#......how does one.......stream......for people..........

[rotapathetic]

͏͏͏✧྅ ˚ . ᯇ ̎̿͞͞͞͞͞͞͞͞ ིུ͠* grw TWITCH STREAMER!RAFE but he talks about you the entire time ਉl̈́ਉ * :.･ﾟ･ 🎧

❝she’s so sweet❞ : bold text is stream chat! 💬

STREAMER who can never stop talking about you grwm quick stream

RAFE ™ pulled the belt through his loops, titling a brow at his pants. “she showed me a trick for my belt, i forgot it, hold on.” he took a moment to stand there in front of the camera and remember what you told him.

user: oh brother user: we’ll be here for a long time 😓 user: it’s his first day on earth be patient

“baby!” he shouted to you in the other room, walking off camera. you appeared, raising a brow, then giggling when you saw his pants. “my belt,” rafe murmured, angling his lower half towards you.

you fixed the belt, explaining the trick to him again. “don’t panic if you forget again, i’m here to help,” you peered up at him as he pecked your forehead as a thanks.

“what would i do without you?” rafe walked backwards while saying it, moving back towards his monitor. you shrugged, mock pouting. “have falling down pants?” you responded, moving away from the room.

rafe was still sporting a smile when he faced the camera. “okay, got it. i’ll pick out my jewelry next.” he sat in the chair, bringing his jewelry dish closer. then he smiled, picking it up. “she got this for me when she noticed i would just throw my rings anywhere.”

user: wait what’s the name!! user: oh so thoughtful people exist

rafe frowned at the dish, turning it sideways. “i’m not sure what it’s called. y’all mind if i gatekeep? thanks.” he pulled a couple of rings, putting them on, then read a few donations.

user donated 10 subs user donated 15 bits: love the vids pal keep it up user donated $3: here you go, show her to the camera? 🫶

“not showing her, how does being permanently banned sound?” rafe knew his mods would send a warning to whoever asked the question. and his chat asked it frequently ever since his irl stream with you.

user: stop asking that, it’s so annoying user: show the trinkets!!

“the trinkets? okay.” rafe set the dish aside, tilting his mic away from him to reach the new figures he got on his desk. he showed one to the camera, “this is hers, i took it because it looks cool on my desk. don’t tell her.”

user: buddy said don’t tell her like we have the option

he grabbed another, “i think i found this in some random store, it looked interesting so i got it.” he sat it down, pulling his mic forward and running a hand over his head, reading the chat.

user: what fragrances do you use?? user: how do you maintain the buzz i’m thinking of cutting mine user: where are the rings from

“i’ll show you my options in a second. she usually trims my cut, but i just trim it when i notice it getting too long. .” he glanced at his rings. “this one is from a flea, this is from a small business, and this one. . i don’t know. i’ll try to link them.”

he glanced up to see the chat going crazy.

user: what was that user: is that her? user: um we can see someone user: yayy!! reveal

rafe quickly panned his camera closer to him and away from the photo frame behind him that was showing your reflection. he glanced to you, chucking when he saw your startled face. “oh, crap, sorry! i just wanted to show you the shop where you got that ring so you can tell them.”

rafe gestured for you to come closer, glancing to make sure his camera wouldn’t catch too much of you. you did, standing next to his chair and glancing at the screen, only your lower half showing.

user: close enough user: where are those bottoms from?? i love! user: be good guys then he’ll show her upper half

you giggled, looking to rafe who was staring up at you, hands running over your legs. “you can tell them.” it would be your first time talking to his chat, but rafe loved it.

“they’re thrifted, i’m sorry! but i can find something similar and give the link to rafe so he can show you.”

user: www user: she’s so sweet user: thanks so much!!

rafe fiddled with your fingers as he read the chat. “scary games?tomorrow, i’m chilling today. . who just said i just developed a hand fetish?” he pulled a blank face at the camera.

you covered your mouth to let out a little laugh. rafe tried to hold back his own laughter. “time out for you buddy, figure that out.” he directed one of his mods to set the user out of the chat for a few minutes.

rafe turned back to you, “you said you had the name of the shop?” you nodded, showing him your phone. rafe read aloud the name for the viewers, then slowly smirked, muting his mic.

“how’d you know someone asked about my rings? are you watching the stream?” he fully smiled at your embarrassed expression.

“well yeah, i watch sometimes. .” you meekly shrugged. rafe poked at your belly, causing you to swat at his hands. “yeah? you heard me talking all about you?”

user: oh he’s muted user: do not get freaky on live

“m hm. . your chat is really nice.” rafe pulled your hands towards him, bringing them up to rest on his shoulders. “they’re alright. .” rafe was once again too busy staring at you to notice his chat.

but you didn’t want to keep him. “okay, that’s all i wanted. you can keep talking to them, they miss you.” you took a step back. rafe pulled a face, unmuting his mic so they could hear. “i’ll end this stream right now.”

user: ??

[lacobus]

nsfw : putting on a show

tags: afab/fem reader, cam girl! reader, rough sex, maybe ooc mark + more beneath the cut!

camgirl reader & mark who's soooo eager to join her in a stream. he's so big and he looks so disgustingly sexy in nothing but his boxers and a mask that covers just his eyes, for his privacy you know.

but, everything is on display. his muscles, the grooves and dips in his skin. the way his lips always curl into a smug smirk when he's sitting with you in front of your setup. the touchy hands that grab handfuls of your thighs and breasts.

the ego rush of being the only one who gets to know how hot and wet you get around his dick has him freaked up. it makes his vision swim and him selfish.

mark's got your legs spread for the camera, so people can see his fat head slip through your cunt and the way you squeel because he slaps the tip on your clit just to make you squirm.

you don't really get to use toys, in fact, you feel as if you've become the toy. you get used and manhandled as mark sees fit. for the stream you invite him on, you're just his living fleshlight.

the prettiest hole he can fuck. glistening with spit and cum, always mindlessly mumbling and whining because he's so deep you can feel him in your stomach. does the thing guys do in porn, forcibly grabs your hand and puts it on your own abdomen. the bump of his cock makes you feel dizzy, its like he's trying to split you in half with how deep and how hard he pistons his hips.

i think mark has honestly just been waiting for this. like the moment he finds out you do streams, he's over the moon when you ask him if he'd like to join you. its not being possessive, it's being territorial. he wants everyone to know that he fucks you good. that its not just a show anymore when his hips are mercilessly knocking into your ass.

mark even holds your face up for the camera. letting it capture every moan, whimper and blissed out expression.

"c'mon, show 'em how good you feel," he whispers in your ear, voice husky and dripping with pleasure. "let your fans see how good i fuck you, yeah?"

and mark doesn't even need to stop, immensely gifted with stamina and endurance. superhero perks, you know? he can go until you're just a writhing heap in his arms, pumping load after load into you and watching it spill out when his dick slips out.

"you're my cocksleeve sweetheart," he moans, covering your neck with open mouthed kisses. "you're supposed to keep this inside."

and he fluidly gathers the mix of spit and cum with his fingers and shallowly pushes it back inside. he doesn't need to be precise because he'll just fuck it back in anyway.

your viewers get jealous, some of you and some of mark. regardless, they pay handsomely to see you be overstimulated and put through the mattress like its nothing. they think mark is some kind of monster, but really, he's the very same guy who wants his hair played with before you sleep.

mark is your boyfriend. sculpted by the gods and a ridiculous sexual fiend when he wants to be. he loves you to pieces, but he'll be damned if he won't fuck you within an inch of your life.

[velaenam]

𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠..𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

                                                                         ◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc/mc. caleb crashed into lake michigan! in chicago! in front of you! how are you supposed to handle an intergalactic space colonel with abs, manners, and absolutely no clue what walmart is? 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 –  reverse isekai (caleb comes to earth),romance,fluff,comedy, angst, nsfw topics/language, tba 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 1 of — reblogs comments & likes are appreciated. lmk if u want to be tagged.

the humming of the farspace fleets deep tunnel grew louder inside his helmet. it was a low, almost soothing vibration that caleb had grown far too familiar with. another day, another shoddy mission. 

“tunnel stability at 98 percent” his earpiece whispers a calm and steady hum in his ear. 

calebs gloved fingers hovered above the holographic controls, eyes narrowed, every movement precise. the swirling lights of the tunnel outside the viewport pulsed in soft gradients of blue and violet like a spiraling galaxy. 

red.

a sudden spike flash across the console.

“warning: tunnel destabilization detected. energy surge inbound.”

calebs brow’s furrow, darting around commands into the console ai. as he does the tunnel outside began to shudder, colors fracturing into unnatural streaks. 

white lights crept into the edges of his visions like porcelain cracks. caleb’s breathing slowed, focused, “initiate emergency shu-”

a deafening pulse of energy surged through the cockpit, shaking the entire vessel. the white light consumed him. his system cracking into static. 

his lips find their way to his apple necklace.

silence.

it was supposed to be a normal afternoon. 

you’d brought your favorite lemonade, found your usual quiet spot by the lake, and pulled out your phone, ready to scroll through tiktok until your brain officially clocked out. the sun was warm, the breeze was gentle, this was nice. this was good. 

peaceful. chill.

honestly? you were thriving.

that is.. till something weird happened.

at first, it was just a strange hum. low but barely noticeable. you glanced around. Nobody seemed to notice. not that there were many people around. you were in a more secluded area of the lake.

the water in front of you rippled. your eyes snap towards the water observing it, already standing up to run.

and then- he appeared.

he just… emerged. like ariel on that rock. or whatever. oh, oh, like moto moto!

one second: empty lake. The next: a sexy man standing waist deep in the water as if reality had just uploaded him directly into lake michigan. 

you froze, blinking, your brain fully short circuiting.

the man was tall. broad. dressed in a military uniform that looked a bit too good on him, his eyes purple like amethyst.. soaked brown hair. his breathing was steady and controlled. he slowly lifted his head, scanning the area like a soldier assessing in a battlefield. and then his eyes landed on you.

you held your lemonade like it was a crucifix. the man tilted his head slightly, as if confused and curious. 

you did the only logical thing any person would do when confronted by a strange man materializing out of thin fucking air in broad daylight.

you whispered, “what the fuck?!”

(commercial break)

he took a slow step toward the shore, water streaming down the armored plates of his suit. you couldn’t move. your feet felt like they fused with the ground. 

you blink. this was not normal. this was odd and weird. you had eyeshot of the lake in front of you and you didn’t see a man walk within your peripherals in the past 15 minutes.

as you think, you fail to notice that he stood a few feet from you. his eyes scanned everything. the skyline. the parked cars. passing birds, you. his gaze was sharp and analytical, but you couldn’t help but catch the flicker of unease. 

for a moment neither of you spoke. then his voice, calm and low, “this isn’t… skyhaven..” 

you stared, “.... i don’t know what that is…” 

he inhaled a deep sigh, his jaw clenching slightly. his  eyes darted up to the sky, scanning. then around again. His hand reached up, unfastening something at his neck. he pulls off the jacket bearing unfamiliar insignia.  

he followed by tugging off his cap, running a hand through his damp hair. without the uniform he almost looked like any other ridiculously good looking chicago tourist who happened to have just crawled out of the lake in his dress blues?

 almost.

his eyes settled back on you. “you’re local,” he stated. not a question.

“y-yeah,” you said, still clutching your drink like a nervous squirrel, “uh. chicago.”

another pause. you watched as he took a small, subtle breath, adjusting his posture, as though trying to blend in. his military ‘tude slipped into something softer, calculated, but oddly polite.

“i need to speak with you. somewhere less exposed.”

you hesitated, your brain running full speed through every true crime documentary you’d ever watched. but there was something about him that didn’t scream danger. he seemed… lost. out of place.

and possibly extremely confused.

…..BUT MAYBE THIS IS WHAT HE WOULD WANT YOU TO THINK

"...you don’t have any weapons on you, do you?"

his brow twitched slightly, almost like a tiny flash of amusement. “no. not at the moment.”

"...okay." against every ounce of common sense, you sighed. “come on. my car’s over there.” oh, what would your parents think?

he followed without hesitation, keeping pace exactly one step behind you. polite, controlled, but clearly still assessing everything like this entire planet was a potential threat.

you unlocked your car, climbed into the driver’s seat, and tried very hard not to hyperventilate as he sat himself into the passenger side, closing the door.

a beat of silence filled the cabin.

you finally turned to him and blurted out, “okay. who — or what — are you?”

the silence hung for a long, awkward beat.

you stared at him, your brain still trying to process any of this, as your fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard your knuckles went pale. he sat there like this was a perfectly normal tuesday.

finally, he spoke.

“my name is caleb xia. colonel. farspace fleet .this is not my world.”

you blinked.your mouth opened slightly, but all that came out was a soft, strangled noise. “...what.”

“i was traveling through a deep tunnel corridor,” he continued, his voice low, calm, like he was giving a report. “there was a malfunction. anomalous coordinates. i lost control of the vessel’s trajectory and…” his eyes scanned the unfamiliar cityscape out your windshield again. “i arrived here.”

you stared at him.

and then you laughed..

“i’m sorry — what?” you sputtered. “you expect me to believe you're from... space? like, intergalactic, star wars? not, like, russia or something?”

his brow twitched ever so slightly at your comparison. “star wars..? no. no.”

“oh my god, you’re serious.” you clapped a hand over your mouth. “okay. so you’re from skyhaven? which isn’t on google maps, by the way. a colonel?”

“correct.”

you gave him your absolute most deadpan, wide-eyed stare. “are you having a psychotic break?”

if caleb was offended, he didn’t show it. In fact, you thought you saw something flicker across his expression — patience. like he’d expected this. like he’d already calculated your reaction before you even had it.

without a word, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.

you immediately stiffened. “hey, whoa—”

“i’m not armed,” he assured smoothly, pulling out a small, sleek object — no bigger than a deck of cards. the surface shimmered with a faint blue light, metallic but almost liquid in how it reflected. there were no buttons. no seams. the edges curved unnaturally smooth. it definitely didn’t look like anything sold at best buy.

he tapped it once, and the surface came alive . a floating projection emerged, rotating gently in midair like a miniature hologram. complex glyphs and symbols you couldn’t even begin to read spun around a glowing image of what looked like... a planet? a star system?

“this is a navigational core module,” he said quietly. “it tracks dimensional coordinates for deep tunnel travel.” his eyes lifted to meet yours. soft but firm. “your world isn’t on any of our charts.”

your jaw dropped open.

you looked at the hologram. then at him. then back at the floating image, which was still calmly rotating in front of your very real, very human face.

your brain screamed: THAT’S NOT AN IPAD.

“holy shit,” you whispered.

you kept staring at the floating projection like your brain was buffering. if this was a prank, it was a really good one. but nothing about him screamed prank. everything screamed calm, extremely dangerous man who accidentally landed in chicago from a freaking alternate universe, and #needthat.

your voice came out small. “...is that real?”

caleb calmly deactivated the device with a brush of his fingertips — it folded back into itself like liquid metal and slipped neatly into his jacket again.

“i anticipated you’d require additional verification.”

he pulled something else out of his suit. a sleek, block. his phone.

he tapped the screen. the interface lit up in a design you couldn’t even recognize — elegant, minimalistic, even though it was a normal looking phone.

he handed it to you.

you hesitated but took it carefully, half expecting it to electrocute you. the screen pulsed slightly as if reading your touch, but otherwise, it let you scroll. there were apps you didn’t recognize.  

no google. no instagram. no facebook. no tiktok.

your eyebrows furrowed as you flicked through what appeared to be his photo library.

and that’s when you saw it.

a picture of him standing beside a girl — smiling, standing on what looked like a floating platform overlooking a glowing futuristic skyline. the city was breathtaking: glittering towers spiraled into the clouds, neon highways coiled between buildings, flying vehicles zipping silently through the air.

you blinked at the girl beside him. she was pretty, soft-featured, and looked very familiar.

“...is this your girlfriend?” you asked, feeling a weird stab in your chest for absolutely no reason.

caleb glanced at the photo. his expression softened for the first time. “its… complicated.” “oh.” you blinked again, glancing down at the skyline. “is this skyhaven?”

he nodded.  your jaw dropped as you scrolled through more photos — linkon’s towering buildings, vast technological hubs, alien landscapes, even images of creatures you didn’t recognize , all shimmering under unfamiliar constellations.

“this looks like a star wars movie,” you whispered. “only it’s… real.”

star …wars? “it is,” caleb said softly, watching you with quiet amusement as your eyes grew wide with every swipe. “everything you know here would be considered… primitive. in comparison.”

you gave him a scandalized look. “wow. thanks. way to make a girl feel special.”

for the briefest second, you thought you saw something that almost resembled a small smirk twitch at the corner of his lips.

.

you sat there for a few seconds, staring at his face — at the phone still in your hands, at his perfectly calm expression, at the absurdity of what your life had just become in the span of fifteen minutes.

“okay….” you finally breathed. “you… you’re real. you’re actually real.”

“i told you i was.” His tone was matter-of-fact.

you stared at him again. “you literally just glitched into my lake.” he blinked. “yes.”

you groaned softly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “okay. you can’t just… sit in my car forever. we can’t sit here. i guess….you can come back to my place while we figure this out.”

he didn’t even hesitate. “hmm.. acceptable.”

you started the car and pulled onto the road, mentally drafting a list of increasingly bad decisions you were making today. bringing a strange man to your apartment? who may or may not be from another dimension? yeah. real smart. 

it wasn’t until you pulled into your parking spot and glanced at him again that your brain hit another very important wall.

oh no.

you had no men's clothing.

you stared at his still-damp suit. he looked like a psyop..!! there was no way you could let him just walk around like that. it screamed cia experiment or cosplay gone way too far.

“okay so…” you said, teeth gritted. “tinyyy problem. you can’t wear that.”

caleb looked down at himself, mildly analyzing the gear. “why not?”

“you’re gonna draw attention. and by attention, i mean you’ll be trending on twitter within thirty minutes. we need to get you into something… normal.”

he nodded, calmly accepting the foreign terms. “then where do we acquire appropriate attire?”

you sighed. “ walmart.”

his brow quirked slightly. “....is that a supplier?” …..well… “sure.” you waved your hand mumbling under your breath, “let’s go with that….”

you drove in silence for a while. stealing glances at caleb sitting perfectly composed in your passenger seat. like being abducted by a complete stranger was totally normal.

meanwhile, your brain was NOT composed. ‘alternate dimension.. far…space…fleet? colonel? another universe? and i have to deal with this at a WALMART?’

“...you sure you’re okay?” you finally ask. “i’m fine.” he answers calmly, his hands resting neatly on his lap, posture completely upright as if he was on a mission. 

“functioning.. gotcha..”  you pulled into the walmart parking lot and immediately regretted every life choice you had made up to this point. it was packed. absolutely packed. cars were crammed into every possible corner. people with their carts wandering around to their cars. horns honking. yelling.

if that wasn’t the cherry on top, a man on the corner twirling his sale sign is now fighting a.. pigeon?  caleb observed it all with the same calm expression he’d worn since appearing in your life. “this is… an important area?” he asked, and you didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or annoyed at how cramped walmart always seemed to be. “apparently.” you mumbled.

the sign man swats at the pigeon, and spins a perfect 360 while the pigeon flaps at him, and you’re confused. caleb tilts his head slightly, genuinely curious, “is this like a… ritual?” you shake your head at him and for what felt like eternity, you finally spot a parking space. 

you weave the endless crowds and cars like a pro.

caleb stayed close behind you, silent and hyper-alert. his eyes constantly scanning his surroundings. you could feel stares at him as you weave through people. stares that state, “holy shit he’s tall..” and “oh i’d like to climb him like a jungle gym.” 

the automatic doors whoosh open and..

boom (no not like-)

the walmart hit him all at once.

bright fluorescent lights. loud overhead announcements. giant colorful banners screaming ‘SALE!!’ endless rows of overstocked shelves. the smell of popcorn and something you’d rather not know.

caleb subtly stiffened. his pupils contracted slightly as he looked around, processing the overwhelmingness that is walmart. “this is…” he starts in a low voice, unsure how to proceed. “welcome to america.” you whisper to him.

as you continue deeper towards the store you huff, 

“okay, let’s just get you some clothes before you accidentally get drafted into the army or something..” you said quickly, tugging him gently toward the men’s section. as you steer him through the aisle full of cargo shorts and graphic tees, caleb’s brow furrow at the embarrassing phrases on them.

“is this… what you guys wear..?” he asks, eyeing the rack of t-shirts that read: “ beer bacon and FREEDOM!! ”  you exhale through your nose, “i really hope not.”

as you pull a few t-shirts off the rack, sticking to compliment him instead of making him stick out even more. as you do, you couldn’t hold your curiosity.

“okay can i ask something?”  caleb, standing behind you, turns his head slightly, “what is it?”

“your name… caleb.. that’s like… just your name?” you gestured vaguely, “you’re from like… super earth, and your name is caleb?” 

a small smile touches the corner of his lips, barely. “is there something wrong with my name?” 

you flushed at his question, “no! i just thought it’d be… i don’t know– something more futuristic…?”  as you say that you’re reminded that star wars has a protagonist named luke skywalker. things suddenly seem less befuddled. 

he watched you for a moment longer, amusement behind his eyes, “we have normal names. not everything about my world is different.” you huff, “sure.. except for the part where you’re from another dimension.”

you couldn’t help it. your brain was still whirring. hologram. his iphone 90 or something. the photos. but people did craz things with ai these days. maybe you’re getting scammed right now. or maybe.. you swallowed… he was in a cult…

your mind spiraled: oh my god what if he’s part of a cult and i’m being fucking recruited right now. hot guys from the ‘future’? i’m getting cult-fished… fuck

“okay.. okay.” you blurt before you could stop yourself, “are you in a cult?” calebs eyes shoot towards you, caught off guard, “a.. cult?” he repeats you, and you nod, “like.. weird secret group.. brain wash…you know?” 

his lips press together briefly before he shakes his head softly, “no.” his voice was steady, quiet, and firm. “i am not part of a cult. i’m a colonel of a fleet.” 

there was something in his tone that made your stomach tighten. something fiercely protective under all that calm. you stare at him, trying to poke holes, “ok but all the photos and stuff.. it could be ai..you can barely tell these days!” you half whisper half shout. caleb holds your gaze, steady and unflinching, “that’s true..” he wasn’t offended, “you have no reason to trust me..”

his honestly actually threw you off more than if he had tried to defend himself.

you pull your phone out, quickly typing his full name into google. caleb watches as you quietly scroll through pages of… nothing. no profiles. mentions. linkedin. instagram. facebooks. no news articles. 

you glanced up at him, your heartbeat picking up, “you don’t exist…” – “i do.” he replies softly, “just not here.” 

you open your mouth but no words come out. his voice drops, more gentler now, as if he could sense your overwhelm. “i know it’s impossible. i know how hard this is right now.” he murmurs, eyes locking into yours, “but i’m here. and i am real.” you stare at him, throat dry, 

“god…” you mumble.

.

thankfully after a couple minutes of scanning racks and checking random aisles out, caleb gravitated toward something that actually worked. a dark jacket, fitted white tshirt underneath, dark jeans, and sneakers. honestly? he was giving model vibes. 

you blinked, half impressed, half still spiraling, “how did.. you pick this out so fast..?” 

caleb glanced down at himself, adjusting the jacket slightly, as if evaluating the fit. “something i’d wear back home..” he glanced around briefly before looking back at you, a small grin appearing on his face, “...blending in increases safety.”

you gave him a flat look. “you just analyzed a walmart fit like a military op.”

he offered you one of those tiny composed smiles again, “i’ve got a couple years under my belt.” 

after that you take him to a couple of rows away, “we’re gonna get you pajamas.” caleb’s eyes dart at said pajamas, “i sleep shirtless.” he says calmly and you freeze. you snap out of it and sigh as you mentally prepare to be in walmart for another 30 minutes.

you made it a mission to fill the basket: grey sweatpants, PLAIN tshirts, socks, underwear (you did NOT make eye contact during that aisle) and a basic hoodie. 

‘hes gonna look so fuckin’ fine’

you’re not saying that out loud though. you have some self preservation instincts!

then it hits you.

he has no place to go. no hotel. no wallet. no earth money. hes not even in the solar system. 

you freeze with a loofah in your hand, staring at him in sudden horror, “oh. my god.” you whisper, “you have to stay with me.” why aren’t your survival skills working? 

he looks at you and nods, “yeah.” – “that wasn’t a question!” – “i assumed as much” he drops the toothbrushes into the cart, “you’re a stable option.” he informs, “oh great-” you mutter, “-i’m a stable option.” 

“would you rather i sleep outside?” caleb steps closer, “no.” you mumble, suddenly overwhelmed by the thought of him shirtless on your tiny couch, “god no.. just..” your lips twitch, “can you stop being so calm about this? you crash landed in lake michigan.” 

“- and now i’m getting socks. it’s called adapting.” you process his reply and you just roll your eyes, throwing the loofah into the cart. 

. 

the drive home is quiet. your brain is still playing catch up, trying to process the fact that there is a possibly extra dimensional man sitting in your  passenger seat, calmly holding a walmart bag filled with irish spring and old spice. 

when you pull into your garage, the overhead flickers a hum, casting a warm glow over the empty space. as you let out a sigh, you reach for the door handle,

“stop. i’ll get it.” caleb says. your eyes flicker at him and before you can argue, he’s already out, moving around the front of the car. you blink as he opens your door for you, then effortlessly grabs every single bag from the back like it’s nothing. 

“seriously-” you say, shutting your odor, “you’re gonna pull your arm out of socket! let me carry something.” caleb looks at you, unfazed, “you’ve already done enough. i can handle this.” 

that shouldn’t make you feel something.. but it does…

maybe it’s the calm confidence in his tone, or the way the bags crinkle against his hoodie as he turns to the house.. like this was a normal outing– a chore. maybe because he didn’t say it in a smug way a guy might do. 

either way, you catch yourself staring. blushing.  oh god.

you look away quickly and fish your keys out of your purse, “okay well.. thank you! come in..” you whisper in reverence.

he waits patiently behind you as you unlock the side door and lead him into the kitchen. the bags crinkle softly as he sets them on the counter. your tiny kitchen suddenly feels smaller. warmer. like his presence is filling every inch of the space. 

you clear your throat, “i uh..i’ll show you the guest room. it’s a glorified storage room right now but-” “it’s fine.” he says smoothly, eyes scanning the room like he’s still mentally mapping it for exits. “you’ve extended more hospitality than most would.” 

you swallow, “yeah well.. I’m not most..”

his gaze lands on you then, unwavering, “i know.”

you immediately look away again and give him a quiet little house tour.

the living room first. cozy, and a bit small, but its warm with soft throw blankets, fresh flowers on the table, and somewhere you’d like to be at during christmas time. caleb’s eyes linger on that a moment longer than necessary. 

then a hallway, “this is the bathroom,” you say, pointing, “and then this is the… guest room, but that’s a generous title.” 

you nudge the door open, revealing a space that looks like it belongs in a pinterest board. theres a twin bed with an oversized blanket, a small dresser, some spare boxes stacked in the corner, and your extra vacuum leaning against the wall like an elephant in the room.

“it’s tidy.” caleb says simply as he steps in. he runs his hand gently across the edge of the dresser, “you keep things clean.” your eyes flicker up to his face. he doesn’t say it in a judging way– more like appreciates it. or finds comfort in it..

“uh yeah..” you say softly, rubbing your arm, “i like it that way..i don’t do well with messes..”

“i can tell,” he chuckles dryly, “it feels safe in here.” you freeze for half a second. safe. why did that make your stomach do a full somersault?

“anyway-” you clear your throat and gently shove the walmart bag at him, “here’s your stuff. feel free to shower first. i’ll put the rest away..” he nods quietly and composed, then walks toward the bathroom like he already memorized the floor plan. 

a few minutes later, you’re folding his new hoodie and tshirt over the dresser when you hear the faint clunk of the bathroom door swinging open. you turn around instinctively– and you freeze.

he’s in a hot towel– sorry- hes in a normal towel. hes hot. right.

a singular, low slung towel wrapped around his hips, droplets of water still slinging into his collarbone, trailing down his chest. you don’t even know how someone can look that sculpted and casual at the same time. your jaw drops so fast it almost dislocates. caleb blinks, toothbrush in hand, a hand towel in the other, his hair slightly wet and pushed back, “you said to grab my clothes, didn’t you?” 

you forget how to speak. your brain just starts shouting words like shoulders, abs, did i vacuum under the bed? boom shakalaka yes godddd.

“i-uh — yeah.” you finally stammer, holding out his folded clothes like a peace offering, “yes– here– clothes. wear these.” he walks over, very calmly, unfazed, and takes the clothes from you. his fingers graze yours. your soul leaves your body. 

“thank you,” he says, low and warm, then turns to go back into the bathroom. you don’t move for a full minute and just stare at the closed door as you marinate in your thoughts. ‘hes gorgeous. but hes a stranger. hes a man…. a tall, strong, man. he hasn’t hurt you..YET..OR–OR maybe hes a good man!’ you feel delusion settling in as you anticipate your turn in the shower.

.

you shoulder after him, shutting the door a little too quickly behind you, still mentally reeling from the towel moment. no thoughts, just abs and a freshly shaven happy trail. you try to focus. your favorite shampoo. face wash. don’t slip and die in the tub because an interdimensional colonel made eye contact with your entire nervous system now.

when you emerge, fresh faced and dressed in your coziest FLATTERING pajama set, the scene of clean cotton and a little anxiety clinging to you, you find caleb already sitting at the tiny kitchen table. He’s wearing the black hoodie you got him, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, and he’s quietly examining a salt shaker like some artifact. you’re a little breathless from how normal he makes it look. 

“dinner is gonna be easy today..” you say, moving past him and into the kitchen, “pasta and garlic bread with um…brownies for dessert.”  he tilts his head, “brownies? what kind?” your eyes slightly light up, “hm.. just normal ones.. any requests?” you say, kinda but not really surprised that he knew about brownies. 

you make quick work of the food. boiling, cooking the protein, heating the sauce, and trying not to burn the garlic bread. caleb watches, like it’s a science experiment. you offer him the job of grating the cheese to distract him, and he takes it seriously. 

dinner is eaten quietly, but not uncomfortably so. you’re sipping water when you finally muster the courage to say, “i was gonna watch something after to wind down. you can join if you want.” 

“i’d like to.” he says, wiping his hands neatly.

you both end up in the couch— him sitting at the very end, and you curl up at the other corner. you pick something light. funny. Something you’ve been half watching in the background lately. “it’s called never have i ever.” you mumble, “teen drama. really girl/woman centered.” caleb gives you a nod, “okay.”

the first five minutes are unbearable. you’re overthinking everything. is caleb bored? is he judging the terrible voiceover by john mcenroe? greatest tennis player ever? oh god, theres a make out scene, already? 

but then he chuckles. very faintly, and you blink at him, “did you just …laugh?” caleb shrugs casually, “i like devi. she’s intense.” you stare at him for a minute before you start to laugh as well, “alright- that’s fair.”

by episode two, the space between you two has closed slightly. you aren’t too sure when it happened. maybe when you passed him a brownie. maybe when you both made the same noise at the love triangle. 

.

it’s nearing midnight when you finally glance at the clock and groan. you stretch where you sat and mumble, rubbing your eyes, “i have to sleep.. I have to check in at the boutique tomorrow..” a part of you feels disappointed, but the other half feels giddy.

caleb nods from the other end, then his eyes make their way towards you, “alright.” you stand and start collecting dishes and brownie crumbs, trying not to think too hard about how normal this feels. like his presence didn’t turn your life inside out in the last ten hours. “I’ll be gone for maybe a couple hours..” you say, stacking plates in the sink. “you could…um.. reorient yourself? chill. stay inside. maybe … don’t get arrested?”

he raises a brow, “why would i get arrested?” 

you gesture vaguely, “i.. don’t know..” which earns you the tiniest smirk from him, “i’ll.. keep a low profile.” you nod, mostly to yourself, as you back down the hallway toward your bedroom. 

you pause at your door, hand on the knob, very suddenly aware that this is your last line of defense between you and the very calm, very lethal, possibly single man in your living room. you squint at him suspiciously, “i swear if you kill me in my sleep..” 

his eyes meet yours without hesitation.

“make it quick..” you finish, deadpan, “i’ve seen too many true crime stories..” 

caleb blinks slowly, amused, “i’ll keep that in mind..”  

you couldn’t help but smile a little

“goodnight space colonel.” 

“goodnight.” he mumbles your name softly. 

                                                                         next chapter

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ! - @miffysoo, @rcvcgers, @udejoenrlddo, @calebsmorena, @carmendanny2, @alayaaaahhhhhh, @asilaydead, @ellexamor, @inzayneforaj, @unstablemiss, @romils, @animegamerfox, @floatinginaer, @sleepisfortheweakpooh, @girlwith-kalei-do-scope-eyes, @nm4565natty, @mentaltrouble2201, @solarlovesxyz, @awwhks, @cinnamonpinktea, @taenosaurrr, @twistedtastefulme, @blessdunrest

[vettelsvee]

FIRST TAKE, SECOND GLANCE | Charles Leclerc

PART OF ONCE UPON A WISH SERIES ˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ 2K FOLLOWERS EVENT ✧ F1 ROYAL AU

⋆ PAIRING: Prince!Charles Leclerc x Driver!Reader ⋆ SUMMARY: Since you and Charles have been force to fake a relationship and a future marriage in front of the cameras, you have to fake the best you can. When that's not possible, and all you end up doing is failing, Charles decides to set sort of a date to get to know you better... and have some practice ⋆ WARNINGS: Curse words ⋆ WORD COUNT: 2286 ⋆ VEE'S NOTES: Second fic of the 2k event! Hope you like it and, if so, reblogs and comments are truly appreciated! Thank you so much for reading <3 ↳ LET'S TALK/REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

You didn’t know if the conservatory, despite being far too well hidden in the east wing of the royal palace, was really the best place to try and have what Charles considered a “rehearsal date.”

You crossed your arms and cursed your PR stuff under your breath with every insult possible. Who in their right mind thought it was a good idea for the crown prince of Caelondrose and a Formula 1 driver to not only fake a relationship, but also a future marriage, and stream it to the rest of the kingdoms in Euphion?

Of course, with the luck you had, it had to be you going through this shit.

“This is romantic… right?”

You looked up from the red velvet armchair he was sitting in and met his eyes.

The moment you saw his face, that showed more confusion than confidence, you laughed.

“It’s a damn garden shed, Leclerc,” you replied, crossing your legs.

“It’s a conservatory,” he corrected you. “It’s not the same. If it were a garden shed…”

As he began explaining the differences between the two, you stopped listening. That was the least of your concerns at the moment. Instead, your gaze wandered over the plants that, as you’d heard from the palace staff, had been planted and raised by the queen herself.

“Yeah, whatever you say. One is for plants, and the other is for people trapped into faking a relationship with each other,” you snapped once he finished his impromptu speech.

“You’re not trapped. You’re just contractually obligated to be with me,” Charles said sharply.

“Yeah, that. How comforting. Thanks.”

“Do you really think it comforts me? Because, contrary to what you might believe, not at all.”

You chose to ignore Charles because you knew where this could lead to a fight, like most of the ones that had happened in just the three weeks since this little charade for the sake of your reputations had started. 

Silence fell between you both, so you took the opportunity to look at your boyfriend from head to toe. 

That day he didn’t seem to decide to wear that ridiculous jacket full of buttons and medals. Instead, it was just a white shirt with the top buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a pair of black trousers.

You scoffed.

What pissed you off most about him was that he was pretty attractive,and the only thing you were aspiring to with him was starring in some kind of reality show where not only the kingdom but the whole world could watch how much you loved each other and what a perfect future queen you would make.

You, a future queen… Not even in your dreams.

“Does our PR teams really believe this is going to work? A date in a garden shed?”

“First of all, it’s a conservatory, not a garden shed,” Charles replied, sitting up straighter. “Second: yes, of course it’s going to work because we have to make it work. This is our eighth date, and by now we’re supposed to know how to show to the world that we have chemistry.”

“Bullshit. Do we even have chemistry?” you asked sarcastically.

“Not exactly that, but I think we have something.”

“From my side, it’s disgust and anger at this whole damn show, but I don’t know what your take is.”

“If I’m honest, I just feel tension.”

Now Charles was staring directly at you. Your cheeks burned, and you didn’t even know why.

You shook your head, unable to believe the situation you, your parties, and your dazzling personality had landed yourselves in.

“I can’t believe I’m here pretending to be in a relationship and a future marriage with the prince of Caelondrose… And even worse: that we’re doing it for the show. If I’d wanted to be an actress, I would’ve gone to drama school, not karting when I was five,” you snapped. “And I can’t even talk about Formula 1 with you…”

“I watch Formula 1, you know?” he shot back. “If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have gone to the party where we got drunk and fucked and, therefore, we wouldn’t be here now.”

The smirk he gave you was infuriating. If he weren’t a prince and you weren’t in this situation, you’d have already sued him for defamation and slapped him with a restraining order just to keep him away.

“You’re an asshole,” you spat, though deep down, you knew he had a point.

“And yet you still agreed to this.”

You hated what he made you feel. You were smiling now. He noticed and counted it as a small victory, which made him smile timidly.

“So, His Royal Highness Prince Charles Leclerc of Caelondrose, why did you decide on the greenhouse for our eighth fake date?”

Charles shrugged and, for the first time in all this time, he seemed to look vulnerable.

You couldn’t help but feel a little, just a little, sorry for him.

“There are no cameras here. I thought it might help us practice without pressure, you know…”

“Practice exactly ehat, Leclerc?”

Your question seemed to make him even more nervous. He swallowed hard, clearly trying to find the right words so you wouldn’t bolt.

“The way we talk to each other, and with each other… How we touch... Overall, acting like we really care about each other...”

“Do you care?” you asked, uncertain.

“If I’m being honest, I’m trying my best to.”

You didn’t know how to answer to that. 

Deep down, although it was hard for you to admit it, you felt the same way as him.

“I thought we could try something,” Charles said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, now a bit closer to you.

“Like what?”

“Imagine that this is real,” he gestured between you. “Just for 60 seconds pretend that you actually want to be here with me.”

“Is this a game you just came up with, or did PR tell you to do this?” you raised an eyebrow.

“It was my idea,” he admitted. “And more than calling it a game, I’d rather call it a rehearsal.”

Of course. You huffed.

“Fine, whatever you say.”

You sat up straighter as you noticed Charles dragging his chair closer, until he was right in front of you, your legs touching.

You leaned in a bit more, opening your legs so that his, still closed, ended up between yours. You extended your hand, offering him a smile like the ones you were already more than used to faking for the press.

“Hi.”

Charles blinked, clearly caught off guard by your sudden shift in attitude and more importantly, your commitment to his rehearsal.

“How was your day, love?” you asked in the sweetest voice you could use, lowering your tone and adding a playful touch.

“Productive, though a little exhausting, to be honest,” he replied, far more gently than usual. “I had a meeting about the new forest protection policy that King Sebastian of Grendwalt proposed for all of the kingdoms Euphion. You know how he is. Then, I had to smile at elderly ladies for two hours straight at the grand opening of the aquagym pool.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that last part, and your laughter made him chuckle, too.

“And what about yours?”

“I woke up at five in the morning. Gym. Simulator. Team meeting. Argument with my race engineer about strategy for the next race. Oh, and Carlos asked why I hadn’t told him we’d been dating for so long and then, suddenly announced our engagement alongside an streaming reality show.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That I had no idea why he ever thought he could date me when I was already completely in love with you.”

Charles let out a laugh, and you mimicked him.

“So… the usual, huh?”

“Of course, love,” you repeated, making him shiver.

“Do you always talk this much on real dates?”

“And you? Are you always this cautious with the girls you go out with? Or are they all PR too?” you countered, trying to see where he was taking the conversation.

“You talk like you haven’t been on a real date in years.”

Charles said this with a growing smile, playing along. He took your hands in his, and it wasn’t the touch that surprised you, it was how familiar it felt.

Don’t get your hopes up. It’s just PR.

“My life is solely and entirely dedicated to driving,” you replied. “Why am I supposed to waste time going on dates with guys who only see me as someone to occasionally fuck with?”

“Maybe it’d be worth it if you gave that time to the right person.”

You didn’t answer. Neither did he.

You leaned in a little more, still seated, and your foreheads touched just as he began tracing shapes on your hands with his fingers.

You looked at him without fear, and Charles didn’t look away.

“What are we doing?” you asked softly, curious and confused, all at the same time.

“I don’t know. But what I do know is that, right now, I’m not pretending we’re a thing.”

“That’s not fair, Charles.”

He knew what you meant. No further explanation was needed.

“I know.”

His hand moved up to your face, gently brushing your cheek.

To his surprise and yours, you didn’t pull away.

“I won’t lie to you: I still hate you, though, with total honesty, a bit less than before,” you whispered. “When we started all this, you were an arrogant asshole and a PR nightmare who thought he was entitled to everything. And don’t take offense to that last part: this is coming from someone who is definitely a nightmare for her own PR.”

“You told me you’d rather prefer Ferrari dropping you and ending up on a trash team than date me,” he murmured, countering, just a bit.

“And I still have the same opinion. I hate being told what to do at every moment. I hate being told how to act to be liked by others. What’s the point of being someone’s role model if you can’t even be yourself?”

Charles swallowed hard. The contact between your hands broke; he sat up straighter, pushing his chair back and standing. For some reason, you followed his lead.

“Can we try something?” he asked, changing the subject.

“What?”

“A kiss,” he said boldly. “Just one. You know… for the cameras.”

“There are no cameras, Charles…”

“Then let’s make it for us.”

You looked at him.

His stance was careful, but still relaxed. His eyes were shining more than they had since this whole thing started. You got the feeling he was really doing this for you, trying to make this nightmare a bit more bearable, easier to live through, and not more compromising than it already was.

And all of it… All of this was his entirely fault.

You decided to let go of all those intrusive, hateful thoughts, toward Charles and your fake relationship and you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a slow, warm, and somewhat tentative kiss.

You never thought you’d want to kiss a prince like the girls back in school or the driver academy did, but now… you understood them.

You wanted Charles. You desired Charles.

A lot.

The kiss wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t rushed either. Your hands went to his cheeks, toying with the collar of his shirt to pull him closer to you; Charles’ hands were on your waist, tracing it, touching your body in a way completely different from the night you had sex.

The moment you pulled away, you regretted doing so.

You let out a soft sigh, still filled with the sensation of his touch.

“You call that practice?” you looked at him intently, quite confused by what had just happened.

“Well… I don’t think it is, honestly.”

Instinctively, your body made you step away from him abruptly, brushing off the team hoodie you were wearing. You knew it was a defense mechanism to avoid showing vulnerability in front of him, something you had been doing more than you’d like during this entire date.

“Alright, that’s it. Great… Yep, great.”

Charles followed you and gently took your hand.

“Are you running away?” he asked, saddened.

“No, no…” 

Shit. You weren’t good at lying. Of course you were running away from him.

 “I’m just… trying to process this. That’s all.”

“Did you like it?”

“More than I want to admit,” you confessed.

Charles stepped closer to you.

“You can admit it, sweetheart. After all, we’re dating.”

“Pretending we’re dating, actually,” you corrected him, poking his chest.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re unbearable,” you shot back.

Charles took your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. You didn’t say anything, not even when you left the greenhouse and began walking into the palace, fully aware that you were headed toward your shared room.

“You realize this is going to get complicated, right?” you broke the silence quietly, resting your head on his arm as you walked.

“It already is, love…”

You nodded. You looked down at your still-intertwined hands.

“Do you think we should go on another date?” Charles asked, uncertain.

You looked into his eyes.

And this time, for the first time in your fake relationship, you nodded sincerely, though deep down you knew you should’ve said the opposite.

Because if there was one reason you were doing this, besides protecting your reputation and your future in Formula 1, it was to help start the rebellion. 

And the truth was that, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, falling in love with Charles Leclerc was never part of the plan.

[danikamariewrites]

How would modern Eris react to a reader who genuinely loves him but doesn’t want to get into a relationship with him because she doesn’t make as much as he does and is worried about not being able to contribute?

“You’d be better off with someone more well established.”

Not Enough

Eris x reader

Note: just a quick lil modern Eris fic and then I’m going back into hiding haha

“If you wanted to break up you could’ve just told me!” You shove the check into Eris’s chest with as much force as you can muster. “Next time, be a man and don’t send your daddy to do your bidding.” You spit, scowling as you turn to leave.

Eris looks down at the check. Disbelief and anxiety growing in his chest at seeing his fathers imposing signature scrawled on the paper for an obscene amount of money. All the memo line read was, moving costs.

Lucien swiped the check from Eris looking over it. His eyes went wide. “Go after her!” It takes Eris a long moment to figure out how to move.

Everything hits him at once. Like an anvil ripping through his body.

Eris books it out of his office. Running past confused employees and people trying to get his attention.

He slips in the elevator just as the doors are about to close, quickly jabbing the button for the next floor down to keep you from leaving.

Keeping your hands on your hips you have your face turned away from Eris. You don’t want him to see how red your cheeks are or the tears blurring your vision. Hearing the ding you pivot to walk out as fast as you can to escape him.

Eris grabs your bicep, pulling you to an empty room, slamming the door behind him. You feel like you could scream. How dare he corner you like this! Doesn’t he want to be away from you? You let out an angry laugh to keep from screaming at the entitled asshole blocking the door.

Facing Eris, the panicked look on his pale face takes you by surprise. He has his hands up in surrender. “Please, listen to me, I'm begging you my love.” Not able to hold back your tears anymore you let them stream down your cheeks, nodding at Eris to explain.

“First, I need you to tell me what happened. Why did my father give you money?” He asks softly.

“He came by my apartment to chat. Really it was just him telling me that I’m hindering your life and that I need to move on and find someone in my tax bracket. The line that really hurt was, ‘my son is too good for you and we both know that’.” You pause to swallow the lump in your throat. “That’s when he pulled out the check. He suggested I move far away and get a new phone number. The polite way of saying to never contact you again I suppose.”

Eris couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His face was slowly turning red with anger. How dare Beron meddle in his life like this! You’re perfect to and for Eris, how could he not see that?

“Maybe you should be with someone else,” you say it so quietly Eris almost doesn’t hear you. “What?” He asks in disbelief stalking toward you.

Looking up at him with defeat pulling at your face his heart breaks clean in two. “I’m not like you Eris. I’m not from your world of rich and sophisticated people, it would be better if you were with someone like that.” Unable to look into those amber eyes you’ve come to adore, you keep your face to the floor, moving to leave.

Eris gently grabs you by your shoulders pulling you into a warm embrace. The dam holding your sobs back breaks and you break down into his chest.

“It’s ok, it’s ok my love.” Eris whispers as he gives you a loving squeeze. The two of you stay like that until your tears dry up.

“Listen to me,” Eris says, tilting your chin up so you can’t shy away from him. “There is no one else for me, you are it. I knew it from the moment I laid eyes on you y/n. So don’t you dare, for a second, think that you are not enough for me.” Fresh tears flow down your cheeks. Happy ones this time that Eris gently brushes away with the pads of his thumbs. “You mean it?” You whisper.

“With my whole heart.”

You give him a bright watery smile. An unexpected giggle leaves your lips as you wipe at your face. “God I must look like a mess.” Eris kisses the top of your head to kindly avoid making a snippy comment you know he wants to.

“You are moving though.” You give Eris a confused look. “Into my place. That was actually the whole reason for our date tonight.” He pulls a small silver key attached to a souvenir keychain from your last vacation. You gape at Eris, speechless. “Er,” you take the key from his hand to cradle in your palm.

Without a second thought you pull your keys from your bag to attach the new keychain. Dangling them between the two of you, you give the cluster an approving nod. “Perfect.”

[nanamismoonchild]

lads men with their black mc on juneteenth

Nam's note: I almost got carried away with rafayel's. Lemurians and Black people have so much in common. It'll be a topic explored in disturbia though.

Rafayel

He's going to the Civil Rights Museum in Memphis with you

He's listening attentively and not making of side remarks (a/n: rafa really does throw the nastiest shade sometimes)

Sometimes he'll raise his hand and ask a few questions but otherwise he's unusually quiet.

You stop at a painting of a woman cradling a child as she picks cotton in the heat.

"Lemurians and Black people have gone through so much..."

"But both have become stronger people, Rafa."

Sylus

Refused to buy into big companies' use of Juneteenth to raise their profits.

He takes you to every black owned shop that he could find in the N109.

He finds one particular store that sells lingerie and ends up burning a hole through his pants (money wise yall) with how much he spends

Some of the colors he picks go well with your skin tone and he gets way too excited when you strut around (at home) for him.

Zayne

He made sure you the day off from the Hunter's Association.

"Let the white men do their job, darling."

"Who taught you that?"

"Dr.Umar."

"You're not even..."

"Shhhh" and you're coaxed back into the bed with a strawberry margarita, your bonnet, and the remote.

"Don't move from that spot."

He goes off to work but every hour after that, a delivery comes through.

So far you've eaten your way through a breakfast meal, some snacks that you enjoy, a lunch meal, and now you're waiting on another snack. Then dinner and dessert are waiting for you in the form of a man.

Xavier

Both of you had the day off from the Hunter's Association.

You wake up to smell of eggs and water burning and you beeline to the kitchen.

"Baby, what are you doing?"

"Making chicken and waffles. With grits and eggs for a side."

"I aint never taught you how to make grits."

"And you aint never gonna need to."

He points to the hologram thats streaming a familiar woman, that's clearly doing a play by play of making southern breakfast.

"Is that Patti Labelle?"

"That's auntie."

Caleb

If there was one thing about Black people that Caleb was learning, they only needed 1 excuse to barbecue or do a fish fry.

And that excuse today was the celebration of the slaves in Texas being freed from slavery even though they had been freed for almost 2 years.

He was more thrilled that you could be surrounded by the greatness of your people and he was simply just a visitor.

Although one of the uncles did make him takeover the grill while they went and smoked and played spades for a while.

"Why are you grilling?"

"Your uncle said something about 'poc unity.'"

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Ooo hii can I please request a platonic! Dad Steve Rogers x daughter!14/15 year old reader where she was the daughter of two SHEILD agents, so she grew up calling Nat and Clint Aunt and Uncle (as they were SHEILD agents) and she knew Steve ever since he came out of the ice, and also knew all of the rest of the Avengers and Fury. Unfortunately, as it turns out, Y/n’s parents were secretly two of the Hydra agents who were infiltrated in SHEILD and after SHEILD/Hydra fell, they were arrested for their crimes and their daughter was put in foster care. Poor Y/n has been through a lot and was acting out in school and getting in trouble with any foster home she was put in and one of the foster parents ended up just dropping the now 15 year old off at the Avengers Compound and telling them to keep her because they can’t handle her. It’d break the Avengers hearts how much her parents’ actions have affected her and they’d want to help the little girl they’d seen grow up🥺 Steve is able to connect with Y/n and she only listens to him (she does love the other Avengers too but she’s really mad at the world right now so she’s pushing them away🥺). Y/n would be sitting slumped on the Avengers’ couch in the lounge after her foster parents leave and look really sad, and Steve would sit with her and ask what has been going on with her and why she’s been getting in trouble and she’d tell him she doesn’t understand why her parents did such bad things, and she feels really alone and now that her foster parents just dropped her off at the Compound and left, she’d say no one wants her and she doubts the Avengers want her either because her parents caused so many people so much pain because they were Hydra agents🥺 Maybe some of her friends who’s parents were good SHEILD agents even stopped letting their kids see Y/n because her parents were found to be Hydra agents🥺 Steve would promise to take care of her and tells her she’s not a bad person like her parents and she promises she’ll try not to get in trouble anymore🥺 Steve becomes the Dad she’s always needed and deserves and she starts calling him Dad because he’s more of a parent than her corrupt parents ever were 🥺

You Have Me Now » Steve Rogers/Captain America

Pairings: Dad!Steve Rogers x Adopted Teen Daughter!Reader with the Avengers

Summary: With your biological parents in jail and your foster parents dropping you off at the Avengers compound, you feel alone, but Steve assures you that you have him now.

Warnings: Angst (not you and Steve), Fluff, language, child abandonment, crying, nicknames

A/N: @kpopgirlbtssvt thank you for the lovely request🩵

A/N #2: Italic text is flashbacks.

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckyys-babydoll / divider made by me

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

Ever since you were a kid, you never knew the reason why you’re parents got arrested. You had no clue what was going on. All you seen was your parents getting put in handcuffs and you got thrown into foster care. You never knew about HYDRA infiltrating SHIELD. You were a toddler at the time so you wouldn’t have known what was going on. What you did know at that age was that you were crying your eyes out and you wanted to be in the arms of your parents. You remember that day very well. You think about it all the time.

You saw a bunch of cops all around you. You looked everywhere for your parents. When you finally found them, you saw two cops putting handcuffs on them and put into a cop car.

“Mommy! Daddy!” You screamed, tears streaming down your face.

You ran over to the cop car they got put in, pounding your tiny fists against the car door. You got picked up by a cop and carried away. You squirmed in the cop’s arms to get away from him, but he only held onto you tighter. All you could do was stare at your parents who were in the back of the cop car. They didn’t even look at you. That’s hurt you. You were hoping the Natasha and Clint were around, but you didn’t see them anywhere.

“Y/N!” Your teacher’s voice brought you back to reality.

You blinked a couple times and looked at your teacher.

“Are you listening?” She asks.

You replied with a shoulder shrug.

“I need a better answer than that.” She says.

Besides your teacher, your fellow classmates had their eyes on you as well. You couldn’t take it anymore. You packed up your stuff and slung your backpack onto your shoulders and left the classroom without saying a word.

You went to the arcade down the street from school. You always go there to clear your mind. You didn’t bother sending a text to your foster parents to tell them where you are. They always blow your phone up with texts, but you never text them back. You just suffer the consequences when you get home.

When you got bored of the arcade, you decided to take a walk. Your foster parents were still texting you , asking you where you are. They called you and left voicemails too. You didn’t answer any of them. You found an abandoned building and decided to explore it.

“Hey, kid!” You heard a cop say.

You didn’t even bother to turn around and look at the cop. You decided to try to escape him by running as fast as your legs would let you. You didn’t get far. The cop caught up to you and grabbed your arm.

“Nice try.” The cop says.

You rolled your eyes as he led you to the cop car and took you home.

“There you are!” Your foster mom says, hugging you.

“Where was she?” Your foster dad asks the cop.

“I found her snooping around the old abandoned building.” The cop tells your foster parents.

“Thank you for bringing her home, officer. We’ll make sure she doesn’t do that again.” Your foster mom says.

You went inside to go straight to your bedroom, but you didn’t even get past the living room before you could.

“Living room now.” Your foster dad orders.

You rolled your eyes and went to the living room, plopping down on the couch. Your foster parents were standing in front of you like they’re about to interrogate you.

“The school called us and told us that you walked out of class and left school in the middle of the school day again.” Your foster mom says.

It’s not the first time the school called your foster parents and told you that you walked out of class and left school during the school day. This isn’t anything new to you.

“Do you want to explain why you did that again?” Your foster dad asks.

“I didn’t want to be there.” You say, shrugging your shoulders.

“We need a better answer than that.” Your foster mom says.

“Everyone stares at me all day and everyday. I got sick of it and decided to leave.” You say.

That’s actually true. Everyone at school does stare at you often for what your SHIELD -HYDRA- agent parents did when you were a toddler. The kids who’s parents are former SHIELD agents stare at you the most.

“You can’t just leave school in the middle of the school day just because people are staring at you.” Your foster dad says.

“Why? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done it.” You say.

Before your foster parents could say anything else, you left the living room to go to your bedroom. You dropped your backpack on the floor and threw yourself on your bed. You thought about the day your biological parents were arrested. You just wish you knew the reason why they were arrested and why they didn’t even look at you that day as you were being carried away by a cop.

“What are we going to do with her?” Your foster mom asks.

“I don’t know, but she’s not the little girl we adopted years ago.” Your foster dad says.

Your parents sighed to themselves as they tried to figure out what to do with you. To them, it seems like grounding you won’t do any good. They looked at each other when an idea popped into their minds… the same idea.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” She asks.

“If you’re thinking that we should take her to the Avengers, then I 100% agree.” He says.

Your foster parents talked out the plan and the next day when you were at school, they packed all of your stuff. You were oblivious to what’s going on when you got home from school. You went straight to your bedroom, only to see that none of your stuff was in there. The only things that were in there was a bed with no sheets, no blankets, and no pillows and a dresser with the drawers pulled out. Your closet was empty too.

“What the hell?” You say to yourself.

You were beyond confused. You left your empty bedroom and went to your foster parents who were in the kitchen.

“Where the hell is all of my stuff?” You asked.

“Packed up.” Your foster mom says.

“Packed up? Why?” You asked.

“We’re taking you somewhere. You’re not going to be living here anymore.” Your foster dad says.

“Where am I going?” You asked.

“You’ll see.” Your foster mom says.

Before you could protest or ask questions, you were ushered to the car where your stuff was packed up in suitcases and boxes. You got in the car and your foster parents drove you to the Avengers compound. You recognized the building immediately. You’ve seen it quite a few times. You were wondering why your foster parents brought you to the Avengers compound instead of the foster care center they adopted you from when you were a kid. The Avengers walked outside the compound. You seen recognized two of them.

“Aunt Natasha! Uncle Clint!” You exclaimed, running over to them.

You hugged them. Natasha and Clint looked at each other in confusion before giving you their undivided attention.

“What’s going on, kid?” Clint asks.

“Ask them.” You say, pointing at your foster parents.

Clint and Natasha took you inside of the compound and took you to the lounge room. You plopped down on the couch.

“We’ll be right back, ok?” Natasha says.

You nodded and slouched back on the couch.

“Cap, we need you.” Clint says as him and Natasha walked past him.

Steve followed Natasha and Clint outside to see your foster parents unloading your stuff from the car.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks your foster parents.

“You guys are going to be taking our foster daughter Y/N.” Your foster mom says.

“We’re not recruiting anyone.” Steve says.

“We didn’t bring her here to be a new recruit. We brought her here, because she’s too much for us to handle.” Your foster dad tells him.

“So you’re abandoning your foster daughter?” Natasha asks.

“We wouldn’t call it that. We just don’t know what to do with her anymore.” Your foster mom says.

“That sounds like child abandonment to us.” Clint says.

“Just keep her. We can’t handle her anymore. Please understand.” Your foster mom says.

“We don’t understand.” Steve says.

Your foster parents didn’t say anything else. They finished unloading your stuff from the car and left. Steve, Natasha, and Clint scoffed at their actions. They brought your stuff inside and then went to the lounge room to check on you, along with the rest of the Avengers. You were still slouched back on the couch with the look of sadness on your face.

“I never meant to act out and get in trouble.” You spoke. “I have a reason why I’ve been acting out and getting into trouble.” You say.

“We believe you.” Steve says.

You sensed that Steve is a trusting person, which made you feel a bit better. You looked at Steve with teary eyes.

“I’m all alone now. I have no friends. The friends I did have don’t want to be my friend anymore because of who my biological parents are.” You say, your voice cracking.

That broke the Avengers hearts to hear you say. Steve knew he had to do something to help you and he knows exactly what to do.

“You’re not alone anymore. You have me now.” Steve says.

“Really?” You asked.

“Of course. Someone needs to take care of you.” He says softly.

That made you feel a little more better. Steve and the Avengers got you settled in one of the spare bedrooms and helped you moved your stuff in your new bedroom. You unpacked your things after that.

“What did she mean by who her biological parents are?” Steve asks Natasha and Clint.

“Y/N’s biological parents posed as SHIELD agents before we knew it was HYDRA.” Clint says.

“They got arrested after HYDRA got taken down and they’ve been in jail ever since. Y/N was a kid at the time when it happened.” Natasha says.

“Poor kid. I wish there was something we can do for her.” Steve says softly.

In fact, there is one thing Steve can do to help you. He’s going to adopt you.

———

Months go by since your foster parents dropped you off at the Avengers compound and left you there. You’ve been happier since that day. You haven’t been acting out or gotten into trouble in months. The best part about living in the Avengers compound is how close you’re getting with the Avengers. You were close to Natasha and Clint when you were a kid, but you grew even closer to them. Steve adopted you and you call him dad. As for the rest of the Avengers, you’re getting close to them as well.

Right now, you’re sitting on the floor in the lounge room and putting stickers on your dad’s shield. Why? Because you’re bored and you want to make his shield look cooler.

“You know your dad is going to get mad when he sees the stickers you put on his shield.” Clint says.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” You say.

“Why are you putting stickers on his shield anyway?” Sam asks.

“To make it look even cooler.” You say.

Your tongue poked out of your mouth as you continued to put stickers on your dad’s shield. You were so focused on his shield and the stickers that you didn’t hear your dad walk in the lounge room.

“Have you guys seen my shield?” Steve asks.

“I have it.” You say.

You put one more sticker on it and gave it to Steve.

“Why did you putting stickers on it?” He asks.

“To make it look cooler.” You tell him. “Do you like it?” You asked.

“I love it, kiddo and I love you.” He says, ruffling your hair.

“I love you too, dad.” You smiled up at him.

-Bucky’s Doll

[howlingday]

Jaune: Where is Ruby I need her to change the subject Chat: You're the one who brought up the subject!

Ruby: (Enters) Chat... Chat, chat, chat... How is everyone doing today~?

Jaune: How are you?

Ruby: Whoa, I wasn't expecting this. Are you actually taking interest in what I'm doing~?

Jaune: Talk about anything

Ruby: Why does it feel like you're only asking me to hide- Hang on. (Scrolls up, Reads) From Jaune, "Guys, I am not a furry, it's just a coincidence"...

Ruby: Wait a second, stop right here. "I was playing GnG immediately after the stream where you all accused me of being a furry, and then I felt sick because I was playing a BeastKin. Am I really that predictable?"

Ruby: Jaune, are you only asking me how I'm doing to distract the fact that you've been caught self-reporting?

Jaune: Lots of people like BeastKin!

Ruby: Yeah. Furries. There's nothing wrong with being a furry! I mean, I feel like the people who pass the most judgement are in fact the ones who are trying to hide the fact that they are fascinated by it, but are also terrified of that fascination. And by the way, that's NOT just about furries. But enough about that because we're gonna be playing "No More Room In Hell"!

Jaune: There's always room in hell for people like you. Oscar: There's also room at furry conventions in case you were wondering.

Ruby: ...So Jaune just said what he said, and then a first-time chatter just swung back with that, and that is honestly based as fuck, guys.

[gotskamstuff]

I strongly believe that Rudy Pankow doesn’t have a single person in his life that cares about his career, and no I’m not talking about drama and relationships and silly things like that, I genuinely mean it as in management and the team around him.

It’s crazy to look back at 2020 when Outer Banks just came out and how much Rudy was the IT BOY, you couldn’t escape JJ Maybank edits and JJ Maybank talk ANYWHERE, his face monopolized social media and he definitely was the new celebrity crush from Netflix for excellence, at one point in 2020-2021 he was THE boy from Outer Banks when the show itself was at the peak of its popularity and success, the fact that NOTHING happened for him after that is just surreal.

He could have been in Drew’s and Madelyn’s position right now with the same level of fame and influence around him and the same built up in his career, but nobody got him there. Looking at how Rudy and Drew/Madelyn started with the show and where they are now truly highlights the importance of a good management team around you.

Almost everyone in the OBX cast has worked on other Netflix projects after the debut of the series BUT Rudy, when he was at the peak of his fame not a single big project was in store for him and let’s be real, not only he can act but nowadays casting takes A LOT in consideration popularity and clout of the individuals, he had a world of possibilities in his hands and he could have been casted in anything he wanted ESPECIALLY from Netflix and other streaming platforms aiming for teen dramas and young audiences, yet they kept pushing him towards these blockbusters movies, short films and independent small projects FOR YEARS to the point where all the hype around him had already died down.

To then even get to where we are now in 2024/2025 allowing him to quit the biggest job he has from the main project in his career with a big network like Netflix (massive both in terms of money and influence in the industry) to go play secondary characters in some TikTok books adaptation with controversial writers… DOES ANYONE IN HIS TEAM REALLY HAS ANY COMPETENCE AND KNOWS HOW TO ADVISE HIM FOR THE BEST AND FOR THE SAKE OF HIS CAREER??? DO THEY EVEN HAVE CONTACTS AT THE LEVEL THAT HE NEEDS TO BE?

And I know it’s the management ‘cause for YEARS the same has been happening to Jonathan Daviss who’s in the same management agency as Rudy Pankow, the only difference and saving grace for JD is that I believe his parents (who are managers at that company) are his agents and therefore actually care about him and in fact his career is finally starting to move somewhere now.

I also do strongly believe that had he been with a serious management company and with people who knew how to advise him professionally for the sake of his career (both managers and public relations team) then he would’ve also been advised borderline forbid him from quitting Outer Banks and telling him to “suck it up and do the job for a few more months, leave it to us and we’ll handle how to contract this around your needs” but instead the STRONG vibes I get from Rudy and his manager’s relationship is that it’s far too personal and way less professional than it needs to be, like it keeps going out of affection for one another and familiarity, not wanting to let go of each other.

It’s incredibly common for actors that start as “nobodies” to then change management agencies once the career gets to a whole new level and fame hits, ‘cause simply the small agency that you started with as an unknown face doesn’t have the contacts nor the relevance that you need once you’re going up levels and you need people who can get you in touch with big names, people that you can’t find at small companies for up and coming young actors.

Mind you, I’m not saying that Rudy is free of any guilt for how things unfolded in his career and especially with Outer Banks (to the contrary, I’m sorry but I am very disappointed and resentful towards him regarding OBX) and at some point after years in the industry you also should start to learn something and think about the best for your own sake, but I think that the right people around him could have made a MASSIVE difference from the very beginning and he should’ve switched to a bigger company as soon as Outer Banks came out in 2020 and he blew up overnight.

[boyfriendtodeathconfessional]

I absolutely ADORE ☢️'s analysis. I don't think I can compete in their interpretation of the question, so I decided to take a different approach! While ☢️ interpreted things as how realistic the deaths/torture is, I thought it might be interesting to see how realistic the killers feel in terms of personality/motivation! I wanted to judge them on which killers feel like more of a fantasy for the player vs killers that seem like irl murderous abusers.

Strade: I absolutely love Strade, but what draws me to him also makes him unrealistic as a killer imo. That man genuinely loves humanity. Sure he tortures people, but that's because he believes it's the best way to showcase their individuality! He wants to see their unique characteristics and vibrant personalities. I don't think that sort of personality is conducive to murder irl. I think he's too prone to getting attached to his victims as well (even if it is in an obsessive and violent way). Also there's no way his ADHD ass could successfully cover up his snuff career. He'd fuck up and get got pretty quickly imo. Also Gato confirmed he pays taxes, BUT HOW DOES HE DO THAT WHEN ALL HIS MONEY IS MADE FROM MAKING SNUFF STREAMS??? Idk, I just feel like the Canadian government would have some questions for him.

Ren (and Fox by extension): Ren feels like one of the least realistic killers to me (which isn't a bad thing at all!). His character is more of an exploration of trauma and cycles of abuse, which I love story wise. However in terms of irl logistics? It's unlikely. Irl people in positions similar to Ren's (victim turned accomplice (ik he's not actually an accomplice, but the vibes are close enough feelings wise)) typically tend to either get caught or turn themselves in early on. This is further compounded by the fact that Ren seems to also be a bit impulsive, but lacks the technical knowledge that Strade does. His snuff streaming career is getting put to an end VERY early.

Lawrence: Honestly what I find least realistic about Lawrence is the fact that he hasn't found himself on 4chan yet. Like he's a socially isolated autistic loner man with anger issues? Congratulations son, you're getting radicalized! Fr tho, most of Lawrence's murderous tendencies stem from a supernatural encounter. So not exactly applicable to real life.

Derek: Do I believe there are actual murder retreats irl? Eh. Not really. Do I think there are irl Derek's? Absolutely. There are fucking oodles of Derek's or aspiring Derek's. Look at the whole "alpha male/red pill" community and tell me that this *isn't* the kind of lifestyle they want to live!!! The most unrealistic part of Derek's character is the fact that he doesn't seem to be openly misogynistic or homophobic, and I chock that up almost entirely to the MC needing to be ambiguously gendered. Plus look at how insanely insecure his bitchass is!!! We all know a guy like Derek, even if he isn't going out and killing people in the desert. I'd say he's the most realistic Gatobob character overall.

Celia: There are plenty of women in Celia's position, however I don't think there are too many who seriously contemplate violence against innocent people. Most women experiencing similar conditions to Celia with the same vindictive spite seem to be pretty content to take their frustrations out on employees and customer service workers. Yes, I think irl Celia would just be a Karen, sue me. I love her high glam femme fatale rizz, but irl? Even if she did have the motivation to kill, the control she's under because of her position in the social hierarchy would severely limit her power to enact anything serious.

Mason: As much as Mason feels like a horror movie killer in terms of mindset and tactics, his ruthlessness and practicality do lend a certain grounded edge to him. I think that my biggest complaint with him is trying to figure out how someone who's so off the grid could also participate in black market dealings. Who the fuck set up this man's computer and taught him what a VPN was? Or if it's all in person, HOW DOES HE GET AROUND? Does he have a passport? A driver's license? Because if so, the government absolutely knows he exists and is gonna be REALLY curious how he's making his money. I have no clue about how these things work in Canada tho, so I might be wrong.

Feel free to correct me if I made any mistakes! I'm almost certainly wrong or biased with some of these lol

- 🔪🔪🔪

.

[physalian]

I came across a pro-genai argument yesterday saying that we shouldn’t all have to “suffer for our art” and if using AI makes it easier, why shouldn’t we? Don’t you want your book out faster? Don’t you want more art on the market faster? Don’t you want to get popular as quickly as possible so you can enjoy it for that much longer.

And to that I have to say, because the internet really be like this now:

If you think the concept of putting in effort to create something meaningful counts as “suffering” you have never struggled a day in your life.

As a writer, “suffering for my art” would look like purposeful sleepless nights forcing myself to write without any reward until I get it done. It would mean robbing myself of the joy and respite of other activities because I don’t deserve fun things until I finish the manuscript.

My book will be done when it’s good and ready and when I’m unmotivated, then I’m unmotivated.

Of course I don’t want to have to wait until I’m 50 to be discovered. Of course I want to enjoy being a writer and be able to survive off writing income for as long as possible.

Shockingly, I got a book out in 7 months, from concept to publication. No ai needed. Can everyone do that? No.

Would I feel the same sense of accomplishment if I knew that a robot “helped” any part of the process? No. I’d feel like an imposter overwhelmed with anxiety that I’d be discovered as a fraud.

As I've said before, if all you care about is making money and being famous, you don’t want to be an artist, you just want to be rich and famous and want the title of ‘famous artist’ because it looks shiny.

I also heard yesterday from my sibling, and later googled, that Doja Cat doesn’t like some of her earlier songs or two of her albums and wrote what she knew would sell. She did it for money and fame, and people aren’t happy.

Quote from People: "planet her and hot pink were cash-grabs and yall fell for it," tweeted Doja Cat, 27. "now i can go disappear somewhere and touch grass with my loved ones on an island while yall weep for mediocre pop."

Why? I never liked her music in the first place but if you do like her music, and you really connect with it, and it has so much meaning to you, and you find out that the artist thinks it’s ‘hokey’ and stupid… well I’d feel embarrassed, first, and then rightfully pissed, next. My sibling was one of her fans, and isn’t happy.

It’s one thing for an artist to be critical of their own work and acknowledge that they’ve had growth and can do better, which appears to be the case for her earlier songs. But this?

I may think my old fanfics are cringey, but I’m not going in the comments on ffn and telling everyone who somehow still go back to read my ancient fanfics “y’all are dumbasses for liking this trash”.

I’m baffled and honored that I still get notifications.

If the artist doesn’t care about their own art, why should their audience? And if this is some weird rage-bait joke of hers, if nothing else it’s in poor taste and I wouldn’t keep supporting her anyway.

“The song is still the same song—” ok but now I’ll pirate it if I really want to listen to it. I’m not giving her money, I’m not buying her merch, I’m not streaming her on Spotify.

I’m not an HP fan but the same would go with JKR. I’d check her books out from the local library or buy them secondhand if I really wanted to read them that badly.

You are not entitled to fame and glory just because you have a cool idea and had a robot produce it for you. You’re not entitled to fame and glory even if you have a cool idea and spend decades perfecting it with your own two hands. There is no entitlement, period.

I’m somebody who ardently disagrees with cancel culture and how the impossible standards of squeaky-clean perfection can mean any one small thing a famous person does has people extrapolating horrific assumptions just to tear them down as if they’ve always been frauds and we’re just waiting to be proven right because we’re addicted to outrage.

Telling your fans that you don’t believe in the art that you create is, however, cancel-worthy. Whether you’re an artist/author who makes it clear up front that you’re pro-ai, or you attempt to hide it and inevitably get discovered later, audiences cry real tears over the struggles of their favorite characters. If we find out that you’re barely even aware that struggle happened because you’re just copy-pasting generated schlock, yeah, we’re going to be pissed.

It’s like when Marvel movies laugh at themselves before the audience can laugh at them. When they joke about ‘yellow spandex’ and the concept of superheroes, how they’re not allowed to be sincerely heartfelt without a joke undercutting it because they’re just superheroes, guys, we know it’s stupid.

Or the writers of Supernatural making jokes and caricatures of their thousands of shipper fans who singlehandedly kept the show popular enough to last 15 seasons.

Take away the plagiarism, take away the theft and the environmental impact, for a second.

If I find out that my favorite author had such low confidence in their own ability, and such little faith in their own ideas, that they resorted to consulting the magic conch, I’d feel betrayed. I believe in your ideas. If you can’t, fuck you.

[whoslaurapalmer]

hello. I give you a list of some of my mom's top favorite christmas movies (also some of my own top favs!!) that you should definitely watch if you get the time!!

fitzwilly (1967) -- dick van dyke frequently commits capers so the woman he works for never realizes she's poor -- and also because, he just really loves doing it. he must pull off his final caper to set everything right on christmas eve, in the hallowed gimbels department store. a great cast of character actors in this, including john mcgiver and john fiedler (the voice of piglet!!)

the man who came to dinner (1942) -- the incredible monty woolley, playing an acerbic, egotistical radio host, slips on some icy steps, gets stuck in a house while recovering from the subsequent broken hip, and causes Massive Seasonal Havoc for literally every single person alive. literally the most incredible dialogue you will ever, ever hear, with the most perfect cast to ever come together

the shop around the corner (1940) -- the og you've got mail, with james stewart and margaret sullavan playing the feuding coworkers unknowingly in love with each other (i prefer in the good old summertime (1949), the musical version with judy garland and van johnson (and s.z. sakall!! and buster keaton!!) (and still christmasy, despite the title!!), but! I think we should all see shop around the corner at least once. ernst lubitsch, you know.)

larceny inc (1942) -- edward g robinson parodies his gangster roles in the classic con tale of "recently-released criminal buys store near bank in order to tunnel into the safe". if you've seen edward g play it completely serious in like, double indemnity, PLEASE watch larceny inc, he truly has some of the most incredible comedic delivery ever, as do edward brophy and broderick crawford, also some classic noir and gangster actors having the time of their lives being silly

we're no angels (1955) -- humphrey bogart, peter ustinov, and aldo ray (eric da re's father!!) play escaped criminals who intend to rob a store but end up helping the family who runs it keep it out of the hands of their conniving relative, played by basil rathbone. it can be a little slow but is honestly, very sweet, a little absurd, a little dark comedy, just such a time all around

christmas in connecticut (1945) -- the most Shenanigans to EVER shenanigan. barbara stanwyck plays a magazine writer who's been lying about her life in order to keep her job and write a homesteading column. she cannot cook, or farm, and is not even married. her editor (sydney greenstreet!!) has a recovering soldier come stay at her (unbeknownst to him, actually nonexistent) farm to experience good christmas feeling. Cue The Most Zany Series Of Shenanigans To Keep Up An Absolute Mountain Of Lies

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Sorry for not having a Year of the Dragon MDZS artwork; Unfortunately, I can only picture Dragon LWJ in this particular flavour.

[bylrndgm]

JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS (2020) // JULIE E OS FANTASMAS (2011) 1.01 - Wake Up // 1.01 - Enfrentando Fantasmas -> Julie meets the Band.

[sieglinde-freud]

oh im obsessed with this actually… who ever wrote this one i am kissing u on the forehead and hugging you real tight… inigo is such a loverboy im kkkhhhhhhijnsdnfng

[murmuringbug]

WAIT! I haven't seen anyone mention that bad is adding translations to munchymc yet!

He is currently testing a thing where it will translate a message sent in chat to a whole bunch of different languages!

Its genuinely so cool!