#i’m just trying to get pay’s blacklist

[pumpoen]

super wayneio smoking weed the movie

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four

TW: sexual harassment, no means yes, asshole doctors/doctor slander (sorry if you’re an actual good doctor), mentions of alcoholism/sickness, burns

You should probably decide to do whatever the opposite of man up is-pussy down?-and specifically request to not have Officer Ludlow ever be on your patient roster again. He’s bad for your health and, despite being the one always putting him back together, you’re bad for his, too. 

You’re trying not to morally question yourself about why you didn’t do something after the first, second, or hell, even third time he borderline sexually harassed you…  You’re trying not to think too much about why you don’t do it now: open the manager’s door with your shaking, clammy hand and say “hey, creepy patient, please keep him away from me”. It would be so easy. This stuff happens a lot to the other staff in the ED, and always gets solved without a problem. 

You don’t do it, though. You walk away without blacklisting Tom Ludlow. And doesn’t that just say mountains about you. But, anyway, you have your own job to do fighting disease and trauma from the mean streets of the City of Angels, so you don’t really have time for all this petty drama bullshit. 

Whatever helps you sleep at night.

You’re not really sure how it’s possible, after eight years of higher education plus residency training, but doctors really can be idiots sometimes. 

“Discharge, really?” You whisper to yourself, clicking on the order to see if it’s just a mistake-nope, legit. 

You grab the clipboard from your patient’s bedside and go hunt down Dr. Mercer, who is currently standing at the desk flipping through paperwork. 

“Hey, Julian, can I have a quick second?”

He gives you one of his signature, charming white smiles that can calm almost any belligerent patient down. “Of course. Anything for my favorite nurse.” He motions for you to sit in the swivel chair, and takes the one opposite from you. 

Julian makes it a point to give you his full attention, and that never fails to fluster you, but you can shoulder through it most of the time. The man is too handsome for his own good, and you haven’t found a female in this hospital immune to his charm-even Shelby, the housekeeper who is strictly attracted to women… and one man: Dr. Mercer. 

“You put in a discharge order for room 13?” 

“Hmm, one sec.” He leans over to click through the computer, then turns back. “Yes, is there a problem?”

“Well, I thought we would be admitting him?” 

“No, that won’t be necessary. He’s free to go home.” 

“Julian.” You’ve known this man for a whole year and should not be this hesitant about questioning a single order from him, but you take a big pause nonetheless. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem; any other doctor you could confront with ease, but Julian is so, so nice and he always gets your Starbucks order right and never lets you pay him back for it. You don’t want to be a dick to such a sweet person. “I don’t think he’s ready to be discharged. He’s a heavy drinker and his potassium is still low. Plus, he lives alone.” 

“His potassium is only one point off, y/n. And the rest of his labs look good. I can’t keep someone for alcoholism.”

Well, the good thing is that you’re not hesitant anymore, just really pissed, because obviously Dr. Mercer’s kindness and understanding doesn’t extend to his less fortunate patients. 

“Wow, that’s not okay, Julian.”

His smile fades a little bit, or just turns mean, you can’t really tell which, and he sighs. “I’m sorry, I’m very busy. If this conversation is about morals, I’m afraid I don’t have time for it.” 

“It’s not about morals.” You try to lasso your anger, but it seeps into the tone of your voice like a hiss. “I’m concerned about patient safety, and his potassium is just going to drop further if we send him back to drink himself to death. And then he’ll have a heart attack.” 

“I treat current conditions. I can’t focus on what-ifs.” He tries to put his hand atop yours, but you pull back. 

All doctors are the same? What a shocker. You haven’t met even one who didn’t eventually do this shit, and Julian is no different despite your burgeoning hope that he was. 

“I’m not giving him that paperwork,” you say. “I’m not discharging him.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m not doing it.”

“We need to free up the bed for patients who need it.” 

“Do it yourself, then.” 

His smile falls the whole way down, and you can’t find it in your bleeding heart to care.

You need to get away from him before you say something that will make him want to get you your usual coffee order and then spit in it, but he grabs your forearm gently before you can. 

“Y/n-“

“I told you I’m not discharging him.” He lets you pull back. “And I really don’t have time for this.” 

***

You should just let it go, but by the time your break comes around, you are still quietly seething over Dr. Mercer’s idiotic order, and the way he fucking talked to you. 

You’ve come a long way, but sometimes when a man talks down to you with that certain tone, you still see red. 

Maybe it’s a character flaw, but after the hell you’ve lived through, you can’t help but feel entitled to some righteous feminine rage.

You’re alone in the little side nook with its hard plastic chairs that almost hurt you more than standing. But your feet need a break, so while you massage your foot your tailbone suffers.

You need a massage. A real, full-body rub-down–why is it, that the thought calls up the memory of a certain large, strong, calloused pair of hands that may or may not belong to a certain inappropriate officer of the law?

It’s possible you are staring into space, fantasizing about burning dark eyes unabashedly boring into yours as those mitts for hands–

A soft knock on the doorjamb pulls you back to the present–and the last person you want to see is taking up the whole doorway. It takes every iota of self-control you have left not to snarl, What do you want?

“Doctor?” You even put extra sugar into your tone, which he seems to sense is utterly manufactured judging by his awkward smile.

“Y/n.”

You wait silently, allowing the lift of one eyebrow that you fear conveys all your disdain. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

You blink, certain you misheard. 

“I’m sorry?”

“You were right. The patient was not ready for discharge.”

You blink again. Has hell warmed over? “I know,” you finally answer, which for some reason makes him smile. He takes the liberty to cross the room to sit down next to you, with only one plastic chair between you. 

“It took some courage to stand up to me. Well done.”

Dr. Julian Mercer is TV doctor hot–tall, broad shouldered, handsome. His thin scrubs do very little to conceal his lithe, athletic body underneath, and everyone in the hospital loves to titter about him as he breezes by. You’re not exactly immune to his charms, but failing to advocate for a patient for fear of displeasing him wouldn’t have even occurred to you.

“I just want what's best for my patients.” That, at least, is the truth. 

The good doctor nods, his longish hair swinging into his eyes. Maybe you do feel the slightest urge to brush it away. 

“Truly commendable, y/n.” Then he points at your foot, and makes a come hither gesture with his fingers.

You don't understand what he wants, and your face shows it. 

“Is your foot hurting you?”

Perpetually, is the answer, but you just nod dumbly.

“Give it here.”

“Why?”

His smile is gentle as spring rain. “I’m offering you an apology foot rub.”

“How wildly inappropriate,” you comment while extending your foot. You’ve eyed Dr. Julian’s hands before. They may be soft, but they are big, so maybe he could be of some use to you. 

He laughs at that; a short huff of laughter that possibly softens you a little towards him. And once your foot is in his hands–ok, that feels good, maybe better than good, and maybe Dr. Julian does know something about making the human body feel better. A small noise escapes you, and you are breaking so many hospital policies right now, but god dammit they work you to the bone here.

He’s even kind enough to do your other foot too, and by the time he’s done with you you’re leaning back in your chair on your hand with your eyes closed. You open one eye with a sigh as he gives the ball of your foot a finishing squeeze.

“Ok. I’m mostly not mad anymore.”

He gives a short guffaw at that. “You were mad?” Like he’s surprised you’ve taken any of this personally.

“Of course I was.”

“Oh.”

Strangely he doesn’t seem offended by this. “You really do care about your patients.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I'm not surprised. but…”

“But what?”

“It's hard on us as medical professionals, to take every case personally. We do our best, of course, but at the end of the day you have to keep some sliver of your heart back for yourself, or you won’t survive to help anyone tomorrow.”

You raise your eyebrows at that. It never would have even occurred to you not to give your heart and soul to anyone who needed it during your shift. 

“I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one.”

You can’t help but notice he still hasn't released your foot, toying with the curve of your big toe through your sock. 

“Perhaps we will.”

He is looking at you searchingly, and it’s all you can do not to flinch from that intuitive gaze.

“Thank you, Dr. Mercer.” 

He opens his mouth as though to say more, but one of your colleagues walks in, and that’s the end of your little moment.

***

Surprise, surprise, when the next night, Guess Who finds his way onto your examination table.

For fuck’s sake.

“Officer Ludlow. What brings you in tonight?”

You know you sound tired, look like hell, and smell like straight up human waste, but Tom looks extra happy to see you. “You work too much.”

You don’t have the energy to argue, much less with the truth. “Yeah, and you get injured too much.” Great, solid comeback, you really got him there. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

He whistles. “Bad mood. Damn.” 

“Just tell me what you’re fucking here for, Tom.” You plop down on the stool next to his bed, chin in your hand. 

He tugs his charred pant leg up, and beneath, so fresh it should be sizzling and smoking, is a nasty burn the size of your head. 

“How did you manage that?” You wince, leaning down to assess the damage. Luckily, it’s only second degree, shiny and bloody and wet and looking too painful to bear weight on. “How are you walking?” 

“Remember the sword?” 

“How could I forget?”

“Okay, well this time it was a flamethrower.”

“How are people getting their hands on this shit?” 

He shrugs, which makes you laugh for the first time all day. “Alright, I don’t think it’s third degree, but I need the doctor to-“

“Good evening Mr. Ludlow.” Julian has drawn back the curtain and stepped inside your little exam room with that branded, signature smile on his face.

“Hey, Julian-Doctor-can you take a look at this?”

While Julian looks at the burn, you sneak a peek at Tom, and see some type of look on his face-not confusion, not concern, more analyzing. Assessing. Thinking. 

“This your doctor boyfriend you were telling me about?”

You can almost hear the sizzle of heat making its way up your neck to your cheeks. This fucking bastard. Embarassing you at work, trying to catch you out in your lie. He levels that penetrating gaze with you, just the tiniest tick at the corner of his mouth betraying his amusement.

Yet he is not the only perceptive man in the room. Julian looks between the two of you, and you swear he reads the situation as clearly as a book. Without losing a beat, god bless, he goes into Full Authoritative Doctor Mode. “I am, not that my relationship with Miss y/n is any of your concern.”

Either of them could have pushed you over with a feather–you can hardly believe Julian is playing along.

“Sorry, doc. I’m a detective. Just curious by nature.” Ludlow levels Julian with a stony look, conveying that he didn’t believe the doctor–or he really didn’t like what he’d said.

“I’m sure you are,” answers Julian, throwing you a knowing look that only makes the fire under your collar ten times worse. “Can you go check on Mrs. Andersen in room 10, y/n? I can handle Officer Ludlow.”

Somehow, you kind of doubt that, and you find you’re reluctant to leave them alone in the room together. But, you’ve already been insubordinate once this week. They’re grown men. What’s the worst that could happen? 

Yet as you’re making your exit, you can’t help but feel like you’ve just left Dr. Mercer at the mercy of a wolf. 

You are glad you went to check on Mrs. Andersen, because she needed some warm assurance, on top of a slight adjustment of her IV. When you walk back out into the hall, headed for the nurses station, it’s almost as though the atmosphere has changed. No one else seems to sense it, but somehow you just know something is off. With dread in your heart you scurry back to where you’d left Ludlow and Mercer, bursting through the curtains.

They are standing toe to toe, nose to nose. It’s made a little more ridiculous by the bulky dressing on Tom’s calf, but you still don’t doubt his ability to wipe the floor with Dr. Julian. Which is a ridiculous fucking thing for you to have to worry about, but here you are.

You don’t raise your voice, not wanting to draw attention, but you do not hesitate to put yourself between them. You try not to notice how solid Tom’s chest is beneath your hand, compared to Julian’s. “That is enough.” You direct this at Tom, of course, because you have zero doubt as to who started it.

“Why are you yelling at me?” Tom complains childishly.

“Because I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not stupid. But this asshole seems to think he owns you.”

You do lift an eyebrow at that, but it’s so not the issue at hand. “Do you want to be escorted out by security?”

“I think I’m done here anyway.” Ludlow picks up his jacket, glaring at Julian. “Thanks for the dressing, Doc.” His tone, however, more conveys Eat shit and die. Then he looks at you, and those burning dark eyes send an uneasy thrill to your toes–by way of your treacherous pussy, who does not seem to understand that men like Tom Ludlow are very bad for you. She has gotten you into so much trouble before, and by god you are not letting her run the show this time.

“Be seeing you, sweetheart.”

“Not on these hospital grounds, you’re not,” asserts Dr. Julian, and Tom, damn him, just laughs.

There is just something about that man’s presence that leaves behind traces of him in a room, long after he has gone. You just stand there, maybe rather stupidly, struggling to process what just happened. What is it about you, that attracts these cocky assholes that just can’t take no for an answer?

“Are you alright?” asks Julian, and you actually believe that he cares about you, concern written in his achingly handsome features, his kind hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, sure. Sorry about him.”

He gives you a gently amused look. “You are not responsible for that man’s bad behavior.

And you won’t be treating him anymore.” 

You would argue, assert yourself, do that thing where you’re strong and independent and take care of the own sore skin on your back, but you really don’t have the energy right now, and Julian-fuck him-he’s right, you should not be Ludlow’s nurse anymore for his sake and yours. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes, wishing it was the end of your shift. “Alright.” 

At least the rest of the night goes by fairly quickly, although that means you’re busy enough not to have another break, however, Julian-apologetic Julian, who brings you a turkey sandwich and makes you sit down and eat it and drink at least half a bottle of water-is making things a little better. 

The doctors don’t really get into the shit like you and your fellow nurses, although they are just as busy, and the fact that he takes time to be concerned about you after the emotional beginning of your shift really touches you. He knows he fucked up the other day, and he’s in full sweet cinnamon roll mode to try and rectify it. That’s why you can’t-and, if you’re being honest-don’t want to tell him no when he catches you in the parking lot before you get into your car. 

“Here, you left your stethoscope.” He loops it around your neck, then opens your driver’s door for you. 

“Julian, it really is okay.” You reach up to pat his lab coat shoulder in reassurance. “And I’m fine. Tom is just a big bully.” Why do you feel like you’re betraying him by talking shit to Julian in the parking lot? 

He looks down at you like he’s made up his mind about something, and grins. “Have coffee with me?”

You blink at him. “Like, right now?” 

“No, Saturday morning. Seven AM?” He grabs the spiral notebook and pen from his breast pocket and writes you his number. “Since I’m your boyfriend, I should take you out on a date, don’t you think?” 

Well, at least he’s asking nicely instead of being an asshole about it like some people… 

You chuckle, tuck the note and your hands into your scrub pockets, and hope the heat isn’t visible on your face. “Guess you’re right.” 

You might be playing a dangerous game, here, but hell, there’s a reason you work in the ED of a level one trauma center; you’re a sucker for cheap thrills

[kwanisms]

Kinkuary 14 Jun — body worship // bath/shower sex

➥ idol boyfriend!Jun × noj idol!Reader summary: After a particularly stressful day at work, Y/N comes home to find her boyfriend has drawn her a relaxing bath and is pleasantly surprised when he reveals he intends to join her in the bath. wc: 3.8k warnings: afab reader, adult dialogue, alcohol consumption (a glass of wine or two), established relationship, sexual content (minors dni!): Junhui just wants to pamper the reader knowing she's had a hard time, massaging, fingering, biting, hair pulling, bath sex, unprotected sex (use protection pls!), body worship, praise, use of pet names (bao bei, angel, beautiful, etc), the reader calls Jun lǎo gōng (husband) and it makes him all 🥴🥰, let me know if I missed anything!! Permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped @dejavernon @dilfjohnny Kinkuary full taglist: @baldi-2 @wonderfulshinee @lacie220900 @sup-dallyboy @drunk-on-dk @violagoth @mixling-blog Seventeen taglist: @aikisbbq @95cheols @niktwazny303 @indigo35 @moonlightsora @witherednotes @cixrosie @kirooz Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED AND BLACKLISTED. Join the taglist!

a/n: Junhui doesn't seem to have a lot of content on here but here's some! I haven't written for him in a while so hopefully I do him justice! I hope you like this. Thank you for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

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‘Seriously? Fuck Valentine’s Day,’ you thought as your office door closed.

This was the worst day you’d experienced of the year and it was only the second month.

You sighed and leaned forward, resting your head on your arms on top of your desk. ‘I can’t take much more of this,’ you told yourself. A knock at your door brought you out of your stupor, sitting up and calling out for the person to come in.

“You look stressed,” your supervisor said as she walked in. You forced a smile. “Stressed is putting it lightly,” you replied before taking a deep breath. “How can I be of assistance?” You asked. Your supervisor shook her head.

“I’m sure this isn’t the best time, but we’re over in hours,” she replied. “Normally I wouldn’t dream of asking you this, but seeing as you seemed rather stressed, would you like to leave early?” You couldn’t believe your ears. ‘Leave early?’

“Uh,” you replied. “Are you sure?”

Your supervisor nodded. “I’ll make sure the difference shows up on your next paycheck so you don’t lose pay,” she added. “I just need to send people home.”

You didn’t need telling twice. Shutting down your computer and turning off your desk lamp, you opened your desk drawer and grabbed your purse, slipping your phone into it and getting to your feet.

“Try to enjoy the rest of your day,” she said as she gave you a smile and left your office.

The drive home was frustrating, people swerving in and out of traffic, cutting you and other drivers off, forcing you to stomp on the break more than once.

‘Could this day get any worse?’

As if cued by your damning thoughts, the sky opened up, a downpour covering the city as you drove the rest of the way home to your apartment, pulling into the covered garage and into your parking space.

You noticed that Jun’s car was in the second numbered space for your apartment and wondered when he got home. It wasn’t like him to be home this early.

The ride up to your floor was uneventful as a storm started to rage outside, pelting the windows and walls with hard rain, wind whipping around the high rise you called home as you approached your door.

Soft music could be heard inside your apartment you shared with your boyfriend and you wondered what he was up to.

Unlocking the door, you let yourself in where a delicious smell wafted towards you as you stepped into the living area and shut the door behind you. You set your purse aside, slipping off your shoes and jacket and sliding into your house slippers.

You rounded the corner where your boyfriend was working behind the counter, wearing your pink gingham print apron with a heart top and ruffles. You took in the sight as he bustled about, checking various cookware on the stove.

He finally turned and a wide smile spread across his face. “You’re home!” He said with a cheerful tone, crossing the distance to press a kiss to your cheek.

“What is all this?” You asked, looking behind him at the stove. “It’s not ready yet,” he said, turning you towards the hall that led to the bedroom. “I’m sure you want to get changed so go do that, bao bei. Let me handle this.”

He gave you a gentle push and turned to head back to the kitchen before whipping back around quickly. “Just stay out of the bathroom!”

You gave him a peculiar look before conceding and heading to the bedroom to change out of your work clothes, pulling on a sweatshirt and shorts before returning to the kitchen to watch your boyfriend cook.

“I didn’t expect you so soon,” he admitted as he worked, glancing over his shoulder as you sat at the kitchen island. “My supervisor said we were over in hours so I got to leave early,” you answered.

“Which reminds me,” you said as you got up and headed over to your purse.

You pulled out a small gift box and snuck back to the kitchen where your boyfriend was facing away. “I got something for you,” you called out to him. He turned to look at you and set down the spoon in his hand, walking over to where you stood.

You whipped out the box and held it up. “Ta-dah!” You said excitedly. “I’m sorry I didn’t have time to make them myself but work has been so busy and stressful lately and I—” Jun, who had taken the box from you, looking at it silently quickly pressed a kiss to your lips, cutting you off.

“I don’t care if you made them or bought them,” he said softly. “Thank you, beautiful.” Your cheeks flushed as he kissed your forehead and set the box on the island and moved back to the stove.

“I’ll get this done and then we can eat,” he said over his shoulder as you returned to your seat. “Do you want some wine?”

Dinner was finished soon after and you sat down at the small table with Jun, trying not to blush furiously as he set the table quickly with a vase full of roses. “Juuuun,” you whined as he finished lighting two candles. “You didn’t have to do this!”

He gave you a cheeky smile as he sat down. “Actually, I did,” he answered.

Your eyes narrowed. “Why? Did you do something?” You asked, suddenly suspicious as he took a sip of his wine. “No!” He said indignantly. “Then what’s going on in the bathroom?” You asked as he started to eat. “Nothing! Well, not nothing. You’ll see. Eat your dinner,” he said pointing at you with his chopsticks.

You decided to drop the subject in favor of eating because you actually were starving, having skipped lunch due to the volume of work you had and the lack of time between meetings.

While you ate, Jun asked you about your day, listening to your struggles and stresses of office based work. You asked him about his day and he admitted he had a very short day in comparison at the PLEDIS building. They didn’t have any schedules so most of their time was spent just messing around the practice rooms.

“Cheol said he didn’t need us to stay longer than necessary and since I’m one of the few members with a significant other, he let me go early.”

You were grateful Seungcheol was so understanding of his members’ lives outside of Seventeen and that he knew how important time with your boyfriend was not just to you but to Jun as well.

“Are you finished?” Jun asked, drawing your attention out of your thoughts. You nodded, thanking him as he got up and took your empty plate. “Thank you, babe, it was delicious.” You saw how the tips of his ears turned red when you complimented him, just another one of those Jun things you loved so much.

You got to your feet, following him to the kitchen as he set your plates in the dishwasher and started cleaning up. “Let me help,” you said, moving to grab the storage containers you kept in the far cabinet.

The two of you silently packed up the leftovers and while you put them in the fridge, Jun put the used cookware in the dishwasher. You were closing the door when you felt Jun’s arms wrap around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Thank you for helping me clean up,” he said softly.

You turned in his grip, moving your arms to rest on his shoulders. “Thank you for all this, lǎo gōng,” you murmured, leaning in to press your lips to his. You knew he couldn’t control himself when you called him that but for some reason, he simply blushed and kissed you back softly.

“I have something else for you,” he muttered in between kisses. “What’s that?” You wondered, smiling against his lips.

“Let me show you,” he whispered, lips moving across your cheek to your ear. “I think you’re gonna like it.”

Chills went up your spine as his breath tickled your skin but suddenly there was a loud crack of thunder and the room was plunged into darkness. You cried out in shock, feeling Jun’s grip on you tighten.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he said softly, moving in the dark. You heard the sound of the drawer open and suddenly a beam of light appeared. “This is why we have flashlights,” he said with a smirk.

Keeping his hand on your lower back, he guided you through the dark apartment to your bedroom where he took your hand and placed it on his waist. You grabbed the material of his shirt as he walked carefully over to the door leading to your bathroom and opened it.

Inside was like some sort of scene from a romantic movie.

There were candles on the bathroom counter, a couple on the back edge of the bathtub and rose petals spread across the floor and floating in the water.

“I might need to get more candles,” Jun murmured as he looked around the room. “I’ll be right back,” he added, disappearing from the room as you stepped further in, taking in the sight.

You had no idea Jun was such a hard romantic as he’d never done anything even remotely like this. Normally your Valentine’s were spent at a fancy restaurant and maybe he’d book a hotel for the night or you’d come back home but this?

This was beyond anything he’d done for you before.

Your boyfriend returned moments later with more candles and you helped set them up and watched as he lit them, filling the room with more warm flickering light.

“I know work has been stressful for you the last couple weeks,” he started, moving to take your waist in his hands. “And I wanted to do something nice for you. So I asked some of the others what their partners like and they all mentioned a nice relaxing bath.”

You wound your arms around his neck and pulled him close, kissing him. “Thank you lǎo gōng,” you replied with a smile. “That’s not all,” he admitted. “Joshua said something about a massage.”

You watched as he slipped from your grip and walked over to the counter, pulling open a drawer and pulling out a bottle of massage oil. Your cheeks burned in the dim glow of the candle light. “A massage?”

Jun nodded. “I can imagine you’re probably very tense, so I thought I could help you relax. A shy smile formed on your face at his admission. “You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“Of course,” he answered. “Now, hurry up and get in the bath,” he added.

You hesitated but you weren’t sure why. Jun had seen you naked plenty of times and you’d even showered together a multitude of times so why were you suddenly nervous?

Jun turned to face you, a sly smile appearing. “Are you being shy right now?” He asked, crossing to stand in front of you. “No,” you lied, shaking your head.

“If you needed my help, you could have just asked,” he said, one hand moving to your back and pulling you flush against him while the other moved up to the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek gently.

“Do you want me to help?” He asked softly. You weren’t sure what had gotten into you but you nodded in response, cheeks burning as he chuckled, both hands moving to the hem of your sweatshirt.

“Lift your arms for me,” he instructed, saying nothing more as you did and pulling your sweatshirt off, leaving your chest exposed to him. “God,” he breathed, eyes roaming over your body. “You are so gorgeous.”

Your cheeks burned under his gaze and his praise. It was no secret that Jun loved your body. Every inch of it and he made a point almost daily to remind you how much he loved you and how beautiful you were to him.

Noticing your flushed cheeks, he chose not to comment on them, instead continuing to undress you. “Do you want me to keep going?” Jun asked, his hands toying with the waistband of your shorts.

“Or do you want to do it yourself?”

You shook your head, not wanting to lose the feeling of his hands on your body even if they were about to be all over you in a moment. “Then turn around for me,” he whispered, waiting for you to do so.

Once your back was to him, you felt his fingers slip under the elastic of your shorts, pulling them down along with your panties until they fell to your feet. “I’ll take care of these,” he said, grabbing your discarded clothes. “You get in the tub.”

Jun disappeared into the bedroom while you walked over to the tub.

One thing that drew you to this apartment when you and Jun first started looking was the bathroom, particularly this bathtub. It was a large, deep tub with jets but the best feature and probably what sold you on the apartment in the end, was the temperature control and timer.

The tub allowed you to set a time, fill level, and had a temperature control function to keep the water hot for hours. Jun clearly had filled the tub much earlier and kept the temperature control on while he cooked and the two of you ate because as you stepped into the water, the heat was as if he’d just run it.

You lowered yourself down, leaning against the white tub pillow and sighed in relief as the hot water instantly started to soothe and relax you.

Jun returned a moment later and moved to sit on the edge of the tub, dipping a hand into the water briefly. “That temperature control feature is really something,” he said with a chuckle as he stood up and crossed to the counter, grabbing the oil and returning to sit on the side of the tub.

“Can you sit up for me?” He asked, popping open the top and pouring a small amount onto his palm. You sat up as he set the bottle aside and warmed up the oil in his hands before his hands moved to your shoulders, starting to knead and work out the knots in your muscles.

You hadn’t realized how tense you’d been but as Jun slowly worked on your shoulders and neck, it became apparent you’d gone too long without a massage.

“You are unbelievably tense,” he noted as his hands started to work down your shoulder blades, kneading your back muscles with his knuckles and smoothing them with the palms of his hands.

The pain had subsided at this point and now you were left with just a pleasurable feeling of his hands on your body. When he was done working on what he could reach on your back, his hands moved back up to your shoulder. One hand massaged along your shoulder and neck while the other moved down your arm.

You gasped when his hand zipped down your body, darting between your thighs while the other continued to massage your neck. “Jun!” You admonished but your words fell short when you felt his fingers against your sex, finding your clit and starting to draw slow circles.

“Shh,” he whispered. “I’m not done with your massage,” he added as his fingers moved quicker, the hand on your shoulder stopping as he focused his attention between your thighs.

You let out a soft moan as his fingers dipped lower, finding your slit and slipped inside, forcing a louder moan past your lips. “Jun—” you tried to speak but his hand dipped lower, pushing more of his fingers inside you, curling them and making your back arch. “Just let me take care of you,” he murmured.

“You always do so much for me, it’s my turn to do something for you.”

You let out a whimper as his fingers continued to move, dragging against your walls as he pumped them slowly, the water hindering his movements slightly.

“Your shirt is getting wet,” you commented, noticing how the bath water started to soak his sleeve while his hand was dipped far below the surface. “I don’t really care,” he chuckled, his thumb dragging over your clit as his fingers continued to move.

“You could always join me,” you gasped, biting your bottom lip to hold back a moan. “If I do,” Jun started slowly. “Will you stop holding back those beautiful sounds you make?” You nodded in response, anything to get him in the tub with you.

Jun pulled his hand free and stripped himself to his shirt, tossing it to the floor before pushing his pants and underwear down together and discarding them on the floor.

He stepped into the hot water, lowering himself between your spread thighs and leaned in, pressing his lips to yours as one hand steadied himself on the edge of the bathtub, the other disappearing under the water and between your thighs again.

You moaned against his lips as he resumed his motions from before, thumb working against your clit as his fingers disappeared inside your warm cunt. “Is it bad that I kind of want to fuck you in the bath?” He asked, pulling back just enough to watch your brow furrow from the pleasure he was giving you.

“Please,” you whispered. “I want you so bad, Jun,” you moaned as his fingers curled against your walls, pushing you closer to the edge.

“How can I deny you when you say it like that?” He asked, pulling his fingers from your pussy. “Do you want to ride me? Or do you want me to take you from behind?” He asked softly. Without a word, you moved, the water around you sloshing in the tub as you straddled his lap, your sex brushing against his hard cock.

“So eager,” he mused as you wasted no time in lining the head of his cock with your entrance and sank down on him, hands resting on his shoulders. One of his hands moved to your back, the other to the back of your head as your forehead fell against his shoulder.

“That’s it,” he groaned as your walls clenched around him. “Take your time, baby.”

You felt his hands moved, sliding down to your hips, squeezing before moving to your ass and gripping it tightly. “God I love this ass,” he rasped out, making your cheeks burn for what felt like the hundredth time.

“I could play with it for hours,” he added, kneading and massaging the flesh. “So soft,” he whispered. “Jun, stop, you’re making me hot,” you whined when he chuckled. “That’s the idea, bao bei,” he murmured.

You ignored his comments and instead focused on the feeling of his cock buried inside you but even then he couldn’t let you have that.

Though your body needed time to adjust to the intrusion, your brain said no and you started rolling your hips, your clit grinding against him as his cock barely moved against your walls.

“You feel so good around me,” he whispered, his hands moving up your back, water dripping from his skin and hitting the surface with soft plops. “It’s like you were made for me.” Your face flushed as your heart swelled with his words.

“You’re being awfully affectionate,” you noted. Jun merely smiled, kissing along your jaw. “What can I say?” He asked quietly. “I love my beautiful girlfriend and I love reminding her of how beautiful she is.”

“Fuck, I won’t last if you keep doing that,” Jun gasped as you squeezed your cunt around his length, lifting your hips at the same time. “You’re gonna kill me, Y/N.”

The water moved around both of your bodies as you set a slow but steady rhythm, your movement hindered by the water. “Keep going,” Jun encouraged, fingers tangling in your hair as you rode him. He tugged gently, tilting your head back so he could kiss and nip softly at your skin. “Don’t hold back those pretty sounds.”

You let out a moan as you felt his teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder. He was very much into biting and marking you when you had sex. You always came out of it covered in love bites and hickeys while you couldn’t do the same to him.

At least, not in places that would be seen. His neck, chest, and shoulders were off limits but his thighs and hips were fair game and you’d left your share of marks on him in those places.

“Jun,” you whined. “‘M so tired,” you groaned, your thighs starting to burn. Sex was a workout on its own, but trying to do what you usually did in bed in a tub full of water made it much more cumbersome.

“I know, angel,” he murmured. “Let me.”

You whimpered as he guided you off him and turned you to face the edge of the tub. Without another word, he slipped back inside you from behind and took over, pushing your chest against the edge of the tub as he thrust into you.

It was an unconventional position but he made it work, ignoring the water that spilled over the edge of the tub onto the tiled floor. He’d clean it up later. Right now your orgasm was more important to him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You cried out as your climax washed over you, Jun following quickly as he released into you, his sticky seed painting your walls white as you rode out your highs together.

He stilled inside you, hips pressed flush against your ass as his teeth grazed your skin, leaving as many love bites and hickeys on your skin as he could.

“There’s so much water on the floor,” you complained. Jun mumbled in response, kissing the bite marks he’d left behind as he came down from his climax. “S’okay. I’ll clean it up later.”

“Later?” You asked as he pulled out of you. “It’s still Valentine’s Day,” he said simply as he got up, pulled the plug on the tub and stepped carefully out of the tub onto the floor.

He offered his hand which you took and allowed him to help you out of the tub.

Once you were on common ground, his hands were on your waist, lips descending on yours in a rushed and desperate kiss, his tongue finding yours and one hand moving to cup the back of your neck, deepening the kiss before finally pulling away to breathe. He gave you a devilish grin.

“And I’m not done with you yet.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Silver Lining 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"So your sister will be coming by next week with the little ones," your mother declares as you stand at the sink, scrubbing away the remnants of roast beef and potato. "You'll get to play auntie for the day."

"Mhmm," you nod, "what about Justin?"

"Oh, your brother's down visiting with his fiance's family. He said he'd try to make if for Christmas Eve but you know how her family is."

You sniff and pretend to know. You really don't. It's all hearsay to you. You don't hear much from either siblings; they have lives, you just happen to be related.

"S-sounds great," you utter as you put another plate in the rack.

"Oh, honey, you should just use the dishwasher," she says.

"It's f-f-fine, this works," you insist.

"Well, what about you? What are you up to?" She leans on the counter.

"I..." you don't know what to say. You need a lie, anything to appease her. Your brother's engaged, your sister has the white picket fence and you have nothing, "oh, I h-have a job interview."

"You do?" She sounds thoroughly disbelieving.

"Uh, yeah, w-well," you stammer through, trying not to give away your deceit, "since n-no one wants to h-hire me in my f-field, I f-found something new."

"That's exciting," she chimes, "what is it?"

"Uh, I w-want to see i-if it turns out b-before I say," you give a tight-lipped smile, "don't want to d-disappoint you again."

"Sweetie, you're not a disappointment," she hums, "I'm always happy to see you trying."

You look down at the sink and shrug. Behind that comment is the inference that you weren't trying before. That you haven't been. The long nights with vivid nightmares don't exactly motivate you and you've been all but blacklisted as an executive assistant. Even admin roles aren't responding. Even if you do get a bite, the job market is drawn out and tedious.

"Thanks, mom."

"Just... try not to mope around the kids," she chides, "it's Christmas."

You flutter your lashes, "sure, mom."

That's what you are to everyone; weak, pathetic, useless. No, don't do that. You'll make another appointment with Lisa, she always knows what to do.

☕️

Well, this is it. A last resort. One of those freelancing websites that pays pennies. It's better than nothing and will keep you from having too big a gap on your resume. You could easily do the writing gigs, easy money for transcription. You apply to a few of those and scroll on.

You sit up as you see a particular posting that interest you. Oddly enough, the pay isn't half bad. It's also labeled as 'may lead to ongoing work'. Well, well, well, now that's something.

You click into the posting for 'Podcast Script Writer' and review the details. A sample is required for application and lucky enough, you have lots of those hanging around. If it wasn't for your stammer, you'd have an episode done by now. You deleted enough recordings to the point of giving up. Well, this is a solution. You can get your work out there without having to embarrass yourself.

You go through the application, putting in your info and editing a draft before attaching it to the application. You just hope it's thorough enough. You never really let anyone else see and hitting submit makes your stomach flip. With the final click, you close your laptop and quickly get up. Alright, you're not going to dwell on it. If you hear anything, you'll worry then.

You try to read but can't focus. It just makes you think of the posting and your application. Oh jeez, imagine you're rejected but worse, they tell you you've done everything wrong.

Appointment! You can't forget that. You login to the app and put in a request for a Zoom appointment that week. Alright, you're getting things done, you can't say you've done nothing.

You put a video on your phone and lean it on the pop out grip, propping it up on your mattress to watch the compilation of sitcom moments cut together on Youtube. Your mind wanders and your eyes begin to sag as the day shrouds you in fatigue. You slip into a shallow doze as the glare of the screen flickers over you.

The distant clack of keyboards and clicking of mouses needles behind your ears. It's as if you're trapped in a bubble of silence, all colours and noised dampened by the unseen wall. You shudder as you hear his voice, the only thing that's clear. Your name crawls up behind the shell of your ear with his breath as his hands settle on your hips. Your body aches as every muscles tightens and your bones lock in place. Please, no, not again...

"Sir..." you try to speak but nothing comes out. He's always tugging your skirt up, his hand is around your throat. You close your eyes as tears stain your cheeks.

You wake with a start, your phone black as the battery's drained from neglect. You sit up and pant, looking around your dark bedroom, the moonlight limning shadows sinisterly. You gulp and fall back, watching the ceiling as the tears rise in reality and sting your eyes.

If you'd just said no. A simple word. Even you can manage that.

You lay for a while until your restlessness boils over. You get up and plug in your phone. The screen lights up as you rub your eye socket and yawn. There's an email notification in the taskbar. Probably more ads for things you can't afford.

You pull down the menu but find ‘Application Update’ emblazoned across the notification. Oh wow, that was fast. You keep yourself from tapping on the email.

You don't know if you can handle another rejection. You'd rather languish in the uncertainty. You've been doing so for so long, it almost feels safe.

[rose-tinted-vision]

Fic: the ice hockey team's unspoken rules, an agreement they unanimously came to

Fandom: Floating Youth (冰球少年)

Relationship: Chen Che/Shen Zhouzhou (implied), one-sided Everyone/Chen Che

[read on ao3] | ongoing english subs | spoiler free

1. Qiao Mu

Qiao Mu watches as yet another one of their new recruits stares starry-eyed at Shen Zhouzhou and Chen Che duking it out on the ice, and takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the Talk that they would have to give once again.

“It’s your turn,” he elbows Wang Jin, gesturing to the poor sod tiredly.

“I mean— do we have to?” Wang Jin asks, grimacing. “It would be funnier to watch it all play out, no?”

“So you would let your underclassman get his heart broken just for your entertainment, got it.” Qiao Mu says drily.

“He seems like a tough cookie,” Wang Jin shrugs.

Qiao Mu sighs, muttering a silent apology to his underclassman as he feels his resolve crumbling. Perhaps it would be okay, just this once.

—

They settle in to watch the drama unfold after training was over.

“Captain!” Yin Kai bounds up to Chen Che, faltering slightly when he spots Shen Zhouzhou’s arm slung casually around Chen Che’s shoulder. But to his credit, he quickly gathers himself to ask, “do you want to get lunch after this? There’s a few tactics that I didn’t understand…”

“Sure— Zhouzhou, you can—“ Chen Che agrees easily, unaware of Shen Zhouzhou’s steadily darkening expression, the oblivious bastard that he was.

“Sorry, this guy needs to revise for his English exam, otherwise he won’t be our Captain any longer,” Shen Zhouzhou cuts in, his tone brooking no argument as he shoots Yin Kai a cold smile. “I’m sure Qiao Mu can help you out with those tactics, though.”

Qiao Mu shrugs in agreement, not actually expecting Yin Kai to seek him out— asking for help with a topic was the oldest trick in the book, after all. But to his surprise, Yin Kai does seek him out to clarify certain competitive ice hockey rules, studying them attentively, and Qiao Mu almost suspects that he’d been wrong about him after all, until—

“Senior brother, what does the captain like to eat? I was thinking of making him breakfast, since he comes so early to wake us all up!” Yin Kai asks brightly, and Qiao Mu realises— that's just the way that he was— approaching everything with the same intense concentration and enthusiasm, and he takes pity on the poor guy.

“Don’t bother, Shen Zhouzhou has him covered on that front.” He says tiredly, wincing as he watches Yin Kai’s excited expression fall.

He had made the mistake of trying, once, and Shen Zhouzhou had him blacklisted for half a month after that incident, throwing him overboard into the cruel arms of their capitalistic society.

Qiao Mu hadn’t realised just how expensive their school meals were, until then.

[Rule no.1 of Union College’s Ice hockey team: do not attempt to flirt with Chen Che. Shen Zhouzhou will not pay for your meals or any other expenses otherwise.]

˚₊ ❄︎࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

2. Li Shengxian

It is only after the match— a failure of a match, in his books— Union College had been all too easy to beat with No.77 gone missing and No.3 a distracted jumble of limbs afterwards, that Li Shengxian watches the recordings of Chen Che’s previous matches.

Was it possible for someone’s skills to differ so drastically from one match to another? Admittedly, he had experienced it first hand, how their tactics had taken Chen Che by surprise, how he failed to improvise on the spot to keep up, but for his mental state to affect his skills to that degree— that was where the skill difference between him and his partner lay, in his opinion.

Shen Zhouzhou had all the makings of a professional player, being able to keep a cool head under pressure and strategise on the fly, and to top it off, he had the physical skills to back up his counter-strategies, whereas Chen Che was easily distracted, easily bothered by other factors.

But it is through the recordings that Li Shengxian realises why.

He had asked his coach once, why it was Chen Che who was made captain and not Shen Zhouzhou, whose skills were more outstanding in his eyes.

Now he sees it— the way Chen Che effortlessly pulls his team together, how he shone on the rink in his own way, his confidence in his own skills unparalleled and a beacon that naturally drew one’s attention to him.

He also sees the unconditional trust that Shen Zhouzhou places in him, how he tended to match his pace to Chen Che’s, playing with him one moment and playing off him the next. And he sees the exact moment when Chen Che falls after his hit, how Shen Zhouzhou immediately abandons the game to check on him, his worry palpable even through the screen.

Would he be able to abandon a game like that, just for someone else?

He wouldn’t be able to, Li Shengxian finds. Ice hockey took precedence above anything else in his world.

—

Li Shengxian finds himself standing before Union College’s ice rink even before he knows it.

Whatever for, he does not know. Out of curiousity, perhaps? Or a desire to watch Chen Che play ice hockey again— that sounded more like it— he wasn’t one to lie to himself.

“Shengxian?”

“Jian Yi,” he returns, suddenly feeling out of place standing before Union College’s ice rink.

“What are you doing here?”

“I…” he does not know either. “Where’s Chen Che?”

He does not expect for Jian Yi’s expression to cloud over, darkening in an instant at the mere mention of Chen Che’s name, spitting, “don’t mention that name in front of me.”

(And he knows just what makes Jian Yi tick— Chen Che’s unexplained disappearance during the match— but she would forgive him just as easily, if he had a justifiable reason. Jian Yi may hold grudges, but she was more bark than bite).

“He didn’t return?”

“That bastard told the coach that he is quitting ice hockey.”

“Impossible,” he hears himself saying. Chen Che’s love for the sport was obvious, his passion for it unmatched. He would never voluntarily quit ice hockey— for players like them, it would be torture to distance themselves from the sport— a life that was meaningless if they weren’t playing ice hockey.

“Impossible. Where is he now?”

Jian Yi’s expresison twists, hedging, “no one knows. He cut off all contact.”

“For someone like him, he wouldn’t just quit ice hockey for no reason.”

“You—” Jian Yi says, eyes wide. “Not you too!”

[Rule no.2 of Union College’s Ice hockey team: If said pursuer is not from Union College, anyone who successfully dissuades them from chasing Chen Che will be reimbursed handsomely.]

˚₊ ❄︎࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

3. Leng Jing

“Don’t even think about it,” Shen Bingbing quips.

Leng Jing jumps, having been too absorbed in watching Chen Che practice to have noticed the witch sneaking up on him. “Think about what? What are you on about now, you crazy woman.”

“I recognise that look on your face— you’re not the only one who has crushed on Chen Che before,” Shen Bingbing says, straightforward as ever. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Crushing on Chen Che? What nonsense are you spouting now?” Leng Jing blusters, genuinely baffled by how she had come to that conclusion. All he had was genuine admiration for Chen Che’s skating form, and that the extent of it, nothing more at all!

But something she said had piqued his interest, “why not, though?”

Shen Bingbing leans in closer, smiling like a cat that had got the canary, “you admitted to it yourself, it has nothing to do with me~”

And just like that, she leaves just as quickly as she had come, leaving Leng Jing with more questions than before.

—

He asks Qiao Mu about it.

Being one of the original members of the team, surely he spoke Shen Bingbing’s nonsense language, Leng Jing figures, and his captain does not disappoint. His eyes had gone alarmingly flat at his question, however, all signs of life having been drained from him, leaving behind only an empty shell of his former captain.

“That,” Qiao Mu says, his face twisting as if he had just sucked on a lemon. “I completely forgot about that.”

“I suppose we’ll have to start warning everyone again, now that they’re back.” Jian Yi sighs. That catches Leng Jing’s attention— the fact that even their aloof, fierce team leader was in on this too, this had to be a hot topic that he had stumbled across. However—

“Wait, what does it even mean?” Leng Jing asks impatiently. The two of them had withdrawn into their own little bubble, communicating in gestures that only they understood as the rest of them watched with bated breath.

How one team managed to have so much drama, he didn’t know. But at least it was more exciting than whatever the broadcasting team had going on.

“It’s exactly what Shen Bingbing said,” Jian Yi says, apparently having lost whatever debate she had against Qiao Mu. “Don’t even think about going after Chen Che.”

“Or Shen Zhouzhou, for that matter,” she adds, almost as an afterthought.

Leng jing raises a brow in question, intrigued by the unspoken rules the old hockey team seemed to have. He’d seen countless classmates attempt to confess to Shen Zhouzhou upon his return, only to be politely rebuffed by the guy— what a waste, he had thought then— but now, he realises, he has to review his opinions.

(Perhaps it wasn’t such a waste after all, if Shen Zhouzhou had already set his eyes on someone).

“But why?” Lele presses, confusion written all over his face.

“Aiya, isn’t it obvious?” Wei Guo says, exasperated. “Shen Zhouzhou has staked his claim. Do you still want your free chicken cutlets or not?”

[Rule no.3 of Union College’s (new) Ice hockey team: Shen Zhouzhou and Chen Che are strictly off limits. Do not poke the sleeping tiger.]

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Written by sakafamily:

Whoa, I didn’t notice you also accept prompt submissions! Or I’m just that dense. Anyway, here are some IT company customer service prompts. I draw them based on real-life experience (well I am an IT company CS afterall).

IT Company Customer Service Prompts

Your customer’s web hosting service was suspended because they are caught phishing the national bank. That customer contacts your CEO and attempts to sue you personally for not lifting the suspension, bringing a lawyer even for the purpose. You try your best not to laugh realizing that the lawyer they hired is actually a cop in disguise.

You get a phone call from an angry customer saying that the product they purchased was delivered to the wrong address. After investigating, it turns out the customer made a mistake by writing capital letter I as non-capital letter L and the package was sent to their significant other. Cue hilarity ensues after discovering how embarrassing the package contents is.

You and your coworker are trying to figure out why your customer cannot install SSL on their Linux Virtual Private Server. The customer is furious for the time you two take to solve their issue. It turns out every attempt to install it failed because they haven’t setup a web server on their VPS.

“Hello there, my name is (NAME). How can I help?” “Yeah, I’m so horny about you babe.” “Dear you’re drunk again and its the 288th time this year.” “I know. That’s why I’m being honest about my feelings for you.”

“Why are my phone services suspended?” “Dear, you have outstanding phone bill for (insert hilarious number here) that have been pending payment for 6 months.” “This is ridiculous. I want my services but I don’t want to pay.”

“Why are you making things so complicated?” “I understand your confusion, but mistaking Twitter for a brawl ring and making up a conspiracy theory about it is not against our Terms of Services.”

“I want a refund of my services right now!” “Dear, you have purchased it via cryptocurrency.”

“Why is my email service suspended?” “I understand your frustration, but sending ‘I love you, please come back to me.’ to the same email address 1000 times per day is the cause of your UBL blacklisting.”

“What do you wish to use the domain for?” “Yeah, I want to use it for phishing and criminal activities. Can it be not suspended?”

---

Very interesting! Thank you for sending them in, they are great!

- Jana

[georgiapeach30513]

Sometimes I think about when CE mentioned like three separate times this year and last (wow this was a very long year wasn’t it) how the industry makes you do things you don’t always want to do, but you have to.

I felt like some ppl made fun of him for saying that but I always wondered what he could be referring to. Maybe it’s just overthinking and it didn’t mean anything. Maybe I’m wrong. But.

I’m not sure if he’s made comments like this prior to the past year but I’ve wondered if something really truly has happened and it ultimately led to his very very confusing GQ interview that was released a few months ago.

I know somebody will read this (if you choose to post it) and accuse me of “white man defense syndrome” or whatever but I don’t think he’s the only one to allude to things not being peachy in Tinseltown. But the way he said it wasn’t exactly shading it the way Michelle Yeoh did during her golden globes speech - it felt deeper, sadder. Almost like whatever went down has led him basically giving up but now just being called ungrateful by former fans.

I don’t feel that way. I feel that it’s a person who’s going through a rough patch but they still have public and professional obligations and they’re trying to show up for it but are still human.

I’ve seen other celebs go through the same. It’s not just him. I do hope he gets out of it eventually and like you have mentioned, finds that passion again.

And yes - for all the people who thought he just an abandoned the ASP site because it wasn’t convenient anymore…he shows up for his work obligations. You may not like how he shows up - but he does.

Hollywood is a shit storm of gross behavior and just things that don’t make sense. It’s a cesspool of disgusting people and behavior and it just gets covered up the majority of the time. And if you speak up against it you get blacklisted.

So there is not telling why he said that or what he is referring to. Actors have to pay their dues and it’s usually not in the ways that the public sees. Eventually those lights aren’t as alluring as people once thought. You have to know your limitations.

[feather-dancer]

just a business transaction, please!

HO BOY the rare "It didn't spawn on discord first" given how much for that fandom does. This is also going under a cut given the rating.

So apparently in very late July last year (?!) I woke up with these words still rattling in my brain as you do.

"Only men have ever had the audacity to offer..." "Then clearly you have only had the pleasure of boring people. Answer me this time instead of changing the subject: Will following your orders anyway be a problem?"

One of those stupid things you end up doing sometimes involves @writer-rider-flirty-thirties and me trying to have at least one (1) piece of writing in some form for every two person ship. This is based on spreadsheet data I made and excludes the adults purely because even just the kids takes FOREVER to collate. We've flipped a lot, I keep putting aged up monsterfucker stuff out there you know how it is. It gets the world more than just endless lovesquare it should be considered an important community service. Because of that, Bre went and picked three people and I started wrangling those original lines as a whole ass oneshot.

I've got to be in the right mood to write the thing because of the rating, otherwise took me a bit of figuring out the dynamics for the ship to work within those weird brain leftovers.

That said:

“Remember now, honeybee, we’re dressing for impressing. Every star earned for services rendered is an extra five minutes with the sofa bed rolled out later and you know I’m as good as my word.” She doesn’t need to glance at her reflection to know her cheeks are burning, not if her boss’ grin is anything to go by. Those ratings have become a potent currency to be cashed out as the holder sees fit, and well, there is an unspoken extra perk to being in the head of staff position. “I might even be persuaded to close up shop early if it’s glowing bright enough if you need any extra incentive but for now let’s just see how things go. Everything good so far?”

There's more than a few gems in here:

Partners in business Partners in life Partners in private

So whole thing has ended up like a hotel? Place of business?? Where clients can pay big money for entertainment behind closed doors and not one word of it will escape. Privacy is everything even if you want something as mundane as a clown party you'd dreamed of as a kid. Break the rules such as touching any the staff without express permission though? Get blacklisted from the establishment in all forms and fined. They do not fuck around.

One of the characters in here is Trans and also got caught up in a splicer fad rich people had going for a while until the law caught up and banned it. Finding employment when you have insect wings and weird eyes is pretty difficult so that white whale of good boss that will protect your ass is like gold dust.

This oneshot isn't one of the more innocent jobs though that wake up line was VERY clear about that and wanted to keep to the spirit of it. They're in their early/mid 20s in this so what do I care. With this fandom unlike ToA I have zero attachment to the characters in canon so I just kinda grab them, change the ages, actually give them personalities that are stuck to, put them in situations and off we gooo.

[redheadbigshoes]

Hi this is the anon with the gf that doesn’t want to admit bisexuals and lesbians experiences are different, and how she sometimes will make me feel obligated to take the “top” or “masc” roll of the relationship and how she talks about “missing dick”. I’ve talked to her in the past about these things when they started to surface and she’s just trying to shut the convo down which isn’t like her.

. I went to talked to her and we broke up. I said that as a lesbian I cannot date someone who will not take to heart that I am a lesbian and that it is a huge part of my identity she’s been kinda ignoring. I also said that her talking about dick to me is just uncalled for. So lo and behold she called me biphobic for me not wanting to hear about her attraction to men and the sex. Girl I’m a fucking lesbian I don’t want to hear about those things and I am not biphobic for that! I brought up how she will obligate me to be the “masc” (idk how else to put it). Whenever I would express my femininity she’d shut me down. She had nothing to say to that just a pale face. It looked liked she saw a ghost

But all of our friends came to my side thankfully and pretty much she (my now ex-gf) has no friends anymore. She’s already been “blacklisted” sort of in the lgbt community that’s in my town bc apparently she did the same things to one of the ex gfs and we all heard that she would gaslight make a ex-bfs of hers pay for everything and would expect gifts from him but would never get anything for him or pay for dates. So yeah all of her true colors are coming out and she’s a horrible partner to every one of her gfs and bfs she’s had. I feel a little silly for not seeing these red flags. But I can’t do anything about it now.

It’s funny bc her ex bc messaged me about 6months into our relationship saying “hey don’t be mad at me pls hear me out. She is bad news you need to run she’ll drain you dry in the strangest ways.”

Also to make her even look worse she’s purposely trigger my BPD and then would blame in on my BPD. Id tell her my triggers and it almost would come across like she’d so them on purpose. I honestly think I was dealing with a narcissist or someone with narcissistic tendencies (I’m not trying to throw the word narcissist lightly).

But yeahhhh.. sorry for the long post. I guess I needed to rant too haha

You are not biphobic for not being comfortable about talking about the things she wants to… Not to mention how her attraction seems to be so based on someone’s genitals…

From everything you said I am just really glad and happy that you’re not with her anymore. No one deserves someone like her.

You’re not silly for not having seen her red flags, some people sometimes just show their true colors after you get to know them.

I hope you’re feeling better now!

[halofcrged]

RULES.

            going to try and keep this pretty simple & straightforward.

I.  You must be 18+ to interact with me. I am 42 years old.

            There will be not safe for work content on this blog of the sexual and potentially of the graphic violence nature.  I do tag everything that might be triggering and am happy to tag whatever you ask me to so long as I remember!

                            I ask that you tag any visuals containing spiders with spider tw* spiders tw* arachnophobia tw* etc etc and yes, I know it’s a weird one but anything about the taste of soap or eating soap is a trigger so just tag it with soap tw* or penny don’t look* as I have that blacklisted too.  I don’t have any triggering fcs or what not.

II. This blog is multi-ship, multi-verse, crossover & au friendly.  

          Every ship is in its’ own verse unless previously discussed with all parties.  Every thread or set of threads takes place in its own universe unless previously discussed with all parties.

III.  I write anything from one-liners to novellas, it really just depends on life, my headspace, how much sleep I’ve been getting, how much else I have going on in real life, etc.

IV. My activity is NOT consistent.  I am infamous for blog hopping.  I have literally replied to some starters / replies two years+ after they were originally written.  I am not fast.  If I am fast, it’s by some small miracle and perfect storm of brain, muse and free time.  It will not last.

V.  I have kids, cats and dogs; I am in college, I have a household to take care of and I have many physical and mental handicaps that can affect my ability to function and write, including but not limited to rheumatoid arthritis, osteoarthritis, spinal stenosis, ganglion cysts, torn meniscus, migraines, hypothyroidism, PMDD, nerve damage, herniated disc, ADHD, depression, anxiety, C-PTSD and severe insomnia.  

                          Roleplay is something I do for fun.  

                                  If it isn’t fun, I don’t do it.  

                                         If it’s stressing me out, I’ll avoid it.  

VI. I do graphic commissions.  

          I run @tuppencetrinkets where I post the millions of screencaps and 200x100 icons that I make.  The resources are free but donations are always appreciated as I pay about $40 in hosting / program fees a month.   My commissions are always pay what you can.  I hate setting prices because I want everyone to have pretties if they want them and I don’t know what anyone can afford at any given time.  I do everything from base icons to edited icons, backgrounds, headers, dividers, promos, videos, you name it.  I try to be quick with turnaround but again – sometimes I just can’t be.

VII.  I am fine with plotting things out in advance or winging it.  I really don’t care, whatever you are more comfortable with is fine with me.

               I like all kinds of plots.  I like fluffy things, slice of life, broships, frenemies, enemies, familial, found family, long arcing, one shot throwaway, dark and twisted, you name it plots.  I will not write n*ncon or anything nsfw themed /even hinted at with minor characters and I won’t write any explicit child death etc. but most everything else is fair game.

VIII.  You can throw a million memes at me any time you want to.

IX.  You can throw any and all starters at me any time you want to.

                I’m not necessarily mutual exclusive but I don’t guarantee I’ll respond to memes or starters from non-mutual blogs.

X. I use icons, headers, promos etc. that I make myself 99% of the time.  Please do not use any of my edited graphics.  All base icons I use are free and available on my resource blog.  

XI. I use small text and my icons are 200x100 with empty space to make them 540x130 so that they don’t stretch out on mobile.  I prefer not heavily edited replies in terms of font variance and colors but really don’t care that much.

XII.  I’ve probably forgotten relevant things but, who knows.

XIII.  No drama.  Period.  I’m not interested.  

XIV.  I’m here for fun.  I’m really pretty easy going.  If you have any questions feel free to toss them into my inbox!

[xplrvibes]

part two. Ive decided to make comments as i watch big bulks so i don’t forget what i’m thinking.

1. the more sam and colby talk abt cody and satori… the more i believe them. like maybe im just a chameleon to opinion but they genuinely seem to believe in c&s and i wasn’t there, i haven’t experienced any of this so i think i’m back to ‘hey maybe it wasn’t all bs and this might be real’. I also firmly do not believe cody was cracking joints bc how? they felt it in the floor, heard it in the walls.. doesn’t make sense. also if the house ever goes up again they need to put an offer down. i get what sam was saying and it not being practical (properly value 300k but asking for 1.4m? that’s steep). it’d be a great investment tho.

2. with sam and colbys luck, one of them would get the most undeniable evidence of the paranormal (someone levitating, thrown a distance, possessed…) and people would still be like ‘fake!’ Lol Also gram (?) just mentioned a similar experiment to what we were discussing the other day! except he said take random people and not tell them which is haunted, we were saying put snc in a place and not tell them its haunted and then see what happens. they liked that idea so who knows… they might lol

3. i will always be so fascinated and proud of colby for how he handled and continues to be so transparent about his cancer journey. i say journey bc it will continue to be apart of his life for years to come, whether through medical appointments, anniversary anxieties, or just talking about it. mad props to him, mad props.

4. i just got a series of flashes in my mind of black and white photos of snc respectively announcing engagements to their partners and births of their children and it made me smile. one day, boys. one day that’ll be your future, your “purpose”.

done.

- aussie anon

always nice to listen to podcasts where everyone knows each other well, its less interviewy and more just a convo with friends caught on camera.

Also I hope their merch is still in stores next time i’m in the usa bc i would definitely grab a hoodie. just don’t wanna pay the insane conversion rate and shipping costs. i priced it, a hoodie + shipping works out to be $149aud. sorry boys… can’t do it 😂

1, I believe that they believe in Cody and Satori. I've never called snc's credibility into question with that whole mess, and it kind of annoys me that others do - not cause I think they are above reproach or something, but because people love to say "oh snc never bothered to even try to debunk these guys, so they must be in on it." Like, WHAT? They literally flew back across the country weeks later to try and debunk it cause they knew full well that there were a lot of ways out and around this. When the controversy started, they reached out to C&S and asked if they could run more tests and C&S said no. SNC, having done all of that, came out still believing them while also fully acknowledging that they could be faking - not much else they can do besides that right there, so why they are still coming under fire about it when C&S are the "frauds" is beyond me.

Literally, do y'all want them to kidnap these two people, tie them up, remove their shoes, and force them to do this barefoot? Do you want them to release this additional footage they have that C&S did not give them permission to release that they could probably get sued over (since releasing it would be done without consent) and possibly blacklisted from the entire paranormal community, just so reddit can have their fucking jollies? Like...?? Go after C&S and let snc continue to have their beliefs on the whole thing, since they did everything they felt they could to disprove this before making their decision on where they stood on the issue.

Sorry for the rant, that whole situation just annoys me.

As far as them almost buying the house - that made me laugh, cause we joked about the possibility of them doing that on here back when the house went up for sale. So knowing it almost happened is not only funny, but also explains some vague shit they said back in the day about possibly owning a haunted house lol.

2, You know, Sam's exuberant insistence that he wants to have some horrible thing happen to him so that he could have the experience and finally know for 100% that the paranormal is real is exactly the problem with Sam, and I've been calling that out for years. The fact that he can so casually say it out loud made me both feel vindicated and perturbed by him and his hubris (here's a good example of his hubris again lol).

But yea, I hope they take the idea and run with it!

3, I thought it was interesting to hear him be honest about the fact that this whole situation with the cancer is hitting him harder now than it did while he was in the thick of it. That is trauma. That is shock and adrenaline wearing off, and hindsight creeping in. I think it's important to be able to come out and say, "Yea, not all of this is a positive, and some of this will stick with you for years." Colby tries his damndest (to a fault sometimes) to always come across as a glass all the way full and overflowing kind of guy, or a stoic soldier who doesn't complain and keeps his head up, but then he's also very open about his emotional state, and vaguely alludes to his deep mental health struggles from time to time and I just think there's a well of really dark emotion buried deep, deep inside of him that would be healthier for him and everyone to let out every once in a while.

Anyway, that was a side tangent to the main point, which is that it is very impressive that he continues to put himself out there and speak so candidly about such a stigmatized topic.

Although, I don't think he grasps what the word "celibate" means, but he tried and that's what counts lol

4, I think it's high comedy that these two act like they've never given thought to their kids growing up together when they literally were just joking about this on xplrclub a few months ago. These two have brains like sieves lol.

Also, the looks on their faces when the host said "you should have girlfriends that are friends with each other" like yea, they are working on that right now, as a matter of fact.

And I think they'll be in Zumiez for a long time, so you should be good!!

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Why is Louis relationship to alcohol and drugs so blacklisted in this fandom? I find his public promotion of it questionable. I don't wanna assume too much either because I know we don't know him personally. But just considering what we get to see about him and his life during tour for example I feel like this whole topic is weirdly untouched and kind of ignored in our fandom. Just to make it clear what im referring to here: we know for a fact that he drinks on stage, before and after the show, broke his arm twice and implied it had to do with a drunk state of mind, we see him at a pub all the time. He says in interviews that he lives very unhealthy. In almost every picture of him he either drinks or smokes. And this is not me making things up in my head. Louis himself talks about how much he drinks and that he does it to calm his nerves before a gig. He doesn’t hide it at all. At jimmy Fallon he had a vodka bottle backstage, too. He has vodka Red Bull during his concerts, a fan once managed to get his half empty cup after the show from stage and confirmed it. We see his behavior and we see his appearance and how he’s changed in the past 5 to 6 years. The guy from the snuts said in an interview how impressed he was by Louis and his drinking habits and that he just wouldn’t stop taking shots in on tour. If you know just a little bit about the consequences of long term alcohol consumption it’s hard to oversee it at this point. Of course we lack information because we don’t know him but I do think it's reasonable to talk about it more and to be skeptical especially since his fans are really young and impressionable. I just wanna say, I think we should be more open and more skeptical toward things like that and question things more even if it goes against of what we think of Louis and what we love him for. I think that should be possible since we have no problem to endlessly discuss his sexuality and romantic relationships, either. I already kinda expect that you either gonna ignore this or just gonna tell me that nothing of this is reasonable to do as a fan. But I just wanna give my thoughts. I do think it’s a serious problem. I don’t worry as in I’m scared for him, I just find it weird that it gets either downplayed or entirely denied by his fans for the most part.

Oh anon - I don't really know where to start with this. Anyone who thinks Louis' fans don't discuss his alcohol use haven't been paying attention to my anons, who bring this up quite often.

I struggle to respond seriously to an anon that contains the idea'we see him at a pub all the time' as a reason for concern. Both because we don't. And because it shows a lack of curiosity of drinking cultures and the roles pub play in culture. Even if we saw in a pub multiple times every week I'd find your comment really, really odd.

But I'm going to try and answer. Even if I'm also, ultimately going to say exactly the things you expect me to say. But the question that I'm going to answer is - what would it mean for fans to have serious and realistic discussions of alcohol and drugs.

The first thing I'm going to say is thatimagining Louis' fans as young and vulnerable and therefore somehow at risk by the fact that he drinks alcohol is an entirely unserious framing. It needs to be dismissed out of hand. The idea that popstars or other celebrities need to either live a constrained life or hide part of their life to avoid being a bad influence is an incredibly reactionary one.

I think the starting point of any discussion has to be touring. The reason that there's a high level of drink and drugs among touring musicians - isn't because of some kind of intrinsic decadence of the industry. It's that touring has very specific stressors and a structure that allows people to maintain a functional life while dealing with those stressors with a lot of drugs and alcohol.

There are risks with dealing with the stress of tour drugs and alcohol, and people who use drugs and alcohol in all kinds of way can realise that what they are doing is making things worse. I think we can say with some confidence that Louis is dealing with the stress of tour with alcohol (and probably drugs). But being able to say that doesn't actually tell us what impact the alcohol and drugs are having on his life.

If you're in an industry where drugs and alcohol is a common way to deal with stress, then those who are at risk of addiction are much more likely to become addicted. But it's important to underline that addiction is a much bigger and harder thing than using alcohol and drugs to deal with stress. And one of the biggest predictors of addiction is trauma.

The new documentary on the BBC about Matt Willis from Busted really underlines that. He is an addict and he is very committed to staying sober. But as a band they all drank a lot - one of his bandmates tells a story about throwing up in Matt Willis's suitcase. That guy was like 'I didn't realise how dark things are were for you' and still has alcohol on his rider today. To an observer Matt Willis and his bandmate would have looked the same - but they weren't fucking their life up in the same way. You can't tell an addict from how much you see them drinking - the whole point of addiction is a combination of compulsion and shame.

What does understanding all this mean for how we think about drugs and alcohol and 1D members? The first thing we need to do is acknowledge how high risk they all are. Any study of boybands will show that it's a profession with a very high risk of addiction.

To take that risk seriously is to acknowledge that it's always a possibility. There's always a possibility that they're in active addiction. There's often a possibility that they're recovery - when people disappear they might be in rehab (and if that was true that's really great - because obviously when people go to rehab it's better than the alternative).

To take the risk seriously means not to talk about it in a 'ewwww gross drinking won't anyone think of the children'. But instead: 'Addiction is really hard to deal with, and trauma is a huge contributor. I hope that any 1D member dealing with addiction has what they need'.

To take the risk seriously is to acknowledge that to say something is a risk means to deal with uncertainty. We know that they're at risk. We may learn more (and I think we have at times), but in the meantime all we can do is sit with the knowledge of the risks of the industry for people like them.

[watermelonsloth]

OTPs and NOTPs have less to do with the ships and more to do with the characters

(Disclaimer: I’m speaking in extremely general terms and there are exceptions amongst ships/shippers. I’m also not trying to devalue or insult ships, or claim that one ship/shipper is somehow better than another. This post is meant to be an observation, not a judgement.)

I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that, at least amongst the most popular ships in the Naruto fandom, many ships have very little to do with the dynamics between two characters and more to do with one character getting their “happily ever after.” This is most apparent when you pay less attention to what a shipper is saying and more to how they’re saying it. A lot of ships are described using character-centric language.

(Disclaimer: I’m not saying don’t listen to what’s being said ever, otherwise you’ll never understand their thought process, I’m just saying that you can learn just as much about a ship by listening to the language used.)

SasuSaku is a Sakura-centric ship where Sakura gets the man she wants while simultaneously winning against all the other girls fighting for his hand. This is why in the retsuden Sasuke is so out of character and is sometimes referred to as “whipped for Sakura” by fans.

NaruHina is a Hinata-centric ship where Hinata marries the man she’s pined after for so long. This is why the last focuses on Hinata so much and Naruto is treated as an incredibly dense knight in shining armor.

NaruSaku is a ship that goes either way approximately 60-40. Naruto-centric shippers want Naruto to anchieve every dream he’s ever had and Sakura-centric shippers want Sakura to settle down with the person who’s been so dedicated to her. (I say either instead of both because I very rarely find shippers that vocalize the benefits for both parties.) This is (one of the reasons) why so many NaruSaku fans were surprised that it didn’t become canon; they think that Naruto’s wants weren’t prioritized or that Sakura’s character arc is incomplete.

SasuNaruSasu I’ve also seen go either way but it is largely a Naruto-centric ship where Naruto saves the man he spent so much time chasing after. This is (one of the reasons) why SNS fans think that the ship would’ve been canon if it were straight.

(I could go on, but that would take a while and I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure the rest out or do your own research.)

Why does the Naruto fandom often use the words “deserve” and “earn” despite that not being how relationships work? This is why. Why is one character more frequently used as a self-insert than others? This is why.

This is also where a lot of NOTPs stem from. There are a lot reasons why people don’t ship something or viscerally hate a ship, and this is one of the big ones. “Anti-” shippers often don’t like a certain character and don’t like any ships that favor that character, and they certainly don’t like any ships that favor that character over their favorite. This is why many Sasuke fans hate SasuSaku and SNS. This is why many Naruto fans don’t care for NaruHina. NaruSaku again is a slight exception in the way that some “anti-” shippers hate Sakura and don’t want Naruto with her or hate Naruto and want Sakura with someone else.

This is why I have personally blacklisted many anti-[enter ship here] tags. They’re full of character bashing.

Once again, this is meant to be writing out a general pattern I’ve observed. It’s not meant to be against any ships and I’m sorry if it comes across that way. This might just be me saying what everyone else already knows, but I’ve already typed it and I’m not going back.

[icarianwriting]

Writing Comms

Hello! My name is Icarus and I’m a trans man that’s been writing for about six years now. I’m having to receive some out of state care for my HRT so I’m opening up writing comms to try and get some extra money to help pay for that! My first appointment is coming up in July and after that I’ll have to take monthly/bi-monthly trips which puts quite a bit of financial strain on me. Anything helps and you’ll be able to get a writing piece out of it! My carrd has all my TOS and rules and below you can find my prices and some examples! Be sure to read ALL of my rules and don’t ask me to write anything in my “Will Not Write” list, you will be blacklisted. At the moment my slots are unlimited and if this gets more attention, I may up the word count I’m willing to write! Be

Some of my more recent writing examples can be found here! I am open to accepting rush fees but they depend on the length of the work as well as the time limit I’m being given, just ask.  Please fill out this form and I’ll reach out to discuss more details about your piece!

[deepest-dope]

Episode 1 Part 2

In the transition from one universe to another Cave may have lost his transmasc cyborg cowboy swagger but this strange new alternate mentally healthier cave has gained something, a sort of fear of the only living relative he is currently aware of not liking him Part 2 girlies the car ride back. you can blacklist  Cave gets Isekai’d if you dont want to see his playthrough

Without quite realizing it he hunches in on himself and reaches up to scratch at his neck. Even though she invited him here he’s still kind of intimidated. Ah shit, what do I even say? “Hey Tabitha...” Yeah probably should say more then that... But before he can really think of what she starts hussling him to her car.

Okay... so we’re going He gets in the passenger seat without much fight, and proceeds to stare out the window for a while after she starts driving to muster up the courage to converse with his cousin. Wonders what to even say? Check on her maybe? He’s never known what to do for these things. “How are you holding up?” He finally asks but she brushes him off immediately.

Is she really though? He doesn’t have great memory of the time immediately following his mother’s death given the state of his life at the time but he does NOT think he was doing well, but he doesn’t think he was in too big a hurry to get vulnerable with anyone either, not even family if he’d been able to contact them. He decides to try and let her know he’s here anyway, not that he expects her to take it. “Okay but if that ever changes, I’m here for you, alright? Even after I go home” Which gets him another brush off. He ends up resorting to his default response of offer to help with something. Is there a normal way to volunteer to do that? Please god give me something, anything to do for you here. I’m kind of regretting that I quit smoking before coming out here, at least I’dve had one more thing to ask about. I don’t even have a lighter on me now. 

Well shit there goes that. Think Caveman think theres gotta be something right? “I can’t believe we’ve never actually met before this” What the FUCK was that Caveman? He realizes in this instant his right hands crept up to start picking at the skin on his neck while he wasn’t paying attention and tries to nonchalantly move it down onto his lap without drawing any more of Tabitha’s notice. Even though she’s focused on the road, he’s hyper aware of himself out of a vague desperate desire to make a good impression.

Well that went nowhere. He really doesn’t know where to go from there, but still he’s willing to try. He tries throwing out a last ditch olive branch, “I wish I’d known about you” Even he doesn’t know quite what he was trying to accomplish with that.

And thats all he had. I’m...gonna shut up before I say something fucked. Just like that, he’s left silent, to think about just how much of his conversational skill hinged on asking “hey is it cool if I smoke in your car/house” with an occasional “Did you want one?” thrown out for flavor. In defeat he returns to picking at the scar on his neck for the remainder of the ride. Truly, he has been nerfed by his supportive foster father. How could that man have helped him quit smoking?

...It looks like its about to slide off the cliff...Deep breathes Caveman...It’ll be fine...I’m sure its not as bad inside.

[midnightunderground-npcs]

Interview: Rosemary Loup

Dossier:

Name: Rosemary “Rosie” Loup

Age: 23

Species: Werewolf 

Circle: Night

Known Relationships: Member of the Talbot Pack

Interview:

What's your name?

“Oh.” Rosemary swallows and looks around a moment, her hands twitching as she fidgets. “Rosemary Loup, but uh, my friends all call me Rosie. Or they used to, I guess.”

How do you know Tabitha Spencer?

“Tabitha? I mean we’re both turned wolves, not bitten. That sort of makes you stick out around here in the wolf packs. We were from different ones but she was always nice to me. One of the few people that night who seemed to care that I was there.”

How do you know Jose Alves Cruz?

For this, she can’t look up, taking a deep breath. What is there to say. “Jose is...I don’t know. He’s fine. He’s the mayor. And he bossed me around that night like I was some kind of servant. He asked me to grab him something from under the bar and bring it to him so I did. It was in this kind of tin box I guess. My hands itched for a minute, while I was carrying it, like I thought maybe it was silver, but I gave it to him anyway. But it wasn’t, right? It wasn’t because it shot Hollis so it had to be iron.”

How do you know Hollis Fiala?

“I don’t!” Rosemary answers quickly. “I don’t. I don’t know them. I just know they’re running for Orator but we’re not supposed to vote for them because that’s what your parents said. Because they won’t help us out or whatever. I don’t know them. I wouldn’t shoot them.”

Did you see the shot happened/What happened that night from your perspective?

She swallows, unable to meet Connor’s eyes. Her voice gets quiet. “I was on the floor when it happened, when there was that shot. I heard the chamber click first, but it only clicked one time. I heard the gunshot before I heard the click. There should have been two. And then everything was chaos and I was so scared. I saw your parents try to run for me, make sure I wouldn’t shift, but I did anyway and it just...I made such a mess, just like I always do. And now they have to figure out how to pay for it without getting Thaddeus blacklisted from the Strat all because I couldn’t keep it together.”

When did you get the invitation for the party/know you were going to work it?

“We’re one of the only catering companies that exclusively does Underground parties so we get a lot of traffic. Not even Aware are allowed to work for us to avoid anything scary happening. Your grandma set me up with the job after I had to drop out of school. They pay enough and they’re really nice people. God, and it’s all my fault, isn’t it? They’re probably going to fire me after I shifted like that. I’ve kept my head down and just followed the rules for so long.”

Did you go with someone?

“Just everyone in the catering company.” Rosie pushes her hair back from her face and the tears start to prickle at the corners of her eyes. “They’re good people. They are. I’m good people.”

Do you own a gun/have you ever owned a gun?

She shakes her head. “No. No I never owned a gun, not ever. I don’t even touch them. My ex-boyfriend, he used to have them, but I never liked it so I kept away even when they were at our apartment. We broke up when he turned me and that was three years ago, so I haven’t been around one since.

Rosemary reaches for Connor’s arm, pulling on his sleeve gently. “Can I talk to you about something? Off the record.”