#also maybe John?

[drgnflyteabox]

Fem!reader x 141

Honestly might be able to to something with the gross stuff I saw at the hardware store I used to work at (except make it hot and 141)

Imagine you're a cashier, the only one with early morning availability so you're there at 5:45am for the 6am start. It's always the worst kinds of contractors there: rude, tired, dirty, leering gazes and sexist comments

You're pretty sick of it, but you get paid a bit more than minimum wage and you're done by 11am so, you take it with a cheery smile and fast service

The 141 contracting company starts spending at your store. So much, in fact, that your manager personally takes you aside to mention just how much they do - nearly a million a year - and how no matter what, your job is to be nice and please them

Well, you can do that. You've dealt with crazy, awful old contractors screaming in your face about lumber prices at 6:30am more than once, heard them talking about your tit's or your ass right in front of you - you can handle it

Until the masked one comes in first and hes huge, dark hoodie and cargo pants hanging low on his hips. He hands you 3k in bills only there are bloodstains on them and he watches you closely the whole time you count them out

It's... not a first, but the look he gives you makes you shiver. Pale eyelashes, tall, intimidating

The second is nicer. Too nice, in fact. He charms you before you're even fully awake, and your shift goes by quickly thinking about that winning smile and the way he'd touched your fingers while he handed you a stack of bills... not to mention those soft brown eyes

The third is... intense, for 8am. He rolls on the balls of his feet, stares at you harder than the masked one. He offers to buy you a hot chocolate at the coffee shop next door and grins like you made a joke when you decline

Their boss is fucking dreamy. Even you have to admit it, trying not to look up at his mustached, frankly porno-esque face. He's huge, as tall as the others but thick, with a little pudge around his belly. He trudges in with thick workboots and a stained t shirt, pays for 24k worth of material with a lazy smile on his face like it's nothing

You might ask head cash to move you to the garden center after all...

[itsdefinitely]

i've noticed a pattern

[wasttelland]

[blondie-drawings]

Good lord this tomb is full of shitposts 😳😳 pt 1/pt 2

[reds-skull]

My mom named one of the street cats she feeds Tommy, so I thought to myself, "what if..."

[zivazivc]

Like a completely normal adult person, after watching the new trolls movie, I obsessively started putting together the brothers' backstory, the deeper reasons for their separation as well as how that all took place without disregarding the fact that they were trapped in the troll tree, which of course evolved into a fic in (forever) progress... yeah

Anyway, even though they aren't actively in the story much, i needed to design the parents, so uh meet Rosiepuff's daughter, Tulip, and her husband Branch.

I designed them based on the brothers' adult looks and in Tulip's case also on her mom's.

bonus baby branch:

[potato-lord-but-not]

someone asked how the boyfriends would be with Faroe after Kayne brings her back, and sorry for being a downer but I’m on the “Arthur doesn’t get Faroe back” hill so I initially wasn’t gonna ponder about it.

And then I started pondering. weeks later. and decided I can indulge just this once because tbh I need more adorable Faroe in my life (we all do). I indulged a little too much tho and decided to make an actual post instead of answering the ask so HERE WE ARE

[hai-nae]

if you want love, you're gonna have to go through the pain,

if you want love, you're gonna have to learn how to change,

if you want trust, you're gonna have to give some away.

[lauraisakilljoy]

“we need more complex characters!!” if Lost were released today all of the characters would be cancelled immediately

[ghouljams]

something something soap gets off on you getting fucked by guys with smaller dicks, you meet ghost in a bar and he manages to convince you that despite being 6'4" he's one of those unlucky few so you'll bring him home and he can humiliate your boyfriend. is that anything?

[gomzdrawfr]

Merry Christmas!! they're exchanging gifts by the tree :3

[drgnflyteabox]

a little continuation of this. john price x cashier fem!reader. verbal abuse, anxiety, yelling, hurt/comfort, price comes to your retail rescue<3<3 1.4k words

The only good part of a 5am wakeup is watching the sunrise slowly climb the sky.

There’s a quiet sort of tiredness that lets you appreciate it more — and though the lot associates have made a joke about the morning crew and their sunrise photos, there’s an element of truth there that’s both funny and a little beautiful.

It’s a drag to wait outside the doors for a manager to open them, trying not to make eye contact with the early-bird oldies and the impatient contractors who think they should just be allowed in before everyone else based on the amount of money they spend.

When the doors open and the 6am hardware warriors stroll in, ready and chipper, you’re half asleep leaning against your counter.

Another good thing about the early shift is the lack of uptight managers. None of them want to wake up before ten, so you’re safe to lean and lounge while waiting for customers.

A call comes through your earpiece after a few customers, nearing the cusp of 8am.

”Hey, we’ve got the guy coming your way,” your head cash – Lisa – says, voice crackling in the mic. The guy is a rude jerkoff, some contractor who thinks abusing staff is the way to get good service and better prices.

What’s worse is that your managers allow it. In fact, you get warnings like this all the time. The guy is here, the guy has a big order, make sure to cash him out fast or he’ll start shouting. Be pleasant. Smile.

The guy is walking down the store lumber aisle with a pinched expression on his face and two other employees dragging his stacked carts behind him.

You try to ignore his caustic vibes, thinking instead of the pink, purplish sunrise you’d seen earlier. Clouds like magic, cotton candy, floating above you 

You ignore the incessant tapping of his feet, the annoyed groan he makes when you lift a package of insulation up and find flat saw blades.

Sure, you can’t accuse him of stealing. But you can make a cheery, passive aggressive comment–

“Oops, I guess you forgot these!” you chirp, scanning them a little slower than necessary. It’s not mature, but it does make you feel a little better. Nice try, bozo.

Playing the idiot cashier helps with these types. Why are you mad, sir? I’m just a cashier? And though you could answer more questions than you do, you don’t. Playing the ditz makes life easy.

Lisa’s definitely judged you for it, but hey. She’s not stuck at the register like you are.

Sometimes, it works. You get a scowl, but they’ll go quiet. Sometimes.

Today, it backfires.

“Excuse me?” 

Oh here we go, you think. It’s way too early for this.

“What was that, sir?” you play dumb, voice squeaking.

“Are you accusing me of stealing?” his volume raises. You see redness crawling up his neck. Fuck.

“No, no, I only meant–” you try to backtrack. Fuck, fuck. This is the result of your hubris. Your reasoning flies out through the massive lumber area doors as his rage climbs.

“No? No? Because I think you just accused me of stealing. Do you understand how much I spend here, you moron?”

“I do, I didn’t mean to imply–”

“Get me a fucking manager, now,” he snaps. God, you have no clue if he acts like this to get his way, to get discounts, or if he’s really this angry half the time he comes in.

Regardless, the effect is real. You’ve never been good with anger, and you’re shaking a little as you press the call button on your pager.

“C-Can I please have a manager down to lumber cash?” you broadcast to the store.

All you can think of is looking away from his angry gaze while you wait. Oh, a bubble bath – you have an aloe and green tea bubble bath packet at home waiting for you.

Hot water. Bubble bath. Manager to fix this mess. Maybe a hot chocolate after work?

A couple minutes pass. Longest minutes of your life.

No answer. The guy taps his foot, sighing loudly, angrily. You try again.

“Can I please have a manager down to lumber cash?”

Oh fuck, is that someone else in line? You turn away bodily, speaking again into your mic. Trying to look like you’re doing something about the wait.

Another couple minutes. Despair washes over you like a cold blanket of snow.

“Need a manager at lumber cash,” you try.

Typical, really. Lisa is likely on break, and you have no idea who’s managing the store at the moment.

You imagine it’s likely Cody, who’s good with contractors like this because he's personable but he’s also lazy it almost cancels out. Also, he takes a smoke break every 5 minutes.

And never takes his pager.

“What the fuck is taking so long?” you hear behind you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, turning. “My manager is busy at the moment but–”

“Busy?” his voice is like a gunshot in the airy space, an absurd volume for the time.

“Yes–”

“Do you know–”

A third voice cuts in.

“Think you better learn a little patience, mate,” British?

Oh, shit. It’s that guy from before. He’s got one hip a little cocked, a frown on his face like he’s smelled something bad. His boonie hat is titled down, nearly covering his eyes. You can see them because you’re shorter than he is.

“Excuse me? And who are you? Mind your business,” the guy says.

“I think you’d better let the nice girl check me out while you wait,” he motions for you towards the parallel cash desk, and you’re grateful to just follow.

You scurry away from the guy faster than is appropriate, calling out again as you cross the open space towards the other cash desk for a manager.

You can only hope they arrive while you’re helping this one. John Price, you think his name was. He's a memorable man. Him and his moustache and his expensive company.

John Price has left the guy flabbergasted. He also has twice as many carts as him, and when your eyes widen to see them he just says take your time in a smooth, deep voice.

Oh man.

You do take your time, already calmer for John’s presence. Strange maybe to feel safe in the company of a stranger, a contractor no less, but it’s a nice change of pace.

Beep, beep. You scan methodically. John has no hidden items, and he doesn’t pressure you. He leans up against his lumber order and watches you check underneath things, under the cart, doing everything you’re trained to do.

“Start early?” he asks.

“Hm?” you lift your head. “Oh, yes. 6am.”

He whistles.

“Hard worker, I see,” he helps you lift a heavy bag of concrete.

“Thank you,” Marx look away, you think. Your face is only a little hot.

Cody strolls in the lumber doors missing his apron and – you guessed it – his pager. You fix him with a look as he smiles in greeting.

“Need a manager when you’re free,” you rush. Cody is nice, but you’re kinda miffed now.

“Oh, sure,” he says, walking by you toward the breakroom.

John Price raises a brow.

“Not everyone’s up to the task, eh?”

You feel hot again.

“It’s just early.”

John smiles. He looks remarkably silly doing it, you think. His facial hair makes him look approachable, cuddly. Like a teddy bear.

John’s order totals double the guy, which isn’t really a victory for you but it feels like one. Ha! See, you aren’t the richest guy here. You feel vindicated. Cody looks miserable cashing him out, which makes you just a little guilty.

“Will that be cash or card?” you ask, finger hovering on the POS.

He pays with card. You certainly do not notice how he cradles the machine. You aren’t that down bad.

Only you are, and his fingers are huge. His knuckles are hairy.

When you go to hand him the receipts, printed twice for record keeping, he manages to slip a 50 into your hand before you notice.

“Oh, no! I’m not allowed to–”

He folds those big bear paws over your hand, enclosing the cash in it with a sh sh sh as you protest.

“For the trouble,” he winks.

“You didn’t give me any trouble,” you try. The warmth of his palm, the roughness of his calluses. You’re a goner.

He chuckles, and you wonder how he can be both so intense and so disarming.

“You know what I mean, sweetheart,” he squeezes your hand, pushing it gently back towards you until you can put it in your apron pocket.

“Thank you,” you squeeze out.

“Don’t let him get to you,” he says.

“I’ll try,” you thank God or the universe or whoever that Cody and the guy finished a while ago.

“Attagirl.”

Yeah, you’re a goner.

[mikonez]

Joe Bowler jarthur redraw be upon ye!!! based on this!

some other versions because i literally cannot make a decision

[abstractfrog]

that doesn't sound right but i don't know enough about receiving valentines to dispute it

[ashes-in-a-jar]

No but did the Archivist literally stop for a snack on the way to its most important quarry??

Like, we did learn from Jon that if the Archivist gets too deep into the role they lose themselves and their ability to resist any statement in their vicinity but gurl you have way bigger fish to fry right now and that's just a poor custodian who kept his head down and just wanted to do his job that you concrete-ified because the train ride here made you peckish ffs

[karlachismylife]

Spotted || The Queen of the Clan pt.1

I absolutely do think about werewolf/dog shapeshifter Johnny every day, because I am a weak little gorilla and want to cuddle a big doggo, but

What if Soap as a hyena shapeshifter. Cuz their manes look like mohawks and he can keep his precious fluffy hairstyle. He's trotting around with his spots and long black socks on those strong legs, round ears twitching when he hears someone - prey, perhaps? But prey doesn't sound so pretty and cute, doesn't laugh and chirp so sweetly. So he keeps his tail high and hurries to the sound source, to find reader there chatting with other people - all with photocameras and other familiar equipment. You're neither prey, nor threat: just a documentary crew here, probably mainly for the lions.

You spot him immediately, his wary stance catching everyone's attention.

"The tail up so high can mean different things, but it might be a sign of agression. Careful, everybody," one of the specialists warns you, and you nod - you're not stupid, that's clear, but the smile you have on your face is so blissfully ecstatic, almost as if every thought left your brain at the sight of a chonky, bulky hyena investigating your filming sight (to be fair, it's probably his everything else sight). But you're just happy to see your first big animal on this trip, and so close!

"Hi, beautiful," you coo softly, brely a whisper, as you pull your camera up and start taking pictures of him - it takes the hyena only a few moments before it suddenly changes his stance to a more imposing one, puffing out its chest, legs wide apart, mane fuffed up. "Aw, are you posing for me, pretty boy? That's right, you're gonna be a star. I can already picture everyone going crazy for these cute pics..."

You tear your eyes away from him to take a look at what you're getting, not sure if the exposition and other settings are right, but when you adjust them and look back up to try and take another picture, the hyena isn't there. You almost let out a disappointed sigh, when you realize that no one of the crew is moving and their eyes are all glued to you - and then something big, fluffy and warm bumps your hip.

"Oh god," you try not to get startled by the hyena so close. It's even bigger that it seemed from afar, probably will be as tall as you if it stands up on its hind legs. Actually, it might be a girl - those tend to be bigger among spotted hyenas, after all. A formiddable force of nature, a deadly predator - not to be fooled by the public perception.

And it's sniffing at you very loudly, fluttering its round ears and bumping your hip again, like a needy cat with its huge wet eyes, before you finally lower your camera - and it shoves its muzzle into the little screen immediately!

"What, you like these? Give me permission to make you famous?" you chuckle when the hyena lets out somewhat of an approving whine. It bumps its head against your palm, but, glancing at your crew, you decide to withhold from petting the wild animal, after all.

The hyena doesn't look pleased with it. It whines again, paws at you, and then huffs, clearly irritated. Leaving you alone and shaking its head to fluff up its mane again, it sniffs around, trotting around your temporary camp, and heads straight to your backpack - your food inside, sleeping bag rolled neatly and resting against its side. While you try to remember if you have anything there that could cause danger to the curious animal, the hyena sniffs around it, making sure it's definitely yours, and then...

"No, no-no-no, please, don't-" it's too late. Turning around with the smuggest smirk you ever saw on an animal's face, the hyena lines up and sprayes your stuff generously. The smell of boiling cheap soap and something else hits you almost immediately on that short distance. No amount of washing will save you. You stand there, absolutely speechless and bemused, as the hyena bursts out into loud cackling, almost rolling on the ground and the sight of you.

And then a response cuts through the air - one, two, three other voices, interrupting that little spotted shit's fit. It immediately stops giggling, casts you one last look with a grin and then bolts away, to its family pack.

What a start to your filming trip. You'll just have to hope that hyena doesn't bring all its friends to your camp to cause chaos...

Another important thing about spotted hyenas? Their packs are matriarchal :)

Part 1.5 | Part 2

Series masterlist | Main masterlist