#it's like they don't take the job serious

[syoddeye]

sliding scale

You're in need of a handyman. He has needs of his own. cw: discussion of kids/pregnancy, john price inserting himself into your life, heavily implied breeding kink, unsettling and smutless (my brand)

You win the jackpot. Okay. Not the jackpot, but you're hit by a respectable windfall. It's like a cheesy movie you'd watch around the holidays: A distant relative dies, you receive a very serious letter, and suddenly, your account isn't as sad as it once was.

So, you do the impossible. The unthinkable. You buy a house.

An old, well-loved house from an elderly couple.

The day you close, they tell you about raising their kids in the house and mention the names etched on the door frame. When you arrive home that evening, the empty house feels grand and hollow, but there they are, just where they said. Names climbing upward in uneven increments, faded with time, but legible. You trace your finger along the marks, imagining small hands and the measuring tape, the years slipping by. It makes you smile, despite yourself.

You've never wanted kids, not really, but the thought of this, people leaving bits of themselves behind—it makes you mushy. You figure, once the dust settles, you'll let rooms to friends, maybe friends of friends. Start a fun little commune of sorts, a collective of people coming and going.

The first night, you drink nonalcoholic wine straight from the bottle and lie on your mattress on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. There's no furniture yet, just your overnight bag and the smell of fresh paint from a patch you tested on the living room wall. You fall asleep smiling. The house needs a lot of work, but you're not worried. Some TLC and elbow grease can go a long way.

Over the next few weeks, you move in and start working. Anything is possible with the power of YouTube tutorials and the local tool library.

You start in the primary bedroom and bathroom, learning to tile, install flooring, and connect plumbing for the perfect vanity and sink you found at a thrift store. It feels good to learn how things fit together and see the fruits of your labor. At night, you sleep in one of the old kid's rooms. The wallpaper is covered in rockets and planets. A couple of glow-in-the-dark stars cling to the ceiling.

The bathroom comes together wonderfully, and you feel invincible.

But then you get to the kitchen.

After an outlet zaps you, you decide you may be in over your head. That there really is a limit to what one person can do on their own. You start looking up local contractors, but everything is out of your budget. You've been doing all the work yourself for a reason. Then, after digging for ages, you find a promising lead: John Price - Handyman - Sliding Scale.

On the phone, John seems normal. Charming. Funny. He tells you he's impressed you bought a house on your own. (You've heard that a lot lately, and while it feels patronizing, you let it go. You did jump up a band upon inheriting your chunk of Great Uncle Leroy's money.) He agrees to come by and see what he can do.

You have to admit he makes a good impression when he shows up. He's punctual, polite, and looks the part. Broad chest, thick arms, big hands resting on his hips as he surveys the kitchen. After only a few minutes, he says he'll take the job. No hesitation.

You explain your tight budget and that you'll work alongside him when you're not at your day job. You show him the money you've set aside, expecting him to back out, but he just shakes his head and nudges the folder back across the table.

"Said I'd do it. Don't you fret, darl."

You vet him afterward, just to be sure. His references check out. The reviews are solid. He appears to know a little about everything. You text him to confirm, formally offering the job, and he accepts.

On the first day, you let him in and immediately have to avert your eyes. You didn't realize a toolbelt could look like that on someone. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his forearms, and the way he moves—confident, purposeful—makes you grateful you're heading out to work. You tell him when you'll be back and leave quickly, gripping the steering wheel tighter than usual thinking about the hunk of man in your house.

When you return, the kitchen looks different, unfinished, but vastly improved. John's already fixed things you didn't think could be fixed. Over lunch, he even scoped out other problems around the house: a crack in the basement wall, a loose board on the stairs, and spots where the flooring must be replaced. He gushes about the house, praising its character, the way it's held up over time.

John's face grows serious, and stares down his nose when he finally asks, "You're not gonna ask me to paint over the wood or rip out the built-in hutch, are ya?"

His relief over your answer is palpable: No. That's why you bought the house in the first place. You describe what you love about it: the glass doorknobs, the dining room archway, and transom windows above the doors. He nods. He knows exactly what you mean.

Before he leaves for the day, he stops at the doorframe and points to the tallest name etched into the wood. You explain it belonged to the previous owners, a family with seven kids.

"Seven," he repeats, eyebrows raised.

"Right? Can you believe that? Seven!" You laugh. Frankly, anything more than two sounds insane. 

But John doesn't laugh. He stares at the names for a moment, his jaw tight. "Yeah. Difficult to imagine."

After he leaves, you scold yourself. You don't really know John. You've known him for all of a day. What if he came from a big family? Or what if he doesn't speak to his family anymore, if things are complicated with his parents? You feel awful, and the guilt channels itself into stress-baking.

The next morning, when he shows up, there's a platter of breakfast pasties waiting on the counter. He hesitates, looks almost bashful, until you insist. He takes a bite, then another, and looks at you with genuine astonishment. He says if you leave food like this every morning, he'll knock his rate down even further.

It makes sense, financially speaking, so you agree. You start making breakfast for two, and in return, he keeps the repairs affordable. The ritual becomes routine: John shows up every weekday morning, you eat together, he gets to work, and you leave. You look forward to seeing him. Hearing his voice rumble out good mornings and goodnights.

For two weeks, you come home to find steady progress on the kitchen. You help him out for an hour or two in the evenings, and by the time it's nearly finished, you've started discussing other parts of the house.

You mention the two smallest children's rooms aren't really usable for tenants. You show him your plans to knock down the wall between them and create a library or office space.

But this time, John doesn't agree.

"First I'm hearing of this," He leans back in his chair at your table. His arms cross over his chest, legs spreading wide. Even sitting, you see what he's doing. Trying to take a posture that carries authority, to cow you. "Tenants? What about a family?"

You try to steer the conversation back to your plans, to the picture you've sketched. "I'm not planning on having one. So, like I was saying—"

"Why buy a house this big, then? Why spend all this time fixin' it up if you're not planning to honor its legacy?"

The tone of his voice shifts completely, with no trace of the easy, flirty banter that's been your norm for weeks. His words drip with disdain. His brow knits together. Nostrils flaring. He looks genuinely upset. Mystified that you're not going to fill the house with your…your brood.

It's as if your refusal to have children is an affront to him personally. 

It sends a chill down your spine. Instantly, your image of him—this dependable, good-humored man—cracks apart. You glance past him, searching for the right words, and focus on the kitchen instead. The cabinets, the fixtures, the paint. All of it bears his mark now, and it leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

The realization settles like a stone in your stomach. You can't keep working with him. Not if your plans for the house, your house, are going to be a problem.

You tell him as much, as gently as possible.

His anger bleeds out of him quickly, melting into embarrassment and shame. His shoulders drop, and he folds into himself in a way that seems almost impossible for someone his size. "Don't know what came over me, darl."

He packs up his tools while apologizing again, both for his outburst and for the unfinished work, and gives you the spare key you lent to him for emergencies. Before he leaves, he asks you not to write a review, not even a positive one, and you agree. Things had been good until now. You don't want to ruin him over this. People have bad days.

With the kitchen functional and nothing too big left on your plate, you cut your losses and decide to finish the work alone.

Progress is slow on your own, of course. One pair of hands, only so many hours after work to chip away at the list after work. Still, time moves faster than you expect. You push through exhaustion, head often swimming, and work late into the evenings. One night, you finish patching the floor and tackle the basement's cracked wall. Only when you get down there, it's already done. Smoothed over perfectly.

You tell yourself John must've fixed it before everything went south. But then you notice other things. Several odd jobs from your list are already complete.

Squeaky door hinges turn silent. The dings and nail holes in the walls, spackled over. The second toilet that kept running starts working correctly. It's partly a relief, like the house is taking care of itself, but also deeply unsettling. You don't remember doing it, you've never sleepwalked or slept-repair in your life, even in your overtired state, and you're still too sore over your falling out to text John and ask if he did it all.

Instead, you decide to take a break. A few days off work, a proper rest. Let the house settle, let yourself breathe. Nothing happens. No floating tools. No ghosts. It's like the house is waiting for you to look away.

Paranoia sets in. You order cameras—indoor and outdoor, enough to cover every angle.

The day they arrive, you barely make it through the door before tearing open the box. But something stops you. Your eyes catch on a strange wooden box sitting on the dining table. It's a shadowbox.

Inside the box is the slat from the front doorframe, the one with the heights and names of the seven kids who grew up here. It's been cut out, perfectly, and framed like an artifact.

Your stomach drops. You scramble to the doorframe and run your hands over it, frantic. The patchwork is seamless, so clean it's like the names never existed.

Then you notice the boots. Tucked in and lined up next to your own pairs. The extra jacket hanging on the hooks.

A shadow falls over you.

You freeze, heart in your throat, and slowly turn with eyes the size of dinner plates. Towering above you, sleeves rolled to his elbows, fists planted on his hips, is John. Grinning.

"Work alright today?" He bends down and pulls you to your feet by your wrist, wrapping you up in an embrace and welcoming you home. He sways slightly with you, like you're dancing, his chest rising and falling against yours. He looks at you with a clear fondness and affection, but there's something off, like a splintering foundation. Stable until you look too close.

You try to push yourself away, palms flat against his chest, but he doesn't let go. "What are—What are you doing here? What are—Why did you do that?" You glance again toward where the measurements used to be.

He chuckles, soft and unbothered, a wistfulness threaded in his words. "Well, we're gonna need the room for our little ones, yeah? Oh, we'll have seven or more, dependin' on what takes. Sliding scale and all that."

At your stunned, horrified silence, he slots a hand into the back pocket of your jeans. He gives your cheek a little squeeze and starts steering you toward the kitchen. The one he built for you.

"C'mon. Lemme tell you all about my plans for us."

[icecream4starscream]

Spoiler Warning for Transformers One. Please go see the film, it's great.

Something occurred to me when rewatching Elita-1's firing scene:

Right off the bat, she's presented as an absolute unit in the mines. We see her being a very by-the-book character. She's incredibly competent, strong, serious, focused, and an effective leader.

Maybe a little too effective.

We learn that Sentinel goes out of his way to personally take care of any "anomalies" in his system and does so in a way where the blame always gets shifted away from him.

It's why he personally went to see Pax and D-16 after the Iacon 5000 race. He makes himself out to be the open-minded, compassionate leader he's been parading as.

When Darkwing throws Orion and D-16 into sub-level 50, neither bot suspects Sentinel for their demotion. In fact, they beg Darkwing to talk to Sentinel so he can sort out the "misunderstanding".

It's later confirmed that Sentinel never had any intention of talking with Orion or D-16 after their first meeting. When Orion reunites with his fellow miners later in the film, they mention that Sentinel put out a statement saying that they both died from "racing injuries".

Sentinel might've not even openly ordered Darkwing to dispose of them. Darkwing might've been manipulated into thinking everyone was mocking him for losing the race (thanks to lowly miners) making him want to get rid of them.

Subconsciously manipulating someone like Darkwing would've been easy for Sentinel.

Sentinel clearly does not tolerate anyone rising above the station he imposes on them.

So what does this have to do with Elita-1 being fired?

We see her rigidly following the rules, meeting all quotas, running a tight and efficient crew. She's doing her job as a miner, a role unknowingly forced upon her by Sentinel, perfectly.

Shouldn't Sentinel be happy about that?

Well sure...

If Elita wasn't actively trying to get promoted.

We don't get a lot of information about how promotion works in TFOne's mining system, but we do know that in other iterations of pre-war Cybertron, one of the only ways miners could rise out of the mines was by participating in ridiculously difficult gladiatorial fights in Kaon's pits.

In other iterations, this was how D-16/Megatron was able to escape his station and how he grew to be so strong.

So basically, whatever version you look at, the miners are told "if you work really, reeeeally hard, and do your job perfectly, and don't die in the process (which, odds are, you will) you might, MIGHT get a chance to get out of the caste you were born into."

It's BS.

It's an impossible feat. No one is actually supposed to be able to achieve that goal, but it's the metaphorical carrot dangling in front of the work mules so they don't notice the ever-tightening rope around their necks.

But every so often there's someone extraordinary, like Elita, who actually manages to meet this impossible standard and with whom it becomes increasingly difficult to deny this coveted promotion.

So what can Sentinel do about bots like Elita-1?

Simple.

Wait for a screw-up.

It must happen eventually.

A member of Elita's team, Orion Pax, in clear violation of evacuation protocol, goes back into the mines to save Jazz from getting crushed to death.

Despite managing to escape, the closing mine causes a tunnel support to be flung into nearby machinery (which doesn't look critical and could probably be easily fixed).

Then, right the heck outta nowhere, Darkwing drops in, SECONDS AFTER THE INCIDENT JUST HAPPENED, and immediately fires Elita.

No "What happened?" or "Who's responsible?" or "The supervisor wants to see you", he just pops into the scene and demotes Elita, arguably one of the best workers in the mine, to a bottom-tier waste management position.

As if he'd been on standby, actively waiting for a reason to fire her.

"But Elita herself wasn't the one who screwed up!"

Doesn't matter.

"But she told them to follow protocol!"

Doesn't matter.

"But Orion admitted he was the one at fault!"

Doesn't matter.

"But a bot was saved! Jazz would've died!"

Does. Not. MATTER.

Her firing is presented as the typical "one character says thing won't happen then thing immediately happens" joke, but given how so much thought went into so much of TFOne's background details, I can't help but wonder if this was a hint to how broken the system was and how it was always rigged in a way that ensures the miners will never get out.

Not to mention, once Orion, D-16, and Jazz safely escape, she chews Orion out by saying, "If I get fired for this..." meaning this abrupt, out-of-nowhere, baseless firing is absolutely typical.

That's what makes Elita's "I'm better than you" speech to Orion that much more meaningful, because in many ways, she is better than him.

She's a better worker, better fighter, better at completing the task at hand, better at making sure things run smoothly. She is, ironically enough, an efficient and perfectly-running machine.

But had Orion not dragged Elita to the surface, she probably would've spent her whole life obediently following the rules, never questioning why things were the way they were. She was so focused on rising up within the system that she could never look beyond it.

Elita might be the cog by which other cogs turn.

But Orion is the spark that shows them a better way.

That's why he was given the Matrix.

[alchemistc]

Found this in my drafts and decided to finish it up, written before the Abby reveal so we're just pretending that never happened, have some outsider pov of the alt timeline where Tommy and Buck met before Buck was at the 118.

Tommy is being weird. That's the only way Hen can describe it. He's been quiet on calls, none of the usual banter and posturing she's used to; he's been quiet in the station, prone to staring at the space between his lap and the dinner table even as Chim spouts off some ironic quote that would have had him cheesing it up a few weeks previous; he's been quiet as he packs his shit and heads out for his truck. Each afternoon since he'd quietly announced his transfer to the 217, he's been quiet, and it's weird.

Hen's not entirely surprised. Tommy's nothing if not protective of his own feelings - years and years of Gerrard all hanging over their heads even though he'd admitted a few drinks deep one night that he was pretty positive his professionally scathing complaint about Gerrard was very likely what tipped the scales ("Could have been Sal's, though," he'd said with a shrug as his eyes drifted to the head on his beer.). From what she's gleaned off Chim, there's a good chance he'd been an ass in part to protect himself from feeling too bad about losing someone, too (again) - not that that's any type of excuse for the shit he'd had a hand in putting her through. An excuse for the things he's said, in the heat of the moment, in the quiet caverns of life under a shitty captain.

(Stumbled apologies, serious expressions on a face softened only by the shots he'd been buying all night, words said and unsaid between them and the gaping maw between a Chim happy to accept and move on while Hen downed her tequila and waited for the other shoe to drop.)

It's been years since then. Years and years winding between them all, a dozen captains and more than a few transfers of good firefighters away from the 118, and something good and warm and special brewing in their house with the arrival of the captain who'd made family dinners a daily occurrence.

She'd sort of expected Tommy might finally open up, when those family dinners kept going and Nash kept staying and things started to settle into something closer to friendly instead of the soldiers of war camaraderie they'd grown so used to. And maybe he has, to someone who isn't Hen - who'd taken his little efforts to change at face value and refused to put in more work than that for a colleague who'd made mostly bare minimum efforts post-Gerrard, always accepting the new status quo, refusing to make waves. She respects Tommy. Trusts him on the job, and sometimes off of it when they've had a shitty shift and need to decompress before they go home to the people in their lives who can never really understand losing someone to the heat of a fire, to blood loss and blunt force trauma. Doesn't care for him the way Chim seems to, doesn't really desire a closer relationship than the one they've maintained through the turnover of captains and the 48's they pull on occasion.

But Tommy's being weird, and Hen's pretty sure she's the only one who sees it.

She waits until she's sure Chim has a date to hit up Tommy for an after shift drink, and his eyes crinkle around the corners in suspicion because he knows just as well as she that she's putting them in an awkward position without the buffer zone of an extra coworker to fill in the blank spots of the things they don't say to each other. He'll be gone in a week. There's not a single fucking reason for her to try to get to know him better now.

"Sure thing, Wilson," he says, and when he offers to drive them both Hen makes up some excuse about needing her car in case of some Denny related emergency.

---

She expects it to take a while. Ply him with a few drinks, figure out what it is about Howie that always puts Tommy at ease so quickly when they're out like this and try to replicate it - he keeps things close to the vest but Hen has ways of weaseling things out of people once she's got them where she wants them.

Tommy sighs and picks at the label on his bottle. Thins his lips, and stares at her sideways. "I'm seeing someone," he says, in an undertone, and Hen hasn't even taken her first sip from the bottle he'd ordered for her, too, while she scrounged up one of the smaller booths. His eyes dart, like he's checking to make sure no one else is listening, that no one here recognizes him, and Hen - Hen knows that look. She just can't square that look with Mr. Toxic Heterosexuality himself.

Hen takes a sip. Forces herself not to vibrate out of her own skin because - because - because she's gotta wait this shit out. Could be he's found himself attracted to some weird goth chick, or a woman with meat on her bones, in which case he's in for a big ole smack to the head or one of the looks she reserves for when the boys get a little too caught up in their locker room talk.

He darts his gaze up. Meets hers, steady on, for the first time in...weeks, actually, now that she's thinking about it, and the guilt there in his eyes sure is something to behold.

"He's younger," Tommy says, and Hen rolls her tongue over her teeth so she doesn't do something stupid like hone in on that pronoun with either glee or full-on righteous anger.

Hen narrows her eyes instead, and is surprised that he keeps her gaze. She's expecting - unnecessary contrition, or maybe a ducked head or excuses. He chews on the inside of his lip and chuffs out a self deprecating laugh.

"I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing and he still lives in a frat house."

Hen's mind goes somewhere inappropriate, and she has to stop herself from making a truly horrible hand gesture because he can't possibly mean -

He rolls his eyes. "I know where to stick it, Wilson, that's not the issue."

She has about half a million questions queueing - things she's not sure they're close enough to ask, things she doesn't actually want the answer to but stick there in the back of her mind anyway, things she'd never ask someone who'd been kind to her from the outset. "How'd you do it?" he asks, and Hen remembers the way he'd stood, arms crossed and face blank and something sad and vulnerable in his face while she lectured from her red and chrome pulpit. Jesus. He's known. He's known a while.

"I've never exactly been passing," she tells him, and winces at the aggression in her voice, in that statement, in the very existence of the idea. He shoots her a bitchy look that's far more familiar, in line with their normal dynamic. It has her rolling her shoulders back, has her sitting up a little more in her seat. "Is that - are you asking me how to come out?"

Tommy shrugs. Tips his head. "You're the one who wanted to get drinks."

"And if I hadn't asked?"

She knows the answer. The dumbass would have transferred out of the 118 with no one the wiser. Probably fallen off all the group chats, squared with himself for however long it took, decided one way or another who to tell from there. But he's here now, talking to Hen. Telling Hen, the person he's probably the least close to.

Hen sighs. Takes a longer drag off her beer this time while Tommy folds up a piece of the label he's ripped off. She's not gonna be his fucking gay guru. They're not anywhere approaching that close.

He could have lied, though, is the thing. Seems like he's maybe been lying for a while, if the uncharacteristic fidgeting is anything to go by. She knows him under stress, knows him when he's walking through literal fire. Figurative fire is an entirely different matter. She doesn't know that Tommy.

The words that fall out of her mouth aren't the ones she's aiming for. "You and Sal." she says, and then bites down the rest of that sentence like it'll burn them both. His eyes dart up. He shifts in his seat.

"The only reason I'm saying a word is because the answer is no," he says, and - yeah that's fair. Everyone has the right to come out of the closet in their own fucking time.

"So this kid," Hen says, moving on, and - oh. There's that look. It's a little dreamy-eyed, the way he's been getting sometimes when he's looking down at his phone and trying his hardest to keep a straight face. "What's the deal there?"

"He's new," Tommy says, and Hen can feel her brow tic up of it's own accord, because he says it with the authority of someone who isn't new. Hen has to wonder exactly how many times the perpetually single Tommy joke had been made while Tommy was less than single. God, that had to have stung, hadn't it? "He's - apparently he didn't realize he was flirting until I kissed him about it."

That's remarkably brave for a man who isn't out to a single person he and Hen are mutually acquainted with. At least as far as she knows - Chim can't keep a secret to save his damn life so at least she knows he doesn't know.

"You know you didn't have to tell me any of this."

His expression is wry. He bites his lip, curls his tongue over his teeth, shakes his head like he's clearing cobwebs. "The transfer isn't the only thing I had on the docket for major life changes."

Karen's gonna be pissed if Hen doesn't get the dirt, she tells herself as she leans forward, so she throws a teasing edge to her voice as she quirks a brow. "This life change have anything to do with your baby gay or is that just a natural progression of the coming out process?"

Tommy's posture eases, just a little. He gives her a look that she's more familiar with seeing when Chim's in the booth next to him, or they're elbow deep in shit-talk at the station.

"Happy accident, actually," he says, and Hen leans in to listen to him dish when his eyes go all soft and gooey.

___

She's known Evan Buckley a total of six hours the first time he mentions his boyfriend. There's a nervous edge to it, like he's still testing the word out, like the syllables are unfamiliar, and he glances down at the phone in his lap right after he says it, like he's double checking something. Hen wouldn't have pegged him for it, for all that she tends not to make assumptions. It's just. He's so.

Hen shoves back against the stereotypical bullshit and throws him a bone, because he looks like he's fucking desperate to share information on the fact that someone cares enough about him to let him call them his boyfriend. She lobs a layup, something relatable about 'my wife, Karen'.

"Yeah, Tommy said you were married."

Hen pauses. Wonders if she can turn her head like an owl so that she doesn't have to shift her weight to look behind her at where Buck is happily washing dishes, elbow-deep in sudsy water. There's no one else up here with them - most of the shift is working off dinner downstairs.

"We never have meals like this at home, I'm lucky if the guys I live with don't steal my last packet of ramen before I can get to it," he'd said, and she remembers Tommy grinning at the memory of this Evan he'd been seeing being inordinately impressed by the fact that Tommy could grill a steak. ("Jesus, Kinard, are you sure you're not robbing the fucking cradle?")

Hen shifts. Eyes him a little more carefully as he turns his head to meet her gaze, and - holy shit, she's actually feeling a little protective of Tommy Kinard right now. "He know you're out here sharing his business?" It's not the tone she's going for - admonishing instead of exploratory, but Buck just grins at her over his shoulder, like he's pleased Tommy has someone watching out for him. Shit. She'd been a little concerned that Tommy was in over his head, stuck up on the idea of being out out and clinging to the first boy that batted his lashes, but it feels like maybe there's more to it than that. She can't square that with what has to be at least a decade of years between them, but -

Love is love, and all that.

"We, uh. We've been talking about it."

Hen raises an eyebrow, because that's not actually a green light to air Tommy's business.

"He - well last night we talked about it again. So. I mean it's not like Facebook official or anything. But he said it was cool to talk to you. A-all of you. He's - everyone at Harbor knows me."

It hurts a bit to know that Tommy's been there less than six months and felt more comfortable being himself with a bunch of strangers, but...

It's good. That he has that. That he's not walking the world just shoving bits and pieces of himself away.

Hen watches him rinse his arms and square his shoulders and shift to face her. "How'd you two meet, anyway?" she asks, because Tommy had been so stuck on the trying to figure out how to have an honest relationship piece that she'd never gotten around to asking.

Buck's expression could be easily mistaken for a solar flare, for the way it lights up the whole loft.

[wtfaniii]

Thank you for all your support in the first part of this one shot! Here I bring you the second one as you requested, I hope you like it💗

Paparazzi

Part 1 // Part 2

Summary: A private detective that Gi-hun had hired to investigate those games he participated in three years ago, is taken against her will without knowing that a certain man with power and money knew absolutely every detail about her.

Warning: Some harassment, angst and violence.

Note: I'm open to special requests and constructive criticism! Sorry for the delay with this second part but I just got back to college and have been a little busy.

—I'm sorry for hitting you like that.

As they walked back to the room, the girl apologized embarrassedly, perhaps she had gone a bit too far and the best way to calm him down would have been to talk.

But it was the tension of the moment.

—Don't worry, I think I needed it —He replied with a soft smile.

They felt the judging glances of the other players for surviving but that didn't bother them, yes, maybe it was a little uncomfortable but the smile and a happy greeting from player 149 made the entrance more pleasant.

After sitting down and talking a little, each one introduced themselves with their respective names. They were a team from now on and they preferred to call each other by their names instead of a simple number that they had on their jackets.

—I’m sorry for that behavior earlier —Young-il apologized to the two girls on the team.

Uncontrolled behavior was common among men, they knew how easily lost their sanity if failed to achieve a goal, especially if it was the life at stake, but having done so in front of two young ladies was frowned upon.

—And Jun-hee, as soon as we get out of here you should go see a doctor, stress is not good for you.

The way he expressed that feeling of concern and empathy for the pregnant young woman was charming to the girl sitting next to him.

She had only known him for a few hours, but the fluid conversation they had managed to make them agree on several things, she was delighted with that player, but the cherry on the cake was the laugh that appeared on him face when he made a joke about Gi-hun's name, no one shared his moment of happiness except for her.

It was impossible for her to remain serious when she noticed that despite the circumstances they were in and the fact that were about to die a few minutes ago, Young-il maintained his humor.

After a few minutes, voting began once again to decide whether to stay or leave, however the majority of participants voted for the blue circle, condemning the rest of the players who refused to continue playing.

The girl continued terrified, this was not her job, Mr. Seong Gi-hun had not hired her for that.

In-ho just watched her, noticing her lips pressed together in a grimace and her brow furrowed, a sign that was frustrated at not being able to get out of there.

While the food was being distributed, In-ho sat next to Gi-hun in complete silence, player 456 was further away from his target and that disappointed him, but his eyes drifted slightly towards 455, the detective was sitting on her bed accompanied by Jun-hee, the disappointment and fear of staying still etched in their expressions.

When Jung-bae came over to apologize for pressing the blue circle he stood up and walked towards the two girls.

—Take it Jun-hee —His voice caught her attention —You need to eat more to maintain your strength —Seeing that she was going to refuse, he insisted with a smile —Besides, I don't drink whole milk.

222 took the little box and thanked her with a slight bow.

—You have to eat too —He said looking at the girl.

She hadn't even gone for food, she was nervous about the next game and more than out of fear, preferred to think about how to get through the next round.

—I'm not that hungry.

—I'll go with you.

In-ho wasn't asking if she was hungry or not, it was a request for her to go get his food and eat it later.

She couldn't refuse and he made that clear when held out his hand for her to take, Jun-hee watched the act with wide eyes and a slight smile, he was quite the gentleman.

—I'll go with the others —222 said, starting to feel like was in the way.

—Come on —In-ho repeated, taking her hand and gently pulling up from where she was sitting.

Her smiled at him and went for she respective portions. As night fell, Gi-hun began to make a kind of fortress where they could stay. They would take turns sleeping or staying awake to stand guard.

—¿Don't you think you're exaggerating? I don't think these people are capable of killing each other —Said 001 with a grimace.

—You haven't seen these games before —Gi-hun argued.

—He's right —the girl said. —We must be alertm

The way she seemed to be able to be afraid and brave at the same time was curious to In-ho.

During the night, everyone was asleep except for Jung-bae and Dae-ho because it was their turn to keep watch, but seeing that the girl was also awake, Dae-ho approached her.

—¿Aren't you going to sleep? ¿What are you doing?

Watching her try to break the zipper of the jacket, he arched an eyebrow.

—¿What are you doing? —Him ask for the second time, this time more curious.

—The bathrooms have ventilation, with something metal I can open the gate.

It wasn't a great plan but it would be useful, or at least that's what she thought.

—¿Are you going to escape? —Dae-ho asked in surprise at her plan.

Those words caught the attention of the man who was barely trying to sleep in his bed, In-ho opened his eyes and listened attentively.

—I hope so —she agreed not very convinced that those ducts lead to a safe exit without guards. —If I manage to do it, I will go for Gi-hun's team and come back for you guys

—¿What if he finds out?

—Well... The worst thing that can happen to me is getting a bullet in the head.

In-ho twisted his lips, it seemed that the detective who was afraid of dying had disappeared, leaving behind a girl who now only wanted to survive but without seeing anyone else die.

That was honorable, he admitted, but still didn't understand how she would risk his life for people she barely knew and for his boss, accept that she escape without looking back but come back for them?

¿For him?

Or at least that's what he thought when he felt her gaze on him.

—None of you deserve to die in here, you are good people, if I am going to die... I will not do it playing, I will do it trying to do something good.

Those words were enough for In-ho to recognize her worth, finally there was the girl he had been following for a whole year who planned her moves well.

It was nice what she wanted to do.

It was also a complete shame that him had to ruin it for her.

Thanks for reading!! 😸😸😸I think the third part will be full of angst and will be somewhat cloying. I love romance sorry

Tag list:

@lucinda-reads @deathsmellzz @autmn4lvs @cvbi @ava-cjkk @ari200027 @claristary

[trustmypoison]

SVT personalities

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘Ot13 personality. E.g. how do YOU see them and think they're like‘ and ‘Can you write about who in svt in your opinion is the most similar to their on screen persona vs the most different and in what way? What do you think are some of thei shadow sides we don't see often?’

A/N: obligatory ‘this is just my opinion and I don’t know any of them personally’ warning. I could be wrong!!

Seungcheol

Very much the dad of the group, I don’t think that that is just for the cameras. I think he’s far more serious than we might see on camera - I think he’d have to be to keep the ship that is svt afloat. I think he does this with a ton of stubbornness. This can be both a good thing and a bad thing - a good thing because he’ll stubbornly stand up to the company on behalf of his members, but it could be a bad thing because that stubbornness might be turned towards his group members sometimes. I think he might have more of an ego than he lets on, but nothing like how he’s written in a lot of fanfic sometimes. 

Jeonghan

Mischievous as he is, I think a lot of the time, it is a mask. He likes a good laugh and causing a little chaos, but I think privately, he’d be pretty lowkey. I think this is based on personality as well as being one of the oldest, but I think he’d have a hard time letting people in with any sort of seriousness out of fear of being a burden to others. I think he might feel misunderstood a lot of the time, even by the people that he’s closest to. 

Joshua

Gentlemanly? Yes. Surprisingly chaotic? Yes. Shockingly stubborn? I think so! I think he kind of does what he wants sometimes, and it might cause some friction. I actually think he might have more of a temper than anyone recognizes. Don’t get me wrong, I think in conflict, he’d really try to be patient and listen, but he might feel pretty confident that he’s right and will get frustrated when someone doesn’t see it that way. I think he does care about those around him, but he might not always be the best at showing it. 

Jun

I really think he’s pretty spacey, to be honest. He’s a born entertainer, no doubt. But when he’s not entertaining, he seems a little checked out. There’s no way of knowing why, but I have my theories. It could just be his personality to be lost in his own head. Or he’s just sort of introverted when he’s amongst others, and it’s not his turn to be the center of attention. I think he has a lot of duality, though. When he’s trying to entertain someone, he sort of becomes a different person. 

Hoshi

I think he also has a lot more duality than anyone ever gives him credit for. For sure, he’s loud and excitable and affectionate. I think all of that is very true and not really an act. But I think he can be the most serious of all the members, really. And I don’t think this is just regarding work. I think he’d actually be one of the most caring of all of them and would not do anything to disguise it. I think the shadow side to this is simply that he just doesn’t get credit for how much others lean on him. 

Wonwoo

I think he’s actually pretty genuine as far as the Wonwoo we get to see. He is pretty reserved and lets others take the spotlight most of the time, but when it’s his turn, he knows how to turn on the charm. But… I sometimes wonder if he really likes his job? Like, I think he finds it rewarding most of the time, and he’s surely very talented, but sometimes he’s so stoic about it that I wonder if he really likes it all the time. 

Woozi

Okay. I think he’d be far more light-hearted if he didn’t carry so much burden in the group. You see snippets of that light-hearted attitude when he gets to just sit back and watch the others have a good time. As passionate as he is about what he does, I wonder if he’d be happier to do this more casually or without the pressures of being one of the primary visionaries for the group. I really worry about him, actually. 

DK

I think he’s the goofball that we all see. That’s not an act, and I don’t think he’s hamming it up for the camera like 90% of the time. In my mind, he is the sunshine personified that we all think he is. He seems incredibly caring and thoughtful, a mood-maker in the group. I’ve mentioned this before, but if there is a downside, it’s that he has a hard time being serious about something because he’d rather lift moods instead of dealing with bad ones. 

Mingyu

I think he’s also pretty genuine. Wants to play the big, tough guy, but we all recognize that he’s actually a total baby. Incredibly caring and thoughtful. If there is a hidden side, I think it’s that he’s far more intelligent than he gets credit for. I think he fills the niche of dumb jock (affectionate) in the group, and there’s not a lot of room for him to show that he has a lot more underneath the surface. 

Minghao

He does not seem to let others in when it comes to work. He’s there for work. But I think this is because he’s just intensely private. Even amongst people in his daily life, I think he’d have a hard time letting people in. I think privately, with close friends or family, he’s much more light-hearted than we ever get to see, though. He might even be pretty soft about the people close to him, but we’ll never know. 

Seungkwan

I think he thinks the world of those around him, so no one should take any of his side eyes or attitude seriously. I think behind all of that, he’s very soft and affectionate with his members. I don’t think any of that is surprising. But I do think he is beyond stubborn and likes to be right more than the average person. He has hills he would die on, and his stubbornness might put a wedge between him and others sometimes. 

Vernon

I think that 90% of the time, he’s a total loner who would prefer to be in his own head. But this is a hill I would die on. Being a loner doesn’t mean he’s inattentive!! As someone who is sort of a loner, please trust me, you notice a lot about others. I think he’s quietly very caring about those around him, though he’s pretty discreet about it most of the time. I think he’s another one that intensely values privacy and doing his own thing. 

Chan

I think he’s pretty reserved when he’s not on stage. That might surprise some people, but what I mean is that he is really good at chitchat, and it takes some serious time to get beyond the chitchat with him. When he does get comfortable with someone enough to let them in, I think he’d be very sweet and committed. I also think he’d have a bit of an ego. Nothing crazy, but he knows he’s good at his job and knows he’s attractive. 

[alextydaisuda123]

"Dance Tower"

So... a new AU?:") ... I don't know, I drew everything on pure enthusiasm. And I was shocked by myself when I realized that... THIS WILL BE MY FIRST QUIET AU! °□° Without any serious plot! This AU will exist purely for fun. Why not. No, I did not refuse dark and tense plots, I just wanted to create something calm. So meet >:)✨️

Dance Tower - this AU will be based only on dancing. Yes, there will be elements of competitions and combat, and only because most of the dances are tied to combat due to the characteristics of the bosses.

Plot? Well, as I said, there is nothing serious there. Everything is simple. Peppino and Gustavo receive a letter from Pizzahead with a simple invitation to the tower to dance, whether they go or stay, it is their choice, their no one forced them. But they went, why not :). And now, let's move smoothly to the characters. And yes, I will say in conclusion that the characters have remained unchanged, but they will have some added facts and details. And yes, almost all the characters will be friends with each other.

Peppino. His dance style is hip-hop with elements of breakdance. He is still anxious and afraid to perform in public, so he dances either only with Gustavo, or alone. But when he receives an invitation, he still decides to go there, purely out of curiosity.

Facts: Peppino has accumulated a lot of scars throughout his life (half of which he does not remember where he got), so he hides them under thick clothes (even in the heat he walks like that, poor thing🥲). Only Gustavo knows about the scars. He can still cook (though he does not have a restaurant at all).

Gustavo and Brick. Their dance style is Flamenco. In fact, Brick initially did not know how to dance, but when he became interested in what Gustavo dances, he decided to learn. Gustavo is more confident in dancing and is not shy in public.

Facts: He tried to learn breakdancing from Peppino, but alas, he realized that it was not his genre, although he knows a few tricks from there that he can perform. He met Brick purely by chance in the tower, when he tried to dance with Noisette, whom he met on one of the floors of the tower. Brick really liked Gustavo's style, so he tied a red belt on himself and asked Gustavo to do his hair :3.

Pepperman. His dance style is ballet, with elements of allegro, boxing or something like that. He has been dancing ballet since an early age, which he really liked. But over time, he added elements of combat to it, which makes his ballet look somewhat sharp and dynamic (which surprised Peppino himself when he took part in a dance with him).

Facts: Because of his additions to the dance style, it is difficult for him to find the music he needs, so he approaches it very slowly, but reverently. He still draws. He tried to mix dancing and drawing before, but he cannot concentrate on anything in particular, so he does drawing separately, namely when he is resting. During dancing, his legs suffer the most, so they are constantly bandaged (jumps and kicks do their job). He has many costumes that he can use in dance. He loves to wear makeup, so he also does his own makeup (sometimes Noisette does it).

Vigilante. His dance style is cowboy country. In his dance, he uses a gun (safe), because it adds more ... epicness to it? Dynamics?🤨...well, yes, something like that. He takes dancing quite seriously, initially not perceiving other genres. Over time, of course, it passed, but he does serious preparation for dancing.

Facts: He has been dancing not since childhood, since he initially believed that he and dance were something incompatible. But when he grew up, he decided to try to find something suitable for him, and since he loved country music, he began to dance in a similar style. That's where his love for the cowboy theme came from. The ribbon on his hat was given to him by PM, as a sign of their relationship and joint partnership in dancing.

Noise. His style is Hip Hop with elements of break dance and ... rap🥲. Well, yeah, why not |:). Has been doing this since childhood. Initially, his family taught him to dance something simple and national, like Harabe. But he quickly got bored and learned something else (nobody forbade him in general). When he fights in a dance with Peppino, he can use random things to win and get more rating.

Facts: Initially, he thought that his dance style was special, but when Bruno himself repeated his tricks, even did better, he softened opinion about it a little. When he met Noisette, he was ashamed to admit that he usually dances when she said that she dances, and he hid it for a long time (they were then able to combine their dances, so everything is generally fine now). He doesn't really try hard on his images😅.

Noisette. Her style is ballet, compatible with roller skating or ice skating (mostly rollers). Her dances are mostly complete improvisation. Still as cheerful and energetic.

Facts: When she danced with Gustavo, she didn't have the goal of defeating him somehow, but just to dance from the heart. She still cooks different goodies, and they turn out quite tasty (if you're really hungry, of course, but Noise will eat everything). Her costume is also some kind of improvisation, since she wanted to diversify the ballet costume. She sometimes likes to arrange a fashion show with PM.

Fake Peppino (Bruno). He has the same dance style as the regular Peppino, only also with elements of improvisation. Initially, Bruno was not conceived as a clone who needs to defeat Peppino, but purely as an ordinary participant, like everyone else. So he wasn't created with evil intent.

Facts: Despite his love for frogs, he asked Noisette and Pepperman to sew him something frog-related, which they did very well (except there were also pants, but they were abandoned due to inconvenience). On his floor, there are many dance machines that he plays (either alone or with friends, if they are not busy). His relationship with Pizzahead is not bad, yes, he does not particularly care for him, but he does not torture him, but simply treats him like a child, whom he can occasionally notice and does not refuse to dance with him.

Pizzahead. His dance style is a little special, namely tap dancing. It is special because for other bosses this genre of dance is "from the old days" (plus the clothes refer to the old days (and to the image of Charlie Chaplin🥲👍)). In this AU, he is not evil, but he can sometimes get along with other bosses because of little things or because of the thirst for victory in some contests or simple competitions. But someday he will have to admit his defeat. And so, he is a simple smiling fool, nothing more.

Facts: The reason why Pizzahead invited Peppino to his tower is because he saw him on TV purely by chance. He admired his movements (even if they were constrained due to Peppino's insecurity) and decided to invite him as a friend. Of course, he did not expect Peppino to come, but he was prepared for his appearance in advance. His cane serves not only as a dance element, but also purely to maintain posture, since he has minor back problems due to his tall stature. He has a bad habit of tap dancing at night, which keeps others awake. Oops.

That's how it is :D. I will occasionally draw this AU for fun :>. I hope you like it^^"✨️.

[wemalyri]

could you do enhypen reaction to ur self harm ?? I loved ur last post

pairing: hyungline!enhypen × gn!reader genre: angst, hurt/comfort warnings: feeling guilty, obv self-harm, brief description of negative feelings and thoughts + personal tw for each member w/c: 640+ a/n: thank you for your request!! sorry that it took me SO long(( (it's been in my drafts since august just so yk :/)e also I did only hyung line I hope you don't mind. I tried to mention and describe different reasons and situations. some members include sad endings and feeling of hopelessness. I know that if you're deep down in this even words of your loved ones might not help. if you have this problem pls remember that you're not alone( take care of yourself properly! also sunghoon one is kinds crazy, sorry for that !!! likes and reposts are welcomed !!!

Heeseung

tw: comparison to others, jealousy, toxic perfectionism

You hadn’t seen each other for a few months. The reason of it was Heeseung’s job. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t stay with you all of the time. Three months of tour felt like eternity. However, it was finally over and now you could see each other again. Heeseung promised you to come over as soon as possible but you didn’t expect him to do it so fast. Forgetting yourself, you ran to the front door and opened it with a bright smile. Heeseung immediately hugged you, holding you tight. His hand held your head, burying your face in his chest. “Gosh I missed you so much…” He inhaled your scent with a loud sound. “You smell like home.”

You playfully giggled and pecked his lips, looking at him. He pulled away to explore your appearance with a smile, but it immediately faded as his gaze fixed on your thighs. “Y/n…” He whispered with fear, not believing his own eyes. 

Upper side of your legs were covered in scars, recent ones. You absolutely forgot to cover them, too excited to meet your boyfriend. 

Yes, Heeseung was perfect for you but that only made your self-esteem worse. You always thought he was too good for you, you never were on the same level. Heeseung wasn’t just an idol, he was a goddamn ‘ace’. Perfect at everything, you never noticed his bad habits, selfish thoughts or actions. He was like an angel fallen from heaven, someone who would never match you. This is what you thought. And when he left on tour you knew he wouldn’t be able to control or see new scars if you left them. Every time you got jealous, you would blame yourself for this feeling, making your mental statement even worse. Negative feelings were too much to handle but you were too embarrassed and ashamed to share them with Heeseung, knowing pretty well that even his sweetest words wouldn’t help you. This is how you found a way to express everything you felt, punishing yourself for not being flawless.

Your eyes looked down, searching for a reason of Heeseung’s worried expression. When you saw your scars, you felt ashamed and guilty. 

“It’s nothing.” you answered, trying to sound casual.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” Heeseung’s tone of voice was serious. It felt like you had never seen him with such an expression. His eyes met yours and you could see a deep worry and hurt in them. “Why have you done that?..”

You felt guilty. You didn’t want to hurt him with your words but you didn’t want to lie to him at the same time. “I…didn’t feel well.” The reason you named sounded so stupid that a sense of shame washed over you.

Heeseung’s expression didn’t change. It seemed like your words didn’t convince him at all. “You could call me… text me… anything but not that.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you. You have a busy schedule, I don’t want to wear you out even more.” 

“Y/n… It wouldn’t hurt me as much as this.” You went silent for a second, biting your lip.

“I didn’t want to complain to you, okay?” It felt like you didn’t understand each other at all.

“Baby, that’s not complaining when you tell me about your feelings. That’s normal. I’m your boyfriend, you don’t trust me enough to share your thoughts?” You didn’t say anything as tears welled up in your eyes. Heeseung immediately stepped closer, pulling you to him. Your hands wrapped around his waist, holding onto him as the last hope. He pecked your head, whispering. “Tell me when you don’t feel well next time, okay?” You slightly nodded, thinking that maybe it will help you to go through this. At least, you decided to give it a try.

Jay

tw: ED, fatshaming (reader to themselves)

Jay is the best cook you've ever known and everyone always says that they're jealous of your luck. Your boyfriend cooks for you everyday, he never fails to make sure you're eating well even when he's tired. However, for you personally this obsession with good meals never was for the best. Your relationship with your body never was the simplest one and even though Jay and you dated for a while, you managed to hide it from him. However, at the last time something went wrong and your boyfriend started noticing what attitude you actually had to food.

One day you were having a meal at your apartment and of course Jay cooked. Again. Sitting next to your boyfriend, you were picking at food. 

“Is something wrong? You don't like it?” Jay asked, looking at you through his eyelashes with concern. 

“No, everything's fine. Just not hungry.” You managed to say, trying to sound casual. Jay's eyebrows frowned and he pulled chopsticks away. 

“Are you sure? You haven't been eating well lately.” This question suddenly made you annoyed. You didn't want someone to talk about your eating problems, so you tried to change the topic. 

“Just not hungry.” The same words left your mouth and it made Jay confused even more. Something definitely was wrong and he just couldn't understand what exactly. 

“Y/n, I know something is wrong. Don't try to hide it from me.” Jay's tone was serious and it only irritated you even more. 

“I said I was fine!” You striked the table, that made your sleeves of shirt roll up and show off your scars. Jay looked at your wrists and his sight immediately catched those parts of skin you were hiding from him. Fresh scars were relieved for his eyes, blooming on your hands. 

“Y/n, your hands…” Jay spoke quietly in disbelief. Your eyes immediately widened in realization. He saw them.

You rolled down your sleeves, hiding marks of the hatred to your body, eyes looking down.

“How long ago did you make it?” Jay asked seriously, clenching his fists. He didn't hear an answer from you. “Why?..” For a minute that you were staying silent, a lot of different thoughts ran through his head. Weren’t you happy with him? Was he a bad boyfriend? Why did you hide it?

“Jay, it's not your fault.” His flaw of thoughts was ruined by your quiet voice. “It's just… me.”

He absolutely didn't understand. His eyes looked into yours with desire for more explanation. He was begging you to talk about it. 

“I-I don't like myself. My body. And I feel even worse every time you try to feed me. I'm fat. I can't let myself eat that much.”

Of course, he was so stupid all of this time. You had always been eating purely. Once he even noticed you judgingly looking at yourself in the mirror. And he did nothing.

“Gosh, I'm so stupid…” Jay hid his face in his hands, rubbing the forehead, trying not to bunch his head under the table. 

“No, you're not. I never talked about it. You were just being a good caring boyfriend.” You saw how awful he felt and it made you feel guilty. 

He quickly stood up from his place and you could see his watered eyes, when he slipped his hands away from his face. He approached you, gently pulling your wrist to the side to examine you. “Did you hurt yourself anywhere else? Are there any more scars?” 

“No, Jay.” You settled him down with your voice but he didn’t seem to believe you. “Really. That’s all.”

Jay slightly sighed, closing his eyes. “Listen, I’m sorry.” You stood up and placed your hand on his shoulder, feeling even more guilty. 

“You shouldn’t apologize to me. You should apologize to yourself.” Jay looked mad but this expression on his face was actually hiding his concern. He looked at you and was met with your sad puppy eyes that made him want to hug you. His hands pulled you to him and he pressed his lips to your head. 

“I know…” You mumbled into his chest. “I just can't. I don't want to.”

“Baby… do you hate yourself that much?” Jay asked looking into your eyes when he lifted your chin up. Your eyes watered, giving him a clear answer. “I'm sorry…” He whispered. “I'll make sure you'll love yourself.”

You slightly shook your head in resistance but didn't say anything, ran out of energy. Jay patted your head, kissing your forehead, and while looking into his eyes full of love you thought that maybe he will keep his words. 

Jake

tw: reader can’t express their feelings, bad experience in sharing problems

Jake always was clingy towards you but it never was the problem. His hands almost always were wrapped around you, no matter if you were in public or not, you would feel his touch on your back or shoulder.

One day you had a movie-night and Jake was clinging onto you as usual. Wrapping hands around you, laying his head on your thighs, caressing your skin, he almost touched your recent scars that were covering your shoulder. Everytime Jake moved or shivered you would slightly flinch, avoiding contact between his hands and your scars under the shirt. 

Suddenly, your boyfriend pulled away from your thighs, holding onto your shoulder and you immediately gasped. “Ouch!”

Jake looked at you with worried eyes, pulling his hand away and holding it in the air. “Sorry! Did I grip too hard?”

You sighed, looking at him. “Yeah, a bit harsh. But it's okay.” Jake's gaze switched to your shoulder, covered with a shirt. He slightly pulled your sleeve up. “I'm sorry… There might be a bruise now. Let me look.” You immediately flinched from him. He didn't have to know about your scars. 

“No, it's okay.” Jake's eyes switched to your face with worry. 

“Baby, I'll just look…” He gently placed his hand on yours and you looked away, giving up. You knew he wouldn't leave you alone. Insisting would only cause more questions. 

Jake's fingers slowly pulled your sleeve up and his eyes widened. “Baby… what is that?..” Now he could see your recent scars that were blooming on your skin. 

There wasn't a certain reason why you did that. Sometimes negative feelings were too much to cope with and you, the person who had never been learnt how to take care of yourself and let your emotions out, would express everything, hurting yourself. You knew it was wrong but the thought of sharing your feelings with someone was too strange. Of course, you had tried. But it always ended the same. People would say you complain a lot and you would shut up, regretting letting out true feelings. But this time it was Jake. Jake who was your boyfriend, Jake who would never let himself hurt you. 

Your eyes watered with a feeling of despair but you didn't dare to meet his gaze. Awkward silence took the air away, not letting to breathe. However, tension in the room suddenly disappeared with Jake's gentle voice. “Hey…” His fingers tilted your chin up. Jake’s worried eyes met watered yours. “Where are they from?..” 

He looked so genuinely concerned that you couldn’t confess you were the one who did that with yourself. You bit your bottom lip, holding tears that started welling up in your eyes. There was no response. Jake started realising what your silent answer meant and his world faded away.

“It wasn’t you, right?..” he whispered, scared of his own words “You wouldn’t do that to yourself?…” Silence was making Jake go insane and he called you by your name. 

“Y/n?..” his hands held your, slightly squeezing them “Please, say something. I won;t judge you, I swear.”

You looked in the corner of the room quietly saying only a few words “That was me.”

Jake’s jaw clenched but he managed to ask “Why?..”

“I don’t know… I wasn’t… feeling well…” your voice was slightly shaky. Jake leaned close to you, making sure you could see everything in his eyes. 

“You have me. You can always share with me, you know that, right?” 

“I don’t want to complain to you. You don’t know what you’re signing up for.” you warned him, recalling your past experiences. 

“I don’t care. I want to make sure I’m doing the best I can to make you happy.” Jake saw your slight smile and leaned even closer to peck your lips before wrapping hands around you and whispering in your ear “Can you do that for me? Next time you feel bad… Tell me, scream at me, yell at me. As much as you need until you get rid of wanting to hurt yourself.” 

You caressed his hair pulling him closer and whispering “I love you, Jake.”He smiled, replying with the same soft words “I love you too.”

Sunghoon 

tw: self-harm in details, blood, low self-esteem, anxiety, jealousy, reader has REAL mental problems… (this one is crazy fr)

You knew Sunghoon pretty well as much as the fact that he only seemed to be cold. When you first met him, you thought he hated you for something or just didn’t like you, but after a while you found out you were wrong. Because of his cold appearance it’s hard to say what he’s feeling or thinking about. Still, you’ve loved him the way he is. However, your anxiety and self-esteem suffered the most in your relationship. Not because Sunghoon was too cold, but because you were afraid of doing or saying something wrong. Mental problems and fears took control of you and sometimes it led to hurting yourself. 

Sunghoon went out with friends. You were absolutely fine with that until it started being late and stars covered the dark sky. Sunghoon didn’t answer your calls, didn’t reply to your messages and you started worrying too much. Was he with other girls? Did he lie to you about his feelings? 

Minutes with these thoughts and attempts to call him again and you already found yourself in the bathroom with a blade in your hands. Fear of losing Sunghoon and hatred to yourself led you towards irrecoverable actions.

Consumed by your feelings, you didn’t notice the sound of unlocking door and footsteps of your boyfriend. He was surprised by not seeing you greeting him in the hallway and suggested you were sleeping. As Sunghoon carefully headed towards the bathroom he stood still in the doorframe, seeing you with bloody hands sitting on the cold tile. His eyes widened in fear and he ran to you, holding your shoulders and turning you to him.

“Y/n! Are you here? Do you hear me?” he enquired with fear slightly shaking you. 

Your eyes shoot opened “Hoon? What are you doing here?” 

“What do you mean? I came home as usual. What’s happened?..” he looked over you with worried eyes “We need to take you to the hospital.” 

Sunghoon started lifting you up but you stopped him lightly tapping his shoulder. 

“No… It’s okay…” You weakly smiled, tears on your cheeks becoming dry.

“It’s not okay. Your wrists are literally bleeding…” You could tell he was trying his hardest to stay calm but hysterical notes in his voice were telling the opposite. Sunghoon laid you on the bed and called the ambulance with shaky hands.When the call ended the room went silent. 

“We need to stop your… blood first” He hurried to the bathroom for some bandage to negligently stop your blood. Fortunately, cuts weren’t deep.

“I thought you wouldn’t come…” you mumbled watching Sunghoon treating your wounds.

Sunghoon looked at you with confusion “Why did you do that?.. I don’t understand…” His voice was quiet, your heart breaking into million pieces. 

“I’m sorry…” you whispered reaching for his cheek. “I thought… I thought you lied to me. You weren’t answering my texts and calls…” Your thumb slowly caressed his skin, wiping away a lonely tear that escaped from his watering eyes. Sunghoon gently took another hand of yours in his, rubbing the knuckles.

“My phone was discharged…” 

Oh. That was so stupid of you. How could you overreact so much?..

“Oh… I didn’t think about that…” The room went silent again. 

“Y/n, please… I’m begging you. Never do that again. Okay?..” Sunghoon’s pleading voice broke the silence. You hesitated before slowly nodding. “I don’t want to lose you like that.”

Your eyes watered, you started realising your mistake and what you did, what could happen. “I’m sorry, Hoon… I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The room was suddenly filled with a syren of the ambulance that flew from the opened window.

[kteezy997]

Beyond Business-part two//t.c.

Warnings: mention of deception, possibly toxic relationship, small argument

He was so close, leaning onto the table with his hands. You turned your head, your heart racing, thinking he’d do something crazy like kiss you. There’s no way he would do that, right?

You watched him look at the laptop screen for a few seconds, but it felt much longer before he spoke. “I think it’s time for a lunch break.” He stood up straight, “Ready?”

You were brought back to your senses, “Yeah, um, what do you want me to go get today?” you asked, pushing your chair back and standing up as well.

“Actually, I thought we’d go out somewhere.”

"Oh." you said, shrugging, "Alright."

............

The lunch wasn't really anything special, he just took you to a sandwich shop where you sat in a booth and finished eating within ten minutes. But it was abnormal, considering the two of you had never gone out to lunch, or any other meal together. Typically, he would have you go pick up food from somewhere, mostly to give you a mental break from the workday, or you would order food to be delivered to his place.

After returning to his house, you decided to break the ice on a topic that he was dreading: the Golden Globes.

"So, have you been thinking about the Globes? Do you have an acceptance speech ready?"

"What are you talking about? I'm not gonna win." he slumped down in one of his comfy chairs in the living room.

"Timmy, you should have something prepared. I can help you write something."

"Yeah," he sighed, "I guess I should have something, just in case. That's your job for the rest of the day, write my speech." he smiled cheekily.

You giggled at his goofy face, "Okay, boss. You'll have to proofread so I don't leave anyone out on your thank you list. Should I mention Miss Jenner?” the last question was a bit of a joke. You didn't think Timmy would ever mention a significant other publicly, not even if he were married to someone for 10 years with children.

Timmy only rolled his eyes, “Yeah, no.” he said firmly, taking his phone out, looking at the screen.

“Are you guys…okay?” You knew this was a sensitive spot, but not sure exactly why.

“Yeah, we’re fine.” he said plainly. He did not want to talk about her.

You bit your lip, "Well, I will go get started on that speech, unless there's anything else you need me to work on?" you started to turn on your heel.

"No, nothing right now, y/n, thanks." he said to you, but kept his eyes on the phone.

You could not get your head around how nice he was being to you, not that he was ever particularly mean, except for the night before, but you were over that. But to actually thank you for just doing your job was not typical of him.

.........

Later on, evening hours were approaching, and it was nearly time for you to go home. You heard Timmy's footsteps trailing into the dining room. His phone was still in hand.

"She is wanting to text; I just don't have the energy tonight. Just keep her on the hook, make her think the relationship is secure." he said, attempting to hand the device over to you.

"Is the relationship not secure?" you asked, not sure if you should take the phone.

Tip-toeing around an answer, he shrugged, "Just say enough to make it so. You've done it for me before." he pointed out.

"I know...it just doesn't feel right. This is something you should be doing Timmy. What if she mentions something from a text that I sent, and you don't even know what she's talking about?"

"She won't. Don't worry about that, it's not that deep. Just send a few texts back and forth and it'll be done." his nonchalant attitude was a little unnerving.

You shook your head, "It just seems mean, like towards her. She is still just a girl, you know, I think she actually might like you, Timmy."

"It's not that serious, she knows that, but I need her to think that everything is fine."

"I don't want to lie for you anymore, Timmy."

"It's not lying." he insisted.

"It's not genuine. Even if you don't care about Kylie, she is still a person. She doesn't deserve to be deceived."

"I never said I didn't care."

"Well, you don't act like you do! What even is your relationship with her? You never say anything about her."

"You're my assistant, I don't have to talk about my love life with you." he gave you a dirty look.

You scoffed, "You have literally had me do your texting for you, and you want me to do it again! You are such a walking contradiction. I'm not doing it." You were extra firm in your last sentence.

"Whatever. I think it's about quitting time for you today anyway, y/n." he said, grabbing his phone back from you.

"Look, I'm sorry for yelling at you. But you have to admit that I'm right. That's not a way to treat someone. I shouldn't have done it before, but you're my boss and I guess at the time I just wanted to please you."

He nodded, taking a breath and a moment to reflect, "Yeah, well, I'm glad to have you to call me out on my bullshit." He then tapped your arm with his hand. "Okay, get out of here, kid."

You frowned, "Did you just call me 'kid'?"

"Yeah, what?" he frowned right back at you. The mood was lighter now.

"I'm only like a year and a half younger than you, old man, don't call me a kid." you joked, gathering up your things to leave. You liked the playful banter you and he shared sometimes.

"Fine, don't call me an ‘old man’ then." he chuckled. He followed you to the front door as you slung your purse over your shoulder.

“Well, goodnight, boss.” you said, facing him one last time after to opened the door.

He held the door, his arm resting above your head. “Okay, goodnight.” he smiled softly. “Drive safe.” he said simply, then leaned in to leave a peck on your cheek.

Your heart skipped a beat, you felt your cheeks flood pink immediately. The tiny spot that his lips had touched was inflamed. You didn’t know what else to do, so you stood there smiling like an idiot.

Timmy closed his eyes, shaking his head and pressing his lips together, “I’m sorry! I don’t know why I did that. I really don’t.” he was clearly embarrassed; he took about a half step backward. “Let’s just forget about that, okay?” he smiled innocently.

“Yeah, it’s okay.” you shrugged, putting your arms behind your back. “It didn’t bother me anyway.”

He grinned, “Good. See you tomorrow?”

“Yep, definitely. Don’t forget to read over that speech. You’re running out of time before the awards.”

He mock rolled his eyes, letting his head hang down in annoyance, not at you, but the awards. “Okay.” he whined.

“Bye Timmy.” you giggled, then walked out the door. You weren't sure why he was dreading the Golden Globes so badly.

January 7, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive

[aishangotome]

Luke & Gilbert's Story of Reminiscence [The Day We Became a Fake Family] - Part 3

Part 2

The one-eyed youth, clad in the scent of blood and gunpowder, was smiling refreshingly as always.

It didn't take long for me to realize that there wasn't much difference between the youth's environment on the battlefield and in everyday life.

His stagnant verdant eyes were intently focused.

There was no disgust in them, but rather—

Luke: It's nice, isn't it? For you.

Gilbert: Hehe, is that so?

At his words, which almost sounded like admiration, the youth smiled gently as he wiped the blood with linen.

Luke: You can kill all the bad guys and the ones you hate, so you don't have any worries, right?

Gilbert: I do. I'm full of worries.

Luke: Liar.

Gilbert: You know, I hate lies.

Luke: Then, do you have worries?

Gilbert: Yes. Obsidian, you see, is also known as the country of deceit and corruption.

Gilbert: It's full of rotten people everywhere, and there aren't enough hands to clean it all up.

Gilbert: Even if I kill them all and clean it up, new filth will soon emerge. My worries never end.

Luke: Are there that many rotten people?

Gilbert: Isn't it the same around you, Luke?

Luke: Yeah. I've talked to all sorts of people since I started living here...

Luke: I don't think it's as dirty a country as you say.

Gilbert: Is everyone kind?

Luke: If you're not pulling strings behind the scenes, then everyone is kind.

Gilbert: Even I don't control "goodwill." Not many people know that I'm your guardian.

Gilbert: If you don't see corruption in your eyes, then my cleaning wasn't in vain.

Luke: ...It must be tough for you too.

Gilbert: It is tough, but someone has to do it.

Gilbert: I want to make it a country that promising young people like you can be proud of.

Luke: You're a promising young person too, aren't you?

The one-eyed youth just smiled quietly, neither nodding nor shaking his head.

Luke: ...Could it be that you...

Luke: Are more of an "old man" than I think?

The one-eyed youth, after a moment of bewilderment at the boy's serious and shocked expression, burst into laughter.

Gilbert: Ahaha... To call me that... you're probably the only one... haha!

Luke: ...You don't have to laugh that much!

Gilbert: Sorry, sorry, don't sulk. I was thinking that being called "old man" isn't so bad.

Luke: Don't you hate it?

Gilbert: Why? It's proof that I've lived a long life, shouldn't I be proud of it?

Luke: ...Hmm.

The youth, after laughing for a while and wiping his tears, peered at the boy who had turned away.

Gilbert: Hey, do you like Obsidian?

Luke: More than Rhodolite, anyway.

Gilbert: Oh?

Luke: What's with that smug look?

Gilbert: I'm just glad.

Luke: About what?

Gilbert: Because you—.......

-

???: Yo, mind if I join you guys?

—...Suddenly, a third voice rang out, and the seat next to Luke was filled.

Luke: Huh? Jin?

Jin: I happened to see you guys as I was passing by.

Gilbert: "Happened," huh...?

Even with the sudden intruder, Gilbert didn't change his expression and started to gobble down the honey cake that had been brought to the table.

Jin: What are you doing with my little brother?

Gilbert: Hehe, what do you think?

Jin: ...Were you having an eating contest?

Luke: That's right. His stomach is abnormal.

Gilbert: Luke, you're a light eater considering you're taller than me.

Luke: Compared to you, anyone would be a light eater.

Jin: If you're such a big eater, I'll let our chef know next time.

Gilbert: Eh, will you increase the portions? You're so kind, unlike Chevalier. Thank you.

Jin: No problem at all. In return, though, would you mind not bullying my little brother?

Gilbert: Don't be silly, I'm not bullying him. He's in the foreign affairs faction, so it's his job to entertain me, isn't it?

Gilbert: Besides, today's "sightseeing" has been cleared with Chevalier.

Jin: Oh? I can't believe you were so considerate.

Jin: But there are others in the foreign affairs faction, right?

Jin: In particular, our Clavis and Nokto are professionals at diplomacy...

Gilbert: Of course, I know. I also appreciate their skills.

Gilbert: But if I ask Clavis, things will get complicated, and I hate that foxy boy because he's a liar.

Gilbert: Chevalier is out of the question, so by process of elimination, I have no choice but to ask Luke, right?

Jin: Then next time, include me as an option. I know the town well.

Jin: As an older brother, I'm not comfortable burdening only the youngest.

Luke: Jin...

Gilbert: ...Hehe, good. I've been wanting to have a proper chat with you.

Gilbert: I'll consider you for the next sightseeing guide.

Luke: ...Hey.

Gilbert: But right now, I'm asking Luke.

Gilbert: A wise eldest brother like you understands what the most appropriate choice is in this situation, right...?

.

.

.

Part 4

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[genderqueerdykes]

I thought the only one that can have wrist pain is adults with job, but I'm still a teenager and already have it. It got to the point that I can't draw or write for days and it frustrated me. I don't want to be an attention seeker to my parents so i want to know your opinion on it.

anyone can be experiencing pain for whatever reason, it doesn't matter what age you are, you can sprain or injure yourself quite easily on accident. injuries and pains don't have to be from repetitive stress, it can also come from sudden trauma, inflammation around your joints, connective tissue problems and so on. if you aren't able to get the pain to go away after stretching, applying heat and/or cold, resting it, etc. and it persists, it's definitely worth telling someone about, because the normal amount of pain to be in is none!

it's really sad that people make each other feel like attention seekers for needing medical assistance. why do people think those jobs are so plentiful and high paying? it's because they take care of people, they're very busy, they are working very hard for a lot of different people in a lot of different situations. most people end up needing to go to the doctor many times throughout their lives for a variety of reasons and it's so normal. it's okay to want to get checked up, you never know.

especially when you're still physically maturing, things may not be setting into place or growing correctly, or you may be showing symptoms of a condition that is developing. it's always best to be safe, in my book. i've ignored things that i thought were nothing and then it turned out to be very serious. we're all taught to do that. but medical services are there to be used. biology is very strange and human bodies mess up in a lot of ways. i hope that helps, good luck, stay safe out there

[blue-princess-blog]

Half an hour.

Jason comes home from work in half an hour. And you couldn't be more excited. Since running away to the mortal world and you having a baby Jason's been working his new mortal job obsessively.

He works at the grocery store down the street. Close enough to run home if anything were to happen to you or your little baby boy, but far enough away for you to miss him like crazy.

A homemade blueberry pie fresh out the oven cooling off on the table, the apartment was clean minus a few baby toys scattered, and dancing fruit was playing on the big TV as your baby boy sat in his walker bouncing along with some strawberries.

You don't know why your nervous as you look at the clock on your stove. Jason's been living with you for a little over 9 months. Having finally ran away from camp Jupiter when you were 8 months and have been there with you ever since.

Your hands smooth over the tight light blue sundress you know Jason just adores on you. You haven't worn it since you've gotten pregnant. Hell your sure it was the reason you were pregnant in the first place.

It does't fit like it used to. Your boobs still shockingly huge from the pregnancy. Went from a C cup to a double D. Your stomach still stretched and saggy. Your hand rests on your stomach for a little bit.

You didn't find shame nor disgust in it. Just pure joy and... pride. That this was the outcome of having given human life just 8 months ago. You created a human baby boy. Your eyes gaze back at your son.

He's still bouncing in his walker. His blonde hair finally started to grow out and his eyes a summer sky blue. Just like his fathers.

The door opens causing you to jolt not having time to react before Jason opens the door. Still in his work uniform and holding his lunchbox in his hands.

"You look really pretty." Jason murmured with a adoring smile, but there was a hint of a suggestive smirk. Jason looked over at your baby real quick before looking back at you.

You manage a smile a blush forming on your cheeks. Oh goodness you've been together for two years, live together, and have a baby yet somehow you still have a crush on him.

Jason sets his lunchbox on the floor not caring to put it away. More focused on stepping closer to admire you in that sundress he loves. His hands finds your waist and he presses a welcoming kiss to your lips.

"So so pretty." Jason mumbled moving your hips slowly side to side making you shimmy. You giggle feeling ever so cherished and flustered. You didn't even know what to say or do other than blush like an idiot.

Jason gently pulled a strand of your hair behind your ears. "Prettiest mama ever." Jason whispered lovingly over your lips before kissing you softly again.

There was a sharp sequel from your son in the other room. Having noticed his dad has come home he began to get antsy. Jason quickly pecked your lips again before turning back at the boy.

"Hey little man. Been good for mama?" Jason bent down picking up his little boy in his arms. "You better of." Jason gently pinches his cheek. "Because look how pretty mama is."

"You've said that almost five times already." You state although you have no distaste for him saying it. You like compliments. Especially from your man.

"And each one as serious as the first." Jason reminded you walking closer with your baby on his hip. "C'mon little man tell mama how pretty she is." Jason mumbled against your baby's cheek and he shrieked again with a smile.

Jason kissed his cheek and then leaned down to you. "Totally taking that dress off for you later by the way." Jason whispered to you and playfully bit your now burning cheek. A small squeak leaving your lips as he walked away to the table where the pie was.

[tribalauthor]

THE WISEWOMAN R.R AU (CHAPTER 1)

Word count: 2k

It is a snowy Saturday in New York which is perfect for a coffee hangout with friends drinking overpriced hot chocolate or reading a clichè romance book by the fireplace at home but do you know where I am? I am situated in a hospital room, worrying my ass off for my dear uncle Paul.

"Uncle, I hope you get better soon" I was holding his hand. If something happens to him, I would completely lose it. He is the closest family I have after my mother.

He apparently got into an accident earlier and for everybody's surprise, that accident didn't happen in WWE - the place that can literally end you in the hospital especially for a talker like my uncle. But no, it wasn't there. He may have broken his leg in his very own house while he was trying to fix his lightbulb.

Yeah, I know this sounds very dumb but sometimes the dumbest things lead us to accidents.

"Don't worry, Sophia. I'm going to be fine." he assured me with a little nod.

"So Mr. Heyman" the doctor entered in the room. A medium tall man with very short grey-white hair and beard. He was holding an X-ray.

"You see this?" he showed it to me and uncle. I see an X-ray. My mom would be more familiar with this. "I don't know how you fell down but this a serious injury. You will need a lot of rest and time for recovery."

"Yeah, okay. I understand" uncle gave one of his light smiles.

"That means no work" the doctor specified.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Johnson" oh no. Here he goes. The ultimate talker himself, Paul Heyman. "I am the special council for your Tribal Chief, Roman Reigns and he has to prepare for a very important match for the Royal Rumble which is a fatal 4-way match by the way which in case you don't know, it means he has to fight three men at the same time, so he can defend his Undisputed WWE championship and then he has to prepare for Wrestlemania 40." I'm sure the doctor understood close to nothing from what was said. I know uncle gets crazy during Wrestlemania season and now he will get even crazier that he won't be able to work.

"Uncle" I sighed and rolled my eyes. He loves his job. He has always loved his job but he is way too dedicated and that's why he got so far, of course. He is amazing at what he does. I watch his stuff from time to time. I know all of his guys and I know that Roman Reigns is a big deal.

The doctor had the typical look of confusion, probably thinking my uncle is crazy which he is. He is a crazy man indeed but I still love him. He has helped me a lot throughout the years.

Especially after my father died from overdose almost 9 years ago. I was just 18 years old when this happened and uncle still hasn't forgiven his own brother for doing this to me, his only daughter, and my mother who is a very successful surgeon, by the way.

Uncle was the only one who supported me when I said I wanted to major in journalism in Julliard because I think I got that orator skills from him. My mother, of course, wasn't supportive since she wanted me to become a doctor. I mean are we surprised?

But I knew I ain't made for the hospital rooms. I am made for talking. I was born with a big mouth and have talked smack since forever.

After I finished my master's degree program in Mass Communication in Julliard I started an internship in Brooklyn Magazine where I write articles. The editor in chief likes them and she said she sees a high potential in me.

"If you want to recover sooner, Mr. Heyman, you have to stay at home and take a rest. Your wife can take care of you-

"I'm divorced" uncle interrupted him.

"I will take care of you, uncle. No problem." I said immediately.

"No." he just shook his head. Who is gonna take care of him then? My cousins are in college and I'm working a full time job.

"Look, I can ask my boss for less hours work" I tried to persuade him.

"No" he shook this head, saying with the exact same tone as earlier. I see the spark in his eyes. The same spark when he comes up with something.

"I can always hire a lady to take care of me but you, my dear niece, will take my spot temporarily in WWE as a special council for the Tribal Chief, Roman Reigns".

I furrowed my eyebrows so hard that I bet, an enormous wrinkle appeared on my forehead.

"What? Why?"

"This is going to be perfect for your resumè, Sophia. Trust me. Think about this." he seemed absolutely certain.

"Uncle, I want to be a JOURNALIST. To sit around in the studio for the morning shows, wearing my cute little costumes that I'm going to buy with my own money and interviewing politicians, celebrities and all the crazy, pretentious people that come to your mind. I don't wanna be stuck in a wrestling federation interviewing some big ass sweaty men and asking them things like 'So what are you gonna do to your opponent tonight?'. No. That's not my dream. See, the boss told me she sees a big potential in me because of my skills and face card. How am I supposed to leave?"

I just dropped my dramatic monologue about my dreams. And I didn't lie. This is how I've been imagining myself my whole life.

Uncle didn't seemed deeply fazed by this monologue. Indeed, he softened a bit but he still had the look in his eyes, the exact look that he knows he has something against me.

"Okay. Alright, Sophia. Whatever you say. I get your point. I'm not going to force you but didn't you say you want to take care of me?" I see where the things are going right now.

"Yes but that's-" he didn't even let me finish my point because he knows another monologue is coming. We rarely argue but boy, when we do, things get crazy.

"Taking my place temporarily in WWE is the best way you can help me and yourself as well. It's a win-win situation." he flashed one of his cute little innocent smiles but he knows very well he ended me with using my phrase and the "help" part.

I just pressed my lips, closed my eyes in defeat and took a deep sigh.

"Also don't make me mention the fact that you are always going to travel around the country and even the world and if you get your dream job in CNN or GMA or like you called them "morning shows", you aren't gonna travel much, for the record. You are going to be stuck in the same thing over and over again but in WWE you have the variety of experiences and you are going to see for yourself. Also WWE is the best place you can get recognition which will lead to big opportunities beyond your imagination."

And with this statement uncle just solidified himself even more as the righteous one. The part about opportunities may be no lie.

"Plus, in WWE you can wear your "cute little suits" as you referred. Allow me to send you some money and buy yourself something" he took out his phone and transferred me some money.

"Okay, uncle. I got your point already. Alright. I'm going to be your replacement...temporary." I specified.

"Temporary, of course. I would never let you take my job, Sophia. As much as I love you, you know the grip it has on me."

"I am fully aware" I chuckled and rolled my eyes.

"You will see how easy it is to work with Roman Reigns." Uncle seemed weirdly excited.

"That Aquaman ass guy? He ain't giving me those vibes but whatever you say, I guess. You know him better than me." I shrugged. Uncle always talks in superlatives when it comes to Roman Reigns. He ain't even talking about me and my cousins like that, so we get lowkey jealous.

"I want you to behave in front of him, okay? And Jey and Jimmy too. Save the smack talk for the rest of the roster." he knows how dangerous I can get when I start talking.

"Got it, uncle" I rolled my eyes for the millionth time today. We will see how these guys are going to treat me and I will decide how to behave. But from what uncle has told me they seem like great men but at the end of the day, I'm going to be the judge of that.

"Alright. Now I'm gonna make a few calls. I am going to call Roman, Hunter and even your boss if you want to. Then I'm going to tell you all about work.

"I'm gonna tell my boss, don't worry about that." I assured him.

...

"So tomorrow you have a meeting with Triple H aka Paul Levesque aka your temporary boss and after that Roman will show you around the building and everything. He may even add some stories for the business from his point of view. Agh." uncle sighed and had a big grin on his face. "He is an amazing man, Sophia. The biggest single star in the whole sports entertainment. If someday you bring me a nephew in law, I wish him to be as Roman - successful, strong, loyal and dedicated."

"Chill, uncle. You ain't at work right now." I couldn't help but laugh at him.

Honestly right now, I don't want any man. Two months ago I ended my relationship with Robert Mayer. We graduated at the same university but he was from the Law Department. Does a laywer and journalist sound like a great match?

That's what I thought.

"Dad, how are you?" my cousins flashed in the room. They are a few years younger than me and they are so cute, honestly. We exchanged a hug.

"I am gonna be okay, kids" uncle couldn't help but smile at them. "As long as I have you three, I am always going to be okay."

"We told mom about this". Jason said.

"Why? What have I told you? You don't tell your mother anything about me". He scolded my cousins. Uncle can't really stand aunt.

"Don't worry, she is not coming". Amanda assured him. She looks exactly like aunt when she was young, though. Blonde hair and brown eyes. She looks nothing like uncle but his son does. He just has hair...still.

I got the blue eyes from my father and uncle and the blonde hair from mom since she is also a natural blondie but a very skilled surgeon.

Somebody entered in the room as well. That must be aunt. I haven't seen her in ages but I couldn't mistake her.

"What did you do, Paul?" she scolded him. They still have that "married couple attitude" although they have been divorced for so long and as much uncle claims that he cannot stand her, I know it's not completely true. She is the mother of his kids after all.

"Oh Lord, please save me" uncle started baptising and looking up at the ceiling.

"Chill your dramatic ass down and let me see what have you done" she went to him and smiled at me mouthing "Hi", I did as well.

I waved at my cousins and uncle goodbye because I intend to leave them alone.

"No, Sophia. Don't leave me" he begged.

"I have to prepare for tomorrow, remember? It's a big day" I replied while walking to the door. "I'm going to contact you tomorrow and make sure to keep me updated of your condition" these were my last words before I exited the room and dialed my boss' number.

[mullermilkshake]

The rose garden - Chapter 4

I will be uploading the whole thing here, it's just going take a little time, but if you want to read more right now, there's more on my AO3 <3

Summary - You are just an author wanting to put your writing out there and carry on with your life, but when two people end up murdered, things you write about seem to be more real than just pure fiction.

Pairing - Yandere!Suguru Geto x Fem!Reader / Detective!Satoru Gojo x Fem!reader (Sort of. One sided)

Word count - 3.9k

Tags (master list for the entire fic, will add TW for significant tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!! PLEASE READ THE TAGS!!!,NSFW,SMUT,NO USE OF Y/N,Yandere!Getou Suguru, graphic depictions of violence, major character death Porn With Plot,Porn with Feelings,Established Relationship,PleasureDom,Codependency,Murder,Torture,Conspiracy,Cunnilingus,Orgasm Control,Multiple Orgasms,Minor Original Character(s),psychiatry,Medication,Power Imbalance,Vaginal Fingering,Disembowelment,Manipulation,Gaslighting,Rimming, Praise Kink,Grinding,mentions of blowjobs,Dry Humping,thigh riding,Dark,Autopsy,Aftercare,Hunting,Guns,Perceived infidelity,Body Horror,Smoking,Vaginal Sex,Misogyny,Public Stimulation,One sided sexual tension,Invasion of Privacy,Strangulation,Reader-Insert,Serious Satoru Gojo,Orgasm Edging,Obsession,Accidental Voyeurism,Angst,Questions of masculinity, stabbing, shooting

Fan mail.

Some people get fan mail. Some get copious amounts and they don't know what to do with it.

Tags for chapter - NSFW, Ass eating, rimming, cream pie, multiple orgasms, obsessive fan mail, crotch rubbing, kissing, oral / blow job referenced, murder mystery, grinding

I just wanted to tell you that I am your number one fan, Love. 

Keep writing and doing everything that makes you happy. 

You’re perfect. 

—

Fifteen hours prior to the discovery of the bodies. 

“Oh Suguru. Just like that…” You and your fiancé made it to the car after he returned late from work, but you hadn’t made it to the cabin. 

Not yet. That’s how the night had started.

About half an hour into the journey, the tension between the two of you was so palpable, Suguru stopped the car down an old winding road that frequented no one and switched the engine off.

Now, he had you bent over in the back, fingers straight inside you with his face between your cheeks, keeping an earth shattering orgasm away from you. You liked to be teased every now and then, and when you confessed to touching yourself after he left for work that morning, he could not help but voice his disappointment that he wasn’t there to do it for you.

“It’s my job to take care of you, isn’t it? There’s no place on earth where you should have to take care of that itch yourself.”

Being your former therapist meant that he knew what words to use to extract the right information from you without even making you aware of it.

“You left for work and I was all worked up-”

“I’ll be your husband soon. What sort of husband would I be if I let you come all by yourself?” He licked your hole with purpose, running his tongue the entire length between your ass cheeks and pumping his fingers like the pro he was.

He would be your husband, as soon as this book was finished. You’d walk down the aisle to join him in the next chapter of your lives and in a way it was one of the greatest anxieties you were going to face. Perhaps that’s why the book wasn’t even started yet.

No, you were ready to become Mrs Geto, for that you were so sure you would have bet your life on it, but it was a big leap nonetheless. Though you wouldn’t have gone this far with anyone else.

Here Suguru was, supporting you on your journey whilst also pursuing his own career among other things and he did it all with a smile on his face. The man was a god and treated you so well, better than most.

“Then let me come- please I can’t take it anymore.” It was as though he’d edged you for hours.

There was no other man like Suguru. You were way too lucky to not compare yourself to other women for him. Why you, when there were so many beautiful people in the world?

Though he squashed that intrusive thought down at every opportunity.

“You can’t wait another few minutes, sweetheart?” He cooed, placing precious kisses over the squidgy mass of your ass. “I love seeing you like this.”

No you couldn't. Not with the way he was using your body. “N-no. Don’t make me wait. Please, hon.”

It was like his fingers just knew what position to be in to prolong that tight knit suppressive orgasm until he allowed it. “You ask so nicely. It’s good you use your words clearly when you take my fingers so well.”

Every word of praise rolled off of his tongue like butter that dripped and seared and sizzled onto the scolding surface that was your naked body behind the condensated windows of Suguru’s old vintage car.

“Tell me again. Please? I’ll give you everything in the world if you do.”

Nothing equated to him. All you ever wanted was him. “Let me come, Suguru. Please let me come.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” All it took was a shift of his wrist and he changed the way his fingers curved, like it unlocked a new characteristic in a game.

Just like that, you were coming over his hand, clenched around his fingers in suspended silence as he kissed your sweat ridden skin. “Good girl, that’s better, huh?”

You finally found your breath and took a large inhale. “Fuck- Yes, yes it’s good!”

The orgasm shook your body, made it tremble and jerk but Suguru held you there in his firm grip. He was built like a bulldozer, far too strong for you if you ever decided to take him on in a flirtatious battle of physical strength. Suguru could throw you over his shoulder like you were nothing, so your body reactions held still.

Long, drawn out, numbing you from the waist down. “Fuck me Suguru, fuck me!”

Suguru pulled your bottom half towards him and he bottomed out inside you faster than you ever thought was possible, cock buried deep without so much as a sound except from your squeal of pleasure.

Your face laid against the leather interior of the seats, squashed down as he fucked you, grasping at your hands and pulling them behind to lay flat on your back in his one hand, the other gently holding the base of your neck in such a tight space.

The whole ideal made your eyes roll, still coming down from your orgasm, hoping and praying Suguru would come too. You wanted it inside you, deep inside you so that it wouldn’t drip out down your thighs at least until you made it to the cabin.

You’d hate for it to get all over the seats.

He wouldn’t do it unless you asked, you knew that. “C-come inside me. I want you-”

“Oh really?” His voice was still so calm and unbroken. “That’s what you want, is it?”

“Yes. Y-yes..”

“Alright then.” Suguru moved his fingers to your soaked clit and rubbed with such miniscule movements you hadn’t actually noticed until you were coming again unexpectedly.

Your moans were stifled by how your head and neck was, and in all that mess, Suguru pressed his hips into you, releasing himself just as you asked. Perfect. His pretty huffs of satisfaction filled the car as he filled you too.

There was no break in his voice. “Look at you, angel. That was a long time clenching, you must be so exhausted.”

Exhausted enough just to lay in the back seat and cuddle until morning, yeah. The last time you checked, it was already past eleven o’clock. The cabin was only another forty five minutes away, though when Suguru got situated and pulled you into a close embrace in the back seats, well, maybe the cabin could wait.

“Y’know, maybe we should just stay here until the morning.” You squeezed your thighs together to make sure nothing dribbled out.

He’d probably agree. Suguru usually did, except when he didn’t. “I’ll give the whole world, but I don’t think it’s wise being out here in the lanes for too long.”

You pouted, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “No one is around, the doors are locked. It’s getting pretty late.”

The forwardness made him chuckle. “And you don’t know what sort of deranged people lurk around the woods at night. I’ve treated some of those people.” He pressed his lips to your forehead. “As much as I’d love to, we should be getting on our way… before I get distracted again and then we’ll never get to the cabin.”

Looking up at him, you could see the adoration in his eyes, “Fine. I guess we could wait until we get there.”

“You’re never this forward. Did getting that award go to your head, Miss author? Maybe I should encourage it. This confidence is way too important to ignore.” 

His words could have lulled you into a deep sleep, and for a moment, they almost did. “I don’t know, I guess I’m ready to just write my book and I’ll work hard to be the best writer I can be. I guess that starts at home, right?”

Suguru nodded, the pads of his fingertips grazed your skin absentmindedly. “It does.”

“We worked on my confidence for so long in those sessions and I know you still try and encourage it.” Well, sex just turned into an impromptu therapy session. “I guess I was just feeling a little invisible, in the background with all of those people.”

The award ceremony was the straw that broke the camel's back for your confidence. No invite, no consideration and no one cared. All you wanted to do was write, but there was a barrier every step of the way.

“I think I’ll feel better when I hear back from the publishing house.” Five publishers, five chances. You were unmistakably certain that all five would not agree, but you held out hope that one would come back at least.

“What can I do?”

“You do everything I could ask for and more. You make me feel seen even when no one else remembers me… I’m pushing my confidence in hopes that it’ll help me write this book.”

“Still having trouble, huh?”

“A little, but I’ll get there. I want to walk down that aisle soon enough.”

Suguru smiled sweetly, bringing you in but an inch, kissing you just as sweetly with just a passionate flair he always had down perfectly to add a touch of electricity down the base of your spine.

“I look forward to it, sweetie. Let’s get you dressed, I can already feel goosebumps over your arms. Why don’t we get going and put the fireplace on when we arrive? There’s still wood cut from last time.”

The fireplace was the best place in that cabin to snuggle and fuck. It was certain that you were not going to sleep much tonight and had to try and start your book on little sleep. “You drive a hard bargain, Doctor Geto.”

“I guess I do.”

It was way past midnight by the time you had reached the cabin. A quaint little place tucked away past the various web-like lane roads and settled nicely by a picturesque lake like something out of a horror-thriller movie.

It was perfectly perfect. Even in the pitch dark, the moon bounced off of the lake like a glass mirror that lit up the entire surrounding area. 

You remembered the first time Suguru brought you out here, now making it a thrice yearly solid get away for some isolation and well needed rest. 

Many things had changed since you came here for the first time. Plenty of additional furniture to the once bachelor pad to make it homely and welcome. Suguru did all of those things, adding whatever you liked and surprised you with the most romantic gestures as was his love language.

His love language extended out into the garden as well.

“I can’t wait to see the rose garden.” You searched your best in the dark, but the bushes were put to sleep.

The rose garden took up most of the outdoor space except some furniture to admire the view. It was your favourite place to sit and write, drink your steaming morning beverages, and as it was getting colder during the nights, the morning dew dripping off of the red petals and onto the pretty pea gravel made your heart melt.

He did all of that for you. Another surprise.

Suguru pulled up into the driveway. “I came to check it a few weeks back. It was doing pretty well, but with the cold, we'll need to prune them back before they die.” 

That meant having umpteen vases rammed with fragrant roses around the cabin and more to bring back with you.

“I wanted to bring roses home for you tonight, but the florist had closed early.” He said, taking off his seatbelt and climbing out to open your door himself.

“That’s alright,” You smiled and took his hand. “Those in the garden are my favourite. Just the thought is enough.”

“I can still do this though.”

“What do you mean- Oh!” Suguru scooped you up in an instant. You yelped and chuckled as he closed the car door with his foot and carried you to the cabin door.

“I have to get practice for when we do this for real. It’s the only way to get it perfect when I carry you over the threshold.” The wedding. 

You tucked your face into his neck and listened for the jingling of his keys and click of the locked door. “I get the feeling you just like carrying me about.”

“Maybe I do. Perhaps I should have you on my back so I can make dinner, then you won’t have to walk around at all-” The door opened and it sounded like an avalanche at the front door.

“What is that?” Envelopes. Lots and lots of envelopes.

Suguru placed you down gently and flicked the main hallway light on. You knelt down to study them and pick one up. “They’re… addressed to me. Wait- all of them?”

How odd.

Scooping them out of the way with your foot so Suguru could close and lock the door was easy, but reading them and counting them were not. There were literally hundreds.

Fan mail. 

“I have more fan mail than I thought I’d ever get- I mean I didn’t think I’d get any at all…” You had managed to get them all up onto the coffee table by the fireplace.

“I’ll get the fireplace lit and make us some coffee, why don’t you give them a read?”

Some letters were short, like a few sentences long, and others were pages with words of affirmation and admiration to not only your writing, but to you as well. You weren’t sure how to take it in this quantity.

The writing was different most of the time, but your gut was telling you that it was the same person. They were not graphic or threatening, rather, they were pleasant and content to comfort you if you were ever feeling down. You just didn't expect someone to care about you like this besides Suguru.

—

Please keep writing. 

Ever since I read the first sentence on page one for the first time, I was entranced by the beauty of each word you put down on paper. Your beautiful storytelling and way with details makes my heart simply leap with joy. 

You are truly amazing and should never give up, even if no one sees. I know you'll get your first award soon enough and I’ll be right there waiting and watching that big moment. The whole fan base will and we’ll all be there to support you forever. 

I’m your number one fan and always will be. 

You’re doing a great job. 

—

Hello, 

I saw your interview on that podcast. I thought it was amazing, you did so well speaking  publicly and really made us understand the twists and turns of ‘A fate sealed’ and even got me to understand more of where your head was when you wrote this. 

I know there's a lot of dark stuff in all of us and you just harnessed that energy and made the most amazing art piece with it. I’d love to see you do another podcast, but maybe with a different guy, because he seemed really pushy on what questions he was asking.  

You did so well in standing on your own. Well done! 

—

Hello,  

I just want to say that I read your book front to back in a day because it was so good. I have to let you know that I cannot wait for your new book to launch and I will be there right up front to receive it and slam my money down. 

The first sentence always gets me and I’m just as excited to read the first one of this new book too. Your agent has done a fantastic job at advertising and I have told all of my friends to pick up your book and read it.  

I’ve even told my mother to recommend this to her book club. 

—

“Wow, I’m… I don’t know.” The fire crackled in front, spitting little embers against the fire guard. The letters were all opened, all one hundred and twelve of them. “I knew some people enjoyed reading my book but… This is- I’m humbled that I’ve made this many people happy.”

Suguru had stayed up with you the entire time. “I hope you can put your confidence behind these. I think they’re a great way to support you if you ever get side tracked.”

He took a sip of his coffee and covered the two of you in a knitted blanket as the chill through the cabin came in. You leant back into him and fiddled with his fingers where they draped over your shoulder from the back of the sofa.

“I guess I could, yeah. These letters are so thoughtful and people took the time to send them to me.” You noticed the various different coloured picture stamps and handwriting.

Each one meticulously written and sealed with love and admiration just for your eyes only, just because your work crossed their mind at some point during their day.

“Letters are great ways of having physical reminders.” Suguru wrapped his fingers around yours. “It shows you how far you’ve come too.”

That much was true. You were only a timid thing when you met Suguru, walking up to his office with the address you wrote down in your trembling hand. You weren’t sure what to expect when you finally met the man you had yet to speak to.

You didn’t expect the man sitting in the leather padded armchair with a clipboard and pen over his lap to be the man you shared a bed with just eighteen months down the line.

Suguru adjusted his glasses and took them off of his face, taking the little cord that attached them around his neck and placed them down on the coffee table and piles of paper. He shifted down and turned, getting you between his legs and cradling you in his arms.

“I never thought I would be so privileged to have you here in my arms. I really am the luckiest man in the world.” He held you lovingly.

“I think I’m the lucky one.” You were in a place you felt safest. “I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you at my side…”

And that is where you left it, falling asleep there on the sofa next to the crackling fire and warmth permeating your cheeks until it died out in the morning, the little embers disappearing in the dark to wait for the sunrise to flutter your eyelids open.

You didn’t want to move, nor did you want to even open your eyes. Suguru’s chest rose and fell smoothly under your head and almost sent you back off to sleep. You were on vacation after all, there was nowhere you needed to be, but you did need to start making notes on your book.

It wasn't going to write itself.

Little did you know that Suguru was actually awake, he tightened his grip around you when you made an attempt to get up.

“Not just yet.” He said, his sleepy gruff voice was hushed. “Give us another hour. I’ll keep you warm.”

You did very little to rub the sleep from your eyes, still in your clothes from last night. “An hour? If we don’t get up now, I don’t think we ever will today.”

He huffed with much amusement. “So let’s leave today and try again tomorrow.”

So lazy… “There are other ways to keep me warm y’know?” You squirmed around with much difficulty and faced him. “I can name a few just off the top of my head.”

“Tempting me with sex, huh? You just know I can’t ever refuse you, don’t you?” Suguru’s eyes remained closed, but he adjusted his hips and allowed you to straddle them.

“I do.” Because Suguru lived and breathed pleasing you. He made that frequently clear. “And what would make me really happy is letting me do this…” His cock was hard, it twitched as soon as you touched it.

“I'm the one who should be pleasing you, not the other way around.”

“This is what pleases me.” You cooed, palming him slowly to get a reaction. It was incredibly rare that you could corner him like this, letting his walls down enough to get the drop on him.

“Does it now?” 

Your response was a good way to give him what he wanted out of it, even though you just wanted to take care of him like he did to you most nights.

“Yeah… So let me take care of you, hon.” Massaging his thighs was always a good way to get him riled up.

Grinding your hips over his cock was too.

Suguru kept his eyes closed, his hand felt up your shoulder and neck, thumb brushing your cheek with irregularity. He was hard enough to sit on already, though you contemplated what you could do to really let him enjoy it.

Sucking him off seemed like a good idea. He always enjoyed that when he let you.

Planting a short kiss on his lips, you moved your way down his neck, sucking and nipping his throat, each time getting lower and lower, moving your hips back and forth using the friction to ramp things up.

“You’re so pretty, Suguru. Always taking good care of me. Always being-” There was an unexpected knock at the door.

Suguru’s eyes finally opened, though he didn’t pay the door any mind. “Ignore it. It’s probably the mail.” To add the emphasis, he grasped your ass and pushed you further into him.

It felt good, the sensation against you. “It’s me who should be doing that. You can’t turn it off can you-” The door knocked again, louder and more forceful with purpose.

“I guess we better get that then.” Suguru huffed and shifted his weight so that you could climb off.

“It’s alright, I’ll get it. Wait here and when I’m back, we’ll carry on where we started.”

There was one silhouette at the door, and upon opening it, there was a man in sunglasses and the most strikingly snow white hair you had ever seen. Suguru had made his way off of the sofa.

“Can I help you?” You said, adjusting your hair to being somewhat presentable from the way you slept.

He held his police badge up. “Sorry to bother you, I’m Detective Satoru Gojo. I’m making house calls and I have some questions surrounding a homicide that took place the night before last.”

“A homicide?- what time is it-” You hadn’t looked at the clock yet, must have still been early.

The Detective rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s four in the afternoon, actually.”

Suguru opened the door further and got between you and the man. “Of course, Detective. Please, come in and I’ll put the coffee on.”

A homicide…

A Detective turning up out of the blue…

Something you never actually thought would happen right on your doorstep. It sounded like something out of dark-thriller fiction.

But who was this involving?

Your stomach lurched just thinking about it.

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Tag list -> If you want to be tagged, let me know! <3

DISCLAIMER - I do not own any of the characters of Jujutsu Kaisen. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

The side characters and advanced plot is my own work. A gift for @vampir-queen and original idea for this fic is their's.

Also Please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[theohshit-r-official]

Long-as-hell OOC post incoming

So, I feel I should probably clarify this, on account of shit going on in the zeitgeist re: Lancer RP on here, and because I and this blog am not an entrenched figure in the community here, so it pays to be as clear as possible what I am here for:

First, let me clarify: this is not about anyone in particular, and god knows I'm guilty of not doing some of the shit I'm going to recommend here. Second, this is, in addition to not being about any one person but instead the different microcultural elements I've noticed on here, mostly a post to explain what *I* am going for with this blog so that *YOU* can decide if or how you want to engage with it and me.

The primary purpose of this blog is as follows and as I will elaborate on here:

To serve as a place for people to dump their shitposts, serious opinions, and in-world takes they don't necessarily want to put out via an established character blog or their main in a more centralized place. This means I WILL publish most shit people send, even if some of the implications are not so great, though I won't publish some of the more egregious shit on account of it sucks. See this article [LINK HERE] for an example of something similar being done by a real world political figure (notably, a known inspiration for the Ungratefuls' Tyrannocleave) for a much better purpose than mine.

This ALSO means I will likely be publishing from people not immersed in the community or party to your established norms. I understand that online spaces largely run on reputation, but I, out of character as well as to some extent in, am an academic and I'm pretty well informed of both positive and negative consequences of this, and this is an intentional choice. DM me or send an ask labeled as OOC if you want to talk about this, I'm happy to discuss it, I'm just not likely to change my stance on it on account of "This is a heavily established, pretty well-researched concept in human social dynamics" so don't expect me to change what I'm doing from the jump. With that being said, let's lay out the motivation a bit:

Part of the appeal of LANCER that was explicitly intentionally designed by its creators is that there are both large structures of recalcitrant, sticky politics (see: Albatross hunts pirates, a group known to exist largely due to economic suffering, for a megacorp that sells weapons to pirates; the KTB is required to maintain an absurd level of extractive industry by Union, which favors their most abjectly fucking awful major house politically; etc) that serve as a shared bedrock for engagement and are pointedly shitty as hell *AND* large swathes of space where you can largely do pretty much whatever you want and have things be as good or as bad as you want so long as you avoid having them be run directly and heavy-handedly by the major players (as a brief sidebar, if you want an example of someone doing an excellent job of navigating the intersection of the larger players and the open, freer space and a damn good homebrew module, I highly recommend Vex Werewolf's In Golden Flame Act 1 [LINK HERE]). LANCER is a game where both the narrative impetus and mechanics are intrinsically tied to political context and dynamics, and the way LANCER allows for space from that for players and GMs is to have a lot of literal space unaccounted for.

The implication of this, of course, is that it is intended to be an equally valid mode of enjoyment to get really into the weeds of the established politics (hello, Siren Song, cannot WAIT to play an idiot in you and see how you break her) OR to not do that and avoid it entirely, but, and this is key, you cannot really feasibly do both at once reliably at scale without a lot of care and awareness, and I do not think that that is a reasonable expectation to have of total strangers on Tumblr. The official Discord community for this game has a rule to the effect of "Do not use your comfort to stifle political discussion unless ABSOLUTELY necessary" (very, very roughly paraphrased), and instead encourages disengaging from shit you do not want to deal with. To give an example of how that translates to practical domains, in the context of the game, if you didn't want to have to deal with Harrison culture, you wouldn't play a game on Ras Shamra, so why would you choose to pursue a conversation with someone playing a proud character from Ras Shamra on here if you don't want to hear what that character would say?

A lot of the conflict on here seems to stem from people being frustrated with people from one side of the aisle or the other interacting with them without establishing rules of engagement and/or where they stand on "I want to enjoy a sci-fi power fantasy without thinking too much about the implications" versus "I really want to dig in on the psyche of a proud Harrison soldier," both of which are equally valid ways to engage with the setting and the game. They come into conflict in no small part because many people in the prior category are expressly interested in using the mechanics of a mecha setting to tell a mostly feel-good story without the political meat and grit of the original setting materials, which, I'll especially note, is not something people coming from other mecha contexts are likely to expect. This means that you have a conflict between people interested in one mode of engagement (which, if I had to guess, comes more frequently from a general tabletop gaming background) and others interested in a very different mode of engagement coming from differing backgrounds, including but not limited to the broader world of mecha fans.

(NOTE: I am not saying that these groups are totally distinct or that this is the sole reason conflict happens, I'm just trying to give a more fleshed out example for people who are less familiar with the draw of the grit. I think the mecha community is a good example for this, as it is both something that a lot of people are peripheral to AND a cultural context a lot of people really don't understand from the outside)

Let me elaborate a little here on where the mecha side of things is coming from, for those of you less familiar. The arguable single most influential piece of mecha media in much of the world (Neon Genesis Evangelion) is in part an express exploration of the ethics of military recruitment and the use of child soldiers. The fact that this piece of media has recently been used to sell McDonald's does not change that weight in the culture of mecha media, nor does it change that, historically, mecha is a genre about war. The most prolific mecha series by far is Gundam, whose villains famously have a point and whose protagonists infamously tend to develop through deeply traumatic realizations that they may not be the unambiguous good guys they thought they were. Mecha media, on the whole, pointedly cultivates a strong sense of engagement in setting geopolitics, the ethics and process of war, and the role of individuals as vehicles of violence, and people coming from a heavy mecha background are likely to be invested in exploring these themes.

That being said, I totally respect wanting to engage with it from another angle, but you can see how people wanting a more free-form, canon-lite experience and people who are coming from a mecha background looking for the nitty gritty of the established, shared setting could come into conflict, particularly when it comes to making claims about established parts of the setting. Of course, in character conflict is fine and well and dandy if that's what you're going for, no shame in that, this is more to do with the out of character aspects, including how you respond to and handle in character conflict.

Here's the thing: this dichotomy of interest does not favor a single, fully connected network of people heavily interacting. It does not favor a community with a single set of hard norms. It favors a lot of individual level variation, it favors many smaller sets of norms between individuals, and it favors good communication about those differences. I am aligned with the creators of LANCER in that I think both approaches to engaging with the material have value, and I want there to be space for both here, and I agree with them that the two are not always compatible. To preserve space for both, we need to prioritize curating our own experience over policing others', which, I know, shocking that the person who linked Anarchists Welcome would make a statement about taking an anarchistic approach to maintaining a stable, healthy social context which allows for conflict.

This is one of the reasons that I, in running this blog, have consciously chosen to almost exclusively respond to other people's posts who I actually have spoken to out of character, despite Umommiest being an extremely vocal HORUS shitposter, because I often cannot tell from character blogs what their relationship to the shared text is and their interest in different modes of interaction. This is ALSO why I'm going to be fairly indiscriminate in publishing asks and submissions, and only have Umommiest respond to what gets sent in when either prompted directly by the material or when it is plainly a shitpost that allows for some play (see also: the 8 year old seeking liberation via artillery platform and soft target elimination frames). As is quite well known in the kink community, consent does not occur in character, and personal norms and interests should be established outside of them. If there is a character blog on here that you have concerns about or want to interact with but are unsure how to proceed, DM them and check in, the same way that you would talk to someone if you wanted to join a game of pickup basketball or something. This is a social activity, social activities have fairly well established means by which to initiate them in a more intentional manner, let's make a point to start using them more consistently.

With that being said, if there is a character blog that you do not want to see, block them. There will be characters that people choose to play that you personally A will not like and B may not wish to engage with. Use the curation tools you have rather than relying on norms all the time, as norms develop from consensus and require other people to change to work. You don't have to put it on others to tailor your experience. I will go somewhere else rather than deal with somebody I don't want to talk to at a bar, and this is a similar sort of interaction. Blocking is not a condemnation, it is a choice to not engage with someone or something you do not want to. On my end, I will be doing my best to consistently tag in-character posts, reblogs, etc with ohshitumommiest going forward so you can block the tag as described here [LINK HERE] if you want to see what people are submitting without any of Umommiest's commentary, responses, etc. I'm also thinking I'll move towards initially publishing even the shitpostier things without commentary and then following up with a reblog with the commentary (so if you want to see just what other people make and not her bullshit, that's cool, too).

For the record, I *am* personally interested in the politics of the setting and Umommiest is a character that is heavily written based on the canon. She is also, frankly, a HORUS shitposter of the highest and worst degree, if you can't tell from her demeanor, and will engage with people who comment in character on posts here as would reflect a highly informed, terminally online political agitator with no formal affiliation to anyone who sees all of her speech as largely without personal consequence. Part of the purpose of the ohshitumommiest tag is to allow you to engage with the submitted material without having to see if and how she replies to you if you are not interested in that. If you are, hey! Looking forward to having some fun together with this horrible girl I've made!

Frankly, I don't care where you fall on the spectrum/split of hard text engagement versus loose text as inspiration, but I do care that everyone has an outlet for shitposts and other art/thought pieces on the setting that they think are gold or at least fun but don't have a place for personally. I think Lancer fucking rules, and people have a lot of cool, funny, and beautiful thoughts and ideas on it regardless of affiliation on these grounds, and I want to make this a place to share them without too much worry of how they fit a given blog.

If that nondiscriminatory approach to publishing is unacceptable to you, cool, I don't care, block this blog. Maybe read the linked article first and see if that helps you see a different perspective a little, but, please, use the basic curation tools available to you on this site to help maintain a diverse community that reflects the varied appeal of LANCER's setting.

With that said, play ball, and I'm looking forward to continuing to see the awesome, wild, wonky, and frankly unhinged shit this community continues to create!

PS: if you want to anonymously publish something with a link or an image via this blog, please DM me and I will effectively spoof a submission so your blog does not have to be attached. You run the risk of me knowing that you sent it, but it doesn't get broadcast to the world.

PPS I know that there are some other folks on here who engage with other LANCER online communities (e.g., the official Discord) who share much of the opinions I expressed here, particularly the "Hey there are different, conflicting way to enjoy the setting, and having some understanding around that is healthy for the community" stance, so feel free to share this around as you like.

[weclassybouquetfun]

With the debut of M. IL FIGLIO DEL SECOLO / M. SON OF THE CENTURY

with a shiny new clip

nearing there are more articles/interviews with Luca Marinelli coming out and even though he has been promoting this series for some time now, I guess the Italian public is waking up to it and Luca talking about how difficult for him to step into the mindset of Benito Mussolini is shaking the table.

Luca is getting the Jeremy Strong (SUCCESSION, THE APPRENTICE) treatment. Jeremy, a method actor,

He's a serious actor...don't let this outfit fool you.

gets a lot of guff for taking his craft so seriously. Well, now people are slagging off Luca for taking the role to heart.

Luca, get behind me!

More hateration and more Luca

We have such a culture of grinding and doing your best, but for some reason people don't respect that in actors. It's their job to make things truthful and each actor has their own yardstick on how deep they want to go. I don't understand why people act like they don't comprehend how roles can imprint on an actor? James McAvoy talked about doing (the great) film FILTH and that his then-wife Anne-Marie Duff would have to rein him in because he started acting like his foul and crass character Bruce. I need people to act like they have some common sense.

Anyhoo...

And in non-Luca news, Marwan Kenzari and Nora Ponse (finally) tied the knot!!!

[shatcey]

Hi, I do not know if you are still here or if you have already returned to the real world (it sounds like you are a bird in a cage), but either way, I think I need to say a few words to you. Some might say "a lot", but for me it's "a few".

I know exactly what you mean. I also translate using apps, and it's really tough. I use a lot of apps and rephrase sentences so many times to make them sound "pretty." It indeed took a lot of time. And sometimes it seems that I'm not translating from Japanese, but from a very strange language that no one except us who read mechanical translations even aware of. It's a really odd language. But I'm only translating screenshots. I'm really impressed with how you managed to translate an entire chapter in 4 hours. You must be a magician.

I think that translators, no matter what they use, knowledge of the language or applications, do a hell of a job. It's incredibly hard and absolutely ungrateful work. So they are SAINTS by definition. And it's very difficult when you spend hours and days on something, put a lot of yourself into it, and people don't notice it. The desire to do something serious disappears. What's the point, right?.. If this happens to me, I think there are people who really like what I do and who are waiting for it. There aren't many of them, but there are such people. And I don't wanna disappoint them. It's not about numbers. Even if I'm doing something for one person, it's already a lot, because I'm not just doing it for myself. I got emotional, sorry.

What you're experiencing right now is emotional burnout. It seems that many of us feel the same way these days. I think it's something like winter depression (is it a thing?) or vitamin deficiency (don't forget to eat fruits and vegetables!). I feel tired myself, and sometimes I really wonder why I even spend so much time on this. But I can't stop. It's like I'm running on the surface of the water: if I stop, I'll drown. But YOU CAN stop. You can go back to real life. For a few weeks, even months, look around, get some fresh air, so to speak. You can try to remember why you started this in the first place. This is a HUGE project. You knew from the very beginning that it would be difficult. What was the reason that inspire you to start? What motivated you to continue? And maybe if you remember that, you'll find the answer to your question, whether you want to continue or not.

No one is forcing you to do anything. You may or may not complete this project. It's up to you. The most important thing is that you enjoy the process. So take your time and be free to do what you want (isn't that too much sound like William?).

In conclusion, I want to say that you have done a lot and you have done it splendidly. And I want to say thank you very much, because I am sure that many are just shy or forgot to say it.

Maybe it's because I'm in a really bad mood currently but I'm really not sure if it's even worth it posting my translations anymore. I know I've been slow and I know it's machine translated but I still put a lot of work into it. Using several translators to get the truest meaning possible, changing the flow of words, looking up english terms because it's not my main language. I need about 3-4 hours for one chapter, that's a lot considering I've got work and school and a high need for sleep.

I know people surely got their reasons for not interacting with my translations anymore. Anymore because when I started with Ellis' main route tl, I was swarmed and now the interactions have gone down to about 5 likes per tl. I'm aware that I have 2 or 3 people who basically hit the like button right after I post and I'm truly grateful I've got at least these few people but it still kinda hurts, you know? Putting in so much time, all for naught basically.

I could only keep myself kind of motivated to continue translating by focusing on specific parts of Ellis' route where I wanted to know what was actually going on. But now that I've reached the last avatar story of the blind end, I basically know the gist of his story.

Maybe some of you wonder now 'wait, blind end? you only posted up to chapter 14.' Yes, you read that right. My motivation is so low that I ask myself 'why even bother posting fast anymore?' It's not like that's going to change anything.

Am I fishing for compliments here? I guess I am. I'm a person who needs positive, supportive words to continue. You know, some kind of recognition. I'm not saying that likes aren't enough, but compared to reblogs or even a little 'thank you' or 'I hope you're doing good, don't pressure yourself', posts with only likes simply get lost in the vast world of tumblr.

For anyone who has read that far, I hope you aren't put off by me. I'm simply a person who always works their ass off because that's the only way for me to feel valid in this world.