#also how rude... not good office etiquette

[narrators-journal]

Working late

Previous: Here

For the rest of the time Ango had off, he spent with you. It was a nice time, and it made him happier than he had been in a long while to have someone to talk to that wasn't Tsujimura. It also helped that he could talk about something other than his job with you, as well as have something to think about aside from said job. So, in the end, he didn't regret trying out that dating app, even though he'd been so skittish to build a connection with someone. You, meanwhile, didn't seem to care about all of the flaws he brought up on your dates. You were fine with him not having much time to do much, and seemed to accept that this long stretch of time off wasn't his usual schedule. Thankfully, you didn't pry into why he'd suddenly gotten a month off if it wasn't normal.              "I'm not looking for a constant partner. I can deal with taking things slow and being long distance," You assured on the second to last day of his break, wrapping an arm around him in a small hug, "My only demand is that I'm allowed to send you stuff and keep in contact as much as possible. Please just don't ghost me." He nodded, and with that, you seemed pretty content with that, letting him leave to return to work after his month off. Sadly, his happiness was swiftly squished under the weight of the work Taneada gave him upon his return. Of course, it wasn't a surprise to him, his boss had always been keen on shoving piles of work at him whenever he could get away with it. So, he just dug in and focused on catching up for the month of work he'd missed. So, another week passed uneventfully. Ango hadn't gone home more than two or three times, instead opting to crash on one of the decorative office couches for small naps when he got too exhausted to continue to work at times. He was swiftly exhausted, struggling to keep awake and to avoid completely crashing and sleeping for most of the day during his little naps. Though, it wasn't all bad. He tried his best to reach out to you when he could, and you were one of the few bright spots he had on the days where he was too busy to go home. (y/n): You doing alright? Wishing for another vacation yet lol.Ango: Very much so, but the paperwork is pretty standard, so it's nothing too taxing. (y/n): Ew, that sounds so boring. Ango: It is. That's why I didn't go into detail about my job, other than some of it being classified. (y/n): Yeah, kinda would've ruined dinner if I fell asleep to your paperwork chat lol. Ango: Lol. He smiled as he read your casual messages while he laid in the dark office long after even Tsujimura and Taneada had gone home, leaving him with the night security guards and little else in the way of coworkers. Usually, Ango just went to sleep as quickly as possible, having honed the skill of falling asleep on command pretty much, but when you'd checked in on him, he was fine with staying up to talk to you and unwind that way, and when his phone vibrated to notify him of another of your messages, he was further encouraged to stay awake out of pure curiosity. (y/n): Hey, Ango, I might know a way for you to destress. Ango: What is it? Yoga?(y/n): Nope! With that message, you sent a photo attachment, and he turned quite red before he'd even opened the file. Oh god, please don't be up for sexting. I'm much too rusty at that. He quickly plead internally, than, after swallowing the anxious lump in his throat, he opened the picture. Sure enough, it was a risque photo of yourself, nothing nude, but he got a healthy hint of what you looked like beneath your clothing. It brought a bright red color to his pale cheeks, but he didn't dislike the image, in fact, it honestly sent a bolt of excitement straight to his pants. Though, he was then faced with the predicament of responding. Fuck, do I comment on their body? Their underwear? He mulled over his options for a long moment and tried to formulate a good response that didn't sound too rude, but in the end he still struggled. Ango: Why the sexual image? Ango: You look nice, Ango:Your undergarments are rather cute. (y/n): Lol, take your time, dear. Ango let his phone fall to his chest after that and just scrubbed at his face with both of his hands, being mindful of his round glasses, then wiped his sweaty palms on the couch before finally sending a response he didn't delete. Ango: I'm sorry if I seem rude, I'm not used to being sent photos. You are very attractive. (y/n): Awww, thank you~ Have you really not been sent risque pictures before? Ango: Not really, haven't had many partners before to try. (y/n): Lolol, well dear, it's usually good etiquette to send a pic in return if you want😉 That sent another hot bolt of thrill to his groin, but he wasn't super sure on whether he should give into that lascivious voice in his head. Is it really smart to do this? They could use any compromising pictures against you. The anxious voice in his head whispered, but, after a moment or two of debating, the glasses-wearing man took a deep breath and let it out slowly, I guess it wouldn't hurt, as long as I don't show my face it shouldn't be that bad, even if they does use it against me. Besides, I can't exactly sleep comfortably after this, might as well take a photo while I'm at it. He told himself, using a bit of reasoning to curb how anxious he felt on his way to the men's room, the one rare place where there wasn't any security cameras. Once safely hidden in a stall with his phone, out of the view of any of the night guards or security cameras, Ango took a moment to relax so his hands didn't shake too badly, then, pulled his pants down just enough to let his semi-erect member free. He then took a moment to figure out how to take a passable picture and sent it off, his cheeks now as red as a rose and his gut was in a maelstrom of nerves, excitement, and arousal while waiting the painfully slow minute it took for you to reply to his picture. When you did, it was with a second image, (y/n): I appreciate your bravery~ Here, a final little picture for ya before I go to bed. Good night, Ango~ Your humor helped to relax him after such a nerve-wracking adventure into such a new territory. Not to say Ango wasn't a puritan, he'd had sex more than once, and he was pretty flexible with what he did in bed, but sending lewd photos from work was a new, anxiety-filled experience. Although, his stiffened member didn't seem to care about that paranoia. Fuelled by your second, slightly more risque image, his member now demanded to be dealt with before he even thought of sleep.He let out a little sigh and ran a hand through his dark hair, taking his glasses off and setting them carefully on the back of the toilet before shutting his dark green eyes and began to slowly stroke himself. The friction his hand gave, paired with the images now in his mind was the perfect mix to form fantasies starring you. Thoughts of you taking his long-neglected member into your mouth, or maybe riding him, so many thoughts that made his erection twitch filled his mind, trickling in as he finally fed his long neglected sexual needs ever so slightly. He hadn't done so in so long that he forgot just how addictive it could be to chase that delicious boost of happy chemicals masturbation could give him, but he was highly enjoying rediscovering the pleasure of the friction from his hands when paired with the fantasy of you being the one to stroke his twitching member until the pleasure reached its peek and a groan was yanked from his throat and quickly muffled as his body tensed and his brain was filled with static for a few moments. When he'd come down from that high, his euphoria was quickly replaced by immense shame, so he was swift to put his softening dick away and scrub up the evidence of his alone time. He put his glasses back on, straightened his clothes, and took a few deep breaths to slow his pounding heart and lessen the stain to his cheeks before he left the bathroom and returned to the couch. This time, he just went to sleep.

#Ango Sakaguchi #bsd #Ango x reader #bungo stray dogs #x reader #fanfiction #not sfw #long distance #quotev

[hollyhomburg]

Ohhh my godddd u have me horny on that royal guard bts au 😭😭 how did they all meet? Did the boys mess around with each other first? Or with the m/c? How did they even get close to the m/c let alone get to sleep w her since she’s a royal?

hmm, I think that the boys were probably all training around the same time and ended up all placing at the top of their class. And were then assigned to the royal guard over a few years. like- obviously Seokjin would be appointed first- and I have it in my head that he was probably like the 13th son of a lower-ranking lord or something and he wouldn’t have had a name or a title really- had he not decided to become a guard. And he chose it because it was a good opportunity. And because of this- that's why he has etiquette training and ends up being her etiquette teacher. 

 I think the boys all have a mish-mosh of background stories. I think that Hoseok was probably a prisoner or a child Theif that got sent to the military academy as apart of his sentence- meanwhile no one expected him to be as good at fighting as he is- and Namjoon and he became such close friends that they both helped each other get to the top. 

Meanwhile, Yoongi’s probably an orphan. And Vmin where probably in love for years during their academy days and kept their love a secret from the others until they realized that half of them were involved. Jungkook’s father is probably some general or something and sent Jungkook to the military school so that he could follow in his footsteps. 

I think they all ended up working for the royal guard, which has its own special set of rules. Such as no marriage, no children, no partners- mostly because they’re a little bit brainwashed to only thinking about protecting the monarchy and serving them. Each battalion is assigned to guard one member of the royal family. and it just so happened that they all were assigned to the same battalion. Though most of the Hyung line served in separate divisions prior. 

i think once they all realize that like- vmin are fucking, and yoongi and seokjin are fooling around occasionally on the side, and jungkook has intense romantic feelings for namjoon, and namjoon feels the same for hoseok. they kind of come to a realization and an agreement that anything that happens in their barrack stays in their barrack. Which is how it starts between all of them. 

I think they got close enough with her because at first when she came to the castle she was really sad. Very out of her element and away from all members of her family- she definitely didn’t have anyone to talk to or even have companionship. She’d definitely want to get to know them because of their proximity to her. And I think they’d all be a little endeared at first because she is so interested in learning about their lives and knowing them personally, the first royal to really treat them like people.

 I think one day she’d level a look at jungkook- sitting in his chair uncomfortable because all of his training has told him to never sit in the presence of a royal even though she asked him to sit with her for tea. “forgive me, my lady, if I might ask a question.” and when you gesture for him to continue, “why do you ask us so many questions? why do you treat us so-” us- referring to the rest of the battalion- the rest of Jungkook’s family. And I think he’d get a little bit smitten when she smiled at him. “Why do I treat you like the people you are? how could I expect you to show me kindness officer Jeon- if I did not show you the same? how could I expect you to care for me if I don't care for you?” and I think that's the moment that Jungkook knows he’d die for you. he’s never been treated with kindness from a woman before- not his own mother. and he’s kinda smitten instantly.

for the others it's much of the same story. like- I think Hoseok might be something of a pariah because he’s so lowborn, kind of the ire of many of the lords and ladies that someone like that is allowed to be in their presence. and maybe one of the ladies makes some sort of backhanded comment or acts creepy towards him and she just goes absolutely feral on them making them apologize and bow to Hoseok. something like “forgive me, your highness- I did not mean any rudeness, I do not view your servant with anything but the utmost regard” “if that is true- you certainly won’t mind giving him a proper apology.” 

I think that one of them would even act creepy towards Jimin for his looks and she’d actually slap them. and of course, no one would ever think of hurting you so they can’t retaliate, but afterward, Jimin binds your hands and says something like “do not hurt yourself for us, my lady, we can manage” and “no one speaks like that to you under my watch” 

ahhhhh I like the idea of like, bangtan being kind of the pariahs among the royal guard, shoved together into a battalion because no one could understand them even though they’re the most elite warriors, being charged with guarding the reader who is also a fish out of water in the palace. falling in love with each of them in a different way. but they all have a relationship of mutual love and protection. she makes sure they’re treated the way they should be and in turn, they protect her against everything they can. I just imagine her falling asleep on Namjoon’s chest and his arms tightening around her feeling like nothing in the world could hurt her so long as he’s there. 

I think towards the first kisses they all share, they’d be very glad of the fact that they’re expected to be around her at all times. most of the time in shifts of two but other times in shifts of one- and if there are other people around- shifts of three. two of them outside of her door at all times.

 I just picture tae standing guard by her door smiling at her while she writes a letter to her family and her being like “you’re distracting me” 

“would you prefer it if I didn’t smile at you my lady?” somehow the words- my lady sound so much heavier in his mouth. so much more possessive then they used to 

“I’d like it more if you tell me why you’re smiling tae,” 

“you make me happy that's why.” she’d look up from her writing desk with warm cheeks and Tae would just have this shit-eating grin on his face glad that he could make her feel so flustered. 

I’ll leave it at that because this is so long~~~

#bts au #bts royal guard au #Anonymous

[sugiwa]

Hi. I am the Advice Anon. Please ignore those asks! I am so sorry for spamming your ask box. I still need help, so I’ll paste the entire thing over here. Again, sorry and thank you! Have a great day!

My reply and the full ask are below:

Hello! I hope you’ve been having a great day so far. This is probably unlike all of the other asks you get on a daily basis, author. However, I am in dire need of help, and I have turned to you. Before I begin, I want to apologize in advance, as this ask is going to be long. Now, like I said before, I need some help. You see, I am a freshman in high school, and school hasn’t even been going on for a full 10 weeks (a quarter), and I am already in a huge, messy, sticky situation. You probably already know that in high school, you need a certain number of credits in each field to be able to graduate. I am going to be extremely vague about this because it doesn’t really matter, and I’d really like to remain anonymous, if you know what I mean. One of the fields is World Languages and Visual Arts. Obviously, I am not talented enough to do Visual Arts, so I opted for World Languages instead. My teacher for the course I chose this year… she’s nice. Really kind, and I love that she makes learning a whole new language and culture, which is extremely hard, so much fun. And the fact that she’s one of the nicest teachers I know makes the rest of this so, so painful for me. 4 days ago, for me, was a Thursday. In this class, we had a vocab quiz that day (background info: two days before every quiz, my teacher posts a practice quiz to be done before class starts). I don’t really want to discuss what happened, as it still brings tears to my eyes, but I will give you a vague summary of what was going on. Basically, I couldn’t access my quiz (it was online), so my teacher told me to come in after school to re-do it. I was supposed to close down my computer and work on homework from another class, but instead of doing so, I worked on the practice quiz. And… this was considered cheating, because I was getting extra practice in before taking the quiz– something that the other students didn’t get, you know? My teacher saw my computer screen, and told me that she’d talk to me after school, and she’d be calling home. I couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the class, because I was afraid of what might happen when she called home. After school, she told me to speak with her, and be honest about it. When cheating happens, at our school, the teacher will write us up for Academic Dishonesty and give it to the administration, who then decides the consequences. My teacher had told me that if I was honest with her, she wouldn’t write my up; she’d just give me a zero on the quiz and call home and tell them what I did. I was honest with her, because like I said before, I was afraid. Once I told her everything that happened, she told me that I could call home, let them know what happened myself, and I’d be off the hook (with a zero on the quiz, of course). So, I called home, like she had asked of me, but… they didn’t pick up. I told her that they didn’t pick up, and she told me that it was fine, and that she’d talk to my parents in-person before they picked me up from school. I’m not going to lie, that terrified me more than calling home. I don’t really remember what happened after that, because I was too busy crying, but I do remember that she mentioned something about me doing this before, and that it was not OK to do it the second time, but she’d let me off the hook. The thing is, I am 100% sure I haven’t done this before… or maybe she just didn’t approach me the first time. I told her that I didn’t do this before, and she told me that I was lying again, and began to write me up. I told her that I didn’t mean to do this, and that I was sorry, but she told me to stop lying. She said that she DID approach me the first time I did this, and that I was rude to her then. This brought tears to my eyes– my kind of favorite teacher telling me that I was rude to her. You see, I didn’t grow up here, and although I’ve lived here for 4 years, I am not used to the way people interact here. It was very different where I grew up. For example, you didn’t ask each other how their day was, or what they did during their day, unless you were REALLY curious or concerned, because that was considered nosy and rude. So, I tend to be unintentionally rude, and completely oblivious to it; I have no idea when I’m being rude or not, unless someone specifically says so. I also don’t really understand people well, so that’s a huge problem. So… hearing this from her, really hurt. I told her that I didn’t intend to be rude, and I was trying my best to change (I mean, I was & am reading a book to teach me etiquette and all), and she replied with “that’s good to hear”. Then, when my parents came to pick me up, she talked to them, and even asked one of my parents to walk with us to the Administration Office to turn in the write up. Stuff happened, I got called into the Assistant Principal’s office, and now I have a zero on my quiz (and my homework activity that I never finished), Saturday School, and a black mark on my record. But the thing is… that’s not what I’m concerned about at all. Sure, getting my grades up in time for Progress Reports is going to be an extremely hard task, and Saturday School is going to leave a huge black mark on my record, but that’s not what I’m worried about. My grades have been fractured, but so has my relationship with this teacher. I feel as though she hates me now, that she has lost all trust in me. (Background info: our school does Odd and Even days, so I have half of my classes on one day and half on the other, so that means that I didn’t face my teacher at all on Friday) 3 days ago, on Friday, when I went to school, it was an average day. It would have been an amazing day, had it not been for the situation I was in. All I could think about that day was my World Language teacher. And just thinking about her, and about that classroom, it… gives me a bit of anxiety. This is where I need your help. What would you do if you were in my situation? I really want to repair my relationship with my teacher, because I know that she’s really important; we’re going to be on the same campus for the next 4 years of my life, and even more importantly, she’s going to be my teacher for the next 8 months. I want to graduate with good grades, but more importantly, I want to graduate without holding a grudge against my teacher. I want her to like me, and I want to gain her trust again. Today is a Sunday for me, and I have to go back to school tomorrow, and I have her class then. A part of me is really scared to go to school, a part of me is really angry at my teacher for reporting me (even though it was the right thing to do), and a part of me wants to ditch school tomorrow, or even drop out or transfer from her course, all because I don’t want to face her after I did the wrong thing. It’s not only that, either. I’ve also been avoiding my friends. Would you like to know why I am confiding in awesome strangers on the internet anonymously instead of letting my friends know what’s going on? It’s because I’m afraid that they won’t like me anymore, and they’d ditch me or something. They’re amazing people, and I know that they won’t do that, but a part of me is still paranoid. I’ve been avoiding my friends since Friday, barely talking to them at school, and texting them a little bit in our group chat. They don’t really suspect anything, but that’s good. And that’s why I am asking you. Not just you, but actually anyone who sees this, if they helped me, I’d really appreciate it. I really need help moving forward in this situation, and I’m desperate for help. My parents don’t understand the situation I’m in, and I’m too scared to talk to my friends about it, so I’d really appreciate the help. It’s OK if you don’t reply to this, author. I know that this doesn’t affect you in any way, so you’re not obliged to help me. I’d like to thank you for taking the time from your day to read these extremely long asks. Have a great day. P.S: I absolutely love What Heroes Do! Izumi is such a well written character, and sometimes, I see myself in her. The way she handles situations is so inspirational! And your writing skills are top-tier! My best friend and I actually started writing a book 4 years ago (I mean, we wrote for one month in 6th grade, and then spent one day in 8th grade editing it, and we’ve only got a prologue and 1.5 chapters done, so… clearly, we aren’t doing a good job lol), and you’ve inspired me to go back to that book and re-do it! Thank you so much for being such an inspiration and an idol of mine! Ilysm ❤️

sugiwa:

I wanted to take the  proper time to reply to this. I think any adult willing to hold a grudge against a child is in the wrong. You clearly made a mistake and are now taking steps to improve and learn from it. Additionally, I think teachers tend to forget how much stress students are under in their academic and private lives, so a mistake should be used as an opportunity to teach not punish. I don’t think that you should worry about what this teacher thinks of you. Your teacher didn’t believe you, despite you telling them the truth. No matter how kind or nice someone is, their behavior towards you will always reflect their inner thoughts. If you’ve clearly made a mistake, you should fight to prove that. It’s not as if you intended to ‘cheat,’ given the situation we’re all in with the pandemic, online classes and quizzes are the norm. These kinds of things probably happen regularly. Additionally. I don’t think you need to concern yourself with being rude. My culture is rather blunt and when I first moved here, people weren’t fans of brutal honesty, so it was a big cultural shock.  If people aren’t willing to learn about your culture and understand, then I don’t think they’re people worth hanging out with. Lean on your friends, I don’t think they’d make a big deal over a couple of mistakes and if they do, then it might be worth reconsidering why you were friends with them. 

Thank you for your kind words about the story and I really hope everything works out for you!!

#submission #anon

[faterpresources]

Anonymous:

Do you have any advice on how to start an rp blog? I feel like there's so much to do and so many specific things, it looks intimidating, but I really want to get into it (and your blog seems like a safe space to ask as a baby in the matter)

Hi! Thanks you for asking and for trusting. I do admit that rping on tumblr can look daunting and there is a series of things that are considered “etiquette” that might not be obvious for newcomers. And the only way to learn is to ask, right? As I’m not sure if you would like something more specific or a step-by-step, I’m going to go through the whole process.

note: this is a repost from an ask in a more reblog-friendly format

1.       Setting up the blog

You might want to make a new e-mail account for each blog you want. I recommend making a gmail/google account, so you may be able to use other services and associate them with your blog. I’ll go into more details in a minute.

Some people would rather have a personal blog and then making the RP blog as a side-blog. Or a “hub” blog and many side-blogs so they have everything centralized. The downside is that you can’t follow people with side-blogs, only the main – and some rpers are a little suspicious of personal blogs, so if you intend to go this route it might be a good idea to state somewhere in your blog that you have a RP blog.

Tip : It isn’t said too often, but I recommend saving your blog’s e-mail and password somewhere, maybe a flashdrive or even google drive. This way, if something happens you will be able to retrieve your account.

When picking the URL, for a very long time tumblr had problems tagging URLs with a hyphen ( - ). I’m not sure if it has been fixed or if there are still some issues, so I recommend only using letters and maybe numbers. Other than that, pick anything that sounds nice to you!

Themes are nice, but not entirely necessary. Not everybody has photoshop skills and all that. Some people do have commissioned themes, but if you want to try your hand at it my first stop is usually @theme-hunter  or @sheathemes . They reblog many themes from many creators, so there are always many options that might suit your needs.  Some creators offer very newcomer-friendly themes that you can configure a lot of things without much hassle but some might require basic HTML knowledge – a few creators have guides on how to properly set up their themes and are willing to and answer questions, so don’t be afraid to contact them! You can also send me an ask, I’m not a specialist but I can certainly help walk you through the basics.

Tip: @glenthemes have very good themes and a basic installation guide here.

When fiddling with the options, try to pick colors that have nice contrast and are easy to read. If you are bad at picking colors or have problems in finding the code for them, I recommend trying this link. There is also this one that auto-generate palettes.

Tip : If you mess with your theme, remember there is the Theme Recovery.

Tip: If you use Chrome or Firefox you can set up different profiles and associate each with a different blog, so you don’t need to log out from any of your accounts.

There are two pages that I recommend having: one is an about your muse. If they are an OC, it is always a good idea to have at least some information out there to make things easier. If they are from a canon source, not everybody is familiar with the material so it might be a good idea to state. For example, if you are going to roleplay as Altria/Arturia, it is a good idea to have a “RP blog for Saber (Altria Pendragon) from FGO/FSN “ somewhere visible. The other page that is a good idea having is a rules/guidelines page. This one can be a little intimidating, but it is usually a way to communicate important things. For example: are you comfortable writing violence? Do you have any personal triggers? There is something you absolutely won’t write? There are things you may figure out along the way and it is absolutely ok to fine-tune this session every now and then. Some people also credit source for their icons and graphics in general in their rule/guideline page.

If you are using the tumblr default themes, when you create a new page you can turn on the option to show a link to the page. If you are using a custom theme, most of the time you will have to link it manually.

Oh, and if you are planning to do a multimuse, it might be a good idea to list which muses you have. The same goes for a hub blog; list the muses and link to the pages.

Icons aren’t necessary but are considered commonplace. You can find some icons I’ve done here but there are plenty of other sources. If you want to do your own icons, keep in mind to don’t make them too big, as a courtesy to your mutuals.

Tip: Anything larger than 300 pixels will be stretched to fit the post. As of today ( 4/29/2021 ) the posts are currently 540 pixels wide. This can be useful as making banners for your blog.

Tumblr allow users to “pin” posts. This mean that they will always visible if you access your blog, even on dash/mobile. You can use this to set up a post with basic links for mobile users or something else. For example, if you are out on vacations and won’t be able to do replies, you can pin a hiatus notice and then remove the pin once you are back.

2.       Introducing yourself

Time to officially join the fun! (insert a “Hi, Zuko here” joke) Don’t worry if you don’t have a fancy promo graphic or anything, most people make their initial introduction with a simple post.

(as you can see, I’m not very good at saying ‘hi’)

Try to introduce yourself in a few lines, but make sure to state which muse you RP as. Some people also like adding their pen name/alias and establishing a brand. Follow as many people as you want that reblogged or liked your post, and tumblr is going to start recommending other blogs that are related to the tags you use normally or have any relation to the people you follow. You can put as many tags as you want, but tumblr will disregard more than 6 tags in their system. Try tags like “<fandom> rp” and “<fandom> roleplay” along with the media, such as “movie” “video game”, “anime” and so on.

It might also be a good idea to follow a few RP memes blogs. They often have options to break the ice, like one-liners that your mutual can send you.

Tip: Don’t forget to turn on the asks and the anon

3.       Practical advice

Alright, now that you have a few mutuals, it is time to get to some general tips:

Tumblr can be a little “iffy”, and a great quality of life extension for RPers and navigation in general is installing the New Xkit extension. They offer a number of options to enhance your tumblr experience, but the ones I consider essential are the “editable reblogs”, “quick tags” and “blacklist”. Get it for Chrome or Firefox.

As a rule of thumb I recommend writing your RPs using Google Docs before posting or replying. By doing this you can do some spell check and if your browser crashes for any reason you can easily recover your work. You can also use Word, Open Office, or any text editor you feel like.

Because I’m a bit of a perfectionist, I also have Grammarly ( Chrome / Firefox ) installed for an extra layer of spell/grammar check. There is a subscription option, but the free one works perfectly fine.

To make things easier to locate, always tag the URL of your RP partner when doing a reply. There are other useful things you can tag, such as open starters, memes, and such.

Risking being obvious here, but when you are not interacting as your character it might be a good idea to tag as “ooc” or “out of character”.

Some people like making google docs with basic info and other useful stuff for easier access on mobile. It is a recent trend, it might be easier to edit as opposed to going through tumblr page editor and dealing with the HTML.  You can find some templates here and here.

Tumblr’s activity can be unreliable, so don’t be afraid of contacting your partner to see if they have gotten your reply after a few weeks. However, some people also enjoy using the RP Thread Tracker in order to be on top of things. It might be a good idea to check it out.

Because of Tumblr shadowbanning and shenanigans, it isn’t unusual for people to have NSFW sideblogs (sometimes referred as ‘sin blogs’). If you want to write smut, it might be a good idea to consider making one.

Some people don’t like replying to asks, as Tumblr won’t let you remove the initial ask. It has become common to see people making new posts to reply to asks.  This is a simple example:

As you can see, I used the mention to have the RP partner notified then I copied and pasted their question on my post and used the quote to indicate it. You can also have fancy graphics, like a line to separate the contents, just do whatever you feel like with the formatting or keep it simple.

To make sure your partner got the answer, I recommend copying the link to the post and pasting on the ask and then replying it privately.  An example sent to my rp blog:

4.       Basic Etiquette

Ok, this is a little subjective most of the time but here are a few things that are considered universal courtesy.

Never reblog someone else’s headcanons. If you enjoy it, maybe it should politely contact the author and ask if it is ok to write something based on their original idea but you should never downright copy or lift something from another creator. It is considered rude, or even theft in some cases.

Don’t reblog threads you are not involved with. It is ok to leave a like, but never reblog. This is because Tumblr can mess up the notifications and disrupt the flow of the RP.

Don’t copy other people’s graphics. It is very rude and sometimes they commission (aka: paid) for it.

Trim your posts. What does that mean? Every time you reblog with a reply, the post tends to get longer and longer, and it can cluster your and your mutuals’ dashes. This is why the New X-Kit’s “editable reblogs” is an almost must-have tool. If for some reason you can’t install X-Kit (if you are on mobile for example), then remove the previous post or ask your partner to trim for you.

Never take control of your RP partner’s muse. This is called “godmodding” and it is heavily frowned upon. It is ok to control your muse and the possible NPCs that you inserted, but never seize someone else’s character. Likewise, it can also be very upsetting if you use what people call “meta-gaming”, applying knowledge that your muse shouldn’t know about the other. For example, let’s say your RP partner’s muse is a vampire, but they have never disclosed that information to your muse, who also doesn’t have an excuse to know that (for example, being a vampire hunter) so it can be quite jarring sometimes. When in doubt, contact your partner.

This should go without saying, but RPing sexual themes with users under the age of 18 are illegal. It doesn’t matter if the age of consent in your location is lower, once you join Tumblr you are abiding by their user guidelines and the law of the state they are located in. If you are an adult, don’t engage minors with these topics, maybe a fade to black would be a better option. If you are a minor, don’t insist or you might cause a lot of legal problems for others.

Try to tag anything triggering. Violence, gore, NSFW. Both Tumblr and the New Xkit have options to block keywords.

When picking PSDs or graphics for your blog, you should avoid templates that change the color of the skin of POCs muses and try to pick the right race/ethnicity of the muse you are going to RP as. I won’t go through a lot of details, as it is a rather lengthy subject in an already lengthy conversation but keep this in the back of your mind.

Some RPers don’t like when you reblog memes from them without sending anything. Try to always reblog from a source or to interact with the person you are reblogging from, it can be rather disheartening to be seen as a meme source rather than a RP blog. This isn’t a rule and some people don’t mind, but it is always a good idea to try to do this.

This might be more of a pet peeve of mine than proper etiquette, but it is ok to use small font. What is not ok is use small font + underscript. Some people have disabilities that might make it harder for them to read it, so it might be a good idea to refrain from using it. Maybe if you feel like doing something fancier every now and then, but I wouldn’t recommend making this a habit.

Mun and Muse are different entities. Remember that it isn’t because a muse does something (especially a villain one) that the mun condones something. Never assume anything about the mun, when in doubt talk to them.

Be mindful of your partners and treat them the way you would like to be treated.

As a rule of thumb, always talk to your RP partner. It is only fun as long both of you are enjoying it.

5.       Closing Words

This got longer than I expected.

Despite all of that, don’t be too worried about not being very good at first. I assure you that you will get better with time, so don’t be afraid of experimenting as long you feel comfortable. And don’t be afraid of saying “no” if something bothers you.

My inbox is always open to questions and ideas, so feel free to contact me anytime!

I would also ask my followers: there is advice I missed/overlooked? Anything you would like someone have told you when you first started? Add your thoughts so I can update this.

Happy RPing!

#roleplay advice #roleplay help #rph #rp reference #rp resources

[flipmeforward]

mrs. poindexter (dex/nursey, pg-13)

WARNING: contains marriage proposal. the whole thing is soft af. inspired by this post on instagram. link to ao3.

Derek doesn’t see the actual invite until the night before the event. When he does see it, he’s pretty sure Dex has kept it away from him for fear of him going all Shitty on the institution that is Dex’s new employer, and okay, that’s fair, but it also makes him sort of ... nervous?

“How fancy is this thing?” Derek asks on Monday night. They’re on the couch, as usual, Dex is flipping through TED talks and Derek is laying down with his head in Dex’s lap, reading a book that’s turning out to be increasingly boring and badly written. Dex has one hand tangled in Derek’s hair, absentmindedly scratching his scalp. Derek’s thoughts are drifting.

“Hm?” Dex says.

“This thing on Saturday. How fancy is it? Like, what’s the dress code?”

Dex had told him a few weeks ago that they’d been invited to a function at the university, that they were both free according to their calendars, and that he’d intended to RSVP yes, unless Derek had any objections? Which Derek didn’t. Dex’s had his doctorate for a couple of years now, they’ve attended a fair amount of academic functions and events, Derek is used to them. This is their first one at Columbia, though, so he wants to make sure they follow proper etiquette, to not draw even more attention to the fact that they’re two men. It shouldn’t be an issue, but like, better safe than sorry, in this case.

“Black tie, I guess?” Dex says, frowning down at him. “Why?”

“Yeah, but is it like, strict black tie, don’t even think about wearing pink socks, or is it like, creative black tie?” Derek very much hopes it’s the latter, because Dex looks so good with the forest green tie.

“Babe, I don’t know.”

“Can you check? I just need to know if I need to, like, cut my hair.” He’s growing it out, and it’s already long enough to put in a ponytail.

Dex’s grip on his hair hardens. “Don’t you dare,” a warning in his voice. Derek smirks up at him.

“Chill. I won’t. But just--”

“Yeah, I’ll check.”

Derek is satisfied with that, and returns to his book.

*

On Friday, the night before, Dex has his D&D night, so Derek does his goodnight sweep of the apartment alone; checks that all the windows are closed and locked, all the lights are turned off. He hesitates in the doorway of the office/library/guest/glorified storage room. Dex is not a neat freak by any means, but he does keep his desk immaculate, so when there’s an envelope on it, it’s pretty hard to miss. It looks fancy.

Derek picks it up, and it’s not until his second read that he even catches it.

Dr. and Mrs. William Poindexter

It’s a mistake, Derek knows it, it’s a sloppy copy paste error because they’ve used the same template a million times, but it is also sort of rude. They’re not even married (yet), so the whole thing just feels awfully presumptuous, and Derek understands why this particular invite hasn’t been tacked to the fridge like usual. They will get married. Probably. There’s just been--Dex’s PhD, Derek’s teaching certificate, Derek trying to properly get control over his anxieties, time has just ... passed. But Derek at least lives with the assumption that they will get married. One day.

He puts the envelope back, goes to bed, and doesn’t say anything about it when Dex gets home and crawls into bed next to him.

*

Luckily, the dress code is more creative than formal, and Derek would be ashamed of how much he stares at Dex if he wasn’t so incredibly handsome.

“You have to stop,” Dex mutters under his breath the fifth time he catches Derek staring at him in as many minutes.

“Why? I’m your wife, I’m allowed,” Derek says with a smirk. Dex starts rolling his eyes but stops halfway through the motion and stares sharply at Derek.

“What?”

“You left the invitation on your desk,” Derek says and presses a light kiss to Dex’s cheek, a reassuring I’m not mad about this and won’t make a scene gesture.

“I corrected them when I RSVP’d, and they apologized,” Dex says anyway, eyeing Derek sort of warily.

“Good. Oh, can I read the email? Would Shitty be proud of it?”

“Shitty would be embarrassed about how polite I was, but Shitty isn’t in a queer relationship and doing his first six months at Columbia, so I don’t really care.”

Derek grins at him. “I love you,” he says, aware that he’s probably looking like a lovesick puppy.

“You’re ridiculous,” Dex replies, but gives him a kiss. “Come on, I want you to meet the guys I work with,” he says and takes Derek’s hand and starts guiding him through the room.

“You gonna introduce me as your wife?”

“Yes, because that would make perfect sense after talking about my boyfriend for the past two months,” Dex agrees, rolling his eyes again.

“Oh, so you talk about your boyfriend at work, but not your wife? Rude,” Derek says, just as they arrive in front of a group of people who seem to know Dex. They get a couple of raised eyebrows, and Dex glares at him.

“Derek, these are my coworkers. Guys, this is Derek, the idiot I’m dating.”

“Dating, William, really?” Derek scoffs. “We’ve been living together for ten years, and you haven’t taken me out on a date since my birthday, which was in February. That hardly classifies as dating. Hi,” he adds, addressing the group with a smile.

Dex shakes his head in exasperation, but lets it go. Derek squeezes his hand in thanks.

*

“I wouldn’t mind, you know,” Derek mumbles sleepily when they’re seated on the subway home, hours later. He’s a bit buzzed on wine and champagne, but he’s not drunk. He wants to rest his head on Dex’s shoulder but he’s too tall for that to actually be comfortable, so he settles for leaning close, probably preens a little when Dex slides an arm around his waist.

“Wouldn’t mind what?” Dex asks.

“Being your wife,” Derek says. He feels Dex go completely still against him, and when he turns to look at him, all the leftover amusement from the champagne buzz has left him and he’s staring at Derek with a Very Serious face.

“What?” Dex says, and Derek can’t tell if he’s just confused or if he’s also mad. Derek is wide awake now, at least. He opens his mouth to say something, but he can’t figure out what.

“What?” he settles on, echoing it back.

“I--Derek, are you proposing, on the subway, using the words I wouldn’t mind?”

Derek is about to protest, but then he thinks back, and realizes that he may, in fact, have been proposing. Sort of.

“No?” he tries, anyway. Dex’s only response is a single raised eyebrow. Okay. “But also kind of yes? Sorry?”

Dex sighs, puts his other arm around Derek as well and hugs him, tight. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he says.

“That’s not an answer,” Derek observes. He’s not too worried, though. The situation doesn’t feel like a No.

“You technically didn’t ask a question,” Dex says. He lets Derek go and settles back, one arm still around Derek’s waist. “And besides, if I don’t answer, we can pretend this didn’t happen, and you can get a do-over. I refuse to have C chirp me for this for the rest of our lives.”

“C has zero chirping rights when it comes to proposals,” Derek says indignantly. “He didn’t even propose, Cait found the ring in his fucking sock drawer!”

“Do you even have a ring?” Dex counters, which shuts Derek up, but that’s also partly because they’ve reached their stop and need to get off.

Neither of them says anything until they’re up on the street. It’s cold, and Derek forgot his gloves, so he puts one hand in his coat pocket and grabs Dex’s hand with the other.

“Will,” Derek says after a few seconds, which makes Dex stop. Derek is suddenly extremely nervous, even though he knows, with every logical bone in his brain (whatever), that he has nothing to worry about. “When I get a ring, and ask you for real ... are you gonna say yes?”

Dex tugs him so close that their chests are touching. With the hand not holding Derek’s, he cups his cheek and kisses him, sweetly. “Yes, Derek,” he says, softly, privately. “I’m gonna say yes.”

fin~

#dexnursey #nurseydex #dex x nursey #check please fic #omgcp fic #this is sorta flimsy #pretty cute #was very fun to write #tbh i'm still riding the high of being ABLE to write again #fmf fic

[the-anxiekage]

THE BLACK BULLS IN HIGHSCHOOL

Ok so I found myself thinking "what role would each black bull fit in a very cheesy-typical-american-teenagers-film environment?" and my mind ACTUALLY developed something.

So here it comes, my very first personal and self-made headcanon!

Enjoy!

YAMI: THE DAD- I MEAN, THE TEACHER

He is teaching PE (duh)

All students call me him "coach"

He is actually coaching one of the high schools' teams as well - something like basketball or baseball

It is not even the first team but he refused to coach the first teams and likes to focus on who is left behind because not as talented. Even if everyone consider his boys as loosers he would never give up on coaching them

Since he is the coach the team has actually improved - everyone is surpassing their limits and he is so proud of them

Would give emotional support to the kids that are not comfortable in PE class due to bullying, clumsiness or body immage issues

EVERY student would go to him when they have some kind of issue

He gets real about everything with his students: sex, birth control, sexuality, mental health...

But he would never judge them and would always offer the best support

He actually saved lives because of that

Students would fight for him when other teachers bullshit about his reputation as he doesn't get along with the rest of the staff

He is dad

ASTA: THE SPORT BOY

He is part of a bunch of different teams and clubs, and he rules in every single one of them

However he prioritise American football, he is the starting running back and the team's star

Would already have a bunch of college scholarships if it wasn't for his marks

Like he actually tries so hard but he just can't cope with studying and homeworks

He avoids basketball, he is short and insicure about it (he would be great at basketball too tho)

Very popular and all the girls have a crush on him

But he doesn't have a clue

Doesn't like hanging out with his team mates, most of them are "lads-lads" and bullies

He actually fights them a lot

Lowkey geeky, he loves hanging out with the geeks gang and nerd all they long with them when he doesn't have sports commitments

They would help him improve his scholastic performance because this boi really needs help

BONUS: Asta worships coach Yami like a god and Yami ATTENDS HIS GAMES TO SUPPORT HIM

NOELLE: THE RICH GIRL

Extremely popular due to her family reputation

She is part of the elite group in school, meaning the rich kids gang

She would act very cold and distant as the group's etiquette requires

She is actually extremely sad and bored - those guys are not her friends, she hangs out with them just because she is supposed to, so she feels like she doesn't have any friends at all.

The only person she trusts and vibes with in her group is Mimosa

Has the hugest crush on Asta

The two of them eventually become close and she starts to hang out with him and his friends

Would never confess her feelings tho

Very smart, her marks are top ranking and she is planning to apply to a very expensive and fancy college after grads

Extremely clumsy and insecure when it comes to sports and PE but since she befriended Asta she is getting better at it

Loves reading and is secretly part of the book club, which she considers as her self-care and happy place

CHARMY: THE MASCOTTE

Everyone at school loves her

She is always cheerful plus she is so tiny and cute nobody could even think about not liking her

Not the best marks but she gets along with all teachers very well

Always organising some sort of bake sell to collect foundings for the school

Eats the bullies

Would join Zora in his pranking sessions by time to time but she would always have her way while Zora is getting all the troubles

Started the cooking club at school - there are not a lot of members but they have a very good time

Always brings her own food for lunch - she hates canteen's food

MAGNA AND LUCK: THE TROUBLEMAKERS

Constantly in the detention room after school

Skipping classes is their favourite sport

Always together

Magna is kind of quieter than Luck and most of the time Luck is the one that is providing chaotic energies to the duo

Magna on the other side doesn't do anything to stop him - he is very chaotic himself, just way more self conscious

Magna is slightly better at school than Luck and he would pass him homeworks and notes

Teacher's worse nightmare

But when it comes to Yami they would do their freaking best to impress him

Their uniforms are always messy

They had a makeout session in Magna's room once - it felt good but now they decided to do not talk about it

Just a lot of homoerotic vibes

GAUCHE: THE MISTERY GUY

Always quiet

Doesn't speak to anyone

Kind of rude when you approach him

Only has one friend: Finral

Girls really like him due to his looks and his misterious persona - but he cannot be less bothered

Nobody knows when his birthday is

His marks are really good

Loves history class

Plenty of his little sister's photographs in the inside of his locker door

Has a part time afternoon job in some coffee shop

Only studies at night

One time Finral conviced him to go to a party and he still considers it as the most ridiculous experience he ever had in his life

FINRAL: THE PARTY BOY

Cute as hell

Super bubbly personality, always cheerful

He studies the bare minimum and survives by being extra nice to teachers in order to get higher marks

Somehow this technique fails when the teacher is male

Befriended Gauche (nobody knows how) but his bestfriend is Vanessa

Had sex with half of the school

Girls would cry in the bathroom for him

He is actually very insecure and scared of commitment but the only person he would talk about it with is Vanessa

He is the CEO of public relations at school and in charge of all the social events

Lying drunk on the grass in front of the school after a ball with Vanessa while looking at the sky and talking nosense is one of his best high-school memories

VANESSA: THE PARTY GIRL

She is older than anyone else as she had to skip a couple of school years due to her difficult past

Only student that lives by herself

If Finral is in charge of social events at school, she is the queen of throwing private parties and her place

Attended class in hungover or still drunk a lot of times

However she menages to get good marks and invests time in studying and doing homeworks

Would like to attend college but thinks she is too stupid for that

FINRAL WOULD FLIP EVERYTIME SHE DARES TO SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT ABOUT HERSELF

Boy crushes on her a lot but she is into older men

She goes to Yami's office everytime she has a mental breakdown due to her past traumas, she knows he would help her a lot - Finral and Yami are the only people who ever saw her cry tho

Wears her uniform in a very sexy way - and teachers disapprove that

Younger girls always go to her for beauty and dating advices

Bonus: Finral and Vanessa are like brother and sister and never ever had any type of sexual interaction - but nobody believes that.

ZORA: THE PRANK GEEK

Extremely smart, loves sciences

But his reputation among teaching staff is completely ruined due to his constant pranks

Like this guy could prank the principal himself and don't even care about it

He is actually planning to

Best detention pall with Magna and Luck

His tie is always undone

All the bad girls absolutely love him

Apart from playing pranks he is a big fat geek - he loves video games and often spends the weekends with Asta and the other geeks playing PlayStation all night long

Attends Charmy's cooking club quite often

Would skip classes just for the hell of it

Never attended a party

GORDON AND NERO: THE GOTH DUO (ALSO GEEKS)

Bestfriends, everyone thinks they are dating but they just vibe

Extremely good marks, they rule is chemistry class

They always pair up for projects and there is no competition

Very rare to hear them talking unless they are talking to each other

Spend lots of time at the library just being quiet and studying at the same table

Also love hanging out in their rooms listening to music or going to the comics shop

They absolutely love comics

Part of the geeks gang

Nero would spend hours reassuring Gordon after some girl that doesn't deserve him broke his heart

Gordon tries to find Nero a boyfriend at all costs and she doesn't understand why

Never skipping one of Asta's game

GREY: THE SHY GEEK

Absolutely hates PE

She always cries in the changing room before every single class

Yami knows how to reassure her tho

Only comfortable around her group of friends

Very good marks, she would love to study drama after grads

Big teather nerd, she loves the drama club and she is actually very good at it - it is also the only place where her shyness would completely disappear

Also extremely good at RPGs (like D&D)

Loves to organise RPGs sessions at her place with her group of friends

One time at school a guy flirted with her - she ran away and didn't show up for 3 days

She secretly admires Charmy for being so outgoing and sociable

She is also part of other clubs at school like book club and crafting club - these activities really sooth her

Actually enjoys sitting by herself in class if no one of her friends are there

Finds Luck and Magna extremely fun

HENRY: THE FRAGILE GEEK

He has a permission to skip PE due to health conditions - Yami makes sure that he is always included somehow so he won't feel lonely while his classmates are running around

Really good marks but his attendance is not the best

Loves literature class and loves reading

He read "The Lord of The Ring" 40 times

Also loves cinema and takes part to the cinema club

His friends would hang out at his place so he doesn't have to go out too much

when they go out they always make sure he's fine, is hydrated and not getting too tired

Asta would teach him how to throw a football

Always sitting in the first row in class

Would not take any bullies and roast the hell out of them within seconds

Loves to help other students with their homeworks

#black clover headcanons #high school #black clover #students #sorry not sorry #wtf lmao #lmao bye

[bexterbex]

Masking the Heart | Ch. 5

A new galactic war was forming, and your star system needed to create an alliance. Your father, the king, made a deal with the First Order in a promise of protection for guaranteed trade. You are arranged to marry the Commander Kylo Ren, apprentice of the Supreme Leader. A man who is hidden behind his mask. Will your husband show you his heart? Or will it be forever hidden behind a mask?

No tag lists | Masterlist

*Note: The author of this work does not condone arranged marriage practices, domestic abuse, or non-con sexual encounters, this work is for fictional uses only.*

Chapter 5

The next few days were all the same, you got up, got dressed, made yourself breakfast, watched a few First Order videos, made yourself lunch, baked something, made something for you and Kylo for dinner. Or at least you were assuming that he was eating it. Each night you would leave a plate on the counter, he would insist on sex in your room, he would leave, the plate would be gone and in the morning you would find a dirty plate in the sink. You had yet to ask him if he was enjoying your cooking, but you didn’t want to scare him off, things were going well. Or as well as they could be.

You were in the middle of your usual routine when you received a message, only this time it wasn’t from your husband. It was from General Hux.

Princess Ren,

I hope the invitation for dinner is still open as I have availability in my schedule tonight. The Commander seems to also be free as well. If tonight is not available please let me know.

                                                                                             General Armitage Hux

                                      Commanding Officer of the Finalizer and Star Killer Base

You stared at the message for a few moments, before responding.

General Hux,

I will need to ask the Commander first but I have no conflict in my schedule at the moment.

                                                                                                           Princess Ren

Wife to the Apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke and Master of the Knights of Ren

You weren’t even able to send a message to your husband asking for permission before the General responded.

Princess Ren,

I am currently with the Commander now and he has agreed to it. You shall see us both for dinner. I look forward to it.  

                                                                                             General Armitage Hux

                                      Commanding Officer of the Finalizer and Star Killer Base

Upon reading the message your brain went into panic mode, not knowing what to make. It took you a few minutes to calm down and to scroll through your recipes to find something that looked doable and that served four people. Recipes for three were difficult to find, let alone recipes for one. And you got to work immediately. Washing, chopping, dicing, preparing everything you would need. You were slightly worried as this was the first time in a long time that someone else would be eating your food in front of you. Would the General even like what you were preparing? Let alone would your husband? Would he not eat with you like he did when you met him before you married him? Would he keep his mask on the whole time? You chewed your lip as you were finishing up everything.

The chambers had a small dining table, enough to seat four people comfortably, nothing grand. You remembered back to etiquette and set the table accordingly, you might have been a princess, and that you should have servants making and serving your meals for you, but you would be damned if you were to look like a fool now. You wanted to impress not only the General but your husband, Kylo. You wanted to impress him so he accepted you as his wife less reluctantly. You were also desperate for human contact and conversation.

The meal was less than three minutes to being done when the doors to your chambers open. First entered your husband all clad in his usual black, and then the ginger-haired General in his uniform. They were both caught up in a conversation one that seemed to end the moment they noticed you.

Just like the last time the General was in your chambers he was the first to acknowledge your presence, “Good evening Princess. I hope this dinner wasn’t an inconvenience to you. The Commander seemed to infer that it was.” He gave you a small devious grin.

You panicked, you knew you weren’t supposed to go against your husband’s word. He apparently really didn’t quite approve of this dinner but somehow agreed, anyway. So your diplomatic training kicked in, “It is a pleasure to have you eat with us General.” You neither accepted nor denied that the dinner was an inconvenience. You reminded yourself of your mother in that moment whenever one of your father’s guests would stay too long and had to join you for dinner.

You watched as the General’s eyebrows lifted for a moment. You wondered if he was considering your word choice, but before either of you could speak your husband abruptly sat down at the table. If it was anyone else, it would have felt rude, well it still did feel rude but your husband wasn’t known for his kindness.

You invited the General to sit down as you grabbed the warming food from the oven. You served all three of you up and even poured wine. It felt nice and would have been nice if your husband had actually decided to join you but he just sat there. Silent. And you tried to hold a conversation with the General but it was hard when eternal darkness was staring at you in the face.

When dinner was close to wrapping up the General cleared his throat, “I have a proposition for you, your highness. I know dinner may not be the best time to ask this, but seeing as I am already here I may as well ask.”

He was looking for your approval, ignoring your husband entirely as you saw his black mass hunch forward toward the General. But you took the General’s lead and ignored your husband. “Yes, what would you like to ask of me? I would be happy to help serve the First Order.”

You could see a twinkle of mischief in the General’s eye, he was going to ask you something your husband didn’t quite approve of; you knew it. “I believe you could be instrumental in helping the First Order in converting other planets to our cause. Your home star system is well-favored among the galaxy. Fair and honest trade is what you are known for. Of course with the Supreme Leader’s approval, I would like to make you a face of the First Order. This would involve being on posters and recording some speeches that would be broadcasted out. You could help the leery star systems think of us better, just by allowing us to use your image.”

Kylo slammed his fists on the table. “Go to your room.” You flinched in fear, but the General seemed to not react. You wondered how many outbursts he has witnessed from your husband.

But you did as you were told, with tears in your eyes you head to your room. You wanted to ask why he was doing this, why you were being sent away to be punished. What did you do wrong? You sat on your bed, trying desperately to control your emotions, your mask had cracked in front of both of them. You allowed them to see you cry. You broke the mantra ‘Royalty never wears their hearts on their sleeve.’ Why did you allow him to hurt you so? Why did his words get under your skin? Your heart felt heavy.

You could hear an argument outside your door, and then you heard the cutting of durasteel. You could smell the singeing, burning scent. You crawled up on your bed and wrapped your arms around your knees. All you could really think about was steadying your breath, in and out. You could feel the blood rush past your eardrums as you awaited your door to open. You knew he was going to come in here. There was no point in leaving you alone after his outburst. You were just afraid of the repercussions that you were about to face.

The cutting sounds stopped, as did the yelling. It was silent. Or rather you could hear the crushing sounds of impending doom. How could you protect yourself against the most powerful weapon in the galaxy? He technically didn’t need you alive anymore. Sure an heir from your lineage would be nice, but the moment he consummated your vows was the moment the title and position were sealed in his name. You were expendable.

You heard the door open before you lifted your head up to look. He was standing at the foot of the bed. His body imposing and menacing, breathing haggard, fists clenched, staring you down like a prey he had just cornered from across the galaxy. He didn’t lay a finger on you though, but your body was pulled forward violently to the edge of the bed. He was using the Force against you. You tried to struggle, but what could you really do? He was the strongest being in the galaxy, and you were basically a helpless, defenseless little girl. Instead of your skirt being pushed up like normal he tore the dress off of you, your bra came with it. The sound of ripping fabric burned in your mind like the cutting of durasteel.

But just as you were about to brace yourself for a slap, a hit, the yanking of your legs apart, the insertion of his dick there was a beeping sound coming from his pocket. You were both frozen; you were held down with the Force; he was seemingly frozen in the moment, but he reached into his pocket and pulled out the beeping comlink.

He pressed the activate button, and the booming voice filled the room. “Ren, I expect you in the transmission room at once.” It was Snoke.

You watched as he gripped the tiny device in his gloved hand, almost crushing it. He put it back in his pocket, stared at you before he left. You felt the weight of the Force leave you as you heard the doors to your chambers open and shut.

He abandoned you.

You were naked and terrified in your own bed. When would he come back? And if he did, did he expect you to still be naked and waiting for his return? Were you to be compliant with his forceful taking of your body?

You were frozen in the wake of fear of the unknown.

A million thoughts were racing around your mind. What did Snoke want? Did it have anything to do with you? With your approval of being used for the First Order? Or was this something else entirely?

After what seemed like forever you got the courage to at least crawl up to the head of your bed and tuck yourself under the covers. You were hoping he would be angry with you at least covering yourself up with blankets. You felt so exposed even in your own room. Tears failed to fall from your eyes, as you contemplated your future. You couldn’t even fall asleep as fear and adrenaline were still coursing through your veins.

You heard the whooshing sound of the outer chamber door open and boots hitting the ground. This time it was more than just one set as you tried to listen when your door opened. A young brunet male officer and two stormtroopers entered your room. You clutched the sheets to your chest, covering your naked body. The man looked shocked at your condition but spoke nonetheless, “I need you to come with me, Princess. The Supreme Leader would like to speak with you.”

Just like your husband, you couldn’t read the reactions from the stormtroopers through their armor and helmets, but the officer was clearly off-put by your nakedness.

“If you could allow me to change.” You wanted them to leave, to give you a shred of decency and respect.

You could see the pain in the young officer’s eyes as he regretfully told you, “Our orders are to bring you to him in your current condition.”

Your eyes widened in shock. So they were really going to humiliate you by parading you around the ship naked. You were a Princess, not a common whore, but that didn’t seem to matter.

You could see the officer seemed to agree with you. “May cover yourself with the sheets and blankets, I will have the hallways cleared, but you must not get dressed.”

You felt grateful, but why were you grateful for being allowed basic human decency? As you started to pull the sheets off the bed, you heard the officer tell the stormtroopers to turn around. They were allowing you to situate yourself modestly while still in their presence.

You wrapped the sheets tightly around you before telling them, “I am ready.” You tried to build up what little courage you had left to march down the hallways of the Finalizer to go speak to the Supreme Leader in your condition. But as the officer had said, the hallways were cleared for your excursion to the transmission room. It still felt odd, being naked under the sheets and being accompanied by an officer you didn’t know and two stormtroopers. In many ways, it didn’t feel like they were walking with you for your protection, but rather they were forcefully escorting you like a prisoner, all you were really lacking were the cuffs.

When you entered the large main room they did not escort you down to where your husband and the General stood they left you at the door. You could already see the large blueish-gray image of the Supreme Leader looming over them. You marched forward to your death.

I apologize for the lateness of this update. I do live in the state of Minnesota, and the unrest here has been affecting me heavily. I am doing my best for you all but bear with me.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren x you #masking the heart #kylo x you #kylo x reader #star wars #star wars imagine #sw first order imagine #star wars first order

[onlinlegallydispensary90]

How To Buy Medical Marijuana Online Legally From A Dispensary.

It’s perfectly normal to feel nervous the first time you visit a best online dispensary Canada because you don’t know how to buy Marijuana.

Marijuana has been illegal for decades and there’s always been a big stigma attached. Canada residents are now permitted to buy recreational marijuana on top of the medical strains that have been available for over a decade. But, it could take some getting used to.

Don’t worry! We’re here to help make your first time as pleasant as possible. There are a few items you’re required to bring, like cash and a valid ID, but there’s also a shared etiquette to understand before visiting a dispensary. In this article, we’ll explain how to buy weed at a dispensary by discussing what you should bring and the way most customers behave once inside.

What Is a Marijuana Dispensary?

If marijuana is legal now, why can’t you buy it at the drugstore or while grocery shopping? Many states have legalized it over the last five years, but the federal government still considers marijuana illegal.

Current federal laws ban marijuana from being prescribed or filled at pharmacies like CVS or Walgreens. As a result, independent stores called dispensaries were opened to service customers seeking medical or recreational marijuana.

While most dispensaries can serve both kinds of customers — medical and recreational — generally there are differences between the two operations.

A medical dispensary is usually regulated and taxed differently by the state government. It will also look more like a doctor’s office. They’ll ask customers to keep their cannabis recommendation or medical marijuana card on file.

The recreational or “adult-use” dispensary is more laid back. Customers get a menu to choose from and can chat about selections with experienced budtenders. State laws may differ but most dispensaries require customers to be 21 or older.

How to Buy Marijuana: What Should I Bring?

Make sure you’re prepared before visiting a dispensary for the first time.

The Canada Department of Public Health’s Medical Marijuana Identification Card Program is voluntary but is used by many patients and caregivers.

With this card, you save on the overall cost of your purchase, state taxes, and you have access to more potent forms of marijuana. If buying medical marijuana, also bring your physician’s recommendation with you.

As we stated earlier, most dispensaries require you to be 21. You must bring a current and valid ID to even get through the door.

Save some time by doing research ahead of time. Ask friends for recommendations on types of marijuana or read online reviews for the products being sold.

Finally, bring cash with you. Dispensaries can’t process credit or debit cards for cannabis purchases because it’s still considered illegal under federal law.

Since everything is a cash transaction, most dispensaries have extra store security so you don’t have to worry about walking around with a lot of money in your pocket.

What Do They Have at Marijuana Dispensaries?

Marijuana dispensaries are not head-shops or fronts. They’re legitimate businesses with large inventories of high-quality products.

Wondering what to buy at a marijuana dispensary? There are more choices than you ever expected.

Licensed cannabis dispensaries sell dozens of marijuana strains. Purple Kush, for example, helps treat pain and muscle spasms. Sour Diesel gives the user a burst of productive energy.

This is where your physician’s recommendation comes in handy. If they’re recommending a certain strain for anxiety or depression, for example, dispensary staff can help you find it.

Product selections don’t end there.

Next, you’ll decide how you want to consume marijuana once you get home. You can buy the original flower and use it as you please, but you also can get vape cartridges, edibles like pot brownies, pre-rolled joints or blunts, and oil tinctures.

Topicals are growing in popularity as well. Many customers are purchasing marijuana-infused balms, lotions, massage oils, and even bath bombs.

The best part of shopping at a dispensary is the peace of mind you get knowing they offer only high-quality, regulated products. It’s much safer than buying marijuana off the street.

Tips for the Best Dispensary Experience

After a few visits you’ll be a dispensary expert, but in the meantime here are a few tips to make your first experience the best it can be.

Believe it or not, going to a marijuana dispensary in Canada is like visiting an upscale boutique. You want to make sure you know how to act.

Besides having your ID, cash, and relevant paperwork on hand, here are some other ways to behave like a regular:

No phones inside of the dispensary because they don’t want pictures are taken or breaches of confidentiality

Ask your budtender questions because they’ve likely tried every strain in the store

Tip your budtender if they went above and beyond to help you Don’t use products in the store, it’s illegal and rude Have a general idea of what you want before arriving to save everyone time

The most important thing you can do is have an open mind and try to learn as much as possible.

It’s a good idea to start developing a relationship with your budtenders. As they get to know you, they’ll be able to make future recommendations.

[the-end-of-art]

Sewn into his jacket an incoherent note

How to Make Love, Write Poetry, & Believe in God by Nin Andrews

A few weeks ago, I was part of a Hamilton-Kirkland College alumnae poetry reading, and after the reading a woman asked a simple question: “How do you write a poem?” I didn’t have an answer so I suggested a few books by poets like John Hollander, Mary Oliver, and Billy Collins. The woman said she had read books like that, but they didn’t help. She wanted something else, like a genuine operating manual—a step by step explanation.

I, too, love instruction manuals, especially those manuals on how to perform magic: write a poem or know God or make love, if only love were something that could be made. Manuals offer such promise. Yes, you, too, can enter the bee-loud glade and the Promised Land and have an orgasm.

I love the idea that my mind could be programmed like a computer to spit out poems on demand—poems with just the right number of lines, syllables, metaphors, meanings, similes, images . . . And with no clichés, no matter how much I love those Tom, Dick and Harry’s with their lovely wives, as fresh as daisies. I can set them in any novel or town in America, and they will have sex twice a week, always before ten at night, never at the eleventh hour, and it will not take long,time being of the essence.

I love sex manuals, too: those books that suggest our bodies are like cars. If only we could learn to drive them properly, bliss would be a simple matter of inserting a key, mastering the steering wheel, signaling our next moves, knowing the difference between the brakes and the gas pedal, and of course, following the speed limit.

A depressive person by nature, I am also a fan of how-to books on God, faith, happiness, the soul, books that suggest a divine presence is always here. I just need to find it, or wake up to it, or turn off my doubting brain. That even now, my soul is like a bird in a cage. If I could sit still long enough and listen closely, it might rest on my open palm and sing me a song.

God, poetry, sex, they offer brief moments of bliss, glimpses of the ineffable, and occasional insights into that which does not translate easily into daily experience, or loses its magic when explained.

In college, I took classes in religion, philosophy and poetry, and I studied sex in my spare time—my first roommate and I staying up late, pondering the pages of The Joy of Sex. As a freshman, I auditioned my way into an advanced poetry writing class by composing the single decent poem I wrote in my college years. The poem, an ode to cottage cheese, came to me in a flash as a vision nestled on a crisp bed of iceberg lettuce. Does cottage cheese nestle? I don’t know, but the professor kept admiring that poem. He said all my other poems paled by comparison.

This was in the era of the sexual revolution,long before political correctness and the Me-Too movement. My roommate, obsessed with getting laid, said we women should have been given a compass to navigate the sexual landscape. She liked to complain that she’d had only one orgasm in her entire life, and she wanted another. “What if I am a one-orgasm wonder?” she worried. The subject of orgasms kept us awake, night after night.

In religion class, my professor told the famous story about Blaise Pascal who had a vision of God that was so profound, his life seemed dull and meaningless forever afterwards. He never had another vision. But he had sewn into his jacket an incoherent note to remind him of the singular luminous experience.

The next day in religion class, a student stood up and announced that the professor was wrong—about Pascal, God, everything. The student knew this because he was God’s friend. He even knew His first name, and what God was thinking. The professor smiled sadly, put his arm around the student, and led him out of the classroom, down the steps and into the counselor’s office. When the professor returned, he warned us that if we ever thought we knew God, we should check ourselves into a mental institution. Lots of insane people know God intimately.

But, I wondered, what would God (or the transcendent—or whatever word you might choose for it: the muse, love, the orgasm, the soul, the higher self) think of us? For example, what would a muse think of a writer trying, begging, praying to enter the creative flow? All writers know it—that moment when inspiration happens. The incredible high. And the opposite, when words cling to the wall of the mind like sticky notes but never make it onto your tongue or the page.

What would an orgasm think of all the people seeking it so fervently yet considering it dirty, embarrassing, unmentionable? And then lying about it. “Did you have one?” a man might ask. “Yes,” his lover nods. But every orgasm knows it cannot be had. Or possessed. Or sewn into the lining of a coat. No one “has” an orgasm. At least not for long.

What did God think of Martin Luther, calling out to him in terror when a lightning bolt struck near his horse, “Help! I’ll become a monk!” And later, when he sought relief from his chronic constipation and gave birth to the Protestant Reformation on the lavatory—a lavatory you can visit today in Wittenberg, Germany.

I don’t want to evaluate Luther’s source of inspiration. But I do want to ponder the question: How do you write a poem? Is there a way to begin?

I think John Ashbery gave away one secret in his poem, “The Instruction Manual:” that it begins with daydreaming. Imagination. And the revelation that the mind contains its own magical city, its own Guadalajara, complete with a public square and bands and parading couples that you can visit this enchanted town for a limited time before you must turn your gaze back to the humdrum world.  

But a student of Ashbery’s might cringe at the suggestion that poetry is merely an act of the imagination. In order to master the dance, one must know the steps. And Ashbery was a master. So many of his poems follow a kind of Hegelian progression, traveling from the concrete to the abstract to the absolute. Or what Fichte described as a dialectical movement from thesis to antithesis to synthesis. Fichte also wrote that consciousness itself has no basis in reality. I wonder if Ashbery would have agreed.

In college I wrote an inane paper, comparing Ashbery’s poetry to a form of philosophical gardening in which the poet arranges the concrete, meaning the plants or words, in such an appealing order that they create the abstract, or the beauty, desired. Thus, the reader experiences the absolute, or a sense of wonder at the creation as the whole thing sways in the wind of her mind.

Is there a basis in reality for wonder? Or poetry? I asked. Or are we only admiring illusions, the beautiful illusions the poet has created?  How I loved questions like that. I wanted to follow in the footsteps of Fichte and Hegel and Ashbery and write mystical and incomprehensible books. I complained to my mother that no matter how hard I tried, I could not compose an actual poem or philosophical treatise—I was trying to write treatises, too. “That’s good,” she said. “Poets and philosophers are too much in their heads, and not enough in the world.”

I didn’t argue with her and tell her that not all poets are like Emily Dickinson. Or say that Socrates was put to death for being too much in the world, for angering the public with his Socratic method of challenging social mores, and earning himself the title, “the gadfly of Athens.”  

Instead, I thought, That’s it! If I want to be a poet, I just need to separate my head from the world. Or at least turn off the noise of the world. And seek solitude, as Wordsworth suggested, in order to recollect in tranquility. I imagined myself going on a retreat or living in a cave, studying the shadows on the wall. Letting them speak to me or seduce me or dance with me.

The shadows, I discovered, are not nice guests. Sometimes they kept me awake all night, talking loudly, making rude comments, using all the words I never said aloud. “Hush,” I told them. “No one wants to hear that.” Sometimes they took on the voices of the dead and complained I hadn’t told their stories yet or right. Sometimes they sulked and bossed me about like a maid, asking for a cup of tea, a biscuit, a little brandy, a nap. One nap was never enough. When I obeyed and closed my eyes, they recited the poems I wanted to write down. “You can’t open your eyes until we’re done,” they said, as if poetry were a game of memory, or hide and seek in the mind. Other times they wandered away and down the dirt road of my past, or lay down in the orchard and counted the peaches overhead. Whatever they did or said, I watched and listened.

That’s how I began writing my first real poems. I knew not to disobey the shadows. I knew not toturn my back on them and look towards the light as Plato suggested—Plato who wanted to banish the poets and poetry from his Republic.I knew to not answer the door if the man from Porlock came knocking.

To this day I am grateful for the darkness. For the shadows it creates in my mind. It is thanks to them I have written another book, The Last Orgasm, a book whose title might make people cringe. But isn’t that what shadows do? And much of poetry, too? Dwell on topics we are afraid to look at in the light?

(https://blog.bestamericanpoetry.com/the_best_american_poetry/2020/09/how-to-make-love-write-poetry-believe-in-god-by-nin-andrews.html)

Five prose poems by Nin Andrews (formatting better at http://newflashfiction.com/5-prose-poems-by-nin-andrews/)

Duplicity

after Henri Michaux “Simplicity”

When I was just a young thing, my life was as simple as a sunrise. And as predictable. Day after day I went about doing exactly as I pleased. If I saw a lovely man or women, or beauty in any of its shapes and forms and flavors, well, I simply had to have it. So I did. Just like that. Boom! I didn’t even need a room.

Slowly, I matured. I learned a bit of etiquette.  Manners, I discovered can have promising side effects. I even began carrying a bottle of champagne wherever I went, and a bed. Not that the beds lasted long. I wasn’t the kind to go easy on the alcohol or the furnishings, nor was I interested in sleep. It never ceased to amaze me how quickly men drift off. Women, many of them, kept me going night after night. You know how inspiring  women are.

But then, alas, I grew tired of them as well. I began to envy those folks who curl up into balls each night, their bodies as heavy as tombstones. I tried curling up with them, slowing my breath, entering into their dreams. What dreams! To think I had been missing out all along! That’s when I became a Zen master, at one with the night. Now I teach classes on peace, love, abstinence. At last I have found bliss, I tell my followers. The young, they don’t believe it. But really, I ask you. Would I lie?

The Broken Promise

after Heberto Padilla, “The Promise”

There was a time when I promised to write you a thousand love poems. When I said every day is a poem, and every poem is in love with you. But then the poems rebelled. They became a junta of angry women, impossible to calm or translate, each more vivid, sultry, seductive than the next. Some stayed inside and sulked for weeks, demanding chocolates, separate rooms, maid service. Others wanted to be carted around like queens. Still others took lovers and kept the neighbors up, moaning at all hours of the day and night. One skinny girl (remember her? the one with flame-colored hair?) moved away. She went back to that shack down the road where we first met. At night she lay down in the orchard behind the house and let the dark crawl over her arms and legs. In the end even her dreams turned to ash and blew away in a sudden gust of wind.

Little Big Man

after Russell Edson “Sleep”

There was once an orgasm that could not stop shrinking. Little big man, his friend called him, watching as he grew smaller and smaller with each passing night, first before making love, then before even the mention of making love, then before even the mention of the mention of making love. Oh, what a pathetic little thing he was.

One night he tried reading, Think and Grow Big, but it only caused him to shrink further inside himself. Oh, to grow large and tall as I once was, he sighed. What he needed, he knew, was a trainer with a whip and chains. Someone to teach him to jump through hoops and swing from a trapeze and swallow fire until he blazed ever higher into the night. Yes, he shuddered. Yes! as he imagined it. A tiny wisp of smoke escaped his lips.

Questions to Determine if You Are Washed Up

after Charles Baudelaire, “Get Drunk!”

Do you feel washed up lost, all alone? Do you fear that time is passing you by like a train for which you have no ticket, no seat? That you have lived too long in the solitude of your room and empty mind,  that now you are but a slave of sorrow? Or is it regret? Do you no longer taste the wine of life on your lips, tongue, throat? Is there not even even a chance of intoxication? Bliss? No poetry or song above or below the hips? No love in the wind, the waves, in every  or any fleeting and floating thing? No castles in your air? No pearls in your oysters? Are you wearing a pair of drawstring pants?

Remembering Her

after Herberto Padilla

This is the house where she first met you. This is the room where she first said your name as if it were a song.  This is the table where she undressed you, stripping away your petals, leaves, your filmy white roots and sorrows. And there on the floor is the stone you picked up each morning, the stone you clung to night after night. Sometimes she kicked it aside. Sometimes she placed in on the sill and blew it out the window as her presence filled you like a glow, and you thought for an instant, I, too, can fly.

#Nin Andrews #poem #poet #poetry

[13-reasons-ideas]

Finding Peace In Another Part 19

A/N: T/W: Discussion of drug addiction and dating violence. This chapter is coming out a few days early and I’m sorry for the delay, I've been really busy with school. I hope everyone is coping well with the virus and isn't going to stir crazy. Also note that this is a work of free fiction and as such I’m not sticking to exact US immigration protocol. Much love!

A few weeks after my dinner with Scott, things were going well. His suspicions were quelled, Monty and I were good and there were no lingering issues with me hanging out with Scott. Since things had calmed down some, I decided to partake in my new favourite pastime. Recently I started surprising Justin at Monet’s after his shifts.

“Hey Justin, can I get peach tea and a raspberry scone please?”

“Coming right up. Usual table?”

“Depends, do you have leftovers?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see. I’m beginning to think you’re only using me for a baked good fix.”

“Maybe. I do bake as a hobby though, so its definitely more that I like you.”

He laughed as I took my drink and wandered over to the table. I people watched while he finished his shift.

“So, how are things with you?” I asked, casually after he sat down.

“You know, things are going. Clay is kind of oblivious to things, mom and dad are trying to judge what they should and shouldn’t push me on. The usual stuff. You?”

“Yeah. Things are going with me too. Dad still occasionally pops in town for a few days before going to wherever he needs to again. Still acts like I don’t essentially live on my own. I think he’s going to be in town for like two weeks sometime soon so that will be interesting.”

“Oh?” He asked, surprised. “Interesting how?”

I had to be careful how I answered. Man, this hiding our relationship thing is getting hard. “Well, he could decide to actually parent me. I’m an adult though so that could cause problems. May end up being a very silent couple of weeks.”

“Sounds like a trip.” He said, laughing.

“Justin. The last time he was home for any length of time, he told me to go look for a job.”

“Uh, why?”

“I have no idea. I can’t even legally work here. Dad’s work did something with the paperwork or something because I am still in high school. I literally can’t work, even if I wanted to.”

“I know. That makes no sense. Could tell him to send you home really.” He said, jokingly. There was a skepticalness to his tone that seemed to indicate he was nervous for my answer.

“What? No. I have finally finished settling in and have begun to think of Evergreen County as my second home. Alberta will always be my home, but that doesn’t mean I want to move back. I still don’t understand your reluctance for universal healthcare but that’s fine. Technically it hasn’t been long enough to be removed from Alberta Healthcare, but I’m not about to go to the trouble of going all the way home to deal with something that can be dealt with here. Dad haggled and made them give him really good insurance to move here and give up the free healthcare.”

“Okay good. Because we like you and don’t want you to leave.”

We talked about some school stuff for a while before I noticed him start to seem a little restless. I knew about his addiction issues and we talked about it often. “Hey, you still with me Justin?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sorry what were we talking about?”

“Math test, but that’s not important. How are you doing right now?” I asked, subtly referencing the possible cause of his restlessness.

He sighed before answering, “I’m doing okay I guess.”

“Do you want to talk about it? We can go for a walk if you’re not comfortable talking here.”

After a moment he nodded. I got up and went to order us two coffees to go while he waited, trying to organize his thoughts.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s go. Your usual?”

I rolled my eyes at him. Obviously.

We left the shop and wandered around a bit before he broke the silence. “It’s just harder than I expected it to be. Even with going to meetings, it’s hard to manage sometimes.”

“I get it. Have you talked to your sponsor at all?”

“I call him every afternoon to check in but that doesn’t mean it’s not hard. And I want to talk to Jess about it, but I don’t want to scare her or push her away. And I want to talk to mom and dad about it but I don’t want them to be mad or….”

“Or what Justin?”

“Or kick me out or something? I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t happen, but I hear you and I understand what you mean.” We sat on a park bench and people watched for a while. “You should tell Jess. Trust me when I tell you she is probably going to figure something out sooner or later.”

He looked at me in surprise, “You…?”

“No, not me. My ex-boyfriend was a prescription drug addict. Percocet was his drug of choice. He was in quasi-recovery, still drank and smoked weed so not actually trying stay sober, when we started dating. It wasn’t pills though so I wasn’t going to push the issue. But as time went on, he started using again and tried to hide it from me. It wasn’t that hard to figure it out. Things got… bad towards the end. Not that you would ever… just. I knew.”

“Oh. I-I didn’t know. Are you like, okay?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t that bad. If we stayed together it would have been worse, but thankfully we ended up breaking up after he went on a bender and I said enough was enough. But we aren’t talking about me, we are talking about you.”

“Do you think she would understand?”

“I think so. It might be hard at first, but I think she will. And she needs to hear it from you, not figure it out on her own like I did or be told by someone else. That will make it easier.”

“And my parents?”

“If you want, I can go with you to talk to them.”

“I think that would be good, yeah.”

“What do you want to do Justin?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do you need? Do you need to go to more meetings? Do you need someone to take you to meetings? Do you need to consider going to rehab? What do you need?”

“I don’t know. I know I need help. I just don’t know where to start. Why?”

“Because I want to help you. You’re my friend. And your parents will ask, so maybe thinking about it before you talk to them would be helpful. If not though, I understand. And if you need anything, just call me. Okay? Day or night.”

“Okay, I will. Thanks Becca.”

We chatted randomly for a while again before calling it a night and parting ways.

The next day went smoothly as well. At least until lunch that is. The guys were goofing off as usual and since Scott had seemed to quell his suspicions at least for now, Monty and I didn’t have to walk on eggshells as much around him anymore. Bailey called me about halfway through lunch. It wasn’t unusual for him to call me in the middle of the day, given he had a spare after lunch, but he didn’t usually call and then text and then call again. Odd. I hope everything is okay….

“Someone’s popular? Hot date you forgot about tonight Becca?” Garrison joked. I wasn’t looking at Monty but I knew his eye twitched ever so slightly, as it did whenever someone made a comment like that.

“Uh, yeah sure. Whatever Garrison.” I said, distracted as my phone began to ring again. Something is going on. I answered it at the table rude I know, but I don’t think a bunch of teenage boys care much about table etiquette. “Hey Bailey, what’s up?” I asked.

“Hey so I didn’t want to get involved or get you involved since you aren’t here to defend yourself, but I feel like you need to know. And it’s my problem because you’re my best friend.”

“Need to know what?” I put my hand up to quiet the boys down a bit.

“James has been… saying stuff. About you. And your relationship.”

“Uh okay? Why is that a problem?”

“Because of what he has been saying and what it involves regarding your relationship.”

“What has he been saying Bailey?” I felt my cheeks begin to warm and Monty and Zach’s eyes on me.

“He’s been telling our friends uh… intimate details about your erm… private relationship.”

I laughed in disbelief. That little prick. I took a deep breath to centre myself, though it did little to quell my growing anger. The table grew silent as I started to vibrate, “well Bailey. You tell James that if he keeps running his damn mouth, I will get on the next plane home, find him, and shove my foot so far up his ass he will taste it.” I heard Bryce let out a laugh and glared at him threateningly.

“Okay. Is it wrong that I would pay to watch that? Because that would be great.”

“Bailey.”

“Sorry, just trying to break the tension.”

“Has the little slime ball been saying anything else?”

“I mean, he complains about the end of your relationship, which I don’t like but that’s not unusual.”

“Remind him that I kept my mouth shut about a lot of shit he did, to protect him. And remind him about the little agreement we made when we broke up. I may not live there anymore, but my phone plan has international calling and I am on very good terms with the school resource officer.”

“What agreement Rebecca?”

“The agreement that keeps his dumb ass out of jail for various things that I cannot talk about right now. And certainly not with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t have money to bail you out of jail and the exchange rate is terrible right now. That’s why.”

“O-okay then. Talk later?”

“Yeah, I might call tonight but if not, later this week. Depends on my plans for the evening.” I heard a bell on the other end of the line.

“Gotta run, love you Becky.”

“Love you too Bear.”

When I looked up, the table was staring at me, slack jawed. Scott looked the least surprised out of the group, considering he had a little more insight than everyone else regarding my last relationship. “What?”

“What the fuck was that?” Matt asked.

“My ex was talking about shit he shouldn’t have been talking about.”

“Okay we got that much but… what was that?” Zach asked.

“You’re so small. How can such a small person have that kind of anger in them?” Garrison added.

“Could have something to do with people not watching where the hell they walk and stepping on me, or it could have something to do with my tolerance for bullshit getting lower and lower the older I get.”

“But you hang out with us. So, I don’t see how that is possible? That was kind of hot though.” Scott asked.

“No offence, but I’ve met second graders who exude more bullshit than you guys do all put together. Well if I knew that’s all it would take to turn you on Scott, I would have told Bailey to call me during lunch a long time ago.”

“Okay, that’s fair. Hurtful but fair. What can I say, it’s the simple things. Are you going to eat your apple?”

“Depends Scotty. Are you going to take it anyway?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Uh huh. Since I don’t get a choice anymore, knock yourself out.” I chucked my apple at him, half hoping he would miss. He never did.

Zach and Monty shared a look. Still haven’t grasped subtlety yet I see. “Do you want my carrot sticks Monty? I’m not very hungry.”

“Why?”

“Big breakfast.”

“Right. Sure, not one to say no to free food. Even if they are someone’s leftovers.”

“They aren’t leftovers you meatball. I cut them this morning. I had green beans last night.”

“Do you eat other vegetables Becks?” Monty asked, teasingly, taking a bite of the stick.

“Dude, chew your fucking food.” Bryce chided.

“Why? What is this? Interrogate Rebecca day or something? Eat your damn carrot sticks.”

There was a beat of silence, where the boys sat with perplexed looks on their faces. Zach, bless him, jumped in with some game related question that I tuned out as it went over my head. I’m dating a sports player. I never said I understood any of it. The heat seemed to be off of us again, though I could feel Scott glancing my way every now and then while I tried to brush up on some geometry before math class.

I had full intentions to lessen Scott’s once again raised suspicions, so instead of waiting for Montgomery a minute or two after the lunch bell as usual, I merely waived goodbye to my friends and ran to math. I was the first one there so I pulled out the book I was reading between classes.

“Good book?” Cyrus asked, startling me as he sat down.

“God! You scared me. Yeah, I have read it a few times though.”

“Cool. Did you want to come hang out tonight? Mack is going to Chad’s place to talk boys or something.”

“Maybe, I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“Dad is making baked ziti for dinner. You can have a corner piece.” He bribed.

“A corner piece of ziti you say? Well in that case, my schedule is clear as day.”

“It’s a plan.”

Mr. Daniels started class a few minutes later. Will geometry ever get easier?

I met Cyrus at my locker after school and yelled a goodbye to my friends, who were having an animated discussion about who would in a fight, someone I had never heard of or some other guy I’ve never heard of. There was a chorus of ‘byes’ and grunts of acknowledgement. We parted ways and met again at his house.

“Hey Andrew.” I greeted his dad.

“Hey kids. How was school?”

“It was school dad. The establishment and crap.”

“I see you had a good day Cyrus.”

“At Liberty? Sure.”

“I had a pretty good day. I told my friend at home to tell my ex where he can stick his opinion. Do you need help with anything?”

“No, that’s okay thanks though Becca.”

“Oh this I need to hear.” Cyrus said, grabbing a Coke from the fridge.

“Pass me a Diet and I’ll tell you.” After opening my drink, I told the father and son the story of the lunch phone call.

His dad raised his brow and muttered something about punk ass little shits who don’t know their cocks from their feet.

“That is awesome dude. You should have told him to Facetime you when he told this James dickwad.”

“That would require me seeing the asshat’s stupid face. So no sadly.”

“Fair point. We are going to my room to do some homework Dad. Call when dinner is ready? I bribed her with a corner piece so save one for her.”

“For sure kids. Have fun.”

With that, we ran off to his room, but we didn’t work on the non-existent homework. Instead, we went through his records and Spotify account and argued about which to play. “Just go to a radio if it’s going to be an issue Cyrus.”

“No no. You’re my guest, you choose.”

“I already chose and you said no.”

“Fine. Defy it is. You’re lucky I like you.”

“Mhmm. Just play the damn album Cy.”

He laughed as he hit play and the sounds of Of Mice & Men filled the room.

“You better not have been lying about the corner piece man.”

“Lie to you about dad’s cooking? I would never.”

“Right. And I’m the Queen of England.”

We joked around for a while before dinner. Andrew called us down later and as promised, I had my crispy corner slice of ziti.

“Thank God it’s Friday. I want this week to be over. Thank you for dinner again.”

“Everything okay Becca? It’s no problem.” Andrew asked.

“Yeah, it’s just been busy. Lots of assignments and stuff.” Too much work and not enough boyfriend time.

“Well you have the weekend to relax at least.” Cyrus pointed out, waving his fork.

“If you don’t stop that, you’ll poke your eye out one of these days. Are you going to the game next Saturday, Cyrus?” “Maybe. Not really my scene.”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun. We can not care about the sport together. It’s high school. You only go once.”

“Fine, but you are buying me popcorn.”

“Deal.” I said and shook his hand.

Andrew made sure to send me home with leftovers and a standing invitation to come for dinner any time at the end of the night.

#monty imagine #monty x reader #montgomery de la cruz x oc #montgomery de la cruz #montgomery de la cruz imagine #montgomery de la cruz x reader #monty de la cruz #monty x oc #Justin Foley #justin foley jensen #Bryce Walker #trigger warning #cyrus 13rw #scott reed #zach dempsey #FEEDBACK PLEASE

[ineffably-good]

Too Close For Comfort

Just a little piece of fluff and nonsense inspired by this tumblr post the other day...

Enjoy!

Read this on AO3

It had been a perfectly ordinary Tuesday morning, Crowley thought. He’d slept in quite late, misted and shouted at the plants, and made and downed a total of seven espressos with his nifty new kitchen toy, a shiny espresso maker that somehow never needed to be plugged in or washed. He was just downing the seventh one, standing up at the kitchen counter in the way of true Italians, when there was a sudden shimmer in the air behind him and everything went haywire.

“You got DISCORPORATED?” Crowley thundered at the shimmering, misty shape behind him that still somehow managed to retain the distinct appearance of wearing a bowtie. “How in the everliving fuck did you get yourself discorporated??”

The mist that was Aziraphale couldn’t blush, of course, but it nonetheless managed to communicate the sensation that it was blushing. “I stepped in front of a bus.”

“You stepped in front of a bus,” Crowley repeated, deadpan. “And why was that?”

“Well obviously because I was distracted!”

“You were distracted!” Crowley scrubbed a hand over his face and hair, messing it up wildly. “Oh, fine, you were DISTRACTED. There’s just the small problem with the fact that Heaven isn’t likely to give you another body, you realize. They’re not particularly cooperative about these things now that we’re on our own side!”

Mist-Aziraphale made a shushing gesture and Crowley, never having been shushed by a noncorporeal being before, found himself quieting down just at the novelty of it.

“I know, my dear, I know,” Aziraphale said. “But I have a plan. Just calm down and listen to me for a moment, please? You can yell at me later.”

“Oh I WILL,” Crowley threatened, looking grim. He plopped down on a kitchen stool and folded his arms over his chest. “Start talking.”

 --

“I don’t know whether that plan is brilliant or stupid,” Crowley groused.

“In that case,” the mist said primly, “let’s go with brilliant. It will work, Crowley, I know it will.”

Crowley frowned and considered making himself an eighth espresso just to gain some thinking time, but he discarded the notion. His nerves were on edge enough.

“So you want to merge with me,” he said. “Angel and demonic in one corporeal shell. How do you know we won’t both explode? We couldn’t do it the last time you were floating around like this.”

“Well yes,” said the mist, “but we weren’t together back then. I think it’s safe to say that we have both gotten our corporeal selves much more used to each other’s essences now. I don’t think my presence will harm you at all. And if it seems to, I will back out quick as a snap. No harm done.”

“It’s not like you have much of another option, I suppose,” Crowley said, resigned to his fate. “All right, let’s give it a try.”

He braced himself on the kitchen counter and waited. And waited. And waited.

“Anytime now, angel,” he snipped, looking up. “What’s the hold up?”

“Oh,” dithered the misty shape. “I just feel… like I’m imposing on you. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Crowley rolled his eyes, hard. “Just get on with it.”

Mist-Aziraphale took a deep breath, managed to somehow look apologetic, and flowed into him.

No one combusted.

It was, Crowley thought, a positive sign.

 --

It was an unusual thing to be inhabiting a body with one’s boyfriend, thought Aziraphale. He had thought that he knew every inch of Crowley’s body rather intimately at this point, after over a year of dating and even once swapping bodies completely, but he found it was rather a different thing to be locked inside someone’s body while they were still in it. He found himself feeling unexpectedly shy, and rather unsure of the etiquette of the whole thing.

For example, when one wanted to take a turn using the vocal cords, did one just – do so? Or did one clear their throat politely first?

He decided to try the throat clearing trick. “Ahem,” he said politely. Crowley instinctively fought the sensation at first, then relaxed when he realized it was Aziraphale trying to speak. “I wonder, might we make a cup of tea? It’s rather… jittery in here.”

“Sure, angel, whatever you want.” Crowley headed for the kitchen and began filling a kettle.

“Ahem,” the other voice inside him said again. “Would you mind terribly if – that is to say – oh dear, this is complicated to manuever…”

Crowley turned off the water and put the kettle down. “You want to make the tea, don’t you.”

“Well, I do make it better than you do,” Aziraphale said politely. “Could I perhaps drive the body for just a moment?”

Crowley sighed and did his best to relax. “I suppose?”

Aziraphale manuevered around and happily took over the demon’s brainstem to control his physical movements; there were an uncomfortable few moments not unlike when you are changing gears in a strange car for the first time, but then everything proceeded smoothly as Crowley sat back inside his own head and watched Aziraphale put together the tea in the same fussy way he always did.

When the water had boiled and the bone china cup had been appropriately warmed before being filled with just the right amount of tea with just the appropriate dash of sugar and a saucer had been found and both had been carried to the living room and the angel-driving-the-demon had finally been seated and taken his first indulgent sip and let out a contented sigh, Crowley finally nudged at him to relinquish control of the steering wheel, so to speak, which the angel did immediately.

“Great,” Crowley said, back in control of the vocal cords. “Let’s move this into the office – I need to get on the computer.” Without waiting for Aziraphale to agree, he picked up the cup and saucer and sauntered them both into the other room, where he sprawled down in the chair and opened his laptop.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale complained, “I wanted to actually drink the tea.”

Crowley sighed and picked up the cup in a rather big hurry and took a huge gulp.

“That’s hardly the way to enjoy it, my dear,” Aziraphale said.

“Is that a pout?” Crowley said. “I absolutely refuse to let you make me pout, angel.”

He felt the angel sigh and release his control over the mouth muscles. “Very well,” he said primly. “Just give me a drink every now and then while you’re using the arms, ok?”

“They’re not ‘the’ arms,” Crowley reminded him, “they’re ‘my’ arms. And you are a guest in there.”

“I’m well aware, dearest,” Aziraphale said, sounding a little hurt.

Crowley stuffed down a vague sensation of guilt, which he was oddly aware that Aziraphale was well aware of, since they were sharing a brain, and got to work pulling up his infernal email account.

“Let’s get moving on this,” he muttered. “Time to contact the powers that be.”

 --

“I can hear you thinking,” Crowley said as he worked on writing his most threatening email to Michael, the archangel who had already demonstrated a slight moral ambiguity and willingness to play by slightly more shaded rules than the others.

“It’s just that you’re being so rude,” Aziraphale said. “Also you misspelled ‘wanker’ in line seven.”

“I’m being rude on purpose,” Crowley said, “it’s a threatening email.”

“Nonetheless, manners are important,” Aziraphale prodded.

“So, you’d like me to write a polite threatening letter.”

“It can certainly be done,” Aziraphale said. “If you’ll just give me control of the arms for a moment, I can make a few edits for you –”

Crowley shut the laptop lid. “Forget it. I’ll call her instead.”

“Oh well now, that’s a very good idea.”

 --

“Michael!” Crowley said jovially. “How’s tricks?”

“Demon Crowley,” Michael said coolly. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

“Need to talk with you,” Crowley said. “You see, Aziraphale’s been discorporated, and you’re going to help us out with getting him another body.”

“And why on earth would I do that?” Michael asked. “I can’t think of anything that would possibly entice me to get that traitor another body.”

“Well you see,” Crowley said, “Aziraphale has set up shop inside my corporation for the moment.”

Crowley could almost hear Michael wrinkling her nose in distaste. “That sounds unpleasant, but is hardly my concern –”

“No,” Crowley cut in. “It’s quite largely your concern. Because I now have all of the powers of Hell at my disposal, plus all of Aziraphale’s grace. Imagine what I could do with that combination?”

Michael thought for a moment. “That’s preposterous. Such a thing isn’t even possible. Your base matter is incompatible.”

Crowley gave in to the incessant nudging and allowed Aziraphale to take over the vocal cords. “Was incompatible,” Aziraphale said. On screen, Michael blinked as Aziraphale’s voice somehow began emerging from Crowley’s mouth. “We have mingled our essences enough times prior to this, however, that this is no longer the case.”

“I really don’t need to be privy to that type of information,” Michael sighed.

“And you know,” Aziraphale continued, “I can’t really do anything to stop Crowley while he’s –” he stopped and grasped for the right word – “hosting me. I can take control for short periods of time but only if he allows it. And he’s quite right that he has access to all of my powers. And all of my knowledge of heavenly infrastructure. Battle plans and whatnot.”

Michael’s eyes glittered. “You wouldn’t dare let him have full access to your memory banks.”

Crowley nudged Aziraphale and took back control. “He certainly would,” he said, “and even if he didn’t want to, he couldn’t stop me.” He waited while Aziraphale quietly fed him a few alarming bits of information. “Taking a look around right now,” he said airily. “You have exactly 124 battle regiments at present, armed with – what is that Aziraphale? Oh, stop fighting me, you idiot. I’m going to see it anyways – armed with a combination of light and heavy –”

“All right, all right,” Michael shouted, leaning forward anxiously. “What is it you want me to do?”

“You’re going to steal us a corporation,” Crowley said. “The same corporation he’s had, I know you have extras. And you’re going to deliver it to the bookshop.”

“That will take some time,” Michael muttered.

“How long?”

“Forty-eight hours.”

“Fine.” Crowley gave a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Nice doing business with you, Michael.”

--

“Oh, can I drive?” Aziraphale asked as they settled into the driver’s seat of the Bentley.

“Can you –” Crowley sputtered. “Absolutely not! And if you so much as touch a single neuron while I’m driving us over to the bookshop I will wait until you’ve got a body again and then kick your ass. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” sniffed Aziraphale.

 --

 Crowley swung into the bookstore and headed directly for the liquor cabinet.

“I didn’t mean to,” Aziraphale said. “It was just – you almost hit that old woman and her cart!”

“Not my fault she’s out there taking terrible risks, is it?” Crowley said, uncorking a bottle of gin and taking a long swallow.

Aziraphale spluttered. “Oh, must you, my dear? You know I dislike the taste of gin.”

“My tastebuds, my rules,” Crowley said.

On the desk to their left, Frederick awoke from that deep stillness that meant sleep and examined his pointy friend.

WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I’VE BEEN HUNGRY FOR DAYS!

It had been six hours at most. Crowley huffed and went to the freezer for a mousicle. He took one out, popped it in the microwave to thaw, and turned his focus back inward.

“Anyway,” he said. “Don’t change the subject. You took control of the wheel and nearly wrecked us.”

“What was I supposed to do, close my eyes? That would have wrecked us too, since they’re your eyelids.”

“I don’t know,” Crowley sputtered. “just mentally read a book or something.”

“I will try that next time,” Aziraphale said consolingly.

The microwave dinged and Crowley made a disgusted face. “You feed him, angel,” he said.

Aziraphale, feeling agreeable, quickly popped the mouse into Freddy’s cage. “There you are, dear friend,” he said. “So sorry about the wait.”

Frederick reared up his head and examined Crowley closely.

WHY DO YOU SOUND LIKE THE FLUFFY ONE? he shouted.

Crowley took back control. “It’s a long story,” he said. “Suffice it to say that Aziraphale is in here with me for the moment.”

SOUNDS CROWDED, Frederick said doubtfully. DON’T GET ANY BIG IDEAS ABOUT PUTTING ME IN THERE TOO. YOU MIGHT HAVE EATEN YOUR FRIEND, BUT THAT’S ALL YOU GET.

“I didn’t eat him!” Crowley insisted.

LOOKS THAT WAY FROM HERE, SNAKEBIRD.

Crowley sighed and headed for the bottle of gin again.

It was going to be, they both thought in near unison, a long two days.

[evalinkatrineberg]

Bourbon?

A/N: A side RP done with @arin-schreave at some point after the first date.

I hadn’t gone down to the kitchen with the intention of snagging alcohol. Originally, I had grabbed my backpack, heading down to the kitchen intending to grab some snacks, in case I was up late again tonight, reading or studying. Seeing the bottle of tequila on the counter had changed my plans, though. It had been a long time since I had just relaxed, unwound myself, and the thought of having a few drinks to loosen up a bit was too tempting for me to ignore.

I wanted options though, and they had to have more alcohol in this kitchen than just a bottle of tequila. So, I began my search. There were only so many cabinets and cupboard in here. One of them had to contain other types of alcohol.

I had almost run out of cabinets when I found it. I was about to give up, expecting to find cleaning supplies or something similar when I opened the cabinet above the oven. Aha, jackpot! Standing on my toes, I sorted through the bottles, making a note of each label before settling on a lonely bottle of bourbon that had been sitting in the back corner. It had been over a year since I had last had bourbon, when Randall and I had stolen some of our father’s for Randall’s birthday, and it sounded appealing in the moment. After carefully placing it in my bag, alongside the bottle of tequila and some glasses, I made my way over to the fridge, grabbing two limes. Just in case I ended up deciding on the tequila. I wanted to keep my options open.

My phone vibrated in my hand. More messages from my family group chat, going back and forth about what they had thought about today’s Report. I had stopped reading their commentary on the Selection some time ago now. It was frustrating to hear my parents rehash events I had already experienced, but with more incorrect details. Yet, I knew they loved to hear from me. I should send them a short message, at least.

I sighed, my finger hovering over the send button as I re-read my message for the eighteenth time. It didn’t feel like enough - it wasn’t enough. Talking to my family now felt strange, like they were in a different world. I missed them, though. I didn’t talk to them enough recently. I’d been too caught up in my own problems with Arin, and my worries about the Selection that I had completely neglected to ask them how they were doing.

Arin. He was a category of problems in and of himself. I couldn’t figure out what to do about him, and his personality shifts, and his apathy towards everything going on as a whole. I couldn’t figure out why I was still even here! Rumor had it that more girls had been eliminated after the dates, and yet, despite our trainwreck of a date, here I was, walking through the hallways of his home with a backpack full of alcohol. It was so nonsensical that it made my brain hurt, but at the same time, I was deeply grateful he hadn’t sent me home. Not just because I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with the fallout of me leaving to come here, and everything I had missed back there, but also because as much as I hated to admit it, I quite liked the Arin I had seen towards the end of our date. I had been a mess, and he had been an absolute dick leading up to that point, sure, but that last glimpse I’d gotten of who he was had been a look into the kind of person I’d like to get to know better, and the only way I could do that was if I was here.

My phone buzzed in my hand then, commanding my attention. “Mind your manners, Evalin,” my mother had written. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at that a bit. As if I wasn’t trying to keep up with the etiquette required here at mealtimes! I read my siblings’ replies as they came in, smiling at the way they teased me and each other. They didn’t seem to feel the same separation from me that I felt from them. That was good, at least, for them.

The next thing I knew, my face was against somebody's chest, and my phone had slipped out of my hands, coming to a stop on the floor a few feet in front of me. Smooth, Evalin. I should’ve been watching where I was going.

I jerked backwards. “Oh, sorry,” I began, looking up at who it was. Speak of the devil. Of course I would run into Arin, of all people, right now. I let my face go blank as I greeted him, ready to be berated for not paying attention to where I was walking. This day already wasn’t going my way, for the most part, so the chances of the universe gracing me with the presence of Nice Arin seemed slim to none. “Hello, Your Highness.”

He let out a hmph noise, blinking in surprise as I addressed him. There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes before he bent over, scooping my phone off the floor and holding it out towards me. “You dropped this.” Anything I had seen before he spoke had flittered out, leaving his eyes distant, like he was seeing me, but not really. He was here, but his mind was not. That did not bode well for the rest of this interaction.

I knew the feeling, though. I blinked once, looking at my phone in his hand. “Oh, right.” I swiped it out of his hand as quickly as I could, doing my best to make sure our hands weren’t in contact any longer than they had to be. This was already awkward enough without either of us trying. We didn’t need to make it worse.

I wiped the phone screen once on my pant leg before slipping my backpack off one shoulder, sliding my phone into one the mesh side pockets before I put the packback back on, the bottles inside clinking conspicuously the whole time. I supposed I’d have to add, “potential alcoholic,” to the list of assumptions Arin had probably made about me by this point. With a smidgen of apprehension, I cleared my throat. “Thank you.”

He frowned, his eyes darting to my backpack for a brief moment before he nodded. “You’re welcome,” he replied, pausing for a moment as he shoved his hands back into his pockets. “Evalin.”

Oh? I raised an eyebrow at him, a small smile playing at the corners of my lips. “Wow, you do remember by name.” During my reflections about our date, I had come to the conclusion that whatever he had been looking at on his phone while he had been waiting for me to arrive had to be a little briefing on my name, and where our date was. Maybe I had been wrong, though, after all. I let out a little laugh. “Color me surprised!”

I looked him over again, noting how distracted he looked. Surely, the prank Idalia and I had pulled wasn’t the cause for all of this. He must have been having a rough day too, then. I fidgeted with the strap of my backpack, debating if it was worth it to even try and talk to him. My mother still wanted me to apologize to him for being rude during our date, after all, and, while I wasn’t too keen on that idea, I was of the thought that talking things out might give me some form of clarity. It was worth a shot. “So, what brings you around here tonight?”

Besides the fact that he lives here?

He turned his head back in the direction he had come from, blinking a few times before turning back to me. “I guess I was just heading back to my office.”

“Ah.” I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek a little. Of course, it made sense. He must have a lot of work to do. There was no harm in trying, though, right? I gave him a little half smile. “I suppose you’re too busy to join me for some bourbon, then?”

He didn’t strike me as a tequila guy.

“Bourbon?” he asked with a frown. “Were you just going to drink alone?”

When he put it like that, it seemed so much worse. I frowned, looking down at where the tile of the hallway floor met the wall. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

A look of surprise flashed across his face, but he nodded regardless, taking a deep breath. “Any chance I might be the reason?”

Well, that hadn’t been what I expected him to say at all. I winced a bit, then frantically tried to compose myself again. He wasn’t the only reason, just one of many contributing factors to my current stress levels.

“Well, not directly?” Even I wasn’t convinced by my own performance. I shook my head. “I would love to drink not-alone, but if you’re busy…” I let myself trail off, unsure of what

I was even doing. Had I really just invited him to drink with me? My brain must have decided that it was closed after normal business hours. There was no other explanation for what was coming out of my mouth right now.

He tossed one last look over his shoulder, then turned to me and nodded. “Sure, the hell not?”

“Okay!” I smiled, not knowing what else to do. This was rather unexpected, especially given the way he kept looking over his shoulder, as if he was expecting someone to come after him. “Your office still, or someplace more adventurous?”

I decided to change my initial assessment. My brain had not closed after normal business hours. Instead, the less intelligent aspects of myself had taken the Evalin that actually made smart decisions, and had locked her in a cage, leaving her to cringe and rattle the bars of her cell as she watched me ask Arin to take me someplace “more adventurous.”

Arin just shook his head. “Not my office,” he insisted emphatically.

I couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with his office, but I chose not to ask questions, and simply nodded once. “Any thoughts? You know your way around way better than I do.” I know maybe five rooms, and you are not coming to my bedroom.

He motioned over to an alcover a little ways down the hall. “How about there?”

I eyed it for a moment, sizing it up as a multitude of scenarios of how the night could go ran through my mind. The alcove itself didn’t seem threatening, just a little niche with two benches, and it was in a fairly public place, which could be either good or bad, depending on how the rest of the night went. I didn’t have many other options, though. “Thank works,” I relented, a small smile on my face as I made my way over to the alcove.

He trailed behind me, settling in to one of the benches once we reached the alcove. I decided to sit on the other bench, slinging off my backpack and placing it between the two of us. As I unzipped it, I flashed him a grin I usually reserved for one of my siblings before we banded together to make something go our way. The realization of what I was doing didn’t sit well with me. Was I insinuating that Arin was like a brother to me? He couldn’t be further from it, I was sure of at least that much. Arin Schreave confused and frustrated me like nobody else, and it seemed like a good part of why that was was because I had never met anybody quite like him before.

I didn’t know whether or not to be grateful that that was the case.

I kept my grin in place as I pulled out the bottle of bourbon, along with the glasses I had snagged while I was in the kitchen as well. I’d be sure to return them the next day - probably even before breakfast, knowing how early I tended to wake up - and to clean them as well, but I had needed to borrow them for the night. I poured some bourbon in each glass, placing the bottle down beside me before handing one of the glassing to him, holding the other glass up in the air towards him. “Cheers.”

He took his glass and clinked it against mine, taking a long drink before pulling the glass away from his mouth and staring at me for a moment. So we were doing this again, then?

I finished taking a sip, narrowing my eyes slightly at him. “You’re giving me that look again, you know?”

“What look?” His eye darted back to the glass in his hand. Did he seriously not know? I had asked him about  it multiple times on the latter portion of our car ride home from our date. Maybe he had forgotten that. Lord only knows I’d tried to forget that car ride as well.

“The same one you gave me on the car ride home.” I took another sip, wishing I could somehow force myself not to flush with embarrassment as the memory of that date came to mind. “What does it mean?”

“Well, I’m not sure what that look would be,” he answered, reclining against the wall.

“It’s this one,” I replied, attempting to mimic it. What was I doing? I had to look absolutely ridiculous right now. I sighed. A verbal explanation would probably serve me better. “It’s like, instead of resting bitch face, you have pensive bitch face, but with a hint of genuine curiosity.” The moment the words left my mouth, I wished I could take them back. I was pretty sure I had just called Arin Schreave a bitch. I wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this yet.

A small frown formed on his face. “Why are you so concerned about the way I look at you?” He took a big sip of his drink at that. Ah, so he wasn’t expecting to like my answer, then. Interesting.

I shrugged. “Well, nobody’s ever looked at me like that before.” I stared into my own drink, contemplating the likelihood of quantum theory applying at this very moment. It would have been a perfect time for me to just phase through the wall and away from whatever was happening here. Why was I so bad at just having a normal conversation with him? I took another sip.

He shrugged in reply, raising his eyebrows. “Maybe it’s just my face.”

I looked back up at him, narrowing my eyes before shaking my head. “No, you have other expressions. This is just the one I haven’t been able to figure out.” I smirked a bit, adding, “Though, it's not exactly like you’ve been forthcoming.”

It was the truth. He might only be the prince of Illea, but he was the king of deflection. Yet, I still felt a pang of guilt as he took another big drink, followed by a deep breath. “Yeah, well, I’m working on it.”

Well, now I was the asshole. I felt my face turning a burning red, my smirk falling as I averted my gaze. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pressure you, or anything. I…” I just wanted to know if you didn’t want to share anything about yourself with me, specifically. I wanted to know why you do this. I wanted to know if that rough first date was just a fluke. “I didn’t think before speaking.” I took a big sip of bourbon, pulling my knees into my chest and the mumbling, “I’m working on that.” I hoped we were both telling the truth right now, at least.

He frowned. “You apologize a lot.”

“Sorr -” I cut myself off, realizing the stupid mistake I was about to make. Laughing wryly, I corrected myself. “Habit, I guess.”

He raised his eyebrows at me, but said nothing, opting to just take another drink instead.

“We all have bad habits,” I continued, attempting to salvage what little conversation we had going. I gestured with my empty hand as I talked. “It’s like you said before -” I took another sip, relishing in the slight sensation of warmth it left me with “-working on it.”

He simply nodded, taking another sip as well. “So…” he began, immediately trailing off, his eyes focused on some distant point beyond my head, and likely beyond this conversation, it seemed to me. I continued sipping, my eyes taking in our surroundings as I waited for him to continue. It took a while, but eventually, he said, “I’m sorry, by the way.”

I blinked at him, my focus jolting back to him. This was backwards. I drained the remainder of my drink, placing my now empty glass at my side. “About the date?” I shook my head. “Really, don’t worry about it. I’ve, um, been meaning to find you, to thank you for helping with the nosebleed situation.” And for not making me walk home, or complaining if I got any blood on your seats. I felt myself begin to blush again. I only hoped he’d brush it off, blaming it on the effects of alcohol.

He shook his head again, holding up his hand. “No, don’t. I was rude, and you didn’t deserve what happened.”

“I…” Was this happening? I was glad I didn’t have to be the one to suck up my pride and apologize first, but I had been preparing to do so, certain that he would never be the one to apologize first. If this was the kind of magic bourbon worked, I’d have to drink it more often. I poured myself another glass. “I mean, it’s not like you were responsible for everything that happened. It takes two to tango, and all that.” I waved my hand through the air, hoping he’d take the hint and drop the topic. We’d both made mistakes, yes, but it was becoming clearer to me that it was for the better if we both just move on.

He shook his head, downing the rest of his glass. “What happened had nothing to do with you.”

Really, because it kind of feels like it had a lot to do with me, and what you think of me, and why we’re both here.

“Okay.” I passed him the bottle of bourbon, nodding slowly. “I, uh…” Intelligent thought seemed like a fantastical concept at this point in time. “Thank you?” I shook my head, taking another sip. Well, I supposed this was a good a time as any to let him know that I was trying to see where he was coming from, and that I hoped he’d do the same for me. “Can I be honest for a moment?”

He took the bottle from my hand, pouring himself a decent sized glass before glancing back up at me. “Sure,” he answered, handing the bottle back to me.

I placed it down on the bench, positioning it so that it was as equidistant between us a possible. With a deep breath, I began attempting to explain myself. “I really don’t blame you for what happened. I was also in a kind of a funk, I guess you could say. I…” I paused, not wanting to repeat what had happened when I told him he could talk to me on our date, or when I had teased him about not being forthcoming earlier this evening. How to get my point across, when I was terrible with words? “I know what it’s like to be hurt by someone you’re very close to, and what it’s like to have your world turned upside down. So…” I may not have had an engagement broken off, but I had lost my dream job, possibly ruined any chance I may have had of every getting a job I would enjoy, and had found out that two of the people I trusted the most might be rebel sympathizers. It wasn’t as if I could tell him any of that, though, or if it would even be relatable if I could. I shook my head, exhaling heavily. “God, this isn’t coming out right. Forget it.”

He hesitated, his voice soft when he spoke again. “Evalin…”

I shook my head, forcing a smile. It had been a mistake to even try to reason with him. “Forget I brought it up. My bad. I shouldn’t have.” I took a small sip, clearing my throat when I finished. God, what was I thinking?

He opened his mouth slightly, as if he was going to say something, but he shook his head instead, taking another drink before averting his gaze.

I turned back to him again, intent on at least trying to make this right. “Anyway, point is, we both made mistakes on that date, but honestly? It wasn’t the worst date I’ve ever been on.” I laughed a little. I had to find a way to change the topic, and quickly. “And there’s no changing the past now, so we might as well look to the future, right?”

“Evalin,” he said again, looking down at his glass.

I hated the way I kind of wanted to listen to him say my name all day. I hesitated. “Yes?”

He took a deep breath. “We kissed.” The words came out of his mouth in a jumbled rush. Such a simple sentence, and yet, there was so much more to it than just those two words.

I blinked. He didn’t mean us, did he? Sure, our date was bad, but I didn’t think it was traumatic enough for me to have blocked out an entire portion of time during which we apparently kissed. No, clearly I wasn’t in the “we,” then. So who was? One of the other Selected? Based on what I had heard, it seemed unlikely. So Felicity, then. That made sense. Of course they had kissed - they had been engaged. I would hope that Arin had the good sense to kiss her before she had become his fiance.

That actually didn’t make sense, though, I realized. We all knew they had to have kissed at some point. He wouldn’t have said it like it was some kind of dark secret. Unless he meant that he and Felicity had kissed recently. Within the past month, even. I felt my eyes go wide as the realization hit me, my mouth forming into a little, “o” shape. I couldn’t speak. I had no words.

I pursed my lips, trying to remember that Arin, too, was a human who made big mistakes, just like everyone else. Snapping at him, or storming out, would get us nowhere.

“Well, thank you for being honest about that.” I took a big drink, eyeing the bottle out of the corner of my eye. The thought that I might need to down the rest of the bottle to make it through the remainder of this conversation, however long it may be, briefly crossed my mind.

He nodded, taking a big drink as well. At this point, it was evident we were both trying to figure out what the hell to say, and what the hell we had already said. I doubted he’d make the first move, though.

“So,” I began, taking another big sip, “what are you going to do about it? I mean, there’s no excusing it, but how you proceed impacts a lot of people.” I could name sixteen in particular.

“What am I supposed to do?” He gave me a small shrug, looking at me expectantly.

I fought the urge to shudder. Did he expect me to tell him that it was fine? It wasn’t. It was so far from fine, my mind was reeling, working in overdrive to process his words, my emotions, and what the fuck I was supposed to say in response all at once. It wasn’t like I was his therapist, though I was starting to wonder if I should recommend he look into one.

I raised an eyebrow at him, placing my glass down and crossing my arms. “I don’t know. You tell me.” His problem, his solution. It only seemed fair.

He narrowed his eyes as he looked at me. “There’s not much I can do, is there?”

How the hell am I supposed to know? I’ve never even had a real boyfriend before. I shrugged. “That depends on what the kiss meant to you, I suppose. What’s done is done, and there’s no undoing it.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “We can only look to the future, right?”

“And if it meant something?” He took another drink, his eyes never leaving mine.

I held his gaze. “Then why are we here?”

He shrugged. “Because maybe I don’t know what’s good for me.”

I hummed thoughtfully, nodding slightly. That much was crystal-clear. “Sounds like something you should figure out.” I couldn’t understand how or why I managed to keep my voice so light.

He nodded his agreement. “But what do you think about it?”

Why do you want my opinion on this so badly?

I paused, biting my lip. “I think you need to figure out if there’s someone else you actually want to kiss, or if this is all some kind of penance for you.”

He frowned, as if he was considering the concept for the very first time. “Maybe I do,” he said with a nod.

I added both therapist and crisis counselor to my mental list of jobs I should never have. Even with that in mind, I just shrugged, responding, “That’s something only you can decide.”

“I guess I’ll have to think about it.” He set his glass down beside him and leaned forward a little bit.

I could feel my shoulders tensing, and the hairs on the back of my neck begin to rise. We were close enough that I could almost smell his breath. Every other time I had been this close to someone like this, it had ended in kissing. Was he about to kiss me? After he had just admitted to kissing Felicity, too, and that the kiss might have meant something to him as well. What the hell was he thinking?

And why did I kind of hope he tried to kiss me?

I leaned forward a small bit as well, nodding as I agreed, “Mmhm.”

He reached back to pick up his glass, taking another sip and musing, “I’m impressed you found the bourbon. We keep it hidden pretty well.”

Ah, well, that explained why it was in the cabinet above the oven in the kitchen, at least. It made sense if they were trying to hide it, though. Very few people had probably ever thought to look there.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Not hidden well enough, apparently.”

“Well,” he replied with a shrug, “fortunately, that’s not my problem.”

I laughed a little at that, responding without even think about it. “Glad to hear at least one thing around here isn’t.”

Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow at me. “You’ve been hearing things?”

Well, when he put it like that, I supposed I sounded insane. Yet here he was, with me, and a bottle of bourbon. I flashed him a grin. “Hard not to when you’re all anybody talks about, for the most part.”

He took another big drinking, mumbling, “Wonderful,” under his breath. His eyes narrowed.

Well, I had said the wrong thing once again. No surprise there. I reached back for my own drink, taking a sip before putting it back down. I repositioned myself so that my knees were no longer curled into my chest, allowing me to lean forward a little further. “Some of it is.”

“I doubt that very much.”

I would too, if I were him. I wondered how many girls he had wooed with his charm here. My bet was very few. Regardless, my smile grew a fraction of an inch, as I said, “I guess it depends on your definition of wonderful.” The stories the other girls told of their dates, at least, were wonderfully entertaining.

“Well, in this case I can tell you it's most definitely not wonderful.” Any air of amusement he had possessed before was gone now. At least that meant we weren’t going to kiss, I supposed. That’d save me from at least one ethical dilemma tonight.

“Why don’t you work on making amends, then?” I frowned. “You have it in you.” I had seen as much earlier.

“I’ll consider it,” he stated, finishing off his glass. Ah, so one-word, terse, Asshole Arin was back then.

I raised an eyebrow, finishing my own glass and then narrowing my eyes at him, setting the glass down. “Well, that’s a start.”

He cast a longing gaze at the bottle of bourbon before shifting his focus back to me. My eyes met his as I held his stare. I wished I could read minds. It would make all of this so much easier.

“Evalin.” His voice was softer now, little more than a whisper. “What do you want from me?”

“I…” I narrowed my eyes at him slightly. Was this a trap, or a test, of some sort? “What do you mean?”

“What is it you want?” He furrowed his brows slightly.

“I…” I shook my head. I hadn’t really thought about it. I supposed in theory I could take the easy way out - tell him I just wanted money to fund my research, and we could both go our merry ways - but that wasn’t the truth, and I was pretty sure we both knew that. My voice was barely more than a whisper when I tried to answer again. “I would like to get to know you. I -” I swallowed “- I guess I’d like for you to give me a chance, but if that’s not possible right now, or yet, I understand.” I bit my lip, knowing full well I had said too much. Maybe I should’ve just drank alone, after all. I certainly would have gotten myself into less trouble.

He leaned back, bowing out a breath as he ran his fingers through his hair. Fuck, I hadn’t meant to stress him out. I kept myself completely still, awaiting his response.

“And what if I’m not ready?”

I met his eyes again, resting my head on her hands. I knew he wasn’t ready. He wouldn’t have brought up the kiss - hell, he wouldn’t have kissed Felicity - if he was ready to move on. It was good to hear that at least he knew that, too. “Then I can wait. I’m here, unless you send me back to Carolina.” I bit the inside of my cheek, hating the selfish part of me that wanted to beg him not to send me home.

“And everyone else?”

“I don’t know what they want, but we all deserve the same opportunity, Arin.” I thought of all the girls I had met the past month - Indie, Idalia, Clemence, Reggie, Itzel - and smiled. Whether or not any of them realized it, they had all taught me a lot, and I would cherish the time we had gotten to share here. “They really are a great group. The choice is obviously yours, so I guess the question really is, what do you want, Arin?” I was half tempted to pour myself another glass, if for no other reason than just to take a big sip right now.

“A time machine.” His tone was frank as his eyes watch my every movement.

I simply nodded in understanding, my facial expression remaining more or less the same. “Wouldn’t we all,” I sighed a little breathlessly. I would have loved to go back in time, and convince myself not to go see Proctor in the lab the day before I left to come here.

Then again, maybe I wouldn’t be who I was or where I was now if I had not gone to see her.

He narrowed his eyes, and I made the split second decision to take another chance, offering him a sympathetic smile. “I’ve learned, though, that focusing on what you can’t change never gets you anywhere worth being.” I grimaced a bit, adding, “That came out more blunt than I intended.”

“You don’t think I could change this and end it all now?” He gave me a curious look.

I considered it for a moment, inclining my head slightly. “I suppose you could, but the fact is, you haven’t. So, either you can’t end it, for reasons outside of yourself, or some part of you doesn’t want to.” I hoped I was at least somewhat correct, or else I’d be gone for sure. I didn’t want to let him see me sweat it, though, so I shrugged. “I’d warrant a guess that you know the answer to that, too.”

“And if I want to just end it?” He gave me the same look he had given me on that car ride home. “I just do what? Pick one of you at random and call it a day?”

I held my hands up in front of my shoulders in mock surrender. “Personally? I don’t think that would be the best way to end it, especially since you don’t really know any of us yet. It’d make you look pretty hasty, and it doesn’t sound like a recipe for happiness.” I let out a little sigh, giving him a pointed look before adding, “But, ultimately, I suppose it is your call.”

“Well, it seems to me there are no winners here.” He tilted his head a little.

I was beginning to grow tired of this game. “Maybe not yet,” I started, narrowing my eyes at him, “but there could be.”

Initially, he grimaced, but it faded as he started to nod. Perhaps he was growing bored of talking in circles as well. “Maybe.”

I noticed then that it was beginning to get later than I’d liked. Where had the time gone? I sat up straighter, stretching my arms in the air before then looking at him, placing my hands back in her lap and offering him a small smile. “Well, thank you for keeping me company tonight. It was actually pretty nice.” I let out a little laugh, grabbing the bourbon and the cups and placing them back in my backpack.

He looked at me with a quizzical expression, but then said, “Sure .” Nodding once, he stood up.

I followed suit, zipping up my backpack and putting it back on. Angling my head upwards, I gave him one last smile. “Goodnight, Arin.”

“Goodnight,” he echoed, shoving his hands back into his pockets before turning and walking back towards the hall. Once we reached the hallway, I booked it in the opposite direction. I knew exactly where I needed to go, and what I needed to do.

It appeared I owed somebody an apology, for ever doubting her.

#selectionoc #((ik i made evalin and I love her but sometimes she makes me want to scream))

[russellacali]

What is Empowerment Technologies?

This blog, Empowerment Technologies, is an insight into what I have learned on our lessons about Empowerment Technologies: ICT for Professional Tracks, for 11th grade, under the teaching of Miss Shaira Denise Dela Cruz. The goal of this blog is to promote ICT and give you some insight into ICT

The first lesson that was discussed was, what is ICT? ICT is the abbreviation for Information and Communication Technologies. It refers to technologies that provide access to information through telecommunications such as mobile phones, wireless networks, telephones, and other communication mediums. The current state of ICT is WWW or World Wide Web.

The World Wide Web(WWW), commonly known as the Web, is an information system where documents and other web resources are identified by Uniform Resource Locators, which may be interlinked by hypertext, and are accessible over the Internet. It has three versions which are Web 1.0, Web 2.0, and Web 3.0. Web 1.0 is the first version and most web pages were static or “read-only web.” 

The second and most used is Web 2.0, which allows users to interact and contribute with the page instead of just reading a page, the users are able to create a user account. Web 2.0 offers us five features: Folksonomy, Rich User Experience, Long Tail, User Participation, and software as a service.

The last is Web 3.0. Its aim is to have machines understand the user’s preference to be able to deliver web content specifically targeting the user. Web 3.0 hasn’t released yet as it still has some problems. Those problems are compatibility, security, vastness, vagueness, and logic.

Moving on to the next lesson which is all about ‘Online Saftey, security, ethics, and etiquette.’ 

The Internet consists of tens of thousands of interconnected networks run by service providers, individual companies, universities, and governments. It is defined as an information highway, which means anyone can access any information through the internet. That is why the internet is one of the most dangerous places, the reason why it is important how to keep yourself and your personal information safe. Some of the information that is in rick when spoiled on the internet are names of your immediate family, address, phone or home number, birthday, email address, your full name, and your previous and current school. It is important to keep this information top secret as cyber-creeps can use these to find you. 

To keep yourself safe:

Be mindful of what you share online.

Do not just accept terms and conditions, read it.

Keep your passwords to yourself, and make sure your password is long, strong, and unique.

Do not talk or meet up with someone you don’t know.

Never post anything about a future vacation. This can signal some robbers about which date they can come and rob your house. It is better to post about your vacation when you got home already.

Add friends you know in real life, don’t accept someone you barely know or met.

Avoid visiting or downloading anything from an untrusted website, make sure to check the icon beside the search box. *picture* According to DigiCert Blog, “How to Know if a Website is Secure?”, Look at the URL of the website. If it begins with “https” instead of “http” it means the site is secured using an SSL certificate (the s stands for secure). SSL certificates secure all of your data as it is passed from your browser to the website’s server.

Make your home wifi private by adding a password.

Make sure to install and update antivirus software on your computer.

Do not reply or check links from suspicious emails as it can lead you to an untrusted site and can hack your laptop or social media.

To give you more information, here are some of the internet threats that we need to be aware of and try to avoid:

The Malware, stands for malicious software. It includes virus, worm, trojan, spyware, adware, and ransomware. The virus is the most common malware. It is a malicious program designed to replicate itself and transfer from one computer to another (internet, local networks, FDs, CDs,etc.). Worms is a standalone piece of malicious software that reproduces itself and spreads from computer to computer. The trojan is a malicious program that disguises as a useful program but once downloaded or installed, leaves your PC unprotected and allows hackers to get your information. Spyware is defined by Webroot Cybersecurity as "malware used for the purpose of secretly gathering data on an unsuspecting user." It is a program that runs in the background and spies your behavior as you are on your computer. Adware is malware that forces your browser to redirect to web advertisements, which often themselves seek to download further, even more, malicious software. Lastly, Ransomware, also known as scareware. This is a type of malicious software from cryptovirology that threatens to publish the victim’s data or perpetually block access to it unless a ransom is paid.

The Spam, this is any kind of unwanted, unsolicited digital communication, often an email, that gets sent out in bulk.

The Phishing, is a cybercrime in which a target/s are contacted by someone posing as a legitimate institution to lure individuals into providing sensitive data such as personally identifiable information, banking and credit card details, and passwords.

Lastly, before we move to the next lesson it is important to know ‘The Core Rules of Netiquette’ are excerpted from the book Netiquette by Virginia Shea.

First, Remember the Human.When communicating online, practice the Golden rule:  Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. Remember that your written works or messages are read by real people, therefore you should ask yourself, "Would I be okay with this if someone else had written it?" before sending it. 

Second, Adhere to the same standards of behavior online that you follow in real life. It is a must that your best to act within the laws and ethical manners of society whenever you inhabit "cyberspace." Standards of behavior may be different in some areas of cyberspace, but they are not lower than in real life. Be ethical. Don't believe anyone who says, "The only ethics out there are what you can get away with."  

Third, Know where you are in cyberspace. What's perfectly acceptable in one area may be dreadfully rude in another. And because Netiquette is different in different places, it's important to know where you are. Thus the next corollary: Lurk before you leap.

Fourth, Respect other people’s time and bandwidth. Online communication takes time: time to read and time in which to respond. Most people today lead busy lives, just like you do, and don't have time to read or respond to frivolous emails or discussion posts. It's your responsibility to ensure that the time they spend reading your posting isn't wasted.

Fifth, Make yourself look good online. One of the best things about the virtual world is the lack of judgment associated with your physical appearance, the sound of your voice, or the clothes you wear. However, you will be judged by the quality of your writing so keep in mind the following tips: (1)Always check for spelling and grammar errors, (2)  Know what you're talking about and state it clearly

Sixth, Share expert knowledge. The reason for asking questions online works is that a lot of knowledgeable people are reading the questions. And if even a few of them offer intelligent answers, the sum total of world knowledge increases. The Internet itself was founded and grew because scientists wanted to share information. Gradually, the rest of us got in on the act. So do your part. Despite the long lists of no-no's in this book, you do have something to offer. Don't be afraid to share what you know.

Seventh, Help keep flame wars under control. "Flaming" is what people do when they express a strongly held opinion without holding back any emotion.g. While "flaming" is not necessarily forbidden in virtual communication, "flame wars," when two or three people exchange angry posts between one another, must be controlled or the camaraderie of the group could be compromised. Don't feed the flames; extinguish them by guiding the discussion back to a more productive direction.

Eighth, Respect other people’s privacy. Depending on what you are reading in the virtual world, be it an online class discussion forum, Facebook page, or an email, you may be exposed to some private or personal information that needs to be handled with care. Thus, Just as you expect others to respect your privacy, so should you respect the privacy of others. Be sure to err on the side of caution when deciding to discuss or not to discuss virtual communication.

Ninth, Don’t abuse your power. Some people in cyberspace have more power than others. There are wizards in MUDs (multi-user dungeons), experts in every office, and system administrators in every system. Knowing more than others, or having more power than they do, does not give you the right to take advantage of them. For example, sysadmins should never read private emails.

Tenth, Be forgiving of other people’s mistakes. Everyone was a network newbie once. So when someone makes a mistake, whether it's a spelling error or a spelling flame, a stupid question or an unnecessarily long answer, be kind about it. If you do decide to inform someone of a mistake, point it out politely, and preferably by private email rather than in public. Give people the benefit of the doubt; assume they just don't know any better.

The last lesson that was taught to us is ‘Advanced Word Processing Skill’. This lesson focuses on the software word processor the ‘Microsoft Word.’

A Word Processor is an electronic device or computer software application that performs the task of composing, editing, formatting,  and printing of documents.​

Microsoft Word is a word processor developed by  Microsoft and the first released on  October 25, 1983.​ Microsoft Word has features and functions which are not mostly known by others. These are the Auto-Correct, Grammar Checker, Read Aloud, Template, Thesaurus, Mail Merge, and Text Wrap. 

Advance Features of Microsoft Word are discussed. Beginning with the kinds of Materials we can have in Microsoft Word.

The first is Pictures. Generally, these are electronic or digital pictures or photographs you have saved on any local storage device.​ There are three file formats that pictures have which are JPEG or Joint Photographic Expert Group, this can support 16.7 million colors so that it is suitable for use when working with full-color photographic images, GIF or Graphics Interchange Format, this is used for computer-generated images that support animation,  can only support up to 256 colors., lastly, PNG or Portable Network Graphics, this is similar to GIF except it has smaller file size but does not support animation, it can display up to 16 million colors and allows the control of the transparency level or opacity of images.​

The second material is Clip Art. This is generally a GIF type; line art drawings or images used as a generic representation for ideas and objects that you might want to integrate into your document.​

The third is Shapes. These are printable objects or materials that you can integrate in your document to enhance its appearance or to allow you to have some tools to use for composing and representing ideas or messages. The fourth is Smart Art. Generally, these are predefined sets of different shapes grouped together to form ideas that are organizational or structural in nature.

The fifth is Chart. Another type of material that you can integrate into your Word document that allows you to represent data characteristics and trends.

The sixth is Screenshot. Sometimes, creating reports or manuals for training or  procedure will require the integration of a more realistic image of  what you are discussing on your report or manual.

Moving on to the most focused part of the lesson which is the Mail Merge. Mail Merge is a useful tool that allows you to produce multiple letters, labels, envelopes, name tags, and more using information stored in a list, database, or spreadsheet. When these two documents are combined  (merged), each document includes the individual names and addresses you need to send it to. The two components of Mail Merge are the Form Document, this contains the main body of the message we want to convey or send., and the List or Data File, This is where the individual information or data that needs to be plugged in (merged) to our form document is placed and maintained.​

It was demonstrated to us, how to use and make mail merge, and here’s mine:

Before ending this blog, I would like to show you some of my modules for the subject Empowerment Technologies(ETech): ICT for Professional Track.

First, the open forum about the “How can you promote Netiquette?”

Second, an assignment about “Cyberspace:  Share an experience that you have always tend to do but later did you discover that it is not a standard of ONLINE SAFETY, SECURITY, ETHICS, AND ETIQUETTE. “

Third, another open forum about “What is the importance of Microsoft office in your education?”

Lastly is another assignment, making an Infographic: Promoting your specific track/strand. My infographic is a promotion of my strand, STEM or Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics.

Hope you learn a lot from this blog as I learn a lot from my subject teacher for  Empowerment Technologies(ETech): ICT for Professional Track. 

Let this day be filled with success in all the ventures you make today. Have a great day!

Photo Credits:

1

https://curatti.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/11/WWW-Image-1.jpg 

2

https://go4customer.com/articleimages/1581925569Safety_Internet_Day.png 

3 

https://futureofsourcing.com/sites/default/files/articles/internet_attacks.jpg 

4

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/fc/37/e1/fc37e162244d19115d88ab58e07ccc2b.png 

5

https://cdn.guidingtech.com/imager/assets/2019/05/226896/Image-Best-Microsoft-Word-Online-Tips-and-Tricks 2_4d470f76dc99e18ad75087b1b8410ea9.png?1558678050 

#ICT Performance_Task

[ijustwant2write]

The Tattooed Lady-Tommy Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @necromancersatan)

Masterlist

Summary: requested by anonymous: ‘Dommy tommy Shelby, where readers a bad ass, tattooed female who’s also in a gang but much bigger then the peakys. Tommy has to work harder cuz readers a younger and playful woman ?? x’

Characters: Tommy Shelby x Reader, mentions of other Shelby brothers

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of physical/verbal abuse, sexual themes

(A/N: This sort of went in a different direction, but I hope you still like it!)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Everyone had heard of the Peaky Blinders, they knew their crooked ways, their sneaky attacks, how they always somehow got away with everything; how everyone feared getting on the wrong side of them, as it would certainly mean your time had come. However, there was another gang that people feared more, so much that no one even dared whisper their name. The women that made up this gang were ruthless, they hadn’t a care in the world, and a person who has nothing to lose is the most dangerous type of person.

Miss (Y/N) was the leader of the ‘Tattooed Ladies’. A very basic name, but a name that stood out nonetheless. It was compiled of only women, no men were ever allowed (unless they were only to stay the night). They were called ‘miss’ then their first name as they were not going to be forced to be tied down to any man, having their name stripped off them; this and the fact that they were all mostly banished from their families, having casted shame upon the name. Slowly, these bold ladies had found each other, forming a family and business at the same time. As they started opening up about their lives, they realised that in some way, they had been effected by family members and/or men, and because they were female, it meant that they took the blame. Everyone had heard of hit-men, but had anyone heard of hit-women? Not until the Tattooed Ladies.

At first, Tommy Shelby had paid no mind to this gang of women. He had dealt with many others before, and these were women, so why should he be afraid? This was before he was informed that one of his men had been brutally beaten, leaving him unable to work for weeks, as well as losing sight in one eye and a few fingers. These women went against what society had informed them to do, and to show that, they inked their arms with whatever they wanted. This would make them easy to find, hardly any women had tattoos. What he couldn’t work out was why a gang just outside of London would randomly attack one of his own. He hadn’t pissed them off in any way, was this a threat?

John grimaced as him and his older brothers walked through the slums of London. It was dirty, smelly, and the people looked desperate. He knew his upbringing wasn’t the best, but this was downright horrible. It made him think about what these women would look like. He imagined almost pirate looking women; scruffy hair, non-feminine features, maybe one would have a eye patch. They squeezed down an alley way, coming up to an unusually bright red door. Arthur knocked loudly, standing back as they waited for a reply. As the three Shelby’s waited for a burly looking woman to answer, they were pleasantly surprised when a beautiful red head answered.

“Miss (Y/N)?” Tommy asked after clearing his throat.

“No, ain’t me. Guessing you’re the Shelby lot?” She bluntly stated, her cockney accent strong.

“Yes.”

“She’s expecting you.”

John and Arthur glanced at each other as their brother stepped forward, following the red head. The building was an old, abandoned theatre, though it was brightly lit, various types of women lounging around on the plush sofas, as well as the bar. They all stared as they strolled through, the only noise was the soft music playing in the background as well as the creaking of the floor boards. There were different looking women all over the place; different ethnicity's, different builds, different hair. The only thing they had in common were their vast amount of tattoos, and the intense glare they all held. As the red head guided the men up the stage, they laid their eyes on a younger lady, sat at a desk, counting money.

“Thank you Sherry. Here, take everyone’s pay and hand them out.” She handed the rolls of notes to Sherry, but not before she stated,“And make sure to hand it out easily this time.”

Sherry winked, before sauntering off, doing as she was told. Tommy smirked as his eyes went back to the lady at the desk, approaching her slowly.

“Miss (Y/N), it seems you’ve got a good run going here.” He started.

“Mr Shelby, what a pleasure to meet you. I assume you’ve come here about that worker of yours?” She replied, not looking at them, instead focusing her attention on signing forms on her desk.

“Yes. Do you mind if we sit?” he gestured to the non existent chairs in front of them.

“If you would like to pull up your own chairs, be my guest.”

The brothers all shared a look, realising that this woman didn’t take shit from anybody. Tommy wanted to be careful about this, he did not need another war on his hands.

“Look,” (Y/N) set down her pen, leaning back in her chair and finally making eye contact,“I’m sorry about your employee. But it had to be done.”

“Why?”

“Because he hurt one of my girls. A long time ago.”

“What did he do?”

“That’s not my story to tell. He’s lucky that he only got a few injuries.”

“A few injuries? He’s lost his eyesight and three fingers!” John wasn’t sure of this woman, but he felt anger in this moment.

“He lost his sight in one eye.”

John snarled at her, not believing his ears. What angered him more was the lustful look in Tommy’s eyes as he stared at her, scoffing as he realised this was not going to be resolved. 

Tommy walked to the edge of the stage, surveying the place around him.“This is quite an establishment you’re running, miss (Y/N).”

“Thank you. I know it’s not as fancy as your betting store but it’s safe and warm, that’s all that matters.”

“You’ve got quite the reputation too. I just don’t understand why this couldn’t be resolved between us.”

“Because it had nothing to do with you. I understand why you’re pissed off but I was not going to involve anyone else.”

“I would have preferred-”

“I would prefer for my girls and I to not be hassled every day, but here we are.”

“Is that what this feels like?”

She said nothing, rising from her chair and standing in front of Tommy, holding her hands together behind her back. She didn’t need this today, their day had been long enough.

“It would seem that your men have been coming onto our turf since the incident. It has nothing to do-”

“One of their men have been threatened, been attacked, they’re going to want to intimidate you.”

“Have they not heard the stories about us?” one woman shouted out, others laughing or cheering with her.“You Peaky Blinders need to learn that women are not to be messed with.”

“Girls, that’s enough. I’m sure they’re aware of what we’re capable of by now.”

“Yes, which is why I have a proposition for you.” 

“Oh?”

“I’ve seen what you do, you know what I do. We shouldn’t have any bad blood between us.”

“Tommy, she set her gang on one of our men!” John exclaimed.

“Nevertheless, she believes that there was good reason to.”

“She believes that.”

“Yes, but with the Tattooed Ladies increasing, perhaps it’s time we take a step forward and listen to them.”

(Y/N) scoffed.“Oh, how very thoughtful of you.”

“What I mean to say is that times are changing; I’m sure you’re happy about that. I want to end this feud before it even starts.” Tommy held out his hand for her to shake, eyes locked with hers.

(Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest, a sudden idea popping into her head.“Alright Mr Shelby, I have a suggestion.”

He retracted his hand, intrigued.

“I want to come and see how this whole Peaky Blinders business works. See the non-refined side of the Shelby’s. In return I’ll think about a truce.”

“You’ll ‘think about it’?” Arthur piped up.

She faced him.“Yes, depending on how you influence that decision.”

Tommy liked the etiquette to this woman. He liked the surprise of them all being proper ladies, despite the fact that they were brandished with tattoos and had formed a gang, beating up anyone who dared threaten them. It was different, it was dangerous...it was sexy. Tommy held out his hand again, a small smile appearing on his face as she shook it. John’s nostrils flared as he watched the interaction, Arthur staying silent and expressionless, still not knowing what to think of these ladies surrounding him; his Linda would definitely have something to say about it.

A week later, (Y/N) and two of her girls (Sherry and Ruth), found themselves in the middle of Small Heath, taking in the dark, grim atmosphere. They leaned against a house opposite the betting shop, watching as men flooded in and out, some coming back out happy, others infuriated. (Y/N) had never been one for betting, she didn’t want to take the risk, so why would men waste their money endlessly to just lose it all?

A younger looking lad exited the shop, sporting the peaky hat. The women watched as he walked up to them, all of them sharing a knowing look as they saw the intimidation on his face. 

“Uh, you Miss (Y/N)?” he asked.

“Yep. What’s your name?” she asked.

“Finn Shelby.”

“Another one, hm? Guessing your brother sent you out here?”

“Yes. He’s wondering why you’re out here.”

“I guess that was a little rude. Come on ladies, let’s see what they have in store for us.”

Finn lead them inside, not quite believing his eyes when he first saw the Tattooed Ladies. As did all the other men in the shop, no one caring if the women caught them. But this didn’t bother (Y/N) or her girls, because they knew they could take out any one of them in a second. (Y/N) held up a hand to the girls, signalling for them to stay as she headed towards Tommy’s office. Finn opened the door for her, scurrying out as he closed it. Smiling to herself, she wondered if the young man would ever turn out like his brothers.

“Is it as nice on the outside as it is on the inside?” He asked, smoking a cigarette.

(Y/N) sat on the chair opposite his desk, looking up at him.“Yes actually.”

“Why didn’t you come in straight away? We were waiting.”

“Wanted to check out the place, get a feel for everything.”

“I see you brought company. Were all those women in London part of your gang?”

“No, there’s more us of, more than you actually.” she stood back up again, inspecting the room as she walked around.

Tommy watched her, slowly coming to stand behind her, trapping her between him and the bookshelf. He knew that she was a powerful woman, but he was a powerful man. (Y/N) intrigued him like no other woman had before, and he craved her ever since he laid eyes on her. However, she was also a difficult person to read, though instead of making Tommy frustrated, it made him want to work harder for her.

“Is that so? Think you could take over the Peaky Blinders?”

(Y/N) knew his game, and she wanted to play.

“Why? You scared Mr Shelby?” subtly tilting her hips backwards, she bit her lip as she came into contact with his crotch, feeling the rhythm of his breath change.

“On the contrary,” grabbing her hips, he whipped her around to face him, pinning her harder into the bookshelf,“I don’t want just a truce, I want a partnership.”

“I said I would think about the truce.”

“Think about how powerful we could be. With us working together, more ground could be covered.” 

Their piercing eyes stared at each other, lustful tension building up inside them.

“Mr Shelby,” she straightened her back, making him step away slightly,“I don’t think my women would be happy with a partnership.”

“And why not? What is it about men that you all hate so much?”

“Remember when I said that I couldn’t tell you why we attacked your man? Well it was because they used to be together, a happy couple at first until he turned nasty. For some reason he changed, he started locking her up in their own home, forbidding her to go out unless he gave her permission. She was a prisoner, tortured whenever he came home and didn’t do as he asked. And all my other girls, they were somehow abused. Shelly was beaten up by her brother because she was ‘too loud’ and ‘disobedient’; and Ruth, she was thrown out of her home when she became ‘unladylike’. She’s the reason we’re called the Tattooed Ladies, it’s a clear sign of who we are and what we stand for. We won’t let men control us, and for those who can’t defend themselves, we do it for them.”

“And you? What happened to you?”

(Y/N) hesitated, realising that anger was evident all over her face. She hated what had happened to her gang, that was her whole reason for starting it, the tattoos just helped with their image, as well as portray their stories and feelings. 

“My mother and father wanted me to marry a man much older than I, try to bring some money into the family. When I refused, and after the biggest argument known to man, I ran away. A part of me hoped that they would come looking after me, but one night when I decided to return, I saw them happily sitting in our drawing room, laughing with each other; it was as if they had never had a daughter in the first place.”

Tommy was shocked that she was opening up this much. He was ready to be met with a stoned faced refusal, having a backup plan to persuade her to make  deal. But with this new information, he had a feeling that this might be easier than he thought. Maybe she realised that this would benefit her.

“A man took me in. He seemed so lovely, so charitable. I stayed with him nearer the city, got a job in a grocers, it was perfect. I never loved him, only as a friend anyway. But then he kept bringing around these friends of his. Sometimes they would stay for drinks, maybe dinner, then leave. It went on for weeks, and more and more different men came in. One night I had just got ready for bed when he knocked on my door, around five men standing behind him as he walked in. Turns out he wanted to use me for sex, an easy way to make money. I was lucky to get out of there without a single one touching me. That was the first time I killed someone.”

(Y/N)’s eyes showed deep pain, she was reflecting on what had happened, an incredibly painful past. Tommy wasn’t sure what to say, not always good with his words. (Y/N) took in a deep breath, a tight lipped smile on her face.

“But I don’t let it effect me, or bring me down. I won’t let it effect anything, not even the sex; it’s not something I need to be scared of, it’s something I do for fun.”

“That’s good to know.” he smirked, liking that she didn’t let the past get the best of her.“Now I want you to think very carefully about my proposition. We can help one another, there aren’t any cons to this.”

“Aren’t any cons? Aren’t we both technically con men?”

“You know what I mean.”

“You realise I can’t make a decision right this second. I need to discuss with my girls.”

“Of course.”

“But it was lovely to see you again Mr Shelby.” 

She brushed past him, heading towards the door.

“Leaving already?”

“Unfortunately, business never stops, though you should know that.”

He nodded, not breaking eye contact.

“But I look forward to seeing you again, very soon.”

She left the door wide open as she exited, giving Tommy a view of her from behind. He watched as the rest of the men ogled the three women walking out, all of them erupting into chatter as they left. Miss (Y/N) was one heck of a woman, and he would be damned if he couldn’t seal this deal.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders x reader #bbc #bbc peaky blinders #peaky blinders bbc

[screamingatanemptyroom]

I Can’t Eat Love part 7

Here is the next part to the story! Hope you guys enjoy!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3/ Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 linked here. (I’m going to have to make a master post, aren’t I.)

___________________________

The next day’s etiquette lessons were harsher, just as Mrs. Rendler promised. I was able to keep up, using my previous knowledge and skills, but this time I did my best to make it look difficult, hoping that she would relax the pace a little. Instead my efforts rewarded me with her satisfied expression, and a gleam in her eye that promised only more pain and suffering.

“You will be the greatest young lady I have ever trained.” She pronounced, looking me over from head to toe critically. “But must you dress so… plainly? I will say it’s a great improvement over those frilly monstrosities you used to wear to lessons, but the last two outfits have been simply dull.”

I smiled at her words, glancing down at my plain grey gown. Over the last week I had sold the majority of my more ridiculous gowns, leaving me with surprisingly few choices. Angela had pouted, saying that I was going to be out of style, but I overruled her, as well as ignored her suggestion that she be allowed to choose my new gowns. I very much enjoyed my simpler gowns, but knew that I would need something nicer… at least for public venues.

Fortunately I had an idea about that. 

“I’m changing over my wardrobe. I think it’s time I take on a more mature style, so as to not embarrass my parents or the Royal family.”

“You’re so grown up!” Queen Amerande sat down next to me, briefly hugging me as she settled in. “First you impress everyone with your improvements on your etiquette and now this?” She wiped her eyes. “I couldn’t be prouder as your mother.”

“Future Mother in Law!” Mrs. Rendler insisted.

“Don’t step on my dreams!” She hugged me again, smiling even as she argued. I couldn’t help but chuckle at her antics, but found it increasingly difficult to understand the Queen’s behavior. I thought I had gotten more discerning from my past life, able to see people’s true intentions. It had served me well with the others who seemed to be scheming around me. But with her… all I could see was a loving, cheerful person. There were no cracks in her disguise, she seemed completely at ease as she showered me with compliments and acted like a mother.

But it had to be a lie.

I felt a burning rage take root in my stomach, but I hid it as best I could, wondering how I could make it through three more years of training with her without breaking.

Finally we were done. With a sigh of relief, I headed to the Royal Treasury, looking forward to my lessons with Jim. I had completed the reading assignment he had given me, but now I had pages of questions I wanted to discuss with him. Entering the room, I clutched my books and notes in my arms, already saying a greeting…

Only to come to a screeching halt as I realized there was a stranger in the room. 

Jim looked up at my arrival, waving. “Ah, Lenora! Good, you’re here so we can get started.” Glancing between myself and the stranger, he paused. “Oh I should introduce you two…”

“No need.” The young man interrupted Jim with a grin. “We’ve sort of met before.” I recognized him from the previous week at my home, he had been together with Prince Rolan.

Hardly a point in his favor.

“Nathaniel. But you can call me Nate, Miss…”

I had forgotten how tall he was, I had to look up at him as I reached out my hand to shake his own. Standing between Nathaniel and Jim who also towered over me, I felt very small… an irritating feeling.  “Lenora.”

“Of course, I’ve heard a lot about you…” He kept speaking, but my attention had turned sharply. Not to him, or his words, but to his arm.

“What is this?!” I interrupted, grabbing his hand between both of my own. His face turning slightly red, Nate stuttered. “my hand ?”

“No, no the shirt!” I looked at the sleeve once more with a sigh before glancing excitedly at Nate. “Can you take it off?”

 “…”

“…”

Both Nate and Jim stared at me in absolute confusion, but I was already looking closer, ignoring them.

“I may not understand your country’s customs well, but are young ladies usually this… forward?”

Jim cleared his throat. “Not usually, maybe she’s just a little excited.” He tapped me on the shoulder, startling me. “Umm… Lenora. Usually you get to know young fellows a little better before asking to see them undressed.” 

“See HIM undressed?” I laughed. “You can if you want to, Jim. I just want the shirt.” 

“…”

“…”

They were stunned into silence once more, allowing me to happily look closer at the arm I was still clutching.

“The shirt?” Nate asked finally, his skin a bright red, contrasting with his dark hair.

“Yes!” I pinched the sleeve between two fingers. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful weave before, this cloth is so well constructed!” I checked the seams, whistling in appreciation “And whoever sewed your clothes together was very talented, the stitching is quite extraordinary!”

“Yes, um… can you let go?” He was covering his face with his free hand. I then came to the realization that I was clutching his arm in my hands. Partially freed from my fascination with his shirt, I let go with a small shriek, apologizing.

“I’m so sorry! That was very rude.”

“It’s okay.” He shot me a wry grin. “It was an definitely a novel experience.” 

Jim was roaring with laughter, holding his sides. “You should apologize to the poor young man’s pride! A pretty young lady demands he strip, but is more interested in his clothes than him!” He continued laughing after that, almost in tears.

Nate shot him a dirty look. “You are not a nice person.”

I genuinely felt bad. I had experienced a brief moment of utter excitement when I had seen the cloth, my plans for the future crowding my brain and leaving no room for common sense. I had probably scared him out of his mind. “Again, I apologize…” 

“Don’t.” He waved a hand. “I am the one who must apologize for making assumptions…”

I raised an eyebrow, “Not without reason…”

“But given your engagement to the prince, those assumptions were not kind to you.” He stepped back, sketching a formal bow very gracefully. I felt like applauding, knowing the amount of work that went in to perfecting that. “How can I make it up to you?”

I knew I shouldn’t let him apologize, but I couldn’t pass off the opportunity. “Can you tell me where I could purchase the cloth used to make your shirt?” I clasped my hands together, to keep them from shaking with excitement.

Nate looked confused. “The cloth?” glancing down at the shirt, he shook his head. “It’s made in Tilendra, my home country. It’s a special technique handed down there.”

“Oh. Of course.” I felt my shoulders slump. My poor plans! 

“But I can introduce you to one of the largest weaving groups in the capital. The woman who runs it is a little rough, but if you offer a decent price, she may be willing to work with you. “

“Really?”

“But why would you need cloth?” Jim broke in. “I would think you could have all the dresses you want made in the capital.

I smiled. “You think too small, Jim. This is much more important than a couple ball-gowns. I told you I was going to save the Duchy. And to do that, I have a plan.” 

We started the lesson, going over the reading assignments from the past week. To my surprise Nate had been reading the same chapters, and participated fully in the discussion. He seemed to have a milder disposition, often breaking up arguments when Jim and I disagreed. The time passed faster than I realized, and when he put an end to the lesson, I found I was disappointed the three of us couldn’t talk longer.

It was fun.

“Alright, here are the assignments for next week.” He handed me another piece of paper. I glanced at it, again holding back tears at the sheer volume he was expecting me to cover within the space of a week. Silently grumbling to myself, I was surprised when he patted me on the shoulder.

“You did well. You grasped these concepts even better than I did years ago back when I was learning it.”

I sighed. “Now if only I could have the benefit of experience like you.”

“It will come.” He grinned, “One way or the other. And in the meantime, if you need advice with one of your projects… just ask.”

I was pleasantly surprised at the offer. “Thank you.”

Nate cleared his throat. “Could I have the reading assignment as well?”

“Sure.” Jim shrugged, writing down the chapters assigned on a second piece of paper “But I thought you were leaving soon?”

“I’m here to gain knowledge and make allies. Jim. However long that takes.” He grinned, taking the paper. “And this is the kind of knowledge we need in Tilendra if we are to be a thriving nation.”

“That’s fine with me, Nate. But like I said before, there will be no special treatment here! Do the work, or don’t waste my time by showing up. ”

Jim’s harsh words didn’t seem to bother Nate at all. “Deal.” Turning to me, he shook my hand once more. “Nice to meet you, Lenora. I’ll talk to you next week regarding the cloth.”

“Thanks, I look forward to it.” I walked away, feeling relieved. Not only had I gained a lot from the classes, and felt ready to put some of the principles I had gathered to practice, but the first step in my plan for true financial independence had just been taken.

This life was different.

I was changing things.

___________________________

“Miss.” Hallers stepped into my office, a truly conflicted expression on his face. “There is a visitor here, but I am unsure if it’s… appropriate.” 

I smiled, trying to relieve the butler’s tension. “Who is it?”

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “The man you wanted to purchase information from. ‘Mr. Rig.’” He paused. “Should I turn him away, Miss?” 

“Rig’s here?” Took him long enough. “Let him in.”

“Are you sure?” It seemed Hallers couldn’t hold back his protest. “He’s hardly a suitable guest!”

“It’s alright, the Duchy needs him.” I thought for a moment. “If possible, would you be willing to stay in the room? There’s safety in numbers.”

“Very good, Miss.” I he was disapproving or not, it was difficult to tell. Hallers’ expression had retreated into a proper polite mask, hiding his thoughts. He left, leaving me unexpectedly nervous. I had known Rig in a different lifetime. What if he wasn’t the same person? Checking the object strapped to the underside of my desk, I settled into my chair, my back straight and my face uncaring. I couldn’t let Rig sniff out that I was desperate, he’d be impossible to bargain down after that.

Hallers reappeared. “Mr. Rig, Miss.”

Behind him stepped a man, and I felt my breath catch in my chest at the familiar sight.

___________________________

“Poor thing, you starving?” An older man with a gentle smile reached out and helped me to my feet.

“You can work for me, get back on your feet.”

I took his hand warily, having learned to not trust appealing offers. “Why would you help me?”

He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe in another lifetime you can pay me back.”

___________________________

Rig looked the same as he did as when I first met him. He would never stand out in a crowd unless he wanted to. His nose was slightly crooked, as if it had been broken and never healed correctly. His hair was just starting to grey at the temples, his exact age difficult to determine. He was short, barely taller than me, but he projected an air of confidence as if all the secrets in the world hid behind his eyes. 

“Just Rig is fine.” He stepped closer, leaving some space and my desk between us. “I’m nowhere near fancy enough to warrant a ‘Mister.’”

I grinned. “Of course, Rig. How can I help you.” 

“I got… your request.” He shrugged. “The info is simple enough.”

 I raised an eyebrow. “But?”

 “But… that’s not the tricky part.” He slouched against the wall facing me, sticking his hands in his pockets. “The tricky part is how a little noble lady like you got the password that’s known only to my inner circle?”

“That?” I leaned back in my chair, my hands in my lap. “Let’s just say you and I were friends in another lifetime. This will not be my only commission. I will have plenty of work for your and all your group. “ I smiled, thinking of  the time I had spent under his employ. “Consider it returning a favor.”

Rig didn’t smile back. “No deal. I don’t do business with the nobility. You’re all soft… weak. And I don’t like it when there’s a weak link that’s got something on me.” He looked me over with a disdainful scoff. “You look like the type that would talk under pressure.”

THUNK!

The knife I had retrieved under my desk flew through the air, burying itself in the wall just beside his face. I vaulted over the desk, grateful for the looser, simpler skirt I had chosen for that day, and grabbed Rig. My right hand pinned his shoulder against the wall, the other grabbing the hilt of my knife.

It was ironic that I was using my knife throwing skills to threaten Rig of all people.

After all, he had been the one to teach me to throw one in the first place.

I kept my voice low and calm. “I’m not soft. I’m a determined woman. One who will do anything to accomplish my goals. Don’t. hinder. me. “ 

At these words he started to push me away, only to stiffen up in fear as I leaned forward to whisper a single name into his ear.

“Raewynn.”

I stepped back, walking calmly to my desk and sitting down. “You’ll find that being my friend will be to you and your group’s benefit. You won’t regret it.” I left it unsaid of what would happen if he was against me.

His shoulder slumped, he looked up at me with terror in his eyes. “H-how? How could you possibly know...?”

I smiled. “I told you, we were friends in another life. You and I are the only ones alive who know right now. But if I were you, I wouldn’t trust anyone else with that matter. It’s a good way to end up dead.”

I wasn’t threatening him this time. I truly was trying to warn him. He seemed to sense it, nodding carefully and stepping closer, this time with much more caution and respect.

“Here’s the information you purchased. “ He took some documents from the inside of his coat, placing it on my desk. “The stuff they hide from the world, from their wives… heck even the stuff they hide from their lovers… all of it in there.” 

I didn’t look through it, I knew it would be good. “Perfect. Thank you.”

Rig relaxed slightly. “Well, I AM the best at this.”

“Which is why I paid double your going rate.” I grinned at his shocked reaction. “You thought I didn’t know?”

“I hoped.” He muttered.

“Don’t worry. I’ll always pay double. Your work is worth it.” I slid a piece of paper across the desk. “Your next assignment.”

“This…” He read it, his eyes widening. “Are you sure…?”

“I know the answer to the question already, Rig.” I answered calmly. “I just need the proof.”

“Alright then.” He nodded, reaching out his hand to shake my own. I took it, the gesture hauntingly familiar.

___________________________

“Lee, we’ve got to go!” The older woman looked around frantically, as if expecting an attack at any moment. “They’ll be coming after us next!” 

“All he did was trust the wrong person.” I whispered. “Love truly is a weakness, isn’t it?

“Lee, Come on!”

I wiped the tears from my eyes, reaching out to slowly close the eyes of the bloody corpse in front of me.

“Goodbye, Rig.”

“LEE!”

___________________________

“I must say, I’m glad I’m not your enemy.” His words startled me briefly, and I laughed at my own inattention. Rig was alive in this lifetime. Standing in front of me happy and whole.  There were still five years before he would be murdered in the streets. 

I let go of his hand, a chill running down my spine at the thought. “Likewise.”

Rig walked out, leaving an awkward silence between Hallers and myself.

“...”

“You can ask, Hallers.”

“There’s too many questions.” He shook his head. “What did you whisper to him that scared him so deeply?”

I stared at the empty doorway, still caught by memories. “It was a name. Someone he cares about… someone he thought no one knew about.”

“How do you know about her then?” The question burst out of him, and he seemed to catch himself. “I apologize…”

“Don’t.” I smiled at him. “I’ve already said how I know.”

“But…”

“Just because you don’t believe me, doesn’t make it true.” The last few words came out as a sigh. Finished,  I turned my attention to the to folder Rig had left.

“If you say so.” He turned to leave, but I held up a hand, calling him back.

“Hallers, you can schedule the meeting with the tax officials for three days from now.”

It would give me enough time to prepare, without putting it off too much further. 

“Yes, Miss.”

“Oh, and could you ask your brother to be present?”

That caught his attention. “My brother?”

“I need someone big and intimidating-looking to stand in the back of the room. Jim would be perfect. I’m happy to pay him.”

“Do we have to?” Hallers wasn’t one to whine, but this came pretty close. “He’s so… undignified.” 

“Could you make yourself intimidating, then?” I asked seriously.

He looked up and down his thin, reedy frame. “I’ll talk to him.” He muttered, leaving.

I chuckled, returning to the information I had paid for. I needed to have everything in place perfectly for the meeting.

The whole Duchy was counting on it.

#writing #i can't eat love #part 7 #fantasy #second life #changing fate

[issabangtanfic]

[Jungkook] The Windmill House (Chapter 1)

Masterlist

Synopsis: When for once rich doesn’t rhyme with Christian Grey.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

A/N: Feel free to submit a cover! Tell me what you think in my inbox! Enjoy!

-

“Hello, hello, hello, hello!” I sing, trotting inside the office, waving at whoever wants to see it, too much in a rush to actually stop and greet everybody.

“Someone’s late for a meeting.” Ava, our receptionist and secretary throws at me from behind her desk , making fun of me, as always. I mean, I’m quite good at making a show out of myself, I can’t blame her.

“I forgot my bloody portfolio!” I shout in explanation, running the best I can in those heels.

“Morning Jade.. Elijah..Sam..Anthony.” I say, passing their working stations. I reach my office and circle my desk, trying to find my portfolio amongst the pile of rubbish on my desk.

For someone who makes a living out of organising spaces, I sure know how to orginize my stuff. But I’m working on It. Or at least, I plan on doing that. I find my portfolio under a pile of calendars I didn’t know I had.

When I look up and prepare to leave, Ava is standing in my doorway with her usual plate of warm pancakes that she brings every morning.

“Hi. Oh, sorry I don’t have time.” I tell her, exiting my office. She gives me a knowing smile and just stands there, knowing I’ll end up taking one.

I take a few steps back.

“Just one.” I mumble, rolling up a pancake. “Bye!”

“Maya, honey.” I hear my boss and idol, Frédérique Meunier- Fred, call me. I stop dead in my tracks with the pancake in my mouth, knowing he’s about to scold me for being late. And today is not a good day to be late. I’m late precisely for the meeting I can’t be late for.

“Yes?” I say, slowly turning around to face him. He’s narrowing one eye at me. I know I have to come back from this meeting with a contract. The client’s rich, the project’s big, and he requested me specifically.

“Are you late for the Violet Mansion meeting?” He asks, but I’m pretty sure he knows the answer to his question. Or does he? I narrow my eyes back at hm, gauging.

“Define “late”.” I try. He sighs deeply.

“You’re lucky you’re talented. Go.” He mutters, rubbing his eyes in annoyance. Fred always tells me I make him age quicker than he’s supposed to. Today I see that. I take my cue and turn around, trotting out of the office just like I came in.

“She’s something.” I hear Fred mumble to himself, and I’m pretty sure it’s a compliment.

-

The mansion is located outside London. It’s a 30 minute drive from the city center, where our office is. I usually work in the city, being specialized in modern luxury. This is a first for me, and I’m excited. I hope me being 45 minutes late isn’t going to be a big deal.

There is a long driveway that leads to the house, with old but huge metal gates before it. Through the bars, I can see the Violet Mansion, which is not violet at all. The building is named like that because the original owners were lavender dealers and their backyard was famous for its lavish parties in a purple see of flowers. It’s been centuries, but the name sticks.

I don’t know who the current owner is though. I just have his name. Jeon Jungkook.

I ring the intercom.

“Name, please.” A male voice slurs from the other side of the line. How about Hello? Rude.

“Maya Fair. I’m the interior designer.” I reply. I wait for an answer, but there’s just a loud buzz, and the gates open slowly. I squeeze through when there is enough space for my mini and park my car in the driveway, at the bottom of the steps that lead to the porch.

I take a moment to appreciate the monster. This mansion is old and Italian, almost immaculate with fair stones. No one would believe this jewel sits right outside London. What I love about the exterior are the two stairways that lead to the porch.

I walk up the stairs and prepare to knock on the door, when it opens on its own. I meet a tall- taller than me - asian man. He’s wearing a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up, the top buttons of it undone and letting appear a path of pearly white skin. His face is… a version of perfect. His sturdy brown eyes are pinned on me, his eyebrows furrowed and his whole being radiating with charisma.

The sight of him knocks the air out of my lungs. He is beautiful, in a dirty and disturbing way. He stares at me, clearly having no plans on greeting me first. I need to speak.

“Mr Jeon.” I try, though I could be wrong. He could be an employee, but my gut tells me he owns this place. He radiates with power. But it’s his eyes I’m mesmerized by.

“Hello, I’m Miss Fair. I’m terribly sorry for being late.” I manage to speak without my voice breaking, but I’m sure I’m betraying my mental state. I stretch my hand out, and I almost squeal when he takes it in his. He shakes my hand with his firm yet a bit clammy hand. They are warm. My heart starts to pound in my ears.

“I’m even sorrier Mrs Fair. I thought my PA had called you to tell you you didn’t need to come anymore.” He says, letting my hand go. He has an American accent.

“Oh. Are we postponing?”

“No, I gave the protect to someone else.” He counters, shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers. That’s when I notice how well they fit him, and how they hang perfectly on his hips.

Wait what? My face falls, realisation sinking into my brain.

“Someone who was on time.” He adds when he sees my face. What?! He gave it to someone else just because I was late? He doesn’t even know what i could do with it! And he asked for me specifically. I have no way how he knows about me by the way.

For a second, I manage to forget his hypnotising looks and focus on my work and the situation at hand.

“But is he or she better than me?” I challenge, crossing my arms over my chest. “Maybe you should find out before appointing anybody for such an ambitious-”

“Punctuality,” He cuts me off, taking a step closer to me and stepping out onto the porch. My heart jumps in my throat as he gets closer. His aura engulfing me.  “Mrs Fair, is something I demand from all my business partners. He lectures. I swallow, his words missing my brain. I can’t seem to look away from his face, and I start blushing when my eyes land on his mouth.

If I don’t stop right now, he’ll notice. I start remembering everything that happened this morning. I really thought this would be just like any other day, and here I am, shaking like a leaf in front of the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, who also happens to be an asshole and is about to get me fired.

“It’s professionalism, etiquette, politeness. I don’t work with people who waste my time.” He says, his tone icy. He speaks slowly but each of his words feel like a violent slap across the face.

“Even if they could do greater things than others?” I retort, because as hot as he is, I think it’s a stupid way of thinking. He narrows an eye at me, frowning. “Suddenly I’m quite curious as to how your business is doing, considering you like closing doors for petty reasons.”

“Petty.” He scoffs.

“Let me see this mansion and I’ll expose my ideas.” I propose. I’m in survival mode. His looks and the manliness he radiates with have made my head spin, but now I’m back in the game.

“With that attitude?” He scoffs at me again.

“It’s my ideas that I sell, not my attitude.” I retort. His head tips to the side and he takes a moment to study me, eyes searching on my face like lasers. They crack open my business armor, and as I try to hold his gaze, I suddenly see a point of something dangerous in his eyes. I’m the first one to look away.

“After you, miss Fair.” Mr Jeon grants me after what feels like an eternity, stepping aside to let me in the mansion. I take a few step in and wait for him to close the door, taking in the sight of this building.

If the exterior speaks in Italian, the interior screams…help. The interior is a mix of Rococo and Mediteranean designs, which looks… shocking.

The structure of the house is Italian, with white stones on the walls, wide arcs as openings, no doors, dark beige tiles on the floor, but the furniture is out of time. Everything is beautiful and pristine, bu it’s red, baroque and rococo. English rococo. English and Italy don’t go together very well. I’m hoping Mr Jeon is going to ask me to bring him to Italy with this one.

“My PA is giving a tour to the other designer.” I hear his loud voice way too close to me, enough to make me jump and snap me out of my reverie. I turn to look at him. “So you’re stuck with me for that part.”

“You called two designers for the same job?” I ask, quite shocked.

“I’ll compare your ideas, see which one I like the most.” He replies simply.

“You sure show little faith in me for someone who requested me by name.” I throw, hoping to get an explanation about that.

“My brother recommended you to me.” He declares, staring at me, then his eyes dip to my lips, and my chest, I think. “I see why, now.” He adds more quietly, before turning on his heels. My jaw drop as I stare at the back of his head. What a fucking boor!

“Excuse me?” I utter, prompting him to turn back around.

“I most certainly didn’t sleep with your brother, whoever that is.” I say categorically, glaring at him. He laughs at me, boyish and loud. His eyes get smaller and small wrinkles appear next to them, and he beams, his face radiating with light.

Now I know what a true beautiful smile is.

“Miss Fair will you please unravel your knickers,” He says to me “I was only talking about your attitude.” He explains. Oh.

“Since my brother loves to piss me off, I guess he recommended me someone just as infuriating as him.” He throws at me, and as negative as his words are, his tone, and the way his eyes twinkle, tell me it’s more of a compliment than an insult.

I dont’t dwell on it though, because I can’t think straight when he’s looking at me. I purse my lips.

“Great. Can we start discussing the project?” I prompt. His smile fades away.

“Would you like a drink?” He proposes. Actually, my mouth feels dry, because I have been internally dry-heaving ever since I laid my eyes on him.

“No, thank you.” I lie, just wanting to get on with the tour. Nodding quietly, Mr Jeon shows me upstairs and across the mansion.

“This, is where I might need you.” He says as we enter a totally different section of the building. As if another part had been attached to it like a piece of lego, the interior morphs from a patchwork of ancient style manor to a jewel of modern luxury and minimalism.

We step onto a mezzanine that gives onto a lounge area. I’m tempted to scream down the room, certain it’ll echo.

“I just bought this mansion, and it has this extension.” He explains. This place is immaculate.

Needing to keep a trace of that, I pull out my small camera from my bag and snap a quick picture. I lift my head to immortalize the diamond chandelier

“I want this,” I hear Mr Jeon say, and he puts his hand over my camera, lowering it. I look back at him, and he’s throwing daggers at me with his eyes.

”to become the whole mansion.” He finishes. I clear my throat.

“This?” I point towards the lounge area. He can’t be serious.

“Yes. I want more luminous rooms and pale colors. All that red really gets on my nerves.” He mutters, leaning against the guardrail of the mezzanine.

Why would he do that? White walls, really? Beige floor tiles? One leather sofa here and there? It looks beautiful, sure, but in its own genre. That’s not the spirit of the mansion. I thought he was going to ask me to bring back the mozzarella of this place, not turn it into a Dubai hotel.

“Why not just build another mansion?” I propose.

“Pardon?”

“You want to rob this building from its character, and that’s a shame.” I explain, and I’m too worried about that mozzarella spirit that I don’t realise I’m stepping a line.

“Why not build your own building and give it its own identity?” I propose. “And it’s not like the rest is ugly.”

“The colors and the furniture are-“

“I’m not talking about the paint, but the shape, the structure, the skeleton of this mansion.” I cut him off, needing him to understand. I love my job, but I hate that the clients have no vison, that they don’t feel what energy buildings and houses give off. This is going to be a murder.

“If that’s what you have planned for this project, I don’t want in on this.” I tell him, looking straight into his sturdy brown eyes. He frowns down at me.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” I murmur. He lags for a second, is mouth hanging slightly open, his lips parted in a way that lets me see a bit of his tongue, and that’s enough to distract me again.

“You make all this fuss for me to let you in and you give up because you like the mouldings?” He says, threat in his voice.

“Yes.” I reply sternly.

“This,” I wave towards the extension. “Is absolutely beautiful. It’s divine.” I tell him. Turning on my heels, I walk back to the place where the old building is.

“But this is the mansion we’re in.” I place my hand on the rock arc that serves as a doorway. I look back at him, hoping he’s getting what I’m saying. His face is a knot of confusion, and he looks displeased. This is pointless.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time, but I can’t murder this old guy.” I shrug, giving the arc an affectionate tap. I can’t believe I’m refusing such a project, but my heart won’t handle it. Shit, Fred won’t handle it if I come back empty-handed.

“But I can pass it to a colleague of mine. She’s phenomenal when it comes to minimalism, and Italian furniture. She’ll do fantastic.”  I add quickly, almost stumbling over my words. Mr Jeon opens his mouth to talk but he’s cut off by sounds of heels treading the floor. My eyes follow the sound and I see a man and woman walking up the mezzanine in our direction.

“No need.” Mr Jeon says to me.  “Miss Bingfield here is only too willing to be part of this.” He says, waving towards the middle-aged woman accompanied by another asian man. I freeze, feeling defeated.

“And she was on time.” He adds. Ouch. The woman flushes, clinging to her portfolio and battling her eyelashes at him. I look away, feeling nauseous.

“There are a few things we need to discuss, Mr Jeon.” She murmurs to him.

“Jimin, please show miss Bingfield back in my office.” Mr Jeon orders, and the guy- Jimin, as I know him now, strides past me, greeting me with a nod, followed by the other designer.

Mr Jeon strides over to me.

“I’ll walk you back to the door.” He says, his words feeling like stabs in my stomach. This is disastrous. I barged my way into this mansion by acting cocky and confidant, and know my confidence has been shattered to pieces, and I feel humiliated.

“I’ll show myself out, thank you.” I mutter, turning on my heels. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle any more time in his company.

“I insist.” I hear him say as he walks next to me. I shut him out, looking down at the floor as we walk back to the entrance of the mansion, but my head shoots up when I feel him casually put his hand on to small of my back.

A current of electricity travels through me, and I almost forget how to walk. Now It’s all I feel, the heat of his hand, through the  material of my dress and through my skin, through my flesh and inside my core. I take quicker steps, my breath caught up in my throat.

What is this? Why am I like this? I completely lost my composure the second I laid my eyes on him and I fucked things up. Not only did I miss a contract, a beautiful Italian architect work is going to be destroyed and I humiliated myself in front of a man who knew I’d do just that.

I’m such a failure. Tears of frustration rise up to my eyes, making them sting. And my throat tightens and my nose starts to feel heavy with snot.

“Could I yse the bathroom quickly?” I blurt out, feeling like I’m about to lose it. Jeon stops abruptly in his steps.

“There’s one right there.” He point at a door behind me. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.“

Avoiding his gaze, I dive into the bathroom and look the door just in time, bursting into tears right after. I slap my portfolio on the vanity, angry at myself and that piece of crap who doesn’t recognise beauty. Taking deep breaths, I wipe my tears away, wanting to calm down as fast as I can.

If you want to cry Maya, you can, but get out of here first.

Checking myself in the mirror, I’m relieved to see my eyes aren’t red yet. I smooth my hair down and gently slap my cheeks, giving myself a mental pep talk. Just one more minute with him.

You go down the stairs, out the mansion, into your car and byebye sexy douche bag. You can do this.

Taking one last, cleansing breath, I assess myself one last time in the mirror. I look just fine. I walk out the bathroom and retrace my steps until I’m back at the stairs. Mr douchy is waiting for me like he said, hands in the pockets of his fine trousers.

In dead silence, he escorts me to the door, opening it for me.

“Pleasure meeting you, Maya.” He murmurs, offering me his hand. The way my name rolls off his tongue makes the hairs on my nape rise in attention.

“Miss Fair.” I correct him, shaking his hand. He gives me a knowing smile. He knows.

“Miss Fair.” He repeats, letting my hand go. “Lovely meeting you. I mean it.” He murmurs, and I act as if his wors aren’t about to make me shake like a leaf. I muster up the last bit of confidence he left in me after thiose twenty minutes.

“I’d say the same thing, but I don’t lie.” I reply on the same honeyed tone as him. He makes a surpried but subtly pleased face. The guy is having his fun right now.

“Great day to you Mr Jeon.” I mutter, turning on my heels and doing my best not tosprint away. I walk down the stairs and don’t hear the door being closed. I understand he’s stilll watching me from the porch, so I try to march as confidently as possible without turning back.

I make it to my car, and I feel safer there. I sigh deeply, leaning my forehead against my steering wheel. I want to go home. I physically sag, all strength having being drained out of me during this… whatever this was.

i joldt up when I hear a loud buzz, and see the gates slowly opening in front of me. Pulling myself together, I start the engine and squeeze through when I have enough space, driving away without any intention of coming back.

I drive back to the office, and it’s almost empty, almost everyone being gone on their lunch break. Sighing deeply, I sag agaisnt the chair of my desk, dropping my head between my hands.

How the hell am I supposed to tell Fred I lost the contract? It was almost a done deal. He requested me by name.

Fred always complains that I refuse deals because I’m ’too’ passionate about what I do. And I try, really try to work on it, but it really makes me emotional to see people ruining houses and architect work because of trends.

I absolutely love my job, I love architecture, and that’s why I want to do it properly. But can I call it proper work when I keep losing money?

“So? How did it go?” I hear Jade, a colleague of mine ask me. When I look up she’s entering my office, closing the door behind her and leaning against the door. She looks at me with shiny eyes, her lips pursed in anticipation. Even she was excited about this.

I burst into tears, dropping my head again, feeling defeated for the second time.

“Hey.” Jade croons, walking over to me. She sits on my desk, one of her hand coming down to stroke my back comfortingly.

“I’m a monumental fuck-up.” I sob, wiping my eyes only to let more tears fall out of them.

“Honey, what happened?” She asks me. I look up at her through my damp lashes.

“He gave it to someone else.” I sniffle.

“The project? Why?” She breathes, her face a knot of confusion. I sniffle.

“Because I was late.” I confess,. “And because I refused when he gave me a second chance.” I test it on her, lifting shy eyes to her face to see her reaction so I can imagine Fred’s.

“Maya.”

Hugh. I drop my head in my hands again.

“Fred is going to kill me.” I groan.

“Well, he’s out of the office all afternoon, so calm down.” She says. not denying it. He is going to kill me. Tomorrow. I have 22 hours to live. I’ll take that.

“Than man, Jeon Jungkook, he’s quite something.” I mutter.

“He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“You know him?” I shoot my eyes up at her.

“My husband works with him sometimes. He’s tough in business.” She explains. Tough in business? He’s tough period.  “But hot, right?” She smirks.

I don’t reply and look away from her, not wanting to confess that just looking at him turns me into an anxious sappy puddle. My office phone rings.

Sighing, I quickly grab a tissue from the box on my desk and wipe my nose, picking up the combine,

“Hello?” I say as I take the call. Jade gives me a sympathetic tap on the back before leaving me to my business.

“Maya? Mr Jeon on line 2 for you.” Ava says from the other end of the line. What?

I thought I’d never have to deal with him again. I think secretly I was relieved he gave the project to someone else, now I’m getting nervous again just at the idea of being on the phone with him. This man is bad for my blood pressure.

I take a few seconds.

“Put him through.” I tell her before hanging up. I wait, staring at the phone on my desk until it starts ringing again. And I wait. It rings once, twice, three times, and I pick up at the fourth time.

“One second please.” I say quickly before putting him on hold. I don’t know why I’m doing this, but I want him to think I’m busy. I take his call after another twenty seconds.

“Union design and architecture, Maya on the phone, how can I help you?” I say, sounding as professional yet nonchalant as possible.

“Maya?” His voice sounds like buttery pancakes, my name in his mouth making me ball my fists as my blood rushes through my veins. I put my fist in my mouth, calming myself down.

“Who’s talking?” I pipe up.

“Well, the man whose name the receptionist told you.” He retorts. “But nice try.”

Ouch.

“What can I help you with, Mr Jeon?” I sigh. He even defeats me at my twisted mind games.

“You forgot your portfolio in my bathroom.” He informs me.

“Oh.” I say. “You can throw it away. I have multiple.” I lie. I don’t have multiple portfolios, I’ve lost them all, but I’m not meeting him again to get it back. He can have it.

“Noted. But that’s not the only reason I’m calling.” He retorts. God help me. “Do you do evenings?” He asks me.

“No, I don’t.” I lie.

“Something tells me you’re lying.”

HOW THE FUCK DOES HE KNOW?

“Mr Jeon, why don’t you just tell me what you want?” I ask, exasperated.

“I will. Let’s say tomorrow around seven?” He proposes. Oh sweet mother of jesus, I’m seeign this man again, aren’t I?

If it’s work related, I’ll have to go. It could be an occasion to get a contract and prevent Fred from firing me.

“Maya?” He calls when I don’t answer.

“Miss Fair.” I correct him.

“Miss Fair, can we meet at seven?” He sounds amused.

“-Ish.” I tell him.

“-ish.” He repeats. “Good. I’ll send you the address.”

“Perfect.”

“See you tomorrow, Maya.”

“Miss-“

He hangs up before I can correct him. Christ, what am I getting myself into?

Seconds later, I receive a text on my phone from an unknown number. It’s nothing but un address. How did he get my number? Oh, my portfolio.

-

I drive to the location Mr Jeon gave me. It’s outside london but closer than the mansion. When I actually make it to the adress, I  meet nothing but a dirt road, and my GPS indicates I’m at destination. But there’s nothing. Nothing expect another car, Mr Jeon’s Audi, which he’s leaning against, waiting for me. He’s wearing a suit today as well, but this time he has a jacket and a tie. The jacket fits him perfectly. I have a thing for well fitted suits, men in suits, him in a suit…

My heart starts to race again just at the thought of being close to him, talking to him and having him looking at me with his deep pools of brown.

I park right behind his vehicle and get out my car with shaky legs.

“Maya.” He greets with a soft yet dazzling smile, stretching his hand out to me.

“Miss Fair, please.” I correct him, making sure he doesn’t cross the line again. I fully intend on not letting him trample me. I shake his hand, and I think I make a good job hiding the tingles that run through me when our skins touch.

“Miss Fair.” He concedes, nodding softly, his fingers lingering against my palm as I slip my hand out of his. “You’re looking lovely today.” He says appreciatively, taking me by surprise.

Wait, what?

I’m suddenly self conscious, know that I know he notices the way I look. My cheeks heat up dangerously, and I’m a bit listless, my mouth going dry.

This god-like creature thinks I look lovely today.

My mouth hangs slightly open in shock, and I can’t seem to manage to form a decent answer- or a decent sound, for that matter. His eyes slide down my legs.

“Maybe I should’ve told you to bring flat shoes.” He muses, crinkling his nose. He crinkles his nose!

“We’re going for a hike.” He declares. I blink rapidly.

“Are we?” I manage. He nods silently.

“Follow me.” He invites.

My feet accepting to cooperate, I follow him down the lane, entering the forest. We walk in the nature for a good five minutes, the forest slowly morphing into darker woods. And That’s when I start to wonder just what I am doing, following an asian sex symbol in woods outside London.

I think I should run. No one knows where I am. Hell, I don’t even where I am. When I decide to stop and run, we make it out of the woods into a huge parcel of greenery, standing just at the bottom of a hill. There is a stairway that has been built to reach the top. It’s made of white stones, and from the bottom, it forms a mosaic with roman designs using perspective vison.

I’m fascinated and curious. There is actually something up here. The stairs are rundown though, broken in several places, pieces  missing, the overall structure looking unsteady. But it’s beautiful.

“The steps are broken. Be careful where you step.” Mr Jeon says to me as I start climbing. This is such a shame. These stairs must have looked amazing in the past.

“You still don’t want to tell me why I’m here?” I ask, detaching my gaze from the stones under my feet.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He replies elusively.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to see me again.” I murmur, and watch as his brow furrows. He looks at me quizzically.

“I never said that. I said I was pleased to meet you.” He reminds me. Well, that’s something you say to anyone when you’re polite enough. I didn’t think-

“And I said I meant it.” He adds. So, that man doesn’t know how to lie? He really was pleased to meet me? He, for sure, had a ver strange way of showing it.

“Ah!” I shriek when the stone under my foot wobbles and detaches itself from the step. I stumble forward, but Mr Jeon’s strong hand stops my fall. He grabs me by the upper arm and yanks me up, pulling me flush against him.

I look up at him, mortified by his proximity. His heat pours out onto me, from his chest onto my side, and from his hand onto my arm. The delicate smell of fresh yet musky cologne engulfs itself in my nostrils, and his brown pools stare at me intently, bordering on a slight glare.

My heart is in my ears, pounding hard and heating up my cheeks.

“I said be careful.” He murmurs, letting me go. When he steps back, the air gets thinner, and I can actually breathe. That’s when I realise I was holding my breath.

“Thank you.” I mumble, actually thanking god he stepped away, but then I feel his fingertips sliding across my palm. I look down at my hand as he slips his in it, clipping my fingers down with his thumb across my knuckles.

“We’re almost there.” He says, holding my hand up. My mouth dries out, all the moisture in it going straight to my hand and making it clammy. He’s holding my hand.

He slightly tugs me forward, prompting my feet to move. And while he thinks he’s helping my go up the stairs more steadily, he’s actually making it worse for me because my legs have turned into jelly.

He lets me go once we make it to the top, and I meet an abandoned horror house. It’s actually a windmill house, from old America, again, right outside London. But it’s broken down, rundown, old and scary. The windmill is placed on the left, a large column maybe ten meters high. It’s made of old white stone that went beige with time.

“What’s this?” I ask my client as we walk down the grave pathway.

“My old guy.” He declares, watching me. His old guy? He has some sentimental connection with this shell of a house? We stop under the porch.

“You’re giving me this…project?” I ask, incredulous. He really was pleased to meet me.

“It’s not a project.” He shakes his head softly, looking up at the mill. “It’s my whole life.”

I swallow. He sure does know how to put pressure on people.

“And I want you to work on it.” He adds, and deep down, in a small, unused part of my brain, I tell myself he’s not just talking about this house.

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