#regron

[nepotismthis]

missing them extra lately

[ijafterhours]

inside job after hours comeback era?

blows dust off the microphone stand .

HONEEYYYYYYYY I'M HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

if you don't know me- hi, i'm laika, from boxing day 2022 to august 2023, i was writing and releasing two seasons of speculative television script as a rage-filled spinoff to inside job (slightly pre) and post cancellation!

it's been a while since i wrote it, so some little things don't hold up to me, but the full thing in its essence is extremely nostalgic and i am so proud of it to this day!

i've been wanting to do this for a while, compiling ijah on a03- but i couldn't work out the way to change the font to script font and it looks ugly . today i've said fuck it and embraced the ugliness, in hopes of maybe giving ijah a renaissance and introducing it to new readers!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

maybe even get this blog up and running again alongside it, if that's something anyone's interested in?

if you've been here from the beginning- hi again! ily. you truly made the world go around back in ye olde day when this was releasing live. ily

there will be no update schedule for this, i'm just going to update as much as i can when i have time during my winter break at university!

thanks for sticking around!

[absent-jonas]

WHO EVER MADE THIS FUCKING PLAYLIST, I HOPE YOU FINF HAPPINESS.

a really good playlist, actually. I do feel like Reagan relating to these songs, TIME TO DRAW!! well, sketch, for some reason, I can't draw reagan anymore?? God, someone help me draw her again

[fiuworks]

HAPPY 3 YEARS TO PIT!!!

oagghh.

three years since we started publishing our niche teen dystopia inside job fic on A03…and the first year in which it’s been fully completed!!! jokes on us for saying we’d have it done in a single summer……

i did promise to redraw this last year and forgot so i was SO determined to redraw it again this year and i did!

if you’ve read pit at all, thank you for reading, but if you’re just finding this now and are interested in the premise- find it on A03 at the link below! 24 chapters, 134k words, a bonus oneshot and another oneshot on the way!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46634104/chapters/117443581

and as always. the most massive of thanks and love to my writing partner in crime @nepotismthis for writing pit with me and spending all these years being crazy with me…without you there’d be no nothing <3

[quackaiii]

I saw a comment saying that brett was more of a romantic interest for Reagan than Ron was. Also, they said that Ron was more of a sexual interest. Idc about breagan. Like good for you, I like it but also you can't diss Ron and Reagan. Sure, they had sex in the beginning, but they couldn't be casual. Like within an episode or two, they wanted to make it official. Ron loved reagan, and she loved him back. She loved Ron so much that she looked at every possible universe and saw that ron would never be happy if he was with her workaholic self. The only reason why Reagan didn't want to go and have a life with Ron is because it's literally engraved in her brain to put work first. We saw that in the episode where Rand takes away Reagan's only friend, so he has a part of the company with him (reagan). So that there's no distractions.

[impuubus]

holo-chamber fun

[luzofmivida]

Whumpuary Day 1: memory loss / tied up / winter

Show: Inside Job

Characters: Reagan Ridley and Ron Staedtler (Martin Higgins)

/

He woke up to cold air biting at his exposed skin and ropes digging into his wrists. Martin immediately recognized the chill of Wisconsin winter.

Trying to calm his panic, he forced deep breaths until the stab of cold was too much for his lungs to take. However he got stuck out here, that didn’t matter. It was night and it was freezing and that could be fatal. Martin had to figure out how to get back inside before he could think of how to recall the past.

“You’re awake,” came a voice from nearby.

Darkness had long since settled over the sky and a bitter chill was rising up from the ground, seeping into Martin’s bones.

Yet the sound of that voice sparked heat inside of him. A flicker of warmth without the recognition of why.

“Oh God, you’re awake. I didn’t think you would wake up this fast. I thought you would have been able to sleep better, after everything.”

She crouched in front of Martin before he could even think to back away. Nothing about her appearance was familiar, but her voice continued to haunt him in a way that felt similar to déjà vu.

“Say something, Ron,” she begged. Her expression bordered on childish. Far too guilt-ridden to make Martin feel scared.

“My name isn’t Ron,” Martin whispered. He could see his words warming the air between them. Part of him expected the woman to disappear once the steam touched her face.

“That’s right,” she murmured. “You’re not Ron.”

As she reached out to touch him, Martin flinched away, and tears filled her eyes instantly. She bowed her head away from him. There was a sharp inhale of breath before her shoulders began to tremble.

“You’re not Ron anymore.”

“Anymore?” Martin echoed. “Lady, I don’t know who you are and I don’t think you know who I am, either. This has to be a mistake. Cut me loose and we can figure this out.”

But her shoulders shook harder and she began to shake her head. On her hands and knees, she crawled closer to him. It seemed impossible for her to look any more hurt as he tried again to move away from her reach.

“Are you sure you don’t remember? Staedtler, are you sure?”

All Martin could do was stare. How familiar her voice sounded. The one he heard in his dreams, telling him that he was brave, that he deserved a chance for a new life, that he would find his happiness one day.

The voice that told him she missed him.

“You remember,” the woman said. Her eyes had narrowed. She was studying him too closely to give into her previous emotions.

“I don’t remember you,” Martin snapped, but this time no woeful expression altered her features in response.

“But you remember something. Tell me.”

Martin struggled to sit up. His back pressed against a tree. He rubbed the rope around his wrist against the bark of it, but nothing happened.

“It’s the middle of the night and the temperature is dropping. We don’t have time for this,” he grumbled.

“I’ll stay out here until the sun comes up,” the woman countered. She sounded strong but there was desperation lacing her words. “Just try to remember.”

Martin stared at her. Perhaps she was getting in his head, because he was actually waiting for her features to take shape in his mind, for her name to materialize on his lips.

A beat passed. Nothing came to mind.

“You’re deranged and you need help,” Martin spat.

Incredulously, she started to smile. The shadows beneath her eyes grew darker but the feverish glint in her gaze glowed brighter. She began to laugh. The heel of her hand came up against her forehead, where she rubbed and pressed.

“I know. I know! You think I’m not aware of that, Ron? This was barely an idea before I set it into motion. I’m losing it.”

She sighed and cradled her elbows in her hands. The action wasn’t meant to warm her. It betrayed her guilt.

“I couldn’t even sit still long enough to think this through," came her dejected voice. "I just can't forget you no matter how hard I try. Isn't that ironic? You're here and I'm the one trying to forget.”

The woman wasn’t making sense, but Martin sensed that she was doubting herself enough for him to take over. He sat up a little taller, trying to put on a sympathetic face. Now, though, she was only looking at him from the corner of her eye.

“I miss you, Ron. I know if it were possible, you’d miss me, too.”

Martin couldn’t conceal the way her words shot through him like a crack of thunder. He couldn’t hide the realization in his gasp nor the urge to lean closer to her.

“No,” he all but hissed before she could say anything else. “I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but you’re not… not real. This isn’t real. Any minute I’m going to wake up.”

Martin was warm in his bed and sound asleep under blankets. He was probably dreaming so hard that he was sleeptalking and twitching.

“But until then, you’re stuck here with me, listening to my voice,” the woman said.

Martin glared at her without any real contempt.

“You remember my voice.”

After a long moment, he nodded. The woman’s expression softened. She looked behind herself, scanning the surroundings. When Martin copied her, he realized that they were barely beyond the property of his home. There was his house up ahead. He looked at the woman again. How she had been strong enough to get him this far, Martin didn’t know.

“Maybe that’s enough for me,” she said softly enough for Martin to know that she wasn’t talking to him. “Because you’re free. I can’t chain you to what you used to be. I can’t do that to you.”

“What?” Martin whispered. He tried to match her tone of voice, tried to lull her into explaining herself to him, but she continued to tune him out.

“I’m not trying hard enough,” she was whispering. “But I can’t tamper with you any more. You’ll meet her soon. You’ll be happy again soon. Then, as long as you’re happy, I’ll be happy.”

The glint in her eyes had faded when she looked back at Martin. Her gaze roamed over him, taking him in the exact same way he was searching her, scouring his mind for clues as to why she was here. Nothing came, though, and by the time Martin’s eyes reached hers, she was smiling at him in a way that told him the end was near.

“You’ll be happy again soon, Martin. And then, I guess, so will I.”

Before he could ask her anything, the woman raised a device to his head and aimed with careful precision. Martin closed his eyes on instinct.

There was a strange sound and then he realized that his chance had passed. He should have kept his eyes open. He should have looked at her one last time. He should have asked what her name was, or who she was, or who he was to her.

But Martin lost consciousness and did not regain it until the next morning, when her voice still echoed between his ears. Unlike other mornings, though, this time the vision of her was fresh in his mind.

Martin would try to remember. It was always in vain, with hollow results, but he would keep trying to remember.

After all, that's what she had been begging him to do.

[nepotismthis]

3 years of these guys... can you believe it... i can't... i feel so old