#tools storage wall

[betterbemeta]

Right now I'm going through the process of moving a 1 bedroom apartment interstate in the USA. It's a fairly long move of over 1000 miles. I have far less stuff than what you'd expect for a house, and we are moving our desktop computers in our car vs. in a moving truck.

This is to move to a state where the same money could get us a 2 bedroom apartment vs. a 1 bedroom. I pay more than many people's mortgages every month already, but saving money for an actual house's down payment is impossible where I currently live because of the cost of housing. So we're going someplace cheaper.

But the lowest quote for moving services I could find was still over $4,500. And no, not everybody can learn to drive a U-haul on short notice.

I of course want everyone involved to earn a living wage, duh, but thinking about housing instability in the USA right now is crazy. Homelessness in the USA is at the highest rate it's ever been. Many people who DO have access to housing are living out of 1 room with barely any personal space and barely any time to spend in that space between transportation and multiple jobs. Some may be made to move once a year due to rising rents or short-term leases. They can't afford to have belongings; the mattress in a box industry is booming because so many people must get rid of Everything relatively frequently, and 'a bed' is one of the few things people can't do without.

So it doesn't surprise me that instead of investing $2,000 on a solid desktop computer, that $2,000 will go to a phone instead. It can go in your pocket. Or maybe you're leasing a phone, if you can't afford that kind of investment (it'll cost more than $2,000 over time though!)

I 100% agree that it's harder to build not just digital understanding on a phone, but to create rather than just be an endpoint passive audience for ads. Photo-video content are maybe the only thing phones 'can do better' than a desktop can (because a camera/videocamera are part of the device itself), which explains many current trends in online media. But even that is mostly limited to footage and photos you took yourself. Meaning, it's harder for your phone to replace a shelf of DVDs or music CDs of media you bought and owned; you'll probably be subscribing to Netflix, or using Spotify there rather than storing, editing, sharing any corporate IP content. Goodbye, teenage-craft AMVs made with Windows Movie Maker!

My point is that a world where you can be made to move at any time, and every time you move its an extreme expense for most people, is a world that further discourages having any physical things and dovetails devilishly with a world where you don't have any non-physical things either. Just a portal to 'access' things for different fees: a total landlord-ification. A liquid world is going to destroy not just computer skills, but just about any skills that aren't subsidized by a public education that provides a space, tools, and knowledge to learn without an entry fee. And as government funds for schooling also diminish, those will become out of reach for more people, too.

this can't be true can it

[tessabryan]

Medium Garage in Toronto Large attached two-car carport image

[gleekschoiceawards]

Large, conventional, attached three-car garage design Garage - large traditional attached three-car garage idea

[httyd-mc-pl-twilight]

Driveway Driveway Inspiration for a large traditional partial sun side yard mulch landscaping in spring.

[voleuri]

Industrial Basement in Denver Inspiration for a mid-sized industrial walk-out concrete floor and gray floor basement remodel with gray walls, a ribbon fireplace and a tile fireplace

[nick-momrik]

Ryobi Tool Storage

[rilayagifs]

Living Room Formal (New York)

[multch]

Caught.

Art the clown x Reader [18+]

CW: Smut\ afab Reader

Pt.1 (Thoughts)

Art just caught you red-handed pleasuring yourself but he doesn't seem to react… at first.

There stood Art the clown, leaning up against the wall with a shit eating grin- Oh God no.

Oh God no.

It was in this moment, you felt as small as a starved mouse. Has he always towered over you?

Holding your breath, your gaze hesitantly lifted to meet with his eyes.

Surely he couldn’t hear you in there… And obviously he couldn’t have been waiting outside the whole time.. right?

But what if he had. Would he be disgusted? His face contorted into a disturbed grimace. Could it change your relationship? Would he be so enraged as to consider you his next victim- ready to skin you with his bare hands. Gosh why did you ever think that was a good idea! 

Your lust was your hamartia- the trigger that would spiral into your gruesome demise; a death without an ounce of dignity.

It was as if that doorway was a picture frame holding- you- a moment frozen in time. Your face was flushed bright red and your chest heaved up and down as if you had just ran a marathon. 

Your eyes were wide in shock and pure terror.

As your gaze met his, you couldn’t help but sigh as he walked right past you. How could he be so calm? His smirk dropped as he practically shrugged you off as if you were translucent- as if you weren’t there…

What the hell?!

*

There it layed unfinished. It would only take you a few minutes to stitch back up the final rip.

Across your desk were numerous tools you used throughout the night; The jacket you worked on mere hours ago, several pairs of sharp fabric scissors and an array of pins and needles strung with thread.

Despite the busy crowd of your work-station, you remained alone. 

Where could he be?

*

You looked up at the cheap clock sitting on the wall; 2:15am.

Clutched carefully in your hand, you carried his newly repaired costume with you. When you would return it to him, you would finally be able to go home- that is if you could find him…

It was your 4th time circling around the store and only one thought remained in your mind; 

Where on earth was that damn clown!?

Walking into storage, you were met with the familiar dark and dusty sight you dreaded seeing so often. Luckily, since meeting Art, you were able to evade stock retrieval long enough during your shifts to delegate it to him at night. Unfortunately, every once in a while you would still have to venture out back during the day when issues were too urgent. 

It wasn't rare for liminal spaces to creep you out so the avoidance was understood with a few simple honks of a horn. 

“Hey Art… you in here?” You shivered.

The room was cramped and lined with unstable wire shelving overflowing with cardboard boxes of various sizes. As there were no windows, who knew what could be hiding in the shadows. 

As your eyes adjusted to make out shapes within the darkness, your hand crept around the wall beside you for a light switch.

Aha! There it was.

As you went to flick the switch your heart suddenly dropped.

That’s not the switch… 

Two cold hands grabbed your arm in an instant, pulling you towards a firm chest.

Shit!

“Art! Oh my goodness I am so sorry,” you blurted, “I was just looking for the lightswitch, I didn’t mean to-” 

While what you could see was limited, what you knew was abundant. Your cheeks burned up as you realized what you just did. You didn’t flick the lightswitch, you just hit Art’s nipple- god that’s so embarrassing! You practically screamed at yourself.

What did you drag yourself into! First you think he caught you finger fucking yourself to the thought of him. Now you're in a dark storage cupboard and he's completely naked! 

It's not even his fault, you sighed. You're the one carrying his repaired clothes- Damn it! You should've given him something to wear- you work in a costume shop for christ’s sake!

There, you continued to ramble on and on. Uttering something about an extra Santa costume. Suddenly, you gasped as Art pulled you closer towards himself.

Oh.

Seems like Art noticed your distraction and gave you something else to think about. Yes, he was naked but that didn't interest you when you knew you could lean into the tenderness of his sharp touch.

It ran through you- that burning, stinging sensation everywhere his skin touched yours. He was frozen. He kept pulling you closer into his chest like he needed you to survive. Like your warmth was addictive.

His arms wrapped around you like a snake while he tucked your legs between his thighs.

You looked up at him only to be met with the same shit-eating grin as last time.

What a pervert.

He was infectious. Once you had laid eyes on those disgusting tar black teeth and dark doe eyes, it was as if a command came over your soul. The corners of your lips unconsciously lifted into a smile. Maybe you would take advantage of this proximity for once…

Laying a quick peck on his bottom lip, you chuckled as you knew his facepaint had transferred to your own.

Art always knew how to make you laugh as he reared back to make an exaggerated shocked face. Quickly, he returned the offer by giving you a toothy grin before smashing his lips into yours.

Driving your bodies forward and away from the initial wall, Art bites your bottom lip as a plea for entry. Your back arches against the shelving as he pushes into the kiss. You let him- loving each and every second of pure bliss. 

His tongue explored every inch, every tooth, every surface. It felt like you two stayed like that for eternity. It was as if once you would open your eyes, the night would be long gone.

You winced when you were forced to pull yourself away- heaving large gasps for air. 

You couldn’t believe it. First thing you’re working a simple 9-5 and next thing you know you’re making out with the most infamous murderer in all of New York. The thought was enough to send a surge of energy rising through you.

But is this all? It’s been 3 whole years where you’ve spent countless nights fantasizing about and being subject to his mindless antics. 3 whole years. 

You swallow the lump in your throat as you turn back to Art, placing your palm against his hollow cheek. 

Whatever, you were happy to finally show your devotion to him at last…

As your lips hover over his, you gaze into his eyes. Pitch black with not a soul in sight, yet a carefulness he held while looking back at you. Back at you until… 

You felt a strange sensation graze against your thigh.

It was in the moment you learnt it was possible for the white clown to turn a subtle shade of pink. 

His eyes dodged down as he seemed to shuffle slightly further away. Choosing to hide in the shadows again, Art took a couple hefty steps backwards until all you could make out was the outline of his prominent features within the shadows.

“Oh shit..” you uttered under your breath. Art was hard. Oh my goodness, Art was hard and embarrassed. 

Weighing up the pros and cons, you quickly bit the bullet and made up your mind. You were going to take that risk even if it could cost you your life. Art was everything you wanted and more. He had been so helpful over the past few years, you thought he deserved a small favor in return.

Stepping across the small storage room, you land in front of him- placing your hands on his chest. His skin was frigid and without a pulse.

“I can help you with that,” you whisper into his ear.

Despite the quick shocked expression Art played with, it was as if you caught his sincerity for a second before he snaped back into miming an over-emphasized swooning motion; fanning himself with his hand before pretending to faint.

His eyes stare far into yours as if seeking reassurance before acting on his own accord.

You nodded. Falling to your knees, you steadied yourself with both hands holding onto his legs. 

There it was. 

While you had seen it plenty of times, you had never imagined it from this angle. It was ample in length and wide in thickness. The sight was enough to make your mouth water.

You carefully grip the base and work your hands up and down his shaft before placing it in your mouth.

Paying attention to every ridge and bump, you slide your tongue across his length. As you begin bobbing your head back and forth, you look up to find Art’s embarrassment is long gone.

His eyes are shut tight and his mouth gapes open like he's lost for words. (if he had any, that is)

While you pulled closer and closer towards the base of his cock with every thrust, Art put his hands on the crown of your head, pulling you further into him.

Sliding down your throat, you gagged as Art thrusted his shaft into the roof of your mouth. 

For someone so shy before, he’s taking control of this alot more than you expected..

Drool pools at the corners of your mouth, dribbling slowly down your chin. Art takes notice and drags his hand down to wipe it with his shaky thumb.

Fuck- he was so far down the back of your throat, you swore it was a miracle you were till breathing by now.

Thick white ropes coated the walls of your mouth. The action sent you bucking back as it forced you into a coughing fit. God was he bitter tasting.

He flung back before patting your head. It felt degrading- almost as if you were his pet in need of praise after completing a trick.

Lifting your gaze to look up at him, he sends back a dramatic shocked face before shifting to his usual wide grin.

As you stuck your tongue out, you chuckled before swallowing his seed.

*

Zipp! And that was the last of it. All that was left was to lock up the store and you were done. Your desk was cleaned, your repairs were finished and your clown friend was very happy. 

While you loved your job, you were terribly excited to finally go home and have a long rest (maybe even a sweet treat too)

You let out a chuckle as you watched the live footage displayed on the security cameras. Despite being colorless and grainy, the expression on Art’s face was clear as day. There, he waved into the camera- his face imitating the pure joy of a small child* in a candy store; with a large smile and immense energy radiating from him.

(*As pure as he can get considering he’s a murderous hell spawn, but we won’t talk about that…)

He tipped his tiny top hat towards the camera, then swiftly turned on his heels to face the exit.

Ding! Ding! Ding! The bell rang out as Art made his exit, and it was as if he had suddenly vanished.

You couldn’t wait for tomorrow… 

Maybe work could be a bit more exciting from now on, you thought.

[colebabey888]

Organize Your Life with Tips for a Stylish, Productive Space | IT GIRL DIARIES

In today's fast-paced world, staying organized and productive while keeping a stylish space is essential. Creating an environment that feels fresh, clean, and aesthetically pleasing can boost motivation and mental clarity.

Here's how you can organize your life and space like an "IT girl" to keep your productivity on point :

1. Keep It Clean and Clutter-free 🫧🧼

A clutter-free space reflects a clutter-free mind. Dedicate time each week to tidying up your environment. Pay special attention to your bed and work areas, where you spend the most time. Clean pillows regularly to promote good skin and hair health. A clean space not only looks chic but also fosters a sense of calm and order.

2. Incorporate Fresh and Greenery 🍏🪴

Fresh air and greenery can transform any room. Consider adding indoor plants or fresh flowers to your living space. If you’re into healthy habits, you can even take it further by preparing a daily green juice with spinach, kale, cucumber, and other vibrant ingredients to match the aesthetic! This not only adds color but helps maintain a healthy body and mind.

3. Stylish Organization Tools 📖📕

Invest in minimalistic, stylish storage solutions—think sleek organizers, chic bins, or gold-accented trays. Everything should have its place, from your skincare products to supplements like magnesium and zinc. Neat storage keeps your space looking polished and makes it easier to find everything you need.

4. Create a Wellness Corner 🧖🏽‍♀️

Set up a small area for your self-care routine. This could include your skincare products, supplements, a diffuser, and even a cozy chair for relaxing. This space can help you stay on top of your health habits, like drinking hot lemon water in the morning or taking your daily zinc and ashwagandha for stress relief.

5. Stay Hydrated and Energized 💧

Stylish glass water bottles or tumblers not only keep you hydrated but also serve as chic desk accessories. Infuse your water with lemon or fruit for added variety, and always keep it within reach while you work. Hydration is key to staying energized and productive throughout the day.

6. Incorporate a Fitness Routine🏋️

Your space should encourage movement and wellness. Keep a section free for indoor workouts like cycling or skipping, which you can do even if you're busy. A stylish yoga mat or exercise equipment can blend into your decor while reminding you to stay active.

7. Aesthetic Motivation

Use wall art, vision boards, or inspirational quotes that reflect your goals. Choose colors and designs that align with your personal style to keep your space motivating. Keeping your goals visible can help you stay productive, whether it's maintaining your fitness routine or sticking to a clean eating plan.

____

[elikajinnie]

I Let The World Burn For You - N.R

P: Serial Killer!Ni-ki X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Graphic Descriptions, Murder, Manipulation, Attempted Murder, Injury/Blood, Teasing, Angst, Obsessive Behaviour, Bullying, Mind Games, Ni-ki is a nerd.

Synopsis: You’ve always loved crime shows, captivated by the mystery and mind games, but you never expected to live in one. When a killer develops an unsettling obsession with you, you’re thrust into a deadly game where you’re not just a target—you’re the centerpiece.

note! i have just finished 1/2 exams and i got a shining A+ (thanks to the allnighters) so i finally got more time to write :) requested by @totallynotj3zz

READ THE TEASER BELOW

Read part 1 and 2 at the end

--

You stumble down the creaking, narrow staircase, your breath coming in ragged gasps as panic claws at your chest. Tears blur your vision, streaking your face as the blood on your trembling hands smears across the banister. You don’t dare look back. You can’t.

Above you, his voice echoes through the decaying walls, low and mocking, sending chills down your spine.

“Run all you want,” he calls, his tone light, almost playful. “You know I’ll catch you.”

Your foot catches on a loose board, nearly sending you sprawling, but you grip the railing and push yourself forward. His words follow you, slithering into your ears like poison.

“You can’t hide from me. You know that, don’t you? I’ll always find you. Always.”

The air is heavy with the smell of dust and mildew, but it does nothing to muffle his voice.

“You and that little curiosity of yours,” he sneers, his footsteps steady and unhurried. “That’s what got you into this mess. You wanted to see what was behind the curtain, didn’t you?”

Your heart pounds in your chest, your legs screaming in protest as you take the steps two at a time.

“No one else deserves you,” he continues, his voice dipping into something darker, more possessive. “Only me. And if I can’t have you…”

You swallow back a sob as his words twist, their meaning sharp as a blade.

“…then no one can.”

Your foot hits the landing, and you dart into the next corridor, the peeling wallpaper and flickering lights a blur around you. Still, his voice lingers, wrapping around you like a noose.

“You’ll be mine in the end. You know it. Why keep running, darling? Why deny the inevitable?”

You bite down on your lip to stifle the cry threatening to escape. The hallway stretches endlessly before you, and the sound of his steps—slow, deliberate—echoes closer, as if he’s right behind you.

Your chest burns as you push forward, forcing your legs to move despite the overwhelming ache. The hallway feels endless, the dim, flickering lights above casting warped shadows that seem to close in on you. Each creak of the floorboards behind you makes your heart skip a beat, his taunting voice dripping into your ears like acid.

“You can’t run forever,” he hums, his tone like a lullaby meant to unsettle. “Every step you take just brings you closer to me. Don’t you see? This is fate. You were made for me.”

A sob escapes you before you can stifle it, your body betraying the terror that threatens to consume you whole. You glance frantically over your shoulder, but the staircase behind you is empty. He isn’t there, and yet his voice sounds as if it’s just over your shoulder, like he’s breathing down your neck.

You shove open a door at the end of the hall, the old wood groaning on its hinges as you stumble into what looks like a storage room. Rusted tools hang on the walls, their edges sharp and unforgiving, glinting faintly in the pale light from a single bare bulb swaying overhead. Your breath catches as you scan the room, desperately searching for a way out.

“There you go,” he purrs, his voice impossibly close now, like he’s whispering directly into your ear. “Hide, if it makes you feel safer. I like when you play hard to get. It makes it so much sweeter when I finally catch you.”

You slam the door shut and lock it, your shaking hands fumbling with the rusted bolt. The sound of his footsteps grows louder, heavier now, deliberate in their approach. You back away from the door, your eyes darting around the room. The windows are boarded up, thick planks of wood nailed across the frames, no hope of escape.

Your breathing is shallow, uneven. Your hands curl into fists, fingernails biting into your palms as you try to will yourself to think. Focus. Focus.

Then, silence.

The footsteps stop. His voice is gone.

Your heart pounds in the stillness, the quiet almost worse than his taunts. You strain your ears, listening for anything—any sign of movement, any sound that could tell you where he is. But there’s nothing.

A soft knock on the door shatters the quiet, making you jump back with a gasp.

“Are you scared?” he asks, his voice calm now, almost tender. “You don’t need to be. I’ll take care of you. I’ll make this quick.”

The doorknob jiggles. Once. Twice. Then, a violent bang as he slams against the door, rattling the frame.

You scramble backward, your hands blindly reaching for anything, and they land on something cold and solid—a wrench, heavy and covered in dust.

Another bang. The bolt starts to bend under the pressure.

“I’m coming in, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a sickening glee. “Let’s end this little game, shall we?”

The door bursts open, and there he is, silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway, his figure towering, his shadow stretching across the floor like it’s ready to swallow you whole.

But you’re ready this time. Your grip tightens on the wrench, and as he steps into the room, you swing.

--

Read the request here

Read part 1 here and part 2 here

[dadsbongos]

dungeon meshi gave me an excuse to write clone porn

2.6 k words / warnings - readers have boobs and vagina, oral (laios + reader receiving), thigh fucking, porn without plot like none at all, not proofread + written while sleep deprived

summary - on your honeymoon, you and laios have a special kind of shapeshifter encounter

~~~

“Who keeps two towels in the whole house?” you grumble, pulling on the shoes you’d kicked off just minutes ago.

“Like I said, they probably keep some in the shed,” Laios is directly behind you, shoes on and wired to step outside, “Vacation houses out here are rare, but their sheds are more useful for storage than farming tools.”

“Still, did they not think to prepare a little more?” your frustration is not so easily tempered, “They knew a king was coming, didn’t they?”

“I’m sure they did,” Laios opens the front door for you, ushering you outside, “Marcille seemed pretty sure she set this up nicely for us. It’s just a short walk around the back, I could go by myself if you want to finish showering?”

His suggestion makes you sigh, you shake your head, huddling closer to him as chilled wind scathes your damp skin, “I’m just annoyed, it’s nothing for me to be so hostile about… Sorry for losing my mind.”

“I don’t mind,” he smooches the crown of your head and ventures around the house. You chase after, having to keep a hand dragging along the wall to avoid tripping.

“Laios!” you wail, unable to make him out with gray clogging your whole vision, “Laios!”

“Yeah?” you slam into his chest, letting out a muted ‘oomf!’ at the impact.

“It’s so foggy out here,” you grumble.

“It is, guess I forgot how terrible it could be.”

“Dunno how you could forget anything like this.”

Laios groans in irritation at the weather, blindly reaching out until he’s got a hand on your shoulder. Once he’s certain of your position, he reaches out again, “Here, take my hand, I don’t want you to get separated from me.”

You take the hand extended and let Laios tug you towards the shed. By the time you’re inside and the hanging overhead lantern is lit, a sudden discovery is made.

There are two extra bodies among you. You hold one Laios, and the Laios across from you holds the hand of your copy.

A gasp echoes through the room, distinctly Laios-like in passion.

Seems a monster has crossed your paths.

One Laios is taller, a mere two inches, and you think if you really stare that same Laios’ chest is slightly bigger too. He’s also smiling, beaming really, right off the bat while the second Laios’ excitement is more contained to shaking hands and meek giggles. To be fair to both, they thought they’d never see a monster again so you let the strange giddy slide.

However, your duplicate is scary in how precisely Laios remembers you. Your hair is a bit bouncier and lips more glossy than current, but she’s undeniably accurate. Its legs, the swell of its breasts, the mold of its waist -- almost as though you’re gazing through a mirror.

“This would probably be easier if it wasn’t just us,” you think aloud, looking at the two Laioses only to see them poking and prodding at one another.

“They don’t seem too keen on figuring out which is which,” your copy mumbles, earning a glare from you.

“It’s a shapeshifter!” the slightly shorter Laios (who you’re now electing to dub Laios A) shouts, “I haven’t seen one of these in forever! I thought I never would again!”

The other one, Laios B, nods and yanks Laios A’s hair experimentally, then groping his bicep, “It really feels just like I do! Soft, but firm skin and the hair texture’s exactly right!”

As if thinking in sync, the pair slowly turn towards the yous. Four hands turn unto you both to squeeze and roll down the planes of your body. Or, bodies, considering they’re petting down your copy as well.

“Practically identical!” Laios A squeals, kissing your cheek then your copy’s, “Even the plumpness of their cheeks feel the same!”

“Glad you’re having fun,” your dupe cuts in, “but shouldn’t we try getting rid of the fakes before they get rid of us?”

Oh, that little wench.

“Let Laios have fun,” you smack its arm, “You should know this is rare for him now.”

“That attitude’s terrible! He could die if we keep messing around!” it glares at you with an accusatory finger-wag, “I bet you want us to waste time, you fake!”

“You’re the fake, you fake!”

Laios A has to restrain you with both arms around your waist -- while Laios B does the same for your shifter -- to prevent you from knocking a fist into its stupid, fake face.

“There’s gotta be a way to figure out which ones the real one without breaking into fights,” Laios B fusses, hugging the shifter tighter to soothe her. Which, in turn, only agitates you more because what if that Laios is the real one, and he’s in horrible danger holding that monster?!

“We can’t just cut ourselves open,” Laios A’s chest reverberates at your back, then his hand skims down the front of your stomach, fingertips dipping just beneath your waistband, “But maybe we could tell each other’s behaviors apart some other way…”

“Oh, so it’s like that?” you tilt your head back to stare up at Laios A.

He nods, terminally serious despite the pinkish hue trailing from his cheeks to his neck, “It’s like that,” he then darts his eyes between you and your copy, “Can we?”

The real question seems to be: can you two get along for now?

Are you so devoted to Laios that you’re willing to play nice with something so grating?

You sigh and reach up to cup Laios A’s cheek, “Yeah, we can.”

Both Laioses rush to undo the tie of their trousers, only to be stopped by you and your copy -- the two of you falling onto your knees, creeping hands under Laios’ shirt and beneath his pants.

Yanking the soft material down to unveil thick thighs, Laios A above you gasps quietly at the cool air brushing his exposed skin. Your lips climb the meat of his leg, noting that Laios B’s thighs are looking a little rounder. Not that it matters, you’ll gladly bite and suck both.

Fingers dancing along the apple of your cheek redirect your attention, Laios A’s face tinged crimson. You smooch the bone of his hip, nails scaling along the back of his thighs to pull him closer. Beside your face, his cock hardens, color deepening towards his mushroom tip; he keens for more attention, unintentionally smearing leaky precum over your face as his erection twitches. You smooth a thumb along his underside before chastly pecking the weepy head.

Laios B’s hands strip your copy’s shirt, lifting it to paw at its breasts. He kisses down the column of its neck before reaching out for you as well. Rising onto your feet, you run your hands up Laios B’s back to shirk off his top -- Laios A awkwardly lingering behind your clone. His hands find the waistband of its pants, snaking beneath the lip to plunge into its panties.

You press a kiss to Laios B, he doesn’t turn to return the affection, but you recover quickly by pulling down both you and your duplicate’s bottoms. Laios A’s neck cranes over your copy’s shoulder to snatch your lips for himself. Laios B’s hands warm and calloused from labor as they careen up your waist to rid you of your shirt as well. He sucks a violet array from your shoulder to jaw, grinding his turgid girth between your thighs -- your wetness welcoming him.

Laios A moans at the sight of himself thrusting along your soaked slit, fingers quickening inside your copy until its own slick is rolling towards the floor. While Laios B releases muted groans and puffs into your ear.

“Need to be inside you,” Laios A whines, kissing your copy’s lips before striding past all three of you towards the center of the room. Laios B and you tilt to watch him.

Laios A quickly flattens his back against the floor, cobblestone acclimating to his rising body heat, he pulls you down by the waist -- then beckoning your copy via wave. One of his hands cradles your waist while the other smoothes along your copy’s thigh. Silently urging it to kneel over his face, all while his twitching cock bobs toward the apex of your thighs.

“Want to know if here’s the same, too,” Laios A murmurs into your dupe’s thighs, sharply jerking his hips towards yours.

Suddenly, large hands are burrowing into the thicket of your hair, swerving your eyes to Laios B. Your tongue lulls in time with your copy, lips brushing hers around the base of Laios B’s flushed head. Needily, he mushes your faces together, thrusting between the wet cavern of your mouths. Hands just as soft as yours slither beneath you to work Laios A inside you. Laios A snaps his knees up, feet on the floor, to aid your copy’s effort. His hips buck up, punching air from your chest as he pops into your hole.

A louder mewl slithers past your copy’s lips, Laios A’s tongue lathering its slit before pausing at its clit, bathing the bud in extra attention. His thumbs splay it open just for easier access to tongue-fuck. Meanwhile, your sleepy bouncing rhythm is interrupted by abrupt, sharp humping throwing you off balance. The only reason you don’t fall over is Laios B stubbornly holds your head still, fucking the sodden gap between yours and your clone’s faces; otherwise leaving you to your own devices. You manage to catch yourself on Laios A’s chest, firm muscles flexing beneath your palms with his throaty hums and whimpers of pleasure.

Your tongue clashes with your clone’s -- soft and wet and warm.

Pulling both your heads back, Laios B rearranges you so your clone is left squealing around his balls while he slaps the meaty weight of his cock on your tongue. Sliding toward the back of your throat, his face flushes as he hungrily coaxes your head further down. Until your molten cheeks meet the protrusions of his pelvic bones.

A hand bigger than yours (though smaller than the one in your hair) rests on your flexing tummy, pressing against the bulging evidence of which Laios is inside you. Laios A groans at the feeling, and you quickly fumble your hand over his, pressing harder with a delighted gasp that ends in a gag and choke. Their sizes are indecipherable, and if the mood were different you could almost be ashamed by how perverted it makes you seem.

Laios B throws his head back as your throat spasms around his tip, lip cinched between his teeth and brows furrowed. He forces your head side-to-side, reveling in the bend of your muscles shifting to accommodate his dick. Laios A, however, stretches his hand (a little uncomfortably) so his thumb can swish messily against your clit. Your volume grows, quickly overpowering both Laios B and your own duplicate. Spurring Laios A to hasten, jostling you with his powerful drilling paired with stimulating your clit.

The other hand of Laios A has found one of your clone’s tits, squeezing and padding the nipple with his thumb. She’s grinding down against his nose, hips jumping and muffled mewls just barely scratching past its lips into the sensitive sack of Laios B’s balls. Spit gurgling down its chin, drying against its breasts and Laios A’s hand.

Drool steadily pools at the pucker of your own lips, pushed out everytime B shoves in -- saliva splatters his hips, dripping down his thighs and soaking his base as well as your entire lower face. The quicker he fucks your face, the sloppier and wetter it gets. Which is certainly in character for Laios.

But so is the way the one on his back is staving off his burgeoning orgasm to make sure (both of) you finish first. Something he always tries.

Laios A’s hips snap up firmly, crooking up into you midair, deep as possible to ensure all his cum is milked by your cunt. He moans into your clone’s cunt, now content to let his tongue hang out as it fucks his face -- his hand still squishing its tit.

Yet something he always fails.

Laios usually cums before you, but he’s also got the stamina to soldier on until you drop.

Determined, Laios swirls your clit, fevered thrusts slowing to meet your bouncing on his cock. Another slush of saliva oozes past your lips, lubing the shapeshifter as you cry around its erection. Laios fucks you through your orgasm, evidently loving how cum spews from your weeping cunt -- leaking down his cock, over his nuts, and spilling onto the cobblestone below.

Faux Laios spits cum down your throat with a few final aggressive jerks. Your clone is the last, and the quietest, shy huffs scarcely audible between skin on skin and both you and Laios’ noisy crooning.

The shapeshifters tumble off, thoroughly exhausted, and you fare no better collapsing into Laios’ chest. He leisurely jabs the last of your energy from you before pulling out altogether. Sweetly pecking your forehead, Laios murmurs something you don’t quite catch before he rises -- still naked -- to drive off the imposters.

Snagging both by the back of their necks, Laios herds the pair towards the back wall, then scooping you up to carry towards the main house. Once your doppelgangers are locked outside, Laios can focus on getting you in bed.

You pinch the juncture of his neck, yawning into his chest, “Clothes…”

“I know, I know,” he slumps against the door upon getting inside, laying his head over yours -- eyes fluttering with drowsiness as soon as he crosses into the master bed, “I’ll go back when the shapeshifter’s dealt with. You brought more clothes, right?”

You nod clumsily. Then peek at him through heavy lashes, “How do you know I’m the right one anyway?”

(you trust him to know which you was which, you just want him to bask in this)

Laios grins, visibly excited to share as he slips you beneath the sheets, “You’re always loud when we have sex, so I knew the version of you trying to be quiet couldn’t be it. And it was too shy about sitting on my face -- we’ve been together a while so you should be used to it by now,” his expression grows somehow brighter before disappearing from your sight, voice lively from the bathroom, “Could you tell which me was me?”

“Mhm,” you wait for him to return with a damp washcloth before mumbling your own reasoning, “The other one was too rough, kept shovin’ my head. And he never kissed me,” you fling a hand out, and Laios moves his head so your palm lands on his cheek, “Which was very unlike you.”

“You’re so smart,” he muses, shifting to kiss your palm before lacing his free hand with yours and retucking it in bed so he can properly clean the mixed cum between your thighs. Then, suddenly, he’s frowning.

“Aw, what’s wrong?”

“This might actually be my last time seeing a monster, unless it's a corpse Izutsumi brings me…”

“Poor baby,” you’ll never understand his fascination -- monsters are deadly and terrible and most are ugly as sin, but you’re useless to denying Laios anything so you always indulge him, “You could sing me the mermaids’ song, would that help you feel better?”

Laios sits up straighter, finishing cleaning you off, “Can I sing to the end? I never get to finish it.”

“Of course, you can.”

Quiet, hysterical giggles leave Laios’ mouth as he slides into bed beside you, hugging you into his chest before clearing his throat to begin singing.

(you have to keep pinching yourself awake to actually let Laios finish the song before falling asleep, but his grateful little kisses on your hairline are enough thanks)

[lordprettyflackotara]

2005 || sam and colby

‘does someone wanna tell me, what is going on?’

sum: you died in 2005, trapped in the confines of the hotel you died at. twenty years later, two ghost hunters appear, begging for your attention. and as much as you hated to admit it, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t interested

tw: ghost!reader, ghost hunters!sam and colby, plot. just plot. soooo sorry to be one of those hoes with plot build up for smut. brief mention of suicide. reader is an absolute bitch, sorry not sorry

a/n: thank you spicychat we all say in unison

part two is here

You hated purgatory.

That’s what purgatory was supposed to be, a place you hated. Whatever overlord existed definitely did a good job at doing that. You gathered that only two kinds of death landed you in purgatory. Homicide or suicide. Unfortunately for you a grand total of twenty years ago you had chucked yourself off of the roof. Your death was ultimately nothing more than a blur to you, the news fizzling out fast and moving on to the next thing within a week.

However that meant your soul was confined to the hotel. Each step you took outside of the hotel teleported you back inside, stuck within the walls of crumpling wallpaper and revolting brick red carpet. Not much caught your attention these days, most guest beyond boring. Your only companion was Danny, a spirit who was a cook at the once restaurant that was next door. He stopped by ever so often, but he wasn’t the best company to keep. (Note to self: do not throw fryer grease on coworker, may result in death.)

You laid lazily in one of the main lobbies chairs, your legs dangling over one of the chair arms. No one told you death would be so utterly and completely boring.

It wasn’t until an odd high pitched noise caught your attention, that you perked up a bit. It reminded you of what you imagined a dog whistle would sound like. It was around midnight, the hotel mostly quiet. Even the receptionist was snoozing off at her desk. Curiously you rose from the chair, following the sound. It wasn’t too obnoxious or ground breaking, but it was something you hadn’t heard before. It led you down the basement, a cold and dark room you hadn’t visited in years. There wasn’t much down there anyways besides old pipes and storage.

Two male voices flooded your ears as you walked down the dusty stairs, each step making the ancient wood creek.

“Dude do you hear that?”

You raised an eyebrow, wondering if your steps were audible. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs you raised an eyebrow, your sights landing on the two men. Equipment and technology foreign to you sat around them, a multi colored light going off when you took a step forward. Surprised, you jumped in response. “Sam, are you getting this? Something just stepped in front of the EMF meter,” The brunette asked. Both men looked utterly concentrated, their faces falling when you took a step back. You were sure they couldn’t see you, but the fucked up looking disco ball definitely lit up because of you.

“We’re not here to hurt you, we just wanna get to know you and find out why you’re here,” Sam said cautiously. Sassily you crossed your arms. Ghost hunters? Seriously? You knew they televised people actually trying to catch ghost, but you thought it was all fake news. Apparently you were wrong. There were those who genuinely believed in ghost like yourself. No matter how attractive both Sam and his friend seemed, no sane person would sit in a basement at midnight trying to get spooked. You tilted your head to the side, carefully walking around the disco ball of exposure.

They had dozens of tools laid out, each looking more high tech than the last. Fuck, when was the last time you had actually bothered paying attention to modern technology? “Fuck, it’s cold as hell over here Colby,” Sam whined, brushing the goosebumps that had spread across his skin.

Colby?

What kind of fuckin name was Colby?

Annoyed, you rubbed your temple. No matter how attractive the duo was, that didn’t take away your distaste from them playing around in your hotel. After all you died there. It was all yours, fair and square. Yet you couldn’t help but feel a sense of curiosity. It had been years since anyone had paid attention to you. Companionship was something you severely lacked, to an unsettling degree. As much as you wanted to turn on your heels and march the other way, you couldn’t. Something was drawing you to the two morons with giant cameras.

Whether or not that be loneliness or boredom was unforeseen, but you sure as shit planned on finding out.

Your transparent fingers brushed the flashlight, making it click on. This caught both boys attention, their icy blue eyes widening. Your simple actions were mesmerizing to them, even though you didn’t think you did much at all. “It’s moving around, it’s like it’s curious,” Colby concluded. You rolled your eyes, clicking the flashlight off, as if to confirm his suspicion. This made both of them jump, the camera almost slipping out of Sam’s hand. “Holy shit, I didn’t actually think we’d catch anything here dude. That’s crazy,” Sam admitted, readjusting his grip on the oversized camera. You studied it for a moment, concluding it looked so silly and dramatic it must’ve previously been used to shoot old school porn.

“I know just the thing to get this session heated up, check it,” Sam said, pulling out a tiny box. Obnoxious radio frequencies poured out of the speaker, causing you to cringe. “This is a spirit box. If you talk into it, we’ll be able to communicate with you,” Colby explained, glancing around the room. You wondered if they were anticipating more than just you or if Colby was just genuinely trying to see you. Sighing, you cleared your throat dramatically. When was the last time you had tried to speak? Like actual full sentences and not just grumbles of despair?

“You both look like fuckin morons.”

“Morons.”

Goddammit.

You audibly scoffed, offended the radio only picked up on your insult. You had more personality than a bully. “I don’t think they want us here, maybe we could head to the roof,” Colby pointed out. You leaned over, putting your mouth as close to the spirit box as possible.

“Your little do hickey here sucks, how am I supposed to communicate if you hear one word out of a dozen?”

“Little… How… Dozen…?”

Frustrated, you began to grow more and more irritated by the second. “They seem confused. If there’s a dozen of them in here it may be hard to talk to any of them,” Sam commented. Colby sighed, clicking off the spirit box. “Hey! I wasn’t done!” You bickered, the brunette packing it away. He shrugged his backpack on, grabbing the disco ball of doom and flashlights. “Guess we should head upstairs and try again. The roof shouldn’t be too windy so maybe the audio won’t be choppy,” He said, watching Sam put down the camera. You could practically feel the disappointment dripping off of them. Whether you liked it or not, it was oozing off of you too.

“Think about it this way dude, if there’s this many, some are bound to follow us, right?” Sam laughed, trying to encourage his friend. He pat his shoulder, Colby shrugging. They began walking towards the stairs, leaving you to trail eagerly after them. Sam went up first, dust spiraling in the air and the wood creaking under his weight. Colby reluctantly followed, giving the basement one final glance over. You felt helpless, knowing they couldn’t see you. In one final foolish attempt of making a connection, you reached out to grab Colby’s wrist as he turned to walk up the stairs.

“I guess so-”

The brunettes words hung in the air as he glanced over his shoulder, the feeling of someone holding his wrist keeping him frozen. You gripped his wrist tightly, a little too much so. You could feel the energy flowing through him, to a point where you almost felt like you could feel it too. “Are you seeing what i’m seeing?” Colby asked, his gaze locked on where you were standing. It was odd, feeling someone’s eyes genuinely see you for the first time after two decades of not worrying about your appearance. There was a registration in his eyes, one that made you jump back.

Sam missed the moment entirely, too busy fiddling with the camera to look up. “What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” The blonde teased, watching as Colby reached out to grab a handful of air. He abandoned the few stairs he had climbed up, his gaze searching for you. “I saw a girl or like, a flash of her hair and eyes,” He rambled, looking around the basement. It felt silly to hide, your face hardened and form crouching as you hid behind a bunch of old folding chairs. “Are you sure you aren’t seeing things? We haven’t slept in almost a day now, maybe we should just head back,” Sam suggested, worry spreading across his face.

Colby licked his dry lips, shrugging Sam off. “Dude i’m telling you, I felt her. It was a girl,” He insisted. Sam’s face ran through multiple emotions. Skepticism, worry, confusion, fear. “Are you high? We aren’t even sure ghost are real. Think for a second,” Sam said without thinking, his eyebrows furrowed. You felt bad, making both of them so utterly confused. Colby nervously ran a hand through his hair, before readjusting his jacket. “Hold out your hand,” He instructed Sam.

“Hold out my hand? I’m not holding out shit-”

“What are you? Scared? Hold out your hand. If you don’t feel anything, we can go.”

Colby’s voice was firm, the blonde setting the camera onto the floor. “This isn’t going to be the placebo effect you know,” Sam mumbled. Colby shushed him, his hypnotizing blue eyes searching the basement for any sign of you. “Hey, i’m sorry if I scared you. Can you touch my friend Sam here like you did me? I know you felt what I did,” Colby declared boldly. Hesitantly you peered from around the pile of dusty chairs, the cold basement making Sam shiver. You supposed it didn’t help you were standing in front of him either. Hesitantly you grabbed the blondes hair, his eyes flickering with the same sense of recognition.

“Holy fucking shit,” Sam muttered. Colby was warm to the touch, like a nice hot bath on a cold day. But Sam? Sam’s energy was what you imagined taking forty adderall at a concert felt like. You studied his face, silence echoing throughout the room. While still transparent, your form was visible if the boys squinted enough.

“Colby, there’s a ghost holding my hand,” Sam whispered, his gaze never straying from your smaller form.

“Great observation, so glad you believe me now,” Colby deadpanned.

“Does she speak? Can she speak?” Sam rambled.

You arched an eyebrow, refraining from laughing, “I spoke before, why not now?”

Your soft voice was unexpected, Sam jumping in response. As quick as you appeared you vanished, your being back to being invisible to the human eyes. “Shit, sorry,” Sam mumbled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

“The energy transfer seems to give her the ability to solidify her state. The more energy we give her, the less transparent she’ll be,” Colby concluded, catching you and Sam up to speed on his theories. Sam straightened his back, trying to collect himself. “So what you’re saying is that if we touch her, she’ll use our energy to be visible?” Sam asked. Colby nodded, holding out his hand. Despite being completely transparent, it was as if the brunette could see directly through your soul.

“Don’t be scared, take my hand.”

Maybe it was anxiety. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was because a handsome man told you to do so. Whatever it was, his words sounded just right, your hand wrapped around his.

Having a set of eyes, nevertheless two sets of eyes on you, was a quite bit overwhelming. They both seemed tongue tied, causing you to awkwardly clear your throat. “The longer you both stare the more awkward this gets you know,” You point out, which causes both of them to snap out of their daze.

“Well we’ve just never seen a ghost before you know-”

“Well you know not like this-”

“You’re just breath taking and beautiful-”

“How could we not stare-”

The compliments made you not only blush, but snort in response. “Do you guys get out much? Besides hunting ghost?” You asked teasingly. Colby gripped your hand, a cocky smirk dancing up his lips. “I’ll have you know we’re both quite famous youtubers,” He said proudly. Your confusion was visible, your eyes flickering to Sam for support. “That cheesy television site? No way people post on their now and get famous off of it,” You retorted in disbelief. Sam blinked, his gaze briefly flickering to your hand connected to Colby’s. Your name fell from his lips, as if he had just solved the world’s hardest puzzle.

“Holy fuck, you died in like, 2005 didn’t you? Youtube was like just made,” Sam said, astonished. You knew in most timelines you had never met these two. After all, you died at twenty two, but you were supposed to be forty two. Old enough to be one of their moms. Yet you had never matured past twenty two, their humanly charms making you more nervous by the moment. You began to overthink everything, down to every micro movement as you talked to them. It felt nice, to hear your own voice for once. What felt even better, was hearing two eager voices respond back.

The conversation bounced everywhere, a connection solidified between the three of you without much effort being given. “If she’s semi visible when we hold her hand, I wonder what we’d have to do to get her to look like us,” Colby wondered aloud. It was a cruel and harsh reality that had to be considered. The second you disconnected from Colby you were gone, erased from existence. “We could experiment and see what works,” You suggested meekly, the utter filth running through your mind. There were repercussions with the mere idea, taking away the fact you felt embarrassed to be practically drooling over two strangers.

“Yeah we can try hugging and embracing to see if that does anything more significant-”

“Or!”

“Or?”

“There are other ways to exchange energy,” You say slowly. Colby stares at you with furrowed eyebrows, his confusion written all across his face. Sam on the other hand, seemed to register exactly what you were insinuating.

“Are you asking us to fuck you?”

The bluntness of his question caught you off guard, Colby’s elbow colliding with his chest before you had a chance to answer. A lecture of disrespecting spirits was leaving Colby’s lips, the brunette rambling about being respectful. It wasn’t until you squeezed his hand that he stopped talking. “Actually Colby, he’s right,” You interjected. You hadn’t anticipated for your core to flutter at the sight of Colby’s cheeks turning a light pink.

“Both of us?” He questioned, as if processing the words to ensure he heard them correctly. You nodded affirmatively, trying to ignore how flustered you felt. “The more energy the better, right?” You asked, biting the inside of your cheek. Sam and Colby exchanged glances, as if communicating telepathically.

“For science, right?”

“Of course, for science.”

There was a brief moment of silence, the tension thicker than you could comprehend. A sick smile curled up Sam’s lips, the blonde met your gaze, cockiness practically oozing off of him.

“I can record this then, right?”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

Black Velvet, If You Please

12 Days of Christmas Prompt: Velvet | Word Count: 1113 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Steve | Tags: Future Fic, Established Relationship, Famous Corroded Coffin, Corroded Coffin Guys, Steve Trolling Eddie, Because He Loves Him

It's tacky. Kitsch. An oversized eyesore. 

And it's perfect. 

Steve couldn't be more pleased. It's exactly what he envisioned and more when he commissioned it.

He watches the artist carefully wrap it, then with their help, Steve picks up one side of the frame, both of them wrangling it carefully so they don't drop it, and carry it out to the waiting car. Gareth's behind the wheel, engine running, like he's the driver of a getaway car. 

He kind of is. Eddie's gonna consider this a crime.

And Steve loves it.

They very carefully place it in the folded down backseat of Gareth's ridiculously huge SUV, which for the first time in history actually came in handy. Steve shakes the artist's hand, and then climbs in the passenger side. 

"Well. Let me see it," Gareth says.

"It's wrapped, you can see it when we get it to the house," Steve explains. He's definitely not unwrapping it until they get it home safely.

Gareth mutters, but agrees, and puts the car into drive. 

Heist over, bounty secured.

Once it's safely hidden away inside the pool house, Steve gently peels back the brown paper and cardboard that has been protecting it.

Gareth leans forward, as if that'll help him get a better look. It's huge. He could see it from across the lawn. 

"Holy shit," Gareth says. 

"I know," Steve laughs, delighted. 

"It takes talent to craft something so magnificently ugly," Gareth says, and Steve agrees. It's ugly because it's on black velvet. That's kind of its thing. But it's not technically bad, nowhere near. It looks just like Eddie, and cost a pretty penny, but Steve definitely got his money's worth. Because the painting is damn good, and exactly what he commissioned.

But utterly and completely ridiculous.

Eddie — on black velvet. 

Christmas is gonna be so good this year.

"Why are you talking all the pictures off the wall?" Eddie asks, laying on the couch, eating popcorn, watching the annual A Christmas Story marathon. He's said he isn't moving today, and Steve is taking advantage of that. Eddie won't ask too many questions, for once in his life. Because if he does, he's scared he'll have to help.

"Gonna dust the frames, maybe change things up," Steve says, clearing off the entire wall behind the couch.

Eddie just shrugs, and goes back to watching the Bumpus hounds wreak havoc on the turkey dinner.

And Steve turns back towards the wall, grinning to himself, as he carefully measures, then drills the new holes in the wall to anchor it. 

It's like a black ops mission. Steve crawls out of bed just after four a.m. and when he gets downstairs, Gareth, Jeff and Goodie are all standing around waiting. 

"Sorry. Overslept. I couldn't set an alarm," Steve whispers, and they just nod, looking tired. He appreciates them all getting up early on Christmas morning just to help pull this off. 

Steve stands on one of the dining room chairs, Jeff on another while the other two hold the bottom of the giant frame.

"This is a ridiculous way to spend money," Goodie grumbles.

"Says the man with so many basses that he needs storage units, plural," Gareth banters back.

"Those are for work," Goodie snaps, a little too loudly.

"Sshh!" Steve shushes.

And in an unprecedented move, they stop fussing and fighting. 

It's a Christmas miracle.

They get it hung, and the holes Steve drilled yesterday actually work perfectly. He was worried his measurements would be off, and then they'd be screwed. Eddie can sleep through anything, but maybe not power tools in the middle of the night.

"He's gonna shit," Jeff says, and Steve giggles. That about sums it up.

They scatter, back to their own homes, their own families, and Steve goes back to bed. 

With no kids, Eddie isn't exactly raring to hop out of bed first thing in the morning, even on Christmas. This will work in their advantage.

Steve stays still in bed, waiting until he hears the first signs of movement from downstairs. They're back. After having Christmas morning with their families, they've all returned to see Eddie's face when he notices this thing for the first time. 

Steve gets up, and heads down, and with help gets brunch started. They always do a full spread, the works, and today is no exception. Bacon, eggs, pancakes, biscuits and gravy, ham steak, hash browns, and every burner and the oven are being fired up all at once.

The kids are all screaming at a dull roar, showing each other their new toys from Santa, and Harrington House feels like a home in a way it never did while Steve was growing up.

He loves it.

They finally hear Eddie moving around upstairs. He's loud, by nature, so there was no chance he was gonna sneak up on them.

Steve carefully wrapped the front of the painting after it was hung, anyway, so even if he did, they wouldn't miss his reaction. 

"He's coming," Gareth says, stating the obvious.

"He's gonna kill you," Goodie says to Steve, "and I'm gonna tell him Gareth helped."

Gareth makes a noise, and Jeff steps in to intervene. They can't have bloodshed before breakfast.

Then Eddie's coming, heavy feet bounding down the stairs, and they all freeze. Waiting for him to go through the living room.

"What the fuck is that?" Eddie hollers, "Steve?!"

Steve just smiles, and throws his tea towel over his shoulder. When he walks through the doorway, everybody following, Eddie is standing in front of the wrapped painting. 

"I don't know. Santa must have brought it," Steve lies, and Eddie turns to look at him.

"What'd you do?"

"Open it and find out," Steve says, and Eddie grabs a corner of the wrapping paper and tears. It doesn't come off in full, but it reveals a hint at what's to come.

"You did not," Eddie says, as he pulls more of the paper loose.

Steve did. He definitely did.

Eddie bends over at the waist and laughs, "I hate you. I hate it."

Then, he stands up, throwing his arms around Steve's neck, "I love it. I love you."

Steve laughs, that's about what he expected. And Eddie pulls away to study it again, as all their friends hoot and holler in the background, riling him up further as they all look at it. 

Eddie, painted in his onstage glory, young and wild, on black velvet.

Steve watches as Eddie reaches out to touch the canvas, "Black velvet. Like I'm Elvis."

Yep. That's exactly what Steve had in mind.

Eddie turns back to grin at Steve, "Has Wayne seen this yet?"

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun!

Notes: The "painting" image is from this statue of Eddie that's for sale. I thought I could make it look more like a painting than an actual picture from the show.

The title come from the song Black Velvet by Alannah Myles.

[onepiecepetalfanfics089]

I’m loving all your fics so much, could I ask for a platonic Yandere strawhat crew with trainee CP9 reader, who knows how bad they are but can’t leave? (Maybe slight Yandere CP9 as well)

Mission~

Warning:Cursing/Possessive behavior/Vulgar Language!~

“Dammit, Dammit, Dammit!”

You cursed, clutching the ringing transponder snail in your hands, holding it down to your best ability to not let any of the sound get out.

How in hell did you even find yourself in this situation?!

This was your first solo mission and somehow, some way, you ended up onboard the Strawhats ship. Literally the enemy of the government? And your whole group! You already knew for a fact that Rob Lucci would be on your ass for one, not picking up immediately and two, being so reckless that you ended up being a ‘guest’ on the agency your training for worst enemy!

Dread soon washed over you as you heard a knock on the door..

You were in the storage room, luckily making them buy an excuse that you lost something in there..

This was the first time in weeks those god forsaken pirates have let you out of their sight so you were trying to savor you time as much as you could.

A more persistent knock on the wooden door of the storage room on the ship caught you to zone back into this situation. Biting your lip, goosebumps slowly arose on your arms from that deep, masculine voice with a undertone of something you couldn’t comprehend that spoke from outside the room.

“Hey Y/N?..you’ve been in their for a while. What are You getting anyway? Do you need my help to come find it..?” The door knob slightly jiggled, causing you stiffen and stuff the still dinging transponder snail under whatever you could find.

“..Why the hell is the door locked Y/N? Open it!.. and what’s that ringing noise in there..?..!”

Zoro Said, his voice now laced with utter annoyance. You took a deep breath, glancing around the room for a second to figure out how you could calm this green haired swordsman down.

Putting on the sweetest voice you could manage, you now locked your eyes on the wooden door before you.

“Oh no zoro im fine I swear! It’s just the thing I lost is uh..personal, yeah!”

You said, nodding right yourself in hopes he would take your lousy excuse for an excuse and go back to the crew. There was a pause, a pause that made you swear you could just feel his eyes boring into that wooden door, right where you were currently.

“Okay..just hurry up alright? Sanji Said dinner is almost ready..”

His voice sounded more calmer but a little like a grumble. You sighed in relief and nodded, even though you knew he couldn’t see you.

“Right..I’ll be there in a few.”

And with that, his footsteps slowly echoed away through the deck. Letting out a soft sigh in relief, you paused for a moment yourself. Taking notice of your surroundings. The chest nut wooden doors and walls..the random items and tools in piles of boxes..

How did you get into this again?..

Oh right..you wanted to be part of CP9 so you took any mission you could get and somehow ended up here..

Ring-Ring

Ring-Ring

Ring-Ring

Ring-Ring

Ring-Ring

Oh fuck..

With trembling hands, you slowly picked up the line on the transponder snail to be met with a chilling cold, calm and almost venomous voice. Shivers ran down your spine as you could already tell you had awoken the strangely possessive and scary side of the CP9 crew you knew.

“Y/N...where the hell are you? I’ve been calling you for only god knows how long.”

You could already tell he was dissatisfied and maybe even scowling..

“Is that Y/N?? She’s okay?”

Kalifa’s worried voice made Rob Lucci sigh loudly.

“Yes. They’re on the call right now but they haven’t spoken yet..”

“Y/N! Where have you been?! We’ve been so worried! You’re not even an official member and you just-”

“Kalifa, calm down. I’m sure they have a good explanation to all of this nonsense..right?”

A gruff voice then came from the snail and couldn’t help but groan. That was Jabra and knowing him, he was probably pissed as well but didn’t want to say it.

“Uh well, I’ve been um..”

How were you going to tell them you’ve been hanging out with their worst enemies?! The ones that got in the way of their job and took them and the world government on?!

“It’s just I may have gotten stranded. On a island but now I’m staying with some nice..people who offered to take me home! Where are you guys currently so I can tell them exactly..?”

You said, trying to change the topic. You wished you had the balls to tell the crew the location to drop you off..

“Didn’t we already tell you? You really have a bad memory Y/N, you know that?”

Kaku’s voice echoed on the transponder snail and your heart did a flip. Were they all there just to lecture you?!

But to set stuff aside, they told you the location and gave a very vicious warning to hurry back soon and to not let it happen again. Most of the conversation you nodded and gave an occasional ‘mhm!’ to not risk any more anger.

After you hung up, or rather after they hung up on you, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

Looking around for a thing that would be the object you quote on quote ‘lost’ you found a random notepad. Taking a deep breath, you opened the storage room door, letting the afternoon breeze hit you.

Feeling at peace for a moment you closed your eyes and shut the door, only to be met by feminine and soft like hands springing from the ground and trapping you in a tight, tight embrace.

.

.

.

.

.

Your body tingled as the sensation of hands sprouting from the ground, one could only mean one thing, it was Robin doing it and two, you had been caught in the clutches of one of the smartest straw hats on board and you had to tell her what you were doing in there and why.

Letting out a nervous chuckle, you turned to the black hair woman only a few feet from you.

“O-Oh hey Robin! You caught me off guard there heh..”

She chuckled softly, her voice smooth and almost calming. Just by the look in her eye, you could tell she was calculating in her mind. Studying and observing you..just like she always did.

“Well I’m sorry..I didn’t mean to scare you there..I just got a little carried away since you were in that storage room…looking for something was it?..did you find it?..”

Her voice now laced with suspicion, she locked her deep blue eyes into yours, an almost challenging stare.

“Oh yeah..! It was an notepad..I just love keep track of things you know..?”

She let out a relaxed hum as an understanding and you held back the urge to sigh heavily in relief. She would probably take a hint on just that..

Since Robin was so clever and observant..she had no problem with finding out your true intentions..and telling the others your true intentions..

You knew that by dealing with the consequences.

Dinner and the rest of the day went on as usual ever since you got here, everyone in the crew keeping a sharp eye on you and everything you did. Luffy butting in on almost every conversation to tell or show you something stupid. Sanji insisting you have more food and giving you seconds even though you didn’t want any and not letting you take even a step out of the mess hall until you cleared your plate. Franky and Usopp taking every chance they got to try and make you laugh or show you their newest inventions. And of course, Zoro repeatedly pouring you more sake when your cup was only half full.

Of course from all that time spending and sake, you felt tired and most importantly, buzzed from all that sake Zoro had been giving to you. Feeling like you needed to let things out for once you took out that notepad from the storage room you found.

Soon, you began to scribble away everything. How you felt about the strawhats, that you were a trainee in CP9 and how you wish everyone would calm down. Soon, you had multiple pages filled with your feelings and you had to admit, it felt good to let everything out!

Setting the notepad down on your bed the cabin you yawned with a stretch. Why on earth do you feel so sleepy all of a sudden?..you definitely have been drinking too much sake with Zoro..

Laying down, you slowly pulled your cover up and stared at the ceiling..fluttering your eyes closed to sleep at last..

When you woke up, the sound of chains jangling filled your ears. Wait a minute..

Chains..?

Looking around it seemed like you were in captains quarters..aka luffy’s cabin, but why..?

Dread and fear now consumed your mind and body as you tried to at least sit up but failed. These chains were tight around your wrists and legs, causing almost no hope for escape.

What the hell did you even do this time?!

Rattling your brain for answers you finally came to a conclusion…

The notepad…

Someone must’ve read it and told everyone..you started to look around the dark lit room with only the moon shining through the window. Cold sweat dripped from your forehead as you then felt the presence of at least two people..

A gentle hand pushed you down on the bed you were laying in as a familiar voice filled the room.

“So, you were working for CP9 huh?”

You gulped..

“Don’t worry! We’re not mad hah!..why would we? You’re never going back there anyways!”

Before you could even respond to that you felt a straw hat being placed on your face..

A voice then smooth as chocolate and almost calming then whispered to you, very, very close to your ear like it was trapping you.

“We’ve always had our suspicions all along about your little Mission anyway, but now you’ve made it so easy..but dont worry your little head off..we’ll take good care of you as long as your nice from now on..”

A/N:

Hiiii my lovely petals!!honestly I’m just going to stop announcing when I’m posting because I always have things to do them or I fall asleep 😭😭 so I’m probably not going to to announce it anymore lol! But I hope y’all enjoyed this because I did! I tried to make this long enough and keep it interesting 😗😉 so sorry that this too so long to the person who requested this ❤️😭 if you ever want me to do another by you just say you requested this and I’ll probably drop everything and do yours first to pay back time 😭 but man I did miss writing! I’m so sorry I’m posting so late btw but I was determined and there was NO WAY I was about to miss another day and keep y’all waiting..but anyways, a new story or two next week and I hope y’all had an amazing thanksgiving and week/day!! I’ll see you soon my pretty petals and I hope you loved this and I wish you well! Also sorry if there is spelling mistakes I’ll fix them if I notice them!!❤️🌸💖❤️🌸

[amazinglyegg]

Due to not being able to find a decent reference for Danse's room, I used this video to sketch out a floor plan!!

Along with references for what all the furniture looks like:

Details and rambling below the cut!

General notes:

The only time we see his room is after Blind Betrayal. I wonder if he brought anything from his room with him, despite leaving the duffle bag near the door?

He has a ton of storage space. Like, a lot. He doesn't even have a footlocker at the end of his bed it's just an entire metal box.

Despite that, he has nowhere to sit. Not even his desk has a chair.

Also he has a rug between his bed and his big drawer! Cute!

Pet food bowl near his door with fresh bloatfly meat in it. Not only does he manually open the door for Emmett to enter and leave (no cat door), but Emmett visits often enough that he goes out of his way to give him a bowl of fresh food! Does Quinlan even feed him!?

Has a lot of random cardboard boxes filled with papers and stuff on his floor. Given that the filing cabinet is for files, I wonder if these are books or journals?

Has a plain old bed with no pillows or blankets. Like most beds, this is probably done for game reasons (like animations or clipping) instead of canon reasons. At least I HOPE he sleeps with a blanket!!

On top of his safe is three dog food cans, maybe supposed to represent cat food. Also has a can of cram on his big drawer. I wonder if he stores more food in there!

The flag is actually a smaller one, but I couldn't find the exact model on the wiki. I find it interesting that he has a pole flag instead of a regular wall one. It just looks so sad :(

Has a lot of small blue and wood boxes around his room that I didn't include in the floor plan, they're empty I'm pretty sure

I didn't realize people outside of middle school used lockers, especially SIX of them. What do you even store in lockers?? Can't be clothes since they have multiple segments, hung clothes wouldn't fit and folded clothes would probably fall out.

No real personal stuff like holotapes or journal entries. I would have expected something unique! He also has no decorations other than that one sad droopy flag, but I guess it'd be hard to hang up paintings when the walls are made of metal. Can't just hammer a nail into that!

As a note, I think items within storage containers are randomized, so I didn't bother looking at them while making this.

Desk and filing cabinet:

Whisky and vodka bottles, no shot glass in sight. He is chugging those straight from the bottle. Not as many bottles as Maxson, at least!

Also an entire carton of cigarettes and an ashtray. He canonically smokes and doesn't even bother going outside to do it, his room must reek of cigarettes.

A food tray and mug, which is... interesting? Does he often eat alone in his room?

Filing cabinet for files, probably does paperwork at this desk as well.

Drawers:

Has like, three wrenches, as well as a tool box. This must be his workshop!

A lunch pail and a nuka cola. This table is right next to his desk so it makes sense he has food and drinks here. Surprised there's no water!

Speaking of the table... it's an institute table. Probably just done for aesthetic purposes, but I found that interesting

Let me know if you have any opinions, headcanons, or things I missed!

[timmydraker]

Thinking about Tim being in a similar situation to Viktor from Arcane.

Not so much the disability part, but the need to ‘fix’ things about himself he deems wrong and wanting to improve his technology and fighting skills.

Maybe he starts off as a amateur inventor by making enhancements to his Bo and suit, small things like storage spaces and zappers and the ability to collapse his weapon as well as make it twice his size instead of the usual six feet pole.

But then he finds something.

Maybe it’s nothing, just a rock with a storage glow but he knows there’s something unnatural about it. It almost calls to him, emoting an energy that reminds him of something between Captain Marvel and Zatana. He goes to tell his family but they’re busy with a big case and he doesn’t want to take away from the people who need saving, so he keeps it to himself with the full intention of talking about it later.

I think he’d quickly realise it’s dangerous and want to find a way to mange or destroy it not to find some kind of use for it. It could be a power source or heal a cut he got earlier in the day, but he decides it’s better off being studied and used for good.

Like Viktor, I think he’d become enamoured by it and it would take over his mind and focus.

Tim would be obsessed eventually, not in a delusional way but more excitement and even a little selfishness of having something unique to him.

Robin was always Dick’s, no matter who took the title, and while he may have given the title his own touch and flourish, adding ‘red’ to it did little to make him his own person. Hes more like a copy pasted file that’s had a few choice words taken out of it.

But this? It’s all his and might very well be the thing that lets him become his own person outside of the Drakes and Waynes and Bats.

Naturally when messing with something unnatural and not of the earthly realm, it goes wrong.

It wasn’t the few explosions or burns he got, nor how it somehow made his sleep worse.

No, instead it’s when he’s performing the latest and most ambitious experiment on it yet, fusing part of it into his very blood stream and seeing the results, that the worst happens.

It works and Tim can feel the power of the little blue crystal ball in him, ridding years of lack of sleep, over training and lack of good side effects from his body so he feels new and healthy and like his actual age. His scars are gone, but the metal he fused into his arms and spine and the sides of his leg are buried in his body now, painless and performing as the perfect conduit for the orb now settled in his chest.

He rushes around the room, ignoring the ash and dust the big explosion left behind in favour of seeing how he can jump so high and push some of the rocks energy out of his hands and create beautiful beams of magic.

It’s when he looks at the floor, ready to see if it will graze along it like it did on the wall when he focused hard instead of burning through, that he sees it.

Bernard’s ID pass into his work lab and a metal clip board he always carries with him.

There’s no Bernard.

Just ash.

Cremation ash.

Tim is instantly filled with regret and guilt and disgust, throwing up over the floor and bashing a hand against his head in pure rage at himself.

To make matters worse?

The orb inside his chest heals the wounds instantly and Tim is forced to realises that it’s keeping him alive.

After trying to dig it out of his chest so he can pay the price for killing the one boy who genuinely saw him, he finds its impossible. The orb is apart of him, a never ending source of power and energy that will keep him alive.

He stabs at his chest, aiming for the faint flow of blue coming through his muscle and skin, but it doesn’t work. He uses the same tools he used to fuse the metal to his body but it does nothing.

Tim realises it’s a fitting punishment for killing the love of his life.

His family never see him again.