#and my supervisor is on vacation for two weeks so odds are no one's going to make any decisions until she gets back

[pride-of-storm]

i know doctor's office wants me to call to try and get me in earlier than the appt i scheduled online that was the earlist listed spot and over a month away, but also it's another thing to worry about and now i'm crying on the bus

[sweetchup]

A Helping Hand 4: Ghosts of Pasts // Day 1

Type: Shalnark x reader

Au?: Savior Au

Word Count: 2,800+

Warnings: Reminsing of last chapter, Injury, Meteor City mentioned

Author Note: Ah! I’m glad to be back writing this series sorry for the long wait. I split chapter 4 up into multiple parts so it’s going to be looooong.

Also, I’ve started a Taglist for all of my series to make it easier for people to find out when the next installation is. So if you want the be added just sent me an ask thats not anonymous and I’ll add you.

<—(Pt.3) / (Pt.4.2)—>

A Helping Hand Masterlist

It was the eve of December 18th, when snow finally fell throughout the Republic of Padokea. However, there was no celebration or cheer by the citizens as all of the festive winter holidays had already passed by then. With most just deciding to bunker in for a quiet night at home. Even at the Hospital near the bloodthirsty Heaven’s Arena it was rather quiet, almost dull in a way.

Though, one specific doctor, Doctor (y/n) of the intensive care unit, had little to complain about the lack of patients and activity. It was rather refreshing actually, mostly due to the fact it was your last night on the job before you went on your week long holiday break, a break you had planned out with your supervisor months ahead of time.

Months before you had met a specific man. Much more specifically, a specific patient named Shalnark Ryuseih. A member of the infamous Phantom troupe who you had saved from his demise at the Heaven’s Arena.

…. As well as someone you might have developed a really really big crush on during your time taking care of him. But, that’s a story for another day and something you shouldn’t be worrying about right now. Especially since you still have plenty of time left on the clock before you go home.

As the seconds click a way, you find yourself letting out a groan. It was no use. You couldn’t get him out of your mind.

You just wished that it was the usual thoughts of Shalnark that festered in your mind during work. The ones that were caused from something as simple as him holding you in his arms tighter than usual while he slept one night or perhaps a teasing comment he shot at you while passing in the hall.

But that sadly wasn’t the case.

For the last couple of weeks, Shalnark had been acting…… weird.

Well he technically always acted weird—a man who actually enjoyed indulging in birthday cake flavored ice cream could not be considered normal in your book— but this time, he was actually acting quite strange.

Sometimes, when doing check ups or just visiting his room you could hear him sigh. It was quite unnoticeable at first, you had just thought he was frustrated with some new tech thing he got into, but as December went on the sigh only got heavier and more frequent. This was also when some of Shalnark’s other actions started to be strange as well, something as simple as,“What are you doing for the Holidays?” Or, actually now that you think about it, anything that was remotely related to the holidays would have the corner of his lips drop slightly. Something very strange for him, for he hardly faltered that smile of his.

And it wasn’t as if you weren’t trying to find out what was wrong. You had asked him plenty of times about his new habits. Though, in a Shalnark fashioned way, he would just brush you off with a grin and be confused as to what you were talking about.

So, if Shalnark isn’t going to tell you himself what was wrong. You were just going to have to take it upon yourself to make him feel better. Emotional health is just as important as physical health in your book.

“For the last time (y/n), I hope you know what you are getting yourself into.” Mal reminds you for the 15th time since you entered her office space.

“Yes, yes. I understand, don't worry about it.” You reassure the older woman as you continue to fill in the blanks to finish up the paperwork. All the while attempting to ignore her as she nags your ear off. “Okay I’m done. Thanks by the way Mal, I really owe you one”

As Mal takes the paperwork from your hands, she gives you one last warning of caution,

“I know Shalnark is under your care and all, and you have gotten pretty close to him during his stay…. but don’t you think having him leave with you for vacation is a little much? It’s legal, for some odd reason, but you should be careful. Not only is he a grown man that could try anything while you are alone with him but if any of the higher ups hear about this, you could get in a lot of trouble.”

“True, but I doubt that,” You hum out as you fumble with grabbing your winter coat off the rack, “The higher ups don’t exactly care much about paperwork unless one of the secretaries, like yourself, reports something. So unless you choose to report me, I don’t have much to worry about.”

“Fine. Just…. be careful. I swear you have been getting more and more reckless the more you spend with that man.”

“I will. Don’t worry, Mal. See you in a week!!”

“Okay, see you in a week.” Mal responds back, her wave goodbye immediately faltering as you close the door. Taking a deep breath to calm down the uneasy feeling in her gut, She just hoped you knew what you were doing.

Once Mal sends you off, you make your way in the direction of Shalnark’s room. You are excited to tell him about your little surprise but also quite scared because you did not exactly ask him… permission…. to sign him out.

“Come in.” Shalnark's voice rings out from behind the door as you knock. Coming into the room, you see that, as per normal, Shalnark was clicking away at his laptop. He seemed busy with something since even when you took the seat at his bedside he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the screen.

After a couple more minutes of listening to the clicking of keys, Shalnark finally closes his laptop and turns his attention to you.

“Hello (y/n)! What brings you in here today?” He asks, resting his chin on one of his hands as he observes you. As Shalnark scans you up and down you can’t help but notice the mischievous look in those blue eyes of his. You kind of wondered what he was thinking, or possibly planning, but then again— knowing Shalnark —you didn’t want to know what was running through that brain of his.

“Can’t I just visit you?”

“I guess you could.” Shalnark comments halfheartedly as if you don’t already visit him for fun on the daily already, “I’m just surprised you haven’t gone home for your vacation. It’s your last shift tonight, right?”

Shalnark might have asked the last part as a question, but you already knew— from tons of experience with dealing with him —that he already formed his own answer in his head.

“Missed me that much huh?...” Shalnark whispers out, his eyes seeming to sparkle under the light as he leans back against the headboard of his bed.

“S-shut up.” You grumble out. Swiftly putting the paperwork in your hand up to your face as you could already feel your cheeks begin to flare up from flusteration. You swore this man had no sense of fear or dignity.

“Hmm?” You feel Shalnark grab at the paperwork wrinkled in your hand; recognizing his photo ID on the cover. “What’s this?”

“Paperwork.”

“What type of Paperwork?” Shalnark presses forward, already taking it from your hand to examine it. No matter how close you two have gotten during his stay, he has always been extremely thorough about looking at what you put down on his paperwork. Must be something he picked up while being in the troupe you guessed.

Suddenly, you see Shalnark’s gaze pause on a section of the paperwork. His body unintentionally freezing up in surprise as he rereads it again. However, instead of instantly asking or explaining his confusion, your eyes are trained to his lips, ever so slightly parted due to confusion.

Unconsciously, you run your fingers over your neck. Your mind flashing back to what happened when Shalnark was under the effect of the aphrodisiac drug. The tingly feeling of his lips raking up and down your neck. Kissing, sucking and biting at any possible skin he could—

“(Y/n), What is this?” He mumbles out, his eyes still trained to the paperwork.

“U-uh Well…” You pause for a second as you try to calm yourself down from your thoughts, thinking about what you should exactly say, “Recently, I’ve noticed you being quite down. Kind of depressed or miserable in a way—”

“Huh? I haven’t been depressed.” Shalnark exclaims, snapping out of the trance he was in as well as cutting off what you were saying.

“Let me finish idiot.” You grumble at Shalnark, flicking his forehead in anger. “Also even if you aren’t depressed—“

“Which I’m not.”

“...Do you want to get punched this time?” You threatened, watching as Shalnark suddenly broke out in a cold sweat. Memories flashing in his head of Lara pissing you off and facing your unwavering wrath. After one last glare, you continued what you were explaining, “As I was saying, Even if you aren’t depressed, it would be good for you to get out of the hospital. Hence why I decided to sign you out for my vacation week.”

It’s silent in the room as Shalnark just stares at you; an unreadable expression on his face. However, before you can figure out what expression it was, he quickly snaps out of it.

“Oh nice. That’s actually awesome.” Shalnark announces out, letting out a small giggle. “Just one question though… Is this even legal?”

“In a way…” You squeak out, watching as Shalnark looks at you with a knowing smile. Clearly understanding that you were pressing the line of legality and a possible felony in this situation.

“Well,” You watch as Shalnark shuffles out of bed; Planting his feet in front of yours before sending you a subtle wink, “Let’s get out of here before we get caught, okay?”

—.—.—.—.—.—

“So,” Shalnark starts, looking at the small white townhouse in front of him, “This is your house?”

“Um. Yeah?” You answer questioningly as you fiddle with your keys, “What about it?”

“Oh nothing.” You watch as Shalnark squats down in front of the garden gnome next to your tomato plant. Seeming to take in the plethora of plants covering your front patio. “It’s cute. I like it.”

“Thanks.” You mumble out bashfully as you unlock the front door, “I only rent the bottom floor of this place so it's quite small. But it's home.”

Before you enter, You offer a hand to help Shalnark up (He still has quite the injury in his legs after all) and watch as he walks inside your house; a limp still ever present as he walks. You just hope that he doesn’t push himself too far while with you. He might be a nen user but—

“Oh wow!” Shalnark’s voice calls out from inside the house, breaking your train of thoughts as you shut and lock the door. Confused yet curious at what he found interesting in your house, you slipped off your shoes—taking a small mental note that you should tell Shalnark to take off his as he forgot to— and walked over to his location. As you round the corner of the hall and gaze into your living room, you can’t help but let out a huff of a laugh. You can’t believe you totally forgot about Chloe.

There she stood, your 8 year old Sphynx cat that a college roommate had given you years ago, curled up in a fluffy blanket on top of her cat tree. Shalnark stood in front of the tree, looking up at the cat with an amused look as it glared down at him.

“Chloe.” You call out to your cat as you make your way next to Shalnark, “Come here baby.”

As you lift the cat off the tower, still wrapped in a blanket, and cradle her in your arms, you feel your breath hitch for a second. You turn your head as you feel a sudden pressure on your back and see Shalnark leaning over your shoulder. You stood there frozen and flustered, unable to move or look away from his face, from how close he was to you. However, Shalnark doesn’t notice how flustered you are; his attention focused on the cat in your arms. Eventually, he brings his hand down to pet her. Watching curiously as she sniffs his hand for a second before allowing him to touch her.

“They truly don’t have any fur…” Shalnark muses out as he rubs at Chloe’s ears, causing you to smile as you feel the rumbling of her purrs against your chest. “Hey (y/n)... did you know these guys are actually from Meteor city?”

“Wait… Really?” You shout out surprised, finally snapping out of the trance you were in.

“Yep!” Shalnark states rather proudly, “They were caused by accidental breeding by abandoned cats in the junkyards. …Though, the ones from Meteor city are quite rabid and terrifying so you can’t pet them like this. They would surely kill you.”

Startled, you give Shalnark a confused look, “No way…You're joking…”

“Nope.” He responds, popping the ‘p’ at the end as he walks away from you two and takes a seat on the couch. Your back suddenly feeling quite cold now that he was no longer next to you. “Even our toughest members like Phinks and Feitan were scared of those things.”

“Oh wow…“ You mumble out in amazement, placing Chloe back at the top level of the cat tree before taking a seat next to Shalnark. “...Meteor City sure sounds scary.”

“Eh, in a way.” Shalnark sighs out, stretching his back before suddenly resting his head on your lap. Startled at the act of affection, you freeze and stare down at him. Your mouth agape in shock. What… What was he doing?

“Oh.” Shalnark murmurs out as he takes note of your expression, already beginning to sit up, “Sorry, I stepped over a line didn’t I—”

“Ah! No!” You shout out, startling the both of you at how loud you were, “I mean… uh. I don’t mind, it just surprised me that’s all.”

“Oh. Okay?” Shalnark says, raising an eyebrow at you. As he sees your still worried expression looking down at him as he lays back down, he decides to flick at your forehead, surprising you. You two stare at each other for a couple of seconds before breaking out into light laughter at your stupid expression.

“W-what was that huh?”

As your laughter eventually stops, leaving you two in a comfortable silence, you stare down at Shalnark; his arms lazily crossed above his head with his eyes shut.

“You know…” You start, a stifle of a giggle sneaking up as a funny thought crosses your mind, “...You remind me of a cat right now.”

“Oh really?” Shalnark huffs out amused, popping one of his eyes open to gaze up at you.

“Yeah. All elongated on the couch, looking like you're about to fall fast asleep… Just like a little kitty cat.” You cooed out at him, taking two strands on the opposite sides of his head to form cat ears.

Shalnark sputters out a laugh before sending you a wink, “Go on. Give me a pet, Doc.”

You feel yourself freeze up as everything that has happened in these last couple of minutes hits you like a truck. Shit… You're his doctor, you idiot. This was what Mal was talking about about you getting too close with him. You have feeling for him but you can’t—

“Hey (y/n). You know…” Shalnark murmurs out, snapping you out of your thought, “One day…, I would like to take you to Meteor City.”

“R-really?” You answered, confused as where this was suddenly coming from.

“Yeah…” You watch as Shalnark eyes shift up towards the ceiling. His eyes unfocused and expression dazed as if he was off in a distant memory, “Not right now… But, In the spring…”

A smile slowly edges its way onto his face.

“Yeah… The spring,” He murmurs out again, sort of to himself, before looking at you, “You wouldn’t believe what it is like in Meteor City at the start of spring, (Y/n)... After a long hard rainy winter, seeds from rotten food, or hidden in garbage, come blooming out. It hardly lasts a month but… It’s gorgeous….”

As he stares up at you with those dazzling blue eyes of his, you can’t help but finally allow your hand to rest in his blonde locks. Wanting to understand more about that far off memory he had.

“I-I…” You murmur out, pausing as a small smile comes upon your face, “I can’t wait… Shal. Do… Do you think you could tell me more about your home while I wait?”

Just…

Just one more time, you’ll let your affections slide.

Allowing yourself to blur the lines of professionalism and wanting more.

Taglist: @meromelodi, @quartetstarheaven, @yumezai, @lvndrhwis, @writtenappreciation , @jojo-sinner, @pastelbear12, @aly-kurta, @bbunnycore, @feifood

[prorevenge]

Not following orders? You're fired.

For those of you that haven't read my previous posts, english is not my first language and im posting from mobile.

I work six days a week as a painter (not the artist type). This story happened from the 10. of august (saturday) to yesterday the 26.

Meet the spartans: Me: hello there, Hubby: my Cliff, JB: jester boss, Karen: my entitled supervisor.

Backstory: As some of you know, I got married the 11. of august. I had informed my boss and supervisor of this a week prior as per company rules regarding vacation time for our honeymoon. So just to be sure they understood the situation, I decided to mention it again the day before. They said they understood and told me to enjoy the week off with my husband. And just to be clear, I usually have a nice relation with both JA and Karen, but something wasn't right during all this.

So I finish my work that saturday and drive home to make the final preperations for the wedding. We got wed by the same priest that baptised me back in the day and everything went perfect and I couldn't have asked for more. It wasn't the big wedding you see in the movies, mostly because the only guests were my husbands parents and two siblings as well as about ten of our closest friends. We finish after some time and we retired for the evening. My husband had during his toast surprised me with our honeymoon destination, Australia. He hadn't mentioned anything about it, and he is BAD at keeping secrets from me, but we were both happy about it.

Since most people think i'm a girl because of my build and choice in clothing, you betcha we got some funny looks in Sidney while being there, we always have a good laugh when they realise. While being in Sidney I get a phone call.

Storytime:

It was Karen asking me where I was, why I hadn't shown up monday morning.

Karen: where are you? We have an urgent assignment.

Me: I'm in Australia, you know, on the other side of the globe.

Karen: why are you there? Who approved vacation?

Me: well first of all, it's my honeymoon. Second of all, you approved me taking time off.

Karen: well, that decision has changed, you are needed here ASAP.

Me: (dumbfounded)

Karen: yea, my son moved away from home and need his new appartement painted.

Me: I'm not the only employee in the firm, surely you can use someone else?

So, to clarify. Our company mostly hired people without education, I didn't have an education when I started but took it during my time there. But we discussed this for a good part of an hour before I got fed with her and hung up on her. I couldn't understand why she needed ME to take care of the appartement when there are six employees that rarely had an assignment and were more than good enough to take care of it, but noooo, it had to be me.

A couple hours later I get a call from my boss, he's a cool guy and we go out for a drink every now and again so he knows me. He was even a guest at the wedding.

JB: I got a call from Karen. She told me you were on leave without permission. And that you were quite rude toward her.

Me: as you know, I'm in Sidney on our honeymoon. I requested permission as per regulation and got permission from Karen herself. She called me earlier requesting me coming home to work to paint her sons appartement. I simply got fed up with her and hung up on her.

JB: well, we all know how she is with people, there is a reason why you are the one handling customers. You just enjoy your vacation, and say hi to the hubby from me.

Me: I will. See you in a week.

We continue our trip, but every now and again I hear my phone ringing, guess who. Noone in my firm like Karen, she is the biggest power hungry person I have ever known besides my own parents. Since I never shut off my phone, I kept getting calls and texts. Some were nasty like her personality, others were so sweet I thought she was on drugs. I got really tired of her so I answered the phone again (big mistake for her and me) I started recording our conversations to try get proof of her harrassment. She started threatening me with firing me and that JB was on her side. This continued for a couple of days. So just for fun, my husband and I start taking about taking revenge after years of oppression from her. So we used some of our time at the hotel looking into her. And I happen to know some stuff about her taxes and regular finances since she asks me to take care of her tax payments. We contacted some of our friends back home to help us, (we have some friends in the local police force) and the plan was in motion.

Revenge: Friday we returned home with the biggest jetlag in my life, but with fire in my soul keeping me going. We found some dirt on her during the week. We had enough to use. Because of her Union, the firm was unable to fire her because of the certain type of harrassment she commited. Bullshit, my turn to screw her over. My husband and I decided to cut the vacation short so we could start immediatly. So saturday I clocked in and had a meeting with the guys on my team. We had five ranks in the company, Boss, supervisor, teamleader (me), employees and interns. So I had a meeting with my team to get them in on the fun, no hesitation, they joined. None liked her so, LET THE HUNGER GAMES BEGIN, AND MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN OUR FUCKING FAVOR. We printed out the tax files I had and collected a total of one hundred and fifty pages with taxes. We made memes of her sleeping on the job and such, and you name it we did it.

I went to her office regarding the appartement and she lit up like a pumpkin on halloween. She hadn't noticed me being back at work so she jumped into the air. But she immediatly started rambling about her son and how he needs to get painters out. I said funny, enough ok and finished up preparing. We drive to the appartement to set up, and wouldn't you know Who came by, yup. She came rambling through the hallway. And when she came in, oooohhhoho you should've seen her face when she saw our fabulous job. We had taken every printout of her tax files, every mail with threats to employees and basically every piece of evidence against her that we had sent a copy of to her Union, and glued Them to the walls and painted around Them like a picture frame. Of course she would deny everything, but she now had no backup from the union to keep her from being fired.

We sent her tax files to our country'S CRS (tax evasion), we sent both mails with threats and tax papers to our boss, who btw was in on it from the start, and to top it all off, we got her ex-husband to dig up old files from when they were married, and wouldn't you know, tirns out it was some juicy stuff we found. We mailed these papers in to my friends in the local police and asked Them to let us have some fun with her before they took her. We did.

Fast forward to yesterday (26.) I got a call from my friends that Karen tried to use me as a scapegoat, that I was the one who made all those papers to frame her since I didn't like her, well true, I didn't like her from the start, but every file and mail were written by Karen herself. She had no credibility and found herself locked up before long. Just to rub it in her face I showed up in court with my husband and the entire company just to see what would happen. She was livid. When she saw me and my husband, she immideatly stood up, acting like nothing's wrong, and tried to run for me. I don't know if she taught she could kick my ass or what, but even though I dress like a girl and have a pretty small and feminine body, I am much stronger than she think.

The court came to a verdict. She was to pay about 450.000 USD for tax evasion + fraud, we found out that she used money from the company to renovate her own house. She got fired by my boss, and was to spend 3 years behind bars because of fraud, tax evasion and contempt of court. Over all, a shitty day for her.

On her way out she started yelling slurs at me and trying to bite the officers in the neck in pure desperation.

This morning when i clocked in I saw a notice on our board about a possible promotion. I applied on the spot. I went in, had a Nice chat with My boss and got the promotion while still keeping my old position as team leader. My pay got almost tripled in a span of 72 hours. I'm happy.

Tl;dr Supervisor gives permission for vacation and tries to revoke it as her son just moved out. Wrong person to demand from.

Summary: Don't mess with newlyweds

(source) story by (/u/Tobi_wan_kenobi_)

[lonelypond]

Soldier Game: Operation LA Smile

NicoMaki, Love Live, 5.2K, 1/?

Summary: Soldier Game is called in to protect a team of fashion designers who have been assigned to smuggle scientific data into a hostile United States. Working as models requires a new skillset and Nishikino Maki's first encounter with Yazawa Nico explodes with tension.

ROUND ONE

Sprawling government complex. Full of busy offices, tracking numbers and citizens, calls and meetings being held in a variety of languages. Competent, concerned, efficient bustle. Take a left at the Innovation For A Cool Earth Liaison office, down a very quiet hallway, and take an elevator to the second floor, where the lights were lower, and noises of grunting and bodies falling could be heard. Third door to the right was slightly ajar and inside, Tojo Nozomi, long purple hued hair in a very professional ponytail, had printouts spread all over her desk. And the latest fashion magazines in a row at the top like a barricade. And on her very very secure government issue but Nozomi tweaked to make it even more secure laptop the message from RiceQueen, pleading for help biohacking a prophylactic treatment for the coronavirus. Nozomi’s supervisor stared at her from the doorway.

“Come inside and close the door.” Nozomi shut her laptop, “I’ve read through all the files you had forwarded..

The Deputy Minister nodded and shut and locked the door. “And your conclusion?”

“I think we should go through artistic channels rather than our usual operatives.” Nozomi waved at the chair opposite her.

“What do you mean?”

Nozomi slid a magazine toward the Deputy Minister, open to a page with the latest collection from FeatherSmile Designs. Intricately woven graphene fabric that lit up with neon kanji. “We would have to upgrade their tech, but I think they could carry the message effectively.”

“But they’re not agents. We’d be putting civilians at risk.”

“We give them minimal details and protection. I’d need Soldier Game.”

The Deputy Minister nodded. “They’ve been on standby for months so that wouldn’t be a problem.”

Nozomi glanced at her laptop. “I’ve built a personal relationship with our US contact. I’d like to be involved.”

“That’s unusual.” A tilt back in the chair. Nozomi was starting to lose her audience.

“She’s very skittish.”

“It is difficult to get US visas.”

“For a mini movie in LA? The Governor has negotiated higher threshholds for funded projects. Here’s my plan.” Nozomi handed over a folder that had been marking a particular fashion spread. “We bring FeatherSmile in under the cover of assisting with increasing the positive response to Japanese businesses and citizens. I have a contact in California we’ve used before, Kousaka Honoka.”

The Deputy Minister read the plan over, “Bold thinking, Tojo. May be useful on several fronts. I’m impressed.”

Praise for the obvious wasn’t something Nozomi wasted time over. “People are dying, ma’am. Ignorance and bigotry are on the rise. And someone has asked us for help.”

“So what’s our first step?”

“Contact Yazawa Nico and Minami Kotori. Bring them in. And inform Soldier Game of their new assignment. I’d like to see them on some photoshoots now, rolled out over the next two weeks in separate locations. Maybe one of them vacationing in the middle of celebrities. Send Nishikino for that. She’s got the status.”

The Deputy Minister typed quickly into her phone, “Anything else.”

“I’ll be taking my driver.”

“Of course.”

“I have a list of gear we’ll be needing. I’ll put Sonoda on that and let Rin assist.”

“Then I’ll put Ayase and Nishikino in the field this week while Sonoda preps.”

“Perfect.” Everything on Nozomi’s list had been checked off. Now to talk to the tech team about upgrading FeatherSmile’s textile output.

###

Nishikino Maki, bright red hair under a floppy straw hat, stretched out on the chaise, her book next to her, the sun hot against the skin exposed by her bikini. And then the waiter’s shadow blocked her light. She tipped up the hat, with a snarl, “Just leave it on the table.”

The waiter nodded, placing the tall glass. Maki held up a finger to keep the waiter’s attention, reached over, picked up the glass, and sipped.

“Too salty.’ Maki spat in the sand. A murmur of horror rippled down the row of seats. “Take it back. Tell your master mixologist that Bloody Marys should let the tomato juice shine.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you’d better be back here before I finish this chapter.” Maki picked up her book and took her sunglasses off, “Management fires my least favorite employee each and every day. Survival of the fittest.” Maki winked. “Or the cutest.”

Next to Maki, a banking dynasty scion fresh from the London School of Economics rolled her eyes at the vapidness of the idle rich. Nishikino had landed in Hawai’i last Thursday and by the weekend had been spoken of in terror by hotel staff members all across the Big Island.

 ###

Ayase Eli, blond hair in a tight bun, stretched, laying back across the barre, smiling at the smaller woman waiting next to her. “It’s been too long since I’ve had a job with a full dance studio.”

“Oh, are you a dancer?”

“Trained in Russia.” Eli’s tone was polite enough but something in the icy blue of her eyes encouraged the other woman to shuffle farther down the barre. Eli did another perfect move, “It’s great that dance is having such a strong surge. I’m hoping to get a job on a movie in LA or something.”

“Oh, that’d be cool. It’s hard to get work in the US now, with their strict visa limits.” The smaller dancer moved from first to third position.

Eli leaned forward, relaxing, watching herself in the mirror, “But haven’t you always dreamed about Hollywood?”

“Who hasn’t?” The other dancer dropped into a full plie.

###

Sonoda Umi had the supply list memorized, with her own additions. Soldier Game had their own preferences. Dressed in a simple black pantsuit, light blue shirt, gun holster hidden, Umi swiped the pattern that opened the door for her. A clerk greeted her.

“Sonoda-san.”

Umi glanced at the nametag, “Fujioka-san. Please inform Tojo-san that I will meet her driver in the Armory.”

A bow and Umi moved through the checkpoint. That was one of Umi’s favorite things about having to work from Headquarters. There were no unnecessary conversations, everyone prided themselves on efficiency and detachment, Umi felt not at home, but at work. Which was one of Umi’s more productive places. And Umi’s productive places were Umi’s happy places.

###

Yazawa Nico swivelled her chair, forcing her eyes away from the multiple screens in front of her. “Nico knows the computer’s doing most of the work, but…” Nico shook her head, “This much information is making Nico’s brain hurt.”

 Minami Kotori, in a custom made Rumi Rock yukata, was pinning fabric to a dressmaker’s dummy. “Take a break. We can finish programming the looms later.”

“Nah.” Nico shook herself, slapping her face, “Sooner we get it done, sooner we can cut the garments. Did we get the model measurements?”

Kotori nodded, “All the details. Did you see the pictures?”

Nico closed her eyes, yes, she’d seen the pictures, but how do you...then Kotori interrupted her with a giggle, “I’ve been having the most...exquisite dreams.”

Nico decided a change of topic was her best strategy before Kotori breached TMI territory.

“Anything we make will drape well.”

“And practically drip off.” Kotori giggled.

Nico refused to be lured to after hours chatter. “I think the redhead would look great in that lilac twisted tweed you showed me.”

“Ooohh, it would really bring out the lavender in her eyes. Tweeds will also easily disguise any patterning.”

“Yeah, if we use the free color slot to match their individual eye colors…”

“Oh, I can see it,” Kotori stepped over to her drafting table, swift strokes creating three almost capes, Nico guessed from her distant, odd angle.

“So we’re going with a Fall/Winter book?”

“Would you rather see them model bikinis?” Kotori asked wistfully.

Nico dropped her head to her clasped hands, exhaling. What the hell kind of trap question was that to ask a respectful, modern woman so so gay she can’t stop thinking about her new co workers playing nude beach volleyball? There was no safe answer.

“This is so much flashier and more complicated than our usual drop jobs. Can’t we just…” Nico really needed a steady girlfriend so she wouldn’t get preoccupied by random curves.

Kotori frowned, she’d had a late night conversation with their international headquarters. “Command thinks this ask is a mole trying to get information about our operations.”

“Damn. So flashy it is. All personality. Nico nico ni.” Nico, hands raised to her temple, smiled, then sighed, shrewd glance meeting her partner’s.

“Yeah.” Kotori bit the air.

New information absorbed and back on task, Nico considered the juxtaposition of life saving science and sexy swimsuits. Too distracting. But then again, no one would believe it was about anything but pretty women in pretty clothing. Everyone underestimated pretty women. And none of the models were shy about their assets, from the pics Nico had seen.

“Bikinis. Nico just thinks no one will notice the thin pinstripes are actually graphene circuits if they have those models to look at.” Plus, if Soldier Game was investigating them, that little fabric would make guns or recording devices harder to conceal.

Kotori raised an eyebrow at Nico, “You always have the best ideas, Nico.” A few quick adjustments with her pencil and the capes become beach covers, in linen, not tweed, “Ready to wear, on demand we are. With reclaimed fabric. Eco friendly.”

“Eco sexy.” Nico snapped her fingers.

“Sexy sexy” Kotori giggled.

Nico decided a mutual review of their corporate sexual harassment policy was a very necessary next step.

###

Umi stopped, pivoted on her heel and glared over packed duffle bags at the short, energetic ginger haired woman bouncing down the hall after her.

“Let me help, Sonoda-chan.”

“Everything is wrong with that.” Umi stated through gritted teeth.

The ginger shrugged, mischief flicking in chartreuse eyes, “You won’t let me call you Umi-chan.”

“Hoshizora-san.” Umi stated deliberately, as an example, “Perhaps I could speak to your direct report.”

“Nozomi-chan? Oh sure, she always loves it when I stop by her office. She’ll have tea ready and we can talk about what I found out about…”

Umi stopped the spread of information as quickly as she could. “Where is Tojo-san’s office?”

“Right this way.” Hoshizora sped down the hall. Umi briefly wondered if the cat like gimmicky gestures were the actual result of some kind of genetic experiment with cheetahs, but surely there would have been more rumors. Hoshizora skipped -- skipped?!?!?! -- through a door and Umi increased her pace to catch up. Pausing, she knocked, but the door was ripped open, the mini cheetah hybrid speaking to someone inside, “Sonoda-chan wants to see you, Nozomi-chan. She doesn’t like…”

Umi stepped inside the room, stern. “I can speak for myself.”

Tojo was dressed appropriately for the office, in a dark suit, unlike her driver’s Nadeshiko Japan soccer jersey and jean shorts, exuded polite propriety. “Please take a seat, Sonoda-san. How can I help you?”

Hoshizora slid into the chair behind the desk, “Sonoda-chan” Hoshizora winked, “objects to my “‘overt familiarity and lack of respect.””

Nozomi had a slight smile that bordered on a smirk. Umi adjusted her initial impression. She was beginning to suspect that this division was not run to military specs. Nozomi’s voice was a giggly, syrupy mess with hints of rural accent, “Now, now, Lt. Commander, I’m sure you are aware that you will be undercover beginning tomorrow.”

“Of course. I read the dossier.” Umi started to prickle.

“So why do you object to my assistant following my orders that you be eased into a non military environment by ignoring a strict hierarchy.”

Hoshizora, Rin, Umi corrected herself, was rocking the chair back and forth, silently laughing. Umi cleared her throat, “I was not aware those were...Rin’s orders.”

Rin leaned forward, eyes wide, sticking out her tongue.

“Are you going to be aware of everything happening on this mission?” Nozomi asked quickly.

If I can be, Umi’s head went, but she just shook her head in lieu of a verbal reply.

“So, as you are temporarily under my command, you should be aware that I find keeping my charges in a state where they are continually alert leads to the most successful missions. Perhaps not as planned as what you are used to from your time with the Defense Forces, but our skillset needs to be more flexible.” Nozomi tilted her head, almost coquettishly, “Do you understand, Lt. Commander?”

“Of course.” Umi stood at attention, her eyes locking on Rin’s, “Umi will be fine from now on, Rin-san.”

“Rin.”

“Rin.” Umi grinned. Deliberately.

“Good.” Nozomi leaned back against her desk, relaxed, Rin spinning in the desk chair. “And call me Nozomi. Tomorrow, we meet Yazawa and Minami and we need to have our covers locked down.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Nope.” Rin giggled. “You’re slow.

Umi bowed. “My apologies, Nozomi. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t. It’s why I requested your unit.”

Umi hadn’t been aware that the assignment had been an outside request. She’d been too eager to return to the field, even if it involved rather shameless activities. She made a mental note to pay more attention to details. And to cultivate Rin’s acquaintance. She seemed like the detail spilling sort.

“Where’s the tea, Nozomi-chan?” Rin rolled the chair to the credenza under the window.

“Why don’t you take Umi-chan down to the canteen and tell her about our last job.”

“Ooh, that’s a great idea. C’mon Umi, I’ll race you.” And Rin was out the door.

Umi glanced at Nozomi, who shrugged, “Better sprint.”

Umi sighed. So this was a test of physical as well as mental acuity. Fortunately, she had a route to take from here that would be a short cut. Umi headed to the window, raised it and dropped down two stories to the courtyard.

“Unexpected.” Nozomi watched as Umi landed lightly, then raced diagonally toward the kitchen’s loading doors. “Interesting.”

###

Maki Nishikino had never been subject to so much scrutiny. Especially while in this little clothing. The interest in the narrowed ruby eyes was clinical and the fingers that reached out to adjust the bow at her breast were disturbingly impersonal. She reverted to a childhood habit and wrapped her arms around her torso, stepping away from this Yazawa person with a frown.

“This one can’t seem to smile…” “Maki.” Maki snapped and Yazawa raised an eyebrow. “Call me Maki.”

“Maki.” Yazawa bit off every syllable, “doesn’t seem to get sunny or smiling so we’ll have to go for moody sexy on the shoot.” Yazawa stepped back, hands on hips, eyes still roving over Maki’s body in a way that made Maki feel like she was wearing even less. “So either slightly less fabric or a lot more.” “I can smile.” Maki bared her teeth at her antagonist.

Nico shook her head, relaxed her lips in a smile that somehow seemed to make the air glow around her, then called back casually over her shoulder, “Less clothing, maybe lose the top, lots of mood lighting, a fabric that will shimmer. Make a note for the photographer. Cool, wet mystery.”

Maki would have choked when Nico said wet with a smack of her lips but she was fortunately not drinking anything, just reaching out her hand for the water bottle

Now the other designer, Kotori was staring at Maki with speculative, measuring eyes, “Yes, I see what you mean, Nico. Maybe something that looks like washed up on a rocky shore.” “Mermaid? Hmmmm…” Nico gave  Maki one more head to toe examination, shrugged, rolled her eyes, and turned away, “Show me a sketch.” Maki pulled on her coverup and retreated to a chair, knees pulled up, trembling with anger and embarrassment. This was not what she expected this assignment to be. Where was someone she could kick? Or suture? Or shoot? Where were Umi and Eli?

Kotori suddenly purred as the door opened, “Oh, hello, Sonoda-san. Welcome to our temporary studio.” 

Maki thought studio was a generous description for a grungy boxing gym with a green screen set up in front of the ring.

Umi stepped in, dressed for some reason in her kendo workout gear, while Maki was wearing this wisp of thing that would get washed away in a light swell on a calm lake. Both Nico and Kotori were suddenly all attentive to the newcomer.

Umi, as polite as ever, bowed, “My apologies for my tardiness. One of my students had a minor injury I needed to tend.”

“Are they all right?” Kotori asked.

Umi nodded. “Just a small accident.”

“Good. We had a chance to start with Maki.” Kotori waved a hand in the direction of the chair, “If you’ll follow me into the locker room, I’ll get you suited.

“I am at your command.” Maki snorted, loud enough that Umi would hear so Umi pinched up her lips in a frown at the volume, Maki rolled her eyes and then was distracted by Nico with her hands on the arms of Maki’s chair, “Eyes here, Red.”

Maki was startled and snarled. “What do you want?”

Nico sighed, “Okay, Nico knows your brand is temperamental celebrity and we want other temperamental celebrities to see how all…” Nico flipped her hand dismissively at Maki, “this looks in our swimsuits, but it’ll help if you’re at least polite on the set. Don’t etiquette classes come with the wealth package. Or do you like getting thrown out of countries?”

“I can be civil.” Maki said coldly. “Oh good. Nico can’t wait to hear it. Now can you smile? Watch me.” WIthout even a beat, Nico leaned in, staring deeply into the depths of Maki’s eyes, paused just long enough that Maki’s breath caught, and then hopped back, a manic gleam in her eye and a sunblast of a smile on her face, “Nico Nico Ni needs you to act as pretty as you look.” Then there was a wink and Nico twirled, her back toward Maki and Maki had a minute to recover, “Nico will grab a camera and we’ll try the poses again.”

Maki groaned. Nico heard it and hesitated as she picked up the camera. Nico wasn’t a cruel woman. For all the red carpet photo shoots and TWIG selfies, this would be Nishikino’s first professional photoshoot. Which is part of why Nico was drill sergeanting Maki into the patented, 125% successful Nico Nico Ni practice practice practice mindset. The brat, though attractive in the conventional burn down the seacoast with laser eyes sense, would benefit from the confidence that came from repetition. Nico grabbed her oversized pink hoodie from the director’s chair and as she turned with the camera in hand, she tossed it at Maki, “Put this on.”

Maki hesitated, then shrugged into it, relaxing slightly at the warmth and additional coverage, “Why?” Nico shrugged, “This is just a practice shoot, you don’t need to freeze.”

“How did you?” Maki blushed when Nico raised an eyebrow and flicked her glance to Maki's chest for a second. Maki immediately looked anywhere but Nico, “I can handle it.” “Yep. Sure you can, Ma-ki. But tell the camera that.” “Huh?”

Nico raised the eyepiece, pointing the lens at Maki, “Confront the camera. Nobody worth your time wants passive pretty. We want fight.” Nico chuckled, “Hate hot. Flirt fight.”

“Flirt fight?” Maki said slowly, actually glad for some direction. “With you?” Nico lowered the camera, “With the lens. Nico’s not even here.” She raised her hand in front of her face like a magic trick and then Maki was looking at the lens again. Maybe if she imagined a target? 

Nico decided to help, “So what makes you mad?”

Maki’s lip twisted, “Exploitation.”

Fancy word. Nico wondered if that was personal.

“What makes you happy?” Maki shrugged.

Not thrown off by no answer, Nico kept up the patter, Soldier Game needed to up their casual talk game, Nico was doing all the work here. Of course, she was prepared to do all the work. Nico relied on no one.

“Hobbies?” Nico kept moving, her voice even. “Music.” Maki’s posture opened. “I play the piano.” “Nico cooks. Pick up those boxing gloves and put them on.” Commands camouflaged in conversation, after years in the fashion business Nico was a master.

Maki walked over to the table and laced into them.

“Hit the heavy bag.”

This was better, Maki thought as she pounded into the leather, feeling a little like Steve Rogers, stuck in a place he didn’t want to be.

“Classical?” 

“Jazz. Spent a lot of time in America, studying…Ellington, Basie, Baker, Chet, and Jospephine, Bessie Smith for the blues…” Maki had an easy rhythm going, hardly noticing Nico clicking away. “Then…” a snarl, “everything got openly toxic for women and Asians so I hit the road.” Good cover, Nico thought. Maki was Soldier Game's American link. “And you know Ayase and Sonoda how?”

“School. Families.” Maki shrugged, “We know the same…” her voice hardened, “people.”

“Got a jazz trio going?” Nico asked lightly. Maki laughed, the mood dispersing, rolling her shoulders and shaking out her arms before attacking the bag again.

“Look at me.” Not a request.

A graceful turn, sharp purple eyes snapped onto Nico, narrowing, curious, alert, cardigan slipping unnoticed off a shoulder, strong legs braced for the next blow.

“Got it.” Nico announced, lowering the camera with a flair. 

Maki tilted her head, “Got what?”

“Nishikino Maki.” Nico glanced down at her viewscreen, ruby eyes with a happy twinkle. “I’m about to rethink our whole campaign. Kotori likes sweaty.” Nico froze. Oh damn, she’d better go rescue the kendo champ.  “Wait here, Cassius.” And Nico hustled to the dressing room.

###

Kotori was sitting primly, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap, eyes never leaving the muscles on Umi’s back as the other woman changed into the swimsuit Kotori had chosen for her.  Nico barrelled through the door, Umi gasped and grabbed for a towel, and Kotori frowned and turned, “Nico, I was concentrating.” “Sure you were. But Nico has this genius idea. I took some pics of Red there,” Nico flicked her thumb back toward where Maki was slouching in the door, “with gloves and my hoodie over the suit and you’ll love the aesthetic. Just take a look. Plus, I ran a quick search on boxers…” “When did you have time?” Maki wondered. “There was a whole hallway; Nico is fast.” Nico slid next to Kotori, “Found Muhamad Ali quotes. One of them is “I’m too fast. I’m too smart. I’m too pretty." And with these three...”

“Nico” Kotori turned, wide eyed, hands reaching for Nico’s while Umi and Maki shared a confused glance, “That’s PERFECT.” “Nico knows.” “People will swoon.” Nico took a quick glance back at Maki, “Nico knows. And Ali's an American icon, so cultural resonance. Coated in pop culture candy."

Kotori stood up, muttering, totally ignoring Umi, who was standing with a towel clasped at breast level offering some cover for her bare torso. “Just a few changes, maybe robes, maybe some of those big, satin shorts, sliding down…” Kotori swept her hand down her hip.

“Nico can see it.” “Now that I’ve seen them I can…” “Yeah, yeah, less talk, we get on a plane in tomorrow, go make magic happen.” Nico shoved Kotori from behind, forcing the designer seamstress into a stumble toward the door. Nico picked up Umi’s shirt from where Kotori had been sitting on it, handing it to the owner with a wink, “You can thank Nico later.”

Umi grabbed on to the lifeline and nodded. 

“When Kotori finds you again, tell her Nico’s in the gym, setting up a few things for tomorrow’s shoot.” “Of course, Nico.” Umi buttoned up quickly.

“Thanks, champ.” Nico blew a kiss as she bounded out of the room, past Maki with barely a side glance. Umi chuckled.

“You’re amused?” Shocked, Maki settled across a bench, twirling a curl of hair.

“By Nico?" Umi considered. "Yes. She and Kotori have an interesting working dynamic. Completely different from ours, but just as professional in its own way, I think.”

Maki looked doubtful. “She seems a little flaky.”

“It’s mostly for show.”

“Really?”

“Yes, like when a bird displays its full foliage.”

“To impress someone? With flakiness?” “With energy. Very desirable from a mating perspective.” “You want to ma…” Umi, now flustered, rushed to interrupt Maki’s question, “Birds, birds do such things to attract a mate. I am a complete professional, as always.”

“As expected.” Maki agreed. Umi never cracked. Eli would occasionally start to have...Maki hated the f word....feelings, but Umi, Umi was always 100% on the job, ready, focused. Maki relied on that. What Maki did with....emotional precursors was work them out, leave them to wilt in the blaze of the open, actively exhaust her imagination so she didn’t have to wonder about things. Remembering a flare deep in devilish eyes and hands confidently maneuvering a camera, Maki considered if acting on the impusles flashing through her thoughts would be best before she got on a plane with Nico and flew into even more unfamiliar territory, Maki knew how she worked, and she knew who and what she would be thinking about. Nico’s exacting glance had had a tactile quality and Maki’s skin felt like it had been barely brushed by exploring fingertips. Which was going to be distracting. And Maki knew too well that distractions could be deadly.

“I’ll be in the gym. Don’t find me.” Maki decided.

Umi withheld her commentary. Every job was dangerous. Every Soldier prepared in her own way.

###

Nico had taken the green screen down and was in the center of the boxing ring, looking through a frame made by her fingers, muttering. Maki slid a weight in front of the door and approached the ring, hanging over the ropes.

“I saw you looking at me.” Accusatory snap. Why not? Hate hot. Nico had said that. Nico inhaled, sighed, and turned with hands open, “Look, Nico is sorry, and is so so professional, but you’re just so…” “Hot.” Maki ran a hand through her hair, “I know.” Switch the mood, check. Nico’s expression soured, “Okay. When did Nico sign up for your publicity blasts?"

“I don’t DO relationships," Maki announced, as if Nico had not spoken, "but you’re obviously into me, we have to work together, and I’d really rather not spend a lot of time wondering about whether you’re any good in bed,” Maki stepped through the ropes, strutted toward Nico, making certain to brush by the shorter woman, “like...you know.” And Maki shrugged, casually as she turned, and offhand arrogant multiple x rated seXXXy flashed neon in Nico’s mind.

Nico shook herself, quickly recalibrating the expected response. Ms. Too Cocky For Containment, Too Shy for Eye Contact here obviously wanted Nico to skip the apology phase and go right to impress. “Nico does fine. No complaints. Thousands of need more Nico texts.”

Maki’s quirked eyebrow read dubious as she leaned back, with liquid grace, in the corner of the ring. “Sure. Because your lack of detail encourages belief.” Amethyst eyes dared Nico.

Was this a trap designed to lower Nico’s defenses? Work of the mole? She and Kotori had decided wariness was essential with the new security team, but showing weakness was no way to keep the upper hand. And Nico thrived on the offensive.

“Would you like pics?” Two steps and Nico had blocked Maki into the corner, and the grungy, windowless gym had shrunk to the size of the ring as the combatants sized up their next moves, “Testimonials?” The tip of Nico’s nose had now landed a jab against Maki’s as dark pink lips landed the verbal followup, snapping, “Nico doesn’t even need a bed.”

Nico knew there was a big chance that saying that would completely blow the atmosphere and the super stupidly hot redhead who wouldn’t stop looking super stupidly doable would just collapse into hysterics. And, Nico thought, honestly that might have been a relief, because right now, Nico was pretty pretty sure pretty pretty Maki was smoldering with some fire Nico didn’t start and Nico wasn’t sure exactly what was supposed to happen. Or if everything would just explode.  But Nico had never gotten anywhere by not being bold.

“Oh really?” Maki pushed herself up, voice trembling slightly to belay the confidence in her actions, but as the movement rippled through her abs to her bosom, the thinking parts of Nico’s brain, the ones that had been slowing her down, shut off and her hands shot out to grab Maki’s waist.

“I liked you better down here.” Nico dropped Maki onto the stool, leaning in, one hand sliding slowly over Maki’s ear, through her hair, fingers exerting the lightest pressure on the neck, other hand holding Maki at the back of the waist.

“Oh.’ That squeaked out of Maki and Nico was suddenly at her neck, nibbling, confident, certain, as she felt moans her...opponent, sure let’s go with boxing analogies, was swallowing. Maki had not anticipated Nico’s response to be this fast. Or...effective. Maki could feel her heart hammering and Nico’s nearness raising the hairs on her arms. Was this a standard thing for Nico and models?

Nico nipped the earlobe and timed with the shudder, went for the hook, “Want more?” following quickly with an uppercut, her lips on Maki’s throat, slipping to the jaw, hand sliding down to tease Maki’s breast. Maki almost convulsed, no longer asking questions, all of her attention now on Nico’s next advance.

Nico heard a hiss. But no words.

“What was that? Nico was now between Maki’s open legs, leaning in in a way that would have surprised her at the brazeness of the move, if Nico’d been thinking at all, but no, she wasn’t, so she pushed in and Maki leaned forward, even as she squirmed on the stool, legs bumping Nico’s waist, her arms slipping through to wrap themselves in the ring ropes to either side.

“Maki?” Nico avoided the lips, even as Maki nearly roared, concentrating on the reddening chest above Maki’s bikini top, a hand on the bow and the bikini fell open, and Nico stopped for a heartbeat, breathless, she would be going there, as soon as…

A hissed word full of whispery need. “yssss.” And Nico bit, and Maki screamed, and the stool got kicked out of the ring, and Maki was suspended against the ropes, head thrown back, hair in crazy, bouncing tousles, and Nico could never watch another boxing match again, and every taste and touch of skin was so soft and supple and Nico had to dodge a thrashing leg, and Maki was about to rip the stanchion out of the ring, and Nico freed Maki's arm from the ropes, and fell backwards with both of them like they’d switched to wrestling and with Maki on top, Nico even impressed herself, hands flittering as fast as butterflies, kisses hitting as hard as taps on the speed bag, Maki mouthing nothing that made sense. And, then, with a cry, it was over. And for just a brief second, Nico caught a bright glance wide with wonder, then long lashes fluttered closed, and Nico had to scramble for something to cover them both as Maki passed out.

“Wow.” Nico sat, catching her breath, back braced against the stanchion that had managed to survive upright, redhead snoring at her side, under a beach towel. “But what the hell?”

Maki muttered and Nico hushed immediately. Now was not a time for Sleepy Beauty to be wide awake in beast mode. Nico was thinking.

A/N: Twitter, where I live, was in a Bodyguard AU mood so it got me thinking. And all this Maki X Not Nico stuff also got me grumbling. And here we are. Can't promise when the next chunk will come, as I am working on finishing Apocalypse Midnight Dance Party chapters (and Tiger By The Tail) but I wanted to post this start. Enjoy. And stay safe. And drop me a song for my Soldier Game playlist.

[eddieeatsass]

Stripped Bare - Chapter 1

Summary: Eddie gets an offer from his company to work in Barbados over the summer. Beautiful weather, all expenses paid trip, and a stay in a suite at one of the most highly rated resorts in the world. How could he say no? Unfortunately, Eddie soon realizes there were a lot of reasons to say no. His skin doesn't take kindly to the harsh sun, his suite ends up being the size of a shoe box, and, oh yeah, it's also a nudist resort. Pairing: Reddie (side Benverly and Stanlonbrough) Rating: E Warnings: Eventual smut, explicit language

Read on AO3

Dear Eddie Kaspbrak,

Having you work for us at our Portland location for the past five years has been an enriching experience. As sad as we would be to see you go, we must ask if you would be interested in working over the summer at our Barbados location, as it appears we will be short staffed. Your entire trip would be covered, as well as your stay in one of our suites for the duration of your work period. If you’re interested, please let us know as soon as possible.

Included is a PDF file with the additional information about our Barbados location.

-  Wise Resort and Spa

Eddie reread the e-mail three times as he rubbed sleep out of his bleary eyes. Checking his e-mail first thing in the morning was a habit that didn’t result in the best retention. His brain struggled to put together what he’d just read in layman’s terms, AKA, early morning terms. His company wanted him to work in Barbados… and they were going to pay for it? There had to be a catch, but in his current state it seemed like the universe had finally taken pity on him. A vacation in Barbados was exactly what he needed to cut through the boring routine that had become his life. Granted, he’d be working the whole time, but he’d be doing the same thing if he stayed in Portland so why not do it wrapped in the warmth of the Caribbean sun instead? Without over thinking it, as Eddie is prone to doing, he shot off a confirmation e-mail and chucked his phone back on to the pillow next to him, burying himself deeper in his comforters to daydream of new desires.

The flight was god awful. Eddie ended up squished between a woman with a screaming baby, and an older man who needed to squeeze by Eddie to go to the bathroom every 10 minutes. Eddie was just starting to question if taking this job had even been worth it when he chanced a glance out the window. Past the thin haze of clouds was an expanse of the bluest water he’d ever seen, glittering as the sun cast down on it. It was like a completely different world from Portland, and a completely different planet from the small town he’d grown up in. It felt like a physical disconnect from the life he’d lived up until now.

The flight attendant’s voice crackled out of the speakers announcing their beginning decline to the ground. As if everyone around him had synced up to his newfound feeling of freedom, the baby beside him finally settled down, and the man on his other side controlled his bladder for the remainder of the flight. Twenty minutes later and they were touching down.

The entrance to the resort was eerily similar to what Eddie had ingrained in his brain alongside a feeling of dread, only the backdrop was entirely different. Bright green palm leaves shook in the wind, rustling the trunks they sat upon with dangerous vigor. The sun was already beating down against Eddie’s skin relentlessly, but it also shone out from behind the giant sign announcing the resort’s name. It was oddly beautiful, something so familiar yet so new. It was an invigorating feeling.

Eddie walked into the main building with a bit of a pep in his step, confident enough as he strode up to the front counter and greeted the friendly face behind it.

“Hi, uh, I’m supposed to start working here this week? I’m the transfer from Portland.”

The man behind the counter smiled wide, a friendly grin that revealed rows of perfect white teeth nestled between full lips and dimpled cheeks. All that combined with smooth dark skin and defined muscles nearly had Eddie swooning before he could respond to the guy’s next comment.

“Eddie! We’ve been excited for you to arrive. I’m Mike Hanlon, I’m your supervisor.” he extended a hand towards Eddie. Mike’s hand completely engulfed Eddie’s own and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t send a little jolt down his spine.

“I’m a bit busy right now,” Mike continued, clearly not having noticed Eddie’s flush. “But Bill over here can show you around.”

Mike clapped a hand on the shoulder of another form, a body that Eddie had somehow completely missed during the greeting. He had his back turned and was busying himself with something behind the counter, but at the mention of his name, he gave Mike his full attention.

The man was cute. Like, next door neighbor crush cute. Was Eddie going to fall for every semi good looking employee at this resort? So far it was two for two, so the odds weren’t in his favor (or were, depending how you look at it).

Cute neighbor boy, Bill, Eddie corrects himself, stepped out from behind the desk and slung his arm around Eddie, completely bypassing the courteous approach Mike had taken.

“Alright fresh meat, let’s get you acquainted.”

Bill was tall, and Eddie struggled a bit to keep up with his pace and pull his suitcases behind him at the same time. When Bill noticed, he removed his arm from around Eddie’s shoulders in favor of picking up both suitcases and carrying them along as if they weighed nothing. Eddie wanted to be embarrassed about the difference in strength, but Bill gave him no time, already back to rambling on about the do’s and don’ts of the job. Eddie realizes he should be listening, knows he’s probably missing out on important information, but watching the way the muscles in Bill’s back tensed up as he walked was much more favorable.

When he’d finally finished ogling his new co-worker, they’d arrived in front of a small wooden door.

“37B.” Eddie reads aloud.

Bill nods, putting down one of Eddie’s suitcases so he can fish a card out of his pocket. He swipes it through the lock on the door and a little green light announces their permission to enter. Pushing open the door with his shoulder as he grabs Eddie’s suitcase once again, Bill welcomes Eddie to his room.

“So, this is where you’ll be staying for the next three months.”

Eddie takes in the room around him. It’s tinier than he’d expected, definitely not the ‘suite’ he’d been promised, but it was cozy. There was a small bed pressed up against the nearest wall and sliding glass doors that opened up into the courtyard. A small dresser and closet decorated the room, with not much else to show for. The adjoining bathroom held a shower bath and a toilet close enough to the sink that you could shit and wash your hands at the same time. Quaint, Eddie thought.

“This is the employee floor, so you won’t run into any guests while you’re down here. My room is just down the hall.” Bill supplied.

“Oh, are you also a transfer from out of town?” Eddie asked curiously.

“Nah, I just like staying here. I work such early shifts it’s easier than making the commute every morning, so boss man lets me stay here when there’s empty rooms, which there almost always are.”

The words from the e-mail ring back in Eddie’s mind. Short staffed, they’d said. The resort seemed pretty busy when he got here, so why would they have a problem with employing people? Unless the management was terrible. Oh no, what if the management was terrible? What if Eddie was stuck working with horrible people for the duration of the summer? He should have taken more time before responding to the e-mail, should have done more research, should have read reviews and called around and-

“Wanna head down to the pool deck?” Bill interrupted Eddie’s snowballing thoughts.

“Sure.” Eddie managed, giving Bill a tight-lipped smile as he tried to swallow down his anxiety.

They left Eddie’s suitcases in his room and made their way down to the deck. Bill finally mentioned what his job was, he was the lifeguard, meaning him and Eddie would be working the same area. Eddie was relieved to hear that he’d at least know someone on his first day.

That relief left his body the second they stepped out on to the deck.

Penis. That’s a penis. That’s definitely, undoubtedly, a penis.

“Dude,” Bill nudges Eddie’s shoulder. “Rule number one, don’t stare.”

Eddie tries to avert his attention but lands on a pair of breasts. He averts it again, this time it’s lean tan muscles leading down to, yep, another penis. Another penis by the bar, a pair of breasts climbing up the pool later, an ass bending over to- Nope. Nope nope nope. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut as panic began taking over his body. What was going on?

A warm hand circled around Eddie’s bicep and turned him around, guiding him for a few steps until the temperature changed around him and noise became distant.

“Uh, you can open your eyes now.” Bill’s voice says, confusion evident but no judgement present.

Eddie only dares to peek one eye open, keeps it squinted in case he needs to shut the world out again. But all he sees is the ugly upholstery he’s used to seeing every day, green and brown leaf print that covers the majority of the furniture in the lobbies of The Wise. So, he eases his other eye open, glances around him in an attempt to re-orient himself, and then settles his gaze back on Bill.

Bill is sporting a subtle smirk he’s clearly trying to fight down, but there’s also distinct worry in his eyes.

“Well that’s the most dramatic reaction I’ve witnessed so far, sure you have the stomach for this job?”

Eddie’s brain short circuits.

“What job!?” Eddie squeaks.

All the humor is gone from Bill’s face now.

“Um, are you serious dude? This is a nudist resort. You knew that… right?” The hope laced in Bill’s question leaves Eddie’s heart hurting.

No. He didn’t know that. How was he supposed to know that! Isn’t that the kind of information you tell someone before offering them a-

Eddie can almost feel the ground disappear beneath him when he realizes it.

The PDF file.

He never read it.

The “additional information” Eddie decided to forgo reading. Because how different could one resort be from the next? Apparently, very.

Eddie had been silent long enough that Bill flagged down Mike from across the room. A soothing voice was coaxing Eddie back into this plane of existence, and once he was finally able to clue into some of the words being said he also felt a hand settled low on his back.

“-ecause if you need us to call someone or-”

“What?” Eddie interrupted Mike a bit too bluntly, watching Mike reel in relation to his tone.

“Sorry, I… What were you asking?” He recovered.

“You seemed a little zoned out there, I was just checking if you needed anything, or wanted us to call someone for you?”

Eddie blinked dumbly. He wanted to… help? Eddie’s old supervisor would have been yelling by this point. Eddie’s had enough panic attacks on the job to expect the worst once he pulls himself out of them. But Mike seemed to be genuine, and Bill was still wearing that worried expression he’d held previously.

“No, no, I’m fine.” Eddie nodded a bit too eagerly.

“Okay, if you’re sure… Well, hey, while I have you here, I have a bit of a favor to ask you.”

Bill’s ears seemed to also perk up at this, all attention on Mike.

“You wouldn’t happen to know any other employees from the Portland area who would be willing to transfer, would you? We just got word that one of our transfers quit last minute. We’d still be able to scrape by without her, but it would be a lot easier on all of us if we were a little less short handed around here.”

The answer was easy, Eddie really only had one co-worker in mind.

“Stanley Uris.” He blurted out, before thinking through his answer. Stan would never work at a nudist resort. But then again… If he didn’t know…

“Amazing! I’ll send in the request right away. Do you know him well? If you could talk to him for us, maybe put in a good word, that would be great. The last thing we need is another employee dropping out right under our noses.”

You could say that Eddie knew Stan well, if being best friends for the last 15 years counted. They’d stumbled into working for the same company purely by accident, going in for the same interview as a friendly competition and both coming out with a uniform and a name tag. It had been so exciting, finding out they were going to get to work together. It stayed exciting for approximately one week, until they discovered how terrible the job was. Well, the job itself wasn’t bad, but the environment was depressing, and the clientele was awful. Their boss wasn’t the worst man in the world, but he was stuffy and old and a bit too loud. It made Eddie skittish. He also had the sense of humor of rock, making any kind of playful banter completely null. Stan hated working there just as much as Eddie did, but they stayed there together out of solidarity.

So, yeah Eddie knew Stan well. And if there was anyone he needed in a time like this, it was Stan. But he’s not entirely sure how he would pull off convincing him to work at a place with naked people walking around.

“Is your co-worker going to be okay working here, what with…” To finish off his point, Bill gestured vaguely in the direction of the pool deck.

“Yeah, oh yeah, he’ll be fine.” Eddie tried to sound convincing. It didn’t work.

“Will you be fine?” Bill asked, that little smirk creeping its way back into his features, still not unkind.

Eddie sighed but nodded along. “Yes. I’ll be fine. As long as, oh dear god, wait, don’t tell me employees need to be nude too!?” Eddie’s eyes widened comically as he felt dread pool in his stomach at the thought.

Bill’s laugh was warm. “No, we have uniforms.”

“Oh thank god.” Eddie breathed out, earning another laugh from Bill. He joined in this time, feeling himself lightening up just slightly under the presence of someone with a calmer mind.

Later that night, as Eddie was getting ready for bed, he played over conversation scenarios in his head. He could tell Stan the truth, but then there’s no way he’d come. He could lie, but then there’s no way he could live with himself, knowing he’d conned his best friend into something he’d never otherwise do. But if he were to just… omit the truth… That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Besides, how many times had Stan tricked him into an uncomfortable situation? This could be payback for all the years of dragging Eddie to “a concert” (the Opera), “a casual hangout with friends” (a blind double date), or who could forget the “small family gathering” (IT WAS HIS AUNT’S WEDDING).

Before he could talk himself out of it, Eddie was pulling up his text conversation with Stan and shooting off a message, then slamming the phone face down on the counter as if it might be able to read through Eddie’s thoughts and judge him.

Eddie Kaspbrak: I may have put your name in for a transfer today.

The response came in surprisingly fast.

Stanley Uris: You did what now?

Eddie Kaspbrak: Come on, we could work together all summer like usual. You know you miss me.

Stanley Uris: I’m sorry who is this

Eddie Kaspbrak: Ha Ha very funny. Seriously, Stan, this place is beautiful.

Technically, not a lie. It was beautiful if you just held your thumb over the nude bodies standing in front of the sunset.

Stanley Uris: It’s Barbados, of course it is.

Eddie Kaspbrak: Soooo come enjoy it with me. It won’t be the same without you.

Stanley Uris: Are there lizards? Eddie Kaspbrak: What

Stanley Uris: Lizards. Are there lizards there?

Eddie Kaspbrak: I haven’t seen a single lizard since I’ve been here. Stanley Uris: Okay. As long as there aren’t any lizards. And as long as you admit that you can’t go a single day without me.

Eddie Kaspbrak: Seriously Stanley Uris: I mean, unless I’m reading this whole thing wrong and you actually don’t need me…

Eddie Kaspbrak: Fine. I can’t go a single day without you. You’re the light of my life, the yin to my yang, the sun shines out of your asshole. So, are you in or what?

Stanley Uris: I’ve been in this whole time. They called me a few minutes before you texted. I’ve got a flight on Wednesday.

Eddie Kaspbrak: Fuck you very much Stanley

[honeybeesandchocolate]

Three Things

1. It has been 4 months since I’ve graduated from my Masters program

Since my graduation I visited the West Coast for the first time in my life, I had my nasal operation, and I went on a 10 day Caribbean cruise.

San Francisco and the cruise were great. I honestly needed more exploration and relaxation. for those two separate vacations I thought of nothing but how great my day was or did nothing while a read with the horizon as my background. It filled my cup.

The operation tested me. I was very nervous to go through with it and did not deal with the pain well.  Too easily did I think that no one cared about me or that my emotional needs weren’t being met. But I’m able to breathe again and I no longer get random nose pain and nose bleeds. I don’t want to go through with it ever again.

2. I am currently working as an Americorps Vista Member by day and a Therapeutic Support Staff by mid-day

So I’m an Americorps Vista worker at this huge corporation in Philly. My coworkers are fantastic (for real.) and my supervisor is so understanding I’m still not even used to it.  I will ask permission and have all these reasons to back my case up and before I can even do all that they accept my case. It’s odd, but mentally relaxing.

I was just hired as a therapeutic/behavioral specialist for kids who have social and behavioral difficulties. I haven’t started yet but I have been going through training and I am a little excited and worried. Excited because this is completely brand new to me. Worried because I will be working late hours with children who are very difficult after a full day of work. But this will be good. I can feel it.

3. Mental Health is continuous WORK.

I have generally been feeling good about myself lately. In some instances I even feel, dare-I-Say, confident. Those are rare though. This week I had a particular conversation with a particular family member that went along the lines like          “ stop sitting around and get back to school”. This was hard to hear. And yeah, it upset me for the rest of the day. I was just coming to terms that my Masters degree was meant something and that I deserved it. My interviewer’s seemed impressed whenever they saw that I had recently obtained my masters. This is outside validation yes, but it helped a lot. Even though this family member probably didn’t mean put me back into a hole I was slowly trying to crawl out of, I found myself in that same space.

I won’t let myself stay there. In fact I am feeling a little better since a couple days has passed since that conversation. It also helps that my partner was with me and listened to me and let me cry. I’m moving on. I may not know what the heck I want to do after getting this degree but I know and feel that I definitely do not need to rush into another program. It’s okay to rest. It’s okay to take a break. I’m okay.

...

Currently Reading:

The Autobiography of a Tibetan Monk by Palden Gyatso

Queenie by Candice Carty-William

Currently Watching

Hunter x Hunter

[amuelle]

Hell is a place on earth....

Inner me: You better not cry…don’t you dare fucking cry! This is not the moment for you to be a pussy. DON’T BE A FUCKING PUSSY, DON’T FUCKING CRY!!!!!

Next thing I knew I was tasting tears and struggling to speak. I couldn’t breathe but what I wanted to say was more important than breathing at that moment. They needed to know that I was grateful for the job but I wasn’t sorry. This wasn’t the way I had imagined my disciplinary hearing would go. I didn’t think I would snap or be so emotionally heightened. I knew from the day I got the suspension letter that I was out of a job, that didn’t matter. People were unfairly dismissed here all the time and it was my turn to taste the blade. What mattered was that my loyalty had been misplaced. I had toiled, spent late nights, missed my nieces school concerts and FOR WHAT???? I was being ousted such that I’d have to forego my benefits, benefits that I had earned through my sacrifices. Whatever past sacrifices I had made for the company meant nothing now that I was no longer needed.

Ask most black women what they think about crying at work and they will tell you that they avoid it at all costs. Most women would rather come to the office sick on the cusp of death rather than cry at work. Its frowned upon not because it makes the men uncomfortable but because other women will make you feel like it’s unprofessional. They will ridicule you privately and overtly because the stereotype is that hard working strong women don’t cry. For your feelings to surface at work, it’s just a thing. I can’t really explain it, it’s deeper than rap. If you see a black woman crying over work related issues know that she is either ready to get into a physical fight or she has reached her boiling point. The experience of being chastised for doing my job had brought me to my boiling point. I had spent a year and two months of my life here and all the emotions of it had come to a head and resulted in TEARS!

I used to work at a place where the owner of the company was everything wrong with the world.  The CEO encouraged back biting gossiping and was always lying and conniving. Bold face lies were the breakfast of champions and no one was beyond a tongue lashing. One minuet you were useless, lazy, taking up space in the office and doing nothing the next your contribution to the organisation was invaluable and you were appreciated. Shady business at its best. The CEO had found me unemployed and offered me more than I was making before. Blinded by my deep desire to start taking care of myself again, I took a chance and danced with the devil. Everyone that I encountered told me that The CEO was the worst person to work for and I shouldn’t take the job. There were other opportunities out there they said. They weren’t in my position and when you talk from a point of privilege you are usually naïve. Empty pockets can quieten even the loudest, well-reasoned advice.

It wasn’t a terrible job, I was more than well equipped to do the work and remotely enjoyed it. What I wasn’t ready for was the layered individuals who worked there. I always kept to myself. I only really got to know The Tea Lady and The Grounds Keepers, who were lovely human beings but I maintained my privacy.

In my first few months My Supervisor and The Receptionist (both female) would gossip about me so that I could hear. They were never secretive about how terrible they thought I was at the job and how I wasn’t going to last long. Later I would come to know that The Receptionist had been trying to get me fired because she had been stealing and My Supervisor had felt threatened by my presence and that’s why she had actively decided not to mentor me so they could watch as I got things wrong and got reprimanded by The CEO. It was all relative. They didn’t sign my cheques and that motivated me to be incredibly cold and all about the job. Long as I was doing what I was supposed to, meeting my deadlines and my department was running at the optimum level I really was convinced that there was nothing more to deal with.

The company was understaffed and on occasion I would have to do things outside my job description. As a Procurement Manager and Junior Quantity Surveyor I often went to site, counted stock, organised trips and prepared payment certificates. I did a lot. When The Financial Controller went on vacation for three weeks and there was no one else to take care of her duties I moved office and wore all three hats. I used to wake up extra early and leave extra late to be able to do 33% of all the three duties and I managed. At the same time The Receptionist was caught stealing and arrested so now that just added to the plate. I was the stereotypical strong woman in the work place who got things done. I didn’t complain or refuse to work. I just carried on hoping for help and fortunately it came.

My work life was a mess. It felt like I was being sabotaged. I’d get notified of site meetings thirty minutes before they happened be totally unprepared and ultimately embarrassed. Getting late night calls from people about the worsening condition of their houses was now my daily bread. Tongue lashings for not knowing that the information I was getting was incorrect. I was always responsible when things went bad but when they went well, the team did a great job. Once my confidence had settled I decided it was time for a raise. I couldn’t do 3 jobs, get yelled at thrice and get paid for a quarter of one job. The CEO didn’t agree. I got a raise but the final offer was shockingly less than what we had agreed. I was disappointed, heart broken and consoled myself with the logic that half a loaf is better than none at all. I had watched a number of hard working people be cheated out of money they had worked hard for. Why oh why did I think I would be absolved???  

The company started to experience incredible difficulties. My Supervisor resigned in the heart of the tender season and two more people were hired to work in Procurement and I thought it was looking up. Then The CEO fell out with his right hand. When the suspension letter came I knew it was because I had taken an instruction from The Right Hand. The Right Hand would never be fired, but me, little old me was EXPANDABLE. After receiving the letter I typed up a hand over report and packed up all my personal belongings. My safety boots and highlighters were not being left behind in this hellish place! It hurt to be kicked out at the same time it felt incredible to be free from a bad working environment. Hell is a place on earth when you are in a bad job.

The day of the hearing. I slicked my hair back, wore just enough eye makeup and got there in my best “there is nothing you can do to ruin my day” dress. The hearing had already been decided before we sat sown. Close colleagues who were there when the events transpired couldn’t speak up because regardless of what they believed, they still need to feed their families. The biggest betrayal came from a Gentleman I worked closely with who gave testimony that made me seem like I had knowingly put the company at risk. I won’t ever say I didn’t go against a direct order because I did, it’s just that the direct order was flawed. What’s right is always what’s RIGHT!

I’ve learnt that I am my own business. I am the way I take care of myself and should never compromise and make great sacrifices for a business that isn’t mine. It used to bring me joy to meet my targets and submit tender documents against the odds but all that meant nothing for my bottom line. I had dedicated so much of my life force but once a replacement was hired, trained I was thrown away. The same company that I allowed to take me away from my family now had no need for me. What a wake up call!

My advice to you at this very moment is to BE MORE SELFISH! Unless you work for an organisation that is rescuing people from burning buildings in real time, you need BOUNDARIES. You are not your job. Even if you have chosen to focus on your career, you are still expendable and they will never not replace you. Don’t give them your soul in return for peanuts and pats on the back. These people are making millions off your back while you get a “good” salary.

It doesn’t matter if you are a high performer. Self-preservation should be HIGH on your list of priorities. Even if you take care of your family and need the job they would still rather have you over the money. Don’t hold the blade so long that you normalise the pain. It’s not supposed to hurt! Look for a new job or start a side business once you see yourself giving too much of yourself away. Reserve some of your skill solely for your personal gain.  

Many of the people I knew at that company have left. I don’t know the current situation and I don’t really care. I got a call two months after leaving from one of my ex co-workers asking what I was up to, I know he had been sent to ask if I’d take my old job back.  I would have never done that. Even if I had nothing but my pride and I was out on the streets I wouldn’t have gone back. I will never again sign up to suffer, you shouldn’t either.  Life is long and short at the same time, try your best to actually enjoy it.

 Bisou…bisou

[raynebowrayne]

New project I'm toying with. Whacha think, folks?

I'm tagging this with Reylo tags because that's the main focus of my blog and people there read my Ao3 Reylo Fanfic.

Here is an original story I'm working on.

***

He's like a male Molly Ringwald.

That was my first impression of Ben Johnson when he completed his first season on my favorite television show. In his rookie year as a celebrity his character had come on the show as the slightly odd and geeky but still charming and rather attractive in an unusual way that you could spend hours pondering without ever being able to explain the how or why of.

The next year he finished the season by winning the heart of the beautiful Esmeralda Crain, the central "beautiful young focal character" of the ensemble driven primetime drama that I watch with an almost religious fervor.

The show, "Finding Me" is an hour every week from June to September of pure unadulterated drama about a dozen just out of college, young people finding their way in the world. It's shot like a 'reality' show, but it's fully scripted and jam packed with amazingly talented actors and actresses. I can't get enough of it.

By season three I was blogging about it on three different social media websites, spending every second of my free time obsessing over the show. In truth, I spent my unfree time obsessing quietly while I check bags and wave a metal detector wand around people at my local airport.

Season 7 has just wrapped up and somewhere along the way, I fell head over heels for the character Miles Adams. I tuned in every week after season three just to see Miles. The other 10 people on the show were great, but Miles and Esmeralda stole the show in season three… and for me, in my obsessive frenzy, they became the pair I loved the absolute most. They were perfect together.

The actors who played them - Ben Johnson and Emmy Star (no, that's really her birth name, I googled her) were superb. By season 4 they were each making four times more money per episode than anyone else in the cast.

Of course, when they flew to vegas during the season four finale and got married during the airing of Miles and Esmeralda's own vegas elopement the internet exploded with the impact of an atom bomb.

Some people were flat out convinced that it had been a sham, a publicity stunt, a way to make the show more money so that it could afford Season five's pay raises for the entire cast, including doubling Ben and Emmy's already impressive salaries.

I never believed that. No way. Ben and Emmy, or Bemmy as I call them, have waaaay too much chemistry onscreen and off to be faking it. No, the show making more money was a natural consequence of having the most talented young cast ever assembled in one show. Period. End of discussion. Fin. I will not hear another word about it.

Of course, in every fandom you find trolls… With six couples, a lot of cross-relationship sexual tension, and a highly diverse cast season seven Finding Me's social media following is a breeding ground for fandom trolls. We real fans call them "antis." They whine endlessly about the show but for some reason wont just stop watching it. I do not get those people. They annoy me.

So here I am, in my cheap polyester uniform with my shiney little badge and clunky black patton leather steal toed boots, daydreaming about Miles' gorgeous, fiery, brown-eyed smoulder while I wave through a pretty blond that towered over me by a good six inches.

Mile's eyes have the most intense quality about them. He can literally boil freezing water with a single stare. I'm not sure at exactly what point he went from "geeky" to "omfg I totally would trade my soul for just one night with him" but I think it might have been the season two smouldering hot ten second stare down while stalking toward Esmeralda with pure unfiltered, unbridaled lust rippling off of him like heat waves off desert sand. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that was the moment.

Just the thought of that moment is enough to make me blush as I blink away the image. I glance up at the guy who'd just set off the metal detector as I pass the wand across his chest. I freeze. My brain crashes against my skull and I stand there gaping like a fish out of water as Miles Adams stares back at me in annoyance.

I blink.

No, not Miles Adams.

Ben Johnson.

Ben "omfg" Johnson is scowling at me. In the flesh. At MY airport! In Real Life!

I watched in fascination as the annoyed look melted off his face and alarm flashed ahead of concern that gave way to amusement and finally turned to exasperation.

"Breathe." He rolled his eyes and said, half mockingly - half coaxingly with a slight grin on his lips.

In Dolby Digital his voice caresses you like tattered silk, in real life, it's more like a cat's tongue.

His eyes widen and he half reaches for me. "No, really, you need to breathe."

Oh, god. His voice... is talking to me!

"Shit!" He hissed as his face, that incredibly expressive face of his, swam before my eyes.

I blinked and found myself looking up into his frowning face.

"Dear god, not again." Came an annoyed female voice. "They're never going to stop doing that if you keep catching them."

Ben turned a quick scowl toward someone above my head then looked back and asked me, "Are you alright?"

That's when three things hit me at once.

One, I'm cradled in his arms, across his lap as he squats down in front of the metal detectors.

Two, his eyes are prismatic, a totally different shade, ranging from black to amber-yellow depending on how the light hits them.

Three, I'm making a total ass of myself by continuing to stare at him - dumbstruck and drooling.

Reality set in with the suddenness and force of a high speed mid-air collision.

I apologized profusely as I fought my way through 10 tons of humiliation and panic to get to my feet. My mortification could not have been more complete… until I chanced a glance upward and spotted a trickle of blood oozing down his chin.

I have never wanted to cry so badly in my life.

Without another word I took off at a dead run for the nearest ladies room where I immediately screamed "Fuck!" at the top of my lungs. That didn't help much so I did it a few more times before I began ugly-crying my eyes out.

It took me a good hour to get control of myself enough to clock out amidst pitying glances and some snickering from my fellow security guards. I kept my eyes straight ahead as I walked briskly out to my car.

I'd been at Bluegrass for five years. I'd seen celebrities before. Admittedly, not many… but some! Johnny Depp once came through my line! I was calm, cool and professional. No sweat. Under no circumstances have I ever lost my shit over anything or anyone like I did with Ben Johnson. Not even close.

I called in and talked my supervisor into arranging two weeks worth of my accrued vacation for the immediate future. It was too easy. He had obviously been appraised of my blunder.

I hung up and cried myself to sleep at four o'clock in the afternoon.

The next two weeks were more of the same. Log in to check my blogs, weep as soon as I see a picture of him, log out and cry myself to sleep. Wake up, go pee, see myself in the mirror and burst into tears. Pull a burrito out of the microwave, set it on a paper plate, burst into tears.

About midway through the second week I got rip roaring drunk... at home… alone… with a half gallon tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and a half gallon bottle of Smirnoff.

It tasted terrible when it made an encore appearance later on.

As I lay there next to the toilet, in the fetal position, my hair wet from both sweat and vomit, I pondered my life and it's recent trials and tribulations.

The most comforting thought came to me as the room spun like a drunken tilt-a-whirl. It doesn't actually matter what happened when Ben Johnson unexpectedly jumped out of my fantacy and into my reality… I'd never see him again.

Another highly comforting thought was that my co-workers will surely have moved back to their favorite gossip topic, Shirleen Dabney's love life, and forgotten all about me fainting and then splitting the lip of my favorite celebrity by now. Surely. It's not like they're blogging about it. Shirleen's love life is way more interesting than lil ole me.

Shirleen is a tall, leggy, redhead with surgically enhanced ta tas and an ass like a fetishist porn star. She's been picked up and dropped off to work by twelve different men in the three months she's been at Bluegrass. Twelve! Different! Men! That works out to one a week. The security room is abuzz with gossip about her every second that she's not in it… and dead silent when she is.

With two more Shir-boys to gossip about, no doubt my little incedent with a t.v. star is long forgotten.

[strawberista]

reno-the-himbo-turk:

“They do use my name at work but to almost everyone at work i’m just security. The idea that I am someone special is absurd. Him calling me out would be odd as again to roughly all but the top 5% at the company i’m nothing more than one of 50 or more security employees. So for him to call me out by name is a giant red flag. Like if you went somewhere and gambled and you kept on winning money wouldn’t the pit boss or whoever was watching it go down would they not feel suspicious if you never lost? Well i’ve a week off from work they can do whatever they want while i’m no where near the property.”

As tempting as suggesting any of the ideas for meeting up to his bosses was Reno already had vague idea’s on how it would go, pulling out his phone he shot Hanekoma a look. “If I text my supervisor about CAT I’d be willing to bet two bottles of beer he comes back with some contrite answer about how a business owner wouldn’t stoop to that level or how he’s some kind of terrorist holding the company hostage and they won’t negotiate with him.” Reno clearly at this point was hoping to change the subject and maybe getting someone higher ranking conveying the same point might convince Hanekoma of the futility of this.

Hanekoma rolled his shoulders, "Then they clearly don't care about their company. But it's not my problem anyway. How long ya out for? I would take those days off to get some rest. Don't know why you're worried about them not paying ya for this vacation when you're apparently loaded anyway. How about you just put these coffees on your tab now? Ya won't owe anything since ya already paid for like a hundred of 'em anyway."

[comeliashawnae]

Sneak Peek

“Finally” I thought to myself. “It’s happening, it’s finally happening. I’m finally getting my dream job.”

I sat nervously in the lobby, waiting. I’ve been waiting for 3 years now, an unpaid internship for 1 year while working part-time at fast food restaurant. 2 years of working 3 different odd jobs and making friends with each boss to build up my resume. I’m finally done waiting.

“Michela Harley” said the secretary

“Yes,” I said standing excitingly

“She’s ready to see you now.” She said with a smile.

I walked past her desk and into the office, and there was my new boss, Ms. Elaine Blaze.

Elaine Blaze is the first and only woman to fully own and operate her very own office building. Not a 200 foot skyscraper, but a five story building in downtown Nashville was still a big deal. Elaine Blaze is a self made millionaire from publishing her own magazines. Four magazines, bridal, fashion, fitness, and nature, and they’re all operated from this very building. A publishing and marketing company with ties all over the country and she’s looking to build internationally, and I am going to be apart of it.

“Michela , so good to see you.” Said Ms. Blaze standing to shake my hand.

“Great to see you.” I said shaking her hand firmly with the biggest smile on my face.

“Well have a sit, lets get to business.” She said pointing to a chair. She pulled out a book from inside her desk. “Now your portfolio is absolutely amazing. Some photos are simple, but I don’t look at simple as safe. I look at it as practical. You have to know the basics, and you do.”

“Thank you” I said still smiling.

“But what I love precisely is this one,” she said turning my portfolio to me. It was a photo of a woman hanging upside from a building, that was a favorite of mines as well. We almost got caught trespassing for that. Well worth it to be sitting in this office right now.

“Just perfect, I love that you’re a risk taker. Exactly what I’m looking for.” She said with a smile. “But, of course, you do know this more then just taking pictures. I’m a seller. I own four magazines and they need to be every store all over the world. I have over 40 journalists. That’s 10 interviews per magazine. They talk to important people that everyone what’s to know about. That’s how we make the big bucks.” She said with a smile.

“But you, my lady, will be my fitness photographer.” She continued. “For that, the real cash is by promoting. We promote the fitness gear, the exercise equipment, the energy drinks, you name it. Yes that also means you will be taking the advertisement photos as well. We have sample products, we market them, and you take the award winning pictures.”

My smile just wouldn’t fade away. How could it? Top designers from all over the country come to be in her magazines. And I’m going to be apart of it!

“The job requires major traveling, hence why I never really target anyone with children. I fully understand that everyone has a life outside of work, but to pull someone away from their children six months out of the year is unfair. Reasons why I specifically target people like you. Young, eager, and hungry.”

“And I am truly grateful” I said.

“As am I for you and the ones before you.” Ms. Blaze said with a sincere smile. “Again six months out of the year is a long time to be away from someone, my last three employees left because they were ready to get married and start families, which they all had a right to do. But to make things easier for those already married or in committed relationships I’ve decided to help with the distance.”

If she’s saying what I think she’s going to say this day just got so much better.

“For the past two years I’ve made an exception. My offer to extends to spouses or boyfriends or girlfriends. Some photo shoots they will be allowed to attend, for you that’ll be more enjoyable since the meetings you’ll attend will last an hour tops.”

“That sounds perfect” I said eagerly.

“I see that you’re very excited,” she said with a smile “That’s a good thing, but still go home, think about it. Talk it over with whoever, get all your affairs in order.”

“My boyfriend and I have talked about traveling for years, getting paid to do it. This is a no brainer.” I said no longer able to hold my enthusiasm.

“Just what I love to hear.” She said standing from behind her desk. “It was pleasure seeing you,” she said reaching out to shake my hand again. “But seriously talk it over and let me know by Friday.”

“Yes ma’am” I said shaking her hand. “I might call you tomorrow.”

I left her office smiling ear to ear. I can’t believe this is happening. At 29-years-old I have a salary job. At 29-years-old I have a career. 4 years in college, while working full time then cutting it to part-time to do my internship, 4 years in grad school, while working full time. Any free time I did get went to doing freelance photography and graphic design. No more of killing myself. Its finally happening.

I cannot wait to tell Benson.

My boyfriend, Benson Varr, and I have been dating for 3 years. Can I say that we met at a difficult time? I can. I had just finished school, starting my second internship, with a job, it was a lot happening. But here we are 3 years later. Every breakdown and stressful situation he was there. No more of that. We’ll practically be on vacation. This day is perfect.

I made a stop at our favorite Chinese bistro and got all of our favorite dishes then made a stop at the liquor store and grabbed two bottles of wine. This is amazing. I can’t believe it. He can finally quit his job. No more struggling, we can just live. This is truly the best day of my life.

I got home and realized it was still early, he wouldn’t be home for another hour. Good I have time to spruce up our apartment.

I poured the food into some metal pans and throw them in the oven on low. I vacuumed the living and around the dining area. Cleaned off the table and pulled out some candles from the kitchen drawer. Pretty fancy for a Tuesday. I checked the clock again, he should home soon. I should change, just something simple, don’t want to get to fancy. He’s going to be so happy.

I rushed to the bedroom and got into some leggings and a sweater then I heard the locks on the front door open.

“Hey baby,” I said coming out the bedroom.

“Hey,” he said not really looking at me and throwing his jacket on the couch. “What’s for dinner?”

“Oh almost forgot,” I said rushing into the kitchen to turn off the oven. “All our favorites.” I said walking to the dining table with a pan.

“What’s with the candles?” Benson asked.

“Well,” I said bringing in the second pan and a bottle of wine. “I have some exciting news. You know my interview was today?”

“Interview for what?” he asked.

“Blaze Publishing.” I said, slightly annoyed, “I’ve only been talking about for a month now. My old career advisor was still emailing about potential job offers. Saw they had a mail clerk position open, thought it’d be smart for me to apply, as away to get my foot in the door. She was even sending samples of portfolio around.”

He shook his head.

“Two weeks after I applied my supervisor from the print shop had signed a 3 year contract with Blaze Publishing passed my name around and got me a meeting with the head agent. I’ve literally talked about this non stop.”

“Sorry, long day,” he said taking a seat at the table and helping him self to a glass of wine. “Well how’d it go?”

I let out a sigh but smiled. Nothing can kill this mood.

“Well, it went exactly like I thought it would it.” I said sitting down next to him. “It went better actually. Baby she offered me the job. Elaine Blaze, herself, offered me a life changing career.”

He had started making a plate for himself as I was talking. Which had me slightly annoyed again.

“Wait, this is the job where you’d be traveling?” he finally asked. At lest that means he’s listening.

“Yeah.” I said “6 months outta the year. Not straight, but yeah lots of room service and suitcases. All expenses paid for.”

“6 months?” he asked surprised.

“Yes”

“Mi, 6 months?”

“Ben, what’s the problem?” I asked.

“Baby 6 months,” said Benson “6 months. To where exactly?”

“The agent told me Germany for 2 months, maybe 3.” I said. “There’s an athletic company trying to sponsor people in the European circuit. At least 5 different people have confirmed there spots. There’s going to be lots of photoshoots. Lots of opportunity to truly brand myself as a real photographer. Not just an ole timey tourist shop worker.”

“But you loved that job.” Said Benson.

“Yeah I did, what I didn’t love was the $8.50 an hour. That wasn’t gonna keep these lights on.” I said.

“What about the print shop?” he asked “You just gon leave?”

I let out another sigh and looked away. He does not listen to me at all.

“I gave them my notice last week.” I said not still not looking. “I literally came home and told you that.”

“Mi work has been crazy the past couple of weeks, you have to repeat shit like this to me,” he said getting up from the table.

“Or you could just fuckin listen to me when I talk.” I said finally looking back him.

“Mi, you talking about leaving the country, what about the apartment? Your family? Me?” he yelled.

“Like I said,” standing as well, “If you would just listen and not interrupt I was getting to that.”

“Your mother would really want you to leave the country for 6 months?” he asked.

“I’m not asking anyone’s permission. I’m an adult!” I yelled. “But since you asked, yes she’s quite happy about it. I called her as soon as I left the office. She started crying. She’s happy her daughter is finally reachin her goals. I’m reachin my goals Ben. I thought you’d be the littlest excited.”

“Excited? Excited?!” he yelled “Mi you talking about leaving me to go fulfill some childhood fantasy.”

“No, I was asking you to come with me.” I yelled.

“Come with you?” he asked

“Yeah, Ms. Blaze is a multi-millionaire. She can afford for someone’s boyfriend to come along for a few photoshoots.” I said turning back to the table and pouring myself a glass of wine. “You sure know how ruin a nice evening.”

“Well what about the apartment?” he asked “I mean we just renewed the lease 3 months ago.”

“We could sublease it to my sister. She works 2 miles up the road, and I know she’s ready to leave daddy’s house.” I said with my back to him.

“What about my job?” he asked “I’m just suppose to leave cuz you said so.”

I put my glass on the table and turned to face him.

“Benson are you serious? Are you fucking serious?!” I said loudly. “You hate that job. You bitch about it every day. I’m offering you the chance to leave it and you’re bitching about that too. What the hell is wrong with?”

“What’s wrong with me?” he yelled.

“Yes,” I yelled back “What the hell is wrong with you? I’m offering the chance to travel and explore and you’re telling me no!”

We both got quiet and stared at each other in a tense silence.

“I’m not abandoning you Benson,” I said “I’m trying to start a life with you.”

“Start a life?” he responded “What marriage? Kids?”

“Duh” I said.

“You went and got thing put in your arm and now you wanna start a family? You so backwards.” He said.

I shook my head and looked at my arm. A few months ago I had gone three days without taking my pill. I was so busy with my jobs that I just forgot. As a precaution I just took them all the next morning, but my period was late. He was just as nervous as I was, if not more. But three home test and an ultrasound confirmed no pregnancy. Then my doctor suggested semi permeant birth control. An armband requires no surgery, it was a simple procedure and it’s good for 3 years. I love Benson, and I know he’ll make a great dad, like I’ll be a good mom. Just not right now.

“We both agreed on this.” I said, “We both agreed that we weren’t ready. I came home and we talked about it before any decision was made. Its not like I got an abortion.”

“You a trip” he said.

“Really?” I yelled “I’m a trip, when just a month before the pregnancy scare I said we should get a dog. An animal shelter came to the print shop needing banners and flyers made for a festival for rescues and I said we should get one. What was it that you said?”

He rolled his eyes and turned away.

“Oh you don’t remember?” I yelled “Let me remind you. You said that we barley have time and energy for ourselves and that bringing a dog into our home be irresponsible. That it would be unfair and selfish. That’s why we didn’t get a dog. But a human infant is less responsible. Makes perfect sense Ben!”

“You know what, I’m not in the mood for this.” He said grabbing his jacket from the couch. ”How bout I stay at my moms tonight,”

“Yeah you do that.” I said. He walked away slamming the door as he left.

I went back to table and grabbed the whole bottle of wine and went to the bedroom.

“He’s such an idiot.” I said out loud. This seems to be all we ever do anymore. Fight over the smallest things. Everything, even something great like this turns into a fight.

[unwiltingblossom]

Queen’s Favor (Mysme Jumin/MC AU 3/?)

Being a maid would be much easier if the cat would just let her do her job.

AU - Instead of joining the RFA via random text, MC is hired on as one of the maids assigned to Jumin Han’s penthouse. Nothing else about the setting has changed, the messenger and the RFA still exist, only the MC’s position has been altered.

The pacing is odd to me, but if it’s too slow I’ll just get stuck.

Chapter 3

A few days passed without accidentally bumping into the corporate heir (she’d been able to identify his actual position after a bit of questioning coworkers) or breaking anything, including herself. For being such good pay, it was a pretty simple job.

And apparently one of the perks was getting to play with the friendly cat and all of her ludicrously expensive toys. Though most seemed to be regular cat toys with diamonds or other frivolous things meant to increase the price pointlessly. Well, it wasn’t her money or her cat. She could hardly criticize someone for wasteful spending when that person had authorized a considerable paycheck for something that she’d have accepted less to do.

She planted her hands on her hips as she surveyed the room.

This was the beginning of her second week, which meant she no longer had a supervisor looking over her shoulder. If the penthouse had actually been difficult to clean in the time she’d been given they’d probably have kept two (or even three) people on it...but now that she’d gotten the hang of what this place required, there wasn’t any need for two. And apparently there were a few nightmares on lower floors that could use all the help they could get.

She wouldn’t thank a cat, but it was definitely fortunate that things worked out in a way to allow her not to need to deal with those.

So the master bedroom and the master bathroom were finished. There were still two guest rooms and a guest bathroom, as well as so many closets and two different offices. Well, most of those wouldn’t be very unkempt. The kitchen and the living room were the worst, and usually that had much more to do with the white cat than the heir. If not for the cat, he’d almost not need a maid, in her opinion.

Except for the messy dishes he left all over the kitchen, anyway. He didn’t seem to cook but it seemed like he couldn’t decide where in the kitchen (or sometimes his small dining room) dishes went.

The sink.

That’s where they went.

She shook her head and wandered toward the front room to collect her vacuum. She hated to work in wet clothes, so the dishes could wait. Elizabeth rolled around playing with some sort of feathered toy that reminded her more of a bird toy than a cat toy. The cat paused and looked up at her, meowing as she entered the room.

“It’s not my break time yet. I’ve got this loud vacuum to use first.”

The cat glanced at the machine in question briefly and then went back to its toy. Well, it could have been worse. At least her owner seemed understanding of maids who had no choice but to spook the feline with loud machines. Otherwise it would have been a far more difficult job.

As she made her way to the next room on her list, the front door rattled behind her.

But--it was only 10 am?

She turned quickly in surprise - last time the man hadn’t had any issues with her finishing her job, and had even politely given her a drink before she’d left, but that didn’t mean she should ignore him arriving at all.

...It certainly was not her employer.

“Oh!” The young man who stepped into the penthouse gave a little jump of surprise. “Ah, it’s the maid!” He laughed and waved a hand toward the red vacuum she held in both hands. “I thought you were holding a weapon and ready to ambush me at first.”

How could she have been waiting to ambush him when he didn’t even knock?

He certainly didn’t look like any of the employees she’d seen in the building - at least not the sorts who’d be allowed up in the penthouse when the owner of it was away. His clothes were so casual she’d expect him to have wandered in on the ground floor on accident except he couldn’t have made it all the way to the penthouse on his own. And he didn’t look lost.

He must have been a personal friend. Which...was interesting. How often did people as rich as her employer befriend people who looked like they’d rolled out of a bed in the clothes they were wearing somewhere in a suburban part of town?

With tacky tiger-striped glasses. Maybe he was actually a relative of some sort?

“I’m sorry, Mr. Han isn’t home yet.”

The man laughed again and nodded. “Exactly the plan!”

She frowned. “The plan?”

“Of course! Didn’t Jumin - I mean, Mr. Han tell you?” He placed a hand on his chest dramatically. “I’m Darling Elly’s cat-sitter! When he’s away at work I keep her company!”

If that were so, it would explain why the cat seemed determined to make her that, since he wasn’t around. But...

“I haven’t seen or heard of you.”

“That’s because I was on vacation!” He adjusted the tacky glasses on his face and brushed away a few strands of his red hair that immediately got caught in the frames, before giving a confident thumbs-up. “But I’m here now, so don’t worry! I’ll keep Elly busy while you work, and I won’t make a bigger mess for you!”

He really didn’t seem outfitted like an employee...but if his job was playing with a cat, it wasn’t like there was a uniform for that. And comfortable casual clothes that one wouldn’t mind rolling around in and potentially getting damaged alongside dirty would be appropriate.

And considering the toys the cat was given and the general amount of pampering Elizabeth clearly received considering the rules usually employed for maids, having a cat sitter wouldn’t be unreasonable. It also would explain why he’d made an exception for her cat interactions, if the usual entertainment were on vacation.

She squinted at him a few moments longer before sighing. “You’d better not make anything messier, or you’ll be the one cleaning it up.”

He immediately stood at attention and brought his hand up in a mock salute. “Orders received, Ma’am! I’ll be extra good!”

...Well at least it would make the rest of her job easier if Elizabeth wasn’t always a concern she needed to keep in mind.

She wandered off into one of the guest bedrooms as the red haired man started in toward the cat, chattering excitedly in something that didn’t sound entirely like a human language.

The spare bedroom was one of Elizabeth’s favorite places to prowl around, and it was mostly the only thing to fix about it. Things were knocked off of desks, the sheets were tugged on and mangled up by cat paws, and fur collected everywhere.

Still, it wasn’t more than ten minutes before she’d finished. The next thing to do on her list was the guest bathroom, so a vacuum wouldn’t be necessary for it. She wandered back from the room to the living room.

And dropped the vacuum in shock.

The so-called cat sitter spun in a circle in the middle of the room. It looked as if he held Elizabeth by her scuff with his mouth, but his hands were also holding her under her front legs, so maybe he wasn’t?

....He probably was.

“What are you doing?!”

The man jumped again, and in his surprise dropped the cat. “Oh! Sir Maid!” He waved a hand in a vaguely dismissive, shaking his head. As Elizabeth bolted across the room away from him. “Nothing! Cat sitting business! We’re just playing~!”

“That isn’t playing!” Had he ever touched cats before?! Was he messing with her on purpose...?

If he wanted to do that, she would have rather that he came in and made things messy than traumatize the cat. Her employer would be less angry if she were behind schedule than if the cat were frazzled or injured.

He laughed and shook his head. “Well of course it’s playing! I was being careful, and I’d never hurt Elly, I was just helping her be an airplane.”

“You’re not a cat sitter.”

He looked offended, and he stumbled back a step, the light of the sun glinting on his glasses through the window. “I am a cat sitter! I’m certified.”

“There’s no way.”

“It’s definitely true!” He looked around the room then, and upon spotting the white cat lurking near its tree, lurched after it. “Come back, Elly!”

“No!”

It might have been a drastic action, but it was an urgent situation. If he terrified the cat and made her start shedding or stop eating or injured it, she’d be the one the blame fell on. She wouldn’t lose her job over a weirdo who found his way into the penthouse, and she couldn’t afford to go call security while he could still attack the cat.

So, really.

She didn’t have any choice but to tackle him to the ground.

But he didn’t have to scream so loudly when she did it, like it was that much of a surprise.

[darnedchild]

Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Part Deux - Day 6

A/N:  I debated posting this today.  Wibbled quite a lot and was pretty sure I wasn’t going to when I went to bed last night, but then I talked to a few people, including my husband, and they told me to just do it so . . . Here it is.  TW: Domestic Abuse

On FFdotNet and Ao3

Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Part Deux - Day 6 - ___ Forever (Fanworks focusing on relationships, either long or short term, of any variety)

A Thin Line

… between love and hate

She doesn’t know why she did it.  

(That’s a lie, she knows exactly why, and it has little to do with what Sherlock has done to himself—although that is part of it—and more to do with her life, her past . . . her not so forgotten secret.)

Her hands sting, the palms still tingle.

“How dare you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with?”

“And how dare you betray the love of your friends? Say you’re sorry.’

He speaks, his words meant to stab at what he perceives to be her weakest point.  Her hands clench as she fights back the urge to slap him again.  The dead look in his eye is what keeps her hands still.

“Stop it.  Just stop it.”

Everyone in the room thinks she’s still talking to Sherlock.  If he weren’t coming down from his high, he might have understood that the words were meant for her alone.

No one notices her slip from the lab after Sherlock has made his odd exit.  No one sees her hurry to the closest bathroom.  No one hears her vomit up the contents of her stomach the moment she trips into a stall.

The voice of her mother echoes in her ears.  I always knew you would take after me, girl.  No matter what your father tried to tell you.  Blood will out.

She finishes her shift, then tells her supervisor that there’s a family emergency and she won’t be in the next few days. She’s got weeks of vacation time saved up, he lets her go with only a mild protest.  

By the time she’s begun to feel comfortable in her own skin again and returns to work, Sherlock has been shot.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

Visiting hours are long over when she creeps into his room.  It pays to be friends with the night nurse on duty.  She pulls a chair up to his bedside and watches him sleep for a few minutes, an hour, who knows.

Eventually he stirs, his pale eyes are unfocused when they first open, then she feels their full weight on her when he realizes she’s there.

She wants to ask how he’s feeling, what happened, is he going to be okay?

What comes out is, “I’m sorry.”

He seems to know exactly what she’s talking about. “It’s all right, Molly.  I deserved it.”

Her entire body tenses, the memory of bile teases at the back of her throat.  “No.  Don’t you ever say that.  You may have deserved to be yelled at, and argued with, and told what a fucking moron you are, but you didn’t . . . I shouldn’t have hit you.”

His eyes light up in understanding.  He knows.  He knows what she’s not saying, what she’s never said to him or anyone since she and her father packed up their things and left her mother.  

He edges his hand across the bedding toward her. A peace offering and forgiveness rolled into one, she thinks.  

She takes it.  Holds on to it as if she’s afraid to let him go.  His eyes flutter shut and he falls back asleep soon after.  She stays another thirty minutes, holding his hand the entire time.

When she comes back the next night, he’s already done a runner.  Idiot.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

She’s extra careful around him for the next few weeks, but Sherlock seems to have accepted the incident as his due.  (She knew that feeling, knew what it was like to believe she’d done something to earn a pinch, a slap, a push down the stairs.)  

Something happened after he was shot.  She doesn’t know what, no one feels the need to tell her, and the consistently angry look on John’s face keeps her from even thinking about asking.  All she knows is that John is living at Baker Street again, no one will talk about Mary, and sometimes Sherlock looks as if he’s going to break apart when he thinks no one is watching.

It’s mid-November when she finally begins to understand what’s draining him so.  She’s at Baker Street, has just asked Sherlock how Mary is doing, as she hasn’t been able to meet up with the other woman in more than a week?  He answers (She’s well, all things considering. Very tired, understandably.) and John storms into the kitchen from wherever he’d been lurking.

His lips are twisted in rage, eyes burning, his hands are fists.  “How dare you talk to her behind my back!  You’re supposed to be my friend, Sherlock!”  His face turns red, and she shrinks back from his rage even though he’s not even looking in her direction.

Her first instinct is to fold in on herself, make herself as small as possible so that he won’t notice her.  Won’t turn on her.

Then she notices that Sherlock hasn’t reacted. He’s not surprised by John’s outburst, it’s not a new experience for him.  He doesn’t flinch away from John’s anger, but he doesn’t defend himself when the smaller man encroaches on his space.  He’s letting John rant and rave, takes it as if . . . as if he feels like he deserves it.

Something snaps into place inside her.  The little girl that tries so hard to hide from her mother’s wrath transforms back into the confident woman she’s slowly become over the last ten years, and she physically shoves herself into the space between John and Sherlock’s bodies.

Almost immediately Sherlock puts his hands on her shoulders and pulls her back against his chest.

John has stopped yelling.  His mouth snapping shut mid-word at the sight.  He blinks, sets his mouth in a sharp line, and storms out of the room.

She slumps, her earlier surge of protective defiance gone. For a moment, she thinks she can feel Sherlock’s cheek against her hair, his hands gripping her shoulders just a touch harder.  Then he steps away.

“Don’t ever do that again.  Don’t ever put yourself between me and a threat again.”

She finds it telling that he’s just equated John with a threat.  But hadn’t she done the same thing?  

It was the tone of voice, the look in his eyes, the poorly suppressed memories of her childhood.  

She doesn’t really think John is abusive, honestly, just very bad at dealing with his feelings.  But when you couple someone who is known to blow up when he’s very upset, and someone (or a pair of someones in this case) who has been on the receiving end of too many “This is your fault!  You made me do this!” outbursts . . .

“Why do you let him treat you like that?  And don’t say it’s because you deserve it.”

He shrugs.  “John needs an outlet, and I can take it.  It’s the least I can do.”

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

“I’m sorry.”

She tenses at the sound of a voice, not Sherlock’s but still familiar and instantly recognized, from behind her.  She doesn’t look up from the titration she’s working on. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

John moves closer until she can just see the leg of his jeans in her peripheral vision.  She finally sets her sample aside to turn to him.

“I already did that.  Apologized to him, I mean.  I took a long walk and realized I was acting like an arse, and apologized as soon as I got back.  You were already gone or I would have . . .”  He trails off.

She waits to see if he’s going to say anything more. He doesn’t.  It’s probably for the best.

She nods once, sharply, and offers him a hesitant and not completely sincere smile.  

There are no more invitations to Baker Street while John is in residence, and she notices that Sherlock watches her closely whenever the three of them are together in the lab.  Cautious, almost . . . protective.

Sherlock’s late night visits to her home continue. He stops kicking her out of her own bed, insisting there’s room enough for two.  She agrees because the winter is cold and he asked.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

Somehow Mary is back in the fold.  

She’s pleased about it, happy to be able to talk to the woman she considers her friend without having to sneak around behind John’s back, as if she’d been doing something wrong.  Mary is heavily pregnant.  

Strangely, she’s not jealous of her friend’s impending motherhood.  She always thought she would be, if one of her close friends got pregnant.  She’s not sure she’ll ever be comfortable with the thought of having a baby of her own.  In the back of her head there will probably always be the worry that she might screw up her own child’s life as badly as . . . Instead, she’s simply happy for her friend.  

They bond over their lack of family, she never mentions that her mother is still alive.  

Mary and John are already calling her Auntie Molly. The incident at Baker Street is (mostly) forgotten.

Sherlock shows up one night, insisting he needs to stay over so he can think.  She almost asks him why he can’t do that at his place, she knows there is no John or Janine there to distract him anymore; but she doesn’t really mind his presence. She’s grown quite used to it.

She leaves him to do whatever he does on her sofa and curls up into her dad’s old armchair to read.

“Who was it?”

Her glasses slip down her nose as she looks at him over the top of her book, her contacts removed at the same time she’d put on her jammies.  “I don’t know, I haven’t even made it to the murder bit yet.”

Sherlock turns his head to look at her, he’s been laying across her sofa with his feet on the arm for half an hour.  “Not the book.  Who hurt you?  I’ve heard you discuss your father with fondness, so I’d say it wasn’t him.  I’ve never heard you mention your mother, not once. Odds lie in her direction, but it could have been an uncle, family friend, boyfriend . . .”

She turns her attention back to her book, although she can’t focus on a single word.  “She had a temper.  Dad knew about it before they were married, but she’d always managed to keep it in check before-before me.  One of my first memories is sitting on a blanket.  She put me in a room with no toys, no picture books, just the blanket.  Every time I tried to get up, or started to cry, she’d spank me.  I remember one day, I had to go to the bathroom, I was maybe four or five?  I knew that even if I managed to sneak to the potty, she’d hear it flush and she’d know I left my blanket.  If I left the mess in the toilet and didn’t flush, she’d still know.  I was trying to figure out which would be worse for me, but in the end it didn’t matter. I couldn’t hold it, and she punished me anyway.”

“Molly.”

She ignores him.  “The first time she hit me hard enough for it to show I was seven. Something got broke or I got my clothes dirty, I don’t remember what started it.  I do remember hearing that it was my fault, she hit me because I made her do it.  She told dad I fell, which was technically true as she’d knocked me off balance and I fell into the corner of the kitchen table.”

“Molly.”  She hears his voice break, and she knows she can’t look at him now or she won’t be able to get it all out.  

“Everyone thought I was just very clumsy, and by the time I was old enough to tell, she’d made it clear that no one would believe me. That the next time would be even worse if I said anything.  She made me believe I was stupid and ugly and burden.  She broke my arm when I was fourteen.  I was scared to death, threw a lamp at her.  She laughed and told me that she knew I had it in me.  I sat in the driveway, crying, until Dad came home. I wanted witnesses if she came after me again.  Dad, I think he suspected before then but he didn’t want to believe it was true, you know? But I flinched every time she went near me while we sat in emergency, and he finally . . .  He packed some suitcases and took us to stay with his sister the next day.  Mum put everything of ours out on the lawn and set fire to it that night, so we really had no reason to go back after that.”

She closes her book and sets it aside, finally looking up at him.  “Sometimes, sometimes I worry that she’s right.”

He’s off the couch and pulling her out of the chair in seconds.  His big hand wraps around the back of her head and tucks it under his chin. “You’re nothing like her.”

Even though she wants to, she doesn’t cry.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

Rosamund Mary Watson is perfect.

She takes her responsibilities as a godmother very seriously.  Little dresses, hair bows.  She even gets one of those Knitting for Dummies books and tries to teach herself how to make a baby blanket.  That does not end well.

John asks her to babysit while he and Mary join Sherlock on a case.  She gladly says yes, always happy to spend some time with Rosie.

Mary . . . doesn’t come home.

Mrs Hudson arrives at around midnight to watch Rosie. John has been home for over an hour, but he’s shut himself in his room.  

She takes a cab home; and isn’t surprised to find Sherlock curled up on her bed, still wearing his Belstaff.

She changes for the night and crawls in beside him, wordlessly pulling him into her arms so that he can rest his head against her breast. She hopes the steady beat of her heart provides him some comfort.  

She’s almost asleep before he starts to talk. He tells her everything.  Mary’s former life, shooting that horrible man, following Mary to hell and back.  Then his voice stutters and she can hear the tears threatening to fall as he tells her about that evening in the aquarium.  How Mary pushed him out of the way and ended up dying.  For him.

She knows from what he doesn’t say that his relationship with John has been torn asunder.  She presses gentle kisses to his forehead and helps him remove his coat, shoes, and jacket before tucking him under the covers and back into her arms.  He pulls her close and softly whispers “Thank you” against her neck.

Her heart breaks for Mary, for John, for Rosie, for Sherlock, for her.  It shatters into a million pieces and she gives herself permission to let it go for one night.  She’ll need to be strong for everyone else in the morning.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

She hasn’t seen Sherlock in weeks, possibly more than a month, not since the day he came by the Watson house and she’d had to turn him away.  It had broken her heart, but she’d respected John’s wishes.

Sherlock called her two weeks ago, given her the oddest instructions, but she’s always been used to him asking for the most random things. She shrugged and made arrangements and shows up with an ambulance just as he’d asked.

The sight of him, wasting away and high off his arse . . . She doesn’t hit him this time, thank God.  She stares at him from across the tiny ambulance space and asks why.  He makes his excuses, he always has excuses; and she simply nods, too tired and numb to even protest.  Nothing she says make a difference, nothing she does.  She means nothing to him and her words would carry no weight.  Why even try? She silently examines Sherlock and it isn’t until they’re parked and John reappears that her spirit returns.

“For Christ’s Sake, Sherlock, it’s not a game!”

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

She’s exhausted.  She doesn’t remember the last time she’s had more than three hours of sleep at a time.  Sherlock’s been released from the hospital (Makes a right arse of himself until the doctors all but push him out the door the second he’s well enough.) and spent his first night out at her place.  She has no clue if he slept curled around her for his comfort or hers, she doesn’t care.

Her eight hour shift at Barts seemed to stretch to twice that long before she’s forced to rush to John’s to pick up Rosie from the neighbour.  

There are times when the infant cries and wails that she just wants to call John and tell him that she’s done.  She can’t do this anymore.  When she agreed to be a godmother, she didn’t think it would mean . . . this.  It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

No matter how hard it is, no matter how much she wants to quit, she knows she will never abandon Rosie.  Never.

For a brief moment, it makes her think that someday, perhaps, she would make a good mother.

John comes home sometime around ten, he’s been at the clinic since noon.  He’s tired, she can tell.

She lets him get changed and showered, makes sure there’s a sandwich and crisps waiting for him on the kitchen counter because that’s what she does.  She steps in to take care of people because someone has to.  Because no one was able to do it for her all those years ago.

He thanks her, for the food and for watching Rosie, and helps her slide her coat on as she gets ready to leave.

“You’re a good man, John.”

He smiles, confusing making his mouth purse a bit.  “Thank you?  Why do I get the feeling there’s going to be a but coming?”

“No but.  Not yet.”  Her hands fiddle with the strap of her bag as she pulls it over her shoulder.  Even as the words begin to pour from her lips she wonders if she’ll be able to go through with it.  “I care about you, I really do.  You, and Rosie, and Mary.  And I know you love Sherlock like he’s family.  Just as I know he loves you.  Which is why it hurts me to know what you did to him.”

“What I-what?”  He blinks, as if he truly has no clue what she’s talking about.

“Did you forget I examined him, at your request, in the ambulance?”  She’s building up steam now.  “I know what damage he’d already done to himself when he stumbled off with you and that creep Smith.  You didn’t break two of his ribs ‘pulling him away’ from Smith.  I saw the bruises when I rewrapped his ribs last night, I recognize the signs of a man who has been beaten.  I also saw the lack of defensive wounds.  He let you beat him, let you kick him while he was already down.

She steps into his space.  He wasn’t as tall as Sherlock, it isn’t as difficult to meet his eyes to make sure he knows that she means every word she says.  “But I won’t.  And it’s because I care about you that I’m going to give you this warning; if you ever, ever lay another hand on him in anger, I will destroy you.”

He huffs and she smiles a nasty smile.  “Think about what I do all day, John.  I can make sure they will spend six months trying to recover your scattered body parts from all over this city.  Do we understand each other?”

He narrows his eyes, and she thinks he’s going to argue or threaten her back.  Then he deflates and nods, just once.  She steps away, needing to more space between them.  

“I’ll understand if you’d rather I not take care of Rosie for awhile . . .”

John considers it for a moment.  “No, it’s-it’s fine.  I know how you feel about him.”

Her head snaps up as her hand stills on her coat buttons.

“I’d probably have threatened the same if someone else had . . . It won’t happen again, Molly.  I swear it.”

She nods and walks out the door without saying goodbye. She throws up in a public trash bin less than a block away.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The call from a solicitor is unexpected and unwelcome. Her mother has died.

All she can think is “good”.  Somehow, she manages not to say it out loud.

“As her only surviving relative, the estate will of course-“

“I don’t want it.”  The venom in her voice should be easy enough to hear over the phone.

“Pardon?”

“I don’t care what happens to any of it, I refuse to accept responsibility for it.”  She hangs up the phone.

Tea.  Tea will . . . Well, it won’t help, but it will give her something to do with her hands.

She cries hot, horrible tears.  Made worse because they aren’t tears of grief, they’re tears of relief.  

Her phone rings and she thinks for one second it’s the solicitor again.  It’s not. It’s worse.

She ignores it—him—and lets the call go to her voicemail.

It rings again.

She hopes, futilely, that he’ll hear the strain in her voice and listen when she says she’s having a bad day and just agree to call back some other time.

“-just say these words.”

Simple enough instructions.  Perhaps it won’t hurt to play along for a moment and then she can get back to moping or celebrating or whatever she’d been planning to do.  “What words?”

“I love you.”

For one split second she knows she’s seconds away doing something she’ll regret.  She pulls the phone away from her ear and tells him to leave her alone as she prepares to cut him off.

He’s talking, and for some stupid reason she’s listening.  

“Why are you doing this to me?  Why are you making fun of me?”  After everything she’d done for him over the years, everything she’s already forgiven . . .

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

“I love you.”  She whispers the words into the phone, lips nearly pressed to the screen as if they were meant for his ears alone.

She’s not surprised when he hangs up immediately. He’s never been one to waste time when he’s on a case.

She’s thankful that she’s not supposed to pick up Rosie until that evening, and then only if John wasn’t back from wherever he and Sherlock had buggered off to for their case.

She takes a shower, hoping the sound of the water will drown out the echo of Sherlock’s final “I love you” in her head.

It doesn’t.

The phone call she’s half-expecting/half-dreading comes, but it’s not from John.  Greg, of all people, tells her that John will be going to hospital to get checked out, and John needs her to pick up Rosie because he may not be home before morning. John wants—no, needs—her to stay at his house, it’s very important they don’t go back to Molly’s.  Greg doesn’t know, or won’t say, why.

She does it for Rosie, because Rosie is a child and should not be punished for the actions of her insensitive godfather and his irritating friend . . . who was going to hospital.

Oh, God, what if they were both hurt, she wonders. Greg hadn’t said anything about Sherlock, but he’d only called to pass on a message about Rosie’s care.

She spends the entire night after Rosie’s asleep curled up in on John’s sofa.  Waiting. Dreading.  Sick to her stomach.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

“Molly.”

She knows that voice.  She’s heard it hundreds of times.  He’s tired, raw, exhausted.  She can tell all that without even opening her eyes, she knows him that well.

“Molly, wake up.”

Arms begin to slide under her shoulders and in her head she realizes he’s probably just trying to pick her up or make her more comfortable, but her body reacts on protective instinct and she’s pushing away from him hard enough to make him stumble.  She’s on the floor, arms up and head tucked, before her eyes fully open.

Sherlock steps back, palms out, and silently waits for her to get to her knees, then stand.

“I’ve startled you.”  He’s stating the obvious, never a good sign with him.

She looks around, orienting herself.  Still John’s sitting room, the sky is still dark. “Where’s John?  Is he okay?  Greg said he needed to go to hospital?”  She wants to ask if Sherlock’s okay, but the words stick in her throat.

“We had a really stressful day, then he got shoved in a well and almost drowned.  Probably shock and a bit of hypothermia.  Mostly a precaution really.”  

Not as reassuring as he probably thought it would be.

“And you?” she asks as she wraps her cardigan closer around her middle.

“I did not end up in a well, so you could say I faired a bit better than him.  Mycroft is recovering at home, he refused to seek treatment.”

“Mycroft?” she gasps.  “What the hell happened to you, all of you?”  Somehow, she’s managed to temporarily forget their earlier phone call. Or, perhaps, she’s just let herself pretend she’s forgotten.

He opens his mouth, then closes it.  Then he nods his head as if he’s made some sort of decision, and opens it again.  “I’ll explain, everything.  Just, can I ask one more thing from you first?”

Warning bells go off in her head.  She takes a step back and nearly falls over the arm of the sofa.  “Sherlock.” It comes out in a low, warning, pleading tone.

“I know I hurt you, but I need . . . Please, may I hold you?  For just a moment, I just need to feel you, to know you’re safe.  Please.”  He looks so sincere, so unsure.

Against every self-preservation instinct she has, she closes the distance between them and steps into his arms.

She feels his lips against her hair as he says,  “I love you.”

[canaryatlaw]

Alright, so today was pretty good overall. Woke up to my alarm at 7, took approximately 3 minutes to get out of bed but I made it. I was running a few minutes behind for a couple of reasons so I figured instead of running out the door to make my usual bus I could take the next one since my supervisor is on vacation (and let's be real, nobody gives a fuck what time I show up). Of course it's annoying that the buses either get me there at 8:50 or 9:15, lol, but it was fine. Got the orders one of the attorneys said she'd leave for me, and spent about 2 hours in her office tracking down the files to stick each of the orders in, which isn't just boring but also difficult because those files are way too damn heavy (imagine an accordion folder stretched to capacity and ripping open on the sides. Not exaggerating.) but I managed to get that done and then, as I expected, I had nothing to do for the rest of the day. I did make several bids to the attorneys I work under that I was free if they needed me to do anything, but nobody took me up on the offer, so I did the reasonable thing to do, which was of course to return to my desk and read fanfiction, lol. I don't like going on Facebook or tumblr on my work computer (I'll just use my phone for that since I have unlimited data finally) so my entertainment is somewhat limited, but I also got to get some random emails and things done, and I got an appointment for Friday for the X-ray place I found that can hopefully help me out. Yay adulting! The office was also holding a muffin contest today for some reason, lol, so I got to go and sample the ones in the different categories and vote haha. Most of them were quite good (though I admittedly didn't try any in the "healthy" category, lol). Went back to my desk and ate lunch, then tried to find out if there was anything going on in court to watch, but there wasn't, so I returned to reading more fanfiction at my desk, lol. Left at my usual time and made it to the other courthouse with some good time yet. I was a witness tonight and I hadn't pulled a really ridiculous witness in a while, but I didn't really intend for this own to happen, it just sort of did lol. It was a car accident case, and part of the facts we semi-made up was that my "wife" was pregnant so I thought just for kicks I'd refer to her as "my wife and little Tommy" and I realized in my head I said that with like a southern redneck accent and it all kind of blossomed from there, lol. The rest of the class was alright, the first case was pretty standard, and then ours was all over the place. I'm with the guy I'll be partners with for my final trial, and he's good but he definitely already thinks he's a hot shot lawyer and tries to pull all sorts of shit that's admittedly hilarious. And then the other lawyer was the 3L girl whose work is always rather cringeworthy, so between the two of them I was waiting for it to be my turn to get on the stand and turn this thing around, lol. It didn't help that my lawyer forgot to right a cross of the other witness, so he had to do it on the spot and was sort of ridiculous. So I just get up there and go for it, absolutely ridiculous stereotypical accent in place and oh, I had every in stitches. It was so great, the other students were laughing, the judge were laughing, and the lawyers and other witness were laughing. I just kept super over-enunciating words to the point of ridiculousness but I swear it worked so well. We had gotten into an earlier discussion about the length of a city block, as if was related to how far away the car was when the light turned yellow, so we were going back and forth on that, and the other witness was an architect so he should reasonably have a good idea of measurement. So then on cross I get asked what my profession is, which just straight up isn't in the problem, so I go with the most random thing I could think of and said I was a baker (in full redneck accent, of course) and then she asked if that involved a lot of measuring and I was like "well measuring flour, not street distances" and at that point the whole thing had just gotten so ridiculous everyone was in stitches and I actually broke down on the stand and couldn't stop laughing because it was beyond hilarious. The judge at that point was basically like okay that's enough cross, we can leave now so we headed home. I sped home as fast as I could on a train and two feet of course, and immediately flipped on legends, which I'm feeling.....odd about. I may make a longer reaction post once I've contemplating my feelings on it a bit more but right now I just knew in feeling a lot of emotions but I don't know what they actually are and how it relates to my feelings regarding them going forward, Len in particular of course. It just seems like there's gonna be a lot to wrap up in one episode, and there's been pretty much no discussion of actually getting him back in one way or another, but I hope of course that's something that becomes part of their inevitable reconciliation and fixing reality. Okay, I thing hide are enough of my feelings for now, maybe more at a later time this week. Right now eyeballs want to be closed so I will be doing that now. Goodnight my sweeties. Have a lovely night.

[kinetic-elaboration]

June 3: Library Retreat

...I’m currently doing TWO write-every-day projects. Why? Why do I do this to myself?

Anyway, I really need to eat and also I might be watching Incubus soon (??? it’s getting kinda late but like I’m still awake and would be up for it... We’ll see.)

Today was an odd day. I went to the Library Retreat from the very odd hours of 10-2, which was at this...like generic meeting space in the community where the library director lives. The space was really nice... I’m not sure how to describe the community. Gated? One of those named communities that exist all over the place here. The meeting room was just... a room but the outside was beautiful, a nice lawn and a gorgeous lake with a little gazebo (two little gazebos, actually, one on the lake and one up on the lawn), lots of Canada Geese, and (allegedly) a bald eagle.

I forced myself to get up in time to do some work before I left, and then I got picked up by my supervisor, who was also driving the head of circ. They’re very good friends, so I just sat in the back and listened to them chat and bicker, which would be awkward, except I’m used to it.

The weather was muggy when we arrived and threatened rain. We spent the first hour outside, basically doing, like, picnic like activities? For Bonding Purposes. Can’t complain. I like my coworkers and did miss them. I mainly played a version of Yahtzee, with giant dice, with the head of reference and the cataloguer. Yahtzee is actually quite difficult! Especially with giant dice, played on the non-flat surface of the yard.

Then for hour 2, we got into small groups and discussed our “homework,” a little work sheet with questions we’d gotten the previous day. If this sounds like middles school... it felt like it too! I was very angsty about it yesterday but in practice, my groupmates were chill and we just had a generic talk about the last year and the upcoming year (I was with the head of Reference, a notoriously gregarious person, and the head of circ, a notoriously grumpy person but with a lot of relevant expertise). I felt like I contributed decent points. The whole ‘short term planning’ section of the day, though, both small group and large group discussion, was only an hour, and it wasn’t really enough time.

For hour three, we had lunch. My sandwich was delicious and I had such a good discussion with the two aforementioned people, first about conspiracy theories and aliens, then about Roadside Picnic (head of circ had read it so that was fun! I think I described the plot fairly well in summary, though I’m always bad at that on the spot), then about the ADKs and nature and New England and weather and stuff.

Finally, we had an hour devoted to long term planning, which I was dreading. In practice, it wasn’t so bad. We got a semi-answer to the ‘what’s up with the reading room’ question--but imo I didn’t really learn anything new, only confirmed that there is no plan and this is a bad idea. I’m still upset about it, but I don’t feel anything very much right now, I think because my vacation did succeed in chilling me out. The other long term projects gave me no particular emotion. Head of circ is really anti the CDL project, but I feel like for once a library project won’t really involve me/my department so I’m like...shrug emoji.

I felt like the retreat could have been longer tbqh. I mean only 2 hours for ALL the planning for both 2021-2022 and the next 5 years?? Mmmkay. Also I did not want to do work when I got home.

We took some time to clean up, and then of course commute home. By then it had started raining, and by the time I returned to work (lying in bed, literally, and ordering books) it was pouring. This, combined with All That Excitement, made me very sleepy. I didn’t actually sleep, but I haven’t done anything else this evening either.

I brought a mask to the meeting because I still... assume that’s a thing. Plus, even though we weren’t on university space, it is still a university rule. So I don’t know. Tumblr has perverted my brain and makes me assume that everyone at all times thinks other human beings are inherently disgusting. But no one else was wearing them and we decided early on that we were all comfortable with each other, especially since everyone present had been fully vaccinated. I wasn’t bothered either--I just fear being judged. Anyway, it was nice not to have to worry about that.

I can’t believe tomorrow is Friday. I don’t feel like I have to go to work but it also doesn’t feel like a weekend. Tbh I don’t want it to be a weekend. I would waste it if it were. I want to spend the day reading journal articles and not being bothered, and then maybe treat myself nicely, and be ready for Saturday. The next two weeks are just... too much for me. I don’t want to deal with them. So I have to approach everything one day at a time.

[jenniferfaye34]

#Giveaway + Excerpt ~ Just A Name by Becky Monson... #humor #books

Just a Name by Becky Monson Holly has a plan for everything. But she never could have planned for this. If there’s one thing Holly Murphy loves, it’s a solid plan. She has her entire life figured out—or so she thinks. But when life pulls the rug out from under her, she’s left to deal with a canceled wedding—hers, to be precise. And the promotion she’s worked toward for years is now in jeopardy because the team she supervises doesn’t like her management style. Thinking that Holly is too tightly wound and needs a break from everything, her boss demands she take a vacation. But how can she take a vacation when her promotion is on the line? Trying to help out, her best friend, Quinn, suggests she still go on her honeymoon and conduct a nationwide search to find a man with the same name as her ex-fiancé to use his plane ticket. Leaving Holly to wonder if she’s the only sane person left on the planet. Yet when her boss gets wind of the idea and loves it, Holly finds herself in a corner she can’t get out of. And when handsome Nate Jones from Newport Beach gets picked to go with her, she wonders if this whole thing won’t be so bad after all. Can Holly learn to let go? Or will this crazy adventure send her running right back to her safety net?

Get your copy on Amazon

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Praise for Just A Name “Just a Name is a delicious escape! I devoured every character, every moment, and every quirk and couldn’t get enough. This book is Becky Monson at her finest!” -Author Whitney Dineen “Becky Monson has outdone herself with Just a Name. It’s FANTASTIC! I’m still swooning.” -Author Jennifer Peel “Fans of romantic comedies should grab a copy of Just a Name; it has the perfect balance between sweet and sassy.”-Readers’ Favorite "Full of fun, swoon, and humor, all topped with unexpected twists. I thoroughly enjoyed my time in these pages!" -Katie's Clean Book Collection "I loved it. Becky Monson is so good at writing humor into her books. Sarcasm and wit reign supreme right along with a slow growing romance." - Aimee Brown from Getting Your Read On Excerpt: I hate today. Which doesn’t bode well, since it’s only eight thirty in the morning. This is par for the course with my life right now, since the past three weeks haven’t particularly been my favorite either. Before that—which feels like ages ago—I was feeling like I was on the right path. Like everything I had planned for myself was happening. And I actually remember thinking, “Life can’t get any better.” Clearly, I jinxed myself. Because my life is not on track. Not even close. Lately, every morning I wake up with hopes that this will be the day when things will look up for me. The day my life will take a turn for the better and I’ll get myself back on track. Apparently, today is not that day. Right now, I’m sitting in an air-conditioned office, holding a piece of paper in my hands, staring at the words in front of me and trying to make sense of it all. The top of the paper, in bold lettering, says, “CT Anderson Bank,” and underneath it, “Holly Murphy—Supervisor Assessment.” Under that are a whole bunch of words I can’t believe I’m reading. Words like “too controlling” and “micromanaging” and “not a team player.” It’s all there, in Times New Roman, eleven-point type. Coincidentally, these are some of the words Nathan—my ex-fiancé—used when he called off our wedding nearly three weeks ago. He even used the words “not a team player”—whatever that’s supposed to mean. And this was all only a little over two months before we were to marry. Way to kick me when I’m down, Life. Author Becky Monson By day, Becky Monson is a mother to three young children, and a wife. By night, she escapes with reading books and writing. An award-winning author, Becky uses humor and true-life experiences to bring her characters to life. She loves all things chick-lit (movies, books, etc.), and wishes she had a British accent. She has recently given up Diet Coke for the fiftieth time and is hopeful this time will last... but it probably won't. Giveaway Details $50 Amazon Gift Code or $50 in Paypal Cash Ends 11/27/18 Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use money sent via Paypal or gift codes via Amazon.com. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. This giveaway was organized by Kathy from I Am A Reader and sponsored by the author. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW. a Rafflecopter giveaway

[ultrasfcb-blog]

Pigeons, punches & tattoos - the addictive world of Scottish soccer

Pigeons, punches & tattoos - the addictive world of Scottish soccer

Pigeons, punches & tattoos – the addictive world of Scottish soccer

Objectives, gaffes, howlers & purses – Scottish soccer able to return

When the information got here via from Hampden that a lifeless squirrel had dropped out of the sky throughout the League Cup tie between Queen’s Park and St Mirren, confusion reigned – but once more – in Scottish soccer. A lifeless squirrel? Falling from the heavens? How?

The story was, in fact, unfaithful. A spokesperson for Queen’s Park revealed it was, on inspection, a pigeon (decapitated) and never a squirrel that had plummeted to its dying. The membership added sombrely on Twitter that their ideas “are together with his flock at this unhappy time”.

A month earlier, Ayr United supervisor Ian McCall was doing an interview on the finish of a pre-season pleasant in opposition to Forfar when a seagull crashed to earth beside him. “I am actually not completely satisfied about this,” stated McCall. It wasn’t solely clear what he was referring to – his workforce’s efficiency or the very fact the bereaved seagull’s wider household have been hovering menacingly above his head on the time.

I am a late convert to Scottish soccer. Rising up in Limerick, save for the occasional clip of Celtic objectives tacked on on the finish of a sports activities bulletin on a Sunday night time it was by no means seen on our screens. You had Manchester United and Liverpool, Leeds and Spurs, West Ham and Arsenal and you then may need had Celtic. Past that, Scottish soccer did not exist.

We have been lacking out. From about 2005, I began to take notes in regards to the madcap surprise of the sport on this nation and wrote newspaper columns in regards to the craziness of all of it on the finish of every 12 months. Some recollections of the bonkerdom nonetheless stick out.

Artur Boruc, then Celtic’s goalkeeper, getting a tattoo of a monkey’s backside on his tummy with the phrase ‘Rangers’ written on it. ‘There is a Rangers bum on Artur’s tum’ went the headline.

Then there was the more recent yarn in regards to the Celtic fan getting a ’10-in-a-row’ tattoo whereas inebriated on vacation in Magaluf after which waking up the subsequent morning with ‘Terry Munro’ etched throughout his chest.

There was Craig Brown, then the 70-year-old supervisor of Motherwell, punching an uppity official from Odense throughout a European tie at Fir Park. Brown was indignant when requested if the blow had related. “Oh aye,” he stated. “I undoubtedly hit him. I was fairly a helpful beginner boxer in my youth.”

There have been tales of blackmail and kidnapping and fraud and mysterious goings-on of all types. The Rangers saga may very well be a film trilogy.

Simply previously 12 months or so we have had Hearts constructing a brand new stand and forgetting to order the seats, we have had Ross County accidentally deleting their very own web site, we have had Inverness Caledonian Thistle somehow tweeting porn on their official account.

We have had a vomiting linesman at Kilmarnock v Dundee, we have had a well-oiled Rod Stewart doing the Scottish Cup draw on telly, we have had a bit of Celtic followers being informed by the membership that they’re a bit smelly and will wash themselves, we have had Kingsley, the weird-looking Partick Thistle mascot, saying he is running for office on Glasgow Metropolis Council.

And now lifeless birds are dropping out of the sky and endangering gamers and managers.

That is the weirdness that everyone revels in, however there’s extra to it. Attendances are on the rise. Intrigue is on the up, significantly for the reason that arrival of Steven Gerrard at Rangers, a narrative that reverberated round European and, maybe, world soccer. Gerrard, Brendan Rodgers, Derek McInnes, Neil Lennon, Steve Clarke, Craig Levein – that is a compelling solid of managerial characters on the high finish of the Premiership.

Scottish soccer will not be monied and it is not glamorous, however when it comes to tales and fervour it might go toe-to-toe with any league in any nation anyplace on the earth.

Neil Lennon hasn’t held again when celebrating this season.

‘In that second, you felt like applauding’

It is the eagerness, the all-encompassing obsession, that is addictive. For those who have been reared on the sport right here then it is in you and it is by no means popping out. For those who weren’t, however dwell right here for lengthy sufficient, you end up sucked into the vortex. And it is terrific in that vortex. Not everyone will get it, however who cares?

It looks like Scottish soccer followers are caring much less and fewer what outsiders consider their recreation. A living proof was the latest Adam Rooney enterprise. Rooney, one of many Premiership’s most constant goalscorers in latest seasons, was signed by Salford, a membership with deep pockets and famous owners.

A number of commentators in England – amongst them, Jim White, the exiled Scot on Sky Sports activities – puzzled what the switch stated in regards to the state of the Scottish recreation. The inference was that it was a brand new low that a membership of Aberdeen’s historical past misplaced their greatest goalscorer to a non-league membership down south.

Beforehand, there may need been uproar about it in Scotland. Some may need agreed with the sentiment. Others may need disagreed. The probabilities are the phrases would have been taken to coronary heart a technique or one other and the navel-gazing would have carried on awhile. ‘Whither Scottish soccer and all that…’

This time, no. Most people here understood what was happening. Fiscal commonsense got here to city some time again. That is one thing to be happy with.

Is that this the brand new ‘Broony’?

Within the Rooney case, McInnes couldn’t assure the Irishman a beginning place. Rooney was supplied common soccer elsewhere on a a lot greater wage. He went. Finish of story. The view from Scotland wasn’t ‘Is not this embarrassing’, it was extra ‘Is not it odd that a non-league membership can shell out upwards of £4,000 per week on a participant…’

We now have two worlds on one island. There’s the world of English soccer – predominantly Premier League soccer – and there is Scotland’s world.

On this planet of the Premier League, Everton signal Davy Klaassen for £23.6m and promote him 18 video games later for £12m. A world the place Southampton signal striker Guido Carrillo for £19m, play him 10 occasions, get no objectives, and mortgage him to Leganes. A world the place Stoke signal defender Kevin Wimmer for £18m in the summertime and farm him out to Hannover in January.

As a substitute of asking what the Rooney deal says about Scotland, you might ask what these offers – and lots of others – say about England, however every to their very own. Why do these golf equipment gamble, and too typically waste, tens of thousands and thousands on gamers? As a result of they will. As a result of their prize cash and tv cash – no matter success or failure – is other-worldly.

West Brom made £94.6m regardless of ending backside of the Premier League final season. The three relegated golf equipment made a mixed £292m. For ending seventh, Burnley made £120m, which is greater than double the quantity Aberdeen intend to spend on their new stadium.

After Aberdeen drew 1-1 with Burnley within the Europa League first-leg tie at Pittodrie final week, McInnes was requested if this despatched a message to England that the standard of soccer in Scotland is best than they may have assumed.

His reply was redolent of a altering perspective. He stated he did not care what individuals in England considered it. It was of zero curiosity. He wasn’t being impolite, he was simply telling it prefer it was. His workforce did not have to show themselves to anyone aside from their very own individuals.

In that second, you felt like applauding. Scottish soccer has its personal id, it is personal attraction. By turns, it is stunning and ugly, thrilling and tedious, inspiring and infuriating. It is all yours. And, God bless it, it is again.

There was an surprising participant on the pitch at Hampden…

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