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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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Gig apps trap reverse centaurs in Skinner boxes

Enshittification is the process by which digital platforms devour themselves: first they dangle goodies in front of end users. Once users are locked in, the goodies are taken away and dangled before business customers who supply goods to the users. Once those business customers are stuck on the platform, the goodies are clawed away and showered on the platform’s shareholders:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

Enshittification isn’t just another way of saying “fraud” or “price gouging” or “wage theft.” Enshittification is intrinsically digital, because moving all those goodies around requires the flexibility that only comes with a digital businesses. Jeff Bezos, grocer, can’t rapidly change the price of eggs at Whole Foods without an army of kids with pricing guns on roller-skates. Jeff Bezos, grocer, can change the price of eggs on Amazon Fresh just by twiddling a knob on the service’s back-end.

Twiddling is the key to enshittification: rapidly adjusting prices, conditions and offers. As with any shell game, the quickness of the hand deceives the eye. Tech monopolists aren’t smarter than the Gilded Age sociopaths who monopolized rail or coal — they use the same tricks as those monsters of history, but they do them faster and with computers:

https://doctorow.medium.com/twiddler-1b5c9690cce6

If Rockefeller wanted to crush a freight company, he couldn’t just click a mouse and lay down a pipeline that ran on the same route, and then click another mouse to make it go away when he was done. When Bezos wants to bankrupt Diapers.com — a company that refused to sell itself to Amazon — he just moved a slider so that diapers on Amazon were being sold below cost. Amazon lost $100m over three months, diapers.com went bankrupt, and every investor learned that competing with Amazon was a losing bet:

https://slate.com/technology/2013/10/amazon-book-how-jeff-bezos-went-thermonuclear-on-diapers-com.html

That’s the power of twiddling — but twiddling cuts both ways. The same flexibility that digital businesses enjoy is hypothetically available to workers and users. The airlines pioneered twiddling ticket prices, and that naturally gave rise to countertwiddling, in the form of comparison shopping sites that scraped the airlines’ sites to predict when tickets would be cheapest:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/27/knob-jockeys/#bros-be-twiddlin

The airlines — like all abusive businesses — refused to tolerate this. They were allowed to touch their knobs as much as they wanted — indeed, they couldn’t stop touching those knobs — but when we tried to twiddle back, that was “felony contempt of business model,” and the airlines sued:

https://www.cnbc.com/2014/12/30/airline-sues-man-for-founding-a-cheap-flights-website.html

And sued:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/01/06/business/southwest-airlines-lawsuit-prices.html

Platforms don’t just hate it when end-users twiddle back — if anything they are even more aggressive when their business-users dare to twiddle. Take Para, an app that Doordash drivers used to get a peek at the wages offered for jobs before they accepted them — something that Doordash hid from its workers. Doordash ruthlessly attacked Para, saying that by letting drivers know how much they’d earn before they did the work, Para was violating the law:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/tech-rights-are-workers-rights-doordash-edition

Which law? Well, take your pick. The modern meaning of “IP” is “any law that lets me use the law to control my competitors, competition or customers.” Platforms use a mix of anticircumvention law, patent, copyright, contract, cybersecurity and other legal systems to weave together a thicket of rules that allow them to shut down rivals for their Felony Contempt of Business Model:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

Enshittification relies on unlimited twiddling (by platforms), and a general prohibition on countertwiddling (by platform users). Enshittification is a form of fishing, in which bait is dangled before different groups of users and then nimbly withdrawn when they lunge for it. Twiddling puts the suppleness into the enshittifier’s fishing-rod, and a ban on countertwiddling weighs down platform users so they’re always a bit too slow to catch the bait.

Nowhere do we see twiddling’s impact more than in the “gig economy,” where workers are misclassified as independent contractors and put to work for an app that scripts their every move to the finest degree. When an app is your boss, you work for an employer who docks your pay for violating rules that you aren’t allowed to know — and where your attempts to learn those rules are constantly frustrated by the endless back-end twiddling that changes the rules faster than you can learn them.

As with every question of technology, the issue isn’t twiddling per se — it’s who does the twiddling and who gets twiddled. A worker armed with digital tools can play gig work employers off each other and force them to bid up the price of their labor; they can form co-ops with other workers that auto-refuse jobs that don’t pay enough, and use digital tools to organize to shift power from bosses to workers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/02/not-what-it-does/#who-it-does-it-to

Take “reverse centaurs.” In AI research, a “centaur” is a human assisted by a machine that does more than either could do on their own. For example, a chess master and a chess program can play a better game together than either could play separately. A reverse centaur is a machine assisted by a human, where the machine is in charge and the human is a meat-puppet.

Think of Amazon warehouse workers wearing haptic location-aware wristbands that buzz at them continuously dictating where their hands must be; or Amazon drivers whose eye-movements are continuously tracked in order to penalize drivers who look in the “wrong” direction:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/17/reverse-centaur/#reverse-centaur

The difference between a centaur and a reverse centaur is the difference between a machine that makes your life better and a machine that makes your life worse so that your boss gets richer. Reverse centaurism is the 21st Century’s answer to Taylorism, the pseudoscience that saw white-coated “experts” subject workers to humiliating choreography down to the smallest movement of your fingertip:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/21/great-taylors-ghost/#solidarity-or-bust

While reverse centaurism was born in warehouses and other company-owned facilities, gig work let it make the leap into workers’ homes and cars. The 21st century has seen a return to the cottage industry — a form of production that once saw workers labor far from their bosses and thus beyond their control — but shriven of the autonomy and dignity that working from home once afforded:

https://doctorow.medium.com/gig-work-is-the-opposite-of-steampunk-463e2730ef0d

The rise and rise of bossware — which allows for remote surveillance of workers in their homes and cars — has turned “work from home” into “live at work.” Reverse centaurs can now be chickenized — a term from labor economics that describes how poultry farmers, who sell their birds to one of three vast poultry processors who have divided up the country like the Pope dividing up the “New World,” are uniquely exploited:

https://onezero.medium.com/revenge-of-the-chickenized-reverse-centaurs-b2e8d5cda826

A chickenized reverse centaur has it rough: they must pay for the machines they use to make money for their bosses, they must obey the orders of the app that controls their work, and they are denied any of the protections that a traditional worker might enjoy, even as they are prohibited from deploying digital self-help measures that let them twiddle back to bargain for a better wage.

All of this sets the stage for a phenomenon called algorithmic wage discrimination, in which two workers doing the same job under the same conditions will see radically different payouts for that work. These payouts are continuously tweaked in the background by an algorithm that tries to predict the minimum sum a worker will accept to remain available without payment, to ensure sufficient workers to pick up jobs as they arise.

This phenomenon — and proposed policy and labor solutions to it — is expertly analyzed in “On Algorithmic Wage Discrimination,” a superb paper by UC Law San Franciscos Veena Dubal:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=4331080

Dubal uses empirical data and enthnographic accounts from Uber drivers and other gig workers to explain how endless, self-directed twiddling allows gig companies pay workers less and pay themselves more. As @[email protected] explains in his LA Times article on Dubal’s research, the goal of the payment algorithm is to guess how often a given driver needs to receive fair compensation in order to keep them driving when the payments are unfair:

https://www.latimes.com/business/technology/story/2023-04-11/algorithmic-wage-discrimination

The algorithm combines nonconsensual dossiers compiled on individual drivers with population-scale data to seek an equilibrium between keeping drivers waiting, unpaid, for a job; and how much a driver needs to be paid for an individual job, in order to keep that driver from clocking out and doing something else. @ Here’s how that works. Sergio Avedian, a writer for The Rideshare Guy, ran an experiment with two brothers who both drove for Uber; one drove a Tesla and drove intermittently, the other brother rented a hybrid sedan and drove frequently. Sitting side-by-side with the brothers, Avedian showed how the brother with the Tesla was offered more for every trip:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UADTiL3S67I

Uber wants to lure intermittent drivers into becoming frequent drivers. Uber doesn’t pay for an oversupply of drivers, because it only pays drivers when they have a passenger in the car. Having drivers on call — but idle — is a way for Uber to shift the cost of maintaining a capacity cushion to its workers.

What’s more, what Uber charges customers is not based on how much it pays its workers. As Uber’s head of product explained: Uber uses “machine-learning techniques to estimate how much groups of customers are willing to shell out for a ride. Uber calculates riders’ propensity for paying a higher price for a particular route at a certain time of day. For instance, someone traveling from a wealthy neighborhood to another tony spot might be asked to pay more than another person heading to a poorer part of town, even if demand, traffic and distance are the same.”

https://qz.com/990131/uber-is-practicing-price-discrimination-economists-say-that-might-not-be-a-bad-thing/

Uber has historically described its business a pure supply-and-demand matching system, where a rush of demand for rides triggers surge pricing, which lures out drivers, which takes care of the demand. That’s not how it works today, and it’s unclear if it ever worked that way. Today, a driver who consults the rider version of the Uber app before accepting a job — to compare how much the rider is paying to how much they stand to earn — is booted off the app and denied further journeys.

Surging, instead, has become just another way to twiddle drivers. One of Dubal’s subjects, Derrick, describes how Uber uses fake surges to lure drivers to airports: “You go to the airport, once the lot get kind of full, then the surge go away.” Other drivers describe how they use groupchats to call out fake surges: “I’m in the Marina. It’s dead. Fake surge.”

That’s pure twiddling. Twiddling turns gamification into gamblification, where your labor buys you a spin on a roulette wheel in a rigged casino. As a driver called Melissa, who had doubled down on her availability to earn a $100 bonus awarded for clocking a certain number of rides, told Dubal, “When you get close to the bonus, the rides start trickling in more slowly…. And it makes sense. It’s really the type of shit that they can do when it’s okay to have a surplus labor force that is just sitting there that they don’t have to pay for.”

Wherever you find reverse-centaurs, you get this kind of gamblification, where the rules are twiddled continuously to make sure that the house always wins. As a contract driver Amazon reverse centaur told Lauren Gurley for Motherboard, “Amazon uses these cameras allegedly to make sure they have a safer driving workforce, but they’re actually using them not to pay delivery companies”:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/88npjv/amazons-ai-cameras-are-punishing-drivers-for-mistakes-they-didnt-make

Algorithmic wage discrimination is the robot overlord of our nightmares: its job is to relentlessly quest for vulnerabilities and exploit them. Drivers divide themselves into “ants” (drivers who take every job) and “pickers” (drivers who cherry-pick high-paying jobs). The algorithm’s job is ensuring that pickers get the plum assignments, not the ants, in the hopes of converting those pickers to app-dependent ants.

In my work on enshittification, I call this the “giant teddy bear” gambit. At every county fair, you’ll always spot some poor jerk carrying around a giant teddy-bear they “won” on the midway. But they didn’t win it — not by getting three balls in the peach-basket. Rather, the carny running the rigged game either chose not to operate the “scissor” that kicks balls out of the basket. Or, if the game is “honest” (that is, merely impossible to win, rather than gimmicked), the operator will make a too-good-to-refuse offer: “Get one ball in and I’ll give you this keychain. Win two keychains and I’ll let you trade them for this giant teddy bear.”

Carnies aren’t in the business of giving away giant teddy bears — rather, the gambit is an investment. Giving a mark a giant teddy bear to carry around the midway all day acts as a convincer, luring other marks to try to land three balls in the basket and win their own teddy bear.

In the same way, platforms like Uber distribute giant teddy bears to pickers, as a way of keeping the ants scurrying from job to job, and as a way of convincing the pickers to give up whatever work allows them to discriminate among Uber’s offers and hold out for the plum deals, whereupon then can be transmogrified into ants themselves.

Dubal describes the experience of Adil, a Syrian refugee who drives for Uber in the Bay Area. His colleagues are pickers, and showed him screenshots of how much they earned. Determined to get a share of that money, Adil became a model ant, driving two hours to San Francisco, driving three days straight, napping in his car, spending only one day per week with his family. The algorithm noticed that Adil needed the work, so it paid him less.

Adil responded the way the system predicted he would, by driving even more: “My friends they make it, so I keep going, maybe I can figure it out. It’s unsecure, and I don’t know how people they do it. I don’t know how I am doing it, but I have to. I mean, I don’t find another option. In a minute, if I find something else, oh man, I will be out immediately. I am a very patient person, that’s why I can continue.”

Another driver, Diego, told Dubal about how the winners of the giant teddy bears fell into the trap of thinking that they were “good at the app”: “Any time there’s some big shot getting high pay outs, they always shame everyone else and say you don’t know how to use the app. I think there’s secret PR campaigns going on that gives targeted payouts to select workers, and they just think it’s all them.”

That’s the power of twiddling: by hoarding all the flexibility offered by digital tools, the management at platforms can become centaurs, able to string along thousands of workers, while the workers are reverse-centaurs, puppeteered by the apps.

As the example of Adil shows, the algorithm doesn’t need to be very sophisticated in order to figure out which workers it can underpay. The system automates the kind of racial and gender discrimination that is formally illegal, but which is masked by the smokescreen of digitization. An employer who systematically paid women less than men, or Black people less than white people, would be liable to criminal and civil sanctions. But if an algorithm simply notices that people who have fewer job prospects drive more and will thus accept lower wages, that’s just “optimization,” not racism or sexism.

This is the key to understanding the AI hype bubble: when ghouls from multinational banks predict 13 trillion dollar markets for “AI,” what they mean is that digital tools will speed up the twiddling and other wage-suppression techniques to transfer $13T in value from workers and consumers to shareholders.

The American business lobby is relentlessly focused on the goal of reducing wages. That’s the force behind “free trade,” “right to work,” and other codewords for “paying workers less,” including “gig work.” Tech workers long saw themselves as above this fray, immune to labor exploitation because they worked for a noble profession that took care of its own.

But the epidemic of mass tech-worker layoffs, following on the heels of massive stock buybacks, has demonstrated that tech bosses are just like any other boss: willing to pay as little as they can get away with, and no more. Tech bosses are so comfortable with their market dominance and the lock-in of their customers that they are happy to turn out hundreds of thousands of skilled workers, convinced that the twiddling systems they’ve built are the kinds of self-licking ice-cream cones that are so simple even a manager can use them — no morlocks required.

The tech worker layoffs are best understood as an all-out war on tech worker morale, because that morale is the source of tech workers’ confidence and thus their demands for a larger share of the value generated by their labor. The current tech layoff template is very different from previous tech layoffs: today’s layoffs are taking place over a period of months, long after they are announced, and laid off tech worker is likely to be offered a months of paid post-layoff work, rather than severance. This means that tech workplaces are now haunted by the walking dead, workers who have been laid off but need to come into the office for months, even as the threat of layoffs looms over the heads of the workers who remain. As an old friend, recently laid off from Microsoft after decades of service, wrote to me, this is “a new arrow in the quiver of bringing tech workers to heel and ensuring that we’re properly thankful for the jobs we have (had?).”

Dubal is interested in more than analysis, she’s interested in action. She looks at the tactics already deployed by gig workers, who have not taken all this abuse lying down. Workers in the UK and EU organized through Worker Info Exchange and the App Drivers and Couriers Union have used the GDPR (the EU’s privacy law) to demand “algorithmic transparency,” as well as access to their data. In California, drivers hope to use similar provisions in the CCPA (a state privacy law) to do the same.

These efforts have borne fruit. When Cornell economists, led by Louis Hyman, published research (paid for by Uber) claiming that Uber drivers earned an average of $23/hour, it was data from these efforts that revealed the true average Uber driver’s wage was $9.74. Subsequent research in California found that Uber drivers’ wage fell to $6.22/hour after the passage of Prop 22, a worker misclassification law that gig companies spent $225m to pass, only to have the law struck down because of a careless drafting error:

https://www.latimes.com/california/newsletter/2021-08-23/proposition-22-lyft-uber-decision-essential-california

But Dubal is skeptical that data-coops and transparency will achieve transformative change and build real worker power. Knowing how the algorithm works is useful, but it doesn’t mean you can do anything about it, not least because the platform owners can keep touching their knobs, twiddling the payout schedule on their rigged slot-machines.

Data co-ops start from the proposition that “data extraction is an inevitable form of labor for which workers should be remunerated.” It makes on-the-job surveillance acceptable, provided that workers are compensated for the spying. But co-ops aren’t unions, and they don’t have the power to bargain for a fair price for that data, and coops themselves lack the vast resources — “to store, clean, and understand” — data.

Co-ops are also badly situated to understand the true value of the data that is extracted from their members: “Workers cannot know whether the data collected will, at the population level, violate the civil rights of others or amplifies their own social oppression.”

Instead, Dubal wants an outright, nonwaivable prohibition on algorithmic wage discrimination. Just make it illegal. If firms cannot use gambling mechanisms to control worker behavior through variable pay systems, they will have to find ways to maintain flexible workforces while paying their workforce predictable wages under an employment model. If a firm cannot manage wages through digitally-determined variable pay systems, then the firm is less likely to employ algorithmic management.”

In other words, rather than using market mechanisms too constrain platform twiddling, Dubal just wants to make certain kinds of twiddling illegal. This is a growing trend in legal scholarship. For example, the economist Ramsi Woodcock has proposed a ban on surge pricing as a per se violation of Section 1 of the Sherman Act:

https://ilr.law.uiowa.edu/print/volume-105-issue-4/the-efficient-queue-and-the-case-against-dynamic-pricing

Similarly, Dubal proposes that algorithmic wage discrimination violates another antitrust law: the Robinson-Patman Act, which “bans sellers from charging competing buyers different prices for the same commodity. Robinson-Patman enforcement was effectively halted under Reagan, kicking off a host of pathologies, like the rise of Walmart:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/27/walmarts-jackals/#cheater-sizes

I really liked Dubal’s legal reasoning and argument, and to it I would add a call to reinvigorate countertwiddling: reforming laws that get in the way of workers who want to reverse-engineer, spoof, and control the apps that currently control them. Adversarial interoperability (AKA competitive compatibility or comcom) is key tool for building worker power in an era of digital Taylorism:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

To see how that works, look to other jursidictions where workers have leapfrogged their European and American cousins, such as Indonesia, where gig workers and toolsmiths collaborate to make a whole suite of “tuyul apps,” which let them override the apps that gig companies expect them to use.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/08/tuyul-apps/#gojek

For example, ride-hailing companies won’t assign a train-station pickup to a driver unless they’re circling the station — which is incredibly dangerous during the congested moments after a train arrives. A tuyul app lets a driver park nearby and then spoof their phone’s GPS fix to the ridehailing company so that they appear to be right out front of the station.

In an ideal world, those workers would have a union, and be able to dictate the app’s functionality to their bosses. But workers shouldn’t have to wait for an ideal world: they don’t just need jam tomorrow — they need jam today. Tuyul apps, and apps like Para, which allow workers to extract more money under better working conditions, are a prelude to unionization and employer regulation, not a substitute for it.

Employers will not give workers one iota more power than they have to. Just look at the asymmetry between the regulation of union employees versus union busters. Under US law, employees of a union need to account for every single hour they work, every mile they drive, every location they visit, in public filings. Meanwhile, the union-busting industry — far larger and richer than unions — operate under a cloak of total secrecy, Workers aren’t even told which union busters their employers have hired — let alone get an accounting of how those union busters spend money, or how many of them are working undercover, pretending to be workers in order to sabotage the union.

Twiddling will only get an employer so far. Twiddling — like all “AI” — is based on analyzing the past to predict the future. The heuristics an algorithm creates to lure workers into their cars can’t account for rapid changes in the wider world, which is why companies who relied on “AI” scheduling apps (for example, to prevent their employees from logging enough hours to be entitled to benefits) were caught flatfooted by the Great Resignation.

Workers suddenly found themselves with bargaining power thanks to the departure of millions of workers — a mix of early retirees and workers who were killed or permanently disabled by covid — and they used that shortage to demand a larger share of the fruits of their labor. The outraged howls of the capital class at this development were telling: these companies are operated by the kinds of “capitalists” that MLK once identified, who want “socialism for the rich and rugged individualism for the poor.”

https://twitter.com/KaseyKlimes/status/821836823022354432/

There's only 5 days left in the Kickstarter campaign for the audiobook of my next novel, a post-cyberpunk anti-finance finance thriller about Silicon Valley scams called Red Team Blues. Amazon's Audible refuses to carry my audiobooks because they're DRM free, but crowdfunding makes them possible.

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probablyasocialecologist · 1 month

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The work-life balance literature tends to devolve into heroic stories of achievers. A common theme is the profile of Chris O’Neil, a male executive, who rises at 5:30 a.m. to meditate before he drops the kids at school and then goes to the club for more exercise before a full day of focused business. Many of these books follow Tony Schwartz’s Power of Full Engagement: Managing Energy, Not Time (2003), with his stress on maximizing personal energy (with exercise) rather than attempting to increase time free from work. An interesting variation is the books geared for the female reader and the debate about whether life and work can be reconciled. A prominent group argues that career women must “lean in” to work and make “life” (or family) time secondary in order to prove their commitment to the job. It sometimes is not obvious that these self-help writers have actually considered time in the work-life balance question. But time is a real, if often complex, problem: How much flextime is needed for family? Is giving more free time to workers with dependents really fair to those without such needs? These books seldom address the emergence of a “gig economy,” where flextime is less an issue and where unpredictable working hours are often more the problem. Note that in 2015 only a quarter of Walmart workers had a regular work schedule. Work-life books generally ignore the problems of all but the professional elite. This literature also seldom addresses the right or value of free time for personally attained happiness, only conceding the need (perhaps) of family care. In any case, its main thrust is to maximize personal efficiency, turning work and life into modernized versions of the old time-and-motion studies of early twentieth-century efficiency experts.

#neoliberalism #work #free time #gig economy

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robertreich · 8 months

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youtube

Why Do We Have Weekends?

Ladies and gentlemen…the weekend. Why do we have it?

The short answer: unions!

In the late nineteenth century, many workers labored 7 days a week, sometimes up to a grueling 100 hours in poor conditions.

Workers were fed up. Many began to unionize and take to the streets in protest.

Violence against them at the hands of corporate union busters and law enforcement was common. Many lost their lives. But they didn’t relent.

Organized labor kept up the pressure. Workers in the mining, printing, and railroad industries eventually won 8-hour-work days. Major corporations, most notably Ford Motor Company, began to heed calls to institute 5-day work weeks.

But most workers across the country were not guaranteed these benefits.

Then came Frances Perkins — President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Labor Secretary and the first woman cabinet secretary.

Before agreeing to the position, Perkins met with FDR to secure a guarantee that he would support her pro-labor agenda.To her surprise, FDR backed her.

In 1938, thanks to her advocacy and the momentum built by organized labor, Congress passed the Fair Labor Standards Act — which among many things ultimately established a 40-hour work week by forcing employers to pay time and a half for any hours worked beyond this limit.

And thus, created the weekend.

While many workers now enjoy weekends won by organized labor, the fight continues for those who don’t.

A rising number of contract employees, sometimes known as “gig workers,” are putting in backbreaking hours without the protections afforded to full-time workers.

Now is the time to renew the historic call of unions to make sure ALL workers are afforded the dignity — and time off from work — they deserve.

And who knows — maybe one day we’ll move to a three day weekend?

#youtube #The Weeknd #Music #Memes #Unions #Labor #Economics #Power #Politics #Video #Videos #Robert Reich

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rotandguts · 11 months

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✶ ┄ DRIVING IN CARS WITH BOYS

danny (evil dead rise) x fem!reader

summary: a workplace camaraderie spurs a string of late night drives with danny, each one bringing you closer to realising your feelings for one another.

word count: 8.3k

warnings: 18+ mdni, nsfw, semi-public sex, car sex, oral (m receiving), masturbation (f receiving), lowkey sexting lol, degradation if u squint tbh, mention of masturbation (m), DANNY IS 18+

A/N: okay so, i’ve just want to discuss how i’ve written danny but i just want to emphasise that i don’t want to erase the fact that he’s literally trans. i don’t have enough expertise writing from a trans point of view imo as i’m a cis female and i don’t want it to be offensive or tacky in anyway. so for this purpose i’ve just written danny as having a dick but i know how difficult it is for the trans community, especially trans youths and those with low income to receive certain types of gender affirming surgery and don’t want to just dismiss that. i hope that’s okay with everyone if anyone has any advice or anything lemme know!

publishing date ― may 22nd, 2023 | © rotandguts

✶

When Danny first got his licence, he took any chance he got to drive the family’s Buick Roadsmaster. While not as impressive as some of the vehicles his classmates had, the fact he was even able to access a car with the income his family possessed was enough for him. It also explained why he was still living with his mom while attending college.

To help his mother he’d taken to working at the local Henrietta’s pizza joint, making enough to just make ends meet. In combination with whatever DJing side gigs he could get, he was slowly starting to save up. Aside from monetary gain, the part time job also gave him a new social life. Everyone who worked there was a little older, working to save during college like himself. It gave him the chance to speak to others in a space away from class, and the job itself was pretty easy anyway - due to his ability to drive he’d get sent out on deliveries most of the time.

Normally he’d be fine with this, getting paid hourly plus keeping the tips he got from going door to door (minus the occasional inconvenience from a few annoying assholes or prank calls). But he started to actually miss joking around in the kitchen or front desk with his co-workers. Danny was by no means unpopular, he had his own small friendship group from high school that kept him steady, but meeting new people he genuinely got along with was nice. He was generally of a shy disposition, not one to reach out to others naturally, but a fiercely proud friend when you got to know him.

One person he began to miss in particular, was you. He’d recognised you from a few of his old high school classes, more on the quiet side like himself, usually folded over scribbling into your textbook. You were the only other person around his age working in Henrietta’s. He remembered that in school you kept to yourself but had plenty of friends on the committees you were on. Danny had remembered you were involved from an assembly talking about yearbook and prom committee, he thinks. He only attended after being threatened with detention if he skipped out to smoke under the bleachers with his friends. At work, you were the most talkative person there. He could tell how you had easily adapted in the extracurricular groups you were a part of from that skill alone.

Danny couldn’t really say he had ever tried to talk to you in school before, but when you both got to talking you would later admit that you hadn’t really made an effort to approach him either.

You had been working at Henrietta’s for similar reasons as Danny, you had initially joined in high school to save money to support yourself in college. After working there the past few years now, you’d seen classmates from both high school and college come and go but never really struck up a true friendship with them other than a wave or smile in the school hallways. All the other long term workers were post-graduates unable to put their diplomas to use and while it was handy for getting invited to college parties - you certainly felt a disconnect.

But then there was Danny.

Shy, kind, attractive Danny. You would be lying if you said you’d never noticed him in school. He was that one quiet cool kid that everyone just kind of liked. Good taste in music, if you could remember correctly. As soon as you got home from your first shift together you’d made sure to stalk all of his socials, he was kind of artsy - not quite goth but not quite full blown skater boy. He was rarely seen on his own Instagram, instead filling with pictures of his friends or gigs he’d been to. You bit your lip, growing only more curious about the blonde boy, head filling with speculation about his taste in romantic partners or what he’d be like behind closed doors.

You remembered the first day he’d walked in with the hairstyle he sported so casually now. He wore it so well compared to the dark brown mop he used to have. You’d never really noticed the boys or girls in your class before as being particularly attractive, but Danny walking in with that haircut and his new skater-ish look was like a breath of fresh air.

This bubbling attraction was never indicated or acted upon until both of you were on kitchen duty during a quiet Sunday night shift. Danny had found that you liked to playfully bicker, it was like vocal tennis to you. Each of you began to find things to make the other flustered, never hitting too below the belt.

Both of you had been tiptoeing on a dangerous line, comments almost falling into uncharted territory. Running out of options to make him squirm, you turned around and admitted, “I actually remember when you came into class with that mullet for the first time. I thought it was super hot.” He froze, not sure how to respond. Were you actually flirting with him? Was this just part of the joke? Instinctively running his hands through his hair, he thought of a quick response.

“Thanks, I guess. Yeah, I liked when you had streaks in your hair.” You had briefly followed the TikTok trend coming back to high school after lockdown, two platinum blonde streaks framing your face. You raised your eyebrows. “Daniel! You’re like, totally obsessed with me!” You giggled, tucking hair behind your ear. Danny, blushing, shrugged and diverted his eyes to the task at hand.

“I could literally say the same for you. Still think my hair is super hot?” He smirked, looking up at her across the small divide of the work station. “Yeah, I do.” She smiled back.

From here, a light flirtation began to intertwine with the duo’s constant bickering, quickly leading to them becoming close. Their co-workers had begun to notice that they’d swap shifts in order to be together, not that either of them would admit that. As long as they were getting the work done, nobody cared. They were a dynamic duo in the workplace, known to close the building in record time and maintain high sales during quiet days. Slowly, you had both began to be left in charge of the store on a Sunday closing shift.

Naturally, he’d offer to give you a ride home. You didn’t live too far from him and if his mom had found out he’d left you alone to get a bus or walk home she would’ve killed him. It was a win-win, and he was always grateful for the time he spent with you alone. Along the way, there would occasionally be a late night detour to McDonalds or whatever fast food place that would be open at the time, both of you sick of pizzas after long shifts spent in the kitchen.

In the parking lot within the safe confines of the family car, you’d gossip about classmates and co-workers and sing loud to your heart's content to whatever CDs he had lying around. Sometimes he’d play his new mixes for you, eager to hear your thoughts. One night after playing you his newest mix, nervously playing with the clutch, you placed your hand on top of his.

“I really appreciate you playing me these by the way. Like genuinely, I really like them.” You smiled, and he smiled back. It was no secret that he was very shy about playing others his music, the only time it felt natural was when he did do a DJ gig somewhere (thanks to the fake ID his aunt Beth got him). He was desperate to play it cool, but his hands clammy at your touch indicated otherwise.

“Thanks man.” He started the ignition, leading you to jump slightly and remove your hand. He could still feel the ghost of it when he began to drive away, willing you to place it back again. But the soft feeling of your palm never returned.

“Really… Thanks for everything, Dan. It means a lot to me.” You continued, your eyes on the road now like his should have been, only distracted so he could take short discreet glances at you. “I’m glad we met.”

“What was that?” He teased, pretending not to hear her. She lightly nudged him, “Har-har, very funny.”

“Yeah whatever. Really glad you’ve become my passenger princess,” You turn around to look at him through eyelashes, head pressed against the headrest. You couldn’t help but note how good he looked with the dimmed lighting of the street lights at night.

“The only reason I keep you around is ‘cause you keep leaving your shit in the car all the time, so I have to hang around you ‘cause my mom gets pissy that all this random junk is here.” Danny begins to joke around, picking up a lip gloss you’d left a few shifts ago. “Shit! I was looking for that!” You grabbed it off him, pulling the mirror down to apply it. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, jokingly.

By the time you got to your door, you almost didn't want to leave the car. A lingering thick silence grew and every small creak or sound the car would make emphasised it even further. Despite all these late night car rides or the occasional video call, you barely spoke during the day. It wasn’t like you were purposefully avoiding each other, you were doing different majors and had classes spread across the campus. Nonetheless, you found yourself missing his company.

“I really really meant what I said, Danny.” You promised, “Not teasing you, I promise.”

A faint smile on his lips, he replied “I know.” Silence again for a moment.

“I like teasing you.” He’d said it so quietly you didn’t even know if you’d heard him correctly. His eyes shifted to your figure, your own eyes now glued to the view of the dark empty street from the windshield. You could feel your chest growing heavier, and the burn rising to your cheeks. He continued, “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Without thinking, you turned to look at him again. “Yeah, you too Daniel.” You parted from him with a light smack to his arm.

Getting out the car, you sped to your front door. You were dying to turn around to catch his reaction, he always did such a good job of appearing so stoic and then crumbling at the very last moment at any sort of praise sent his way. As much as you tried to resist it, you couldn’t help but glance back at the boy. He was watching you from the car window, rosy cheeked and eyes hopeful.

But you couldn’t just leave him with that. As much as you desperately wanted to appear cool and mysterious, there was a part of you that clung to any interaction with him you could get. It’s what made you both so reluctant to hang up on each other during the occasional late night video call, only thwarted by Ellie politely reminding Danny he was keeping the other members of the household awake with his laughter.

Running back to the car trying not to trip over your own two feet, you hoped he couldn’t sense your own nervousness. You bang on the window, with Danny already in the process of rolling it down.

Air cold and still, lights dim.

“Thanks for the ride.” Leaning in, you pressed your glossy lips earnestly to his warm cheek. For a moment as you pulled away slowly, you could feel how close your faces were to each other. His breath on your face, you waited for anything to happen. “Y-yeah, no worries man.” Rushing back to your home, you couldn’t tell if you’d accomplished your goal or not. On one hand, he was flustered - it was obvious. But on the other, you’d almost wished he’d done something, anything, to keep you talking to him.

A few days went by with you beginning to narrowly miss each other at work, he would finish as you started or likewise. You hoped it wasn’t purposeful, although you’d admit that you hadn’t bothered to change any of your shifts since that night.

Legs hanging off the bed, you had been relaxing after a long day of kind-of studying. The fact you’d bothered to get the textbook out at all had seemed like a cause for celebration for you. Toying with the thought of teasing Dan via text, you were surprised to find the boy had already texted you.

DANNY

outside.

(sent at 23:04)

now

(sent at 23:05)

Alert, you stumbled your way to your bedroom window, legs still half dead from just lying around. And there it was, the trusty family Buick parked right outside. You could see his arm hanging from the window, fingers strumming something onto the car door. Those fingers had been thought about many times when Danny was on your mind. Long and kind of skinny, you imagined how they looked on the record decks he spent so much of his free time over.

Spinning the record, a single digit softly pressing down on the smooth ridge. How did he control them? Was he soft when he did it? Did he tug the record ever so slightly? Was he a little messy with his strokes? How much pressure did he apply? Did the rhythm depend on the listener?

This was going too far. And plus, you were keeping him waiting.

“Hurry the fuck up, I’m starving bro.” He whined as soon as your figure appeared in your front doorway.

“I ate already Dan,” Still searching for an explanation.

“Okay? Damn, you can watch me eat then! Just hurry up!” He nudged the horn, causing you to both jump. “I didn’t think that would be enough pressure to be honest, that kinda scared me too.” He admitted.

He was a little rough, you thought. Good to know.

“Why the fuck are you here, dumbass? I’ve got class in the morning.” You folded your arms, still not making any effort to get in the vehicle.

“I miss you, obviously.” He shrugged, as if it really was the most obvious thing in the world. It was like you could hear your heart ping inside you when he said that. You were starting to hate the recent way he’d been making you feel. He was certainly winning the teasing game.

You rolled your eyes, you were going to fight for this. “Danny, if you want to fuck me that badly you just need to ask.”

“Fuck off, I’m starving. I thought you loved me.” He pouted. Damn, he was good. Maybe this was all it was to him really, just a game. Maybe this is how he’s trying to set boundaries to imply you should just be platonic. Secretly, you hoped he wasn’t.

You huffed, “Fine.” And now both of you were driving to god knows what fast food place.

“Is your mom not pissed at you just taking the car all the time?” He shrugged off the question. “As long as I’m paying for the gas, she doesn’t care.” You hadn’t actually met her, despite hearing stories about her.

“Does she get annoyed at you coming home so late?” You were lightly prodding, not necessarily to simply tease but just to get a better picture of what it was like for him. He seemed once again unbothered when he responded, “I’m really good at staying quiet.”

“Aren’t you meant to be a DJ?”

“Yeah, but I guess I’ve had practice in other ways.”

What. The. Fuck.

Respectfully, you didn’t know what to do with that information.

“Gross, I don’t need to hear about all that.” You lightly hit his shoulder, almost frowning selfishly when he didn’t even take his eyes off the road.

“Hear about what?” He feigns ignorance, but you swear you can see a flicker of a smirk on his mouth. “Your sex life, Daniel!”

“Woah woah woah - I never said anything about sex! That’s just all your perverted thoughts, assuming the worst in me.” There it is, there’s that smirk he was so desperate to hide. You try to fight it with an eye roll.

“Dick.”

“God, penis on the goddamned brain! You’re so fuckin’ filthy, babe.” He was obviously joking and yet there was something there that had you squirming in the car seat. “Shut up. You win tonight.” His face warms up at your comment, you can’t find it in your heart to truly hate him for it. Your comment only happened to foreshadow what was to come.

By the time Danny gets and finishes his food, you’re both sitting in silence in some darkened car park. This is no different from the usual after work trips, but something really seems different in the air.

The silence was peaceful, almost kind of soothing. For a second, it felt like you two might be the only two people left at the end of the world. Of course, this wasn’t the apocalypse and the biggest hurdle in your life at the moment was the internal battle with your feelings for the boy seated beside you.

His hands were still gripping the steering wheel but the car was in a static standstill. You hoped he was just as nervous as you were.

“I’ve been thinking about what you were saying, by the way.” He finally spoke, causing your head to turn to him.

“I say a lot of things, Dan. Gonna have to be more specific.” A smug smile greeting him when he turned around to meet your waiting eyes. He sent a blank look your way, taken out of context it would’ve seemed like he was actually fed up with you.

“Like, the whole spending time with you thing. I’m glad we met too.” You couldn’t help but bite your lip, looking at him through long lashes, an almost siren’s gaze. “Danny, it seems like you’ve gone all soft on me.”

He almost cringed at your words. If there had been one thing that Danny had been when he’d been thinking about you recently it definitely wasn’t soft. He prayed that you weren’t secretly a mind reader, but you could tell you had prodded enough from the way the atmosphere shifted.

“I like going on these drives with you, it helps me clear my mind I guess.” Danny continued to play with the leather of the steering wheel. As bad as it sounds, he’d found a spot he could lightly rip up with his nails and it became his new fixation when he was fidgeting. “And I was maybe wondering if you’d like to go on more of them. With me… not just like after work or anything.” He stuttered, kind of scared to meet your gaze again. One thing he hated was how much you made him squirm. You had a specific talent for making him nervous, but at the same time the feeling was so addictive that he didn’t want you to stop.

“Is this like you asking me on a date?” Brows raised, your fingers fell to the hem of your shirt subconsciously doing the same fidgeting that Danny was performing in front of you.

“No! Not like, I don’t mean anything like pervy or that despite what I was, like, joking about-” He moved in defence, his hands raised as if to block her joke from reaching him.

“I’m fucking with you. You know I love our drives, they’re our drives.” You said it with such conviction that despite not really saying anything he completely understood what you meant. These little trips no matter how far they went felt special to them.

He softly chuckled, feeling like whatever barrier he’d been putting up was falling. “You’re obsessed with me.”

“Shut the fuck up, Danny.”

“It’s okay! I’m a little obsessed with you too! We can be mutually obsessed with each other - that’s how friendships work!” For a moment, you realised that maybe the way he spoke to you - the way you spoke to each other - was what kept you coming back to him. He was attractive, sure, but something was so free about the way you could speak around each other.

But also, god, he was so attractive.

He leaned back against the headrest, you took the time to appreciate his soft jaw. Those damn pink lips. As much as you’d been trying to not admit it you were desperate to feel them on your neck. There was nothing more you wanted right now than to lean over and kiss him with such ferocity that you’d both forget your own names.

You most definitely shouldn’t be feeling these ways. Aside from him being a friend, he was a co-worker. Relationships like that always ended so messily.

“I think I pity you actually, why do you have to stay so quiet, Dan? Couldn’t have been good if they didn’t even make you moan.”

“I didn’t say they couldn’t make me, I just said I was good at being quiet.” You both paused for a moment, where did you go from here? You could open Pandora's box, and let out whatever tension you’ve been feeling or you could stay within the safety of his friendship.

“Was hard for them to stay quiet though.” Your chest tightened, you felt like all of the air had disappeared in the car.

Holy shit.

“I’m sure they managed just fine.” Managing to choke out a swift comeback, trying to appear as sardonic as you possibly could. “Yeah, my hand sure helped.”

Another blow to the system. He was good at this.

He shifted, like he was preparing for his next hit. “You talk too much to be quiet, I think.” Another stab to your chest, screw him. You were going for the kill.

“Maybe I just need a helping hand.” Your eyes shifted to his own hands, still on the wheel. He’d noticed. He was coming for blood.

“That can be arranged, sweetheart.” If this was Mortal Kombat, his streak would be unreal. “I don’t think you’d be able to handle me.” You countered, you were ashamed to admit you were losing the fight. “I think I’m a little too wild for you, Dan.”

“Prove it.”

The killing blow.

If this was a film, this would be the part where you pounce on each other and fight for dominance with your tongues. But this is not a movie, and as passionate as that sounds, the thought of your tongue as some sort of roman gladiator kind of made you feel icky.

All you could do was respond with exhaling a breath you never realised you were holding, kind of amused. You tilted your head as if to say, ‘touché’.

And that was that.

He got you home safely as he would any other night, watching you as you entered the house. Through the peephole, you could see him linger for a moment staring at your door. He rested his head once again on the headrest, this time looking exasperated. Running a hand through his platinum hair, he started the engine and left.

Bed sheets twisted in hand, you weren’t proud to admit just how much of an effect his words had on you. But lying there, your fingers softly playing with your clit, you didn’t really feel guilty either. You thought once again of his own fingers on you, a little rough with you. The rhythm of them as they throbbed within you, he’d know exactly what tempo would ruin you.

Initially you were concerned about looking him in the eyes the next time you saw him, but when you got another good look at him that feeling quickly went away. He was intoxicating to be around. How were you this down bad for him?

The rides continued as normal, if not more frequently now. Always tiptoeing on the line between playful banter and the most delicious flirtation you’d ever partaken in was like whiplash. But you couldn’t stop.

Speculation about the other's sex life could be tried and tested, each playful answer given offering a thrilling image that would be used to fuel lonely fantasies behind bedroom doors.

After you had to travel to Oregon for a family emergency, contact with Danny again grew to a halt. It wasn’t like you were desperate to speak to him all the time but in the moments you weren’t busy, he was usually at work, in classes or looking after his sisters.

DANNY

miss u u massive fucking loser

(sent at 22:37)

YOU

die

(seen at 22:39)

miss you too

(seen at 22:39)

how is life without me?

(seen at 22:39)

DANNY

sucks

(sent at 22:39)

going to strangle bridget if she comes into my room one more time perhaps

(sent at 22:40)

as soon as ur back in the state ur getting ur cute little ass into my goddamn car and i am going drive u all around the city

(sent at 22:40)

YOU

that’s kidnapping?

(seen at 22:40)

DANNY

cry about it

(sent at 22:40)

what did u do today my beloved?

(sent at 22:41)

YOU

shopped for lingerie

(seen at 22:41)

It hadn’t been a lie, you had visited the local mall and picked up some stuff - some of it had just happened to be nice underwear.

DANNY

HOT

(sent at 22:42)

send pics

(sent at 22:43)

There was a great potential here that you had to consider. Danny could literally just be joking, this wasn’t too far out of the things you usually teased each other with. But, at the same time you wondered if this would be a good way of getting back at him for making you squirm. Would you be crossing a line if you sent one or two unsuggestive pictures to him?

When the pictures were delivered, two of you in different sets of lingerie, he almost dropped his phone. You’d be the fucking death of him.

After a few minutes of no response but the screen indicating they had been seen, you began to panic. Fuck, what if this had all back fired? Were these unsolicited despite what he had said? Were you too dumb to read between the lines?

YOU

heyyyy you good lol

(sent at 22:52)

sorry if that was too much

(sent at 22:53)

Still a few more moments of no response. Until, both turned to (seen at 22:56).

DANNY

no sorry! i was helping my mom with make dinner

(sent at 22:56)

YOU

dinner at 11pm?

(seen at 22:57)

DANNY

we’re a hungry bunch

(sent at 23:00)

Biting your lip, all you could do right now so far away from seeing his actual reaction was take his word for it. Your phone pinged with a new notification.

DANNY sent a photo.

It was similar to what you’d sent, with him being shirtless and in his boxers. He’d taken it from a mirror, kneeling on the floor - tattoos on display. The things you would do right now to be in that room on your knees were unspeakable.

YOU

cold in there?

(seen at 23:02)

DANNY

freezing

(sent at 23:02)

need someone in new lingerie to come warm me up i guess

(sent at 23:03)

Initially, you typed out ‘good luck with that’ but paused before you hit send. You couldn’t just let this escape you anymore.

YOU

i’ll be home soon

(seen at 23:06)

After that, you could hardly wait to see him. None of your other chats after that quite reached that level of promiscuity. You were craving even more of him after seeing him like that. No longer did you need to imagine what he looked like under the uniform.

It wasn’t long until you were back in Los Angeles and already getting ready for him to come pick you up. You’d thrown on a cute white milkmaid summer dress, trying to look effortless despite you having the outfit planned for your return since that night you exchanged pictures. The new lingerie was incorporated as well, of course. Even if nothing came of all this, you were going to go out there knowing you looked damn good. A red cardigan was added on top, giving enough coverage for the hot LA nights.

You practically jumped into the car when he pulled up outside your house, shouting to nobody in particular that you would be out late tonight.

Cheshire cat-like grin on his face, just being beside him again made you remember just how much you missed him. “Hey,” He began, starting the ignition.

“Miss me?” You winked, hand softly playing with the back of his mullet for a moment as if you were greeting a pet. “You don’t know the half of it, babe.”

“Where are we heading for food?” You enquired, nothing had really been planned beyond just seeing each other. “Well actually, I was gonna ask if you wanted to come to mine for dinner tonight. My mom is working super late so, um, she invited you. Means we can still go on a drive til she gets home.”

Beaming, you immediately started nodding. “Oh my god, Danny! You’ve been talking to your mama about me.”

“Not like we spend most of our time with each other.”

“You’re obsessed! How long have I been saying this?” Smug assertion rolling off your tongue so easily, you realised you hadn’t actually answered the question. “Yeah, I’d love to come.” He smiled.

“Where are you thinking of going in the meantime?” You began to play with the hem of your dress, lifting it ever so slightly to expose more of your thigh. His eyes flickered to the new skin on show, thinking of you in those photos again. “Um, takeaway milkshakes in the park sound good?”

“Sounds great, actually.” And so off you went.

He picked strawberry, you picked vanilla. You were sitting in covered darkness, the overhead light of the car on to allow you to see one another. Sneaking glimpses of each other as you finished the drinks, giggling when you caught the other.

“What’s in Oregon?” He asks, all you’d been talking about up to that point was the workplace gossip you’d missed during your time away. You shrugged, “Parents are from there. I grew up there actually, I go back and forth occasionally.” You stopped to take a slurp of the sweet beverage.

“My great aunt is ill but its whatever. We’re not close or anything with that side of the family, it’s still sad I guess, but I don’t know. Just not like, to be a downer or anything, y’know?” The boy nodded beside her, “Yeah my mom’s family is kinda distant.”

You knew about his asshole dad disappearing. He spoke about him so little that you didn’t want to pry when he was obviously going through shit that didn’t really concern you. “Her mom, my grandma, she was kind of nuts.”

“Bummer. Fuckin’ stupid family shit, am I right?” You tried to lighten the mood. “Yeah, such a pain in the fucking ass.” He smiled. The mood had obviously taken a nosedive, so you attempted to liven it up a bit.

“I actually lost my virginity in Oregon a few years back.” Hand filing through your hair to push it back from your face, you shook your head. “Was like this stupid guy that knew my cousins. It was terrible.”

“I think I’ve got you beat, mine was in the bathroom at some random gig I went to with a girl from school. We never spoke after it.” Your face dropped, evidently feeling sorry for him. “Don’t feel sorry for me, man, neither of us were feeling it.”

“Wow, I don’t even know where the weirdest place I’ve had sex is, honestly.” Thinking through the few escapades you had partaken in, you realised most had been in homes when parents were out.

“That gig one was probably mine. Actually, I got a blowjob under the bleachers in senior year once, that shit was crazy.” Jealousy struck through your heart, who gave him it? He answered the question for you, “It was Brenda Glemmer.”

That bitch.

“Wow, someone’s jealous.” You hadn’t realised that you’d involuntarily said that last part out loud. “She was a dick to me, my hatred is not blowjob related.” Failing to convince him, he rested a hand on your shoulder in comfort. “Sure thing, babe.”

Rolling your eyes, you suddenly remembered your craziest experience of all. “Actually, I think I have you beat! I once got ate out in a graveyard!”

“Jesus christ, I’m not at all surprised you give such goth gf vibes.” He smirked, finishing his milkshake. “God, what I would’ve given to be that guy.”

Cheeks heated, “Fuck you!” You exclaimed.

“Not if I fuck you first!” That earned a smack and more giggling. He continued, “I knew you were into kinky shit like that.” But when the giggling died down, the deep wanting returned.

“Ever had sex in this car before?” You found yourself staring out into the blackness of the park, your heart beating the fastest you thought it may have ever beaten.

“No, can’t say I have.” His hands are clutching the wheel again. “Thought about it, though.”

“Oh really?” You were on full autopilot mode now, the words exiting your mouth only coming out as an act of self preservation in case you pass out from nervousness.

“You know I’ve thought about it.”

You turn to look at him, and there he was, already waiting for you. “You really should do something about it then.”

“Maybe I’m worried the girl I like doesn’t want it like I want it.”

“I think she needs it more than she needs to fucking breathe, Danny.”

And that was that.

Lips desperately pressed to one another, needy to taste what you had been anticipating for months now. His face was just as warm as yours, the heat only adding to the feverish feeling.

You tasted like vanilla and sweetness, like sunset and cinnamon. Your hands knotting with his hair, he begged you to tug on it with a groan, you had to comply. It had been a while since you had last kissed anyone, but none had ever even come close to this. Laced with absolute desire and greed from both sides, taking whatever you could both get after wanting it so badly for so long.

His hands began to gently pull the cardigan from your shoulders, throwing it to the backseat before dipping his fingers under the straps of your dress. It was here, unfortunately, you had to stop him.

“Nuh-uh, not here. Too creepy.” You bit your lip, worried that you were out of options.

“I think I know a place.”

Hastily reversing, he sped off in the direction of his own apartment building. The underground carpark often lay abandoned after around 10pm, leaving it an ideal place for a potential late night escapade. His mom would get a ride to the front of the building, meaning if she did come home there would hopefully be zero crossover, especially with him having the remote with him in the glove compartment.

Right hand dropping to rest on your thigh, you couldn’t help but notice how good he looked with one hand on the wheel, brows furrowed in concentration.

For a moment, it was like neither of you really knew what you were going to do when you got there. You were kind of spoiled for choice, not really ever having a place to yourselves with you both still living with parents. This car granted multiple opportunities - or as Danny was thinking, interesting positions. He needed to try them all.

You could feel your arousal pooling beneath you, while Danny continued through the traffic, you crossed your legs over and began to grind your thighs together for temporary relief. Eyes flicking from the road to your sexually frustrated figure. Slowly, opening your legs ever so slightly, he holds the hem of your dress and lifts it back, exposing the underwear. He recognised it immediately, licking his lips.

“You’re fuckin’ bad.” You smirked at his words, “Like it?”. You feign innocence, twirling a strand of hair with your finger.

Danny groans, moving the hand from your thigh to brush his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, really, really like it.” His fingers go back to trace along your entrance, underwear soaked already. You couldn’t even feel embarrassed, not when the fingers you had been imagining on you for so long were touching you like this.

Your hand hovers over his own, and you press his digits into your cunt. You emit a dark sigh, a noise that makes Danny want to pull over and fuck you on the sidewalk out in the open. Guiding his hand against you, working you up into the unspeakable rhythm, you begin to knead your breast with your other hand. Feeling delirious with goosebumps growing on your skin, you lean forward to press kisses against his neck. Tongue flicking under his silver chain that you’ve been dying to taste for so long. “Stop distracting me,” He groans, without doing anything to stop you.

He was pushing a little harder on the peddle, doing everything in his power to not get lost in the view of your cleavage, knuckles white wrapped around the wheel.

After what felt like a lifetime, the car pulled into the darkened garage. He fumbled with the remote, almost dropping it in a rapid attempt to press the button. The buzz of the gate finally indicated, the shutter lifting. With that, you guessed your fate was sealed.

Danny made sure to park in the far back, if anyone did come down here they would hopefully have a hard time noticing the pair.

As soon as the keys were turned, Danny was pulling you into his lap. You started to rock your hips on him, not applying too much pressure in a further attempt to torment him.

“Too scared to take me upstairs to meet mommy right now?” You teased, running your hands through his hair. He made no effort to hide how much pleasure the sensation was giving him. “Just absolutely desperate to fuck you right now, if I’m being honest.” He was almost breathless, struggling to get the words out with you grinding on him the way you were.

You smirked, his right hand travelling from your hips, to your breast, to your neck. “So, so pretty.”

You stopped him, desperate to ask him a question that had been playing on your mind since it happened. “Were you really helping your mom with dinner when I sent those pictures?”

“Fuck no, they were saved to my camera roll the second they came through.” You scoffed. “I fucking knew it!”

“Yeah, yeah. As if it was hard.” He holds your hips down onto his own and for the first time you feel the thickness under you. Both of you breathing wildly, grinding into each other, knowing there's still far more to even come. It was exhilarating.

“I think I know something else that might be really hard right now.” Here you were, working yourself up on his lap. You were sure your wetness had soaked through his shorts. “Wonder whose fault that is?”

Your lips were back on his, and immediately it was like another hit of the most powerful drug. The way he moved with you, his grip on you was egging you on even more. You wanted to be so bad for him.

His fingers once again fell to your underwear, pushing them aside to feel just how wet you really were. “Fuck.” He murmured, beginning to rub his thumb over your clit. “Danny,” You moaned in retaliation.

Without warning, he sunk his middle and index fingers into you. Slowly pulsating inside you, you gasp for air. Falling back and-

BEEEEEEEP

The sound of you pressing against the wheel causes you both to jump, but also causes Danny’s fingers to go further inside you - leading to another moan.

You both giggle, not stopping with the new depth and pace as we works up into you. “I seriously need to stop doing that.” You fall against him, forehead placed against the other. “Wanted to feel you for so long.” He mumbles.

“Mhmm?” You were in too much bliss to properly respond as he nodded, “Feels good?” You nodded in return. He starts to suck on your neck, biting the areas you react the most to. You thought this feeling of closeness was unobtainable, yet here you were with him.

Pressing a light kiss, you whine when he removes his fingers from beneath you. He lifts his index to his mouth, licking it. “You taste fucking amazing,” Danny smiles at your wide eyes. “You want a taste?” Again, you nod. He places the two fingers in your own mouth. “Suck, baby.” He commands you and you follow without hesitation. His jaw goes slack at the sight of your sucking his fingers, tongue making little circles around his fingertips to show what you’re capable of.

Letting them go, you mumble, “I think I wanna go in the back seat, Dan.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, wanna taste your cock.” Well, that’ll do it. You’re practically launched backwards through the small gap to get to the back of the car. Danny instead swings the driver side door open, ejecting the chair forward and climbs in on top of you. Pinning you down, you reach for his dick as his hands grip your waist. Kissing you with a ferocity somehow not even present in the kisses from before, he presses you against him.

Pulling away to gasp for air, with your help Danny yanks his sweater and baggy t-shirt off in one fell swoop. His shorts get thrown on the floor, leaving him in his boxers. He reaches for the zip of your dress, pulling the straps down and ripping it off your body right from under you. “I’ve been thinking about you in this everyday since you sent me that picture.” He plays with the straps of bra, noses touching and breath light on your face. His soft eyes on your figure, taking a moment to take it all in.

“Well, maybe three times a day.” You softly smack his chest as you fall into him, giggling as he plays with the hooks at the back. You shake the bra off and reach for your underwear, leaving you totally exposed. Danny, giving a second to take in the view of your naked body, pulls down the waistband of his underwear. From the immediate sight of his cock, precum dripping from the tip, you’re compelled to lick it.

On your knees beside him in the back seat, you lick a stripe up the length of him before taking him in your mouth. You stay like this, head bobbing as he grabs a chunk of your hair and gently guides you with the other hand on your head. With a little difficulty, you look up at him, his head thrown back on the headrest and his mouth stuck in the shape of an ‘O’.

“Stop, stop. Fuck, c’mere.” He picks your torso up by your arms and guides your lips back to his, before pulling your legs over so you’re now straddling him.

Rubbing his length against your clit, he begins to suck on more bare spaces around your neck and chest. You hold his head as you rock into him.

“Danny, I can’t- I need to feel you now.” He nods hastily, and positions himself under you.

You lower yourself onto him, letting out a guttural moan at the feeling of him filling you. You wrap yourself around him as he grits his teeth, holding your hips as you start to ride him.

Face buried in his neck, you whimper as you set a steady pace, fingers twisted tightly in that blonde mullet you loved so much. Your knees dig into the seat, you can feel yourself coming undone.

He rips your head from the crevice, getting a good look at you as he starts to take the lead and rolls up into you.

“Such a pretty baby,” His hand wraps around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks. The hand drops to your neck, as his other wraps around your thigh, giving more guidance. “Keep talking,” You struggle out, fucking yourself into him at this point. By this point the windows are fogged and you’re sure the car is rocking by now.

Your fingers wrap around his hand on your neck, begging him to hold it a little tighter, a little rougher. He tuts, before connecting his hand to your backside with a loud smack.

“You’re fuckin filthy, you know that?”

“Yes, yes, Danny, fuck!”

“Fuck, you’re better than anything I ever imagined.” With two taps to your waist, you both stop. You’re evidently growing weaker, all fucked out on his dick. He flips you around so your back is lying on the seat. You’re all sprawled out in front of him, hair kind of crazy, but he swears to god he’s never been more attracted to any human being ever.

He presses himself down on top of you, balancing his weight so you’re not crushed but something feels so intimate about the way he’s on you.

Smiling again, he plants out of time kisses onto your lips whenever he can. Forearm above your head to keep him balanced, palm lovingly on your crown to support you. His eyes watching your face closely, this was it. Fuck, this was really it.

The feeling that could only be explained as a tidal wave of wet hot rising, Danny’s pace guiding it to where it needed to go.

“I’m gonna, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He whimpers, picking up his pace while still visibly shaking. You pull his forehead down to yours as he continues to work his hips into you. Your thighs are holstered far above his hips, offering a perfect angle for you both. The feeling of him filling you up was enough to send you over the edge.

“Dan, shit, me too.”

“C’mon baby, needed this for so long. It’s always been you.” With those finishing words, you couldn’t hold back any longer. Body shaking with the orgasm rippling through you, Danny beginning to come down from his own.

For a while, you both sat in the corners of the back seat, as if you were boxers in a ring. Your eyes stayed trained on each other’s bodies as you caught your breaths.

You crawl over to him, finally resting in the space between his legs as his arms wrap around your body.

“Do you think it would be awkward if I could stay the night?” You finally announced. You turned to face him. “It wouldn’t be, like, weird if we slept in the same bed, right?”

“My dick was literally just inside you.” His palm resting on your jaw, lovingly stroking his thumb over your cheek. “And? Maybe you hated it!” He shook his head, “That was the best thing I’ve probably ever experienced in my life.” He left a kiss on your jaw, where the ghost of his fingers still lingered.

His mom probably would be fine with her staying as well, seeing as she wasn’t really judgy with the whole boy and girl sleepover thing.

“Just a fair warning, my sisters are a fuckin’ pain in the ass.” He shook you off him, beginning to locate both of your scattered clothing and collect yourselves. “That’s cool. I’m excited to meet them.”

For a second, he watched you get ready, still eyeing your body. Your neck and chest were covered in purple markings left by him. He smiled wistfully, appreciating his work along with your figure. You clocked him watching and rolled your eyes, “Perv.”

“You’re cute.” He skimmed his hands over each one, as if it was the world’s most abstract dot-to-dot puzzle. You realised just how many hickies covered you. “Fuckin’ asshole.” Before he could grab it, you snatched his sweatshirt from beside him, offering you more coverage than your cardigan would allow. “How the hell am I gonna cover these up when I see your mom?” Danny shrugged once again, still finding the whole situation amusing and honestly, kinda hot.

“Just say it’s a birthmark,” He began to press soft kisses on each hickey. “Or maybe I’ll just have to keep one hand around your neck at all times.” You lightly smacked him, but it didn’t deter him from the task at hand. Your gaze softened, lifting his chin up so you were both eye to eye.

“So obsessed, huh?” He nodded at your words, stealing another kiss from your lips. You’d let him take as much as he wanted of you. “You know it.” And another, and another, until he was kissing every inch of your face as you tried to bat him away.

Leaning into his ear you whisper, “Maybe later, you can show me just how quiet you can be?” He almost growls at your statement, you press a finger to his lips. The promise of more to come was exhilarating to the both of you. He parts with a soft bite to your neck, softer than the ones offered earlier.

He held your hand all the way to the apartment, and in the elevator you nestled into his neck. The feeling of him, his scent, so strong all around you was enough to make you totally intoxicated with the mere thought of him. Looking up, you catch him looking down at you, soft smile playing on his lips.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

#danny evil dead x reader #danny evil dead rise #evil dead #evil dead rise #morgan davies #morgan davies imagine #evil dead smut #danny evil dead rise x reader #danny evil dead #danny x reader #evil dead x reader

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mariacallous · 9 hours

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More US workers will soon be free to leave their employers to work for rivals, thanks to a new federal rule that will block the long-standing practice of locking in workers with noncompete agreements.

The US Federal Trade Commission on Tuesday issued a final rule that bans most noncompetes nationwide. The agency estimated that by allowing people more freedom, the change would lead to the creation of 8,500 new businesses annually, an average annual pay increase of $524 for workers, lower health care costs, and as many as 29,000 more patents each year for the next decade.

The FTC says about one in five US workers are bound by contract clauses that prevent them from taking new jobs from a competitor, or starting their own competing businesses, for some period of time. The agreements can trap workers and slow career advancement and wage increases—two things workers often achieve by hopping jobs.

The agreements also disproportionately affect workers in tech and certain other roles: 36 percent of engineers and architects work under noncompetes, as do 35 percent of workers in computer and math fields, according to research from the Universities of Maryland and Michigan.

Under the FTC’s new rule, “tech workers will probably experience a rise in the outside opportunities that they face,” says Evan Starr, an associate professor of business at the University of Maryland who worked on the research. “They’ll have more freedom to work where they want; they will be more likely to be paid higher wages.”

Opponents of noncompetes say they hurt workers by keeping them in lower-waged jobs and also stifle innovation, preventing people from starting their own businesses or putting innovative ideas into practice. Noncompete supporters argue that the arrangements encourage investment in staff and protect trade secrets. But recent research from Starr indicates that banning noncompetes hasn’t led to an increase in trade secret litigation.

The new FTC rule has a carve-out to keep existing noncompetes for senior executives in place. But it blocks companies from creating new noncompetes for these high-level workers. The rule is due to take effect in about four months, but it’s expected to face challenges. Two commissioners who voted against the rule saw it as overstepping the FTC’s power. The US Chamber of Commerce quickly announced after the rule passed that it will sue to try to block it.

Several states, including tech hub California, have already banned enforcement of noncompetes. But a recent tidal shift has seen the issue resonate in dozens of states. In the 2023 legislative session, 38 states introduced 81 bills that sought to ban or restrict enforcement of noncompetes. California’s long-established law is seen as part of the reason Silicon Valley became a hub for innovation, while Massachusetts’s once-similar tech corridor didn’t soar in the same way.

Tech executive Daniel Powers has battled noncompetes twice in his career. In 2010, IBM tried to delay his move from New York to Seattle to work for Amazon Web Services, the online retailer’s cloud division, by a year. The parties settled on Powers taking six months off. Fortunately for Powers, Amazon agreed to pay him even while he couldn’t work.

Two years later, the tables turned. When Powers attempted to take a job with Google Cloud, Amazon sued him, saying he had agreed not to work for one of its competitors within 18 months of leaving. The incident drew headlines as the first noncompete case Amazon had brought against someone inside fast-growing AWS, Powers recalls.

Powers had to move to California—where noncompetes aren’t legal—for the new gig, and his attorney told him to get there as soon as possible. By living in a different state, the lawsuit could be tried in federal court, where his attorney felt Amazon had less of an advantage compared to Washington state court. A federal judge ended up siding with Powers, and he lost only about three months of work at Google while the case played out.

Amazon, IBM, and Google did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

Had Powers not received discounted legal help over the years, he says, he could have easily spent over $100,000 battling noncompetes. “It’s just not fair to the employees,” says Powers, who now runs cloud advisory firm What's Next Consulting. “When I won, I got hundreds of emails and texts from Amazon employees thanking me for beating them.”

People in Washington state who want to leave one of the tech giants often must have difficult conversations with their families, advisers, and potential new employer about the risks of litigation and potentially being without a paycheck for a long stretch. Powers estimates that he has aided over 200 former Amazon and IBM colleagues in the process. California workers have no such concerns. “It’s just, ‘OK, goodbye,’” Powers says. “There’s nothing companies can do about it.”

If the new FTC rule ends up in front of the US Supreme Court, he says, his message to the justices will be simple. “Taking away a person’s ability to work in an industry they are trained in, have skills in, and have been in is a massive disservice to the employee,” Powers says. “It’s not the right thing to do to have these agreements.”

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ghooostbaby · 20 days

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the post i just reblogged about wei wuxian reminds me of my idea of how yin yu is accepted/treated in ghost city ... yin yu as kind of the oddest of oddballs in ghost city, because he's a pretty reasonable, responsible, organized, hard worker, (what rage issues?!) but he's respectful and kind to the ghosts... and he wins them over by that, they're so fond of him, and very protective of him. the ghost city residents get pissed off when outsider ghosts come in and are like what are you so obedient to him for?? he's just a regular person wearing a mask. and they'll howl with rage!! that's our waning moon officer! our little skrunkly! how dare!!!

i love to imagine the initial yin yu onboarding process too... i have a cherished headcanon that when hua cheng first brought yin yu on board (after an urgent request from he xuan who watched his rise and fall himself undercover in heavens and developed an attachment to the quiet emotional disaster of yin yu, what can i say yin yu beloved of ghosts... i like it a lot) he was very much a fish out of water and couldn't really command any of the ghosts which is sort of his whole gig.. so hua cheng carved him a super scary mask himself to help out and then went around to the ghosts and yelled at them on yin yu's behalf so they accepted yin yu as important to hua cheng and the rest is history (maybe over exaggeratedly acting intimidated by him for a while which yin yu feels very exasperated by but it's better than treating him with contempt)

#yin yu #tgcf

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the-masked-ram · 9 days

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Falling for Frogs- Chapter One

CW: NSFW, Slow burn, chubby!reader, fem reader, original female character (paired with Haley), side ships, mental illness, anxiety attacks, smoking, bdsm, loss of virginity, online bullying (not in anyway involving seb) A/N: so I've been planning this fic for years >.> ---- Chapter One: Pan!c at the Con

Sebastian both hated changes in his routine and yet looked forward to them. He hated it when people would force it on him with no chance to say ‘no’, minimal notice, or if it forced him to take part in one of the ridiculous festivals around town. Yet, the change for today wasn’t so bad.

He and Sam stepped out of the beat-up van into a day far too sunny for Sebastian, that had him squinting and his fingers itching for a cigarette. However, he forced the desire down. He’d just finished one after all. Instead, he focused on spinning his ring around his finger and touching the piercing on the corner of his lip with the piercing in the center of his tongue. The fidgeting helped, especially as they moved further into the crowd of Zuzu city.

It was funny, the thick throng of people usually didn’t bother him, but today it was worse than usual out on the streets. Likely because of the convention. The convention he and Sam were headed straight towards. Fuck, he hoped it wasn’t this bad at the actual site.

“Dude, wanna stop at the café with the maple bars?” Sam tilted pointed toward the place.

Sebastian blinked, considering it for a moment before nodding, “Yeah. Coffee sounds good.”

Caffeine always sounded good to him. He had even gotten a good night’s sleep, having pushed himself the two days before to finish his recent gig early and his client had been extremely pleased. Even though Sebastian had only pushed so hard for selfish reasons, he wanted to be as well rested as possible for today. Though he wasn’t about to say that.

Even with a good eight hours under his belt he still felt sleep deprived, and thus coffee sounded good. Chronic insomnia does that to a person though.

Stepping in through the doors was like finding an oasis in the desert. Except the desert was the outside, where people pressed so close together their elbows dug into each other, and the already muggy city air was thick with the scent of sweat and too much perfume. Sebastian took a deep breath as soon as he realized the predominant smell here was roasted coffee beans and sweet, buttery pastries.

He just had to make it until they reached the hotel. It should be better there. His fingers flicked over his thumb ring nervously.

A register was already open and waiting, so while Sam went to find a table, Sebastian went to order. He knew Sam’s order off the top of his head after all, and despite how good of a friend Sam was, he never knew how Sebastian would take his coffee in a café. After all, it changed depending on the place.

Sebastian’s eyes skipped to the side as a flash of glaring green caught his attention. A frog backpack, something a child would probably have, hung over your shoulders. You were small, he had maybe four inches on you, maybe more. You looked soft, with thick thighs, wide hips, and bright eyes as you talked animatedly to the person behind the register.

He looked at your hands, a set of fingerless, striped knit gloves held onto a wallet in the shape of some sort of merch from Cave Saga. He thought his heart might have kicked at that. The colors you wore were muted except for the pop of your bag and the little choker around your neck. You would easily blend in if it weren’t for those things. Yet you didn’t seem worried about that, not like he was. He swallowed.

“Excuse me, are you ready?” the worker in front of him asked and Sebastian felt a burn rise to his cheeks.

“Yeah,” he nodded, shaking himself into the present and focusing on the task at hand.

He put in his order while his hand worked his ring at warp speed. When he turned to head over to Sam you were gone. Oddly, he would normally feel nothing but at that moment he felt disappointed. His eyes scanned the café, checking just in case you had lingered. But when he saw no green or purple he just brushed it off as one of the many missed opportunities in his life. What would he have said anyway?

Sebastian fell quiet as he waited for Sam to finish his donut. Sam didn’t point it out and likely assumed it was due to his usual ‘moodiness’ as everyone called it. Sebastian wouldn’t deny that he did the brooding e-boy thing well, so they weren’t necessarily wrong about him being moody occasionally. This time though his mind was merely caught up in a fantasy, about what he would have said to you.

---

Your eyes were so wide you swore they had completely dried up. You consciously blinked several times and then squinted up at the wide screens that spread across the many booths. This gaming convention was going to be so amazing. It would give you so many ideas for next year. For your own booth.

You grabbed your notebook as you slipped between the thinning crowd. Out on the streets the number of people had been nearly suffocating, but now it was just enough to make it feel like you might be able to disappear underneath it in the best way.

Women still weren’t the most welcome in the gaming world, especially as developers for the type you were planning to release. In fact, you were releasing it under an alias for that exact reason. Many people assumed you were masculine online, and you just thought it was best not to correct them. This game was your baby after all, you’d been working on it for ten years. Pouring your blood, sweat, and tears into it, and to be honest, the only thing you needed was some voice actors before you could release it for some trial runs in beta. You pursed your lips, maybe you would find some VAs, lesser-known ones who still hit the mark, here.

You bobbed through the crowd, feeling like you were swimming through water as you tried to slow down at one spot but got distracted by booth. Eventually you found yourself in front of a video game start up for Solarian Chronicles.

Your heart jumped excitedly, “Oh my god! I saw this on Kickstarter!”

You gushed, swiping through the tablet. Someone cleared their throat beside you and that was when you realized that someone’s hand was already hovering over the tablet you touched.

“Oh…,” you squeaked and instantly your stomach squirmed, embarrassment flooded through you. “I’m so sorry. So sorry. Oh my god.”

Anxiety roiled like a beast, hungry and gripping onto your fractured thoughts, instantly you dropped your gaze. A pair of combat boots, black jeans, and a spiked belt came into view. You refused to look further up, you refused to make eye contact. They turned though and quiet huff came from their direction.

“Not a big deal,” they said.

And Yoba the voice, deep and rich, with a bit of a growling rasp. You weren’t sure if was vocal fry or something else.

They cleared their throat again, “Is the floor really that interesting?”

You thought you were going to die, just burn up into ash from the way you were squirming on the spot and the way the shame ate you alive. You shook your head, still focusing purely on their shoes.

“You can look up, y’know?” they said it like you weren’t melting into the floor, like you weren’t hoping they’d turn around and you could just slip away.

Maybe you’d leave the con all together now, you couldn’t focus anyway. Not with those vicious little thoughts poking at everything you did wrong today.

“Umm,” you swallowed and slowly, so slowly, you looked up.

Did Yoba make humans? Did Yoba sculpt them with Their own two hands or was it just this one? Because even with the baggie hoodie hiding him, with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows to expose twisting black vines inked into his right forearm, you swore this man before you was a gift from the God.

Whatever embarrassment you had before lurched into overdrive as you realized you were staring. Eyes flicking over the way his piercings on his lip, his ear, and his eyebrow caught the light. The way the black fringe fell into his face and in an effort to see you easier he tilted his head, making him seem a little softer. And his eyes were a mix of blue and green with flecks of brown, underneath the fluorescent lights it showed every swirling color within them, even though they didn’t give even a fraction of a glimpse of his emotions.

You hated yourself. You hated that you got too pulled into your bubble. Too excited, too focused, too everything that wasn’t normal, so you pressed your notebook against your chest and whimpered. Yoba, you fucking whimpered in front of him. And you weren’t sure if it was the way his lips pulled into a smirk when you met his gaze or if it was from the sheer amount of negativity bombarding your brain.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled one last time before slipping through the crowd once more.

“Wait!”

You heard his yell, but it was too late, you were already deeper in the crowd than you’d ever wanted to be and already rushing toward the door. You could always watch some influencers’ videos later. You could always find voice actors the old-fashioned way. You weren’t missing out on much.

Tears began to sting at your lash line and all you could think about was how this always happened in Zuzu and maybe you needed to take up your best friend on their offer to visit them in the valley.

#sebastian sdv #sebastian x fem reader #sebastian x reader #stardew valley #fanfiction

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sherifftillman · 8 months

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thanks to @pollenallergie i haven't stopped thinking about older!tom grant for days now, and while any fics i could write about him need to be put on the backburner for now (there's one that's been in the pipeline for a While now), here's some headcanons of my interpretation of what lil tommy g is like as an adult:

(under the cut bc long)

(also as i'm writing this i may or may not be planning fics that happen at each stage of the timeline)

(also x2 before any of u weirdos start hopping into my ask box, this is in no way trying to overshadow cassie's version of him, i'm just throwing my own ideas into the void. i love cassie's tom, and then in a separate universe, i can have my tom, too. also he's p much every guy i've ever pulled except he's way more romantic than any of my exes, so this is more self-catharsis than anything else LMAO)

okay so tom's timeline post-canon:

after his lil summer gigs at the caravan park, he moved back up north to derby and got a job at a construction company that's owned by an old family friend, like his dad's childhood best friend. it was always a given, even when he wanted to pursue a life living down in cornwall, he just couldn't stop associating the whole place with ruth and heartbreak and all manner of things that weighed heavy on his heart. and fuck that, right? he's got his whole life ahead of him!

he spends his first few years as a legal adult the way all british lads do - by spending at least two nights a week at some kind of pub, bar or nightclub. he can pull, of course, but the convenience of still living with his parents gives him an excuse to put off going any further with anyone. cassie's anon who suggested bi tom, i'm kissing you so hard on your forehead rn bc he'd literally spend like almost a year being just shy of his Hoe Phase, making out with anyone who wants to, regardless of their gender, but only while he's at the club, he never lets himself go further.

until that one night when his parents are away and his mates know full well that he's got no excuse and they're very obviously egging him on. (this would probably be the first fic in the series)

he moves out from his parents' place into a flat with a friend he's made outside of work, and that's when his lil slut era truly begins. (maybe a series of blurbs for this?) he lives with a friend he's made outside of work (any gender, it's not relevant bc bi!tom and his flatmate are 100% Best Buds For Life but also if neither of them find anyone worth pulling on a night out, they'll go back to the flat and fool around together anyway)

in his working life, tom absolutely thrives at the construction company. mostly bc he's known the workers his whole life, so he can have plenty of banter with them, but also, more importantly, he knows just enough IT skills to be able to help the owner with digitalising all the admin stuff. this means tom rises the ranks to supervisor pretty quickly, and everyone loves little Boy Wonder himself. he hates being in the office though, he's always out on site wherever the company's got jobs going. he's hands-on, he wants to help, he doesn't want to be a Big Boss Type

okay, from now on, this is the part in tom's life where he meets you, the person who ends up as his endgame. so this is a different character to those i might write about in his hoe phase, probably time skip a few years of tom taking a break from slutting it up and just casually dating until he knows exactly what he wants to give and take from a relationship.

and then he meets you. it's summer, and your work bestie has invited you over to her place to meet her boyfriend and her non-work friends for the first time. you're a little nervous, but you remember that she has a dog, so if all else fails, you can just go full Party Dog mode and switch everyone else off

it's not that you don't like her friends from outside of work, you just have way less in common with them than you do her, and it feels awkward trying to put yourself in conversations without her there, and she's all over this new fella of hers, so you go to your failsafe to find that someone else has had the same idea as you

tom's come along as support for his best friend, who's dating your work bestie. however, since the boyfriend is being walked like a dog around the whole party being introduced to everybody, tom isn't as sociable and was promised there'd be a Party Dog there, so he's gone looking, himself.

you guys bond v quickly over being Party Dog People, spending the night narrating different groups as though you're david attenborough and taking it in turns to let the dog comment in silly voices you both make up for it

stupidly, you don't get his number, or even his last name. one thing you'd learned about him is that he doesn't really use social media, which you can tell from the instagram account you find from several hours of snooping lightly browsing, which was last updated when he'd gone on a lads' holiday to ibiza several years ago, and only features group shots in which he's tiny and his face is mostly obscured with sunglasses. which means you've got to try and convince your work bestie to invite you somewhere that her boyfriend's friends are gonna be, too

thankfully, this is nice n easy, bc tom's been planning the exact same on his end. you guys get so lost in conversation all night that you almost forget to ask for his number, until you're rolling down the window in the back of the Uber you've ordered and he's hanging halfway through it to make sure he studies the screen so that he can make sure that everything he thinks he's saying matches up with what he actually is

the Uber driver gets a little peeved about this and is like "listen mate just get in so i can drive off" and tom sheepishly complies, ending up riding all the way home with you. you'd feel rude if you didn't invite him in, though a little part of you is sad that tom's just probably gonna be another one night stand bc you really liked him. you get another drink for the two of you once you're inside, he suggests the two of you watch something for a bit for some background noise. naturally, you cuddle up, and that leads to kissing - a lot of kissing. but he doesn't try it on any further. you both end up falling asleep on the couch until you wake up to the sight, sound n smell of him making himself home in your kitchen, cooking you breakfast

you guys have this sort of, slightly more than friends, not exactly friends with benefits, relationship that he isn't out here jumping the gun trying to define, so neither are you. you're trying to stay casual with it, to keep up with him, even though your work bestie keeps pushing you for more bc she doesn't believe that that's just what you guys are, but she's not making any hints that tom's suggested taking things further, and so neither will you. (would it be an rj fic if there wasn't a comedy of errors thanks to basic miscommunication? lol)

either a significant amount of months pass, or valentine's day approaches, and tom gets you a gift. it's not any big grand gesture, but it's something that v much pertains to something you really love. a hobby, an interest, some silly little objectification of an inside joke) you feel bad, of course, and he insists that he's just a gift giver by nature, it wasn't done with the intention of getting anything back. but after many minutes of bargaining, he relents and allows you to invite him over for a homecooked meal. this is when you guys talk it all out, explain that both of you have felt a Spark but didn't want to Assume so you'd been dialling it back to protect your friendship with each other. naturally: tom ends up spending the night, but not a lot of sleeping happens, if you catch my drift

now in terms of what the dynamic is with you and older!tom:

he's still the menace he was in his younger days. you head into the office to give him the lunch he forgot to make bc he'd been running late too busy eatin something ELSE amiRIGHT and his coworkers tease you for being so in love that you'll bend over backwards for him and you know as soon as they've said that, that any second tom'll be leaning in once they're looking the other way to mutter in your ear about how you certainly were bent over backwards for him last night

speaking of, remember how he hated being in the office? not once he starts dating you. any excuse he can get to have you in there with him, whether his colleagues know or he's snuck you in, he's there

i also think that. okay i'm also co-opting @mypoisonedvine's idea of tom having a housewife kink, but hear me out. so, you know there's that saying, if you joke about a kink long enough, you'll end up into it? i think something similar-but-not-really happens to tom. where he works with a bunch of older men with "traditional" values, they're always making jokes about being in trouble with the missus, or about whether he can't stay after work bc you've got the dinner on and you're expecting him home. and tom isn't afraid to call them out on it, to tease them right back that it sucks for them that their partners aren't into them, but he's just built different. but the more he vocalises against being into the idea of you being a stay-at-home wife, the more taboo it becomes. which means the sexier that idea becomes. which means soon enough, he's dreaming about you, looking after the house while he makes sure he can look after you. it becomes obvious after a while that he's got a specific fantasy in mind for you, so he eventually tells you, and you're into it, too. especially considering construction pays pretty decently once you're up the ladder like tom is, technically you're one let's do it away from making your fantasy a reality. but there's just something about sensationalising something so easily obtainable, but not giving into it, that makes it all the more exciting for you both

i don't think either of you fully make your minds up about whether you want to start a family or live the dink (double income, no kids) life forevermore and use your money to spoil each other. i think you guys spend most of your twenties and maybe some of your early thirties just enjoying life, travelling the world, indulging yourselves, until eventually you settle down. a lot of yours and tom's friends, especially the ones who have already started families of their own, question why you wouldn't want to start young, grow up with your kids, and then enjoy your later years without the responsibility. but you and tom have talked it through, and his mindset has always been that you don't stop being a parent once the kid hits 18, and that he's always thought life was for living, not for saving up for a future that never ends up coming because you're forever saving up for it

i've written way more than i initially intended to LOL but yeah, i might make this something? i might not? idk. but this is my tommy. <3

#tom grant #tom grant x reader #tom grant imagine #tom grant reader insert #older!tom #older!tom grant

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sunderwight · 7 months

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loosely inspired by this excellent post.

human sex worker crowley s2 au where crowley has worked at mrs. sandwich's shop since before it was mrs. sandwich's shop (previously madam tracey's new age 'massage parlor'), having gotten into the biz back when he was in his 20's to help pay off some debts and never really gotten back out

it's not angsty, though. or at least not about the sex work part. crowley's been back to school and gotten a degree in engineering and he's picked up a handful of trades, worked other jobs here and there, he just generally doesn't like keeping to a strict schedule and enjoys the extra money on hand, so even when he's got another gig he usually keeps touch with the other workers and dips back in whenever the situation calls for it

the pandemic was harder than he let on though. between the drop in business and the rise in costs of living he lost his flat and has been living out of his car for a while (not that he's told anyone)

aziraphale has been his consistent client since he first started out and they were fresh-faced youths. crowley spotted a cute guy radiating gay vibes leaving a bookshop one evening and did a bit of (ordinary human) temptation, and the fussy young mr. fell tentatively ventured a couple steps out of his transparent closet and ended up buying the rogue dinner. paid for his time too, without even purchasing anything off crowley's own personal menu that night at all

(for clarity, aziraphale has known that crowley was a sex worker since they met but he has conflicted feelings about the purchasing of such 'wares' due to his strict religious upbringing and such, so it took a while before he bit the bullet. as it were)

anyway crowley is aziraphale's only paid-for companion and aziraphale is the only client who crowley has kept consistently for some 30 years (they've been off-and-on a few times, but never longer than a year), so they're definitely friends even though it can get awkward because actually they're in love because az is still in the closet to his distant-yet-scary family and church and crowley still sometimes gets organized crime contacts coming after him (it's a whole thing) plus he hasn't much of a mind to live in aziraphale's closet

matters come to a head when aziraphale's distant cousin gabriel flees the family and shows up at aziraphale's doorstep, naked and with amnesia and probably on drugs of some sort (so aziraphale assumes)

without having any idea of how to handle this situation, aziraphale calls crowley, because at least crowley knows how to tell if someone is at risk of dying from an overdose on weird amnesia shrooms and other useful things of that nature (and also because aziraphale doesn't know anyone else he'd call for an emergency of this magnitude and actually expect to get help from)

crowley recollects gabriel as aziraphale's asshole cousin who didn't help when the bookshop caught fire a few years ago, and even made a cruel joke to his buddies about how it was a shame that aziraphale hadn't gone up in flames along with his stupid books. so. crowley is not terribly sympathetic and thinks aziraphale should just drop him in a ditch somewhere

but aziraphale is determined to help, which means crowley gets roped in

crowley gets even more roped in when it then turns out that some of his old contacts are looking for gabriel too, for some reason (???) and are once again knocking on crowley's door (or at least turning up at his car) to insist that they know gabriel's probably hiding somewhere in the vicinity and if crowley finds him and turns him over, they'll finally let bygones be bygones and give him a big fat cash reward

an approximation of s2's plot ensues. I don't know how crowley and aziraphale get over-invested in the coffee/record shop lesbians without the miracle angle but it still happens somehow. they project a lot. amnesiac gabriel/jim is easy to hide only because they dress him like a nerd and muss up his hair so he doesn't look like any of his glossy cult headshot photos, and most of the people searching for him have never personally met him and aren't looking for an idiot in multilayered sweaters. muriel is from the cult but means no harm. turns out gabriel went on a really bad trip but his memory's starting to come back, he was trying drugs to impress crimelord beelzebub. who met him because of the above mentioned bookshop fire, and who still runs away with him at the end. aziraphale's manipulative family patriarch also turns up at the end to ruin everything. and aziraphale and crowley have a LOT of sex and feelings throughout.

does the divorce still happen? uncertain. on the one hand, aziraphale is still struggling with his baggage, but on the other hand, his family/cult is not quite so powerful or able to threaten him and crowley in this situation. love may win out.

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #sex work mention #crowley and aziraphale getting the shadwell and tracey happy ending in the south downs maybe?#or aziraphale goes back to try and fix his awful family and crowley cries into his sunglasses

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probablyasocialecologist · 3 months

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The new Luddites—a growing contingent of workers, critics, academics, organizers, and writers—say that too much power has been concentrated in the hands of the tech titans, that tech is too often used to help corporations slash pay and squeeze workers, and that certain technologies must not merely be criticized but resisted outright. I’ve been a tech journalist for a decade and a half; I did not begin my career as a critic. But what I’ve seen over the past 10 years—the rise of gig-app companies that have left workers precarious and even impoverished; the punishing, gamified productivity regimes put in place by giants such as Amazon; the conquering of public life by private tech platforms and the explosion of screen addiction; and the new epidemic of AI plagiarism—has left me sympathizing with tech’s discontents. After years of workers and citizens serving as Silicon Valley’s subjects, a movement is now under way to wrest back control. I consider myself a Luddite not because I want to halt progress or reject technology itself. But I believe, as the original Luddites argued in a particularly influential letter threatening the industrialists, that we must consider whether a technology is “hurtful to commonality”—whether it causes many to suffer for the benefit of a few—and oppose it when necessary.

#technology #luddites #ai #artificial intelligence #silicon valley

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celinolesunshine · 2 years

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Eyes Colored Sun, Mouth Like The Moon

A SUN/MOON X GN! READER FANFIC

CHAPTER ONE: such a big little friend

chap. 1 || chap. 2 || chap. 3 || chap. 4 || chap. 5

~~~~~~~~~~

'Bright like the sun', they said. That's when they decided to call you 'sunflower', because they couldn't read your nametag. He called you 'starlight', because of how you shone in his eyes.

It didn't take long to warm up to the dual persona of the daycare attendant, and somehow you found yourself.. drawn to them? You weren't sure, but you had the feeling you would be in it for the long haul.

It was only after months of working alongside them, however, you began to notice a change in Moon. he was... different. More distant, perhaps; and a shorter fuse to boot. They had you invested, and you were determined to figure out what was wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~

YES, It's a romance. slow-burned, but three installments of ten chapters each are planned so bear with me.

~~~~~~~~~~

Today, you're welcomed at your new job by a blonde in white slacks, and.. turns out you have an assistant (rather, you are their assistant.)

..What could go wrong?

such a big little friend

Your first day of work.

You had applied as a temporary daycare worker while you were in between jobs. You got the job for your experience with siblings, and the occasional babysitting gig. You hadn’t exactly expected to get the call confirming the start of your first shift, but surprisingly you took it anyways.

So here you stood, in front of the largest appropriation of Toy Story’s Pizza Palace you had ever seen, mouth agape at the bright lights and neon colours that decorated that outside of what a large, yellow-tinted neon sign informed you was Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex.

As you walked inside, you found your eyes temporarily assaulted as the colours and decorum srang out into your vision. You took it all in for a moment, glancing at the tiling on the floor, the ultraviolet lights strung to the ceiling, and the stage that gleamed in the centre of a giant open-diner setting.

This was potentially any child’s favourite place to be. Your mind spun at the entirety of this new, overstimulating environment.

“Hey, you! There you are; I was wondering when you’d show up!” A voice wormed its way to your attention; you snapped yourself around to find the source.

To your immediate left stood a young woman, likely in her mid-20s, towing over your small frame. She had a head full of honey-blonde hair, swept up into a neat ponytail, and piercing blue eyes. She seemed kind, although you found yourself wary of the stranger.

“Hello.” you spoke, treading cautiously. You didn’t recognize her uniform from any of the articles of the Pizzaplex you had hastily looked up in order to better understand the place – then again, you had just walked in –, and you couldn’t tell how she stood in comparison to you. Was she a higher-up? A fellow co-worker? You couldn’t quite figure it out.

The young woman seemed to sense your unease, because she smiled lightly, pointing to a gleaming white nametag on her chest.

“I’m Vanessa. We won’t be working together, but we’ll still be seeing plenty of each other, I’m sure.”

Vanessa looked to you expectantly, as if you were supposed to say something.

“Oh, right. Well, it seems you already know who I am. It’s nice to meet you.” You answer, straying towards a more diplomatic conversation for the sake of your position.

“I’m a security worker here. I’m on the graveyard shift, though; so we’ll basically tag-team, since we’re some of the only human employees around here.” She said.

You felt your brain blank for a split second.

“This place is massive! How can we be the only people running it? Plus,” You ass, prying into Vanessa’s thought-invoking choice of words, “–what exactly do you mean by ‘human employees’? We’re not working with Frankenstein’s monster or anything, are we?”

Vanessa snickered. “No, nothing like that. I suppose for an adult, you wouldn’t know much about the rise of this place. Well, maybe; – What was your previous job?”

You scratch the back of your neck. “I was a sketch artist for a local film company.”

With a sigh, you remember receiving the email – on an off day, no less – that the founder of the company had died. He was a sweet old man who had been making old-fashioned sketch cartoons for decades now, showing them off in a little 20-seat theater two blocks from where you lived. You had picked up the job when you were younger, staying with the company through all of the turmoil that It had faced, and were upset to see it go as it did. Still, you had to move on.

Vanessa makes a resolute noise.

“Yeah, no chance.” With a clack of her toes against the hard ground, she states,

“We work alongside robots.”

Oh.

It wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but all things considered? It was actually pretty cool. Not every day did you get the opportunity to work alongside advanced technology. You could recall building little land-rover type robots in primary school, peering at all of the little cogs and gears and crevices in the metal. You smiled.

“Actually, they’re called animatronics, formally, but there’s truly not much of a difference. Mostly the S.T.A.F.F bots are the ones hanging around, doing all of the things that normal employees would. Watch out for the map bots, though; Those buggers are scary as shit.” Vanessa said, her eyebrows scrunching up in disgust.

“Oh, and the Pat-Pats.” She said, smiling.

Upon a raised eyebrow, Vanessa clarifies, “Little yellow guys about yay-high–” She puts her hand at about knee level; “They stand on the floor when it’s been mopped, and then beep at you when they suspect you’re stepping into something wet.”

“Huh. That’s pretty cool.” You say.

“Yep. Well, before I go, I’ve been instructed to show you your placement, so if you’d follow me, I’ll go ahead and fill you in a bit more on the details of this place.”

You followed Vanessa through the long, glowing halls of the Pizzaplex, having her explain to you the mechanics of the place. It didn’t take you long to grow fond of the neons and the padding flooring; You already could tell that you would really like it here.

You both had reached the second floor now, towards what you trusted was the general direction of the Daycare you’d be working in.

“You probably won’t see any of the Glamrocks anytime soon, unless you need to grab someone from Parts & Services. Actually, you may see them sooner than you think. Sun’s a hell of a klutz.” Vanessa said, about three strides ahead of you. You began to sweat along your temples as you tried to keep up.

Confused, you started to ask who this ‘Sun’ character was, but you put curiosity first and asked about the Glamrocks.

“Who… are they?”

“Oh, the Glamrocks? Right, I forgot you don’t know much about the place.” Vanessa pointed down, towards the shining black stage in the middle of the first floor. From up here, it looked so much wider than it did standing in front of the entrance.

“They perform there a few times a day. They’re all animatronics, as well, but you won’t be working with em’, so I’ll spare introductions for another day. All of them are brand-new, as well; re-vamped versions of old mechanical concepts. I’ll have to show you the maintenance storage room where we keep all of the old parts of decommissioned animatronics; It’s freaky as fuck.”

You ran your hand along the guardrail overlooking the main stage. “I didn’t know there were older ones.”

Vanessa laughed lightly. “Well, yeah. It’s not really something of our generation, so I couldn’t expect you to know. Regardless, this whole ‘Freddy Fazbear’ franchise has been around for quite a while. It’s fascinating, really, how much everything’s changed. It’s probably the only reason I’ve really stuck around for so long.”

With a sigh, Vanessa rolls her shoulders back and takes her own hands off of the balcony guardrail. “Well, newbie, enough chit-chat. I’ll go ahead and show you to your post, and then I’ll be off. With enough luck, I’ll end up seeing you again before you leave.”

She led you to a pair of large, wooden doors that looked as if they were from a fairytale. They stood probably ten feet tall, and were a rich, chocolatey-brown color. Ornate patterns swirled and dipped into the lacquered surface, creating hidden nooks and crevices that must have taken ages to carve with such precision. You took hold of the large brass handle on the door, the cold metal pressing into your palms as you dragged it open.

You gasped.

Instead of sharp, dazzling colors, this room was full of light, subdued pastels. Greens and blues and soft pink colors washed the walls, polka-dots dappling the floor in carpeted bubbles of color. A check-in desk stood to the far left of the room, and tables with chairs were littered all over the main floor. Stairs twisted downward beyond the desk, likely towards the main daycare section, and a slide stood about five meters to the right of the stairs. A bright mantle above it said, “Slide Into Fun!”, and was where you suspected the children preferred to enter the daycare.

A bright golden statue stood in the middle of the daycare lobby, happy and inviting. It looked as if the character in the middle of the statue was a humanized version of the sun. It was odd, you admit, but interesting as well. You felt your lips tug into a grin.

“Welcome to the Superstar Daycare, newbie.” Vanessa called, approaching from behind you.

You pointed to the figure in the golden statue. “Is this the mascot? For the daycare, I mean – Not the whole place.”

Vanessa shrugged her shoulders slightly, raising her hands up as if to say, ‘so-so’.

“Sort of. It would actually be easier if I just showed you.”

Giving you no time to properly respond, Vanessa cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted,

“Hey, Sun! Get up here; I’ve found your new helper!”

All Vanessa did was smirk at you in the wake of your confusion, and you returned her gaze with one of perplexed insanity. What the hell was shouting into the abyss going to lead to?

“Newbie, meet your new assistant.” Vanessa said, still grinding broadly. It amused her greatly to see you so surprised at meeting the daycare attendant.

You were greeted by none other than the larger-than-life, full-color version of the figure in the statue. The animatronic stood easily at six and a half feet tall, towering over you in all of their glory. They had a bright yellowish-orange complexion, with a sun as a face. A gray crescent moon helped to shape their defining features, their nose and a bit of their mouth shaped from oddly-angled strips of moon. Their eyes glowed a luminescent white, bright in contrast to the sharp colors of their face. Seven orange triangles jutted out from the undersides of their face panel, simulating the rays of the sun.

You couldn’t help but smile at the funny-looking daycare worker, who seemed to be vibrating out of excitement.

“Okay; You can introduce yourself now, Sun.” Vanessa said. You had forgotten she was even there.

And that was all it took.

They pounced on you, scooping you easily up and into their arms, spinning and spinning and–

“Ohhh, a new friend! Oh, my! I’m soooo excited!” They exclaimed, spinning on a heel and stopping to set you down, winded.

“Wow! Quite the welcome, I see.” You begin, putting your hands on your knees.

“Oh, my- did I hurt you?!” They seem apologetic, but assume the same bubbly stature as before when you shake your head ‘no’. They continue.

“I pick up all of my new friends so that I can make a physical profile of them as they enter the daycare! You know, so in case somebody is being a little rule-breaker and tries to sneak into the daycare after-hours! I can tell their height, their weight, their health, and little things like what they smell like! That way, I’ll know if someone is here that should not be!” They state, smiling proudly.

Dipping down, the sun-shaped animatronic sprung into a goofy little pose, eyes gleaming happily; it set you off into a plethora of little giggles. Their exuberant energy was contagious.

“On that note – It’s absolutely wonderful to meet you, new helper-friend! I’m Sunnydrop, but you can call me Sun, if you’d like! Or whatever you want– I’m over the whole entire world that you’re here!”

You laughed again. This gangly array of metal and plastic was adorable.

“I’ll be helping out around here with you. And here – this is my nametag. So you know what to call me.” You handed Sun your little pin-on tag (which you had received in a little care package on the front desk once you arrived that also included a Faz-watch and some ride passes), where you had written your name in the blank spot.

They peer at it curiously, before taking it with careful hands.

They hold it up to their eyes, an odd little clicking sound emitting from their chest as they attempt to decipher what it says.

“Well, goodness! I can’t understand a single letter! I guess I’ll have to make up something fun to call you instead!” They hand you back your tag.

Of course. It’s in cursive.

Sun begins to descend the stairs directly in front of you, beckoning with a happy hand to follow. So you do.

When you reach the bottom, you’re struck again with amazement. Large, boldly-colored softplay structures cover the majority of the daycare floor, with slides and tunnels and ladders on every side. Interlocking foam mats cover the ground – to protect children from injury, you presume –, and little tables stand to the far right of what looks to be a desk of some sort.

And it’s all in impeccable shape. Sparkling and clean, just as if it were all brand-new. You were thoroughly impressed.

“You’re very bright, new friend! Bright and oh-so happy. You shine, shine, shine like a star, friend! What should your name be?” Sun rambled, pacing the floors like an overexcited puppy dog.

“–Oh, oh, I know! Sunflower! Bright, happy-shiny like the sun, pretty as flower petals – It’s perfect, isn’t it, new friend?” They continue.

Grinning broadly, you agree, “Yes, it is. I like it a lot, Sun, thank you! I’m really happy we’re working together. You’re fascinating.”

A funny little chirp emits from their voice box as you look up to them.

“Oh-ho, big words! Thank you, thank you – I am very, very happy to have a helper like you, too! I like it so-so-very much!”

Sighing, you ask, “Okay, so what should we do first to get ready for the day?”

“Well, little Sunflower, we need crafting things for the day! Glitter glue, crayons, colorful paper – do you like glitter glue? I do, oh, yes I do!”

You can’t help but nod. “I do. I haven’t used any in forever, but I have to admit, I like glitter, and funny socks, and little eyeballs that bounce around – they’re all really entertaining!”

Sun looks to you happily; contentedly, as if they were satisfied with your answer. Opening the door to a storage room, you gaped at the height of the doorframe, which was likely custom-built to accommodate for Sun’s height. They shuffled right through, their voice box crackling as they hummed a garbled tune.

You begin to pile boxes of crayons in your arms, but you must have collected one too many, because as you make your way to exit the room, you manage to lose your balance and tumble to the ground, crayons of all colors spilling and rolling every which way. But suddenly, there is Sun – bending down to help. He looks concerned.

“Are you alright, sunflower?! Oh, no, this is such a mess, yes it is! We’ve got to clean all of this up! Not to worry, not to worry - we’ll have it all picked up in no time!” They proceeded to lift you up by the armpits and pull you back to your feet.

“I was wrong! You’re not very little, no-no. Haha, such a big little friend! Though not as tall as me, yes! You are still small.”

Shaking your head, you begin to help pick up the spilt stationery on the floor, but Sun pushed you back with a hand, his other hand seamlessly gathering crayons between his nimble fingers as you struggle, puzzled.

“Nope! Hurt friends don’t have to help clean up! Not this time!”

Sighing, you accepted your fate and stepped away. At least they cared for your well-being.

Of all the places that you could have worked, you were coming to the stunning conclusion that this place wasn’t going to be all that awful. In fact, you thought that it wasn't even going to feel much like work at all.

#fnaf security breach #sundrop #sundrop x reader #moondrop #moondrop x reader #sun x reader #moon x reader #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf moon #fnaf sun

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