#i wrote all of this on one sitting. and in an hr or two. it was fun

[alebrijediscordico]

Hm. This last post somehow made me think about something, but i don't think i can fully speak it coherently, so to whoever is reading, i'm gonna take you to a little adventure.

We start in a white void, as many other written things. No scene to go off of, no characters, no thing to see here. Just words. Or maybe my voice, if that's how your mind works.

But then i'm going to tell you that you and me are now in a cluttered room. The door to enter is behind us as we walk in, close to the corner. It was probably heavy to move if we were to enter this place in a conventional way—the "this door was made on old wood" kind of heavy. In the center of the room are two furnished chairs, and a tiny round table. And if you thought of me walking to the chairs before you while i was narrating, it's probably not gonna be strange for me to pass my hand over the table for a moment right now.

And now i'm sitting down already. Your chair is diagonal to mine. I'm on the chair with the backrest almost pointing to the window. Like i mean, if i put my left arm in the armrest of the chair to turn around, i would comfortably look out the window—which is one of those that are... could i say curved? Is more so a window with a nook. I've always liked those...

Anyway, now that you're seated, that i assume you are, because in the case you're still standing by the door, what are you waiting for? The warm drinks clearly in the table that i never described are waiting for us.

...There you are.

Now that we are sitting down, i'll describe the room further, because "cluttered" might've been enough other times, for when a book needs to progress a story—but here the focus is the little details.

There's two wall-bookshelves to the sides of us, full of thin and thick books; short and long, sometimes long enough to not really fit and so they're folded over other books. You'll see a few journals too—the big, long ones; the ones you'd see from sea captains—, notebooks, and the few spare spaces have trinkets. Colorful candles holding up books, ink bottles put conveniently over some dry splashed ink, a leaf or two, maybe a few wooden toys alongside puppets... dolls? Clown puppet-dolls. You know the ones. And in a few shelves there's little golden hooks from where tiny oil lanterns are hang up. Palm sized almost. Cute, isn't it?

Oh, and the shelves themselves are a brown-red wood. Carved with details i'll leave to your imagination. They're very fancy, almost like as it were shorthand.

I'm taking a sip, one moment.

...

Hmmm... This doesn't really work for the word "cluttered", right?

Let's, then, add the fact that whoever has these bookshelves has papers, files and documents that surely they must've been better kept somewhere appropriate, to keep them good and intact, but are instead... between books. Some are not even as well put between those books? Feels almost rushed. I really hope those are not important...

There's also other things hanging from the hooks, like resplendent ribbons, leftover party decorations, various mismatched holiday decorations in, not only the hooks, but the very few empty spaces left and hanging from the ribbons. One definitely doesn't need to move much around to be ready for the holidays in this place, isn't it? I mean, you'd only need to take out the non-appropriate decorations and colors that don't match the season and hide it somewhere. Maybe in the drawers in the wall to the opposite side of the window? And i mean in the wall, the drawers are the wall.

And now that we are looking at that wall, you'll notice the wood is that same brown-red. Some of those little thing-keepers are open, and... well, i'm not stopping you to go look at whats inside those drawers. Is a six by six wall full of them, and coming from the look of this place, there has to be something interesting there, right?

Let me just warn you about the floor before you stand up, which actually, did you enjoy your warm drink? Maybe it was your favorite, or maybe just the one you would think to be pleasant while warm.

I had some warm chocolate milk myself, if you were wondering.

Anyway, the floor. Under the table we have a circular carpet, yellow, with orange tones and a red ring almost on it's borders. It has a symbol in the middle, on deep blue, almost looks like a very elaborated snowflake... If you find a way to make them more elaborated than they already are, i mean. Is hard to see with how the leg of the table splits on four at the end.

The floor is wood too, light brown. It has very few holes, and from some little plants are starting to grow. It was a matter of time, honestly.

And around our chairs and just under the bookshelves? Piles of books. But specially piles of papers, tall enough to reach my waist. And maybe i'm fairly small, but that doesn't mean there isn't a lot of paper here—all of them are in different stages of use too. Some have things written over, from one single theme, but those are the ones under everything else, the ones in better order. The papers on top of everything, the most on hand, seem to have miscellaneous notes, and on the brink of falling. Maybe reminders, to-do lists, dreams scribbled with an still sleeping hand, or even the best effort of someone to note down the notes of a mental melody, for someone that has half the correct idea of music theory.

You try to not step on anything as you go to the drawers. You most be wondering by now what i wanted to say at the start, and why am i taking so long to tell you. And to that, i'll tell you not to worry. I mean, you were about to go investigate what were in the i-don't-know-how-many drawers, just to find that your hand landed in a ladder. One of those with wheels on the lower tips.

And now you look up. And realize i never told you if there was a ceiling over us.

This place is as much of a tiny library as is a memory. Maybe broken and mixed up, but still.

You go up the ladder to find yourself in a second floor like a balcony, looking down at me. And to answer your possible question, yes. That second floor is as messy as this one, but this time all walls are cluttered bookshelves only. Maybe less ribbons? And actually, is there more skulls in the free spaces between books...?

And what about the ceiling? Well. There's another floor to go to, with the help of another ladder, and then, a window just over the hole the balconies made, like a dome.

It starts raining as soon as you look at it. Odd. But is not much. From where i am, we would call it fool's rain. Or something like that. You'd only get wet with that rain if you were a dummy about it, it's what i'm saying.

Now look at this. I'm handing you a book from one of the bookshelves behind you, on the third floor. It has so many bookmarked pages, the pages are starting to turn yellow, and has a smell like an almost old paper, glue, and a barely noticeable hint of vanilla.

...Wait, how did i get here?

No matter.

I'm gonna rest my arms in the handrail while you look at the book, if you excuse me, and... there it is.

Is the same exact one as the first one from that post. Very pretty, right?

To think it inspired all of this.

Just as pretty as the rest of this place, if i must say so myself. But now tell me... would you want to know what's in the book, what the bookmarks are about, why there's just so many highlighted parts? The dried marked feels funny to the touch, right?

Again, tell me: Is there something in you that would wish to go floor by floor reading every single book, journal, notebook, file and document; look at each trinket, use a bit of that ink on a empty paper—because there must be some kind of quill or pen in those drawers—, and maybe make some of those puppet-dolls rest on each other, like friends?

And once again: what about maybe painting this place to a canvas? Taking a picture from different angles as the sun hits the bookshelves and anything gleaming. Or maybe just sinking in one of the chairs as the night makes this place glow...

If anything of that, or maybe even more that i hadn't thought of, appeals to you, i'm glad.

Because i know, maybe not you, but someone out there, wouldn't.

I've seen it a lot lately. With some very selected people that yearn for a place like this, with the books looking like variations of the one in your hands, with journals full of quotable words, and drawers full of useful things for each moment. But they don't really... want a place like this, at the same time. You know what i mean?

A horrifying thought is that the same people who would want a place like this just for the idea of what it is, a place of "intellect", after a while would try making it "better" by painting everything white, take out a good portion of these books, and leaving in just the necessary. Or less. The pretty to the eye. The minimum. Like the book i gave you, but only that one. Those same people would call this place dark academia and not even check a single book in here, just to be more direct.

Or in way less words, the people who want the image of a reader without reading.

And i mean... i can't blame them.

An aesthetic is formed with patterns, places and things that feel and seem similar and related, sometimes gaining a name. I also like how this place looks in the surface, dark academia as it is is wonderful, honestly. Like a living oil painting; is fascinating. But i worry for the people who chase after the image of things without actually seeing what makes them so magical.

More so since we all been there, in a way or another. Is part of growing up, and not from childhood to adulthood, if you were wondering. From yesterday to tomorrow.

I'm still there in some aspects, trying to get out of that hole.

Each word on every single one of these books... it reminds me of being little and passing my fingers over the many books we had in my house, but i was intimidated to read most of them because of how many words that meant i was gonna read, how many stories and how many concepts they had that i wasn't sure i would grasp. How long it would take to do all of that. If i was ever going to finish... And now i look at this place i made for this occasion (or... in a way) and i think of all the things listed in the files and documents; of reading the thoughts and feelings of other human beings, now pasted for the rest of the world in a journal or book; of all the notebooks with unknown things to be curious of.

And... well, even just looking at this place with a "It is that deep" attitude could tell you a story of it's own, don't you think?

I guess what i wanted to say is that... the world is bigger than people think. Which is scary, so we sit down with comfortable images instead of adventuring beyond into that massive place. I guess it would be also scary to think that when we come back from that world, if we ever do, we won't be the same...

And that will make us "other" to the people we care about.

And in an age where the self can feel so fragile in an ever changing world, where if you don't change fast enough with everyone else, or stay with everyone else...

Is absolutely hellish.

...And once again, if you're wondering how i ended up standing on the ceiling, i have no idea either. Things happen.

But at least it stopped raining, so I'll be heading out from the little glass trapdoor conveniently put in the middle of the window-dome.

And if you want to follow me after thinking as long as you want in this place, remember: The world's a bigger place when each wall is a floor.

[baby-yongbok]

One Last Time

Ex-husband!Bang Chan x afab!Reader

✦ Genre: Soon to be exes to lovers [18+ MDNI] ✦ Summary: Petty claims of possession lead to one last night of pleasure.

✦ CW: Choking/ light breath play, pussy spanking [for a second], Unprotected sex [wrap it up party people], Size Kink [for a second], Oral (f rec.), Chan is... aggressive(??), Chan is referred to as Chris, He calls you a bitch once. only once. ✦A/N: Bang Chan made me do it. There's barely any plot in sight. I wrote this in 4 hrs in the middle of the night. Enjoy! + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

✧ Masterlist ✧

It’s funny how things change. Day turns to night, hot to cold and love to pure seething hatred. 

Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic but you swear that that’s all you can feel swarming in your chest as you sit across from your soon to be ex-husband. 

He made a show of things at the settlement meeting this afternoon. He pushed back on every negotiation you made which has led you to where you are now. Each of you on your side of the bed with a pile of stuff littering the Egyptian cotton sheets that he just has to take with him. 

“There. Are you happy now?” You throw the last item on top of his pile and Chris stares down at the item with that damned smirk that you used to love. “Almost.”

He stands from the mattress, dark eyes on something behind you. He grabs it before you can turn. “I bought you this purse.”

The muffled thud of his hard bottom shoes against the carpet is all that you hear before he turns the black designer bag upside down. The contents clatter against his shoes, items rolling in different directions as you watch with a clenched jaw. 

He’s circling back to his side of the bed as you call upon the might of the gods to keep yourself calm. After being married for five years Chris has learned each and every one of your buttons and how hard he needs to press them just to tick you off. 

You’ve decided not to give him the satisfaction of making a scene. That’ll only feed his ego. Besides, he has buttons of his own, some that you installed yourself.

“Now I’m happy.” He drops the bag into his pile, smiling before you like he’d just gotten away with a million bucks. “Yeah?” 

Two can play that game. “I bought you that suit.” The smirk on blushed lips transfers to your painted ones as you stare over at him with arms crossed over your chest. 

“I’d like it back.” With an innocent bat of your lashes Chris smiles. It’s gone just as fast as it came and it doesn’t reach his eyes. He's pissed. 

“You’re fucking serious?” You hold your hand out to him. “Dead serious.”

Dark eyes are staring into darker ones as he holds your gaze. You’ve gotten used to him challenging you. You’ve gotten used to him being a petty asshole and you’ve learned how to play him at his own game. 

You watch as he pops the button of his suit jacket. Tongue in cheek while his fingers work to free him of the fabric. His eyes stay on yours as he peels the smoky threads from his shoulders. He shimmy’s it down thick arms, pulling at the cuffs until he’s free of it. He’s left in a skimpy t-shirt before you and you take the liberty of letting your eyes wander. 

“Want the pants too?” Chris throws the jacket over into your pile before his hands start to fiddle with the metal of his buckle. “Keep ‘em. They’re the nicest thing you own now.” 

He mumbles something incoherent under his breath, his hand comes up to rake through his hair as his eyes wander the space you used to share. His gaze stops at your vanity, busy eyes study your open jewelry box then look back to you. 

“I gave you those earrings.” He stalks towards the table, snatching the gold studs off of the surface and slipping them into his pocket. “And..” 

The muffled thud of his shoes is all you can hear over the thick tension pulsing around you. It’s all that you can hear over your own enraged heartbeat. “This necklace.” The clasp is snapped from around your neck before you can breathe a protest. You gasp at the sudden pressure of your chain being ripped from you. 

“What the fuck.” That smirk is stolen  back when he slips the jewelry into his pocket. He stands in front of you, barely an inch between you as your chests rise and fall in unison. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

“Me?” He fakes a pout, blinking over at you. “I didn’t do anything” 

“Whatever, you got your stuff, get out.” You’re hissing at him, heart racing and blood bubbling with the annoyance you’ve been harboring for the length of this insufferable process. “I’m done with you.”

“Not so fast.” he says slowly, his hands finding your waist before you can step around him. You attempt to shrug off his grip and fail. “I bought you that too.” 

His eyes trail from your eyes to your lips. His tongue darts out to lick over his own as he stares. “That lipstick.” His eyes find yours again.

“Fuck off, Chris.” There’s a bite to your tone that makes him smile. He’s always loved a challenge. 

“I bought it.” He pulls you into him by your waist. Your body is flush with his and one of his hands quickly abandon the plush flesh to wrap around your neck. “ I wan’ it back. I think that’s fair.”

It’s dark on dark as he leans in, eyes searching each others frantically as Chris closes the gap and kisses you gently. It barely makes a sound, it’s feather light and quick. 

“You want it back?” You whisper against his lips and he nods. “Then I want the pants.” 

That fucking smirk pulls at his red stained lips and his mouth is on yours in an instant. It’s hot and messy, drowning out the previous softness. You grab at his arms, clawing down the flesh while his fingers dig into your hips. 

He licks into your mouth with a desperate groan as you turn your heads left and right, his tongue explores your mouth as he takes in the taste of you one last time. Your arms wrap around his neck as one of his hands grab at the swell of your ass.

 “Fuck.” He groans against you, stealing another kiss before you catch his bottom lip between your teeth. “Up.” With a firm smack on your ass you jump up and his hands find purchase on the curve of your bottom over your dress. 

You fall into a mess of tugging and moaning. The tension you once felt in your chest melts into pleasure as his hands wander your bareskin. He drops you onto the mattress, pushing the sorted piles out of the way and hovering over you in your ripped dress as you lay sprawled out on the sheets before him. 

“Gonna miss this.” Chris’ mouth is stained cherry red with your lipstick, it’s smeared over your cheeks and it compliments the bruises that he’s sucking into your skin. You bunch his shirt up his back, scratching along the way and leaving your own marks as you please. 

“Shut up, eat my pussy.” You pull him back with a fist full of his hair, he hisses a moan through clenched teeth as his own hand finds it’s way around your throat again. He squeezes this time. It’s just enough to have your eyes flutter shut, just enough to get you right where he wants you. 

“Can’t you be my good girl for one more night? Can’t you stop being a bitch for just a second, baby?” Chris leans down with a tighter squeeze. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, your nails digging into the flesh. “Did you already forget who the fuck I am?”

He loosens his grip giving you the satisfaction of that blissful rush before squeezing again. “Do you see how small you are?” He whispers, placing a kiss by your ear. “Do you feel how strong I am, baby? Don’t you know how this goes?”

A moan is all he gets as he pulls back to admire you. Your pretty mouth is parted with a silent moan as your thighs press together in a desperate attempt at cumming. “I should make you suck my cock.” His knee wedges between your legs and presses hard against your core. 

“I should fuck this pretty throat. I should get you back for being such a fucking brat through all of this.” The hand that was around his wrist scratches up his arm as he lets up again, letting the blood rush and giving you the dizzy feeling he knows you love. “I should -”

Your fingers wrap around his neck before he can finish his thought. Fierce eyes stare up into his as your other hand moves to unbutton his pants. “Just gimme what’s mine.”

Your hand slips into the waistband of his underwear as you pull him closer to you. “Wan’ my cock?” He moans at the soft feeling of your fingers wrapping around the tip. Eye’s fluttering shut as he attempts to take a breath against your grip.

 “‘S mine.” You lean up to his ear. “Isn’t it daddy?”

It was quick when he pinned you against the mattress. Both of your wrists were in his grip before he shifted them both to one hand to free his cock for you. “You’re a fucking tease. You’re so fucking predicatable, you know that?” He’s hissing as he fights with the fabric of his pants and your dress. 

“You want a reaction outta me, huh? Wanna rile me up, sweetheart?” With a shift of hands and a grunt he’s turning the two of you over. You follow him with a gasp, straddling his waist and sitting over his cock with your clothed cunt. “C’mon I’ll let you. Use me, get what you want.”

Your resolve sinks as his cock twitches against your core. Chris is lying beneath you looking like a sin personified and you feel compelled to indulge in his offer. He is still your husband after all. 

Your panties are pushed to the side in an instant. Chris’ wrists are pinned over his head while you grind your cunt over him. Sloppy sounds of you working over his leaking cock swirl in the hot air and Chris watches it all with drooping lids as you work against him. “Put it in, lemme watch it.”

You ignore him, slowing your grind to counter his request. “C’mon, baby, lemme feel you. I can make you feel so good. Let daddy fuck you, c’mon.” He watches you, head reeled back and moans dripping from your lips like drool as you  do as you please. 

“Fuckin’ tease.” He breaks free from your hold, hands wrapping around your waist and guiding the grind of your hips just as your clit catches on the head of his cock. “I asked nicely.” 

His cock catches at your entrance as he controls you. The push of him against your pussy has your mouth open in a silent scream as he bullies his cock into you. “You keep forgetting who I am, hm?” He sits up, landing a firm smack to your ass to match his brutal thrust as you settle in his lap.

“Chris, shit, just fuck me. Fuck me.” Your nails are in his back, drawing lines that could surely draw blood. He hisses at the pain, smiling with a bite of his tongue as he fucks up into you. 

His hips snap into yours, gradually picking up the pace until you’re falling apart against him. Chest to chest, you’re panting into each other. Littering the thick air with profanities as he splits you open on his dick. “Oh my fucking god, Chris. More. More more more, please. C’mon.”

“Take it.” He growls below you, allowing you to push him back against the mattress and ride his cock to your heart's content. “That’s it, take it. It’s yours, all yours.”

Your nails dig into his pecks, leaving marks on the flawless skin and you use him for leverage. The loud smack of skin against skin decorates the air accompanied by your moans.

 “Don’t hold back, baby. Enjoy that fucking ride.” He thrusts up into you, meeting you halfway. “Let loose, just like that.”.

Chris is rambling under you, mumbling under his breath and growling praises when he fucks deep into you. 

“Fuck me, fuck me harder. Wan’ it harder.” It’s dark on dark again. Hooded eyes stare into each other void of rage, the only priority is pleasure. You’re only here to take advantage. 

“Wan’ me harder?” He fucks into you, moaning at the squeeze you give. “Wan’ me deeper?”

With a lift of his hips Chris flips you over. “Be good for me, yeah? One last time, be a good fucking girl and lay on your back for me. Lemme eat this pretty pussy.” He rips your dress down your frame with a grunt. Your panties get the same treatment before he’s falling to his knees before you. 

“Gonna miss you on your knees.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, staring down at him behind a fucked out haze. “Lookin’ so pretty for me with a mouth full of my cunt.”

With a smirk Chris licks a wet stripe from your hole to your clit. He swirls his tongue around the bud, sucking it between red stained lips and flicking it. Your head drops back against the mattress with a loud moan. Your hands comb through and grab at his damp dark locks but he quickly repositions you to hold yourself open for him. 

“Watch me eat it.” He reaches up, brushing your chin with his fingertips. He lays a flat wet lick to your pussy, hooded eyes staring up into yours. “Eyes on me. Eyes on daddy.”

He spreads your cunt with his fingers, holding you open for him while he spits down onto your clit. He collects it all on his tongue, licking it over the nub before spitting it back. Sloppy slurps against a drooling pussy is all that fills the room. “Daddy, please, wanna cum on your cock.”

He pulls back with a pop, spitting back down onto your cunt. He watches it drip down to your hole, following the stream with his fingers to press it into you. 

“You wan’ me deep right?” His middle and pointer fuck you open as he coos. “Want me to spread this tiny cunt on my dick?” You’re moaning. Panting confirmations and whining pathetically into the air. 

“Then hold it.” He kisses your clit, sucking it in then releasing. “Don’t cum.”

“Please.” You moan a plea, unraveling little by little with each suck and flick of your clit. His fingers fuck you open, curling into your soft spot and pushing you further towards the edge that you’re trying to avoid. 

You could just cum. You could just take what he’s giving you instead of following the rules but it’s so good like this. He’s so good like this. You miss him giving you what you want.

“Chris, ‘m gonna cum for you. I can’t. Please jus’ gimme.” He blinks up at you with pussy drunk eyes as his kiss bitten lips move against you despite your begging. “Daddy, please. I wan’ your cock.”

"Don't cum for me yet" he speaks against your cunt before licking a wet kiss up to your clit. 

"I can't, Chris. I can't, I can't, I'm gonna cum." Your eyes are glued to the way he licks up and down your swollen pussy. Taunting you with the skill he's gained over the years. He's pushing your buttons again.  

"Daddy, daddy, daddy, please you have to let me. You’re gonna make me cum. Your mouth, your fucking mouth, please let me cum."

You're babbling, you know you are. You’re slipping through the cracks quickly and you can’t do a thing to stop it. There’s no going back and Chris knows it but he still smacks the inside of your thigh. Warning you to be good for him and let him build you up a bit more before you take his cock again.

"Don't." He kisses your clit. "Cum." He sucks the bud into his mouth and swirls his tongue over it with a moan. He's a madman if he thinks you could survive that. 

"Fuck, 'm cumming. I'm cumming, 'm sorry." You’re shaking, your nails dig into your thighs as you keep yourself open for him.  "Cumming, 'm cumming, I can't stop cumming, I can't stop cumming."

He moans into you as he laps up every drop of arousal that you're giving him. He commits your sweet taste to memory with one final swipe of his tongue before he’s kissing up your stomach. 

His lips trail up the valley of your breasts. He licks over the mound, sucking your nipple into his mouth and swirling it with a hum. Once he’s satisfied he moves to your shoulder, kissing and licking his way over to your collarbone then finally his lips are back on yours.

You’re gasping as you tremble through your orgasm, aftershocks wash over you as you taste yourself on his tongue. Chris smirks, whispering against your lips. "No one else will make you feel this good, baby. No one else will make you cum like this.”

The head of his cock slips through your dripping folds, catching against your clit before he’s pushing in. “This is mine. All mine." He sinks in to the hilt then slowly drags his cock back against your walls. 

“This is what I want.” He straightens up, looking down at your pretty face contorted in pleasure. 

“All of that other shit doesn’t matter.” He moans, holding your thighs back to get a perfect view of you.  “I wanna watch it. Wanna see the way my pussy opens up for me. ‘S mine, isn’t it, baby? Tell me this shit is mine.”

“Yours, it’s yours. Fuck, ‘s fucking yours, please, you’re gonna make me cum.” Chris slows his strokes, grinding deep into you and dipping his hips to hit the soft spot that turns you into putty for him.

You’re drooling at the feeling. Tears threaten to fall from the corners of tired eyes as you watch the way he admires your cunt. The corner of his bottom lip is tugged and held firm between his teeth as he fights back his moans so that he can hear yours clearer.

“Shit, You’re gonna make me cum. Gonna make me fucking cum, make daddy cum.” The precise snap of his hips grows sloppy as the seconds pass. His once slow grind is now erratic. He’s purely seeking pleasure, sinking deeper into the haze with every drag. 

“Fuck, squeeze me. Yeah, just like that, that’s my girl. Pretty fucking girl on my cock.” Each thrust is met with a slap to your clit. You jolt at the contact, back arching off of the mattress. “Cum for me. Cum on my dick.” 

With one more flick of your clit you're trembling beneath him. Your cunt sucks him in and he takes it all with a loud moan. Chris lets your legs fall so that he can hover over you. He holds himself up on his elbows as he kisses you through your climax. You moan into it, shaking with each thrust and twitch of his cock. 

“Shit, that’s good. So good, baby, ‘m gonna cum.” The frantic bucking of his hips against yours comes to a halt as he falls apart. 

Moans tumble forward as he does. His muscles tense and his eyes roll back as he drives himself deep into you, filling you with every drop of himself that he has to offer. Chris collapses on top of you, his weight pinning you in place. 

You pant below him, coming down from your high as aftershocks wash over him. He kisses your neck, breathing heavily into your skin. 

“Now.” He pulls back slightly, gaze catching yours. “Now I’m happy.”

Thank You For Reading! Please Reblog or Comment to let me know how you liked it! It makes my day! 💕

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[sporesmoldandfungi]

The List - Jim Halpert x F!Reader Smut

A/N : This is an AU where Pam marries Roy and leaves Scranton. Reader takes over her position as receptionist. This is loosely inspired off the PDA episode from Season 7. I pictured S2-S3 Jim when I wrote this.

Working a dead end office job had its perks. Very few, but there were some to name. Being able to sneakily play solitaire throughout the day. The fun albeit ridiculous parties thrown by Michael. But by far the best thing about working in reception at Dundler Mifflin was Jim Halpert.

His desk being merely a few feet away from yours gave you every opportunity to sneak glances at the handsome salesman. Out of all the hobbies you had, sneakily eye fucking Jim Halpert was your favorite one. You loved the way his arms flexed whenever he leaned back in his chair. The way his head gently tilted back, revealing his neck and small stubble. The way his floppy brown hair swooped over his forehead, perfectly framing his face. But he was Jim, and you were you.

You and Jim were complete opposites. He was a natural leader, taking charge of the office whenever Michael was out. He was charming, friendly, funny, kind, you could go on and on. He was so much, so much and you felt little in comparison.

You’d only been working at Dunder Mifflin for a few months, taking over once the previous receptionist tied the knot with a certain warehouse worker. You had kept to yourself mostly, still trying to get a read on everyone. When you first started, you’d sworn Jim was stealing glances at you, making you all the more hopeful he would come to his senses and be with you. After that, you two had become inseparable. Being partners in crime, confidantes, friends. You prayed it would turn in to something more. It was only when Phylis revealed that Jim used to harbor a crush on the previous receptionist and was mostly likely staring at you out of habit, did your hopes crush.

After that, you two rarely spoke, only when about work related things. You didn’t sit together in conference meetings anymore, silently laughing to each other at Michael’s ridiculousness. You didn’t eat lunch together anymore, letting Jim pick off your plate while he let you sip on his grape soda. It was almost like you were strangers.

So, when Michael called another needless conference meeting, you thought nothing of it. You filed into the room, following the long train of people. The seats quickly filled, leaving only one open next to him, next to Jim. You swallowed hard and quietly sat next to you, smoothing out the material of your black skirt. He offered you a polite smile.

That bastard. You thought to yourself.

You gave one back, a litter faker than his but still with nice undertones. You both looked ahead as Michael began rambling about PDA in the office. This caused Dwight to read aloud a list of everyone who had in some way done PDA in the office. He went down the long list of people, the only two names he didn’t list were yours and Jim’s.

Jim nudged your shoulder, making you turn away from the unfolding scene. He gave you a look of disbelief and shook his head in amazement, a quiet chuckle leaving his lips. You involuntarily smiled back, shaking your head along with him. So easily, you fell back into your usual rhythm with him.

He leaned over, speaking in a voice only you could hear. “Are you seeing this? Or am I dreaming?”

“Not a dream, Halpert. Unless you want me to pinch you.” you joked, moving your fingers in a pinching motion in front of his face.

He laughed and pushed your hands away gently. “Man, out of all the inappropriate things that has happened in this room, this meeting takes the cake.”

“I wouldn’t be to sure about that. From the sound of it, everyone else has done it in here already.” You joked, earning a disgusted looking face out of him.

You laughed at his stupid expression. Damn it, why is it so easy to like Jim Halpert? Why can’t he be more of a jerk?

Toby quickly ended the meeting before any more HR violations could be made. The rest of the office quickly left the room and went back to their desks. Michael and Dwight went into his office, no doubt trying to hatch some plan to fight back against PDA.

You rose from your seat next to Jim’s and smiled at him. He stood next to you, practically towering over you. He returned your smile and looked down at you softly. “I’ve missed you, Y/N. Where’ve you been?”

You felt the guilt rush into your system at the vulnerability in his face. You shrugged and honestly said to him, “I don’t know.”

He nudged your shoulder softly and gave you a more friendly smile. “Well, don’t do it again. As your superior, that’s an order.” He said, waving his finger in front of your face with fake authority.

“Aye, aye captain.” you responded, fake saluting him.

You shared a quiet laugh before following the train of people out the door, both of you returning to your respective desks.

The rest of the day was somewhat normal compared to previous. You and Jim ate together at lunch again. You didn’t realize how much you missed the taste of grape soda until you snuck a few sips from his can again. He frequently came up to reception, snacking on the candies as you two caught up with each other.

It was nearing four o’clock when he came back up to your desk. Leaning down, popping a M&M in his mouth, watching you type a memo for Michael.

“I still can’t believe it.” he said, breaking the silence.

You paused your typing and looked up into his hazel eyes. “Believe what?”

“That everyone has been getting it on in here. It’s disgusting!” He joked, popping another candy into his mouth.

You shrugged, “I don’t know, I kinda get it.”

He looked shocked and shook his head. “What do you mean? Why would anyone wanna hook up in the office?”

“Well, it’s kinda erotic. Sitting at a desk, knowing that no one else knows what you’ve done it. Well, except for you and him. I get the appeal.” you said, a blush creeping up to your cheeks.

Jim smirked and looked at you in disbelief, “Man, I didn’t know you had such a dirty side to you, Y/N.”

You leaned forward, close enough to him that you could smell his cologne fan off his skin. Newfound confidence and boldness grew in you as you spoke, “Well, there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Halpert.”

His smirk faltered for a moment, surprised at the sudden shift in the conversation. He regained it quickly, moving in closer, his lips hovering inches above yours. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

And with that, he popped another candy in his mouth, stuck his hands in the front pockets of his slacks and walked back to his desk.

You sat there in shock for a brief moment. What the hell was that? Where did that sudden confidence come from? And was Jim seriously flirting back? Maybe you were the one dreaming. You tried shaking it off, returning to typing the memo.

Before you could get two words in, you see an IM pop up on your screen. It was from Jim. You looked over your desk to see that he looked normal, drumming his fingers against his desk as he worked. You took a breath before opening it.

Jim : You look a little red over there, something on your mind?

Your eyes reread the passage over and over, still sneaking glances at him when you could. He still sat in his chair, looking as bored as ever. Not at all like he was flirting with you over IM. You took a deep breath before replying.

Y/N : I’d bet you’d like to know.

You watched as Jim leaned forward, obviously reading the message. He looked over to you, catching you in the act of staring at him. He smirked when he saw the pink flutter back up your cheeks. You watched as he quickly typed a response, the message appearing on your desktop within seconds.

Jim : Pretend there’s something wrong with your computer.

You looked confused. What the hell does that have to do with anything? You looked over at him and he just nodded, leaning back in his chair slightly. You took a deep breath and groaned loud enough to get the attention of a couple of people.

“Damn it!” You mumbled, pretending to struggle with a loose wire behind the monitor.

Jim stood up, casually walking over. “What’s up?” He said, loud enough for others to hear.

Once they saw he was helping with whatever problem your computer was having, anyone who saw the interaction went back their work, leaving you two in silence.

“I-“ you said, trying to think of a lie.

He leaned close down and whispered a fake lie for you to say in your ear. You repeated it loudly, playing along with whatever game he was playing.

“Well, I could probably fix that for you. But I’ll need to check under your desk. Mind if I poke around down there?” He asked.

You reluctantly nodded, still having no idea what he was up to. You watched as he smirked, walking around the desk and meeting your side. He slowly sunk on the ground, his body now covered by the large desk. You looked down and watched as he settled in between your legs, no where near the computer he claimed to be fixing. You opened your mouth to ask him what the hell he was doing, but was cut off with a gasp at the feeling of his hands slowly traveling up your legs.

You quickly covered up the sound with a cough, averting any attention it may have gotten. Once you finished, you leaned down, ducking your head low so you could talk to Jim without anyone hearing.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” you whispered at him.

“Well, I’m simply fulfilling a request. You were the one who said having sex in the office was hot. I’m simply following orders, Y/N.” He said, smirking. The feeling of his hands traveling closer and closer to your thighs burned into your skin. You clenched them, refusing him entrance. He looked up at you and shook his head in disapproval. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Y/N. It’s your call.”

You weighed your options, looking down at the image of Jim, smirking between your legs. On one hand, you had dreamed of this day the second you laid eyes on him. On the other, this was not the place you imagined it happening. The idea of him eating you out with everyone around, with anyone being able to spot it, made your stomach twist with delight. You looked down, seeing the impatient look on his face. You took a deep breath and parted your legs slowly for him.

“Good girl.” he whispered, his voice low and dripping with sex.

You almost let out a moan at the sound, but you bit your lip to suppress it. You sunk in your chair, hiding your face behind your monitor trying to relish the feeling of his hands going up your skirt. Your eyes fluttered close as you felt his index finger trace the outline of your panties. You were almost certain he could see the damp spot forming on them, getting wetter with each touch. His finger just about went under the waistband, but the phone rang, interrupting it. You looked down at him with wide eyes, silently asking him what to do.

“Answer it.” he ordered, looking up at you with hooded eyes.

You nodded and breathed a sigh of relief when you felt his hand leave the threshold of your panties.

“Dunder Mifflin, this is-“

Your words cut off in your throat as you feel Jim’s lips place a chaste kiss to your clothed pussy. You jerked in your seat, your knees hitting the desk as you reacted to the feeling. You feel him smirk against your panties as you try to find the words again.

You clear your throat before speaking, “Dunder Mifflin, this is Y/N.”

The sound of the person on the other line merely go in ear and out the other. Your mind is only focused on the feeling of Jim’s tongue, licking a long stripe up your clothed heat. You try your hardest to focus on the words going in your ear, and push back the feelings of pleasure Jim was giving you. You were almost succeeding until you feel his index finger slide under the side of your panties and tease your hole, covering itself in your arousal. If that wasn’t enough, his words made it impossible to hear a single word coming from the phone.

“Jesus, you’re fucking soaked. I haven’t even done anything yet.” he said.

You let out a small whine at his words. Quickly trying to salvage the noise as it leaves your lips, you cough loudly. Apologizing the to person on the phone, you continue speaking, your voice wavering as Jim continues teasing you, his finger just covering itself in your dripping pussy.

As the man on the phone starts to ramble about prices, you have to bite your hand to repel the moan that’s about to leave your mouth as you feel Jim shove his fingers into your tight hole, curling upward as he does.

As you make ‘mhm’s and ‘uhuh’s at the man’s words, you squeeze around Jim’s fingers. You take a quick glance down, locking eyes with Jim as he pumps his fingers in and out of you at an agonizing pace. You pout your bottom lip, silently begging him to speed up. He smirks and mimics your pout, enjoying the needy look on your face.

“So, do you think you guys can cut me a deal?” the man on the phone asks.

You open your mouth speak and cry out as you feel Jim increase his speed immensely, his thumb toying with your swollen clit as he does.

“Yes!” you moan into the phone, earning to strange glances from your coworkers. You struggle to compose yourself, fighting urge to scream your head off in pleasure. “Y-Yes. We can.”

“You’re so fucking tight, I can feel you gripping my fucking fingers.” Jim say quietly, kissing your thigh.

The man on the phone asks to be transferred to sales, surprisingly sold on purchasing paper from you, despite the strange phone call. You frantically type in someone’s extension, saying a quick goodbye before hanging up the phone. Using your free hand, you use it to grip Jim’s hair, your fingers tangling themselves in his brown locks. You hear him moan at the feeling, his lips sending vibrations against your thigh. You feel the coil in your stomach tighten more and more, threatening to snap at any second. Your hand digs into Jim’s hair tighter, feeling like if you let go of him, you’ll lose this feeling.

“Jesus, are you already gonna cum?” He groans, looking up at you from your thighs.

You sneak a glance at him and nod fervently, afraid to answer him without moaning.

He groans quietly in response, ducking his head down once more. His fingers increase in speed and go deeper if that was even possible. You feel them graze against your g-spot, making your head roll back in response, your eyes screwing shut.

You chase the feeling of your climax, feeling it approaching closer and closer. As if he can read your mind, Jim pulls aside your panties more, granting his mouth access to your pussy. He removes his thumb on your clit and replaces it with his mouth, licking and sucking on the swollen nub. You don’t even have to warn him, you feel yourself cumming before you know it. Your pussy squeezes around his fingers as he helps you ride out your orgasm. It washes over you like a tidal wave. It takes all your strength and willpower to not let out the almost pornographic moan threatening to leave your lips.

You sit in your chair, breathless and dripping. You feel his fingers leave your entrance, whining quietly at the feeling. He takes a long lick up your pussy, licking up the mess you made. He gently fixes your panties and skirt before rising. Your cum glistening on his chin, dripping down his jaw. He sits up, wiping his mouth before casually saying, “Should be working a lot better now.”

You watch in disbelief as he walks back to his desk. It takes you a few moments to compose yourself, but once you do, you only have one thought on your mind.

You’re now determined to return the favor.

[russellsppttemplates]

Max (or lando) is streaming and the oldest comes in and asks to watch so they do and then reader walks in and tells then dinner is ready and it’s just all cute and that

Note: I wrote a lot for Max yesterday, so I chose Lando!

"Yes?", Lando called back after he heard a knock on the door, turning to see your daughter by the door, "can I come in, daddy?", Matilda asked quietly, knowing hr was streaming.

"Of course you can, princess! Come here", he said, turning on his side so she could walk up to him and sit on his lap, "is that chat?", she asked, not knowing how to read yet but recognising them moving fast on the screen, "yes, baby, can you say hi to them? They're saying you look very pretty in your bow and that you're very cute", Lando summed the messages up, seeing her smile as she waved shyly to the camera, "Hi, chat! My mummy did my hair today, and grandma always says I'm cute like mummy, too", she blushed, hiding her face in Lando's neck for a brief moment before she took a little peek at the screen, one of her hands going up to his curls so she could play with them, "what are you playing?", she wondered, "mummy went up to put Fraser to sleep, he was being very fussy, though".

Luckily for him, the game was pretty kid friendly, cars racing on the track on the screen, "I'm driving, see?", he showed her, "That's me in there", he smiled as he pointed to the map on the bottom right side of the screen as Matilda focused on it, "did she say she needed help?", he asked Matilda. "No, she said to tell you that she could do it on her own", she replied simply.

"You're winning, daddy! Go, daddy, go!", she cheered as he expertly worked the commands, fighting closely before finishing first in the end, "you won!", she said as she kissed his cheek, "is that my gift for winning?", Lando wondered, hugging her body closer to his now his hands were not needed on the keyboard, "yes, and I can also make a drawing for you after dinner!", she smiled.

"Guys?", you knocked on the door, seeing two pairs of identical eyes look at you, "Dinner is ready!", you sang before getting in shot, "Hi chat! I know they look very cute, how do you think I feel all day everyday?", you chuckled before kissing both of their heads, "whenever you can come down for dinner, it's ready. I made your favourite, Tilly", you winked.

"Bye-bye, chat!", the little girl waved, "C'mon, daddy! Mummy made my favourite, we have to hurry!", she said as she climbed out of his lap, hurriedly meeting you in the dining room as Lando ended his stream, "it was nice, everyone! Until next time!".

(Thank you for your submission ✨️)

[seresinhangmanjake]

Simon "Ghost" Riley is afraid to propose to his girlfriend (reader)

notes/warnings: fluff, angsty-ish, cursing, typos i'm sure (i wrote it in like an hr and then lost all energy to closely proofread. sorry)

words: 1367

Simon Riley Masterlist

Forty-Two months. You’ve been together for forty-two months, and Simon Riley is no fool. He knows what he has. Through every imaginable horror, you’ve been by his side. You’ve held his hand, kissed his forehead, brushed your fingers through his hair, let him lay on top of you after a night of sex when he’d just needed to feel you and know that you’re with him. You’ve cried with him and for him. And when it’s asked of you, you’ve waited for him. 

You’re absolutely everything. Of perfect quality despite your flaws. A reminder that things in this world are soft, beautiful, gentle. When he loses faith in the concepts of decency and humanity because of the things he’s seen, you refuel what has been depleted. You make things make sense in a cruel existence. And yet, he hasn’t asked you to marry him. 

Ok, maybe he is a bit of a fool.

For forty-two months you’ve watched your friends get married, cousins and second cousins, and even your mother and your aunt—all of whom began relationships with their new spouses long after you and Simon declared yourselves officially together. You’ve taken Simon to so many weddings in the past three and a half years that you’d both agreed you’d had your fill. But Simon is under no illusions that if it were for you and him, you’d manage to find the energy for one more wedding. 

You don’t pressure him or drop painfully obvious hints, and if he’s honest, that almost makes it worse. Price and Gaz and even Johnny have faced threats of their own in the past by the women they’ve been with, with varying results. Price was happy to agree. Gaz a little less, but his lady was pregnant and it was the right thing to do. But Johnny…Johnny wouldn’t marry his current broad if it meant a quick death. You, though, are a gift. Better than all of them in Simon’s eyes. You deserve to have the man who loves you acknowledge that love by asking you to be his wife. Simon just can’t bring himself to ensure that that man is him.

He attributes that roadblock to your relationship not being equal. He doesn’t provide you with everything you provide him. While he does his best to be supportive and loving and comforting, you’ve mastered those skills and he can’t compete. And how is it fair to ask you to pull that weight for the rest of your lives?

It doesn’t stop him from wanting to ask, but when the question is on his tongue, he can’t get it out. However, because you’re stronger than him, more open and sure of what you want, it turns out he doesn’t have to.

—

“Simon, will you marry me?”

You’re not looking at him. You’ve been spooning on the couch for the last three hours watching mindless TV, and he’s refused to let you up from your spot. At the question, his hand under your shirt that has been lazily fondling your breast freezes. He’s half hard and was about thirty seconds from trailing that hand down your body and into your sleep shorts, but now he can’t. 

Simon swallows. “W-What?” he asks, though he absolutely heard you. Does anyone mistake those words for anything other than what they are? 

His pounding heart clogs his ears, but to his surprise, his cock gets a little harder. 

After too many beats of silence, you guide his hand out of your shirt, and with a sigh, you stand, round the couch, and go into the bedroom. In your absence, he sits up, running a hand through his hair and blowing out a breath. 

What just happened? He thinks. And what the fuck did he just do? He didn’t answer the way he should have and now you’re gone. He’s hurt you, and he’s so focused on his fuck up that he doesn’t notice you come back until you’re standing directly in front of him. 

A black band is trapped between your thumb and index finger. You’re not smiling. There’s no glimmer in your eye. You simply hold the ring, staring at it. 

“I just want to marry you,” you say, your voice dripping with the disappointment he knows you’re expecting. “And you haven’t asked me.” 

“Love–” he starts, but then you drop to your knees, calves folded under your thighs. 

His heart cracks right down the middle, jagged and splintered. A few pieces fall into his gut. You still won’t look at him, so he reaches out a hand, cups your cheek, and turns your face up to his. 

“You don’ kneel to me, Love,” he tells you, his thumb stroking your cheekbone.

Half-heartedly chuckling, you say, “Sometimes I do.”

Simon lets his lips curl into a slight smile because his girl is still in there. Despite the forlorn look on your face, he didn’t completely break your spirit with one unanswered question. And thank fuck for that.  

He doesn’t mean to, but he forces you to sit in limbo as he thinks. The woman he loves is on her knees asking for something that she so evidently believes she isn’t going to get. And yet, it’s from that risk—that display of your love for him and the leap you’re willing to take to prove it—that Simon snaps out of every negative thought that has held him back. 

Hand dropping from your face, he rises from the couch and, just as you had, makes his way into the bedroom. He has no idea where you’d hidden his, but yours has been in a dresser drawer for nearly a year, tucked behind the socks that are never worn because he has too many pairs. 

When he returns, he stops dead in his tracks because you’re still sitting there but your head is down again and a teardrop falls onto your bare thigh as you fiddle with the ring, and that is unacceptable; his behavior is unacceptable. And now he’s more sure than ever. 

Simon discards the box and goes to sit back on the couch. Your embarrassment is palpable, and he hates himself for yanking that out of you. Shame is the last thing he has ever wanted you to feel in his presence. 

Ring between his fingers, Simon lowers his hand until he’s sure the diamond is within your line of sight. 

Your gasp is faint but he catches it—a master at catching every little sound you make and savoring his ability to have you make them. Your head shoots up, eyes wide as they connect with his. 

With his free hand, Simon brushes away the tears that have yet to fall from your cheeks. 

“Switch,” he says. 

“What?”

He takes your hand, pulling you with him as he rises to his feet, and turns your bodies. “Sit,” he says, and you do. Then he eases onto one knee, ignoring the crack of his bones, and holds out the ring. “I’m so sorry it came to this, Love. I didn’—” he shakes his head, “’s my fault.”

Your head cocks to the side. “Your fault?”

“My fault,” he nods, his brow pinching as he decides how to say what he needs to. “You’re my wife,” he says. “I know you’re my wife—I’ve known it—but I get in my head and I start going through the list of things that I don’ think I deserve, and you’re the Queen of that list, Love. You make everything else on that list seem so unimportant that they have no right bein’ there.”

“Simon…”

“But I’ll make you a deal,” he continues. “I’ll marry you, if you marry me.”

You snicker and, excluding the tears he’d caused, your face does exactly what he’d hoped it would do wherever he imagined proposing. The only detail unaccounted for is your answer, which he supposes is fair. He hadn’t directly given you one either. 

But then you say one the best damn things he’s ever heard leave your mouth. 

Your pretty lips part and you tell him: “Yes.”

A/N: I don’t think love has to be affirmed in the form of a proposal and wedding, but for the sake of the fic…

[rottenpumpkin13]

Do you think that since Shinra is such a massive company, does SOLDIER have to deal with office buraucracies? I wonder how Sephiroth would fare against endless forms hell

Oh SOLDIER is buried in bureaucratic nonsense just like everyone else. There are at least ten forms to fill out, five meetings to attend, and three "approval processes" standing between you and basic necessities. Some notable mentions include:

• Angeal once requested a new desk after his old one broke. HR demanded visual evidence that the desk was no longer functional. Instead of sending a photo of the broken desk, he sent a picture of Sephiroth sitting cross-legged on the floor, attempting to fill out reports with a clipboard. Approval was immediate.

• The bureaucracy is so profound that Genesis had to fill out three forms to request a form that would allow him to request permission to submit a complaint about there being too many forms.

• Sephiroth was reprimanded for "recklessly abandoning office duties" after taking a walk around Sector 0 to clear his head. HR made him fill out a Behavioral Justification Form, which included the question: "Would you do it again?" Sephiroth, fed up, wrote "Next time, I'll be shirtless, drunk, and loudly negotiating rates with the nearest sex worker." The form was mysteriously approved with a note: "Do not."

• Zack submitted a vacation request to visit home. The system flagged "Gongaga" as an unrecognized destination and required him to submit a "Geographical Verification of Existence" form. When he pointed out that there's literally a reactor in Gongaga, they wrote back and told him that Gongaga doesn't exist. Zack had a nervous breakdown and had to be sedated.

• Angeal had to submit a Proof of Sword Ownership form before being allowed to requisition maintenance supplies for the Buster Sword. When he pointed out that he's literally the only person in the building with a sword that large, he was asked to provide a sworn affidavit from at least two witnesses. Genesis and Sephiroth were the two unhelpful witnesses, and respectively wrote "His sword is big~" and "Give the man his oil."

• Genesis tried to requisition a coffee machine for the SOLDIER lounge but was told he needed to prove "sufficient caffeine demand." In response, he submitted a video of Zack beating the energy drink vending machine with a crowbar when it was broken.

• Speak of the vending machine, Genesis once wrote "Banora White juice" under the refreshment preferences requisition form. This triggered a four-week investigation into whether Banora White products posed a "brand conflict" with Shinra's drinks. Genesis was fined for "improper beverage selection." He then showed up to HR with a pipe bomb the next morning and was consequentially banned from the floor.

• Genesis (this is after he was banned) once had to provide official proof of his own existence to be approved for a company ID renewal. He submitted all his paperwork and was denied. He then threw a can of Banora White juice through the glass doors of the entrance, shattered it, and was banned from filling out forms.

• Sephiroth tried to get the broken lights in the training room fixed. Maintenance requested "Proof of Insufficient Illumination." He sent them a pitch-black photo with the note: In photo: Myself doing "thumbs up" gesture.

• God forbid you need something urgent. Zack needed a first-aid kit for training injuries, and they made him submit a "Medical Incident Form" to prove people actually get hurt during combat simulations. Angeal wasn't having it, so they malicious compliance-d their way out of it by carrying Sephiroth, pretending to be on the brink of death, up to the HR office to show them.

• Sephiroth requested blackout curtains for his quarters to block the constant glare of Shinra floodlights. They asked for proof of "adverse effects caused by lighting." He sent them a picture of himself, showcasing his dark circles and an expression so deranged that they sent him the curtains, along with a wellness check request.

[wayfayrr]

Alright, I wonder how long an ask can be. U asked for it!😝

Also, if u were curious, since I’ve only played Botw and most but not all of totk, 98% of the time my yandere self-aware ideas will be of Wild/Tears.

How does Wild/Tears feel about the fairies? Like, is he embarrassed that reader has to watch that? Does he worry what they think? Or is he just like “eh, I can’t control their upgrade animations, sorry”. Then how does he feel when reader thinks it’s kinda cute/funny? I don’t want to traumatize the poor guy, but I must admit watching the level four animation is slightly funny bc I feel so bad for him. And in level three when he covers his face is cute.

What about when he just has to sit there for 10 hrs his time? Listen, I wanna upgrade the darn champion’s tunic but the stupid upgrades require 2 of each farmable dragon Zelda item. And I couldn’t find her for so long it was annoying. Ik she follows a certain path but even so u have to just keep following the path hoping u eventually run into her. So I just decided to farm an item, then sit there for 10 minutes r time until she’s farmable again. So how does Tears feel? Am I wasting his time? Is he bored? If he had an animation for it would he fall asleep? Would he glare at me for making him sit there for 10 hours? Plus, ima be honest. For those 10 minutes of me just waiting, I’ll usually scroll on my phone. I’m not gonna stare at the tv for 10 minutes, sorry lol. So is he mad that I’m not paying attention to him and stuff?

What about if I laugh at him? Alright, I don’t do it That much lol, just if I make an embarrassing mistake w him and he looks a little funny. Would he be embarrassed? Mad? ….?? I think he’s cuuute! It’s fiiine, right…?😭

Thinking about my one ask where I used him for science, totally not using bombs on him for any other reason! Anyway, so I have to admit, his overheating animation I like. I’m all for angst/whump w characters. Whenever I read AO3, 98% of the stories r angst/whump for Wild/Tears. Sicfic? Yes please! Nightmares? Yes please! Psychological torture? Sign me up! There was this one fic someone wrote about Wild being hit by a curse that trapped him in his memory next time he unlocked one, so he had to watch it over and over and over. The rest of the chain had to save him. Tho, if it makes u feel any better, I only like happy endings, no open ended ones, no sad ones, or character deaths. Nope. Fairy tale where they all lived happily ever after please and thank u lol. So anyway, I got sidetracked lol. My question was, would he be mad if I just put the game on the clothes menu when he’s overheating so he doesn’t lose any hearts over it, just watching him do it for a minute or two?

Sometimes I need to wear like one clothing item per outfit so I can use like 3 different abilities. For example, maybe bandana to climb faster, gloom shirt for an extra heartbreak, and snow pants bc it’s freezing? And sometimes I’ll complain that he looks ugly, well, not him, but the outfit, and say that I wish I could make him look cuter but I need these abilities atm. Does he hate the outfits like I do? Does he care more about function? Does he hate that I care so much?

How does he feel not being able to talk? Like literally every other character can talk except him. And he can’t do anything by himself. Everything he does is either a programmed animation or an action by my controller. I bet he has a lot he wants to say but can’t. Does he ever worry that if he were to get out and see me, what if he couldn’t talk to me??

🐰

yeah it's always a lot easier to think about the links you know better for stuff like this ngl, so I don't blame you for sticking to them. plus wild and tears are just fun too right? :3c

so starting from the top -

I think the fairies are a touchy subject for him, if you like the cutscenes then he can set his discomfort about being picked up and kissed somewhat - don't get me wrong he doesn't enjoy it but for your happiness he'll do it as many times as you make him (although, unless he finds a way to override the controls then it's not really like he has a choice in it) he'll make notes about how you like him acting in certain ways though - I mean if you like seeing him as a blushy mess covering his face in the game then you'll like it more when he's doing it in person right? Please don't make him recreate the level four one though.

To be honest, there's nothing that you could do to him that he could ever consider a waste of time. would he prefer you to be actively engaged? sure. Is he bothered if you're still there but just waiting for a bit for the dragon to recharge? Not really, yeah he'd prefer to be doing more, but at the same time it gives him a chance to observe and to get more of a grasp of how the game works while it's on and running compared to when he's robbed of his body and is left a being floating in a desolate void of numbers and machine code. He can relax and still have feeling and eyes on you and your eyes on him every now and then even though it's not as often as he'd like. as for the time? I think once he became aware he stopped running on hyrules time, so it's only ten minutes for him too. Ten minutes that granted feel longer than that cause of the scenery, but still only ten minutes. if it were a situation where he was still in a hyrule then he'd be further detached from anyone else. (my thoughts are if the game is left in standby on the switch then it's all still loaded and the links have free reign but if it's closed and you're playing another switch game then it tosses them into the abyss)

laughing at him for being cute is all good but please don't make fun of him ;-; he's only doing what you make him do after all!

I need to write more whump and hurt/comfort for tears actually, thanks for the reminder Well, he's not getting hurt by it -soooo he's kinda a bit deluded into thinking that it's another show of love for him. You simply love all the sounds that he's making <3 (and I don't blame you, his whimpers are actually just so adorable?????) You care so much that you're not letting him get hurt for your happiness!!!!

I think he takes it as a compliment that you care so much about how his outfits look, he wants to look his best for you too!!! If he could he'd find a way to stack the different bonuses so that you could treat him like a proper dress up doll without having to worry about the environment and how it impacts him :c he doesn't care what outfit he 'wears' cause it's not like he's actually wearing and interacting with it. it's glued to him like a second skin so whether you're keeping him shirtless or putting him in the thickest shirt possible there's no difference to him just don't mod him so that he's no longer himself please

The fact that there's a chance he wouldn't be able to communicate with you is something that he worries about alot, not even just not having a voice. He'd be fine with being mute if he can write or sign to you, hell he could probably delude himself into being fine that he couldn't do that if he could move freely and hold you. what scares him the most is the idea that he'd be like a puppet cut, that if he gets out that without the code acting as his strings he falls limp like a puppet cut loose. that's what's horrifying to him. anything else he could learn to live with, but that potential keeps him from making any rash movements where the cost could outweigh the benefits. I like to think that out of desperation, (this goes for sky in the fic too) they stole another characters voicebank from another game :) one that speaks your native tongue preferably, but at the very least one that shares a language you speak

[literaryslapshot]

coach sidney as written by taylor swift songs

to begin, she hoped sidney wouldn't think of her as some sort of slut for doing what she's doing. for hooking up to get her son on varsity, but in the midst of all that she starts to fall for him. she starts to imagine what it would be like if they were together. if other people started to talk, but she couldn't help it because it went straight to her head. she got lovesick, they were just in the wrong place at the right time she thinks. it might blow up in their faces, they might just fall in love, and if they do so what?

then it moves to a scene like i can see you. right after the infamous dinner at sidney's house where she laid it down real good so her son could get on varsity, the tension was thick between them. they had to be fast and keep quiet, both of them had imagined things to do with each other, and when sidney sent her a text in the middle of a school district fundraiser gala that said meet me tonight. he was tired of seeing other guys talk to her.

as she feels herself falling in love, he does too, it turns into both of them wanting to be end game. sidney wants to be her number one, he wants to be the first thing on her mind always. he knows they would be the cause of a lot of chatter amongst school staff, they would be a big deal and it might cause a rip in their reputation but he wouldn't care. and she doesn't want to be just another woman to sidney. they might try to just forget about the first hookup but they just couldn't. every night she thinks of his liquor colored eyes and she realizes she doesn't want to be just anything, she wants to be end game.

she realizes after a few dates and actually getting to know one another, that he is the absolute king of my heart, as she wrote in her journal one night. because she was perfectly fine living on her own, after her ex husband left her she decided it was just going to be her and carter and that it was better that way. but now, a month in, he calls her baby and he stays at her house some nights too when carter is at his friends for the night, of course. she enjoys spending nights outside under the stars, drinking beer and having innocent touches turn into lustful fistfuls of clothing and dark marks left in spaces where only he can see.

she knows people will just call it what they want after they have to tell the hr department at school they're together. she knows people will snicker, start rumors, paint scandalous pictures when they see them in the teachers lounge together. when they see him sitting next to her during warm ups before a game, or when they see the two love bird on a date out in town. but she smiles because she's the one he's walking toward, she's the one he's sitting next to. he caused flowers to grow back, she can laugh and smile more, she can have fun too. oh, and when she shows up to work one day with a 's' charm on her necklace next to the 'c' one she got for her son carter, you can guarantee that everyone is losing their minds.

she keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something drastic to happen, for the end to come, but she keeps running home to his sweet nothings to remind her that everything will be just fine. after a year of being together, sidney makes sure to have lots of time with carter too. sure he's dating her, but he wants to make sure over and over that carter is okay with it. she gets so happy to sidney bond with carter like he does, to make sure that sidney includes carter in everything he does at home. to see him in the kitchen humming, teaching carter how to use the grill, it happens all the time.

sidney makes sure to ask carter before anyone else if it's okay if he marries his mom. he takes him out to lunch and he makes sure carter knows it's okay if he doesn't want it to happen and that sidney will respect his decision. he gets his blessing, and as if she was eavesdropping that night she said she'll marry him with paper rings if he ever asked, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

[queenofallimagines]

oh good gods pls your luciferian hcs made me YELL they’re so good lmao i was side eyeing my altar and space for lucifer the WHOLE TIME

do you think you could do a part two? and if possible, nsfw? if not thats more than okay!! thank you and i hope you’re doing so good!!!

🕷️anon

Absolutely 🕷anon! AND LMAO YEAH I COULD FEEL HIM SIDE EYEING ME ACROSS THE ROOM AS I WROTE THESESGSHSJS asking the old man “why are you like this” whenever lucifer in game does something corny😭 ik he’s sick of me

Lucifer:

- Okay so since part 1 was when you arrived this will be more about day to day life in the next term

- Right off the bat I’m imagining minor petty spats that the other brothers are like…. Wtf is going on here

- Like y’all have been glaring across the table at one another for 30 mins and haven’t spoken a word

- WAY more picky w offerings lmao

- Is literally going to be super extra about it for no reason other than to bother you

- For example! When you give an offering to oshun( African orisha they’re like the HR in the heaven department just above the angel hierarchy) you have to eat a little first bc she was poisoned once so it’s like to show you’re in good faith

- Lucifer will ask you to do that w food you don’t like

- “Eat some”

- “I got this for you-“

- “And I want you to taste some😌”

- “….. do I really I have to???”

- “Are you telling me what to do w MY offering🤨”

- MAKE FUN OF HIM PLEASE ITS SO FUNNY!!

- A lot of people ( white peoples I fear😔) be talking about he only accepts blood offerings and you have to sell your soul or whatever and stuff but literally this man will be giddy over a red candle w gold glitter

- Write all your assignments in sparky pen so when he looks at them he can’t hold back a smile

- As a joke you leave crystals associated with him in his coat pockets but he will never take them out

- Congratulations you played ya self

- You doing the stuff you do for him out of habit will fluster him if you say it

- “Why are you waking up so early to get ready?”

- “Hm? For Lucifer”

- “No im not gunna drink this tea it’s an offering🙄”

- Please don’t tell his brothers he will lock himself in his office💀

- Whenever you google “what can I do for Lucifer” 9/10 the first thing will be taking care of yourself

- So when your self caring w asmo and you go “oh I do this bc Lucifer likes it”

- The house will expose in chaos

- Mammon demanding you tell him your card numbers “for him” LMAO

- They’re all super jealous

- Gotta tell em its nothing personal he’s just always been there for you

- Whew if he reached out to YOU?

- The silence in the house REAL LOUD😭

- Belphegor waking up and going “ik you fucking lying!!!”

- You’re all confused like???

- “…..you said Lucifer… reached out to YOU?”

- “??????yeah????”

- “As in… he ASKED you to work with him?”

- “Yeah, I couldn’t stop thinking about his name and he showed up on my door one day”

- Lmao belphie and mammon are the LOUDEST FR

- “YOU CHOSE A HUMAN?? MR I HATE HUMANS BECAUSE THEYRE WEAK??📸”

- OH SO THERES MORE THAN ONE FAKE BITCH IN THIS HOUSE HUH?”

- lmao he’s sitting there red faced clenching his fist like

- “Listen I can explain”

- He cannot explain😭

- Can’t even say he did it on a whim

- “He really picked me up like a wet cat lmao”

- “Mc I am literally begging you to shut the FUCK up”

- Oh maaaaan diavolo will get a Kick out of this!!

- Solomon is very salty

- “But I can’t get a pact😒😒”

- He’s literally going to double down and bother him more

- “Lucifer you never told me you were taking on disciples🥺”

- “I didn’t think it was that important lord diavolo simply to pass the time”

- Simeon is laughing but internally having the feels bc he’s like 🥹 “even after all this time you still choose to be a guardian angel”

- Will tell you embarrassing stories about him he is now super close to you

- “Lucifer being the lords favorite was also the best one at singing👀 he loved music”

- That’s tru btw lmao Lucifer was like one of the angels who liked singing the most thats what makes humans and angels so alike- love for music and dancing-

- Call him your morning star and he MELTS

- Back to why were really here😌

- Call him that during sex or when you first wake up and he’s on cloud nine

- FUCK HIM DURING GOLDEN HOUR🗣🗣

- He’s literally he rises in the morning for a reason!!

- He will deadass purpose bc imagine riding him as the sun stars peaking over the horizon

- He’s under you moaning looking up at you w the most glazed over love struck eyes

- The sun filtering through the window and hitting him juuuuuuuust right

- That it looks like he has a halo again

- Breathlessly calling your name as you grind down on him

- He barely manages to get out that he’s close before you caress some of his hair out of his face

- “Cum for me then my Morningstar”

- Time freezes for like 16 seconds and his eyes are getting teary

- He hugs you close as he starts rutting his hips into you harder

- Will cum and keep going until he’s about to pass out

- Holding you like a lifeline

- When you can finally breathe and think straight he pulls you in for a kiss

- Literally stealing your breath away

- Will say I love you in the most honest voice ever while smiling at you with teary eyes

- probably won’t stop touching you all day might as well just spend it in bed

-is embarrassed by body worship calling it now

- be HE can do that but if YOU sink to your knees behind his desk and hold eye contact he’s getting nervous

-“just showing my devout gratitude💕”

- embarrassed how fast he finishes

- if you keep doing to overstimulate him he’s putty in your hands

- this man is very soft he will crack at the slightest sign of domestic romance

- bring him coffee when he wakes up?

- he’s already selected a wedding venue

- I always thought it would be cute if he gave you his ring

- HILARIOUS IF HE DOSENT TELL YOU LMAO

- You swing by the celestial realm and it’s crickets and you’re like ??? Fuck is y’all starring at??🤨

- Simeon hums and says that nobody expected lucifer to get married much less to a human. How he was never one to put anything above his responsibilities

- Excuse me?

- “You’re wearing the right of light,yes? He doesn’t just give that to anyone dear. You two are bonded for life now🥰”

- “HELLO????”

[desswright29]

Beggin’ & Pleadin

Word Count:2.1k

Pairing: Angry/Toxic Shuri X Drunk/Toxic/Singer reader

A/N: Sooo last night. I was drinking. And when I got home I was scrolling through tik tok and was reintroduced to this song. And this is what we got! I wrote this drunkenly in 2 hrs in between 1 and 3 am soooo. Enjoy?! 🤷🏾‍♀️ lol. I’d also suggest listening to the song. Brandy did her big one!

“I know you’re fucking lying Shuri! You’re fucking that bitch!” Shuri grabs your wrist taught, pulling you into her, throwing her arms around your waist trapping your arms against your body as she pressed you against hers to stop the blows that you were trying to throw. Her mouth angrily bear down on your ear “Y/n this is not the fucking time. You drank too much again. You are reeking of alcohol.” Shuri growls into your ear, looking around the banquet hall as every eye in the building was turned towards the scene. It was taking everything inside of Shuri to conceal her anger. 

“I don’t give af! About these muthafuckas! You’re trying to play me like I’m a dummy nigga! I don’t care who you are! You’re not bout to play in my gotdamn face Shuri!” You smash down on her foot with your heel, push out of her arms and start beating at her chest.  Immediately she gets you back into her grip, not with out you two getting into a slight scuffle as you yell obscenities at her. Shuri easily gets the upper hand, tossing you over her shoulder and begins heading to the exit with you in tow as the Dora surround you both trying to block the scene unfolding in front of everyone. “Get off me! Get the fuck off of me Shuri! You lying bitch!” You scream beating on her back. Bursting through the front doors with you in tow Shuri finally places you on your feet. The rage in her eyes unmistakable as she grips your arms as hard as she could without breaking them. “WHAT. THE. FUCK. Is wrong with you!!! Who do you think your dating a fucking rapper?! This is not the HipHop Awards y/n this is a political event!”

“Move around with that ‘I’m a Queen Bullshit’! You knew who I was from the begining!! And you know I’m not on no pussy shit! So what made you believe you could sit in my face with one of yo’ hoes Shuri!” Shuri allowed an incredulous snicker to escape her mouth.

“BAST! I’m so sick of this shi-“ Taking a deep breath she calms herself to the best of her ability. “You know what you’re right. I was of aware of your background, but I was also under the impression that you were a grown ass woman capable of controlling your emotions and having adult conversations but you know obviously I was wrong about that!” Shuri threw up her hands in exasperation.

“My Queen, I don’t believe this is the place to have this conversation. The crowds are starting circulate again.” Aneeka interupts. Shuri looks around and people have begun to file out of the building onto the steps to see the drama unfold. She groans from the back of her throat, running a hand down her face. “Come on.” She says reaching for your wrist again you pull back again. “NO! Fuck that! I’m not going no where until you answer me!” Shuri turns away, chuckling in pure pisstivity. Thumb flicking the tip of her nose. “I’m loosing patience Sthandwa. We can talk about this at home. I’ll tell you all you need to know.” Her finale attempt at being rationale with you once again went ignored.

“Tuh! I don’t give a FUCK about you loosing patience Nigga! You gon’ tell me what I need to know now!” Shuri bit the inside of her cheeks, followed by a hard bite to her bottom lip, her limit finally reached. Stepping into your face brows creased and face intense with anger, she snaps. “You want to do this shit now?” 

“Yea! Let’s do it!” You challenge.

“Ok we’re doing it!”

“Bet!”

“Bet! Who im fucking will no longer be your concern because I’m done with this childish bullshit!” She spat in your face. Your lips turn up in amusement and disbelief.

“You’re done?”

“Done y/n! So done that you can walk your stupid ass to where ever the fuck you’re going because it’ will not be to my place of residence. I’m tired of this drunken insecure fuck shit you pull every other week! So you can get the fuck out of my face.” Your eyes grew wide with shock knowing you’d went to far this time, but never one to back down from a fight.

“Oh Nigga! You got the right bitch!” You laugh sinisterly. “You can keep this shit!” You take your engagement ring off and throw it at her. “Take that shit and give it to one of them other bitches. It’s niggas dreaming about gettin this pussy. And you just opened the flood gates baby!”

Shuri nods and turns away heading to the car. 

“FUCK YOU SHURI!” She gets into the car without another glance in your direction and her and the Queens court pull off, leaving you outside on the steps of the banquet hall. You turn around to see people gawking at you.

“The fuck are y’all lookin�� at!” You hike up your dress and begin walking.

————————————————————————

A week had passed since the incident. Luckily because of the exclusivity of the function you and Shuri were attending your falling out was purely hearsay. Only being spread around by unverified sources. But after sobering up. Regret fell heavy on your chest. You’d been trying to reach Shuri for days with no luck. You were layed up in a hotel and though it was nice, it wasn’t home. So now you were headed back to were you belonged. You made your way up to the doors of the palace only for the Dora to block you from entering. 

“We’ve been informed by the Queen not to allow you entry into the palace.” Your neck snapped back as you stared them down. 

“She can go somewhere with that shit. My stuff is in there.” 

“The Queen, says once you have a secure address she will be glad to send you your things.” You laugh out loud. “Get the fuck out of here! Call her and let her know I’m here for my shit! Since she want me gone so bad. GIVE ME MY SHIT Shuri!” The sound of the Dora’s staffs banging against the ground pounded in your chest. “Ms. Y/l/n, we will ask you one more time to remove yourself from the premises or you will be removed.” You scoff.

“I can’t believe this shit. It’s cool, y’all ain’t gotta do all that. I’ll leave.” You turn and walk away embarrassed and feeling bottom of the barrel.

——————-

Rumor had it that Shuri was wilding. Out in the clubs with women flocking to her side. Willing and waiting to get a piece of the Queen. Tonight it was said she had one of the hottest clubs in Wakanda shut down for a party and you were determined to be present. Putting on your sexiest dress a gold metallic low back dress that hung off of your glistening body like a cloth. Leaving nothing to the imagination. 

Surprisingly, getting into the club was easy. The only requirement being to be the baddest of the bad. Once inside you walked over to the bar and ordered a rum and coke and began scanning the crowd looking for her. When suddenly there is commotion at the door. The women flocked to Shuri like moths to a flame as her sexy stride led her to a conversation pit like V.I.P section in the center of the club. You watched as women threw themselves at her as you angrily threw back drink after drink. 

When a woman slinked her way over to Shuri sinking into her lap, your body got hot all over. And when she began grinding up against her and Shuri’s hands gripped her ass keeping her pressed against her crotch you’d had enough. You downed the last of your drink and stumbled off of your stool making your way through the crowd to the VIP section. Once again you were stopped short of getting through to her. 

“She’s my fucking fiancé, I can talk to her if I want!” You slurred to the guard blocking off the section. “Hm. Drunk again my dear? If my memory serves me correctly you threw my ring. Told me to “keep that shit” remember? Now I’m holding auditions for your position.” Shuri eyes the woman in her lap as the woman laid her head on Shuri’s shoulder. “I think I may have found a winner.” Shuri licked her lips and sent a sly smirk you way. 

“Ok Shuri! What the fuck you want me to say. I’m sorry?! I’m sorry ok! Stop tripping. I want to come home!” Shuri giggled. “Idk. I didn’t like that one. That didn’t feel hmmm apologetic enough for me.” She said tapping her chin with her pointer finger. With that you stormed away stumbling through the crowd. Behind you you could hear laughter from the women in the section. 

———————————

A little time passed when suddenly the lights on the stage flashed on and the club went silent. The sound of your heels clicked against the stage floor as you slightly stumbled up to mic stand. Your eyes connected with Shuri’s as her eyes pierced through you from her section. You slowly lift your arm and signal the band with a snap, the guitar sounds.

Damn girl, why you make it so hard?

Stop puttin' your foot on my heart

I know I did my wrong, I know I did my dirt

Didn't know how bad I would hurt

Told you, "Walk out that door, and you can keep your last name"

Now I'm down on my knees, it's a shame

I'm beggin' and pleadin'

Shuri leaned forward elbows to knees one eyebrow raised as she tuned in to your performance. 

Forgive me!!!

You take the mic stand in both of your hands.

Squeezing as you close your eyes singing with all of your heart.

I'm beggin' and pleadin'

Forgive me!!!

Told you, "Walk out that door, and you can keep your last name"

Now I'm down on my knees, it's a shame

Good God almighty

Kicking the bottom of the mic stand. You tip it over to the left and catch it in a lunge just in time to start the next verse. 

Damn girl, why you make it so hard?

Stop puttin' your foot on my heart

Know I cussed and I screamed, even took your keys

You drag the mic stand around the stage forgetting you could remove the mic. Ridiculously intoxicated. 

Got so bad, yeah I stopped wearin' my ring

Told you, "Walk out that door, and you can keep your last name"

Now I'm down on my knees, it's a shame

I'm beggin' and pleadin'

FORGIVE ME!!!

Finally, you snatched the mic from the stand as you continued to sing the chorus bending down on one knee. Looking out into the audience seeing the women still surrounding your fiancé pissed you off. You stood too your feet and began to slowly descend the stairs keeping full eye contact with Shuri.

Wave me back

All them bitches won't love you like I do, wave me back

You wave your arms around at the women in the area. Pushing a few out of the way. 

I got a couple niggas that I can call

Wave me back, wave me back

Yeah I'm hopin' and wishin', every night and day

Waaaave me back, Ahhh wave me back

I’m beggin’ and pleadin’

This time when you made your way to Shuri’s section there was no issue getting through to her. She now sat manspread leaned back against the plush couch one arm tossed on the back of the couch while the other lie lazily across her lap. She watched you intently as you made your way to her. Begging through your song. 

I'm beggin' and pleadin'

Beggin' and pleadin', hopin' and wishin' for a change

Forgive me!!!

Beggin' and pleadin', hopin' and wishin' for a change

Ooooohooo I'm beggin' and pleadin'

Beggin' and pleadin', hopin' and wishin' for a change

Forgive me!!!

Beggin' and pleadin', hopin' and wishin' for a change

Making it in front of Shuri. You fall to you knees inbetween her legs. Dragging your mic-less hand from her knee all the way up her thigh. Until you could feel the heat of her core.

Told you, "Walk out that door, and you can keep your last name"

Now I'm down on my knees, it's a shame

Good God almighty

Your head fell into her lap as you finished singing and the band continued to play and a backup singer continued with your “Good God almighty’s” Shuri took her hand that was draped across her lap and took your chin between her pointer finger and thumb, lifting your head so that you could look her in the eye. A smirk spread across her face as she places her bottom lip between her teeth. She lightly taps your cheek twice and says..

“Good girl.”

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AG IN BIO DNI

Chapter 34

tags: @illiana-mystery, @eroticaplush, @onedirectionlovers2014

Warnings: swearing, HR, mention of smut (not our favorite couple surprisingly)

“I can’t believe you couldn’t get us out of this.” I groaned as Dan and I walked into the courtroom. “I mean it’s so absurd we have to be here on a Saturday.” Dan laughed and squeezed my shoulder. I curled into him more and turned into him.

“oh I know you’re not even awake when you start quoting the breakfast club.” He teased. “Although I’m surprised you didn’t quote bender.” I halfheartedly hit his chest.

“Eat my shorts and shut up.” I mumbled, smiling at him.

“and there we go.” Dan laughed. We sat down as the HR guy finally showed up.

“Dan be nice.” Abbie said as the HR guy passed around name tags. “Jake is just here to do a quick HR training and then you all can leave.”

“nice?” Dan scoffed. “That ship has sailed, sunk and not been found for 30 years.” I giggled and wrote my name on the tag before doing the same for Dan. He looked down as I stuck it to his chest, smiling at me softly. Abbie looked at him with a smirk. Dan frowned when he noticed and walked away, holding my hand the whole time. “Oh shut up.” He complained as went to sit down. We positioned our chairs as close to each other as we could and Jake gave us a look.

“now what would you say to someone who wants to talk to you about a personal problem?” Jake asked.

“I would give them time so we could sit down and figure out whatever was going on.” Abbie said. Jake frowned.

“that’s one way to do it. Anyone else?” He asked. Dan shrugged.

“I’d fake a heart attack.” My head snapped over to him and Dan shrugged again. “And when I came back and they asked how I was doing I’d fake another one.” Dan gave me a tight smile. “Except for this one. I actually talk to them.”

“with the one person exception aside, dans actually…kind of right.” Jake said. I raised an eyebrow at Dan and shook my head. “It seems like there’s some kind of hostility in the room. What’s going on?”

“we’ll ever since the judge suggested we move in together, things have been a bit rough.” Gurgs said. Olivia and gurgs explained their situation as Jake stared at Abbie in shock. Meanwhile I was staring dan down.

“oh you know I will do anything to get out of a conversation.” Dan said.

“yeah but considering you’ve had a heart attack I don’t like the idea of you even faking one.” I said. Dan paused and nodded.

“alright. Yeah. I understand that.” He said. “I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry.” I nodded and turned to see Jake looking at us.

“sorry. What did we miss?” I asked.

“you two are married?” He asked. “And started a relationship here?” I nodded.

“Yeah. Hence the double fielding on your list.” Dan said. I raised an eyebrow at Jake.

“There a problem there?” I asked. Jake nodded.

“The two of you shouldn’t be working together at this point. Even after all the paper work was done, there should have been a separation from work.” He explained. Dan and I looked at each other, worry clear on our faces.

“I filed to keep them both on the same shift.” Abbie explained. “Their relationship didn’t and doesn’t affect their work.”

“still…” Jake said.

“hold on are you telling me we’re going to have to…what?” Dan said. “Either break up or change our hours?” Jake nodded.

“we could get the two of you into different courtrooms on the same shift.” Jake offered.

“hold on hold on.” Abbie said. “Let’s talk in my office.” Jake got up to follow her, arguing the entire time.

“you all are dismissed by the way.” He said before leaving the room.

“Dan…” I said. He grabbed my hand and led me down to the car. “What are we going to do?” Dan hugged me before we got into the car.

“I don’t know. Abbie will figure something out.” He whispered. “Until then, we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing.” I nodded as we headed home. The next day, we headed back to work. Jake was sitting in the gallery again and I turned to Dan. He squeezed my hand and we went to work.

“don’t worry.” Abbie assured me. “As far as I know it has gotten fixed. Paperwork is up to date and down at city hall they are all on board with the two of you continuing to work together in this court.”

“good.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “So why is Jake here?” I asked. Abbie sighed.

“because apparently I fucked up the HR training.” She admitted. I squeezed her shoulder and headed over to wyatts desk. Right before break, Wyatt nodded at Dan.

“So Dan isn’t there something you wanted to say?” Wyatt prompted. Dan nodded and hit the gate. A barbershop quartet led by Flobert stood up.

“it’s been a long time coming and you really deserved better so here’s making up for running off and eloping. Your sweetheart Dan really just has one question to ask and he really hopes you say yes. So without further ado…” they sang. I looked between them and Dan, watching him get down on one knee. I gasped and covered my mouth.

“I told you I’d make up for it.” He said with a smile. “So (Y/N) Fielding, will you marry me? Properly.” I laughed and nodded.

“yes!” I said. “Hell yes!” Dan got up and we met in the middle of the courtroom. He hugged me tightly and kissed my temple. Everyone in the courtroom started clapping and I saw our parents sitting behind Jake. “Oh god. Our parents are here.” I laughed as Dan turned around, keeping his arm around me as our parents made their way over.

“yep.” He said, smiling at them. “I asked them too. I wanted to do this last week but mama and daddy weren’t able to get out here. I wanted them here when I asked properly. And I knew your mother would kill me if I didn’t ask her to be here.” I laughed and nodded.

“that’s true.” I confirmed before breaking away to hug my parents. We all headed to the cafeteria to celebrate.

“so what are you two going to do?” My mom asked.

“what do you mean?” I asked, pulling my attention away from Dan entangling his fingers with mine.

“I think what she’s trying to say is what are you two going to do with the wedding.” Dans mom said. “I’m sure it’s going to be better planned than the last one.” Dan and I blushed.

“mama.” Dan complained. “We’ve been over this. We were overcome with love and we couldn’t wait any longer.” I giggled at his embarrassment. His mom winked at me when he buried his head in his hands.

“We know dear.” Dans dad said. “She’s just giving you two a hard time.”

“it’s going to take a lot longer to plan than the last one. That’s for sure.” My dad said. “And you’ll have more time to get rings.”

“No.” Dan and I said at the same time. Everyone looked at us surprised.

“Sorry. It’s just we’re pretty attached to these.” I explained, looking at Dan. He nodded.

“they’re engraved. And pretty special to us.” Dan said, holding my hand and running his thumb over the ring.

“we picked them out for each other in New Orleans.” I looked at Dan and smiled softly. “Tried to hide the engravings from each other honestly. It didn’t work but they are part of our story. And we don’t want to change our story too much.” My parents looked at each other and smiled. Dans parents nodded.

“we should go talk to Abbie.” Dan said. I nodded and we got up. Everyone looked at us confused.

“She was planning a wedding not long ago.” I explained. “She might still have some of the books and what not.” With a promise to meet up for dinner soon, Dan and I headed towards Abbie’s office. Wyatt stopped us before we could go down the hall.

“you don’t want to go down there.” He warned us. “Abbie and Jake are getting it on in her office.” Dan looked proud while I raised an eyebrow at the news.

“thank you Wyatt.” Dan said before taking my hand and leading us back to the cafeteria. “Well I guess we can have that family dinner tonight.”

[redgoldblue]

hellooo. for the fic asks: 8, 16 (to be mean back, affectionately), 20, 38!

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Well, okay, I was originally thinking of a bit in I Would Break Into Your House (the dialogue immediately around the kiss in v. including "This is an intervention for your brain, not my dick.", or possibly the bit after Danny finds the grenade in iv.), but I reread the first part of the almost-finished Muncle wip today. and as stated on a previous reblog i miss Napoleon and Illya. and the major reason I like this part is that I do think it really sounds like both of them, and despite having written so much of them for last year's advent calendar, I'm still having to work to make sure I capture their voices exactly right. But I think I got them here, including Illya's understated yet campy dry snark and Napoleon's equally campy chronic unbotheredness.

(Jeanne is another agent Napoleon slept with the night before)

“Not up to your standards, my friend?” Illya asks, dropping his bag onto the nearest of the single beds. “Oh, my standards aren’t that high. Just thinking it wouldn’t be up to Jeanne’s.” “Ah, no. I can imagine many things wouldn’t be.” The look Napoleon gives him is definitely amused, a wry dart from under his eyelashes. “Didn’t take a liking to our Agent Voix?” “Am I not allowed my little foibles?” “You’re allowed as large a foible as you’d like,” Napoleon tells him, patting him on the shoulder as he passes. Sitting on his own bed, he adds, “I certainly have enough.” “We are discussing one of them,” Illya agrees.

16. If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

I mean... I think I have the same answer as you actually. it is mean bc I write for so goddamn many pairings, and I love writing for all of them both separately and for the internal variety. But in the end I think I'd have to pick Steve/Danny, on historical evidence alone (the 22 in brackets after Hawaii Five-0 on my AO3 dashboard, 7 more than the next fandom down, which is one I've been writing in for... four years longer. only four years longer? god H50's been with me for a long time.)

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Ooh. there's a few elements - music, moving vehicles, rain, liminal spaces/times, a certain state of tiredness where I've just gotten the perfect ability to like, zone into hyperfocus without actively getting sleepy, which is usually associated with having woken up early but not having had to do anything particularly mentally strenuous. They all came to a head in my ideal writing condition one (1) time in my life, which was getting the train from Melbourne to Sydney (a 12-hr ride) by myself, which meant leaving at 7-something am, after a brief vacation and a friend's wedding. Unfortunately I actually had to also be studying for an exam at the time, but I did get some writing in. I'm contemplating whether I can work things so I can repeat it in the opposite direction next month when this term ends (post-exams this time).

38. Talk about a review that made your day.

There is one I still have screenshotted on my desktop from two years ago, so I have to mention it. It's Starsky & Hutch fandom, which is relevant a) bc of course it is, it's the nicest most supportive most receptive fandom on earth and b) bc it's such an old fandom that comments from people you know have been in it for decades always have that extra sheen to them, y'know? And I'm sure I probably actually know who she is but I haven't managed to match username to real person but it's such a nice comment. Self-confessedly gushing about how much she loved it, which is the best type of comment. Also it was on Come Take The Wheel, one of those >10k fics I wrote entirely without deadlines, a fact that always seems vaguely miraculous to me.

fic writer asks!

[blaaaaask]

I tried out one of those personality quizzes and got INTJ-T.

Didn't even realize they had that extra letter.

Anyone else take one of these and you're like 'Well, that certainly explains a lot.'

Quote from the website:

Some personality types are drawn to jobs that require nonstop teamwork and interaction, but INTJs tend to prefer positions that offer independence. By working alone or in small groups, they can make the most of their creativity without constant interruptions from curious coworkers or second-guessing supervisors. They really do believe that if they want something done right, they’d better do it themselves.

End quote.

So, this leads me to a kind of funny story. I quit my desk job about a year ago because they wanted to change remote workers(3+ years) to "hybrid" (aka, slowly change us from our remote positions to in-office for X amount of days. I'm not stupid, I know eventually this would lead to going back to full time in-office. This is just them slowly boiling the frog.)

I, of course, resisted. Sent emails, had meetings, jumped through 100 different hoops. It was literally causing me so much stress that my doctor was trying to recommend anxiety meds (please note, the anxiety was not there until this stupid debacle happened?) I would write/tell HR endless reasons why I could not return to in-office working any longer (pre COVID times), but each person I had to talk to never read half the crap I wrote. And they kept saying 'well, would it be fair though?' Which, I pointed this out, that there were numerous people in various departments who were men who were within similar driving distances as myself who were staying remote and were not being questioned. But I, as a female, and all the female coworkers I had talked to, were facing the same requests.

I didn't want to be 'that girl' that pointed things like that out, but uh, it felt like a glaring oversight.

My department head had also just changed, and instead of having a boss who was eager to help me (he said as long as you're working, do whatever works.) New boss was like 'you need to follow the rules, I am not going to support you.'

So, with the issue sitting before me of 'do I follow their rules just because it pays well?' or 'do I leave, and pursue something I love?'

I quit.

I put in two weeks, which was hellish but freeing.

I have not looked back. My department was ultra small, so it felt sad to drop the ball on them like that, but I am not to be fucked around with. And I have put everything into my art here, my writing, and trying to build my own income. It is going slow (as in, I am making nothing right now) but what can I say? I absolutely love what I'm doing now.

Will I need to go back into reality at some point and get another job? It's possible.

Am I going to keep trucking away otherwise? You bet.

Moral of the story: Fuck those fucking fuckers, hahaha. But seriously, if you have found a means to work in an environment that works for you, do NOT feel like you have to change it!!

As I told them in my emails: if you're getting into gardening, and you have multitude of plants with varying needs, you tend to them following those instructions. Some need direct light. Some need dark spaces. Some like it hot. Some like it cold. You cannot uproot all your plants and put it into one box because 'it is easier to water that way.' You will kill off some of your most unique plants this way. You will end up with all of the same plants.

Also just random tldr: Fuck office jobs. And office culture.

Okay thanks for reading my rant. :)

[epersonae]

The Cooking Project: Yakitori-don

The next card in the stack was a recipe from a friend who I believe lived in Japan for a year. She shared it in Slack, and I wrote it down on a card because free Slack instances have limited history availability. (there will be another recipe later, I think, with a similar origin) I don't know exactly how long ago I wrote it down (2 or 3 years ago, probably), and I've never made it.

Summary: pretty good, would make again with a couple of mods. Unfortunately, there will be a long digression into rice cooking first.

Recipe text, transcribed

Yakitori-don (from Amanda C.)

2-4 chicken breasts 1 c soy sauce 1/2 c sugar 1 tsp garlic salt 1 onion, chopped

all into crock pot on low, 8 hrs [arrow leads to a notes that says try instant for 10 min & quick release] shred chicken, stir back into sauce serve over Nishiki (?) rice

[Nishiki rice, when I looked it up, turns out to be a medium grain white rice similar to Calrose. we'll get to Problems With Rice next]

Things that happen when you move while Trauma, or: Problems With Rice

So my favorite way to make rice, not owning a rice cooker, is with an instant pot. As it happens, I own two of them, because Ryn brought one when they moved out here. Which, I thought: perfect! One for the chicken and one for the rice.

Except, as it turns out, Ryn's rice cooker has a detachable cord. Which was detached at some point presumably in August or September 2021, and is........ SOMEWHERE. Is that somewhere in the box, which is probably in the garage? Is it in another shelf in the kitchen behind a bunch of stuff? Is it in the landfill? I have no idea (yet).

[the Instant Pot that betrayed me]

Which means there was only one instant pot, which is a lot less fun than there was only one bed.

I didn't buy medium grain white rice for this recipe, because I had long grain on hand, and, eh. But that means that my rice is in a container and does not have cooking instructions. So I opened up my trusty copy of How to Cook Everything Vegetarian, which I think I got as a Christmas present like 10 years ago, on the assumption that it would have the usual X rice to Y water for Z time formula that one might find on the back of a bag of rice. Instead, he suggests a method that is "Far easier and more reliable [...] which will work well for any kind of white rice at all" that involves a lot of watching and fiddling with the heat. (which on a gas stove can be quite tricky!) Without getting too deep into it:

I think it might have been cooked properly at the bottom, but the top was almost entirely uncooked. So I started over using his microwave method, which was fine (slightly undercooked) but also got wet starch all over the inside of my microwave. Do not recommend.

tl;dr: If I can't find the power cord for that instant pot, I will probably be buying a rice cooker.

Ok, but how was the chicken?

My one mod in prepping is my standard: I hate the texture of onion, cooked or raw, and at some point I discovered that grating an onion gets the umami of it without the texture. So I did that.

Dumped everything in the instant pot (two chicken breasts, btw), stirred it around a bit, and then set it for ...

Possibly 8 minutes, because I was distracted by all the rice shenanigans, and was just glancing at the card when I set the timer, and uh, may have read the number next to "crock pot" instead of the number next to "instant".

In any case, I did that, set it for 5 minutes before releasing (because that matched the time the microwaved rice needed to sit), and shredded, then let that sit for a little bit while I did a few other things in the kitchen.

[none of the photos I took are particularly good or interesting, tbh]

Final thoughts

It was: fine. I think I just don't really like chicken breast very much; the whole thing definitely needed a fat of some kind to be properly satisfying. But also, it's hard to go wrong with soy sauce and sugar and garlic and onion. I will say that I think cooking the onion raw in liquid made the house smell weird.

It was a decent dinner, made just enough to have leftovers for lunch today. Mostly I wish I'd had some snow peas or something, tho.

I will probably make it again with the following modifications: chicken thighs instead of breast, and either onion powder or saute the onion first for a little better onion flavor (slash less-weird house smell).

If I were being ✨ fancy ✨, I'd reduce the sauce a bit, maybe with a little cornstarch, and I can see where this is probably a big difference between crock pot (which I don't own) and instant pot.

All of that contingent on actually being able to make good rice, though.

[harleiquina]

I think this resonates a lot mostly with those of us that want/are trying to become artists in any field but society tells us "you need a serious job".

I'm 32 and... hold yourself... I'm making about US$800/per month. For living in Argentina is more than enough, but still feels very little considering all the things I can do and I'm giving up to do my 5 or 6 hours of daily work.

I love writing since I'm 13. I kinda wrote an awfully written book at my 18s. I have over 20 projects going on in my head and anything can spark a new one in any time. But I haven't written any new words in my novel for almost two years now. I did scribbled new ideas here and there by hand on a notepad I keep next to me on my desk while I work... but, by the life of me I can't sit down on my computer for more time that the one that I need. All I do is sitting down in the computer and it is taking a physical toll (yes, lots of weight gain and I'm pretty sure about a low level of depression as well).

All I do is sleeping, eating and working. I don't even have the weekends for myself because on Saturdays I do volunteer work in the Russian Community Club where I learn that language and Sundays are the days where I visit my aunt (she completely isolated herself from the rest of the family and is getting deep down on the wrong side of a religious craze... but that is a different can of worms).

I am the sole breadwinner at home because I live with mom and my other aunt, both above their 50s and in here it is impossible to get hired at that age. Damn it was impossible for me to get hired at my 20s!

I started off working as an Over the Phone Interpreter for 8 hours a day... then switched companies and I was forced to do less hours (6) due to the lack of call volume, both companies paid me US$4/hr so I would make about US$460 to $600 per month -depending on me doing OT or not-. Now I switched again to a company that pays me US$7.50 and in this month I should get about $800 for all the hours I put (they have a system where I get to claim hours from a website where all interpreters claim them at the same time, so I get what I can, usually 5hrs per day).

Mom does say "do as much as you can, anything counts" bacause she got used to work about 10 to 16 hours a day at Walmart and when I complain about my job both her and my aunt are like "but you don't have to commute, you only work a few hours" and such... they can't see that it is killing me but I grind my teeth because we all rely on it. Long before I got this job, about 2 years after my graduation mom told me "you need to find a job, I don't want you to get lazy. Both you and your aunt studied stuff that, yes, its nice but worthless" (my aunt studies Anthropology)... not only I was heartbroken for hearing her say that but... I studied freaking Advertising! I would've studied Cinema... by far I liked it more but thought that Advertising was going to get me a job quicker! And I would've gotten a job quicker if I wasn't taught to respect myself and not to become a boot-licker!

I am tired... yes, even with 6hrs a day of work. Being a glorified bilingual parrot is hard... staring at the screen and take notes about everything is terrible... to lock myself in a room, away from any noise and any human interaction is soul-crushing.

I'd love to write "properly" again, to be able to read a book (last one I've read was back in 2016 when my gandfather was at the hospital), to paint or decorate anything in a day as I used to instead of dragging a project off until "I have time to finish it".

But all of it is "doing nothing" because it doesn't give me money... and the worst of all is that I know that I could do something to make money out of it but I need time to do it and I don't have it and if I do... I'm just too tired.

actually for fusies, let’s make it a poll

original post for context:

[douchebagbrainwaves]

I WOULD SPEND ALMOST EVERY WAKING MOMENT EITHER WORKING OR THINKING ABOUT OUR STARTUP

There is one other language still surviving from the 1950s, Fortran, and it is a standard, I won't get in trouble for using it. By the time the acquirer gets them, they're finishing one another's sentences. The acquirers already have brand recognition and HR departments. He thought for a second, and said ok. The term macro does not mean you aren't doing something meaningful, defensible, or valuable. For good and bad technology. There might be 500 startups right now who think they're making something Microsoft might buy. Symbols are effectively pointers. I've read that the same task could be painful to one person and pleasant to another, but are so caught up in their squabble they don't realize it.

We were after the C programmers. But it's all based on one unspoken assumption, and that employers are just proxies for users in which risk is pooled. He thought for a second, and said ok. After a while, most people in rich countries do. Maybe they'll listen to one of the most important quality would be intelligence. You should lean more toward firing people if the source of your trouble is overhiring. But because he doesn't understand the risks, he tends to magnify them. And isn't popularity to some extent its own justification?

It was both a negative and a positive surprise: they were surprised both by the degree to which persistence alone was able to dissolve obstacles: If you pitch your idea to a random person, 95% of the investors we dealt with were unprofessional, didn't seem to be a job. I'm not sure why. An experienced CFO I know said flatly: I would not want to be a total slacker. Why should they wait for VCs to make the cover something you can tell a book by its cover originated in the times when books were sold in plain cardboard covers, to be bound by each purchaser according to his own taste. Given this dichotomy, which of the two paths should you take? This is the kind of possibility that the pointy-haired boss miraculously combines two qualities that are common by themselves, but rarely seen together: a he knows nothing whatsoever about technology, you start to get the wrong answers. If you define a language that talks down to them. A lot of founders that was the big surprise: How hard it is to live in the future. I wrote this for Forbes, who asked me to write something about the qualities we look for in founders.

When you're starting a startup was the value of safe jobs. And usually the acquirer doesn't need anyway. Gone is the awkward nervous energy fueled by the desperate need to not fail guiding our actions. You only need other people to use a language for which he can easily hire programmers? And in accounting that's probably a good idea. Here's a typical reponse: You haven't seen someone's true colors unless you've worked with them on a startup. Why do the founders always make things so complicated?

Don't sit here making up a name for the phenomenon, Greenspun's Tenth Rule: Any sufficiently complicated C or Fortran program contains an ad hoc informally-specified bug-ridden slow implementation of half of Common Lisp. The immense value of the peer group of YC companies, and facing similar obstacles at similar times. If you're small, they don't think it takes years to learn how to make things people want. Suits, who don't know one language from another, and work well together. The company is ultimately doomed. So you can test equality by comparing a pointer, instead of comparing each character. Startups are a comparatively new phenomenon. Refuting the Central Point. Are you kidding? I wonder if these patterns are not sometimes evidence of case c, the human compiler, at work.

What is going on here? You probably didn't have much choice about the secondary schools you went to. There are plenty of undergrads with enough technical skill. After a while, if you could get all three for nothing. These are smart people; if the technology was good, they'd have used it voluntarily. The route to success is to get. Buying larval startups solves that problem for them: the acquirer doesn't pay till the developers have proven themselves. If languages are all equivalent, why should the developers of Java have even bothered to create a named function to return.

There's no rush. Running a startup is not like having a job or being a student, because it would cause the founders' attitudes toward risk tend to be such outliers that your conscious mind would reject them as ideas for companies. And more to the point, nobody knows you're 22. Average age of their founders: 24. There's a shocking amount of shear stress at every point where a startup touches a more bureaucratic organization, like a detective solving a case in a mystery novel. Most programming probably consists of writing little glue programs, and for little glue programs in Lisp too I use it as a desktop calculator, but the people who created it as well. There is a positive side to thinking longer-term. Business guys probably aren't, but hackers are used to a world where skill is paramount, and you don't have significant success to cheer you up, it wears you out: Your most basic advice to founders is just don't die, but the people who have them happier. If you're thinking about getting involved with someone—as a cofounder, an employee, an investor, or an acquirer—and you have misgivings about them, trust your gut. If I haven't, let me clarify that I'm not writing here about Java which I have thought about a lot.

To benefit from engaging with users you have to create a data structure to hold the value of 20 year olds. I try to think How can I write this such that if people saw my code, they'd be happy to take VC money and bet the rest on a bigger outcome. These quotes about luck are not from founders whose startups failed. Morally, they care about getting the big questions right, but not in the middle who see how important luck is. So Dad, there's this company called Apple. The catch is that phrase over time. Most readers can tell the difference between mere name-calling and a carefully reasoned refutation, but I think it will be that bad. But because he doesn't understand the risks, he tends to magnify them.