#Signal based-trading

[googleblogs123]

Market Analysis: Optimizing Forex Trading Strategies

GOLD – Gold prices have held steady, recovering slightly from previous lows. As traders anticipate a potential rate cut announcement this Thursday, we foresee a possible reversal, especially as the dollar strengthens. In this scenario, scalping trading systems may provide profitable short-term opportunities by capturing price fluctuations as momentum shifts.

The MACD shows weakened buying strength, while the RSI suggests overbought conditions, signaling weak momentum for further upward movement. This indicates a higher likelihood of continued selling, but traders can use signal-based trading systems to manage entry and exit points more effectively, ensuring optimized trades.

SILVER – Silver prices continue to decline, demonstrating strong bearish momentum. Analysts anticipate further selling, with the MACD and RSI both confirming continued downward movement. Using Forex risk management strategies, such as stop-loss orders, will be crucial in navigating this bearish trend.

DXY – The dollar shows slight easing ahead of the expected rate cut. Both the MACD and RSI indicate increased selling momentum, suggesting a potential shift. Market expectations for aggressive rate reductions next year have dimmed due to inflationary concerns, adding to market uncertainty. As traders analyze these shifts, forex trend forecasting tools can assist in predicting the future direction of the dollar.

GBPUSD – The pound maintains a bearish outlook, though both the MACD and RSI show signs of gaining bullish momentum. Traders can apply scalping trading systems to take advantage of short-term rallies while keeping an eye on the overall bearish trend ahead of upcoming rate decisions.

AUDUSD – The Australian dollar remains consolidated between identified key levels, with a lack of clear directional bias. The MACD suggests slowing momentum, while the RSI indicates neither overbought nor oversold conditions. Here, Forex risk management strategies are vital to minimize losses in this consolidating market.

NZDUSD – The Kiwi shows slight upward movement, but the MACD signals reduced buying strength. Despite the potential for short-term rallies, the broader trend remains bearish. Signal-based trading can offer traders real-time entry signals to capitalize on any temporary price movements.

EURUSD – The euro demonstrates growing bullish momentum. Supported by an increasing MACD and favorable RSI readings, the euro's upward movement looks promising. Forex trend forecasting techniques can assist traders in capitalizing on potential continued strength as the market reacts to Fed rate cuts.

USDJPY – The yen continues to weaken, with exaggerated selling levels despite minimal pullbacks. Both the MACD and RSI point to significant buying momentum. Traders awaiting the Bank of Japan's upcoming policy decisions can apply scalping trading systems to capture short-term movements while hedging against potential reversals.

USDCHF – The franc remains in consolidation, slightly below the 0.89431 mark. The MACD and RSI indicate growing strength for a potential continuation of buying momentum. Forex risk management strategies will be essential in managing the risks associated with potential breakouts.

USDCAD – The Canadian dollar shows increasing weakness against the U.S. dollar. The MACD is nearing a bullish crossover, signaling potential buying opportunities. Traders can leverage signal-based trading to track real-time data, capitalizing on upward movements and implementing Forex risk management strategies to protect their positions.

[bunnis-monsters]

Bee Hybrid Lore Pt 1

What do the bee hybrids look like?

I’ve had quite a few asks about this and I’m here to explain!

Firstly, with each new queen, the bee hive becomes more diverse and each new generation of bee hybrids looks different. So one generation may look wildly different than the other, while some may look relatively similar with little differences.

For the base bee hybrid that has only had bee queens; they have a somewhat human shape. Their eyes are big and bug like, their mouths always in a smile. They are colored yellow and black, and are fuzzy all over. Some have human like hands and some don’t!

They are usually more bee like than human, and some cannot communicate unless they send pheromone signals to their queen, so they can’t speak. But, they are still a human and bee hybrid, just more bee like. I’d say these are what a hive usually starts with, and it evolves from there.

The bee hybrids you reign over are very diverse! This is usually preferred in a hive, since there is only one female the males are expected to be diverse and provide quality eggs for the queen.

Your bees look a bit more human, most of them have hands and lips, can speak and know bits and pieces about human culture. Some are intelligent while others are your dumb little babies!

Saying this, bees vary in size. Some are as tall as 10 feet(possibly crossed with a giant mother) while others can only grow as tall as your waist. It all depends on who mothered them and which give they’re from.

There’s often trades with other hives for some of the queen’s best children to come and mate with other queens and join the hive. That’s how each hive has so many different types of bee hybrids!

Though, there are some hives that are strictly the base bee hybrid, and those hives are usually run by corrupt queens that refuse to trade their sons or take in any new males to add to the gene pool. This usually results in the eventually death of the hive, because new generations will inbreed with the queen and become unable to produce with honey due to deformities.

So the short answer is they can look a variety of different ways, so use your imagination!

What are some kinks they have?

Most of the bee hybrids are into breeding, lactation, sharing, and praise(giving and receiving).

They’re mostly into pleasuring their queen, and although they enjoy working, they’d rather be between your legs making your eyes blurry with pleasure at all times of the day.

You are their first human queen, so getting to explore your body and find out what makes you tick is very pleasurable for them!

What are they like?

Like with appearances, every generation of bee hybrids is different, but I’ll lost some common traits between them.

Every bee hybrid is extremely loyal and protective of their queen. For some maybe that’s their original queen, or maybe their mother or the one that’s taken over the hive and treated them well. Whoever they choose to be their queen, they will die for them.

Though some bee hybrids are extremely intelligent, a lot of the masses are a little dumb. Not stupid or anything, but not too bright either. They don’t understand some things from the human world and struggle with problem solving, so the more intelligent bee hybrids usually guide the rest while the others so easy repetitive tasks like collecting and making honey.

All bees have a big sweet tooth and can be persuaded into doing things for others if given something sweet to keep for themself in return.

The first person they protect is the queen, and the second are any of her eggs/hatchlings. They are fiercely protective of the queens young and will gather them up and flee after the queen has been taken somewhere safe during a dangerous situation.

Roles in the hive

Queen: this is the female that they have chosen to be queen. The queen can be of any species as long as she can incubate their eggs. She is seen as the top of the hive and if she dies, the hive will either die out or be in grave danger. Usually, queens try to have good relationships with at least one other hive so in the case of her death, her hive can merge with the other, thus saving her children and subjects. Many will die off due to depression and starvation because they are loyal to their queen and would rather die than be without her, but the ones that survive will be taken care of by the sister hive.

Princes: these are the sons of the queen. Some are traded/married off to other queens for diplomatic reasons. Since there is only one female per hive(the queen), more males are needed to help make the hive more diverse and to make sure no inbreeding happens. They are usually loyal only to their mother, and sometimes act as spies or assassins if need be. There have been cases where princes have fallen and love with their new queen and abandoned their mother, but it’s rare.

Princesses: these are the daughters of the queen. They are raised until they are old enough to leave the hive, then are sent out to start hives of their own. About 1 in 100 eggs will hatch a female, so the female children are both celebrated and feared. They are usually loyal to their mother as well, but will take care of their own hive and put their subjects first.

King: this is the queen’s official mate, who will provide more of her eggs than most. He is the one that stays close by her side, but the king has no power without the queen. If he crosses her, his status is gone and he may even be kicked from the hive or executed. The queen is not required to take on a mate, but most do.

Workers: these are the majority of the bees. They do the most important jobs in the hive and keep everything working. They protect the hive, attend to the queen, forage for food and water, build the comb, and so much more! They run the hive and make sure the queen is always happy.

Drones: if the queen does not have a king, their job is to be there to mate with her and fill her with eggs as much as possible! All the bee hybrids get a turn, but they’re the ones that fuck her and keep her belly nice and swollen. If the queen has a king, they’ll not fuck her as often, but their purpose is to mate with the queen, so that’s what they’ll do when the king isn’t able to completely fill her.

Baby bees: their job is to be cute and grow big and strong so they can take over the hive one day!

Typical day in the hive

In the morning, the queen is woken up by her attendants, stretched out with their fingers before whoever is next in line gets their turn to fill her with eggs.

While the queen is being mated, bees that are not getting their turn start to leave the hive to forage.

After being filled with eggs, the queen is bathed and fed honey, then given her breakfast. She’s taken to the nursery to attend to the baby bees and gets to choose what to do with her time until lunch.

Some days she has lunch with other hives and visits her sons, other days she walks around the hive and listens to the complaints and suggestions from some bee hybrids, and is often touched and felt up by her subjects.

Then she is mated again, usually the bee hybrids are unable to hold themselves back from mounting their queen when she’s just so pretty!

After that, she is given dinner and put to bed.

When she’s more heavily pregnant, she skips all of this and retires to her room after lunch and is pampered. They massage her, feed her, and just coo over her swollen belly.

Then she’s put to sleep, and the cycle continues the next day.

Want to know more? Send me asks and I’ll explain more bee hybrid lore!

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Been thinking about why the argument that OFMD is inherently a bad show because it's based on historical slaveowners so often feels disingenuous to me as a person of color.

HUGE disclaimer up front: if you don't wanna fuck with the show because of that premise right out the gate, that's 100% valid and I completely get that. I'm not talking about that. What I'm specifically talking about is White fandom people in particular who argue that OFMD must be "problematic" because of this, especially when they say this as some kind of virtue-signalling trying to win points in fandom wars, stuff like that.

My big thing is that the resemblance the characters in OFMD have to their real-world namesakes begins and ends with having the same name. The show feels more to me like it's playing with the vague myths around these names, not the people themselves. Can you make an argument that they should have come up with original characters instead? Sure, but let's be honest, even people who study the irl counterparts have very little knowledge of their actual lives, and the average person has all but none. To add to that, this show has absolutely zero interest in historical accuracy; the moment they cast a Jewish-Polynesian man as Blackbeard that became obvious. No one is saying the real-life Blackbeard and Stede Bonnet were good people, least of all the show itself; the point is that OFMD's versions are basically original characters already.

It always feels like an incredibly disingenuous claim to parallel the show to Hamilton, because Hamilton both did care about historical accuracy and also brought up the slave trade. Hamilton is uncomfortable for so many poc because it writes poc into the story of otherwise very faithfully portrayed racists, colonizers, and slaveowners and just handwaves the racism. In OFMD, racism exists, but the stance is always explicitly anti-racist and anti-colonialist in a way that is just so fun to see (whom among us has not wished to skin a racist with a snail fork?).

The other thing that sticks for me is...there's an appropriate amount of slavery I want to see in my romcoms, and that amount is none. I am so sick of historical fiction where Black characters are only there for trauma porn about the horrors of the slave trade. You can make a legitimate argument that OFMD is handwavey about the slave trade, but I'd argue that including discussion of the slave trade is something that should be done with such incredible care that it would leave us with a show that can't really be a comedy at all anymore. OFMD's characters of color are allowed to be nuanced, complex characters with their own emotions, and it's incredibly refreshing to see, and I'd much rather have that than yet another historical fiction show where the only characters of color are only there to make White audiences feel virtuous about how sad they feel for them.

In conclusion, I guess: every yt person who makes this argument to win points in a fandom war owes me and every other fan of color a million dollars

[furryrun]

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[metamatar]

When electronics manufacturing took off in China in the 1980s, rural women who had just begun moving to the cities made up the majority of the factory workforce. They didn’t have many other options. Managers at companies like Foxconn preferred to hire women because they believed them to be more obedient [...]

Hiring a young, female workforce in India comes with its own requirements — which include reassuring doting parents about the safety of their daughters. The company offers workers free food, lodging, and buses to ensure a safe commute at all hours of the day. On days off, women who live in Foxconn hostels have a 6 p.m. curfew; permission is required to spend the night elsewhere. “[If] they go out and not return by a specific time, their parents would be informed,” a former Foxconn HR manager told Rest of World. “[That’s how] they offer trust to their parents.”

[...] the Tamil Nadu government sent a strong signal welcoming Foxconn and other manufacturers: Authorities approved new regulations that would increase workdays from eight to 12 hours. This meant that Foxconn and other electronics factories would be able to reduce the number of shifts needed to keep their production line running from three to two, just like in China. [...] Political parties aligned with the government called the bill “anti-labor” and, during the vote, walked out of the legislative assembly. After the bill passed, trade unions in the state announced a series of actions including a demonstration on motorbikes, civil disobedience campaigns, and protests in front of the ruling party’s local headquarters. The government shelved its new rule within four days.

Indian Foxconn workers told Rest of World that eight hours under intense pressure is already hard to bear. “I’ll die if it’s 12 hours of work,” said Padmini, the assembly line worker.

For the expatriate workers, the slower pace of the factory floors in India is its own shock to the system. A Taiwanese manager at a different iPhone supplier in the Chennai area told Rest of World that India’s 8-hour shifts and industry-standard tea breaks were a drag on production. “You have barely settled in on your seat, and the next break comes,” the manager lamented.

In China, Foxconn relies on lax enforcement of the country’s labor law — which limits workdays to eight hours and caps overtime — as well as lucrative bonuses to get employees to work 11 hours a day during production peaks [...] five Chinese and Taiwanese workers said they were surprised to discover that their Indian colleagues refused to work overtime. Some attributed it to a weak sense of responsibility; others to what they perceived as Indian people’s low material desire. “They are easily content,” an engineer deployed from Zhengzhou said. “They can’t handle even a bit more pressure. But if we don’t give them pressure, then we won’t be able to get everything right and move production here in a short time.” [...] At the same time, the expat staff enjoy the Indian work culture of tea breaks, chatting with colleagues, and going home on time. They recognize they are helping the company spread a Chinese work culture that they know can be unhealthy. [...]

On the assembly line, Foxconn’s targets were tough to reach, workers said. Jaishree, 21, joined the iPhone shop floor in 2022 as a recent graduate with a degree in mathematics. (With India’s high level of unemployment, Foxconn’s assembly line has plenty of women with advanced degrees, including MBAs.) [...] “At the start, during my eight-hour shift, I did about 300 [screws]. Now, I do 750,” she said. “We have to finish within time, otherwise they will scold us.” [...]

Mealtimes are an issue, too. In December 2021, thousands of Indian Foxconn employees protested after some 250 colleagues contracted food poisoning. In response, the company changed food contractors, and increased its monthly base salary from 14,000 rupees to 18,000 rupees ($168 to $216) — double the minimum wage prescribed by the Tamil Nadu labor department for unskilled workers. [...]

Working conditions take a physical toll. Padmini has experienced hair loss because she has to wear a skull cap and work in air-conditioned spaces, she said. “Neck pain is the worst, since we are constantly bending down and working.” She has irregular periods, which she attributes to the air conditioning and the late shifts. “[Among] girls with me on the production line, some six girls have this problem,” Padmini said. Workers said they regularly see colleagues become unwell. “The day before yesterday, a girl fainted and they took her to the hospital,” [...] Padmini, at 26, believes she is close to the age where the company might consider her too old. “They used to hire women up to age 30, now they hire only up to 28,” she said.

[seat-safety-switch]

Rich people: Scrooge McDuck is not supposed to be a role model. That motherfucker got his money from the diamond trade, and we all know what that actually means. Best to simply ignore what he's doing entirely. Especially since I'm about sixty percent sure that jumping into a bank vault full of coins like it's a swimming pool will actually break your neck. And then you'll look really stupid at the hospital, explaining to the cute nurse that you are so rich that you hurt yourself with your own money.

Another, better, way to hurt yourself with your own money is a car collection. Lots of rich folks are getting into it: buy a bunch of cars, put them in a room, and then look at the cars instead of ever driving them properly. That's boring, and it's not least so because the rich people have no taste. Who wants to go see another 2024 Ferrari F-seven-billion when they could instead see a 1986 Wartburg 353? Nobody, but I bet you'll never find a billionaire with one of the latter. Like I said, tasteless.

If you're super-rich, a little bit amoral, and willing to completely subserve your judgment (and power of attorney) to a greaseball with taste, I'm your guy. For just a few million dollars a year, I'll travel the world on your behalf, buying the most fascinating shitboxes in existence and commissioning the world's finest artisans to do immaculate restorations of them. I will, however, laugh in their face as an exotic Italian carrozzeria with hundreds of years of history is forced by the mass of cash involved to create all-new turn signal lenses for an extremely high-mileage base-model Fiat 600.

How can you turn that offer down? You can't. Even Scrooge McDuck couldn't, if he were real and not being controlled behind the scenes by his "sailor" so-called nephew, Donald. It's your turn to prove that a pantsless mallard doesn't secretly control your empire, by paying a sometimes-pantsless human a whole shitload of money to go buy a beater or two for you.

[bet-on-me-13]

Oliver Adopts Danny

(Note: I have no idea what exactly happened on the island and made up my own thing. Also I had no plan when making this and it shows)

...

So! When Oliver landed on that Deserted Island, he wasn't alone.

On the Island, there was a Little Kid.

He was about 7, and he was just as confused as to why he was there. Apparently he had been sleeping at home when all of a sudden he felt himself falling, and seconds later he hit the ground in the forest. He couldn't remember anything past that, or really anything before that as well. He had seemingly lost his memories.

So, Oliver was stuck helping a Random Kid while trying to survive on the island.

He did learn that the Kid was a Metahuman with the ability to make Unmelting Ice, but the kid seemed disappointed by his powers. It was like he expected them to be stronger than they were. When asked, he said that he didn't actually know why he felt that, like it was something else he had forgotten.

And that was how the situation stood for a few years. He and the Kid, who he eventually learned was named Danny, became closer. He took up a paternal role in the kids Life, trying to keep him safe from the dangers of the island.

Danny was also a huge help on the island, his Ice was useful during Hot Nights, and the fact that it was Durable and Didn't Melt made it a good material for their tools. He also knew a lot of random skills, like the basics of how to shoot a Bow and how to set up a Campfire.

By the time they had been there for 3 years, Oliver already saw Danny like a Son. He had decided long ago that when they finally left the island, he would adopt him.

Then, on the 4th Year, Oliver found something strange. There were tracks in the Dirt on the less explored side of the Island, Human Tracks.

Following them, he found the source, An Illegal Slave Trading Ring.

The Base seemed to be new, so they had probably set up shop a few weeks ago at most. He and Danny must have missed them because they didn't usually go to that side of the Island.

He returned to the Camp that night and contemplated what to do.

It took another few days for him to resolve himself to go and save those people.

It took another few weeks to prepare himself.

It took less than 30 minutes to get the Job Done.

By the end of that night, every Slaver on the island was Dead, and the slaves were set free. They still didn't have a way off the island, since a few of them had managed to sabotage the boat before they died, but Oliver and Danny were there to help them.

By the 5th Year, they basically had a Small Village set up back there their Camp used to be. It was a community of all of the people Oliver had managed to save that night, all working together to survive on that Mysterious Island.

Then one day, finally got some luck. A Fishing Boat had gotten lost on their usual Route, and had spotted the SOS Signal that they had set up on the Beach.

After that it didn't take long for everyone on the Island to be saved. Oliver asked the former slaves to keep his heroics a secret because he wanted to keep him and Danny safe from the press, and they all agreed.

So, Oliver went home and adopted Danny.

He also decided to become a Vigilante.

And then eventually he joined the Justice League.

And one day while showing his son around the newly build Watchtower he ran into Constantine, who then proceeded to ask "Why the hell do you have a mini-death god holding your hand?"

...

I have no idea what this was supposed to be. I wanted Oliver to adopt Danny, and I wanted it to be on the Island, but I had no idea how to do it.

My basic idea for it is that Danny accidently wished for a Good Dad one day and Desiree heard him. So she turned him into a Kid, sealed away most of his Powers, and sent him to the Island with no memories past age 7.

Maybe this was "Ghost King Danny"?

Idk, I like it more as "King Danny who rejects the Throne but is still basically the leader because he keeps helping people no matter what" but that's just me.

Thoughts?

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 1: A SILENT DOG & STILL WATERS

synopsis: the soviet union has been producing robots for a long time based on a miracle compound: polymer. but that was invented in 1941. the current year is 2038, and, due to rising tensions in the arctic, americans aren't as kind to soviets as they once were. it's too bad you're a russki, and it's really too bad that you work in cybersecurity. and honestly, with the case fowler has put you on, you're at risk of losing your job. it doesn't help that you're stuck with lieutenant hank anderson and some new android apparently called connor.

word count: 2.6k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: based on an au i literally had a dream about. it's basically d:bh with elements of atomic heart :P this ch. is half exposition and half hank being an alcoholic lolololol

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

The Soviet Union had always been very good at spying on and stealing American technology. They did so with the atomic bomb, the B-29 superfortress, and the space shuttle – with no lack of effort on America’s side of trying to keep them secret. 

But one thing set the USSR above the rest: polymer. A miracle compound that formed the backbone for every technological evolution that came after. It mimics a human neuron, including its ability to interpret input signals. With tinkering from top Soviet scientists (and a whole lot of luck), a gigantic neural network was established, the maximum computing power of which was orders of magnitude higher than the power of a conventional network.

With polymer, the Soviets reigned supreme as the only real international superpower. The other countries could play at being powerful, but the USSR was top dog – and she wasn’t keen on letting the others forget.

But that was in the past. And the past is boring. That was in 1941, and something you learn about in history class. Polymer is now regularly sold and traded and built upon and shared. After the Cold War ended, it was expanded outwards and is no longer a precious commodity. It was even needed to build a modern technology – androids. Ones that could pass the Turing test, unlike the TER-A1 Tereshkova (which was a human-looking robot, sure, but one that had an unsettling, unmoving mask for a face). 

And androids are simply better than Soviet bots. They’re versatile and able to be mass-produced without specialization development. They’re not big and clunky like the chimpanzee-esque MA-9 Belyash and can still accomplish the same installation, plumbing, and welding work. They can do the same agricultural work an ARU-31/6 Rotorobot can do without the risk of accidentally endangering humans while in use.

Again, they’re simply better. In the current year of 2038, American androids just trump similar Soviet tech in every way.

But that doesn’t mean that the Soviets aren’t still trying. They’ve invaded the Arctic with intent to claim the land, heavy with NA-T256 Natasha bots and the claim that the “heavy-duty ground-based loader bots can squeeze up to five liters of blood from a human body in under twenty seconds,” as a deterrent to American forces.

And this action has made your workplace a hell away from home.

Even though you immigrated from Chelomey, Russia to Detroit, Michigan in 2027, before all this business went down, people still eyed you warily – like you secretly enjoyed living under communism and the ever-watching eye of the Kremlin. Like you were just itching to get your grubby little paws on American secrets so you could report them to Comrade Molotov and a beautiful girl back home called Katya. Yeah, right.

These small, under-the-breath and glance-of-the-eye accusations weren’t helped by your current occupation: as a screen jockey for the Head of Cybersecurity of the Detroit Police. They acted like you hadn’t worked just as hard as everyone else for your position – for your polymer glove and the privileges that came with it.

Polymer gloves have come a long way from their prototype in 1955. They’re a single fingerless glove – one glove, as a person doesn’t need two – with an adjustable wrist strap. In the middle of the palm is a small silver star that can retract to expose prehensile, tentacle-like wires that can interface with terminals and other technology. 

But it doesn’t stop there – with a single gesture (holding your hand out and making an “L” shape) the glove can scan the surroundings of the user. Paired with an artificial polymer retina, the user can have information about the environment that they otherwise wouldn’t have. 

And, of course, you’re outfitted with the top versions of both – on the precinct’s credit card, obviously. 

But, again, you’re just a screen jockey. One of the best, but still just a worker bee that reports to a higher-up. There’s little to no interaction with the other departments, as cybersecurity is mostly isolated without any related crimes. Maybe cyberterrorism, but cases of that are few and far between. 

And you thought that’s all you’d ever be until you heard Fowler’s bellowing voice call your last name.

When you pop your head up from behind your terminal, you see him standing halfway through the glass door to his office. You swallow and trot over, a nervous idea tickling the back of your mind. Is he mad? Did you do something wrong? Shit… did you accidentally leak something?

You push open Fowler’s door and slowly shut it behind you. He’s sitting behind his desk, stark against the blue-grey backdrop of the wall behind him. His constantly furrowed brow and permanent frown lighten a little when he sees you.

You fold your hands behind your back politely. “Yes, sir?”

Fowler gestures to the seat in front of his desk. “Go ahead and take a seat.”

Oh, fuck. Oh, shit. You definitely did something wrong.

You walk over and sit in the chair. It screeches with a horrible sound.

You lean back in the chair and cross your arms. “What is this about, sir?”

Fowler leans back in his chair and drags a hand down his face. Immediately, the worst things pop into your head. You fight the urge to worry your bottom lip. 

“You have experience with androids, yes?” Fowler asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question – rather, a statement.

“Yes, sir.” You nod.

“And you have experience with Lieutenant Hank Anderson?” 

Your eyebrows furrow a little, but you still nod. “Yes, sir.”

Fowler turns to his terminal. “How do you feel about him?”

You bite your bottom lip as you think, then let it slip from your teeth. “I don’t know what you want me to say. He’s my friend. He is still a valuable member of the force, even if he has presented a few problems in the past couple of years.”

Fowler laughs. “A few?”

“Ah…” You smile, but it’s a bit forced. “More than a few. A lot. More problems than solutions, if I’m being honest.”

“That’s just how it goes sometimes.” He shrugs and sighs. “Do you know about the new case he’s been assigned?”

“Yes, sir,” you say. “He won’t shut up about it.”

He hums and leans forward, resting his chin on folded hands. “Always one for discretion, that one.”

You duck your head, instead looking down at your lap. “Yeah. But I think he can do better – be the cop he was before.”

“An optimistic Soviet.” Fowler laughs lowly. “That’s a new one.”

You just clench your jaw and meet his eyes. “What is this about? If you’ve called me in just to poke fun at me and gossip about Hank, I’d like to go back to my desk. Uh, sir.”

“No, no.” He holds a hand up. “Tell me what you’ve heard about Hank’s case.”

You think for a second. “Deviant androids murdering their owners. It sounds like it would’ve been labeled self-defense if it was a human-on-human crime, but…” you shrug. “I’m not in Homicide. I’m in Cybersecurity.”

“Well, you’re getting some experience.” Fowler pulls a cord from his terminal, one you recognize as a port compatible with a polymer glove. “You’re on the case.”

“I’m on the case?!” You repeat in disbelief. “Sir, I – I don’t –”

He holds up a hand for the second time. “I don’t want to hear it. You’re the best screen jockey with the most field experience I can spare.”

He gestures with the cord still in his hand. “Now, c’mon. Jack in and download the files.”

You swallow your objections and outstretch your gloved left hand. The thin metal of the star retracts, and the prehensile wires extend towards the port, waving like blades of grass. The ends of all six find their homes in the port, still wiggling like black tapeworms. 

Documents appear in the corner of your eye, one after another, like pop-up ads. You blink hard to dismiss them, then disconnect.

Fowler feeds the cord back into his terminal, then leans back in his chair. 

He looks over at you. “What’s that one saying you Soviets say? Something about champagne.”

You look up at him, then down to your glove. The star retracts, then goes back to its original position, like it was winking at you. “He who doesn’t take risks won’t drink champagne.”

“Well, I hope you have a taste for harder liquor,” Fowler says. “Hank’s at having a drink somewhere nearby. Go find him.”

And Lord, did you know right where to find Hank. 

On the door to Jimmy’s Bar is a firm warning, reading: NO ANDROIDS ALLOWED – OWNERS WILL BE PROSECUTED. You just hope that they don’t extend the same kindness to russkis. 

When you open the door, everyone in the bar turns to look at you. You nod and, once they see who you are, turn back to their conversations or nursing their drinks. 

You spot Hank at the bar with what looks like a Tennessee whiskey. You sidle up onto the barstool next to him, easing into the creaky seat. As you drape your rain-speckled coat on the back of the chair, you glance at the clock on the wall. It reads just before twenty past eleven.

“Bartender?” You call. Your thick accent immediately catches his attention, and so does the money you slide onto the bartop. “Vodka, please.”

The bartender, presumably Jimmy, picks up a bottle of Stolichnaya from the shelving behind him. “This good?”

You nod. “More than good.”

He pours vodka into a tumbler glass, then pushes it across the bar. You accept it readily, and the tiny sip you take gives your throat a nice burn on the way down.

“A Soviet and vodka,” Hank mumbles against the lip of his glass. “Like a moth to a flame.”

“It’s what my mother served with dinner,” you say. “I’m just glad Jimmy’s got enough sense not to keep us from his bar.”

Hank chuckles and raises his glass to that.

“Fowler’s gone beyond the pale.” You sip at your drink. “Have you heard?”

“Yup.” He sighs, setting his drink on the bartop harder than necessary. “Don’t know why a kid like you has business with an old timer like me.”

“Oh, believe me,” you say, your voice heavy with sarcasm. “It’s nice to visit, but it’s better to be home. I don’t know what he’s thinking. A Cybersecurity worker partnering up with someone in Homicide? Next, we’ll have androids doing our thinking and philosophy instead of our laundry and dishes.”

Hank snorts into his drink. “Hell, with all these runaways? They might as well be.”

“I mean, I can see his line of thinking.” You swirl the vodka in your glass, watching the way it catches and reflects the low light of the bar. “Cybersecurity, androids… makes sense, but me? A russki? With all that’s happening in the Arctic? If we don’t do well, my job is on the line.”

Hank sips his whiskey. “It really sounds like Fowler’s settin’ you up to fail.”

“Setting us both up to fail.” You correct and mirror him, sipping at your vodka. 

The sound of the door opening and the rain outside cuts into your conversation. Nothing you’d usually take a glance at, but what puts you off is the sudden silence of the bar. Bars shouldn’t be silent – especially not Jimmy’s.

You look over your left shoulder and see a nice looking man that’s just walked through the door. He looks a bit dorky, sure, and a bit like a lost puppy dog, but that could look nice on certain guys. And the asymmetrical tuft of loose hair that’s escaped his hair gel looks –

There’s a blue triangle just above where his left breast pocket would be. On the other side of his blazer reads RK800 in even, white text. He’s an android, not a man. He meets your gaze and you inhale sharply.

Your eyes return to your drink, and so does Hank’s. This isn’t what you want to deal with right now – or ever, actually. It’s Jimmy’s establishment, so it’s Jimmy’s problem.

But still, as soon as the android saw you, he started making a beeline for you. His footsteps are quick, measured, and even. 

“Excuse me,” he says, putting a hand on your shoulder. He addresses you by your title, and your gut clenches.

“No.” You try to wave him off. “No English. Sorry.”

“Officer, you passed each of your TestEaFL’s with flying colors,” he says, narrowing his eyes a little. “You can speak English perfectly fine.”

You cringe a little, but then a thought strikes you – how would this android have access to the scores of your Test of English as a Foreign Language? But before you can ask, he’s turned to Hank and started speaking.

“Oh, Lieutenant Anderson.” He moves so that he’s standing beside Hank. “Just the other person I was looking for.”

He glances between the two of you. “My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife. Captain Fowler said that you were both having a drink nearby. I was lucky to find you at the fifth bar.”

You snort and your eyebrows shoot up. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that there was a hint of… something other than monotone indifference in his voice.

“What do you want?” Hank grinds out.

“You were assigned a case early this evening. A homicide, involving a CyberLife android.” Connor glances at you, like he’s reminding you that you were also assigned this case. “In accordance with procedure, the company has allocated a specialized model to assist investigators.”

“Well, I don’t need any assistance.” Hank jabs a thumb at you. “I’ve got all the unwanted assistance I need right here, and I don’t need any more. ‘Specially not from a plastic asshole like you. So just be a good lil’ robot and get the fuck outta here.”

“He’s right,” you chime. “And it doesn’t really look good to have androids investigating androids. What if you snap, too?”

“I will not.” Connor meets your eyes, and you can almost see the switch flick in that little android brain. Great, now it’s your turn to be grilled.

He circles so that he’s standing beside you and leans down a little, putting his hand on the bartop. You keep your eyes down, firmly on your drink. 

“I’m sorry, Officer, Lieutenant, but I must insist,” he says. “My instructions stipulate that I have to accompany both of you.”

“You know where you can stick your instructions?” Hank chimes in with a throaty laugh.

You glance over at Connor, who looks thoroughly confused. You smile and bring the glass to your lips. 

“No,” Connor says. “Where?”

Your throat seizes around the sip of vodka you were trying to take, causing you to cough it out as you try to suppress your laughter. You slam down the glass (effectively spilling most of it) and bring a hand to your chest, trying to ride it out as Hank pats your back.

“чёрт возьми!” You wheeze, your voice hoarse. Your chest burns. “Oh, fuck.”

You wipe your eyes as the burn dulls, still coughing slightly. Connor purses his lips before coming to a conclusion. 

“You know what?” He offers. “I’ll buy you both one for the road.”

“You better,” you say. “You made me spill mine.”

“Bartender!” Connor calls, and slips money onto the bartop. “The same again, please.”

“See that, Jim?” Hank says. “Wonders of technology. Make it a double.”

Jimmy pours a healthy amount of Jack Daniels into Hank’s glass, and starts to pour Stolichnaya into yours. You cut him halfway with a raised hand and a “Someone’s gotta drive us home safe.”

You knock back your drink, then let out a low whistle at the nice burn. Hank follows soon after and sighs heavily. 

He leans back and looks over at Connor. “Did you say homicide?”

[live-love-be-unique]

Crossing All The Lines

Summary: Callsign: Tink. Brought into the taskforce as a hacker/ intel specialist, you butt heads with your captain.

#47. Reader is a hacker or intel specialist for @glitterypirateduck O,Captain! challenge

Also, inspiration for a chubby reader and the death of a certain Austrian from @391780, Early I hope I did you proud.

Parings: Price x chubby f reader

Warnings: Idiots in love, female reader, smut with some plot, oral (f!receiving), vaginal sex 18+ Minors DNI

“It’s your eye in the sky, so to speak” you said, holding the small drone you had been tinkering with before he had walked into your office. You animatedly showed off the newest toy you had been tinkering with, pointing out the features you had added “it has the capability to record and store six hours of audio and video. I’m working on the signal range to extend…”

Price reached over the desk and turned off the screaming you called music that was blasting through your computer speakers “I’m not taking some flying toy into a war zone” he said with finality. Laswell’s recommendation be damned, he didn’t need some little dolly bird tottering around the base in ridiculous shoes telling him how to run his taskforce.

“Oh ok, so will you be letting Gaz know you’re planning on pitching him out the side of a helicopter again to run surveillance or am I?” you say, casting him a smirk over your shoulder as you place the drone on the shelf behind you. Price groaned and rolled his eyes away from you.

You were the newest addition to the taskforce, at Laswell’s insistence, she claimed you were the best intel operative she had encountered in years. She had pulled a few strings and called in some favours with the higher ups that Price could only fantasize about knowing to get you after you had saved their arses with some quite impressive hacking skills.

To say you weren’t what Price had been expecting was a massive understatement. The day you were introduced to the team, you were all bright colours and sparkles in a sea of soldiers. Hardly military issue, as you arrived on base, you had poured your soft, rounded curves into that dress. A wiggle-dress his mother used to call them, and ridiculously high heels. The sight of you made his mouth water and his hands itched to feel your soft skin and overflowing curves. Soap and Gaz took to you instantly, bestowing you with the callsign Tink because of your love for tinkering with random projects or Tinkerbell according to Soap, Ghost took a little longer but your preference for a proper cup of tea and non-judgmental attitude towards his unwillingness to show his face quietly won him over.

The only one you hadn’t bonded with was Price. You butted heads and frustrated each other. Trading snide comments and jabs. Price did appreciate the fact that you kept a jar of sweets on your desk that you made an effort to keep stocked with his and the lads favorite treats and he had to admit that, Laswell was correct, your hacking skills were second to none.

Price watched as you spent the first three weeks of your time on base bringing in new trinkets for your small office. Candles, figurines and a small cactus that Soap didn’t notice until he sat on one day. You admonished him for weeks until he brought you in another, non-spiky one. “I’m sorry, Tinkerbell, forgive me?” he’d pouted, holding out the small succulent towards you. Your office was an explosion of colour like you, and there was always music playing, you’d even created a playlist with Soap and Gaz.

But…on more than one occasion not that he would admit it, Price found himself in his office late at night surrounded by the cloying scent of artificial strawberries from the candles you preferred to decorate your office with that seemed to follow you around, with his hand furiously fisting his cock. Your bratiness was like catnip to him. Every cheeky little sass you threw his way made him harder than ever.

You yourself, never thought you would be one to enjoy it when a man yelled at you but with Price’s gravely, low voice and the sheer broadness of him…damn...you couldn’t count the nights you spent with the absolutely non military issue neon pink vibrator between your legs imagining it was Price instead, his booming voice echoing in your ears as you came. Your embarrassing crush on the captain had stopped you from dating, all bar a handful of dates with that very tall Austrian colonel from Kortac, you thought he had ghosted you after your dates but came to find out that he had died from ingesting strychnine poison in a Romanian brothel after sleeping with a married woman.

“Are you even listening to me?” Your voice pulled Price back to the present.

“There’s nothing to hear, we’re not taking that thing” he pointed towards the shelf.

“It’s already been cleared. You just have to control everything don’t you?”

“I’m the captain for a reason” he muttered, stubbornly.

You scoffed “god, I bet you couldn’t last one day without controlling everything”

Price leaned forward, open palms resting on the desk in front of him, staring down at you “try me”

“What?”

“You heard me…try me, doll”

You can’t tell who made the first move as your hair was wrapped tightly in Price’s hands as he pulled you against his lips in a heated kiss. He groans deeply as your teeth nip sharply at his bottom lip.

“That dress looks divine on you” he smirks, pulling away from your lips breathing heavily.

“Thank you-”

“How easy is it to take off?”

You smirked, turning your back towards Price, moving your hair over your shoulder and glancing over your shoulder at him.

Price licked his lips as his hands slid slowly from your waist up your back. His hands made quick work of the zipper as he slid the dress down over your shoulders, placing a gentle almost loving kiss between your shoulder blades.

You turned to face him as you dropped your dress to the floor. You felt exposed as Price’s eyes raked over your near naked form.

Price couldn’t take his eyes away from you. The lacy navy coloured lingerie hugged your soft, rounded curves perfectly. Your eyes locked with his as he dropped to his knees in front of you.

“Tell me you want this” his eyes bore into yours as his hands toyed with the waistband of your underwear “tell me you want me”

“Price…”

“John, call me John…please” he whimpered.

“Please, John”

“Fuck” he uttered as he dragged the lace over your hips and down your legs. You shuddered as the cool air met your soaking core.

He pushes your legs apart, pressing little kisses on your inner thighs, before nuzzling his cheek against you, breathing in your scent as he lifted one of your legs to rest on his shoulder.

He looks up at you, eyes blown out with desire. Before you had a chance to think of a witty retort, he dives in, tongue sliding through your folds. You fall back against the desk with a soft groan as your hands find his hair, gripping tight as he laps at you like a man starved. “Fuck,” he moans against you. “You taste so fucking good.” He spreads you apart, adding a finger into the mix, he thrusts it in and out of your eager hole as his tongue laps at you. You moan softly, hand still tangled in his hair as you arched your back, body chasing his tongue against your heated skin.

“Stop wriggling” he gritted out, his voice strained as his calloused hands gripped the plush of your thighs.

“Make me”

Price chuckled as he grabbed your waist and lifted you, you squealed and wrapped your legs around his hips as he sat you on your desk “just once, will you do as you're told?” His hands on either side of your hips, holding you firmly against him.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You smirked, locking your ankles behind his back and pulling him closer.

Price grunts, gripping your thighs against his waist as he leans forward and leaves wet, sloppy kisses along your shoulders and up the column of your neck. His teeth nip and bite at the delicate skin, marking you, claiming you as his own.

“You have no idea how much I want you”

“Oh I think I get the idea” your smirk as his lips continued their path towards your chest. You ground against him and chuckled as you felt the rumble of a moan in his chest.

“I want to ruin you”

“Please…do it”

That was all the encouragement he needed as he hurried to undo his belt and shove his pants to his ankles.

“Your hand feels so much better than my own” he rasped as you wrapped your hands around him, lining his cock up with your pussy. You moaned against each other's lips as he sinks into you. The stretch to accommodate him is nothing short of delicious. Your grind against him as he bottoms out.

Your eyes meet as he pulls out of you before snapping his hips back against you, filling you so completely that it steals the air from your lungs.

Your hands grip anywhere you can as Price rolls his hips up into you, the way you squeeze him spurs him on as you writhe and keen underneath him. Your nails leave crescent shapes in the skin of his back as he looms over you, his arms caging you against his broad chest.

Price couldn’t stop himself, he kissed at the skin of your bare shoulder, bared his teeth and bit, hard, you yelped. Oh shit, he thought, have I gone too far?

He stopped and looked into your eyes, searching for any type of distress.

“More” you purred. You’d be the fucking death of him.

He smirks as he can feel your body tightening around him, you’re getting closer and he isn’t far behind as he slams into you with one final snap of his hips. His lips find yours as you moan into his mouth, tongue and lips clashing together as you come.

Your door swung open “about time” Ghost muttered as he closed the door again.

“So…that was…” Price stumbled out as he pulled out of you, picking up your dress that laid crumpled on the floor. He gently pulled it over your spent body. Resisting the urge to drop kisses to any sliver of skin he could see.

“Great, it was great” you smile, pausing slightly before standing up on your toes to place a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. He turned his head, chasing your lips as you shared a soft kiss.

“Yeah, it was great” he smiled, suddenly bashful.

[themuseumofwitchcraftandpaganism]

Did Christianity Steal From Paganism? Yes... No... It's Complicated. Part 2: Vikings

Tis the season so I figured I'd talk about the topic that's been the subject of debate for a long time, most recently with the 2024 Olympics. I will be discussing the visual aspect of these religions, not the theological aspects.

Short answer: Yes

Long answer: No

Let's get into it: The Viking era is from 800-1050 AD and can be divided into seven parts based off the style of visual art that was popular. The first style is called the Oseberg style (775-800 AD) and would be the basis of all the Viking styles of art after it. It was made of three forms that were derived from Pagan pre-Viking art: ribbon animals, gripping beasts, and ambiguous forms. You can see it on the bow of the ship below; the ship dates to the 9th century and was found in a burial mound in Tønsberg, Norway. Remember these forms because they're going to be important later.

The Vikings started coming into contact with Christian Anglo Saxon (modern day English) missionaries in the 700-800s, but they had little effect. The missionaries were well received by the kings but when their Pagan chieftains threatened to rescind their support, the missionaries were sent away. Another example of that is in 878 AD, the Christian king of the Anglo Saxons, Alfred the Great of Wessex, and the Pagan king of the Vikings, Guthrum the Old, were at war. King Alfred ended up winning and as part of the peace treaty, Guthrum had to get baptized into Christianity. He did so but maintained his Pagan worship and did not implement Christianity.

Besides the kings, common people had also started to slowly assimilate to Christianity. Christians had a rule that they couldn't trade with Pagans so Pagan Vikings began primsigning. Primsigning is an old Norse word meaning "to make the sign of the cross," the way to show you followed Christian beliefs before converting all the way through baptism. Even though they weren't being baptized and were still practicing Paganism, primsigning was enough for Christians to feel comfortable trading with them and brought the Vikings more into the world of Christianity.

An interesting example of this is in Kopparsvik, Sweden, where a large number of Viking individuals were buried in a prone position from 900-1050 AD. This is completely different from traditional Pagan Viking burials: there were no grave goods, no animal sacrifices, no mighty ships. Typically, a prone position is a sign of showing humility towards God and all the figures had notches carved into their teeth (below). Historians theorize that they used the notches to secretly signal to Christian merchants that they were also Christian to get discounts while not being alienated from their Pagan communities.

The coin below is from ~921 AD. It's a Viking coin from York, England and wonderfully shows the mixing of Pagan and Christian iconography. Coins like this typically had the name of the Viking king engraved on them but this one has "St. Peter." However, it also depicts the hammer of Thor on both the head (left) and reverse (right). It really demonstrates the visual mixing of religions.

Sometime between 940-1000 AD, the cross below was made. It was found in St Andrew's Church, Andreas, Isle of Man (between England and Ireland), and is another great example of the combination of Pagan and Christian art. On one side (left) it depicts Odin with one of his ravens fighting the wolf Fenrir at Ragnarök. The other side (right) depicts Christ triumphing over Satan. Both of these are stories of good vs evil and depict a god triumphing at the end of days. It would have drawn attention to the theological similarities between Christianity and Norse Paganism, making it easier for people to conflate the differing theologies.

Remember the Oseberg style from before? We're going to revisit it. By the 900s, Viking art was being done in the Mamman style; the ribbon animals and gripping beasts had combined into an icon called the Great Beast. The Great Beast was a symbol of power and strength, frequently put on longships and other Pagan items. In 986 AD, Viking King Bluetooth, a recent convert to Christianity, had the jelling stone below erected in honor of his deceased parents. On one side, he included a Great Beast; this was to show the strength and nobility of his parents and the nation they ruled. On the other side, he put an image of Christ Triumphant. This makes sense for a cenotaph as the promise of a resurrection is a comfort in the face of death. But the combination of a Pagan symbol of strength and an image of Christ is very interesting; it's doing more than pointing out the similarities between the two religions, it's uniting both Pagan and Christian subjects under his rule and proudly displaying the two different sources of the Viking's strength.

I can't end this without also talking about architecture. The last Viking art style is called the Urnes style and it's primarily because of the church below. It was built in 1132 AD in Urnes, Norway and is a stave church, meaning the whole thing was built without any nails!! The entire thing is self-supporting wood made using the post and lintel system. It's a Chrisitan church but has Pagan iconography on the sides: the last version of the Great Beast (right) and Pagan runes. It's fascinating how a Christian place of worship is decorated and protected by Pagan icons, once again showing the combination of visual cultures and methods of thought.

So, the answer everyone is looking for is NO.

The Christians didn't steal anything from the Pagans, they made an association. They produced art in the style that was popular and followed the artistic trends of the time. Christian and Pagan imagery was produced in the same medium and combined until Paganism was phased out over hundreds of years. They saw similar gods and iconography and combined them to make a message that was understandable to all audiences.

Happy Yule! Happy Winter Solstice!

Further reading:

Smarthistory – Art of the Viking Age

BBC - History - Ancient History in depth: Viking Religion

The Vikings and Christianity | History of Christian Vikings – Sons of Vikings

Treaty of Wedmore - Wikipedia

Manx runestones - Wikipedia

Prone Burials and Modified Teeth at the Viking Age Cemetery of Kopparsvik - Historische Beratung Dr. Matthias Toplak

Ancient Viking Art - Medievalists.net

Gamla Uppsala - Wikipedia

[googleblogs123]

Syria's Growing Instability: A Forex Trader's Perspective

Syria’s escalating conflict has captured the world’s attention, especially as major powers like the U.S. and Israel become more involved. As the geopolitical landscape shifts, forex market trends are experiencing heightened volatility, presenting both risks and opportunities for traders. Understanding the market’s reaction to global events can guide traders in making informed decisions, leveraging tools such as RichSmartFX and Axel Private Market.

The U.S. Strategy in Syria: Impact on Forex Portfolios

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As geopolitical tensions rise, traders can benefit from GFS Markets that alert them to shifts in the market, ensuring timely reactions to volatile price movements.

The Complex Role of Iran and Forex Portfolio Strategy

Iran’s involvement in Syria adds complexity to the situation, as it faces internal struggles and external pressures. These developments can influence forex market trends, particularly in energy prices, which have a direct impact on currency pairs like USD/JPY and EUR/USD. As the situation unfolds, Axel Private Market will be crucial for traders looking to enter or exit positions effectively based on the latest developments.

A sound DBGMFX should account for the unpredictability of geopolitical risks, offering diversification and stability during times of heightened uncertainty.

Israel’s Military Action: Forex Trading Adjustments

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RichSmart.net will need to be flexible, allowing traders to adjust their positions based on evolving global circumstances. With RichSmartFX and GFS Markets, forex traders can react quickly to changing market dynamics, ensuring they don’t miss out on potential profits.

Conclusion: Navigating Forex Markets Amid Geopolitical Uncertainty

The current instability in Syria and its broader implications will continue to affect global forex markets. Traders must remain vigilant and adapt quickly using tools like RichSmartFX, GFS Markets, and a solid DBGMFX to navigate the volatility. By staying agile and monitoring TopMax Global, traders can leverage opportunities arising from global political events while managing risks effectively.

[torturedtypewritersdept]

the sun + the sand - pt. five - something was wrong

↳PAIRING: bff!rafe cameron x fem!reader

↳SUMMARY:you have a stalker, but your best friend rafe won't let anything happen to you, even if he has to come clean about how he really feels.

↳WARNINGS: mentions of stalking, blackmail, inappropriate behavior (not from rafe), protective!rafe, etc.

↳A/N: this is a repost from my old blog @illicitfixations + @lovelornanonymity. all of my works are being reposted to this one + the previous blog has been deactivated.

You sat with your feet dangling off of his bed, sneakers adjacent to your feet where you’d previously taken them off. John B stood parallel to his dresser, pouring the white powder into four even lines with his debit card. 

“Come on in, y/n. The water is fine.” 

He spoke cheerily in a sing-song voice, snorting two of the lines back to back. You followed his lead as you traded places with him and suddenly, everything felt lighter. 

Snorting a line of coke off of John B’s dresser was probably not your best idea, okay, maybe it was your worst idea to date. But, you needed to forget about your sleepover with Rafe and the potential of marrying him before you began to hyperfixate and ruin everything. You had it good. There were drunk texts and phone calls and he even flirted with you from time to time. Apart from that, Rafe protected you and he was good to you and you weren’t about to throw all of those wonderful things away based on the tiny notion of a fake marriage, when you were sure he didn’t love you – not the way that you loved him. So, there you sat on John B’s bed, veins filled with cocaine taking in his lust filled eyes. He wasn’t all bad, he was nice to talk to and he was hot but that seemed to end the list of his good qualities. He was simply the warm body that you fell on top of when you were at your loneliest. But, he never filled the void. The only thing that did was looking at Rafe. In fact, you felt more warmth just talking to him than you ever had lying under John B in the middle of the night. That’s the reason he was the person you called to pick you up. You closed your eyes as John B laid you down, spreading your legs as he took off your clothes, piece by piece. He was gentle, at least, which shocked you because he was blitzed out of his mind in the same way that you were. You watched as he kissed above your pubic bone and up your stomach as he took your breasts into his mouth, suckling on them like a newborn pup. His tongue made circles around your teet, sucking and biting and palming your other breast as he went. You rubbed your hands through his long hair while he worked, looking down at him briefly through half-lidded eyes. It was only as he moved down to your pussy that you saw a shadow by the door through your drug-induced haze. You closed your eyes for a moment, blinking them open again in hopes that it would give you a better view of whoever stood in the doorway and it did. John B didn’t seem to notice, moving his tongue rapidly up and your vagina, placing kisses as he lapped up your juices. You almost got caught up in how good it felt, because quite frankly John B wasn’t very good at making you feel good. The feeling shocked you, but then you remembered the person in the doorway again and you fought to get away from the ecstasy that was trying to infiltrate your every nerve. You closed your eyes again only momentarily and this time when you opened them you saw blue eyes and blonde hair and a sinister grin and just as your eyes sent the signal to your brain that you knew who the boy was, you went into a panic. You grabbed John B’s hair, pulling him up from your pussy, which you quickly wished you hadn’t done because your legs were wide open and the man watching you got an eyeful. 

“Ow! What the fuck, y/n?!” 

John B growled and as he looked at you with accusational eyes, he realized something was wrong. You were scared and you looked like you’d seen a ghost. You couldn’t move, instead, you only pointed to the doorway and when John turned in that direction, taking in his best pal, he grew angry. 

“JJ, what the fuck are you doing here?!” 

He growled and JJ snickered. 

“Come on, JB! Don’t play pretend, you texted me and told me to come over and scare her.” 

You scoffed, knowing that you should’ve known he was capable of something like that, he was a pogue after all and that’s what you got for slumming it with one. 

“Y/n – hey, he’s lying. You can check my phone. I most definitely didn’t text him anything.” 

You swallowed thickly, unsure of which of the two to believe, as you wrapped the sheet around yourself. You wanted nothing more than to call Rafe but you knew he’d lecture you and probably kill both of the boys in front of you. So, you did what any self respecting person would and you got dressed, walking off of John B’s porch and into the night. You didn’t know anything other than the fact that you absolutely had to get out of there. 

-

Rafe looked down at you as he stood on the eight foot ladder he had leaned against the bricks of your house. Your watchful eye caught the small details of his t-shirt hugging his biceps, which was always a sight to see. His muscles contracted as he took the camera system in his hand and began mounting it to the corner of your house, where brick and sheetrock met. 

“How was your night last night, peach? I don’t think I saw you at the boneyard.” 

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should be honest and tell him that JJ Maybank scared the shit out of you. 

“It was fine.” 

You muttered, but he continued to pry. 

“Well, what did you do? You couldn’t have been with John B, because you didn’t text me to come get you.” 

“Actually, that’s where I was.” 

You replied in a monotone voice. 

“Well, did you spend the night or something?” 

“No.” 

“Then how’d you get home, peach?” 

“I – I uh, walked.” 

You muttered. 

“Why?! Do you know how many times I’ve told you to call me?! What do you think I’d do if something happened to you, huh?!” 

His voice quickly became booming, as he stood above you and you hung your head low in response, feeling unshed tears collect in your eyes. 

“Well, I would’ve just stayed there. B-but, I was scared.” 

The hair on the back of Rafe’s neck raised at your confession. 

“Why, were you scared, peach?” 

He questioned. 

“Can I be honest with you? You promise you won’t get mad?” 

You questioned meekly, pressing your fingers into your palms. He looked down at you from where he stood and he could tell something was wrong by the action of your hands; a movement you only partook in when you were experiencing extreme anxiety. He quickly stopped what he was doing and made a rapid but careful dissent down the ladder. 

“Peach, baby – whatever it is, I won’t be mad, okay?” 

He said, now standing in front of you, his gentle touch felt against the skin of your shoulders and biceps as his hands traveled up and down them. 

“Rafe, what do you know about JJ Maybank?” 

You questioned.

“Not much. I mean I know that he’s weird and there are rumors about him like fucking his sister or something, but I don’t think they are true. I kinda feel sorry for the kid, you know his dad is abusive, right? Why?” 

Your silence and refusal to meet his eyes, told him all he needed to know. 

“Sweetheart, did he do something to you? Because I’ll kill him.” 

He barked out and you caved. 

“Me and John – we had done a line and then we were, you know, doing the nasty. I looked up and there he was – just standing in the door, watching us. Rafe, he wasn’t just watching, he was laughing in this weird way and h-he scared me and then he said that John texted him to scare me, but I could tell he was lying I think. I don’t know – I just, I didn’t call because I was embarrassed and I was so scared I just put my clothes on and left.” 

You stuttered out the words and Rafe’s heart dropped. To know that this stupid boy had violated you in such a personal and private way, it hurt him so deeply and he wanted to kill him. 

“Hey, look at me, peach.” 

He said, bringing your chin in between his forefinger and his thumb. 

“I’m not mad, sweetheart and I promise there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, he violated you and I’ll kill him, okay? If you want, I’ll put him in the fucking hospital for doing that to you.” 

He said, strong and sure and serious. It made the walls of your heart contract – to know that he cared this much. You hoped he always would. 

“That’s very sweet, but if you’re in jail for attempted murder, who am I going to marry?” 

You asked playfully, giving him a smile and he returned it, placing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Okay, peach. But, I’m serious – you call me from now on. Matter of fact, I don’t even want you near him anymore. He’s fucking weird.” 

He said and you nodded your head in response. 

“Agreed.” 

as always, if you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know <3

taglist:

@maybankslover

[thelostdreamsthings]

"Putin is isolated."

BRICS, 50% of the World population is telling a big "fuck off" to the arrogant, declining and decadent G7 amounting to 10% of the World's population.

🇺🇳🇷🇺 UN Secretary General Guterres respectfully bows and shakes the hand of Putin in Russia’s Kazan at the BRICS summit.

A lot of people start crying and scream hysterically when they see this picture, for some reason.

[BRICS Currency Looms Large: Could This Be the Beginning of the End for U.S. Dollar Dominance?

For decades, the U.S. dollar has been weaponized as a tool of global dominance, wielded by the American empire to enforce its geopolitical will.

Through sanctions, coercive financial practices, and the threat of exclusion from the dollar-based system, the U.S. has effectively terrorized nations across the world.

The pretense of a “free market” economy has long been shattered by Washington's aggressive use of the dollar as a weapon to cripple economies, isolate adversaries, and exert control over global trade.

But the world is growing tired—sick and tired—of this financial tyranny. And now, with the rise of BRICS, we may be witnessing the beginning of the end for U.S. dollar supremacy.

BRICS—Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa—represent a bloc of nations that together account for nearly half of the global population and a significant chunk of the world’s GDP.

For years, these nations have been quietly collaborating to counterbalance the West's stranglehold over international finance, and now, they are inching closer to launching their own currency.

The creation of a BRICS currency signals an outright challenge to the dollar-dominated global economy, and it is nothing short of a revolt against American financial imperialism.

Why is this happening? The answer is simple: countries are fed up with being bullied. The U.S. has used its currency like a sledgehammer, smashing nations that dare to defy its hegemony.

Whether through sanctions on Iran, Venezuela, or Russia, or by financially suffocating smaller nations into submission, the dollar has become a tool of coercion rather than commerce.

Nations who once played by the rules of the so-called “global order” have found themselves punished, their economies crippled, and their people starved—merely for refusing to kowtow to Washington's dictates.

But BRICS is offering an alternative. The creation of a BRICS currency, backed by the economic strength of its member nations, offers the world a way out of the suffocating grip of the dollar.

This is not just about financial autonomy—it’s about reclaiming sovereignty, independence, and the right to conduct trade without the constant threat of U.S. interference.

Russia and China have been leading the charge in this effort, driven in part by the U.S. sanctions imposed on Moscow following the Ukraine conflict and the ongoing trade war with Beijing.

Both countries have moved aggressively to reduce their reliance on the U.S. dollar, increasing trade with each other and with other BRICS members in their local currencies.

They are laying the groundwork for a currency that could be based on a basket of commodities, potentially gold-backed, further weakening the grip of the U.S. dollar on the global market.

The U.S. has long prided itself on its role as the issuer of the world’s reserve currency, but this dominance was never guaranteed to last forever.

The BRICS currency threatens to dismantle the global financial architecture that has allowed the U.S. to live far beyond its means.

For decades, the U.S. has run massive deficits, printing money at will, secure in the knowledge that the world would continue to rely on the dollar.

But as BRICS nations move to establish their own currency, that privilege could evaporate overnight.

The implications for the U.S. are dire. If the dollar loses its status as the world’s reserve currency, the U.S. economy could face a severe reckoning.

The artificial demand for dollars that has kept interest rates low and allowed the U.S. to run massive debt could vanish, leading to inflation, higher borrowing costs, and potentially a fiscal crisis.

The American empire, propped up for so long by its control of global finance, could find itself in rapid decline.

For the rest of the world, however, the rise of a BRICS currency represents hope—a chance to escape the iron grip of U.S. financial imperialism. No longer will countries have to fear the punitive measures of the U.S. Treasury.

No longer will they have to worry about being cut off from the global financial system for standing up to American bullying.

The creation of a new currency could usher in a multipolar world, where nations are free to trade without being subject to the whims of a single superpower.

Of course, the U.S. will not go quietly. Washington will likely pull out all the stops to crush the BRICS currency before it can gain traction. The playbook will be the same: propaganda, financial sabotage, and even the threat of military intervention.

But this time, the world may not be so easily intimidated. The BRICS nations, backed by their vast resources and burgeoning economies, are prepared to stand their ground.

In the end, the creation of a BRICS currency is not just an economic development—it’s a revolutionary act. It’s a declaration that the age of American financial dominance is coming to an end, and that a new world is on the horizon.

The U.S. dollar, once seen as the bedrock of global stability, has become a symbol of oppression, and the world is ready to move on.

The question now is not whether the U.S. dollar will fall, but when. And as BRICS moves closer to launching its own currency, that day may be sooner than anyone expects.

The empire, long propped up by its financial manipulation, is facing a reckoning—one that could change the course of history.]

IMF Growth Forecast: 2024

🇮🇳India: 7.0% (BRICS)

🇨🇳China: 4.8% (BRICS)

🇷🇺Russia: 3.6% (BRICS)

🇧🇷Brazil: 3.0% (BRICS)

🇺🇸US: 2.8% (G7)

🇸🇦KSA: 1.5% (invited to BRICS)

🇨🇦Canada: 1.3% (G7)

🇿🇦RSA: 1.1% (BRICS)

🇬🇧UK: 1.1% (G7)

🇫🇷France: 1.1% (G7)

🇮🇹Italy: 0.7% (G7)

🇯🇵Japan: 0.3% (G7)

🇩🇪Germany: 0.0% (G7)

‼️ 159 out of 193 countries have signed up to use the new BRICS settlement system.

US and European Union will no longer be able to use economic sanctions as a weapon.

This system allows countries to settle trades and payments in their own currencies, reducing reliance on the U.S. dollar, which has long been the dominant global currency.

[kariachi]

I've said it before, I say it a lot honestly, but I love the reasonable assumptions we can make about firelizards breeding and social habits based on what we see in primarily DragonsDawn.

Like, we've got the basic 'greens Rise a lot and don't tend their nests while golds Rise more rarely and fiercely tend their nests'. That's great, we love us some behavioral morphs in species. But then you also have to consider what would lead to such a thing, namely that both of these behaviors have to be successful, and successful in comparison to each other, in order for one to not completely take over from the other. Meaning that each option has benefits over the other.

For instance, in years or seasons where there's a large predator population, gold clutches are probably the most successful as they're the best guarded. But if you're dealing with horrible weather, or gods forbid a Pass, the fact green clutches are spread out far and wide means it's more likely one or more will survive, while a gold needs just one bad storm or Fall to wipe her whole year's breeding opportunities off the map.

But like, the most obvious one is a pure numbers game. If you don't invest in your eggs post-laying, that frees you up to get back into laying condition sooner and make more eggs. For instance in emus you'll see a female lay 5+ eggs in a single nest, but then she leaves that business to the male and runs off to eat well and find another guy to foist eggs on, ending up with sometimes even five nests in a season. But if you do invest in your eggs post-laying, you get more security in-so-far as assuring your eggs hatch. In emus the males do that, they get the best of both worlds there, but even more effective is to have multiple individuals looking out for the eggs.

Which is where their eusocial-style behavior comes in! By having the rest of the group dedicated to supporting the gold as she guards and tends her nest, the cost of nest tending is spread out, reducing the load on any one member of the group. The same thing happens with youngcare, which seems to be wholly communal, again reducing the cost for any individual member of the group. But eusocial behaviors are most efficient when members of a group are related, you don't want to waste your life raising young that don't share your genes.

Then you remember that firelizards form mental bonds at birth, bonds that they can break with no issue but that they can and do maintain throughout their lives. Taking this and the last paragraph into account, most likely collections of wild firelizards are mostly formed of sibling groups. Even if your bronze brother didn't catch the gold this year, helping with the clutch improves the odds he'll catch next year, and in the meantime you have plenty of opportunity with the greens.

This also probably plays into the fact they hum for all allied births. A green's nest doesn't get tended, but the young still need feeding at hatching. If you're a male then coming when you get the psychic 'birth here now' signals is an easy choice because there's the real chance these are your brother's offspring and his reproductive success is second only to your own. If you're a female, this nest is likely a sister's, in which case same deal, their success is only second to yours. On either side, having more babies around means a higher chance of any individual baby not being eaten by a predator, increasing the survival odds of your own children.

And then all this likely plays into the various male morphs and the color and size differences between ranks. I've mentioned elsewhere- the various male morphs are likely optimized to chase different female morphs. Blues can keep up with the quicker, more agile greens, bronzes with the slower, longer flying golds, and browns are a 'jack-of-all-trades' rank that doesn't specialize but instead can successfully chase either female morph, just with lower odds than the specialized males.

As far as size differences go, it's again all on the females to start. Golds lay larger clutches and defend them from things like wherries, they need to be larger to fit more eggs, to better defend their nests, and to drive off rival golds. Bronzes have to be large to keep up with the golds when they Rise. Greens specialize in laying more clutches and so likely smaller clutches, so they don't need to get as big and can instead focus on evading predators and even being able to lure predators from a freshly laid clutch without getting snatched up, small size is useful there. Blues are also small because it allows them the speed and maneuverability to chase greens. Presumably the reason they're larger than greens are is due for some reason to their being male, likely related to the complex genetics likely tied to rank*. Browns are in the middle because it allows them enough speed and maneuverability to go for greens, but also enough stamina to try for golds.

Color, meanwhile, is likely a camouflage thing. Blues, greens, and browns are all natural colors, perfect for making it harder for predators to notice you. According to the DLG firelizards come in a variety of shades, I wouldn't be surprised if there was even a degree of midtones between the various ranks. Golds and bronzes, meanwhile, I think are more likely a matter of reflective camouflage. A gold on a nest may be hard to look at in bright light, or at a glance appear to just be a patch of wet sand. If a gold has to leave the nest, more likely the sire would be left to guard it, and similar camouflage would fill a similar role. It might even, for some bronzes, give the impression that the larger gold is still on the nest, deterring predators that don't want to tangle with one. Since the smaller ranks are far less likely to be on a nest, more matte tones to mack dirt, wood, sky, foliage would be most effective.

It's all just fascinating and not quite like anything we have on Earth, though you can make parallels between several different Earth species. Absolutely love it.

[igglemouse]

"So, how do I look? Human enough?" I ask my idiot assistant Dre with a hopeful smile. Dre Ogve is her name, yes, like me she only has two names. Two signifiers, I should say, a badge of shame amongst our kind. But that's not why I'm here, I'm here to blend in, and I know that humans really like standing out and so I've made a disguised that will do just that but in a more classy way. "How's the hair?"

Dre's eyes widen and her expression is that of pure horror. "Zer..." she starts to say, her voice a waver as she pretends as if she's seen some kind of accident. "Th-that's not how a normal human female looks!"

See, that's the problem with her, she thinks she knows everything. "Dre, what is the issue?" I'm genuinely confused. The pants are bright and pink, which I know is a color to signal to others that one is female, and it even has dots on it with a variety of soft colors. I'm wearing thick boots as well, just in case the terrain is rough, and my hair is what is currently in on this planet.

"Everything," Dre whispers, she acts as if I've physically assaulted her.

Alright, maybe I do need to work on my look a bit, but let's not let her off the hook here. I specially told her to secure me a suitable home here on this very planet and what has she found? I believe this is what you humans would call trash? I live in trash. Dust is every where, dirt is every where, and there is a strange smell that lingers in this place. From what I can tell, is this even a proper home?

"Dre, what is this? Was there nowhere else?" I demand, glaring at her. I have to be firm with her because honestly she's horrible at her job, just terrible. But she's also not very smart so what can you expect from an idiot?

"We had no simoleons because YOU insisted that they trade in bottle caps here, remember?" She dares to snap back, trying to shift the blame, as she always does. Yes, yes, I might have made a slight tiny miniscule miscalculation regarding the various forms of currency you all trade in but how can you blame me? There's like hundreds of them and besides...

"I WAS PLAYING A GAME BASED ON THEIR HISTORY AND BOTTLE CAPS WERE THE CURRENCY! WHAT DO I LOOK LIKE TO YOU?" I say throwing my hands up and am forced to deal with living in trash for now.

"A clown?" she says holding back laughter and the sound of her amusement really grates on my nerves. I hate her. I loathe her. Yet, what can I do with her? I'm so frustrated with her that I send her questions and queries mentally, too angry to speak. We Sixams can transmit thoughts and ideas and have entire conversations mentally. This isn't mind reading. One can only receive what what is sent to them and so I wonder what even is a clown? She sends an image back and I'm still confused.

"Yes Dre? I don't see why that is a bad thing?"

"A clown is a joke," she's smirking. I know this smirk, this expression. She's laughing at me. "A big walking joke, Zer, and that's what you look like. A fool. A dummy. A joke."

"Well why don't you show me YOUR disguise?" I snap back. I hate this being, truly, but she is also oddly endearing...in a very annoying kind of way and an impossible to get rid of kind of way.

"You're just going to copy me Zer, that's what you always do, copy me." She is so smug, I can see it on her face, I want to lug something heavy and smash her face with it...because she's not wrong. I would copy her, but that makes ME the genius since she's the one doing all the work and I'll make sure she knows that.

"That is how this works, Dre. You are MY assistant, so I take your suggestions, so give me a suggestion." I tap my foot to let her know that I'm growing impatient with her act.

She rolls her eyes and groans but she does help. Sending me a mental image of what I can look like and what she thinks would be considered normal on this planet. I guess it looks better, I'll just have to trust her on this.

But before I can work on changing my look I'll need a job so that I can escape this garbage of a home. I cannot take over this planet operating from here.

While I am here I'll work on cleaning things up, not only this 'house' but this planet because honestly you all have failed to do it. Plastic every where and I mean EVERYWHERE and trash in your seas. I honestly wonder how you all have made it this far?

But now it is time for my makeover. As I look at my reflection in a mirror I'm not exactly sure what's wrong with my look but again I'll trust Dre on this. She means well, usually...

There! I do think this is much better! Ah, I've almost forgot! I can't go around being called Zer and so I've come here with a name in mind. Priya Patel. Please do not ever refer to me as Zer, I wouldn't want to blow my disguise.

I looked around until I found a big metal can just laying up against a fence and to my surprise it was filled with tons of useful stuff. Do you humans just throw away things like this? So odd. So incredibly stupid. Perfectly good items, like a fully functional chair, just in the trash? Let me guess, you take this trash and then put it all in a LARGER pile of trash, don't you?

Welp, your loss is my gain and maybe if I find something valuable enough I can sell it and move out of my trash house. Sounds like a decent enough plan, for now.

I take that old dirty chair and put it into my recycler which I should point out is primitive. We Sixams have a way to turn any and every thing into energy. This chair? Yeah, we'd turn it into water. So you can figure my surprise when the recycler just turned it into more useful trash. Well, that's a start, it looks like it'll be on me to save your world before I can conquer it.

You are welcome, by the way.

I head back inside and find Dre sitting there on my couch. I'm not sure where she's been and honestly I do not care. She doesn't live here but she will have this annoying ability to just pop up when she feels like it. Typical of her. We are birth mates, by the way, coming from the same mother back on Sixam. I think you humans call that siblings? So this is why I have to stick by her, you must always be loyal to your birth mates, all fifty or so of them.

Today she's here to review my grand plan and I can tell she's going to be insufferable about this. "So...how exactly are you going to conquer the planet again?"

"Simple. I find their leader and mind control them and then become their leader," obvious right? See what I mean? She's stupid. You land and tell them 'Take me to your leader' and go from there. Humans are very susceptible to manipulation. You just speak to them mentally and they think your thoughts are theirs.

"Not so simple, Zer," she pushes out a sigh as if I'm the stupid one. "They have multiple leaders. Different continents, governments, and some are even capable of...powers," she tells me this as if it will make any difference to me. It does not because it does not make any sense actually.

"Dre, how can you have multiple leaders?" What is going on here? "Every planet has ONE leader. That's how it always works. Remember when-"

But before I can finish I see her wrigglers start wriggling (those are head tentacles) and squirm the way they usually do when she disagrees. "Not here," she sighs as if she's talking her a child. "Each piece of land here has leader, and that leader is under another leader. These leaders can sometimes even hate each other. Drop nuclear bombs on other countries...yes, on the same planet."

I don't even know how to respond to that. What's wrong with you people? Are you TRYING to blow up your own planet? I mean yes, we Sixams have destroyed a few planets, but we exist on countless planets, what's one more? Any ways... "Look, Dre, it doesn't matter. Which 'land' has the most power then? I'll go to their leader and-"

"Oh...oh no, you've done none of your research," she' says, no, she 's smirking at me with pity now, her tone a mockery of mines. This is typical of her, she always thinks she's better when really she's the dumb one. That much is clear. mocks.

"Dre, you silly little blob, doing the research is YOUR job. Remember? Besides, you are not making much sense. How does the planet get much done with no unified planetary government? Aren't their billions of these primates on this tiny world?" , that is your job, Dre. Besides, that makes no sense. How do they get anything done on this planet?"

Dre shrugs, her wrigglers curling to indicate confusion. "They manage, I guess? I feel like they don't get much done, at least not recently. Their first few thousand years they have progressed tremendously and then..." she makes a flat line with her hand.

"Well, I'll get things back up and running again. They just need a strong hand and some direction! We can treat them like the Ziplops of Beta Omicron On!" Oh what great times! The Sixams, we were at our height then! Unified and powerful! I would fondly roll around in the nostaglia of it but Dre, being the buzzkill that she is, has a worried look on her face.

"Ermm, Zer, the Ziplops are now extinct, thanks to the various intergalactic occupation of their homeworlds. I do not think that-"

"You think too much Dre! That is the issue! This is a planet that needs Sixam direction, clearly, and I am the one to do it!" This planet needs this. You beings are hopelessly inefficient. "So, where do we start?"

"Ahhm," she starts, I can tell she has more to say. Thankfully, she thinks better of saying it. "We'll need simoleons. These beings are very motivated by their currency and the more of it you have the more power you have on this planet."

Dre is such a softie sometimes. That's why she'll always just be an assistant, she doesn't have the strength or vision to do what is needed and fusses over tiny details like 'morals' and 'sentience'. Does that matter when a planet is in desperate need of order? No, not is not. But she is right about one thing, I do need simoleons.

So with that in mind I step out into the world and search for opportunities. I admit, I have no idea what I'm doing or where I'm going and so I eventually end up looking at a board. Unfortunately, it is primitive. You beings still use paper and basic writing tools? Well, at least the posters pinned to the board are about saving the planet and clean energy so at least a few of you dummies realize the peril your planet is in.

Perhaps there are some that could be useful to me? I'll make a mental note to investigate that further.

"Oh hey! What ya voting for!?" A woman calls out from behind and I immediately tense and give her my best defensive glare. I've heard stories you know, of the Sims In Black? A secret defense force trained to detect and eliminate outsiders like me. Could she be one or is this just a random citizen?

"Greetings human," I say cautiously, giving her a wave and a flick of my tongue to show her I am no threat. That's what you humans do, right? I try to wriggle my wrigglers but I forget you beings have hair...on your head.

"Umm, hey? Human?" She asks, thrown off clearly. Was it the wave? It must have been the wave. "What are you doing with your tongue?"

"Oh ummm, the air! The taste of the..." I stop, because I have a feeling I am only making things worse. So instead I glance over to the board. "So, you all vote for things huh? Someone suggests a policy and you all vote?" You humans seem oddly obsessed with voting. Under my rule, voting will be illegal and punishable by a quick and swift death.

"Ah yeah!" she perks up at least. "We all try our best! The past administrations have really failed this place you know? The air sucks, the water sucks, it all sucks! It tends to happen when you don't regulate the mega corps!" She seems excited. I'm not sure why. She also seems far smarter than the average human. This must mean...

"Are you the leader of this trash town?"

"Heyyy, Evergreen Harbor is not in the best place right now but I wouldn't call it garbage!" Oh great, I've offended her.

I look around and take in the brown hazy fog that fills the air, the heaps of actual garbage lying around randomly here and there, and a very toxic scent invading my nostrils and I start to wonder if she's blind, deaf, and senseless. I look around and see nothing but garbage. "There is LIT-ER-ALLY a pile of garbage right behind me."

"Umm, yeah," she falters some, shifting uncomfortably form foot to foot. "I guess so? Still, it's my home, it's not polite to-"

"Your stupidity is not polite," I snap back because I am losing patience. I'm out here for to earn simoleons or to find a leader. The latter is preferable as it is always your leader who assigns you your job. "Human, please bring me to your leader. The matter is urgent, if you could not tell."

"Umm, I can't say I'm on speaking terms with the Mayor. Tammy Hite, by the way!"

I can't help but scoff. "Two names, nine letters, you must be a disgrace to your birth group."

"Ummm, lady, are you okay?" she then gives me a strange look. A look I'm not liking. She's suspicious. "You're like waaay out of this world or not sober or-"

"Wait, what?!" She is on to me. My heart skips a beat and I can see a spark in her eyes, recognition. A bit of panic takes hold of me and I wonder if she really is this SIB agent that Dre warned me about before coming here. "N-no!" I stammer out, desperate now. "I-I'm very much part of this world, Human! Just like you! See! Look at my eyes!"

Instead of looking she does the opposite, turning her head away, backing up. "Heyy um, yeah you need to-"

"LOOK AT THEM!"

"Ummm, yeah, you have nice eyes..." she says but I'm not convinced the compliment is sincere. She looks uncomfortable? Edging backwards and away from me. "I-I need to go. Nice meeting you ummmm...."

"Zerrrrraaauummmm, I-I mean Preena Matel," I'm stammering again, my heart is beating again, my wrigglers are...they are not on my head right now but if they were they would be WRIGGLING! "Prita! No, no, Priya! Priya Patel! That's it!" I force a smile, the one I've practiced over and over again, hoping it covers the slip, flicking my tongue out to show here that I mean no harm.

"Alllrighty then..." she says slowly, taking another step back. "I'llseeyouaround!"

And off she goes. That was a close one. Maybe I do need to do a little more research.

Zer Avoi Index ~ Episode 1.2

[bubonicc-writing]

Cooper Howard/ The Ghoul x Fem!Reader +18 headcannons

Cooper loves fingering you while you are both standing. He loves how you knot your hands in the front of his coat while his fingers work you over. It allows him to lean in and whisper foul things into your ear. He loves how you can just barely stand, and the closer you get to climax, the more you lose the support of your legs. When you cum, you're sobbing into his scarred neck as he drags you through it. When you come down from the high, your legs cannot bear your weight anymore. You start to slip downward, but Cooper lifts you back up and against his chest. He kisses your sweat-drenched cheeks and laughs at how malleable you always are in the literal palm of his hands.

Cooper loves rough sex, especially after a day of a successful and well-paying bounty. He loves you face down ass up, while his hips collide with yours. More often than not, he will even lean over you, pinning you below him while he ruts into you. He loves to push the boundary and roll his hips hard against you, grinding your pelvises together in an attempt to get every little bit of him inside of you. It has you seeing stars and your hair clinging to your damp and flushed cheeks.

Except there are nights when Cooper is soft. Nights when he stares down his brim at you, his eyes gentle as he caresses your face. He kisses the corner of your mouth and nuzzles his head between your head and shoulder. Inevitably, you both are on your bedroll, you on your back, while Cooper has his chest against yours. Your legs rock back and forth in a gentle rhythm as he rolls his hips against you. You trade loving kisses a few times before wrapping your arms around Coope’rs neck and tugging him closer to you. Resting your chin on his shoulder while he works, you close your eyes and smile. 

Cooper isn’t much of a loud love-maker, except when he gets close to cumming. His breathing becomes raggeder, and he huffs out gruff groans. On days he had a particularly explosive climax, he would choke out this chest-rumbling growl. On nights you two made love slowly; you always made sure Cooper tucked his head against your neck so you could hear his soft little grunts and groans as he worked. Whenever he whispered out a hushed fuck you would bite your bottom lip, humming at him in return. 

Most likely a side effect of two hundred years of radiation and mutation, Cooper cummed buckets. It was worse nights he would edge himself, often flooding you so full your lower belly had a slight bulge. You would be lying if you said you didn’t like it when Cooper sat back and watched his work flood from you the second he pulled out. It had you feral.

Cooper sits back on sofas/chairs with you between his legs. Like a good little pet, you sit there with your cheek against his thigh while you wait for him to pull his cock from his pants. After stroking himself a few times, he sits back and lets you take over. With a smart-ass grin on his lips and glossed-over eyes, he watches you lick from the base of his cock to the trip, where you place a tender kiss. When you swallow him down, his head tilts back between his shoulders, and he sighs contently. When he gets close, he places a hand on your head, signaling you to stay up. You obey and swallow him down to the base before feeling him tense, and his cock swell in your mouth. Hot fluid splatters the back of your throat, and you swallow it all down one gulp after another. When you finally lift off of him, a tendril of saliva still connects you to his cock. 

When Cooper eats you out, he is like a starved animal. Pressing his face into you hard and even using his teeth to tug at your clit, he holds your twisting hips down with an iron grip. He laps his tongue from your heats core up to your clit where the tip of his tongue flicks it. Always using his middle and ring finger to hook into you, he knows all the right buttons to push inside of you. Always knuckle deep, he doesn’t let up until you are sobbing through your orgasm.

Please feel free to send me prompts, I too… am so so very thirsty.