#i need to get a real job i have to do something

[pricesprincess]

Hi! I was wondering if you were willing to write for Price using prompt #5 from list 2? Thank you! 🥰

18+ mdni - prompts

hello! this was so much fun to write! thank you for sending one in! 🥰

tags: fem reader with a bush + explicit smut + I gave him a domesticity/housewife kink whatever you wanna call it lmao

Heat came in waves, taking away the sweet spring air, turning the days into a muggy nightmare, suffocating everything in a heat that made it hard to breathe and caused you to sweat when you stepped outside, but at least it gave you an excuse to buy new swimsuits.

John handed you his card when you told him that you were going shopping for the upcoming vacation you both had planned. It was a weekend getaway at a hotel—nothing fancy. Still, it was where you two could focus on each other, ignoring everything and everyone.

You knew that your husband got a hard-on anytime he knew he was taking real good care of you, judging by that smile that curled your lips and the way you smothered him in sweet honey kisses.

Paperwork kept him tied to his desk at home, going over the monthly bills, something he never wanted you to worry your pretty little head about but he'd never stop you from getting a job if you wanted it.

It didn't take long for you to grab a few bathing suits, cover ups, and a sundress you knew would rile John up. One was skimpy, the fabric barely covering anything, and that would be the first one you would show off. It made you flush thinking about his reaction.

Twenty minutes after swiping the card, you slipped into the tobacco shop to pick out a few cigars for John before your car was pulling up into the driveway, your fingers clutching the bags when you got out.

Excitement fizzled in your veins as you hurried inside, shutting the door with your foot calling out to John. "Honey, I'm home!" You giggled hearing his footsteps from upstairs to greet you.

John always said that when he came home and you picked up on it quickly. "Get everythin' you needed luv?" He asked with a slight hum looking at the the bags in your hand. You nodded and wrapped one arm around his waist to nuzzle your face into him inhaling deeply.

"Yes, and more, sit on the couch for me please baby. I have something to show you." John let you gently push him toward the living room watching him plop down on the middle of the couch.

He leaned back, spreading his legs tapping his knee. "What are you up to?" He drawled in that thick accent that made you ache. Your giggles filled the air as you walked into the kitchen to shed your clothes letting it pool at your ankles before pulling out the first suit.

This one was the tamest of them all, a one piece that had your tits pressed together and hugged your curves. Once the straps were in place you grabbed the box of cigars and poked your head out.

"Shut your eyes please!" You sang hearing John chuckle before you tip-toed out to the living room to stand close to him. "Open."

You could feel the heat licking down your spine and pool in your tummy as John's eyes assessed you, starting from your flustered face to your pedicured toes. "Turn for me darlin', let me see."

You giggled and obeyed turning around with a twirl then you placed the box of cigars on his knee with a wink. "I have a few more, didn't know which one was the best for our vacation. Do you like?"

John rubbed at his beard, his heavy eyes on you making you shift. "Like? No, lovie. You look stunnin', good enough to eat." His praise made your skin burst with heat as you giggled and hurried to the kitchen stripping once more to pull on the skimpy bathing suit.

The other suits would have to be shown off later because if John thought the one piece was stunning? This one was sure to have his jaw on the floor, the cool air from the ac made you shiver before stepping out into the living room again humming John's name.

"Bloody hell, you're goin' to kill me." He muttered, his eyes latched onto the way your tits jiggled, the thin fabric barely hiding the stiff peak of our nipple and the pubic hair peaking from the sides of the bottom of your suit making his cock twitch in his pants.

You stepped closer, swaying your hips until you perched on his knee, your hands resting on his lower stomach watching the way he unashamedly checked you out like it was his first time seeing you.

His rough fingers grazed over your soft belly hearing how your breath hitched just from his touch then his mouth was on yours and he was shifting you to straddle him feeling the bulge of his dick throbbing against the thin material covering your slick pussy.

You leaned forward wrapping your arms around his neck, your tongue glided against his before twirling them together as his fingers played with the ends of the ties before slowly tugging letting your top fall loose, your tits bare and your stiff nipples brush against his shirt.

John's breath fanned against your neck as his tongue traced your erratic pulse chuckling when you gasped, your fingers curled into his shirt humping him, your clit aching to be played with, licked, sucked.

"My dirty girl, wearin' practically nothin' on our vacation, desperate for some attention?" He rasped, mocking you knowing how it gets your cunt dripping wet for him, you rolled your eyes playfully and shrugged as you leaned in and kissed him, nipping his bottom lip.

The space between you grew hotter as your breaths mingled together, his fingers tracing your nipples before pinching them making you squeal and hump him again, your hips working to find your orgasm but John grasped your hips stopping you.

You opened your mouth to say something but John had shifted and pinned you under him, your legs wrapping around his waist while he flipped your bathing suit top to bare your tits to his greedy gaze.

John stared at you, his hand roaming your stomach and chest watching you squirm and giggle. "Needy and responsive, I'm one lucky bastard." He rasped, his fingers trailing down to the hem of your bottoms barely sliding in to graze against the slick making his fingers sticky.

"Fuckin' drippin' for me." He sighed letting his fingers dip lower until he was rubbing your clit making you moan and hips to roll.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

[beatlblog]

#how does it feel to be thr voice of a generation sab#thats literally how i view u im not even gonba lie. you had such a huge hand in making thr classic rock fandom hilarious#in the small ways. you are the voice of a generation (via androcola)

#ty thats awesome i literally called myself csnyblr jesus earlier when i was talkin with kia (via cogneartive)

#can we have both. (via wronglennon)

#help! is beatles-produced beatles rpf (via ccsario)

#simon and garfunkel in an escape room (via ringosnoop)

#i think about celebrity tax returns probably as much as i think about them fucking.#especially when you pull up old tax forms from the 60s (or earlier) to see what they looked like#spoiler: they're so weird 😭 we're spoiled today (via surrealisticduvet)

i feel like people are seeing this as antagonistic towards sexual rpf. but what if its like “fuckkk john im sick and tired of these forms” “lets have sex paul” paul wipes his sweaty forehead with a towel embroided with john’s initials on it. “im not in the fucking mood john.” what then. (via cogneartive)

i just laughed much too hard at this thanks op

#claiming ringo as a dependent (via teomodo)

#truly the face of a guy going “youve got to do your taxes” (via tenderlady)

#the virgin tax filer vs the chad tax evader (via bambi-kinos)

#rpf would be george not evading taxes (via estrangedfiances)

#but also fuck the beatles for whining about money like cmon guys ur fine (via possessesnightshift)

#prev#i can buy decades long secret love affairs#but george complying with hmrc is too far (via callmemissodell)

prev is estrangedfiances

#sorry prev#you’re not a chad tax evader if you’re rich (via destrokkit)

#are the beatles movies rpf or do the people being written about have to not be involved#the beatles#also this is just what monkees fanfiction is like. if you consider monkees fanfiction rpf#the monkees when the line between character and real person is nonexistent: (via wyrmalien)

#lmfao johns looking at him like girl what are you sayinggg 😂😂 (via revollver)

#and the degree to which everyone went on expecting paul to wrangle john#including paul and john (via torchlitinthedesert)

#john face is literally 😦#tbf isnt it the accountants' job to do that??#why is john accountant ringing up paul's accountant to ask them to ask paul to ask john to do his taxes#so messy i love it (via comradeharrison)

#the real rpf here should be about the accountants#imagine what those conversations were like (via ohblahdo)

*first conversation w/o yoko present they’ve had in months” Paul: I need to talk to you. John (thinking): omg he loves me yes finally Paul: Have you finished your taxes? (via magzthemad)

#i just love that johns accountants were like#shit johns not doing his taxes. better get his boy bestie to make him do it (via oldmanpusspuss)

#maybe don't write hit song bitching about paying tax that's probably not gonna help george (via cinemaocd)

#anyone else distracted by George’s cunty sunglasses here (via sufjanista)

#i remember george bitching about the 97% income (?) tax in England at one point (via floating-hasselblad)

#McCartney isnt dead he is an adult with taxes (via schaudwen)

#I love this#because truly this is just the tip of the iceberg#when it comes to beatles and tax problems (via thestarsarecool)

#john pleeeeeeeeeeeease do your taxes i don't need another boyfriend of mine to go to jail (via monkberryfields)

#love the immediate devolvement into arguments about the beatles taxes in the replies#really warms my heart to know critical fandom discourse is still alive and well (via paulmccartneyexplodingonstage)

or something

#why didnt he do his goddamn taxes#i dont CARE if you wrote imagine you should do your fucking taxes mr lennon (via hankjwimbleton)

#this was paul saying 'i still love you'#i'm gonna pretend john didn't do his taxes on purpose#just so that paul could bug him about it#and prove he still cared (via notgrungybitchin)

et voilá

(via happytimetravelmilkshake)

#i am here for responsible little brother#telling devil may care big brother#to fill in his tax returns (via stesichoreanpalinode)

#absolutely love how Ringo is sitting there like (via leons-tits)

#he was just a ditzy manic pixie dream girl and Paul was his serious sensible bf fr (via gmaybe666)

#i have dredged the barrel#love that he remembers this but not like...anything else (via scurator)

All You Need Is Love And To Fill Out Your Tax Forms (via thesaltofcarthage)

#you can practically see him saying 'listen man you've got to file your taxes?'#(? not as in question mark but in that trademark raising of pitches at the end that#Paul McCartney and many Scousers do) (via aeolianblues)

#3 normal guys in suits and 1 very lost eccentric billionaire caveman (via buggywyrm)

very interesting that people automatically assume rpf as having sexual content. lets have rpf of the beatles struggling with tax

[starrylanex]

bf!dean having to see reader take one for the team and flirt/make themselves bait for a pervy witness during a mission. I'm just wanting to see how hard it would be for him to restrain himself from stepping in or him having to step in if things get out of hand 🤍

Thank you Pookie 😘

COST OF THE JOB, D. WINCHESTER

wordcount: 1,2k; warnings: a creepy guy, readers uncomfortable but dean comes in and saves the day.

an: hi angels, this has been in my drafts for way too long now so I think its fair it finally sees the daylight lol, so sorry to the person that requested this, but here it is now✨

———

The second Sam briefed all of you on the plan, you knew it was going to be a problem.

Not because the mission itself was complicated, just a simple case of a missing person, tied to a local creep with enough ties to the supernatural world to be suspicious. No, the problem was the role you were being asked to play.

"Carl Jennings," Sam had explained, tossing a file onto the motel room table. "Owns a bar downtown, last person to see our vic before she disappeared. Cops questioned him, but he claimed she left alone. No leads since."

You flipped the file open, scanning the contents. The guy's face was plastered across one of the pages, a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a face that made your gut twist. Not because he looked particularly intimidating, but because you recognized the type.

Sleazy. Overconfident. The kind of man who thought women were owed to him.

Dean leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "So, what? We knock on his door, ask real nice?"

Sam shook his head. "He's not gonna talk to us. But," he turned to you, "he's got a type."

You groaned, already seeing where this was going.

"Great." You dragged a hand down your face. "Let me guess, I'm the bait."

Sam hesitated before nodding. "He likes younger women, especially ones who act... interested. If we send you in, maybe you can get him talking."

Silence.

Dean hadn't said anything yet.

You glanced at him, expecting at least a grunt of disapproval, but he was just staring at the file. Too quiet. Too still.

Oh, yeah. He hated this.

"Dean?" you said, his name sounding more like a question.

His jaw clenched. "Do we really need to do it this way?"

Sam sighed. "Dean—"

"No, seriously," Dean cut in, his voice sharp. "There's gotta be another way. We can corner him after hours, rough him up a little—"

You snorted. "Yeah, because nothing says 'please tell us everything you know' like breaking someone's nose."

Dean shot you a look, but you ignored it, closing the file and pushing it away. "Look, I get it. This isn't exactly my dream gig, either, but if this is the best way to get him to talk, then I'll do it."

Dean exhaled sharply through his nose, leaning forward to brace his forearms against his knees. He ran a hand over his mouth, visibly trying to reel himself in. "I don't like it."

"I know." You placed a hand on his knee, squeezing lightly. "I don't either, but I can handle myself."

Dean's eyes flicked to yours, something passing through them. Something tight and reluctant, something that said I know you can handle it. I just don't want you to have to. But he didn't argue.

And that's how you ended up here. with Dean Winchester sitting few tables away from you pissed.

And honestly? You couldn't blame him. 

Because if the roles were reversed, if it were him sitting at the bar, laughing a little too sweetly at some pervy woman's joke, letting her place a hand on his arm, leaning in just enough to give the illusion of interest, you'd probably be throwing chairs. 

But the job was the job, and you knew what had to be done. 

It didn't make it easier. 

You could feel Dean's eyes on you from across the bar, burning into the side of your face, hot and searing. You didn't need to look to know that his jaw was clenched so tight he was probably grinding his teeth, that his fingers were wrapped too tight around his beer bottle, that he was seconds from saying screw the mission and stomping over here just to deck this guy for breathing in your direction. 

And honestly? You wouldn't have minded. 

Because this guy, Carl? Craig? Who cared, was exactly the type you hated dealing with. The kind of man who thought confidence and sleaze were the same thing, who assumed that a polite laugh was an invitation, that the way you leaned in closer was because you wanted to, not because you were trying to get him talking. 

You had the routine down to an art. Light touches. Tilt of the head. Biting your lip just enough. A perfectly timed giggle. And it was working, he was spilling information between flirty comments and drawn-out stories about himself. 

Then he placed a hand on your thigh. 

Every muscle in your body tensed. 

You swallowed the disgust curling in your throat, forcing a breathy laugh as if that wasn't your cue to get the hell out of here. As if your skin wasn't crawling under his touch. 

It's fine. You've done worse. It's just a hand. 

And then he leaned in. 

His breath was hot against your ear, his voice dropping into something meant to be seductive but landed more on the side of stomach-churning.

"You're even prettier up close," he murmured. "Bet you taste just as sweet." 

Oh, hell no.

Before you could react, before you could push him off, before you could figure out whether breaking his nose would blow the mission, he was gone. One second he was next to you, and the next, Dean was in his place, standing between you like an immovable wall, broad and solid and yours.

Oh, shit. 

You barely registered the sound of the guy stumbling back, his confused "Who the hell are you?" barely processing because your brain was still catching up with the fact that Dean had moved.

Because Dean Winchester never let personal feelings get in the way of a mission. Not when it mattered. 

But this? This was you. 

His restraint had been stretched too thin, too fast. 

And now? Now that elastic band had snapped.

"Her boyfriend." Dean's voice was rough, clipped, the kind of dangerous that had made grown men twice his size back down without a second thought. 

The guy scoffed, glancing at you like he expected you to deny it. When you didn't, he rolled his eyes. "Jesus, relax, man. She was into it." 

Your stomach churned. You were so close to just decking this guy yourself, mission be damned, but Dean's grip on the bar was white-knuckle tight, and you knew if you so much as exhaled wrong, he'd finish what he started. 

You placed a hand on his back, fingers curling into his shirt, not to stop him, but to ground him. To tell him I'm okay. I've got this.

Dean exhaled sharply through his nose, tension radiating through his body. "Yeah, well, work's over," he gritted out. "So why don't you take your slimy hands and crawl back into whatever hole you came from, huh?" 

The guy held up his hands in mock surrender, muttering something under his breath as he walked off, and only then did you feel Dean's body loosen under your touch. The moment the guy was out the door, Dean turned to you, scanning your face like he expected to find something broken. Like he was waiting for an excuse to go after the guy and finish the job.

"You okay?" His voice was softer now, hands finding your waist, pulling you in like he needed to feel you close.

You sighed, letting yourself relax into him, just for a second. "I had it under control, De." 

Dean huffed, eyes flicking to where the guy had disappeared. "Yeah, well, my self-control only goes so far." 

Your lips twitched. "I noticed." 

Dean ran a hand down his face, exhaling deeply. "Next time, I'm taking the pervy witness." 

You grinned, tilting your head. "Sure when you grow a pair of boobs."

Dean smirked, pressing a kiss to your temple, warm and steady and safe.

"Might as well."

[grandline-fics]

Love Potion

DESCRIPTION: Love Potion- You were both only pretending to date. The feelings aren't real...right?

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Smoker

WORDS: 1,663

A/N: Thank you @missrandomdreamer for requesting this one for the Valentine's Event. Hope you like what I came up with for this one, Smoker deserves the love so hopefully I did him justice on this. As always thank you everyone for your support. Enjoy ♥️

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

———————

“Is this really necessary?” Smoker grumbled around the cigars in his mouth as he shut the door to your room closed firmly. “I’m in perfect shape.”

“Every active member on this base has to undergo routine physicals, Vice-Admiral.” You spoke up from your desk as you grabbed his file and a pen. Even when he was wounded he protested the need to be tended to and while you were already expecting him to clear all your checks with no issues, you still had your job to do. Apologetically you looked at him as you rose. “No exceptions.”

Smoker made a disgruntled noise and glared at the examination bed he’d yet to approach. He swiftly turned his glare your way when you snatched the cigars from his mouth with ease and stubbed them out on the ashtray you always made sure to have in the room in the event Smoker would be coming by. You accepted his ire with an effortless smile, used to his perpetual grumpy and serious expression at this point. Lightly you nudged him along towards the bed. With all his strength and training he could have remained rooted in the spot had he wished but at your touch he relented and moved, eager to just get this over with.

As he sat down and zoned out, letting you do whatever checks and assessments necessary he began to think about how being here was actually a nice break. You weren’t going to pester him about changing the training schedule or beg to swap missions with another member of the base, you weren’t going to chase him about reports he forgot-or just didn’t care about- handing in for the higher ups at Marine’s main Headquarters. Best of all, any conversation you shared with him was appropriate and never prying beyond clear boundaries, unlike those under his command who thought any facet and avenue in his life was theirs to know and analyse obsessively over. Suddenly you made a surprised hum and he pulled himself out of his thoughts to see you studying his face carefully. “What were you thinking about?”

“Why?” Smoker couldn’t help but become defensive, ready to argue that whatever you spotted or noticed in your tests was false. 

“It caused a spike in your otherwise steady blood pressure.” You explained, lips curving in slight amusement. Lightly you tapped your medical notes. “Can’t clear you if there’s a possibility of an underlying condition affecting your blood pressure or an area of stress that could hinder your work.”

“It’s nothing.” Smoker explained firmly. “Nothing for you to worry over. I’m not going to complain over something insignificant and stupid.”

“Wouldn’t call this spike insignificant. Come on tell me and I can help. It’s what doctors are for right?”

“I was getting annoyed about the subordinates prying into my personal life. They’re like gossiping teenagers sometimes.”

“Is that all?” You asked with a laugh, stepping away from him and unhooking the blood pressure monitor. “What do you expect? They’re bored in between missions and you’re the best source of entertainment on the base.

“I shouldn’t be entertainment, I’m their boss to be respected.” At that you snorted with an undignified burst of laughter causing him to frown. “What?”

“Oh come on! I’ve heard you swear out the higher ups countless times when they annoy you. You call that respect?” You teased, laughing again when he looked away from you and muttered about how even you were disrespectful to him. “So what did the bad subordinates pry into most recently.”

“Recently and consistently they bring up my love life or in their words ‘a tragic lack of’ one.” He scoffed. “Every mission it’s putting up with their incessant questions and on the way back it’s stupid schemes to set me up with someone.”

“It’s sweet that they care.” You reasoned only to hear him being to mutter again. With a soft sigh you grabbed his notes to update them. He was the picture of health as you both knew would be the end result. “But if it bothers you that much, take the mystery away from them and they’ll move on. Tell them you’re seeing someone.”

“Magic someone out of thin air?” Smoker shook his head. He shouldn’t have even entertained the notion. His life was his own, he didn’t need to lie or divulge information if he didn’t wish to. “They might act like fools but creating a pretend lover is something even they’d notice a mile off.”

“Sooo don’t make up someone. Use someone they know?” You advised, moving to your desk to officially give Smoker’s physical the stamp of approval needed. Seeing you move, Smoker fixed his jacket and pulled out two fresh cigars to light but for once he didn’t make his way to the door with a gruff ‘thanks Doc’ like he normally did, he was too caught up in your words as you continued. “Then after a couple weeks, stage a break up and they’ll leave you and your personal life alone while you deal with it in your own way.” 

“Who am I going to rope into this scheme that I know won’t blab what’s really going on?” Smoker asked while stepping closer to the desk. His interest was piqued and it seemed like a solid enough plan but he knew that gossip spread fast in the G5 base. The last thing he needed was to risk extra insult to his pride if his subordinates knew he was lying. Smoker was surprised when you lifted your head and smiled at him expectantly. “Wait. You’d go along with this?”

“Why not? Helps you out from getting your blood pressure dangerously high again.” You shrugged simply. “Besides, doctor-patient confidentiality means I can’t tell anyone. What do you say?”

A few minutes later one of the G5 Marines rounded the corner, preparing for his routine physical only to slide to a complete stop in shock. The sight of Vice-Admiral Smoker, his leader straightening from what was most certainly a kiss with the base’s top doctor. The Marine froze when Smoker turned sharply to glare at him while you bit your lower lip shyly and looked away from the wide-eyed gaze of the Marine who interrupted such a sweet and tender moment. Smoker dropped his hand from your lower back and walked towards the Marine. “Whatever you think you saw. You didn’t.” 

Smoker continued on his way, the Marine unable to see his smirk as everything was already set in motion. By the end of the afternoon it was all through the base, some iterations of the events witnessed exaggerated or completely different but it all got Smoker what he wanted; for his subordinates to have something to distract them from him. Technically they were still fixated on him, but now that they believed he was seeing you, they were now talking amongst themselves about the matter and leaving him alone. 

Throughout the day he’d overheard the conversations both mixed and speculative. Some tried to work out when the romance had started and even that split theories and opinions. It had to have been recent because there was no way you both had hidden it for so long. It had to have been going on for a long time because it would explain why Smoker never looked at anyone else both off and on base. Some even declared they’d always known something was going on between Smoker and you and either way it was about damn time. 

For the next few weeks you and Smoker continued your subtle theatrics of being a couple and as you’d predicted the base that now there was no mystery to work out with Smoker’s love life, the base asked less questions. However when you appeared, even if it was passing by in the corridor the Marines looked your way in curiosity. Sometimes you did steal him away to say something useless or unimportant, just so you both appeared to be sharing a quick moment together when really it was just to keep your audience’s interest sated. One evening you found yourself in Smoker’s office, a new development that had occurred from your joint deception. While he finished reports at his desk, you reviewed your own medical reports from the comfort of the sofa he rarely seemed to use. While you both worked you engaged in idle but content conversation. 

“A friend of mine from one of the G7 base was in touch today.” You spoke up with an amused smile, not taking your eyes from your notes as you worked. “We’re one of the topics of conversation there too.” Smoker chuckled slightly at your report of how far the gossip had spread. 

“The interest in our relationship hasn’t died down at all.” He said with a small shake of his head.

“They’re so invested. They’ll be heartbroken when we end things.” You mused, too busy reading to notice Smoker's hand still in the writing of his own reports. He only now realised that that was the next stage in the plan; breaking up to gain full privacy again. Smoker hesitated to even admit it but he truly did enjoy your company. You were easy to be around, brought him a certain calm that he enjoyed. He tensed slightly when you asked him. “Have you considered when it’ll happen?”

“Uh…no. Not yet.” He admitted, that much he could confess. “They gossip but they're behaving for the most part, might just wait until they start to get bored. If that’s okay?”

“Of course, just let me know whenever you’re ready.” Smoker glanced at you in time to see you finally glance his way and offer him a relaxed but warm smile. The same smile he found himself looking for a little more each day. Whenever he was ready? Something gnawed at him in the uncomfortable realisation that perhaps the only thing he wanted to end with you was the pretending. 

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya , @48daisies , @sagyunaro , @artemis162534 , @rosemary-lungs , @thecraftywriter , @rorozorolover , @yagirlsmuchelle , @engenemoazen , @sukunasstomachtongue , @nico-ith

[jenosonlywife23]

Under the Influence (of You)

an; I miss jaehyun so much, and i remembered when youngji invited him to not much prepared. This drabble is inspired by that episode.

You had done the impossible before—held in laughter during live broadcasts, kept a straight face when a friend was clowning you in a group chat mid-interview, even successfully lied to your mom about where you were at 2 a.m. in high school. But this? This was an entirely different level of deception.

Jaehyun, your boyfriend of three years, fresh out of the military and glowing like he hadn’t just spent nearly two years in barracks, had an album out. The fans wanted him everywhere, and your show? They wanted him there the most. Comments flooded every post, every episode. Jaehyun on the show when??? He’s been on everything but this, what’s going on?! If you don’t invite him, I swear—

The problem? Nobody knew you were dating him. Not the fans, not the staff, not even your closest coworkers. Inviting Jaehyun to your show, a show infamous for getting idols tipsy and making them spill their deepest secrets, was like walking straight into a burning building with a bottle of soju in each hand.

So you did what any sane person would do. You stalled. "He’s busy with promo! He has schedules! Let’s give him time to adjust!" But the pressure didn’t let up, and when your producer started hinting at how great the ratings would be, you knew you were doomed.

"Just do it," Jaehyun had said when you finally caved and called him. "It’ll be fine. We’re professionals."

Professionals.

You nearly laughed in his face.

Instead, you called in reinforcements.

"So you’re finally breaking," Karina mused over the phone, amused. "You held out longer than I thought."

"I need strategies," you groaned, pacing your apartment. "What do I do? How do I not make it obvious? We have couple mannerisms, Karina. Mannerisms."

"First of all, don’t call them ‘couple mannerisms,’ that’s weird," she snorted. "Second, don’t look at him like he hung the stars in the sky."

"That’s just my face."

"Fix it."

Your next call was to Mark, because if anyone had experience being in a constant state of panic, it was him.

"Bro, if you slip up on that show, it’s over," he said seriously. "Like, game over. The fans will clip it, dissect it, and within ten minutes, they’ll have a thread with timestamps proving you’re soulmates."

"You’re so helpful, Mark."

"I mean, I could help you make a fake scandal to cover it up. Maybe you and Johnny should have an inside joke or something to throw them off?"

"You want me to make a fake ship to distract from my real relationship?"

"I’m just saying, it worked for me once."

You hung up on him.

In the end, after way too much deliberation, you agreed to invite Jaehyun on the show. The plan was simple—treat him like any other guest. No lingering touches, no secret glances, no laughing at jokes that weren’t actually funny just because he was the one saying them. It sounded easy enough.

But when the day arrived, and he walked onto the set with that lazy smirk, eyes locked on you like he knew exactly what he was doing, you realized something very, very important.

You were so screwed.

—

The cameras were rolling. The staff was excited. The fans were waiting.

And Jaehyun was already making your life difficult.

"Wow," he said as he sat down across from you, stretching like he had all the time in the world. "I finally made it."

"Oh, don’t act like I’ve been keeping you away," you shot back, keeping your tone playful. "You’ve been busy. And I—" you lifted the soju bottle pointedly "—value my job."

Laughter erupted from the staff. Good. Keep it light. Keep it normal.

Jaehyun chuckled, reaching for the glass you poured for him. "I feel like I should be nervous."

You smirked. "You should be."

The first few drinks went smoothly. You asked about his album, his time in the military, his adjustment back into idol life. He answered smoothly, charming as ever, throwing in a few anecdotes that had everyone in stitches. You were doing fine. Everything was under control.

Until the alcohol started kicking in.

Jaehyun’s gaze lingered a little too long when you refilled his glass. Your fingers brushed when you handed it to him. And then—

"You know," he mused, leaning back, "I thought you’d be meaner to me."

Your brain short-circuited. "Excuse me?"

"Like, I don’t know." He swirled his drink, a teasing glint in his eyes. "You usually like to bully your guests. I was expecting some tough love."

Oh, he was playing dangerous games. "Are you disappointed?"

"Not at all," he said smoothly. "It’s nice."

Too nice. Too obvious.

You kicked him under the table. His smirk widened.

Johnny, who had been invited as a surprise guest, arrived just in time to witness the moment and immediately looked into the camera like he was on The Office.

The fans were going to have a field day.

—

Things only got worse from there.

"So, Jaehyun," you said, steering the conversation back to neutral ground. "You had quite the career before enlisting. Was there anything you missed the most while you were away?"

Jaehyun hummed, tapping his fingers against his glass. "A few things, yeah."

"Care to share?"

He tilted his head slightly, eyes locked on yours. "I think I already have."

Your breath caught. No. No, no, no.

Johnny, the traitor, took a sip of his drink and muttered, "Wow, this is getting good."

You shot him a warning look before turning back to Jaehyun with a tight smile. "How about food? Was there a particular meal you missed?"

Jaehyun chuckled, clearly enjoying this. "There was this one dish I really missed. Someone used to make it for me all the time."

Oh, you were going to kill him.

The staff cooed. The fans were going to tear apart every single frame of this episode.

Desperate, you downed a shot and forced a laugh. "That’s sweet. Hopefully, you get to eat it again soon."

Jaehyun’s grin widened. "I think I will."

Johnny let out a full-bodied laugh and gave the camera another knowing look.

You were done for.

—

As soon as the shoot wrapped, you grabbed Jaehyun’s wrist and dragged him into your dressing room, shutting the door behind you.

"Are you insane?" you hissed, crossing your arms. "Do you want us to get caught?"

Jaehyun just grinned. "What, you didn’t like my answers?"

You groaned, throwing your head back. "You were this close to confessing on national television."

He stepped closer, hands gently resting on your waist. "But I didn’t."

You wanted to stay mad, but the warmth of his hands and the teasing glint in his eyes made it impossible. You sighed. "You’re impossible."

"And if you pull something like that again, you can forget about me cooking for you ever again." you muttered.

Jaehyun gasped dramatically. "You wouldn’t."

"Try me."

His pout was immediate. "You’re cruel."

[xfhsfh]

Here lemme put my conspiracy theory tinfoil hat for a second but I do believe that there is a real downgrade in writing competency, (at least in the movie industry which is the one I know about).

You see writing is an art yes, but also very much a craft, and you can't get good at writing unless you write a lot. That's how you get better. That's how you turn theory of writing into "feeling" of writing. How you don't just apply narratives schemes and structures, but can tell by reading and writing what a story lacks, what a story needs and how to get there. How to turn an idea into a story worth reading, or watching.

The same way that a cook can tell what a meal needs just by watching the consitency of a sauce, or by tasting and knowing what spices to add, how much salt to put without even measuring it.

And you get to that point by working on your craft. There are no cutting corners, even if you're talented or clever or know every classics by heart. At one point if you want to get good at writing you just have to write, again and again, the same way that a cook needs to make tens and tens of dishes to understand how all the ingredients work together.

And I won't say that it was easy to live off writing 20 or 30 years ago but it was definitely easier.

You could still make ends meet as a rookie writer 20 years ago or more. You could still have access to outlets that would pay you for your craft, even if it was a local newspaper or a short story magazine.

But those outlets have more or less disappeared. And the standards of quality for writing an article are completely at odds with writing a good or effective article. Now you have to write something that have to follow the guidelines that the advertisers requires because they want your article to be a jumping pad towards their products. What you have to do is to disguise the ad well enough so that the unsuspecting reader won't realise they're being advertised to...

Also given that most writing teams or newspaper offices have largely reduced in numbers and that teleworking is a thing now, you are way less likely to actually meet experienced writers that you can observe, talk with, share with. Or just writers with different life experience.

And I'm not saying that to say that contemporary writers should emulate older ones, but there is a virtue in watching how a seasonned writer of 20, 30 plus experience work. Just by virtue of comparing their craft to yours it adds a tremendous value to your work ethic, even if the result is you considering that their methods of working are stupid.

Being able to meet and work with different people of the same craft is a key element of an industry ecosystem. Because transmission of knowledge and actually working on your craft are the two legs on which an industry can carry on.

But I won't surprise a lot of people by pointing out the fact that durong those two decades, fragmenting work forces, and slashing salaries has been the norm in the entertainement industry (and so many other industries).

The liberals that managed to access position of power and decision-making don't give a fuck about work ethic. I'm pretty sure that the simple evocation of the word make them laugh.

(Here I'm talking about liberals as economic liberals, not the political left of the US, alright?)

Given that the profile of those people is usually people coming out of business schools, finance, communication or advertising, the idea of creating a healthy creative ecosystem for the industry at large is completely alien to that kind of person because the rules and experience lived by someone coming from the business sector is fondamentally different from someone coming from the entertainement industry.

To say it in short they don't understand what makes a good writing, they don't care about what makes a good writer, they don't even necesserally care about hiring a good writer because they don't see writing (or many artistic jobs) as an art, or a craft, but as a service they can pay for, to obtain a product they can in term sell.

It's basically the same logic used by the corporations that cut a forest to the ground to sell the wood. The appeal of a forest come from centuries of slow growing, of thousands of intertwined elements, all linked to each other and moving together in complex ways. When you cut a tree down you down just cut a tree but you severe all the links it has created with all the elements of the ecosystem around it. And a workforce works basically the same way. No worker is an island, no industry works sollely on its core principles, the complexity of an intertwined ecosystem exists also in the humans societies.

Basically they don't care about the health of a work force because they can't see it, it is alien to them. So they fire and burn-out experienced writers/workers because their salaries cost too much and that's how they were taught to do, to reduce the bottom line. They exploit rookie workers because they know they can get away with it and that's how they were taught to do. What's a 20 something working their first dream job going to do? Sue you?

They don't care about the ecosystem, they don't care about the forest, they just want the wood.

So we arrive at a point where the forest has been cut to the ground and when you want to see a tree it's a frail one, connected to nothing but ashes and dirt. And it will take decades, centuries before we can see a forest somewhat ressembling the one that was there before.

So we arrive at a point where you can go see a multi-million dollars movie, a blockbuster, with crude storytelling, appalling writing and dialogues consisting of tired clichés and repetitions. Because it is written by inexperienced writers, because they live at a time where working on honning your craft as a writer is more difficult than ever.

Even for those who actually want to find good writters and make great art it is way more difficult because the industry has been broken.

An industry that cannot retain it's skilled and experienced workers and that exploit the rookie ones to the bone is bound to decrease in quality and craftmanship, and that's the least of its offence because this decrease is written with broken lives.

And it's not only relevant for the movie industry either, enshitification affect a variety of industries, even the highly skilled industries like high-tech or the luxury industry. It is well know that the fabric that the luxury clothes are made from has decreased in quality, that some ancient manufacturing process have just disappeared for a lack of transmission of knowledge, or because it was too long, too costly, too difficult...

It fucking sucks

the exponential decline of the "mass market kids movie" needs to be put under a microscope. there was a point where you could rely on even the mediocre filler movies at least making sense on a basic directional emotional level, now you can't even reliably get that from pixar. i don't know why any scene happens in elemental, it is so fucked up, it feels almost postmodern

[rcvcgers]

Hello, I wanted to tell you that I love your writing. Rotten Apples has been my favorite. I was wondering if you could write something with a super caring Caleb?

I had a rough night with lots of tears and self doubt, lots of feelings of self hate and a lot of ugly feeling I’ve targeted myself with and I wish I had Caleb to soothe me. My heart aches and I need a hug from him.

i'm so sorry you had a rough night darling :( i hope you were able to feel better! i wrote this for you as soon as i saw your request. i hope it helps you feel better <3

Here For You

pairing: caleb x reader

synopsis: you've isolated yourself from the world and your boyfriend comes to comfort you.

word count: 3.08k words

content warnings: self deprecation, self doubt, bad/negative thoughts

author's note: i hope this request can help whoever reads this feel better <3 just know that you are so, so, so loved and deserve all of the good things in the world!

For the past few days, you’ve unintentionally isolated yourself from from the world. The first day the negative thoughts entered your brain, you acted as if everything was okay, that you were on top of the world. But seeing everybody else’s smiles and hearing their joyous laughter began to weigh down on you.

You wanted to be supportive of your friends and celebrate their achievements, but it was so hard to put a fake smile on your face and pretend to be excited. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but feel so…dull. To feel so dead inside that at moments you doubted that your existence was real. You want to be so happy, to bask in the joy of positive emotions and affirmations, and yet whenever you try, your stupid mind had to drag you back into the darkness.

You used the excuse of being sick to get out of dinner parties and hanging out. You even used a few of your sick days to get off from work, leaving your team scrambling to fill the void of you being gone.

Had life always been so hard? Why couldn’t it give you a break? Even just for one day, you wish to have some kind of release from the depression that has sunk into your body.

It’s not your fault that life is so unforgiving. Things happen, many of which are out of your control, but why did it have to affect you so badly? Did it really need to cause such chaos that uplifts you from acting like a normal person? Fuck, you haven’t even managed to shed a single tear since the negative thoughts hit your mind.

You stare at your bedroom’s blank ceiling. The sun had disappeared from the sky, its once vibrant oranges and pinks decorated your walls and ceiling, but now you were left with a deep gray color with only moonlight illuminating your room.

This had been your routine for the past week. You’d rot in bed, staring out the window as life passed you by. You watched birds flying, their freedom making you even more depressed, and watched as the sun and moon played a game of cat and mouse with each other, chasing after the other as the sky changes colors. Was it a routine you have grown bored of? Yes. Of course. But you couldn’t bring yourself to change out of it.

You wished your boyfriend was here. Caleb always knew what to do and say to help you feel better. You can’t even put some of the blame on him for not being here. His job yanked him away for a last minute patrol in the Deepspace Tunnel.

According to Caleb, it was the Fleet’s first time exploring this part of the Tunnel. You were so proud of him! The Fleet finally recognized his amazing talent and put him as the new supervising Colonel of Deepspace Exploration. He deserved it! He’s worked so hard for an opportunity like this to show up. 

Yes, you knew that it would take him away for weeks at a time. If not from the actual exploring itself, Caleb will be buried in paperwork, meetings, and flight schedules.

You should have taken him up on his offer to stay in his apartment in Skyhaven. Maybe then you would have been able to see him during your dark days and he can be the hand that pulls you into safety from the storm. Instead, you opted to stay behind in Linkon, claiming that your friends and work will keep you busy!

If only you knew that the day after he left things would go oh so wrong.

Linkon wasn’t so bad, though. The sunlight was good for your mood instead of the gloomy days that Skyhaven has. The sunlight helped motivate you to get out of bed to brush your teeth and shower, but that was about it.

A sigh leaves your lips. You roll onto your side, your gaze falling back outside the window. Planes fly by in the night sky, leaving off-white trails of exhaust behind them. A wave of sadness hits your stomach while you watch the planes.

A part of you wishes that Caleb is on one of those planes…that he’s coming home to see you.

No. Why would he? He has his new promotion with the Fleet. He can’t waste any time on trivial things…including you.

You flinch from the thought. Squeezing your eyes shut, you curl up into a ball, your knees pulling up to your chest. Why did these thoughts have to torment you? You know that Caleb would give up everything to come see you, so why do you always have to be so anxious that he’s going to leave you?

You know it’s the imposter syndrome talking, but you know that you’re counting the seconds until Caleb realizes that you aren’t worthy of his time, adoration, and love. You’re a semblance of a girlfriend, someone who snuck into such a prestigious position in his life. He deserves so much better than you. Hell, he deserves someone who is just as high of a rank he is! Another Colonel, maybe, or perhaps someone who he works with so he can see her everyday.

“Pipsqueak?” You freeze. The sweet nickname he has for you sends chills down your spine. The bedroom door creaks and the sound of faint footsteps draws near. You are quick to pull the bed’s sheets over your body and head, covering the sight of moonlight and the dark night sky.

The mattress dips and you feel a large hand rest on your side. It travels up and down, cascading the side of your covered body. You shudder from the touch, knowing that you’re unworthy of such affection.

“Baby? Are you okay?” Caleb asks. He reaches for the top of the sheets, drawing them away from your face. You feel the chilled air of the bedroom hit your face. You flinch and grab the sheets back from him, covering your face once again. “Hey…what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I’m fine…I’m just really tired,” while it isn’t necessarily a lie, you know it’s simply an excuse that he’ll see right through as he usually does. You listen to his slow exhale,, heart pounding inside your chest.

This is it. This is the moment where he finally realizes how much of a loser your are. You can’t even bring yourself to fully greet him when he comes home from work, what kind of partner are you?

“I’m,” you fake a cough, “I’m sick.”

“You’re sick?” Caleb repeats. Your heart twists inside your chest. Your eyes sting from the turmoil that bubbles inside your stomach.

“Y-Yeah…you should go back to Skyhaven so you don’t catch anything.”

You hated how easy it is to lie to him. To push him away from you.

Caleb doesn’t respond. Goosebumps spread across your body, suddenly feeling cold as you sick and twisted imagination slowly turns into a reality.

Did he finally realize that you’re nothing more than a nuisance to him?

“Hey…look at me,” Caleb coos. Your grip weakens on the sheets. The fabric slips through your fingers, eyes watching as the moonlight returns to your gaze, your handsome boyfriend sitting beside you with a look of worry, brows knitted together, bottom lip slightly pouted out.

Your heart breaks. It shatters into a million little pieces. It’s because if you that he looks this way, that he’s probably worried over nothing. Tears brim your eyes. Caleb sighs and his shoulders relax, watching as you slowly sit up in bed.

You sniffle and wipe your nose with the back of your hand. Your bottom lip trembles. The man reaches out and cups your face.

His touch is so gentle against your skin. Warmth seeps into your skin but it only makes you feel worse. Your body begins to shake. Caleb’s violet eyes scan your body, gently wrapping his free arm around your back. He pulls you into his lap with such ease, guiding your legs to rest on his sides, placing your full weight onto him.

Your melt into his touch, arms wrapping around sides, fingers curling into his shirt, tugging on the material. You bury your face into his neck, the tears finally leaving your eyes.

“It’s okay…I’m here now, let it all out.”

And you do. Sobs escape your body. Your body shakes and you push into him, the man gently running his hand up and down your back, soothing you. He holds the back of your head, securing you to his body. Your tears stain his t-shirt, soaking it with your salty tears.

You shake your head, unable to control how tight you hold onto him. His scent is so comforting to you, your nose burying into the warm skin of his neck to get more of it. It calms your nerves alongside his light and comforting touch.

“I’m so sorry,” you choke the words out, “I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“Never apologize for how you feel, my love,” Caleb gives you a gentle and reassuring squeeze. You sigh and peel your face from his neck, finally getting a good look of him.

He wears the biggest frown on his face as he pushes stray hairs out of your face. Your cheeks are stained form your tears, eyes red and swollen form the onslaught of sibs that overtook your body. Caleb runs his fingers up and down your sides.

“Breathe with me, okay?” Caleb asks. You nod in sync with him. He places his hand over your chest, feeling your heart pounding from inside your ribcage.

The two of you inhale for a couple seconds then hold the breath, your lungs full of oxygen, then slowly exhale. Under Caleb’s touch, he can feel your heart come to a slow and steady beat. A small smile spreads across his face, his purple eyes meeting yours.

“I’m so proud of you,” Caleb whispers. He leans in and presses a light kiss to your forehead. You sigh and rest your hands on his chest, flattening out some of the wrinkles in the fabric. You stare at the wet spot on his clothes and frown, feeling absolutely horrible that you ruined his clothes. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Your gaze floats back to his, his hands firmly holding onto your waist. You sigh and look away, unable to weave words together to form a rational sentence that doesn’t make you look, well, crazy.

How can you explain to your boyfriend that your mind has caused so much chaos and turmoil? That it has you believing that you aren’t good enough for anyone in the world, especially him. That he deserves so much better than what you have to offer him.

“Hey,” Caleb’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. He cups your cheek and swipes away a single tear that rolls down your cheek. “Stop thinking. Clear your mind.”

You nod and slowly inhale, needing to calm down your fast beating heart. Your mind doesn’t clear, though, and only becomes more and more loud as the thoughts of self doubt and negativity scream at you.

“What are five things you see?” Caleb asks.

“What?” You’re taken aback by his question. He squeezes your hips.

“Tell me five things you see. Be descriptive.”

“Um…okay,” you breathe out. Your eyes leave his as you scan the room. You turn in his grip, looking out the window behind you. “I see the moon. It’s big and yellow tonight. Looks like cheese.”

“That’s one.” You feel Caleb press a gentle kiss to your shoulder. You turn back around, heart fluttering.

“I see my desk. It’s…really messy. I should clean it up.”

“That’s two…and I’ll clean it for you tomorrow. What else?”

“Through the bedroom door, I can see the kitchen light is still on. I see…I see bags on the counter, too.” You look at Caleb, his thumbs slowly rubbing small circles into your skin under your shirt. “I see the most beautiful purple eyes, too.”

“Oh?” Caleb raises his eyebrows, smiling at you. You nod. He kisses your cheek and you melt into him yet again. “Ready to tell me what’s wrong now?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong, Caleb,” you breathe out, slowly growing frustrated. You press your forehead against his and squeeze his shoulders. “My mind just…hates me. I don’t know what happened, but an overwhelming sense of dread came over me and…and I began to hate myself,” your voice cracks. 

Tears return to your eyes and Caleb is quick to wipe them away. You manage to keep your breathing in check, making sure to not lose the sense of calm that soothes your aching body. Your glaze flickers back to Caleb’s and you sigh, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” your voice is just above a whisper. “You don’t deserve to go through this…you deserve someone who’s normal and good enough.”

“No,” Caleb immediately shakes his head. His own eyes become glossy from your admission. “Don’t you ever say those words ever again, do you understand?”

Your brows furrow, meeting in the center. Your hands slip from his body but he takes them back, placing them back onto his chest. He moves his head to meet your fleeting gaze, capturing your attention. He places his finger under your chin, turning your face back forward.

“I love you…I love you so much more than you can ever imagine. If anyone here isn’t deserving, it’s me. I don’t deserve to be in a relationship with you because you, my love, are lightyears better than I will ever be.”

“Caleb…” you breathe his name out. You hang onto every word he says, heart swelling.

“You are the most beautiful woman to ever exist. I love your smile, your laugh, and the way you always make me happy. I also love you when you aren’t feeling good. I love you and your frown and the way you manage to look so beautiful while crying…you’re the one for me. Nobody else,” he pulls your hand over his heart. You can feel just how hard and fast it pumps inside his chest.

“You don’t mean that…”

“Of course I do. From the first moment I met you, I knew that you were the one for me. On that day, I swore to myself that I would do everything in my power to protect you, to keep you safe…it pains me to know that I couldn’t protect you from yourself. I’m so sorry,” his voice cracks.

His grip on you tightens. His touch and words are so reassuring that you manage to push away the dark thoughts that linger in your mind.

Caleb loves you. He loves you so much. It is evident in the way he holds you, the way he kisses your tears away. You can feel it in the warmth that radiates from his body. Caleb makes you feel so worthy of his love, his adoration.

“Everyone has bad days,” he tilts his head to the side, his gaze deepening, “and that’s okay. It’s normal to have a bad week. It’s normal to want to crawl away and disappear. It’s okay to cry and to ask for help when it feels like you’re drowning,” Caleb coos. “Please…please tell me when you need help. I will always be here to pick you up off your feet. I will always be here to carry the weight that forms on your shoulders. I will do anything for you if it means that I get to see you smile again…that I get to live under the sunlight of your beautiful soul. I love you.”

“I love you too, Caleb,” tears roll down your cheeks. They’re bittersweet, formed from both sadness and joy.

The darkness that settled in the back of your mind vanishes. You can feel the weight leave your chest, opening up your lungs for more air to get in, to nourish your body. Caleb pulls you close to him, burying his face into your neck. His lips scrape across your skin, leaving a trail of sweet and gentle kisses in his wake.

His fingers slip under your shirt. The sensation of his skin against yours leaves you feeling so fulfilled. You love the way he treats you, how he always makes for sure that you know just how loved you are. He takes care of you. It’s so much more than you could have ever asked for.

What did you do to deserve a man like Caleb?

“Have you eaten yet today?” Caleb asks. You shake your head no, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer into your embrace. “Come on, I stopped at the store on the way here. Let me make you some dinner.”

Caleb picks you up with ease. You gasp and cling to him, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. His head shoots out from your neck, eyes wide as a big smile flashes across his face.

“You laughed!” He swoons, leaning back in to attack your face in more kisses, leaving no part of your face untouched. You close your eyes and shriek, more and more giggles fleeing from your lips while he carries you to the kitchen. “My pip-squeak is laughing! She’s happy again! My babygirl has come back to me!”

“Stop being do dramatic, Caleb!” Your laughter melts away the sadness in your heart and mind. You feel light again, ready to take on the world with Caleb at your side.

“Okay! Okay!” He laughs and pulls his face out from your neck. Caleb beams at you, setting you down on the cold countertop. You gasp and he’s quick to pull you up, resting his hands underneath your legs to protect you from the icy counter.

“What?” You ask, waving your hand in front of his face. He shifts his weight between his feet and leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips. You lean into him and kiss him back, butterflies erupting your chest. He slightly pulls away, lips grazing over yours, foreheads pressed together.

“I love you, pip-squeak, but I am going to need my hands for cooking,” he chuckles.

“I love you too...can I be your sous chef?”

“Are you kidding? Of course you can be my sous chef! Who else would I want by my side?”

[1nkwe4ver]

So here’s the theory. I think I’ve got it

I still think what Lumon is doing is bigger than giving rich people the chance to sever off their bad experiences. And I think Helena is actually a big hint to understanding whats going on with Gemma.

They act like Cold Harbor is going to be a religious revelation to the world, and I don’t think it’s just “eliminate all your troubles with Severance!” Like okay so if you’re not immediately existentially horrified by it, that might sound kinda cool, but what’s the big miraculous reveal they keep referencing with Cold Harbor? That will change the world? Make everyone join the cult of Kier? Why all the goddamned secrecy and hiding Gemma underground? Obviously people already know about severance and about using it for your inconveniences, people are already doing it. People are severing off worker bees for their 9-5. Rich people are using it to give birth.

So I have a theory of how this is bigger than that

First of all, some of the questions they asked Gemma. I felt like they were checking on her mental functions and memory as herself, as an Outie. “Where did you go?” And “Would you be more afraid of drowning or suffocating?”before she even starts her rooms for the day.

The next key I think is in things like MDR. They are finding the scary numbers and refining them into the boxes labeled with tempers(if that’s not what they’re labeled with it’s something like that). Mark’s first file matched the name of Gemma’s Christmas Thank You Note room, I think. Implying his finishing that file had something to do with the formation of that room. The room resembles the way one of their actual Christmases was set up, so I feel it’s implied they were drawing from his memories. Possibly one where they were feeling crappy because of all their failing to get Gemma pregnant.

Okay. So even if you accept that Lumon categorizes all bad feelings into the “tempers”, why does Lumon need this to make a room for Gemma’s Innie to experience this temper? Why bother personalizing it to Outie Gemma’s experiences in such a weirdly intimate way? After all, Innies aren’t supposed to have that kinda connection to their Outies.

And even beyond Mark, what is the rest of MDR doing? Why have them craft these weirdly personalized rooms to isolate tempers so intensely? If all they wanted was to let Innies do the dirty work for the Outies, surely they could come up with rooms doing the basic premises for themselves- eternal dentist offices and chores.

Also, why fucking plane crashes and Thank You Notes? Yes, Gemma hates thank you notes, but that Innie didnt hate thank you notes until she was subjected to that room over and over. You can’t tell me they’re going to sever so many innies into the average brain that someone is going to have one set aside to turn on just in case a plane crashes. Irl, a persons going to want to call their family if they have the service. They’re going to want to experience their last moments in case they die. They can’t trust the Innie to actually behave like a person on a real life plane rather than a simulated one. I also highly doubt someone will really get another brain surgery just to do a petty thing like Thank you notes. Will they delegate it? Sure. But even if I’m buying into the system of brain slaves thing, I’m not going to schedule the time and take the risks to have another severance done. If im that rich and petty I’m sure I have a personal assistant doing that shit anyway.

So how does Helena Eagan shed some light on this?

Remember after Irving nearly killed her, she speaks with Drummond. They say something along the lines of, doctors say her tempers will rebalance promptly. But if she’s still feeling poorly they can treat her. She insists immediately and firmly that she is fine.

I know it’s implied Helena wasn’t severed until she got her job on the severed floor. So what if that’s the point of severance?

Stay with me here. Kier has to be the core of whatever’s going to be revealed with Cold Harbor and Gemma. The beginning. They’re crediting everything to him. Praise Kier. His work will finally be realized and everyone will rejoice. But Helena has confirmed that Jame is the one to come up with the severance procedure.

So what did Kier do? He identified the tempers, for one. What does Lumon actually do with the tempers? All we’ve heard mentioned is people getting them in balance, or out of balance.

Helena’s situation implies two things-

One- followers of Kier approach larger medical issues, physical and mental, with doctors who rebalance their tempers as opposed to other remedies.

Two- Even Helena fucking Eagan isn’t really willing to undergo whatever the fuck you have to do to get your tempers back in balance under a doctor’s supervision.

So my theory is- Kier’s original method of balancing the tempers, the basis of Lumon’s ideology, is some variation of what they’re doing to Gemma, traditionally without severance. Obviously, because severance didn’t exist till a few years ago.

My theory is that they believe every illness/lack of wellness is an imbalance of the tempers. More often than not, a lower amount of one.

To raise this temper, they dig into you psychologically, maybe with normal therapy or something, take something that stimulates a certain “temper” and make you experience it over and over, to the point of torture. In their view, this ultimately realigns the temper and once youre done, you recompartmentalize the Dieter in you that’s experiencing that shit, and you’re well again.

The issue was, well- patients either left their cult or lost their minds. Kier died and I’m sure his personality, which had probably drawn and kept many in, lost many followers with it.

So the Eagans and their remaining followers have to accept that things aren’t going right. They have to change their approach. Make things a business to keep their power and influence, and back off from the things that make them look like wackjobs in the public eye.

I mean, obviously, Kier could never have been wrong, he was right. The problem is the world. The masses cannot handle his wisdom for some reason. We have to approach this differently.

So they need to do two things to make Kier’s word acceptable to the mainstream, really. They need to prove, as they believe, that balancing the tempers can heal pretty much any fucking thing under the sun. And secondly- they need to make a way to make the process usable on the masses. Something an average person could make it through without losing their mind.

In comes Jame Eagan.

He has the best idea. Kier always compartmentalized his time “balancing his tempers.” He put it all on Dieter(if Dieter was a real brother, excuse me, but I’m going with the ‘he was a metaphor’ interpretation for this. If you disagree, just take my references to Dieter to be personified portions of yourself you’ve compartmentalized to deal with traumatic situations). But Kier was pure. He was superior. The average person may need help to do that! Let’s section off a portion of their memories, so they don’t have to remember going through treatment! We create these people’s Dieter’s for them, because as long as the tempers in their body are balanced, they will experience the healing effects of Kier’s treatments. So what if those versions of them are in continuous loops of torture? Nobody cares about the states of those minds. Those are Dieters. Those aren’t real people. And then the real people get to be whole again!

Okay, but how do we convince the masses that this isn’t crazy bullshit? We need a real, solid example of how surreally magical and intense Kier’s treatment can be.

Well, the doctor says- with such strong mental barriers as this procedure will give us, I believe we could rebalance the tempers in anyone. Could do anything.

You know what it could do? We could raise the dead.

So- I think Gemma did die. Physically. I think they took her corpse, which Mark identified early on, and quickly swapped it out for them to bury a different one.

Then they used crazy technology to resuscitate her. I think she was on the edge of death and miserable and a shell of herself. Probably hardly functioning. Hardly reacting to the questions they asked. Who knows what her mind and body were like when she was recovered. She was her, but if she’d been allowed in a normal hospital, she would have long been pronounced dead, and if they somehow resuscitated her as Lumon originally did, so late, no one would have let her live how they resuscitated her to be. Gemma being brought back to herself as we’ve seen her would be a miracle.

That’s why they need MDR to unconsciously choose what they will use for the formation of the rooms. They are making sure the rooms will spike the sharpest reactions of her tempers possible. It is necessary to have a raw, unconscious human response dictate this. It is helpful to draw from Mark’s memories because they’re not trying to test Gemma’s Innies ability to withstand dealing with the rooms, they’re trying to restore Gemma’s tempers to the levels they were at before her death. Other people’s experiences can work for some general things, like anxiety at the dentist office, but it makes sense that Mark is so essential here in that context. He is the refiner that can’t be fired because to really get Gemma back to Gemma, we need situations that will stimulate her from the life they shared. They have a general idea of where her old tempers were, I think because they measure it in the blood. And they had a lot of access to Gemma medically before her accident. She went to Lumon blood drives. She went to the Lumon fertility treatment, where that doctor who worked on this hell floor was seen in the background. I’m guessing they believe they have an idea of her “tempers” pre-death because of that.

This also lends itself to a late stage Uno reverse from Cobel or Helena, trying to get Mark on their side. Hell, it might late stage be the only reason Mark finishes the goddamned Cold Harbor file.

Because we’ve seen how tortured Gemma is right now, so in our heads, right now, it seems like nothing could make us sympathize with these crazy evil folks. Makes us hate Lumon drones we’d come to like, like Milchik and Cobel and Helena afresh. But what if Gemma really was dead before all this? What if she really was a barely breathing corpse when they started this work on her? It wasn’t their right to take her body, but now she is back and she is her

If you hear, Milchik, Cobel, and them really are so devoted to this company because they’re working on bringing people to perfect health with a health framework that is so superior it can bring people back from death, you want to say that they’re deranged and wrong, but ignoring whatever got them into the company in the first place, what about what they’ve potentially seen with Gemma? Maybe it’s still wrong to be so cruel, but if you’ve really seen this company bring someone back from death to essentially herself, wouldn’t that inspire your devotion? Wouldn’t you think you should probably toughen up as opposed to getting out? Wouldn’t you be a little reverent? Wouldn’t you have committed to breaking society’s rules already? And if you wouldn’t be, can’t you imagine someone else being so? Like that is wild. Cobel has been in this company since she was a child and now she’s literally a part of them doing one of the most miraculous things anyone ever said she was crazy to believe they could do.

This also puts Cobel’s obsession with Mark and his family into perspective, because it’s not just screening things for a sign he might get away, keeping control of the situation, a weird sense that she’s entitled to be close to him- it was also originally probably a recommended route to getting more info on Gemma. How many times did Selvig bring cookies for Mark and gently coax him until he told her stories about Gemma? How many pictures did she pull up and ask questions about? How many little pieces of furniture, like the candle, did she steal, to help personalize Gemma’s experiences further? How much info did she get from getting to know Ricken and Devon?

Also, another thing about Helena, which is just occurring to me as I write this- I’m thinking back to early season 1. When we still don’t know her full identity, but we see her side of her first day at Lumon.

I originally attributed this to them being unsure what they were going to do so early on, but I’ll say, Helena seems genuinely happy and pleased when we see her side on the outside of her first day severed.

Nowadays, when we see her in the outside, she’s cold and reserved, in large part I think because the experience has gone so wrong. And I think people have just written off that early episode as just them keeping her behavior vague- she’s being polite, going through the motions. Based on her behavior now, we might think she never wanted to be severed in the first place, was always forced.

But I think of like, when they show her smiling and talking about it, almost nerding out while they’re doing the procedure. Nervous, but genuinely a bit excited. And what is there to be excited about? You’re not gonna remember what goes on. I don’t take anything she said for the videos at that party in the finale as real.

But this theory, about the Kier cult and balancing tempers for health purposes? I think that really makes it make sense.

Helena was raised in all this, and she seems to scoff at some parts of it. I’d say it’s implied on some level, she knows it’s bullshit. She is stressed and firmly denies she needs to go to the tempers balancing doctor after Irving tries to drown her. She starts giggling at the dramatic story about Kier masturbating. It very much seems like she doesn’t drink her own Kool Aid.

So, if shes really just a business mind in all this, not a real spiritual believer, I think she’s excited to be severed because she’s stuck in this system. Every time something in her life happens to her- she gets hurt, she gets attacked, she undergoes a traumatic experience- she gets sent into the waking nightmare of the doctors who dig into your psyche and rebalance your tempers. What they’re doing to Gemma, without Severance. Torture. She’s an Eagan, it’s not supposed to bother her, she of all people is supposed to be superior, but she fucking hates it with all of her being.

So she is excited to be severed because it represents finally not having to fucking deal with that.

She is ready and willing because before Helly, she saw severance as her way out of hell. Her way to finally create a Dieter she didn’t have to deal with. To not experience them carefully crafting experiences to torture her in the name of “rebalancing her tempers.” Severance was finally going to let her compartmentalize all the shit she couldn’t stand about being an Eagan and focus on being herself. Everything she’d been taught about it said she didn’t need to worry about Innies, they weren’t people.

But then she takes the severed job- and Helly keeps trying to run out the floor. She threatens to cut off Helena’s fingers. Helena is supposed to walk in the elevator and come out never knowing more than an echo of Helly’s pain- and one day she walks in the elevator, and the next moment she’s being hanged.

So her hopeful little smiles before going in are just gone. She still feels trapped. She never wants Helly triggered again, I highly doubt she wants to create a system of others. But of course, she’s still an Eagan, and she has to still finish the realization of Kier’s wishes, and they still have a woman nearly brought back to life in their sub-basement. And they still want Helena Eagan’s severance as a publicity stunt.

So yeah. I think we’re going to find that Gemma DID die in that car accident, and was brought back to life using an extreme combination of Kiers principles and balancing of the tempers, a process which she can only handle mentally because the parts of her dealing with the individual bits of the torture are severed off.

Mark’s contributions in unconsciously creating the rooms are essential because they need to make sure her tempers are balanced back to the way Gemma originally had them. I’m not sure exactly what the Cold Harbor file is, but once the room is done and used, Gemma will be “completely” brought back. And Lumon intends to use this as proof to the world that the Rebalancing of the Tempers is the cure for everything, as Kier always said.

[olderthannetfic]

Man...heavy vent for your blog, but I often see so many fandom people who are "successful" in the typical academic way. Masters, med school, law school, phd, etc.

And that is great. I am happy for those people! I earnestly LOVE it when my friends, mutuals, following, etc get to do their dream job or dream degree. :)

But...that will likely never be me. I am an alcoholic dropout. Which is also fine. I'm working on myself. And tbh I've worked so hard just to stay the fuck alive that even just being here is an accomplishment. I left my cult I was raised into, I live alone (which is more so something I need than something I want, but still great I can do it). yes all I have going in my life is my GED, my IOP program, my dinky work from home admin assistant job, and the HRT i've always wanted and now no longer think I'll go to hell for getting (bc that is not a real thing). I am a survivor! I am badass! I have done great, all things considering!

But...that might be all I accomplish ever. Which is fine. But it's still hard, sometimes? Im sure most people have seen that post that is about, like, niche knowledge that fanfic authors have and apply to their works and whatnot? And that is...nothing for me. Nothing. I cannot apply any type of job or education or whatsoever to my fic because that never happened to me. This isn't me insulting myself, it is just facts.

I genuinely don't hate myself or anything, which in itself is great bc life trauma wants me to hate me! and i don't! I just...feel sorta worthless because I might never achieve more than what i have already achieved, which is barely nothing, and so many people seem to be successful and I am just not.

--

The successful ones tell you about it.

But also... given how much fic is either about extreme trauma with no actual plot or about people hanging out in a coffee shop, I am confident that you can apply plenty of life experience if you want to.

[waynes-multiverse]

Already so in love with the start of this chapter! A girl who can eat is a girl after my heart 🫶 (and apparently Russell's lol)

“Good god. You have never been more attractive to me, which is saying something.” You slurped again, Russell letting his curiosity in your eating habits fade away in favor of the elephant in the room.

Girl, you and I have the same headcanon about this! He needs someone with super weird food habits 😂🫶

And I loved her then suddenly trying to get rid of him and coming up with the lamest excuse in the book before threathening him lol. Glad he saw right through that! And this made me melt 🫠:

“Forget I said anything.” You stood up, Russell matching the movement and catching your bicep before you could take a step. Yes, he was injured but even one armed, he had enough raw strength in him to keep you from leaving. “Tell me or I dig on my own and make things a lot riskier for both of us.” He dropped his hand, nodding to the seat. Russell sighed. “I trusted you. You can do the same.”

Oh, and it is a mafia thing! 👀 Phew, that's a tough job for Russell (not that I doubt his abilities, but she is right – he's only one man. You're not planning on breaking my heart, are you? 😅)

“Like my home?” He stared blankly, eyes drifting down to your chest. “The flirting was cute. Eye-fucking me in my kitchen, not so much.” “You have sauce all over your shirt.”

Oh, he got real lucky there, didn't he? He must've loved this 😂😂

“Because knowing how to get stains out of all types of fabrics is kind of necessary in my line of work,” he said, opening a few cabinets before finding the one with the plates. “Now. Can you put the knife you thought you grabbed without me seeing back and we have a civilized conversation over pizza?”

I'm so in love with this characterization of him here! Behind all the goofiness and bad flirting still hides that smart killing machine, and you portray that so well throughout their entire conversation 🖤

“The paranoia got to dad. He would take me on these weekend hunting trips all the time and teach me survival skills and medical stuff and I was a fucking kid, Russell. I didn’t want to do that shit but dad was…twitchy.

I love reading more of her backstory, and obviously Russell can relate since he grew up similarily. I see some romance brewing and bonding happening here 😍

You’re going to park in the visitors lot and go to the airstream in lot 4. It’ll be isolated. You knock on the door and there’ll be a guy inside. Colter. You stay with him, go wherever he goes and do whatever he tells you to without question. You don’t leave his side until I come and get you, understand?”

Knowing her, I don't see this working out well for Colter. Poor guy will have his hands full with her 😂

You woke up around six thirty, jolting up in your bed to find a very wet and nearly naked Colter trying to pick up a mug he’d dropped.  “Well good morning,” you said, his hand in a death grip on the towel just barely concealing him away.

I don't mind this at all 😏

The commitment to him being shirtless on this show is for real, tho 🫠 (And PS: I saw you wrote for Colter too! I totally have to check that out! Justin Hartley had me in a chokehold since This Is Us. He rows right into the "lovable and stupidly hot idiot" category that I've fallen victim to lol.)

And not only did she bond with Russell in this part but also with Colter. Seriously loved every minute of their conversation! And considering Russell sent her to his brother, who he hasn't spoken to in so long, speaks volumes how much he trusts Colter. Colter seeing that too was such a precious moment 😭🫶

Sure, Colter was hot but Russell…well the image of that man in nothing but a towel as water dripped down his body…

Agree! The ruggedness and roughness (the beard) certainly adds a few plus points 🔥😏

“And? What am I saying?” you asked, staring him down.

I was gonna say, she should be careful with that challenge, and his answer did not disappoint! It was gold 🤣🤣🤣

And I totally didn't expect her to stay with Colter for days, drive across the country, and join him on a case! This is such a cool twists and I'm loving their hangout dynamic 😁 I do have an inkling Russell will be jealous of their bonding and probably scold Colter for taking her on a case lmao

“He knows what he’s doing. A job like this, he’s got to do a lot of prep work and he’s got to put a crew together. Trusted friends. Try not to worry.”

Ooooh I know you read the books and this reminded me so much of the crew book!Russell worked with!!! 👏

I was so relieved when he came back in one piece! And that little present for her was so sweet and thoughtful 🥹 The note, on the other hand, was hilarious 😂

But why the angst at the end there? No they were supposed to be happy! Sunset, rainbows, unicorns, glitter!!! I will suffer in the next part, won't I? 😅

This was such an amazing chapter from start to finish! I thoroughly enjoyed all their conversations, their dynamics, the humor mixed with seriousness and feelings. Loved every second of this! 🩵

He's My Man (Part 2)

Summary: The reader isn't quite so sure if she can trust Russell with her secrets but he's decided she's going to get his help, whether she wants it or not. Reluctantly she accepts but in the process realizes she might actually be starting to care about him...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 4,500ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury mention, mentions of death, angst, fluff

A/N: Ooooh things are heating up! Please enjoy!

__________

Russell stared at you with what one could only describe as a look of wonder. You didn’t exactly blame him. Eating four large cheese danishes and chugging back a week’s worth of coffee in the span of fifteen minutes was enough to make anyone’s eyes widen.

You tossed your trash in his motel waste bin when you finished and returned to your seat at the tiny corner table. With an obnoxiously loud slurp of even more coffee, Russell titled his head, shaking it slightly.

“Good god. You have never been more attractive to me, which is saying something.” You slurped again, Russell letting his curiosity in your eating habits fade away in favor of the elephant in the room. He straightened in his seat, pausing a beat. “So. What’s this long story?”

Your fingertips rattled against the side of the large styrofoam cup, a small amount of heat radiating through. Now that you’d had some time to think, or rather stress eat, you knew this was a mistake. A big one. You needed to kick Russell out of your life and the sooner the better.

“I think you have the wrong idea about what’s going on and I thought it better we talk in private,” you said. Russell wore a weary expression, his eyes dissecting your every micro-movement. “I’m not interested in a relationship or a date or conversation. I don’t do that considering my line of work and I imagine you keep things casual with yours. So you take your money and consider this a warning. Contact me again and I will have you dealt with, understand?”

Russell leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a clenched jaw. You narrowed your eyes in response, Russell picking at his bandage without realizing. 

“Stop that,” you mumbled when he kept doing it, his lip twitching up in a not so friendly way.

“You threaten me and in the next breath are worried about my damn stitches? I don’t think you realize just how good I am at my job,” he said, placing both hands on the table, folding them together. You swallowed, Russell staring so intently you had to glance away. “Alright. Back at the coffee shop, that was a moment of bravery and now it’s passed? Tough shit. We’re in the weeds now and we ain’t leaving until I know you do your job of your own free will. Understand?”

“Forget I said anything.” You stood up, Russell matching the movement and catching your bicep before you could take a step. Yes, he was injured but even one armed, he had enough raw strength in him to keep you from leaving.

“Tell me or I dig on my own and make things a lot riskier for both of us.” He dropped his hand, nodding to the seat. Russell sighed. “I trusted you. You can do the same.”

“You’re one guy.” You shook your head. “Drop this or you’ll wind up dead or worse.”

“I made my living doing jobs where if I fucked up I’d wish I were dead over the alternative. I know how to keep a secret. Maybe I can help, maybe I can’t. But you opened the box. You can’t just close it again.”

“Yes, I can. Goodbye, Russell.” You grabbed your coffee and headed for the door, pausing when you had a hand on the handle.

But what if he could help…he was ex-special ops…

Russell’s hand slid over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. You frowned, a reassuring smile greeting you.

“Do you like your job?” he asked. 

“S’complicated,” you whispered.

“How complicated?”

“Jobs like yours…that’s up to me to do that stuff but I…I work for someone else.” You found Russell’s unreadable green eyes and sighed. “I’m a fixer for the local mafia. It’s not a job you get to quit and stay alive very long.”

Russell contemplated your words, lips forming a thin line before he nodded. “I can take care of that assuming your story checks out.”

“My story?” you asked, Russell humming. “Why would I lie-”

“You could be playing me for any number of reasons. Like I said, I’m going to check your story out and if it’s all kosher, we’ll figure out where to go from there. Capiche?”

“Fine,” you grit out, shaking his hand away. “But do it quietly. You got three days.”

Late Evening

Your eye actually twitched when you answered your front door that night to find not your pizza delivery man before you but Russell fucking Shaw. He wore a deep navy utility jacket that hung loosely around his trim waist and a pair of black jeans. You weren’t sure why but his shift from lighter colored clothing this morning to this dark, edgy look made him look as dangerous as you expected he was.

“Russell,” you said. He didn’t bother hiding his smirk, eyes roaming over your body. You glanced down at your soft pale yellow pajama shirt and matching shorts set, huffing when he slipped past you inside.

“You totally are the kind of woman to having matching jammies,” he chuckled. You gripped the door tight, ready to kick him out just as your delivery driver pulled up.

“Just…take off your boots.” Two minutes later you had your pizza and garlic knots on your kitchen counter while Russell leaned back against it, his jacket since removed and tossed on the back of your couch. He wore a black zip up that was undone over a black t-shirt, Russell shifting at your growing unease.

“Listen,” he said, holding up his hands. “You got questions but first off, I’m not here to hurt you. This is just what I wear when I need to go…looking around places I ain’t exactly invited into.”

“Like my home?” He stared blankly, eyes drifting down to your chest. “The flirting was cute. Eye-fucking me in my kitchen, not so much.”

“You have sauce all over your shirt.” You glanced down, spotting marinara drops all over your short sleeve button up top from where you’d had the edge of the pizza box pressed against your torso as you’d carried it in. “Thanks for thinking so highly of me, though. Makes a guy feel special.”

“I’m on edge, alright?” you snapped, grabbing a towel and trying to get most of the sauce out. “Plus I just ruined a two hundred dollar shirt.”

“Figured you for a oversized men’s t-shirts kind of gal but little sets from french boutiques suites you.” You froze, Russell dropping his hands. “I know all about your shopping habits. You have high quality taste, much richer than the average suburbanite.”

“And?” you said, tossing the towel down, hands going to your hips. “Are you about to kidnap me and turn me over to the mafia or what?”

Russell approached you slowly, gently picking up the towel from the floor and dabbing it with some dish soap. 

“If I had wanted to hurt you or take you or whatever else is going through your head, you wouldn’t have seen me coming.” He rubbed the towel against the damp spot on your shirt, letting the fabric get soapy. “Let that soak for a few minutes and then after you have some dinner, toss it in the wash. It’ll come out good as new.”

“How do you know that?” you asked, Russell hanging your towel on the oven handle. 

“Because knowing how to get stains out of all types of fabrics is kind of necessary in my line of work,” he said, opening a few cabinets before finding the one with the plates. “Now. Can you put the knife you thought you grabbed without me seeing back and we have a civilized conversation over pizza?”

You weren’t sure how he’d seen you swipe the knife from the butchers block but figured he had a point. If he’d wanted to screw you over, he would have done it already. After excusing yourself, you returned in a pair of skinny black joggers and a slightly cropped gray AC/DC shirt to find Russell had already plated two sizeable portions for yourselves. 

“See? Now that’s a look more fitting for the princess of darkness,” he chuckled.

“That’s queen of darkness to you,” you said, taking a seat at the island in front of one of the plates. “Do me a favor, lover boy. Grab me a guinness from the fridge.”

“Dark stout. Always a good choice.” He got out two, removing the cap for you before retreating to the other side of the island.

“As much as I love uninvited house guests who welcome themselves to my food and beer, why are you here, Russell?” You took a large bite of pizza, Russell long necking his beer for a moment. 

“Yet I don’t see you kicking me out. It’s okay to admit you’ve fallen for me, Y/N,” he teased. You growled, Russell’s eyebrows raising in amusement. “Hot damn, woman. I love when you get all grr. Tells me you are a force to be reckoned with.”

You rolled your eyes, Russell taking an extra large bite. “Stop flirting and talk.”

“Why can’t I do both?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. “But to answer your original question, I’m here because your story checked out and that’s kind of a problem.”

“Excuse me? Why is that an issue?”

He set his plate down and gripped the island, leaning over it slightly. “Y/N. I can call up a few friends and wipe out a local mafia family no problem.”

“Awesome. Then what’s the fucking problem?” Russell tilted his head, like you’d just walked into some kind of trap he’d set.

“Y/N. Despite all the obvious sexual tension brewing between us, you failed to mention that you have a boyfriend. You know, the head of this fucking mafia family. The boyfriend that buys you those fancy french pajama sets? The one that bought that espresso machine over there? Girl, you better explain yourself because I am not a hired gun.”

You chewed quietly for a few moments under the heated scrutiny of Russell’s gaze before you pushed the plate away.

“My dad was an accomplished doctor. He was very well respected. I grew up very comfortably until I was about eight.” Russell loosened his stance and began to eat while you decided what he needed to absolutely know. “My dad unknowingly saved a mobster’s life one night in the ER. Mr. Lauter.”

“The former head of the mafia and this guy, Owen, your supposed boyfriend’s dad?” You nodded before taking a big swig from your bottle.

“Well, that pissed off Mr. Elpine who had almost had a successful hit on Mr. Lauter. Elpine tried to get my dad to kill Lauter. Dad refused and the next morning on the way to school, the brake lines in our car didn’t work. Dad and I walked away. Mom and my brother didn’t. Dad was scared Elpine would come after me again.”

“Your father went to Lauter for protection,” said Russell. You picked up your pizza as he put together the rest of the pieces. “Lauter offers him protection for saving his life but something happens and your dad ends up working for Lauter as his fixer.”

“The paranoia got to dad. He would take me on these weekend hunting trips all the time and teach me survival skills and medical stuff and I was a fucking kid, Russell. I didn’t want to do that shit but dad was…twitchy. PTSD for sure, a mental break too. I always guessed there was some brain trauma after the accident that never healed. He got real bad when I went to college. Bad enough that Lauter stepped in when my dad attacked me when I came home for the holidays. Lauter killed him and the fucked up part was I wasn’t even upset. My real dad had died when I was a kid. But…when a mob boss kills for you whether you wanted them to or not-”

“They think they own you for life.” You nodded. “So you became the fixer.”

“They let me finish college under the condition I come back and work for the family. They leave me be except for when I need to patch someone in the crew up. It’s honestly not that bad. They gave me a lot of money over the years. I hate to say this but Mr. Lauter was pretty good to me.”

Russell cleared his throat. “You do know how fucked up what he did to you is, right?”

“Of course I do,” you said, closing your eyes. “But compared to my dad and Owen, he was the lesser evil.”

“I came across the fact Mr. Lauter died about three weeks ago from heart disease.” You hummed. “Tell me about this fuckface, Owen.”

“Dude has had a crush on me since he was fucking twelve. He has it in his head that the family owns me, literally. Lauter always reined him in but since he’s been gone, Owen’s been…pushy. Telling the crew I’m his girlfriend, asking them to follow me. Thankfully, and this is why this is so weird, I grew up around a lot of the guys. Making me work and fix people, fine. But some kind of forced romance? They aren’t cool with it, at least they’re kind of ignoring Owen. I’ve kept Owen off my back because he’s grieving and busy trying to take over but he’s going to back on my ass soon. This time, those guys will have to listen to their new boss.”

“So…I take out Owen and you think you’re in the clear. You could have just said that.” He finished off his beer and washed his hands at the sink. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going grab essentials, and I mean essentials, while I pack up your dinner in what I expect is some color coordinated tupperware. Then you’re going to take my car and drive to Elmhurst Camping Grounds. It’s about four hours north of here and no, you will stop for anything so use the bathroom before you go and I’ll pack you a snack. You’re going to park in the visitors lot and go to the airstream in lot 4. It’ll be isolated. You knock on the door and there’ll be a guy inside. Colter. You stay with him, go wherever he goes and do whatever he tells you to without question. You don’t leave his side until I come and get you, understand?”

“I feel like if I ask questions you’ll just tell me I don’t want to know.” Russell smirked.

“I love that big brain of yours.” You rolled your eyes but felt a tiny smile on your face. “Warming up to me are we?”

“Fuck no. But uh, who the hell are you sending me to?”

“My baby brother. Don’t worry. His ugly mug will keep you safe.”

Four Hours Later

“Uh, hi,” you said, practically bouncing up and down at midnight in front of a strange tall man at a very nice airstream RV. 

“Y/N,” he said as you forced a smile. “Bathroom is right there-”

You darted past him and into the small cubby bathroom, grateful after the long drive. The man was waiting leaned against a small counter space when you exited, a temporary bed made up behind him in what looked like a breakfast nook.

“Sorry to barge in. Russell said not to stop for anything.” 

“S’alright,” he said. “Bed’s made up if you want to crash. I’m going to stay up a bit longer by the fire. You’re welcome to join if you like.”

“Thanks, uh…” you said, a very brief smile on his face as you tried to remember what Russell had called him.

“Colter. It’s not a problem.” He skirted by you and outside, taking a seat in a foldable camping chair. You had questions but for the moment, all you wanted was to get some rest. 

You woke up around six thirty, jolting up in your bed to find a very wet and nearly naked Colter trying to pick up a mug he’d dropped. 

“Well good morning,” you said, his hand in a death grip on the towel just barely concealing him away.

“Morning,” he said, slowly backing up to the bedroom. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Not a problem,” you said, catching a whiff of coffee. 

“Mug are in the first cabinet if you want a cup. I’ll be out in a minute,” he said. He excused himself to his room and slid the divider shut, leaving you to the rest of the airstreamer. 

A moment later you were outside in front of a small fire, sitting in a chair with warm coffee in your hands. It was cool and you wished you’d thought to pack a jacket in your haste last night.

You were rubbing your arms when something was draped over your shoulders, a thick heavy hoodie. 

“Russell got you out of there pretty quick, huh?” asked Colter, taking the mug while you shrugged into the warm fleece.

“Yeah. All I grabbed was my wallet, some cash and my computer. He told me I could buy clothes here,” you said. Colter handed you back the mug and took a seat beside you.

“I checked his car. He had a duffel full of his clothes in there I brought inside. You can use his stuff, or mine, until we can hit a store.”

“Thanks,” you said, smelling Russell’s deodorant on the fabric. Colter saw you tug the hood up, a question on the tip of his tongue but he decided against it. The air was still and quiet apart from the crackle of fire and morning birds. 

“So,” said Colter, not looking at you as he drank. “You and Russell…you like, his girlfriend-”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I just met the guy yesterday. All I did was patch him up.”

“Right.” You sunk lower in your chair, slurping loudly.

“Were you special ops like him?” you asked. Colter shook his head.

“Civilian. Never had any formal training, just what we grew up with.” Well, that was an interesting statement. What the hell did it mean though? “Our father was a survivalist, taught us things.”

“Oh. My dad was a little out there too.” Was that why Russell was so adamant about helping you out of your situation? No. Maybe it played a part, but no. He’d wanted to help before you told him that. “Does Russell do this sort of thing often?”

“No clue. First time I talked to him in years was two days ago. I helped him find a friend of his. I was there when he got that bullet hole in him you fixed.”

Alrighty then. Russell was becoming more and more intriguing by the second. 

“So you don’t know a lot about him then,” you said. Colter shrugged.

“I guess I’m figuring him out too but he’s a good guy. He’s somebody you want as a friend.” You hummed, finishing your coffee off. Colter excused himself to get you more and returned with a fresh cup, steam billowing from within. 

“You trail run?” you asked, Colter’s eyes showing a flash of surprise. “Muddy sneakers by the door. I did cross country in school.”

“I try to get out most mornings. The hot water should be good to go in about five minutes if you want a shower.” 

“Thanks.” You licked your lips as you remembered the sight of him exiting the bathroom not long ago. Sure, Colter was hot but Russell…well the image of that man in nothing but a towel as water dripped down his body…You shifted in your seat, squeezing your legs together to try and get a hold of yourself. Colter smirked slightly in his seat. “What?”

“I’m good at reading people is all.”

“And? What am I saying?” you asked, staring him down. Colter only smiled as he looked away to the fire.

“You’re wondering if Russell works out and picturing him naked.” You glared at him but it did nothing to hide the heat radiating off your cheeks. “Hey, you’re a grown woman. You can do as you please.”

“I think I will take that shower now.” You stood and set the mug down on the ground, shooting Colter one last look. There’d been no malice or teasing in his voice. He was simply being straight with you. “Listen. I just…I haven’t exactly been around good guys much, or ever. I’m not saying there’s anything there beyond physical attraction, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, looking at you like you were the worst liar in the world. “Whatever you say.”

You grumbled and went inside to take a very cold shower.

Three Days Later - Spokane, Washington

“Hey, Colt,” you said, pushing up the long sleeves of Russell’s gray henley you wore. Colter hummed around the piece of grilled chicken in his mouth as you spun your laptop around from the other side of the airstream’s dining table. “Could she have gone here? Looks like a decommissioned game trail.”

“Yeah, yeah that fits,” he said with his mouth full, chewing and swallowing quickly so he could take a closer look. You returned to your own dinner, Colter mentioning he was going to take a look after dark. 

Things had fallen into an easy pattern with the two of you. Colter was very different than his brother but it wasn’t a bad thing. He didn’t talk much and worked as a rewardist. He’d planned on sticking around the east coast for when Russell met up with you again but an urgent case in Washington popped up. You’d spent most of the past three days driving cross-country behind Colter’s truck and the airstreamer, learning what the hell a rewardist was.

Colter had told you about the case at first to keep your mind off of Russell but you’d reluctantly taken an interest and now were deep in the weeds of helping him locate a missing young woman.

“You want to come look with me?” asked Colter, breaking you out of your train of thought. You blinked, a small smile on his face. “Come on. It’ll get you some experience with rewardest work and stop you from doom scrolling.”

“Alright,” you sighed. While you appreciated Colter’s attempts to make you feel better, you were starting to get very concerned. You hadn’t heard from Russell since you left your house a few days ago and there was nothing in the news about the local mafia members being killed. Or him.

Colter rubbed your back when you helped him unhook it from the airstream. He tended to do that when you started to get stressed out. He hadn’t been lying before. He really was good at reading people. 

“Colter,” you said in the dark truck, the hum of the vehicle quiet in the cab as he drove. “What if something happened to him and he needs our help?”

“He knows what he’s doing. A job like this, he’s got to do a lot of prep work and he’s got to put a crew together. Trusted friends. Try not to worry.” You bit your bottom lip as you stared out the window, trees passing by. 

If only it were that simple.

It was two in the morning by the time you and Colter made it back to the camping grounds. You’d found Martha in not too great of shape but she was alive and the doctors said she’d make a full recovery with time. Colter has tried to give you some of the reward money for helping but you hadn’t done all that much in your opinion. 

“Stay here,” he said when he turned the truck into your lot and you spotted a dark figure sitting by the fire. He took his gun from the back of jeans and got out, pausing halfway out the door. He smiled over at you and you caught the dark figure give an awkward little wave. “Should I tell him how much you’ve been worried?”

“Not. A. Word. Colter,” you said before hopping out and happily rushing over to where Russell rose to his feet. You didn’t realize you were giving him a hug until he was laughing, returning it and lifting you off the ground. 

“I missed my queen of darkness too,” he chuckled, setting you down with a smirk. You scoffed, Russell’s eyebrows raising at your attire. “Is that my jacket? And shirt?”

“Why waste the money on new stuff,” you shrugged, Russell grinning like an idiot. “Stop that.”

“I’m sure that was the reason.” Colter came over, the boys sharing a nod. “You keep my little delinquent out of trouble?”

“She’s a breeze,” said Colter, taking a seat. “Even helped with my latest case. She should try the rewardist thing. She’s good at it.”

“Maybe. All I want to know is am I good?” you asked. Russell took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He nodded, the tension running of out your body. “Thank you, Russell. Thank your friends too. I’ll pay you guys-”

“No payment. This was because you’re my friend, plain and simple. Just knowing you’re safe is more than enough.” You smiled, letting yourself rest your head against his shoulder. “You should rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“How-”

“In the morning. I need to catch up with my little brother.” You nodded, enjoying the feel of his heavy hand as it ran over your head. “Go sleep, Y/N. You’re exhausted.”

You reluctantly peeled yourself away and went inside to find your makeshift bed had been done up for you already. You didn’t even try to fight the flutters in your stomach when you spotted a yellow pajama shirt and shorts set neatly folded on top. There was a note beside it, a stupid ass smile finding it’s way onto your face.

Brand new. Imported from France. Don’t get used to fancy ass presents like these. I ain’t made of money. Even if these are soft as fuck and I totally wish they made these for men. I still think you’d look better wearing a band tee to bed.

Russ

P.S. They had a sale so I got you something else too. Check your backpack.

You shook your head and grabbed your bag from the floor, taking out a very elegant black bag. You undid the tissue paper and went wide eyed. 

Inside was a very, very, fancy black lace bra and multiple pairs of gorgeous bikini style undies in soft muted colors. There was another note waiting for you inside, your heart stilling.

No strings attached. Hopefully these will cover you for a little while until you can get settled again.

“Oh, Russell,” you said quietly, thumbing over the bag, smiling to yourself as your insides did very happy backflips.

He wasn’t just a pretty and protective face. He was thoughtful too.

And you were starting to fall for a guy that’d most likely be gone by this time tomorrow.

Fuck.

__________

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

[callikari]

90210 — park jongseong

SYNOPSIS — being young, rich, and in love is a full-time job. between shopping sprees on rodeo, overpriced smoothies at erewhon, and last-minute lunch plans in malibu, you and jay have perfected the art of luxury. in a city where money moves faster than traffic, the two of you reign as la’s golden couple—effortlessly stylish, endlessly unbothered, and always, always together.

PAIRING — park jongseong (jay) x fem!reader

GENRE(S) — fluff, romance, rich kids of beverly hills, luxury lifestyle, established relationship

WARNING(S) — ridiculous amounts of wealth, absurd spending, jay being a boyfriend you can only dream of, no real responsibilities

WORDCOUNT — 1.7k

AUTHORS NOTE — idk how to feel about this .... ALSO can u guys tell how much i NEED summa

jay has a hand on your thigh, thumb grazing the soft fabric of your vintage chanel mini dress as he drives down sunset boulevard in his black porsche. the windows are down, the la breeze tangling through your hair, and you’re sipping on an overpriced smoothie from erewhon—because what else would you be doing on a thursday afternoon?

“do you even like that?” he asks, glancing at the vibrant pink drink in your hands.

you shrug, taking another sip. “it’s pretty.”

he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he switches lanes effortlessly. “you just paid twenty dollars for aesthetics.”

“and?”

he smirks, squeezing your thigh before returning his hand to the wheel. “nothing, babe. just reminding myself why you’re perfect for la.”

—

by the time you reach rodeo drive, your phones are already buzzing. jake’s texting the group chat (where are you guys? rei just dropped an embarrassing amount at bottega), and sunghoon’s snap map location is hovering suspiciously close to cartier.

“bet he’s buying another watch,” jay muses, parking the car with the kind of ease only someone who’s been driving luxury vehicles since sixteen could manage.

you grin, adjusting your sunglasses as you step out onto the pristine sidewalk. “how many does he even have now?”

“too many,” jay mutters, wrapping an arm around your waist as you both stroll toward the boutiques.

inside chanel, rei is already modeling a matching tweed set in front of the mirror while sunoo gives her the harsh truth. “you already own, like, five of those.”

“yeah, but not in this shade,” she counters.

you pluck a classic black bag off the display, turning toward jay. “should i?”

he barely looks at it before nodding. “get it.”

“that was fast.”

“because you look good with anything.”

sunghoon appears then, holding a cartier bag, confirming jay’s earlier bet. “okay, who wants to do lunch? i’m thinking nobu.”

rei wrinkles her nose. “boring. let’s do georgio baldi.”

you exchange a look with jay, and without a word, he’s already pulling out his amex black card.

“get changed,” he tells you with a knowing smirk. “we’re going.”

—

you’re perched on jay’s lap in a malibu restaurant, your newly purchased chanel bag resting beside a half-empty glass of expensive wine. the ocean stretches endlessly before you, waves crashing against the shore, and the golden glow of the late afternoon sun makes everything feel even more unreal.

jay’s fingers trace idle patterns on your thigh, his other hand holding his wine glass. “thinking about something?”

you tilt your head, meeting his gaze. “just that we’re really them.”

he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “we always have been, baby.”

because at the end of the day, it’s not just about the money or the luxury—it’s about you and him. the golden couple. young, rich, and forever unbothered.

© callikari — all rights reserved

[chaosk1ng]

Small ideas of Eddie in DC

Finally watched Venom Last Dance last night and had a few crossover ideas. The lack of crossovers for him in DC saddens me so I am throwing this out there. I haven’t really thought of anything so it’s gonna be a short one but it’s a start and I’m okay with that.

So I know most of the time when there is anything Marvel x DC it’s usually Spider-Man (usually Tom Holland) and the Batfamily (who I will talk about) but putting Eddie in there instead is just funny to me. So this is in the perfect world where Venom doesn’t die in front of Eddie, now they have separation anxiety. Yippee!

So the first thing I want to talk about is the places and heros he can meet in their civilian identities because of his last job, which was as a journalist. In Metropolis? Clark, meet the new hire! Yes he looks like a mess and sometimes talks to himself, he’s a stray for god’s sake! It comes with the package! Diana, this mess of a man who looks like he’s about to break down wants to interview you. Please just do the interview so his stinky ass can leave the museum. Bruce, please for the love of god, you can’t hire him he will bring down this company. No you can’t pay him to interview you, he’s a mess not a charity case.

I can go on with this dude and the many ways he can meet the heros but let’s talk about Venom for a little. I think that regardless of who Eddie meets, if he meets the Justice League, or any hero in general, they are gonna be seen as a married couple or each other’s emotional support alien. I don’t care if they are shipped, they at the very least have a bromance because the second movie straight up started as a break up before they get back together. Some are gonna be concerned until someone tries to separate them, then it’s time for a feast and suddenly everyone is gonna be concerned.

I think if he ended up working with Clark, he would try to be friendly to Eddie which he appreciates but would probably damage some goodwill when he starts looking into him. I don’t think it would really harm their relationship since I think Eddie would understand Clark’s reasons for finding him and Venom and appreciate him trying to help and understand their situation but I don’t think he’d like them killing people, no matter how bad they are. So that’s the only real thorn in their friendship, otherwise I think the farm boy would be helping the poor disaster of a man back on his feet and back home.

I’m going onto Batman next mainly because of Jason and maybe Damian. So for Bruce, I think they’d meet because he decided to interview him, Bruce would immediately know something was wrong with this man and keep tabs on him which is the only relationship they would have if Venom didn’t need to eat. Bruce would know about the corpses left behind and hear about the new ‘citizen’ of Gotham, would be pretty hard to miss with it all over the news the first time it’s done. So Bruce puts two and two together and either gets 4 or some random other number because I do think he’d find out it’s Eddie but I think the idea of Bruce thinking of something 100 times worse is hilarious, and it is very possible with how paranoid and cautious that man is. If there is even the slightest chance Venom was like a virus or waiting for others to come to earth he will take it into consideration and find a way to prevent it. So it’s more of a one sided thing, Eddie could find out he’s Batman but would want nothing to do with him.

Now for the Jason and possibly Damian thing. I think Jason would be cool with Eddie, maybe friends because those two have no problem killing someone they think deserve it and I think that’s kind of what starts the friendship. Jason is likely gonna find out about the new arrival from either the news or the family but if Eddie ends up in Crime Alley I think Jason would be cautious at first. I feel like after a few encounters the two of them start their friendship and promptly piss off Bruce because Jason kinda keeps Eddie with him in Crime Alley so he can’t even get close. Last time he tried to see Eddie, Jason gave him a few warning shots. For the Damian part I imagine he tries to kill Eddie and Venom at first but eventually finds out about Venom using animals as hosts as seen in The Last Dance. If any of Damian’s animals, or animals in general, are compatible with Venom I think it’d upset Damian but once will eventually think it’s cool, especially if Venom tells him what the creatures thoughts are. He is very pleased to know his pets adore him, it’s the only reason he’s cool with the two and ever willingly talks to them (he just asks if they could see Venom with other animals).

For a little tidbit of the Batman side, I thought it’d be funny if Bruce or Jason had a thing for Eddie especially if they kill Joker. Jason in this situation would be absolutely pissed at Bruce because of his no kill rule getting ignored by the dude Bruce likes and letting him get away with it or being absolutely elated. Dawg is either gonna try and fight Bruce or judge him for having the rule since this wouldn’t even be the first time he had a thing for someone that kills and lets them get away from it unscathed. If Jason is the one with a thing for Eddie he is going to ask that man to either a) go on a date with him or b) ask to marry him, either way he is rubbing this in the others’ faces because the absolute garbage fire of a human being and his emotional support alien did the one thing he wanted that his family never did.

Next part I’m gonna talk about two of my boys, Billy and Constantine. I want Billy and Eddie to kinda latch on to each other because of different reasons, Eddie’s being ‘oh my god, this is a homeless child, what the actual fuck. Who’s child is this, if no one claims him I might actually listen to Venom and steal him.’ While Billy’s would be something like, ‘wowza a dude and his alien from another universe, that’s so cool, anyway I should probably help get them home.’ Both stick together, and with Eddie and Venom’s talk in the third movie there is a very real chance they decide to just stay to try and be parents, and as adorable that is I also think it’d be funny if this starts a wild goose chase of Billy trying to escape adoption while Eddie tries to watch over the kid, he would be hurt but Venom will not let this be so it’s mostly him forcing Eddie to chase after him.

For John, I mostly thought of him because he has fucked so many people and creatures alike. I am not over the fact he was with King Shark, but with this in mind the only reason I thought of him is because I do think he would try to sleep with them at least once. I feel the two of them would be drinking buddies though with them both being dumpster fires. If Venom was compatible with John I think he’d only ever go with him if something happened to Eddie that temporarily separated the two and was desperate for help protecting him. This would only happen after a while of them being friends or borderline friends because John would probably be the only person he would meet so far to trust so it would either be the first time John finds out about Venom or the first time they try it out. So if they were on the fringes of being friends then it would submit it though I can see both of them being in denial about that with their respective histories before going back to what they used to do but with the new title that they don’t acknowledge. Venom is not amused.

As previously stated, there is a very real chance John tries to sleep with Eddie but once again, romance is funny so we’re talking about this again. If John starts to get feelings for Eddie he is either going to be in much more denial or just confuse it with wanting to sleep with him, and if they ever do then that’s gonna be his ‘oh shit’ moment when he realizes that was part of what he was feeling but not even close to all of it. If Eddie discovers any romantic feelings for John it’s likely going to be because Venom wouldn’t stop pointing it out to him and would constantly joke around about it and try to force them to get together. Either way the shenanigans would be funny but also painful to see because they are both wreaks who do not think they deserve nice things, even if said things are equally as bad if not worse (they both have shitty taste in men).

Anyway that’s my rant, I disappear now.

[notenoughdramaaa]

If you don’t know me, I’m a specialist in oversharing. I grew up doing ballet, and my first (and only) job before college was at my aunt’s ballet studio. I often speak out about misconceptions in the ballet world and have some pretty severe critiques of the industry. So, I was thinking, what if I wrote all this down in a fic? Hear me out:

Regulus is a ballet dancer, cunning, ambitious, and trained in the strict Vaganova method at Bolshoi. So, you know he’s strong and flexible, with insane back arches. The kid is good and on his way to becoming a principal at either the Royal Academy of Ballet or the English National Ballet. It doesn’t really matter where, he’s on the rise. The only problem? He’s a twink. He doesn’t get those toned muscles easily, and that makes it harder for him to climb the ranks.

The choreographer hints that Regulus could land a solo role if he just looked more... manly, and believe me, this is a real thing in ballet. You’ll hardly see a principal male dancer who doesn’t look build. So, one night out with his brother, Sirius, Regulus admits that he needs to start weightlifting or something, and Sirius suggests he see his friend, James, a personal trainer. Desperate, especially since Regulus is already 25 and knows time is running out, he agrees to give it a shot.

Enter James Potter: 26, recently divorced, and completely smitten with Regulus from the moment they meet. He doesn’t stand a chance against Regulus’s tights and those tortured eyes. But Regulus can’t let himself get distracted. Time is ticking, and he has no room for anything, especially romance.

But James is impossible to resist, and before Regulus knows it, he’s already too far gone, lost in James’s charm. Soon, he’s cooking breakfast for James’s four-year-old son, Harry, while juggling his ballet career and the domestic life he didn’t know he wanted so badly.

[stradakiev]

Ok I’ll talk about it

I love this idea and agree with it soooooooo much and it’s my favorite Martha take ever

From Martha’s first story Smith and Jones she is figuring things out as if the doctor would without first seeing the doctor do it. She talks about how the windows aren’t exactly air tight and that there must be something keeping the air in. She figures out the genetic transfer, gets the Jadoon to catch the plasmavore, and brings the doctor back so he can fix the scanner. If you want to dig deeper with this episode the doctor is not introduced as his character he is John smith and Martha is studying to be a doctor. Foreshadowing she will play his role at the end of the season.

We don’t see much of this in the second episode because it her out of here element for real this time and she’s taking it in but still a very active character in the story.

Gridlock we get to see Martha separated from the doctor and kidnapped onto the highway. Martha is the one descending to the lower lanes and learning the stories of the sounds at the bottoms and putting the pieces together. It’s her quick thinking to turn the engines off to save them until the city was open by the doctor and they could drive up.

Daleks take manhattan and evolution of the daleks is when we see Martha start to boss the doctor around. Unlike other companions we’ve seem Martha spends a lot of her initial time traveling with the doctor actually away from him. When the doctor wants to just go off and see why the daleks changed their minds she asks if he’s just going to leave Hooverville to die. She is the one thinking of how to keep people alive like a doctor like the doctor. I like to think that the doctor hiding from the daleks behind Martha is symbolic of the doctor hiding from his grief and in many ways responsibilities and becoming more reckless while Martha holds things together.

The Lazarus experiment- the only part of this episode I want to focus on is the ending. The doctor suggests “one more trip” and she tells him she’s not going to keep doing it like that and that it’s either a full time passenger or good bye and the doctor agrees to it. Her being the one to have the power to chose to travel with him and be a full time companion makes her fulfill the role of the doctor as she decides who will be traveling in the tardis and he agrees like a companion typically does to an invitation.

42 her and the doctor are again apart for most of the episode and once the doctor has saved Martha he is possessed for the rest of the time while Martha cools his temperature and ejects the fuel from the sun saving both the day and the doctors life. So again companion doctor reversal once the doctor has saved her from imminent death.

Human nature and the family of blood- do I need to go into it? The doctor literally turns into a human and leaves everything up to Martha so she is the doctor for the episode and is the only one using the tardis (we’ve never seen her touch the console this much).

Blink- my man isn’t processing his grief with rose and now is separated from his ship. I can only imagine how much he was struggling. Martha was keeping them afloat with her job in the shop.

Utopia and the sound of drums!!! You can see Martha this whole episode just process more and more how poorly she’s been treated by the doctor by the way he interacts with jack and the stories of rose. She moves the story around narratively with the watch which. From here to where he family is kidnapped in the next episode (and we get the iconic scene of her yelling at the doctor) she is transforming herself through her actions until when she finally uses the vortex manipulator (the first type of time travel she has used by herself) she becomes the doctor.

Last of the time lords Martha is fully acting in the doctor role walking the whole worlds by herself without a weapon spreading a message of home. Her message is the doctor but in that moment she is the doctor. She embodies everything he is while he is removed from having control in the story.

I think the sound of drums/last of the time lords is Martha’s version of dark water/death in heaven. Martha is a lot more emotionally healthy than Clara and also has a live she has dreams for on earth so she chooses to leave. Martha has to cope with the consequences of becoming the doctor so she becomes a unit soldier I think to cope with how she has changed fundamentally but it also nicely brings those two lives together for our successful Queen. Whereas Clara becomes the doctor and no longer has anything or any dreams connecting her to earth to she toxically spirals out until she dies and then becomes not human so we love our toxic queen too

So basically I like to call season 3 the season the doctor was numbing his grief with reckless decisions, straight up not existing, and he’s classic running from it with adventures bc they have a savior complex. He got away with falling apart this much for a whole season bc Martha is a queen and held shit together.

Clara becomes the Doctor but can we talk about how Martha is also the Doctor. Besides being an actual doctor, she also becomes a soldier and tries to justify it to herself. She went through hell and saved the earth and bore that weight alone, and was never thanked for it. In the Doctors Daughter she is forced to watch as her Hath "companion" sacrifices themself for her and dies horribly, and she has to leave them behind. Is this thing on

[nextstopwonderland]

(I put an abridged version of this untagged on my blog but honestly i need to give it a longer tagged write-up)

So Yuta saw this side of my sign before his match against Willie Mack at the Oakland Collision:

while he was looking at the hard cam (which is where I was front row with @sonnykissed) and yelled “he’s DEAD he’s DEAD” right at me to which I think I cursed my head off at him idk I go into automatic when it comes to Bryan and slander and also Yuta being a shit post-murder.

(Watching it back now here’s what the camera caught: here’s the tail-end of him yelling ‘DEAD’ while I point at him and wave the sign and say ‘fuck you!’ I’m pretty sure 🤣)

So I’m randomly waving the sign during the match at times while also trying to update y’all on things

He does I have till 5 which I mostly miss and then once again curse him the fuck out (while apparently Nigel on comm also calls him out for it and also for Bryan ( thanks for that info @shes-a-voodoo-child)

When I listened back Nigel said “people questioned Yuta, I questioned Yuta when Moxley forced him to do what he did to Bryan Danielson” and then “I have till 5 an oft repeated phrase from the American Dragon Bryan Danielson, again Wheeler Yuta reveling on the fact that he was the one that caused the end Bryan Danielson’s career, at least for the time being.” AT LEAST FOR THE TIME BEING. do you miss your dragon Nigel? Do you know something? Are you gonna visit him in Napa while he’s on child and chicken duty before Sacramento and plot a revolution return? (A girl can dream okay)

So then Mox comes. I try to get him to see my sign but he doesn’t. He tries to brainwash Yuta into “finishing the job” and I yell over and over “don’t do it don’t do” (at that point we didn’t know he was telling him to take out cope on weds we thought he just wanted him to take out Mack which also happened) I can definitely hear myself screaming in the clip although none of the words are clear I’m sure I’m sure I’m booing and calling him a piece of shit among other things

But then I watch him in the ring stroke that briefcase, like lovingly stroke it and I see emotion on his face, real emotion and I’m like oh shit, What’s happening here? An Actual Yuta conflicted character arc after so long with legit nothing?

And my first thought as he stroked that briefcase that way was what was inside it. And the last time he ever saw what was inside it. And who was wearing it. And who it belonged to.

And I know for sure he was thinking of it, too. In fact it was pointed out to me by @extracurriculargrief that the last time he ever even touched the belt was this moment:

Was that going through his head?

So he’s leaving the ring and I’m still kinda pissed at him for doing mox’s dirty work even while realizing he could now be Going Through It and I start screaming “THINK ABOUT IT YUTA!!” while waving the still missing Bryan Danielson part of my sign. The same part he dismissed to me earlier.

(Apparently I can be seen on camera yelling at him on the fite feed. I have not been able to find the fite feed yet.)

And he’s standing by the ring post and turns to look at me while I repeat it over and over and he is staring at me, staring at the sign, solemn and serious and I can see his eyes because he moved his hair during that whole emotional moment and he says to me “I will. I will. I will” while nodding and still clutching that briefcase to his chest, still totally and fully in character.

And I nod to him and I think I smile a small sad smile, just completely overcome, and then I collapsed into @sonnykissed because that emotionally drained me and YEAH folks

Never expected to contribute to the death riders storyline (especially when I’d all but given up on them actually continuing the Yuta part of it in terms of Bryan) but here we are

Here we are. I have no idea what will happen here:

I’m going to the sacramento show and I was already planning to bring the same sign (but to update the days) but now I’m pretty sure I’m also going to update it with words coming out of the sad dragon’s mouth. He’ll be saying “think about it Yuta.”

[razorblade180]

Home Sick

[inn room]

Stelle:*walks in* I’m back…

Dan Heng:Find anything entertaining for yourself?

Stelle:I am entertainment.*lays down* What I found was fleeting distraction. Emphasis on fleeting. *hands over face*

Dan Heng:Are…Are you okay? You’re not your typical playful self. Even when you’re doing work.

Stelle:…I hate it here.

Dan Heng:What?

Stelle:I said I hate Amphoreus. *sits up* The conflicts, the betrayals, the senseless death and uncertainty. Not to mention I got a dose of memories about someone I thought I hate! Let’s not forget, all these grand mechanisms and yet nothing to get in contact with the Express! The others probably saw us get shot for all we know! What if-

Dan Heng grabs her by the shoulders, causing her to flinch. She didn’t even notice he had gotten so close, or the obvious look of concern on his face. Stelle looked down at her hands to find them trembling.

Stelle:Hehe…been awhile since I’ve this worn out. *tearing up* I’m loosing my head.

Dan Heng:I’ve never seen you look like this to begin with.

Stelle:That’s what happens when you stay on the train while people start dying in a dream. Caelus and Himeko had to calm me down. Maybe I should’ve followed your example for once and stayed behind? I…I really miss those two right now. Same with March and Welt.

Dan Heng:…I miss them too.

Stelle:I’m sorry you’re stuck here with me of all people. *covers face* Caelus is far better at planning ahead between the two of us. Here I am, leading the charge into battles like always but I can’t begin to make heads or tails of the bigger picture. It’s so exhausting!

Dan Heng:You’re not doing this alone.

Stelle:I’m not doing any of it! That’s the issue! *looks at him* Before we knew it, the two of us bound and headed towards execution as means for someone else’s agenda; my gut knew something was off but in the end we-

Dan Heng: Outwitting Lady Aglea isn’t something either of us were prepared for. Let’s not forget, we are on an unknown planet having to learn everything as things develop. Playing it by ear is all we can do, and we’ve both been doing a pretty good job in my opinion.

Stelle:How can you still be so level headed despite everything?

Dan Heng:You make it easy. Even if I were used to be sociable, I’m nowhere near as captivating and genuine as you are. You and March have that quality in spades. Though between you and I, you’re the bolder one. I doubt she’d roll with the punches as well as you do.

Stelle:Yeah well, that’s what happens when you take most of the fighting requests instead of management. Kinda regretting it though. *wipes tears* Maybe I shouldn’t have put so many management tasks off onto Caelus. It’s so weird; being away from him this long has really worn me out. I wonder if he’s feeling the same?

Dan Heng:Perhaps since the two of you are connected, being apart is having some sort of impact we weren’t aware of.

Stelle:To be honest, I’m just an anxious person at heart. I just also happen to be incredibly funny so nobody notices.

Dan Heng:Funny is…one way to describe your personality.

Stelle:Heh. Dan Heng, I’m really glad you’re here. Although if I’m being real, seeing you freak out would make me feel like I’m not losing my mind. This place is crazy.

Dan Heng:Hehe, well I’m not sure what your definition of “freaking out” would look like, but I’ll admit it, you might find what you’re looking for if I don’t get to sleep under a night sky soon. It’s far too bright here for my liking. *smiles* We’ll get through this and see everyone again.

Stelle:Thanks. I…know you’re not much of hugger, but-

His arms wrap around her without a second thought. Stelle immediately does the same to him, firmly holding onto Dan Heng as a shaky breath leaves her lungs. He might’ve hugged her for as long as she needed to, but Stelle still chose to end the embrace first.

Stelle:I probably look like shit right now, don’t I?

Dan Heng:You look like a Trailblazer charting the course. Get some rest. When you wake up we can eat; maybe find some distraction together until it’s time for the next step.

Stelle:Sounds like a plan. Night, or I guess, see you later. You’re right. Constant daylight sucks.

Dan Heng:Hehe, perhaps it’s stopped you from getting proper rest too? Goodnight, Stelle.

She lays back down, her body feeling a little lighter than before and her eyelids a lot heavier. Dan Heng returns to his favorite spot on the balcony. He can’t help but sigh. Genuine was the right word to describe Stelle. It’s not that he hid his worries better. Far from it. He simply wasn’t as expressive about the sheer chaos unfolding. Still, what he said wasn’t a lie either. He had full confidence in their ability to persevere and reunite with everyone. Whenever that may be.

Dan Heng:I hope all of you are fairing better than we are.

xxxxx

Outside of a sleeping young woman’s frigid room, Caelus sat with his back against the cold metal door as he stared off into the stars towards Amphoreus. At this point, the unknown felt more inviting than the idling he was forced to do. Still, he would wait to lend a hand. It could be for March’s sake, his far off friends, or both. Regardless, he would do his best and wait.

Caelus:Stay strong everyone.