#sure. some jobs are Objectively less work in one way or another

[dollarsigns-angels]

i bring an “all labor is skilled labor” vibe to the history class that the capitalists here dont really like

[girlwithadragonheart]

Episodes

Eddie and Volt x AFAB Reader

Summary: Reader has endometriosis. The boys take care of you.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: chronic(?) pain, endometriosis, period talk (oh noooo), hurt/comfort, mildly suggestive?

A/N: this is purely self indulgent. Not edited, burnout is bad enough

Episodes pt 2 Masterlist

Things in your house had more or less calmed down power-wise since you helped Eddie and Volt reset smoothly. You did have as many of the shorts in energy when you plugged Hoove in with your tv or left too many lights on. Mostly, though, you were just happy to finally be where you felt you belonged—-with two of your favorite people. Volt had made his affections much more evident after your aid and Eddie was even starting to warm up to your nightly visits to the best bar in the house.

It was still dark when you woke up, curling in on yourself and whining quietly as you held your abdomen. Your face scrunched in pain as you mentally pictured yourself taking the last pill in your little birth control package. Cursing, you knew you were due for anywhere between four and fourteen excruciating days where all you wanted to do was lay in bed and wish your own death.

To anyone else, it seemed extreme, so you learned to stop voicing that wish when these days hit; preferring to drill them through your mind over and over and over until you finally fell asleep or your prescription painkillers kicked in, numbing the pain just enough that you could nap through it. Nobody understood the way you felt because the people you were around hadn’t experienced such excruciating pain so often in their lives.

Every month for almost half of it you were down and out. You had joined Valdivian under the pretense from Sam that they would be understanding of it. Your last job had not been able to accommodate your condition, and it had let to arguments blowing things out of proportion and extra stress that only made the everyday pain worse. Eventually, you decided you couldn’t do that vicious cycle anymore. It had become too much for you to power through and the last argument had you blowing a fuse, screaming that you quit and weren’t ever coming back.

You had cried to Sam in your car on the way home that day about it all. She listened diligently and said she could put in a recommendation for you at her company.

Everything had been going swimmingly until your job there hit limbo, as Tom had called it, and tinfoilhat guy had entered your life with the Dateviators. Since then, they had been upgraded with unlimited charges and were charged by a swapping of energy between the contacts and the objects they were interacting with. So long as that object wanted to be spoken with, the contacts were able to pull them into your sight.

It was a good lesson in consent, all things considered. If only it worked with real people.

You groaned, rolling onto your other side with your knees curled up, cradling your aching belly. You checked your phone, the bright, unnatural glow making you squint your eyes despite the dark background. 3:05am. If you hadn’t known Betty under you would’ve taken the brunt force of it, you would’ve started kicking and hitting to get out some of your frustration. You hadn’t even noticed the way your hand curled into a fist in your sheets as another wave of pain flared.

“Sorry, Betty…” She was intimately familiar with your cycle already, having bled through and had to hand wash your sheets at least once a month. Even with your precautions doubling up on pads every night, there were many nights you had to wake up and change them.

You almost swore you could hear her telling you it was alright.

You reached for the little case filled with saline and put your dateviator contacts in. You didn’t really know what you planned to do this late at night, only a handful of them were usually still awake. One being Nightmare. You were sure you weren’t really in the mood for her right now.

You knew who you wanted to see, of course, but you didn’t want to be a bother, and you definitely did not want them fussing over you. You had handled it alone for this long, you could go a little longer by yourself. If you thought about it, it sounded silly. You wanted to go talk to your breaker box—-like a lunatic—-because it made you feel better. Sam was still in disbelief that it was real, and it definitely did make you seem crazy. No one could see them without the dateviators and there was only one pair.

Hell, maybe you were hallucinating, but it was better than the alternative of being completely and utterly alone in the house, with no social life, and no desire to continue the way you were before. As crazy as this circumstance started, you wouldn’t trade it for anything now. You shuddered to think what you would do if something happened to the dateviators and you had to go back to being in this big empty house alone, unable to speak with anyone that you had formed such meaningful connections with.

Still, you found yourself standing in front of the Breaker Box door. You blinked and it shifted from your actual breaker box to your favorite bar. The lights were off, and your heart sank even as you tried the handle… Unlocked.

Something in your chest eased as you gently pulled the door open and crept in. The room was empty and there was a discarded rag on the bar, undoubtedly from Eddie wiping it down. Hopefully, he had gone to rest instead of overworking himself again. That was fine, you could make your own drink and clean it up to be spotless and they would never know. If your boyfriends were sleeping, the least you could do was have a drink.

The first thing that came to mind was a whiskey sour. It wasn’t something you normally drank, or something you used to even like. But the taste reminded you of Eddie. He was the first to make it for you. Whiskey, lemon juice, sugar, egg whites, and cherries on top.

You moved behind the bar, pulling the ingredients out and mixing it perfectly, the way Beverly had shown you in the past. You carefully poured it out of the shaker and into your own glass over ice, putting two cherries attached at the stem on top.

The presentation was exactly the way Eddie would do it for you and it sent a pang through your chest. You had just seen them earlier in the night but it didn’t change how much you missed them both.

Your pain flared up again, and you clutched the edge of the bar with white knuckles. Your nose scrunched, waiting for it to pass. When it finally did, you took a sip of your drink and frowned. It didn’t taste the same. You had measured everything to perfection and mixed everything properly, but it didn’t taste right. You sighed, setting the glass down heavily. You didn’t want to waste it, but it didn’t feel worth the bad taste in your mouth.

You jumped, your head bumping someone’s chest as hands settled on your hips. You swore your soul left your body for a moment as Volt’s voice crooned in your ear. “You’re up early, live wire.”

Just hearing him, you relaxed into his touch, the fight or flight leaving your tensed muscles. You sighed, briefly allowing yourself to close your eyes as you drank in his warm energy. He leaned his head down to kiss your crown, his white hair lighter than downy feathers and tingling slightly against your cheek.

“Don’t let Eddie see you making your own drinks,” he teased. You huffed a quiet laugh.

“It wasn’t worth it anyway.” You held it up to him.

Carefully, he plucked the cherries off the top, his other hand lightly gripping your neck and pulling your chin down with his thumb. Your lips parted as he dangled the cherries in front of you, and you tilted your head back to welcome them into your mouth. You heard a small grunt escape him as your lips wrapped around the stems and pulled the fruit free. He flicked the stems onto the bar, lightly holding your throat until you leaned forward to spit the cherry pits into the trash.

You could see the pink dusting Volt’s cheeks from the light of his hair as he knocked back your drink like it was a cold shower. You couldn’t help but grin, knowing exactly the kind of effect you had on him.

The joy was short lived as your uterus twisted painfully. Your breath whooshed out as you doubled over against the bar, gripping it like your life depended on it. It certainly felt as though it did.

“Spark, what’s wrong?” The obvious concern in Volt’s tone did nothing but embarrass you.

“I’m fine, it’ll pass in a moment.”

Volt’s hands hovered in the air, as though worried he had somehow hurt you. Slowly, the tension in your hands and back released and the wave crashed leaving only the aftermath. Exhaustion.

You breathed a sigh, slumping forward against the bar. You put your head in your hands, Volt hesitantly reaching for your shoulder.

“What’s happened?” Another familiar voice came from your left as Eddie descended the stairs, rubbing his callused hands with a rag.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you snapped.

“Sure, and I’m Mayor Celia,” Eddie replied drily.

“Live wire, whatever it is, you know you can tell us anything.” Volt said softly, gently massaging your shoulder.

You stood up straight, shrugging him off. “I told you I’m fine. It’s nothing to worry yourselves over.” You took a deep breath, fighting to push away the accusatory, hostile tone. “I’m sorry, I’m okay, please just don’t make a big deal about it.”

Volt and Eddie glanced between each other. Volt hesitantly spoke. “All right, little spark, but at the first sign that something is wrong we want to know.”

You could’ve laughed at that if he wasn’t so seriously worried about you. Nothing had been right ever. It was just something you had to endure. But you nodded anyway.

Everything was tense and silent for long enough that you caved and the words just started spilling from your mouth. “I have something called endometriosis. This is all going to sound like gibberish to you because objects don’t have some of the human anatomy. Normally, every month for about a week, a woman will bleed from her vagina.” It was easier not to look at them while you explained it, though you had given up on censoring anything long ago. They would get the full ugly truth.

You watched their faces as they took in your words, gradually becoming more horrified as you spoke. “That’s… considered normal?”

“It’s normal, and part of how people reproduce. But for me… I cramp most of the days in a month. And I’ll bleed anywhere between one and two weeks. It would be more without my birth control—-my medicine. But it’s… excruciating, to put it lightly. Cramps come and go in waves, sometimes just lasting for hours at a time. I just started today.”

“Is that why you’re awake so early? Because you’re in pain?” Volt had a sympathetic, pouting expression on his face, immediately winding his arms around your waist and holding you close. “Spark, you should have said.”

“That’s the most horrifying thing I’ve ever heard,” Eddie said, approaching the two of you. “And you shouldn’t be alone with it.” You could feel the redness in his cheeks as you cupped his face between your hands.

“I always have, and people don’t take it seriously. Doctors barely take it seriously. I got lucky that mine did and was able to prescribe me extra strong pain pills that aren’t available in a drug store. But really, even that barely scratches the surface.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Volt’s energy created static in the air as he became frustrated on your behalf. “It’s clear how painful it is, and I’ve been around all of five minutes compared to your life.”

“Yeah, I—“ you were cut off with a groan as your abdomen clenched, every muscle in your stomach cramping with it. “Fuck!” You said with a strangled voice.

“Spark!” Volt pulled you so that you fell into him rather than the counter, and you were grateful for the warmth he provided.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” you panted out as you squeezed your eyes shut, hands clenched in the lapels of his jacket. You buried your head in his chest and he held the back of it gently, rubbing your back with his free hand.

“Don't you dare apologize for something you can’t control.” You felt Eddie as he approached behind you, leaving you effectively sandwiched between the two men. Not that you were complaining or would ever complain about it, but this wasn’t quite what you had in mind when you made that joke.

Your body shook with the effort of keeping you upright, and you slumped completely against Volt, who held you without issue. Tears welled in your eyes from frustration and fatigue.

You sniffled and Volt pulled back just enough to see your face. He held your cheeks, wiping the tears away as they fell. “Oh, Spark…”

“I’m so tired of this,” you cried. You knew you had that whine of exhaustion in your voice, but you didn’t care. You were exhausted and there was no one better to take care of you than them.

“What can we do?” Eddie asked from behind you, gently rubbing your upper arms.

In truth, there wasn’t much if anything that could help. It took some time for the tears to stop flowing and for your breathing to even out before you spoke. “Bed. And… maybe some medicine.”

Without another word, Volt hooked his arms under your knees and carried you princess style. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, tucking your nose into the crook of his neck and taking deep breaths.

“Easy, live wire. I’ve got you.” You nodded, letting your eyes drift shut. It was easy for your mind to settle tucked into him like this.

You were vaguely aware when Volt put you into your bed and knelt beside you, brushing your hair out of your face. He leaned forward, pressing his lips softly against yours before moving to press them to your forehead.

Eddie came in a few minutes later holding your prescription bottle and a glass of water from the bar with ice in it. “Here,” he perched on the edge of the bed, holding them out to you.

Volt helped you sit up enough to take the pills, chugging the glass of water before laying back. As Volt moved to stand, you caught the copper coils around his wrist.

He smiled softly. “I’m not going anywhere, little spark.” He shrugged his jacket off, haphazardly throwing it to the floor before slipping out of his pants and shoes and climbing into bed beside you.

A moment later, the bed dipped and you knew Eddie was behind you, curling against your back. You tucked yourself into Volt’s chest, allowing yourself the moment of rest. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d fallen asleep without removing the dateviators and it likely wouldn’t be the last.

When you woke up, they were gone, but there was a fresh glass of water that still had ice in it and a carefully folded piece of paper. Your painkillers were closed, but two pills rested next to the glass. You picked them up and took them quickly before reading the piece of paper.

We’ll always take care of you.

Our live wire.

E & V

A/N: literally living this hell as we speak 😭 without the boys. Send help.

Update! Episodes pt 2 is here!

Let me know if you want me to make a Breaker Box Boys tag list 🫶

Credits to @/cafekitsune for the banner

[sitting-1n-silence]

Goetic spirit pots/vessels

Before diving in I wanna mention the work of Rufus Opus that I encountered researching for this post. I think he does a better job explaining this concept and it's origins than I could. He also provides a method of making your own, which isn't something I'm going to be getting into much.

Some of his blog and youtube posts explaining goetic spirit pots:

"Working with spirit pots"

"More on spirit pots"

Goetic spirit pots

Spirit pots, witch bottles, and Brass vessels

I will be speaking from my own perspective having encountered the idea of spirit pots from a magical tradition I was invited to explore, with inspiration from the work of Jake Stratton-Kent's work with the Grimorium Verum (who has some of his pots now on display at the Museum of Witchcraft. One can be seen above. 1,2,3), with a focus on the rite I found in the Book of Oberon.

This idea has it's roots in ATRs, and has spread into the wider ceremonial magic community. As some ATRs utilize grimoire magic, spirits, and seals. These different branches of magic mixing lead to the creation of this way of working goetic spirits through a permanent brass vessel. As shown by grimoire magicians like Jake Stratton-Kent, Rufus Opus, and Aaron Leitch. To paraphrase someone I met who practices from a tradition where they make true spirit pots, "Anyone can make a pot and put a spirit in it. It just wouldn't be a traditional (insert tradition) spirit pot."

[Note: I also wanna give a word of caution to anyone looking to research these spirit vessels further. As traditional spirit pots can be beautiful and gruesome. Containing animal parts, blood, bones, blades of various kinds, and more. These images can be jarring to some, so go into any research you do knowing you might encounter these things.]

What is a goetic spirit pot/vessel:

So to quote Rufus "They Aren't Really "Spirit Pots"." These are spirits put in pots. And these pots are very comfortable spirit houses, or highly potent talismans. That is intended to be permanent or long lasting. So these spirit houses are made by including materia that aligns with the spirit you will hopefully be calling into the vessel. The vessel of choice should also be something that can seal, and if possible able to be marked with the desired spirit's seal.

Once a spirit is put into a pot, it becomes significantly more present in your life, as you are making them a permanent house here in your home. You can more easily access this spirit without grand rituals, and they can access you. There becomes less of a need for elaborate rites, as when someone has a spirit in a pot, they might just approach the vessel and speak to it when they're in need and give small offerings. Similar to the way someone might work with an enlivened statue.

What Goes into a spirit pot/vessel:

Its common to find dirt, herbs, stones, bones, and other objects in these pots (I've seen cards, knives, flowers, chains, matches, dice, and more). Oil, fat, and blood are also sometimes used. As well as the spirit's seal. It is also sometimes suggested to write out the purpose of the spirit you're calling and including that in the vessel.

I find that including blessed solomonic talismans is another potent option as well. Either using the whole charm, or by burning the talisman to ash and including that in the vessel. Putting in things like anti-witchcraft charms and such has also proven to be useful in a spirit pot for me. Once given to this spirit these worked objects becomes apart of them.

It's suggested to put grave dirt down first, then dirts that aligning with the realm the spirits operate in, and dirt from your local community or crossroads. Then a rock/stone over top. Followed by your other materia.

Making sure to awaken the spirit of each thing as you put it into the vessel, and having paid proper respects when gathering these things. As well as doing divination to make sure the spirit wants every object you intend you put in, this should be a clear Yes/No type of divination. This process of gathering materials during the proper planetary days and hours can take time, and it should. This is not a process to rush.

Making and Working a spirit pot:

The initial act of creation should be a grand one. Involving a full goetic rite. Rufus Opus gives a good praxis for this in the above videos. It's highly recommended to go through the act of casting a circle or hallowing your ritual space. I also suggest using a ritual knife during the rite, and wearing all white if possible (or another form of ceremonial garb).

When calling and approaching the spirit come with respect, respect for yourself as a magician and respect for the spirit giving you their time. This will run counter to some other traditional approached to goetic magic, but this will bring you the best results. When making the vessel for the fairy queen in the Book of Oberon you see this difference in tone when compared to other operations in the text.

When the vessel has been assembled it becomes time to ask the spirit to enter the pot. Offer the spirit gifts of liquor, fire, and favorable incense, and inform it you will continue to provide these things if the spirit enters the vessel and works for you. Unless you receive some horrific sign telling you "no" then assume the spirit has gone inside. Give the spirit an initial task to prove it's here in the vessel, then give it 2 weeks to work before returning the vessel. Let it rest and do it's task, and only call the spirit back to you if you're certain something went wrong in how the spirit was sent out. If the spirit is called back, it's task clarified, and it still doesn't work than you're vessel may be empty. Though if you just keep providing offerings eventually a spirit will call it home. Also, consider a form of passive divination to look for signs of spirit as well.

Working a pot might be different than working a typical talisman or goetic spirit seal too. Within Oberon there are a few taboos you're supposed to observe, such as not asking the spirit it's name or whether it's a woman or fairy. To work with this fairy you're also supposed to anoint your eyes with an oil special to her. So the spirit being bound might have specific expectations for how they are to be worked properly. Divination or knowing a skilled diviner is helpful in this when a text isn't clear on how to best work with a spirit.

Some pots might need to be continually fed to work their best, this should be done sparingly. Small offerings of candles, incense, and liquor are okay to give when putting the spirit to work. Save food offerings, animal offerings, ect.. for special occasions or when the spirit has done a lot of unpaid work for you. A fat spirit is a slow spirit, so keep them fed but not satiated.

Thoughts on the nature of goetic spirits in this context:

My personal experiences with working spirits this way has lead me to believe that these spirits inhabit the world around us and beyond us. Goetic spirits frequently being spirits of place or necromantic spirits called into these names. Rufus Opus will frequently refer to them as "nature spirits" and I've seen other goetic magicians call them "elemental" or "directional" spirits. Showing an alignment with place/location.

I compare this process of calling spirits by goetic titles to pinning a mask to a shadow. Spirits are happy to be known and receive offerings, and if someone is calling spirits under a certain name local spirits would be happy to fill that role. To no harm to the practitioner, in fact to their benefit. And maybe through this work the spirit will becomes more like the goetic name they're operating under.

As the way I and some see it is, if we both have a house for say Bune then my housed "Bune" may or may not be the same as your housed "Bune." My experience with Bune will be shaped by my environment, what I'm able to provide for him, what his house is made from, and more factors. Especially when you're using local dirt in a spirit house like this, this will impact the way Bune comes through to you through this vessel. Your Bune might come to you in the form of a teacher or wise parental figure, mine might come in a more devilish necromantic form. Both are "Bune", maybe different facets of one grand Bune, or maybe they're different more local spirits who both operate well through Bune's domain and name. Some food for thought before you go housing a goetic spirit.

[hypothermiatapes]

How do you think Tomarry would work in an AU where Harry and Tom grow up together in an orphanage? Either through time travel or some other way. They're both orphans, both in the same orphanage, and the only magical people there.

That’s actually a really hard question to answer because when you change the environment Harry grew up in you’ll be changing his character. This means that his values, goals, personality and so forth would all change in some ways. Tom’s personality would also change to an extent because now you’re adding a new person into the mix that will influence him.

So, this means that the very characters we’re working with have changed and their dynamics will change as well. Usually tomarry in the 40s consists of Harry planning to stop Tom and “save” him or save his loved ones. This creates a dynamic of someone that knows too much and is trying to change the other character while that character doesn’t know what’s happening. It’s an odd dynamic, and it’s one that cannot be carried into them growing up together (obviously).

From this point on it’s mainly going to be speculation using my interpretations of Harry and Tom and trying to find how they would change. This also includes environmental influences and my beliefs of what the orphanage was like during this time. So, nobody has to agree and this interpretation is merely an interpretation (this is going to be long, so I apologize).

First, let’s look at Harry in PS when he’s the boy from the Dursleys and doesn’t have as much of his friend’s influence. This will show us what he’s like after going through years of emotional neglect, physical violence (no matter how small), emotional abuse and neglect in general.

I don’t have the time to put evidence for each point, but I do have notes so I may add on later. He is very observant, curious, cunning to an extent, judgmental, protective of what’s his in a way (the letter), and has the knee-jerk reaction to lie when in trouble. He also is more empathetic to animals (the snake), but with other people he typically isn’t unless he likes them but then again it’s not empathy but more sympathy. I would also like to add how he isn’t afraid to spend money when he has it and doesn’t appreciate the attention he gets, especially when it’s negative. Finally, he’s very good with pain, he simply shakes it off and acts like everything is fine when it isn’t.

I bring this up because I think if he were to grow up in Wool’s these traits (especially the more negative ones) could amplify. I say this because Wool’s is filled to the brim with other children during the Great Depression and disease epidemics. This means there will be less money to go around and every kid is in survival mode. These kids will have to do anything they can to stay healthy and get what they need.

This creates an environment of competition, an environment Harry wouldn’t have had at the Dursleys because he couldn’t compete. He was simply below everyone else in the house and had no way to prop himself up and Dudley was always winning. However, in Wool’s he’d have to be sneaky, cunning and maybe even aggressive if he wanted to survive. The other orphans are competition, people he has to steal from or maybe even ruin the reputation of if he wanted to get something he didn’t have already.

Sure, maybe he could befriend some (including Riddle), but who says he can trust them? Kids are resourceful and catch on quick, if one wants/needs something there’s a high possibility they’ll try to get it. If Harry had something another orphan wants it will be his job to protect that object and letting his guard down could mean losing something important.

As I type this I feel like I’m over exaggerating this environment, but Wool’s would barely have the money to keep afloat. These kids needs will not always be met and many are from broken families and lives, they’ll lash out and be aggressive. These kids don’t have support systems or people who actually give a damn about them because Wool’s workers have dozens of children to care for.

However, they could form groups and I’m sure a few of the older kids would care for the younger ones to an extent. So, maybe Harry could rely on someone but in the end I think this environment would actually make his personality far more similar to Tom’s. And remember, they already have a lot of parallels and similarities, imagine how similar they’ll be after growing up the same way.

As a side note emotional abuse and neglect typically makes people less empathetic over time according to a few studies. This is because it’s a taught behavior and trauma literally changes one’s emotional processing making it hard to empathize. Harry will also not have the time to care about others too much because it is bound to hurt him in the end especially with so many probably are dying from diseases.

Now, I’m not sure how Tom’s reaction to Harry would be, especially with the magic thing. I think in Tom’s childhood his mind protected him largely by saying he was special and unique and that’s why people didn’t understand him, why they hurt him. However, when he met Dumbledore he seemed excited to learn about magic, but I’m not sure if it’s because there’s others like him (unlikely) or because he could learn more about it.

Remember how I mentioned surviving Wool’s is like a competition? I do think both Tom and Harry would compete with each other. They’re the same age meaning clothes would be the same size, likely had interest in the same toys and since they’re the same age they’ll be grouped together and would have more interactions.

The fact they’re both magical could either make them hate each other or find some form of companionship in each other. It’s possible that Tom, someone whose defense mechanism is likely saying he’s better, will feel inferior and will double down in competing with Harry. Harry could see Tom has magic and immediately be wary since that means Tom can do the same things as him and that can put him at a disadvantage.

However, maybe they could bond over it. They could bond over both being “freaks” and different, maybe they could reach an “understanding” that they’re better than everyone else. Though I think it’s unlikely that while they’re at Wool’s they’ll ever trust each other fully. Maybe overtime they’ll learn working together is advantageous and so they’ll be more inclined to help one another. However, secrets are a way to protect themselves and who knows if the other will suddenly turn their backs on the other?

Hogwarts could be a different story though. In this scenario Harry likely will be sorted into Slytherin with Tom and in this environment they’re the bottom of the pack, worthless even. This is no longer everyone is at the same level and must fight tooth and nail, no, they’re surrounded by rich heirs who hate them for their blood. These people have everything they could ever want and more and suddenly Tom and Harry are the objects of their hate.

Nothing brings people together like a common enemy, and I think this is what would happen in Slytherin. Tom and Harry would likely decide fighting each other is too disadvantageous and why would they? They both have nothing while everyone else has everything, it makes more sense to steal from and tear down the people around them. However, they would have to do it differently than they did it at Wool’s.

I think here is where you could build their trust the most. Now at Wool’s they’ll start the foundations but Hogwarts is where it will grow. Their wands being brothers would likely just make them decide they’re meant to work together/stay together. They’ll be fighting to survive the snake pit together, not fighting to survive each other.

Honestly, I think in this scenario it’s likely Lord Voldemort is still born but now he has Harry Potter at his side. I don’t think the relationship would be the healthiest, it would likely be very obsessive and maybe even toxic. They’ll start out as competitors turning into teammates and eventually become lovers/friends.

They’ll be people that for a large part of their lives saw the other as an obstacle they had to overcome to live that eventually had to trust one another to overcome a different one. Likely a very transactional relationship while also obsessive and maybe even abusive from both sides.

I think the only way to get a good ending with this AU is if Harry is raised by relatives or his parents and meets Tom as a kid. But if they both grow up in Wool’s I can’t see it going well unless they get therapy but this is the 40s we’re talking about.

Sorry this was so unbelievably long, but I hope it sorta answers the question.

[skyfallscotland]

I was originally just going to reply to T on the post they made regarding their experiences in the fandom, but I find (which will come as a surprise to absolutely no one) that I have things to say.

I'm rambling on a new post so I can disable reblogs, because I don't really care for this to break containment right now.

"The things you write that you love, will rarely be the things other people love," is so true. As a writer, you have absolutely no way of knowing what will resonate with people.

I won't go into the numbers, because as I'm about to explain, they're part of the problem (for me), but I mentioned recently that statistically, What Happens in Vegas is tracking much higher, much earlier than any other fic I've written. Which is great, I love that people love it, but I could never have predicted it.

Perhaps it's just timing—I did start posting it right in time for the Onyx Storm boom—or perhaps it's because it's riorgail, which we all know will perform a lot better as a main pairing (which is fine, by the way, it's just an interesting point). What makes it so interesting to me though, is that I feel it's objectively not my best work. I have vaguely plotted it, but I spend a lot less time working on and refining it than I have some of my other works...and yet double the amount of people have subscribed to updates on it.

And it does fuck with your head. When you know you've put so much more into another work, when another piece has been a labour of love and no one really notices, that's tough. There's a strange kind of mental thing that happens when you start getting engagement. You get used to a certain level of attention for your work and when that doesn't continue it hits you twice as hard.

I have days where I get ten less comments on a chapter and I start wondering where I went wrong, and I have to remind myself some people don't get ten comments at all. It's such a warped perception of things that I think no one talks about for fear of being seen as an asshole or ungrateful (at least that's why I never talk about it), but it happens, and I think if you already struggle with mental health issues, it's ten times worse.

It doesn't mean I'm not grateful, or that I think I deserve more, or that my work is better than other people's—it's just a shitty facet to how mental health can affect your self-worth and how fandom can play into that, and in retrospect, I think mental health issues are always worth talking about. There are lots of fics in this fandom that I think objectively outshine mine by a mile, but get so little attention and it's such a shame, and all I can do (besides comment and share myself) is hope those writers don't pin their self-worth on their engagement the way I do.

I'm very lucky in a lot of ways, both that I do get a lot of engagement (which I generally put down to the above pairing, and right place, right time), and also that I haven't had any major issues with people posting hate comments on my work. I think overall, this community is a good one (looking back on how things have been in other places) and I've found my people as I know others have, but without them I'd probably have left already.

Of course I get the occasional rude comment, but it's much easier to brush off if you're not actively writing that fic. It's why I won't be posting Basgiath (Remi's Version) further until I've finished writing it, because I know some of that won't go over well and I'm cognisant enough to know I'm not in the mental position to deal with disappointed comments, if they were to come, but overall I’m so happy I’ve found my people and the best group of readers 🥹

I think we're doing a better job than we were fifteen years ago of the whole 'don't like, don't read' thing, but maybe a worse job than we were doing five years ago, as fandom on the whole, and you don't need me to elaborate on why I think that is, I'm sure. (MAKE FANDOM NERDY AGAIN).

There seems to be this renewed push in fandom spaces for "no criticism in comments" to be a rule that just...goes away, because by posting you've "opened yourself up to negative comments" and I thoroughly disagree with that. A lot of the original migrators to AO3 specifically disagreed with that, it's why we all left FF.net. We do this for free, around all our other obligations.

To T, I'm sorry the experience killed the joy of writing for you (and it seems for others too, judging by the comments). I think everyone knows that I felt the same way after Onyx Storm came out. I felt like no one saw the text the same way I did, I felt like I wasn't really included in many of the fandom spaces, and mostly like people wanted to devour my content, but didn't want to hear anything else I had to say. It was sort of like we're happy to receive your work, but not your thoughts.

Between this and a few other things, I've mostly pulled back from the community in general. I spend my time writing and direct-messaging my closer friends and rarely ever open my dash. I love writing, and I usually write until I'm falling asleep sitting up, which means I've barely read fic all year. This post made me realise though, that perhaps I'm also part of the problem. I don't want this community to die so I'll try and make a more conscious effort to read some fic going forward and give other writers some love 🥹💖

[ireadwithmyears]

Wrapped in Love

Pairing: Wrecker/Fem Reader

Word count: 2.8 K

Tags/warnings: Reader is a Jedi, referenced death of a sibling, grief/morning, sleeping problems, including false awakening loops/sleep paralysis, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: As a Jedi, you’re supposed to be able to let go of people after you lose them. But when your twin brother, who is also a Jedi, is killed mid battle during the clone wars, you find your grief manifesting in a plethora of sleeping problems that you hadn’t been prone to experiencing since childhood. When it all starts to become too much, only the batch’s resident demolitions expert/human teddy bear Wrecker is able to ground you and, little by little, help you feel safe again.

Authors note: So uh... if you didn’t know, one of my older brothers unexpectedly died several weeks ago, and this is just my way of coping with my grief, as well as the sleeping problems, discussed in this fic, that I’ve developed as a result. Often, I wake up feeling deeply unsettled and like I’m not entirely real, and this is immediately followed by the thought man, I could really use the strength of Wrecker to comfort me and make me feel grounded in this moment. So basically... this is that. Also written for @wrecker-week 😁

All the lights that blink and beam within each of the cockpit’s various displays are a normal, reassuring glow of green, indicating that all sensor readings, as of this moment, are blissfully, unremarkably normal.

Wrecker, to the shock of almost everyone who knows him, doesn’t actually mind this job. Sure, it’s probably the least exciting duty he and his brothers are forced to contend with on a semi-regular basis, what with operations needing to be split between such a small crew. But someone, especially whilst they were using some of the more clandestine hyperspace routes, needed to keep a constant eye on the various monitors, particularly for the critical systems and proximity sensors to detect for foreign vessels whilst travelling around the Outer Rim.

Wrecker, having what some would call an overactive mind and as a result, an abundance of energy that needed to be burned off somehow during the long stretches of nothingness that came with extraneous hyperspace forays such as this one, could always be counted on to find something to keep himself occupied through the night.

What he hadn’t counted on, but what was quickly becoming the standard routine, was you at some point or another joining him in the cockpit. 

When you had joined them, his squad had been apprehensive. 

But when a Jedi general who they had later learned was your former master had asked if they had room to take you in, well...

It wasn’t like Hunter could really raise any objections to that. 

So you had come aboard, and little by little they had learned of the circumstances that had brought you to them. 

You were a twin, and in a slightly less-conventional Jedi upbringing, were trained in the ways of the Force alongside your brother. You both had different masters and were encouraged to find balance within your familial relationships so as not to form unhealthy attachments. But regardless, family was family, and you often found yourselves, once you had both become knights, working alongside each other and in later years fighting at each other’s side to defend peace and to protect vulnerable planets as the war tore its way across the galaxy.

Which, in the end, had made it all the more devastating when, mid battle, in a bid to protect his men, your brother was overpowered and cut down by General Grievous.

The worst part, which should have been viewed as a mercy but in reality felt like a final blow to you, was that you weren’t even there to witness his final, heroic sacrifice.

You were at the Temple, and subsequently had woken up in bed with a horrible, aching pain in your chest and an instinctive, loud, and screeching feeling that something was irrevocably and unspeakably wrong.

Even before the Temple Guards had arrived at your quarters to inform you, deep within the confines of your soul, where the ever-present song of the Force had faded into a clashing, churning dissonance within your ears, you had already known. 

You were left with the shadow, the memory of him everywhere you went, and an inescapable, desperate urge to run away from it all. So, with your master unable to convince you to stay out of the fight entirely and to instead take some time to go on a meditation retreat, he had sent you to them, where you could still be of use without yours and your brother’s mutual acquaintances, friends, and the familiar settings that brought the memory of him back just to haunt you, and that with some luck, you could grieve whilst also maintaining some degree of distance from the brother and the childhood that you had lost.

The only problem now? 

You’ve come to associate your bed, and by extension getting to sleep, as not safe anymore.

Your bed, of all places, should be the one place where you do feel safe. It’s warm, it’s comfortable, and it’s the place you always go when you find yourself in need of rest.

But the bed was not safe.

Bed meant lying down, going to sleep, and waking up to news that could shatter you as easily as if you were glass. Going to sleep, in the same vein, became a fretful nightly event, where you would lie down and try to convince yourself, sometimes for up to several hours, that everything was fine, that you would close your eyes, wake up in the morning, and most everything would remain the same—safe, familiar and unchanging, much like the monitors and sensor readings on the cockpit’s various displays.

And then there were the nightmares, which themselves were an issue all on their own.

The thing about nightmares is that a lot of the time, they don’t have to be this vivid, terrifying experience in which you watch as your twin brother is, viciously and without mercy, stabbed through the chest and back with two lightsabers in quick succession.

You don’t need to go to sleep at night for that image to burn behind your eyes if you happen to fixate on it too much. 

Your nightmares nowadays were quiet and deceptive in their appearance, which in the end makes them all the more deeply unsettling to wake up from. 

Disappointingly, in a painful twist that really shouldn’t have been all that surprising given the circumstances, they were also recurring, a remnant of your childhood that you thought you had left in your Padawan days long ago. 

“False-awakening loops” your master, with patience and a seemingly endless reserve of compassion, had called them. “When you are stressed or are anticipating something stressful is about to happen, you are unable to fully relax into sleep. To try and compensate, your brain will aim to re-create the familiar scenario of waking, sometimes over and over again, in an attempt to process the stress or trauma that has triggered it.”

So, as it was, you found yourself reverting back to those subtle but frightening dreams that cropped up on particularly stressful occasions when you were a youngling.

You would wake up. You would start your day, and then something strange, disquieting, or a frightening mixture of both would slowly alert you to the fact that you were dreaming, and then, as soon as you would begin to struggle to get yourself out and actually wake up for real, it would repeat, happening up to five or six times on a loop until, somehow you were able to pull yourself out of the tangle of dreams, stumbling back into your awareness with a blurry, visceral fear that this too was not real, leaving you with the sick feeling of being caught, ensnared in a trap.

What you hadn’t accounted for, when these dreams started to disrupt your sleep more often than they ever did when you were a child, was him.

But he was there, warm and strong and so, so incredibly real when he held you in the aftermath that really, at the end of the day, falling for him had been easy. 

As easy as it is for you to stumble from your bunk in this moment, quick, urgent footsteps carrying you to the cockpit, your eyes wet as you search for him until finally, finally he’s standing in front of you, and he’s real. You’re reaching for him and collapsing into his arms, legs shaky and threatening to give out, but it’s fine, he has you, and he isn’t going to let you fall.

“Oh, sweetheart.” You feel yourself being lifted, arms gently tucking you against a broad, strong chest as he sinks down into one of the cockpit seats, settling you in his lap. “We’re okay, see? You’re safe.”

His hands brush along your shoulders and back and he frowns, feeling every muscle tense, shaking uncontrollably within his hold. 

“It was the usual one, wasn’t it?”

You sniffle, barely able to look up at him as you shiver, slowly nodding your head. The muscles in his arms flex against your trembling form as his hold tightens slightly. 

“Oh,” he says, sounding disheartened. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

His hands run up and down your arms in a slow, soothing rhythm. 

“I-I couldn’t move this time,” you shudder, belatedly supposing that maybe that’s why your body has decided to shake uncontrollably now that it’s been given the freedom. In all your years of experiencing these loops, sleep paralysis has never been part of the deal, and it frightened you even more than the usual, unsettling loops of false awakenings. Something about being aware of everything around you but being unable to get up or even twitch One of your fingers has rattled something deep within your bones, and it still lingers within your quivering, tensed muscles even now. “I, I could hear my alarm going off but I couldn’t...”

When you say it out loud, it feels stupid, almost ridiculous and silly and certainly not deserving of the amount of fear that’s still rolling off of you like waves right now. But Wrecker—sweet, gentle Wrecker—only gathers you closer to his chest, tender as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Shh,” he soothes, his hand drawing slow, soft circles against the shaky and tensed muscles of your back. “You’ve been so brave, my sweet thing. But it’s okay, see?”

He lightly nuzzles his nose against your hair, taking a slow, steady inhale before dipping to press a soft kiss to the curve of your cheek.

“You’re safe, see?” he whispers, his breath a warm caress against your ear. “I’ve got you, mesh’la. You know I’ll keep you safe.”

“P-Promise?” you ask, trying not to grimace at how small your voice sounds.

“I promise,” Wrecker murmurs, his voice low and gravelly. All you can do is nod, dropping your head to rest against him, feeling yourself continuing to shake as his thumb gently circles between your shoulder blades.

“Do you need anything?” he asks, his voice softened. “Is there somethin’ I can do to make it better?”

“I-I don’t know,” you whisper, still shivering all over despite your best attempt to stop the uncontrollable spasms.

You don’t know how to explain it, don’t know how to tell him without sounding insane that you don’t feel 100% convinced that you’re real at the moment, but somehow, looking down at you with his brows pinched together and his expression contemplative, he figures it out anyway. 

He hums a low, thoughtful sound within his chest before taking your hand between his, slowly guiding it up and beneath his shirt until your palm is pressed against the slow, steady beat of his heart.

“Breathe, cyar’ika,” he whispers, his hand still idly tracing the back of yours as he holds it there. “This is real, I promise. We’re both real, and we’re safe, and I’ve got you.”

He’s been through this particular song and dance with you many times before. By now, he knows and has learned the hard way that asking you to name five things you can see, four things you can hear, etc is often times not very helpful, only serving to stress you out further when it’s too hard for you to form the words because there isn’t a part of you that just won’t stop shaking against him.

But this though. Warm, slightly flushed bare skin beneath yours. His heartbeat is tangible, real, too vivid and too present for even the most realistic of dreams to be able to replicate. His strength, which he could so easily use against you if he wanted to, is only used to hold you gently now, the strong, comforting bulk of him, his muscles settled against you is grounding like a weighted blanket, keeping you tethered to the real and holding your thoughts back from spiraling.

“There we go,” he says in a soft murmur, lips against your hair. He’s begun to rock you gently, still cradled to his chest as your shaking slowly ebbs and subsides, leaving you limp and boneless within his arms. “Doin’ so good for me, sweetheart. You’re okay.”

You shiver, only this time it’s not out of fear. It’s out of a visceral, pure relief that floods through you as you look up into his warm, amber eyes that are bright with attentiveness and concern. 

“You're real,” you whisper, your voice cracking as you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek. You feel the resulting upward tilt of his lips and he smiles, warm, soft eyes melting with tender, sweet love as he nods his head.

“I’m real,” he confirms, reaching down to bring your hand to his lips, leaving a slow, soft kiss along the back of each knuckle. “And so are you, sweet girl.”

You nod, little by little melting into his strong embrace, and for a while the cockpit is silent save for the soft, synchronized patterns of your breathing as Wrecker’s fingers lightly stroke through your hair.

“It’s still not mornin’ yet,” he says, his voice quiet, cautious. “Do you wanna...maybe lie down for a bit and see if—”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished his sentence. 

“No,” you say, uncaring that your voice sounds petulant like that of a child. “I can’t, Wrecker. It isn’t…my bed…it doesn’t feel safe right now.”

Your fingers curl within the material of his shirt, struggling to find the words to explain that the only thing, the only place that feels safe for you right now is here in his arms while he holds you, keeping you grounded...keeping you feeling like you’re real.

“Easy, cyar’ika, ‘s okay.”

He turns your hand over, pressing a quick kiss to the inside of your wrist. 

“I’ll think of somethin’,” he promises, and sure enough, a few moments later, he has.

You watch as he returns from the bunk room, arms laden with pillows and blankets, biting your lip as you tilt your head.

“Where’d you get all those?” you ask, because even with yours and his bedding combined, it wouldn’t be this much.

“Tech’s pillow almost always ends up on the floor, and he usually ends up kicking his blanket off without even noticing during the night,” he explains, offering a small, sheepish grin.

You watch him as he arranges pillows on the floor, only sparing one which he places over his folded legs. 

“Come here, sweetheart,” he beckons, and uncharacteristically timid, you do, letting him arrange you as you settle.

“This one is yours,” he says with careful and precise movements while wrapping a warm and familiar blanket around you. “This one is mine.” 

You blush because before he even says it, you can already tell because the blanket smells like him. 

“And this one,” he says with a flourish that makes you quietly giggle before he gently wraps you up in the last of the three blankets, “is Tech’s, and don’t worry,” he adds, being sure to tuck the blanket beneath your chin, “I’m sure he won’t mind. Now lie down for me, cyar’ika. I’ve got you.”

He gently eases you into a lying position, your head resting against the pillow that’s settled across his lap. It’s now that you realize he’s effectively swaddled you within the blankets, wrapping you up tightly like you’re in some kind of blanket burrito. You sigh, snuggling contentedly down into the soft pile of bedding. 

It is safe, and his hand is in your hair, gently playing with the strands, and that, too, feels safe. You stifle a yawn, only now realizing how tired, how exhausted, really, you feel, and that as well, you know is because you’re safe.

Not only that, you realize. Specifically, it’s because you feel safe with him. Nowhere else, no one else has been able to provide that kind of comfort and surety, and you let out a breath, nuzzling your cheek against his hand when he strokes it, like a tooka asking for more pets. From the low, contented sound he makes within his chest, you don’t think he minds very much as he obliges.

“Close your eyes, mesh’la,” he coaxes, watching you as your eyes begin to flutter. “I promise I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You’re reluctant, because you don’t want to fall back into sleep and its sometimes untrustworthy, careless hands. But you’d also do anything for Wrecker, and really he’s not actually asking you to sleep. He only wants for you to get some rest however you can manage it. So, with some trepidation, you do, his thumb gently brushing along your cheek as you finally allow your eyes to close.

When it’s morning, when you do wake up from a peaceful sleep that you somehow manage to fall into, he’s still there. Strong, OnGard and protective but so, so gentle and soft as he touches you, keeping you safe through the night, just as he promised to do. 

•Thank you to @freesia-writes and @snotbuggle for these wonderful Wrecker themed dividers😊

•If you enjoyed this work, please consider leaving a comment and/or reblog. :-) They are very appreciated

[the-spite-of-a-dandelion]

For the Foolish Pairing Fest: Niko (aka The Principal) and the Night Nurse.

April total snuck up on me, so I didn't end up doing much, but under the cut I put little like, bits of a story idk.

The Night Nurse looked at the stack of papers on her desk, practically threatening to topple over. She didn't have to, technically, reorganize those dead boys' case files, but they were truly god awful. She gave up and simply put her head down on her desk. The Night Nurse sighed, and said "I swear, if I have to read another case titled after a pun, or using some form of alliteration, I may yet take my first vaction since 500 BCE."

"Might I join you then?" The Principal had apparently 'appeared,' for lack of a better word, whilst The Night Nurse was preoccupied.

"My, apologies, I was simply..." The Night Nurse quickly composed herself, sitting with perfect posture. She resisted the urge to try and fix her messed up hair, and instead kept her arms folded in front of her on the desk.

"No need, truly. I had come to discuss how this assingment was working out for you?"

"I am currently reorganizing the filing system," The Night Nurse motioned to stack of papers detailing various cases.

"Well, that sounds as though it's going well," The Principal smirked, then took a chair from some other corner of the room and brought it over to the desk. "Might I join you?"

"Doesn't your job... well, quite frankly put you above such things as paperwork?"

"I, 'quite frankly' enjoy a bit of work to do with the nitty gritty details. I have excellent reading comprehesion in fact."

"I, wouldn't doubt that but-"

The Principal had already started looking though the papers and read aloud, "'The Case of the Trivial Tangerine,' those three are certainly creative are they not?"

The Night Nurse muttered, "Creative isn't exactly the word I'd use," but The Principal was already putting on her glasses and reading about the case of the Tangerine.

The Night Nurse sat across The Principal at a little round wooden table. The room in which they sat was only slightly less bland than the rest of the Lost and Found Department. It had grey carpeting, and dull yellowish walls. There were various paintings hung about, but they were mostly abtract, or of landscapes wit hmuted colors.

The Principal leaned forwards at the table. The Night Nurse knew her quite well, (one could say that for sure,) by now, but she still made her a bit nervous when leaning into her role as her boss.

"I had never thought of you as much of a rule-breaker, darling."

The Night Nurse pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Reports and such get to me pretty slowly, as you know, but I just got word about what you did back in Port Townsend," The Principal had a quite serious look to her face, in the way her eyes seemed to bore into The Night Nurse's soul. The Principal cocked her head to the side, "You didn't file form E436592 before opening a portal to Hell."

"I can explain! You see, that spider had-"

"Oh no, don't worry, I won't tell anyone," The Princial smiled. "I totally ship those two as well."

"Oh, well thank yo- You what?"

(This next one is the one I did the little doodle for.)

The Principal stood in the center of the Dead Boy Detectives Agency office. The boys were in their usual positions at their desk, and Crystal on the sofa. The Night Nurse had only just about gotten there, and still had her wife's coffee in hand.

The Principal cleared her throat, gaining the attention of the whole room, "I am aware of the research you all have been doing as of late. You have been trying to keep this from me. You've been trying to find your friend Niko. I would have no objection to this, but I do not want you to waste your time - please, let me finish! I had wished to keep this from you, but I feel I must tell you now that I know what you have been spending your time doing. I am Niko Sasaki."

Crystal and the boys immediatly began speaking over one another, arguing with, and not believing The Principal. At least that is what The Night Nurse assumed, though she couldn't quite make out a full sentence from any of them.

She did however notice The Principal, (or Niko rather,) sigh, and mutter, "'The truth will out' I suppose."

The Night Nurse couldn't help but think back to a girl whom she had sat with while she waited for her friends to make it back from the underworld. Who had pestered her about every little rule in her handbook and then just used that knowledge she gained to help the people she cared about. A girl who was bubbly and sweet to the point of ridiculousness.

The Night Nurse lifted up her wife's coffee to look at the label listing all the different things it had in it, and considered her own morning. How she had texted her wife and asked her about a coffee order so full of every type of sweet thing on that plane that she could never remember it. She thought of a woman who could switch from being her boss, serious and sure of everything she said, to then being her wife, just a little to full of light for the Night Nurse to imagine she could work where she herself did. She thought of the lady who had offered to help her with a bit of meaningless paperwork just to get to know her better.

"That... quite explains some things actually."

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumpuary Day 17-18

Prompt: Headache (alt)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

You had not been home long when Daryl came shuffling through the door. He had gone on a run, leaving at the ass-crack of dawn but they were back by early afternoon with two boxes of medical supplies as fruits of their labor. Then he had been helping to move the solar panels and work on the battery hookup with Eugene. You were certain he was thrilled about that. 

You knew he hadn’t stopped; hadn’t told anyone he needed a break. It’s just who he was. Help until the job was done. It was a given that he’d be exhausted. You’d let him relax, maybe shower, while you made a quick dinner. 

Except… he stumbled after closing the door, the tips of the fingers on his left hand pressed against his temple. He didn’t so much as wave before depositing himself face first onto the couch, long legs hanging over the edge of the cushions. If it wasn’t so out of character for him, you’d find it comical. 

“Uh, hi.” You leaned into the room before actually entering. “Rough day?” There was a muffled mhm. “Hungry?” Another muted answer, but this one was mm-mm. God, you wanted to laugh, but that would need to wait until you found out a little more about why your boyfriend came home and immediately attempted to suffocate himself on the living room furniture. 

You knelt slowly, rubbing your hand over the warm leather on his back. You were pretty sure the next noise was a sigh. 

“Are you okay?” You ventured, probing a little more while leaving space in between questions so as not to irritate the archer. You thought he might have said super and was a bit dry, but it was hard to tell with the thick fabric pressed against his face. 

You shifted to properly sit on the floor, moving your hand in random patterns over his back. Maybe if you were patient, he would decide air was a good thing and sit up to enjoy it. You didn’t have anywhere else to be. It took about five minutes for him to very slowly roll his head toward you, expression drawn and eyes squinted. Uh oh. Your Dixon sense was tingling. 

“What’s wrong?”

He visibly attempted a scowl but gave up after only a brief effort. “Head.”

Oh, the jokes you could make. Not the time, Y/N. 

“Headache.” It wasn’t a question. It was blatantly obvious after he’d given you a clue. Judging from his flushed skin and the tension nearly vibrating over his form, it was a bad one. “Okay, just a second.” Daryl didn’t normally get headaches, so you were unsure how to treat one in a man that never complained and despised feeling weak or vulnerable. As you pulled the shades and closed the curtains, you glanced back at him. 

Weak was a fitting word. If a herd plowed through right now, he’d probably thank them when they started to eat him. 

With the room sufficiently darkened, you crouched in front of him, brushing his hair away from his eyes with a barely there swipe of your fingertips. “I’m going to go get a few things for you. Just relax here until I get back.”

“S’okay.” He mumbled, his arm falling away from where it had been tucked at his side. He let his hand hit the floor with little care. “Don’ need ta go outta yer way. M’good.”

A tilt of your head and tender smile should have been enough of a response, but just in case it wasn’t. “You know better than that. Sit tight.” You backed away from him in case he was about to offer any other objections but he surrendered and turned his hand with a thumbs up. 

You made a list in your head as you shuffled around the house. Pain killers. Tylenol would be okay but you were hoping for one of the stronger ones he’d been given when he’d broken his ribs. He was just as stubborn then so there were probably at least a couple left. 

While on your search, you were passing by other things you needed. Washcloths. The small basin that you reserved for cleaning him up when he came home bloody. And eureka! Pills! 

You contemplated getting him some comfortable clothes but the less he moved right then, the better. As an afterthought, you toed off your boots, quieting your steps significantly when you descended the stairs. If he noticed you bypassing him to disappear into the kitchen, he didn’t voice it. He’d need a glass of water to take the pills though you were certain he wasn’t beyond swallowing them dry. You filled the basin with cool water as well and strategically balanced your burden while padding back into the living room. 

Placing the items on the end table, you leaned down to press the most gentle kiss to the crown of his head. His eyes were closed but you were almost certain he wasn’t asleep.

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to move around for just a minute and then you can stay still as long as you want. Deal?” 

“Don’ wanna.” He groaned, reminding you very much of a grumpy toddler. Your hands drifted to his shoulders, pulling up as gingerly as you could to motivate him. 

“Come on.” His eyes were squeezed shut, jaw clenched against the throbbing in his skull. Those things were counterproductive when dealing with a headache but if you could get him to take the pills and lie down more comfortably, maybe he’d relax a little. “I got the leftover strong ones so this should start helping pretty quickly.”

“Okay.” He was so quiet and looked so small at that moment. You wanted to wrap him up and hold onto him forever. He held out his palm and you handed over the medication, barely getting the glass in front of him in time for him to swallow with the water. 

“Okay, now you get pampered.” You crawled to the far end of the couch next to your supplies and sat, patting your thighs. “Your pillow awaits, handsome.” You were barely able to stifle the giggle when he rolled his eyes before promptly pressing his palm against his forehead with a drawn out whine of ow. 

He stayed silent while stretching out on his back, his head resting on your lap. You smiled down at him while one hand dipped cloth into the water and squeezed out the excess. 

“You don’t have to do anything. I’ve got you.” You were gentle and careful when lifting his head slightly to place the cool cloth over the back of his neck. He winced at the movement regardless, making you frown. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.” He murmured, but you still felt a pang of guilt. 

The second cloth now wrung out, you folded it and placed it over his eyes. When he melted deeper into the couch with a sigh, you grinned triumphantly. That part out of the way, you pressed two fingers, gently but firmly, against each of his temples and began massaging the area. You could feel the pulsing there, so too much would not be beneficial. You began to alternate between that and carefully scratching your fingernails over his scalp to stimulate blood flow. 

After no more than five minutes, before you even needed to rewet the cloths, he was softly snoring on your lap. Still, you continued, determined to make sure the headache was gone before stopping. 

An hour later, you had removed the cloths and stopped massaging. Your fingers carded idly through his hair as he slept. He had turned onto his side and pressed his face into your stomach, not a single line of pain left showing. 

Daryl so seldom got to relax that seeing him like that and just being able to take it all in was something you found you wanted to do over and over again. Maybe you’d start being more appreciative of the time you could spend watching him sleep in the moonlight from the bedroom window. You knew that was going to be your new favorite bedtime ritual. 

A deep breath drew you from your thoughts and back to him, his eyes fluttering but barely opening. 

“Thanks, sunshine.” He whispered against your shirt, back asleep before you could reply. 

“Anytime, love. Anytime.”

[sukioyakio]

LOSER!BOYFRIEND

Me and my pookie talking about things and then one thing leads to another😏

AND THEN LOSERBOYFRIEND THOUGHTS KEPT COMING THOUGH!

PARING: LOSERBOYFRIEND! Miguel x Reader

WARNING:May have smut content,but will be mostly FLUFF

SUMMARY: LoserBOYFRIEND!Miguel headcannons 💓

DID NOT PROREAD DID NOT EDITED

LOSERBOYFRIEND!miguel who works at an lego store because it was the only job his gym rat looking ass found,but he enjoy the job non the less,and plus he's the cashier meaning the front view of everything:)) (of course he love it,since he can get free Lego sets for him and for you)

LOSERBOYFRIEND!Miguel Who is Hardly more then happy to see you,come by his work job to say hi.Just your smile would make him down bad for you like you have no idea.But what makes him happy even more is That you come to give him some home made lunch.And then there he just got hard the tightness in his pants was unbearable,it felt like at any moment he was going to release his steman in his pants. He was lose in the thought of you being his wife and how he'll be abke to have that smile to wake up too.

LOSERBOYFRIEND!Miguel Who is hella nervous when you went over his house,especially in holiday days.My guy would sweat the most before you even arrive,he'll clean his house not once not twice but four times just to be prepare,he know he an absolute Loser,but he just want you to know that his trying and that even if he doesn't have the best of relationship advice (which is none 😅😢) HE WILL BE THERE!!!

LOSERBOYFREIND!Miguel who know after dating you for like 5 mouth,he will and know that he is gonna go inside your pretty little apartment,and knowing that makes him nervous.One because your smell it addicting to sent, and two it because he really never been at an girl apartment or stuff so he reallly doesnt know how to act.And so his cute loser ass search up "how to act when your in your girlfriend"s house" (HE IS SUCH AN TOTAL DORK AND dont tell me he would be all night researching about these things) and so when he finally got inside your house.

THis man is hard already,it like you put an drug on the air in your house.He was for sure that you could see his dick bulge through his pants.Already he has his flush out face and he barley inside your place.

"are you ok babe?" you asks sweetly,with your big doe eyes looking that him.The same eyes he has dreams about in dark hours of the night.

loserboyfreind!miguel nodded to your sweet question,As he hide his stuipd (big) little boner from you.He would get embrassed if you saw,and or so overthinks that you would leave him because of him thinking of you in an sexual way (My guy overthinks an lot but cant bring himself to tell you how he feels and really want to make himself feel like an good boyfreind even if he an total loser about it )

Walking around your place was like an new terrioty for him,he would particauly look and study each object in your room through the living room.

But when you took him to your room his dick got more stiffen in his pants and so he quickly ask where is the restroom to "use the bathroom",

WHERE HE IS AN TOTAL GREEK FOR VIDEO GAMES AND SCIENCE, but when you come into his life,he had no idea how to be a boyfriend.BRO WOULD HAVE AN NERD LOOK BUT would tried so hard to look presentable for you. 

CUZ YOU DESERVE IT,but he’s broke and work in an Lego store and so GET AN SET OF THE FLOWER AND Chocolate BOX LEGOS SET AND WOULD BUILT IT FOR YOU,and would be embarrassed TO SHOW HIS FACE when his shoving his gift to you,HAVING A BLUSHING FACE. 

GRUMBLING UNDERNEATH HIS mouth 

“I-ii- I know is not the b-best gift,but please accept it”he says while looking down with a shy expression and shoving it to you.

you wonder how an built gaint is an such an adorable loser.boyfriend You had an smile on your face. 

“Thank you for your gift” As you crane your neck and you were on tipped toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 

HE LOOKED SO HAPPY SO APPRECIATIVE,the second later he would have a nose bleed from your kiss.THIS MEN NEVER HAD PHYSICAL TOUCH. 

(That all I have 😭😭😭)

HAPPY VALENTINES 💝

[bugsmunched]

" Toy and Owner " - Derek Danforth X Male! Reader

Summary: Derek gets off the phone with a particularly annoying employee and his pretty little toy knows just how to ease the pain.

Contents: AMAB! Reader, he/him pronouns used for reader, Oral sex (M receiving), drug usage mention, vaping, degradation, hair pulling, consensual hitting, choking, Derek is mean,spoiled brat Derek, Reader is just seen as an object, Dick piercings, spitting, face fucking,

SMUT UNDER THE CUT! MINORS DNI!!!!!

ASKS ARE OPEN! IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS PLEASE ASK!!

You weren't exactly sure what to call the relationship between you and Derek Danforth. You certainly weren't boyfriends by any means, as he simply saw you as a toy that should do nothing except sit still, look pretty, and pleasure him whenever he sees fit, which is quite frequent. But you weren't friends either, so you couldn't be friends with benefits, or even really fuck buddies. What the two of you were was simply Toy and Owner.

You tapped your fingers against the window of the limousine that the two of you were in together, trying your best to block out his angry words towards one of his many scum-bag employees.

"- maybe you should try and do your fucking job, and then it wouldn't be on the fucking line! If I don't see improvements in a week, you're done. " Derek threatened before he hung up the phone, letting it fall into his lap as he pulled out a vape. Typically the vapes were laced with some sort of drug that would send the sociopathic con artist to another dimension, but since you came along, he found the drug of you far more addicting.

You knew better than to say anything, knowing that the CEO couldn't give less of a shit about your opinion or advice. So instead of saying anything, you simply slipped out of your seat and crawled in front of him, sitting on your knees and looking up at him, placing your head in his lap. His free hand found its way into your hair, tangling itself in the strands.

"slut. " he spat, venom dripping from his words, making it seem like he truly hated you. You didn't really care if he hated you or not, after all, it wasn't your job to be liked by him, it was your job to please him, to make him forget about everything else.

He let go of your hair and shoved your head off of his lap, leaning back against the seat of the limo. He held the vape up to his lips and took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before exhaling, blowing the cloud directly into your face. " Well? Get to work. I can't wait all night. " He demanded, arrogance filling the air.

Your hands quickly fumbled with his belt, struggling with the stupidly expensive and quite honestly useless accessory. He always wore his pants too tight and never needed a belt, but to him, that stupid belt looked cool since it was expensive, so he wore it. Finally, you got the belt undone, moving onto the button and zipper of his pants.

He sighed exasperatedly, rolling his eyes at how long it was taking for you to just get his cock out. " You're a pretty useless sex toy, you know that? Can't even get me out of my pants in a timely manner, hurry the fuck up, bitch. " He huffed, smacking your cheek lightly, as a warning. You knew that if you didn't hurry up, he'd get far more impatient.

You rolled your eyes in response, going to pull his dick out when a hand went around your throat. " What the fuck was that? " He growled a little bit, squeezing the sides of your neck. As much of an asshole as he was, he would never hurt you past what you had agreed on. Would he purposely hurt others? Absolutely. But you? You were special. You were his property, and what was the point in damaging your own property?

"Sorry, sir. " You mumbled out an apology that both of you knew you didn't mean. He let go of your throat and huffed, taking another hit of his vape and blowing the cloud into the air.

"Good boy. Now, get to work, I expect to cum before we get to the event. " He demanded, a smug look on his face as you nodded in compliance.

You reached into his pants and pulled out his hard on, subconsciously licking your lips at the sight. No matter how many times you did this, it still mildly surprised you every time just how big he was. Jacobs ladder piercings ran up his length, each piercing designating an inch of length. Without hesitation, you leant forward, wrapping your lips around his tip. He gave a little whimper in response, his hand finding itself tangled messily in your hair once again.

Slowly, you began to push your head down, the ball ends of the piercings hitting the sides of your mouth. You were always careful to take him slowly, as to avoid any discomfort for the both of you. If you went too fast, you could accidentally tug at a piercing, which you learned he did not like. And although he didn't mind seeing you gag and choke on his cock, along with the mass amount of saliva, you didn't enjoy the bruises that showed up in your throat the next day.

After relaxing your throat a bit more, you pushed your head down even further and soon had your nose buried in the neatly trimmed pubes that rested at the base of his cock. Spit bubbled out from the sides of your mouth, running down his balls and pooling on the seat beneath him. He groaned and pushed down on your head, holding you there as he ground his hips upwards, the tip of his dick grinding against your throat causing you to gag even more.

" fuck, perfect little hole for me to fuck...shit I'm just gonna fuck your mouth, alright? Cause I know you hate having to do your job. So all you have to do is sit there and fucking take it. " He hummed softly. Guess you were going to get bruises after all.

He pulled your head up slightly, giving himself some room to begin thrusting up into your mouth, his tip slamming against the back of your throat repeatedly, which caused you to choke, drool falling down your face and onto the floor below you.

"God, you're such a messy slut, aren't you? You always make such a pathetic mess! It's hysterical how pathetic you are, dumb bitch. " He spat as he pulled you off his cock. You panted heavily, tears pricking in your eyes. Just as you managed to catch your breath, he shoved you back down onto his cock and began relentlessly thrusting in and out of your mouth once again.

He was using your mouth like a little fleshlight, and you both loved it. To him, you were nothing but an object for him to use for his pleasure. Once again, simply put, you were a toy and he was your owner.

Tears spilled out of your eyes, rolling down your cheeks and mixing with your drool on your chin and his cock. He loved seeing you cry because you couldn't take his cock. "pathetic. " He hissed as he pulled you off his cock again, just to spit in your face and force you back down.

After a little while of choking on his cock and nearly drowning in your own spit, the bleach blonde above you started to whimper and his breath began to get shaky, tell tale signs that he was close to cumming.

"fuck, little slut, if you get even a drop of cum on the leather interior of this limo, you'll have it coming. " Derek warned you, his thrusts becoming sloppy and less rhythmic.

As he got closer, he got louder and louder, not caring if the limo driver could hear him. That driver has heard everything that had ever happened in that limo, including the time Derek fucked you till you passed out on his cock.

He whimpered loudly, taking another long hit of his vape, exhaling with a loud moan as cum began to spill down your throat. You gagged a little bit at the suddenness, but managed to swallow each and every drop, not getting a single one on the leather interior.

He pulled you off his dick, whining a little bit at the loss of warmth. " At least someone knows how to do their job around here. " He cupped your face with his hand and pat it gently. " Good job, slut. " He hummed a bit. It was rare that he praised you, and often times when he did, it was because he was so sex drunk that he didn't realize what he was doing.

He stuffed himself back into his pants, rubbing the stubble on his chin, patting his lap. " Get off the floor and get back up here. " He commanded, watching as you scrambled to your feet and then placed yourself back in his lip, leaning against his chest. He held the vape up to your lips, offering it to you. Just as you took a bit, his phone began to ring. Once he picked up, he soon enough began yelling again. Looks like your job wasn't quite done yet.

[atlantis-just-drowned]

i'm back with another request favorite writer 😼, i was wondering if you could do Sun n Moon/Reader who's the daycare manager.

Essentially they help tidy, manage schedules, supplies, ect???

(sorry for not leaving more notes on your posts, tumblr doesn't show me ur stuff often 😭😭)

A/N: Hiii thank you so much for your kind words and patience?? My motivation has been on the floor but I'm trying to make it work somehow! Anyway, here is some mildly-annoying-coworkers to friends (to lovers) for your heart! :D

Sun & Moon x daycare manager!reader relationship headcanons

Please reblog this post! Likes make posts die :(

Masterlist

When you first got hired as the Daycare manager, you work was... Well.... Tough

To say the least.

Sun's sassy attitude and constant micro-aggressions were really getting to your nerves

And Moon.....

Well

Let's say you sometimes wondered if he saw you as his boss or his toy

He WILL jest around and stare at you while chuckling instead of following your commmands

Both of them don't really like the idea of having a human supervising them

I mean they're doing a super neat job on their own!! They don't need you!! Why would management send you here?!?

But surprisingly, instead of quitting

You actively try to work with them.

Unexpected I know.

You're not just bossing them around and yelling when they don't do what you want!!

You actually communicate with them to explain the goal of your missions and ask for their ideas when they refuse to do things your way!!

Okay to be honest how it ends up working out is truly a mystery to you

But after a while of almost constant bargaining

Welp the bargaining starts to lessen.

They do the activities you prepared instead of announcing a completely different unrelated thing to the kids

They don't argue as much about the schedule for naptimes

Hell, you can finally catch a fucking break

Of course you let them know how much you're thankful to them for agreeing with stuff (finally)

Sun also starts to get a little less mean, thankfully

You're greater at your job than he thought you'd be!! Different than the managers they had before, for sure, but it's a good thing!! You actually adapt your work and the schedule for them, and not despite them!!

He might start to take a liking for you

After a long while

I mean you truly are the first human handler to not treat them as objects

So of course it takes time for them to trust you

But Sun eventually does because he's just too much of a sweetheart

Moon just... Teases you a bit less. If that means anything.

(it does)

Or at least it's not mean teasing anymore

He's still a Creature™️ tho

Sun still acts confident and almost cocky at times, but it's not passive-agressive anymore

He can even appear charming at times, now that his jokes and remarks aren't meant to make you quit your job

And of course both argue from time to time

Or well, show their dislike of your commands in their own ways I guess

Their "own ways" being that Moon crawls up to the ceiling and sits in a corner upside-down to pout

And Sun just outright refuses to execute whatever you told him to do (and WILL get snappy if you insist)

The trips at Parts N Service are the worst, but you manage to get them down there two times out of three

But overall your relationship with the both of them is getting better and better everyday!

And you genuinely feel so glad the day they give you a friendship drawing!! You're officially their friend now!!

You almost teared up, but no one needs to know that

And then, they gave you another one

And another one

And MANY other ones

And plenty of them both holding your hands

Overtime, you became their bestest friend!!

Who could have thought you would end up being so close!!

Well you, at least, didn't expect it

Not that you're complaining!

You had to admit you grew VERY attached to them too

But oh boy was this development unexpected.

[davrinsleftpectoral]

Veilguard appreciation week day 6

Minrathous - justice- “you know, I think you might be trouble”

@veilguard-appreciation-week

When this is over

Summary: the gang all survived defeating the gods. And my Rook, Turvi, is just happy.

==

Turvi could hardly believe that it was over. He’d been hunting Solas with Varric and Harding for more than a year. Even though they were no longer with him, he’d finished the job, with the help of the other members of the veilguard.

Ghilan’nain was dead. Elgar’nan was dead. And Solas was tied to the veil and now in the fade with his beloved inquisitor.

Bellara was back, and seemed better? Less blighted at least, if there were degrees of such a thing. The rest of the gang came out relatively unscathed, with ordinary minor hurts.

Then there was Neve. She was the most incredible person he’d ever met. And she loved him. He really had no idea how he got so lucky. Never in all the ages would he have thought he could meet someone like her, and that she’d fall in love with him of all people.

Before the final battle, she wouldn’t let him talk about the future. And that was fine with Turvi. He wouldn’t push her. He loved his life in Rivain, but it paled in comparisson to the thought of being able to wake up next to Neve every day. He wondered if Isabela would still let him go on jobs from time to time, even if he didn’t live there anymore. Though working with Neve and maybe even the shadow dragons would probably keep him plenty busy.

These were the things running through his mind as he climbed down the blight tentacle from the Archon’s palace. After everything they’d done, it was criminal that they still had to climb down.

As he got lower, he could see other people in the city. Helping each other out of blight, happy to be alive. At last they made it down. Suddenly, there was cheering? The people in the city were cheering for them? He heard things like “the heroes!” And “look it’s the veilguard!” He couldn’t help the big smile he gave them. This was a level of glory even Isabela wouldn’t be able to scoff at. The cheering and clapping and yelling continued and spread across the city.

He waved happily back. He couldn’t wait to celebrate with them. Mostly he couldn’t wait to celebrate with his friends. Turvi looked behind and beside him. He was happy to see that his friends’ smiles matched his own. They all deserved some happiness and celebration. Especially Neve. She rarely let herself enjoy getting a win, and he could see her smile was genuine.

It was Bellara that started it. She clapped and jumped up and down a few times, and then grabbed Davrin into a big hug. Davrin laughed loudly, surprised but equally happy. He reached over and grabbed Lucanis and added him into their hug. From there everyone threw themselves together into one big group hug. They really had done it. Together.

Though Turvi could have quite happily stayed in the hug for hours, he pulled back a little to look at his friends. They were smiling and laughing and more than one had misty eyes. And Turvi had an idea

Before he could think any better of it, he let go of the group and grabbed Neve’s hand. He pulled her from the group hug directly into a kiss. He knew she didn’t like big public displays of affection, but he couldn’t help it. They made it! Together! And she didn’t object but rather leaned into the kiss and deepened it.

He loved her so much. He couldn’t imagine his life without her in it, and he never wanted that to happen. Neve pulled back for air, smiling fondly at him. Turvi was sure his grin was going to split his face.

Caught up in the moment he blurted out “Neve, marry me!”

Her eyes went wide and she went still. “What!” She choked.

“Neve, marry me,” he repeated. He really should have done this the right way. She deserved a special planned date and grand gestures and a ring. But he couldn’t let another day go by without her knowing just how much he loved her.

Neve laughed, though she wasn’t running away, which he took as a good sign. “This is crazy, Trouble. You know that right?”

“It’s not crazy. I love you, Neve.” How he wished he at least had a ring. Neve deserved a ring. He paused. Oh. But he had rings! He let go of her to pull the ring off his left pinky. It was a simple ring. Gold, with a small topaz set in it.

He held it in between them. “Marry me, Neve,” he said again.

She started smiling so that the crinkles by her eyes showed up. He loved those. Maybe he had her. “Well, it looks like I really am stuck with you.”

He almost forgot how to breathe. “But is that a yes?” He asked, needing to be sure.

“Yes!” She laughed as she began pulling off her glove.

He started to slide the ring onto her finger when he heard Bellara squeal. She threw herself at them while laughing and crying, and gathered them both into a hug. “Neve and Turvi are getting married!” She announced to the others, as if they hadn’t heard. He found himself and Neve at the center of her another group hug as the rest of them joined in.

“Hey!” It was Tarquin, he must be coming to check on them after they climbed down. “You guys all right over there? That’s an awful lot of hugging and crying.”

Turvi poked his head up out of the group hug and yelled back “She said yes!” He heard Neve groan. “What have I gotten into?” She asked softly. He couldn’t help but just continue smile at her.

“What?” Tarquin asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“They’re getting married!” Bellara shrieked. She almost sounded happier than Neve did.

“Gallus, did you hit your head?” Tarquin asked.

Neve was laughing again. She was so beautiful when she smiled. Turvi couldn’t help but pull her in for another kiss. He knew the cleanup of the blight and the mess from the gods would be long, hard work. But this? This made it all worth it. And with Neve at his side, everything was going to be just fine.

[zeondraws]

It is 4AM in the morning, I should hit the bed asap. But I needed some time on my own tonight, because I've been supressing feelings way too much the past months. (Thought post about random thoughts, no clue if they make sense it's 5AM when I post this)

I found it really hard to talk to friends about my emotions as of recent. One reason might be, that I still suffer some pain I endured from the old work enviroment.

Somehow I often just want to be left alone, I feel very drained most of the time. But that often leads to a loop effect and I isolate myself further.

Like, at the old workplace I was expected to do something constantly, if I wasn't working on anything for over 3min I'd get scolded or yelled at. Or my coworker would become an adult baby and behave strangely. The other coworkers never saw anything wrong with him, so I was extremely afraid that everyone else had something against me. My old boss would side with him from time to time. The constant demand to stay productive was so draining.

In the end I got replaced, I mean I thankfully found a new job by then. But a new person came in, another inexperienced young person who seemed nice and all. Not sure how she is doing in that place, either she fits right in, or my coworker is making her endure the same pain, or he just overworks himself as he usually does. A person who had my job before I came, became extremely demotivated there and simply left to another workplace.

I try to explain this a bit to highlight some difficulties I am experiencing atm... I don't talk to family about my feelings that much. I tried but, they get easily offended if I vent too much. I have no called my dad back in a while, I already know when I call him back he will only be offended. Or maybe I am spiraling rn. My head makes things appear worse than they actually are.

You guys see how much stuff I have been doing on tumblr the past months or so. I don't remember how long it's been, but... I am still in this mindset of constantly working and staying productive. I rest when I can but I always get the feeling "I have to stay productive" and work on stuff, even when I am sick. In a way it helps to not fall into thoughht spirals, tho then I don't give myself enough space to rest.

I don't know what my end goal with this endless productivity is supposed to be, I want to be helpful in some way and feel like I belong somewhere. But even right now I feel like something is missing... I can't grasp this thought, I don't know what my end goal is. Been messing with fmodel so much to get the game work on this for datamining, I posted a thread on the fmodel server and they said the game is fully working with it. Which suprised me, that I was able to achieve that. Was I the first one to do so? I always thought there is someone better than me already. I often just think I will be some replaceable object, where someone else just takes my place. And this thought... spirals in a way- where I think very less of me. Stuff like I will be forgotten anyways or hmm someone better comes.

My family treated me like an object at times, not letting me decide what to do. Old coworker did the same and I am expected to just agree to everything they say. I tried extremely hard to fight back at the old workplace but I was always met with a wall.

Sometimes I would struggle venting to friends, because when I felt the lowest I get very clingy. I think when I saw Muir in game I noticed some similarity in him in me for example. Even tho I hate to admit that thought, but I have gotten way better at being less clingy. Maybe it's because I grew up a bit more. I definitely ain't the same like 4 years ago. But not to sidetrack too much... sometimes I would vent to friends and they'd bombard me with advice or, maybe some advice felt off for me. One friend once said that we're replaceable (job related) and that didn't sit right with me. Some of this advice would put me off so much that I would stop talking about my feelings with anyone, or just one small friendgroup. But I don't mention a lot there. I think... I think what I can see with myself is, I distance myself so much from everyone, I don't dm people to have a normal chat (I think I get very confused when I hear people dm each other all the time, what do people dm each other for...?I wouldn't know what to talk about), maybe I hang out on servers. I don't want to look at my main phone because suddenly so much makes me nervous again. I want to be alone the entire time and the meds stop some emotions from popping up.

So I have random outbursts where I would cry. and I really need to sit down after sleep and find a new group therapy.. today

I put ridiculous standards on myself sometimes, not wanting to appear weak and appear "professional". But my imagination of being professional is basically be emotionless and work without problems. Tho this doesn't make sense, perhaps I worry too much since I noticed some people really like what I do here. And I don't want to let people down in that regard. but I don't know how.

Earlier I was debating on wether it is strong if I show my weakness or if it's better to hide it. Tho hiding doesn't bring much for me, it's rather bad.

Yknow an earlier post where I mentioned I really like Roper? I get the feeling one of the reasons I find him interesting is, because the way he appears. He doesn't seem to show emotions that much, rather monotone and seems to be a hard working individual. Who sadly needs to do way more because Rennick makes things more difficult. Tho like, even if you see him in Marine Control later... he just suffers in silence. Ain't like Trots who went full bananas, or Muir feeling extremely anxious and all. Or Addair wanting to call his kids and Rennick just flat maniac. Roper just, sits there and tries to avoid saying much. Only thing he says is to keep Rennick away. Maybe the deleted soundfile of the scene says otherwise, but in my view it feels like idk he just ain't somebody who would talk about his feelings. Maybe Roper is some visual imagination of what I think a professional is, but I think he probably has different problems that could be way worse. Suppressing feelings is not good, I still have a lot to work on, on myself.

I am sadly getting too tired to continue this string of thoughts...I always feel very awkward posting my feelings on the web. I wouldn't know where else to thow them.

I will post something silly after sleep. I made some dumb screenshots ingame that literally made me giggle for half an hour ioudhwioeu. Okay, goodnight

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fics With Titles That Start With O (4) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three

Objects in Mirror (ao3) - gaydreaming

Summary: When Dan is doing some last minute shopping at Herrods, he finds himself drawn to a pretty skirt, and he knows that he shouldn't... then again, why shouldn't he?

Ocean Eyes (ao3) - easybubbyy

Summary: Dan and Phil as they work together on their world tour announcement, reflecting on their long-term partnership on set. The two take turns admiring each other throughout the day, exchanging glances and quiet moments. Both are eager to get home and finally spend some intimate time together, showing each other just how much they mean to one another...

October 19, 1209 (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: Phil had almost made it into town and was starting to feel relief. He had met no trouble, no roving bands, nothing to pull him from his way, for the nearly 20 mile journey from his parent’s village to Manchester.

A fic about bravery and wants.

of a feather (ao3) - plinythehotter

Summary: A stranger shows up at the secluded Wuthering Heights during a snowstorm and learns that the house has a history: one that begins with Katherine Lester's younger son and his... childhood friend. That's what they're calling it.

Of all the Someones (ao3) - Scuddleduck

Summary: There's a dead body in the house. All Dan knows is that he needs to help cover it up.

“Of course I still love you, why would you even ask me that?” (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: Dan has had to make a lot of horrible phone calls while deciding to take a year out of law school. But now he has this final call, and it’s the scariest one.

A ficlet about news and encouragement.

of fated encounters and hand-made soulmates (ao3) - ShiwiSins (IetjeSiobhan)

Summary: He’s smiling at Phil, like this entire embarrassing scene is just the opening meet-cute of a low quality rom-com, and Dan dislikes him immediately.

Or: They keep running into the same guy. Phil thinks it's fate. Dan thinks he'd like to see him piss off.

off the record (ao3) - jailedmoonshine

Summary: dan isn't in the mood to film a video, so phil makes sure he's in the mood

oh, baby, seasons change (ao3) - antiadvil

Summary: anon prompt: dnp sharing a bed in 2010 x them sharing a bed now :3

there is bedsharing in this fic, but more of the fic is spent discussing dan's laundry than spent in bed

"oh great, now im a furry" (ao3) - cloej88

Summary: This is a fic about Dan getting off on his giant teddy bear… Yeah. But it’s also a fic about trust and connection and vulnerability!

On Top of the World (ao3) - dnpangels

Summary: Dan Howell is known at Cedar Creek High School for being the star quarterback and for having dated every girl in the junior year. Phil Lester is known for almost always getting the lead in the school play and being a straight-A student. Dan is popular in the stereotypical way, while Phil is popular within the groups that he chooses to be a part of. Another thing that almost everyone knows is that Dan and Phil are definitely not friends.

An AU in which Dan is the school's quarterback, and Phil is a theater kid.

On Tour Bus Beds (ao3) - katiecal1013

Summary: “Best buddies can share a bed!” - Phil Lester, 2024

one & only (ao3) - daliddl

Summary: Dan just finished his very last We‘re All Doomed show in London and a certain unexpected guest is waiting for him in the dressing room.

One and Only (ao3) - clcprint

Summary: dan meets a new phil and his phil gets jealous.

or

phil loses the idgaf war

one good day (ao3) - SylvesterLester

Summary: If Dean is being so nice, it makes him think that he’s doing a good job being host, which makes him feel good. And Jack is seemingly less nervous than when he got out of the car, so he’s doing good.

The only one who isn’t doing good is Dan, who sits back a bit with a smile that looks, well, wrong. He knows when Dan really smiles. This isn’t it.

-

Set during BBC Big Weekend 2015

one more shot in Helsinki (ao3) - m_katiep

Summary: The tour has brought them to Helsinki. The night before the show Dan and Phil get to experience the hospitality of locals in the form of free shots. Phil gets tipsy and Dan gets jealous.

one night stand (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: Dan meets a stranger in a bar during after one of his shows on the We're All Doomed tour.

One of Those Days (ao3) - cats_with_no_tails

Summary: Based on the anecdote from Dan’s birthday stream that Phil dropped his ice cream and cried, featuring Autistic Phil + Dan comforting him during a meltdown.

one of your girls (or your homies) (ao3) - ppp_pbabe

Summary: they fuck(tm). that's literally it.

One single thread of gold (tied me to you) (ao3) - Lesbianphan

Summary: Just a cute little fluffy one to celebrate the 15 years of Dan and Phil the best way I know how: through RPFing, of course!

one for sorrow, two for joy (ao3) - buskingalbatross

Summary: One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told.

Seven tiny festive scenes on the Isle of Man.

One Week (ao3) - cosmic_angel_writes

Summary: Dan Howell is a rich, spoiled, brat who gets whatever he wants. He’s almost done with high school when he gets paired up with Phil Lester. A punk who is going nowhere in life. It takes one week for Phil to flip Dans life upside down.

One Yaps, One Disassociates (ao3) - philsmeatylegss

Summary: One yaps, one disassociates meme except it’s rpf

opinionated exotic birds (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: Dan and Phil's crew have a group chat. When you work for two of the weirdest little guys on the internet, you need to blow off steam once in a while.

[orange heart emoji] (ao3) - natigail

Summary: WE'RE ALL DOOMED finds its home on YouTube and Dan breaks the whole phandom with one single emoji. It's okay. If Phil can be earnest, then so can Dan.

Origins of the Phass Inflation Post (Dan and Phil in Greece) (ao3) - EverythingIsAsItWas

Summary: Dan and Phil rarely take vacations just for themselves, vacations in which they make no content, do not work, and simply enjoy each other's company. Going to Greece feels like the perfect opportunity for this, but Phil also thinks it's the perfect opportunity for a video... and Dan likes being a little shit.

Orpheus, Forgiven (ao3) - Celeste (artificialmac)

Summary: Sisyphus stops pushing the boulder. Orpheus doesn’t turn. Icarus doesn’t brush his fingertips against the surface of the sun. There is no story.

Or: Phil is Orpheus.

our lips must always be sealed (ao3) - uhmyeah

Summary: dan and phil have silly tour sex

our love keeps the things it finds (ao3) - dbg_708

Summary: The minutes they spent at the top of Manchester, when he first saw Dan in a train station, looking at him out of breath and sweaty in front of hundreds of people, giving him flowers when he was finally coming back home, and kissing him silly in their kitchen all reside in the same crook of his heart: unrelated to and away from his aches and pains.

Overwhelmed (ao3) - MorningStarshine

Summary: Dan gets overwhelmed during Interactive Introverts and relapses in the bathroom of their hotel. It's a good thing Phil Lester is there for him (with pizza and garlic bread for extra comfort).

[90shaladriel]

AI Manipulations of Rings of Power. (Longish)

Saw the AI edits of Haladriel scenes being altered by GenAI to make the characters* kiss. I have seen chatter about it and the negative implications of creating or interacting with AI generated content.

At the risk of being nuanced, (feel free to block or scroll past this) it interests me what exactly is the concern with it and why. To be clear, I do work in an industry that is both working to incorporate and profit off AIs while simultaneously my own job is increasingly at risk by the same products or we are forced to use them for productivity reasons.

Some reasons that make sense to me that you would not want AI content would be

1. Legal and copyright infringement of the ownership of the art or source material used to train the AI models. Stolen work, no credit or payment to artists

2. It’s generally shitty, sloppy, uncanny valley. Which aesthetically I think most people would be against

3. It directly competes against manual labor of a human, devalues work, replaces jobs, or floods the market so creators never can be separated, investment in a skill or art form isnt worth it.

4. It extremely energy intensive, the environmental implications can he huge with the climate crisis.

5. Its being shoveled in our faces by overhyped tech bros because they think its cool and can find gullible investors for, like NFTs and crypto curriencies

6. Deep fake abuse with AI, making up fake news, abusing a real person image in a degrading way without consent.

I think all of these are serious issues with AI.

The stuff that was shared about Sauron and Galadriel kissing does it materialize those concerns? I’m going to assume that it may for the first one, legal and copyright ownership of training data. Im not a lawyer, and there are also some AI models trained on legally owner content or public domain / open source content. I have no way of knowing what models were used by the GenAI that made those haladriel kisses, so we probably have to assume they may have questionable provenance, and I think by that alone we should boycott those.

Now what if someone used a more solidly vetted model or genAI service without those legal issues? What if the artists do get paid or some form of royalties?

The kiss videos themselves were ok, maybe halfway believable, there were obviously the weird uncanny ai artifacts and stuff. It’s objectively worse than if ROP had actually filmed a kiss with live actors in the show proper. But who am I to judge whether that slop is aesthetically pleasing to someone else or not? Sometimes I have found AI art that is truly bizarre in that this is too weird surrealness quality like looking into a dream while being awake. I’m not sure that this feeling is necessarily wrong to enjoy on its own.

Regarding the AI replacing jobs argument. I suppose it depends what we mean. They were never going to remake ROP Season 1 or 2. Morfydd and Charlie won’t be offered the same role if another company were to buy the rights and make Rings of Power reboot. We will never get those kisses on screen. Maybe you can say that if people were fed content for Haladriel you could give them that almost infinitely by GenAI and then those people would be less likely to consume or pay for some other newer media that might otherwise give a satisfactory ETL with backstory and build up equivalent to what ROP has done with Haladriel? I’m not sure how to weigh that, it might be true? I tend to think these AI kisses arent replacing any creative workers in the film/tv industry. I don’t think we say that fanfic reusing known characters competes with original written stories (or do people argue this?) although i suppose it does on some level. Do people boycott fanfiction?

Along these lines, what about the actors consent and deep fake aspects? Personally, I don’t see how the AI images are more offensive or harmful than fanart which uses the actors depictions to do all sorts of things, stabbing, killing, kissing, screwing and everything and everyone in between. Or fan edits which use clever editing and overlay soundtracks with pointed lyrics which completely change the artistic intent of the actors /creatives who made the original in a particular way, say make two characters have a romantic chemistry that wasn’t there in the original? Or even the old photoshop manipulation stuff? I thought we’re ok with this in the fandom world, is this that different?

I’m not saying I like AI or you need to. I probably wont interact with it and try to avoid it personally wherever I can. But I do wonder if the arguments people are making against ROP AI edits are actually in good faith? Because then i question why other kinds of fan creations are acceptable?

[fyonahmacnally]

Hands On Experience (Kara's First Job)

Based on a tumblr post - read here.

It’s been a long week for all of them, even longer since they’ve all had a chance to unwind and relax in general, much less as a group. Between their regular jobs, their vigilante shifts, and just life in general, months have passed since their last girl’s night. Fortunately, tonight is the remedy to that problem. 

They’re all sitting around Lena’s living room, snacks, wine, and other spirits spread across the coffee table in front of them. Kelly, Alex, Nia, Sam, Andrea, Lena, and Kara are regaling each other with stories of their youth and the trouble they managed to get into. Hearing some of the stories from Andrea about a teenage Lena has everyone laughing and somewhat surprised. The normally straight-laced and stoic CEO was quite rebellious in her teen years. Who knew? Kara sure as hell didn’t. 

As the night continues, the alcohol flows freely and the conversations ebb and flow into different topics. Kara thinks they’ve finally ventured away from the stories of their younger years and she breathes a sigh of relief. She never really did anything rebellious, she has always been more of a good girl, a rule follower. She couldn’t really get into trouble while trying to hide her identity. The two weren’t compatible.

But…not many people know about her first job. The one she got right after graduating college to pay for her first apartment in National City. It’s not something she tells many people. Especially since it came about by accident. She’s not ashamed of it, she’s just not sure how people will react to it. The times it has come out in conversations, reactions have been mixed. Plus, she sighs internally, if Alex is around, she always pushes her to tell The Story™ about the break-in. It isn’t something she likes to share.

Again, not because she is ashamed, it’s just that the way she got the job comes up and okay, that part is embarrassing. People usually laugh, tease her about it. And okay, she can see how it might be objectively funny, but she just…whatever. She’s a grown ass woman now. 

Still, she doesn’t want to tell The Story™ in front of Sam, Andrea, and Lena. She already gets teased by Alex about it and she knows Sam and Andrea won’t let her live it down. And Lena, Rao. They’ve been dating for a few months now and have had sex so they’ve discussed things. Kara knows Lena was a little surprised when she brought so much knowledge to those conversations, but she’s never asked about it.

In fact, of all the people currently sitting in this room, Alex is the only one who knows The Story™. Maybe Kelly because they talk about everything, but yeah. It’s not a story anyone else in the room knows and Kara wants to keep it that way. She’s managed it for years, maybe her luck will continue.

Just as she begins to relax, thinking she has managed to dodge the story and keep her secret for another day, she hears her name. When she shakes herself from her inner dialogue, six pairs of eyes are on her. 

“What?” Kara asks, looking from face to face before her eyes land on her sister. Her shoulders sink. She knows that look, that’s The Story™ look. Fuck. She is not going to be able to escape it, but she has to try. “Did I miss something?” 

Alex grins, a mischievous glint in her brown eyes. “We were just talking about our first full-time jobs. Andrea was under the impression that working for CatCo is the only full-time job you’ve ever had.” She tilts her head and smirks at her now nervous sister. “I corrected her, but that story is so much better when it comes from you. Care to share, Kara?” 

She sighs and drops her chin to her chest, this isn’t what she had in mind when she requested a Girl’s Night with her friends. Not even close. To be fair, she’s a little shocked Alex hasn’t somehow forced this story out before now. She is also definitely not drunk enough for this conversation either, so she makes a decision.

Kara bolts up from her seat, glass in hand. “If I am telling The Story™ I need more alcohol.” She sends pleading eyes to her girlfriend before turning to make a quick exit to the kitchen, Lena following close behind.

“Hey.” Lena’s soft voice, full of concern, breaks the silence. She walks around the island to stand next to her unusually quiet girlfriend. “Are you okay, Darling? If you want me to kick everyone out for the evening, I will. I can have Frank take everyone home.” She smoothes the now prominent crinkle between the blonde’s eyes, waiting for a response.

“No, it’s fine. This was bound to come up in conversation eventually. Honestly, I just hoped it wouldn’t be tonight.” She lets out a long sigh before burying her head into Lena’s neck, breathing in her comforting lavender scent.

Lena wraps her arms around her favorite person, placing a soft kiss to her temple before pulling her close. “You know, I always assumed CatCo was your first job too. We’ve never really talked about it.” She feels Kara pull away with a slight grimace on her face. Their eyes meet and Lena raises a brow at the Kryptonian.

Kara shrugs. “It’s what most people assume. I just don’t correct them.” She chuckles as she pulls the Aldebaran rum from the cabinet and pours a very full glass. Taking a big gulp, she winces at the slow burn moving down her throat. “I suppose I should get this over with, huh? Let everyone get their laughter and teasing quota in for the evening.”

Green eyes watch her curiously, taking in this peculiar behavior from the blonde. She’s seen Kara wary of things, but she’s not sure she’s ever seen her like this. It isn’t apprehension, it seems to be more like resignation, but she’s not sure what to make of it. 

“Kara, you don’t have to tell anyone anything. If this makes you uncomfortable, we can put a stop to it. Just say the word.” Lena says, a fiery determination on her face. 

A warm bubble of affection bursts in Kara’s chest before genuine laughter escapes her mouth. She smiles and kisses the dark-haired woman right on the enticing pout in front of her. “No, no. It’s fine. It’s an objectively funny story, just a little embarrassing. Besides, I’m also curious as to how you will react.” She waggles her brows and places one more soft kiss to Lena’s lips before dragging them both back to the rest of their friends.

The blonde takes a deep breath and reclaims her seat on the couch, Lena’s warm presence next to her and the warmth of the alien liquor in her system finally giving her the courage to expose her current biggest secret.

“My first job was at a sex shop called Cherry Poppins Toys & Trinkets.” She pauses for what she knows will be gasps of disbelief, glancing around the room at the faces of some of her closest friends. True to her assumptions, most of the eyes staring back at her are wide and disbelieving. The only exceptions are Alex, Kelly, and surprisingly, Nia.

Nia tilts her head to the side and takes a sip of her drink before she leans forward, a knowing smile on her face. “Well, there are several things that make a lot more sense now.” The brunette giggles. “When I came to you about that article I wrote a couple of years ago about spicing up things in the bedroom, you knew way more than I expected you to. Now I know why!”

Kara sighs in exasperation. “I’m not nearly as innocent as everyone seems to think I am!” She scoffs, cutting her eyes at her sister in anticipation of what’s coming.

Alex lets out a really loud guffaw, her laughter jostling Kelly and making the rest of the group snap their eyes toward the redhead. “Oh Kara…my dear sweet sister. We all know you aren’t so innocent now, especially since dating Lena, I’m sure.” She smirks at the raven haired woman next to her, chuckling at the middle finger flipped in her direction. “But, please enlighten our friends on how you got that job.” She sips her scotch before leaning back into the cushion, snuggling into her wife’s side.

If looks could kill, Alex would be dead. She’s sure of it. The look she’s getting from Kara is filled with malice and daggers. She just smiles and winks at the blonde. Her mind is at peace, watching Lena absorb this story is worth every bit of ire from her sister. So, she relaxes and waits. Her part of the story will be here soon enough. 

After looking around the room at her friends one more time and get a reassuring squeeze from her girlfriend, Kara begins her tale:

“I was looking online for jobs. I had just graduated from NCU and gotten my first apartment. At that point, I was applying for almost anything because I just needed something to pay rent. I came across this ad for retail sales at Cherry Poppins Toys & Trinkets and thought, why not? How hard can it be to sell toys and trinkets?”

She pauses her story to take a drink of liquid courage, noticing the half smirk on her girlfriend’s face. Shaking her head, she continues:

“A few days later, I got a call from the manager of the store to come in for an interview. The instructions were to go to the back door of the building so I didn’t know what kind of things were being sold until later. I genuinely thought it was toys and trinkets…you know, like a Schwartz toy store.”

The uproarious laughter at that statement yanked her out of her story and she covered her face with a grumble. Lifting her face, she glares at her sister before turning to the rest of the group. “Look, if you guys want the rest of the story, you’re going to have to stop interrupting me. This is serious!” She harumphs and crosses her arms, making the group laugh even harder.  She rolls her eyes and sits silently, waiting.

“Okay, okay. Settle down, let her finish.” Sam chimes in, wiping the tears of laughter from her face before settling back in next to Andrea. The couple share a soft smile before returning their attention to Kara.

“Are you sure you’re done?” She flicks her eyes between everyone before dropping them back onto her hands actively twisting in her lap. “Anyway, I went in for the interview…”

“I opened the back door and stepped inside to what seemed to be a storeroom. It looked pretty normal. Boxes, shelves, labels, nothing to indicate anything outside of the toy store I imagined. The manager, John, came out to greet me and took me into his office for the interview. 

Now, what happens next was a little odd to me at the time and looking back it was obvious, but I was 21 and still not used to Earth’s customs so I just rolled with it. John brought out this…apparatus that was a very lifelike replica of a bare bottom.”

Kara growls as another round of belly laughs interrupts her telling of The Story™. This time she doesn’t say anything. She sits, silently waiting for the laughter to subside. Once it is quiet again, she makes eye contact with each of them trying to convey her frustration.

“Alright. Let’s get ourselves together and listen.” Lena clears her throat, quickly wiping away her own tears of laughter before she continues. “Go ahead, Darling. Finish your story, we’ll do our best not to interrupt you again.” Green eyes glare at the rest of the group before gently squeezing Kara’s leg in encouragement.

She sighs, throws her head back and stares at the ceiling before finally continuing, hopefully finishing this time.

“John had me…spank the bare bottom several times. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for at first, but later he told me that I kept my composure better than anyone else before me. I realize now it was because people probably laugh their asses off. For me it was pretty confusing because I assumed it was for some lifelike doll…which, looking back, I suppose it was.”

She laughs at her younger self. In hindsight, this story is pretty damn funny. If it were one of her friends, she’d probably be laughing hysterically as well. This line of thought seems to release something inside her and she smiles. The rest of the story should be easy.

“At this point, I still didn’t realize that it was a sex shop. I hadn’t seen the store and nothing about the storeroom indicated otherwise. Granted, I should have realized that spanking a prosthetic ass was a dead giveaway, but I’m an alien for Rao’s sake. I’d never seen anything like that in my entire life!

So, you can imagine, on my first day when I walked into the store, I was shocked. It was wall-to-wall dicks, vibrators, and all sorts of contraptions I didn’t know existed. Most of the day was spent with some shade of rosy embarrassment from head to toe. As much as I wanted to turn tail and run right out of there, I needed the job so I stuck it out. I learned a lot about sex and people in those two years I worked there.”

She grins at her friends, pausing briefly to wink at Lena. “Now, the really crazy part of my time working there happens about six months before I started working at CatCo…” Kara briefly glances at Alex before continuing her story.

“It was a Friday morning. We didn’t typically open until noon because the weekends were our busiest days with the latest hours. By this time, I was the assistant manager at the store so it wasn’t uncommon for me to open the store or close up at night. John and I had become friends at this point too so work was actually a lot of fun. Anyway, he had to drive up to our distribution center to sort out a shipment that had gotten delayed and left me in charge. 

Since we opened at noon, I would usually get there around 10:45 to get things ready. However, on this particular day, one of our alarms was triggered. I got a call from the security company that an internal motion sensor was activated. It was shocking because we had very good security and had never had an issue. After telling them to call the police, I headed to the store.

Now, in order to understand the story, I need to tell you the layout of the store. Upstairs was where most of the really risque, more fetish and BDSM stuff was kept. No one was allowed up there without a member of the staff accompanying them. The bottom floor was where most customers stayed.

The layout of the first floor consisted of five zones. Imagine it from left to right. Zone 1 was all the porn DVD’s. Zone 2 was all of our lower end sex toys, all the more tame offerings in the lower price ranges. Zone 3 was the higher end sex toys and more…advanced offerings. It was where the realistic asses were kept.”

She smiles and looks around at her friends, once again winking at her girlfriend. They are all grinning and seem to be amused by her story. Taking a sip of her rum, she sits her glass down, presses a soft kiss to Lena’s cheek and keeps going.

“Zone 4 was the checkout where we spent most of our shift. And finally, Zone 5 was all the wearables - we called it the ‘lingerie, leather, and lace’ section. Each section had a camera directly focused on it as well as various other cameras throughout the store. There were motion sensors that were active when the store was armed and alarms on all the doors. Another bonus is that we weren’t far from one of the local police precincts.

To say that John and I were shocked about the break-in is an understatement. In the 18 months I had been there, we hadn’t had any issues and John said he’d never had any in the 3 years he’d been there before me. This thief was very savvy. They broke one of the windows on the lower level close to the lower end toys in Zone 2. For some reason, the alarms were only set to go off if the upper windows were breached and not these. 

When the thief got in, they pretty much had the run of the store as long as they stayed clear of the motion sensors. Based on what I saw when I got there to meet the cops, the thief was initially after the DVD’s. Unfortunately for them, we keep the discs in a locked cabinet behind the checkout so the cases on the display are all empty.”

Kara chuckles and glances over at Alex, both of them have an amused twinkle in their eyes. She smiles at her sister and proceeds.

“The crook was clever, they were wearing a full bodysuit to cover their face and all their skin so their identity was well masked. When we watched the security footage back, it was evident that when the thief couldn’t get the DVD’s they decided to randomly grab whatever they could. However, instead of going for the high end toys and wearables, the sports car equivalent of goods for sexual pleasure, they stuffed as many of the cheapest, flimsiest dildos, foulest bottles of lube, and random edible things into their backpack. They did all that without triggering any alarms too. It wasn’t until they were climbing out of the broken window that they nicked one of the motion sensors on some of the more expensive products and kicked off the alarms. 

Once that alarm was triggered, I got the phone call and dispatched the police. By the time I got to the store, the woman my sister was dating at the time, who was a detective at the precinct up the street, was there waiting for me. Maggie and I were working through what was taken and documenting all the goods stolen. I still laugh about how many times Maggie had to write the words dildo, edible underwear, and lube in that report. 

What I didn’t know at the time was Maggie texted Alex to let her know the store had been broken into and Alex was making her way there to check on me. Maggie and I had been there for about 30 minutes before we heard a commotion outside the door.” 

She grins widely and nods her head at Alex, giving her permission to take over the telling of the story.

“I love telling this part of the story.” Alex beams, placing her empty tumbler on the table in front of her and leaning forward on the couch. The redhead claps her hands together as she dives into her part of the story. 

“I parked at a restaurant a block or so away. We went there a lot so I knew the owner and I figured we could grab some lunch once everything was squared away. As I was walking toward the scene, I saw this guy running toward me like a madman. There are things flying out of his backpack and he seems like he’s running from something. I pause for a minute and step to the side, not wanting to get taken out by the guy. 

That’s when I realized he was leaving a trail of dildos, lube, and edible underwear in his wake. It was like a tsunami of cheap sex aids covering the sidewalk around us. I had already grabbed my badge so I just called out for him to stop and flashed it up at him. Within seconds, the guy was on his knees in front of me, his palms up and sobbing out ‘It was MeEeEnnE!!! I stole the diLDoS!!!’”

The entire room erupts into laughter. There isn’t a dry eye in the entire place. It’s how this story always ends…lots of laughter and disbelief. When it all eventually dies down, Kara notices that Lena has gotten very quiet and she has a contemplative look on her face. Her plump bottom lip is trapped between her pristine white teeth and there is a faraway look in her malachite eyes.

Nia is the first to speak, pulling them all out of their brief silence. “Okay, I can’t believe you didn’t tell us that you worked at a sex shop before, Kara. This is pertinent information that you’ve been holding back!” She scoffs at her friend. “Also, that was the dumbest thief I’ve ever heard of. He took all the cheapest shit you had instead of the good shit. And…there’s a 24 hour coffee shop right next door to Cherry Poppins! He could have stayed there until the coast was clear and made off with his stash. What. An. Idiot.”

“Seriously! That’s where Drea and I usually go after our Poppins shopping trips.” Sam chimes in, shaking her head in disbelief before catching what she just revealed. She quickly clears her throat and changes the subject. “You’ve been holding out, Kara. You could have given us recommendations! You probably know more about this stuff than Lena does.” She smirks at her friend before looking at Andrea with a wink.

Andrea grins. “Yeah, Lena has been our go-to all this time and you’re the actual hidden expert sitting right in front of us.” The brunette looks over to her childhood friend and laughs. She nudges Sam and whispers, “She’s having some thoughts right now, connecting some things.”

They both giggle and watch as Lena’s hand drifts up to her still captured bottom lip, brushing lightly back and forth against the soft skin. Her green eyes are still glassy and staring past the room currently occupied. Right as they are about to say something, Lena speaks.

“So, this whole time, you’ve been holding out on me?!” Lena’s voice comes out far more breathy and deeper than she wanted. Her eyes suddenly focus intently on Kara’s. “Wait! This makes so much more sense now. This is why you know so much about the…”

“NO!!!” Alex screeches. “Do. Not. Finish. That. Sentence. Lena. Luthor.” She points a menacing finger in the direction of her friend, her sister’s girlfriend. 

The rest of the room laughs, but all of them notice the look of wanton desire on the CEO’s face, the way she is not so subtly devouring Kara with her eyes. It slowly becomes evident that they need to get out of this apartment before they see something they can’t ever forget. 

Lena slowly moves her gaze from Kara over to Alex before a devilish smirk plays across her lips. “Then I suggest you say your goodbyes, Agent Danvers.” She languidly licks her lips and lets her eyes track down Kara’s body again before looking back at the rest of their friends. “All of you should probably call it a night. I have some things to talk to my girlfriend about and we don’t need an audience.”

She pauses for a moment, quirks her brow, and looks directly into cerulean eyes with a smirk. “Unless you’re into that? Seems there’s quite a few things I don’t know about you…yet.”

“Yep, Yes! Okay.” Alex says, bolting up from the couch. “I think it’s definitely time to go.” She grabs Kelly’s hand to pull her off the couch and is quickly followed by Nia. The three of them grab their belongings and dash toward the door.

“Just leave everything, we will clean up tomorrow. Frank is waiting downstairs to see you home.” Lena smiles, her eyes drifting over to the remaining two people occupying the adjacent oversized chair. “That’s your queue to make your way down to the guest apartment. Don’t worry, the penthouse is sound proof so you won’t hear anything.” 

Andrea and Sam both laugh. Having known Lena the longest, they are familiar with her antics. They both roll their eyes as they stand and gather their things to head to the floor below and the apartment they are staying in while visiting National City. 

“I would say have fun tonight, but I don’t think that’ll be an issue.” Sam winks, pulling her girlfriend toward the door. “We’ll see you guys for brunch tomorrow.”

As the door closes behind them, Lena turns and straddles Kara’s lap. As her lips hover just above the blonde’s, she rubs her nose against her girlfriends and takes a deep breath. “I think we have some things to discuss, Miss Danvers.” Kara grins and lifts them from the couch, drifting toward the bedroom. “You’ve certainly been holding out on me and surely you have things to show me.”

And that’s how Lena found out Kara once worked at Cherry Poppins Toys & Trinkets.