#just thinking about it so i can give my supervisor an answer

[binch-i-might-be]

doing various Maths to figure out how much I would make with a higher hourly wage but it's so hard to get an accurate impression because I have no idea how much everyone else in that position makes. I know my favourite coworker is like 50 cents or something above minimum wage and he's doing what I could potentially maybe be doing. needless to say I would not be Doing That if that's what they offered me!

#you see i'm just considering like. i make 12€ an hour. for the lowest of the low work #my little sister who is 16 is doing the exact same work and she makes 13€. so. i'm not taking on more responsibility to be paid the same #as a teenager working a minijob #14 doesn't seem fair either tho? i wanna say i would want 15€ an hour at least but i do not want to say that out loud to anyone ever #because knowing my boss. my supervisors probably make like 13 bucks lol #all of this is very hypothetical tho because this hasn't even been brought up to the boss yet so whatever #just thinking about it so i can give my supervisor an answer #rayrambles

[hecateslore]

💌

supervisor!Simon

Monday you stood outside of Simon’s office, hesitant to knock on the door, no response from your best friends manager all weekend, you were starting to lose hope in your escape. Now you have to postpone your whole plan. You thought you had everything in the bag. Simon has something to do with this, you swear. He did some kind of Supervisor black magic. Knocking twice on his door you twist the knob and let yourself in. 

“Can I help you?” He said not looking up from his screen. “Possibly,” you respond. 

Simon looks up, squinting his eyes, “What'd Ya need?” Simon answered clearly annoyed by your presence, assuming this was your official “break-up” statement. “I don’t think I’ll be leaving anytime soon.” you bit your lip, trying to conceal any embarrassment that was evident on your face. “Lemme guess, Johnny's got you hooked?” Simon snickered. 

“Uh, no?”  you say watching Simon’s large frame get up from his chair. “No? Why the uncertainty? ” Simon's brow quirks up, “Personal stuff.” you mumble, “So you’re not quitting.” Simon assured himself. “That’s why I’m here right?” you sigh. 

“How’s Johnny, with all this?” Simon asks, waving around the freshly printed papers he got from the machine. “He’s good, a quick learner.” You gush about the blue eyed man, Simon was quick to notice, “I take it you enjoy his company?” Simon sat back down. “He’s a cool guy.” you hum, “A cool guy…hm.” Simon nods, rocking his chair, “Anything else?” he asks and you shake your head no. You walk out of his office, surprised he didn’t flip out and cause a scene. Walking back to your desk, Johnny sat across from Linda, who sits one desk behind you, he gives you a small wave, causing a small smile to form on your lips. 

An email notification pop on the corner of your screen, 

[email protected]

Subject: “cool guy”

Maybe you could give Cool Guy a highlighted section of the handbook. 

Best, 

S.R.

-

“Wanna grab lunch?”  you look up from your screen and there he was, standing at the side of your desk, “I got like 10 more minutes.” You say. “I can wait.” He offered, shoving his hands into his pockets. You think about it for a second, and wave Simon’s email out of your mind. 

“What’s an early lunch?” you shrug as you clock out for your break. You grab your bag and say a silent prayer hoping Simon won’t notice the ten minute difference. “What’s around here?” Johnny asks, opening the door for you, “I like to go to the supermarket.” You pause remembering the last time you were at the supermarket, “Or a coffee shop, something quick.” you reply. Johnny just nods, “I noticed your accent,” Johnny chuckles at your observation, “I noticed yours too.” He smirked (SCOTLAND FOREVAAAAAAAAAA). You suppress a screech, my god is he attractive. “Where’re you from?” you ask, “Scotland.” he answers, “ahh '' you nod.  

You both walked in silence, it was kind of awkward. Last time you had a companion on this little field trip, he was trying very hard to make conversation. “You were in the Military?” you try to break the silence, “Uh yeah.” he responds, “What was that like?” you prod. “It was the military.” he jokes, avoiding the question, “You ever kill anyone?” He looks at you with wide eyes, “Sorry I just had to ask.” You blurt out, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle up, “you’re fine.” he waves off your worry, “Do you think I did?”  he questioned, “maybe, who knows.” you say in a sing-song voice. 

-

You hit up the deli in the grocery store, ordering the usual. You and Jonny watch as the elder man assembles your sandwiches, “I like your shoes.” You look down at your feet, “thanks I just bought them at the thrift store.”  you beam. “You got a thing for feet?” You say and  the older man looks up from your sandwich with a face of disgust, only for Johnny to let out a loud cackle. 

You both settle outside, eating your lunches, chatting, goofing around. “Are you still leaving?” Johnny balls up the wax paper that held his sandwich together. “Doesn’t look like it these days.” you take a sip from your drink. “Why’s that?” Johnny wonders, “I haven’t heard anything since last week.” you say wearily. “Which is kind of a sign, but I just want to get out of here.” You sigh. 

Johnny frowns, “He’s that bad?” you bite your cheek, is he really that bad? Yes. No.  “Sometimes he’s nice.” you mention. “One time he bought me a Snapple from the vending machine cause I didn’t have cash.” Johnny lets out a snort, “Whatta Gentleman.” he rubs his thighs, “Maybe we should get going.” he nods you along. 

-

You both walk into the office giggling into each other, small laughs catching the attention from the people around you. Entering the back of the office, Simon stood outside his office door arms crossed and pissed off. “You have your fun?” He scowled. You and Johnny look at each other,

“Simon we were-” Johnny started but was quickly cut off, “You're both 15 minutes late, and you,” Simon looks directly at you, “ We’re having a discussion later. Johnny in my office, now.” 

-

You finished all your work and sat with your hands in your mouth, biting your nails from the anxiety. It felt like there was a dark cast around Simon’s door. You could hear his voice from the other side of the door, occasionally you would look around the room and see everyone  trying to make out the conversation. 

Eventually the door opened and Johnny walked out, heading straight for his desk. Not a glance your way. Simon stood in the doorway, making a come hither motion at you, that sort of turned you on but you ignore it. You swallow the lump in your throat and walk towards the looming office. 

-

“Sit.” He pointed at the chair, and that lump returned. Simon leaned his body on the desk before you. His eyes focused on you, you both sit in silence. That nervous pit still not leaving as Simon looks down at you, “You know why you’re here.” Simon scolded, “I didn’t mean-” Simon holds up a finger, you shut your mouth in a thin line.“I saw you take lunch 10 minutes earlier,” he adds.“ You had a 10 minute head start, and an extra 15 minutes.” Amber eyes looking into yours. 

“I gave you the responsibility to train him, to teach him and you blew it off.” Simon exclaimed, “Why do you disappoint me so?” His voice wavers, “tell me,” he walks around his desk and plops himself on the large chair. “ It was an accident. I forgot to look at the time.” Simon rolls his eyes, “Not true.” you furrow your brows, “Not true?” “No.” 

“You know why you disappoint me, say it.” he nags. “Simon I don’t know-” 

“Yes you do.” Those big brown eyes don’t let up, staring into yours intently, making the deepest parts of you shake. “Do you like him?”  Your brows are knitted together so badly you can feel the crease form in your skin. “Johnny?” You say and it almost sounds like you were accused. Simon nods. “I don’t know.” you let out a big exhale. “Is he nice?” you nod again. “Nicer than me?” 

“You’re not nice.” Simon cocks a brow, “You have your job.” he says and you scoff, “Because you don’t want to be reported to HR.” you snap. “Any person with sense knows you have to build a paper trail.” he snickers, “Opposed to a coffee stain, or an earbud, or god forbid they wear the wrong type of sweater.” you argue, “Maybe they forget the date one too many times, wear headphones when I clearly say no headphones. Or maybe they decide they want to take a 15 minute break, with their new work boyfriend!” Simon retaliated. “It’s not like that.” you sneer. 

“Oh I'm sure it isn't. you two have been flirting ever since he walked through that door.” His jaw set, anger radiating off of his body. 

“I can’t deal with this.” you say, letting out an exasperated sigh, “I’ve tried to. And  I’ve tried to ignore you and your tantrums,” you pause, “I quit.” you finish. 

Simon felt the anger slip off his body and be replaced with dread. Not able to say anything he watched as you walked out of his office finally, sniffling and wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. Simon sat on his chair, not moving, breathing still as he could. He could see you getting your bag from your chair and walking right past his door for the very last time. He could see Johnny’s face full of concern.  

Those big brown eyes, locked on the chair you sat in, wishing he could have approached it all differently.

#supervisor!simon #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley cod #ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #soap x reader #soap cod

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Construction Dog Co.

Each one of these dumb brutes belongs to me! They once had their own lives and careers, but I replaced all that with the blind obedience of a dog. My words dictate their reality, so they'll believe anything I say. That's why it seems perfectly normal for them to wait like this every morning. They'd kneel there all day if I let them, but they need to work eventually!

"Get off your knees, dogs! Hop to work! It's the only thing you're good for!" I yell it with venom, but I relish seeing my words soaking in into their minds. With just a simple command, I've convinced them all that they are animals, good only for hard work and manual labor.

The men rush to their feet, scrambling to pick up where they'd left off yesterday. I don't bother understanding the minor details of their day to day responsibilities. I have different boys programmed to manage all that crap for me. I really only bother watching them sweat their days away.

Being the supervisor can get a bit boring, especially after hearing, "Thank you, boss. I love you, boss," for like the seventh time in a day. It kind of loses it's meaning after awhile.

That's why I often use them for entertainment. Watch this!

"Hey, you two!" I call, pointing at two sweaty workers nearby, "You're in love with each other. Make out!"

Despite being hot and exhausted, the two men drop their tools and perk up. When they meet each other's eyes it's like they're seeing one another for the first time. They practically slam their bodies together in a race to each other's throat, and within seconds the two guys are lost in a world of dirt, saliva, and lust.

I do this with my men often, but who could blame me! I handpicked each one of them because they were strong and hot. If they're going to be hypnotized work slaves, then I need to enjoy how they look.

"You too aren't doing anything else but each other for the rest of the day," I command with a laugh, "Got it?"

"Yes, sir," their replies are moaned out between breaths.

A lot of my laborers were straight before they met me, but these two were creeps about it. I think I found them at the gym, hitting on girls between every set. I obviously enjoyed erasing their raunchy personalities. I find it even more enjoyable watching them grope and slobber over each other, knowing that those bodies would've never done that before I came along.

Those jagoffs are just the beginning of my day! I leave them after they've tumbled to the ground, humping each other like the dumb animals they are.

"You there!" I point to a different guy, quietly stacking blocks nearby, "Get over here and clean the floor as I walk. These Timberlands are brand new and I don't want mud on them."

"Yes, sir," the worker answers and rushes over, throwing himself to the ground before me.

I chuckle and study the poor loser in front of me. With just a few short words, I have him scrubbing a place for me to walk like I'm his king. I scoff in disbelief when I finally recognize who the guy was.

"Wait, are you that jerk from the bank?"

"Yes, sir," he admits quietly, keeping his head lowered towards his work.

"Well shit, you've come a long way! Can you believe that a week ago you were some fancy banker who tried to deny me a loan?" I give his head a little nudge with the toe of my shoe, "This is a much better place for you...uh... Robert...or was it Roger?"

"Reggie, sir," he quickly corrects me.

"Well, it doesn't matter anymore," I scowl at him, "Forget your name. You're just a construction dog, now. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who are you?"

"I'm...I'm just a construction dog." I can tell he believes it now, too. I'm probably the only one here that knows his real name, and I'll definitely forget it within a few days.

"Good boy," I pat him on the head, "Now, you're going to stay ahead of me and keep clearing the floor for me to walk."

Reggie mumbles "Yes, sir," and crawls forward to scrub away the dirt in my immediate vicinity. Continuing on my tour, the poor guy struggles to keep up on all-fours, but a good work animal must get used to that position.

By the end of the day, my entire pack of men is sweaty and exhausted. I usually make them all work the maximum shift with no breaks, so it makes sense for them to be tired. Still, they are programmed to come and kneel before me, waiting to be dismissed. They're all a bit antsy for a rest, but I like to test their patience.

"Alright, boys. You're dismissed for the night."

With a collective groan, they climb back to their feet, marching off to the bunk house.

The bunk house is where I keep them when they aren't working. It might seem tight but each guy has enough room to sleep; although, I make them share because I don't want to purchase anymore bunk spaces. I don't really like to spend any money on them. They have access to the porta-john out back, but otherwise they aren't allowed to go anywhere else. I also only gave them the clothes they work in, so they sleep in them too.

Needless to say, it stinks in there. Between the heat, body odor, unwashed clothes, and lack of showers, they've created quite the stench. I avoid their home as much as I can, but sometimes my curiosity gets the best of me. This is the first time I've seen it in weeks.

"Come on boys, don't look so glum!" I chastise them, "Smile! Act like you're happy to see me!"

I watch as a switch goes in each of their minds. Slowly, they snap out of their foggy eyed depression, and light up. The energy of the room transforms as reassuring smiles spread across each of their manly faces.

"That's better! You boys are a tight-knit team! You love each other!" I add, "You don't mind the back-breaking work, or the smell, or anything as long as you're together."

The men become even more at ease, relaxing into the arms of their coworkers. My heart is warmed a little, seeing them getting along with each other so well. They're acting like energetic little puppies now.

I'm ready to leave them for the night. It's time for me to return to my luxury condo down the street, but before I do, I catch sight of one of my workers. An idea springs into my head.

"You, there. Come with me."

"Yes, sir," he answers, though he seems genuinely disappointed to be leaving his buddies.

I lead him outside and hose him off to remove at least some of the mud and sweat. We walk all the way to my apartment. Luckily, he's mostly dry by then so I take him inside.

"Is this going to take awhile, sir?" he asks nervously, "I'm pretty tired and my bedmate is going to sleep soon."

"Shut up and get on the bed," I command.

His mouth snaps shut and he obediently approaches my soft king bed, crawling onto it like I told him to. I sigh when I notice that the stupid oaf still tracked a lot of mud in. I'll have to make him clean it all up later.

"Now, you aren't going to speak or move unless I tell you too," I instruct, "But you will realize that anything I do will be exactly what you want: no matter what I do..."

He gazes back at me numbly.

"Tell me you understand."

"I understand, sir," he instantly repeats.

Tonight is going to be a long night for him. Too bad he still has to wake up early and report to work. I'm already planning on sleeping in. I don't mind keeping my workers waiting for a few hours while I rest. It's my company after all, and they're just dogs for labor...

#gay mind control #construction worker #humiliated slave #gay hypnosis #gay ai art

[pyro-chaos]

Mike Schmidt x Reader

Pt: 3 Friday Nights

Summary: Abby’s first sleepover gives you and Mike some alone time.

The friendship continues

Tropes: fluff, sultry thoughts but no explicit smut.

Word count: 3337

And they were roommates…

Pt. 3 of This Series

A\N: Hey!! So I’m a bit more insecure about this one than I am with my previous two parts. I still think it’s sweet, and I like how it turned out, but let me know if I should do a rewrite!!

“I mean truly, the stark change within Abby…”

The school counselor’s words fall on ears occupied with something else.

“….I mean I’ve never seen…”

Mike tried to pay attention - at the beginning - but eventually the words tangled together to create a meaning the counselor could’ve communicated with one or two sentences.

“… so quickly. Whatever you’re doing, it’s clearly…”

Plus, Mike has more important things on his mind.

“… good that she has someone like you.”

Mike barely catches the end of her…seemingly endless lecture.

He hears the compliment. It feels unwarranted but Mike politely grins anyway.

Mike has questions. He has so many questions.

The problem that the counselor is referring to… Abby healed it on her own, mostly. Her friends helped her - but crawling out of her shell - thats all her. Mike just made sure she didn’t die. Even then…

He still feels stabbing guilt; a lot of the time. For what he almost did.

“Sh - She gets nightmares, sometimes,” Mike does too, but this isn’t about him.

“is” he gulps down the lump in his throat, “- is there anything I can do?”

The counselor folds her hands together like she’s trying to explain something to a feral child. Mike recognizes the gesture. It’s not one of genuine kindness; it’s the kind of gesture someone enacts when dealing with a delicate situation.

“Does she talk to anyone? About the nightmares.”

Mike huffs, “she’s pretty tight lipped about it,” but he knows that she wants them to stop.

“No,” the counselor almost sounds amused, Mike tries not to let the tone offend him.

“I mean does she talk to anyone about it.”

Ah. He gets it now.

“You mean like a shrink?” He questions.

The counselor nods and gives him a look doused in sympathy. It makes Mike want to get up and leave.

“Can’t afford it.”

“Ah,” she says, before launching into another lecture about how to avoid dreams, and calm anxiety before bed.

Mike listens this time.

The day after the meeting, Mike goes about his day.

Everything goes how it’s supposed to go. He goes to work, coordinates with his project supervisor, and eats lunch.

Until he gets a call from Abby’s school.

When Mike’s coworker, Jordan, calls him out of the work room, he says it’s an emergency.

Mike’s heart fucking palpitates. He almost drops the damn drill.

He’s never struggled to take off his gloves, or unclip the bulky helmet, but he does now. His hands get clammy and hot. It gets hard to breathe.

Mike’s still has the safety goggles on when he gets to the phone.

“Hello? What’s wrong?”

Abby’s voice comes through the other end, “Can I have a sleepover with Selina?”

Mike exhales. He rips the safety goggles off and rubs the bridge of his nose.

He takes one more deep breath before answering, “Is that all you called to ask?”

Abby confirms before launching into an explanation, “Please, please. Katy is going, and so is Josie and Sofia and they’re making cookies and Silena has a trampoline.”

Mike’s tapping the phone, his fingers feel tingly and that urge to hold his breath comes back, “Look, I don’t think that’s a good -“

“- No, It’s fine. They have a trampoline Mike, please.”

She doesn’t get it.

That’s the hardest part. She doesn’t understand that she’s not safe at someone else’s house. Overnight? What if there’s a fire? or what if she can’t sleep?

Mike remembers the school counselor's words about Abby’s progress. He would’ve taken her opinion with a grain of salt, if he didn’t see it for himself.

Even according to Mike’s independent observation; Abby’s started to smile around other kids a lot more compared to before.

In fact, she’s planning fucking sleepovers with other kids.

Mike thinks about his mom.

What would their parents do?

“I want to talk to Selina’s parents first.”

So, Mike does end up talking to Selina’s parents.

He meets them in the parking lot after school.

They explain the whole ordeal. Their plans and the occasion that sparked the sleepover.

They seem normal. They remind Mike of coworkers his dad used to invite to 4th of July grills.

The mom - Janice - works at the hospital, and the dad - Sean - works at a bakery.

Sean and Janice give Mike their house address. So, he knows where to drop off Abby after she goes home to pick up clothes and a sleeping bag.

When Mike enters the car, he’s greeted with two sets of expectant gazes.

Mike’s eyes shift between the two of you, Abby’s grinning, but you just look sheepish.

Mike rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, “make sure to pack your toothbrush.”

Abby smiles on the way home.

You're in the living room when just Mike walks through the door.

You have pajamas on, and you’re lounging on a loveseat tilted towards the TV. A mug of wine rests on the coffee table. Along with some type of cheese and cracker.

Something smells good.

“There’s food on the stove, it should still be hot” you call, then eat a cracker.

Mike beelines a straight shot to the kitchen, “Thanks.”

You mhm through a mouthful.

Mike can’t wait to eat, but when he reaches for a plate he sees the specks of sawdust layering his clothes.

He clenches his jaw, and counts backwards from ten.

“Hey, uh, I’m gonna shower first, but if you leave the dishes I’ll do them later.”

Your eyes stay glued to the TV, “Okay, there’s also wine on the top of the fridge. If you want any.”

Mike showers and dresses. When he returns to the kitchen, the quietness hits him square in the face.

Abby’s not in the house, and it feels like he’s forgetting something important - Like his keys are missing, or he lost his wallet - It puts him on edge.

Despite his unease, something sweet and warm, like syrup, spreads through Mike when he serves himself a portion of dinner.

It’s mostly covered up by the gray-haired worry about Abby at someone else’s house, but Mike won’t deny the comfort of having a good meal, and wine, after working.

Mike doesn’t know how he did it when he lived alone with Abby. He had to cook, clean, and pay bills. All on his own.

Back before you, Mike would have to leave in thirty minutes for his second shift of the day.

Mike wonders if Abby enjoys the new schedule as much as he’s enjoying it.

He brings the food and the wine to the coffee table, and sits on the sofa adjacent to your loveseat.

Mike has no idea what the fuck you’re watching, but it seems…interesting.

He doesn’t care to complain, though. It’s not like he’s invested in the show.

A few beats of comfortable silence fly by before you speak, “How was work?”

Your question feels like an embrace. It’s the type of question that someone asks when they want to talk, but can’t think of anything else to say.

You want to talk to Mike, and it makes him feel some type of way.

Maybe it’s not that deep.

“Good - long - what’re we watching?”

“No idea. I think she,” you point to a character, “wants to do something that he-” you point to a different character, “doesn’t like. So, she’s going behind his back and stuff. But I’m just watching this because I like the show that comes on next, and I don’t wanna miss it.”

Mike hums through his food. He kind of wants to ask why you’re not going out. It’s Friday night.

Are you feeling alright? What’s different about this Friday from all the other Fridays?

Instead he does the dishes.

When he returns, he’s still not really paying attention to your show. Even though, every now and then you’ll add commentary. He just mhm’s through it.

Does Abby remember his number in case she wants to go early? What if she gets too cold in their house? What if she has a nightmare? Would she call him?

His fingers are pulling apart the threads at the arm of the couch, and his leg is bouncing.

He drinks more wine.

“- about it?”

Mike snaps out of his head, “uh,” he tries to blink himself awake, “- sorry, what?”

You shrug and gesture to his fingers pulling apart the couch, “you’re um,” you clear your throat, “you seem… off. Do you want to talk about it?”

He…didn’t even notice that he was fidgeting with the threads like that.

“Oh,” he chuckles, but the sound comes out sounding more awkward, and nervous than amused, “is it that obvious?”

“No, no not at all,” you make eye contact with him, and that creamy comfort returns to make a sugary home in Mike’s chest.

“Well…” you begin, “…Kinda, yeah.”

This time, the laugh you pull out of Mike sounds genuine. Even to him.

It’s not a huge laugh, more of a happy scoff really, but it makes him feel a little better nonetheless.

“It’s just…” Mike starts, and you direct your body to face him instead of the TV.

Even though your show is playing. You want to listen to Mike more than you want to watch your show.

He has to fight down a smile, “…this is the first time Abby’s had a sleepover.”

Your mouth makes an O-shape, and you nod like you’ve got it all figured out.

“Yeah, the first time is always the hardest.”

That makes Mike think. How would you know?

“My mom used to get so nervous when my brother started going to sleepovers,” you add.

Your understanding of his nervousness makes sense, given the backstory, but there’s a detail in that sentence about you, and it means something to him.

“You have siblings?”

You nod excitedly, “a brother and a sister.”

Mike literally has no idea how he’s never heard about this before, “how - how old are they?”

“My sister’s seventeen. She’s a junior in High school,” you’re talking with your hands as you talk about your siblings. You seem excited, It’s making Mike smile.

“You should see her play sports, she's the Volleyball team captain this year…”

For real, you’re talking about them like you’re proud, and the genuine joy in your tone makes Mike want to crawl up next to you.

“- and my brother’s heading into middle school but he’s such a sweet kid. He used to get so excited when we went to the park. He loves to climb trees.”

It sounds like you haven’t seen them in a while.

The stories connect a few dots for Mike, though. This is why you’re good with Abby.

You and Mike end up talking more, he blames the wine.

Apparently, he gets chatty when he feels that familiar alcohol-induced warmth in his stomach.

Eventually, he asks why you didn’t go out on a Friday night.

The answer is much simpler than he expects.

“My show finally came out with a new season, and the new episodes air on Fridays.”

Mike snickers. His amusement comes at the expense of himself. Of course it was something simple, he doesn’t know why he even bothered to speculate.

He doesn’t expect you to return the question. But you do.

“ - it’s your night off, Abby’s taken care of, and don’t you miss going out and doing your own thing?”

Well, to be honest, he never really had the time. For years, Mike spent nights occupied with…something he doesn’t need to do anymore.

He can’t tell you that, though.

So he says, “Nah, I never went out. Even before Abby.”

“Is it ‘cause you don’t like crowded spaces?”

Mike doesn’t think too hard about that, but he snickers because it feels like you pulled it out of a hat.

He snickered again. He’s doing that a lot around you.

It’s probably just the wine.

“No? Just never had the time.”

You nod, but then you get that wide-eyed excited look that you got when you asked Mike to move in with you,

“Wanna go out tonight?”

If anyone, ever, asked about why Mike agreed as quickly as he did, he’d blame the wine. He’d blame the wine until he went blue in the face and died of suffocation.

He doesn’t even admit to himself that the wine isn’t the reason he said yes.

After he agrees, you tell him about a place that you think he’d like.

You say that it’s, “like a botanical garden, but they put lights up, and serve food, at night.”

You tell him that it’s not crowded, like a bar or club, because technically it’s a fancy place, and that’s why you both need to change clothes before calling a cab.

So, Mike calls a cab. Then, he puts on a button-down shirt, and throws on a pair of his nice jeans.

Still, he feels slightly, very, underdressed compared to you.

You come out of your room wearing an elegant little black dress that hugs parts of you in a way that makes Mike blush and breathe heavy.

Your neck stays uncovered. He sees the skin where the hickies used to be, but this time there’s no hickies.

Mike can think of a way to change that.

His dick jumps, and he wishes he could do something about it.

You make him feel things that he doesn’t want to feel.

“You ready?” You ask, and Mike has to swallow and take a deep breath to keep himself in check.

He’s very ready. Just, not in the way you think.

“Uh, yeah. Are - are you?”

You smile and nod.

The cab drive goes well. Mike’s getting used to the tightness in his pants.

So, that place that you’d said he’d like, he does.

At first, it felt like he didn't belong. A lot of people dressed better than him, many have their hair in hairstyles, and he can’t pronounce more than half the food on the menu.

You can, though.

To be fair, the menu ended up as a non-problem; because after you pointed out the prices, Mike gave you a look, and you gave him the same look back.

You both scurried out of the seating area before an employee could take any orders.

Mike likes the botanical garden.

He likes how you talk in the botanical garden.

It costs to get in, but it’s gorgeous.

It's the twilight hour when you walk through the pathway together.

Sometimes your arms brush.

Every time it happens, Mike’s heart fills with something, but you don’t seem affected.

He glances at your fingers throughout the walk. He starts to note the little divots in your palms. How would they feel against his? Would you be mad? If Mike picked up your hand and kissed the palm?

You talk about the practical uses of plants that you see. Mike learns that dried-up yarrow leaves can help clot blood. He also learns that solar energy powers the lights shining on the rows of green life.

You talk about how cool it is, that the owners made this place one-hundred-percent sustainable, and he can’t help but agree.

Your smile infects him with feelings that flutter through his arteries, and you’re smiling a lot.

Eventually, conversation lulls, but it’s the nice kind of lull. It’s a quiet comfort, like warm sheets and fresh tea.

There’s a greenhouse exhibit towards the end of the pathway. A worker checks in your coat, then tells you where to pick it up at the end of the exhibit.

When he first steps inside, Mike nearly goes into shock over the change in temperature. It’s hot, and he has to roll up his sleeves immediately or risk complaining about it.

It doesn’t help.

The place smells good, though; like moist soil and moss.

The greenhouse has fairy lights hanging overhead, and multicolored flowers decorate the pathway.

It’s laid out like a maze, the illuminated path winds around little islands of floral beauty.

Mike likes the palm trees. Most of them have pretty colored lights wrapped around the trunk.

It’s nice, Mike won’t deny the otherworldliness of the beauty, but honestly, he wouldn’t enjoy it as much if you weren’t there.

You bring a certain excitement to the excursion that Mike doesn’t think he can feel on his own.

You ask him if he likes plants, and honestly, he’s never thought about it.

He shrugs says they’re nice, because they are, and they’re starting to remind him of you.

His shirt collar is drenched in sweat by the time you two get to the end of the greenhouse.

He’s self-conscious about the wetness at first, but then he sees your neck.

It makes him want to do other things that would make you sweat.

The garden isn’t that populated right now. He could do it, if you wanted it too.

Lift up your skirt, press his dick against the plush of your ass. He’d nuzzle his nose into the crook of neck, and breathe you in before dragging his tongue along your nape.

He’d grab a fistful of your tits from the front of your dress.

He would take off your panties, but he wouldn’t give them back. He’d keep them in his pocket like a treasured souvenir.

Would you like it? If Mike made you walk around with wetness staining your inner thighs?

Maybe you’d find it demeaning, to be forced to walk around like that, but maybe you wouldn’t.

Mike’s very glad that it’s nighttime, because it’s too dark for you to see the outline of his half-hard dick.

The pathway leads to an outdoor bar.

The counter rests under a gazebo-like structure. Vines curl around the pillars like the lights on the palm trees, and quiet music plays over the chatter of the customers.

The bartender greets you by name.

You introduce the bartender to Mike as Miranda, and it takes him a moment to realize that he’s seen her before.

Miranda comments on it before he does. Mike probably wouldn’t have anyway.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you before, you’re the roommate right?” Miranda asks, and Mike gives her a tight-lipped grin.

“Yeah, it’s nice to officially meet you,” he returns.

“Yeah you too,” she says, “Anyway, is there anything I can get you guys? Completely on the house.”

You get a little wide-eyed at that, “Hey no, it’s okay, we can -“

“- I still owe you for dinner last week, remember? It’s fine. Tequila sunrise?”

You ease into your barstool, a soft, yeah spilling from your lips.

Mike thinks it's cute.

However, Miranda’s attention moves to Mike, and his panic chases away the good feelings.

Mike’s never been to a bar like this before. He’s not sure what to order, he’s not sure how, “uh, what do you have?”

Miranda gestures to the bottles behind her, “I can make anything as long as we have the ingredients. What do you usually drink?”

He doesn’t.

“Do you have anything…” Mike’s cheeks are heating, he can feel it, it’s making him feel dumb, “…non-alcoholic?”

Miranda doesn’t judge his inability to order quickly. It helps.

“Yeah, I can do virgin drinks. What were you thinking?”

God, all these questions. He doesn’t like turning down free shit, but he’s starting to feel tempted to.

“What’s popular?”

“Piña Coladas and Strawberry Daiquiris are the most popular virgin drinks, but we also have fountain drinks if that sounds better.”

“Strawberry Daiquiris are good, they’re like slushies.” You interject.

Mike orders a Strawberry Daiquiri.

When Miranda leaves, Mike feels like he can breathe again.

Mike wonders, if you notice the nervousness behind the way he’s crossing his arms, because you smile, and tell him that he looks nice in a button-down.

Miranda returns with free drinks before he can think himself into a hernia.

Abby would like the Strawberry Daiquiri.

For the rest of the night, Miranda makes stops at yours and Mike’s corner of the bar.

Miranda’s presence made Mike uncomfortable at first, because he doesn’t know her, but your friend pulls him into conversations in ways that he doesn’t mind.

It helps that Mike likes how you look at him when Miranda asks him a question.

He likes how you’re paying attention to him, even when your friend is right in front of you.

Miranda comes out from behind the bar when you mention that it’s getting late.

She gives you a hug first, then she shakes Mike's hand.

Her touch makes him think of your palms.

When the two of you get home, it’s just a little past 10 p.m.

Mike wants to thank you, for showing him a place like that, and for spending your evening with him.

He didn’t have to spend the night cooped up, worrying himself into a frenzy, because you brought him out.

The gratitude gets stuck in his throat.

What does he say? Hey, thanks for spending a night around me! Let’s do it again sometime!

Well, sure, he could say that, but he would rather stay quiet.

He doesn’t want to come off too strong, he doesn’t want to give you a peek into the meat of him.

He’s surprised when you say something.

“Thank you for coming out. I had fun.”

The words come out a little awkwardly, like you’re unsure.

Mike’s eyes find yours, and the little smile in the corner of your lips makes him feel better - despite the quiet house.

He licks his lips and offers you a similar small grin, “Yeah, Me too.”

And he means it.

A/N: Although I feel conflicted about this chapter, I’m very thankful for the love you’ve given me on the previous two!

I hope you enjoyed!

#fnaf movie #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #fnaf #mike schmidt #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson #josh hutchinson

[honeytrap26]

I’ll Play Nice

Satoru Gojo x Reader

summary: Your boss invites you and your husband Satoru Gojo to dinner. cw: !!MDNI!! NSFW, talks about sex, gets a little heated between reader and Satoru. There’s cocks in here and I mean cocky men. 😉 aunote: I’ve been pining over Raiden from eighty-six, I can’t help it. just imagine two muscular men, almost equally as tall as each other, fighting over you. I just love Raidens and Satorus dub voices. I hope you all enjoy this one and happy reading! 🐼🖤 wc: 2k+ (proofread but there might be some errors)

This is your boss, Raiden Shuga Cookies for a Confession: a Raiden fluff.

“ Good work today, you did an amazing job with that presentation.” your boss taps on the edge of your desk.

“ Thank you Mr. Shuga.” you smile at him,

“ Please… just call me Raiden. Mr. Shuga is my father.” he chuckles, “ There's no need for formalities.”

“ Thank you...Raiden. But I can't get all the credit for it. We all contributed to that project.” you shut down your computer, grabbing your purse from underneath your desk.

“ Well, you should accept the compliment, you are their supervisor and that says a lot. The company has seen so many improvements since you started working here.” he smiles at you as he loosens his tie.

“Thank you again Mr. Shuga- I’m sorry. Raiden.” you get up from your chair, and begin to walk out when he calls your name.

“ Are you available this Saturday? I would like to take you out to dinner.” he clears his throat, unbuttoning his suit jacket. 

You let out a nervous chuckle, his question making you feel uneasy. He can see you shift uncomfortably in your spot.

“I didn’t mean it in that way.” he sighs, “Let me start over, I would like to invite you and your husband to dinner. I’m currently looking for a potential…”

“Partner? A girlfriend or perhaps a boyfriend?” you inquire. 

He laughs and shakes his head,

“No, a business partner. I have been inviting potential employees and coworkers out to a casual dinner to get to know them more. I would like to start my own business. I am going to need a partner and I would like to know what someone is like in a casual setting.”

You stand there for a moment before you mouth “Oh”

“So that’s what everyone has been talking about.” you clap your hands together, “it all makes sense now” Raiden raises an eyebrow,

“There’s been talk that you’ve been inviting people out to dinner and we all thought it was because you’re looking for someone to date.” you purse your lips together, awaiting his answer.

“Is…is that why everyone has been giving me weird looks lately?” he scans the empty workplace. “That's so embarrassing.” he drops his head down.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” you let out a laugh, amused at his reaction, “but yes dinner is fine with me. I will see you tomorrow night. Now if you’ll excuse me, my husband should be calling me in 3- 2-1.” your phone rings, you wave to him.

“Have a goodnight Raiden.” you smile at him and walk out of the door into the hallways, waiting for an elevator.

“Toru, are you almost ready? We’re going to be late.” you say slipping your heels on.

“Why am I going?” Gojo takes his time to tie his tie.

“Because he wants to meet you and also I might become a potential business partner.” you say excitedly,  checking your make up once more in the mirror.

“More like just a potential partner in bed. Is this guy even hot?” Gojo glances at you wiping off the lipstick on your teeth.

“He’s not bad looking.” you shrug your shoulders.

“So he is hot” he sulks.

 You walk over to Gojo and help him tie his tie.

“ You know I only have eyes for you and I love you. Now hurry up” -you slap his butt- “ you look good in a suit.” you give Gojo a quick kiss on the lips.  

His face lights up and he pulls you in closer to him, he whispers in your ear,

 “Oh yeah, I think I look better in a birthday suit.”he begins to kiss up and down your neck, he places his hands on your hips making you walk backwards until your back is against the wall.

Your hands roam his chest up to his tie, tugging it. Gojo smirks, his hands find their way to your ass giving it a hard squeeze making you whine.

“That's what I like to hear.” he grabs your face, his soft lips meeting yours, he licks your bottom lip but then  you push him away.

“No no no. We have to go.” you say panting, Gojos hands continue to roam all over your body. He tugs at your dress, lifting it up,

“Come on, just a quick one? Your boss can wait. You look so beautiful in that red dress. I wanna rip it off of you.” his fingers hit the lace on your panties, making him more urgent but you grab a hold of his hands. 

“I know you’re the almighty Satoru Gojo and everyone waits for you but I’m not special. If you’re a good boy and play nice. Maybe I'll give you a little something on the way home.” you grab his tie and tug it gently, he moans biting his lower lip knowing exactly what you meant by that.

“Come on! We’re really going to be late now.” you fix your dress and walk out the door.

“But baby! I’m hard.” he whines, chasing after you.

Satoru and you drive down to the very expensive steakhouse your boss wants to meet at.

“So much for a casual dinner?” Gojo laughs in disbelief.

 “I wonder if he’s already in there waiting for us.” you say nervously.

A sleek matte black motorcycle pulls in just as you're about to walk into the building. The rider revs it a couple of times before putting it in idle. He leans back into the seat and slips off his black leather gloves. The man is wearing a white fitted dress shirt, you can see his tattoos peeking through the cuffs of the shirt, he has on a gray vest over it.

“Hi Raiden,” you smile at your boss. Gojo’s eyebrows furrow as he sees how cheesy you get for your boss.

“Hi…Raiden.” Gojo imitates your voice under his breath, he pretends to clutch his pearls.

“Hey it’s so nice to see you.” Raiden says holding the helmet in one hand, he gets off the bike, walks over to and gives you a hug, he kisses the back of your hand.

“Wow…you’re so breathtakingly beautiful..” he takes a step back to take in…… all of your beauty.

Gojo growls under his breath, his long legs swiftly walk over to you, he wraps his arms around your waist pulling you in. His arctic blue eyes stare daggers into Raiden while he gives you a quick kiss.

“Behave." you slap Gojos chest playfully. “ I'm sorry about that. This is my husband, Satoru Gojo.”

Raiden's emerald eyes narrow at Gojo and he smirks,

“Nice to meet you, husband of this beautiful lady. You’re very lucky.” Raiden chuckles, taking your hand again and giving it another kiss, this time Raidens emerald eyes are focused on Gojo with the same piercing stare.

“You already did that.” Gojo snatches your hand away from him. 

Raiden just laughs, he waves for the valet boy.

“Yes sir,” the valet boy bows to Raiden.

“Just the usual spot. Have fun.” Raiden winks at the valet boy and fixes his suit. 

“Show off.” Gojo scoffs rolling his eyes, he hands the keys to the car to the same valet boy.

“Oh wait, I almost forgot to grab the reports.” you run after the valet boy to get your keys.

Gojo and Raiden are standing there, they both watch as you walk away heading back to the car.

“ You’re the boss, huh?” Gojo slips his hands in his dress pants, he sizes up Raiden, he's only a few inches shorter than Gojo.

“That’s me.” Raiden grins, he sweeps his hands out palms facing up, showing that he doesn’t mean to cause any harm.

Gojo lets out a sarcastic chuckle, he takes a step closer to Raiden, putting a hand on his shoulder. He leans in and says,

“I love my wife and I’ll do anything for her. So for her sake. I’ll play nice.” Gojo says the last part through gritted teeth, he squeezes Raiden's shoulder firmly before letting go.

“ Sorry about that, I just finished the reports earlier today and thought you may want to take a look at it.” you hand the file over to Raiden.

“That wasn’t necessary, I already told you I wasn’t in a rush to get it back.” he accepts the file and tucks it under his arm. “Shall we head inside? I’m starving.” he ushers for you and Gojo to go in first.

“Nice to meet ya boss.” Gojo pats Raiden's shoulder twice making sure to hit him a little harder than he would to most people.

The three of you are sitting at the table, Raiden sitting across from you and Gojo. The orders were placed based on Raiden's recommendation. The waiter brought out wine for the table also based on Raidens recommendation.

“Now shall we begin?” Raiden washes down the very expensive appetizer with wine, he wipes his mouth with the serviette and places it back on his lap.

“Hmm..” you cover your mouth, you chew quickly and take a sip of your wine.

“No need to rush, take your time.” Raiden chuckles. He leans back in his chair.

“Why do you want to start your own business?” Gojo’s eyes narrow at him.

“ What can I say? I want new things. I want things I can’t have and in order for me to get those things I have to leave and grow bigger.” Raiden licks his lips, his eyes darken, practically undressing you.

“So you’re a grower not a shower” -Gojo gulps down his glass of wine- “figures.” he grins, placing a hand on your inner thigh, he leans in to whisper loudly in your ear.  “I think she knows how much I show and grow for her.”

You choke on your food and excuse yourself to the restroom.

The night was oddly weird, this was supposed to be a nice casual conversation with your boss and your husband. At first you thought maybe it was just in your head but as the wine continued pouring the mouths started roaring, somehow this dinner turned into them fighting about who’s dick was bigger.

“That was a very nice meal, thank you for paying for dinner.” you say to your boss.

“No problem at all. We should do this more often.” he winks at you then looks at Gojo, 

“of course with your husband too. We can’t leave him out, he loves attention.”

You laugh at Raidens joke a little too hard for Gojos liking.

“Hey, why don’t we go to some place less fancy. You want to get to know me. I’ll show you.” Gojo says to him. 

You grab him trying to push him but Gojo is built like a tank and doesn’t move if he doesn’t want to. 

 Raiden shakes his head, “I’m fine. It was good meeting you.”

“What are you afraid of me?” -Gojo lets out a fake laugh- “Is it because…” -he tilts his head up- “ you’re weak?” 

You can see the cocky attitude slowly ooze out of him. It was time to take him home.

“Oookay it’s time to go. It was really nice to have dinner with you Raiden. Thank you for paying again.  I’ll see you at work on Monday.” you quickly wave at him, you pull Gojo away when Raiden says,

“ Actually I do want some more drinks, it doesn’t hurt to let loose once in a while, I can play nice.” he stares at Gojo coldly, then he clicks his tongue and shoots you with that charming smile of his. “I’ll see you guys there.”

It was on. If Satoru Gojo wanted to play nice, so could Raiden Shuga.

Extra Trimmings! “So…do I get a blowjob now?” he lets out a toothy grin. “No! What makes you think that you deserve a blowjob?” you slap his arm. “Ow! You said if I play nicely then I get a blowjob.” he reasons with you. “ Was telling my boss-” you lift your chin at him and imitate him. “-you’re weak. Playing nicely?” you sigh, “I’m so gonna get fired.”

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #raiden shuga #gojo smut #raiden x reader #satoru gojo x reader smut #satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #eighty six #i'll play nice #honeytrap🐼

[anundyingfidelity]

YES, MA’AM — Sam Winchester/Sam Wesson ft. Dean Winchester/Dean Smith (Chapter I)

Summary: Sam is the new tech support guy at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., and he thinks you, his supervisor, are related to him in ways more than professional. He not only dreams of ghosts and Dean Smith, the sales and marketing director, but you, the pretty boss who seems very fond of him, maybe a little too much.

Word count: 1.3k.

Pairing: Sam W./Sam Wesson x female reader (main), Dean W./Dean Smith x female reader. Situated in 4x17 - It's a Terrible Life.

Warnings for this series: smut with plot, sexual tension, sub!Sam, dom!reader, switch!Dean, co-workers with benefits with Dean, boss/employee dynamics, canon violence and stuff.

Notes: welcome to my very first spn fanfic, hope you enjoy this short series of Sam and Dean!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

Chapter I: A Boring Life

Taking a quick look at the clock on the corner of the screen of his computer, Sam let out a long sigh. Lunch hour was far from near. He continued drawing the monsters he saw in his dreams on the notebook, those who wouldn't let him continue his abnormally boring and stupid life.

"Hey, Sam," a voice called, making him jump slightly on his seat.

He cleared his throat shutting the notebook and sitting right this time as he took in your figure towering over him in the cubicle with a smile on your lips.

"Hi, uhm... Is something wrong?"

You chuckled slightly. He wanted to slap himself for saying that. For Sam, bosses coming to him meant he might have done something wrong. He didn't want to know what he screwed up. Barely three weeks have passed since he started working there. As much as things were strange and weird around, Sam just wanted a quiet life.

"Not at all," you answered in a friendly manner. "Actually I just wanted to give you kudos. I've received good compliments from customers who called for help, you're doing excellent!"

Sam breathed out, feeling a heavy weight on his back dropping. He smiled. "Well, thank you. It feels good doing that."

But a raise or something would feel absolutely better, he thought.

"Sure! You're brilliant, have you ever been told that?"

"Uhm, not here. I mean- I want to say you're the first one. Sorry, the first one to say I'm brilliant, I- uhm I never really got kudos before? I don't think so but it does feel great."

He stumbled so much with his words that it made you laugh a little but he noticed you tried to suppress it. So you gave him a nod.

"Yeah, of course. I also see you're very organized with your stuff and reports," you remarked before taking a quick glance around and leaning a little bit toward him, your face morphing into a shy look. "Probably I shouldn't but could you help me with some reports today? You'd be off the phone, I just really need to send them by the end of the day and I'm extremely busy."

You bit your painted lower lip with big doe eyes, waiting for an answer. Since the first day he saw you around the company, he thought you looked extremely familiar. Like he had seen you before. Hell, it was like he knew you ages ago. But he wouldn't say it out loud, he might look like a creep.

You'd usually come like this to his spot just to talk and get into business, sometimes he'd go to ask you something he wasn't sure about from a call, but he never, ever herd from a complaint or that his work was shit from you. In fact, you were very kind and smart, always letting him know you were there if he needed anything. And you were pretty. So damn beautiful that you got his heart agitated and his body aching when you bent over a desk wearing tight black pencil skirts and those matching high stockings. He began to think probably you liked him but you used to get close to all of your employees on the tech support floor. You were just being nice to everyone.

"Uh, sure. I can do that," Sam curved his lips into a smile.

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver! I'll send you those in your email, ask me anything if it's difficult, okay?"

You responded with happy demeanour and quickly walked away back to your office, leaving him alone before he had the moment to say something. Just two minutes later he received an email from you with a bunch of reports and data to organize.

Sam scanned the files quickly while hearing the sounds of a chair rolling to his side.

"I think she likes you, man," Ian, the messy and chill coworker of his, teased. Sam chuckled.

"Nah, she's just nice to everyone. Besides, she needs help."

Suddenly, a notification popped from the side of his screen on the computer.

It was a message from you. It read:

Put on the headphones and listen to some music if you want ;)

"You were saying?" Ian joked again.

He smiled. Well, at least he'd be off the phone. Shouldn't be that hard, right?

The night fell and Sam found himself alone on his desk at eight o'clock working on your reports. Seeing the long reports and files he thought could make it on time to finish his shift at four and leave on time. It was fucking Friday. Poor him.

At least you ordered delivery for dinner for both of you. The good thing was that he wasn't really alone on the floor, you were in your office but soft music played as you worked on your stuff. Moments later, you found yourself sitting by Sam's side as he worked the final things on the last report.

"It's done," he announced, his body falling to the backrest of his chair.

"Thanks," you whispered shyly as he sent the finished files back to you. "I'm so sorry though, it's so late."

"Well, didn't have anything to do either."

"Really?!"

Your surprise made his eyes fall on you. He shrugged. "Just sleep."

You raised your eyebrows. "I thought maybe a girlfriend was waiting for you or something?"

He shook his head, pressing his lips together. "No, nothing like that."

The question was odd coming from you, so he decided to play a little.

"What about you?"

This time you shook your head. "Just my books and my TV."

Sam hummed. "It's a boring life, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well I get to pay my bills by the end of the month... And I meet nice people here... And I see you- Sorry."

You cut off your words all of a sudden, your eyes blinking rapidly saying you realized what you just said.

"My bad. We should get going."

You gave him a smile to try and brush off your words, but they were strong enough to get in Sam's head unnoticed. He watched you walk away, turning your computer and lights off on your office as Sam did the same on his spot. Once done, you walked out the floor together in silence.

"Thank you again. I don't think no one would ever do this for me here," you admitted with a deep exhale.

"Yeah, no problem," Sam smiled kindly as you got closer to the elevator.

"Really, I owe you. Do you have a car to get home or something? I can give you a ride if you need."

"I do, don't worry," he said as you stopped in front of the elevator, the doors opening.

"Great, so I think this is it," you grinned at him. "Have a good night."

"Thanks. I hope you have a good weekend, boss."

You nodded. "You too, Sam. Take care."

He saw you disappearing inside the elevator with a wave of your hand and a beautiful smile on your face. With a sigh, he made his way to the locker room and took his briefcase and stuff out. It was just a couple of minutes that he saw you leaving when he went back to the elevator. Checking his watch, the lift arrived and before he could get inside, he got a shocking picture in front of him.

Dean Smith, the marketing director, had you pinned against the wall and kissing down your neck. Your blouse unbuttoned, skirt up, lips open and eyes closed in bliss. Dean noticed the doors were open, pulling away his plump lips from your skin.

"Sorry buddy, wrong floor," he beamed and pushed the right button.

When you opened your eyes once again, you met Sam's open mouth and wide eyes as the doors closed. Great, now he might think you're a slut. 

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x female reader #sam x reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester imagines #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean x reader x sam #sam wesson #dean smith #supernatural fanfiction

[sharksnshakes]

Dinner? - Albert Wesker

Wesker keeps calling you into his office to run point. It's definitely not anything deeper than that, right?

A/N; wesker? with a crush? unspeakable. gn!reader

Wordcount; 629

TW; one singular curse word, use of (y/n) and (l/n)

"(l/n)," Wesker calls, "A word?"

Startled, you glance up from your paperwork and cast a glance behind you. your captain's sticking his head out of his office door, watching you expectantly. You hadn't even heard it open.

It felt like Wesker was calling you into his office to run point every three seconds, and while Jill and Chris had reassured you the action was complimentary, you had your doubts. Even so, you set down your pen and shuffled your paperwork, nodding at the captain.

"Sure. Of course," you reply, meeting Wesker's eyes. The door shuts before you can finish speaking, and you resist sighing out loud.

It's not that you don't respect Captain Wesker: you do, really! No, you just feel like a bug under a microscope whenever you're in that office. You two compare notes--or, rather, Wesker asks your opinion, and you give it to him--and you leave feeling like you've either said the wrong thing, been too honest, or some combination of both.

It doesn't help that his added attention always made your cheeks flush. When he's hanging onto your every word and looking at you like that? It only made you even more hesitant to face him... he's attractive, and he knows it.

You passed Chris on your way to the office, and he gave you an encouraging thumbs-up. That was the other thing: Chris was practically Wesker's right hand man, and yet, you are the one who's constantly being called into his office. You tried not to think too hard about it as you pulled the door open and stepped inside.

Wesker was seated at his desk, focusing intently on a map of sorts, and you knocked softly on the doorframe.

The blond glanced up. "Come in. Shut the door behind you."

You nodded, closing it with a soft click. Your footfalls were quiet on the carpeted floor, and as you approached the desk, you waited for his inevitable questions.

"Dinner."

Your brow furrowed. "What about it?"

"Should I pick you up at seven?"

You blinked owlishly, shaking your head as if to physically clear it. "I'm sorry," you said, "Are you asking me on a date right now?"

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "Seven, then?"

Holy shit.

Wesker was asking you on a date. Like... actually.

"I... is that, like, against S.T.A.R.S. protocol? Dating my supervisor?" you asked, mouth moving faster than your brain. You wanted to take the words back the second they left your mouth, but when Wesker chuckled, amused, and leaned forward, chin in his palms, all of your self-doubts shriveled up and died.

"Would you like to go to dinner with me, or not?"

That is the question, isn't it? You'd been so certain of his dislike for you, but now? You prided yourself on being able to read people, but considering current circumstances, it was an ability you'd have to re-evaluate.

Well... how bad could it be?

"Uh. I'd--I think it could be fun," you finally answered, grasping for the right words. "Sure. I mean, yes! Yes, I'd like to go to dinner with you."

"Wonderful. I'll pick you up at seven."

He glanced back down at the map, and you failed to understand how he managed to exude the confidence required to ask people out so casually.

"I'll see you later, then?"

"Yeah. See you," you echoed, stepping out of his office.

The door shut behind you with a slight click, and you stood there, shocked.

You had a date tonight.

Had he always liked you?

"Looking a little pale there, (y/n)," Jill joked from across the room. "You alright?"

Oh, she didn't even know the half of it.

...What were you going to wear?

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x you #resident evil #resident evil x reader #tw suggestive themes #fluff #albert wesker imagine #resident evil imagines #when are the residents gonna stop being evil </3 #gn reader #gender neutral reader

[not-quite-normal]

hi! first off, thank you SO MUCH for your work on spiderverse - i'm still reeling from it. across the spiderverse was actual magic and to say i'm floored at the amount of work that went into it is a gigantic understatement ;-;

my question is basically: i've been animating in episodics for four years now, but our schedules are so tight there's barely time to breathe, let alone put together personal work for a reel. i wanna do better work and be involved in better projects (features like spiderverse are like, the ultimate ideal haha) but bad deadlines lock us into mediocre projects for years. i wanna break out somehow - you don't have to answer of course, but do you have advice?

and again: you people are magic and i am in awe forever, i wish you all the very best!!!

hey thanks a lot!

i totally get you, i worked in tv animation for 8 years before i started at sony (to which i applied and got rejected like 5 times before finally getting in). it can be very hard when you're on tv schedules to be able to animate something that properly showcases your skills for your demo reel. you could be the fastest, most talented, hard working animator but that's so difficult to see that on a demo reel full of tv work. so i have a couple pieces of advice for what worked for me!

time management. when you get assigned your shots, pick your "golden" shots that you want to spend a little extra time on. tell your lead/supervisor that you want to focus on these ones a little more than your usual shots so that they can give you a bit more in depth feedback (any good lead should be able to dive deeper for performance/polish notes). trade this extra time for easier shots that can be animated to a "good enough" standard

take an animation course outside of work. this one isn't for everybody because it can be a LOT on top of your actual job (and it costs some $$$), but i don't regret doing it one bit. i took an iAnimate course while i was working on tmnt and it was one of the best things i ever did for my career. my instructor was ted ty and he taught me so much about genuine acting/performance and feature level polish that i still apply to my workflow to this day. it's hard to get that level of feedback and attention to detail on your shots while working towards your weekly quota, so having that more personal one-on-one feedback is insanely helpful

workflow. this is more of a general tip but to help ease the deadline stress a bit to allow more time for personal stuff, it's absolutely worth it to put work into cleaning up/simplifying your workflow. take a hard look at areas that are taking up a lot of your time and see if you can find ways to make it easier on yourself! things like managing your rig setup to save you from having to counter-animate things, thoughtful constraint planning, using offset pivot points to create large smooth arcs easily, abusing tweenmachine (my beloved), and just overall thinking through how to set your shot up to make everything as easy and simple as you can!

i hope that helps, best of luck to you :)

#asks #anonymous #animation question

[ashlayan]

Overworked

I'm late but happy bday Horropedia 🥺🫶🏻

Tw: SFW, written with a fem reader in mind, a smol amount of angst followed by much fluff.

Pairing: Horropedia (Joshua) x reader.

May this year witness the freedom of Palestine 🇵🇸🇵🇸

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

Work in the Foundation was usually fine, the fact you were a Supervising Field Agent usually meant you got assigned, well, interesting field work. But sometimes the higher ups would demand evidence to backup your mission report "Claims", be it for a trial, or an open investigation, and you would need to spend all nighters sifting through both your and your subordinates' files, as well as archived news articles, archived books, archived tapes, or really anything that could be of use.

To say all that left you mentally exhausted would be an understatement.

More than anything, it makes you yearn to finish up work quickly and go home for a hot bath and indulge in your guilty pleasure: Romance Stories.

You're pretty sure anyone of your colleagues hearing about that hobby would be more likely to think they're being pranked than actually believe it.

You, who worked hard and rose quickly within the ranks of the foundation, despite your young age.

You, who thanks to your constant networking and relentless hard work, was the youngest to be awarded with the title of Field Supervisor, bar Vertin of course as she's the Timekeeper.

Exactly why, when asked, you would usually give the far more acceptable "Tennis" as an answer. Really at this point only very few people have any clue about your obsession, and only because they were your classmates back in your more innocent and naive school days. People like this fool who came unannounced, sitting uninvited on your office couch, thoroughly distracting you from your urgent task.

"And then, we're thinking the main character would be revealed to have actually been the real villain all along! Like the serial killer will still remain a separate person, but the way Blonney's thinking of doing it is making Jessica turn out to be even more terrifying!! We'll drop hints throughout the film and-"

And so he goes, on and on. He even stands up and starts pacing as he bothers you further.

You want to groan. This annoying, silly, helpless, cute, sweet, adorkable fool.

"Aren't you supposed to be grounded?" You say deadpan, "What are you even doing here?"

Horropedia stops and turns, facing you properly, "So you can talk!" He practically cries out with mock shock, his face a mask of "disbelief". "Here I thought you'd gone mute, turns out you were just ignoring me." He says as he walks over and plops down on a chair facing your desk.

You roll your eyes refusing to play along. "Some of us have work to get done, Joshua. We're not children anymore, it's high time you start acting like an adult and quit those silly, childish stories."

"Oh?" He says smugly, but you can tell you've definitely hit a nerve by calling him Joshua instead of his preferred nickname. He then proceeds to take a long look around your office, craning his neck this way and that.

You're not sure what he's planning but it can't be anything good.

"Bingo." He says just under his breath as he stands back up and heads for the cupboard you use as a make shift file cabinet. You tense slightly but remind yourself to keep a cool and aloof facade.

He places one hand against a compartment's door and asks: "So then, there isn't a hidden stash of silly, childish romance novels right in here?" He asks, tapping a finger against it.

Go big or go home. "Please, I outgrew that nonsensical hobby ages ago, do you honestly think I have the time to-"

Horropedia then grabs the door handle without permission and proceeds to yank it open-

Or he would have if the door wasn't locked shut. It doesn't even budge.

You smile smugly. "Did no one teach you going through people's belongings is bad manners?"

"Coming from the person who used to steal from my candy stash? I don't wanna hear it." He says dismissively, now focused on intently staring down your cupboard's lock.

You blush, because he's bringing back embarrassing childhood memories of your's, definitely not because he looks really hot when he stops being a lovable goof, or because of the way the light hits his side profile just right and he looks so serious in a rare picturesque way-

You snap yourself out of your reverie just as he brings something out of his utility belt, you blanch when you realize what it is.

"Seriously? Lockpicks? Who goes around carrying those?! Wait- is that how you got out of confinement?!"

Horropedia ignores you and gets immediately to work.

You spring up and rush towards him, only to arrive a second too late as he opens the cupboard with a dramatic flourish, revealing far too many books with cutesy artworks for covers, some with even more tantalizing titles. In fact, their were so many that they proceeded to slide down and out of the compartment, forming a sizeable pile on the floor.

Your stash now exposed, you do the next best thing and head straight for the open office door instead to shut it. This however is far from ideal.

You turn around slowly and as expected, the dork is giving you and adora- Infuriating smirk.

"How. How did you know they were in there-"

"Relax Short-Stuff, I just know you too well." He says, almost preening with pride at his "accomplishment".

You frown, "Don't call me that."

"Don't call me Joshua." He fires back.

You don't reply, and instead take a silent step towards him, then another.

Alarm starts bleeding into his expression, as he himself takes a step back while throwing a glance at the closed door behind you, no doubt gauging the distance in case you decide to attack.

Instead you ignore him and bend down to start gathering your precious but embarrassing treasures.

"What was that about knowing me so well?" You say offhandedly.

"Well- you used to tackle people who pissed you off so- I mean- Forget it."

Now with you both feeling defeated, he bends down to help you gather the books and says: "When do you even find time to read all of these? Everytime I see you you're either writing a report, heading to a mission or coming back from one."

"The car rides are usually pretty quiet, I can read them in peace as long as I hide the covers." You say without looking up.

After a moment of Horropedia not saying anything back or moving to help you, you look up.

"What?" You snap. You know that look, he's judging you. "If you have something to say say it."

"No, no, it's not like that I just... Do you ever get any rest? I'm pretty sure you even work weekends, and I heard you do volunteer work too. This isn't healthy is all I'm thinking."

You blink. Well yes, he does have a compassionate and sweet side too, it's usually hidden by his general tomfoolery though so you tend to forget about it. You also didn't expect him to be keeping an ear out for news about you, it's not like the two of you chat all that often either. You're caught sufficiently off guard that you now have your mouth hanging slightly open with no sounds coming out.

"Earth to (Y/N), you there?" He snaps his fingers a couple of times, and when you're still silent he sighs and continues gathering your babies- your books, and springs back up to stuff them in your cupboard, then dusts his hands off.

You're looking up at his standing form and damn, he actually looks really good from this angle, really accentuates his already impressive height-

This time he forgoes trying to talk to you and just grabs your from the waist and lifts you back to your feet, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder for good measure before letting you go.

Then he seems to think something over and places a hand on your forehead.

"You're not running a fever, but your zoning out is really out of character for ya. Good thing it's 6 already, you can clock out now." He says with a gentle smile.

The smile isn't exactly rare for him, but it also isn't something he usually gives you.

Ever since you set your sights on climbing the corporate ladder... You have been pushing everyone away, even those most precious to you. You've been taking on more and more, piling the tasks and duties up to the point where, sometimes, you just want to do something crazy and impulsive, to get the load off your shoulders even for a short while.

He's still gazing at you, but his smile is wavering. He's still waiting for an answer though.

You consider what would happen if you say yes to clocking out now, if you even gather some additional courage and ask him to hang out? As friends of course! For old times sake! But then again, if you're already that far, what if you ask him out for real? Maybe just for today, you can ignore the far too many responsibilities piled high on top of you and just-

You shake your head. "No sorry, I'm actually spending the night here, I have a lot of work to get done. I know you want to leave though, so you go on ahead, don't worry I won't rat you out so no one should come to drag you back to the school." You say with a chuckle, and wait for him to get going.

But he doesn't move. You can't read his expression, and the way the light hits his glasses isn't helping. Finally what he says is: "I guess you haven't changed that much after all."

Saying you're bewildered would be an understatement. "Huh?"

He loudly sighs, throwing his head back for added effect as he massages the bridge of his nose.

When he's looking back at you his glasses are now sitting crookedly on the space and you have to hold back the urge to reach up and fix them.

Two hands are now on your shoulders, as if to stop you from escaping the truth. "Listen." He says very seriously, all traces of his usually cheery voice gone. "I'm going to say this as plainly as possible. You're working yourself to the bone. I get it, you have some bigger picture in mind, some larger goal that I probably can't see and you're throwing everything trying to reach it but consider this. Maybe it's just not worth it. Not if you'll die long before you get to it within whatever crazy time limit you've set for yourself. Come on (Y/N), you're a field agent for God's sake, how lame would it be if you bite the dust from overworking on reports?!"

He's panting slightly, that speech was clearly coming from the heart and you really appreciate it, you really do, but ever since he first came in today you've had a nagging suspicion you've been trying to stamp down, but it was time to address the elephant in the room.

"Joshua. Why do you care so much? Because honestly the way you're talking right now..." You take a deep breath, "The way you sought me out today, the way you say all of this... I don't want to sound arrogant, but am I correct to assume that- that-"

You can't do this, if you're wrong what's left of your already dwindling friendship with him might be the price.

You back away from him. "I'm sorry never mind, forget I said anything, I'll keep your advice in mind so please just-" just go! I don't want you here when I cry!

But he must see something on your face because he's pulling you in for a hug. It feels so familiar so right that you can't help but melt into it. The exhaustion finally seems to catch up to you and you can't imagine having to trek the walk back to the dorms, much less get any more work done tonight.

You almost miss it, but you just barely make out the words "Yes, you are correct."

And that wakes you right back up.

You push back and straighten up, and he's immediately startling with you. "W-what?" He asks, looking absolutely adorable. This time, you do reach over and right his glasses.

"What did you just say? You whispered something just now, did I hear it right?" You stare at him intently, your gaze unwavering and determined.

He looks to the side, "Don't look at me like thaaaat." He quite literally whines.

"Like what?" You ask, finding yourself genuinely curious as to what he sees in your expression.

He looks back, "Like I'm one of your high priority missions. Don't give me hope if you don't mean it (Y/N)."

You're tired from a long, mentally exhausting day. Your brain to mouth filter is gone, but then again it usually is around Horropedia. You are not thinking straight but you kinda never are around this man.

You grab his necktie and snatch it down, dragging him with it. Your lips are on his in a second, he's reciprocating (thank goodness) the kiss in the next.

When the two of you break it off for air he has the widest grin he has ever given you. No not ever, but in a long time. The intense nostalgia is the last addition to the melange of feelings churning inside of you and the tears finally fall freely.

Predictably, Horropedia panics.

"I'M SO SORRY?! I DON'T KNOW WHAT I DID BUT I'M SORRY?!?! WAS IT THE KISS? IT WAS THE KISS WASN'T IT-"

You quickly cover his mouth before he broadcasts any more private information to the whole office floor.

"Shhhh! Calm down! I just... I just needed a good cry I guess..." You end meekly, wiping your tears away.

Horropedia stares at you wide eyed. In another situation this would be the perfect teasing material, (Y/N) actually knows how to cry?! Or something along those lines, but evidently even he has better sense than to do that, so he instead silently hugs you again, and doesn't tighten his hold until you hug him back.

You could stay in his arms forever, which sounds cliche but isn't that amazing? That you could get to think of something so silly and cliche instead of the probability of success of your next mission strategy? You take a small step back without letting go, just to look at the wall clock and debate what to do next. You can tell Horropedia is eagerly waiting for your decision with bated breath. Finally you pull yourself out of the hug.

Only to grab your purse and keys, then quickly come back to his side.

"Alright. You win, what's the plan now?" You ask, twisting a scarf high around your neck to hide your excitement.

He frowns slightly, and hesitantly asks. "Do you still suffer from insomnia?"

Of course he remembers. "It's better now but yes." Is your answer.

"Then we go on the most anti-insomnia date to help you sleep!" He announces, opening the door for you.

You chuckle and head out, waiting for him to follow so you can lock your office.

"And where are we going?" You fiddle with your keys, slipping one in the lock.

"To your dorm room?" He asks more then answers.

You freeze. "Moving a little fast there don't you think?" You turn to face him.

He flushes bright red. "Noooo!! I knew you would misunderstand!!! I meant because your bed is there and you could go straight to sleep once you feel like it!!!"

You giggle. "Oh I know, just teasing." You say wiggling your eyebrows.

He gasps "You! I! Why you! Hmph!" He turns and walks on ahead, but there's a spring in his step and he's headed towards your dorm, so you know he's not actually mad. You jog to catch up to him.

"Geez Joshua, not all of us have long legs wait up!"

And he does slow down, but he also throws you a question. "Why do you keep calling me Joshua? At first I thought it was to annoy me, but that can't be right. So what's your reason?"

You consider this carefully. After everything that just happened, admitting this truth hardly feels like such a hard challenge. You talk as you walk.

"More than one reason I guess... For starters it's what I've always known you as... Despite what I said before, you actually have changed in a lot of ways, heck you used to be shorter than me." You laugh a bit, "The name feels like all I have left from back then." You say with a sigh.

He keeps silent, probably guessing there's more, so you continue, "Also... Well, this is a bit embarrassing but everyone calls you Horropedia... I guess I kinda felt special by being the only one calling you Joshua. It's silly I know."

Horropedia stops walking and grabs your hand, halting you too. He's silent for a moment before he croaks out, voice clearly emotional "You can call me whatever you want." Then he goes back to walking while still holding onto your hand, pulling you along. And that's that.

He walks you all the way to your dorm room then stops.

"You're not coming in? You didn't change your mind already did you?" You ask half jokingly but also kinda worried.

"Nope! I'll go bring my tv and some supplies, I'll be back in an hour or so, that way you'll have time to freshen up and maybe relax for a bit?" He says with a small smile, and ruffles your hair lightly.

You blink, then processing the first part of his sentence you ask: "Why are you bringing your TV? I have a TV."

"You do?" He sounds surprised.

"Of course, how else would I be able to play my romance film tapes?"

His mouth forms an "o" shape. "That actually makes sense, I don't know why I didn't think of that. Well there's still other stuff to be brought but this definitely helps save time, alright see you soon." He gives you a quick hug before parting ways.

Now home, you proceed to tidy up the dorm room and hop in the shower, then get dressed in a comfortable but cute outfit and style your hair into something more relaxed and comfy.

You head to your wardrobe and start opening the large bottom drawers you use to store blankets and pillows, and start constructing a pillow fort on the rug, facing the television.

It's not long until you hear a knock at your door, and with less restraint then you would usually allow, you rush towards it and swing it wide open to reveal a-

A pile of shopping bags and a plushie?

"A lil help here? Actually can you let me in?" You hear Horropedia's voice as he tries to right one of the bags sliding down with his knee.

"Ohhhh!" You intone, mesmerized, "A talking pile of bags and a plushie!"

"Haha, very funny." Horropedia's head pops up and despite his words he's definitely amused.

You quickly begin grabbing the bags closest to you and realize they're pretty much all filled with snacks and fizzy drinks... All of which you know for sure are nothing like those issued by the foundation.

"Where did you even get these?" You ask, as the both of you drag the bags inside. From the corner of your eyes you notice him taking extra care not to drop the relatively large plushie.

"Oh you know, I have my ways~" He replies, going for a mysterious tone.

Do his "ways" include Vertin's suitcase? Probably. But you don't say anything, let him have his moment.

When everything is set up nicely around your pillow fort, you turn to ask him what you're watching when you find him on one knee, dramatically presenting you with the stuffed toy.

"Will you do me the great honor, of accepting my humble offering?" He asks solemnly.

You burst out laughing "Wha- what are you doing..?" You wheeze.

You bend down to grab the plushie and admire it, it's a nice medium size, aka the perfect hugging size.

"I thought you might need a little friend to keep you company as we watch-" He takes out a film tape with a flourish "This movie!"

You blanch. "Is this one of your horror films? Are you serious? I thought we were trying to put me to sleep not keep me up all night." You say with an exasperated shake of your head.

"No no listen, you're used to romance movies, they're no good to help you sleep anymore or they would've worked by now right? Maybe what you need is something to wring out all the nervous energy from you so you can relax!"

Somehow that both makes some sense and no sense at once. But then you have a realization.

You pretend to think it over. "I don't know, even if what you say could hypothetically work, and while your gift is cute, I just don't feel like it's huggable enough, you know?"

His face falls slightly. "Oh? You don't like it do you? I knew I should've brought a bigger one-"

"No, what I'm saying is, it's not the same as cuddling with a warm human being."

You wait for the mostly genius yet sometimes dumb dumb young man in front of you to connect the dots. You can tell he did when his face is the shade of a ripe strawberry.

"OH! Ohhhh!! Oh. Yeah, yeah we can definitely uh- cuddle. As much as you want. Of course."

You laugh "Dude we were just hugging and kissing in my office! Why are you getting all shy on me now?" You tug him along by the arm to set up the film.

"I knoooow," he whines, "it's just this is a step further ok? And that was an I'm-really-worried-about-her hug, and the kiss was a very emotional moment my brain just wasn't braining!"

"Whatever you say." You reply as you poke his right cheek. "You're cute though so it's fine." You giggle.

You wait for him to berate you about calling him, the horror genre enthusiast and connoisseur "cute", but all he does is stare at you with a dopey smile, just making you melt.

"Are you sure we can't just watch a romance movie?" You ask softly.

"Nah, we're being our own romance movie right now." He says as he grabs your hand and hoists you up with him, leading you back to the pillow fort. "You'll pick the movie next time."

The screen turns on, displaying the title of the horror movie you settled on. “It’s a classic!” Horropedia says, clearly excited to share the movie with you.

As you both sink into the pillows, the opening title sequence of the film begins playing.

As the horror style music plays, you notice Horropedia lean in his body closer to yours, careful to not make it seem like he was trying to get nearer.

"You can come closer I don't bite," you say jokingly, "and if I was uncomfortable with having you here I wouldn't have mentioned cuddling in the first place."

Horropedia's face turns fully red as he realizes he was not being subtle.

"Yeah... sorry."

His body shifts, and he slides one arm around your shoulders. He then speaks, barely above a whisper, "Can I get a hug now...?"

"I didn't know you were the clingy type Joshua," you start to tease, "and before even the first jumpscare hap-" but you immediately get interrupted by a joke jumpscare, a character that is not the antagonist innocently scaring their friends as a prank, yet embarrassingly managing to startle you "Eeep-" your hands instinctively grab onto the nearest object, which of course has to be his torso.

Oh dear lord. You sigh internally.

You look up at his face, finding he at least has the decency to try and stifle his laughter, though he wasn't succeeding much. But his droopy eyes were crinkling at the sides, and his smile was just too beautiful so you couldn't get mad.

Horropedia chuckles at your expression, probably finding the irony amusing, and the fact it was a fake jumpscare that did you in.

He then quickly pulls you closer to give you that hug you were just teasing him about not a moment ago.

You feel your head lean against his shoulder as he pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you as you both settle further into your cozy pillow fort setup.

"This doesn't count you hear? I wasn't scared or anything, I'm just a bit jumpy." You say, trying to preserve your dignity. The last thing you need is the no.1 horror enthusiast to misunderstand and think you're a scaredy cat, you would never hear the end of the teasing.

You could feel his chest vibrating with laughter underneath you, and he reaches up with the opposite hand and ruffles your hair.

"Uh-huh." Is all he says.

~~~~~~

By the time the movie ends, you're already sound asleep. Horropedia carefully untangles your limbs and carries you off to bed. The day did not go as he'd expected, he'd go as far to say it went more like his fantasies then actual reality.

He tucks you in carefully, being mindful to jostle you as little as possible. He's fairly certain if you go on a second date (you probably will right? This date went great right?!?!) you won't settle for anything other than one of your romance movies.

Not that he minds, really. After today he doesn't think he'll be looking at the characters on the screen with jealousy or disgruntlement. He also thinks he'll enjoy whatever you pick.

He glances at your alarm clock. Oh it was late. He'd better get moving, while he has more freedom under Vertin's supervision now he still shouldn't push his luck. He decides he'll tell you tomorrow about his new, more flexible work arrangement.

He heads for the dorm room entrance, opening and closing the door softly behind him. His last thought before leaving is he'll have to ask what you thought of his movie pick tomorrow.

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

From the river to the sea PALESTINE WILL BE FREE ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸.

If you pray, please pray for Gaza and the Westbank 🙏🏻🙏🏻

#r1999 #reverse 1999 #gacha games #fanfic #horropedia #joshua #horropedia x reader #Horropedia x y/n #Horropedia x You

[kira-fluff]

i hate you (but i'm lying) kuroo tetsuro x f!reader

"i'm going to get promoted, and then i'll be your boss." "not if i get you fired first." kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader | "enemies" to lovers -> coworkers!au, timeskip!kuroo tw: language

you're stuck with the worst supervisor ever. sure, he's good at his job and he's actually a pretty good leader, too. the problem is, the fucker takes any chance he can get to make fun of you. he particularly enjoys mentioning the fact that he is your direct superior, though thankfully he's not your boss (despite the bullshit he always tells you).

you

you had always made an effort to show up early to your job, and if not early, then right on time. in high school, you had a nasty habit of showing up late every morning to your class. so, you swore you'd work your ass off to break the habit and so far you were successful. there was only one time you showed up late, and that was because nothing seemed to go right that morning. you didn't hear your alarm go off so you rushed to get ready in ten minutes, one of the heels in your pair completely broke off, making you rush to go grab another pair, the traffic was horrible on the way to work, you stepped in a puddle on your way in, and the elevator took at least five minute to finally come to the first floor. needless to say, you'd gotten off on the wrong foot that morning (literally). as you stepped in the office, sweating profusely and red in the cheeks from sprinting in heels to the door, you were praising every deity to exist that no one had noticed. until kuroo suddenly showed up, coming out of his office with his arms crossed over his annoyingly muscular chest (i mean seriously, buy bigger shirts, dude! those buttons are hanging on for dear life.) "well, well, well. look who finally showed up." you gave him a deadpan glare and said, "shut the fuck up, kuroo." he tsked, "that's not the way you talk to your boss." you rolled your eyes, "you're not my boss. you're just my supervisor." he smirked, the way he always does, and answered, "you're right. i'm your supervisor. and my job is to delegate." you rose a brow as he went over to his desk, and brought a stack of papers, plopping them into your hands. "now be a good little secretary and bring this to my boss." you gritted your teeth, "i'm not a secretary you sexist piece of shit. i'm an office worker with the same position as all of these men here." kuroo leaned down, so close to your face you could smell the mint on his breath, "right, like all the men here, except me." he leaned back from bending down to your height and winked, "i'll see you in a bit after you drop those off for me." you let out a huff of indignation, but you didn't have the energy to argue with him after the shitty start your morning had already began.

somewhere along the way, your eye rolls turned into smirking grins, equally torturing him with quips and digging nicknames. he didn't mind though, in fact, you noticed that instead of doing his work every morning, he'd lean against your desk and chat with you (and insult you lightly, of course). "can you move your ginormous body? you're taking up all the space on my desk." "i think you mean gorgeous physique." you grinned, "whatever makes you feel better, slave driver." he faked a hurt expression and said, "hey, you guys are all getting paid! no slaves here." you leaned your head back to look at his face, matching his direct eye contact, "then why am i constantly tortured by you?" he smirked again. "hey, remember, my job is to delegate." you scoffed. "that's just your way of saying you're pawning off all your work onto me. just you wait, i'll get promoted for busting my ass, and the first thing i'll do is fire you." "the boss is talking about giving me a managerial position. better watch for your own job first." you blanched. "wait, really?" he pursed his lips to hold back his laugh, "nah, i'm just fucking with you." you squinted your eyes and your cheeks widened into a wicked smile. "i bet you'd like that, wouldn't you, tetsuro?" to your surprise, his throat bobbed, his eyes widening. his words came out in a choke, "...that's a new one." one more win for you. or at least you thought so. you noticed a little while after he was acting kind of weird around you. he'd still lean against your desk and talk with you, but sometimes you'd catch him staring a little bit too long. when you had a question about some formatting of a document on the computer, he practically took up all your personal space as he leaned in close, nearly enveloping you in a hug behind you as he reached over your body to grab your mouse and click around to show you. you'd made the mistake of taking a strong whiff of his perfume...which smelled like the best thing on earth. one day you'd been a little shy, but decided to work up the courage to wear a short little pencil skirt to work. a small slit rode up your thigh, leaving very little up for imagination. your were expecting some kind of insult about how you looked like some kind of roleplaying stripper or something, but instead, you were met with a speechless kuroo. his eyes kept flitting to your skirt, then back at your eyes, which, by the way, his eyes were big as saucers. it was strange, but you wrote it off as him just having a rough morning or something. your suspicion was further proved correct when he didn't come over like normal and lean against your desk. instead, he stayed holed up in his office, probably making calls. when you'd come in to ask him a question regarding some of the sales department's statistics, he seemed to be so busy he didn't look away from his papers. when you moved closer, his eyes were forced to look up at you, and when they did, he swallowed thickly. maybe he's not feeling well today, you thought. you walked around the desk and up to his chair. leaning on leg against his seat, centimeters away from his thighs, you put a hand on his forehead. he took in a sharp breath, turning his head away from you. "hey, are you feeling sick or something? you're barely looking at me today and you haven't even stopped by my desk to bother me. are you swamped with work? make sure you're taking care of yourself, too, okay?"

kuroo

fuck. she is way too close. his face flushed, hopefully not discernable to your clueless eye. he'd tried all morning not to stare at your ass and yet here you were, airheaded as ever, with your short skirt and thighs - oh god, your thighs - practically sitting on top of his own. he turned his head away, because jesus, how clueless are you? your tits are level with his face, damn it, he could see the color of your bra though your thin white shirt. stop it. don't go there. that's the last thing we need. his breath was becoming short, coming out in light pants that he prayed you didn't notice. would she notice if he crossed his legs? it's getting harder (literally) to hide himself. he inwardly sighed. you always seemed to miss his clearly obvious signals that he was falling for you. let's face it, he already has. he remembers your first day, when you showed up, bowing to him with your big, happy, smile. when you smiled, truly smiled, it felt like you were sunshine in human form. god, you're so beautiful. his boss was always giving him shit for it. it seemed everyone in the office knew he was head over heels for you, except you. his thoughts were interrupted when you suddenly stopped, turning your head so you could face him directly, inches away from your lips touching. he couldn't stop himself from looking down at them, which was a huge mistake. you looked at him, a small bit of worry across your face. "...tetsuro...?" (he loved it when you called him by his first name). "are you... mad at me?" he rose a brow. "no..? what made you think i was?" you frowned, "well, sometimes i think you might hate me." his browns narrowed. "i'm flirting with you, you moron." your eyes widened and your face turned bright red. you spoke in a whisper, "oh." his eyes moved down to your lips again and then back up at your eyes, a question in them that was so obvious to you now that you didn't even have to nod. your lips crashed into his, and damn if he didn't feel like he died and went to heaven. or was dreaming, for that matter. god only knows how many nights he was woken up with images of you kissing him or looking at him with the eyes yours sometimes made that gave him a bit of hope that you felt the same way. he felt punished by the dreams where you not only loved him with your amazing personality, but pleased him with your body as well. he swiped his tongue against your lips, earning a gasp from you that not only made him smirk, but gave him entrance into your mouth. you let out a little moan that drove him crazy. his hands wrapped around your waist as he hoisted you up onto his lap. you couldn't help grinding against him, and feeling his hardness beneath you. finally, your lips parted. you both gasped for breaths, looking into each others eyes with equally dilated pupils. he looked down at your lips before saying, "are you free tonight?" you smirked, "i think i can check and see if i can fit you into my schedule. you know how busy i am." he shook his head, smiling. "pick you up at 8?" you nodded, "i'll text you my address." as you leaned in for another hungry kiss.

and so did you ever hate each other? no. but it's more fun to pretend you do, no?

a/n: i LOVED this idea and i lowkey wrote it based lightly off of a relationship i have between a coworker (obviously not this romantic though, lol, we're just buds). i hope you like it!

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #hq x you #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! #kuroo headcanons #kuroo imagine

[void-ink-studios]

The Higher Ups in Wrath of the Wishmaster

So, just wanted to dump my brain worms here, and talk about the OC gods that just got introduced in the 3 part instalment of Wrath of the Wishmaster that I posted.

I'd like to introduce the Higher Ups. They're basically the upper management of the pantheon, only answering to The Boss themselves. Their power and rulings override pretty much everyone else, unless the Boss intervenes. They cannot be removed from reality, stripped of their titles, demoted, or even harmed.

You've already met one, the Organizer but there's two others: the Observer and the Judge! So, let's go through their deal one by one.

The Organizer

Let's start with the one y'all have officially met, the Organizer. As the name would imply, she is the goddess in charge of the organization, planning, and paperwork of the entire pantheon. She's the one to deal with write ups, complaints, requests, and record keeping. She has a file on pretty much everything to have ever lived in the multiverse, all perfectly sorted in an infinite records room. She's always super busy. She's also Orbo's direct supervisor, and by extension Scarab's. She's the one who sends the official orders for Auditors to go after rule breakers.

The Observer

The Observer is a rarely seen god, but he works closely with the Organizer. He is in charge of overseeing all activity across the multiverse, particularly with anyone powerful enough to jump between universes, and the other gods. He has seen everything that has ever happened (and rumor says ever will happen) in the multiverse. He hands off this information to the Organizer for storage, and is the primary source of information for sentencing cosmic crimes. He also is the one to confirm or reject complaints and write ups from the Organizer. He commands any and all gods responsible for gathering information within the cosmos.

The Judge

The Judge is the main authority of what is and isn't a cosmic crime. It is them who decides what punishments are delivered to what write ups, who does and does not belong in the Citadel, and is the one to mark individuals as cosmic threats. If someone is marked a target, the information is given to the Organizer to then give the order to Auditors. Of the higher ups, they're the one most often seen, both by mortals and by other gods. It is them you must plead your case to if you're demanding help or mercy from the gods. Unless the Boss intervenes, the Judge can grant or strip any of the lesser gods their title and immortality. They ultimately created the Citadel and the guardians. Not surprisingly, they were a bit salty after the whole Lich fiasco.

Other notes:

Some gods don't directly answer to one of these three. Gods like Prismo and the Cosmic Owl pretty much only answer to the Boss, as it's their power they're tapping into to grant wishes and make dreams prophetic.

All three of the Higher Ups are able to pass down punishment to gods if the transgression is not considered serious. For example, in the last part of Gala of the Gods, if Prismo and Scarab actually did major damage to the Judgement Hall, the Organizer would be sending them straight to the Judge.

Someone on AO3 suggested it and I liked it a lot so I'm including it: The Organizer was kind of Scarab's mentor figure. She was pretty much the only god he really spoke to as he transitioned from mortal to immortal. They stopped talking after Scarab lost his bid for Wishmaster to Prismo. He kind of blamed her for making him think he had a chance when literally everyone else was telling him to not even bother. More on that relationship in the next chapter.

The Observer is terrifying. No one but other Higher Ups talks to the Observer. Even other gods risk going mad by looking upon him.

The Judge is so tired of everyone's bullshit. So is the Organizer tbh. Get them some coffee, dammit.

Golb/Golbetty can technically be considered a Higher Up since their power overrides Prismo's, but Golb is kind of seperate from the cosmic hierarchy. They're a chaotic nightmare, on the same level as the Higher Ups, but not technically one of them.

#prohibitedwish #wrath of the wishmaster #scarab the god auditor #prismo the wishmaster #worldbuilding nonsense: GO!

[octuscle]

Hey dude, do you possibly have any suitcases for Johannesburg? I’m there for work cause my employer owns a stake in a gold mine but I can’t find my luggage and I’m meeting with the mine supervisor soon. If you have one it would be appreciated.

In fact, I would have a suitcase. I can make it available to you with pleasure. At first sight it looks very suitable. Suits, shirts… Just what you need. Okay, already at first sight the suits are a bit too fashionable for you… You prefer rather classic dark blue. But what should you do? You need something to wear. But as you look at yourself in your bathroom mirror in the hotel room, you wonder if you shouldn't go naked. The suit is three sizes too big for you. And still too tight at the hips. Who should wear something like that? You have no time to think or change anything. You grab your laptop bag and head out.

In the elevator you have to loosen your tie knot a bit. It was probably tied too tightly. You look really silly. But at least you seem to have gotten a little color in the few hours you've been here. But maybe it's the tinted mirror in the elevator.

On your way through the hotel lobby to the exit, you feel the pants adjusting to your body. Or vice versa. Very strange… In any case, the pants are no longer tight on your stomach. And the legs are no longer too long. As you step out of the cool lobby onto the street, the warmth hits you like a blow. You wipe your forehead with your hand. And over your head. There is no hair! Your head is bald. But you seem to have grown a beard. The doorman calls a cab. You get in and tell the driver your destination. You are a bit frightened by your voice. A huge bass fills the interior of the cab. The driver turns to you and says that he would normally only drive fucking white people to this address. It would be nice to be able to drive a tie-wearing bruh.

You have no idea what the brother is talking about. You look again at the agenda of the appointment on your cell phone. And search LinkedIn for the supervisor's profile. A white guy with a Dutch-sounding name. Sure, like all the managers here. The driver keeps pulling you out of your thoughts and asking you questions about soccer and rugby. At first you are annoyed, because you actually wanted to prepare for the meeting again. But after a few minutes you are in a passionate discussion. Rugby is more your sport than soccer. The driver says that he is not surprised. You look like a professional rugby player yourself. You laugh boisterously. And you flex your biceps. But not too hard, so as not to burst your sleeves. And as a farewell, you give a generous tip.

The technology at your Johannesburg branch works perfectly. You get into the building with your door card without any problems. The iris scan in the elevator recognizes you immediately and automatically takes you to the right floor. There, a pretty hot fellow is waiting for you and asks you to follow him into the meeting room. Cute little white ass… You wonder if it would hold out to be fucked by you. In the conference room he asks you if he could bring you a coffee. Yes please, you answer. Black. Like you. He grins. And licks his lips. You slide him your business card. He should get in touch.

There's nothing better than appointments where your conversation partner feels superior until he sees you. You are a colossus. With excellent taste and polished manners. And a razor-sharp mind. It only takes you a few minutes to tear the supervisor's report apart. You're already looking forward to the audit. The main thing is that you get that cute ass as an assistant.

Perfectly fitting pic found at @seasoned-men-of-color

#male tf #muscle tf #male transformation #race change #muscle transformation

[tired-teacher-blog]

Hello! I’ve been following for while now and I absolutely love all of your work. This is the first time I’m requesting something.... My idea is something sweet, I love Tokoyami so if you don’t find him weird can I have him with reader who’s his secret admirer? She writes him poems from time to time until she gain the courage to confess giving him flowers? I want to make him feel loved

Hi sweetie ❤️ thank you so much for reading and loving my work! It means more than you know, I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting though, I really am 🥲 this is the first time doing something for my sweet Tokoyami and I wanted to do it right for him and for you, that's why I kept writing and rewriting. I apologize and I hope it doesn't stop you from requesting again ❤️

Anyway, I really hope you enjoy it *kisses*

Title : Secret admirer

Characters : Tokoyami/ Gender neutral reader

Genre : Angst/ Fluff (mostly fluff)

Masterlist|Second Masterlist

Another one? This is weird, flattering, but weird.

Fumikage Tokoyami is not really used to having admirers, let alone ones who would send him letters or write him poems. So when he had received his first one he was genuinely confused, and thought it was probably a mistake.. if not a prank. But they kept coming on a regular basis, so maybe, just maybe, it wasn't a mistake.

It was still strange, who would possibly waste their precious time to send him letters after letters filled with words of praise and admiration accompanied by beautifully written poems? He couldn't tell. But even if it turned out to be a prank, he would still be grateful since someone actually cared enough to invest their time and energy in doing it. That's what he kept thinking.

What he failed to realize though, is that it was never a mistake, nor was it a prank.

What he failed to see was the way your cheeks flushed and your heart hammered in your chest everytime he passed you by.

You liked him so much, and had plenty of chances to confess, but never the courage to let him know.

You're shy and awkward, same as him, and that was part of why you kept your feelings a secret for so long. Besides, you two have been friends for years, and you feared losing him in case he didn't feel the same way about you, so you settled for being his good friend.

_ "Look I found another one, can you believe it?!" He shook his head in disbelief as he finally joined you for lunch.

_ "Oh, yeah?.. well, apparently someone truly likes you," you responded aloofly making sure to keep your focus solely on the food placed in front of you, "hey lunch break is almost over and our patrol is scheduled right after, so hurry up and eat." you had to change the subject.

Will you ever be able to tell him the truth? For a long while, that was the only question you had no answer to.

Until one day..

_ "Hi y/n, are you ready for the morning assembly?" you had just gotten into your costume and was waiting to receive your orders of the day when he joined you.

_ "Oh, hi.. umm.. yeah I'm ready." you didn't mean to sound flustered, but for some reason you couldn't control your reactions around him.

The meeting went by in a blur, and you couldn't for the life of you focus on any of the instructions given.

"I'm going to make a mess today, I can already feel it." is what you kept thinking to yourself.

And you were right, nothing went according to the orders you were given.

_ "Heads up y/n! What the hell are you doing?" your supervisor wasn't happy at all.

_ "I'm sorry! I'm on it!"

From the corner of your eye, you were able to see Tokoyami eying you anxiously, he was aware of your distress but couldn't understand its reason, so you had to get it together first and leave everything else for later..

_ "Y/n, can I talk to you for a minute?" he approached you, eyes filled with unanswered questions.

You had just changed out of your costume and was about to head home and try to forget everything that happened earlier, but his sudden appearance changed your plans.

_ "What.. yeah, sure. Do you want to head to the cafeteria?"

_ "Let's just leave, I'll walk you home and talk on the way."

You nodded and left the agency side by side with him.

Numerous thoughts had battled inside your head, what did he want from you? Did he find out about your secret crush on him? Did he want to scold you for messing up earlier? Or maybe it was none of that. Whatever it was, you wanted to hear it and get it over with.

_ "So, what is it Fumikage?" you tried to play it cool, offering him a smile as you asked.

_ "Are you feeling alright?" his tone was gentle, as usual, "you were distracted today and I was really worried."

Your eyes widened and your heartbeat quickened as his words sunk in. He was worried about you.

Should you get your hopes up? Obviously none of it would mean anything if you don't gather your courage to confess your feelings.

_ "I'm fine Fumikage I promise, thank you for checking in on me." you took a deep breath and looked away from him before asking, "so, have you received any new letters?" you obviously knew the answer to your own question but you couldn't find any other way to bring up the subject.

_ "Oh, yeah, they're coming in as usual." he responded awkwardly, looking down at his feet.

You felt a little bolder so you decided to go a bit further, "what if one day you find out their identity? Or better yet, what if they finally decide to confess their love properly?"

_ "That's never going to happen." he sounded unusually stern, but there was a hint of something else that you couldn't quite understand, "I still don't think it's real." was he hurt? Disappointed? Both? Whatever it was, you hated it.

You wanted to let him know the truth more than anything else: "Fumikage.."

_ "Yeah?"

_ ".. No, never mind." you were still not confident enough for such a huge step, and telling him something important so casually like you were about to didn't seem right.

_ "It's fine you can tell me anything." his voice was warm like it's always been when addressing you. What more did you need?

_ "It was me.. the one who keeps sending you letters, that's me." you were a bundle of nerves as you finally confessed your biggest secret.

_ "Was it fun for you?" his tone had changed, "did you have a good laugh?"

What was happening? "Fumikage.."

_ "No no, that's fine, I was right after all." he raised his arms defensively and took a step back, "it was a prank, that's what friends do to each other right?"

You opened your mouth to explain yourself but it was too late, he turned around and walked away already, leaving you all alone..

Why did he react the way he did? Why did he misunderstand you?

You wanted to follow him but your body was stiff and your vision was blurry. You couldn't even tell when your tears started falling..

Things changed ever since that evening. He started avoiding you, not even a greeting or a polite head bow. You wanted to talk to him, to tell him that you were serious but he gave you no chance to do so.

You hated losing him so easily, if he didn't return your feelings, than you were to be content with your life long friendship. If only he would give you a chance to explain yourself.

_ "Oh, hi. What are you doing here?" he was startled as he found you outside his appartement one evening.

_ "Can we talk please?" you stood nervously half expecting him to shut the door on your face, but he didn't. His eyes traveled down to the cute little flower bouquet you held in your hands.

_ "Yeah sure." he stepped aside allowing you to walk in.

_ "This is for you by the way, a peace offering." you handed him the bouquet as soon as he closed the door behind you two.

_ "Thank you, but you didn't have to do any of this." he declared, placing it on the dining room table.

_ "Yes I did! This is the least I can do after hurting you that day! But please allow me to explain, it's really not what you think." you were desperate.

He looked at you for a moment but said nothing, and simply gestured you to carry on.

_ "I truly like you, not just as a friend but so much more", you took a few steps towards him as you decided to keep nothing in, "the reason why I haven't told you for so long was because I was.. scared." your voice trailed off and your eyes traveled down to your feet.

_ "Scared? Why would you be?"

_ "It's because I wasn't sure of how you would react, I honestly didn't want to lose my best friend, but I'm afraid I already have." you wanted to cry at that point, but forced your tears back before he took notice.

_ "I feel like an idiot." he chuckled nervously, "I was a jerk to you and didn't take your confession seriously, I'm really sorry for the way I acted."

Your face finally lit up after days of suffering, but for some reason you could no longer hold your tears back.

It was at that moment that he realized how serious you were about him.

_ "So, do you want to go out on a date with me? Say, tomorrow after work?" he cautiously requested, as he gently wiped your tears away.

_ "Ye.. yes, yes I do." it was the last thing you expected to hear him say. But not only did you have your best friend back, you also had a chance to go on a date with him. You were the happiest person alive.

What you failed to realize though, was that your feelings have always been mutual. And at that moment, he too was as happy as you were.

#fumikage tokoyami #tokoyami fumikage x reader #tokoyami x reader #tokoyami x y/n #tokoyami x you #tokoyami fluff #fumikage tokoyami x reader #Fumikage Tokoyami imagine #Fumikage Tokoyami one shot #my hero academia headcanons #boku no hero headcanons #boku no hero fanfic #my hero academia fanfic #my hero academia fluff #boku no hero fic #my hero academia imagines #my hero academia fic #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero academia imagines #bnha fanfiction #bnha fluff #bnha tokoyami #mha fanfiction #mha imagines #mha fluff #mha fumikage #bnha imagines

[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

[papyrus-in-practice]

Hey, y’all! I wanted to give an update on Papyrus in Practice and other related stuff.

“It’s been about a year, where’s the next page!?”

Wow, when I saw it’s actually been a year, I kind of blanched a bit. I didn’t mean for the hiatus to last that long. Next page is actually done. In fact, a couple of pages are either done or close to done. I’m trying to build up a big buffer so that, hopefully, there will be a smaller gap between updates in the future. My plan is to have eight pages completed, line art for four pages done, have the script for the next scene done, and have a couple of pages worth of sketches ready. As I’m typing this, six of the eight next pages are done with the remaining ones in various stages of completion and two of the four next pages have finished line art. I’ve been working and reworking and re-reworking the script for the final scene for the past twenty months and honestly frustrated in how to wrap up the chapter in a satisfying way that won’t make me stuck on chapter 4 for another two years because the climax and conclusion is so long. So, that’s where I’m at now.

“I wrote something in the ask blog and didn’t get a response.”

I read every comment and every ask sent to me and, most likely, have at least attempted to write a script to answer it. But, I gotta weigh my options. Do I answer it at risk of delaying Papyrus in Practice for another month or focus on the comic? Depending on how elaborate the answer is, it might take a while to make a response. There are also things I just don’t know how to answer to and, believe me, I’ve tried coming up with a good answer, but I’m also still learning about life myself and I’ve found that, sometimes, my answer to a question has changed a lot over time. Sometimes, I’m afraid of saying something that’s ultimately harmful. It’s a tricky balance. At the end of the day, I've never guaranteed a response to any ask and never will guarantee a response. There are still some asks that I'd like to get around to, maybe if chapter 4 finishes or I get burnt out while making it and need a change of pace.

“Are you actually a therapist?”

Yup. I just graduated this past May with a masters in art therapy counseling. My title right now is a qualified mental health professional or QMHP. I’m waiting to take the National Counselor’s Exam to obtain my LPC but government paperwork is a looooong process(seriously, some of my colleagues have been waiting in the queue for over a year to get their LCPC). In the meantime, I can still practice as a therapist as long as I check in with a supervisor and have been practicing and slowly building my caseload for the past couple of months.

“Can you be my therapist/give therapy to this person?”

The short answer is no. The long answer is that there are a lot of ethical concerns when it comes to providing mental healthcare and breaching ethical guidelines could impede therapy progress, bring potential harm to the client, myself, or I could get in big legal trouble. I can also only practice if the client is located in my home state and goes through the company I work for since I need supervision to practice. However, I’d be happy to provide resources like websites that help you find a therapist, even for a reduced price, or self-help sites that can help you learn skills and develop tools to use that can boost your mental well-being. I cannot, however, provide mental health services.

“Will (insert character’s name) meet with Papyrus?”

Maybe. I’ve got ideas for characters in mind, but it’s more a question of how much longer I want to be doing this for. I’ll be honest with y’all, I’m getting burnt out. I want to do different projects or even revisit older projects, but I tell myself I can’t do that until I finish Papyrus in Practice or, at the very least, finish chapter 4. I didn’t think this chapter would go on for as long as it has, but it also makes sense. We’ve already hit page 25 which is almost as long as the entirety of chapter 3 and I don’t even know if we’re halfway done with the chapter yet. The way it’s looking, chapter 4 may easily hit at least 50 pages.

“So, when will you be posting again?”

Soon! Hopefully, before the end of the year. When I start updating again, I’ll be posting one page every other week which gives at least a few months of content for y’all.

That being said, I’ll see you soon!

-Meemie

#papyrus in practice #update

[stevesxyellowxsweater]

Stay

PAIRING: Jim Hopper x gn!reader WC: 1200+ CW: MINORS DON'T INTERACT!! Swearing, jealousy, implied sex, reader is an fbi agent, unedited work. SUMMARY: You're sent to Hawkins to find out about the disappearance of Barbara Holland and Will Byers' death and resurrection. You find yourself hitting it off with the police chief, but it seems he's only interested in a one time thing. AUTHOR NOTES: This is just a simple bit of fluffy angst that I've been thinking about, it's unedited so please ignore mistakes. First time writing Hopper so enjoy.

Jim Hopper was a stubborn guy, it was a fact you knew all too well from the moment you became friends with the guy. You'd been in town looking into what had been happening with these disappearances and Jesus like comeback of Will Byers. The FBI had become very interested and sent you to investigate. Hawkins wasn't somewhere you'd expected to be, yet you found yourself there.

You'd sat in Hopper's office, the pair of you trying to be more stubborn than the other. You refusing to believe his answers and him trying hard to dodge your questions or giving you a pack of lies. He'd finally given up and sighed.

“We've been at this all day, can I buy you a beer?”

“That's the smartest thing you've said all day.”

That was how the friendship started, you sat in the bar together that night discussing your love for old westerns. Talking about his divorce and about your separation from your high school sweetheart, you discussed law enforcement, and when the night came to an end you both ended up in your hotel room making the beast with two backs.

Of course your supervisor was less than happy when you called the next day to report that you learnt nothing. Orders to stay there till you did were made very clearly and you found yourself stuck in Hawkins trying to interview everyone that seemed to be connected to Will Byers and Barbra Holland.

Since that night with Jim though, he became increasingly distant, always making up excuses so you couldn't talk to him, always saying he had things to do. 

He'd been dodging you for nearly a week when you discovered that the reason he was blowing you off constantly was because of Joyce Byers, you couldn't help but feel a twang of jealousy each and every time you heard her name, or saw her. 

They were close, maybe closer than close. All you knew was that you and Hopper were now one and done. Especially while Joyce was around.

You began to become frustrated, all the time you found yourself stuck in this stupid town, wanting to go back home. Whenever you went into Melvald’s and Hopper was there talking to Joyce you became increasingly irritated and eventually started to ignore them. Throwing down your stuff, paying for it without a word and leaving. 

It had been about four times that you'd done this when Hopper finally had enough and came out after you.

“Don't you think you're being a little childish?”

“Oh I'm being childish am I? Says the guy who has been avoiding me for nearly two months. I've been stuck here, which is your fault by the way!” 

“How exactly is it my fault that you keep reaching dead ends?”

“Because you won't talk to me! I need to finish my damn interview with you, but you're acting as if I'm going to jump on you if we do!”

“I've been busy.” 

“So I noticed Jim.” 

There was a bitterness to your tone as you looked at him, unimpressed and unhappy.

“Tomorrow, I will be at your office first thing so I can get this shit over with and leave this Damn town!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” 

You stared at each other for a moment before storming away in different directions. Joyce stood inside the shop smirking as she watched you two.

“What was that about?” 

Bob asked, stepping inside and looking at Joyce.

“Young love.” 

Everything over the last two months had brought you to this moment, standing outside his cabin. You'd walked into the office bright and early to find he wasn't coming in today. Anger and annoyance bubbled inside you. You  stormed out, got in your car and drove to his place.

“Hopper!”

You'd wanted to be calm and collected, but the moment your knuckles touched the door you banged loudly and angrily.

“Open the damn door now!” 

You yelled through the wooden door.

“I know you're in there, this isn't funny. Open up now!”

The door opened and you stormed inside, you didn't even bother to look at him. 

“It's one thing keeping whatever happened here a secret. But keeping me here when you know I can't leave without some sort of report from you isn't fair!” 

You turned to look at him, his nose was red, his eyes glassy, and he had some sort of ugly blanket wrapped around his body keeping his chest warm. 

“Your sick.” 

“That right there is why you're in the FBI, so smart.” 

His voice was croaky and dripping with sarcasm, you couldn't help but find it hot even though he was very sick.

“Can you get out, I'll give you a report when I'm better.”

The door slammed practically in your face as he ushered you out, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you stood there. 

You couldn't deny the way your heart fluttered every time you were near him, couldn't deny that you enjoyed his scent, or the way he made butterflies flutter in your stomach. 

“Damn you Hopper.”

You left, only to come back armed with cold and flu medicines, vapor rub, soup, and a few other things to make him feel better. The look on his face had been a picture, shock and confusion as you pushed inside and placed down the cold and flu tabs. The Vapour rub, and everything else. 

“Take those, I'll get you some soup.” 

He stared for a minute or two, before he did as he was told. It had been a long time since Jim had been looked after when he was sick. Every single stubborn bone inside told him to tell you to go, but as he watched you he couldn't deny how badly he was enjoying watching you in his kitchen.

Placing down the soup as well as some fresh bread, you looked at him and smiled.

“You should eat up and then you should rest.”

There was an awkward air between the two of you as you stood there, he sat up and nodded only letting out a grunt before tucking into the soup.

“Feel better Jim.” 

Picking up your bag, you headed toward the door.

“Stay.”

His word caught you off guard, you froze too scared to look at him. He was busy slurping soup and you couldn't help but think you had imagined it. Shaking your head, you carried on walking.

“I said stay.”

It was clearer that time, so much so. Your heart fluttered as you turned to look at him. 

“Why?” 

Hopper took a breath, getting up he hunted around and found a piece of paper.

“Because I like you, and I don't want you to leave Hawkins.”

Walking over you took the piece of paper, you looked at the scribbled messages of him trying to explain how he felt and smiled.

“Joyce has been helping me to try and figure out how to tell you.”

“It's been two months, Hop.”

“I know, I'm a coward.” He said softly as he looked at you.

“You should eat your soup.”

“You should respond to my question.”

“It was more of a demand, Jim. Besides it took you two months to tell me, I'm sure I at least get till you finish your soup.”

Hopper smiled and sat back down, he looked at you and patted the chair beside him. You couldn't help but smile and dropped your bag on the floor and walked over to sit down. 

Once he'd finished his soup, he fell asleep. You kept yourself busy until he woke up and told you he was feeling better. But that didn't mean he got out of bed, simply that you joined him. 

#Jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #gn reader x Jim hopper #Jim hopper x gn reader #Jim hopper drabble #Jim hopper one shot #Jim hopper imagine #Stranger things fanfic #hopper x reader