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windvexer · 10 months ago

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Spirit Vessel Theory & Practical DIY (Traditional Witchcraft Flavored)

(Written in response to an Anon whom I think is probably involved in spirit conjure community, which is where conjurers put spirits inside of a vessel for you and ship them to you. Anon requested to know tips on how to transfer a spirit to a new vessel)

✨big heckin UPG ALERT ahead for the ENTIRE POST✨

In this post, a spirit vessel is any object, including a container filled with objects, which serves as a spirit's physical foothold into our present reality.

Three Varieties of Spirit Vessels: Telephone, Body, House

Please note the particular absence of trap or prison: there is no need for any practitioner to trap or seal a spirit inside of a vessel. This is what we do to unwanted spirits to relocate them to a second location, and it's not how we treat our friends.

My categorization of spirit vessels relates to how the spirit is intended to engage with the vessel.

Telephone Vessel: This is the kind I've most commonly seen and heard of in the conjure community. The spirit lives/exists Elsewhere, but the practitioner has given them a link of communication to this physical object.

The practitioner then works over the object to "call" the spirit and ask it to arrive in their location, or visit it Elsewhere, or just talk while they are in separate locations.

In my opinion, the "telephone" vessel is the least impactful type for the purposes of allowing spirits into our lives, but it's great at what it does: serving as a telephone line. However, as I hope this post will go on to show, it's also the easiest to make because the vessel requires the least amount of preparation and care.

Body Vessel: This is when the spirit vessel is meant to be the body of the spirit as it dwells on Earth. When a vessel is consecrated and dedicated to a spirit, it's understood to be the spirit itself. The form that the vessel takes influences the spirit's ability to work in our reality.

Body vessels may end up looking like little figurine versions of the spirit in question, but they can also be containers specially prepared with decorations and objects heavily linked to the spirit's essence.

Direct examples in witchcraft and folk magic include house and kitchen dollies that are meant to help lighten the load of chores or stop food from burning. Such dolls may be equipped with little brooms, multiple hands, and so forth, to assist with chores.

Another example of a body vessel is the Decaying River God. To create this vessel, I made a deal with the river and then embodied a spirit into this intuitively crafted form. Now, that physical object has become the sacred body of a spirit.

Just as the kitchen doll may be given a broom to assist with sweeping, a spirit's body may be equipped with tools to grant them additional influence and abilities in our world. A related example in witchcraft is to put the feet of small, scurrying Earthen animals (such as a rat or mole) into charm bags, so that the spell can scamper to its destination.

Just because the spirit has a body vessel does not mean they are permanently bound inside of that vessel. Accidentally breaking or losing the vessel isn't like harming the spirit (although obviously it's to be avoided).

Spirits which were born Elsewhere are perhaps more likely to come and go from body vessels, but even beings born with the creation of their body may still leave that physical space and return to it as desired.

House Vessel: This is the same thing as a spirit house or shrine, just a step to the left. We might equip the body vessel with objects that grant the spirit additional powers and capabilities, but in the house vessel, I tend to organize things to be a pleasant and enjoyable respite for the spirit, almost like a custom bedroom.

There may be no object or representation that's intended to be the body of the spirit at all. Nonetheless, the space is still one where the spirit may be fully invited and present, and gives them a strong foothold in our world.

The only real difference I draw between a house vessel and a shrine or spirit house is the intent. A shrine may be to venerate, and a spirit house may be a kind act of providing shelter. But the house vessel's intent is to create a space that makes it easier for a spirit to fully Show Up to our present reality.

Which Variety is Best?

This depends on your needs. For the purposes of witchcraft, spirits are often best given bodies that reflect their nature and empower them to carry out your purpose. I also hold this to be true for spells and any other variety of guy.

Spirits whom we're getting to know, but aren't quite sure of yet, may be best limited to "telephone" status.

House vessels - I haven't got a lot to say, except bringing up the point of them.

You can have multiple telephone lines and house vessels, yet intuition advises that really only one Body should do for the average spirit.

Vessels Themselves Can Suck So It's Worthwhile to Put Some Thought Into It

I believe that the more a spirit vessel is the embodiment of the spirit themselves, the easier it is for the spirit to use that vessel to interact with us and our present reality.

An extreme example can help demonstrate this point.

Imagine you've gotten to know a water spirit. A mermaid, let's say, from an ocean world of pure, opalescent waters, where coral reefs are cities and pet jellyfish are decorated with pearls.

Imagine that the vessel for this mermaid is a jar painted red and decorated with symbols of fire, then further charged with fiery energy. Within the jar is rusty nails, polluted water from the side of the highway, and a heaping spoonful of chili flakes.

I would hazard a guess that you couldn't even agree to get that mermaid to use such a vessel as a telephone line, much less use it as their physical body.

It's not that the spirit is snooty - it's that you're asking him to come into contact with things that irritate and burn him. Not only would it require a huge amount of energy to overcome these differences, but the vessel would nonetheless cause him discomfort.

Intuition may even advise that a simple bowl of water would create a vastly improved "house" vessel for this spirit.

But if it's true that a vessel can be incompatible with a spirit, then it's reasonable to assume that a vessel can be made more and more compatible with a spirit, until it is highly compatible and therefore very easy for the spirit to link to it and use it.

To really improve our mermaid vessel, we might embroider the outside of a bag with a representation of a coral reef, place jellyfish charms and imitation pearls inside of it, and often soak the entire bag in cool, pure water.

This may be the perfect vessel for our mermaid, but totally unsuitable to the pollution monster, who wants to live inside of the rusty nails jar.

This is the primary reason why I find simple unmodified single-object vessels to be not that great. (Examples of this would be, a crystal ring or antique object purchased and used without modifying it to the tastes of the spirit)

While a spirit may select such an object from a lineup and request it's use as a vessel, that doesn't mean that it's going to be an effective vessel.

Especially combined with beliefs in witchcraft about the magical impact of modifying vessels to encapsulate the power of a spell or spirit,

I believe that an unmodified object for use as a spirit vessel is like casting a candle spell with a plain candle to which no herbs or energies are added, and all you do is imprint your raw intent and light the candle.

It'll maybe work, but not nearly as well as it could.

Therefore I believe the form of the vessel matters beyond whether or not the spirit personally likes it, and extends into the realm of sorcerous technique - spirit manifestation is affected depending on if the spirit vessel is made well or made poorly, and especially how much it is physically personalized to the spirit.

Creation of a Useful Vessel

In all cases: Modify the object(s) of the vessel as much as possible to reflect the nature and known qualities of the spirit. As much as possible, work with the spirit to choose modifications, or, work with known lore or with the assistance of spirit workers or diviners.

In the case where a single object (such as a stone) must be used:

Tie the object up in a net where each knot represents a foothold for the spirit to cling on to, or, where each knot ties up a bundle of energy of the sort of thing the spirit likes. (Can be then worn as necklace)

Paint or carve the object, even in a hidden area.

Add additional decorations and embellishments to reflect either the nature of the spirit, or to represent useful tools that the spirit can use to access the object.

Carve out the middle and add bits of paper (with name and permissions written on), and stuff with relevant herbs.

Sight-unseen, I wouldn't recommend single object vessels if you can't heavily/permanently modify them.

In the case where a container vessel (such as a bag, box, or bottle) may be used:

Decorate the exterior, and if space permits the interior, of the container to best reflect an environment enjoyable to the spirit. Consider various techniques: painting, embroidery, carving, burning, and so forth.

Selectively include objects which reflect the spirit's nature, including dried plants, stones, feathers, seeds, bones, and various objects from nature; also charms, trinkets, and tokens (factory-made is fine); also prayers or poems, or drawings or artwork, all of these things symbolic of the spirit and attempting to demonstrate its nature and totality

Include a written sigil or signature of the spirit, and it's name or known names, and epithets. Often best done in fancy magical ink if any is on hand. (I use Sharpies; no need to over-think it)

Charms, amulets, plants, prepared powders or oils, or otherwise, for the purpose of facilitating spirit manifestation and ease of travel between worlds; examples may include specially prepared threads to symbolize links and roads, special spirit-calling powder, magnets to "draw towards," symbols of the Crossroads or of safe and easy travel, and so forth.

In the case where the spirit is likened to an earthly animal, bones or preserved body parts are a very good addition.

In the case where the vessel is itself in the form of a body, such as a figurine or doll:

Hand-craft or heavily modify the creation to represent the vibes as much as possible

Dress, accessorize, ornament, and decorate the figure to represent the spirit or it's known attributes and purposes.

As handicrafters known more about their trade than I do, I don't want to over-comment. Make them a little body. Yes.

Inviting the Spirit to Utilize the Vessel

Unfortunately I will decline to try and provide a specific step-by-step ritual, mostly because I work more intuitively and don't actually have one written up.

But I'll do my best to explain how you can go about it, and some things to consider.

Basically, you'll want to conceptualize four steps:

Final magical preparations

Consecration

Dedication

Invitation

I'll try to explain the reasoning behind including these things, and of course, you'll want to modify or change all of them according to your preferences and needs.

In all cases: Use your magic to make the vessel lovely and filled with spiritual virtues that resonate deeply with the nature of the spirit. This is necessarily vague; a troubleshooting primer for energy work is beyond the scope of this post.

The timing of this work is very well done on special days where the spirit-roads are open, on full moons, or on Mondays.

In cases where the spirit already has a vessel and you want to give them a new one, there is no difference in operation. Make profane and reclaim the old vessel afterwords according to your desires.

Fill the vessel with two types of energy: The first being dense caloric energies from foods, especially oil, nuts, seeds, eggs, and fatty meat. This can be done by placing a food offering next to the vessel and dedicating the food to the spirit.

The second being ethereal and subtle energies, such as produced from blessed incense or energy work. This can be done by blessing and offering incense as you normally do, or channeling your personal energy into the vessel.

Consecrate the vessel: Perform any charm or ritual in your practice which delineates an object as being sacred and separate from the everyday, and turns the object into a Spirit Vessel. (Add'l details below)

Dedicate the vessel: Perform any charm or ritual in your practice which functions to formally gift-give an object to a god or a spirit.

Sometimes, a consecration and a dedication are done in the same ritual, especially when a god is concerned. E.g., "Witchfather, by your name this wand is made holy (consecration). I give this wand to you; it is yours, and when I use it, your hand guides it (dedication)."

The most simplest format of this is something like, "by [the powers I believe allow me to make thing sacred], I make this object sacred [and perhaps I sprinkle some saltwater or whatever formula I believe is necessary to help me make things sacred]. This object is now the vessel for a spirit. Now, it is a Spirit Vessel."

The above being the idea of a consecration; the dedication then being something like,

"[Spirit Name], I invite you into my world and my life. I give you Permission to dwell in this Spirit Vessel and make it your body and your home. I give you Permission to walk in this world through the conduit of this Spirit Vessel. It belongs to you, it is you."

(The above dedication perhaps also revealing something about why "telephone lines" may be a safer bet, the dedication for those being something like, "[Spirit Name], I invite you to observe this vessel and place your fingerprint upon it, so that when I work over it I call out to you, and you can hear me easily no matter how far apart we are.")

Anyway, put some real thought into exactly how much you want this spirit to manifest in your life, because spirit experiences - even when desired and invited - can be very intense and scary, especially if up to that point your experiences with spirits has been limited.

Invite the spirit into the vessel: If not included in your dedication, also formally invite the spirit.

"[Spirit Name], I've prepared this special Vessel for you, and given it to you. I have prepared the way with earthly and aethereal energies, so you may be well-fed and have the power to move within our world. [That's the offering bit innit]. Come now at this time and here in this place, and claim this Vessel as your own."

Etc., something like that.

At this time, the ritual is over with and you can commune with the spirit as desired or close the ritual down in your normal techniques.

Again, if there is an additional/old spirit vessel you no longer want to use, try talking with the spirit about what to do with it; but you can just let it "run dry" and then carefully undo the magic on it. After that, do with it as you please.

#answered #spirit vessels #spirit work #witchblr

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pinkyjulien · 4 months ago

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"Important update for flat chest mod users!"

Addressing Streetkid-named-desire and Wanderingaldecaldo unecessary update on the Flat Chest Detector and their claim of it being for the "community's sake"

The update for the Flat Chest Detector has now been reverted

Apologise in advance for the salt and for the upcoming modding lesson

TL:DR

Both the Wearable Flat Chest and Flat Chest Body mods were already compatible; this "important update" is nowhere near important for users who already used either or both mods together They will continue to be perfectly compatible and you do not need this now reverted "update"

Let's start from the begining;

For pride this month, I've released a binder-like mod, in the form of a wearable flat chest

I've published my Wearable Flat Chest on June 14th

On the same day, Streetkid-named-desire made multiple posts publicly trashing my mod and assuming all kind of stuff

You can see my response to these assumption here

One person that have been really supportive of their post is WanderingAldecaldo; its not really important to point it out but for those who know she's been passively harassing me for the past 4years, it's nothing surprising and explain a lot as to why this is happening at all.

Side note: WanderingAldecaldo has been blocked back in early 2021 I've been avoiding her and her content ever since; the only reason I know of this reply is because my friends warn me of everything that might create unecessary stress in the near or far future, like today

Anyway, these two were mad at my mod because they did not like it

Shortly after the release of my wearable chest mod, I contacted Berdagon, creator of the Bulge Detector script, and asked him if I could commission another script from him

Modding lesson time: To understand the nature of the problem, it's important to understand how dynamic mods works, I'll try to make it as simple as possible and link to the wiki when necessary The majority of body mods now have Body Tag As you can see on the Wiki, the Flat Chest Body have a body tag as well, meaning it's compatible with Dynamic Refit

But what are Dynamic Refits? In the past, modders had to publish their refits as replacers, meaning an additional mod that users who use custom body mods had to download along the main clothing mod Some body mods, like Adonis, VTK small and VTK big do not support dynamic refits yet, and still requires replacers

Now, the majority of mods come directly packed with refits, meaning whatever compatible custom body will get detected by AXL and the correct mesh, the correct refit, will automatically be used when equipping the garment For that, clothes modders can use multiple ways of including Dynamic Refit detection; I personally use Subtitutions to detect both the gender and body

Here's my latest garment mod structure; you can see my Dynamic Refits for both female and male frames, for both Gymfiend and Angel AND You can also see my dynamic refits for my wearable flat chest, the meshes that ends with "_flat"

Now, if dynamic refits are already a thing, why did I need to commission the Flat Chest Detector? Because as I said earlier, and in my initial mod release, my Flat Chest is not a body mod; it's a wearable garment, it's a "binder" and I wanted it to work like a proper binder. Body mods tags are directly included in AXL I needed a custom script to detect my custom modded garment as something that could influence other garments only when equipped

As you can see in my own mod, Dynamic Body Refits and the Flat Chest Detector already works fine together, as I've used it in my mod for my racerback top and my fishnet top, refited for the Angel body, so why did they need to edit it to "make it compatible" ?

Well that's the thing. They did not have to, as it's already compatible.

To be perfectly clear here, the flat chest body and the wearable flat chest are two really different mods; in how they're structured, in how they're made, how they work and in how they LOOK too. SKD made it really clear in their multiple vent posts how much different they are

SKD mention it again in their recent post; the two chest are different, they requires different refits to avoid clipping, which is Normal for different mods and has always been normal for body mods

You can't use EBB refits for EBBP, you can't use EBBP for Angel, you can't use Angel for Lush, etc etc etc. Even Adonis and Gymfiend, while being similar, require different refits.

I don't see any logical reasons why my flat chest has to be treated differently

If clothes modders want to fit both chest mods, they can do it already, by using the Flat Chest body visual tag, and using the wearable Flat chest script detector (I made a tutorial for it)

Here, let me show y'all how easy it is

Boom, now my mod is compatible with both the Flat Body mod and the wearable flat chest! Wow, can't believe how hard that was.

Does it look confusing? Sure, if you don't know what you're doing, which I'm assuming is why both Wash and SKD felt the need to go and ask for an edit of the script for no reason

Let me explain it so you two don't go up other people's business in the future

the {body} substition will detect the first "_flat" as being the flat body mod, automatically using the correct "flat" refit that fit Na's body

if equipping my wearable flat chest, the mod will automatically switch to the "_flat_flat" version, thanks to the flat chest detector script and to how I set up my garment entity's components

The name of the meshes doesn't matter for the Flat Chest Detector, I could've named it "_flat_butusethisonefortheequipableflatchest" and it would've worked all the same.

See how easy that is? Yeah. It was always this easy, always this approchable, always this simple.

Making it really clear: I did NOT give them permission to edit my racerback set mod

My clothing mods were made for the wearable flat chest only, I did not include refits for the flat chest body mod

They edited my mod without permission so that it could be detected and work with the flat chest body mod. They edited my mod and its structure to change it to use their new "BaseBodyFlat" tag, that did not need to exist, just so they could use my refits

Instead of asking to make their own refit for the body mod they want, if they really liked the clothes this much and wanted to use them? Like normal users? Like users have been doing for the past years?

I commissioned (= paid) the Flat Chest Detector script for my mod to work with dynamic refits. Body Mods already have access to dynamic refits and modder could already make refits for both flat chests if they wanted to, like I said multiple time in this post

This script edit did not need to be created.

I wish WanderingAldecaldo would leave me and my stuff alone. She had no business "looking into the script in the first place", for what reason? Like I said, everything was working fine before

Its fine not to know how new tools and system works, but ffs.

Don't go and edit people's work without their permissions and make a fuse about it online, proudly displaying it as some kind of service to the community, a service to modders and to users, because it's really not

I've already talked with Berdagon, he obviously had no idea about all the beef and all the drama that happened regarding the Flat Chest, and I'm not mad at him for updating the script; I'm sad that he has been used as a tool in this pathetic little "fandom war" disguised as a "service for the community"

From what Berdagon told me and what I've seen, Ratstick (= SKD) has been really persuasive in making it seems like this update would "beneficiate everyone, users and modders" when all it did was making both Berdagon and Psiberx work and edit their script for no reason, because again, it was already possible to fit both bodies in the same mods if you wanted to since everything involved support dynamic refits

It's up to clothes modders to decide which mod they want to support.

Don't edit their work without their permission, it should be a commonly known and respected fact, but it seems I was mistaking

Sorry for the long post, as you can imagine I'm properly pissed, but I hope this was easy to understand and maybe even educative on how clothes mods and scripts work

#Cyberpunk 2077 #fandom wank #modding shenanigans #long post

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fallinallincurls · 10 months ago

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in picture frames, in all my dreams, you’re the one i want

this is my entry for @wyattjohnston 's winter fic exchange 2k24!! i wrote this fic for the lovely @laurenairay and i hope you love it so much! i had the best time writing this one (which means there will probably be more brock fics in the future). and shoutout to @tonyspep for bouncing ideas around with me as always!

i also made a playlist for this fic as well if you'd like to check it out!

hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx

word count: 3.8k+

~~~~~

This was not supposed to happen. You were supposed to be on a plane back to Minnesota right now so you would be home in time for Christmas. But when you arrived at the airport earlier, the board of departures were full of canceled flights including yours. And when you brought your dilemma to the customer service desk, they informed you that all flights out of Vancouver were either booked or canceled through the 26th. The day after Christmas.

That’s how you ended up where you are now. Frantically knocking on your best friend’s front door and trying to hold back the overwhelming urge to cry.

“Come on, come on, come on.” You mutter to yourself, knocking one more time in hopes that the one person you want to see right now will answer.

At that very moment, the door swings open to reveal a cozy but sleepy looking Brock. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweats with an old Canucks t-shirt. His blonde hair is tousled but still somehow looks perfect and his blue eyes light up at the sight of you. You love seeing him like this, so soft and relaxed. The Brock that the media and fans don’t know, but you do.

“Uh, hi. Again.” You say quietly while offering a watery smile.

“Y/N?” Brock asks, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. You don’t blame him, it is only six in the morning. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you going home today?”

“Well yeah, but the insane snow storm had other plans. My flight was canceled and I can’t get anything until after Christmas. So I’m kind of stuck here.”

“A week of me wasn’t enough for you?” He teases, that familiar smile brightening up his face. You just shrug in response, your lips just barely tipping up at his playfulness.

Without saying another word, Brock pulls you into his arms for the tightest hug. It takes everything in you not to sob against his sturdy chest as the warmth and comfort he always carries surrounds you.

“I’m going to miss Christmas.” The terrifying admission tumbles from your lips as tears start falling. You’ve never missed a Christmas at home with your family and you can’t imagine spending the magical day stranded halfway across the continent.

“No, you’re not.” Brock murmurs, smoothing your hair down as he holds you. The small gesture immediately makes you feel more at ease. It’s something only he knows that will help calm you down when you’re upset. Before you protest, Brock makes a split second decision. “You’re going to spend Christmas here, with me. We’re going to celebrate Christmas together. And you can stay here since all the hotels are probably booked or mad expensive, it’s just easier.”

It takes a moment for Brock’s words to register in your mind, but when they do, your heart swells. Of course he would welcome you in for a holiday that you weren’t supposed to spend with him. He would do anything for you and he’s been that way since you were kids. But right now, you’re more grateful than ever for his kindness.

“Are you sure? I was only supposed to visit you for a week.” You ask faintly, voicing the only worry that surfaced at his suggestion.

When the University of Minnesota, the school that you’re currently a professor at, announced the dates of winter break, you immediately booked a flight out to Vancouver to spend some much needed time with your best friend. It’s tough to see Brock during the season because classes are also in session and schedules almost never line up. But you weren’t letting this opportunity pass by. The past week has been spent catching up and doing everything that was physically possible together. You couldn’t have been happier you made the trip until the debacle this morning put a damper on the unbelievable happiness you’ve been feeling since you arrived in Vancouver.

“And the weather said a week wasn’t long enough.” Brock says, his tone of voice telling you there was no room for arguments. “I won’t let you spend Christmas alone so we’re doing this, okay? Plus, I don’t think Coolie and Milo will mind having you around for a few more days. You know how much they love you.”

“The dogs aren’t the only ones who love me.” Brock smiles at your playful comment and can’t help but chuckle at the truth of the oblivious statement. The full extent of his feelings for you that he’s been hiding for years is unknown to everyone but himself. And maybe Quinn and Petey. But he won’t admit how he feels about you until he knows the moment’s right, until maybe there’s a chance you feel the same way.

So he shrugs nonchalantly and lets a laugh slip past his lips while ignoring the way his heart races just from looking at you. Before he can say anything in response, you’re surging forward to hug him again.

“Thank you so much, really. It means the world to me. You have no idea.”

“You know I’d do anything for you.” Brock admits, honesty seeping through each word. “Besides, spending Christmas with you just made my holiday a lot more exciting.”

“Please,” You roll your eyes in response, but the softest smile blossoms across your lips and the insane amount of anxiety that was consuming you a few minutes ago has already started to dissipate.

“C’mon,” Brock starts, pulling you through the door and over the threshold of his apartment. “You’re probably exhausted so let’s get you a nap and we’ll go from there.”

There’s no resistance as he leads you to his bedroom, hands you one of his t-shirts and tells you it’ll all be okay. Before you know it, you’re under the blankets, wrapped up in the warmth and coziness of Brock’s bed, drifting off to a much needed sleep.

When you wake up a few hours later, well rested and feeling much better, you find yourself squished between two large dogs. A giggle slips past your lips at the sight.

“Hey guys!” You exclaim, not wasting a second to give both Coolie and Milo some pets. “Lucky you, I’ll be here for a couple more days which means you’ll get plenty of extra snacks.”

“No, they won’t!” Brock calls from somewhere in the apartment, making a laugh bubble up in your throat. Even if your Christmas isn’t going to go as you had planned, you’re glad that you’ll be spending it with your favorite person in the world.

The dogs race ahead of you to find Brock as you start making your way down the hallway. Although you’ve spent a decent amount of time in Brock’s apartment over your weeklong visit, you take a few extra seconds to look over the collection of pictures he has hanging on the wall throughout the hallway. Photos of him with his family, smiling with teammates, namely Petey and Quinn who you know have become his best friends, views from his many trips to different places around the world and of course, snapshots of you and him together.

A smile blossoms on your face as you look over the memories frozen in time in each photo, laughing to yourself at the ridiculous ones Brock has hanging up that feature his teammates and you. But just before you’re about to head down the stairs to find him, one picture catches your eye. You don’t know how you missed it over the last week, but you must have.

Because staring back at you are little versions of you and Brock, flashing big, beaming grins at the camera in front of the sign to the summer camp you both attended for years. That’s how the two of you met and you remember looking forward to the summer just because it meant seeing and spending time with Brock. Even though you both lived in Minnesota, it wasn’t until you were older that you were able to communicate outside penpal letters sent in the mail and the ninety days you spent together on the campground where you both formed memories that will last a lifetime.

You couldn’t have been more than seven in the photo and it’s clear that both of you are happier than ever. That feeling is still present today whenever you’re with Brock, it’s nestled deep within your heart like it belongs there forever and you’ve carried it around for most of your life. It only took you years after he already had moved to Vancouver to realize that happiness can often be mistaken for love.

Shoving those thoughts away, you bound down the stairs to meet your best friend again. There’s a new pep in your step as you’re determined to make the most of every second this Christmas even if it’s not what you expected. You’re here with Brock which is all you could ask for.

A gentle smile is already on your lips when you get to the bottom floor, but you halt almost immediately when you see the scene in front of you. Coolie and Milo are wearing the cutest doggie holiday sweaters and Brock is softly grinning while leaning against the kitchen counter which is full of a wide variety of baking ingredients. And when your eyes look over the living room, you notice a box labeled “ornaments” sitting atop the coffee table, undoubtedly full of all of the beautiful ornaments that were carefully hanging from the branches of Brock’s Christmas tree just hours ago.

“What is-”

“I told you we were celebrating Christmas and we’re going to do it the right way.” Brock simply explains, blue eyes twinkling with joy and you see a flicker of nervousness there too. Like he isn’t sure if you like the gesture.

“Brock,” You breathe out, his name just above a whisper.

“I know you love decorating the tree on Christmas Eve so I just took down the ornaments so we can do it together. And your family always bakes cookies the night before Christmas too and I surprisingly already had most of what we needed for the recipes.”

There aren’t enough words to properly show the gratitude, the love, that’s swelling in your chest so you just cross the room and wrap your arms around him in the tightest embrace. Brock immediately responds, pulling you even closer to him, and for a moment everything feels right.

“Thank you,” The words are quiet, but Brock hears them and presses a delicate kiss to the top of your head. You pray he doesn’t feel the way your heart skips a beat at the sweet action and he must not because he pulls away with a big smile and a hint of mischief mixed with something else you can’t quite place evident in his eyes.

“Of course, you deserve nothing less. What do you want to do first?” He asks, ready to jump into either activity. But it’s right then that everything clicks.

“Wait, you went out in the snow to get the rest of the ingredients we needed?”

“Well, yeah, it’s not too bad. Compared to the snow we used to get at home, this is like nothing.”

“But it’s cold! And how did you get the recipes for my favorite Christmas cookies without-” You trail off, the realization setting in at the same moment Brock speaks up to confirm your suspicions.

“I called your mom. She was more than happy to share the recipes with me when I explained what I was up to. That was the easiest part actually!”

If you weren’t already head over heels in love with him already, this moment would’ve sealed the deal. You can’t believe he went through all this trouble just to make the holiday special when you weren’t even supposed to be here in the first place. Nothing but adoration rushes through your veins and you can feel the blush creeping into your cheeks. Without hesitating, you lean up to kiss his cheek as yet another silent thank you and his skin almost immediately turns pink.

“Alright, let’s do this, yeah?” He asks, distracting you from his reaction to the little gesture the two of you have been doing since you were younger and pulling you into the kitchen. It doesn’t take long for Christmas music to be turned on, filling the air with even more of a festive feeling. Brock makes sure your apron is tied on, just like you do for his, and then you’re off baking. You teach Brock all the techniques you’ve learned over the years from making these recipes and you get the pleasure of seeing him so free and happy.

You want to see him like this for the rest of your life. A big smile on his face, eyes crinkled in happiness and no sign of any stress hanging over him.

“What are we going to do with all these cookies?” The question falls off your lips after Brock slides the last batch into the oven.

“Easy. You’ll take some back home with you so your mom can see how much of an awesome job I did and the rest I’ll give to the team. A lot of them won’t say no to homemade cookies even if it’s the middle of the season.”

“If you say so,” You giggle, not being able to picture his teammates willingly accepting Christmas cookies when they’re in the middle of the best season the team has had in a long time. But you don’t argue, just set aside the best looking cookies that you and Brock decorated for Quinn and Petey, and sneak one to Coolie and Milo too, before getting the kitchen back in order.

After everything is cleaned up so the kitchen doesn’t look like a total disaster anymore and you both enjoy the takeout that Brock ordered for dinner, no time is wasted in moving to the living room to decorate the Christmas tree.

“Okay, where do we start?” You contemplate, gently placing your full mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table while surveying the tree glittering in the corner of the room.

“I forgot how seriously you take decorating for the holidays.” Brock chuckles, opening the box that he put all the ornaments back in earlier. He didn’t really forget, in fact, he missed it more than anything. That’s more than half the reason he spent so much time taking every single bauble off the tree. Yes, he wanted to make sure Christmas was as magical for you as it would’ve been back home, but he also selfishly wanted to share this moment with you too.

And he’d be lying if he said his heart isn’t full to brim right now with what he knows is love. Not that you can tell or would ever know that.

“The tree is serious business!” You exclaim with a chuckle, watching as Brock carefully starts removing ornaments from the box one at a time. He hands you a simple, but gorgeous blue ball to hang up first.

Slowly, but surely, the two of you decorate the tree with the wide variety of ornaments Brock has. He tells you the stories behind the ones his teammates have gifted him, shares the laughter with you when he stumbles across one that has a picture of him as a toddler in the picture frame and recounts the memories of family or solo vacations whenever he hands you one that was clearly bought at a tourist shop. There’s a soft smile on Brock’s face that never disappears and you swear he keeps sneaking glances at you.

The tree becomes more festive as each decoration once again finds a home on its branches and not for the first time today, you forget that this isn’t where you were meant to be for the holiday. But you’re kind of grateful for the snowstorm now. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have gotten to do any of this with the man who you’ve wanted for years.

“It’s done!” You cheer with excitement when you place the last ornament on the tree. “We did a pretty good job. Don’t you think?” Stepping back to admire the beautiful work you both did, your shoulder bumps Brock’s and that familiar shock of warmth floods through your veins at the brief contact.

“It’s the best Christmas tree I’ve ever seen.” Brock responds playfully, but there's a faint tone of seriousness evident in his voice. His eyes are glistening in the glow of the lights and you can’t deny how perfect he looks so cozy and joyful like this.

A few seconds later, without you realizing, Brock slips away to put the box away until it was time to take all the holiday decorations down in a few weeks. But to his surprise, there is one last ornament sitting in the box that was somehow forgotten.

“Y/N,” Brock laughs, picking up the decoration. “We forgot one.”

“No way! What is it?” Nothing but curiosity and excitement is evident in your voice. You cross the room to Brock and lean into his side to see what the mystery ornament is.

And when you get a glimpse, your breath is stolen away. Because in Brock’s hand is a small photo of a grinning little boy and girl sitting together at a picnic table inside a picture frame made of colored popsicle sticks. The two words “best friends” are written in black marker across the bottom of the frame in a neat, but childish looking style of handwriting.

Recognition washes over you instantly.

“I made that,” You start, almost stunned as you look between the homemade ornament and Brock’s face.

“You did. Like decades ago.” Brock chuckles, the sound fills the room with happiness and light. He still remembers the day you gave him this little gift. It was the last day of summer camp and before you both said goodbye with a promise to see each other soon, you gave him the gift. For only being nine years old at the time, Brock thought it was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for him. Plus, that way he had a little piece of you back home too.

Since then, he’s cherished this adorable, homemade ornament like nothing else. It always seemed a little silly to him, to hold onto a childhood craft, but seeing your reaction right now tells him it means just as much to you as it does to him.

“And you still have it. You kept it all this time?”

“Of course I did.”

“Why?” The question is gentle, but full of genuine interest. There’s a beat of comfortable silence as Brock battles with his thoughts for a moment. He knows this is it. This is the moment he finally tells you how he feels. All of the nerves and worries he had about confessing how his heart beats just for you falls away in mere seconds.

Your brows furrow at the strange look on his face. His blue eyes are full of an emotion you can’t place and the softest smile graces his lips. But more than anything, there’s a trace of clarity on display across his features. His gaze flicks down to your lips a few times before he speaks.

“Because you’re my best friend.” Brock whispers, each word carrying more weight than ever before. “But I don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.” He admits, a weight lifting off his shoulders as the words hang in the air for a moment.

He doesn’t have to say anything else because you know what it is right then. He is in love. With you.

“And you’re my best friend, but I want us to be more too.” Brock’s face practically lights up at your response, knowing that you feel the same way he does. It almost feels like a dream that after years, he doesn’t have to wonder anymore if you have fallen for him too.

“Can I kiss you?” Brock asks with a gentle voice as one hand settles on your hip before pulling you in closer. “We did somehow end up under the mistletoe.” He points up to where the collection of leaves are hanging in the entryway you’re both standing under. You can’t help but laugh at the sight and nothing but pure elation fills your heart.

“Yes, please.”

He cradles your cheek with one hand while the other stays on your hip, keeping you pressed against his body. You can’t help the smile that blossoms on your face before his lips catch yours in the softest, most passionate kiss you’ve ever experienced. The rough feel of his scruff against your smooth skin makes you giggle a little bit, which Brock responds to by deepening the kiss even more.

It’s absolutely perfect. You’ve dreamt of this exact moment more times than you’d like to admit, but it’s everything and more. And by the way Brock is holding you, it’s obvious he’s been waiting for this too.

When he reluctantly pulls away a few seconds later, there’s a new glimmer that you’ve never seen before in his bright blue eyes. He looks like the human form of sunshine right now and you can’t take it. You reach up to brush a lock of blonde hair back off of Brock’s forehead. He gives your hip a reassuring squeeze, a reminder that this is in fact real.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Brock murmurs, his smile just mere centimeters away from yours.

“I think I do.”

And without hesitation, you lean in to kiss him again. Once because it’s been a long night, twice because it’ll be alright, three times because you waited your whole life.

Before any fears or worries can creep in and ruin the moment, Brock wraps you up in a tight hug. Your head rests against his chest where you can hear his steady heartbeat.

“We’ll figure everything out. I promise.” He says calmly, somehow knowing what your next thought is going to be. “But it’s Christmas Eve and I don’t want to do anything else but enjoy being here with you.”

“I’ve never been so grateful for a snowstorm in my life.” You laugh, pure bliss humming through your body.

“Me either. Who would’ve thought that’s all it would’ve taken for this to finally happen?”

Later that night, when you’re snuggled up with Brock on the couch watching Home Alone while Coolie and Milo sleep nearby, you realize that you did in fact get to spend Christmas at home even though you didn’t make it back to Minnesota. Because Brock is home. Just being in his arms brings you the same kind of comfort and love you cherish so deeply.

Almost as if he can sense that you’re getting lost in your thoughts, Brock raises a brow in silent question when you look up at him. You just smile in response before leaning up to kiss his cheek which earns you a sweet grin.

“Merry Christmas, Brock.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” Brock murmurs softly, brushing your hair behind your ear. “So happy my Christmas wish came true this year.”

#brock boeser #the winter fic exchange 2k24 #brock boeser fic #brock boeser fics #brock boeser x reader #brock boeser blurb #brock boeser blurbs #brock boeser imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #vancouver canucks #brock boeser fluff #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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kitten4sannie · 2 years ago

Text

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕹𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝕭𝖊𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘

part 1

Incubus! San x Fem! Reader x Boyfriend! Wooyoung

Genre: never-ending smut 🖤

Summary: All you wanted to do was go to bed so that you could have a nice Christmas morning with your boyfriend the following day. Unfortunately, you would have a late night visitor, and it wasn’t Santa Claus delivering presents.

W.C: 7.8k

Warnings: *possibly triggering content* mind control/manipulation, some initial resistance, dom! san, sub! reader, sub! wooyoung, mxm, brief (non sexy) choking, sacrilegious vibes, use of a crucifix (i said what i said 👀), use of a collar/leash, jealousy, pet names, name calling, degradation, praise, dirty talk, humiliation, manhandling, spit play, mutual masterbation, mutual cuckholding, oral (giving), cum swapping, wax play, nipple play, thigh riding, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, size kink, bulge kink, brief blood play, squirting, multiple orgasms, creampie

A/N: 🚂 choo choo🚂 next stop: smut city ✨ also shoutout to @cherryxsang for giving me the wonderful idea to make it christmas-themed, as well as the idea to include a collar and leash 🫶🏼 thank you, bestie!! merry xxx-mas, everyone! and i hope you all enjoy this naughty christmas present 🖤🖤🖤

Song Recs: none this time 😭 listen i was very tempted to just put carol of the bells as a joke but i had to restrain myself 😔✊🏼

Masterlist

➽───────────────❥

“Remind me why all you bought for your friend’s dog was a collar and leash?” you questioned, inspecting said gift and setting it down neatly inside the empty gift box on your lap.

Wooyoung, who was standing by the Christmas tree and admiring the way the twinkling lights routinely switched off from red and blue to an eye-catching shade of gold, craned his neck back to look at you with a scowl. “First of all, it was on sale.”

You bit back a laugh, amused with your boyfriend’s immediate attitude, quietly closing the box and taping down the sides.

“And, second of all,” he began, taking a few steps over to the couch and plopping down onto it, leaning his body against yours. “My friend had put it on his wishlist, so there.”

Slapping a pretty red bow on the top of the plain box and calling it a day, you gave Wooyoung a small nudge with your elbow. “But, you could’ve gotten it custom-done at least, you know? Get their dog’s name engraved into it or something. Just getting a basic one seems a bit lazy to me.”

Once Wooyoung grabbed the present from your hands and tossed it down onto the floor near the tree, he took a hold of your shoulders. “ ‘Seems a bit lazy to me,’ ” he said mockingly, as he eased you down onto the couch cushion below, climbing over you and leaning down near your face. “You better be careful before I put that collar on you myself.”

“Mm…” You reached your arms out to wrap around his neck and bring him in closer. “But you better be careful before I pull the lights off of the tree and wrap them around your cock so you can’t cum until I say so.”

“Is that a promise?” he asked softly, pressing his lips into the side of your jaw, slowly moving down to pepper kisses along the curve of your neck.

“Don’t tempt me, Woo. I’ll tie you up right now.” You held him close, moaning a bit when you felt him grow hard against your lower abdomen, immediately taking the opportunity to reach down and grip him through his boxers. “You’re so hard for me already…”

“It’s your fault, Y/N. Take some responsibility,” Wooyoung returned in a low voice, his fingers slipping into the neckline of your tank top and yanking it down so that your tits popped out of it. Hearing your gasp fueled him to suck one of them into his mouth and roll his tongue around it.

“Fuck…keep going…”

Wooyoung obliged, only stopping when you both heard the unmistakable sound of an ornament falling off of the tree and hitting the wood floor with a crunch. He sat up, watching as another, more sturdy one, dropped off of the branch it was on and rolled across the floor towards the couch where the two of you were tangled up.

“What the fuck…” you mumbled, exchanging glances with Wooyoung, before sitting up when he got off of you and went to grab the broom and dustpan.

Wooyoung came back and swept up the broken pieces of the ornament, chuckling at your frightened reaction. “I’m sure it was just some air blowing or something.”

“From where?” You pulled your top back up and scanned the corner of the living room near the tree, a strangely unsettling feeling developing in the pit of your stomach.

“From the heater, you know.” Wooyoung tossed the remaining fragments into the trash and came back to put the other bulb back onto the tree, making sure it was stable.

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense…” You stood up and rubbed your forearm, wondering why you felt so uncomfortable in that moment, like another pair of eyes were on you.

Wooyoung took notice of this and pulled you into a hug, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Don’t be so scared, baby. I’m here…”

“Mm…okay,” you nodded, feeling a little better now that you were in Wooyoung’s warm embrace.

“We should probably get to bed…It’s getting late.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Giving you a soft smile, Wooyoung slung an arm around your shoulders and guided you up the stairs into your bedroom.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the both of you, a shadowy figure emerged from behind the tree. The demon’s tattooed fingers clasped around the bulb Wooyoung had returned to the branch. He leaned in to look at his devilish reflection in it, a deep-sounding chuckle erupting from his throat.

“Rest while you can, you two…before all the fun begins.”

Waking up in a cold sweat, you swallowed dryly and looked over at your alarm clock, your eyes slowly focusing on the bright red numbers: 3:01 am. Groaning, you sat up and pushed yourself out of bed, figuring that you might as well get some water to satiate your parched throat.

Once downstairs, you shuffled into the kitchen and filled up a glass of water, chugging it down as soon as possible. “Ahh…” you sighed, wiping your mouth and setting down the empty cup inside the sink.

Hearing the unmistakable sound of another bulb falling to the ground nearby, you gripped the edge of your nonexistent sleep shorts and gingerly made your way over to the living room. Once you rounded the corner and noticed a dark figure near the Christmas tree, you mumbled, “Santa…?” You desperately hoped that you were right, despite the odds being stacked heavily against you.

The demon that you had crossed paths with only months ago was standing there, in all his naked glory, poking at another glittery bulb like an amused cat. “Did you mean San, sweetheart?” he questioned in a velvety voice, his striking cherry-red eyes locking with your wide ones.

“No! You are not ruining Christmas for me!” you cried, quickly making your way over to the ledge above the fireplace and picking up the crucifix that you and Wooyoung had purchased a while ago.

San scoffed, taking a few quick steps in your direction, his length swaying a bit between his thighs. “That’s rude. Ruin is a pretty strong word.”

Once the demon got too close for comfort, you held up the crucifix in front of you and gritted your teeth. “S-stay back!”

San took a step back and held his arms up defensively, an unexpected look of fear taking over his usually confident appearance. “Fuck, put that shit away!”

Gaining a bit of courage, you pushed towards him, stating, “I’ll put it away when you get the hell out of here!” You held the crucifix closer to his arms, hearing him hiss as if it was burning him.

Once you got incredibly close to him, San looked at you, his fear melting away into an eerily neutral expression. He lowered his hands and stood up straight, leaning his head back so that he could burst out in a self-satisfied fit of laughter. “You really thought you were doing something there! Holy shit, that’s gold.”

“Huh…?” You looked up at the demon in shock, slowly starting to realize that you never had any control in the situation.

Towering over you, San reached down to run a warm finger along your jawline, giving you a grin, his shiny white fangs glinting with the aid of the few burning candles that were sitting atop the ledge. “You know all that stuff is fake, right?”

“But…” You pouted, your arm slowly lowering to your side in defeat, wondering why every form of media had lied about how to get rid of unwanted demonic spirits.

San placed a hand against his lower abdomen, unable to keep himself from letting out another laugh, this one more arrogant sounding than the last. “You humans really just believe anything you’re told, huh? How pathetic.” He cracked his knuckles and moved his neck around, loosening the tension. “Now, come here, darling.”

“No!” you argued, taking a few small steps backwards.

Before you could defend yourself, the eager demon grabbed a hold of your neck and brought you down onto the floor, pinning you down with ease.

He chuckled, taking the crucifix from your hand and studying the fake jewels adorning the gold ridges around the top of it. “Humans were blessed with free will and yet some of them actively choose to deny themselves pleasure. What purpose does that serve? Especially when there’s so much debauchery to be a part of?”

You weren’t really paying attention to his words, too busy trying to pull his fingers away from your neck and hitting them with your closed fist when you couldn’t peel any of them off.

“Are you listening to me, sweetheart?” He leaned in towards your face to appreciate the anger etched into your features, his toothy, cheshire-like grin initially pissing you off a bit more than it turned you on.

Acting without thinking, you pursed your lips and sent a wad of spit in his direction, watching it land on his cheek and drip down along his sharp jaw.

“Oh, you’ve done it now,” he muttered, a deep growl reverberating from his ink-covered throat. He dropped the crucifix onto the floor with a low, resounding clang so that he could reach over and grab the nearest present, ripping it open and taking out the collar. “You want to act like a disobedient pet, huh? You don’t want to be good for me?”

Once he loosened his grip on you, you could finally take in a steady breath, but were unable to wiggle yourself out from under him, his body weight keeping you pinned to the floor. “I’m not your pet!”

San shook his head, his shaggy black hair swaying slightly along with his movements. “Stupid girl.” Undoing the strap of the leash, he reached down and put it on you, making sure it was tight enough to push into your skin, but not enough to fully choke you. “You say you’re not my pet, but yet here you are, wearing a collar, with your pretty little cunt soaked for me like a bitch in heat.”

San sure had a way with words, you would have to admit. Were you actually into this as much as he was?

Judging by the way your body was already screaming for the demon to touch you, the signs were pointing to a definite yes.

“Get this fucking thing off of me,” you protested half-heartedly, encouraging him to tug on the edge of the leash near the collar itself and force you to look up into his spellbinding irises, keeping you still with his inhuman strength.

“Now why would I do something like that? I’m having so much fun. Aren’t you having fun?”

“No,” you lied through your teeth, secretly wishing that he would shove his tongue inside your mouth so that you could experience the aphrodisiac-like effects of his saliva.

“You will soon, darling.” He leaned in close, his forked tongue slipping out past his lips to run along your jaw, tasting you. It burned your skin like last time, but you couldn’t deny that it felt incredibly good this time around.

He let go of your collar, your head lowering back down onto the cool floor beneath you. “But, why now?”

Almost annoyed, San answered matter-of-factly, “I wanted to give myself a nice present this year. So I decided I would spend another night with you and your boyfriend.” Seeing the way you were starting to look at him with less malice and more interest, he purred lovingly, “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you the most, my pretty little toy.”

Swallowing harshly, you relaxed your previously tense body, opening your mouth without his explicit order to do so. “Aah…”

San grew incredibly hard from this, not wasting a single second to grab your jaw and keep it open, his face now inches away from yours. “Oh, I see. You’ll only be obedient if you’re feeling good, hmm? You want your body to feel so hot…” he began, running a thumb over your bottom lip, “…so sensitive, that you can’t even think straight?”

With your heart pounding away in your chest, you nodded slightly, your squished cheeks feeling warm to the touch. “Uh-huh…”

San’s pupils formed into small slits, just as he slipped his tongue past your parted lips, using it to coil around yours, his abundant saliva filling your mouth. He broke the kiss once you swallowed it down, your own pupils resembling saucers once you had.

“Good girl.” The demon climbed off of you and picked up the crucifix, licking his lips. “Now, since you weren’t listening to me earlier, I’m going to have to demonstrate just how passionate I am about sin.”

You sat up and looked at him curiously, not entirely sure where he was going with this. Regardless, you were ready for anything, the arousal surging throughout your body causing your lower half to ache almost painfully in anticipation.

San flipped the crucifix upside down, pursing his lips and letting some spit drip down the thick, long rod. “Go on and get yourself comfortable, sweetheart.”

You slid yourself over to the cold brick wall of the fireplace and pressed your back against it. Biting into your bottom lip, you gingerly spread your legs apart, your tiny shorts giving San an eyeful of your bare cunt, your wetness already dripping down onto the floor from the fast-acting effects of his saliva.

“Mm, look at you. All nice and wet for me, just like I knew you’d be.” He moved in your direction, settling next to you and lowering his hand down so that he could rub the polished end of the crucifix up and down your pussy, just barely teasing your hole with it.

“Shit…” you whispered, jolting abruptly when the tip of it rubbed into your sensitive clit.

“Hey, do you think God is watching us right now? Or a few nosy angels?” Different sounding voices, some deeper and some higher, came out as San spoke, the other beings channeling him making an early appearance. “You think they’re aroused? Or disgusted? Maybe both? Fuck, I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“San…” You whined a bit, equally disturbed and turned on by his preferred kink, almost unable to believe that you were so eager to be involved in such perversion, especially with your boyfriend still sleeping peacefully just a floor above you. Did it count as cheating if you were messing around with a supernatural being? Who knows.

“What’s wrong, love? You want it inside already, don’t you?” He chuckled into your ear, his tongue sliding out to lick along the shell of it, angling his hand down slightly and pushing the cold metal rod up into your entrance as deep as it would go. “Take it all for me…”

You responded with a sharp inhale, leaning your head back into the brick behind you, your eyes shifting to look into the demon’s glowing ones when he had begun to move it in and out of you. The rod was surprisingly thick and heavy, making you feel pleasantly full inside. “Oh my god…!”

When he witnessed the ‘o’ shape your mouth made and the moans that began to slip out, he mirrored it, his cock throbbing at the sight of the intrepid lust that had seemed to completely take over you. “Yeah? You like having a cross inside your cunt, baby? It feels good, huh? Does it make you want to worship God or me?”

“You, San…If you make me cum, I’ll worship you in any way you want…” You reached down to wrap your fingers around his wrist, moving it in a faster motion when you felt like he wasn't pleasuring you to the extent you truly needed.

“Fuuuck, you’re such a dirty little slut,” he groaned, gripping the edge of the cross and shoving it in and out of you, using his free hand to rub your clit in circles.

You couldn’t help but reach your arms out past San’s broad shoulders, your fingertips clutching his muscular back for support. “Don’t stop…”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Looking at you like you were his next meal, he slowly dragged his heavy tongue up the side of your flushed cheek, emitting a small ‘aah’ sound.

“Sounds…good…” you exhaled shakily, shivering from the tingling sensation on your skin where he left his saliva.

San continued to fuck you with the cross, his fingers moving rapidly across your clit, making sure to speed up his movements when your arousal began to squirt out of you and drip down the rod onto his hand. “Oh, baby, look at you…It feels so good, you’re already squirting for me?”

“Yesyesyesyes…Fuck, San…!” A ragged, desperate cry erupted from your throat, your nails dragging down the demon’s back and giving him fresh cuts, much to his delight.

After you came back down from your intense high, you didn’t feel fully satisfied and a little tired like you usually did with Wooyoung. Instead, you felt invigorated, your body almost vibrating at the thought of going another round with the demon sitting beside you.

“You’re drooling, my love,” he mused, wiping some of your spit away with the pad of his thumb and swiping at it with the very tip of his tongue. When you just sat there with your lips still parted and your eyes just as dilated as before, San felt the need to inform you of some new information. “Also, we seem to have a guest.”

You hadn’t noticed in the slightest, but Wooyoung had gotten up to investigate when he heard the muffled sounds of your blatant ecstasy coming from downstairs. He had just barely made it into the living room, standing incredibly still near the wall, not prepared to deal with this situation in the slightest.

“Woo!” you said excitedly, about to get up when San grabbed your chin and coaxed it open.

“Don’t swallow this time, okay? I want you to hold it in your mouth and let your cute little boyfriend have a taste.” As soon as he spoke, long strings of saliva began to drip down from his tongue down onto yours, causing you to moan in approval. Once San was done, he tugged a bit on the leash and gave you an eerie smile, whispering near your ear, “Go get ‘em.”

Once San let go of the leash, you sprung up onto your feet and sprinted towards Wooyoung, causing him to back up into the wall and hold his hands up defensively. “Oh, god, baby, no! Just stay right there! Don’t–”

Cutting your boyfriend off when your body collided with his, you didn’t waste any time forcing his jaw open and holding his face still. “Come on, have a taste...” You eased your combined spit into his mouth, your chest pressing against his bare one.

“M-mmn,” he mumbled, his knees almost buckling from the way your tongue lapped languidly at his. His cock instantly began to strain against the confines of his boxers from the relentless waves of arousal that were rushing through him. You opened your eyes slightly, wanting to see his next reaction.

Wooyoung groaned against your lips when your hand tugged his boxers down and off of his body, your fingers wrapping around the base of his cock.

Breaking the kiss, but staying in close proximity to his face, you purred, “God, you’re so hard and I’ve barely touched you, Woo.”

“You act like this doesn’t happen every time…”

Delighted by his response, you bit his bottom lip and gently tugged at it with your teeth, earning a moan from him. “Mmm, your cock won’t stop throbbing either.” You began eagerly pumping your hand and drinking in the sight of your boyfriend’s flushed face and drawn eyebrows.

“I…ahhh…can’t help it…”

In the middle of all this, San had made himself comfortable on the couch, watching you both in silence, not even bothered that his untouched length kept twitching periodically.

Wanting to make you feel just as good, Wooyoung slid his own hand past your shorts and rubbed two fingers into your sensitive clit, asking, when he heard you moan, “Yeah, baby? Does that feel good?”

“Really good…”

“You want my fingers inside you?”

“Please, Woo…”

Wooyoung let out a soft chuckle, dropping your shorts to the floor and sliding two digits into you so that he could eagerly shove them in and out, already knowing how to find your g-spot right away.

“Oh, fuck…Right there…!”

“I hear you, baby. I’ll take care of you.” Wooyoung’s tongue poked out of his mouth to wet his lips, grunting as he sped up his movements, encouraging you to do the same with him.

With your foreheads pressed together and hastily breathing in the same air, your eyes locked on one another’s, neither of you wanting to focus on anything else except for each other at that moment.

“Baby, I’m gonna…” Wooyoung announced, just barely loud enough for you to hear, his fingers curling a bit more inside your slick hole, leading you to feel like you were about to cum as well.

“Me too…I–…fuck…” Just as you felt the intensely warm build up inside you begin to overwhelm your senses, you slotted your lips onto Wooyoung’s, the both of you moaning into each other’s open mouths as you reached the height of your shared pleasure.

With his chest heaving, Wooyoung pulled his wet digits out and broke the kiss so that he could push them onto your tongue, letting you savor what had just poured out of you. “Does my baby like tasting herself?” he asked breathlessly, finding it incredibly arousing how you were sucking on his fingers and nodding your head in such an adamant way.

San brought a fist up to his mouth and cleared his throat loudly. “I hate to interrupt something this hot, but I think it’s about time you both got your asses over here.”

You and Wooyoung exchanged glances, almost forgetting about the supposed high-tension situation you were in. “Sorry,” was all you could come up with, unconsciously pulling at the tight collar San had put on you, waiting with baited breath to see how he would respond.

“You’re lucky I’m in the Christmas spirit.” San spread his legs open and pointed downward with one tattooed finger. “I want you both on your knees in front of me. Now.”

Without any hesitation, you both scrambled to the floor before San, sitting on your knees and looking up at him expectantly, completely at his mercy. The demon’s eyes glowed temporarily, the tip of his spiked tail flicking around in the air. “So obedient.”

You couldn’t even register San’s praise, too distracted by his stiff cock, the tip of it red, angry, and dripping with clear liquid. You swallowed your spit, but you couldn’t prevent a bit of drool from leaking out past your lips.

Noticing how hungry you looked, San took a hold of the leash in one hand and pulled it, yanking you closer to him so that you came face to face with his weapon of choice. “Mm, you haven’t gotten the chance to suck my cock yet, huh? I can see why you’re so eager.”

Wooyoung scooted closer to you, the side of his body pressing into yours, his fingers finding their way to your pussy and idly rubbing it up and down. “Go on, baby…”

Just as you lunged forward to devour San, he grabbed you by the chin and held it still. “Here’s your present,” he informed sweetly, slapping his heavy cock across your face and rubbing the tip of it over your lips, allowing you to taste his slightly salty pre-cum.

Despite being a little dizzy from the impact, you felt a major spike of pleasure shoot through you from this particular display of dominance, as well as from the way Wooyoung’s fingers kept gliding over your dripping cunt.

“Now, suck,” San ordered, pressing his cockhead to your mouth.

You took the initiative, dragging your tongue from the tip down to the base and sucking the side of it, cupping his balls in your warm palm and gently massaging them. “Mmm…”

“Gooood girl.” San slid down slightly against the plush couch behind him, moving a few strands of loose hair out of your face and behind your ear.

You teased him for an unspecified amount of time, until you suddenly felt the intense urge to feel him inside your mouth. When Wooyoung slipped a finger inside your cunt, you leaned in and allowed San’s length into your throat, your mouth stretching around it, diligently sucking him off for a while and using one hand to reach the rest of it.

Feeling like he would cum too soon, San groaned out, running his fingers through your hair. “Slow down, darling…slow down…” When you didn’t listen, he gripped the leash and tugged in the opposite direction. “I forgot how much of a greedy whore you are,” he mused, yanking you backwards off of his cock with a lewd ‘pop’, choking you temporarily.

You whimpered, leaning against one of San’s spread thighs, whining, “But, I wanted to make you cum.”

“You need to share. Look at your poor little boyfriend. Look at his face.”

You rubbed your throat just underneath the leather material so that you could soothe the irritated skin, looking over at Wooyoung who was drooling as well, his eyes focused solely on the demon’s curved length.

“Think he can handle this?” San asked you, prompting you to shrug your shoulders.

“Maybe, I don’t know.”

Retracting his hand from you, Wooyoung took major offense to your reaction and huffed, wrapping one hand around San’s cock, pumping it lightly. “I’ll show you. I’ll show you both.”

Wooyoung took in a fair amount of San’s cock, the sides of his mouth stinging from the sheer girth of it, but pressing on and bobbing his head. “M-mmm…”

“Fuck, that’s a good boy…” the demon sighed, watching him for a while until he suddenly gripped the back of Wooyoung’s head and fucked his mouth somewhat quickly, too consumed with lust to care if he was able to breathe or not. “Mm, take it, baby…”

Wooyoung took it the best he could, gagging profusely, with tears falling from his cloudy eyes. Due to never experiencing something so pleasurable before, his cock began dripping a large amount of pre-cum until he eventually came untouched, his load shooting out onto his chest. “Mmmnn…!”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing inside your ribcage, never realizing how incredibly turned on you could feel just from witnessing someone face-fucking your boyfriend in front of you. You couldn’t even be jealous. At least, not yet, anyways.

“Who knew your boyfriend was such a cockslut?” San exhaled in your direction, his dark eyes focusing solely on yours, even when he stopped thrusting and held Wooyoung still, his cock deep inside his throat. Hearing the young man gagging noisily around him, he groaned in ecstasy. “Hey, darling, you want to taste my cum too, don’t you?”

“Yes, please…” you whined softly, prompting San to yank Wooyoung off him, causing thick strings of saliva to leave his mouth and drip down his chin.

San slid his fingers around the back of your neck and held you in place on one side of his cockhead, grabbing the back of Wooyoung’s head, so that his mouth was positioned on the other side. “Let me see how bad you both want it…”

Exchanging a lustful gaze with Wooyoung, the two of you slurped on the tip, your lips and tongues occasionally meeting in the middle until San let out a loud strangled cry of pleasure. He pushed Wooyoung’s face away for a moment, wanting to see his favorite toy painted with his seed.

“Here you go, baby…” San gripped the back of your head with both hands and held you still, his load gushing out in long spurts, most of it landing on your face. You made sure to catch some of his cum inside your open mouth, about to swallow it, but stopping when you heard San whisper, “Share it with him…”

Obeying his request, you pulled your boyfriend into a sloppy kiss, his fingers interlocking with yours as you both swapped the milky liquid back and forth, the both of you moaning periodically.

Wooyoung pulled away so that he could wipe off the remaining cum from your face, then held his coated fingers up in between your mouths, allowing you both to lick and suck them clean.

If San had a soul, it would’ve left his body by now. Thankfully, he didn’t, so he was still good to go. However, he couldn’t help but feel a little bothered. There was so much pleasure to take part in, but so little time. He would have to make the most of it, knowing that he couldn’t truly use the two of you to the extent that he wanted, or else he risked the chance of completely draining your life sources.

Letting the two of you recover from the overload of endorphins that were plaguing your minds, San pointed to the ledge above the fireplace, ordering, “Grab one of those candles and bring it over here. Then, the both of you can make yourselves comfortable on my lap.”

Before you could move, Wooyoung had already jumped up and grabbed one of the melting candles, bringing it over to San and propping himself up on one of the demon’s large, muscular thighs. You got up and sat down on San’s opposite thigh, biting your bottom lip in anticipation.

The demon took the candle from your boyfriend and tilted it sideways, dripping some of the hot liquid along Wooyoung’s collarbones, as well as down his chest. “You like that?”

Wooyoung gasped in response, nodding his head, his cock growing hard once again from the pleasantly warm feeling of hot liquid running down his melanin skin.

“How about this?” San questioned in a low voice, holding the candle closer to Wooyoung’s chest so that some of the candle wax poured down over one of his nipples, making sure to do the same to the other one.

“Feels…so good…” Wooyoung arched his back, reaching up the play with one of his sensitive buds, squeezing it and pulling at it. “Play with me too, San…”

San ran his thumb over Wooyoung’s other pert bud, rolling it around in tight, small circles. “Such a mindless little whore.” He carefully set the candle down on the couch so that he could grip one of Wooyoung’s hips, bringing his mouth down near his chest so that he could lap at one of his buds with his forked tongue.

This, of course, drove your boyfriend crazy, leading him to begin mewling and grinding his cock into him. “It’s so good…so good…” he repeated, shuddering from how the demon’s drool began to drip down along his body.

“I bet, baby,” San returned in a raspy voice, completely entranced by how needy he was being, pulling Wooyoung’s body against his own, who whined almost immediately.

“I’m gonna cum again…” Wooyoung moaned, his brown eyes blown out with desire, slowly rubbing his bare chest onto the demon’s muscular one, unable to handle how sensitive his body was feeling.

“Uh-uh, you can’t be cumming so soon. At least, not until I’ve made your girlfriend squirt again.”

You let out a small whimper, leaning your head into the crook of San’s neck, feeling ignored but not voicing it. You felt his hand move up your lower back and caress it, but he didn’t pay attention to you quite yet.

“Want it on your cock?” Amused by Wooyoung’s eager nodding, San lowered the candle and slowly poured the warm liquid in a line across the young man’s throbbing erection.

“Fuuuck, San…!” Feeling the candle wax drip down the sides of his length, Wooyoung whined louder and continued rubbing himself into San’s lower abdomen in an unapologetic way until he cried out in ecstasy, cumming once again.

“Didn’t I just tell you not to cum? So selfish…” San muttered under his breath, his fingers gripping into the sides of the candle, glaring daggers at Wooyoung, who was too busy milking the last few drops of cum from his softening length. “Darling, pull some of the lights off of the tree for me, will you? And wrap them around this disobedient whore’s cock while you’re at it.”

Hearing San finally address you directly, you pulled yourself up from the couch and headed over to the tree, following his directions.

Wooyoung gulped nervously, before gasping when San suddenly shoved him to the ground below him. San then set the candle down onto the floor, his lips forming a lewd smile. “Guess what? You’re going to sit there and watch me pleasure your girlfriend for the rest of the night. I’ll make sure to take care of her in ways that you can’t. Does that sound good?”

“Very.” Wooyoung returned the smile and sat on his knees, shivering a bit when you began to wrap the Christmas lights around his body, binding his arms behind his back and making sure to coil the wire around his already stiffening cock. He looked up at you and frowned. “Hey, I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hog all of the attention earlier…”

“It’s okay, Woo, but it’s my turn now,” you returned, running your thumb over the slit of his cockhead just to tease him. “Enjoy the show~”

Wooyoung groaned softly, knowing he most definitely would enjoy every single second of it. It didn’t matter who was touching you, as long as you were feeling good.

“Come here, my love.” San beckoned you with his index finger, leading you to drop the rest of the lights so that you could lower yourself into his lap and straddle one of his thighs. Seeing the pout on your face, he settled his hands on your hips and pulled your body closer, tilting his head to the side. “You didn’t like being ignored, did you?”

“Uh-uh…”

“You want my attention that bad, huh?”

“Yes, please…I need it…” You ran your hands up his chest and wrapped them around his neck, feeling San squeeze his hands into the supple flesh of your hips and begin to grind himself into you.

“My darling little toy…you should’ve told me how desperate you were for my attention earlier,” he murmured into your ear, lifting his thigh up slightly while he continued to drag you along it, allowing it to press harder into your clit, making you moan.

“I didn’t want you to punish me…” You began to breathe somewhat heavily, due to San dragging your lower half back and forth at an even faster rate, your insides feeling like they were on fire.

“I thought you liked it when I punished you.”

“I do, but,” you started, unable to hold back a choked moan from the way San continued to control your body movements, his fingers digging deeper into your flesh and feeling the inner ridges of your hip bones. “I like it more when you’re like this…”

“Like what?”

“Sweet to me…” you replied in a soft voice, a light blush forming on your cheeks.

San didn’t know it was possible for him to feel such a pleasant warmth inside his chest. It almost made him sick, but he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed such a gentle sensation. “My love…” he whispered, pulling you into a surprisingly heartfelt kiss, still encouraging you to grind on his thigh, eventually driving you over the edge.

You cried out into his mouth, your arousal gushing out onto his lower half and dripping onto the couch cushion below. When he pulled away, you simply gazed into his hypnotic eyes, panting heavily.

“Did that feel good?”

“Mm-hmm…” You pressed yourself up against the demon, your fingers slipping into his raven hair. “Am I your favorite pet to play with?”

“Of course you are, darling.” Bringing one of his hands up to your neck and running a finger over the collar you had on, San asked, “Do you want me to give you a collar that has your name on it? One that I’ll put on you whenever I come by to fuck your brains out?”

You hugged San close to you, nodding your head so quickly, you didn’t even register Wooyoung’s obvious jealousy — but not the kind that you expected.

“That’s not fair,” Wooyoung pouted, his fingers twitching slightly behind his back. “I want one too…”

San looked past your shoulder down at Wooyoung, his once crimson eyes appearing to be completely black at this point. “Sorry, pretty boy. Maybe if you didn’t cum every five seconds, I would consider giving you one too.”

Trying to reclaim San’s focus, you hooked your fingers into the hem of your tank top and lifted it up and over your head, tossing it behind you, not noticing or caring that it landed on your boyfriend’s head. He shook it off, emitting a small whimper, but not exactly bothered by the position he was in.

“I’ll take care of you, my love. I’ll make you feel so good, you’ll never be able to think about anything else, except for me.” San reached for the candle and held it above your breasts, dripping some of it across your soft flesh, using his thumbs to rub the warm candle wax across your nipples.

“Fuck, San…” you gasped, arching your back when he poured a larger amount down the valley of your breasts, feeling it drip down your abdomen and onto your aching sex. “Please, I can’t take it anymore…”

“Yeah?” He blew the candle out and tossed it onto the floor, not caring that it rolled into Wooyoung’s leg, who was trapped between a state of immense pleasure and agony, his cock straining against the wire to the point that the tip of it was an angry shade of red. “Is there something you want, pretty girl?”

Feeling San’s large hands roam up your body and onto your tits so that he could grope and knead them to his heart’s content, you nodded, exhaling, “Your cock.”

“My cock?”

“I need it in me…”

“In your pretty little cunt?”

You blushed, your heart skipping a few beats inside your chest. “In my pretty little cunt…”

“As you wish, darling.” San let out a pleased huff of air, lifting your hips up and pushing the tip of his cock against your entrance, stretching you out so that he could slide you down onto it. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so tight.”

You let out a small cry, your fingernails digging into San’s back, trying to get accustomed to his unusually large size.

Glancing at Wooyoung over your shoulder, San gave the suffering young man a crooked smile. “You must not be hitting it right, huh? Your girlfriend’s tighter than those lights wrapped around your cock.”

Wooyoung bit his bottom lip, feeling humiliated, but still relishing the way San talked down to him, his tethered length twitching slightly as a response. “You should…show me how it’s done…”

San exhaled something in Latin, gripping either side of your ass and plunging himself deep inside you so that he could begin his pursuit of pleasure.

“It’s so big, San…” you moaned out, feeling like you were already descending into madness from the way he was pounding into you at such a brutal speed, the couch creaking so loudly underneath you that the springs could snap at any given moment. “So fucking big, I can barely take it!”

“You’re just tiny…” San squeezed his fingers into your ass and kneaded it, bringing you to let out a whine. “You think you’ll be able to go back to your boyfriend’s cock after this? Or will you be dreaming about mine?”

“I…”

“Look at him and say it,” he chuckled darkly, prompting you to turn your head back and look down at Wooyoung, who was gazing up at you with stars in his eyes.

“I’ll be dreaming about San’s cock the next time you–aah–fuck me, Woo…”

Wooyoung groaned, heavy amounts of pre-cum dripping down the head of his dick and onto the floor below. “I can’t blame you, baby…”

San was only able to take so much satisfaction at once, suddenly holding you down so that he was fully inside you. “Are you ready for me to fill her up with my cum, pretty boy?”

Wooyoung nodded his head, his dick aching so much that his eyes started to water. “Yes, fuck–fill her up for me, San! Please!”

San obliged, holding you completely still as he unloaded into your cunt, the gushing warmth of his cum so pleasurable that you came on the spot.

“I need more, San…” you whispered shakily, encouraging the demon to lift you up and guide your body so that you were facing the other way, your back against his heated chest.

“You read my mind, darling.” He shoved himself back into you, forcing some of the sticky liquid to drip down to the base of his length and pool around his inner thighs. “You’re still so fucking tight…I might actually lose it…”

“Then you better fuck me until I get used to your size,” you exhaled lovingly, reaching a hand back so that you could slip your fingers into his damp hair, leaning your head back as well so that yours was near his.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he whispered gruffly into your ear, his hands running down your lower abdomen and feeling his heavy cock protruding through your skin. “I bet you’d want me to fuck you day in and day out until you break for me.”

Tears formed in your eyes due to the immense stimulation, unable to see Wooyoung clearly anymore from how blurry your vision was becoming. “You can break me as many times as you want, as long as I’m yours,” you replied in a shaky voice, turning your head to face San.

San began to drool from your words, answering confidently, “You were mine the moment I first saw you, darling. Now…let me have a little bite, okay?” He suddenly ripped off your collar and tossed the remains onto the floor, baring his sharpened teeth. He plunged them into your neck without a second of hesitation, biting down and drawing out your coursing blood.

“Drink up…” you moaned weakly, blinking your tears away and gripping the ends of his hair, your lower half pulsing so intensely that you knew you were going to reach your mind-melting high again.

San noisily slurped the hot liquid up into his mouth, moaning and breathing heavily against your skin, his cock throbbing inside you. “Mmmn…’M….going to…cum…”

“Pleasepleaseplease…fill me up…” you chanted, your heart racing inside your chest, not even bothered how San gulped down your precious life source.

The demon suddenly pulled his mouth away and brought you all the way down on his length again, cementing you in place. “Stand up, pretty boy! Now!”

Wooyoung got up onto his feet so quickly he felt dizzy, about to sob from how insanely good it felt when San’s tail whipped down and sliced the wire off of his cock, finally allowing him to cum. “Oh my fucking god, yes!” he shouted out in ecstasy, his load shooting out all over your chest and lower abdomen.

“Here it comes, darling!” Almost simultaneously, San groaned incredibly loud, tossing his head back onto the couch and pumping you full of his seed for the second time, leading you to your own pinnacle of pure bliss, your mind and body feeling almost completely numbed out.

You couldn’t really acknowledge it when San slipped out from underneath you and stood up, your exhausted body simply falling down onto the couch so that you could get some rest. Wooyoung joined you as well, knocking out almost as soon as he landed next to you.

His own brain and body tingling pleasantly around the edges, San reached down to pet both of your heads, sighing softly. “Merry Christmas, my lovely playthings. Take care, until we meet again.”

He walked over to the tree so that he could take one of the bulbs as a souvenir, looking at his satisfied, flushed reflection inside it. “Merry Christmas to me…” And with that, he vanished into thin air.

When noontime rolled around the next day, the both of you slowly sat up and rested against the couch, looking at each other, studying the various marks, chipped candle wax, and dried remnants of cum that littered your aching bodies.

You cleared your sore throat, leaning into Wooyoung and sighing. “So…he was kind of sweet this time around…Is that crazy to say?”

“Not crazy, no.” Wooyoung wrapped his arms securely around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I mean, I got bullied towards the end there, but honestly, I was really into it.”

You let out a soft chuckle, melting into Wooyoung’s embrace. “I could tell.”

“But, honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever felt that good before. I almost lost my mind.”

“Me too,” you nodded, pulling away and leaning back against the couch again, your boyfriend’s arm slipping around your shoulders and hanging off of it. “I’d say it was a night well spent.”

“Agreed.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, simply holding each other and admiring the snow that was falling gently outside the frosted windows of your living room. You sighed to yourself, content with how you were filled up with more than just Christmas spirit, idly running your fingers along the deep bite marks on your neck.

Noticing the Santa hat that was sitting near the top of the couch, Wooyoung grabbed it and put it on your head, giving you a smile. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

You kissed his cheek, a wide smile forming on your face. “More like Merry Dickmas. Get it? Cuz San’s got a huge c–”

“No, I get it,” Wooyoung cut you off, giving you a blank stare, before erupting in a fit of giggles that you joined in on as well, the both of you hugging and falling back down onto the couch to get some more rest. Once you both quieted down, Wooyoung informed, “It’s my turn to get fucked next time though.”

You turned your head to look at him, gently running your fingers along his chest. “Sure, but he might not want to, since I’m his favorite, after all.”

Wooyoung tsked, hugging you closer to him and nuzzling your cheek. “Are you the main character all of a sudden, or what?”

You nuzzled him back, basking in his comforting warmth and giving him a gentle kiss. “Duh.”

➽───────────────❥

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

Text

As the World Turns 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, imbalanced power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: Your new job takes you to new places with lots of new people.

Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, Lloyd Hansen

Note: I know I shouldn't have done this.

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

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

When you accepted your new position, you didn’t expect that two days later you would be on your very first business trip. Ever. Like at all!

It’s exciting. It’s not only your first trip overseas for work but your first trip across any border. You’re as happy to get use out of your passport as you are to have the new experiences. You don’t know, however, how much you’ll be able to enjoy any of it. It’s still work after all.

You stand at the luggage belt as your phone vibrates. It’s your boss, Mr. Fowler, once more asking you where you are. The car’s already there. It’s not your fault the elite class flyers got off first and you’re stuck searching for your bags among the sea of coach passengers.

‘Will be there shortly, sir. Just coming through customs.’

It’s a small lie but you don’t think he’ll be impressed to hear you’re struggling to find your bag. It’s not very big but it should be easy to find. A round plastic suitcase in a shade of sunflower you can’t miss. You think it’d be obvious amid the black and black suitcases milling along on the conveyor belt.

You see the plastic slats part and your bag shines bright, like a beacon calling to you. You race forward and grab onto the handle. You accidentally press the button with your thumb so the handle extends and you’re dragged along awkwardly as you struggle to lift it.

Another passenger approaches to remove his heavy black bag but doesn’t walk away before helping you. You thank him with a smile. He’s older, maybe your grandpa’s age, and he assures you it’s no problem. He walks off and you plant the wheels of your bag straight, swerving around as you follow the signs.

You bring your phone up again and read Mr. Fowler’s next impatient text.

‘Take the cab fare off your per diem.’

Right. You’re not surprised. From what you know of your boss so far, he’s a stickler. He knows what he wants and he doesn’t settle for less. While he can be charming, even accommodating, he can also be terrifyingly stern. One moment he has that smile that makes his eyes twinkle and the next, his jaw is set and danger darkens his features. The very memory of that expression makes you shiver.

You suppose it’s your own fault. You should’ve considered the job description a bit closer. An executive assistant does a lot more than just the typical secretary. The pay itself was proof enough. Can you really complain? The perks include free trips!

You try to stay as positive as you can, ignoring your mother’s voice as it sneaks into the back of your head. She always has something negative to say. She could win the lottery and complain about the trouble of claiming her winnings.

You make your way through the terminal and into the atrium, passing by new arrivals and waiting departures. You check your smart watch, you’ll get in your steps for sure, and hurry as the minutes tick by. You follow the flow outside and find a spot along the pick up area, waving down a taxi as your phone buzzes again.

‘Don’t show up without scotch’.

The message is terse. You can only assume the flight was less than accommodating. You spent your time in coach looking out at the clouds or catching up on the adventures in Westeros. Terribly depressing books but it only makes reality a little less so.

You get into a taxi and ask the driver to take you to a liquor store. He doesn’t seem to understand you. Oh, boy. You pull up Google translate on your phone and speak into it, setting it to translate into the native language. You let the speaker play the text to voice. The driver nods and starts the meter.

Okay, not bad. You’re figuring this out. If anything, Mr. Fowler has to give you points for effort, right?

You ask the taxi to wait as you run in and find yourself faced with shelves of bottles and cans. This is the hard part, you’re not much of a drinker. With the help of Google, you ask the clerk for a bottle of scotch and pay with the company card. You’re right back out to the taxi.

Everything is so fast, you feel like you’re still catching up. You’re doing things. Every minute matters. You feel important, probably for the first time in your life. No more sitting behind a desk yawning, you’re tired for good reason.

You give the hotel name next and let yourself relax. Just for a little. Your eyes drift to the traffic outside the taxi, the voices all around, the dimming of the sky as the city sets to evening. It’s beautiful and new and wonderful.

The driver lets you off in front of the hotel. You’re greeted by a valet who offers to take your bag. You try to refuse but he insists, so you let him and follow him inside. As you enter, another man approaches.

You’re confused at first. He’s tall, blonde, and dressed as if he’s a businessman visiting on his own sojourn. You look around, thinking he might be headed for someone behind you. No, it’s only you. You turn back and find his blue eyes centered on you as he stops before you.

“Miss, welcome,” he lilts in his refined accent, “may I have your name so we may get you checked in?”

“Oh, yes, thanks, uh, sir. Actually, first, my, er… my boss is here. I think. He must’ve shown up twenty minutes ago. Erm, Mr. Fowler. I have, a oh,” you look down at the bottle in your hands, “I have this for him.”

“Wonderful,” he eyes the bottle, “Izak,” he addresses the valet, “Fowler.”

He takes the bottle from you without resistance. There’s something about his confidence that has you frozen. He hands it to the valet, Izak, and sends him off. You smile and give a nervous chuckle.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you rub the back of your neck.

“That is my job. I’m at your service, miss. Jonathan Pine, manager,” he offers his hand.

You shake it, doing your best to keep a firm grip. His fingers are so long that your hand feels tiny in his. He lets you go as you rescind your hand, crossing one arm over your stomach as you cup your other elbow, playing with the button of your blouse.

“Your name, miss?”

“Oh, duh,” you clutch the front of your blouse and eke out your name.

“Great, this way,” he beckons you with him and leads you to a round desk. He steps behind and types as his blue eyes reflect the screen. “I assume you’re here on business. You mentioned your boss is in another accommodation.”

“Yes, uh, my first business trip,” you almost wiggle with delight, “I’ve never even stayed in a hotel, you know?”

“Well, then I hope your stay is exceptional,” he smiles as he clicks around, giving a thoughtful hum, “allow me to make your first a special one,” he intones, “I’ve upgraded you to a suite.”

“A suite? Oh, but–”

“No additional fee. It will remain at the rate of your previous room,” his eyes flick to you.

“Wow, that’s… do I sound that pathetic?”

“Pathetic? Not at all, miss.”

You chew your lip and sway back and forth, crossing both arms across your chest. You don’t know what to say. He’s so nice that it almost feels patronizing. Or you’re just insecure.

“Allow me to show you your suite,” he comes out from behind the desk, holding out a small black folio.

You take it and look inside, two cards and a little insert with tiny text on it. You bring your hands down to fold over your stomach and back up to let him lead you. He struts along with you to the elevator and hits the button. He gestures you in first and follows.

“You haven’t traveled before?” He asks.

“Not really. We used to go camping but not far from home. Then we didn’t go anywhere. I’ve been working since, er, college, so… this is my first chance.”

“Well, the world is vast and not all are so lucky as to venture beyond their front door. It’s truly a privilege,” he says. The doors ding and parts, again, he waits for you to go ahead of him.

You step out and check the folio. You read the number and match it to a door at the far end of the hall. He’s right behind you as you get to the suite.

“Shall I show you around?” He asks as you stop on either side of the doorframe.

“Erm, sure, why not?” You shrug.

“Might I?” He points to your hands and you give him the folio.

He takes out a card and holds it up, “these can be unfortunately finicky. You must make sure you hold it so,” he shows you how to position it and slides it through the slot beside the handle. The red light turns green and the door unlocks. “Please,” he opens the door and nods you inside.

You enter as he follows. The door slowly closes as he lets it go and he slips the card back into the folio. He puts it on the corner table beside the door and taps it with his fingertips.

“You’ll find the wireless information in there along with the room service details and our continental breakfast times,” he explains, “if you’ve any questions, you may call the front desk.”

“Thank you,” you smile.

“Let me briefly go over the rest of your amenities and I’ll leave you in peace,” he avows as he waves you further inside, “a full bath,” he stops at the doorway to his left, “there are jets built in, rather useful after a long flight.”

You give a polite laugh and he presses on. He guides you through the suite; a kitchenette, a mini bar, a sitting space, a bedroom, a balcony, and a key to the private pool. You thank him again.

He goes back to the door, about to leave but pausing at the door, “if you require anything, you may ask for me. Jonathan, remember.”

“Jonathan,” you repeat.

He nods and steps out into the hall, gently closing the door behind him. You feel another buzz in your pocket. Shoot! Mr. Fowler.

‘Scotch is here. Where are you?’

You cringe and hurry out of the room. You should’ve known better. There was just a lot happening at once. You hurry down the hall and stop short of the elevator. You don’t know where his room is.

‘On my way, sir. Where is your room?’

You key in the message, awkwardly lingering as you wait for his response.

‘Not there. In restaurant. Two minutes.’

You push your head back. You really just want to go back to the room and jump into that giant bed. A full queen to yourself. That’s actual heaven. You answer, affirming your obedience and head for the elevator.

You get down to the lobby and once more find yourself lost. You have that problem, not thinking two steps ahead. As you look around, you see the valet, Izak.

“Hi, uh, is there a restaurant around here?” You ask sheepishly.

“Yes, miss, right through there,” he points towards the rear of the lobby to a wide archway crested with a point.

You thank Izak and scurry across the lobby. You put your phone away as you enter the restaurant and a server approaches you. They ask if you want a table for one and you explain that you’re meeting your boss. She points him out and asks you if you’d like a drink. You assume you won’t be staying for dinner so you pass.

As you near his table, Mr. Fowler doesn’t look up. You stop just across from him and wring your hands. You wait for him to say something but he’s focused on the menu.

“Sorry, sir, I was just checking in–”

“Sit,” he demands.

“Right, thanks,” you sit and grip the edge of the table, “it was very busy at the airport and I had to stop on the way for your scotch–”

“But no time to bring it yourself?” He challenges as he sets the menu down, finally looking at you, “I have a colleague meeting me here shortly.” His eyes dip briefly as he eyes your blouse, “hm, you didn’t change?”

“Like I was saying, sir, I didn’t have a chance yet–”

“Undo your top button,” he waves off your excuses as he sits back and grabs the short glass of scotch in front of him.

“Sir?”

“You look like a nun,” he retorts, “just one button, sweetheart.”

You furrow your brow but pop your top button open. It doesn’t show very much but it still feels wrong. You sit back and peer around the restaurant. The din is quiet and the lightning soft and warm.

“Um, so, you want me to stay for dinner?”

“You leave when I dismiss you,” he says curtly.

“Yes, sir, I understand,” you reply.

“Stop fidgeting,” he clucks, “try to sit still.”

“Yes, sir,” your voice shrinks.

He sighs and stares at you, “smile, okay? This is an important dinner.”

“Right,” you force a smile, cheeks trembling.

All the excitement, all your former optimism, slowly slakes away. You get the churning anxiety in your stomach. The same sensation that kept you in bed a few minutes past your alarm. You’re only a few days in, you can do this.

“Fowler,” a voice booms across the restaurant as footfalls approach.

Your boss stands and you scramble to do the same. He shakes the hand of another man as you turn to face his acquaintance. It must be his aforementioned colleague.

“Hansen,” Fowler counters as their handshake becomes a battle, “about time.”

“Pfft, you were always boring. You gotta get out, buddy. Especially around here. I’ll give you a few names. There’s a sweet girl down at the spa–” the man, Hansen coughs, stopping himself midsentence as his eyes fall to you, “oh? And this is?”

“New assistant.” Fowler sits and pushes the tails of his jacket back.

You give your name as Hansen puts his hand out again. Instead of shaking yours, he takes it and kisses it in a very old-fashioned gesture, though something about his demeanour is sleazy.

“Lloyd,” he winks as he clings to your hand, “Mr. Hansen is so boring. Makes me sound like an old man.”

You smile and repeat his name.

“What happened to Bennet?” He turns and claims the third chair. You lower yourself, content to be peripheral to their reunion.

“Gone,” is all Fowler says as his eyes meet yours, “so, what’re you drinking, Hansen?”

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upsidedownpaycheck · 4 months ago

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Doc 101

Shout Out for the 200+ followers!! Here's a New Story (including links to the original owners). I'm not the best of writers but meh, hope everyone enjoys :]

OH! and A very special thanks to ♡ yasmine ♡ who made this all possible for allowing me to use her audio's! Please do check out her YouTube and drop a "Swiss Role from tumblr" msg :) link:

links will be provided throughout the storyline

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx The Start xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Doc 101:

In the early stages of the fourteen hundreds, there was an undiclosed yearing for what seems to be a very odd doctor. She was avoided at all costs and there were reports of hearing metalic tables rumbling loudly at certain times of the early-misty night by late-night folks who happened to pass by. It was never really made clear on what caused these sounds however, people dared not to inspect her activity when she carries out all her strange projects-- until one patient decided to investigate, Patient 101(one-oh-one) AKA "The Private Eye Nearby".

Like any visit to a doctor, a client needs to book their session with a valid reason in order to get checked upon by one. It was a very common occurrence for the night to be chilly, one could see the carbon dioxide exiting the mouth of another as if it were steam coming out of a hot cup o' soup, this was a perfect opportunity that the Doc used to prep a warm welcome to her clients before proceeding into her lair.

Patient 101 describes the doctor as "well defined, pleasant and friendly" he recalls the Doctor to have a very soothing voice. The detective tries to take note of everything along the way to her lair, mainly focusing on her features. She (The Doc) also mentions that he is her first male patient and would love to hear any questions they he has in mind. This was phenomenal to 101 as it provides him the chance to interview her during the checkup. The interrogation consisted of several phases.

Phase 1: The Handle The Doc prepares her files and equipment and lowers the height of the table. Patient 101 is asked to lie on the table while a cozy fire keeps the room well-lit and warm for the both of them. He keeps a small book and quill to document everything

Phase 2: The Interview (101 Opens the conversation:) "You treat your patients so lovely, why all the bad rumors?" The Doc Feels 101's heartbeat

The Doc: "Breath in" "People don't like things they don't understand and my 'lair' doesn't help better my situation" "breath out"

Detective: "What situation?" The Doc takes her hand off 101's chest

The Doc: (Fetches Equipment for the table) "forget I said that" She tries to change the topic and although she looks away from 101… her eyes suddenly becomes teary

Detective: (Takes his Jacket off) "But you have customers here everyday! it is believed that you 'hide' their bodies and conduct strange projects on them?"

The Doc: the silence is loud while some time passes by (she wipes her teary eyes) "Those aren't bodies, they are realistic dummies I made to research something I'm working on"

Detective: "What are you researching?"

The Doc: she maintains her focus and measures 101's pulse with her fingers

"The problem you have at the moment, Cardiac Arrhythmias. The reason for your visit."

Detective: (stares into her eyes) "Well what more do you need to know if you have been doing research on it everyday?"

The Doc: The question caught her off guard and she couldn't help but to Blush in response "Um, well you know I've been working on like I said, uh research, I'd say it's for an emergency solution. It works by using a set charge of electrical energy that will send a great amount of current into a person which will grant the cardiac muscles in their heart enough energy to function again, provided that the moment of contact between the person and the current is true"

The Detective: (The Doc gently pushes her patient at the central chest to lie on the table) "How do you manage to access such levels of that 'set charge' you mentioned?"

The Doc: (Measures lower abdominal pulse) "When I rub a certain material long enough (She smirks), it stores this static energy which converts into this charge after it makes contact with special materials, It's not witchcraft like people think it is"

The Detective: (giggles) "Soo what does this all achieve?"

The Doc: "It saves lives, it stops you from dying, it…"

The Detective: "Brings you back to life from the dead, how is that not witchcraft?"

The Doc: "Your heart, my heart and everyone else's twists, pumps and beats because of this charge energy, when your heart stops then it means that it lacks this energy and needs more of it to continue working"

The Detective: "Interesting…mind if you show me a demonstration? I believe that this is related to my condition after all" (101 places his palm on her chest) The Doc: "I don't know if that's a good idea. I don't want to kill my first patient"

https://www.tumblr.com/mangafascination/746117508199743488?source=share

[Audio link: https://youtu.be/nePPoZhUJds] The Detective: "I thought I was only your first male patient?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX End of Part 1 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

#cardiophilia #dark cardiophilia #female heartbeat #heartbeat #romantic #roleplay #to be continued

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autistichrlady · 7 months ago

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The Cover Letter Toolbox

Or, how to write cover letters while autistic.

One of the autistic traits I have is difficulties with what's called "expressive language" - I don't think in words, and putting my thoughts into words takes a lot of time and effort. For me, going straight from a blank page to a full sentence that makes sense is difficult, and making that sentence sound professional is even harder. So I came up with a way to avoid starting from a blank page. This is what I do instead.

When I've read a job posting and decided I want to apply, I start by making a list of qualifications and things from the job posting that I have or can do, just a list of words or short phrases like

Customer service experience Scheduling Microsoft Office

Then I go under each of those list items and make it into a full sentence.

Customer service experience: I have five years of experience in customer service.

Once I have the most basic version of that sentence, I think about details that I can add to it. The point of a cover letter is two things-

to summarize the things from your resume that are relevant to this job, so the person doing the hiring doesn't have to read the whole thing and connect the dots themselves.

to add details and explain things that might not be in your resume.

So some details that I want to add here are that I didn't just talk to customers myself for five years, for part of that time I was a manager responsible for training other people to give good customer service. And I was good at that- we always got good results on our customer surveys, and we also always hit our goals for stuff like signing people up for the loyalty program. So now I've got a second sentence:

As the [job title] with [company], I trained our entire team on how to best serve our customers and helped ensure that my location had the best results in the region for customer loyalty.

Another thing from the job posting that I want to address with this bit is that the job I'm applying for involves helping people over the phone a lot. So I want them to know that even though my experience is in a different environment (retail instead of an office front desk) I did still have to answer phone calls and help people over the phone. This is the type of detail that's not in my resume and that someone wouldn't necessarily guess, but I really did answer a lot of phone calls working in retail.

I also added a little bit of Flavor, so it's not just assisting customers, it's "welcoming, respectful assistance". Yes, I did try like five different words there before picking these ones. Usually I look back to the job posting and pick something that relates to what they've said they want. But I find it a lot easier to figure out details like this after I have the basic structure.

This is what I ended up with for my Bit About Customer Service:

I have five years of experience in customer service, providing welcoming, respectful assistance to customers over the phone and in person. As the [job title] with [company], I trained our entire team on how to best serve our customers and helped ensure that my location had the best results in the region for customer loyalty.

If I really wanted to add a lot of detail, I'd put numbers in here- how big "our entire team" was, what the "best results" were and how we were measuring it. But the position I'm applying for is with a small organization, and probably doesn't involve measuring sales in the same way, so I decided not to add that. If I was applying for another retail job, I'd include those things.

I repeat this same process with each of the qualifications from my list, copy-paste each of those bits in order of how important they are, and then I need an opening and a closing. For the opening, I start by stating the obvious.

Dear hiring manager, I am applying for/interested in/etc. [this position]

and then I apply my school-essay-writing techniques and do a one-sentence preview of the qualifications I just got done writing about.

I am confident I have the customer service skills, computer expertise and organized mindset to excel in this position.

For the closing, this job posting specifically mentioned putting your contact information in your cover letter, so I did that, and then I like to thank them for looking at my application because that's a nice polite note to end on.

I can be reached at [contact info]. Thank you for taking the time to consider my application, and I look forward to hearing from you. [signature]

Extra Bonus Brownie Points:

Go to their company website and add something that shows you have looked at their company website. Like yes, the main reason you're applying for this job is it's available and you need money, but besides that, there's gotta be something at least a little interesting about this company that might be cool if you get to work for them. In this case they had a whole big section about charities they donate to and how they get involved in their local community, so I added this right before my closing:

[this company's] contributions to charities such as [things from their website] are truly admirable. I've grown to love [this city] since moving here, and I would be honored to be part of an organization that does so much to contribute to the community.

Now wait before you go here's the important part:

I don't delete any of this stuff.

I copy/paste out the finished bits into a new document to send to the recruiter, but I keep that list of qualifications with sentences under each one.

Now I have a document with a list of qualifications I have and nice professional-sounding descriptions of those qualifications, and for the next cover letter I write, I can reuse them if they're relevant, so I don't have to redo all this work of making words make sense. If I decide to change them a little bit for the next job, I'll keep the new version next to the old one under the same heading. I also keep my openings and closings.

I used to have a big file like this but I apparently didn't back it up before my old computer died, so I'm having to re-create it, but you guys this saves me so much time I would otherwise spend staring at a blinking cursor. And it's easier than saving the full finished cover letter and trying to pull sentences out of it, because all the Bits are already organized by topic. (And it lowers the risk of accidentally copy-pasting the wrong company's name.)

I <3 my cover letter workbox.

#Autism #Actuallyautistic #Neurodivergent #job search #job applications #cover letter #Writing tips

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transmasczeroone · 1 year ago

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On coming out as trans:

I live in a very middle-class, Christian, conservative area, so I was bracing myself for the worst when I decided to come out publically to my co-workers and customers. (I work in a restaurant/bar that attracts a particular demographic: Imagine middle-aged ladies coming to brunch, older men coming for a pint after work, families bringing their children and dogs, most of them white, wealthy, and cishet. For context, I'm also 5 ft 4, and pre-everything, with a gender neutral name that leans towards the girly side, at least in my country.)

The first co-worker I came out to was a low-level supervisor, a gay cis guy in his 20s. He was a bit confused at first, had to ask a lot of questions to understand exactly what was changing, but ever since then he has been unconditionally supportive. He volunteered to tell the other managers that I'm trans, so I didn't need to go through the stress of that conversation multiple times.

The rest of the managers/supervisors (all cishet) at some point or another said that I can go to them if customers or other staff bother me (which hasn't happened at all), and all get my pronouns right most of the time, and are quick to correct themselves when they don't. They even go out of their way to use affirming language - one of my co-workers realised one day that that were no women on shift at the time, turned to me and said something about it being a boys' club and included me in that category. They celebrate my small wins, and the big ones, everything from "nice haircut!" to "ohmygod you're going on testosterone soon?? I'm so happy for you!!"

One of the managers - a cishet woman in her 50s, and the one I expected to have the worst reaction - asked a lot of questions to better understand me and offered to introduce me to her friend, who is also a trans man. This is a big deal to me, because I don't know any other trans men in my area. According to my co-workers, she's better at getting my pronouns right than almost anyone else.

Another cishet guy I work with is in his 60s had to ask what my he/him badge meant when he first saw it, and now he always makes a point of getting my pronouns right, especially in front of other people who she/her me based on my appearance or who need a reminder.

The male customers I serve on the bar tend to ask what the badge means (although some prefer to stare at it in confusion and not comment at all). My usual response is, "It's to remind people that I'm not a girl, since a lot of people think I am," which omits a huge chunk of the truth, but isn't a lie. I've never had a bad response, though.

When I explain, they often say, "Wow, I never would have guessed you were a man" (ouch, dysphoria) and apologise genuinely and quite profusely for calling me "she" or "sweetheart" or whatever earlier in the interaction. They're eager to assure me that they meant no disrespect. Some even notice the badge and apologise without having to ask what it means. Nobody contradicts me, nobody is sarcastic or thinks I'm joking, and nobody has ever said anything transphobic to me or asked invasive questions. Some get confused and sort of gloss over my explanation, but nobody has been hateful. Sometimes they seem to accept me as a cis guy, other times they're clearly aware that I'm trans, but it doesn't affect their response either way.

The worst thing I've encountered is customers who see the he/him badge, blatantly ignore it, and then misgender me throughout the interaction. Not ideal, of course, but far better than what I was expecting.

This entire experience has reminded me of a time I read in a comment somewhere that transphobes are a very vocal minority, that transphobia feels like it's ramping up recently because transphobes know they're losing the war and are screaming in a desperate attempt to be taken seriously. They're scared that all their fearmongering and hatred is, in fact, getting them nowhere. Maybe there's some truth to that.

As I said before, I live in a conservative, middle-class area, and there are no queer bars, bookshops, etc. for miles and miles, but there are at least 3 churches within a 15 minute walk of my house. And in the 5 months I've been out publically, the worst transphobia I've faced from a co-worker or stranger is just them not using my pronouns until corrected.

I'm not saying don't be careful when you come out. I'm not saying that things always go well. Sometimes they go awfully, and I've had my own bad experiences.

What I am saying is that my faith in cis people has been restored to quite an astonishing degree, that sometimes people can surprise you in wonderful ways, that there are people out there willing to accept and respect us, and sometimes you find them where you least expect them.

#transition #coming out #trans #transgender #transmasc #trans man #trans boy #trans guy #ftm #zero.text #transmasculine

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duckprintspress · 2 months ago

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Draft2Digital, a large book distributor used by many indie authors and small presses (including my small press!) has announced they will not be partnering with LLM/Generative AI companies at this time!

From Kris Austin, CEO of Draft2Digital:

I know a lot of authors are eager to learn if D2D conducting an AI training survey meant that such a service was imminent. At this time, Draft2Digital will not offer AI rights licensing opportunities.

Draft2Digital has always been dedicated to providing opportunities for authors. We also know that each of these opportunities need to be vetted properly. From the beginning, we’ve structured our Terms of Service to only grant the rights we need to distribute your works and nothing more. We cannot, and will not, make choices about your works for you.

The stakes are high enough around Al Licensing that we felt it was imperative to include the community as much as possible in our decisions to offer these options or not.

I sincerely thank you for your honest responses. I personally read thousands of them. Please read the below post for lots of great information on what authors are thinking.

From the blog post:

At Draft2Digital, we believe:

It’s a positive development that AI developers are seeking to pay for licenses

Better protections are needed before D2D or its publishers can entertain such licenses

AI training rights are an exclusive, valuable subsidiary right under the sole control of the author or publisher

The rights-holder deserves full control over decisions related to if, when, and how their books are used or licensed for AI training purposes.

Authors and publishers should refuse AI rights licensing contracts that are opaque, or that provide inadequate protections for author concerns

AI developers must stop training upon books obtained without the rights-holder’s permission; otherwise, they will face continued reputational harm in the eyes of their customers and the creative community

LLMs previously trained upon unlicensed content, and the applications built upon them, should either negotiate retroactive licensing settlements with rights holders, or scrap their LLMs and rebuild them from scratch by training upon licensed content only

They didn't put any information about free responses but I know I said that if they tried to sell our data I would leave the platform. I wonder how many other people said similar? 45% of respondees said that under no circumstances would we be willing to sell AI training rights. That's. A LOT of people, especially considering another 25% only said "maybe."

Anyway. there are some cool charts and good raw data on the page. Only thing I wish was they said how many people completed it - if that number was there, I didn't see it.

#current events #publishing

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ruiniel · 9 months ago

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Remember

Fandom: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no yaiba

Pairing: Kokushibō x fem!Reader

Rating: 🔞

Count: 1.7k

On AO3

Part I - Part II - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX

Tags & Warnings: Multichapter, Darkfic, Angst, Ambiguity, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Reincarnation, Toxic relationship, Codependency, Blood kink, Flashbacks, Kokushibō's wife, her name is Hisami, References to childbirth but nothing graphic, POV Second Person, Tsugikuni Michikatsu POV, Emotional Sex, Mild Smut, is it gratuitous yes and no, Human!Kokushibō, Kokushibō | Tsugikuni Michikatsu-centric, Sengoku Period (1467-1590), if there's anything Upper Moon One fears it's his memories, Making promises he can't keep

Author note

My hands, they slipped this chapter... rating changed, see the tags.

Naginata: a versatile, conventional polearm, mainly favored for its length, which can compensate for the strength and body size advantage of male opponents. It was a weapon-of-choice of the onna-musha or female warriors in pre-modern Japan.

Ashigaru: in a samurai household their primary role was that of protectors and warriors but were also responsible for various tasks around the estate.

Koshimoto: the personal attendants to the samurai. Among others, their tasks included dressing the samurai in their elaborate armor.

III.

Worry is a deeply human trait. You know this, and you know the world will never give without taking just enough to keep one fighting on. You’ve tried mastering your breaths as you’d been taught, but your grasp is clammy on the naginata which never tasted spilled blood.

When he left, you wished to go, too, but buried your desires at the feet of duty for the good of your clans, your futures and the precious, rare spark that flourished from nothing in such short a time between you.

Michikatsu has always been talented in the way of the sword, dedicated and perseverent. All traits required of him, ingrained in you too. You’d watch him train when you were too small to join, you toiled to reach a skill level enabling you to protect your own if things took a turn for the worst in the land.

He promised he’d be careful. He promised. You cross the engawa countless times, watching the night for a sign.

“Hisami-sama, the tea is ready.”

You thank the girl, who lingers, hesitates to speak further, but you can feel her unrest. She retreats, and you are unable to tear your eyes away from the outside.

The neighing of horses bursts upon the beaten path like omens from a distance, louder and louder. Sweat beads on your forehead. You ought to remove yourself and go inside, but invisible weights latch around your ankles. Your shoulders stiffen, and the remaining ashigaru become alert until you see a familiar standard, known faces, and finally him, dismounting fluidly as the household are swift to approach their lord and returning retainers.

Your weapon set aside, you exhale a deep breath then draw another.

His gaze locks on you as you rush to reach him but before you can throw yourself at him, custom and all be damned, his hands are on your shoulders, holding you firmly at arm’s length.

In the torchlight, you see the blood on his face is dry, and the same stains match those on his chest, his armored sleeves, and his shin guards. His violet stare is distant, its dark depths empty. This was his second military incursion as a kogashira leading his squad in battle.

You greet him as befits custom; Michikatsu is silent. His eyes never leave your face, and now something new lurks behind them, something you’d not seen there before. Slowly, he releases you, turning and—curious—dismissing the koshimoto.

What is this? You don’t understand.

Michikatsu then looks your way with the kind of expression that bears meaning: a beckoning. Worried, compelled, you let the steward handle the rest and follow his heavy tread inside.

Once there, he removes one gauntlet, then the other; silent, so silent. You near, aiding with the removal of the armor piece after piece. So many questions, that you nearly bite your tongue to force them down. His gaze follows your movements, again always returning to your face.

“Will there be anything else, Michikatsu-dono?”

With just the two of you together, here, you wonder at your choice of address: the only way you allow yourself to express the hurt, the rejection of that one gesture outside after so many weeks of uncertainty. He must see it, and still, nothing.

His eyes meet yours, as though surprised you’re there at all. “No, Hisami. Thank you.”

He says nothing else. He rises, turns away, and leaves the room.

The space by your side is cold and empty, all the emptier the more you stare, the more your mind drowns in rumination. A demon of silence, has forced its way into a corner of your chamber, lurking and layering doubts like nightshade over your spirit.

The slow slide of the fusuma panel interrupts this torturous reverie.

Michikatsu nears, kneels by the futon even as you rise to sit, facing him. The glow of the lamp plays over his features and his unbound hair, still wet from a bath, shining like ink. He wears nothing but a carelessly fastened yukata, and droplets of water shine golden as they drip down his pale chest. You see a bruise, large and dark, beneath his collarbone. There must be others.

You stare, unsure what to say. Michikatsu has always had a gentle, withdrawn nature, but he’s never acted quite like this before. If someone didn’t know him better, one would think he is his usual self, albeit spent mentally and physically after weeks of immense strain that only warfare can cause. His breaths are labored, though, as if he’d crossed a great distance on foot and not merely the path to your bedroom. The fact that he even is here should gladden you, after his earlier manner, but… be that as it may, you will try again.

“I missed y—”

Your words are severed. He knows how to be gentle; but like deep waters with roiling currents that drag one to the depths, he also harbors an unpredictable side: and now his hand is heavy on your thigh, the other gripping the nape of your neck, bringing your face closer none too gently. His lips are hot, crushing against yours; it’s close to pain, and the weakness from the time spent apart only allows you to feebly press your palms against his chest.

His breathing is still harsh against your mouth, and with this his earlier peculiarities seem so insignificant. If this time has been difficult for you, a thread of understanding dawns as to what it must have been like for him. You slowly sway together back and forth as you kiss, your fingers gliding through his sable hair and him releasing you seems out of the question, the hand on your thigh snaking up and around your waist, forcing your body flush against his. He ends the kiss, sucking on your lower lip with an abandon that will surely leave a mark, and goes still; panting, silent, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

“Michikatsu, please, say something…”

He bares your shoulder, the wet warmth of his mouth gliding over your skin, along your neck and there he lingers, kissing and licking a spot he learned has you shivering—and it does, sparks of pleasure rushing waywardly through you, dispersing all and any fears or troubles; a soft sigh leaves him when your fingers tighten in his hair.

If he chooses to speak this way rather than using words, you mind it less and less, lending yourself to the careful way he cups your head, the tickle of his wet strands on your skin as he descends with you in his arms. His weight presses you into the futon and hungrily he still nips at your neck, your chin, licking a warm stripe between your breasts before staring at the hardened tips peaked through your yukata. He looks… adorable, you think, like one might when coveting a ripe fruit. He meets your eyes as his roughened hand carefully undoes your garment, palming one breast; the softness of his mouth closing around one hardened tip leaves you dizzy with need.

With urgency you slide his garment down his shoulders. He moves as to make it easier, his naked hips shifting against yours, left, right, left, right… languid and slow.

A hand runs through your hair; your eyes open, finding his. “Forgive me for earlier,” he whispers, watching you in that manner again, the way he did earlier at his arrival, the way no one ever did. His hand reaches between your bodies, slow and with intent, exploring; his lashes lower when he finds you. His finger traces slow, soft circles, covered in your slick. You know he loves this, takes pleasure in seeing all the ways he affects you. “I was… for one, I did not want to soil your clothes,” he jests.

Your back arches off the futon as he plays, your sight lost in the black centers of his eyes, rimmed with faint ribbons of amethyst; he is hard already, and your sense is reduced to the memory of how he feels when he pins you down, takes you and takes you and takes you. You relish in the thrum of his voice, low and sincere, your hands running up and down his tense back—the work of art that is his body honed by training, by all the ways he’s always pushed himself until his hands bled on his sword.

“It is difficult, out there, and I was relieved…” Michikatsu smiles drunkenly at the slow sway of your own hips against his, retrieving his hand and rising enough to cage you beneath him. “... to… to finally be home.” Without warning he rises, flips you over on your abdomen and lines his body against yours, his knee nudging your legs apart even as he keeps speaking in your ear. “... with you.”

You’re long past reason, lashes fluttering and core tightening as he finds you, and a coil of primal delight unfurls in your body from the warmth of his arousal slicking inside—so easily, such a perfect fit. He pauses halfway, met with your desperate little mewl of protest.

“I know… I know…” He kisses your cheek, licks your ear. “Hisami, listen to me,” he murmurs, sucking on your earlobe; your assent comes in the form of a sigh, which seems to be enough for him. “I am a flawed man but I will…” he rises, propping his fists against the futon on either side of your shoulders. “I will do my utmost to leave as seldom as I can…” His hips press against you, pushing deep; you turn your face into the quilt, stifling your moan. “I will protect what we have for as long as I live…” His voice is hoarser, words hitched with the effort to control the tremble of pleasure in his own body.

He moves not at all, but you’re already unraveling and undone at the mere thought of him doing so. He places shallow kisses to the nape of your neck, the crown of your head as his back arches, and the first thrust relieves you of all thought, all but him.

“I promise,” he repeats on the second thrust, and the third, building a rhythm that has you tilting your head up, hands blindly groping at his forearms until he eases down against you. He moves deeper, slower, reaching to lace your fingers with his, his scent and lips and voice weaving with that ethereal thread now drawn impossibly tight between you.

Part IV

#kokushibo x reader #ruiniel:fanfiction #kny x reader #kokushibo #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader

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legendsgalore · 4 months ago

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Stupid stuff ppl say to me at my work, just a personal rant

All of these are separate incidents, and sometimes i cant believe people are real, they can be this stupid, and they are not only living their lives but thriving despite being this pathetically stupid. For context, I work as a barista at a specialty chocolate shop, in a higher end historical area, it's a small business, and the shop is like 400 sq foot MAX. The customer base is mainly white, old, and rich people.

--- Customer: *walks into the shop, goes straight to the counter* So do you sell dark chocolate? --- Customer: *holds up a chocolate bar* So is this hot chocolate? --- Me: So this is a product called "Drinking Chocolate" Customer: So what do you do with it? --- Customer: I can't believe you guys don't sell chocolate dog biscuits --- Include every customer who has the "billion dollar idea" for the shop --- We have a drink specials board, where the drink is in colored text and right below it is the description of the drink in white, with the different drinks separated by a dotted white line. People will ask me what the drink is.....like the description is right BELOW it. --- Frequently, people walk into the shop, and I call out "welcome in!" To them. I can project my voice well, and i am a very cutesy-happy customer-friendly person at work. I get ignored like 50% of the time, and I have had people outright grunt at me. --- Person: *brings their dog into the shop* Me: Oh sorry, we don't allow dogs into the shop unless they are service animals Person: Oh...uhhh this is definitely a service animal Me: >:( (legally in my state I can't question that, unless the animal is being an outright nuisance/danger) --- We are also a coffee shop, and ppl have tried to buy milk from our fridges?? Like the literal gallons of it???? --- I am a tiny gal, height and size, and this is a frequent enough question that my coworkers and I joke about it: "So how do you stay so skinny working here?" "So how much chocolate do you really eat working here?" Or they say shit like this: "I would weight a thousand pounds if I worked here!" ew. just ew. --- Another thing is OVER HALF of the customers walk in and just go "MMMMMMM WOW IT SMELLS SO GOOD IN HERE!!!" Like, obnoxiously loudly, usually interrupting me welcoming them in. It's a valid observation, but it's annoying in the unoriginality, like everyone is in fact following the same script here. Plus everyone wants the same response from me, an enthusiastic nod and a "yeah!" I lost the will to do that a couple months ago. But, again, valid observation. --- Anyone who comes in and is loudly declaring how milk/dark chocolate is better in the tone where they actually believe the objectiveness of their statements and don't realize that it's a subjective opinion. Like I put out free samples everyday, and ppl will come up and outright go "Ew!" If it's their disliked darkness of chocolate. I've had customers try samples, dislike it, and then tell other customers that we make bad chocolate. Like sorry you didn't like the chocolate, but it was free and why are you trying to hurt our small business? --- Finally, everyone who walks in and goes "oH tHiS pLaCe Is So DaNgErOuS i ShOuLdn'T -" Then gtfu. If you don't want the perceived guilt of eating chocolate, then don't walk into the chocolate shop. No we don't have sugar free, calorie free, guilt free, chocolates. I am sick of all the jokes about how people shouldn't be here, shouldn't eat this, how they shouldn't buy more, how they're already buying too much (two bars of chocolate), how this is so bad, like omfg? Are you your mother? Stop with this diet-culture talk. It's disgusting. ---

However, despite the customers being stupid, it adds a lot of interest to my day, and I love my job. My boss is an absolutely amazing person, I would do literally anything for her, and I love all my coworkers. I am so lucky to have this job, and I respect the shop a ton. Despite my hope for humanity somehow going into the negatives over these months, I will give my 100% each day at work.

#personal rant

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traumadumpwriter · 1 year ago

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Heavy trigger warning! This story includes heavy themes of ab*se, r*pe, self h*rm, mental illness and violence.

You can check out the other chapters by going on the Freedom tag on my page!

All likes and comments are massively appreciated

Freedom: A John Shelby mini fic

Chapter Six: 5310 words

A week passed and there had yet to be another date. In fact, the pair had hardly seen each other.

John and Tommy had been in Manchester for a few nights, just coming back that morning and much to Alice's dismay; John said nothing when he finally walked into the kitchen. Everyone was sat eating breakfast, watching the two blood stained men pace across the room. John didn't even give Alice a look of acknowledgment as she smiled up at him.

Arthur and Polly shot each other a seemingly knowing look. He stood up and immediately paced into the office, slamming the door behind him as he did.

"What's going on? Is John okay?" Alice asked Polly with concern.

The older woman could see the budding love and affection Alice had for her nephew, just from looking into her eyes when she said his name. It partially subsided any worries she might've had about the girl breaking his heart in the destructive manner she'd once been known for.

"I'm sure he'll be fine." She nodded with a drag from her cigarette, although she herself was also slightly concerned. It was business that she'd told them not to do and they did it anyway. If something terrible had happened then that was on their conscious and not hers - so she decided not to check immediately, at least not in front of Alice.

The younger woman was fighting every urge inside her body; to shout at Polly, to curse at her, to demand the truth, to run into the office and see for herself. A few years ago it would've been her instant response with no after thought. But alas, things had changed, so she sat in silence and finished her breakfast before promptly leaving to head to The Garrison.

It was a couple hours until opening but there was some cleaning and stock taking that needed doing. And besides, she liked being there. The silent mornings in that pub, sun shining through the tinted windows and all doors locked, had become a therapeutic time for Alice - the only time she was ever really alone.

Counting the till was tedious though this particular morning, her mind racing with angry thoughts of Polly and worried ones for John. His expression was something she'd never seen on him before and she could only assume the worst, thinking perhaps he'd brutally killed someone or seen something awful.

"Or maybe he's found another lady while he was away." The insecure thoughts began to seep in. "Maybe they're gonna kick you out because of it and that's why they all looked at each other funny."

She couldn't help but feel extremely betrayed at the imaginary notion, thinking back to the private things she'd told him and now starting to question if he'd have told anyone the things she said. This was the first time she'd ever doubted his care was true since that night; insecurity and paranoia suddenly seeping in by the gallon. Rationally, she knew that his mood that morning was probably unrelated to her- he did lead a rather tumultuous lifestyle after all. But now that seed had been planted it started to quickly grow, forming into a big, tangly, sharp thorn bush.

It was a few hours of the thorns digging into her brain until she finally gave in and physically reacted, heading to the utensil drawer. There was one particularly sharp knife that she'd desperately wanted to steal, small but with a weighted wooden handle it fit perfectly into her palm when she'd used it to cut lemons once under Harry's watchful eye. She could tell that he would immediately notice if it went missing and definitely know who took it - the answer was stupidly obvious.

The clock struck eleven and she knew that she'd have to unlock the doors in an hour and deal with customers or even worse; if she weren't quick Arthur or Harry could arrive at any time and catch her in the act. A split second decision was made and she found herself in the lavatory, the knife in her hand and blood dripping down the sides of her thighs into the toilet bowl below.

It was deeply satisfying for her to see and feel. Having not given in to her urges for the last few nights, it almost felt like she had a surplus of blood and perhaps more was coming out than usual. Or maybe it was because of how sharp the knife was. She couldn't tell.

Either way, the woman sat in silence for a minute as she watched the red liquid flow, the thorns finally shrivelling and the bad thoughts stopping.

However, her moment of comfort was cut short as she heard the back door being unlocked and a moment later Harry's voice.

"Alice? You in?" He spoke loudly to be heard in all rooms.

"Fucking typical." She muttered to herself before starting to dab at the wound.

It then occurred to her that she didn't have a rag or bandage to wrap around her leg, and nothing to stop the bleeding other than thin strips of toilet paper. There was a first aid box under the bar, but then she would have to explain why she needed it to Harry.

"Fuck!" She hissed, looking down at the blood that was still pouring out.

"Alice?" Harry called again through the building and she knew she couldn't keep ignoring him.

"Yeah, I'm just in the ladies!" She shouted, scraping her brain for an idea until like an arrow one shot into her head.

"Do you think you could bring the first aid box in here?"

He brought it to the door although suspicious and questioned "Why do you need it?" to which she immediately responded "I-I'm on the rag! It's just started and it's super heavy and I didn't bring anything-"

"Alright, alright." He cut her off "Box is outside, save me the detail next time."

Alice could've squealed in excitement, so pleased that her plan had worked. She awkwardly bent around the door to retrieve the box before sitting back down in the toilet and wrapping the cut.

—————

She had no more wins that day; every minute dragging and every customer being ten times worse than usual. There had been two separate incidents of wildly inappropriate sexual harassment, both being removed from the premises but still leaving Alice feeling vulnerable.

The first one, a man had had the nerve to grope Alice's arse as she was bringing out drinks. She instantly put the drinks down and slapped him across his bloated face before getting him kicked out. The second one had been another drunk man - this one considerably more so. He decided to get his penis out and shake it at Alice whilst his friends stood and laughed at him, instantly getting the whole group kicked out.

This time, she didn't immediately react. Staring in shock at the man's genitals, her mind shot into all of it's darkest corners before settling in one - Jones.

So now she stood, wiping down the bar as the end of the day neared closer. Harry had picked up on her vibe shift since that incident and slightly worried, offered for her to go home. But she declined, desperate to earn every single penny she could and get out of Small Heath on her own accord.

All of a sudden, John, Tommy and Arthur stepped into the pub, not a word leaving their mouths as they headed straight into their booth. Alice hadn't even thought about John in hours, distracted by her traumatic memories and the rage she felt for them. He sent her a quick nod, his face just as void of emotion as it was that morning, instantly adding those worries back into the boiling pot.

"At least he acknowledged my existence this time." She thought bitterly to herself, her scrubbing getting more intense by the minute.

Meanwhile in the cubby, the three men were still trying to perfect a plan to deal with some business that had gone wrong. John and Tommy had travelled to meet a business partner but were ambushed and barely made it out, leaving John rather shook up as he truly thought he was going to see his brother die that morning. It also brought some of his own mortality into perspective and had his mind focused on ideas for the near future rather than waiting any longer.

There was a sense of dread hanging over the men's heads until they started drinking, Harry handing them pints through the partition door whilst Alice cleaned until it got late and he left.

By now the men were ordering whiskey and it was Alice handing them through the partition. John watched her soft hands pass the glasses to Arthur's rough hands and felt slight unease, wishing that she were sat in the booth beside him rather than on the other side of the wall serving him.

Alice wasn't thinking much of that though, her mind preoccupied and her face remaining blank. She hadn't even bothered trying to be polite to David when he swaggered in just a few minutes after the Blinders, already pissed.

"You look fucking incredible today may I say Miss Shepherd." He grinned, slamming some change on the counter "Get me a rum n coke!"

She rolled her eyes, making the drink, handing it to him and taking his money in silence.

"What's got your knickers in a twist? On the rag or something?" He chortled, earning a harsh glare but still she kept silent.

There was another group of men in the pub, loudly chatting from their sprawled positions across the tables. None of them seemed to notice the exchange, even as David grew annoyed by her silence.

"Alright then slag, I'll fuck off." He scoffed, standing up and skulking towards the corner booth.

She didn't care enough to acknowledge that either, her eyes remaining transfixed on the bar in a trance like state as she scrubbed the same spot again and again.

About half an hour later, the large group of men left. Alice nearly didn't even notice their departure; the dark thoughts entirely ravenous at this point, eating at her brain. She'd even opened a tab for herself, pouring shots of vodka and whiskey to have in between every task. It was no help for thoughts, but it made her feel slightly more in control somehow.

Her brain was in a particularly nasty spiral, the woman focused blankly on the till, until she suddenly heard the sound of something breaking, causing her head to shoot up in shock.

David was the only one left in the pub besides the Shelby's in their private booth and the noise certainly hadn't come from them.

"I dropped my glass, sorry." The man slurred, earning another eye roll from Alice as he stared at her from across the room.

With a huff, she picked up the dustpan and brush from under the bar and headed towards him, sharply glaring. He had a smug smirk on his face that only pissed her off more, mentally mocking him. She hesitantly bent down and started to collect the pieces of glass, feeling his eyes jabbing at her body her like daggers.

"Stupid fucking prick I ought to-" her thought was cut off by his hand suddenly grabbing the back of her head and pulling it towards his crotch. His other hand was preoccupied with getting his dick out of his trousers.

The panic that instantly shot through her once she realised what he was attempting to do gave her an intense rush of adrenaline and rage - something she hadn't felt in a while.

"Get the fuck off me!" She shouted, shoving him away although he soon stood back up as she looked around for something to attack him with.

This noise instantly got the attention of the Shelby brother's, who all shot up from their seats and darted out of the booth. Already though, Alice had picked up a bottle and swung it at the man's head, causing him to stumble back again for a moment.

"I should fucking kill you!" She let out a guttural scream, picking up a wooden chair and going to throw it at him before a pair of arms suddenly enveloped around her and pulled her away, only sending her into more of a panic.

Desperately, she started to kick and punch at whoever was holding her, screaming as her adrenaline increased. It was only when she heard John's gentle coo that she realised who's arms were holding her back, slowing her attack slightly.

"Alice calm down. What's happened?" He said softly but still she didn't calm down, bubbling with rage as she stared at the man in front of her.

"She's fucking mental is what happened." David slurred, drawing the attention and loosening John's grip for just a second. Instantly the brothers noticed his undone flies and cockhead poking out of the gap, quickly turning their confusion to anger.

But before they could react, Alice took that second of distraction and broke from John's grip, grabbing one of the bigger glass shards from the ground and lunging at David like a hungry tiger. Everything moved in slow motion for John. The glass cut David's face deeply and in a split second he stupidly reacted by striking her with such force that it sent the woman to the ground.

She was ready to get up and continue attacking, but John and Arthur had leapt on the man and Tommy was holding her back, the guilt he felt about Jamie's promise weighing heavily in that moment. Her breathing was erratic, making deep panting sounds and she desperately tried to escape his grip - having no luck, no matter how hard her arms punched and and legs kicked.

"You're safe Alice. You're safe. You're fine." He kept repeating, trying to comfort her but she could only hear Jones' voice.

"Get the fuck off me! I'm not your fucking wife!" She screamed so fearfully and loudly, that it caused John to turn from the bloody, beaten man on the floor to look at the pair.

It was clear to him what was happening; like what would happen with Danny Wizzbang but not about war - about men. Tommy seemed to pick up on it too, trying to ground her like he did with Danny but his foreign touch feeling invasive and instead triggering her more.

"Don't fucking touch me!" She screamed again, shoving Tommy off her as he loosened his grip.

Arthur was still noisily beating David in the corner, mostly oblivious to the happenings behind him whilst his brothers eyes stayed locked on Alice, who was looking around the room manically as she backed away towards the bar; a mix of distress and rage plastered across her face.

All of the voices in her head were shouting at max volume; violence, fear, trauma, anger. Every bad urge she'd had separately throughout the day was now morphing into one intense need and she quickly rushed behind the bar before one of the brothers could stop her.

Of course they turned and rushed towards the woman, but before they could take a step further Alice pulled out the weighted knife and held it firmly in her hand.

John's mind was already racing, full of murderous rage for the scumbag that he'd just beaten - now it was full of intense concern for the woman in front of him. The mad gleam in her eyes was something he hadn't seen since she was a reckless teenager but now it was even more mad - aided by the deep hurt behind them.

Seeing the shiny, silver blade pressed against her small, scarred wrist instantly made John extremely anxious. The cloud of worry that had been hung over his head all day felt like nothing compared to the fear watching Alice putting herself in harms way.

"Don't fucking do any-" he began to loudly plead but as an instant protest Alice swiftly ran the blade along her left arm, blood immediately gushing out.

He and Tommy both flinched, disturbed by how she didn't react. Neither of them knew exactly what to do, it becoming abundantly clear that if they got any closer she would make another cut.

"Let me cut off his fucking dick." She hissed, holding the knife to her wrist still.

The words went right past John's ears, all he could focus on was her arm and how it needed bandaging up. Blood seemed to gush from it like a waterfall and yet she showed no care, still focused on her rage.

"Put the knife down and give me your fucking arm, Alice." He spoke sternly and loudly but she ignored him, turning to Tommy instead.

"Let me cut his fucking dick off." She hissed again, louder and angrier this time.

Although obviously disturbed by what she wanted to do, he could see that whatever had happened while she was gone had done a true number on her. Maybe letting her mutilate this man would help her somehow - and therefore help to shed some of the guilt he felt?

"Alright, alright. Just put the knife down and bandage your arm. We'll keep him here for you when you're ready." Tommy said slowly, his eyes remaining intensely on hers.

She didn't break eye contact with him, still feeling wound up and animalistic, she panted and gripped the knife tighter. Tommy wasn't someone she particularly trusted - seeing the way he'd manipulate everyone around him and the half kept promise to her dead brother - so she decided against his deal.

"No. I'm going to cut it off now and if any of you come near me I'm going to slit my wrists to the fucking bone. You understand?" She said with gritted teeth, looking around at the three brothers with thinned eyes.

Arthur had stepped away from David by now, the man left bleeding and groaning on the floor. He was instead just as stunned as John and Tommy, knowing she wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Alright." John quickly replied, growing more anxious about her injury by the second. "Just don't bloody hurt yourself again!"

She ignored his plea, keeping the blade pressed tightly against her wrist as she stepped out from the bar.

"Bring him here then." She sent a casual smile to Arthur, who instantly nodded and complied.

It made John feel extremely uneasy and although none of the brothers disagreed with what she was doing, they didn't feel great about it. Soon, David was sat in a chair facing Alice while Arthur held him down. He was covered in bruises and his own blood already and now his shirt had been shoved into his mouth as a gag.

She took a deep breath and pictured it was Jones in that chair, kicking and screaming as he tried to get away from her. Another smile crossed her face and she bent down to be at eye level with him.

"You really thought you could get away with trying to force your vile fucking cock into my fucking mouth?" She shouted that last part, getting close to his face. "Without even asking, how bloody impolite."

His eyes were wide as he stared into hers, regretting every decision he'd made to reach this point.

"Do you really think you deserve to have one now? Because I don't." She scoffed.

David had already pissed himself when he was getting beaten up but he was pissing himself again, screaming louder and trying to resist against Arthur's grip.

Alice on the other hand, was loving every second of it, his fear fuelling her. She slowly started to pull down his boxers, laughing as he tried to kick her off. John couldn't quite believe what he was seeing, it was like every violent outburst she'd had as a kid but a million times worse, yet he couldn't take his eyes away, every movement fascinating him.

In the times he'd spent with Alice recently, she'd been this authentic, strong yet sensitive, angel of a woman. What he saw in front of him now was the true damage of the horrors she'd only partially described yet had been stuck in his mind ever since hearing them; a painful fall back into their reality and just how fucked up it was.

"Of course you think you deserve to keep it. Men like you think you deserve everything." She continued with a venomous hiss, grabbing his cock in one hand while pressing the knife against the base of it with the other. The man was frozen in fear whilst the brothers were frozen in shock.

As soon as she turned the knife so that it's point dug into the skin, the man instantly started to move again; screaming into the gag, his eyes bursting and his legs kicking.

"The thing is..." she slowly started to drag the knife upwards towards the tip "as much as I would love to chop this small, smelly, evil, ugly thing off.." blood started to run heavily from the cut she was making, his screams getting louder by the second. "We all know that you would bleed out in seconds.." the knife had reached just below the tip "And death is far too good for a cunt like you."

John was less shocked than his brothers by her choice, knowing just how sensitive and smart she truly was - although the shock was still there as a big part of him had feared that she'd snapped and this would be the moment to finally cement it. His relief wasn't very substantial compared to the sadness it all made him feel though, and besides - he was far more concerned by her arm than the state of the man she was tormenting,

It became clear that the cut was perhaps deeper than intended as it continued to gush with blood, all down her arm and dripping onto herself, David and the floor. Her skin even started to seem slightly paler and her posture started to sway.

"She's going to fucking bleed out if this goes any slower." John thought, frustrated.

Although before he could get any more impatient, the sound of the knife clattering against the wooden floor suddenly echoed through the thick momentary silence.

"If I ever see you again, I'm going to leave you much more disfigured than just that little cut. You understand? Now leave." She spoke more quietly than before but still through gritted teeth.

David didn't react, making small whimpers into the cloth and his eyes remaining wide.

"I said get out!" She shouted, the sudden change in decibels making the man jump before she scurried out, his hand clasping his genitals and a trail of blood left on the floor.

Everyone stood in stunned silence for a moment except for John, who hastily picked up the knife from the floor before grabbing Alice's arm to look closely at the damage. The cut had started to congeal and dry in spots but was still slowly oozing thick red liquid, making John shoot Tommy a nervous look. His brother instantly unfroze and quickly stepped over to give his own inspection whilst Arthur headed to the bar for the first aid kit.

Like a snap, all of the fight had left Alice now and she stood numbly, ignoring the frantic worry from the men around her. They were talking but she didn't hear any of it, staring over at the bloody mess she'd made, wishing David was Jones and that she'd actually followed through with her words and killed him. Arthur and John had obviously given him a good beating and she'd definitely left a permanent mark on his penis, but that wasn't enough. It didn't make the pain stop.

She wondered if even mutilating the man was worth the tax on her soul. He wasn't Jones, but he was still a pig.

"Why don't I feel any better? Oh well, I've done it now, they're gonna send me to the loony bin. I should've bloody killed him." She thought, slightly amused by herself until John started to violently shake her, getting her attention.

It took a few seconds for her eyes to focus as she looked up at the man, shooting him a confused look.

"What?" She asked, earning a frustrated huff.

"What do you mean what? I've been saying your name for the last bloody minute!" He scoffed, his eyes going from her face and to her arm, which she realised he was wiping with a handkerchief.

He was slow and delicate with it, his hands huge compared to her wrist. She didn't realise how much blood there was until that moment, looking at it staining John's skin as he tried to stop the wound from bleeding.

"Are you feeling faint or anything? Do I need to take you hospital?" He looked into her eyes, his intense marble gaze sending a shiver down her spine. Before Alice could answer, Arthur went to wrap the wound with a bandage from the first aid box, but she instantly flinched away from his touch and moved closer to John, an embarrassed blush crossing her face once she realised what she'd done.

"God they must be thinking so many things of me. Maybe I really have fucked up." She thought, feeling weaker and more embarrassed by the second.

"I'm fine. I'll just wrap it really tight." She said quietly, refusing to meet the eyes of any of the brothers as she opened the first aid box Arthur had placed on the table beside her. Her adrenaline had completely ran out at this point and she felt faint, extremely struggling to maintain her cool facade.

She had to prove that she was fine though.

So like it was nothing, she laid her arm out flat, put a thick layer of cotton and then wrapped the bandage tightly around her wrist. But she couldn't secure it, her hands shaking too much to tie an efficient knot and blood starting to seep out the sides.

The three brothers had all exchanged many glances all throughout the whole ordeal, this time it was just Tommy and Arthur exchanging glances before heading to the bar whilst John bent down and started to help Alice.

"I'm fine, I can do it myself." She tried to speak confidently but her voice started to shake as she felt more embarrassed by the second.

John ignored her protest and she did nothing to stop him as he wrapped the wound properly, his gut secretly twisting the whole time.

"You shouldn't do this to yourself. Why'd you do it just then? Makes no bloody sense." He furrowed his brows and was audibly annoyed, only making Alice shrink back even more.

Her mind was racing with anxieties and regret, fearing that she'd now scared away the man she was falling for and potentially pissed off his family too. There was so much blood, and what if there were bad repercussions for what she just did? What if David was a part of another gang and now they would be after the Blinders?

"Huh? Why'd you want to hurt yourself like this?" He finished tying the bandage before looking up at Alice's face again, surprised to see her eyes watering and her bottom lip quivering.

Instantly upon making eye contact, she looked away and started to blink away the tears, taking a deep breath and desperately trying to calm down before she could be any more embarrassed.

It was too late though.

John wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, placing small kisses on the side of her head as she cried weakly into his chest. From across the room, Tommy and Arthur were both silently surveying the scene, sipping their whiskey and smoking their cigarettes. They knew there was a discussion due about what had just transpired, but for now it was best to leave them to it.

"It's okay. It's over. You're safe." John was repeatedly whispering in her ear, one of his hands moving to rub circles into her back.

She hated feeling so weak in his arms again, cringing as she realised how much he'd seen her cry in the last three months. Even one time was too many. His words did give her strength though and his touch gave her comfort, some of the worst thoughts instantly washing away with it.

"You don't think ill of me do you? For what I just did... Was it too far?" She finally spoke, looking up at him as her tears started to dry.

John smiled slightly and moved a hand to gently stroke her face, unintentionally leaving a red blood streak with his fingers.

"I would've bloody killed him Alice. I've got half the mind to go chase the cunt down and finish the job now. And I recon Arthur would've cut off his fuckin' knob and shoved it down his throat... So no, I don't think you went too far." A small chuckle at the end of his answer made the air lighter and Alice even let the corners of her lips rise.

"You are fucking nuts though." He added with a grin, earning a playful eye roll from Alice as she slightly regained her confidence.

"Is that such a bad thing?" She smirked, finally maintaining eye contact.

John as per, found himself completely dumbfounded by her sudden mood swings - the way she went from being quiet and afraid to cool and calm with the flip of a switch.

"I don't fucking know." He scoffed truthfully, his eyes doing quick darts from her face to her arm to her blood stained dress then back to her face again. "But I like it, so maybe I'm bloody nuts too."

He held her and she they stood silently for a few moments until Alice broke it.

"Well I suppose I ought to tidy all this up." Her voice was seemingly confident and her demeanour relaxed; as if she hadn't just slit her wrist and mutilated a man.

She walked over to the bar but Arthur let out a dry chuckle and stopped her.

"You two go on home, me n Tommy will get this cleaned up."

Alice was way more pleased with that answer than she let on, offering to stay and clean again but John swiftly put his arm around her waist and walked her out the pub, sending his brother a quick nod before closing the door behind him.

A moment of silence passed, Arthur and Tommy staring at the door, before the eldest let out a light scoff and shook his head, stepping away from the bar and to the bloody chair in the centre of the room.

"Fucking nutter that girl is." He mumbled. "She could've just bloody gutted the cunt! Didn't need to slit her wrist!" He looked up at Tommy. "Ey? What the bloody hell she'd do that for?"

Tommy stared back at him, taking a long drag from his cigarette before answering.

"Because she wanted to." He said plainly. "Because for some reason, in her brain, pain feels good.. But that's John's problem for now anyway."

"Right." The elder brother answered, thinking through the words and eventually smirking as he thought of John. "That boy is fucking whipped, suppose it is like fate how she came back though, right into our path that night... You ever found it suspicious Tommy?"

Thomas scoffed before answering "If she had bad intentions for any of us, I'm sure she would've acted on them by now. Girl is more a danger to herself than anyone else."

They both took another swig from their glasses before Tommy's eyes averted to the blood puddle and onto his brother.

"She's still a fuckin' weapon though, keep your eye on her. I think I've come up with a plan - but John ain't gonna like it."

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isa-ghost · 2 years ago

Text

Good afternoon, I have some anti capitalist propaganda for everyone.

I recently got a new boss. He sucks ass for a multitude of reasons, including but not limited to:

Owing at least 3 of my coworkers money for multiple weeks; he owes one $2500+ and another $500+. He keeps saying he'll pay them [insert day] and then doesn't. He has actively refused to pay the one he owes $2500+, even telling her "you make too much," when he made her district manager of all 3 of our stores because he can't take any responsibility for himself.

He requires prepay for a service. Aka you are paying upfront when it's not guaranteed your product (dry cleaning) will come back cleaned right, unruined, or unlost.

He put a fee on our credit card machine so he doesn't have to worry about it with his taxes. He took down the sign he put up to notify customers of said fee, and told us not to tell customers, aka he doesn't want us telling customers we're charging them more than we're saying, and to lie to them. He claimed two weeks ago he'd remove this fee and hasn't.

He said he won't be paying us overtime or sick days. Not paying us overtime is illegal in our state. And dare I mention he said something about making the full time employees (ie: my mother) work 66 hours a week?

He only wants us to have $40 in singles at the end and beginning of each day. Aka we have no change ever for many of our customers who pay in cash, which forces them to use their card on the machine with a fee. When we run low on singles, he makes us walk across our mall's parking lot to the bank where ""he has one million dollars in an account"" to get singles. Yesterday he made me do this in a blizzard and negative temperatures, and the bank was closed because of the Midwest's current deadly weather. So I did it for nothing. When I called and informed him, he said he would come bring me singles to my store. 15 minutes later he called again and said he wouldn't make it because of the snow. I had to ask for exact change or force them to use the machine with a fee.

One morning he straight up forgot to give me any cash at all and took 2 hours to make a 15 minute drive from the main store to my store to give me said cash.

Another time he was supposed to come to my location to collect the day's money. Again, 15 minute drive. He never showed up. Then returned to the main store 5 minutes before it was supposed to close. We have no fucking idea where he was that whole time.

His changes have chased away regular customers who have been coming to us 20+/30+/50+ years. And other less long-time regulars too. We told him all 3 stores are getting several complaints DAILY and being told by SEVERAL customers that they're not coming to our cleaners anymore. He quite literally told me to my face "oh well."

He ignores any and all feedback employees and customers alike give him. He blatantly ignored me to my face twice. Related, he can't get it through his thick fucking head that we're a business in the suburbs, not the city, so things don't work the same as his shitty cleaners in Chicago.

We're a small mom and pop business who's been struggling since the pandemic. This is part of why my previous absolute saint of a boss sold the 3 stores to this douchebag. This ignorant moron said we'd probably lose 10% of our business and "it'd be fine," when we're struggling as it is.

We have 9 employees for 3 stores. He tried to make my coworker he dumped all responsibility on fire 5 of us (rather than doing it himself), including the one that trained her for the job years ago. He called all of us replaceable, even the one he dumped all responsibility on. He also took down all Help Wanted signs and said we definitely have enough staff.

We've caught him in MULTIPLE lies ranging from white lies about his personal life to MAJOR lies about our business and how he wants us to run the stores. We've also witnessed him lie to customers.

He doesn't communicate at all, he's told all 3 stores 3 separate things. There's no reasoning for this, all 3 stores do the same shit. All 3 stores have always done everything the same way before now. He just literally doesn't communicate properly. He changed store hours, and was shocked to find that my store didn't change them weeks later. We didn't change them because he didn't tell us to, he didn't tell us when the change was supposed to go into effect.

He's impossible to contact. If you call and he doesn't answer, his voicemail box is full. He doesn't call back. If you don't have his cell number to text him, you're screwed. There's no guarantee he'll answer texts either.

He's trying to change our entire system that keeps track of customers and implement a text system that will tell the customer their cleaning is done. I told him many customers we get are elderly people who don't text and don't even have smartphones and can't get that notification. He said he didn't care, and that they'd just have to remember their cleaning or forget it. Might I mention that after 60 days or more, he plans on selling the clothes on eBay?

He has a fake service dog (he told my coworker himself) that he brings to our main store every day and forces my coworker to babysit while she does her work. Work that you can't do and watch a dog at the same time. This is the one he owes $2500+ to btw.

That coworker looked up his full legal name (which she has access to since she had all his responsibilities dumped on her, including his personal emails) and found an article that strongly suggests he has a criminal history, if it's definitely him and a credible source. The kicker is, he has a very unique non-White name that we'd be very shocked to hear more than one person has. I can't confirm if the article is legit even so, because I obviously don't have his legal name. But she sent me a screenshot of the article and the crime was gun related. My coworker also saw emails of his that she, a recovering addict, is confident are drug dealing related.

The heat in my specific store hasn't worked properly in months. My previous boss was too tight on money to fix it. He was literally maintaining just enough to pay all employees and the essentials for the stores. He cared way more about us than money.

And the heat not working is what brings me to my real post, despite those reasons being more than enough to birth a new anti capitalist. Here's my REAL post:

So that deadly Midwestern weather right now? -20°F to -70°F in some parts? For my non-Americans, that's -20°C to -56°C. Without "RealFeel"/Wind Chill included. Those are daytime temperatures, not how cold it gets at night.

It was snowing SIDEWAYS almost the entire day yesterday, and he didn't close the stores. I had to work. My car is small and light, it slides and gets stuck super easily. Our roads are not plowed right now. I'm relying on the grooves from traffic to avoid driving in snow that'll get me stuck. I have to drive 20mph at the fastest on roads where the limit is 40-45mph.

Today it's-3°F (-19°C). For the high. RealFeel/Wind Chill is -27°F (-32°C). There are wind gusts up to 55mph. Visibility on the road is almost nonexistent, snow is blowing everywhere in massive walls across the streets, which still aren't properly plowed.

He still had my mom work today from 7am to 3pm, in our store that has no working heating. The inside of our store has been about 50°F (10°C) at the warmest all day. We're relying on two small and unhelpful space heaters, one at the front of the store and one at the back, to keep any form of heat in the store, which is all immediately sucked out the second our door opens for even a second. He also had the audacity to ask my mom to walk across the parking lot in this weather, to the bank as soon as they opened (which isn't even open) to get singles again, rather than bringing them despite there no longer being any snow preventing him from coming in his big ass definitely snow-safe truck.

It's still so cold in this store that my mom and I have our coats, hats, gloves and scarves on. I'm currently wearing 4 layers, a scarf and gloves sitting literally inches from one of our space heaters to keep myself warm. We have had maybe 5 customers since 7am. It's now 4pm.

Normally I would be working until 6pm today. At 6pm, it will be -6°F (-21°C), RealFeel/Wind Chill -40°F (-40°C according to my converter. It's so fucking cold our temperatures are syncing). My mom called our boss to see if we can close early, even mentioning that we've had no business today to try and persuade him further. He said we can. At 4:30pm, which was 2 hours from when she called him.

He's so greedy, he'd rather leave us in these conditions for a little longer despite there being 0 benefit to anyone rather than just sensibly closing right then and there. I've been here an hour and we've had no customers. At 4:30pm, it'll be dark outside on top of the already poor visibility outside, on top of rush-hour traffic, on top of roads in garbage condition.

He's quite literally choosing profit he's not going to make over my and my mom's lives, because if the worst happens as we're driving in those conditions, with the car that slides and gets stuck easily that I mentioned before, we could die if we crash or slide off the road.

Fuck capitalism, eat the fucking rich.

#anti capitalism #anti capitalist #rant #eat the rich #dont worry im ofc going to do my best to stay safe. im not worried but theres Always a possibility things will go wrong #slim likelihood doesnt make what hes doing not shitty

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