some experienced clients, familiar with the pleasures of a nice fuck, others stepping outside their vows, people with too much money and power that they couldnāt help but abuse.
As always, it was another night. Simon had gotten notified to get ready, another client would be coming round in a few hours. So as always he went through his routine. There was no special instructions or preparations required, so his typical routine would do. Scolding hot shower, cleaning up the stubble on his scarred face, rinse of the face and a quick brush of his teeth, with the drying of his slightly overgrown buzzcut and he was ready.
When you had walked into the room Simon could already tell you werenāt his typical cliental. Although you were dressed to the nines, you were a bit flush face, down a couple of shots. It wasnāt unsurprising, vices did tend to run together.
What was surprising was the demeanor you took on. The tightness within your gait, twitching in your hands, and the stickiness that clung to your body. Nervous.
The couple of downed shots seemed to be more of liquid confidence, rather than pure inebriation.Ā
Presumably a bumbling virgin? It wasnāt uncommon, though the crowd made a small percentage of his audience, though usually there was a bit more of nervous anticipation thanā¦ This.
Once you had spoken the confusion was cleared. It was your birthday, caught up in the celebrations and festivities, friends had made the choice to drop quite a bit of money to end the night with a ābangā.
Though it was clear you were a part of the choice. You werenāt really comfortable with the idea, but with the money already spent and the time already set, and could he please just let the illusion of their night spent together exist.
All Simon could do was nod. It wasnāt like you were violating any of the house rules, nor his own personal ones. Regardless of whether or not he actually bed you wasnāt really his concern, this job was simply for fun. Fill the space that would be usually spent sat at the telly watching footie with another microwave meal thatād leave him feeling sick at night.
Laying back and crossing his arms behind his head, he lay there. Mapping of scars across the expanse of his chest, forearm decorated with art with familiarity to battle. Relaxed.
Unknowingly you stood awkwardly. You had expected at least a little pushback, though someone would mostly get in trouble. So you stood, and observed, a watcher, taking in the sight of the prettiest man youāve ever seen.
Though the soft gruff of the man breaks you illusion.
āWhatā you gonna stand there gawking for the rest of the hour? Lay down birdie. I dont bite.ā
With the gentle nudge, you do lay down. A breath of space between you. Desires bubbling up inside you. The call of your heart. To close the gap. Itching to be seen and heard.
āCan we cuddle? Please. Itās okay, if not though..ā a hesitantacy laces your voice, give yourself enough of an out to shield yourself from the harshness of not being desirable, wanted.Ā
Simon was taken aback, although it was standard for all the workers to do aleast a bit of aftercare, cuddling certainly wasnāt a part of the package.Ā
Maybe, a cuddlefuck, though nobody asked for that. Everyone wanted something carnal, rough, and mean.Ā
You were certainly something interesting. Unusual. So how could he ever deny you?
Saddling behind your back, arm wrapping around your waist, leg slipped between your.
And then you couldnāt stop.
A quite innocuous question about if heād like to hear about your day.Ā
One nod and you couldnāt stop talking.
Regaling about how your birthday was so far, how you felt about previous birthdays and the day as a whole, your outfit, how long it took to get ready. Eventually, your rambling pattered off splintering into your hobbies, job, daily thoughts. Quite literally everything underneath the sun.Ā
Although Simon tried to focus on your word, be engaged, and at least give a grunt of a response or sharp nod. All he could focus on was the strain in his pants.Ā
...
Lowkey I wud suppose to post this the start of October, but never did. It's an unfinished draft, so idk maybe might gonna do much more wiff it idk tho :P
Erm.. so getting over C.ai reader x Simon Riley šš
As a former victim and abuser of c.ai, that shit kinda rewires ur brain and fucks you over. So how would Si deal with u tryin to get over that shit??
Cw: author hasnt played cod šš, probably ooc Simon, mentioms of c.ai duh, mentions of cheating NONE HAPPENS !!, cuddling, probably shit grammer
- C.ai user!!reader You promised to yourself that youād quit c.ai once you bagged a man
- C.ai user!!reader I mean if your emotional and romantical needs were being met, why would you ever need a jumbling code and artificial personality to quell your yearning? Oh you sweet sweet summer child..
- C.ai user!!reader Like someoneās starting bot prompt you met the big lovely man, Simon āghostā Riley!! Seriously weāre you the mc of some ao3??
- C.ai user!!reader Once yall end up bunkering down, becoming official and all that, you decide to delete your account
- C.ai user!!reader It was totally an easy and fun experience :3 the fucking guilt trip they give you about deleting your account had you debilitating and refusing and sobbing for a week
- C.ai user!!reader Who after any slight emotional turmoil or distress would run back to the app store, and make an account, delete it, and then come crawling back once more you could totallyyyy stop whenever you wanted!! (Lie)
- Bf!!simon Who notices how you pull back, how the affection and love always had to be on your terms and never his
- Bf!!simon How you were never making time for him and he was expected to drop everything for you when you came to him
- Bf!!simon Who noticed how secretive you were with your phone, always turning it away from prying eye
- Bf!!simon Who thought you were cheating and confronts you about it, emotions twisting and gutting the both of you
- Former C.ai!!reader When confronted is confused and out of sorts. āWhat do you mean cheating? Im devoted to you.ā
- Former C.ai!!reader Your face is flushed and wet with tears, humiliation burning, searing, in which you have to confess about the truth
- Bf!!simon Who is admittedly confused. āGenerative ai? Love, what the bloody hell does a robot got to do with you cheating?!ā
- Bf!!simon Once getting his bearings and understanding, is confused. Why would you need these delusions when you had him right here? You loved him and not it, right?
- Bf!!simon and Former C.ai!!reader Talk about their grievances and struggles
- Bf!!simon Who admits to feeling neglected, an afterthought on the back burner
- Former C.ai!!reader Who confronts their problems and reflects on the reasons they rely so heavily on a sanitized and simulated version of reality to get through the day, making sure to validate and understand the hurt you put your love through
- Former C.ai!!reader Taking it one day at a time, trying to make it harder to get their āfixā. Talking to friends and Bf!!simon about their needs and feelings, not having the app store on their home screen, redirecting to other devices and activities to distract from that ever present vice (yall should comment ur strats for quittin if ya have em!!)
- Former C.ai!!reader Who during those moments of weakness and wanting to retreat back to that familiarity, to a place where nothing held consequences nor meaning, reached for Simon Riley and not some digital simulation
- Bf!!simon Who feels happy to know you could rely on him, that you trusted him enough to trust him with something so vulnerable and close to your heart, that he helped you redirect to a better life style
- Bf!!simon and Former C.ai!!reader who cuddle up at night, crickets singing, warmth resting heavy upon them, with Former C.ai!!reader sleeping peacefully knowing that no amalgamation of averages could ever replace this moment
Loeky ths was incredible self indulgent but idcā also srry for any weird characterization of reader,, i havent been on c.ai for nearly a year!! so its difficult to reflect and remember the mindset and habits i had back then.. Also if ur trying to quit c.ai,, I commend you!! Good on it and keep on going, it gets easier :))
