#1. basic email. fine.

[exopelagic]

if I have to do one more thing on my own today someone is going to die

[mejomonster]

:/

I think about a query and a cover letter and how i need to look up what theyre called because i dont even know. Let alone know how to write them well and which things are required for what, and how i heard publishers only expect emails during calls for wubmissions so I dont know where to look for those but i also need to learn that from Somewhere i can learn such info. And how i know how to format a book for print, with mirrored margins and all the rest of that specific spacing stuff, but i have no idea the formatting requirements for a manuscript sent to a publisher (although hopefully that will be on their site as a style guide requirement directions and formatting IS something thankfully i'll be able to easily Look Up and Follow Directions to do). But the letter you send to pitch a novel and the length of manuscript expected (1 page? 1 chapter?) Or what kind of summary blurb they want, or if they want a summary or a "marketing blurb" that keeps some parts mysterious and enticing. And what's most frustrating, the reason i'm complaining, is when I look these things up the articles with advice do not say WHAT they are, basic requirements and basic expectations, it is IMPLIED the reader has as much familiarity with the definitions of these terms and when these items are needed as adults are expected to be familiar with job Resumes and standard Good Practice Format out of the gate. But with Resumes, high school and parents did provide some basic guideline directions and basic informafion like "include X, do not include Y, summarize Z" and "use keywords found in job description" and "keep it short such as one page or you may give a bad impression" and "do it in basic X fonts, basic colors, unless the job is particularly creative with unusual expectations of your resume" with similar directions about cover letters such as "state job you're applying for, summarize your education and some relevant experience, say you'd like the job and say why if you'd like, end with your contact information, keep it under a page ideally." I do not know the expected lengths of query letters, font expectations in the emails, if its an email or attachment, if it's submitted only during calls for submissions (i assume yes), how to find submission calls, what the title of the email should be, what the blurb length shpuld be and what it should Contain (summary? Marketing keywords? Your writing style or more technical key point information? Length/word count minimun and max? Should a summary be the whole main plot in a few key point sentences or be only the premise with the ending a mystery? Should it be entertainingly stylistic, or technical?) I look up requirements for publishing submissions and its so often expected the readers know what all these specific requirements and Norms in Writing them already are, so all the advice in the article is specialized like "you already KNOW what to submit, what the requirement is, now here's how to be Noticed Better." So it amounts to an equivalent to advice articles that do not state what a cover letter must contain or how to format it, but instead only focuses on specific ways of sounding more Convincing or Unique in your cover letter. Which is not super helpful if you... do not even know what a cover letter should contain to BE a correctly made cover letter to begin with.

[sophiamcdougall]

You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you.  I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age."  -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.  

[hells-wasabii]

could i request a drabble or headcanons for:

Vox with a reader (male, but can be gn if u want) who is also an overlord, and he is in business with Vox. He tends to annoy Vox allot, and is the type to push people’s buttons on purpose. He is also known for practically being nocturnal, so it’s very hard for Vox to get ahold of him for a business meeting.

Vox subconsciously had a crush on him, but denies it to himself, convinced he just finds him so annoying he must be confused. But one day, during a meeting with him, (which is in the middle of the day) he notices him nodding off. He is annoyed at first, but then suddenly the reader’s head falls against his shoulder….😱😱😱

I’m basically just asking for Vox’s reaction to reader falling asleep on his shoulder LOL, just added some backstory for fun :P

have a good day ^^

A/N: For this request i went with a drabble so i could play into the back story a little more, i hope that's alright! But i really like this prompt! can't go wrong with denial of feelings!

Character: Vox

Type: Drabble (Falling asleep on his shoulder, m!reader, Fluff)

You were late again.

You usually were when it came to your meetings, if you even showed up that is. Sometimes you couldn't help yourself. There was just something special about waking up to a slew of angry emails and voicemails.

Most times you were late just for the hell of it, wearing on the nerves of your host, but this time you really hadn't meant to.

It was common knowledge you were practically nocturnal, after all, you were the overlord associated with nightlife. Your body functioned on a different schedule than most demons.

The video demon hadn't actually expected you to come in for this meeting, he'd certainly been surprised to receive a confirmation email pop up on his screen right as the first rays of sun peaked through his window. Now it was-- the overlord checked the time on his phone again-- 1:12 p.m.. And you'd even set the time. Most of your meetings took place in the evening, sometime near sunset. A little earlier than when you would be waking up if he recalled correctly. Not that he actually cared enough to memorize your sleep schedule. He certainly didn't like you or anything thing, and anyone who said otherwise was a damn liar. That would be completely preposterous.

Especially seeing as to how you were the guy that pissed him off the most. Almost as if it was your fucking job to make him short-circuit and then keel over laughing about it. Just thinking about it made his screen heat up.

The door to the conference room burst open and there you were, huffing and puffing, grinning that insufferable smile of yours that you wore before fraying his wires.

"You're late, asshole." You opened your mouth, undoubtedly with some ridiculous excuse about having to help an old hag across the road, but Vox was quick to continue. "Let's get this over with."

To make matters worse, of all the places you could have sat in the conference room you just had to choose the one next to his. It was like you knew exactly what to do to push his buttons. But it was fine. Totally fine. Vox hoped beyond hope that you would take the meeting seriously at least.

And you did, thankfully. About 20 minutes had passed, the two of you discussing numbers and business. The video demon chanced a glance your way, a grumble in his chest when he notices you were starting to nod off.

Choosing to ignore it he continued on, moving on to the revenue of the project spread out before the both of you. Then suddenly, there was a thud against his shoulder.

There was no fucking way.

Sure enough, Vox cranes his neck and you're passed out on his shoulder.

Great. Just fucking great.

You were lucky you looked so peaceful or he would have shoved you off right then and there. That was what he told himself at least.

Vox does his best to stay still, but not too rigid. He stays there for what couldn't. have been longer than an hour before you finally wake back up. Not that he particularly minded, having taken the time to browse the ratings of his latest shows.

"Shit, sorry." You mumbled an apology as you straightened in your seat. Your eyes never left the other Overlord, looking for any reaction. This time might not be too great if he blew his lid. But you could've sworn he was blushing.

"It's fine," he grumbled, not meeting your eyes. "Just don't let it happen again."

You can't help the smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth. "Sure thing, pictureshow."

[bamsara]

A03 Questions Tag Game

I got tagged by: @kagedbird I tag: @onethirdofimpossible, @coffincrows, (first two that come to mind) and anyone else who wants to do the game

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

At the time of writing this post, currently 30 fics. (Not including any fics or written works that are not posted to AO3)

2 – What's your total AO3 word count?

1,066,633

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

Formerly: Don't Starve, FNAF, Dragons Dogma, Invader Zim

Currently: Cult of the Lamb

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

Solar Lunacy, Celestial Omens, Bytes of Lunacy, The Rehabilitation of Death, Saturday Insomnia

5 – Do you respond to comments?

I try to but I also get very nervous responding because I often don't know what to say back and I feel like it's almost rude or disrespectful to respond to a comment, esp the very nice ones that are long and in-deph with just a keysmash or a bunch of emojis, but I do read every single one since I have email notifications on for them

I'd like to sit down and respond to many but I really don't want to make it awkward so pls dear god readers forgive me

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't like unhappy endings. I enjoy angsty stories but I like when it's at least ending happy to me

7 – What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Not posted? Solar Lunacy

Ongoing? TROD

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

Not really? Most adults (in my experience) know the 'don't like don't read' rule and know basic online etiquette. I've gotten some for discontinuing a fic or switching fandoms though

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't write or draw NSFW! I like to make some suggestive themes sometimes, but I'm a very ace person, it's not something I do often. (I do have a current running goal that if my friend reaches their donation goal for their medical bills that I would give NSFW a shot, but again its not really my cup of tea)

10 – Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nah I haven't written any cross overs, but I do draw them sometimes. Recently I've been spinning a Alice in Wonderland x COTL crossover in my head.

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep. I've had people copy and paste my work, go in with a thesaurus to change a few words (like changing 'angry' to mad, 'upset' to 'sad', and so forth) to try and avoid detection and re-posted my written work under a different title name. AO3 staff took them down for violating their policy against plagiarism though

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I wouldn't mind it so as long as I'm asked before hand, though not on anon so I can actually work with the person to prevent any mistranslations or mishandling, and that I don't want my work posted to other websites

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

I think I did when I was a teen but I cannot remember now

14 – What's your all-time favorite ship?

Eh I don't have any favorites, just ones I really focus on for a long while

15 – What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Pass.

16 – What are your writing strengths?

I can sit down for hours or several days and work on a writing wip completely in the zone. I cant do it on command but its at least something I can do

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

Spelling and grammar, and sometimes long running sentences. I just kinda write, theres not really a goal for it to be perfect though so as long as the story gist and vibe is right, im fine with it

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done it before but only minor, had a friend help me with it (one or two lines of dialogue) Aside from that, I'm not comfortably fluent enough in anything to do it again without assistance

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

Soul Eater, when I was wayyy too young to be posting anything on the internet. My fanfics I wrote are still on fanfic.net to this day

20 – Favorite fic you've written?

It's inbetween TROD and EE&E right now

[neoraso]

end of a day | pwb

a/n: the people ask for wonbin and i provide.. this is basically just pure and never ending sickening fluff when he comes home from a schedule :D warnings: one instance of him calling the reader his gf. i didn't mean for this to happen but gets like 1% suggestive towards the end. literally nothing happens though just a little heated kissing hehet

you had woken up when wonbin did, your ears listening to him rustling around the room getting dressed. after a few minutes he came to your side of the bed, stroking your hair and moving it out of your face before leaning down to kiss your forehead. your eyes fluttered open at this and he looked back with a surprised expression,

"did i wake you up? I'm sorry baby. try to go back to sleep, I'll be back later." he petted your hair once more. before he could back away you reached out to grab his wrist.

"you're not leaving without giving me a goodbye kiss are you?" you said with a pout.

smiling, he leans back down while you strain your neck upwards to meet his mouth.

"i almost didn't want to because then i wouldn't be able to stop" he mumbled against your lips. leaving one more peck he turned to actually leave and chuckled at your whine. "i know baby, i don't want to leave either but i'll try to be back before you know it. maybe you can sleep for the next 14 hours."

"I can sure try." you grumble back. "but hey, good luck today, work hard, i love you."

as he shut the door he turned to peek his head out. "I love you more." he said with a bashful smile before shutting it fully.

looking at the clock it read 6:34 am. yeah, you were definitely going back to sleep.

you woke up a few hours later and decided you had nothing to do but keep up with business since it was your day off. wonbin pretty much never had a day off so when you weren't working, your days were often spent like this; just filling the time until he came back.

it wasn't like you didn't have a life, you had friends of course but your schedules didn't always match up- like today. and so, you were alone. it wasn't bad to be fair, you caught up on emails, cleaned the apartment (mostly), called your mom, yearned for your boyfriend, all in all a productive day.

wonbin had texted you a few times throughout the day when he could.

[7:10] hi baby, wish i was with you

[9:13] getting ready to film this interview, hope i look pretty for you. i think you'll enjoy watching it when it comes out, the mc's are really funny

[13:19] finally done. heading back to the building to practice. love and miss you soooooo much,

it was strange, you had been dating for almost a year but you wondered when would your heart stop fluttering at everything he did. every text, call, every touch, every kiss made you fall in love with him even more and you hoped he felt the same. 

it was getting close to 8pm which seemed like a good time to start dinner. you didn’t cook every night but you knew wonbin liked it when you did. he always worked so hard, it’s the least you could do. you decide on something  simple for tonight, soup and rice and some sides his mom had sent you.

you snapped a quick picture and sent it to him so he knew he had a meal waiting for him at home. 

perfect timing :) we’re about to wrap up. 

can’t wait to see you 

just as you were finishing plating everything for the two of you, you heard a key jangling the door knob, bringing a small smile to your face. you could hear him taking his shoes off and shuffling out of the walkway.

“where is my baby?” he called out.

“in the dining room!” you reply. he makes his way to you as you turn around meeting him halfway for an embrace. ”sorry, i’m sweaty..” he said sheepishly. after you patted his back to assure him it was fine, he held you to him and kissed your hair then pulled away to hold your face and kiss your nose then your lips more times than you could count. between kisses you tried to ask him if he wasn’t hungry, eventually he let go, “yeah actually. it smells so good, i’m starving.” he let you sit first, noticing your bowls were seated next to each other’s , he slyly scooted his chair closer to yours. after a few moments of silence with both of your mouths full, he turned to you. 

“how was your day? what did you get up to?” he said as he reached over to tuck your hair behind your ear. 

blushing, you reply, “well, mostly just waited for you to get back… but i did get some work done.” 

he frowned at this, “i don’t know if i can ever leave again. i missed you so much too.” he softly pinched your cheek and went back to eating. “this is delicious by the way, thank you so much. the guys went to  get food but i wanted to come home as soon as possible. they teased me a lot but it’s ok… i’d take anything for you.” he said the last part so quietly you almost missed it- luckily you didn’t. without making a big deal out of it you softly stroked his back and then his hair (which really was sweaty). 

“i’ll clean this up, you go get in the shower and relax.” you suggested

“can’t you come with me?” he asked with pleading eyes. 

“unfortunately, i already took a shower. but when i’m done with the dishes i’ll come in the bathroom ok?”

he looked back down at his soup and pursed his lips, clearly disappointed. you couldn’t help but laugh at his state. mirroring his earlier action you stroked his hair and tucked the strands that were falling into his eyes behind his ear. “tomorrow we can take a bath and i’ll use that bubble soap you like, does that sound good?”

he had to smile at this. “that sounds good, but i’m holding you to it.”

“i promise. finish your food so you can wash the day away.” 

he obeyed and you both finished your dinner quickly in a comfortable silence. 

he offered to help you with the dishes, but you shooed him away so he could get ready for bed sooner. it didn’t take you long anyway and you made it in time to get some sleeping clothes and a towel to meet him in the bathroom where you heard him singing. 

“what song is that?” you asked him casually, but then heard a bottle of something fall with a loud crash.

“oh my god y/n you scared me!! you move like a ghost, i didn’t even hear you come in!”

“oh my bad!” you said between laughs, you almost felt bad but it was also a little funny.

“it’s our new song though. don’t tell anyone.” he said as he turned the water off

before he got out, you softly told him “of course i won’t, but here, i brought you a towel and some clothes.” you handed him the towel while he was still in the shower and heard him give a small chuckle.

“babe, you’ve seen everything already, don’t act shy now.”

scoffing, you replied, “i was just trying to give you some privacy, sue me!”

he came out with the towel wrapped around his waist and gave you that smile you loved so much, the one that made you feel like your veins were disintegrating. he must’ve noticed your wide eyes that were trying to avoid the extensive amount of his bare skin showing because he laughed again and pulled you in for a kiss. you made a small noise of protest .

“wonbin! you’re all wet!” 

“oh, i didn’t notice” 

“move, we need to brush our teeth.” you said, still avoiding his half naked self.

you both moved to get your toothbrushes, but he took this opportunity of your proximity to slide a hand around your waist and kiss your temple. while you wanted to melt away , you pretended to be annoyed still, not saying anything. he kept a knowing smile on his lips the whole duration of your teeth brushing date in which he also linked your arms causing a very clunky experience, but you let it slide because you really were so weak for him. 

once you finished, you escaped his hold and walked to your bedroom so he could get dressed (he suggested you stay for that too, to which you declined with burning cheeks)

you only had to scroll laying on your bed for about two minutes before wonbin walked through the doorway, still with that grin on his face.

“what is so funny mister?” you asked with tight lips.

he came over to your side of the bed and sat down, carefully avoiding your feet but rested his hand on your calf, lightly squeezing the skin there. “oh nothing. you’re just really cute when you’re flustered. i like being the only one to make you blush. also, since i’m dry now, can i get some love?” he looked like a kicked puppy to where all your fake annoyance dissolved and you sat up to kiss his cheek. he turned his face to yours and whispered “you know that’s not enough.” 

pushing you down he caged you in between his arms, laying the rest of his body weight on you as he lightly rubbed his nose against yours before pressing his lips to you. 

he kissed you until you were breathless, your lips wet and puffy from where he had bitten them. as he leaned in again you put a hand on his chest. 

“wonbin…” you warned.

“don’t worry i’m not trying anything, i’ve just wanted to kiss you all day.”

“wow, this must be your dream come true then.” “this might be the best day of my life. maybe second to when you said you’d be my girlfriend.” he said with another kiss. 

“i would tease you if i wasn’t so in love with you” you retort as he pulls away, now leaving you wanting more. he noticed your pout and smirked “i’m just moving to where i’m not suffocating you.”

“i liked it though?” you admitted. 

“oh?” he replied as he crawled over you to his side, laying close to you with his head propped on one hand. He stroked your cheek with the other hand, brushing your hair away from your face. 

you were caught in the way he looked at you, always with so much adoration. it was obvious to anyone that saw you together (which they often told you) how intense your love seemed just in the way you looked at each other. holding his hand to your cheek he took it as his cue to lean down once more to your face. kissing your lips, your cheek, your forehead, anywhere he could reach. you wrapped your arms around his neck as he pressed his lips to your throat before going back to your lips and finally pulling away with a kiss to your cheek. rolling  just a bit over to where he was almost entirely on top of you, he mumbled into your chest “did i mention i missed you?”

heart swelling you replied, “you may have. are you so tired my baby?” he can only nod and deeply sigh. you almost coo at this and brought your hand to his hair, running the strands through your fingers and lightly massaging his scalp.

“don’t do that.” he grumbles, shocking you.

 “why not ??”

“because i will fall asleep and i want to stay awake and talk to you.”

“oh, well it's late bin, we should sleep anyway hm?”

“don’t wanna”

you resumed playing with his hair anyway and humming a ballad.

“you’re so mean…” he said sleepily, you could hear the tiredness taking over.

“i want to talk to you too but you need your rest. you had a busy day and we have tomorrow morning to be together.”

you only got a whine in response while he tucked his hand under your waist and tangled his legs with yours. 

“love you.” he managed to mutter.

you stretched to turn off the bedside lamp.

“love you more” you reply, hands slowing down in his hair as sleep took you over as well just as you heard him whisper something else.

“impossible.”

[apomaro-mellow]

Hot for Teacher(s) 2

Part 1 / AO3 Link

@babydollbaron I need you to know your tags basically changed the trajectory of this fic

In the mornings, Steve dropped Shawn off at the before care offered by the school and then went to work. Afterwards, Shawn took the school bus home and went over to a neighbor's house, Miss Robin, until his dad got home from work.

Because of this, Steve knew he would hardly have a reason to see Eddie outside school functions and conferences. Which was fine. It was totally fine. He absolutely was not spending nights thinking about those curls under his fingers. Whenever Shawn had a story from school to tell, he hung on every word. And it was only because these were the formative years of Shawn's life.

"Oh yeah, Mr. Munson asked about our practice and I got to tell him all about it", Shawn said.

Steve paused in his current task, which was the dishes while Shawn did his homework at the kitchen table. He knew exactly what his son was talking about.

"Oh? How'd that come up?"

"I told him about it before but I didn't get to tell him about it before Yasmin started crying. He asked me and I told him."

Steve currently taught middle school, but he'd had a little experience with the younger ones. When it got close to Shawn starting school, he did his best to make sure he was prepared. And to make things a little easier on whoever was teaching him. Steve tried to be subtle with his next words.

"Tell me more about Mr. Munson."

And then the floodgates opened. Mostly because it seemed Mr. Munson was very open about his personal life. Apparently, anytime the students had a question, he answered it. Just in this five minutes between drying the dishes and plating up dinner, Steve learned that Mr. Munson played guitar, loved the color red, played a game about dragons, and was single.

"Wait, how do you know he's not married?", Steve asked.

"Because Briana asked him and he said he's not married", Shawn answered easily.

---------------------

Steve tried not to think too hard about it. Mr. Munson being single didn't change anything. Not a single thing. But a really hot alpha who was unattached and also happened to be really good with kids who his kid loved was kind of the ultimate wet dream.

For Halloween, the students were allowed to come in costume and before the day was over, Steve's email was blessed with a collection of pictures of the class, including one where several superheroes, princesses, and even a kid dressed as Chucky defeated the mighty Munson dragon.

It was so cute that Steve had half a mind to send a reply that said so but second guessed it. He didn't need to tell Shawn's teacher it was a cute picture that was the whole reason he sent it. He had to keep all correspondence professional. But it was a picture of Shawn so he was well within his rights to save all of them to his phone.

"You ha~ve a cru~ush~", Robin sang on the phone. She was pulling some dino nuggets from the oven in preparation for Shawn coming over.

"Shut up, I don't!", Steve hissed on the other end. School had just ended but there would be a staff meeting in about five minutes. "I didn't tell you so you could make fun of me-"

"Come on, you knew it was coming-"

"I told you because I just had to tell someone." Steve sighed and took of his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "It's not creepy if he's Shawn's former teacher, right?"

"Steve, I'm gonna be honest, I don't think it's creepy now." Robin picked up one of the nuggets and chomped on it. "It's kind of crazy how we have dino nuggets and animal crackers but not the other way around."

"Please save that for Shawn when he gets there. What do you mean? Wouldn't it be weird?"

"You're both two grown adults. I don't see the harm in asking him out", Robin said.

Steve slouched in his chair behind his desk. "That's not the only fact here. There's the fact that he's teaching my son. If any of the other parents find out, they'll think I'm sleeping my son's way to the top."

"....In first grade? That would be pathetic."

"Most suburban gossip is, but you already know this. It's not me I'm worried about really, it's Shawn. Kids talk too and what if they make fun of him?"

"Oh no! My awesome dad is dating my awesome teacher! Whatever will I do?!", Robin wailed.

"He thinks we're awesome separately. There's no telling what he'll think of us together. And I...I don't want to give him false hope."

"Steve...when was the last time you went on a date?"

Steve let out a puff of air. "Does that one guy who ogled me a few years ago count?"

"Gross! Steve! No! Do you mean the guy who was just staring at you breast feeding?"

"Serves me right for doing it in public. And in shorts."

"Hey, no, there will be no slut-shaming in this household." Robin paused when she heard the door open and the bounding of feet. "Your gremlin is here."

"I think you mean my precious miracle from above. And you will treat him as such. My only gremlins are my sixth graders."

"Whatever. Just get your shipwreck together and decide what you want to do."

Turns out, Steve didn't have to wait long for an opportunity. Shawn had come home that day with a flyer for a Thanksgiving performance and was asking for parent volunteers.

---------------------

Eddie wasn't like, actively hoping that he would see Shawn's dad again. But when the fliers went home asking for volunteers, as well as an email, there was something going up. But it wasn't hope. It definitely wasn't hope. It couldn't possibly be hope. That way nothing could be dashed when nothing came of it.

So when he came into the auditorium after school, he was simply pleasantly surprised to see Mr. Harrington there. Not elated. Not ecstatic. Just appropriately pleased.

He greeted all the parents of his students, of which he only saw two others before coming to Mr. Harrington.

"Nice to see you again", he said with a handshake.

"And you as well", Mr. Harrington replied.

Eddie was sure he was imagining the electricity passing through their touch.

"Well, welcome to elementary theatre. Where we're gonna nurture any and all blossoming passions in the arts."

"Can't wait to see it. Um, so what exactly will they be doing?", Steve asked.

"The first grade class as the honor of doing a little song on what they're thankful for. Mrs. Clifford usually accompanies them by piano, but this year I'm hoping to get some more instrumentation for it."

"Oh, Shawn told me you play guitar."

Eddie's first instinct was to twirl his hair to hide his smile but it was still up in a bun, so he tried to fix his face to not be too obvious but he was sure it came out as a weird grimace.

"Yeah, yeah I do. Been playing for years. What about you, any instrumental skills?"

"None", Mr. Harrington shook his head. "My parents tried piano lessons, but I never took them for long. Just long enough to learn 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'."

"Everybody's got their talents. And no better place to showcase them", Eddie thrust his arms out around them.

"Well for now, I'm volunteering my time being a watchful eye and working on backgrounds and costumes. Plus snacks."

"Wait, did you bring the chips and sliders?", Eddie jutted a thumb toward the table near the stage.

Mr. Harrington shrugged. "It's just turkey and ham. And I know how ravenous kids can get."

"Are you guys talking about me?", Shawn asked, coming up to them.

Eddie watched the odd look on Mr. Harrington's face and was sure his must've looked similar. This was probably the longest he'd been talking to a parent without talking about their kid.

"I was just about to bow to your dad's culinary prowess", Eddie said. "Apparently, he made the snacks for this evening."

"I asked him to make his stuffing because, you know, Thanksgiving, but he said it was too early", Shawn said.

"I'm sure his stuffing is delicious", Eddie smiled down at him.

"You should come to our house and try it", Shawn beamed, leaning his head against his dad's hip.

Eddie looked back up at Mr. Harrington. "I'd love it if I could do that."

----------------------------

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

Steve was thankfully saved from replying to that by rehearsal starting and so Mr. Munson's attention was drawn away but seriously. What the fuck was that? Was that man inviting himself over to his house? Was it simple small talk? What was it all supposed to mean?

He was put on costume duty while the children practiced which kept his hands busy but not his brain, so he spent the next hour over thinking about that one line, which led to him overanalyzing the entire conversation. When practice ended, the teachers stood by the front entrance to wait for any parents that weren't already there or hadn't shown up toward the end to get their kids.

Mr. Munson waved off the last of his students just as Shawn finished in the bathroom and Steve helped him get his coat on. He looked hesitant before speaking up.

"Looks like you're my last one. I can walk you to your car if you want. It's pretty dark out."

Pretty dark was an understatement. It was near pitch black and the parking lot had bare minimum lighting. Steve definitely would've felt better about it if he had someone on the other side of Shawn.

"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks."

And without being told so, Mr. Munson put Shawn between them as they left the school and walked out into the parking lot. He gave a whistle once they got to Steve's BMW.

"Nice car."

"Thanks. She's been pretty faithful to me all these years." Steve unlocked the car and let Shawn into the backseat first. When he closed the door, he smiled at the alpha before him. "Thanks for walking us out.

"Consider it a routine then. At least until this place can afford to fully light up the lot."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." There must have been the tiniest bit of a lull in the conversation because suddenly Shawn piped up from inside the car.

"Dad, can we get tacos for dinner?"

Steve snapped out of whatever staring contest he was having with Mr. Munson and looked down affectionately at his son. "What? My casserole not good enough all of a sudden?" He opened the driver side door and got in, turning the ignition on.

With them safely in the car, Eddie went over to his van and got in, waiting until he saw Mr. Harrington pull out before going his own way.

Later that night, after putting Shawn to bed, Steve was left alone with his thoughts again as he graded papers using an answer key at the kitchen table. It was easy to let his mind drift into just how...how wonderful Mr. Munson seemed.

He bit his lip and squeezed his legs together. Mr. Munson was handsome, and charismatic, and so safe, so much the perfect alpha that he'd been led to believe didn't exist. He could protect him and his pup... and Steve could give him more pups...

Steve's hand drifted down between his legs and he let it stroke a few times before freezing and closing his grade book. Time for something more mentally stimulating.

"Guess I'm lesson planning tonight."

Part 3

Tag Team

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @hippieg1rl420

[goldenpinof]

the 2 regular tickets upgrade

i did talk to dnp about it, but then i got blessed during the intermission (i wasn't hounding anyone this time! it was very spontaneous, and it wasn't the merch crew, stop yelling at me), so here's a product of both interactions:

- the upgrade thing was sent out to the venues. they have all the information about the tickets, their holders, and everything;

- the venues select the winners and contact them via email;

- the selection happens a few days before the show (which is fine for the shows after September but very shady for the 1st leg because not everyone participates, basically);

- neither dnp nor their team have any control over this other than the brief they sent to the venues with basic "only general tickets" and etc. only general tickets, so no Silver VIP for sure. it's on the venues to do everything, and sometimes they make strange decisions. the Stockholm situation with the winners picked right before the show wasn't planned. the venue just didn't select anyone beforehand. the crew wasn't happy about it, lol;

- they will try to organise it differently/better for the US/Canada leg, because this was a bit chaotic. like, it worked but not the best.

note 1: i asked to put the terms on the website. not sure if it's gonna happen. i did try my best in the moment to explain why it's important for us to know the terms. and the person i was talking to during the intermission said that quite a few people ask about that ticket upgrade thing, so it would make sense to just put the info somewhere for people to see.

note 2: about the selection timeframe. it is weird, but that's what i was told. the venues live on their own planet, so idk if they actually selected everyone a few days before each show (minus Stockholm) or waited a bit more. in the USA, and further the plan is probably gonna be to stick to this timeframe. it's not a bad one, just doesn't suit the 1st leg since we could buy tickets on the days of the shows.

if i remember anything else about this, i'll update the post

[luvangelbreak]

Deprived | Eleven

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 matthew sturniolo x layla venita (female!oc) summary: everyone knows the story of the bad boy and the good girl but what happens when the school's most popular boy, Matthew Sturniolo, and the girl who notoriously is never there, Layla Venita, cross paths. warnings: swearing, suggestive? word count: 2.3k a/n: sorry this one is shorter than i wanted it to be but i have sm planned for this series y'all i’m COOKIN

pov: layla

"What?" I asked, scooping my first bite of ice cream out of the tub.

He shrugged, following my actions of taking a scoop of ice cream into his mouth before saying, "Twenty-one questions?"

"Are we in middle school?" I asked with an eyebrow raised and a small smile on my lips.

"Come on it's just so I can know more about you," he smiled at me and I rolled my eyes, scooping more ice cream into my mouth.

"Fine," I mumbled, swallowing the ice cream before I looked at him again, "You start since you wanna play so bad."

"What's your favourite food?" he asked as he placed another mouthful of ice cream in his mouth.

"Ramen noodles," I answered with a nod and he gave me a confused look, "What? They're cheap and they taste amazing."

"I was just expecting like pizza or sushi or something. Not ramen noodles," he chuckled as I shook my head.

"What's your favourite colour?" I asked, directing the conversation back to our little game.

"Blue," he answered quickly and I scoffed, "What?"

"That's such a basic answer. At least give me a specific shade of blue," I rolled my eyes playfully and he squinted his eyes at me.

Silence fell over us for a moment before he said, "The hoodie you wore to the game."

"What?" I asked, taking another scoop of ice cream into my mouth.

"The hoodie you wore to the game. That's my favourite shade of blue," he explained and I chewed on my bottom lip before he reached forward, pulling my bottom lip out of my teeth with his thumb before he mumbled, "You're gonna make yourself bleed again."

My eyes met his as he kept his hand under my chin and I felt my face heat up, my cheeks turning a light tint of red. I dropped my eyes back to the bed sheets in front of me and he pulled his hands away from my chin.

"It's your turn," I mumbled and he cleared his throat, leaning his back against the wall once again.

"Do you have any siblings?" he asked, resuming the game once more.

I nodded my head, placing my spoon in the middle of the tub of ice cream, "I have an older sister."

"How old is she?" he asked and I looked at him, making a fake serious face.

"It's not your turn, pretty boy," I deadpanned and he chuckled as he nodded, "Do you have a favourite parent?"

"No of course not," he shook his head, "I spend the most time with my dad but I love them both the same amount."

"That's cute," I let my smile peak through my lips as I bent my knees, pulling them towards my chest. His eyes flashed down to my thighs and I bit my lip, realising my shorts looked a lot shorter at this angle.

"How old is your sister?" he asked and I looked down at the bed sheets again.

"She's twenty-nine, eleven years older than me. I haven't seen her since I was 6," I shrugged, picking at the lint on the bedsheet.

"Why's that?" he asked cautiously and I leaned my cheek on my right knee, my face turned towards him as I spoke.

"She ran away. I talked to her through emails until I was 13 but my dad found out. She said for both of our safety it would just be better to not talk," I explained, a sad smile covering my face and his face softened as he looked at me.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, a comforting smile on his lips, "My brother is only 6 years older than us but he went to college when I was 12, he moved out for that and never came back. We only really see him on Christmas now."

"Are you close with him still?" I asked, chewing on my lip before grabbing my spoon from the tub and taking another scoop into my mouth.

He shrugged, following my actions before saying, "We try to talk but he works all the time."

"It's good that you still try," I shrugged and he smiled while nodding.

"What's your favourite subject in school?" he asked as I stabbed the spoon back in the tub.

"English," I responded, looking up to see him smirking at me, "It's the easiest subject. Don't get too cocky now."

He hummed in response, a smirk still evident on his lips, "Sure, sure."

My mind drifted to the night at Downs, my thoughts swirling with worry and I looked down at the covers before asking, "You know how we went to Downs?"

"Yeah?" he asked, a questioning tone underlying his words.

"Did I like... go too far?" I asked, my nervousness clearly showing as I refused to look at him.

"What do you mean?" he questioned and I sighed, feeling uncomfortable expressing my worry but for the sake of my sanity, I needed to know.

"Like, with the whole phone thing. I didn't, like, make you uncomfortable or anything?" I picked at the lint on the covers and I heard a chuckle emit from his mouth, making me look up at him.

"Were you thinking that this whole time?" he asked with a smile on his face and I shrugged in response, "I wouldn't have done it if it made me uncomfortable. It's fine."

"You sure?" I double-checked, chewing on my lip nervously and he leaned forward, pulling my lip out of my teeth again with his thumb.

"Positive," he nodded and I bit the inside of my cheek, hiding my smile, "Can I be honest?"

"Would be pissed if you weren't," I quipped and he smirked at me.

"I kinda liked it," he admitted and I raised my eyebrows, pulling my knees closer to my chest.

"You're such a guy," I rolled my eyes, ignoring the excitement in my stomach as he looked at me.

"I have a real guy question for you," he announced, placing his spoon in the ice cream tub, "What's your body count?"

"You've gotta be fucking with me," I giggled, shaking my head in disbelief, "Contrary to popular belief, it's zero."

"Wait, what?" he looked at me with genuine confusion and I smiled, nodding my head, "You've never..."

"Yes, Matthew. I've never had sex. I am a virgin. Any other way you want me to say it?" I blandly stated with a smile and he raised his eyebrows.

"Wow," he had a downturned smile on his lips.

"Why's that so shocking?" I asked, amusement still on my face.

"Just is," he shrugged, avoiding my gaze now and I squinted my eyes at him, "You're just very pretty. I can't imagine it would be hard for you to get with someone."

I felt heat creep onto my face and I looked down at my thighs, "Thanks but that's not really why I haven't done it."

"Why then?" he asked, his nosiness making me amused in a way.

"I've just never really been into physical touch shit. I don't even like when people hug me," I explained as I looked at him again.

"You seem fine when I hug you," he pointed out, a smirk on his face again.

"You're the exception to the rule I guess," I shrugged, a small smile on my lips, "I feel like it's only fair to ask what your body count is then."

"It's four," he answered shortly and I raised my eyebrows, "Two of them were girlfriends."

"And the other two?" I asked now being the nosy one.

"Random hookups I regret to this day," he replied honestly and I nodded, "Do you ever think about it?"

"Think about what?" I asked, letting my legs slide out in front of me

"Ya know..." he trailed off and I smirked, waiting for him to say it as I gave him a questioning look, "Doing it."

"Doing what?" I asked, an obvious smirk on my face now and he gave me a deadpanned look.

"Having sex. Ya happy now that I said it?" he asked with a roll of his eyes and I giggled, pulling my sleeves over my hands since the cold hair nipped at them.

"I am a human, Matthew. Of course I've thought about sex," I smiled at him with amusement and he shrugged his shoulders.

"You could be asexual for all I know," he stated and I shook my head.

"Nope," I answered quickly before I took a breath in and said quietly, "I am bi though."

"Oh that's dope," he nodded and I let my tense shoulders relax, "Why did you look so worried?"

"Because you're a straight man. I was expecting some sort of whack-ass comment," I told him honestly and he frowned.

"I'm a straight man but I'm not fucking weird," he replied and I nodded, looking down at my phone to see it was already 9:30 pm.

"You think they're done in the living room?" I asked, looking back up to him and he shrugged, quickly crawling off the end of the bed.

"I'll check," he walked out of the room, leaving his door open and I took that as an opportunity to look around his room. He had a few art pieces on the walls all of which related to either music or nature. His room was clean and organised, the complete opposite of mine. There were very few clothes on the floor, all of which looked like pyjamas.

I heard footsteps up the stairs before he reappeared at the door and I asked, "They there?"

He shook his head, picking up a few clothes off the ground, "Nah. I'm gonna go get changed in the bathroom. You want some sweats or something?"

"Uh, I can't really sleep in full pants. It's super uncomfortable," I gave him an apologetic smile and he opened one of his two wooden drawers, pulling something out before throwing it into my lap.

"That work?" he asked and I picked up the black shorts that looked like they would never fit Matt, not even sure they would fit me, "They're Allie's. She leaves her shit here all the time so I just keep it in my room."

"Yeah that should be fine, thanks," I nodded and he smiled, opening another drawer to throw me another item of clothing, this one significantly bigger than the shorts he'd given me.

"What are you gonna wear to school tomorrow if you sleep in your only shirt?" he asked, a smirk on his face and I pursed my lips before nodding. With that, he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

I quickly slid into the clothes he gave me, making a small pile of my clothes next to my bag and shoes. I grabbed my phone checking for any notifications but it was blank. With a sigh, I locked in again and there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," I called out and the door opened to reveal Matt now in a white wife-beater and blue plaid pyjama pants, "Allie is like half my size as you can see by the shorts."

I pointed to my thighs which were covered by the black shirt, hiding the fact that I was wearing shorts that could be mistaken for underwear and he gave me an apologetic, "I don't really have any comfortable shorts."

"It's fine. Your shirt's long enough," I shrugged, looking down at the white writing on the shirt which read 'Ransom', "Are their blankets and stuff on the couch?"

"Uh yeah," he answered, sounding confused as he threw his clothes on his gaming chair that was in front of his desk.

"Cool," I stood up and he frowned, moving to stand in front of the door.

"What do you mean 'cool'? I'm sleeping on the couch," he stated and I crossed my arms over my chest giving him an unimpressed look.

"I'm not letting you sleep on the couch, Matthew. Sleep in your own bed," I told him as I went to walk past him but he blocked me from walking into the hallway, shutting the door with his foot.

"I practically made you stay here. Sleep in the bed, Layls," he demanded and I shook my head.

"I'm not sleeping on the bed if you're sleeping on the couch," I told him stubbornly.

"You wanna sleep on the couch together or what?" he asked sarcastically but there was a small voice in the back of my head telling me that wasn't an awful idea.

"No. I want you to sleep in your own bed," I stated again.

"And I want you to sleep in my bed," he repeated and I huffed, pulling my hair out of its ponytail.

"Guess we're both sleeping in your bed then," I shrugged, walking back to the bed. He turned around to open the door and I spoke loudly, "You go down to that couch Matthew and I'm punching you in the nuts."

"Why are you so adamant about this?" he asked as he turned around to look at me again as I sat on the edge of the bed, ruffling my hair so it would sit on my shoulders better.

"Because," I shrugged, not really knowing why I cared about this so much, "I already feel like I'm intruding in your house. I would feel even worse if you had to sleep on the couch."

"I'm fine to sleep on the co-"

"Matthew," I cut him off, making him purse his lips and stare at me, "Get on the fucking bed."

"God, you're so stubborn," he mumbled, flicking off the lights before turning on his lamp that was on the bedside table. He plugged his phone into the charger before jumping past me to lie down on the side that was against the wall.

"I could say the same for you, pretty boy," I mumbled as I placed my phone next to his, not bothering to ask for a charger. I slid under the covers, the soft material gliding over my bare skin.

"You want a pillow here?" he asked making me turn to my left to see him holding a pillow in between us.

"Up to you," I shrugged and he hesitated before placing the pillow back behind his head.

A silence fell over us and the only sounds being heard were our breathing. I lay staring at the ceiling for a moment but I felt eyes on me. I didn't have to turn my head to know he was looking at me.

Instead, I just mumbled, "Go to sleep Matthew."

I heard him chuckle before he shifted to get under the covers and replied with, "Goodnight, Layls."

tags:

@ilovechrissturniolo1 @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @sturnfix @lilsstvrn @sturniololol

[sirfrogsworth]

So, the new lens is great. It takes beautiful pictures. And I am still brought to tears when I think about what an amazing gift this is. From a complete stranger, no less.

But there was some unexpected lens drama that kind of tarnished the excitement of this wonderful gift.

When I opened the lens initially, I noticed it was not in a retail box. It was still wrapped in plastic and that made it seem like it was new, but then I noticed there was no warranty card. Two red flags. Things that would be easily missed by a lot of people.

I was worried it was "gray market" which is a lens meant for another country. These can be imported cheaper but they will not have any warranty and if you try to get them repaired outside the intended country, manufacturers will often refuse to work on them.

I hooked up the lens to my computer so I could update the firmware. I also copied the serial number and sent it to Sigma to see if they had any info about the lens and if it was under warranty.

It was not gray market... but it was used.

Sigma's records show it being sold in 2018. Used lenses are fine. And they can be repaired in-country. But my gift giver did not pay for a used lens. Also, I wanted to get the lens focus calibrated. Sigma will calibrate the lens to my camera for free under warranty. Out of warranty, it would cost $100.

Maybe it was a mistake. They sent a used lens by accident perhaps. But then I found this review of the seller.

A pattern of behavior.

So this 3rd party Amazon seller basically committed fraud.

And this really upset me.

Amazon wouldn't let me message them directly due to it being a gift order. So I spent days talking to Amazon customer service and trying to figure out what to do. They asked if I wanted to file a complaint, but I told them no. I wanted to keep that option as leverage.

After some google-fu, I found the store's customer service email and wrote them a sternly worded message. I told them I wanted them to exchange the used lens for a new copy. I wanted them to promise never to sell anything used as new again. And if they did not comply, I would file a complaint and leave a 1 star review warning people not to do business with them.

That finally got their attention and I was emailed back promptly. They asked for pictures proving my claims. I sent them photos of the generic packaging and also this screen capture of my email from Sigma.

The good news... they agreed to exchange the lens.

But they did not acknowledge any wrongdoing and did not say they would no longer sell used lenses as new.

In any case, the matter should be resolved as long as they keep their word. But this all really bummed me out. I just wanted this one bit of joy to tide me over until I started feeling better. And I will have that joy soon. But all of the effort required to reclaim that joy is frustrating.

[hairstevington]

flowers and ink (part 1)

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve and Robin work at a flower shop together. One day, the pair decides to get matching tattoos at the place across the street. You can probably guess who their artist turns out to be. (requested by @thereindeerlady)

part two, part three, part four part five part six part seven part eight final part link to Ao3

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: This is just cute fluff, nothing too serious, modern day AU, Tattoo Artist!Eddie, platonic soulmates Steve and Robin, also I threw Bob Newby into the mix because I love him

A/N: I'm wrapping up the semester and am finally tackling my request list! Thank you for reading! :)

Robin applied to Flowers for All because a really pretty girl worked there and Robin needed a reason to go in and talk to her. 

She was hired, then the pretty girl promptly quit. Also, she was straight and engaged to a man. That was a huge bummer.

Still, the job stuck, and since they were down an employee…

“No,” Steve said when she brought it up.

“Please?” Robin begged. “Come on, you hate your job and it’s been forever since we worked together. It would be just like old times and -”

“Robin, we never used to get anything done when we worked together. We were terrible employees.”

That was true, but it did not deter Robin from her master plan. 

“Okay, well so far the only other applicant is the seventeen year old son of the owner who thinks the shop is actually a marijuana dispensary, and there’s no way I’m gonna work with that little twerp -”

“He didn’t take himself from the running when he found out you just sell literal flowers?” Steve asked, amused.

“I think he’s going to set up his own business in the back, honestly,” Robin sighed. “Please, I promise I’ll do everything and you can just hang out and -”

“Okay,” Steve said. 

“Wait, what?” 

Robin wasn’t anticipating he’d agree to it so quickly.

“I said okay. Sure. Fine. Where’s the application?” Steve took his phone from his pocket to find the Flowers for All website. He clicked on the “apply now” button and scrolled through the questions. 

There were basically no requirements. He just had to put in his name (Steve), education (high school), and any experience he’d had with flowers (none), and then boom, submitted. 

He got an email the next day to come in for an interview. Robin was assigned to be the interviewer.

He got the job. 

-

Eddie started as an apprentice for Ink About It when he was fresh out of high school. It was run by this dorky middle-aged man named Bob, who didn’t have any tattoos and initially seemed mismatched for the profession. Still, Bob was supportive and kind, and he let Eddie grow and thrive in the tattoo shop. He also happened to be amazing at working with clients and was a decent artist. Go figure. 

“Hey, Eds?” Bob asked as he tapped his knuckles on the door. Eddie was on his break, snacking on some chips while watching YouTube on his phone. 

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking of inviting Joyce’s son here sometime so he could see the place. He’s this great artist, and I think he’d love to meet you and see how we work here.”

“How old is he?” Eddie asked, his eyes still fixed to the screen. 

“He’s seventeen. Just about to graduate high school, can you believe it?”

Eddie didn’t really pay attention when Bob talked about his family. He probably should have listened more, but the man was just so dorky. 

“Okay,” Eddie agreed. He didn’t really want some kid in the shop snooping around, but it wasn’t really his decision. 

“Okay, great,” Bob replied with a smile. When he didn’t leave the room, Eddie knew he had more to say. He shut his phone off and turned to face his boss. “You see, uh. Will’s been having some trouble lately. Bullies and all that. He just came out, you know? And he’s a great kid. He’s so great, and some people at school are just - well, they’re bullies.”

Eddie didn’t really know where Bob was going with this. 

“That sucks,” Eddie acknowledged. “I remember when I came out, people said all kinds of shit - I mean, uh, stuff. Sorry.”

“That’s kinda why I’m telling you about it,” Bob said, shifting his weight on his feet nervously. “I think Will could really use someone on his side right now. Someone who really understands, you know?”

Ah. Eddie got it now. 

“Someone who’s gay,” he deduced. Bob knew that Eddie was gay, and he never cared or said anything about it, which was great. While he didn’t really want to be some motivational story about overcoming adversity in a hetero-normative society, he knew that Bob didn’t ask for much, and talking to a struggling kid seemed easy enough. “Okay, yeah. I’ll talk to him, if you want.”

“Great,” Bob said, breaking out into a smile. “You’re gonna love him. He’s a huge fan of that Dungeons and Dragons game, just like you.”

“Shit, really?” Eddie replied. “I mean - shoot. Sorry.”

“I never told you to stop cursing in front of me, Eddie,” Bob chuckled. “I know I may seem naïve and innocent, but I got into all kinds of trouble in my youth. You’re free to be whoever you want to be here, as long as you’re nice.”

He was just so wholesome it hurt. Eddie imagined the trouble Bob was referring to being something along the lines of sneaking a beer into a movie theater. It would probably break his heart to know some of the things Eddie had gotten into before he’d started working at this place. Maybe Wayne already told him, and he had just never said anything. Eddie certainly wasn’t gonna bring it up. 

“Hey Bob,” Eddie said. “Why did you start this job in the first place? Aren’t you this huge tech wizard?” Bob smiled warmly.

“Sure was. Bob the Brain, they used to call me. I still love a good puzzle, but life takes you to all kinds of places you don’t expect to go.”

“Yeah, but that seems like a pretty big career change,” Eddie continued. 

“Well, did you know this building used to be a RadioShack?” Bob asked. Eddie shook his head. “It was, and I used to work there. After it closed down, some artists tried to make it a tattoo parlor, but had no idea where to start. I stepped in as manager and they did the tattooing. I rebranded it, changed the name, and have been running it ever since. The rest of the story you’ve been around for.”

Bob was a great guy and a wonderful manager. He motivated Eddie to get his life together, and things had really leveled out for him just by having a stable job he enjoyed.

After their conversation, Eddie’s break was over, so he went back to work. He continued a design for a client who’d come in wanting a quarter sleeve, and then at 4pm he was scheduled to tattoo a bird on a guy’s shoulder blade. 

Overall, it was a normal day.

-

Robin knew every single plant and flower in the shop. She knew their names, their seasons, how to take care of them, and what they meant. 

She just happened to be really bad at keeping track of watering schedules, and tended to kill anything she touched. 

“Maybe I should work at a pet store,” Robin sighed, discouraged that the gardenias that had just come in had already wilted.

“What? Robin, why would you do that to the poor animals?” Steve replied, horrified. 

“Shut up, Harrington,” she snapped back. “Animals can tell me when they’re hungry.”

She looked sad, and Steve hated when she looked sad. 

“Aww, Robbie,” he said, jumping off the counter to put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I can help. If you tell me what to do, I can do it.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked. 

“Nope,” he responded confidently. “But they’re already dying, so it’s worth a shot, right?”

Steve actually turned out to be a natural at taking care of plants. He tended to be very good at looking after people, so it shouldn’t have been that surprising, but what was most shocking was how much he enjoyed it. Robin caught him talking to the flowers quite a bit. It was adorable. 

Ink About It was right across the street from Flowers for All. Steve and Robin stared at it every single shift through the front window. Neither of them remember who started the bit where they’d come up with weird matching tattoos they’d get with each other, but it became a staple every time they worked together. 

“Salt and pepper,” Robin greeted him as he walked in one day. 

“You’re pepper?”

“Obviously,” she responded with a smirk. They continued working, but it was a slow day. The ideas got progressively unhinged as the hours went by. 

“What about…” Robin wondered, her chin resting on her hand as she sat at the register. “You get my face and I get yours.” Steve chuckled. 

“Or we both get Harry Styles’ face.”

“Yes!” Robin’s face lit up as she laughed. “What about something flower themed?”

“Like what? A flower and a pot?” Steve proposed.

“Sure, you can be the pot,” she remarked. 

“What? Why am I the pot?”

“Because you smoke pot and I don’t,” she explained. Steve shook his head and scoffed. 

“Weak reason, Buckley, but fine. You’re the flower.” She smirked, pleased with herself, but then Steve added - “The flower is dead, though. For obvious reasons.”

“Steve!” She yelled, laughing. “Harsh, but fair.”

Their shift ended, but instead of going home, they went to the bar next door. They continued the bit until they were tipsy, and ended up arguing over who would be Bert and who would be Ernie. It got kind of heated. 

“Whatever!” Robin huffed, throwing her arms up. “It doesn’t matter, because you know I hate puppets. We’re not getting Bert and Ernie tattoos.”

“You’re acting like we’re actually going to do this,” Steve said as he sipped his beer. 

“I mean, if we find something we like, why not?”

“Why not?” Steve echoed. At first, he was going to give her all the reasons he could think of why they shouldn’t get tattoos together, but then he realized he didn’t have any reasons. “Uh, I guess you’re right. Okay, so no Bert and Ernie. What about Frog and Toad?”

“Are you just going through all the queer-coded best friends in children’s media, Steve?”

“Basically, yeah,” he replied, smirking. “Fuck, I’m Toad aren’t I?”

“I’m glad you said it and not me,” Robin replied. They sat in silence for a moment, coming to the same conclusion. 

“Uhh, so maybe that’s - Like, maybe that’s not such a bad idea,” Steve said. “Am I just buzzed, or -”

“No, I’m right there with you,” Robin responded. Of course she was, she always was. 

Before they knew it, they were stumbling towards Ink About It.

-

Eddie had just wrapped up his final appointment and was quietly working on other designs. Bob had left for the day, and sometimes Eddie stayed late just because it was a quiet place to be. 

It became less of a quiet place to work when two tipsy idiots stumbled in. 

“Hello!” The man greeted Eddie. “We would like tattoos, please!”

“Okay?” Eddie replied, confused. 

“He wants Toad and I want Frog. You know, from Frog and Toad are Friends?” The woman said. “Can you do that?” Eddie eyed them both and did his best to refrain from rolling his eyes.

“I can do whatever, pretty much,” Eddie replied. “Except, uh - I mean, do either of you have tattoos?” The pair shook their heads. “Do you know where you want them?”

“We didn’t get that far,” the man responded, prompting both of them to giggle.

“Right, okay,” Eddie said. “So, since you’ve clearly been drinking and this is your first tattoo, I’m gonna say it’s a no-go. Think about it, and come back tomorrow if you’re still interested.”

This kind of thing happened every so often, so Eddie was used to it. People never came back. They always came to their senses once they sobered up, and Eddie would never see them again. He figured it would be the same for these two. 

It wasn’t. They showed up again the next day. 

-

“We’ve thought about it!” The woman said as she walked into the shop. She dug into her bag and pulled out a picture. “This is what we want. Inside of the ankle.”

“Wow,” Eddie said as he looked at what they’d chosen, impressed. “I really didn’t expect you’d wanna go through with this.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” the man argued. “It’s an amazing idea.”

“Yeah,” the woman agreed. “And work’s been slow, and we’re bored, and this is not even close to the wildest thing we’ve done together.”

Eddie didn’t find spontaneous tattoos to be that wild in the first place. He was covered in them, and most of them were on-the-fly. Once you have a few, it gets easier and easier to add more. 

“Right,” Eddie said, wondering what the other wild things they’d done together were. He wondered if it was some sort of innuendo, like they were the kind of couple that secretly went to BDSM clubs or something like that. “Well, lucky for you, it's slow here today, too. Shall we?"

Eddie had them fill out paperwork while he got the stencil ready. He had adjusted their reference picture a little bit just to add his own flair, and after they approved it they were basically ready to go. It turned out their names were Steve and Robin. 

Eddie thought that Steve was kind of a stupid name, and didn’t match the pretty boy associated with it whatsoever. 

They didn’t even seem that nervous, which was baffling. Eddie figured there must be more to them than he had originally assumed. They were also a lot less annoying when they were sober. 

“So, who’s first?” Eddie asked, gesturing to the chair. 

“I’ll go,” Steve answered, raising his hand. Eddie put the stencil on his ankle and got final approval before they got started. 

“You ready?” Eddie asked, holding the tattoo needle in his hand. He waited for Steve to back out, but he nodded instead. “Okay. It’s gonna sting a little.”

“I have a pretty high pain tolerance,” Steve replied. Eddie tried to hide the smirk on his face. He’d heard that line before, many times. 

Eddie put the needle to the skin, and Steve didn’t so much as blink. Huh. Well, okay then.

Tattooing someone naturally involves a lack of personal space. It never bothered Eddie, because he tended to not think about personal space at any given moment, but some clients were a bit more hesitant than others. Ankle tats were thankfully not as intense as a rib or hip placements, but it did mean Eddie had to have a stranger’s foot close to his face, which wasn’t amazing. 

He wasn’t a foot guy. The man attached to the foot, however…

Eddie couldn’t help it. Steve was gorgeous. He also was charismatic, which was a quality that Eddie always appreciated and was attracted to. Steve chatted with Eddie during the whole 45 minutes he was being tattooed, and even made Eddie laugh a couple times.

Robin started to show her anxiety the moment it was her turn. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Steve reminded her. 

“Uh, of course I do!” she retorted. “This was my idea. You think I’m just going to let you have a loan toad on your ankle?” Steve and Eddie laughed. 

“I don’t mind. It came out pretty badass, thanks to Eddie.” Eddie smirked at the compliment. 

“If you can do it, I can do it. Come on, Eddie, let’s do this.”

She was shaking a little at first, so Steve pulled up a chair and held her hand. He asked her to start naming all the flowers they sold, and she did so rapidly. Eddie hadn’t heard of a lot of the plants she’d listed, and the list was unending. Ten minutes in, she eased into the process, and the rest went by without a hitch. 

Steve and Robin were really cute together. Eddie wasn't sure how long they'd been dating, but he wished them the best.

Steve left a sizable tip - like, an absurdly high tip - and then they were off. 

This time, Eddie was sure that would be the last he’d see of them. 

It wasn’t. 

(part 2)

__________________________

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[qqueenofhades]

coming from one of those "born in mid 2000s and is now suddenly an adult, making everyone feel old," people, do you have any resources to learn how to bullshit your way through getting a job with zero experience. cause i cant even put like "babysitting" or anything since covid prevented literally any teenage-typical jobs and i kinda dont know what to put on a resume beyond the university im currently attending and the high school i graduated from. and they still dont teach you this in school even though we've complained for years 😭

Okay my chilluns, listen up. This is how to bullshit your way into a basic 1-page resume even if you think you have absolutely dum-dum-diddlysquat to put on it. I completely feel you, as it's hard as hell to get a job even in the ordinary course of things, and especially when everything seems to want 10 years of experience and a bachelor's degree (and still pays like shit). But you gotta be persistent anyway. So here follows the step-by-step guide of How To Resume:

Open a new Word (or other word-processing software of your choice) document.

Pick a nice, professional-looking font (for the love of God, no Comic Sans). Times New Roman is fine; you don't have to overthink it. My own CV is currently in Perpetua, because it's a nice serif that looks crisp and a little different, but it is still clean and readable. Garamond or Cambria or other starter typefaces are fine too. Make sure it is the right size, usually around 12pt.

Put your full name at the top, centered, in BOLD CAPITALS. Increase the typeface size a few more points on this, to make it stand out and to make it take up space.

Underneath this, in regular-sized text, put your contact information: mailing address if you're comfortable sharing it, or if not, at least your phone number and email address. Use a school email if you have it, and not some weird/in-jokey personal email.

Start a new paragraph. In a slightly smaller font (italic if you want to make it look classy) write a few words about yourself. This should be something like I am a [Major] student at [University] looking for a part-time, entry-level position in [sales, retail, office, etc]. A [year] graduate of [High School] in [City, State], I am [prompt, reliable, detail-oriented, mature, friendly, etc] and a hard worker who is eager to gain experience and positively contribute to your business.

Start a new paragraph. Change the alignment from Center to Left. Create a new heading in bold underline labeled Education.

Under this, fill in your education (college first, followed by high school). Include the institution name, city, and state, the year you graduated or expect to graduate, any honors or awards, any extracurriculars, any grade-point averages if they're good (i.e. 3.0 and above), and your expected major in college.

Start a new paragraph. Create another heading: Experience.

This is where you put absolutely anything you can think of (in chronological order, most recent first and counting backward). Did you volunteer for something ever in your life? Put it down! (Title of work, dates, location, brief description of work). Did you do yard work for someone for a weekend? Put it down! Were you (or are you) part of a student club or organization in high school or university? Have you organized or taken part in any local initiatives in your community or neighborhood? Put it down! Basically, absolutely any kind of work, paid or unpaid, that might be relevant, regardless of how long it was or when it took place.

Under that, put the new heading/paragraph Skills and Interests.

Have you worked with Microsoft Word, Outlook, PowerPoint, Adobe, Photoshop? Put it down! People love that shit! Do you use social media and/or know how to work it better than the average grandma? Put 'er down! You get the idea. Think of anything in your daily life that can be put in Job Language and then see if you can do that. You are in university; do you have any projects, papers, or other things that you're proud of? Have you successfully managed a (gasp) group project? Do you make any kind of art? Are you a registered voter who has taken part in civic/political organizations, drives, or events? (If not, REGISTER TO VOTE! This is your angry grandmother speaking). All of that can go down. Even if it's not job experience per se, it's life experience and shows that you are someone who is engaged with the world and working to gain more.

Last paragraph and heading: References. Ask a few trusted adults who know you well and aren't related to you, such as a favorite high school teacher or a university faculty member/degree advisor, if they'd be willing to serve as referees. Put down their full names, titles/place of work, email addresses, and phone numbers.

Voila! You have a full page resume, probably even a little more if you're lucky. Proofread, make sure the spacing is even and the alignment is right, it doesn't look weird, the text is a consistent size, it's all the same color, there are no glaring typos or grammatical errors, etc. etc. Save it as a PDF.

Boom. Done. You are now a Job Hunting Maestro.

If you get an interview, you don't need to pretend that you have tons of experience or that you're something you're not, but you can present what you ARE in a positive light anyway. Don't apologize for yourself or play yourself down pre-emptively; be confident about yourself and what you can offer. You're a college kid looking for your first part-time job, COVID prevented you from a lot of normal teenage work experience, you're willing to work hard and learn new things. Here's your resume. What would be a good time to talk again.

Good luck! I believe in you.

[inkbyajm]

of kindling sparks

masterlist: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

tropes: fluff, slow-burn

warnings: 11 year age-gap (reader is 23, joel is 34)

word count: ~6000

author’s note: so this chapter as well as the next one basically serve as one long exposition before the main story (aka the prequel). i realise this is lengthy as hell but i needed to flesh out the relationship between joel and the reader for the upcoming chapters to hurt, you know?

(p.s. there's mention of joel carrying the reader. i know some people might be put off by this, but joel is quite buff. i mean the man works in construction, i promise he can handle carrying an adult for less than a minute)

————-　❈　————-

The air was getting chillier, the change of seasons not going unnoticed. (Y/N)'s focus was razor-sharp as she drove through the streets of Austin, making sure to take in the ever-changing leaves on the trees she passed by. As an exchange student, it wasn't cheap to be renting a car, and the money her parents were generously providing her could only last for so long. She desperately needed another source of income. Her prayers were answered the week prior when she stumbled upon an advertisement near the exit to her university. It was for a babysitting job with a decent pay and convenient working hours. She wrote an email to the address written on the poster:

Dear Mr. Miller, Is the babysitting job still available? I'm a student currently on an exchange program at the University of Texas. And while I haven't had prior experience in babysitting, I used to be an assistant teacher in a kindergarten. I'm very good with children and at keeping them alive (this is a joke, but I am pretty responsible, my mother can attest to this). If there is any need for it, I can also cook and clean up after each visit. Thank you for your consideration and I hope to hear from you soon!

Sincerely, (Y/N) (L/N)

To which, much to her surprise, she received an answer shortly after:

Dear Ms. (L/N), Yes, the babysitting job is still available. It's for my 12-year-old daughter Sarah. And while I appreciate all that you have to offer, there's nothing much to do but keep her alive, so your skill would be useful here. You can come by our house on 1411 Sullivan DR any day of the week after 5pm, we'll go over the details then. If you're still interested, you'll be able to start right away. See you soon!

Best regards, Joel Miller

After half-an-hour of driving, the house finally came into view. Just as she parked the car in the vacant driveway, and before she went to meet some stranger she hoped wouldn't turn out to be a creep, the girl gathered her wits and courage with a clasp of her hands, a deep breath, and a firm nod as if to say 'There's no going back now, and if I die, it is what it is'.

Her three knocks on the door were followed by a long pause which made her believe she had arrived either at the wrong time or the wrong house. But as she was about to turn around and flee in embarrassment, out came a middle-aged man with disheveled hair.

"Hello. Is this the Miller's house?"

"Yes, hi! I am so sorry I kept you waiting. (Y/N), right?" he said, wiping his hands on a rag.

"That's me."

"Great. I'd shake your hand, but mine are a bit dirty. Please, come in." he stepped out of the way to let her walk further into his home.

It was decently spacious and cozy, which temporarily put her at ease. They walked through the living room into the dimly lit kitchen. It smelled of spices and garlic.

He gestured around, "Welcome to our humble abode. Pardon the mess, I didn't exactly have time to tidy up," While it wasn't exactly messy, they could benefit from an extra set of hands. "You said you weren't from around here?"

"No, I'm quite a long way from home," (Y/N) said, taking a seat at the dining table. "I wanted to see other places, gain a bit of independence. Austin was one of the first to accept me, and since it seemed like a fine city to live in, I packed up my things and arrived at the beginning of summer."

"I'm Texas born and raised myself. Wouldn't dream of living anywhere else. How old are you exactly?"

"Twenty-three, sir."

He proceeded to rummage through the fridge that was almost full. "Alright. Would you like a beer, then? And please, call me Joel. You're making me feel old."

"Right, Joel. And sure, I'll have one if you do."

Joel handed her a cold bottle as he sat down across from her. She was familiar with the brand, they served it at the bar she worked at part-time on weekends. For the next hour-and-a-half, the two discussed (Y/N)'s life, her studies, Joel's job as a contractor, and Sarah. At some point, the attacks on 9/11 came up, unpacking the nation-wide terror they had brought. She recalled the panicked calls she received from her parents, begging her to come home. She had to explain that she was alright, that there was nothing to do about it now, and that she couldn't leave the city when she had already formed ties and taken on responsibilities.

Just as Joel was getting into another anecdote from Sarah's childhood, they heard keys jangling in the front door as it opened and shut.

"Speak of the devil. Done playing already?"

A soft voice rang through the house, "Yeah, I'm really tired." Then a pigtailed girl stopped abruptly at the entrance to the kitchen. She was wearing a soccer kit, carrying both a purple backpack as well as a blue duffel bag.

"Sarah, this is (Y/N). She's gonna be your nanny from now on."

The little girl hesitated at first, then gently approached the table and extended her small hand for her to shake. "Nice to meet you." she said with as much courage as she could muster, earning a smile in return.

Getting up from his seat, Joel kissed his daughter's head and told her food was ready, which prompted the child to run upstairs to her room. Feeling like it was her cue to leave, (Y/N) followed suit and slung her bag on her shoulder.

"Would you like to stay for dinner? I'm not much of a chef, but I have to admit I make a mean chili." said the man, pointing at the steaming pot on the stovetop.

The smell of a homemade meal was making her mouth water, but she hadn't known them for long enough to get comfortable. "Thank you for your hospitality, but I should really get going. I have some reading to finish before morning."

The two made their way back to the front door. "Alright, then. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, yeah?"

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Miller- Joel, sorry." she corrected herself, waving him goodbye as she swiftly got into her car and began the drive back to her apartment. She hadn't even begun the job, yet (Y/N) couldn't help but feel giddy about her small success.

————-　❈　————-

A couple of months had passed and (Y/N) was really enjoying her new gig. Sarah turned out to be the sweetest girl the young woman had ever had the pleasure of knowing. She wasn't fussy or troublesome, was very well-mannered, oh-so-friendly and kind, and a fan of using sarcasm here and there, which seemed to be something she picked up from her father. Joel, too, was accommodating to the new addition of their little family. (Y/N) could sense, however, that he was somewhat more reserved - closed, even. It was harder to get to know her employer, but she didn't mind, these things took time.

Leaning against her car, the young woman read her copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' for the 4th or 5th time. Something about it brought her great comfort, especially during the colder months. The festive season was quickly approaching and she wasn't sure if gifts would be appropriate so early-on in her employment. She had zoned out for so long, she didn't have time to register her name being called nor a pair of arms swiftly wrapping around her waist.

"Hey, kiddo." she laughed, hugging the curly-haired girl back.

She let go and stared up at her babysitter with her big round eyes. "Did daddy send you to pick me up?"

"No, I just finished classes and thought I'd swing by."

"What are you reading?"

(Y/N) turned the book to show the cover, "Pride and Prejudice. It's an old book."

"What's it about?"

"Uh- well, it's about a lot of things, but mainly it's the story of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy who have to overcome their differences to end up together. Hence the title."

"That sounds kind of interesting."

"Yeah, but it takes a lot of hatred and pettiness to get there."

The little girl shook her head in disapproval, "Adults. Why do they have to complicate things?"

"Alright, wise one. Get in before you get cold."

The car ride gave them more time to bond. They sang to Sarah's favourite songs and talked about whatever was on the little genius's mind. It was a unique experience for both of them, two feminine energies collided, something each of them longed for dearly.

At home, (Y/N) spent a significant amount of time helping Sarah with her homework: a bunch of English grammar exercises, essay writing, as well as some algebra. Following their arduous work, the girls decided they deserved some fun and made creamy pasta (one of Sarah's favourites) for dinner. Whilst waiting for the patriarch to come home, they got comfortable on the couch to watch 'Mrs. Doubtfire'.

Unsure if she should speak during the movie, Sarah poked her babysitter's arm. "Do you have siblings?"

"I don't, no. Why do you ask?"

"I don't have any either. Do you ever get lonely?"

(Y/N) wasn't sure where these questions were coming from, but she decided to entertain them anyway. "I used to, growing up. Though my parents did a very good job at making sure I felt loved at home. I miss them a lot, but I'm happy here too."

There was a long pause as Sarah was visibly deep in her thoughts. "I never knew my mom," It shouldn't have shocked the young woman, she assumed Joel and his wife had separated after noting the absence of a maternal presence in their home, but it still came as a surprise. "Daddy said she had her own reasons and that they both agreed for me to live with him."

"Adults always have their own reasons for things, even if it may seem dumb. I'm sure it was a very difficult decision to make for her and that she loves you very much."

"I don't think about her often anymore. My dad can be busy, but he does a good job. He comes to every game, takes me to fairs and carnivals, helps me with school projects. He's also extra cool on vacation."

Something about her remark pulled at (Y/N)'s heart. "I see. He seems like a really great dad." The girls went right back to watching Robin Williams dance around while doing chores, as if they hadn't just touched on a thought-provoking subject.

It was almost 11pm and Joel was nowhere to be seen. Instead of letting the girl pass out on the couch, (Y/N) let her hold onto her back as she carried the sleepy child all the way to her room. Making sure all was right, she put her to bed, closed the window, turned on the night-light, then made her way towards the door.

"You're really cool," Sarah said sleepily with her eyes closed. "I hope you stay for a long time."

No compliment in the world could compare to a kid's heartfelt approval. "I hope so too, sweetie. Good night and good dreams."

Walking back downstairs, the young woman took one look around the house and decided she could pass the time cleaning up here and there. She started by tidying up the living room: folding the throws, fluffing up the pillows, putting the board games back on the bookshelf. Then she moved onto the kitchen where she took the trash out, scrubbed the surfaces clean as silently as she could, put the leftover pasta away, and washed the dishes. Satisfied with her work, she went back up to Sarah's room to leave a glass of water by her bed in case she got thirsty in the middle of the night.

In a house that was dead silent, she heard heavy footsteps. In a short panic, she grabbed a pair of scissors that were lying on the desk and crept up closer to the door. The steps were agonisingly slow and calculated. The woman felt like she was in a slasher movie. Babysitters always die first. The only indication she had of the intruder's whereabouts was from the shadow that was created by the light from the kitchen. This is what you get for not turning on every single light in a house where you're all by yourself. One of the most important rules in horror movies, she thought. The shadow approached closer and closer to the door, and just when she hoped the distance was close enough, she leapt out of the room and went straight for the stranger. Unfortunately, her blow was blocked and her body pushed up against the wall. In a blink, she realised what had happened.

"What the hell, Joel?" she whisper-shouted.

"(Y/N)? What are you still doing here?"

"Doing my job. Couldn't let Sarah stay all by herself with no indication of when you'd be back. That would be irresponsible of me."

He let go of her arms, lazily rubbing his face. "You're right, I'm sorry. I got held up and my cellphone died. I'm so exhausted, I completely forgot you were here."

"It's all good, I didn't hear you arrive either," she paused, noticing the blood running down his left hand. "Oh my God, Joel, you're bleeding!"

He looked at the wound like he hadn't even felt it until then, "Oh, this is nothin'. I had worse accidents at work."

"Still, it could get infected. Please, take a seat in the kitchen, I'll be right back."

She went straight to the bathroom to fetch the first-aid kit. It was essential to know where it was, what it had and how to use everything as someone who had to watch a small human being. She went back downstairs to start working on Joel's injury.

"I'm so sorry. I was so caught up in my own mind, I thought you were an intruder, and it was the only weapon at hand-"

"Please don't apologise. It was my bad, really. I should have announced myself," he spoke as he watched her gently clean the cut with a saline cleansing wipe. "Can't blame you for doing your best to defend yourself. Takes courage."

(Y/N) realised that upon closer inspection, her employer was quite handsome. Dark messy hair, a somewhat upkept beard, broad build, crow's feet that indicated how often he smiled, as well as nose wrinkles that indicated how often he frowned. She carefully applied medical tape to close-off the wound and went to put the kit back where it belonged. On her way down, she noticed him looking around in slight confusion.

"Did you…clean the house?"

"Oh, you know, just lightly tidied up. I'm not a fan of leaving the places I stay at messy. Kind of a habit," she noted the silence and her hands instantly became cold. "God, I'm sorry. Again. I- I didn't even ask if you were okay with me touching your belongings, I got-"

"No, you're good. You're good. Don't sweat it. It's just that," Joel chuckled at her need to be so polite after months of working together. "You didn't have to do this. I can't ask you do to things that aren't part of your job description."

"I know. And I don't mind. Really. It's not like I'm playing Cinderella day and night," she said as they shared a laugh. "My job is to take care of a kid and the environment plays a big role."

(Y/N) picked up her bag, ready to leave for the night, "See you on Monday, Joel."

He reached out to touch her shoulder, then just as quickly removed his hand as if she had burned him. "Uh- do you- are you- um," She looked at him with furrowed brows, it's almost as if he was…flustered? "What are your plans for Christmas? Or, you know, holiday season? If you celebrate anything at all-"

"I won't be able to fly out to see my family this year, so I haven't made any other plans yet. Why do you ask?"

The man scratched his neck sheepishly, only then realising how long he had kept her standing on his porch when it wasn't exactly warm outside. "Would you like to celebrate with us? Sarah would be ecstatic to have you."

Warmth blossomed in her chest at the sudden invitation. So gifts are appropriate. Noted.

"I would love to celebrate the holidays with you guys. But only if you don't mind."

"I don't mind."

"Excellent, then I'll be here."

"Great."

"Good."

They stared at each other for way too long, the nanny realised, bearing the slightest of smiles. "Well, then. Good night, Mr. Miller."

He shook his head at her teasing tactic, "Drive safe, Ms. (L/N)."

There she was again, driving back to her apartment, giggling to herself like a maniac and for what? They invited her to celebrate a holiday. People did that all the time. Office workers, family members, casual friends, new and old lovers, it was truly nothing exceptional. But to her it felt different and she couldn't tell if it was because Sarah liked her enough to want her there or if it was because it came from him. Christmas was three weeks away. Three. Weeks. Away. Gifts. She needed gifts. What would she give them? What did they like? It came to her that she didn't know them that well, which meant she had some investigating to do in the little time she had left for shopping.

————-　❈　————-

When Christmas finally came, (Y/N) simply could not contain her excitement. She thought long and hard about the presents she would give the Millers, and while they may have appeared simple, she hoped that they would be appreciated. She personally wrapped them up in brown paper and decorated them with stamps, ribbons, and tags, firmly believing in the art of gift-wrapping. Austin had yet to see snow, she didn't think it would ever happen, yet the city was nevertheless bursting with festive spirit. Various lights decorated the trees and bushes in public parks. People hosted diverse markets in the streets where they sold artisanal goods and delicious foods. (Y/N) had gone ice-skating with the Millers a couple of weeks prior. Joel was as bad as she thought he would be; Sarah, however, was a natural. They enjoyed a lively Christmas parade that same day.

After parking in front of the house that was very tastefully decorated with her help, the young woman made her way towards the door, her homemade chocolate tarte in hand, and knocked, taking a second to register a male voice she did not recognise. The door swung open to reveal a man not much older than her, wearing a plaid shirt and dark blue jeans.

Looking her up and down, the stranger gave her a smirk, "And who might you be?"

"Hands off the babysitter, Tommy!" she heard Joel yell from deep inside the house.

"Ah, the famous babysitter!" he exclaimed, opening the door further. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

It smelled of oven-roasted turkey, of cigarette smoke, and of pine from the christmas tree. She found all of them moving about the kitchen: cutting vegetables, setting the table, washing the dishes. She felt like she'd arrived a tad too late.

"Can I help with anything?" she said, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room.

"Nah, everything's good to go," Joel replied as he scrubbed the remaining pots, "(Y/N), this is Tommy, my brother."

Said brother took her hand and placed a tender kiss on the back of it, "Very nice to meet you." Sarah couldn't hide her look of disgust if she tried.

"I didn't know Joel had a brother."

"You didn't tell her about me?" Tommy asked in exaggerated disbelief.

"Was I supposed to? Didn't know I was running a datin' agency."

"Thought that was part of the deal when we agreed to be each other's wingmen."

"Mm, don't recall us ever doing that."

"Well, we did. Spiritually. When we went to Buddy's Place? It was just around the time when Cat-" Tommy's monologue cut short with one sharp glare from Joel. (Y/N) could practically taste the tension emanating from him. Not a big fan of reminiscing the past, she noted.

"You know what, it's no problem. It's the perfect occasion to get to know each other, eh?" the younger brother flashed her a smile. They sure had impressive genes in this family.

Once the eldest Miller was done cleaning, all three adults cracked open a few cold ones to start off the evening. Tommy had the brilliant idea to teach Sarah a few card tricks, peaking their guest's interest.

"What are you teaching a 12-year-old cards for?" (Y/N) amusedly asked. Sarah seemed excited, she was one of those kids who loved to learn, it didn't matter what it was.

"First of all, every member of the Miller family knows how to play cards, we start young. And second, if not me, then who?" He made a good point. Tommy was, after all, the fun brother. "Wanna join in? I'm told I'm a great teacher."

She caught onto the subtle flirt and found herself wanting to return the energy. He was tall, he was dark, he was handsome. He smelled of cigarettes and beer with a hint of citrus notes. Not bad with kids but he wouldn't want any of his own anytime soon; very friendly, which for him also meant outgoing, ballsy, and prone to getting into trouble; charming to the point that he might seduce a few dozen women in one night; funny enough to make people like and maybe even trust him. She didn't mind flirting, but that was the extent of her intentions, and something told her Tommy Miller felt the same way.

They spent some time watching as Tommy performed the most outrageous tricks seen to man, to which his sole excuse was "I'm a bit rusty". He also tried to teach Sarah the art of cheating which, much to his disappointment and sorrow, his niece refused to take part in for moral reasons. (Y/N) noted the elder Miller's absence and excused herself from the oh-so-riveting demonstration of a disappearing card to go look for him. After searching the kitchen, his bedroom, as well as the garage, she stepped outside with a throw blanket and found him sitting on one of the patio chairs.

"What are you doing here? You'll get cold." he said, glancing at her from the side.

"I'm tougher than I look," she answered, nevermind the blanket tightly wrapped around her frame. "Came to keep you company."

"Who said I need any?" She sensed a hint of a playful tone.

"I don't know, you look awfully lonely sitting next to that empty chair." This earned her a light chuckle as she sat down. He didn't look very warm with one hand in his jacket pocket and his collar lifted up to his chin. She proceeded to awkwardly move her chair closer to his and slowly, as if dealing with a wild animal, reached out to wrap the throw around both of them, thankful that it was big enough for the job.

Sensing how still and tense he was, (Y/N) felt the need to talk to lighten the mood, "So, do you always sit outside all by yourself? In the dark? And in complete silence? Brooding-"

"I get the picture, and no," he took a sip from his bottle. "Sometimes I like to sit in my car."

He was capable of humour, which was a refreshing discovery after countless weeks of being formal. She understood wanting to define clear boundaries between employer and employee, but when she was essentially tasked to bond with his child and regularly invited to family activities, the lines naturally blurred, and her curiosity intensified.

"Who's Cat?"

Joel was silent for a second, then let out a reluctant sigh, "Cat was…a girl I knew way back when I was young."

"You're talking like you're in your 50s."

"I'm 34 to be precise, but fine, back when I was younger," he said grumpily. "We dated for a bit, then we didn't. That's how it went with most women I met."

"Oh, is this a Casanova situation?"

"No, more of a 'not ready to commit to a kid' situation," The silence that followed was loud, (Y/N) didn't want to make a sound, afraid he'd realise what he was doing and shut himself off. "I was 21 when Sarah was born. She's the joy of my life, I don't know what I'd do or where I'd be without her, truly. But...it was hard back then for a single dad with a newborn. Never went to college, had to take on side jobs to sustain both of us. My love life wasn't exactly a priority, and when the opportunity presented itself, they fled as soon as they heard the mention of a child."

The next question was risky, but she couldn't think of anything else, "So you haven't dated since your younger days? Not even the hot single moms in your area?"

This made Joel laugh heartily, a sound she loved to listen to, something she wanted to hear more often. "Not really. I mean I've flirted here and there, but Sarah and I are good the way we are now. She's my priority, and I want to make sure my partner's good to my kid too, you know?"

"If you don't mind my asking, what happened to Sarah's mom?" (Y/N) probed further, "Sarah told me-"

"Nothing happened. She left and that was that." The wall was back up. You pushed your luck.

Luckily for them, Sarah called for everyone to play cards. Which was then followed by board games. What they discovered that evening is that (Y/N) was either incredibly skilled at them or simply unbelievably lucky. She and Tommy got on well, making innocent physical contact here and there, high-fiving each other, sharing a lot of laughter, too much laughter for the man that sat across from them. Joel wasn't jealous, he was never jealous, but the sight didn't make him feel happy either.

After a while, the oven beeped, indicating that the turkey was ready. The four of them prepared the table with bowls of salads, bread slices, side-dishes, making space in the centre for the bird accompanied by roasted vegetables. (Y/N) joined in their prayer before they dug into their food. They shared all sorts of life stories: Tommy's time in the army, the most frustrating clients Joel had ever had, more embarrassing anecdotes from Sarah's childhood, funny and dramatic events that occurred while (Y/N) was on vacation. The young woman then brought out the tarte she'd made for the occasion, much to everyone's delight. It was as silky as she hoped it would be, tasting notes of coffee in her chocolate dessert covered in walnut crumbs. The ambience was relaxing, they sat under the dim light of the scented candles dispersed throughout the kitchen, bathing in the sounds of laughter and utensils scraping against the food on their plates.

When all was devoured, they moved the party back to the living room and Tommy decided it was time for presents. Sarah received hers first, which turned out to be a collection of CDs of her favourite musicians from Tommy and a skateboard she'd wanted for a long time from her dad. She hugged each of them very tightly, already excited to put both of her new belongings to use. Then it was Joel's turn to unwrap a brand new wallet gifted by his brother (apparently, he had complained about his old one he owned for more than a decade) and a second-hand guitar from Sarah that she acquired from a friend's cousin then paid for a cleaning by a professional with her own pocket-money (with a little help from uncle Tommy). Tommy received a steel lighter from Joel, who claimed the custom engraving – a hand-drawn cowboy hat on the front and T. Miller on the bottom – was Sarah’s touch. Just when everyone thought they were done, (Y/N) cleared her throat, calling for their attention, whilst dragging her bag closer to where she sat on the floor.

“I brought gifts of my own.” She declared and pulled out a box and gave it to Tommy, whom she'd met only hours ago. “I’m sorry, I took this just in case someone else would be here, but I wish I had gotten to know you sooner to customise the present to your taste- “

“Oh my sweet God,” he muttered, staring at the large crystal bottle of whiskey. “This is one of the fanciest kind around, it ain’t fuckin’ cheap either!”

“You’re lucky Tommy here is a whiskey connoisseur.” Joel said from his laid-back position on the couch.

The younger brother engulfed her in a warm hug soon after, “You got my taste just right, sweetheart, thank you.”

The room was silent as she extended a purple envelope to Sarah, who sat across from her. It didn’t seem all too exciting. The kid in question opened the envelope, eyeing her babysitter, who herself seemed a bit nervous. The silence in the room was suddenly broken as the 12-year-old squealed her hardest squeal, forcing both Millers to cover their ears.

“It’s two VIP tickets to the Halican Drops concert in Houston next year!” she exclaimed, launching herself at the now grinning woman. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“How’d you get those? I thought they were sold out.” her father asked, clearly having gone through the struggle of standing in long queues to make his daughter happy.

It was difficult to breathe with a prepubescent child sitting in your lap as she held you in a death-grip. “I have an old friend who happens to work at the venue.” she replied, accepting the kiss on the cheek from Sarah who sat back on the ground, practically buzzing as she stared at the pieces of paper in her hands.

Lastly, (Y/N) got up to stand in front of Joel as he looked up at the object she extended in complete surprise.

“You really didn’t have to- “

“Just open it.”

So he did. What he found inside was a Prussian blue knit scarf.

“I noticed you never wear one, and it’s pretty chilly out, so I figured I’d knit you one myself. Finished it just in time a couple of days ago. The color looks flattering on you.” she explained, blushing deeper and deeper with every word. She failed to notice that he, too, was heating up.

“Well, I’ll be damned. This woman can bake, she can knit, she’s smart, and she plays cards like a pro. I mean what can’t you do?” And while she knew Tommy was teasing, she couldn’t help but redden even more.

“I’m pretty proud of my mixing skills,” she added, making him pause with a face that read ‘no way’. “I’m a bartender on the weekends.”

She had barely finished her sentence when she yelped as Tommy scooped her up and over his shoulder. “That’s it! I’m taking this one with me. It was nice to see ya, big brother!”

(Y/N) squealed and wiggled around as much as she could to try to get him to let her down whilst Sarah did her best to save her friend by clinging to one of her uncle’s legs in protest. It was one chaotic scene unfolding in front of Joel, who had not moved from his seat, still staring at the scarf in his hands as he ran his thumb over the soft wool.

After all that excitement, the household members spent a few more hours watching ‘Home Alone 2’ and ‘Jingle All the Way’, DVDs Joel had bought earlier that week. During the viewing, he caught himself glancing at the woman curled up against the arm rest less than a few feet away from him. She remained completely oblivious, amused by the tomfoolery happening on-screen. He left the room for a moment to dispose of his empty bottle in the kitchen. On the short way there, he realised he was slightly tipsy. While he was rummaging through the drawers, he heard someone come up behind him.

“Looking for this?” he turned around to see (Y/N) holding up the bottle-opener. She walked up to the counter and opened the bottle in his hand, brushing her cold fingers against his warm ones in the process.

“You’re cold.” he commented bluntly.

“Yeah, my extremities get cold easily. That’s why I walk around in gloves and thick socks as soon as the temperature starts dropping.”

She threw away her own empty bottle and swiftly turned around to walk back into the living room, when she felt his hand wrap around her wrist ever so gently.

“I didn’t get to thank you back there. You know, for the present?” he spoke softly, giving her a rare smile. “It was real nice of you.”

She noticed the way his pupils were slightly wider than usual and his stance that seemed to swing back-and-forth ever so subtly. “Joel, are you…are you drunk?”

“It takes a lot more than a few bottles of IPA to get me there. I’m just fine.” he whispered, for what reason she wasn’t sure, then unexpectedly walked up the stairs to his bedroom. He didn’t leave her to contemplate her next actions for too long because he emerged not even a minute later, holding his right hand behind his back.

They found themselves standing closer than they should have, but neither of them seemed to care as Joel revealed the mystery object.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

It was the most beautiful edition of ‘Jane Eyre’ she had ever laid her eyes on. Red leather hardback with golden accents all over it, including the fore-edges, it looked like something out of a royal library.

“How did you know?” her question was vague, but she knew he knew what she meant.

“Sarah told me about the books that you like, said you haven’t read this one in a long time.”

Her warm embrace came to him as a surprise, but in the state of mind he was in, not only did he accept it, but it felt good, it felt right to hug her back.

“It happens to be one of my favourites, so thank you. Really. For all of the things you’ve done for me so far.”

The two held onto each other for longer than needed until Tommy’s call brought them back to reality. The other Miller eyed the returning pair suspiciously as they took their respective places on the couch and went back to watching the movie in comfortable silence. Only he noticed the red book in her possession and fought hard to stop himself from smiling.

Later that night, after all the dishes had been washed, the leftovers put away, and the only child put to bed, Tommy reluctantly sat in the back of the cab Joel had called for him. I am not fetching my brother from a jail cell on Christmas Day, he'd told him. When he walked back into his home, he saw a sleeping figure on the couch, covered by one of the throws.

He went into his bedroom and took no more than 10 minutes to replace all of his linen with fresh ones from the closet in the hallway. He wasn’t going to let his guest sleep on a couch, especially not under a row of windows or next to the entrance door. Carefully picking her up, and she was one deep sleeper, he made his way back to his bed to lay her down on the new sheets.

My extremities get cold easily.

He changed his usual blanket for a thicker one then grabbed a pillow and went to make his bed downstairs. He picked up the scarf lying on the coffee table once more and unfolded it entirely, only then noticing the tiny initials embroidered in grey into one of the ends – J.M. Upon an even closer inspection, he realised it smelled of vanilla and flowers.

————-　❈　————-

masterlist: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

tags: @elliaze @joeldjarin

[elenor222]

A Kendall Roy (Succession) Series

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: faint mentions of established relationship, sexual tension. All characters are of age. This story is 18+.

part 1

NEW YORK

3.12 AM

Emily stares at the white flushed screen of the newest shitop available in the market. She’s deciphering the flow of the shares today. Her glasses are turning blue with all the big numbers and the emails flowing through the system. There’s an untouched tumbler of souvenir matcha sitting on her desk. Her room’s illuminated a pale white with white lilies on her nightstand and an empty buzz from her phone. Emily rubs her temple, according to the entire finance department of Waystar, the Roys will take the company down with them by a decade. The lavish living and black dog services come with a price. A price they’ve long since forgotten to repay. Emily grunts and bites back her tongue. She looks up at the cerulean walls of her home painted with the same blood as them. Her chestnut eyes gleam, she dreams of Sicily and lush cherries. Bruised corridors and bluer skin. She turns towards the New York sky, cracking her knuckles and wonders how ground hog criminal she must’ve been to witness the corporate red with her own hands.

The next morning, a tall man with pale beach skin and visibly rich eye bags sits with four or five of his advisors and a bunch of younger executives. Emily does not accompany them. She stalls in her own office looking at the sugary buyout. She’s about ninety percent sure that Lawrence, the eldest son’s new venture, will and soon fuck Waystar. She lets out a giddy laugh in her mind and stays put at her cabin, chivalry gleaming in her eyes. Her posture is sleek, not too laid back but neither very professional. Kendall, suited up with cocaine in his back pocket, looks engaged, and rightly denounced, a little too lively.  

“This is a merger offer. Not an acquisition. We love what you do.” Kendall appears really passionate about the deal going through. His hands are clammy. He stares right through the upturned eye of the media guy.

“I get it. Of course, someone is always boss. And I don’t think that would be me?”

Kendall’s eyes briefly meet Emily. She’s intensely watching how this playdate plays out. Kendall can’t seem to focus between her glass of white wine at 11 am and that too tight white skirt riding up her thigh. He pretends to fix his tie. Hands imitating her face full of his length. He’s gone. Lilacs and bright Italian skies take over his vision. He’s sucking in another breath. So gone.

Kendall nullifies the rest of the conversation from his head. His eyes juggling between his two memento moris. There seems to a notable disagreement though, Emily senses it before she sees it. Her lip twitches as Lawrence stands up to leave. Kendall abruptly follows, seemingly surprised at the turn of the events. They walk next to each other down the wide corridor that border glass offices with venetian blinds on each side. He’s even wearing those knuckle deep expensive boardroom shoes, Emily peeks. Kendall steals a glance before the elevator door dings. She’s looking back at him with remorse. Soon, Lawrence whispers something inexcusable in his ear and the board sees him visibly loose his composure. He leaves the floor’s eyeshot rattled in fury.

LONDON

10 AM

“It’s inappropriate. It’s a fitness, thing. It’s - it’s basically a heart rate monitor. It’s a fucking abortion.” A broad shoulder man squeals. “is that what you give your 80 year soon to be father in law? To your boss? As a gesture of obeisance? When you’re looking for promotion? Or is that, say, like giving him a colostomy bag and a viagra? The optics are fucking horrible.” He keeps rambling on to the redhead beside him. She takes no notice of the priced-up suit or her satin shirt shining in the harsh auburn sun. Two black Mercedes line up bedside them.

Shiv, instead, is focused on a text.

Shiv: you coming?

Em: maybe :/

“Tom. It’s fine. Yeah, my Dad doesn’t really like things.” She advises him to throw ten to fifteen grand at some posh shop that sells sea shells. She’s staring at her phone with pursed lips.

NEW YORK

1PM

  “So, last call guys. We happy?” Kendall frantically looks around his team. Emily sits there looking uninterested at their long faces and sheets of robbery. Jess took an appointment, filing “wife needed for support” for her to be there. Back in the day, rose would’ve tainted her cheeks. Now, she only sits there. Stoic, unimpressed. She knows all too well that this was just another tactic for her to see him win. He’s bitter. And he hopes she knows.

Frank reassures him, ”If the committee play straight, we win. If they don’t, we go legal.”

“And we don’t want to just bump the number another point?” Young Alessandro, the investment banker looks towards Emily almost questioning the authority of her presence.

“You’ve already over ridden your Bali beach numbers. Although, I can give you an extra mil to demonstrate a knuckle fuck to Frank” Emily looks Kendall dead in the eye as if scolding a child. She crosses her legs and sits up straighter. Alessandro witnesses the change in power dynamics.

“You wanna call your Dad?” Alessandro offers.

Kendall looks like someone’s punched him in the nuts but he refuses to react. Emily only juts out her lips. She’s almost on the verge of enacting the scenes from their college days. Kendall gives her a so much so a threating look in response. His eyes dart to her mulberry pink lips. His mind fickle enough, churns him back to those same hot days with Emily on her knees.

 “Do I want to call my Dad?” he glares at the board.

“No” he comprehends. “I don’t want to call my Dad.”

“Do you want to call your Dad?” he bites back.  

“Does anyone want to call their Dad?” Silence surrounds the cascading white room except the timely tapping of Emily’s jimmy choos.

“Okay. No one wants to talk to thier Dad. So, let’s get in there, buy this fucking company and go top ten, shall we? I’m pushing the bid to 120. Okay?” Emily lets out a sigh in disapproval. Kendall pays no mind to her wandering gaze down his body. She wonders how she can put this in the mad bear’s plate without pissing him off.

1 AM

“What’s the number?” logan’s call disrupts Kendall in the midnight. Kendall did know, there was going to be consequences to raising the bid. He only hoped Emily had flower petaled logans fuck over shoes to bendable China. He dabs his forehead with a white tea cloth to soothe his nerves.

“I’m going to one twenty.” He intakes a sharp breath, eyes blown and sitting upright. he prays that his quaver of tone isn’t detectable. He fists his bedsheet into a stress ball. A minute goes by where you can hear the chaotic New York night pass by. He’s untouchable; how does the teen spirit bubblegum wrath seep in?  He speaks further in a fever dream, “Good. Look are we still good for tomorrow? Today?”

“Uh-huh. Yeah.” Logan is tapping away on his mouse. Unfocused eyes cram in all the emails from the week.

“Cos it’s gonna get out there?” Kendall’s eyes twinkle. They perfectly reflect the times square brightness.

“We’ll announce.” Logan rolls his eyes. His right hand is reaching for the will in his drawer.

“Great, so I can pre-floating to like Frank and Emily? If I need to. Cos it’s getting soft-floated.” The line goes dead. Kendall closes his eyes. He’s breathing raggedly. Theres a voice in the back of his head telling him he’s going to fuck it up. He blinks. Hard.

authors note: engagement of any sort is greatly appreciated. will try to update the next part this week itself <3

part 2

[kookriart]

Do you like to read?

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A reblog gets you one entry.

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If you're a follower, you get another entry!

That's up to 3 entries in the contest, and given that I'm a loser without a big following, there's a pretty good chance you could win with those odds!

I'll DM the winner next Friday (the 19th of June) to discuss what they'd like made, and if they're fine being announced, I'll announce them! Maybe share a picture of their requested bookmark design, unless they want something utterly degenerate...

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If this contest goes well, I'd love to host more of them, so thank you all for any support!

[andiftheycare]

Fics Masterpost

**Disclaimer: I’m making this for my own peace of mind and because I like to think that I’m actually writing most of these and seeing them in a post makes all my draft docs more real (insert here me sobbing). I’m not a native speaker so my English is wobbly at times. Cheers!**

How To Series

JJK shoujo manga au in which nothing bad happens ever.

How Satoru and Suguru Became Boyfriends

High School AU, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Valentine’s Day fic

Rumor goes Satoru and Suguru are dating, but are they?

OR High School au where Satoru and Suguru try to survive Valentine’s day and almost-surely-don’t-acidentally end up on a date.

How Satoru Knit A Scarf (mini long, around 14k)

High School Au, White day fic, miscommunication, established relationship

Satoru decides to knit his boyfriend a scarf for White Day. Armed with Haibara sister's knitting needles and Riko’s unwanted comments, he sets himself on a mission of knitting it in two weeks.

Except that he can be as good at everything as he wants, but knitting is painfully slow, and he has to hurry up if he wants to surprise Suguru.

Meanwhile, Suguru is trying to ask his boyfriend out for their first date – as a couple, not as friends – and wondering why Satoru is doing his best to avoid him at any given opportunity.

Or: stupid teeangers being stupid.

7/11 (one shot, 2k)

High School Au, Nanami POV, established stsg

Exams are approaching and Nanami is not spending the summer in school, thank you very much. Geto helps (or tries to.)

Or: Nanami is the only person yet unaware of Geto and Gojo’s relationship. Now he wants to burn his eyes.

Parts of your soul, Publishing AU series

They don’t die at the end

Publishing au, writer Gojo Satoru, book publicist Geto Suguru, getting together, miscommunication, burn out, non linear narrative, email fic, mixed media

Gojo Satoru is one of Japan's most celebrated literary writers. At least, that’s what his publisher tells him.

Geto Suguru is his book publicist, which is slightly inconvenient as he’s also: 1) his high school best friend who left him before graduation and 2) the love of his life.

When Suguru hands in his notice, Satoru makes it everyone’s problem.

Untitled full they don’t die at the end (multichapter, currently scared of how many words this will be)

Publishing au, angst with happy ending, getting together, slow burn, like ten years long slow burn, miscommunication, inappropriate office behaviour, burn out, publishing lingo, power dynamics, eventual smut, light dom/sub in parts, overworking, possessive Gojo Satoru, Geto needs therapy, more tags to be added

Spanning across ten years of maybes and won’t, this is the publishing au no one ever asked for.

Flat 23 (mini long, word count tbc)

Publishing au, getting together, slice of life, literally nothing bad happens in this fic, living together, editorial assistant Yuuji Itadori, Vet student Megumi Fushiguro, overall Queen Nobara Kugisaki

Nobara needs a housemate. ASAP. Because she’s on a publishing salary and can’t afford her monthly travelcard, let alone sharing the rent of a third empty room with Yuuji.

Megumi needs a flat. Possibly in the next 48 hours. His landlord is evicting him at the end of the week, and he refuses to go back living with Gojo. Let alone now that Gojo has a boyfriend basically living with him.

When he meets Nobara, Megumi thinks the place is too cheap to be true, but Kugisaki seems fine, and he can live for six months in a pet free house. Enters Yuuji Itadori, now bane of his existence.

he frog you swan one shot

Tongue Tied

Au - No powers, sort of reincarnation au, slice of life, umbrella thief, suggestive at times, office au, more tags to be added

☂️ part 1

☂️ part 2.1

☂️ part 2.2

☂️part 3