#i didn't even hate working retail

[elkian]

The shortest job I ever worked was a factory floor for a multi-billion dollar company, pioneer and near-monopolizer of its industry. It made machines that sold for $7 million a pop to start, and the month before I started there was a major controversy about removing the free coffee from the break rooms.

Coffee was the only free thing there. There were (overpriced) snacks, and there were actually decent cafeteria meals. However, I worked the night shift, and the cafeteria was blatantly scheduled to feed the day crew. It closed and cleaned up less than an hour after 2nd shift's lunch. Everything available was leftovers.

It paid the best of any job I ever worked, and that was on top of the overtime bonus - because it was 60 hour work weeks.

Every single person building the multimillion dollar machines was from a temp agency, myself included.

My station had half the tools it was supposed to. Half. I saw my manager all of twice the entire time I was there. People bought their own tools to bring to the multi-billion dollar build floor to work on borderline one-of-a-kind industry machinery because you couldn't get your boss to buy a fucking screwdriver. Half my attention for the entirety of my 10-hour shift was spent watching the tool chest, because there were over 300 people in full-body cover in that giant room and if someone took your tools you would never get them back. And people took your tools because they didn't have tools!

I bailed after a month. I was making over $30 an hour and I wanted to kill someone by the time my last day rolled around.

The next job I had was at a startup that paid barely over half that. The break room had an espresso machine that anyone could use, and snacks and a couple of frozen meals that you could tap (I tried to never overdo it, but the option was really nice). When I told my supervisor about the tool problem at the previous place he blurted out "that's disgusting". He did his best to make sure our tiny lab had what we needed and that problems were being communicated correctly. I could chat with my coworkers and go outside on break when I needed to and still got a ton of work done, to the point that at the end of the first week someone pointed at the orders folder and went "it's empty!?" (I was not the only new hire at the time but still a major ego boost)

If I hadn't had an unrelated injury I might have stayed there for literal years; I lasted more than 10x the time than I did at the previous place, despite the difference in pay.

It's been found over and over again in so many studies but it really hits hardest once you experience it yourself: working environment makes all the difference.

The reason people don’t want to work is that it’s just normal for them to be in bad work environments.

My issue with working at Walmart wasn’t the work itself I was doing. It was the circumstances around it. The concrete floor, lack of places to sit, having to put up with asshole customers, not getting time off for injuries, and bad pay.

If I had been given shock pads to stand on or a few chairs to rest on sometimes, if they paid me a livable amount of money and I was allowed to yell back at asshole customers, if they had given me any amount of training, I would happily work part time folding clothes all day and telling people where the swimsuit section is.

I’m a creative type. I’m a writer. I’m pretty smart, even. But if I could make a living folding shirts and listening to podcasts in one ear and helping people find the scented candles for 30 hours a week? I would. Leaves some mental space free for me to brainstorm. Lets me catch up on my reading with audiobooks.

But instead I was treated so badly by upper management and customers that I’m like legitimately a little frightened whenever I step into a Walmart now. And I only worked there for three months a few years ago.

I’m a good lower level worker. When I’m treated well. I like finishing tasks. I like being helpful. I like having some time to talk to coworkers and some time alone with my thoughts. I’m a frickin team player. And that’s how I was at my first job. I was treated well by my supervisor. I was trained. They were patient with me. I was so good at being low on the totem pole at that job because I was valued and felt like I was being listened to. I was able to sit still when there was nothing left to do which made it feel less bad when we were on a time crunch. I didn’t mind working hard at that job because it was fun even though I was doing all the low level stuff that the supervisors didn’t want do.

But at Walmart I was like that for all of two days. Then I figured out that nobody appreciated my work and if I worked in my normal people pleasing manner I’d kill myself because their standards were high and the rewards for meeting them were low.

So I slowed down. I started avoiding customers. I started taking a lot longer to get to my breaks and to come back from them. I became worse at my job because no matter how good I was at it there would be no reward, no appreciation, and I’d just be pushed further beyond my limits.

My only level of happiness from that job came from the people who were working with me. The old ladies and my department manager who made sure I wasn’t overextending myself. The one other young man working in the clothing department who always got sent with me to unload the heavy stuff and commiserated with me about the shoulder injuries, the hurting feet we were too young to have.

But none of that was enough to make me stay. We were constantly understaffed. I was constantly abused by customers and not able to do a thing about it. I was not paid much at all. So as soon as I had enough saved up for what I was trying to do and my last semester of college was about to start I handed in my two weeks.

I would have found a way to stay if I liked that job. If I liked that job I would’ve pushed myself to my mental limits to finish college and keep that job at the same time. Heck that job could’ve been a rest from college. A place to get away from it. But I hate that job so I got out as soon as I could.

I want to work. I want enough money to live sort of comfortably. I want to have some tasks to do to give my creativity a rest. I want to be a part of something. But the way that modern corporate run work environments are set up does not give me any of the things I actually want out of a job. And I think that’s the same for millions of people right now. A lot of people would happily spend their lives as a waitress or an Uber driver or a warehouse worker or a farmhand or any other “low skill” job you can possibly think of. But with the way the world works right now those jobs are absolutely miserable. It doesn’t have to be that way. I know because I’ve had a fulfilling part time minimum wage job that I looked forward to going to every week. A job where I was listened to and allowed to sit when I needed to. I miss that job. Especially now since I’ve realized that’s not the standard. It should be. People should look forward to going to work or at the very least not get mild ptsd whenever they set foot into a Walmart.

[msfcatlover]

*points at Jean-Paul Valley* THE MOST DISAPPOINTING THING ABOUT THIS MAN IS THAT HE ISN'T CANONICALLY "The Normal One(TM)"

[milo-melon]

Been really exhausted from work lately hense much more reblogs than anything else will likely continue through the holiday season till drivers ed starts and there's even more kicking my ass so rip to anyone who followed for my rare original content (long venting in tags)

[iamespecter]

Whats your tadc au? :3

Uh- that's too vague of a question, so I'll just list all five- ~~~~~~~~~~~

'The Suspenseful Digital Mystery' AU Status: hiatus

plot:

There are rumors amongst the less fortunate about a mysterious mansion inviting wealthy people, and urging them to bring a plus one for a sophisticated social gathering. There's a lot of weird rules: 1) DON'T say your real name. 2) wear the mask and outfit provided to you. 3) What happens in the mansion, STAYS in the mansion. They even say that by the time midnight strikes and you didn't venture outside the grounds by then, you disappear to god knows where. Thankfully, 6 people thought it's all just a dumb rumor.... right?

'An Unexpected "Reunion"!' AU Status: ongoing (I just have writer's block for Chapter 7-)

plot:

Pom- no. That's not her name anymore. Pauline Agbayani manages to find a way out of the tormenting existence known as 'The Amazing Digital Circus'. Attempting to return to normalcy in her life while figuring out how to find her circus friends, and bringing down the company that brought about her worst experiences in life, she meets an unexpected man with red hair, mismatched eyes, and that grating showman voice she knows all too well... Working a 9 to 5 job in a retail store? What the hell is happening??

'The Marvelous Mechanical Harlequin' AU Status: VERY active

plot:

After the attempt of taking the infamous Puppetmaster's life goes awry due to a stalemate, Pomni, the Last Harlequin, finds herself in a strange position of helping him out a year later on his even stranger mission: Gathering the hearts of crazed Puppets. Things start to change between them when she suffers her first of many deaths, which unbeknownst to her, sets up a domino effect that leads to her discovering something about herself, the man she allies with, and a third party who seems hellbent on capturing her.

'Digital Nightmares' AU Status: semi-active

plot:

Picture this. You find a strange headset that compels you to wear it. Next thing you know, you're in an another world full of monsters, and now you're just as small as you feel. You run, you jump, you duck out of reach, and hide. Repeat. Thankfully, you're no longer alone, for you meet another fellow about the same size as you. Find a way out. Avoid traps and foes. And most of all... Don't give in to the call.

'Circustaker' AU status: under progress lmao

plot:

Pomni wants a harem of hot circus demon girls, so Pomni gets a harem of hot circus demon girls. This is a Helltaker x TADC AU born out of spite, due to the hate against Jesterdoll on ep 3. What better way to fight homophobia with, than making a big wlw polyamory group? :)

I genuinely had no idea what you meant by that question, so here's all five of my current TADC AUs, even the underdeveloped Circustaker one lmao

[randomitemdrop]

you've posted a few ai generated images as items lately, and i'm wondering if that's intentional or not?

Short answer: no, it wasn't. Aside from a few I made when the generators first became publicly available and all the images were gooey messes, they've all been reader-submitted, although I'll admit I didn't catch the snail-boots. Personally I think AI image generators are a more nuanced situation than a lot of opinions I've seen on Tumblr, but given that they can be used so evilly, I'm steering away from them, if only to avoid the Wrath of the Disk Horse.

Long answer, and this is just my take, if you want to really get into it you'll have a much more interesting conversation with the people with devoted AI art blogs instead of me occasionally sharing things people submit:

There have been some major cases of unethical uses for it, but I think it's important to remember why AI image generators are such an issue; data scraping and regurgitating uncredited indie art is bad, but in the case of the snail-boots, it was just a fusion of one dataset of "product photos of boots" and another of "nature photos of snails", which I would say is not depriving anyone of credit or recognition for their work (MAYBE photographers, if you're a professional nature photographer or really attached to a picture you took of a snail one time?) I get the potential misuses of it, but when Photoshop made it easy to manipulate photos, the response was "hmm let's try and use this ethically" instead of "let's ban photo editing software". Like, I'd feel pretty unethical prompting it with "[character name] as illustrated by [Tumblr illustrator desperate for commissions]" or even "[character name] in DeviantArt style", but I'd have a hard time feeling bad for prompting with "product photo of a Transformer toy that turns into the Oscar Meyer Wienermobile". I know there's the question of "normalizing" the services but I think that overestimates how much the techbros running these things care about how everyday consumers use their free products, preferring to put their effort towards convincing companies to hire them to generate images for them, and in that case they respond way better to "here are some ways to change your product so that I would be willing to use it" than to "I will never use your product". For example here's one I just made of "the holy relic department at Big Lots", fusing corporate retail photos and museum storage rooms.

TL/DR: on the one hand I understand the hate that AI gets and it's not something I'm planning on using for any of my creative projects, but on the other hand I think it's overly simplistic to say it's inherently bad and should never be used ever. On the third hand, I really hate participating in arguments over complex ethical philosophy, so I'm just gonna steer clear entirely.

[deathshallbethelastenemy]

where you go, i go (2)

TEEN!gojo x FEM!reader (soulmate AU)

TW⚠️: angst, toji being toji, reader thinks about killing someone, gojo is in his tweaked out enlightenment era soooooo gojo a little creepy and eerie

Part 2 of what you see, i see

She had been going through the motions for the rest of the day, she hadn't even bothered to stop by her school clubs, until she arrived home. A sickly sweet scent of pastries attacked her senses the second she entered. Her house doubled as a bakery for the first floor. It was a popular hang out place for people her age especially for couples. There was a parade of them this time - cheerful couples were already sharing their coffees and sugary pastries.

The universe was laughing at her. It had to be. Why else would there be so many happy couples in the store right now? It was pointing and laughing hysterically on the ground saying: "That's what you get for ignoring me! That's what you get for resenting my gift to you!" Because that's what a soulmate was, a gift. A rare and wonderful gift that no one believed in, except for those who have experienced it themselves, and she had lost it; lost him.

She almost cried on the spot.

Her mother waved gleefully from behind the register, her daughter seldom returned it as she went up the stairs. She dropped her school bag in her room besides her desk and, face first, flopped on her bed.

She closed her eyes. Nothing, there was nothing.

Her lip quivered as tears began to sting her eyes, but she couldn't cry. Not when her mother was expecting her to change and put on an apron and help as she always did after school. She could silently mourn him tonight.

She let out a shaky breath. Did she even have the right to mourn him? She had never met him or talked to him. Everytime she thought of him recently was only to insult him or dismiss him entirely. No, she did not have the right to mourn him and she deserved to feel empty on the inside.

She put on a clean apron and slugged her way down stairs with a smile as she took over her mother's place at the register. Her mom kissed the top of her head and beamed at her with a thumbs up.

She never understood why so many people hated working retail, but now, she did. She had to force a smile and treat every customer kindly, all the while, she was dying on the inside.

A man had come in. Tall and insanely buff, a scar on his mouth. He ordered the cheapest pastry on the menu and handed her a wadded up yen. Her blood turned cold when their fingers brushed.

Her mother quickly took the money away from her as she gave her a quick command to check on the oven in the back.

She swallowed and listened to her mom. Her steps were quick as she pushed the double doors that led to the kitchen, she hugged herself.

It was him. It had to be him. That was the man who killed Gojo Satoru. She reached for a knife and gripped it tight. She should kill him. Her soulmate was dead and he was the reason why. She should try and avenge him.

Sheshouldsheshouldsheshouldsheshould-

The oven blared next to her. Her head snapped to it as the knife clattered on the ground, and with shaky mitted hands she opened the oven, and took out the fresh pastries.

Those were dangerous thoughts; thoughts she never thought she would ever have against anyone. She took off the oven mitts and looked outside the circle window of the kitchen - he was leaving and her mother was watching him like a hawk, even when the bell rang sharply with a muffin in his mouth as he walked outside with the rest of the crowd. She didn't know what possessed her to run after him, but she did. Maybe, all she wanted to know was why he had killed Gojo Satoru. Maybe, she wanted this man to kill her too, so she wouldn't feel empty inside anymore.

A blur of a conversation as the words tumbled out of her mouth: "Why? Why did you kill Satoru?"

She didn't register anything other than his gruff voice, "Ah, he had a soulmate. If I were you I'd keep that information to yourself from now on." Uninterestedly, he continued, "You wouldn't want the Gojo clan to know about you. No doubt, they'll try to marry you off to another member of the clan." and then, kept walking.

She didn't hear the interest in his voice when he said to himself, "But she would be worth a lot of money if I did take her to them." He would negotiate a price first to see if he was right about her being worth any money. He would worry about that later, right now, he had a star plasma vessel to turn in.

A sharp tug on her arm is all that stopped her from running after him again.

"______! What were you thinking?" her mother gritted out as she led her back into the bakery. Her mother's voice is strict and unwavering, "Go to your room."

And she did.

She tossed the apron on her desk and kicked her school bag. How was she supposed to live like this with the rest of her entire life half-full?

A sob violently escaped her.

This was how everyone else in the world lived, she realized.

Aching and alone.

Desperate and searching.

Wanted and unwanted.

Now, she was just like everyone else like she had always wanted. She supposed, she couldn't complain.

She laid in bed, wrapped herself in a blanket - trying to keep warm, but she doubted, she'd ever feel warm again as she cried herself to sleep.

She dreamt about Satoru. Flashes of a long chain, of red, of purple, of blood, of a crowd clapping, of someone wrapped in a white sheet, of a long dark hallway.

The universe was laughing at her again. Why else would it give her dreams about him?

An uneasiness settled into her bones. Someone was watching her. The grim reaper, no doubt wearing the face of her soulmate's assassin. If death wanted her, so be it.

She kept her eyes closed.

She saw herself sleeping soundly in death's gaze. She saw the time pass through her window changing from sundown to night as death continued to watch her intently.

Hours had passed.

00:57:39

She wondered at what specific time the grim reaper would take her.

1:13:01

Did it want her to open her eyes?

1:13:10

Probably.

1:13:15

The grim reaper has been patiently waiting for her.

1:13:17

Why keep death waiting then?

1:13:20

Her eyes fluttered open.

Beautiful, vibrant cerulean blue.

It was not death. It was -

"Satoru," she whispered.

"______," he whispered back.

Satoru was sitting down on the floor extremely close to her bed with his legs crossed while his hands rested neatly on his ankles. There was dry blood on his face and on his white dress shirt.

Her mouth moved but no sound came.

"You were crying," he said as he caressed her cheek soothing his thumb along the trail of stained lines that her dried tears had left, "alot."

So, he had seen everything.

She put her hand over his and gently rubbed circles.

Satoru scooted closer to her bed, "I didn't like seeing you cry," his hand trailed up to her scalp, "or frown," and gently ran his fingers through her hair.

He laid his head down on her bed and stared at her with those vibrant, sparkling eyes; eyes that could see everything she could never see.

She touched his cheek gently, "I didn't like not feeling you."

Her whole body shivered. Satoru was here, in front of her, and she was still cold.

"Are you still cold?"

She nodded.

Never letting go of her, he kicked off his shoes and climbed under the blanket with her. He wrapped his legs around hers as her arms wrapped under his uniform jacket.

With his hand still tangled in her hair, he said, "Better?"

His heartbeat had returned to her. They were beating in unison again.

"Better," she hummed. "You?" She asked.

His lips pressed softly on her forehead, "Much better." He tugged her in closer into his chest.

She smiled.

She was warm again.

@whatamidoing89 @mr-underhills-things

Part 1: what you see, i see

Part 3: you know i adore you

Part 4: i'm crazier for you

Part 5: baby, you're the life of the party

Part 6: something's made your eyes go cold

[potatobugxo]

Hey so ive been having a rough day as I was yelled at by customersn at my retail job, can i get Angelperhaps seeing his genderneutral s/o getting yelled at by an unruly hotel guest and standing up for them and possibly comforting them? If you cant i totally understand, thanks ❤️

yes of course!!! i work in retail too people are so stupid fr... take care of yourself ok?? love you very much <33 warnings: reader gets yelled at, swearing, hurt to comfort

"a-ah, my bad..." angel perks up as he hears you apologize to someone across the room. the hotel had grown more lively with guests and sinners, and handling guests' purchases was your designated job. you were crouched on the floor, scooping up a tray of food you had dropped.

"what the hell? can't even get decent service at a place like this," the guest, a demon much taller than you grumbled, hands on his hips as he watched you scramble to pick up what was presumed to be his meal. "i am really sorry," you stand back up, tray in hand, and angel's hair standing on end when he realizes how shaky your hands are. "i-i can get a replacement for it right away-" "don't need a fuckin' replacement!" the sinner barks in your face, slapping the tray out of your hands and making you wince. "need you to do your fuckin' job right! they not payin' you enough, huh? think you can just waste shit like this!" "hey, asshole!" you and the sinner both turn to see angel dust marching toward you, his pink pupils glowing an angry shade of magenta. "listen up, fucker, they're doin' their best," angel jabs a finger into the sinner's chest, causing the demon to scowl at him. you shift anxiously on your feet behind angel, swiping the tears that had been forming in your eyes away with your arm. "so what if they dropped a tray? it's just some fuckin' food, not like they took a shit in it and served it to you," angel sneered. "if you lookin' to redeem yourself this ain't how you treat other people. so apologize or get the fuck outta here!" "fuck you!" the sinner snaps back, unable to come up with further retaliation before storming out of the lobby. angel glares at him as he departs, and only turns to you once the sinner slams the hotel doors shut. "angel, you didn't have to do that," you insist, voice hushed. angel places his four hands on your arms and smiles at you. "toots, you can't be takin' shit like that, okay?" he assures in a gentle tone. "i'm just tired," you inform him. "i'm not used to so many guests being here... looks like they all don't listen when charlie says to be polite to others." "that's for fuckin' sure," angel spits in the direction the sinner had fled in. "hey, don't beat yourself up about it, alright? i'll help you clean up this mess." he gestures toward the tray and scattered food that has stained the carpet. "okay," you sniffle a bit. "anyone else been treatin' you like that mothafucka?" angel inquires, cocking an eyebrow. you shake your head. "good. cuz i'd really hate to backslide on this redemption bullshit by shootin' some lowlife scumbag." you giggle at his remark and he grins, pulling you in for a four-armed hug.

[cr4yolaas]

mezzo forte — non-confrontational

track 7: pity party | masterlist | track 9: homesick v.2

heavy, purple bags weigh his eyes down. it's the first thing she notices when she swings open the door with a little too much force. he's exhausted, that much made obvious by the droopiness on his face and the unkempt nature of his hair. for a moment, she forgets why she came there.

he doesn't make a move to let her in. instead, he rests the entirety of his weight on the doorframe, the old painted wood creaking ever so slightly beneath the pressure. it's as if her presence is a hindrance to him. her feet plant themselves on the floor in retaliation to his foreign detachment, and slowly, the confusion and anger that motivated her visit come crawling back in the form of pinpricks clinging onto her spine.

"hajime," she mutters, and the forgoing of his usual nickname makes him falter just a bit. "what happened that night? at the reunion party?"

he shifts his stance from one leg to the other. he doesn't know what to say.

"you and tooru have ignored me since, and it- i don't know, i just feel lost. i don't know what happened. and i hate that both of you are hiding it from me," she rambles, and he can tell she's upset.

truthfully, he's horrified. he doesn't want to tell her the truth -- if it even is the truth -- but he knows that nothing will happen if he doesn't say anything.

"who have your songs been for this whole time?" he asks, his voice cracking and his hands shaky. the creases on her forehead only increase tenfold, and he's scared. a heavy sigh falls from her lips.

"it's always been you, haji," she heaves out, unloading a burden that had hung heavy on her shoulders for years upon years. "they were all for you. i don't- i don't understand how you didn't see it. and i feel stupid for not making it more obvious."

he pauses. his mouth hangs agape and with every shallow breath he takes, a bit of his pride and confidence seeps out. disbelief weighs heavily in his heart and overpowers every other rational sense that's kept him going for so long.

"it can't be me. it really, really can't."

it comes out as a whisper, his words nearly lost to the gentle summer breeze. she hears it as a rejection -- an admission that she cannot write syrupy, silly melodies for him, because he cannot satisfy the sickly sweet sensation rotting her heart. she loathes how aloof he seems to be about it.

something bubbles up within her throat. she's scared that, if she so much as breathes another breath, she'll say something she doesn't mean. so, instead, with an ache in her chest and a pounding in her head, she walks away -- because she cannot bear to face the end of the road that she's been running on for so long.

he doesn't chase after her, nor does he depart from the scene. hajime maintains his posture against the door. guilt gnaws violently at the sinew between his bones and every ligament that ensures his stability, and he swears he can feel the pitter-patter of his heart diminish into something slow and scattered.

hajime is terribly non-confrontational when it comes to her -- that much had been a consistent truth since they met, in their little suburban neighborhood at the unripe age of 7 -- and he curses his own weakness for destroying what he'd been holding onto so desperately.

♪ i’m lowk rushing thru this bc i’m too eager to end mezzo forte i’m sorry 😭😭 i love it but i canr wait for it to end if that makes sense

♪ yn got nothing done in the whole week of no contact with the other two. she was quite literally paralyzed with fear she couldn’t finish any of her work

♪ yachi thrives on severe retail therapy habits if u couldnt tell

♪ msby 4 was lowk listening from the hallway they love the chismis but also they r actually invested in this relationship

♪ i think we might get the triple update tn 😭😭

taglist: @zumicho @causenessus @guitarstringed-scars @yuminako @chemiru @sunnyskiezzzz @httpsivy @itsdragonius @theycallmenanamisgirl @wyrcan @19calicos @hunnies4bunnies @mawenskiblue @diorzs @loverlunaire @mfcherry @solaqes @myromanempiree @brithedemonspawn @corvid007 @lilchubbyyy

[rafyki]

Part two of the Goth! Nico/Surfer! Percy!! @neo-kid-funk liked it so much I couldn't not post another part so soon!! That's what your art does to me!! Pure inspiration!!!

This time it's Percy's turn to be a huge loser with a huge crush lmao

Part one, if you haven't read it~

~~~

Percy threw himself on his beach towel, trying his best not to spill his precious drink even in his excitement.

“Annabeth, he smiled at me!”

His friend looked up from the huge book she was reading, a skeptic but fond look in her eyes.

“Percy, he works in retail, smiling at customers is literally his job”.

Percy groaned, took a sip of his drink - not alcoholic, but maybe it could make him forget his huge absurd crush on a boy he didn't even know.

The prettiest boy you've ever met though, his brain usefully supplied. What did it even matter that they didn't really know each other and that they had exchanged perhaps a total of twenty words to each other? Nothing, not when said boy had the prettiest features Percy had ever seen, the most enchanting eyes, the deepest and most beautiful voice, and the most charming shade of pink coloring his nose and cheeks. And, finally today Percy could add to the list that he even had the softest and cutest honest smile ever - because Percy could tell the difference between a “customers smile” and an honest one, and the way Nico had smiled today? It couldn't have been anything but honest, and it had made warmth bloom into Percy's stomach, made his heart grow ten sizes.

“No, Annabeth”, he said, at the cost of sounding like a petulant little child. “He smiled for real! He even laughed a little!”

“Did he?”

“I'm telling you he did!”

She seemed to consider it for a long moment. Percy waited with as much patience as he could muster for her opinion. He could always count on Annabeth being horribly and unapologetically honest with him; he could definitely trust her to be the one to offer him a cruel but needed reality check to bring him back to earth.

She had been the main witness of Percy’s fall into the hopeless (or maybe not so hopeless?) rabbit hole that was his crush for the kiosk boy, had been listening to him ranting on and on about him for probably almost a month now, and had been dragged on the beach way too many times against her will for Percy to ignore her valid as always opinion.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean he likes you, Seaweed-brain, you know that, right?”, she said, and Percy knew, but his heart fell anyway. “Still”, she added, and Percy couldn’t help but perk up at the tone of her voice. He knew that tone - it was the tone she used when she was about to say something optimistic even against her better judgment. 

“I guess it is weird for him to smile like that at customers - at least, I’ve never seen him do it - and we do spend a whole lot of time on this beach and at the kiosk”.

She said the last part with just a tiny little bit of annoyance - but Percy knew her well enough to know that she would forgive him eventually.

“I need your support, Annabeth, you know that!”

“You could take Grover with you next time”.

“I did once, remember? He was even more nervous than me”, Percy said. “Not exactly the best wingman”.

Annabeth rolled her eyes at him. “It’s not like you’re doing much but staring at him and daydream anyway”.

Well, that was a low blow, but true.

“That’s not true”, he still said, just for the sake of it. It earned a raised eyebrow and the most skeptical expression he had ever seen on his friend’s face.

“Percy”, she said, slowly as if she was talking to a kid. “Showing off your surfing skills and hoping he’ll find you so incredibly hot he’ll fall on your knees for you is not doing something about this”.

Ouch. Alright, maybe Annabeth’s reality checks were a little too honest and harsh sometimes.

“You can’t know it won’t work”, Percy said.

She was right, of course - she always was, and Percy hated and adored her for it. 

He sighed, setting aside his drink and looking at the kiosk, his eyes finding Nico right away with practiced experience. He was serving someone, and Percy’s first thought was I wonder if he’s smiling like that at them too - which was stupid, and he knew that too, but knowing it didn’t really change anything. Percy was perfectly aware of how ridiculous he was being, but despite what Annabeth might have said about it, knowledge wasn’t always all that mattered.

He sighed, forcing himself to look away.

“What do you think I should do?”

“Well, you really only have two options”, Annabeth said.

It wasn’t exactly hard to guess what she was referring to.

“Either giving up or finding the courage of asking him out?”.

“Precisely”.

“Ugh”, Percy groaned. “You’re not much more helpful than Grover, you know?”

Annabeth laughed. “You know I’m right, Seaweed-brain”.

“I hate you”.

“Hating me won’t make you date the boy of your dreams”.

The boy of your dreams - oh, he really was, wasn’t he? Percy didn’t even know when exactly he had started to be unable to think about Nico, to want nothing more than to talk to him and get to know him for real; things had degenerated pretty fast - one moment Nico was just the cute goth boy working at the beach, and then the next he was Percy’s newest obsession.

It was weird - Nico wasn’t exactly his type; he seemed to be all dark and sharp edges, cloaked in black like he was constantly trying to hide in the shadows even under the bright sun. He looked like the kind of person that kept everyone at arm's length, and it only made Percy want to get closer and closer.

He realized his eyes had turned to him again, following his every move. He was talking to his friends, his words accompanied by wide hand gestures - Percy had noticed this habit of his before; it was adorable, really. Percy wanted to talk to him and see it from up close.

“He’s so pretty Annabeth, I’m gonna die”.

That was probably the thousandth time Annabeth had heard him saying that, so the roll of her eyes was definitely justified.

“Then go talk to him and ask him out”.

Percy groaned. She made it sound so easy.

He got up, took his surfing board again. “Maybe”, he said. “But first I’m going to see if my plan of being too hot to resist is gonna work”.

“You’re ridiculous”.

“Thanks, I didn’t know that”.

Annabeth rolled her eyes again and went back to her book. Who even preferred reading a book on a beach instead of going into the water? Percy would never understand that.

He walked towards the water with his mind still fixed on the same thought. He wondered if Nico liked the ocean - maybe they could enjoy it together, maybe Percy could teach him how to surf.

Maybe. If he could actually find the courage of asking him out.

[ruewrote]

𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘 𝑖𝑡.

PAIRING: rafe cameron x gn!reader WARNINGS: rude customer, fighting & strong language GENRE: angst to fluff SONG INSPIRATION: wash by bon iver WORD COUNT: 756

navigation | ask | outer banks masterlist

today was certainly not your day.

starting it off by being late for work was of course not ideal, silently hating your boss for making you come in so early after opening.

the catching up wasn't even the worst part of it since you were used to rush hour, but having a new hire fumbling every five minutes didn't really help your patience.

so on top of being late, doing the usual morning rush, having to practically retrain your co-worker everything. your boss decides to be a dick and rush you on your lunch break, not being able to eat half of your sandwich then you were back at it again.

right now you were on your last straw. trying to keep up with some stuck up kooks long ass coffee order.

the sigh of relief you let out after finishing it almost wiped you out, taking so much of your time and concentration. you turned around putting on your best fake smile.

"tiffany!" you announced, eyes scanning the room landing on the short blonde whose nails were aggressively tapping against her phone screen.

"oh that's me!" she giggled as she wobbled forward in her tall heels, grabbing the drink off of the counter and taking a sip of it.

"oh my god who made this is disgusting! this isn't what i asked for."

"excuse me ma'am that was me and i made it exactly how you ordered it." you spoke to her, clenching your teeth praying to the gods that she wouldn't test you.

"hm no it isn't, you wanna try?" she said whilst taking off the lid off the drink to then throw the contents inside in your face, going to leave after doing that.

leaving you stood there in the middle of the jammed shop, everyone silent and looking at you.

you just laughed, tongue pressed to your cheek, tilting your head back as you ripped your apron off, running out of the shop after her.

tiffany clearly didn't hear the hurried footsteps behind her, but she definitely felt you turning and pushing her to the ground. her phone breaking against the concrete.

you dropped to your knees, straddling her hips getting a few punches in. her crying grew louder when you stopped and got off of her.

"i don't give a fuck who you are. respect your retail workers!" you pointed down at her then ran off to your car trying to ignore the fact that everyone had been staring at you.

tears welled up in your eyes as you banged on the door of your boyfriends house, hoping that he'd be in.

you heard the muffled talking getting closer and louder to the door before it opened. revealing an angry rafe on the phone, seeing you made it turn into worry, him ending the call grabbing your hands helping you into his home.

"sweetheart, what happened?" he questioned, but you just fell into his embrace, sobbing so hard against the material of his shirt.

even with you being a sticky mess, he wrapped his arms around you bringing you even closer to him not caring about his clothes, only you.

"shh it's alright, you're okay. i'm here."

after a little while of him holding you rafe brought you to the bathroom, your crying now subsided. he convinced you to stay the night with him as he ran you a bath.

helping you strip yourself of your clothing, holding your hand helping you into the water. leaving you so it could soak off the majority of the dry splotches.

"you wanna tell me what went down, love?" his words soft as he sat himself beside you on the floor of the bathroom.

"i... i don't even know. it all happened so quickly..." you told him everything about your day from the beginning to now. he grabbed a soft sponge and soap, gently grasping one of your arms getting to work on making them clean as he listened.

"so...it sounds like she deserved it." you laughed at that, feeling an invisible weight be lifted off of your shoulders.

"i guess so."

he then moved onto washing your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp making you physically melt into him.

for the rest of your bath you laughed and joked, talking about everything you were gonna do after you were out of the bathroom. almost forgetting what happened.

you were so glad that you had someone as amazing as rafe, knowing that you never had to struggle as long as he was around.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

© ruewrote 2024.

[spinji]

The Izuku fast food worker is surficing again, and i still think it's funny how no matter where Izuku is working Katsuki will just NOT let go of him.

Retail? He'll come back everyday and ask for a smile, he doesn't even care for the food. Teaching? He sneaks in to bring Izuku lunch. Journalist? Katsuki gives interviews for him only. Hero work? He's always 5cm beside Izuku, it's the last time he ever lets someone take him away.

It is adorable that he will follow him literally everywhere but GOD I hate Burger King making the fast food Deku joke real. Hot take; it was never funny and it's honestly kind of horrfying that the real world is encouraging this idea that quirkless people are worthless and can't go into hero work, or even any impressive or successful work period. Like- some people didn't even hesitate demoting Izuku to a minimum wage job after he lost OFA.

I'm not fond of comparing quirklessness to any real world disability because the metaphor doesn't really work as much as some people insist it does, but I gotta raise an eyebrow at people who just took the fictional bigotry from the story while ignoring the effort to both prove that it's bad and prove it wrong.

[moonpedri]

does he know.

summary: you love gavi and you're happy in your relationship with him. but for some reason you're the moth and pedri, his best friend, is the flame that pulls you in.

pairing: pedri x reader

genre: angst, smut and a sprinkle of fluff

warnings: cheating (we do not support!), phone s*x, masturbating, mentions of genitals lmao, cursing

word count: 3.3k

a/n: this idea came to me months ago when i heard the song 'moth to a flame' by the weeknd while working lmao. and when you work in retail, you have a lot of time to think :D. i do not condone cheating in any way, i think it's vile and disgusting, but 🫣😵‍💫 i couldn't help myself with this one. enjoy!!<3

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"Hey, everything alright, sugar?"

You hiccup, "N-no. Can you come over?"

"Be there in 10." He hangs up immediately, giving you no time to even thank him. You take a look at your phone again. Your vision is blurry with tears in your eyes.

The call lasted a record time of 7 seconds. That's how long it took for you to convince him to come over. The occasion was usually a different one, but you needed his comfort more than anything right now.

You look at the contact picture, Pedri was smiling at the camera. No, he was smiling at you. The thought alone puts a smile on your face as well, but the events only hours ago catch up to you and you almost break out into tears again.

You and Pablo fought, and you normally never do. Dating Pablo Gavi was no easy task, but you loved the challenge. You loved how easy it was with him sometimes and how difficult it could get too. That's what made a relationship a relationship.

He treats you right and you feel incredibly loved by him. Maybe that's why it irked you the wrong way when one of his female friends got a little too close to him today, when your mutual friend group went mini-golfing. It only got worse when he reciprocated her actions.

"It's actually super easy, just hold the handle this way.", he explained to her, all the while you stood behind them, seeing red. She was shamelessly oggling at his biceps in front of you. In a fit of jealousy, you decided to just ignore him the entire rest of the day. Looking back at it, you may have spoiled the mood for everyone but you didn't care. You could have made a scene as well and ruined the fun straight upc but you decided to do it silently instead. Which again, was absolutely stupid, because just telling Pablo would have done the job.

He's a sweetheart, you know he never meant it that way. He never looses his temper with you either, he just calmly listens to you and talks to you; both of you finding a compromise to the problem - that's just how things between you two worked.

And that makes everything so much worse, because today he did lose his temper with you. He screamed at you, and you screamed back. Mean things where exchanged inside the car. You really don't want to know what a sight you two made.

It ended with him pulling over, after you yelled at him to stop the car. You slammed the door shut and stormed off, expecting him to follow you. He never did. Instead he raced off, leaving you in the dust.

In retrospect, you did it to yourself. Doesn't mean it didn't hurt though.

The way home took you a little more than 30 minutes and once you were inside, the tears began flooding down your face.

You hated feeling like this and you hated the fact that it was your own fault even more. You tried calling Gavi multiple times, but he didn't answer. And after an hour, you decided to stop, it was hopeless anyways. You would have to spend this awful night alone tonight, you thought.

And if God wasn't on your side that evening, the Devil definitely was. It was as if he was right by your sight, whispering sinful words into your ear. And foolishly, you listened to him.

You decided to call Pedri.

It sounds wrong, and maybe it is, but it certainly never felt that way with him. Risqué, you would describe the relationship you two have. At least that's what you always told Pedri; you liked the way the word sounded. A little french, no?

He's your boyfriend's best friend. They're teammates and Pablo told you multiple times that he even considers him a brother.

A brother you secretly slept with.

In your defense, you met him and slept with him before you and Pablo were even talking to each other. It was useless though, because you continued.

You didn't mean for it to happen, but like bananas turn to the sun and moths to a flame, you turned to Pedri.

If you're the moth, then Pedri is the flame that pulls you in and burns you. But he never lets it come so far, because he always pulls back before you can burst into flames.

This thing between you and Pedri started about a year ago, months before you even knew Pablo.

You met coincidentally one day at a match of his. Your little brother was a huge FC Barcelona fan and you gifted him front-row tickets for his 12th birthday.

They won that day and some of the players decided to sign autographs and take pictures with their loyal Culers.

Pedri was one of them.

Your brother squealed when the 19 year old football player was near you. He signed his jersey with a chuckle. "You're my idol, Pedri! Thank you so much.", your brother said politely, the excitement in his voice very evident.

"Thank you, big man. Your support helped a lot today.", Pedri said gratefully.

He looked at you then and you had admit that in person he looked even better. His big brown eyes worked like hypnosis on you and the sun did nothing to hide his beautiful tan either.

It seemed like he wanted to sign your shirt as well. You wanted to decline, you didn't need his sign but your brother beat you to it.

"My sister thinks you're handsome."

To this very day you don't know if you should thank him for introducing Pedri into your life or be angry at him for humiliating you like that in front of him.

Pedri's eyes widened. He turned to your brother mischievously, "Oh, is that so? Is she a fan as well or...does she just like my face?"

"Yes, but not as big as me of course. She and her friend talked about you on the phone sometimes. It's sooo annoying." Your brother complains nonchalantly, like Pedri was his best-bud and they just catch up with each other.

You grab your around your little brother's head and pull it close to your side, hushing him, "Anyways, good game.", you tell Pedri with a wide smile. You make a move to just leave, when Pedri holds up his pen.

"Let me sign your shirt."

You press your lips together but give in eventually, hoping that he'll just quickly move on to his other fans. He bids you goodbye with a wink and a ruffle to your brothers head.

It's only later at home that you realized that he left his phone number on your shirt. You still have it stowed away in the safety of your closet. And it will probably stay there forever.

You texted Pedri the next day. After all you couldn't come off as too easy, right?

Talking with him came easy. Conversations flowed like water and the topics just never stopped. It felt good to be with him, you felt like yourself. He listened to your every word and he made you feel special.

The two of you dated around for 5 months. You would lie if you said that these months weren't one of the most beautiful times of your life so far, but also the most hurtful ones.

Pedri travelled a lot with you, spoiled you rotten to no end and the sex(!!!). You genuinely liked his presence.

You wore your heart on your sleeve, you practically gave it to him. You two acted like a couple, like you were utterly and completely in love.

Maybe you were. Maybe it was just your imagination, because a guy showed so much interest in you for the first time.

But you two were never officially together.

Pedri never asked you to be his girlfriend. He always brought you everywhere, yet he never introduced you as his special someone.

You still wonder if Pedri never felt anything for you. Why he hesitated so much. It broke your heart, when you told him one day that you had enough. Of course he immediately understood what you meant. And the little hope you had of him finally making the last step, diffused when he said nothing more. He didn't fight for you, he let you go.

It hurt you, but for some reason it didn't break you like you initially thought it would. In fact, you and Pedri still stayed in contact. You befriended some of his friends in the time you two dated, it would've been awkward. And like you mentioned, being with Pedri was easy.

If you two could be lovers, then you definitely can be friends as well.

Things between you ended in September. In November you met Gavi.

It came a bit to a surprise to you, the wound didn't completely heal yet and Gavi was a year younger than you; you didn't go for younger guys. But Pablo was gentle, he put a band-aid over it and in January the two of you started dating.

That's also when things between you and Pedri started to become...different. In the time between the break-up and the start of your new relationship, he treated you like a good friend would. Pedri made you feel at ease and less hurt over the whole ordeal. He never hinted at anything more. The moment your relationship became public though, he started acting odd.

Suddenly he was everywhere. He stood and sat next to you whenever your little group of friends met. When you were at the beach, his eyes practically undressed you behind his shades. When you watched their training sessions, he lingered by your side too long.

No one noticed because you and Pedri always got along. You were friends. Only some knew that there may have been more, but no one knew for sure - especially not Gavi.

The real culprit however was you. Because all the while, you never said anything. You never rejected Pedri, you did nothing to push him away. It was just not in you to do that. Like it was coded in your DNA.

The cheating however started with a call one night. In a state of boredom you decided to browse through your gallery and organize it, when you stumbled across old pictures of you and Pedri.

In one you were cuddling, in the next one you were kissing. The pictures got gradually more indecent and you couldn't help but think back to when you took them. You laid on your back, naked cleavage only slightly visible. Sweat collected itself on your hairline. Next to you was Pedri, sucking on your neck, only the back of of his head visible.

You swiped right. Another intimate picture, but this time it was a mirror selfie. Not much was visible thanks to the curtains that dimmed the room, but you sat on top of him. Your nipples perked up. Pedri's hands grabbed onto your hips harshly, his head was tilted back.

You remember taking this picture very well. Pedri always said he didn't like taking them, he complained when you took this very one. In hindsight you believe he did. He posed so well on camera, you know he must have enjoyed it secretly.

You also remember how good he felt inside of you. He always managed to find the right spot to make you squeal and squirm around, stretching your cervix in all the right ways.

Heat began building up in your lower area and you couldn't help but lower your hands under your pants. The moment you cupped your vulva, goosebumps spread all over your body. It's been a long time since you touched yourself.

Being horny alters something in your brain. All at once, you can't think rationally. Essentially, you just think with your fucking dick. It just overcomes you - like a switch.

Rationally thinking you should have called your boyfriend. One look at the picture on your phone told you that that wasn't what you wanted.

A few taps later and the phone rings.

"__. It's one in the morning, is everything okay?", he answers the phone. The sleepiness in his voice was evident.

"Yeah, I just-.", a sigh escapes your mouth. Your ring finger touched around the entrance of your vagina and you can't even formulate a proper sentence. Nothing that you did right now was morally right, it was absolutely impromper. You didn't know how you were going to explain your late night call to Pedri either.

But he knew you so well. He recognized the tone in your voice immediately.

"__", his voice was hoarse. It did nothing to ease your pleasure, no, it only worsened it. "I think you got the wrong number."

"No, I don't.", you retorted.

He sounded troubled, "You should call Pablo. You shouldn't hav-"

"No, I wanted you.", you say as you add another finger to circle around your vagina. You're so wet already and so sensitive. A moment of silence passes and you press your thighs together. You didn't have the time to argue around.

Something needed to be done.

"I just found an old picture of us in my phone. You know, the ones in bed you didn't like. And I just remembered,", you closed your eyes, "I just, Pedro please do something."

You heard him shuffle on the other end.

"Fuck, what are you doing right now?"

And so he joins your little spiel.

You opened your legs and started rubbing your clitoris, "Touching myself."

"Where?"

Pedri's voice, now a lot more demanding, was still raspy from sleep and you began rubbing a bit faster. "My clit. Wish it was you", you croaked out. You started getting louder.

Pedri curses, "M'getting hard. Fuck."

You imagined what he must look like right now, lying in his bed, pants pulled down and stroking his dick desperately. You whimpered at the thought.

You loved his dick.

Honestly penises never really appealed to you objectively; they're ugly. They definitely felt better than they looked and if someone asked, you wouldn't say they were a man's nicest body part. You still liked them though.

Pedri, however, had one of the prettiest ones you have ever seen (not that you saw many). Everything from his girth to his tip to his color was so perfect. You loved sitting between his legs, crawling at his muscular thighs, while his dick was in your mouth.

A moan escaped your mouth, "Your cock always felt so good. So pretty."

You wondered if Pedri imagined you naked as well. If his thoughts were as filthy as yours were. Surely, they must have been. "Fuck, baby, I thought about your pussy so much."

"Yeah?"

"Hmm, always so good for me. No one compares."

You could here the slick sound of him pumping his dick through the phone, it was lewd. So dirty and so wrong, but you never felt better.

Rubbing your clit was not enough anymore, you needed your fingers inside of you. The sound filled your entire bedroom and you held the phone closer between your legs. "Pedro.", you moan his name. You wanted him know how he made you feel, how your body reacted just at the thought of him.

"You sound so wet, princess, just for me?"

"Yes, only you." You started kneading your boob too, imagining it to be his hand instead. "Ahh.", you cry as you hit that special spot. Pedri always managed to find it. May it be with his dick, his fingers or, your favorite, his tongue - hot and wet. He made you feel things you didn't think a human could feel.

The call didn't go on for long. You taunted and teased each other for only a little longer. Words became more slurred until the only thing left was the lewd sounds of you two moaning and whimpering into each other's ears.

You were close. Your fingers were still rapidly pushing back and forth, until everything came to a halt. You couldn’t breathe.

Your back archs backwards and your fingers were clutching at the sheets, as heat overcame your body and your orgasm washed over you. You're vaguely aware of Pedri grunting into the phone as well - too lost in your own pleasure.

And then it slowly fades away.

Suddenly you're hyper-aware of everything, as your consciousness trickled back. Your chest heaves up and down heavily.

You stared at the ceiling, guilt starting to consume you all of a sudden. You felt horrible, to say the least.

Pedri must have felt the same way, you believed. Heavy breathing was the only thing you heard on his end, when you spoke up, "Don't get me wrong. This was...amazing.", you started, searching for words. "But Pablo can't know. This shouldn't have happened, I'm sorry, I don't know what overcame me."

It took Pedri a moment to answer your word-vomit. "It's fine,__. There are always two involved, right? Let's just forget about it." The guilt in his voice was evident too, Gavi was his best friend after all.

You thought that settled it. A one-time mistake.

One time turned to two times and two times turned to multiple more calls at night, sometimes while Pablo slept next to you.

You kept the pictures of you two, and your boyfriend's bed was not the only bed you have spent your night at anymore. And he wasn't the only one spending his nights in yours either.

Just like right now.

The ringing of the doorbell rips you out of your thoughts. Pedri actually manages to be at your door in 8 minutes.

He engulfes you in a hug the moment he sees your tear-struck face. "Talk to me, what happened?", he mumbles against your hair.

You sit on your bed when you tell him of your fight with Pablo. Your stupidity that ruined everything. Pedri sits and listens intently to your worries. Occasionally he caresses your hand or hair.

"I didn't think he would get so angry with me.", you sob.

Pedri smiles at you with warm eyes. In a moment of weakness you think about what would have happened if you stayed with Pedri. Would Pedri have acted the same way?

"W-Would you have done the same?"

The question lingers in the air for a moment. You can't blame yourself for asking. Not right now, when you feel so powerless. And you can't blame Pedri for his silence either. After all, the lines are blurred already, he has to be careful with his words.

"I don't know. Probably not.", he says.

Pedri knows you good enough by now. The look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to. You were like an open book to him.

You insinuated at more, at something possible in the future. One word and you'll be his. But he shuts you down. "He's good for you.", he says then. "I see the way he makes you feel, he truly loves you,__. You deserve that. Don't worry."

He tells to you stay with Gavi; he looks you dead in the eye, while saying it. It annoys you a bit that after all this time, he still behaves the same. But he is aware of that. Because when you need him, he's always just one call away. That's all he is and may ever be.

And Pedri knows, that you are loyal to him. Your heart lies with him; in his arms.

He looks at your vulnerable state, at your glossy eyes watching him. Oh yes, your heart truly lies with him.

Like a moth to a flame, he pulls you in. And like a flame, he's fickle but destructive. And once the moth gets too close to him, it burst into flames.

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© moonpedri - DO NOT copy, translate or post my work anywhere without my permission!

[felswritingfire]

Homelander x Chaotic! Hyper Fem!Reader

The Homelander brainrot is real and I hate it with my whole being. I want this man dead, he's so pathetic. Anyway, I haven't watched The Boys but I'm hooked on his character thanks to falling down the rabbit hole with Character.Ai and all the talented writers for The Boys fandom, like? Absolutely scrumptious works. Also I just really wanted to write for a chaotic reader, the hyper fem part came after lmao

TW: This was written with a AFAB reader in mind so there's descriptions of Reader wearing a skirt, no pronouns specified; Homelander's creepiness is considerably toned down for this, but he does break into reader's apartment and actively stalks them; Reader says some saucy stuff; Cussing; Homelander has a panic attack/mental break down; Reader is a horny virgin; Age Gap, it's only mentioned once or twice, but it's still there and prevalent; Gen Z humor- reader is a Gen Z baby, they're in their early 20s

"You didn't tell me that Homelander had a slutty ass waist." The words caught him off guard. They were whispered. Somewhere in the crowd. His eyes fought to stay glued onto the press speaker, his smile twitching ever so slightly.  The comment had hung in his head, floating around like a phantom, even as he took the stage and did his speech perfectly. Like always. He preens as the people clap and cheer for him.  Then the voice chirps out, in the safety of the cheering and the noise: "Homelander? More like Sluttylander, am I right?" He hears a scoff after that, zeroing in on the conversation now: two women. No older than their mid 20s. "Hey, I mean that respectfully." "You know he's like 20 years older than you, right?" "I'll bend him over and make him call me daddy. I'm not a coward." A cackle. He had scanned the crowd while keeping a smile plastered on his lips. He was curious what foul mouth little shit was talking. Until his gaze lands on… you.  You look like the cat that got the cream as you look at your friend who has to hold onto you for support as she giggles and laughs. Your bright eyed gaze moves from her back to him just to tense as you catch his gaze. "Um," you elbow her- Renae- to get her attention and she giggles before she looks and she's freezing too. "He isn't looking at us is he?" She shrugs. "I don't know…" she trails off. You squint before covering your mouth with your hands, talking just loud enough for Renae to hear you but no one else. "Blink twice if you can hear us." It was a joke. There's no way- And then he's blinking. Once. Twice.  "Oh bitch-tits." You want to scream, grabbing Renae's wrist, pushing through the crowd. "Fuck, dude, this is going to be my thirteenth reason, I swear to fuck-"  He watches the two of you go. He shouldn't be interested. You're just some snot nosed kid. But… how you spoke, the chaotic-ness of it all. The way the light caught your hair, the curves of your body, the way that skirt flares up as you scurry away... he's intrigued to say the least…

💫 Homelander wasn't normally so… interested in the general public, but he had been quick to commit your face and voice to memory. He had actually stumbled upon you, finding out you worked at some high-end retail job. You dealt with snooty people and all the while kept up that pretty little customer service smile despite the clear signs of barely concealed frustration searing under your skin. He could smell the heat of your blood and watched you through the building's walls when you went on break and sat down stiffly, just to scream into your hands. It started out as something funny because he found your misery amusing and then the descent into madness started.

💫 It was like he went through the five stages of grief. At first he had convinced himself that he keeps watching you out of sheer amusement. And then he started to take in more pieces of you: how you took care of things you treasure; how you cared and cooed at the plants that were in your house; how you talked to that damn fish that your treasured so much; your little mannerisms- things he started to find… cute. Then it was denile: no he didn't find you cute he found you amusing. He laughed when you seethed about your toast burning; how you had a breakdown as soon as you got off work because the crushing weight of living in a capitalistic society came crashing down on you; how you talked to yourself like you were having a full blown conversation with another person- you were amusing. And then came the realization and then rage: how dare you make him feel like this? You were just a sniveling little thing. He was a god. How dare you? And then came acceptance. He was… casual when he accepted it. Like all the turmoil had fallen off his shoulders. He was watching you, taking in how you nurtured your "plant children", how you talked to them and wiped the dust off their leaves. It made his heart flutter.

💫 After that, his casual viewings become much more of a time investment as he pays closer and closer attention to you. Every waking moment he has when he's not busy juggling the press and Vought, is spent watching you. Taking in information and storing it in his brain for safe keeping: what you like to eat; your favorite type of plant; your dream vacation; what type of fish you have (you have a betta. He searched them up. He learned all about them to feel closer to you). 

💫 Soon enough, observing isn't enough. He starts to go into your apartment when you're not home, looking at the coziness of your space. Taking in the scent and looking at your plants and your Betta fish that flares his gills at him. It makes him snort in amusement. How cute. He'll lay on your bed, shoving his face into your pillows and inhaling deeply, moaning in contentment. 

💫 He also starts to "coincidentally" run into you on the streets. He finds it so funny each time you gawk at him. A "holy fuck!" Leaving you as you gesture wildly, "it's fucking Homelander!" 

○ He's not too keen on your potty mouth, but he supposes he can let it slide. He's just as bad.

💫 He smiles his charming little smile as he'll make small talk with you, his hands on his hips as he takes you in. He loves knowing how much stronger he is than you and he has to fight hard to keep from popping a boner. You're so fun to talk to, you say the most out of pocket things:

"Yeah, like, almost got stabbed by a homeless man today. Like, 0/10 would not recommend." You said, looking at your nails. Frowning about the nail polish already chipping. "Yeah, well, not many people put 'being stabbed' at the top of their list of things to happen to them." He replies with a laugh, moving closer to you, taking in that mellow perfume you wear. "I mean, I'm down for knife play, but I'm a classy slut. You have to take me to dinner first." He's flabbergasted. He loves it.

💫 He begins to insert himself into your life, taking up more and more of your free time, you don't even notice it at first. How he just… starts spending time at your home. How you two begin a ritual of movie night every Saturday (he forced Vought to make that day his off day. He was not to be called under any circumstance short of the world going to implode on itself). You have so many emotions in that body of yours and he finds it amusing when you gasp or a look of disgust crosses your face at something a character did. You'd be horrible at poker.

"What the fu-" He has an easy smile on his face as he wraps his arm around your shoulders and places his hand over your mouth. Not threateningly. More playful than anything. You simply hold onto his hand with both of yours as you watch the screen. 

💫 You catch him off guard all the time. Your girly appearance gives nothing away to the chaotic tendencies. You were the closest thing to an actual agent of chaos he's seen. He once watched you, while you were with that little friend of yours- Renae- run across the street as a group of men cat called you, swinging your purse at high velocity speed, yelling: "I'll fucking end your bloodline!" The men were terrified and scurried off screaming "crazy bitch!" You had given Renae a thumbs up, proud of yourself. He also watched you steal a pro-life abortion sign "saying Jesus wouldn't want this" and javelin throwing it into someone's backyard pool before bolting down the street, cackling. Both times in heels. Both times he was weirdly turned on. 

💫 He likes how girly you dress. He loves it actually. He loves all the soft pastel colors you wear and the pleated skirts. It makes you look soft and delicate and he's obsessed with it. He has a tendency to pull at the hem of your skirt, flick it up slightly. You just give him a dead stare and lift up your skirt. "Shorts, bitch." You do it every time and he thinks it's funny.

💫 He hates that you're home screen is a collage of Soldier Boy with that stupid cursive font saying: "my daddy is super dead, but he could still hit it <;3". He hates it and then your lock screen is of your fish.

"Why do you have that?" He asks with disdain.  "What?" She asks looking up at him. He rolls his eyes. "Don't play stupid. Why is he your wallpaper? He's dead. He's been dead." Sure, that was his hero but like hell he wanted to see that man's charming smirk on your homescreen. "Soldier Boys is hot." You say it with all the seriousness of someone telling a prophecy. Homelander's eye twitches. "And I'm not." "No. You are. With your slutty waist." She assures him. "But Soldier Boy is the OG daddy." He scoffs. 

● He ends up stealing your phone later on when you're not looking and changing the wallpaper himself, having memorized your password.

💫 For as flirty and raunchy your mind was, you were oddly freaked out of genuine touch. The first time he tried to make a move on you, you screamed and almost gave yourself a concussion with how you fell over the arm of the couch. He was stunned until you explained you had issues with romantic touch. "Daddy issues, am I right?" She tries to play it off with a laugh. He is not laughing. Later, though, he starts to find it amusing, taking the chance to make you squirm and blush is so funny to him. He revels in your pain and embarrassment.

● He has killed people who had done the same. Like, actually snapped a guy's neck for it.

💫 He is NOT thrilled when you talk about wanting to rail fictional characters. He actually gets pouty. Genuinely gets pissy. He tries to ban you from watching anime.

"But. Toji hot." "I don't care if 'Toji hot'. He spits. "Toji is a fictional character. You need a real man that knows how to please you." You look at him, eating a spoonful of cereal despite his protests about eating it so late. You chew slowly and swallow. "Toji's got that potent dad nut. It works, John." Homelander practically chokes on his spit at that.

💫 He lets you call him John. He likes when you call him John. Call him John.

💫 He actually tries to be better for you because you've voiced how you didn't like when people get hurt. He tries. Key word tries to be more aware, to be a better person. Just for you. 

💫 Absolutely goes insane if you praise him. It's all he wants and all her craves. You've casually complimented him once and he's latched onto it ever since. He's infatuated with your praise. He's like a puppy, looking to you after he did a good deed, looking to you when he does a chore right. It's almost better than sex for him. Almost.

💫 He's elated when you let him lay in your lap. Despite how squeamish you were about sex, you craved physical touch and, guess what? So does he! He's obsessed with laying down and taking in your sweet scent, your fingers playing with his hair as you scroll through your phone. He adores the casual touches you leave on him, adore every time you hang onto his arm. He knows you don't mean anything romantic, but it still fills a hole to have a genuine companion that cares about him in his life. 

💫 You've helped him after a breakdown, when his mind felt like it was splitting and his ego was taking in a mind of its own- and then there you were. In all your pretty, pastel colored and pleated skirt glory.

"John?" You say softly, not approaching him just yet. Giving him the space he needs. "Do you need a hug?" He's breathing hard. He didn't know why he came to your apartment. He thought he was going back to his penthouse in Vought towers. But no. Here he was. And you're standing there, confused about your pretty features. The chaotic side of you is completely gone for the moment. He just stares at you. Of course you'd run to some bitch. A voice hisses in his head. We're a god among men and you come crawling to some fucking-  He squeezes his eyes shut. Your eyes soften. "Come on." You say, your voice soft and gently. A soft coo to him. "Let's sit you down." You open the door wider for him and he trudges in, looking completely drained. He sinks into your couch and you disappear into your room and come out with a fuzzy blanket. The one you wrap around the two of you have movie night. You drape it over him, gently. "It's ok, sweetheart," you say. "I don't know what's happening but you're safe now." He almost scoffs. No one could touch him. He was The Homelander. But… how you said it. It made his chest ache with something heavy. "Can… Can you hold me?" He practically whispers. "Of course, honey." You open your arms up for him. He immediately melts into your hold, his head pressing against the crook of your neck, his hands desperately clinging to the back of your shirt. He sucks in a breath of your scent before he breaks, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as his sobs into you.  He's not a pretty crier. But who is? You run your hand through his hair. Your cheek resting against his head. It feels strange to see a man that could be your father break down. But you had a feeling he was a mess on the inside. All that bravado and charisma making up for an abysmal childhood.  It takes him a while to calm down. His puffy eyes blinking, his blue eyes glassy, he sniffles.  "Oh, sweetie," you coo, swiping your thumb under his eyes to wipe the tear streaks away. "You look like a mess." You say softly, not to make fun of him. Just to state an obvious fact. He sniffles, glaring at you.  You smile at him and he melts.

💫 He won't let you paint his nails, but he wants to paint your nails. He has a pension for picking colors related to him. You make fun of him for it. 

💫 He lets you put accessories in his hair. ONLY when it's movie night. He did accidentally go to a meeting with a hair clip that has rhinestones that spelt 'JUICY' on it. The Seven stayed silent and he was embarrassed as hell when he saw it in the mirror of the window.

💫 HE IS ACTUALLY TRAUMATIZED WHEN YOU FIGURE OUT HE WEARS A BODYSUIT OH MY GOD. HE SUFFERS. THAT'S HOW YOU GET HIM BACK FOR MESSING WITH YOUR FLUSTEREDNESS.

"What's up, my cute stick bug." "Shut the fuck up."  You are the only person allowed to poke fun at him about that. Anyone else would get obliterated.

💫 If you involve him in picking out your outfits, he has hit Nirvana. He has truly seen heaven. He actually has a pretty solid eye for clothes. But he will take the opportunity to coordinate an outfit that has colors that compliment his hero outfit. If you notice, he'll play dumb.

💫 Anyway, congratulations, you have an OP friend. Until he isn't content with just being friends any more….

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to support me consider donating to my Ko-fi!

[genericpuff]

no but listen, rachel has truly embodied herself as persephone because she's constantly trying to "distance herself" from her past as a medical fetish artist but then keeps the name that's affiliated with her medical fetish art-

Like, I can't believe I never noticed it before tbh, but that was the thought that hit me while I was explaining to someone on reddit what the name "used bandaid" meant and why it was weird that Rachel is STILL using it on her print cover books, even now when she just recently set up a new Facebook account with her REAL NAME and not the used_bandaid penname (I feel like this is an attempt to "legitimize" herself in the industry but idk).

But that leads me into talking about how she keeps lying about LO being her first webcomic project and that really pisses me off. And yes, this is related to the used_bandaid thing, just bear with me here.

A lot of my contempt for this is for reasons that go beyond her, I just hate the notion that people should succeed on their "first try" and that's an idea that's often sold by people like Rachel who spin these grandiose stories of how they were just "trying it out" and suddenly wham! Fame and fortune! You can achieve all this and more if you just xyz!

Literally, in every interview I've found over the past couple years, she always heavily implies that LO was her "first attempt", that she had never used Webtoons prior to LO, and that she was just "dipping her toes" into the medium. None of this is true, she's literally been drawing webcomics since the early 2000's (possibly earlier but the earliest documentation we can find is of The Doctor Pepper Show), LO wasn't even her first webcomic on the Webtoons platform (that goes to The Doctor Foxglove Show which she ended up dumping a chapter in to work on LO almost immediately after starting it on Tumblr) and as much as she'll claim she "couldn't pay anyone to look at her work", she had landed a number of gigs that got her work out there, had been printed in anthology collections, and IIRC she had even won some small local NZ awards for her comics prior to LO. Shit, there was a local beer brand that had her art on its labelling.

But it really feels like she's trying her damn hardest to hide all that, never mentioning or implying that she did anything prior to LO, that she was just a "struggling graphic artist working in retail" until LO happened.

So why keep the penname that's directly affiliated with that past identity ??

It boggles my mind, honestly, especially considering she had gone by MULTIPLE usernames back then, some of which were actually pretty sane that she could have used instead (such as Rach Alex, which she uses in her FB groups, and Rachel Royale).

I wouldn't blame her if she was trying to hide her old medical fetish stuff, whether she didn't want it affiliated with her new LO branding or if she's just embarrassed by it, I can totally empathize with that because god knows I wouldn't be all that proud to show off the cringy shit I got up to during my early days on the Internet. But if she IS embarrassed by it, you'd think the last thing she'd want to keep is the name that's directly affiliated with the thing she's embarrassed by. Almost like a certain pink protagonist who goes by the name she earned after doing the thing she doesn't want to talk about.

But if she ISN'T embarrassed by it, then why lie?

Why paint this picture that LO was a one hit wonder, that she lived on "struggle street" until she found fame and fortune on Webtoons?

Oh right. Because it's a better story.

Because it's way more romantic to be some struggling indie darling who "came from nothing" and achieved fame through one big idea. Because it looks good for the platform who's trying to attract people to their app and website on the promise that you, too, can be a success story simply because you followed the exact same perceived steps that you saw another person follow and advertise.

If you can't tell from my tone, I really fucking hate this kind of disingenuous wish fulfillment advertising. It's manipulative, it's cruel, and it sets people up with expectations far beyond their scope of reaching, both due to the luck and "being in the right place at the right time" involved at best (which is a HUGE factor in stories like these that people never talk about), or through joy-killing comparison at worst when you don't achieve worldwide fame on your first try and wonder why everyone else did (spoiler: they didn't, they just want you to think that because it makes for better headlines and it gets you using whatever product they're affiliated with.)

If Rachel doesn't want to be tied down to her past, that's fine. But it's incredibly irresponsible and flat out cruel to lie about that past existing at all because it sets a horrible precedent to those who look up to her and want what she has.

And I say all that because I've seen what happens to the people starting out who admire these creators who painted the picture that they were just successful right off the bat. It's not a fun headspace to be in, it's robbed many creators like myself and others of their joy in creating, and it's really all just a ploy to get you to spend time and money and energy on a stupid corporate phone app that profits off your emotional investment and labor. Don't fall for it. Pretending like the Act of Wrath didn't happen doesn't remove it from history.

Anyways, I was gonna leave it at that, but then I ended up doing another rabbithole deep dive through her Wayback Machine and found album art she had illustrated for NZ band PorcelainToy. Enjoy this piece of her "dark era" art that still exists without needing to use the Wayback Machine.

[prosperdemeter2]

WIP Wednesday

Not watermark this time but another AU that I am having WAY too much fun writing... I give you a glimpse of Retail Manager!Eddie and Fire Marshal!Buck. I'm actually really excited for this story to be finished, I have so much planned for it.

Eddie was going to commit arson.

Which probably wasn't the smartest thought to be having while the much too attractive Fire Marshall listed out every single thing the previous store manager had screwed him over on but…. But Eddie was going to commit arson. At this point, it would probably help the company out to just burn down the whole store, take the insurance payout, and start over from the ground up. Preferably while still keeping him employed but, well, beggers couldn't be choosers and all that. “Your score is horrible,” the guy said with a tone of voice that meant that he was at least mentally, laughing in Eddie’s face. “Like, seriously, I don't think I should even let you stay open for business with a score this low.”

“So shut us down.” Eddie grumbled, kicking his sneaker against the scuffed up, unfinished concrete floor in front of the management desk.

He had been there a week.

A week. And Eddie had already had to argue with several customers over the return policy because the previous manager - may she rest in absolute hell (no, she wasn't dead, she had just gone to another store down the road and Eddie hated her on principle) - had thought the sign explaining it was tacky and removed it from the registers (which was illegal. They had to be posted). He had already had three workers put in their notice, the assistant manager kept looking sorry for him and annoyed by his questions, and now this. The Fire Marshal's inspection.

Eddie had worked his share of retail jobs and none of them enjoyed when the Fire Marshal visited. Granted, none of his stores had failed as hard as this one was apparently going to, but he figured there was a first time for everything.

The Fire Marshal snorted, “I'm not shutting you down.”

Great. Of course he wasn't. He was just wasting Eddie's time by pretending to care about his job. “Listen -.”

“I get it,” the Marshal said, pen tapping on the clipboard he brought with himself. It had several stickers on the back. Eddie had spied one that had said ‘hello, I'm anxious and I'm trying my best’. It looked like Chris’ folder for school. “It's, what, your first week?”

Eddie tried not to twitch and, instead, crossed his arms firmly around his chest. “Yes.”

“We'll call this a test run. You see what I do this time around, I give you a… Progress report or whatever. I'll come back in a few weeks when you've had some time to settle in and fix stuff up. Give you your real grade then.”

“That's…” Nice. Unfairly kind, actually. Something Eddie really hadn't expected. Every Fire Marshal Eddie had ever had the honor of being inspected by had shown up in a stuffy suit and tie, their badge clipped to their front pocket, and the air of someone who was almost good enough to be a firefighter permiating their being. This guy had shown up without any grays in his hair, a stupidly kind looking professional smile, a crisp white shirt with a small stain on his sleeve and a dark navy tie. He had introduced himself with a quick, firm shake of Eddie’s hand and said hello to the cashiers. He had worn his badge on his belt loop, not his pocket, and he had waited until Eddie was done with a customer before asking go to his office. Eddie didn't have any reason to be being so cold towards him. He almost felt guilty about it.

“Here,” The paper ripped as he tore off Eddie’s copy, signed the bottom, and handed it to him.

A 23%?!

Eddie balked at the score, “Oh, come on, man.”

“You're lucky it's not worse.”

“How is this lucky? It's an F minus.”

“Your smoke detectors don't even work in half the store.”

“They work.”

“See that blinking red light?” The Marshal pointed to the smoke detector above Eddie’s head. It blinked mockingly at him. “Half your alarms aren't doing that.”

Okay, so that… was a problem. “You marked down,” Eddie glanced at the paper, the neat, blocky handwriting in all capital letters. “That our store is too dirty. We clean it every night!”

“Cleary, not well enough.”

Absurdly, Eddie was insulted on behalf of his dusters. “You're just being petty.”

The Marshal bristled, “No, I'm being thorough.” He clicked his pen and shoved it in the front pocket of his khakis, and like it was mocking him, the overhead light in his office flickered, threatening to turn off completely. “I'll be back in a few weeks. Get this stuff fixed, and I'll give you an actual grade.”

“Get this stuff fixed, and I'll give you an actual grade,” Eddie mocked when he had left, burying his face in his hands with a groan. “Fuck you, Fire Marshal…” he glanced at the papers, to the name written out in print first before signed much too neatly. “Buckley.”

@wildlife4life 😘

[generalissimomayhem]

SHITTY BUSINESSMAN HEADCANONS 1,2,3 GO!

-Born in Italy (Palermo, Sicily). Moved away when he was relatively old, in his teens.

-Unlike Roman, he (and his family) had no grasp of english when he arrived which made him as easy target for people to exclude, discriminate and such.

-While he didn't know what exactly were the insults, he knew those were bad and went onto learn english intensively.

-His family left with almost nothing and were poor, nobody would hire them (y'know... "no italians need to apply"...) so fuck it! Opening a family bussiness it was!

-Angus helped his family part time while he was learning english on the side, all of that while studying. Dealing with other people made him open up more, improve his english and gain love for selling and dealing with people in general.

-He did eventually go to business school but dropped out and had to hide this fact away from his family like for... 7 years??

-His work history is... interesting to say the least:

First job was with his family, the second most successful job.

Second, worked as a supermarket clerk... for a day (because who told him to store canned goods next to detergent soap? Angus plssss 😭).

Third, he worked in a car dealership but was fired and BLACKLISTED for accepting a fraudulent payment (which wasn't his fault, he was set up for it).

Nowadays, he works as a sort of salesman, selling a bunch of odd things and gadgets in hopes some retailer will pick them up. How has he kept this job? Nobody knows. Some say its borderline witchcraft.

-His personality does all the job his brain doesn't. He's not necessarily dumb per say, but his main problem is that he imagines more than what is feasible to do. He simply expects too much from any situation and himself.

-You know the audio that says that people who like purple don't only like it but their whole life revolves around it? Yeah, that's him. If it wasn't for the appartment complex contract he would've painted that bitch purple already.

-Has an incredibly resilient and tough semblance and is excellent at keeping his head cold during any crisis. He's simply not as severe as Roman.

-On the other hand, he finds it near impossible to cry or feel sad, he would always rather be smiling and laughing it off. Even when he's crying he's always trying to laugh and/or smile. You know that whatever happened to him is serious when he's unable to cheer himself up.

-HATES taking his hat off, he believes that he's going bald but nah that's just him.

-Very exigent about his clothes and general presentation. He adheres to a very strict code of dressing. He always smells good, his mustache and head don't have a single unruly hair and his skin is perfect. He's a 100% a dandy in all the sense of the word.

-He arrived relatively early on to the appartment after a dopple attempted to impersonate him at his job. He took notice of this after several coworkers came to him and tried to start shit with him. Eventually he saw this dopple of himself, and decided to eliminate it.

-The more neighbours arrived, the more they started to see through his unconventional lifestyle and the fact that they... didn't really know much about him.

-Initially suspected to be a criminal by some of them (specially by Izaack) and was held on suspicion until he learned about this (Thanks to Margarette) and decided to reunite with the neighbors to clarify things for once and for all.

-Actually, he LOATHES the mafia and anything to do with it, having been born in the place he was born certainly didn't help with these stereotypes and rumors. Actually, he even LOST members of his family due to these criminal organizations.

-Due to this, he actually took a little resentment towards Izaack, which they eventually made amends and now share a cordial relationship.

-Smokes. A LOT. But he's not a jackass about it and won't smoke near Anastacha (I know, its the 50s and people didn't gaf about kids but Angus does, ok?) or in closed spaces, if he does, there's the terrace by the stairs and he always makes sure there's no one out. One time he accidentally blew smoke at Albertsky's direction, making him mad. Angus didn't know he was there.