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staenless · 9 months ago

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Steddie lunchbox fic I joked about but then people liked it so now I'm. I'm write it now.

"Hey, Munson!"

Eddie ducked his head down before the blow could hit. Tommy Hagan was one of those men who never outgrew his highschool jock phase, and seemed intent on dragging the rest of the world into his football role playing; not so gentle head smacking included.

He blow never came, instead the heavy metal thunk of a lunchbox landed on his desk. He chanced an eye open, and took in the neat black tin box, no two boxed which stacked perfectly and were secured in place with a patterned cloth. He opened the other eye and instead looked to Tommy, waiting for some sort of explanation.

"the missus packed it up for me," the younger man explained, his eyes off to the side where some co-workers were gathering to make lunch plans, "real pain if I'm honest, how about you take it off my hands for me?" Then he grinned down at Eddie and clapped his should, too hard, like they were regular old office pals.

It wasn't like they were office enemies, per se, but Eddie had a distaste of Tommy and while the feeling certainly seemed mutual they were srupid enough to let petty distaste interfere with their pay checks. Eddie would certainly never do Tommy any sort of favour if it wasn't by obligation to his working contract, and Tommy had certainly phrased this as if it was a favor so... So Eddie instinct screamed to rebuff him.

Except it was lunch time, and Eddie was hungry, and he hadn't packed his own lunch because his fridge had probably three things in it max and he couldn't afford to go out to eat since most of his paycheck had already been dolled out to rent, his uncle, his savings, and he only had money for absolute necessities. Even as he sat in indecision he could feel his stomach writhing and slithering in on itself. Shit, had he forgotten breakfast to?

"Sure," he responded, and then quickly tacked on,"man." There was a moment of silence that made Eddie feel like he ought to crack a joke, but Tommy seemed to decide for them both that was a bit chummy, even for his sports team larping. Instead he landed a solid whack, right where the last one had landed, then spun around and jogged to catch up with the other Alphas on their way out to lunch.

The office had emptied out in the span of their conversation and now cubicles sat still with their roller chains sprawled haphazardly as if evacuated in some emergency instead of a quick shuffle in hopes of skipping the worst of the lunchtime queues. Eddie decided to forgo the company cafeteria and instead snatched a pack of cigs out his backpack and scooped up the packed lunch. He could eat on the roof, since the fire doors alarm hadn't worked since he was hired and nobody bothered going up there in the heat of the day.

It wasn't that Eddie was exceptionally antisocial at work, or loathed ALL his coworkers. He actually had a few friends, Jeff and Gareth in the IT department would tolerate him during lunch breaks, and they'd even met up a few times outside of work. They were cool, he liked spending time with them, might even call them friends in a month or two. But spending all morning on the top floors, in marketing and branding and surrounded by other Alphas, Eddie probably wasn't much fun to be around at the moment.

The corporate world and Alphas went together like honey and ants. The opportunities to compete and peacock were nigh endless, not to mention doing well wouldn't net you a hefty income for some extra peacocking on the side. Eddie wasn't like that, his Alpha didn't operate that way. So much so even he had been surprised when his second puberty hit and he dropped fang and knot. The kids at school had snickered and called him a half-bit Alpha, while others said he only presented that way because his sole guardian was a lone omega. It had hurt at the time, but looking back Eddie couldn't help but laugh. Maybe he was a half-bit, maybe he presented wrong because of some base instinct to protect his uncle. He certainly didn't prance around like the other alphas did, bickering and shoving like little kids fighting over a toy.

But maybe that was the joke Tommy was playing on him, Eddie thought as he popped the lunchbox and saw the note sat neatly to the side. Maybe Eddie was too much of a bitch-Alpha to get a mate, while Tommy with all his flouncing and team player make belive had someone waiting at home, making him lunches and writing sweet love notes signed with a kiss. Maybe the joke was to give Eddie a taste of something he could never have.

Goodluck with work today, please bring home some avacados for guac. Love you - Steve.

Eddie stared at the note in his trembling hand. He could smell the omega- Steve - from where his lips had pressed to the paper. Unmated. Surprising, but not unusual. Plenty of couples got married first, then sealed the bite later on. Some Yuppie thing that Eddie was far too romantic to entertain. If you loved someone, wouldn't you want that commitment forever? But the again, Tommy and his sneer around the word "missus" gave Eddie the impression he wasnt the "forever" sort. Further more, a male Omega? Most people were somewhat hesitant to be associated with one, if not outright hostile to their very existence. Far too rare to be ordinary, and far too Omega to be respected male Omegas were almost never on an up and coming Alphas radar of potential mates.

Eddie slipped the note into his pants pocket, and lit his cigarette before turning back to the lunch box. Black oval tins, two stacked and tied with a floral cloth. A bento, he realised, he'd seen it on the cover of house and home in the checkout line. The hot new craze in lunchboxes. Tha made him snicker a little. The floral cloth seemed odd, and stuck out against the black metal. The material was smooth and soft, like brand new. Huh. The tins themselves had some scuff marks, and one had a dent on its edge that spoke of a life of use. He set them down, side by side, on the laid out cloth. It looked fancy, but also surprisingly homey and inviting. It looked delicious.

The Omega- Steve had outdone himself. The top tin contained two halves of a prego roll stuffed to bursting with marinated shredded chicken. The meat was cradled between lettuce leaves to keep the bread from going soggy, and Eddie could catch sight of some glistening tomatoe slices in there. The second tone had an orange, peeled with each slice individual cleaned of any white hairy bits and laid on a bed of some gummy fruit candy. Apple sliced were laid in a separate tin, still shinning with lemon juice and not a spot of brown to be seen. Slid neatly into the side, half hidden, has the familiar pink white of coconut ice for desert.

Eddie could feel his mouth watering. Holy shit, did Tommy eat like this everyday? And if he did what was wrong with him that he'd give it up for some second rate slop at a restaurant? Breathing deeply he could smell the food, but beneath that something else, something tempting. Steve, his hands delicately pulling the chicken from the bone, slicing the tomatoe, cradling the bread as he buttered it, his nails catching and pulling off every white part from the orange slices. His hard work, his effort, laid before Eddie like some sort of worshipful offing. He felt high when he bit down on the orange slice, the caress of it's soft inner skin along his gums, like a kiss. The burst of flavour on his tongue, sweetness invading his sense so all he could see was orange orange orange leaving the bitter taste of citrus. He could taste, most importantly, beneath it all. God he could taste Steve. He could taste his love.

"Oh, thanks man," Tommy didn't look up from his computer as he said it, just kept tying away. "No problem man," Eddie mumbled back, eyes fixed on the lunchbox and he's straightened it on the other alphas desk. Every crumb had been kicked up, every smear of sauce sucked away. But placed gently, reverently, back in the top box was the love note. Eddie wanted to give Steve something in return, to thank him for sharing something so magical, so special with him. In the end he'd decided against it, could work up the courage to indirectly challenge Tommy like that. Instead, he'd pressed his lips tightly to where Steve's had once been, before returning it to its rightful owner.

The words Love You sat nestled in the tin as Eddie walked away.

Part 2 exists now

#steddie #Idk is this something?#I should speak to my therapist about this but people wanted the fic instead and I am but a slave to commands #It's omegaverse cause I like giving Steve a pussy #Not proofread #I wrote it you read or no extra steps babbiiieeee

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thegermanwriter · 4 months ago

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Task Force 141 Cashier AU Headcanons

Soap and Gaz are like the sunshines of the entire store. When those two first joined, everyone was surprised by how much better the atmosphere became. Everyone’s mood lifts by about 80% when those two are on shift together. Everyone warmed up to them immediately, and Ghost gets along with Soap the best. You can just take their interactions from the game and plant them into this AU: all the banter, jokes, and light flirting. Ghost isn't as closed off as he was before, and Price and Laswell are in the back patting themselves on the shoulders for a job well done recruiting these two.

Soap's all chatty, smiling at the customers, greeting everyone with a big smile, and joking around with them. The customers love him the most, and he probably has like four reviews praising him highly on Yelp or some shit like that. The newbies love him too.

Gaz isn't as energetic as Soap, but he’s also friendly and always ready to help. Both he and Soap make the best work buddies, and Gaz is secretly Price's favorite.

I imagine Soap and Gaz are always competing against each other for fun: who cleans the store the fastest, who scans items faster, who makes more money by the end of the shift, who restocks the shelves the quickest. There's a clipboard in the break room where the rookies keep a list of their ongoing competition.

Their charisma and good mood is also one of the main reasons why they mainly work at the registers and not in the back. That's where Ghost works most of the time, always filling up shelves or planning the next day ahead with Price in the office. It’s just better for everyone that way.

Ghost probably has a resting bitch face and looks annoyed and ready to run someone over with the pallet truck 24/7, but he’s actually really helpful if you ask him something. He’s the type to walk customers to the items instead of just pointing in the general direction. Nice elderly people love him, and kids and young adults immediately jump onto the shelves to make room for him when he needs to get by. Ghost is probably that silent coworker you’re never sure if he hates you or tolerates you, but I’m sure he gives the best advice to the rookies next to Price.

When dealing with difficult customers, Price is the best at handling them—always level-headed and cool, never losing his composure. Not even Laswell is this patient, and the woman has probably been in the industry the longest.

Now, Soap and Gaz? They don't take disrespect. They try their best to stay friendly, but they know "The customer is always right" is not the full quote, and they make sure the assholes know it too if they go too far. Price has to intervene every single time before shit really hits the fan. I haven't seen much of Gaz, but based on the bit of gameplay I saw, Soap is probably the worse of the two. Gaz would probably get all sassy and sarcastic, and Soap would just speak his mind, damn the consequences.

Ghost, on the other hand, never lashes out at anyone. It doesn't matter how difficult they are—he’s the type to just stare them down quietly and wait for backup so he can retreat in peace and let someone else handle the mess, mostly Price or Laswell. But that doesn't mean he isn't pissed. He gets broodier than usual, and to cool off, he just waits for Soap to have his break so they can talk shit and gossip together.

Shepherd is probably that asshole manager who visits from time to time and always finds something to complain about. Graves is that one exchange coworker from another store who sometimes gets sent over when the personnel won’t be enough for the shift. At the beginning, everyone liked him, especially Soap, who got along with him like they were long-lost brothers, but Graves said some bullshit one day or did something disrespectful, and now everyone hates him—Soap especially. My guy doesn’t forgive nor forget, same as Ghost. Everyone else just tries to ignore Graves to the best of their ability.

When the shift ends, they always stay behind and talk a bit about work or life. It’s the most wholesome shit. Soap's probably the guy to come to work on a bike, but I think after everyone got comfortable with each other, Soap either lets himself be driven home by Gaz (Soap has some serious gas money debt) or by Ghost.

#soap cod #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #cod headcanons #cod meme #cod modern warfare #cod price #cod gaz #cod laswell #cod graves #tw swearing #cod au #ghostsoap

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atommadly · 8 days ago

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𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃, 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | EoWells x Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | none.

𝘌𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘍𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘢𝘭, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘌𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘴 𝘌𝘷𝘦.

Masterlist

It was Christmas Eve, and STAR Labs was quiet—too quiet for Eobard Thawne’s liking. He sat in his dimly lit office, the only light emanating from the glow of his computer monitors, which cast long, sharp shadows across the room. The hum of machinery surrounded him like a low, endless drone, blending with the faint buzz of fluorescent lights from the hallway.

Eobard tapped his fingers rhythmically against the smooth metal of his desk, the sound barely audible over the hum of the monitors. Lines of code scrolled across the screen, each one a step closer to ensuring the success of his particle accelerator. He had fine-tuned the algorithms countless times, but perfection was a demand he couldn’t compromise. His plans, years in the making, were nearing their climax. Soon, he would create the Flash, the one force powerful enough to breach the barriers of time and propel him back to where he truly belonged.

This place, this timeline—it was a prison. Everything here was a means to an end.

He glanced toward the hallway, where faint laughter echoed, accompanied by the warm glow of Christmas lights strung haphazardly along the walls. He could see their colors bleeding into the sterile white of the lab, reds and greens trying to soften the cold, unyielding environment. Someone had placed a small, fake tree in the corner near the coffee station, its fiber-optic branches flickering like a weak imitation of holiday spirit.

It was all nauseating.

His coworkers—blissfully unaware of the grand design that surrounded them—had indulged in this seasonal frivolity with childlike glee. He tolerated it because he had to; keeping up the pretense of Harrison Wells required a veneer of participation in their mundane traditions. But inwardly, he despised it. The people here, though competent in their respective fields, were dull and unremarkable. Pawns, every one of them.

Except for you.

Eobard leaned back in his chair, the worn leather creaking softly under his weight. His fingers steepled in front of him, resting lightly against his lips as he allowed himself a rare indulgence: to think about you.

You were an anomaly, one he hadn’t accounted for when he’d assumed the guise of Harrison Wells. When he first noticed you, he’d thought you were like the others—eager to prove yourself, ambitious, and easily manipulated. But you had surprised him. From the start, you were different. There was something in your gaze—a quiet curiosity and a love for discovery that was entirely untainted by the arrogance or self-interest he so often encountered.

It wasn’t just your mind, sharp as it was, that set you apart. It was the way you approached your work, the way your enthusiasm radiated with a warmth that was impossible to ignore. Even your setbacks didn’t deter you; they only seemed to fuel your determination to learn, to grow.

At first, he’d dismissed you as an insignificant distraction, a minor variable in the grand equation of his plans. But as the weeks turned into months, he found himself paying closer attention. You had a way of slipping past his defenses without even realizing it, your small gestures of kindness an affront to the walls he had so carefully constructed.

He remembered the first time you’d stepped into his office uninvited. The audacity of it had caught him off guard. You’d brought him a cup of coffee, casually setting it on his desk like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’ve been in here for hours,” you’d said, your voice light, yet tinged with concern. “Figured you could use a break.”

He hadn’t known how to respond, so he’d simply nodded, his expression carefully neutral. You’d smiled at him then—soft and genuine—and he hated how it lingered in his thoughts long after you’d left.

It kept happening.

You brought small tokens of goodwill—a pastry you’d picked up on your way to work, a book you thought he might enjoy, or even just a warm smile when he passed you in the hall. Each time, he tried to dismiss it as meaningless, yet each time, he found himself thinking about it far longer than he should have.

He hated that you made him feel anything at all.

Eobard’s gaze shifted back to the monitors, though the scrolling code no longer held his attention. Instead, his thoughts drifted to your laughter, the way it carried through the halls like a soft melody, a sound so foreign in his calculated world. He hated how it lingered, how it warmed a place in him that had no business being warm.

You were a complication he hadn’t anticipated.

He clenched his jaw, trying to refocus his thoughts. Emotions were a weakness he couldn’t afford, not now. You were just another pawn, he reminded himself—a more intriguing one, perhaps, but a pawn nonetheless. And yet, no matter how often he told himself that, the lie grew harder to believe.

Eobard leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he buried his face in his hands. You were the one variable in his perfectly calculated plan that he couldn’t control. And that terrified him.

A soft knock on his door pulled him from his spiraling thoughts. Speak of the devil.

“Dr. Wells?” Your voice was tentative, almost hesitant, but it carried that familiar warmth that seemed to follow you everywhere.

“Yes?” he replied, his tone cold, though not as sharp as it usually was when addressing others. Something about you always softened the edges of his words, no matter how much he fought against it.

The door creaked open, and you stepped inside, the sight of you momentarily stealing his breath. You were dressed in a festive red sweater dress, the knit clinging comfortably to your figure, and atop your head sat a Santa hat tilted just slightly to the side. In your hands, you carried a steaming mug in one hand and a brightly wrapped package in the other.

Anyone else in such a ridiculous outfit would have drawn his immediate disdain. But with you, it was different. The sight of you made his heart stumble in a way that was both foreign and unsettling.

“I figured you’d still be working,” you said with a hint of teasing in your voice, stepping further into the room. The soft glow from his monitors caught the sparkle of tinsel woven into your hair—an unnecessary addition that somehow made you even more endearing.

Eobard arched an eyebrow as you approached his desk, setting the mug down beside his keyboard. The sweet aroma of chocolate and marshmallows drifted up, filling the air between you.

“I brought you some hot chocolate,” you continued, your lips curving into that soft smile he’d come to expect from you. “It’s not exactly gourmet, but it’s better than nothing.”

His gaze flicked to the mug and lingered there for a moment before returning to your face. “You didn’t have to,” he said simply, his voice tinged with a faint edge of skepticism.

“I know,” you replied with a shrug, your smile unwavering as you placed the small gift beside the mug. “But it’s Christmas. You shouldn’t be alone.”

He nearly laughed at the irony of your words, though he caught himself before the sound escaped. Alone. That was his natural state, wasn’t it? Even in the midst of his most grandiose plans, surrounded by people who saw him as a genius and a leader, he was always, fundamentally, alone.

If only you knew the truth—the man you thought was Harrison Wells was nothing more than a mask, a fugitive hiding behind a stolen face and identity. He wasn’t just alone by circumstance; he was alone by necessity, by design.

You didn’t know, of course, and somehow, that made your gesture worse. The sincerity in your actions, the thoughtfulness that shone in your every word—it was a kindness he didn’t deserve.

He watched you closely, his sharp gaze dissecting every move you made. You loved this holiday, he knew. You had been the driving force behind the decorations that now adorned the sterile halls of STAR Labs.

He’d seen you weeks ago, methodically hanging garlands and arranging ornaments with the same quiet determination you brought to your work. Day after day, you added more—tiny lights around the lab monitors, a wreath on the entrance door, and even a laughably small Christmas tree perched precariously on the coffee table in the breakroom.

You wanted to bring joy to everyone. He’d seen how you rallied your coworkers, coaxing laughter and light-heartedness from even the most stressed among them as the launch of the particle accelerator loomed closer. He couldn’t understand why you bothered. This place, these people—they didn’t deserve your relentless optimism.

“You should be with the others,” he said abruptly, his voice harsher than he intended. He immediately regretted the tone, but masking his irritation with your presence—and his growing attachment to it—was becoming more difficult by the day.

You tilted your head, studying him with an unrelenting gaze that always seemed to dig deeper than he wanted. How did you manage to strip away his carefully constructed defenses with a simple look? He hated it.

“I’m not leaving until you open this,” you said, holding up the small, brightly wrapped gift in your hand. The determination in your voice was gentle but firm, as if you were challenging him in the kindest way possible.

Eobard stared at the package, his sharp mind calculating. This exchange was unnecessary. It served no strategic purpose, no functional value to his work or his ultimate goal. It was a distraction. And yet, despite his better judgment, his hand reached out. His fingers brushed against the textured wrapping paper, and for a moment, he froze.

“It’s nothing big,” you said quickly, as if trying to downplay the significance of your gesture. There was a faint flush in your cheeks now, perhaps from the warmth of the room—or maybe from standing so close to him. “I just thought it might brighten your day.”

Brighten his day. The absurdity of it almost made him laugh. But instead, he unwrapped the gift slowly, the deliberate movements betraying his reluctance to acknowledge the gesture. The paper fell away to reveal an old, leather-bound book.

A Christmas Carol.

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the choice. His fingers traced the worn edges of the cover, feeling the history in its binding.

“I remembered you mentioned liking Dickens once,” you explained, your voice softer now, almost nervous. “I thought it might be nice to have something to read that isn’t… scientific journals.”

The book was far too thoughtful, far too personal for him to deserve. It wasn’t flashy or extravagant, but it showed you’d been paying attention, that you’d remembered something about him he himself had long forgotten.

“Thank you,” he said, the words quieter than he intended. The sincerity in his voice surprised even him.

Your face lit up with a smile, one so genuine it seemed to momentarily warm the cold, sterile room. His chest tightened uncomfortably. What was this feeling? Regret, perhaps? Regret that he couldn’t let himself be the man you believed him to be. Regret that the facade he wore would eventually crumble, leaving nothing but pain in its wake.

“Maybe you could leave the code lines aside for an hour or two and join us at the party,” you suggested, your voice light, almost teasing. “I might even have reserved you a dance.”

He blinked, startled by the suggestion. You couldn’t possibly think he’d agree to such frivolity. Harrison Wells—the man you thought he was—might have been reclusive, but even he wasn’t known for embracing the holidays.

You must have known his answer already because you didn’t linger, giving him a soft, knowing smile. As you reached the door, you paused, glancing over your shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Dr. Wells.”

The door clicked shut behind you, leaving him alone once more.

Eobard sat motionless for a long moment, the book still cradled in his hands. He turned it over, studying every detail—the frayed corners, the faint scent of old paper, the faded gold lettering on the spine. It was a relic of a simpler, more innocent time, so unlike the cold precision of his world now.

He set the book down carefully on his desk, but his gaze lingered on the doorway where you had stood. The sound of your voice, the lightness of your laugh, and the ridiculous warmth of your holiday spirit had all managed to worm their way into his mind.

You were a complication he hadn’t anticipated. You weren’t just a distraction; you were an anomaly in the perfect equation of his plans. And as much as he tried to deny it, he couldn’t.

He had grown fond of you.

And that made you dangerous.

Because in a world where everything and everyone was a means to an end, you had become something more. Something he couldn’t afford to lose, yet couldn’t bring himself to let go of. And that, more than anything, terrified him.

#theflash #fem reader #harrison wells #reader insert #x reader #harrisonwells #female reader #one shot #oneshot #o eowells #eowells #eobard thawne

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thinkpink212 · 2 years ago

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The biggest lessons I have learned being in the work force...

These people are not your friends. Be kind and all, but do not share your life with these people. You can become friends, but I suggest you keep your work and personal life separate.

Do not do more then you're paid to do. Going above and beyond is only something I would suggest to do if that is your own company, if you are up for a promotion or if you do not care/mind being taken for granted. These people will see you work hard and load you with more.

Every year, ask for a raise. In most fields and countries you can and should ask for a raise (usually 10-15%) usually you won’t get your target, but close mouths don’t get fed. So have your ducks in a row, present your case and make sure to make your efforts match your paycheck, always!

Do not take on the role of boss, even when your boss has you feeling like one. Again, unless the check is matching up, stay in your lane and do not tell your coworkers what, when and how to do their job. That is for your boss to do and if they need help with that, they can add it to the contract, pay you for your time or hire an assistant.

Get in and get out. When you shift is over, leave. It is that simple, even if you love your job, having boundaries is not just for you to respect your time but for them to see you respect it - and they will in return respect it too. Those who do not will have a rude awakening when the clock strikes and you get up and start packing. I personally do not even have my notifications on when I am off of work. If they wish to contact me on my time, they can try but I rarely pick up or reply unless it is a request to take a shift due to being short staffed.

Not everybody is a shark, but you can pretend. As someone who is not a fan of getting into a very ‘masculine’ and heavy roll, I’ll do it to get the job done if that’s what’s called for — but I am a soft gentle cinnamon roll, but they don’t have to know that. You can adapt to your environment and do what you have to do before reverting back to who you are and want to be. Don’t stay in that masculine heavy energy for too long either, it’s not fun and very draining — especially for my delicate fellow cinnamon rolls 🩷

Document everything. What you do for the company (i.e anything extra that is not a part of your job directly or anything with large impacts) . E-mails of your requests of absence, vacation days etc. If you have a phone call with your boss/colleagues, e-mail them that same day and thank them for the phone call, and give a short resume of what you agreed to etc.

Do not react to weird threats. My own bosses in the past have alluded to wanting to hire more people because they are dissatisfied with the work-efforts etc. They can be dissatisfied as much as they would like and hire how many they want. They usually do not take this step due to the lack of competent workers, but stull do not slack so much you give them enough excuses to fire you. But still, do not start picking up the slack simply because their other employees/they cannot keep up with demands.

You always have options, so if you are not happy then leave. I think many forget that we got this job and we can get a new one again. For some it may take longer then for others, but there is no rewards for struggling so please get out if it starts affecting your mental, spiritual or physical health. But also know that most work environments mimic each other, so see where the benefits are best, and what is worth the occasional headaches. Not everybody will find a job they love the first few tries, so aim for what you like/can tolerate with enough benefits/good pay that you have the freedome to spend your free time doing what you love. Work to live, never live to work

Xoxo

#work advice #work environment #9 to 5 #hustle culture #thinkpink advice #thinkpink upload

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watermelonsloth · 1 year ago

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Shikamaru’s Sexism Could’ve Worked

I think everyone’s aware that all throughout part 1 Shikamaru was a raging misogynist, but a lot of people ignore it. It makes sense why; it’s an immediate character ruiner and the author couldn’t even be bothered to remember it when shippuden rolled around. On one hand, it’s funny to think that the implication of Shikamaru’s sexism dissipating over the time skip (a time skip that characters only matured over) is that sexism is something only the mentally equivalent of children have and you’re supposed to mature out of it. On the other hand, I see it as yet another missed opportunity.

Addressing the idea of biases is not only an interesting topic when it’s actually discussed, but it’s also in line with the series’s theme about understanding bringing people together. Yes, it’s funny to say bigotry is the result of immaturity, but it isn’t accurate. Bigotry is the result of the belief of a group of people is fundamentally different from you that ranges from simple biases that align with common stereotypes (like women being submissive, Jewish people being greedy, etc.) to believing a group isn’t human.

I don’t think Shikamaru is quite extreme enough to view women as nonhuman, but he doesn’t just have simple biases. Keep in mind that I mean the sort of everyday biases most people have when I say “simple biases”. They’re more expectations for how someone will act based on a group they’re a part of and they’re mostly subconscious. Bigotry is an extremely harsh term for it because it’s just ignorance. A person hasn’t interacted with a group much so they base their conclusions about that group on what they’ve heard from others or seen through media. Shikamaru isn’t just presumptuous, he makes judgments and condescends women based on their sex. I’d say he’s somewhere in the lower-middle range; he isn’t outright discriminatory, but he’s an asshole coworker who says some dumb shit.

So, what would I do with him? I’d give him an arc similar to the ones Sokka from ATLA and Louis from Beastars have. The character’s beliefs are challenged by a character/through a scene(Team Avatar get captured by the kyoshi warriors and Legoshi’s character respectively), then while still in a state of worldview confusion, they interact with people from the group they’re biased against which changes their perspective(Kyoshi warriors/Suki and the Shishigumi). I don’t want anything to think that I believe it’s the responsibility of the marginalized group to educate or walk ignorant people to a place of tolerance or understanding because it’s not, but I do believe that the only way you can view people as equals is by interacting with them as equals.

I see it playing out like this:

The chunin exams stay the same with Shikamaru still beating Kin and Temari. The focus is establishing his character, his strengths and weaknesses in combat, and his dynamic with the other cast members.

Shikamaru gets a scene to show his opinion on Tsunade becoming the first female Hokage to expand on the assumptions he’s working under specifically (women only care about superficial and frivolous things, and they’re weak in combat).

During the Sasuke Retrieval arc, he gets his ass absolutely kicked by Tayuya and he’s saved by Temari, who says she arrived to help mend the relationship between Suna and Konoha. (Tayuya challenges his assumption that women are weak and Temari challenges the assumption that women are superficial.)

Over the training period/in shippuden, Shikamaru would further interact with the female cast (on screen) and have his biases challenged even more by characters like Sakura, Ino, Hinata, TenTen, Temari, and Tsunade furthering their skills and showing competency both in and out of combat.

This could culminate in something dramatic like a fight against a female villain (Konan, genderbent Hidan, or new villain) that he actually takes seriously or he could simply move past his ignorance.

I know that you can argue that all of this happened, but I’m not giving Kishimoto points for doing all of his good character writing/development off screen.

#Character development #anti naruto #anti naruto shippuden #I guess #I need to stop making posts I don’t know how to tag #naruto rewrite #fixing naruto #shikamaru nara #my stooff

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itsahotminuteinbetween · 1 year ago

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Chapter 8

GUESS WHO'S BACK WITH ANOTHER CHAPTER That's right, after being out of commission for a couple months, chapter 8 is FINALLY finished.

AND I HAVE SOME GOOD NEWS FOR THE PEOPLE WHO'VE BEEN ASKING FOR IT:

Where the Stars Don't Shine is finally posted on ao3! The new chapter is here!

I am so so so sorry about the wait, so I made it extra long just for you guys! As always, @itsberrydreemurstuff, @bibooby, @laegume and @andyssilly, welcome back to the slumber party, I saved yall some front row seats! (If anyone else wants to be tagged just lemme know and I'll put ya in the next one!) Anyways, hope yall enjoy this, and without further ado-

On with the show!

Word Count: 4,962

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All your excitement during your encounter with Sun vanishes when it becomes clear just what sort of day it’s going to be.

You had a bit of a mixed bag in attendance today. All your regulars, plus a couple new faces here and there. It started out okay, really.

And then one new kid in particular showed his hand and cemented his legacy as one of the most spoiled children you have ever had the dishonor of meeting.

You try not to dwell on it and just move on, but this kid…this kid is awful . Pushing other kids around, turning his nose up at snacks and eating off other kids’ plates, ripping the heads off toys…

(You really have to remember to bring your sewing kit next time.)

You know it’s not the kid’s fault for his behavior, more of the people who raised him, and you try not to hold it against him, you really do. By the looks of it, Sun is trying, too, but both of your patience is drawing thin.

You draw the line when he tears out a page of your books that one of the other boys was reading.

You remind yourself repeatedly that you are not allowed to punch a child.

You do put him in time-out, though. And you can guess by this kid’s behavior that their parents are going to raise hell about it.

You discover some hours later that your assumption is completely correct when said parent comes in later to pick up their child and you confront them about the brat’s behavior, to which their response is an offended gasp and a rant about how awful your work ethic is and you’re not providing enough care this is why people like you are in jobs like this you’re lucky you’re even employed that makes the brick walls behind security desk that you have the strong urge to slam your head into all the more appealing. You stand there with a polite customer service smile and take it like the valued employee you are while trying to remember what temperature human flesh burns at before chastising yourself, until you’re thrown back into reality and catch the tail end of what she says.

“-and are you even listening to me right now? Ugh, you’re even denser than the robot, at least it can do its job right. You’re supposed to be the competent worker and you’re being beaten by a walking junkyard pile-”

Yeah, nope, not this again.

You bristle at her words, gritting your teeth slightly and forcing your smile to maintain itself. If it looks slightly more manic than intended, that can’t be helped, but you had always been good at playing the part of someone weaker than you. “I’m so sorry you feel that way, ma’am. I’m sure you can leave a review regarding our services on our website if you’d like. However, Fazbear does not tolerate abuse and slander of any of its staff. Thanks for stopping by and have a Faz-er- iffic day!”

You slam the door in her face just as she opens her mouth (likely to respond with another offensive remark) and dust your hands off in satisfaction. It’s not the first time someone’s come to complain about you and your coworkers. In truth, the company probably couldn’t care less how the clients treated their workers and their ��property’ as long as they got paid. Slander against you, you could understand; you signed a contract and sold your soul away. One of the agreements was to deal with annoying clients. But the other two? They had been built for this, any complaint against them was the fault of the company itself, and besides, you couldn’t see them as anything other than people since the moment you’d spoken to them. After all, a company probably wouldn’t leave a prerecorded message expressing immediate hostility towards its employees on their first day of work, now would it?

They had to have some level of sentience to make that decision.

You mark off the last child with a pleased grin. At least with the way she’d reacted you could guarantee that neither the harpy woman nor her little satan spawn son ever set foot in the Daycare ever again.

You do unfortunately still have to clean up the carnage left behind, though. You grab a broom and a dustpan, ready to sweep up the crumbled play-doh and ripped stuffing from earlier, back straightening with a sharp inhale when the lights cut off. Not terribly uncommon, but it still left you uneasy. Moon didn’t get to do his little song and dance during naptime because you were preoccupied punishing a rulebreaker, and you’re pretty sure he’s fixing to dish out his skewed idea of justice one way or another.

Lo and behold, the tell-tale click of a wire descending directly behind you gives away his intentions.

“ Aww , thank you for defending our honor so nobly , little knight,” he croons mockingly. You don’t even have to turn in his direction to know he’s fanning his faceplate and fake swooning in a ‘my fair maiden’ pose. You say nothing, just sweeping stiffly under his suspended shadow and inspecting the floor. You’d have to bring out the vacuum for the carpet, plus a mop.

You miss his frown at your evident disinterest.

“So brave, to come to our aid when we were utterly defenseless ,” he continues, picking a small bit of clay off your shoulder and flicking it aside. “But you know, you seemed to have forgotten what I told you earlier…”

He pauses, seemingly waiting for some response of probing to continue. If he is, he’ll be sorely disappointed. Though you’re usually the one after them for conversation, you’re in no mood for it after the day-no, the week, the whole damn month , really- you’ve had. You just want to go home, take a shower, and sleep for an eternity.

His frown grows further in distaste, and he decides to grab your attention by gripping your shoulders tightly and lifting you a few inches off the ground. Your previously unfocused gaze now snaps to him, alert and on guard.

Wuh-oh.

That’s more like it.

“We do not need your help ,” he sneers, shaking you by the front of your shirt. You blink and gulp nervously, unsure as to where this is coming from. You feel the worst of your nausea as he starts to raise you towards the ceiling with you hanging onto his wrists tightly.

“Moon…” you speak warningly, a shot of nervousness streaking through you as the ground grows further away. His only response is a sadistic chuckle, and the delicately crafted facade over your sickness accumulating from over the past few weeks worsens exponentially. Your stomach lurches and you hazard a quick glance down. You’re hanging a good thirty feet above the ballpit and still steadily climbing, and judging by the glint in your captor’s eyes, you’re not going to like where this is headed.

It’s safe to panic now.

“Moon, stop it, that’s enough,” you tell him, voice wavering. After no response, you try again. “Moon, that’s enough, put me down.” Silence. “That’s enough , drop it!”

He stops for a second, grin falling a little before returning full force. “Well, if you insist ,” he laughs darkly.

Your eyes widen and for a moment, nothing happens. Then he yanks your hands off him and lets go, watching you plummet to the ground with sinister glee.

Then, you’re falling.

You think you scream, you can’t tell. You crash into the ballpit right after, but it doesn’t cushion your fall. You hiss immediately on impact, clenching your fists and curling in on yourself. The plastic balls dig into your spine, sending waves of pain throughout your body. Your eyes are squeezed shut and you don’t dare open them lest you see that face looming over you. You do a quick check-over, wiggling your toes and bending your joints weakly. Somehow, nothing is broken, but you can’t tell over the searing pain in your side. You thought it was bad before, but that was nothing compared to now. The dull ache is burning, setting your nerves on fire with as much as a twitch. Your back is in a similar shape, as are your legs.

You don’t know how long you stay like that before Moon’s shadow looms over you from the side of the pit. He makes some stab at you that you don’t really process over the ringing in your ears. Existing hasn’t taken such a toll on you before. His voice still carries into the white noise. You manage to get your mouth moving again and whisper, voice crackling, “Knock it off, Moon.”

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t let up on his teasing, and you vaguely register his response. “Oh, poor little worker can’t take a tumble. Too weak to pick yourself back up again? Not that I see much of a difference. You’ve always got your head down, ballpit or that desk you laze at. Best to let the ‘bucket of bolts’ do the work, hm ?”

You say nothing, not finding the idea of lifting your head and entertaining his little act worth it in your state. You remain limp in the ballpit, knees hugged to your chest in fetal position.

You hear him step closer to you, and jerk slightly when blue digits dig into your shoulders to pull you up. A cry of pain erupts from you at the fingers embedding themselves in your shoulder blades. They retract quickly as if burned by a pot sitting too long on the stove, as if this was the first time they’ve ever felt such heat before. Your severe pain and slightly depressive state dissipates momentarily and is instead replaced with white-hot anger that threatens to bubble over.

You slap his hand away and shout, “It’s not funny, Moon, knock it off! ”

He freezes, hands twitching in the air. His optics flicker, narrowing as he reaches back out to capture you once out. You smack his wrist again and ignore the added pain of striking metal.

You stagger out of the ballpit, standing on shaky legs. You don’t give him a chance to speak before you start up again.

“What the hell is wrong with you, man? You dropped me from 50 feet up, I could’ve died ! What did I even do to you?”

His faceplate turns in a silent half-rotation before he shrugs.

Oh no he did not .

You explode, gesturing wildly as his simple movement spurs you on. “So what, you just don’t like me and decided to fucking throw me off the balcony like some- some doll for you to mess around with?! Pfft, yeah sure, that makes sense! Let’s just drop someone from 40 feet ‘because we don’t like them’! Wow, Moon, I can see how you guys got your position with that logic !”

“Oh wait! ” you spin around sharply, a manic grin on your face that seems to twist every meek and modest feature on your face as you continue on. “That’s why I’m here! Because for all your hard work, Management still decided to shove me into this hellhole! And it doesn’t mean much, it’s Management, they don’t mean anything, but hey , guess what? I never wanted to be here, but surprise-surprise, no one wants to hire a nobody who didn’t push through their degree except a shady company with a world record in OSHA violations and an even bigger death toll! So here I am, getting paid 30 dollars an hour to deal with your ungrateful asses for five hours a day, not to mention the ridiculous amount of unpaid overtime of three to five EXTRA hours I dedicate to this sorry place, all without a single day off in the past six months that I have worked here, each of which have been filled with your non-stop harassment and shitty attitude, which for some bizarre reason I haven’t reported yet! So why, pray tell, have you been dead set on punishing me for a crime I have yet to commit? What did I even do to you?”

It’s a trap. Moon knows it’s a trap, but he refuses to let you get away with such slander on his turf. He rolls his eyes and huffs, “ Oh, please , you aren’t nearly as victimized as you make yourself out to be. You slack off during playtime while Sun handles everything, you’re constantly snoozing away at your desk unless you oh-so graciously decide to grace us with a moment of your time, and sometimes you don’t even show up at all. I think we have much more of a right to type up a report than you ever will.”

Alright, that’s it- “Oh, really ? Alright, buster, don’t give me that shit, I know damn well what I’m worth. For the record, I do play with the kids - which, if I may remind you, is not in my job description- until sweet lil Sunny starts giving me a death stare for daring to intrude on his precious playtime. And I do pitch in around here, just as much if not MORE than you do! Guess what, cheesehead? I clean the ballpit. I order the food, I buy the supplies, bring the books, put the kids toys back together, organize a monthly schedule AND deal with your sorry asses, so don’t be telling me how to do my job, got it ? And don’t start up about my breaks, cuz, huh , I wasn’t aware that a two minute break in the place of an hour’s worth of free time was against my contract! I take time off when I know I’m not needed so that I don’t keel over and leave you to deal with over 40 kids! And even with that, I’ve still never taken an actual sick day off the entire time I’ve worked here because I know this is how you’ll react! When was the last time I didn’t show up to work, huh?”

Moon is swift with his reply, almost anticipating the question. “Last month, you took nearly two weeks off without telling your supervisors,” he states triumphantly, as if this had somehow won him the argument.

Oh, this absolute idiot .

His victorious grin falls slightly at your disbelieving laughter. “Two weeks?! I’ve been working here for six months and you’re hung up on two weeks ?! I’ll have you know that I did tell my supervisors-which you are not , by the way- that I would be out on unpaid sick leave. And I know they didn’t tell you about it because I knew exactly what would happen, and it did! I thought you could respect it and let it go , but apparently not, cuz you can’t handle not sticking your obnoxiously pointed nose up someone’s business! And now I’m the nosy one!” Your voice grows louder, and you throw your arms out with a wide, dangerous gleam in your eyes.

“You wanna know where I was? Why I was gone? Well guess what, Craterhead, I was in the hospital making sure my brother didn’t drop dead ! I had to make sure he didn’t flat line halfway through a surgery !”

Oh.

Oh no.

Moon’s eyes widen, regret flickering across his face for a second. He takes a small step back, retreating as you advance. A jab to the chest pulls him back to the present, and his optics narrow.

“But you don’t care about any of that, do you? All you care about is your stupid reputation and oh no, Sunny and Moony can’t have a human ruining everything, because that’s all this meatbag knows how to do! Oh no, poor Sunny and Moony!”

You watch his expression drop like a thermometer exposed to subzero temperatures, red optics pinpricks in a sea of black that threaten to overtake them, contracted pupils tensed like a rubber band about to snap. A spark of something, perhaps vindication, ignites within you, overshadowing the voice in the back of your mind that quietly warns you of what to come, to back down before it’s too late.

A pity your brother isn’t here to hold you back.

Your voice drops dangerously low for a moment, a deathly whisper that somehow seeps fear into Moon’s systems more than your uncontrolled rage.“I bet you tried to break me, didn’t you, wanted to see me all battered and bruised with my tail tucked between my legs as I ran out of this godforsaken place. Oh, don’t act so surprised, we both knew you never liked me. You never liked me or the idea of someone coming along to jeopardize your position, your life’s purpose, the only thing you have ever been good for, and so you pushed, even when I went along with all your orders, all your demands and your stupid checkpoints and your stupid, stupid rules, pushed and pushed and pushed until I couldn’t take it anymore, and here we are. Well, no more ! You knew there was a breaking point, you both did. Well, here it is, the final straw! Your hard work finally paid off, you’ve made me even more miserable than before, and for what? Is this what you wanted, Moon, Sun? Are you finally satisfied? ”

Moon is still in front of you, hands drawn to his chest, pupils watching fat drops roll down your cheeks and leave stained rivers on your skin as you smile that angry, heartbreaking, defeated smile that cuts through their wires like glass shards, words stabbing through his central processors and sending a jolt through them both. He wants to respond, wants to say something clever and leave you sputtering and defeated, but nothing comes to mind. He always has a retort, a comeback, a witty remark or a snarky comment to make you bend to their will, and yet this time he’s the one left grasping for straws. He’s speechless, voicebox pushing out low static as he struggles to formulate a reply. You don’t give him the time to, resuming with a steady confidence they’ve never seen in you before. This is a side of you that is unfamiliar to them. They don’t quite know what to make of it, and so they stay unwillingly silent as you answer your own question with an air of finality.

“No, you’re not. And I’ll tell you why. This perfection that you’ve tried so hard to pin down? Hate to break it to you, buddy, but perfect is something even machines can’t accomplish, no matter how advanced or well-built they think they are. It never will be. You and Sun both think you’re oh-so-great and so far above lil ol’ me and my stupid human brain, but I think you forget that you’re just as bad as I am. I’ve seen the daycare reviews, boys, and trust me, they are not pretty. Our sweet little ball of Sunshine scared kids so bad with his pushiness that a good deal of them just didn’t come back, and you? Oh, you scared the shit out of kids, didn’t you? You left them shivering in their sleeping bags in fear of the very thing that swore to protect them.

“So tell me”- you tilt your head, smile growing sickeningly sweet as your eyes squint upwards, hands poised together as you punctuate every syllable that leaves your lips - “What exactly do you think gives you any authority over me? How do you think you can protect anyone from me when you can’t even protect them from yourself?”

You let the words hang in the air for a moment, the manic grin not leaving your face as you turn around to sweep over the daycare after the prolonged eye contact with burning red optics begins to sting your eyes.

“But hey!” you call out behind you with a laugh like shattered glass left on cold tile. “Don’t take my word for it. I’m just the dumb worker you had to boot cuz you didn’t want someone to steal the spotlight.”

You whip back around to give a final comment before catching a glimpse of Moon. His pupils are near non-existent, eyes dark and empty. His static grin is too wide, fingers too sharp, curling and uncurling. You freeze, words cutting to a halt, and you swear his grin grows wider.

“ R̶̻̘̃͂̈́͋́ ̶̢̛͇̠͔̤̥͉̜̖̫̰̬̬̝̓͛̾̅̓̑̌́͆̅̇̿̎͂̈́͘̕͠Ǘ̸̡̻͖̅̄̄̚ ̵͖̱͕̫̋̈́̀́͊̇̐̀̒̒̋͑̅̀͗̊́́̚̕͝N̵̘̰͓̹̖̘̦̪͂̓̎̅̊̀͘̕͜ ̶̡͕̙͖̟͍̼͙̠̺̹̦̘̙̘̠̏̾̿̏̂͜ͅ," he growls.

It sends a chill up your spine, dousing your anger in fear. You don’t waste time waiting for him to start chasing. You’re already booking it across the Daycare and to the exit.

You’re maybe 10 paces in when you hear him behind you, wire clicking and shooting him to the ceiling. You know it’s a losing battle, he could easily take you if he wanted to. He doesn’t though, not yet. It’s the chase he’s after.

You dare not turn to check behind you, instead running blindly in hopes of somehow managing to hide. Your logical reason tells you to just leave, but it’s drowned out by pure instinct to run, get away, danger-

Moon has a severe advantage and you both know it. He knows the area. Still, you foolishly blunder on, making a hard right that almost makes you trip before you stumble back up again. You’re lucky he doesn’t do this more often because man you are out of shape. He hasn’t chased you since the first two months, you’d thought these games were behind you.

You wheeze as you bump into a wall, barely managing to dodge a wet floor bot. You can’t keep this up much longer. Your heart’s been kicked into overdrive, beating at a rate you know isn’t normal. Distantly, pain tingles in your elbow, muffled by the adrenaline pulsing through you. You’re surprised you haven’t bumped into any of the GlamRocks. They may not like you, but it’s better than this.

Maybe they’re patrolling different floors? They could be charging.

All at the same time.

Yeah…

You skid to a sudden stop. You were just here, weren’t you? Ugh, these hallways all looked the same. Your eyes dart around wildly, spotting the familiar Daycare entrance. The faces of golden statues are smiling down at you.

You can’t recall a time where that’s happened to you before.

Your eyes dart around for some place to hide, landing on a closet. You hear jingling bells in the distance.

You silently pray there aren’t any spiders before shutting yourself inside, leaving the door open just a crack for a sliver of light.

It’s not a terribly big closet. There’s maybe enough room for you to stand upright. You sit with your knees tucked under your chin, eyes never leaving the door. Just in time. The wire descends and detaches, two feet coming into view. They pad softly on the cold tile, making no noise as he prowls for his prey.

A shadow in front of the door.

You hold your breath, freezing and throwing a hand over your mouth.

A pause.

His attention is shifted elsewhere. He grumbles and stalks off, leaving you in the dark.

You wait maybe thirty seconds for the footsteps to grow silent before exhaling softly and taking stock of your situation. You’re stuck in a broom closet at work and the only other worker here tonight just left.

Not that Moon would be of any help , you thought bitterly. He just wants you out of the way.

You can’t really blame him for that , though, can you ?

The thought almost sets you off the edge, but you reign yourself in, letting go of a self-deprecating laugh and wiping the tears that form in the corners of your eyes. It doesn’t help. New ones replace them and you let your hands fall back into your lap.

No. No, you couldn’t blame them for it. You invaded their space and made a mess of things. You have a habit of doing that.

That’s why you left, after all. You couldn’t handle messing that up , either.

A shaky sob escapes you, and you press your palms to your eyes to stop the flow of tears trickling down your face. You need this job, you can’t lose it. If you lost it, you’d have no other options. You’d be out of house and home, and then what? Go back with your tail tucked between your legs?

No. You couldn’t go back.

What other choices did you have?

It didn’t matter, anyway. At the end of the day, nothing would change. You were still you, and something always goes wrong no matter what you do. Didn’t matter how hard you tried or how fair it was, it’s always the same.

Sometimes you wonder if everyone would’ve been better off had your brother been an only child.

A soft buzzing in your pocket snaps you out of your episode. You fish your phone out in surprise. That’s right, you’d put it there after this morning. It vibrates in your hand, the caller ID flashing across the screen. It’s your mother. You stare at it dumbly, making no move to answer it. You’re half tempted to just let it ring till she gives up and drops it as always, but…

You need something to keep the quiet at bay right now.

Swiping to start the call, you hear shuffling over the static and put the speaker close to your ear. A short “hello?” is heard and repeated as she tries to figure out how to use the brick in her hand.

The act is familiar and you manage a watery smile. “Hi, mom.”

“Can you hear m-oh, good, you’re there. Your brother said you messaged him this morning and we just wanted to check in.” Her tone shifts. “You okay there?”

You don’t think you can pull off pretending that you’re fine at the moment. You sniffle into the receiver, curling further in on yourself. “I’m okay, I just…I just had a bad day at work.”

“Oh, sweetheart…”she sighs, and you wince slightly, not really feeling up to whatever questions she has to ask. “You wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head before remembering that you’re on the phone, instead muttering a quiet ‘no’ into the speaker. She stays uncharacteristically silent on the other side of the line, her subtle shifting of the phone the only indicator that she’s still on the call. You know she wants to pry further, force an answer out of you. Sometimes, you almost wish she did, wish she pushed just a bit harder so you could finally break and let it all out.

She doesn’t this time though, puttering out a soft sigh. “Well…alright. Just remember, we’re always here if you need us. Your brother’ll probably check on you anyway, you know how he gets. Just don’t let him burn the building down for your sake.”

A wet snort slips past you before you catch it, imagining your anarchist brother expressing his rage against the machine and corporate capitalism by burning down a rip-off Chuck-E-Cheese. You didn’t think your mother was capable of creating an image like that, either. She hadn’t exactly been very invested in either of your interests. You wonder if she’s been taking pointers from your brother.

You wave the thoughts aside, realizing you’ve let the conversation taper off and…

You suppose you can let this phone call end on a higher note. You both sort of need it anyway.

“Thanks, mom,” you whisper coarsely, leaning against the stacked boxes and letting your head fall back.

“Of course, dear. You just call us back when you’re ready. Oh, and try to tag along with your brother sometime, it gets lonely without you there. You were much better at listening to his mechanical jargle than we are.”

You exchange a few more quiet answers before wishing her a good night and hanging up, squinting at your brightly lit phone in the dark space. The time reads a little past 10. Moon’s first round of patrols is likely finished, which means it’s finally safe to leave this cramped compartment.

The door remains shut when you turn the knob.

You try for the handle again, rattling it with greater and greater intensity as your panic begins to build up to no avail. Your hands form fists, soon beginning to bang on the door, eyes wide and breathing erratic. Try as you might, it’s sealed like a tomb, effectively locked inside.

No, no, no , this can’t be happening, not here, not now. You don’t want to be here, don’t want to be in this dark, cramped closet at the end of some forgotten corridor, stashed with all the boxes and cleaning supplies.

Your brother had locked you into a closet once. Flipped the switch on the outside and left you alone to battle the demons you couldn’t see. It had been funny, back then, until you started screaming and begging to be let out.

It wasn’t funny now.

You drop to the floor, hands sliding down the wood to lay limply beside you. You can feel yourself shaking, bones rattling as you tremble. Your lungs burn with the force of the rapid inhale-exhale pattern you struggle to keep stable, your heartbeat pounding at the front of your head. Inhale, exhale, thump, thump, inhale, thump -oh, weren’t you supposed to exhale first- thump -and your heart’s not pumping, you can’t breathe, you need to breathe -

You gasp, head reeling, nails digging into your palms and leaving red marks. You struggle to ground yourself, forcing your eyes to focus on the sliver of light from under the doorframe. You inch back, still trembling lightly, staring blankly at the floor as the cold reality dawns on you.

You’re trapped.

No one is here to save you now.

Aaaaand that's a wrap! Hope yall enjoyed that lil chapter, seems like our y/n's gotten into quite a pickle! It's okay, though, they needed some time to process anyways. Speaking of which, Sun and Moon have a LOT to think about... Not sure when I'll post chapter 9, sorry! I have a couple of short snippets planned out already, but typing and connecting them is a whole other matter, so I dunno when I'll get back to this. Until then, however, I hope this is enough, and unfortunately...

The theater is closed...

#sorry to bother #don't mind me #where the stars don't shine #wtsds #fnaf sun x reader #fnaf sun x y/n #fnaf moon x reader #fnaf moon x y/n #i dunno what other tags to use #also not sure if yall still want me to post the chapters on tumblr or just on ao3 #hmm #guess I'll have to put out a poll abt that

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dandelionjack · 9 months ago

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oh the martin/ianto parallel is very real actually... also. do you remember when at some point towards the end martin said that in another universe they wouldn't have got together and people got mad

yes i remember that. martin and jon aren’t good romantic partners for one another they were forced together by the strings of fate and necessity. they are doomed yaoi from the start and dying together under the ruins of the panopticon is genuinely the best outcome for them. i don’t fuck with ‘somewhere else’

+ it’s actually crazy how many parallels there are between the torchwood team and the archives gang. i’ve been saying this.

1) coworkers that all hate each other but fandom tends to misconstrue them as ‘found family’

2) “secret” british institution based out of the basement in a capital city. founded to deal with, research, classify and exploit paranormal threats

3) sasha = tosh. owen = tim. almost perfect 1-1 match considering their respective competence in their research fields, sasha and tim’s deeply uncomfortable situationship history and the fact that they are both. yk. the first to die. also one of them Dies But Not Really

4) jack = jon is a more tenuous connection apart from the Mysterious Team Leader Slowly Losing Their Humanity parallel. their personalities are almost perpendicular. asexual oxbridge snob vs slutty extroverted american. eh it works.

5) MOST IMPORTANTLY martin = ianto! guy who presents himself as nonthreatening innocent uwu assistant who makes the tea and just kind of helps the others out, surely he’s not hiding anything, surely he’s not far more astute and sharp than he makes himself out to be. the rest of his colleagues tolerate his presence but don’t consider him to be a fully-fledged serious member of the team, and that’s the way he prefers it. is the cuddly teddy bear facade just a mask he puts on for protection? what’s that? manipulation? oops!

also there’s the matter of the crush on the boss.

#why is this so long.#torchwood #tma #martin blackwood #ianto jones #jamie.txt #asks

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eldritch-spouse · 2 years ago

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you did mention before in other replies that Santi is very hostile towards other concubi. i enjoy reading those cuz my brain conjures up the most ridiculous scenarios where Santi's literally chasing off a concubus or having a cat fight with one, and wanted to send an ask of my own.

what if Santi's obsession was a demon or a different monster that's half-concubus? or even a human with concubus heritage, if that's even possible at all in your world.

let's say that the half-concubus is neither competitive nor confrontational, so when Santi makes it clear that he won't tolerate competing for "food", they back off without a fuss and choose to hunt somewhere else. maybe they wander back to The Clergy on occasion simply out of curiosity (and mayyybe they're a bit lonely, wanting someone to talk to and not always for the purpose of fucking), but they always make it known to Santi that they have no interest in taking any of his clients. they try not to cause any trouble, but sometimes they can't help eyeballing some of The Clergy members if they didn’t get their fill before stopping by.

with that all said...what if the other monster boys were obsessed with a concubus/half-concubus s/o?

specifically Morell, Gallon, Belo, Ludwig, and Obie.

Not much would change in Santi's demeanor. He's old enough to sniff out half-breeds, and you're not weaseling past his radar. He's still going to be quite tense, and he'd rather let you starve than feed off one of his coworkers. You're more of a nuisance to him than anything, and he'll struggle to look past your nature to even consider getting to know you more as a person.

The thing with having a concubus/half-concubus partner isn't really discrimination, only one of the monsters you listed has conflicted feelings about demons, and that's Belo.

Belo, naturally, has been taught since youth that demons are corrupted scum and he should murder one whenever he's given the chance, because it equates to purifying the world, at least in the eyes of siadar. Belo was trained from youth for this, it's really hard to unlearn that, and he's only trying to because of his lord, who employs this wretched trash. Getting to tolerate Santi has already been a monumental effort in which he still falters to this day- Falling in love with a concubus will just about destroy Belo's cool. He's done, he checked out, he's going to stuff himself in his private room and have a meltdown over how worthless of an angel he is. Then he's going to address you as if you robbed him. It's not a pretty ordeal.

There might be a little bit of hesitation on Morell's side. Bernice and Harvey were raised with very distinct values, and one of them is that you should always be alert around demons no matter how nice they seem (which isn't all that wrong, when you consider that most are mischievous, to varying degrees). Morell serves and converses with demons, and he doesn't feel any particular disdain for Santi- But wanting one is different. More intimacy, more vulnerability. It's safe to say the mushroom will start doing some research and keep his Piglet under his thumb at all times. Trust is gained slowly.

Gallon is entirely ambivalent to your nature as a demon and shares no preconceived ideas that you're "to be avoided/harmed". He'll approach you in much the same way he would any other person, though always a little more careful, given that depending on your power, you can render him pliant easily under the right circumstances. He treats this like an exciting game, and deep down, he kind of wants you to prey on him a little.

Ludwig and Obie are the most ready to accept you. Your nature means nothing to them, as they've met and interacted with many a concubus in the Common Rings of Hell. Both are proud and happy to be you, just as they would with any other type of monster/human.

The problem comes with the workplace and Santi. The incubus doesn't want competition at any cost, and you being in a relationship with one of his coworkers won't change that. To put it mildly, your relationship with him will always be tense, and your partner has been warned by both him and Admin to not let you eat in The Clergy unless you're specifically eating off the monster you're in a relationship with.

I wouldn't put Santi above several, petty attempts to drive you away. He just thinks you should take a hike already.

#Santi oc #Morell oc #Belo oc #Gallon oc #Ludwig oc #Obie oc

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merge-conflict · 1 year ago

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coming in late with 10, 16 & 19 for Val and the tech ask game? :3c

Not late at all! :3 Questions here

10. Describe a photo they have saved on their phone.

Because their relationship is neither encouraged or really tolerated, Val doesn't have any actual photos of Goro per se- but she does have one where he's in the background of a photo Abernathy sent her of someone else she wanted dirt dug up on. And she's saved it because if you zoom in you can just see that Goro is almost smiling at something, and because of the time stamp she knows it's something she messaged him.

16. Let’s look at their search history. What are the last 5 things they searched?

allintext: RTL8723BU datasheet -site:screensheets.nc -filetype:.pdf

word for when someone is being stupid on purpose

word for when someone is both stupid and sad

movies with fights on top of trains

kerry eurodyne*

* I like to imagine she pulls up his cyberwiki page to see how old he is and also how tall and then starts arguing with Johnny about whether some of the facts in the article are wrong or not. He gets really mad and she thinks it's extremely funny.

19. What are their most frequently visited websites?

Definitely whatever the cyberpunk versions of StackOverflow and tech message boards/discord chat/IRC channels exist. For sure she is a longstanding member of some RE hobbyist forum where she spends most of her time bullying and trolling and never gets banned because the admin and moderators think it's funny. Possibly she's subbed to some "Puzzle of the Day" type site and competes with her coworkers/fellow nerds.

#ask meme #she's simply a class A nerd and also a bully #tyyy for the ask

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addictedtostorytelling · 9 months ago

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Hello! I really enjoy your CSI metas, they’re always very insightful and just delightful to read. I have a two-part question, if you’re interested in answering (it’s very long, sorry, and I apologise if you’ve answered something similiar!):

1. We get mostly clear dates on when Grissom, Sara, and Catherine (despite them changing it later) joined the lab and became CSIs, but I’m less clear on Nick, Warrick, and Greg. We do some info early on - S1E17 Warrick mentions he’s worked at the lab for six years - which makes sense to me, as he would’ve been not far out of college by then; in S2E11 he says he was a rookie three years prior. In S1E22, Nick says he was a CSI ‘before Warrick’. And Greg - apocryphal info on the CSI wiki says he worked at the SFPD lab prior to Vegas, but I don’t really take it as canon. So what’s your understanding of how each came to be a CSI/and or work at the lab, prior to 2000?

2. What’s your opinion on the relationship between Nick and Warrick prior to the show? Real ‘friends’ or just coworkers with a friendly rivalry? They start the show off comfortable enough to joke around with each other, and they’re obviously competing for the CSI III role, but they don’t strike me as ‘friends’ early on, the way they became later. Same goes for Nick and Greg, (and Warrick and Greg). Sometimes they seem to be genuinely friendly with Greg, sometimes just seem to tolerate him.

Anyway - perhaps I’ve missed something because it’s been a while since I’ve watched the entire show, but I’ve just always been very curious about how the early members of the team worked together pre-show, and was wondering what your interpretation of those relationships might be.

hi, anon!

unfortunately, trying to figure out character biographies on csi is a crapshoot.

not only do we get conflicting information between episodes/seasons—as you mention, in episode 01x18 "$35k obo," we are told warrick has been on the job for six years, suggesting he began working at the lab in 1995; however, in episode 02x11 "organ grinder," his rookie year is stated to have been 1998—but the old cbs character biographies don't offer much clarification, as they oftentimes conflict with in-show information and/or with each other in multiple versions (e.g., catherine's old biography says she was born in montana, whereas show canon frequently suggests she was born and raised in vegas).

with that acknowledgment in mind, the best i can do for you is conjecture.

to do so, i'll make reference to the old cbs character biographies, which are no longer available in their original form but can be found in bits and pieces all over the internet.

i've got some takes for you after the "keep reading," if you're interested.

let's start with warrick.

with his 1971 birth year, he is approximately 28 or 29 years-old (the same as nick and sara) in s1, which takes place in 2000.

we know he attended college at (the fictional) wlvu for four years and, per his many references to the jobs he had during this time, worked to put himself through school. he most likely graduated with his bachelor's degree circa 1992 or 1993.

there is then some "unaccounted for time" in almost all of his character biographies and the information we're given about him in the show. no reference is ever made to him attending graduate school, though it's possible he may have earned a master's degree at some point between 1992 and 1995 (perhaps at unlv). he also may simply have spent this time working.

given that several of warrick's old cbs biographies stated he started out at the lab as a tech (most likely a/v), we can perhaps use this idea to "bridge the gap" between his seemingly conflicting csi start dates given in s1 and s2.

to me, the idea that warrick may have started at the lvpd crime lab as an a/v tech prior to becoming a field csi seems eminently plausible, given he does have an affinity for technology and especially seems to know a lot about audio, so i'm willing to accept that notion, even though it's never confirmed in canon.

let's say he started at the lab as an a/v tech in 1995. later, he transitioned to the field circa 1997 and fully certified as a csi level i by 1998. he then spent 1998-1999 earning his csi level ii certification and became a csi level iii in late 2000.

meanwhile, nick was also a 1971 baby and would have been 29 years-old during csi s1 (given his august birthday).

he graduated from high school in 1989 and for the next four years attended texas a&m university in college station, texas, where he pledged an unspecified fraternity. he most likely graduated from college in 1992/1993.

his old biographies are pretty much unanimous in saying he began his career as a cop with the dallas pd straight out of college. after graduating from the police academy probably circa 1992/1993/1994, he was on the force until 1997, when he transferred to csi while still in dallas.

while this detail is (to the best of my knowledge) never corroborated in show canon, to me, it fits well with nick's character and even perhaps explains why he, of all the csis, is the quickest to pursue fleeing suspects, draw his sidearm, place unruly suspects in submission holds, generally take "police action," etc.

after earning his csi level i certification, nick then relocated to vegas in 1998, where he began work at the crime lab under grissom. he earned his csi level ii certification sometime between 1998 and 1999 and certified as a csi level iii on october 16th, 2000 (slightly before warrick did, by brass's design, in episode 01x01 "pilot").

so.

as for the question of who became a csi first out of warrick and nick:

both warrick and nick began training as field csis circa 1997 and earned their respective csi level i certifications in 1998, albeit warrick in vegas and nick (starting out) in dallas.

since we don't know the exact months in which they each respectively began their training and/or earned their level i certifications, it's possible nick may indeed have become a csi before warrick either by commencing field training before him and/or earning his level i certification before him, certainly.

however, my understanding of nick's "i've been a csi level iii for nine months now. i was a csi before warrick. warrick works dbs solo. why can't i?" line from episode 01x22 "evaluation day" isn't that he's referring to when they each respectively started their csi careers but rather (as per the larger context of that conversation between him and grissom) that he is making specific reference to the fact that he certified as a csi level iii before warrick did—if only by a couple of days/weeks (and with a little help from brass).

i therefore don't think we can say with surety that nick has been a csi longer than warrick has overall; warrick may actually have "seniority" but have simply certified as a csi level iii after nick did.

as for greg, since that apocryphal "he used to work at the sfpd" story has never really made sense to me—if he had, wouldn't he and sara already have known each other prior to s1? i mean, just given their ages and where they are in their respective careers by the time the events of s1 are taking place, they would have had to have overlapped in san francisco from around 1997-1998, had they both worked there—i spent some time trying to determine its provenance and was able to figure out that way, way back in the csi forum days, someone erroneously identified greg's alma mater as uc berkeley rather than stanford and then wrongly assumed (based off of this mistake) that he must have begun his crime lab career in san francisco.

of course, in reality, uc berkeley is sara's alma mater, not greg's, so if we're going with the theory that greg originally worked at whatever crime lab was closest to where he studied, then it's more likely he began his career in santa clara county, affiliated with the palo alto pd.

—that is, if he began working in law enforcement in the same place he went to school at at all.

again, given that that forum post essentially seems to confuse greg's backstory with sara's, it's possible he didn't take a job in law enforcement immediately upon graduation at all; it was sara who did so (enrolling, per her old cbs character biographies, in a work-study program with the sfpd's coroner's office during her graduate studies at berkeley and then being hired as a csi by the sfpd immediately upon graduation with her master's degree).

now.

here's where things with greg get even murkier.

greg is far and away "the baby" of team graveyard, born in 1975, which makes him just 25 years old in s1.

over the years, i've seen many biographies for him which state that he, like both grissom and sara, was an early high school graduate who attended college young, which might make sense, given his tender years at the start of the show.

and, hell, i've thought along those lines for him myself, up until this point.

however.

given that one person's mistake on those old message boards seemingly resulted in the transposition of many of sara's biography points onto greg's (and the repetition of that mistake across numerous other csi sites thereafter), i can't help but wonder if maybe the idea that greg graduated high school early is similarly spurious.

—and particularly given that his biographical timeline works out just fine even without him have been an early admit to stanford.

it's not that i don't think greg is smart enough to have graduated high school early!

certainly, he has a genius intellect and is capable of thriving in academic environments.

it's just—

since the "graduated high school early" thing isn't show canon, and there is some evidence to suggest that story element never really belonged to him to begin with, i think there's reason to at least question that particular biographical note for him.

to that end:

let's say he began attending stanford at age eighteen in 1993, graduated with his bachelor's degree in chemistry in 1997, earned his master's degree by 1999, and then started working in las vegas immediately thereafter, during that same year.

that would mean he'd been on the job at the lvpd crime lab for about a year by the time s1 takes place, which fits.

in episode 05x09 "mea culpa," it is mentioned that greg was working dna at the lab back in 1999.

him being an early high school graduate would maybe have allowed him to gain some additional working experience (and perhaps have begun his career in palo alto); however, that addition is not necessary to make his character timeline scan.

in the late 90s, graduating as a top prospect (phi beta kappa from a stanford master's degree program) would have afforded him good enough credentials to be hired by the las vegas crime lab straight out of school, no additional experience required.

to me, that option makes good sense.

the only pieces of greg's known biography which don't fit this particular timeline: 1) that dumbass story greg tells in episode 01x06 "who are you?" about how he and his friends used to go to the french place to watch strippers on friday nights. not only could he never possibly have seen catherine dance there (considering she retired from the pole when he was all of ten years-old) but he almost certainly would have already known he couldn't have seen her dance there without having to ask her about it, as, no matter which biographical option we go with for him (early graduation vs. no), he has only been living in vegas for one to two years by the time s1 is taking place, and catherine has worked at the crime lab the whole time he has been there; 2) that weird story he tells grissom in episode 02x01 "burked" about having lived in new york. like. when did that supposedly happen? when he was a kid?

now.

as for the question of nick and warrick's friendship in s1, i personally do believe they are friends (and that any potentially "off vibes" between them at this time are just part and parcel of literally everyone being written slightly ooc to start out with).

yes, they jockey for position over the csi level iii promotion, but notice that when nick wins out, he actually tries to apologize to warrick because he knows brass manipulated things to give him the edge over him (see episode 01x01 "pilot")—indicating he does actually care about warrick's feelings.

while they do tease and heckle each other, that's just part of "jock" socialization.

your best buddie is your best buddie and you would do anything for him, but you are also going to try to beat his ass at basketball and break his mile-run record and trash talk him when you do so, because that's just fun, okay?

if you read between the lines of all the razzing, warrick and nick genuinely enjoy each other's company and choose to hang out with each other of their own volitions (like when they play video games together in the break room in episode 01x08 "anonymous"). they have a very familiar rapport, complete with inside jokes and set patterns of behavior (like betting on case outcomes).

though of course later on in the show—after they've been through more character development, known each other for longer, weathered several "i could have lost you! please don't ever leave me!" near-death experiences together, etc.—they grow even closer than they were to start out with, i do think the foundations of their friendship are already very much in place in s1.

those two guys love each other.

—they're just also ultra-competitive with each other and have a tendency to talk smack.

as for the greg of it all, though, he is very much "on the outside" with nick and warrick in the early seasons of the show, not only because he is stuck in the lab while they're out in the field but also because he doesn't know how to operate on that same "jock" frequency that they do.

there's a kind of aggressiveness and swagger baked into their brand of masculinity that he just doesn't have and can't even successfully imitate. he isn't part of that whole "snapping towels in the locker room" culture that they grew up in and he isn't exactly sure how it works.

while for the most part, their teasing of him is all "in good fun," you can tell there are times when they genuinely frazzle him (like in episode 03x10 "high and low"). you can also tell how desperate he sometimes is in seeking their approval, trying to win them over but not really knowing how to "run with the big dogs."

it's the quintessential "big brothers vs. little brother" dynamic.

to my mind, only when greg first ventures into the field in episode 02x18 "chasing the bus" does his relationship with warrick and nick really start to shift. once he shows that initiative, they start to take him a bit more seriously and, to their credits, when he officially makes the decision to transfer out of dna, they both take him under their wings and provide him with valuable mentorship (such as, for example, in episode 04x15 "early rollout").

by s5, it's clear they count him as an actual friend (making time to see him even after they are transferred to the swing shift while he remains on grave, as seen in episode 05x22 "weeping willows").

and while teasing him is still a part of their dynamic with him, it's now much more give-and-take, with him having found the confidence (and learned the "game") enough to keep up with them.

anyway.

your mileage may (and probably does!) vary, but those are my thoughts.

thanks for the questions! please feel welcome to send more any time.

#answered #anon #asks: csi #**#my meta: csi #meta: production #meta: nick #meta: warrick #meta: greg #csiverse #season one #let's talk shop

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thebreakfastgenie · 1 year ago

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☔️ :)

Thank you, anon! :D

I know I have talked about this before but I wanted to do it properly. It's a Sam/Josh West Wing AU. It's set a few years before the show, so mid 1990s.

Josh is a freshman congressman from Connecticut. He was a staffer in DC who went home for a while when his father got sick, and got invested in the local congressional race, which was a mess due to the planned Democratic candidate imploding in a scandal and the Republicans choosing a well-liked moderate. Obsessed with winning the race and unable to find a candidate, Josh ended up running himself and narrowly winning. Josh is also gay (normally I prefer bi Josh, but gay works better for this story and it's an AU) and deeply in the closet, although his family knows and are fine with it (he's a surviving sibling, after all). I haven't decided yet if his father is still alive at the time of the story. Josh also mentions later that he stopped working for Earl Brennan (someone he worked for before Hoynes in canon) because of homophobia, and it's implied the homophobia he encountered in DC may be part of the reason he went home to help his father out.

Sam is a gay rights activist/grassroots lobbyist with his own firm that consists of him and one other employee. Sam was a rising star lawyer in New York, close to making partner at Gage-Whitney. The partners knew he was gay and tolerated it, but weren't happy about his pro bono work representing people with AIDS that got him gradually more involved with activism. After being pressured to leave, he moved to DC for a fresh start, and started his firm. Sam is on good terms with Lisa, his ex-girlfriend who he broke up with when he realized he was gay, but they keep some distance because her coworkers are not very accepting and she wants to protect her career.

Working for Sam is Laurie, a woman putting herself through law school working as a call girl. Sam frequently laments not being able to pay her enough, but she's okay with it. She got involved in AIDS activism through sex work and then gay rights activism more generally.

Working for Josh is Donna, an assistant who is the most competent person in his congressional office and effectively running the place. He eventually figures this out and gives her a promotion.

Toward the beginning of the story, Josh's recent ex-girlfriend, PR executive Mandy, shows up at his apartment in DC looking for a place to stay. Josh suggests she's trying to make his colleague Lloyd Russell jealous and that she's wasting her time, but Mandy insists she just needs a place to crash. She tells Josh that unlike his other exes, she knows the real reason they broke up, and she'll help him look straight in exchange for a place to stay. Josh relents. Later, when Donna needs a place to stay after a bad breakup, Mandy convinces Josh to let her stay as well, arguing that nothing look straighter than an attractive young assistant sleeping over, and since neither of them are married it's a minor scandal at worst.

Sam is on a mission to pass a gay rights bill. I'm not sure exactly what it is yet; The West Wing is an alternate political universe, but I still want it to be realistic for the 90s, so I need to do some research, but I think it's some kind of anti-discrimination measure, maybe employment or housing discrimination. Sam is looking for members of congress to press for support, and realizes that Josh Lyman has a flawless voting record on gay rights, but never talks about them in public. Sam repeatedly goes to his office and Josh tries to duck his visits, but eventually lets him in. Sam makes a joke about "bringing you out of the closet" during his pitch and from Josh's reaction, he realizes that Josh is gay himself and that's why he's hesitant to talk about gay issues publicly. Sam eventually convinces him to help.

While working together, Sam and Josh begin to fall in love. They sleep together early on while working late, but the next day Sam apologizes and says he doesn't do casual relationships. Josh believes this means Sam isn't interested in pursuing a more serious relationship and is disappointed, but doesn't say anything because he doesn't want to jeopardize their good working relationship and friendship with unrequited feelings. The feelings are very much requited, but Sam didn't think Josh would want to pursue a relationship, partly because he's dumb and partly because he thinks Josh might have understandable concerns about a representative/lobbyist relationship. They work it out by the end but it's kind of a slow burn.

In their quest for co-sponsors, they encounter many characters from the show who were in congress. They get support from Andi Wyatt, and through her meet her husband, Toby. They also hear about the governor of New Hampshire signing a similar state level anti-discrimination law. We will also encounter reporters seen in the show, especially Danny who is friendly with Josh.

Josh eventually chooses to come out publicly, and also chooses not to run for another term in congress, having never wanted to be in the spotlight in the first place, and having now found a successor. They do successfully pass the bill, at least in the House. Its fate in the senate may remain unknown. Toby and Leo McGarry approach Josh about the campaign Jed Bartlet is putting together, and Josh decides to join them, then asks Sam to come to New Hampshire with him. I may have to throw in some third act romcom tension so I can get an AU version of the romcom moment in In the Shadow of Two Gunmen for the ending. Sam and Josh are together and planning to continue their work.

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artsycervidae · 7 months ago

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If your Demon Slayer Corp members were to encounter the Hashira that appear in the anime/manga, how to you think they would interact? Are there any that you can see becoming good friends or those that would have animosity with one another?

Rubs my hands together because ooooh boy I think about this sometimes. I'm gonna focus on the main four Slayers. If you have questions about more minor characters (like the Rengoku squad or Yuri) then please let me know!

Hinata is easily disliked by everyone: it's very rare that anyone likes them LOL. Not even their impressive knowledge and talent could save their reputation, and Hinata's desecration of dead bodies alone can't be forgiven just because they're a fellow demon hunter. If anyone has tolerance for Hinata's shallow-seeming personality, they'll definitely be put off by the abundant abandonment issues and constant preoccupation with demonology. Hinata would have a soft spot for Kyojuro, out of dutiful attachment, and might be drawn to Mitsuri because of their similar interests in flexible weaponry (her sword and their net/whip/prosthetic.) They would probably like to approach Shinobu one day, demonologist to pharmacist, but Shinobu would be especially cold toward them, given Hinata's habit of humanizing demons. (The only positive thing anyone has to say about Hinata is Tengen admitting that at least they get flashy and dramatic with it.)

Junko, meanwhile, would be the most popular-- though her fondness for Hinata would make her coworkers impatient and annoyed with her. She would probably have natural friction with Sanemi or Obenai, because they like to stir shit wherever possible (and we love them for it). I think Shinobu would be suspicious of Junko for keeping Hinata close at hand, as useful as they can be. But Junko is competent and powerful, and tends to keep Hinata from misbehaving, so I think the majority of them would have to at least respect her skill.

Nobutoshi, meanwhile, is OBSESSED with the political game. He would play nice no matter with who, and would keep his personal feelings about everyone far at hand when it comes to getting what he wants. I think he would probably give off Giyu-esque vibes, though, so he would be less popular than he would like. He would probably get along best with Obanai though, surprisingly-- they're of similar, suspicious minds, but Obanai has the gall to voice it. Nobutoshi would most likely back him up the most. He would also have MUCH respect and loyalty for Muichiro, who is of valuable descent and clearly mastered Mist Breathing to its fine details.

Tetsuya, meanwhile, respects authority figures across the board. He would probably have the most animosity towards Sanemi for his brutality and casual callousness, and he would be VERY jealous of Muichiro and compares himself to the other kid CONSTANTLY. I think he would love to get anyone's approval, and frequently receives validation from Mitsuri, Kyojuro, and Tengen.

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lolo3h · 1 year ago

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Splatoon OCs

Character bios and references for my Splatoon OCs. Images are from a Splatoon Picrew that can be found here

Taylor the Eggsecutive VP

Birthday - December 27

Height - 6'

Age - 28

Backstory - An Inkling who grew up in the suburbs of Inkopolis, she drifted through most of her childhood without much ambition. She was good at school and working for her family’s business was nice, but she never found anything that she was genuinely passionate about. When she was 14, her parents advised that she should move to Inkopolis in order to find herself and see if anything would interest her. Taylor tried many things, from competing in Ranked Battles to playing music and taking classes, but nothing quite stuck. Eventually, she ran low on cash and needed some way to make money. That’s how she found out about Grizzco and accepted a job from them. She didn’t think much of it at first, it was a decent job with some suspicious circumstances, but Taylor saw it as temporary like with all her other pursuits. As she worked more and became familiar with her coworkers, she and others shared tips amongst themselves. Taylor had fun with Salmon Run employing strategies shared by others and talking about her experiences. Taylor felt as if she was part of a community and was looking forward to working and discussing what she liked and disliked with others. She decided to move long term to Inkopolis and stay working Salmon Run Jobs.

Personality - A laid back Inkling who is responsible like an older sister. She’s also patient, able to tolerate change and adapt to the situation. However, she is indecisive and struggles with self motivation, mostly relying on others to make decisions and push her.

Likes - Fries, cooperation, scenic locations, comfy clothes, sharing good experiences

Dislikes - Lone wolves, working while tired, people getting upset over small things, loud noises, not having a purpose

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Matt the Profreshional

Birthday - August 10

Height - 5'4''

Age - 19

Background - He was born in the underground Octarian domes and went to military school from a young age, similar to most of his peers. He wanted became part of the Octarian army as a reserve soldier because he wasn't interested in engineering or any other war effort-related jobs. After the battle between Octavio and Agent 3 he saw many soldiers defecting and his siblings decided that they would leave with them as they though they would find more fun above ground. He and his siblings went to the Splatlands to settle down, where Matt has stayed ever since. He met Taylor after she moved to the Splatlands during a Salmon Run job and the two formed a fast friendship.

Personality - Cheerful and upbeat, Matt can get excitable over the things he likes. He loves to make others smile, either through his jokes or his cooking. He doesn’t take things too seriously and doesn’t get too upset when he or others fail, he just wants to have a good time.

Likes - Cook-outs, high scores, good teamwork, celebrations, making his friends laugh

Dislikes - Uncooperative people, close-mindedness, overpriced ingredients, arbitrary rules, letting his friends down

#splatoon #splatoon oc

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dot-cant-write · 2 years ago

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An Ice Skating Outing (Sammy Lawrence x Reader)

A little holiday oneshot for Christmas :)

It was the holiday season again in New York. And within one little animation studio, you and your best friends were planning your Friday night out.

You were a long-time employee of Joey Drew Studios who worked as a janitor. A simple job, but a nice one because you were able to interact with all different folks within the studio. Your best friends were none other than Wally Franks and Shawn Flynn. Wally Franks was the other janitor of the studio, unfortunately tasked with cleaning up everyone’s messes (sometimes even your own, though you loathe to admit it). Shawn Flynn was a young Irish immigrant trying to make his mark in the studio. How he was going to do that with all those crooked-smiling Bendy dolls he made, you had no idea.

The three of you gathered in Heavenly Toys, discussing your plans for the holiday season. Wally brought up walking down to Rockefeller Center to ice skate and look at the classic Christmas tree after work. It was a tradition of yours, even though none of you could ice skate to save your lives. Despite this, you and Shawn excitedly agreed to this idea. Tomorrow, the three of you would have a rockin’ time around the giant Christmas tree.

------------------------------------------------

It was Friday morning, and you were helping Wally clean around the studio. It was your turn to clean the Storyboard and Music Departments. You had just finished up in Story, and as you waved goodbye to a fellow coworker, Dot, you made your way down the hall towards the music studio.

First, you made your way upstairs to Norman Polk in the projection booth. Truth be told, he never made much of a mess, but he did made good conversation. It was also just fun to watch the band perform. You and he had spent many days up in the projection booth discussing Sammy Lawrence. While Norman found Sammy strange, you found the composer fascinating. He was far from the usual cheery or simply tired employees often found in the studio. Sammy Lawrence was cranky and often pessimistic, but it was almost refreshing in a sense. Wally and Shawn, of course, weren’t glass-half-empty folks.

Today, they were recording a special holiday edition of Bendy the Dancing Demon. The music sounded beautiful, as always. It certainly helped that the music director was the one and only Sammy Lawrence. Pessimistic he may be, but Sammy knew music.

You still remember the first time you’d met. You’d been chatting with Jack Fain, the lyricist of the Music Department, during his break. (You refused to visit him otherwise- he worked down in the sewers, and it was far too stinky there.) Most of the time you tried to avoid the Music Department, thanks to Wally’s horror stories of the director. Wally forgot to mention he often got himself into trouble when he misplaced his keys, which usually led to him getting scolded by Sammy. Of course, on that particular day, yet another pipe burst while you finally had a chance to catch up with Jack. The recording room had begun to flood as a result. You and Jack had rescued as much sheet music as you could, and even a few instruments before the ink ruined the studio. You had saved as much as you could, though. Thankfully, it was more than enough to make a positive impression on the music director when he returned. Sammy Lawrence had a look of utter horror on his face as he made he way back from his break (back when breaks actually happened at the studio). You watched as Jack explained what had happened to the composer. When he told Sammy how you and him had rescued the sheet music, Sammy sighed with relief. You gently handed him the pile of music, and he simply said “At least one of these janitors is competent.”

Since then, you’d been less afraid of the Music Department. In fact, Sammy Lawrence tolerated you, which is more than most can say. Thanks to Jack and to your rescue mission, Sammy had allowed you to hang around. He’d been borderline friendly, which is about as good as you can get when it comes to Sammy Lawrence. The more you spent time with him, though, the more you developed feelings for the director. He was, after all, a handsome man. He had longer blond hair that often fell into cold blue eyes, and despite an icy exterior, something about him attracted you. Especially since he wasn’t so frosty around you anymore. While he didn’t exactly appreciate your outgoing friends, he all but admitted to enjoying your company.

Unfortunately, the composer looked especially stressed today. Probably another deadline due. You frowned. Maybe he needed a pick-me-up. That’s when a lightbulb appeared over your head. Maybe you could be the pick-me-up.

———————————————————————

“I’m going to invite Sammy Lawrence to join us tonight.” You announced over lunch.

“Are you kidding? You wanna invite mister grouch? The ultimate Scrooge?” Wally asked, flabbergasted at your suggestion.

“Consider the consequences! Ol’ Sammy is too much of a party pooper.” Shawn chimes in. Always has to get his two cents in.

“Oh c’mon, guys. Sammy can’t be that bad. Besides, I bet he’s lonely. It wouldn’t hurt to ask him to join us!” You defended, taking a bite of your sandwich.

Shawn waggled his eyebrows playfully. “(Y/N) just wants to go sweet on him, Wally.”

And that’s what you get for mentioning that the composer was cute to your friends one time.

Your face heated up. “Shawn, shut it. That’s not what this is about, I just think it’d be fun-“

“You can invite him, (Y/N), we’re just horsin’ around. But I’m bringin’ mistletoe!” Wally teased.

You stuck your tongue out at Shawn and Wally and made your way to the Music Department once more. It was lunch break for most, but if you knew anything about Sammy Lawrence, it was that he didn’t really take breaks. Not anymore, anyway. He was always somewhere in the Music Department, writing the next piece of music or meeting some deadline or another. Not to mention there was always the threat of a pipe bursting nowadays. Sure enough, Sammy was sitting on a stool by his music stand, scribbling into a black notebook.

You hesitated. “Um, hi, Sammy.”

The composer glanced in your direction, then went back to writing. “Hello. Do you need something?”

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to come with Shawn, Wally and me to Rockefeller Center tonight? We were gonna go see the tree and ice skate.”

“No thanks. Deadline to meet.”

You frowned. “Oh, okay. Are you sure? Maybe you could use a break.”

“Deadline to meet.” Sammy repeated.

“Okay. I’ll let you get back to song writing then. Sorry to bother you.” With that, you turned away to rejoin your friends, thoroughly disappointed.

———————————————————————

Sammy Lawrence felt guilty. He wasn’t used to that feeling, save for the guiltiness of disappointing Joey Drew. Honestly, a nice stroll in the cold sounded pleasant. But Shawn and Wally weren’t exactly his crowd, and he did have a deadline to meet, even if he enjoyed (Y/N)’s company. Sammy pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He took a long drag, and slowly blew out the smoke.

“If I can finish this song…” he told himself.

———————————————————————

At the end of the day, you met once more with Shawn and Wally. The three of you clocked out (Wally praying for no more messes) and were grabbing your coats. As you wrapped your scarf around your neck, you heard a smooth voice come from behind you.

“Is that offer still open?” Sammy Lawrence asked quietly.

You whipped around to face him, ignoring an open-mouthed Shawn and a smirking Wally.

“Yeah, of course. Didn’t you have a deadline to meet, though?”

Sammy slipped on his coat. “Finished. And it’s goddamn Christmas. Might as well enjoy the season,” he pulled out a cigarette to light.

Wally clapped Sammy on the back, earning a scowl in return as he nearly dropped his lighter. “That’s what I’m sayin’! Now let’s get outta here!”

Together, the four of you left the studio. You noticed that Sammy Lawrence kept rather quiet during the walk. He seemed to be breathing in the cold. If he wasn’t taking a drag, that is.

“So, Sammy, you ever been ice skating before?” Shawn asked, pulling his hat lower over his ears.

“Used to on nights after Jack and I got out from the theatre. He’d drag me along before I had to drift for the night.”

“Are you any good then? The three of us are god-awful on the ice.” You chimed in, earning a “Hey!” from Wally and Shawn.

Sammy simply shrugged. “Not sure. Don’t do it anymore.”

“Well, we’re about to find out, music man.” Wally announced as your group arrived at Rockefeller. It was quite crowded out, but New York was always lively.

The tree was jaw-dropping. It didn’t matter how many times you had seen it over the years; every time was like the first time. The tree was lit up gorgeously this year, ornaments climbing its massive branches. Even Sammy paused to take in its magnificence.

“Wow,” breathed out Shawn. “Never gets old, does it?”

“Nope. Gotta be the best part of the season,” Wally replied.

Slowly, the four of you broke your gaze from the tree and made your way to the entrance of the ice rink, where tickets were being sold to skate. The four of your purchased your tickets and went to change into the skates. Wally and Shawn passed you a pair of skates, then winked at you. The pair disappeared into the crowd. That left you and Sammy alone on a bench as you laced up your ice skates. Of course. You should’ve known they would pull a stunt like that.

“Where’d they go?” Sammy asked as he laced his own pair of skates.

“Don’t mind them, they’re just being a couple of twits.”

Sammy chuckled. “Don’t have to tell me twice. Shall we?” He asked, standing wobbly and offering you his hand. You took it, and together you somehow made it onto the ice. Not without you practically tripping over the ledge to the rink, though. Sammy caught you.

“Thanks. Usually that’s the part where I’d fall on my behind and Wally and Shawn laugh,” you admittedly sheepishly as you tried to regain your balance.

“It’s fine. Don’t know why you insist on skating then, though.”

“Because it’s fun! It doesn’t matter how many times you fall, because we always laugh and help each other back up… eventually.” You smile at him and start to let go of his hand in favor of gripping the rail. Instead, Sammy held your hand a little tighter. You looked up at him, confused, but he refused to meet your eye. Blushing faintly, you started to skate with him.

The weather was absolutely perfect tonight. The lights on the tree at Rockefeller Center shone brilliantly in the New York night. There was a light breeze that ruffled your hair, and Jack Frost nipped at your nose. Despite the cold weather, though, you felt warm next to Sammy. You looked up at him, only to realize that it had begun to snow. Tiny snowflakes sprinkled down and landed in Sammy’s dirty blond hair. You also couldn’t help but notice how surprisingly graceful the music director was on the ice. Maybe it was his tall and lanky stature, but he seemed to have no problem gliding along the rink.

“Is there something on my face?”

Sammy’s question startled you into reality. A heat spread over your cheeks as you looked away. “Er, no, I just… got distracted.”

The composer gave a rare smile in response. “Mhm. I’m sure.” He still hadn’t let go of your hand.

“Y’know, I’m really happy you were able to make it tonight.”

“Yeah well, just don’t tell Joey.”

“Mr. Drew won’t hear a word from me,” you assured him.

——————————————————————————————

You were just starting to get a handle on the rhythm of skating when Wally and Shawn skated around.

“Hey lovebirds!” Shawn chided.

“How’s skatin’?” Wally asked.

You gave a death glare to Shawn before quickly letting go of Sammy’s hand. “It’s going good. How’re you two holdin’ up? Bet you fell on your asses already.”

“We did!” Wally laughed. “All in good fun, I think.”

You nodded and smiled before Wally and Shawn took off again. “Gettin’ off the ice in fifteen!” Shawn hollered.

“Okay!” You shouted back. As soon as your friends were out of sight, you reached for Sammy’s hand again. He looked at you quizzically.

“So I don’t fall like a complete fool,” you explained. Definitely not because your hand was left cold without his. Definitely not because you simply wanted to hold his hand and ice skate and pretend that you were getting your happily ever after. Sammy Lawrence looked down at your hand in his, then back up at you. His lips upturned just slightly. You continued to ice skate.

“So… Why don’t you like Christmas?” You asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

“It’s just… It gets busy. At the studio. And everyone is so annoyingly cheery. I’m not really happy, so why should everyone else be?” He sighed, before adding “I don’t really have any family to go to anyway. Jack always invites me over, but I don’t wanna be a burden.”

This was the most honest you'd ever heard him be with you. It was refreshing. You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I’d bet Jack would love to have you. Anyone would. You don’t have to be such a Scrooge. Perhaps a little Christmas cheer is just what you need.”

Sammy chuckled in response. “Perhaps.” The two of you slipped back into the comfortable silence. Before you knew it, fifteen minutes had passed and it was time to find Shawn and Wally. That wasn’t exactly hard to do. The two of them were currently trying to make their way to the rink’s exit, and failing at it. You and Sammy made it to the bench long before they did. Finally, Shawn sat down next to you, and Wally nearly tripped onto the pavement.

“Why do we do that every year again?” Asked Wally, tugging off his skates.

“You tell me,” you replied, grinning.

“Touche,” Wally shrugged.

Once the four of you had changed out of your ice skates, you split the scene. This was usually the part where you and your friends would head home. You all exchanged glances.

“Well, I had a lotta fun, even if I landed on my rump more times than I can count. But it’s time to head home. I’m outta here!” Wally waved to you all and started his journey home.

Shawn nodded. “Same here. Got to get some rest. Night!”

And then there were two. You looked up at Sammy. “Well… I suppose I should be getting home, too.”

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Sammy asked suddenly.

You were taken aback by his question. “I- That would be lovely, actually. Thank you.”

—————————————————

The walk wasn’t too long, but it was certainly cold. You knew you should’ve brought a heavier jacket. One particular gust of wind sent a shiver down your spine. Without a word, Sammy shrugged off his coat and draped it around your shoulders. He seemed completely unfazed by the weather.

“Thanks.” You smiled gratefully at him, tugging the coat tighter around your shoulders. It smelled like cologne, ink, and cigarette smoke. Somehow, the combination was pleasant. Or maybe it was just what those smells represented. You walked closer to the composer, feeling warmth radiate from him. Soon, you made it to your door.

“Thank you again for walking me home. And for your coat,” you said, handing it back to him.

“Thanks for good company,” he replied as he slipped his coat back on. He said it genuinely and sincerely.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You asked.

“You know where to find me.” Sammy turned to leave, and you faced your door. But…

“Sammy, look at this!” You pointed upward at the overhang above your door. The composer faced you, and tilted his head as he glanced upwards.

“Mistletoe,” you both said. You laughed lightly. Wally and Shawn strike again. You didn’t know how, but you knew it was them.

“You know the rules, Sammy,” you continued, taking a step towards him. The music director looked at you, a deep blush spreading across his features. He looked positively flustered. Standing on your tip toes, you planted a kiss on Sammy Lawrence’s cheek. His eyes widened and he lifted his hand to gingerly touch the spot where you’d kissed him. Gosh, you wish you could take a picture of that moment.

“Merry Christmas, Sammy.” And with that, you left the flustered composer on your doorstep.

You couldn’t wait to tell Wally and Shawn.

#i just had to write something christmas-y #working on another holiday oneshot too actually #sammy lawrence x reader #sammy lawrence #batim #bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #batdr

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