#then i had to call and ask if they were even HIRING

[pfaugh]

From "They Thought They Were Free" by Milton Mayer (1966)

A chemical engineer by profession, he was a man of whom, before I knew him, I had been told, “He is one of those rare birds among Germans—a European.” One day, when we had become very friendly, I said to him, “Tell me now—how was the world lost?”

“That,” he said, “is easy to tell, much easier than you may suppose. The world was lost one day in 1935, here in Germany. It was I who lost it, and I will tell you how.

“I was employed in a defense plant (a war plant, of course, but they were always called defense plants). That was the year of the National Defense Law, the law of ‘total conscription.’ Under the law I was required to take the oath of fidelity. I said I would not; I opposed it in conscience. I was given twenty-four hours to ‘think it over.’ In those twenty-four hours I lost the world.”

“Yes?” I said.

“You see, refusal would have meant the loss of my job, of course, not prison or anything like that. (Later on, the penalty was worse, but this was only 1935.) But losing my job would have meant that I could not get another. Wherever I went I should be asked why I left the job I had, and, when I said why, I should certainly have been refused employment. Nobody would hire a ‘Bolshevik.’ Of course I was not a Bolshevik, but you understand what I mean.”

“Yes,” I said.

“I tried not to think of myself or my family. We might have got out of the country, in any case, and I could have got a job in industry or education somewhere else.

“What I tried to think of was the people to whom I might be of some help later on, if things got worse (as I believed they would). I had a wide friendship in scientific and academic circles, including many Jews, and ‘Aryans,’ too, who might be in trouble. If I took the oath and held my job, I might be of help, somehow, as things went on. If I refused to take the oath, I would certainly be useless to my friends, even if I remained in the country. I myself would be in their situation.

“The next day, after ‘thinking it over,’ I said I would take the oath with the mental reservation that, by the words with which the oath began, ‘Ich schwöre bei Gott, I swear by God,’ I understood that no human being and no government had the right to override my conscience. My mental reservations did not interest the official who administered the oath. He said, ‘Do you take the oath?’ and I took it. That day the world was lost, and it was I who lost it”

That feels like a good, self-contained thing. But if I haven't lost you yet, there's some more afterwards that I think is about as relevant.

“Do I understand,” I said, “that you think that you should not have taken the oath?”

“Yes.”

“But,” I said, “you did save many lives later on. You were of greater use to your friends than you ever dreamed you might be.” (My friend’s apartment was, until his arrest and imprisonment in 1943, a hideout for fugitives.

...

“Of course I must explain. First of all, there is the problem of the lesser evil. Taking the oath was not so evil as being unable to help my friends later on would have been. But the evil of the oath was certain and immediate, and the helping of my friends was in the future and therefore uncertain. I had to commit a positive evil, there and then, in the hope of a possible good later on. The good outweighed the evil; but the good was only a hope, the evil a fact.”

“But,” I said, “the hope was realized. You were able to help your friends.”

“Yes,” he said, “but you must concede that the hope might not have been realized—either for reasons beyond my control or because I became afraid later on or even because I was afraid all the time and was simply fooling myself when I took the oath in the first place.

...

Shall we say, just to be safe, that three million innocent people were killed all together?”

I nodded.

“And how many innocent lives would you like to say I saved?”

“You would know better than I,” I said.

“Well,” said he, “perhaps five, or ten, one doesn’t know. But shall we say a hundred, or a thousand, just to be safe?”

I nodded.

“And it would be better to have saved all three million, instead of only a hundred, or a thousand?” “Of course.” “There, then, is my point. If I had refused to take the oath of fidelity, I would have saved all three million.”

..

“I don’t understand.”

“You are an American,” he said again, smiling. “I will explain. There I was, in 1935, a perfect example of the kind of person who, with all his advantages in birth, in education, and in position, rules (or might easily rule) in any country. If I had refused to take the oath in 1935, it would have meant that thousands and thousands like me, all over Germany, were refusing to take it. Their refusal would have heartened millions. Thus the regime would have been overthrown, or, indeed, would never have come to power in the first place. The fact that I was not prepared to resist, in 1935, meant that all the thousands, hundreds of thousands, like me in Germany were also unprepared, and each one of these hundreds of thousands was, like me, a man of great influence or of great potential influence. Thus the world was lost.”

[spiderb00]

FAM OUT HEADCANONS

The beginning

Dream Academy brought a lot of good things to Sophia, success, the Kats, the Eyekons and of course, you.   

you and Sophia met accidentally, your father was one of the camera operators, and Sophia always saw you backstage. She had thought you were beautiful, but she didn't have the courage, or the time, to stop and start a conversation with you. 

Weeks later, you were hired by the team on your father's recommendation (nepotism, Yunjin’s voice), they hired you for all kinds of work. So it was official, you had your first job as a handyman. You were called especially to fix things that the girls had damaged, and when Sophia found out about it, this girl went crazy.   

Sophia was very focused, she had good reviews, so she thought "Why not give me the luxury and have time with the kitten who works behind the scenes?" 

The sink in the room where Sophia was, magically appeared broken the next day, coincidence, right? The girl was scared to death of being caught, but, oh man, how it was worth it. 

When you came to fix it, Sophia made sure to open the door, show you where the faulty sink was, and keep you company throughout the repair. You talked about everything, and quickly grew closer. 

Sophia could tell you were her safe haven, the breath of air she needed every day, talking to you was magical, and Sophia loved every moment of it.   

Your first date was not called a "first date," at least not for others. You and Sophia knew it was a date, but you preferred to keep it a secret, so as not to threaten your jobs 

So imagine the relief you felt, sitting in the audience, hearing the name of Sophia, your girlfriend, being announced as the member of Hybe's new group, Katseye.

The reaction of the Kats

You two were not as discreet as you thought. The Kats always noticed how Sophia went out to mysterious places, with "friends" that none of the girls had the chance to meet.   

And it wasn't so discreet when Lara saw your face covered in lipstick marks stamped on the wallpaper of Sophia's cell phone.   

The girls had nothing against you, on the contrary, they thought you were very cool, and as long as you were treating Sophia well, everything would be in its proper place.   

When Sophia officially introduced you to the Kats, they asked thousands of questions; "How old are you?", "How long has this been happening?", "What are your intentions with our Sophia?"  

You answered all the questions calmly, I mean, those girls were very important to Sophia, and Sophia was very important to those girls, you would answer as many questions as they wanted.   

Despite all the noise and interrogation, you noticed that one of those girls was very quiet. Yoonchae. 

When you first spoke to the girl, you could notice how she was struggling with her pronunciation, and when she said she was Korean, your brain raced.   

You had learned a few words in Korean a few years ago. You couldn't say you were fluent, but you had a good grasp of the language.  

You swear you'll never forget the smile the girl gave you when you spoke in Korean to her.   

meeting her family 

Getting through the Kats' approval was harder than going through Sophia's parents' approval.   

In fact, they didn't even question it, Sophia's family was extremely receptive, and of course the Filipino girl had talked about you before. So when you arrived you were greeted with friendly hugs from everyone. 

Sophia's family was like your second family, you adored them as much as Sophia. So when Sophia went to visit her parents, she always took you along.   

You cooked with her mother, fixed things Sophia's dad asked you to do (he always said it was so you would remember the old days at Dream Academy), and spent time with her brother.   

At the end of the day, Sophia was fighting to get your attention, but she knows she wouldn't trade it for anything.   

my first headcanon ofc, well, I'm very happy that you guys are enjoying "Fam Out". feel free to send things, I love to see your ideas <3

(request)

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Hi I really love your writing! Not sure if you are taking any prompts, no worries if not!

I was wondering if you could something with Melissa x reader similar to Janine and Gregory where they both work at the school and maybe the reader is dating someone but they have a moment like the club scene or PECSA weekend.

Hope you're having a good day lovely human!

Not dead! Nor have I given up on writing or filling the prompts I still have to fill! But a weird thing did happen - I went to a hypnotist show with friends thinking I wouldn't be affected... Long story short, I remember the first fifteen minutes of the show. Apparently, I was in the show for the rest of it. So that was a thing. But that's not the weird thing. The hypnotist said that a side effect of his hypnosis is often a better ability to focus, a quieter mind and less anxious thoughts. I have to hand it to the man, his words seem to be true. An unexpected side effect of this for me though is that it turns out the noise and chatter in my mind actually helps me write my fics. Now it's all a bit quiet in there and it's been hard to get the words out. But, that doesn't mean I don't still love writing - so we're pushing through.

I do have a confession though - this story has two prompts noted at the top of it in my drafts and although I can't find any evidence that I've posted it under either prompt, if I have already posted this and somehow have missed it, please let me know and I shall take the duplicate down.

Anyway, enough about me. Enough rambling. I hope you enjoy!

*~*

It would be easier if she wasn’t nice to you. 

If she wasn’t nice to you, she could just be the untouchable, hot as hell, fiery goddess you admired from afar. 

But no.  She let you sit with her and Barb at lunch.  She even brought you lunch after a few conversations had strayed into discussing cooking and favourite recipes during said lunch breaks.

How were you meant to get over your ridiculous crush when she actually gave you the time of day?  When she smiled like that?  When her whole face lit up and she gestured so animatedly when she got caught up talking about something?

And as if that wasn’t enough, how were you ever meant to recover after seeing her so soft with her students?  Going out of her way to open up to them and help them. 

It was ridiculous, though.  You knew that.  What good was ever going to come of it? 

Kid.  That’s what she calls you.  It’s a constant reminder of the age gap between you.  Of the chasm that you feel you can’t even begin to cross when she sees you as some eager little kid.

You’ve always had a thing for older women.  From those early, confused days of watching your on-screen idols, to realising you didn’t want to be them.  You didn’t want to be friends with them.  You just wanted them. 

You want one in particular, but as you look across at her, her red hair ablaze in the sunshine, you force those feelings down once more.  If friendship is what she’s offering you’re not about to beat her with that olive branch.  You’ll deem yourself lucky and move on.

Even if she has ruined you for anyone else. 

*~*

“You know,” drawled Barbara.  “It’s beginning to become a habit.”

“What is?” asked Melissa, turning to face her friend with a frown. 

“Staring at her,” said the older woman, eyebrow raised. 

The red head scoffs.  “As if.  I don’t know what you think you’re seeing but that ain’t it.”

*

It was all said in jest to begin with.  Gentle teasing about a few wayward glances.  That was until Barb started to see her best friend be genuinely nice to you. 

To begin with, she tolerated you.  You weren’t one of the eager little puppies she so often saw when it came to younger new hires.  That much was evident from the start.  You were an old soul.  You carried a different energy. 

One that Melissa apparently appreciated just as much as the view.  Barb stood beside her the red head as they watched over the kids leaving school, keeping an eye on the them as they left for the day, making their way to busses, rides or parents.  Or rather, Barb was keeping watch over the children.  A quick glance at Melissa confirmed that her attention was directed at you where you stood a little way off, chatting happily with a young girl about the book she was waving at you as she waited for her mother to collect her. 

“Girl…”

“Don’t,” sighed Melissa, crossing her arms across her chest. 

That took Barb by surprise.  She had expected the red head to deny it.  “You mean?”

“It’s stupid.  She’s some pretty young thing and I’m…older than I care to admit.”

Turning to look at her friend, her expression sad, the older woman reached out and placed a comforting hand on the other woman’s arm.  “And?  What’s it called?  A Spring, Winter romance?”

“May, December,” corrected Melissa automatically.  “But same thing.”

“Exactly” said Barb.  “There’s a name for it and everything.  It’s a thing.”

“It’s not a thing,” huffed the red head, turning on her heel and heading back into the building.  “It’s stupid and I’ll get over it, just like I do everything else in my life.”

*~*

You’re not sure you’re entirely on board for PECSA. 

Out of school, things are different.  Lines are blurred and you’re seeing a whole different side to your colleagues.  You’re not sure if it’s liberating or terrifying.  And that’s before you add in the factor of the other teachers who have also been set free from the constraints of the classroom and are now loose in the wild.

You’re sure your confusion must show on your face, particularly when at the end of one of the breakout sessions you find yourself caught up in conversation with a striking older woman who teaches at another school across town.

You don’t see Melissa at first, who watches the interaction with interest.  She’s not used to seeing you outside of school, and it takes her back to realise that the woman is flirting with you.  Openly and blatantly flirting with you.  She’s touching your arm, leaning into you.  Smiling and laughing. 

In return, you know you’re blushing something terrible, especially when the woman hands you a page from her notebook with her number scrawled across it.  Watching the woman walk away, throwing you a smile over her shoulder to you, you finally see the red head standing in the doorway where she said she’d meet you so you could head for lunch together.

“She not a bit old for you?” she asks as you approach, your blush still heating your cheeks.

You frown.  “If she looks like that and thinks I’m hot enough to give me her number, they’re the numbers I’m interested in,” you reply, heading in the direction of the lunch buffet. 

Barb overhears the comment, unable not to smirk at your flash of sass.  “Jealous?” she asks, leaning into the red head’s space. 

“Of what?” barks Melissa, crossing her arms across her chest as she watches you go.  “Oh leave off!” she snarks at the older woman’s raised eyebrow.

*

How the day has gone from serious talks and breakout sessions to cocktails by the pool you’re still trying to wrap your head around.  Adjusting your cover up, you head around the side of the pool, heading for the bar.  You hope the day starts to feel a little bit more normal with a drink in your hand. 

Gazing out over the water, you catch sight of Melissa.  Or rather, you catch sight of a lot more of Melissa than you’ve ever had the privilege of seeing before.  Not looking where you’re walking as your eyes drink in the magnificent view there’s no saving yourself as you step forward and your foot finds water instead of concrete.

“Is that?” Melissa asks incredulously at the dramatic splash that comes from the other side of the pool.  She’s up out of her lounger before Barb can comment and the older teacher can only watch on in amusement as the red head storms off in your direction. 

You pull yourself out of the pool, allowing yourself to perch on the edge as you try your best to ignore the chuckles of those around you who have noticed your mishap. 

“What the fuck happened?”

You look up and of course Melissa is there.  Right there, lit up in the sun like an angel, red hair haloed around her head.  It takes a moment to realise that her eyes are roving over you, and not just your face.  You glance down where your cover up now clings to your skin, almost see through. 

Looking up you see Melissa blink rapidly a few times before offering you a hand.  You reach for her, smiling as she helps pull you to your feet.  “Thanks,” you smile sheepishly.  “I guess I should go change.”

“It’s a pool, you’re allowed to be a little wet,” the red head smirks back at you.  “Besides, we’re this close to the bar now, be rude not to take advantage.”

*

Melissa appears at the bar next to you with a huff, grumbling under her breath.  Her attention is focused on trying to get the attention of the barman.  Mumbling though she is, she’s speaking just loud enough for you to make out what she was saying. 

“He was an ass,” you tell her, watching as her head whipped around, finally realising you were there. 

“What?” she asks with a frown, already tipsy. 

“Your ex,” you enlighten her.  You may not have heard the comment that led to her current dip in mood, or ever have met the man, but you know enough.

Her frown only deepens.  “You don’t know a thing about him.”

“I know he didn’t appreciate what he had and left you,” you offer, ordering a drink when the barman appears in front of you, before turning back to Melissa to ask what she wants.  You find her looking at you oddly, her expression unreadable.  She quickly snaps out of it and barks and order at the bartender.

*

Barb has had more than a few drinks, it would appear as she flags you down to sit with her as you pass her table. 

“Sit, sit,” she smiles, trying to reach for your arm and push the chair out next to her at the same time in an uncoordinated matter. 

Catching her hands, you still her as you slide into the seat beside her to placate her.  Her gaze is a little unfocused, her words edging towards slurred.  You hadn’t quite realised how drunk she was, but then again, looking around the room, it would have been more of a surprise for her to be sober. 

“Don’t call that woman,” she tells you, leaning into your space.

“What woman?” you frown.

“That woman who gave you her number,” says Barbara like it’s obvious. 

You try not to think about the fact that for Barb to know, Melissa must have mentioned it.  That it’s been on her mind enough to mention it to the older woman.  “Why not?”

“She wouldn’t like it.”

“She gave me her number,” you point out.  “I don’t think she would mind.”

Barb shakes her head.  “Not her.  Her,” she says, nodding across the room to where Melissa is standing. 

You cross your arms across your chest.  “What has Melissa got to do with anything?”

Barb raises a single eyebrow, the action still smooth and effective despite her drunkenness and it makes you blush. 

Averting your gaze, you shake your head.  “It doesn’t matter what I feel,” you sigh.  “She’s not…She thinks I’m some stupid kid.”

What you don’t see, is Melissa standing close enough behind your chair to catch your words.

*

Somewhere after speaking to Barb you decide that trying to be the sober parent of your little Abbott family just isn’t working.  You’ve lost track of most of them, and honestly, you’ve given up trying to find them.  They’re all adults and can fend for themselves.

You still have eyes on Barb and Melissa though, the former dancing up a storm and the latter apparently winning an ill-advised drinking competition. 

Not that you can judge, of course.  You know you’ve drunk more than you should, feeling pleasantly buzzed from your seat in the corner of the bar.  You should call it a night before you do something you’ll regret, like call the woman Barbara told you not to.  Sober, you wouldn’t.  Drunk, you’re flattered enough and wouldn’t say no to the company. 

With a sigh, you push yourself up out of your seat and head towards the elevators.  Pushing the button, you watch the numbers light up as the lift descends.  You squeak in surprise when a strong pair of hands land on your hips, turning you around as a plump pair of lips meet you own.

“I don’t think you’re some stupid kid.”

You blink slowly a few times, taking in the woman before you.  Melissa.  Melissa Schemmenti just kissed you.  You shouldn’t, but you don’t have it in you to deny yourself the pleasure of feeling her lips against yours once more.  You kiss her back with enthusiasm, not protesting when she backs you into the elevator as it opens and moaning as your back hits the wall of the small metallic box, the weight of Melissa pressed against you. 

You’ve always admired her curves.  Pressed against you they’re a dream. 

The clearing of a throat far to close snaps you out of your living dream and you feel Melissa take a step back, biting her lip as she guiltily throws a glance over her shoulder, registering Barb standing in the elevator, her back to you both as if she hasn’t just witnessed exactly what you were both doing. 

Standing close, you grin at the devious smirk being aimed your way by a certain red head.  There’s a dangerous glimmer of mischief in her eyes.  Smudged lipstick and mussed hair from where you hands couldn’t help but run thought it complete the look.  The woman is a work of art. 

You look up as the elevator doors chime open, realising this is your floor.  Stepping forward, you slip past Barb, who merely raises an eyebrow.  You throw a look back at Melissa, who sways forward as though to follow you, before hesitating. 

The doors slide shut, and honestly, it’s probably for the best.

You miss the dark chuckle Barb lets out as the lift begins to ascend once more.

“What you laughing at?” asks Melissa, scowling.  She’s annoyed with herself for hesitating.  She knows what she wants, and she just let it walk out of the elevator.

“You two think you’re subtle?” the older woman drawls.  “She has more of your lipstick on than you do.”

*

If PECSA was party central the night before, it was hangover central the morning after.  You’re sitting outside on the low wall, sunglasses firmly in place, your phone in one hand and a bottle of water in the other as you take in the cool morning air. 

“You regret what happened last night?”

You turn to see Melissa, similarly attired.  “What?”

She comes to stand beside the wall on which you’re sat, her gaze wandering anywhere but you as she speaks.  “I came to your room last night.  You didn’t answer.”

“I didn’t hear you,” you admit, watching as her head whips around.  “Too busy throwing up everything I ever drank.”  You feel the blush dusting your cheeks, but continue.  This feels too important to let a little embarrassment stop you.  You take off your sunglasses so she can see your face as you speak,  “I have many regrets about my choices last night, but what happened in the elevator isn’t one of them.”

A slow smile spreads across her lips as she shifts to take a seat next to you.  She slips her own sunglasses off, finally letting you see her eyes.  “Good to know,” she murmurs.  “Me neither.”

You can’t help but smile at that.  You notice her gaze wandering and realise she staring at the phone still clutched in your hand. 

“You planning on using that number you were so interested in yesterday?”

“Honestly?” you ask, seeing the uncertainty in her face as she nods regardless.  “That woman was hot, and while I was more than a little flattered she gave me her number…she isn’t a patch on you.”

Pale cheeks blush adorably pink at your words.  Melissa isn’t used to hearing things like what from you.

“Don’t look so surprised,” you scoff, nudging her shoulder.  “You’ve seen yourself in a mirror, right?  And you needn’t think I go falling in pools over every pretty woman I see.”

“I really distracted you that badly, huh?” she asks, a little of her confidence returning.

You bump her shoulder with yours once more.  “Shut up.”

A gentle hand moves to cup your cheek, turning you to face her as Melissa presses a gentle kiss to your lips.  “For the record,” she says quietly.  “I don’t think you’re some stupid little kid.  I think you’re beautiful.”

You take in a shuddering breath.  It all feels too good to be true.  “What happens at PECSA stays at PECSA?” you ask sadly.

“I’ve never been one for playing by the rules,” she smirks back at you, pressing another quick kiss to your lips before pushing herself to her feet and offering a hand to you.  “Come on, we gotta go find Barb.  Reunite her with her shoes, sobriety and sanity.”

You take the hand being offered like a lifeline, grinning as Melissa starts walking, swinging your joined hands between you.  It’s only as you pass through the front doors to the building that her words even register.  “Wait?  Her shoes?”

[ladysarai]

Fun, true story. Growing up, all I ever wanted to be was a teacher. And I knew that teachers could not have "fun" hair colors. So I never, ever did anything more than the "normal" blonde highlights in my brown hair. Then even when I wasn't able to get a teaching job and had to switch careers (it was the 2008 recession and aftermath, no one was hiring new teachers), I went to work in healthcare--and there were Rules about hair colors, so I still did not do anything fun.

Fast forward to 2021. I got a promotion and started being able to work from home. In 2022, I thought.... Well, we're not going back to the office any time soon. I'm almost 40. I can do What I Want, FINALLY?? SO I DID. And I have kept up what I call my Unicorn Rainbow hair Ever Since.

And you know what? I have never, in my entire time on this planet, EVER received as many compliments on anything as I do on my hair. Even when I go out and it's a Bad Hair Day, or it needs a wash and is a little greasy--someone will still stop and compliment me.

The best thing? 9/10 times, the compliments I get are from Older Women. I'm talking your Little Old Ladies and Conservative-Looking Grannies. I met a woman yesterday going to meet her two great grandchildren and she went on and on about my hair and asking questions about it.

I never thought of myself as someone who would have Fun Hair someday, but you know what? I have had this for two years and I have zero intention of stopping any time soon. It makes ME happy, and APPARENTLY it also makes other people happy. So do what makes you happy, and see how the world reacts.

^Literally me, today. (Meeting my BRAND NEW NEPHEW, born this morning!) My hair is messy and dirty because I slept in an airport overnight and it needs a trim but y'know what? I still got compliments tonight from some nurses and a woman at a grocery store.)

It’s crazy and fucked up that being yourself is actually the solution.

[rainydayarcaneimagines]

One Last Night(Jayce x reader)

Warnings: SHIELD YOUR EYES FOR THE UNCOVERED ANKLES (smut. There is smut.)

It was all a shock. To land in an alternate reality where everything was fucked up. But it was an even bigger shock to him when he went to go back to his own and still ended up in the wrong reality.

There he was and everything was…

Great?

Life was almost a damn Utopia. What was crazier was Zaun and Piltover were put together and better functioning than his own damn reality. He walked the streets absolutely fucking baffled by what was happening before him. He heard tidbits and realized that in this reality his creation killed Vi, but was destroyed in the process.

From what he managed to understand, he had basically gone through his trial by getting his experiment confiscated. Even weirder, Jayce was successful in other ways but not… actually hextech.

It was beyond bizarre. Especially since… you were alive. No hextech meant no advanced weapons, no explosion, no explosion meant you were alive. Now he was fixated on finding you. If he was stuck there, he had to find you.

He had looked high and low.

And nothing.

Not a freaking sign. He sighed, sitting at a booth in a bar with his head in his hands when the gods seemed to finally answer his prayers.

“Can I get you anything sir?”

Jayce’s head snapped up and his eyes widened. You were fucking beautiful. Your hair was longer, dyed a vibrant color, just like you always said you wanted but weren’t ballsy enough to go through with it. Your eyes were brighter. You seemed happy.

“Y/n..” he breathed.

“Yeah that’s my name dude, don’t abuse it.” You chuckled.

“Jayce— it’s me Jayce.” He said staring at you. You squinted.

“Uh… do I know you man?” You asked confused. Oh fuck. No hextech meant you never got hired at the academy to be his assistant…

“Fuck uhm…” he sighed. You looked at him confused.

“You okay?” You asked. Your kindness was definitely still there.

“Uh… Shit I uhm.” He couldn’t form words. You were alive. The love of his fucking life was alive. But didn’t know who he was.

“…Need a drinking buddy?” You asked.

“…Yeah that uhm… Yes please.” He nodded.

“Vander! I’m taking my break!” You called out. Holy crap— Vander and Silco were alive?! And running a damn bar—“what’s got you so weirded out right now?” You asked.

“Why do you think I’m weirded out?” He muttered.

“Because you looked… bugged out, like you just took a fucking ice bath dude.” You shrugged. Glad to see your bluntness was still intact too.

Jayce smiled sadly before sighing. “I uhm… well I just… feel like a fish out of water.” He admitted.

“Why’s that?” You asked.

“…” did he risk sounding nuts, potentially causing you to freak the fuck out? Did he risk pushing you away from him? Fuck it. Things were still out of control in his reality, he needed to find a way back and there was someone he knew had a brilliant enough of a damn mind to make it work. “This is going to sound crazy but—“

He explained it all. From start to finish. You of course, stared at him like he was nuts. “Yeah but do you have proof dude, because right now you sound batshit.” You said after the explanation.

He sighed leaning back. “Your favorite song is Midnight blues. But you always say it’s Eros.” He says. You snorted.

“Okay weirdo maybe you just lurk on my Next tune—“

“You are allergic to peanuts. You always wanted a poro but your allergies stop you so you have a hairless cat instead. You love to sit on top of the old factory at night because it overlooks everything and you love to see the city at night, you love ionian literature, you hate the sounds of trucks that run too loud and flip off the driver every time you see one.” He listed off. Some of those were habits you knew no one would know. And he knew this. “You wear your grandmother’s locket. It has a picture of both your grandparents inside, the damn thing is almost eighty years old and has their initials engraved on the heart.” That. That detail made you believe him. Because you wore your locket, yes. But it was tucked inside your shirt so the pendant wouldn’t fall off.

You stared at him “..How did you—“

“Because in my reality we were together.” He said softly.

“…oh” you said. That’s why this guy stared at you like you completed his life just by merely existing. “Did we break up or something—“

“You died, Y/n… some girl— uhm… she went nuts and shot off a missile into a council meeting. Killed half the council, my partner got severely injured and… you died.” He muttered.

You blinked “…No offense, really. But if… your reality is really that shit, why are you so eager to go back?” You asked.

“Because before I ended up in this one, I saw what happens when I don’t succeed. I gotta say. It’s bad.” He said. You sighed.

“Why… tell me all this?” You asked.

“Because I know your mind. I know your talent Y/n, if anyone can help me I know it’s you.” He said softly. You stared at him before sighing again and running your fingers through your hair.

“…I mean I don’t even know how to start with time travel.” You admitted.

“I don’t either.” He admitted. “But… I think if we work together we can figure it out.” He said softly. He put his hand over yours that rested on the table and you pulled away. He mentally scolded himself that you didn’t know him in this reality.

“Okay I mean I can try but don’t be disappointed if me in this universe isn’t a damn genius.” You said leaning back in the booth. You seemed to have a lightbulb moment. “But my dad might know.” You added.

Your dad. You never mentioned even in your relationship in his reality who your dad was. He assumed he wasn’t around in his reality.

“Hey! Dad!” You called. Silco looked over.

“Yes kid?” He asked. Jayce froze. Silco? Silco the gods damned inventor was your dad? The man who basically made Vi’s sister into Jinx was your dad? That’s why you never mentioned this?!

“Come here for a sec.” You motioned. He walked from behind the bar and sat down. With zero hesitation you explained everything Jayce had told you. You trusted Silco. You clearly loved your dad too.

“…Well this is… interesting.” He said.

“Yeah. Any idea where to start?” You asked.

“My best educated guess is string theory. You made a major event. You came back here from a major event. So maybe make a major event. Your uh… hex something or other, doesn’t exist in this world, do you know how to make it again?” He asked.

“Yeah..” he admitted.

“Then I’d start there. And maybe try to do what you did to your core in your timeline to that one?” He suggested.

“That’s… solid advice. Thank you silco.” He nodded. The fuck? Silco never said his name..

“Right. Be careful Y/n.” He muttered before getting up.

“Thanks dad.” You nodded. Jayce looked at you. “What?” You asked.

“Your dad is Silco?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah. Why? Was he not in your reality” You asked.

“No he was but… nevermind.” Jayce sighed.

“We can use my dad’s workshop. Plenty of space. Come on.”

You started working. Days Jayce spent close to you, working on calculations and making a hexcore. Many nights he found you sleeping at your desk. And every time his coat would be wrapped around you in the morning when you woke up.

It was strange. A man you swear you had never met loved you so much that you could tell that the closer you got to cracking this, the more he struggled with the idea of losing all you over again.

It had been a week. You walked over to him sitting on the couch with calculations.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked. He looked up and nodded. “…Were we happy?” You asked softly.

His focused gaze cracked to a soft fondness. “We were.” He told you.

“…And even though I don’t really know you… do you still love—“

“Without question.” He said softly. You stared at him in silence. You almost felt sad. To have such a firm romantic love from someone, even if it was from another timeline but not be able to know, to share that feeling with this man that seemed to unconditionally love you…

There was guilt. You thought of throwing him a line, flirt with him. But you didn’t want what you knew were his last memories with you to be a lie. You couldn’t force yourself to love this stranger either.

“Jayce?”

“Mhm?”

“What if we went on a date?” You asked. He seemed shocked by this suggestion. “I mean… you feel this love for me. And judging by the way you mentioned your memories of other me, it was mutual and it… bugs me that I can’t really share that.” You said.

He looked at you like he was happy yet still… sad. “Sure, Y/n. Where would you like to go?” He asked softly. He couldn’t refuse one last lasting memory with you. Not when this wound still felt this fresh.

“Uh… well I dunno. This version of me never went on a date before so..”

“Mm. I can figure it out. Come on.” He said getting up.

“Oh— now?”

“Yeah. I know where we should go. Come on.” He said softly.

So you went. On a date. From that moment on, every night was a date. Spend the day working with this strange little blue glowy ball, then go off to dinner. What was worse? You knew this version of you was going to lose him. But you still fell in love with him anyway.

It was the final night. The last piece had been clicked into place thanks to Ekko and Heimerdinger in the same damn predicament. Heimerdinger insisted he needed to make adjustments. In reality he was giving the boys time to say goodbye.

You sat across from him in your apartment. “So this is it… after tonight you’re going back.” You said softly.

“Yeah… yeah I uhm… I am.” He nodded clearing his throat.

You looked in his eyes “…I didn’t expect this to be hard.”

“For what to be—“

“You leaving.” Jayce went silent. You drew in breath “…after these dates, these… times… I get why I loved you, Jayce.”

He swallowed hard. “Then… let’s treat this night like it really is our last.” He said softly.

You looked over at him “how?”

He pulled you closer to him from the chair you were sitting in. “…Let me love you for one last night.” He said softly. You broke at that. This was your last night. You were losing the only romantic love you have ever known. You had had “situationships” that pretty much were just sex but nothing like this. You had two options. Cry….

Or cherish it.

You kissed him. For the first time you kissed someone. Was this absolutely bizarre? Oh fuck yeah. But you didn’t regret it.

He pulled you even closer, into his lap, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. He needed you like fucking air right now. One final victory before the bigger fight he knew he’d come back to.

He kissed you, over and over again, his fingers in your hair, his other hand on your back holding you close. You slid off your shirt and his eyes widened.

“Y/n are you sure—“

“I don’t want to think anymore Jayce… I just… I want to feel.” You whispered. So that’s what he did. He kissed your neck, unhooking your bra, cupping your breast in his hand. He rolled your nipple through his fingers and you buried your face in his neck.

“We can back out at any time Y/n—“

“Don’t stop” you breathed out. No. Not breathed. You moaned. Any semblance of control the man may have had flew out the window as he pushed you onto the couch.

Kiss after kiss, hickey after hickey his hand moved lower undoing your pants. He slid his hand past the hem of your panties and you gasped, your hands covering your mouth.

He pulled them away with his freehand. “Let me hear you.” He said in your ear, rubbing circles over your clit. Your eyes fluttered closed, your hands moving to his hair as you took moaning breaths.

“J-Jayce I need—“

“I know baby. I know.” He said pulling off your pants. There you were sprawled out naked under him as he pulled off his belt. He let it hit the floor with a soft clatter and he gently spread your thighs.

“Gods if we had time I’d be worshipping you right now,” he murmured. You kissed him as he lined himself up. With a gasp from you he pushed in and you gripped the couch moaning as he moved. He went the pace he knew you loved. Deep, and fast.

“Oh gods— don’t stop please don’t fucking stop!” You moaned.

“That’s it. Let me hear you.” He whispered in your ear. Gods his voice as he was absolutely railing you was making this very difficult not to finish on the spot. It didn’t help that his fingers found their way back to your clit rubbing circles as he kept going with his thrusts.

In.

Breaths kept mingling

Out.

Kisses and moans filled the room.

Back in.

“I love you”

“I love you too”

Back out.

Your nails dug into his shoulder as he thrusted, your head tilting back. The release hit you both, his face buried in your neck as he panted against you.

After a few minutes he pulled away looking in your eyes. You looked at him with that same warmth. That soft smile. But from both of you it had an underlying sadness. You looked in his eyes before you swallowed hard, looking down.

“…Jayce..?” You murmured

“Yeah?”

“Do you… really have to go?” You mumbled. He sighed softly.

“Believe me. If I didn’t, I would stay right here with you.” He muttered.

“What if I went with you..?” You muttered.

“Baby, I don’t know how that would go… you died in my reality. If I brought you from this one… you might die… again.” He said softly.

You looked sad. “I’m never going to see you again… am I?” You murmured.

“…I don’t know. I will find a way to come back once all this shit in my reality is over.” He murmured. You swallowed hard.

“And if you can’t?” You muttered.

“I will.” He said determined. You looked in his eyes. You could tell he meant it.

“Then let’s get you to that weird little core then.”

[the-au-thor]

ʙᴀʙʏꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴜɴ | ᴘᴛ.4 | ᴇ.ᴍ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Summary: "Eddie Munson has a whaaaat?"

Yep, he has a heart, and it angers you so much.

And he also so has a good taste in clothing which is...weird.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fey!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Click here

[¹][²][³][⁴][⁵][⁶][⁷][⁸][⁹][¹⁰][¹¹][¹²][¹³][¹⁴]

You wouldn’t look at him. Since leaving Los Angeles, flying over the beautiful skies of the United States toward Indiana, you hadn’t made eye contact with him—not even once. It hurt a lot more because you could look the others in the eye but not him.

“So… all your friends and your dad are in Hawkins, but you bought a house in Indianapolis,” you said, holding the notebook you always carried for work while watching Eddie’s driver carry his luggage into the massive house Eddie had bought a few years ago.

“Exactly,” he admitted, watching as questions piled up on your face. But instead of asking them, you adjusted your glasses, which sent the loose strand from your bun falling across your face. You nodded, handing him the keys to his truck.

“Alright. Here are your truck keys. Tomorrow, you’ve got a solo radio interview, and the guys will be traveling here from Hawkins for the concert. We already advertised that any kid wearing a Hellfire Club shirt gets an 80% discount on merch, and I sent VIP passes to all your friends and your unc—your dad.” You corrected yourself quickly.

Eddie took the keys to his truck and stuck his tongue out behind your back. You were too busy studying your notebook to notice, looking neither impressed nor fazed.

“Aren’t you going to ask anything?”

“Nope. I’ll be at my hotel room. Try not to call me because you decided to steal a giraffe from the zoo or throw a hobo party, alright? Great talk,” you said as you walked toward the house's foyer to grab your jacket.

“Oh, come on, Fey! What do you mean, your hotel room? There are, like, ten bedrooms here,” Eddie protested, following you, his arms flailing impatiently.

“I booked a room with the rest of the concert staff. Like it should be,” you explained, still avoiding his gaze as you straightened your jacket, pulling your hair out from under it.

“Come on, you’re not staff—you’re my assistant. What if I need something at night or something?”

You laughed.

“What, to give you a bottle and burp you? No thanks. See you later, Eddie.”

He clenched his teeth.

“How long are you going to stay mad at me, Fey?” he finally asked, pointing out the elephant in the room after four days without contact and two excruciating hours of travel.

“I’m not mad at you, Eddie. I just think we need boundaries,” you explained. “Boundaries will help make sure what happened at the party doesn’t happen again.”

“Don’t call me Eddie,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

You looked at him, but not really—your eyes settled somewhere on his forehead as if you were digging a bullet-sized hole there.

“That’s your name. Or would you prefer I call you Mr. Munson?”

Eddie puffed out his cheeks and lightly punched the wall beside him.

“Dammit, Fey, you drive me crazy,” he muttered.

You smirked, victorious.

“Sorry to hear that, Mr.—”

“Oh, don’t you dare,” he cut you off, his tone almost a warning. But to you, it wasn’t threatening—it was entertaining. “And cut it out with the ‘Mr.’ and ‘Eddie.’ That’s not us. I’m Mun, and you’re Fey.”

You blinked rapidly, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“That’s not my name,” you replied flatly.

Eddie rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Enough. I’ll have your luggage brought in. We have a lot to talk about. My friends are arriving Wednesday, and one of them has a birthday. I need you as my conscience because apparently hiring nuns to serve drinks isn’t a great idea, according to Robert.”

“I agree with him, which I never thought I’d say. Tomorrow, after the interview, we can grab lunch and talk about it,” you said, quickly jotting something in your notebook.

“You’re killing me, Fey. Why do you have to make everything so hard?”

“Others would say I’m actually making it easier.”

Eddie let out a humorless laugh.

“Oh yeah? Who? I’d like to meet them.”

“I don’t know—maybe someone like Will Walsh,” you quipped, emphasizing the name with sarcasm before snapping your notebook shut and heading for the door. That remark only made Eddie angrier.

“See? SEE?! I KNEW YOU WERE MAD—”

“What’s going on here, son?” Wayne’s voice echoed through the house, interrupting the endless, pointless argument. He had just come inside using the keys Eddie had given him when he bought the house. Both of you looked at him in silence, and of course, Eddie spoke first.

“I’m trying to deal with this woman!”

Offended, you glared at him, eyebrows raised in anger, and your mouth opened instantly to protest.

“Don’t call me that!”

Eddie nodded, pretending to reflect, placing a hand on his chin.

“You’re right. The more accurate word is child,” he said, turning to Wayne. “Wayne, I’m trying to deal with this hellish child.”

“I’m leaving,” you muttered, sighing in frustration, unwilling to hear any more of the nonsense Eddie had to say. Pausing in front of Wayne, you attempted to compose yourself, offering him a polite handshake and a nervous smile. “Sorry you had to see this, Wayne. Nice shirt. See you at the concert, I guess.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t let this brat get under your skin,” he murmured the last part to you, making you puff out your cheeks and purse your lips angrily.

“It’s a little late for that,” you replied, leaning toward his ear, earning a chuckle that only irritated Eddie more. He rubbed his face with his hands and started tying his hair into a high bun.

“Fey, can you at least take this?” he asked, rushing to one of his massive suitcases and pulling out a package adorned with a bow. He placed it in your hands when it became clear you wouldn’t lift a finger to take it.

“Who should I send it to?” you asked, studying the package as if it were a foreign object.

“To your hotel room,” he replied, mocking you in a childlike voice. “It’s yours.”

Suspicious, you raised one eyebrow.

“Does it contain an explosive that’ll go off when I pull this ribbon?” you asked, flipping the package over in your hands.

“Jesus,” he muttered, rubbing his mouth. “The only thing you’re pulling is my balls,” he grumbled through gritted teeth.

You nodded silently, clutching the gift to your chest without letting the comment bother you.

“Thanks,” you said.

Now it was Eddie who was giving you a strange look.

“That’s it?”

You glanced at Wayne and then back at him, unsure.

“Yeah. I’m leaving now, Eddie.”

“Damn it!” he growled, the words ripping out of his throat like they were strangling him as he watched you close the door. Then he turned to Wayne. “Don’t ask me to explain, because I don’t know how.”

Wayne laughed, amused.

“It’s pretty clear to me. For once, you’re not messing with a girl—a girl’s messing with you.”

“Ha-ha,” Eddie deadpanned, not even pretending to find it funny. He threw an arm around Wayne’s neck—the man who was as close to a father as he’d ever had. “How about you tell me how life’s been over a couple of beers, huh?”

When the car dropped you off at the hotel, you were honestly exhausted. Thankfully, after the Indianapolis concert, there’d be a two-week break before the tour picked back up in New York. That would wrap up the U.S. leg before heading to Europe in about a month. The idea of seeing even a bit of London or Scotland had you a little excited. You’d always wanted to visit those places. Of course, it wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined it, but you weren’t going to get picky. You had a job that paid the bills and let you see some nice places when you weren’t, as Eddie so eloquently put it, “pulling his balls.”

You couldn’t figure out why it irritated him so much that you were keeping your distance. You’d have thought he’d enjoy it. He was like some hormonal teenager—distant when his parents were around but thrilled to have space to sneak girls into the house. So why was he so bothered?

If you were being honest, though, you were enjoying it. It was about time Eddie Munson, rockstar extraordinaire, got a taste of his own medicine in the form of a little frustration.

You bit your thumb nervously, staring at the package sitting on the bed. You had no idea what in the world it could be. Eddie didn’t give you gifts. Eddie gave you generous bonuses, usually as extra pay for using your free time—or what should have been your sleep time—to clean up his messes.

You knew he was generous and cared about the people close to him, but you weren’t his friend. The only reason you knew anything about his private life was because that’s what you were hired for: don’t ask questions (but do, if necessary), fix problems, and anticipate potential disasters in both the public and not-so-public life of Eddie Munson.

When you’d agreed to an interview with Robert at his office, you’d pictured something completely different. But the man had set a trap. Just like he had an eye for rising stars, he also had a talent for spotting desperate, broke souls.

Anyway, back to the package. Eddie didn’t give anything without expecting something in return. And you hadn’t done anything for him that wasn’t already paid for. So what was in that package?

You muttered a curse under your breath and tore into it, showing no mercy for the expensive wrapping paper or the intricately tied bow, which now bounced somewhere on the hotel room floor.

Inside was more paper—a kind of thin, translucent cushioning for something delicate.

“What, no maze for me to solve, too?” you muttered as you worked to unwrap it.

Finally, you uncovered the contents: a beautiful piece of fabric that appeared to have at least three layers—the lining, the inner layer, and a layer of tulle on the outside. You picked it up and realized it was a gorgeous dress, floor-length and elegant. The lining and inner fabric ended mid-thigh, but the tulle extended all the way down to brush the floor.

It had one sleeve, while the other arm was left bare. A black evening gown, delicate, expensive, and absolutely stunning. It even smelled of a fragrance far too luxurious to come from a convenience store.

You glanced back at the package and noticed a note tucked inside. That messy handwriting was unmistakable.

“Fey,

Here’s something you can wear next time you treat yourself to one of my record label’s boring parties.

Happy belated birthday, and sorry if I’m an ignorant ass.

—Mun xx”

You read the note a couple of times, then stared at the gorgeous dress for a few minutes. You felt the warmth in your chest building, transforming second by second into something else.

When you realized what it was, you threw the dress onto the bed angrily, glared up at the ceiling, and screamed.

Damn. Eddie. Munson.

[thecedarchronicle]

im literally about to sell my soul to aideen for ANYONE to give me a job in this got dam city

[yardsards]

i needed to express a sentiment in the creative stylings of @dunmeshiminimumwage

[moonilit]

really thinking about how Dick pulled off his acting abilities to their 110% to fake being different lovers for kory for the sake of maintaining his secret identity and relationship with her, like its hilarious, do you think kory have a picture book of all her lovers (dick) and showed them to his sibs and they use it as ammo lmao

[vimbry]

me and the work girlies having socialist convos at the end of the day

[theflyingfeeling]

stupid stupid stupid stupid I am so fucking stupid

(LONG rant in the tags. originally a little longer still but apparently there were too many tags so tumblr deleted the rest lol)

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who from the moment he laid eyes on you, has only ever referred to you as his wife

You, this sweet little thing, running through the halls on base one day when you turn a corner and nearly run headfirst into the Lieutenant, who’s walking alongside Soap

“Oh! Sorry about that, sir.” You told him, never slowing down in your hurried pace as you snuck around his large frame and continued down towards whatever you were evidently late for

The only reason his gaze had followed your retreating form, was that unlike everyone else, you had met in his eyes when you spoke, even smiled warmly up at him

That one smile and he was done for

“Who was tha’?” The sergeant had questioned, seeing Ghost’s attention still fixated on you.

“Think that was my wife.”

“Yer what?!”

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who makes it a point to let everyone know that you are in fact his wife

Well, everyone apart from you apparently

He would certainly never abuse his position as a Lieutenant, but some new recruit had the audacity to whistle at you as you walked by? Well 100 laps around the base don’t exactly run themselves

Another soldier saved you a seat next to him in a briefing? He can enjoy scrubbing toilet seats for the next week in that case

Someone actually had the bollocks to ask you for your phone number? Perfect, he needed a volunteer for demonstrating hand to hand combat to the recruits, medics on standby of course

By the time he properly introduces himself to you for the first time, it’s understood by everyone else around that you are, for all intents and purposes, Mrs Riley

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who listens to you tell him your name in a voice that resembles music to his ears, hardly bothering to remember your last name, seeing as it’ll be changing soon enough anyway

“You can call me anythin’ you want, love.” His deep, gravelly voice had sent shivers down your spine, cheeky smirk widening beneath his mask. “So long as you call me, that is.”

By the end of your first date, (you were sitting alone in the dining hall and he wordlessly joined you what do you mean this isn’t a date) he’s wondering if you’ll insist on a ceremony or if he can sweep you away to the nearest courthouse and make this official, slipping a ring onto you finger and his cock into you

You had laughed when he put his number into your phone and named himself ‘Husband’, certain that the man was only messing with you, some kind of hazing that you apparently weren’t aware Lieutenants played on the new communications hire, but it was only fair seeing as he’d saved your contact under ‘Wife’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who is over the moon every time you play along, even if he knows you believe you’re only playing

“Ach, thanks Lt. Just what I needed.” Soap said, seeing Ghost’s approaching form enter the common room, holding a steaming cup of tea in each hand

“S’for my wife. Get your own.” The older man gruffly replied, sliding the mug onto the side table next to where you’re curled up on the couch, reading a book

“Aw, thank you honey.” You giggled, smiling up as him with an expression he thinks would taste even sweeter than honey if he were to run his tongue across your upturned lips

“Happy wife, happy life, sergeant.” Ghost shrugged, ignoring the other man’s pout, landing next to you and reaching an arm behind you across the back of the couch

“God, maybe I really should keep you.” You’d laughed, reaching a leg out to dig your socked toes into his muscled thigh, teasing him

Grasping your foot into his large, strong hands, he began massaging it, uncaring that you were only two of the many people in the common room, not when you looked at him like that, smiling together as though you truly were nothing more than a married couple

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who surprised you one day, insisting he needed your help with something crucial off base, and drove you to a local shopping outlet to look at none other than dresses

“Is there some sort of party happening?” You’d questioned, confused out of your mind

“Suppose you could consider it a party.” He’d answered, leading you through the many racks of dresses, you noticed were all, very conveniently, white

“Now while you’re lookin’ through dress sizes,” he’d added, taking your left hand in both of his. “You know your ring size? Got my own shoppin’ to do ‘round here.”

Series masterlist

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was working at the sex shop I was pulling poverty wages. I loved my job but I was on food stamps and still barely getting by. When they hired the stores first male employee and he started at my pay rate after I’d been there for three years I quit.

I was initially really nervous when I saw the post for the mattress job. It listed a pay scale that I couldn’t even conceptualize and I appeared qualified. When I got an interview I was over the moon but also petrified. Reactions to my line of work often varied but most people were very embarrassed or skeptical. I worried about how I’d address it in the actual interview.

I lived far to the north of their headquarters and drove almost two hours to get there. When I finally arrived it was in the nicest thrift store clothes I could find, but I shrank inside to see a room full of older white men in nice suits waiting to be interviewed for the same job.

Why did I bother? I was decades younger than anyone else in the room, shabbily dressed, and I suspected I was the only afab person in the entire building. I stewed in my insecurities until I was called in.

The second I met my interviewer I was instantly put at ease. The man had the energy of a therapy dog, he was abound with positive, good natured energy. He was also incredibly beautiful. I grinned back at his welcoming smile as we said our pleasantries. But still. This very beautiful polished man seemed very innocent. How would the sex shop question go?

“I see here you worked at STORE?”

“Yes,” I said hesitantly.

“And that was sales? Or you just rang people up.”

“No, it was sales. I’d help people find products, we were encouraged to upsell, there was sales spiffs, and most importantly we educated customers on products to help them find what they liked best.”

He grinned approvingly and asked, “Can you give me an example of a time you successfully upsold a customer?”

I paused, wringing my hands before I asked, “How vague would you like me to be…?”

“Not at all!” He assured me. “Go for it!”

“Well. A man came in looking for something to make his fingers vibrate so when he was touching his wife it would enhance that sensation. We had cheap $10 cockrings that I showed him first. But we had a rechargeable waterproof one made of nicer material, and after I showed him a demo he bought that one.”

“How much was that one?”

“$110”

“Wow! You had an upsell of 100% from what he came in looking for! That’s incredible!”

He was so truly genuinely stoked and not at all embarrassed that for the first time I saw a tiny glimmer of a future where I didn’t have ramen and peanut butter tiding me over between paychecks.

He asked me to wait then came back to tell me he liked me so much that he wanted to send me right into another interview, if that was okay. He didn’t want me to have to drive back later, it was terribly considerate and exciting. I beamed and told him it would be lovely.

I then had the second worst interview I’ve ever had. The worst goes to the time I applied to be a store manager for a pet food place years later. The district and store manager interviewing me passed notes and texted while I was speaking. When the district manager called to inform me I didn’t get the job I told him I’d never have accepted anyway because I’d never had such a disrespectful interview.

The new man sitting behind the desk radiated an aura of a brick wall. As someone with anxiety I’m highly keyed into the emotional states of people I’m talking to. To receive no feedback at all was my personal hell. After a perfunctory greeting he asked me with no inflection to sell him a pen.

I gathered the shreds of my courage and attempted the Herculean task he’d set me. Through my whole improvised spiel he resisted all attempts at engaging him, regarding me with a cold apathy as I touted the benefits of my fictitious pen.

Halfway through I broke into a cold sweat. My smile didn’t waver but it grew strained as I projected friendliness and warmth into the black hole of his heart. My thoughts scattered and my sales pitch grew redundant in the face of his nothingness. I finally concluded with a hard close and he simply nodded.

He glanced at my resume and commented, “You didn’t ask me to touch or hold it. Though I suppose I can understand from your previous line of work why you wouldn’t.” I shriveled and died inside knowing that I encouraged people to touch dildos all day long and had been too frazzled to offer him the pen.

He bid me a cool farewell. I made it to my car before I started sobbing. I had never been so rattled. I couldn’t understand what I’d done to make him so unfriendly or if my threadbare clothes were what had made him treat me like dirt. I drove an hour and a half to get home, weeping intermittently.

I was therefore taken by complete surprise to receive a call the next day inviting me on board for their five week training program. The first man who’d interviewed me gushed on the phone about how the second guy had loved me and that I was going to be fantastic.

I was in shock. When I showed up to training the second interviewer was charming my new classmates, beaming and laughing. He was an utterly different person. To my dismay I learned he was the trainer for my district and would be my point of contact if I made it through training.

He joked with me later that his interview facade was just a tactic to see how people held up under pressure and I filed him into a category of my deepest enmity. I never forgave him for how small he made me feel that day, but I never showed him the depths of my fury.

I aced every test and went on to be valedictorian of the eight people who had survived the rigorous training process to earn a sales position. When I got my first paycheck I bought myself new clothes, the first non-thrifted things I’d owned in years.

[piknim]

Day 2 work impressions: the smell of tobacco is burned into my nose aaaaaaa

But other than getting mixed messages from the rules about tobacco and alcohol sales this job seems fairly easy??? I get why it has a high turnover rate though. Customers kept saying "oh youre new, welcome to the hood. Theres a high turnover rate here" FJSBSBSBSB

[alastor-simp]

Alastor x Reader - Sleeping On His Lap

Here is my attempt at a Alastor x reader fanfiction. Took me awhile to kinda get into his character so please don't be mad if Alastor seems a bit off. Enjoy!

Sigh, it was another eventful day at the Happy Hotel, or Hazbin Hotel as it was now called as a certain deer demon decided to change the name. You had spent all day doing certain tasks around the hotel such as helping Charlie create posters for the hotel, clean the rooms with Nifty, break up the brawl between Vaggie and Angel Dust as he had pissed her off one too many times and organize the bar for Husk as he was passed out drunk. You could have refused to do these things, but you enjoyed helping people, so it made it all worth it.

You had started working at the hotel after you had saw Charlie singing on the 666 news about the hotel and redeeming demons, only for her idea to be made a laughing stock upon everyone who watched the broadcast. You actually had mixed feelings about the whole redeeming thing, seeing as you weren't sure if someone like you could be sent to heaven, despite not being a very big criminal during your time when you were alive, but apparently doing a little shoplifting is enough to send you a one way ticket to hell. Charlie's words did inspire you a little bit, so even if you felt that you couldn't be redeemed, others probably had a better chance, so you decided to head to the hotel and ask for a job after the broadcast was cut off from the brawl with Charlie and Katie Killjoy. You were hired in a split second and immediately pulled into a bear hug by Charlie, and then introduced you to the others.

Back to the present, you began to feel extremely exhausted from moving around everywhere, so you headed over to one of the rooms with the long couches so you could take a rest. Heading into one of the rooms, you peeped around and saw that no one was there, which made it better as you really needed some peace and quiet. Heaving a deep sigh, you sat down on the couch, turning and falling back, as you laid your body down, with your head facing the front of the couch. "What a long day", thinking to yourself as your eyes slowly began to close and you were lulled into a deep sleep.

**2 Hours Later**

As you were sleeping, you felt the sensation of someone petting your head, the soothing feeling had awoken you a bit, but you quickly fell back asleep at the warm touch. You could feel that you were holding something in your dreams, and you assumed it was one of the pillows on the couch, so you brought it closer to your face and nuzzled it. "Mm, smells nice ", as the scent from the pillow was making you more relaxed, as it reminded you of a being in the middle of a deep forest. After sleeping for 30 more minutes, you slowly began to open your eyes, and try to make out what was in front of you. Expecting to see a pillow, you saw red stripes in front of you, "Huh?" As you were still trying to make out what was in front of you, a loud voice interrupted your thoughts: "Ah, awake now are we?", said a static voice above you. Eyes opening wide, you looked up from your position and saw Alastor staring down at you with his trademark smile. Slowly, you began to piece together that you were laying on his lap, and nuzzled into his chest as you were sleeping. "AHHHH", jumping up from your position, you rolled off his lap, and your body fell to the ground as you stared at Alastor in shock, as he continued to look at you with his glowing eyes, amused at your reaction. "Um, h-how long was I sleeping on your lap?", you softly asked, as your face was red, but your eyes were showing fear, as you remembered that Alastor did not like to be touch, and you happened to hug him in your sleep. "HAHA, For quite a while, darling. It was a very busy day, I assume?", Alastor said as he placed his arm on the armrest of the couch, and his hand against his cheek, smiling even wider.

Nodding your head, you slowly got up from your position, and started apologizing to Alastor, eyes aiming towards the ground and fingers twiddling together. Alastor raised an eyebrow and wondered why you were apologizing, to which you answered that you had hugged him in your sleep, and that he made it very aware that he did not enjoy physical contact from someone unless he initiated it, feeling extremely bad if you made him uncomfortable. Listening to you, Alastor's smile relaxed to a small grin as he looked at you with gentle eyes. He did admit that he was not use to being touch by others, and was quite surprised from the sleep hug, but he didn't detest it as much coming from you, which boggled his mind completely. It must be due to your kind and innocent nature that made him react different around you, as he was used to more of the common riff raff being terrified of him or trying to battle in a turf war, but how you were with him, made his black heart melt.

Feeling that Alastor was upset as he didn't respond to your apology, you quickly excused yourself and began to head over to the door to leave. A loud SNAP was heard and before you knew it, you had been teleported back on to the couch, this time being seated on Alastors lap. "A-Al, what are you doing?!", your face began to become as red as his hair, while your eyes stared at Alastor in shock. Smiling at you, Alastor moved his hand to your chin and tilted your face up: "There is no need to apologize, darling. If I had been upset about you hugging me, you possibly w̩͉͍̱̍̂̉̊o̫̼̐̎̋͜u͚͌l̳̓d̠͉̗͋̔͞'̼̳̣̼͊̏̾̾t͜͝ ͕̱͐͠ḇ̅e̙͗ ͍͓͔̱͍͛̔͌͘͞a̝̜̘̎́͒ḽ͒í̱̙̈́v̧̌e̠͠ ̢̹̜́́̈̀ͅr̲͇̳̅̽͌i̩͈̒̅ĝ̲̦̎ẖ̛̳̲͙̀͌̽͘ͅt͉̅ ͖̞͍̞́̋͛͛ň͚̫̦́͂̿͟o̱͌w̡̕" he said, as his eyes flashed for a second into radio dials. "However! I am not opposed to be touched by you. So no need to apologize, my dear.", Alastor said as he continued to smile at you widely, but his glowing eyes were looking at you softly, letting you know that he was not angry with you. Feeling shy, you turned your head away from Alastor, muttering a soft okay, as your heart was beating rapidly. "Smile my dear!" Alastor said as he moved his hand from your chin to your cheek, to have you look at him again. Baring through the embarrassing situation, you gave Al a small smile, which pleased him. "You always over do it, darling. While Charlie and I appreciate your efforts at helping the hotel, it does no good to work yourself to the point of fatigue. If you are ever feeling exhausted and need a break, don't be hesitant to come find me, as my radio tower is open to you. Understand, my dear?" said Alastor, as he leaned closer towards you, making you flustered again.

Nodding your head was enough to let Alastor knew you understood as he chuckled, while sliding you off his lap, and as he stood up from the couch. "Now then, we should probably head back to the lobby before the others get worried about our lack of presence.", He said, as he straighten his coat out, while turning towards you, extending his hand out for you to take it. "Yeah we should", as you grabbed his hand, and made your way with him back to the lobby. You were still trying to process what just happened between you and Alastor, but you feel like you both have become much closer then before, and you didn't mind it one bit.

[harrysfolklore]

lando norris being down bad for his girlfriend: a compilation

summary: lando norris can’t help but talk about his girlfriend whenever he cans, fans make compilation videos about it

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Lando Norris could be described as someone who's not scared of saying whatever crossed his mind.

And that's why he never, ever, missed the opportunity to talk about his girlfriend whenever he had the chance.

He mentioned her during interviews, press conferences, social media post and even fan interactions. To the point where fans started making compilation videos with all the moments he publicly obsessed over his girlfriend.

The most popular one gathered millions of views on YouTube, showing multiple occasions Lando couldn't help but be down bad for her.

The video started with a clip from Q&A with fans, someone asked him about his favorite way to relax after a race. Without missing a beat, Lando replied, "Cuddling up with my girlfriend, of course. Nothing beats that."

"You're really whipped man, It's embarrassing," Oscar, his teammate, teased beside him, making the audience laugh.

"It's not, really." Lando shrugged proudly.

The next clip was taken from McLaren's Tiktok account, their content creator tried to do the "Can you watch my ___ for a second" prank on Lando.

"Oh my girlfriend already did this prank to me," Lando said, laughing at the camera, "Baby, If you're watching this, I miss you. Your pranks are way better than McLaren's"

The video moved to show Lando during a post-qualifying interview, his suit hanging by his waist and his fireproofs showing, when asked about his strategy for the race, he cheekily replied, "Well, first I'm going to call my girlfriend for some good luck wishes. Then, I'll focus on getting to the front."

"Zak Brown should hire your girlfriend as your strategist then," the interviewer joked.

"That would be great but I don't think we would be getting any job done. You know what they say about mixing business with pleasure."

The next clip showed Lando with his friend and fellow driver Max Fewtrell, playing a trivia game about how well did they knew each other. Max had to answer what was Lando's worst habit.

"I'm going to say leaving dirty plates around the house," he said, showing his board, "You do mate, admit it."

"My girlfriend would agree on that," he admitted, "She's always complaining about it."

"I don't know how she's still living with you."

"Because she loves me, and I would die if she leaves me."

On the same note, a video of Oscar teasing Lando followed right after.

"Who's most likely to snore?" Lando read the question, and Oscar quickly put ut the cutout with Lando's face, "How are you so sure? You didn't even hesitate."

"Mate, I've heard you, plus your girlfriend literally complained about not being able to sleep properly last night because you kept snoring."

"I did keep her up last night, but it wasn't just because of the snoring," Lando said, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Put the not safe for work disclaimer at the beginning of this video please."

The next segment was from Lando's own Youtube channel, he was doing a little vlog in Miami before the race weekend.

"Hi everyone," he said, filming himself in the mirror with his camera, "Today I'm back with another LandoLog, I'm going to be filming some behind the scenes of this Miami weekend, so without further ado, let's go," he moved the camera around, focusing on his girlfriend who was putting some mascara on her eyelashes, "Here's my beautiful girl, who takes ages to get ready. Say hi baby."

"Hi everyone," his girlfriend waved, laughing, "I'm not taking ages, I'm just making sure I look good."

"You always look good for me," Lando said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before turning the camera back to himself, "See, I told you she's the best."

The next clip showed Lando and Oscar together once again, this time they were giving a tour around the McLaren hub.

"This is my driver's room," Lando said as he opened the door, "It's cleaner than Oscar's, clearly, and looks like I have a bed."

Lando moved to put together the small bed that was behind the door, "This is an upgrade from last year, we didn't have this. I'll be definitely giving it some good use, to nap or with my girlfriend."

"Can we have a video where you're not a horndog please?" Oscar said, putting his hands on his hips.

"You're the horndog, I never said what we were going to use it for, we're just going to cuddle."

The video moved to show one of Lando's post race interviews after winning the Miami GP, he had been asked ho would be the most excited person about this win besides him.

"My girlfriend, definitely. I couldn't have done it without her," Lando said, his voice filled with emotion, "She's been my biggest supporter, my inspiration, and my motivation. This win is as much hers as it is mine."

The video then cut to a scene from Lando's gaming stream with Max Verstappen. The two drivers were deep into a game of Call of Duty, their banter and laughter filling the screen. Lando was focused, his eyes glued to the monitor as he coordinated with Max.

Just then, Lando's phone buzzed on the table beside him. He glanced at the screen and his expression softened, the comment section noticing, "Hey, mate, I need to go. My girl needs me for something," he said, setting down his controller.

"Lando! Are you serious right now?" Max said, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"I am, see ya," he turned to the camera, smiling not so apologetically "Sorry, guys, duty calls. See you next time."

The last scene was a snippet from an interview, Lando had been asked what he saw in his future.

He paused, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Honestly? I see a lot of racing, hopefully some championships," he laughed, "but most importantly, I see her. I can't imagine my life without her."

The screen faded to black, showing a text that read: Get you a man who is as down for you as Lando Norris is for his girlfriend.