#but job training gives you more dollars maybe

[novelistparty]

dimensional analysis is one my most-used skills and I learned it in chemistry class when I was 15

[carcarrot]

i guess im being offered the job lol

[freakoont]

Hi!!!! Pretty pretty please, could you write a ranpo x reader where reader usually takes care of him because they have a soft spot for him, but ranpo takes them for granted somehow, and they get frustruated and angry. Maybe a little angsty and fluff as well. Im so happy to discover your blog, i really like the way you write for bsd! Sorry for my english, i’m not a native

❝𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭, 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲!?❞

︵‿︵‿୨🍪୧‿︵‿���

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐨 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐠𝐬

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐩𝐨 𝐄𝐝𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐩𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.. 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐥𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 ... 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 // 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭

【ＳＦＷ】

GENDER NEUTRAL BUT AFAB READER sorry :')

REQUESTS ARE OPEN ! Check my request page for info !

︵‿︵‿୨🍪୧‿︵‿︵

It's easy to say that Ranpo doesn't exactly have manners, and is easily persuaded by his own thoughts and often doesn't think before he speaks when he isn't on the job.

Often, he'll make people feel very dumb. That doesn't change for people he's close with, cough. You.

It's been a good few months since you had joined the Agency, being assigned as Ranpo's lucky assistant. Actually, no, now that you remember it more clearly, you were never assigned this role... It just so happened that during you're early days when you were still a lost noobie, Ranpo.. 'found' you, but not exactly in a positive or negative way.

When it was only you and Ranpo in the building, when everyone had gone to do their own thing, he was whining about being so hungry he'd die! Talk about childish.. and yet, after a while it grew on you.

You offered to go to the nearest convenient store and see if you could find anything, which you did, and after that Ranpo would use your more and more often to retrieve stuff for him, that the title 'Ranpo's lucky assistant' grew on you.

Ranpo didn't seem to care, actually, eventually he'd start to have you help him with cases... And by 'help' it just means you'd buy his train tickets. Basically you were treated like a guinea pig in some ways, even having to give the man piggy back rides when he felt tired.

╰┈➤ ❝Would you call this luck?❞

Actually, it isn't all that bad. Ranpo would always look so happy whenever you walked in the room. Word has it, whenever you weren't around, his head would perk up like a dog on alert at the sound of your name being spoken and he'd always feel so gloomy saying, 'man, I wish (Y/N) was here.' Although, that's probably just Yosano trying to mess with you.

Not to mention he'd always love to eat with you, seeming so glad as he'd get into your space and ask that you 'so kindly feed him like a good assistant' ignoring all the stacks of papers you have to finish.

Some part of you wants to say that he just has a sweet yet naive heart when he's not actually using his brain... And yet...

︵‿︵‿୨🍪୧‿︵‿︵

"pfft, don't be stupid. I don't need your little gift," he spoke while pushing your hand away.

For the past few days, you had found yourself growing a different perspective around him.. did you truly like this guy?

Earlier that day, as had been you passing through many stores, there was something in particular that caught your attention. You were a firm believer in luck and gratitude, always wanted it for yourself and others. When you saw basically some five dollar bracelets, there was one in particular that caught your attention.

A small bracelet, a very colorful one, that had little snack charms. It was pretty. It reminded you a lot of Ranpo.

"you don't need to wear it, I was just hoping-"

"you were hoping to give me a little good luck charm." He'd speak up over you with a tone voice that didn't seem completely annoyed but more like he was mocking you. He'd continue to place another chip into his mouth before continuing, "I don't need it. I'm the world's greatest detective after all."

"..i see." You spoke with a feeling of disappointment. "I'll just throw it away then."

Ranpo didn't seem to bat an eye about it as soon as you had left his line of sight that following day.

︵‿︵‿୨🍪୧‿︵‿︵

A few days followed and you didn't exactly forget that little item, actually it's disappointing you chose to throw away such a pretty gadget. Slowly the sun hit the inside of your room and you felt this pinging in your head. A strong annoyance, a headache.

Some part of you felt like this headache had to do with how you've been seeing Ranpo lately. One question that's been stuck in your mind, do you seriously regret meeting him? No, that'd be too much to say... But he can be annoying to deal with.

There were even moments where you'd have to step in because he pissed off the wrong person, stopping people from getting their fist in his face... It was always you taking a few verbal hits for him, huh? And he never seemed to mind, always doing it again and again no matter how much you've told him it's wrong.

Maybe you're wrong about your friendship with him.

︵‿︵‿୨🍪୧‿︵‿︵

"yo, I'm here." You spoke up while entering the Agency, that strong pinging in your head again. You looked around only to see Ranpo. "Where is everybody?"

"Dazai is skipping, Yosano is in her infirmary, and the rest of them are all on their own errands and cases." Ranpo spoke as he played on his little game console. He perked up at you with a smug grin, "Soo, let me guess. Today's snacks are.."

"actually I don't have anything."

"HUH? WHY?" He immediately jumped in his seat staring at you almost distressed. "I'll die without food y'know!"

"..if you're so hungry then go get yourself something."

"Nonsense!" He laughed out, mocking you in a way. "Last I recall your my lucky assistant, and you promised to get me food every morning."

"I didn't promise you anything, Edogawa."

Ranpo had noticed a sharp tone in your voice, you seemed oddly annoyed, which was different. He then grinned towards you, "Oh I see! Is this about your little gift to-"

".. you're such a pain, Edogawa!" You spoke up which made the man flinch. You definitely noticed that, you've caught him off guard. "Not once have you ever gratitude for what I've done? I know it's not much and maybe I'm being dramatic.. but it'd be nice to get a thank you every and now then? All it feels like is that you look down on me."

"..I'm sorry."

That's all he said which didn't make you an happier. Thats all he can say? Is he serious?

"I'm leaving. I have a bad headache and I don't want to deal with this, let Kunikida know I'm off." You turned on your heels to leave.

"Wait hold up-!" Ranpo immediately followed and grabbed your shoulder. "I said I was sorry!" After he didn't heard you respond and just ignore him, yet waited in your steps to hear if he had anything else to say, he pulled out the bracelet from his pocket. "..the reason I said I didn't need your good luck charm, was because my lucky assistant is what brings me luck."

"..."

"..and thanks."

[dstryvampres]

Lab Assistant

MINORS/AGELESS BLOG DNI !

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Warnings: smut LOL, dub con, pnv, unprotected sex, use of fear toxin on some dude, he smacks your ass like once

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: this is my first time writing just pure smut, sorry if the set up is super long.

For the past week your heater had been broken, and despite multiple calls to your landlord which always ended up with the promise that he would come over to fix it eventually, you were still freezing. Though you could escape the biting cold throughout the day by taking up a second home at your university, you always had to eventually come back to your shitty studio apartment and suffer through the night. You’re excess time spent on campus was well spent, studying in the library, napping under stairwells or in-between shelves in the library, stirring around coffee you didn’t even like but knew you have to drink to stay in the cafe, or staring longingly at your psychology professor Dr. Crane. The lack of any privacy throughout your day had started to get annoying after the first three days, not helped by the fact that because you saw Dr Crane more than you usually do, leading to you feeling more high strung. Gotham was not treating you kindly.

“Excuse me,” a voice called out quite loudly above you, forcing you out of your final exam induced coma. You gritted your teeth, knowing that you were likely overstaying your visit to the campus library, especially since you had just finished your last exam of the season, who knows how many hours ago.

Looking up you were met with the face of your favourite professor, Dr Crane. Another horrible coincidence, it was embarrassing for someone so put together and professional to find you so vulnerable, especially someone who you had in mind when your hand was shoved down your pants most nights. 

“The library is closing soon, I would recommend getting your stuff and heading out,” Dr Crane says, his voice oddly empathetic. A jarring contrast to the usual mix of hostility and boredom his voice held during lectures. He sighs and takes off his glasses, pinching his eyebrows together, seeming conflicted over what he wants to say next, so instead you fill the space with your own voice.

“Of course, I’m so sorry sir. I seemed to lose track of time, and was too exhausted to walk home. Again, I am so sorry. I should have set a timer or just maybe not sleep in the library, that was so-“

“You have been spending a weird amount of time on campus for the past week,” Dr Crane interjects, giving you a once over. “Is everything okay at home?”

The question was so genuine it made your brain short circuit. Why would he even care about you?

“Not really,” you laughed, the two words coming out of your mouth before you had time to think. A habit only recently picked up due to sleepless nights.

A smile crept over your professor's face, one that didn’t seem to reach the rest of his face. You couldn’t tell if it was from the shock of your honesty or something more sinister. He sat down in front of you, scratching his nose, letting a silence stretch out. Just long enough for pricks of discomfort to stir.

“Well, I’m running a program here at the university over the winter break. Just need an assistant to help me over at Arkham for an experiment I’m conducting. The job would include housing closer to Arkham, since it’s a little out of the city, and it pays about a dollar over the minimum wage. If you’re interested,” he slides a business card over the table, smile now dropped, “just email me in the next 48 hours.”

Taking the card eagerly between your fingers, mumbling a small ‘thank you’ under your breath before pocketing it. When you look up he’s already halfway gone. Packing up your things as fast as you can, you leave the library and hop on the train back to your shitty apartment. An email is sent to Dr Crane that night, and the following day you are confirmed as his assistant for this experiment the next day.

𝜗𝜚

The space provided for your three week stay was slightly better than your studio apartment, mostly because it had heating, but also because you shared a wall with Dr Crane. Besides the housing, the internship also came with an average pay, some work experience, and enough credits to compensate for one class. Your first week there had mostly been mundane tasks, taking notes outside of interrogation rooms while Dr Crane interviewed patients, making coffee for the two of you, making patient profiles, and making sure no one took any of Dr Crane’s “special medicine” for the experiment. Despite the easy work and the decent benefits, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something more sinister that Dr Crane wasn’t telling you about the experiment. With a thesis based around the concept of fears, you had yet to notice any great dive into the topic beside a few one-off questions.

“Before we start this week,” Dr Crane starts, sitting down in the chair opposite to you, “I want to just warn you that this is when the experiment starts to become a little more intense.”

He holds a coffee mug in his hand, as he talks the liquid sloshes around the cup. It's all information you already know, you signed an NDA, he trusts you, do what he says, and that he needs you to stay out of the room no matter what. Last week you learned just how Dr Crane enjoys his coffee, no milk and one sugar, you can’t understand how he can drink it. One sugar can’t mask the bitter taste. He drinks it quickly though, remembering the taste makes you gag.

“Before we begin today, can you prepare the variable today in syringes? I will be introducing it into the experimental group today.”

He sets down the now empty mug, a loud thump echoes through the room, startling you. Dr Crane smiles at your reaction, it’s the same one he always gives you, the one that doesn’t reach the rest of his face. You ignore the stone that has formed inside your stomach, picking up your clipboard and pen.

“I’ll meet you in room 283B,” your professor puts a hand on the small of your back, leading you both out of his office. A shock is sent through your body at the contact, once out of the room you turn to look at him, but his hand is gone and he’s headed in the opposite direction as you.

Something else that you have noticed throughout this week is just how close Dr Crane is now. He’s more touchy than you would pinpoint him as. Which isn’t saying much, but the small lingering touches he lays on you, a hand on your shoulder, maybe on the small of your back, doesn’t seem to be too professional. One… two… three millilitres of solution per syringe. The questions he asks also seem to be a little weird, especially due to the matter of the study. A common thread being his prying into your fears, and a look of hunger when he asks the questions. Soft thud of the storage container hitting the ‘chemical waste’ bin. Though you can’t really complain, this past week has given you enough content for your late nights to satisfy you for your whole university career, Masters program included. Laying out each of the syringes in a row on the tray, and counting them out. Three syringes on the top tray, six needles on the lower tray. Rolling the tray out of the room and over to the elevator to head up to the second floor.

You softly knock on the door, waiting for Dr Crane to open up the door to the observer section. The door opens in a matter of seconds, only a crack for a couple more seconds, before it is completely opened. 

“Thank you,” Dr Crane says, looking down at the tray of syringes. He takes one in his gloved hand, holds it up to the light and nods, a stamp of approval given to your handiwork. “Remember: that if anything goes wrong, do not enter the room, just call security, and take as detailed notes as possible on the patient’s behaviour and the levels on the monitor.”

You nod, taking a look at the monitor set up beside the one-way glass, all vitals seem to be steady at the moment. The door to the room holding the patient opens up and shuts quickly, Dr Crane slipping in and greeting the patient, thanking him for his time. The patient seems to be a middle aged man, scars run across his arms, roughed up from whatever he did before his time in Arkham, he’s bald and seems to be displeased with his situation. Still, when Dr Crane comes to insert the syringe into his arm he stays still and takes it. The opaque liquid disappears as Dr Crane pushes down on the syringe, removing it once all the liquid has entered into the man’s system. A ‘thank you’ is expressed by Dr Crane before he exits the room, syringe in hand. Once the door is locked, Crane disposes of the syringe in the toxic waste bin in the observer’s room.

“The solution will take about five minutes to kick in,” he says, looking at you and it’s now that you realise just how excited he seems to be. 

The heart rate on the monitor starts to speed up, taking your attention away from Crane, and noting it down.

“Are you sure you estimated the time correctly?” You ask hesitantly, not wanting to offend your professor.

“I did. No worries. Injections can do this to people.”

The next five minutes pass by slowly, Dr Crane behind your chair, his breath tickling your ear. It’s almost impossible to focus like this, you just want to do something about the growing wet spot in your pants. Screaming immediately breaks through the tension you were feeling, you look at the patient. His eyes are wide, his pupils expanded, and his heart rate reaches around 140 bpm. Alarm sets into your own heart, you didn’t expect this big of a reaction from the patient. Dr Crane nudges your shoulder, reminding you to start writing your observations.

11:06: patient’s heart rate reaches 140 bpm

11:07: patient starts uncontrollably screaming at seemingly nothing

Your continued scribbling of notes doesn’t seem to discourage Dr Crane from talking.

“I didn’t know it would be this effective. I’ve been waiting years for this to be approved and this is better than I could’ve ever expected.”

Nausea settled from the mix of pleading for mercy and screaming from the patient, and Dr Crane’s glee from his reactions. Unsure how you could continue on with doing this almost every single day for the two weeks. Writing soon became sloppy due to your own lightheadedness and nausea, every moment you begged someone to make this stop. It was too much. It stretched on for over fifteen minutes before the patient finally came back from whatever drug induced hallucination he was forced into, yet he was still crying. Wanting to distance yourself so far from this experiment, you place the clipboard down.

“Wonderful isn’t it?” Dr Crane asked you, placing a hand on your shoulder. Whatever response you thought you could muster was stuck in your throat, so instead you nodded. “I call it my ‘fear toxin.’”

Once his hand left your shoulder, you immediately stood up, head spinning so much that you stumbled right into Dr Crane.

“Are you okay? Did the ‘fear toxin’ effects startle you?” He asks, putting his hands on your shoulder to stabilise you, his voice bridges between mocking and actually concerned.

“I just need to go to the bathroom,” You squeeze out, stumbling into the hallway and waving goodbye.

Stumbling around, unable to find the bathroom, you slide down the wall of an empty hallway. Sitting on the floor and curling up into the fetal position. Nausea slipping out of you slowly, eyes closed, just wanting to forget about the whole experience. What substance could even make a man react so horribly? Why would anyone make that in the first place? What purpose could a substance like that even serve? How will this even help-

“There you are,” a voice comes from above you, Dr Crane. You open one eye up, becoming flustered at your unprofessionalism, and enraged at the sight of your cruel professor.

He kneels to your height, offering you his soulless smile. “I’m sorry if that startled you, but I thought you would be better than them. I thought you could fully see my vision, look past the gruesome bits and understand what I’m trying to do here.”

His words both enrage you even further and make you feel even more embarrassed. He created a horrible substance, tested out on a man that, from what you know, didn’t deserve it, and essentially tortured him. On the other hand, this is a man who you have dreamed about and only want to please. For the past three years, you have sat in his class and dreamed about only him. For him to think that only you could understand his plans and dreams, is a flattery you could only dream of.

“Maybe I just didn’t prepare you well enough for this. Can I make it up to you?” Dr Crane asks, offering his hand to you. It takes a couple seconds, but you take it and he leads you upwards. 

His hand is oddly cold, his grip on your own hand is firm, but not harsh. His skin is smooth. It’s embarrassing that he has to lead you out of this room, has to coax you to continue.

“Let’s go to my office, hm?” Quirking an eyebrow, but not waiting for a response he led you down the hallway.

Everything seemed to blur together for you, the trip to the elevator, down the elevator, and into his office. He clicks the door shut, locking it, then turns to you. Stepping forward until he’s cornered you onto his desk.

“You think I don’t hear you at night. Calling my name. The walls in that place are very thin,” Dr Crane whispers into your ear, his hand slithering up your thigh.

A gasp escapes your lips, both at the hand now dangerously close to the warmth growing in your pants, and also because you didn’t think he would be able to hear your late night pleasure sessions. Soon he’s cupping your sex and you moan into his ear softly, earning a hum from him. Finger wander up from your sex to cup your chin, he brings you into a kiss. It’s bruising and hungry, he’s biting at your lower lip and you swear you can taste your own blood. His fingers make quick work unbuttoning your pants, sliding them down your legs until they drop to pool around your ankle.

“You're so wet already, how interesting,” He teases, tracing a finger over your clothed slit. Moaning in response you chase after his lips, but he pulls away. 

Your underwear is pushed over to the side, and his middle and ring finger breach your entrance. A loud ‘oh’ comes from your mouth, crane presses his lips to yours again to silence you. His fingers move slowly in and out of you, he catches each moan you let out with his mouth. His lips are soft, but the kiss is rough, his fingers speed up. They stretch you out so nicely it stings a little bit. It’s been so long since someone else has pleasured you, at all.

His fingers pulled out of your sex slowly, deliberately. A painstaking motion that left you close to pleasureless as he pulled out of your kiss. Quickly flipping you around and pressing you into his desk, the shock between his warm body behind you and the cold desk pressed against your front sent you spiralling. There was shuffling behind you, before you felt him lineup his cock with your cunt.

“Beg for it.” 

Your mouth opens and you spew out a string of ‘please’s and ‘need it’ that seem to satisfy him enough for him to push inside of you. He’s girthier than you expected, but not as long as you expected, which is fine for you. The stretch makes you ache and he won’t be bruising your cervix. Without giving you a moment to adjust he starts to move in and out of you.

“You have to be quiet, okay?” He says, before picking up his speed.

He sets up a consistent speed, hitting a spot inside of you that makes you grip the edge of the desk so intensely that your knuckles are turning white. The desk creaks as he moves in and out of your cunt, his breathing speeds up, one hand twists into your hair pulling your head back and you can’t tell if it’s to ground himself or as a reminder for you not to be too loud. Another hand comes to smack your ass, it's a swift hit, but it makes your knees buckle. 

“You're so much better than I thought you would be,” Dr Crane strains out between grunts.

He presses his front to your back, the hand in your hair softening its grip but not leaving. His breath tickles the back of your ear, the grunting coming from him makes you bite your lip to suppress your moans so hard there will be an indent left there tomorrow.

“Dr Crane, can I cum? Please, I’ve been so good, please let me cum,” you babble, the side of your face pressed into his desk making your words slur a little bit.

“Cum for me,” he says, moving the hand not tangled in your hair to your clit. Pressing small circles into your clit, he starts to speed up. 

Soon the pressure in your stomach releases and it goes black for a couple seconds. You feel Dr Crane’s hand press into your mouth to silence you as your legs buckle. Once you’re conscious again, he has already pulled out of you and you can hear him zip up his pants. You stand on your shaking legs and follow suit, trying to press your hair down into a more professional shape.

“I would recommend you get cleaned up,” Dr Crane says, giving you a smile, “Was that enough motivation to continue aiding me in my experiment?” “Uh- Yes,” you answer, not fully aware of what you were even saying, too embarrassed and lightheaded to even compute anything he was saying besides ‘getting cleaned up.’

“Perfect. After you get cleaned up, please meet me in room 256B. We can meet again here tomorrow during our lunch break if you continue to need the motivation provided,” He pats you on the shoulder, and leaves you in the room alone.

[octuscle]

My family is very rich, but my father's recently gotten into some legal trouble and our accounts are frozen until that's sorted out, which surely won't be too long. Until then I've had to move in with our landscaper and his son. Carlos is so infuriating! He's an uneducated and tatted up thug with horribly ghetto fashion sense who spends all his time lifting weights or getting into trouble on the streets. He's very hard to live with, but maybe I'll end up being a good influence and rub off on him while I'm stuck here?

It's not easy at the beginning. Carlos is such a lazy good-for-nothing. You tell him about the start-ups you've just founded or the ones you wanted to invest in. He doesn't seem to listen to you at all. He's playing with his cell phone, pumping his biceps with dumbbells. He usually doesn't say a word. To improve your influence on him, you accompany him to the gym. It's amazing. Even though he is usually sluggish, he is focused and disciplined here. Of course, the gym is nothing like the health club where you used to train. But there's nothing wrong with staying in shape. So you sign up. If you tidy up in the evening, mop the floor and clean the toilets, you can even train for free and get a few extra dollars. That's great, especially as it gives you more time to exert your good influence on Carlos.

Somehow Carlos is getting more and more careless. The more time you spend at the gym, the less he shows up. You and your bros at the gym think it's all very stuffy. He also wears less cool clothes. He asks if he can wear some of the shirts you've managed to save. No problem for you, you usually wear his old gym clothes anyway. It's not worth changing your clothes either. Either you're at the gym or you're hanging out with your gym buddies. One of them took you to the tattoo artist the other day. You look hot with that tattoo on your chest. But tattoos are really expensive! One of your bros organizes a job for you as a meat cutter at the slaughterhouse. That's great, then you can work there early in the morning, then have a nap, go to the gym, tidy up and clean and go straight back to the slaughterhouse. It's pretty exhausting. But you have your bros around you the whole time. Only Carlos, the philistine, you hardly ever see. Sometimes, when you do train together again, he asks you a few questions about the startup shit. Dude, you'd better deal with that when you're back in your penthouse. Shit, it's going to be a sick party with your bros and the other guys from the slaughterhouse. But you're happy to help Carlos. The little prick doesn't seem to get anything else together. His parents hardly ever get to see him either.

Carlos moves out of his parents' house. Apparently, the second round of financing has raised 200 million dollars. For some fucking fitness plan app. Shit, you used to have a similar idea. How could Carlos the little prick steal it from you? And how did he even know how to create a pitch deck and raise a financing round? And now it's only just come out that this is his second startup. He implemented the first idea and had a modest exit. But at least he was successful enough to buy your old penthouse at a foreclosure auction. His parents say that you shouldn't be sad. You would be like a son to them. And of course you can stay with them in Carlos' room.

Carlos is cool. On the cover of every business and digitization magazine. The rising star in the startup sky. Somewhere you read shit like "Ingenious combination of big data, big business and big muscles". Supposedly he also bought your family's house on Long Island. Fuck that. He gave you that cool necklace for your birthday. And a voucher for the tattoo artist. You got a tattoo of raw meat. To mark you as a stallion from the slaughterhouses. This is your home. And your destiny.

[idontknowwhatimdoinglol]

100 followers special! Ty all so much <3

Yandere ceo hera x reader (headcanons)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

you worked as an assistant to hera, you had gotten the job after a friend of yours was fired claiming that hera was a live version of devil wears prada. but you needed a job so you had applied anyway.

on your first day it was as you expected, hera hardly payed attention to you instead pawning you off on other workers to train you on what to do. as weeks went on though and you proved to be useful and a good worker hera began to talk to you more, it wasn't much just simple things or small complements if you did a good job which was rare from her.

even though she hardly payed attention to you when you weren't in her presence you couldn't help but notice her stares from across the room or through the glass walls of her office when she saw you talking to another worker at olympus co. especially if it was one of zeus's children that wasn't her own.

the longer you worked there the less people talked to you and the more hera talked to you. you noticed a few glances from others but they quickly looked away as soon as hera would go near you. she began sending you on more personal tasks like fittings for an outfit for the new charity gala shes hosting. after all her personal assistant cant just show up in poor clothing.

eventually when you get to work she doesn't even let you out of her office, she sets up your own little desk claiming its so that she doesn't have to go through the building looking for you if she needs you but truly its to keep you from others.

you would walk into work everyday with new gifts on your desk from expensive chocolates to cute jewelry (with purple diamonds of course), and just anything else to show that you are hers.

if however she catches you outside of her office talking to someone she has forbid you to talk to then you will no longer be able to do that. she is one of the richest people in the world with vacation homes around the world. and billions of dollars to pay off anyone who may come looking for you when she takes you.

she'll hide you off in one of her vacation homes on her private island so that theres no chance of you escaping when she isnt there. she gives you only the most luxurios things and food and has plenty of personally approved maids to help you and make sure you dont go mad being alone on an island.

hera comes to visit you every weekend and schedules a bunch of unamed buisness trips (or atleast thats what she tells everyone else) where she will visit you. the mansion that you are kept at has everything you could ever need so you wont ever try to escape. you also wont ever try to escape because of the cruel punishments promised if you do.

life with hera is quite lovely once you accept that youre never aloud to do anything without her knowledge. and maybe if youre lucky she may even let you back on the mainland, as long as you obey her alone.

- - - - - . o 0 O 0 o . - - - - -

[piratefishmama]

Finders Givers | Part 5

“So why’d you freak out?” Eddie expected the grilling, the second they left that extravagant building, he expected the grilling. “I mean, they were both super nice, I mean… Robin was… wow, I mean did you see her? I just—” he also kind of expected that, with the way Chrissy had just frozen at her entrance? Yeah. he expected that. “Wowzers y’know? But Steve was really nice too! He’d have probably offered us those jobs Eddie, we need jobs! Just cause rent is frozen doesn’t mean we don’t need jobs, we could save up our wages and use it on like, a holiday or something, we could go to Hawaii an be dumb white people tourists like in Lilo and Sti—”

“Did you not feel the vibes that guy was giving off?” Eddie didn’t usually interrupt her, she could go on a tangent, and the tangents were usually pretty cute so he’d often just let her go on with herself until she ran out of topics, allowing her to feel comfortable to just talk without feeling like she shouldn’t, but this time… he couldn’t hold it in.

“Steve?” She didn’t seem to mind though “yeah, I almost offered to let you two have some alone time, he was giving you serious bedroom eyes—”

“Chrissy no, nope! Not that! No he’s—he’s weird.”

“Weird in a hot way? Cause in my humble opinion he was working that suit. Do you think that tan was natural because oo-wee was it working for him.”

“Well yes, we both have eyes, but also no, dangerous weird, y’know? Something felt wrong about him, Chriss.” He felt like he was drifting in open waters and Steve was a huge leviathan type thing just waiting in the depths beneath him to drag him down away from light, away from life.

“You’re just saying that because he’s the boss of this big multimillion dollar company. Next you’ll be saying he’s capitalism personified or something, rich man buys out the neighbourhood, blah blah I can’t do your infamous table speeches, but listen, Eddie, he’s… he seems nice, maybe he is just nice.”

“And maybe he’s the mafia.”

“Eddie…”

“HE COULD BE! We don’t know that he isn’t.”

“This isn’t a movie, Eddie, c’mon let's just go home, maybe we can call up later about those jobs, yeah? It couldn’t hurt to work at a place you play at. Lenny wouldn’t give us the time of day when we tried applying for jobs there before, maybe we can get one now, it’s like… fate! Maybe Steve and Robin will come in one night and we can wow them with our fancy bartender skills, which we’ll of course learn through extensive trial and error, maybe a training montage, I’ll get my very own uptown girl an you’ll get your own hot rich man who’ll buy you fancy things and pamper you like I know you won’t admit you like but I know you’d eat that shit up.”

“Thought you just said this wasn’t a movie.”

“Some movies are based on real life stories! It could happen! It’s more likely than the mafia, c’mon.” Well… she had a point, they did need jobs, and Steve had… well he’d been nice hadn’t he?

There could be so many ulterior motives to what he was doing but why would it have to negatively affect them? It could just negatively affect some dude called Phil who lived two states over, it didn’t even have to involve them, really. Besides getting them a new job, right?

Right?

“…Fine, but you can send over our resumes, I don’t want anything to do with this! If the handsome rich devil man decides to give us the jobs, and comes into the bar, and I HAPPEN to serve him, and impress him then I will concede that the universe would like me to have a nice thing happen, but I will not go looking for fairytale endings, okay?” He knew better than to get his hopes up.

Steve Harrington had looked at him like he was dinner, he’d done the whole stuck staring stupid bit, and it’d been endearing, cute, surprising considering holy shit Steve was like… way out of his league, but… if the universe wanted it to happen then the universe would make it happen!

Eddie would have no part in the process of it happening! He’d just… indulge a little in the end result.

“Someday, Eddie. Someday I’m going to convince you to go and find good things for yourself, and you’ll see just how easy it is to make yourself happy.”

“Someday perhaps, but today is not that day.”

“Be honest now… what did you think of him?” It wasn’t a common thing, Steve sat in front of Robin’s desk, in the chair opposite her big floor to ceiling windows, with Robin looking pretty menacing in her high backed chair, shadowed, her hands steepled at her chin, thumbs pressed into her own throat in thought, her silence stretched long enough for him to tack on “think from a non-lesbian standpoint.”

“I think he looks like a passel of Opossum in a trench coat. A domesticated raccoon, a wet rat that some cruel individual permed for some reason.”

“Well that’s mean, and definitely not from a non-lesbian standpoint.”

“That’s from a person with eyes standpoint.” Steve rolled his own eyes and slumped backwards in the chair like a petulant teenager, arms crossed over his chest. “He looks like he’d scamper, Steve.”

“What’s wrong with scampering?! It’s cute to scamper!”

“It’s reserved for tiny critters, not fully grown adult men.”

“Men can scamper if they want to, don’t you impose your weird masculine rules on us, Robbie, it’s problematic.”

“I swear to god if I catch you on twitter—” shook her head, hand lifted to cut herself off “Steve… is this guy really worth all the money you’re throwing at this?” It was a lot of money, a lot, and they wouldnt get any of it back.

“I mean… I don’t know, but then I didn’t know if Jane would be worth it, or if she’d get any use out of the bakery I bought for her, I didn’t know if paying Nancy’s debts off would be worth it, I didn’t know if any of you would be worth the effort and money I put in to bring you all in and keep you all healthy and safe, and I still did what I did for all of you, so… why is this guy any different?” So far he’d been a spectacular judge of character. “Plus!!! He comes with a very cute blonde!! I’m sure you noticed the very cute blonde.”

“Aren’t you worried that they might be dating?” It was a very good point, and one he hadn’t actually considered. But then—

“If they are then they are, it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t give them a chance like I gave all of you guys a chance.” Anyone who’d knock the shit out of their manager for their friend or partner was alright by him, it showed a loyalty that laughed in the face of authority, he LIKED when people laughed in the face of authory. Authority figures needed to be laughed at sometimes. And punched other times. Robin’s shoulders slacked, her expression shifting to one of soft amusement. “Yooooou wanted me to say that didn’t you?”

“Maybe a little. Just making sure you’re not thinking entirely with your dick. They’re not dating by the way… she’s not even a little bit his type.” Eddie had been quite open about his own sexuality, on purpose or just as a spur of the moment thing, Robin didn’t know, but it was nice to know Steve’s interest wasn’t entirely a lost cause.

“I was wondering why you dropped my relationship status in there.”

“Mmm… I did notice the very cute blonde… she seemed nice.” Bubbly, cute, like a cheerleader “and only because Chrissy seemed very nice… only because I would very much like to see her again… am I going to agree to go along with this nonsense without further complaint.”

“You cant agree to go along with something without complaint while calling it nonsense.”

“Watch me, Dingus.”

[starboyyoongi]

payment. jeong yunho au

⭑ summary: you come across a strange customer one night who is quick to reveal his true nature to you. later on, however, you find out just how cruel his intentions really are.

or, in which a terrifying run in with a customer one night leads to your own demise.

⭑ pairing: jeong yunho x female!reader

⭑ warnings/tags: cursing, mentions of murder, killer!yunho, character death, mentions of/brief descriptions of blood, use of nicknames (“baby”, “doll”, “love”)

⭑ notes: this has been proofread and edited a few times, but there may be some errors that i didn’t catch 🙂‍↕️ yunho’s been on the brain as of late so i had to write something for him and it ended up being murder related how comical. hope you guys enjoy and feel free to leave your thoughts! x

YOU’RE SO CAUGHT up in how shiny his eyes look under the fluorescent lights that you don’t notice how bloody his hands are.

it’s not until he reaches into his back pocket to pull out his wallet and places a twenty dollar bill on the counter that you see how much his hands are stained red. you feel yourself freeze up a little, hesitation evident in the way that your fingers retract a little. if he notices your sudden change in behavior, he doesn’t say anything about it. instead, he slides his items—ramen, a bottle of strawberry soju, and a pack of cigarettes—across the counter towards him and gives you a smile before he walks over to the vacant table in the corner.

you blink a couple of times and shake your head a little before you grab the twenty dollar bill and put it in the register. you owe him change—twelve dollars and twenty five cents to be exact—but you don’t feel like telling him. you’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact that his hands are a bloody mess and he didn’t seem to mind it in the slightest.

you turn your attention back to your phone. maybe you’re seeing things. it’s after eleven at night and you didn’t get much sleep the night before or before you started your shift. it’s possible that all of that is starting to catch up to you, right?

right.

you glance over at him. only this time, it’s not his hands that catch your attention; it’s his face. and his shirt. and his arms. there isn’t a single part of him that’s not covered in dried blood. panic starts to creep in and you’re left feeling frozen once more. you want to look away from him, but you can’t. it’s like your eyes are practically glued to him.

you watch as he slurps up a mouthful of ramen and lets out a satisfied groan before he opens the bottle of soju. his long, slender blood stained fingers wrap around the bottle and he brings it to his lips to take a few gulps. there’s a bit of a pause before he places the bottle back down and lets out a sigh. he turns his head a little and looks around before his eyes land on you.

your eyes widen and you gasp as he smiles at you again. he parts his lips to say something, but you never get to hear it. a blank expression takes over his features instead, his smile almost immediately disappearing. the air suddenly feels thick and you can feel your heartbeat start to pick up.

you’ve never felt this feeling before.

in the eight months since you’ve started working at the convenience store, things have been okay for the most part. sometimes you had to deal with customers that had a little too much to drink and the occasional person who did a terrible job at hitting on you. you’ve also had your fair share of run ins with odd, if not mildly suspicious, customers, but nothing enough to elicit what you are currently feeling.

fear.

pure, genuine fear.

you try to run down a list of options in your head, but you can’t seem to focus. your heart feels like it’s pounding out of your chest and you can feel your hands start to tremble. the training your boss had given you months ago seems pointless now and you almost wish that the man staring you down was a robber instead. you’d have a much better chance at handling that than whatever this is.

as if something up above had heard you, your phone starts to buzz. you look at the phone screen then at him. he tilts his head to the side, a few strands of his dark hair moving as he does so. he squints his eyes and gives you a look that says i dare you. you grip your phone tightly in your hand and gulp.

fuck, you think to yourself. fuck, fuck, fuck.

you stare at each other as your phone continues to buzz before it stops. you secretly hope that it’ll ring again, but it doesn’t. you start to become acutely aware of how silent the store is now, save for some music playing softly in the background, and you hate it. you also hate how he’s still staring at you with that blank expression on his face.

he says something then, but you don’t catch it. the thoughts in your head are so loud that you can’t seem to hear anything else.

you wet your lips before stammering out a high pitched, “w–what?”

“i said,” he begins to say with an exasperated sigh, “where do you keep your computer? i need to access the cameras.”

“the cameras?” you repeat in the same high pitched tone.

“the cameras?” he says mockingly. “yes, the fucking cameras. jesus, you pretty girls really are fucking stupid.”

his comment leaves you stunned and your mouth falls open a little.

“i— what—”

“look, just tell me where the fucking computer is, okay? you can drool and masturbate over what i said later.”

“excuse me? i don’t— what?”

“you heard me. now, where’s the fucking computer?” he demands.

equally scared and taken aback by his crude comments, you point towards the door a few feet away from him and say, “it’s in there. the c–computer is in there.”

he grins at you as he comes to a standing position and it’s then that you realize how tall he is. without saying another word, he takes a few steps over to the door and pulls on the handle. you hear him mutter something about being stupid before he disappears into the office. once he’s out of sight, you let out a breath that you didn’t even realize you’ve been holding.

you take a couple of deep breaths before unlocking your phone and immediately dialing 119. you’re about to hit the call button, but you hesitate. you know that this is the right thing to do, but why doesn’t it feel that way?

you take a quick glance at the door. you don’t know how much time you have left, but it can’t be that much. all you have to do is hit the green button and tell the operator to send someone. that’s it. the whole thing shouldn’t take any longer than a minute or so. and yet, as you stare at the door and hover your finger over the screen, you can’t help but feel like you’re doing something wrong.

you’ve never been in this kind of situation before.

ever.

you think back to all of the times you’ve seen this exact scenario play out in movies and tv shows. the amount of times you’ve screamed at characters for saying or doing something stupid and ranting about what you’d do instead. but what you failed to realize back then is that all of it was fiction.

and this? this is real life.

and in real life, you don’t have time to sit around and wait for something to happen. it’s either do or die.

“fuck. okay,” you utter to yourself. “i got this. i can do this.”

with a sudden rush of determination, you unlock your phone again. this time, without any hesitation, you press the call button. you almost sigh in relief when you hear the operator on the other end pick up after a few rings and ask, “emergency services. what is your emergency?”

but as you open your mouth to speak, you hear the door open and suddenly the fear is creeping back in and your body is tensing up. you can hear the operator saying hello? and repeating what’s your emergency? over and over again. you don’t say anything as he slowly closes the door and cocks his head at you.

he knows.

you’re so caught up in the moment that you almost don’t hear him when he says, “do it.”

“do what?”

“don’t play coy with me. there’s a reason why you them called, right? so do it. tell them.”

you take note of the nonchalant tone in his voice. he seems unfazed, almost as if he doesn’t care about the fact that you’re a few words away from getting him arrested. the sound of the operator muttering a curse word and sighing breaks your thoughts.

“look, miss, is something wrong? or is this a prank call?” she asks. you can hear the annoyance in her voice and you know that if you don’t answer her, you might lose your only chance at getting help.

“yes, i…” you trail off.

you watch as he leans against the table and folds his arms across his chest, a smug look growing on his face. then he waits. he waits for you to say something, anything to the operator.

his words start to ring in your ears.

do it.

tell them.

tell them.

tell them.

“i’m sorry.” you finally say. you hear the woman on the other end let out a frustrated sigh as you continue. “i didn’t mean to call you guys. it was a dare. from a friend.”

you hang up before she can say anything else. he looks at you for a while longer, eyes roaming over your face and body, before he unfolds his arms and starts to clap slowly. he’s grinning so hard at you that you that it makes an all too familiar feeling start to stir in the pit of your stomach again.

“well done, baby,” he says. “maybe you aren’t so stupid after all, huh? or, well… well, maybe you are. i mean, shit, you practically made me get away with murder just now.”

your breath hitches in your throat.

murder?

“what do you— what do you mean that i let you get away with murder?” you ask timidly.

“oh, baby. don’t tell me that you saw all of this and thought that it was paint or something. no, see this,” he makes a sweeping gesture at himself, “is from the piece of shit that i killed half an hour ago. i always forget how messy murdering someone can be.”

“you killed someone?” you stammer out in disbelief.

he smiles. “of course i did.”

of course he did.

as the crushing realization starts to set in, you can’t help but start to wonder if you’re next. the thought is enough to make your chest start to feel heavy and your breathing start to speed up. you were next. you have to be. there’s no way that he’s going to let you go. not after he caught you calling the police on him and made you aware of his crime.

“woah, slow down there, baby. it looks like you’re about to have a panic attack and i can’t have you dying on me now. well… unless it’s because of me, of course.” he jokes.

you blanch at his words, barely able to register the fact that he’s joking.

when he sees the look on your face, he adds, “oh my god, relax. it’s a fucking joke. god, you should see your face right now.”

and then he laughs.

he laughs so hard and loud that it’s almost deafening.

“a joke?” you mumble out.

“yes, love. a joke. what, did you really think that i was going to kill you?”

“yes. i tried to call the police on you and i know about what you did.”

“and yet, you didn’t say or do anything about it, now did you? besides, i couldn’t kill a pretty doll like you. it’d haunt me in my sleep way too much.”

his words catch you off guard again, just like they did earlier. you scrunch your eyebrows up in confusion. why did he say that? and why is he acting so nonchalant about everything? does he think that this—

“…anyways, i think that i should go now, but it was nice spending some time with you, baby,” he says with a wink.

you watch as he barely turns around to down the rest of his drink before he tosses the bottle and ramen container in the bin next to him. he swipes the carton of cigarettes off of the table and shoves them in his back pocket before he turns towards you again.

“you know what, maybe i should come back here again. have a little more fun with you, you know?” the comment comes out in a suggestive manner and it makes your stomach churn. you ignore it, though and instead focus on him leaving.

as he walks past the counter, you catch a whiff of his scent. it’s an odd mix of his cologne and the irony scent of blood and it makes you feel a little dizzy.

when he finally reaches the glass doors, he stops. you inhale sharply, half expecting him to turn around and say that he’s changed his mind and he’s going to leave you dead in the dumpster. instead, all he says is,

“you can keep the change by the way.”

you hear him say something else, but before you can muster up a response, he’s already out the door. you stand there for what feels like an eternity, your mind struggling to process everything’s that happened. you move on autopilot for the rest of your shift. thankfully, no other customers come in for the rest of the night. there’s no way that you’d be able to handle anymore interactions tonight.

when you go home an hour later, you make a beeline towards your bathroom. you quickly strip off your clothes and step inside of the shower. you don’t wait for the water to warm up like you usually do. instead, you let the cold water run down your body and watch it run down the drain. your mind and body haven’t stopped buzzing ever since he left. the level of fear that he made you feel was different. you’ve never felt anything like it before and you don’t want to feel it again.

fifteen minutes later, you’re out of the shower and in your bedroom. the cool air of your air conditioner hits your exposed skin and makes you shiver. you move quickly, lotioning your entire body and throwing on some pajamas before slipping into bed. but just as your about to lay down and settle in for the night, a sudden loud knock at your door stops you.

you glance at the time on your phone.

1:03 AM.

who could possibly be at your door at this hour?

you mutter out a string of curse words as you slide out of bed and start walking towards the front door. i can’t even fucking sleep in peace, you think to yourself bitterly.

when you finally reach the door, you lean in and stare into the peephole. all you see is wet, dark hair staring back at you and it takes you a few seconds to realize that you’re staring at the back of someone’s head.

“um, hello? can i help you…?” you call out.

there’s a weird sinking feeling in your stomach as you watch the person turn around and when you see a familiar set of eyes looking back at you, your blood runs cold.

“hey, baby. open up the door for me, please.”

your breath hitches.

he’s not supposed to be here.

how did he—

“i know that you’re in there, doll. i can hear you breathing and shit.”

no.

“don’t make me wait all night now. open the door, baby. i’m asking you nicely.”

no, no, no.

“how did you find me? why are you here?” you finally ask, fear evident in your voice.

“i followed you here. you should really pay attention next time, doll. you could seriously get hurt, y’know.” he responds in a casual tone.

he steps closer to your door and peers into your peephole, almost as if he’s trying to look at you. “now can you open the door for me? please?”

“no. i don’t want to.”

“why not? ah! i know what it is. it’s because you don’t know my name, right?”

“what? n–no, it’s—”

“yunho. my name is yunho. and don’t worry about telling me yours, baby. i already know it.”

“how do you—” you begin to ask, but you pause.

“your name tag. don’t tell me that you already forgot about wearing one,” yunho says teasingly. he shakes his head before he continues, “but now that that’s out of the way, can you let me in please?”

“i— no. no, you need to leave. now, yunho.”

you immediately back away from the door, making sure to make as little noise as possible. you wait for his response, but you never get one. instead, you’re met with an eerie silence. you stand there for a minute, holding your breath and waiting to hear even the slightest bit of noise. when you feel like he’s gone, you let out a sigh. you go to turn on your heel, but the sudden sound of numbers being punched into your door’s keypad makes you come to a halt.

you watch in horror as your door opens and you come face to face with yunho. he closes the door behind him before he toes off his boots and places them in the corner right next to yours. he takes a step further, but you immediately take one back. he raises an eyebrow at you and hums then takes another step forward. you take another one back. the two of you go one like this until you end up backing up into your couch and he’s standing right in front of you.

his hand shoots out and you hardly have enough time to stop him from wrapping his fingers around your neck and pressing his body against yours. your hands fly up to push him back, but he catches your wrists in his hand.

“you know, you have a shitty leasing office. it was too easy to get the code to your place,” he begins calmly. “but you made it even easier. the code is your birthday, right?”

your eyes widen at his sudden revelation. this didn’t make any sense. it’s after midnight. nobody in the leasing office is there that late unless he—

“you didn’t...” you say.

“oh, but i did.” he grins. “they should get better security if they don’t want someone breaking into their office.”

“oh my go—” you gasp out, but you get cut off by yunho tightening his grip.

“i don’t know why you’re so shocked to see me, though, doll. i told you that i was coming.”

“n–no you didn’t.”

“yes, i did. right before i left.”

“no. you s–said that i can k–keep the change. that’s it.”

“and? what else did i say afterwards? i know that i called you stupid earlier, but you can use that fucking brain of yours, can’t you?”

almost immediately, your mind goes back to when he was leaving earlier. you remember him walking towards the door and stopping once he got to them. you also remember him telling you to keep the change and that he’d—

when he finally reaches the double doors, he stops. you inhale sharply, half expecting him to turn around and say that he’s changed his mind and he’s going to leave you dead in the dumpsters. instead, all he says is,

“you can keep the change by the way.”

he pauses before he adds, “you’ll be paying me back in another way later.”

your whole body begins to shake and your stomach lurches. there’s a sudden pang in your chest and before you know it, tears are starting to well up in your eyes.

“no,” you shakily breathe out. “no, yunho, please. i’m sorry. please, don’t.”

yunho looks at you with feigned concern as he releases his grip on your wrists and neck. you see this as your opening and try to move past him, but you immediately freeze up when you feel the uncomfortable sharpness of yunho’s knife at the base of your neck.

in one last ditch effort, you lift your hands up and wrap them around his throat. you squeeze as hard as you can and watch as his face breaks out into a smile so unnerving that it makes your skin crawl.

“are you h–having fun playing with m–me, doll?” yunho chokes out. his face is starting to turn red, but he never stops smiling. it’s like he’s enjoying this more than he’s supposed to.

you open your mouth to respond, but a sudden burning sensation in your abdomen stops you. you let out a small gasp and look down. blood is seeping into your shirt and creating a bright red stain in its wake. a wave of dizziness hits as you graze your fingers over the wet material, wetting your fingers with blood in the process.

“yunho…” your voice comes out in a quiver.

“i know that it hurts, doll. i’m sorry.” yunho gently coos, driving the knife even further into your stomach. he shushes you when you let out a pained cry, tears falling down your face. he moves closer and rests his forehead against yours, warm skin a stark contrast to how clammy yours is becoming.

you’re in so much pain that you can barely keep your eyes open let alone hear him over the loud ringing in your ears. you can’t focus. everything is too much. the pain is too much. he inhales deeply before he sighs, warm, minty breath fanning over your nose and lips. you screw your eyes shut as he gently presses a kiss to your forehead before he continues in a sweet, melodic tone almost.

“but it’s my turn to have fun with you now, okay? this is how you have to pay me back and i’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

[mothandpidgeon]

The Outlaws (Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader) - Chapter 2

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: T (eventual E 18+ MDNI)

wc: 1.7k

summary: Wanted for murder with a bounty on your head, your only hope of escaping the Pinkerton detectives is an outlaw named Joel Miller and his sidekick Ellie. But Joel has other plans for you.

tags: old west au, enemies to lovers, grumpy Joel, handcuffed together, period/genre/canon typical violence, alcohol, morally grey characters, reader has backstory, no use of y/n

authors note: Posting this today in honor of act ii. Yeehaw. As always, thank you @ezrasbirdie for the beta and support in this (you really need to tell me to stfu about these two) and in life.

Joel once took Sarah to see PT Barnum’s Greatest Show on Earth. Each ticket cost him two quarters. She pulled him by the hand past the tents with Tom Thumb and the giantess, straight to the exhibition of wild animals. There were all sorts of exotic animals in the menagerie– giraffes, elephants, snakes. You remind him of the tiger. Beautiful and cunning. Fierce. Dangerous unless it’s kept under lock and key. 

Which is why he’s grateful he kept these old shackles in his saddle bag. 

You’re in a friendlier mood once camp is set up and a rabbit is roasted on a spit. He knows it’s a rouse, that you’re still spitting mad and hoping to slit his throat in the night. On that train, you were the demure damsel in need of a rescue. Soon as he put that cuff on your wrist, you turned into a fire breathing dragon. 

You can be as mad as you’d like. You’re no match for his strength or his revolver. 

They sit around the fire, Joel and Ellie propped against their saddles. It’s a cool evening, a steady breeze blows off the river. The stars paint the purple sky and the cave is illuminated with the orange glow of a fire. There’s plenty to celebrate. Though, even when they score a good amount of money, gold pieces, and get away without a scratch, Joel never feels much satisfaction. Despite his personal quandary, it would be a beautiful night, really, if Joel weren’t sitting there waiting for you to do something foolish. 

He can tell you’re meditating on some new escape plan, knows better than to look at you too long. A girl like you, pretty and with that sharp mouth, is the type that knows how to use her womanly wiles. You’re desperate enough to try just about anything and he’s not giving you the chance. 

You must think he’s stupid enough to fall for it too. He reluctantly passes you his flask and, after you drink, you wipe your wet lips with a seductive  finger. 

Ellie’s being a real chatterbox, recounting each moment of the robbery as if she’s writing her own nickel weekly and peppering you with questions. He’s not surprised she’s taken a liking to you. There aren’t too many of the female persuasion out here. Maybe she can see some of Tess in you. He doesn’t. Tess was always calm and controlled. And when she was angry, she never fucking spit at him. In fact, he resents you for making him think about Tess at all. 

“Ten thousand dollar bounty, huh?” Ellie asks you. “What’d you do?”

Joel’s seen more than a few people running from the law but none of them look like you. You’re no Annie Oakley. 

“My sweetheart was fooling around with my sister so I killed em both,” you say. 

“Really?” Ellie asks. 

“No,” you say. 

“What was it really?” she tries again. 

“Leave it,” Joel says. 

He’d be just as cagey about his past. Outlaws don’t live by any code but if they did, questions like that would be frowned upon. 

Ellie grumbles at him. 

“I’ve got ten on me too,” she tells you. 

“Your daddy must be proud,” you say, looking to Joel. 

They respond in unison— “He’s not my Pa,” and a “I ain’t her daddy.” 

You do a lousy job suppressing a smile. 

“So this is the infamous Miller gang? Ain’t much of a gang if you ask me,” you say. 

Joel grinds his molars. 

“We used to be a proper one. Most of ‘em are in prison now. And then we lost Tess to a bout with fever. And Tommy left,” Ellie recounts. 

“Who’s Tommy?” 

“Nobody,” Joel says same time as Ellie tells you, “His brother.”

You look Joel up and down. 

“That’s enough yakking for tonight,” he says. “I’m turning in. C’mon.” He pulls the chain. 

Ellie laughs. “I should warn you. He snores something awful.”

You scoff. “Is this some kind of ploy so you can wake up on top of me?” you protest. 

Joel’s patience is wearing thin. He’s got half a mind to turn you loose and let the wolves deal with you. 

“You can quit the belly aching, missy. I ain’t taking that thing off til you’re with the sheriff in Jackson.”

“You’ll wear him down eventually,” Ellie encourages. 

“Ellie, go to sleep,” Joel orders. 

She rolls her eyes. 

“What if I got to use the privy?” you ask. 

“Hope you like company,” Joel says. 

You huff. 

“You at least going to give me a blanket? Cold out here,” you say. 

Joel’s only got one in his bed roll, a beautiful Pawnee blanket he bought off a trader from Kansas woven with geometric patterns. He knows it would be gentlemanly to let you sleep with it but you’re no lady. 

He sighs as he hands it over. You wrap it around your shoulders with a self-satisfied look on your face. 

“Anything else I can do for you, missy?” he says with mock cordiality. 

“You can stop calling me missy,” you say. 

“G’night, missy,” he says. 

It’s not your best plan. But just because it’s simple doesn’t mean it won’t work. 

First step, you wait for Ellie and Joel to fall asleep. The girl takes a while. She’s got a dime novel with a cowboy on the cover that she flips through as the flames die down. You watch her through your cracked eyelids, pretending to have already drifted off yourself. 

It’s hard to tell if Joel’s out. He uses his saddle as a pillow and you’ve positioned yourself on the other side of it, your arm outstretched so you don’t have to be too close to him. 

He murmurs to himself. You strain to catch what he’s saying. At first, there are words you can understand. The name Sarah passes his lips. But then you hear him make a sound you can only describe as a whimper. 

It gives you pause. You’ve never been a nurturing type but it pulls at your heart strings, almost makes you want to put your arms around him. You imagine a hurt puppy inside that big, snarling dog of a man.

His sharp silhouette is highlighted in the amber glow of the campfire. It’s a shame he’s such a mean son of a bitch because he really is easy on the eyes. Then he rolls over. His unexpected motion nearly twists your connected arm out of its socket and you bite your tongue to keep from swearing. That bastard has you chained up like a dog. You do all you can to control your temper, swearing soundlessly. You can’t afford to wake him. 

You wait a long while, listening to him grunt and snore. Once you’re sure he’s good and asleep, you move. 

It’s a process. You begin by flexing your wrist. An innocent gesture that could be explained by sleepy twitches. He doesn’t stir. 

Eventually you feel bold enough to inch towards him, pulling the chain carefully along the ground. You crawl on your belly until you’re in front of him, then you dare to lift your hands up. 

The chain clinks against the buzz of the night insects and you swear it’s so loud you hear it echo off the mountains. You hold your breath, wide eyed, every muscle in your body taught. 

Joel doesn’t wake. He might be pretending but his chest still rises and falls slowly. Either he’s a hard sleeper or he’s deaf. Might be a little of both. You’re always tired after the rush of a big score. 

Ellie hasn’t woken up. Her eyes are closed, mouth hangs open. Down for the count.

You flex your fingers before you begin the next step, lick your lips and take a steadying breath. 

You’ve picked pockets before. Never tried it on a sleeping man, though. You keep your touch light, delicate, unbuttoning his waistcoat with one hand. It falls open for you and you can’t help but smile. 

The key to the handcuffs is tucked in the inner pocket. You saw him put it there. All you have to do is lift it out, unlock the cuff, and you’re a free woman. What you’re going to do after that, all alone in the middle of god only knows where, you’re not sure. But that’s not of material importance until you have that key. 

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip and you move slower than molasses in January, easing your first two fingers into the little pocket. Your fingertip connects with metal and your heart jumps. Pinching the ringed end, you hold on and pull. It’s awfully heavy. 

Because it’s not the key at all. You’ve fished a pocket watch out of Joel’s vest. Damn it. It’s a dainty little thing— fine gold with intricate scrollwork engraved on the back. The face is all busted up and it doesn’t seem to be ticking. Most importantly, though it’s not a key. You need that goddamn key if you want to get— 

The unmistakable click of a gun being cocked makes you freeze. Joel’s awake, dark eyes shining in anger. You’ve had guns pointed at you on a number of occasions but still it makes your blood run cold. 

“The hell are you doing?” he asks. 

“You’re dreaming,” you tell him. 

He doesn’t think that’s cute. The scowl on his face just deepens. 

“Alright,” you say, raising your hands in surrender.

You put the watch back in place and crawl back to your spot. 

“Gimme the damn blanket,” Joel growls. 

You toss it to him, cowed. But what did you expect? This had never been a very good plan.

Once you hear the hammer of Joel’s gun go back into place, you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s quiet for a while as Joel gets under his blanket and you know he’s laying there waiting for you to fall asleep. 

You try to settle down, wrapping your arms around yourself. The night air bites at you now that you’ve lost your blanket privileges.

“Sarah a sweetheart of yours?” you ask him. 

His head snaps your way so fast you think his neck might break. 

“You was talking to her in your sleep,” you explain. 

“Say that name again and I’ll wring your neck,” he says. 

He sounded like he meant it before but you feel like he’s looking forward to putting a bullet in you. You shiver. You’re smart enough not to say another word. 

---

Chapter 3

I'd love to hear from you! Comments and reblogs appreciated. My asks are always open!

[berriweb]

╰┈➤ ❝ GRAVEYARD SHIFT SHENANIGANS ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. johnathan ohnn (the spot) x gn! reader

: ̗̀➛ warnings. y/n is strapped, johnny gives second hand embarrassment

: ̗̀➛ note. if you were the one getting robbed instead, i didn’t proof read this so if you saw a typo no you didn’t

only the restless and the crazies are awake at 3 am, and the only thing that those have in common are that they both have nothing better to do with their time. what does that make you?

The streets were quiet.

If you were lucky, every so often you’d hear the sounds of a car speeding down the road (likely well above the speed limit) or groups of people shouting and ranting while searching for a cab or an Uber after a long night at the bar across the street. It was rare, however, and you were more often than not left alone with your own thoughts to drown out the sounds of the fluorescent lights above you buzzing unnecessarily loud and the quiet pop songs playing on repeat from the speakers mounted in the ceilings.

Anyone else would run from the idea of being left in such a dull and lacking environment, but for you the nights spent sitting idly behind the counter waiting for the rare human interaction was necessary to keep your lights on and your ass out of the streets.

When you’d first heard the corner store was looking for a new employee to work the graveyard shift after the last worker quit due to a recent attack from a rouge villain that left him too paranoid to run the store alone, you were heavily against the idea despite your friend’s insistence that it was good money and she knew you needed it after hearing your previous complaints about your current job not being enough to cover both your bills and your meals. Knowing how prevalent crime could be, especially considering the part of town you lived in, who in their right mind would accept that job offer?

Luckily for you, you didn’t seem to be in your right mind. After a few convincing words and a quick interview with the grouchy owner of the store, you were welcomed with somewhat open arms and after two weeks of half assed training, you were successfully spending nearly all of your nights running the corner store after the sun went down.

Now it’s been two years, and as much as you love the security you feel knowing that you’re good at what you do, it can tend to get a bit boring on quiet nights.

You’d take the silence over the nights where you’d get visits from shady men coming in to withdraw a questionable amount of money and drug addicts who’d harass you for a few dollars to get a fix or were just completely off their rocker.

To make up for the lack of entertainment, you popped in an earbud and put on a podcast to drown out your thoughts, mindlessly flipping through the same magazines you’d been looking through for the last 4 hours of your shift. At some point celebrity drama had become more boring than the silence so you resulted to working on the puzzles and mind games on the back, so consumed in a sudoku game that you almost didn’t notice the sound of the scratching of metal and the small rusted bell jingling as the door to your store creaked open. As soon as it registered, you set the book down, sitting up, alert and ready as you eyed the new customer who had the pleasure of gaining your attention for the next few minutes they’d been in.

If there was one thing your shitty training had taught you it was to keep an eye out and be observant, more often than not the creeps came out at night and the last thing you wanted was to end up on the news with a bad id picture because you didn’t notice a man entering the store with a gun cocked and ready.

As a result, you’d gotten pretty good at profiling some of your customers and taking note of things that most people normally would pay no mind too. This man was no different.

Your alarms went off the moment he walked in, but you weren’t exactly sure which red flag set it off. Maybe it was the way he was dressed, in a big blue brown coat covering most of his upper half with the collar popped to hide his neck, topping it off with a brown bucket had covering most of his hat and what you thought were sunglasses. Maybe it was how you couldn’t tell what the glasses were due to his head being tilted down and his gaze locked on the floor and his own two feet. Or it could’ve been how you couldn’t get a good look at his bottom half aside from what you believed were black spotted white pants due to how quickly he scurried to the counter, his entire body tilting under your gaze as he seemed to be really shifty and refused to meet your eyes.

The only physical feature you could really make out about the person was that they were really, really pale and just from your angle you could tell he was a decently tall man.

“How can I help you?” Were the first words you chose to utter to him, trying to get an idea of what he wanted and why he seemed to be so nervous and fidgety, outlined by the way his hands messed with the hem of his coat.

“I- um,” he cleared his through, and you could sense the nervousness in his voice. His tone was light but held weight like he was hiding something or was guilty of something worse, “where is your restroom?”

What were the odds that he actually had to go? You’d had your fair share of people with the same mannerisms asking for the same thing and majority of the time they were using in the restroom, leaving you to pick up after the mess of tissue and needles, or worse, they’d leave behind, but something in your gut told you that wasn’t the case, and you couldn’t refuse him service based on a hunch.

Reaching behind you without taking your eyes off the man, you opened a drawer and pulled out a rusted keychain, clearing your throat and holding it out for him. “In the back, first door on your left, try not to make a mess,” you instructed and nodded your head towards the open corner in the back of the store.

With a small thank you, the unknown man quickly snatched the key from your grasp and made his way to the back with haste, though not without you notice the strange texture of his skin for the brief moment your fingers touched, and not without him eyeing the ATM machine he passed on his way back.

What was his deal?

A few minutes had gone by since he went to the back. You’d paused your podcast and sat silently, your gaze constantly shifting from the front doors to the back as you waited for him to reappear. Your negative attitude might have been uncalled for, he may have just been a regular guy who stopped at the first place that had an available bathroom, but you knew better than to be that hopefully. Moments later after you’d returned to your magazine, you heard a door open and footsteps, followed up by buttons clicking and pointed beeping noises. When you looked back, he was out and standing in front of the ATM, hesitantly pushing buttons.

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to make himself seem busy on the machine or was really anxious about pulling money. It could’ve been the case that he was taking out a lot for something that wasn’t exactly legal. Drugs, a sex worker maybe? It was none of your business, so long as he kept it out of your store.

You turned back to your magazine to avoid him noticing your constant staring, but about a minute later you perked up at the sound of a loud screech, silent curses and the sound of loud banging. Your senses heightened as you turned around again in your chair, and it took a moment to process the sight in front of you. The man had managed to climb on top of the machine, or at least that’s how you assumed he got up there, jumping up and down on the machine in a hurry. It was hard to piece together until you realized that the machine was now halfway through the ground, courtesy of a large black gaping hole that you were certain wasn’t there before. What the hell?

Your hand reached for the drawer under your register faster than you could process, being far too use to this drill. Your hands searched the drawer without your eyes leaving him before pushing it closed after discreetly pulling out your weapon. It wasn’t often that you needed the gun, but it’s better safe than sorry.

Quietly, you stood up from your chair and left from behind the counter, sneaking up on the man by tiptoeing through the aisles. Assuming he was a criminal, he wasn’t very good at keeping an eye out as he hadn’t noticed you creeping up on him from behind until you were mere feet away and turned off the safety, raising your arms with it pointed at his head. Unnecessary? Maybe, but you weren’t dumb enough I charge unarmed, not if he could be a serious threat.

“Freeze!” Yikes, maybe that was too officer-ey? Your tone was assertive, but your assumption that he could be a hero deflated and was thrown out the window as he reacted far too slow, turning around nearly jumping out of his (pants?), letting out a scream that could put a little girl at Disneyland to shame. His arms flailed and he lost his footing on the ATM, falling over only for another portal to open on the ground and swallowing him whole. He reappeared in a portal on the ceiling behind you and you jumped, turning around just in time to see him fall through, his torso hitting the top of a shelf and sending all of the condiments falling before he hit the ground. You couldn’t help but wince, that had to hurt, but kept your grip on the gun firm as he struggled to his feet.

Leaning against a display to pull himself off, he mistakenly put too much faith in the rickety stand and it toppled over, bags of snacks matching the other items scattered on the ground. He let out a groan of pain and when he stood, somewhat fully as he seemed to have bad posture, you watched the now broken sunglasses fall off of his face, or rather lack thereof, his hat falling to the ground.

He had no face. Where it should’ve been, there was a large, black gaping hole with no way to see anything inside. In fact, it wasn’t just his face, as you soon came to realize that he wasn’t wearing pants, those dots were his skin. He had no human distinguishable features, what you had assumed to be pale skin was actually paper white, decorated with black hopes all across his legs, seemingly his entire body. His coat still remained, but you were willing to bet that his torso was covered in the same holes as the rest of his body. If not for the humanoid figure, voice, and his clumsy personality you wouldn’t have known he was human, assuming he was.

“Wait wait wait! Please- pLEASE don’t shoot! I’m not dangerous I swear I’m a good guy, well I’m not because I’m robbing you but I’m not really robbing you-” as he seemed to start to ramble on, the confusion started contorting your face and he seemed to notice, laughing nervously with his hands still raised as he took a step back. “See, I’m not really a criminal but because I look like this now no one will hire me and I have to resort to robbing stores to support myself, you know?” As he spoke he attempted to shake an empty can that his foot lodged itself in, leaning down to pull it off while keeping a hand up which reminded you that you still held him at gun point.

While you were still only beginning to process what the hell was going on, you hypothesized that the more stressed or worked up he seemed to be, the more out of control his holes became, as the seemed to shift and swirl on his body more and more as he continued to rant. “I’m kind of like my own Robin Hood, you know the whole steal from the rich give to the poor? Except I kind of am the poor, at least I am now. I used to have a good job at Alchemax before they turned me into this, but I can thank Spider-Man for that too-” Alongside that, they popped up far more often, proven by how he suddenly toppled into another, emerging from the wall next to you and hitting the floor head first, wincing as he stood up, this time without the can, it instead falling from a different hole that appeared next to his head, hitting him square in the face before disappearing into another hole.

Without realized it, your arms slightly lowered and you resulted to watching the poor man’s sad attempts at controlling his mutation/power, finding it both pitiful and amusing. “But that’s besides the point! You really shouldn’t shoot me I swear I’ll be out of your hair, which looks great- by the way, as soon as I can I really don’t mean any harm!”

Pulling his arm out of a half closed hole, he suddenly straightened up, managing to stand in one place without being thrown around like a rag doll. Silence remained as you seemingly stood still and stared at him for what seemed like an eternity but was only a few seconds before you pursed your lips, looking down as a hand came up to your mouth to muffle the sounds.

“What- what are you doing?” He questioned you, and while there was no expression on his face you had a feeling he was looking at you with a puzzled look, only for his question to be answered when you suddenly doubled over, the muffled snicker turning into chuckles, which lead to giggles up until you were howling with laughter, hardly able to catch your breath. You left him standing there thinking you must’ve lost your mind. “Why are you laughing?!” You could only respond with more cackling, leaning against a wall and inhaling deeply to make up for the lack of air you could consume.

“What’s so funny?! This isn’t a joke!” He sounded both surprised and slightly offended, which you felt slightly bad for but given his methods you couldn’t help it, and by the time you started to calm down as he stupidly stood there, the pieces seemed to finally click on everything he was telling you, from what you knew anyway.

“Are you sure?” Were the first words that left your mouth, and he seemed baffled by your reaction. “Yes I’m sure! What’s your deal? I’ll have you know I spent a lot of time planning this out!” You highly doubted that.

The holes were definitely hard to get your mind behind, but as your brain tried to process you suddenly reminded the can while a portal, unbeknownst to you, opened up behind you. Where did it go?

BANG!

A sharp pain raced through the back of your head and the man’s hands went up to where his mouth would’ve, or rather should’ve, been. “Ohmygosh I am SO sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to!”

“Yeah, I figured!”

Reaching up to feel the back of your head, a throbbing pain settled in, but luckily no blood so you deemed it safe. You didn’t have to see it to hear the apologetic tone in his voice, and after that entire fiasco you could only feel bad for the poor guy. He clearly hadn’t been built for a life of crime, but unfortunately decided that it was his path.

“Listen,” you got his attention by showing off you lowering the weapon, before nodding your head up towards the ceiling and giving a pointed look to two corners of the store. “The cameras in here are really old, they don’t have audio and the video quality is horrible. I can edit the footage to an extent before I leave, but if the time gap between the frames is too long it might get suspicious and I’m not losing my job over you.”

You slowly raised your weapon as you looked back at him, turning the safety back on. “I’m going to act like I’m holding you at gunpoint and threatening to call the cops, all you have to do is snatch the gun when I ‘accidentally’ drop it, kind of switch the roles around, you get me? I can get you some money from the safe before I call the cops but you have to be quick-”

“Wait, hold on, you’re helping me?” He asked incredulously, his shoulders falling as he pointed at his chest. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“I am, you honestly don’t seem like a bad guy and it’s not coming out of my paycheck, so long as next time you try to pull this you don’t do it here.”

If he had one, his jaw surely would’ve been on the floor. “I can’t even begin to thank you, you’re a saint! Is this a trick? I can’t repay you for this-” he started on again, but you cut him off be gesturing towards the weapon again to remind him of your words before dropping it.

Luckily for you, he was able to catch on pretty quickly and took the gun. His acting was mediocre at best, but you doubted anyone would look at the footage closely enough to notice how amateur he seemed as he pointed it at you, he hadn’t even turned the safety off. He demanded you take him to the safe before you reminded him that the cameras couldn’t hear him and there wasn’t a need for the menacing voice, to which he sheepishly apologized. After letting him stuff his pockets with as many of the bills as he could fit, you yelled to stop him before he could race out the door.

“The gun. I need it back.”

“Oh, yeah, right…” he chuckled and left it on the counter, taking a few awkward steps back. Your curiosity got the better of you and you leaned forward from behind the counter. “You did a whole lot of talking but I never got your name.”

Flustered, he seemed to point at himself as if he were confused on why you were asking him, but replied, “I am…the Spot.”

The same feeling bubbling up in your chest as you eyed his stance and the sudden voice change, you brought a hand up to your mouth, and his shoulders fell yet again.

“You’re seriously laughing? Again?!”

“No! No, I’m not,” you tried to defend, but the giggle you let out before clearing your throat and biting back a smile said otherwise. Luckily you were able to control it this time. “It’s just- what kind of awful parents have the honors of giving you that name?”

“It’s my villain name! Not my real one!” He hissed.

“Then what’s your real name?”

He looked at you puzzled, possibly wondering why you wanted to know so much, but at the same time it’d been a while since anyone had shown genuine interest in him so he obliged.

“Johnathan.”

“Johnathan,” you repeated slowly, as if you were resting out the name in your mouth, making his stomach warm up with an indescribably annoying feeling. “Alright, Johnny. Have a good night. You might want to get lost before the cops show up.”

He turned around as if to leave before pausing yet again, turning his head back. “Wait, I never got your name?”

“Then I guess you’re going to have to come back another time to find out.” Bold, and completely not your style, but something told you that you and Johnathan were going to get along nicely. “Preferably not to rob me though, and without making a big mess I have to inevitably clean.”

You gestured to the mess of food and other miscellaneous items that had fallen off of mostly toppled shelves, and Johnathan gave a sheepish apology. “I’ll be back.”

“I’m counting on it.”

He disappeared into the night, or rather a black portal that opened under his feet once he stepped outside, and you were once again left sitting behind the counter and alone with your thoughts, the sounds of distant sirens getting louder every second, only this time you had something to look forward too the next time you clocked in and the Spot had a new motivation for his newfound criminal activity.

[sopiao]

task force 141 + konig going to the beach :D

100% unorganized and all over the place. Gaz and Ghost ganging up on Soap with water guns. Price lounging on a camping chair with a beer in hand, a book on the other. König and Shark drifting on the shore on floaties.

(callsign will be ‘Shark’ :3)

A beach day is just what the team needed after an unusually hard mission, and heaps of paperwork for that mission. Captain Price taking everyone out is like taking kindergartens out on a field trip.

Arriving to the beach, the whole group turned heads and caught the attention of almost everyone in 100ft radius. Group of soldiers, body covered in badass, healed, scars. Trained gazes to intimidate and belittle anyone with just a glare. All the while they had colorful beach items, coolers, towels, umbrella, and floaties. They all stare, not sure whether to be scared or turned on, or maybe both?

There were almost no space to breath with how many people were occupying the beach. They could already tell Price was getting irritated with how his personal space was being invaded. And with a simple glare from his soldiers, the people occupying the space around them immediately scooted away, giving them more than enough space to set up their towel and umbrella.

Not even minutes later, the soldiers were running around and acting like children. Of course, not before Price reminded them to put on sunscreen.

Gaz and Ghost whipped out two water guns each, super soakers, mischievously sneaking up on Soap, whose minding his own business making sandcastles, and drowning him in the cold water. Making him jump from the sudden temperature change against his back and immediately stumble up and run away.

“Pri—ce! Tell them to stop!” He shouts, running up to his captain, to tell on them like a kid. Price rolls his eyes from being pulled out of his book. He quickly looks at the two chasing Soap, waving them off just to get Soap off his back. It works for now, but planned to attack him when Price isn’t around.

Shark and König were floating around close by the shore, letting themselves get drifted away by the calming water. König sat himself in an inflatable shark pool float, while Shark dove under, looking for seashells or tiny rocks, floating up to the Austrian to show him and drop them all at his lap.

Soon, König couldn’t hold anymore seashells, rocks, or starfish. So, they’d run up to Dad Price. Running up like an excited toddler with a new bug they found.

“Cap’ look! I found a sand dollar!” Shark ran up, holding the sand dollar up, almost tripping over sand in the process. They looked for sand dollars and starfish that was pale and already dead, they wouldn’t wanna take a live animal to suffer in a new environment.

“Good job, kiddo” Price would laugh, looking up from his book to look at them from his lawn chair, chuckling heartily when Shark gave it to him, wiping of the excess sand before pocketing it in the swim shorts. Trying hard not to laugh when he sees them trip on nothing, getting up from the sand like nothing happened, and running away back to König.

—

“Noo! Get that thing away!” König would screech, backing away and shielding his eyes from the large crab that Shark held. Cringing and shivering at the look of how the crab moved it’s legs and tried to wiggle out of their grasp.

“König, look at him. Isn’t he just so adorable?” Shark cooed, retracting the little crab away from the big guy, finding it amusing how a wall of a man such as him can be scared of an itty bitty crab. You didn’t even have to hold it with two hands.

“Ooh, dinner” Gaz joked, sneaking up behind them to take a crab from their hands, being careful to not get pinched by her strong claws. Holding it above his head and opening his mouth in a joking manner.

“Ahh” He continued to tease Shark, sticking his tongue out. The crab wiggling frantically, thinking she was actually gonna get eaten.

“No!” Shark protested, punching Gaz in the shoulder to drop their new friend. Their pretty resilient so it’s fine, they got hard shells. The little hard shelled friend using this as an opportunity to crab walk away, hiding under a rock.

—

“Sandball fight!”

Sand in the face is not what Shark wanted.

When the grainy texture fell off their face, still sand in some of their hair, eye lashes, and face, they looked forward to see Soap laughing a few feet in front of them. Ghost started snickering, finding the lack of emotion in their face funny from his comrades usual stunts.

—Thud

It was Shark turn to laugh when Ghost’s amusement stopped, and his face covered in sand as well. Both Soap and Shark laughed and snickered. Ghost shaking the sand off his face before taking a big hunk of sand from the ground next to him and sending it flying to hit his attacker in the face. Giving him a taste of his own medicine.

Both Ghost and Shark started chasing Soap, second time he’d been chased today, with a mix of water and sand in their hands. Shark, later on, filled up a bucket with compacted sand and a little bit of water. Price couldn’t help but laugh, not even trying to hide it.

—

Soap and Shark were sitting at König’s sides. Covering his lower half in sand, Gaz coming back every so often to deliver buckets of fresh sand for their sculpture. Patting down the sand to be compact and smooth on his lap and legs before using sticks and their fingers to draw on scales and add details to his sand fins. König was beaming under his mask, resting his hands on his sides, tilting his head side-to-side to the beat of his own song he was humming

“Seriously?” Ghost’s shadow looked over the four of them, giving Shark’s eyes a break from the bright sun. He had his arms crossed and a raised eyebrow to show how much he finds their actions childish. A smile spreading on Soap and Shark’s face, while König waved happily.

Not even thirty minutes later Ghost was in the same position. Well, kinda, he was laying on his stomach, resting his chin in his hands. Feeling his teammates dump sand on his booty and legs. Gaz adding extra sand on his butt to give him an extra dumpy. Doing the same thing they did with König, who is laying down, lower half covered in sand, arms out like a starfish, basking in the sun.

“Seriously?” They all looked up, stunned when they see their captain looking down on them with his arms crossed, bucket hat over his head. Really? His best team of soldiers, that’s killed many, are turning themselves into sand mermaids? These soldiers have killed hundreds, infiltrated secret organizations, destroyed operations. And they’re playing mermaids to pass the time?

Not too long after, their captain followed the same fate as his two soldiers, buried in sand. Sunglasses on, without a care in the world. Many people walked by, finding it charming how such rugged and dangerous soldiers doing such teenage like acts. Price leaned back on his elbows while Soap and Gaz decorated his sand tail with seashells Shark was coming back to give them.

Later, Shark found coconuts and string to make coconut bras for each of the mermaids X3.

—

“Are they… dead?” Gaz asked, watching Shark float face down at the shallow end of the shore. Gaz and König were just soaking their feet in the water, taking in the beautiful scenery when Gaz noticed his comrade floating like a dead frog.

“I’m.. not sure” König tilted his head, bending down at the knees to try and determine if they are dead. Instead of actually checking or even just poking them with a stick, they just stood there and watched Shark’s body sway in the water.

—Gasp

Both jumped when Shark suddenly came up for air, pushing themselves up on their knees to stand up properly.

“Jesus, fuck!” “Scheiße! (Shit)” They both jump, not expecting for them to stand up so suddenly.

“Gotcha!” Shark squeals, holding a large seashell, holding it close to them it was as big as their head. Both were confused why it was so special and why they had to stand so still to look for it.

They both stood at either side of Shark, leaning in to look at the large shell. Maybe it was really pretty? Had a rare pattern, or just was rare in general. Shark smiled when they saw the cute little face of the hermit crab peek out of the shell then cover his face with his claws.

“Gross!” König yelped, immediately backing away and covering the eyes of his hood, startled once again by a sea critter.

“Sick” Gaz beamed. Leaning in closer, resting his elbow on Shark’s shoulder, to try and get a better look at the shy hermit crab.

—

The next day they were all sunburnt, except for Price. For the most part he stayed under the sun but when he was out swimming with his team he always made sure to put on sunscreen when he needed. The rest always put it off for later and never did.

[dr-spectre]

a thought i keep stumbling on while trying to work out Splatoon's world, how fairly "utopian" splatoon seems to be compared to our own, and i'm wondering just how far that goes, socially and economically

the primary activity for inkfish is an all-inclusive, free to play social sport where you literally get paid for playing, the only barrier to entry being a weapon, of any kind, even a scavenged up Splattershot Jr. (which may even be freely given?)

GrizzCo, evil as it is, seems to take full advantage of inkfish respawning (the helicopter does not leave even when the Triumvirate shows up in an enclosed space like Undertow, fucking insane pilot), so no one ever seems to actually die on the job? with actually pretty decent pay alongside it (if you get lucky lmao)

there is/this is way WAY too much to type in somebody's askbox but GRAAHHHH SPLATOON LORE

I'm going to be honest, i haven't given much thought on the social and economic status of the Splatoon world LMAO! My knowledge of Splatoon lore only goes to the Idols, the timeline and the hidden stuff in the games. Trying to figure out how money works in Splatoon and the conversion of it to real world dollars is just as headache inducing as figuring out how the fuck does the Inkling and Octoling hair work.

Like look at this chocolate cereal for example, in our dollars, would it be 38 bucks? 3 dollars and 80 cents? Or is it based on Japanese Yen? Because Inkopolis is definitely inspired by Tokyo and other cities in Japan, just take a look at the architecture.

Inkopolis and Splatsville for sure seem very utopian and you don't hear much about crimes or any real issues aside from giant electric fishes being stolen every once in a while, and maybe an Idol goes missing and comes back like a few days later (you know who I'm talking about.)

To me it's basically Japan but more advanced and has sea creatures running the place instead of hairy fleshy humans like us lol. And they have a popular sport anyone can join and get paid for. Turf War is like THE THING in their society and they wanna encourage everyone to play it, so they give out money. Or at least that's why i think Inklings and Octolings get paid when participating in Turf War. Hell it makes sense for Inklings and Octolings to get paid for ranked battles because it's more serious and competitive, like the competitive sports we have in our world.

Also i wanna say something too which is semi off topic, Inklings and Octolings are kinda fucking insane strength wise, they are able to carry large rollers, fire giant gatling guns, survive from nearly any height as they seem to slow down in the air and land just fine. They have no bones and can stand perfectly fine with just muscles alone. And as long as there's a respawn machine, they can never die, and if there isn't a respawn machine then they'll stay as floating little ghosts until they find a machine.

Like Callie and Marie for example, are not some cute little defenseless girls, HELL NO! They will MURDER you easily if given the opportunity. If a creep were to go onto their stages or if someone tried to grab them, they would easily grab them by the neck and throw them into the atmosphere! Their bodies are just pure muscle and ink. (And they have military training too technically.) And that's one of the reasons why i like em so much... They strong... We all love physically strong girls that can carry us or fucking destroy us... Don't lie to me...

The only thing that can truly kill them is age and even then, they age MUCH slower than us. Cuttlefish and Octavio are over 130 years old and they act like they are around 70 to 80 years old in human years. And you can probably extend their lifespan by giving them more ink as when they age they slowly dry out, so all you gotta do is keep giving them ink and they might be able to survive for much longer.

There is also water, however it only seems like large bodies of water make them explode and i'm sure you can't just spray a hose at them to kill them lmao.

It's no wonder Mr. Grizz uses these cephalopods to collect eggs, Inklings and Octolings are insanely strong.

[babyhatesreality]

The Sinner and the Saint Ch 1

Pairing: Mafia!Boss Bucky x f! reader

A/N- Deep breath. Promised myself I would jump and publish this today, so here we go. This is a completely different story than any of the others I’ve written. Please read all warnings before proceeding- this is not the universe you’re used to me writing in if you’re familiar with my other stories. THIS IS NSFW, REPEAT, THIS IS NSFW. DO NOT PROCEED IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH ANY OF THE WARNINGS FOR THE CHAPTER OR THE STORY. It’s my first time publishing anything in this world, let’s see what happens. There is a lot of world-building in this chapter, just hang with me, okay? And for the record- I fully support anyone who chooses to use their body in whatever industry they choose. You do you, babe, and I love you for it.  

Warnings for this chapter: f! reader, reader is an exotic dancer, some slight angst, swearing, fake names. 

Story Warnings: Mafia Boss Bucky and all that comes with that, and a lot of smut, slow burn relationship. Reader has a pet name that she will primarily be referred to as through the story, but there will be a moment of Y/N. 

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. I DO NOT GIVE MY PERMISSION TO HAVE MY WORK COPIED, PRINTED OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. MINORS DNI- 18+ONLY. Likes, comments, and reblogs deeply appreciated from age appropriate readers. 

Chapter 1

Flash ‘em that sweet, seductive smile....and done. Music fades- thank god. 

The crowd went nuts. You turned like you were going to exit, stopping to slip your thumb along the side seam of the tiny black lace thong you were wearing- just about all you were left wearing at this point- and a downpour of dollar bills fluttered onto the stage as the roaring of the crowd grew. It technically wasn’t against the rules to make them THINK you were going to take the thong off- just as long as you didn’t actually do it- and it always got you more tips. C’est la vie. You fluttered your fingers over your shoulder as Rhodey announced your stage name again over the mic, and you made your exit to uproarious applause. 

You managed to suppress your eye roll until you were back behind the shimmery silver mylar curtain. Sprite the stage hand darted out to gather your clothes and tips as the lights dimmed over the runway you had just vacated. You snatched the robe you had left on the hook back there and quickly covered up. It had been just your luck to draw the short straw tonight and have to perform to “Cherry Pie” by Warrant. You used to like that song, but ever since you had to take this job, you’d come to hate it. All the women who worked here hated the song. They heard it every freaking shift. But there was something about it that just made their clients go feral. So every night, someone had to dance to it, and tonight had been your unlucky night. 

You stretched your neck from side to side, trying to keep the frustration inwards and off your face. You’d been told many times by the other girls that you wore your heart on your sleeve. You’d always been a highly emotional person, acting on your feelings first. So you worked doubly hard to keep up the smile while you were onstage. The girls who smiled and played nice always made more money. And god knows you needed that money. 

You had moved to New York City with the same big dreams every kid in the midwest had. You were going to be a professional dancer. Maybe in the ballet, maybe a Rockette, maybe on Broadway. You didn’t care where- you just wanted to dance. You’d thrown your life into training since the age of four, taking any and every class you possibly could. You’d placed top of your rank in competitions, gotten leads in your school recitals and musicals, even gotten a scholarship- nothing could stop you. Except the harsh realities of trying to be a working performer in New York. 

That’s how you ended up at Voulez Vous two weeks ago. They were advertising for specialty “dancers” and you had been desperate, not having had a gig in at least a month with rent being very much due. Voulez Vous was the most upscale strip club in New York City. Much to your surprise, you’d loved it instantly. This place was fantastic. Clean, professional, positive work environment. A lot nicer than some of the other dancing gigs you’d gotten. Taking off your clothes wasn’t that big of a deal to you, especially after some of your...past extracurricular activities. And you still got to dance here- after a fashion. 

They treated each other wonderfully. Most of the other girls were friendly and sweet. Natasha Romanoff was the best boss you’d ever had; kind, loyal, but firm and no nonsense when she needed to be. The pay was incredible, not to mention the tips. It was the only way you were surviving in New York while still trying to go on as many auditions as possible. The late nights of your job made it a challenge, but you were determined. So you put on a carefully crafted and seductive smile every night, pretended you were onstage at Radio City Music Hall, and danced your heart out while dropping your clothes on the stage. So your dreams had to change a little; you could do this. 

But it didn’t change the fact that dancing to ‘Cherry Pie’ still SUCKED. 

Just as you angrily tied the sash of your robe, Gamora came up to you, a sympathetic smile on her face. She held out a bottle of water to you. “Thanks,” you said, trying to force the fake smile back on your face. Gamora and you had become close over the past two weeks- she was sarcastic and sweet, with a fierceness that you could only envy. 

She huffed a kind laugh at your attempt to hide your feelings about getting saddled with ‘Cherry Pie’. “Sorry that you ended up stuck with that song tonight, but girl, you KILLED it,” she said, taking off her own robe and hanging it on the hook yours had just recently occupied. “You have got to teach me that leg thing you do. They are losing their damn minds every time you pull that out.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s becoming my signature move,” you said, a little proudly, trying to keep up the smile. “I wasn’t sure where to throw it in- did it work on that high note part?”

“God, that was perfect timing. You nailed it, baby. And now, just think! You’re out of the drawing pool on that song for at least a week!”

That cheered you up instantly, causing you to actually smile. She grinned back. “Atta girl,” she said, gently slugging you on the shoulder. “Listen, rumor has it there’s a new round of dancer auditions over at Zemo Studios in a couple days. You should totally go.” Before you could say anything, Rhodey announced Gamora’s number. “Thank me later,” she hissed with a grin before bursting her way through the silver mylar curtain to loud cheers. 

You shook your head, but couldn’t help smiling. Gamora was always looking out for you, even on those days where you weren’t so great at looking after yourself. Sprite came hustling offstage, narrowly avoiding Gamora and handing you a wad of crumpled bills. “Here you go, Miss Angel,” she said with her typical mischievous grin. She looked like she was about twelve and straight out of Neverland, but Natasha had assured you she was overage and just incredibly genetically lucky. You smiled, peeled off a ten, and handed it to her. Sprite’s grin grew- you always tipped her well.

“Thank you Sprite,” you said quietly, then made your way back to the dressing rooms. You were so focused on turning the bills the correct way and putting them in monetary order that you nearly ran right into your boss. 

“Whoa,” Natasha said, grabbing you by the shoulders so you didn’t collide. You looked up quickly, nervous. “Where’s the fire, babe?”

“Oh shit, sorry Ms. Romanoff,” you gasped, both from the surprise and the immediate guilt welling up in you. You should have been watching where you were going, idiot, you hissed at yourself. You nearly plowed your boss over, moron. What if she thought you were intentionally being rude or disrespectful or-

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” Natasha laughed, trying to calm the panic on your face. She knew that you were still nervous after only being here two weeks. She rubbed your arms kindly. “And please- call me Natasha, okay? I promise it’s alright.”

“Right. Sorry. Again.”

“No problem. C’mere, I have something I need to tell you,” she said, gesturing over her shoulder to the dressing rooms. You tried not to be nervous- the boss wanting to talk to you mid shift never seemed like a good thing, but Natasha was cool as a cucumber, so it couldn’t be anything that bad, right? You followed the petite red head into the small dressing area. As soon as the door was closed, she immediately turned to face you. 

“Okay, I know you’re still new here, and I don’t want to freak you out, but...you’ve got a booking in the VIP Champagne Room. Right now.” 

Your heart stopped. Oh god. The Champagne Room. You knew the club had a whole section of them but you had never been booked in one yet. Your nerves went into overdrive and turned your veins to ice. 

Natasha took the wad of money out of your hand and sat you down in front of the dressing room mirror. She began delicately fixing your hair and your makeup from all the hair tossing and sweating you’d done during your number. 

“Trust me, honey, there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s not nearly as bad as what you’re thinking, okay? I know the guy, you’re going to be safe with him. Just...try to make a good impression, alright? He’s a frequent flyer around here. He does this with all the new girls. He likes to introduce himself, and talk to you a bit. He just wants to get to know you and make sure you’re doing okay. That’s it.”

“Uh huh,” you said faintly, staring at yourself in the mirror, trying to will the nerves away as she pulled you out of your seat, and draped a sheer lace wrap dress around your body. “Just...get to know me?” you asked quietly, hoping she’d understand what you were trying to imply. She stopped and faced you with a gentle smile, knowing you needed reassurance right now.

“The rules for the Champagne Room are always in place, no matter who it is,” Natasha said firmly, taking your ice cold hands in her warm ones. You vaguely noticed that her hands were a bit calloused- surprising on such a quiet, gentle person- but your brain was much more occupied with what she was saying. “They keep all their junk in their pants at all times. They are not allowed to touch without your consent. You can take anything- ANYTHING- you want to off, but only if YOU want to. They can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. If you want to do more while you’re in there, that’s your choice, and yours alone. But you are not required to. Consent is still alive and well in my clubs, and always will be, thank you very much,” she added with a little grumble at the end before letting you go and draping a fake diamond necklace around your neck.

You knew it was true. At least 3 people got tossed out every night for touching or trying to touch the performers. No one touched Natasha’s girls without their say-so. “And,” she added, as she touched up your lip gloss. “Fury will be right outside the door. If you need him, you just say the code word and he’s in the room with you immediately. But you won’t need him. Like I said, I know this guy. He wants to talk and that’s it. I swear. So just be your good girl self, and you’ll walk out of that room in one hour with more money than God.”

Before you were even close to ready, you found yourself outside the pale pink door marked ‘VIP’, Natasha whispering encouraging things in your ear that you barely heard. This was the most luxurious of the rooms in the place, so whoever it was definitely did have money, like Natasha said. You tried to remember that this was apparently a ‘thing’ for whoever this was, and tried to banish the self-hating thoughts about why anyone would pay so much money just to spend time with you. The fake diamond crusted Fuck-Me Heels you were wearing gave you confidence; fake confidence, but hell, you’d take anything you could get right now. You took a deep breath, reached out, and turned the gold door knob. You entered the room. 

And your heart began to beat in a way it never had before. 

Sitting on the expensive blue velvet chaise lounge, nursing a tumbler of bourbon, was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen in your life. The deep, ocean blue eyes caught yours immediately. Neither one of you moved as you locked gazes. His dark brown hair was cut short, nearly buzzed on the sides, with just enough on top for you someone to run your their fingers through. There was no hint of stubble on his jaw (that could clearly cut glass- it was that defined), like he’d just shaved. He was wearing an off-white suit with a black shirt, patterned with gold. His left ankle was propped up on his right knee, patiently waiting. His black leather-gloved fingers were gracefully curled around his glass, and his eyes stayed locked on yours as he slowly brought it to his sculpted and expressive mouth. After a long sip, he set the glass down on a crystal coaster sitting on the table next to him. And he gave you a seductive smile.

“Good evening, Miss Angel,” he said. The timbre of his voice made you want to both melt and snap to attention, all at the same time. There was something so...intriguing about his tone. Dominant. The notes of his voice that said this wasn’t someone you wanted to mess with, but...something more too. Something deeper. Something that made you want to melt to your knees and  bow at his feet, but prove yourself too. It was the strangest dichotomy. And you couldn’t figure it out right now- you were too busy gaping at him. “And how are you tonight?”

Suddenly remembering that you were at work and here to do a job, you recovered your own seductive smile immediately, although it was nowhere as near panty-dropping as his was. “I’m wonderful, thank you,” you purred demurely, causing the corner of his mouth to pull up. Good. He wasn’t entirely immune to your charms either. “And how are you, Mr....?”

The gorgeous man brought a gloved finger up to his lips for a moment, rubbing them as if he was thinking. He looked over at his tumbler of bourbon. “Nick,” he finally said. 

“Just Nick?” you asked shyly, determined to stay on the right foot with this guy, no matter how mind-numbingly hot he was. He grinned as he stood up, and looked back at you. 

“Ol’ Nick, if you want the full name.”

“Ol’ Nick?” you repeated in disbelief. There was no way this man was what anyone could consider “old”. 

“Yup. Ol’ Nick. Like the devil. Figured since you were “Angel”, I’d give you a name that matched yours. A...worthy adversary, if you will,” he said, one eyebrow bobbing up in a challenging way. 

A challenge. Hm. That sparked something in you. 

“How kind of you,” you said, letting your eyes twinkle at his mischievously. “I love a worthy adversary.” The corners of his gorgeous lips pulled up even more, seeing that you were playing along. “So what can I do for you, Nick?”

To Be Continued....

Chapter 2

[justmeinadaze]

I had any Eddie fic idea please let me know if you’re not interested in writing it. But I was thinking Eddie survived the upside down, but he’s not the most “liked” person in town so he doesn’t go out much and he was able to get a job, it’s nights. He’s a janitor at an office — where reader works— one day she stays late and that’s the first time she meets him and she thinks he’s sweet so she maybe gets him something from the vending and leaves a cute note for him on her desk, she starts staying late at work more often to see him. Maybe smutty ❤️

A/N: I couldn't not be smutty :P

I'm going to add a warning here this does pull from things from the show. I did allow for Eddie's presumed PTSD of everything he went through pull through. If you've ever been through a rough experience you know what that's like so <3

Word Count: 3601

##############

Eddie threw his finished cigarette out of his van towards the empty parking lot of the office building he worked at. 86 was shaping up to be an exhausting year for him. When Steve and Dustin pulled him back through the gate and out of the upside down, they genuinely thought he might die. He was in the hospital for over two weeks in and out of consciousness until they started seeing any real improvement. During that time, the gang did everything could to clear Eddie’s name and legally they had succeed but not within the court of public opinion. 

Hawkins was still ruthless with the name calling and bulling. It had gotten to the point where he barely ever left the new trailer those “government people” got for him and his uncle. 

“Eddie,” Wayne’s eyes glanced over his nephew with concern. “You can’t just hide out in here. You were given a second chance. Go live your life, Kid.”

Eddie’s bottom lip trembled as he looked up at his uncle. “I want to but… Wayne, either they’re still afraid of me or they hate me because they think I got away with murder.”

Wayne sighs, knowing what Eddie was saying was true and feeling helpless at not being able to help. “I know. What about, maybe, finding a part time job. Something you can work at night like me. It doesn’t have to be permanent. Just until you get enough money saved up.”

So that’s what Eddie did. It took him ages to find a place that would actually hire him. The corporate offices downtown were looking for a new night janitor and he had to beg them to give him a chance. 

“No funny business or the else you’re out of here, son! Just keep your head down and do your job.”

He couldn’t complain. Eddie was getting paid, out of the house, and since he worked at night no one was around to harass him. Flashing his name badge against the door he entered through the side. After clocking in he casually changed his clothes and started the routine he had been trained to do. Tonight would be his first night fully alone and he was ready, shoving his Walkman in his pocket and placing his headphones on his head. 

By around 10pm he had finished most of his tasks. He was lost in his thoughts, listening to the sound of Dio playing his ears as he mopped the floor below him. A figure suddenly came into view, making him jump, and hold up his fists in defense. 

“Whoa! Hey! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you!” Eddie pulled his headphones down around his neck as he grabbed his chest, trying to regulate his breathing. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

His head finally lifted, meeting your worried gaze. 

“I’m…yeah, I’m okay. I just…no one else is supposed to be here.”

“Yeah, I’m working late on something for my boss. I got hungry so,” you wave your dollar in front of him and point to the vending machine. “I know you’re mopping so I didn’t want to mess up your hard work. Thought I would wait for you to finish.”

“Oh, um, no please. Go ahead and do what you need to do.”

When you smile at him, Eddie feels his heartbeat faster again. It had been so long since a stranger smiled at him. You started tiptoeing in your heels across the floor, trying not get the floor dirty again. You feel the floor abruptly slide out from under you as you slip and start to fall sideways. 

Eddie quickly reaches forward, catching you in his arms. You chuckle as he sets you upright and you grip on to his hand trying to steady yourself. 

“Thank you! I swear I can walk.” He grins down at you. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

“I do. No one usually wants to talk to me though.”

“Why is that?” You look through the machine, debating on what to get. 

“Um, you’re not from here I’m guessing.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because then you would know who I am.” You turn to look at him, quizzically. 

“I am from here. I don’t pander to the idle gossip of this community though. Everyone gets riled up over nothing.” Sighing, you put your money in and push some of the buttons, watching as a bag of chips fall. “Geez, I mean, I remember a few months ago, my mom saying something about people getting pissed about that fantasy game. What is called?”

“Dungeons and Dragons.” Eddie steps a little closer to you.

“Yes! I’m not good at any of that stuff but to say it leads to murder?” You roll your eyes as you smile at him. “Do you want something?���

He shakes his head as if waking up from a dream. “Oh, no. I’m good. Thank you.”

“No problem. If you change your mind let me know. I’m over there.” You point towards your office. “I’m Y/N.”

“Eddie.” He watches your face for any recognition of his history but your grin grows as you reach out to shake his hand. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Eddie.”

He sneaks glances at you while you work. You were about his age but he couldn’t remember ever seeing you before. The way you moved around your office was memorizing to him. You were so beautiful and sweet. He wanted to talk to you more but part of him was so terrified. The last girl he was attracted to was killed right in front of him. 

The sound of you putting on your jacket and gathering your things brought him back to the present. After you leave, he enters your office with the intent of cleaning it. Something on your desk, though, caught his eye. On a sticky note, attached to a bag of chips, was his name with a note underneath. 

Eddie, 

I’m sorry for scaring you. I hope this makes up for it :)

Don’t let the people in this town affect you. You seem

like a nice guy who deserves to be happy.

-Y/N

He couldn’t stop thinking about you through the rest of shift. As the sun started to rise, he hurriedly headed downstairs to change back into his street clothes. Eddie stands behind the door, listening in as the employees slowly start filling in for their workday. He waits for silence before finally opening the door, preparing to book it to his van without being seen. 

He turns, bumping into something small. “Shit! Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

You giggle, adjusting the items in your hands. “No. No don’t even worry. We’ll call it karma for me scaring you last night.” His grin is soft as he looks down at you, his eyes scanning over your beautiful face, making you blush. “Eddie, do you maybe want to have breakfast with me? I can’t eat all this by myself.” You hold up a bag of food from one of the shops in town. 

For a moment, he forgot where he was. The fears and anxieties of the past few months were erased when you smiled up at him. “Um, sure. I could eat.”

“Yay! We can go eat in my office. I don’t know if you like—”

A couple of your coworkers come through the front door. One of the men stops, shoulder checking Eddie, as he loops around him to the other side of you both. 

“Hey Munson! Didn’t know our company hires murders now.”

Eddie’s gaze shifts to the floor hoping to avoid any further confrontation. He can’t afford to lose this job. 

“Is there a problem here?” Your tone is sharp as you address the men surrounding you. 

“Y/N, you need to be more careful who you talk to.”

“I think I can figure out who I should or should not be talking to, Carter.”

“Oh, so you don’t mind talking to a killer then?”

Your hand reaches out to grab Eddie’s arm but he flinches slightly, pulling it back. “Eddie, come on, let’s go to my office.”

“Pfft, he’s not taking one more step. Trust me, Y/n. You’ll thank me.”

Carter grips your arm pulling you away from Eddie as one of the other boys start pushing him out the door. He watches as you try and tug out of the man’s grasp. Something ignites inside of him as he shoves your coworker to the side and marches up right in Carter’s face. 

“You have a problem with me, you come at me. Get your hands off of her.” 

Carter lets you go as he takes a step forward bumping Eddie’s chest with his own. “You couldn’t keep your hands off Chrissy Cunningham. Unfortunately, she isn’t here to defend herself, is she?”

Upon hearing her name, images of that night flashed through his mind. Chrissy standing in the living room of his trailer with that vacant expression. Her eyes gray and unresponsive as he tried to wake her up. The lights flicking as her body levitated toward the ceiling and he bones snapping before she fell back to the ground.             

Eddie’s eyes flick to yours before angrily glaring back at the man in front of him. He turns on his heels and hastily leaves out the front door. Halfway to his van he hears your voice behind him but he doesn’t stop.

“Eddie! Eddie, wait!”

“They’re right, Y/N. You should stay away from me.”

He starts to open his driver side door but you put yourself between it, blocking him from getting inside. “Why? Because of what they say? Fuck them.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t even know me.”

“I know you’re not a killer.”

“Move.”

“No.” Eddie stepped right up in your personal space, looking down at you with what he hoped was an intimating stare. Your eyes penetrated his. “Did you kill that girl?”

His eye lids flutter slightly, trying to block the images from replaying again. “No.”

“Have you ever physically hurt anyone?”

“No.”

Your hand rises and grazes his cheek. “I believe you.” You step to the side and Eddie climbs in, pausing before turning the key in the ignition. “I’d understand if you didn’t come back but I hope you do.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

The van comes to life and he shifts the gear in drive. “For believing me.”

##############

Eddie debated on it heavily that night but decided he could go back to work. In the upside down, he told himself he was done running and he meant it. Even though he was utterly terrified and slightly angry, he went to his shift and went about his nightly tasks. 

When he got to your floor, he saw the light on in your office. Eddie left his cart and quietly made his way towards you. Your eyes were focused as they scanned the work in front of you. When he saw you this morning your hair was pulled up in a tight bun but now it was untied and flowing your shoulders. The blazer jacket you had on was on the chair behind you and your sleeves were pushed up to your elbows. 

He gently knocked on your door and your eyes lit up when you saw him standing in the doorframe. 

“Hey Eddie.”

“Hey. Are you okay?” He points towards your desk. 

You stretch as you lean back in your chair. “Yeah, just exhausted. This is supposed to be really important and I don’t want to fuck it up. Being a woman in an office setting isn’t the easiest thing and I want to show them that anything they can do I can do to but better.”

He smiles at you, marveling at your confident, strong attitude. 

“Since we didn’t get to have breakfast…” You point to the Chinese food near the corner. “Do you want to share with me? I ordered it but I haven’t actually stopped to eat it.”

Eddie sits in the chair in front of your desk and you both share your dinner. You talk back and forth about things in your lives. He purposely omits a lot of details especially from the last few months but you don’t seem to push which he appreciates. 

“This morning I saw you had on a Black Sabbath shirt. Is that your favorite band?”

“Oh, I mean I have a lot of favorites but they are definitely up there. I also like Dio, Iron Maiden, Metallica.”

“I love Metallica! Have you heard that new song off of their new album ‘Master of Puppets’? They’re guitar work is amazing. I love it.” You giggle but stop when you notice Eddie freeze. “Eddie?”

His eyes stare through the void remembering the night he played that song to distract the bats so the gang could defeat Vecna; the night he almost died. Eddie didn’t hear or even notice you had come around to kneel in front of him, placing your hands on his knees. 

“Eddie? What’s going on?” A single tear slides down his eye and reach up with your thumb to wipe it away. He suddenly blinks as if your kindness has brought him back to Earth. 

“Yeah. That’s a pretty good song. I can play it you know.” He chuckles to himself as he leans back trying to pretend nothing had happened but you won’t let him this time. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to but you don’t have to hide your feelings. Even though I believe you didn’t commit those murders I know something happened. You can trust me.”

“Can I show you something?” You nod your head. “You can’t ask me questions and I can’t tell you a lot about what I’m going to show you.”

“Okay…”

“I’m serious, Y/N.”

“Eddie, I promise.”

You stand up and lean your back against your desk as Eddie rises, moving about the room, closing your office door even though you two were alone. 

He places himself in front of you as he begins unbuttoning his janitorial uniform shirt and pulls off his plain black shirt underneath, tossing them on the chair behind him. Eddie watches your eyes widen and take in the sight before you. He had so many scars that looked like bite marks along his sides and stomach. You fingers reached up to touch them causing him to jump.

“I’m sorry. Do they…do they still hurt?”

“Not really. It’s just…no one has touched this part of my body since my hospital stay.”

Since he brought it up you felt safe to ask, “How long were in the hospital?”

“A little over a month. I was in and out for about two weeks and then when I finally started getting better…”

“What else are you allowed to tell me?”, you whisper as your mind runs through every possibility of what could have happened to him. 

“I was protecting people I loved. I couldn’t save Chrissy but I could help them.”

Your hands reach for his stomach again and this time he doesn’t flinch. “Now I feel even worse for startling you.”

Eddie’s tummy shakes as he laughs. He hasn’t genuinely smiled in a long time. “It’s ok. I’d rather it be you coming out of the darkness than anything else.”

Your wrap your arms around him resting your head on his warm chest. “I’m sorry you went through that. I can’t imagine how it feels having these assholes make you relive that pain.”

His arms circle behind your shoulders as he places his chin on top of your head. “It sucks but I do have my friends, my uncle, and now I have you who believe me. I try to focus on that.”

You lean back, looking up into his beautiful brown, chocolate eyes. “Can I—”

“I said no questions.” Eddie flashes you small smile. 

“Okay, no questions.” You snake your hand around his neck and pull his lips to yours.

His own hands release you, completely thrown of guard. After a few seconds, his lips slowly began reciprocating. You pull back slightly, hovering over his lips. 

“Eddie, it’s ok. I trust you.”

A shaky breath escapes his mouth as he connects it back to yours with new found confidence. His hands reach for the back of your thighs as he lifts you fully onto your desk. He found home between your legs as he clothed cock grinded against your panty covered core making you moan into his lips. 

Eddie’s mouth trails down your cheek to your neck as he reaches up into your skirt to pull your underwear down to your ankles. He leaned back to watch you pull at his belt and reach into his boxers to pull out his dick. 

“Oh wow.” You moaned as you began pumping his length with your hand. 

“Can you—”

“I think so.”, you whisper against his lips. Reaching for his hand, you guide his fingers up your thigh to you’re the outside of your folds. “You tell me.”

You whimper as his glides two of his digits inside your pussy lips. His lust blown eyes lock with yours as you nod, encouraging him.

Your cling to his shoulders, opening your legs wider as you watch him stroke your slick on his fingers on to his cock before positioning it outside of your entrance. Eddie growls as he breaches your hole, sliding in easily. His head falls to your shoulders as he begins thrusting carefully into you. 

“Eddie, oh my god.” His cock twitches inside of you making you smile.

He tips his head to find your lips as he finally bottoms out. “I like the way you talk to me.”

You tenderly push his hair back from his face as he starts pumping into you at a steady pace. “You like the way I talk to you, baby? What do you need to hear?”

Eddie doesn’t respond verbally but his hands reach down to wrap your legs around his waist, lifting you up and placing you further on the edge of the desk so he can hit a different angle inside of you. 

“Fuck, Eddie. Just like that. You feel so good.” One of your arms wraps around his neck while the other reaches back for support on the desk. You mouth hovers over his ear as you continue to murmur to him. 

“That’s it, baby. Do I feel good to? With my pussy clinging to you so tightly. I want it to feel good for you. You deserve to feel good after everything you’ve been through.”

At your last sentence, he thrust into you harder making your moan come out more like a little yelp. Eddie pulled his head back to look into your eyes, making sure you were okay. You placed a soft kiss on his lips. 

“It’s ok. Don’t stop. It didn’t hurt, I promise. No one,” you lick your bottom lip, “No one has ever been this deep before.”

He watches your face as he mimics the same motion and moans as your eyes roll back and close. Eddie pumps his hips into yours roughly, picking up his pace. 

“Jesus. Fuuck.” He feels your cunt grip him as your body shutters against his. You cling to his neck, thrusting your hips up to meet his as you ride out your orgasm. 

You lean your forehead against his, smiling with hooded eyes. “Fuck, Eddie. That was fantastic.” Your hips start moving against his again. “I want you to feel like I do. Cum for me, baby. I want to watch you cum.”

He kisses your lips as he thrusts into you, tangling his tongue with yours. Eddie’s movements started to get sloppy and he suddenly pulls out of you, falling back into the chair behind him. You watched as he pumped himself a few more times before he groaned and ropes of his seed shot out, hitting his stomach. 

You look around your desk before handing him a tissue. Eddie politely thanks you, cleaning himself off, and reaching to pull up his pants. When he finally looks at you, he is met with your kind smile. 

“Are you okay?”

A grin stretches across Eddie’s face. “Yeah. What about you?”

You giggle as you playfully toss your panties at his chest. “I’m ok. Better than ok, actually. Do you want to walk with me to my car?”

Eddie nods, quickly getting dressed as you grab your jacket and the work off your desk. As you ride down the elevator together, you reach over to hold his hand. You take note of the fact that this was the first time you had suddenly touched him and he didn’t flinch. 

When you get to your car, he opens the door for you. “Do you work tomorrow?”

“No, I’m only part time so I only work like 3 or 4 days.”

“Oh…then would you, maybe, want to come over and watch a movie or something?”

Eddie smiles as he nods. You dig in your purse for a pen and write your phone number on his hand. You start to get in your car but stop yourself, turning back to him. 

“Thank you for trusting me enough to show me this.” You place your palm on the outside of his shirt over one of the scars you know are there. “I know that must have been hard.”

His big hand covers yours as he leans down to kiss your lips. “Thank you for,” he shrugs as he blushes slightly, “being you.”

You laugh as you caress his cheek, giving him one last kiss before heading home.

[ghostherlig]

what do you think a swapped au would look like? like Johnny gets blinded, Kenshi might be a celebrity, etc

ohohoho i've been sitting on this ask all day bc it immediately planted a seed in my brain- i apologize if this gets long

the short version is i think kenshi would be a big thriller/horror actor, still lived and grew up in the yakuza but now has his clan out since he was able to buy sento on his own.

johnny would have also been caught up in a crime ring in the LA area where he did jobs as an assassin, probably did enough jobs for the big bosses to pass name around. i think post being blinded in outworld he would get his powers from mk11 and those would give him a better sense of the world without his vision.

for the most part their personalities would be the same, but i think kenshi would take on the more charming angle while johnny would be more brash and gruff-

the long/story version is, i think kenshi would be a big celebrity that did a lot of thriller or horror movies- i think he would still have grown up in the yakuza, still has all his tattoos and his incredible aura of tragedy, but i think he channels it into his films to aid in the story telling- casting people are always trying to get him to take roles for gangster movies but kenshi left that life and doesnt want to be part of a production that would just be one giant reminder of that

as for him not being blind, i want to say he ended up buying sento for the three million dollars and did use it to get his clan out of the yakuza- i think he owns a pretty big house that he shares with his older sister (personal hc) and that for the most part he's happy doing movies, though he's transitioning from working on screen to working off screen

when the time comes for him and johnny to be picked up by liu kang, i think they meet on accident-

johnny in this would be blind, but before he's blinded he and kenshi meet at a club or movie premiere. kenshi is there because that's who they're celebrating, and johnny is there to assassinate someone (maybe even kenshi .3.)

they get to talking and eventually kenshi convinces johnny to go home with him and the two would've spent the night together, except liu kang shows up with bi han and kuai liang and the two are whisked off to wu shi academy to train more

and then from there things progress as usual, johnny gets blinded by mileena and thrown into one of shang tsung's laboratory tables and whatever substances are on it get thrown together and johnny sits in it just a little too long-

they get down to the real lab and johnny is knocked out for most of their time down there, kenshi helping him stay on his feet and putting the medicine over his eyes, sliding his own sunglasses onto johnny's face to make him look a little more casual while they drag him out of there

after all of it ends i think they finally do eventually spend that night together, lol

thanks for the ask!! this is such a fun concept and i might even flesh it out more into a one shot or something, my goodness- <3

[featureenvyproductions]

my thoughts on how to do Basically Kinda cel animation but cheap as fuck. strap in this is a long post and there are many swears PART 1

Really long intro

ok so I was animating my thing the other month right, and I was going to infodump on how I do cel animation without the right training from the comfort of my chaotic mess of an office. But I got into it and I was like "my god, I'm going to have surgery in a few months and my gofundme has accumulated dust, I can't be buying fucking $1/each cels and more paint". that got me thinking like....MOST people are probably like "wow I'm broke as shit I can't do this" even if they want to, but I think you can, so I took a couple weekends to hurl myself face first into seeing if I could do this - the version for if you're broke as fuck or don't want to spend money.

Obviously if you want something good quality AND you don't want to make this a struggle, splurge on good supplies like real cels and paint if you have the money. But if you don't or you just want to fuck around, this info dump is for you.

Disclaimer: I'm not a professional (if you can't already tell lol 👀👀👀) and I have no idea if this is what cal arts would approve of or whatever the shit but to be brutally honest, I also don't give a fuck, they're too busy fulfilling their role as the gatekeepers of the human-expression-to-corporate-tax-write-off pipeline to watch your heartfelt if low res artistic expression so come join me in this pit and let's just do whatever the fuck we want with whatever we got.

My goal is to give you ideas so you too can do the fucking thing. It's not gonna be Snow White. It's not gonna even be Steamboat Willie. That's fine. The point is to do the thing anyway and make some shit you wouldn't have tried otherwise. (And share it with me here on the internet bc I'm bored and depressed. If you feel like it) because sure you can go and pull up your 2d animation software and rig some shit up and blow anything I can do by hand out of the water in about 3 min flat but THATS NOT THE POINT IS IT THE POINT IS THAT YOU TOO WANT TO EXPERIENCE ART AS SUFFERING AND MAYBE ALSO UNDERSTAND THAT SOFTWARE DOESNT MAKE ART FORMS OBSOLETE.

Anyway let me just stow this soap box under the counter real quick.

There.

K So I'm gonna go through how I tackled this challenge - cheap ass cel animation - starting with prep, then the drawing steps, then getting the shit into some form where you can put all the frames together.

Prerequisite suggestion

This ramble assumes that you at least vaguely understand how drawing works and understand the basic idea of how animation works. How to animate overall - like the principals of animation- is a wee bit outside the scope of this post, in no small part because I know there are a BILLION people out there who understand those principles and execute them better than I do. I think I followed some of Aaron Blaise's videos to learn, but there are also other tutorials on YouTube. I also just learned from watching pencil tests and filming references of my long suffering friend in which i gave her instructions like "ok NOW put your hands on your hips dramatically in the direction of that rock". But yeah like I said the principals of animation themselves are better off taught by someone who isn't me (and I'm honestly still practicing).

Alright that's enough intro. Let's start with setup

FINALLY THE INGREDIENTS LIST

Most of the stuff in this ?tutorial? is really probably honestly laying around your house right now, especially if you live with any 50+ people who have ever had an office job. But I will talk about costs anyway in case you're starting from scratch. I found pretty much all of the stuff at Dollar Tree, and yeah, it's not an ideal place to go, but also this is a tutorial for if you're broke. And also unlike things that you have to repeatedly buy that cost you more per unit in the long run, most things you are using here are one time necessities, so you really are saving money. ....Now I'm in the US. If you're not in the US, I think there are also similar stores in other places....It'll be similar to something like if there's a shop that sells stuff for 1-2 euro or whatever. Things at dollar tree range from about 1-5 bucks, but I managed this with the $1.25 items (some were actually less than that but I lost track of my receipt).

You will need the following shit for part 1 of this vaguely educational series:

The smallest cheapest strand of fairy lights you can get. Mine were battery powered, doesn't really matter either way. If you can get white ones get white ones. (I could Not find white ones :/)*

Batteries if they need batteries *

An 8.5x11 drawing pad (at the dollar store I got the 64 pg one)

A translucent container with a flat bottom. I got a little 8x12 storage basket for this. You probably can't get anything big at the dollar store but try to get something with a bottom as close to the drawing pad size as possible (it's ok if it's a little smaller) *

Scissors (or a knife/craft knife you don't mind destroying. You may want safety goggles if you don't have them. These also exist in dollar tree)**

Clear tape**

Something small and tube like. Maybe plastic straws. I actually used flagpoles from those tiny flags, you know the ones (ok these in the picture are NOT from dollar tree and i will provide excuses later on in this document. You could also use straws i think)

Hole punch

Super glue (or the strongest adhesive you can otherwise get if this isn't available to you)**

pencils (I don't know why I didn't take a picture of them but you're on the gay art website I feel like you've probably seen a pencil in your life)

sharpie (you'll use it more later but you might as well get it now)

A pack of sheet protectors (you may or may not need more depending on how many frames you're doing but for now one will do but for this first part you only need one)

* this is part of an optional component but you WANT TO HAVE IT TRUST ME

**if you are REALLY not in the mood to buy these things and you don't need the tape/scissors for the above optional item, you can technically just go to FedEx and like make a cheap b/w self serve photocopy of something to avoid the employees yelling at you and then quickly go use their choppy thing and the tape and scissors they have laying around in the self serve area. They may have a hole punch too idk

And now FOR THE MAKING PART

First thing to make: substitute peg bar

Some things I'm doing here are optional, but the one that really isn't is the peg bar. That's the thing that keeps all your stuff lined up. Without this your frames are going to be moving all over the place and movements won't register the right way. It's got (if you couldn't guess) pegs on it. And these match up with the holes in your paper or cels.

This is a real peg bar

I think this is like 16-20 bucks if you buy it on Amazon, maybe a smidge cheaper if you go through someone else (I will discuss traditional animation supplies for when you're NOT broke as shit in another post). The problem is that this is for acme punched paper (notice how two of the holes are long). Yes it helps things register better, but we're going to be punching our own paper and a 700 dollar acme punch is NOT in our budget today.

There is a version of a peg bar you can get that fits normal hole punch holes. But this isn't the buy things the easy way tutorial, this is the broke as fuck tutorial. So we're going to be making this shit.

Steps to make the thing (I'm sorry about this list not being numbered apparently even when you fuck with the html directly you can't put images in a numbered list on this webbed site):

Ok first we need some cardboard or cardstock. Something sturdier than regular paper. OH GUESS WHAT WE HAVE THAT. If you don't have other stuff to use laying around, take all the backing cardstock off the drawing pad. Be careful to keep as much of the adhesive stuff left on the actual paper as possible.

We're going to cut that into strips. Keep them as straight as possible. They should be like 1/2-3/4 in wide.

(You may want to skip ahead in the steps a bit to see how we're using this so when we use tape in this step you can avoid putting it where the pegs go. You don't have to but things will stick better) Stack them and tape them together as tightly as possible. This will be the bar part of the bar.

Take one of your page protectors and place it on the bar and try to center the middle hole on the bar. Trace that hole onto the bar and pick two others to trace (pick circle ones that fit entirely onto the bar).

Now we make the pegs. You will use the flags for this (or straws, see flags and note in the Ingredients TM list) So I actually had these pride flags from Walmart (please remember we are trying to stay dirt fucking cheap here, I promise I don't usually go to Walmart at all.) Bc my dollar tree doesn't have them yet, HOWEVER I KNOW THEY WILL BECAUSE IVE GOTTEN THEM BEFORE so technically by the time I finish writing this you will be able to get them there most likely. Now the great thing about cheap flags is they're cheap. That means they use shitty hollow plastic tubes as poles. That's great for us because we are going to snip off the ends and use them as pegs. You want to measure up a 1/2 inch from the bottom and cut them. Do this on 3 SEPARATE flags, because you want at least one perfectly flat end for each (that's likely the factory end, so keep track of which end that is). You can also use plastic straws for this probably, or paper sticks for thick lolly pops. The idea is whatever you use needs to fit the page protector holes.

Take your super glue or other adhesive and put a little on the "pegs" and attach them (factory side down) to the bar where you marked the holes in step 4. (note that the pic shows that I taped both this and the thing you're making next to the leftover cardstock to keep it all together, which is an option but you don't have to if you like to suffer)

Let this dry while we work on the next part.

Second thing to make: "light box" (I use this term COMICALLY loosely. Optional but you will have an easier life if you have one)

This is the LED Light pad I use for animating. If you can afford like 30 bucks, just splurge and get one. It helps you cheat and see your previous pencil drawings under the current one so you can better draw the current frame. (And before you ask yes I know it looks like I dug it out of apocalypse aftermath rubble I will not be taking criticism at this time,,,,)

If you can't afford that, we're going to MacGyver together a little apparatus that works basically the same way. The "we have LED light box at home" if you will.

(I mean you can also just tape a peg bar to a window and go at it which is free but your arms are going to hurt drawing like that. You can also just get really good at page flipping while drawing. I am NOT good at that )

Steps to make the thing:

Remember how I made you get a plastic container with as flat of a bottom as possible? (It can be flat on the inside or outside bottom doesn't matter) We're going to mutilate that. Put on your safety glasses if you have them and you're scissor-cutting something that tends to crack rather than bend because the occasional plastic shard will fly off. Cut the sides off the container. It's probably easier with a knife but I was all about suffering. Try to get as much of the sides off as possible. It's ok to leave some of them if that's the side you'll have facing down. (For me my container had an annoying hard to cut rim on the bottom so I just decided to cut the sides off entirely and have that side down).

Take your fairy lights out and unwind them. If you have battery powered ones... Pry the cheap little battery compartment open (you can see there's a screw driver there so use one if you have it but this plastic is so cheap you'll probably be able to just bend the cover and pry it open and rotate it out of the way tbh) and stick the batteries in. We do this first to make sure the lights work before we waste time using them.

Cut a little notch in the side of your plastic piece where the wires can go.

Flip your plastic piece so that the side facing you is the side you want facing down the rest of the time when you're actually drawing on this thing.

Feed the wire from the battery box (or coming off the plug if no battery box) through the little notch , with the battery box OUTSIDE the plastic area, and tape the wire in place.

Now arrange the strand so you have as even as possible a distribution of lights all over the plastic, and tape the wires down to hold the arrangement in place.

Flip it back over and switch it on. Voila shitty light box. Now you can't put a lot of PRESSURE on this but it'll do the job. You can see like 1-2 previous images through it too believe it or not. And this is with these horrible yellow lights I found, if you have brighter ones it should be more effective. (Now switch it off so you don't eat battery life)

Now let's get the paper ready

Now that the first part of your setup is done you need shit to do your pencil tests/preliminary animation on. (The thing you'll eventually trace onto the cel)

Take the paper you removed the backing from. We're going to mark and punch it. We'll be punching from the ADHESIVE/PERFORATED SIDE. This is important because it will help keep the pages and therefore holes aligned when we take the hole punch after it.

Here's how you go about it for the best result in my humble opinion:

If you made your peg bar as above, you've already removed the cardstock cover of your cheap drawing pad so go to step 2. If you haven't, then remove the cardstock cover/backing from your pad now. Try to keep the adhesive intact as much as you possibly can (basically you want to keep the pages from slipping when you eventually punch them so they need to stay in a neat little stack. If you're having trouble or you're having to use a different type of paper such as ink jet paper, you can probably also achieve this with binder clips in a pinch- is that what they're called? the black things? look like 90s butterfly hair things if you squint? Just make sure the paper is stacked evenly and the stack is held firmly together. )

Still trying to keep the adhesive holding the stack together as much as possible, carefully separate the paper into 2 or 3 smaller stacks. (ignore the hole markings in this picture I took it after I realized I needed to demonstrate this step)

Take one stack and put one of the sheet protectors over it, lining the side with the holes up so that that edge is along the perforation in the drawing paper (if you're using a different type of paper than the dollar store pad, line the edge of the sheet protector up with the edge of the paper, but move it about 1/8th to 1/4th inch away from the edge. basically you don't want the holes right on the edge of the paper). Trace the holes onto the paper with a pen or pencil. (Note: if you're using a manufactured peg bar, use that to determine the hole placement instead of a sheet protector - it'll be easier to modify the holes in sheet protectors if necessary later).

Carefully, keeping the stack of paper all lined up and together, punch each of your three holes with the hole punch. (The reason you made stacks is that do you really want to do this with each individual page? I didn't think so)

Ok Let's Try It Out!!

Alright here's a shot of me using this to draw some frames from my animation about some creepy deer (coming soon to a feature envy productions official tumblr near you). You take some paper and carefully place it on the pegs, sketch a key frame, and then place another sheet over that on the pegs, switch on the "light box" and sketch the next key frame, referencing the first one. (Oh and of course make sure you're drawing on the smooth side - not the side you taped the lights to). Like I said, this is definitely like. If you have no other options you might as well try it - You generally can see through about 3 sheets of paper in a dark room. At least the key areas. So you should be able to in between with this setup as well. Not great but hey! If you're on a strict budget, you can still do this, and it beats buying a bunch of expensive shit on Amazon. I'm pretty confident that most people have almost all of these items laying around their house like I said, but let's break it down - If you're like me and you animate at 24 fps but on 3s, that's an average of 8 frames per second. So for each pad of dollar store paper, you're getting about 8 seconds of animation (maybe more, maybe less). You can factor that in when deciding how many drawing pads to purchase (keep in mind if your backgrounds are very simple, you may be able to use the additional cardstock for this purpose as well instead of using up sheets of paper).

Stay tuned because we're not done yet!

Part 2 will be Inking and painting. (Note: on the day I'm writing this I have a placeholder post there, but if it's still a placeholder when you look, please keep checking, I will add the second part, I just didn't want someone to have to HUNT for it if you're looking at this from like a year from now) Yes ink and paint. You didn't think I was getting you all excited for a vine's worth of pencil tests were you? no we're doing the whole expensive process from pencils to final product. And I'm going to show you the cheapest way I could figure out.