#it's just a case of continuously reminding employees

[commissionsdarian]

"Temporal Memory Sanitization Clause": This clause supposedly grants employees the right to have memories of classified operations erased for security reasons. Yet, a cunning loophole allows the commission to exploit memory manipulation technology, selectively erasing memories beyond the scope of classified information, effectively rewriting employees' personal histories.

This is also a big one we've been working on

[marilynthornhilllover]

I know that you love me, you don't need to remind me,

Emily. P x Jennifer. J x Fem!Reader

Warning: talk of drug consumption, reader is high, mood swings, use of guns (weed) , bad flirting, mommy kink, praise kink, teasing, cringe kiss etc .

A/n: I saw that new jennifer and emily episode where Emily was high and they were so cute! Had to make a fic😌

It was that quite long awaited time of the year where criminal agents are given two weeks off from work. You were beyond exhausted but nevertheless was very happy to finally be able to take off your FBI vest and feeling relieved that you won't have to be picking it up for another week or so.

You soon realized that you literally didn't have plans arranged for the upcoming two weeks ahead, or even tonight. Everyone was pairing up as they packed up their office stuff and headed out. Spencer and Derek laughed and gave eachother a high five as they made their way downstairs to sign out while Emily and jj were already giggling about some random joke as they continued to pack up.

You nervously decided to walk up to them standing in the corridor like a shadow making sure not to seem creepy— but maybe you were doing the opposite. Ever since you joined the team, yes you did make friends but no one ever went the extra mile to offer to hang out with you. Only Emily would now and then eat lunch with you at her desk.

Jennifer wasn't bad either, she did offer to help you with a case file once, you went over to her house which you complimented her for the cozy interior, and yes the boys were also good to you but on a employee holiday like this no one was paying any attention whatsoever to you. They already plans of their own.

You on the other hand, had none, all you were gonna do was shower, eat, sleep and repeat for the next week or so. Nothing productive, not as if you had anything to do either. Prentiss and Mantegna had insisted that someone help you with case files so its not as if you have a major cade to crack over the holiday.

You were as free as a bird and your energetic self needed something to reinforce that energy into. If you could have went on a cruise for two weeks you definitely would have.

Emily scoffed at Jennifer's joke before turning around and spotting you cuddled up in the corner like a little mouse. She tilted her head to the side before approaching you with a warm smile.

" hey hon, you got any plans for the holiday?" She asked chewing a piece of gum that she had been for the entire day — somtimes you wonder if any flavour at all is still existence in it.

" uhh nope, but I'll sure my couch has plans for me though" you said sarcastically and of course she laughed, because Emily laughs at anything and everything which you did find cute. Emily always made sure that she kept everyone at a level where they felt at their absolute best when around her.

She was never mean to anyone really. Always funny, ambitious, smart and talented she was everything. Sometimes her aura was just too high, but she was always still approachable and not prideful.

Emily was like one of those drugs that you couldn't stop using because it feels too good, and when you do take it, it altars with your entire brain function and chemistry.

And speaking of chemistry, that was something you and Emily had alot of. Everytime her eyes made contact with yours, you felt as if your body was thrown into the deepest pits of hell. You'd get shivers everytime she passed you or called you a pet name. You'd go completely weak in your knees when she made the littlest amount of psychical contact with your skin — it was absolutely ridiculous just how easily she could get under your skin.

Or the time when you were making coffee in the kitchen and she needed to grab something from the top shelf and she moved you by putting her hands on your hips, with her chest pressed so closely against your back with face by your neck.

Emily made you question things. You knew you always had a thing for older women, always, since highschool and it never seemed to go away. And Emily was exactly your type, you just weren't sure if she felt the same way in return and you didn't wanna ruin the amazing friendship you both had by letting your stupid emotions and hormones get the best of yourself.

" well I'm sure you'll find something to entertain yourself, JJ and I are hooking up at her place tonight for snacks and a movie" she placed hands on her hips are she turned to look at jj who was texting away on her phone before turning back to you. You gaved her a akward smile, before a breathy nervous laugh escaped your mouth.

" hooking up huh" you saw as her eye brows quirked before a sly smile came into evidence on her face and quickly glanced at Jennifer who was now angrily texting before taking a step closer towards you, closing the the last gap space that was there. Her body heat and perfume over took your senses making your breath hitch.

You pressed your palm against her chest sneaking a quick glance at jj and the camera above. Emily was looking at you with a teasing smirk, she leaned down besides your ear and whispered.

" do wanna hook up with me as well?" She pulled back to see the reaction on your face and just as she imagined it was absolutely priceless. She chuckled before pulling away completely.

" oh my God emily would you leave poor y/n alone, let's go already" Jennifer said with a tint of exhaustion and annoyance her voice. Emily chuckled before gently caressing your cheek. The both women waved you goodbye before departing and going their way.

You sighed before picking up your bag and leaving, you locked your office door and went home. You did decided to walk with a few case files home and evidence objects to keep yourself busy during the holiday to stop yourself from going insane from the intense boredom you were prone to have.

— — — —

Emily and Jennifer had just sat down and were about to enjoy their late afternoon with wine and salt and vinegar chips when a continuation of loud knocking could be heard on jj's front door. Both women looked at eachother with utter confusion on their faces — the weren't expecting anyone. Jennifer decided to get up and go check the door, Emily following closely behind with her hand placed tightly on her gun.

The door bell soon started ringing along with the knocks which triggered Jennifer even more. Unlocking the door Jennifer threw it open, not caring what stood on the opposite side of it, after all emily was ready to protect her best friend at all cost, even if it meant shooting someone in their foor.

" if I had my way I swear I would—" as soon as she saw you she stopped talking, her eye brows quirked as she squinted her eyes to make a better appearance of your face in the dim moon light. Emily let out a soft sigh when she saw you but quickly went back into a state of worry at the same time.

Now you had both women wondering what you were doing at their house.

" y/n? I didn't know you were coming over, did Emily invite you?" Jennifer turned around hoping to get a confirmation nod from Emily but she shook her head and pursed her lips, letting her know she was just as confused as her.

" Well aren't you guys a bit rude, aren't you gonna invite me in?" You muttered but before they could react you let yourself in. You carefully walked down the long fancy corridor switching off some lights on your way because they made your eyes burn, making your way to the living room area, having knowing your way around jj's house since the last two times you were there.

You stumbled over the coffee table and landed right onto the sofa, face first with a soft groan. You dropped the ziplock bag of cheese puffs you had brought onto the floor.

She walked up to you and you and sat beside you on the couch, she picked you up by both your forearms and made you look at her.

Both women side eyed eachother, both in desperate need to know what on God's green earth was going on. Jennifer leaned against the wall to further scrutinize you. Emily on the other hand was just worried how you got here on your own with no car or phone.

" hey y/n sweetie are you..... drunk?" Her voice sounded like when water got into a phone speaker and you tried to play a song— you couldn't understand it. You rubbed your eyes and glanced at the table to which your face instantly lit up when you saw the salt and vinegar lays chips.

You grabbed them ferociously then took out some chopsticks you had stuffed in the back pocket of your jeans and started eating the chips. At this point both women were flabbergasted, mouths open, jaws dropped. Jennifer took a deep breath before she turned around and went to her fridge to grab you a drink to help you sober up because it was crystal clear that you were beyond drunk, drunk was an understatement.

" what time is it?" You suddenly asked putting the chips down and dusting off your hands.

" time for some hydration, here you go" Jennifer said as she passed you a bottle of cold cranberry juice. Once again your face lit up like a child on Christmas day.

" ohhhh, it's got what plants crave!" You exclaimed. The look on Jennifer's face when you said that was priceless as Emily silently continued to look at you with a completely blanket stare.

You placed the bottle of juice at the side of your head as if it was an ice pack and burped. You cleared your throat before speaking up again.

" have you guys seen that movie! Idiot city!.... wait city Idiot... wait... yeah" it's like your body was replaced with a child's and this called for huge concern. Emily sighed heavily and took the bottle from your hand.

" Idiocracy?" Jennifer whispered and you nodded.

" I knew I liked you! Ohhh, I and on my way here I saw a cat jumping off your house roof then it turned into a dog and flew away as a mosquito" you said before the loudest laugh took you over that you almost started crying.

Emily whispered " oh good lord" before she shook her head, Jennifer was still completely and totally lost for words. Jennifer had a feeling that being drunk would not cause someone to behave like this— well of course she knew, she's a profiler. She had a feeling you were high, but she didn't want you to act out and she would need proof for Emily because knowing her she wouldn't believe for a minute you would do drugs.

" umm y/n what's in the bag?" Jennifer asked and your eyebrows quirked, you placed your finger at you ear urging her to repeat even though she was so damn close to you.

" What's in the bag" she repeated as she dragged her words this time. You shrugged.

" I don't know what time the supermarket closes" emily stood up and walked towards to kitchen to grab her phone, you had the agent stressed. Jennifer just took it upon herself to grab the bag of " cheese puffs" before she walked towards emily.

" look I know you may not believe but I have a pretty good feeling that, that girl right there is literally the profound definition of what we call high" emily scoffed.

" Oh come on, she probably had too much wine I mean weren't we just about to drink wine as well?" She restated trying to convince Jennifer, but honestly to this rate she just couldn't, Jennifer was already convinced from her own opinion.

" emily elizabeth prentiss which wine do you know makes someone this drunk?" Jennifer asked, emphasizing on the last two words of her sentence. Emily shrugged before looking back at you, who was now sniffing the air every two seconds like a curious dog. Jennifer rolled her eyes before opening the bag of cheese puffs and taking a sniff.

She gaged before pulling away quickly.

" this smells like straight up weed!" She swiftly turned to let Emily have a sniff, to which Emily pulled away as well. Jennifer closed the bag and turned it around where there was writing in black. " DO NOT OPEN, CONTAINS CASE 101 EVIDENCE".

" you ate the case evidence! Oh my god!" Jennifer looked like she was going to erupt like a volcano and her high pitched tone of voice was making your head hurt and ears ring.

" I was hungry, and I didn't know that they were edibles" you whispered as you squinted your eyes since it was getting harder to see. Jennifer looked at you in disbelief as she turned to Emily for back up. Before Emily could utter a word Jennifer was already furious.

" Emily, don't even! She basically ate the entire bag!" She shouted. She saided pacing the room with her fingers gently massaging her temple to calm her.

" what are we gonna tell hotch, or even worst David" Jennifer covered her face with her both her hands before leaning over the kitchen counter.

" Well I mean, she probably just ate the backup stash, it should be fine, we should really be worrying about is her health" emily muttered scratching her head. Jennifer looked up at emily as her jaw dropped.

" your defending her?!" Emily raised her hands in defense but before she could reply Jennifer took the chance.

" I seriously cannot believe you right now!" Jennifer once again, started pacing the room, this time even more quicker.

" Oh come on jj, what are the odds that people make silly mistakes like these?" Jennifer stopped, and looked at emily with wide eyes.

" Well with the odds as high as her I'd say zero!" She said angrily before picking up her phone.

Emily sighed before looking over at you who was now eating the chips and gnawing your teeth wildly making crumbs fall all over the place. In a way Emily felt bad for you, mostly pity because she knew what you did was down right stupid but Jennifer was being a tadbit too harsh on you in your current position — knowing you couldn't properly comprehend the situation or what was going on.

" ok I'll take her home and we can speak to the team about this tomorrow when y/n is a better state of mind, ok?" Emily said in a reassuring voice. Jennifer sighed in frustration before biting her lip and nodding approvingly.

Emily carefully picked you up off the couch and wrapped her arm around your waist as she insisted to take you home safely. Her body warmth was comforting and her perfume was like a lullaby putting you to sleep this time. You melted in her embrace as she took you outside.

Your vision was blurred and the cold air on your skin — although you had a jacket on, was making you shiver. Seeing this emily hugged you tighter. She opened the door to her wagon and assisted you into the passenger seat and putting on your seat belt for you. You looked at her, she looked like one of those ancient paintings,the ones you can't withdraw your eyes from, the Renaissance ones.

You weren't sure if maybe it was the drugs or the hormones that came after taking the drugs but you felt the need to kiss emily, your eyes flicked down to her lips that were slightly parted as she concentrated on getting the seatbelt to adjust to your liking. Her smooth skin and wrinkled lines that ran across her forehead and eye line area, her little cute eye bags from all the hard work she does.

You couldn't resist the urge, she was a drug, she was your drug. You licked your lips and leaned in. Your lips connected with hers in a slow soft kiss. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to enjoy the moment. Emily didn't pull away, she was surprised yes, but she didn't pull away. Emily couldn't cover up the feeling she felt for you but she also didn't want to take advantage of your drunken state.

Taking it that she was enjoying it as much as you, you tried to force your tongue into her mouth but that's when she pulled away. Your brows furrowed and for a moment the drugs may have returned your common sense and you realized what you did — what you were trying to do. And soon the embarrassment and cringe settled in.

" sorry, oh God I'm so stupid!" You whispered as you fought back tears, you covered your face with both hands and started sobbing. Emily sprinted around to the drivers seat to comfort you. She gently peeled your hands away from your face, holding your palms in hers she caressed them with her knuckles softly. You sniffed and shook your head in denial before looking out the window.

" hey, sweetheart look at me please" her voice was as soft as an angel and so gentle as if you were something valuable that could be broken, that's something you loved about emily, she was so comforting in all circumstances, no matter what. She placed her hand under your jaw and turned you to look at her. She stared at you with her cute Bambi eyes so filled of love, and she so badly wanted to say " I love you" but she knew you wouldn't be able to comprehend them.

" look y/n, i wanna— kiss you back but I can't. That doesn't mean I don't want to, I just want you to be able to give me your full sober concent." She spoke as slowly and clearly as possible so you won't misinterpret anything.

" and your not stupid, we all make mistakes my love. Once I accidentally— well I got drunk the morning of my Law exams and failed them, and that did set me at a disadvantage for my career but I still made it into this job" she continued to rub your knuckles and wip every tear that fell from your eyes.

" and this joke takes y/n, but it also gives.... it gave—" she took a deep breath before exhaling heavily. " it gave me you." Hearing these words made your heart flutter souly. Your little smile came across your face which emily mirrored.

" now, my sweet girl, my I take you home?" She spoke in a old French accent waving her hand a fancy motion, You both laughed until you were out of air. after the laughter died down She chuckled and placed a hand on your thigh squeezing the tender flesh which made your breath hitch.

The drive home was long but certainly not quiet at all, you and Emily blasted high 2000s music all the way until she arrived at your home. You knew there was gonna be alot to discuss the next day but you should be fine once you have emily by your side.

[gavisuntiedboot]

We Can't Be Friends (but I'd like to just pretend)

Pedri x Stylist! Reader

Part 2

Warnings: None

Word count: 4.3K

A/N: Back with part 2! I'm warning y'all now - it's going to suck until it doesn't. Please bear with me. Also, I have included the links to both the shirts being sold for Gaza and the direct donation link. Please check them out! And if you can't donate yourself, I donate $1 for every watermelon comment under this post! So please make sure to share at the very least.

~~~

Being scolded was the worst feeling in the world. Well, actually, sleeping with a famous client and then having him immediately chase your coworker was the worst feeling in the world. But boy was this meeting with Katerina a close second.

“There needs to be a case study on this kid.” She muttered under hear breath as she moved sticky notes around the December calendar. She darted her eyes around her current configuration, before turning sour and looking up at you. The dark circles under her eyes had darkened a shade since you had seen her the previous week, and a twinge of guilt played against your sternum for contributing to her fatigue.

“Let’s go over some basic rules, my dear. First and foremost, you cannot block your client’s number.”

“But I-“ You began to protest, but your boss lifted one finger, silencing you instantly.

“I do not care. I do not care if he is a dick. I do not care if he is going to make my stylists kill each other. Honestly, that might be a blessing.  I do not care if he is the father to a litter of bastard children running barefoot around your home. You work for SDF. You work for Pedro Gonzalez. He will have access to your phone, your email, your address, hell your underwear size if he asks. Understood?”

You bit back the urge to protest, just nodding silently. She breathed in deeply before continuing.

“Second, you will not share his information with the other girls in the office. That includes his photoshoot timing, the PR being sent to him– anything. I’m tired of having to file reports to Milan about my girls fighting.”

The command was followed by another nod, this one more genuine. You had no intention of getting within 100 meters of either Tania or Sylvia, who were still not speaking but had also telepathically decided that you were a common enemy. You had been stepped on a suspicious number of times while collecting their pins from the floor, and you always caught them whispering to the other girls in the office about “la naranja podrida”. Didn’t take a detective to put those pieces together.

You were still in a state of agitation regarding the whole ordeal. In your fit of anger, you had done the mental calculations of how long it took Pedri to text another girl. He had left just as the sun was rising, so about 5:30 am. Google maps said you lived 25 minutes from the stadium, but he would have gone home first, because that’s where the damned boots and more damned note would have been. That brings us to 6 am to account for wherever the gremlin lives. By all your most optimistic estimates, he had waited at most a hour between leaving your bed and texting your coworker.

“Hey Silvia” was the text heard around the world. After the report (and a few hair samples) was filed away, a company-wide letter from HQ was sent out reminding employees of professional boundaries with clients. The giddiness and satisfaction that had come from a harmless prank had dissolved, leaving a queasy feeling in its wake. Day damn one. You lasted 4 hours before you crumpled like a convenience store receipt over a boy at work. Ignoring every caution sign, you dove head first into a pool of prospective romance - and promptly hit the concrete.

The worst part was that you couldn’t tell anyone. Bryce had responded to your gushing sonnets in the worst possible manner: with logic. You had brushed aside every one of her very appropriate questions, looking through your rose-tinted lenses at your life. You had gone as far as to tell her she was being a bad friend for trying to find any possible negative in this situation, causing her to pull back.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all.”

The words of her static-garbled voice memo never left your head. There you were, only a few hours later, stomach turned and heart shredded, completely and utterly hurt. And you weren’t ready to face the sting of “I told you so” that was waiting for you, so you just… never said anything else. When she asked about Pedri, you responded formally with his upcoming campaign schedule. Lucky for you that she was too busy with her own life to keep pestering.

The upside to the current tragedy in your life was that you were working in fashion. It was hard to cry when you spent hours upon hours looking at some of the most beautiful clothes in the world, getting full creative freedom to bring your visions to life. Not impossible, because there were definitely a couple of wet spots on the Margiela from yesterday, but harder. Barca Femini had been in and out of the office for fittings, and it was a relief to be able to work with something other than khaki trousers and blazers. There were seemingly hundreds of hangers carrying vintage sports pieces, colorful jackets, and silky skirts. It sparked little moments of happiness, knowing that you were so good at playing dress-up that now you were getting paid for it.

It had been a week since your unfortunate altercation, and though the evening (and unfortunate following morning) had never left you, it had seeped from the front of your mind to the base of your skull, a dull throb that could be ignored during the course of the day. That was, of course, until you received an email from Adidas.

~

"Okay, Pedri, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but this means you're blocked."

There was a snigger that floated through the lunch room that, had he been able to pinpoint the source, Pedri would have promptly quieted with a slap to the head. But it whizzed around like a gnat between some of the younger players.

"How could I be blocked, Fermin?" The question was met with a raised eyebrow from Fermin, who was mentally cursing his college education.

"Maybe it has something to do with you sleeping with her and then disappearing?" Gavi offered up that brilliant hypothesis between bites of grilled chicken.

"No, it couldn't be. She's American - they don't take sex so seriously. Besides, we just met! What was I supposed to do? Propose?"

Pedri resisted the urge to shrink back from the judgmental stares he was receiving. He was used to being questioned by Gavi, who believed in the "stare at her intensely until she falls for me and confesses" method of romance. But now that he had roped in Fermin (the most tech-savvy of the squad), he couldn't handle the intensity of the silent disapproval.

In all honesty, Pedri was tired of the emotional rollercoaster that had plagued the entire day. The previous night had been incredible. He wasn't quite sure what to expect when La Naranja stepped through her front door, but she surely exceeded expectations. Pedri believed he was happy in his normal routine: DM an Instagram model, engage in the little cat-and-mouse game where she pretended she wouldn't bend to his every will, and go back to her place for a decently fun time. But there was something about the way you walked, so coy and bashfully, looking up at him through delicate lashes with wide eyes, that warmed the most primal part of his being. His heart quickened at the sudden desire to chase, to capture, to consume. He wanted to protect this pretty little thing from the sharp eyes and sharper teeth of his friends. He was ready to savor everything you offered.

Over the course of the evening, the feeling gnawing at the inside of his chest became harder to ignore. The soft grip you maintained on his bicep to keep him close, the warmth of your fingertips searing his skin. He wanted to bark at Ferran to never look your way again. To sink his teeth into your neck, have you cry out his name so every man would know to never come near you again. Your hand, so delicate and soft in his own, maintained a firm grip as he dragged you out of the club, and a firmer grip on his hair once he was finally able to kiss you senseless. He felt like a wild animal unleashed in bed with, unable to slow or take pause. You were so hypnotizingly innocent, and he was going to destroy that.

The warmth in his chest remained till the following morning. As he kissed your cheek and whispered his goodbyes, he allowed himself to imagine what kind of arrangement the two of you could have. He was more than eager to feel the caress of your soft lips again. Maybe you would be open to picking up his late night calls, spending long, tedious days together talking and fucking and laughing at nothing in particular. He thought about the flush in your cheeks that would arise whenever he came into work, dropping subtle hints about your activities in the days before. He could really make you a permanent part of his rotation with little difficulty, facilitated further by the fact that you had been assigned as his personal stylist. Filthy as it may sound, he contemplated not showering upon his return home. He would have to later in the day following practice, but until he could secure a second audience with you in a bedroom, he wanted to savor the scent a little longer.

His front doorstep was littered with packages once again, about half from Adidas and the other from Springfield. He was not a designer by any means, but he appreciated that he was at least sent the collections that were meant to be his. Fer was sipping on a coffee when Pedri walked in, and expertly avoided ay questions of where he had been the previous night. He was a concerned older brother, but he was also a guest. He instead asked to see the piles of PR that his younger brother had hauled through the door.

"I don't understand why they bother sending you all this stuff. Why wouldn't they just send it to the styling team."

"Because I actually have to play in the boots, hermano." Pedri said, lifting the lid off his newest pair. He was excited for another Adidas campaign, or any campaign really that would bring him closer to you once again. Oh how he wished he could have captured the way you looked in that dress forever, immortalized it in an oil painting and hung it on his wall (right beside the ripped remains of the dress, which he so desperately wanted to destroy). His daydream had been broken by a crisp white envelope contrasted against the bright orange of the boots. There was a feminine wave of scent in the air, and the heart pumping in his ears drowned out the sounds of his brother’s whistles and taunts. Had you done this? Had you been planning ahead to send him a note had he neglected to ask you out while at the office?

He tensed his forearms to disguise a slight tremble, ripping open the envelope and scanning the page only to find-

“Ay dios mío. Silvia.” He allowed his head to thud against the counter, Fer’s tittering laugh clear as a bell now.

“Is she the scary one or the weird one?” His brother asked, prying the crumpled letter from Pedri’s dejected form.

“Both are fitting adjectives. She’s the shorter one with the silver hair. She kind of looks like our Tia Marisol?”

Another tittering of laugher, and this time Pedri joined in with a cracked smile of his own.

“She wants to tell you how much she admires you, how much you make her … quiver? Ew.” Fer squinted at the note further.

“Listen to this line. Ehem: ‘I am ready to serve you, worship you, give you my body and soul because I love you.”

Pedri groaned so loudly he was sure the neighbors heard. Honestly, what were these girls thinking?? That he would start blushing and giggling at the mention that they would sleep with him? That was the least most girls would do. It turned his stomach, constantly fearing that he would be trapped with a child.

“Let me text this girl. I have to go in next week and I don’t want her bent over a table spread and waiting when I arrive.”

He typed in the number on the note, drafting a long text before deleting everything but the “Hey Silvia” at the top.

“It’s too forceful to say ‘hey I don’t want to fuck you’ right off the bat, no?”

He hit send, reluctantly heading off to shower away his escapades before he went into training, waiting for a reply before he asked not to receive any more erotic letters from his stylists. Oh how he wished she hadn’t.

~

“So run us through it one more time.” Gavi said, Ferran deciding to stifle his groan. The last thing he needed was to enrage Gavi further, as he suspected it would result in him finally getting the punch that was coming to him. Ansu and Fermin were nodding along vigorously, eager to hear all about Pedri’s first experience having feelings.

“We went out, we fucked-“

“Pedri!”

He rolled his eyes at the indignation from the boys. Kids these days.

“Okay. We went out, we had a magical lovemaking experience, and then I had to come to training. I texted her about her being my stylist to ya know break the ice. And I found myself in deep shit and promptly blocked on like everything.”

“I think your first mistake,” said Fermin, “was not texting her about last night. Why would you start with her working for you?"

Pedri dragged his hand down his face in frustration.

"What was I supposed to say? Good morning linda, great pussy last night?"

Gavi stood promptly with his hands up, leaving the room.

"I don't want to hear about another girl's vagina."

"Yes," Ferran muttered, "God forbid he cheat on his crush by listening to a story."

"Whatever happened to 'Hey, I had fun last night'? Is that not a normal thing to say?" Ansu asked, as shaken as Gavi but remaining planted by his desire to be in the loop.

"I think my agent is texting SDF to get her to unblock me. Not super easy to talk to my stylist if I have to do so through messenger pigeon. Where did Gavi go?"

Pedri followed his friend out of the locker room, watching as Gavi stared dejectedly at the Doctora’s office.

“Are you done moping?” Pedri asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

“No. She might lose her job and we play her stupid boyfriend’s team tomorrow. I just want to keep her safe from that asshole.”

For a minute, something sparked in Pedri’s chest. Was that jealousy? He had never before felt that there was something missing in his life, content with being surrounded by friends and family and teammates. But there was something about watching Gavi pine, listening to the way he spoke of this girl, and it caused him an ache. He was in awe of this foreign spectacle: loving someone so deeply, so intensely, that it led to begging for crumbs of their time and attention. He almost wished to be in the Doctora's position, always having someone waiting around the corner for him.

"I have a styling meeting today. Do you want to come and keep me company?"

~

"Naranja, the bastard is here."

You didn't even lift your head when Maria informed you of the arrival of your client. You had worn all black to mourn the death of your self esteem, prepared to ass-kiss as much as needed to preserve your job. Unfortunately, it was difficult to push down the burning rage in the pit of your stomach when you had to kiss the ass of the man who has hurt you so intensely.

Pedri strolled into the room clad in the ugliest jeans known to man, his doe-eyed teammate (Gavin?) trailing behind him. At least the littler one knew how to dress. He was in baggy jeans and an Amie Paris t-shirt, clean sneakers in the same shade of blue as his top. Pedri, on the other hand, was an abomination. His black hoodie was far too baggy on his frame, making him look somewhat inflated. It was made worse by the tight and ribbed denim hugging the (admittedly stunning) legs that ended suddenly in some chunky clompers.

"Good morning, Naranja."

God. Even the sound of his voice was like swallowing razor blades. You wished that you could hear the lilt in his speech without remembering the soft whispers against the column of your throat, guiding you to ecstasy at his command. The way that he encouraged you, coaxed the gentle sighs and high moans with just an ask.

"Let me hear you, pretty girl."

And who were you to deny? But now, looking at his soft eyes and confident stance, you wish you had resisted. Pretended you didn't speak Spanish that first godforsaken day in this office.

"Good morning Pedro."

A stifled laugh and wide eyes from the boy behind Pedri (God what was his name? Gustavo?). Pedri's shoulders had dropped significantly, his thick brows coming together in confusion.

"No one calls me Pedro. Not even my mother."

"Well, maybe it's a good time for you to learn what disappointment feels like. Especially since you're so comfortable giving it out to others. Do you have your boots?"

You could tell Pedri was lost for words, and it caused you a mild spark of satisfaction. You had spent the last week boiling silently, unable to unleash all the rage simmering in your chest. He nodded silently, pulling the box out of his bag.

"Great. Gabriel, there is a coffee shop on the second floor if you want to grab a drink while I'm fitting Pedro. I'm sure you've seen him naked plenty of times but-"

"No, no, I'll go. Would you like anything?"

After shaking your head, he exited the room, and you began frantically grabbing different sweat pants and shirts for Pedri to put on.

"His name is Gavi by the way." Pedri said to break the silence, and you turned so he could strip off his shirt.

"Come on, Naranja. Don't pretend you haven't see it already." He smiled somewhat earnestly, softer than he did at the other girls. You were a gentle thing, and he wanted to be gentle with you.

"How many other girls in this office have seen it as well, Pedro?" You asked with as much venom as you could muster, turning to face him and eyes locking as he unzipped his jeans.

"You think that sleeping with me is a company welcome gift, Naranja?"

"That's not my name."

"And Pedro isn't mine. But if you want to poke at me, I'll poke at you right back."

He was now in only his boxers and his socks, and it took everything within you not to glance downwards, a reminder of the sight from one week and one night ago. He took a defiant step forward, the heat radiating off his body.

"You know, Pedro," You began, steadying your voice. "Texting my coworker mere minutes after leaving my bed is a sin on it's own."

"Wait, what? Hold on-"

"But in those mere hours of bliss, I googled you. Looked at your name on Twitter. Saw who you were. And you're just another slimy athlete that uses girls and throws them away."

Your face broke when you heard him laugh loudly at the revelation. It made you angry, expecting him to feel ashamed of his behavior.

"I despise miscommunication, Naranja. So don't go jumping to conclusions and acting foolish. Your coworker sent me a letter essentially begging to fuck me, but I suspect you knew that already. Hell, you might have even been the one to switch the names around."

Your cheeks grew warmer, and a part of your brain registered that Gavi was now lingering in the doorway.

"But beyond that, linda, is that I was texting her to say I wasn't interested." He began dressing, joggers defining his legs in a way acid-washed denim never could. "But I don't like being judged based on rumors on Twitter. I want to be your friend-"

"Again with that word!" The outrage was finally seeping from you, and now that the lid had come off there was no containing it.

"How am I meant to be your friend, Pedro? You hit on me, you sleep with me, and then you moved on to the next girl. How am I supposed to be your friend after everything you've put me through?"

"What did you expect of me exactly?" He shoved his shirt over his head, a sweet bit of relief in a tense situation. "I like you, Naranja. More than a lot of other girls I've met. And I want to keep seeing you," he let his eyes burn a path down your body, "as a little more than a friend. If that's something you're into."

You took a step back, hand over your chest in shock. Did this man just ask you to be a friend with benefits, mere minutes after you asserted your disgust for his very being.

"You must think so highly of yourself." You couldn't raise your voice out of fear of it cracking. Just how much had you deluded yourself into thinking you found something special?

"I don't actually," there was a tone of laughter in his voice, "quite the opposite actually." There was suddenly not enough air between you. You simultaneously wished someone would interrupt you and that the moment would last forever.

"You're a sweet girl, Naranja. Too sweet for someone like me. I know who I am and what I want, and a girlfriend is not on that list currently."

"So what? I'm good enough for you to fuck and not to date?" You asked, the question heavy between the two of you. He remained silent, lips unmoving, the wheels turning behind deep chocolate eyes.

"I like you enough not to want to hurt you, Naranja. So, what do you say? Friends?"

"Go fuck yourself, Pedro."

~

The high pitched noise of the camera going off repeatedly was starting to get to your head. You leaned against the wall, rubbing at your temples to try and stave off the impending migraine. You opened your eyes briefly to see Gavi also leaning against the wall, gnawing on his lip and staring at his phone. Propelled by boredom, you shifted slowly along the wall to peak at what he was doing, desperate for any form of entertainment.

Thank God for the lack of Gavi's vertical blessing. A quick peek revealed that he wasn't actually typing any words, only rereading text from a contact that was saved as...

"Holy shit are you fucking your doctor?" You asked, probably a little louder than appropriate.

His eyes went wide as frying pans and he began to go visibly red. He started babbling out denials, explaining that the two of them were just friends.

"I mean she has a boyfriend and even if she didn't she would never go for me because she's so much older than me and cooler than me and she's way out of my league but all I want to do is keep her safe and make her happy and-"

His brain finally caught up to the words he was letting loose, and he abruptly suspended his word vomit.

"Does she know that you like her?" You asked, back against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with Gavi.

"God, I hope not. I don't want to do anything to make her life harder than it already is."

"Maybe telling her how you feel will make it easier. Maybe she feels the same."

"Yeah," he sighed deeply, looking wistfully at his phone again, "That's what Pedri keeps telling me."

The disgust was evident on your features. "I wouldn't really take Pedri's relationship advice."

"Now now, turning my best friend against me because you want me is a little extreme, Naranja." The voice behind you was too much to bear.

"Someone needs to give your best friend advice on how to not transform into a heartless user."

"Ironic. I remember one of us chanting 'use me, use me, use me' just last week." The response died in your mouth as Pedri's publicist approached. Where did this guy get off? Even if you believed his bullshit excuse about not wanting to fuck Silvia, the teen drama explanation as to why he doesn't "do" relationships compensated plenty.

"Alright you crazy kids! Ready to go shopping?" You spun around so quickly that you almost smacked Gavi with your hair.

"I beg your pardon? I am a stylist, not a personal shopper. I get pieces sent to me."

That was the truth. You weren't in charge or brand relations, and the purchasing department was an impenetrable fortress. Each week, a soulless intern wheeled a rack into the room, and you worked with what you were given. You had several ideas for how you could modernize some of these stuffy athletes, but that wasn't your place. Not yet anyways.

"Yes, of course. But we are redoing Pedri's wardrobe entirely. We have received communication from the team that his tunnel outfits are - what was the official wording? Oh yes, 'a detriment to the team's public image and an offense to the eyes of culers globally'. Springfield have also asked us to film some content during the journey."

"I don't think this is really part of Naranja's job description."

Of course Pedri was the one undermining you. Of course it was his voice speaking out only to call you incapable. You forced on your biggest smile, turning to face the agent directly.

"Oh, there's no issue at all. It would be an honor to makeover Spain's worst looking footballer."

~~~

Okay end of part 2!! I have decided that I want to post more frequent, smaller parts for this story rather than giant updates every three months. Please let me know what you think in the comments and in my ask box, and potentially where you want this dynamic to go! Thanks cutes xoxo gavisuntiedboot <3

(also if you would like to be on the taglist for this story, pls lmk!!)

Taglist:

@girlidekanymore

[respectthepetty]

Do you want us to be friends?

When Director Jojo and Director Aof want to have a visually poppin' show, they call on Cinematographer Rath, so I instantly noticed that when Day was talking to Gee in the gym about Mork, it was bright

then she mentioned the farewell party with the line "we're all friends" and the light got darker.

When Mork reads the names on the trophy, he doesn't finish August's, but Day doesn't call August his partner nor his friend. He simply states August is the "the other name."

The show is leading up to unveiling the reason for August and Day's issues, which apparently started long before Day's loss of sight, and translations are translations, but this is telling of Day and Mork's relationship.

Mork continues to define their relationship as one of boss and employee

While Day continues to state he is Mork's friend.

But this label only happens around Mork's friends.

Because in front of Day's friends, Mork is his caretaker.

So in front of Mork's friend, Mork calls Day his boss, and in front of Day's friend, Day calls Mork his caretaker, and although those are accurate, they treat each other like friends.

Point #1: Drunk Friends

When they first met, Night asked Mork if he had ever taken care of someone before and Mork told him he always gets his drunk friends home,

And now he made sure to not only get Day home, who was drunk, but also to stay with him in case he got sick or accidentally hurt himself.

Point #2: Phojai (Porjai)

Phojai's shitty ex-boyfriend thought she was cheating on him with Mork (NIGHT NATION RISE!). Day thought she was Mork's girlfriend. Yet both times Phojai firmly established she and Mork were just friends. They are there for each other. They tease each other. They want what's best for each other. They care about and for each other. And they do it because they are friends.

Mork told Day that he went to jail because he got into a fight while drinking with friends. When Day didn't want to see his friends, Phojai told Mork he above everyone else should understand since none of his friends visited him and jail, and when she did, he broke up with her because he felt worthless even though she never saw him that way. The reason she and Mork are still friends is because their care for each other doesn't stem from a sense of duty or pity. It stems from love.

Point #3: Day's Friends

Day's friends immediately start roasting him. They say "long time no see," drink to their "blind friend," and ask how he "watches" porn. You know, like friendly people.

But they really are. When Gee listed the names, both of them recognized everyone as "friendly people" (since August was not present) and even though they had missteps, Gee also established that Day is very much like them.

Which is why they are all friends.

And it is why Mork fits right in.

Point #4: "Friends"

August was simply "the other name" but Day and Mork keep changing how they label the other person. Once again, to Day's friends, Day introduces Mork as his caretaker, and to Mork's friends, Mork introduces Day as his boss. It makes sense for neither to label the other as friend in front of their respective friends, but . . . it's not because of a respect for their professional relationship.

Day's friends know what Day's friends looks like because they are his friends, and Mork ain't it which Gee clocks. Mork's friends know what Mork's friends looks like, and Day ain't it, which even the mechanic looked sideways at when Day said he was a friend.

They use the boss and caretaker label to remind themselves they aren't friends, yet they continue to treat each other like friends.

But Aof's directing, as usual, is slowly making them question if they are even treating each like friends.

And Rath, as usual, is backing it up with the visuals.

Which is why everything is just a bit brighter and clearer when they speak about each other compared to their other friends. Even if they can't admit it, they have always seen the other for exactly who he is, and they never saw the other as a friend.

[daarka]

For those late to the party who want to know what the hell is going on with #OpenDnD, #StoptheSub, #DnDBegone etc, and why everyone is cancelling DnDBeyond subscriptions, I tried to do a crash course as succinctly as possible. OpenDnD.Games is a great resource for more in-depth details, and if you wish to do so, you can cancel your DnDBeyond subscription through this direct link (as there have been many reporting trouble in locating where to do so). Edit: Tweaked the very first detail below, as someone reminded me it was not a wholly accurate statement as I had initially written it. Apologies to everyone who already reblogged the first version of this :')

Hasbro acquired Wizards of the Coast (WotC) some time ago, but recently they got new leadership who said in an interview that they see D&D as "under-monetized". Hasbro is on the decline with finances, and WotC is its biggest cash cow. Why milk that cash cow through producing more content when you can instead revoke a legally irrevocable license that makes it impossible for 3rd party content creators to exist?

America loves a good monopoly. The old license that permitted the community to grow to what it is today was OGL1.0a, and without it, D&D would not be what it is right now, nor even close. They tried to shift to OGL1.1, a new license that is, in a word, PREDATORY. Horrific, nasty shit.

OGL1.1 was quietly sent to large creators to sign. It then got leaked. The community erupted. The backlash was loud and unanimous. WotC was radio silent for like two weeks. They finally gave a single-sentence "we'll explain soon" tweet on DnDBeyond's account. Then more silence.

A WotC employee reached out to large creators to blow the whistle on WotC. The source was verified, and they shared that WotC sees the community as an obstacle between them and their money, all they care about is bottom line, and they're delaying in hopes we forget and move on.

And also that they are mainly looking at DnDBeyond subscription cancelations to gauge the financial impact; they don't care about our sentiments, only our money. So everyone erupted into signal boosting for others to unsubscribe as the single and best way to make ourselves heard. Cue the mass unsubscribing.

Today (January 13th 2023), a shitty PR piece was posted on DnDBeyond full of blatant lies and, in my opinion, barely-contained saltiness. Right before that, though, OGL2.0 leaks came out; the tweaks they'd begrudgingly made following the backlash. 2.0 is basically just as bad as 1.1; they just spoke of it as being more changed than it was.

In other words, they keep bold-faced lying to a community of rules-lawyers who recreationally read fine print :)

Meanwhile, Paizo (creators of Pathfinder) has come to the rescue, vowing to release a truly open license that will allow everyone to continue pursuing the livelihoods they're passionate about; this is the Open RPG Creative License, or "ORC".

Canceling subscriptions immediately sends a potent message, even if you may have to resubscribe later for functionality in your games. You'll still have the remainder of your billing cycle to enjoy paid perks.

Everything's a little on fire, but I think we'll be okay ♥️

OGL1.0a was never meant to be revocable, as loudly stated in the past couple days by the very people who authored it. It is very likely that WotC is actually just bluffing and bullying, and is actually powerless to revoke it--something many lawyers more knowledgeable than myself seem to be suggesting. In which case, it is my greatest hope in all of this that 3rd party creators are able to continue doing what they love, with no further interruptions.

Remember: the majority of WotC and DnDBeyond employees feel the exact same way we do, but they don't have a choice. Hasbro is the enemy here. Be kind to each other, and know where blame should and should not be placed. If you want to stay up to speed, the account of @.DnD_Shorts seems to be a very active and informed voice, largely responsible for sharing the first leak. If Twitter makes you want to puke, I completely understand; DnD_Shorts also has a YouTube channel with frequent updates on the situation posted in video format.

It's cathartic to me to try to signal boost this stuff, and provide summaries that might help others stay informed. It helps me feel like I'm somehow able to affect these nasty things that are otherwise just inflicted onto lil guys in the community like myself.

However, this has been beyond exhausting and stressful. I'm going to start untangling myself and stepping back from posting about this issue so I can hopefully restore some of my own sanity.

It's been really crazy--in a good way--to see the power this community has when rallied together under a common threat. It makes me proud to be in that community.

At the end of the day, all TTRPGs are really just exercises in creativity and fun. The golden rule has always been and should always be that there is no right or wrong way to play, other than what suits you and those you play with. Likewise, no one should ever feel guilty or judged by others for playing one system over another. It's okay to like D&D5e despite all this. No matter how much they've tried, Wizards of the Coast cannot claim jurisdiction over the invaluable memories you've made, and what has become a creative outlet for countless people. Myself included.

Boycotting is a great way to be heard, since they only care about money. But continuing to use the content you have to play D&D5e is your prerogative, and hurts no one. Furthermore, it's also okay if you can't cancel your DnDBeyond subscription because you rely on it too heavily for your games. That doesn't make you a traitor. That doesn't estrange you from the community. DnDBeyond, at its core, is a great tool that is popular for a reason; it's the new leadership that is forcing it to become something it wasn't meant to be. One day, I hope to be able to resubscribe in good conscious, and I hope that day is soon.

To reiterate, if anyone's even read down this far... be kind to one another. Keep in mind that big enemies win when the party is divided. You can love or hate anything you want in the TTRPG sphere, but how you feel about it does not invalidate someone else feeling the opposite.

Be kind. Be patient. Be empathetic. We're already coming out on top.

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

This morning, 15 minutes after the break in fighting was supposed to begin, Hamas fired two rocket barrages into southern Israel. This is what we mean when we say that Hamas has broken every ceasefire ever. The only reason why this didn't lead to the hostage deal falling apart, is because Israel chose to "contain" Hamas' violent rocket attack. But remember this when we explain why we can't accept Hamas' existence anymore.

Israel confirmed that the 13 hostages being released have arrived in Egypt, and there are already Israelis there, taking care of them. IDK when we'll get their names, and images of them safe back in Israel, but as you can imagine, everyone here is holding its breath for that. Still, their well being comes first, they're being taken to a hospital first, to see their families, and only then (and based on whatever they prefer) will there be anything more public. There will not be interviews, however, 'coz something they say might risk the other groups of hostages meant to be released in the upcoming days.

Hamas is also releasing some of the Thai nationals they've kidnapped (I heard 12 of the 23 taken hostage), which are being let go of unconditionally. Before anyone tries to make out this shows Hamas is humane, I'll just point out that Hamas terrorists murdered at least 33 Thais on Oct 7.

Some of my fave commentators recently on what's going on here since Hamas' massacre aren't Jewish, or even Israeli. Here's a few of their tweets:

Regarding the last one, I just wanna say that most Israelis will continue to trust most Arabs. That's just how we have always lived, despite the on going terror attacks. The day after Oct 7, I mentioned that I went to my hospital treatment. The guard there is an Arab guy. He carries a gun. I couldn't help but think about it. And then I did what I always do, I thanked him for his work (being a guard is difficult), and wished him a good day. He smiled big and wished me the same. He's lovely. What Hamas did on Oct 7 is not his fault. But the mistrust of survivors, and some of those who care about them, is also very human and understandable, as much as I'll continue to call on everyone not to generalize about Arabs, or any group.

Especially when some of Hamas' victims are themselves Arabs. Here's a young Israeli Muslim Bedouin woman, who has been speaking up on behalf of her friend, 17 years old Aisha al Ziadna, who was kidnapped by Hamas on Oct 7.

A Sky News reporter was particularly shameful the other day. She tried to use Israel's willingness to release 3 convicted terrorist per just 1 innocent civilian hostage to vilify Israel. Here's the reply she got:

Just a reminder, once again, that when you listen to western media, which is supposed to be objective, these are often their info sources on this conflict:

Speaking of lack of objectivity, an Israeli newspaper found out that the International Criminal Court has appointed a Danish lawyer to investigate the Israel-Hamas war, and it's a man (I'm not sure I'm transcribing his name from Hebrew correctly, but it should be something like Andreas Laursen) who has worked in the past for a Palestinian "human rights organization" which has been outlawed in 2021 for having ties to terrorist organizations, who was involved in 2018 in trying to make the case that Israel had committed war crimes, who has lived in the Palestinian city of Ramallah, and who is married to a Palestinian woman. This Israeli newspaper has contacted the ICC, asking why the person appointed to this investigation isn't someone who would at least appear to be unbiased. The answer was (I'm translating from the Hebrew article): "We maintain confidentiality about anything that pertains to specific subjects that are related to our employees. Every personal decision made by the head prosecutor fits the policy and relevant procedures that oversee the court's human resources matters."

Because there are still people denying the Hamas rapes:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by כאן חדשות (@kan_news)

I've spoken before about Liel, and how long it took to identify her body, but this tweet kind of broke me all over again.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[goldenseresinretriever]

False Confidence: Prologue

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: This is a repost from my series, False Confidence. It was originally posted in March 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

You stare at the event on your calendar, willing it to disappear into the void. The words “staff meeting” glare back at you as you glance at the clock. Five more minutes. Maybe they’ll cancel. Maybe the sun will fall out of the sky. You nibble your lower lip before you can catch yourself. Your fingers worry the hem of your sweater, keeping time with the thundering of your heart. It’s fine. You’re okay. It’s just a staff meeting. After three years working at Acacia Academy, you’re more comfortable here than you’ve been in any job before, the product of time invested and the aid of a stable schedule, but sometimes you have days like this. Days when the pounding in your heart reaches your ears, echoing like the drum of an executioner signaling your imminent demise.

“Roadie?” Three minutes left and a familiar voice calls out your nickname. You force your lips to curl into a smile as you turn to the door of your currently empty classroom. Your colleague and perhaps your only work friend, Josie Fitch is leaning against the doorframe. She’s wearing the patient, sweet smile she’s always using on her rowdy fourth-grade class. “You ready to go? We have that staff meeting today, remember?” You nod, finding it harder to keep the smile on your face at the reminder of the meeting. Nevertheless, you force yourself to stand, smoothing a hand over your slacks before crossing the room to where Josie’s waiting. She slides her hand into yours, pulling you along after her to the teacher’s lounge and staff conference room.

When you reach the room, it’s already at least half full. Thankfully, Josie takes pity on you and slides into the last pair of chairs in the back of the room, leaving the seats at the front for the stragglers. Dan Jackson, the principal, is standing at the front of the room, hands clasped in front of him and a firm look on his face that makes you struggle not to fidget. Principal Jackson’s gaze drags over the room as the clock strikes three thirty and heaves a heavy sigh before clearing his throat.

“Regardless of attendance, let’s get started. After thoughtful consideration, the school will be implementing a new soft policy. In the face of our upcoming contract renewals and an effort to combat employee fraternization, we’ll be looking at relationship status as a qualification when deciding which contracts get renewed. While a stable relationship is not a hard requirement, as that’s not enforceable under the law, it will greatly help your case for re-employment. Your heart is beating so loudly in your ears that you can barely hear Principal Jackson as he continues. Josie seems to notice your distress and squeezes your hand gently. She doesn’t have anything to worry about since she’s been happily married for twelve years and she’s the mother of two beautiful children who are currently students at Acadia. Not for the first time, you wonder why you didn’t just take a job at a public school. You wouldn’t have to deal with these borderline illegal policies and all the politics that come with working for a private school that’s unregulated by a school board. Unfortunately, public schools are a nightmare for you. Hundreds of students, dozens of teachers, and large buildings make any kind of familiarity almost impossible. During your student teaching years, you worked in a public school and you were constantly on edge leading to your pivot into private schools. Sure the administration is almost always corrupt and the parents are entitled, but at least you know every one of your students and colleagues by name, and as long as you keep your head down, you stay out of trouble. And you’ve done exactly that. Despite the issues Principal Jackson’s speaking about regarding employee fraternization, you’ve been removed from that. No one pays you much attention. Well aside from Jeremy Dickinson.

Jeremy came to Acacia Academy the same year that you did and while you tend towards the fringes of social circles, he’s magnetic and constantly the center of attention. You have a sneaking suspicion that this meeting and new policy is actually a direct response to the negative side effects of said magnetism. Jeremy’s the one that gave you your nickname, Roadrunner or Roadie for short. You’re always dashing from place to place, trying to stay out of people’s way and he joked that you resembled the speedy cartoon character. Now more teachers refer to you by the nickname than by your real name and while it used to annoy you, you’ve taken to appreciating the kind of anonymity that the nickname gives you. If people want to see you as a caricature rather than a person, you’re alright with that as long as their eyes slide over you instead of lingering.

While you’ve been lost in your thoughts, the meeting has come to a close and you slump into your seat as the reality of your situation comes crashing down onto you. Josie’s giving you a concerned look that you do your best to ignore as you stand and head into the mass of people squeezing through the doorway, eager to head home for the day. Josie follows you but doesn’t speak up until you’re back in your classroom. “So, Roadie, what are your plans for the evening?” She’s deflecting, giving you the option to bring up the meeting yourself. You sigh heavily as you start to pack your belongings.

“Looking for a new job, apparently.” You answer with a hollow laugh. She frowns at that.

“You know that policy isn’t about you, right? That’s for people like Jeremy who can’t keep it in their pants. You’ve never dated anyone at school.” You’ve never dated anyone but that’s beside the point. Andrew St. James doesn’t count or so your high school therapist had assured you.

You shrug as you slide your laptop into your tote bag. “You heard Principal Jackson. He wants people in relationships working here. I’m not in a relationship, so I’m at a disadvantage.”

“So maybe you should get a boyfriend,” Josie suggests like it’s the easiest thing in the world and you feel a twinge of bitter jealousy in your chest. As if it’s that simple.

“That’s not going to happen.” You say with a tired shake of your head as you slide the bag onto your shoulder. Josie shrugs but lets the conversation drop.

“If you’re free tonight, you should come with us to the game.” Josie’s been trying to invite you to one of her husband’s games all season. Reuben Fitch is a winger for the newly formed San Diego Dogfighters hockey team here in San Diego. You don’t know the first thing about hockey and sports games are the last place you’d rather be so you’ve casually dodged the invitations over and over but today you’re simply too tired to keep shutting Josie down.

“Sure, why not.” You relent and Josie’s face lights up with excitement.

“Really?! Oh, that’s great, Roadie, the kids will be so excited that you’re coming! They keep begging me to bring you!” The Fitch kids, Jamie and Skylar attend Acacia Academy and thanks to your friendship with Josie and the fact that you’re Skylar’s teacher, you’re all thick as thieves. You’ve babysat for Reuben and Josie plenty of times, giving them some well-deserved time to themselves. As a hockey player, Reuben’s traveling for work almost as much as he’s home, and between that and wanting to be as present of a parent as possible he doesn’t have a lot of time to spend with his wife. Thankfully, Josie takes it in stride, leading her family with a poise you’re constantly impressed by while her husband is away and you’re more than willing to help where you can. While you’ve never been comfortable with your peers, you’ve always been comfortable with children. You think maybe it’s because they don’t expect you to be anything more than yourself. The younger the better in that respect and that’s why you teach kindergarten. Josie gives you the details for this evening, offering to drive you to the arena with them so you don’t have to bother with parking and you swallow hard as you make your way to your car trying to convince yourself that you haven’t just made a huge mistake.

***

You’re starting to wish you hadn’t taken up Josie on her offer. You’re sitting next to Skylar at the end of the row in case you need to make a quick escape. You’re up by the glass and the people in the next section are banging on it as the players zip around on the ice. The kids are caught up in the infectious energy buzzing through the Hard Deck arena. It’s got you dizzy with nerves. One of the Dogfighters slams one of the opposing team against the glass in front of you and you jump, stomach queasy. How anyone could enjoy watching let alone playing this sport is beyond you. You fiddle with the hem of your new sweater that Josie insisted on getting you after the slightly chilly air in the arena was adding to your shivers. The Dogfighters logo is emblazoned on the olive green fabric and it’s ridiculously soft but that’s to be expected given its hefty price tag. You protested but Josie pointed out that she could probably get it discounted and maybe even reimbursed afterward due to her husband’s role on the team. The score is in the Dogfighters’ favor as the other team can’t seem to get on the board. Another player slams into the glass and you jump all over again, realizing this time it’s one of the opposing team shoving a Dogfighter. Despite the fact that he’s most likely going to wake up with an array of bruises you notice that he’s got a fierce grin on his face, dark eyes dancing dangerously as he pushes off the wall and giving chase to his assailant. You suppose you have to love the sport to play it for a living but you’re still struck by his expression long after the game has moved on.

***

The game ends with the Dogfighters shutting out Los Vegas 5-0 and the crowd is in good spirits pushing and shoving as they all try to exit the arena at once. You feel your body get shoved and jostled by a stray elbow and you stumble, righting yourself and realizing you’ve lost track of Josie and the kids. Panic climbs up your throat as you’re carried forward by the crowd as you whip your head from side to side, trying to find your group. You make it through the door and people jostle you every which way as you try and escape the crowd and find somewhere quiet to call Josie. You try to dull the panic as you fight against the stream of people, ducking down hallways, anything to get away from the crowds that are causing your heartbeat to echo in your ears yet again. Finally, you find yourself in some abandoned hallway and fish out your phone, cursing as you realize you don’t have service. You’re about to head back the way you came, anxiety pulsing through your veins when a voice startles you.

“Well, well, you’re definitely not supposed to be here.” You whip around, fear clenching your chest as you spot the man leaning against the wall. His posture is casual but his gaze is electric, curiosity dancing in dark brown eyes. You recognize him as the player you noticed earlier, the one who’d been thrown into the glass. He’s still in his equipment but he’s ditched the helmet, and now you have an unrestricted view of his face. He’s handsome, with a strong jaw and full lips that are currently pulled into a playful smirk. You stammer as you try to find your voice to explain what you’re doing here but he just chuckles, pushing off the wall and stalking towards you like a wolf approaching its prey. You’re pinned to the spot as he comes up, invading your personal space and you can smell the sweat on his skin and something else, a heady, spicier scent that tickles your nose. You’re sure you’re shaking like a leaf as he takes your chin in his hand, frozen from his brazen actions and unable to step away. His eyes search yours before his smirk widens.

“Lucky for you, beautiful, I like a girl who knows what she wants.” His eyes darken and you barely catch the glint in them before his mouth is on yours.

[oftenwantedafton]

safe harbor | steve raglan x female reader

rating | explicit

part 1/?

words | 2k

cw | none for this chapter, additional notes regarding this seaside bakery au are available on ao3.

ao3 link

“How long have you known?”

William’s voice is quiet beneath the crash of the ocean waves. The tide has come in, thundering foamy tendrils stretching across the narrowing band of sand, collecting and redistributing bits of shells and seaweed and driftwood along the shore. The setting sun reflects off of the seated man’s gold rimmed Aviators, a spectacular display of rose and coral and saffron gradients.

“Since the very beginning,” you say. “Since the first time I made eye contact with you in the kitchen that day. I knew it was you. I’ve always known.”

There are no coincidences as wild as the one you’ve both found yourself in: two people from a small town across the country who just happened to choose the same location to migrate to.

It was beyond imagining.

***

The seaside bakery of Safe Harbor does a steady business with the locals throughout the year, but the tourists naturally bring the most income during the summer months.

That’s when you seek employment there, the influx of additional customers requiring increased staffing. You’ve worked at a bakery in a larger chain variety grocery store before, but this specimen was something more unique; not an established, widespread franchise, but the only one of its kind. Under new ownership, so the advertisement had claimed, and it seems as if the new captain at the helm knew exactly how to steer the vessel towards success. The small shop is crowded, every seat filled indoors, visible through the row of window box lined panes of glass, spilling outside onto the small patio area, where white bistro tables and matching chairs perch on the elevated deck that offers a spectacular view of the ocean that’s just across the dual laned road. There’s a long line extending out the door that you have to push past, apologizing to the disgruntled customers, explaining that you’re not trying to cut in front of anyone, but that you’re actually here for a job interview.

Eventually you manage to weave your way inside, thrust up against a long glass case filled with a variety of tempting looking pastries: donuts and cupcakes and cookies, brownies and croissants and cannolis. Everyone working behind the counter looks extremely busy, so you’re forced to speak rather loudly, explaining the reason for your presence and inquiring about the whereabouts of the owner, Steve Raglan.

“In back,” a young man says, jerking a thumb towards the open doorway behind him, then using tongs to retrieve a pair of eclairs from the display case. There’s a small portion of the counter that lifts, granting you access to the area of bustling employees, and you quickly thread through the bodies until you find yourself in a kitchen.

It’s warm inside; you immediately feel perspiration dotting your brow. There’s a tall man standing in front of a rack of cookies, piping different shades of icing over each one. The colors are vibrant: aqua and salmon and rich daffodil yellow. It reminds you of the chalkboard sign you’d seen outside, the neat lettering done in the same eye catching hues, announcing the day’s specials. The baker doesn’t notice you approaching at first, seemingly occupied with applying fine details to each surface, his gloved hands working quickly and precisely. You hesitate to interrupt, hovering at the threshold of the kitchen, somewhat enthralled with the talents of this artist.

Eventually it appears the man has finally realized your presence in his peripheral vision, his voice issuing an order even as he continues working his way down the row of baked treats.

“Good, you’re back from break. Can you grab the next batch out of the oven?”

“Um, sure.” It never occurs to you to protest, to explain that he’s mistaken you for someone else. Something in his tone makes you stand a little straighter, forces a kind of alert readiness to your limbs, prodding you into action. You look around for something to shield your hands with, seizing a pair of towels, the fastest and easiest tool within reach. A blast of hot air greets you as you open the oven door and withdraw a tray of cookies that are ocean themed: seahorses and scalloped shells, octopi and starfish.

“These are almost ready to go out. There’s a special order cake being picked up in an hour. I’m going to have to…” His voice trails off as he finally glances at your face, his eyes temporarily obscured by the glare of light reflecting off of the wide lenses in front of them. “You’re not my employee.”

“Uh, no, not yet. Maybe soon. I’m here for a job interview with Steve Raglan.”

The bearded man places the piping bag he’s holding down, glancing at his wristwatch. “Late. Not you, the person I’m working with. It’s been so busy. I’ll have to pull someone from the front to help. The lines will be even longer, but it can’t be helped. It’s always hectic at the start of the summer season.” He wipes his hands on his apron, then stretches one out for you to shake.

The automatic smile of greeting slips from your features as you grasp his hand, your eyes finally properly meeting his revealed pale blue ones as his head inclines slightly, granting you clear sight of them. You recognize him. Even though he’s wearing the required beard and hair net, even though he looks different from the last time you’d seen him, a solid decade dividing that gap of time, you’re certain you know him. He’s from the same town you are. Just a small one in Utah, clear across the country.

His name most certainly isn’t Steve Raglan.

William Afton—that’s who he really is—isn’t the kind of man you forget. Sure, the dark hair might be mixed with more pewter and ivory now, and he’d always been clean shaven then, but the visible portion of his skin still appears smooth and that same presence, that absolute aura, still radiates from the older man, even in this new setting.

He surely doesn’t remember you. You’d been just another customer at the successful establishment he’d previously owned, forgettable in a sea of other faces. You think you do a fair job of recovering your surprise, adequately concealing the fact that you know he’s using an alias, that he’s relocated far from his home to perhaps have a fresh start, after all of the controversy that had surrounded the ill fated pizzeria he’d once run.

The bakery’s owner gestures for you to follow him, leading you into a small office adjacent to the kitchen, disposing of the protective gear into a tall, narrow wastebin along the way. It’s a cramped space with very little decor to speak of, its main features a battered looking desk that dominates most of the room, an equally ragged looking leather office chair, a filing cabinet, and a steel folding chair that you’re directed to sit in.

There’s a lovely breeze coming in through the cracked window, salted and refreshing after the heat of the kitchen. It lifts the bottom pages of a calendar tacked on the wall, the featured image for the month a close up photograph of a sand dollar in pristine condition, bleached pure white. You’ve never found one that color, and certainly never intact during any of your treks across the shoreline. They’re always murky gray, and shattered.

“So I have your resume here. Thanks for dropping it off ahead of time.” You nod, watching him thumb through the stapled pages. “You have previous experience working in a bakery. That’s a huge plus. As you can see, we’re quite busy this time of year. The position is only temporary, but you’ll get your fill of hours for the summer. The pay rate is six dollars an hour.”

He leans back and the chair creaks. Your eyes follow the movements of his long fingers, the narrow wrists and lean forearms, the rest of his upper extremities shielded by the rolled up sleeves of his button front shirt. Dexterous hands, those. You’ve seen them rolling tokens in the arcade, tinkering with the animatronics when you’d peeked into the maintenance area on a dare during a classmate’s birthday party. You’ve even seen them encased in metal and faux fur, when he’d dressed up as one of the mascots. You weren’t meant to know it was him inside the rabbit suit, but you’d been certain then. Just like you’re certain of his real identity now.

Your force your mind back to the present conversation. “That’s perfect. I’m just looking to put some money away before I start college in the fall.”

Steve—you suppose you might as well get used to calling him that, repeating the name several times in your mind—tips his head to one side, regarding you with a thoughtful expression. “You’re not from around here. You don’t have a New England accent.”

“No. I’m from Utah.” A shimmer in his eyes, or maybe you’ve imagined it. “From a small town you’ve probably never heard of: Hurricane.” Definitely a sparkle there.

His head straightens and he leans forward. “No, I’ve never heard of it.”

Another falsehood. Naturally he’s not going to drop the facade to a virtual stranger. He surely has his reasons for starting over. You can relate to that. “You don’t have a local accent either. Where are you from?”

“Seattle.” The lie slips so readily from his tongue, you wonder if he hasn’t rehearsed answering this very question already.

“What made you decide to move across the country?”

“Just wanted a change,” he responds vaguely. “What about you? What brought you here?”

“The same, I guess. Looking for new experiences. New opportunities.” Also a vague, safe answer. There’s a little snow globe on the desk that you’ve only just now noticed, slightly tucked behind a standing rack of upright folders. You can’t quite make out what’s inside from this angle, but the bright colors remind you instantly of a certain rabbit mascot character played by a certain owner of a certain shuttered restaurant. Your gaze returns to the interviewer’s features. “There’s nothing for me back in Hurricane.”

“There’s nothing for me, either.”

“You mean back in Seattle.”

“Of course.” Steve replies smoothly, never missing a beat. He smiles, the lines bracketing the corners of his eyes creasing. It looks so genuine. Friendly. Kind. But there had been those rumors. The missing children. “So, do you want the job?”

“Yes.” You don’t think you could muster the power to refuse him even if you wanted to. You still have one the infamous arcade ‘Faz tokens’, the relic tucked away amidst the sparse contents of the jewelry box on the dresser in the single bedroom of your new apartment. Tarnished, perhaps, but still treasured nonetheless. Like your memories of Freddy’s.

The long fingers fold together. “When can you start?”

“As soon as you need me.”

“Be here tomorrow. Three AM. I’ll send you home with an actual application and the form for your W2’s. You can hand them in tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” you agree. You’d anticipated as much. The early hours came with the territory.

The man stands and you rise from your seat, leading the way back out of the office. You’re quickly reminded of the heat waiting for you in the kitchen, the hot air wafting over you as soon as you leave the open window behind you.

A tshirt bearing the bakery’s logo is pressed into your hands before you exit the crowded shop, a quick reminder about proper dress code hastily issued, and then you find yourself back outside, suddenly grateful for the fresh air, for escaping the close press of bodies.

You’re still thinking about those hands, once slotted between delicate metal components, now hidden by a layer of latex and dusted with flour and sugar.

There’s nothing for me back in Hurricane.

The magician no longer performing his act. The engineer now an architect of very different designs. Working in very different mediums. Trading alloys and circuitry for chocolate and fondant and sprinkles. Pretending to be someone he’s not.

There’s nothing for me, either.

[twig-tea]

Oppan 1 for 11, what a show

Final count: Out of the 11 episodes of Ossan no pantsu ga nandatte ii janai ka, I have cried watching 10 of them. Some of those were outright sobs. Most of them got me more than once, including this final episode. And I loved every minute. I put off writing this post because I didn't want to feel like it was really over!

This was a perfect finale, bringing together the relationships and lessons built over the course of the previous 10 episodes to culminate in an extremely satisfying showdown with Daichi's father, who was a fantastic final boss because he was so realistic. The things this man spewed were the worst kind of prejudice: based in reality and couched in concern for the person they were being said to, even while they were shortsighted, hurtful, and wrong-headed ways of thinking. But that kind of polite rhetoric is so difficult to counter in the moment. I like that everyone was ready to face an angry bigot, but not the wall of polite hate that he represented, and that it took time for everyone to regroup.

Kakeru speaking up with his new friends and telling Shizuka not to change her look for a guy was such a good sequence. He tries to speak up and is misunderstood; he later explains he likes her the way she is, and that's what motivated him to speak up. And how much do I love their friends preparing to support Shizuka by finding a different karaoke spot in case her confession fails?

I'm also so glad we came back to Moe and her concerns about her future, as well as Mika and her love for her job (and how it enables her fangirling). Everyone going through it at the same time was a good choice, and I love Makoto understanding what's wrong with each of them and supporting all of them through their realizations that they can't suppress or let go of the things that bring them joy just because adulthood tries to tell them they 'should'. Moe and Mika's determination for each of their passions was beautiful.

The conflict between Madoka and Daichi was also so well earned; there is a lot this couple will still need to work through, around their instincts to suppress their hurt in order to not influence one another. Daichi did that with Madoka around Madoka dragging his feet on coming out to his family, and then Madoka did the same to Daichi around Daichi not being willing to dismiss his father's concerns about their relationship. The way Daichi isolated and lost the will to fight back was also such a good rehash of themes in this show overall: When we're hurt by interacting with others, our instinct tends to be to withdraw, but it is only through interacting with others that we can heal and move past that hurt. I like that Makoto felt his withdrawal and it motivated him to stop it.

Furuike's party and speech was such a beautiful end to this character's arc with this team. Thank you @lurkingshan for typing out this whole speech so that I don't have to, because I need to remember it forever. Don't get used to yourself! And Furuike hearing that Shimura noticed his health, and came to the conclusion that she is a quality employee who should be promoted, was a beautiful moment.

Makoto noting that the Okita family is doing ok, but still deciding to rock the boat and help Daichi was such a beautiful expression of Daichi's place in his life now, and their importance to each other. And that inspiring Kakeru was also beautiful. I love the continued theme that when you nurture your individual relationships, all of your relationships improve as a result.

The Okita family showing up to this dinner in their themed clothing as armour really got to me. They are all wearing their hearts on their chests. And how much did I love Kakeru wearing the necklace his father won for him at the festival?!

Makoto's speech to Daichi's father was such a stellar moment for this character, reminding us why he went on this journey in the first place. Seeing the flashback to Makoto's first interaction with Daichi was such a good reminder of how far this character has come. What an incredible journey. Makoto finally understands that fitting into society and avoiding societal judgment is not the same thing as happiness, and that happiness is actually critical.

I'm obsessed with how Daichi spends most of that speech staring at Madoka as he realizes what Madoka has been not saying to him, and how much Madoka was trying to demonstrate care (though these two definitely need to work on their communication and stop holding back to protect one another in the future!). "If I change this about myself, I won't be me anymore" gave me legitimate shivers. Daichi as a character is such a gift.

Daichi's father being unable to accept everything, leaving the dinner, and not attending the wedding was satisfying and realistic. The point of this show is not that the world is perfect but that it's important we find a way to nurture our own happiness and the happiness of our loved ones in the world we have, by being kind to others and ourselves.

Tears Watch (I cried so many times this finale):

"Why are there so many obstacles to overcome if you're gay?"

I don't think I actually cried when Furuike gave his speech but it choked me up hard

Shizuka saying thank you to Kakeru got me; even though she was rejected, she was still happy she confessed as herself in the end

"Eventually I realized how many tears Daichi-kun must have shed to be able to laugh like that"

Daichi admitting to his mother that he really wanted his father to accept him and still has hope that he will, and she says she's not sure he ever will, but she'll always be on Daichi's side really got to me.

The nods between Daichi and Makoto after the dinner and at the wedding, and of course the ending montage made me cry

What an incredible show. I don't think I'll ever forget it. Thank you again @isaksbestpillow for sharing this show with us!

[thesilliestofgals]

Hello everyone, I'm making this huge post because I'm hyperfixated on what's going down in the Ever After High fandom right now, and I need to type all my thoughts out. So, get your tinfoil hats ready folks, because it's speculation and theorizing time.

DISCLAIMER: this is all just speculation and/or incoherent rambling. I'm putting it under the cut because... it's a little long lol (if you see any grammatical and/or spelling errors ...no you don't)

Earlier today, January 5th (or January 4th, depending on your timezone) Mattel released a "new" song for Ever After High, "Can't Get Me Down" (you'll see why I put new in quotation marks in a bit). Reaction to the song itself was... mixed, with some really liking it, some not liking it, and some being more neutral. The reason why this sent the fandom into a frenzy is because, obviously, this is our first real content from the actual source since the series ended in 2018.

Tin foil hat time, I don't think this song is "new" at all. I'm speculating that this song was in the Mattel's equivalent of The Vault for a long time, which could explain a lot about why it sounds janky and almost ai. Also, I saw some people saying it reminded them of Taylor Swift, and we know, canonically, Taylor Swift exists the EAH universe as Tailor Quick, and Raven is a fan of her. Adding on the fact that Raven is used as the cover for this song, I suspect she would've sung this either in a webisode, or more likely a special, but it got cut for whatever reason.

Here we get to my biggest point: why now? Why would Mattel, with no promotion beforehand, just drop this out of the blue? I saw someone suggest it was a mistake, and I saw someone else suggest that this was leaked by some employee, but I don't think either of those are the case- if they were, it likely would've been taken down already.

I shared this theory through an ask, but I'll reiterate it here: My theory is Mattel is using this as a tactic see how people would respond to the idea of EAH making a comeback.

I think EAH making a comeback now kind of makes sense- look at what happened during it's downfall; iirc doll sales were low, but also, Disney had created Descendants. This is a bit more into conspiracy theory territory, but from what I've heard discussed, many think Disney's creation of Descendants was the nail in the coffin for EAH. It's also common knowledge that Disney is extremely territorial about fairytales, and especially when it comes to princesses, so them making Descendants to assure EAH's decline... checks out. With Disney not doing well now, Mattel could be trying to take advantage of that. But that's just my theory, I could be totally wrong and Mattel could be doing this for some other completely random reason.

There was also some other stuff about trademarks, but I'm not good with that kind of stuff, so you can read more about that here.

TL;DR: this situation is very *exaggerated and vague hand waving in air* as you can tell by this post, so while we can continue speculating and/or doing our own digging, I think it'd be best to keep an eye out to see if Mattel releases any more songs, or even any announcements/statements.

If I forgot anything or explained this poorly, I apologize!! Please let me know if I did either and I will try and correct that!!

[clearancecreedwatersurvival]

Okay so here’s my thoughts on the staffcon thing.

I still think collapsing reblogs so posts look more like other social media isn’t gonna work as a feature but they will probably roll them back a little and at least add a toggle off for it if they try it and enough people submit feedback. Edit: this is actually less of an issue, most of the discussion is based on a misrepresentation of what’s happening. They’re just making it easier to scroll past long posts. EDIT AGAIN: actually some people already have the initial roll out of the feature and it. Is bad.

I think submitting feedback is a takeaway. There was a pretty clear effort to just remind the user base that there are real humans on the other side of a paycheck having to read and respond to the inputs of every feedback method on the site, which is fair. It’s easy to be an asshole online in any semi anonymous platform and that is something that tumblr culture takes a certain bloodthirsty pleasure in.

And yes, of course, user complaints about issues such as accessibility and the many ongoing glitches and bots and the search function, etc. are valid and do need to be addressed. But at the very least it would be cool if we as users maybe try to cultivate a slightly less pitchforky social norm when submitting feedback about changes to the site. The ceo is not reading every @ to his blog. One of his employees is. The people reading all of the feedback are just people doing their jobs. All jobs suck under capitalism, maybe we could try not to make their jobs actively worse.

Would you be rude to an overworked server in a restaurant? No? Cool also try to not be a dick to the person getting paid to answer customer or user complaints.

Related to that, funding. Many current and former members of staff have been pretty frank about funding in the past. The company is trying to at the very least breakeven, which not a single company who has owned tumblr has managed because the hosting fees for this site are insane due to all of the stuff on it.

If they don’t get it to breakeven they’ll hopefully best case just open source the website which is a method they’ve done in the past. And it would probably work, and then the website would to my understanding be being maintained by users. Now this is where my understanding gets fuzzy so anyone with more knowledge of how this would shake out feel free to chime in. But my understanding is that the source code for the site would be opened up and maintained by the community likely through mostly volunteer work. I would guess largely uncompensated.

So personally I think maybe the vitriolic response to every change they make going forward to try and monetize the site and pay even some of the cost of operation is perhaps a bit overblown, because they’re still trying to find a way to keep paying those people to work on tumblr, and I think people continuing to be paid for the work they do is better than volunteers doing unpaid labor.

I do also think there’s a secret third option for automattic and every other company finding themselves with a worse outlook now the Silicon Valley bubble has started to really burst, and that is for all existing staff members to unionize and then turn the whole thing into a worker coop. Much more stable organizational structures. Worker coops are also one of my favorite short term solutions to many other systemic problems we are currently experiencing.

I do hope this site continues to exist for many years, especially as it is one of the only places on the internet where the culture makes it safer to talk about some of the more permanent and long term solutions to various systemic issues that function within societies. Also funny text posts.

[tuliptiger]

Hello again! House/life update.

I am in a much better place mentally but really rather the same financially. I am currently laid off for a month seasonally since I'm still not a permanent employee. I have something in the works I'm hoping plays out so that I have a permanent position and worst case scenario I go back to work May 6th as a temp for 6 more months. I have side jobs and unemployment lined up in the mean time.

Anyway though! On to the house. Disappointing news but honest news in terms of the first contractor we hired. We still haven't gotten money back from him.

Recap: my mom and I fired him because he lied to us, charged tools on our account we up front said not to do, built a shoddy excuse of a foundation and frame for my house that we eventually had to pay our current contractor to demolish because it was so bad. It was for all definitions a different house the original contractor built. He used the wrong framing type for the blueprint and didn't even use framing nails to the city code. He wasn't even on site for 90% of the build and seemingly subcontracted it out which we didn't know.

In addition my mom is...not the best person to work with and makes a lot of mistakes. She's not a critical thinker on a lot of things. I made the mistake of asking her to help me buy land and build a house in the pursuit of escaping my generational poverty. I made the second mistake of asking her to take on individual responsibilities and not step in when the red flags started coming up.

I left her in charge of getting the money back from the OG contractor since she had all contact with him and she was originally the one who found him. That went as well as anyone could guess and she's, in summary, procrastinated doing any proper paperwork for attorneys or the contract board. I keep pushing her and she always says she'll get to it this day or that day or hits a dead end and then it goes nowhere.

This would not be a big issue but we're talking more than $20,000 he did in damages and $1,000 he directly stole from us like straight up $1,000 we handed him to do work he never did. The donations everyone has been sending in slowly are very much appreciated and remind me to keep fighting for this.

At this point I just want to get the house done so I can be done with the contractors and done with my mother. I don't want to be in this situation anymore and it's been dragged out for 3 years now. I've added pictures of where the house is at now and most of it having been done in January and February.

As the electric was finished and passed inspection I'm waiting in the HVAC and plumbing as the last things professionals must do before I can finish the house. I've started putting in flooring and the wood stove was just delivered so things are still moving.

The donations haven't covered anything large from the build but it has covered smaller things (I've used it for nails, locks for the doors, etc.) and given me strength to continue. Motivation from strangers, acquaintances and friends to not just walk away and to keep my head in the right space. I've emotionally and mentally been in a better place since I initially made the gofundme which has helped.

Anyway I've been meaning to make this for awhile and I'm sorry for the delay. I've been working my full time job before I was laid off, my side gigs, working on the house, still living out of my car and trying to work with my mother. I appreciate everyone who's been invested in this, shared it and donated. More updates will come in the future and thank you all again.

[delcakoo]

hey ema I dunno if your requests are still open but I was wondering if you could make a scenario in where reader is studying at a café for her periodic exam, and jungwon is a barista if that made sense haha. so like barista!jungwon x fem!reader ehrejerje

how are you? how's school? currently studying😔😭

helloo love, i have a cold rn but i’m alive T-T ty for asking jsjndjs, my requests are closed but since i need a distraction from blowing my nose every 5 seconds.. here u go <3 and good luck studying! me and jungwon are cheering for you!! (SOFT HOURS ARE CLOSED!)

9:51PM — you simply refuse to take a glance outside the small cafe’s window. it would only be a reminder that you’d just spent your entire, precious saturday afternoon studying things that were, frankly, a bunch of nonsenical bullshit.

but either way, this was the school system — you had no other choice but to continue copying notes onto your cue cards and sighing at the low humming emitting from your laptop, the poor device practically screaming, ‘give me a break you lunatic!’.

the only thing keeping you sane throughout the whole night spent in the now dreadfully empty cafe was the cute boy who’d been serving you since you arrived, and perhaps your cup of coffee that was sat depressingly on the table in front of you.

when you finally look up from your notes, you realise it’s only the two of you left in said coffee shop. jungwon, his name tag read, was now wiping down the tables, sleeves pulled above his elbows and coal shaded hair bouncing everytime he strokes the wood clean.

he seems to be at peace and strangely satisfied with what he’s doing, taking his sweet time to wash every corner, contrary to most employees who’d probably be doing a half-assed job by now in hopes of closing up quicker.

it seems he must’ve felt your staring; soft cat eyes with a hint of exhaustion raising to meet your own equally as tired ones.

jungwon sends you a smile, so you offer him a perk of your own lips in return.

before you can greet him, he catches you off guard in the worst way possible, “what’s the political ideology with one dictator that controls the lives of—“

“fascism!” you blurt before he can even finish, immediately flushing in embarassment. the boy swiftly bends over in laughter, nose scrunching adorably and a dimple poking through the apple of his cheek.

“oh my god, you’re crazy!” he cackles, leaning on the table with a disbelieving gaze in your direction.

you giggle as well almost painfully, resting your head in your palms. “stop, i’m going insane. all i can think of is politics now,” you wince. “how’d you know i was studying that?”

jungwon gives you a smirk that makes your heart flutter involuntarily, “dunno, maybe ‘cause i’ve been watching you sit there since what.. three, two pm?”

you groan, “don’t remind me.”

the raven haired boy sends you a sympathetic glance before picking up his washcloth, continuing to scrub the table in front of him. despite the fact his arms must be aching by now, jungwon puts just as much effort into his duty as before. your eyes shimmer with admiration, watching him bite his lip in concentration.

“once i’m done with these last tables, i can help you go over it one more time before closing.” you jump slightly at his sudden suggestion, almost getting lost in the comforting sight of this stranger.

you raise a hand in disagreement, “oh, no, you must be dying to go home, you don’t have to do that.”

“true,” jungwon admits, “but.. i don’t wanna say bye to you yet.” an unreadable glint is in his eyes as he stares down at you from across the cafe, the ends of his lips perking up in amusement at your gaping expression.

what does that mean? your heart pounds faster in your chest, gulping down an incoming burst or butterflies.

“o-oh. in that case, me neither.” you find yourself fidgeting like you’re back in high school, talking to your first crush.

he beams at your words, “great, give me five minutes.”

at that moment, you decide that you’ll definitely be coming back to this cafe, exam or not.

if you enjoyed, reblogs n’ comments are always appreciated!

[sai-lec]

it’s almost the 8th so happy international women’s day to the major resurgence of absolute sexism and misogyny that the recent situation with christian horner has brought to the female fans and employees of f1 .

regardless of where you stand on the sketchy af handlings of the horner issues the potential of a false claim from a female employee has provided an excuse for male fans to harass and degrade female fans expressing their discomfort with the situation and the treatment of the women involved- particularly in the doxxing and bullying of the woman who initially submitted the claim before the investigation had even ended. Women across tumblr, twitter, tiktok and all have been pushed into retracting their feelings, deleting their posts and videos on the situation from the sheer scale of hate and harassment at the hands of misogynistic fans because ‘allegations ruins men’s lives’. Completely ignorant are they to the fact that they are active participants in the ruining of a potential victims life by exposing and sharing her personal details, and continuing create environments where women are unable to speak about their experiences with sexual harassment and assault .

Ignorant are they to the fact that they are maintaining patriarchal standards that they claim are non existent to ensure that women understand their issues are not important . the 2% chance that an allegation is false is by far the greater are more believable problem than a woman experiencing sexual misconduct at the hands of her employer . not to mention that the majority of sexual assault and rape cases do not revive a sentencing . that doesn’t mean they didn’t happen or that the victim lied. just that the board saw the evidence as inconclusive or not enough to support prosecution . sa and rape have the lowest prosecution rates of violent crimes . also quickly a reminder he was never cleared. huge complaint was dismissed. the word innocent was never used and the lack of transparency on the investigation doesn’t tell us anything of his innocence .

the responses from drivers again go on to validate misogynistic men’s feelings by labelling the potential sexual misconduct of a team principle as ‘noise and distractions’ or that it doesn’t matter to them . it’s irrelevant. and yes i understand that they mean they don’t want to comment on the situation because of its personal nature but that’s not what they’re saying . by trivialising matters of sexual misconduct as mere chatter and sympathising with a potential abuser it’s speaking to your female fans that you are not an advocate for their safety . it says they don’t take sexual harassment seriously .

what they could have said was ‘the matter is not something i’m personally involved in so i can’t provide insight or comment other than my hopes for it to be resolved quickly and fairly with full transparency’ . instead their responses directly downplayed the situation at hand, ignorantly dismissing the weight of the situation its its affect on women across formula 1 by essentially saying ‘who cares’ and provide pathway for misogynistic fans to follow suit .

formula 1 is a sport which in recent years has leaned into welcoming women into the sport, and this is seen by the rotated dynamic of women in f1 from ‘something good to look at before the race’ as comments regarding the grid girls would have it to a grid of 16 cars fully backed by all f1 teams for women to compete in their own formula racing series . this has welcomed a lot more women into the space. however, it cannot force attitudes to change . the only way we will see real change in f1 is to encourage personal growth for both fans and employees wether they be drivers, mechanics whoever . the work needs to be done to truly welcome women into the space that is currently occupied by them in motorsport . and they can start by taking us seriously .

[agust28]

love in the grocery store 2

pairing jaehyun x reader WC ? tags fluff Notes Sorry for the parts I didn't want to but Tumblr had a limit :( Also I literally rewrote the plot like 5 times and have at least 7 drafts In my notes. I wasn’t sure how to link part 2 on the part 1 post sorry again :(

Not even 2 weeks later you find yourself going back. Okay, to be fair, prices were getting outrageously high! You couldn’t keep convincing yourself that splurging on the groceries was better than going back to the forbidden store. Your mind constantly being reminded of the cute employee might have also played a part in the decision, but you’ll never admit that. You had to prep yourself in the car for about 20 minutes before actually entering the store. It sadly didn’t work because as soon as you walk in you wanted to walk out. Think about the prices, think about the prices, think about— “Excuse me,” an annoyed customer shoves you aside. “Sorry,” you squeak out, already embarrassing yourself, and you haven’t walked 5 feet into the store! You exhale before grabbing a cart, which did not fight this time, and head in. You look around trying to spot the cute employee from last time but no luck. You don’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. Shaking your head, you remember why you’re here, and that’s to get groceries and head out. No detours! Most of your list has been crossed off except for the milk. It was a bit difficult to navigate since you were so used to your old grocery store. You're about to turn the aisle when you accidentally bump into someone. “Sorry! I—” you look up, and it’s like déjà vu. Before your mind can melt into a puddle, he speaks. “Oh hey! You’re the girl who fell into the carts!” His face of surprise morphs into concern. “Are you okay now? You didn’t look too good last time.” Speak, woman, speak! “Yes! I’m okay!” You say a bit loudly, startling him from your enthusiasm. Please universe, just let me shop in peace! “Ah, that’s good! You ran out before I could get a good look.” You look away from embarrassment, hoping this interaction would just end. “Yeah, uh, sorry, it was kind of embarrassing.” He smiles, watching your cheeks blush. “No worries, I totally understand! Well, I’ll let you get back to shopping.” He turns to walk away when you suddenly remember that you still need milk. “Wait! Where can I find the milk?” He turns around and tells you which aisle it’s in. “Or I could just show you? If you’d like.” He rushes the last sentence as if he expects you to turn him down. You nod your head yes, and he smiles widely at that. “Ok, follow me!” You follow next to him as he leads you both to the dairy section. You’re walking side by side when he takes a look into your cart. “You’ve got a cat? I love cats!” You smile brightly at that. Cute and an animal lover? You could melt. “Yeah, one cat and one dog,” you say, pointing to the dog shirt that’s also in your cart. You both continue to share your love for animals before he stops. “Well, this is the milk,” he points towards the wall of milk. You thank him and grab a gallon. From the corner of your eye, you still see the cute clerk standing near you, looking as if he has something to say. As you contemplate whether you should ask if something was wrong, he taps you on your shoulder. “Hi, I probably shouldn’t be doing this but um—” he stops to look around a little uneasy “sorry, I thought I saw my manager.” He breathes out and continues, “I was just wondering if I could have your number?” You’re taken aback because this is the last thing you imagined coming out of his mouth. He takes your surprise as disgust and immediately starts to backtrack. “Sorry! I just thought you were cute! And wanted to have your number to check up on you!” Now you're laughing. “Check up on me?” He sees your smile and visibly relaxes. “Yeah, you know that fall looked really hard. It'd be good to have my number just in case.” You smirk. “In case of what? I fall on your very dangerous carts again?” “Exactly!” He pulls out his phone and hands it over to you, hoping you'd agree to exchanging numbers. And of course, you do! You'd be crazy not to. The two of you exchange numbers and names and bid farewell. You step out with groceries that will no longer cost a leg and a new contact that you'll hopefully keep in touch with.

[mothxmoons]

I like the wesker and Chris asks where Chris is getting wesker jealous over reader. Can I request something something more about jealous wesker? Maybe Chris and Jill getting wesker jealous?

Oooo intentionally getting him jealous…I’m invested

“You’re going to get in trouble…again, you know?” You chastised your two teammates as they made kissy noises at you.

“Not our fault you’re pretty.” Jill responded, leaning on your desk, Chris behind you, resting on your chair.

You rolled your eyes as the two kept making compliments, even when trying to do your own work, they always seem to compliment you on something. You’ve gotten so used to it, it doesn’t even faze you anymore.

They got into trouble for flirting with you before, they were night cleaning duty for a week and they just got off of that. Wesker was not happy with either of them. You knew why, he liked you, but he hasn’t said anything yet. Which is why you indulge in these two flirting with you. If he wasn’t going to say anything, then why should you care? Until he does, these two are more than welcome to flirt with you all they like, even if it pissed him off.

And boy did it piss Wesker off. You could practically feel the glare from where he stood in his office, watching from the window. Just staring at Chris and Jill. It was only a matter of time before he came over and these two got an earful and a punishment and then you would get scolded yourself. You smiled and chuckled at one of Chris’s pick up lines, covering your eyes as you snorted at it.

“Haha! See? I’m the better flirt-er for them!” Chris bragged to Jill, who merely rolled her eyes and disagreed, “More like a pity chuckle, I’m the one who gets them to fluster.”

The argument went on before a certain commanding voice rang out over the rest,

“Detective. I need to speak with you for a moment.”

Wesker stood a few feet away from you, just outside his office door, motioning you over. You pushed Chris back with your chair, tauntingly waving your fingers at them as you left. They chuckled behind their hands, but you all knew they were going to get a scolding later too.

“Do I need to remind you every time not to flirt during work hours?” He asked, shutting the door behind you two.

“It’s not like I have a partner to keep me from flirting, Captain,” You replied, sitting down in one of the chairs, “Besides, flirting during work hours is fine as long as you’re not bugging other employees.”

He sat at his desk with a sigh, you could practically see him rolling his eyes at you. You smiled at him and continued,

“You were the one to come up to us, why do you have a problem with who’s flirting with me?”

He tapped his thumbs together, interlocked with each other.

“Detective, I don’t see how that’s exactly relevant-“

“It is relevant. Others flirt in the office, but when it comes to me you suddenly have a problem.”

“That is no way to speak to your captain-“

“I just want to know why you’re so intent on me not pursuing a romantic relationship with Jill or Chris.” You cut him once again, eyebrows arched as you stared back at him, “Why can’t I flirt-“

“Because, dammit! I like you.” He stood up with that statement, papers pushed forward.

A silence filled the room when he said that, eyes wide with shock as he slowly sat back down, clearing his throat, and setting down his shades.

“I like you…and I’d like it if you could go out on a date with me.”

“Captain…I’d love to.”

“Oh…good…” He replied, tone soft, a soft smile on his face before a small smirk replaced it, “I need to tell Jill and Chris they’re reorganizing all case files this week. Wait here, my dear.”

He stalked through the door, shades in hand, with a smirk to you before he closed the door once again.

Ah…you’ll need to tell Chris and Jill you’re not into the whole flirting thing.