#Payday safe house

[paydayunofficial]

Dying because this is an actual thing in the payday safe house

(Does anyone remember what heist Bain said “wolf stay off the dance floor” in?)

[sp0o0kylights]

Eddie was all about desecrating corpses. 

Particularly, the huge ones--and nothing was larger than the burnt out husk of Starcourt. 

Yellow caution tape, muddied and ripped from its time in the weather still decorated parts of the doors. 

The place used to be crawling with security, but that had eased off now, the job returning to a local outfit rather than the smooth and swift guards who previously haunted the joint in pairs. 

It was easy as two days spent camped out in his van, watching the main entrance and a few side doors. In no time at all, Eddie had schedules memorized, points of entry selected and even three possible escape routes should things get dicey.

He didn't expect them to. 

Not when he’d already rolled his checks and came up with a number that, were this an actual D&D game, would make him a happy man. 

It was always a point of contention between him and his Pa. This perception. The natural ability he had that good ‘ol dad just didn’t seem to possess. 

The one that made him patient long enough to get a feel for a gig. 

To know instinctively how hard a job might be, and how to go about doing it safely. 

(Eddie personally doesn't believe much of it is talent. Thinks it is in fact, forcibly learned, due to the nature of his upbringing. 

Grandma and Grandpa Munson, bless their dead, departed souls, had at least given something of a shit. Tried to keep family things family and work things work, even when said work was illegal as it gets. 

They understood things like appearance and public reputation. 

How that kept the pigs off your back and food on your table.)

His Pa had never cared for any of that. 

Eddie didn’t grow up with family meals, or even food in the house let alone on the table. He grew up watchful, forced to learn or take a hit meant for an adult in the process. To weigh the risks against the benefits, and how to charm the pants off an unsuspecting target while doing so. 

It was how he’d escaped his own prison sentence when his Pa finally got eyes too big for his abilities.

Eddi had gotten lucky in that situation. 

Or rather--he’d gotten Wayne. 

Wayne, who gave up his own room, his own bed, for his nephew. Had bought him his sweetheart on his sixteenth birthday and a van on his eighteenth. Both things were used, and a little battered around the edges, and Eddie had almost thrown up the day he accidentally found out Wayne had used his life savings for the damn car, but they were above and beyond anything he had any right too. 

Eddie would be damned without him. 

But he knows his uncle needs help. 

Can't pay for himself and Eddie. Never really could, and so has been giving his nephew literally everything he has in an effort to make up for it until Eddie could help pay his way. 

Not that a singular soul would trust a teenage Munson with such a precious thing as a part time job, and so Eddie had turned to the familiar. 

The mall fire, and the resulting flood of federal agents had really put a damper on his income the past few months. Drugs were risky, and getting riskier with them sniffing about, and things were getting tight again in a way they hadn’t in a long, long time. 

(All it had taken was finding the hidden stack of bills. 

Big ol’ words stamped in red topped every one. Bold letters screaming ‘Overdue’ and ‘Payment Missed’ and ‘Late Fees.’ 

One single letter had panicked Eddie more than any other, the one that clearly said Wayne had been talking to the payday loan place down the street, and he’d be damned if his shortcomings made his Uncle willingly walk into a debt pit so few climbed out of.) 

Growing up like he had, Eddie was trusted in certain circles. Had access to places many didn't as his sole inheritance, because he was known.

 Someone who didn't rat, who could be trusted with given tasks. Who kept to the criminal code, and was good about not backstabbing you if caught.

He’d hit up a few old connections, dropped some hints. Put out “feelers” as one might say. 

Got a nibble and soon enough, Eddie was back in business, getting called up and offered a few small tasks for decent dough. 

Sometimes it was fetching information. 

Sometimes it was ferrying an item.

Today, it was a retrieval.

There was something someone wanted in the ruins of Starcourt--and they were offering an insane amount of money to get it.  

The plans hadn't made sense, not at first. The instructions Eddie had been given sounded outlandish, if not outright total bunk. 

Like the existence of a multi level basement under Starcourt? How the hell had no one caught that being built? 

Or that the security systems down there could possibly still be turned on? After four months? 

Who was even paying for it? 

Eddie had heard stupider things though, and the pay for this little jaunt was good. Too good to pass up. 

"They want a local in case something happens and the rescue squad comes running in. That way, it's just a little trespassing fun. The town deviant getting his kicks in the big scary mall, and not what they think it is." His connection had told him, meeting with Eddie in a Mcdonalds the town over. 

The place had a play palace, big enough to host a number of screaming rugrats. It made for a great cover as they pretended to be just two men in overalls, getting burgers on their lunch. 

Not a soul could hear a sound over the kids screaming, and if a blueprint sat between them then, well, if it looks like a maintenance worker, and it talks like a maintenance worker…

People never did look twice.

"And what else exactly would they think this is?" Eddie asked, munching on the food he got for free as part of even entertaining the offer. 

"A retrieval, Double D." 

Eddie hated that nickname.

"Some rich kid bit it in the fire, and his parents are paying out top dollar to get a few of his things, seein’ as the feds wouldn’t let anybody back in after they condemned the place." The guy, whose name was Mickey said. 

He idly traced a finger along the lines of the blueprint, the path he was wanting Eddie to take. 

(The path Eddie would later ignore, on grounds that it was going to get him caught.) 

 “Specifically a signet ring and car keys.”

“Car keys?” Eddie had asked, mostly in a bid for more information. Mickey was the kind of guy you could breadcrumb into giving more information than he intended to, if one played their cards right.

And Eddie was a damn good poker player. 

“Yup. Goes to a BMW--which they want you to drive to a safe place. Parents think he lost it somewhere around,” Mickey’s finger stopped, before tapping the blueprint twice. “Here.”

Something had niggled in the back of Eddie’s head. The first whispers of recognition, of a fact that he knew something about this--something he couldn’t yet recall. 

He wasn’t stupid enough to ignore it. 

“Who's the kid?” He’d asked. 

Mostly because he was curious, partially because it was a way to ease in the real questions he wanted to ask.

Like what a rich kid was doing four levels down in Starcourt the night of the fire. 

“Does it matter?” Mickey said, but dug into his pockets anyway. Retrieved a little 2 by 3 wallet photo, done in the traditional High School Picture Day style. 

He’d tossed it on the table, and Eddie didn’t react. 

Kept his face perfectly blank, even as his stomach contracted and his breath caught in his chest. 

Carefully pulled the picture to him, to make a show of examining it. 

“Don’t know him.” He lied after a moment, fighting to get his breathing back under control before Mickey figured out what was up. 

“Told you it didn’t matter. What matters is that you get the shit. And hey, while you’re down there…” 

Mickey talked a bit more, and idly, Eddie listened. He knew this little B&E was going to have more components than just retrieving a few things. Had long figured out that this entire front of retrieving “some rich kids keys” was just that--a front. 

Word on the street was that Starcourt was hiding something--something a lot of very powerful people were getting increasingly interested in. He’d rolled his eyes when he caught wind of the first little rumblings, the rumors and whispers that the thing was shrouded in Government secrets and conspiracies, but hadn’t been able to ignore the shit that had come after. 

Likely, the people who had hired him and Mickey understood they had to act now, before someone else did, to see if anything worthwhile was actually down there. 

The real question is why the hell they were using Steve Harrington’s death to do it--when Eddie knew for a fact that Steve Harrington was alive. 

Or alive as anyone could be, at two am at a Shell gas station. 

“Alright.” Eddie said finally, pulling the blueprint towards himself before rolling it up, making sure to casually roll up Harrington’s picture with it. “You got me interested. Half up front and I’m in.”

Mickey grinned at him. “Knew you would be, kid.” 

One hand shake and a hefty envelope later, and Eddie found himself on the way to Starcourt on his very first stakeout. 

It was that first initial look that confirmed it--Harrington’s prized BMW was in fact, still sitting in the parking lot.

Abandoned by rich assholes who absolutely could have paid to have it towed.

Which led to a domino effect of stakeouts, late nights and confrontations, up to and including his present position, counting down the minutes before he could break into Starcourt.

“Ready?” He murmured, and one could be forgiven for thinking he was talking to himself given how quietly he said it.

They would be wrong. 

“Yeah.” The not-so-dead rich kid drawled from the passenger seat.

Eddie tossed a grin at Harrington, who rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Come on, Stevie.” He purred. “Let’s go find out who impersonated your parents, and why they want that ring you supposedly own so badly.” 

“Honestly dude I just want my car back.” 

“That too.” 

[trancylovecraft]

Yandere striker from helluva boss?

• This man as a yandere is not good for you at all. 

• Protective, Manipulative, Possesive and a little sadistic

• Protective in the he views you as delicate, Something that could be easily broken or torn apart. Whether this be emotionally soft or physically weak he views himself as your protector. And he takes pride in that title, too.

• Possessive in the way he also views you as his and only his. He wants your attention on him at all times. He doesn’t view you as a possession per se, Close to it but he still see's you as a living being.

• Sadistic in the way that he loves the chase. He enjoys the way he will get you in his arms. Your reactions are everything. He wants you to feel scared, He wants you to run into his arms because its the only place you’ll feel safe. All while he grins and happily comfort you.

• When you capture his attention you probably wont even know. He could of just saw you one day and he just had to stop and stare. You were so beautiful, The prettiest thing he’d ever seen. Maybe it was the way you looked, Walked, Talked or something else he couldn't place. He didn’t know.

• He started to follow you around wherever you went in hell (This scenario hinges on you being an imp or a succubae. A hellborn demon could work too) You would never know he was there either, He’s a proficient assassin and he knows how to get around without being noticed.

• He watches you for a good few days before making his move. In that time he learns where you work, Sleep. Where you go to get your food or where you go to eat on payday. Your routine is memorised.

• When he does finally make his move, He’s already made up his mind. He wants you.

• When you show up to work you hear the news of a missing co-worker. Despite your good nature Hell wasn't as kind as you, Being only talked about as a passing comment. But according to your bosses they had already found a replacement.

• Soon the talk about your missing colleague quickly turned about gushing over the replacement. Apparently he was extremely attractive, Charming and of course, A hard worker. You thought it’d be good to introduce yourself soon, Try to make a new friend

• And you met him sooner than you thought. As you turned a corner you happened to bump into him, And wow did he live up to his reputation.

• You introduced yourself and he kissed your hand. He complimented your looks and took an interest in you.

• Spite his flirtatious behaviour you figured he did this to all the ladies in the office as you saw the group of jealous girls around the water cooler giving you side eye glances.

• So you moved on, Back to your work. Expecting to only talk to him through email or in passing talk. And that’s how it was.

• But a few days after he started you noticed things in your house seemed wrong. Things started being moved about. Things would get misplaced.

• It was stuff like your lipstick, Your shampoo and your jewellery. You know you didn’t misplace them, you were too careful for that. But there was no evidence of break in.

• The days after you were very paranoid. You looked behind your back for anyone following you. You made sure to get home before the sun even dared to set and you made sure to keep a pocket knife neatly tucked away in your purse.

• You went into work with the same paranoia. And wouldn't you know, Striker was the one approach you to see if you're doing okay. He was busy both with work and literally every co-worker talking to him, Yet he came up and talked to you of all people.

• You saw nothing much wrong with this. He didn't seem dangerous or have any ill intention. Though you do find it strange he noticed you throughout his possy.

• So you explained to Striker your situation while he listened intently. He expressed sympathy and he told you he could come over later to check out your house. It felt amazing, Everyone in hell would either ignore you entirely or mock you for it. But Striker listened, So you accepted his offer of checking around your house.

• He left afterwards, So you went back to work.

• Later after your shift ended you met up with him and walked to your house together. You got to talking and it turns out you have a lot in common with him. You like the same music, Like the same food and enjoy the same activities. You never knew how similar you were.

• When you entered your house you suddenly screamed in terror.

• On your windows, written in blood was “LOCK YOUR WINDOWS NEXT TIME”. Glass was shattered, furniture was knocked over. And worst of all? The corpse of your missing colleague on the table

• You were crying. Having a full blown meltdown at the sight of your house. Striker swoops in and comforts you. Tells you its alright. He says that as long as he’s here it’ll be okay, And you believe him.

• For the next few days he is by your side 24/7. At work, At his home (The one you moved into) and anywhere in the seven circles he was there with you. You would go to the police but unfortunately in hell they don't exist

• Eventually you got into a relationship.

• He’s a perfect gentleman when he gets with you. He buys you expensive gifts to your taste, Boquets every other day. Holds the door for you everywhere you go.

• Of course your not allowed to leave his house after a while, Your stalker is still out there after all.

• He doesn't tell you that he was the one setting up your stalker scenario. He was the one that killed your co-worker, He was the one that broke into your house just to mess shit up. But you wont know that, Not yet at least.

• His petname for you is “Little Lady” or “Sugar” if he’s in the mood

• Any rivals that came up at anytime are instantly taken out. Lovesick co-worker, He doesn't care. A solid chunk of lead is going straight through their skull.

• The only time you do go out of the house is on dates. He takes you out to restaurants in the lust ring, Goes stargazing with you and takes you horse riding with him.

• All the while still planting little hints about your stalker still being there, Driving you closer into his arms.

• If you do find out the truth you’ll be horrified, Absolutely terrified.

• You’ll try to run away, But trust me it will not be easy. He’s adept at tracking and hunting, No matter where you run he’ll catch you. You can't go to anyone too, This is hell. Nobody cares.

• As you run suddenly your swept off your feet and thrown on the back of his horse. He chastises you for trying to get away, About how dangerous the world is and how you need to stay with him to be safe.

• He drags you back to his little cave hideout. And trust me, You will never see the light of day again

• You're his, He will never let you go.

[copperbadge]

Radio Free Monday

Good morning everyone, and welcome to Radio Free Monday!

Ways to Give:

Anon linked to a fundraiser for Andrea, a trans woman, UU minister, and veteran, and her wife Wren, a genderqueer veteran, who are currently homeless along with their three cats. While they are working with the VA to get approval for housing assistance, they're in need of funding to get back on their feet; you can read more and support the fundraiser here.

littleredreadinghood linked to a fundraiser for kirkaut, who was recently diagnosed with an aggressive cancer and is in need of help with medical bills. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

like-the-midnight-sun linked to a fundraiser for a close friend, a queer, trans, and multiply-Disabled writer who has just lost their job and needs to pay a steep phone bill to reactivate their service so they can look for work. You can give via paypal here or via Chime to nachonaco.

Anon linked to a fundraiser for crazywolf828, whose grandfather, one of the household's main income sources, recently suffered a broken hip and is currently in a rehab center; they need help with medical bills among other things. You can read more and reblog here or give via ko-fi here. (The page does pop up a "possible NSFW comment" warning window but there's nothing NSFW on that page.)

Anon linked to a fundraiser for Vinn, a disabled nonbinary person who is raising funds to move away from Utah, where being a queer person is becoming steadily less safe, to Michigan, where they have a place to live with their partner already set up. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

like-the-midnight-sun and her wife are multiply marginalized people who don't feel safe in the US anymore; they are fundraising to move to somewhere in Europe, probably Norway or Sweden, where they will be less likely to experience violent persecution. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

like-the-midnight-sun and her wife are also hoping to get temporary assistance with a vet bill before they go out of town; the appointment is the day before payday and they won't be able to cover it until they are paid. They need a loan of $150 that they can pay back; you can give (with repayment on March 30th) via paypal here, via Venmo to ARZinzani (9980), or via Chime at $Nassun-0428.

Recurring Needs:

thelastpyler is raising funds to help with food, transportation, and replacement IDs after being robbed; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

And this has been Radio Free Monday! Thank you for your time. You can post items for my attention at the Radio Free Monday submissions form. If you're new to fundraising, you may want to check out my guide to fundraising here.

[bullet-prooflove]

Set Up To Fail: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Tagging: @shanimallina87 @malindacath @@djs8891 @dempy @words-and-seeds @cosmic-psychickitty @xoxabs88xox @hardballoonlove @@ssa-sadboi @iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface @queenslandlover-93 @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond 

It’s been a long time since Jake has had a flashback, he used to have them occasionally in his early twenties after he received his care file, but he hasn’t had one in a couple of years. However, there’s a moment when he’s slipping out of the door of the locker room that Rooster puts his hand on his shoulder to tell him something and it hits him. It feels like someone has put a filter over his vision, the past and the present flickering and merging into one. For a second, he’s back in the trailer of his parent’s dealer, trying to slip away because the fumes, they’re choking him. He sees the gap in the door a sliver of light in the haze and he dives for it, but there’s a hand on his shoulder, a grip he can’t shake off pulling him back. He doesn’t escape that night; he’s forced to sit there as his parents’ barter meth for their only son. They leave the trailer without him.

His reaction in the present is unwarranted. He tears himself away from the other man and hurtles through the door, letting it slam behind him.  It’s only when he sits in his car, both hands gripping the steering wheel and his heart pounding in his chest that he realises that Rooster was only trying to return his keys.

He ends up walking to your place, it’s not far only a couple of clicks but every step feels like it’s agony because his nerves are flayed raw, and he keeps thinking about all of other shit he read in that file.

About how his family was known to social services already before he was picked up for trying to sling meth. About how going back to that trailer emptyhanded had meant earning it some other way, he’d seen it happen with other kids and he refused to be one of them. When he was caught it was almost a relief because it turns out he was pretty shit at hawking meth and Crispin, his parent’s dealer had already been making noises about how a good-looking kid like him can fetch a decent payday.

He ends up in a group home with no hope of getting fostered or adopted. The problem is he’s seven years old and feral because meth heads don’t make good parents and he’s been forced to fend for himself ever since he can remember. It takes him a while to realise that only the good kids get to leave that place, so he tries to moderate his behaviour, become one of them. He tidies himself up and works his ass off but by then it’s too little, too late because by that point he’s entering his teenage years and he learns that boys have a lower chance of being selected than girls.

Looking back, from the very beginning he’d been set up to fail.

When he gets to your house, he can’t bring himself to knock. There’s such turmoil inside of him, it wrenches at his insides, and he isn’t sure that he wants you to see this, that he wants anyone to see this. The choice is taken out of his hands when you pull the door open, Cujo’s lead in your hand, and you see the look on his face.

The problem is he’s never had a home until he met you, you’re a safe space in a sea of chaos. He knows that instinctively and his instincts, they haven’t failed him yet. You usher him inside, Cujo pressing against his legs because that dog, he knows how to read a room and he knows when one of his people are hurting.

It’s on the couch that he tells you what happened, with Cujo’s face in his lap, his palm smoothing over the dog’s head as he looks up at Jake with the most empathetic expression he’s ever seen. It’s grounding the feel of his fingers combing through Cujo’s fur, somehow it makes it easier to vocalise the messiness inside of his head. The most debilitating part is that he thought he was over it, that the past was in the past but he’s coming to learn that the foundations of his early life still bleed into his every day. He can’t understand what triggered it, he’s been clasped on the shoulder a thousand times before and he’s never felt anything this visceral.

Your fingers thread through his, your thumb caressing over the outline of his hand and he feels the tension starting to ebb from his body.

“Sometimes it can be a something as simple as a sound, a sight, a smell, even a sensation…”

It’s then that it clicks. An echo in his mind. The ghost of a memory. A hand clasping his shoulder, the door closing and that scent, the sharp tang of aftershave on his tongue as he’s drawn back. It’s a moment of clarity because he remembers now, Rooster mentioning the new cologne he’d bought, him spraying it into the air after he changed out of his flight suit. It’s not the same, but it’s similar enough. Those actions and that smell at the same time…

“Fuck.” He mutters before tipping his head towards you, his eyebrows furrowing. “What the fuck am I supposed to tell him?”

“How about the truth?” You suggest. “He’s your friend, he’s going to want to know what happened, how he can help.”

You see his jaw clench as he averts his gaze back to Cujo.

“Jake,” You say softly. “The thing about PTSD is it’s insidious, it feels like it’s this shameful, terrible secret but it’s not, it’s a part of you. What happened tonight was horrible, it took you back to some dark fucking places, but it doesn’t change the progress you’ve made, how far you’ve come. You’re still you, you’re still one of the strongest people I know.”

He gives you a look and you squeeze his hand gently.

���I mean it.” You say forcefully. “I’m proud of you.”

There are so many ways a man with his history could have turned out, but he’s managed to circumvent them all and instead he’s here, making something of himself, a lieutenant in one of the most prestigious programs in the Navy.

“I didn’t realise how much I needed to hear that.” He admits quietly, his arm coming to rest across your shoulders before he draws you close, his lips brushing over your hairline.

“Thank you.” He whispers. “Thank you for being there when I need you, thank you for loving me.”

Love Hangman? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

This morning I woke up, 4 days after payday, with my bank account fully in the negative, little to now grocery shopping done in the past 6 weeks due to finances, and exhausted. I drove to the food pantry (because there's not a busline from the house to it, and I wouldn't have had money for a ticket even if there was) and even though it's named for a Jewish concept using a Hebrew word with Jewish religious significance, I pulled up to a Methodist Church. I sat in their sanctuary surrounded by pride flags and other people in need of food, and waited 90minutes to be called into the distro space. There, a woman sat with me and stared for a moment at my listed income on my application sheet and asked three times if it was right before slowly entering the information she knew would disqualify me from the program and quietly told me I could not pick up an allotment. I told her I understood and made a joke about never imagining I could make this much money in my life, let alone make it and still not afford groceries, and she told me I couldn't pick up an allotment but if I spoke with her supervisor they'd make sure I didn't leave empty handed. I said I was grateful and that if they had rice and sugar I could make do for a month. The program director told me they don't have sugar, but packed me a small bag of rice and canned veggies and some apples and frozen blueberries, and I told them again that I was grateful and it was true.

I don't know why I'm typing this out. I feel so weird and have been wrestling with this since leaving the food pantry. I don't really have a point here. I *am* grateful they helped me when they had no need to. I *am* grateful they're here to be asked for help. They were kind and treated all of us (not just me) as human, and it's clear they knew many of the people there with me as regulars. I walked by a staff person praising an elderly woman's new haircut since her last visit, saying she looked beautiful, and the woman glowed! Everyone was talking and having a lovely time and clearly felt welcome and safe there.

But I saw how everyone treated the children. They were happy, well loved children, visibly. They smiled and waved at me when I walked by, and they were full of play and energy. Which is maybe part of why they were confused and slow to recall when their parents tried to keep them calm and still. It was maybe why they were delighted that I smiled and waved and sat with them, since no other adult was doing it. No one was even looking at them except to "keep them out of trouble". I remember places like that when I was young. I remember the ones who could see my mom as human enough to give her boxes of fruit and current-day sell date foods in the back of a store or church house. But who couldn't see me, her child, as human enough to even say hello to me or ask my name. It taught me that begging was something you do carefully, a dance of placation, pitifulness, and humble pride, all carefully added in drops until the person who can keep you from starving decides if and how to do that. As a child, my clumsy social graces weren't up to the challenge of keeping the steps of the dance, so it was better I stay silent than risk destabilizing my mother's work. I found myself dancing her steps this morning, and hating myself for the way I framed and shared my truth, regretful and brought low instead of asserting my humanity not be pinned upon my financial status. I didn't lie to anyone. Nothing I said was untrue or even eliding of truth. But I knew that the truth only mattered as it fit a particular story of need, and so I made sure it did.

This is charity, I think. Earning the gifts from your benefactors that will allow you to survive, all while remaining just pitiable enough, just small enough, not to threaten their sense of distance from you. They're here to aid the needy. It helps remind them that they are not us. But I am. In every way. So what has gone wrong? How could this be? It disrupts the reassurance.

It's why they had no sugar you see. No chips, no snacks, no sweets for the children, and no sugars. Sugars are a luxury. Not a basic staple of cooking. At least not to them. Sugars are used for cakes and candies, not for marinades and cooking oils. So why should we need them? It would just hurt our health anyway.

I've decided what this post is I think. It's a recipe.

Sin-free Simple Syrup Recipe

Live in economic freefall? Rely on church run food donations to eat? Really tired of someone trying to suggest that fruit serves the same role as fucking sugar in your efforts to feed yourself?

Me too, bitch, me too.

Reinvigorate your sense of self after having it ripped apart to appease the charity staff with this 4 ingredient fruit-flavored simple syrup that can be used as liquid sugar in many recipes (as long as you don't mind fruity sugar in your recipe!)

4 cups frozen fruit (blueberries, in my case)

1 cup room temp water

A squeeze of citrus juice or crushed ginger root if you have it (to taste)

1-2 tablespoons of sugar-sap product (maple syrup, honey, molasses, etc) or 1-2 tablespoons of sugar (any kind) depending on what's available

Throw all together with any other flavors you may care for (spices, etc) in a heavy saucepot, and simmer on low/medium-low until reduced to your preferred syrup texture, then transfer to an airtight container and chill. It can store for 2weeks, so cut the batch in half or quarters if you expect to not use much in that timeframe.

I use simple syrup in ratios of about 1tbs simple syrup for every 3-4 tablespoons of dry cane sugar, and about 1tbs simple syrup for every ¼cup of sugar-sap product. Feel free to experiment and find your own substitute ratios.

[biframes]

Do you plan on making any more payday fics on AO3? I loved the ones you made and hope you work on more

Thank you so much!! That makes me so happy. I worry that my writing is not so good, so your praise is encouraging.

I have several Payday stories that have been unfinished for a while. Unfortunately inspiration to write is more difficult than inspiration to draw...

The closest to completion is a story I wanted to write about Jimmy, Jacket, Sydney and Wolf and their friendship. They are my favourite characters so I like to imagine them hanging out together at the safe house. I hope that people will enjoy it when it's done. I also have sequels to my Jimmy/Duke and Sokol/Jacket stories, but they are not as close to finished.

Thank you again for your kind message. I truly appreciate it.

[yanderes-galore]

Alright, I sent them in! This will be the last request, a concept of Jacket from Payday 2, perhaps? -🐈

Finally, Payday content! It gets a masterlist now! This is me heavily speculating as the most Jacket's personality is described as is "Sociopath"... which doesn't help much.

Yandere! Jacket Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Violence, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Murder, Kidnapping, Isolation, Blood, Sociopathic tendencies mentioned (according to WebMD), Forced companionship/relationship.

First off, Jacket is a sociopath.

According to online, he'd have low empathy, impulsive behavior, controls with threats, manipulative, doesn't learn from punishment, lies for personal gain, and tends to be violent.

Another curious detail about Jacket is he only communicates through tape recorder lines.

This isn't all cases I'm sure but this is what I found on WebMD.

He appears mute and would only communicate through tapes.

Which only makes him more unnerving.

I imagine when not on heists with the gang he's in his space of the hideout recording new lines and playing arcade games.

If you think about it he'd be terrifying if he was obsessively attached to you.

He'd have no remorse and little empathy towards the pain he causes you and those around you.

All he really cares about is having you.

Jacket most likely gets attached to another member of the gang.

This would allow you two to speak more often in the safe house.

Well... not entirely "speak" but you get my point.

Jacket may act like a team player to the gang but he can be selfish.

I imagine once he has his eyes on you he fixates intensely.

He's impulsive around you.

Jacket would stick around you during heists and down time.

During heists he tends to get more violent towards cops and works hard to protect you.

Something that scares you about Jacket is how into it he gets when he's violent.

You can't tell if he enjoys it or not but he certainly gets repetitive when you're nearly hurt.

It's more like he's venting pent up rage to you.

He doesn't care about the blood on his clothes.

Jacket may be touchy so when he hugs you he doesn't care if the blood stains you either.

Jacket most certainly controls others through violence and threats.

He's rough with hostages and sometimes threatening to you.

Although when you bring up your discomfort he tries to tone it back.

He isn't really sympathetic but he has some sort of care for you.

A care no one else really understands... including you.

Jacket may also be manipulative towards his obsession.

He mixes together tapes specifically to refer to you with.

Things that tell you to stay a little longer, that he knows best, that he can protect you.

All sorts of manipulative behavior.

It's both caring yet eerie to you because he makes eye contact while clicking his tape to speak.

Jacket also doesn't learn from his mistakes or just doesn't seem to care.

If he's caught being violent towards someone you know of being a bit too clingy, he'll pause but do it again later.

You can't correct him.

Jacket does what he wants.

His obsession tends to be manipulative and violent.

He's volatile.

While around you he can be softer, he can also come off as rough.

You can not tell me he wouldn't kidnap.

Jacket is a yandere who goes into extreme territory.

He has no guilt, he only thinks about himself.

He'll gladly zip tie your wrists to a chair in a dark room to keep you to himself.

He will even brutally harm those around you until he's covered in residue.

Even if you scold him of show fear, he doesn't care.

That's another of the many things that makes him terrifying.

He has no guilt, he thinks of just himself.

If he wants you, he'll have you.

You can fight him but it will not deter him.

No, instead Jacket will drop his bloody bat and crouch in front of you, just to touch your cheek.

When he is covered in the proof of his brutality and sees you restrained before him... Jacket feels complete.

This is exactly where he wants you to be... all his... the best treasure that no heist can beat.

[fistfuloftarenths]

rugan headcanons pt 2

firstly realized what i thought was his shirt are yellow sleeves laced onto his armor so i guess they're some heavier canvas material to provide some protection. underneath looks like he's wearing a blue shirt. still maintain he patched the elbows himself.

can read better than he can write but not that good at either. counts on his fingers. can't count on paper or with an abacus, which is one of the reasons zarys outranks him.

has no money saved. figured his luck would run out at some point and his corpse'd get rolled into the ditch same way he's rolled some poor other bastards, and there's no point in giving them a payday when they turn out his pockets.

on the road is relentlessly tidy. has to know everything is well maintained and in the right place. doesn't have to look where fire flasks are when leaving caravan, just puts hand out and grabs the bandoliers/basket/whatever because he's checked and rechecked it multiples times.

has a room in a guild-owned boarding house. sparse, empty. a little lonely. not much personality on display. safe and clean place to sleep and store whatever gear he's not taking with him. not much more - some bottles of (smuggled) top shelf liquor, an expensive map of the sword coast. not somewhere he'll bring people, as a rule.

is acknowledged as lucky by most of the rest of the caravan and gate crew. in cards, in not stepping in horseshit, in not getting rained on, in finding attractive drinking partners, in getting rescued from by becoming gnoll food by - bellar brem and zarys assumed he was talking up tav because it was better story but then tav actually turns up and he wasn't.

only rugan would get rescued by a hero that looks like that and who would then walk into a a zhent hideout. jammy bastard.

he's beginning to push his luck too far for zarys liking. he knows his stuff and for all he's lucky he's canny and careful too. or he used to be.

after a probation period, had a flying serpent branded into his hip, and ash rubbed into it. no way to get rid of that mark, even if he wanted to leave the zhents.

may or may not have had a black hand tattooed on his ass while drunk. definitely has had at least one nicer tattoo done when he was flush with gold. fewer scars than you'd expect given his age, and most have healed cleanly.

[agentleem]

The secret ending to payday 2 will always be the secret ending of all time to me just because of how ludicrous the path to get it is.

Firstly, you need to have done a few specific heists in order to get the goods for them. This’ll unlock them for display in your safe house. Once you finish with that, you need to take a medallion from one of the heister’s rooms and put it near them, putting together an apparatus of sorts with the objects.

Once you’re done, you can then proceed to go into the room of Scarface from the hit movie Scarface, and use a gun to play a tune on the piano. Afterwards, the apparatus thing will stop spinning and can be interacted with.

You gotta remember (or take a picture) of the 20 different messages that show up from there, because they are in a makeup language with unique symbols, no spaces/punctuation, and backwards. Translating them hints at a list of 20 achievements randomly selected from a list of 57 that you have to complete.

Then, you have to get on a slightly harder than average White House heist with 3 other people who did the previous steps with you, where you play it as normal until you enter the underground area and have to find a glowing painting. It only glows when everyone is able to do it.

After blowing up the wall behind it, you have to reach a vault with the same language on it. From there, you have to translate the outer ring of text and put in a password that answers it. While hordes of reskinned cloaker (enemies that insta-down players) swarm you. A total of 4 times, with a single incorrect one resetting everything.

Once you enter, you have to go back to the door after a while to confront the guy from breaking bad, and make sure to shoot him before he shoots your buddy. Finally, you have to plug Mayan gold into several holes in the ground for you to finally unlock the ending

That’s a fucking secret ending if I’ve ever seen one

[banditherobot]

Payday reddit compared to Payday tumblr is hilarious. Payday Reddit is over there discussing builds and updates and gameplay while Payday tumblr is just like hey what if all of the gang were being all cute and gay in the safe house all the time :)

[masterqwertster]

For the Color Prompts, maybe Blue 3 and/or Purple 1 for Ashton and the Krook House gang? 🥺👉👈

Going with Blue 3 "Did you take your medication?"

Anni thought it was strange when she first came to the Krook House. 

Whenever Ashton is actually around, not gone on a job or passed out for the vast majority of the day, he mother hens Milo’s ass, makes sure they rest and eat and take their meds. But when the human tries to flip that around, especially when it’s having the genasi take medication for his issues, the dumb rock resists and evades.

Like, hypocrisy sure is a Thing. Anni knows that, has seen it plenty enough. It’s just that this example doesn’t make a lot of sense to her. 

Until it does.

Because holy fuck does it take big doses to properly medicate Ashton. That or potent doses, and both options are expensive. The Krook House is never really rolling in cash (even if Ashton does occasionally come through with a bigger payday), so they can’t exactly afford to keep Ashton medicated like they do Milo. And fuck if Ashton isn’t the kind of dumbass who will see that and decide to take the painful blow to keep the tinkerer safe (and nominally sane).

Shit. It even sheds a new light on the Fucking Drunkard label she’d slapped on them. Plenty of cheap booze to be found for drowning your sorrows, so many dulled thoughts stored at the bottom of a bottle. It still takes more alcohol than most humanoids could drink without passing out to get Ashton well and truly sloshed, but it’s still cheaper than the meds they should be taking.

Fuck. It makes her sympathetic to the big green asshole. And attached is the last thing either of them want to be.

But it’s so fucking hard not to get attached when all he does is fucking care about anyone who’s not himself.

Dumb fucker.

When Anni makes it big, she’s going to get Ashton so much meds.

I've mentioned before that I feel like Anni came to the Krook House after Ashton's fall. And we know Milo canonically has meds from ep65. And Ashton probably should be on meds to help their chronic pain instead of booze. But as I've pointed out in Double Dose, Ashton needs a larger dose. So this plays with all of that a little bit, plus how the Krook House residents do care for each other, even when they're trying to keep a distance.

[happy-ratta]

YO YO yo hey any more payday headcannons? I see you’re a man of culture… Bain enjoyer…

I got more headcannons for Bain and other!

-Bain likes candy, a lot.

-Bain had a single father

-Bain has three siblings, he's the oldest with twin middle sisters and a younger sister.

-Bile is the youngest sisters kid, making him Bains nephew

-Houston admired Hoxton, and wanted to continue his legacy till he was out of prison.

- The admiration stopped once he met Hoxton

-It took years to pay off Dallas's debt

-Dallas doesn't understand why Houston hates him.

-Chains was the one to recommend Wick get a dog.

- Jimmy thought that he was the last body left, until he got drunk and ungodly high one day and woke up in another Jimmy's body

-He's been looking for 3+ years by now.

- Bain has two cats, he loves them.

- There's two bodyguards that live in Bains safe house

-They were both tortured for information like. Their dead now

- Wolf worries for Houstons mental health.

Less headcannons then last, but I got a shity migraine right now.

[crispy-bonnie]

Hi hi!!! Hopefully requests are open!!

I was wondering if you could write for a platonic!payday gang with an adopted teen!reader??

I was thinking that bain ended up adopting teen!reader and now the gang just coddles them. You can write for whoever for this request!! :DD

- have a nice day/night!!!

yeah no problem ! i'm not too experienced with writing platonic things , let alone teenage/child reader situations , but i can most definitely try !

You're adopted by the Payday gang

The gang literally has no fucking clue what to do with you when they find you in front of the safe house

You were dropped off by Twitch at the safe house and Duke was the one to meet with you first

Litearally has no clue what's going on, and the rest of the crew ends up gathering as well to see what was happening

Dallas eventually got a call from Bain, explaining the entire situation

You were adopted by Bain for reasons unknown, and now you kinda just live there

It takes a bit of time for the gang to warm up to you, but once they do, it's pure fun from then on out

Jiro is like the calm parental figure that teaches you coping mechanisms for things like anxiety, depression, or other issues

He's the first one to notice if something's wrong, and he would be the first one you would go to

Duke is like that really cool relative that can and will blabber on about ancient shit

He'll offer to take you to a museum of your choice on his days off, and if you take a real interest in something you see, then he'll probably steal it during a heist just to make you happpy

Sydney, Joy, and Wolf are basically your chaotic family

Joy will teach you the ropes on tech and hacking, Sydney would let you go ham on designing masks, and Wolf would help you try to make your own contraption in his workshop

These situations typically get you and the gang in some trouble [Making a mess with paint, making the most dangerous fucking contraption in humanity, accidentally hacking into some really dangerous/important database, etc]

That's where Aldsotne, Dallas, and Hoxton come in

They're like the calm and tired parents of the gang like oml give them a fucking break

If chaos ensues and it involves you, Dallas will be the first one to hear about it and immediately try to diffuse the situation

Hoxton would be the one to give you a good scolding about it, and Aldstone would be the one cleaning and teen-proofing the place where it happened

Sokol and Bonnie are the more chill ones and often like to teach you how to play games

Sokol will teach you how to play hockey, and he might even take you to an ice skating rink to teach you how to skate [if you don't know how to that is]

Bonnie would teach you the tricks behind gambling. Obviously she won't use real money when playing with you, but she'll use fake chips to demonstrate the stakes that are put on the table when in such situation

Jacket is like that weird and quiet relative that you are a little uncomfortable with but manage to get along with him after a few hours

He'll let you record your own lines for his tape recorder and might even use them during heists

Jacket also likes to offer to play video games with you, and you often beat him in them. Of course, he doesn't complain or anything because if he did, he knew he'd probably be mauled

Ethan and Hila like to invite you to record videos with them

Whether it be a vlog about daily life, a YouTube challenge, or a talent showoff, they always wanna make sure you feel included

Hell, when they post their vlogs, they'll often brag about how epic you are and make sure that you get a nice amount of attention on social media. If you're okay with it that is

All in all, the Payday gang is a pretty good family considering your whole orphan situation

You honestly wouldn't trade them for a different family

[xxgremlinleexx]

More info on our situation.

This will be posted to the GoFundMe as well.

I feel that it is incredibly important to express just how last resort this is. It has come to my understanding that if people are to come across this, they are likely to believe I haven't exhausted all of my options.

This, unfortunately, isn't the case.

Mississippi has never been safe for us as black, queer people. And having neighbors turned against us for something orchestrated by pur landlord has made it even less so for us to continue being here.

There is absolutely nothing left for us here.

Lemme explain. As of now, both my partner and I are employed. However, our pay and hours are nowhere near enough to cover the cost of rent without outside assistance from friends and family who are all also struggling at this time. This includes our other partner who has their own shit to deal with. I work at Dominos and am paid a flat $9.00/hr as a CSR. I'm only granted NINE (9) hours a week. Yes. You read that correctly. Only 9 hours a week. 18 every two. 36 a month. Which is why I started doing commissions. To make ends meet.

Because Void (our cat) would genuinely have nowhere to go if we didn't make things work somehow. We've had him since he was a kitten, and he would be even more devastated than us.

Friends can't take him. Not anyone nearby. And with the lack of proper shelters, surrendering him would likely spell death.

Just know, while things weren't perfect, they were not always like this. We started falling behind after a technological error on the Apartment's end (More on that later) where two months' worth of rent was never posted. And once we made the error known, it came with fees stacked from both months and then some. In the middle of March. After I'd been dropped from my internship at a super Christian-run food bank. Where I was the only openly queer one there. 🙃

And it's truly only been downhill from there.

My nesting partner is paid slightly more than me at 9.75/hr, but they haven't been given a full 40 hour week since September of last year. This is after asking for all that can be given at their job despite dealing with chronic pain and being immunocompromised. They've been working without any sort of proper accommodation aside from being offered brief breaks in the store's beer cooler.

We've taken out payday loans out of sheer desperation not to lose our home, two of which almost crippled us.

We do not have a car. Mississippi's public transportation system is absolutely abysmal. I used the bus to go to work during my internship. I was left stranded twice and was s3xually harrassed during my rides on several occasions. The system is horrendously underfunded, so the drivers just don't care.

We have tried various programs including section 8. The wait lists are endless.

The property manager has explicitly expressed that they do not accept vouchers from any of the most prevelant housing assistance programs in our area. Which was one of the reasons why we almost weren't allowed to move here (Making a video on that soon.) during a time where we were, in fact, homeless and running out of time at the hotel we were staying at. The only assistance we have is for electric. And that's only because that bill is not processed directly through the complex itself.

I've been permanently flagged by the unemployed office. Why? Because one of my employers (the most transphobic experience I've ever had. More on that later.) claimed that nobody under my legal name, SS, or anything had ever worked there before. Every other experience listed was verified, but due to that one instance, even when I provided my old work badge and my W2, I was (and still am) no longer able to apply for unemployment without being stuck in a neverending wait list for an investigation that will never come. It will remain stuck in pending for months and then the case number will magically close without notice.

We have Food Stamps, but due to the sudden dip in income and hours, MDHS has pretty much flagged that I'm able-bodied but just choosing not to work. Which has resulted in the amount we're given monthly to harshly decrease.

What I'm trying to say is that the truly needy and unfortunate are treated like rats and scammers. Pests. These programs put in place to help us aren't funded enough to make the people tasked with running them truly care. So they turn us away.

This has been a problem in Mississippi for years. The state government is given money to help and distribute as needed, but those funds are withheld. Millions of dollars every year are kept away from the families who need it most, and nobody here can answer why.

And if you're queer or a person of color? Good luck.

I explain all of this to say that we genuinely need help wherever we can get it.

We need to get out of Mississippi.

Please help in any way you can. Spread this and my GoFundMe wherever you can. It is us the link above. Share it wherever, whether you can donate or not.

My commissions are open. All three slots are available. I will gladly work for the money.

Thank you for your reading.

[biframes]

i just finished your most recent fic and i am BLOWN AWAY by your characterization of all the heisters it’s really incredible i am a HUGE fan of how you write them all interacting around the safe house it’s wonderful

Thank you so much! You are so sweet! Your message made me happy!

My partner checked some of my writing for me for grammar and they said "I see why you are worried about not liking Payday 3. You like them all living in a house together". They are right. I like all of the characters being roommates in their big house.