#and he fully posted this on facebook

[britneyshakespeare]

around 6 o'clock (east coast u.s. standard time) some guy from fucking australia, with no mutual friends obviously, friend- and message-requested me on facebook saying he hoped i didn't mind the add, but "you came up in my recommended and are the cutest ginger i've ever seen." and it like literally gave me chills because holy hellllll, how the FUCK did this guy find my profile? i have no public posts; i hardly ever comment on public posts; i don't post in large, active groups; etc etc etc etc so it creeped the FUCK out of me. sometimes fb puts ppl w no mutual friends in my "people you may know" but, creepily enough, they often are people i... know, if not have some sort of mutual connection with? like they might be old classmates or friends of friends creating new profiles (so no mutual friends yet), etc. and this is true for ppl who also don't have info on their profile saying they live in/near my hometown, went to my school at some point, etc. like THAT is very creepy how meta somehow knows that. but this guy from australia i am absolutely sure i have no connection to whatsoever. WHY WOULD I???? i have no connection to australia at all other than a couple of mutuals i have on here.

so anyway i took a screenshot of the message and showed it to my friends cuz i was freaking out about it and needed to get that off my chest and one friend was like "why dont you block him" (me reading that 4 hours later) and im like you know what i didnt think it was necessary but not a bad idea. and i go to check the message request and the message was unsent, and he also deleted the friend request. lmaooooo. maybe his girlfriend found his phone

[sugarplum217]

Essence Of Loyalty (Pt.1)

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black Plus Size Female Reader

Warnings: MDNI (18+) contains sexual explicit content, heavy smut, spit play, oral sex, A VERY HEAVY USE OF “daddy” and “mama”, unprotected sex, cursing, major dirty talk, creampie, mentions of murder, lots of heavy sexual flirtation, detailed sexual acts , fluff

AuthorsNote: Please excuse any mistakes or grammatical errors. I hope you enjoy the story and remember to be kind and if you want to be tagged in the next part let me know.

Summary: Everyone and their mama has been trying to either set you up on a date with someone or continuously remind you that your clock is ticking away. That you weren’t getting any younger and your looks would eventually fade. What they didn’t know is that you already had your special someone. In fact you’ve had him a while. You know how that saying goes, “Good things come to those who wait” and for you in this instance. It was nothing but the waiting game for your special someone to finally walk into your life. The question is .. would it be acceptable for everyone else?

You never expected to fall in love with a man behind bars. It started as nothing more than a random click—some late-night curiosity fueled by boredom and an ad that popped up between Facebook posts. Find love where you least expect it. Meet single men looking for companionship. You damn near scrolled past it, but something made you stop. Maybe it was the way the words “love” and “companionship” stood out, teasing something you didn’t realize you were craving. Maybe it was just the boredom, the same mundane routine of work, home, sleep, repeat, stretching on like a treadmill you couldn’t step off. Either way, you clicked. Scrolling through the profiles felt like flipping through a catalog you had no business browsing. Men of all ages and backgrounds, some looking for friendship, others for love. But none of them caught your attention. That is—until you saw him. Inmate 07541, Terrance Richmond. Baby, that mugshot stopped you cold. Rich buttery light caramel skin, sharp jawline, and full lips that looked like they could whisper secrets straight into your soul. His nose was strong, his features chiseled, but it was those damn piercing uniquely colored eyes that did it. Deep-set, hooded, with a stare so intense you could feel it through the screen. Something about them made your heart stutter—like he was looking at you, past you, into you. There was no forced smile, no tough-guy posturing. Just that stare. You hesitated, hovering over the message button. What the hell were you doing? Messaging a man serving time? A man who, according to his bio, had been locked up since he was 18? Still, curiosity won. You typed out a casual introduction—something light, something safe—and hit send. Then you pushed it to the back of your mind, fully expecting no response, but he wrote back. And not just some half-assed, one-line reply. He wrote you back.

That first message turned into another. And another. Emails became long letters, paragraphs bleeding into pages, until you found yourself rushing home from work just to see his name in your inbox. You learned everything about him—the way he used to play football before his life changed, the music he listened to, the books he read to escape the four walls of his cell. He told you about his past, the pain, the betrayal, the night everything changed. And you told him about yours—how life felt like it was happening at you instead of for you. How you wanted more, but you didn’t know what more even looked like. Then came the sweet video calls. The first time you saw him move, saw that sharp jaw flex when he smiled, heard that deep, velvety voice rumble straight through the screen—you were done. Hooked. Gone. Two years later, here you were. In a relationship—a real one, even if nobody knew. And in a few days, he’d be free. And that? That scared you more than anything.

“You always got an excuse, girl. What is tea?”Sonya’s voice snapped you back to the present, and you blinked, realizing your fork had been hovering over your plate for way too long. It was lunchtime at Taste Of The South Cafe, your usual Friday spot with the girls. The table was cluttered with half-empty margarita glasses, plates of fried catfish and mac and cheese, and the scent of honey butter croissants floating in the air. Normally, this was your escape from the monotony of work. But today? You were ready to go.

“I just wanna relax,” You half way lied, pushing your food around. Sonya wasn’t buying it. Neither was Deja.

“Girl, please,” Deja scoffed. “Every time we plan a girls’ night, your ass come up with something. What’s up? You sneakin’ around with somebody?”

“Ain’t nobody sneakin’.” You forced a laugh, shaking your head. 

“Then why you always rushin’ home like you got a man waitin’ on you?” Sonya arched a brow, swirling her margarita.

“Because I do.” You thought to yourself. But you didn’t say that. Instead, you shrugged, hoping they’d let it go. They didn’t.

“You sure it ain’t that new dude in accounting?” Deja pressed. “The one with the Audi and the beard? Girl, he is fine.”

“Not my type,” You said quickly.

Sonya snorted. “And what is your type? Because last time I checked, you were single as hell.”

You just smiled, keeping your real thoughts locked up tight. Because your type wasn’t something you could explain to them. Your type wasn’t sitting in an office, making six figures, and posting gym selfies on Instagram. Your type was locked behind bars. A man who had spent more of his life inside than out. A man whose voice alone made your thighs clench, whose absence felt like a missing limb. But they wouldn’t get that. So you just laughed it off, switched the subject, and counted down the hours until you could talk to him. The day dragged. By the time you made it to your car, your feet were aching, your patience was shot, and you were tired. But none of that mattered. Because in just a few minutes, he’d be calling. The drive home was full of bumper-to-bumper traffic and the usual call from your mama.

“Hey ma” You greeted, honking the car in front of you to move their ass. 

“Hey my baby. You comin’ to dinner this weekend?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” You make a face, thanking god she can’t see you.

“Good. Your sister’s bringing her fiancé.” She said, her tone laced with excitement. Of course, she was. Your older sister had the picture-perfect life—a man, a ring, a timeline that fit neatly into the family’s expectations.

“And he’s bringing his brother,” You mother added casually.

You sighed. “Ma—”

“Just be open-minded! You’re a beautiful girl, and you ain’t gettin’ any younger.” She reminded for the hundredth time. You gritted your teeth, gripping the steering wheel. If only she knew. But you decided to let it go. 

“I’ll see you Saturday.” You shook your head, hanging up.By the time you got home, it was 6:59pm. You barely had time to drop your purse before your phone lit up with that Incoming Call from your ‘Big Daddy’. You squealed, feeling your heart flip. 

You snatched it up, answering with a smile. “Hey, baby.”

“Damn, I needed to hear your voice.” A low chuckle rumbled through the speaker, deep enough to send heat pooling between your thighs. 

You melted instantly. “Long day?”

“Long as hell,” He sighed. “But I knew I’d be hearin’ from you, so I got through it.”

Your chest tightened. “I missed you.”

“Yeah? I missed you more baby” He smirked. You could hear it in his voice. “Tell me about your day, baby.”

So you did. You told him everything—lunch with your nosy-ass friends, your mama trying to set you up. And he listened quietly like always when it came to your day and what crazy ass story you had ready for him. That was one of the many things you loved about Terry, how he could just listen and never get tired of you talking. 

“Don’t sweat that shit, baby. You got a man.” He chuckled, low and smooth. That possessiveness made your toes curl.

“Yeah?” you teased. “I got a man?”

“Hell yeah,” He murmured. “And in a few days, you gon’ have me in every way possible.”

Your breath hitched and your body got hot. Because in just a few days, Terry Richmond would be free. And you would finally be his.  You adjusted the phone against your ear, stretching out on the couch, letting his voice roll over you like thick honey.

“You talkin’ real reckless, Mr. Terrance,” you teased, biting your lip. “What makes you think you gettin’ all this good good so easy?”

A deep, knowing chuckle rumbled through the receiver, sending shivers down your spine. “Baby,” He drawled, voice rich and slow like he was savoring every syllable. “Don’t play wit’ me. You and I both know the second I touch down, I’ma have you laid out for me, just how I like it.”

“Oh yeah?” Your thighs pressed together at the promise in his tone.

“Hell yeah. First thing I’m doin’ is spreadin’ them thighs, makin’ up for lost time. You know I been starvin’ for you. Ain’t had a taste of sweet pussy in years. I need my plate, ma.” He stated, making your breath hitch and heat coil in your lower belly. 

“Terry…” You breathed, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Say my name just like that when I’m between them legs,” He murmured. “Matter fact, scream it. I’ma put my mouth on every inch of you. Them thighs? Mine. Them hips? Mine. That spot you say makes you weak right under your belly button? I’m kissin’ it first. And you already know where I’m endin’ up.”

Your body responded to his words instantly, your nipples tightening against the fabric of your blouse. The ache between your thighs grew unbearable. You were so tempted to rub on your clit as he talked to you, but you knew big daddy’s rules. You weren’t allowed to touch yourself at all unless he gave the permission and could listen to you without any interruptions. 

“You talkin’ crazy,” You whispered, your voice thick with need.

“Nah, baby, I’m talkin’ facts. You gon’ see. Soon as I get out, you ain’t leavin’ that bed for at least three days.” He chuckled. 

“Oh, so I’m just gonna be held hostage?” You let out a shaky laugh, your fingers toying with the hem of your skirt.

“Damn right,” He said without hesitation. “Ain’t no way I been locked up this long just to finally get my hands on you and let you go. Shit, you gon’ be beggin’ me to let you breathe.”

Your stomach flipped. You wanted that. Needed that. But then, reality settled back in. The system didn’t make things easy.

“Speaking of that…What did your lawyer say about your release date? Will you be out on my birthday like we want?” You exhaled, shifting the phone closer to your ear. It was silence for a moment. The weight of it pressed heavy between you, thick and uncertain. You held your breath preparing for the worst case scenario possible. 

“They still pushin’ for my original release date, but you know how this shit go. Paperwork, red tape, all that. My lawyer confident, though. He say if everything lines up, I should be out right on time. Maybe even a couple days before.” Terry let out a slow breath.

“For real?” Your chest tightened with cautious hope. 

“For real, baby. But…” He hesitated. “You know they been tryin’ to trip me up in here. COs, some of these jealous-ass inmates. They know I’m close to freedom, and they hate that shit. I gotta keep my head low, stay out the way, but it’s hard sometimes. Real hard.”

“They still on that bullshit?” Your jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” He muttered. “They hate a nigga like me gettin’ a second chance. And these lame ass inmates tryna set me up don’t help either.”

“Terry, I swear to God if they—”You closed your eyes, frustration bubbling inside you.

“Relax, mama,” He said, voice dropping into that deep, soothing register that always made you weak. “Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ me from comin’ home to you. I promise you that. I done made it through too much to let these motherfuckers take my freedom again.”

“Baby, please promise me you won’t do nothin’ to mess this up. I need you here. I need you home.” You frowned, Terry remained silent allowing you to vent because he knew this was becoming harder everyday for you to cope with. You swallowed hard, throat tight.

“I just…” You hesitated, then admitted softly, “I just need you here. I don’t want anything messin’ this up. My 28th birthday… Terry, all I want is you.”

“I know, ma. Trust me, I know.” His voice softened, turning serious. “You the only thing keepin’ me sane in here. The only thing keepin’ me goin’. I promise you, I ain’t lettin’ nothin’ get in the way of me comin’ home to you.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “I trust you.” You inhaled deeply, letting his words settle over you. 

“You got me for life baby,” He said assuring you, voice thick with emotion. “I swear to you, baby. If I gotta fight every damn day until that judge signs my release, I’ma do it. ‘Cause you worth it. We worth it.”

“You better mean that,” You whispered. Tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them away.

“I do. And when I’m finally out, when I got you in my arms, I’ma make sure you never question that again.”

“I love you so much.” You exhaled shakily.

“I love you more, baby.” He bit his lip, feeling his heart speed up. 

“You swear you gonna come home to me, Terry?” You exhaled, stretching your legs out on the couch, your free hand absently trailing over your bare thigh. 

“Baby, listen to me.” His voice came through the receiver, deep and unwavering. “I need you to hear me when I say this. Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ me from comin’ home to you. I done wasted enough years locked up, dreamin’ about what it feel like to be free, to wake up next to a woman who actually give a damn about me. I ain’t lettin’ no CO, no hating-ass inmate, no system take that from me.”

You closed your eyes, soaking in his words. A small tear escaped your eyes as you just let him talk and calm all of your fears. 

“And you really think I’m about to let you be out here spendin’ another birthday without me? Nah, ma. That ain’t happenin’.” He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through your chest. “Matter fact, you should start gettin’ ready now, ‘cause soon as I step through that door, I’m givin’ you somethin’ to celebrate.”

“Oh yeah? What you givin’ me, Terry?” A slow smile spread across your lips. 

“Ain’t it obvious? My last name, first of all.” He stated matter of factly. 

“Boy, stop playin’.” Your breath caught in your throat.

“Who playin’?” He challenged. “You really think I been doin’ all this talkin’, dreamin’ about you, makin’ plans, just to be out here on some casual shit? Nah, baby. You my woman. And when I get home, I’m puttin’ a ring on that pretty lil’ finger. You ain’t gon’ be nobody else’s but mine.”

Heat spread through your chest, settling deep in your belly. He always had a way of making you feel claimed, but this? This was different. This felt all too real and that he was promising you the moon and the stars and would actually reach up in the damn sky and get it for you. 

“Terry…” You purred slightly. 

“Say it again,” He murmured, voice dropping to that low, dangerous octave that always did something to you. “Say my name just like that.”

“Terry.” Your lips parted, slowing your words down for him. 

“Mmm,” He groaned. “That’s what I wanna hear every morning, every night. That’s what I wanna hear when I’m makin’ love to you, when I’m in it so deep you forget how to say anything else.”

“You tryna kill me, huh?” You sucked in a breath, your thighs pressing together instinctively. 

“Nah, ma. Just tryna remind you who you belong to.” He smirked, licking his lips. 

You chewed your lip, heart pounding against your ribs. The thought of him finally being here, of feeling him, touching him, owning him in the flesh—it was almost too much.

“Terry…” You started, voice soft, hesitant.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He adjusted the phone on his ear, eyebrows furrowing. You hesitated a moment afraid to tell him what’s really been on your mind. Afraid he wouldn’t understand but truth was Terry was more than understanding when it came to you. 

“I just… I keep thinking about what’s gonna happen once you’re really here. Like, when it’s not just phone calls and emails. When it’s real. When it’s us.” You honestly confessed, sighing. You heard a brief pause making your stomach tighten out of angst. You held your breath afraid he’d be upset but after a few seconds, he then spoke gently. 

”That’s what you scared of?” He asked, voice soft. 

You swallowed. “Not scared, just… it’s gonna be different. You been inside since you were 18, Terry. That’s—” You did the math in your head, stomach twisting. “Seventeen years. That’s a long time.”

“I know,” He said simply. “You think I don’t know that? Every damn day, I been countin’ down to this moment. I know it’s gon’ be an adjustment. I ain’t naive to that, baby. But what I do know is that I want this. You. I ain’t spent two years fallin’ in love with you for nothin’. And I damn sure ain’t finna let somethin’ as small as a transition period shake me.”

You exhaled, nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “I just want you to be happy, Terry.”

“I am happy, ma. You make me happy.” He professed from his heart, making your heart squeeze and stomach flutter. 

“Now,” He continued, voice laced with that familiar hunger. “Can we get back to what I was sayin’? ‘Cause I still got a whole list of things I plan to do to you soon as I get out.”

“Oh yeah? Go ‘head then, baby. I’m listenin’.” Your stomach flipped.

Terry exhaled through the receiver, the sound slow and deliberate. “Aight, so… First thing I’m doin’ soon as I step through that door? I’m droppin’ my bag, pullin’ you close, and kissin’ you like I been starvin’ for it.”

“Mmmm.” You bit your lip, already picturing the scene.

“Ain’t gon’ be no soft, sweet shit neither. Nah,” He rumbled. “I’m talkin’ about deep, wet, tongue all in your mouth, my hands locked around that waist, pullin’ you so tight you feel my dick pressin’ up against you.”

“Damn, Big Daddy. Can I at least take my heels off first?” You let out a breathy laugh.

“Hell nah,” He said smoothly. “Matter fact, leave ‘em on. I want you just like that. Fresh off work, tight lil’ skirt ridin’ up, them pretty ass legs wrapped ‘round my waist while I pin you up against the door.”

“Oh shit..” Your entire body heated at the image. You had to fan yourself, and cross your legs to avoid any wetness seeping out. 

“You know how long I been dreamin’ about that, baby?” His voice dropped an octave, turning into something dark, possessive. “Seventeen years. Seventeen years I been locked in this hellhole, surrounded by nothin’ but concrete and steel, knowin’ I ain’t got a real woman to touch, to taste, to claim. And then you came along…”

“B-Baby..” A soft gasp slipped from your lips. You squeezed your thighs shut tighter, already soaking your panties. 

“And now all I can think about is how you gon’ feel underneath me. How soft your skin is. How good you smell. How sweet you taste.” He growled lowly in your ear. 

“Shit.” You cursed, shifting on the couch, thighs pressing together.

“Mmm,” He hummed knowingly. “You wet for me, ain’t you?”

“Terry—” You swallowed.

“Nah, don’t try to play it off now,” He interrupted. “I know you, ma. I know you sittin’ there, grippin’ that phone tight, breathin’ all heavy, body heatin’ up just listenin’ to me talk. I don’t even need to be there to know how bad you want me.”

“You lucky you locked up.” You let out a shaky breath, tilting your head back against the couch. 

“Lucky? Nah, baby. Unlucky. ‘Cause if I was home right now, I’d have you laid out, ass up, back arched, moanin’ my name so loud the neighbors call the cops.”He chuckled, voice dripping with amusement.

“Boy, stop!” You laughed, shaking your head. “You talk all that shit, I hope you got the stamina to back it up.”

Terry clicked his tongue. “Oh, you doubtin’ me? That’s crazy. Lemme find out my baby think I ain’t gon’ put in work.”

“I mean, it has been a long time, Big Papa,” You teased.

“Aight,” He drawled, tone dangerous. “Keep playin’ with me. You gon’ be beggin’ me to let you breathe when I’m done with you.”

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, so smooth and confident like he had zero doubt in his ability to back up every single word. The next few hours passed in a blur, the two of you tangled in conversation like it was your own little world. Terry told you about the meals he was craving—real food, not that processed mess they served on metal trays. He wanted collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, fried chicken, all made by you. “I need a home-cooked meal, baby. Something made with love,” He said, his voice full of longing. You laughed and promised to have a whole spread waiting for him. Then the conversation shifted to the small things—how he couldn’t wait to sleep in a real bed, how he wanted to go outside at night just to feel the wind on his face without fences in the way, how he wanted to sit on the couch with you and watch a movie with your legs draped over his lap. “Shit like that, ma,” He murmured. “The simple stuff. That’s what I miss the most.”

And you listened, hanging onto his every word, feeling your heart swell with each confession. The world had taken so much from him, stripped him of so many years, but somehow, he still had softness in him. He still had love to give. You found yourself telling him about all the things you wanted to do together, too—how you wanted to take him out to eat at a real restaurant, go on a drive late at night just because, lay up with him on a Sunday morning while the smell of breakfast filled the apartment. The more you talked, the more the reality of him coming home settled deep inside you. “You really gon’ take care of me, huh?” he asked, his voice low and full of something tender. “You damn right,” you whispered. “Somebody gotta make up for all that time you lost.”

If someone had told you years ago that you’d fall in love with a man behind bars, you would’ve laughed in their face. You always wanted love, prayed for it even, but you never imagined it would come in the form of Terry Richmond—a man with a past heavier than most, a man who had seen the worst parts of life and still found a way to hold onto his soul. He was the most fascinating, most alluring man you’d ever known, and you had never been more open with anyone in your life. You craved him in ways that scared you sometimes. You wanted to be the one to feed him, to run him a hot bath and wash years of struggle off his skin. You wanted to rub his shoulders, his chest, his back, to remind him that he was human, that he was home. And the way he talked to you, the way he poured into you, made you feel like you were already his sanctuary.

After you finally got off the phone, you moved into your nighttime routine, taking your time washing your face, patting your skin dry, smoothing your serums in like a ritual. You stared at yourself in the mirror, thinking about how your life was about to change. In just a few days, he’d be here, in your space, in your bed, in your life outside of those prison walls. As you reached for your bonnet and wrapped it securely around your head, your phone buzzed on the counter. FaceTime. Mama. You sighed, knowing she’d scold you if you didn’t answer, so you slid your thumb across the screen and propped the phone up.

“Hey, Mama,” You greeted, already bracing yourself.

“Hey, baby,” She said, peering at you through the screen. “Just callin’ to say goodnight and check on you before you went to bed.”  

“I’m alright , Mama. Just gettin’ ready for bed. Doing my usual routine.” You smiled. 

“Mm-hmm,” She hummed, then her face lit up. “Oh! Guess who I ran into today? You remember Kiana Perkins from high school?”

You frowned, digging through your memory. “Kiana Perkins… oh yeah, the one who used to run track?”

“Yes, her! Baby, she married now, got two babies, livin’ all happy with her husband. She showed me pictures and everything. And I just… I don’t know, baby, it got me thinkin’.” She started in on you. 

“Mama—” You groaned internally.

She held up a hand. “I know what you ‘bout to say, but hear me out. You not gettin’ any younger, baby. I just want you to have somebody. You always been my dumplin’, my soft-hearted baby, and I just—” She sighed. “I just want you to be loved, baby. I want somebody to take care of you for once.”

You bit your lip, heart squeezing at her words, but she didn’t know. She didn’t know that you did have somebody. That you had Terry. That soon, you wouldn’t be coming home to an empty bed anymore. You leaned back against the bathroom counter, swallowing the lump in your throat as your mother continued, her voice full of concern. 

“You know, I just don’t want you to end up like me, raising a family all on your own. You’ve got so much to offer, baby, don’t let it go to waste.” She paused, waiting for you to respond, but you were caught in a whirlwind of emotions. You wanted to tell her the truth, but you couldn’t—not yet. Terry was still behind those walls, and the world wasn’t ready for your truth. Not yet.

“I hear you, Mama,” You said softly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “But I’m good. I’m happy with how things are right now.”

She eyed you, her brow furrowing, but she didn’t push it. “Alright,” she finally said, her tone softening. “Just don’t wait too long, baby. Time don’t wait for nobody.”

“I won’t, Mama. Promise,” You replied, though you knew the promise wasn’t to her. It was to yourself. You weren’t going to waste any more time. The conversation moved on, and you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for not telling her about Terry. She didn’t know that every night, you fell asleep with thoughts of him, that his voice had become the lullaby you never knew you needed. You thought about his touch, his words, the way he made you feel like you were the only woman in the world. But for now, it was a secret. Your secret. You wrapped up the call with your mother, promising to be at Sunday dinner over the weekend, and hung up. The air felt thick now, like the weight of your own desires had settled in your chest. You finished getting ready for bed, your mind racing with thoughts of Terry, wondering if he was thinking about you too, wondering how much longer you’d have to wait before he was finally home. As you slipped under the

covers, your mind drifted to your happy place and that was Terry. Eventually after saying a quick silent prayer for him and his safety like you did every night, you finally went to sleep. 

The morning light seeped through the blinds, casting long golden streaks across your bedroom. You lay there for a moment, tangled in your silk sheets, staring at the ceiling with a heavy mind. The anticipation sat on your chest like a weight. Today could be the day you got answers—real answers—about Terry’s release. No more guesswork, no more waiting in limbo. Either he’d be home in time for your birthday, or he wouldn’t. And if it was up to you, there wouldn’t be a wouldn’t. Your phone vibrated on the nightstand, shaking you from your thoughts. The number was unfamiliar, but you knew who it had to be before you even swiped to answer.

“Hello?” Your voice was groggy, thick with sleep, but there was an urgency beneath it.

“Good morning, this is Michael Walker, Terry Richmond’s attorney.” The voice on the other end was smooth, professional, but you caught that slight edge—like he was bracing himself for a conversation you might not want to have. “I wanted to give you an update on his case. Do you have a moment?”

“Of course. What’s the update?” You pushed yourself upright, resting your back against the headboard.

Michael exhaled. “So here’s where we are. We’re still waiting on the judge’s final decision regarding his release. As you know, we’ve been pushing hard for full release instead of parole, but the system moves at its own pace. Right now, it’s looking like one of two things will happen—either the judge will sign off on his release, and he’ll be free to come home, or he’ll be granted parole with conditions.”

Your stomach twisted at the word “conditions.” That could mean anything. A curfew. Mandatory check-ins. Restrictions on where he could go, what he could do. You wanted Terry free—not still tangled in the system’s web.

“Is there a chance he’ll be home by my birthday?” You asked, your voice smaller than you intended.

Michael hesitated. That damn hesitation. You hated it. “That’s what we’re aiming for,” He said finally. “But it’s all in the judge’s hands. We’re doing everything we can to make it happen, but we need to be realistic.”

Your fingers tightened around the phone. “I just… I need him home.” The words left you before you could stop them, more vulnerable than you wanted to sound.

“I get it,” Michael said, and for the first time, there was something softer in his tone. “But here’s the thing—you need to make sure Terry understands how important it is for him to stay in line right now. He’s close. So damn close. But if he gets into it with the COs, if he so much as breathes wrong in there, it could delay everything. Or worse.”

A lump formed in your throat. Terry had been through hell in that prison. You knew how hard it was for him to bite his tongue, to play the game when the guards disrespected him just for breathing. You also knew how much some of those inmates hated to see another Black man about to touch freedom. Envy was a dangerous thing.

“I’ll talk to him,” You said firmly. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

“Good,” Michael replied. “I’ll keep you posted on any updates. Until then, just keep him focused on what’s waiting for him on the outside.”

And that’s exactly what you planned to do. Because he was coming home. To you. To the life y’all had spent two years dreaming up. And you weren’t about to let anything or anyone take that away. The weight of everything that needed to be done before Terry came home sat on your shoulders like a mix of excitement and pressure. There was so much to prepare, so much to buy, so much to perfect before your man walked through that door and took his rightful place in your life. Clothes, toiletries, shoes, cologne—he was stepping into a world he hadn’t been a part of since he was barely legal, and you were determined to make sure he had everything he needed to start fresh. And then there was you. Your own upkeep was just as important. You wanted to look good good for him. A fresh Brazilian wax so your skin was baby smooth, eyebrows snatched, lashes full and fluttery, and your hair? Oh, that had to be flawless—not just for your birthday but because you already knew he was going to have it all over the place by the end of the night. You could already hear the headboard knocking, already feel his breath on your skin, already picture the way he’d grip you like he was making up for lost time. The thought alone made your stomach tighten with anticipation.

But beyond all the surface-level preparation, there was a deeper feeling swirling inside you. Letting a man you’d only seen through a screen and heard through a receiver move into your home was a huge step. Some would call it crazy. Hell, a part of you knew it was risky, but love had never been about playing it safe. And with Terry? It had never felt like a risk. It felt right. He was your soulmate—plain and simple. The man you wanted to

wake up to, fall asleep with, build a family with. You’d spent two years loving him from a distance, and now, you were stepping into a reality where he was yours in every way. You weren’t naive to the adjustments that would come with it, but you also weren’t afraid. He was worth it.

With a stretch and a soft sigh, you finally pulled yourself out of bed, the silk of your nightgown clinging to your curves as you padded across your bedroom. It barely covered your ass, the hem rising with each step, and you lazily reached for your robe, wrapping it around you before making your way into the kitchen. The house was still, quiet, but soon, it would be filled with his presence. Him walking around shirtless, his deep voice filling up every room, his scent lingering on the furniture. You couldn’t wait. As you reached for the fridge, your eyes landed on the Polaroid photo of him taped to the door���one of the few glimpses of him outside of a call or a video chat. He had sent it during one of the rare inmate photo days, his expression serious but his eyes still burning with something that made your stomach flip. Damn, you fine. You ran a finger over the image, smiling to yourself before pulling out the eggs and milk.

The one thing people probably wouldn’t understand was why you had never visited him in prison. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. God knew you had begged to. But Terry? Terry was territorial to his core. It had taken months of back-and-forth, of pleading and arguing, before you finally accepted that he wasn’t going to let you step foot in that visiting room. He didn’t want no prison guards or inmates looking at his woman—studying you, lusting after you, imagining things about you that only he was allowed to. You belonged to him, and the thought of other men—especially those locked up with him—laying their eyes on you sent him into a rage he didn’t even try to hide. It wasn’t just possessiveness; it was protection. He had seen too many things go left in that place, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be a part of any of it. So, you let it go, trusting that the day would come when you wouldn’t have to love him from a distance. That day was almost here.

You were in the middle of whisking the batter for your waffles when your phone vibrated on the counter. Without hesitation, you snatched it up, already knowing who it was.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Terry’s deep, raspy voice sent a warmth down your spine. His morning voice was dangerous.

“Mmm, good morning, baby,” You hummed, tucking the phone between your ear and shoulder as you continued mixing. “How’d you sleep?”

“Would’ve slept better with you underneath me,” He murmured, the smirk in his tone evident. “What my baby got planned for today?”

You bit your lip, smiling. “Just a quick Target and BJ’s run to stock the house up for you, then I gotta get my nails done. Oh, and I gotta swing by the post office to pick up my bundles that came in.”

He chuckled, low and knowing. “Mmm, you tryna get fine for Big Daddy?”

“Mmhmm.” You giggled, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you.

“Damn, girl…” His voice dropped a little lower, and you could almost see him licking his lips on the other end. “Ima eat that pussy like crazy, baby girl.”

Your breath hitched, a heat sparking between your thighs. “Terry!” You squealed, laughing. “Stop being nasty!”

“Nah, I’m deadass serious.” His tone was dark, full of hunger. “You don’t even know what you got coming.”

You took a steadying breath, trying to shake off the goosebumps crawling up your skin. “Listen, nasty man, we need to talk.” Your tone shifted, getting serious. “Your attorney called me this morning. We need to discuss what he told me.”

“What he say?” There was a pause before he answered with a serious tone. 

You exhaled. “Baby…” You gripped the phone tighter, staring at the batter as if it had the answers. “It’s about your release.”

Terry was silent for a moment, and you could feel the shift in his energy through the phone. That easy, teasing tone from before was gone, replaced by something heavier—something cautious.

“What about it?” His voice was lower now, tight with restraint.

You sighed, setting the whisk down and gripping the edge of the counter. “He said they’re still waiting on the judge to sign off, and it could go either way. Either parole or full release.” You paused, running your tongue over your lips. “I asked if you’d be home by my birthday, and he said that’s what they’re pushing for, but the judge has to approve it first and it appears the judge is taking their sweet ass time. Same shit you told me last night.” 

“Man… I been waiting years for this moment. If they try to stall this shit…” Terry sucked his teeth, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“Baby, don’t even put that energy in the air,” You cut in quickly, gripping the phone. “It’s gonna happen. You just gotta hold tight.”

“I’m tryna hold tight, ma, but you don’t understand. I been locked down since I was eighteen. Half my life. I done played by they rules, kept my nose clean, did everything I was supposed to do. And now, when it’s finally my time to touch down, they wanna drag they feet?” His frustration was raw, and you didn’t blame him one bit.

“That’s why we gotta be smart about this,” You soothed, lowering your voice. “Your attorney said you need to walk a fine line, Terry. These COs and some of them inmates? They don’t want to see you win, baby. You getting out means they lose power over you. And if you let ‘em get under your skin, if you give them any reason to stall this—”

“I know, baby,” He gritted, cutting you off. “I ain’t stupid.”

“I never said you were,” You softened, biting your lip. “But you know they’ll do anything to keep a black man locked up. You know that. You can’t afford to slip.”

Another deep sigh. “I just wanna be with you, ma,” He admitted, his voice quieter now, the vulnerability cutting through all the frustration. “That’s all I been holding on to. You. Us. The life we ‘bout to have.”

“And you will be with me, Terry. Soon. I promise.” Your heart clenched, and you closed your eyes for a second.

“You the only thing keeping me sane right now, baby,” He muttered. “You really are.”

“And you the only man I want. Ain’t nothing gon’ change that.” You swallowed hard, that warmth creeping back into your chest.

He went quiet for a beat, then, “Damn, you really love me, huh?”

“Boy, you already know.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Say it,” He murmured.

“I love you, Terrance Richmond.” You bit your lip, smiling. 

A deep exhale came through the line, like those words alone were enough to ground him. “I love you too, ma. More than you even know.”

“You better love me with your fine self.” You giggled, continuing to whisk the batter. He chuckled lowly, the sound making your ears perk up at the nostalgic sound.

“You know I want a baby soon as possible, right? Just like we talked about.” Terry’s voice dipped even lower, that familiar edge of possession curling around his words. 

“I know, baby.” You bit your lip, warmth spreading through your belly at the certainty in his tone.

“Nah,” He pressed. “I mean, soon as I get home, I’m filling you up. I ain’t playing.”

A giggle bubbled out of you. “Well, that’s good to know,”  You teased, twisting a strand of hair between your fingers. “Because I already got off my birth control, and I’m ovulating real soon.”

Silence. Then a sharp inhale from Terry. “You serious?”

“Mmhmm.” A smirk played on your lips 

“Good,” He growled. “‘Cause I ain’t pulling out. I want you pregnant, mama. You carrying my son or my baby girl. I already see it.”

A deep shudder rolled through you at the sheer conviction in his voice. There was no hesitation, no doubt—he wanted this, just like you did. Now you knew having a baby before a ring wasn’t the most conventional thing. You were raised better than that, taught that marriage first was the way to go, that being someone’s “baby mama” wasn’t the move. But Terry? He wasn’t that type of man. This wasn’t some half-thought-out, heat-of-the-moment decision. You knew exactly what you were signing up for. From the moment you told him you wanted his baby, he made it crystal clear—both you and that child would have his last name. There would be no question, no hesitation. You weren’t about to be just someone’s BM. You were his woman, his future wife.

The plan was already in motion—soon as he got out, y’all were hitting the courthouse and making it official. No long engagement, no drawn-out wedding planning stress. He wanted to be your husband immediately. And once he was settled, once he was back on his feet, working and bringing in real money, then he’d give you that big wedding, the

one with the flowers, the dress, the family all gathered to watch you walk down the aisle. But for now? The paper, the commitment, you—that’s what mattered most to him.

It wasn’t like you weren’t set up already. You made damn good money, and your degree in business administration had you sitting pretty in a high-paying corporate consulting job, helping multi-million-dollar firms streamline their operations. Your salary was more than enough to hold things down while Terry got back on his feet, and you’d already mapped out a business plan to help him reintegrate. Finding a job after doing seventeen years inside wasn’t easy, but you had resources, connections, a plan. You weren’t just bringing him home—you were making sure he stayed home. You were building a life with this man, and every step of it felt right.

“You think your family gon’ like me?” Terry exhaled through the phone, his deep voice softening just a little. Your smile, bright and easy just seconds ago, slowly faded. It was a fair question. A real one. But it wasn’t an easy one to answer. You knew your mama. Sweet, nurturing, and warm when she wanted to be, but judgmental as hell. A devout Christian woman—saved, sanctified, and filled with the Holy Ghost. She wasn’t fond of anything remotely sinful, and Terry… well, Terry was the walking definition of sinful.

There was no denying he was a fine-ass man. That wasn’t the issue. Standing tall at 6’3”, with those piercing hazel eyes that seemed to shift between ocean-gray and a stormy blue-green depending on the light. Rich, light caramel skin that deepened into a golden bronze in the summer but softened into a fairer hue in the colder months. A strong, chiseled jawline that made him look both dangerous and regal. His lips? Plump, full, always looking like they were ready to be kissed—or used for something far nastier. His short-cropped curly fro was just long enough to grab, and those thick, corded muscles? Yeah. His time behind bars didn’t just sculpt his body—it turned him into a damn statue, cut from flesh instead of marble. His tattoos, inked along his thick arms, added to his edge. Especially that sleeve—his latest one, a masterpiece he got done while inside.

He was the kind of man that turned heads when he walked into a room. The kind that made women cross their legs and bite their lip. But he wasn’t the “good, God-fearing man” your mother had envisioned for you. Terry was the complete opposite. And yet, his heart was the purest thing about him. Despite his past, despite the anger and the hurt buried deep in his soul, he was a good man. A gentle soul trapped in an exterior so hard, so intimidating, most people never got to see the real him.

You inhaled sharply, trying to find the right words. “Baby, I gotta be honest with you.”

“Mmhmm?” His voice was calm. 

You sighed. “I don’t know. My mama… she can be a bit much. And the fact that I’ve been hiding this—hiding us—for the past two years? Oh, she gon’ have a fit. And my sister? Whew, she gon’ have a mouth full too. You’d probably have better luck with my aunties than my own mama.”

Terry chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made your stomach flutter. “I get it, baby. I do.” His voice was soft, understanding. “But I ain’t going nowhere. She can side-eye me, throw oil on me, pray over me ‘til she blue in the face—I’m still gon’ be here. And I’ma do whatever I can to make her love me. To make her see I ain’t some monster. ‘Cause I want this, ma. I want us. I want your family to be my family, too.”

That made you smile. A big one. The kind that deepened your dimples and warmed you from the inside out. But there was something else weighing on you. Something heavy. Something you knew Terry wouldn’t want to talk about, but you had to ask.

You hesitated before carefully pushing forward. “Baby… you gon’ reach out to your mama once you’re free?”

“Nah, Y/N. I’m not.” He answered, his voice, tight and clipped. 

You swallowed. “Baby—”

“Ain’t like she gave a fuck about me in the first place,” he cut you off, his voice colder now. “I’m in here ‘cause of her. You know that.”

“I know. I do. But, baby… you gotta forgive. Not for her. For you. You need peace, Terry. You deserve that.” You exhaled slowly. His breathing was heavier now, like he was trying to keep himself from slipping into that dark place. You hated when he went there. When the bitterness and resentment started to eat away at him.

“I got peace, baby. I got you.” His voice softened just a little, but you could still hear the hurt beneath it. “That’s all I need.”

“I hear you baby.” You softly replied. You decided to respect his wishes and let the conversation about his mother rest. He had been through enough, and you weren’t about to push him into something he wasn’t ready for. Instead, you brightened up, shifting the energy as you let out a little squeal.

“Oh! Baby, my birthday dress came!” You announced excitedly, twirling a loose curl around your finger. “I can’t wait for you to see me in it.”

Terry’s smirk was damn near audible through the phone. “Oh yeah?” His voice dropped an octave, turning rich and smooth like warm honey. “That’s cool, baby… ‘cause I can’t wait to take that shit off you.”

“It is literally nine in the morning, and you already on go.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Because I got this pretty, brown-eyed woman waiting on me,” He murmured. “And I can’t stop staring at her picture, picturing our life together beyond these walls. I just need my woman bad.” He let out a breath, voice thick with longing. “I wanna turn your body inside out, have you laid up exhausted, and then make you breakfast in the morning while you recover, boo.”

“Leave the cooking to me, Richmond. Don’t need you burning our house up.” You smirked, scratching your head. You hadn’t even realized you said it like that—our house—until the words left your lips. But Terry caught it instantly. His heart swelled, warmth spreading through his chest like wildfire.

“Our,” He repeated, grinning through the phone. “I like the sound of that. And don’t worry, baby. I could never destroy anything of ours.” His words settled over you like a warm embrace, making your stomach flutter.

Terry cleared his throat after a beat. “So, your girls still takin’ you out for your birthday?”

“Mmhmm,” You confirmed, stretching lazily. “We’re hitting this grown and sexy lounge. Got a section, a table, should be real nice. I just wanted something low-key. Nothing too crazy.”

Terry hummed in approval. “That’s what’s up. You think your girls gon’ accept me?”

You snorted. “They’re gonna love you. Especially Deja. Sonya, though… she might take a minute. She’s Miss Fake Bougie, swearing she a real housewife of Atlanta. But deep down, she’s chill. Just real protective of me.”

Terry let out a low chuckle. “Aight, sounds like a plan, baby girl. Long as they ain’t plotting to run me off, we cool.”

“Never that.” You smiled, resting your chin in your hand, leaning on the countertop.

“Mm. Aight, tell me this, then—what’s the first meal I’m getting when I come home?” He inquired, with a devious smirk. 

“Well, I was thinking… me.” Your voice became real seductive, tilting your head. 

Terry’s laughter rumbled through the phone, low and sinful. “Ain’t no thinking, that’s a guarantee. But just to be safe, cook us something for after, ‘cause we gon’ need the strength.”

“Terry, you so damn silly.” You burst out laughing, shaking your head at him.

“You love it,” He teased, and he wasn’t wrong. Because behind all that reserved, stoic energy, Terry Richmond was a damn goofball at heart. And he was your goofball. The conversation between you and Terry continued, the two of you just vibing, killing time before you had to finally pull yourself away and get in the shower. He told you about a wild dream he had last night—some crazy mix of old memories and future fantasies of the two of you together.

“Man, I swear, I had the realest dream, baby,” He said, voice lazy and deep. “We was laid up in this big-ass house, had the baby in the crib next to us… you was wearin’ my T-shirt, lookin’ all sexy with your lil’ bonnet on, and I just kept pullin’ you closer, not even tryna let you sleep.”

“So you gon’ keep me up even in your dreams?” You laughed, rolling onto your side, twirling the bedsheets between your fingers. 

“Hell yeah,” He said without hesitation. “I been starvin’, baby. Soon as I touch down, I’m eatin’ you up, kissin’ on you, makin’ love to you every chance I get. You gon’ be sick of me.”

“Never that daddy,” You murmured, feeling warmth spread through your body at just the thought of how it would feel to finally have him home.

“Bet,” He chuckled, then let out a deep sigh. “I just be sittin’ in this cell picturing it, picturing us—you in the tub, all soaped up, candles lit, slow jams playin’… me right behind you, holdin’ you close, runnin’ my hands all over that soft ass skin, kissing up your neck… licking on your nipples..”

Your breath hitched, already envisioning the exact same thing. You had put together a playlist for his arrival—nothing but the smoothest 90s and early 2000s R&B, songs that made you wanna melt into somebody’s arms.

“You wanna know what I was thinking about?” You asked, biting your lip.

“What, baby?”  He feigned innocence.

“How you gon’ be sneakin’ into the shower while I’m tryna get ready for work,” you giggled. “Talkin’ about, ‘lemme wake you up the right way’—like I don’t have places to be!”

Terry laughed but then hummed in approval. “Shit, I am waking you up the right way. Gon’ have you walkin’ into work with a smile so big, they gon’ know somebody put it there.”

Your stomach flipped at the thought, heat rising to your cheeks. You were so gone for this man. “You just wait, Richmond,”You teased, sighing dramatically. “You about to be a full-time distraction.”

“That’s my plan, baby.” He grinned through the phone. 

After a few more minutes of sweet talk, you finally sighed. “Alright, I need to get in the shower before I lay here and talk to you all day.”

“I ain’t stoppin’ you,” Terry teased. “I just wanna hear the water runnin’. Let me close my eyes and imagine it.”

“Boy, bye!” You laughed, shaking your head before reluctantly hanging up.

—

The hot water cascaded over your skin as you leaned against the shower wall, letting the warmth soak into your muscles. Your mind was racing with all the intimate moments you’d been daydreaming about since Terry’s release date became a real possibility. Late nights soaking in the tub together, his strong arms wrapped around you, his lips trailing along your shoulder. Waking up to him pulling you into his body, whispering in your ear before making love to you first thing in the morning. The idea of sharing a home, a bed, a life with him made your stomach flip with anticipation. You had been living alone for so long, moving on your own schedule, answering to no one. But now, there would be him. His things mixed with yours, his scent lingering in your sheets, his presence filling the empty spaces. And you couldn’t wait.

Once you finished luxuriating, you stepped out, wrapping yourself in a plush towel. You took your time getting dressed—pulling on a pair of black leggings that hugged your curves and a Nike sports bra, slipping into your most comfortable sneakers. You tied your hair into a sleek bun, then grabbed a baseball cap to shield your eyes from the Georgia sun. After grabbing your Louis Vuitton Speedy 30, you were just about to head out the door when your phone rang and you saw it was Sonya.

You sighed before answering, already bracing yourself. “What’s up, girl?”

“Mm, what you got going on today?” She asked, her tone full of suspicion, like she knew you were up to something.

“Just about to make a quick Target and BJ’s run,” You said casually, hoping she’d just let it go.

“Oh, perfect! I need to hit Target anyway! I’ll meet you there.” She stated. You internally cringed. Sonya didn’t know about Terry yet. And you definitely didn’t need her up in your cart asking a hundred questions about all the men’s products you were grabbing.

“Girl, I’m moving quick today,” You abruptly said, trying to throw her off. “Gotta be in and out, no time for browsing.”

“Please, you never just ‘run in’ anywhere,” Sonya scoffed. “I’ll keep up.”

“Sonya…” You huffed, rubbing your temple. 

“What?” She laughed. “Why you sound so stressed? You tryna move funny or somethin’?”

“You know I move funny, that ain’t new.”You let out a dry laugh. 

“Mhm, and that’s exactly why I’m coming.” She snickered. 

You sighed dramatically, knowing there was no way out of this now. “Fine, I’ll see you there,” You relented, already planning how you were going to strategically avoid letting her see all the things you were picking up for Terry. You hurried up and grabbed your car keys and your Stanley cup from your kitchen counter before heading right out the door to your car. You hit the unlock button on your key fob and heard the chirp. Sliding into the plush leather seat of your Mercedes-Benz, you place your Stanley cup in the cupholder before pressing the push-to-start button. The engine purrs to life, and before you can even adjust the air, the CarPlay screen lights up, immediately blasting the smooth, honeyed vocals of Maxwell’s “Fortunate” through the speakers.

Your heart leaps in excitement. “SING IT, MAXWELL!” You squeal, gripping the steering wheel and swaying your shoulders as if you’re right there on stage with him. 

This is your song. Terry’s song. The one he always sings to you over the phone—completely off-key but with so much passion, like he’s pouring every piece of himself into it. You can still hear him now—“I never sang a song with all my might…”—his deep, rough voice twisting the lyrics into something that sounds nothing like Maxwell, but you never cared. It was him. It was you. It was love. You pull out of the driveway, easing onto the streets of Atlanta, the sun gleaming against the hood of your Benz. The beat of the song wraps around you, filling every inch of the car with warmth. With one hand on the wheel and the other tapping rhythmically against your thigh, you let the city move around you, the skyline stretching high above as you feel the music, feel the love behind every lyric. Terry is coming home. Soon. And as Maxwell’s voice croons through the speakers, you let yourself dream—of slow dances in the living room, of his arms pulling you close as you sway to this very song, of him pressing soft kisses along your shoulder while mumbling the lyrics into your ear.You exhale, your lips curling into a soft, knowing smile. It’s only a matter of time.

Pulling into the Target parking lot, you let out a long, heavy sigh, gripping the wheel as you mentally prepared yourself for Sonya. You loved your girl—no doubt about it. Sonya was one of those ride-or-die friends who would cut up with you on a Saturday night and pray with you on Sunday morning. But she was also the kind of woman who didn’t know the meaning of boundaries. She always had to be up in the mix, tasting the flavor, giving unsolicited advice even when it wasn’t needed. And it wasn’t that you didn’t want to share Terry with your girls—because you did. He was your man, and you were proud of him.

But you wanted to make sure this was real. That this was happening. That he was actually going to be home before you started bragging and boasting about him to your family and friends. You couldn’t count how many times you’d gotten excited about a brotha, only for him to turn out to be a disappointment. And every time, you had to do the walk of shame, explaining to everyone that it didn’t work out. You hated the look of disappointment on your mother’s face, the I told you so smirk on your sister’s lips, and God forbid Sonya’s infamous, “I knew that nigga wasn’t shit.” speeches. And then there was Deja, who always chimed in with, “Girl, want me to get my cousin to kill him?”

You loved your girls, but the last two years had been a sacred kind of peace. You had cultivated this private, intense, deeply intimate relationship with Terry while he was behind bars, and there was something pure about keeping it just between the two of you. You knew that sometimes, outside influence could ruin a good thing, and you weren’t ready to share your world just yet. But if things aligned perfectly—if the odds were in your favor, if the judge signed off, and if God was looking out for you—then they would meet him the night of your birthday outing. You just hoped everything would fall into place. You hopped out of the car, grabbing your Louis Vuitton Speedy 30 from the passenger seat and slinging it over your arm. Just as you shut the door, you spotted Sonya standing near the entrance, her arms crossed, her stance already radiating irritation. You took a deep inhale, bracing yourself, then walked over, greeting her with a quick hug.

“Girl, what’s wrong with you?” You asked, noticing her sour expression.

“Chile, my damn hairstylist just sent me that infamous ‘Hey boo’ text, and I just know it’s about to be some bullshit.” Sonya sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes.

“That’s why I told you to stop going to her, Sonya. She’s unprofessional as hell and always canceling on you at the last minute.” You snorted and shook your head. 

“I know, I know,” She whined dramatically, throwing her hands up. “But girl, she know how to lay my damn wigs. She makes that lace look like scalp! I do not wanna go to nobody else!”

You laughed, grabbing a cart and rolling into the store with her. You weren’t even five steps inside before you gave her a knowing look and smirked. “I don’t even know why you waste your time getting them wigs laid, knowing Omar gon’ pull that shit right off your head and have your lace looking crazy by the end of the night.”

“You ain’t lying, girl. You really ain’t lying.” Sonya stuck her tongue out at you before giggling, clearly thinking about how wild her and her man got. 

You shook your head, laughing as you made your way toward the laundry aisle, grabbing detergent, fabric softener, and some cleaning products. You wanted the house to be

perfect for Terry’s homecoming—fresh sheets, the scent of lavender and vanilla in the air, everything spotless for his arrival.

As you reached for a bottle of Febreze, Sonya nudged you. “So… you excited for your birthday?”

“Yeah… I really am.” You smiled, biting your lip as you nodded. Truth be told you were more excited for Terry’s arrival than your own birthday. For as long as you could remember you weren’t the most excited to celebrate your birthday. To you, it was just another day and another reminder that you were leaving your glorious twenties and getting closer to hitting your dirty thirties. That is until Terry came into your life and shifted your perspective on life itself. He taught you that every birthday should be celebrated and that life is too short to not celebrate the breath in your lungs and waking up everyday. Especially with his circumstances and how his life got snatched from him because he chose to do the right thing and defend his mother’s honor against her abuser, but in the end it wasn’t so honorable and his dreams and young life got cut short with the snap of a finger. So this year you chose to have a better outlook on your birthday, thanks to your baby Terry. 

 You continued to move swiftly through Target, pushing your cart with concentration, mentally checking off everything Terry will need once he’s home. You start with the Dove Men+Care bar soap, grabbing a few packs because you know the fresh, clean scent will suit him. Next is the Old Spice body wash—the deep, rich, masculine fragrance makes you weak in the knees, so you know it’ll be perfect for him. You toss it in the cart, followed by men’s deodorant, mouthwash, and toothpaste—because even though you’ve never stood close enough to breathe him in, you already decided that your man will smell fresh, clean, and irresistible.

You head down the haircare aisle, running your fingers over the different bottles before settling on a moisturizing shampoo and conditioner. You know prison air is dry as hell, and you’re not about to have your man coming home with his hair brittle and neglected. A large jar of Palmer’s whipped cocoa butter goes into the cart next—you love how smooth and rich it feels against your skin, and you can already picture yourself rubbing it into his arms, his shoulders, his hands… making sure he’s soft and well taken care of. Just as you’re reaching for a pack of Dude Wipes, Sonya turns from the next aisle, glancing over at your cart. She tilts her head, her perfectly arched brows raising as she takes in all the men’s products sitting inside.

“Uh-uh. Who’s all this for?” She asks, crossing her arms. Your heart skips a beat.

“Oh!” You force out a laugh, thinking quick. “My sister’s in town with her fiancé, and they’re staying at my mom’s house. She needed some stuff to keep there for him.”

Sonya narrows her eyes for a second, then shrugs. “Oh okay, that makes sense. I was about to say, girl, you got a whole grown man’s starter kit in there.”

You laugh nervously, nodding as you grip the handle of your cart, pushing forward. Just when you think you’re in the clear, your phone buzzes in your purse. You glance down and see the caller ID: Terry’s lawyer. Your stomach instantly tightens. He already called earlier—so why is he calling again?

“Hey, hold on,” You tell Sonya, trying to keep your voice light. “I gotta take this real quick.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you at checkout.” Sonya waves you off, already distracted by something on the next shelf. Stepping out of the aisle, you answer, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You answer, voice low. 

“We’ve got a problem,” His lawyer says, his voice urgent.Your body stiffens.

“What? What happened?” You held your breath. 

“There’s been an incident in the prison yard. Terry was involved.” He deeply sighs. Your heart  plummets straight to your ass because you told this nigga—.

“WHAT?!” You shout, loud enough that people around you turn their heads. You clamp a hand over your mouth, forcing yourself to breathe, to stay calm.

“I’m still gathering details,” His lawyer continues, “ But from what I’m hearing, there was some kind of altercation. If the judge catches wind of this, his release could be revoked… or at the very least, stalled.”

The words ring in your ears, drowning out the noise of the store. Revoked?! Stalled?!Your hands start to tremble on the cart handle, your vision blurring with tears. Just when you thought you were so close to having him home—just when everything was falling into place—here comes some bullshit.

“Please… just tell me he’s okay,” you whisper, your voice cracking. You swallow hard, gripping the phone tighter.

“I really don’t know. I’m working on it. I’ll call you back when I know more.” He sighed again, sounding defeated. Then the line goes dead, making you tear up. You stood frozen in the middle of Target, your world spinning, your stomach in knots. And just like that, everything you had been dreaming of, praying for, feels like it’s slipping right through your fingers.

This couldn't be happening right now, not right now....

@captainwithoutmakingitlove

@naughtynolly-blog

@theglamclosetsl

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@fakxmbj

@solunaseira

@noir-lullaby

@kirayuki22

@blyffe

@planetblaque

@blackchickinthedesert

@megamindsecretlair

@teeresaresa

@kaylaahisthebestest-

@hotebonynearby

@lavaniiii

@cardi-bre91

[malsmind]

more than we thought

a bsf!mat xbsf!reader series by @ 𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹

chapter 1

warnings: swearing, slight flirting

wc: 1.5k

chapter 2

english is not my first language!

unexpectedly, you and matt met on the east coast, where you both lived a few years back, making your first actual and geniuine bond of friendship with the triplets when you were fifteen and they were seventeen. you got along with his brothers, then they inroduced you to matt. it just clicked. the both of you got along instantly, the same interests you shared along with your and matts mental health, dealing with similar problems just made you feel understood, and he felt the same.

who would have thought that about four years later, you guys would share a bond thats even stronger, a friendship that you'd never want to lose.

creating content on the internet, making youtube videos.. it was a job that wasn't your cup of tea, but your closest friends loved it. you always supported them, every step of the way til this day, you were happy for them, it made you happy to see them so happy about it.

even when in 2022, when you were seventeen, and they were nineteen, they moved to Los Angeles.

they came to visit, obviously because of their family and friends. it was weird at first, not hanging out with them during the summer, not getting to go for late night drives with matt when school was draining you again, but it wasn't the worst. you knew you'd join them soon after you graduated, that's how you always planned it to be. when that day finally came, you were beyond excited, and so were nick, matt and chris. eventually, you did find your passion in making content on social media. not fully commited to it, but you still did your occaisonal little vlog, posted tiktoks, instagram dumps and appeared on your friends youtube channel every now and then. it was safe to say, you were happy in life. highschool sucked for you, you had friends, sure, but none that you'd actually feel happy around. no real friends, no friends that'd actually have you feeling like you had someone you could trust, laugh with, share memories with. so moving to LA to where your real friends were, getting your first own apartment, growing independent felt like a dream come true.

you were currently sat on matt's bed, looking for some decoration and furniture for your apartment. you moved in almost a year ago but you didn't get the chance to fully furnish and decorate your apartment yet. decisions on what you want and the various options making it harder than it needed to be.

"i can't find a good coffee table. they all just look the same." you sighed, throwing your phone aside and flopping down into matt's pile of pillows.

he turned around from where he was sat at his desk, playing fortnite with chris, taking a look at your phone display layed out with pictures of coffee tables. they indeed all looked the same. "well, you got any idea what you want specifically?" matt asked you, turning back around to face is screen. "anything that doesn't look like those right there. they look too modern and it's just not for me." you picked up your phone again, trying your luck on facebook marketplace, vinted, and other second hand places. vintage was always your way to go. the aesthetic fitting your personality just right. at the end of the day, your apartment was like your safe space, so your goal was to make it look cozy and feel like it too.

noticing you were now back into focusing on your deep dive on furniture, matt didn't say anything more. you scrolled for what felt like ages until you finally found your dream coffee table for your living room, a perfect match for the couch you had bought two months ago. you apbrubtly got up from matt's bed, holding your phone for him to look at your find. "oh my god. tell me this isn't the most PERFECT coffee table you've ever seen" matt turned his head, shoving his headset off on one side to be able to pay you more attention, his eyes squiting at the picture in front of him. "how much is that?"

"$200" you smiled, happy with your find.

"$200 for that old thing??" matt frowned at you as if trying to ask you if you were seriously going to spend that much money on it. "it's a fair price, dude." you returned his expression, turning your phone off and shoving it into your pocket. matt shrugged "you gonna go pick it up?"

"yup, you wanna come along?" you asked him, fixing your hair from laying on it for the past two hours. "yeah, lemme just finish this game" matt said, putting his headset back on, letting chris know too. you made your way out of matt's room, sitting down on the couch next to nick while waiting.

"nick look" you squealed, proud and happy of what you're about to pick up. nick looked up from his laptop, grabbing your phone and swiping trough the pictures. "oh my god, that's PERFECT for your living room!" nick exclaimed, matching your excitement. "literally what i said. i think plants by the wall next to the couch would look SO good with that coffee table in the room." you said, picturing it. nick agreed, handing you your phone back. "you wanna come along with me and matt and pick it up?" you asked nick, typing out a message for the seller to let him know you'll be on your way soon. "i gotta edit our friday video, sorry. but i'll come by when you got it!" nick offered and you nodded. "no worries."

matt's door opened and he walked up to you and nick, stretching. "you ready to head out?" he asked, nodding his head at you. you got up with a yes, waving goodbye to nick and making your way downstairs, matt following close. matt had picked you up earlier today, so your car was back at your place. he drove to the location put into the gps of the car, bobbing his head along to whatever song you put on aux. you were restless with excitement, admiring the pictures of the piece of furtniture that you were soon to call your own.

you arrived at the sellers place after about 15 minutes of driving, getting out of the car with a slight jump of happiness. matt shook his head with a chuckle, locking the car and following you. the coffee table looked just like it did on the photos, just perfect. after getting it into the car and driving to your place, you and matt carried it up into your apartment, placing it down on the rug in your living room. just how you imagined it, it looked perfect. you loved it. "it's so fucking perfect i'm gonna cry!" you chirped excitedly, hugging matt's side tightly. he hugged you back, matching your happiness. "still can't believe you spent $200 on it though."

"one hundred precent worth it and you know it" you smiled, proudly looking at your finally fully furnished living room area.

...

the soft sound of your spotify playlist coming from the TV filled the room, along with conversation between you and your friends. you were laying between matt's legs on the couch, the back of your head resting against his chest while talking to nick and chris. "i mean, it's technically the same fuckin' thing, no?" matt huffed, shrugging. "kid, no. a TV show takes so much more effort to like, get trough." chris spoke. "not really to be honest. if you fuck with it it's not gonna feel as dragging like it would when you don't, obviously."

"nah but still, i'd rather just watch a movie than dedicate a whole day to grinding episodes. like you fully plan your day out around watching a whole season of a TV show" chris argued.

you and nick both exchanged looks, trying to hold your laughter at the meaningless conversation between the other two. the argument about what's better to watch kept going on for a little while longer until it eventually died down.

for the late evening, all of you decided on doordashing some food, eating it while watching a movie. when the movie finished, everyone got up, matt tapped your shoulders that his hands were rested on, urging you to get up so he could too. you got up, stretching, matt matched your movements. "i'll probably be out tomorrow but i can swing by later on." you let them know and they nodded, making their way to the front door of your apartment. hugging you goodbye, nick and chris made their way to the car. matt hugged you, "text me when you guys get home" you mumbled into his hoodie, hugging him back.

you said your goodbyes to matt for the night, closing the door and making your way into the living room, cleaning up the empty cartons of pizza and cans of sodas.

finished with your nightly routine, wiping off your makeup and doing some skincare, you got into bed, picking up your phone.

series link (everything you need to know)

taglist

@grace-sturnz @rcklessheavn @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @chrissturniolossidebitch

[probablyasocialecologist]

Fifteen government departments have been monitoring the social media activity of potential critics and compiling “secret files” in order to block them from speaking at public events, the Observer can reveal. Under the guidelines issued in each department, including the departments of health, culture, media and sport, and environment, food and rural affairs, officials are advised to check experts’ Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and LinkedIn accounts. They are also told to conduct Google searches on those individuals, using specific terms such as “criticism of government or prime minister”. The guidelines are designed to prevent anyone who has criticised the government in the previous three to five years from speaking at government-organised conferences and other events.

[...]

These hidden checks are unlawful, running contrary to data protection laws and potentially breaching equality and human rights legislation. Dan Kaszeta, a chemical weapons expert, was disinvited in April from giving a keynote speech at a UK defence conference after officials found social media posts criticising Tory ministers and government immigration policy. He told the Observer this weekend that he knows of 12 others who have uncovered evidence of similar government blacklisting, most of whom are frightened of speaking out. But he said far more will be unaware they ever failed secret vetting. He said: “The full extent of this is shocking and probably not fully known. I was lucky enough to be given clearcut, obvious evidence. It’s truly awful.”

[ramennoodlezzzao3]

outsiders modern AU head cannons

The gang would absolutely FORBID Ponyboy or Johnny to take an Uber or lift, they said they had to call one of them if they didn’t have a way home. It’s “Dangerous” to get into an Uber because it’s a stranger (I have a finished, unpublished one-shot about Ponyboy in this situation if yall want me to post it 🤭)

Darry refuses to get messenger or Facebook. He uses Life360 and the built in phone app to message Sodapop and Pony. He eventually got messenger so he could be apart of the group chat.

Ponyboy has several secret social media accounts. He posts on them and has quite the following, but has practically blocked every member of the gang so they can’t watch him.

Darry watches the news all the time unless someone changes it

Dally can’t count how many times he’s broken his phone

Two-Bit orders DoorDash just so he can get beers delivered. He also has to buy any soda of pony’s he drank

(Not really a modern HC but it’s a HC) Ponyboy actually HATES Pepsi, but he drinks it because people often buy it for him without asking what he wants. His favorite soda is actually Dr. Pepper, specifically the cherry flavored

Ponyboy used vapes instead of cigarettes to try and quit smoking. Steve was the one who found out and literally destroyed all of his vapes so that pone didn’t get sick

Sodapop uses instagram a LOT. He doesn’t have a huge following, less than pony has on TikTok, maybe around 5K followers? But he notices the pictures he posts with pony get LOTS of likes and views and he always gets so confused as to why

Johnny knows virtually every single TikTok dance known to man

Johnny and Ponyboy watch horror movies together (Johnny knows way to much about murder and scares everyone)

Ponyboy has a soft boy style while everyone else is literally leather jackets and jeans. He literally is the color in the gang

Two-Bit talks in TikTok language and that’s it. He will say stuff like “Chat” and “Cap” and Ponyboy is the only one who fully understands what he is even saying

[leyavo]

You ever watch the movie Red? It's a good movie, general description retired CIA agents get hunted down to be shut up, anyways, they get marked R.E.D. Retired Extremely Dangerous. All i can think about is RED Simon

I did but ages ago 😂 but I would love to see the retired 141 guys trying to get back into the game. Think Simon and Kyle would easily slip back into their roles, whereas Price just wants to relax in his old age and Johnny’s just trying to survive and likes the adrenaline (remember the good old days L.T?) [Masterlist]

Sigh, all Simon wanted to do was fix the sodding breaks on his classic car and take it for its weekly run.

But, no. Price had called like bloody Charlie’s angels and warned him that he was next on whatever assassins list was out to get them. Thankfully he was able to store his car in a private garage, praying that his baby would be safe.

The garage just happened to be another stash for weapons. His fingers ache as he loads the ammo, not as fluid and in tune with his mind anymore. The skull mask discarded in the lockbox, a little snug and the tactical vest too tight that he lets it drape from his broad shoulders instead of strapping it up.

Johnny’s already on the run, looks like Simon isn’t as far up on the list as he thought. A little disheartening for him, if he’s being honest.

Kyle’s the smart one, going dark and getting his family to a safe house before Simon can even ring the doorbell of his house. He’s glad he doesn’t have to see Kyle’s missus, she’d just blame him for bringing an assassin on their doorstep. When it’s clearly Price’s fault.

The assassins more than half his age, Simon could be his dad. The only thing going against him is his lack of youth, but his mind is still alert and he manages to escape the assassin. The worse part, they called him grandpa whilst they were fighting.

Does need to find the guys though…might even have to reach out to Laswell in order to do so. Can definitely see Simon and Johnny on a phone call whilst their sneaking around trying to find info (like in the game when soaps goes it alone and he has to find ghost).

Kyles probably already with Laswell building a file on the assassin, it’s personal now his families involved. He’s already undercover at an agency said to be paying the assassin too. Survived because he has a safe room in his house and an escape route for safety. Always prepared.

Laswell’s offered up you to help Simon with the nitty gritty stuff as the new technology he had no idea how to use. You’re in his ear advising him on how to dodge all the cameras on the streets that weren’t there before. Angel on his shoulder he calls you.

Price is cursing that he’s been brought back into the game when he could be back on his farm and feeding the chickens. He has definitely got fully kitted out surveillance system covering his land and home (he says it’s to catch the foxes before they get to the chickens, but who’s he kidding).

Johnny’s glad he kept to his fitness routine and can still kick it with the youths. Keeps reminiscing about the good old days with the 141. Shaves a Mohawk after a decade of growing it out, thinks it brings him luck and swears to never grow it out again.

What would be funny though…is the assassin not knowing Ghost’s true identity and trying to lure him out by taking the TF141 guys. Of course Simon’s going to rescue his mates.

Assassin’s fucked if they do anything to Simon’s car though.

And the reason they want to shut the TF141 up is because John commented on a Facebook post complaining about the government 😂

[sea-salted-wolverine]

I went to Hawaii. I went diving. It's the end of surf season and not quite dive season but this was a last minute family trip so its not as if I planned this. My standards for "decent dive conditions" are "water deep enough to get my head under that won't immediately kill me". So I was diving.

I found a phone at the bottom of the ocean, just below a surf break. Its pink. Its a iPhone. It's in a case. The case flooded, but Apple is a bitch who won't let anyone fix their precious hardware so the entire motherboard is sealed in resin. It's fully waterproof.

The phone takes a charge. My husband and I fly home, with the phone. The phone powers on. Estimated time at the bottom based on condition of the case : at least a month or 2.

My apple user husbandpulls emergency contact info off the phone. Number is disconnected. Commence the Facebook stalk. We find the guy. He hasn't posted in years. Good for him but frustrating. We find his sister from his page, who hasn't posted since last year. But on her page, she has a link to the health clinic she runs. The clinic has a phone number.

We leave one of the weirder voice-mails that clinic has ever received and prepare to wait 2 to 10 business days for a reply. We get a call back within the hour. She's on the wrong island but shes fairly certain we've found the right guy. She passes on our info to her brother and an hour or so later we get a call from him.

It's his wife's phone. She dropped it off a stand up paddle board while taking pictures of nephew learning to surf. There was also a loyalty card punchcard thing to an ice cream shop in the case, which we did find, but it was a wet paper pulp so it got tossed with the flooded case. Evidently she was more concerned with getting that back that the phone, which she had already replaced, since she had dropped it a full 5 months ago.

So anyway, we got a shipping address and we're mailing a miraculously not bricked phone from Alaska back to Hawaii. This is a new personal record for recovery diving.

[puckinghischier]

https://x.com/hischiersdevils/status/1882504943418089585?s=46

he just looks so cuddly

no cause i was fully tweaking about his facebook post at work yesterday

i just want one hug. one big, soft, cuddly bear hug i know he’s capable of giving

[kedreeva]

Two days ago, I saw a woman I would have sworn was a friend of mine from high school, except the man with her wasn't recognizable. She turned where I could see her fully, and I realized it wasn't her after all. Same hair, wearing glasses, same body shape. We were good friends, once, and it was nice to believe it could be her, for a moment.

This morning, she made a post on facebook about feeling lonely around the holidays, and I reached out to say I think of her sometimes still. I see her in other people, sometimes.

Tonight, she replied that a few days ago, she told her son about me, a friend she had. A girl who loved dragons, she said. He loves dragons, too.

I still love them. They have more feathers than I expected, but I love them still. I was so many things, when I was a teenager, but I think that was the best of them- the girl who loved dragons. She was the artist. She still is an artist. We've both come a long way, but I don't think we got that far apart.

She asked if I wanted to catch up. Hopefully I'll see her soon.

[lavendermoonlitskies]

When I say I feel betrayed over this whole situation, I don’t mean by Neil. I don’t believe in the whole parasocial relationship thing, and I know damn well that he’s just some random man halfway across the earth, whom I have no reason not to believe he’d do something so despicable. I feel betrayed because I let my guard down. I let myself forget that men in positions of power have always been prone to behaving this way, and I got myself all immersed in something he had a major part in creating.

I’ve said this before but I haven’t been this excited about a piece of media in a very long time, and I don’t know that I’ll ever let myself do this again. I get obsessed with things, when I decide I really like something it takes up like 90% of my inner thoughts. I normally try to tone it down, not become annoying to the people around me when I find that it’s hard not to talk about something that really lights me up, but this time I tried reminding myself that I deserve to fully embrace the things that make me happy. So I did. I joined Ao3, I started reading and writing fics, I logged back on to my 10 year old Tumblr account and rebranded it to my new hyperfixation, I even joined a number of discord servers and Facebook groups. It really hurts to have all that so tainted overnight.

I’m sorry if you followed me for Good Omens related content and now I’ve only been posting about this the last couple days, maybe that will change some day but right now I don’t know. I’m trying not to spam.

[rotten-pomegranate]

Hiii thanks you very much for answering my ask🥹❤️

But can please I get one where they never find reader🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Yandere Adult trio and trouble trio when reader escapes and they never find her

First one here

Yes bbg

This is a bit short

Warnings: killing, yandere

/|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\

Feitan

Feitan is offended and pissed that you have the audacity to try and escape him

He’s gonna look for you for years and even after he stops looking he’s still gonna check from time to time if you’ve become brave enough to make a Facebook page or a snapchat account

Even if he knows you aren’t with them he’s gonna kill all the family and friends he didn’t already torture to death trying to find you

Phinks

Like in the last one phinks is heart broken, why was he not enough for you, he fed you, clothed you, made sure you had a comfortable place to sleep every night

He’s gonna low key go crazy the more time passes that he can’t find you and he might ask the troupe for help and if he still can’t find you and they all fail at finding you he’ll be forced to stop because of his mental health

He’s still gonna have some major heartache though, oh some random person that has the same hair colour as you asks him for help? They are getting punched so hard they won’t be recognizable, he sees the nail polish you used to wear in the store? He’s buying it all just so he can throw it away when he’s done smashing them all

Shalnark

Shalnark isn’t very good at showing his emotions but he is sad, not because you got away because he’s doubting himself and his abilities to kidnap someone

He’s buying pad locks and camera and motion detectors for weed before he starts looking for you, that’s probably good for you because it gives you time to get away

When he starts looking he doesn’t think it will take long but you actually did a good job at disappearing and he’s slowing getting more frustrated

He’ll try less but he’ll never stop looking for you so make sure to always cover your tracks well

Chrollo

Chrollos not that worried, he starts tracking you right away and because of that he probably gets close a few times which slowly starts to piss him off

When he can no longer find anything about you he involves shalnark to help and when he can’t find anything he’s having a whole troupe meeting about it

He’s never gonna fully stop looking and he’s never gonna get over the loss of you, he might try and replace you but it isn’t help so he’ll kill the innocent person in your place

Illumi

Illumi is gonna go bat shit crazy when he finds out you escaped, the whole house is gonna know the whole town below his house is gonna feel his bloodlust

He’s gonna have every family member, every dog, every maid and butler out looking for you so you gotta be speedy

Your best Bet is honestly going to another country if you can do that without leaving any footprints

He’s gonna replace you because his family says he has to but whoever comes after you doesn’t mean anything to him like you did

Hisoka

Hisoka is the calmest, he figured he’d find you in like a week because of his skills and hunter license but after a couple months pass he’s starts getting annoyed

He’s pushes other stuff aside at this point to fully focus on looking for you but when it hits the one year mark he pushes it to the back of his mind again

He still makes en effort from time to time but not as often, he is sad you left you where his favourite toy and he didn’t even get a chance to break you

/|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\

©rotten-pomegranate- All rights reserved, don’t steal, translate, copy, plagiarize, claim my work as your own or post it on other platforms.

[mariacallous]

For Sander van der Linden, misinformation is personal.

As a child in the Netherlands, the University of Cambridge social psychologist discovered that almost all of his mother’s family had been executed by the Nazis during the Second World War. He became absorbed by the question of how so many people came to support the ideas of someone like Adolf Hitler, and how they might be taught to resist such influence.

While studying psychology at graduate school in the mid-2010s, van der Linden came across the work of American researcher William McGuire. In the 1960s, stories of brainwashed prisoners-of-war during the Korean War had captured the zeitgeist, and McGuire developed a theory of how such indoctrination might be prevented. He wondered whether exposing soldiers to a weaker form of propaganda might have equipped them to fight off a full attack once they’d been captured. In the same way that army drills prepared them for combat, a pre-exposure to an attack on their beliefs could have prepared them against mind control. It would work, McGuire argued, as a cognitive immunizing agent against propaganda—a vaccine against brainwashing.

Traditional vaccines protect us by feeding us a weaker dose of pathogen, enabling our bodies’ immune defenses to take note of its appearance so we’re better equipped to fight the real thing when we encounter it. A psychological vaccine works much the same way: Give the brain a weakened hit of a misinformation-shaped virus, and the next time it encounters it in fully-fledged form, its “mental antibodies” remember it and can launch a defense.

Van der Linden wanted to build on McGuire’s theories and test the idea of psychological inoculation in the real world. His first study looked at how to combat climate change misinformation. At the time, a bogus petition was circulating on Facebook claiming there wasn’t enough scientific evidence to conclude that global warming was human-made, and boasting the signatures of 30,000 American scientists (on closer inspection, fake signatories included Geri Halliwell and the cast of M*A*S*H). Van der Linden and his team took a group of participants and warned them that there were politically motivated actors trying to deceive them—the phony petition in this case. Then they gave them a detailed takedown of the claims of the petition; they pointed out, for example, Geri Halliwell’s appearance on the list. When the participants were later exposed to the petition, van der Linden and his group found that people knew not to believe it.

The approach hinges on the idea that by the time we’ve been exposed to misinformation, it’s too late for debunking and fact-checking to have any meaningful effect, so you have to prepare people in advance—what van der Linden calls “prebunking.” An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

When he published the findings in 2016, van der Linden hadn’t anticipated that his work would be landing in the era of Donald Trump’s election, fake news, and post-truth; attention on his research from the media and governments exploded. Everyone wanted to know, how do you scale this up?

Van der Linden worked with game developers to create an online choose-your-own-adventure game called Bad News, where players can try their hand at writing and spreading misinformation. Much like a broadly protective vaccine, if you show people the tactics used to spread fake news, it fortifies their inbuilt bullshit detectors.

But social media companies were still hesitant to get on board; correcting misinformation and being the arbiters of truth is not part of their core business model. Then people in China started getting sick with a mysterious flulike illness.

The coronavirus pandemic propelled the threat of misinformation to dizzying new heights. Van der Linden began working with the British government and bodies like the World Health Organization and the United Nations to create a more streamlined version of the game specifically revolving around Covid, which they called GoViral! They created more versions, including one for the 2020 US presidential election, and another to prevent extremist recruitment in the Middle East. Slowly, Silicon Valley came around.

A collaboration with Google has resulted in a campaign on YouTube in which the platform plays clips in the ad section before the video starts, warning viewers about misinformation tropes like scapegoating and false dichotomies and drawing examples from Family Guy and Star Wars. A study with 20,000 participants found that people who viewed the ads were better able to spot manipulation tactics; the feature is now being rolled out to hundreds of millions of people in Europe.

Van der Linden understands that working with social media companies, who have historically been reluctant to censor disinformation, is a double-edged sword. But, at the same time, they’re the de facto guardians of the online flow of information, he says, “and so if we’re going to scale the solution, we need their cooperation.” (A downside is that they often work in unpredictable ways. Elon Musk fired the entire team who was working on pre-bunking at Twitter when he became CEO, for instance.)

This year, van der Linden wrote a book on his research, titled Foolproof: Why We Fall for Misinformation and How to Build Immunity. Ultimately, he hopes this isn’t a tool that stays under the thumb of third-party companies; his dream is for people to inoculate one another. It could go like this: You see a false narrative gaining traction on social media, you then warn your parents or your neighbor about it, and they’ll be pre-bunked when they encounter it. “This should be a tool that’s for the people, by the people,” van der Linden says.

[22ndnervousbreakdown]

Which social media would Sherlock Holmes characters have, according to a discussion I had with my friends in the middle of a night a couple days ago. This is ACD Holmes I think but leaning onto Soviet movies somewhat.

(And yes I'm aware telegram isn't popular outside of russian-speaking internet but just let it be part of the joke i guess)

Holmes: a lot of fake accounts on every website ever, but the only place that he actually posts on for himself is his telegram channel about tobacco varieties that has almost no followers. When Watson learned that Holmes has telegram, he was pissed because he thought Holmes is there to buy drugs.

Watson: he's a really popular ao3 writer. Also has a tumblr blog and an insta where he posts pictures of food, pictures of Holmes and sometimes his drawings (which he photographs with a lot of random stuff in the background for "aesthetics"). He also created a number of "official" Sherlock Holmes accounts without telling Holmes and makes all the posts there himself.

Mrs Hudson: facebook, where she posts recipes, household advices and stuff like that, and occasionally grumbles about Holmes and Watson. Also whenever they do something that really pisses her off, she would list the flat for rent, but always take it down shortly.

Moriarty: tumblr where he mostly posts about maths and a personal website to advertise as a private math tutor. Also a private telegram channel that Holmes somehow managed to follow from a fake acc.

Lestrade: EVERY social media ever. Most notably, twitter, where he always gets in fights (especially with Holmes's fake accs). He also set up an official Scotland Yard tiktok where he just makes really bad edits of policemen just walking somewhere with some music and lots of filters on.

Irene Adler: Instagram. Also onlyfans where she posts really rarely and she's always fully clothed, but she still has like thousands on thousands of followers there.

Mycroft: an official twitter that he hired someone to manage. Also facebook.

Mary Morstan: She doesn't actually exist, it's just one of Holmes's fake Instagram accs where he posted pictures of "Watson's wedding" to escape rumours.

Sir Henry Baskerville: onlyfans with only one subscriber whose username is infusoria666. Everyone but sir Henry himself knows it's Dr. Mortimer. Also Dr. Mortimer tried to set up a travel blog for him but ended up having to post there by himself.

Dr. Mortimer: tumblr blog full of skulls and also a youtube channel. He's also one of the few people who follow Holmes's tobacco telegram, and probably its biggest fan. When they met, he mentioned his youtube channel a lot, hoping that Holmes will ask for a link, but he just ignored even the most obvious hints.

Also:

Baker Street irregulars all have tiktok. They force Watson to watch skibidi toilets.

Lestrade writes with a lot of errors and uses emojis excessively.

Moriarty writes immaculately with all the capital letters and punctuation and periods in the end of every sentence. Holmes does the same but with no capital letters.

Holmes followed Irene Adler from one of his female fake accs. She in turn followed his tobacco channel from a male acc, and commented under one of his posts recommending him to follow a blog on autism.

Once Watson posted a photo of his lunch on his insta and after that a photo of Holmes with a caption "desert :)" and refused to delete it.

Holmes made a youtube channel about beekeeping when he retired.

[angxljxrdxn]

☆▪︎daily shenanigans with your husband, Toji Fushiguro▪︎☆

filipino au, reader x toji 🔞

an: i haven't seen any filipino smuts here in tumblr and twt so i am so glad to post one 🥺

You were laying down on your shared bed with your one and only, Toji Fushiguro. Nags-scroll ka lang sa facebook waiting for your husband to finish showering.

“Sarap mo talaga” he said trying to catch your attention which he succeeded in doing because you turned your head towards his direction.

As he finished using the bathroom, lumabas siya para kumuha ng damit at magpalit and as he did so. he noticed you laying down on the bed with your right leg flexing to the left exposing your thighs and ass.

“Ulol mo, gusto mo lang makaiscore eh” sabi mo habang tumatawa which provoked him to do so.

“Totoo naman eh nakikita ko yung bakat ng puke mo hanggang dito oh ang sarap kainin” he said as he was slowly approaching you.

You on the other hand was cringing at what he said then you replied “Tangina mo makakaisa ka na naman parang hindi mo ako kinantot kanina ah”. “Eh kanina pa yon tsaka dapat 24/7 kang dinidiligan” sabi niya habang tinatanggal ang kanyang tuwalya sa kanyang bewang

“Grabe oh tayong tayo na toh dahil sayo” he said while looking down at his dick and climbed the bed hovering above you.

“Pucha wala naman akong ginagawa. Ang bilis mong tayuan nakakaloka” sabi mo habang inaayos ang iyong pwesto sa ilalim niya.

“sa tuwing nakikita ko yang puke mo inisip ko lang kung gaano kasarap kantutin yan tsaka labasan sa loob mo” he said while reaching out for your pussy and tapping it which made you lightly squirm. "oh tignan mo gusto mo rin naman pala" habol niyang sabi.

You then rolled your eyes jokingly then said “sige papayag ako basta ako nasa taas”.

“sasakyan mo ako? sige ba tignan natin kung kakayanin mo” sabi niya while plopping beside you then laid down comfortably and then you removed your shorts and shirt leaving you with just your panty.

You sat on his lap then stared at his dick for a few seconds then decided to give him a hand job first.

“Fuck ang galing mo talaga humawak ng tite” he moaned at your actions. Skilled ka na sa mga ganitong bagay dahil lagi ninyo itong ginagawa.

Your right hand was gliding up and down his dick sending him shivers down his spine while your left hand was occasionally massaging your pussy.

Hindi naman ata makukumpleto ang isang handjob kung hindi chuchupain diba that’s why you quickly made your way down to suck him off.

When you were about to suck him off, Toji stopped you from doing so and carried you from your arms to sit you on top of his dick.

“Basang basa na nga puke mo hindi mo pa ipasok” he said vulgary to you while grabbing your hips then slamming your pussy down his dick. “T-tangina mo sandali lang” you moaned out as you tried to take him in fully.

“A-anlaki mo talaga…i am so fucking full” you said as you held on to his arms for dear life. As you get comfortable with his dick literally impaling you, you start to bounce slowly. You moan every time you bottom him out while he on the other hand is enjoying the view of you bouncing up and down.

"Fuck mas tinitigasan ako dahil sa boobs mo shit anlaki pa tapos tayong tayo pa utong mo” sabi niya while reaching out to your boobs for him to massage it.

Putangina ang galing niya talaga humawak ng dede kapag libog na libog, you thought to yourself pero wala ka ng magagawa ganyan talaga asawa mo eh.

As he was feeling your body, ikaw naman ay nagpapakahirap sakyan ang kanyang tite. Your clit is even hitting the base of his dick which made you squirt and let out the most pornographic moan you could ever release.

“S-shit shit shit” you cried out as juices from your dear pussy came out. He chuckled as you tried to control yourself from losing it but then you lost it when his fingers made contact with your clit.

“W-wait wag muna…’m sensitive” you said as you hold on to his wrist as you try to stop him from doing what he wants to do.

“Anong wag muna, first time mo lang toh nagawa” he said at oo totoo naman na first time mo lang magsquirt sa buong buhay mo pero he’s persistent as fuck kaya hinawakan niya parin ang puke mo to add pressure on your clit.

He followed your pussy as you started to go up and won to finish what you started.

You were a moaning mess on top of him as you bounced up and down his very big dick.

Tangina his girth is to die for talaga o baka yun ang papatay ata sayo ni hindi na nga gumagana utak mo kakasakay mo eh.

The only thing that’s going on inside your head is kung gaano siya kalaki at kung gaano ka sarap pinapatamaan ng ulo niya ang cervix mo. Malapit na kayong labasan kaya medyo bumabagal ang iyong galaw kaya’t si Toji nalang ang gagawa ng paraan para sa inyong dalawa.

“Don’t give up on me, pretty…kailangan ko ilabas tamod ko sa loob” he said as he lifted his hips up to meet your pussy.

As you both try to reach your climax, your pussy was pulsating signaling that a few more thrust and you are cumming which Toji knew and obliged. He met your thrusts halfway and held your hips to make sure the tip of his dick is really kissing your cervix

“Fuck fuck eto na lalabas na, babe” you said as you bounced up and down before cumming all over his cock and completely stopping from riding him.

“Paano naman ako kung titigil ka” he said which made you come to your senses and slowly lifted yourself up then slamming your hips down gradually increasing your speed. As you rode him for quite some time, he finally came inside you.

“Ang init ng tamod mo, babe” you said as you look at him straight on to his eyes. “Magulat ka na lang kung malamig yan” he said trying to make you laugh which he successfully did while caressing your thighs with his big hands.

You lifted yourself up, his dick sliding off you which made you feel empty for a few seconds before all of your cum seeped out from your pulsating hole. “Gago andaming tamod” he said as he reached out to your pussy then slipped his two fingers inside of you.

“Syempre hindi natin sasayangin yan kaya ibabalik natin” he said while smirking and fingering your pussy. His fingers were full of cum and pussy juices making it a lube for him at dahil don napadali ang pagfifinger niya sayo.

His fingers were so fat it could form a dick and the fact na it curls to reach your spots tangina. Lahat ng parte ng katawan niya malaki puta tama talaga na pinakasalan mo tong gagong toh.

“Shit p-pag ako nilabasan ulit” you said but he quickly replied with “edi labasan ka, mas maganda nga yon eh”.

He continued on fingering you which made you squirt and cum at the same time which he really found hot. “Tangina ang hot non gago tumayo ulit tite ko” he said looking at your pussy and slowly caressing your folds para ikalat ang tamod ninyong dalawa.

He sat up meeting your face then kissed you passionately. Oh tignan mo pati sa paghalik expert siya. Parang ganon ata talagaa kapag malibog.

His lips were attached to yours at talagang lasap na lasap niya ang iyong labi. His lips were so soft and tender kaya't natempt kang kagatin ito.

Your stared at him with you biting his lip, he said “pwede pa namang makaisa diba” then winked at you.

Mukhang hanggang madaling araw ata kayo sa kuwartong iyon.

[thatgaymerguyb]

Anyone else in the Veilguard group on Facebook. Someone posted the question of who to save. The positive is everyone overwhelmingly picks Davrin. The negative is that they fucken do it to save Assan. Like just fuck Davrin over here as the only fully centred well written, well acted, black character in a BioWare game.

Someone be angry with me. Davrin is beautiful character and not just physically. He’s everything anyone in their right mind would want in a friend.

[signor-signor]

This month, it will have been 10 years (one decade) since Craig McCracken made a pitch for Season 3 of Wander Over Yonder, several months before Disney turned it down. While we wait for Craig to finish up whatever he’s been working on since he left Netflix (specifically, Foster’s Funtime for Imaginary Friends), let’s ask ourselves:

How do we get SaveWOY and other related material back on track in an effort to convince Disney to give WOY proper closure?

In other words…

How do we renew interest in reviving WOY?

Thanks to a user on a SaveWOY Facebook group, we have the information to explain it all…

Remember that Securing Disney’s approval is just Step 1, but to truly make a Wander Over Yonder revival work, we need Craig McCracken and the original creative team on board. Without them, the show risks losing what made it special in the first place.

STEPS FOR A SUCCESSFUL WOY REVIVAL

STEP 1: CONVINCE DISNEY TO GREENLIGHT THE PROJECT

• Show Disney that WOY still has a passionate fanbase and potential for success.

• Push for Disney+ as the ideal home, where revivals like The Clone Wars and The Proud Family have thrived.

• Emphasize the unfinished story—Disney knows that fan outcry for closure (Gravity Falls, The Owl House) can influence decisions.

STEP 2: ENSURE CRAIG MCCRACKEN & KEY CREATORS ARE INVOLVED

• Craig McCracken’s Approval is Crucial. WOY is his vision—without him, it wouldn't be the same. His presence ensures consistency in tone, characters, and storytelling.

• Other Key Members Needed - Jack McBrayer (Wander): His voice defines Wander’s character—recasting him would be a mistake.

Andy Bean (Composer): His music shaped WOY��s energy and emotional moments.

Other Writers & Animators: The humor, heart, and art style need the original team’s touch.

STEP 3: CAMPAIGN FOR THEIR RETURN

• If Disney says yes to a revival, the next step is getting Craig and his team excited about returning.

• Make it clear to Disney that a WOY revival must have the original team to succeed.

BOTTOM LINE

Getting Disney’s approval is the first major hurdle, but without Craig McCracken and his team, a third season wouldn’t be the same. Fans need to push for WOY’s return with the original creative team intact to preserve its heart and magic!

But that’s not all.

WHY THIS MATTERS FOR GAINING MORE SUPPORT

1. Clarifying That WOY Wasn’t Meant to End at Season 2 - Some potential supporters might think WOY had a proper ending, so they don’t see the need for a revival.

The campaign needs to spread awareness that Craig McCracken had a full third season planned and that the final episode wasn’t a real conclusion.

2. Attracting Fans of Other Shows That Got Proper Closures - Fans of shows like Gravity Falls, Steven Universe, or The Owl House—all of which got finales—might not feel the urgency to fight for WOY unless they understand that it was left unfinished.

Making the case that WOY deserves the same closure as those shows can help gain their support.

3. Using Other Fan Revivals as Inspiration - Campaigns like Young Justice and The Clone Wars proved that strong fan demand can bring back shows, even years later.

Showing that WOY has unfinished business makes the case even stronger—this isn’t just nostalgia, it’s about completing the story.

WHAT FANS CAN DO NOW

• Emphasize the Cliffhanger: Social media campaigns should highlight that WOY never got its intended ending.

Posts, videos, and petitions should stress that Season 2 was not a real finale.

• Engage Fans of Other Shows: Get Gravity Falls, Owl House, and Amphibia fans interested by framing WOY as the next show that needs proper closure.

Many of those fans already fought for extended content and could help boost the movement.

• Create Buzz Around Craig’s Original Plan: More people need to know that a fully planned Season 3 existed, but Disney shut it down.

Spreading concept art, old interviews, and Craig’s vision for Lord Dominator’s arc could build more excitement.

BOTTOM LINE

The more people understand that WOY wasn’t actually completed, the easier it will be to get broader fan support. The campaign needs to educate people on the cliffhanger and show why a Season 3 or TV movie is necessary to give the series the ending it deserves!

I couldn’t have said it all better myself.