#it's not a bad paying gig all things considered

[podcastwizard]

"knight posting" this and "guard posting" that. i'm the princess's trusted handmaid who provides her advice and comfort in my soothing, low-class style. i am saying things like "if you don't mind me speaking out of turn, my lady..." and sharing fairy tales and lullabies my sad mother taught me. also i am fucking the jester.

#the princess is going through a whole thing with an evil duke or maybe a dragon #meanwhile i'm like MY LADY! YOUR HAIR! #and forcing her to eat and take baths when she's grumpy #it's not a bad paying gig all things considered

[another-lost-mc]

When MC Feels Burnout/Emotionally Numb THE DEMON BROTHERS 4.1k words | SFW | gn!Reader | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | Fluff & Angst A/N: The relationships between MC and the brothers can be read as romantic or platonic. The twins' sections are combined. ♫ [ MC's POV: Song Rec ]

─── LUCIFER:

Lucifer is concerned when you come to the dining room table for breakfast looking worse for wear; there's dark circles under your eyes like you haven't slept. You pour yourself a cup of tea and wrap your hands around the warm porcelain, but you don't drink it. Your breakfast plate remains untouched, and eventually you shuffle out of the room without a word.

He keeps an eye on you at RAD, but you're unusually withdrawn. You follow his brothers from class to class, eyes downturned and silent despite the lively conversations going on around you. Everyone walks home together that afternoon, but when he glances back to see how you are, he notices you’re lagging behind the rest of the group. He slows his pace to match yours, but you barely seem to notice; the walk home is silent.

When dinner time comes and goes without any change in your behaviour, he decides he needs to do something to snap you out of this little funk you're in. Later that evening, he invites you to keep him company in his study while he finishes his work. You accept in a monotone voice; it could be misconstrued as boredom, but he knows better.

Sometimes you read and listen to cursed records while he works at his desk, but tonight the random book you plucked off the shelf lays unopened in your lap. You stare unseeing into the fireplace, and your body is tense like you can’t relax.

He picks up something he was supposed to finish tonight—a folder full of documents to review and sign— but you barely notice when he sits beside you. He gives up all pretense of working when he places the folder and your unread book on the floor by his feet. He tucks you under his arm and pulls you against his side. You lean against him, a little reluctantly at first, until you start to relax. Your cheek is pressed against his chest and his heartbeat thumps gently beneath your ear.

He’s not sure how much time passes when you finally drift off to sleep. There’s something vulnerable about the way your body melts against his, and he wonders where he went wrong that led you to be in such a state to begin with.

He considers waking you so you can go back to your room to sleep. He contemplates carrying you somewhere more comfortable so he doesn't have to wake you—his room is closer, and maybe you won’t mind sharing a bed with him if it’s only for one night. Light and shadow from the fireplace dance along your skin, and you’re so warm in his arms; moving now seems like an impossibility.

A sore back in the morning seems like a fair price to pay when he decides to keep you exactly where you are. He maneuvers so carefully while he leans back against the armrest and holds you to his chest. He pulls the blanket off the back of the sofa and makes sure you’re covered before he closes his eyes. He doesn’t even notice that he syncs his breathing with yours, and he falls asleep not long after.

─── MAMMON:

Mammon eagerly tells you about his day—the things he bought, his wins at the casino, how his part-time gig is going—and he’s used to getting some sort of reaction from you (good or bad).

Today, you look at him blankly and tell him that’s nice in a quiet, emotionless voice that worries him. Having you scold him for being financially irresponsible (while you bite the inside of your cheek to resist the urge to smile) would be better than this. He’s stunned by your lack of a reaction, and you turn away from him when you’ve decided you don’t need to focus on paying attention to him anymore.

After dinner, he goes to your room and finds you laying in bed, staring at your ceiling and drumming the mattress idly with your fingertips. 

"Whatcha doin’?" he asks, even though he knows what you're going to say next.

“Nothing,” your quiet, flat tone replies.

“Good. Come on,” he says in a much chipper voice than yours as he grabs both your hands and practically pulls you out of bed. He leads you outside the front door where his car is parked, thrumming gently while the engine runs. He flips on the seat warmer for you and glances at you occasionally from the corner of his eye; he hopes you’ll melt into the warm leather soon.

“We're just goin’ for a little drive,” he explains, even though you don't bother asking where he's taking you in the middle of the night. The radio is streaming music from his phone, and he keeps the volume low. He nods towards his D.D.D. on the dash. “You can change it if you want,” he offers, and he’s not surprised when you decline.

He drives away from the bustling streets of the Devildom. The road is empty and the skies are clearer here, but he knows brief moments of tranquility aren’t enough to alleviate whatever it is that’s bothering you.

He’s never been good with words, but he rests his hand palm-up over the gear shift. He’s not sure you even notice since you’ve been staring out the window most of the drive. After a few moments, you surprise him and put your hand in his. He squeezes your hand gently before lacing your fingers together; it feels like a victory when you don’t pull away.

Every once in a while he squeezes your fingers between his, and he smiles at the dark, open road when you do the same.

─── LEVIATHAN:

Leviathan knows what it’s like to feel numb. Sometimes he feels that way when his self-imposed isolation wears him down. Talking to Henry and surrounding himself with his games and manga and toys isn't always enough to fill the black void of jealousy that makes his tone sharp and his fangs even sharper.

He gets that way when he thinks about all things he wants but doesn’t have—he notices you become this way from doing too much for everyone else until you lose yourself in the process.

Between the two of you, you should be able to find some sort of balance. He feels like you should both know better, but here you are, drowning in your own black void while he watches helplessly. He can barely help himself; how can he possibly help you?

For lack of better ideas, he invites you to his room to play games. Usually you’re so animated when you play together; you jeer at him when he spins out due to a perfectly-timed banana, or you toss your controller aside and tickle him when his shell knocks you out of first place.

That level of enthusiasm is gone today; you tap the controller pad in total silence. You don’t care when you come in last place, and you don’t care when Levi throws the match so you can win. He turns off the TV and shuffles on the floor so he’s facing you. You glance at him occasionally but go back to staring at your lap.

Levi hates it when you cry, but he hates this dead-eyed stare of yours even more. He grunts in frustration when he gets up suddenly and grabs a small tin off his desk.

“Come here for a sec, I could use your help,” he says, and he shakes the tin in your direction until you get up from the sofa and shuffle to his side. He leads you to the aquarium where Henry bobs peacefully in the crystal-blue water. Levi hands you the tin and unfolds a step ladder he keeps tucked away. He climbs the ladder carefully so he can open the window at the top of the tank.

You open the can of fish flakes when he asks you to, and he sprinkles a generous helping across the top of the water. You’re transfixed by the sight of Henry dashing through the water for his supper, and Levi can’t stop staring at you.

“Sometimes he’s good to talk to,” Levi mentions off-handedly. “Henry is a good listener.���

(Both his Henry’s are good listeners, Levi thinks.)

“What do you talk about?” you ask him quietly, still watching the fish eat the tiny flakes.

“All sorts of stuff. Anything you want—he doesn’t judge.” 

(You have that in common, too.)

Levi sputters a little, embarrassed by all the things he’s telling you, his little self-care rituals he normally keeps to himself. He thinks that even in your worst moments, like the way you are now, you’re still not nearly as pathetic as he is. You don’t deserve to feel like this, ever.

You glance away from the aquarium and meet Levi’s eyes just as tears begin to collect on his lash line. He clears his throat and takes the tin from you before putting it back on his desk. He pretends to organize things so he has an excuse not to turn around.

“Maybe you can come by tomorrow night and help me feed him again,” he manages to choke out.

A pause, and then you whisper, “I’d like that.”

Levi bites his lip to muffle his sobs.

─── SATAN:

Satan watches you during class and realizes you’re not acting like yourself. You tap your pen idly on the desk and stare at nothing. This is your favourite class but you’re not even listening.

Sometimes you come to his room after dinner and read, but not today. After school, you brush past everyone else and head to your room. He’s worried about you, and he’s not going to let you blow him off tonight. He knocks on your door, and your lifeless voice asks why he cares so much. He gets tongue-tied deciding how to respond:

I like spending time with you. You like reading nearly as much as I do and I don’t want that to ever change. It kills me to see you like this.

“It’s important to me,” is all he manages to say, and you must sense his desperation because you finally agree to follow him back to his room.

You sit on the bed while he picks the book off the shelf for you. You make a quiet noise of surprise when he places a pillow in your lap and lays down. Normally he reads to you, but his eyes are gentle when he holds the book out to you instead.

“Can you read a bit tonight?” he asks quietly. You frown and look like you want to argue, but he pushes just a little more—”for only a few chapters, okay?”

You take the book from him and pull out the bookmark when you find the right chapter. You glance down at him and when he smiles encouragingly, you start to read.

Your tone is quiet and dull at first, and your speech is slurred; Satan has trouble understanding you sometimes. He wonders if this was a stupid idea after all, but then you huff in amusement when you read a funny passage. He peers up at you and the little smile still tugs at the corners of your mouth as you finish the chapter.

You read another whole chapter after that, and Satan nearly melts in your lap when your free hand lazily combs through his hair as you read. Your eyes are a bit brighter when you finally stop reading and close the book.

“I can read a bit more if you’d like,” he asks you when he sits up. He almost expects you to refuse and shuffle away, but you nod and lay down when he sets the pillow in his lap for you to rest on.

He reads another chapter, quieter and slower than usual, and he stops reading when you fall asleep. He sets the book aside and moves you gently off his lap so he can settle into the space behind you. He drapes an arm loosely over your waist and contemplates other ways he can help you feel better.

─── ASMODEUS:

It breaks Asmo’s heart to see you like this. Your lovely complexion betrays the long days and poor sleep you’ve had. Your warm, shining gaze is dull. Your brow is creased with little lines and your mouth is downturned—he misses your easy smiles the most.

Sometimes Asmo feels like a ghost when he smiles at you but it feels like you see through him, not really acknowledging him or anything else around you.

He switches apps on his D.D.D. when he sees your message ping the group chat. You say that you’re not cooking dinner tonight (no explanation given) and that Lucifer should use part of your allowance this week to order food for everyone instead.

Asmo doesn’t blame you for not wanting to cook for seven hungry demons, but he has a suspicion that you plan on locking yourself in your room all night and skipping dinner for the third night in a row.

(You might’ve been at the dinner table every night this week, but he noticed that you just moved the food around in your plate without eating anything.)

No, he won’t let you do this to yourself. He understands wanting space and having lazy days, but that isn’t what this is. This is isolation and sadness and exhaustion, and if he feels this upset seeing how affected you are, he can’t imagine what you feel—or don’t feel—inside.

Asmo sends a quick message to Lucifer and asks him not to order anything for dinner just yet. Worst case scenario, Asmo will cave and order dinner for everyone later—but for now, Asmo marches to your room with a plan instead.

You’re buried under the covers when he lets himself into your room. He doesn’t bother turning on the lights; he can see you perfectly without them. He sits down slowly on the edge of the bed and rests his hand on your hip.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” he asks quietly, and normally you laugh away his pet names for you, but today you shrug under the comforter instead.

“M’fine,” you mumble into your pillow.

“I could use your help with something,” he says, leaning down closer to your ear. He presses lightly against the side of your body like a poor imitation of an embrace. “How about you get up and keep me company, hmm?”

You’re quiet and don’t say anything, and Asmo’s hopeful smile starts to drop when he thinks you’re ignoring him. After an awkward minute of silence, you sigh and turn your head slightly towards him. “Help you with what?”

He’s not going to give you the chance to change your mind, and he stands up and reaches for your hand. “I’ll show you in the kitchen.”

Asmo steers you towards a barstool in the corner of the kitchen so you can relax while he makes dinner. He has an assortment of ingredients spread out across the counter. The family recipe book is opened to one of your own additions added to the back pages. 

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” he grins and winks over his shoulder at you. “I’ll cook tonight, and if I get stuck, who better to help than you?” He taps his chin thoughtfully and takes his D.D.D. out of his pocket and hands it to you for safekeeping. 

Asmo might not be the most skilled cook among his siblings, but he’s confident enough that he follows your recipe correctly—for the most part. If you didn’t know him better, you would think he was exaggerating his movements and adding commentary to each step to be silly. But you do know Asmo, and you recognize this as his natural playfulness when he does something he enjoys. 

Nearly twenty minutes later, there’s splatters of sauce on the front of his apron and he adds more salt and pepper to the pot with a flourish. When he turns his head to check on you, his mouth purses in surprise when the flash on his phone camera lights up the room. He blinks rapidly when he realizes you took a picture.

He jabs the stirring spoon in your direction with a playful glare. “I hope you got my best side,” he jokes. He’s self-conscious about the spices he knows that got in his hair somehow, and there’s something sticky on his cheek.

You slip the phone into your pocket and slide off the stool so you can reach for a clean cloth. You run it under the lukewarm tap for a moment, and your lips twitch into a smile when you wipe away the smear of sauce near his mouth. 

“You’re doing great,” you murmur quietly, glancing at the pot simmering on the stove.

“Does it smell good enough to eat?” he asks nervously, and he beams when you nod.

He wraps his arms around you and laughs as he hugs you as tight as he can. He knows the apron is making a mess on your clothes, but he doesn’t care. Neither do you, apparently—you wrap your arms around him after a few moments and hug him back.

─── BEELZEBUB & BELPHEGOR:

Beel walks to his room dejectedly, and not even the bags of treats from Madam Scream's hanging off his arms makes him feel any better.

He invited you to go with him to the pastry shop after school today. He knows you're not eating properly, but that combined with your bleak mood and dull expressions convinces him that there's something wrong beyond not being hungry.

He watched you during meal times every day this week: you shuffled your food around on the plate and didn't eat anything, or you took little nibbles out of something then dropped your fork on the plate with a sigh and left the rest uneaten.

He went to the bakery after school today, alone. Even though he invited you, you said you weren't in the mood and walked home without him. He bought a few boxes of his favourites, and some for his brothers to share, and he bought a half-dozen Blood Velvet cupcakes especially for you.

He knocked on your bedroom door when he got home and told you he had a surprise, but he was met with silence. He heard the faint creak of mattress springs, but you didn't come to the door and you didn't respond. He frowned, but he explained in the cheeriest voice he could muster that he brought you some cupcakes.

“Thanks, you can have 'em, though,” your muffled voice replied through the door. 

It’s an understatement to say that Beel is extremely concerned about you.

He walks to the room he shares with his twin. Usually Belphie naps in the attic after school (more often than not, he convinces you to nap with him). It’s a surprise when Beel finds Belphie sitting cross-legged on his bed with his pillow in his lap, and his eyes snap to his brother’s as soon as the door closes.

“They're not eating enough,” Beel tells his twin. He sets aside the boxes of pastries he bought, his appetite and mood completely soured.

“They're not sleeping enough either,” Belphie replies. He doesn't tell Beel about your sleepless nights, but his brothers would have to be blind not to notice your haggard appearance and the dark circles blooming under your eyes. You haven't napped with Belphie in over a week either, and he misses you—but he keeps that complaint to himself.

"What can we do?" Beel asks as he drops heavily on the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and runs a hand through his hair.

Belphie is quiet for a moment, and he glances at the boxes of abandoned pastries Beel brought home. "What’s the plan for dinner tonight?"

Beel looks up and scratches the back of his head. "Some of the others are busy so Lucifer said it was a free-for-all night."

(That usually means everyone orders takeout while Beel eats whatever is left in the house himself.)

Belphie stands up and tucks his pillow under one arm while he wanders over to the stack of bakery boxes near the door. He rifles through the bags until he finds the one he's looking for, and he gestures for Beel to follow him. "I have an idea. Come help me in the kitchen."

It’s peaceful in the deepest corner of the House of Lamentation gardens. Even if the others were home, there’s enough distance from the house to offer peace and privacy—it's nice out there.

Belphie thinks a picnic might be relaxing enough for you to enjoy; the hard part is convincing you to join them. The twins are determined and they both go to your room and insist you have dinner with them.

“You have to eat something,” Beel says in a pleading voice, eyes sorrowful with worry for you. It wasn’t quite enough to convince you to get out of bed, but you swallowed around the lump in your throat as your eyes burned with emotion.

Belphie crawled onto the bed next to you, dangling over the edge precariously while he reached for your hand and laced his fingers with yours. “Please,” he whispered, eyes just as sad as his twin’s, “it feels like I haven’t seen you all week. I miss you.”

You can’t possibly say no to both of them, not when Belphie’s face is so close to yours and his lower lip trembles with too much emotion. You know he can be manipulative, but even in your bleary-eyed daze, you realize he’s being unusually honest now.

You wipe away the stray tears that pool in the corner of your eyes and nod your head. Belphie slides off the mattress so Beel can help you up, and they both hug you before they lead you outside. By the time they take you to the garden, you’re all sniffling quietly, but the twins are smiling a bit now, too.

The blanket Belphie lays across the ground keeps you from getting too cold, and you all share portions of the improvised picnic the twins packed: sandwiches, a thermos of warm soup, a container of diced cheese and poison apple slices. You don’t eat as much as the twins do, but they look content that you finished eating everything on the small plate you made for yourself. 

Beel offers you one of your cupcakes next. He brought the whole box—optimistic, Belphie said earlier, raising his eyebrows before shrugging and putting the box into the basket.

You sort of remember Beel knocking on your door earlier and asking you if you wanted one, and you know that you refused. You accept one now because you can’t bear to say no to him twice.

When the food is eaten and the dishes cleared away, Belphie lays back on the blanket and gently nudges you to lay beside him. He rolls onto his side and lays his head on your shoulder, and you can see him looking at you from the corner of your eye. 

“Have I told you the story about that star?” he asks quietly, pointing towards the sky.

He probably has, considering how much time you both spend in the planetarium together, but you lean your cheek against his brow. “You can tell me again if you want to.”

He tells you the story about that star, and the other stars near it, and when your eyes start to droop heavily with sleep, he smiles and keeps going. He whispers more stories until your breathing slows and you start snoring gently in his ear; he hopes the stories follow you into your dreams.

Beel sits nearby on the large blanket, watching over both of you with a keen eye and soft smile; his belly is warm and full from a pleasant meal and your company. Belphie carefully maneuvers himself to his knees without waking you, and he stands up and stretches out the kink in his neck. Beel stands and lifts you so gently into his arms, and he cradles you to his chest while Belphie hurriedly packs up the picnic basket and blanket. 

The house is dark and quiet when they slip back inside, and Belphie leads Beel to your room. They both tuck you in—Belphie pulls back the covers and Beel lays you down and slips off your shoes. Beel squeezes your hand and waits for his twin by your door; Belphie murmurs a final goodnight as he brushes his lips across your forehead.

The twins head back to their room, and all three of you have the best night's sleep you've had in days.

#obey me demon brothers #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #obey me leviathan #leviathan x reader #obey me satan #satan x reader #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #obey me beelzebub #beelzebub x reader #obey me belphegor #belphegor x reader #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me headcanons #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me angst #obey me fluff #obey me imagines #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #x reader #gn!reader

[stealingyourbones]

Short DPXDC Prompts #982

Dash gets a gig in Gotham as a shop mechanic. It’s not bad all things considered. The pay is decent, the work is rewarding, and his clients know not to start shit near the shop. One client he really likes talking to is Stephanie Brown. He thinks she might be a part of a biker gang or street racing group with how often she comes in for repairs on her motorcycle but he doesn’t care what she does in her spare time, all he knows is that she is one of his most consistent clients and is a delight to bicker back and forth to.

#dpxdc #danny phantom #bones prompts

[spiritcc]

EXAMINING EVERY ACE ATTORNEY CASE ON THE LIKENESS OF US BEING PAID

The topic that must be finally put to rest considering how every AA protag and money issues go hand in hand, how many cases did we actually get paid for?

PHOENIX WRIGHT: BROKE ATTORNEY

1 - literally spelled out by the game that larry left us with fuckall, a bad omen of the life to come.

2 - nothing could scare the law offices' balance sheet more than the entrance of maya, but in the frenzy of fighting for the life of our workspace we didnt even notice the whiff of the long-lasting implications.

3 - okay this is the first $u$pect that can pay our bills, no way will powers left us without a relatively phat check so GIRL WE MAKING MONEY!

4 - genuinely if edgelord somehow figured that money dont matter in a friendship, either it was my wallet that bullied him into killing himself between these games or he at least had the decency to utilise von karma's leaked pin code situation and allowed us to drain his bank account posthumously. either way my belief that edgeworth got the bill paid here is naively high.

5 - i dont care if lana was going to pay or not bc i billed her for every fucking turn she did at the detention center. either way whether her estate got arrested in the investigation or not it seems like she'd be forced to pay so im staying positive.

ACE ATTORNEY: RAMEN FOR ALL

1 - maggie. what exactly can maggie even pay me. i feel like the case was more of a friend request anyway so we're eating roaches for dinner again, but i also feel that maggie would be inclined to offer at least something. im not sure if putting down a "presumable twenty" counts as success. i'm going to go with no.

2 - maya is starting to get slightly comfortable being a liability to my expenses, this is my first warning girl.

3 - MAXIMUM GALACTIC PROFIT??? OH HE PAYIN. OH HE PAYIN EVERYTHING OUT OF HIS CLOWN ASS. CONFIRMED. FORCED.

4 - this HAS to be a case of the arrested estate being distributed towards paying the fee because i absolutely refuse to live in a world where maya's existence just keeps costing me money. engarde better have paid for it all. the gallows dont drop until he signs my check.

ACE ATTORNEY: TROUBLES AND REMUNERATION

1 - a very big question mark about what can peenie the fail art student pay and whether grossberg is someone who entertains himself a free case. the existence of case 4 may actually suggest something interesting so let's come back to this one later.

2 - i dont care what kind of crippling debt ma$k has because if his wife can allow a bike she CAN, and WILL, pay my fucking fee i dont care. she looks like the type to pay anyway.

3 - maggie. maggie, maggie, maggie. what does it matter musing on how things would've turned out differently if they had actually remembered my face in time. in either universe, this is another expense, in a crisis where my laundry bill is financially ruining me as coffee cups keep flying in my face.

4 - this is a convict already. what can a convict pay to grossberg law offices? suddenly it looks like his gig takes up on free cases bc usually this dude would get a state attorney, right? is grossberg providing such services? if we are getting paid here, it is only the bare minimum it seems, so in retrospect it IS possible for case 1 to have been completely unpaid. as for this one, marking it as unpaid bc Doubt what we'd get could even pay for a single-ply toilet paper + they'd find a way to pay out even less considering the trial technically didn't go through smh.

5 - bitchass fucking fey family, call it THE FEE FAMILY for the way NONE OF THEM ARE PAYING IT!!!! THEY PUT ME IN THE HOSPITAL!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK FRIENDSHIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Chronologically we have edgelord's two investigation games next so:

THESE TWO GAMES FOLLOW SEVERAL CASES CONDUCTED FOR A MILLIONAIRE'S OWN ENTERTAINMENT. WE DO NOT CONDONE MONEY PRIVILEDGE BEHAVIOUR AND WE BOYCOTT THE ANALYSIS OF THESE GAMES.

MONETARY JUSTICE: ACE ATTORNEY

1 - well money was probably one thing in the whole mess there, sure. Dick Wright jailed this barbie girl motherfucker just so he wouldn't pay the bill. girl we making no money era is back.

2 - weirdly enough but god might exist after all because no way the kitakis are not paying me. we are saved!!!!!

3 - in a grand twist, there is also no way that these moneyfucks are not signing me a phat one so big bet a hot meal was had that day! i think after lamiroir regained her memories she just decided that this fee was her paying off child support for both kids and fucked off forever.

4 - boy I lost my god damn job.

5 - an interesting situation here because this case was most likely sponsored by the state since it's testing out the jury system and all so. we got paid? almost three cases in a row? WOE MAMA!

ACE ATTORNEY: DOUGH'S DESTINY

1 - not this shit again. another freeloader caught up in the scheme of my monetary ruin. at the time when a teenager is feeding a company of four. peenie's new drip alone cost us six months worth of rent. girl we eating discarded prison gruel at the dumpster in this dark age of the law.

2 - oh a wrestler AND a mayor? oho. ohohohoho. ohohohohohoho.

3 - the humble beginnings of my empty wallet, innit. sure, let her get away this time. not my first rodeo.

4 - starbuck for the love of god i know they said their budget went down but he is PAYING that bill or im cutting wires on his rocket and doing phantom a favor here. he can afford to pay me.

5 - maya sure evaded leaving her footprint on my taxes but there's such a sweet difference between an employee and an independent contractor and athena saw why. sure, free case! its cost is taken out of your salary, baby. you're not eating for four months. at least.

6 - hey the aquarium folks Surely have the dough, right? they found us themselves too so that's a definite bill here.

BROKE ATTORNEY: NO SPIRIT OF JUSTICE

every case in the russian republic of village kurainovo was free which is a devastating stain on my financial report this year, remember how durke said we probably cant afford three meals per day? hello????

1 - motherfucker. this case actually cost us about 20 brazilian roubles because albi charged us for the magatama edible. the first case that lands us in the negative twenty. incredible.

2 - i fucking. if trucy thinks her main breadwinner status excuses her from freeloading a case that almost landed us in 3m debt then im selling rights to the gramarye IP to bozo the clown. family is Nothing to me. i havent eaten properly since 2016.

3 - stop fucking reminding me. not only that but fucking MAYA. THE BIGGEST EXPENSE IN MY LIFE IS BACK WITH NO JUSTICE DONE TO MY FINANCIAL WELLBEING. i havent showered in months. remember how nick told edgeworth that he "heard" that washing in the sink is good enough in the temple? so he didnt even do that himself. the lowest point of my life.

4 - with the urgency of it all and everything i have a strong suspicion the payment of this case was soba. max of what we're getting is food from that place. im shaking does this count as fair barter economy in their eyes? we're not in ancient fucking egypt.

5 - penniless, fatherless, across two countries too. whats not to like in this world. we havent seen a cent in this entire game.

6 - THE $PROKET$???? HELL YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Let's count the results:

31 cases across 6 games

13/31 cases most likely than not were paid for in acceptable capacity, which is less than a half. if we exclude cases where the situation isn't entirely clear (eg. engarde, lana), that is even less and we are looking at a third of all cases being remunerated for.

despite quite a few of the presumably paid cases involving rich clients, our gig most likely charges standardised fees, which makes the wealth of our clients irrelevant and simply further questions how much we actually made at the end of the day.

they are not lying, we really are making no money. this is concerning. ga'ran was right, fuck the attorneys just go and pick a state-backed position with the forces.

#ace attorney #finally something to get out of my system

[likedovesinthewindd]

hobie x singer gn!reader where they meet at one of the readers gigs and hobies for his eyes on them...👀

he was having a laugh at the pub w the mandem when he met them 😭 (I'm so sorry)

hobie brown x reader

He's riveted by you, just like most of the people in the dingy pub, watching intently as you did your thing on the small stage. Just a little over half of the people in the pub had their eyes on you, the rest too drunk or engrossed in conversation to really pay attention, just enjoying the music but not paying it any mind. But Hobie was, he'd been paying attention since you and your band made your way onto the stage, introducing yourselves.

He couldn't give two shits about whatever his friends were talking about at the moment, eyes trained on you as you were in your own little world, not even noticing his eyes on you in a fixed gaze, in the hopes of burning your image into his brain.

Soon enough your performance ends, and the bar gives their choppy, half assed attempt at a hand of applause with a few cheers here and there. Hobie, being the little shit that he is, broke into a cheer way to loud to be considered genuine, even throwing in a wolf whistle.

He doesn't even care about the people giving him the stink eye, because all he could focus on was you looking at him, albeit your face didn't look very impressed. You give him a once over, frown present on your face before thanking everyone and you making your way down the stage.

After a while Hobie sees you emerging from the crowd, making your way to the bar, and he thinks it's now or never, leaving his friends without a word and making his way to the bar

"A1 performance up there," he says moving into the chair next to you, "if I had roses I'd 'ave been throwin 'em." And you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at that. "Are you trying to be funny?" you asked, sounding irritated at the stranger. "Not at all," he said, and you couldn't tell if his voice was laced with genuineness or sarcasm. "really enjoyed it."

"Yeah, I could tell," you retorted, referring to the stunt he pulled earlier tonight. He could see your hesitation in wanting to talk to him very clearly written on your face, but he didn't miss the interest that sparked in your eyes. "How 'bout a buy you a drink, yeah? Then I'll tell you how much I enjoyed your performance," he said and you gave him another quick scan now that he was much closer to you. He wasn't bad looking, not at all actually, and you found yourself considering his offer.

"That was an awful chat up line," you laughed once the words registered in your brain, "but it worked."

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown #spiderman atsv #likedovesinthewindd

[sophswritingthings]

ruin my life -- chapter 1

| warning(s): light swearing |

| a/n: modern mizu had such a grip on me, and now were here. |

| summary: an overlook into mizu's life before you enter it. |

| song rec: ruin my life -- zolita (for the story, in general) |

| word count: 776 words / 4,211 characters |

______________________________________________________________

mizu always kept to herself, she was never the loud type. always played a background role, even if people thought she should be in the spotlight.

never had she believed that before she met eiji.

eiji was an alumni at her school.. one of the many famous actors the school had produced. the amount of actors they had produced is why she really wanted to go to the school, in the first place.

and meeting him kind of changed her whole perception of her own talent, of her own mind. if someone who was so great could tell her all these great things about herself, they were true, surely.

"listen here, kid, nobody ever did anything by sitting on their ass and never getting anything done," he furrowed his eyebrows as they walked side by side, through the halls of the marbled school. "I know that better than anyone. you remind me of myself, when I went here."

she arched one eyebrow, "how come? im.. nothing like you, I mean.. you're this great actor and im just.. a college student who can barley pay their own tuition."

he gently gripped her shoulder, nodding, "exactly. do you think I was some great guy while I was in college? I didn't come from riches, kid, I could barley pay for this college when I was your age."

she adverted her gaze, a little sigh leaving her lips, "suppose that's true," mizu mumbled.

"and ive heard you do fencing," he tapped his cane against the ground, "as did i."

"oh--yeah. yeah, I know," a small smile crossed her lips. "its part of the reason I wanted to start. sort of, I guess."

"its a noble practice," he nodded, smiling a bit. "may I request to meet you, again, mizu? after your classes, tomorrow."

her eyes widened, gazing at him. someone as great as him, wanted anything to do with them?

"um, uh, yes." she stammered, "I'll meet you here."

and from then on, that's what they'd do. hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks that she would meet eiji for both fencing practice, and acting/college advice.

eiji was basically the father she had never had, someone to inspire her, push her forward.

her college life had improved, a little. not by much, but a little. she still lived in a small-ass college dorm with three other girls, sharing two sets of bunk beds in the room the size of a walk in closet.

"mizu? hey?" one of the girls, carrie, seemed to take an interest in her early. and of course, she had settled on the top bunk of mizu's bed. the girl popped down, swinging her head over mizu's bed. "you doin' anything tomorrow? me and some friends were going out and--"

mizu's head had almost immediately blocked out any word she said. she didn't want anything to do with this girl, nor what she was offering. she seemed to be the kind of girl to cling and never leave, and she was not about that. she'd come home crying over some new girl every week, she could guess, crying that they said she was "too clingy".

"uh--yeah. im working," mizu hissed, never looking up from her phone.

that wasn't a lie, actually, she had work at her average pay job as a barista. she had been working there ever since she got accepted into the college, how else would she pa her tuition?

not that it helped, much, it wasn't the best pay ever. and her tuition was more than 50,000 dollars a year--she was going to be in debt for more days than she thought she could count. but if she managed (and hopefully she would, with eijis help) to get a good gig, or few, she could pay it off in no time.

the coffee shop wasn't too bad, though. customers were usually quiet, besides the few that would come in every so often. she'd get okay tips, considering she tried to be as respectful as she could.

she had her friends. none of which attended the same school--they all had different majors. whom she considered her best friend, akemi, was in harvard law school miles away from them. taigen had gotten into law school, too, just not the same. (he definitely wasn't smart enough for harvard, that's for sure.) and ringo, the sweet culinary major she'd met going out for drinks, one night, with akemi. he was a mixologist, and despite his lack of hands--he was a wonderful one.

her life was calm. her life was quiet.

there was never anything absolutely interesting, about it.

that was--until you walked into it.

______________________________________________________________

#mizu #mizu x you #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #blue eye samurai #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #part 1 #modern au #bes #blue eyed samurai fanfic #x reader

[devildomwriter]

One Little Thing, A Ring Part III | Mammon x Reader

.6K Words | GN Reader | CW: Angst

With Lucifer’s help, a wardrobe change, and strict instructions, Mammon had landed a decent paying gig. The only place that would hire him was the Demon Lord’s Castle and Mammon had his work cut out.

Barbatos delighted in putting Mammon to work as much as possible. He and Diavolo knew why Mammon was there and as two men who’d also competed for your heart, they were going to make Mammon work for you. It was meant to be educational but it was also for their own satisfaction as some sense of revenge.

“I still don’t understand. Why Mammon?” Diavolo asked Lucifer as they sipped on their tea and watched Mammon prune the roses from the balcony.

“___ has peculiar taste.” Lucifer complained.

“Careful Mammon, that’s our favorite bush,” Barbatos called down to him and Mammon audibly panicked and with trembling hands started carefully trimming branches down one by one.

“Must you tease him?” Lucifer asked and Barbatos grinned.

“I must, yes. ___ deserves nothing less than perfect so we must ensure that that is what they receive. If we cannot give that to them, we must make sure Mammon does.”

Diavolo nodded in agreement with his butler and paused after taking another sip. “You know…they could always be interested in polygamy. If not now then later down the road. Surely Mammon as entertaining as he can be can’t provide for them like any of us could.”

Lucifer nodded and sipped his tea. “I agree. Thanks to their magic they’ll live a very long time. We must be patient, that’s all.”

Diavolo nodded but Lucifer could notice the small shake as he set the tea down gently. Everyone reacted in their own ways to your relationship with Mammon and Diavolo did his best to bottle it up but sometimes he couldn’t help small moments of sadness or anger slipping through.

The labor intensive work he was putting Mammon through was one example. Mammon wasn’t aware of it but Diavolo intended to pay whatever the cost may be for the ring Mammon thought best for you. Diavolo wouldn’t allow you to be disappointed.

“Speaking of ___, where are they right now?” Barbatos inquired as he kept his eye trained on Mammon who was attempting to use hedge clippers.

“I believe they’re doing some kind of job with the sorcerer’s association.”

“Taking on odd jobs?” Diavolo asked, curious.

Lucifer shrugged, “they aren’t talking much about it. They’re very tired by the time they come home. Not only do they have work but then they must portal themselves into another dimension and do it all again in a few hours.”

“Mm…it’s odd they’d take on a job like that considering they can do essentially anything they wanted to,” Diavolo speculated and it stayed silent as they listened to Mammon panic as he stumbled upon a nest of Hellfire Wasps.

“Oh dear…I suppose I ought to call for the exterminator,” Barbatos sighed. “Perhaps Mammon could work.”

Lucifer’s brow furrowed. “No. Call a professional before the situation worsens.” Lucifer advised but truly he was worried Mammon would get stung to hell and as much as he was jealous right now, he wasn’t going to let Barbatos and Diavolo thrust Mammon into agonizing danger.

Diavolo knew that’s why Lucifer made the suggestion and relented for his friend’s sake. “That’s most advisable,” he nodded and Lucifer relaxed into his chair as he heard Mammon screaming and running across the yard.

Mammon was fast enough to escape but began crashing into things in the process. Lucifer glanced at Barbatos who was eying him exasperatedly.

“Send the bill later.”

Barbatos nodded, “I could deduct it from his pay.”

Lucifer waved his hand in disagreement, “just send the bill.”

Just as Lucifer began feeling bad for Mammon, Mammon scaled the wall and used Lucifer as a shield against the wasps. The wasps were instantly vaporized from Lucifer’s magic as he tore Mammon a new one for leading dangerous creatures straight to the prince.

Part I • Part II • Part IV • Part V

#obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me fluff #obey me story #one little thing series #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me angst #obey me 25 days of christmas #25 days of obey me christmas

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 9

Hello! Thank you so much for the out pouring of support last time. I love that everyone loved the tattoo idea. If you want to see a basic idea of what it would look like, check the reblogs of part 8 (though if I had the energy I would throw into an editing program I’d skinny up the sword a bit and make the wings wider).

We meet the candidates for the apprenticeship and we learn the history of Jeff’s tattoo (warning for racism and bad cops) and Eddie’s reason for the wings.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

*

Steve walked back to the front the little paper in his shaking hands.

“I’ve already had a couple people this morning asking about the apprentice gig,” Robin told him. “When should I have them come in?”

Steve rubbed him bottom lip thoughtfully. “I don’t have to go to Dustin’s until 5pm on Sunday, so have them all come at 10am then.”

Robin nodded. “He choose a design then?” she asked, nodded to the paper in his hand.

Steve nodded back his lips pressed together as he handed it to her to scan.

She looked down at it in shock. “He picked this one?”

Steve nodded again, unsure if he could trust himself to speak.

“This is going to take a long time and a lot of money,” Robin whispered. “He’s aware of that, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve croaked. “He knows. He was very insistent and is able to pay for it. All of it.”

Robin nodded. “Then let’s get this bad boy printed for him then.”

She printed it into three pieces. One for each wing and one for the sword.

When he came back into the room, Eddie was laying on his chest with his shirt off. Steve licked his lips as his eyes trailed down the plains of Eddie’s back to where it dipped into the man’s jeans.

This was going to be a lot harder than he thought it was going to be.

“Okay,” Steve said after taking a moment to compose himself. “What we are going to do is trace the outlines and then we’ll spend two to three hours each week, working on it. It will probably take about ten to twelve weeks, doing it once a week. So if you want to move it up two days a week, I would recommend that.”

Eddie twisted to face him. “Yeah, I figured it was going to take some time. When I set up my appointments with Robin, I’ll make sure to do twice a week.”

“Sounds good,” Steve said, pulling on the latex gloves and sitting down. He scooted as close to Eddie as he could and picked his gun.

“You know,” he murmured over the sound of the gun. “I don’t think you ever said why you wanted the tattoo so badly you waited to find the right person to do it for you. And thanks for trusting me with it by the way.”

“You’re welcome,” Eddie said. “The work you did on Jeff’s tattoo was phenomenal. It was a very personal tattoo for him and you made it special. Did he tell you how got the scar he wanted you to cover up?”

Steve hummed, placing the first stencil down. “Yeah, something about how when Miranda and him first starting dating, someone called the cops on him, thinking he was kidnapping her. And how despite both of them saying they were on a date and Jeff having his hands up, the cop still fired, hitting his right arm.”

Eddie nodded. “It was messed up. He thought for sure Miranda was going to book it, but they stayed together and it’s been five years now.”

“So he got it for the fifth anniversary?” Steve asked, concentrating on the outline.

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “It was Miranda’s suggestion, actually.”

“They seem like great people.”

Eddie smiled fondly. “The best. I think he’s still working up the courage to ask her to marry him.”

Steve laughed. “He better hurry up otherwise Robin might try and steal her from him.”

Eddie laughed too. “Well considering they both swing for both teams, she might actually have a chance.”

“Oh god,” Steve said as he finished the first wing. “Don’t tell Robin that. She might actually try. And I don’t want to mess up a good thing, you know?”

“Fair.”

Eddie chewed on his bottom lip a moment. “But, yeah, the tattoo. It’s to commemorate a poor boy from the trailer park making it in the big city to play music for a living. Actually fucking making it.”

Steve smiled. “And the bat wings were for the aesthetic?”

“Hell yeah they are,” Eddie replied with a grin. “But, holy shit, Stevie. The sword of fucking Kas...it’s like you read my mind or some shit.”

Steve lifted the gun as he laughed. “Nah, I just listened when you and Dustin talked about it.”

Eddie adjusted himself in the chair and loosened the muscles in his shoulders a bit. He settled and nodded. “You did really good, sweetheart. I love it.”

They just fell into conversation as easy as breathing and far too soon Steve was done with the outline.

Steve pulled off his gloves, having set aside the gun already. “Go on, it’s not much to look at right now, but the bare bones are pretty fucking all right.’’

Eddie immediately bounced to his feet to go look in the mirror. He turned every direction and after a moment of watching him Steve stood up with a large hand mirror and tilted it until Eddie could see his back.

Eddie let out a gasp. “Holy fucking shit. This is going to be so epic. I can’t wait!”

Steve smiled fondly. “I’m glad it’s starting out okay, at least.”

Eddie grinned at him through the mirror. “It’s absolutely wicked.”

“Do you have someone who can rub the lotion on your back?” Steve asked, biting his bottom lip.

Eddie nodded. “The guys have offered to take turns helping me with it until it’s done.”

Steve hummed. He was a little disappointed. He was going to offer to do it for him. But it was a bit of a relief, knowing Eddie had such good friends that were willing to take care of him.

“That’s sweet of them,” he murmured, taking the time to gently wrap the tattoo the best he could in Saran wrap to protect it on the way home.

Eddie scoffed. “They only offered because they’re excitable children who want a sneak peak at the tattoo before anyone else.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, okay. That sounds like what I’d seen of them.”

Eddie turned around once Steve was done and grinned at him. “Am I going to see you at Nightmare Holes again this weekend?”

Steve winced. “I want to but I can’t this weekend. I’m meeting a couple people on Sunday morning morning and I cannot be hungover for that.’

Eddie huffed out a small chuckle. “Maybe.”

Steve shoved at him playfully. “I’ll make it up to you. Why don’t you come over again next Monday and I’ll make dinner for us again.”

Eddie’s eyes lit up. “That sounds great, wha’cha making?”

“What do you like?” Steve asked as he cleaned up. “Italian, Chinese, Mexican? Something else? I’m sure I could find a good recipe in time.”

Eddie tapped his lip with his index finger thoughtfully. “Can you do sesame chicken?”

Steve grinned. “Oh, I knew there was a reason I liked you. I love sesame chicken and have a kick ass recipe, I think you’ll love.”

Eddie grinned back. “Can’t wait pretty boy.”

Steve flicked his cleaning rag at Eddie’s ass. “Now go on, some of us poor schlubs have to work hard for our living, rock star.”

Eddie laughed in delight as he skipped away from Steve’s deadly aim with his rag. He got to the door and saluted, before turning on his heel and walking back to the front desk, shirt in hand.

*

Steve picked up a dozen donuts and coffees for him and Robin. Robin had already gone in to open the shop for the interviewees so he felt he owed it to her to at least get her coffee and donuts.

When he got to the shop he was a little surprised how many cars were out front. They couldn’t all be there for the apprenticeship, could they? He walked into see the entire waiting room filled with applicants.

He turned to Robin and she looked as shocked as he was. He set the donuts in front Robin’s desk and handed her the coffee.

“Hello,” he said turning around to greet the...he quickly counted, the six hopefuls. “I’m Steve Harrington and welcome to Royal Pain. You’re all welcome to have a donut and we have water and paper cups over to the side.” He gestured to where it was and most head turned to see where he meant.

“Is this really a tattoo parlor, man?” one of the applicants asked. He was what Steve would have stereotyped a California surfer boy. Bleach blond hair that fell to his shoulders, tanned skin, dark blue eyes that were currently glaring at Steve.

Steve let his shoulders roll back as he regarded the man in question. “What? The bright, colorful design precludes it from being a place people come to get tattoos, how?”

The guy leveled another glare at Steve and then leapt to his feet. “Whatever, this blows. I’m out of here.” He stormed out, pushing the door so hard it clanged against the wall harshly.

Steve looked at the remaining five. “Anyone else have a problem with the aesthetics?”

There were people that exchanged glances, but they ended up all shaking their heads no.

“Good.”

A pretty blonde girl with bright green eyes and a sparkling smile raised her hand.

“Yes?” Steve asked pointing at her.

“Not to be lumped in with the asshole that just left,” she began shyly, “but I really don’t see any tattoos on you and, well...”

Steve grinned. “And it makes it a little hard to trust me as a tattoo artist, right?”

She nodded, her high pony tail bouncing as she did.

Robin rolled her eyes, but wisely said nothing. Steve showed her his right forearm. “I didn’t do this one, this is the first tattoo I got though.” It was of a small vanilla ice cream cone. “I got this after my first real job at an ice cream shop that burned down.”

A lot of eyebrows shot up at that, but no one uttered a word.

He pulled at his collar showing a female robin on his shoulder right below the clavicle. “Got this one when my best friend turned twenty-one. She has a matching tattoo in the same place.”

He pulled up his shirt to show a lion devouring a bloody heart on his right side. “My friends called my lion-hearted, my detractors called me a bleeding heart, so I got this.”

Steve put his shirt down. “Yeah, I don’t look like your stereotypical tattoo artist that has their whole body covered in tats. But I’m one of those weirdos that only gets a tattoo if it means something to me. But make no mistake I’m good. I have had this shop for three years and only been a tattooist for five. And I’m taking on apprentices because this shop is so busy I need the help to lighten the load.”

The girl blushed. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, heaving a heavy sigh. “People who look like me don’t usually become tattoo artists and I think that’s stupid. It shouldn’t just be a certain kind of person that has dyed black hair, piercings, and their body of work all over their body.”

She nodded. “I get what you mean.”

Steve smiled at her. “I figured you would.” He knew that if she was any good, he was going to pick her, hands down.

“Right,” he said turning his attention back to everyone. “I wasn’t expecting so many of you and I realize that isn’t fair to you. If you have somewhere else to be today, make an appointment with Robin,” he cocked his head her direction, “and I’ll meet with you personally at another time. But otherwise, I’ll have Robin call you in the order you arrived and we’ll talk in my room.”

He clapped his hands. “First, let’s give you a tour of the place and if you decide it’s not for you. No hard feelings. Except that guy.” He winked at them and they laughed.

He showed them his room and the other rooms that would be for the apprentices to practice in or once they got their own chair if they stayed, it would become their room.

One of the other guys decided that it wasn’t for him and Steve was left with four remaining hopefuls.

And what a strange bunch they were, too. He had the prep girl, but he also had a native boy that while he didn’t look the part of the surfer dude, embodied it with his very soul. If the guy got brought on, Steve would have to pull him aside and make sure he didn’t do marijuana at work, because the guy looked a little baked at the moment. He also had a Goth chick complete with the tattoos and piercings, and dyed black hair. She stuck out like a sore thumb, if Steve was honest. And the final hopeful was  this squirrely looking guy with dark wavy brown hair.

All of them had more tattoos than Steve did.

He sighed to himself. He wasn’t sure this was going to work out. He knew he shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, better than most, but still as he looked at the remaining applicants he felt a little disappointed.

He sighed and went back to the office to wait for Robin to call the first one in. It was going to be a long day.

***

Part 10  Part 11 Part 12  Part 13 Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18 Part 19  Part 20  Part 21   Part 22  Part 23  Part 24  Part 25 Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Epilogue

Look, I love Robin with all my heart, but we all know the reason she didn’t ask Vickie out wasn’t that she had a boyfriend, but that her partner was a boy. She would 100% back off if told to, but she would so go for it if she thought had a chance. (Looking at you Ronance shippers, if you think that Robin was flirting with Nancy in the Upside Down, Nancy was still with Jonathan at the time.)

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk​ @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination 

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #tattoo artist steve

[littlejuicebox]

Plumber’s Crack(fic) / Leaky Pipes

I wrote this for an April Fool’s challenge. You can all thank @vixstarria for influencing me and for this monstrosity coming from that one single tag. AO3 link here.

This is written to be intentionally bad smut. Proceed if you want psychic damage.

Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav

Summary: In a Modern AU, Tav is looking for an expert escort roleplay experience. She gets far more than she expected.

Astarion sighs as he pulls up to a small, ranch style-house with a bunch of flamingo— no, goose… what the fuck?— garden ornaments. He glances at the number over the garage – 401 Pink Clam Street; yes, this is the right address. He pulls down the visor and watches himself in the mirror as he attaches the stupid fucking fake mustache he has to wear on these house calls. Mr. Szarr said no one trusts a plumber without facial hair… what the hell is he on, anyway?

He cannot wait until he is able to quit. This was supposed to be a temporary gig. But now it’s been years, he’s still stuck in this seemingly dead-end job, and truly, everything about it makes his skin crawl. Toilets, clumps of hair in the sink, sticking himself in small, confined spaces… gods, it’s all horrible. He sighs and climbs out of the work van. Time to just… get it over with.

*

When Tav hears the knock on the door, her eyebrows crinkle. She glances at the clock atop her vanity. It’s eleven in the morning – they’re two hours early. Well, perhaps they’re really in character… don’t plumbers normally come at any other time besides the time they actually say they will? She asked for realistic roleplay this time, unlike what she got from the last crap escort she hired. She’s getting what she’s paying for, at least.

She opens the door and is shocked to see a ridiculously handsome man standing at the entryway. She knew escorts were attractive but– well, she hadn’t exactly expected a greek god in a plumber’s uniform. Turns out, she’s definitely getting what she’s paying for this time around.

“Are you Ms. Tav…” Astarion pauses as he stares down at the word on the clipboard. He lifts an eyebrow. No, that can’t be right.

“Pusey? Yes, that’s me.”

“Can you spell that for me, ma’am?”

Tav blinks. This guy is… really taking the part seriously. “P-U-S-E-Y.”

Astarion nods as he stares down at the form in his hand. Mr. Szarr spelled it wrong on the form, of course. He’s going to have to fix it before she fills out the bottom half at the end. He glances back up to acknowledge the woman; she looks like she’s about to go pose for Playboy at any moment. She’s gorgeous, he has to admit. “I’m Astarion, the plumber. I’m told you need some assistance with your rim holes?”

Tav giggles. It’s time for her to play along. She puts on her best sultry face as she says, “Oh, yes. My rim holes are… definitely in need of your expertise. Please come inside.”

Astarion steps into the house. It’s small, but well-kept and well-decorated. It seems as if she lives entirely alone. “Where is your bathroom, ma’am?”

“I’ll show you,” Tav responds as she begins to head down the hallway. “I apologize, it’s very, very dirty.”

They walk into the bathroom and Astarion looks around. It isn’t dirty at all. Was she making a joke? He puts down his tools, opens the toilet lid, and begins to examine the commode.

“Is it true that… plumbers are good at laying pipe?”

Astarion glances up at the woman. She’s leaning against the doorframe, the picture of seduction. Her silk robe is slipping off her frame; she’s wearing a thin nightie underneath. She really does look like a Playboy centerfold. He swallows. “Yes, ma’am… it’s definitely an important part of the job. Perhaps the most important part. No one wants a plumber that can’t lay pipe.”

“Are you good at laying pipe, Astarion?”

He swallows again and stands. This was… not usually how these things went. “I would consider myself an expert, yes.”

“Then why don’t you show me how good you are at it?”

She’s got him by the coverall strap before he can protest, and her lips crash into his with reckless abandon. She smells wonderful, she’s gorgeous, and she seems to be very into him so it does not take long for Astarion to reciprocate. They’re caught in an embrace in the middle of the bathroom.

Tav breaks the kiss, and when she pulls away, she cannot help but giggle. Astarion’s fake mustache is dangling half off his face.

“Fuck this,” Astarion growls, and he rips the mustache off before eagerly wrapping his hands around the woman. He lifts her onto the bathroom counter and begins hiking up her nightie; he notices she isn’t wearing anything underneath. She’s unclipping his coveralls; they drop down around his ankles.

“Snake my leaky drain, Astarion,” Tav demands, her hands coming to pull his cock from his tighty whities.

He’s honestly surprised by her forwardness. But he does as she asks and quickly sinks himself inside her. He doesn’t last particularly long; he’s a bit embarrassed, but it’s not like he’s ever going to see this woman again. He isn’t so inconsiderate as to leave her without finishing, of course… it just… takes a while. A long while. His hand starts to cramp toward the end.

When the two of them are finished, Astarion runs a hand through his hair and looks around the bathroom. Tav is still on the counter, her hair a mess of tangled curls; one of her fake lashes is falling off. Well… at least they were both wearing fake body hair.

He glances at his wrist watch. Shit– he needs to complete the job and get out of here; he has another assignment later this afternoon. He coughs and tries his best to return to his professional role. “If you… give me a couple minutes to finish up here, I’ll be out of your way, ma’am.”

“Oh… of course.” Tav says and she slips from the counter and tugs her nightgown back down. “Take all the time you need, I’ll be out there with your payment when you’re ready.”

After a couple minutes, Astarion exits the restroom. It took him a bit longer than usual because he had to fill out a new form with the proper spelling of the client’s name. Tav is waiting for him in the kitchen with a smile. “I need a signature from you here, Ms. Pusey.”

Tav obliges and signs the piece of paper. Then she pulls out her wallet. “How much?”

“Five hundred.” Astarion murmurs as he tears off her receipt and hands it to her.

She nods and pulls out six bills. “There’s an extra hundred, for you, of course.”

“Oh. Thank you, ma’am.”

She pulls him into another kiss. “You’re one of the best plumbers I’ve had so far. I might be… contacting your company for your services again sometime.”

Astarion smiles and nods. He sticks the cash in his pocket. He’s not quite sure if he actually wants to be contacted by her or not after this… somewhat embarrassing situation, but he appreciates the sentiment all the same. “I’ll be on my way.”

Tav walks him to the front door. Then she quickly hops in the shower to clean off the evidence of their tryst. When she returns to the kitchen, she sees a text from her landlord.

Ms. Pusey, I forgot to mention this earlier. A plumber should be by this morning, around 11:00 to fix an issue with your toilet we noticed on our biannual walkthrough. His name is Astarion. Please pay him for his services; we will reimburse you once you provide the receipt. Apologies for any inconvenience.

She blinks at the text message. Wait a second…

The doorbell rings. She leaves her phone on the counter. She rips open the front door to reveal… a large, muscular man, dressed in a plumber's uniform.

The man roams his eyes over Tav and smirks mischievously before leaning his arm against the doorframe and staring down at her. His voice is low and suggestive as he speaks. “Hello, Ms. Pusey. My name is Hal Sin. I’m told you have some leaky pipes in need of immediate attention?”

#smut #astarion smut #crack fic #April fools fic #April fools challenge #what is wrong with me #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x female oc #Astarion modern au #bg3 modern au

[total-drama-brainrot]

Saw this somewhere and wanted to throw it your way, sorry if you’ve been asked this before but what do you think of the concept of Noah always having been an assistant (even before the first season)/never playing as a contestant would look like?

The thing about Noah as a contestant is that he's, for all intents and purposes, kind of useless. And by that I mean Noah as a character isn't important to the plot at all in the grand scheme of things. He's barely important from an episodic point of view either; Noah does very little throughout Total Drama in terms of story relevance, and just in general. (Lazy king 👑.)

So taking him out of the equation wouldn't really affect too much in the grand scheme of things, save for probably preventing his friendship with Owen and, from a fanon standpoint, the rest of team E-scope. He'd be pretty much the same person, just behind the camera instead of on it.

But that's kind of a boring answer, and not at all what you were looking for, right?

So, let's say that Noah lands himself a job working as the personal assistant for some hot-shot A-list celebrity through one of his many siblings' various contacts; is it nepotism? Probably. But who's Noah to look a gift horse in the mouth? A fairly easy job following some pretentious asshole around all day and grabbing him the occasional coffee sounds like a pretty sweet gig, especially with the salary and various benefits that come with the job description. So Noah takes the job without question.

And that's how he finds himself stuck in the middle of nowhere, Muskoka, on an undisclosed island owned by said A-lister whilst he films the first season of his new Reality TV show, Total Drama Island.

Being Chris' personal assistant was supposed to be an easy pay check. "Supposed to be" being the point of interest there; Noah didn't anticipate Chris being as sadistic or as childishly needy as he was. If he wasn't running around like a headless chicken trying to accommodate for Chris' oftentimes outlandish whims and fancies, he was stuck answering to the producers in the host's stead- and the producers were pissed with Chris more often than not for his frivolous use of the show's budget. Something about having a genius level IQ and enough snark to make grown men cry apparently made him qualified enough to deal with the industry big-wigs. Noah was far too overworked to question it.

So much for an easy pay check.

Noah's not bad at his job by any means. In his professional opinion, the whole show and Chris' career would be in the dumps without his personal input keeping everything afloat. That doesn't mean he doesn't loathe his job with every sleep-deprived inch of his being.

And, inevitably, Noah ends up spending a lot of time around the campers themselves. Mostly as a consequence of always having to remain "on set" so to speak, since Noah's pretty much contractually obligated to linger around Chris' vicinity and wait for his boss to assign him some menial task to do. Most of the campers are just as egocentric and insufferable as he'd first assumed- and honestly, what else would he expect from people who singed up for a Reality TV show?- but a select few turn out to be decent company; namely Owen and Eva (and Izzy, but Noah refuses to admit that the "Psycho Hose Beast" is actually bearable to be around).

He'd even go so far as to claim they were friends good acquaintances.

Of course, his job takes precedent over frivolous things like relationships, platonic or otherwise, so Noah doesn't exactly have the free time to hang out with them. Which is probably for the best considering if he did spend a lot of time around his friends acquaintances, the other contestants would have a solid enough foundation for accusations of foul play in the competition, and that's a headache Noah really doesn't want to deal with.

Consequently, Noah floats through the filming of Island, and later on Action, maintaining cordiality with his little group and cold indifference towards pretty much the rest of the cast. Not that he doesn't keep close tabs on the campers; of course he does, not only is Noah incredibly observant by nature, but he's also the one in charge of accommodating for these weirdos... plus, Chris is oddly invested in his "prize cast of ratings jewels", whatever that means. So Noah knows these people, probably more than some of them know themselves, thanks to a combined sixteen-ish weeks of observation and forced proximity.

In turn, the competitors know of Noah, though for the most part he's regarded as little more than a spectre on set- Chris' elusive personal assistant who the cast will occasionally see the barest glimpse of, usually hidden behind an impassive pair of mirrored sunglasses and, more often than not, rushing off to do whatever it is a PA does. Chris does get a little lazy in Action and on a few occasions does get Noah to make a "guest appearances" on screen- mostly just to deliver him a coffee and a gluten free muffin during the downtime of that day's challenge- but he's still practically non-existent to he majority of the cast.

Which is fine by him.

What isn't fine by him is the surprise addition of two people he knows nothing about, come the third season.

One of those contestants happens to know a lot about the cast, and a concerning amount of information about him. It's uncanny, just how much Sierra seems to know about everyone around her, even more so because of the way she practically worships the ground they walk on. Sure, Noah's encountered the odd super fan here and there- not fans of himself, of course, but in this time as Chris' assistant he's had to chase off more than enough rabid fans from trying to sneak their way onto the set of whatever show Chris was working on (or more accurately sic the on-scene security on them)- but Sierra's brand of crazy takes it to a whole new level. Noah doesn't like her on principle and is both incredibly vindicated and incredibly concerned when her stalkerish behaviour rears its ugly head. Not that he's allowed to do anything about it; the producers are adamant that Sierra's outlandish behaviour is entertaining enough for the audience to ignore the immorality, and given how much Chris has been allowed tog et away with in the past Noah's inclined to begrudgingly agree.

And the other new contestant? The one who qualified for the apparently non-existent Total Drama Dirtbags (and Noah totally isn't salty about that show being an elaborate ruse that he spent countless sleepless nights working on)? Noah's just as concerned about his friends acquaintances ignorance to Alejandro's inherent sliminess as he is about Sierra's blatant disregard for others' privacy, but again it's not like he can do anything about it. He's not even supposed to be on the show, so any sort of interference would be a big no-no.

Oh, what's that? They want him on the show?

Fuck.

Turns out, Noah's brief appearances during Action (characterised by his usual level of sass and snide comments) really resonated with their audience; they like him for some inexplicable reason, and want to see more of "Noah, Chris McLean's mysterious personal assistant".

So he's pretty much forced into acting as a co-host of sorts, much like Chef had done for the first two seasons, all whilst carrying out his usual tasks. Is he happy about this? Not a chance in hell, and he lets the producers know exactly how he feels about the sudden change in his contract. Not that it changes anything.

And the best part? World Tour is a musical themed season. If they expect him to sing, they've got another thing coming.

But, as a small part of him chimes in, spending more time on camera would give Noah plenty of opportunities to spend time with his friends acquaintances. There's a non-zero chance that he could have fun, even if it's at the expense of his valued privacy.

His new status as part of the show does allow Noah some opportunities to skew the competition in the favour of his friends acquaint- no, screw it, his friends. That's one silver lining of the whole situation.

Better yet, he can tilt things out of Alejandro's favour, since the former Dirtbag seems to have a knack for manipulating the competition anyway- Noah might as well make things more challenging for him, as it seems this game is too easy for him thus far.

#that's just my take on it i guess #in short: noah's a tad bit more isolated and a lot more vindictive. mostly against the producers though. #i imagine a noah who didn't sign up for total drama would value his anonymity a lot more. THIS noah isn't looking for fame or notoriety. #he's just looking for Cash Money. #as such being forced into the limelight would make him grumpier than usual. #he spends the majority of world tour trying to get alejandro eliminated because he's the producer's favourite. no other reason. #al the while being as unhelpful and outright antagonistic as possible as a “co-host”. #mostly to make himself as unmarketable and unlikable as possible so the audience don't want him to stay around. #ironically this only makes him more popular. noah hates it. #he also spends the majority of world tour trying to prevent sierra from leaking people's private information to varied results. #noah's a voice of reason in a cacophony of screaming. no matter how loud he shouts he'll never be heard. #can't decide whether i want him and blaineley to team up post-merge or for them to be enemies on sight. #total drama #td noah #assistant noah au #others' ideas #silly ideas #ophe's ranting in the tags again #long post #replies #kinda drafty in here (posts from the drafts)

[acourtoflostandwanderingstars]

ModernCollegeAU! ACOTAR headcanons

p.1 -- the bat bois

i loved writing this, addign all the little detail and working on fleshing out this world

i may or may not already have a fic in the planning stages

anyways, enjoy the sfw version of the bat boys (slightly suggestive but nothing super explicit)

BAT BOYS:

They met each other by joining the same fraternity

That’s where the whole ‘brother’ thing started

Ever since, they’ve been pretty damn inseparable

They are drop-dead gorgeous

Like, everyone on campus wants to sleep with them

And, to be real, it sometimes feels like they have

They’re in a band together, and it would be called ‘The Bat Boys’ [inspo elenana.art on insta]

They play at shitty, underground clubs because as rich as Rhys’ father is, and as little as he seems to care, Rhys kinda doesn’t want him finding out

And Rita’s, of course

He is paying for a majority of the amenities the school has implemented

And most of his tuition

The band does make them more appealing – adds an edge to already ridiculously attractive men

They are the upperclassmen that freshmen are warned about going into college

Now that they have moved on from the fraternity, their apartment has become a hotspot for parties

The biggest parties on campus

Landing an invitation to one is akin to being personally invited by a celebrity to hang out with other celebrities

I feel bad for their neighbors

They are decent enough in the day though

They keep their yard clean and trimmed, they are considerate of parking regulations, they know the names of their neighbors

Which, by the way, is a pretty big deal because their neighbors cycle in and out fairly frequently

On campus, they have a gig revolving around tutoring going

Rhys heads up the operation, Azriel is elusive and can be hard to book, and Cass is usually just there for moral support

But they are frequently booked out

(Some are suspicious that studying isn’t the only thing that happens)

It can make finding free-time very difficult during finals

So they designated Rita’s as their hangout place

They can be found there most Saturday nights

They pregame there most of the time too

Y’know, since they have to host a party during the game

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AZRIEL:

Azriel is the quiet, elusive homebody

He’s definitely bi

And everyone positively drools over this man

And the rumors that spiral around him?

Don’t get me started 

(They mostly revolve around bedroom behavior and wingspan [iykyk])

They are well known on and off of campus, somehow

One of the bat boy’s neighbors is an old, grandmotherly lady

And she teases him endlessly about the rumors

(Much to Rhys’ chargain and Cassian’s endless amusement)

He’s in school for business and computer science, but he’s dabbled in some art– [because i read Midnight Muse by @azsazz ~ 10/10 would recommend]

Nothing too specific, just art

He loves things that revolve around the dark lines and spaces in between

Like inks and charcoals

So he’s considered ditching computer science for art school after he graduates in business

No one’s 100% sure where he works

He’s very dodgy about it

He is totally a cat dad – he found three black kittens in the dumpster

The one behind the dormitories and the greasy pizza place next to them

(He and Cassian had gone dumpster diving for pizza)

So he picked them up while Cassian enjoyed his pizza

The first two he kept and named Wisp and Wisteria

The third Cassian requested for a girl he was seeing

Azriel didn’t find out until much later that he gave it to Nesta (who named him Bryaxis)

Anyways, he used to have a major crush on Rhys’ cousin, Mor

Until Cassian’s current gf brought her sister to a party

He’s figured out where she works

He figured it out quickly – within the first week following the party

The little flower shop

Now he needs to figure out an excuse to go there

He owns a motorcycle

It’s like the one big purchase he made for himself

It adds to the intrigue

To the untrained eye, he’s a man of the shadows

The mysterious bassist that rides a motorcycle, ever elusive

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CASSIAN:

Cassian is in school for Project Management and a minor in the Science in Health and Human Performance

He works at two of the campus’ gyms, and one off site

No one is sure where he gets the time

Or the energy

Which he seems endlessly full of

His freshman/sophmore year, he signed up for the dorm warming committee

He got kicked out because he brought barbells and beer

(Which were not meant to be served to the freshman)

(The beer, that is)

Morale had never been higher, though

He’s a junior on the books

But because he’s failed enough classes to count for a semester or two, he’s technically a senior

The only reason he didn’t flunk out was because of Rhys

Actually, he started (aka was the first customer of) Rhys’ monopoly over the tutoring business, and now shows up purely for ‘emotional support’ (Rhys’ customer’s are hot)

He’s the drummer for the Bat Boys

And, although you might not guess it, he actually manages the band most of the time

Like he makes sure they have a place to play when they feel like it

Because a lot of the bars owe him favors (we won’t say why)

Rita’s is, of course, his favorite location

He’s befriended the owner

Or intimidated

The man is nearly 7 ft tall of solid muscle with a reputation round the block

He drives an old, run down truck

It has issues – with the exhaust, the muffler, sometimes the oil leaks, and he’s had to have the cylinders re-aligned multiple times

But he loves it

It’s one of the ‘tests’ he puts his dates through – how much do you love (or tolerate) the truck

The noisy, stinky bucket of bolts

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

RHYSAND:

Rhysand is in school for business and law

His father is the CEO of the ‘only’ law firm in town (the others disappeared without any real explanation)

He is passing all of his classes with flying colors, miraculously, though the way he carries himself you’d never know he’d be the type

Like, he radiates spoiled rich kid who’s dad is paying his way through college

Which isn’t true

Feyre hates it

She just can’t understand how 

How his grades are so good, how his ego is so high

To make it worse, he’s her tutor

Much to his delight

He’s a junior, so he qualifies as a tutor if he keeps a certain grade

(He probably only keeps the ‘A’ for Feyre, be real here)

He has a sort of monopoly over the tutoring program and makes a pretty penny off of it

It doesn’t hurt that most of his tutoring sessions could end in something MUCH more personal if he was in the mood

Everyone who hangs around him has become known as the ‘inner circle’

Often abbreviated to the ‘I-C’

Everyone knows who the ic are

Everyone

So, of course, they have enemies

And they have taken to referring to his friends as the ‘ick’

A play off of ‘ic’

A cheap, uncreative insult in Rhys’ opinion

His cousin, Mor, keeps a fair amount of people off of it though

He doesn’t want to know what she did to scare them off

Because of his charming, well presented nature, he has been able to climb his way to success

And he’s only a junior

He lands every scholarship, he has internships lined up, he’s gotten into several vacation plans

The guy is insane

He plays guitar for the band

But he can also sing

The guy can sing

Smooth, rich, almost throwback quality but still modern

Perfect for a bittersweet love story

Perfect for sweeping his lovers off their feet

So the rumors about his pillow talk

Gods

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

||| ~ mk mk loves, i'm finishing up Feyre, Elain, and Nesta's, and i have Mor, Gwyn, Amren, and Emerie written out. Then I'll slowly eat my way through Tampon, Lucien, Eris, and the other high lords [and then maybe i'll do some nsfw headcanons, and perhaps move on to some reader x character headcanons] ~ |||

anyways enjoyyyy <3

#booklr #acotar #booktok #acomaf #sarah j maas #acowar #fanfic #my thoughts #acosf #acowaf #headcanons #headcanon #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #mysterious boi #cassian #cassian acotar #rhysand #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #acotar fanfic #feyre #feyre archeron #i love this #im in love #its beautiful #this is so #oml #okay goodnight

[mogoce-nocoj]

München, 04.12.23

okay! now that I've actually managed to arrive home from Munich and had the day to calm down for a bit, I'm just gonna link xia's munich report here (because it includes most of the important bits) and add some of the stuff that I keep thinking about

Watching the Khäärijä OF videos during queueing was so funny because everyone was caught between feeling slightly embarrassed and really interested

I arrived later but apparently Kris and Jan (I think) walked through the wrong door and the queue had to show them where to go into the venue

the queue system worked perfectly and I can't thank all the people responsible for it enough for implementing it

I know people have been talking about how Nace has this energy when he's right in front of you and I get it now. I do. When he was close I had my own "oh." moment about him. like, wow.

Bojan was in such a good mood, joking around and telling stories and really looking like he was enjoying the concert and being close to the crowd

Bojan during plastika holding a pride flag “don't be plastic, be fantastic”

During queueing I jokingly suggested that I was gonna clap the rhythm to vem da greš which they did during the nordic tour but stopped doing afterwards; what I didn't consider was that I was so close to the stage that Bojan actually noticed me doing it and proceeded to give me the softest smile. I can't tell you what having his full attention does to a person because, phew. don't think I'll ever recover

When Bojan caught the bracelets people were admiring him for it and he very loftily said “so does anyone want to throw a baseball?” before being bombarded by other gifts. his face really changed from being suave to slight panic in only a few seconds, that was a really funny thing to experience (it wasn't a bad panicked face, no worries)

there were a bunch of Slovenian people in the crowd and Bojan really enjoyed bantering with them

I think someone said it already but I want to stress how funny it was that they only made it to Munich because the organiser booked their flight to Memmingen. like why would you do that. it did save them though

Okay, just a bit of bokris stuff (because they are always in my heart after all, even if they decide to bully me whenever I'm in the crowd)

yes kris didn't sing ngvot (that's my curse, apparently) but in contrast to wrocław there was an actual conversation going on where Kris told Bojan to sing it which was cute

Bojan caressed Kris's chest at some point and I'm so sad I didn't get that on video because it was really soft

I think after Vienna Bojan's convinced that “Zugabe” is a literal translation of “one more” because he kept repeating it so often lol

after the encore Bojan apparently took the wrong exit and had to bolt across the stage to the other door making everyone turn around in confusion

I know this report is very Bojan focused but he really just draws you in, in particular in the middle. like you just have to give him your attention and while I also enjoy being at the back, being at the front and having no choice but to be focused on him is also really an experience

(I can't thank xia enough for buying the jo sweater for me because for one second i forgot that I was in Germany and could only pay in cash and nearly had a breakdown thinking I couldn't get it. I'm living in that sweater now, btw.)

the crew were really trying to get us to leave after the show like repeating “what are you standing around here, the band is gone” and while I get it, it was very funny considering that we weren't actively waiting for them and just got caught up in conversation (and Bojan and Nace posting the Hojan shirt)

... this might've turned out longer than I expected, I think Turku will always be my favourite because it was my first Joker Out gig but this one is getting pretty pretty close. thanks to all the people I met and got to talk to and who made this gig such a wonderful experience ❤️

#joker out #joker out munich #München gig

[rockanroller]

Insights Into "good" vs. "bad" Animation Rates & Why Animators Might Agree to Work for "low pay"

with the Discord screenshot going around from Spindlehorse Writer and Production Supervisor Adam Neylan revealing some rates they offer, i thought i'd give some insights into the complex topic of animation rates and animators as someone who has done animation work and had many a conversation with peers & mentors about what i should/shouldn't agree to when it comes to pay and productions.

to start with a general statement:

most of what i'm about to say can apply to any and all jobs. animation is not the only industry with low-paying jobs ppl still agree to work, and "currently, 30 states and Washington, D.C., have minimum wages above the federal minimum wage of $7.25 per hour." that means 20 states still only pay $7.25/hour for minimum wage which is not livable, of course jobs in those states may offer more.

i do not say that to downplay or forgive poor wages, only to show animation isn't an isolated case, but it doesn't make it any less awful. and the tricky thing with animation/art is there are more factors to consider than a simple yes or no answer.

and, for your consideration, these are the wages listed by the Animation Guild, they are shown mostly by hourly and weekly rates, and range from $35-$57 per hour, and mainly apply to big studios. you can see wages from specific Big Studios on this page. including Bento Box whose wage minimums ranged from $22-$42 per hour depending on the job as of July 7th, 2023.

any opinions expressed in this post are my own or summarized from others i've spoken with, they're subject to change in the future as i learn more. the goal of this post is to be informative.

"why would an animator agree to a job paying low wages?"

needing the money no matter how poorly it pays and/or having a hard time finding work in the current state of the industry

plain old artistic passion (((they love the work or the project so much they want to be a part of it even if it means low pay)))

they want/need to build their portfolio or resume

they've been recommended to do it by a friend or mentor

they know the crew/studio provide a good work environment despite their low pay

they feel they can get the job done fast enough for it to be worth the pay

they have something else supporting them financially (another job, their family/spouse/partner, etc.) so they can afford to work a side gig for pocket change or just for fun

being a friend of the creator OR anyone on the production, leading to a desire to help out even if it means they wont be paid much

they live in an area of the US or another country that has a lower cost of living (((i.e. if your rent is $3000/mo VS. if your rent is $1000/mo)))

they agreed with the job/rate the employer/client initially offered them, but the employer/client changes or adds onto the job once production starts (((sometimes this can be a situation known as "job creep" where you agree to do one job, but later they ask you to take on responsibilities or "small tasks" from other jobs while only paying you for the one job.)))

on that last bullet you may be thinking... "well they should just quit then, why wouldn't they?" here's some reasons why, some are the same as above:

needing the money/not being able to find another job so badly they find a way to do whatever is asked of them

same plain old artistic passion mentioned above (((they want to see it through/complete the task/complete the vision even if it means they might experience stress or burnout)))

they have something else supporting them financially so doing more/extra work isn't a huge hinderance

they have friends on the production they may not want to "abandon" or "let down" OR, alternatively, having friends on the production makes the work easier to stomach

despite the extra work/low pay the work environment is enjoyable for one reason or another (community, support, fun, etc.)

fearing it could ruin their reputation as a worker / burn bridges with their connections on the production / limit their ability to get another job with the same studio or other studios later on

fearing saying "no" might breach their contract or agreed terms

not being experienced or confident enough to stand up for themselves in the workplace/not knowing their rights (this isn't uncommon, many people do not know the extent of their rights as a worker.)

"what makes an animation wage good or bad?"

this gets a bit trickier bc it is a complex subject that can change based on the project and your personal skills/needs as a worker.

"paid per second"

the "per second" wage is one that's used bc it's very easy for the client to plan their budget with. but it's been debated back-and-forth among workers whether or not it's "fair," especially if the client isn't open to discussion or willing to pay extra for exceptions.

some workers, even though they will agree to work for it, feel this method shouldn't be used bc there are factors it doesn't take into account, while other workers are fine with it.

the limitations of the "per second wage" are:

not every animator works at the same speed

if you're paid $35/second and 1 second takes you an hour to animate then you made $35/hour, but if 1 second takes you 3 hours you made only $11.66/hour, and so on. one might argue an animator simply needs to "improve" in order to make the same "worth" as their peers who work faster--but everyone works differently, and if an animator who works slower is good enough/a more thorough worker, they can still be preferred over a faster one.

it doesn't take revisions/retakes into account*

*this limitation can be remedied if the employer/client includes revision/retake rates or amounts, or is open to discussing extra pay for excessive revisions/retakes. revisions/retakes occur when someone in the pipeline (the lead, the supervisor, etc.) discerns that something was missed or needs to be improved / fixed in an animation. generally one or two small revisions (missing a line, there's a small area that didn't get colored, etc.) are not a big deal and can be fixed quickly. but if there are a multitude of revisions (multiple missing lines/color) or huge revisions (having to re-do an animation completely) that can create a bigger workload for the worker or whichever co-worker their work gets passed to. and you might think "well the error was the worker's fault therefore they shouldn't be paid to fix it" but it's a part of the job. no animator is perfect, and unless you're senior veteran Disney level you're going to get a few notes back. (even the veterans aren't perfect and get notes as well.) not to mention leads might disagree on what is or isn't a necessary fix or adjustment to make on an animation.

it usually is a flat rate that doesn't take complexity into account*

*this limitation can be remedied if the employer/client includes higher rates for more complex shots or is open to discussing a higher per-second rate for more complex shots or additional pay if the job becomes more work than previously thought but, for example, if everyone is being paid a flat $35/second rate no matter what and you get a shot where all you have to animate is a character taking a sip from a glass, but your co-worker has to animate a shot of a character doing crazy parkour, one is going to take longer than the other while getting the same amount of pay. if you complete yours in 2 hours you made $17.50/hour, if your co-worker completes theirs in 5 hours they only made $7.00/hour for a more complex shot.

so overall the "per second issue" has limitations but they can mostly be remedied if a client is open to discussing extra pay/higher rates when the workload exceeds the original agreement.

hourly rates are generally a more "financially secure" option for workers.

however hourly rates can get more expensive and are harder to plan a budget for, since everyone works at different speeds, thus why many clients, especially for productions with limited budgets such as indie, go for the "per second" rate.

job scope

this is where things get difficult to judge bc they vary depending on the production as well as your needs/availability/skills as a worker.

for the sake of example lets compare something that came up in discussion over the screenshot linked at the top of this post: Monkey Wrench's rate VS. Spindlehorse's rate.

breaking down the workload

generally speaking, most shots are only a few seconds. they tend to average around 2-8 seconds, but can be as long as 10+ seconds.

the last rate offered for Monkey Wrench's 3rd episode was $20.38/second, at that rate you could make anywhere from $40.76-$163.04 or $208.30+ per shot of completed roughs or completed clean-up.

at Spindlehorse's rate they chose for Hazbin Hotel's finale episode with A24 & Bento Box of $35/second you could make anywhere from $70.00-$280 or $350 per shot of completed roughs or completed clean-up.

is SH's more than MW in this case? yes. however, there are other factors to consider:

what was the framerate? (12 fps VS. 24 fps, etc.) (((how many frames get displayed per second)))

what were they animated on? (1s, 2s, 3s, 4s, etc.) (((this means how often you make a new drawing, 3s = a new drawing every 3 frames, 1s = a drawing on every frame. at 24 fps that's 24 frames in a second, on 3s that would be 8 drawings on 1s that would be 24 drawings.)))

how detailed are the characters/show style?

how complex is the movement?

how long did you have to complete the animation? (((if you have 1 week to complete an animation you will need to work more hours each day to complete it VS. if you had 2-3 weeks to complete the same one you could work less hours each day, maybe even take one off if you're working efficiently enough.)))

were you asked to take on a bigger workload than you signed on for? and did they offer to pay you the same or more for it?

how many revisions are included in your rate? what's the pay for additional revisions that aren't included in the rate?

was the workplace environment good or bad?

in other words, speaking hypothetically, if you have to animate several frames of detailed characters doing complex movements and you're asked to do more work than you agreed to in a bad work environment, making that $70-$350+ per shot is gonna suck and might cause you stress or even physical/mental harm from burnout that could hinder your ability to continue working...

...to the point that even if you still had to animate several frames of detailed characters doing complex movements, you may prefer to work the job that pays $40.76-$208.30+ per shot if, at the very least, it's a better workplace environment. although you may still choose to do work for the higher-paying job if you really need the money.

we can't make a super clear call on if SH or MW's wages are fair with all of the above factors bc they're either difficult or impossible to know unless we have worked, or hear from people who did work, on the productions themselves. however we *do* know that Adam Neylan claimed the animation for HH's finale episode would be "less intensive" in the screenshot linked at the top of this post, and at least one person who agreed to the offer received shots that were on 1s which *is* more intensive. (link to one other instance of this claim.)

budget / studio size

this topic also gets complicated as an employer/client doesn't typically tell you the exact budget they're working with and where all the money is going.

though they do tend to inform their workers with something like "we're working with a small/limited budget" or "we have plenty of budget" and all you can do is trust that they're being honest. however, indie productions like Lackadaisy and Monkey Wrench have been transparent about where their budget goes. (Lackadaisy budget, Monkey Wrench budget.) So far to my knowledge Spindlehorse has not. (as of making this post on 1/8/2024)

now first and foremost: yes, everyone deserves fair pay regardless of how big or small a client/studio is or how large or limited their budget is.

that being said, sometimes workers are willing to grant exceptions to smaller clients with smaller budgets, especially if they're passionate about the project, they have faith in their employer/client, or are having a hard time finding work and really need the money even if it's not a lot.

the reason many people are upset with the SH screenshot is that, while SH says they offer $60/second normally on Helluva Boss (which while on the better end of per-second rates is still not ideal), they can only offer $35/second, despite the fact they are doing work for A24 / Bento Box, with Bento Box usually offering minimum wages of $22-$42 PER HOUR depending on the job (page 4).

whereas for a much smaller indie project like Monkey Wrench, workers might be more forgiving when most of the money comes straight out of Zeurel's own pocket, as well as the fact that Zeurel does a lot of the animation himself.

and while SH pays much more per second for their indie show compared to Monkey Wrench, SH may have much more money coming in from views & merch sales, they also have much more heavily detailed characters. (in other words an animator might be willing to agree to less pay per second if the characters aren't very detailed or aren't doing a lot of complex movement.) that doesn't mean it's "good" that MW can only afford to pay $20/second, but some workers may be more forgiving given the circumstances.

what if some people are saying they had a good time working on a project while others are saying they didn't?

in relation to everything i've already stated above, the personal experience one has working on a production is equally varied.

generally speaking there are few projects who come out with a fully satisfied crew. there will almost always be at least one worker who had a bad time.

when considering if someone's bad experience is a sign of a bigger issue on a production you have to use your best discretion and accept you may not be able to make a clear call for sure until more information comes out.

sometimes people are telling the full truth of their personal experience, and the workplace *is* bad. other times they're telling the full truth of their personal experience but the factors that caused their bad experience were specific to them/their life, and the place they worked *might* be good for a majority of people.

on the flip side...

use caution when you see the "well *I* had a good time" or "well they were nice to *me*" defense

while numbers can be good (such as if more people are saying good things than bad things) one still has to be wary of confirmation bias as well as why someone might not speak up about a bad experience.

for confirmation bias; someone simply declaring that they had a good time on a production/with a creator insinuating that therefore others couldn't have had a bad time is, simply put, naïve. not to mention disrespectful and ignorant.

example: a group of people can go to the same party where one has a bad time and the rest have a good time. that doesn't mean the party was undeniably good. the party was a different experience for all of them. the host can potentially do something different at the next party to make it better for the one who had a bad time, or that person may decide not go to those parties anymore. if multiple people had a good experience at the party, then sure it's more likely it was "good" by majority, and more people should go--however there could still be an unseen problem such as "the host frequently attempts to get unwilling people drunk," and only a small handful of people have experienced or witnessed it. that's a problem that needs to be fixed, but the majority of party-goers might object to this because they "can't believe it's true, I had such a good time, the host is so nice, & he's never done anything like that to me." yet something bad still happened to a small handful of people and it needs to stop happening.

so, why would someone not speak up if they *did* have a bad experience? here's a few reasons:

they want to move on to other things in their life

they want to avoid getting involved in drama or making a stir even if they had a bad time

they could be afraid speaking up will make it look like they are "taking a side" on something that will cause friction and/or rejection from their peers or friends they don't want to lose

they could be afraid it'll affect their reputation as a worker, or burn bridges with their connections

they could be afraid of the response they'll get from the public (such as being blamed, ignored, invalidated, harassed, etc.)

they signed an NDA and/or are afraid of breaching a contract

should someone accept a low-paying job just for the "good opportunity" alone?

that is completely up to an individual's choice and varies greatly.

personally, i don't believe you should ever *tell* someone to go for something beyond the shadow of a doubt *just* for the opportunity alone, not unless you've taken into consideration the facts of the opportunity *and* the facts of an individual's availability/skills/life situation as well.

sure, "work at Disney" sounds like it's a good opportunity that anyone should take no matter what.

but, if Disney's paying pennies for the opportunity, and an individual isn't ready, doesn't have support, doesn't feel confident about the job or their ability to commit to it, then it isn't a good opportunity for them. you could uproot your entire life for a "good opportunity" only to discover you weren't cut out for it or it didn't lead anywhere. at the end of the day jumping for an opportunity is always a gamble even if it's a gamble that is tilted in your favor.

of course, i also believe sometimes you have to take a risk, sometimes mistakes happen, and you can still learn a lot from "failed opportunities." if it doesn't work out it isn't the end of the world bc you learned more about yourself/the job in the process and you can still pick your life back up. i just don't believe in making uninformed gambles just for the sake of a vague "opportunity," i believe you should consider all the available information before taking a leap.

whether or not something is a "good opportunity" depends on if it's worth it to you and/or you feel confident enough in your availability and skills to do the job even if it isn't going to pay much.

closing remarks

i think that's about all i can say on it, i know it was a lot of information (it's hard to simplify) so thank you truly if you read it all and i hope it was helpful and informative.

the topic of fair pay in animation is an on-going conversation with a lot of opinions and a lot of factors to consider, especially with the rise of interest in indie animation. everyone, including myself, should stay open to this conversation and avoid drawing hard lines in the sand of what is or isn't "fair" unless there is an obvious problem.

personally, due to the claims we've seen over time, i do feel there may be a problem at SH that needs to be reviewed in order for them to be a healthier and ultimately more productive/efficient studio.

i also think it'd be great if indie productions in general could pay more, but the reality is it just isn't there yet, and some animators are willing to deal with it for the sake of their passion or bc they really need the work no matter what.

if you have any questions or confusion about anything i talked about in this post, feel free to shoot me an ask.

ty again for reading.

#industry talk #spindlehorse critical #vivziepop critical #animation industry #indie animation #monkey wrench mention

[ravenadottir]

drag race: boys edition

we had gender bent edits, we had paralell universes, and i'm not sure if someone has done this, but in case it hasn't, here it is. did i need to do this? yes, yes i did. enjoy!

[listen, i saw a video from runner eye and if i can't stop thinking about it, you have to be the ones to be punished by it, i don't make the rules.]

roberta mckenzie. a comedy queen from glasgow. she loves the audience, mostly working up the patreons in hopes to find a gold mine of weird info dump, enough to make the rest of the bar laugh. is the makeup rough? yes, very much so. is the material roast winning? not exactly... but she's new to the game and is trying her best. plus, her outfits pay homage to jamaican patterns every chance she has and most of us enchanted by the charisma and bad puns.

rhonda. one-name-only for a one-personality-only and that is... snake! she's the one pretending to be zen and "i don't do drama" but has the most snake rattle sound effects during her confessionals. she also tries to steal henrietta hotts from luna kohko, and the audience saw it from A MILE AWAY. unsuccessfully of course... HAVE YOU SEEN LUNA? she's the trade of the season.

kassandra. she dj's on the weekends all mounted in silver gowns and small boobie bibs (as she calls them despite being annoyed other people refer to them as that). kassandra has issues with everyone that ISN'T doing recreational drugs at her gigs and call them "stiffs" for it. however, despite looking and sounding harsh... well, that's about it. there's a reason she and luna get along so well!

glitter renell. "a traditional drag queen" according to herself, and to new queens it only means "my uncle in a wig with a rough and patchy makeup work and plastic-ey wigs". the only queen not wearing "fantasy" by britney but who's noticing?? her special number involves ripping off the sleeves of her outfits and revealing MASSIVE biceps, but often times they pop off on their own. got the magic mike title of the season.

ingrid. she's a "sporty type of queen", has multiple tricks with golf clubs, and despite having a couple of head hitting tricks in her history, she tries her best. it sometimes can serve her as a pole to drop to the ground in a split and honestly? work. ingrid is considered one of the hottest and cutest since her shyness brings a different glow to her eyes, which are LOST in pink glitter and magical rainbow shaped makeup. she dares and we love it, leave her alone.

luna kohko. this is a SEASONED queen, alright? makeup on point, fashion in place, attitude to donate, and walking the runway like she built that shit. however, when it comes to friendships in the werk room... don't speak, don't come near, don't come around... in fact, don't come at all. luna doesn't waste time with phony queens and prefers things exactly the opposite of her: straight. she's a lesbian, which means she loves dating drag queens, and since entering the show she has a LIVE AND THRIVE romance with the innocent henrietta hotts. "if that crusty fucking hippie so much as breathes the same air as henrietta again, we're gonna have a fucking problem, yeah? i've seen her lurking the machines trying to strike up a conversation about climbing. there's only one building henrietta is gonna climb and it's not a limp one."

noelle waves. "we have a wall of fabric in that werk room and you continue to come out in swim suits. STOP - RELYING - ON - THAT - BODY". she's a bit reserved most of the time, but if the "girls are fighting", she's the first to step up and play MOTHER. the public likes her, but she's not exactly winning challenges. "safe" defines noelle better than "creative" or "winner", but she tries and helps everyone during challenges.

henrietta hotts. THIS GIRL HAS IT, OK? her signature look is the red lipstick and the blonde wig, and with those beautiful freckles, her persona is very much the girl next door. it makes the judges go "i feel like i haven't met henrietta yet, and i know there's someone in there that needs to... ROAR. also, baby... you need more makeup." is she the smartest? no. is she the most problem-solving? no. is she the most graceful? YOU BET HER ASS COVERED IN GLITTER SHE FUCKING IS.

graham cracker. ANOTHER UNCLE IN A WIG. barely knows how to walk in heels and is giving kim chi vibes. however, because of her leadership skills (which are not comparable to noelle's) she does manage to maintain her position for a while since most of the girls are lowkey scared of her. she's unpredictable and most of the contestants suspect she's straight.

carlota miranda. THIS IS THE MOST EXTROVERTED QUEEN ON THE RUNWAY, however, the boom mic needs to enter her throat to pick up what she's saying due to her bashfulness. not a fighter type but if someone comes for her???? she'll definitely... apologize for it. "fuck, don't fight" is her motto, followed by a timid little giggle since she tries not to curse. her style is "executive realness" but covered in crystals and diamonds. "it's either a mugler or nothing, babes. i don't have time to look like cel. sanders..."

felicia butterfly. annoying as alyssa edwards and untalented as... well, [REDACTED WINNER OF SEASON 4]. she's a one trick poney and the trick is... well, the public and the production are still trying to find it but in the mean time she becomes the bud of the joke. it's kind of entertaining watching her trying to understand anything in the werk room. it gets old but... she leaves pretty soon, so no problem there.

doge style. always wearing dogs' styles on her wigs, it's her signature. the poodle poof is AMAZING. she also becomes friends with everybody, particularly with the nervous ones, like carlota and henrietta since doge's hugs are infallible to relax the girls in situations of stress. she sometimes lets a facial hair look take over if the look calls for it, while the others are afraid of embracing it. "i'm not a woman impersonator, i'm just creative, get over it!" she has a HUGE CRUSH ON ELLA FAME, and it's reciprocated. rumour has it they fucked on the first week and are already planning a getaway.

ella fame. the most exquisite wigs in the werk room NO QUESTIONS ASKED. has beef with gigi goode for the title of best hair styles, but since her house is older and richer, she thinks she has a better chance to win this one pool on twitter. overall, ella has a walk to kill for, one that graham cracker has been trying to learn since day one. "i got it from naomi... you either know it... or you dont." she tells and retells the time she walked the same runway as naomi, even though everyone keeps reminding her that it happened as elijah, not as ella, but as she says in the confessional: "these bitches are so fucking jealous they're causing me intern wrinkles.".

jacoba zabinski. she's not very creative, doesn't have an interesting name, doesn't know how to walk differently than a constipated bear and doesn't know how to wear a wig. to be fair, she's only in the show to get clout for her male persona, jakub. bodybuilding is not paying off since his scandals in multiple gyms for his part time job as an instructor. so instagram shit tea and self taner brands have been the bread winning besides being the biggest bitch in the room. she enters the porkchop hall of fame. OBVIOUSLY.

#litg #love island the game #litg s2 #litg season 2 #litg arjun #litg bobby #litg carl #litg elijah #litg felix #litg gary #litg graham #litg henrik #litg ibrahim #litg jakub #litg kassam #litg lucas #litg noah #litg rocco #this has been on my mind for exactly an hour

[anjaelle]

White Light | Part II

Characters: Ghost!ATJ + Black Female!Reader Rating: T+ (For language. Again...pretty tame so far) Word Count: 2.8K Summary: You've learned three very important things: 1) Ghosts are apparently real. 2) They can touch you if they're determined enough. 3) They will live with you for months and not pay rent, but reap all the benefits. A/N: Thanks for everyone that read part one. It would be super encouraging if people who read my story actually reblogged/commented on it, as it's hard to gauge what I could improve on or add more of without feedback.

[PART I] | [PART III] | [Masterlist]

--

The year was 2002.

He'd just moved to the city from England, eager to make his mark in the US with his band, Crimson Zombie. It was a shit name, admittedly--they had a plan to work on it. They'd heard from friends of friends that there was a bubbling underground music scene, and a couple of pretty damn good venues with well-known patrons. They were a group of four incredibly over-eager Uni dropouts who jumped first and asked questions later. The housing market wasn't too bad, considering the fact that everyone was trying to get the hell out of the downtown area after 2001. They had to couch surf for a couple of weeks before finding a space they could all live in on a budget. It wasn't much, but it was something.

He wasn't the lead of the band, a fact he was perfectly content with. He preferred standing in the back with his bass guitar, getting lost in the noise of the crowd and the melody without the pressure of looking perfect while he did it. That responsibility was left to his best mate Gavin, who had the looks, charisma, and talent as the frontman to make the band memorable in a sea of guitar playing white guys.

It took six months for them to gain a small following. And as they transitioned into the new year, they began getting a ton of attention they hadn't expected. Maybe it was the novelty of their Britishness. Maybe they were finding their sound. By the winter of 2003, they were well on their way to signing with an indie label and finally releasing a record.

That's when he met Talia.

Aaron was genuinely surprised when she initially approached him at a gig, since Gavin was usually the one women flocked to, the other guys were way more outgoing, and Aaron was more reserved. She was fresh out of college and working at a coffee shop, but making art on the side. The band tapped her to design their EP covers and merch, and then gave her a cut of the profits. Aaron and Talia grew closer after a few late nights of brainstorming and no-strings-attached fucking. He was beginning to catch feelings, and began to notice the growing animosity Gavin had towards their relationship.

"You don't fall for the groupies," he once said over a bottle of Jameson, "You're fucking mad if you think you'll survive touring. She'll cheat on you the minute your back is turned."

Aaron defended her which led to a shouting match. Gavin didn't speak to him for over a week, but he didn't care. He just knew that he loved her.

It was an unseasonably warm night in March when he plucked up the courage to finally ask Talia to be his girlfriend. They'd just finished an opening set at a sold out show, and were celebrating in their apartment with booze and some assorted party favors the other band mates called in. Ordinarily, Aaron would be right alongside them. But that night, he'd been nervously chain smoking out the living room window as he waited for her to come to the party after her shift at the shop.

He remembered Gavin giving him the cold shoulder all night, and snorting every last bag of coke off of their coffee table well into the evening. He remembered their band mates telling him to slow down before he OD'd. Aaron could hear them arguing from the kitchen, but he kept his eyes trained on Talia's silhouette crossing the street to their apartment building. The arguing moved into the living room. Aaron was about to call down to her from the window. There was a shout, a shove, immense pain in his head.

And then he died.

-x-

"JESUS FUCK!" You screamed, jumping out of bed and rushing to the door. With shaking hands, you managed to pull your front door open and scream out into the hallway, "SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!"

Then you ran out, clad only in your pajamas and a pair of fuzzy socks.

He sat frozen on the bed, completely unsure of what to do or say to right the situation. From your perspective, a random man just showed up in your apartment and started touching your hair. Admittedly, he was being creepy. He couldn't blame you for being afraid. But he didn't know how to tell you that you were about to look absolutely insane for your accusation. When he came back to his senses, he found himself cradling the hand that touched you. Like it was sacred. It might as well have been.

In your haste to escape the danger of a dead guy, you left your front door wide open. For a moment he contemplated closing it--if he had the strength to anyway. But then he decided that it'd be better to just leave it alone in case you returned.

And you did! Eventually. It took several minutes for you to come back with your neighbors and the building's security guard in tow. He felt immediate guilt when confusion crossed everyone's face, as they peeked around the corner and saw no one there. But you stared right at him with fear etched onto your features. You parted your lips to speak, but nothing came out but a slow shuddering breath.

"They can't see me," he admitted, holding up his hands in an attempt at reassurance, "They can't hear me. It's just you...for some reason."

"No, no, no this can't be fucking happening." He heard you mutter to yourself, holding your head in your hands and turning your back to him. Your neighbors flurried around you to ask you questions about whether you wanted to file a report, and what the perp looked like. Several minutes of babbling passed, and you disappeared into the hallway again, closing the door tightly behind you without passing another glance his way.

It was odd. For the most part he couldn't really recognize anyone, and he was hit with the realization that everyone he knew from the building probably moved away. The feeling of the world moving on without him was still something he had trouble accepting.

Despite the initial shock of being seen, Aaron decided to play it cool. He felt around for his one loose cig that never seemed to disappear, no matter how many times he smoked it. He couldn't taste or smell a goddamn thing, but the fact that he died with one last cigarette in his pocket gave him an ounce of hollow comfort.

"Okay," he sighed to himself, propping his chin in his hand and tucking his cigarette behind his ear, "So...assuming she doesn't immediately move out, I need to figure out a way to explain this to her."

He snorted. He could barely explain this phenomenon to himself, let alone a living woman he's been mildly enamored with for months. He became hyper aware of the fact that the tingling in his hand disappeared after you left, and he wasn't sure if he missed you because of it. Or maybe he just missed you because he could finally talk to you and had so many questions to ask.

In fact, this was the first time he'd spoken to anyone. He instinctively grabbed the phantom cigarette and lit it with the phantom lighter, choosing to enjoy the illusion of relief it brought him.

Would you smell it? You smoked, too, but only rarely. And never cigs. Could you smell his smoke this whole time?

If you could, he decided he was a massive dick.

It was approaching dawn when you returned, and his heart leapt into his throat. Like he was an eager dog awaiting his owner.

Disgusting.

He had to remind himself that he knew you, but you knew nothing about him. Instead, he remained silent, choosing to stand close to the living room window far across the room. Your eyes met, and he noticed that you didn't look so afraid anymore. Instead, he noticed the exhaustion. He had to fight the impulse to voice his concern.

"You don't look so good," he plainly said, scratching the back of his head, anxiously.

You licked your lips and squinted at him, shutting the door behind you.

"You and I need to talk."

You explained to him that you spent hours speaking to your grandmother to make sense of things. You weren't a stranger to the supernatural--your family was full of spiritually sensitive people. But you were convinced that it skipped you. That you wouldn't ever have to deal with the craziness that seemed to follow every woman in your family. Yet here you were, sitting at your dining room table across from a guy who died in your apartment. Despite the slightly nervous nature of his demeanor, you were surprised at the level of calm you were both exuding.

He tucked his cigarette between his teeth and you clocked how unnaturally bright it was, and how slow it burned. You could faintly smell it. But it smelled like someone was smoking in a room down the hall, not right across from you.

You took a deep breath and he licked his lips.

"Ok...what do you wanna know?" He asked, resting his chin on the table.

You didn't expect him to seem so real. So human.

"Do you know you're dead?" You asked. It was a dumb ass question, but he smiled patiently at you and shrugged.

"Yeah. I kinda figured that when I couldn't leave out of the front door anymore. For like a few years."

You swallowed hard at the intensity of his eyes on you and looked down at your hands.

"Have you been watching me this whole time?"

There was a pregnant pause and he hummed to himself.

"I didn't...mean to," he admitted, "But, as you can see, there's not much room in here to avoid you."

"Avoid me?"

He shook his head, "I wasn't trying to get in your way. I was just...here. Can't really be helped, you know? What was I supposed to do?"

You considered this for a moment, then thought back on the conversation that you had with your grandmother a few hours before.

"Why are you still here? Why didn't you move on to the other side?"

He shrugged again, choosing to ruffle his curls in thought. "Fuck if I know. I might be dead but I don't know anything about death and spirits and shit. I was just...a guy. I had a band. I hate being stuck here--or, I used to anyway," his eyes flickered to you for a moment before focusing on the table again, "I just thought I was being punished or something."

The entire time you spoke to him, you had your cell phone on the table recording the conversation. You hoped that it was catching his voice as well as yours, but it was an absolute shot in the dark.

"Punished for what?" You gently pushed.

"Beats me. I was pretty boring when I was alive." His eyes glanced up at you again, but he didn't look away. Instead a slow smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and you felt your face warm up.

"What?"

"Nothing," he chuckled, "It's just nice to have someone to talk to."

You didn't even think about that: How lonely the last few decades must have been before you moved in. How much he missed before he even hit 30. How angry he must have been about his situation.

You sighed deeply, "Do you know what year it is?"

"2022." He stated, plainly. You were surprised.

"How do you know?"

He motioned to the window, referencing a billboard propped on the roof of a building across the street. At the moment, it had a fading image of a thin, blonde woman modeling a pair of very expensive pink stilettos, with a bottle of perfume propped on the heel.

"The time and date are at the bottom," he explained, "I think that's the only thing that's been stopping me from going mad. That, and being able to see life happen outside on the street. That's about it."

You sat in that for a moment, allowing you both to indulge in the comfort of new company and much needed silence. You kept noticing him stealing glances at you, like he was studying your face. You briefly wondered how often he did that before you noticed him.

"Why were you touching me? HOW were you touching me?" You suddenly questioned. He blinked rapidly like he was being pulled out of his own deep thoughts, and you could swear that you saw a blush creep along his cheeks. He cleared his throat.

"It--I...didn't, like--I wasn't really TRYING to touch you. Like, I-I thought...I don't know what the fuck I thought, really."

You blinked at him, but couldn't help the chiding grin that formed on your face by how flustered you seemed to make him, "You know I find that hard to believe, right?"

He blushed a deeper red and rubbed the back of his head again, "I've never been able to do that before. Bloody fuckin' hell, I'm sorry. I promise I wasn't...I'm not a creep. I swear I'm not. I just--fuck me."

You quirked a brow at him, but remained silent as his wide blue eyes seemed to exude a mild panic. He deserved it, since he apparently watched you for months without you knowing. Though you understood that some of it couldn't really be helped, you still wanted to make him squirm a bit.

You should've been madder. Maybe. But taking into account how sweet and anxious he was made you a little more lenient.

It took a moment for him to catch on to the fact that you weren't that angry, and he squinted at you, which made you giggle.

"Are you fucking with me?" He asked with a slight sigh of relief.

You scrunched up your nose at him.

"A smidge. But you and I both know that you deserve it."

As the conversation progressed, the sun began to peek through your window, letting you know that you'd been speaking for hours. Of course, you were exhausted. He obviously didn't need sleep. But concern crossed his features as you rubbed your tired eyes.

"You should get some rest," he said, propping his chin in his hand to watch you carefully, "You've had a long day."

Though you shook your head, you yawned, earning a laugh from Aaron.

"I think you're in denial," he said, standing from the dining room table, "C'mon. Get to bed. I'll be here when you wake up, obviously." He crossed his arms over his chest, and you were suddenly aware of how muscular he was. Or maybe your sleep deprived mind was playing tricks on you. Either way, you blinked your tired eyes slowly at him and pursed your lips.

"Fine, you win, I'll take my ass to bed."

As you dragged your feet across your living room, and collapsed face first into your pillow, a thought occurred to you which had you prop yourself up on your elbows to speak to him.

"I just realized that I asked you 1000 questions, but I never really gave you the chance to ask me anything." You yawned again and rested your head on your folded arms, "You get one question from me before I pass out for good."

At first, you thought he'd reject the offer. He seemed reluctant to ask of anything from you. But then he shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the ceiling for a moment, thinking of what to say.

"Can you look up something for me on your cell phone?"

He sat beside you on the bed--an eerie experience, considering you couldn't really FEEL him there, though he looked just as real as a normal, living person. As Aaron peeked over your shoulder at your phone screen, his eyes widened in wonder.

"Well shit, that's--wow," he ran his fingers through his hair, "So you just touch the screen part? Like, there's no buttons? At all?"

"Not really."

He whistled, "This is like some Space Odyssey shit."

You were charmed by his enthusiasm and made a note of his nerdiness for a later date.

You typed the name out in google.

As the results showed up, you watched from the corner of your eye as Aaron's jaw worked. A few pictures popped up of the man he knew on stage singing to a massive crowd in Leeds, on a red carpet beside a beautiful, pregnant dark haired woman with sleeve tattoos, and a portrait of him from when he was a teenager.

Gavin Kensington Roth was an English singer-songwriter, producer, and musician who was the lead singer of the band MARCOS.

Born: May 8, 1980 Died: December 31, 2018 Children: Daisy Kensington Roth, Lola Kensington Roth, Brody Kensington Roth Spouse: Natalia "Talia" Jade Kensington Roth (2004-2018)

Before you could finish reading the results, Aaron shot up from the bed, and disappeared into the void.

#jaelle writes #aaron taylor johnson #atj x black!reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson x black!reader

[songsformonkeys]

Saying I love you with a letter (Ezra x reader)

Month: May

Word count: ~900

Warnings: ANGST, mcd

Notes: You receive a letter from Ezra.

I don't know exactly what happened here. I was in the grumpiest of moods and needed to write something before the end of June. And I did...technically. Oh well... everyone needs something to be the laziest and worst thing they've written. This is probably mine.

The rest of the Year of Creation stories

@yearofcreation2023

~~~~~~

My dearest,

It's been a month since we parted ways. And I ache with every inch and second of that distance, lover.

I dreamt of you last night and I woke up this morning to the phantom sensation of your arm around my waist. I reached for your hand but ended up grasping at nothing but air. I begged for sleep to take me right back to dreamland, but she is a cruel bed companion, I'm afraid, and once I found myself awake, it was impossible to go back.

I'd like to think it was the real you. In the dream, I mean. That you dreamt of me too last night and that somehow that was enough for us to find each other. Is that foolish of me? Distance makes the heart grow fond, and drives the brain a little crazy, I think.

The moon we're at is beautiful like you wouldn't believe, sweetheart. They call her The Green Moon. A very apt name. She looked like an emerald in the void when our ship approached. She's hiding the largest treasure of Aurelac in the system, and guarding it with a deadly fierceness.

There's this... dust of sorts, some kind of spores, I believe. It's everywhere. Captain showed us pictures on the way over of different gruesome ways it can mess up the human body. I'll spare you the details. But don't you worry, lover, I'm careful, and this trusty suit ain't giving up on me anytime soon.

There are ten of us here, practically living in each other's pockets. And let me tell you that after a long day of harvesting, I'd just about be willing to trade one of my limbs for a reprieve from the unpleasantly potent smell of myself and my crewmates.

The crew is about as interesting as a crew of money-hungry desperate bastards can get. Not sure I trust any of them further than I can throw them. Except for maybe the one that doesn't speak. I dropped my rationed bits bar on the floor the other day, and couldn't eat it out of fear of dust contamination. Now, I was prepared to accept my fate and I even laughed along with the others at my misfortune. This guy, however, he doesn't laugh – not sure he even can – just breaks his own bar in two and hands me half. Says a lot about a man's character, that. Still don't know his name.

The work itself is not so bad. By no means the hardest I've labored. Harvesting Aurelac requires more finesse than brute force, which is a nice change of pace.

Some of the others are unhappy with the cut we're getting of the profits. Mostly the new recruits. I think the pay is decent enough, compared to what gigs such as these usually pay. Or perhaps me and the others who've been around know there's little to gain from complaining. Voice your displeasure enough and you'll soon find yourself overlooked when the next job rolls around. No one claims it's fair but them's the rules, and no one's ever heard of anybody getting rich off of prospecting.

How are things back home? I'm itching to hear some gossip about the new neighbors. Did you end up taking them up on their offer to help with the roof? I do feel bad for leaving you to deal with it all on your own. But you know I couldn't turn this job down. Not with all things considered.

I promise I'll make it up to you a thousand times over as soon as I am back! Not too long now, and I'm counting down the days.

I love you, sweetheart. More than words could possibly convey. Can't wait to be back in your arms again.

Yours forever,

Ezra

~~~~~~

You smooth your fingers lovingly over the familiar handwriting and only just resist the urge to bring the letter up to your face. It wouldn't smell like him anyway. Written a month after he left. Exactly one month after he left. You knew because you too had been counting the days, starting from the morning when he hugged and kissed you goodbye at the hangar.

You smooth your fingers over the paper. It's worn like it's been folded and unfolded countless times along the same creases.

One month after he left.

Three weeks before he was supposed to come back.

Your hands begin to tremble.

The young girl across from you at the table speaks up, voice a bit guarded like she's expecting you to lash out at her. Like perhaps that had been the default reaction of someone before you.

”I found this among his stuff... after...” she tells you. ”He never got a chance to send it, but I found it and I thought you deserved to have it.”

And with that, the last glimmer of hope flickers and dies in your heart, replaced in an instant by the cold hard truth.

Ezra isn't coming home.

#year of creation 2023 #year of saying i love you #ezra x reader #prospect fanfiction #tw: mcd #tw: angst