#I REMEMBER WHY I HIRED YOU. ❱❱ ( micro. )

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

First Times (Poly Relationship w/ John & Ghost Headcanons)

I spent the morning exploring Hackney, which is rich in breweries. While wandering about, I got to thinking, what if…

John starts working at a brewery when he retires from the army?

OR!

He starts a micro brewery/pub with Simon, who retires around the same time.

🍺 The two men set to work immediately to acquire the proper licenses and a premise. Fortunately for the both of them, they’re quite handy and so know how to create a lovely, albeit very manly, space without too much interference from contractors. After all, why hire others for work you can do yourself?

🍺 Honestly, the business is a dream come true for John. Owning a micro brewery was his Plan B should things not work out with the army. However, it’s because of his former employment, he’s become a better business owner. It’s through the development of his leadership and risk-assessment skills he managed to secure the rank of captain.

🍺 For Simon, the brewery is an unexpected ambition, a new dream to follow. While he lets John do most of the marketing (because Simon can’t be arsed with social media… being social in general), he’s mostly pre-occupied with the creation of new and improvement of the already existing craft beers.

🍺 The business steadily grows as word gets about town. Soon, it’s not only the local Hackney residents who pop by, but also people from other boroughs.

🍺 Including you.

🍺 Come from Inner London, the people of the area find you somewhat of a posh puppy, a bit of a toff. It’s this view of you which makes them wonder what on Earth you’re doing in East London, this artsy and not as affluent part of the city.

🍺 Nevertheless, you’re a sight for sore eyes if you ask Simon, who’s your old neighbour back from the few years you lived in Manchester after moving there with your parents.

🍺 Though gruff and distant in the beginning, Simon gradually warmed up to you. Despite never opening up emotionally, you two did develop a strong amiable bond. Maybe because you were the only one to greet him on the street, to ask about his career after catching a glimpse of the dog tag around his neck, to welcome him back each time he was deployed.

🍺 To show sincere interest in him.

🍺 Your parents weren’t a fan of you socializing with the giant in the skull balaclava, but they never told you off for it since you two always seemed to have a good time. Moreover, they rarely saw you smile unless you were with him. So they let it slide, prioritizing your happiness over their prejudice.

🍺 It was only in the spring before you moved without telling him where to and he was deployed yet again, Simon realized he had feelings for you. Nonetheless, he put them aside or, rather, suppressed them until they numbed. He had nothing to offer, fifteen years your elder and terribly haunted.

🍺 So imagine his surprise and absolute delight when you stand in front of him, prettier than he can remember. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”

🍺 “Y/N,” it’s the only thing he can say, finally out loud after years of uttering it in silence.

🍺 “Who’s this fair lady?” John slides up next to Simon, arms crossed as he takes you in. His sea blue eyes darken when they meet yours. “How can we help, miss?”

🍺 The way he practically purrs the words sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. Yet, you conceal the effect he has on you behind a steady voice. “I saw the notice on the window, about the open position. Has it been filled in the meanwhile or can I still apply?”

🍺 “She’s a good one, John. Hardworking, trustworthy, kind. Fast learner too,” Simon says pensively.

🍺 “Got experience in the field?” John asks.

🍺 “Studied psychology, during which I mostly focused on the effect of marketing on the human psyche. Also run a food blog and Instagram”

🍺 “Thank Simon properly before you leave. I trust his judgment and seeing he knows you best, I’ll take his word for it.” He slaps his business partner on the shoulder. “Drop by tomorrow and we’ll discuss your contract. I’m looking forward to working with you…”

🍺 “Y/N.”

🍺 “Y/N...” John repeats thoughtfully. Then he hums and heads off.

🍺 Thus begins a series of firsts and connections as you settle down in Hackney.

🍺 Over the course of a few weeks, the locals come to see you as one of their own as you show them you simply aren’t some girl with rich parents, a spoiled princess, but a young woman trying to make a life for herself with her own hard-earned money via helping at the counter and striking up conversations.

🍺 John and you grow closer too. He admires and respects your eye for detail and aesthetics, though sometimes he feels a little awkward when you’re trying to direct him for the occasional TikTok. Nevertheless, it’s your creativity that keeps drawing him in, igniting the need to keep getting closer to you. What also helps is you bringing him coffee or reminding him to take breaks (both with a kiss on the cheek later down the line).

🍺 Loves to review the content you create together, especially when you’re in his lap while doing so.

🍺 On your mutual days off, John drags you all over London to visit bakeries and cafés. Never had you thought him a foodie, though it’s a pleasant discovery since there’s always something new to experience on the food scene. Moreover, he loves helping you out with your own blog, not just the one you created for the brewery.

🍺 These days, you’re teaching him photography and are taking baking classes together. Although, you might as well go on your own to the latter because he’s a terrible baker (unlike Simon, who’s self-taught and surprisingly good, like, sale-appropriate why-doesn’t-he-have-at-least-a-micro-bakery good).

🍺 Your bond with Simon mostly rekindles via being his guinea pig. He knows how brutally honest you can be in your feedback, which he thoroughly appreciates. Outside work, the two of you frequent bookshops, have picnics in the major parks in London, and visit the city’s oldest cemeteries. The latter is a bit of a morbid idea of a nice outing, but you appreciate the silence and romantic sense of decay in the air.

🍺 It isn’t long before you take up residence in the apartment the two men share, which leaves the other residents of the building wondering about your relationships to one another. Although, they can guess at the nature of it seeing the “noise” at night. As I said, lots of first including a relationship with two men older than you.

🍺 But aside from the plethora of sensual moments, there are also plenty of tender (and domestic) firsts. For example, Simon accompanies you to your first tattoo appointment. When, the next day, you’re struck by tattoo flu, he takes care of you. Of course John doesn’t force you to come to work nor Simon for that matter, who you clearly need at the moment (despite claiming otherwise). Henceforth, you’re both granted PTO until you’re back on your feet.

🍺 Speaking of the former-captain, John is your very first kiss. You and him went out for pizza (Simon preferring to stay home and read). On the way to Hackney Wick, beneath a bridge heavily decorated with graffiti and sheltering a few barges, he put his hands on your cheeks and crashed his lips into yours. He tasted of tobacco and white wine, laced with the sweetness of tomatoes and basil. That night, he made love to you.

🍺 Another first.

🍺 Simon prepared breakfast the next morning, serving food to ensure John and you wouldn’t succumb to exhaustion later in the day. Nor him, for that matter, because while he doesn’t get jealous and loves sharing you with his best friend, he sometimes wishes you wouldn’t go at it till early in the morning when the next day is an ordinary work day.

🍺 You’re there for them when either of them suffers from night terrors or combat stress. Simon is more prone to the former, whereas John is to the latter.

🍺 You accompany Simon to therapy too after he’s been diagnosed with PTSD. At first he didn’t want to go, refused it even, until he finally relented after another episode of flashbacks and coming to his senses while shaking in your arms.

🍺 Life with John and Simon isn’t always easy nor romantic.

🍺 But bloody hell, do they make it better.

#CoD #CoD x Reader #John Price #Ghost x Reader #Simon Riley #John Price x Reader #Simon Riley x Reader #Simon Ghost Riley #Captain John Price #Captain Jonathan Price #Captain John Price x Reader #Ghost CoD #CoD MW Ghost

[youbutstupid]

You just don't miss with your takes do you? Nah but fr on Reid's anger, is he a little bit emotional and snippy? Yes, but that's normal. The situations that cause that anger in him are thoroughly unfair and he should be allowed to express it and have it acknowledged without having something stupid like the micro expressions thrown at him. He's also just not that socially inept, we see that he's able to process things quite well but despite this people (including fans) love to baby him and act as if he's totally incapable of emotional intelligence

I love asks like this and I’m so sorry it took me so long to respond

This is really interesting to me because we do see that Reid has a relatively okay situational awareness in the sense that it could be a lot worse. However this situational/emotional awareness isn’t necessarily because he himself is naturally good at emotions but rather because he has researched them extensively; I can’t remember where the quote is from but he states that he has trouble understanding people and that’s why he reads so much about them, and he admits that even with this knowledge it is difficult. So he 100% is able to understand a lot of emotional situations but rather because he has researched them and extensively as opposed to experiencing them like most people

I also think it’s important to highlight that it isn’t just the fans that baby Reid but the show as a whole and I think that was the writer’s intentions all along. Something that the show drills into us repeatedly is that the BAU is a family; they’ve done this by giving each member a complicated relationship with their own immediate family so they rely on the team. They’ve also done this by adding certain lines such as Morgan referring to Hotch and Rossi as ‘mom and dad’, Reid telling JJ that Morgan hit him like a child and also their repeated lines of ‘we’re a family.’

Obviously for this family to work, everyone needs a role and there needs to be a baby of the family and they make Reid that baby by making him significantly younger than the others, choosing an actor that is lankier and skinnier, putting him in dangerous situations and giving him childish nicknames such as ‘boy wonder.’ They also never hire new actors to play new BAU team members who are older than Matthew Gray Gubler; Prentiss, Rossi, Jordan, Seaver, Blake, Callahan, Tara, Simmons and Alvez all were newcomers at some point and were all played by actors/actresses who were older than MGG, even in season 10 when MGG was around 35/36 so it would’ve been perfectly normal to have agents younger than him, they never did hire anyone else so that Reid as a character could retain his status as baby of the family

#sorry for the whole essay #I just thought the points were interesting and went off on a tangent #criminal minds #spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x reader)

Words: 3277 (chapter 15)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case. Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that? What happens when you get involved in Fisk's business and Daredevil's lies against your will?

UPDATES EVERY FRIDAY

Find my other accounts on ao3 and wattpad! <3

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1rSoldierSince2012

wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/1rsoldierSince2012

15. Karma is a...

The weekend has passed calmly. If 'calm' has suddenly changed its meaning.

You were stressing over everything, drowning in memories of Robert and you, remembering how you agreed to go on a second date with Wesley, and later found yourself meeting Murdock more than your bosses would like their best lawyer to do. 

Monday morning you came to work earlier than usually, making yourself a nice cup of tea, you were sitting in your office, a red folder with documents rested in the middle of the table that was so clean, you saw your own distorted reflection. Dressed in red turtleneck and jacket, you were waiting for the heavy knock on your doors, prepared for everything that might come, yet you weren't prepared for the sight you saw when Todd burst in your office, two minutes after the beginning of a workday.

"You bitch-" he closes the doors loudly and storms at your table.

"Morning, Todd." You say calmly, clasping your hands together on the folder. "What seems to be the problem?" You take a better look at his face and see a huge bruise under his eye. "You look well." A smirk escapes your lips, and Todd visibly clenches his fist at you.

"You're hiring criminals and sending them after me now? You fucking bitch." He paces around the office, raking his hair like a maniac.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Todd. Why don't you have a seat, eh?" You eye him suspiciously, before smiling brightly, "I believe we have things to discuss."

"Oh, yes, we fucking do, I'm gonna sue you, and your little fuck buddy, and you," he turns back at you and points, "you're gonna regret it, all of it!" 

"Gee, Todd, maybe you should try some camomile tea? I heard it helps with the nerves." You pretend to be concerned, and a sickening smile appears on Todd's face.

"I swear, you're the biggest bitch I've met in my life."

"Me? Oh, please, I know far worse." You raise your eyebrows theatrically, and he takes a step towards your table, hoping to intimidate you.

"You, you hired some justice idiot to get out of your problems? Well, it didn't fucking work, congratulate yourself and your buddy Murdock!"

"You don't shout at me in my fucking office!" You stand up from your chair, and it rolls all the way back until it hits the wall. "I don't know what you're talking about and who gave you the look of America's next sweetheart, so sit the fuck down and let's play lawyers, Salotto."

He sends you a look and furiously grabs the chair to sit down, you do the same. 

"I thought about your offer." You begin and a shadow of hope passes on his face. "Although for any other woman the thought of seeing your micro penis would sound appealing, I found something far better, let's take a look, shall we?" You open the folder and Todd, still chewing the last thought, has yet to catch up with you, when a firm's picture of him on the first page throws him off tracks.

"What is that?"

"Oh, I've sacrificed my off days and found something very interesting, Todd." You smile slightly, flipping through pages, "I'm sure all the things will be familiar to you, but don't get angry at me for repeating, where was it? Hmm. Oh, found it, fraud, bribery, giving and receiving, oh you really like that one, I can see." With every word, his face became redder and redder, yet you continued nonchalantly. "Throughout your career, you've managed to take money from 30 clients, and then bribed five officers to get out of speeding tickets, used drugs that are illegal in the state, and my personal favorite - money laundering." You close the last page of the folder and take a look at Todd.

"Where'd you get that?" He looks like he's about to snap any moment, looking at the closed folder, barely blinking.

"Two words, Todd, hard work."

"Bullshit."

"I can sue you for far more, sugar. You'll rot in jail for 20 years at least." You lean forward, closer to him, and he suddenly grabs your throat.

"Not before I fucking kill you-"

"I have a camera here." You rasp out, and the fingers slightly loosen, yet he's still holding you in place.

"Another fucking bullshit, you, I'm gonna put you in jail first." He looks like a maniac, eyes popping out, you grab his hand and hold it just as tight as he's holding your throat.

"If I don't call my associate in an hour, he's gonna leak your shit to the public, killing me would be a cheery on top." You look right him in the eyes, your free hand slowly slipping into the pocket of your jacket, where your pocket knife was secured.

He lets go of you yet pushes you back with force, and you fall back on the chair. "Your associate?" he mocks, "is that how you're calling him now?"

"Contrary to the popular belief, Murdock is not my associate, I have someone in higher power." You say hoarsely, holding your throat, "you leave me and him alone, or I swear, you're gonna be eating the shit food they serve in jail."

"Oh, I'm gonna kick you out of here, one way or another," he threatens with a bitter smile and leaves, closing the door with such force that a painting of a lake falls from the wall.

You sit back in the chair, closing your eyes for a moment. The hands were no longer squeezing your throat, yet the twitching was still present.

"Good morning to you, too." Matt smiles to no one in particular, simply because he felt satisfied with what he did on Friday and last night, when he stopped three muggers.

***

"Matt, I think Melissa's guilty. I can't find anyone else who might have hated the man, he was everyone's favorite in the whole Hell's Kitchen." Foggy greets Matt with a look of desperation and dark circles under his eyes, although Matt was lucky he couldn't see them.

"I wish I had the mood you have now." Karen retorts, looking up from the pile of papers.

"What, did something happen?" Matt furrows his eyes immediately.

"Yeah, we have no evidence against Melissa." Foggy sighs dramatically.

"I'm sure there's something we can find, we always do." Matt tries to lift everyone's spirits for a moment, although he appeared to not be very good at it - Foggy was the best man for the job.

"She's the wife of the richest guy, you think she doesn't know how to throw everyone off her tracks?" Foggy argues further.

"Wait, you guys remember what Annie said?" Karen stands up suddenly. "Melissa's not letting her into the house anymore, but she said that she saw a very suspicious looking document in her office."

"Well, we're not going to see that document, so it's no help." Foggy starts loosing all the hope he had for this case, Matt stops in the middle of the office to think. Maybe there could be a way to take a look at that document... In his mind, Matt curses the loss of sight once again. "Baking ideas?"

"Um, no, not really." Matt sighs, and rubs his forehead. "Without a warrant, we can't do anything legally."

"And you can't get a warrant because?" Karen looks at the two men in front of her.

"We have no reliable source of information to support our request." 

"Beside, it could take a while, and court's tomorrow." Matt finally sits down next to Foggy and takes off his glasses. 

"Why are they even hurrying it so much? He died on Friday, what about the autopsy or..." Karen also sits down, stealing a look at Matt. He could feel her heartbeat picking up within seconds. 

"I'm sure Benowitz is involved, and he pushed the session to this week, so we wouldn't have enough time to find any evidence." Matt recalls how Benowitz swore to take him down if he ever got a chance, and this was a perfect opportunity.

"How are you so sure?" Karen asks, flipping through the pages of Annie's statement.

"Everyone knows how sold they are in HC&B, the decent lawyers -  I could count them on one hand's fingers." Foggy leans back on his chair.

Matt refrains from the comment, although he was burning to mention you yet again. "The quicker they deal with it, the fewer speculations go around the city. It's convenient to close the case as soon as possible."

"So there's no way to get any evidence?" Karen tries again, grasping on the last straw of hope.

"Unless you want to spend your life in jail." Foggy sighs and takes a look around the office - a couple of unopened fruit baskets were beginning to rot on the cabinet. They should really liven the place up. And start taking money.

"So we go unprepared, huh?" Karen puts her head on her hands, looking down.

"We go. You're staying here. Someone has to take care of the office." Foggy says, earning a shocked look from Karen.

"He's right. Besides, potential clients might swing by." Matt sides with Foggy, although he didn't want to spend much time with Karen for other reasons - he was afraid that she'll fall in love with him, and truth to be told, Matt didn't feel like breaking her heart.

"That's good, but why?" Karen emerges from the office, and takes in Foggy's appearance.

***

"Court's been pushed to Wednesday." Foggy barges in the office, carrying a bag of donuts, hair messy from the wind, three coffee pressed close to his chest.

"Annie managed to amaze the judge - fake illness, high temperature, caught a very nasty virus." Foggy wiggles his eyebrows. "Where's Matt?"

"Oh, he left just minutes ago, didn't you two pass each other on the street?"

"No..." Foggy says, slightly hesitating.

"Hm. I'll text him the news. He's got that thing that voices out messages, right? Because he left in quite a hurry, said he had an important meeting, I don't want to disturb with a call-" Karen starts rambling and waving her hands in the air.

"It's good, text him. I'll kick his ass for abandoning us tomorrow. Now, come on, we have to find some dirt on Melissa." Foggy lifts his cup in the air in a winning manner.

*** 

"You know, if you were helping, it would be actually quicker!" You whisper to Matt, who closes the door.

"If I was able, I would, but now you're on your own, try to look for a signed document." He whispers back, confidently walking toward the window. The early autumn darkness has already flooded the calm street of West 56th. After spending half an hour with you in the car on the lookout, Matt has decided that this was the calmest street in Hell's Kitchen. Additional points go to it because he never had to come here as Daredevil.

"Jesus, how many copies of the same document does one need?" You sign, trying to look for the paper as quickly as possible without making an obvious mess in the sickeningly orderly office.

"Hurry." He says, turning his head as if listening like a dog. 

"I'm trying." You exhale through your nose, frustrated as hell, already regretting on fulfilling this kind of favor.

"C'mon, she's gonna be here soon."

"My idea was to come here earlier, genius," you finally find what you need, but at the same time you hear a car pulling in the driveway.

"Hurry!"

"I got it, I got! Just need to take a picture." You say and pull out your phone. The car door closes loudly, and you snap a picture, praying to all the gods that she didn't see the flash. "Fuck, fuck." you whisper under your breath and put the paper back in its place, fixing the whole stack. "Matt, we have to hide, there's no way out now." You desperately look around and notice a wardrobe. In the office. Weird, but this should do.

"Get inside, idiot." You pull him in the small space and close the door, trying to control your erratic breathing.

He's quick to come next to you, grabbing your wrist. He didn't need to check your pulse like that, he already heard your heart pounding loudly, but feeling the twitching under your skin was on another level.

"Go, go" He urges you to get inside the wardrobe and already begins closing the door when you pull his sleeve towards you.

"You know, I think there's space only for one." He whispers, biting his smile away, although in darkness like this you don't see anything anyway.

"Yes, I'm aware of that, thank you, Murdock." You whisper, putting your phone into the pocket of your jeans, your hand brushes his, and you close your eyes for a moment. There is no way you can do anything in here without touching him, but the worst part was his leg between yours, squished and uncomfortably close to your core. His face was merely inches away from yours, chests were almost touching.

Your heart is beating like crazy, as is his, the adrenaline pumping through your veins clears the head, but this closeness makes you feel dizzy, and you mentally curse yourself for getting into this situation. You're a respectable lawyer, as is Matt, and you shouldn't be doing any of this shit, not when your career is hanging on a thread, not when Benowitz is collecting evidence against Matt in court, not when he's about to ruin Nelson and Murdock forever.

He takes in your perfume, although mixed with anxiety, you still smell incredible.

Matt wants to slap himself for these thoughts, but he just can't help himself, there's a pull to you, and he can't deny it any more, not when you're pulling your legs together and squeezing his.

Matt swallows rather loudly, you close your eyes and take a breath, trying to calm yourself. The door of the room opens and your breath hitches. Your eyes widen, and you stop breathing for a moment. Melissa walks around the room, her heels ring loudly in the space. Matt tries to focus on the intruder (oh the irony, when he is one), but your heart is beating too loudly for him to block it out.

He puts his hand on your chest, and you freeze. "Calm down" he whispers as silent as possible, hoping that his action will calm you. You bite the inside of your cheek, and put your head on his shoulder, desperate to slow down your breathing.

Melissa gets closer to the wardrobe, and Matt is already creating a plan of attack - if anything, he'll push you further inside and do what he swore to never do - hit a woman. When Melissa's distracted, hurt and surprised, he'll grab you and just run out through the door as fast as possible. Hopefully, he won't have to do any of it, but possibilities were still high.

If she were to recognize him, his career would be doomed. Attacking his opponent's client would send him straight to jail, if not get him killed on the spot. Surely someone high in power like Melissa had a gun somewhere. Perhaps in this very wardrobe...

You lift your head up and look at Matt, or his darkened form in front of you. It was smart enough for him to ditch his glasses in your car, because in action, they might break. And how many people you knew who wore red tinted glasses? One.

The phone rings loudly in Melissa's purse, and she hurries to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Yes, I've been trying to call you like a hundred times, where the hell have you been?"

"Still trying to corrupt that little girl?" She blows out some air and leans on the table, dropping the box of paper clips.

"Nah, it's like something is protecting her. Or someone. I saw her a couple of times with that blind guy."

"Yeah, Murdock. Fucking church boy."

"Oh, don't pretend you didn't search everything about him, Benowitz, he's our enemy. But we both know it's smart to go after our real enemy."

"Of course I have it. But we won't need it. Just find some more evidence against her, in case of sabogate, and we're good. Her lawyer won't be able to do shit if we have something good."

You fail to hear what Benowitz says, but Matt hears everything perfectly. He clenches his fist, removing his heavy and hot palm from your chest.

"C'mon, it's our chance."

"Good, see you tomorrow, Steven."

She puts her phone on the table rather loudly and leaves the room. You hear her steps descending, and you quickly tap Matt.

"No, not yet. She's pouring herself brandy, she's returning."

"But h-" you don't get to finish as Matt puts his hand on your mouth.

Is he mad? Take off your shirt? Now? For what? So that Melissa could look at your bra when she opens the wardrobe? This is insane. Thoughts race in your head, but you do as you're told. There's already not enough space for two people in here, but taking off your shirt in place like this seems like mission impossible. You begin, slowly pulling your hand out of the sleeve, and pushing the shirt a little upwards. Matt pulls his hand away from your mouth and puts it on your bare side, gently holding you in place and helping with the shirt. You can't help but shiver at everything - the cool air, the situation you're in, and Matt's gentle touch.

Quick steps ring in the office again, and you struggle to breathe quietly, as Matt's hand blocks your mouth. He leans closer to your ear and whispers as silently as possible, "take off your shirt".

You murmur something against his palm, but stop as Melissa starts pacing around the office again.

Finally, you have to take it off your head and Matt grabs the shirt, putting it on your head - your mouth and chin, leaving your eyes.

Melissa steps closer, you can hear her silently whistling under her breath -

And in one moment, many things happen - you get pushed further into the closet, Melissa lets out a scream that is stopped in the middle by Matt knocking her out. Matt grabs your arm and yanks you towards him, both scrambling to run away from the house. In the heat of the moment you found yourself pulling him, because after all, you were the one with actual sight. In the street, cold air hits your almost bare half, but there's no time to think, as you run into a dark alley.

He stops and you, holding your side and pant like crazy, "Running was not what I signed up for when I went to law school! " You put on your shirt, looking around if no one saw you running around the city in a bra.

"I see someone's badly out of shape." Matt smirks, but soon his smile fades.

"Did you just hit Melissa?" You laugh, somehow finding this situation hilariously dangerous.

"Yes, but not hard, I don't think I broke anything, come, we gotta hurry before she calls the cops." He pulls your hand again, leading the way to his apartment.

"Wait," You stop and check your pockets, letting out a sigh of relief when you feel your phone there. "We drove here, but I parked on the other side of her house, it would be very suspicious for us to show up near it now."

"You're right, you go, stay in the shadows as much as possible, and drive home, send the picture to Foggy, and please, be careful." He spins on his heel to leave, but you quickly grab his sleeve.

"No, what do you think you're doing? You're coming with me." You pull his jacket slightly.

"No, y/n."

"Murdock, you know that I'm already pissed, so don't cross the line." You step further and pull him towards you again, this time he complies, helplessly following you to the car.

#matt murdock #matthew murdock #matt murdock x reader #matts superhearing complicates things for you #foggy nelson #karen page #marvel daredevil #netflix daredevil #daredevil #marvel #daredevil fanfiction #human disaster matt murdock #lawyers #bound by law

[eorzeanflowers]

Overgrown for micro stories!

(The dice chooseth... 7. So it is Lhei who gets this story!)

"Archon Veha, is this the location you wished to set up camp in?" the highlander they had hired turned to the studious Miqo'te with an incredulous look on his face.

"Why yes Giselberdus Keene. This should do fine." Archon Lhei took one long look at the overgrown mess of an old ruin they had just found deep in the fenlands of southern Mor Dhona. Shimmering crystals stuck out of the building at odd angles and the plant life had warped itself in strange shapes near them. "Keep the camp away from the ruin itself. You and your sister should be safe as long as you do not get close to a crystal, without the proper equipment of course." The ever curious Archon made their way closer to the ruin while the highlander siblings exchanged surprised looks, the sister just shrugging and getting to work around the camp.

"Em, this place is dangerous." Giselberdus muttered while he pitched the tent. "Of course it is Berd. That's why that Archon is paying us the gil. We delved a ruin with that crazed Elezan last month, remember?" Emayn Keene retorted as she gathered the necessary stones and sticks to get a cook fire going.

"The last place didn't have as much greenery though!" Berd gestured to the ruin. "Or the even more dangerous crystals if the Archon is to believed."

"Well... You've got me there." Em just shrugged, looking at the ruin and seeing the Archon use their staff to try and dislodge a crystal hanging in the pale vines. "I do wish they wouldn't try agitating the plantlife. I understand they have a theory and all... But somethings aren't meant to be delved."

There was a small flash of light and both Keenes leapt to their feet, weapons drawn. The, now unsteady, Archon Veha came walking back a crystal wrapped in their staff. "I got what I need for now." Their eyes were nothing but irises at the present moment, barely any pupil visible. Both of the Keenes visibly relaxed as the Archon continued her way over to the partially unpacked equipment, but as the time passed they both shared uneasy glances with the overgrown ruin they were next to. They both hoped that some of those vines weren't a morbol in disguise.

#the dahlia #micro story #overgrown #its sorta Lhei's story #but I got to introduce their companions! #the keene siblings #I should figure out what they look like one day

[skymagician]

Close Up Magician | Magic for Unforgettable Moments - Sky Magician

Introduction:

Welcome to the world of close-up magic, where wonder and astonishment unfold right before your eyes! I'm Sky Magician, and I'm here to take you on a journey through the mesmerizing art of close-up magic. As a seasoned professional in the world of magic, I understand the power of intimate performances that create unforgettable moments. Join me as we explore the magic of close-up magic and how Sky Magician can bring wonder and excitement to your event with my captivating performances and mind-bending illusions.

The Magic of Close-Up Magic:

Close-up magic, also known as table magic or micro-magic, is a form of magic that is performed right in front of the audience, often using everyday objects such as cards, coins, and small props. Unlike stage magic, which relies on grand illusions and theatricality, close-up magic is intimate and interactive, creating a sense of wonder and amazement that is unparalleled. With close-up magic, the magic happens right before your eyes, making it a truly unforgettable experience for you and your guests.

Creating Intimate Moments:

One of the most magical aspects of close-up magic is its ability to create intimate moments between the magician and the audience. Whether I'm performing sleight of hand tricks at a table or mingling with guests at a cocktail party, close-up magic allows me to connect with my audience on a personal level, creating moments of astonishment and delight that will be remembered long after the event is over. With Sky Magician, you can expect an immersive and interactive experience that will leave you and your guests spellbound.

Versatile Entertainment:

Close-up magic is incredibly versatile and can be tailored to suit a wide range of events and occasions. Whether you're hosting a corporate event, a wedding reception, or a private party, close-up magic is the perfect form of entertainment to add excitement and intrigue to your event. With Sky Magician, you can rest assured that the entertainment will be suitable for guests of all ages and backgrounds, creating a truly memorable experience for everyone involved. Magician Near me!!

The Sky Magician Experience:

When you book Sky Magician for your event, you're not just getting a magician – you're getting an experience. With years of experience and a passion for magic, I bring a level of professionalism and artistry to every performance that sets me apart from the rest. From the precision of my sleight of hand to the charisma of my personality, every aspect of my performance is carefully crafted to ensure that your event is a resounding success. With Sky Magician, you can expect nothing less than magic at its finest.

Conclusion:

Thank you for considering Sky Magician for your upcoming event. With a passion for close-up magician and a commitment to excellence, I am dedicated to providing entertainment that will delight and amaze you and your guests. Whether you're hosting a corporate event, a wedding reception, or a private party, hiring a close-up magician is the perfect way to add excitement and wonder to your event. So why wait? Contact Sky Magician today and let's create some unforgettable moments together!

[icinch]

What to Send Big Ticket Prospects in the Mail to Increase Your Sales (Dramatically)

New Post has been published on https://www.cinchhomebiz.com/what-to-send-big-ticket-prospects-in-the-mail-to-increase-your-sales-dramatically/

What to Send Big Ticket Prospects in the Mail to Increase Your Sales (Dramatically)

If you’re selling big ticket items, you’re leaving a tremendous amount of money on the table if you’re not sending your prospects something in the mail. Think about it – anyone and everyone can send an email, but how many sellers reach out via the postal mail to give their prospects something tangible they can hold in their hands?

Better still, “snail” mail can’t be deleted at the click of a button. And if you make it enticing enough, physical mail gets read and acted upon.

So what should you send to your prospects? According to Dave Dee, you should send a packet of info that includes the following:

– A checklist. For example, if you’re selling a service then you would send a checklist entitled: 7 things you should look for when hiring a _____. This way YOU set the buying criteria and you tell the prospect what to look for.

Now here’s the trick – at least ONE of those 7 things must be something that ONLY YOU do. Maybe you provide a service no one else provides, or you do it in a way like no other. Or perhaps your guarantee is unparalleled. Or you offer a free bonus service that everyone else charges for. Or perhaps you have qualifications or proven results that no one else has.

Whatever it is, it has to be something that only you have, so that when they go to compare you to others, no one else measures up to you.

– Include a newsletter of your own. It should be 2 pages long, customer oriented and include:

Bullet point tips – these could come from your website or your book – no need to write new ones

1 article which could again come from your website or your book

1 cartoon (get someone on Fiverr to create this)

1 big mistake that people make and how you correct it

Your picture

– A micro sales letter that sells them on the next step in the sales process, whatever that might be. If it’s making a small order, making a phone call, visiting your website – whatever it might be, you want to move them along in the sales process.

If they don’t respond to this package, Dave Dee follows up with these 3 sequential mailings.

First, he sends a gourmet cookie and a letter in a box. He uses a box so the cookie doesn’t get crushed. His letter begins, “As you can see, I’ve included a cookie. Why have I done this? I wanted to catch your attention. As you can see this is a gourmet cookie. It’s different, just like not all (Your profession, service or product) are created equal…” And then he reiterates his offer. This engages all of their senses and who doesn’t love cookies? Is anyone going to throw this in the trash without at least reading it? Highly unlikely. Are they going to remember it (and you) in the days to come? You bet.

Next he sends a fortune telling fish. It’s simply a little plastic fish that moves in your prospect’s hand. You can find these on novelty sites. Depending on the movement of the fish, it tells you something. The chart that goes with it says if it moves up, it means the prospect is going to call you. If it moves to the left, he’s going to hire you today. If it moves right, he’s going to buy your product, and so forth. No matter how fish moves, it’s a similar call to action

The third mailing is an Aspirin with another letter. This letter starts off with, “Do you still have this problem? We can make your headache go away…”

And if Dave still doesn’t get the response or sale he’s looking for, he then follows up with a year of monthly newsletters.

It sounds like a lot to put together, but once you have the system in place you never have to deal with it again. The newsletter can be timeless, so you can continue to run the same 12 issues. And the sales letters stay the same for as long as you’re selling the same product or service.

Your follow up system doesn’t need to be this elaborate, but one good point to take away is this – acting differently from everyone else and being more creative will get you noticed and it will get you business.

[lil-crouton2]

Okay, a calmer, cooled, more put together rant record.

Can I just start with how on earth could a hostile workplace to this degree exist..

I started in the service department around Easter. I remember this because I was given these dollar packs of puncha-balloons.

The male employee (D) was the manager and the female employee (H) was assistant manager.

Tbh they are still the same job titles today...

I work in an office with two female receptionist (P) and (K). When I first started I was supposed to take messages, or page the advisor to speak with the client calling. I also responded to voicemails, and ran said paper "tickets" to the advisor to give call backs. While I don't whole heartly agree with process, fine it's the rules so compliance it is.

The longer I've been back here the worse (H) would become.. at first it was just bad looks. You know like stank face, when you don't like someone so you stare them down a lot to "intimidate". For a while she tried like hell to brainwash me to be the company snitch and rat out every little misdeed. I told her no thanks, that's not my job, and I'm not here for drama. After all that is why I transfered from the front desk, my coworker up there was certified crazy.

When she (H) realized I'm no help in that field she began ostracizing me. Then she directed her attention to (K).

Side note (K) used to be friends with (H) , like 20 years of friendship. (H) had (k) hired to help the reception office. She was hired right before I transferred. Another side note (K) end up helping a married in family member get a job here to (L).

Back to where I was though. (K) and I began talking and getting to know each other since we share an office. She is nice, and live in Jersey for some time because when she gets upset, she has a hard jersey accent. But anyway, (H) didn't like that (k) and I were nice- friendly to one another. (Maybe jealousy, since that was her friend first)

So instead of getting over their jealousy, they decided to micro manage agressively. This started with changing the rules to something new and different everyday, while this is fine, she wouldn't communicate that things had changed. So because these rules were not communicated to the reception office, obviously they were broken in (H)'s eyes . So she would take upon herself to burst through our office door, *during business hours* *while we are working* *answering phones* and she would begin yelling at us like we are dogs that pissed on the floor. After these "meetings" as she dubbed them, she would leave and continue on as nothing happened. After so many times of this cycle happening she upped the Annie. Now she was screaming and cursing.. she did this so loud in fact, a customer I was on the phone with and assisting heard her antics and was embarrassed and stated "I'm so sorry, I see I called at a bad time.. I , uh, I'll just drive up there and ask a service advisor because I can hear your office is ,uh, in the middle of something..." I feel so mortified I apologized to her and stated "I severely apologize for the outbursts you hear it is the service manager, I'm sorry you can hear her" and disconnected the call.

Around this time (P), who also sits here with (K) and I, had left for a small vacay- break thing. Took a few days off type deal. During this another situation arrived involving a customer being told by an advisor that we do not work on a certain brand of vehicle. This customer called back demanding a manager so they were given to (H). Now you would think as a manager you would investigate who the client talked to since it could not be provided. Nope. No. Not even close... Instead (H) decided to snatch the door so hard I believed the office was in danger. *Still answering phones btw* She begins not yelling but screaming at us, stating that someone is getting fired for telling a customer no. " WHAT WOULD POSSES US TO TELL SOMEONE IF WE WORK ON A BRAND OR NOT. YOU ALL ARE RECEPTIONIST, YOU ARENT ADVISOR MECHANICS OR THE LIKE. SO ONE OF YOU FESS UP NOW WHO SPOKE TO *REDACTED* AND TOLD HER WE DONT WORK ON THOSE. BECAUSE YOU ARE DONE!!!" Obviously none of us spoke to her because as previously mentioned.. we take messages in carbon books that duplicate the message as we write them. We checked them all, no entry for ms. *Redacted* not happy that we told the truth she decided to scream again, this time stating "WELL SINCE YOU ARE ALL LYING AND COVERING FOR ONE ANOTHER ILL WAIT TILL YOU ARE ALL PRESENT, ILL HAVE THE CLIENT COME IN, AND ILL DO A VOCAL LINE UP SO SHE CAN PICK YOUR VOICE OUT AND I CAN FIRE YOU AND WRITE THE REST UP FOR COVERING. KEEP IT UP AND ILL REPLACE ALL OF YOU!!

Obviously upset/distraught by the prospect of being fired for something we didn't do, I confided in a service advisor (M). What I didn't know is that (M) was the person that spoke to *redacted* and said we don't work on the brand of vehicle she had, as she was told by (H) . (M) confronted (H) and told her what really happened and (H) wouldn't even apologize. Hell she even acted like it never happened. Right back to "normal".

Not long after this she decided we are to where uniforms. Again I have no quarrel with these things, as long as it's communicated to me so I can follow. Here where the quarrel is. (H) does not and will not answer you if it's afterhours/weekends (when serviced is closed). (H) decided it was appropriate to start an unconsensual group chat, giving out our personal phone numbers to everyone in the group, past 7 at night once we are all long off the clock and long been home. She did this to let us know there is a new uniform policy in place and if we don't have clothes to comply we have the weekend to buy them. If we do not do this we will be written up and or fired for insubordination. So naturally panicked, we all rushed to get this dress code in order.

*dress code in question * "employees must wear closed toe shoes, black-khaki-gray pants, and until polos are ordered, solid color "nice" dress shirts are permitted."

Most of us had at least part of this requirement, but some of us still have to buy stuff to cover a week's worth of this dress code. (Not doing laundry ever night sorry)

That next Monday rolled around and for the most part we all were in compliance. No harm, no foul, all good! Accept there was foul... She meant the dress code for just my office (K,P, and I) nobody else in the entire department was told this same "code". I spoke with (H) and explained all my dress shirt were not just a single solid color.. is there anyway I can wear one of my hundreds patterned dress shirts instead of wasting money on a shirt I'll temporarily wear till the uniform polos came in. (H) caved and said this was fine. A few days later I had to go up to the front building (where the gm, and front desk are located) while up there the front desk was talking to me about how great the new shirts were, I told her how we don't have any, in fact nobody even collected orders like colors and sizes from us. Hearing this she called the gm over and told him about it and he had me get my offices colors and sizes to return to the front desk. (H) found out and tried to confront me in a room with other people trying to humiliate/ intimidate me. I told her I wasn't sure what was happening, then later texted her to say what happened above and that I didn't say it earlier when asked in person because I don't take to be humiliated or intimidated in front of other people. I am not the kind of person that accepts being talk down to like an animal. Per usual, (H) sent "K" and spoke no more.

After that it seemed to cool down and die off a little. I thought maybe (H) will finally be chill. We got 2 uniform shirts and went about our days.

Around june-july I decided to apply to college for EMT class. I was accepted and won a scholarship! I got my acceptance packet which contained dates-times-and other information on requirements and class. Not only did I save it to multiple emails and devices. But I sent it to (H) and human resources for the days off to go to the mandatory orientation for the school and got it approved by the HR coordinator.

A few days before my orientation, I received a text from (H) she decided that I could give up my *accepted* day off since (K) was booked for a half day due to doctor's appointment. When I responded and told her that's not an option my all day orientation was mandatory and my scholarship is riding on this, she told me that (K) and I need to fight it out and decide who's stuff is more important.

Instead of continuing text I was furious and marched straight up to the GM's office and keyed him in on what was happening. I showed him the text she sent as well. What I didn't know till then was as I marched up there, she saw me, panicked, and texted the gm changing the whole story, stating that she didn't realize two people were off and needing to utilize one the the front desk employees to cover.

Irritated, I began telling him of all the above listed issues, and he cut me off saying I need to understand (H) is going through her own things and I need to give her slack. "She's trying" This statement only proved to me complaints go nowhere but the trash so instead I've been keeping a notebook at home and now I'm transferring it to digital file here.

Orientation came and went, (and I went to it by the way) and things died down once again, I sent (H) another email remindering her, of the schedules and now needed screenings and requirements. She never acknowledged the email, so I asked in person if she got them, she looked me up and down, rolled her eyes and said yes then turned her chair away so I would leave.

Before I did though, I stopped and reminded her that some schedule will need to be in the works since my shift is currently 8-5 and my class is currently 5-9. She spun her chair , pissed, and told me I need to figure it out, and while I was at it figure which is more important, my job or my college. *Stupid comment really but whatever*

When I didn't back down she told me she will just have to hire someone to make up the two 30 min leaves for each week, since I wont work them. I told her good luck, turned and left.

August arrived , requirements are done (not easily mind you I got flack from (H) on it to.

I think it's part of the reason she demands Dr notes no matter what. And again it was only for my office. Nobody else in service had to follow that rule. Keep in mind we had advisors that would leave for their 30 minutes to an hour lunch break and not come back for multiple hours at a time.

But whatever... This brings us to near current time. The week before last Thursday I think, (K) had been going through a lot of personal stuff, stuff I ain't getting into. (K) also has multiple autoimmune diseases. They can be triggered into worse episode with stress, so she was vomiting and passing blood anally. An employee (B) overheard her vomiting in the bathroom and decided to react by rushing to get Lysol spray and Lysol wipes, and begin wiping everything (K) touched, claiming "well can't be to careful got family with cancer" then ran off to (H)'s office. (K) then went to (H)'s office to let her know that she was having a medical episode and needed to go home to eliminate any further stress which would end up leading to hospitalization. Instead of being a kind considerate or even thoughtful individual (H) decided to take it upon herself to not just spray (K) but instead soak and suffocate her with Lysol spray. Not only is this an arrestable offense and a felony charge . The object she used, being the Lysol spray is an allergic trigger to (P) and would cause her to have such an allergic reaction that she would die if not be hospitalized for at least a month. This humiliated (k) and thus (K) went home without any further instruction she had ingested so much Lysol in fact that she can no longer talk for 3 Days time because it had burned her vocal cords and throat. Due to this I had to cover those shifts and didn't get to leave on normal scheduling. I had to leave it at 5:30 instead when service closed. Last week (K) had custody court as expected in these matters it got emotional and hard to deal with, (H) told her well it's video court, just do it on campus in your car. She did this and court went bad and (k) was super upset and she was asked to go home by main manager (D). That Thursday and Friday the owners brother was sent to service to manage and reshape protocols and policies due to overall bad reputation. Friday, I walked in there in front of (D), (H), & (T)- owners brother and reminded (H) my official schooling begins Monday August 22 at 5pm. She faked being friendly and said that's wonderful and thanks for reminding her. I say fake because the second I stepped in this Monday (yesterday) she blew my cell phone up claiming I had never told her my class schedule or that I ever told her my times and dates that I need to leave early and what not.

Thank you over to today and before I even left my driveway this morning she started blowing my phone up saying she didn't get all of my class schedules and I need to figure out why and that and that I need to figure it out and get it over to her cuz she only has 2 months so when I answered her stating okay let me see where the mistake was she sent back she only had 2 months which she's already stated so instead of answering her wait until I got to work resent it and then ask her in person if she got them as of 5:00 p.m. today she has now told me I am a part-time employee losing my benefits and she's going to hire someone to cover the hours that I can't wish by the way is an hour's it's 30 minutes at most I have to be somewhere at 5:00 I need to leave by at least 4:15 4:30. The more and more that happens I will come back to this post and I will add it and we'll just keep going

Update 8.23.22 @ 6:35pm

Tried to talk to the general manager, apparently I am the bad guy.

[bitchassbucky]

.exe

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/s: stalkers, bucky being a creepo, reader being a creepo. dark!IT!bucky x dark!reader :-) female & male masturbation, voyeurism (i think), cyber crimes being committed.

A/N: this is my birthday gift to @babyboibucky <3 to my boo, I love you and you have a special place in my heart. this is gonna be a multi-part thing, it's too long to be considered as a one-shot, oops.

please enjoy! :D

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist

CTRL moodboard

4:49 PM

Just 11 more minutes until he can pack his bags up for the weekend.

One new ticket - URGENT

Goddamn it.

Bucky pulled his earphones out in annoyance, just another office idiot who doesn’t know how to print A4 sheets. If the office were to be held hostage and printing out was the only thing that can save them, half of the floor would be dead.

The new name caught his eye, Y/N Y/L. A new hire, it seems like.

Subject: One new ticket - URGENT

Hi, this is Y/N, employee number 0008675309. I’m new here and was told to send a ticket for the equipment request.

Thank you and have a great weekend!

Oh, Bucky’s gonna have a great weekend indeed. Out of pure curiosity, he’s already pulled up your employee file. A cute smile to a cute name. His annoyance dispersing already, just by thinking of ways how he can spend time with you.

Hey, Y/N! Bucky types into the text field, Welcome to the company. I’m Bucky and I got assigned to help you get settled. Do you prefer having a desktop or a laptop? I’ve attached a form in this thread, send it to me once you’re done.

Have an awesome weekend too!

As much as he hates sending out chirpy emails, he can’t help but to smile when you immediately send a reply back.

Thanks, Bucky! So sorry for sending in the request super late. Got caught up with the onboarding. Is it okay if I use my laptop until we can get a unit to my place? PC or laptop is fine with me.

Best,

Y/N

Bucky fights off another smile, rubbing his hand over his stubbled cheek as he carefully types out a reply. Unlike other days, he doesn’t mind staying beyond 5 PM today. It’s not like he has other plans for his Friday night.

No worries, Y/N. He’s already loving your name. Happy to help!

Do you have your laptop with you? I can set it up before you go home for the weekend. I can probably send in the ticket to the guys so you can have your work equipment next week.

His deft fingers are dancing over his mechanical keyboard, clacking away while the clock ticks closer to the weekend.

A ping, another reply from you. You’re new, you’re still excited to make friends in the office. If you only knew how stupid they are, though.

Yeah! I have it on me right now. I actually work on the same floor, I can drop it off there right now.

Bucky glances around his office, looking for any reflective surface he can check himself on. He runs his hand through his hair, taming any stubborn locks that fell out of his low bun. His shirt hangs just right against his huge frame, his pants hugging his figure, accentuating his silhouette even more.

Just as the clock ticks 5:00, a soft knock raps against his door, “come in!”

You are cuter, prettier in person. Your perfume hits his nose and he’s floored—metaphorically.

“Mr. Barnes,” you say, your demeanor somewhat meek and shy. Well, of course, you are. Your frame is nothing against the hunk of the man who just stood up to greet you.

“Bucky.” He prompts, smiling. You reciprocated the smile, but you really weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe a scrawny little dude mousing away on a keyboard?

“Bucky, thank you so much for doing this. I know you’d rather get off of work since it’s Friday and all.”

He hums, taking your laptop in his hands. You notice the rings adorning his fingers—complementing his tanned skin tone and—it’s not appropriate to stare at a stranger’s hand.

Heat creeps up your face as he turns to look at the stickers stuck to your laptop, “you know, I like this band.” Bucky says, pointing to an old sticker, he carefully sets down your laptop on his workstation.

“They’re great,” you muse, taking a seat on a plastic chair by the door.

You take a gander around his small office. There was nothing out of the ordinary but the big black server blinking at the back, so why do you feel trapped?

“Sorry about the temp, we have to keep the room cold for the server in the back,” Bucky explains, noticing how your arms are crossed over your chest. The skirt you’re wearing isn’t doing you any better too.

You stammer out an it’s okay with a small smile.

Bucky worked on your computer quietly, using a USB stick to load all the applications you need to set up a temporary work account on your laptop. After a few minutes, he beckoned you to come here. You scoot over to his desk, rolling the chair forward and beside him. Not too close though.

“So, this note has all your generated passwords. Type those into the app when you first log in, then you can change it if you want to.” Bucky explains, the cursor idles on the screen. He tries not to get too close to you, to give you personal space. It’s a professional workplace after all.

“This app,” he drags a window, pulling up an application, “tracks your hours and your keystrokes. It’s company-mandated because managers want to micro-manage their people, I guess.” Bucky shrugs, his disdain showing through his voice. His tone shifting lower than what you’d expected.

“Sorry, I just hate their new protocol,” his face and voice softening as he looks at you, “it’s a total privacy breach if you ask me.”

You’d normally disagree but something tells you that maybe he’s got a point. Your breath hitched in your throat as he leans closer as if to whisper something, “this note right here? It’s a nifty thing, a little script so your computer doesn’t go to sleep when you’re away. It enables and disables your numlock pad so it counts as a keystroke.”

A smirk finds its place on your face, “well, that’s…something, isn’t it?”

Never in your life would you find yourself flirting with a co-worker but there’s something about Bucky that made you excited. Interested. Intrigued.

Bucky nods, rolling his chair away to fetch a pad of sticky notes. “Another thing from your friendly neighborhood IT guy,” he peels off a leaf and sticks it on your laptop’s built-in camera, “keep your cam covered.”

You give him a chuckle and a playful salute, “yes, sir.”

Bucky’s a modern man. He sees a pretty girl and he gets giddy. He talks to a pretty girl and he gets flustered. But you—you make him feel more than giddy and flustered. There was something familiar about you, and your eyes. Has he seen you before? Met you, even? No, that’s impossible—if he had met you before, he’d surely remember you.

It was 5:34 PM when he gave you your laptop back and sent in an urgent request for your equipment. While taking down the elevator to the lobby, Bucky gave you a few tips on how to ‘survive’ working in the office. According to him, as far as you go in on time and kept your head above the rumors, you’d do fine.

He asked about your first week and he told you about this joint near the building that serves the best burgers and fries.

You’ve got a good feeling that you just made your first friend.

—

The sun was already setting down when you pulled into your apartment’s parking lot. At the very last minute, you turned into a drive-through and got some food on the go. The side trip took out 10 minutes of your time but at least you dodged the awful traffic that was building up by the highway.

Along with your laptop bag and your food, you trudge up to your third-floor apartment. It wasn’t what you wanted—the windows faced the street, the screen door doesn’t lock all the way—but it’s the one you got. As long as it’s got four walls and a roof, right?

You slip out of your work clothes and into some comfy jammies after a rewarding shower; the sooner you can get your food heat up, the sooner you can eat, and drink and then go to sleep.

So while waiting for the microwave to beep, you pry open your laptop. You told Bucky not to shut it down after he worked on it as to not lose your work on another profile, which he understood.

The work account he set up greeted you, along with the bright pink sticky note he stuck to your webcam. That wasn’t real, was it? All those cautionary tales of hackers using webcams to peep on you. Maybe he’s just trying to scare you, like some kind of initiation. Without a second thought, you took off the sticky note. It was kinda annoying anyway.

Clicking the Log Out Work button, your personal account popped into the frame. Your opened apps and documents displaying themselves for you to use. You pulled up Spotify and clicked on the first playlist you saw—which happened to be your intimate playlist.

Sure, the Pavlov reaction is real because halfway through the first song, you already found yourself getting all hot and bothered. This one’s your favorite song too.

You groan in annoyance, your food’s no longer a priority.

Picking up the laptop from the table, you walk to your bedroom, not bothering to shut the door. You live alone, it’s fine. You put the laptop on its loudest setting, setting it on your desk and you plopped down on your bed, the pillows and the comforter pooling on one side.

Your room is illuminated by a streak of light from the street. Your curtains flowing softly with the breeze that just came in.

Glancing at your laptop, you remembered Bucky. How his office smelled when you first walked in. How he stood tall when he greeted you. How he smiled. Those goddamn rings of his.

Before you caught yourself thinking rationally, your fingers are already splayed even over your thighs, caressing the soft flesh of your legs.

Bucky’s smirk and his cologne finding purchase in your fogged brain. Thoughts of him pulling you aside into his office to fool around—voices above hushed whispers as your skin erupts in goosebumps, the chilled air of his office finding its way up to your spine.

Oh, fuck it.

You undress fast, flinging your shirt over your head, dropping it somewhere below the bed. The air in your room making your nipples hard and erect as you pinch them. You breathe out a sigh, the heat of the moment creeping up your torso.

The material of your panties dampening as you imagine yourself bent over his desk, your skirt bunched over your hips as he laps your sopping cunt. Bucky’s tongue exploring your folds up and over until your pussy’s a quivering mess of drool and spit.

Your fingers slip past the band of your underwear. Even you surprised yourself by how wet you are.

God, you met him once and he’s already inching his way into your mind.

But who could blame you? You’ve been all over his Facebook profile when you learned his name via the office’s organizational chart. The first time you saw him, walking around the office with a laptop in his hands, you already knew you wanted to at least formally meet him. A scroll on his page, you found a band that you could tolerate listening to. (They’re okay, just not your taste in music.)

A plan came to mind when your department head told the team that you can work from home from time to time—only if you agreed to use a work laptop, a company-owned one. Your manager advised you to put in the request as soon as you can, for you to secure a unit before the on-hand supplies dwindle.

Deliberately sending in the request late—way, way later—than what your manager told you just so you could pull up the ‘new hire’ card and act dumb.

And it looked like he bought it too.

The image of him fucking you quiet while he grabs you from behind played inside your mind like a memory—a vision. Of how his thick cock would fill you up until your pussy is clenching around him. Would he pinch your throbbing clit, making you squirm and cream around him?

Your fingers are compared nothing to his, that’s for sure. But it does the work for now.

A breathy moan comes out of your mouth as you play with your clit, your cunt dripping down wetness as you continue to fondle your tits.

His hands would make a great addition to your chokers.

Your toes curl and your breath quickens, the coil in the pit of your stomach tightening—white-hot heat creeping up your limbs.

Oh, fuck, Bucky!

—

His ears perked up as he heard you moaning his name.

Bucky was busy watching you enjoy yourself when he got caught in the moment and decided to enjoy himself too.

He was barely keeping himself behaved when you first walked into the floor wearing a button-up and slacks that accentuated your backside. Bucky wished he was the one who gave you the tour and know your name for the first time, but that was impossible—he was in the IT department.

So when he got the news that new hires will be given the chance to work from home, he hoped that he gets to be the one to help you set up.

He was losing hope by the time he got your request, he thought that you opt not to work at home but then there you were, sending him an apologetic email on a late Friday afternoon.

Of course, he happily obliged. He even set up himself a little virtual camp in the background of your computer just so he can continue spending time with you.

Just thinking about you is already making him hard again. Bucky already came in hot spurts of white as he watched you desperately undress earlier. What can he say—he was waiting for you to show your tits already. As such, he correctly guessed that you’d be annoyed with the glaringly bright sticky note he used to ‘cover’ your webcam with.

But seeing you fingerfuck yourself all alone just wasn’t enough for him, he has to have you all by yourself.

#bitchassbucky writes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader smut #dark!bucky x reader fluff #dark!bucky x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader fluff #dark!bucky barnes x reader angst #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader fluff

[jasontoddiefor]

at what point does eirtae realize that vader was having her teach luke things like politics because he was going to be made the emperor?

Anon how does it feel to be singlehandedly responsible for me updating this story again despite wanting to finish ALttCe first?

Luke was a sweet child, all of Padmé and Anakin’s eagerness and thirst for knowledge. He wasn’t necessarily a fan of sitting still for a prolonged time, but that was easy enough to accommodate. Eirtaé had never seen herself as a teacher, but she and Luke learned how to make it work together. Despite his young age, Luke could teach her plenty about making do with machinery and Eirtaé, in turn, taught him how to perfect his penmanship and grow plants from seedlings. She wrapped otherwise dry lessons up in stories of Padmé and invented ten new games a day to keep Luke interested, occupied, and away from Vader’s planning.

The man hadn’t involved himself too much in Luke’s education. In fact, he seemed to take very little interest in any aspect that didn’t pertain to the Force. He’d outright forbidden Eirtaé from even just mentioning the Jedi, but other than that, there were no instructions for her. Needless to say, it was unsettling. Eirtaé could think on her own, so she put together Luke’s lessons from typical children’s school plans and what she remembered from her own childhood. That it had been over two decades ago since she’d seen the inside of a school and had been training to become Queen at that point seemed to matter little.

So Eirtaé did her duties without knowing what such were. The longer this uncertainty lasted, the more aggravated did she become. It also didn’t help that Luke, ever inquisitive, asked her why he needed to learn a particular subject. Trying to elaborate on politics and law only worked by constantly reminding him that Padmé had been interested in politics. His disinterest wasn’t too surprising. Law mattered little on Tatooine, but Eirtaé would prefer it if she had a concrete answer for Luke besides a “because your father is a prick and won’t tell me why” hidden behind a smile and another anecdote of Naboo’s court.

When one Benduday proved to be the awaited opportunity with Vader appearing in a less awful mood than usual, Eirtaé seized her chance. She planted herself right in front of him, separating him from Luke, who was sitting at his desk.

“For what purpose did you bring me here?” Eirtaé asked without much preamble, staring directly into the dark lenses of Vader.

“Move,” Vader ordered, not particularly impressed, but Eirtaé wasn’t deterred.

“I asked you a question, My Lord.”

She said my Lord as one would say you bastard and hoped it wasn’t too noticeable, not that Vader didn’t deserve it. What wouldn’t she give to look at Anakin’s open face again, see all his micro-expressions.

“You are to teach and guide Luke. I assumed you had understood that.”

The man looked at her like he expected Eirtaé to move out of the way, cease being a nuisance and get back to her job. Luke was distracted still, doodling away in the room behind them. Eirtaé was smart enough to know that his nearby presence was the only reason that this wasn’t already escalating into a repeat performance of the first time she’d confronted Vader about his past. Much like Anakin, he didn’t take well to pushing. Unlike Anakin, he lashed out violently. Eirtaé had yet to carry lasting bruises, but it was only a question of time until she misstepped. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Vader’s patient was thin on a good day.

“I can teach him. I am teaching him,” Eirtaé replied. “But I don’t know to what end. You could have hired any droid to teach Luke mathematics and as neurotic as Threepio was—” and as insane as Artoo had become while flying with Anakin, “—you easily could have built a droid like him to teach Luke. You don’t necessarily need me here.”

It was a dangerous admittance.

One of the first things she’d been taught in her training had been to make herself valuable. Naboo’s handmaidens were favored kidnapping victims as they almost knew as much as their monarch but weren’t special otherwise.

They were replaceable, and so they had to make themselves special and worth the hassle of keeping around. To tell Darth Vader that she wasn’t an essential tool to his son’s education, the one thing her life currently depended on, was a gamble.

Eirtaé had never been fond of games of chance, but she was running out of cards to play.

“I need to know what I’m preparing him for or I will fail regardless of what I am teaching him because it might not be the lesson he truly needs,” Eirtaé finished her argumentation.

“He is my son,” Vader said as if that were an answer.

Eirtaé wanted to scream in frustration. She wasn’t Padmé, who had mastered the art of reading her husband within a week, or Kenobi, who’d been able to predict Anakin’s every step right up until he hadn’t.

“That is a statement, not an answer I can work with. What exactly do you want for your son?”

She got the sense that he was narrowing his eyes at her, torn between just pushing the nuisance out of the way and giving her an honest reply.

Luke is there, she told herself. As long as Luke was within reach, he wouldn’t hurt her, too afraid of what his son would end up thinking of him for hurting his beloved aunt.

“Luke is the son of your Queen. You are meant to protect him.”

“Protect him from what?” Eirtaé hissed, ensuring to keep her voice down so Luke wouldn’t hear their argument. “Because I was also meant to protect my Queen and we failed because we didn’t know enough. I am loyal to my Queen and loyal to the Royal House of Naboo and that includes the child sitting behind me, but you cannot ask me to act on my loyalty and let me risk failing again at the same time.”

She didn’t think she’d be able to bear it. Eirtaé had been the first to understand why Padmé had been so foolish, for she loved the same way as her dear husband did, completely, entirely.

There were no fleeting crushes, no slow descend into love. It was a fast-paced rush. It had taken so much out of her to warm up to her Queen when she’d entered her court, jealousy still running through her veins, but once Eirtaé had been attached, she’d remained, unable to let go, to risk disappointing her Queen. Anakin Skywalker was just the same, as fiercely attached as Eirtaé could be and as Vader that quality only seemed to have twisted even more.

“You will not fail,” Vader said. “For now, teach him that he is the brightest star in the galaxy, that he was meant for all and everything there ever was and will be.”

All and everything, what a terrifying prospect from the Emperor’s enforcer—

Oh.

Eirtaé paled.

Nobody truly knew what Vader’s relationship to the Emperor was. The Emperor had no heirs by blood or adoption, and their Empire was too new to have established any kind of representative line in writing. Its form was not finished yet and Eirtaé dreaded the day it would be.

But Anakin Skywalker had spoken fondly of the Chancellor, his mentor. If Vader mentioned the Emperor at all in her presence, he called him Master and hissed that title in disdain. It did not resemble the love or adoration it used to carry when speaking of Kenobi.

Eirtaé also knew that it frustrated Vader to no end that he had to keep running missions for the Emperor and leave the two of them alone on Mustafar with nothing more than an upgraded droid squadron to protect them. Certainly, if the man knew that Vader had a child, a potential heir, he would give the man more time away.

Or he’d insist on raising the child himself, in the palace, far away from Vader’s influence and paternal care.

Eirtaé stepped aside, let Vader walk to Luke. The boy immediately perked up when he saw his father. Within the blink of an eye, he was out of his seat and had thrown himself at his father, blabbering away about his day and all he had learned today.

Did Luke know what Vader planned?

As soon as the question arose within her, Eirtaé discarded it. If he knew, he would have said something, made allusions to it. The boy was entirely clueless and for all sense and purpose, Anakin had never been a patient man and Vader wasn’t either.

He wouldn’t wait until the Emperor died of natural causes, he wouldn’t wait until his child was old enough and could understand the burden placed on his head.

He wouldn’t hide Luke away for a moment longer than necessary because his son was his sun, everything he loved and adored, the one pure thing in this galaxy.

Eirtaé swallowed as she watched father and son play, levitate little objects around the room.

All Hail His Imperial Highness, Luke Skywalker.

The Emperor.

#star wars #luke skywalker #anakin skywalker #darth vader #eirtaé #tiny emperor luke au #fanfic #lesbianjaskiers #ask

[neonponders]

💗🍑✨

Watered my plants today so here’s a drabble: ftm!Steve and gardener!Billy

Read on ao3 ~

Mrs. H wants a rose garden. They actually used to have roses in the flower beds in front of the house, but life got in the way and they were replaced with plants that could handle themselves, for the most part.

Thing is, Steve loves flowers. He stopped letting himself indulge in them because it was hard enough being “man enough,” but his friendship with Robin (and saving the world a few times) puts things into a new perspective.

He deserves to pursue his interests. And goodness knows, anything other people have tried to push on him haven’t worked apart from always make him looking like a fool.

So he gets a bunch of roses in little green “trainer” pots and gets to work during one of the last winter days where it’s cold in the air but hot under the sun. Steve plants peppermint (red and white striped) roses in the front flower beds, and red ones around one side of the pool; the side of the yard that slopes down and around to the front of the house, so the right angle from the street can see them. He even gets a fine mulch to blanket the new beds and goes to the quarry for free rocks to frame it all in.

Then a gardener shows up. His mom hired a freaking gardener.

Admittedly, Steve could have reacted better than, “Who the hell are you?”

But also, who arrives on their first day of work and says, “Wrong mulch, pretty boy.”

Steve had climbed out of the rose bed and faced the young and muscular guy, who blinked and his face flickered with something that Steve had seen dozens of times. The uncertainty between Steve’s height and his mother’s eyes and cheekbones. The movement of eyes analyzing the width of his shoulders and hips between a waistline he had worked damn hard on to be rectangular instead of hour-glass shaped.

“What’s wrong with the mulch?” Steve bit out as he planted his hands on his hips. He couldn’t say why he had the habit; some traumatized mixture of hiding his hips and making him look wider. Stronger. Deserving of the space he held.

“There was a recall from that brand. A whole vat of pesticide fell into it. It’s too toxic for flowering or fruiting plants.”

Steve could hear Robin’s voice in his head. If a man explains something to me one more time, I’m going to start frothing at the mouth.

God, Steve loved her. She helped him see all the micro-aggressions men did to him because they mentally catalogued Steve as the wrong gender. It helped him realize how bad he was at reading people and why he’d made the wrong “friends” up until now.

“How was I supposed to know that?” he retorted grumpily.

The gardener - with his stupid face already golden in the winter, and a stupid curl falling over his forehead like he styled it for landscaping or something - smiled. “Get a rake, peach. We’ll replace it by lunchtime.”

Peach? Steve fumed.

So...yeah. Not the best start.

Even worse, this guy named Billy really fed into the pet name. Greeted him with, “Hey, peaches,” all the time, and went inside to use the bathroom only to bring out sliced peaches and yogurt.

“It’s finally getting hot out. Sugar’s good for you.”

Steve hated him. He hated him for calling him Peach, and he hated him for putting salt on his fruit ever since Steve stomped inside and corrected the stupid snack the way he liked it.

And then Steve’s own red rose bloomed. He despised the irony but there it was. Robin helped him despise it less and less. Her own tactics for dealing with cramps, food cravings, and headaches really saved him; and just having the company made him feel less like a fish in the wrong ocean.

It came early, though, and it was a doozy.

Steve and Billy were only weeding the beds with occasional pruning of the branches, but eventually Steve just had to lie down. He’d started bleeding that morning, but in less than twenty minutes his abdomen was swollen and he felt the cramps all the way down his inner thighs to his feet.

The grass was cool underneath his cheek. Being horizontal helped the headache but not everything else -

“Hey, Peach. Sit up a little. I got you something.”

“Fluff off.”

Billy...didn’t laugh. Steve heard him huff through his nose and drape a towel or something over him before setting something on the grass. “Don’t knock it over.”

Steve opened his eyes and saw a glass of water and a glorious little pill on a toilet paper square. Steve gulped it down as fast as he could and settled once more...underneath Billy’s jacket. He supposed it was still a little cold in the morning shade.

When he could, he folded the jacket and set it on the poolside concrete before going inside to get himself more water, a little coffee, and to, you know, check -

He’d bled through his jeans.

Like the weight of water crashing over his head, Steve wilted in the bathroom. It wasn’t a big stain, but Billy had to know, right? Steve tried to remember where exactly he’d placed his jacket on top of Steve. Was it to keep him warm, higher up on his shoulder? Or lower, to give him the courtesy of privacy?

Steve wasn’t a coward. And he sure as hell wasn’t going another day with this gardener treating him like-like...

Like what?

Robin would skin him alive for not wanting to be treated like a girl. What does that even mean, Steve? Treated with respect? Treated like a person? What does it mean to be treated like a man, then? Who is devalued here? 

Steve sighed and yanked on fresh underwear and jeans. Why was gender so hard? He knew he was Steve, and Robin liked to tell him he over-simplified things - which was a hell of a nicer way of saying he shined less than other bulbs - but he couldn’t deal with the wondering or the tip-toeing around this incredibly masculine and pretty and annoying gardener.

Billy was down the slope in the side-yard. Steve didn’t know why he was planting a sapling, of all things. His mother never said anything about wanting a tree, but he ignored that and barked, “I need to talk to you.”

“I’m listening,” he said without turning around. Steve fumed as soil got patted down around the base of the tree.

“We need to talk about my – me. We need to talk about me.”

“Are you feeling better?” Billy stood and went to the wheelbarrow of mulch.

This was too frustrating. Steve came right out with. “Do you know? Like – because my name is Steve. But I’m not sure you get it – ”

“I get it. Steve.”

Billy finally looked at him and used the shears from his belt to clip off the large tag fluttering on the branch of the tree. “It’s you who doesn’t get it.”

He pushed the tag against the front of Steve’s shirt. The latter now had a prop to syphon his frustration into. He waved the tag around as he exploded, “What do you – You don’t get to know me better than – ”

“Romance really flies right by you.”

And.

Well.

Whatever lake or ocean Steve flailed in, he sure gaped out of water now.

Billy stepped up to him, making Steve shut his trap and swallow a wet sound. He purred in between them, “This is the part where you read the tag.”

Steve really hated being a slower reader. He felt like every second was a month as he read the tag, and then flipped it over…

Peach trees have had romantic significance in many cultures for centuries. In mythology, Paris of Troy granted a golden peach to Aphrodite in competition with Hera and Athena, thereby crowning her the most beautiful. In return, Aphrodite promised him the most beautiful person in the world, Helen of Sparta.

Their fruit symbolizes unrivaled happiness, as nothing compares to the taste of a peach. In the language of flowers, peach blossoms have come to mean infatuation, or captured love.

Steve blinked at that for a long second and then found an extremely convenient little info-graphic that his brain absorbed more easily:

Peach: your qualities and charms are unequaled.

Blossoms: I am your captive.

“Um,” he fumbled, because his brain was dangerously close to asking, Are you Paris or Helen in this?

“I’ve seen how you look at me.”

Steve’s head jerked up. “No you haven’t!”

Billy, that bastard, grinned. “Yes, I have. I know you like me. You wouldn’t be so mean to me otherwise.”

“I’m mean because you deserve it,” Steve growled, but he wasn’t doing well at putting distance between them. Good god, the man had freckles on his nose and cheeks.

Billy pinched the front of Steve’s shirt. “I know what else I deserve,” and pulled a light little moan out of Steve when he captured his lips.

Billy’s lips were soft, and his hand was a little sweaty where it came to hold the side of Steve’s neck and jaw. Steve couldn’t help but say against Billy’s breath, “You don’t mind?”

“ ‘Course I don’t mind,” Billy murmured almost angrily. “It’s not the 1880s.”

“You just relied on a plant to tell me you like me. That’s pretty sappy-Victorian-show-trope to me.”

“I had to get creative. You’re already surrounded by roses every time I see you.”

Steve giggled breathily in the little space between them. Something in his body moved like a trapeze artist when the pink tip of Billy’s tongue moved inside his mouth, from one side of his bottom lip to the other.

“Roses? Too old school for me,” Steve teased.

“Good. Any more old school and it’d be awkward for me to keep doing this.”

Steve may or may not have gotten sunburnt from kissing too long.

Billy somehow found peach-scented sunscreen.

Steve also may or may not have thrown the bottle at him.

#harringrove #ftm!steve #gardener!billy #ficlet #pondermoniums #neonponders #i've never written a ftm character before #so i hope it's okay #🥺

[snifflesthemouse]

I'm still rather new to Tumblr. While I've clearly displayed my ability to post my ramblings, I'm still figuring out the other various features of this platform. For the sake of reference, I have posted a screenshot below.

While I completely agree with @youhavebeenmarkled that it's grossly inappropriate to suggest Catherine, the future Queen Consort, is a drug addict... I want to add to the discussion and further develop why the concept of Catherine microdosing heroin is entirely ignorant.

@youhavebeenmarkled mentions several excellent points as to why the concept is ridiculous; from genetics to muscle tone and more. But there's deeper reasons why this idea of Catherine being on heroin is so far from the truth and reality, it's out of this world. Some could even argue it sounds like a page from a Hollywood script.

Before I get started, though, I want (and need) to stress a few things. I am in no way shaming anyone. As I've shared in the past, I am the last person in the universe qualified to pass judgement on anything or anyone. My posts are simply my perspectives, my opinions. I look at facts in the public domain, and with my own knowledge and life experience, I form my thoughts.

Please remember while you read this, I am not looking down on anyone. I am not bragging about knowing what drug addiction is or is not. I am only sharing some insights with you, the reader, on what real life heroin addiction is like. My only goal is giving insight.

I am not proud of my past, and I am not condoning it. Nor should you. Accountability is how I stay clean. Please do not feel like I am suggesting non-addicts are ignorant or "square". Not knowing or understanding heroin addiction is a blessing. It's a good thing to be in the dark about certain things because it means you're smarter than people like me.

Be proud of the fact you don't automatically see why these blind items are total nonsense from the start. And if you aren't proud of yourself, just know I am proud AF of you. For those of you like myself who have been through the hell of addiction, remember we do recover. With all that being said, let's get going.

You see, anyone with firsthand experience or knowledge of true heroin addiction would automatically know these rumors are absolutely ridiculous. Why? Because heroin addiction doesn't work that way.

Now don't get me wrong. The world is filled with functioning closet addicts. I myself was a functioning closet addict for years before the world was any the wiser. The key point, though, is the world did eventually get wiser.

Heroin addiction usually starts out in one of a few ways. Most Americans addicted to heroin became that way because of prescription painkillers. For example, I first got addicted to pain pills. When the pain pills became impossible to get, I took what I could get that was the closest equivalent. That was heroin.

But some people start using heroin because they did some at a party with friends. Or they have a loved one addicted and wanted to see what the fuss was all about. Some people are hooked on other drugs, like cocaine or ecstasy, and their usual dealer offers a free sample of the latest batch of heroin. There's a saying among addicts; "The first one's free."

Dealers know they can increase their profitability if they can get established clients addicted to other products they traffic. But these are just a few examples of how people get started using heroin. Very rarely does anyone start out on heroin simply because they want to stay thin. Contrary to the popular belief known to many as "heroin chic" that came from supermodels in the mid 80s and 90s.

Heroin is what addicts refer to as a euphoria narcotic. It has a euphoric effect, and it is sometimes called a "downer". Cocaine, crack cocaine, methamphetamine, or amphetamines are called "uppers" or "speeders" because they stimulate the brain and give energy. While heroin can have that affect on people, it is not the traditional go-to for illicit weight management.

In other words, if Catherine really did use microdosing (a concept I will debunk in a moment), her first, best choice would be a stimulant like cocaine because it's much more effective at appetite suppression and providing energy. Heroin wouldn't be the first, best choice for many reasons.

Because of its nature, heroin is highly addictive. Most users begin snorting the drug in powder form. Within seconds to a minute, the substance enters the bloodstream and hits the brain. The brain then releases endorphins that travel the rewards pathway in the brain. The first time one uses heroin is the highest they will ever feel from using. Every subsequent dose releases less and less endorphins in the brain. This is why recovering addicts talk about chasing their sobriety like they chased their first high. This is also why microdosing is an almost-impossible behavior.

Microdosing means taking tiny, small amounts over time. Meaning that you only use the minimum amount to achieve the effect you desire. But the problem is, your brain becomes physically dependent on the substance over time. Every time an addict uses, the brain gets more dependent on that substance to function. So, while a non-addict's brain has no issues with their brain producing endorphins, an addict's brain does. This is why heroin is so addictive.

Eventually, a heroin addict's brain will become so reliant on heroin to produce endorphins, the addict will become entirely dependent. This is also known as becoming hooked. When the addict doesn't have the minimum amount of heroin the body is accustomed to, or depending upon, the addict will start withdrawal. This is often called being "dope sick" or "detoxing".

Detoxing or being dope sick is the driving force behind addicts staying addicts. Being dope sick is the biggest fear of an addict. So much so, the fear of detoxing is enough to drive otherwise good, decent human beings to doing absolutely whatever it takes to avoid detoxing. Stealing from loved ones, manipulating innocent bystanders, lying, cheating, robbing, selling your body... are the half of it.

Being dope sick is like having the worst flu of your life times a million. You will vomit, have uncontrollable diarrhea, and your body will hurt worse than anything you could ever imagine. If you detox for more than a day, you will begin to feel like your insides are shaking, burning, and pulling apart inside. You can't sleep. You can't eat. You can't get out of bed. You miss work and lose your job (if you still have one at this point). You get desperate before this point, and you get carnal after this point.

Your brain and entire body becomes dependent on this substance to function subpar. Without this substance, everything begins to stop working properly. Depending on exactly how much you use normally, your withdrawal can become life threatening. You can have seizures, strokes, or even go into cardiac arrest. Hopefully you can see by now why I say the concept of microdosing is ridiculous.

To be able to micro dose would require the self control and willpower of a super human. This reminds me of an article I once read about a college professor who advocated for drug use. He claimed he wasn't addicted, had control of his drug use, and was a productive member of society. He said he'd use heroin like others drink after a long day of work. Yet, he's been using it for over a decade. Yet, he experienced detoxing. That professor is a prime example of an addict in denial. But I digress...

My points are this:

1. Heroin wouldn't be the first choice for weight control or appetite suppression; cocaine or stimulants like meth or ritalin would be.

2. Microdosing is an almost-impossible method of drug use because the body gets hooked quickly. Which means the dose will only increase in amount in order to have the same effects over time.

3. Heroin causes an addiction that results in serious, life threatening withdrawal that drives even the nicest person to doing the worst of the worst.

4. Heroin addiction, even in small amounts, takes no time to invade and overtake one's life. It literally only takes one time to get hooked. It literally takes no time to destroy everything.

Oh, and one more thing before I put a sock in it... at the height of my active addiction, I was using around 2 grams a day to feel normal. I spent at minimum $200 a day on heroin. Sometimes even more. When I started out, I was only using a tenth or less. It takes 10 of those to make a gram. So within two months of starting, I went from doing one tenth to needing 20 of those tenths just to feel normal and function. All the while, I never got smaller than 150 pounds.

I know it sounds terrible, but I would lament over how unfair it was. I was doing all this heroin, and I was still thick AF. I would literally joke to fellow addicts I would use with how it was total bullshit. How was it I was using 2 grams a day and still a size 12 or 14? That's how sick I was in my disease. Which is my final point.

Not everyone on heroin is "heroin chic" skinny. The effort, will power, and self control it would take to "microdose" would be far greater than what it would take to control one's diet and exercise. Plus it would be much cheaper to hire a trainer than employ a drug dealer.

I hope this very long, detailed, winded post gives better insight to the deeper reasons the blind item is so dumb. I also hope it gives insight to the real life of heroin addiction. My goal was, and is, to provide real examples to the blind item's absurdity. If I can help people better understand heroin addiction, potentially deterring someone from ever touching it or even a loved one learning something that could help someone they know struggling with addiction... well that would be a bonus.

P.S. If you or a loved one you know is struggling with addiction, there is help out there. If you have any questions or just need someone to listen, please feel free to message me. I will do my best to help. I've been there. They say the only way to keep your sobriety is by giving it away... I have plenty to give. Be forewarned, though, I am unapologetically blunt and honest to a fault. I mean no harm, but I will not sugar coat anything.

[hockeyboysiguess]

i think he knows | n. mackinnon

a/n: in honor of mine and @nolypats‘s campaign for nate mack for july 2020 hockey boy of the month, i had to provide with you some content. here’s my pitch. 

warnings: language, smut, smut, smut. this really doesn’t have a plot and none of you are here for one anyway. also, wrap it before you tap it, kids!

wine pairing recommendation: a nice dark red bordeaux, classy and sexy, like nate mack, even though i would not call this fic particularly classy in any way whatsoever.

word count: 4.6K

You took a deep breath before taking a second sip of your drink. The bartender has turned your larger than normal tip into a much larger than normal pour of vodka and you weren’t sure his response was entirely proportional, meaning the drink had burned the entire length of your throat. Your momma didn’t raise a quitter though, so you drank on anyway. 

“Baby, come meet Landy.” 

Nate’s hand was pressed against the small of your back as he caught your attention. He had a hand hovering over you, on the small of your back, your hip, an arm across your shoulder, the entire night. He was showing you off all night, letting you take center stage at the kick off to the season party, also your first party as his girlfriend. You were smart, funny and your favorite little black dress was doing wonders for your confidence tonight. You were charming every coach, teammate, and Avalanche executive in your path. Nate wasn’t the least bit surprised. He knew everyone would love you and told you in the car on the way over, in the kitchen before you left, the second after he’d invited you to come.

“Oh, he’s finally unattached?” you asked with a raise of your eyebrows. 

His captain had been occupied all night, but Nate was desperate for you to meet him. You knew Gabe was important to him, so you took another sip of your too strong drink, wincing a little at the taste.

“Bad drink?” he asked you, catching your micro-expression out of the corner of his eye.

“Too strong,” you admitted with a sigh, “but momma didn’t raise no quitter.” 

Nate laughed, letting his large hand slide from the small of your back to your side which allowed him to pull you against him for a quick squeeze. He pressed a lazy kiss to the side of your head as he laughed. 

“But my momma raised me,” he reached over and plucked the glass from your hand with his free one, “to be a gentleman. A gentleman doesn’t let a lady drink a bad drink.”

He took a sip of it, lips pulling back in disgust at the taste. You watched as he made his peace with the drink, shrugging before going back for another sip. 

“It’s bad,” he nodded softly in agreement with what you’d informed him earlier. “But doable. Let’s get you a different one before we bug Landy, okay?” 

You let him guide him over to the bar, large hand spanning across your back as he did. The heat from the palm of his hand felt like it was burning through your dress and into your skin below, lighting a fire within you. Passion had never been something you and Nate had lacked together. He ordered you a drink, something you would’ve verbally undressed your last boyfriend for angrily, but the way Nate did it made you want to undress him after this event was over.

You couldn’t stop yourself from letting your eyes rake over your boyfriend as you waited for your new drink, taking him in. Nate was leaned against the bar, an elbow resting on the dark wood as he waited. He was wearing an absolutely impeccable blue gray suit, with a black button up underneath. He’d chosen to forgo a tie, a decision you were slightly bitter about since you loved pulling him in by his tie, but you had to admit, he was always dressed perfectly for events like this. Your eyes trailed down, seeing how the fabric fit his strong arms, pulling and tensing when he shifted to grab his glass again. Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched his hand wrap around the cold glass as he brought it up to his lips. Nate’s large hand enveloped the glass, dwarfing it as his fingers wrapped around the condensation covered glass. It made you swallow hard as your mind wandered to other times those hand were wrapped around you, long fingers in you, making you scream his name. If you played your cards right, he’d probably make it happen again tonight. Seeing you fall apart for him and then carefully putting you back together again after with soft kisses and touches was one of his absolute favorite things to do. He’d do it every day if he could.

“See something you like?” 

Nate cocked an eyebrow at you as he asked his question, but made no effort to hide how his eyes travelled up and down the length of your body, hovering at his favorite parts, the curve of your chest, the way your hips filled out in that dress. That dress was going to kill him, but damn was it going to be a nice way to go. 

“I hope you do,” he cut in before you could respond, “because I see something I’m dying to get my hands on as soon as possible.”

You swallowed hard, trying to pull your thoughts out of path they’d begun to speed down as your legs unconsciously crossed, desperate for friction. At least you knew Nate was feeling the same way you were. That knowledge carried you through the rest of the evening. You were sure Nate’s captain and everyone else you met were wonderful, but you couldn’t remember a single thing about any of them. Your mind was focused on one thing and one thing only, getting Nate back home with his hands all over you.

When you walked out into the cool September air, you breathed in deeply, feeling relief that Nate had finally found an opening to escape the party that wouldn’t be seen as rude. Nate had an arm around you, large hand spanning across your hip as he guided you to the car. You were usually grateful Nate hired a car for events like this, but tonight you wished one of you had driven because then you could speak your mind as loudly as you wanted. You had to settle for whispering into his ear after climbing into the backseat. 

“You look so good tonight,” you whispered in his ear, letting your lips graze his skin as you spoke as your fingers ran through the hair at the back of his neck. 

Nate sucked in a breath through his teeth. He’d never made any effort to hide how he felt about you, how easily you turned him on, and he wasn’t about to start tonight. One of his hands slid under the hem of your dress and gently started to rub up and down your thigh, staying away from where you wanted him and where he wanted to touch. You were his and he wasn’t about to give the driver a show Nate paid him to attend. His hand covered your inner thigh easily, fingertips dragging across the soft sensitive skin there in a way that made you desperate for him and his touch. 

Nate tilted his head softly, encouraging you to turn your head so he could whisper in your ear this time. You knew whatever he was about to say was going to make this twenty minute drive seem like hours. 

“I cannot wait to watch you cum for me tonight,” he said softly, his tone a mix of love and lust for you. “Hope you know I’m in charge tonight.” 

He gave your inner thigh a squeeze as he spoke. You opened your mouth to try and debate him, thinking you’d love to see him under you, begging for you tonight, but Nate suddenly changed the status quo. His hand on your thigh shifted and his long fingers reached up, brushing over your lace-covered slit. When he ghosted over your covered clit, you almost screamed in the car, having to bite your lip hard enough you had teetered dangerously on the edge of drawing blood to stop yourself. You were aching for him and he knew exactly what he was doing to you. In all fairness to Nate, you were his weakness and you had worn that little black dress he loved so much. 

Nate teased you the entire ride home, spilling filthy words into your ear and letting his fingers make you soak through your panties with the lightest of touches. You were practically in pieces by the time the car rolled up in front of his building. You were sure he was going to have to pick you up out of the backseat to get you inside because you thought your legs would crumple as soon as you tried to stand. Nate had an arm out, waiting for you, so you leaned heavily on him instead of really finding out. 

The second the elevator closed, you let out a small chuckle. 

“You know how hard that was, right?” you asked him.

Nate smirked as he looked down at you. Nothing Nate did was an accident and you knew that before you’d even asked. He also never made the same mistake twice, which is why his fingertips were drumming on your hip and why he didn’t have you pressed against the wall of the elevator as his mouth worked to pull moans that you didn’t even know you could make from you. Coming seconds from getting caught with his mouth on your throat and hand up your skirt once had been one too many times for Nate. The elevator was strictly off limits, but you’d never wished more that the rule was flexible. It wasn’t and you knew better to push. 

The second the elevator doors open, Nate pulled you toward his front door in a rush. He tried to keep it together in public, but this was inches from his apartment. He wanted his girlfriend and fifty feet of carpet and a door he had the key to were the only things stopping him. Damn if he didn’t cross that fifty feet faster than he normally did. Damn if his hands weren’t shaking that it took six tries to get the key into the lock to actually get the damn door open. 

He managed to get the door open on that sixth attempt, finally, and pulled you into his apartment, kicking the door closed and locking it again with one smooth motion. You paused, waiting to see what he had planned. 

“Clothes off, bed, now,” was all he said as he kicked off his dress shoes. 

You turned on your heels and headed for his room without any debate. Sometimes you liked to give Nate a hard time, but the wetness pooling between your thighs was demanding your silence since you knew if you listened to him, you’d get what you needed faster. You kicked off your heels and unzipped your dress, letting the soft material pool at your ankles before stepping out of it, hands working to unclasp your bra before you heard a whistle behind you. 

“Hold on, hold on,” Nate said from the doorway. “Turn to face me.” 

You spun on your heels, hands fidgeting anxiously as Nate extended the time before you could really feel some relief. He was leaded against the doorframe, still fully dressed in that incredible suit. His arms were crossed over his chest as he let his indigo eyes drink you in, relishing at the site of you in front of him 

“That’s a new set, isn’t it?” he asked you.

“Saw it and thought you might like it.” 

You let an easy confidence come through your words. Nate always made sure he told you when you thought you looked particularly good, which was multiple times every single day. He considered making sure you knew he found you “absolutely mind-blowing kinds of sexy” one of his most important jobs as your boyfriend. He loved when you were confident in yourself. It made him feel like he was treating you right and also just thought you looked your best when you thought you looked your best. 

“You’re wrong,” Nate shook his head before letting out a long breath. “I fucking love it.” 

You giggled and Nate was pretty sure if he died right then, that would be okay with him. Sure, he’d really like to touch you and taste you one more time, but if that laugh was the last thing he ever heard and if you in a black lacy lingerie set you bought with him in mind standing in his bedroom was the last thing he saw, that would be alright with him. 

Nate shook his head softly before pushing off from the doorframe with his shoulder to meet you in the middle of the room. He reached for you and you leaned toward him, biting back a moan as his hands touched your skin instead of your dress. The things this man did to you were either angelic or downright criminal, depending on how you looked at it. He let his hands coast up and down your sides, feeling the transition between the lace and your skin, feeling the goosebumps rise as a result of his touch. He loved how your body unconsciously reacted to him. Sometimes he felt like you were made for him.

Neither one of you could take it any longer and his mouth found yours. Both of you moaned at the contact as Nate wrapped you up in him, his large hands sliding around you to find purchase on the small of your back. His mouth worked vigorously against yours, tongue working across yours, his teeth nipping at your lips, as he guiding you backward to the bed. Nate’s hands slid up, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as he reached up to unclasp your bra. You worked with him to toss it to the floor. It had a good two minute run, longer than you’d thought it would last. 

Nate’s hands trailed down your body, two long fingers on each side sliding under and curling around the edge of the waistband of your thong before he yanked it down, letting it join the rest of your clothes on the floor. You thought it was unfair he was still fully clothed and you were fully naked, that is until he pushed you back onto the mattress and sank to his knees in front of you. The sight of him between your thighs in the suit made you moan. Nate’s eyes snapped from your pussy he’d been admiring to your face. He gave you a knowing soft smile as he placed his hands on your calfs, slowly and steadily making his way up your legs, fingertips dancing over your knees and thighs as he made his way to exactly where you wanted him. 

“Like what you see?” he asked you, knowing full well he never intended to hear you answer before two of his long fingers found your slit. 

Your head dropped back onto the mattress as you let out a moan that was far too loud considering this was the first time Nate had actually touched you all evening. His fingertips found your clit and starting working in smooth, slow circles. You could feel his eyes on you, studying your body for your reactions. You would tell him if you wanted him to go faster or slower, but he was trying to figure it out for himself so he wouldn’t even need you to tell him. It was his latest challenge to himself and he was getting pretty fucking good at it. 

His fingers shifted forward, applying more pressure and pulling another moan from you. You were so wet for him, so needy for him, you were closer to your orgasm than you usually were. You thought about letting Nate know, but suddenly he brought his other hand up and slide two long fingers into you without warning.

“Oh, fuck, Nate,” you whined at the sensation.

His fingers were so long inside of you and he knew exactly what he was doing. He curled them ever so slightly up as he pulled out, pulling the moan he wanted from deep in your chest. His fingers on your clit starting moving a little faster, pushing a little harder down, as his fingers inside you slid in an out at a steady pace. Nate knew better than to think he should change what he was doing when something was clearly working for you, just doing slight adjustments that make you want to scream. 

“Nate,” you whined again as your hands grabbed onto his bed sheets, pulling them tight in your hands. 

“That’s it,” Nate said softly before placing a kiss on your inner thigh. “Just focus on me.” 

The idea that you could possibly be thinking of anything else right now was beyond you. You did your best to listen to him, prying your eyes open to look at him. You bit your lip at the sight. Nate was focused on you, his eyes jumping all over you. He was noticing how your breathing changed when he changed an angle slightly or added more pressure. He was noticing what made your legs start to shake. He was taking in every single detail, committing it to memory so he could do even better the next time, and so he could make through the long road trips to come. How he was supposed to go up to two weeks at a time without your pussy was beyond him. 

“Nate,” you breathed out. “I’m so close.” 

Nate shifted on his knees, bringing his face closer to your core. Without warning, he replaced his fingers on your clit with his mouth and sucked on the bundle of nerves softly and slid a third finger inside you at the same time. You couldn’t stop yourself from screaming this time as your hands flew to tangle in his blond hair as your orgasm hit you. Nate pulled you through it, milking you for every shake and moan he could. He slowed his movements as he felt you come down, coming to a stop when you fully did. He pulled back slowly, placing a soft kiss on your clit, before sliding his fingers out of you. You winced at the loss of contact, making Nate smirk a little. 

You felt the bed shift to your right as Nate climbed up next to you and you turned your head to look at him. His lips were slightly swollen and wet with you. His eyes were dark and hungry and he was still wearing his fucking suit. You wanted to rip it off him more than anything, but Nate was in charge tonight so instead, he offered you his fingers.

“You want to taste?” Nate asked. “You taste so fucking good, baby.” 

You nodded softly and sat up next to him, making Nate smile. He offered you his fingers and you obliged, parting your lips so he could slide them in between. He was slow and steady as he slid his fingers deeper, letting you take over and see how deep you could take them. When his fingers hit the back of your throat, Nate groaned and cursed softly. 

“Jesus, fuck, baby,” he breathed out as you sucked hard on his fingers and began sliding back, letting his fingers fall out of your mouth after a few moments.

“You’re still dressed,” you mumbled, wiping the corners of your mouth off. 

Nate smiled at you, the facade of the moment falling as he leaned forward to press a searing, sweet kiss to your lips. By the time he pulled back, he was already back in the moment. He stood up, taking his suit jacket off as he went. You watched with eager eyes as his fingers fumbled with the small buttons on his dress shirt because he was just as eager to be inside you as you were. He sighed as he managed to get the last button open, letting the shirt fall to the ground. His dress pants and boxers joined almost immediately and you subconsciously licked your lower lip at the sight of him. 

Nate groaned in relief as he wrapped one of his large hands around himself and stroked up and down a few times, his eyes trained on your body as he did. He bit his lower lip when you spread your legs for him, giving him a full view of how wet you still were for him. He shook his head softly and smiled in a way that told you he was thinking that he couldn’t believe you were really his. 

He dropped onto the bed next to you again, sliding his back against the headboard and stretching his legs out in front of him. You hadn’t expected that, so you gave him a curious look. He just pat his thighs and waved a hand at you, encouraging you to come over. You didn’t fight and swung one of your legs over his large thighs to straddle his lap. One of his hands grabbed your hip keeping you suspended above him. He grabbed his hard cock in the other hand, lining it up with your entrance, before pulling down on your hip to pull you down onto him. You both groaned at the feeling of him finally being inside of you tonight. 

“You always feel so fucking good,” Nate mumbled out between deep breaths as he adjusted to the feeling of you around him. 

Both of his hands slid under the curve of your ass, one of them tapping the flesh there softly in a way that made you yelp and Nate laugh on his way to his destination. His fingertips dug into the soft skin there and his arms tensed as he pulled you up, almost sliding out of you, before guiding you back down. You hissed out as he filled you completely. 

“Too much?” Nate asked you, pausing his movements to check in with you. 

“So good,” was all you could say in reply. 

Nate’s hands pressed harder into the skin of your ass as he pulled you back up, letting gravity drop you back down again. Nate’s arms tensed each time he lifted you up, but he was far from complaining about the amount of work he was putting in right now. He was in control of everything and loving every second of it as he tucked his face into your neck, mouth moving across the skin there to heighten the sensations for you and just enjoying the feeling of you around him as he slid in and out of you. Your nails were digging into his broad shoulders to find stability, but he certainly wasn’t complaining

Nate paused for a moment with you lifted. He shifted beneath you, sliding down the mattress a little to get better leverage, before he bucked his hips up to meet yours. You gasped at how deep he was able to get from that angle, your head rolling back. Nate took it, as he should, as encouragement and repeating the motion, fucking you from below as he held you up. 

“Jesus, Nate,” you moaned as he hit a particularly good angle and bit down on a sensitive spot on your neck at the same time. 

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed out in response. 

He paused again, his hands sliding up to your waist this time as he guided you onto your back, shifting so he was hovering over you instead. Nate grabbed one of your legs and placed it up on his shoulder, checking in with you to make sure the position was good. He settled himself between your thighs and guided himself back into you after he got your enthusiastic approval. You both were grateful and groaned to show it. 

From this angle, Nate could pick up the pace more. One of his hands was on your leg, fingerprints digging into your skin, and the other was splayed out on the mattress by your head to keep his balance as he fucked you. You looked up at him, face twisted in concentration and pleasure, and you bit your lower lip. You hesitantly slid one of your hands down your body towards your slit. 

“Oh, fuck yes,” Nate groaned appreciatively.

Nate absolutely loved watching you touch yourself while he fucked you and you were more than happy to do it. You placed two fingers on your clit and started rubbing in smooth circles. You immediately tightened around Nate, making him curse between his teeth and making you feel proud. You loved that you could pull that reaction from him and he loved giving it to you. 

“Oh, Nate!” you shouted as he hit just the right spot inside you, making your toes curls. 

Nate shifted his hips to allow him to hit that same spot again and again, watching you fall apart as he did it. You chased your second orgasm of the night and Nate brought you over the edge, screaming his name again. He almost lost it at the feeling of you orgasming around him, but he had other plans and losing it then wasn’t in the cards. 

“God, that’s,” Nate leaned down, planting a wet kiss on your mouth, “so fucking hot to watch.” 

You giggled, but it turned into a moan as Nate thrust into you again. He picked up the pace, meaning he was close to the edge. You were surprised he’d lasted past your orgasm since usually that pulled him over the edge with you. 

“I want to cum on you,” he got out between thrusts.

You nodded in approval and Nate moaned when he saw your reaction. He really hadn’t expected you to say yes, so his mind was  fighting to try to keep himself together long enough to pull out so he didn’t finish inside of you. He pulled out quickly, one of his large hands wrapping around himself and stroking one, two, three times before hot ribbons of cum began to fall onto your chest. Nate groaned as finished on you, his eyes taking in the site of you covered in his cum. His. 

As Nate came down from his high, he rocked back onto his knees and let your leg fall from his shoulder onto the bed. His indigo eyes danced over you, taking in the sight beneath him. You looked absolutely incredible spent and covered in his cum, all because of him. Nate reached out, his hands hovering slightly over your chest for a moment, before he placed his hands onto your covered skin. He slowly and steadily, large hands taking their time, spread his cum across your chest, thoroughly covering you in him. You hummed in pleasure at the feeling, loving the feeling of his hands sliding over your skin. The sound made Nate choke a little as he had been expecting you to push him away before he’d even gotten this far. 

“God, you look so good like this,” he mumbled. “Covered in my cum.” 

“Mm, all for you,” you answered softly, a hand going up to stroke his jaw.

Nate breathed in deeply before pulling his hands back. You could see his mind working for a second before he offered you his fingers for a second time that night, pressing the tips of two to your lips. You let your lips part, allowing his long fingers into your mouth. You could taste him and yourself from earlier on his fingers, making you moan around him. Nate cursed at the sound and again when you sucked on his fingers, letting your tongue roll around them in your mouth to clean them off. You released them with a pop and Nate let out a long breath. 

“How about,” you cleared your throat before continuing, “you go start a shower for us and we do round two in the shower?” 

You didn’t have to tell Nate twice. He was already off the bed and heading to the bathroom as soon as the words “round two” left your lips. 

#nathan mackinnon #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon fanfic #nathan mackinnon fic #100% certified canadian beef #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl imagine #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey writing #hockey imagine

[weirdcanucks]

For our final film of the series, we look at the subject of Indigenous hockey. Based on Ojibwe author Richard Wagamese’s novel, Indian Horse uses the hook of hockey to grapple with Canada’s darkest policy: the Indian residential school system.

We'll look at the criticism towards this film: failure to keep the novel's indigenous storytelling methods, narrative colonialism (adapted entirely by white key creatives), and more importantly, the industry problem of the lacking opportunities for Indigenous filmmakers. Circling back to the Holtby mask and Canucks logo cases, I think it's very well worth a read!

Synopsis

Torn from his Ojibwe family as a child in the 1950s, Saul Indian Horse is left to languish in an Ontario residential school, where he's forbidden to speak his own language and faces corporal punishment for the slightest transgression. Undaunted, Saul finds salvation on a sheet of ice, where he demonstrates a hockey sense that allows him to slip bodychecks with a dancer's grace and constantly leaves him three moves ahead of opponents. However, even when his talent allows him to escape the school and places him on the precipice of stardom, he can't evade the ramifications of past abuses.

Keep Reading for:

Why wasn’t an Indigenous director hired to make Indian Horse?

Indian Horse and the limits of allyship in adaptation

Rethinking Canada through Indigenous hockey

Witnessing painful past: Understanding the images of sports at Canadian Residential School

📄 Why wasn’t an Indigenous director hired to make Indian Horse?

Director Stephen S. Campanelli explains his reaction to reading the late Richard Wagamese’s novel and Dennis Foon’s adapted screenplay. “I was shocked and angered and embarrassed to be a Canadian and not know about this. And I wrote an impassioned six-page email saying why I needed to direct it.”

The uncomfortable question that I’m certainly not the first to ask is why Campanelli’s need to direct a story he previously knew nothing about is prioritized over the ambition of numerous Indigenous filmmakers who have been waiting for the opportunity to tell their stories.

Indigenous audiences at screenings across the country have expressed how much the film has touched them. There are others who, like me, were left a bit horrified. We are talking about a film reckoning with colonialism that has been adapted entirely by white key creatives (the main producers, director and writer), a set-up we could argue is narrative colonialism.

“It felt like extractive filmmaking at its finest,” says filmmaker Elle-Máijá Tailfeathers, a member of the Kainai First Nation and Sámi from Norway. “I felt like I was watching a spectacle of Indigenous trauma,” says Tailfeathers. “It was very apparent that there were no Indigenous key creatives. There’s an outsider/insider perspective. As outsiders, they are inevitably going to tell the story wrong because they don’t get it. They haven’t lived it. They don’t understand it from the perspective of lived experience. And it’s reflected so clearly onscreen. It’s yet another film about Indigenous people by non-Indigenous people for non-Indigenous people. It was made for settler audiences to have this emotional catharsis and walk away and feel like they did something.”

“It’s being paraded as an Indigenous film. But it’s not. It’s taking up space. And that’s what settlers do. It’s about them taking up space. It’s about them choosing which stories have value. It’s about them choosing whose voices should be heard.”

The persistent challenge for Indigenous filmmakers is that no matter how much talent they show in their short films and micro features, it barely translates to bigger opportunities at making features. Instead they often find themselves working on projects for settler storytellers, populating consulting roles on features or acting as the sole First Nations representative in the writers’ room on a television series. It’s tokenism easing the way for narrative colonialism.

“Tokenism comes from this inherent understanding that [the settler storytellers] are not really coming from a place of truth,” says Tailfeathers. “They haven’t properly collaborated. They haven’t properly worked with the community whose story they’re extracting. We’re an afterthought. And that’s very apparent in their process."

That process also often trumpets good intentions and well-meaning decisions.

“There’s been a long history of good intentions,” says Jesse Wente of the newly formed Indigenous Screen Office. “Remember, the residential schools were well intentioned in theory. There are many instances where you have non-Indigenous storytellers who are very well intentioned. But the reality is that when it comes to movies made about First Nations people, roughly 99.9 percent of them have been made by non-Indigenous peoples. That sort of overwhelming history suggests that maybe those good intentions are getting in the way of better results. Even if you come with the best of intentions, at what point will it be okay with the over-culture that Indigenous people get to tell their own stories? We are long overdue.”

📄 Indian Horse and the limits of allyship in adaptation 

While the filmmakers get that the content of the story isn’t theirs to tell, the way the story is told on screen significantly alters the tone. Wagamese’s novel immerses the reader in Saul’s personal subjectivity, an essential component of indigenous knowledge and storytelling. The novel is framed as Saul writing his story down to share only with a counsellor he trusts. By extension, this forms a personal relationship with the reader as someone to be trusted. Saul writes his narrative relationally, with brief asides about culture and memory to contextualize his story.

In attempting to faithfully adapt the novel’s plot, the filmmakers abandon one of Indian Horse’s most affecting aspects, its storytelling methods. While readers serve as Saul’s trusted audience, film viewers are independent observers of Saul and his surroundings. The film even gives viewers access to scenes where Saul was not present, such as school staff meetings and incidents of abuse. Had the filmmaking team involved indigenous members, they could have been in a better position to find a creative solution to adaptation that actually reflects an indigenous storytelling perspective. Instead, the result is a film that brings a vital story to a potentially wider audience, but feels like a story told second-hand.

⏪ Our previous post on Rethinking Canada through Indigenous hockey

⏪ Our previous post on Understanding the images of sports at Canadian Residential School 

#change hockey culture #film #indigenous hockey

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 73 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Courtney committed a fireable offense when she lost Miss Fame’s sketches.

This Chapter: Bianca rides in on a white horse, and Violet says yes to cake.

***

BIANCA: I need Courtney’s address

ADORE: Why

BIANCA: Because she seems upset and she’s not answering and I’m worried

ADORE: What did you do?

BIANCA: NOTHING

BIANCA: I don’t think

BIANCA: Something probably happened at work

BIANCA: ADORE. SEND THE ADDRESS FOR FUCK’S SAKE

BIANCA: I WILL CUT YOU OFF BITCH

BIANCA: Adore, please.

ADORE: Fine! But if she’s mad, that’s on you

BIANCA: ACCEPTED

ADORE: Just to warn you, it’s a real shithole

BIANCA: Alright, alright, just please send the address

*

Even though Bianca felt like a little bit of a stalker just showing up at her place like this, she didn’t know what else she was supposed to do. Courtney had cancelled with those few cryptic messages and then gone radio silent. Bianca knew her well enough by now to be certain that something had gone wrong, since just hours earlier, she was sending sweet messages about how much she couldn’t wait for them to be together.

She tried calling her a few more times from the car, but there was no answer. Finally, standing in front of the crumbling brownstone, she had to come clean.

BIANCA: Look, I’m sorry for taking drastic measures, but I was really worried…

BIANCA: I’m outside your building

Seconds later, her phone rang. She answered, heart filling with relief. “Hi baby-”

“What are you doing here?”

Her voice sounded broken and raw, and it was immediately clear that she’d been crying. Bianca could feel her heart in her throat, head suddenly racing with all the possibilities of things she may actually have done wrong. Had she really fucked this up so quickly?

“I was worried about you, so I thought…” Bianca bit her lip, afraid to even ask if she was the one who had upset Courtney like this. “Are you gonna let me inside?”

There was a pause, a few beats, the sound of sniffling.

“I just...I kind of don’t want you to...see it.” She sounded choked up again, voice small and soft.

“Angel…” Bianca couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief. It didn’t sound like she was angry, at least not with Bianca--just ashamed of where she lived, which Bianca could understand. “Do you think I’ve always lived in a penthouse?”

“No,” Courtney admitted after a pause.

“No,” Bianca repeated. “Not by a longshot. Please let me in, I need to see you. I just want to talk.”

A few minutes later, Courtney appeared, opening the door from the basement level. Bianca raced down the narrow steps and swept her into a hug, trying not to fret too much about the way she hung limply in her arms.

She followed her inside, and while she’d been prepared for something small and substandard, based on everything she’d heard so far, this was far worse than her fears. A tiny basement unit, dank and dark with exposed pipes and what looked like the world’s oldest sofa bed. It was also clearly an illegal sublet with no kitchen--only a metal, industrial sink with an electric kettle and micro-fridge below.

Besides the bed, there was little furniture. Her closet appeared to be two wardrobe boxes, and a few other boxes were stacked next to the bed to create a makeshift side table. Bianca took it all in, wondering exactly how she ended up in such a dismal place.

But now was not the time to ask about that, not when Courtney looked so utterly miserable. Even in the dim lighting, Bianca could see that her eyes were red and swollen. She followed her to the sofa bed, sitting down gingerly beside her (and holy shit was that thing uncomfortable) and taking one of her hands into her lap.

“Tell me why you’re so upset, angel, please.”

Courtney took a shaky breath, fresh tears filling her eyes. “I did something...really terrible today.”

“Did you kill someone? Do you need me to get a shovel?” Bianca asked, and she was rewarded with a hint of a smile as Courtney shook her head.

“No, but…” Every trace of smile disappeared from her face as she said, “I bet Miss Fame is gonna think this is worse.”

“What happened?”

“I accidentally left an envelope with a bunch of her sketches in a cab.” A tear rolled down her reddened cheek.

Bianca’s eyes went wide, understanding why Courtney was so distraught. Fame rarely sketched anymore, but when she did, she was as attached to the original work as if it was a piece of her own body. She immediately went into problem-solving mode, trying to think of things to mitigate the damage.

“Have you tried calling the cab company-”

“I don’t know which cab company it was, I didn’t get a receipt and I can’t remember no matter how hard I try,” Courtney cried. “But I did call, I must have called a hundred different companies, but...I think they might be gone.”

“Okay-”

“It’s not okay! Her sketches, her original sketches! How could I have done that, I’m so dumb, I’m so bad at that stupid job!” More tears poured down her cheeks, sobs heaving her chest.

“Hey, come here…” Bianca pulled her in, hushing her softly, a hand rubbing circles into her back. “I know, I get what a big deal it is, but it sounds like you did everything you could. And I promise you, it’ll be okay-”

“How?! How will it be okay?! I’m gonna get fired!” Courtney exclaimed, and Bianca had to bite her tongue, the word ‘so?’ nearly slipping from her lips.

“Okay, well...let’s say you do get fired,” Bianca said slowly. “I don’t think you will, but if you do...would that be so bad? It’s clearly not your dream job.”

“But I need it. I can’t get my new work visa without it. It’s been months and I still don’t have the answer and-”

“You don’t have a work visa?”

“Not after March. I have an attorney who’s working on it, but he keeps running into problems and he’s already charged me so much and I don’t know-”

“Hold up. Galactica hired you, but they’re not handling your immigration issues?” Bianca asked.

“Well...Violet told me not to tell Miss Fame, so I...I was afraid to bring it up with HR. But I got the number of an immigration lawyer from Miss Fame’s contacts, and...it’s all just so expensive. He keeps asking for more money, and I can’t-”

“Wait a second.”

Bianca was no immigration expert, but she knew two things: 1, getting a work visa for an entry level administrative job was nearly impossible and 2, it was actually impossible without the full support of a sponsor company.

“Whoever that lawyer is, they’re a total fraud. Don’t give them any more money, okay?”

“Oh god.” Courtney moaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “Why can’t I do anything right?!”

“This isn’t your fault,” Bianca assured her. “You trusted a professional and they took advantage of you. They could be disbarred for that. And as for the sketches...stop beating yourself up. Yes, she’s going to be angry, and upset, but things happen. People make mistakes. I’ve made plenty, believe me.”

“Like this?” Courtney asked, eyes skeptical.

“I once dropped my boss’s wife’s passport off a subway platform.”

“Did you get fired?” Courtney asked.

“No. But I did get yelled at for a solid hour. Maybe two. It wasn’t a good day. But...I got through it. And you’ll get through this.”

“Maybe. But I just know I’m gonna fuck up again. Everything is...I don’t think it should still be this hard, not after 4 months. Miss Fame even said that, earlier today. I’m not new anymore, I should know better. I should be better. What’s wrong with me?!”

At first, Bianca said nothing, simply wrapping her in an embrace. She knew that Courtney was finding the job stressful--anyone in their right mind would find that job stressful. But the fact that it was this bad...Bianca felt guilty for not noticing sooner. She rocked Courtney slowly, letting her fall apart in her arms, whispering comfort into her ear.

After a while, when she sensed that Courtney was cried out, sobs slowing down and some of the tension finally melting away, Bianca pulled back and took her by the shoulders. She paused, considering for a minute if she really wanted to get involved before saying, “Maybe this isn’t the right job for you.”

“Well, I don't have another offer, so...oh, god, what am I gonna do? Is the visa thing really bad? Am I gonna get deported?”

“No,” Bianca said with a smile, shaking her head decisively. “I’ll take care of your visa. Don’t worry about it.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet, but there are options. I promise, okay?” Bianca kissed her cheek softly, up near her ear, lips lingering on her tear-stained skin. “I’ve gotten pretty attached to you, so you leaving the country would be a huge bummer.”

Courtney finally seemed to relax, letting out a small chuckle, resting her head on Bianca’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to leave you either. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, angel.” Bianca squeezed her hand tighter, lacing their fingers together. “Does that mean you want to come home with me?”

Courtney nodded slowly, squeezing Bianca’s hand back. “Yes please.”

“Good.” Bianca tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “And, um...okay so, remember when you said that Christmas music makes you want to go to the beach?”

“Yeah…” Courtney tilted her head, puzzled.

“Well I may have booked us a little...getaway. Just for a few days. So you can have some sun and relax and get away from this dreary weather.”

“Where?” Courtney asked, eyes wide.

“Puerto Rico. It’s not that long of a flight, so-”

“But I thought you had to stay and work!”

“I can work from there.” Bianca flashed her a charming smile, adding, “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you did. I’m…” Courtney took a deep breath, clearly overwhelmed, and then glanced over to where a beaten-up duffel bag lay on the floor. “I guess I need to pack some other clothes, although I’m not sure I have the right stuff here...”

“There are stores in San Juan.”

Courtney laughed, shaking her head and wiping her eyes. “I’m never gonna get used to the way you live.”

“You will. And that’s a promise,” Bianca said. “So will you come with me? Our flight leaves tomorrow at 2.”

“Yeah, of course! I just need like 20 minutes or so to pack.” Courtney’s mood already seemed to brighten as she began pulling boxes out of a stack against the brick wall.

“Of course, take your time. Mind if I use your bathroom?”

“Oh. Uh...yeah, sure. It’s uh...out that door and down the hall, on the right. I share with Fred, but I think he’s at work right now, so-”

“Who’s Fred?”

“Um-”

“You know what, I can hold it,” Bianca assured her, crossing her legs.

“I’ll be fast, I promise,” Courtney said, pulling a pair of sandals out of the box and tossing them to the floor. “And B...thank you.”

“For what, sunshine?”

“Everything.”

***

“I’ll get to the dishes in a minute, mom!” Gigi closed the door behind her, looking around her bedroom in an attempt to remember where she had put her earpods. She crouched down, digging through her backpack. Symone had made her a playlist of music she had to listen to over the holidays, and if she was gonna be put on Cinderella duty, she might as well make it productive.

It felt strange to be home; the smells, sights and sounds were all exactly the same, while she couldn’t help but feel different, like she had grown up in the weeks she was away.

Some of her friends had reached out when they had seen on Instagram that she had returned to L.A, but she hadn’t responded yet. She was an adult now, with a real job, not a college kid that could mess around and do all the things she used to, hanging out in the skate park suddenly so lame and childish compared to all the things she was doing in New York.

She had spent the day in her mom’s studio, watching her work like she had done so many times before, her mom excitedly asking about what clothes she should make her, and showing her all of the sketches she had done while Gigi was away based on the pictures she had sent.

Gigi couldn’t wait to wear her mom's creations, the outfits more chic than anything she had seen in the multiple designer stores she had now been in. Sutan’s words that her style was her edge ones she had really taken to heart.

“There!” Gigi exclaimed triumphantly, pulling her earpods out of her backpack. She grabbed her phone, and was just about to get to the kitchen to do the dishes, when she saw that she had gotten a message from Symone, a massive grin spreading on her face as she slid back down to the floor, leaning against her bed to respond, her chores completely forgotten.

***

JINKX: Hey honey. Just want to make sure you made it home from the airport okay.

JINKX: I read it was snowing a ton.

JINKX: Plus you know, I haven’t heard from you in almost 4 hours so I miss you like crazy.

JINKX: ;-P

ALASKA: Haha, I’m fine. At a bar right now catching up with the bro.

JINKX: Tell him hi for me

JINKX: xoxo

ALASKA: <3

***

It was Christmas Eve Day, barely past dawn, but Courtney was already awake. She’d slipped from the bed as quietly as possible so as not to wake Bianca, padding over to the big picture window to watch the golden sunlight reflecting off the buildings, admire the light dusting of snow on the trees in the park. She wasn’t used to thinking of New York as pretty, but from up here, it really was.

“Hey...good morning…” Bianca said, her voice rough with sleep, just the way Courtney loved most.

“Good morning.” She turned around, giving her a slightly apologetic smile. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Nahh...I guess my body just doesn’t want to sleep without you.”

“I love it when you’re cheesy,” Courtney giggled.

“Oh yeah? Plenty more where that came from. What are you doing all the way over there?”

“Just...checking out the view. It’s pretty amazing.” Courtney turned and headed back to the bed, suddenly missing Bianca’s warmth beside her.

“The view over here isn’t half bad either,” Bianca told her with a wink.

Courtney giggled some more, crawling toward her across the mattress. “Happy Christmas Eve…”

Their lips met in a sweet and tender kiss, Bianca’s hands cradling her face.

“Speaking of which...how do you feel about opening one of your presents now?”

“Really? Already?” Courtney asked, eyes lighting up.

“Well, it’s kind of useful, so I think it makes sense.” Bianca got up out of the bed, pulling a huge box wrapped in silver from her closet.

Courtney sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing slightly as she ripped open the paper to reveal a gorgeous pink Fendi suitcase, covered in what had to be custom crystals. Her mouth fell open.

“I figured you could use it for our trip. You know. I’m all about practical gifts.”

Courtney couldn’t help laughing. The suitcase was anything but practical...but it was perfect, like it was designed from Courtney’s wildest daydreams.

“I don’t know if I have enough to fill this,” Courtney said, running her fingers over it, watching the way the stones glittered in the light.

“Well...that’s cool, I could use the extra space myself.”

Courtney raised her eyebrows. She’d seen Bianca’s packed suitcases, two giant Louis Vuittons and a large, matching carry-on, nearly ready to go.

“You need more space? We’re going for a week...what are you even taking?!”

“More presents,” Bianca said, dimples deepening.

“Oh my god…”

***

Violet chewed on her lip; sorting through Google images really not where she excelled. She was looking for pictures of Raja at the Met Ball, slowly combing through what she could find since her emails to Max and Pearl had gone unanswered. It was annoying, but expected. Pearl never missed out on the chance of ignoring her emails, and Max was british so he completely ignored both phone and computer the minute he left the office, so she was on her own.

“Violet?”

Violet looked up from her station at the living room table to see Sutan head peek in through the kitchen door, his phone against his shoulder, the glasses in his hair betraying that he had been working  as well even though it was Christmas Eve. “My mom’s asking if you like klappertaart?”

“... Excuse me what?” Klappertaart? Violet had no idea what that was. It wasn’t unusual for either Raja or Sutan to get a bit confused when they bounced between Indonesian and English, their sentences sometimes mixed up, but that didn’t sound Indonesian at all. “Is that German?”

“Dutch, actually,” Sutan smiled. “Remind me to educate you on the thrilling saga of Indonesia's colonial history some day.”

“Ah,” Violet felt a brief stab of shame, that information seeming like something she should have known, though she had barely even been aware that Indonesia existed before she had met her boyfriend.

“So?” Sutan walked fully into the room, leaning against the doorframe, his black pants tight in the waist, and Violet couldn’t help but admire him for a second. “Klappertaart?”

“I still don’t know what it is.”

“Oh fuck, right” Sutan’s eyes widened, and Violet laughed as she heard a noise from the phone, Murni clearly picking up on her son’s swearing, Sutan quickly putting the phone against his ear.

“Ya Bunda, ya ya, maaf,” Sutan grinned, walking over to the table before putting the phone down so he could continue talking.

“Klappertaart is… It’s a cake, that’s…” Sutan paused, clearly looking for his words. “There’s coconut and… Know what, excuse me.” Sutan held the phone up again, Indonesian falling from his lips as he talked to his mom and Violet had to hide a smile, Sutan clearly never considering what was in this mysterious klappertaart.

“There,” Sutan pulled away, “It’s a coconut cake with almonds and raisins, and we usually have it for Christmas.”

“Huh,” Violet ran over the ingredients in her head. It was incredibly nice of Sutan’s mom to ask if she liked the menu, and there weren’t any of the ingredients that she hated, though warm raisins were disgusting, but she was pretty sure she could get away with picking them off, so there was no reason to create a scene. “That sounds lovely.”

“Great,” Sutan smiled, bending down to give her a quick kiss before he returned to his phone call.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #bitney #jalaska #vitan #bianca del rio #adore delano #courtney act #gigi goode #jinkx monsoon #alaska thunderfuck #violet chachki #raja gemini #lesbian au #m/f au #fashion au

[rendezvousrenjun]

party 4-2 | l.jeno

↬  due to unfortunate circumstances, you and jeno have to pretend to date at a party, the only problem is that both of you have suppressed feelings for one another and can’t seem to admit it. 

fluff + angst | 5.5k words | beware! cussing, suggestive themes, mentions of cheating and drinking :(

(a/n: happy jeno day! this was originally a request with : fake dating + #5,6,&12, but i got quite carried away! Italic dialogue indicates flashback. hope you enjoy <3)

Jeno’s grip around the leather steering wheel tightened like the knot that built at the pit of his stomach. On his wrist was a watch that seemed to tick too slow, or too fast-- he really didn’t know. He did know that he was parked in front of your apartment complex. And before he was parked in front of your home, he had cleaned up the front seats so that there was enough space for you to move your feet around or place your bag down. He wasn’t necessarily messy, but in front of you he was always a klutz. 

He shifts around, checking his car mirrors and pressing the light on and off, pretending he was Batman sending a signal, before taking a deep breath. 

“I’m glad we were both hired, huh Jeno?” You had been sitting at the metal break room table, already dressed in your denim apron and matching hat. Tapping your foot excitedly, eyebrows raised at him as he got ready himself for your first shift together. He was tying up the loose ends of his apron behind him, smiling at you softly. “Turn around.” You got up to help him, impatiently excited to work at your new job as a barista. 

You gingerly took the denim around his waist, making sure you were gentle as you tied it in a secure knot. 

He vividly recollects how he had to look away from you, scared of his flushed ears making an appearance. It was a small gesture, but despite being friends with you for so long, every little thing you did made him fall for you even more. 

That was your first job. The both of you experienced it together.  And now Jeno and you were going to attend your first college party together too. 

Seeing your shadow peeking around the corner he was aware of your presence. It retreats in hesitation in and out of view, until it makes a clear decision to approach him. He counts in his head the number of steps you take until you’ve arrived in front of him. On the outside he’s composed, calm, refined but on the inside-- well. Don’t worry about it. 

“Yes??”

At the time, he was studying (more of using his phone to play a game) at the student library, which you knew you could find him at. He knew that you could find him here too. 

You swivel a seat from the side, dragging it to place it beside him. He closes the book he mindlessly pretended to be reading slowly, as if to absorb whatever context it may have had. 

“So Mark invited me to this party…” you start, mind zoning out slightly when Jeno’s gaze meets yours and you take notice of the eyelash under his glasses’ lens, “wait you have an eyelash.”

He closes his eyes and let's you sweep it off his cheek before continuing, “so Mark’s party… what about it?”

“Well,” the warmth of your fingertip leaves his face and he has to pretend like his heart isn't irregularly beating because of you, “you know I haven't been to like an actual, you know, party and I always hear crazy stories about getting your drink spiked and whatnot and I don't know if I wanna go alone, you catch my drift?”

“Mmm I kind of catch your drift, but also-- so you don't want to go to Mark's party anymore?”

“Not necessarily! I do want to go, it's just I don't want to go alone. I think it would be safer to go with someone.”

“Why don't you ask Ryujin to go with you? Then you guys could even get ready together, isn't that fun?” 

“That does sound fun… but..” 

“But what?”

You press your lips together, “I think I would feel safer going with you, I don't know.”

“All you had to do was ask directly bro.” He rolls his eyes at you jokingly, putting his stuff back into his backpack.

He knew you must've been excited. It was Mark who had asked you after all. And Mark Lee’s place was the designated party house known on campuses that weren’t even yours. 

So why was he anxious now? It’s just a party. A party where you two go together. It's not like you two were dating. 

He presses a button to turn the radio on, trying to zone out instead. 

The knock on his passenger seat window brings him out of his internal monologue. He unlocks the door. When you enter, so does the intoxicating smell of your perfume. 

“Jeno!!” you climb into the seat next to him, double checking if the door is locked. 

He lowers the volume a bit and turns the keys, moving his head to look at you. His heart twinges a bit at the sight of you. He wants to tell you you’re gorgeous, but he swallows his words before they could surpass his lips. 

“y/n!!” he says instead, “are you excited!?” To which you respond back by shaking your head vigorously. “Okay, let’s have fun.”

He starts up the car and glances at you again. “Wait y/n seat-belt.”

“Oh yea,” you pull on the strap a bit recklessly which causes it to jam, “just a second” you retract it back and try to pull it again but it stops, “this seat-belt is playing with me let me try it this again--” Jeno sighs and unbuckles his own. You look over to him as he reaches over your shoulder, causing your head to look up at an angle so he could fix it for you. The close proximity makes your stomach uneasy and you could feel the tips of his strands of hair light brush over your neck. When you hear the click, you face Jeno again, a smile creeping up your face out of nerves. He smiles back at you before finding his place back to the steering wheel. 

Funnily enough he’s less nervous now that you are actually with him, comfortable to be in your company. The night sky was a clear blue-black, like a large obsidian stone glazed over your heads. There was a thrill that came with being in Jeno’s roughed up car, memories upon memories laying in here. You roll the window down a bit to catch the light evening breeze, closing your eyes to feel it against your skin. 

“What if I do this move on the dance floor?” you open your eyes and start shaking your head vigorously, not matching with the rhythm of the song playing, your hands make micro-movements as if you were doing the robot, “don’t you think I’ll charm everyone there?” 

Jeno glances at you quick, his eyebrow perched a little higher in expectancy to see something graceful but instead he bursts out laughing, choking a bit at the sight of you, “you’re going to get us into an accident with those possessed moves I-” he continues to laugh, his chest heaving up and down as he tries to concentrate on the road, “that’s something Donghyuck would do.”

“You’re right my neck is getting sore,” you wrap your hand around it, “oh talking about Donghyuck, did you hear his story about that time he jumped off the roof at one of Mark’s parties?”

“No way Donghyuck doesn’t have the balls to do that-”

“Hey it was a Mark party, anything can happen. But I doubt it’s true.”

“Yea…” Jeno makes a right turn, “his bones would’ve been broken the next day in class, a little suspicious that he came in fine in my opinion. But then again, didn’t Hendery break Mark’s light fixture in the living room? Mark posted it on his story that one time remember?”

“That’s so wild dude… I hope nothing bad happens.”

“Same, I’m getting drained just thinking about it.” 

“But you know what? This is good! We should just experience a party like this at least once in our prime time aye Jeno?” You nudge him lightly on his thigh earning a “mmm” back.

Jeno changes the music station, forgetting he has an aux cord. Mark’s house in the hills is still miles away, numerous drugstores and fast food restaurants passing your car swiftly.

“Wait Jeno can I put this emergency sandwich in your car compartment?” The two of you are nearing a red light.

“Your what now?” he glances at you during the stop to find you  already opening it up, “oh gosh please dont forget it like the emergency cookies or the emergency juice box.” 

You shut the compartment, squishing down the bread so it fit. “But you still ate them didn’t you!? Like after five months when you were starving for a snack so they did have a purpose in the end!” 

You turn your head back to him and the bright light turns green, placing an ethereal glow upon you. He subconsciously begins to smile. 

“Okay you have a point, you have a point.”

You two are able to hear the house before you can even see it. You honestly believed parties like the ones Mark Lee hosts only existed in the movies. But they seem to also exist in the two-story rented house he and his roommate Yuta often rented for occasions like these. You always wondered how he learned such a skill, but that’s a secret he’ll never tell. 

As Jeno rolls up the hill’s parking lot, steering with the both of his palms in order to parallel park between the abundance of cars and others attending, the villa’s full picture comes into view. The house is decorated with out-of-style Christmas lights and is painted an awful bright green color, the grass on the front lawn artificial with fake red and purple plants poking out wherever people didn’t step. Such a huge estate turned into a fun house could only be the doing of its occupants and host. 

Once parked, Jeno clambers outside to open the door for you. “Do you need me to help you with your seatbelt again?”

“Damn Jeno, what a fine gentleman like you are, they don’t make em like you anymore.” you joke with him, laughing at his unamused face. He slams the car door back on you, the sound of you laughing muffling out as he starts walking to the entrance slowly.

“Hey!” he smiles to himself hearing your shoes clank with the cement to catch up to him. He turns his head to look back and your hand runs through his hair aggressively, messing up the overall shape molded from the gel. He sticks his tongue at you and enlarges his nostrils in false annoyance, not bothering to fix himself up anymore. 

The huge wooden doors are already wide open, red solo cups littered amongst the sides of it and a welcome mat that says “kool kids only” beneath your feet. You guys walk in and already there's a certain mood established within the vicinity. As if the world around you has been thrown into a slow motion montage of every party scene in coming-of-age movies. The light fixture has since been replaced to a disco ball, the walls splattering with neon lights which your eyes had to adjust to after a while. Jeno pats your arm and points out the huge stereo system against the broken window that allowed some air to be pushed in amongst all the sweaty bodies. People were already resting their arms against the staircase railings, despite it only being nine o’clock. The glitter and extravagance of it all was fresh and unlike any other party you have attended.

You make sure not to lose sight of Jeno as you guys move closer to the crowd. “Where do you think Mark is?” 

“Probably in the bathroom!” the music and people talking start to drown out your voices. Jeno starts to push through the crowd in order to get to the kitchen or dining room, struggling to not get stuck in between. You use your elbows as a way to distance yourself from people who are getting too close to your liking, but before you know it Jeno is no longer in arm’s reach. 

“Jeno!” you shimmy through the bodies making you a bit uncomfortable with how many people have already touched you while passing. He turns back to wait for you and when you finally make your way beside him he lightly lays his hand on your waist.

“Hey be careful where you’re going.” He doesn’t let go of you until you’ve cleared through the main hall. 

There’s an entire spread of food on the counters. How does anyone afford this much food? The takeout trays are layed out with serving spoons and paper plates have been carelessly placed in one corner, whereas the actual utensils are in the other. If there was one thing Jeno and you have heard about Mark’s parties aside from the crazy shit that goes down, it would be the food. 

Seeing it finally in front of you, the both of you let out a small gasp in sync. Huge smiles making their way to your lips. Jeno is already grabbing you two plates.

“Did you bring the ziplocs?” he hands you your plate while you two make your way to the first tray.

“It’s like you read my mind.” You reveal the ziploc bags in your handbag with a grin of confirmation. He holds them open for you as you begin to pour in the dry snacks first. “We’re like partners in crime right now.”

He wishes you were partners in general. 

“Well, well, well looks like you two are ripping me off! I caught you red handed!” Mark grabs a chip from the tray, cutting in between you and Jeno. “The look on your faces is priceless! Like you’ve been caught red-handed!” Mark starts going into a giggling frenzy indicating he’s a little tipsy. That and the smell off his clothes. “Aren’t my parties the best??” He points over to the bowl in the center, “have you tried the punch? Wait a second--”

His facial expression changes, scanning you both up and down as if he was playing a game of spot the difference. He points at the both of you repeatedly as the two of you stand there dumbfounded at what connection he made. 

“You” he points at Jeno, “and you” he points at you squinting his eyes hard, “why didn’t you tell me you guys are dating?”

Now he’s done it. Mark released the bomb that you and Jeno have not been able to discuss. The two of you flare up in red, ready to argue and instantly defend that that’s not what’s going on. Well, you were ready. Until both you and Jeno see your ex heading over your direction.

Jung Wooyoung.

Jeno will forever remember your ex boyfriend. The three of you had been good friends before you got together. He introduced you two, unknowing of what was going to happen amongst you guys. It was on a Monday night, where the coffee shop wasn’t as busy and that night both of your shifts had matched up. 

Wooyoung had pushed open the glass door instead of pulling it, yelling “Jeno!! That door was playing with my feelings!!” as soon as he entered. But Jeno wasn’t at the cash register. It was you. 

Wooyoung had heard about you of course. You were the cute girl who Jeno always talked about. He had seen your pictures with him on Instagram, but he didn’t know you were this beautiful in real life. 

“I’m gonna ask y/n out.” He had told Jeno after a couple weeks of the three of you hanging out more frequently. “It’s not like you like her right? You only told me you thought she was cute.”

Jeno didn’t know how to respond at that time. He didn’t want to ruin anything for the two of you. But he was sure Wooyoung already knew how he felt. How he has felt for you for a long time. 

“You don’t need to tell me, she’s her own person. She can make whatever decision she wants.”

Jeno remembered Wooyoung asking you out in front of everyone in that damn cafe. He remembered how bashful you got and how you had to cover your face in embarrassment. He tried getting over you then. No matter how much you two tried to include him when hanging out it always ended with him going home first. 

But then the fights came. He didn’t know if it was because you weren’t what Wooyoung totally pictured in his head, or if the two of you just weren’t as compatible as you thought. 

Safe to say, the break up was not pretty. 

You were late to your shift that day. Jeno had checked his watch a couple times within the hour. When you finally entered, you came in silence, not sparing him a glance, eyes glued to the floor all the way to the back. 

And he remembers. He remembers keeping an eye on how you were doing. You were desperately trying to tie your apron around your waist, but he could hear you sniffing despite your back facing him. He went back to making drinks, usually minding his own business when it came to your personal problems within your relationship with Wooyoung. But while making a drink he heard you crash to the floor and immediately checked the back to see you sobbing on the floor. Your apron never got tied. Your knees seemed as if they were being hammered down bit by bit, your body collapsing within itself. Your sobbing made his own heart breaking into pieces at the sight of yours being torn apart. 

He places his arms around your back, embracing you in a way where he didn’t see your face. He crouches so that he resembles a blanket wrapped around you. “What happened?” His voice is scared to speak. 

“Wooyoung” your voice is jagged and choked up, “h-he was in bed.” the more you wail, the more Jeno squeezes your back, the rhythm of his heartbeat pressed against you to calm you down. “With someone else--” 

Jeno couldn’t believe it. Wooyoung couldn’t do that. He refused to believe his good friend could ever cheat. How shitty, vile, disgusting. He can’t believe it. Not his Wooyoung.

Jeno doesn’t know that Wooyoung chased after you and saw you two on the floor. He observed the two of you holding each other. He snickered to himself, unbelieving. The answer was always in front of him all along. He left without a word or appearance. 

It hadn’t registered within your head that Wooyoung was within ten feet of you two again. 

“Well?” Mark’s voice raises in excitement, eyeing the two of you. You eye Jeno, searching his face for some sort of response, not knowing what to do in this moment. You’re stuck. 

Jeno finally looks down at your face, frozen and afraid of confrontation. Wooyoung is getting closer to the three of you. Fuck it. Jeno wraps his arm around your shoulder, causing you to defrost under his touch. “Sorry we didn’t tell you Mark.” Jeno smiles at him stiffly, then you wrap your arm around his waist. 

“Yes.” You say in strong confirmation. Wooyoung is now in ear-shot. “Jeno and I are together.” The word “together” falls out of your mouth effortlessly and proud. Wooyoung stops walking towards you guys. He stands around the corner diagonal to you and pretends to be absorbed in the punch Mark was talking about earlier. 

“Wow! Finally! I knew you guys were going to end up together eventually, I was hoping Jeno would eventually let you know how he feels.” Mark pats Jeno’s shoulder, the expression like a proud father, “well Ima go, see you lovebirds around.”

Jeno starts to free you from his tender grip, but you keep his waist glued to you. He gets the message and moves in front of you and grabs the counter behind you so that Wooyoung is unable to see you from his back. Under his gaze the blush runs from your face to places unseen. After saying something as bold as that things are never going to be the same. After hearing what Mark said, every moment has become unrelentingly uneasy, but in a flustering, butterfly-inducing type of way. You stammer as you bring yourself close to Jeno’s ear, holding the nape of his neck to whisper, “thank you Jeno.”

His hot breath runs chills down your shoulders, “of course.”

“Is it okay if we pretend we’re together for the rest of the night? Play it safe?” 

Jeno takes a deep breath, you can tell he’s reluctant at first, before he breathes out in what resembles a soft sigh, “deal. Just make sure you remember to take back your emergency sandwich by tonight.”

Your laughter flourishes up into Jeno’s ear, your head moving back to your prior position. You lightly push his shoulder that doesn’t budge as he continues to adore you and silently laugh with you. 

Wooyoung walks away from the scene. 

You end up pushing Jeno’s shoulders so that he could lead the way. The two of you navigate a couch lodged in a corner in one of the living spaces upstairs. It was less chaotic than downstairs, but the couch still had oddly suspicious stains all over it, and people were still getting wasted. You plop him down onto the couch first, holding his shoulders, until he takes ahold of your forearm to take you down with him. 

Hours are spent talking about anything and everything, your head finding its way on Jeno’s shoulder as he takes out his phone to show you a game he started to play recently. When you talked, the bottom of your jaw tickled but he didn’t ask you to remove it. You press your nose into his shirt, your voice muffled, “do you smell that?”

“Smell what? The alcohol?”

“Yea, everyone is getting wasted, the smell is really pungent.” 

“Do you want to drink? I’m going to be driving so you can if you want.”

“I want to, but you know I shouldn’t, and you shouldn’t be letting me because remember last time I tried to and then..gosh.”

“Ohhh yea the banana--” you clamp his mouth shut with your palm and raise your hand to look at him seriously.

“That’s enough of that Lee Jeno.” 

He playfully protrudes his lips out so that he kisses the inside of your palm, making you retract it in surprise. He just laughs at you trying to wipe it off on his pants instead of your own. You look at him, an expression that is supposed to show how annoyed you are supposedly being there (spoiler: you just looked funny to him). 

After catching his breath from laughing at you he slips, “Man, I didn’t drink but why do I feel so drunk on you?” 

Realizing what he had said, suddenly both of you are silent, awkwardly glancing around the room fighting off the feelings that have been slowly seeping out bit by bit throughout the night. 

“Maybe I do need a drink” you mutter under your breath, fanning yourself. He takes the hand that you’re using to fan yourself, your palms now sweaty from the skin contact. 

“y/n, do you want to dance with me?”

And on that note, the two of you clumsily made your way downstairs. 

Jeno thought he would always be the second lead in your life. The one who never gets the girl no matter how much he likes her. But the thing was, he was fine with being your friend. He thought he could probably go his whole life without needing to be with you romantically because he cared more about you as a person in general. Whatever made you happy made him happy. But what if he made you happy? What would he do then?

Now that the two of you were busting it down on the dance floor, gracefully or not, he realized that tonight this was just a party for the two of you. A party for two. You take his hand and twirl him around in circles and he starts swaying his hips to the beat.

“Dammmnnnnn” you start hyping him up, “get intoooo itttt!” 

He’s so embarrassed but he’s enjoying himself, the humidity making you guys sweat and hair stick up in weird places. The two of you dance hip to hip, up grooving side to side with one another until you’re molded into one. 

He ends up holding you close to him, taking you by surprise. You giggle, not knowing what he was doing but his voice is low, “he’s coming.”

Your body stops moving. Reliving the devastation you had once felt without any closure. Jeno keeps you faced the opposite direction, safe in his arms. But you had enough. You were sick of hiding. It was time to get into control. You softly break away from Jeno and turn around to face Wooyoung for yourself.

He’s the same. 

“y/n. Jeno. what a surprise, you guys know Mark too?”

“Yea we do.” Jeno smiles at him, but you could tell it wasn’t sincere.

“How long has it been since we were all in the same room, huh?” Wooyoung keeps looking at the two of you. It made you mad for some reason. As if he was piercing remarks and judgements through his eyes. 

“I don’t really want to talk to you Wooyoung.” Wow. You haven’t said that name in so long.

“Ohhh I see what’s going on here” he gets closer to Jeno, the music starts swelling and the air has become unbelievably stuffy, “how’s my old friend Jeno?” he puts a hand on his shoulder and Jeno shrugs it off.

Wooyoung smirks to the side, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He looks Jeno dead in the eyes glaring at him, “I fucking knew it. How you two were just gonna start seeing each other after I leave the picture, took a year or two but you did it Jeno,” he scoffs, “I knew something was up with you two since the beginning, I shouldn't have even asked. Look where the fuck you guys are now.” 

Jeno holds your hand to gently guide you behind him as Wooyoung inches closer to both of your faces. Wooyoung snickers again. 

“What are you?” he asks Jeno, his eyebrows knitted and face uncomfortably close to him. He pushes Jeno’s shoulder, “what are you?” he pushes Jeno’s shoulder with more force. Jeno does not budge, you squeeze his palm to remind him to stay calm. By now a crowd has formed at the sound of Wooyoung’s voice. “I said, what are you?”

You grab Wooyoung’s shoulder and press it firmly to the point it might have left a mark, “hey, enough.” He pushes your hand off of him like a lifeless bug. He laughs at you mockingly. 

“hEY, enOUgH,” he imitates your voice, “shut up you fucking whore.”

You don’t know what comes quicker, the word “whore” or Jeno socking Wooyoung’s face as it leaves his mouth. After Wooyoung’s on the floor, Jeno straddles him in order to fight him off. Wooyoung is the one who undercuts him this time, his knuckles cracking in the process. Jeno’s face is smoosed by Wooyoung’s other hand, making his nose start to bleed. Jeno hastily grabs the collar of Wooyoung’s shirt and lifts him to face him, about to throw another punch. 

“Jeno get off the floor. He’s not worth my time or yours.” 

Jeno’s fist shakes violently close to Wooyoung’s head for a couple more seconds before dropping it to get up and go to you. 

“I don’t need you, Wooyoung. I never did. I never will. Maybe learn how to respect yourself first before letting yourself go like this. Jeno, let’s go.” 

You grab ahold of Jeno’s hand and start walking out to the parking lot, but before you do, you turn on your heel just to flip him off one last time. It’s what your past self deserved. 

The moment you walk out and chilling night air hits your lungs, your body heaves and you release Jeno’s hand in order to place both of yours on your thighs. Your breath is shaky and you’re absolutely terrified, hot tears raining down your cheeks into every crevice. Jeno starts rubbing circles into the small of your back to comfort you, “I’m so proud of you.” His voice is like a warm blanket wrapped around you, soothing you like a cup of tea. He escorts you to the car after your tears come to a halt. On the car ride home, he had given you a spare shirt he had in the backseat you could wipe your tears and blow your nose in. He puts on music so that you aren’t embarrassed about it. The car ride home is always faster than the first one. Before you knew it, he was already parked in front of your apartment. He takes off his seatbelt so he could face you fully. 

“Do you feel better?” you could hear the concern delicately laced in his voice. 

“Why are you asking me?? How about you?? Are you okay?” you start hyperventilating, “man you shouldn't have gotten hurt!” You’re about to start crying again, gosh you were such a mess.

“Hey, hey, hey it’s okay.” He comes closer to you and tucks a strand of hair stuck to the dried tears on your face behind your ear. It calms you down. 

“Come inside Jeno, let me help you put ointment on the scratches.” 

Jeno has always been beautiful. Even when your ex-boyfriend smashed his face he was beautiful. But you’ve always treasured how beautiful he was on the inside the most. It was too scary to lose someone like him. Maybe that’s why you always fought back how you felt. But holding back how you felt wasn’t easy when he was in your bathroom and you were touching his face sweetly wiping the cuts and applying cat bandaids. “Are you okay.” you would weakly ask more as a reassurance that he was, indeed, okay and going to be okay rather than a question. He wished you took care of him like this forever. Made him come inside more. Let him hold your hand more. 

He always knew deep down that he was, and is, and probably will always be, so in love with you. 

Parting ways after the night was over was extremely difficult for some reason. He shakes your hand as you begin to close the door, not letting go and allowing your fingertips to slide off each other before finally parting. 

“Goodnight Jeno, drive safe.”

“Goodnight y/n, sleep safe.”

The door closes and you’re left cold and in the darkness staring at it as if it was Jeno. Your mind runs, but not as fast as your heart thinking about him and everything about him and what you two have been through over the years. Your hand is on the handle of your door now, certain he had already left. You're about to open it again, but loud knocks stream in onto the door, pounding into your eardrums. You swing it open with no hesitation. 

Jeno stands before you, his hair still messy, his jacket off from getting too hot at the villa, the cat band aids still fresh. His lips are parted and it seems like he’s as out of breath as you are. He’s staring at you like he’s seeing you for the first time and it makes your composure crumble.

“H-hey.” you finally make out.

“Hey.”

“I-i- forgot my emergency sandwich! that's why i opened the door-”

“I just want to see you.” 

His words scatter around your skin and into your insides, encompassing you. You take a moment to process this.

“I came back because I want to see you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him really tight, catching him off guard for a bit until he reciprocates the hug ten fold. “You make me smile until my cheeks hurt. I want to see you by my side too.”

He pulls away for a second, “really?” you shake your head yes, “really? Are you being serious?” 

“Yes! I am being serious! Why would I lie!?” 

And if you were going to lie, Jeno presses his lips gently onto your smile before you could even try to. When he pulls away both of you stand in awe, the feeling too surreal. You pull him back in by the nape of his neck, intensely, as if to make sure this wasn’t just a dream. Your feet find themselves back tracking into the house, his shoes being kicked off as he closes the door behind you.

Safe to say, you had a party for two on your own. 

#happy jeno day #neowritingsnet #cznnet #Jeno #lee jeno #nct jeno #nct #nct dream #nct dream jeno #jeno imagines #jeno scenarios #jeno reactions #jeno drabble #jeno ff #jeno fluff #jeno smut #jeno angst #jeno request #burst o'love event #lee jeno imagines #lee jeno scenarios #lee jeno reactions #lee jeno fluff #lee jeno angst #lee jeno smut #nct fluff #jeno soft hours #nct angst #nct imagines #nct reactions

[shypotato-translations]

QTVW Chapter 20

Showbiz* Sexy Queen (VII)

----

Mei Mu Lan frowned after hearing the system beep, it seemed that she now had another hidden task to solve the travelers in addition to the main task of raiding the villain.

It's not clear exactly what the definition of 'resolution' is, but according to the novel's plot, everything should change soon after.

Because the beginning part of the novel was caused by the death of the original owner Mei Mu Lan in a car accident, the description of the female lead Bai Jieying at that time was still just an innocent-looking girl with an upright personality, and her clean temperament attracted the attention of the male lead Ling Tianye.

And the next step was to come and audition for the supporting female role in the cast of 《The Burial Man》, only to be eliminated by the director and others.

Three days later, when she agreed to become the male lead's mistress, she returned to the production with the help of the male lead, and her acting skills were suddenly recognized by everyone, and she played the role of the enchanting undercover female agent in 《The Burial Man》, thus starting her acting career as the "Queen of Variety".

So it seems that if this travelers really entered the novel, then the time she crossed over was within these two days.

Mei Mu Lan rubbed her brow, feeling troubled, if her task was to face a simple and proud Bai Jieying, it would not be difficult to deal with her.

But now it was obvious that she was about to face a traveler who had also entered the virtual world from the real world, and there was no way for Mei Mu Lan to treat such a woman as an NPC in the virtual world, and……

Even for travelers, there are different types, and she knew absolutely nothing about this travelers' situation. And this traveler, upon entering this world, immediately grasps the key character, Ling Tianye, and she picks a script and a cast of characters that are complex and widely loved.

It is clear from here that she is a book-traveler who also knows what is about to happen in this world.

Mei Mu Lan groaned and grumbled in anguish as she thought of this, the traveler she needed to solve for this hidden mission was someone who was an even match for her, and according to the system ranking, such a traveler at present was actually only her beginner mission target, so she dared not imagine what kind of difficult characters she would encounter in her next crossover missions.

She let out a long sigh and thought, "No matter what, she has to find a way to monitor Bai Jieying's every move, be the first to get a head start, wait for an opportunity, and then take her out.

After Mei Mu Lan made her plans, she hired a high priced private detective to investigate and film Bai Jieying's actions and compile them into a case to her newly built email address while she was 'obsessively showing love' to Ling Yi Yao.

Every day after she came home from studying on set, she would open her emails and browse through Bai Jieying's investigation routine.

On the first day, an email came in showing that Bai Jieying and a major shareholder of a giant entertainment company went to a hotel room together, entering at 10pm that night and leaving intimately at 6am the next morning, holding hands.

The next day's email showed that Bai Jieying and the major shareholder had gone to a lounge that only senior members of society could enter, and that in the evening Bai Jieying had left hand in hand with the director of another major film being shot.

On the third day, an email came in showing that Bai Jieying, drenched in rain, had bumped into Ling Tianye with a messy face and the two of them had gotten into Ling Tianye's car hand in hand.

When Mei Mu Lan saw this message, her heart thumped.

She moved her mouse and dragged the email down to see the photo of Bai Jieying, who, although wet from the rain, didn't look at all disheveled, but rather because her clothes were wet against her body, exposing her youthful yet mature figure, and her expression was so charming that one wanted to hold her in one's heart and love her as soon as one saw her.

But she looked at Ling Tianye with pride and stubbornness in her eyes, like a cheetah that is always full of life and vitality, making people want to trample on her stubbornness and squeeze her in their hands.

Mei Mu Lan drew a cold breath, from this photo alone, one could feel that this woman was not simple, she was too high up the ladder.

Mei Mu Lan frowned and muttered,

“Here we go, here we go, the travelers are coming.”

She clicked on the photo with her mouse and displayed it in full screen, then stared at the woman and after some careful analysis, she found that she could not see, at all, the true feelings of this woman, and if she had not been wary of this traveler, then she would probably have been upset at the moment she saw the photo.

And with the way things are going today, she's going to meet this traveler tomorrow on the set of the film.

That makes exactly three days.

So now, now that the target traveler has appeared, the next thing she has to do is to find this woman's weakness and finish her off.

As she expected, Ling Tianye once again appeared on the set with this woman, and just last night, the innocent girl who was originally playing another tomb raider family had a very serious car accident on her way home, her whole face was ruined, and she is now completely unable to play this role.

And Ling Tianye, now bringing Bai Jieying to the set, is to send this woman into this production in the name of the investor.

Director Wang Ye is in an unhappy mood, he can see from the events of the previous days that this woman, is definitely not as innocent as she appears, but his best friend Ling Tianye is totally the man who listens to the brain from the lower part of his waist.

This time Ling Tianye's expression was serious, and it was clear that unlike the playfulness of the previous days, he was serious.

Just when Wang Ye was in a depressed mood and about to go berserk, Bai Jieying spoke up, her voice cool and gentle, flowing like a spring breeze in the hearts of the crowd.

She said apologetically,

“I know I didn't perform well last time and made everyone very unhappy, and this time I've asked Chairman Ling to intercede for me, but……”

She bit her lip and smiled softly, looking pale and endearing as she said,

“I just really like the novel and the other day when I found out I had a chance to be in it, I was so excited I banged on the door and made my family laugh. I really want to achieve my ambition, so please give me another chance, just let me play one more part, I won't let you down.”

Her gaze is determined and she glows with confidence.

Mei Mu Lan pursed her lips and smiled lightly, thinking: This woman's acting skills are really good, it's really hard to deal with.

Bai Jieying's heartfelt confession touched most of the people present, and when the director saw her pleading gaze and Ling Tianye's heartbroken eyes, he nodded helplessly and said,

“All right then, as you say, I'll give you one more chance to do a scene from the script.”

Bai Jieying bowed gratefully with crystal tears in her eyes.

Then Bai Jieying looked at the crowd, and at the sight of a delicate cheongsam with Republican makeup, her pupils visibly zoomed in and out, a micro-expression of surprise that Mei Mu Lan noticed.

And Bai Jieying turned to smile happily, walked towards Mei Mu Lan, took her hand and said with surprise in her voice,

“Sister, are you in this film too? Dad is old and his heart is not good. Last time you suddenly left the family dinner and made him lose face, that's why he said he wanted to break off the relationship with you, but he has regretted it now, but he just can't face it, just forgive him and go home and live together, okay?”

Although these words were spoken in the interest of Mei Mu Lan, there were traps everywhere in these words, and Bai Jieying's words were spoken in public, so what would the onlookers think?

It must be Mei Mu Lan, who is ungrateful and reckless, and who is a wilful and an abominable person.

Mei Mu Lan also took her hand with a surprised look on her face, and her sharp nails pinched hard into her hand, saying,

“Sister, I…… I was just upset with my father. You didn't know that my father was going to marry you off to a business friend who was in his fifties, and I couldn't stand it so I confronted him, didn't you always teach me from a young age that I had to be on the same page with you, but now, you keep blaming me?”

As she said this, she unconsciously showed a stubborn and aggrieved expression, which, together with her dressing style, made people feel strange, but more than that, it made people think that she was a person of true character.

Bai Jieying's back was turned to the crowd, her expression cold, her eyes like ice frozen for a thousand years as she stared at her with a creepy gaze.

Then she took Mei Mu Lan in her arms, her lips close to Mei Mu Lan's earlobe, and she said in a light tone,

“I know your secret, we are both the same, how about working together? It is better than having two sisters struggling with each other. Hmm? What do you say?”

She nibbled lightly on Mei Mu Lan's earlobe and asked.

Ling Yi Yao, who had just come out of the dressing room to change into her ancient costume, was standing not far behind these two people. After taking a look at the quiet atmosphere in the set and seeing Ling Tianye and Bai Jieying, she remembered what happened a few days ago and with a cold look on her face, she slowly walked over to Ling Tianye.

As she passed Mei Mu Lan, she walked without a glance, completely ignoring the two who were hugging each other in an intimate relationship.

But Mei Mu Lan showed a surprised expression, pushed Bai Jieying away, then picked up the camera and walked over to Ling Yi Yao, taking pictures in all directions at 365 degrees, then drooling at Ling Yi Yao, with green wolf-like eyes flashing in her eyes.

She said,

“Ahhhhhhh!!! It's this look, the never seen Ling Yi Yao look, ah, must collect it, ah ah ah ah!!! And ah, and ah, there's nothing between me and this woman, don't get me wrong ah, my heart belongs to you!”

Ling Yiyao: "......" The sense of crisis has reared its ugly head.

Director Wang Ye: "......" Mei Mu Lan is having another brain fart.

The crew in the audience: "......" Mei Mu Lan is having another brain fart.

The shy Bai Jieying on the floor: "......" Shit, this person is definitely the original!

#yuri #transmigration #world hopping #shypotato #QTVW20