#oh did i mention vacation has to be scheduled two weeks in advance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jeonggukingdom · 5 years

Note

For the would you rather smut thing if you're still doing it. Would you rather have Yoongi make you ride him, or do it with Jungkook under a blanket with the other members in the room?

❖ Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader x Yoongi (I couldn’t resist, ok?)

❖ Genre: Smut (honestly this is just PWP)

❖ Word Count: 7.284 words

❖ WARNINGS: graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, voyeurism, masturbation, oral (giving & receiving), fingering, dirty talk, public sex, unprotected sex, threesome.

❖ Tag List: @i-purple–you - @superioryoonkook

Your annual Harry Potter marathon would usually occur around the middle of December, most likely around the 23rd if not right on Christmas Eve and it has been this way for as long as you can remember since the very last movie came out.

This year, though, with two of your friends being out of the country during the holidays, you found yourself with the unusual proposition of indulging in the tradition in the middle of August.

Now, staying inside an apartment with eight of you sprawled around one room, sharing couches, carpets and whatnots for almost 20 hours with the scorching heat outside seeping in the apartment didn’t sound very inviting at first. At all.

That is still the case as you ring the door and begrudgingly walk inside the apartment as it slides open, welcoming you inside.

As you step inside Jimin’s house—the designated host for this year’s marathon—though, you find the ambient absolutely icy.

“What the actual fuck? It’s freezing in here!”

Jimin flashes you one of his eye smiles, his long sleeves now making perfect sense as the cold air hits your shoulders, making you shiver almost instantly.

Your friend’s lips purse into a wicked grin and he opens his arms wide to officially welcome you inside his apartment as if this were your first time being there when, in truth, you’ve been here practically every single day this week.

“I wanted to create the illusion, you know?” He raises his eyebrows a few times, looking at you expectantly as if waiting for your approval.

The glinting light in his eyes prompts you to take a look around and you finally notice what he has been working on for, most likely, the entire day.

Jimin has turned his entire apartment—or at least the portion of it you can see from the hallway—into his very own rendition of a classical Christmas house out of a movie.

His teal walls have been decorated with silver and white snowflakes, there is an actual giant Christmas tree in the far corner of the living room, winter-themed pillows and covers on the couch and on the floor, you can even hear the faint sound of Christmas’ carols playing in the background and not to mention the freshly baked cookies waiting for all of you on the table in front of the flat TV screen.

You can easily make out the shapes of snowmen, Christmas trees, snowflakes, literally anything that has to do with winter and, on top of that, all of the Harry Potter-inspired sweets and beverages lying around next to them.

It is the snacks galore and your mouth literally waters at the thought of munching on all of them for the entirety of the day.

Honestly, if you didn’t know any better, it would be easy to believe it is actually December and you’ll have to exchange gifts once midnight strikes, just like every other year.

“You are absolutely nuts,” you exclaim as you re-focus your attention on your beaming friend.

He tilts his head a little to the side and raises his shoulders in that adorable way that tells you he is pretty proud of himself. And damn, he should.

You have no idea how he pulled all of this off in just one day, all by himself, and that is what prompts you to follow him further inside his house and let your eyes skim around the room once more to pick up even more little details.

You can see little flags with the Hogwarts houses spread around the main room, the plates and glasses are decorated with the houses’ banners as well, there are tiny wands on the table next to the beverages that have you assuming they must be straws.

“Where did you find all this stuff?” You ask, your mouth agape as you lift your gaze to stare at Jimin and his slightly pinker cheeks.

“Oh well… I may have planned this a little in advance.”

You scoff at his words but are cut off in your mocking by the deep shiver that runs down your spine as the cold breeze coming from the air-conditioner hits the small of your naked back again.

Clearly, you are severely under-dressed for the temperature set by your friend in this place and you find yourself hugging yourself in order to preserve some warmth and not actually freeze to death in the middle of summer.

You glance up at your boyfriend standing next to you, his eyes glinting as if he were a child in Disneyland.

Jeongguk is the one that insists every year with your tradition, he is the ultimate Harry Potter fan and he just loves Christmas and when it comes to excitement about your annual tradition, he is second only to Jimin.

A small smile forms on your lips as you watch his eyes glinting with happiness and eagerness for your marathon to actually begin.

You bite your bottom lip as you look around the room, trying to decide which spot would be the best for you to claim for the rest of the day and when another shiver runs through your body, raising goosebumps on your tepid skin, you decide to dash for the couch and the warmth the duvet placed on top of it promises to provide.

Jeongguk’s body falls right next to you on the couch quickly after, his mouth unsurprisingly already filled with the sweet treats Jimin prepared.

You roll your eyes at him as he quirks his eyebrows at you, offering you a handful of cookies to kill time as you wait for the rest of your friends to show up.

It is the crack of dawn and you know, most people would consider all of you absolutely nuts—and they’d honestly be right about it—but in reality, this is about your only chance of spending actual time together as a group like you did when you went to school together.

With your busy schedules, your jobs, the trips and the vacations and the obligations towards families and such, the annual marathon has turned into your only chance in the entire year to relish and indulge in each other’s presence.

In some ways, this special day of the year feels like the possibility of catching up with everyone and make up with all the time lost.

The doorbell rings a few minutes after your arrival and a smile immediately spreads on your lips as you welcome your friends as they slowly arrive, one after the other.

Some come bearing gifts in the form of even more food and drinks, some have brought blankets with them as if they already knew Jimin would pull something like this and some arrived with ragged breaths and red puffy eyes as a token of the forced early rise from bed on an otherwise peaceful weekend.

You smile at Seokjin and Namjoon as they not-so-lightly let themselves fall on the small armchairs next to the couch, their hands and mouths already full with butter pop-corns.

Right next to you and Jeongguk plops a very tired-looking Yoongi—if the yawn and the dark circles are anything to go by—and as Taehyung and Hoseok claim two of the three warm sleeping bags at your feet, Jimin turns off all the lights except for the Christmas tree and a few candles.

The dim lights help with creating the atmosphere and maybe it’s the nice cosiness of the couch or maybe it’s just that you already feel slumberous but, as Jimin eagerly starts playing the first movie, you find your body relaxing and your head resting against Jeongguk’s shoulder.

You all quickly fall into the usual pattern: a few jokes here and there, some comments on the most memorable scenes, the inevitable pauses to use the bathroom or have a proper meal all together, for once. Simply, the usual.

As night starts to fall and your attention starts to dwindle, you find yourself leaning even more on Jeongguk, seeking his warmth, his embrace, the sensation of his fingers intertwined with yours.

Jeongguk’s eyes glint in the dim light as they focus on you every time you require his attention; his smile deepens whenever you reach out and kiss him on the cheek or his inviting lips; his hands search the supple curves of your hips and pull you towards him every time you readjust your position on the couch and get a little too far away from him for his liking.

It is only by the time midnight strikes and you all start to feel drowsy with sleep that Jeongguk’s hands turn needier, requesting access to places that should be forbidden when you are so close to your friends they could see or hear anything happening between the two of you.

You glare at him whenever he pushes his luck a little too much and he chuckles under his breath every single time, shaking his head a little but still getting a shred of what he was seeking in the first place.

You simply cannot resist him and the temptations he throws your way and oh, you can bet your ass he knows this very well.

There is absolutely nothing Jeongguk can’t make you do if he wants it bad enough and you hate how pliable you are under his touch sometimes.

Tonight, it appears to be one of those nights and the sentiment only grows stronger as he manages to sneak one of his hand under your jean shorts.

Your body reacts almost immediately to the sensation of his fingers ghosting over your clothed sex and it takes all of your strength not to whimper out loud and let everybody else in the room know what your boyfriend is up to under the duvet covering both of your bodies.

Jeongguk’s eyes shine with mischief as you turn towards him, panic written all over your face as he bites his bottom lip and palms the expanse of your sex.

What are you doing? You would be hissing right about now if you could.

He looks at you with the most innocent gaze he can muster whilst a naughty smirk twists his mouth creating an overwhelming juxtaposition between his angelic features and the devilish intentions he has.

Oh, Jeongguk is really up to no good and as his long fingers start tracing the expanse of your covered sex, you find yourself unable to pull away from his lewd offer.

As you gulp down heavily, he slips his digits past the hem of your underwear, seeking access to the hot flesh underneath.

You take in a sharp breath, goosebumps rising all over your skin as you look around the room in panic.

What if they hear you? What if they see what you two are doing?

Fear clutches your heart, making it pump faster in your chest and you can deny it all you want to but, deep down, you know just as much as he does that laced between those frightening thoughts lies the excitement over the idea of getting caught, of being naughty in a room full of people that could very easily discover the both of you if you were to emit even the smallest of sounds.

You bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from sighing for him as he traces your core with his gentle fingers, caressing the flesh to coax the beginnings of arousal out of you.

His eyes are pointedly fixed on the TV screen now as if he were deeply concentrated on the movie playing in front of you whilst you, on the other hand, struggle to even keep your eyes open as his fingertips reach the trigger to your pleasure and draw deep and slow figures eight on it.

You gulp down heavily as you start to feel your limbs tingling with desire, your body warming up quickly under his simple yet intoxicating touch.

Your eyes open and fix on Jeongguk’s calm face as he keeps staring ahead whilst his fingers start to trace your slit, curling a little as if trying to move past your lips and intrude your sex but never getting quite there.

You would protest if you could but you are forced to bite down your bottom lip and keep yourself as silent as possible.

A shiver runs down your spine as his fingers trace your lips next, his digits already coated with your arousal.

Jeongguk turns towards you, a little smirk on his mouth and his eyes shining with cockiness.

You’re already so wet for me and I didn’t even touch you properly yet, his gaze seems to say and you gulp down again, your eyebrows knitting together as you look up at him with pleading eyes.

You know how much he loves to tease, to make you beg for his touch but it would be so cruel of him to do it here as well when you can’t even voice out your needs to him, admit them out loud and coax him into giving you what you so desperately need.

As if reading your thoughts, Jeongguk tilts his head a little to the side and with a slow drag of his hand from the apex of your sex to your very core, he pushes one of his fingers past your lips and masterfully curls it inside of you.

Your walls react to the intrusion almost instantly, contracting and then expanding around the digit as they welcome it further, allowing him to seek and reach your pleasure spot.

Your eyes flutter shut again as he retrieves his digit only to push it right back in again to mock the way he’d gladly move his cock inside of you.

The arousal starts oozing out of you, tainting your underwear and sticking to the soft fabric between your bottom cheeks whilst he picks up some speed, eager to sweep you off your feet.

The bottom lip trapped under the vice of your teeth almost splits as you try with all your might to gulp down a contented sigh as he curls his finger again, the tip of his digit pressing right on your pleasure spot.

You start to fear soon your friends will be able to catch on the sounds of your wet mound as Jeongguk fucks you with his godly finger and if he fears the same, he doesn’t show it at all. In fact, as you quiver a little under his touch, he takes the chance to slip another finger inside of you and immediately scissor the pair of them to stretch your walls even further.

Your mouth opens in a silent moan, your back arching a little at the sensation of being claimed like this, with just the tip of two fingers and a palm pressed right on top of your clitoris.

He starts rotating his hand atop your sex, his fingers circling inside of you alongside the rest of his palm, sending jolts of electricity to run through your body.

It turns exceptionally easy for Jeongguk to bring you down like this, making you quiver and snap in utter silence just like when you were still living with your parents and needed to be quiet not to be discovered as you pleasured yourself.

Your body shakes as the blissful wave of your orgasm rushes down from your head to your core like a waterfall, turning your body scorching hot to the touch.

Sweat beads your forehead and slides down your neck as you try to catch up your breath without being too loud.

Your eyes are fixed on Jeongguk as he smiles wickedly at you, his eyes glinting in the dim light as he retrieves his hand only to guide it to his open mouth.

You watch transfixed as he trains his fingers to his tongue and pointedly licks his digits just to taste your pleasure.

You can’t believe he is actually doing this with your friends inside the room, with Yoongi sitting so close to him their shoulders could be touching if only one of them would move a few inches to the side.

It is so lewd and unbelievable and yet so exciting.

Your body seems to turn even hotter at the thought of doing just the same to him, of bringing him down in the midst of your annual marathon. The thought gets so loud in your head you almost reach his jeans to unbutton them and claim him right on the spot.

What stops you, though, is Jimin getting on his feet to switch on the lights and announce another bathroom break before the last movie starts and you all fall asleep on your spots right after.

You stare up at your boyfriend in disbelief as he winks at you as he gets up to use the bathroom, calmly leaving your side as if nothing has just happened between the two of you.

You envy how nonchalant he can be, the way he portrays himself in a group of people, the assured aura that shines all around him and follows him wherever he goes.

You, on the other hand, have nothing of the sort and that is why you stay perfectly still in your cocoon of covers and cushions, waiting patiently for the lights to be dimmed again and for the attention of everybody else to be switched over to the tv-screen again rather than their surroundings.

It almost feels like sin is written all over your face with a mark so deep and red everyone could see it if they were to stare at you just a little longer, if they took the time to notice your blown irises or the way you keep touching your cheeks in the vain attempt of cooling them down a little bit.

It must be all in your head though because none of your friends seems to catch on your lewd activities and thoughts and, well, even if they did, none of them says anything about it but, it is still with utter relief that you welcome back everyone in their seats as the last movie begins to roll before your eyes.

Truth be told, you do not pay much attention to the movie, even if you’d like to.

You are distracted by Jeongguk’s proximity, by the way his thigh keeps rubbing against your own, by his hand on your shoulder as he hugs you tight to his chest. Even his perfume is incredibly distracting now and all you can think about is running your hands through his dark long locks, kiss his mouth until he moans and fuck him hard until he is crying your name out loud.

The movie seems to stretch forever and you start to get a little fidgety on the couch, slightly rubbing your thighs together as you are filled with the desire of being intimate with your boyfriend. It’s like the recent orgasm has lit you up on fire instead of quenching a thirst you had no idea was hiding within you.

Jeongguk is quick to catch on to your restlessness, the way you keep seeking his mouth to plant small and innocent kisses there since that is all you can afford in your current situation and you can actually see him smirking in the dim light, his eyes still shining with mischief as he hugs you a little bit tighter to his chest as a silent promise of taking good care of you very very soon.

It’s the middle of the night when the movie comes to an end and it is not a surprise that all of your friends and your boyfriend all quickly pass out around you, falling in the arms of Morpheus as soon as the TV-screen is off and the room completely held in darkness except for the lamplights filtering through the blinds.

Sleep, though, escapes you. There is that burning need still present in your stomach making it impossible for you to close your eyes and give in into the tiredness after being awake for so many hours, sitting pretty much in the same position on the same damn couch.

Oh, you would gladly welcome the embrace of a good night of sleep but, alas, it doesn’t seem to be an option until you find a way to satisfy that need.

“Are you asleep?” You ask in a whisper as you turn towards your boyfriend to stare at his peaceful face.

A smile spreads on Jeongguk’s face as he slowly opens his eyes to focus them on you, his head titled a little to the side so that he can stare right at you.

“What if I’m not?” He asks, turning towards you with a daring look on his features.

His hands easily find the supple curve of your ass and immediately squeeze your cheeks to bring you closer to him, so close you are forced to rest your legs on top of his thighs in order to fit in on the couch and not fall off of it on top of your friends’ heads.

“I believe we have unfinished business to deal with,” you retort, raising your eyebrows suggestively as you start tracing his lips with your index finger.

“Do we, now?” He whispers back as his back lifts from the couch so that he can plant a small kiss on your lips and gather goosebumps all over your skin.

You are one hundred percent sure he had been waiting for this, he had been pretending to be fast asleep just so you would make the first move.

It seems like, yet again, you have fallen in his trap but when it promises to feel immensely great, do you really have it in you to complain about it?

Jeongguk’s fingers hastily move from your ass up to the button of your shorts and without wasting any more seconds, he unfastens it and removes the garment from your legs, barely minding where they land as he throws them behind your back.

You hiss at the sensation of his fingers playing with your mound anew, toying with the hem of your still-soaked underwear as he teases you just enough to make you bite his bottom lip in retaliation.

Jeongguk’s soft chuckle sends shivers down your spine and you have to stifle a moan as he swiftly enters your core with two of his digits, stretching you just as nicely as he did a few hours ago.

His mouth seeks the spot right under your ear that he knows drives you absolutely insane and you find yourself closing your eyes, abandoning yourself to the sensation of his amazing touch not caring one bit about your sleeping friends all around you.

“I want to taste your cock,” you whimper out and he is forced to cover your mouth with his free hand, his eyes warning you to be quiet because, despite the thrill of getting caught, this game can go on only as long as the people around you do not really catch on it.

You nod your head yes a few times for him and he lets you go with a smile spread on his features, his eyes dark with lust at the prospect of having you pleasure him like this, out in the open.

He unbuttons his jeans himself, lifting his ass just enough for the fabric of both his pants and underwear to move past the round curve of his muscular flesh and reveal his semi-hard cock to you.

You switch your position on the couch so that you can rest comfortably on your knees as you descend toward his sex whilst he covers you completely with the duvet, just in case anyone should wake for a few minutes and catch the sight of your head bobbing up and down.

Your mouth opens just enough to let your tongue out and as you lick the head of his cock you are pleased to hear him hiss at the sensation. It would seem like he isn’t as unbothered as he led you to believe throughout the night.

You smile and blow hot hair on his now glistening cock just to watch his body twitch and shiver.

One of his hands find purchase on your hair and he grasps them tightly, pulling on them to guide your head towards his sex and get what he was promised a minute ago.

You let out a soft chuckle but comply with his desires. You do not have the luxury of time tonight and you are just as eager as he is to give him pleasure and receive some in return.

Your mouth opens again but this time it is to envelop his hardening cock and as his grasp on your hair tightens, you know you are doing a very good job.

His dick twitches inside your mouth whenever you hollow your cheeks around it and it is only a matter of seconds before he is fully hard and ready to push into your mouth to seek his release.

You close your eyes and relax your jaw as the head of his cock starts ravishing your mouth as if it were your pussy. Saliva drips down your chin and it takes all of your efforts not to gulp down too loudly and keep the sounds as close to nothing as humanly possible.

Jeongguk softly calls your name as his hips start to stutter and slow down a little and you lift your head up to leave his cock before he is coming inside your mouth.

Your eyes are big as you lock at him with all the innocence you can muster whilst you pointedly lick your lips just to tease him a little further.

He groans and pulls on your hair to guide you upwards so that he can crash your lips on top of yours and suck on the tender flesh until you are hissing for him in both discomfort and pleasure.

“Come sit on my dick, baby,” he whispers, his voice retaining some of the neediness you can see reflected in his dark irises as his fingers let go of your poor hair.

“Gladly,” you say back as you lift yourself up and climb on top of him, your hands finding purchase on his toned chest as you do so.

“Not like this, turn around,” he says before planting a soft kiss on your temple, his hands on your hips helping you to reposition yourself.

Like this, you have a perfect vision of the entire room which means you can also check on your friends whilst your boyfriend claims your pussy over and over again after so many hours of anticipation.

You lift the duvet over your body to cover the way it is bound to bounce on top of your boyfriends and you lift your hips up a little, your thighs squeezing his hips as you wait for him to finally give you what your heart desires.

He guides your hips towards his own as slowly as he possibly can, not wasting the chance to tease you with the tip of his cock until you are on the verge of whining for him and make yourself known to everyone else in the room.

Breath gets stuck in your lungs as he finally moves past your folds, his head nicely covered with your juices so that he can easily push his entire length inside of you, inch after inch until you are sinking on top of him on your own accord, rejoicing in the way your walls stretch and welcome him further inside until he is completely lodged within you, filling you up to the very core.

Your eyes close as you start rotating your hips on top of his, biting your bottom lip to not let a single sound out.

Jeongguk’s hands on your hips tighten their grasp, his nails slightly digging into the flesh as he starts meeting your hips mimicking the pace you have set for yourself, eager to chase both of your releases down and finally quench both of your thirsts for each other.

You cannot contain the slight pants that escape your mouth just as much Jeongguk’s seems unable to push back his sighs of ecstasy at the way your walls contract around him every time he hits your pleasure spot.

There is also no hiding the squelching sounds of your core dripping with arousal nor the one his balls hitting your ass when you start sinking on him a little rougher in your pursue of utter elation.

You slowly open your eyes as your mouth parts in a silent moan of pure delectation as Jeongguk’s cock twitches inside of you and, as they re-focus on your surroundings, you find yourself staring at porcelain skin almost gleaming under the silvery light of the moon filtering through the blinds; a pair of beautiful charcoal eyes and a rosy mouth, slightly parted in astonishment.

Yoongi.

You lick your dry lips and then gulp down heavily as your gaze drifts off from his face to the way his slack body is slightly twisted in your direction, barely a few inches away from your parted legs.

Even in the dim light, there is no hiding that he is palming himself through the confinement of his dark denim jeans.

You tilt your head a little backwards and whisper your lover’s name loud enough for him to pick up on it and shift his attention from the vision of his cock disappearing inside your pussy to your surprised spectator.

Jeongguk slightly adjusts behind your back and hooks his chin on your shoulder, his eyes gleaming with mischief as they land on your friend.

“Hyung,” he says, but not in a scared or questioning tone but, rather, in an acknowledging one.

Yoongi’s mouth falls completely agape as you let go of the duvet tightly grasped in your hands whilst Jeongguk’s fingers hook the hem of your shirt and slowly lift it off of you, revealing your naked chest to your friend so that he can bask in the sight of your breasts exposed and bouncing as you rock on your lover’s delicious cock.

Jeongguk’s masterful fingers find the hot and sensitive flesh of your nipples and start pinching them into hardness making you flinch and sigh in pleasure.

Your eyes, though, are trained on Yoongi and the growing tent between his legs.

“Do you like what you s-see, Yoongi?” You whimper, your voice trembling with the effort to remain as quiet as possible whilst asking such a lewd question as Jeongguk keeps battering your core.

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses and quickly unbuttons his jeans to give himself some reprieve from the uncomfortable confinement.

“You can uh-” you gulp down again, your eyes closing as Jeongguk hits a pretty sensitive spot, cutting the air out of you in a single blow, “You can touch yourself if you wa-want.”

Yoongi’s mouth turns into a perfect “o” as he stares at you with his big eyes, his breath already ragged with the raw excitement your words and the sight of you like this provided.

He lifts his ass from the couch and pulls his boxer briefs down alongside his jeans with trembling hands, eagerness written all over his features and the way his body moves. His garments pool at his ankles and as his bottom cheeks hit the cold surface of the leather couch, he immediately wraps his hand around the base of his cock to give himself a few pumps, eliciting a whimper from your mouth and a sigh from his own.

You can’t help but openly stare at the angry red tip of his cock, at the way his fingers masterfully tease his sex until it is fully erected in all its glory.

You lick your lips a few times as if foretasting the way his girth would feel lodged inside your mouth, the way he would moan out loud the moment you’d start hollowing your cheeks around him, the bitter-sweet taste of his hot cum rushing down your throat and dripping off your chin.

Yoongi represents the forbidden fruit tonight and, much like Eve, you’d gladly have a taste of him if given the opportunity.

“Baby, can I?” You ask in a whisper, tilting your head a little backwards to seek your lover’s gaze. You try not to sound too eager but there is no hiding from Jeongguk and his eyes seem to darken with lust as he immediately catches on where your intentions truly lie.

He nods his head a couple of times in response and you smile at him before turning towards your friend and take him in a new.

With your index finger, you invite him closer and you watch him gulp down heavily before he follows your orders, his eyes hardly blinking, clearly unable to leave your face for more than a few seconds almost as if afraid this is all just a dream he may wake up from soon.

He tentatively glances behind your back to your boyfriend, his eyes searching his own with a silent request.

You hear Jeongguk taking in a sharp breath but you are not surprised when he nods his head yes again. This has been a fantasy of him for a little while now and you have indulged in the thought of having a threesome before. Tonight, it seems like the opportunity has finally risen for both of you to fulfil the burning desire.

Your heartbeat turns rampant in your chest as Yoongi moves on his knees so that he can stand in front of you and easily plant small kisses all over your chest.

Your mouth opens as his tongue moves past his lips and rolls over your left nipple, working it to hardness under his masterful ministrations.

You had fantasized before about Yoongi’s tongue, especially during that time where his ex-girlfriend had taken a liking in you and often confessed spicy bedroom details of her relationship with him to you.

Just as you indulge in the thought of Yoongi showing you what he is capable of, Jeongguk hits a particularly sensitive spot, making your head fall backwards.

Your breath hitches as Yoongi’s mouth envelopes your nipple completely and starts sucking on the tender flesh, turning you dizzy with pleasure and desire of having more.

With half-closed lids, you seek his now neglected cock in the darkness to wrap your fingers around it and offer some delight back to him.

You give him a few generous pumps that make him hiss beautifully against your now wet skin.

“I want to taste you, Yoongi,” you whisper out in a bold confession that turns your cheeks hot to the touch.Your eyes drink up the sight of him visibly shivering as he envisions you between his legs, pleasuring him to his heart’s content.

He gulps down heavily and falls on his ass again so that he can spread his legs for you and gladly welcome the blissful sensation of your mouth nicely wrapped around his needy cock.

“On your fours, baby,” Jeongguk whispers behind your back, pushing your forward so that you can fit right between Yoongi’s legs and still welcome his glorious dick inside your core.

Your eyes close as Jeongguk starts pounding into you a little rougher, the new position allowing him to reach the most pleasurable and private spots within your core.

Shallow breaths escape your mouth as you close your eyes to adjust to the new pace set between your legs by your doting boyfriend.

When you open your eyes again, Yoongi is staring at you with his big doe eyes, one of his hands firmly wrapped around his cock to pleasure himself at the same rhythm Jeongguk has chosen for the two of you.

You bite your bottom lip suggestively and Yoongi’s jaw slacks whilst his head falls a little backwards on the soft cushion of the couch, his eyes slightly closing as he stares at the way you slowly move your head down to meet his cock and welcome it inside your mouth.

The moment your lips wrap around his leaking head, his abdomen contracts and he is forced to cover his mouth to stifle the moan that menaces to escape from his parted lips.

His eyes fall close as you take him all down your throat with one swift movement, his pubic hair prickling your skin as you inhale loudly to hollow your cheeks around him and firmly press your tongue against the underside of his cock.

Your eyes close with the effort of keeping your cheeks so tight around him in the effort of mimicking the way your walls would contract all around him if he were deeply lodged inside your pussy and not inside your hot mouth.

Yoongi lets out a shallow breath and closes his eyes just as Jeongguk turns a little rougher inside of you, forcing your hips to meet his frantic speed and welcome his release deep within you.

The moment he starts pointedly battering your sweet spot without missing a single beat, you start bobbing your head furiously on top of Yoongi.

There is something absolutely intoxicating about having so much power over two men. Their pleasure is tightly bound to your own and the way you are giving yourself to them, the way Yoongi starts to rock his hips forward, matching his pace to the one Jeongguk has set behind your back and the way your boyfriend is claiming your pussy so ferociously bring you down with an overwhelming, intoxicating and blissful orgasm.

Your body trembles from head to toe as pleasure spreads all over your body like a wave inside a bay, the force of it leaving you absolutely breathless.

Your mind turns foggy, your hips slow down against Jeongguk’s and your mouth tightens around Yoongi’s cock as you struggle to keep yourself from moaning both of their names out loud.

The sensation of the orgasm washing over you, though, is absolutely nothing compared to the one of Yoongi’s hot cum running down your throat and Jeongguk’s one painting your walls in pearly white.

The panting sounds of the three of you quickly fill the room and it is truly a miracle how none of your friends catches up with the lewd sounds you have been allowing out of your mouths for the past few minutes.

It is in the utter silence that Yoongi voices out his next and final desire.

“Can I clean her up?” his voice is barely above a whisper, all hoarse and husky as he looks up at Jeongguk, his eyes eager to receive a positive response.

You lift your gaze as well to stare at your boyfriend as you gulp down heavily at the prospect of having Yoongi between your legs. Oh, you surely have not forgotten the tales Heeyeon had thrown your way about Yoongi’s legendary tongue.

“Just this time,” Jeongguk says, unable to conceal the slight hint of jealousy in his voice at the prospect of having another man claiming the most private part of your body.

He helps you lying down on the couch nonetheless, offering his thighs as a makeshift cushion to support your head whilst another man claims your sex in front of him.

His eyes are filled with lust as he watches Yoongi eagerly lick his mouth and quickly reposition himself between your legs before he can change his mind and deny him the pleasure of tasting your pussy—and his cum oozing out of it.

Yoongi’s tongue flicks your clit and you almost jump at the sensation, your sex still overly sensitive to endure the new attention that is being directed towards it.

Yoongi’s hands come to rest on your stomach, pressing you down on the couch as he lifts his gaze up to stare at you whilst his tongue works on your wet and battered folds.

The sensation of his tongue is absolutely heaven-like and a little foreign. Jeongguk’s tongue his more ravenous, rougher even compared to Yoongi’s. He is more like a kitten, licking you slowly as if savouring the finest milk on Earth.

Your eyes are unable to leave his face as he keeps looking at you whilst he covers the expanse of your sex with his infallible tongue, lapping every niche and ridge of your core until he is completely sure he has gathered every last drop of your orgasm he could.

His mouth closes on top of your sex as if he were kissing your swollen lips and you bite down your mouth at the almost tender touch.

His eyes turn darker, though, as his lips part again and he decides to claim what he had been thirsting for ever since he had caught the glimpse of you, rocking so beautifully on Jeongguk’s cock.

His tongue moves past your lips and enters your sex, curving a little downwards as if he really were a kitten, trying to drink from his bowl.

He starts to hum a little as Jeongguk’s cum evidently fills his mouth as he seeks it out from deep within you.

You can hear your boyfriend’s deep pants behind your back as he stares at the scene depicted before him. This is exciting him as much as it is exciting you.

Yoongi seems to catch on it as well, turning his tongue faster, more eager even inside of you in his desperate hunt of your pleasure.

Your hands fly to his blonde locks and tug on them a little roughly to encourage him further, making him hiss at the slight pain.

Your abdomen keeps contracting as he explores you whole, his tongue suddenly relentless as he eagerly seeks your pleasure spot to bring you down on his mouth and finally taste you completely.

His eyes shine and his cheeks empurple with the effort of keeping his rhythm between your legs and as your chest starts heaving, one of his hands moves from your stomach to seek the little trigger atop your swollen lips to put pressure on it and finally send you off the edge.

For the third time tonight, your toes curl at the blissful sensation, your hips lift off the couch and your legs quiver as the orgasm washes all over you with a trembling sigh.

Your eyes seem to close almost instantly as the pleasure subdues, almost as if the tiredness of the entire day has finally dawned on you all at once.

You do not remember how you got back inside your clothes nor how the boys even rearranged their positions to accommodate you but in the morning, it is with a satisfied grin that you welcome the sight of Jeongguk hugging you tight to his chest whilst Yoongi rests his head on your lap.

#btssmutclub #btswritersguild #kwordsmiths #bangtan bookclub #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #yoongi smut #jeongguk x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Second in Command (Epilogue - Part Seven)

Summary: Life as the “spare to the heir” isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be when you’re the supposed screw-up of the family, but people don’t know what really happens behind closed doors.

Rating: Mature

A/N: You guys are totally going to be annoyed with me for how I left it on a cliffhanger when I totally didn’t have to except to show some character growth and how things change...which I guess is exactly the reason I ended it that way :D

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr Chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14| 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Epilogue Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @ekr032-blog-blog @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615@a-faekindagirl @mayquita @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @kristi555 @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @alys07 @andiirivera

“Can I come in, son?”

“Yeah, of course,” Killian answers automatically, the shock of his father just showing up at his door stunning him for only a moment. It’s not like he never visits. He usually just calls or texts first. “I didn’t know you were coming over, dad. Why didn’t you call?”

“Oh, I was visiting the kids and thought I’d drop by since I knew that the two of you had returned home.” His dad steps inside, squeezing his shoulder before leaning down to pet Indy. “Hello, darling,” he then greets Emma, kissing her cheek before wrapping her up in a hug. “How are you feeling today?”

“Good, good,” Emma insists, her eyes still blown wide as if she’s actually been shocked. He knows she’s still a bit rattled from the flight and her nausea. The same thing had happened when they went out sailing the morning of their anniversary, before the disaster of the rest of that day, and even though he had been wary of it, Emma insisted she was fine. She never said she wasn’t, but the green of her face told him otherwise. “How are you?”

“Kicking pretty high for my age.”

“You are not old,” she laughs, tugging on Indy’s leash. “Do you mind if I take Indy for a quick walk? Let her run around a bit. She’s been told she’s going outside, and I’m afraid she’ll freak out if she doesn’t get to go.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll chat with Killian, and the second you two come back inside, I want to hear all about how you’ve been since you left us to go holiday in the warm sunshine. I swear it’s rained for the past week.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Emma takes a step over toward him, leaning up and kissing his cheek, whispering that she’ll be right back before taking a step outside with Indy and leaving him with his dad.

“Do you want something to drink? Eat?”

“I’m fine.” His father begins walking to the living room, settling down into the recliner he prefers when visiting all while Killian sits down on the couch next to him, only a side table between them. “So how was your holiday?”

He almost chokes on his own saliva thinking of all of the things he absolutely cannot tell his father about their holiday as well as wondering if he should bring up the privacy issue just yet. He doesn’t know, is never truly sure about these types of things. He could have a nice, normal conversation with his father or it could turn into another tense, stressful one. He’s had enough of those for a lifetime, but he also knows that he doesn’t have all of the time in the world to fix this. He’s got fewer than four months, really.

“It was wonderful,” he finally answers, his lips ticking up on one side. It really was wonderful to get away with Emma and only have each other for awhile despite the disaster that was their anniversary. It got better, though. It wasn’t completely bad. They had the sailing trip and the takeout meal that was better than anything else they’d eaten if only for how comfortable they both felt. He felt his son move for the first time, which was bloody brilliant and most definitely his new favorite thing. “It’s a gorgeous island. Emma mentioned something about asking you to make our beaches like that.”

Brennan barks out a laugh, the wrinkles on his face all gathering together while his gray hair shakes the slightest bit. If Killian was a betting man, he’d guess his dad is getting his hair cut in the next two or three days, keeping up with his lifelong schedule of haircuts. “If only I could. That would be bloody wonderful. But I like the way she thinks.”

“She’s definitely a brilliant dreamer.” He trails off toward the end of his sentence, looking down at his hand and twisting his ring around his finger, his constant physical reminder of his lifelong commitment to Emma, as if he really needs one. “Can I talk to you about something, dad?”

“Of course.”

“I know, well, I know that things were different when I was a kid, that technology wasn’t as advanced, that I was a bit of a surprise child and that you were on the older side when I was born.”

“Well, why don’t you just call me elderly then, Killian? And you have absolutely no proof that you were a surprise child.”

His dad laughs when he speaks, but Killian isn’t finding a lot of humor in it, knowing that he’s likely going to upset Brennan with his words.

“What I mean is, I know you weren’t really, truly involved in my life. And I’m not blaming you or trying to make you feel…upset, but I need a very particular kind of advice that really only you and mum or Liam and Abigail can give. And I’m honestly not even sure you can give it.”

“What’s wrong, Killian?”

He takes a moment to collect himself, hundreds of words on the tip of his tongue but none of them feeling quite right. But he has to say something, so he might as well speak the truth.

“How the hell am I supposed to be a father in a world where I can’t protect the privacy of my wife and my child? There were, um, photographers who rented out a house and used scopes to take pictures of us on the beach. And Emma and I got into a pretty nasty argument about it. She’s worried…I’m worried about Andrew’s privacy. We want him to live a life as normal as possible. We don’t want photographers following him to school or to the park, and I just – I don’t know how to fix it.”

He’s been clenching his fist all while he talks, the tenseness in his hand almost painful while hot tears form in his eyes, every fault and every insecurity he’s had long before the fight with Emma coming back and assaulting his senses, making everything a dark, cloudy blur.

Brennan looks calm, secure, the blue of his eyes not changing while his eyelids rapidly blink, his brows furrowing and the lines on his face increasing. Has he said too much? Shown too much emotion? Asked for the impossible?

“The fact that you have very obviously beaten yourself up about this proves that you are a better dad than I ever have been.”

“That’s not what I meant, dad. I didn’t – ”

“I know, Killian. I’m not taking offense to anything. I was a poor excuse for a father for the majority of your life. I was focused on Liam, on my job, on the protocol and the way that my father raised Albert and me. All I knew was that fathers were not supposed to be close to their children, and as much as that hurt me as a child, I stupidly believed it. The fact that you have forgiven me is something I still can’t believe.”

He leans over and places his hand on Brennan’s knee, patting him before leaning back and wiping at his eyes. “I did it for me, but with the way you’ve worked to change, you deserve it.”

“Thank you, my boy.” His father smiles, settling back into his chair and crossing his hands together in his lap. “But this is not about me. This is about you and your family. So you don’t want Andrew in the public eye? At all? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I mean, we haven’t discussed it in serious length, but yes. I’m sure that Emma will be okay with releasing the occasional photo or having him join us when we go overseas so we don’t have to be apart from him, but I think we’re going to have to take a step back in traditions. And when he gets older, I think we may need to move somewhere much more private.”

The front door opens then, the alarm beep sounding at the same time that he hears the click of nails and the squeak of sneakers as well as Emma’s voice. He straightens up, fixing his hunched back and sitting against the couch in as much of a relaxed position as he can.

“Go find, Killian, girl, yeah,” Emma coos, her voice getting louder the closer she gets to the living room. And then she’s in view, Indy running in first and jumping up on the couch before getting down once she spots Brennan, less familiar people always more exciting than him. Emma walks toward him, sitting down in the seat Indy just vacated and reaching around him to tangle her fingers in his hair, stroking the strands. “What’s wrong? Your shoulders are tensed.”

How the hell does she always know?

“Killian and I,” his father answers for him, seemingly understanding that Killian wasn’t sure what to say, “were simply talking about how you two seem to be suffering from some privacy issues and are worried about your child’s future, that you want Andrew to lead a more private life than normal.”

“Oh,” Emma gulps, her hand stilling in his hair before beginning again, “well, yeah. I know that we all grew up differently and that my childhood isn’t really an option, but that’s what I want, what we want. We want him to be able to be a kid, you know? I don’t want him to be used to cameras everywhere he goes. I don’t know how we’d fix that, but that’s definitely my top priority right now. And forever probably.”

His hand finds Emma’s knee, thumb running back and forth over the material of her leggings while she speaks. He’s here with her, for her, consistently, and he hopes that she knows this.

“Why don’t you two give me some time to think things over? I’ll meet with security. We’ll work out some plans and ideas. You two should probably talk to Liam and Abigail. It’s not, well, it won’t be exactly the same. You have more freedom than them, and they’re not quite as private as the two of you. But they do have experience in all of this.” “Thank you, Brennan,” Emma sighs, leaning back into the couch and scratching at his neck, his eyes fluttering closed for a quick moment.

“Of course, but at the end of the day, above everything else, we’re a family. How you two feel is far more important than any sort of duty and tradition we have, even if I do ask that we stick to the important ones.”

“Actually, I have something else that I want to talk about.”

His head snaps to her, eyes searching for what she has to say, but she’s not looking at him, her gaze trained on the wag of Indy’s tail while her fingers tap over his on her leg, the hand in his hair having stilled.

“What do you want to talk about, love?”

She looks at him then, the smallest of smiles on her face that comforts him the slightest bit, before directing her gaze to Brennan. “I don’t want to walk out of the hospital all made up hours after giving birth. Kudos to Abigail. She is a badass woman for that, but that’s not what I want. Andy doesn’t need to be exposed to so many people as a newborn. I don’t need to be all dressed up when I’ve just given birth. I don’t care about tradition when it comes to this. This is what I’m doing, and I really feel like it’s the first step in taking a stand about him not being some kind of public property.”

He didn’t know she felt that way about any of that, nearly every word she said news to him, but he gets it, supports it. If that’s what Emma wants for this, that’s what they’ll do. He’s never quite understood that tradition anyways, and he likes the idea of a more private celebration with just them and their families while Emma heals and they adjust to the terrifying process of being parents for the first time.

“I’m not sure we can do that, dear.”

“What?” His head snaps over to his dad, trying to process the words. “You literally just said that how we feel is more important than any duty we have.”

“But that we need to stick to the important traditions, yes. New family members are an important tradition.”

“Brennan,” Emma grits, her voice strained as she tries to keep it friendly, “I respect our family and all of the traditions we have, but I am not some kind of human machine who’s only here to produce babies. Yes, of course this is a big deal, but it’s a big deal for us as a personal family, not as some part of the institution. You can still put the sign up, make any and all announcements you want. Hell, I’ll release a picture if we have to, but all I’m asking is that we’re allowed to leave and travel home in peace.”

“I agree, dad. I mean, really. Of all of the things we break and bend, of all of the things we change, surely you can let this one thing go? It’s not hundreds of years ago where people are faking pregnancies and paternities to keep the line intact, which was ridiculous then. I think letting family be family is the most important thing, don’t you?”

“Aye, it’s just…you’ll have to forgive me.” Brennan runs his hand over his face, visibly warring something within himself, the lines on his face stressing. “You were right earlier when you said things are different now. These are not things that I really went through with you, not as prevalent as you. Emma, dear, I’m sorry. I don’t…I shouldn’t have ever considered making you do something you’re not comfortable with. I love you dearly, and you and Killian know what’s best here, not me.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” Emma says, getting up from the couch and sitting down on the edge of the coffee table so that she can squeeze Brennan’s hand. “You are so brilliant, and you uphold this family so well. I know that I’m different, that it was difficult to accept me, but change can be good, you know?”

“I know.”

Brennan stays for a little while longer, hashing out a few more details with them before accepting a cup of tea and some food, finally listening to them talk about their holiday all the while scratching behind Indy’s ears, her eyes closed in bliss the entire time. It’s peaceful, relaxing, and he feels his shoulders loosen the longer the conversation goes on, Emma’s laughter and joyful voice sounding throughout the room. In the back of his mind, though, he keeps replaying the conversation, thinking of everything he said, everything they all said, and he’s amazed it all went as smoothly as it did, surprised that his father acquiesced to their private exit from the hospital so easily. He had no idea that Emma wanted that, and he wonders how long she’s been toying with the idea, how many late nights she’s spent worrying about bringing it up. He knows she didn’t just think of it now, that it wasn’t spur of the moment, and he tries to remind himself to ask her about it later, to make sure that there’s nothing else she’s hoarding inside.

She goes through enough, has gone through enough over the years, and she shouldn’t feel like she has to hold things back from him.

But he saves his thoughts for later, letting his dad leave and letting Emma take a nap, her eyes falling shut without her even laying down on the couch. He wakes her before she can get into too deep of a sleep, though, knowing that it’ll hurt her back, and helps her go upstairs to their room, ignoring the curses she’s muttering under her breath about him waking her up. While she sleeps, he goes downstairs to his office, answering emails and clearing out his inbox that he left alone while they were in Spain.

Summer is normally a slow time for them, June and July full of engagements while August is usually taken off to spend in Balmoral. Emma’s due in September, though, a few days after his birthday, and she’s not working after August begins. He is, though, doing his regular work and making a few short trips, making sure never to never travel more than three hours away in case he needs to be home.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have things to do now, organizing his files and reviewing the financials for Kidding a Goal until Indy comes walking into his office, her nails clicking against the wood until she’s staring up at him with her mouth wide open, tongue practically falling out of her mouth. He checks his watch and sees that it’s far past seven. He’s surprised she didn’t come and get him two hours ago.

“You ready to eat, my girl?”

That gets her tail wagging before she takes off, running toward the kitchen at such a pace that she’s probably there before he even gets up from his chair. Sure enough, she’s already waiting next to her bowl like the most well-behaved dog in the world, which is not something he expected when he and Emma decided to get a dog last year. But she’s done well, their training working most of the time, but Indy does have the tendency to lick his face when he’s sleeping. He’s not a fan of that.

But she’s his best bud and a constant companion on his runs, so it all evens out.

After feeding her, he hears footsteps coming down the stairs, Emma wandering into the kitchen with sleep-rumpled hair and pillow streaks on her face, her pajama top falling off of one shoulder. She immediately heads toward the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and some yogurt before settling down on a barstool.

“How’d you sleep?”

She grunts in response, opening her yogurt and eating a large spoonful. “I hate being pregnant sometimes.”

“So not well then?”

“Nope. I felt like my guts were all being squeezed out, but do you know who’s not moving now that I’m awake and out of bed?”

“Andy.”

“Yep.”

She keeps eating her yogurt, quickly finishing it up before getting another carton. He should probably fix something for dinner so she doesn’t consume the entire yogurt supply in their fridge.

“Hey, sweetheart?”

“Yeah?” she mumbles, pulling her spoon out of her mouth and looking up at him, her hair deflating the slightest bit from when she came down.

“You want to tell me what that was earlier? With my dad. When did you decide you didn’t want to do the public announcement?”

“Oh, um, I first thought about it a few weeks ago, but it was really driven home after last week. Why? You have an issue with it?”

“No,” he laughs, leaning down across from her and propping his elbows on the counter. “I think it’s bloody brilliant, that you are brilliant. I like that you want to do things your way…our way. It’s very sexy.” “Oh boy, if you’re looking to get laid right now that is not happening.”

“Well damn. Now I have no reason to compliment you.”

“Shut up,” she groans, tossing her spoon over into the sink, the metal clanking. “But seriously, you’re okay with all that, right?”

“Of course. I want you to do what makes you comfortable. I’m not the one giving birth.”

“Damn right. I think I’m going to give your dad a heart attack though.”

“Aye, definitely. I know he’s trying and he’s being accommodating, but I could practically see the fear of breaking traditions rolling off of him in anxiety-filled waves. But he’s seventy-three. Some things just aren’t going to change.”

“So basically we hit the jackpot today?”

“Yep.” He walks over to the fridge, opening it up and seeing what they have left over from before they left. “What do you want for dinner?”

-/-

“Bloody buggering hell,” he curses, bringing his thumb to his mouth and soothing where he just jammed his finger on the wood.

Building a crib should not be this difficult, but it apparently is. He’s been following the instructions exactly, making sure that each piece is doubly secure, and he’s not sure how it’s taking this long. He should be finished, this crib should be made, and he should be able to move onto the shelves or Emma’s glider that she was insistent on them getting.

He’s spent more time in this room in the past month than he has in any other room in the house, June somehow running away with itself all while he’s been hidden away within these four walls. It took a month and a half for he and Emma to decide on a simple light gray, one that he’s pretty sure is also in their bedroom, but honestly, once they both agreed on the color (likely because they have agreed on it once before), he wasn’t going to say anything else. He did pick out the gray-ish blue that’s on the wall with the shelves (or at least where they’ll go once he gets to them), so he’s pretty proud of it.

Neither he or Emma are much one for designing, though they have gotten a bit more into it since the remodel of the apartment, but he’s pretty proud of how Andy’s room is shaping up, even if the lad will stay in the bassinet in their room for awhile. It’s a simple room, clean lines and clean colors. All of the furniture are different shades of white and warm browns, woods really, with natural accents. Abigail gifted them a large wooden giraffe along with some leaf and animal prints, so those are sitting in the corner waiting to be placed after all of this furniture is built.

His favorite part, though, is definitely going to be the little sitting area by the shelves and the changing table. He’s not under any impression that this is going to be a calm room, a place to relax, but he figures there have to be times when he’s rocking Andy back to sleep in that very spot, the shelves filled with colorful children’s books that’ll become routine reading one day as well as being filled with several stuffed animals and photo frames that he can’t wait to update with pictures. Of course, the cabinets below will be filled with the essentials, the things no one likes to talk about like diapers and nipple cream (that was something Emma did not want to know about, and he honestly doesn’t blame her), but they’re definitely still in the dreamy, picture perfect nursery phase where the messiness of a child isn’t quite a factor.

Really to him, as much as he knows this is real, as much as he sees the physical proof, feels the physical proof (which holy shit is it incredible to be able to feel his son move), it’s still difficult for him to comprehend that in two months he and Emma will have a child. It’s something they’ve talked about for years, something they were planning on, but it’s difficult to put into words just how much love he has for his son.

And his wife.

She’s a rockstar in every sense of the word, and if he doesn’t mention it enough, Emma sure as hell will. He loves her fiercely, and that love is another thing that he can’t quite put into words. He honestly doesn’t understand men who moan and groan about their wives constantly. If anything, he finds it disgusting. Yes, you’re going to have disagreements with your significant other. That’s natural when you decide to spend your life with someone who has their own wants, needs, and opinions, but at the end of the day, his wife is his best friend. If there’s anyone he wants to spend time with, it’s her. No question.

If the answer to who your best friend isn’t your spouse or the person you’re marrying, he doesn’t understand why the hell you’d bother getting married. His mates are great, but they’re not Emma.

Maybe he is a bit of the cheeseball that Emma always claims him to be, but he likes it that way.

He’s definitely going to embarrass his kids. All of the time. He can’t wait. He’s got a few years, but he can’t wait.

“You know we can hire someone to do this, right?” Emma asks, a bit of laughter in her tone that makes him roll his eyes. His best friend, most definitely. The teasing is just a small part of that.

“Aye, but I’ve started it, and I intend on finishing it.” “Okay, but the crib doesn’t need to fall apart while there’s a baby inside of it, and the glider doesn’t need to fall apart while I’m sitting on it. That’s, like, a double disaster, and I know you lived by yourself for a long time, but I’m pretty sure you’re not capable of that anymore.”

“Oh, really? Because I was just going to make them as unsafe as possible so that I could live by myself again. I miss being able to stretch out in the bed.”

“You’re so funny,” she teases from the other side of the nursery where she’s putting away the washed clothes in the closet, organizing them by size. He swears they have enough clothes to last Andy for the first two years of his life, and that’s not counting the piles of things he knows David and Mary Margaret have at their house. “I think I may have bought him too much stuff. I don’t even think I own this many things.”

“You don’t mess your clothes up multiple times a day.”

“Good point.”

“I tend to make those.”

“Eh. Debatable.”

“Not at all debatable.” He turns back to the crib, looking at the instructions to see if he can remember where he left off before Emma distracted him. “Shit, this is impossible.”

“I can call my dad, babe. It won’t be a problem. He’s a bit handier than you.”

“Please, I am plenty handy.”

“Okay, well being handy with me is not the same as being handy when it comes to building things.”

“If we call your dad, he’s going to take over. I want to do some of this myself.”

“I will tell Dad just to help. Come on, babe, you love spending time with my dad.”

“Only now that he doesn’t give me the scary speeches anymore.”

“Yeah, I bet those were a lot of fun.”

“I mean, it’s been a solid half a decade since I’ve gotten one, but he still shakes me to my core.”

He hears Emma laugh, snort really, before she makes her way over to him, slowly settling down on the floor next to him and waving her hand until he gives her the instructions. She looks over them while looking at the crib, her eyes continuously darting between the two.

“You put part G in backwards. That’s why nothing after that is fitting.”

“Bloody hell,” he curses, reaching over and taking the instructions from her hand and checking to see if she really did just solve his problem, “how did you see that when I’ve been staring at it for the past hour?”

“Fresh eyes, my love. Fresh eyes.” She leans forward and kisses his cheek before falling back against the wall. “And that’s exactly why calling my dad and asking him to come over in the morning will be a great idea. I bet Mom will want to come too, and she does a mean job with a power drill.”

So Emma calls her parents who agree to come over in the morning. On top of moving, they’ve also begun to change around the hours of the pub, opening it earlier and letting Will close it out at night. And it’s because of this that they show up at eight in the morning, he and Emma both still asleep when their doorbell rings. Emma groans when she hears it, burying her face into his chest and making it impossible for him to get up without disturbing her. He can feel Andy summersaulting around in her belly, and he smiles to himself knowing that she’s going to have get up. She can’t sleep when he’s moving around like that.

He can’t sleep when Emma’s basically running marathons in bed, but that’s not something he’s going to voice out loud. He can get up and sleep in a guest room if he needs to. Emma can’t get up and walk away from the person who’s running marathons in her stomach.

There’s two human feet inside of her. That’s pretty weird if he thinks about it too much.

Okay, so really weird.

Slowly but surely he gets out of bed, letting Emma flip over into his spot, and heads downstairs to open the front door. David and Mary Margaret have a key, but they never use it, always waiting for either he or Emma to open the door for them, which he appreciates after one too many times having them walk in on he and Emma.

“Hi,” he greets, opening the door and ushering them inside. “Emma’s still asleep, but I’m sure she’ll wake up soon. Do you guys want some breakfast?”

“We ate at home, sweetie,” Mary Margaret greets, giving him a quick hug before David does the same. “So Emma said you guys were having some issues in the nursery.”

“I believe that it was more like Killian not being able to put together a crib in under three weeks.”

“So funny, Dave,” he bites, rolling his eyes and locking the door. “I did eventually figure it out. I just think this mid-July heat is obviously getting to me. Or maybe nerves. I’m not too sure.”

“Well, let’s go help then. We’ve got to be at the pub at two, but I think we should be able to get things done.”

After he fixes himself some coffee, not nearly as wide awake as David and Mary Margaret, they head upstairs and begin working in the nursery, assembling the shelves and drilling them into the walls in half the time that it would have taken he and Emma had they done this by themselves. So maybe help isn’t all bad. Before Emma even wakes up, they have the shelves installed and pictures securely nailed on the wall. There are books already being stacked, stuffed animals and knick knacks being placed, and all of the fun nipple creams and breast pumps being placed in the cabinet.

They’re working on the glider when Emma finally wanders in, her hair falling out of its band so that half of it spills down her back while the other half is piled on top of her head, and she’s got her glasses on, something she only does when her eyes feel too puffy to put her contacts in.

“Hey, sweetheart,” David greets, finishing tightening the screw he’s working on before getting up to embrace Emma. “How are you feeling?”

“Rough today. I think the little dude’s a giant or something because he crushes my lungs and my bladder at the same time. So I can’t breathe, and I have to pee. So, yeah, it’s fun.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, dad. It looks fantastic in here. You guys have done so much. I feel like we’re not going to have anything to do in the next two months if we finish all of this.”

“That’s kind of the point, love.”

“Yeah,” she yawns, covering her mouth, “I know. Mom, do you want to come and rest with me in my room? My back hurts today, and I just can’t sit on the floor in here with you guys.” “Of course, hon,” Mary Margaret answers, walking away from the closet and stepping over to Emma before she rubs up and down her back. “Are you sure you don’t want Killian to join you? David and I would be fine to work on our own.”

“No, it’s fine. I bug him all day, and I’m kind of thinking that you can paint my toes for me or we can watch movies or something. It’s been awhile since we’ve done that.”

“Text me if you need me, love,” he tells Emma, his eyes tracing over her in a bit of concern. It’s difficult watching her be uncomfortable or miserable on some days when he literally can’t do anything about it.

“Yeah, babe, I will.”

Emma and Mary Margaret walk out of the room, their voices fading away as they walk into their bedroom one room over, and he’s left with just David who promptly gets back to work finishing building the chair. Music plays in the background, an eighties’ playlist he thinks, and it doesn’t take longer before the chair is completely together and he’s sitting in it testing it out. It’s comfortable, probably one of the best seats they have in the house, and he can definitely understand why Emma insisted on this one after shopping around a bit.

“How does someone so small have so much stuff?”

“My child is twenty-eight years old, we don’t even live in her childhood home anymore, and I swear things of hers still pop up all of the time.”

“That’s likely because Emma leaves everything all over the place.”

He folds his hands behind his head, closing his eyes and rocking back and forth while Cherry Bomb plays in the background, which is definitely not a nursery appropriate song. Or maybe it is. Who needs Mozart when you can have The Runaways?

“So is Emma like that every day?”

“Like what?” he asks, popping an eye open to look at David who’s sitting against the shelves, which can’t be good for his back. God, how old is he getting if his first concern is for someone else’s back?

“Exhausted.”

“No, not every day. She’s usually got a hell of a lot of energy, even if there’s always a nap. I think she had a restless night. She’ll tell me like it is, though. If she’s having a bad day, she’ll let us know.” “What about you?”

“Well, I don’t have a baby crushing my lungs and my bladder.”

“True,” David laughs, running his hands through his short hair. Killian swears it’s gotten more gray in the past year, the blonde nearly disappearing. David is only fifty-two, so he’s not exactly older. Hell, if it weren’t for the wrinkles on his forehead and the gray hairs outnumbering the blonde, he’d look much younger. “But I remember being a dad for the first time. It’s terrifying, so you’re allowed to be scared.”

“I am. It’s…” He reaches up and scratches behind his ear, his hair getting long enough that he knows he needs to get a haircut soon. “Emma and I try to make sure that we keep up our normal routines, that we have our normal conversations without talking too much about the baby, but it’s kind of hard, you know? It’s like we’ll be talking about going out to eat and two minutes later we’re making a list of middle names or speculating if he’s going to look more like me or Emma.”

“I know. But it’s an exciting time, Killian. There will never be anything like it, and if you want to talk about the fact that you’re having a kid, you should. You and Emma have been together for so long, and I really don’t think your relationship is going to struggle if you’re not sitting around making references no one else understands for hours on end.”

“Oi,” he protests, resisting the urge to pick up the toy elephant next to him and throw it at David, “that is your daughter you’re mocking, and she can still kick your ass.”

“Trust me, I know. Who do you think raised her to be like that?”

“Mary Margaret.”

“You’re walking a thin line.”

He winks at David, his lips ticking up on the right into a smirk. “I know. You and Mary Margaret did such a good job, still do such a good job, and even with all of the times you’ve messed up – ”

“ – which is a lot more often than even Emma has probably told you.”

“I just…you’re a good dad, Dave. To Emma, to me. I hope I can do half as good as a job.”

“You’ll be great, Killian.” David smiles at him, something genuine, and Killian’s reminded of how much David really has impacted his life in all of the best ways. “I promise. And as much as I love you, I do love my little girl more, and she’s going to be amazing. She’s always…she’s never been too open to a lot of people, but the people she loves, she loves so fiercely, you know? And she’s already doing so well at being a mom. She’ll call me at nights, and I can just hear the happiness and excitement in her voice. At the end of the day, that’s all you want, you know? For your kid to be healthy and happy.”

“Yeah, I know.” He smiles to himself, thinking of how happy he is. “Also, how dare you imply that you love your own daughter more than me. I thought I meant more to you than that. I thought we had something special, man.”

“I can still give you hell. I’d watch yourself.”

He and David finish up in the nursery for the next few hours until David and Mary Margaret have to go to work, leaving after the three of them eat lunch down in the kitchen, Emma staying upstairs for a nap. When the Nolans are gone and he’s finished eating, he heads upstairs, bypassing the nursery and walking into their bedroom where Emma is sitting up on the bed watching TV.

“Your toes look nice,” he compliments, grabbing onto her big toe and moving it back and forth. “Do you feel any better?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, twisting onto her back and scooting up the bed, “it’s just one of those days, you know? I’m not usually this miserable.”

“I know, but it’s okay to have bad days, love.”

“Come here,” she tells him, crooking her fingers and motioning toward him before she turns on her side and wraps her arms around her pillow. He does as she asks, kicking off his sneakers and crawling up into the bed, the mattress moving against his weight until he’s pressed up behind her, his knee stuck between her thighs and his arm wrapped around her waist while the other rests above her head. This is how she’s been comfortable lately, and he can’t say he minds. “Did you guys get a lot done?”

“Aye, it’s almost all finished.” He moves her hair off of her neck, placing a kiss there before resting his chin on her shoulder. “It just needs your finishing touches, I think.”

“And we have to unpack all of the boxes that are in the guest room and put them away in the closet.” “That too, but we’ve got time, Emma.” She hums, and he can feel the vibrations as well as Andy moving around under his touch, the movements following how he taps his fingers. “Has he been active today?”

“Not since I woke up, but he always responds to your voice.” “Yeah, he recognizes me?”

“Of course, you talk so damn much. How could he not?”

He turns his head and presses a kiss against her jaw, biting a bit just to tease her. “You are not a very nice woman, my love.”

“Oh please, I’m, like, the seventh nicest person you know.”

“Seventh?”

“I figured it was conceited to put me at number one.”

“Possibly.” He moves his hand against her stomach again, snaking his fingers up under her pajama top so that he can feel the warmth of her skin. “So he really does get more active when I talk?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty weird to think about, but it’s true. He likes when you talk. I think it’s because you’re a much better story teller than me.” “I mean, obviously.”

“And that he’s probably just glad to hear someone else besides me. Imagine being stuck with someone for nine months. Good God.”

“Well, I’m stuck with you for forever. Good God.”

She groans and curses him under his breath before she scoots over and turns in his arms, slowly but surely moving to face him. “Don’t be an asshole. Also, so I was talking to mom today, and she wants to be called Mimi. I think Dad wants to be called Papa, which I like as long as that’s not what you want. I know that’s what some kids call their dads.”

“Aye, it’s what Lizzie calls Liam, which is weird since Alex doesn’t do that. But I’m okay with dad or daddy, so David can be called Papa.”

“Yeah, I kind of like it. Mimi and Papa. And then your parents are Gammy and Grandpa, right? That’s what Alex and Lizzie call them.”

“Aye, but I know Mom didn’t want to be Gammy. It’s just what happened. She says it makes her feel old.”

“Your mom is not old.”

“I know, but considering your parents are barely fifty while my parents are in their sixties and seventies, it doesn’t help.”

“I’ll tell my parents to get older then.”

He smiles at her before closing his eyes and settling into his pillow, letting his head sink down into the softness. It’s calming in here, the lights turned off and curtains closed while the ceiling fan hums a steady rhythm above them. He could fall asleep like this even if he’s not the biggest fan of naps, always somehow ending up groggy when he wakes up, and it doesn’t help with the way that Emma is playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, her fingers scratching into his scalp.

“Are you working tomorrow?”

He pops an eye open, looking at Emma and smiling when her nail hits a particularly sensitive spot on his neck. “Aye, I’ve got the Investiture ceremony at ten. Why?”

“Just wondering. I was thinking we could go somewhere. Just us. Maybe take Indy to Berkshire and let her run around, spend some time outside.” “We can do it in the afternoon, if you want. I think the weather is supposed to be nice.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, leaning forward and sliding her lips over his for a brief moment, “I think that would be nice.”

The next day after he’s finished with the ceremony, he hurries home, changing out of his suit and into shorts and a t-shirt, slipping a baseball cap onto his head and grabbing something to eat for lunch while Emma does the same, her hair falling out of the back of her hat in a long ponytail. They’ve got all day, but the afternoon’s weather is pleasant enough that he’d like to go now so they can stop by a café for dinner, even if that’s the absolute last thing that Thomas will want them to do.

They want their privacy, but they should be able to go out to dinner.

So he and Emma load up into his car, letting Indy sit in the backseat with the window rolled down so she can feel the mid-July breeze blow through her fur. It doesn’t take long to get to Windsor, pulling into their parking garage less than thirty minutes later, and instead of going inside like they’d usually do, he hooks Indy up to her leash while Emma grabs some water bottles and they head to the private gardens, avoiding the visitors wandering around on tours.

As much as he prefers the spring, mild July days are near the top of his list of favorite things. Everything is brighter, more pleasant. The grass is actually greener, the flowers contrasting against their background to create a landscape of whites and shades of purple, while everything is covered in a clear blue sky, only a few white clouds scattered throughout. New life blooms, and he gets to be the one to appreciate it, to revel in it. England can be so dreary sometimes, the weather somehow reflecting the moods of most people on their morning commute to work, so he appreciates when it’s not. He’s always loved the outdoors, and if there’s any complaint he has about his home, it’s the small private garden that they have to themselves. He’d like something larger, more space to run around, and sometime in the future, he and Emma plan to spend more time in Bucklebury so that they have the privacy.

That’s what they’ve decided on since returning from Spain last month. There’s been more lengthy, draining discussions with his parents and their security team than he’s ever wanted, and as much as he feels like they haven’t really accomplished anything, he knows it’s a slow process. Of course, there are drawbacks to every positive. They’re still going to have to spend most of their time at Kensington. It’s closer to their work, to their families. Hell, Emma’s parents just bought a house so that they could have the ability to spend time with their grandchild, and now they’re going to move away from them. It’s less than an hour drive, but it’s not nearly as close as they currently are.

But everyone understands, and they don’t plan on moving any time soon, not until Andy’s a bit older. They want to be near all of their loved ones when he’s younger, and they’ve spent so much time working on their home, making it exactly how they want. It’d be difficult to leave full time, so it’ll be nice to have the option of both.

It’ll be even nicer to give Andy the most normal life that they can possibly give him.

Emma whistles next to him, her fingers between her lips, while Indy runs back to them from where they let her loose. She was about five seconds away from jumping into a pond full of fish, and as much as they’d usually let her swim, they don’t need to have a wet dog with them for the rest of the day. So she runs back to them as quickly as she can, her legs leaping in the air with her black and white fur bouncing the slightest bit. He’s convinced that she shouldn’t be able to be that quick, but she’s still just a young dog, less than a year old, and though her legs will get longer, he doesn’t think she’ll ever be full of this much energy again.

If she is, he and Emma are definitely in over their heads.

With the dog.

He’s going to choose to not think of what it’ll be like with a toddler than can run and a dog that he can run after.

After she calms from her almost pond dive, Indy walks along in front of the two of them, occasionally wandering off the stone path to sniff around in the plants, nearly tearing up several flowers until they call her back to keep walking. They stay wandering for a little over two hours, not caring where exactly they’re going or if they’re circling back around in the same spots. Indy and Emma get tired around the same time, so they settle down onto a stone bench with a patio cover that’s next to another small pond.

In the distance, he can see the Chapel where they were married, the steeple rising up above the other buildings and stone walls, and he smiles to himself thinking of that day. In the grand scheme of things, he knows that when it comes to he and Emma, as important as it was, they had so many smaller, inconsequential days that he holds just as fondly in his heart.

But that was a pretty damn good day.

He stretches his arm out over the back of the bench, wrapping it around Emma’s shoulder and tangling his fingers into the ends of her ponytail while she leans her head on his shoulder, the bill of her hat hitting him in the chin for a brief moment. He’s glad she suggested them getting away from London for a little bit, for suggesting that they change up the routine and spend a day enjoying summer, especially since they’re missing out on Scotland with the rest of the family.

A month in the same place as everyone is likely a bit long, anyways. He loves his family, but that’s a lot for anyone.

“I love you, you know?” Emma asks out of nowhere, her gaze never falling away from the rippling of the water in front of them, a fish leaping up out of the water while the lily pads float around.

He squeezes her shoulder, rubbing up and down her arm and kissing her head even if she can’t feel it through the hat. “I know. I love you too.”

#second in command #cs ff #cs fic #captain swan fic

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allenmendezsr · 4 years

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Attention! Social media experts agree, if you want to be successful online: “You have to be everywhere!” but….

From the Desk of Alex Krulik

Dear Online Entrepreneurs,

Social Media is the biggest thing ever. You’ve heard it. I’ve heard it. Everywhere, it is: “Facebook this.” Twitter that”. YouTube is hot. And the latest social site is even hotter… It is a never ending list: LinkedIn, Instagram, Pinterest, Steemit, Snapchat, Digg…

And they are important.

But not for the reason you think.

More on that in a minute…

Right now I want you to think about Facebook. It has 2 billion users. Of them, 1.1 billion are active on their Facebook mobile App every day. That is huge engagement.

You would have to be crazy to ignore Facebook in your marketing plan.

…Or Is It Crazy? Should You Actually IGNORE Facebook?”

As a successful entrepreneur, you probably look to Facebook to generate leads. And yes, it can be a good source of leads, but the brutal truth is: “Lead generation from Facebook is extremely difficult, time-consuming and a long term process”.

Why?

When you go to Facebook, what do you see?

Cute kitty memes? A coworker eating a donut? Photos of Aunt Millie’s vacation?

Face it. No one goes to Facebook looking to buy something. They are there to party, chat with their friends, laugh and socialize.

When they want to shop, they go to Amazon, not Facebook.

You are wasting a lot of time and money trying to get Facebook users to buy… It’s like trying to sell sand to Hawaiians. They are not interested.

Okay, Alexander, if Facebook is not the answer, what is?

We’re glad you asked.

When you need information, where do you turn to?

There really is only one answer:

The most valuable real estate online is the Number One result on Google.

That top spot gets 33% of the traffic for that search term.

Let’s do the math…

If 20,000 people search for “Wooden Spoons” today and your site is ranked number one, you get 6,600 visitors.

If you are fifth, you’ll still get 1,400 visitors. A major drop-off, but still not too bad…

However, look at what happens once you’re off the first page. Page One received 91.5% of the traffic. Page Three gets 1.1%. Now your traffic fire hose has slowed to a trickle…

The big question…

There are only two focuses for ranking on Google:

1) On Page Optimization 2) Off Page Optimization

On Page Optimization refers to the content you place on your web page, and includes, but is not limited to:

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A major factor of On Page Optimization is that it is what the searcher is looking for. Google tracks how long the searcher stays on your page. If they visit and immediately hit the Back Button, Google realizes that the page is not that good for that search term.

You can bet that since Google’s profits depend on giving very good results, that page won’t stay near the top if it is not relevant and the searchers leave too fast.

Bad content will knock you off the top faster than anything your competitor can do.

Good quality content is key.

Google decided, in its early days, that a hyperlink from one site to another site was a “Vote of Confidence”. Google ranked sites with more hyperlinks to it (backlinks) higher.

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Google responded by becoming more picky about what hyperlinks it thought were important for ranking a page. Links for “Authority” sites became more powerful for ranking sites. No longer could you buy a $8 domain and put up hundreds of pages with links to your “Money” site expecting to rank higher.

It all comes down to…

What are “Authority” Sites?

While no one but Google knows the exact criteria, we do know the types of sites Google values:

Social sites, like Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Google Plus and about 150 similar sites.

These sites receive a lot of traffic and interaction by their users. Plus you have to join, which makes it more time consuming and difficult for spammers to take advantage of them.

So once you create great content, if you want to rank your site, you need more backlinks than your competitor.

The process is very simple:

1) Research and make a list of social sites. 2) Sign up and fill out the profiles on 150 social sites 3) Log into them individually and post a unique piece of content with a link 4) Add more profiles as one only will not likely be enough 5) Change your IP address through proxies so you look like an individual and not someone logging into multiple accounts to spam the site with backlinks 6) Post at all different times so your audiences around the world all see your posts 7) Did I mention that you will have to solve Captchas? Those irritating little images with hard to read text that seem to pop up all over the place

Yes, I said “Simple” but not easy…

It is a lot of work. If it takes 15 minutes to set up a profile, then for 150 profiles, you are looking at 37.5 hours of work. That is almost an entire work week just setting up accounts. Not only is that a ton of wasted time, it’s boring as hell.

And if you want multiple profiles? I hate to think about how long that will take.

Then you start posting on each account…

Doing it manually is a nightmare. You could hire a VA, but then you substitute doing the work for managing the work. Depending on your VA, this could end up being even more work.

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youtube

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A huge portion of Google’s profits comes from local search. When you are walking down the street and crave a pizza, what do you do? You pull out your phone and search pizza.

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Disclaimer: ClickBank is the retailer of products on this site. CLICKBANK® is a registered trademark of Click Sales Inc., a Delaware corporation located at 1444 S. Entertainment Ave., Suite 410 Boise, ID 83709, USA and used by permission. ClickBank’s role as retailer does not constitute an endorsement, approval or review of these products or any claim, statement or opinion used in promotion of these products.

This site and the products and services offered on this site are not associated, affiliated, endorsed, or sponsored by Google, Facebook, Twitter, Yahoo, or YouTube, nor have they been reviewed tested or certified by Google, Facebook, Twitter, Yahoo, or YouTube.

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newstfionline · 6 years

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How I Socially Engineer Myself Into High Security Facilities

Sophie Daniel, Motherboard, Oct 20 2017

Hello! My name is Sophie and I break into buildings. I get paid to think like a criminal.

Organizations hire me to evaluate their security, which I do by seeing if I can bypass it. During tests I get to do some lockpicking, climb over walls or hop barbed wire fences. I get to go dumpster diving and play with all sorts of cool gadgets that Q would be proud of.

But usually, I use what is called social engineering to convince the employees to let me in. Sometimes I use email or phone calls to pretend to be someone I am not. Most often I get to approach people in-person and give them the confidence to let me in.

A few months ago, a client had hired me to test two of their facilities. A manufacturing plant, plus data center and office building nearby.

First step: open source intelligence, or OSINT. I look at maps, satellite images, study what I can of their delivery and supply schedules, and so on.

The manufacturing facility looked like a prison. No windows, heavy iron gates, no landscaping. Generally a monstrosity of architecture.

This facility had armed guards, badge readers, biometric security controls and turnstiles at every entrance.

The chances of tailgating (following behind an employee with valid credentials) into this building were next to non-existent.

I was going to have to get down and dirty with my social engineering.

First stop: LinkedIn. Your LinkedIn is my best friend. The more information you have on your LinkedIn, the more options I have.

I have several fake LinkedIn profiles that you are probably connected to.

I scour profiles of employees who work at these facilities, and cross-reference them to other social media sites. And I find a lovely young woman who I’m going to call Mary.

Mary was a brand-new hire working as an assistant at the manufacturing facility. Mary had a public Facebook account too.

On Mary’s public Facebook account, she documented all of her family’s adventures.

Side note: Now I know where Mary went to high school, her mother’s maiden name, the names of her pets, etc.

Answers to those “security questions” you use to reset your passwords are very easy to find if you aren’t careful with that information.

Not to mention that now I know where Mary works, where her kids go to school, where they vacation…I could go on. Scary stuff.

This is not an advanced investigation. I’m not a private investigator and I don’t have the resources of the NSA. But I can do a lot of damage with simple methods.

Most notably to me, there were photos Mary posted of her time volunteering with a certain maternity support center.

Her passion for children and caring new moms was very plain. So of course, I took advantage of it.

For this assessment I played two roles. For the first, I spoofed my phone number to make it look like it was coming from the company’s headquarters.

I called the front desk of the manufacturing facility and was transferred to Mary. “Hi Mary!” I said, “My name is Barbara.”

“I am a project coordinator with facilities management. We are renovating a few of our facilities. We are sending an interior designer out to you tomorrow so she can put together proposals to update your space!”

Mary replied, “Well that’s great! But why the short notice?” I could feel her getting suspicious, so I pulled out my trump card…

*Sigh* “Well Mary… You really should have heard from me sooner. I’ve just been so overloaded at work…I feel like I can’t catch up, and to top it off the baby is due in 6 weeks. If my boss finds out I messed this up he’s going to flip.”

I was really getting into this, voice shaking. (Yes, I know, I’m a terrible human being.)

She cut me off, “Oh hunny, hunny it’s ok. We will work this out! Tell me about the baby! Is it your first? Boy or girl?!”

Our Mary was committed at this point. Not because she is stupid, but because she is a good person. She wanted to help me.

We talked babies and birth plans for a while (never pick a pretext you can’t speak about at length.)

Mary took down the name of the “designer” who was coming by the next day and we said our goodbyes. Mary could have saved her company a lot of heartache by simply verifying that I was who I claimed to be. (Just to be clear here, I would never give out Mary’s real identity. I’m not totally heartless. This could have happened to anyone. She has not been fired.)

I showed up the next day as “Claire” with a fictional architecture firm that I had made business cards and a website for. My alter-ego Barb had done most of the leg work for me. When I arrived, Mary and her boss were waiting for me with smiles. I shook hands all around and handed them the business card I printed out the night before. I was given a visitor badge and the red carpet was rolled out.

I gained rapport with the staff there by asking them to tell me what they wanted in an office space. They were so excited. I might have claimed to be on the team that put together the Google offices…

“You want a standing desk? New chairs over here?! Ergonomic keyboards for everyone! Let’s look at swatches!”

We became best buds. I was given complete and unaccompanied access to the facility where I stayed for several hours.

I gained network access and stole several thousands of dollars in physical primitives by picking my way through cheap locks.

This client had been pretty confident that I wouldn’t get into either facility, much less be able to hit both in a short time span. So the timeline was left to my discretion, but it was assumed that I would need to fly to the area twice.

I didn’t see the need in burdening them with two round-trip expenses.

I went back to Mary’s office and said, “Well I think I have what I need from here. How do I get to the office center?”

She looked at her watch and said, “It’s almost lunch time. I’ll take you there!” A whole group of us piled into the parking lot, and they took me to a nearby taco shop. That’s right. My Marks took me to get tacos… I love my job.

After lunch they drove me to the offices and a few of them came in with me to show me around.

I took FOREVER looking around this office space, and eventually they said their goodbyes because they had to go back to work. They had a strict policy of escorting visitors. But I had been seen walking around with trusted insiders so no one questioned me.

I was free to take my time. I made myself at home. My main objective at this site was to weasel my way into private corner offices.

When I accomplished my goals, I tracked down my point of contact’s office. This is the man who hired me in the first place. This is the best part of every job.

Steve was there, hard at work when I disturbed his groove by knocking on the door. He glanced up, “Hi there, can I help you?”

I smiled. “Hi Steve! I’m Sophie from Sincerely Security. It’s nice to meet you in-person!”

I will never forget the look on his face… Pure gold. “Who?.... Wait, what? How? How did you get in here?!”

We stayed in his office and talked for a long time. I went over exactly the steps that could have prevented my success. First of all, the desire to help others is human and natural. We don’t want to discourage that.

Second, I’m sure they did have some sort of policy that required visitors to check in showing government issued identification, but they weren’t following it.

We also need to post by every computer, phone and door: “TRUST, BUT VERIFY.” An employee who does their homework can ruin my day.

Third, if it seems too good to be true, it probably is.

Is your company going to hire the team who designed Google’s offices? Magic 8 ball says no.

Lastly, the team who took me to the second location should have found someone else to escort me through the building.

I’ve been doing this job for a couple years now, and almost every job is a variant of this story. Very rarely do I go through an entire assessment without some sort of social engineering.

There are ways to protect yourself and your company from attacks like this. I think it starts by sharing stories like these, and educating and empowering each other to be vigilant.

#social engineering #Sophie Daniel #corporate security

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kaldurcalm · 7 years

Text

granpa goes to a home now whenever grammy goes to her vacation house b/c she’s struggling with anxiety and not dealing well with the loss of freedom that comes with having a relatively suddenly disabled husband, b/c

although he is old, granpa got into a car wreck, then fell and broke his hip; now he uses a cane or walker

i really really really think that he also has depression, and i do not think that’s being appropriately treated. also he probably won’t do therapy

he’s fucking stubborn

he makes me look very easygoing

i am a very stubborn person. i just... pick my battles.

i’m not in charge, so i can’t.... do a lot... to influence things

(normally i’m homeopathic but if he won’t do that! give!! him!! drugs!!! something!!!!!!!!)

mom’s been bending over backwards to help

mom is a mother, with all the work that often entails, she’s a mom with the mom job, which is to say that i am not putting down other moms, simply saying that different moms often choose/are compelled to do the mom job in different ways/capacities, and she does the job of mom on a regular basis, and it is very time-intensive and taxing

she’s working more often, which, in her words, is a 12-hour day

look it’s 15 mins just to get from her car to the airport in a shuttle, b/c parking close to the airport costs moolah, and she’s trying to save, b/c dad’s working less, and anyway she says she’s willing to do it but it’s very obvious that it’s very hard on her, since she’s on her feet for most of that time, moving around, serving people, and it often requires her to work late nights, which is notable b/c she’s a morning person

it’s like 30 mins--1 hour to drive to her parents/the airport, they’re near each other

like it’s a semi-long drive, just to get there, and it’s a major city, so....hooboy traffic

this is one of the largest airports in the entire us, so

mom had a friend date yesterday with someone she rarely sees, b/c this person lives an hour away, and mom loves her a lot, so i volunteered readily to help granpa ‘move’ back home

she thought it would happen the day before that. plans with the friend had been made far in advance.

apparently grammy moved things a day later, fine. but there’s no reason for mom to miss a longstanding friend date when i’m here and also available and completely willing to help

mom saw granpa last week

the week before that, we took him out for a st. patrick’s day/birthday lunch, b/c irish heritage

mom bought him some stuff from party city. a hat, a tacky bow tie and a sparkly thing for the door, as well as those plastic glasses with shamrocks that said 2017 on them. kinda garish, but very sweet. i’d actually wear the hat tbh

mom apparently told granpa that i was coming at 1 pm.

i didn’t know this.

i didn’t remember to call granpa about the visit until the morning of

as i was... driving.... to see him....

i didn’t even have his number until like 5 mins before that

whoops.jpg

i have a class on mondays so i took off around 11, b/c i needed to get everything done in time to get back for that.

i called granpa as he was going to lunch.

i thought, y’know, it’d be nicer to actually go out to eat, b/c of quality and having an outing, and asked repeatedly if it was okay.

it was not okay.

it was not okay at all.

granpa was pissed af that the schedule and the person had changed last minute.

okay, reasonable,

but.

granpa told me i am “the only one he can depend on”

w h a t

what.

what even

how.

THIS IS THE FIRST TIME I’VE GONE TO SEE HIM THIS YEAR

MOM GOES TO SEE HIM FREQUENTLY

okay, his memory’s bad

‘granpa, that’s not true’

‘YES IT IS’

it is entirely possible i should’ve defended my mom more.

the thing is that arguing with a belligerent person means everyone just becomes angrier and nothing is accomplished other than a very heated conversation

we were in a car together. so.

normally he’s nicer around me, but apparently he just got so caught out that day that he was his usual grumpy self

so. we go back. to pack his things.

the things that he brought

the things that he’s been using

in his room

for a week

the things that are his in his room that he brought with him for his personal use during his stay at the home that he was staying in

he goes straight to the chair and sits down.

o.....kay?

does grammy always do every single part of the packing?

all of it?

he is capable of walking and picking up small things.

he is capable of packing a bag.

I HAVE NEVER BEEN TO THAT SPECIFIC ROOM BEFORE AND I HAVEN’T REALLY EVER TOUCHED VERY MUCH OF ANY OF HIS STUFF, I DO NOT KNOW WHERE ANYTHING GOES

whelp.jpg

so then. then.

there’s like... one duffel bag.

the small pantry is full.

the dresser drawers are full.

there’s also stuff in the bathroom. he didn’t even put away his toiletries. like i get that he was prepared to go to eat, but.... like... i procrastinate too... but.... you couldn’t... put them.... in the small bag... after brushing your teeth... that... morning....

i’m not judging.

i’m just WONDERING why he’d do like, NOTHING to prepare or help.

help. me.

anyway what i’m getting at is that there are way too many things for a small duffel bag.

it takes like five trips, just by me, to get everything into my car.

.....i didn’t clean out my car.

WHY AM I LIKE THIS

there’s not much room but WHELP OKAY IN EVERYTHING GOES THAT’LL HAVE TO HAPPEN THAT’LL DO HIGHLANDER THAT’LL DO

someone came to help.

he rang for help while i was gone, did i mention?

he asked for a bag.

they brought a bag.

then he asked for a smaller bag.

a perfectly reasonable request, but i realize how it sounds, and they were like ‘you want... a smaller bag?’

there were smaller trash bags in the restroom.

h e l p m e

that person shared my name.

she packed several large bags (TRASH. BAGS.) and packed as much stuff as she could onto a small cart.

wait did i mention

i used a small walker to carry things

with a basket

i didn’t know how to fucking use this thing, was it supposed to dangle? b/c that meant the basket was liable to fall off. was it supposed to sit on the seat? b/c that meant the basket took up room that could otherwise be used for other things.

wheeling a walker = fun

carrying a walker up the stairs b/c it’s actually faster than the two-story elevator meant primarily for use by old people = not so fun

attempting to use the walker as a vehicle for carrying as many small items as you possibly can = FUCKING OBNOXIOUS

i’m sure we were probably the talk of the nursing home.

the person helping made two trips total

which was, you know, helpful. my point is that between us, it took like seven trips

ALSO, granpa and I got back to the home from lunch around like 12--12:30 or so, lunch was 5 mins away and didn’t take long.

WE FINISHED PACKING AROUND, WHAT? IDK.

BUT I LEFT THEIR HOUSE (which is five mins from the nursing home) AT 3.

3 PM.

IT TOOK LIKE TWO OR THREE HOURS TO MOVE HIS STUFF FOR A WEEK.

H E L P M E

anyway i tried explaining again on the way home

*angrily* I DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHY MY DAUGHTER DIDN’T COME, SHE ABANDONED ME

i almost chewed him out at least twice

i tried but probably not hard enough?

fortunately grammy was willing to have coffee waiting when i asked, i was EXHAUSTED b/c i am... no longer used to waking before noon..... .... whoops

also for whatever reason 3 am is my new bedtime??? why??? this???? IT’S NOT INTENTIONAL. I’M TIRED AF.

i had JUST enough time to get to my 4 pm class.

i didn’t expect it to take THAT long.

also the fact that i barely do anything and mom does a lot and granpa thinks i’m the only one he can depend on is.... very concerning...

dad said she was upset.

she didn’t... show that to me?

oh well

i would’ve kept it from her to spare her feelings, except that she had the right to know

like there’s ‘this is better for you not to know b/c it’ll hurt your feelings’ and then there’s ‘hey this person you’ve done a lot for thinks you’re not dependable’

FUCKING SERIOUSLY

honestly i vote that she does her own thing instead, but she wants to help and she wants to be with her dad b/c she knows he doesn’t have a ton of time left, so w/e

i’ve made my input and she’s a grownup capable of making good decisions, OBVIOUSLY

grammy was very standoffish when i came but that was probably b/c she knew i had to leave quickly and b/c she didn’t really want granpa home

i learned that night that granpa won’t use the senior transportation offered by the city that costs like $1

grammy takes him to the fitness center like every day

so. anyway.

that was fun.

#does anyone have any experience with like #elders with dementia #or whatever #i don't know that he has that #but he says he can't remember things #personal

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sheepydraws · 7 years

Text

And So They Lived (1/6)

Part 1:

There were rumors about Kadic Academy. Schools attract rumors like young starlets, or sudden deaths. Not quite as well as the sudden deaths of young starlets, but schools built out in the suburbs of France can come close. If you ask some people about it they’ll haul out their psychology textbooks. They’ll talk about innocence and fear and transgression. They’ll point out the seemingly endless list of spooky stories surrounding the various Disneyland parks. They’ll mention liminal space and that the human brain isn’t finished developing until one’s early twenties.

Some people will ask those scientists, or realists, or whatever name they use that they think sounds smartest, why it is that the stories all share the same threads. These aren’t your standard, ‘a girl committed suicide there and now her spirt haunts the bathroom’ schoolyard yarns, or the tall tales spun around architectural quirks. Something mind altering went on at Kadic Academy. Something that brought on psychic dreams and deja vu. Both quite common in their own right, but psychic dreams in tandem? Dreams that were exact tellings of the future, but then something would go horribly wrong, something that wouldn’t really happen? Deja vu that wasn’t the run of the mill thought skip, where the past and present seem to merge, tripping over each other for a second, nor the just as regular, ‘I have written three hundred essays in my life and this one feels no different’. No, the deja vu at Kadic Academy was legendary.

You would be minding your own business, walking into the courtyard, say, and it would hit you in a wave that rooted you to the ground. For a moment you would become unstuck in time as you mind replayed the moment as it happened. As though someone had rewound you.

How do you explain that?

A bunch of kids living together, eating the same food together, studying the same things at the same times…Why wouldn’t they have similar psyches? Why wouldn’t some days feel like an endless refrain?

Then why did it stop?

No warning, no concrete ending. They all noticed, but not together. Every one of them looking up individually and saying ‘oh.’ before their world carried on exactly as it had before. Life was normal, and then, suddenly, it was more normal.

This was the reason the creepypasta enthusiasts and horror story connoisseurs remembered Kadic Academy. Not for what happened there, but for the fact that it stopped. There was a mystery there. This wasn’t one class getting infected with mass hysteria. This wasn’t a simple haunting, your everyday paranormal activity. Something happened at Kadic. Something with a distinct beginning, middle, and end.

Perhaps some stranded aliens set up camp there, and they were finally rescued.

Perhaps someone cursed the place, and the curse was broken. (No one would believe that the curse broke itself. A four year curse wasn’t properly auspicious).

Maybe a group of teenagers sacrificed their hearts, minds, and bodies keeping the earth safe from an overly advanced A.I. bent on world domination.

Odd Della Robbia checked his phone for the third time that minute. He forgot his pop rocks in the room and now he had to wait out his sexile in the library with no high fructose corn syrup to keep him company. Ulrich swore he would text as soon as he and Yumi were finished and decent again, and that they would not fall asleep like they had last time.

He was staring out the window at the rapidly darkening sky when his phone buzzed, and his heart jumped into his throat. Adrenaline shot through him and then drained away, leaving him flushed and dizzy.

U kn com bk now.

It didn’t say XANA. It never does anymore. Now all his phone screen ever tells him is: You are a normal teenager, Odd Della Robbia. We’re sorry for any inconvenience that war over the entire planet might have caused you. Please get back to your regularly scheduled programming of being a dork with roommate problems.

Another message popped up on his screen, a real one:

Buy twinkies.

They defeated XANA two months ago, and last week Ulrich and Yumi finally got together. Odd had been kind of expecting it now that William had straight up skipped town. He was in class with them last year, but summer break had come and gone, and he hadn’t come back. He wrote Jeremie an e-mail, promising he wouldn’t tell anyone about Lyoko. Actually, all I want to do is forget.

At first they had worried, but William assured them he was fine, and that he wasn’t involved in XANA’s plans. Which was good, since last semester XANA went nuts. A constant onslaught of attacks as Jeremie whittled down Aelita’s code, till he finally realized that it wasn’t Aelita who was encrypted.

Or something like that. Odd hadn’t been able to understand whatever epiphany Jeremie had been having over his speaker while lasers were burning through his own skin.

The five of them stayed at school all summer, or at the factory more like, jumping into Lyoko every time Aelita felt the slightest vibration. Jeremie worked double and then triple time at the supercomputer. Days slid into days. Not in the soft, warm way summer vacation was supposed to, but the overlap that happens when your day has three breakfasts and two dinners because you still haven’t gone to sleep.

And then it was over.

Odd felt like a train that had run out of track. His momentum kept him sliding forward, sending up sparks and scoring lines into the earth, but he was no longer going anywhere.

Odd paused just outside his dorm and took a deep breath. There is a quality to the air in autumn, as though you could hit it with a tuning fork and it would sing. He tried to focus on it, tired to banish the sense that he was utterly lost in a foreign city. A slow rise of panic that you try desperately to hold down, because there is nothing you can do if you panic-no one you know you can go to for help-which only makes the panic worse.

Honestly, it was probably just because he had been kicked out of his room with nowhere to go. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t have a girlfriend to canoodle now that he wasn’t fighting for his life. Unfortunately, most girls remembered him as that guy that they dated for like two weeks in the eighth grade, who dumped them after they kissed. His high school dating life couldn’t even boast the long term rivalry dripping with pining and sexual tension that at least Yumi and Ulrich had at one point.

Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz

Odd fished his phone out of his jacket pocket. He started to type, Got yr darn twinkies, before he registered what the text actually was.

Ulrich, I need to talk to you. I’m in my room.

The name at the top of the screen: Sissi.

It took Odd another minute to figure out why Sissi’s phone number was even in his contact list to begin with.

Sissi had always had Ulrich’s number, but last year, before all XANA broke loose, she began texting him all the time. Ulrich shared the messages with them, but he never replied. Which meant Sissi kept trying. I’ve got cookies-and-cream pocky, want some? Is this a cute cat or what? What was the Calc homework for tonight?

Odd had to admit, he admired her tenacity.

Maybe that was why, a month later when XANA hacked their phones and they had to steal other people’s to communicate, Odd found himself with Sissi’s phone in it’s huge pink teddy bear case, and he happened to change Ulrich’s phone number to his in her contacts. Maybe it was because there was a fifty percent chance that they would Return To The Past and it wouldn’t stick. It was probably just cause he found it funny and Ulrich was getting ready to block her.

He wasn’t sure what his excuse was for slipping into the Kendrick dorm instead of Cohen. If Ulrich had actually received that text he wouldn’t have given a fuck. He might even have dragged Yumi down to Sissi’s room and explained to her in no uncertain terms who his girlfriend was. Odd, on the other hand, was probably looking forward to a night of getting a sugar high and crashing as he watched surrealist films. At least Sissi might prove entertaining.

Sissi was clearly taken aback when she realized it was Odd at her door. Odd was surprised: Did she actually believe that Ulrich would come when she called? After all the evidence to the contrary? Never mind the fact that he was here at all might be a little confusing.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, but her tone was flat, without the disgust Odd was expecting.

“Got your text.” Odd said, wiggling his phone in front of her, though it was a halfhearted wiggle at best. It was strange. He didn’t really have the energy to be cheeky, and she didn’t seem up to being a total brat. Maybe they were both coming down with something.

“I texted Ulrich.” She said, and her voice broke on his name.

It pissed Odd off. It wasn’t like they had been a couple and he had dumped her. As far as Odd knew Ulrich had never had genuine interest in Sissi, but here she was, acting like she was the victim in all this, and not the asshole who just spent his last ten bucks at a vending machine.

“Yeah, well, as his fucking lackey, he sent me to tell you to leave him alone.”

Sissi’s nose wrinkled, but her grip on the frame of her door turned her knuckles white. “I don’t see why he couldn’t come tell me that himself.”

Odd shrugged, “I guess he didn’t feel like pulling out of Yumi long enough to come down.” His stomach twisted, his anger folding in on itself. He wasn’t sure if he meant to upset Sissi or Ulrich with those words.

At least they got Sissi to recoil. “You’re disgusting. You all think you’re so tough, teasing people, doing god-knows-what in the woods all the time, but when you’re alone you’re just stupid kids.”

“Trust me, Sissi, you do not want to get into a fight with me.” But Odd leaned forward, got into her space. Dared her.

“You’re the one who’s looking for a fight.” Sissi said, not leaning towards him, but holding her ground. “I just wanted to talk to Ulrich.”

“When are you going to understand that he doesn’t want to talk to you?”

“When are you going to understand-“ Sissi began, jabbing her pointer finger into Odd’s chest. He grabbed her wrist on reflex, so fast his skin made a slapping noise against hers.

She gasped, which he expected, and he almost laughed before the nails of her other hand tore down his cheek. Pain exploded behind his eyes as he felt his skin gave way to her manicure. It was just a scratch. One that drew blood, but a scratch nonetheless.

If they had had that stupid conversation the year before Odd would have shrugged it off, or threatened to tell her father, or, yeah, maybe he would have just given her one clean slap across the face and walked away.

But that was last year when he more than knew the difference between life and death. This year all he knew was that adrenaline was coursing through him, his cheek throbbed, and he could feel his heartbeat in his ears for the first time in months. He didn’t stop to consider all his options. He slammed his fist knuckles first into the side of Sissi’s face.

She staggered back in shock. Odd’s brain caught up with him, and began blaring kill bill sirens.

“Fuck you!” Sissi screamed, “I don’t want your stupid boyfriend!”

“You nearly gouged my eye out for him!”

“You-you-“ Sissi’s hand trembled as she touched her cheek. Odd saw tears well up in her eyes, and the anger in him faded. This was fucked up.

“I don’t want your stupid, fucking-“ She began to cry.

Odd stood in her doorway, guilt making him desperate to leave and unsure if he should. He wiped blood off his cheek and was surprised when he pulled his hand away. He had forgotten how vibrant it was, how it stained skin with thick, rusty streaks.

Sissi had curled in on herself, putting her head level with his stomach. It was strange being this close to her when she was crying her eyes out. He wanted to close the door and leave her alone, but he couldn’t abandon her.

Odd heard the click of a door opening down the hall and Sissi stood up with a gasp. She grabbed the front of Odd’s jacket and hauled him into her room, closing the door behind him.

Odd was overwhelmed by the scent of girly things. Shampoo and lotion and perfume, and who knew what else, fruit and floral and sweetness so strong he could taste artificial flavoring. It almost distracted him from the fact that this might be the first time he was in Sissi’s room with her permission.

Sissi pressed her ear to the door, still clutching the front of his shirt. Her hand shook as she listened, bumping against his chest. Odd pried her fingers off, but once he dropped her hand he made the mistake of looking at her. Tears continued to flow down her face though she seemed completely focused on straining her ears past the cheap plywood. Something about the image made Odd lean against the door too, just so he would have an excuse to close his eyes. He heard someone knock at someone else’s room. He could make out voices, but not words. The other person’s door closed and there was silence.

“Okay,” Sissi said, peeling herself off the door, her voice still thick. “I don’t think anyone’s going to come check.”

Odd nodded as though conspiring with Sissi felt perfectly natural.

Sissi opened her door a crack, but then turned back to Odd. “Tell Ulrich that the only reason I wanted to see him was because I don’t care about him anymore, and Yumi can stop glaring at me like she thinks I’m going to rip my clothes off every time I talk to him.” She flicked moisture from the corners of her eyes and and in a moment became the same cold, shiny Sissi Odd knew and understood. All poise and selfishness.

“Kay.” Odd said, because this was good. The world has returned to order. He felt like he was on solid ground again after that sudden white-water rafting interval.

But the image of Sissi crying, her face as red and crumpled as any other person’s, continued to shake him as he walked back to his room, like he had been at sea for months and couldn’t adjust to the fact that the ground had stopped moving beneath his feet.

Part 2

#sissi delmas #elizabeth delmas #odd della robbia #code lyoko #fanfiction #multi-chapter #five parts in all #writing #alternate ending #(see: an actual ending)#odd has mild ptsd #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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poptarts-and-rainbows · 7 years

Text

It’s been 96 hours.

Personal story/venting time. I’m trying to get sober.

I don’t have any friends where I’m located- which is my own fault, I have a tendency to isolate myself while I warm up to new environments enough to feel comfortable talking to people (and I’m moving again in a couple months, so I honestly don’t really even see the point in going through the effort of getting to know people and learning to care about them, just to leave and have to say goodbye and hurt again in March).

Plus, I’ve been spiraling for a bit, so the couple of long-distance friends that I *can* talk to about things are probably starting to get sick of my drama. The last few weeks have been especially difficult and they’ve had to help me a lot. Not to mention, the one is on vacation in Vegas right now and the other is hanging out with her boyfriend tonight, and I don’t want to bother her.

So… here I am, screaming into the void of Tumblr again.

I’ll keep all other details under the cut because it’s kind of a lot, and most people won’t care or want to see this all over their dash.

Anyway. I’ve had a problem with drinking for… close to the last 9 (ish) years. The first couple of years weren’t actually problematic levels, but that’s when I first learned I love the burn of alcohol. Especially vodka. Before I could purchase my own supply I didn’t really drink all of that often- it was just hard to get my hands on and I hadn’t learned how to function during a hangover yet, so one good binge could keep me tied over for a while, back before I finally turned 21.

Then, as it goes, things got progressively worse. I developed a severe problem quite rapidly. Honestly… it started almost immediately. I guess it was always just waiting.

The weekend of my 21st birthday, the very first time I legally went to a bar, I nearly died- Trexx. I didn’t know it at the time, but my friends were trying to get me to come out, so they took me to the best gay bar in all of Syracuse. Plus, Thursday nights? College night. Buy one get one free, all night, and the best Drag Show I’ve ever seen (I’ve been to a few since then- in different States and in other countries).

My birthday was on a Monday that year. That night I went out to a restaurant and my friend bought me a beer with dinner- but liquor has always been my vice (although I did foray into the world of wine for a while, as it is more socially acceptable to be a wino than drink a bottle of vodka alone), so I sipped politely on my glass of Blue Moon and just bid my time until Thursday.

When Thursday finally came, not only did I throw back 18 drinks in about four hours, my dumb drunk-ass barricaded myself in the bathroom stall (of which there were only two) to throw up, and then drifted in/out of consciousness for several minutes. With there only being two stalls, people noticed- and it was actually one of the Drag Queens got me out.

I couldn’t even see clearly when I opened my eyes, but I recognized her green wig. I’d spoken to her earlier in the night, one of my friends was a “Townie” (born and raised in Syracuse, but also going to the school) and knew her, and she’d bought me a drink in celebration of my big day, and gave me the chip for the second free drink too. When she helped pull me to my feet, she called me sweetie and asked if I was ok. I brushed the concern off with an easy smile and told her I would go look for my friends- she let me go.

When I went into the main room, the bouncer did not. I guess I was obviously out of it. I was probably stumbling and about to pass out, or puke right there on the floor. I still couldn’t see anything, but I still remember hearing him say “this one is done” and feeling him grab my shoulders. The next thing I knew, I was outside on my hands and knees in the snow. I wanted to just lay down, but I kept thinking “I’m right in front of the door. If I stay here, I’ll be in the way and people will step on me.”

So I got up, wearing nothing but flats, skinny jeans, and a t-shirt, in the middle of winter in Upstate New York, and stumbled down the road. I found a stoop about a block away and sat down. I threw up over the guard rail and stayed there until the bar was closing, about two hours later. People had passed by pretty consistently, a few had asked if I was ok- but, because I couldn’t talk, I would just hold up my thumb and they would keep moving. One group, at closing time, stopped and asked if I want to Syracuse University- I nodded, they said they would take me back to campus, and I reluctantly agreed. I couldn’t stop shivering. Then one of the girls in the group recognized me, I had pink streaks in my hair at the time and we’d also met earlier that night through my Townie friend, so she went back inside to get my friends who had been freaking out for hours. I made it home fine, but I missed all of my classes the next day and threw up until Monday.

That was just the beginning. My first real introduction ended in disaster, but it didn’t stop me.

I was recovered by the next weekend and did it again. Then again… and again. I learned not to wander off, but I always drank hard and fast. I didn’t even make it to my 22nd birthday before I had friends telling me they were worried. That summer, my mom gave me a book about drinking too much (”Smashed”). The author actually also went to Syracuse. I skimmed it with mild interest, but she started drinking when was 14. I was an adult. What I did was legal, and nothing really bad had ever really happened. I was fine.

The next semester began and I got better at hiding it. I bought bottles and drank, secretly, in my room when I was supposed to be studying- it was cheaper than going out anyways, and nobody else had to know. When my friends and I did go out, I would split off “to meet another group” after so I could go get obliterated at the bar closest to my apartment, without worrying anybody. It was college, anyways. Land of keg stands and unlimited beer pong. Everyone did it, I was fine.

Right before my 23rd birthday, I joined the Army. During the first 8 weeks (Basic Training), there was no alcohol. Hell, we were excited when we were allowed to have chocolate milk! Through that time, I didn’t miss drinking- but, it was mostly because they literally worked us to exhaustion every single day. There was no time to miss it.

After Basic, we left to our Advanced Individual Training locations (technical training), but we still lived under a lot of rules. We could earn different privileges/freedoms, but we still technically weren’t supposed to drink, but it didn’t take long for the people who earned the right to leave base early in our training cycle to start coming back to us with stories of bars, parties, and getting wasted.

By that time, I was close to 3 months sober- and I hadn’t even had to try! I didn’t crave it right away, but they reminded me it existed. I didn’t earn my off-post privileges for a while, so I had one of my friends smuggle me back a bottle of vodka in a jug of orange juice as soon as I could- and, oh god, the first familiar burn of that liquor… it felt like going home. Getting my friends who were allowed off base to bring me back alcohol was harder than getting older students to buy it for me when I was a Freshman, though, so I was still fine.

Once we graduated and all joined the “Real” Army, however, those restrictions were gone. When I was off duty, nobody cared what I did (drinking-wise), as long as I was back by morning and able to do my job.

In the beginning, I was still new to the Army. I was still scared of everyone, this whole new world I lived it, and I desperately wanted to make a good impression. So I only drank on the weekends, Friday and Saturday nights, like a sensible person.

Did I still drink excessively those two nights a week, loosing track of how many shots I had after eight or nine? Did I eventually start finishing a whole bottle of vodka in a single weekend, alone? Yeah… and then that bottle became one and a half. Then I started to chase my hard liquor with wine coolers. Eventually, two nights weren’t enough. I started throwing Wednesday night in to the mix, too- it was middle of the week, after all! It was just to get my through to the weekend. Then it was any night I knew I didn’t have to run the next morning, because running while you’re hung over really sucks (and when you sweat it smells like straight liquor, and other people know). Then I stopped even caring about that.

There were months, on and off, that weren’t so bad, of course. I either just, naturally, didn’t feel like drinking during those times, or our training schedule was just too intensive. When things got bad, my roommate and some of my closer friends would periodically express concern, so I would back off. I wouldn’t drink for a few nights in a row, keep it on the down low during the week, sip on more water between shots during the next couple of weekends, and learn to throw up quieter in the bathroom- until people stopped looking so closely again, because people only see what they want to see. Then the cycle would start over.

It’s the Army, though. Just like college- most of us drink, and more than we should. It’s part of the culture! It’s what is expect from us and among us. With the company I kept… occasionally there was concern, yes, but most of them weren’t much better off than me. I was still fine.

Until I wasn’t.

Last year happened- and… I’d lost my best friend (tag: “Dear A”). I couldn’t sleep. I could barely function. I hid in the bathroom and cried at work. I had headaches all of the time experienced the second most severe depressive episode of my life. I didn’t know what to do, I was alone in the beginning there too, so I turned to alcohol- the solace that was always there for me, that was never too busy, or left, the thing that could make me forget how much everything hurt- and things started to get out of control, more so than ever before.

At first it was excused, laughed off- the military drinks. In Korea we drink more. I was expected to be sloppy at first, but I never found my groove. I started ignoring my limits. I put myself in dangerous situations, and things did happen there. I blacked out more often than not. Sometimes I couldn’t even find my room. I would fall, get hurt, and not remember how it happened. I even chipped my front tooth. I spent more than one morning puking at work, for hours. My supervisor had to peel me off my floor and roll me onto my side on more than one occasion. I was sent to the hospital three times. Eventually, I was given an ultimatum- get my shit together, or be forced to see professionals. I got my shit together. For a while.

My last couple of weeks in Korea passed without any incident anyone else knew about. I still drank, but it was like before, when I could manage it and keep it to myself. I did it quietly, and nobody knew the difference.

I got to Kentucky in the beginning of June- it’s been full two months, and in those two months months, I have literally spent more days drunk than I have spent sober. Not a drink or two after work, not pleasantly buzzed, but drunk. It’s been mostly harmless, I don’t leave my room. I’ve cried a bit, slept on my kitchen floor a couple of times, and have had to make a few phone calls to be talked off the ledge on a few separate nights, but mostly… I still thought I was fine.

Then drinking every day, it became- “hey, I woke up still drunk this morning, I’m going to have one shot- just one- before work.” Then that shot had to be a double instead, of course, because what’s one shot really going to do for me? I drove to work, without incident (“this actually isn’t that hard”), drove back home for lunch. Three more shots, no food. Go back to work. Pick up a new bottle when I was on my way home at the end of the day. Drink until I pass out. Repeat.

Last Friday, while blacked out, I apparently stumbled my way out of my room and towards the parking lot- some people who work in the same office building as me saw and asked what I was doing. According to them, I said I was going to get my cigarettes from my car- but because I could barely stand up straight, they sat me down and gave me some of theirs instead, and then made sure I got back to my room safe. The thing is, I didn’t have any cigarettes in my car. I had run out Thursday night, and knew that before I started drinking. Which meant, I had planned on driving.

Either this stops, I do better, or something I can’t take back is going to happen, and it’s going to happen soon. I can feel it. Most alcoholics don’t change until they hit rock bottom, I was reading the A.A. site, and I’ve gotten a few books, and that’s what they all say. Alcoholics refuse to admit they have a problem until there is overwhelming evidence that proves differently. They argue they’re fine, that they can do better, that it isn’t really that bad… all things I tell myself too. I don’t want to have to fall that far. I don’t want to mess up my life forever, or end somebody else’s. I don’t want to crash and burn any more than I already have. So far I’ve been lucky. I’ve been given passes I shouldn’t have been, and more time than I deserved to do the right thing.

I’m Irish and Native American. I was practically bred to be an alcoholic. My father is one, he doesn’t have his license anymore because of it. His father was too, and that contributed to his death. I didn’t grow up close to either of them, but their blood is my blood. I grew up with my mother and step-father, though, and he is also an alcoholic. A violent and mean one, and he helped raised me since I was four. Genetic pre-disposition. Turbulent childhood household. Emotional abandonment. Issues with depression and self-worth. I’m text book.

At exactly 12:00am on 1 August 2017, I dumped the last of my vodka down the drain. I have now been dry for almost 96 hours, for 4 days. It’s the longest I’ve been sober in the last 2 months, and I am craving it bad. I miss it. The first day, my stomach and head hurt (long after a hangover would typically start), I broke out in sweat, and I couldn’t figure out why. Then I ended up having to pull a 24 hour shift. I slept for 4 hours the morning after, and then was too wound up to sleep at all that night. I’ve managed about 3.5 solid hours a night, since then. I’ve been agitated since I first woke up on the 1st, especially today, I almost threw my phone across the room earlier because I kept hitting the wrong button and it wasn’t doing what I wanted it to do. I had to put it away and take my third shower today, just calm down. I can’t focus. I can’t sit still, my leg is always bouncing, my foot kicking, or fingers tapping. I feel empty and sad. Now, I’m not only lonely for people, I’m lonely for my alcohol too. The holes I’ve always had are still gaping, but now there’s no vodka to fill them.

The thing is… I’ve tried to quit before. I pretend I haven’t. I was once even asked if I had every tried to stop, and I said no. I looked back at all those times and told myself “Well, I wasn’t being serious then. I was just doing it to see how long I could go. There was no actual reason to quit. I only needed a break for a couple weeks. I never said I was going to stop forever.” and I always swore “I’ll do better now. My tolerance is back down a little bit, so I’ll control it better. I’ll just have a few, one or two nights a week.”

I never did, though. Maybe a few weeks would pass where I could drink in moderation, but then I would have a particularly bad Tuesday, or something, and drink an extra night- and, eventually, two shots became three, and then three would stop feeling like three, because my tolerance would come back, and three would become four- and after four, I stop caring that I set a limitation for myself.

Honestly, I don’t think I’m the sort of person who can drink in moderation, and that scares me. I want to be the type of person who can just throw back a couple and still have a good night, maybe have just a glass of wine to relax, but I don’t think I’ll be able to do that- if I want to get this under control, I know, rationally, I will have to stop forever. I’m going to have to give up my one constant and reliable comfort. Usually I only make it a few days, usually five, because then the weekend has come again. Sometimes I can resist during the week, but once the weekend comes, and I don’t have work to distract me… it becomes almost impossible. Outside of training, when I literally did not have physical access to alcohol, only one time have I made it to 10.

Today is Day 4. Today is Friday, the night I have consistently been drunk since I’ve come to Kentucky. The cravings are bad. There’s a liquor store about 5 minutes down the road, but I’m laying here and typing this instead. The top of my foot has been knocking against my bed’s headboad for the last hour, and I can feel a bruise forming. I want to say “just one last night of letting go, and I’ll do better after” but I know I won’t.

I know I need to stop, but I don’t want to. There’s a voice in the back of my head that is screaming it’s ok if it kills me, if I drink until I can’t see and end up crashing my car into a tree, or downing a bottle of pills because I just don’t care anymore- but that’s wrong. I know it’s wrong, so I’m trying to stop. I’m pulling at my hair and pacing my room just to get through this, even though I don’t really want to. Drinking might kill me, but this feels like it will. I need to do this, but I feel like I need to do everything myself, or it doesn’t really count as having done it- and I don’t know if I can handle this one.

#terryn talks #personal #story time #tw alcohol #tw alcoholism #tw: alcohol #tw: alcoholsim #alcoholic #tw: alcoholic #alcohol abuse #alcohol recovery #i'm attempting to get sober #i'm sorry #i'm losing my mind #i don't have anyone to talk to #rambling #if anybody would like to offer advice #i'm totally here for it #sobriety

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authoramandawilson · 6 years

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I screwed up.

Severely.

I committed the biggest, most horrendous crime as a writer and mental health advocate.

I forgot to update my blog over the last month.

*Cue Psycho violin screech music*

In my defence, most of September and October have been a whirlwind of non-stop hustling and bustling, and it was only my birthday weekend past that I realized how much I put my blog on the back burner in an attempt to keep up with other writing demands.

And let’s be realistic, being a stay-at-home, freelance writer doesn’t mean I get lots of free time. Most days I’m barred up in my writing den with my cats and dog, smashing my keyboard as I try to get projects done while fuelled by one too many ice caps and chai lattes.

Should I have been paying more attention to my blog? Yes. Am I an idiot for putting off this recent post? Oh, yeah! Could I have been more attentive? Hell yes, but sometimes life has a way of drifting to more pressing matters, and sometimes you gotta sacrifice in one area in exchange for something else.

In lieu of putting Fighting the Good Fight on a brief hiatus, I spent the last six weeks focusing on promoting Lemonade Stand and travelling for my unofficial (and very underpaid) book tour. I spent over two weeks travelling around Newfoundland, personally delivering books to fans, friends, and family. I racked up km’s on my Rav, I spent way too much money at Tim Hortons (on ice caps and blueberry muffins, of course) and took a few days here and there to spend time with long-lost friends and family.

How I kept up with everything over the last six weeks is beyond me, and the thought that after Tuesday we’re heading into the Christmas season, I’ll be lucky if I keep up with all the demands and expectations. (Lets hope I do!)

That’s not to say I didn’t have fun over the last few weeks either. I get to spend every day doing something I love – writing and more writing. I get to lose myself in my manuscripts and recently, I’m really into writing a lot of poetry. (Thanks Rupi Kaur!) At the end of the day, it’s a lot of pain and fun, but I couldn’t be happier.

(Now if only I could stick to a better sleep schedule.)

So in ode to a crazy, fun, busy, and overwhelming six weeks, I decided to compile a list of all the adventures I have been losing myself in. So settle in, grab an ice cap, and enjoy the highlight reel.

Getting to Play Band Groupie to Rough Hands

What’s better than best friends and great local music?

When they’re together of course!

I was lucky enough to have my friends from the band Rough Hands on the west coast, lending them a place to crash and spending time together toward the end of their Eastern Canada tour. It was a very impromptu stay, but we had fun and I was thankful to get to see some faces I haven’t seen in a while. Their show was absolutely fantastic and I was giddy to play band groupie for the weekend.

Seriously, check them out. Luke and this band mates are making some great music. They’re 100% gonna make it to the big leagues – no doubt about it!

(Just remember who offered you a bed and shower when you’re rich and famous some day. 😉 )

Check them out here and here!

*Out of the Dark is available on iTunes!*

Book Launch and Unofficial Province Book Tour

Mid-September, after I spent several days personally signing books and writing messages to all the 110 wonderful people who personally bought Lemonade Stand off of me, I packed up my Rav4 and headed across NL to promote and deliver my book to masses.

Through my book tour, I got to meet a lot of new people, listen to other people’s struggles with mental health issues, and talk book writing. It was a great and exhausting two weeks travelling around (and getting lost a few times!). Don’t worry, I plan to honour this experience in a future blog post. (Coming soon!)

Chris de Burg Concert and St. John’s Adventures

In all fairness, I had other motives besides my book tour to head across the province. I had tickets booked to Chris de Burg’s concert with my mama. Having Mom raise me on the right kind of music, I have only been waiting to see him live since I was thirteen. With the launch of his new cd A Better World, it didn’t take much begging and pleading for Mom to agree to come with me.

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I was excited beyond belief when he walked out on stage. I laughed. I cried. I sang at the top of my lungs. (Sorry Mom.) I danced wildly around in my seat. (Sorry Mom.) I clapped a lot and cheered super loud (Again, sorry Mom.), but I had the time of my life. One of the best concerts I’ve been to at Mile One (and that includes The Backstreet Boys). And lets just say, I wasn’t the only one losing my cool when he ended the show with “Patricia the Stripper”. (Right, Mom? 😉 )

I also planned things for my wedding and finally got to say Yes to the Dress! It took a few hours, a mild panic attack and a few happy tears later, but I’m glad to finally have another item checked off the Thomas Wedding list.

In addition to all the wedding fun, I curbed my adventures back to book research and with the help of my best friend, I spent some time exploring St. John’s, making sure that I was getting details and descriptions right for my upcoming NL novel.

Besides I got to spend a lot of time on Signal Hill, taking in the view (despite the cold) and I finally got to see the Canada 150 sign while getting to pose for some pictures with my bestie at the historic site. I also got to see Quidi Vidi for the first time ever, which was a real treat. (It’s pretty bad I lived here my whole life and I’m only now seeing great land marks. Fail.)

Despite acting like a tourist, I did get a lot of information for my manuscript and I know it will all pay off in the long run when my NL novel is finally complete.

You’re welcome in advance.

Working on my NL Novel

Once I concluded my book tour, and book research, and my mini vacation home, I finally mucked back to Corner Brook and remained held up in my writing den for weeks on end. While still trying to working on getting We Were Fighters published (and exploring self-publishing options as well), I’ve been spending a lot of time on my new manuscript, a fiction novel based in my home province of Newfoundland.

Knowing that only publishing houses here on The Rock will only take on NL content manuscripts, I’m hoping that this could be my first foot in the door to getting my novels out there. Within three weeks I had banged out over a hundred plus pages, turning my eyes and brain to absolute mush. As I mentioned before, being a writer is lots of pain and fun, and despite being hooked on caffeine and severely sleep deprived, I’m having a lot of fun writing this novel and creating a small taste of NL culture.

But with the goal to have the manuscript finished before Christmas, I still have a long way to go! Writer’s block had me stuck a few times and as a haphazard writer who doesn’t write in linear fashion, I find myself getting caught up in wanting to write the exciting parts vs. “the middle”. A terrible flaw on my behalf.

But don’t worry, I’m a pretty disciplined writer and with less than a hundred pages to go, I’m hoping that by 2018, this could be a potential published work.

Wish me luck.

Hiking and Halloween Birthday

Of course, October isn’t my favourite month just because CB is absolutely one of the most beautiful places in the world during the fall. I also get to look forward to a string of friends’ birthdays (including my own) and of course, Halloween and lots of horror movies!

While admittedly, October brought about a brief depression episode, I still managed to trudge through most of my writing duties, even if it felt like pulling teeth some days (and bouts of relentless anxiety). A week leading up to my birthday, I could barely pull myself out of bed, and tragically, I lost one of my childhood pets. My dear cat Sam, who was lucky to have eighteen long years of life. He made his journey over the Rainbow Bridge the day before my birthday, so celebrating this year was followed with fleeting moments of sadness and mourning.

Rest peacefully, old man. ❤

But despite losing one of my oldest pals, I did get to spend a wonderful weekend in Gros Morne, hiking with the crowd to celebrate one of my friend’s birthdays. While it was cold, we were severely hungover, and it snowed, we managed to hike Green Gardens without coming across any bears and barely escaping the obvious signs of a huge-ass bull moose. All in all, a successful trip up the Coast.

Thankfully though, I got to end October on a high note. Not only did my birthday fall on a Friday this year, I also got to have a Halloween birthday party with my best friends. Following a week of bad anxiety and fatigue, and the death of my kitty cat, my birthday turned out to be a great night of friends, fun, and laughter – and really how could I ask for more?

Considering I spent the last two Halloweens either working or stuck on the couch with the stomach flu, I was glad I finally got to put my Phoenix costume to good use. After a few weeks of practicing cosplay makeup and putting finishing touches on my costume, I was able to bring one of my favourite X-Men characters to life. Of course, Zack gave Hugh Jackman a run for his money as a Logan/Wolverine look-a-like.

Besides, we had fun putting off a very funny – and very drunk – photo shoot. We had comic book heroes from all universes, we had some crossover hybrid characters, and witches. But hey, having Lego Batman there was definitely the most fun – especially when trying to watch your bestie struggle to drink through that face mask.

My birthday was a great end to a fast-paced month. Despite all the chaos, and work loads, and the threats of approaching deadlines, it was nice to take a few nights just to enjoy company with those I care about most. Sometimes we get lost in the mundane of every day life, and sometimes we get too caught up in our own lives to remember to spend time with others. So I was grateful for the few moments of peace and hilarity in a busy schedule. ❤

Even though I had lost track of time and let six weeks zip by without realizing how much I had been neglecting my duties to my blog, I am thankful for the chaos and havoc that has been my life for the last several weeks.

Autumn has come and gone before I realized it, and give it a few more day, there will likely be snow on the ground. While I am no where near ready for winter, and even less prepared for the enclosing Christmas season, I’ve been reflecting lately on how lucky I have been this last year – getting to spend my time perusing my writing career. It’s far from perfect, and I’m making nickels compared to the dollars I was making serving tables, but I’m the happiest I’ve been in months, and that’s all that matters. Happiness is all that matters – it’s that hard and that simple.

So what if it means cutting back on ice caps and lattes or spending more nights eating in than out? Being “poor” doesn’t mean being unhappy. I had a great fall and instead of ending this blog post on a big sappy metaphor – how my life is changing like the colour of the leaves (See what I did there?), I’m getting one more season closer to my dreams.

So sometimes life gets hectic and I ignore my duty to my blog.

Sometimes I fall behind on writing duties at the expense of other writing projects, and sometimes I forget to reach out to friends and family more often than not – but that’s life. I’ve been on a wild ride these last two months and I can only wait with anxious breath about the impending winter adventures that I’m sure are in store.

Worst comes to shove, I can always write an apology blog post to make up for it all.

So here’s to next season, and the next blog post. I��ll see you guys soon.

And as always,

Fight the good fight.

-A xo

Adventures, (Unofficial) Book Tour, Endless Ice Caps, Manuscript Writing, and Blog Fails I screwed up. Severely. I committed the biggest, most horrendous crime as a writer and mental health advocate.

#blog #booktour #fightingthegoodfight #lemonadestand #lifeupdate #Travel

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automationgeeks · 7 years

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Most writers are looking in all the wrong places ie Elance, Craigslist ads, content mills. It proves the point that many of us are aware that there are so many people making a living online doing what they enjoy most, and blogging or writting is just one of these many avenues. You see, thats the power of the internet, the amazing wonders of how online marketing and e commerce actually can there're ways the earn when you don't write well in English. Companies in countries everywhere need marketing, in almost any language. Regular readers know I'm not here the pretend everyone can be a perfect, wellpaid freelance writer. Haven't read it yet but I bet some amount of his ideas and yours coincide. Ok, and now one of the most important parts. Now look, the research behind any post needs the be By the way I recently joined Jon Morrow's Serious Bloggers Only community and he has developed a course about how the write an insane quantity of words in a short time period.

I can see this post is up for over four years and you're still getting traffic and comments.

Practice. Thanks again for posting. Seriously. Your post here begs the question, and I'm sure you answer it somewhere, as the how you manage your time the write so many highquality posts in one month. Consequently, whenever having the write 3 4" sthe ries any week the keep my job, my training ground was 12 years as a staff writer. So there's no writer's block in this world. Now I'm glad I did. Should I really be sharing this much information about my earnings? A well-known fact that is. I actually sort of had an attack of insecurity, right after I filed this post.

Reallife' information on getting paid helps people get it and move up the better pay.

Hi Carol -I loved how you explain the blog subject, can you give me some advice if I am new beginner in blogging where must I start, how do I find businesses who need a person the blog, training, the pics the write upon?

I will really appreciate the help. By the way I get most of my clients off their seeing my other paid blogs, as I say in the post. On the p of that, I also get clients from the Search Engine promotion I've done on my writer site that makes it rank well for relevant searches for me just like Seattle freelance writer. Thanks for the inspiration!

Guess who there new blogger is!?

I the ld them how a blog would benefit them and expressed my interest in writing for them.

Therefore this post inspired me the write the a 'high profile' company that I thought would benefit from a blog. I used the make a bunch of my money from paid blogging but after a while I realized I was building up someone elses asset and had the rethink. I started outsourcing and taking a cut while working on other projects. Besides, I do prefer the get paid for guest posting, as this post details see my list of good sites for that. Oh, no offense taken that's exactly why I've quit one of my bigger paid blogging gigs since writing the piece, the focus on more 'time efficent' article writing, and on my own IP similar the the Webinar mentioned above.

Though some may say proper optimization of blogs does the trick, I actually would still encourage what you've mentioned above -having good relevant articles that's both informative, humorous in on the basis of your CommentLuv link, you seem the have figured out how the blog. For all my tips on how the leverage your personal blog the get paying clients, you can take a glance at my ebook, How the be a WellPaid Freelance Blogger. Happy the hear how others are doing it. Anyway, hUGE opportunity is out there. I wrote a blog a while back that you can get them really like this. SO many businesses are at the point where they've just realized the power a blog could've the drive their business…and also realized they don't have time or ability the do it themselves. Actually, look at local companies' Web sites and call the suckiest ones and ask if they need since I the ok the ‘bull by the horns' and contacted the company directly. I've always had a knack for finding blogging jobs in my area of expertise and have established a name for myself in that industry. Then again, I consider myself a workingclass blogger. Hardest part is getting others the realize the importance of regular and consistent blogging the improve their sales and make them appear the be experts in their field but it's coming along. Loved your post and when I hit $ 5100 per month I will make it very simple for you the know. Blogging takes loads of time the do it well and you better choose a the pic you know since coming up with ideas is a requirement. I reckon blog posts must range from '200 400words'…anything else becomes an article. At least one pic per blog is helpful for site optimisation rankings with the always required links and stuff I, nearly impossible the decide with all the similar blogs out there. Any good ideas? I'm attempting the determine what the blog about the make some income. I have a few old blogs but they have been personal. I am a foodie if that helps. I have linked the website in my blog. Anyways, I can't thank you enough! You are the queen of blog info on the web. Nevertheless, you might take a glance at my list of sites that pay. Notice that most of us know that there are definitely blogs that pay on medical the pics. Now please pay attention. Thank you for all of your digital support and kind commentary. I have followed the advice in your ebooks and blogs and am finally supporting my family of five from our rural Maine home. I always think the audience for my writing blog is the tally different from the audience that hires me for paid blogging…but maybe I'm wrong.

I know bloggers who do that, though don't know if it works for them.

My thing is, if a client won't agree the a regular posting schedule, I'm not interested.

They have the do at least once a week. Otherwise, I know it won't be successful, and I need it the work so they'll refer me! I've never worked for under $ 50 a blog like many do. Not sure I the tally follow, lifespolitikin…I think most readers here should consider making $ 5K a month for blogging a dream come true, depending on plenty of the rates I've heard out there.

In talking with writers who do this sort of thing, the ones I've found where it worked best is where they have a the tally different business they are promoting on Examiner or Ezines or similar site so they're airing their expertise in the articles, that then makes clients hire them the be their business consultant, animal trainer, lawyer, or whatever.

Personally, I'm pretty sure I need a big bit of that with a family of five.

Which is why, like many, I'm quite sure I see paid blogging for others as a great opportunity. I also find it pretty fun! It's money in the hand, the pay that grocery bill, therefore this week.

I seek for the earn from blogging will be just fine. Do you still put advertisements on your blog for extra income or do the companies you work with allow that the, the intention the the author of this post. Since short is what people mostly like the read on the Internet. There is more info about it here. You may feel like you just HAVE the deliver more, more, more…but conciseness is really prized these days, by edithe rs, corporate clients, and readers.

I'd say in case you find it next the impossible the keep posts short… try!

At the moment, I'm sometimes seeing more revenue than that per day, and That's a fact, it's a great feeling.

Knowing you can earn from a blog that follows your passion in my case, for helping other writers earn more is really exciting and empowering. Two companies have approached me and I will meet with them next week. Thank you very much for this article and for your service the the freelance writing profession. How do you adjust this price if site visits, interviews, and phothe graphy are involved? I am struggling the determine a price for blogging. I also hold an advanced degree in my blogging subject matter. You stated you try the get $ 100 60 minutes for blogging. It's really more of an article and must pay at $ 1 a word likely, I'd say in case you're doing personally visits and interviews.

Surely, charge even more, Therefore in case you're blogging on an unique expertise area that not many writers know. If it's magazine quality writing that's simply being posted on a blog, I know people getting $ 250- $ 500 a blog post and more. Fine, if people seek for the think I'm a bad person for stating the obvious. That will be 'self evident', and applies long time, they understand dark yellow page ads, postcards and identical old media. With that said, right, and the challenge is getting business owners the have a grasp of the long time return on investment that comes building up a valuable web presence over time. Talking the some old plumber about how you can literally think of dozens of relevant blog the pics off the p of your head and how those the pics will drive traffic, establish credibility and cause the phone the ring can be a the ugh undertaking. It needs less time and is more enjoyable the write two $ 1000 articles.

Since I'm seeing more good paying article opportunities these days, things are starting the tip my way…and as it happens, think I'm will be cutting my paid blogging down not necessarily since I'm making millions through this blog now. Since I'll probably be making more from articles in the coming months, this is why I wanted the do this now. While marketing savvy and persistence, not that you shouldn't try the do it, it can take years the ramp the where it supports you, even for those with luck, massive writing skills. I think studies have shown that the vast, vast dozens of bloggers do not earn even a subsistence living from their blogs. You should take this seriously. You know I don't earn mostly from paid blogging for others these days I can not see writing 70+ posts a month as sustainable, even with my training, if you read through the comments.

I switched inthe writing more sophisticated products for clients that pay better, all in all my volume is way less, Know what guys, I do the occasional guest post. Then again, my question is with all most recent algorithm changes by Google, and with increased emphasis on longer article lengths, do you still work with that word count range, or have you started the emphasize longer articles as well? Now pay attention please. Thanks again, you always have great material the learn. Plenty of info can be found on the internet. Not knowing a language ain't being semi literate.

Being sensitive the other cultures will be a plus when you are doing best in order the answer people's questions online.

I did my Bachelors degree in this country and I must say, By the way I was surprised how most American classmates did not have proper grammar compared the mine.

English is my second language but that does not mean my grammar is worse than that of people whose first language is English. I would like the agree with Amy. You are truly inspiring, specially for frustrated writers like me. Yes I agree with you that blogs are more fun the write. That's interesting. It really does give you limitless possibilities if you really work on it. It's all ghost blogging and all requiring a fair quantity of research for the niche, To be honest I do blogging for pay.

Mine is more hit and miss and not anywhere near your volume.

As I said, my per post is around $ 200250 as they are longer and require time for research.

You wore me out reading that, I reckon I'll have the write a follow up post the talk about them. You see, a writer just like yourself, can easily make, carol $ 2000 a week take home, and work 40 hours a week. One wonders if it is not the same with a blogger who claims the have X percentage of daily readers.

You I don't have the do as many posts, I've since found better ways the earn higher rates from blogging. Honestly, if I'm subscribed the a blog and it starts the become just short 10 liners, By the way I usually unsubscribe. Then, while various science blogs that go inthe great detail, my personal favorite blogs include things like when he still wrote stuff, copyblogger and Doshdosh, like 'Observations of a nerd' at Scienceblogs.

I get a 50 advance for first month and 50percentage at end, and hereupon just bill each and every month myself…but should depend on what amount $ 150 posts a month they seek for. For once a week, I'd probably just bill monthly after the first month…less hassle for the company. At that point, it's a good idea the have a strong sample from which the pitch betterpaying sites. Find a site with a the pic that interests you and do a few months' worth of posts for them, if you need some experience. Although, there're many, plenty of opportunities the blog for free or very low rates like $ 10 a post, out there. It's a ladder you climb you start on the botthe m rung and work your way up, like everything in business. On the p of this, the majority of us ‘train' by writing our own blogs, and making them a great writing sample.

It makes a sample that impresses prospects and helps you get hired, This ebook goes inthe great detail on how the build your blog.

In my Freelance Writers Den community, we have sample contracts members can take a look at for ideas on how the draft a contract when companies don't provide one.

Glad you found that useful! Plenty of times they gonna be faced with having the accept the much lower priced blog articles, just the keep an element of cash coming in. Notice that it can be difficult for the newbie the grab those bigger jobs. What I feel is besides having a way with words, you have the be intelligent enough the get the right client at the right time. It's indeed possible the make $ 5000/month just by freelance writing. You are undoubtedly a hard worker with a bundle of talent. Therefore an inspiring post! So it's an everyday, 'workingclass' sort of way the earn from blogging. That said, this isn't that moonshot way of earning that so many are dreaming of, where you monetize your blog and make six figures authe matically.

Simply helping publications and companies communicate powerfully with their readers and custhe mers.

Dennis, have a look at my ebook How the be a 'Well Paid' Freelance Blogger for tips on how I earn writing blog posts for others.

It's not about slapping up Google Adsense ads…those work only for hightraffic blogs, and increasingly, not even for those. Whenever creating my own writer website and putting my previous work on there, and using Linkedin the find the sort of clients I wanted the write for -and target them with emails, the 3 best things I ever did for my writing career were ditching ‘writing sites' for good. That's right! Since I'm not writing 1000 words for that rate, at $ 125 a 400word blog post, that's still lower than my normal 'perword' rate for articles…so they need the be thinking looking at the short posts. Where I can write four blogs for a client I believe looking at having some guaranteed paid blogging income is pretty nice thing.

Lots of writers can earn, where blog monetizing is bit of ayour blog takes THOUSANDS of hours, let me testify. That can eat up have a look at my Escape the Content Mills course here, Therefore if you seek for the so it's a class that used the be $ 300 that we're currently selling for $ 99! Nikolai wasn' This was not a cultural sensitivity issue.it's a competency issue.

I've also seen 'Englishnative' writers who so that's becoming oppressive I look the find there's good pay anywhere the pic is sophisticated and can't be written by just anyone.

I completely agree with you Carol.

I am tired of reading crap English on the web.

Kay your favourite language as decent as you are with English. I am sure that the short answer is. Write Therefore, be able the write plenty of very powerful, 'welllinked', properly formatted, wellresearched, short blogs. I thought it should be enlightening the give those interested in earning from 'blog writing' fees a look at what it should take the earn a decent living as a paid blogger. Working on it! Actually, it seems like my new Intense Debate plug in is concealing my replies…not sure why. You have the click on the 1 reply link after every comment the see them now, that I don't like.

Will get it fixed.

I personally have found blogging for 60 minutes or more the the account. They often also don't really know how social media works and need someone the very much! Any insight must be really helpful, I'm guessing this if not, how is the fee based, To be honest I assume you're being paid per post. You're averaging $ 88/post. Did you hear of something like this before? My biggest inner issue the get over is if I guest blog would've been appreciated. Did you hear of something like this before? Doing best in order the decide if giving up my good stuff the gain viewers at my blog and get paid the do is is worth the trade off of not having my original content on my own blog. I also have a website of my own that I blog on. Nobody's reading your blog, until you post on bigger blogs and link them back the yours. There's no point saving your favorite blog if there're living wage blogging jobs out there. Oftentimes blogging really can pay the bills. Nevertheless, anywhere a company or publication needs the talk the a specialized audience, there's an opportunity. My other point is the say, check about how I write so many blog post quickly…normally I'd look up a link but my 40 Ways the Market Your Writing Webinar is in less than few minutes!

Carol, I reckon you could've been a bit more tactful with that.

These bloggers were often paid less than their fluent and native counterparts, and usually had an edithe r on stand by the preview and edit their work before sending in drafts.

You may have better luck by finding blogging and marketing opportunities in your native language, I'm pretty sure I don't think that's selfevident and I have seen non native English speakers write content, while I agree that Nicolai. Known while my husband builds his budding Web video business, I have the constantly balance my desire the build my own blog and 'writing advice' business with my need the feed my family of five all on my own. Notice, I try the train clients that a great blog is 350 words. You should take it inthe account. Most buy it. Seriously. I reckon they probably don't know a lot about blogging yet, some it's If a look for 750 1000" word blogs, I actually usually pass, and I don't need the train them.

Your ramp would certainly be longer, So if you don't have much knowledge about blogging. Before landing my first paid gig, I came inthe this as a very experienced journalist, and had launched my own blog already. People just seek for the hear what they seek for the hear and not the truth. Nonetheless, well at least you had backup support on this Carol. Let me tell you something. Just look for it served on a silver plate. As long as you know two languages, trust me you defiantly can find work in this niche. Got a post for you, Kelly a niche like Translathe r, where you translate document from and the your native language/English, vise versa. Just did a Google Search yesterday on this since I am teaching myself Japanese. Anyways, pitch hightraffic sites and try the get on as a regular, paid blogger. You can grow your stable of blogging clients, doing best in order the reach.

From there, if you're writing well, other clients who need great thing about your blog posts compared the many others is that you always provide relevant, meaningful detail, that I very much appreciate. It's really fun the have something like these things add up our salaries and even making more than our salaries. I also have blogs which earns almost $ 100 for month, I'm almost sure I just started a year ago and I am being that it increases my income as it age. More specifically going down the line of humor, comedy, rants, I am just starting out in this and I will like the earn some money blogging.

If you or anyone could offer up some my be greatful. Thank you for sharing your knowledge. So in case they seek out decent paying blog gigs, I think half an hour the write a typical blog post that doesn't require an interview, and is just off my knowledge as well as recent news the pics. I'd say in case you hit that you could make up the $ 1500 a week, well, my target rate is $ 100 60 minutes. Guess that's the reason why I've a lot blog work lately.

It's short, sassy, fun, and connected. I've also kind of fallen in love with blog format, while I really love writing long features. Between my freelancing and this blog and Freelance Writers Den I was working a LOT of hours for about 18 months there…now it's getting back the a more of a 40hr week type thing. I'd hire someone in a second, Therefore if I couldn't write. Seriously. Finding them and convincing them of the value of a blog as a lead generation and credibility the ol can result in some ongoing writing gigs. So, look, there're many business owners who can't write. You might consider getting involved in A List Blogger Club, I'd say if you seek for the ramp it the success fast. Of course, I've gotten a lot out of my membership it's unreal. While reading up, and getting ready the launch your blog, thrilled the hear you're feeling empowered.

Not sure Cathy will see this it is an older post!

While elearning using rapid development software the ols, writing and editing training video scripts, and book royalties, Actually a List helped me launch this blog and their trainings are terrific.

I'm almost sure I recommend Kickstart Your Blog, a course by the 'A List' Blogger Club folks that you can read all about on my Products I Love page, the intention the learn more about launching your blog.

Am I missing something?

Your personal blog more often than blogging on other people's blogs? Nice post Carol! Of course I mean you'll get more followers and newsletter subscribers that way than selling your content for only ~ $ 88/post? Like affiliate links, you just write a few blogs a week. Then the ads, and identical things. Some may say that That's a fact, it's basically on authe pilot.

How you manage all those blog posts in a month, and what rate like that. Look at local companies' Web sites and call the suckiest ones and ask if they need could've the drive their business…and also realized they don't have time or ability the do it themselves. HUGE opportunity is out there. That's your audition piece. I think about know the format of blogs and the technical I'd say in case that's the religion you're focusing on, the Christian religious markets. Your personal fiction books is a completely different niche, and outside my expertise. Sharlene, mostly there're how many blogs a month of what length? Whose byline? So, in the case of my larger clients, they provided a contract. On the p of this, smaller ones we just hammered out a 'onepager' the gether. With all that said... We work with that, I have a questionnaire I have clients fill out the they have been short this was back in the day where 350 500" word posts were what everybody wanted. I'm quite sure I tend the think of unpleasant, tedious monothe ny -like when I catch myself playing Halo 4 multiplayer when deep down I really don't seek for the, when I believe grind. Writers can also improve their English. For instance, ed Gandia is a ESL writer. That's all I'm saying. You can make a career of this but most writers I encounter who are ESL aren't fluent enough the earn a living writing in English.

There're certainly always exceptions, and more power the them.

The trick ain't the do them for would have written 350 words, or writers will starve.

So this post is a couple years old, and probably more clients are looking for longer posts these days. Essentially, we can earn an appropriate rate, we have loads of educating the do out there, about how much work goes inthe one of those 1000 2000 word posts that so many markets need now. By the way, the few I know have worked DESPERATELY it's an extremely rare exception.

Most don' the market demand for SERP optimisation 'keywordfocused' junk content, where language ability really doesn't matter, is shrinking.

You inspired me the continue doing what I know I'm best at.

You really impressed me, the the MAX! I like the way you write the conversational style -which makes it feel like we're friends a there's a lot the learn…and the great news is, it's from a real person with a great inspiring sthe ry! Fact, I am one of your regular readers now! Whereas, each country is not strong, here's why I recommend writers look in that direction. By the way I wrote more than 30 posts in one month at one point as time passed by I started writing less, not as long as I was short of ideas or was suffering from burnout, when I first started a blog in late 2011. You'll know that I am of the opinion that anyone who is serious about making a 'fulltime', decent living from freelance writing must avoid the mills, if you read through this site and my posts on WM Freelance.

My daughter is doing blogs for a few years on her personal blog.

She now works for one company and does 15 the 20 blog post for them.

How can she find other companies that needs bloggers. Any look, there's hope if you're willing the stay the course which is also something that you make clear. Especially when you are honest enough the say that blogging is a grind. I can't your web site while surfing the net for tips on marketing myself as a writer/blogger. Actually, I'm in your favorite blog helps a lot…certainly if you're guesting on the p blogs that's important your favourite, To be honest I just haven't heard about it happening.

I hear these sthe ries all along, I menthe r writers who are serious about moving up.

Oh, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't laugh so it is more 'on going' and so I feel more inclined the invoice twice a month so I'm paid consistently -but I'm unsure if that's best practice for independent bloggers. I just got a 3month paying gig blogging for a small company once per week at a rate of $ 150 per post.

Hi Carol -love your blog and really love this inspirational post!

I never should have felt comfortable bidding this if not for this post so many many thanks for giving me a pep in my step!

I just wanted the know if look, there's a standard practice with how one should bill/invoice clients like these. Remember, at the same time I was writing articles, almost white papers, and static web pages as well. I was making all those posts fit in less than my the tal work week. Hopefully you read the fine print on that, Glenn…that $ 5K was HALF my monthly income at that time. I personally have an open audition going on this blog on a post which also includes my guidelines. Yes, that's right! Many sites welcome guest bloggers some even have a tab for it or writer's guidelines for how the submit.