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#as the world turns
flowerishness · 1 month
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Crocus
As the World Turns
A free ticket to Lotusland? Forget it! It's early spring so welcome to Crocus-land. The spring crocus is very beautiful but it's strictly time-limited. In two weeks it will be gone but worry not! As the world turns, Crocus-land will magically reappear - same time, same place. You can depend on it.
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As the World Turns 1
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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, imbalanced power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your new job takes you to new places with lots of new people.
Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, Lloyd Hansen
Note: I know I shouldn't have done this.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
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When you accepted your new position, you didn’t expect that two days later you would be on your very first business trip. Ever. Like at all!
It’s exciting. It’s not only your first trip overseas for work but your first trip across any border. You’re as happy to get use out of your passport as you are to have the new experiences. You don’t know, however, how much you’ll be able to enjoy any of it. It’s still work after all.
You stand at the luggage belt as your phone vibrates. It’s your boss, Mr. Fowler, once more asking you where you are. The car’s already there. It’s not your fault the elite class flyers got off first and you’re stuck searching for your bags among the sea of coach passengers.
‘Will be there shortly, sir. Just coming through customs.’
It’s a small lie but you don’t think he’ll be impressed to hear you’re struggling to find your bag. It’s not very big but it should be easy to find. A round plastic suitcase in a shade of sunflower you can’t miss. You think it’d be obvious amid the black and black suitcases milling along on the conveyor belt.
You see the plastic slats part and your bag shines bright, like a beacon calling to you. You race forward and grab onto the handle. You accidentally press the button with your thumb so the handle extends and you’re dragged along awkwardly as you struggle to lift it. 
Another passenger approaches to remove his heavy black bag but doesn’t walk away before helping you. You thank him with a smile. He’s older, maybe your grandpa’s age, and he assures you it’s no problem. He walks off and you plant the wheels of your bag straight, swerving around as you follow the signs.
You bring your phone up again and read Mr. Fowler’s next impatient text.
‘Take the cab fare off your per diem.’
Right. You’re not surprised. From what you know of your boss so far, he’s a stickler. He knows what he wants and he doesn’t settle for less. While he can be charming, even accommodating, he can also be terrifyingly stern. One moment he has that smile that makes his eyes twinkle and the next, his jaw is set and danger darkens his features. The very memory of that expression makes you shiver.
You suppose it’s your own fault. You should’ve considered the job description a bit closer. An executive assistant does a lot more than just the typical secretary. The pay itself was proof enough. Can you really complain? The perks include free trips!
You try to stay as positive as you can, ignoring your mother’s voice as it sneaks into the back of your head. She always has something negative to say. She could win the lottery and complain about the trouble of claiming her winnings.
You make your way through the terminal and into the atrium, passing by new arrivals and waiting departures. You check your smart watch, you’ll get in your steps for sure, and hurry as the minutes tick by. You follow the flow outside and find a spot along the pick up area, waving down a taxi as your phone buzzes again.
‘Don’t show up without scotch’.
The message is terse. You can only assume the flight was less than accommodating. You spent your time in coach looking out at the clouds or catching up on the adventures in Westeros. Terribly depressing books but it only makes reality a little less so.
You get into a taxi and ask the driver to take you to a liquor store. He doesn’t seem to understand you. Oh, boy. You pull up Google translate on your phone and speak into it, setting it to translate into the native language. You let the speaker play the text to voice. The driver nods and starts the meter.
Okay, not bad. You’re figuring this out. If anything, Mr. Fowler has to give you points for effort, right? 
You ask the taxi to wait as you run in and find yourself faced with shelves of bottles and cans. This is the hard part, you’re not much of a drinker. With the help of Google, you ask the clerk for a bottle of scotch and pay with the company card. You’re right back out to the taxi.
Everything is so fast, you feel like you’re still catching up. You’re doing things. Every minute matters. You feel important, probably for the first time in your life. No more sitting behind a desk yawning, you’re tired for good reason.
You give the hotel name next and let yourself relax. Just for a little. Your eyes drift to the traffic outside the taxi, the voices all around, the dimming of the sky as the city sets to evening. It’s beautiful and new and wonderful.
The driver lets you off in front of the hotel. You’re greeted by a valet who offers to take your bag. You try to refuse but he insists, so you let him and follow him inside. As you enter, another man approaches.
You’re confused at first. He’s tall, blonde, and dressed as if he’s a businessman visiting on his own sojourn. You look around, thinking he might be headed for someone behind you. No, it’s only you. You turn back and find his blue eyes centered on you as he stops before you.
“Miss, welcome,” he lilts in his refined accent, “may I have your name so we may get you checked in?”
“Oh, yes, thanks, uh, sir. Actually, first, my, er… my boss is here. I think. He must’ve shown up twenty minutes ago. Erm, Mr. Fowler. I have, a oh,” you look down at the bottle in your hands, “I have this for him.”
“Wonderful,” he eyes the bottle, “Izak,” he addresses the valet, “Fowler.”
He takes the bottle from you without resistance. There’s something about his confidence that has you frozen. He hands it to the valet, Izak, and sends him off. You smile and give a nervous chuckle.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you rub the back of your neck.
“That is my job. I’m at your service, miss. Jonathan Pine, manager,” he offers his hand.
You shake it, doing your best to keep a firm grip. His fingers are so long that your hand feels tiny in his. He lets you go as you rescind your hand, crossing one arm over your stomach as you cup your other elbow, playing with the button of your blouse.
“Your name, miss?”
“Oh, duh,” you clutch the front of your blouse and eke out your name.
“Great, this way,” he beckons you with him and leads you to a round desk. He steps behind and types as his blue eyes reflect the screen. “I assume you’re here on business. You mentioned your boss is in another accommodation.”
“Yes, uh, my first business trip,” you almost wiggle with delight, “I’ve never even stayed in a hotel, you know?”
“Well, then I hope your stay is exceptional,” he smiles as he clicks around, giving a thoughtful hum, “allow me to make your first a special one,” he intones, “I’ve upgraded you to a suite.”
“A suite? Oh, but–”
“No additional fee. It will remain at the rate of your previous room,” his eyes flick to you.
“Wow, that’s… do I sound that pathetic?”
“Pathetic? Not at all, miss.”
You chew your lip and sway back and forth, crossing both arms across your chest. You don’t know what to say. He’s so nice that it almost feels patronizing. Or you’re just insecure. 
“Allow me to show you your suite,” he comes out from behind the desk, holding out a small black folio. 
You take it and look inside, two cards and a little insert with tiny text on it. You bring your hands down to fold over your stomach and back up to let him lead you. He struts along with you to the elevator and hits the button. He gestures you in first and follows.
“You haven’t traveled before?” He asks.
“Not really. We used to go camping but not far from home. Then we didn’t go anywhere. I’ve been working since, er, college, so… this is my first chance.”
“Well, the world is vast and not all are so lucky as to venture beyond their front door. It’s truly a privilege,” he says. The doors ding and parts, again, he waits for you to go ahead of him.
You step out and check the folio. You read the number and match it to a door at the far end of the hall. He’s right behind you as you get to the suite. 
“Shall I show you around?” He asks as you stop on either side of the doorframe.
“Erm, sure, why not?” You shrug.
“Might I?” He points to your hands and you give him the folio.
He takes out a card and holds it up, “these can be unfortunately finicky. You must make sure you hold it so,” he shows you how to position it and slides it through the slot beside the handle. The red light turns green and the door unlocks. “Please,” he opens the door and nods you inside.
You enter as he follows. The door slowly closes as he lets it go and he slips the card back into the folio. He puts it on the corner table beside the door and taps it with his fingertips.
“You’ll find the wireless information in there along with the room service details and our continental breakfast times,” he explains, “if you’ve any questions, you may call the front desk.”
“Thank you,” you smile.
“Let me briefly go over the rest of your amenities and I’ll leave you in peace,” he avows as he waves you further inside, “a full bath,” he stops at the doorway to his left, “there are jets built in, rather useful after a long flight.”
You give a polite laugh and he presses on. He guides you through the suite; a kitchenette, a mini bar, a sitting space, a bedroom, a balcony, and a key to the private pool. You thank him again.
He goes back to the door, about to leave but pausing at the door, “if you require anything, you may ask for me. Jonathan, remember.”
“Jonathan,” you repeat.
He nods and steps out into the hall, gently closing the door behind him. You feel another buzz in your pocket. Shoot! Mr. Fowler.
‘Scotch is here. Where are you?’
You cringe and hurry out of the room. You should’ve known better. There was just a lot happening at once. You hurry down the hall and stop short of the elevator. You don’t know where his room is.
‘On my way, sir. Where is your room?’
You key in the message, awkwardly lingering as you wait for his response.
‘Not there. In restaurant. Two minutes.’
You push your head back. You really just want to go back to the room and jump into that giant bed. A full queen to yourself. That’s actual heaven. You answer, affirming your obedience and head for the elevator.
You get down to the lobby and once more find yourself lost. You have that problem, not thinking two steps ahead. As you look around, you see the valet, Izak.
“Hi, uh, is there a restaurant around here?” You ask sheepishly.
“Yes, miss, right through there,” he points towards the rear of the lobby to a wide archway crested with a point.
You thank Izak and scurry across the lobby. You put your phone away as you enter the restaurant and a server approaches you. They ask if you want a table for one and you explain that you’re meeting your boss. She points him out and asks you if you’d like a drink. You assume you won’t be staying for dinner so you pass.
As you near his table, Mr. Fowler doesn’t look up. You stop just across from him and wring your hands. You wait for him to say something but he’s focused on the menu.
“Sorry, sir, I was just checking in–”
“Sit,” he demands.
“Right, thanks,” you sit and grip the edge of the table, “it was very busy at the airport and I had to stop on the way for your scotch–”
“But no time to bring it yourself?” He challenges as he sets the menu down, finally looking at you, “I have a colleague meeting me here shortly.” His eyes dip briefly as he eyes your blouse, “hm, you didn’t change?”
“Like I was saying, sir, I didn’t have a chance yet–”
“Undo your top button,” he waves off your excuses as he sits back and grabs the short glass of scotch in front of him.
“Sir?”
“You look like a nun,” he retorts, “just one button, sweetheart.”
You furrow your brow but pop your top button open. It doesn’t show very much but it still feels wrong. You sit back and peer around the restaurant. The din is quiet and the lightning soft and warm.
“Um, so, you want me to stay for dinner?”
“You leave when I dismiss you,” he says curtly.
“Yes, sir, I understand,” you reply.
“Stop fidgeting,” he clucks, “try to sit still.”
“Yes, sir,” your voice shrinks.
He sighs and stares at you, “smile, okay? This is an important dinner.”
“Right,” you force a smile, cheeks trembling. 
All the excitement, all your former optimism, slowly slakes away. You get the churning anxiety in your stomach. The same sensation that kept you in bed a few minutes past your alarm. You’re only a few days in, you can do this.
“Fowler,” a voice booms across the restaurant as footfalls approach.
Your boss stands and you scramble to do the same. He shakes the hand of another man as you turn to face his acquaintance. It must be his aforementioned colleague.
“Hansen,” Fowler counters as their handshake becomes a battle, “about time.”
“Pfft, you were always boring. You gotta get out, buddy. Especially around here. I’ll give you a few names. There’s a sweet girl down at the spa–” the man, Hansen coughs, stopping himself midsentence as his eyes fall to you, “oh? And this is?”
“New assistant.” Fowler sits and pushes the tails of his jacket back.
You give your name as Hansen puts his hand out again. Instead of shaking yours, he takes it and kisses it in a very old-fashioned gesture, though something about his demeanour is sleazy. 
“Lloyd,” he winks as he clings to your hand, “Mr. Hansen is so boring. Makes me sound like an old man.”
You smile and repeat his name.
“What happened to Bennet?” He turns and claims the third chair. You lower yourself, content to be peripheral to their reunion.
“Gone,” is all Fowler says as his eyes meet yours, “so, what’re you drinking, Hansen?”
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everythingtamara · 14 days
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Happy 65th Birthday to the amazing, beautiful, talented Tamara Tunie🎉🎉🥳💗. I just love her 😍🥰.
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sophsun1 · 30 days
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bonniehooper · 4 months
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Top Picks of 2023
My Top 20 New Favorite Actors - #16: Jesse Lee Soffer
Introduction to Him: Chicago P.D.
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mrsfoyet · 1 year
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Thomas Gibson in As The World Turns
His skills, his kisses, his hands, his passion...
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1whump-dump1 · 6 months
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Luke Snyder (As The World Turns)
Watch
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quetzalnoah · 1 year
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assiraphales · 1 year
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this is so overly specific but I think one of the worst “bury the gays” incident ever was on the series finale of as the world turns. this neurosurgeon (who was dating one of the main characters luke in the soap opera) was getting a heart for a transplant, just for his car to get stuck on a railroad, and a train hit and killed him. in the series finale. THE SERIES FINALE. rip dr oliver reid I will always remember you
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old-man-hell · 2 months
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nellarw95 · 4 months
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Happy Birthday Holly +50 🥳🎂🎈🎁🎉
Buon Compleanno 🥳🎂🎈🎁🎉
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awarenessaslove · 3 months
Audio
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fatimagic · 9 months
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HAPPY 20th MONTANAVERSARY TO JACK & CARLY SNYDER JULY 3, 2003
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everythingtamara · 6 months
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You know I always loved when she would just wear her natural curls 😍😍😩
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sophsun1 · 25 days
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He doesn't seem like a very nice man.
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ablufox74 · 6 months
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The Downfall of Daytime Television: The Demise of Soap Operas and Their Digital Migration
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The Golden Age of Daytime Television
Daytime television has a storied past, dating back to the early days of broadcasting. In the 1940s and 1950s, soap operas earned their moniker as they were often sponsored by soap companies eager to connect with their predominantly female audience. These early soap operas, aired on radio and television, provided daily entertainment while frequently addressing significant social issues.
Throughout the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s, soap operas enjoyed an unparalleled golden age. Shows like “General Hospital,” “The Young and the Restless,” “All My Children,” and “Days of Our Lives” captivated millions of viewers daily. These programs were renowned for their gripping storylines, well-crafted characters, and ability to tackle vital social issues, including AIDS, addiction, and mental health, thoughtfully and compassionately.
The Downfall of Daytime Television
Nonetheless, the turn of the 21st century ushered in a substantial decline in the popularity of daytime television and soap operas. Several converging factors contributed to this decline:
1. Changing Viewership Habits: The emergence of the internet and the proliferation of streaming services gradually prompted viewers to shift away from traditional television. Younger generations, in particular, favored on-demand content over rigid broadcast schedules.
2. Dwindling Advertising Revenue: Traditionally, soap operas relied heavily on advertising revenue, and as viewership waned, so did the advertising dollars. Advertisers redirected their budgets towards more lucrative prime-time slots and digital platforms.
3. High Production Costs: The production costs associated with daily soap operas, including actor salaries, writers’ fees, and crew expenses, remained notably high. This financial burden became increasingly difficult for networks to justify as viewership declined.
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The Digital Migration of “Days of Our Lives”
In a significant and strategic move, “Days of Our Lives,” one of the most iconic soap operas, made a groundbreaking transition in 2021. The show shifted its broadcast platform from traditional television to the Peacock streaming service. This transition was perceived as a survival tactic and an acknowledgment of the changing media landscape.
The decline of daytime television, marked by the cancellation of numerous soap operas and the migration of “Days of Our Lives” to Peacock, reflects the dynamic shifts in the modern media landscape. While the heyday of soap operas may be in the rearview mirror, the genre’s legacy lives on in the hearts of devoted fans and the continued exploration of compelling storytelling in the digital era. The demise of daytime television serves as a poignant reminder that adaptability and innovation are essential for any form of entertainment to survive and thrive in the ever-evolving media world.
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