#they've been MAILING ME too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deerboybreeder · 3 months ago

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LONG fucking fantasy below the cut whoops. Tw for rape, drugging and stalking ♥️

I move to a small town in the middle of nowhere to completely restart my life. The community is small and tight knit, but thankfully extremely accepting, so me being trans is a non issue! Or at least, people have the decency to not say anything about it to my face. I feel welcomed in this town, though I spend a lot of my time improving the patch of land I moved onto and less talking to residents, even though I've met nearly everyone.

I start getting letters in the mail, complimenting me in sweet, flowery language. It makes me feel special, but there's no return address, so I can't write back. But over time, the letters get more possessive. Once, the letter describes my body fairly graphically, in all the most complimenting ways, but it's clear they saw me working shirtless in my garden, tits free to the wind. My land is huge and fenced in, someone would have to have jumped my fence and gotten very close without my noticing to see me doing that.

I start spending a little less time at home and more time in town, hoping to make some connections to keep my mind off my "secret admirer", who started recently describing how beautiful and motherly of a man I would make swollen with his baby. I don't tell anyone about it, embarrassed by the content, and the fact that despite the obvious escalation, it makes me wet to think about all this attention. I'm not beloved by the town, but I make a few good friends.

One day, a year to the day I moved into town, a package shows up at my door. Its from my secret admirer, a very small bottle of wine with a letter attached. Praising all my accomplishments this year, in detail, in order. Singing my praises and wishing for even more in the upcoming year. Against my better judgement, I accept, and take the wine inside.

I generally am a lightweight when it comes to alcohol- I learned that recently, out with friends at the local bar. One had bought me a drink and I needed help home afterwards, and the friend that bought me the round felt so badly about my state he walked me home himself. But I had nothing else to do that day, so I poured myself a glass anyway.

I don't drink often, so I didn't recognize right away that something was wrong. Didn't notice that I was fading in and out of consciousness on the couch until one moment I was watching a documentary on wilderness survival, and the next it was about space travel. My body was heavy, I could barely move, so the couch would have to do that night.

I almost chalked it up to overindulgence when my front door opened.

It was a small town- I had no reason to lock my door. Even my secret admirer hadn't made mention of wanting to break in, just lamented that they couldn't work up the courage to approach me first. But apparently, this was how they chose to do it.

I yelled, a slurred and disoriented thing. Time was runny, and I didn't even have time to process running before they were on me. A mask, sunglasses and a ball cap obscured my attackers face, hair seeming meticulously tucked into the cap to further obscure their identity.

I tried to struggle, but I'm small and they're much bigger- not to mention the wine that I realize must've been drugged. They shush me, clearly altering their voice so I wouldn't know who they are- small town, after all.

They pull up my shirt, tangling me in it and covering my face so I can't see them. Everything is running together, and at some point they've taken my pants off too, Im lying naked before them. Everything narrows down to sensations that run together. A mouth sucking on my nipple, my attackers hands running reverently down my body. They're murmuring words I can't understand because my head is swimming from the spiked drink. Their fingers find my wet and waiting slit, and they thumb over my tdick, and despite myself I make a strangled noise.

Then, I am aware of their cock at my entrance, and I get another burst of fighting, but it's useless. They shush me, kissing the side of my face through the fabric of the shirt around my face, and promise to be gentle as they push themself into my dripping cunt. They moan openly into my ear, muffled by the shirt, and start playing with my tits while they rape me.

Everything is blurry, I keep slipping in and out of consciousness, only to wake up and find that they're still fucking me. They whisper praises, saying they wish they'd done this a year ago when I first moved in, how much of a tease I was working in my garden shirtless or changing in front of the window. How we were going to be so happy together, how excited they were to realize I had a womb they could fill. How they'd start with one, but they knew I would look heavenly round and heavy with their baby for the rest of my life.

I don't know how much time passed, them using my pliant body like a cocksleeve. They were mostly true about being gentle, aside from the bruising on my hips where they held me down. They came against my waiting cervix at least once, but it all ran together for me. After cumming inside me, they gently rubbed my stomach over my womb, scratching the trail of dark hair that sprouted over the year taking testosterone.

I wanted to cry, but they stayed inside me growing soft for a while, gently fondling me or kissing my body. Eventually, I blacked out entirely.

The next morning I couldn't pretend it was a dream- I was left tangled up in my clothes, though a blanket from my room was draped over me and my TV turned off. My cunt was sore and I had the world's worst hangover. I stumbled to the shower and tried not to throw up.

I didn't want to be alone, so after my chickens were fed I went down to the friends house who helped me home that night. He had been so kind, and we'd started getting close. He had even dismissed a mutual friend making a joke about taking advantage of me the night he helped me home- he'd just helped me to my bed and left. I could trust him.

He knew something was off the moment he saw me, and ushered me inside. He got me water from his fridge, and sat down with me to let me talk.

I told him everything. First about the rape that night, then elaborating to the stalker in tears. He looked horrified, and let me sob in his arms. He was so kind to me, so good to me. I told him I didn't want to be alone. He offered to move in with me for a little while, to make sure nothing else happened. I agreed immediately, and he started packing up his things right that second.

His time spent moved in was nice. I got up early for my chickens and garden, but somehow he was always up earlier, making me coffee and breakfast. Some days he even watered my plants for me, just to be kind. He was sweet, always there to support me. He slept on the couch with no complaints, and even held me close when a noise outside had me convinced the stalker was going to break down the now locked door and rape me again.

The admirers notes slowed. They first were promises of coming back again, to see my "beautiful fertile body" up close again. Then threats when my friend moved in. Then nothing. I thought the nightmare was over.

I had chalked up the throwing up to a traumatic response and the drugs working their way out of my system. When it continued I didn't think much of it. Attributed the weight gain to my friend fussing over me and making sure I ate well. But the slightly round look of my stomach unsettled me, so I bit the bullet and took a pregnancy test.

Positive.

I was in hysterics when I saw the lines, and my friend ran into the room asking if I was hurt. I just shook my head and showed him the test, and he took me into his arms. We both know by this point it was too late to abort in the state this town was in, and travel costs put it out of the question if I could go out of state to have it done.

My friend assured me that it would be alright. That he'd help me through this. That he'd even help me raise the baby if I didn't want to be a single father.

Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, maybe it was the kindness he'd shown me this past month or two. Maybe it was the way he looked up at me, having knelt down in front of me to make his promise of support. But I kissed him. I had fallen in love with this man, who'd taken care of me in my time of greatest need. And with the way he kissed me back, he'd fallen for me too.

It was like a switch was flipped, like he had been holding back this entire time. I invited him into my bed, and every night his hands were on me. I loved the way he felt, so happy to have someone else touch me after what happened. Every touch was adoring and reverent, he made me feel like a prince. Id beg him to cum deep inside me and breed me, and he'd get a look in his eyes when he pounded my cunt. It helped me pretend it was his baby growing inside me, especially when he'd put his hand on my growing stomach protectively.

Our relationship moved quickly. We were dating for only three months when he proposed to me, but it felt like three years. Gladly I accepted, and it took only two months to set up the wedding. He handled everything, insistent I just relax because he didn't want to stress out the baby. I was heavily pregnant at our wedding, and I heard a few murmurs about it being a shotgun wedding. I let them gossip- I hadn't told anyone about my attack, and I didn't care if they thought we were just getting married because I got knocked up. My husband and I knew the truth.

Those final few months were hard, but my wonderful husband took such good care of me. Doted on me hand and foot, took care of the chickens entirely, and with winter setting in soon I didn't need to tend the garden at all. This loving wonderful man cared for me through every stage of this unwanted pregnancy and turned it into the start of a beautiful life. It was like a scene out of a romance novel.

My labor was hard, but he was there through it all. Fussing over me and ensuring I got the best care. It hurts beyond words, the baby huge and heavy, but I managed. A sweet baby girl.

He was overjoyed. The next two months spent in a sleepy newborn haze, of course. But he was always there, at my side. He cooked dinner, kept the house tidy, watched the baby as I tended the chickens, our main income aside from a few residuals from some old novel he wrote years ago. He didn't even ask for sex, knowing I was healing, even if I wanted to regardless of doctors orders. But we waited.

The anniversary of the attack came and went, and he held me through my sobs. Reminded me that even if the experience was horrible, we had our beautiful daughter, and our beautiful relationship, because of it. And he was right. I was able to leave it behind.

As time wore on, he continued to be an amazing husband. Attentive in daily life, wonderful to our child, and absolutely fantastic in bed.

Nights spent after the baby was sleeping entwined in each other. His cock buried to the hilt in my needy cunt, his mouth on my heavy milky tits. Some nights, id let him take Polaroid photos of me impaled on his cock, or sucking him off, or stroking my tdick as his cum leaked out of me. I never saw where he kept them, but the idea that my body was so important to him he kept photos around made me feel good and loved. I never needed to ask with him, he somehow always knew what I needed, and I was often marked with hickies along my body from him. He said he was claiming every part of me.

A few months into summer, I felt off again. This time I didn't wait, and took a pregnancy test right away. Positive again. We weren't trying explicitly, but we weren't preventing it either, especially not with how I begged him to breed me every night. I told him, and he was overjoyed. I felt like I was in a fairy tale.

We decided to turn his old stuff into a playroom, since the nursery itself was small. I set to work on it in the mornings, while he was making breakfast. It was a lot to take down and move, so it took a while. While emptying his desk to have him move it to storage, I found a little cardboard box. Curious, I opened it up.

At first I thought it was the dirty photos he had taken of me. The idea of him alone in his study, fucking his hand to these photos when working late on a new story made me shiver. But then, under those photos were more. Candid shots of me out with friends, even before the baby. I hadn't gotten out much after the baby came, not like I went much of anywhere after the attack. These photos were old.

Then, the ones from my home. In through the windows while I was changing. My shirtless working in my garden. Me reaching for a gift wrapped bottle of wine.

With shaking hands, I set the box down. My husband, unbeknownst to me, had come up behind me. He wrapped his arms tightly around me, in a way hours ago I would find protective but now felt like a vice grip.

"What's the matter, love?" He asked, as he placed a hand over my womb, once again full of his child. "I told you we were meant to be. That you would look beautiful heavy with my baby for the rest of your life. I know you think so too. Why else would you beg me to breed that fertile, beautiful body of yours again? Just as I said before. If it weren't for that night, we wouldn't have our daughter, or our marriage. I just wish I'd done it sooner."

#ftm breeding #ftmpreg #forced impreg #preggo kink #cnc stalking #cvntboy #r@pe fantasy #stalking fantasy #ftm pregnancy #cnc drugging #noncon drugging #forced intox #f0rced impreg #f0rced breeding #f0rced int0x #my writing #i have been playing way too much sta.rdew and those yandere mods have caught my attention so I might be doing some of that

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mostlysignssomeportents · 13 days ago

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Shifting $677m from the banks to the people, every year, forever

I'll be in TUCSON, AZ from November 8-10: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

"Switching costs" are one of the great underappreciated evils in our world: the more it costs you to change from one product or service to another, the worse the vendor, provider, or service you're using today can treat you without risking your business.

Businesses set out to keep switching costs as high as possible. Literally. Mark Zuckerberg's capos send him memos chortling about how Facebook's new photos feature will punish anyone who leaves for a rival service with the loss of all their family photos – meaning Zuck can torment those users for profit and they'll still stick around so long as the abuse is less bad than the loss of all their cherished memories:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

It's often hard to quantify switching costs. We can tell when they're high, say, if your landlord ties your internet service to your lease (splitting the profits with a shitty ISP that overcharges and underdelivers), the switching cost of getting a new internet provider is the cost of moving house. We can tell when they're low, too: you can switch from one podcatcher program to another just by exporting your list of subscriptions from the old one and importing it into the new one:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/16/keep-it-really-simple-stupid/#read-receipts-are-you-kidding-me-seriously-fuck-that-noise

But sometimes, economists can get a rough idea of the dollar value of high switching costs. For example, a group of economists working for the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau calculated that the hassle of changing banks is costing Americans at least $677m per year (see page 526):

https://files.consumerfinance.gov/f/documents/cfpb_personal-financial-data-rights-final-rule_2024-10.pdf

The CFPB economists used a very conservative methodology, so the number is likely higher, but let's stick with that figure for now. The switching costs of changing banks – determining which bank has the best deal for you, then transfering over your account histories, cards, payees, and automated bill payments – are costing everyday Americans more than half a billion dollars, every year.

Now, the CFPB wasn't gathering this data just to make you mad. They wanted to do something about all this money – to find a way to lower switching costs, and, in so doing, transfer all that money from bank shareholders and executives to the American public.

And that's just what they did. A newly finalized Personal Financial Data Rights rule will allow you to authorize third parties – other banks, comparison shopping sites, brokers, anyone who offers you a better deal, or help you find one – to request your account data from your bank. Your bank will be required to provide that data.

I loved this rule when they first proposed it:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/10/getting-things-done/#deliverism

And I like the final rule even better. They've really nailed this one, even down to the fine-grained details where interop wonks like me get very deep into the weeds. For example, a thorny problem with interop rules like this one is "who gets to decide how the interoperability works?" Where will the data-formats come from? How will we know they're fit for purpose?

This is a super-hard problem. If we put the monopolies whose power we're trying to undermine in charge of this, they can easily cheat by delivering data in uselessly obfuscated formats. For example, when I used California's privacy law to force Mailchimp to provide list of all the mailing lists I've been signed up for without my permission, they sent me thousands of folders containing more than 5,900 spreadsheets listing their internal serial numbers for the lists I'm on, with no way to find out what these lists are called or how to get off of them:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/22/degoogled/#kafka-as-a-service

So if we're not going to let the companies decide on data formats, who should be in charge of this? One possibility is to require the use of a standard, but again, which standard? We can ask a standards body to make a new standard, which they're often very good at, but not when the stakes are high like this. Standards bodies are very weak institutions that large companies are very good at capturing:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/30/weak-institutions/

Here's how the CFPB solved this: they listed out the characteristics of a good standards body, listed out the data types that the standard would have to encompass, and then told banks that so long as they used a standard from a good standards body that covered all the data-types, they'd be in the clear.

Once the rule is in effect, you'll be able to go to a comparison shopping site and authorize it to go to your bank for your transaction history, and then tell you which bank – out of all the banks in America – will pay you the most for your deposits and charge you the least for your debts. Then, after you open a new account, you can authorize the new bank to go back to your old bank and get all your data: payees, scheduled payments, payment history, all of it. Switching banks will be as easy as switching mobile phone carriers – just a few clicks and a few minutes' work to get your old number working on a phone with a new provider.

This will save Americans at least $677 million, every year. Which is to say, it will cost the banks at least $670 million every year.

Naturally, America's largest banks are suing to block the rule:

https://www.americanbanker.com/news/cfpbs-open-banking-rule-faces-suit-from-bank-policy-institute

Of course, the banks claim that they're only suing to protect you, and the $677m annual transfer from their investors to the public has nothing to do with it. The banks claim to be worried about bank-fraud, which is a real thing that we should be worried about. They say that an interoperability rule could make it easier for scammers to get at your data and even transfer your account to a sleazy fly-by-night operation without your consent. This is also true!

It is obviously true that a bad interop rule would be bad. But it doesn't follow that every interop rule is bad, or that it's impossible to make a good one. The CFPB has made a very good one.

For starters, you can't just authorize anyone to get your data. Eligible third parties have to meet stringent criteria and vetting. These third parties are only allowed to ask for the narrowest slice of your data needed to perform the task you've set for them. They aren't allowed to use that data for anything else, and as soon as they've finished, they must delete your data. You can also revoke their access to your data at any time, for any reason, with one click – none of this "call a customer service rep and wait on hold" nonsense.

What's more, if your bank has any doubts about a request for your data, they are empowered to (temporarily) refuse to provide it, until they confirm with you that everything is on the up-and-up.

I wrote about the lawsuit this week for @[email protected]'s Deeplinks blog:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/10/no-matter-what-bank-says-its-your-money-your-data-and-your-choice

In that article, I point out the tedious, obvious ruses of securitywashing and privacywashing, where a company insists that its most abusive, exploitative, invasive conduct can't be challenged because that would expose their customers to security and privacy risks. This is such bullshit.

It's bullshit when printer companies say they can't let you use third party ink – for your own good:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2024/01/hp-ceo-blocking-third-party-ink-from-printers-fights-viruses/

It's bullshit when car companies say they can't let you use third party mechanics – for your own good:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/03/rip-david-graeber/#rolling-surveillance-platforms

It's bullshit when Apple says they can't let you use third party app stores – for your own good:

https://www.eff.org/document/letter-bruce-schneier-senate-judiciary-regarding-app-store-security

It's bullshit when Facebook says you can't independently monitor the paid disinformation in your feed – for your own good:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/05/comprehensive-sex-ed/#quis-custodiet-ipsos-zuck

And it's bullshit when the banks say you can't change to a bank that charges you less, and pays you more – for your own good.

CFPB boss Rohit Chopra is part of a cohort of Biden enforcers who've hit upon a devastatingly effective tactic for fighting corporate power: they read the law and found out what they're allowed to do, and then did it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/23/getting-stuff-done/#praxis

The CFPB was created in 2010 with the passage of the Consumer Financial Protection Act, which specifically empowers the CFPB to make this kind of data-sharing rule. Back when the CFPA was in Congress, the banks howled about this rule, whining that they were being forced to share their data with their competitors.

But your account data isn't your bank's data. It's your data. And the CFPB is gonna let you have it, and they're gonna save you and your fellow Americans at least $677m/year – forever.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/01/bankshot/#personal-financial-data-rights

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humming-fly · 30 days ago

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If you live in the US, STOP SCROLLING

This is your reminder to make a Voting Plan!

Step 1: Check your Registration

Registered already? Go to Step 3!

Step 2: Register to Vote

Step 3: Learn about your state's Early Voting Options

Like early voting and have that option? Skip to Step 5!

Step 4: Explore your Day-Of Voting Options

Step 5: Research Candidates

Step 6: Share your Plans

Detailed sample down below!

Step 1: I'm in California, so I clicked here at https://www.vote411.org/check-registration

Clicking on that took me to my state's registration check page, where I filled out in those fun black squares with my info...

...and there's my confirmation! This also provides info on where I'm currently registered to vote, which is good to know when looking up ballot drop-off locations.

Step 2: Since I already am registered I could skip this, but just to show it off here's what the online tool at https://www.vote411.org/register looks like!

The site asks you to put in your name and mailing address, and then sends you off to your own state's voter registration page to finish it up!

Step 3: Since I'm in California, I went to https://www.vote411.org/select-state and selected that state to bring up CA's voting information page.

And here's what my info looks like! The top of the page gives a quick overview of registration deadlines...

...and scrolling down reveals a bunch of additional info for any further questions! I've selected Early Voting on the lefthand tab to bring that up here.

Skimming this, it looks like California offers voting by mail, which is what I want to do.

Scrolling further down the lefthand menu I pulled up the Vote by Mail tab to learn more...

...and based on the information there I went to find the tab that would tell me about Drop Boxes in California!

Following that link brings me to California's early voting drop-off page.

For now let's just use Disneyland as our address to see where we can drop things off. Entering the county and city information we get this list:

Checking the box to Display Results on Map, it looks like there's a drop off location right by Disney that is open 24 hours! I went ahead and screenshotted the address on my computer, and opened it in google maps so that I could keep track of where it was.

Perfect, I now have a plan for dropping off my mail-in ballot!

Finally, I want to know where my mail-in ballot is. Assuming you live in a state with mail-in ballots but haven't seen yours yet, you can usually track them or request new ones if your address has recently changed.

I just googled "California mail in ballot tracking" and wound up on this page.

Filling out the little form at the Where'sMyBallot link (name and date of birth), I can see that my ballot has been sent out and is en route!

Since it was sent on October 7th, I suspect it's already arrived, and lo and behold checking my mailbox there it is buried under all the political mailers!

Step 4: Since I will be voting by mail, I will skip Step 4 for now (though vote411.org lists traditional voting areas/what I'd need to bring so that's where I'd get that info if needed!)

Step 5: When doing research I started with https://www.vote411.org/ballot, since it gives a preview image of all of the items that will be on my ballot based on my address.

I can click on any of these to see the candidate options, and their statements if they've been provided. However for many of these options on vote411.org there aren't too many additional details, so I want to do my own research looking at neutral voting summaries and candidate endorsements by groups I align with politically!

For the election summary, I started with the General Election Official Voter Information Guide booklet that was mailed to my address a few weeks ago. This is the best source of unbiased voting information in my opinion, especially when it comes to state and local propositions since it will summarize them and also include opinion pieces written for and against each one. You can also access it online, as shown below!

To find it, I googled "California Official Voter Information Guide", and made sure it was sourced from my local government.

Another good source of information I used is npr.org, or National Public Radio. NPR provides news that is free to read and listen to, and is one of my personal favorite ways to stay informed. There's also local branches of the station for every state, and each one will usually have a voting guide with side-by-side comparisons that makes it easy to read.

To find mine, I googled "California NPR Voting Guide"

Finally if there was anything on the ballot where I wasn't convinced one way or the other on certain candidates or initiatives, I checked out some political endorsements!

A few of the ones I looked at are Planned Parenthood (women's health and abortion access), the Sunrise Movement (climate activism), the Sierra Club (climate change, national park preservation). I found these by googling "[Name of org] voting guide california".

Since I'm voting by mail I could keep these webpages opened as I filled out my ballot.

For voting in person, I'd recommend writing candidates down as a cheat sheet to bring into the poll so you can remember what you want to vote for! https://www.vote411.org/ballot will let you arrange that cheat sheet real easily.

Now that my ballot is filled out I'll just drop it off at the address I found in Step 3 - setting a time for myself, I'll plan to drop it off when I go for a walk this afternoon! 👍

Step 6:

After I finished up I went ahead and posted on facebook and to my friends in discord on how I'd made a voting plan, to help encourage friends/family to do the same!

You can be as public or as personal as you want here, but sharing can help encourage others to put a plan together too - if you made it this far it can even be as simple as reblogging this post with a message saying "I Made a Voting Plan"!

#voting guide #how to vote #voting plan #I'll be sharing this a few more times before election day!#it's really important to go vote and making a voting plan helps guarantee that you'll do it!#wrote this instead of having an anxiety attack yesterday lol #this seemed more productive

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writeoffside · 4 months ago

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DOCUMENTS AND DESTINIES

♯ battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader - 1/?

summary: An unexpected visitor comes to your work to check out the history of his company, which leads you both to a tense search for the much needed files… Which is pretty tiring for you.

warnings: none - just swearing

info: english isn't my first language, i apologize in advance for all the mistakes (if there are any!)

a/n: working on part 2 now hihihi

The time went slowly when you were stuck in the office. The uncountable amount of times you've checked the clock is absurd.

Papers are all over the table, every single document staring at you back. The highly reflective colored highlighters sitting at the side of your desk. Nearly at their lowest as they've been used so many times in the past few hours. The documents are full of names, places, words, numbers and other symbols. Some names are unknown to you, some familiar.

A sigh escapes your lips, turning to the side to look at the clock on the other side of the room.

It was finally reaching the time you were mostly looking forward to.

5:58, the clock read.

"Thank god," you whispered out to yourself. Slowly gathering all the papers from your table and closing the work laptop in front of you. All the papers are quickly gathered on top of each other and put into a dark purple-colored folder. The color is slowly ripped around the edges of the folder as it has been in use for a very long time. A white — now dark pastel brown like color sticker is in the middle of it. The sticker is pulled at the edges,

but still stays on. Your name written on top of it, written with a dark blue pen. You don't have the heart to switch the folder with a new one. It holds too many memories.

In a quick time, all of the things you've had on your table are safely packed and put inside your bag. All the documents are starting to overflow your folder, which ends up taking the whole space in your bag. You know well that your shoulder is going to be hurting pretty badly when you come back home with the bag draped over it.

Your boss had barged inside your office just a few days ago with multiple folders on top of each other in his hands. When he dropped them all onto your table, it felt like the table itself would drop as well and break down just there.

He started talking about how he needs the documents to be checked, corrected, and put out into mails, then returned... And more instructions were flying onto you from his mouth. Which you've totally ignored, but gave him a nod as you pretended to listen to his instructions. The amount of documents there could be counted into hundreds and hundreds.

Now, thankfully, you were about to just go home and enjoy your night by yourself!

Or so you have thought.

As you were about to move your chair back to the table and make your way out of your office, a knock sounded on your door. Which sounded completely different from the knock your boss' usually gives you on your office door.

With a deep sigh, you made your way towards the door and pushed it open. The person who was standing behind the door was someone that nobody in the entire building would expect.

Bruce fucking Wayne.

"Daniel's not here," you quickly muttered out the first thing that came to your mind. Mentally slapping yourself for such an answer. Of course, your boss wouldn't be there... In your office.

"I'm not here for Mr. Meyer... The receptionist told me that you are the only one in the building with the keys to the archive. Is that so?" He asked lowly and looked back to the hallway that he most likely came from.

"Oh! Yeah... I am the only one with the keys," you chirped, backing away from the door and walking back into your office, "I was just about to go home, but thankfully, you caught me just at the right time!" You laughed your sentence off awkwardly. He remained silent and with no other expression. His stoic' expression remained unchanged.

You opened the drawers of the cabinet, which was near the table and fumbled with the drawer, which keep the keys safe. Finally opening it and pulling out the set of keys that could open the multiple doors of the archive. The keys rattled with a sound as you picked them up from the drawer.

Then in just a moment, you closed the drawers, stood back straight, and looked over to Mr. Wayne, who was still standing outside of the office. Now fidgeting with his fingers, with his head hung low. He stood here, waiting, with no intention to move inside the office to retrieve the keys himself from you.

He was wearing a dark set of brown pants, which weren't skinny nor baggy. A white pastel-like blouse underneath a matching dark brown jacket with its front opened. The little cufflinks with 'W' could be seen on the cuffs of the blouse. His shoes were peeking out from the bottom of the pants. His dark hair was falling into his face and his pale white skin was showing off.

You shuffled back outside and closed the door of your office. Your belongings still inside as you'll have to take the keys back and lock them up back into the drawer after you come back from the archives.

"Okay... We can go now, this way! Down the stairs and then to the archive doors," you told him as he looked up to meet your eyes. His expression still hasn't changed since he knocked on your door.

Both of you made your way towards the staircase with no words uttered between each of you. The steps echoed around as both of you walked down. The sound of your heels hitting the stairs echoed down the staircase.

"If I may ask, Mr. Wayne... Why do you need to go to the archives? Is there something wrong with the documents we've sent back to the Enterprises? We can—" You were quickly cut off by his husky voice.

"No. There's no problem with the documents we've received," his voice cut your rambling quickly, "I've found something else... In the older documents. What my father might still have stored down there, in your archives... I need to check them out for certain reasons," he informed you as you reached the end of the stairs and started walking through the long, hardly lit, hallway.

The walk to the archives felt endless.

The sound of your heels hitting the tiled floor started to echo around the hallway once again. His walk was steady and his steps were long. The awkward silence felt like it grew with each step you both took. You had to walk even quicker than before, to catch up next to him.

"Here it is," you told him as both of you stopped in front of locked doors with a black bold writing on it 'ARCHIVES' and a smaller text underneath which said; 'RESTRICTED AREA; NO ADMITTANCE - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY'

The keys jiggled as you looked through them to find the right one for the first door. The key had a little red cover on it with a little black bold number one, '1' written on it. Meaning that it's for the first door of the archives.

You unlocked the first door and turned to Mr. Wayne to let him in first. With a nod, he entered the room and walked deeper into the room.

"Your father's documents are stored in the more 'locked up' side of the archives, the much more important side," you told him as you closed the door behind you. The room is filled with drawers, shelves and boxes full of important documents, the scent of old paper making its way to your nose.

You quickly make your way towards him, where he's standing by door with '2' written on it and some smaller text underneath it, which you don't care to read as you've been there multiple times before.

You unlock the door and let him in first again. Closing the door after the two of you. You look over as you see him stalk over to the next door at the end of the current archive room.

God, this man has no patience.

"What's up with your father's documents, though? They've been checked, even multiple times and on different occasions... And your father, he used to—" You started rambling to him as you approached him but you were, once again, quickly cut off by him.

"I know. But I have to check something on them. For personal reasons and also to check up on our history, the Wayne Enterprises' history, with others... I know what I'm doing," he snaps back at you sternly, now looking straight at you, into your eyes. His brows furrowed.

The tone that he spoke to you in, was no close to respectful, nor close to being polite. A scoff wanted to make its way out of your mouth, but you rather kept it shut. Your lips press into a thin line as you watch him look back at the door he waits for.

You unlocked the third door and let him in first again. He stops and looks over at you for a split of a moment and then he's turning his body away from you and heading inside, leaving you standing by the door alone.

With another sigh, you make your way inside, closing the door after you.

You made your way towards him, where he was standing. He was standing by the drawers with a big red 'W' written on the label, peeking from the side of the drawers. All of the drawers marked with red 'W' contained all the documents from the Wayne's.

"You can... Um, check the documents you need. Just put them back into their place, where they were placed before," you told him as you watched him open the first set of archive drawers to check through them.

A few minutes went by, he put out about five files out onto a table next to him. He went through every single document and file, flipping through every page he came across.

"Who's this?" He suddenly asked. His finger stopped at a certain part of the document he was reading at the moment.

You stood up from the very much uncomfortable chair that you were sitting on. You made your way towards him and looked over to the documents that he was holding.

He lowered the documents to your height and his finger hovered above a certain name.

Scott Starkey.

His name was crossed out with a black marker. In every sentence, his name was mentioned.

You looked up to meet his eyes and then back down at the name, "He used to be close with your father. He worked hard to reach a position as your father had... Or at least one close to him. He was so ambitious and hungry for success as he, your father, had," you started telling him. Bruce's eyes stayed on you.

"His ambition to get to that position literally consumed him and morphed it all into one huge obsession. He fought against his own limitations. He didn't know when to stop... His friendship with your father started to tear, he couldn't understand why your father had achieved so much so effortlessly. His admiration turned into resentment, anger, and total hatred against him," you told him as you looked up to meet his furrowed expression. His stance was now noticeably different, he was standing straight as he listened to you.

"He dug so deep into your father's personal life. Scott started to spread your father's secrets and things about his personal life, your father's reputation wasn't going to end well for him, or anyone in the Wayne Enterprises if he would have continued," you sighed as you stopped for a moment.

"What happened to him?" Bruce suddenly rasped out into the silence with his question. He looked into your eyes and then down at the documents, which he was holding in his hands. A deep frown on his face after hearing thr backstory from you.

"I don't really know..." you mumbled out to him. Your mind going blank now. They never told anyone what had actually happened to him, he just left everything behind and never came back.

He completely disappeared.

Bruce hummed and closed the file quickly. The dust flew into the air. Floating around the two of you. The files haven't been opened for a long time now.

A cough made its way out of you from the dust. You waved your hand around to get the dust away from your face.

Meanwhile, Bruce turned his body away and opened the next drawer, and took out the first file of documents, reading and listing through them. His brows were furrowed in concentration, eyes running over all the words, numbers, and symbols written on the paperwork.

You went back to sit in the chair you sat in moments prior. You didn't take your phone down there, so you've got no idea what the time currently is. But you know one thing and that is that you should have been home for at least an hour now. Not at work, sitting in the archives, on the most uncomfortable chair ever, and with the Bruce fucking Wayne.

You try to sit comfortably on it as you watch him go through another opened file, which is more of a yellowish color. Must be an older one than the other ones.

As you watch him closely, you can feel your eyelids getting heavier. Your head slowly falls forward, hanging lowly. Your eyelids flutter shut and you can feel yourself drifting away into the darkness.

The sound of traffic and the rhythmic hum of a car wakes you up.

You slowly come to your senses and open your eyes to see the road of Gotham City, full of traffic, in front of you. The rain is falling against the car.

The car. You're in a car.

Your head quickly shoots up to look at your surroundings. You blink a few times as the very unknown and unfamiliar surroundings come into focus.

You're seated in an unknown car in the passenger seat, with a seatbelt on. The interior of the car is black and looks way more luxurious than your car does.

You look to the side and you finally see the driver of the car.

Bruce Wayne is sitting at the driver's side, holding the steering wheel. His side profile is up to your eyes as you watch him from your seat.

His eyes suddenly flicker to yours and you can see a slight hint of a smirk coming up on his face. And then it's quickly gone.

"You're awake," he says, his eyes returning to the road ahead.

"Where... Where am I? I was at the archives. Where are my things?" you groggily ask as you push yourself away from the window that you were leaning against the moments before.

"Wait! The keys! I didn't put them back, didn't lock the doors! Oh my god, Daniel's gonna kill me!" The realization suddenly comes onto you and dawns slowly. You recall your last moments when you were at the archives; sitting in the chair, slowly falling asleep while he checked through the files.

Bruce sighed softly at your rambling, "I locked all three doors. As well put the keys into their place and locked your office," you looked over to him once again as he talked, "your things are in the backseat, don't worry."

You slowly looked over to the backseat and saw your coat and your bag on the seat, with the dark purple folder peeking out. You smiled to yourself.

Then the silence filled the car they were in for a brief moment.

"Thank you... For taking care of the things and taking me with you," you said to him after a few brief moments.

You see him give you a small nod, his gaze never moving from the road and traffic ahead. His hands turn the wheel to the side as the car moves to the left. You recognize the street you're driving through.

"Wait— How'd you know where I live?" You ask him as you watch the buildings and cars go by through the window.

"A friend of yours told me… Angus?" He answered, his eyes flickering to yours for a moment. His expression is much softer than back in the archives.

"Oh! Angus, yeah..." you sigh as you lean back into the seat, the tiredness creeping back onto you.

You watch the buildings go by and then another turn comes. Then you see your apartment building just a few buildings away from where you're right now.

"This is me," you point out to the building you're nearly at. The building looks like any other ordinary building in Gotham.

Bruce nods as he slows the car down and parks near the curb, in front of your building entrance.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door of the car. Your feet meets the pavement and you stand up. Your body aching from the sleep.

You softly close the front door behind you and make your way toward the back door to get your things out.

You're met with Bruce standing by the other side of the car, with your long coat and bag in his arms. He walks around the back of the car and hands you the items.

"Thank you," you utter to him softly, taking the items from his grasp, "for everything you've done for me today. Means a lot," you smile up at him.

You're so sure that you saw the corners of his mouth turn a bit upwards. A smile wanting to creep up onto his face.

"No problem," he says after a long pause. He nods his head and leans against the back of his car, his arms folded over his chest, and closely watches you stand.

His tone was steady but his eyes and posture said differently. His eyes held a hint of something even more. A very subtle, small smile coming up onto his face couldn't even be seen.

An awkward silence took over your small conversation.

You shuffled from side to side on your feet, looking down to the ground before meeting his eyes once again.

"So... Well, I should probably... I should probably head in," you say with a small smile to him, clutching your bag and coat to your chest.

"Oh, yeah... Of course!" He quickly replied with a shake of his head. As he pushed himself off the car.

You gave him another shy smile and turned yourself around to leave, walking up the stairs to the entrance of the apartment building. As you reached for the door, you looked back and lifted a hesitant hand to give an awkward wave to him.

Turning back and opening the door to the building. Your steps finally met the surface of the tiled floor of your apartment building's first floor.

You take a quick glance over your shoulder and catch your eyes with him once again.

Then he lifts his hand as well, and a very hesitant wave comes back to you. A smile plastered on his face. His smile grows as he watches you disappear into the apartment building. A warm feeling spreading through his chest.

With a final glance at the building, he walks around and gets back into his car. The childish smile not leaving his face at all.

The whole ride back is quiet. But he can hear his heart beat so loudly inside of his chest. As he drives, he can only think of one certain thing. His mind is stuck.

He only thinks of you.

PART TWO

bruce wayne fic is here! i'm so obsessed with battinson hahahah

give it some love if u liked it thank uu <3

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kremlin · 1 year ago

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"This event ends the moment you write us a check, and it better not bounce, or you're a dead motherfucker" -- Big Bill Hell

There was a time when you'd see little old ladies paying for the groceries with a hand-written personal check, holding up the line, causing an immediately-forgiven slight sense of annoyance with those behind her. Buddy. Those days are over. They've been over. What, did you think you were going to just pop a couple extra zeroes on the end of your paycheck there? Maybe scan your paycheck, open it in photoshop, make a template, print em out all nice? You think you're the first to think of that, dipshit?

It takes the law a long time to catch up with the state of the art. You're reading this on the internet, which means you never use checks. The law has caught up. Your ass will be going to prison immediately and you will see zero return.

You can't even kite checks anymore, and hell, nobody under 40 will even know what that means, due to the blazing fast, two day settlement on all ACH transactions. Let me paint you a picture.

You get paid on Friday, but it is Monday, and bills are due on Tuesday. And you're broke: $0 in the bank. Goose egg. Pop open your checkbook, go to a store, "buy" some things, write a check for the amount. The cashier takes it!

Now take those things you "bought", across town, to another store location, and return them for cold hard cash. Sweet. Bills paid. Friday rolls around, and you just make it to the bank to deposit your paycheck before it closes. After the weekend, the checks you wrote finally post, and they don't bounce! You've kited a check. You've surreptitiously taken a zero-interest loan. And we know your broke ass. The interest rate on that short-term payday loan should have been straight up usurious. We're talking 29%. That makes predatory fuckers like us horny for sex. We're so mad. Now you are going to Federal Prison. For a good minute. Fuckface.

COST: $0.10 (With banks offering free checking accounts + Bic pen)

"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor sleet, if you fuck with the mail, we'll rip your nuts off" -- Ronald Mail (Inventor of Mail)

Many people have this misnomer that the most powerful people in politics are democratically elected. The president, of the United States, of America, is a stupid cartoon hotdog. All of them, I don't care. Way less clout than you'd think. Brilliantly, it is the people that the hotdog president appoints who are actually doing anything significant. The director of the CIA. The fucking chairman of the Federal Reserve. Probably the, like, most senior, uh, general of the military, and shit too. I don't know, we don't "do" army here at Bloomberg. You probably don't even know their names! I don't! These are the ones you should be seeing in your sleep.

There's another position like that. Appointed directly by the hotdog. The Postmaster General. That's a real title. He's the CEO of the mail, and buddy, what he may lack in political power relative to the director of the CEO, he makes up in raw sexual energy. Total Tom Selleck energy. Like an airline pilot. We're talking Donald Sutherland in Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I'm tentpoling in my black business slacks just writing this, and all my Bloomberg newsroom bros are peering over my shoulder and also tent-poling. We're not gay though, and especially me, I'm probably the least gay, but sometimes I just lay awake for hours at night what that mustache would feel like pressed against my lips, the unbelievable and utter, total sense of security I'd feel burying my head into his hard chest.

You get it. He's your dad. And if you fuck with the mail, you've fucked with the tools in your dad's garage. And dad's been drinking. You're in for it, bucko, you are in trouble. Do you think the United States Postal Service actually makes any money? Hell no. It costs like five bucks to mail a box basically anywhere I can think of and they give you the boxes for free. You can just walk in the post office and take them. I do that, and then just throw them away, I don't know why, some kind of compulsion. Being able to move shit around like this, quickly, cheaply -- Jesus H, I've got a huge amount of money in my bank account, probably tens of trillions of dollars (due to financial knowledge gained from reading Bloomberg articles) and I could probably mail every single person ever something and still come out in the black.

No way pal. They've thought of that already. The Postmaster General is going to know every time, and he's going to grab you by the shirt collar, wearing his cool as fuck hat, and you're going to get your pants pulled down, and your bare ass spanke...I need to go use the restroom real quick.

We rely on the mail system to get important shit done. It's not something to be taken lightly, and it isn't. Trust me. This is why, like almost every other person who receives mail in this year 2023, I just fucking put a wastebasket under my mail slot. I don't even shred that shit anymore. I just burn it. Takes less time.

COST: $0.63 (Postal stamp)

"Can call all you want, but there's no one home // And you're not gonna reach my telephone // Out in the club, and I'm sipping that bubb // And you're not gonna reach my telephone" -- Lady Gaga

I read something wild that the children of today do not know what a dial tone is, because of how fucked up and stupid they are. Isn't that super fucked up?

While it's not really our style, allow me to fill you in on some ancient, arcane knowledge about the telephone. You can turn it on, and then you can punch in numbers. Any numbers. Random ones, or maybe not random ones. If the ten numbers you punch in are the same as the numbers in someone else's telephone number, their phone will ring, and then you are talking to them. This is called "Phreaking".

Here's the kicker: You can tell that jackass anything you want. "Oh, Hi, Yes, I am Reginald Sumpter calling from Avalon Consulting LLC, we are just following up on the invoice we sent you. Please remit to ###### routing ###### account."

BOOM! Your name isn't Reginald whatever and that company doesn't exist, but you just received a deposit. It's fucking beautiful. What have you done wrong? It isn't your responsibility to handle who your business' clients/etc are, it's their's. If they want to just pay you money for no real reason, well, that's kind of on them, isn't it? I haven't stuck a pistol in your face and demanded everything in the register.

Well, it's too clever. It's too slick. This is the United States of America. It's one thing to commit a felony like armed robbery, it's another thing to piss off someone in charge of the accounting division who uses a special bathroom you need a key to get into.

You can do it on the computer too, I use a PC Computer at work and send email, so you can see how it'd work there. You can make a document that is indifferentiable from a real invoice and, straight up, 1/3 of the time they will pay that shit. Lmfao.

It's called wire fraud because, uhh, duhhhh, there's wires. What do you think that thing is strung between the telephone receiver and the dialer? And computers? Give me a break. There's so many wires with those.

COST: $0.25 (Coin for payphone)

"People calculate too much and think too little." -- Charlie Munger

It is insane how dumb the common man can be when it comes to our world of expertise. I hear this same sentiment, like, ALL THE TIME:

"Durr hurr I will buy an insurance policy for my car or house or whatever so that in case something happens to it I will get money". And then that same person proceeds to drive safely or not burn their house down. Dumbest crap imaginable.

Let me break it down for you. Insurance is a two player competitive game. There is a winner and there is a loser. Go take out an expensive insurance policy on your American sports car. Buy a neck brace, a football helmet, and pack that bitch with throw pillows. Then get in the left lane of a major highway at like noonish, let it rip and then SLAM on your brakes. Hit from behind! Your fault! Congratulations. You have won insurance. How this gets past people is beyond me.

You can only do this once or twice before the insurance companies catch on. Then they don't want to fuck with you. It is also..I don't know man...something feels off about taking a car or a house, which like, some guy had to build and just destroying it, but that is only a weird emotional thing, since you're making money, more than whatever the destroyed thing is worth, so in reality you've built that house plus some extra. You've contributed.

COST: $106.00 (Average monthly car insurance payment)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

SUBSCRIBE TO MY WHATEVER FOR PART TWO, COMING SOON. i'll post it later today probably. whatever time frame will juice the numbers. have a sneaky peaky

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queermania · 10 months ago

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I don't want to start drama and I don't expect you to respond to this but I think you deserve to know what's being said about you. tumblr. com/transfagbenny/738678589192552448/and-id-appreciate-if-we-stopped-using-the-terms

i actually am going to address this because this person has been lying about what's been going on for months and they've apparently been harassing other people for months if not years, so. it's time to put an end to this.

before i start though i want to make it abundantly clear that if you take this as an opportunity to do anything other than block this person, then you are trash. do not send him messages. do not tag him in things. do not harass him in any way. leave him alone. if you need to block, do so and then move on. hate mail and harassment is disgusting behavior and i don't want to be surrounded by anybody who engages in it. and if you do it on my behalf, i think you are worthless and i want nothing to do with you.

so, this is what happened: back in february of 2023, an anon asked me if i had any opinions that would get me canceled with the dean girlies. i replied, "oh now we’re talking!! hmmmm let’s see. i don’t care about benny at all. deanbenny does nothing for me. deanbenny is dust. it is dust. drowley rights forever" and i did not tag it because i'm not an asshole. bear then sent me a message that at the time i thought was funny/cute because his url reflected that he was obviously a huge benny fan. we had a very cordial exchange. everything was good. we chatted a little bit about how neat it would've been if benny had been played by a black actor and how the racism problem with gordon would've been fixed if gordon had been played by a white actor. not all of our conversation is visible anymore (and i also don't think all of it was on this post anyway) because i've since blocked him so his replies no longer show up on my posts. the point is: everything was fine. it was a good tumblr exchange. he continued to follow me. i did not follow him then or at any point.

the problem is that he kept coming onto my posts and into my inbox to try to make things about benny. that is not okay. i had already said that benny was a character (and deanbenny a ship) that i was not interested in. to me, this is an obvious boundary i've established that he repeatedly crossed. it's not an egregious violation, obviously. more than anything it's annoying. what he should've done, if benny was that important to him, was unfollow me and move on. but he didn't and i indulged him for awhile but at a certain point i thought, "okay maybe if i stop indulging him, he'll take the hint." so i stopped responding. he did not take the hint. he got worse and he even started commenting on things that he couldn't make about benny, just to willfully misinterpret things i said and taking them completely out of context. unfortunately, i don't have receipts for any of this because at the time i didn't know it was going to become an actual problem (however I have since learned that this is an established pattern of behavior he engages in, so you can probably find examples on other people's blogs).

it got so annoying, though, that i very carefully broached the subject in a private server with people i trusted. without naming any names or using any incriminating language (i.e. not specifically referencing benny), i basically said that there was someone being annoying about a specific character on my posts and i wasn't sure what to do about it. immediately, a handful of people replied with some variation of "the benny stan? he's been doing that to me too." i do have receipts of this (and an entire server to back me up) but i hope you can all understand why i'm not going to provide those or name names (or ask anyone to get involved publicly). the point is, it became apparent that i wasn't the only one and this was a pattern of behavior. i also learned during that conversation that bear has a history of harassing people and calling someone racist or a transphobe if they block him.

at that point, i decided not to rock the boat. i would just continue to ignore him and maybe he would get bored and move on. well that obviously didn't happen. he kept doing it and as a fun added bonus, he started to make vague posts about me. the thing is i don't actually care if he vagueblogs about me. it's his blog. he can do whatever he wants. it's none of my business. i mean i personally think he should've just unfollowed but, again, his blog, his choice. it is annoying that every single time he would do it, someone would send me a link or a screenshot of him doing it, but that's not really his fault. so, again, i just ignored it.

this is where we get to the incident in question. after a private discussion among a small group of friends, i posted this obviously joke poll at the insistence of @letterstothedevil, a tumblr user who has given me permission to include her in this.

the original message about the poll:

the permission:

now EYE think it's abundantly clear that the poll was a joke amongst friends, but maybe it wasn't, and i'm not going to fault anyone for not magically knowing that. i am, however, totally willing to fault someone for being a gigantic asshole. bear commented on the post and i, admittedly, gave a somewhat dismissive response because at that point i was so tired of him being willfully obtuse and twisting every little thing i said that i just didn't want to bother. he then went and made a series of not-at-all-vague posts calling me racist and claiming that i simply do not care about the racism in the show and it's obvious because i've never ever discussed it on my blog (which is a hilarious lie given that i'd specifically discussed it on my blog with him). at that point, there was no reason not to block him. he was already doing the thing that i didn't want to deal with. so i did. and i thought that would be the end of it.

again, i was wrong.

i then started to get anon messages daily about benny and deanbenny and how i'm racist for not liking benny, etc. this was harassment that EYE was on the receiving end of. nobody else was a victim of the messages i was being sent. they were sent to me and it is not my job to make sure other people are protected from the harassment that i am experiencing. i'm pointing this out for two reasons: 1. because i did try to protect bear from it for awhile anyway. i knew that people would assume it was him and at the time i was still giving him the benefit of the doubt, if for no other reason than the fact that i didn't think he could send me messages since i blocked him. and 2. because when i did finally start to respond to some of the messages, bear acted like he was somehow the victim in all of this (and continues to act that way to this day).

i don't know if bear had (or currently has) anything to do with any of the messages i get (which, thankfully, have slowed considerably). what i do know is that at no point during any of this happening did he stop looking at my blog and vagueblogging about me.

when i finally did answer a few of the messages, bear had a bit of a meltdown about it. i know this because he used a separate account that i hadn't know existed to message me and because he talked to one of my friends about it. (i'm not going to name that person but if they want to get involved publicly of their own accord, that's up to them lol). i'm also not going to share screenshots of what bear said to me because he explicitly asked me not to (it's also the reason i'm not sharing screenshots of the numerous receipts i have of the things he's said and lied about on his blog but, unless he's deleted any of them, you can go and find the posts yourselves.) what i am going to share is that in the message he sent to me, he flat out lied about his behavior. he told me he hadn't been vague-blogging about me, that he would never ever do that about anyone, and that he would certainly never harass someone (all things that i have receipts of him doing).

it took me awhile to respond to this message because i was still trying to be gracious about the whole situation. i recognize that he is much younger than i am and i think it's important for me, as a full blown adult, to take that into account. i had a private discussion with a few trusted friends about how to handle this because it was important to me to not let him off the hook for his behavior and for lying just because he's young. this is what i ended up saying:

his response was to double-down on his lies (while, hilariously, vague-blogging about me and the whole thing) and then go into victim mode about something so completely unrelated and far-fetched that i decided i simply wanted nothing to do with him ever. (this is when he asked me not to share screenshots, so i won't, but this is me saying that i have ALL of the receipts, bear, so if you continue to lie, you will not like what happens.) i blocked his alternate account and tried to ignore him.

the harassment continued. again, i have no idea if he was actually part of it. the vagueblogging continued. he started to do it to other people he associated with me. many of them blocked him because of his behavior. i continued to answer some of the hate i received, continued to ignore and/or block most of it. it got so bad that i was sent seizure bait on more than one occasion, one time bad enough that i actually ended up going to the ER. there are receipts of all of this, too. you can see on my blog the messages i've been sent. i think at one point i even shared a snapshot of what my inbox looked like. i've shared privately with friends (who can confirm if they want to, but no pressure) screenshots of the kinds of messages i get that i don't respond to. the point is, that for a period of months, i was relentlessly harassed. and at no point during this time did i say anything to or about bear (or anyone else). the most i've done is respond to messages that have been sent to me. i've largely sat quietly while this thing happened to me and bear continued to make posts about me and act like he is somehow a victim in this. he's assumed things about me and my identity. he's violated boundaries i've set. he will not let this go. and i'm not the only one he's doing it to.

i'm so fucking tired of it. leave me alone. leave my blog alone. leave my friends alone. leave any and all of the people who have blocked you for your own inappropriate and obnoxious behavior alone. that's it. that's the end. none of this would be happening if you would just respect other people's boundaries. i don't want you on my blog. i do not want to interact with you. i don't want anything to do with you. that's it. the end.

#replies #anonymous #wank for ts

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thatsmybook · 8 months ago

Text

A few times, I've heard Lisa and Rojda talk about how Young Royals is about the class system and a queer Prince, but also, it's relatable because not only do the cast look like teenagers, they act like teenagers in today's world. So it's also a show about teenagers. With that in mind, I'd like to talk about Simon Eriksson, working class, immigrant, and mixed race student at Hillerska, falling in love with the Prince.

Simon, in S1, deliberately kept any problems about Sara and his life at Hillerska hidden from his mum because he did not want to burden her. He lied to reassure her when she'd get worried about Sara and equally made decisions to help Sara's wellbeing at school. It seemed that he was taking care of his mum and sister when his dad left and after the abusive relationship that seemed to have really affected the whole family. This is why he doesn't share anything bad that he's going through with his mum. He's trying to protect her. He always has.

As to the comments he is getting. I think he is reading them because often they concern his family and are from the people in their town. That, along with the phone calls at night and hate-mail mentioned by Linda at the court hearing in S3 ep1, this means that he's on hyper-vigilance about threats to him and his family. So, my theory is that he is monitoring his comments and engaging to try to defuse things. But just like in all 3 seasons, his actions often lead to more problems.

This is a 16 year old kid, the youngest in his family, doing things an adult should be doing. This is very relatable for many working-class single parent families. Something to add about first-generation kids of immigrant families, having an extra layer of working to help the family navigate the country and society they're in.

Also, as to the comments, there have been many real life incidents, unfortunately , of teenagers getting hate comments online from their peers and bullied to the point of taking their own lives. Simply telling them not to read the comments may not have worked for them. (Yet so many reactors to this season think it's that simple).

Simon is getting a volumous amount of hate comments, which started right after the sex video was released in S1. At that point, the comments were in the print media.

He needs actual support, less obliviousness from the adults in his life about what is happening to him (that includes the Royal Court), and understanding about the actual effect of comments on his mental health from everyone around him. He is a victim of actual hate, and when I hear about any child going through that kind of regular abuse, my heart goes out to them.

Seeing how supportive Simon's dad could be in this 3rd season in his conversations with Sara, we can see how much Simon actually misses his dad. Because had he had a relationship with him, without the baggage of Sara's need for distance, he would have probably noticed that Simme needed help and been quite good at it, when he could manage it.

However, we as the audience seem to be blinded by Wille's more important problems, partly because the show is largely from his POV, but also because his pressures seem bigger. As a result, I've seen fans come down on Simon for not putting his life's woes in perspective to support Wille more. We start to see big cracks in their relationship and start to feel that they just won't work out.

But, they're also just kids in their first relationship. Miscommunication is completely normal at that age. They've only just been spending actual time with each other this season and getting to know each other. Yet they are dealing with adult problems, and so many of us fans are shouting at the screen - talk to each other! I feel like, if I were one of them, there is so much weight on me that I'd be too scared to open the floodgates and actually tell my boyfriend what's happening because I don't want to scare him. And no wonder they spend most of their time making out. It's the easiest part of their relationship and what gives them actual joy at the moment.

So I give grace to these characters and kudos to the creators of the show, for showing ACTUAL teenagers dealing with real life problems, amplified for drama because of the dichotomy of being a Prince and a commoner. But, I don't judge ANY of the characters when I apply the same analysis I've given here to Simon to all the other four characters. What this show requires of us adults is empathy for their plight and maybe a closer look at the teenagers in our lives. What it does for the teen audience is show them that they're not alone when they mess up or are dealing with life pressures. We as a society won't judge them. We will work to understand them and share their burdens.

#young royals #yr s3 spoilers #simon eriksson #cyberbullying

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year ago

Text

Loser (incel) Reader and Sex-maid bot Yan. Reader orders their new toy same day shipping - grateful to the gods for not having to deal with the hassle of making themselves presentable to other humans, and no longer having to clean their room. A little mistake in mailing leads to them getting their robot a day later than expected, and a large crack in its visor. Reader is obviously pissed by this development, but powers the bot on to see the extent of the damage. It works just fine - minus the loss of its built in knowledge and abilities.

They know their prime directive, but they can't wash a single dish or fold clothes. Other parts of them still function so Reader is fine keeping them around and teaching them what to do while it warms their bed. The Bot feels so useless to their master. All they ever do is question them and break every vase they hold like the ditz it is. Their master even gave them the nickname of Melon likely for the damage they've taken. They'll probably have their memories erased when the repair team comes in....

"All fixed. Just a few unplugged wires at that nasty crack. There seems to be some other bugs, but we'd need to take it in to examine."

"You said they work now, right? It's fine. I don't want to have to teach them how to organize my desk properly again. Those figures are collectables."

Their master was letting them keep their precious memories?... The human had never been the nicest, but they weren't outright cruel either. It was almost....cute how protective of their belongings they were. It was their possession too... Fully capable of pleasing their master in all forms, Melon wouldn't waste their second chance.

They cook their master's favor meals without over seasoning or cooking it. They wash clothes and scold their silly master for wearing things multiple days at a time. They wait hand and foot by day and nights....nights are their favorite part. They sit quietly through their master's God awful attempts at flirting in the off chance they ever seek a human mate - but something's off. There's an ache in their chest whenever they imagine their master with another. Their answers to their master's terrible flirts comes start from that hole when the correct thing to do was tell them of their errors and why no human would want them if they said those things.

No human deserved them anyway... All their master needed to be satisfied - was them

Crackposts under cut - suggestive themes

Melon: Master, what's this? :)

Loser Reader: My body pillow. It stains easy so put it down.

Melon: Ah, it's precious to you then? I'll take good care of it :D

Melon: Master, what's this? :)

Loser Reader: A knife. Be careful with it.

Melon: Oh, it's dangerous? I'll keep it far away from you! <3

Melon: Master.... who is this?

Loser Reader: My crush from highschool. Meant to throw that picture away after they rejected me

Melon: They don't mean anything to you anymore?... I think I've found somewhere to store that knife

Loser Reader: sighs My friend really wants me to meet their sibling. Guess I better get dressed.

Melon, on their knees: Master ~ it currently 1:14pm. Time for your daily bi-hourly head

Loser Reader: My wha- [ziiip] Fuck, wait-

Loser Reader, attempting to flirt: you are a moderately attractive person and in the case I snap and kill everyone - I'd go on the run and change my name with you... or save you for last. How was that?

Melon, wiping fakes tears: You have such a beautiful way with words, master

Stranger: Oh, hello- Is Y/n home? We meet online at while ago and they gave me their addresses in case I visit because I only live an hour away

Melon: Hmph, can you pleasure my master while rearranging their game library in alphabetical order at the same time? I think not. Good-bye!

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere #yandere android #yandere robot

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theclaravoyant · 12 days ago

Note

for bucktommy prompt: tommy's sibling/s

AN ~ ooh, I had fun with this one. and by fun i mean have some mild angst ft tommy past and protective buck. unfortunately no actual tommy in this one, but he's very present.

tw for implied (off screen & non graphic) fdv

Read on AO3

~1300wd, Rated T.

title is extremely loosely inspired by some of the press for upcoming eps, so one could consider this spec?, but def no spoilers

baggage

“Can I help you?” Bobby asks, and the visitor – who, like most visitors, is trying not to let on how awed she is by the enormous engines that stretch out before her – adjusts her grip on her handbag and smiles.

“Thank you, yes. I'm looking for my brother. I understand he used to work here – Thomas Kinard?”

“Tommy? Not for a long time, I'm sorry,” Bobby replies.

The woman's chest falls in obvious disappointment, but she battles through it. “Is there anyone here who could get a message to him? It's really important, but... he's been ignoring my calls.”

Something tells him, she means more than for just a day or two. Bobby presses his lips together in contemplation. He doesn't know Tommy all that well, but he does know estrangement. He knows Buck – and exactly how the man's hackles of protectiveness go up at any mention of Tommy's rather enigmatic family. But he knows remorse, too. And grief, and complicated love. Buck does too. So he prays for the Good Lord to bless the hotshot with some sense, and hollers for him.

It's not long before Buck clamours down the stairs, already protesting - “I swear, I didn't say it!” - but the words die on his lips. He'd recognise that jawline anywhere. Plus, Tommy's been tense lately; the missed calls, the weirdness about his mail... Pieces fall together, and his shoulders stiffen as the visitor holds out a hand for him to shake.

“Charlotte Kinard,” she offers. “Is there somewhere we could talk?”

Buck has heard of Charlotte once or twice – in the sense that, he's heard she exists, and that she and Tommy have hardly spoken since he moved out west a decade ago. He'd always kind of imagined her as a female Tommy; as if she'd walk in here in a tank top smeared with engine grease, going by 'Charlie', all deadpan humour and a cocky smile to be drawn out by the people that get her. The preppy soccer mum look she's got going on instead is something of a surprise, but weirdly, she still is kind of a female Tommy. They've got the same chin, the upright carriage, even the same colour hair, although hers has been straightened to within an inch of its life. Irony. Buck reminds himself they also share the same father, and so some of the same baggage, so he fights a scowl and tries to remind himself to be nice.

“So,” she asks once they're settled upstairs. “How do you know my brother? Did you work together?”

“...Something like that.”

Charlotte gives him a strange, scrutinising look – one that Buck is still getting used to – and he braces himself, unsure of where this conversation is going to go. In his head he rehearses so many other anwers. Biblically, he wishes he'd said, just to spite her,as springs to mind a particularly steamy moment from the morning's shower. Intimately. He knows how the man likes his eggs. That he has a soft spot for rom coms. That his ankles are more ticklish than his feet – and that exploiting that fact is liable to get one kicked with the strength of a horse. Better than you do, is what it comes down to.

“It's okay,” she promises uncertainly. “I know, about him.”

A bitter laugh escapes his attempt. “You don't know him.”

“He's my brother.”

“He's my boyfriend.”

For a moment, they reach an impasse. Buck readies himself for more pushback, but all he gets is another very Tommy moment where he watches an argument flicker over her face and she clenches her jaw ever so slightly and refuses to voice it.

“Regardless,” she says, even though it's very much the entire reason they're the ones having this conversation, “I wondered if you might pass on some news for me.”

Don't be an ass, Evan, Tommy's voice reminds him. He holds those gentle, quiet eyes in his mind. This is for Tommy, not for him.

“Sure.”

Charlotte puts a navy blue, modestly glossed flier down on the table and slides it across to him. The top line reads:

In Loving Memory of Colonel Thomas James Kinard

Buck feels his heart clench. He can still hear the way Tommy says his father's name, full of contempt. He's only ever heard it insincerely trotted out in a put-on voice or under a mock salute, Colonel Thomas James Kinard. For all the pain the man has caused Tommy, Buck has tried a time or two to prod something darker, more honest out of him. Catharsis and all that, right? He almost smiles down at the flier. Ding, dong, the witch is dead.

But he notices Charlotte is crying.

Not crying-crying. Kinard crying. The kind of crying where it's mostly an internal waterfall. Where you don't offer a tissue; the highest form of comfort is that you pretend you haven't noticed. Buck really wasn't built for stoicism, but he's getting the hang of speaking its language. He clears his throat of all the snarky shit, and his shoulders drop a little. It's hard to stay defensive, in the face of Kinard-crying.

“Yeah,” he manages. “I'll pass it on.”

“We're having a service next week.”

“I … don't think he'll come.”

“We'll pay to fly him out,” Charlotte promises. “He just has to answer the phone.”

“That's not the issue.”

You remember, right? Buck wants to prod her. You remember what that man did to you guys?

She seems, if anything, surprised that he knows. Not that he knows every deep dark moment of it all, but he's been let in on some things, and a bit of her own defensiveness seems to fall away as if assured that maybe he does know her brother after all. Still, she squirms a little, under the naked unexpected sympathy.

“Our father had his flaws,” Charlotte objects. “But he was only doing what he thought was right. Our father loved us.”

Buck shakes his head. “That's not love, Charlotte.”

His heart breaks for her a little, not unlike it did for Maddie remembering all the times she'd brushed off Doug's red flags; in denial, at least at first, of how he was eating her up inside and out. There's an echo in it too, of his own relationship with his parents. They've reached a sort of a truce these days, with time and communication and them trying to be in Jee's life and all, but he still remembers it all too well: that raw, scalding feeling like nothing he ever did was good enough. He's spent many a night contemplating how it must have gone for Tommy.

I'm terrible at football. Love me anyway.

I cried when Artax died. Love me anyway.

Dad, I'm gay. Love me anyway.

Love me anyway.

“Tell him anyway?” Charlotte insists. She takes something from her bag – a little blue butterfly keychain? - and leaves it on top of the memorial flier. “Tell him... Lottie says please.”

Then, brooking no further argument, nor pity, she gathers herself up, shakes her hair out smooth again over her shoulders, and heads downstairs. Questions swirl through Buck's brain; about the butterfly, and Lottie, and how she'd said it like Tommy will know what it means. He wonders, not for the first time, about Tommy's other lives and how much he has still to learn about the man.

Behind him, Eddie knocks on the bannister to break his concentration.

“Everything okay?”

Buck looks at the memorial flier; into the dark eyes and the trademark Kinard jawline of the man who had raised Tommy – who had scarred Tommy – and he wonders what he's just agreed to put his boyfriend through. He takes a deep breath.

“Yeah,” he says. “I've just got to make a call.”

#evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #tv: 911 #911 fic #clara's fic tag #ask me stuff #prompt me stuff

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tarjapearce · 4 months ago

Text

Regarding Stealing and plagiarism by Fangweaver99/Miorjah

WARNING: LOTS AND LOTS OF TEXT AND PROOFS OF PLAGIARISM.

For a brief context to those that don't know, on June 20th I was notified through this post that there was a story that contained awfully simmilar ideas of my fic, Of Flowers and Humminfbirds. An idea that has been out for almost a year both here and A03.

As some of you may know, plagiarism has been part of my stance on this website. Not once, not twice, but thrice now with my stories.

However, as I said before, I will NOT tolerate more of this disrespectful behavior towards my work. The user in the post provided some proofs as you can see. However I took the liberty to see with my own eyes that not only some ideas were copied/tweaked. but also, parts of my fic that revolves mostly on the events of chapter 1,2 and 3 of OFAHB were taken.

Also, this is NOT an open invitation to harass them. Mind you, before I get accused of it again.

To starters, I'd like to clarify some things that might not be clear to people. Fangweaver themselves told me they had NEVER read my fanfiction, only my other work, called Miguelverse. Their friend approached me first with this BIG fat lie.

"They haven't read your fanfiction"

Now, If they haven't read it, why their name showed up in my kudos notification mail on MAY 5TH 2024? And their fic A Minor Slip Up was posted on 2024-06-15? Proof A:

Proof B: (If you go to my A03 profile on my fic, you can see it for yourself that their name is there.)

2. False accusations of harrasment done by their friend qphelia : Proof A:

Which was the opposite, as my ask box got filled by the same people over and over. (You can see it in my profile if you scroll down enough, along some claims they've done)

Proof B: (Didn't you just say that they were getting harrassed already?)

Which I did, they reached out an hour later, saying exactly the same.

Now regret of not reading their outline, cause they did send it. I was too angry to look at it.

Now. The plagiarism.

As most of you know, Comic Miguel is a cheater. He cheated on Xina Kwan with Dana D'Angelo, but he NEVER cheats on Dana. Some may say, "Yes, that has been done before where Miguel cheats on Dana" and you're right. However, cheating SPECIFICALLY on her in a gala, hosted by Alchemax and having sex in a workplace space, Isn´t canonical nor generic. It's from my authorship.

Of Flowers and Hummingbirds Chapter 1, Miguel and Reader Meeting and mentions of cheating:

Proof A, B & C of Fangweaver's fic, on Chapter 2 & 4:

A not so subtle hint to my 'underpaid receptionist' reader.

The span of time working for Alchemax. I know it sounds stupid, but it's there. Even that got used.

OFAHB Chapter 1:

Fangweaver's fic synopsis and proof A:

The Smut. You might think this is getting ridiculous but, it isn't.

In OFAHB chapter 1 There is a fingering scene, and some other dialogues that got tweaked/cherrypicked.

Fangweaver's fic on chapter 3:

Now, you think that's it but, sadly no.

In the aftermath of the cheating sex, in my fic, OFAHB chapter 1, they share a moment where reader falls to the floor and look for her panties. Then, they clean themselves up.

in Fangweaver's fic on chapter 4:

The reader's pregnancy suspicion:

On chapter 2 of OFAHB, Reader is struck with a nausea wave she thinks its food poisoning at first, then she faints and goes to Alchemax clinic where she is handed vitamins and a pregnancy test:

In Fangweaver's fic on chapter 7:

The confession:

OFAHB Chapter 3: Miguel and reader share a heated arguement, hinting at the baby isn't his.

On Fangweaver's fic, chapter 6:

----

Update: They've changed the synopsis of their work.

I could name a few more but in truth, it's pointless when the obvious is there. Sadly I've been pushed to put disclaimers in each of my stories, cause of this. It shouldn't happen, since we're supposed to be adults, knowing what's right and what's wrong. And if you know thievery is wrong, why doing it?

Credits won't be given because they know what they've done. What truly angered me were the accusations of harassment, and the OBVIOUS cynism on their end. Which reminds me, these three people are involved in the creation of that fic.

Although I know that there is no way to protect my work from people like this, it's truly discouraging for me as a content creator to have this sort of experiences in the fandom.

CREDIT ALWAYS . Don't go for the easy way. Don't disrespect people just for dumb shit as views and popularity.

-T.

#talking with t✨#personal post #plagiarism

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newkatzkafe2023 · 2 months ago

Note

So, How would the Wukong's react to S/O doing something kinda big for them. Like, they've been gone all day and come home to their partner making a dinner date and making sure everything's set up for them to relax together?

Awwww Date night🌹🥂💋💒

(Lmk Wukong) Oh he missed you terribly, you told him you were leaving early for work and that you would be late. Wukong was cool with it but hours and hours and hours later he saw it was it was getting late and he started to miss you, occasionally leaving texts you told him the same thing until you told him to meet him at the park. Wukong was very confused and soon he flew to the park and saw that....

A picnic😮!! Wukong gasped as you said surprise. He teared up and blushed and ran to hug you, he said thank you and he loves you as he sat with you on your date.

(MKR Wukong) He's in one of his moods, he woke up and saw that you weren't next to him. That already pissed him off because you didn't even leave a note. He of course ask if the pilgrims the saw you and they said no, pigsy teasing that maybe we got Tired of him which in return , he got a bruise shin. Luckily Fruity told him that we just went out and that will be back later, Which successfully calm him down. After a while you came back and he was ready to Interrogate you, when you told him that you had a surprise for him. Wukong was confused when he followed you later that night and saw a....

tea shop with a table outside, you told him that it was something nice to do since he's been moody and stress lately. He did look grumpy but the blush tells you he likes it😉😊

(HIB Wukong) You were gone the whole day, and ask Luier and Pigsy to distract Wukong which you went out with Silly girl. It worked for a bit since Luier's motor mouth was useful for once, but he was quick to notice that you weren't there and neither was silly girl. He would have freaked out, if you came back with Silly girl that Exact Second. He was relieved until you put a blindfold on him and told him that you were going somewhere, which confused him and felt you pulling him along. Then after a bit you told him to take of his blindfold and saw....

Fireworks?! you took him to see fireworks, a surprise date, for just the 2 of you. Wukong was stunned, but he pulled you close as a silent thank you.

(NR Wukong) He's pouting all over the garage. You had left for work in the morning which is ok whatever to him but it's around 5 and your still not home. He called and texted you a few times but he only got Voice-mail or has been left on read, now he rarely gets upset with you but it's slowly getting there until you ran in the garage excited. Wukong was Confused, relieved, but still a bit upset with you until you told him...

(You) WUKONG I GOT THE TICKETS!!!!🤩🤩🤩🤩

(Wukong) Tickets??? Tickets for what???🤨

You pulled out the tickets for...

(You) THE DEMOLITION DERBY BABY!!!!!!! PREPARE TO SPEND THE WEEKEND WATCHING CARS EXPLODE!!!!!!!!! I GOT FRONT ROW SEATS TOO!!!!!!!🤩🥳🤯

Wukong felt his anger disappear into thin air, And replace with excitement,Well that explains Why you did so much overtime for your job😊😊😊😊

(Netflix Wukong) He noticed something was missing, Something that's always supposed to be there. Or more like it became part of his life, and because of this feeling Wukong felt empty. He then went to tell Lin about this emotion and emptiness until she asked

(Lin) Did you see (Y/N) yet????

Then it hit him He didn't know if he talked to you at all today, he didn't even remember seeing you and you guys live in the same house. Wukong thanked Lin and went to look for you but he couldn't find you anywhere. He then slowly begin to panic as he had no idea where you are, he freaked out and teared up his thoughts being. Why didn't I pay attention?! What if she's hurt?! What if she got kidnapped?! What if she got sick of me and....abandoned me??😥🥺😭 Wukong Try to remain rational while stopping himself from crying. Then he noticed something on the cabinet, he ask ran and ask Lin to read it for him and it saids,

Wukong meet me by the market at 3 I have a surprise for you🙂

It was currently around 2:45 or something But he was too anxious to wait. So he left the house and went looking for you, he got to the market and saw you, and is that a CARNIVAL?!🎡

You greeted him and told him that a fair was In town and you wanted to spend the day with him in it. Wukong ran over and quickly hugged you tightly, happy to see you, feeling his heart slow down a bit Upon being in your presence. After that you both went in to have a blast😄🎊🎉

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG💋

#monkey king netflix #monkey king reborn #monkey king x reader #nezha reborn #lmk monkey king #monkey king hero is back #x female y/n #date night

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coffeeghoulie · 1 month ago

Text

Ghostober Day 8: Hands Free Orgasm

Much thanks to @kroas-adtam for putting Ghostober together this year <3

Pairing: Aurora/Aeon

Aeon learns that Aurora has two things: a new strap, and a commitment to seeing things through.

Explicit, 1k. Contains begging, praise, light bondage, and talks of voyeurism.

divider by @wrathofrats <3

"Shit, Rory, please," Aeon gasps, their fingers curling into fists as they tug at the fuzzy cuffs around their wrists, soft sheets under them as they squirm. Aurora laughs sweetly, bending down to kiss the tip of their nose.

"I would, but you promised me you'd at least try," she says lightly. She doesn't even sound affected, even as her hips jackhammer into Aeon's, humping like a bunny into their ass. "I wanted to see you do it."

Aeon gasps, their mismatched eyes rolling back into their head as her strap rubs something inside of them that makes them see stars. When Aurora had cornered them after dinner, whispering about plans, this was the furthest thing from their mind.

It was a pleasant surprise when she'd corralled them into her nest asking to try something new. "I got a package in the mail today, you wanna help me break it in?" She'd smiled coyly, and now Aeon finds themself like this: on their back, hands tied to her headboard, surrounded by plushies and pillows as she grins down at them.

Her brand new strap sinks deep inside of them, the silicone a marbled blue and lavender. It matches the soft leather harness on her hips, baby blue against the pale grey of her skin. "Come on, shadow, I want you to cum on my strap," She asks, the same tone of voice that will get any one of her packmates to do anything for her if it's paired with a flutter of lashes and a smile.

Aeon wants to, they really fucking want to. Their cock is hard and leaking against their hip, jumping with each press of the strap into their body. It curves up to reach all of the right places, ridges lining the shaft. "Rory, please let me touch," they gasp, their one good eye darting across her face, down to where her perky little tits bounce as she fucks them, the jewelry threaded through her nipples glinting in the light.

Aurora shakes her head, laughing sweetly. No cruelty in her tone, but it still stings. "That'd defeat the purpose of you cumming on my strap, though," she says, her breath hitching as the base presses against her clit in a way that must feel spectacular.

They shudder as the bulbous head of the strap drags along their prostate, cock blurting a little more pre into the line of their hip. The puddle shines with the string lights Aurora has up around her bed. It makes Aeon's head spin.

Aurora's nails dig into their hips, their scents sweet and cloying with their shared arousal, cut through with iron. Aeon's too out of it to register the pain of her nails breaking skin. All they know is their cock is fucking aching, a deep, ruddy purple at the tip, slit shiny with pre.

Aeon sobs out a cry as she nails their prostate. "Oh, come on, I know you can do it, look, your cock wants to cum so bad," she says encouragingly, running a sharp-tipped finger through the puddle of precum.

Their cock twitches, her finger so close to the head that they can feel her body heat. "Aurora, please," they gasp, hips bucking instinctively. The cuffs rattle against her headboard.

"Oh, come on, Aeon," she coos, fucking them harder. "I know you can do it, I can keep going as long as you need until you can."

Aeon sobs, eyes rolling back into their head. That's not a threat, it's a promise. Aurora's never been one to back down from something once she's set her mind to it. And tonight, she's set her mind on making Aeon cum untouched. Even though they've never been able to do it before.

They tug on the cuffs, tears starting to well up in their eyes as Aurora subjects them to mindless, endless pleasure. Her eyes flutter at a particularly rough shove into their ass, the base of the strap rubbing against her clit. Aeon can smell her slick smearing down her thighs, sweet lavender and strawberries flooding their senses.

"You're taking it so well, Aeon, you're being so good and helping me break this in," she coos, gasping for breath as her hips piston. For such a small ghoulette, she sure packs a lot of force. She leans in, draping herself over their sweaty chest, incredibly careful not to touch their cock. "How 'bout this?"

Aeon yelps as she takes one of their nipples between dainty fingers, careful not to press the points of her sharp, painted claws too hard into the sensitive nub. "Rory," Aeon yelps, mismatched eyes going wide at the bite of stimulation. The bulbed tip of the strap drags against their prostate, and Aeon bites their lip hard to muffle a cry. Their balls ache.

"If you cum for me, without me touching your dick," she adds on, nibbling at their ear lobe. "I'll let you watch the next time I use this. I think Mount will really like this one. You wanna see me put him on his knees for it? He loves letting me take control of him the way I'm doing to you. Cum for me and I'll show you how much he likes it. He might even suck your dick while I do it. Don't you wanna see?"

"O-oh, fuck," Aeon groans, feeling something swoop in their stomach. The tension that's been plateauing inside of them for what feels like forever suddenly begins to ramp up. "Rory, please don't stop, oh shit, I think- I think I'm gonna-"

The grin that splits Aurora's face as she pulls back from their ear is so shark-like that it rivals Rain's. Her teeth flash in the lamplight, the gills on the sides of her throat flaring with exertion. "Come on, Aeon, that's it, show me," she says, adjusting the angle until she's nailing their prostate with each quick thrust.

Aeon's eyes go wide and their back bows up off of her bed, pulling hard at the cuffs. The last thing they hear before their mind whites out with a rush of overwhelming pleasure is Aurora's delighted laughter as she makes them cum.

#gonna try something a little different with the tags today #just to see smth #dot's writing #aeon/aurora #aeon ghoul #aurora ghoulette #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost #ghost fanfiction

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