#me checking in on holiday and seeing this news i'm PISSED

[yenvengerberg]

not shadow and bone being cancelled when the scripts are already written. a season is right there ready to be filmed and netflix are once again throwing it away to become another in a long list of wasted potential. netflix, maybe you should stop picking up book adaptations if you have zero long term plans for them because you cannot do them justice in two seasons max.

#me checking in on holiday and seeing this news i'm PISSED #shadow and bone #listen i know s2 wasn't the best but the REASON was because they were worried for cancellation!! and guess what!!!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How I got scammed

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/05/cyber-dunning-kruger/#swiss-cheese-security

I wuz robbed.

More specifically, I was tricked by a phone-phisher pretending to be from my bank, and he convinced me to hand over my credit-card number, then did $8,000+ worth of fraud with it before I figured out what happened. And then he tried to do it again, a week later!

Here's what happened. Over the Christmas holiday, I traveled to New Orleans. The day we landed, I hit a Chase ATM in the French Quarter for some cash, but the machine declined the transaction. Later in the day, we passed a little credit-union's ATM and I used that one instead (I bank with a one-branch credit union and generally there's no fee to use another CU's ATM).

A couple days later, I got a call from my credit union. It was a weekend, during the holiday, and the guy who called was obviously working for my little CU's after-hours fraud contractor. I'd dealt with these folks before – they service a ton of little credit unions, and generally the call quality isn't great and the staff will often make mistakes like mispronouncing my credit union's name.

That's what happened here – the guy was on a terrible VOIP line and I had to ask him to readjust his mic before I could even understand him. He mispronounced my bank's name and then asked if I'd attempted to spend $1,000 at an Apple Store in NYC that day. No, I said, and groaned inwardly. What a pain in the ass. Obviously, I'd had my ATM card skimmed – either at the Chase ATM (maybe that was why the transaction failed), or at the other credit union's ATM (it had been a very cheap looking system).

I told the guy to block my card and we started going through the tedious business of running through recent transactions, verifying my identity, and so on. It dragged on and on. These were my last hours in New Orleans, and I'd left my family at home and gone out to see some of the pre-Mardi Gras krewe celebrations and get a muffalata, and I could tell that I was going to run out of time before I finished talking to this guy.

"Look," I said, "you've got all my details, you've frozen the card. I gotta go home and meet my family and head to the airport. I'll call you back on the after-hours number once I'm through security, all right?"

He was frustrated, but that was his problem. I hung up, got my sandwich, went to the airport, and we checked in. It was total chaos: an Alaska Air 737 Max had just lost its door-plug in mid-air and every Max in every airline's fleet had been grounded, so the check in was crammed with people trying to rebook. We got through to the gate and I sat down to call the CU's after-hours line. The person on the other end told me that she could only handle lost and stolen cards, not fraud, and given that I'd already frozen the card, I should just drop by the branch on Monday to get a new card.

We flew home, and later the next day, I logged into my account and made a list of all the fraudulent transactions and printed them out, and on Monday morning, I drove to the bank to deal with all the paperwork. The folks at the CU were even more pissed than I was. The fraud that run up to more than $8,000, and if Visa refused to take it out of the merchants where the card had been used, my little credit union would have to eat the loss.

I agreed and commiserated. I also pointed out that their outsource, after-hours fraud center bore some blame here: I'd canceled the card on Saturday but most of the fraud had taken place on Sunday. Something had gone wrong.

One cool thing about banking at a tiny credit-union is that you end up talking to people who have actual authority, responsibility and agency. It turned out the the woman who was processing my fraud paperwork was a VP, and she decided to look into it. A few minutes later she came back and told me that the fraud center had no record of having called me on Saturday.

"That was the fraudster," she said.

Oh, shit. I frantically rewound my conversation, trying to figure out if this could possibly be true. I hadn't given him anything apart from some very anodyne info, like what city I live in (which is in my Wikipedia entry), my date of birth (ditto), and the last four digits of my card.

Wait a sec.

He hadn't asked for the last four digits. He'd asked for the last seven digits. At the time, I'd found that very frustrating, but now – "The first nine digits are the same for every card you issue, right?" I asked the VP.

I'd given him my entire card number.

Goddammit.

The thing is, I know a lot about fraud. I'm writing an entire series of novels about this kind of scam:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

And most summers, I go to Defcon, and I always go to the "social engineering" competitions where an audience listens as a hacker in a soundproof booth cold-calls merchants (with the owner's permission) and tries to con whoever answers the phone into giving up important information.

But I'd been conned.

Now look, I knew I could be conned. I'd been conned before, 13 years ago, by a Twitter worm that successfully phished out of my password via DM:

https://locusmag.com/2010/05/cory-doctorow-persistence-pays-parasites/

That scam had required a miracle of timing. It started the day before, when I'd reset my phone to factory defaults and reinstalled all my apps. That same day, I'd published two big online features that a lot of people were talking about. The next morning, we were late getting out of the house, so by the time my wife and I dropped the kid at daycare and went to the coffee shop, it had a long line. Rather than wait in line with me, my wife sat down to read a newspaper, and so I pulled out my phone and found a Twitter DM from a friend asking "is this you?" with a URL.

Assuming this was something to do with those articles I'd published the day before, I clicked the link and got prompted for my Twitter login again. This had been happening all day because I'd done that mobile reinstall the day before and all my stored passwords had been wiped. I entered it but the page timed out. By that time, the coffees were ready. We sat and chatted for a bit, then went our own ways.

I was on my way to the office when I checked my phone again. I had a whole string of DMs from other friends. Each one read "is this you?" and had a URL.

Oh, shit, I'd been phished.

If I hadn't reinstalled my mobile OS the day before. If I hadn't published a pair of big articles the day before. If we hadn't been late getting out the door. If we had been a little more late getting out the door (so that I'd have seen the multiple DMs, which would have tipped me off).

There's a name for this in security circles: "Swiss-cheese security." Imagine multiple slices of Swiss cheese all stacked up, the holes in one slice blocked by the slice below it. All the slices move around and every now and again, a hole opens up that goes all the way through the stack. Zap!

The fraudster who tricked me out of my credit card number had Swiss cheese security on his side. Yes, he spoofed my bank's caller ID, but that wouldn't have been enough to fool me if I hadn't been on vacation, having just used a pair of dodgy ATMs, in a hurry and distracted. If the 737 Max disaster hadn't happened that day and I'd had more time at the gate, I'd have called my bank back. If my bank didn't use a slightly crappy outsource/out-of-hours fraud center that I'd already had sub-par experiences with. If, if, if.

The next Friday night, at 5:30PM, the fraudster called me back, pretending to be the bank's after-hours center. He told me my card had been compromised again. But: I hadn't removed my card from my wallet since I'd had it replaced. Also, it was half an hour after the bank closed for the long weekend, a very fraud-friendly time. And when I told him I'd call him back and asked for the after-hours fraud number, he got very threatening and warned me that because I'd now been notified about the fraud that any losses the bank suffered after I hung up the phone without completing the fraud protocol would be billed to me. I hung up on him. He called me back immediately. I hung up on him again and put my phone into do-not-disturb.

The following Tuesday, I called my bank and spoke to their head of risk-management. I went through everything I'd figured out about the fraudsters, and she told me that credit unions across America were being hit by this scam, by fraudsters who somehow knew CU customers' phone numbers and names, and which CU they banked at. This was key: my phone number is a reasonably well-kept secret. You can get it by spending money with Equifax or another nonconsensual doxing giant, but you can't just google it or get it at any of the free services. The fact that the fraudsters knew where I banked, knew my name, and had my phone number had really caused me to let down my guard.

The risk management person and I talked about how the credit union could mitigate this attack: for example, by better-training the after-hours card-loss staff to be on the alert for calls from people who had been contacted about supposed card fraud. We also went through the confusing phone-menu that had funneled me to the wrong department when I called in, and worked through alternate wording for the menu system that would be clearer (this is the best part about banking with a small CU – you can talk directly to the responsible person and have a productive discussion!). I even convinced her to buy a ticket to next summer's Defcon to attend the social engineering competitions.

There's a leak somewhere in the CU systems' supply chain. Maybe it's Zelle, or the small number of corresponding banks that CUs rely on for SWIFT transaction forwarding. Maybe it's even those after-hours fraud/card-loss centers. But all across the USA, CU customers are getting calls with spoofed caller IDs from fraudsters who know their registered phone numbers and where they bank.

I've been mulling this over for most of a month now, and one thing has really been eating at me: the way that AI is going to make this kind of problem much worse.

Not because AI is going to commit fraud, though.

One of the truest things I know about AI is: "we're nowhere near a place where bots can steal your job, we're certainly at the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

I trusted this fraudster specifically because I knew that the outsource, out-of-hours contractors my bank uses have crummy headsets, don't know how to pronounce my bank's name, and have long-ass, tedious, and pointless standardized questionnaires they run through when taking fraud reports. All of this created cover for the fraudster, whose plausibility was enhanced by the rough edges in his pitch - they didn't raise red flags.

As this kind of fraud reporting and fraud contacting is increasingly outsourced to AI, bank customers will be conditioned to dealing with semi-automated systems that make stupid mistakes, force you to repeat yourself, ask you questions they should already know the answers to, and so on. In other words, AI will groom bank customers to be phishing victims.

This is a mistake the finance sector keeps making. 15 years ago, Ben Laurie excoriated the UK banks for their "Verified By Visa" system, which validated credit card transactions by taking users to a third party site and requiring them to re-enter parts of their password there:

https://web.archive.org/web/20090331094020/http://www.links.org/?p=591

This is exactly how a phishing attack works. As Laurie pointed out, this was the banks training their customers to be phished.

I came close to getting phished again today, as it happens. I got back from Berlin on Friday and my suitcase was damaged in transit. I've been dealing with the airline, which means I've really been dealing with their third-party, outsource luggage-damage service. They have a terrible website, their emails are incoherent, and they officiously demand the same information over and over again.

This morning, I got a scam email asking me for more information to complete my damaged luggage claim. It was a terrible email, from a noreply@ email address, and it was vague, officious, and dishearteningly bureaucratic. For just a moment, my finger hovered over the phishing link, and then I looked a little closer.

On any other day, it wouldn't have had a chance. Today – right after I had my luggage wrecked, while I'm still jetlagged, and after days of dealing with my airline's terrible outsource partner – it almost worked.

So much fraud is a Swiss-cheese attack, and while companies can't close all the holes, they can stop creating new ones.

Meanwhile, I'll continue to post about it whenever I get scammed. I find the inner workings of scams to be fascinating, and it's also important to remind people that everyone is vulnerable sometimes, and scammers are willing to try endless variations until an attack lands at just the right place, at just the right time, in just the right way. If you think you can't get scammed, that makes you especially vulnerable:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #social engineering #phishing #ai #swiss cheese security #infosec #finance #fraud #carding

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you're used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what's on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Right, this was supposed to be a drabble series but it morphed and not I'm fucked.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It's the most special time of year! Mistletoe, jingle bells, and holiday cheer! Oh, and hot chocolate. Lots of that.

You hide your thermos under the desk and grab the crystal bottle again, giving a test spritz to the air. Your job isn't very complicated. All you do is say hi and chat about the perfume. Your manager says the job is selling but you don't like to see it that way.

You smile at a family of five as they veer towards the toy section. You don't think the six year old would be into an eau de parfum. It's understandable.

While you spend your hours wandering around expensive makeups and scents, you're filled with a certain hint of longing. For what you're paid to push the merchandise, you can't afford any of it yourself. Well, you've never been very materialistic.

You spin around and see a gentlemen approaching, though he doesn't seem to see you. He looks past you, almost through you. You stop in place and put on your best smile, fixing the red band around your head.

"Hello, sir, would you like to try some Gucci?" You offer and spray the nozzle at him.

He skids to a stop and recoils as if he's been slapped. He holds out his arm as he looks down at his coat, little droplets seeping into the fabric. He takes a whiff, his short mustache wiggling under his nose, and he scoffs as he tries to shake off the cologne.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He snips.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You just go around spray people with that horseshit?"

"Well, sir, with respect, I don't like that sort of language.

"And I don't like being drenched in dog piss," he blusters, "point me to the goddamn trimmers."

"Um, what kind? Nail trimmers? Pet trimmers? Garden trimmers?"

"What the fuck do you think?" He points to his own face.

You hold your smile. There's always that one customer who's having a bad day. Whatever's got him so upset must be worse than dealing with him.

"Personal care," you point to the far corner, "right over there, sir."

"Ugh," he stomps and storms off.

"I hope your day gets better," you call after him, "oh, did you want a store coupon--"

He ignores you as he waves you off over his shoulder. You watch him turn towards men's grooming and you shrug, rocking slightly. You try not to let them get to you. As jolly as you find this time of year, a lot of people don't feel the same.

You shrug off the encounter. You still have a few hours ahead of you and it's starting to bustle with customers. You help a couple find the home wares while keeping the boundary of cosmetics firm. Lucille, the manager, doesn't like you leaving your zone.

You approach a woman looking at the Prada selection and get her checked out with a new fragrance, specially gift-wrapped by yours truly. She leaves happy, a small victory for the day. You celebrate but not too much.

You come around the counter just as you see that man strutting back up. He has an item in his hand and ignores you as he passes. Still you smile at him.

"Annoying," he mutters under his breath.

"Need help finding anything else, sir?" You ask his heels.

He stops and you see the way his spine stiffens. Oh no, you shouldn't have said anything. He slowly turns to face you.

"You can shut up," he marches up to you and grabs the bottle from your hands, "shut." He sprays you in the face, "up." He squirts you several more times before shoving the vial against your chest, "stupid little girl."

You take the bottle, blinking as you use your cuff to wipe the perfume away from your eyes. He continues on his path as you stand dumbfounded, drenched in Gucci cologne. It's hard to breathe through the heavy scent and you can't help but cough.

What a jerk. Just because he's having a bad day, doesn't mean everyone needs to.

Slowly you grow accustomed to the smell of yourself. It’s not too unusual. You go nose blind about halfway through your shift once you spray a few too many samples. You keep your distance from customers, offering them a spritz but trying not to crowd them with the vapors of cologne rippling off of you.

You yawn as the afterwork rush floods in and you make another round, smiling at Sofia as she peeks over at you. She’s with another customer at the counter, ringing them up as she gabs. You spin at the display at the center of the crossway that runs through the beauty department and stagger back before another can run you over.

You apologise to the tall man as he skids to a stop on his soles. You can tell he’s in a hurry by the way he grips his briefcase and squares his jaw. He wears a long dark wool coat as flecks of snow melt into his thick beard.

“Oh, sorry, I er, wasn’t–” He clears his throat, collecting himself, “I… didn’t see you.”

“That’s okay, sir,” you assure him, “would you like to try the new scent?”

You hold up the onyx bottle but don’t spray him. You don’t need another dousing. He looks at the silver letters on the side then at you. The furrow in his brow lightens as his blue eyes swim.

“No thanks, but er, you think you could help me find something?”

“Of course,” you chime and lower the bottle, “are you looking for a gift for someone special?”

He nods, “my mother-in-law is on her way into town, I need a present. Maybe perfume?”

His tone is tinted with frustration as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. He lets out a long sigh. He’s one of those shoppers; the last minute scrambler. You grasp the vial in one hand and tug at the front of your thick red sweater, you’re starting to get a bit toasty in the crowded store.

“How old is she?” You ask.

“Um,” he clamps his lips together and thinks, “hmmm, probably seventy-something? I’m sorry, I guess I should know that.”

“That’s okay, I… I would suggest some Liz Taylor,” you turn on your heel and wave him after you as you head off, “it’s a classic. Not so much a me scent but the older crowd likes it. Oh, and it’s on special so your wallet won’t hate it, either.”

You stop by the Diamonds display as you face him again. He follows at a pace and stops before the shelf, perusing the gold caps and crystal caps. He considers the rack in deep thought.

“Here,” you set down your bottle on a nearby table of seasonal decorations and take one from the display. You slip out a strip of cardstock and spray it with the sampler, “this one is gardenia. That was her favourite scent. It’s probably the least pungent.”

You offer him the sample and he eyes it. He slowly bends and sniffs the end of the paper. He wiggles his nose. It makes you sneeze too. As much as you’re a fan of the classic actress, her scents are dated.

“Smells like her,” he grumbles under his breath, “sure, I’ll take that.”

“Great,” you declare and trade the sampler for a boxed bottle, then retrieve your disposed Gucci vial, “would you like me to check you out, sir?”

“Is it faster?” 

“I can be fast,” you promise him, “this way.”

You go around the sparkling counters and he meets you across the till. You type in your log in, taking several tries to get your passcode right. The man places his briefcase on the counter,a hand resting on the edge.

“You know a lot about this stuff?” He prompts.

“Yeah, I guess,” you smile as you scan the perfume and tap the special offer on the screen, “kinda part of the job.”

“Hmm” he hums again, in that thoughtful manner. You look at him but he’s not looking at your face, “that’s a nice sweater.”

You look down at the red wool speckled with pearls. It’s new and one of your favourites already. You can’t help a little wiggle of your shoulders, “thanks!”

“Very… cheerful,” he muses as he takes out his wallet, “wish I could say the same of what awaits me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, it’s that time of year, I guess,” you push the debit machine towards him and he taps his credit card, “I’m sure your mother-in-law will love the perfume.” The transaction approves and the receipt prompts, “would you like an email?”

“Nah, that’s fine,” he tucks his credit card away.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” You offer, “it’s free?”

He hovers his hand over his briefcase as he considers it. His eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples, “alright, yeah, that’s… that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“No problem,” you beam back at him, “let me just get some tissue paper…”

You murmur to yourself as you grab some gold tissue paper and a white gift bag with a Christmas tree embossed into the side. You carefully line up the small box on the paper and begin your intensive work. You're a master wrapper, you used to work at the wrapping station in the mall.

“What about you?” He asks before the silence can stretch too far, “you seeing family for the holidays? When you’re not working?”

“Um,” you smile as you look up, “I’m just hanging out with my dog. I bought him a bone.”

“A dog,” he nods, “your family live out of town?”

Usually, you ask the questions. It’s easier that way. It deflects the attention from you. It’s why you like the job; you can hear all about others and not have to think about yourself.

“Yeah, something like that,” you slip the wrapped box into the bag and fluff the tissue paper.

“Eh!” The loud exclamation makes you jump as the man merely turns his head, a tic in his jaw. His eyes narrow as another customer approaches, strutting with hands in his jacket pocket as he calls out, “Barber, what the hell?”

Your customer shifts towards the man, heels squeaking on the floor, “Hugh.”

“Don’t Hugh me, asshole,” the other man retorts, “you said you were busy? What’s the matter, you lose too much money last time?”

“Suzette is in town. Family dinner,” the man, Barber, drones dully.

“Ah, ditched for the old crone, I get it.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, wouldn’t you know it, poker night was canceled, something about not enough seats,” the man counters sharply.

“Next week,” the first man growls.

“Hey, you,” the man in the russet coat snaps his fingers in your direction, “you got some of that Acqua di Gio. That dumb girl over there said you’re sold out.”

Your brows pop up and you swallow tightly. He’s another type. The arrogant demander. He doesn’t hear no. He’ll ask everyone the same question in hope of getting a different answer.

“We are out of stock, sir, but I could order it in for you,” you suggest.

“Order in? I can just go on Amazon, thanks for nothing,” he chops his hand at you dismissively.

“Hey,” the other man nudges his chest, “be nice. She’s working.”

“What? I’m here to spend money and they got shit all–”

“It’s December,” the other man reproaches before he turns back to you, “sorry, my friend is a jerk.” He accepts the gift bag as you hold it out, “thank you. You saved me.”

“No problem, but er, I was gonna say,” you turn to the other man, “sir, I have some samples of the Armani. I could give you those while you wait for the order.”

“Samples?” He echoes, “how many?”

“Let me have a look,” you back up and go to the drawer at the back of the checkout.

“I gotta get going, miss,” the first man waves his hand as you peek over your shoulder, “have a happy holiday.”

“You too,” you chirp back and find the last few tubes of Armani. You claim them and prance back to meet the new customer at the counter, “I have five.” You lay out your wares, “if I order in a bottle it’ll be in just before Christmas.”

“Two weeks?” He puffs.

“I’m sorry, sir, that’s the earliest I can do. It’s the last day I can guarantee delivery before Christmas.”

“Talk, talk, talk, order it,” he snaps.

“Right, let me just…” you open the shop and search up the scent. You add it to the cart and proceed. “Alright, got that, did you want it shipped for pick up here or to your address.”

“Here, they can never fucking find my house,” he sniffs.

“Great, so when it arrives, we’ll give you a call. You’ll also get an email to confirm.”

“What’s going on here?” He points at you suddenly. You look down again at your sweater but don’t see anything amiss. You flinch as he reaches to pinch one of the pearls, “what is this?”

“Oh, I… my sweater,” you raise your head, swallowing down the insult. It’s cute!

“Huh, Walmart clearance, huh,” he scoffs, “alright, how much are you robbing me for?”

He reaches into his coat as you hit total. You read out the final amount but he doesn’t pull out a card; he hands you cash. You count the bills, twice over, then give him his change. He looms with impatient huffs.

“Here’s your receipt,” you hand him the strip of paper. “Have a good day, sir.”

“Mmm,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he shoves the receipt into his pocket, “actually, while I’m here, I’d like a new sweater. You can help me and I’ll show you what real quality is.”

You almost laugh. Not spitefully, it’s just a bit silly. He’s competing with you, a perfume pusher.

“Well, sir, I can point you towards men’s fashion but I’m not able to leave this department, I’m sorry,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Oh no, good girl wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he rolls his eyes, “goody goody and her precious little smile.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “my shit better be in by Christmas.”

He twists and strides away. You watch him go but not for long as you’re quickly distracted by a customer looking at the Britney Spears collection. Those are easy sellers.

#andy barber #lloyd hansen #ransom drysdale #dark andy barber #dark lloyd hansen #dark ransom drysdale #dark!andy barber #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!ransom drysdale #andy barber x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #knives out #the gray man #defending jacob #au #multicharacter #multifandom #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #three for one

[toomuchracket]

if you're too shy (office nerd!matty x reader fluff)

in which the other music journalist at the magazine you work at is the cutest weird boy you've ever met. enjoy <3

in hindsight, coming back from a two-week holiday the same day the magazine goes to print was a misguided idea.

your editor-in-chief tells you as much when you enter the office, pulling you into a half hug. “don't get me wrong, it's lovely to see you,” she says, scraping her hair back into a bun and securing it with a pencil. “but you'll be doing nothing all day, i'm afraid. maybe some last minute proofing, but i think everyone in nightlife and reviews has been alright. double-check with marianne.”

you do just that, weaving your way through people running copy and coffee between departments until you reach your own. it's mercifully quiet compared to everywhere else, the ten or so people dotted at desks around the sunlit room looking at their laptops and wearing headphones; you actually have to flick marianne on the back of the head to get her to notice you. “oi.”

“who the- oh, hi!” marianne's face softens when she sees it's you, and she stands to pull you into one of her infamously bone-crushing hugs before pulling back to get a good look. “well, you look annoyingly well-rested. but i suppose a fortnight in a spanish villa will do that to you. bitch.”

“i had a great time, thanks for asking,” you grin. “how’s everything been with you? stressful, without your star reporter?”

“well, for starters, you've been succeeded for that title.”

you frown only half-jokingly, scanning the room to try and guess which of your colleagues has replaced you as marianne's unofficial favourite. “who the fuck…?”

“language,” she lightly slaps your arm, in spite of the fact she was just about to say the same thing, then smiles suspiciously. “and i’m talking about our newest recruit.”

the brewing annoyance in your stomach dissipates immediately, replaced by a flock of tiny butterflies. “oh,” you try to keep your smile to a minimum. “that's okay. i like him.”

marianne sees right through you, though. she rolls her eyes. “oh, you would.”

“what?”

she sighs, motioning for you to lower your voice and modifying her own to a whisper. “he’s a curly-haired pretty-eyed vaguely scrawny white boy. you'd like him even if he didn't think the sun shone out of your arse.”

“marianne!” you hiss. “he does not!”

“don’t act all indignant, he has literally looked over at you once every thirty seconds since you walked in - and don't look, idiot, you'll freak him out. we need him on the ball, today of all days,” she rubs her eyes. “but yes, he’s very good at his job. i like him, even if i've no idea what in the world he goes off on his tangents about. great writer.”

“yeah, he is,” you risk a glance towards him, but all you can see is the back of his laptop - covered in stickers for things you can only name half of - and dark curls peeking out from the side of his headphones. “i like the references. different perspective from me, innit? that's why we hired him, after all.”

“who's we? you were too pissed off that i was hiring another music critic to agree to be part of the interviewing panel.”

you'd love to disagree, but you really were pissed when marianne and the other editors told you they were expanding the nightlife section. it didn't matter that it was in response to an increase in funding and readership, with the magazine switching to a print format as well as the online edition you'd contributed to since its creation - your fierce independence and pride meant you didn't take the news well, made you think it was an issue with your competence and writing ability that meant you'd be getting a new colleague. but once you were reassured that you'd still get to keep the Big Gigs and restaurant reviews to yourself, you were slightly more agreeable to the idea.

and once you actually met the new guy, stumbling over both his words and his own feet as he introduced himself, you couldn't quite remember why you'd been opposed in the first place.

“well,” you say, snapping back into reality. “thank goodness i'm over it now.”

“because you want to get under him?”

“no!” you stand indignantly, and then grin. “on top, maybe.”

“good grief,” your boss shakes her head. “don't you go bringing it up to him - excuse the pun - before this edition goes to the printers,” she points at you as you move to walk away. “or talking to him at all until then, actually, you hear me? i love you, but you're a distraction to him, and he's my best journo.”

“he's not, but alright,” you pat her head as you walk back towards the door. “i'll be in the staff room if you need me. and i won't talk to anyone, mum, i promise.”

“i'm only five years older than you!”

“whatever you say!” you reply in a singsongy voice, giggling to yourself as you wander towards the sunny kitchen. the little radio on the windowsill is on, as it always is, and you nod along to the cure while you wait for the kettle to boil. once you've made a cuppa (and grabbed a slack handful of the chocolate digestives marianne always keeps the cupboard stocked with), you settle at the table with your laptop, typing out ideas for your next feature and doing your best not to think about the boy down the corridor you've been instructed not to talk to for the time being. for the most part, you succeed.

that is, until he walks into the staff room two hours later.

you frantically wipe your face of biscuit crumbs as he does, smiling as sweetly as you can for someone with no idea if she has chocolate on her teeth or not. “hi, matty. how are you?”

“oh, hi! i'm, uh, i'm alright,” matty smiles widely enough that his verbal emotional downplaying is blatant - still, he's so cute, beaming at you like that with his little sweater paws. he’s always in a jumper or cardigan or hoodie of some kind, and on more than one occasion in the three months you've known him, you've absolutely thought about literally cosying up into him instead of doing any work. “how was spain? and the wedding - it was a family wedding you were going to, yeah?”

“that's right,” it’s not a big deal, but you glow at the fact he remembered. or maybe it's the soft intent he looks at you with. “it was lovely, yeah. although - wait, have we gone to print?” you ask, suddenly recalling marianne's instructions. “i'm not keeping you from work?”

matty's curls bounce as he shakes his head, light hitting off the metal hoop in his earlobe (that you're only mildly obsessed with). “we've gone. i'm just in here to get my lunch,” he pulls a tupperware from the fridge, cheeks rosy as he waves it. “made some soup last night.”

he makes his own soup. the thought is so endearing that it takes everything in you not to sigh; you settle for a smile. “carrot and coriander?”

“you can tell from one glance?”

you shrug. “s'my favourite.”

“really?” matty's face seems to light up. “mine too,” he busies himself with putting the tupperware in the microwave, taking his time pressing buttons and turning dials before looking bashfully at you. “so, you had a nice time at the wedding, then?”

“i did, thank you. do you, um,” you start, suddenly shy. “d'you want to see some photos from it, while you're waiting for the soup to heat up?”

he nods back just as shyly, sitting quite awkwardly on the seat next to yours; while you open your photos app, matty twists a stray curl around his finger, and the movement seems to send your nerves into vibration as well as the molecules in the air. with a series of shallow breaths, you locate the folder of the wedding pictures and set your phone on the table. “feel free to flick through them, if you like.”

“thank you,” matty sits forward, carefully swiping through the album. you lean on your elbow, doing your best not to beam adoringly at the way he looks intently at each photo before moving to the next. “the venue is really beautiful.”

“yeah, it was stunning.”

the next picture is one of you in your bridesmaid dress, taken by your sister the morning of the wedding. you watch, slightly heartsick, as matty's mouth falls open as he looks at you; the feeling worsens when he tentatively does the same thing in real life, those pretty eyes of his sparkling as he smiles softly. “so are you. really. like,” he looks down at the photo again, shaking his head slightly before looking back up at you. “that colour is beautiful on you. honest. you look incredible.”

“thank you,” the words come out in a whisper, and the two of you silently smile at each other for a moment until you clear your throat. “um, there are more of the official pics on my instagram, let me… actually, do you have my private account?”

“oh, no,” matty shakes his head again - god, you love the way his hair moves. “just the one for your writing.”

“well,” you tap on the app with an almost-imperceptibly shaky finger. “that's the username there, if you'd like to follow. no pressure, of course. don’t wanna fuck up your algorithms or anything.”

your nervous chuckle at the end of the sentence turns to a giggle when you see matty's face as you share your username; it lights up so much that you'd be forgiven for thinking he'd just won the lottery. he pulls his own phone out and taps away at it. “you don't have to follow me back, by the way,” his cheeks flush a deep red, a beautiful colour. “m'not posting anything interesting.”

doubtful. he might be one of the most interesting people you've ever met, all talent and sweetness and a wealth of cultural understanding wrapped up in a sweater and a pretty face. “no, i'd like to.”

“alright. thank you,” matty's cheeks seem to get even redder as he watches you hit follow back, face twitching as though he’s trying to stop himself smiling too big. when the microwave dings, he all but skips over to it, almost tripping over the leg of his chair in a sweetly awkward way; he swears under his breath when he lifts the steaming container out, turning back sheepishly to look at you. “sorry.”

“don't worry,” you grin at him, feeling slightly bold. “i still think you're sweet when you swear.”

he giggles, and the noise makes your heart leap; in addition to being one of the most interesting people you think you've ever met, matty healy is without doubt the cutest. watching his lips pout in concentration as he stirs the soup and checks the temperature, you briefly imagine what they would feel like against your own, how he would be if the two of you were to kiss. just as giggly and endearingly awkward as he usually is, you think - eager to please, lips and tongue a little sloppy and unsure but enthusiastic enough for you not to mind, slightly unsure of where to put his hands so as to not make you uncomfortable… the scene is as clear as day in your head, and you really, really want to recreate it. you'd devour him right now if you could, the sweetheart.

and then, matty reaches up to get a bowl from the shelf, the hem of his shirt goes with him, and your want to devour him suddenly takes on a less pg-rated meaning than it did a second ago.

he has a fucking hip tattoo.

you’re pretty sure it's only a sliver of the full design you can actually see, but the hints of red and blue and black ink and the glimpse of his happy trail are enough to fuck you up completely. as you register what you're seeing - what you're discovering about the seemingly buttoned-up, shy, unassuming-to-everyone-but-you matty - your breath catches in your throat, forcing you to cough quite obviously on the mouthful of lukewarm tea you'd just taken. one cough turns into another, and you clap a hand over your mouth to make your tattoo reaction attack the least obvious it can be.

still, the ever-perceptive man across the kitchen notices, running over to crouch in front of you with concern filling those beautiful eyes of his. “you alright, darling?”

darling?! no, you most certainly aren't alright.

but you can't tell matty that, so you stick to gesturing to let him know you'll reply once you've managed to swallow your tea. “i am, yeah, thanks. tea just, y'know, went down the wrong way.”

matty tilts his head. “you sure?”

“yeah,” you smile, slightly embarrassed. “really. thank you, though.”

“of course,” he smiles in return, knee brushing lightly against your leg as he steadies himself; he looks down, eyes widening as he registers how close the two of you are, and quickly stands. “i'd better, y'know, get my lunch.”

you nod, despite the strange loneliness settling into your bones at the lack of him next to you. “i can head back to the office, if you want peace?”

“no, no, please stay!” matty all but gasps, turning to look at you like a deer caught in headlights - he clears his throat, blinking a few times before speaking again. “please don't feel the need to leave on my account, i mean. or feel obliged to talk, really - i was just going to read.”

“you're sure i won't be a bother to you?”

matty smiles warmly, shaking his head. “that'll never happen.”

christ.

“okay,” you whisper, winking at him - and savouring the little giggle that bubbles out of him when you do - before turning back to your laptop. 

matty settles at the table a minute or so later, pulling a paperback from his back pocket and holding it open quite attractively with one hand. you peek over the rim of your laptop at him every so often, never for more than a couple of seconds at a time; partially to avoid the mortification of him catching you, but mostly because if you look at him any longer you know your mind will wander back to that fucking hip tattoo of his, and what it might look like completely visible to you, and what it might feel like under your lips, and what noises matty might make if you slowly dragged your tongue all over it before moving to the side to lick a wavy line up the length of his-

enough. he's literally right there.

the room feels hot, all of a sudden, your cheeks flushing and throat drying to match. on only slightly shaky legs, you pick up your waterbottle and head to the water fountain, crouching as best you can to fill it. even though he stays silent, you can feel matty’s eyes on you from across the room, but it doesn't bother you or freak you out in the way that other men ogling you at a water fountain would - it's quite obvious that matty has some sort of more-than-platonic affection for you, but his gaze has always been one of appreciation and awe when it comes to you, not the predatory one you've come to expect from men. and yet, his is the only male gaze that makes you feel slightly nervous, unused to being looked at with such reverence and tenderness by an attractive boy; in complete contrast, though, it also makes you lower your guard, pull down the bricks from the wall you've built around your heart, and allow yourself to actually feel something for matty, for once. something good, honest, promising.

matty looks up from his book as you sit down, smiling pleasantly. he opens his mouth as if to talk, and then closes it immediately, shaking his head slightly.

this intrigues you. “you okay, matty?”

“hmm? oh, yeah, i was just thinking,” his cheeks go a shade of pink you would buy in blush form if you could find it. “when you were first talking about the wedding… you said although, and then we got off-topic slightly. what, um, what were you going to say, if you don't mind me asking?”

“oh, right,” you wrack your brain, doing your best to not get distracted by how cute you find his perception. “i think i was going to say something about how, as good as it all was, there's nothing like a family wedding to remind you of how single you are.”

his jaw falls open. “you… you don't have a boyfriend? wait, sorry,” he blinks. “or a partner?”

you shake your head, biting the inside of your lip to stop yourself smiling. “no boyfriend, no. and thus, constantly advised by a never-ending flock of aunts that i should get one so i could get married.”

“christ,” matty winces. “yeah, my cousin's getting married in a couple of months - not looking forward to everyone asking me when i'm going to meet a nice girl and settle down, as if i can answer.”

no girlfriend. how interesting. “you're single? really?”

he rolls his eyes, still smiling at you. “be serious. course i am.”

“i am being serious! that surprises me,” you lean on one elbow, tilting your head to look at him. “you're lovely, matty.”

matty’s eyes widen, and he blinks adorably a few times before he smiles shyly again. “thank you. i think the same about you.”

“you do?”

he simply nods, total sincerity in those pretty eyes. 

you feel your cheeks warm, but you make no effort to hide it. “thank you.”

matty shrugs. “just telling the truth, darling,” he looks panicked when he realises what he's said. “sorry for calling you that, twice, it just-”

“i like it, matty, it's alright,” you say reassuringly. “and i like-”

“oh, thank god you're both here,” marianne bursts into the room, carrying her laptop; you frown petulantly at her for ruining your moment, but shuffle your chair round closer to matty's so she can sit at the table too. “something weird’s happening.”

matty squints. “what d'you mean by weird?”

marianne pushes her laptop towards you both. “there's overlap in your planned reviews - the band you're going to see at the end of next week, matthew, have just been announced as the opener for the next Big Gig. i need to know how we want to go about this.”

“oh,” he looks at you. “i don't mind if you want to just review them as part of yours.”

you're shaking your head vehemently before he even finishes talking. “no, that's not fair,” you tap your lips with your index finger the way you always do when you concentrate, trying to ignore the glow within your body when you see matty looking at them from the corner of your eye; inspiration strikes, and you turn to marianne. “matty could come with me, couldn't he? if he reviews their headline gig, and then he does a follow-up review of their opening set in the Big Gig feature - we could just do a joint byline, work together on it.”

both of them turn to look at you in slight shock. marianne is the first to speak, her words trickling out slowly as she processes the fact you've just agreed to let someone else work on a Big Gig for the first time. “you're… happy with that?”

“if matty is, yeah,” you turn to him, smiling. “sound alright?”

he beams. “more than. thank you.”

“of course,” you turn back to the boss. “there you go. sorted.”

she sighs, relieved. “thank goodness for that. alright,” she stands, picking up her laptop and heading back to the main office. “i'll coordinate press passes. thanks for making that simple - you're both stars.”

“anytime!” you call after her, before turning back to matty. “you're sure you're happy to do this? i realise i've just given you more work to do, but…”

he laughs, a beautiful sound. “nah, i don't mind. also,” he shuffles in his seat, bashful again. “i actually have a spare ticket for the first show, if you'd like it - bought it before i saw it was on the review roster. doesn't seem fair that i get to go to two gigs while you only get one, i think. i mean, no pressure, obviously, but the offer's there.”

god, he’s so fucking cute. how could you ever say no to him? “i'd like that a lot, matty, thank you,” you beam at him. “i think us working together is going to be a lot of fun.”

matty beams back just as enthusiastically. “i think so too.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #office nerd au #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

[ivystoryweaver]

Fairytale of New York

Summary: A tired, pathetic puppy wanders into your diner on Christmas Eve. Things...escalate.

Pairing: Llewyn Davis from Inside Llewyn Davis x f!reader who wants what she wants

Word Count: 2.2k

Content: nsfw, mdni, language, mentions of past mistreatment, talk of contraception, gun but no violence, oral -f and m rec., not beta'd

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Bone-weary.

Your grandmother used to say it.

The man in front of you looked deep-in-his-bones, forlornly, kicked-puppy exhausted.

Which was a feat in and of itself, seeing how you were surrounded this evening by hungry, homeless people, and he was definitely the most handsome one by far.

Chocolate curls tumbled effortlessly across his forehead. His dark beard was kempt - not the fuzzy, matted mess of the men around him.

At first glance, you wondered if he was here to order a regular meal or volunteer. He almost looked put-together enough.

But he sighed - a bone-weary, defeated, groaning sigh.

"Cold night," you commented, noticing how he struggled to create even the tiniest spark of warmth from his corduroy blazer and wool scarf. He seemed to try and make himself smaller, as if willing the too-thin layers of fabric to truly envelop him.

"No shit," he fired back, clenching his fingerless glove around the handle of his guitar case. Noticing your look of slight amusement, he sighed, tiredly. "Sorry. Long night. Wondering if I could get some coffee?"

"Sure thing," you nodded past him to an empty two-top, offering him a warm smile.

Your boss Sal was a hard ass with a heart of gold. On Christmas Eve, anyone could eat free from ten to midnight at this fine dining establishment where you earned your measly paycheck.

You were living the dream - serving diner tables. But Sal was good to you and the other guys and gals you called coworkers - granting holiday bonuses and sometimes, you could swear he beefed up your tips at the end of the night. Just a couple dollars here or there, but it helped.

You returned to the pathetic puppy of a man with a fresh, hot cup of coffee. "Want something to eat? Everything's on the house tonight."

One eyebrow shot up curiously. "Free? You're serious."

"It's Christmas Eve," you said mysteriously, wiggling your fingers as if casting a spell. "Sal's got a soft spot for people who need a hot meal and got nowhere to go."

Kicked Puppy nodded, his eyes momentarily flickering up and down your body.

"So, what'll it be, handsome? You want something to warm you up besides that coffee? Or do you have a pressing holiday engagement?"

Narrowing his tired, dark eyes, he looked like he was trying to come up with a clever reply, but ultimately let out a defeated, bitter-ish chuckle. "Got friends, but...every one of them's pissed at me. On my own tonight."

He shrugged helplessly. "I guess I'm kind of an asshole sometimes."

Wagging your finger, you went along with him, playfully. "I could tell that about you, right when you walked in. I took one look and thought, 'that guy is definitely an asshole. Probably shouldn't serve him.'"

He almost chuckled, but it was a weak laugh at best.

"Bowl of chili sound good? Or...I have chicken noodle, or a hamburger. Not much left in the kitchen," you offered.

A few minutes later, Mr. Handsome Kicked Puppy sipped his bowl of chili while you finished up with your other customers. A few of the homeless guys liked to flirt with you, but they were pretty harmless.

Everyone knew not to cross Sal and his employees anyway.

You noticed Kicked Puppy's gaze fixed on you, so you made your way back over and checked to see if he needed a refill.

"I'm good," he waved you off, but something made you linger. Probably the fact that he was kind of beautiful.

"You a singer?" You prodded, nodding to his guitar case.

He made a face - seemed to be a sore spot for him, but concurred. "Sang across the street tonight. You ever been?"

Peering out the window, you read the club's neon sign. "No, but I always wanted to. What kind of music?"

"The only kind," he shrugged.

You motioned to the spot across from him. "Mind if I sit a minute? Feet are killing me. Promise I won't ask you to sing."

He leaned back, folding his arms over his chest, eyeing you curiously. "Oh, you won't?"

"'Course not," you smiled, waving your hand dismissively. "Everyone knows musicians hate that. It's like...your living. You can't just sing for free."

His eyebrows shot up as he leaned in. "You're mocking me..."

"No," you laughed. "I'm serious. It would be like someone asking me to serve drinks at a party without paying me." You motioned around you. "Not much of a career but I should still get paid for it."

"Thank you." He gestured animatedly. "My...friends - some of the people who usually let me crash - always try to parade me out at dinner parties, like an attraction. Fucking annoying."

He paused for a moment. "Almost feel like I owe them sometimes, you know... Can't do it, though."

"You have your pride," you sympathetically reasoned. "That's fair enough."

You stood, reaching to collect his dirty dishes. "So, who's couch is it tonight if everyone's pissed at you?"

Running a gloved hand over his beard, he shook his head and shrugged. "What time do you close?"

"Midnight."

He slowly nodded.

"What's your name, singer?"

"Llewyn."

You smiled softly and introduced yourself. "You don't have anywhere to go after midnight, do you?"

He shook his head as his gaze dropped.

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12:24 A.M. - Christmas

"Can't believe you're letting a strange man sleep in your apartment," the handsome bone-weary puppy voiced as you turned the key in your deadbolt.

"You're not a stranger anymore, Llewyn," you replied, trying to find just the right way to wiggle your key... "Got it! Damn thing sticks all the time."

Shouldering your way inside, you tossed your bag on the tiniest kitchen bar in existence, motioning for him to come on in.

"Like I told you - it's not much. You might be warmer sleeping in a car, but the love seat will keep you off this frigid, hard floor. And the water's warm, since we're over the diner. Sal's my landlord too. He keeps everything running nice enough. Cheap ass on heat though."

"No, I really appreciate it," he gratefully returned, “especially on Christmas. You sure I'm not interrupting anything?"

"No..." You let out a wistful sigh. "No, I don't have anyone." You smirked at him playfully. "But I do own a revolver if you're having any weird ideas."

"Holy shit," he whistled. "Glad you take care of yourself, I guess."

Llewyn reveled in your attention and care over the next half hour. You made a batch of hot cocoa while he took the warmest shower he'd had in weeks. You turned on a Christmas record and found a couple of thick blankets for him to sleep (or attempt to sleep) cramped up on the love seat.

"Thank you for this," he quietly voiced, sipping his cocoa, his eyes drooping with exhaustion. "Don't deserve it. If you knew me, you'd push me right back out that door."

"Maybe," you shrugged, sipping your own warm beverage as you curled up in the only chair in the place. "But it's Christmas. Even assholes and loners need a break sometimes."

He regarded you with interest, his eyes raking over your form for the millionth time. "That what you are? A loner?"

You hid behind the ceramic of your mug for a moment of reprieve. "Have to be. What else is there for a woman who doesn't want a marriage and kids?"

You shuddered, remembering how many times your ex had sabotaged your efforts at contraception...and how violent he'd become when he found out you were actively trying to not get pregnant.

Hence the waitress job, freezing apartment...and the revolver.

"You don't want kids?" He asked, clearing his throat. Maybe you were somehow...perfect.

"I really don't. You’d think women would have a few more options now that it’s the ‘60s. So I got my revolver to make sure my ex stays away. He’s a bigger asshole than the two of us," you answered, transparently. Noticing how his dark eyes widened at your candor, you laughed.

"Scared yet?"

"No," he chuckled. "But I guess that answers the question of whether or not we're gonna fuck."

Smirking, you took one more sip of cocoa before pushing off your chair to kneel down in front of him. Your eyes met his challengingly as you spread your palms over his thighs, pushing them up to his hips.

"That why you're an asshole?" You challenged, reaching for the zipper of his trousers. "Can't be bothered to wear a condom?"

"Can't afford that shit," he fired back, enjoying the view down your t-shirt.

"Definitely an asshole," you shake your head, dragging his zipper down and tracing your fingertips over the outline of his hardening length with your fingertips.

"My pussy's off limits unless you want my revolver shoved up your ass," you inform, leaning over to suck on his leaking tip through the fabric of his underwear. "But fuck it. It's Christmas. You can come in my mouth."

"Fucking hell," he groaned at your forwardness, shifting his hips to give you easier access to pull his cock free.

"Oh shit, you're big," you marveled, running the tip of your tongue over your lips in anticipation. Wrapping your hands around him, you turned your eyes up to his. "Merry Christmas. Don't say I never gave you anything."

You licked a stripe up the underside of his shaft before placing him on your flat tongue. Your eyes flickered back up to his tauntingly as you slowly wrapped your lips around him and swirled your tongue.

"Jes....oh fuck," he moaned, gripping the arm of the tiny couch.

Bobbing your head up and down a few times, you pushed yourself past the point of comfort and swallowed his tip. Your mouth stretched to take him, and the challenge of it made you instantly wet.

“Holy f-fuck,” he responded eagerly, “just like that.” You let him fuck your mouth, free hand gripping your jaw as his hips found a rhythm thrusting and gagging you.

Something about how pathetic this man was - how eager and responsive to your touch - it was doing it for you. You hadn’t done anything this spontaneous in a long time, but it felt good. And you certainly didn’t mind a heavy, hot cock in your mouth.

A few heavy thrusts and gags later and he coated your throat with his spend, letting out a near embarrassing whine as he came.

You let him soften before pulling off him and licking your lips clean. “Bet you’ll sleep well now.” You winked.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, shaking his head as you stood and started to shed your clothes. Remembering you were pretty clear about not fucking without a condom, he slowly stood, stuffing his soft cock back into his pants. “What are you…”

“I have a twin bed, but you’ll fit better than on that thing.” You nodded to the love seat, now standing in front of him completely nude. “But to sleep with me, you’re gonna need to return the favor. I’m fucking soaked.”

Minutes later, this rather beautiful, bearded man knelt between your legs in bed, his prominent nose nudging tauntingly at your puffy clit. His plush mouth sampled your pussy lips, as if he was making out with your cunt.

“F-fuck yes,” you groaned as he fucked his tongue into your hole, sucking and slurping at your juices.

Your fingers slid into the softest curls, twisting them around your fingers as you rocked your pelvis up to meet his soft beard.

The he started humming. And not just a humming sound but a fucking tune. After several delicious, deep thrusts of his tongue, he pulled out, making you whine at the loss of stimulation.

His hum gently morphed into a few lyrics as his eyes gazed up at you, equal parts cocky and pussy drunk - your slick coating his beard and lips.

‘Hang me, oh hang me…I’ll be dead and gone…’

He slid two fingers into your slick, warm hole, curling them with the dexterity of an instrumentalist. Then lowered his smirking mouth back down to trace circles around your clit with his tongue. Kept right on humming.

Laying his tongue flat, he laved your sensitive bundle of nerves with a few rough licks before wrapping those sexy lips around it and sucking.

He added a third finger - you were plenty wet enough for it and the slight stretch made your back arch off your twin bed. Fingers curling, lips sucking, and that insistent hum sent you right over the edge into earth-shattering bliss. Your body seized in mind-altering pleasure and then went completely white as you rode out the best orgasm you’d had in years.

He worked you through it before blatantly licking you clean and climbing his way up your body to cage you in. The look on his face told you he was definitely satisfied with himself, but the hot flesh of his cock prodding at your thigh meant he didn’t want this to be over.

"Is that my revolver or are you ready for more?" You teased, reaching to wrap you fingers around his cock. "Don't think I have any condoms big enough for all this."

He groaned, hips shifting into your grip. "Maybe we could just - "

"I'll will shoot you. Go the fuck to sleep, Llewyn."

And that's how an exhausted, pathetic puppy of a man, with soulful brown eyes, and the voice of an angel, ended up in your twin bed on Christmas Eve.

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#1000 followers #oscar isaac fic #holiday fic #holiday celebration #oscar isaac characters #celebration #1000 follower celebration #christmas fic #llewyn davis #llewyn davis x reader #inside llewyn davis

[yaut-jaknowit]

BRO I LOVED THE SIZE KINK YOU WROTE BASED OFF OF MY POST😩🙏🙏 literally been constantly reading it i’m so obsessed. I literally have so many mlm ideas from angst to nsfw so I can spam your inbox if you want (or dm’s if you wanna be moots)💀✋

BUT LIKE- imagine male reader soldier x male yautja where the reader had been off radar for a few months with their mate worrying only for the reader to return with new scars and a mechanical arm because he lost his real one during war😩

And then on god the yautja would be pissed asf because he was worried the reader was dead 😭✋

Return to Him

Pairing: Mai'tuiudh (Male Yautja) x Male Reader

Word Count: 2063

Summary: Four months isn't a long time to be away from home. Yet, everything that has occured during that time made it seem like years. Years since you last saw Mai, your beloved. You wished to see him, to ensure to him you were alright. Just a bit beaten up and newly scarred. This Yautja isn't liking the unfamiliar feeling of worry. That doesn't stop him from feeling that way. Nothing would.

Author Note: This one made me think a bit. I'm not used to these kinds of requests or prompts, not complaining though! Loving the prompts! Also, to those who requested something. It's going to take a little bit to get to those. Christmas time is very busy. I have three families to visit and my brother came into town after moving away four months ago.

I'm so glad you enjoyed that! I was a little worried since it was out of my knowledge. You can do whatever you want. I don't mind being mutuals. I will let you know that I'm bad a responding though, lol. I'm up to anything you want within reason, of course! Throw them at me.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

Masterlist

Ao3

A ding behind him made the Yautja whip around in his chair to find a disappointing screen. Mai snarled lowly to himself and banged a fist against the armrest. He had set up a diagnostic to search through your government’s database for anything on you. It came up empty handed, nothing new about your location.

He felt his spine bristle at the thought. Where were you? A few buttons were harshly pressed on his dashboard. The ship you sometimes called home hummed louder before changing directions. Mai abruptly stood up and marched out of the room.

If your government doesn’t know where you were then, he was going to search for you personally. Earth may be large, though not as massive as Yautja Prime, that wouldn’t stop him. This Yautja wasn’t going to coward away at a challenge. It was in his blood to hunt. That’s what made him, well, him. He was a fighter and would never think about backing down from a challenge.

Though, it would take time to reach earth without eating up his low fuel reserves. To hide away from detection from your government’s space program, he flew into Neptune’s gravitational pull. His ship was pulled in and forced to orbit. Mai had to play smart, be a hunter without distraction. That’s the only way he would be able to find you without getting caught. That would ruin the double life you live. One Mai’tuiudh will never understand. The Yautja shook his head, tresses swaying as he passed through the short hall to the sparing room.

To pass the time, Mai’s going to work off some pent-up steam. Your time away from the brute has caused some unnecessary stress on his weary bones. He needed to relieve himself of it.

His muscles rippled, fist meeting reenforced leather. Mai’s mandibles pulled close. A hunter’s focus craved into his face. Eyes keen and moves precise. The hit was probably harsher than it needed to be against an unalive object. Yet, Mai’tuiudh didn’t care. If that’s what helped relieve the stress within his bones. Then, that’s what needed to be done. He needs to a take stop at his mother ship anyhow for supplies and whatnot. Check in so no one thinks he’s dead.

That would mean he’ll have to leave for about two weeks. Space travel wasn’t always the quickest, especially with low reserves. Plus, Mai will be forced to make rounds around the ship. He may not be an important figure; it was customary to check in hunting brothers and sisters. Find out who’s dead and who lives. Everything that make’s living as a Yautja, Yautja.

.

When your feet hit dry, dusty soil, you cringed. Dust from the vehicles stopping behind you blew over to you. It forced you to close your eyes and hope for its quick pass.

Once it had left, you carefully made your way to the back of the unsuspecting black SUV. The driver was swift to hop out, scrambling after you. “Sir! I can-can get th-hat for you,” the rookie stated and attempted to move past you. Your uninjured arm shot out and stopped him taking another step.

Without a single sound, you stepped up to the tailgate and simply opened it. The rookie shifted his weight frequently and arms straight at his side. His eyes were on you though, flickering all over the place on the view before him.

On the other hand, you slung the mildly heavy bag on your shoulder. It pulled at the muscles on your other… arm. Your face scrunched up at the sudden pain but not a noise made it past your lips. Years of training and all make a fine soldier. You just got to beat the human out of him.

The rookie stood there, eyes watching as your tired, used body limbed past him. One of his arms hesitantly reached to grasp at you but one side stepped easily dodged the rookie. He just stared at your leaving form, gaze dipping down at the unmatched color on your right hand. Then they were locked onto the back of your camouflaged jacket molded to your shape.

Your apartment’s door slammed heavy behind you, the noise causing you no disturbance. Even the headache swallowing you barely increased at the sound. Instead, you let your bag slide off of your shoulder and on the ground. It made a soft noise, the only one in your quiet apartment.

It hadn’t been that long since you’ve last stepped foot in here. Not longer than four months. Yet, with all that has occurred within that time frame, it felt like years.

One thing after another happened out there, facing the enemies your country makes you fight. The demons. All for what? Losing amazing people or causing unnecessary trauma and bodily harm on the soldiers that defend this nation. You sighed, shoulders sagging before shuffling into your room and flicked on the light.

Nothing had been moved. Light dust had settled on everything you owned. The room was still in the state as long before. Clothes thrown haphazardly on the floor; bed unmade; empty glass of water on your nightstand; one curtain open will the other was drawn to the halfway point.

Wait a minute. You rubbed at your eyes with an uninjured fist. The bed. It was in a different position than you last remember. What you remembered was the long body pillow was across the top of the bed, against the headboard. It had been moved to be parallel with the long part of the bed. At first, you were on verge of freaking out. Your brain taking a few extra seconds to realize what that could mean.

One: someone broke into his apartment, acted like a complete fool, and slept in your bed. Or two: Mai slept in your bed, to probably smell your scent. You did leave without much of an explanation. The base called and you were shipped off that same day. A single message of you being safe was all you could get out to him. Mai’s probably searching for you or waiting close by. It all depends on if he found out what you were doing and where you were.

With a heavy sigh, you stripped yourself down to just your underwear. A chilling breeze washed over your skin, causing you to shiver. You simple tipped over and landed face first on the bed. The sheets were cool to the touch. A deep breath brought a faint scent of Mai to your noise. Your body relaxed completely at the scent. Next, you were out like a light bulb.

Through deadened sleep, the slamming of your porch sliding glass door snapped you groggily away. Your head shook to rid away some of the tiredness still within your bones. The blankets that once covered you had been kicked off sometime during sleep. You were on the verge of getting to check what had made that noise. That something had different plans.

The door to your bedroom was forced open, crashing into the wall. It probably left a mark that you could worry about later. Military or not, you were exhausted and currently in pain. You just stared through the darkness at what had made that noise.

Heavy, familiar pants could be heard before you. It took a long moment for you brain to realize what that could mean. In the meantime, the blob form standing in your doorway launched at you.

Large, calloused hands wrapped around your wrist from what you could feel. The heavy frame pinned you on your back, arms pinned above your head. Heat rolled over you. The calming smell of him filled your lungs. Something warm and felt like fingertips grazed over the naked skin of your chest. You didn’t fight, not just because of the exhaustion. No, it was due to the fact you knew who it was.

As you longed to bring the Yautja into a kiss, your arms were trapped. That’s when you finally noticed the pain burning in your right shoulder. “Mai, let go please. You’re hurting me,” you demanded and started to wiggle underneath the fully armored male. An extra added fifty pounds from his armor and biomask.

The Yautja reeled back his mighty head, tresses slapping against his armored chest. Then, Mai quickly lifted his body weight off of you. The air around you tasted strange. Not in a bad way. It unnerved him nevertheless though. Mai tilted his head, biomask scanning over your frame.

Multiple new injures, most fully healed. Where had you gone?! Then, Mai caught sight of something that wasn’t normal, that wasn’t there before. His hand grasped at the metal attached to your right arm.

It was cool in hold. The gears inside pitched a high noise as they moved within. Mai brought his face close and took in its smell. The skin on upper, inner mouth crinkled at the horrible smell. Not that you could see though with his biomask.

Since he had released you, you brought a hand up to his face and shivered at cold metal. “Take it off,” you ordered of him. Mai listened without hesitancy. The tubes connected to his biomask hissed as they were disconnected. It was ripped from his alien face thrown off to the side on the bed.

Without another second apart, you wrapped both of your arms around him. All of your strength was used to keep him like that. Not that Mai’tuiudh was complaining. Not with you in his arms. Instead, he buried his mandibles in the crook of your neck and licked. Mai groaned at your missed taste. Your last message to him had him… worried. A feeling that wasn’t very Yautja. That didn’t stop him from feeling that way without you being at his side.

To be honest, it felt like the fullest of hunting grounds with you in his arms. Your warmth against him; hearing your heartbeat; smelling you. He wouldn’t let you go, even if this position was making his back due to the strange angle and added weight.

Mai pulled his head back to stare you in the eye through the darkness. “What happened to you?” You knew immediately what he was reference towards and turned on the light on your nightstand. This lit up your newly marred skin to him. The scars were a fresh pink. Mai’s pupils narrowed down and scanned over them, hands coming up to stroke them.

“Careful, they’re still sensitive,” you said, sounding distant. The memories were still fresh but you didn’t want to think about them. Your hand carefully caressed a tress as a distraction.

Next, he motioned with his head towards your metal right arm. Before he could ask about that one, you beat him to it. “I’d rather not go into detail. Let’s just say I lost a fight,” is what you told him. You still couldn’t believe what had happened. Your arm gone. Missing. Replaced by metal.

Anger dribbled into Mai’s system as he stared down at you. “Why did you leave?” he hissed out and forced himself all the closer. You sighed, head falling to the side.

“I was summoned for an operation. It was sudden. I had little time to get ready, let alone send that message to you,” you explained and relaxed your sore arms. Mai changed his position. He forced your legs apart and shuffle closer, bottom of your thighs resting on top of his. His chest to yours, face reburied into the crook of your neck. A growl vibrated your ribcage.

Sharp claws bit into the flesh of your skin. The pain barely noticeable over the already existing one. “Worry isn’t something a Yautja feels.” Mai paused to somehow shift even closer into your body. “You made me worry if you were dead or alive. Don’t do that again.” He stopped again, the gears inside of his mind working. “You know what, you won’t be given an opportunity. You’re staying with me, all the time.”

“What?!” you shouted and wiggled against him, but unable to escape. “You can’t do that Mai! I have a life here, a job, all that stuff.”

It was like he wasn’t listening to you. “Mine,” he snarled into your skin and tightened his hold. There was a chance of freedom at the moment. You were stuck for better or worse.

#yautja #yautja x reader #yautja x human #yautja x you #yautja x #yautja x male reader #male predator #predator #alien vs predator #predator x reader #predator x human #predator x you #fluff #angsty #worry for reader #request

[electronic-elevator]

so I had a couple-hour drive today and would be arriving home to an empty house. so of course I was like. 👀 not going to NOT hold my pee

now like, I didn't think it was going to get too bad. I'd used the bathroom just before leaving, right? plan A was to play with myself until I had an accident

except. in about an hour. I was already in a bad way. I wasn't going to just waste the opportunity — after all, like I said, I'd be the only one home. If I had an actual accident in the car, well, whatever; I could clean it tomorrow. Plan B became "okay, well, it's going to be dark out either way. what if I wet myself outside? I've never done that and always wanted to." I figured I'd go up on my deck and do it there, giving me enough cover to be hidden even if a car drives by.

now, at the time, I might've called this "desperate." it was bad enough that I could roll my hips forward and feel that rush like I'd pushed down on my bladder. I pushed until I leaked, just to feel it.

luckily, I did NOT drain my water like I briefly considered, because it just got worse. I kept checking the GPS every two minutes like there was going to be some new, faster route opened up midway through. I was unable to pay nearly as much attention to Ｄistractible as they deserve.

and the thing is, though the once-fringe idea that I might have an actual accident was becoming more likely, I have literally never had a real accident. I'm plagued by an iron bladder, and somewhere between 40 and 20 minutes out, this starts turning to pain. and this is desperation -- it's not not pleasurable, because I do have a masochistic streak, but it hurts. I'm in a cold sweat. I've got a death grip on the steering wheel. I can't flirt with leaks anymore; I'm locked up tight because there's not enough of my attention to focus both on driving and relaxing. Plan C: I'll wet right outside my car. It's going to be dark, and it's unlikely that someone else is going to be around for those few minutes, and frankly? Fuck it. Who cares.

Past the 20 minute mark, I begin briefly but repeatedly considering Plan D (pulling over and wetting on the side of the road, then driving home like that). This would not be particularly safe, though, on a dark back road, and I quickly run out of back road and end up in town, where it would be perhaps indecent.

10 minutes out, I'm swearing under my breath. Genuinely, this is probably "driving impaired." I'm having genuine trouble focusing on the road. I normally would NOT do something like this, but again, I had NO IDEA I was going to get this desperate. I thought I'd arrive home with an urgent but completely manageable need, and now I'm clutching onto the handle above the door and praying for only green lights. I start to wonder if I'm going to leak, for real, which would be incredible. I can't sit still, but my squirming is super constrained because everything is locked up so tightly. I'm driving as carefully as I possibly can to avoid any startles or slowdowns caused by me being an idiot.

Then, though, I turn onto my road, and see not one, not two, but SEVERAL CARS of people. Somewhere in the recesses of my memory, the knowledge that my neighbor had a bunch of people over for the holiday when I'd left yesterday resurfaced. They were apparently still here, plus two cars at the (closed; they're security. there's usually only one, and only occasionally) business across the street. Lights on, running, clearly full of people. I cannot, or should not, wet myself in front of them.

I literally could not stand up straight. I grabbed my keys only and stumbled into the house -- and I honestly wish I could've just wet myself there, but again: things get locked up pretty tightly for me. So, ignoring the poor cats, I move as fast as I can (which is not fast) to the bathroom and stumble into the shower to finally piss. I can't turn the lights on, because the window shade is up, and so the neighbors could see in if I did.

and the PROBLEM is it didn't feel as fucking amazing as it should because I'd waited too long... but this was my first pants wetting in quite a while and I did enjoy it

Epilogue: Since the piss wasn't as satisfying, and bc I hadn't jacked it in a couple days ig, I was still horny af so (after an awkward half-clothed rinse off and actually carrying my shit inside and saying hi to the cats) I fucked myself with two (2) dildos and a vibrator until I came so much it looked like I pissed on the pad below me.

#mine #omorashi #IRL #I'm having celebratory pizza now (well. it's baking)

[jasonsthunderthighs]

I hate my twins partner

My twin has been with this bastard child for a year. NOTHIN good came from the relationship and I WISH I didn't take this long for ‘em to see this.

He stole 320$ from ‘em the day they got it from Mum (she sends us money for Christmas, I got my money, but runnin low cause of basically helpin my twin get food since their partner won't and just let my twin starve for days at a time and bills on my end) and gambled it away, not winnin ANY money from it.

He's done SO much more to my twin that I've said on other posts and this REALLY is the icin on the bullshit cake my twin has to deal with.

Also found out that he's now in jail cause he was caught speedin in a parkin lot and also had drugs in the car. That car was my twins car. Their ONLY way to get the fuck out of there.

And now they're stuck.

They can't even make it to Christmas with the family.

Me and others have told ‘em to sell his shit and use the money to get the car out and get the fuck out of there.

They want out. I'm goin to get ‘em out.

I'll do ANYTHIN for my twin. Especially to get back up here.

I just want my twin back up here and not miserable anymore. That's all I want for Christmas. ANYTHIN to get ‘em back up here so they can finally eat normally and do whatever they want.

I'm tired of this guy. My friends REALLY want to fuckin murder him and one of my friends said he's lucky they're on parole, otherwise he'd be FUCKED.

I want him out of my twins life and stop bein a fuckin man child who just steals, cheats, lies and gambles away money from my twin. He even got pissed off that I refused to send him 20$ to gamble it away.

I'd rather get ran over AGAIN than send HIM money that's not goin to help my twin. Fuck him and the couch he sits on.

Anyways, thanks to whoever reads my shit. I know it gets annoyin to read my rants instead of DC posts that I promised. I just can't focus on social media(s) at this point of my life with how shit is goin. My mental health can only take so much nowadays.

Thanks to those who sent me asks to check up on me. I'm tryin to stay afloat, but it's hard.

Thank you, Lyn (@scariusaquarius) for bein there for me and just bein am overall amazin friend and support even if we talk here and there. I hope to see you in the future and hang out like we've planned so long ago 💜

I hope everybody has a wonderful holiday and happy new year.

May 2024 be kinder to all of us who's struggled for the past three years 🖤

#this is just a rant #for anyone who cares #sorry for the tag Lyn #love you nerdwaffle 💜 #this turned from a rant to lighthearted positivity and wholesome at the end #sorry for the ramble #I need to shut up #shut up G #not dc #not dc related #personal #personal rant

[saturnsorbits]

Saturn! I would love to participate in your event!! For character either Bakugou or Shindou, whoever takes your fancy! We’ve been together a long, long time and we usually spend our anniversary on holiday somewhere far away from his hero agency so he can’t work😂 and I am so happy with angst, fluff or smut! Hit me with your best or worst😙💕

Jo! 💕

I love that you deliberately go somewhere that they can't work. Although, they 100% appreciate you forcing them to take that time to focus on what is really important!

Anyway, I hope you like it!

Happy Fucking Anniversary

-> Shindo + Bakugo; On Holiday; 1.5k.

TW: Fluff, Smut, Oral (M - Receiving), Rimming, Fingering, Praise, Degradation (Bakugo's a Little Mean), Suggested Threesome.

'If that's a news app there's no way in Hell I'm getting on my knees later...' You catch Shindo's eye in the mirror halfway through finishing your make-up.

'I was checking the weather.' Shindo shrugs, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

Cocking an eyebrow, you drop his eye to pluck a brush from your bag. 'You know, I bet even Bakugo wouldn't check his phone on his anniversary.'

'It's gone...' Holding up his hands in faux surrender, he chuckles. 'Don't need to leave for him just yet.'

You snort, glancing up again for just long enough to catch him wink at you. 'Yet.'

Leaning back on his hands, he let's his gaze drift down your body. Your dress is form-fitting, clinging to you in a way he knows, you know drives him crazy. He licks his lips. If he leans just right from where he's sat, he can peer over your shoulder and see the way your tits almost pour from the deep-cut at the front. Clearing his throat, he shifts on the bed and drops a hand to his thigh. The sight of you alone has him aching in his pants. The material of his jeans is constrictive, but does nothing to hide the bulge of his cock fattening underneath.

You glance back up when you hear him clear his throat. 'Really?'

Lifting his hips, he cups his cock and thumbs down it's length, showing you just how hard he is. 'Look what you're doing to me, sweetheart... You know I like it when you get all dressed up.'

Rolling your eyes, you try and hide the way you have to twist and squeeze your thighs together to stop the pulse of your cunt. 'We're not turning up late to another reservation.' Summoning all of your strength, you turn back to the mirror and try to ignore the way you can see him absently grinding against his own palm in the reflection.

He teases you for a moment, reveling in way your eyes can't quite seem to stop flickering to his cock, but his little game is drawn to a sudden stop when his phone sounds in his pocket. Your eyes snap to him in the mirror immediately, but he ignores it in favour of checking the notification.

'Are you taking the piss?'

'Huh?'

'That's a work message, don't act like I'm -.'

Quickly tapping out a response, he slips his phone back into his pocket and stands, crossing the room to you. Laying his hands on your shoulders, he brushes his thumbs across the back of your neck and bends down to kiss your cheek. ''m sorry, baby. I'm done, I promise. No more work...' He smirks into your skin. 'Just you and me, yeah?'

Stretching out your neck, you let him lay soft kisses across your pulse before shaking him off to apply your lipstick. You stand when you're done and pinch at the collar of his shirt when he slinks back to you, his hands immediately taking up post on your hips. 'I don't book holiday's half-way across the world just so you can work remotely, y'know...'

'I know. I'm sorry, no more phone – at all.'

Nodding, he has the decency to look sheepish when you fix him with a soft glare, but there's something else lingering underneath his expression that you can't quite put a finger on. 'Good.'

Biting back a smile, he has to remind himself to breathe when the annoyance finally fades from your features. There's something warm wriggling under his ribs that makes him feel giddy and light – something that, even after all these years, hasn't faded for a second. 'What the fuck did I do to deserve you..' He sighs, shaking his head.

'Cheesy bastard...' Warmth bubbles in your stomach, but he doesn't let you look away. Instead, he wraps a hand soft around your throat, fingers digging into your jaw as he pulls you in close and kisses you breathless.

He hums. 'Only for you.'

'No-one else would have you.' Giggling, you shove at his shoulder and snark, delighting in the way that adoration still floats easily in his eyes.

Shaking his head, he grabs at you and squeezes your ass, making sure you can feel his hardness against your thigh. 'Cheeky bitch.'

'I -.' Whatever else is primed to leap from your tongue is stayed, cut dead by a harsh knock at the door that has you both reluctantly reining yourselves in.

'Best get that.' Shindo steps back immediately.

You pause, eyeing him as suspicion crawls up your spine. 'What is it?'

He shrugs. 'Won't find out if you don't open it, will you?'

Flipping him off, you smooth down the crinkles in your dress before drifting to the door. You throw a confused look over your shoulder and then, you throw it open. 'Bakugo?'

Bakugo blows hot air out of his nose, his pupils almost blowing clean out as he shamelessly checks out the way your dress clings to your chest. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing as he manages, with some difficulty, to drag his eyes back up to yours.

A hand on your hip almost makes you jump as your brain whirs, trying to catch up with the situation unraveling in front of you. Shindo presses his chest to yours, his large palm coming round to circle your waist as he props his chin in the curve of your neck. 'Happy anniversary, baby.'

Half-turning, you step back with Shindo to guide you as Bakugo rakes a hand through his hair and steps into your hotel room. The door shuts. 'You got me... Bakugo? For our anniversary?' Every word feels strange as it slips from your tongue, but there's no denying the flickering of excitement that licks at the edges of your stomach.

'Only if you want him.' Shindo chuckles, already starting to trail kisses down your neck.

From the other side of the room, Bakugo barks. 'Oi.'

'So, baby... D'you want him?'

'I'm right here, you -.'

'Fuck. Yeah.'

Bakugo's mouth snaps shut immediately. He swallows loud, licking his lips as you finally lock eyes with him. His cock stirs in his pants when your lips part into a soft 'o' as Shindo's kisses cause you to moan and squirm. Rolling his shoulders, he steps forward and into your space, squashing you between the broad chests of both men. 'Shit... That lipstick of yours is gonna look real good wrapped around my cock, ha?'

'Her mouth is like heaven.' Shindo speaks over your head as you're slowly urged towards the bed. 'You're gonna lose your fucking mind.'

Sinking to your knees, you don't have to wait for long before Bakugo is stripping and his cock is being presented to you, hard and weeping. You lick your lips unconsciously, anxious to see just how much your jaw will ache after swallowing him down.

'You want my cock, Princess?' Bakugo bites his lip, gripping his cock at the base to angle it towards your face. 'Want it so bad your little boyfriend had to fly me out all special, ha?'

You nod, eagerly sticking out your tongue when he taps the head against your lips. Salt slips down your throat as you take the first inch into your mouth, you cunt drooling into your underwear as he rocks his hips and gives you more and more.

'Shit. Fuck -.' Bakugo admires the bright, red ring your lipstick leaves around the center of his cock, but before he has chance to roll his hips again, forcing you to take down more of him, the tight heat of your mouth is gone.

Popping off of Bakugo's cock, you sink lower and lower until your nose is buried in his balls. You nuzzle there for a second, licking and sucking at the skin, but before long you're moving off and sinking down again.

A low, throaty groan is bullied from his chest when your tongue slips over his taint. Reaching for you, he slips a hand around the back of your neck and growls. 'Dirty bitch, fuck -.' He bucks, stomach tensing as a blush erupts onto his chest. 'Ah, shit... You like that, huh? Like eating my ass?'

You moan against him and roll your tongue on puckered skin, wriggling, until at last you can open him up.

Behind you, Shindo sinks to his knees. He's stripped from his pants, discarding them carelessly in his hast to touch you. A broad palm skates down your back and hauls up your dress so he can cup your ass and toy with your clit over your underwear. 'That's it, good girl...' He coos, pecking at your shoulder as his fingers yank aside pretty lace and dip into your cunt. 'Look at you... Gonna make us feel so good, aren't you. sweetheart.'

Shifting, you gasp when Shindo's fingers brush against your G-spot, but before you have time to move away, Bakugo's there pulling you back keeping your mouth pressed to his hole.

'Nah-ah-ah, Princess. Wanna cum on that tongue... Then, maybe I'll fuck you.' He smirks, crimson eyes glowing as another growl rumbles in his chest. 'But, I'mma warn ya now. I'm not gonna be as nice as your pretty little boyfriend there.'

Another moan shakes your body as your cunt tightens, dripping down Shindo's fingers as Bakugo's cock drools onto your forehead. Already, you can tell it's gonna be a long night.

Happy fucking anniversary, indeed.

#saturnsoneyeardown

[annaphoenix1994]

Ch.90 - The First Stepping Stone

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

Baler has his first day of work; Kiera suggests a trip into town to make him feel at home.

"Good morning, Simon." Bud nodded at him while leaning against the panel that held up the round pen - a pen for working young or "problem" horses by experienced wranglers on the ranch. 

"Good morning, sir," Simon replied, looking over his shoulder to ensure Baler was on his best behavior, putting the decision in his head that Baler would have a much harder time earning his keep if he pissed off Kiera's father. 

Especially her mother. 

"I have a new stall cleaner for you." 

Bud arched a brow at Simon before looking at the roughed-up teenager before him - his clothes nearly tattered and stained by dirt and debris from his time homeless on the street. "A little young to be put on the payroll, huh?" 

"He won't be working for money, sir. He'll be working to earn his keep." 

"His keep?" 

"It was Kiera's decision I'm afraid." 

"Say no more. I won't get in the middle of that girl's decisions," Both Simon and Bud chuckled, Bud making eye contact with Baler. "Don't take advantage of her kindness, son. It's easy to lose her trust and twice as hard to get it back." 

"O-Okay-"

"That's not what you say," Simon warned in a low tone, slightly nudging his arm with his elbow. "It's yes, sir." 

Baler cleared his throat, "Y-Yes, sir." 

Bud flashed Simon a reassuring and hopeful smile, "What're you having him doing today?" 

"Cleaning stalls, maybe cleaning a few saddles, whichever I think might need done." 

"Will Kiera be coming down to join us?" 

"She said she will later," Simon replied. "She said she will in the afternoon when it warms up a bit." 

Bud nodded, "Alright. I reckon I get to oversee Johnny and Teeter today." 

"Best of luck to you, sir," Simon chuckled. "Where's everyone else?" 

"I have such a hard time remembering your comrade's names except for John, but they're all with him and a few other wranglers checking the fences in the upper pasture before we push the cattle up. You plan on coming with us when we do?" 

"I plan on it. This is my last week of work before my vacation time takes over." 

"Good to hear. You deserve a break." 

"Thank you. I feel like I need more time here to help out Kiera with the kids and around the house." 

Bud couldn't help but smile at Simon's response. A true man, he thought, appreciative of Simon's behavior towards his daughter, eager to see how much of a great father he would become throughout the years as well as being an important figure to Baler. Perhaps a father figure. "You'll be off just in time for Thanksgiving too," He winked. "Say, would you like to come out turkey hunting with me sometime before the holiday? Saw a bunch of 'em on the ridge. A big tom caught my eye and that bastard is big enough to feed this family twice for Thanksgiving." He explained. 

Simon chuckled, "Sure. When were you thinking?" 

"Well, I was thinking about going out tomorrow morning or this weekend." 

"I'll be off after Friday. Saturday morning?" 

"Sounds good with me. Don't make Kiera mad between now and then. She won't let you go!" He poked. 

Simon couldn't help but chuckle and shrug, "Nah, she's hardly ever mad at me. I've insisted on staying home so much to help her out, she wants me to go do things for myself." 

"I'll have to agree with her on that, son," Bud shrugged. "But I'll leave you to it with our new associate." He poked. 

"Exciting, yeah?" 

"Very," Bud chuckled, walking towards the hitching post his horse was tethered to, mounting up after adjusting his chaps. "Eva is making dinner tonight. You and Kiera should come. We miss our grandkids... Even though we haven't seen 'em in a day." 

"We'll be there." 

"W-What about me?" Baler dared to ask Simon as he escorted him into the barn. 

"What do you mean?" 

"The dinner? Can I come?" 

"Do you think you should?" 

"I mean... What else am I supposed to eat tonight if you and her aren't going to be home?" 

"Do you think you earn the privilege to join her parents for dinner tonight when you took advantage of Kiera's hospitality by trying to break into her truck in the middle of the night just to scout out the same advantage in the home of her parents?" 

"N-No?" 

"We'll see," Simon huffed, already knowing that he'd be toting along another dinner guest. "The decision won't be made until after your work today." 

"What am I doing?" 

"You'll start by cleaning the stalls that don't have a horse in them. Then, you'll pick out the stalls with horses in them." Simon explained, pointing to the wheelbarrow and manure rake that hung close by. 

"Can you show me?" 

"It's not rocket science, lad," He scoffed. "You go in there, pick up the shite with the rake, then put it in the wheelbarrow. That's it." 

"What do I do when it's full?" 

"You take it out that way and dump it in the pile." 

"W-Where will you be while I'm doing this?" 

"Don't worry about where I'll be," Simon arched his brow, knowing Baler only asked the question to get by as lazily as possible. Unbeknownst to Simon, Baler had only asked Simon this as he was beginning to worry about earning Simon's respect and trust, not wanting him to see Baler fail in a job that was supposed to be simple. 

Baler had never worked before and especially never had to be put into a position where he had to earn someone's respect in exchange for a better life. 

"Just focus on getting the job done. You have twenty-four stalls to clean." 

"O-Ok-" Baler gulped, watching Simon's brow arch as if he was waiting for a better response. "Yes, sir." 

"Better." 

*

Four hours later, Kiera greeted Simon at the round pen, smiling as she watched him work with his preferred horse on the ground to keep himself busy as well as increase his bond with the horse, thanking the gelding for keeping his mind distracted every time Simon swung his leg over the gelding's back. Horses really are good for a broken soul. 

"Turning into quite the horse whisperer, I see." She smiled, adjusting the carrier that was strapped to her torso, effortlessly carrying both twins at the same time - Jacob on her back and Evie against her chest. 

Simon looked her way after he heard her voice, receding his body language to inform the horse that he could break from a trot to a walk, the gelding licking his lips as he approached his handler, Simon petting him between the eyes before he walked towards the fence to meet Kiera, smiling as he leant over to press a kiss to her lips as his free hand cupped the back of Evie's head. "Always trying to better my horsemanship, love," He chuckled against her lips. "You're definitely mum of the year for toting them all the way down here by yourself. Although I wish you would've called me so I could come up and help you. Don't need you falling." 

She giggled, "This carrier is a life-saver. It definitely takes the strain off of my back. And, it's not so bad of a walk. Helps me maintain my weight." She poked. 

"Stop with that bloody nonsense," He warned. "I don't see a thing wrong with you." 

"Mhm," She giggled. "I brought you and Baler some lunch." 

"What'd you bring?" 

"Guess you'll have to find out," She smiled. "Where's Baler?" 

"In the barn. Your father wants us at the lodge for dinner tonight." 

"I'm looking forward to it." 

"What about the kid?" 

Kiera furrowed her brows at his question, "Uh... He was going to come with us?" 

"Okay." 

"What's going through your mind?" 

He huffed, "Are you sure you want him meeting your parents after the shite he pulled last night?" 

"Well, would you rather him stay at the house when nobody is home?" She arched a brow. 

"No." 

"I was thinking about taking him into town to get a new outfit. Do you want to go with me?" 

"I'd rather go with you," He sighed, knowing that he couldn't compromise with a decision she had already made. "I don't want you to have to worry about keeping up with our two and something happen with him. Not on my watch." 

"Okay, well have him finish up whatever he's doing and meet me back at the house." 

"How about you wait here and I'll escort you back to the house?" 

"That works. Then you two can sit and eat your lunch before we go into town." 

Simon nodded, leading his horse behind him as he walked behind Kiera, entering the barn and watching Baler hastily move to the side to let Kiera and Simon through. "Hi, Miss Kiera." 

"How are you, Baler?" 

"Working." He nodded, licking his lips of nervousness as Kiera and Simon together made him more nervous than just Simon alone. Even though Simon wasn't as suffocating when he and Kiera were in the same room, but Baler sensed a presence that he didn't want to interfere with. 

And that was the presence Simon presented when he and Kiera's babies were in the room. I wish my dad was as protective over me, Baler thought, frowning at the distant memory of never feeling loved and appreciated throughout his childhood. 

Kiera nodded as she began looking at the open stall doors, nodding her head in approval at the work he had done, leaving no manure behind as it was clear he was focused on leaving as much shavings behind with no manure left in the stalls. "I, um, I also refilled the water buckets after I finished cleaning out the stalls... I left the doors open so that he could check my work." He explained. 

"You did good, lad," Simon complemented, watching Baler nod as it was clear Baler had rarely received complements throughout his life. "How many more do you have left?" 

"S-Six, sir. The six being with the horses still in there. I-I was going to do them first, but I'm nervous around horses..." 

"That's okay," Simon nodded. "You're done for right now." 

"Sir?" 

"Let's go. We have to go into town." 

Baler nodded, wiping his palms against his jeans as he followed Kiera and Simon towards the house, nervously standing at the front door as he watched Simon help Kiera with the babies, watching how a soft smile spread across Simon's face as he held his son in his arms, watching as Simon seemed to turn off the switch of being a domineering and direct man turned into a soft and supple father, seeming to handle his children as if they were made of glass as he gazed at Kiera with loving eyes, seeming to appreciate her in every moment for not only being his, but being the mother of his children. 

It was then that Baler regretted coming off to a bad start with Simon. He didn't want to be rejected by him nor did he always want to fight for his trust and approval. 

"Um, Miss Kiera? Where are we going?" 

"We're taking you into town to get some clothes. You're coming with us to dinner tonight at my parent's house." She smiled. A mother's smile. 

"I am?" 

"You worked hard today for your first day. You've earned it." 

He forced himself to hide a genuine smile, "Th-Thank you." 

"You're welcome. We're going to get you a couple of pairs of jeans, shirts, and socks. Simon will go with you to get your basic stuff." She explained. 

"I am?" Simon questioned. 

"Well, I don't know anything about underwear and deodorant for boys." She scoffed. 

"You sure know about taking mine off." Simon mumbled under his breath, earning a playful smack to his bicep. 

"You keep that up and I won't for a while." She glared playfully, watching him roll his eyes at her remark. "That's what I thought." 

He smirked at her, gently putting Jacob into the car seat he had sat on the counter, using the overhead light to his advantage to ensure he secured him properly and to keep him off the floor as Kimber was notorious for trying to get into the carrier with either Jacob or Evie. "Can you help Baler get freshened up before we leave?" 

"How is he going to freshen up if he doesn't have a change of clothes?" 

"Well, there's an extra stick of deodorant and an extra toothbrush in the closet. When we get him new clothes, I'll show him where the shower is so he can get ready for dinner tonight." 

"Alright," Simon nodded, adjusting Jacob's carrier closer to the inside of the table to reassure himself that he wasn't too close to the edge while Kiera sat Evie into her carrier, smiling down at the infant as she adjusted the socks on her small feet. Simon gestured towards Baler, leading him towards his and Kiera's bedroom before putting his hand out and telling him to wait at the door while Simon proceeded into the bathroom and to the closet, returning with a stick of deodorant and a new toothbrush. "This is yours. Freshen yourself up before we go into town." 

"O-Okay. Where do I go to brush my teeth?" 

Simon sighed as he led the kid towards the guest bathroom that was within the hallway, hating the fact that it was next to the nursery, the primal instinct of not wanting Baler too close to his children until he earned his complete trust, knowing that it was going to take a lot of work to break down the wall of trust Baler broke down in the worst way possible. "We're leaving in ten." 

"Yes, sir." 

Simon nodded, returning into the kitchen to offer his assistance to Kiera. Seeing that she had secured Evie into her car seat, he smirked as he carefully wrapped his arms around her tender abdomen, pressing a kiss to the crook of her neck. "Been waiting to do this all day." 

She hummed in amusement, leaning her head to the side subtly to invite him for more kisses to her neck, "Sounds like he respects you more already." 

"He's nowhere near having my respect yet, he's just on a stepping stone." 

"I think he's growing on you." 

Simon scoffed in disagreement. 

"You say that now, but you know he's growing on you." 

"Like a weed." He joked. 

"I mean, I think he's growing on you like Soap did..." 

#simon riley #simonriley #simon ghost riley #simonghostriley #simon ghost riley x og female #simon ghost riley fanfic #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley x og female #simon riley x oc #ghost simon riley #simon riley ghost #simon riley call of duty #ghost mw2 #call of duty #callofduty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost riley #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost cod

[risingsouls]

🦎 + how have your holidays been?

A 🦎 for My Stupid Thoughts || Always Accepting!

[Aha. Honestly? Pretty rough. Could have been worse, I guess, but my family pulling some bullshit this year really just...ruined the season for me. If you don't want a long vent that I feel I need to get off my chest, stop reading here and know that my answer is basically could have been worse but not great. But I guess I'd you're curious about me really seeing very clearly where I stand in my family, feel free to read on.

So basically I'll start with this has honestly probably been a long time coming. The differences between me and most of my family, especially the particular clan in question (which, for reference, is basically my oldest brother, his kids, along with my older brother's girlfriend and his oldest son's girlfriend at least; a few other S/Os are newer to the mix, but im sure theyre getting the same bs fed to them as everyone else considering how they operate) have just become more and more glaring over the years. Whether that's politics and general human decency to basic shit like interests and just personalities not meshing. Shit you can generally most past but after a while and a few incidences in recent years (especially this year) I've just....decided I don't care to care any more. If their opinion of me is so low, I don't care to try and change it or entertain being around people who don't care for me.

I'll keep things reserved to this year because they're the most relevant. Back in July, we all went on vacation as a family. We've done it plenty of times before, and besides minor hiccups and one major moment of gross racism and just general bullshit that is probably what really opened my eyes to how this particular sect believes and operates (i.e. i called my older nephew, ill call him T for the sake of clarity, out for some racist comment but somehow i was the one that ended up the bad guy and bullied/laughed out of the cabin; i got onto my niece, I'll call her D, for acting like a horrible and entitled brat to literally everyone because her dad wasnt doing it and, again, i was the bad guy. Keep this pattern in mind), nothing unexpected took place on these trips. We moved on from the situations for the sake of family.

This year, however was just....too much. I'll start with the initial shit I knew on the ground and move into what I found out after concerning this situation. For this vacation, we were all renting a cabin at a lake for the week, something we've done plenty of times before and had a good time. Unfortunately, T's gf, A, had just gotten a new job, so they couldn't make it up to join us until Wednesday evening (we checked in Sunday night). Which was fine. We were happy they could come at all.

A few days before we went, me, my parents, and my brother (W) and his gf (C) were discussing vacation and got on the topic of deciding which rooms we wanted to some degree. It was decided that, since my parents, W and C like to get up early for breakfast, they would take the two rooms on the main floor. I asked if I could have one of the two rooms on the top floor because there would be a lot of kids around, I'm not the biggest fan of kids, and I just need my space in general from EVERYONE from time to time and didn't want to be in the basement where the kids were likely going to be most of the time (there was a TV, a pool table, and other like kid friendly features down there for them to occupy themselves). Everyone agreed that that would be fine so I was content.

Well, as shit usually goes with this family, that's not what ended up happening. W and C got there first and they decided to take one of the upstairs bedrooms. D and her boyfriend got there next and took the other upstairs room. So I was pissed about it because I had specifically asked for one of those rooms with W and C there and knowing what was going on. So when I confronted W about it when we arrived at the cabin, he threw D, his own DAUGHTER, under the bus for taking the other room when, in reality, him and C were the obvious problem here. I wasn't mad at D in the slightest and it made sense that they took the upstairs room they did because it had a pull out couch for her bf's kids. I didn't care about that. I was pissed at W and C who KNEW I called an upstairs room but decided to take it anyway. And I know this doesn't sound like a big deal, but, for context, this is what always happens to me, I'm guess because I'm single with no kids and am generally just quiet and keep to myself, even when I am upset about shit: what I want or even need is completely shoved aside to appease everyone else, and usually because it doesn't quite fit in with what someone else in the family wants to do. As I said, I usually keep quiet, but I did make it known that I was pissed off and just went to wait on the balcony for everyone to pick their rooms, saying I would just do like I usually did and take what was left over. Of course, I ended up in the basement and was constantly bothered by the kids when I was trying to have any time to myself. But I got over it and moved on.

On top of all this, that portion of the family was just....really hostile to me, my other two brothers, and my parents. For literally no reason. Some specific examples: W and C just basically avoided me the rest of the time, and they made it really awkward and apparent they didn't want to be around me or talk to me, even when I made the effort at civility. C acted like a child most of the time, including walking away from a conversation when my mom mentioned something miniscule about gun control (because that was what got brought up, and not by us btw) to refusing to help us clean up the day we left and basically just not talking to anyone on Friday when we all took the boat out on the lake. T and A got there Wednesday night and brought stuff for smores. That was the night I was sickest with covid and the next day didn't have the energy to go to an amusement park with the rest of them, so me, my parents and brother stayed behind. When they got home, T and W first bitched at my mom for the beer being gone (literally only my dad out of all of us was drinking that week, and he wasn't drinking throughout the day like they seemed to want to accuse him and the rest of us of) and then he and A bitched her more because the chocolate for smores was gone and they supposedly brought that "only for the kids." For reference, I saw only a bar and a half left from the night before that, no one told anyone it was just for the kids, and we were all under the impression that, like the rest of the food, we were all sharing all of it. And, compared to the few packages of full size bars they brought, we in no way pigged out while they were gone like they seemed to think and this really upset my mom for good reason as we literally did nothing wrong. These two were also just generally snotty the whole time over stupid little things like the fact that we didn't want to go to the amusement park for our various reasons, most of which was we were sick or just getting over the worst part of being sick, but I guess that didn't matter.

So finally it was all over and I couldn't be happier to fo tf home. However, I found out after the fact that D had cried the night we got there because she thought I was mad at her for taking one of the upstairs rooms. Of course, no one talked to me about it as it always goes and I felt horrible because I was in no way pissed at her (I texted her and let her know that, too, and explained what actually happened). But what was really telling and just really gross about that whole thing was that W and C were completely okay with not only throwing me under the bus to save their own asses but to also throw D, his DAUGHTER'S, ass under the bus and risk ruining my relationship with her just so they could appear faultless and get their way in this situation. They were okay make ME look like the bitch and asshole when I really wasn't at fault at all in that situation. But of course, that part of the family only got W and C's side of the story. Which is important for this more recent bit that really just cemented my discontent.

Fast forward to December. Every year, we do a little secret Santa gift exchange on Christmas eve in the evening. We discussed it on Thanksgiving with everyone and that's what we all agreed was what we would do this year. We even use a gift exchange app that I put all the info into that they could look at to see the when and what time at any point. Come about two weeks beforehand and T texts our group chat asking what day we were doing it, and that he and A planned to go to her family's party in the afternoon/evening on Christmas eve. I'm sitting with my parents at the time and we're all just kind of like seriously? We had this all planned. So I texted back saying we planned on doing it in the evening on Christmas eve like we always have. His response was a half asses excuse that they thought the fate set on the app was just a placeholder, and that he guessed they would make it by if they made it by. He also tried to guilt us by playing the "we have multiple places to go" card. I could tell my mom was upset about it even if she acted like it was fine. This is what literally all of them do when my parents try to plan a family thing: they treat it as what feels like an afterthought and/or the last stop behind everyone else every time. I know it hurts my mom, I've watched it my whole life since I was little and I had just had enough.

So, me being me, I confronted T about it. I basically said you know this is kind of bs because we've had this planned for a month now but you guys couldn't have worked around what was already planned and instead expect my parents to work around you all like we always have to do. I told him that it was really unfair to my parents and that he was hurting them, not me (as he seemed to think I was mad for ME) by not coming. Well he didn't like that and went off again about needing to go to multiple places--which I do get btw. He then had the audacity to bring up the vacation fiasco, throwing the room thing in my face and calling me selfish and a problem for making a big deal "out of nothing." Remember, he was not there when any of this took place nor did he ever ask me or anyone else about what happened, save for probably W and C. I basically ended the conversation there, telling him to stfu about shit he doesn't know the full story about and I just reiterated again that, by not coming, it's his grandparents he's hurting (who he claimed, BTW, were the only people he would come for at all), not me, and was done with it. To top it off, my dad talked to him the next day about it because they didn't want any hard feelings and to set T straight about what actually happened on vacation. T said he knew he shouldn't have brought that up and said he would text me to apologize. Guess what he didn't do? Unsurprising to me at least.

So I just basically said I wasn't doing the family Christmas shit this year. I literally sat in my room with the dogs and played pokemon. Was that petty? Maybe. But I didn't really want to he around any of them after all the shit they've pulled not only this year but throughout my life. Nobody asked about me while they were there. Nobody came to talk to me or wish me merry Christmas. Nobody cared that I wasn't there for the holiday (save for my parents). My younger nephew was literally the only person to ask me why I wasn't there and show any sign that he noticed when I came down after everyone left. It was just the nail in the coffin of confirming that I'm not wanted or liked when it comes to that sect of the family. They could literally care less if I'm around and it really showed this holiday season. It has made me even more eager to fucking move away from here and maybe never come back.

So, in short, as is probably typical, my family ruined my Christmas for me. I didn't get to enjoy my family like I would hope to because they suck. But maybe it's for the best. Its given me new strength to just do what's best for me and what I'm comfortable with rather than stomaching people's presence that I don't really want to stomach. And I know this is definitely like. First world problems when it comes to family because I know people that have SO MUCH WORSE grievances with family than me but...yeah. it comes down to I'm really just sick of certain members of my family treating not only me but especially my parents like absolute dog shit for NO reason. And no one ever says anything because ether don't want to cause problems. But I guess if no one else will, ill put on the bitch crown they've put on me anyway and stand up for myself and them. I'm just beyond done]

#.:ask:. #.:ooc:. #long post #sorry about the vent #its been festering for weeks so #oops

[magalidragon]

Hi bby, for the ask game.

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

🎃 Do you write fics for certain holidays? Which is your favorite holiday inspired fic?

Bonus (cause you know I'm greedy 🤭)

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

Thank youuu!

Because I know you love it. 🥰

Let’s do this!

🥺: Any interaction where Jon props up Dany and encourages her or supports her no matter what she’s facing. I get so emotional and want to scream 😂 I also have to say any time a bébé is involved with those two.

🎃: Hahaha easy answer— I LOVE holiday fics. Christmas, Yule, Hanukkah, Halloween, Flag Day….give me a holiday fic and I’m in Heaven. And my fav holiday fic? Really? We all know it’s “bad santa” 😂 Those beans are my fav.

🤲: Oh I wish I had more of a snippet to post but you know it’s been bonkers 😂😂😂 from “Priceless”, chapter 2.

"You're doing it wrong!"

"No, put it there!"

"That's not right, stop!"

Jon threw his hands in the air, irritated beyond belief at his ex-wife. He was just trying to <i>help</i> and here she was tearing apart the map, subjecting it to chemical tests and gods knew what else to see if there was something else hidden on it. They were going stir crazy to begin with, since it had been over a week since they set off for the search and were finding nothing near the coordinates that the map indicated.

He growled at her. "I'm trying to help you, so check <i>there</i>!" He jabbed linen glove-clad finger on the parchment corner, where they'd attached the newest piece to complete the map. Dany, on the other hand, was insisting on combing the upper corner that had already been studied, because she said any code would be there, based on past Valyrian maps with codes.

"You're not helping, you are in the way!"

The yacht stateroom they'd turned into a lab was too small for both of them and all the equipment she'd dragged onboard with her. He made a face. "Fine. I'm going to go dive, we're finishing the sonar sweep of the area."

Dany sniffed, returning to the map. "It won't be there."

He didn't disagree with her. The map was hiding something; he just couldn't place it. He stood beside her silently, staring at the bottom portion. He narrowed his eyes on the jagged tear that separated the map he'd grown up with; with the new piece added on. Dany had adhered it together via some sort of material, the lightbox it was placed on shining up through the thin paper.

Except it was darker there.

He pushed his glasses down from where he'd used them to keep his hair out of his eyes, zeroing in on that section. He ran his fingers on the corner, brow furrowing. After a second, he stopped.

He felt like he was being watched. And not like Ghost watching him when he took a piss or walked around naked.

Very slowly, he lifted his eyes, and spotted her. Oh, she was trying to hide it, but when he put his glasses on she’d paused, and started looking at him. He chuckled.

Oh Dany. Dany, Dany, Dany.

Jon was going to have fun with this.

#fic tease #writer asks #thank you bby!

[dzpenumbra]

7/2/23

Two more night cycles to go and then it's National Blow shit up to remind people of what the cannon fire sounded like when our adult males were getting blown to pieces trying to secure independence from greedy politicians who were excessively taxing their colonies Day. It's a good thing we still celebrate holidays for what they actually are. By getting piss drunk on cheap beer, watching people set off increasingly excessive amounts of fireworks, complaining about how we thought it was going to be cooler... or... about how they kinda overdid it... I honestly... I'm not sure what holidays are actually left that aren't religious holidays that still hold their actual meaning. That meaning... holidays which are still celebrated by the majority as they were intended. We have somehow managed to make literally every holiday revolve around work, money and material possessions. It's just upsetting.

Maybe I'm just hearing the loudest voices. I really hope so, I've been feeling that way for a while... like, I struggle to get out and shit because of crippling anxiety stuff, and that oscillates into the realm of agoraphobia sometimes... and most of it... I've been really feeling like it stems from just... hearing the loudest, craziest, most extreme voices. And those people being massively amplified.

I see the worst case scenarios, the outliers, and I just... assume that most people are like that. Why? Because I was surrounded by fucked up people my whole life and never knew it. It just feels like it's so rare that people are good, and kind, and generous, and selfless, and compassionate. Because that's been my personal experience. And I want so bad to believe that there is a decent percentage of good people out there, but my survival instincts... the clusters of neurological tissue hugging my brainstem that are trained to keep me alive and intact... they are pretty familiar with what happens when you make friends with wolves in sheep's clothing. So... it's like any social step forward can feel like not just a leap of faith, but a battle against my own reflexes.

I'll get there. In time. Again, I just need to build a bigger bank of good social experiences, and the mental fire alarm will start calibrating back to something a bit more live-able.

I am actually nodding off, I have no idea if I'm even making sense. It's super hot and humid, and late. And I did exhausting yoga and a big workout today. I started with dreams about my dog, which was hard. Then woke up right as my Instacart delivery was en route. The guy refunded half of my essentials - two bags of granola for breakfasts, and two bags of chicken for dinners... And I had zero time to figure that out because I was fucking asleep, he had already checked out, no replacements, just straight to refund. I'm still upset about that. So... I'm gonna have to figure that out.

But I went to get my food and had no problems at all. No anxiety, no stress, nothing. Just popped some gum so I didn't overwhelm anyone with morning breath and just did my thing.

I did a new yoga video, it was intense but it was nice. I did my workout, which was super intense. Lots of kicks, and my hips are just... not great. So... I did my best. But I'm definitely noticing a difference in my range of motion, which is good.

Showered, played Hades, made really good veggie burritos for dinner and streamed. I streamed Blender animation. It went... good at first, but I got to a point where I put the cart ahead of the horse and... now I have to redo probably about half an hour of work. Not the end of the world, but enough for me to be upset. I called it there, ended the stream and played Hades again to round the night out. No one came to stream again. I really need to do something about that. Again, I think social media is the answer, I just need to build a habit.

Here's an idea... I'm gonna be ending this journal in just over a month. I think, I'm not sure. It's weird, I've grown so used to doing this, it's hard to imagine not doing it. But... around new years, my goal became to do this for an entire year, every night. And I think the year mark is around August 22ish. So... maybe when I end here... I do blogging on my primary account - which currently has absolutely fuck-all on it. Maybe a bit less personal... and more... about life stuff? And things I'm learning, things related to my work, my research, skills I'm developing, shit like that? Maybe less therapy-type stuff and more... things directly related to pieces I'm doing. And I can just slot that in where my current journaling time is. So I can be steadily putting out stuff on my social media. I mean, I have a social media habit, you're looking at it right now... I just... I've been using it as a social experiment rather than actually attempting to connect with people. It's not a bad plan, it's something, I'll keep thinking it over. I really should keep journaling too though... so... that's a bit messy... Hmm...

So yeah, it can be a bit depressing streaming to no one. But I've been doing it for years now. It just is what it is. Honestly, it's much less pressure with no VoDs on. Then I only have to worry about people watching in the moment, not anyone who might be digging through my recorded streams. And I don't have to worry about any potential DMCA, even though I have my audio split anyway.

Anyways, it's getting super late so I'm gonna do tarot and call it a night because I'm actually nodding off... and I really just want to lay in front of my fan.

Past - Four of Cups, inverted (Apathy, disinterest.  Being offered gifts and opportunities, but being uninterested.) Present - Seven of Wands, inverted (Standing your ground, defending your position; often when heavily outnumbered.  Courage, strength, fortitude and aptitude.) Future - Six of Cups, inverted (Nostalgia, memories, past relationships.  Learning from and reconciling with the past, to create a better future.)

First one is a new one, inverted Four of Cups. But I vaguely remember this one from when I was studying the Black Tarot, my other deck. The Three of Cups is the party card, the Four of Cups represents the hangover. That's all I really remember about it, so... I'd guess... sluggish, recovering, not feeling well? I'll study it at the end of this and add it to my doc.

This is connected to inverted Seven of Wands. Damn, another new one. I could only speculate about this, so I'm going to leave it for now.

The final card is the inverted Six of Cups. I have gotten this one time before. I think it's... reflection? Reflecting on past experiences and learning from them in order to move forward? Cups are all about emotions... Five we got last night, it's grief/sorrow/loss. So, I see Six as like... learning lessons from the past in order to overcome grief and move forward.

Alright, let's learn us some cards, shall we? Welp, I was... pretty far off with my speculation on Four of Cups. Four of Cups is apathy, it's turning away opportunities and offers out of disinterest. So, I mean... in a way the hangover idea fits? Kinda? But it's more emotional than having overdone it and just not feeling well. And I keep getting flashes back to... what I call "past lives"... past incarnations of myself from my late 20's and even early 20's, when I would just... out-of-hand dismiss offers from people, kindness from people. Which, now? In this social drought? Seems ludicrous. And there is regret and shame attached so it's difficult to engage with, but that lack of emotion, that symbol, that action... I'm assuming that is what the card is referring to as a source, and that apathy really wreaking havoc on my life, and I was very well stuck in it for a long fuckin time.

Next is Seven of Wands. This one is kinda intense. It's having the courage to stand your ground and defend yourself when severely outnumbered. At first glance, it's weird that wands have so much conflict-related stuff (you'd think swords would be more about conflict) but wands are fire... so... that kinda comes with the territory. So the whole... kinda being stuck in dysfunctional apathy and aloofness thing... it led to situations where I really should have been standing my ground, setting firm boundaries, having pride and confidence in myself and my life... my new self and my new life. And... I didn't. I was blocked, I caved. I failed to have the courage many of the times, and when I did? It took a heavy toll. But throughout, I was very fearful, trembling.

This resolves in an inverted Six of Cups. Which is actually pretty super dead on, actually. Struggling to connect with my past, and because of that disconnect, struggling to learn those lessons accurately in order to be prepared for the future. In fact, on stream today, I was considering playing Corelia's album from 2012. It used to be one of my favorite albums back then, I even did vocal covers of two of their songs. And I really feel uncomfortable even thinking about connecting with things from the past a lot of the time. One, because it's a reminder that I'm getting old very quickly. Two, because... of what happened in-between? All the things I've lost? I don't know. It's a haunting feeling. Hard to put in words. Nostalgia has not felt good for me in a while, it feels like... like seeing a ghost. It's eerie and unsettling, and I guess I've been afraid of the memories and associations that come with it. Periphery III is a great example of that. That album has multiple waves of trauma associated with it. And soon... soon I will be able to reclaim it. But this inverted Six of Cups really screams that specific problem to me. Not being able to connect with memories in a healthy way, so... because of that... I struggle to shape a clear perspective image in order to feel safe moving forward.

Very powerful message tonight. My past apathy (both med induced and... upbringing/depression induced) led to a series of massive defeats after I reconnected with my emotions, and both of these have put me in a state where I struggle to put the lessons I was supposed to learn from the past into practice, because of the emotional minefield back there. Let's see if the placeholder card has anything to contribute. The Sun. Revelation, the road ahead, optimism, growth. After three inverted cards. XD How weird is it that the culmination of that message is a struggle looking at the road behind, when the context card - the card I use to hold my place in the reference book when looking up definitions - represents the road ahead.

Maybe I should try that album out tomorrow. Might be a good time to reclaim some of my past, and prove to myself that these are still beautiful things. Just because they were in proximity to painful things, doesn't mean they themselves should be associated with them. It's tough with music though, music resonates emotion with me so intensely.

Anyway, it's super late. Bed.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of thoughts #stream of consciousness