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rehfan · 1 year

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So there was a post a while back…. and I wrote a thing from it. Can’t find the post, but here’s the finished product:

If Walls Could Talk

Words: Chapter 1: 1,172 — Chapter 2: 1,989 — Whole Work: 9.4K — ONLY THE FIRST 2 CHAPTERS POSTED HERE. CLICK HERE FOR THE WHOLE WORK.

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader/AFAB!Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson is your new roommate and things have been going well enough - until your hormones get the best of you one night… and Eddie hears it all.

Warnings: Under 18 DNI — get out now! Not for you! Evesdropping on intimate things; masturbation; vaginal fingering; cunnilingus; mutual masturbation; mutual pining; dirty talk; slight non-con; multiple orgasms; nipple play; motorboating; cowgirl position; PIV sex; orgasm delay/denial; anal sex; unprotected sex - DO NOT DO THIS; spanking

****DO NOT POST MY WORKS TO ANY OTHER SITE — YOU DO NOT HAVE MY PERMISSION*****

CHAPTER 1

It wasn’t as though you hadn’t had a roommate before - or even a guy as a roommate - but you had never had Eddie Munson as one and your hormones never stood a chance.

Your old roommate switched colleges and moved out beginning of last summer. You were kind of desperate to make rent and you mentioned this to anyone who would listen in the vague hope that they would know someone you could at least have coffee with in order to judge if they were going to be a good fit. You spoke to everyone you liked and trusted - including your mechanic. The owner of the shop, Larry, had known you forever because your family had been customers practically since he opened his doors in ‘72.

“Hey, I think I may know someone. Wait here,” he said, holding a finger up at your before exiting the small office and disappearing through the door at the back leading to the car bays.

He was only gone a few minutes before returning with a smile and a question: “You mind a male as a roommate?”

You shrugged. Not against the idea, you asked him to give you more information.

“You went to Hawkins High, right?”

“Sure.”

“You remember Eddie Munson?”

You did. You hadn’t thought about him in two years - not since you both graduated and you went off to college. When you made that change, you determined to leave your immaturity behind. Including your senseless crushes on unattainable metalheads from high school. He was the best human. So expressive. So brave to just be himself, reputations be damned. You were too busy keeping your head down in school to figure out who the hell you were. You saved your self-exploration for college. But Eddie didn’t wait. He lived his life out loud and you were envious and enamored at the same time. But you never told him how much you admired him. And after graduation, you never thought you would get the chance; you thought he was gone from your life forever.

A chuckle escaped your lips when you recalled Eddie flipping the principal the bird after snatching his diploma.

“Is he as irreverent now as he was then?” you asked.

Larry shrugged. “He’s a great worker. Always here on time. Works his shift. Works hard. Plays harder. Good candidate, you think?”

You nodded and asked to speak to him. As you waited for him to get a free moment, you wondered what he would look like. Would he still have the long hair and wear that vest with the pins and patches over the leather jacket? He would probably still listen to the same music - clinging desperately to his heavy metal even with the advent of that new stuff coming out of Seattle.

The door opened once more and there he was: his hair was still long, but pushed back in a bandana and secured by an elastic hair band into a ponytail. The wallet chain, denim vest, and leather jacket of your memory were missing, replaced with a grease-stained jumpsuit with his name embroidered on a patch above the left breast pocket, but it was still the same old Eddie. You had forgotten how completely handsome he was.

He stared at you for a moment and within the span of it, you thought he was going to turn tail and run, his widened eyes betraying what appeared to be fear, but his features relaxed and he smiled easily, recalling your name and greeting you with a wide smile.

“I hear you’re looking for a new roommate,” he said. “I’m ready to move out of where I’ve been and need a place to land. You want to talk?”

You arranged to meet at a local diner when he got off his shift. It was several hours before that time and you were nervous as hell by the time you scooted yourself into the booth and waited the few minutes it would take until his arrival.

And what an arrival. A motorcycle pulled up and that rockstar look from high school was back, only he wore a bomber jacket nowadays. As soon as he pulled off his helmet and shook out that mane of hair, you knew you were a goner. Was he really the one you were considering for a roommate? Your only thought as he strolled toward you with an ease that made you salivate, was would he at least remember to clean up after himself?

Oh who were you fooling? You knew you’d do it. You knew it like you knew he would smell like mechanic’s soap and cigarettes as he slid into the booth seat opposite you and smiled that dimpled grin.

Oh you were seriously a goner. Send the flowers to the funeral home, you were dead meat. And he was charming. He was all smiles and reminiscing and jokes and laughter. Conversely, he took finances pretty seriously. He came from nothing and knew the value of a dollar. He wasn’t about to screw you over for rent or any of the shared utilities. It was refreshing to have such a frank discussion.

It took exactly one burger and one milkshake later for you both to decide that this would work out. You gave him your address and left the diner floating on air. Housekeeping wasn’t something you enjoyed, but cleaning the spare room became your favorite task. You wiped the windows and sills, made sure the vacuum was run over the carpet, checked the closet for any detritus from the last inhabitant - there was none - and shifted the bed to make certain nothing was underneath. You wanted everything to be perfect for him.

It was halfway through this that it occurred to you that he was his own man and had his own life to lead. Just because you were roommates didn’t mean he was into you; it just meant that you were sharing living space and bills. It was a mutual agreement, not an invitation for a romp in the hay with him. Who knows how many women had gotten weak in the knees when he flashed those dimples? Who knew if he would plan on bringing any of them home? To your home? Under your roof? Where you could hear them both through the walls as he was no-doubt an aggressive lover.

All of this occurred to you as you stood in the middle of the naked room regarding the queen mattress box spring and bed frame that seemed to stare back at you with the sounds of future fucking echoing in the room.

You moved the bed against the far wall opposite to the one you shared. You didn’t want the torture of hearing the girl losing her shit as well as the thump-thump-thump against the wall that would inevitably happen. Once done, you left the room as quickly as you could, shutting the door behind you.

This couldn’t be the best decision you’ve ever made, but at least the bills would be paid.

CHAPTER 2

Two weeks after Eddie moved in, things were getting into a routine you could both live with. You would leave for work about the same time. Breakfast was like a dance in the kitchen between him wolfing down cereal and you making toast and tea. He would sometimes cook enough eggs for the two of you and you would make packed lunches for you both. He would take out the garbage, you would sort through the morning’s mail. In the evening, dinner would be coordinated by phone call or sorted out once you two got home. You weren’t picky and neither was Eddie. Weekends were spent doing your own things, so far.

Eddie had left the house early that Saturday morning, saying something about his Uncle Wayne needing his help fixing up his trailer and that he probably wouldn’t be home until late. You had a few errands to run - including getting your hair done - and so you were cool with his plans. He winked at you as he left and you smiled, embarrassed that he could embarrass you with such a simple gesture.

The first morning he had spent in the apartment, he had wandered into the kitchen in just his boxers. His tattoos had been on full display and you had forced yourself to look away and focus on putting sugar in your tea. This morning had been no different; he had stooped to see where the orange juice was and you had enjoyed the curve of his ass from the relative safety of the opposite side of the kitchen island. You wanted to lick the valley of his spine and bite the nape of his neck.

The thought of him was becoming a problem. The hairstylist had to call your name twice to get you to come wash out your color. The lady at the check out asked you “paper or plastic” twice before you snapped out of it. It was as if you were living in a dream world with only minor intrusions of real life invading your thoughts. And your thoughts were lovely, filled with heavy breathing and bold declarations and passionate kisses and deep, rutting thrusts into your core.

The book you had taken with you to the hair appointment - the one in which you had read the same line five times before giving up - had a word in it: Torpor. It was a wonderful word. It meant a state of mental and motor inactivity with partial or total insensibility. You had never been to the brink of senselessness like that with a man. You wanted to be that way with Eddie. As you felt the hairdresser massage your scalp over and over, you wondered if he were the man for the job.

“Shall we go for something different? Or should we just trim the ends?” she asked you.

“You know? Let’s do something else. The cut I have I’m sick of. Can we go more… Pat Benatar? Or maybe Joan Jett? I’m sick of… whatever the hell this is.”

“Ohhh… Joan Jett. Definitely,” she said, eyes alight. “You’ve got the bone structure to pull it off.”

“Go for it,” you agreed. It was only hair after all. What the hell.

When you got home, you used the toilet and glanced at yourself in the mirror as you washed your hands. Yeah. This was definitely a change for you. And you loved the shit out of it. You felt confident, sexy, desirable. Maybe you’d ring your friends and hit a bar or two tonight. You needed a release.

Plans were set. You picked out a plain black mini-skirt you hadn’t worn in a hot minute and thigh-high stockings with black pumps. You topped it off with a fuzzy baby pink half-sweater with a low scoop neck that showed off the girls as well as just an inch or two of your belly, but you didn’t care. Three silver rings on your fingers, a black choker necklace around your neck, and a smokey eye with a pink glossy lip finished off the look. You drank two full cups of milk to coat your stomach against all the tequila you were going to drink and headed out with your three closest friends for a night out you had deserved for quite some time.

It was after two am by the time you got in. You crept in, not wanting to wake Eddie if you could help it. Turns out, you didn’t have to worry. He was up watching a scary movie on TV. You hated horror films and said hi and bye to him as he looked over at you, eyes wide and mouth open.

Yeah, Eddie. Eat your fucking heart out, loverboy. You could have this, but you don’t want it do you? I’m just the roommate.

You walked away slowly down the hall just to make him drool.

In truth, it was you who was drooling. He was soft tonight. A henley that you knew felt like heaven as you had folded it for him once. Gray sweatpants and white socks. He looked snuggly and was probably warm. He probably smelled like that cedar cologne he wore and cigarettes. He probably tasted like mint candy. He would probably feel heavy on top of you, skin against skin, moaning into each other’s mouths, keening when he touched your clit with his hands, his tongue, his cock.

Jesus, you needed the release of cumming. You stood in front of your full-length mirror and slowly touched your breasts over your clothes, pushing them together, cupping them and holding them out to his imagined mouth. That mouth that sucked up spaghetti like he was auditioning for a porno. A mouth that smirked and pouted and made you want to nibble it to hurt it and lick at it to soothe it. You wanted it against your skin.

You moved to your bed, backing away slowly, your eyes on your reflection as you stripped for him, as you let yourself fall apart for him. The haze of the alcohol was warm in your brain as your breasts fell from your bra, nipples instantly at attention in the cool of the room. You held the flesh of them up, head tilted to one side and you bit your lip.

“Do you like them, Eddie? Are they pretty? Wanna lick them like ice cream cones, doncha?” you said, a husky whisper falling into giggles as you thought of the shocked look on his face in the living room earlier. No doubt the same shocked look would grace his face if you ever did this to him. Your thumb slipped under your skirt, one hand finding the zipper on the side. It fell to the floor and pooled at your feet.

You stood before the mirror and admired the view. Breasts on display, panties the color of summer sky, and thigh-high stockings finished off with black pumps. One forward fold of your body and your panties were gone. “You like me like this, Eds? Just my stockings and heels? Everything else on display? Just for you? Hmm?”

“Come on,” you said to him. The Eddie in your mind came up behind you and cupped your breasts for you. “You know you want more, don’t you, Eddie?”

One of your hands coasted down your skin, cupping your sex and running a finger between your folds. You were soaked but that was no surprise. What did surprise you was your boldness in staring yourself down in the mirror while you did it. Normally, the lights were out and you were under the covers or it was the first thing in the morning after waking from a particularly excellent dream; you never looked at yourself, admired your figure in the mirror, watched your fingers work your bud and your mouth hang open. You sat on the end of your bed and watched yourself rub your clit and squeeze your nipple with your free hand, legs spread wide.

“Filthy boy wants to watch me fuck myself for him? Right here? Wants to watch me finger my pussy? Okay, naughty boy. Look at it. It’s all for you, Eddie. All yours.” Leaning back on one hand, you worked your clit, dipping down to your hole and back up again, flicking across your clit, your slick dripping as you could feel him staring at you. Drooling for you. Only you.

You pictured his filthy mechanic’s hands on your thighs, dipping down for a better look. Spreading you wider. Swallowing hard taking in the view. You fell back against the bed. Closing your eyes, you could feel him there panting, the want coming off of him in waves, translating into your fingers that moved inside you as you moaned his name low and long, breath catching causing you to gasp.

The curl of heat in your belly was getting tighter as you worked. His smile was wicked in the low lamplight of your room. “Need your cock, Eddie. Need it so bad. Do you want to put it in me? Tell me you need it.”

“Always need you. Needed you since the first second I saw you tonight. And look at you now: falling apart for me and I’m not even doing anything.” You could feel his hot breath against your legs as he whispered to you and you whimpered. “Come on, angel. You can do better than that. I want you to say it.”

“Give me your cock, Eds. Need every inch. Wanna feel the stretch. Only you can give me that. Come on, Eds. Please,” you moaned. Your fingers worked inside yourself, the sensation pleasurable, but not enough; the angle was wrong, your fingers too short.

Dammit.

You worked your clit again. The urge to cum was right there. You wished it could last longer, that you had a dildo or something to help you along and stretch the feeling out, to help you feel full and give you something to bounce on, but this was it. You had to be satisfied with that and with the look you were imagining was on Eddie’s face knowing that all this effort was just for him.

“Can’t get off without me, can you? Poor little baby. Need my cock, honey?”

“Yeah, Eds. I need your cock. M’gonna cum, but still want you inside me. You are so fucking hot. ‘Specially in the morning. Always want to kiss your neck in the morning. Lick your skin. Smell you. Feel your warmth. Always want to curl into you on the couch too. You always look so soft. Even when you come home filthy; want to get in the shower with you and scrub you clean. Want to watch the soapy bubbles glide down your skin. Want to wash your hair. You want me to wash you, baby?”

“Oh sweetheart, that sounds like heaven.”

“Want to kiss you every second of every day.” You gasped as your orgasm drew closer, fingers working faster over your tight bundle of nerves. You pictured his mouth on you in the deepest slowest kiss you could imagine. His mouth was amazing. Obscene. Perfect.

You moaned his name as your orgasm crashed over you. Your back arched, heels digging into the mattress. You rode it for as long as you could, willing it to last. Your thighs closed and your rolled on your side, resting, your brain wondering how tender Eddie would be at aftercare. You pictured soothing caresses and small kisses and whispered words praising your efforts.

Good girl.

Sweet girl.

You did so well.

You looked so hot.

You did all that for me?

God, I’m lucky.

It was several minutes before you recovered enough to get your stockings and shoes off and threw on some comfy bedclothes, scuffling up the duvet around you and collapsing into a sleep that involved cuddling into the warmth of one Edward Munson, mechanic, roommate, and source of delicious orgasms.

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Want the rest? Go to AO3 HERE.

Tagged readers: @ali-r3n / @faithm120601 / @chickensinrainboots / @silky-luxe / @harrys-tittie / @h-ness1944

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #joe quinn #joseph quinn #eddie munson #stranger things

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introvertedlass · 7 months

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My fav thing about all this is that after 2 years and 2 weddings, and 1024884 articles about dating and marriage, Chris finally admitted he’s married and STILL did not mention his wife by name nor did he compliment her in any way.

But all this means is there’s still no official sound bite. I get that many ppl will say he didn’t need to mention her name and yes it’s true everyone knew who he was speaking about…but do they?

Tabloids do not have him on quote at any point saying AB’s name. Even on the scare videos he miraculously never said her name once. He was on print saying he had a gf and still no name. He went on stage and actually admitted to being married and mentioned a lady being from PT but still no name.

There are thousands/millions of women in PT or from PT. One could easily say he married any one of them. (This is clearly sarcasm because everyone knows he’s referring to AB) but the tabloids to this day can still only assume he married AB because she is most recently connected to him and is from PT. Occam’s razor and so that’s what they’ll continue to write and circulate. They can absolutely do that and the GP and most fans will believe it and atp won’t question him or it. Unless you’re the small 1 percent who sees the inconsistencies that almost feel on purpose. 😉

But without wedding photos released to the public or a people exclusive with pics and a official statement, they can only use the same separate stock photos of them side by side or one of the 20 from his vday video which only has one pic of them actually kissing. Coincidentally, the only photo ppl have of them being together after the wedding is a blurry back of the head photo of them with no money shot. The Central Park debut pap pics have them in masks and then one video of her with no mask looking pissed while he’s covered head to toe with mask. WDW she’s in a crop top showing her tattoo while he’s covered head to toe in hat and mask. LOL. The only photos of him and her together were in 24 hour IG stories that disappeared so they can’t be traced back to a direct live and existing link.

Friends and family follow but nobody publicly posts a pic of her with him or vice versa. Both sides. Both sides don’t even publicly show up in the same pics together. Justin the trolling king of clout still can’t post actual photos with both groups in Bermuda so he posts 97474 ones of his sisters wedding instead.

So after all this, it’s still a strategy for plausible deniability which is so hilarious because you’d think he’d actually have the moment to get on stage and talk about her and how amazing she is but he used 5 out of 30 seconds to say his wife from PT and used the other 25 seconds to mention the two weddings and reflecting on being married - before going on a 10 min love sesh about his dog. Even when he mentioned his ex gf Jenny slate he had a paragraph of compliments for her. They did a whole podcast together before they started dating. They have cute candids of them together caught by fans and friends/family posted them together in private photos. There were old interviews where he mentioned he loved hanging out with his gf (Jessica biel) because she was an awesome person. They were publicly cute and attended red carpets and even did movies together.

But his wife who he has had as a gf for awhile is big on judging ppl’s energies when she meets them and is from PT.

TMZ got some homework to do or they simply don’t care because in a court of law, none of this evidence can be used to prove they are married. It’s all speculation still because Occam’s razor and likes and follows on IG are not equate to “hard proof.” An anonymous source saying their names together are married but no official confirmation still isn’t 100% proof. It’s just heavy and intentional speculation designed to make you just accept and believe that it’s true and not question but the fine print is there.

I think they intend to keep it this way until they have fulfilled their purpose.

(By no means am I saying they didn’t have a wedding. It would just be stupid atp to do all that and not. But I’ve also known someone who had a lavish wedding but didn’t actually file the marriage paperwork. So despite being married to the public, they were never legally married. And when they got “divorced”, they just split and had no ties to each other. True story.)

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polarisbibliotheque · 2 months

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About the time a guy was being creepy to me on a professional setting and my gut feeling told me "GET OUT NOW"

Ok, so hi! This post has to do with a reblog recently here in my blog, on one of my fics regarding Dante and Vergil with an s/o suffering from being hit on without their consent. I write Devil May Cry fanfiction and that was my way of coping with a CREEP being, well, a creep.

Who would've known, fanfic is therapeutical

My answer got so big, I decided to make a separate post about it - and I'm talking like this because, if this gets out the DMC sphere and other people read it, they'll understand the fandom talk a little bit. This is not just for the fandom, but everyone out there.

Including men. All of us are prone to being targets of creeps - even if I'll be telling about my experience as a woman, take this advice to your heart NO MATTER your gender.

When this episode happened in my life, I was 27 y/o, I think...? I got pushed into such a stupid corner by this guy who kept messaging me with "work related" stuff... And my family wasn't validating my "this is weird" feeling.

So... What happened?

(TW: I mention the words "rape" and "sexual abuse" but none of that has happened. It was a red flag and I want to talk about avoiding it like the plague and how people might dismiss your gut feeling when something is wrong. I write with brutal honesty, curse words and don't censor anything, because I'm here to tell people how it is not curating content to go viral on clean ~family friendly~ social media. This is honest advice I'd give someone else, so it's just a heads up. I'm a little jaded with all the censoring of "forbidden words" when you have to discuss serious subjects like this nowadays hahahaha)

First context, I'm a Lawyer. Hi. I know it doesn't sound like it Second context, I'm from Latin America. Hi again!

Well, in my country, we have to vote every couple of years for the National Lawyer Association President and Vice-President (for my USA people, it's like the BAR association for Lawyers - meaning only lawyers who have passed the BAR and are, indeed, full-fledged to the association and with a lawyer permit can vote). I hate it, but it is what it is, I have to vote every time for one of those posh speaking clowns or else.

This much older guy stopped me at the entrance to the voting building to do some political propaganda of one of the candidates. Expected. They weren't the ones I was gonna vote 'cause their agenda didn't fit what I wanted for the Association - nevertheless, I smiled and was polite. Guy wouldn't shut up, but that's a lawyer thing. Kept being polite, dismissed him kindly and went inside to vote.

As I came back, guy is there and stops me. I had called my mom to give me a ride home - by that time, I had been broke and without a job for 2 years up until that point, trying to get back into the ~lawyer business~ and recover from a very bad burnout, so paying a ride back home was a big no. I had my phone on my hand and kept chatting because, you know, networking. You never know.

Now, mind you. I'm about to celebrate my 30th birthday this year, but people seriously think I'm underage wherever I go. I have to literally show them my credentials and ID so they can believe a single word I say. This guy, must've been around his 50s or something - and I look like a teen or, at best, 20 years old. I graduated when I was 22, so that's the most he could've imagined I was.

As we're talking, dude is flexing his career so hard I start to do the same. He says he has known the President and influential people in politics (back then, far-right government, so red flag already waving in the horizon), he has an office both here and in New York and Miami, he has worked with the FBI (we're in Latin America, the USA stuff is a flex for far-right people). I say I have worked as the Labor Lawyer in a huge worldwide known multinational company, coordinated with people in the USA and UK, had around 100 cases to manage monthly and keep the company in order when the directors were not around.

Guy is impressed and asks for my contact on LinkedIn. I'm down for it, I'm looking for a job and he could be one hell of a way to get back on business. Dude mentions he's in digital law and, heck, I wanted so bad to get into digital law! It was like he was put in my way by the angels to help me get back on my feet!

He asks for my resumé and my cellphone number, so he can have me in his office to have a cup of coffee. I am soaring by now. "That's it!!" I think "That's my ticket back to being a lawyer, to having my own money, to breaking the cycle of unemployment and having my career back!" - so I do it! I give him my number!

hello, workaholic aunt here speaking, my career was everything to me, I'd do everything for it

After I got back home, told my mom everything, and everyone was so happy. That's when he started sending me messages - asking for my address so he could send me some lawyer magazines and such... Even though he had asked when we were talking before and I changed the subject. I didn't give him of course, but instead sent him my resumé.

So, next day he asks me about that coffee and I said we can make it happen... Even if he got my name wrong. I have a pretty exotic name in whatever country I go, so it's a common mistake, known to happen, no one can pronounce my name right if I don't teach them how to, so yeah. I'm willing to gloss over that.

I'm assuming he read my resumé, saw how smart, capable and hardworking I am, and wants to talk business. Wants to offer me a job. I'm super ready. I'm taking my business clothes out of the closet, I'm cleaning my high heel black boots, I'm checking my references and vocabulary so I don't screw up. Guy sends a message saying he wants to take me out for lunch.

Red flag. My instincts flare up and I'm just staring at the screen. I start reviewing everything. I mean... Business lunches are ok, right? I had lunches with my manager and director plenty of times back in the day and it never got weird. So... Why was I feeling weird now...?

Guy says we can go out for lunch and then back at his office so he can show me around. I was like "hmmm... ok? shouldn't be weird. this is normal." but nevertheless I went to check with my mom and my sister.

Both said it was fine. I was feeling weird because it's a guy and me and I shouldn't be feeling uneasy - it's my social anxiety/workplace trauma talking. It's the opportunity of a lifetime. I shouldn't screw up.

I keep talking to him. I ask where we should meet up for this lunch and he tells me to give him my address, so he could pick me up and we can go to "a nice place to have lunch" (his words, not mine).

Red flags are dancing around my head. I keep thinking "have I lead him on something????" and going mad. What was I wearing? Only work clothes, that's all - suit pants, black high heel boots, dark silk shirt and only a nude lipstick so my lips wouldn't get chapped. My shirt didn't even show cleavage.

It's ridiculous how I feel this is a thing I should add 'cause heaven forbid the cleavage

What about what I've said? Did I accidentally flirt?? 'Cause that's been known to happen - I'm a clueless ace who can't for the life of me notice when people are flirting or not or notice when people think I'm flirting with them. And usually when they are not flirting or being attractive, that's when the magic happens for me! So... What gives?! Did I do something wrong, that sent the wrong message?

I mean, I was nice, yes. But you're supposed to be nice to people. I'm not gonna be rude just because most guys can't keep it in their pants.

I go over the messages. I didn't do anything strictly not business like. I'm very good at that. I have only worked responding to men as bosses in my life, had four male bosses before him, all different ages, marital status, star signs, backgrounds, lives. The best colleagues and co-workers I used to spend hours having coffee and laughing with were men. So I know how to keep professional and not mixing things up. It wasn't a slip up from my side.

Well, then there's always the chance I was going crazy and overreacting, soooo... I go over to my mom and sister. They think it's weird, yes, but they do think that's exactly what's going on: I'm overreacting and my social anxiety/workplace trauma is blocking me from pursuing this opportunity that can help my career - and make me have a salary again so I can help at home.

Ok. I though up and go back to talking to him. I tell him fine but I'll go to the place myself, so he can tell me where he's thinking about having lunch. Guy tells me nothing and keeps insisting I give him my address and he will give me a ride so we can "get to know each other better".

My GODS I've never felt so uncomfortable. Not even when I had to stay ONLY with my boss working until 1 am, only the two of us in the company building, every light out except the one in the room we were in, him being around 15 years older than me and very confident, with the two of us having one of the best work chemistry I had in my LIFE.

He could've done ANYTHING to me, but we only talked strictly work. We were tired, he waited for my mom to pick me up at 1 am outside so nothing bad would happen to me, both of us under an umbrella, he apologized to my mom for having me stay at work so late and then went back home to his wife and kid. I NEVER, at ANY moment felt unsafe around him. He was my mentor, he was my boss, he was a good colleague and even somewhat of a friend.

So why on EARTH was I feeling SO UNCOMFORTABLE with this guy I had only met ONCE face to face in my life?

I start to voice my concerns. My mom and my sister think I'm only saying that because I don't want to go back to work. That I want to throw my career away because I can't control my anxiety and my feelings. We fight a couple of times and a couple of days. My mom tells my aunt about it. My aunt goes full FBI and does a background check on this dude.

That's when she told my mom some things weren't adding up. His LinkedIn profile was a little too weird and he had no ties whatsoever with the elected President of the Lawyer Association - was he really someone in their team for propaganda? Nevertheless, he did have an office and did work with digital law, both here and in the USA. I shouldn't let this opportunity slip.

I got so mad. SO MAD. To the point my sister decided to ask her boyfriend for his opinion on all of it and he was like "hey... your sister is kinda right. guy wouldn't offer to take ME to a nice restaurant to have lunch and go to his office later for a coffee, would he...? I mean, this never happened to me" - and sis' boyfriend is on the business meetings and negotiations/selling part of the spectrum. He knows what he's talking about.

So now I finally have a man validating my concerns.

I take the decision to shut the whole thing down. I go "very well, I will NOT meet him, I will NOT maintain contact with him, he's treating me like a whore he picked up on the street". At this point, I am FUCKING FUMING. But still, my sister and mom gave him the benefit of the doubt and made me feel like I was doing something wrong.

So I decided to marinate him for a while.

I should note that all his messages were sent close or around midnight, not at working hours. And I only answered at working hours. Since I was taking a while to respond, my dude just goes like, and I kid you not, "ooooh she's not answering, she's ignoring me, I don't like that *sad emoji*" LIKE A FUCKING 13 YEAR OLD (no offense, 13 y/o peoples, but this dude is a FULL GROWN ASS MAN).

I am offended, I am flabbergasted and I wish I could suplex him to oblivion.

I show my mom the message. She just stares at me in awe. She FINALLY is like "yeah, ok, this isn't very professional". ALL THIS TIME, I never really told her what I was thinking and what was really worrying me. And then I break her the news that, what I'm really afraid of, is that this guy is going to rape me in his car. Or he's going to drive me somewhere I can't fight or scream and then he'll rape me. Whatever the scenario, it ended up with me being raped and I was scared. SO. FUCKING. SCARED.

My mom goes into Sphinx mode - that's when she doesn't answer and doesn't even look at me and just ~thinks~. It's a brutal reality she doesn't like and I don't like it either, I mean, it's my safety we're talking about here.

I shut down the guy completely. I tell him there's a family emergency and I couldn't continue to give him any attention nor I could go out for that lunch and I couldn't talk anymore. He SUDDENLY goes cold and "I am sorry if any of my messages seemed inconvenient. Do answer when you have the time so we can make an appointment." And that's it. No more messages. He's done in my book.

My mom tells my aunt. Aunt goes Sherlock Holmes mode this time and, lo and behold, they find an website of this guy's office. My mom is shocked at how 90's internet it looks for a guy who works with digital law. She then recognizes the address of the office but the doesn't remember of any office building in that street - so she Googles it.

His "office" is actually a residential building - meaning, it was his home address. She shows it to me and I want to cry - out of rage, shame, fear, sadness. I go like "yeah, this is the place he wanted me to go, to his home. What was he going to do to me there, huh?" - and I think the answer is pretty obvious.

Later, speaking to my sister, she's like "I dunno why you're so mad" and I'm like "WELL MISS I just got PICKED UP LIKE A WHORE outside of an OFFICIAL EVENT for the NATIONAL LAWYER ASSOCIATION while I was DRESSED UP PROFESSIONALLY and looking for PROFESSIONAL opportunities and I COULD HAVE BEEN RAPED. I think I have all the right in the FUCKING WORLD to be FUMING."

That's when we diverged some more. She just said like "hey that's how the world works: women are treated like whores - you weren't the first one to have this happen to you and you won't be the last. What are you gonna do about it? Get over it."

Oh. Boy. I looked at my sister's eyes. I saw her just staring at me weirdly. A storm was approaching. The skies darkened. Bury the Light started playing in the background. Vergil's doppelgänger was standing behind me like an angel of death. (All DMC references for my non-DMC peoples)

"Well. I wanna have power. So much fucking power in this world that no one ever even thinks about treating me like that again. So much power they will fear standing in front of me and saying those words - they will look into my eyes and shut up. So much power I will never be afraid to walk on my own again and I will never have to doubt my feelings when I'm feeling unsafe because some lowlife pitiful little shit decided I should be a whore to satisfy him. I want to have power so I will never be this helpless again."

Cue in my sister just sitting there with butter in the slice of bread in her hand, staring at me like "wtf man... do you need a hug...?" and me doing a dramatic exit back to my room to, well... Write the fanfic in question.

(For my DMC creatures: I never even thought of Vergil when I said all of this, I just noted that thought later in my diary and reading it a couple of days later I was like "omg I have become my worst enemy, fuck you Verge" because I kid you not, I used to hate this man with all the fibers of my being - hence where my longfic Nemesis came from. I realized I lived long enough to become my worst enemy - and maybe I hated him because Vergil made me look at the part of myself I didn't like and didn't want to admit existed *I'm laughing while writing this, I do find it weirdly amusing*)

DMC things aside, this WHOLE episode made me feel so frustrated. I never had anyone to validate me, only people doubting me or asking me if I lead him on, or what was I wearing, or if I smiled too much, if I was being too nice, if I said something inappropriate, and so on. I had to get it all off my chest and I thought maybe, juuuust maybe, Dante and Vergil would've been more supportive regarding that.

Because, you know, they know trauma and they are protective as fuck. They can have all the red flags and mental issues in this world, but I don't think they would EVER dismiss their partner - especially a woman - feeling unsafe and fearing being abused or raped. In order to trust, you have to give the person and opportunity and room to open up to you without judgements - and I do think they aren't very judgy people.

I mean, they are demons, for fuck's sake. They can't judge anything especially Vergil

Also, I don't blame my mom nor my sister (even if I got really mad at her). In the end, both of them wanted what was best for me, they thought it was an opportunity and wanted me to get my career back. Truth is, no woman knows how to act when this happens. And they didn't know how to act as well. They didn't want to think of the worst: just like I was doubting myself and my own feelings, they were doubting theirs as well. We ALL had to be validated by a man to admit something was wrong and we weren't hysterical.

Ok, ok, storytime over. But I felt like sharing this because people, you are ALWAYS valid in your concerns - and there's no clothing, no smile, no attitude, no NOTHING that JUSTIFIES abuse. If you're abused or feeling like someone wants to take advantage of you, especially sexually, YOUR FEELINGS AND FEARS ARE VALID. Don't shrug it off or water it down just because people are saying you're overreacting - if I had listened to everyone around me instead of my gut feeling that something was REALLY wrong, only the gods know what would've happened. But I'll tell ya, it probably wouldn't have been good for me.

At best, I'd be mad this guy would want to pick me up like a whore and I'd have to turn him down and take a ride home. At worst, he would've raped me - in his car, at the "restaurant", at his "office". We don't know, but I didn't want to "give luck to bad luck" as we say where I live.

I didn't have support, so I wrote a story to feel supported by the fictional characters I look up to - I wished SO bad I was dating someone, especially a man, who'd tell me he'd go through hell and back to keep me safe and wouldn't allow anyone to hurt me and validate my feelings. Someone who would make me feel safe and I wouldn't have to only rely on myself.

cue in V saying he too wanted to be loved and protected, I tell you, all this time I thought I hated Vergil when I had only found my nemesis in a mirror

So, don't ever doubt yourselves. Don't ever doubt your gut feelings. We might want validation and someone to keep us safe, but sometimes we don't have that and have to rely on our survival mode. It sucks, but there's a reason why that thing is called "survival": it keeps you alive. It keeps you going.

And no one, NO ONE has the right to say you're overreacting, you're being hysterical, you're reading too much into it, you're just trying to find the easy way out, you just don't want an opportunity because you're lazy, you're crazy and deranged, etc, etc.

If your gut is flapping red flags all around, then overreact. Be hysterical. Read too much into it, find the easy way out, be lazy, be crazy and deranged. Be the villain. Be the bad person. You're not perfect. You're not a princess. Be comfortable with people telling you you're bad - but never NEVER let go of your gut feeling when your safety is on the line.

That fucking thing WILL save your life. Being too nice, though, might not. Listen to yourself, be TRUE to yourself, and, again, don't be afraid to be bad.

Someday you might just find your half-demon man who will support you, protect you and treat you as an equal powerhouse, but until that day, keep on conquering your self-esteem and unwavering will.

I'm just saying all of this now because:

1 - I was too scared to talk about this for a looong time afraid the guy in question would find this, know it's me and my safety would be on the line again

2 - Just now I'm getting comfortable with the concept of being "seen as the villain" and being "seen as bad". My whole life I have been dancing around this because people always said I had a "difficult" personality. I watched Cruella recently and it hit home so hard. We do have things to learn from villainous characters and maybe this is just who I am. People are going to see me as bad so, who cares. Even if I'm not, it would do me good getting used to that idea - I can be more assertive to my boundaries and not allow any of this to happen again. So, there you go. It's an exercise everyone should do. Are you comfortable defending your ideas, your boundaries and your integrity even if people are mad you're not being a pushover/perfectly polite?

It's something I think all of us should think about ;)

Also

thanks for coming to my TED Talk :')

#polaris speaks #story time #red flags #workplace #work life #job hunting #I don't even know how to tag this #so if you guys have any ideas you're welcome to add #I just think it's a bit of experience we all have to share #so other people will be aware and know how to avoid this kind of shit #because like I told you not even all the women in my family knew how to act #and we all have this thing of not being rude or cutting off relationships or networking contacts and such #of being perfect all the time #hence why I'm on this 'be bad be villainous be fabulous' phase #'cause I do think some of us could benefit from that #don't be a bitch by all means #but know how to set and protect your boundaries #alsoooo it's a huge post #I know #but I felt it might be good #so thanks for reading if you read all of it HAHAHAHA #I HOPE it has helped you xD #still scared of that guy finding me tho not gonna lie #but it is what it is

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finnwrld · 2 years

Text

- devil's advocate -

pairing: eddie munson x reader (no prns)

word count: 3.9k

content: spoiler free, sex but no smut (i'm struggling to commit to smut), tutor troupe, swearing, smoking, drinking, my rusty writing and horrible attempt to write from the r-r-r-readers perspective 🤢 also tw the reader is good at math

summary: after hooking up with eddie munson 3 seperate times in a month and never talking about it, you somehow get stuck tutoring him.

a/n: im alive i promise. are any of my followers alive? no. but i am.

Hooking up with Eddie Munson was a one time thing.

Ok, maybe, a two time thing.

Well, if you were being honest with yourself, it was a three time thing. Three times in one month.

It was supposed to happen once.

Never once did you anticipate ever speaking to Eddie ever again after walking up to him at Vicki Carmicheal’s party. When he stepped closer, his alcohol-tainted breath fanning on you, you guessed he thought the same. You didn’t even think you would remember the night when you closed the gap.

—

“Eddie Munson, stay after class.”

Thankful that you weren't in Eddie’s shoes, you gathered your stuff to leave school for the day with the rest of the class.

“Oh,” your teacher’s eyes left his laptop to scan over the room, “And Y/n L/n.”

—

At the bonfire, when your blurred vision picked up the brown curls of Eddie Munson, you attempted to ignore heat that surged across your body. You blamed it on the alcohol. You blamed the way his chest wavered as he locked his eyes with you on the alcohol. Alcohol is what guided your hands under his shirt and what pushed his body flush to yours. You would blame a lot of what you did that night on the alcohol.

—

A tense silence stuffed the classroom as you, Eddie, and your teacher sat awkwardly across from each other. Eddie was intensely avoiding eye contact and you tried to keep your leg from bouncing as you all waited for somebody to speak.

“Mr. Munson,” your teacher started, “You, my boy, have the lowest grade out of any student of Hawkens High enrolled in Algebra 2.” He let his statement linger in the air, allowing the both of you to absorb his words, then, he continued.

“But, since I really do believe in you, I’ve taken it upon myself to get you a tutor until your grade has improved.”

You could practically see Eddie's face curl up in anguish.

“Am I not allowed to pick my own?”

Your teacher shook his head slowly, “No. I have picked out the perfect candidate.”

—

When you heard Eddie Munson was coming to Hagan’s new years party, you couldn’t deny the flutter of excitement that had danced around your chest. His being tainted your head as you got ready, your eyes trained to how he would see you. A flash of him interrupted every blink. His voice whispered in your ear. Ghosts of touch lingered on your skin.

When you finally got to the party, your eyes dodged every other person there, since they were desperately darting around. Music pumped through your veins as you grabbed a cup of whatever was in the punch bowl, eyes still scanning the room. Downing it as fast as you could, you let the buzz of the booze wash over you and resumed your search. A glimpse of leather, a black and white baseball tee, a flash of red. Finally, he was in frame.

Your breath caught as his eyes slowly moved over your form, shyly meeting your own. Multi-colored lights glided across his body, his white shirt so shear the ink of his tattoos could be seen through it. Music drowned out your heartbeat. You could feel the blush that crawled up your cheeks, Eddie's own color reflected back. Carefully, you let one foot float in front of the other and walked over to Eddie. Alcohol already fusing with your body, you let your hand casually hook around his belt loop. Using your new connection, you guided him out of the house, a smirk pulling on the corner of Eddie’s lip as he let you lead.

“Not even gonna say hi first,” he scoffed, hands raised.

“We can talk when I’m high,” you countered, sitting down behind Mr. Hagan’s shed, and desperately attempting to cover up your flustered expression from the adrenalin.

Eddie dawned a faux-concerned expression. “I think this drug problem is getting really serious.”

“Shut up Munson.”

His smirk reformed as he pulled out that stupid rusty box, and rummaged through it until he found a pre and a lighter. After straightening it out a bit, he gently placed the joint between his teeth. Each satisfying swipe of the lighter dragged your eyes down to his lips. The flame that danced over the sides of the joint lured your gaze to stray from Eddie’s deep eyes to focus on his mouth as he exhaled a puff of smoke, letting some stream into his nose.

After a couple more hits, he held the joint out to you between two fingers, glazed eyes watching the stars. You gratefully accepted it, attempting to clear your mind of the vision of the moonlight cascading down his face, sculpting each dip and grove. You breathed deep when your lips were sealed around the filter, letting the smoke fill your lungs. Each hit brought you back to him. Back to how close you were seated, how his leg felt against yours, how he'd begun to slide his hand closer to you.

His hand lingered above your exposed thigh, just grazing it with the skin of his palm. Chills swept down your legs as the cool metal of his rings brushed across your skin, and you could feel the curve of his satisfied smile at your reaction as he leaned into your shoulder. His hand carefully curled around your leg, slowly gliding its way up.

“What are you doing Eddie,” you whispered.

He replied lowly, so close you could feel each syllable against your skin as they left his lips, “Whatever you want me to.”

—

The sound of yours and Eddie's shoes against the deserted linoleum of the school hallways was unnerving. Binders and spiral notebooks dug into your skin as you gripped them, hands white knuckled and clammy. You could just barely feel the denim of his jacket brush against your arm, and you half wished he would move further away as you walked.

You had to tutor Eddie fucking Munson. Your teacher hadn’t spared either of you a moment before sending you off to the library, giving you just enough time to overthink the next hour.

It wasn’t easy being near Eddie. You two had never interacted outside of sex, and it was difficult to interact normally, acting as if nothing had happened. But what were you supposed to say? How do you approach a conversation about that? Not even just that though, how do you approach any conversation with somebody you’ve never even spoken to outside of sex? You’ve never even had a conversation with him sober. Was he even going to listen to you teach? Would his whole view and respect for you be skewed? And how on earth were you supposed to talk to him when such a striking mix of weed and cologne permanently emanated from him. Your brain probably wouldn’t even work well enough to teach him math.

He seemed fine. That familiar stupid smirk hung on his face as he held the library door open for you with a flourish.

The thank you said in return probably counted more as mouthing than speaking.

Acutely aware of his intense gaze on you, you awkwardly led him to one of the old chipped tables in the corner of the library, far away from any remaining students. Your chair creaked as you pulled it out, breaking the silence you and Eddie had been drowned in since you left class. You finally unclamped your hands from around your notebooks and began to lay them out on the table busily while Eddie fished around in his pocket for something.

Turns out it was a singular dull pencil without an eraser.

“Alright,” you said uncertainly, sitting down and trying to organize your brain, “Um… where do you want to start?”

“You’re the teacher here, where should we start?”

Of course he was gonna make this difficult.

“Ok. Fine.” You shuffled your papers around, not really for any reason, just to bide yourself some time. “Do you have any questions about today’s lesson?”

His face instantly slipped into a deep troubled pondering expression. One that was much too dramatic for Eddie to be serious. “What did we learn?”

“Matrices and transition graphs,” you almost deadpanned.

Gears began to visibly turn in his head, and he muttered, “Matrices and transition graphs… ahh…”

“You have no clue what those are, do you?”

“Not one.”

You sighed, not even shocked, not even angry. It was honestly sort of tough to conceal your smile.

“I'm going to be your tutor for a while, aren't I."

He shot you a grin, “Only if I have it my way.”

—

Tutoring Eddie Munson was alright.

That’s what you told to anybody who asked.

In reality, tutoring Eddie Munson was much more than alright.

You had never really ever been around somebody like him. He exuded a disconcerting aire of cocky but comforting, cool but offbeat. At every moment when you thought that he would finally upset you, he would wheel in the exact opposite direction, driving your emotions through a startlingly enjoyable route.

Shockingly, he was pretty easy to talk to. Never once did your past encounters get brought up, which you were endlessly grateful for, and he treated you just like any of his friends, with respect and kindness, which could not be said for some of your other past hookups. He said hi to you in the halls and smiled at you from across classes, he learned your favorite music and what food you hated, he made an effort to know you. Tutoring him barely felt like work. Most of the time that you spent teaching him math was overlaid with chatting mindlessly and giggling as he tried to secretly count on his fingers. Sometimes you could waste whole tutoring sessions listening to some grand dramatic story he told as he bounded around your table, morphing into different characters and voices, putting on a full one-man show before you.

He was also, completely and utterly, gorgeous.

The way his hair draped delicately over his shoulder, how his necklaces dangled from his skin as he leaned over the table, when he would tilt his head to the side as he listened, the glimpses of his tattoos. Every word you spoke and every syllable you uttered had his undivided attention as you talked, big brown eyes gazing at you, taking in every feature.

On cloud-free days, the sun would beam down through the tall library windows onto the dark oak of the table you had both claimed and would reflect off of the silver of his rings. They would glint distractingly as Eddie wrote, catching your eye at every shift. It happened so often you had now memorized his usual jewelry selections. A great ugly boar rested on his middle finger, accompanied by one skull ring on either side. On his other hand, an ornate ring with patterns that curled up the side and cradled a deep blue stone in the center.

He knew you were staring at his hands, but you didn’t care.

His unflinching reaction towards your gaze gave you just enough of a push to one day ask, “Could I… try on one of your rings?”

His eyebrows raised in shock, “You want to wear my jewelry? This is quite out of character…” He flashed a toothy grin at you from across the table, “I love it.”

“Thanks for reminding me how much you love the real me,” you deadpanned, ignoring the excitement that was bubbling up your chest.

“Forever and always,” another shining grin, “Now…” he said dramatically, face suddenly darkening, “Which one will you choose… your whole reputation depends on this one decision.” He waved his hands around with a flourish. “Will you still have your student’s respect after this? Will anybody ever talk to you again? We will see..” His hands stilled in front of you, and he held them out to give you a clear view of each band.

You put one hand up to your chin, miming contemplating the choice, and let your other hand drop down to his own, taking one finger and guiding it across his knuckles. His chest completely stilled.

“Hmmm…”

Your finger came to a halt over the intricate ring with the blue jewel. Eddie’s smile reformed and he faintly exhaled as your finger lost contact with his skin.

“Good choice,” he said, not looking up at you. His eyes were trained at his own hand, slowly twisting the band off of his ring finger. They continued to avoid yours as, to your surprise, he didn’t give you the ring after he had freed it from his own finger.

He took your right hand in his, his skin gently curving around your own, and brought his thumb beneath your ring finger, lifting it above the others. Your chest began to heat up at the delicacy with which he delivered this, and you urgently tried to blot out the earlier instances when Eddie had held you with the same touch. It felt like he was barely grazing your skin, and yet you could feel, with a searing intensity, each joint of each of his fingers shifting under your flesh, curling and stilling around you.

Chills shot up your spine as the cool metal of the chosen ring finally met your skin, and at last, Eddie raised his eyes to meet your own. They remained riveted on yours as his fingers guided the band down your finger and, though the ring was fully fastened, his fingers remained resting against your skin. He let them stray up, delicately brushing against you as he cradled your hand.

The raw air chilled your skin when he drew away.

You’re grateful he didn't say anything when you left that session with the ring still fixed around your finger, because you don’t think you could’ve gone through that again anytime soon.

That night, you slept thinking of Eddie’s touch.

—

The issue with Eddie was, despite your best efforts, he would never leave your thoughts. Every sense was occupied non stop by his smell, his voice, his gaze. Intoxicatingly, you overdosed on every part of him, eventually giving up on blocking his presence and allowing him to consume each and every thought you produced.

He seemed to know that even after you left him, he remained a permanent fixture in your mind. It was written in his smug smile and his playful jabs, the knowing.

His presence was so constant that it must’ve been on purpose.

Each little thing. Him using your pencil casually during school, knowing you could see. Never mentioning the ring that still lay on your finger, allowing you the chance to keep it. The glances down your being as you passed, catching him staring across the class, touches that lasted far too long. He wanted you to be thinking of him.

There were nights when you, under the golden light of your desk lamp, would open your notebook to doodles dotted around the edges of your paper, snuck in while you were focused on something else. The pages of anything you brought to tutoring were lined with cartoonish devils and creatures with many legs and sharp teeth that lined their roaring mouths that Eddie had thought up. Vines curled around the lining of the page, and a little mix-matched group of elvis and wizards dashed across the top margin. In the very bottom corner, tucked between a crude drawing of a smiling clown and an ornate sword, was a drawing he seemed to have put a bit more time into.

The more you examined it, the stronger that recognizable heat radiated across your chest. It was a bust's profile, with the head tilted slightly down and brows furrowed in concentration, pen carefully structuring the swooping bridge of a nose and curvature of lips.

It wasn't flawless, but there was no mistaking that it was you.

That night, you slept thinking of Eddie’s thoughts.

—

Eddie’s math grades had actually begun to improve, and in class you watched with pride as he started to listen to your teacher, sometimes even taking notes. He would show you his math tests with a huge smile, genuinely excited to see how you would react at his new shiny high score.

Mid-way through April, he sauntered into the library, horribly concealing the giddy expression that was forming on his face and a hand behind his back.

You inquired, your face beginning to reflect his smile, "Something terrible happen to you, Ed?"

“Oh it’s nothing,” he said, drifting around the table as if he was wandering through a lush garden, “just… this!” and the hand that had been hidden behind his back whipped out to reveal a paper with a great red “93%” scrawled on it.

“Eddie!” you sprung out of your chair and ran over to where he was to snatch the paper out of his hand. “This is fucking g-”

But before you could finish your sentence, he flung his arms around you and drew you into a hug. “I’m a genius now, thanks to you,” he whispered into your ear, as you brought your arms up to loop around his back.

“You don't even need me anymore,” you whispered back, trying to fight the urge to bury your head into the crook of his neck.

Eddie pulled away abruptly, looking at you as if you had just slid a knife into his chest. “Don’t you try and get rid of me.” His face was inches from yours, hands dropping to rest against your hips instead of fully pulling away. You let your head tilt to the side gently.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He shook his head with a faux-anxious aire, “I’m gonna have to start failing my tests again so that you can’t escape, aren’t I?”

You could barely even focus on what he was saying because of how vividly you were aware of how his hands rested against your jeans, how you could smell the weed in his hair and the leather of his jacket, how he hadn’t broken eye contact since he pulled from the hug.

His smile had finally returned to his face, he had gone off on some tangent and was animatedly talking, clearly still giddy from his test score. That smile had become a very important part in your life as of late. They weren’t rare or extreme, but they were somehow better every time.

That night, you slept thinking of Eddie’s being.

—

Liking Eddie Munson was hard.

Eddie Munson sticks to what he knows. Eddie Munson gets bored easily. Eddie Munson won’t ask you out.

You knew he was going to Steve Harington’s birthday party. You didn’t know how he even managed to get invited but you knew he was going. And he knew that you were going too.

But when you got to Steve’s house, he was nowhere to be found. You had spent the first 30 minutes, walking around and making brief conversation with people as you half-searched for Eddie. As you made your way around the house, still unable to find him, you began asking people off-handedly if they had seen the freak (under the pretext of giving him his math homework back). The few answers that you received that weren’t weird looks got you nowhere, and eventually you found yourself finally just aimlessly roaming through the upper floors of the Harringtons' house.

It was useless. The top level was completely empty, save for a rather awkward encounter with Nancy and Steve as they were leaving his bedroom, and you knew it was time to leave. At the very least, you needed some fresh air if you weren't going to entirely go, so you returned to the first floor and into the foyer.

You flung the front door open with a huff and your eyes landed on a figure that was standing on the porch of the house across the street. Cigarette haze clouded around him, catching the moonlight in its smoke and giving him an almost dreamlike glow as he let his head hang back. Despite yourself, you let his name fall from your lips, shouting across the empty street, “Eddie?”

He casually swung himself around to face you, eyes foggily making their way to meet your own, lighting up as they cleared. A smile had begun to spread across his face and he lifted up his hand to beckon you to him. Slowly, you floated across the abandoned road and up the few stairs to the neighbors porch, leaning over the balcony railing and basking in the cool spring night that you both found yourself in. Eddie gently leaned his back against it, taking a drag from his half finished cigarette as he did so.

“Do you wanna go on a walk with me?”

You didn’t try to hide the grin that tugged at your lips. “Where to?”

“Just around,” he said with a shrug and a smile, and he set off, one hand deep in his pocket and smoke billowing from his lips. Following behind him, you quickly caught up and paced beside Eddie, melting into the mix of collonge and cigarettes that exuded from him.

The faint murmur of music could still be heard coming from the street, pumping adrenaline and impulse through your bones as if it was the cold itself. You, again, could feel the leather of Eddie's jacket brushing against your bare arm, static branching from the skin. Lonely street lamp’s glow glinted on the shining leather and in the brown of his averted eyes.

Eddie broke the silence first, eyes trained at the stars.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.” He let out some smoke with a puff.

It took you a while to recover enough words to form a sentence in reply and, thankful for Eddie's avoidance of eye contact, you let yourself breath before giving an answer.

“What… about me?” You tried to come off as nonchalant but you could tell he could hear the tenseness dripping off your voice.

“About” and it was his turn to waver now, sucking in an uneven breath that you could only just hear, “your… whole being.”

He pushed his head into his hands and let out a laugh. An actual, honest, almost desperate, laugh. “Every waking moment I’ve ever spent with you,” he continued, “Every word you’ve ever spoken, every time you’ve ever looked in my direction.” With each word he spoke he seemed to be in less and less control of what he was saying, more and more frenzied.

You hadn’t moved. You stood stagnant, in the middle of the empty street, streetlights spotlighting you and him, blacking out the rest of the world into dark expanse, and stared at Eddie Munson as he said words you couldn’t dream of and looked at you like he never had before.

As Eddie stood just inches before you, a lock of hair caught between his teeth, looking at you for a response with worry etched deep in his features. You knew what you wanted to say, and when you breathed in and readied to reply, you just hoped it would come out how you wanted it to.

“Eddie,” you reached out and took his hand, “Would you go on a date with me?”

The worry that had felt so ingrained in his face dropped at all at once, and he gazed at you, lips slightly parted and eyes wide.

“Did you mean that?” he whispered, so softly it was barely audible.

You let your forehead meet his, “Of course.”

When he spoke again his voice came out almost strained, as if he was trying to stay calm, "Then yes, yes, yes-" and, finally, he closed the gap between your lips, cupping your face and pressing against you like it was the last thing he would ever do.

And in that glorious moment it became very clear to you, hooking up with Eddie Munson was definitely not a one time thing.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

Text

fic rec friday 4

welcome to the fourth fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

1. Flip by @icypantherwrites

A very important alliance hinges on Voltron’s ability to perform a Sambayee — a show of athleticism and grace — and Allura had believed she was Voltron’s best candidate. But the aliens do not want an alliance and set an impossible bar that Allura is horrified to realize she cannot reach. There is no way any one can.

Except, she learns, there is. And there is far, far more to Lance than she had once believed.

Gymnast Lance and Allura angst. What more do you need? Seriously, I love them both so much, and the fic treats them both with respect as friends (which can sometimes be tricky, but this does great!)

2. A Wider Universe by @spiralled-fury

Lance, separated from his team, his family, his home.

For them, it wasn't long.

For him, it was two years.

Two years of endless fighting.

New scars, new pain, new hatred.

And new feelings.

I don’t really need to rec this fic -- sixty thousand of us have read it. It’s the voltron epic of all voltron epics. BAMF Lance of all BAMF Lances, slowburn klance, MFE pilots with important parts to the story, and the best Lance & Red relationshop literally ever written.

3. The Cracks in Your Mask by @chyeahlex16

According to Lance, he has a great life. A large family full of younger kids running around a cozy house, a stern father and a strong, loving mother, a large dog full of love for his owners, lots of space to run around and grow in the backyard. Only light and happiness, no tragedy to speak of. But this is far from the truth.

They’ll never know. If he has anything to say about it, no one will ever know the real truth.

- A journey following Lance as he comes to terms with his past and sexuality in a way he couldn't around his family on earth.

(Basically a very personal self-projection on Lance. Some material can be triggering, but I'm keeping it as vague as possible for obvious reasons.)

A major warning -- this fic is a very heavy deep-dive into the traumatising aftermath of childhood sexual assault. Lance, who was CSA’d as a child, is having more and more triggers in his every day life as a paladin. This story details his worsening spiral into his trauma, and his eventual snap and reliance on his team. It’s an excellent story, the team handles Lance with so much care, and it’s a really important story to read, I think (but, again, tread carefully).

4. Two Years On A Fucking Space Whale by vrepit_nah

After two years on a damn space whale, the Voltron team see Keith return to them. Lance missed Keith, and well, it seemed Keith didn't feel the same seeing as he brushed past Lance without even a 'Hi.'

Except, this isn't Voltron: The Show, but Voltron: My Retelling (And the one we all wanted.)

Keith changes his mind about ignoring Lance.

This is the reunion fic that we deserve! Sappy klance! Whipped Keith! Flustered Lance! I love reading this one when I need to feel better about season 6.

5. the electric synthesized pop ballad of why keith can’t have nice things by kay_cricketed

Keith can't have nice things. That's it. That's the story.

(Or, in which Keith slowly learns that sometimes the best family is the one you make, Pidge has strong feelings about peanuts, Lance has a secret but would've spoken up sooner if he'd known it would break Keith's brain, Hunk is the actual best, and Shiro is just relieved he didn't have to give anyone the Talk.)

Is this an ABO au? Yes. Am I a little embarrassed about it? Also yes. But I’ll be real, this fic is really good! It’s well written, it’s nonlinear -- which I love -- and it features absolute conniving shithead Lance, whom I adore. It’s a fun fic with interesting themes, including a big thing on trust, and I really recommend it.

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

#please dont discredit the last one okay i promise its great #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #langst #bamf lance #klance #longpost #tw csa #gymnast lance #team as family #fic rec #fic rec friday

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qsmp-lore-dump · 6 months

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How Many Quackitys

*a slighly updated analysis of Q and ElQ. this analysis only looks at Q and ElQ in 2 parts ,however, I believe there are multiple Quackitys or rather Q is further fractured that ElQ. Meaning the Quackitys share more memory bleed with each other than they do with ElQ, but ElQ shares more memory bleed with the Quackitys.*

WHO ARE THEY?

Quackity and ElQ are brothers or physical representations of different parts of his mentality. They are not explicitly aware of the other but seem to share some bleeding memories across both characters. CCQuackity gives us a story of 2 brothers who couldnt understand each other and grew apart until they forgot about the others existence. The story was about a boy who only spoke spanish and a boy who only spoke english. This was CCQuackity plan for his character. Quackity would speak only english and ElQ would speak only spanish. Realizing this was too hard for creators and viewers to remember which of himselves said something he dropped the 1 language each idea.

A conversation with Cellbit clarified a few things to the viewers and players who didnt understand this. But with very careful words, he still didnt clarify everything. He explains how he saw the issues with 2 monolingual characters and abandoned that idea. That we should not associate interactions and conversations based on language. That every english Q vs spanish Q theory should be abandoned.

Trying to further clarify, Cellbit asks if he has a brother. Quackity says no. But if we take the story of 2 brothers and change it from 2 monolingual boys who could not understand the others language, and change it to 2 bilingual brothers who didnt understand each other - not in language, but in personality, behavior, ect. , the story still fits. Their inability to understand each other drives them away until they forget the other exists. At least Quackity forgets.

CCQuackity says that qQuackity has been qQuackity since he first joined the server. He’s never been anyone else. True. Because qElQ has always been qElQ as well. ElQ is the same person we see join and leave the server until we see ElQ POV for the 2nd time and he has the exact same inventory as the 1st ElQ POV.

Confirming that the ElQ we met on Day 2 is still the same canonical person.

Quackity is aware enough in his conversation with Cellbit that there is someone else near him, another Quackity, but it wasnt this way to begin. When we see ElQ on Day 2, he interacts with people on the island he otherwise didnt know, since Quackity is who arrived with the group on Day 1, but he didnt need to introduce himself.

On Day 2 we see ElQ early in the day and Quackity later in the day. When Quackity joins on Day 2 he goes to visit Foolishs dragon and is having nearly the same interactions that ElQ had with Foolish only a few hours ago. ElQ seems to share memories to an extent with Quackity, while Quackity was unaware.

The things we are missing: Where did ElQ go? What happened between his reappearance and the day in the Federation?

The day we see ElQ for the 2nd time, with the matching inventory to Day2, his known servers are 2.

The day he meets with cucurucho in the Federation office, after Quackity has disappeared, his known servers are 8 with the last one seeming to spell “they’re back”. His inventory has also changed now.

ElQ return makes relationships very interesting. To my knowledge the only people ElQ interacted with on Day2 were Missa, Roier, Vegetta, Mariana, and Foolish. Early in his return, he only interacts with Foolish and Roier, two people he didnt seem to hate as much as the others.

When ElQ whispered “Buena suerte” to Roier on the day of final goodbyes with Bobby, mayve that was actually a sincere message and not an ominous one?

QUESTIONS:

Why didnt we need ElQ between Day 3 and the candidate announcements?

Were all the times he would log in and log off quickly, trying to push through being silenced by the federation. Until one day he had enough time to DM roier?

Did the federation take him into their custody between his first and 2nd appearance? His inventory changed between his 2nd and 3rd appearance. The 2nd he was outside with his Day2 inventory. The 3rd time we see him he is in the federation main offices, and seem familiar with who the federation is.

When and how did ElQ get to the island if he wasnt on a train with the rest of the group?

Exactly how is he involved with the federation?

#qsmp thoughts #qsmp theory #qsmp analysis #qsmp quackity #qsmp el quackity #qsmpblr

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weebsinstash · 1 year

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I saw one of post about Valentino and I was think that even though he has social media account but I think he would hate memes unless it hasvsomething sexual with it.

So seeing reader in lingerie, and forcing them to do that sad cat dancing meme with cat ear/tail and either post on his account or blackmail them not to post it.

I'm sorry your getting harrased by the kiddies and trying guilt trip you on someone else's actions,/consequences

Sometimes I think of kind of specific scenarios to write or at least share and I'm never sure what to post because I still kind of cringe at myself all the time lol

I've actually thought about social media stuff w Val like, quietly stalking all your photos or posts to see what you're up to when you're not around him, and I've also thought of the juicy possibility of like, what if this account was intended to be secret so you have a lot of personal stuff on there, ranging from you meeting up with friends to wearing cute outfits to hang out. It's such a deeper more candid and personal look into your life and things about you that he didn't know before and he's creepin for sure, maybe even creating another account to save and like all your posts in secret, or just screenshotting things

(Tbh an idea I keep having is, since he's a pimp that works in the adult film industry, he clearly isn't shy about watching others 'perform' and things like that, so imagine as a yandere he's of course one of those that saves tons of photos of you, and they don't even have to be sexual, although those are his favorites. Like imagine the Reader from the hidden camera room idea a while back just stumbling on to like Val's phone left open or a drawer of a desk in his office open when you go to drop off rent or he takes you to his house briefly to wait on him while he grabs sometjing he forgot and you stumble into like a closet with like a photo shrine on the wall, and this is how you find out 1) oh hes crazy and 2) there are cameras in your room)

Although that being said i constantly flip flop between "Valentino would happily watch other people wreck your holes for either punishment or his entertainment and or profit" versus "he's too possessive to stand sharing you either anyone else" and really, isn't both good. I've honestly been meaning to redo my fic Pet because I didn't like the end result and I like the idea of him using a leash. Because he's so tall he can't exactly pull you by the arm so a leash can pull you around and humiliate you, he probably has a fetish for that and seeing you all teary eyed and embarrassed 😩❤️

If he's openly following you he never likes or interacts with anything you post unless it's to mock or tease you in some way, like you'll post something about a thing you like and he'll just comment 'cringe' or something vaguely similar, kind of like how he speaks to Vox tbh. I also think of "what if Valentino forces you to spend time with him and it kind of backfires on him because you get along with Vox really well and makes him jealous" or it becomes some weird poly scenario where he is kind of excluded (at least by you, or maybe you hate both of them, friends with Vox initially but enemies after he turns on you and decides he wante you as more than a friend and is just as forceful as his boyfriend)

Like one idea I've had repeatedly is, Reader is doing her thing where she's kind of having to wait on the big boss hand and foot, and Vox is in a poor mood glued to his phone playing a phone game because there's a special event going on and it's gonna end soon and he wants all the loot, and at some point Val is taking a phonecall and Vox looks over and you're finally getting to sit down and, your phone makes a sudden sound effect and he KNOWS that sound, you're playing the exact same game. Valentino comes back and you're both just kind of shoulder to shoulder to show each other your phones and compare teams and equipment, i think its be neat if you both had some sort of unit or character or component the other was missing and thus have an incentive to okay together and just a cute coincidence, maybe you're even getting some tips from the self proclaimed master of media that you didn't know before.

I also still like the idea of "Val goes through your shit and sees your lingerie/walks in on you wearing lingerie" and he decides "oh thats some kid bullshit, let me show you some REAL hot girl shit" and suddenly you're being pressured/forced into wearing like, garters, crotchless panties, thin see through material that he can rip his long fingers through

Another idea is. Imagine Reader just being kind of the errand girl/personal assistant to him, and one day he's on a set and the main actress is late, and you know how he is with his money. He's got all these actors and camera crew paid for their time and they're missing the main lead? And then in walks you with Vals coffee or some benign shit he asked for and, a little voice in his head is like, hm, you're cute, you're around the same body type as the girl who was supposed to show up. Maybe they should just... switch genres a little, do some improv, amd work with what has been provided to them...

Also what if Val deliberately gave you like high end mascara that wasn't waterproof so that when he makes you cry or you cry while getting fucked you just have those big black tear stains. He's probably freaky like that, wanting lipstick rings on his dick n shit while taunting you and telling you you're a mess 😩❤️

#yandere stuff #sinprompts

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rainbowriderjt · 7 months

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See The Muslim Showing A Nazi Flag?? Why Do You Think That Is??

We were told that All the Jews want to take over the world, yet we are also told that all Jews are Marxist/Communists. So if that is true, than why are Jews advocating the death of Jews??

And here we have another left wing Marxist/Communist organization advocating to the same thing! Why is that?? The answer is clear! Fascism & the Nazis were NEVER right wing at all! This was a propaganda piece written by the socialist press in Europe after Hitler tried to screw Stalin (another socialist) in June of 1941! Prior to that they were both far left which is Total Government Control!

Hitler being a racist and a bigot was also a hypocrite! He allowed soldiers to fight in his army who were up to being 1/2 Jewish as long as they denounced their Jewish side! Up to 150,000

youtube

Oh and lets not forget about Ukraine! Why is it that there are all of these Nazis fighting for Ukraine especially since the president, Zelensky is Jewish?? Cause he doesn't care that he's Jewish! But the REAL Reason there are Nazis there is that they were there all the way back in WW2.

youtube

During the last phases of the Second World War, many Waffen SS divisions were created with recruits who fought against Russia after Hitler decided to screw Stalin in June of 1941. Near the end of the war, the Ukrainian division surrendered to the Americas, French & Canadians. After the fall of the USSR in 1989 a lot of soldiers went back to Ukraine. They had families and raised their kids and grandkids to be Nazis! This is why there are Nazis in Ukraine today!

Kluase Schwabs Father was a Nazi who owned and ran a weapons company for the Nazis which Hitler praised as the "National Socialist Model Company"! Later Klause joined the board of directors of that company! Now why would he join a Nazi company if he wasn't one himself?

Now We Have George Soros who collaborated with REAL Nazis back in WW2 to screw his own people over and thought is was one of the best times of his life! BOTH He and Schwab are the biggest funders of the Democrat party and have been fore a long time!

there were many Nazis and Communists in America even before the war ended!

This From A Socialist Fascist: The Socialist Party candidate for President of the US, Norman Mattoon Thomas, said this in a 1944 speech; "The American people will never knowingly adopt Socialism. But, under the name of "Liberalism", they will adopt every fragment of the socialist program, until one day America will be a Socialist nation, without knowing how it happened." He went on to state _"I no longer need to run as a Presidential candidate for the Socialist Party. The Democrat Party has adopted our platform."

This From A Communist: “When we get ready to take the United States, we will not take it under the labels of communism; we will not take it under the label of socialism. These labels are unpleasant to the American people, and have been speared too much. We will take the United States under labels we have made very lovable; we will take it under liberalism, under progressivism, under democracy. But, take it, we will.” - Alexander Trachtenberg (1885-1966) at the National Convention of Communist Parties, Madison Square Garden, 1944.

Gee! Both are saying the SAME THINGS!!! Oh speaking of Madison Square Gardens........

1939!

I can go on and on about this! Let's just cut the shit! The truth is The further left you go the MORE government you get and at 100% left you get Total Government Control! The further right you go the LESS government you get and at 100% right you get NO government!

Our forefathers were 90% far right because they had installed the minimalist government on the planet!

#Youtube

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roseofhybrids · 9 months

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With episode 6 on the horizon, thought I'd jot down some random Murder Drones thoughts I've had over the last few months. Mostly just get them out of my head by chucking them into the void.

So back in episode 3 Doll gets shot and survives with no long term damage that we can see. Just telekinesises the bullet out and her visor heals. Yeva also got shot in head by V, but Yeva was very much NOT fine after. So what happened for the solver to keep Doll alive after getting shot but not her mom? Current theories: 1. The solver was weaker in the older drones in some way. 2. At some point, the solver was turned off. 3. The solver isn't duplicated when passed down, but rather gets removed from the parent

Also, from episode 3. The missing drone posters show the murdered prom queen candidates and lists their ages. Of the 5 girls, 1 is 18, 2 are 19, and 2 are 20. Now, sometimes a school will have one prom instead of separate Junior and Senior proms, which can explain the 3-year age range. But also implies that the drones graduate at 20 instead of 18. Current theories: 1. These drones got held back 1-2 years for whatever reason. 2. Drones starts school later, or are in school longer than humans typically are. 3(mostly an addition to 2). College level schooling is compulsory for drones and the prom includes college level students.

With Khan calling Uzi's banishment a self grounding and Thad saying he didn't think the colony was serious about the "whole banishment thing." My first assumption was that the colony doesn't actually banish people, but that Uzi just kind of assumed that's what they'd do and so tried to beat them to it. This is a head canon I hold on to purely for its comedic value.

Uzi listens to an MCR ripoff/parody band. Now, the human MCR's initial run went from 2001-2013 and the show takes place 3071 or 1060 years after the 2010's. To put this in perspective, this is the same amount of time between the 2010's and 950's, smack dab in the Middle Ages. All of this to say, that time wise, Uzi listens to the future equivalent of bardcore

We see J refer to Tessa as boss and her parents as corporate in episode 5, which makes me wonder. In the pilot when she says that corporate wouldn't let her kill N (without a good reason) is she referring to JCJenson or to Tessa?

Speaking of J, while N and V now have Uzi as their admin, J should still have CYN as hers. A fact that I'm sure won't come back to bite them later

Depending on how you look at it, N, V, and assumedly J, have, in a way, died and come back twice now (thrice for J after getting blowup with the rail gun). The first time after the failed deactivation when they came back as zombie drones. The second time, when CYN decapitated them in the basement and presumably turned them into disassembly drones. It's hard to say how much of episode 5 is literal, since Uzi and CYN are both messing with stuff. But N's severed head does have the fatal error message, which implies the drones kinda died before being turned into robot vampires. Which is pretty in line for both zombies and vampires, so.

So we've seen CYN make holograms, mimic voices, and create the parts used to construct disassembly drones. We've also seen J get revived in a form identical to how she was before Uzi shot her. And CYN claimed to have back-ups of N when Tessa was worried about him being destroyed. That could just be referring to her resetting his memories inside of the "dream", but in the real world, she did have access to said memories and the ability to edit/delete them. Now, I'm not saying CYN's gonna make some evil clones, I'm just saying she may have the means to do so and has already proved she can and will mimic loved ones to trick people.

We know Uzi pirates anime, and possible some other Earth/human media? But how much can we say the drones (especially the younger ones) really know about Earth? Do the older drones bother teaching them about it in school? Maybe some of the main stuff, but there are a lot of small things that wouldn't mean much to a robot on a different planet. As such, I'd like to believe a lot Uzi's assumptions about what Earth is like are based on cartoons and anime.

#murder drones #murder drones ramblings

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grandhotelabyss · 2 years

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Sure, you could pay to read the New York Times, or take an extra minute out of your day to blow through their paywall, but for free[*] you could be getting the good information about John Stuart Mill that was just dropped at johnpistelli.com. There’s plenty of nuance in his almost legalistic prose, I promise you, as he heroically tried to synthesize the Enlightenment with Romanticism. An excerpt from my new essay:

How is the infrastructure of free speech to be erected and sustained? Through a proper education, one in which students are allowed to hear a diversity of views from those who hold them. Citing precedents in intellectual history from the Platonic dialogues (in which philosophy is conducted as an argument between multiple personae) to the legal practice of Cicero (who learned the opposing counsel’s case better than his own) to the process of Catholic canonization (which invites the “devil’s advocate” to speak against the candidate for sainthood), Mill argues that students must be prepared to defend their own positions against counterarguments they themselves are able to reconstruct from the inside: “He who knows only his own side of the case, knows little of that.” Otherwise, people will hold even their own opinions lazily, unfeelingly, and without really knowing why—a state of intellectual torpor that bodes ill for the polity.

Precisely the situation in which once-august and now-bathetic institutions like the Times sadly find themselves.

I don’t even know why I started reading or rereading On Liberty the other day, nor do I remember if I’d ever read the whole thing before or just excerpts in college. I do remember reading all of The Subjection of Women in a Western Civ class, and then answering a final essay exam question in the same class where I was invited to imagine and write out a debate between Mill and Hitler. I recall having some fun with the stage directions: “Mill lifts both eyebrows in startled alarm” and the like. The professor would no doubt be fired today.

Anyway, I think I went back to Mill because George Bernard Shaw had me wanting to revisit the Victorian sages (and indeed to expand my knowledge of some of them beyond the Norton Anthology)—nothing to do with the news. But current hegemonic left-liberalism has of course abandoned Mill’s liberal ideal of free speech without even seeming to understand its rationale—they appear as well to be in the process of abandoning any theory of mind whatever, ironically returning to a fully infantile state—so On Liberty remains pertinent.

Two things I didn’t get to discuss in my essay since I try to keep these things short enough for Goodreads:

1. Mill was a Malthusian who thought the state should seize control of breeding. He disfavored “a woman’s right to choose,” to use an obsolete phrase from my youth, to opposite effect as does the religious right today: he might not outlaw but mandate abortion, for generally eugenic reasons. This seems to me inconsistent with the broad principles of On Liberty and premised on a flawed and zero-sum idea of humanity’s relationship to nature and economics.

2. I quoted but did not elaborate on Mill’s beguiling sentence, “It may be better to be a John Knox than an Alcibiades, but it is better to be a Pericles than either.” I first encountered it before I ever read any Mill at all as the epigraph to James Wood’s paralyzingly eloquent essay against Thomas More, “A Man for One Season.” Wood’s idea is that More was no better than Knox, a religious sectarian, and therefore not a fit Periclean hero for a liberal, secular society. But is it really better to be John Knox than Alcibiades? It’s a case of two extremes, an unenviable choice. I confess I haven’t read any Thucydides since my first year of college, but I do recollect that Athens’s golden boy (and Socrates’s boy-toy) was an unreliable man, to say the least. Still, would I want to found Scottish Presbyterianism or hang out with Socrates? I swing sexually the other direction, but Al seems to have enjoyed primarily female company anyway, among all his wild and dangerous political intrigues. Wherever you come down, it’s certainly a thought-provoking sentence.

_________________________________

[*] While I have been “playing real good for free,” like the “one-man band by the quick-lunch stand” in the Joni-Mitchell-via-Lana-del-Rey ballad, if you like it and if you’re able, you might please send money or buy a book to keep the operations ongoing. Thank you!

#john stuart mill #liberalism #libertarianism #philosophy #political philosophy #victorian literature #english literature #literary criticism

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sassycherryblossomdetective · 2 years

Text

Evidence holds us together

Snipers nest part 2

Amelia had worked hard into the night, this job would be the death of her.

The next day wasn’t going to be any easier yet she wasn’t aware of this as she fell asleep just after half one.

Amelia woke up to two missed calls and four texts from the team. There had been another shooting. God. The idea of this sniper being anywhere at any moment made her tummy twist in the most uncomfortable feeling.

Waking up late resulted in her missing the chance to join the crime scene. Yet she didn’t let that get her down, after a quick trip to her local starbuck’s drive through she arrived at the Lyell. Jack had informed her through text that this was most likely a cover up, an attempt to distract the team from the death of Martin Cross.

The Lyell was quiet when she arrived, Clarissa was due in later. There was always an eerie silence when she sat in the building on her own. She shrugged it off and focused on sending her inquiry to the coroner.

When the team returned that late morning, Amelia had spent a lot of time thinking about the sniper and she agreed that Martin Cross was the main target.

Sliding away from her desk, she stretched and then headed to the room, where Jack and the detectives were talking. Making sure not to forget the folder of Shelia Cross’s hosprital records.

Jack looked up from the folder he was holding as Amelia walked in. She gave him a small smile and walked swiftly into the room. Cloud was pacing back and forth, DCI De Freitas stood facing Nikki with her arms folded. Wow, the tension in the room was thick. If only she brought her butter knife.

“We really think you need to focus back on Martin cross” Nikki stated.

Amelia placed her folder on the desk where Nikki was standing and turned to face the detectives.

Nikki was right.

This was the logical approach, the evidence was screaming at them.

The DCI shifted, “We just Canvassed his entire street!”

“Neighbors haven't got a bad thing to say about him” Cloud huffed mid pace.

Amelia inspected them both. They looked tired. Cloud wouldn’t meet her eye and he looked at Jack, ignoring Amelia completely. Amelia crossed her arms over her chest as he continued, “Did the barbecue at the annual street party blah, blah, blah”

The brunette narrowed her eyes at the detective, her mouth parting to interject.

Before she could say something that would threaten her job, Jack intervened. Glancing to the side she watched Jack carefully.

“These same neighbours that who didn’t report his domestic violence?” he said looking up from the folder he was holding.

“We can’t prove that”

Amelia interjected, stepping forward slightly “We pulled hospital records for Shelia Cross” She turned and reached for the folder she had brought in with her and begun flicking through the medical documents inside she glanced up at the DCI. “way more falls than a supposedly healthy forty one year old should typically sustain.” She looked towards cloud ”Her son Craig even broke his arm last christmas supposedly fulling off his bike”

DCI De Freitas shook her head, “Ok, Martin Cross may have been the most abusive husband and father in history- I still don’t have a suspect!” Amelia held the folder a little tighter.

She glanced over at Nikki as she ran a hand through her hair in frustration.

It was comforting to notice that Nikki mirrored her expression of discontent.

“Look, Sheila Cross is a recluse. Ok? “ Cloud stated. Amelia shook her head disagreeing straight away. Why could they understand that there was more to this?

“She’s got no brothers, no sisters, no friends to speak of, no secret lover-”

“Wow really Cloud? ” Amelia snapped, rolling her eyes in the process

“I’m pretty sure I’m seeing some big red flags here! ”

Cloud met her gaze and took a step closer to Amelia, she had definitely got his attention. He rose his voice, causing Amelia to flinch slightly.“Would you listen!” A flash of a memory caused her eyes to widen slightly. “There is no obvious candidate that would shed blood in her name.”

Who the hell did he think he was? Treating her as if she was some child?

Jack chucked the folder he was holding on the desk, the sound slicing the tension between the detective and forensic scientist. He looked up at the two from his chair, his expression was neutral yet there was something of a cold glare directed at older man. Simply he stated,

“Then we need to look closer”

Yet, Cloud and De Freitas were not listening.

De Freitas let out a frustrated sigh and looked away. “We’re taking the surveillance off her house”

There was a pause. A short brief pause. Ameila like to called them ‘Silence in the face of stupidity pauses ’ Unfortunately … they seemed to happen more and more.

Jack rose his eyebrow at the statement, Nikki gaped at De Freitas, Amelia … well Amelia was just about to hit the roof. Yet she was a professional, so she gripped her cardigan a little tighter.

“What?”

De Freitas continued her statement somewhat defensively, “We have too. “ She shrugged

”It’s all hands on deck until school’s out” The woman shrugged. She had the audacity to shrug her shoulders at them like it was some sort of game? Amelia took a deep breath, licking her lips slightly. “You can’t possibly begin to cover every school in London..” She stated.

This was just impossible.

“No,”De Freitas stated as she straightened up, “best we can do is a shortlist based on geographic profile”

Now that was something that made sense. Jack looked towards his two friends, sharing a look with Nikki.

“Ok” Nikki nodded, “we know someone who can help there”

*************************************************************************************************************

Soon after, Jack had headed off to visit Mrs Cross. He had mentioned about finding more information about Martins laptop and the situation within the Cross’s home.

Amelia was deep in thought as she returned from her lunch break. That poor kid, he must have been through so much. Glancing at her phone she realized it was almost time for the meeting they had scheduled.

She headed to the meeting room were Clarissa was setting up.

“Hiya” She smiled. “Hows things?”

Clarissa was fiddling with the remote for the screen. She looked up, “Hiya Amy. Nearly all set the others should be here in a second”

“That’s good! Oh! Got you a Kit Kat” Amelia smiled. She pulled it out her pocket and handed it to Clarissa. A warm smile was present on Clarissa’s face. “Thanks Amy, whatever would I do without my favorite forensic scientist”

“Oh!” She beamed, “ Don’t tell Jack your picking favorites now, he will get jealous” She winked at Clarissa as she sat down.

The others began coming into the room. Thomas was preoccupied with his phone, Nikki and De Freitas walked in side by side. Cloud and another man walked into the room quickly finishing their conversation and lastly Gabby strolled in.

Clarissa fired up the screen, as everyone took their seats.

“Okay, as we know, the victim dispersal suggests the sniper’s comfort zone is around the southwest corner of the M25” Clarissa stated seriously.

Cloud shifted from the corner of the room, “What if he knows all about comfort zones and decides to go somewhere else?” he asked.

“I’m not going to pretend otherwise these are my best educated guesses based on the evidence available” Clarissa replied.

De Freitas leaned forward “Also the intelligence we put out on the volvo could’ve caused him to dump it.” she look towards Cloud and the other detective and then at everyone else, “He could be on foot, on a bike, in a van. Assume nothing”

Cloud placed his hands on his hips and swayed slightly, “Well if you can kill from half a mile away, what chance have we got?”

De Freitas rose her eyebrows, “What of catching him? Not much, Deterring him is another story” She turned back to Clarissa as she continued.

“These four schools represent the most vulnerable locations, Camberley High school, St Arthur's Sunbury, St Benedict's Roman Catholic school, Epsom and Weybridge Primary school”

With that, the room cleared and everyone split up. The detective and the DCI went to one location, apparently Jack would join them on the way, Gabby and Cloud went too another. Thomas went out in a rush as well. Amelia was sure that one of the schools mentioned was one that his daughter went too.

Amelia stayed with Clarissa.

“I hope i’m right” Clarissa sighed.

Amelia stared off absently, picking at the nail on her thumb “Me too Clarissa, me too”

******************************************************************************************************

There had been no shooting. Relief flooded through Amelia. Whatever the sniper had planned, it meant they had time to think of strategy. Now they had a chance to get down to the real business. Jack had left Amelia and Clarissa the footage found in the cameras that were hidden in the smoke alarms.

It has taken them both a couple of hours and quiet a few caramel latte’s but Amelia and Clarissa had managed to get through all the footage. Once it was all properly tagged and filed, the two woman called over the rest of the team. ‘Here we go’ Amelia thought.

Amelia started to play the relevant footage once everyone had settled.

“Footage from Martin and Shelia’s bedroom is a non - event … almost” Clarissa said

The laptop screen showed Martin getting out of bed in a hurry.

“Look like he heard a noise. Suspecting burglar maybe ? “ Nikki asked.

Amelia shook her head alongside Clarissa, “False alarm”

“So he’s security conscious, Maybe a bit paranoid?”Thomas stated.

Jack folded his arms from behind Amelia and Clarissa, “If he was security conscious he’d have the lights and cameras on the outside”

Thomas frowned, “He doesn’t?”

Amelia shook her head” No he doesn’t”

“So could this be about the enemy within, not the enemy without?” Nikki asked.

She was right, Amelia thought. With no outside cameras being present on the property, it would seem that there sole purpose was to either manipulate through fear and control or to keep tabs on something. There was an evident theme of coercive control here but what was the connect to the sniper?

Amelia realized she had zoned out for a second missing what Jack and Nikki had said.

“No this is about control” Jack stated “This is about Martin Cross keeping tabs on his family while they slept.”

Amelia nodded, “I agree” Amelia clicked a few buttons on the keyboard bringing up the new footage, “This is Craig’s bedroom, we’ve seen nothing noteworthy so far.” She pointed at Craig on the screen, “The kid goes to bed, he goes to sleep and then he wakes up. As you can tell its riveting stuff”

“Oh yes!” she continued, as Craig woke up and got out of bed “go on Clarissa you noticed this”

“Yes, I forgot to mention but Craig does press ups during the night”

There was a silence for a second at the odd behavior.

“He’s a lot stronger than he looks” Nikki commented

“Martin Cross was about six foot, 190 pounds, there is no way Craig is a threat to him”

Thomas shook his head, “I don't get, whats this all about?”

No matter what angel they looked at it by, it just wasn't adding up.

******************************************************************************************************************

After a long day, Amelia rubbed her eyes She was now in a hall filled of people. Police meet ups were never really her thing, to be honest big meet up’s in general were never really her thing either. Yet being a apart of the forensic team on this case she needed to be present.

Luckily she noticed Gabby within the crowd, a relief. Someone nice to talk too. The situation in itself was horrid, so it was lovely to see a friendly face. Of course she wasn’t calling Nikki and Jack unfriendly - God that would be rude, imagine if someone could read her mind -

She stopped and took a deep breath and smiled at Gabby as she approached with Jack and Nikki. Big groups … man they messed with her mind.

A man started speaking, he was Chief superintendent Robert Drake. He was in charge of the whole operation. He explained how thankful he was that everyone was here. But a man started to argue with him. She shook her head, these things never went well.

“We’ve had over 300 possible sightings of the suspects “ Amelia blinked, reconsing Gabby’s voice. “None of them had stood up”

Nikki was about to say something when the voice of Craig Cross interrupted there conversation,

“Hello” He looked nervous, Amelia gave him a small smile from where she was standing between Gabby and Nikki.

Jack turned round, “Hey Craig”

“Hi, Nikki” Nikki nodded.

Craig smiled nervously at Nikki, “What do you do Nikki?”

Almost taken back by the question, Nikki stated she was a pathologist.

“So you cut up dead bodies for a living ?”

What a way of looking at it, Amelia thought.

“Yeah, thats about the size of it”

Amelia glazed around the room at all the people, she tugged a little at the sides of her top and then crossed her arms. Gabby had asked Craig something about his uncle, she wasn’t really paying attention. Her eyes hurt and her body ached. She needed to leave soon.

She glanced back and Nikki was no longer next too her. She was talking to a man.

“Are you okay Amelia?” Craig’s voice pulled her out of her head.

“Huh? Sorry?” Amelia said as she looked at Craig.

Craig crossed his arms, matching her body language. “You seem a little nervous?”

Amelia let out a little laugh, “I’m okay Craig, just not too good in big groups. Too many people, too much going on”

“Is the investigation going well? It seems you and Jack make a great forensic team!” Craig smiled … though the question was odd.

“You know I cannot share that information with you Craig but thank you! We are a good team.”

She glanced round and noticed that Jack had moved on as well. Damn, she was on her own. Little flashes of the past tried to fight there way into her mind. She focused her attention on Craig.

“How are you feeling though Craig?” They kid shrugged, “ It’s hard to come to terms with … “ He trailed off. He looked away.

There was a silence. She wasn’t good at this.

“Do you want to go outside?” Amelia shrugged, “ Get some air?”

Craig looked at her, eyes wide and a genuine smile beginning to form on his face.

“Yeah please, this place is suffocating”, with that Amelia led the way. It may have been the lack of sleep but for a second she felt a pange of unease.

******************************************************************************************************************

Nikki answered her phone, “ I can’t see him, I’ll call you back, thanks Thomas”

Nikki rushed to Jacks side. “Where’s Craig?”

Jack shrugged, “I don’t know? Last I saw he was with Amy? Why?”

“The hidden camera shows bullets in his bedside drawer” Nikki stated urgently.

“What thats impossible” Jack said as they rushed into the hallway.

“Why impossible?” Nikki countered.

“First the quality of that footage is abysmal. Second he’s sixteen - where the hell would he get the bullets from?”

Nikki approached the door, letting out a sigh of relief noticing Amy next to the boy.

“Lets find out” She said.

Before Jack could say anything, Nikki pushed open the door.

“Amy there you are!, we are going to make a move”

“Oh” Amelia’s eyes lit up, “ Okay no worries” She automatically reached for her car keys in her pocket.

“It’s a shame about your car and that flat tire, you will have to jump in with me and Jack” She continued.

… what? Amelia just stared at Nikki, confusion written all across her features.

“Craig, let us give you a lift home as well”

The kid nodded, “okay”

Nikki and Craig walked down the stairs towards the car park, while Amelia followed very confused.

What in the world got into Nikki? Her car was fine … before she could ask. Her phone beeped.

Jack: The camera footage shows bullets in Craig’s bedside drawer, apparently we are investigating ????.

She looked back at Jack in alarm. He shook his head and placed his hand on her back leading her out to the car park.

The car pulled up outside Craigs house. Nikki (somehow) managed to get Craig to allow them to come into his house.

The trio walked in behind Craig, the house felt strangely cold. As Amelia walked in the front room, she noticed the pictures of Craig hung on the wall. They looked pretty normal, normal family photos but for some reason her vibes were telling her that this was not a normal family.

Craig awkwardly stopped in the front room, while they all stood in silence.

Jack walked round Nikki and began to sit in the arm chair that faced the TV.

“Thats a nice-”

“No, no! That's Dad’s chair!” Craig suddenly shouted in alarm.

The group were concerned by this sudden reaction, Amelia raised an eyebrow at Jack.

“Sorry” Jack mumbled.

“So, are you going to make us some tea?” Nikki pressed.

Craig stood almost defensively in front of the kitchen,

“Sorry no milk” he said plainly.

Amelia could play this game, she stepped out from behind Nikki,

“Aw don’t worry kid, black tea is fine!” Amelia smiled at him.

He shrugged, “No tea bag’s”

Jack shook his head, “Don’t worry about it, we’ll be on our way” and with that Jack headed towards the door but Nikki wasn’t done.

The pathologist turned around and took in the pictures that hung on the wall behind her.

“You must have been very proud of your dad that day?” She mused while looking at the picture of Martin Cross .

“Of course I was?” Craig stated plainly.

“Or did you just feel … frustration?” Nikki continued. Amelia watched Craig carefully as his eyes widened slightly, Jack shook his head.

“Despair?”

“What?” Craig asked agitated, stepping forward towards Nikki.

Amelia stepped slightly in front of Nikki, directing the boys attention onto her. She didn't want Nikki to get hurt, plus she could handle a child

She continued for Nikki “The gap between the man the world saw and the man he really was, was wider than ever.

Craig looked at her with wide eyes, anger brewing within them. “I loved my dad!”

“Amy!” Jack warned, he couldn’t believe she was helping Nikki with this.

“So... why were you so scared just now when Jack tried to sit in his chair?” Amelia continued.

Craig scoffed, “I wasn’t scared” …. “ I wasn’t scared” he began to walk straight at Amelia “and certainly-”

Jack was suddenly behind Amelia, his hand stopping Craig from advancing any further while the other rested on the womans shoulder.

He gazed down sternly at her, “We are leaving now, come on”

With his hand still lingered on her shoulder as he guided her towards the door. An action that didn't go unnoticed.

Suddenly there was a thumping and coughing from upstairs.

Nikki being Nikki bolted straight for souce of the noise,

“No,no no! Your not going up there!” Craig followed swiftly behind, he pushed past Amelia and Jack .. “No!”

Once up the stairs, Craig rushed to Mrs Cross who was in the bathroom throwing up. He slammed the door shut, locking it.

“Mrs Cross, can we help?” Nikki asked through the door.

“No thanks!”

Nikki took this opportunity to enter Craigs bedroom, despite Jack's warnings. Jack followed her in.

“Are you sure Mrs Cross, I will happily help you if you need it?”

Amelia said through the door.

There was no response but the sound of Mrs Cross’s coughing.

Amelia bit her lip, frantically glazing between the two doors. One investigation member in a room without a warrant was odd, two meant they intended to go into the room … three, well that suggests they were definitely up to no good.

She kept her feet planted where she stood, the hallway was narrow. Mrs Cross coughed again and she could barely make out what Craig was mumbling to her.

She could hear Jack and Nikki’s hushed whispers from the next room. Taking a deep breath she hovered her hand over the bathroom door one more time.

“Craig is everythi-”

The door unlocked and forcefully opened. Amelia managed to back up quick enough to avoid the door from hitting her in the face. Craig pushed past her forcefully and stormed into his room.

“What are you doing?” she heard him say. Looking forward, Mrs Cross sat on the bathroom floor. She looked upset, so so upset. She slowly approached her.

“Mrs Cross, hello” she gave her an awkward smile. Mrs Cross just stared at her, almost looking through her. “Just checking if you are okay? I can grab you some water?”

She shook her head, standing up. “I need you to leave my house, you're not helping anyone from being here” she mumbled.

Ouch! She certainly didn’t expect that.

She, too, walked straight past Amelia and into Craigs room. Seconds after the team were heading out the door.

The night was cold but she was sure that the house she just left felt colder.

The following day, the team met to discuss the findings.

Nikki pulled up the CCTV footage from the smoke alarms.

“Craig keeps a hunting knife in his wardrobe, that could explain why his dad felt the need to put a hidden camera in his room” Nikki confidently explained.

Jack fidgeted from his chair. “I just - he’s 16. He’s at school, he can’t drive, he has no access to guns, nevermind taking a headshot at 200 yards”

Nikki shook her head, “Well obviously, if Craig is involved, he has an adult accomplice”

Thomas leant forward, “meaning he wasn’t necessarily present at all the shootings”

“That could be who he’s communicating with outside ?” Clarissa asked.

Amelia crossed her arms, “If anyone needed a friend it’s Craig, especially these past months”

The DCI looked towards her, “Why do you say that?”

She looked away for a second and then pointed towards Nikki, “Like Nikki is suggesting, it’s a classic cycle of violence, isn't it?”

Nikki continued, “Dad misses out on a job that he’s wanted for years. So his aggression reaches a new low point and he breaks his own son’s arm. Craig turns to mum but years of learned helplessness and drinking stopped her intervening”

Amelia nodded. “ Then his school work suffers, the kid won the chemistry prize three years running but not this year, his heart hardens. He decides he will never be a victim again.”

“So he adopts the only avoidable strategy available to a child, he spends as little time at home as possible”

Nikki continued, it seemed that the three woman were on the same wavelength. “And whatever emotional sustenance he got from his parents, he’s got to find from somewhere else”

Amelia glanced over at Jack, he was pulling a face that screamed this is complete rubbish.

Cloud interjected, “You mean someone else?”

Thomas nodded, “Two killers, explains why Martin’s death was so disorganized compared to the other victims”

Amelia stared off into the distance, she did this quiet often when she was beginning to find a case a little overwhelming. A buzz from her phone caught her attention. Jack eyed her from the other side of the room.

“Sorry everyone, I’ve got to run some blood.” She glanced at Thomas, “It’s the Richard’s case, they have apparently are having trouble with there equipment” Thomas nodded and she quickly left the room shaking her head in annoyance.

******************************************************************************************************************

Amelia sat at her desk, the Richards case was an independent job, taken by Thomas and passed to herself. A simple case. Man stabbed multiple times, yet the evidence collected by the forensic team of the department was very poor. The lyell had been asked to re run evidence in case of any forced contamination.

Amelia wanted to waste away. This was taking so long. She didn’t even know what the time was.

Jack walked into the room, urgency in his steps. He headed straight for the door. Finally some excitement.

“And where do you think your going Mr Hodgson?” She asked from across the room. Jack slowed down, glancing over his shoulder. “Cloud called, Craig wanted to speak with us” He smiled slightly and walked over to the coat rack. He picked up her coat.

“Apparently Craig especially wanted to talk to you, so I was going to grab your coat”

Ameila smiled. “Wow, quiet the gentleman you are Jack” He winked at her, causing a blush to form on her cheeks. She looked away from him and continued to type at her computer “Bold of you to assume I am not busy”

Jack let out a chuckle, “You were playing Candy crush about ten minuets ago, I am pretty sure thats a tell tale sign your bored Amy” She looked up at him eyes wide in confusion, her face slowly turning red. How did her know that?

Before she could even reply, he coat was shoved into her face. She let out sigh and snached it away from the irishman. Standing up she rose her eyebrows and poked him in the chest, “You better not tell Thomas”

Jack smiled down at her and tapped his nose and with that they were off the police station.

******************************************************************************************************************

The station was busy. Very busy. The two were guided to the room where Cloud and Craig were stationed. They had agreed in the car that Jack would do most of the talking and she was going to observe Craigs reactions.

As they approached, Jack squeezed her shoulder as if sensing her nerves. She gave him a small smile. Jack pushed open the door,

“Hey Craig”

Craig looked at him uncertainty, “Hi Jack”, Amelia followed suit and as she walked into the room the boys eyes lit up, “H-hi Amelia” She gave the boy smile,

“Hello Craig” She glanced around the room at Cloud, “We will be fine Jim”

There was that silence again and Jim left the room.

“So whats up “ Jack asked, Craig looked between the two. He obviously expected Ameila to ask. “Whats up?” he chuckled and then frowned, “Maybe …” He looked at Amelia, “Maybe I need to talk to someone”

Jack nodded as he continued, “I can’t burden my mum. She can’t cope as it is.”

Amelia smiled at Craig, “It’s alright, lets talk”

The universe had other plans though as the fire alarm suddenly blared through the room.

Amelia shook her head and turned to Jack, “They always have such rubbish timing”

“Typical” Jack said agitated.

They made their way outside in a haste. Craig has gone with Gabby. Amelia trying to keep an eye on Craig, lost Jack in the hustle of people. Stepping out into the car park Amelia saw Gabby again. A friendly face was always comforting in a state of panic.

“Gabby!” She turned and looked at Amelia and gave her a smile. “Sorry I was never that good at fire alarms, even at school” Amelia admitted bashfully as she continued to walk behind Gabby, stopping so she was facing the entrance to the police station. Not noticing the way Craigs eyes followed her movement.

Jack had lost Amelia in the crowd, he glanced around trying to find her.

“Don’t worry” Craig said with a smile, he nodded towards a group of people a couple yards ahead of the two, “She's there talking to Gabby” Jack saw her and let out a sigh of relief.

He looked at Craig and gave him a half smile “She’s not good with fire alarms or large groups of people apparently. ” He shook his head.

DCI defrantas let out a small sigh from behind the two.

“Honestly I was the same, it was just a paper fire from the toilet so nothing to worry about”

Jack nodded“That's a relief, do you know how long this will take?”

“Not that long, maybe half an hour?” The woman replied, sounding tired.

“That's okay then” Jack smiled “I was hoping to catch something for of lunch soon” Defrantas returned his smile.

“Oh you know, busy days. My youngest has got this new nanny she just doesn’t get on. I just want to go home and sort it all out”

While the DCI and forensic scientist spoke, Craig appeared behind Gabby.

Amelia moved to her left, eyeing him. Maybe it was paranoia from the fire alarm but he came out of no where.

“Good to see you again Gabby!” He said with a smile. He stood directly in front of Gabby, hands in his pocket. He looked towards Amelia and nodded “You too Amy!”

Amelia knitted her eyebrows together, since when did he start calling her Amy?

Gabby looked at Amelia in confusion.They shared the same look. Confusion.

“Err thanks” “Nice to see you too Craig”

There was a glint in his eye. “You look happy”

Gabby opened her mouth to reply -

BANG!

That's all Amelia heard. Then the world seemed to move in slow motion. There was a crack and Amelia was struck by something wet. She blinked. Suddenly Gabby wasn’t standing. She had fallen forward onto craig. She wasn’t moving. Amelia looked at Craig as she took a step back. He had blood all over his face, Gabby's blood. Screams erupted all around, people began rushing into the station. She couldn’t process them properly, all she could hear was a loud ringing noise. Craig lowered Gabby’s body to the ground. Blood was splattered all over Gabby’s face. Amelia was frozen. Staring at Gabby’s body she couldn’t breath. Gabby was dead.

Amelia brought a hand to her mouth and staggering back again, eyes widening. She felt herself fall backwards but a strong force yanked her forward. Jack. Jack had wrapped an arm around her shoulder and was dragging her to the police station. Defrantas was suddenly in front of her and she heard Jack shout at her. The words didn’t make sense, the ringing sound was too loud.

She felt Jack's arm urgently pull her into the police station and once they were safely inside the building, he let go and she felt cold. In an effort to gain support she leaned against the nearest wall. The blood on her hands left a red stain as she moved. Her eyes were glued on her bloodstained hands but her thoughts were back with Gabby.

To the other side of the room, Jack had grabbed Craig by the collar and shoved him into the wall. His knuckles were white as he refused to let him go. He looked the child dead in the eye.

“Who is he?” Jack shouted, his voice trembling with anger “What do you know?”

Not breaking eye contact Craig lent forward. A smirk formed on his lips.

“We played you like a tune" he whispered, Jack jolted, eyes wide.

He watched Craigs smirk drop slightly as his eyes drifted over Jack's shoulder "shame Gabby got in the way"

In the way?

Craigs eyes met Jack's again. This time Craigs was filled with malice, smirk forming on his lips yet again.

"Bullet was meant for her” he said plainly.

Jack paused, confused at his words. His grip loosened slightly as he glanced over his shoulder.

Amelia stood facing the wall, her breath was uneven as she continuously stared at the blood on her hands. She looked as if she was on the verge of a panic attack.

Jack's eyes widened as Craigs words hit him at one hundred miles per hour.

The bullet was meant to hit Amelia.

In a second Craig was pinned to the wall.

Jack was furious.

“Say that again!" He growled "Say that again!”

Craig screamed yet his eyes told a different story. Pride. He was proud of the destruction he had caused. In a second Jack was pushed away from the child.

Amelia turnt at the commotion, the loud sound breaking her train of thought. Craig was freaking out. Suddenly he stopped moving. He had fainted. The way he had collapsed revealed the scars the littered his body.

“Oh my god”

“Jesus the scars”

In an effort to help, the detectives picked Craig up and took him to another room to rest.

Jack stood silently, hands twitching slightly as he watched the child in disgust.

“J-Jack” A whimper broke him out of his trance and he turnt to see Amelia with her back against the wall. It had seemed that the shock was setting in. Her eyes were wide and glassy. Blood was splattered on the left side of her face, it was all on her clothes, on her hands.

“Gabby” she croaked and quietly took a deep breath fighting the tears that were rising rapidly.

Jack knelt down slowly, his hand brushing the stray hair out of Amelia's face and tucked them behind her ear.

The action gained Amelia's attention, her eyes moved to Jacks and then the realizations of what had just happened hit her like a ton of bricks.

Her hands started to shake. In fact her whole body began to shake.

“Oh my God, Gabby!” she breathed out, attempting to push past Jack. She had to get to Gabby, she was hurt … she, she was … dead.

Jacks hands gripped her shoulders, she couldn’t tell if it was to keep her in the police station or to keep him from falling over.

“Amelia,” he said sternly. “Take a deep breath for me” Although his voice was stern his eyes were filled with emotion.

She stared at him wide eyed, “We have to help Gabby”

The more she kept Jack's eye contact, the more she couldn’t contain her emotions.

“We - W-we H-have to help ..”

Tears began to stream down her face and Jack pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her. He rubbed her back. “It’s going to be alright,” He said.

Craigs words bounced around in his head. ‘The bullet was meant for her’

He hugged her a little tighter as his friend broke down in his arms.

“Everythings gonna be alright, Amy, I’m here.” He slowly rubbed her back “Your safe”

*************************************************************************************************************

Jack walked into the Lyell. His mind raced and he gritted his teeth. Amelia has been sent home and wasn’t due back in for a couple of days. She was being treated for shock. Thomas had driven her home.

When he walked into the office, Nikki was already in there watching the news.

Word traveled fast.

Sensing his arrival she glanced towards him. A sad smile on her lips.

“Is Amelia out of hospital?” Nikki asked softly. Jack came to stand next to her, leaning against the table.

“Yeah” he sighed, all emotion on his face had gone. “Thomas drove her home a couple of hours ago, he said she fell asleep in the car. The shock must have tired her out”

“What even happened?” Nikki asked. She was facing him now.

Jacks hands twitched. He looked away feeling the anger swell inside him and he gritted his teeth.

“I saw everything you and Amy saw, I saw the poor, grieving kid he wanted me to see and fell for it” he tightened his fists.

Jack looked up at Nikki who was taking in his words, “Gabby, she had two kids” he took a deep breath and stood up. Walking into the middle of the room, he repeated the words Craig had said.

“We played you like a tune." He quoted the boy venomously, he could almost laugh. " We played you like a tune”

Nikki shook her head, remaining silent.

“That wasn’t even it though, he said” Jack took a breath and gritted his teeth, these words were painful.

“He sat there and watched Amelia break down in delight and told me the bullet was meant for her”

Nikki’s eyes widened and she stepped forward towards him slightly “What? Are you saying planned to murder Ameila? ” A wave of nausea came over Nikki at the idea of loosing her friend. “Why her?”

Jack was almost ready to explode.

“I don’t know. That little prick, told me he was aiming at Amelia and he doesn’t even care that we know. He’s content with Gabby being collateral damage and openly threatens one of our own, certain that he’s going to walk away from it!” Jack turnt round and hit the wall with his fist.

There was a silence. He looked down unable to looked at Nikki.

He leant against the book case and let out a breath.

“Sorry”

*************************************************************************************************************

Amelia lay awake that night. She felt nothing. All she could see was Gabby’s body laying lifeless on the ground, a wave of nausea sent her flying to the bathroom. While in the bathroom she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her skin was pale, hair a mess. She covered her face and looked back into the mirror. Her eyes burned and she bit her lips in an attempt to stop them from trembling. It was all too much to contain. She cried until she couldn’t cry no more.

Jumping in the shower, she began to grow more and more angry. There was no way this bastard was going to get away with it. No way in hell that this was going to break her. By the time it was about half three, Amelia was on her third coffee and was prepared to take on the world. She was dressed in smart attire, her hair flowed over her shoulders. She was ready for war.

Thomas walked in to the Lyell at his usual time of half seven. Surprisingly the lights were already on. He knitted his eyebrows together. Walking through the door, he was greeted with the sound of furious key board clicking. Cautiously, he turned the corner.

“Amelia?" He was in disbelief. He had literally dropped her home six hours ago.

"Why on earth are you in so early, In fact why are you here working at at all?” Amelia didn't look at him. Thomas sighed putting down his bag. He sounded like her father.

"You've just been through a traumatic event Amelia, you need rest!"

This statement stopped Amelia from typing and she turned to look at him. Her eyes were bloodshot, she was pale. Yet her tone was sharp.

“I don’t know what your taking about Thomas, there's work to be done." She stood up and gesture to the room around her "Murderers to prove guilty. Evidence to process… Kids to put in prison " she mumbled her last sentence.

"We are the only people who are able to get those things done! Now if you will excuse me-" she grumbled

“What time have you been here since ?"

“Half four” she shrugged as she walked back in the direction of her computer.

Thomas's face was a picture. “Half what?”

Realizing there was not a lot he could do, he reluctantly left her too it.

Nikki and Jacked walked through the door about an hour later. As soon as they saw Amelia they froze. The events of the last day flashed across his mind. They was she shook in his arms. He couldn't shake it.

“Ameila ?” Nikki asked confused. Amelia looked over at the pair, her face blank. She eyed them both and then continued to work.

“What is gods name are you doing here?” Jack almost shouted as he walked towards her desk. “You’re meant to be at home recovering”

Amelia pulled her lips into a fine line and exhaled through her nose. She rolled her eyes at nothing in particular and turned back to her computer.

“Wow did I leave a record on? " she gasped sarcastically "Because I keep hearing the same things over and over ~"

"Amelia!"

With a frustrated sigh she spun round in her chair to face her friends, arms crossed over her chest.

“Guess what Jack? I went home and it didn’t really help. There's a sniper active and me laying in bed is not going to help" Jack and Nikki exchanged a look.

"So I came here to do my job, any questions. No. Good !"

She span back around and was about to start typing when Jack banged his hand onto the table in frustration. The action caused Amelia to flitch, her hands flew to her head and she look up at him eyes wide. "What the hell Jack?"

He stared down at her, regret forming in his eyes at his actions. He kept his voice steady.

“You need to go home” he stated. The two held strong eye contact for a couple if seconds, Amelia looked away.

“Mm no I don’t”

“Amy!”

Amelia let out a frustrated sign and she pushed her chair back again.

She walked passed him, making sure to bump his shoulder. She could not look Nikki in the eye either.

“Thomas I’ll be back in a moment, I’m going to get coffee”

She swiftly walked out the door and was down the corridor.

“Amelia!” God she hated when he called her by her full name. “Amelia!”

She stopped as his hand brushed her should her, motioning her body round to face him.

Standing up she was shorter than Jack but that didn’t matter.

Jack was about to say something but she cut him off.

“Look at me, I am alive!” Her voice was loud, she was pretty sure that the whole team could hear her. “Last night I came to the conclusion seven times that If I hadn't moved from the position I was in I would be dead.” She felt eyes start to swell ”The fact that I am standing here and Gabby isn’t, I can’t stop thinking about it and it makes me feel sick.”

She took a breath and lowered her voice “I will make this bastard pay, so Gabby’s children can see some justice. He thinks he is so smart, well obviously he hasn’t dealt with me!”

She ran a hand through her hair and stepped a couple steps backwards. “So I am going to get coffee, live my life to the fullest and we are going to send that kid to prison, so no one today is going to make me go home, do you understand!"

She turned away and walked out the door. Jack was left speechless. He nodded solemnly and returned to his desk.

*************************************************************************************************************

When Ameila returned, she felt a tug in the pit of her stomach. The team were only trying to look out for her. She pushed open the door, coffee in her other hand. Everyone seemed to be acting normal. Nikki was typing away at her computer, Jack seemed to be analyzing some evidence, Thomas sat in his office and Clarissa was working away as per usual.

She attempted a b-line straight to her desk yet after two steps she stopped and turned towards Nikki, Jack and Clarissa. She gently placed her coffee cup on a coaster on Nikki’s desk and smiled awkwardly at the trio. Nikki gently turned round and smiled at her. It was the type of smile that made her want to shrink into the ground. There was pity in her eyes but also understanding. Of course she had heard of the stories of events Nikki had been through while working throughout her career. She just needed to apologize.

“You alright Amy?” She asked concern lacing her voice. Alright wasn’t a word she could use how to describe how she felt yet she nodded, lips pulled into a fine line. She could bring herself to directly look at her as the flashes of memories plagued her brain. She licked her lips and took a breath.

“I-I … I’m sorry. The way I acted earlier was completely unprofessional” She looked over at Jack, “You guys have been through a lot, you don’t need me shouting at you.” She considered her next words carefully.

“I’ve seen death … i’ve just never danced with it before” Her eyes began to glass over.

“I just wanted to say that-”

“Amelia Rowelle what on earth are you apologizing for?”

She looked up at Clarissa, eyebrows furrowed, watching the woman shake her head.”Your emotions make you human and your just experiencing a lot right now. Darling take your time and we will get this kid” Clarissa gave her a warm smile.

Nikki stood up and embraced her in her arms. Her hug was tight, almost as if she were afraid that she would disappear at any moment.

“Yeah” Ameila mumbled into Nikki’s shoulder. She glanced over at Jack who winked at her, a small smile on his lips.

“Lets get him”

*************************************************************************************************************

Amelia spent the next couple of hours watching video footage of CCTV, attempting to place Craig at the right place, at the right time. Yet nothing was coming out of it.

She yawned, stretching her arms. It was 12.30pm. She had been awake since 1.30am, now the tiredness was getting to her.

She Logged off her computer. She said her goodbyes to the team and headed home for the day.

Her drive home was swift. By the time she blinked her key was in the door and she was safe. With the door slammed shut behind her she slowly sunk to the floor. She pressed the back of her head on the door and inhaled a shaky breath. Tears raced down her cheeks and she struggled to control her sobs. Flashes of Gabby’s face appeared in her mind. Her smile gone, her face covered in blood. Craigs face flashed in her mind for a second and thats all it took. Her fist slammed against the door behind her.

The sound echoed through her house. It sounded just as she felt. Empty.

*************************************************************************************************************

Later that night, Amelia sat on her sofa. She hadn’t really eaten, she felt exhausted but her body refused to sleep. A buzz from her phone broke her out of her thoughts.

NIKKI :)

She watched the phone ring for a couple of seconds, picking up the phone in a haze.

“Evening Nikki” She spoke softly. Her voice sounded croaky.

“Amy, hello. I need a favor” Nikki’s warmly said. “Come open the door”

The door?

“Wait? Are you outside my house?” She asked with her eyebrows furrowed.

Nikki laughed at the end of the line.

“Surprise? Hey Ja-”

“Hurray up its cold!” Jack whined.

“Jack your here too?” A grin grew on her face.

“Of course” He paused, “We are here under Clarissa’s instructions, since she said your her favourite. She was very clear we had to check up on you” Her eyes widened slightly in surprise and she let out a laugh and ended the call.

She headed for the door, opening it slowly. Before her stood Nikki and Jack. Nikki held a bag of chinese.

“Hungry?” She beamed and walked past her to the kitchen”

Jack followed, Shaking his head complaining how she had just hung up on him. He slowly came to a halt half way down the hall way as she locked the door.

He turned to face her and she looked up at him in confusion. His jokey persona replaced with a more serious vibe. Before she knew it he pulled her into a big hug. He held her tightly, placing his chin on the top of her head.

Amelia blushed at the sudden action, slowly she returned the hug. Her face was pressed against his chest. They stood there for a couple seconds in their embrace. It was comforting.

“We got him”

Eyes widening, She took in his words. They had got him to confess. There was justice for Gabby!

She stepped back. Her hands resting on his chest as she Looked up at him. She took in his smile and the glimmer in his eyes. He looked proud.

“Good” she spoke and pulled him back into a hug and he chuckled.

From the kitchen Nikki watched the two with a smile. She knew that for them their story was just beginning. She couldn't wait to see what the future held.

#silent witness #jack hodgson #fanfic

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mamun258 · 4 months

Text

Why should you change your position to product manager?

The epidemic has just been lifted after three years of lockdown, and the economic environment outside is very bad. Some people may ask why HE Tuber you dare to think about changing jobs or even changing jobs at this time?

At that time, I considered the following points:

With the emergence of Chat GPT and the gradual maturity of AIGC applications, there are concerns that designer positions will be replaced by artificial intelligence, and companies will face layoffs of designers due to cost savings, leading to anxiety about future career development;

In both work experiences, I clearly feel that within the company, the product manager’s status and career development prospects (salary, project bonus, promotion, project voice) are better than that of the designer;

Currently, I have not had a salary increase for 2 years (my performance has been good every year), and I am trying to increase my salary income by changing jobs;

As a designer, my career development has reached a bottleneck stage. I have no promotion or salary increase, and I have not established my own business influence and irreplaceability;

Expand your career path. There is more demand for product managers than designers in the market (small and medium-sized companies also recruit product managers). You can also give full play to your own design advantages. If necessary, you can work on product and design together.

3. Product Manager Interview

When I was preparing to find a job, I made two preparations. At the same time, I applied for the positions of UX designer and product manager on BOSS direct recruitment and the company's official website (just in case, a two-pronged approach).

The following mainly recalls things related to product managers.

The specific process of the product manager interview may vary depending on the company and position requirements, but generally speaking it is basically the same. The following is the interview process I have personally experienced:

Resume delivery: Submit your resume on the BOSS Direct Recruitment APP or the official corporate recruitment website;

HR or the person in charge of recruitment will contact you for initial communication: HR or the person in charge of recruitment will contact you for phone or online communication to understand your basic situation, work experience, skills and salary expectations, etc.;

Appointment interview: After telephone or online communication, if HR or the person in charge of recruitment feels that you meet the requirements, your resume will be sent to the business department for review. If the resume is passed, they will make an appointment with you for an interview with both parties;

Professional interview: Generally, the backbone/senior product manager of the business department will conduct an interview with you on past projects, mainly to examine your product planning capabilities, product execution and promotion capabilities, project experience, solution ideas, etc.;

Professional interview: Generally interviewed by the person in charge of the product line, usually called a quality interview, which is to understand your project experience, personal communication expression, and personal skills to determine your compatibility with the current business and corporate culture (overtime, stress resistance) ;

Salary negotiation: If you pass the professional interview, HR will call you to discuss salary, benefits and other related issues (you can strive for an increase of 1k on the monthly salary quoted by HR). Some HR will also talk to you about some previous issues in this round. After reaching an agreement on your experience (reasons for previous resignation, why you chose to come here, etc.), enter the offer stage;

Send an offer: If you pass all the interviews and are determined as the final candidate, HR will issue a formal offer to you and agree with you on the official entry report time, materials required for entry, etc.

Summary of professional interview process:

Self-introduction: Pay attention to clear, concise and concise expressions. Highlight your own professional capabilities and advantages in relation to the recruitment position requirements (for example, I have highlighted that in user experience design, I can empower product design and improve user experience);

Work/project introduction: When introducing the project, you first need to clarify the goals and background of the project, including the source, purpose and significance of the project, etc. You also need to highlight the results and value of the project. You can share the difficulties, challenges and solutions in the project. and the experience and lessons learned during the implementation process or project. If there is data support, you can focus on using data to support your own opinions;

Q&A: Before the interview, do in-depth research on the product. Understand the product's features, competitors, target users, etc., so that you can demonstrate your understanding and insight into the product. The core of a product manager is user-centered. When facing questions from the interviewer, emphasize your user-oriented thinking and understanding of user needs, and how you use user feedback to improve the product. Emphasize your communication and coordination skills and how you work with diverse teams to achieve common goals. Emphasize your project management experience from past projects, including the ability to develop plans, set milestones, and manage resources. As a product manager, you need to have the ability of innovative thinking and design thinking. Therefore, you need to emphasize your innovative thinking and design thinking abilities in the Q&A to better let the BOSS understand your abilities and qualities.

Professional interview questions (some questions are for reference only):

Why do you want to change careers to become a product manager?

Briefly introduce the products on your resume;

What should you do if there is a requirement during product development that must be postponed;

The sources of product manager’s needs and how you prioritize them;

What do you think is the most important thing for a product manager?

What is your work process as a product manager?

What's the biggest setback you've encountered while working on a project? how to solve it;

How do you rate yourself (what are your shortcomings) and what are your future plans;

Why did you leave your last company? Can you accept overtime?

Do you have any questions for me;

4. Successfully transferred to product manager

It took about a month from submission of resume to confirmation of offer.

From the beginning of the interview for the designer position to the interview for the product manager position with expectations, I also did a lot of homework and gained a lot of product-related professional knowledge. I think that I was able to successfully get the offer because of luck (the next employer did not dislike me for not having relevant work experience as a product manager) + my own hard work (when I usually do UX design, I pay great attention to my accumulation of product knowledge, such as daily browsing." The dual results of "Everyone is a Product Manager" website to learn related content).

The new job is also a challenge for myself, continuing to explore my career in a new field (new city, new business, new position). At the same time, it is also a blessing for me. I can have the opportunity to experience two different jobs, broaden my horizons, and enrich my life. To this end, I will also be fully prepared to meet a new starting point.

5. Summary

In fact, changing jobs is common for people in the workplace, and the value brought by changing careers can be large or small. If you have a good career plan, then changing careers is a step up the ladder for you. But if you don’t have a clear career plan, blindly following it is likely to destroy your career accidentally. At the same time, what I want to say is that opportunities are reserved for those who are prepared, instead of waiting for the opportunity to favor ourselves. For an opportunity, we need to do enough homework, enrich ourselves, and wait for the day when we accumulate more and more, so that we can seize the opportunity to prove ourselves and realize ourselves. goals and values.

I will continue to share content related to my current new job and my experience as a new product user later on. I look forward to your continued attention, thank you! Interested friends are also welcome to leave messages in the comment area to communicate with me.

Finally, I hope everyone can find the job they like, stay healthy and have smooth work in 2024!

#video #sharing #watch #upload

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mitigatingacademics · 6 months

Text

{11.07.23}

A little background information.

Our polling location has two VLMs -- Voting Location Managers.

When I worked my first election (at an elementary school approximately 25 minutes from where I live - they actually had assigned me closer to home and called 2 days before said election asking if I would be willing to work somewhere else [We'll pay you a bonus!] - I mean, I'd never done it before, it was all the same to me, so, sure) Shawn (who is a woman and always has the latest information on the most affordable fashion) and Paula (bringer of the cake to the potluck), both Democrats, were our VLMs.

That election, apparently, resulted in a change in majority in that precinct from Democrat to Republican which required a change in VLMs on party lines.

Among poll workers Republicans seem to be incredibly scarce county wide. Our location averages about 3 to 12, with maybe 1 or 2 Independents/Undeclared.

Nevertheless, last election, and this one as well, had Republican VLMs.

Why they're not bipartisan teams is beyond me. That's how everything else is done. It's got me wondering about the Rover teams as well. I might actually ask at my next training class.

They harp on bipartisan teams for everything - setting up machines, answering voter questions, etc., etc., which makes sense to a certain extent (speaking to a voter on your own opens you up to all kinds of potential of the voter accusing, truthfully or not, that you pressured them to vote in a particular way, etc.) but becomes incredibly impractical when every time a voter has a question about why the machine is telling them their ballot is incomplete (and in this case it was almost always because one of the races was a 'choose no more than 2' with only 1 candidate and 2 write-in slots...) and technically you're supposed to track down one of those rare Republicans and pull them off of whatever job they're currently doing before you explain that to the voter. Every. Time.

Sometimes you need that other party other half, though - like the time Renee and I were assisting a voter that asked about how to vote on Issue 1 - "I want a woman to be able to have a choice." The temptation to offer guidance can be real. I want to believe that I would have been just as motivated to see a 'pro-life' voter vote their beliefs (and also not help them any more than we're allowed), but having a counterpart is added assurance that we keep it real. We even got a chuckle afterwards - having completed his ballot, the voter asked us if we could tell him then if he'd made the correct selection...which of course we couldn't.

We are, at times, frustratingly good at our jobs. A lady at the last election (the illegal summer election with one issue on the ballot) more or less told me I was useless because I wouldn't explain the issue to her. That's not what we're there for, ma'am. Where have you been that you knew to show up to vote but hadn't already formed an opinion on the singular issue? The issue, by the way, that is full text taped to the wall over there, go read it if you'd like?

This election, someone asked me, with one of the local judicial contests on the screen, all of which were running unopposed, "how do we know if they're Republicans or Democrats?" ...that hasn't been listed on the ballots in YEARS. Google is the answer. Preferably researched before you come to vote, but, worst case scenario, on your phone right there in front of the screen. ...at least that's how *I* operate. When advising voters, it's just "that's no longer listed, if you don't wish to vote in a specific contest, hit next to proceed." 🤷🏻‍♀️

At one point I witnessed Paula take a partisan mailer out of a woman's hands and tell her she couldn't take that to the voting machine with her. ...I don't think that's accurate. I've taken many a Democratic slate to the polls personally. There are rules against displaying that kind of thing openly while waiting in line (and for good reason, I get an attitude that even best efforts can't prevent with customers at the real job that come in there wearing MAGA hats - we, at the polling place, support democracy and your right to make poor, end of life as we know it choices, but you're going to keep it to yourself) but the only reason any of us even saw that woman's mailer was because she dropped it while signing in. 🤷🏻‍♀️

ANY WAY...

Renee, a current, Republican majority VLM, is great. Even when Shawn and Paula were the VLMs at my first election, Renee was knowledgeable and useful. They've all been doing this for a long time and I have so much respect for the way they come together, regardless of who is in charge on any particular occasion to get things organized and make democracy happen.

Kevin, the other Republican VLM, is not so great. He wasn't fantastic last time and was even worse this time. I realize they're not spoiled for choice in terms of Republicans overall, but something needs to be done about Kevin.

Generally speaking, protocol is that a VLM is supposed to reach out to all poll workers of their location at some point during the weekend before the election to make sure they plan to show up for set-up, etc.

The reason I didn't hear from anyone until 4:15 Monday night (report time is 6:00pm) was because Kevin had the call sheet and Renee assumed that, given that he had the call sheet, he made the calls. He did not. I was going to show up, called or not. Nonetheless, something needs to be done about Kevin.

As seems to have become our tradition, I spent Monday night helping Maricela hang signs. She likes to partner with me for this because I'm 'tall.' ...I'm 5'5...but I'm taller than her. 🤣 I also think she likes me because I entertain her penchant for gossip. I've learned to like her, but it has been quite the experience. She makes absolutely no neverminds about who she goes after from anything about which side of the lot they park their car on to where they set their coffee or how they make a plate in the lunch area. I mostly listen to what she says so as not to become the next object of unanticipated rage. 🤣

I also made a new friend who, though I didn't know it at the time, is actually Paula's niece. She asked me if I knew where the restrooms were and as I directed her there, I advised her, having learned from my own experience, that said restrooms are designed for little people (being an elementary school and all) and to sit down carefully. We both laughed, but when she came back she thanked me for the warning. 🤣

Tuesday morning I helped Shawn open the DS 200s. By helped I mean I read and re-read aloud the instructions in the book until Shawn was able to make something happen. By DS 200s I mean the machines that Shawn would later direct a voter to referring to them as 'the upper echelon of the voting experience.' 🤣

We got the first one open (and by first one, I mean #2 because that's where we started...thankfully, it didn't matter 🤣) after a few false starts and expected the second one (#1) to go better...which it did, until the last steps which included printing several reports. It made a whirring sounds and the screen SAID it was printing the reports...but nothing came out.

Right at that very moment our Rovers arrived for their first visit of the day.

The male Rover, whose name I unfortunately never did catch because they were both FANTASTIC, produced a key much more efficient than the one Shawn had been trying and opened up a compartment we mere PEO peons had never seen let alone been trained on and had #1 spitting out every report we requested in less than a minute's time. BLESS. 🙌🏻

Before continuing on their rounds our wonderful Rovers made mention that we were doing better than the other locations they had visited. ...this may have been something they were telling everyone...and I wouldn't blame them, even if it was, because hearing it really did seem to provide a noticeable morale increase to a group of good folks doing their very best, very early in the morning on very little sleep.

A note about Rovers, I can appreciate how good Sandy and her DS 200 magician counterpart truly were because I've seen the job done...worse.

There was the time we ran out of stickers and had none for HOURS. Now, I acknowledge at least it wasn't ballots, but have you ever seen a full grown adult take time out of their day to perform their civic duty...and leave sad about a sticker? That's a travesty.

This time around we had so many stickers that I did not hesitate, when one man came in to vote with his two young daughters and handed his sticker to one of them, to step in with another for the other girl because "two stickers for two helpers." Paula even praised me for it. "Future voters of America!" 😊

It was that previous election that I learned that some companies give people time off to go vote and they use the stickers as proof that that's what they did with the time. ...I was so upset FOR those folks that I all but offered to take pictures of them in front of 'vote here' signs. 🤦🏻‍♀️

This time around we had everything we needed and then some. From actual ballot paper to name tag making materials that, mentioned Monday night and having been sure we'd have to wait until the next day to have our request refilled, I just stared when Sandy had it there within 5 minutes, "How many do you need?"

At one point Sandy's other half asked her if she wanted him to retrieve something from the car...and I still deeply regret that I never got to actually see said vehicle with my own eyes.

Mobile democracy. Y'all got extra red tags and blue seals? I know you've got surge protectors and Apple product charging cords. It's like the school store, but so much better.

When they roved in for their 3rd check of day around 3:30, I made a comment to a girl that I worked the last election with that, while kudos to these Rovers for doing a heck of a job...they couldn't compete in entertainment value with last election's female Rover who was not only not the nicest individual, but also literally wore bedroom slippers while offering criticism of us in front of voters. ...it's those kind of experiences that makes doing the job period, let alone doing it well, seem so worthy of praise.

One of the new workers brought what she referred to as "taco soup." It was too thick to be a soup, if you ask me, but it was incredibly tasty. Fixed up with the addition of the guac and chips another person brought? Heaven.

I was enjoying that when Maricela explained to Kevin that he needed to wash his hands after sneezing before touching the food. 🤦🏻‍♀️ Something needs to be done about Kevin.

Later, when Shawn got us Little Caesars Pizza, which is her thing, someone suggested she also get Crazy Bread this time. Amazing.

American Democracy, brought to you by carbohydrates. 🙌🏻

Hilariously (at least in my mind), I also like to claim that Adam (Kinzinger)'s book helped me get through the day after my feet started to ache to the point that sitting down was going to mean not getting back up again.

It was the only alternate entertainment I'd brought with me...and, honestly, I'd rather deal with angry (for no real reason) voters asking 'WHO'S IN CHARGE HERE' while Renee stood silently behind me waiting to see how it was going to play out (🤣) than read more hot take war stories. ... At least it's good for something, I guess. If Liz's book is equally disappointing I'll have to take a day off of work to deal with my emotions.

It was just past 7:30, we were officially closed, having made it through yet another election with only shut down / clean up protocol left to complete.

Renee, the other wing of my 'bi-partisan eagle' "we're better because of our differences" had been been planning for hours to approach our final duties with efficiency. Her blue tags were marked M (master) and A (accessory) and she'd assigned folks to duties based on who best kept who on track. I ended up reassigned 3 different times before the tasks actually began, but I was happy to do whatever was deemed most helpful as Renee, as different as we may be, and as much as she enjoys joking around, demonstrated an impressively respectable level of leadership.

As we began our end of day assignments I was exhausted but in good spirits until it was pointed out to me that Kevin had my personal election instruction book in his hand.

It had my name on it. We're instructed to put our names on them during training.

It wasn't that he had my book which was the problem. Had he asked, I would have gladly given it to him.

It was that he would have had to have gone INTO MY PURSE to get it. Maricela then informed me that she'd seen him looking through workers' belongings.

I tried so hard not to allow this to upset me. It had been a great day.

I WAS upset, though. There were others around as the situation developed and I knew I needed to say something. I asked him if he'd taken the book from my purse and he admitted that he had. Another worker, speaking up even before I could at that point, said that it's never alright to go into a woman's purse (or anyone's private belonging in this kind of situation, let's be real) without permission.

Kevin's excuse was, "Well, someone took mine."

Sir...

No one took his book. Everyone had been given one during training and there were at least 2 extras provided with the election materials during set-up. They were all over the place. Did he misplace his? Probably. Had someone else moved it? Possibly. Did it have his name on it? Probably not. He's not really one for following instructions. Did he absolutely, unequivocally miss the point here? Yes.

Someone took my book off of him and handed it to me. In the wildness of the situation, I don't even remember who.

Absolutely floored not by his lack of apology, but by his inability to comprehend why he'd been wrong, I didn't even offer to let him use the book if he needed it.

I went, then, to check my purse to make sure nothing else was missing. I didn't expect that there would be, and there wasn't as far as I could tell.

Exhausted to the point of feeling a little other worldly in response to the ridiculousness that had just transpired, I went to help Maricela take down signs, but I just couldn't let it go.

Even now, 2 days later, the thing that upsets me the most is the disrespect. It had been such a fun day. We'd managed to find ways to make the best of even the less pleasant situations. Our little precinct is not MY precinct as far as where I would be assigned to vote (I've been early voting for years), but the regulars there have BECOME my election family. I look forward to and enjoy working with them. This time around there were several new faces that I made sure to tell I expect to see them at the next one...the same way Shawn had done to me after my first election - because it's nice to know that your contribution is valued and your return is anticipated. As odd as the whole thing is, I feel a connection there...and that just made the transgression that much worse.

I felt like something had happened that couldn't be ignored, but at the same time I worried making it into an issue would result in more trouble than it was worth. What if I ended up getting reassigned? I still have concerns about that, honestly. I've been reassured numerous times that I'm not the one that was in the wrong...but there are multiple ways to solve a problem, right?

I found myself wandering around, peeling tape off of signs for several minutes, my mind elsewhere. I almost snapped at one of the other ladies when she asked, for the 3rd time, what to do with the election specific signs (text of issues and such) that were never going to be used again. If you don't know how to work sign crew, don't work sign crew! ...even though she was just trying to help, to pick up the slack I was creating with my lack of focus...and I had to remove myself from the situation.

I went to talk to Renee who was working machine crew. I asked her if reporting Kevin to the Rovers would cause issues for her. ...because as bad as Kevin is as a VLM, Renee is that much better. Something needs to be done about Kevin regardless, but not in a way that would cause problems for Renee. She'd been nowhere near that situation as it went down and her previous frustration with him had not gone unnoticed. If she had shown any hesitation I would have found another way. She didn't, though.

In all of my past experiences we've gotten everything shut down, signed out, put away and have to wait for the Rovers to come by one last time to release us. Ironically, in this case, they showed up maybe 5 minutes after I'd spoken to Renee.

Grateful for their hi-vis vests because I saw them before they entered our main area, I had to decide in that moment what I was going to do.

To be honest, I'm still not sure it was the right thing. I caught them right outside the door of the gymnasium and asked if I could speak to them before they came inside.

We were all exhausted and just wanted to go home. I have no doubt at all they felt the very same and the last thing they needed was another issue now, after the part that caused issues was supposed to be over. Had I not been so tired I might have cried. I feel emotional just thinking about it now...which is stupid, but also not because the part that hits the hardest isn't what went wrong, but the kindness that followed.

I didn't want to be a tattle-tale. I didn't want to create more work for them (especially considering the only reason I even felt comfortable reporting an issue to them was that they'd done the job better than anyone else I'd ever worked with). I didn't want my name on an incident report - in anyway shape or form...but Kevin is a problem and this was just the latest incidence, something that I had experienced personally and if I *didn't* say something, when the next thing inevitably happened, I would feel responsible for that as well.

I expressed as much of this as I could to these wonderful, civic minded individuals whom, no matter what they were getting paid, it's not enough, and they listened to me. They did not rush me out of the way to attend to more important things. They asked a few questions to better understand. I mentioned several times that while yes, I was upset on a personal level, my only real motivation in raising the issue to the next level was for there to be reconsideration in choosing VLMs for the next election. I understand that they don't have a lot of Republican options, but Kevin has demonstrated a a tendency towards bad decision making one too many times to continue in a position of leadership.

Our Rovers seemed to decide between themselves that a report would be necessary. I both didn't love that and felt relieved at the same time. I was grateful that they took me seriously. At one point the idea of calling Veronica (the Democrat of the pair responsible for the training classes at the BOE) directly (in the days following the election, at which point, despite her encouragement of our phone calls if we needed assistance at any time, I'm sure I would have lost my conviction and done nothing) had gone through my head - but that would have been going over Renee's head as well as the Rovers'. My respect for all 3 of them made that feel inappropriate. Sandy did ask about Renee's take on what had happened. Among those doing it right, there seems to be great regard for the chain of command and I wished to respect that as well.

Sandy actually put her arm around me and said, "I'm sorry that happened to you." I can't tell you what that meant to me - both that she cared and offered reassurance that saying something about it didn't make me the problem.

I went back to work then, trying my best to focus and be as useful as possible. The Rovers left a short while later. They made a general announcement while we were working thanking us for our efforts and saying they hoped to see us all in March. On their way out the door, Sandy turned, pointed at me, and was like "You take care." Bless.

I've only ever seen one Rover at multiple elections, but it just so happens that our little precinct is Sandy's personal voting location so odds are good I'll see her again at some point. Might need to ask in training if we're allowed to hug the voters. 🤣

After all the signage was taken down and the machines had been put away, those of us with nothing left to do while the accounting was being done have a noted history of 'wall sitting' while we wait to be dismissed.

I sat next to Maricela, reflecting on recent events. She shared with me information I hadn't realized - I thought Kevin had been an established regular working at the precinct when I started there. According to Maricela, who has been there since the dawn of democracy, that's not the case. She said, that in fact, my first time there was probably Kevin's first time as well. This did make me feel better about, if it would happen to come down to it, who has more of a claim on getting to stay at that location verses being assigned to another. Kevin might be a VLM, but he's a terrible one...which is the whole point, so. 🤷🏻‍♀️

When it came time to finish up the last of things, we all had to clock-out on the iPad as well as manually sign the daily sheet.

The woman who always works the provisional table has, in my opinion, a history of a terrible attitude towards others - not all the time, but enough that I generally give her a wide berth. She seems to get a pass from just about everyone, though, because she's good at the accounting, too. Along with provisionals, those are two things I have no intention of touching, so, respect for that. ...at least until she turned on Shawn.

We're just standing there in a makeshift line waiting to sign the paper (none of us could leave until everyone had signed, anyway) and for what seemed like no reason at all this woman is screaming at Shawn about 'this is ridiculous' etc. a little colorful language thrown in, then she says something that I hear way too often from the most obnoxious patrons at the real job 'if you don't let me do it next you're going to have to call an ambulance because I'm going to lose my mind' 🤨

Shawn was just sitting there letting this bounce off of her and she looks up at me as it appeared that my turn was next and she asks "Would you mind terribly if we allow her to go next?"

Not at all! 😐

...because and only because it seemed as if this would end the inexplicable insanity that Shawn was dealing with. Not that anyone would deserve that kind of treatment, but Shawn is so nice, a hard worker, consistent even tempered positive vibes.

We're all tired. Certain allowances and all. But don't come at Shawn like that. I didn't even need to hear the beginning of it to know it was misplaced.

After we'd gotten signed out new friend Lisa grabbed me and dragged me into the now deserted break area. I'd forgotten that she asked if she could pray with me before we left and I'd agreed.

I'm not a religious person so to speak, but I did grow up in the church and I liked Lisa a lot. I thought it was nice that she wanted to share something like that with me.

She prayed for the Lord to help me keep the conviction to become an attorney. ...it was at that point that I remembered that over lunch when she told me her 67 year old sister will be graduating with her RN next summer, I blurted out that I want to go to law school.

Election days are weird. I haven't even mentioned law school to my best friend.

Next, several of us helped Renee load her car with all of the things that needed to be returned to the BOE.

I have no idea where Kevin, who was, technically, equally as responsible for those things, had gone.

When we finally were making our final departure as a group Shawn said to me, as she had once before, "We'll see you next time, right?"

I said yes (BOE approval pending).

That locks me into the February LSAT.

All the better.

#Personal #Elections

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