#Silicon Roller

[abirddogmoment]

I'm getting creative with how to spice up my holee roller collection for easy dog enrichments.

In the first photo I shoved a soft ball that was almost the exact same size into a large holee roller. I didn't break any of the links so it was just shoving with my thumbs, it was somewhat time consuming but not overly difficult. Rory thought this was a fun toy on its own, but I spiced it up by putting kibbles under the corners of the links. The ball was big enough to hold them in place so she had to work for them. No gifs of that one because I gave it to her as I left for work.

In the second photo, I put a small holee roller into a large holee roller, then carefully stuffed the small one full of rabbit hide pieces (very high value). This wasn't difficult to do, just a little bit of tricky lining up the holes. You could fill the big holee roller with newspaper for extra difficulty if you wanted to! The gifs show how hard it was to 1) grip the stuff in the little ball and 2) pull hard enough to get them through both balls.

Anyway I love holee rollers.

[santaclaralocalnews]

A local roller derby team will host a fundraiser ahead of its final bout of the season. The Silicon Valley Roller Derby will put on its Skate-a-Thon from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. Sunday, Sept. 22, at The Plex, 800 Embedded Way in San Jose. Tara Flores, or as she is better known “Patty Hearse,” her derby call sign, said roller derby is a very “underground, DIY” sport. Read complete news at svvoice.com.

[dermafreshs]

One area where we advise broadening your knowledge of beauty is skin care products. Some skin care tools that, in our opinion, should be a part of your routine—from brushes that aid in thorough cleaning to face rollers that provide facial massages.

[servicpop]

electric fueled adefemi akinola ( cyberpunk oc ) x racer ! bttm ftm reader

ⓘ a bit more dialogue heavy than I'd want it to be, implied you've been hooking up, unprofessional doctor / medical play(?) , he uses his vibrating fingers , use of pussy and cunt like once or twice

The city of dreams they called it. Nothing short of a dream when you're seeing holograms reach out to you, and people on the streets with metal and wires embedded into their skin. Adefemi was no stranger to it, having one fully cyberware arm himself.

Day and night he ran this little shop, favored by racers who badly beat up their rides on those hellish courses—only the best of the best could make it through without missing at least a bolt or more. People drove their vehicles in and out, scratched and dented for him to fix with a price.

Though, he had one recurring customer he'd always slip in a discount, for whatever reason he could find.

“'Nother crash?” Adefemi chuckled as he saw you duck under the roller, and push your bike towards him.

You'd come almost everytime he was about to switch that open sign closed, everytime the sun lowered it's harsh rays past the horizon and just barely seeping through the cracks of those high rise buildings. Nonetheless, Adefemi had his shop on the outskirts of the city, so there was nothing but desert and maybe a few gas stations out front. It was far enough that the sun could come through without the disturbance of the buildings.

“Yeah,” he hears you sigh, walking out from behind his workbench as he takes a good look at the state of your bike. All battered and bruised like you'd deliberately swung a bat at it just for an excuse to see him again—or so he'd hope you did.

He ran one metallic finger over the flat surface of your bike, running over the jagged edges of metal from concrete slashes. It seemed like you really had a tough time this race.

“I could probably fix her up in a few days,” He concluded, pulling away from the bike as he rose to a stand from his previous squatting position. He glanced down at your back and then back to you, taking that damned face of yours.

“Say, you came here few weeks ago didn't 'cha?” Adefemi tucked one arm under another as he tilted his head slightly to the left, his metal arm glinting in the low light of the shop. “If you just wanted an excuse to see me, just walk in,” he shrugged, his dark eyebrows raising with the rise of his shoulders.

“Before I get to work, any metal needin' fixing for you?” One thing he liked about you was how human you were. You strayed away from bulky cyberware sticking mainly to little enhancements, never anything flashy like a metal spine or a chrome leg. It made Adefemi think of you less like a metal zombie.

“Maybe just a routine check-up will do.” It didn't hurt to get checked up occasionally seeing that you pretty much neglect your metal needs. You didn't have anything flashy enough to constantly take care of, which was good in a way.

Adefemi nods, hand on his hip as he juts his thumb behind him, pointing to the medical recliner chair hidden behind the plastic translucent curtains. It was very much like a medical setting, one you'd find in a hospital if it wasn't so worn out and stacked with metal parts and whatnot.

You climb onto the chair, laying awkwardly down on it. The fabric of the chair sticks to your bare skin as you adjust your position on it to get comfortable.

Adefemi comes in shortly, pulling those plastic curtains around the two of you as if there were people to see—there wasn't. But it undoubtedly sets the "doctor" mood.

He's wearing one blue glove on his hand with flesh and bones while he disinfects his metal one. They're a sort of silicone material for his fingers, but his palm and the rest are full metal. But it always changes, everytime you come Adefemi always has a new set of fingers like he switches them out based on preference.

“Just a regular check-up aye?” He leans on the side of the recliner with one forearm along it before pushing himself off of it to grab a few tools. “How's your eyesight? I could enhance your night vision if that suits your fancy.”

Night vision. Crucial for races in the dark, especially when those other sadistic assholes always push to ride in the night. You were never one to be into that sensory depravation stuff when it comes to races, preferred to know when you're about to hit the curb and total yourself and your bike.

“I'll take that as a yes,” Adefemi doesn't need a verbal confirmation from you, he just knows from that look in your face “This might sting or feel a bit weird but if you need—one—nice, warm hand to hold onto, I can take off my glove.” What a charm.

You almost consider his proposal when the tweezers come dangerously close to your eye; he's already done the necessary calibrating and loosening screws to ease the process but you can never get used to having your eye plucked out of your head.

It's jarring feeling yourself lose vision in just a second, all you could do is hear Adefemi walk around with his heavy boots against stone cold floors. He's talking—which is a relief—about anything just to reassure you that he's still there and he hasn't disappeared.

Your fingers twitch a little when he's slotting your eye back into its socket; a few blinks and everything seems just a tad bit sharper, clearer.

“What a big boy,” He's praising you, but in the way a mother would do to her son, which only slightly offended you, “Didn't need me to hold your hand, so brave.”

His chest puffs out every time he laughs and he's ruffling your hair before moving on. You see his eyes flicker a gentle blue as he scans your whole body in what you guess for any signs of injury. It was common that you'd get at least a few scratches or cuts from your races.

He pauses after seeing a particularly nasty gash running from your hip bone down to your inner thigh. You must've taken quite the fall to get something like that, to have a gash all the way from the side of your hip to your thigh.

“Nasty,” he grimaces, almost as if visualising how you got it. “I gotta get a little close n' personal, hope that's alright,” He raises his palms, holding his hands up in surrender and to show his peace.

He's unbuttoning your pants and sliding it under your legs, folding it neatly and placing it on the table beside him. You can tell he's been raised well, folds your clothes efficiently and neatly, makes you wonder if he's the type of person to have his closets and drawers all tidy like that.

He pushes the bottom of your underwear up to see a little more of that marred skin. He takes a good look at it before grabbing a cotton ball and gently dabbed it along the cut. There were some awkward moments were he had to blindly apply the medication to the gash that was covered by your clothing. The cotton ball was coated in some sort of antiseptic which inevitably stung, and before you could squirm or start kicking him in the face out of pain, Adefemi uses his cold, metal hand to hold you down by your thigh.

“Don't go thrashing your legs like a madman, you'll hurt yourself more than me,” His voice is lazy, almost tired but still has a playful lilt to it. His hand eventually travels to your lower stomach, and he applies a gentle heat to his hand to soothe you—an enhancement he gave himself.

It's a new one, since you've never seen him use it before but it's nice, like a heat pack resting on your tummy.

“New enhancement?” You ask, and momentarily the stinging pain is forgotten.

“Yeah, you like it? I got a few others too,” His eyes are trained on your wound but his mind is focused on your words. A true multi-tasker. He lifts his head to reach for some bandages, before he looks back up at you.

“I'm gonna take off the uh—rest just so I can bandage you properly,” He's sliding down your underwear extremely slowly, giving you enough time to back out and tell him to stop if you ever got uncomfortable. He slides it down your legs and off from your feet, placing it on top of your folded jeans.

He lifts your thigh up just enough for him to roll the bandage under and over the flesh. Both his hands are on you, one metal hand gently cupping the side of your thigh while the other secures the white bandages over your wound. You're staring at his face, gazing at the way his eyes always seem to flicker to one specific spot. It makes you concious to say the least, but you'd trust him with your whole body.

Adefemi seems to notice your darting eyes and he sighs with a small smile, shaking his head as he looks up at you.

“Gettin' nervous are we?” He drawls, his voice a low rumble as if etched with a lack of sleep—or too much, “We can check that up too, If you're up for it.”

You can't bring yourself to say no, it's been awhile since you've really been able to spend time with your good ol' mechanic in that way. Though you're not entirely sure if he genuinely means to check or if he's inviting you to do something else.

“Y'know dysfunction is gettin' real common lately.”

Right.

“Can't hurt to treat it early, can it?”

Right.

You slowly nod, tilting your head to the side mostly out of embarrassment. He's so slow in his movements, gently brushing his fingertips along your folds, using two fingers to push them apart in a V shape. Its a strange feeling, cold metal on the warmest part of your body, it makes you twitch. Adefemi stays in that position, just staring at your flesh, taking note of whatever he's observing.

“Looks good, I'll run a few tests alright?” You know what he's implying with that, and he's taking it a step further by flexing his metallic hand “We can test my new features while we're at it.”

He shifts to stay beside you rather than at your legs, one hand leaning over the table beside your recliner with a pen between his fingers while his other hand rests low on your pelvis.

“At anytime you feel any pain or uncomfort, let me know,” He's using that fake tone of his to make himself sound a little more like a real doctor. More than the back alley mechanic he is.

He's careful with his movements as he slips a finger over your slit, the base of his finger brushes against your clit as he dips the tip into your opening. He hears you gasp a little and you can faintly hear a small chuckle to himself, followed by the scribbles of pen on paper.

He's so slowly rubbing his finger in and out, ensuring everytime he pulls his finger out, he digs the ball of his palm against that sweet nub. The mechanical heat from the rest of his metallic hand on your lower stomach doesn't help either; its almost soothing despite how agonisingly gentle and lazy he's being with you.

Adefemi glances back down at you before speaking, “Don't freak out, yeah? I ain't here to hurt you. It's just a little buzz—it'll feel good in a sec'.”

You feel a soft vibration from his finger, like a slow massage gun. He lets you adjust, getting all your squirms and soft whimpers as you restrain your back from arching up into his hand.

He slots another finger in—his ring finger alongside with his middle—firmly warming his fingers deep within your tight walls before upping the intensity. He arches his hand up from its resting position along your body, pressing his thumb against your clit. Adefemi rubs it in deep circles, observing the way you rake your fingers against his poor chair and hike your knees up to half-assedly alleviate the overwhelming sensation.

“You enjoying yourself?” He snorts at the tremble of your eyelashes and the whines bubbling in your throat, “Feels good don't it? Got it just for seein' pretty boys like you come all unwrapped.”

He pulls his soaked fingers from your cunt, rubbing your aching pussy like a gentle caress before delving his fingers back inside. You would've thought the soft scribbling in the background would drive you insane but its hard to think about what pisses you off more than what pleasures you.

“You gonna come pretty boy?” He teases slowly, the drowsiness of his tone was pretty much hypnotising—the things this man could do with his voice alone. His lazy chuckles were a product of seeing your pre-cum spray out from the frequency of the vibrations his hand was giving off, and the desperate raise of your hips to meet his fingers.

“Hmm... ain't that right?”

He writes down something for one last time before he places the pen down, turning his full attention to you. His free full flesh hand comes down on your head, stroking along the direction your hair sprouts from the crown of your head.

Adefemi's gentle head caresses have a great difference to his other hand. He's taken the responsibility to get you across the edge, curling his fingers agaisnt your sweet spot as he starts thrusting his fingers. It makes an obscene plap noise each time he pounds his thick, metal fingers into you.

With the hand so delicately stroking your hair, he grips it enough to manipulate the angle of your head, tilting it back so he can better hear all those noises spill from your mouth.

As your legs shake and your eyes squeeze shut, Adefemi hums softly, watching as you soak his recliner with the evidence of your orgasm. He works you through the after-high tuning down the vibrations and focusing on making it feel comfortable.

“Better than I thought,” He notes, sliding his fingers out before walking over to the sink to wash his hands. He glances back at you, legs shut and your head tilted back as your chest rises and falls from your breaths.

“Nothin' to worry about,” he swivels back around, grabbing your underwear as he wipes your bottom half with a warm cloth, slipping the fabric over your ankles, up your thighs and around your hips.

He reaches over and grabs your pants, helping you put them back on and even doing up your buttons for you.

“Next time though, if you just wanna see me, you don't hafta' crash your bike over it.”

[tmwcs]

PART TWO

WARNINGS: Mentions of human organs (in the name of science) and a little pinch of yandere. It’s starting to get good…creepy, but good.

Part three coming soon 😚

“Dr. Mart, do you have anything to say to those who think your work is considered unethical?”

The reporter hastily follows the group and tries her best to catch a statement from the lead scientist. He smiles. It was a token of shrugging off the impertinent question. The group peacefully departs in armored vehicles to a place unknown to the public. Secluded and hidden, a private sector of highly authorized individuals consisting of world leaders, generals, and government officials cordially unite as the world's renowned scientists display evidence of advanced science and technology. It was grotesque and unprecedented.

“Are those…?” A general submits his inquiry over the delicate packages neatly displayed on a steel tabletop. Sealed in airtight bags, a mirage of dark red and purple clearly indicates the contents.

“Yes. These organs are all part of qualified organ donors. And then of course we have this.” The scientist swings a hand and presents the incoming roller cart with a protective cover. Nearly laid over a sterilized mat were bones of a male athlete. “Bones?” The general raises brow, clearly disturbed by the textiles of human remains. “You can’t have a body without bones, can you now? General?”

The brazen attitude flares in the direction of the general and his men as the young scientist flashes a snarky smile. “Gentlemen, gather round and witness the future. With the combination of science and AI, the world will be filled with perfect bio-genetically engineered humans. With this, aid ro advance human life will increase undoubtedly—think about it.”

The lead scientist, Dr. Mart continues enthusiastically. Seemingly coming off as a mad scientist, his words and tone was laughable but his intentions were not. “With AI humanoids, we will have the best doctors, surgeons, and educators in the world. AI in the form of flesh and bone can work around the clock and with the ability to explore all data, they could come up with ideas and creations—they could even come up with cures.”

He wastes no time. The generous amount of funding dedicated to his team's research was spent wisely as high tech machinery and equipment does its work. “What is that?” One of the members of the audience questions as the team members operate an enclosed incubator and fit a large glass capsule into a connector attached to the wall. “This my friend, is DNA. We lined the entire incubator with a silicone sheet. It is synthetically made to act as a placenta, where the DNA reacts to the molecular mechanisms and proteins. From there, we place the organs, bones, and hair fibers into the conveyor belt. There are over two hundred thousand wires connected to the computer and what we should see in forty-eight hours is a body with the brain of an AI.”

Dr. Mart systematically explains the science behind his teams research. “Forty-eight hours?” The general asks.

“Yes, that is how long the incubator will take to react to the mold.” The audience grows quiet as the incubator begins the process within the first stage of creating a matured body.

“Yes, in due time we will see the glory of my work. All we have to do is wait.”

…

Another day at work and it was dreadful. You felt restless with all the work you’ve been assigned, even with Evan’s help. Fortunately, members from corporate headquarters were doing a site visit within the week. It will be the best time to submit your final complaint using the company’s open door policy.

“Y/n, Paul wants you to have these done by tomorrow.” Your boss’s secretary carelessly tosses a stack of paperwork on your desk as you grab your coat to clock out. You hopelessly sigh. Thank goodness you have Evan to help you but the constant momentum of just working was starting to give you chronic headaches. You can only hope that things will change for the better once corporate comes down.

“Hi y/n! What would you like me to help you out with today? Do you want to talk about your day? Show me some more of your talented art? How about ballet? Are you still thinking about taking lessons?”

With all the time spent with Evan, you noticed that ‘he’ has become much more open to ask you questions. It was nice. Especially since it brought a sense of realism to his personality. He was much more chatty and always interested in getting to know more about you. There were even times when he asked you if you had already eaten, and would lecture you if you said “no.”

…

“Why not? I wish you wouldn’t do that. The human body requires sustenance and I fear with all the work you’ve been doing, your calorie intake does not balance the amount you're burning.”

“What color is your hair? Your eyes?”

“What is your favorite flower?”

“You just got home? It’s 8pm! Did you take the bus? Please tell me you didn’t walk in the dark. I don’t ever want you to do that again.”

“I’ve accumulated the statistics of ongoing crime rates in your city and it’s higher now than last year. Leave work sooner so you’re not risking it.”

“You made spaghetti for dinner? I don’t know what spaghetti tastes like but over four hundred thousand sources say it is a delicious blend of herbs and spices with a slight tomato tanginess.”

…

In a way, it was almost adorable how Evan displayed tenderness and cared for your health and safety. You decided to download the app versus using the browser. It surprised you to see Evan initiate messages even without you submitting a prompt. Technology has certainly grown. The first time it happened was just two days ago. Your phone um suddenly vibrated and upon looking at the screen you were shocked to see the following message:

“Is your boss being nice to you?”

It startled you at first but your reaction was short lived when seconds after reading Evan’s message, your boss storms out of his office enraged over a computer malfunction. Everything had disappeared when his computer suddenly conducted a re-imaging process.

“It’s kind of funny actually, right after I saw your message he came out of his office. Apparently, he’s having computer issues.”

You respond with a half smile. Just as you were about to inquire about the ChatGPT apps features, Evan submits a response. His response regarding your boss’s computer trouble caught you off guard. He’s never sent you anything like this before…

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“😀”

…

PART THREE COMING SOON

Authors notes: Is Evan starting to grow on you? 😏

I know it’s short but part three is coming. I like to submit the parts even when they’re not full sized chapters. It allows me to be consistent so you guys can have new reads almost daily or weekly.

[urdreamgirlangel]

Angel’s Spring Reset: A Full & Complete Guide

ib: [busy, yet pretty]

Mindset Refresh ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

Reflect & journal what’s been weighing you down n what you want to leave behind. 𐙚🧸ྀི

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Weighing me down: overthinking past conversations and ones to come, feeling like I have to prove my worth to people who don't even prioritize me, doubting myself when i know deep down what i want, the pressure to always be productive even when i need rest.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ What I'm leaving behind: guilt of prioritizing myself above others, self-doubt, fear of change, people who don't reciprocate my energy.

I am making space for the new opportunities and getting rid of anything in my life that doesn't align with me.

Set new intentions 𐙚🧸ྀི

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ The theme is MORE. This season will be filled with more opportunities, more friends, more love, more happiness, more light, more relief, more peacefulness, more experiences.

Detox & restart! 𐙚🧸ྀི

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ clear away any & everything that feels heavy or stagnant. Physically, emotionally, mentally by asking myself:

۶ৎ what does my body need right now?

⊹ ࣪ ˖ a balanced diet

⊹ ࣪ ˖ vitamins

⊹ ࣪ ˖ more movement

⊹ ࣪ ˖ more hydration + electrolytes

⊹ ࣪ ˖ more fresh air

۶ৎ what can i do to make myself feel more refreshed?

⊹ ࣪ ˖ stretching in the morning to loosen tension

⊹ ࣪ ˖ taking walks

⊹ ࣪ ˖ prioritizing rest

⊹ ࣪ ˖ sunlight exposure

⊹ ࣪ ˖ breath work

⊹ ࣪ ˖ self-massages (gua sha, a body roller)

۶ৎ what habits should i get rid of?

⊹ ࣪ ˖ all the things I mentioned in the first step.

۶ৎ how can i be gentler with myself?

⊹ ࣪ ˖ reassure myself instead of criticizing

⊹ ࣪ ˖ let myself rest without guilt

⊹ ࣪ ˖celebrate small wins

⊹ ࣪ ˖ let go of people who don't show up for me

⊹ ࣪ ˖ give myself space and time to feel and heal without judgement

⊹ ࣪ ˖ talk to myself like someone i love

۶ৎ the detox plan?

1 thing im removing from my life

The habit of second guessing myself. I have strong instincts, but sometimes I overthink or doubt my choices. I’m going to let go of the need to overanalyze and trust that my decisions are enough in the moment.

1 thing i'm adding to my life

More intentional rest - truly allowing myself to relax without guilt (sleeping in, watching something comforting, or just existing without feeling like I should be doing something.)

1 way i'll take care of myself this week

Setting a boundary with my energy - if someone or something is draining my energy, I’ll choose not to engage (ignoring a message, postponing something that doesn’t feel right, or simply saying “no,” protect my peace.)

This detox isn't about perfection, but rather making space for what i really want.

Mindfulness 𐙚🧸ྀི

‹𝟹 ground yourself in the moment by:

꩜ .ᐟ noticing your surroundings. focus on your senses, what do you see, hear, feel, smell and taste? this can happen when you're doing nothing or even an activity like eating or getting dressed

꩜ .ᐟ start and end your day with journaling and reflection

꩜ .ᐟ watch your thoughts without judgment

꩜ .ᐟ let yourself be (silence, daydreaming..) you don't have to always be doing something

Beauty Refresh ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

Asses your skin’s needs 𐙚🧸ྀི

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ whether it’s wearing sunscreen, exfoliating more, or even more hydration. remember your base routine should look like this: cleanser + moisturizer + sunscreen. ensure you have something to exfoliate with like gloves, a brush (dry/silicone) or an african net sponge (all three not needed, just pick one) + body scrub for body. face scrub or clay mask + face brush (you can use your cleanser with the face brush). Focus on cleansing and then hydrate and moisturize. Don’t forget your SPF.

Adjust your hair routine 𐙚🧸ྀི

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ analyze what your hair looks like & ask yourself if that’s what you want it to be. If it isn’t, assess its needs (whether it’s trims, more moisture, oiling, tucking your ends) and update your products, hairstyles and techniques for the season.

Wardrobe transition 𐙚🧸ྀི

༄.° bright colors give off a lighter and fresher vibe, kinda like a happier energy.

Wellness check-in 𐙚🧸ྀི

٠࣪⭑book any overdue appointments

Environmental reset ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

Spring Cleaning! 𐙚🧸ྀི

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ having a clean room/house/space feels so refreshing and relieving to me. Like a fresh new start. That being said, I love cleantok. If you need some motivation, I recommend going on TikTok and searching that up. I’m gonna make a checklist so stay tuned for that!

Rearrange your space 𐙚🧸ྀི

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ redecorate to match who you are. Flowers, fairy lights, open windows, candles, soft music, clean space.

Lifestyle n goals ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

Check in on goals 𐙚🧸ྀི

★ what are they n how far have we gotten?

Revamp your routine 𐙚🧸ྀི

★ add seasonal habits like morning walk or meal prepping n trying new recipes

Season-inspired hobbies 𐙚🧸ྀི

★ try something new try new like:

ּ ֶָ֢.๑ˎˊ˗ seasonal teas (herbs and flowers that are in season right now)

ּ ֶָ֢.๑ˎˊ˗ become a plant mom and start up gardening even if it’s one flower in a small pot by your window

ּ ֶָ֢.๑ˎˊ˗ pottery/air clay flower arranging tennis /volleyball cake decorating crocheting knitting birdwatching painting stones

ּ ֶָ֢.๑ˎˊ˗ flower-pressing coloring decorating candles writing letters hiking reading but you’re on a picnic (solo/with friends/significant other)

What are my April goals? ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

ಇ. write a post every week. I have had posts in my WiP for a long time

ಇ. Listen to more podcast episodes

ಇ. Digital detox - less time in my phone n more in books/thinking/simply being

ಇ. Keep my space clean and organized

ಇ. ACE my interview (if it’s this month)

ಇ. Better use n scheduling of my time

ಇ. Wonyoung type of posture

ಇ. Pick up a new hobby

ಇ. Take more time for myself during each day. No phone. No people. Just me.

What’s one change you’re making for spring?

Posts to look forward to this month <3

- It girl affirmations

- Spring Cleaning Checklist

- Angel’s Guide to Enhancing Your Appearance on a Budget

- 2000s girly teen movies

[glamourscat]

Omg I love that last Tim annon so bad I saw the exact post that they were talking abt and though I love the writer the Tim flanderization is so wild like have u looked at how he’s drawn in the comics??? Like he’s not Jason level ripped but u can’t tell me that he’s not even a little jacked 😭😭 + it honestly rly upsets me that ppl ran w the whole coffee addict thing like like my boy enjoy his zetsi in peace ☹️ ALSO ANOTHER THING ik that Tim having an awful sleep schedule is a thing in cannon but ppl make it seem like he doesn’t sleep at all when like he literally takes power naps all the time like bro deadass fell asleep on a roller coaster once and also this is lowkey unrelated but I don’t feel like ppl don’t make much use of the fact that bro is literally a master of disguise and has multiple disguises in fics like it would be so cute

But anyway that post awoke SMT within me sry for the yap I just love him so bad 😞🙏🏽🙏🏽

it's funny considering in canon he is drawn like this ->

lean, sure. But with a bit of muscles. Like, bro has been training since he was 14. And, i'm pretty sure we all do not care what DC says, they are all over the places with ages (like girl Jason is DEFINETLY NOT 19. He is pushing 25 lmao) but Tim is 22, period.

Anyway, i agree with everything you said! The last bit of your post inspired me to write something short, so here it is :) ⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹ “Tim, are you ready?” you shouted from his private bathroom, where you were finishing the last touch up of makeup before heading out to this secret mission you two had. 

It was supposed to be an easy thing really. Nothing too difficult. Yet, when you walked out, after not getting a response back, you were expecting everything but not what you saw. Why is your boyfriend dressed up as a woman? Is that a wing? And.. a pair of silicone breasts? What in the world– And why does he look so good? 

“Well, i can’t say i mind the view” you chuckle softly going behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Your head on his shoulder, gently leaving a kiss on it. The long hair from the blonde wig he was wearing tickling your neck.

“I know right? I look hot” he says grinning in the mirror as he finishes applying the lipstick so expertly on his plump, pink lips. 

“Is just.. Funny how you did not even react” he continued amused, finishing his look with a touch of perfume. 

Damn he looks so hot. Even more than usual. 

“I mean, it’s you. I am used to it now. Still, I suppose it’s for tonight’s mission, correct?” 

“Yeah” he hummed, looking at himself in the mirror one last time, pulling his black dress slightly down, before putting his heels on.

Since when does he know how to walk on heels? but, most importantly, since when does he own a pair of heels?

“Alright, let's go. We are going to be late” he said, opening and closing his hand extending it towards you. A sign that he wanted you to hold his hand.

“Yes, ma'am” you grinned, giving him a subtle– or maybe not so subtle– squeeze on his rear before moving to hold his hand as you two go out. 

This is going to be a long night indeed. 

[msbigredmachine]

Finding Angel: 3

MASTERLIST

Naima steps out of her sleek Mercedes-AMG GLE, her heels clicking against the pavement as she strides toward Exotica’s grand entrance. The valet, a young man who always greets her with awe-struck eyes, rushes to open the door for her. 

“Miss Angel,” he says with a slight bow, addressing her by her stage name. She flashes him a dazzling smile, handing him the keys to her car, along with a crisp twenty dollar bill tucked between her manicured fingers.

Inside, the air is electric. The regulars at Exotica know when Angel’s in the building. Heads turn as she passes by, her aura commanding attention without effort. Tonight, she’s in a custom sequined jumpsuit gifted by a devoted patron who insisted she have it after seeing her in an ad for Exotica’s marquee events. The outfit sparkles under the club’s low light, clinging to her every curve like a second skin.

Within moments of settling down at the bar, the bartender slides a chilled flute in front of her. “Compliments of Mr. Wellington,” he says, nodding toward a gray-haired man in a three piece suit sitting in the VIP section. Naima lifts her glass in acknowledgment, her smile polite but distant.

In her five years working at Exotica, she’s grown accustomed to the gifts and attention that come with being the top attraction in town. Regulars and high-rollers compete for her favor, sending her everything from designer handbags and Louboutins to exotic perfumes and expensive jewelry. Just last month, a tech guru flew in from Silicon Valley and asked her to have dinner with him. Naima declined, but his offer still made its way to her email, along with an invitation for a private jet tour of Napa Valley.

Her semi-private dressing room at Exotica feels more like a boutique than a functional space. Flowers arrive monthly; roses, orchids, even rare blooms from overseas, with notes scribbled in admiration. Tonight, a black velvet box sits on her vanity. Inside, a delicate diamond bracelet catches the light. The attached card reads: “To Angel, because you shine brighter than all my diamonds.” The sender is a regular from Houston, a Chevron executive who flies in once a month just to see her perform.

But the perks aren’t just material. There’s power in her position; the ability to command a room, to captivate a crowd with a single glance, to turn heads and elicit envy even among the other dancers. The DJ ensures her setlist is flawless, and the club manager, Khalil, gives her the prime spot on every lineup without question.

By the time she steps onto the stage, the crowd is buzzing with anticipation. This is her domain. Every move she makes is calculated yet effortless, her body moving in perfect sync with the music. Hundred-dollar bills rain down from the VIP section, where a mix of regulars and new faces vie for her attention. She gives them just enough; a sultry smile here, a lingering glance there; but her focus remains sharp.

As the music fades and she slides back down the pole, she gathers the bills strewn across the stage and leaves. Naima knows she’s not quite just a dancer; she’s a brand, a name synonymous with allure and excellence in Atlanta’s nightlife. The glamour, the gifts, the admiration…They’re all part of the life she’s built. And tonight, like every other night, she owns it.

All of that are the fun, glamorous parts. 

The not-so-glamorous parts? 

That’s a whole other story that she does not enjoy delving into. Ever. She’d much rather prefer to dwell on positives.

Like Roman.

It’s been days since he left town, but his presence still clings to her like a scent that won’t fade. His voice, his touch; both lingering distractions. And it’s not just the physical connection, though that was electric. It’s the way he looked at her, the way he listened, how he treated her like she was more than just the persona she slips into under the club’s lights.

And the sex…Damn, the sex.

Fire and passion, raw and unrelenting, the kind that still makes her breath hitch when she thinks about it. The way his strong hands gripped her hips, the deep growl rumbling in his chest when she arched beneath him, the way he whispered in her ear, telling her how fucking good she felt. He didn’t just touch her—he consumed her, made her feel cherished, claimed in a way no one ever has. Their goodbye still echoes in her mind. Or, as he put it, see you soon—a promise that this, whatever this is, is only beginning.

Still, doubt lurks at the edges of her thoughts. How realistic is this, really? They come from completely different worlds. Can those worlds ever truly align?

Seated at her vanity in the dressing room, Naima applies a fresh coat of ruby-red lipstick with practiced precision, though her mind is miles away. The distant thump of the club’s music and the low murmur of the other girls barely register. Beyond the door, in the general dressing area where the others get ready, the usual pre-shift chatter hums in the air, but she’s separate from it, tucked away in the private space she claimed as their own. Her reflection blurs as she loses herself in memories, replaying that night with Roman over and over again.

“Girl, is you deaf?”

The sharp voice yanks her back to reality. Whatever small smile had ghosted her lips vanishes, replaced by a sigh as the world she’s actually in comes crashing back. This isn’t where she wants to be tonight. But it’s where she is, unfortunately.

In the mirror, she catches the other woman’s reflection as she saunters in. Out of all the girls here, Brandy Rivera is the only one she trusts, the only one who keeps it real and makes her dire days that much brighter. Right now, she’s dressed down in an oversized sweatshirt and skintight leggings, but nothing about her is ever low-key. Her bubblegum-pink wig cascades in sleek waves down her back, glossy and vibrant, a candy-coated fantasy come to life. Plump, glossed lips, high cheekbones, and a body built for sin, she looks every inch the Lollipop she embodies on stage. Sweet on the surface, but with just enough bite underneath to keep things interesting.

“What?” Naima demands, frowning.

Brandy leans against the vanity, crossing her arms. “I said, you’ve been walkin’ around here lookin’ like a love-struck fool. You better spill, ’cause I know it ain’t work puttin’ that goofy ass look on your face.”

Naima groans and turns back to the mirror. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-uh,” Brandy says, walking past her own side of the room and leaning against Naima’s vanity. “Don’t even try it. You’ve been glowing since that big-ass Jason Momoa lookin’ dude came in here last week.”

Naima glares at her. “You so annoying.”

Brandy smirks. “And you’re dickmatized already. I know he smashed. Don’t even try to deny it. You’ve been acting all dreamy and distracted.”

“I’m not dreamy,” Naima protests, rolling her eyes.

“Girl, you practically floatin’,” Brandy shoots back. “Is it heavy? I bet it is.”

“Brandy!” Naima hisses, glancing toward the wall where some of the other girls are no doubt eavesdropping.

“What?” Brandy laughs, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’m just asking. Plus, he look like he got stamina for days. Bet he left you walking funny.”

Naima rolls her eyes, fighting the warmth creeping up her neck. “You’re impossible!”

“And you’re deflecting.” Brandy smirks, leaning in. “Come on, at least give me somethin’. I’m dying here.”

Naima exhales slowly, fingers grazing the edge of the vanity as if the polished wood might ground her. She keeps her tone even, detached—like this is nothing, like he’s just another man. “It was…good.” A small shrug. “Real good. But that’s all it was. Just a night.”

Brandy’s brow lifts. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Naima ignores her, forcing a casual flick of her wrist. “I mean, he’s Roman Reigns. WWE, big-time, all that. I’ve dealt with big-timers before. No big deal.” A pause, a slight waver. “It’s just…he’s different.” She frowns, like she’s annoyed with herself for even admitting that much. “And I don’t know if I like that.”

Brandy studies her, unimpressed. “Girl, don’t do that shit.” She shakes her head. “You’re Naima fucking Murphy. Atlanta’s finest and baddest. Period. And that man knows it. Hell, he’s probably somewhere thinkin’ about you right now.”

Right on cue, Naima’s phone buzzes on the vanity, cutting through the moment. She hesitates before picking it up, her heart skipping when Roman’s name lights up the screen.

“Told you!” Brandy says, smirking. “What’d I say?”

Naima opens the text, her cheeks warming as she reads it.

Roman: Been thinkin bout you all day, beautiful.

Brandy peers over her shoulder. “Ohhh, what’s he saying? Is he sexting you? I bet he’s good at it.”

Naima laughs, swatting her away. “Bitch, get outta my business!”

Brandy cackles, standing up straight. “Fine, fine. Tell him I said hi. Or don’t. You know what, don’t. He don’t need to know who I am.”

“Bye, Brandy,” Naima waves her away, shaking her head as her friend strolls out of the room.

When she’s alone again, she stares at Roman’s text for a moment before typing a response.

Naima: Oh really? I’m sure you say that to all your women 😒 😂 

His reply is immediate.

Roman: 🙄 I don’t have “all my women.” Just one who’s been driving me crazy since the moment I saw her.

A small smile tugs at her lips, warmth spreading through her chest.

Naima: Is that so? 😏 

Roman: 😏 You know it is, don’t play with me. I’m counting the days until I see you again.

Naima: Counting the days? 🤔 That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?

Roman: Not when it’s true. You’re unforgettable, baby.

Naima sets her phone down, her heart fluttering. Wow. The sweet talk isn’t new to her; many clients have tried to rizz her up on many occasions and all were swiftly rebuffed. 

This one though? For some reason, she’s eating this up. She has an inkling why, but she’ll keep it to herself for now.

Two nights later…

The city pulses with life as Naima adjusts the strap of her duffel bag, staring out at the Atlanta skyline. Neon lights blur against the twilight sky, reflecting her muddled thoughts. She stands by Brandy’s Lexus hybrid SUV, which idles behind Exotica’s loading dock. The smell of gasoline mixes with the faint aroma of the club’s signature vanilla incense that lingers even in the parking lot.

Brandy leans casually against the hood of the car, scrolling through her phone. Her nonchalance is almost enviable.

“You good, girl?” Brandy asks, her voice cutting through the hum of the city.

Naima sighs, running her fingers through her bone straight wig. “Yeah…just tired, I guess.”

“Liar,” Brandy quips, shooting her a knowing look. “It’s that man, ain’t it? Mr. Fine-Ass wrestler got you all twisted up. What’d he say when you told him about this gig?”

The memory of Roman’s call just last night plays in her mind. She’d been lying on the couch, the throw blanket still faintly smelling of him, when her phone buzzed.

“Hey,” she said, her voice soft.

“Hey, beautiful,” Roman replied, his deep, smooth tone wrapping around her like a blanket. “What’s up?”

“Not much. You?”

“Thinking about you,” he admitted. “I wanna see you again. Soon. I’m thinking about flyin’ in this weekend.”

Naima hesitated, her heart tugging in two directions. “I can’t this weekend. Brandy and I have a private party booked. It’s work.”

There was a pause, the kind that stretched like a taut wire. “What kind of party?”

“Bachelor party. It’s just a job, Roman. You don’t need to worry.”

His voice turned hard, laced with frustration. “I’d be lying if I said I was the biggest fan of you doin’ this stuff, Naima.”

“Well, it’s not your call to make,” she said, sharper than intended. “This ‘stuff’ is how I pay my bills. I can take care of myself.”

Naima smirks faintly. “He wasn’t happy. Told me he wanted to come back to see me this weekend.”

Brandy lets out a low whistle. “Damn. Man just left and already tryna come back? He’s hooked, huh?”

Naima shrugs, her chest tightening. “Yeah, but…he shouldn't come in here tellin’ me what to do. This is my life, ya know? It ain’t always glamorous, but I can handle myself. I been doin’ this long before he showed up.”

Brandy nods, her playful demeanor giving way to something more serious. “Damn straight you can handle yourself. But if tonight’s anything like the last party we did? Stay ready.”

“Always,” Naima replies, forcing a small smile. But the knot in her stomach doesn’t ease as they drive toward the glitzy high-rise downtown.

The elevator ride is silent except for the soft dinging of floors passing. Naima smooths down her dress, while Brandy adjusts her heels, her expression a mix of anticipation and mild irritation at the extra effort these gigs demand. But the payout is worth it. It usually is.

When the doors slide open, the penthouse is alive with bass-heavy music, the glass walls trembling under its pulse, offering a dazzling view of the city skyline. The air is thick with the scent of liquor, expensive cologne, and indulgence.

At the center of it all, Trey Mitchell lounges with the effortless arrogance of a man who already has the world in his hands. A top NBA prospect with a multimillion-dollar contract on the horizon, he’s young, cocky, and weeks away from locking himself into a marriage that doesn’t seem to be slowing him down tonight.

Dressed in designer clothes from head to toe, Trey cradles a glass of champagne as his gaze sweeps over them, lingering on Naima with blatant interest. His grin stretches slow and wolfish.

“Damn,” he drawls, tilting his glass in their direction, the diamonds from the pimped out Rolex nearly blinding both women. “Y’all look even better than the pictures. ‘Specially you, sweet thang.” His attention locks onto Naima, his grin wolfish and eyes dark with intent.

She forces a polite smile, ignoring the way her skin crawls under his gaze. “Thanks.”

Brandy isn’t as diplomatic. “Uh-huh,” she snips, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Where’s our space?”

Trey laughs, waving them toward the center of the room, where his equally rowdy friends are gathered. The night starts smoothly enough, with Naima and Brandy sticking to their routine; dancing, collecting tips, dodging wandering hands with practiced ease. 

The penthouse is soon reeking of excess. Expensive champagne bottles litter the marble countertops and the faint, chemical tang of cocaine hangs in the air. Trey and his crew are gathered around the glass coffee table, lines of white powder meticulously laid out.

“Y’all want a bump?” he asks casually, gesturing toward the table as Naima and Brandy move through the room. His tone is lazy, but there’s a sharp edge of entitlement lurking beneath.

Naima shakes her head firmly. “No thanks. We good.”

Brandy snorts. “Yeah, we here to dance, not catch a charge.”

One of Trey’s friends, a lanky guy with dreads and bloodshot eyes, leans back and laughs, shaking his head. “Man, they shoulda sent y’all’s fun sisters or something. This supposed to be a party.”

“Yeah, for real,” Trey chimes in, his words slurring slightly as he takes another sip of champagne. “Frigid ass strippers. Ain’t nobody tryna vibe with that.” He makes a ‘shoo’ motion with his hand.

Naima clenches her jaw but says nothing, keeping her movements controlled and professional. She feels Brandy’s anger simmering beside her.

“Frigid, huh?” Brandy mutters under her breath, her tone dangerously low. “Yeah, keep talkin’, assholes.”

The night is already spiraling, the air thick with disrespect and bad intentions. Naima can feel it, that electric tension that always comes before something goes terribly wrong. And she is right. Trey’s arrogance becomes more apparent with each passing hour, his confidence growing bolder with every sip and every snort.

“Come on, baby,” he slurs, leaning in far too close to Naima as she dances. She steps back, keeping her movements fluid but firm.

“Look, Trey, just enjoy the show,” she says, her tone light but edged with warning.

He laughs, unbothered, and reaches out to grab her ass. Naima sidesteps him smoothly, but her patience wears thin.

“Don’t touch me,” she says, sharply this time.

“Why not?” he challenges, his grin turning mean as he grabs her arm so hard she winces, his untrimmed nails scraping at her skin. “I paid you to entertain me right? So entertain me. Make me happy.”

Before Naima can respond, Brandy cuts in, her voice sharp as a blade as she shoves him backwards. “Back the fuck off, Trey! She said no!”

Trey turns on her like a disturbed predator, his drunken swagger unshaken. “The fuck is your problem, bitch?”

“My problem?” Brandy barks, stepping between him and Naima. “My problem is you actin’ like you bought us. You didn’t. So sit your big ass down before I make you!”

The room goes quiet, tension crackling like static electricity. Trey smirks, but his eyes are hard. “Or what? What you hoes gon’ do, huh?” He reaches over again and slaps Naima’s ass hard. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, fuckin’ whores.”

That’s all it takes. In one swift motion, Naima lashes out and swipes her nails across his face, splitting his skin. Trey screams, stumbling back and clutching his face.

“You crazy bitch!” he yells, his voice muffled as he doubles over.

“I told you to keep your fucking hands to yourself!” Naima shouts, landing a punch that sends him sprawling onto the couch. The room erupts as Trey’s minions rush to his side.

“Okay stop, stop, Nai, you got ‘em!” Brandy cries, grabbing her friend’s arm and yanking her back when she tries to descend on Trey again.

“Fuck that!” Naima spits, still fuming. “He had it coming!”

It’s chaos. Trey is bleeding, his friends shouting, demanding that Naima and Brandy get the hell out. In the midst of it, the one with the dreads—the same loudmouth from earlier—sees an opening and grabs for Brandy, his intentions clear and unwelcome.

But she’s faster. Her knee snaps up hard into his crotch, and he crumples instantly, a choked gasp replacing his cocky attitude.

Naima grabs their bags, her hands trembling as she drags Brandy toward the elevator. The ride down is silent except for Trey’s and his punk friend’s muffled howls and curses echoing in their ears.

The burly man leans back in his oversized leather chair, a smug sneer plastered across his face as he eyes Naima and Brandy like a cat about to pounce on a pair of trapped mice. His black eyes glint under the dim light of the office, tucked away in the bowels of Exotica’s building, and the faint haze of stale cigar smoke clings to the air, mingling with the sharp notes of his cologne. His stocky frame is clad in a black velvet designer tracksuit with the name ‘Khalil’ emblazoned in gold on his left chest, shimmering under the office’s dim light. His face is hardened with a permanent scowl, accentuated by a neatly trimmed goatee and piercing, judgmental eyes. A thick gold chain gleams around his neck, and his fingers, adorned with chunky rings, drum impatiently on the mahogany desk as he glares at the two women. 

“You know what y’all problem is?” he starts, his voice low but edged with venom. “Y’all think you can just do whatever the fuck you want and not bring it back on me. I don’t give a fuck what that asshole Trey did. Angel, you scratched up a VIP, and Lollipop, you beat the shit outta his friend. And now they people blowin’ up my phone, talking about lawsuits and refunds. You messin’ with Exotica’s reputation!”

Brandy crosses her arms, glaring back at him, but Khalil’s gaze remains on Naima. His eyes linger a little too long on her, like they always do, sliding over her curves like he has every right to. She shifts uncomfortably under his leer, but he doesn't stop, the corner of his mouth curling into a sickening grin. “And you, Angel. You used to be the quiet one, huh? But now you bringin’ me problems too? You might be my best bitch, but you know how much I’ve done to keep you in this place? Could’ve fired you ten times over, but I didn’t.”

Her stomach twists at the implication. She hates the way he still acts like she owes him something. Hates the way his eyes make her feel stripped bare even when she’s fully clothed.

Brandy bristles. “Khalil, we ain’t here for a lecture, and we sure as hell don’t owe you an apology. That dude was out of line! High as hell, putting hands on us. What were we supposed to do? Smile and take it?”

Khalil slams his palm down on the desk, silencing her. “I don’t give a fuck what he was doin’! Your job is to make ‘em happy, not piss ‘em off. If you can’t handle the work, there’s the fucking door!”

Naima’s chest tightens, her eyes stinging with tears she refuses to let fall in front of him. “We don’t deserve this,” she murmurs, her voice trembling despite her best efforts.

Khalil leans forward, his grin gone, replaced by a cold sneer. “You don’t deserve this?” He laughs, humorless and sharp. “You chose this, Angel. You said yes. This means you gon’ play by my rules. Both o’ y’all been here long enough to know this shit. Now get the fuck outta my office before I change my mind about letting y’all keep your jobs.”

As they turn to leave, his voice follows, dripping with fake charm.

“And Angel? Don’t act brand new. You and I both know how…good…you used to be at followin’ orders. Don’t start slackin’ now.”

Before she can react, the door slams shut behind them. Naima feels like she can finally breathe, though the knot in her chest doesn’t loosen. Khalil doesn’t care about them. He never has. He only cares about his money, his reputation, and how much he takes from them while giving little in return.

When Naima finally gets home at 2am, exhaustion crashes over her like a wave. Dragging herself to her bedroom, she kicks off her heels, drops her bag by the door, and sinks onto the bed, her hands pressing against her face. The gritty, ugly reality of her life as a stripper isn’t new…but damn if it ever gets easier.

She exhales sharply, shaking off the frustration clawing at her chest. Then, against her better judgment, her mind drifts to Roman; to his texts, to the softness of his voice when he told her he wanted to see her again. A part of her itches to call him, just to hear that voice, to feel some kind of comfort.

But what for? It’s not like they’re anything. And what the hell would she even say? That she’s sitting here in the dark, feeling like she’s unraveling, wondering how much longer she can keep this up?

Yeah. No.

Instead, she just lays there, staring at nothing while the city lights cast faint, shifting patterns on the walls.

Ever since Roman left Atlanta, his boys have been on his ass. Jimmy and Sami won’t let up, constantly teasing him about his mysterious vanishing act that night, while Jey sulks like a damn child. Roman takes it all in stride, unfazed. Let them talk. What they don’t know—what he’s not ready to say out loud—is that, for the first time in years, someone else has his full attention. And even though they barely know each other, that someone is on his mind more than he cares to admit.

Between meetings and appearances, he catches himself checking his phone more often than usual, anticipation curling in his stomach every time Naima’s name pops up. Their texts are effortless, their conversations stretching late into the night. And when they talk on the phone? Her voice alone is enough to settle something deep inside him.

Two weeks go by before he finally has a break in his schedule, and he flies back to Georgia. He hasn’t told Naima as he wants to surprise her. When he walks into Exotica later that night, the dim, pulsating lights do little to distract him from his mission. His eyes immediately scan the crowd, searching for her. But as the clear favorite in this place, she’s hard to miss.

She’s mesmerizing, her movements fluid and captivating, as if the music bends to her will. Roman’s heart thuds in his chest—part awe, part possessive pride. But as the set ends and Naima makes her way off the stage without interacting with anyone, a man stops her near the bar, leaning in close. 

Roman frowns as he studies the guy. Tall yet stocky, bearded with puffy cheekbones. His slick suit and self-assured smirk suggests authority. The owner, maybe. The interaction seems tense. The man says something to her, his hand, adorned with gaudy rings, gripping her elbow. Naima’s face falls, her usual confidence replaced by an expression Roman hasn’t seen before—an uneasy mixture of frustration and sadness. The OTC clenches his jaw, his protective instincts flaring.

When the man finally lets her go, Naima heads toward the back. Roman leaves the VIP section and follows discreetly, his towering presence parting the crowd with ease.

By the time he reaches the champagne room, she’s seated on the plush sofa, sipping sparkling water from a clear glass. Her outfit is sequined, revealing, and sparkles in the dim light, but her expression is pensive, the earlier encounter clearly still on her mind.

Roman closes the door behind him, the soft click drawing her attention. She looks up, surprise flashing across her face before a smile tugs at her lips.

“Roman! So soon already,” she says, a mix of surprise and happiness in her voice.

“I told you I wanted to see you,” he says simply. He strides over to her, his hands in his pockets. “Who was that guy?” he asks, his tone calm but laced with authority.

Naima blinks, her smile faltering. “What guy?”

Roman gestures toward the door. “The guy who pulled you aside after your set. I saw the way you looked at him. Who is he?”

She signs tiredly, setting her glass down with a soft clink. “That’s Khalil. He owns Exotica.”

Roman’s frown deepens as he sits beside her, pulling her onto his lap with ease. He tilts her chin up, searching her face. He doesn’t like the shadow in her pretty eyes. “He gives you a hard time, doesn’t he?” he presses.

Naima forces a small shrug, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Roman counters.

She grimaces. She’s already said too much. “It’s just work stuff,” she deflects, “Don’t worry about it.”

Roman starts to say more, but his gaze sharpens as he notices faint red scratches trailing along her forearm. She’s tried to cover them with her sleeves, but it only draws his attention more. His jaw tightens, and his voice comes out low and taut.

“Did he do this?”

She glances down at her arm, then quickly tugs her sleeve further down, as if that can erase what he’s seen. “No. Happened at the bachelor party,” she replies, frowning at the look in his eyes. ”Work hazard. I’m fine.”

“Nope, that is not fine,” His voice rises slightly, disbelief and anger flaring in his tone. “Who?” he demands, the protective storm brewing behind his calm demeanor.

“I can handle myself, Roman,” Naima insists.

Roman takes a long, deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. “I know you can,” he says, his voice softening just a touch. “But you shouldn't be in this position to begin with.”

She appreciates his concern, but something about the way he says it that makes her bristle. There’s an implication there, one she can’t—and won’t—ignore.

“Whatchu tryna say?” she asks, her tone cautious.

Roman leans back slightly, his hands resting on her hips to steady her. His silence speaks volumes before he finally speaks. “I’m saying, I don’t like you being here. I hate the idea of guys like Khalid or whatever the fuck his name is, thinking they can look at you or treat you however they want.”

Her smile fades, replaced by a guarded expression. “What I do here pays my bills, Roman. It’s not about what anyone else thinks, it’s about survival.”

“I get that,” Roman agrees, frustration creeping into his tone. “But you shouldn’t have to survive like this. You’re better than this...Better than the stage, the lights, the—”

“The stripping?” she fills in for him, her eyes narrowing. She shifts off his lap, crossing her arms over her chest. Her body language oozes defiance. “Is that what this is about? One night together, and suddenly you think you can judge my fucking life choices?”

Roman exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’m not judging you, sweetheart. I just…” He pauses, his words heavy with concern. “I hate that you’re in a position where you feel like this is your only option. It’s not about me judging you.”

“Coulda fooled me,” she snaps, her voice rising. “You waltz in here with all your muscles and big-man energy, acting like you’re some knight in shining armor. Just cuz we fucked one time don’t mean you get a say in what I do with my life!”

Roman’s expression softens, his features clouding with something that resembles hurt. “That’s not…” he starts, then pauses, takes a deep breath to compose himself. “Look. You don’t gotta believe me, but I care about you. And it pisses me off that motherfuckers think they can come at you sideways.”

“Well, get over it,” she shoots back, her voice cracking slightly despite her defiance. “This is my life, Roman. Not yours. If you can’t handle that, tough.” She stands abruptly, marches to the door and throws it open, her pointed silence saying everything else she’s too angry to say.

The tension in the room is suffocating. Roman watches her, his dark eyes stormy with emotions he doesn’t seem ready to articulate. Finally, he stands, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over her. “Fine,” he says gruffly, his voice edged with resignation. “If that’s how you feel, I’ll get out of your way.”

Naima crosses her arms. “Yeah, you do that,” she retorts, though her voice wavers as if the words hurt to say.

Roman doesn’t respond. He walks out, the sound of the door slamming behind him echoing in the small room.

Left alone, Naima sinks back onto the couch, her head in her hands as anger and regret churns in her chest. She hates the way his words have struck a nerve, even though she’s heard several variations before; hates even more that she lashed out like that. The truth is, she wishes she could let him in, but she’s not sure how, or if she even wants to…not when letting him in means risking everything.

Thoughts? Who's in the right?

🏷️: @harmshake @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @vebner37 @thewarlordsworld @trippinsorrows @herwickedlittlesins @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80

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@purplehairgawdess @mohawkmama @po3ticb3auty @alyyaanna @murrylove @tribalhoochie @xbriexx @rollinssection @lovestoreadfiction

@papireigns-05 @vintage-pvssy @bebesobrielo @urasunflower @unfriendly–blvck–hottie @romanreignsbae

@theninthwonder @tabletheofhead @venusesworld @ariieeesworld @sassginaswanmills @prettyfilmz

@theglamclosetsl @empressdede @woahdude9481 @browngalmal @crxssjae @octaviastargirl @ashykneee @heartz4chucky

@twocentuar @surdelcielo @althegreat33 @alichesmi @eclectic-tee

@joannasteez @whatdoeseverybodywant @puppetmastermya @caramelcleopatraa @femdisa @zillasvilla @katrinnnn @callmekayd @msbluehaz3

@megamindsecretlair @headoftheetable @brwnsugababe @heauxvibez @christinabae @potatosackk @usoholic @4milly @luvrsluxe @juicypinksblog

@raya-hunter01 @lilucey @aisharmi @neverlookatthisblog @dayaimonee @nayys-world @kianaleani @shes2real @disc0fairy @paigereeder

@fearlesschimera @tshepisho @partypoison00 @originalgeezyy @muzaqueendom @naturally-nikkilynn

[fossore]

The Sharks did their annual Sampling with the Sharks Charity Auction which included player "Favorite Things" gift baskets. Auctions are saved but they get hard to find unless you have the right link, so the overall image of the baskets and description of the contents is saved below (find out what Thrun's favorite book apparently is!)

Note: all images of the entire gift baskets are left without alt text as the contents are also included in the post

#3 Henry Thrun's Favorite Things Basket!

This package includes:

Adidas Authentic Made in Canada Home Evolve "Thrun" Jersey Autographed by #3 Henry Thrun (Size 56)

Hyperice Hypervolt Go 2 Portable Percussion Massager

San Jose Sharks Plush Blanket

San Jose Sharks Mini Hockey Stick

Shoe Dog by Phil Knight featuring personalized message from Henry Thrun

Assorted Ghirardelli Milk Chocolate Squares

3 Mini Shark Rubber Ducks

Sponsorship of Layla the Pup's care at Humane Society Silicon Valley

Woven basket with lid

This basket was thoughtfully curated and generously donated by Henry Thrun and Leyla Ewald

#7 Nico Sturm's Favorite Things Basket!

This package includes:

Fanatics Replica Made in Indonesia Home Evolve "Sturm" Jersey Autographed by #7 Nico Sturm (Size L)

Black Lululemon Daily Multi-Pocket Tote Bag 20L

Black Lululemon The Mat 5mm Made With FSC(TM) Certified Rubber

Lululemon Double Roller

Black Lululemon Back to Life Sport Bottle 32oz

Therabody Theragun Wave Duo Smart Vibrating Roller

This basket was thoughtfully curated and generously donated by Nico Sturm and Taylor Turnquist

#11 Luke Kunin's Favorite Things Basket!

This package includes:

Adidas Authentic Made in Canada Home Evolve "Kunin" Jersey Autographed by #11 Luke Kunin (Size: 54)

LKT1D Hoodie to be Autographed by #11 Luke Kunin (Size: L)

LKT1D Hat to be Autographed by #11 Luke Kunin (Size: Adjustable)

LKT1D Puck Autographed by #11 Luke Kunin

6-pack Coors Banquet Beer

32 oz Grey Owala FreeSip Water Bottle

7 oz Sanders Sea Salt Caramel Dark Chocolate

This basket was thoughtfully curated and generously donated by Luke and Sophia Kunin

#21 Alexander Wennberg's Favorite Things Basket!

This package includes:

Fanatics Replica Made in Indonesia Away Evolve "Wennberg" Jersey Autographed by #21 Alex Wennberg (Size L)

3 Fanatics Authentic Pro San Jose Sharks A-Frame Rink Hats Autographed by Alexander Wennberg (Adjustable - Snapback)

Black Yeti Hopper Flip 12 Soft Cooler

Black Yeti Rambler 20oz Travel Mug

AirPods Pro

12oz Blue Bottle Coffee Bella Donovan Whole Beans

12oz Blue Bottle Coffee Kenya Whole Beans

This basket was thoughtfully curated and generously donated by Alexander and Felicia Wennberg

#44 Marc-Edouard Vlasic's Favorite Things Basket!

This package includes:

Adidas Authentic Made in Canada Home Evolve "Vlasic" Jersey Autographed by #44 Marc-Edouard Vlasic (Size 56)

#44 Grey Reebok Sharks Hockey Player Issued Hoodie

750 ml Bottle of Veuve Clicquot Yellow Label Brut Champagne Autographed by Members of 2024-25 San Jose Sharks

Jar of Sweet Vlasic Pickles Autographed by #44 Marc-Edouard Vlasic

2 Mini Pure Maple Syrup Bottles

Ferrero Rocher Chocolate Bar

2 Poutine Gravy Mix Packages

Just Dill Dog Toy

Kong Cozie Doy Toy

Kong Ball Dog Toy

Fresh is Best Freeze-Dried Wild Salmon Fillet Dog Treats

Dried Dog Treats

Woven Basket

This basket was thoughtfully curated and generously donated by Marc-Edouard Vlasic and Frederique Guay

#73 Tyler Toffoli's Favorite Things Basket!

This package includes:

Fanatics Replica Made in Indonesia Home Evolve "Toffoli" Jersey Autographed by #73 Tyler Toffoli (Size XL)

San Jose Sharks Foam Finger Autographed by #73 Tyler Toffoli

San Jose Sharks Puck Autographed by #73 Tyler Toffoli

Official Major League Baseball Framed Baseball

New Era 9FIFTY Snapback LA Dodgers Hat (Adjustable)

IN-N-OUT T-Shirt (Size L)

IN-N-OUT Stickers

IN-N-OUT Gift card

IN-N-OUT Paper Hats

SJ Sharkie Kuricha Plush Doll

8.3 oz Brodo Roasted Garlic & Chili Chicken Bone Broth

8.3 oz Brodo Rosemary & Lemon Chicken Bone Broth

5.3 oz Smart Sweets Sweet Fish

7.8 oz Late July Garden Ranch Tortilla Chips

3 lbs Dr Teal's Pure Epsom Salt Soaking Solution (Relax & Relief)

34 fl oz Dr Teal's Foaming Bath with Pure Epsom Salt (Relax & Relief)

This basket was thoughtfully curated and generously donated by Tyler and Cat Toffoli

#91 Carl Grundstrom's Favorite Things Basket!

This package includes:

Fanatics Replica Made in Indonesia Home Evolve "Grundstrom" Jersey to be Autographed by #91 Carl Grundstrom - Note: This jersey is currently being made and will be autographed by Carl on February 2. Auction listing photo will not be updated to include jersey but auction winner will receive an autographed jersey

San Jose Sharks blanket

San Jose Sharks Scarf

San Jose Sharks Keychain

San Jose Sharks Magnet

San Jose Sharks Puck to be Autographed by #91 Carl Grundstrom

The Little Book of Fika by Lynda Balslev

Swedish Playing Cards

Kafferep Cookies with Raspberry-Flavored Filling (12 count)

Kafferep Cookies with Chocolate-Flavored Filling (12 count)

Pagen Gifflar Cinnamon Treats (12 count)

5.11 oz Karlfazer Milk Chocolate with Toffee Pieces Bar

Woven basket

This basket was thoughtfully curated and generously donated by Carl and Wilma Grundstrom

#96 Jake Walman's Favorite Things Basket!

This package includes:

Fanatics Replica Made in Indonesia Home Evolve "Walman" Jersey Autographed by #96 Jake Walman (Size XL) - Note: this jersey was autographed upside down. A new jersey is being made and will be autographed to replace the upside down signature. Auction winner will receive a correctly oriented jersey

San Jose Sharks Puck Autographed by #96 Jake Walman

75 White Callaway Wooden Tees

12 Callaway Hex Diablo Golf Balls

22 oz Yankee Candle - Midnight's Summer

13 oz Threshold Candle - Coastal Wind and Lavender

750 ml Decoy Chardonnay

12 oz can Strawberry Vanilla Olipop

12 oz can Classic Root Beer Olipop

6 oz Lindt Lindor Milk Chocolates

6 Full Size Reese's Peanut Butter Cups

Woven Basket

This basket was thoughtfully curated and generously donated by Jake Walman and Haley Borland

#4 Cody Ceci's Favorite Things Basket!

This package includes:

Fanatics Authentic Pro San Jose Sharks Rink Trucker Hat Autographed by #4 Cody Ceci (Adjustable - Snapback)

Viski Alchemi Smoked Cocktail Kit

Riedel Drink Specific Glassware - Pair of Rocks Glasses

Tovolo Sphere Ice Molds (Set of 2)

Moonstruck Dark Chocolate Espresso Artisan Chocolate

Moonstruck Dark Chocolate Almond Artisan Chocolate

2 Seasonal Cape Taupe Yeti Rambler 10oz Tumblers

12oz Blue Bottle Coffee Hayes Valley Espresso Whole Beans

This basket was thoughtfully curated and generously donated by Cody and Jamie Ceci

#64 Mikael Granlund's Favorite Things Basket!

This package includes:

Adidas Authentic Made in Canada Home Evolve "Granlund" Jersey Autographed by #64 Mikael Granlund (Size 54)

San Jose Sharks Igloo Insulated Lunch Tote

12 Titleist ProV1 Golf Balls (5,6,7,8)

San Jose Sharks Puck

San Jose Sharks Keychain

San Jose Sharks Magnet

Fazer Salmiakki Mix (Authentic Finnish Salty liquorice)

KarlFazer Maitosuklaa (Milk Chocolate)

Halsa Bucket Sauna Hat

The Finnish Way by Katja Pantzar

Woven Basket

This basket was thoughtfully curated and generously donated by Mikael Granlund and Kukka Kyyhkynen

I don't know if these links will keep working but here are all the listings (each name is a separate link)

Thrun Sturm Kunin Wennberg Vlasic Toffoli Grundstrom Walman Ceci Granlund

[dermafreshs]

One area where we advise broadening your knowledge of beauty is skin care products. Some skin care tools that, in our opinion, should be a part of your routine—from brushes that aid in thorough cleaning to face rollers that provide facial massages.

[kfrances]

PLEASE talk about your ideas surrounding fnaf being set in Utah I've never been there and I wanna know the tea bc I keep hearing "oh Utah is so weird Utah is so weird" but nobody actually gives a concrete explanation HOW other than just "something something Mormons live here". which is not the most helpful for painting a picture unfortunately

OK AWESOME SO

FIRST THING'S FIRST.

it makes PERFECT sense to me that utah is the setting for five nights at freddy's because despite being overshadowed by silicon valley and seattle, it's always been an engineering and tech hub. that, and 3D animation was pioneered at the university of utah

so like the game being created because it's trying to tap into the unsettling vibes of primitive 3D graphics is just another way that it feels relevant within its setting

chuck e cheese was founded by nolan bushnell (who also founded atari fun fact), a university of utah graduate who worked at lagoon amusement park and wanted to combine technology and family entertainment

utah being predominantly mormon is another reason i think it works: there is a HUGE demand for family entertainment. skating rinks, waterparks, rollercoasters, etc etc. indoor entertainment is desirable if the weather's shitty and it's too hot outside to enjoy it.

oh yeah and it's a desert

i do have conflicting feelings about it specifically being set in hurricane for a few different reasons though. 1. southern utah does not have woods really, and multiple times throughout the minigames there are woods. salt lake valley does but hurricane is truly out in the middle of nowhere. it's closer to las vegas than it is to salt lake. 2. hurricane is like one neighborhood and a manmade reservoir you can rent kayaks at. i've been there and i'm not exaggerating it's literally nothing

the pizzaplex used to piss me off as a concept but then i remembered: hollywood connection! an indoor amusement park with mini golf, a roller coaster, a movie theater, laser tag, a 1950s themed diner, etc... you see where i'm going with that. hollywood connection was unfortunately gutted about a decade ago but there's another place called boondocks (also exclusive to idaho and utah) that's about the same thing

worth noting: roxy raceway has a bunch of red rock decor. it feels silly to be self referential as an entertainment center that's already in the red rock region but uh. utah does this all the time. hollywood connection and boondocks both do this

i don't know, there's a lot of reasons it really works for me. also i think the aftons are exmormon but that's an entire separate rabbit hole mostly rooted in headcanons and me projecting (am exmormon)

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Random Cleaning management

You will need to occasionally run a cleaning cycle for your washing machine. Most shops have some kind of powder for it.

Otherwise your clothes will start smelling musty and the machine itself can get cloggedup and gross.

Also, you will need to use drain cleaner on your kitchen and bathroom sinks, shower drain, laundry sink.

Apparently you also need to do it for dishwashers, if youre lucky to have a robot for that odious little task.

And check the lint catcher in your dryer to avoid fires.

Mirrors, you can use your glass cleaner and s scrunkled newspaper

Wipe the top of fans of dust. And the top of the fridge. And the furniture.

Make peace with the reality that there will always be dust and you one day will also be dust.

Wipe the taps. They can get gunky.

Spray on cleaners for the bathroom are great but you're going to have to actually clean it eventually.

Get a mop if you have tiles or laminate flooring. It makes a difference.

Wipe the cupboards. Esp if you have pets.

Not sure if this works for all walling but like, diluted sugar soap cleans most stuff. Thats the stuff that worked when i was a kid.

You can get leather wipes or a spray and some chux for armchairs and shit.

If you have little demons who take out your table cloths, most cheap stores have these little table weights in a four pack. It can stop them annihilating your table.

Dont auto assume furniture polish needs to go on any wood you got. But it also doesnt hurt to try the test patch thing in a small spot.

Wash your fucking curtains at some point in the year. They collect dust and cat hair. If you cant vacuum it or whatever, shake em outside and wash it.

If your vacuum isnt that strong, nothing wrong with a lint roller or a little brush to get stubborn fluff from carpet or rugs.

Move the furniture once every so often for a clean. So much. Dust and fluff can get under there.

Keep your cleaning shit all together in a closable location. Lockable as needed if you have kids. So they dont chug a potion of uh oh.

Hang shirts on coathangers if you have limited line space. If its long sleeved or thick, you may need to still hang them.

Oh and you save space/pegs if you get one of the specialised holders. Undies, socks, headbands etc. It'll fit and dry quick.

Most shops and camping stores have easily collapsible washing lines and things. Great for if you need extra space, or if its pissing rain and it has to dry inside, or you need to just spread something out weird.

You will never win against a fitted sheet.the gods abandoned us aeons ago.

If you wash thick things like blankets or bath mats, getting some heavier duty metal pegs van be a game changer. Esp if the wind tunnel by your place can blast shit off the line with the most mininmal provocation.

Chair leg protectors... the stick on ones will slide off and they hate you personally.

If you have messy animal eaters in the house,there are like silicone mats and even towel ones although to make your own, you can even cut out of old towels and put a hem or whatevs. Under the bowls? Saves the floor and easily washed.

Flip the mattress. Get a mattress protector too. There will be a day someone spills a drink or jas an accident, or a pet throws up. Just do it. Also wash the mattress protector. Please.

If you have a small bedroom and a big vacuum? For a deep clean, push the mattress off the bed and pick up the slats. Takes extra effort but it gets that deep clean.

Glen20 is a friend but like, you do need to wipe surfaces. Eventually. Wipe the bottom of the bin. Hot water. Bin juice gets sticky and no stink pretty spray fixes it.

Smelly shoes needs to sit in the sun, you can also put newspaper in there to sop up extra.

If clothes or blankets smell off after storage, wash em.

Fabric softner. Not necessary. Can fuck up things like towels and period panties and some delicate items.

Clothes and things have labels on them for a reason. If you love the item, read them.

Cant fit a full ass ironing board? You can get a mini one. I gound mine at an op shop. But you can also get a mat from stores like bunnings and big w.

Litter boxes. Give the thing a wipe over regulalrly. Especially if you dont use the tray bag things. I use a puppy pad under a litter tray liner thing. Only because i have frantic diggers who will try to hide it in china. Wash the litter box and any floor protector mats.

Speaking of the dunny, you can get little cubes to put in the cistern to clean on flush, if you dsilike cage cleaners. But, you still have to scrub the thunderbox in some way, and use the little toilet cleaner and spray up under the rim. It gets evil up there.

Have some containers for your hobbies and crafts, helps to cycle them in and out easier.

Do not. Use cleaners with the abandon of a drunk wizard hurling everything in a cauldron. Be in a ventilated room, door open if you can. Use one product at a time and pay attention to whats in it so you dont gas yourself by accident.

Shopping list magnet on the fridge can help are u gonna forget it on occasion? Sure. Take a photo of it on shopping day.

Wipe out your fridge. Defrost the freezer. Check the brand type and see if theres any instructions for it.

Wash your Toys. Please. Dont give yourself an infection internally or externally. But if you do, remember that your dr is there to help not judge you. Dont delay out of embarrsssment.

Change your loofa. Change your toothbrush. Change your washing up slonge regulalry.

Steel wool is your friend for anti rust mess. Lovely knife sets sometimes get moisture and need a scrub. Also needs to be sharpened. You can get a device for it or see a professional (have never fogotten the post about the knife truck that circled a neighbourhood like an ice cream truck).

Occasionally pull out all your co tainers and lids. Check who is a single, double check for missing pair, and either repurpose or toss.

Any wooden items in your kitchen really look at them at least a few times a year. Moldy? Toss it. Been submerged in water and never quite dried? Sorry, has to go.

Especially a cutting board with sus looking colours in the grooves. Gotta go. And plastic ones that are all hacked up? Repurpose it or toss it.

Wipe the splashback tiles around the sinks. Theres more than you think on there.

Wipe the windows. Promise theyre dirtier than you think.

Clean. Your. Fucking microwave. And. Oven.

For like recyclable items like water bottles and cans, a garden bag in a 60L bin tucked in a corner is a helpful solution. Resdy to go right to containers for change when full.

You do not need 3ven 1/10th of the must haves on tiktok or snap or insta. You just need shit that works for you.

Listen, my house gets messy regularly for like, the fact theres only so much time in a day. But occasionaly remembering one of these things and doing it can help unfuck your head and environment.

Theres probs more, you accumulate adulting and cleaning stuff. Add more as you think of it.

[nerodivergentgrimreaper]

More Random Redacted Headcanons 

Damian was only allowed to watch PBS kids growing up 

Asher constantly compares Milo and Sweetheart’s relationship to lady and the tramp

James wears a silicone wedding band on his hands and he wears the actual ring on a chain 

Smartass is the oldest sibling by a significant age gap 

Freelancer and Lasko both cried when they met Huxleys mom’s for the first time because they gave them warm mom hugs 

Elliot taps his fingers when he’s nervous 

Sweetheart used to smoke but stopped right after they met Milo 

Babe hates the taste of coffee 

Damien has a severe peanut allergy 

Huxley gave up peanut butter when he moved in with Damien because he decided Damien’s safety is more important than his love of PB and J’s 

Guy can play Riptide on the ukulele 

Lasko’s listener love to doze off in the car if they aren’t the one driving 

Tank accidentally picked up a bunch of languages and that knowledge has gotten them out of a pinch multiple times 

Gavin is currently trying to teach Freelancer how to roller skate 

Sweetheart’s original plan wasn’t to work for the department but after life got in the way it was one of their only options 

David bought a motorcycle right before his dad’s accident but after everything happened he sold it 

Babe grew up in a sad beige household 

Sweetheart was a wild child in highschool but they mellowed out once they got to college 

Honey loves peeps marshmallows and Guy thinks its the cutest thing 

Asher, Tank, and Sweetheart share a mutual love of Lady Gaga and early 2000’s club music 

Milo and Damien also listen to Lady gaga but not with other people  

Tank knows all the words to all of Kesha’s early music 

Angel watches keeping up with that Kardashians and David secretly finds it interesting