#how much does a person need to weigh to not be considered a person anymore

[desasterdan]

Your comment is not helpful and exactly the shit op critizises. It's not your job to decide what's unhealthy and what's not.

Lasting weightloss is not possible for about 90% people who try. OBESE (whatever the fuck the capslock's supposed to mean) or not, we are all people entitled to respect, humanity and inclusion. And fat folx certainly do not need fucking randos telling them how unhealthy they are because shit like this only leads to isolation, depression and eating disorders.

diet culture people make me feel like i’m going crazy. you want me to take an experimental pill that destroys my appetite?? you want me to remove part of my stomach??? you want me to stop eating bread and rice, two of the staple foods most inherent to humanity????? why exactly? because my stomach is big? because you don’t like the way i look, and you think it’s reasonable to tell me to carve pieces off of myself and try random drugs and ruin my own life so i can look more visually pleasing to you? and you somehow don’t see how absurdly cruel and selfish that is to ask of somebody???? while pretending you care about their HEALTH????????????????? FUCK YOU!!!!

[milkoomi]

⋆˚࿔ a new canvas means a new you 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

a mini series on the art of becoming a better you

inspired by this podcast i watched recently !!

chapter one — THE ART OF LETTING GO

letting go is one of the strongest and bravest things we can do for ourselves. whether it be letting go of toxic relationships, bad habits, or simply just things that no longer serve you, being able to do something like that will help us grow stronger and create a better life for ourselves. i’m sure there’s so many things, or even people, that have been weighing you down or hindering your own progress, so take that first step and let. them. go.

ᥫ᭡. things/people to let go of

bad friends/partners

toxic relationships, whether romantic or platonic, are extremely hard to free yourself from, but you have to put yourself first. you are always your number one priority. if you believe in “treat others how you want to be treated”, then you should believe in making sure others are treating you the way you want to be treated. you can always give and give to the people in your life, but relationships are a two-way street, babe. you can’t give your all when the person or people you’re giving too isn’t giving anything in return! don’t continue to expend any more of your energy on those who won’t even consider trying to give you even an ounce of energy back. it’s not worth it.

when you’re in a toxic relationship, you start to realize how poorly you’re being treated, but because you want to try and fix the relationship or mend it somehow, you stay. and staying is one of the worst things you can do for yourself. while you try and try to fix something that you aren’t even responsible for fixing, you just keep hurting yourself over and over; making yourself even more miserable in the relationship. and you don’t deserve that! you don’t deserve to be treated poorly time and time again, you never deserved that kind of treatment to begin with!

let them go. leave. free yourself from the constant heartbreak, betrayal, and pain. you’ll lose yourself if you stay, and i know that you’re trying to find a better version of yourself, so if you stay you’ll never find that person. you’ll keep getting lost and you’ll keep getting further and further away from your own happiness that you do deserve.

“but how do i leave?”

if we’re talking toxic friends: distance yourself. put distance between you and them until you’re too far away for them to reach. keep conversations short, keep responses to a minimum until you eventually have gone so far that they can’t find you anymore.

or simply: cut them off, immediately. block them on everything. instagram, twitter, tiktok— all social media. block their number. block them out of your life for good. they don’t deserve to see you, to hear from you, to have the chance to try and speak to you; they do not deserve you.

if we’re talking romantic relationships: send them a message. whether it’s a letter you send to their house or even through a text, send them a message. if you do it through text, do not feel any remorse for doing so. there’s this whole idea of “if you break up with them over text, you’re a coward”, and in most cases i can see that to be true, but if you’re in a relationship where your partner does not value you, respect you, or even love you the way you’re meant to be loved then they don’t even deserve the courtesy of an in-person break up.

sometimes we’re put in situations where even sending a message may seem impossible because our partner has taken too much control over us. when this kind of situation happens, we have to put our foot down. if you feel like you have no control, even over yourself, you need to leave. you have to do whatever it takes to leave because you should never, and i mean never, be put in any kind of situation or relationship where you feel like you have no control over yourself. you should never stay in a relationship that makes you feel trapped or that makes you feel scared to leave. you are allowed to leave no matter what anyone says.

additional note: if you are ever put in a situation where you feel unsafe in a relationship, please reach out for help. whether it be your family, a friend, or even an authoritative figure, please reach out for help. you do not deserve to ever feel unsafe by someone who’s supposed to love you.

negative self-talk

most times we are our own worst enemy. there have been so many times where i’ve put myself down with extremely hurtful words— words i would never say to someone i loved. if i wouldn’t say those awful things to someone i cared about, why should i say them to myself? we need to let go of talking down on ourselves. the more we put ourselves down with hurtful words, the more we let our insecurities take over and eventually consume us.

we have to be kind to ourselves. at the end of each day, we only ever have ourselves. you need to always have your own back! talk to yourself like you would to someone you love! talk to yourself with love.

negative self-talk gives more energy to those who try to hurt us. the more energy we put into hurting ourselves, even more energy will put into those who feel like they have power over us. do you really want someone who puts you down feel like they have so much more power over you? no, right? then, please, use that energy to bring more confidence and power into yourself. the only person who should have power over you, is you. use your own power to bring yourself up, not bring yourself down.

“but it seems too hard, where do i start?”

applaud yourself for making achievements no matter how big or small! did you make your bed today? then congratulate yourself! did you get a promotion or raise at your job? then tell yourself how proud you are! it doesn’t matter what the achievement is, if you accomplished it then you deserve more than a pat on the back from yourself. always take pride in your work, always treat small wins as the biggest win of the day, always tell yourself that you are so proud of who you are becoming and what you’ve accomplished.

compliment your appearance, makeup, or outfit! maybe your skin’s been improving, so you should look in the mirror and say “hey, you have really beautiful skin!” or maybe you snapped a pic of the makeup look you just did, then you should say “wow, i’m really talented at doing my makeup! it turned out great!” or maybe you put together an outfit for your day, then you should say, “i made a really great choice in my clothes today! this looks so nice!”

treat yourself with kindness, care, respect, and love. you need to uplift yourself to feel like your best self! literally, just talk to yourself. look in the mirror and have a sweet conversation with yourself and just admire who you see in the reflection.

sometimes we have to fake it til we make it, and honestly? it works! even if you start out and you feel like you’re lying to yourself, still do it. do it until it finally starts to feel real and then keep doing it from that point forward.

feeling embarrassed

we live in a day and age where everything that anyone does is labeled as “cringe”, and it’s exhausting. now, people feel like they can’t be who they are without feeling like they’re being “cringe” or without feeling embarrassed for being themselves or taking part in things they enjoy.

you should never feel embarrassed for being who you want to be or for enjoying things that genuinely make you happy. let go of feeling embarrassed! you are allowed to have fun and be happy being yourself. don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you can’t.

i always like to think, “well, if someone thinks i’m ‘cringe’ then they must not know how to have fun with their own life!” because that’s more than likely the truth! people will feel threatened by those who exude confidence in what they enjoy and who they are and those people will do anything to project their own insecurities onto others. it’s never anything you’re doing that’s wrong. what’s wrong is the fact that some people just can’t stand seeing others thrive. let yourself be someone that those haters can’t stand to see thrive.

i’ve said this before, and i’ll say it again, be unapologetically yourself.

ᥫ᭡. how to let go

letting go just means detaching yourself from the things/people that have held you down. it means to simply stop caring. i know i said “simply”, but of course it isn’t all that simple. this is something you have to work towards!

emotional detachment.

when you bring yourself the inability to attach your emotions to something or someone, you practice emotional detachment.

now, in some cases, emotional detachment may not be a good thing, but when you’re practicing or in the process of letting go it’s best to emotionally detach yourself from that thing or person.

acknowledge and reflect on your emotions! what do these things or people that you want to let go of make you feel? sadness? anger? frustration? grab a journal and write down all that you’re feeling. acknowledging and being aware that there are things/people who are making you feel a negative emotion is a great first step to emotional detachment. you’re being made aware of your feelings, thoughts, and emotions that are a result of the things/people you want to let go of— and that’s a good thing! it allows you to see how you’re still attached and helps you think “well, i don’t want to feel this way anymore” and will begin the next thought process of how you will start letting go of those particular feelings.

set boundaries! now that you’re aware of how these things/people make you feel, you can start setting boundaries for yourself. with people, like i mentioned earlier, you can create distance or even block them. of course, you can always try to set a boundary with that person, but remember: if they cross your boundary and continue to cross it, let them go. you put these boundaries in place and whoever it is that you are setting boundaries with needs to respect them just as they would want you to respect any of theirs. when it comes to setting personal boundaries for things like the ones i mentioned above, it’s the same idea of cutting off what makes you act on that negative self-talk or gives you that feeling of embarrassment. blocking hateful people on social media, unfollowing accounts that don’t make you feel good about yourself, and/or taking a break from social media and making more time for yourself in the real world.

focus on self care & yourself! after you’ve set some boundaries, whether it was with yourself or with others, start putting in more time focused on you. focus on things and people that genuinely make you happy, consume content that makes you feel good whether in general or makes you feel good about yourself, and practice self care! as i said in the beginning, you are always your number one priority. your happiness, your peace, and you overall should always come first in your own life.

ᥫ᭡. final notes

this is “the art of letting go” and art is always something you have to practice so that you get better at it! take your time and be patient with yourself. letting go isn’t an uphill battle, there’s going to a lot of ups and downs and feelings of uncertainty or even anxiety and fear, but i know you can do it! i know there isn’t a single thing that you can’t accomplish for yourself! you are capable of change and you are more than capable of becoming a a better version of yourself for yourself.

with lots of love, juno 🌷

[wlwxreader]

Queen of the Wilderness

not my gif

Yandere!Lottie Matthews x fem!reader

Summary: After the crash, came the need for survival. And with that, came the hunger. When you get selected as The Queen of Hearts, your girlfriend Lottie does everything she can to keep you safe, and starts to think of you of some kind of almighty being

Warning(s): obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, cannibalism, mentions of blood, Lottie being a cult leader, power dynamics, protective!Lottie

Word Count: 2.6 k words

Request: here

A/N: might make a part 2 idk

Masterlist: tba

You had lost count of how many months you have been stuck in the forest with your teammates.

You used to keep a very precise count. Every time you woke up, you would add another number to the figure. You would repeat it throughout the day, like a mantra that kept you sane.

You stopped counting when Jackie died, and Lottie started to talk about the Wilderness.

It made no sense to keep count anymore. No one would ever come to rescue you. You didn’t want them to, after what you had done. You all had broken a sacred human oath; you had eaten human flesh. Your soul would be forever tainted. It was only fair that you had to live the rest of your days like that, always hungry, always weighed down by your mistakes.

Lottie had changed too, but in a way you didn’t expect to. She was the leader of the group now, always keeping everyone on check.

She also kept them fed.

You never questioned her. You knew her. You knew she was doing whatever she could to keep the group together, and alive. You had known her your entire life, you knew she wouldn’t hurt a fly.

You knew it.

So when they started doing the card game, and she was a willing participant, you knew it was for the best.

“We have to do it, Y/N,” she whispered quietly, rubbing your back as you dry heaved over a bucket. You were in the attic, it was late at night. You could see her silhouette only because of the moon light, shining through the naked trees.

“I know,” you whispered. You moved away from the bucket. No matter how much you hated yourself, your weakened body couldn’t bring itself to throw up.

You had just eaten a person, and you were so hungry you would have gone for another round.

“Come here,” she whispered. Her hands were cold, but when you rested your head on her chest, she was warm. So damn warm against the coldness.

“I hate it,” you said. You wanted to sob, but were too tired to do so.

“I know, baby.”

Her voice was soft, unlike when she talked to the group. With you, she was still warm, she was still Lottie.

“What do you think we would be doing now, if the plane never crashed?” you asked. You used to ask a lot of questions lately; you needed to hear her voice, so it would drown out everything else.

“We’d be in college,” Lottie said. She ran her hand through your hair, and you sighed. “We would be in the same university. I would’ve gotten us a place close to college, and we would be living together.”

“You think?” you asked, sleepily.

“Yeah,” Lottie said, with a certainty that made you feel relaxed. “We’ll always be together, baby. Always.”

You hummed, closing your eyes. You fell into a dreamless sleep, and Lottie allowed you, sitting down on the floor. When she was certain you wouldn’t wake up, she carried you to bed and put all the blankets she could find over your body.

She left the attic with a kiss on your forehead. Almost everyone was already sleeping, laying as close to the fire as they could be. Natalie was laying against one of the walls, deep in thought.

“Have we run out of meat already?” Lottie asked. She crossed her arms, waiting for the blonde to reply.

“We have food for tomorrow’s lunch,” she said. Her eyes were on the rifle, as if she was considering how crazy it would be to get out in the middle of the night to find an animal.

“That’s it?” Lottie looked out the window, as she too was wondering the same thing.

“Yeah,” Natalie sighed. She looked reluctant to even speak the words. “Tomorrow, we’ll have to play again.”

Play. Lottie almost laughed at the word. They haven’t played in too long. Not even since the plane crashed.

“Okay,” she said instead. “I’ll work on it.”

Lottie came back to the attic, and laid down beside you. She put her hand on your cheek, and smiled when you moved closer, seeking her out even in your sleep.

Lottie knew what they were doing, what she was doing, would be considered psychotic if anyone outside of the group were to find out. But they couldn’t hear the whispers that came with the wind, they couldn’t feel the hunger that stuck like cheap gum on long hair. They couldn’t, but she could, and she knew she had to listen to the wilderness to keep you alive.

You were the most important person in her life. You were her lifeline. When she first saw you, her breath had stopped for a second. She had wanted you ever since, and had done everything to ensure you stayed by her side. She had the means for it. Especially now, in the middle of nowhere, with a group of people that would do anything she asked for.

“I’ll keep you safe,” she whispered against your hair. “I promise.”

The Queen of Hearts.

The card stared back at you, almost mockingly.

You swallowed hard, looking around the room. You wanted to take it all in, the tranquility of the cabin before you turned the card around and everyone would be craving your meat like wild animals.

Your eyes caught Lottie’s. She looked beautiful, with her antler crown and her dark brown hair falling on soft waves. She looked back, always aware whenever you looked at her, and the smile she gave you froze midway when she noticed your face.

“No,” she said, arms falling down to her sides. All strength seemed to leave her all at once. While the others kept choosing a different card from the stack, she walked up to you in fast steps.

“Run.”

You looked into her wild eyes, feeling her fingers digging into your arms. You blinked once, twice, and then once more, and before you knew it, the card was on the ground and you were running towards the door.

“It’s Y/N,” Shauna said. She looked detached, gone. Her eyes no longer had any warmth in them.

“Fuck,” Natalie said, looking at Lottie. She rushed to grab the rifle and held tight onto it, making sure no one else would grab it and use it to hunt you.

“She can’t get away,” someone said, and it was as if a light switch was turned on.

Everyone except Lottie and Natalie left the cabin, searching for you. They screamed your name, running in different directions to find you.

“This can’t be right,” Lottie said, completely out of it. She stared at the door, eyes out of focus. “Y/N is mine. They wouldn’t hurt her. The wilderness promised. I promised.”

“I—” Natalie was lost for words. She had never been okay with anything they were doing. She felt guilty; if she had managed to find enough food to keep everyone well fed… “I’m so sorry, Lot.”

Hours went by, and you remained hidden.

You moved stealthily, remembering all the advice Nat had taught you in those times you hunted with her.

Keep your head down. Use the woods to your advantage. Never look back, always move forward.

You did as she had told you all those weeks ago. You could hear them all around you, steps that never flattered unlike yours, screams that called for your blood, for your death.

You kept going, until you fell down. You almost moaned, but held yourself back in time. If they heard you now, it would be over.

You looked at your foot, grabbing it. It hurt like a bitch.

Something moved to your left, and you ignored the pain to get up. You couldn’t fight anyone sitting on the floor.

Instead, you found yourself staring at a white hare. You blinked in disbelief. It couldn’t be possible. Nat and Travis had said time and time again there were no animals left to hunt.

So why was a hare right in front of you?

You watched as it dug into the snow, disappearing from sight. You crawled towards the place the animal had just been at, and you noticed a small hole. With desperation, using the last remaining rays of sunlight, you moved the snow away, trying to find what you thought could be your salvation.

The hare’s den.

Your hands were numb and freezing by the time you found it. There were at least ten of them, piled up together in their home to keep safe from the cold. You felt sorry for a second before you reached for the first one, wasting no time to twist its neck.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered as you sobbed. You took off your jacket, and laid the animal there. You did the same with the others, only thinking of how long they would keep the group fed.

They wouldn’t go rotten for a while if you kept them by the snow, and someone could make broth with them. If the group was smart, the animals laying on your jacket would keep you fed for well over a month.

You got up when you were done, trying not to think of what you had just done with those innocent hares. Your steps were clumsy and uneven, what with the snow and your throbbing ankle. You took a big sigh, and walked back to the cabin, hoping you could explain yourself before you were attacked by someone, anyone.

When you saw lights by the cabin, you almost went back into the woods. They had regrouped, probably arranging themselves into different groups to cover the entire forest until they found you.

Taissa was the first one to notice you, limping toward the cabin. In a moment of loyalty you had thought long forgotten, she shut her mouth and turned back around, giving you some ahead time to run.

But you didn’t. You moved forward, stepping loudly so everyone could hear.

“Y/N,” Lottie said, out of breath. She ran towards you, wrapping her arms tightly around you, knees deep in the snow you had just fallen to, incapable of holding yourself up anymore.

You knew then, with the way she was holding you, that she would die protecting you. She wouldn’t move away from you even if they crawled at her skin until they reached muscle and bone.

“Lottie,” Shauna said, almost weary. “Move away from Y/N.”

“You won’t take her away from me,” Lottie said. You had never heard her sound so fierce.

“We need food,” Misty said.

“I have food,” you said. Your voice was muffled by Lottie’s chest.

“What?”

You moved away from your girlfriend, and rested the jacket on the ground. Silence was the only response you recieved.

Everyone looked at the hares, in complete confusion.

“It’s not possible,” Natalie said. She kneeled down in front of you and grabbed one of the hares, as if to check if they were real.

“It is,” Lottie said, with a conviction that made you furrow your eyebrows. “Y/N has brought us food. She’s the Wilderness’ daughter.”

“What?” Shauna asked, looking between you and the hares.

“Can’t you see?” Lottie asked, getting up. She faced the entire group with a smile on her face. “She is mine, and she is protected by the Wilderness. The Wilderness is her mother.”

You wanted to shake your head, to tell Lottie to shut up, but you were still in shock. In a few days, you would process everything that had happened and finally understand the severity of the situation, of just how close you had been to being hunted by your own friends, but at the moment you couldn’t think of anything except how scared you were, so you just allowed Lottie to wrap her arms around your forearms, trying to help you get up.

“My foot,” you complained.

“Someone hurt you?” she asked, sweetly. Too cheerful given the situation.

“No.”

But Lottie didn’t hear you. She got up again, looking at the crowd with fire in her eyes.

“Do you see what you have done?” she asked. “You hurt her. You know what would’ve happened if someone had taken her from me?”

The group remained silent, looking at Lottie as if they were mesmerized. A few of the girls had kneeled down to grab one of the hares, them checking too if they were real, and had stayed there, kneeling in front of your girlfriend.

“Everyone would have been killed by the Wilderness. She has been benevolent this time, allowing you to hurt what’s mine and still keeping you fed. But it won’t happen again.”

You looked in disbelief as everyone nodded.

“Now go work on dinner, and be thankful for the food she has brought.”

To your utter surprise, Lottie grabbed you bride style and lifted you up. She made you rest your head on her shoulder, and carried you back to the cabin. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” she whispered as she sat you down in one of the chairs that were by the fire. She kneeled before you, and took off your shoes. “I should’ve kept you safe. You shouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

You watched as she got up to get the little medical supplies there were left. She kneeled and grabbed your swollen foot, and left a kiss on your shin.

“I’ll do better next time,” she promised. She wrapped some bandage over the afflicted zone, apologizing when you complained. “I will. No more card games for you. No one is ever going to touch you again. No one but me.”

“Lottie…”

She gave you a smile after she was done with the bandage. It was slightly crooked, and a little tight, and she knew she should have asked Misty to do it, but she would rather die than see another woman touching you.

You were hers. She could finally understand— it had all happened for a reason. The two of you meeting, you joining the football team, the plane crash… It was all for a reason.

“Don’t you see, baby?” she asked, eyes wide open. A smile split her face in half, making you slightly uneasy. “You are mine. My queen. The child of the Wilderness. We both look out for you.”

On any other day, you would have been combative. You would have told her she was overreacting, and that she should calm down. That the entire thing was maddening, and it was no one’s fault.

But you were so tired, and your leg hurt, and you wanted to cry over the betrayal you had felt when your friends had tried to kill you to eat you.

So instead, you nodded, and followed her back to the attic.

“My baby,” Lottie wrapped a jacket around your shoulders. “You must’ve been so cold. But not anymore.”

She kissed your shoulder when you laid behind her on the bed, and you allowed her to hold you through the night.

Lottie smiled when she felt your breath slow down, indicating you had fallen asleep.

She could hear noises downstairs. The girls were already preparing dinner. She would go down in a while to grab food for the two of you, but until then, she held you tight.

[amethystarachnid]

MRS. STARK

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 8k

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of kids, mentions of pregnancy (only at the end), paparazzis are a pain in the ass

ᯓ★ Timeline: not in a defined timeline, more like an AU

ᯓ★ Request: Tony stark × marriage of convenience au Tony loses his company reputation because of his playboy reputation. The board of directors demands that he fix this. Pepper suggests an arranged marriage for this. At that moment, he meets reader who is evicted from her home and needs money and proposes. In time, love develops between them. (@binsan)

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

You pace the small, dingy room you’ve called home for the past few years, the weight of eviction papers heavy in your hand. The landlord's voice echoes in your mind—“You’ve got two weeks. I can’t do this anymore.” It’s not as though you didn’t see this coming. The bills have piled up, and opportunities have been scarce. With no family to turn to and nowhere to go, you wonder how much lower things can get.

As you sit on the fraying edge of your sofa, rubbing your temples, you wonder what your next move could be. The clock ticks steadily, matching the racing thoughts in your mind. I need a miracle, you think, feeling the weight of your situation press down on you.

Meanwhile, across the city, Tony Stark is having his own personal crisis.

Tony lounges in a sleek leather chair in his office at Stark Industries, the weight of the boardroom conversation still lingering in the air. His playboy reputation, once charming and even beneficial to his image, has started to backfire. The board of directors is growing impatient—no, they’re furious—and they’ve made it crystal clear that his antics are ruining the company’s reputation. Something needs to change. Immediately.

Pepper Potts, his ever-practical assistant, stands across from him, arms crossed as she regards him with a mixture of sympathy and exasperation.

“We need damage control,” she says, her voice steady but firm. “The media is eating up every single party, every single fling. They don’t take you seriously anymore, and frankly, neither does the board.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, taking a casual sip of whiskey. “What’s your plan, Potts? A heartfelt apology tour? I’ll have to fit that between saving the world and engineering cutting-edge tech, you know.”

Pepper doesn’t flinch. “You need stability. Something solid, responsible. The kind of image that reassures people you’re not just a billionaire playboy. You need…” She hesitates, as if weighing her next words carefully. “…a wife.”

Tony nearly chokes on his drink, coughing out a laugh. “A wife? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious, Tony.” Pepper’s eyes narrow. “The board will back off if they see you’ve settled down. It shows commitment. That you're thinking long-term. And if the right woman is involved—someone respectable—then maybe people will start seeing you as the man behind the genius, not just the man at the party.”

Tony leans back, considering her words more seriously than he expected to. Marriage had never been on his radar—it’s never even been a blip. But this is different. A strategic move. A necessary one.

“Alright, say I’m interested,” he says slowly. “Where do you propose I find a wife willing to marry me for show?”

Pepper sighs. “There are plenty of women—”

“I’m not interested in one of those society climbers, Pepper. I don’t need anyone looking for a fifteen-minute spotlight or a big payout.”

Just as Tony is about to dismiss the entire conversation, the door to his office swings open. You stand there, slightly out of breath, a bundle of papers clutched to your chest.

Pepper blinks in surprise, but Tony just arches an eyebrow. “And you are?”

“I’m—” You pause, taking a breath. “I need to talk to someone. My home—” you stammer, fumbling with the words, "—I was told to come here. You helped my mother years ago. She said—if I ever needed anything—”

Tony watches you, his expression unreadable, though his eyes flicker with curiosity.

“Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place for help,” he says, his tone shifting from mild annoyance to sudden interest. “Why don’t you sit down? Let’s talk.”

You cautiously take a seat across from him, feeling out of place in his luxurious office. You’ve heard the stories about Tony Stark—the genius, the billionaire, the womanizer. But in this moment, you can’t afford to care about any of that. You need help, and he’s your last shot.

“Let me guess,” Tony says, leaning forward. “You’re about to lose your home. You need money. And you have nowhere to turn.”

You glance at Pepper, who looks back at you with quiet understanding, then back at Tony. “Yes,” you whisper, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on you.

He leans back again, studying you for a long moment before something shifts in his expression. A thought flickers across his mind—a spark of an idea. And then, he smiles.

“Let’s make a deal,” Tony says suddenly. His voice is calm, calculated. “I need a wife. You need a home. How do you feel about an arrangement that benefits both of us?”

Your heart stutters in your chest. “A wife?”

Tony nods. “It’s purely business. You marry me, I’ll make sure you never have to worry about money again. You’ll have everything you need—home, security, whatever. And in return, I get the board off my back. Simple.”

You blink at him, trying to process the whirlwind offer that’s just been thrown at you. It sounds insane. But then again, your whole life has become a series of impossible situations lately. And this one…well, this one comes with a solution, even if it’s wrapped in the strangest of packages.

Tony leans in, eyes locked with yours, a hint of a challenge in his voice. “What do you say?”

You sit there, staring at him as though he’s just suggested you rob a bank together. His words hang heavy in the air, and your mind races to catch up. A wife? Marry Tony Stark? The idea sounds absurd, but as your thoughts turn back to your eviction notice, you realize you might not have a choice. Desperation has a way of forcing your hand, and this—this could be your way out.

Tony watches you, his expression still unreadable, though there’s a glint in his eyes that makes you wonder if he’s enjoying your discomfort a little too much. He’s waiting for your answer, clearly expecting you to be as quick and sharp as he is.

“You’re serious?” you manage to say, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Dead serious,” Tony replies, the smirk on his face both charming and infuriating at the same time. “It’s a win-win situation. You get stability, I get a new image. We play the part for the public, keep the board happy, and in a year or two, we go our separate ways. Clean and simple.”

You stare at him, searching for any sign that this is some kind of joke, some twisted billionaire’s game. But there’s nothing playful about his gaze now. Tony Stark might be a lot of things—reckless, arrogant, brilliant—but he’s not someone who wastes time.

“What’s in it for you, really?” you ask, folding your arms defensively. “Why me? You could marry anyone—some model or socialite who would be more than happy to play the part. Why pick a random woman off the street?”

“Because you’re not a model or a socialite,” he says simply, his voice dropping a little lower. “I don’t need someone who’s after the spotlight or my bank account. I need someone who won’t get in my way. Someone who’ll keep this business.”

He pauses, watching your reaction carefully. “You don’t seem like the type to get tangled in the drama. You just need help. And that’s the kind of deal I can work with.”

You feel a lump form in your throat. It’s true—he's offering you a way out of a sinking ship. A home. Security. All the things that have been slipping through your fingers, one by one. But still, the idea of entering into a fake marriage with Tony Stark? You’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t terrify you. You’ve seen the headlines, the rumors about his womanizing ways. Could you really trust him? Could you even pull this off?

And yet, the alternative is worse. A life of uncertainty.

“Why would anyone believe it?” you ask, biting your lip as you try to find holes in the plan. “I mean…we just met. People will see through it.”

Tony chuckles softly, leaning back in his chair, a picture of relaxed confidence. “Oh, believe me, people will believe it. I’ve built an entire career on controlling the narrative. I know how to spin a story. We’ll have a whirlwind romance, some well-placed public appearances, maybe a dramatic proposal. Before you know it, the world will be eating out of our hands.”

You inhale sharply, your mind still racing. Everything about this feels so…surreal. And yet, as crazy as it sounds, it’s starting to make sense. At least from a practical standpoint.

Tony watches you closely, as though sensing the shift in your thoughts. “Look, I’m not asking you to love me, or even like me,” he says, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “This is just an arrangement. You get what you need, I get what I need. And once it’s done, you walk away with enough money to start a new life, debt-free. No strings attached.”

The words no strings attached seem to echo in your mind. You swallow hard, looking down at your hands as you twist them nervously in your lap. It’s a cold, transactional proposal. And yet…you can’t deny that it makes sense.

“What’s the catch?” you ask quietly. There has to be one. With someone like Tony Stark, there’s always a catch.

He tilts his head slightly, considering your question before shrugging. “The only catch is that for a while, you’ll be living in my world. That means the media, the attention, and probably some uncomfortable dinners with people who think they’re more important than they are. It won’t be easy.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you weigh your options. It’s not like you have many left. The thought of staying in this small, cramped room, waiting for the inevitable eviction, is unbearable. And as much as the idea of marrying Tony Stark terrifies you, it also feels like a lifeline being thrown at the last possible second.

“So?” Tony leans forward, his gaze steady on yours. “What do you say?”

You bite your lip, the papers in your hand crinkling slightly under your grip. This might be your last chance. Your final way out.

“Alright,” you whisper, barely believing the words coming out of your mouth. “I’ll do it.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across Tony’s face, and he extends his hand across the desk. “Then we’ve got a deal.”

You stare at his hand for a moment before slowly reaching out to shake it, sealing the arrangement that’s about to change your life in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.

As your hand clasps his, the weight of what you've just agreed to settles in. You're about to become Mrs. Stark — at least for the world to see. And as daunting as that may be, it’s still better than the alternative.

You meet his gaze, feeling a strange mix of fear, excitement, and something else you can’t quite name.

This is only the beginning.

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The next few weeks unfold in a blur of public appearances, carefully crafted smiles, and whispered conversations behind closed doors. You and Tony play the parts well, slipping into the roles of an unexpected, whirlwind romance. The media eats it up.

The first date is a public affair—dinner at a five-star restaurant in downtown Manhattan. The paparazzi are already outside when you arrive, cameras flashing like fireworks as Tony steps out of his sleek black car, offering you a hand. You take it, the warmth of his touch feeling almost foreign despite the fact you’ve grown used to his presence.

You force a smile, heart racing as you hear the shouts of photographers calling out for a picture, for a smile, for a kiss. Tony leans down, whispering in your ear, "You’re doing great. Just breathe."

It’s strange—how natural he makes it seem, how easy it is for him to slip into this version of himself, the attentive, doting boyfriend. To the world, Tony Stark is charming, smooth, and infatuated with you. And you? You’re the mystery woman who somehow captured the billionaire’s heart.

Inside the restaurant, things are a little less chaotic. You sit across from Tony, the intimate lighting making the scene feel more private than it really is. But the cameras are still there, outside the windows, snapping away.

“So,” Tony says, his voice low as he leans in, folding his hands casually on the table. “How’s the food? Pretending to enjoy yourself yet?”

You smirk, rolling your eyes as you push a piece of food around your plate. “Oh, I’m absolutely swooning. Can’t believe how lucky I am to be here with you.”

Tony chuckles, leaning back in his chair, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Good. Keep it up. The more they buy this, the less we have to deal with later.”

It’s a game. A performance. One that you both know the rules to. But as the weeks pass and the dates pile up, something shifts.

The next outing is a stroll through Central Park, and the one after that is a charity gala where Tony's hand rests on the small of your back, guiding you through a sea of high-society types who eye you curiously, wondering what you did to catch the elusive Tony Stark. And despite how staged everything is, there are moments where Tony seems less like the playboy billionaire and more…human. Moments where he cracks a joke, and you find yourself laughing a little too genuinely, or when he holds a door for you, and you catch the briefest flicker of something unguarded in his eyes.

But you’re careful to remind yourself: this is all business. You’re not here to fall for Tony Stark. You’re here to save yourself.

After weeks of these public outings, the media frenzy reaches its peak when Tony finally sets the stage for the proposal. You’ve both discussed it already—how it has to be big, dramatic, a spectacle that leaves no room for doubt.

You're dressed in a stunning gown, attending yet another high-profile charity event. The ballroom is packed, every face in the room belonging to someone rich or influential. The press is buzzing, and you can feel the weight of a thousand eyes on you.

Tony has been his usual charming self all evening, but there’s something different in the way he looks at you tonight. Almost as if this moment means something more to him. You push the thought aside, focusing on playing your part.

Just as the night seems to be winding down, Tony stands, clinking his glass to get everyone’s attention. The room falls silent, and your heart starts to pound. This is it.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tony’s voice is smooth, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’m not usually one for speeches, but tonight, I need to break that habit. Because I have something important to say.”

The crowd watches, captivated, as Tony walks toward you, his steps slow and deliberate. Your breath catches in your throat as he stops in front of you, taking your hand.

“I’ve spent my life building things,” he says, his voice echoing through the room. “My company. My legacy. But in all that time, I never thought I’d find someone who’d make me want to build something else. Something personal. Something real.”

He drops to one knee, and for a second, the world around you seems to freeze. The gasps from the audience are barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. He pulls out a ring, the diamond glittering under the chandeliers.

“I’m asking you, right here, in front of everyone, to make this official. Will you marry me?”

It’s all a show, of course. The practiced speech, the perfectly timed down-on-one-knee moment. But as you stare down at him, ring in hand, something about it feels too real. His eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, you forget that this is all a charade.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to remember the contract, the deal you made in private. This isn’t real. It never was. It’s just for the cameras, for the board, for the company. But still, you manage to smile as you nod.

“Yes,” you say softly, the word slipping from your lips like it belongs to another version of you. “I’ll marry you.”

The room erupts into applause, but you barely hear it. Tony slips the ring onto your finger, standing to pull you into an embrace. His arms wrap around you, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “Perfect. Now they’ll back off.”

Behind closed doors, things are starkly different. The moment you leave the public eye, Tony is already in his office, the papers spread out on his desk. You stand beside him, the diamond ring on your finger suddenly feeling heavy, reminding you of the weight of the bargain you’ve struck.

Tony flips through the pages with a calm, focused expression, glancing at you briefly. “Three years,” he says, tapping the contract. “That’s the timeline. We stay married, let the public eat it up, and after three years, we go our separate ways.”

You nod, staring at the paperwork. Your eyes catch the clause that’s been added in bold: Upon the dissolution of the marriage, Y/N will receive a sum sufficient to cover all debts and ensure financial stability for the foreseeable future.

“Once the board sees I’ve settled down, they’ll loosen their grip. By the time we’re done, you’ll have more than enough to start fresh,” Tony continues, his voice businesslike. “No strings attached. Clean break.”

You sign the papers without hesitation, feeling a strange mix of relief and something else—something you can’t quite name—as your pen scratches across the line. This is what you agreed to. It’s what you need.

But as you set the pen down, you catch Tony’s gaze, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he feels it too. The tension between what’s real and what’s part of the arrangement. The way his touch lingers a little longer than necessary when the cameras aren’t around. The way his eyes sometimes soften when they meet yours.

But before you can dwell on it, he stands, slipping the contract into a folder. “We’re good to go,” he says, his tone brisk again. “Now let’s give them the show of a lifetime.”

And so, with the contract signed and the terms laid out, you walk back into the world together—Tony Stark’s fiancée, destined for a picture-perfect marriage that will end exactly when it’s supposed to. Three years from now, you’ll walk away with everything you need.

Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

The galas become routine, a swirl of elegant gowns, expensive champagne, and the murmur of voices in rooms filled with wealth and influence. You’ve perfected the role by now—Tony’s perfect fiancée, charming, poised, always ready with a smile and the practiced story of how you two “met.”

The backstory you and Tony crafted is flawless, and it’s become second nature to you. You met at a charity event, of course. Something respectable, something that would explain why a billionaire like Tony Stark would fall for a woman like you—someone who wasn’t already a fixture of his high-society world.

Tonight’s gala is no different. The room is packed with the usual mix of celebrities, business moguls, and old-money aristocrats. You stand beside Tony, your arm linked through his as you make your way through the crowd, the warm glow of chandeliers overhead. Tony’s hand rests on the small of your back, and even though it’s all part of the act, you can’t ignore the comfort of his presence anymore.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice draws your attention, and you turn to see a woman with a dazzling smile approaching. She’s dripping in diamonds, her manicured hand clutching a flute of champagne. “You two look amazing tonight. I swear, every time I see you, you just glow more. It’s like you were made to be by Tony’s side.”

You smile graciously, the practiced ease of it making you feel a little guilty. “Thank you, that’s so kind.”

She leans in, eyes twinkling. “I just love your story. It’s so romantic! I mean, meeting at a charity gala and then falling in love like that? It’s like something out of a movie. How lucky are you?”

Lucky. You bite back the irony of that word, nodding instead. “It was unexpected, but…fate works in mysterious ways, right?”

“Oh, definitely! Tony must’ve been swept off his feet the moment he saw you,” she says with a conspiratorial wink, clearly enjoying the idea of the elusive Tony Stark being anything but untouchable.

You glance at Tony, who’s deep in conversation with some business associates nearby, the cool confidence never leaving his face. You know the truth behind that first meeting—how he found you when you were at your lowest, desperate and vulnerable. But none of these people will ever know that. To them, this is a fairy tale. And you? You’re the lucky girl who got to marry the prince.

Another couple approaches, and the cycle begins again. Compliments, questions about the wedding, and endless retellings of your "love story." You smile through it all, playing your part perfectly, while Tony occasionally sends a reassuring glance your way. He knows how exhausting these events can be, but it’s all part of the plan. You keep up the charade for the media, the board, and everyone else who needs to believe this romance is real.

The wedding comes faster than you expected. After months of public appearances, interviews, and carefully orchestrated photo ops, the big day is finally here. It’s everything the world expects it to be—grand, lavish, and utterly flawless.

The ceremony takes place in a sprawling estate, the gardens decorated with flowers that seem to stretch on for miles. The guest list is as exclusive as it gets—celebrities, politicians, business moguls. The kind of wedding that would dominate headlines for weeks, exactly as planned.

You stand in front of a full-length mirror, staring at yourself in the wedding gown. It’s breathtaking, really. The lace and silk hug your body perfectly, the veil trailing behind you like something out of a dream. It should feel like a fantasy, but there’s something surreal about the whole thing.

Pepper walks in, smiling softly at you as she adjusts your veil. “You look beautiful,” she says, her voice gentle. “Everything’s set. The press is buzzing already.”

You nod, taking a deep breath as you stare at your reflection, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach. This is it. The moment where you and Tony take your fake relationship to the next level in the eyes of the world.

Pepper gives you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before stepping out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The ceremony begins, and you make your way down the aisle, each step feeling heavier than the last. Your heart pounds in your chest as you see Tony standing at the altar, looking impossibly dashing in his tailored suit. His eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, the world around you fades.

You force a smile, reminding yourself this is all part of the plan. But as you approach him, something changes. The look in his eyes is different—there’s a softness there, a vulnerability you haven’t seen before. It throws you off guard, and suddenly, you’re not so sure if this is just an act anymore.

The officiant begins, and you stand there, hand in hand with Tony, reciting the vows you both know are meant to be temporary. But with each word spoken, the lines between what’s real and what’s pretend blur just a little more.

“I, Anthony, take you, Y/N, to be my lawfully wedded wife…”

His voice is steady, but there’s something in his tone that makes your breath catch. You stare at him, searching his face for any sign that he’s just playing the part like you are. But in this moment, with the whole world watching, it almost feels like something else.

“I, Y/N, take you, Anthony, to be my lawfully wedded husband…”

The words slip from your lips, and as you say them, they feel heavier than you expected. Your heart beats faster as Tony’s thumb brushes lightly over the back of your hand. The gesture is so small, so intimate, that for a moment you forget everything—the contract, the deal, the carefully planned charade.

The officiant asks if there are any objections, and the crowd is silent, holding their collective breath. You can feel Tony’s eyes on you, and when he lifts your veil, the world seems to slow.

He leans in, his lips brushing yours, and for that brief, fleeting moment, it feels real. The kiss is soft, hesitant, as if neither of you are sure where the line between pretend and reality is anymore. The applause erupts, but all you can hear is the pounding of your own heartbeat.

You pull away, your eyes locking with his, and for just a second, there’s something unspoken between you. Something that neither of you are willing to admit.

But then the moment passes, and Tony’s signature smirk returns as he lifts your hand, showing off the ring to the crowd. The cameras flash, the guests cheer, and just like that, you’re Mrs. Stark—at least in the eyes of the world.

As the reception begins, you can’t shake the feeling that something changed between you two at that altar. Something neither of you expected. But before you can dwell on it too much, Tony is by your side, his arm slipping around your waist as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Stark. You’ve officially survived the hardest part.” His tone is playful, but when you glance up at him, there’s a flicker of something deeper in his gaze.

You force a smile, nodding as you look out over the sea of guests. You’ve done it. You’ve played your part perfectly.

But deep down, you can’t help but wonder: Was it all still just an act? Or did something real happen between you and Tony in that brief, unguarded moment?

You push the thought aside, reminding yourself of the contract, of the plan. In three years, this will all be over, and you’ll walk away debt-free, just as promised.

But for now, you’re Mrs. Stark. And for better or for worse, that’s the role you have to play.

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The first few months of marriage pass in a delicate dance of closeness and distance. You and Tony keep up appearances for the press and the public, playing your parts to perfection. The media can't get enough of the two of you—the glamorous, whirlwind couple that keeps everyone talking. But behind closed doors, things are changing. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the boundaries of your arrangement begin to blur.

At home, away from the cameras and prying eyes, Tony is different. It starts with small gestures. He brings you coffee in the mornings, just the way you like it, without you ever asking. You catch him looking at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, his expression softer than the public version of Tony Stark. It’s in the way he lingers when you pass each other in the hallway, his hand brushing yours just a little longer than necessary, his gaze lingering a little too long.

The nights spent in the massive Stark Tower feel less like a performance and more like something genuine. You find yourselves talking late into the night—about everything, about nothing. Sometimes it’s about work, other times it’s about things neither of you have shared with anyone else. Tony talks about his parents, about how lonely it was growing up despite all the wealth and success. You open up about your life before all of this, the struggles, the dreams you gave up on, and the ones you still hope for.

There are moments when it almost feels real—like you’re not playing a part anymore. Moments when Tony’s laugh is so genuine, so unguarded, that you forget this is all temporary. There are nights when he falls asleep next to you on the couch after watching some terrible movie you both made fun of the entire time, his arm slung over the back of the sofa, just barely touching you. And when he stirs in his sleep and pulls you a little closer, you don’t pull away.

You tell yourself it’s still part of the arrangement—that none of this changes the contract or the plan. But deep down, you know better. This isn’t just about saving his reputation anymore. Somewhere along the line, things got complicated.

But as the months pass, the press starts to ask questions. At first, they’re subtle—tiny, whispered headlines about the perfect couple, alluding to the next big story. “Stark Wedding Still the Talk of the Town,” they say. But then, the speculation begins to shift.

“When are the Starks Starting a Family?” The headline is plastered on the front of every tabloid, and soon it’s the only thing people want to know.

You notice it at the galas, in the way people casually ask about your future plans with a knowing smile, as if it’s only a matter of time before you announce a pregnancy.

“Any little Starks running around soon?” A woman asks you one night at an event, her voice dripping with curiosity as she sips her champagne. You force a smile, your practiced response already prepared.

“Oh, we’re just enjoying married life for now,” you say, deflecting the question as you’ve done a hundred times before. But it’s getting harder to avoid. The press is relentless, constantly speculating about why you and Tony haven’t started a family yet.

And then one night, during a quiet dinner at home, Tony brings it up.

“We need to address this,” he says, setting down his wine glass and looking at you seriously. “The whole ‘when are you having kids’ thing. It’s becoming an issue.”

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a knot of tension forming in your chest. “What do you mean?”

“The press. The board. Hell, even Pepper has been asking me about it.” He leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “They think if we don’t at least make it look like we’re planning to have kids, the whole marriage thing starts looking fake.”

You swallow, the weight of his words settling in. You’ve known this day would come—that eventually, people would start to question the validity of your marriage if they didn’t see the next logical step. But you didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Or to feel so…complicated.

“And what do you want to do about it?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

Tony looks at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. “We can’t have kids. Not under this arrangement,” he says, his voice careful, measured. “That’s too far. We’ve been keeping everything business, and that… that’s different.”

You nod, relief and something else—something like disappointment—washing over you. The idea of having a child with Tony never even crossed your mind. It would complicate everything, not just the contract but your own tangled feelings.

“But,” Tony continues, his tone shifting as if he’s trying to solve one of his impossible engineering problems, “we could make it look like we’re…trying. Just enough to keep people off our backs.”

You stare at him, feeling a strange tightness in your chest. The idea of pretending to try for a family seems too intimate, too close to something real. But you understand what he’s saying. It’s part of the performance. Just like everything else.

“And what does that look like?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

Tony shrugs, but there’s an edge of discomfort to his usually confident demeanor. “We drop a few hints. Let the media speculate. Maybe mention something in an interview about how we’re not ruling it out. We don’t have to do anything drastic, just… give them something to talk about.”

You nod, knowing that it’s the logical next step. But as you sit there, staring at him across the table, you can’t shake the feeling that pretending to plan a family feels more dangerous than anything else you’ve done so far. Because even though the idea of kids has never been part of the equation, the thought of what that implies—what it means for the two of you—makes your heart race.

The truth is, things have changed between you and Tony. You’re not just business partners playing a role anymore. Somewhere along the way, you’ve become…something else. And the thought of what that might mean, of what you could become, scares you more than anything.

Tony watches you carefully, as if he’s trying to gauge your reaction. For a moment, there’s silence between you, thick with unspoken things. And then he says, almost too softly, “This isn’t what either of us signed up for. I know that. But… I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”

You look at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. It’s the closest either of you has come to acknowledging that things between you have become more complicated than just a contract.

“I’m okay with it,” you say quietly, though you’re not sure if that’s entirely true. But it’s the only answer you can give right now. “We can give them something to talk about. We’ve handled worse, right?”

Tony’s smile is small, almost sad, and for a brief moment, you wonder what would happen if things were different—if this weren’t just an arrangement. If the feelings that had started to bloom between you weren’t confined by the terms of a contract set to expire in three years.

But you push the thought away, telling yourself that none of this can be real. Not the lingering touches, not the late-night conversations, not the way your heart skips a beat when Tony’s gaze lingers on you a little too long.

Because it’s all still part of the plan. Isn’t it?

The press will get their story about you and Tony “trying for a family,” and you’ll continue to play your part. But behind closed doors, where the cameras can’t reach, the lines between performance and reality are growing more and more blurred.

And neither of you seems quite sure where one ends and the other begins anymore.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The media frenzy never really stops. Every event, every gala, every time you and Tony are seen in public, the question of starting a family hangs in the air like a cloud, waiting to burst. At first, you both handle it with practiced ease—hinting at possibilities, making vague remarks about enjoying married life for now. The press eats it up, but as the months drag on, the whispers grow louder.

“Are the Starks having trouble conceiving?” “Is there tension in the Stark household?”

The headlines shift from speculation about when you’ll have children to rumors about why you haven’t yet. It’s a delicate dance, one that requires both you and Tony to show the right amount of affection in public, but with subtle hints of strain.

You both knew this would happen. The plan was to invent a story, an excuse that would explain why the perfect couple—the marriage that saved Tony’s reputation—was struggling to take that next step. And so, the story was crafted. You and Tony were “trying,” but it wasn’t working out. The media took the bait, sympathy replacing the pressure, as reporters switched from prying into your marriage to speculating about the emotional toll of fertility struggles.

It’s a brilliant strategy, really. The public buys it, the board of directors remains satisfied that Tony’s personal life is still under control, and you keep the illusion alive. But behind closed doors, things are different. The tension between you and Tony isn’t from some fabricated difficulty of trying for children—it’s from the unspoken truth neither of you can fully face.

Time is running out.

Three years. That was the deal.

You and Tony sit in front of the fireplace in the penthouse one night, the crackling warmth filling the space as the two of you remain lost in your own thoughts. The contract’s expiration date is approaching, looming over both of you like a shadow.

Tony leans back in his chair, his drink untouched beside him. He’s been quieter lately, more thoughtful, but you chalk it up to the usual pressures of running Stark Industries. Or at least, you tell yourself that’s all it is. But deep down, you know something has shifted. It’s been building slowly, a subtle tension, one you can’t quite place but feel all the same.

“You know,” Tony says suddenly, breaking the silence, “we’ve been doing a hell of a job keeping this thing going.” His voice is casual, but there’s an edge to it, a seriousness that pulls at something inside you.

You nod, turning to face him. “Yeah, we have.”

“And the press,” he continues, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “They’ve got their story. We’ve given them everything they need. Sympathy, speculation, the whole package.”

You know where this is going, and the weight in your chest tightens. He’s bringing it up—the end. The divorce. The part of the plan that always seemed so far away, until now. You’ve kept the charade alive for years, and now it’s time to walk away, just like you agreed.

“Right,” you say softly, your voice catching in your throat.

But Tony doesn’t stop there. He stands, pacing slightly, his hands shoved in his pockets. His brow is furrowed, his face caught in that thoughtful expression he gets when he’s working through something complicated.

“Look, we’ve played this game long enough. And you’ve held up your end. More than held up your end, actually.” He pauses, glancing at you. “So, we could, you know…call it.”

You stare at him, feeling the weight of the conversation settle heavily on your shoulders. This is it. The moment where everything unravels, where you go back to being two people with separate lives.

But Tony isn’t looking at you with the same confidence he usually has when he’s broaching a difficult subject. He seems…uncertain. As if he’s weighing something deeper, something he hasn’t fully admitted yet.

You take a breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah. That’s what we agreed on, right?”

There’s a pause. Tony walks over to the window, staring out at the city below. His reflection is visible in the glass, but his expression is unreadable.

“We did,” he says, but the conviction in his voice is missing.

You watch him, waiting for him to say something more, to tell you what’s really on his mind. The silence between you stretches, the unspoken things hanging heavy in the air. It’s as if both of you are waiting for the other to say what neither of you is ready to admit.

“Tony…” you start, but he cuts you off, turning to face you, his eyes more serious than you’ve ever seen them.

“Y/N, I don’t think I can do this.”

Your heart skips a beat. For a moment, you’re not sure what he means. “Do what?”

He steps closer, his gaze locking onto yours, intense and raw. “Divorce you. Let you go. Walk away and pretend like none of this ever happened.”

The air between you shifts, charged with a tension that’s been building for months, maybe longer. Tony’s words hang there, vulnerable and exposed, and it hits you all at once—this isn’t just about the deal anymore.

“Tony…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

He closes the distance between you, his hands reaching for yours, his grip warm and strong. “I know this wasn’t part of the plan. I know we were supposed to walk away after three years and never look back, but…” He pauses, swallowing hard. “But I don’t want that.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Tony’s eyes search yours, his expression raw in a way you’ve never seen before. The walls he always keeps up, the armor he wears in public, are completely gone now.

“This thing between us, it’s not just for show anymore. I thought I could keep it separate—business and personal—but I can’t. I care about you. And I know we agreed that this was temporary, but it doesn’t feel temporary to me anymore.”

The truth you’ve been avoiding, denying to yourself for so long, crashes over you. It’s not just him. It’s you, too. Somewhere along the way, between the public dates and the private moments, the late-night conversations and the quiet mornings, you’ve fallen for him. Despite all your attempts to keep this arrangement strictly professional, you’ve found yourself caring more than you ever thought possible.

You stare at him, your heart racing. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” He exhales, his voice softening. “I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. I don’t want to walk away from this. From us.” He pauses, his gaze never leaving yours. “I love you.”

It feels like the world stops for a moment. His words hang in the air between you, and you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

Your hand tightens around his, your voice trembling slightly as you reply, “I love you too, Tony.”

It’s the first time either of you has admitted it, the first time you’ve said it out loud. And suddenly, everything clicks into place. This was never just an arrangement, not for either of you. Somewhere along the way, it became real.

Tony steps closer, cupping your face with his hands, his eyes soft and full of emotion. “Then let’s forget the contract. Forget the plan. Let’s do this for real.”

You nod, tears welling up in your eyes as you lean into him, his lips brushing yours in a tender, genuine kiss. The kiss feels like a promise, like the beginning of something you’ve both been building toward without even realizing it.

The contract, the public charade, the expectations—it all falls away. This isn’t about saving Tony’s reputation anymore. It’s about the two of you, finally being honest with yourselves, and with each other.

You pull back slightly, smiling through the tears. “No more pretending.”

“No more pretending,” Tony agrees, his smile mirroring yours as he kisses you again, this time with the weight of everything left unsaid now spoken. The future no longer feels like a ticking clock or an obligation to a deal. It feels like a life you’ve both chosen—together.

The night Tony confesses his love changes everything. The walls that once separated the two of you—the boundaries of your arrangement—come crashing down. That night, for the first time, everything feels real, not just in your hearts but in the way you move together, shedding the last vestiges of the deal that brought you into each other's lives.

After Tony’s confession, the two of you barely make it to the bedroom, too consumed by the need to be closer, to feel each other in a way that wasn’t hidden behind performance or pretense. His lips trace over your skin, soft but insistent, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you. You respond with equal intensity, your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as your bodies mold together effortlessly. The chemistry that’s been building for so long, simmering beneath the surface, finally explodes into something overwhelming, passionate, and real.

That night is unlike anything you’ve experienced with Tony before. It’s not about appearances or duty—it’s about desire, love, and the raw, unspoken connection you’ve always felt but never fully acknowledged. In every kiss, every touch, there’s an unspoken promise of a future you both want—a future no longer bound by a contract.

You spend the night wrapped in each other’s arms, the lines between where you end and Tony begins blurred in a way that makes you feel whole.

Months later, everything feels different. The weight of the contract, the looming deadline—it’s all gone now. You and Tony are free, not just from the obligations of your arrangement, but from the barriers you put up to protect yourselves. And it feels good. Better than good.

The press still follows your every move, but now, when you’re photographed together, it’s not an act. You’re truly in love, and it shows in every stolen glance, every casual touch.

And then, something else shifts. A few months after that unforgettable night, you notice something’s changed—within you. At first, you dismiss it, but as the signs become more obvious, the truth hits you like a tidal wave. You’re pregnant.

Telling Tony is a moment you’ll never forget. He’s in his workshop when you find him, hunched over some new project, completely immersed in his work. You’re nervous, but when you say the words, his reaction is everything you could have hoped for. He freezes for a moment, blinking as if he didn’t hear you correctly.

“Wait, what?” He straightens up, his eyes wide, his face a mixture of shock and awe. “Are you serious?”

You nod, unable to keep the smile from spreading across your face. “Yeah. We’re having a baby.”

For the first time since you’ve known him, Tony Stark is speechless. He just stares at you, his expression softening before he breaks into a grin. And then he crosses the room in two strides, scooping you up into his arms, spinning you around as he laughs—really, genuinely laughs.

“We’re having a baby,” he repeats, his voice filled with wonder.

The night of the gala is perfect. The two of you arrive hand in hand, the press buzzing around you as always, but this time there’s something different in the air. You haven’t made the announcement yet, but tonight is the night.

You wear a stunning dress, custom-made to skim over the subtle curve of your belly. It’s not obvious yet, but you know the media will spot the signs—sharp eyes never miss a detail. And when you and Tony take the stage, everyone’s watching.

Tony steps up to the microphone, his usual swagger in full effect. “So, I know you’ve all been wondering,” he starts, flashing that charming grin of his, “about when the Starks are finally going to have some big news to share.”

The crowd murmurs in anticipation, cameras flashing as the press leans in, hanging on his every word.

He turns to you, his gaze softening as he reaches for your hand. “Well, the wait’s over. Y/N and I are expecting our first child.”

The room erupts in applause, gasps and cheers filling the air as the cameras go wild. Tony pulls you into his side, kissing your temple as you both beam at the crowd, the love between you palpable.

After the announcement, the two of you make your rounds, mingling with the guests, accepting congratulations, and soaking in the joy of the moment. But later, when the two of you finally find a quiet corner, away from the crowd, Tony’s hand rests on your belly, his thumb tracing slow circles over the fabric of your dress.

“So,” he says, his voice low, filled with affection, “what do you think? Boy or girl?”

You laugh, leaning into him. “I don’t know. But I have a feeling they’re going to have your charm and your appetite for chaos.”

Tony grins, his hand moving to cradle your face. “Lucky for them, they’ll have your heart and patience to balance it out.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Let’s just hope they don’t inherit your knack for getting into trouble.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer. “Hey, trouble is part of the Stark legacy.”

You smirk, resting your hand on top of his. “Well, as long as they don’t inherit your driving skills, we’ll be fine.”

Tony gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “My driving skills are impeccable! You love my driving.”

You give him a look, raising an eyebrow. “I love you, Tony. Your driving… not so much.”

He laughs, leaning in to kiss you softly, and for a moment, the world outside fades away. It’s just the two of you—together, happy, and ready for whatever comes next.

As the night winds down, Tony pulls you aside once more, his lips close to your ear as he whispers, “I can’t believe this is our life now. I can’t believe we’re doing this—for real.”

You smile, your heart swelling with love as you whisper back, “Neither can I. But I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else.”

And with that, Tony leans down, pressing a playful kiss to your belly before looking up at you with a mischievous grin. “Just so you know, the kid’s first words are totally going to be ‘Iron Man.’”

You burst out laughing, swatting his arm. “Not if I have anything to say about it!”

Tony winks, pulling you into his arms. “We’ll see about that, Mrs. Stark. We’ll see.”

I hope you liked this story! <3

[sparrowsoupp]

so a ‘swiftpaw lives’ au is nothing new here BUT hear me out:

in this au, everything happens as it does in the first arc up to the night where swiftpaw and brightpaw sneak out of camp to fight the dogs. as they are leaving, cloudtail somehow sees/hears/notices and is obviously suspicious so trails them into the forest secretly.

as they get closer to the dogs’ den he realises their plan and confronts the pair, trying to get them to return to camp. swiftpaw is defiant and argues back, escalating into a fight as cloudtail tries to physically knock some sense into swiftpaw. brightpaw looks on in horror trying to break up this fight. this is obviously not a very quiet battle, considering the participants are two bullheaded teenage boys, and so the dogs are woken up anyway.

swiftpaw leaps into action as brightheart freezes in paralysing fear. as a dog lunges at her, cloudtail notices and leaps into the dog’s jaws, pushing brightpaw out of the way in the process. in a burst of fear and strength, brightpaw notices swiftpaw unconcious and unable to move with a missing leg and grabs him to run away, escaping from the dogs and leaving cloudtail to bleed out and die (hence the main catalyst for differences in this au: cloudtail dies in swiftpaw’s place). she doesn’t realise this at the time, hoping cloudtail will understand since he is still up and fighting, and not thinking about the consequences of leaving one cat alone to fight a pack of dogs.

bluestar renames them in the same way lostface was named in the original arc, brightpaw being renamed lostface and swiftpaw being named dogleg, and fireheart is ANGRY with the pair (and himself) for the needless loss of his nephew’s life. no renaming ceremony is held, and they are made to keep their names in rememberance of their foolishness. (sidenote: i think this would also spark a major shift in fireheart’s good nature and personality, leading to MAJOR knockon effects for the rest of the series, but i haven’t thought about it too much yet and also i need to reread the books) and because cloudtail isn’t around to advocate for lostface’s warrior retraining, she is relegated to be a medicine cat and never really emotionally recovers in the same way she could in the books because cloudtail isn’t around to offer her that emotional support. she also very much blames herself for letting him fight a battle that he never signed up to fight and dying in the process, the overwhelming levels of guilt weighing on her constantly to the point where cats are a little creeped out by how empty even her remaining eye looks.

on the other hand (paw?), dogleg is left seething with anger and bitterness towards his clan. (i imagine him after the attack as a somewhat ashfur-like character, except much more extreme) a lot of his toxicity and anger would be taken out on lostface, one of the only cats he talks to anymore, and instead of brightheart and cloudtail entering a very healthy and positive relationship instead lostface ends up in a secret (VERY toxic) relationship with dogleg. she remains attached to him i think because of the trauma they experienced together. i have to think more about that, though. (maybe even kits?)

in the end something something dogleg forces lostface to start poisoning food as the clan’s medicine cat to take revenge on other cats like bluestar or fireheart. i think this culminates in dogleg turning very traitorous somehow.

that’s what i have so far! feel free to sends asks/tag with suggestions or ideas of knockon effects of this change. thanks for reading this big ol paragraph of me rambling about cats lol, appreciate y’all 🦭👍

[sunny44]

What about us (Part 3)

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of retirement

Summary: deep talks and discussions about Lewis’ future.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The days that followed the Monaco Grand Prix were a mix of tranquil moments and shared laughter. Lewis, seemingly rejuvenated by his unexpected victory, began to engage more with Harley and me. The burden that had weighed on his shoulders seemed to dissipate, replaced by a newfound lightness.

One evening, after putting Harley to bed, Lewis and I found ourselves on the balcony again, the city below us bathed in the soft glow of streetlights.

"I never expected to win that race," he admitted, his eyes fixed on the distant lights. "But being on the podium... I felt something different this time."

I leaned against the railing, watching him closely.

"Different how?" He hesitated, then met my gaze.

"I realized that my identity isn't exclusively defined by Formula 1. Even though people might know me just as a driver, I feel like I'm more than that. There's more to life, more to me. I was so caught up in the pursuit of success and winning again that I forgot about other aspects of living."

"Like what?"

"The woman I love and our daughter." He smiled, and I sat on his lap as we embraced.

A gentle breeze carried the scent of the sea, and I felt a subtle shift in the air, as if transformation were settling into our lives.

"You know you're much more than the Mercedes driver, right?" He looked at me and nodded. "You're a great person, always supporting those you love, putting others' needs before yours without resentment. And above all, you're the best father Harley could have. So, never define yourself solely as a Formula 1 driver because you're so much more than that."

"Thank you for that; you don't know how important it is for me to hear you say that." He tucked a strand of hair that fell on my face behind my ear. "I don't need much, just my girls."

…

In the days that followed, Lewis began exploring more interests beyond racing and his usual routine. He joined my work events, attended Harley's school performances, took her to the park and spent afternoons playing with her and Roscoe, returning home sweaty, tired, and hungry.

On a weekend, we decided to take a spontaneous trip to the countryside outside London, away from the streets and the bustling life of Monaco. Surrounded by nature, we had a moment of peace, just watching the trees, feeling the breeze on our faces, and enjoying family time before the second part of the racing season resumed.

As we walked through a sunlit field, Lewis turned to me with a sincere expression.

"I've been thinking about what comes next. For us."

I listened, feeling a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

"I want to be there for Harley, for you. These past few weeks where I could be her dad 100% of the time, driving her to school and spending the whole day with her, made me realize that I want this to be more recurring in my life. But I also want to explore this new chapter, whatever it brings."

"And what does that mean?"

"It means I'm considering stepping back from racing full-time and embracing a different pace of life."

His words hung in the air, and I sensed the significance of the moment. It was a crossroads, a juncture where our paths could diverge or converge.

"Are you sure?"

"I’m not, actually."

"You know you don't have to stop for our sake."

"But I feel that because of this, I haven't spent enough time with you guys." He looked at Harley running and laughing with Roscoe. "I feel like I've missed so much of her life and yours during the time we were apart, and I don't want that anymore."

"Love, you didn't miss that time because of your career but because we weren't living together. I know you want to spend more time with us, and we'll figure out how to make that happen. Formula 1 is your life, and..."

"You and Harley are my life." He interrupted me.

"And you're ours, but I don't want you to make this decision without really thinking about it. I don't want you to resent leaving and finding that the quieter life isn't what you imagined. But let's not talk about it now, okay? Let's enjoy the rest of our break, and if, by the end of the season, you still feel the same and want to step back, we'll be here for you. We can navigate this together, and whatever you choose, we'll face it as a family."

Those two weeks were what we needed to relax and sort out our lives, and we decided to live together. We had an open conversation about our future, and one of the things we wanted was to spend more time as a family. As we don't have a typical life, any time we have together, we want to make the most of it.

So, the best thing to do was to move back into the same house. Harley and I moved into Lewis's apartment. In reality, there were still many things left for a complete move. The time we had before Lewis had to travel again was too short, and we could only bring our clothes.

"Mommy, where's Daddy?" I heard her ask as soon as she entered the kitchen.

"He's still sleeping."

"What are you doing?" Her voice was sleepy, and I felt her cling to my legs.

"I'm making a smoothie; do you want one?" She shook her head and reached out her arms.

I picked her up, and I continued preparing the smoothies. Somehow, Harley fell asleep in my arms amid the noise of the blender.

"Good morning." I heard his husky voice and felt him hug me from behind.

"Good morning."

"Want to give get to me?" I agreed since my arm was numb, and she almost woke up, but I think she felt it was her dad and just hugged him more.

"I missed this so much."

"What?"

"Waking up, and you're the first person I see in the morning." I smiled and gave him a peck, serving the smoothies in glasses.

"I missed this too." I handed him his glass, and he started drinking.

"And you know what's even better?"

"What?"

"The fact that this is the first time we're living together as parents."

That was true; when I found out about the pregnancy, we were no longer together, so this was the first time we were living together as a family.

"It's a bit strange, actually."

"How so?"

"It's just been the two of us for so long that it's still hard to believe that we're finally all together." He smiled. "Do you think she's okay with all of this?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's a huge change for her. We understand the situation because we lived it, but Harley is small, and her whole life has been with us living different lives. So, I'm worried that we're so wrapped up in our love bubble that we might be forgetting her feelings."

"I understand, and I completely agree with what you're saying. I can talk to her later if you want me to."

"I'll talk to her." I said, and he agreed.

"Look, I have to catch a flight to Vegas tonight and then after that to Abhu Dhabi and I don't know if you guys want to come with me or…”

"I don't know; I think it's a bit last minute. We'd have to pack our things and hers, and we have to adapt gradually to this. You know she gets really restless when we have to take flights."

"I know; she doesn't like it much." He agreed. "But, as you said, we have all the time in the world, and we can take it easy."

"We really do." He smiled, and as soon as we finished our smoothies, I washed the glasses, and after he took her upstairs and put her on her bed, we spent some time together on the couch since he would have to travel soon.

Bonus Scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“Lazy days with my favorite girl”

Tag list: @ironmaiden1313 @myloverjk-blog @leoramage @ricciardosheart

[artyandink]

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐱𝐲𝐳 | 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

SUMMARY: You’re the first female president of the USA, having won the 2014 elections against Amara Shurley by a landslide. Now that you were a symbol of feminism, reform and a better country, it meant that there were a lot more assassination attempts bound to be on your head. For that, you needed a personal bodyguard, so you had to pick right. And you picked right in convicted ex-hitman Dean Winchester. Right?

“Oh, honey,” Bella interrupted, waving her hand dramatically. “He totally did. That man looked at you like you were the last piece of chocolate cake at a birthday party. And don’t even get me started on how he stood. You know, all broody and protective, like some kind of…” She trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Alpha wolf guarding his mate,” Steph supplied helpfully.

“Exactly!” Bella snapped her fingers. “Thank you, Steph. That’s exactly the vibe.”

You groaned again, resisting the urge to bang your head against the nearest wall. “You two need help.”

“What we need,” Steph said, grinning wickedly, “is for you to admit that you’ve at least thought about it. Because if you haven’t, you’re lying.”

“I haven’t!” you protested, a little too quickly.

Bella’s eyes lit up like she’d just won the lottery. “Oh my God, you totally have! Look at you—your ears are turning red.”

“Leave me alone,” you muttered, glaring at the floor.

But they weren’t about to let you off the hook.

“Okay, okay,” Steph said, holding up a hand as if to calm the chaos. “Let’s be serious for a second. He’s obviously gorgeous, and clearly there’s some…tension. But what’s the story? Like, how did you even end up with him as your bodyguard? I feel like there’s a Netflix series waiting to happen here.”

You hesitated, weighing how much to tell them. “It’s…complicated. He was recommended through some very high-level channels. Apparently, he’s the best at what he does.”

“And what he does is kill people,” Bella said, her voice dripping with mock solemnity.

You shot her a look. “Not anymore. He’s reformed. He went through a rigorous vetting process before he was even considered for the position.”

Steph tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “So, he’s done bad things, but now he’s protecting the President of the United States. That’s a redemption arc if I’ve ever heard one.”

Bella sighed wistfully. “And he’s doing it all while looking like a Calvin Klein model who got lost on his way to the shoot.”

“Can we not turn this into a thirst-fest?” you pleaded, though you knew it was a losing battle.

TAGLIST: @goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

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©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

[thedovesaredying]

Zombie!Ghost x F!Reader x John "Soap" MacTavish | Teaser

Synopsis: A little taste tester for you all of Ghoap x F!Reader with our bestest boyo, Zombie Ghost uwu. If y'all want any specific scenarios for this pairing then hit me up in the comments or ask box! If anyone wants to be added to a Zombie!Ghost taglist just ping me.

Words: 1,000~

Rating: NSFW (Only brief)

Warnings: Unedited. Mostly just suggestive except for the last few paragraphs. If anything else needs to be added please poke me!

Previous parts:

Smut Part 1

Smut Part 2

Reminder, this is an 18+ account!

Every couple of weeks you and Ghost meet up with the remaining members of the lieutenant’s squad outside of the large base they’ve set up for themselves. You trade supplies with one another and take some time to catch up with good friends. Surviving outside the safety of a survivor camp or base is difficult and having the opportunity to be in relative safety for a few hours is always appreciated.  

You can’t enter the base since the other survivors living there are, understandably, unwilling to share a space with one of the undead. Besides, waving around a bunch of fresh meat right before Ghost’s nose might not be the best idea. He tolerates the presence of his old captain and sergeant, Price and Gaz, and won’t cause them any trouble, but can and will attempt to tear apart anyone unknown.  

Typically, you don’t mind being unable to access the safe zones, you’ve learned over the months how to get by on your own, but you can’t help occasionally longing for the benefits of having access to a community. You miss having friends and family, people you can talk to since Simon isn’t exactly great at holding conversation anymore.  

You’re more than willing to make that sacrifice, however, as you could never abandon the person you love to the outside world just because you sometimes feel a little lonely.  

While Price and Gaz can spend time around Ghost without fear, but have little bearing on how the zombie behaves, Soap is a completely different story. The moment the mohawked man is spotted, your partner is already sprinting across the grass and either near enough tackling the other man to the ground or scooping him up as though the heavily muscled man weighs nothing.  

Ghost’s Johnny simply laughs at the enthusiasm, never hesitating to return the embrace and excitedly starting to talk his old lieutenant’s ear off. He only ever gets a grunt or growl in return for his rambling, but just that tiny response seems to be all Soap needs to hold a discussion.  

The zombie nuzzles his face into the crook of Johnny’s neck the same way he does with you, rumbling away happily, almost shaking with how eager he is to have his hands on his sergeant again. He’s like an excited puppy, panting and sniffing at the Scot’s face. He’ll insistently rub his cheek against Johnny to try and share scents, growling in annoyance whenever the other man attempts to get away.  

Today was no different, and as soon as Ghost saw poor Johnny he was set upon by the zombie, forced to wait several minutes while Simon noses at him. Ghost starts grumbling when he seems to realise that his sergeant no longer smells like him. Like always, he starts dragging the other man away from the base and toward you, pushing him at you with a pleased growl.  

He seems remarkably satisfied now that his two people are within grasping distance, herding the two of you away from the base as quickly as (in)humanly possible. You had agreed previously that Soap would join you and Ghost outside the base walls for a day or two to scavenge new resources.  

Of course, that wasn’t the only reason he was coming with the two of you.  

Originally, you hadn’t considered adding someone new to your relationship, if what you have with Ghost can still be called such, but Johnny slots into place like the missing piece of a puzzle. He’s handsome and kind and funny, with wit sharp as a knife. He’s perhaps the only person who adores Simon as much as you do.  

That affection extends to you, much to Ghost’s complete delight.  

When you aren’t searching for scraps to feed and clothe yourselves, your days together are spent curled up, bodies covered in a thick layer of sweat and other bodily fluids. The three of you make good use of the mattresses you’ve found and stashed away in your little safe house, and have broken the beds in many times over.  

It hurts whenever Johnny eventually has to return to the other survivors. He does important work there and wants to help his teammates, but you can see the way his eyes lose their normal brightness, leaving pools of murky grey in the place of their usual glistening blue.  

It’s heartbreaking watching Ghost stalking the massive walls of the camp, visibly distressed that he can no longer set eyes on the third member of your relationship that’s only just begun to blossom, despite this harsh environment in which it’s flourished. It always takes a fair amount of effort to drag him away from the walls and fences, forcing him to stop searching for a way inside.  

Simon has always had a fairly possessive streak, but his infection has only amplified it. You know that if he were to find a flaw in the barrier between him and the inside of the safe zone then he’d be in there tearing the place to pieces. The zombie doesn’t take kindly to people messing with what’s his.  

You want to bring it up with Johnny, but it’s a little difficult with his tongue currently down your throat. He’s desperate after weeks without either of you, his body pressing you up against the hard chest of Ghost while his hands roam across your skin underneath your shirt. Simon holds your body against him firmly, tongue gently rolling over the side of your neck, teeth dragging dangerously against your vulnerable flesh.  

He allows you to take a mouthful of air, your breathing ragged by the time Johnny’s fingers reach your nipples, giving them both a pinch. His lips are immediately back on yours again, swallowing the surprised sound you make.  

While Soap focuses on caressing your breasts, another set of hands start to slide down your body, snaking into your pants. Although Ghost’s motor skills have deteriorated, he’s still more than capable of seeking out your clit, circling it gently while his other hand dips between your folds to gather the slick steadily gathering between them.  

The sound that draws out of you has Johnny grinning against your mouth. “Ye like tha’, bonnie?” he breathes against your ear, hot air causing goosebumps to appear all down your arms, “we’ll make sure ye feel real good.”  

You’re pretty sure you won’t be doing any walking after this.

[choicesmc]

Jia’s Messy Relationships (part 1 of the romantic edition)

okay so I’ve been trying to do this since solidifying jia’s relationships but it is getting ridiculously long and I have decided to split it into parts <33

it might take several parts to cover jia’s romantic relationships + then a couple more for his platonic + familial ones 😬

Like I said, this is long so under the cut it goes <33

banner by: @/inklore in [this] post

To really understand the tangled web her romantic relationships are (we’ll talk about her mom + her sister afterwards) we need to go all the way back to book 1. 

Following his run in with Gabe, Jiahao felt an instant attraction to him. And I mean instant. From just about the minute he laid eyes on Gabe, Jiahao was down bad. His first couple interactions were flirting with him and being absolutely delighted that Gabe was flirting back. Contrast this to his first meeting with Cas. 

Jia immediately booked Cas as a bad girl and figured she’d never fall for her. …Which made Jia groan upon realizing that she had, in fact, fallen for Cas. During the after-school party that Cas crashed, Jia begrudgingly admitted to herself that Cas was very pretty. By the time Cas was stealing Gabe’s date at the fair, Jia realized she kinda liked the flirty, playful relationship she had with Cas. And just a tad bit after that is when Jia really started worrying that she really had fallen for Cas. 

The problem was this was just about ‘round the same time he’d realized he did not have romantic feelings for Gabe and that Cas and Gabe were, y’know, kinda into each other and that neither of them would act on their feelings if Jia didn’t encourage them and, perhaps most importantly, Jia would need to be dating both of them for his encouragement to work. 

In plain words: she started stringing Gabe on in order to encourage Gabe and Cas’ relationship.

Worse than just stringing, she was actively lying to –gaslighting even– Gabe anytime he picked up on any weird vibes. 

Jia does care about Gabe, that’s the thing. Though she doesn’t like him romantically, she really does care about him. She wants Gabe to be happy and also thinks that if he got together with Cas, then he would be happier than he is now. 

That’s her justification: that this is for the greater good. When it’s all said and done, Gabe and Cas will be together and they’ll be so happy together that they’ll understand why he had to get them together despite the year-plus of lying. 

And this has to work. 

Because once Jia stops to consider the actual reality of what he’s doing, all that left in him is crushing guilt. He knows what he’s doing is wrong but he’d accidentally started and couldn’t stop. 

But, Jia also is used to getting what he wants and being the most important person in a room (especially in a small town like Crimson Beech) so there’s a part of him that just ignores any burgeoning guilt. Why? It can’t be her fault, she’s not… a regular person who can be wrong?? She’s always been right. So she must be right this time too.

But by the end of book 2? Jia can’t anymore. It’s weighing on her, crushing her with the constant need to continue lying so this deck of cards won’t fall. Not just guilt but slow spreading horror! She feels so much like Reagan in those moments and she doesn’t want to be like Reagan of all people! 

Instead of the threesome scene at the end of book 2, Jia confesses. He wasn’t planning to. Rather, as the mood got hotter and it became so so clear where they were heading Jia couldn’t go through. 

Has she stolen kisses? Yes. Replied “I love you” to Gabe while knowing what he means and what Gabe thinks he means are two separate things? Yes. Is he particularly proud of either? No.

She can’t –can’t fuck Gabe while knowing he’s reading more into it than she’s giving. 

So she breaks down crying and it all spills out. How long he’s known he wasn’t into Gabe. How much she thought Cas and Gabe would be good together. How much he stayed together with Gabe in order to bring him closer to Cas. 

And, uh, it goes about as well as expected… 1) Gabe is stunned silent, 2) Cas is pissed, and 3) Jia is ashamed.

[morsking]

I want to see the hypothetical Shinji route that Nasu didn’t get to put in the VN

imo it would be a lot like heaven's feel except i see shinji surviving. i can see this potential shinji is self-actualized at the very end after a grueling process of confronting and coming to terms with his choices, his beliefs, his upbringing, and his interpersonal relationships. it's hard to discuss fsn shinji without examining his ideas concerning gender, envy, power, and entitlement and therefore i see why nasu cut the shinji route. because everything about that is already discussed throughout the vn, most notably in his ubw pov and in heaven's feel. if there's one thing i'd like to say i'm certain of is the climax of a shinji route would very much be like ubw's, where shinji needs to be saved after he's manipulated by zouken/kotomine/gilgamesh else he meet a disproportionately gruesome end.

and the reason why he'd need to be saved then is because the fate franchise as a whole deals with stories where people can shift between hero and villain, angel and monster, and victim and victimizer, saint and murderer at the drop of a hat and shinji is no different. shinji comes from an abusive household, neglected and molded into becoming a hateful reject who would feed sakura darkness to avoid feeling like a failure and accelerate her demise, all so zouken would have the perfect vessel for immortality at the cost of all life of earth. shinji made terrible choices he might never be able to make up for, but his decisions are informed by being born into an awful, chauvinistic family like the matous. in that sense, he is not free from any responsibility, but it's a dynamic meant to make people consider that cruel teenagers come from cruel environments, and a cruel adult is to answer for the existence of a cruel teenager.

shinji's weak and pathetic and he's only powerful insofar as he can exploit sakura's self-loathing to avoid dealing with his own. outside of that, he's crushed by berserker, disfigured by gilgamesh, and easily executed by his own abuse victim the moment she thinks his existence is an unforgivable eyesore. a shinji route would allow him to see just how out of his league he is concerning everything in the mage world like heaven's feel does, but perhaps a closer relationship with shirou might give him the space to weigh the choice to value his life and seek something outside of what he knows. that new insight would allow him to choose to walk away from all of it. he won't know how to make amends with shirou, rin, sakura, and whoever else he's wronged in whatever ways he has, but he'd be willing to not be that person anymore. which is a parallel to how shirou chooses not to be a hero of justice anymore in heaven's feel.

i guess the closest thing we'll ever have to a shinji route is the extraverse, where we do see a shinji who chooses his bonds over his pride and another who chooses to help others who are lost despite being lost and regretful himself.

[seducemefanficsandheadcanons]

Here for you (Sam x Aron)

Trigger warning for descriptions of depression.

Not proof read.

Also posted on AO3 and Wattpad!

Aron couldn't quite place what was wrong. She was stressed, but not anymore than usual. Her boyfriend, Sam, had been as amazing as usual. Her family drama was calm, all things considered. Nothing was truly wrong.

Yet, she found herself stuck in bed for days. At some point, those days turned to weeks. She wasn't sure how long it had been since she left the house for anything outside of necessity, like work. She'd even stopped going on her morning jogs with Sam, their workouts far and few between as of lately. She makes sure he goes and does what he wants, not wanting him to worry about her.

She didn't want to hold him back.

She felt herself slip into a depressive episode every so often. Some were longer and worse than others, and this happened to be one of the worst ones. Typically, she'd have at least enough energy to get up and be with Sam, but at the moment it felt tired to breathe.

“Doofus,” Sam said as he walked into the room, taking in the sight of Aron. She was curled on her side and facing away, blankets pulled tightly around him.

Aron tried not to sniffle as she held back sobs, hoping to give the impression she'd fallen asleep. Sam was able to sense her energy though, the strong depression easily able to be sensed. 

He frowned and climbed into bed behind her, his arms wrapping firmly around her waist and pulling her against his chest. Aron held her breath as she tried not to cry, her eyes clamping shut. She snuggled back against him in her ‘sleep,’ her arms resting over his.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Sam asked her, trying not to seem as worried as he felt.

Aron didn't answer for a few minutes as she weighed her options. She hated worrying him, hated inconveniencing him, hated knowing she was hurting him. But telling him something she couldn't quite understand herself felt so exhausting, but she knew it was the better option, even if it was one of the last things she wanted to do.

Eventually she sighed and shifted in his arms, causing him to loosen his hold more. He watched as she turned around, facing him, her eyes and cheeks wet with tears. 

His lips pulled into a tight frown as one arm moved under her head as a pillow. His other hand came up to her face, his thumb gently brushing the wetness away before he gently began combing his fingers through her purple hair. His fingertips massaged her scalp Soothingly as he waited, infinitely patient for her to start talking.

“I…don't know what it is,” she told him, her chin wobbling. “I just feel shitty, it happens for no reason, and it sucks, and I'm sorry. You don't deserve to be treated the way I'm treating you. You deserve so much more,” her voice broke at the last word, a sob finally escaping her throat as she started to cry more.

He pulled her tighter against him as he shushed her, letting her cry into his chest. He placed soothing kisses on her head and rubbed her back, shushing her softly. “Hey, hey, it's okay. That's not true, alright?”

Sam felt her shake her head. “No, it is. I- I can't- I promise I'm trying. I'm not trying to be a bad person on purpose. I just- I don't know what's wrong with me,” she argued, almost pulling back but letting herself be comforted by his touch.

“Shh, nothing's wrong with you. You aren't a bad person. You're going through a shitty time, but that doesn't make you bad.” 

Aron felt him kiss her head more, holding her close. “I just want to help,” Sam told her. “However, I can. Whether you need to kick my ass to get your anger out, or someone to listen, or if you ever just wanna lay here and play video games to distract you. Whatever it is, I gotcha, I promise.”

Eventually Arons crying calmed down, his words and hold on her comforting. It made her feel safe and sound. 

“Thank you,” she said a few moments later, her voice still raw. 

“Yeah, no problem…” he answered and pressed his lips against her forehead. “I'm here for you, alright? I love you.”

Aron’s blue-green eyes fluttered open to look up at him. She sniffled and managed a very soft smile. Obviously, she knew she wasn't healed. But in Sam's arms with his words, it felt less distressing.

“I love you too, Aomaris.”

[meredoubt]

I really sat with the final choice of Veilguard.

Initially I thought I'd fight him, easily. I knew it wouldn't be trickery for sure, but I was leaning towards fight, for much of the game.

But the more I thought about Dirge's journey, the more that didn't feel...right. He, the individual, the person, hated Fen'harel. He had to, I think, they were diametrically opposed. Oil and water.

It's not about him, though. It's about the view he'd take, the measure, the choice he'd weigh. And Dirge's role as some shade of death.

I'm leaning into my vocation here, or rather, the vocation I am currently studying to be a part of: deathcare. It's early days yet, so, grain of salt. I have a lot of learning and growing to do. But by necessity, it makes you take a step back from your own emotions on individual people. From if they were good, evil. These are not useful qualifiers. They cannot be harmed by your good or bad opinion anymore. Your hate means nothing, your sorrow. They are gone. They are free of it all. Returned, to eventually be whatever those atoms will be next.

They lived. That is...a miracle. In some small way, each being, each cell that has ever been has allowed a chance for an unknowing universe to comprehend some infinitesimal fraction of the whole, however briefly. That has come to an end. But how rare and fortunate. Even the meanest, smallest, pettiest thing experienced some version of...the only holy thing, as far as I feel. I know there are other opinions on it. But that's my own.

Dirge, through his brutal work, through his memories of Falon'din, through Emmrich, understands this, in some way. He wouldn't ever say it. But he knows it, feels it, in the same way you might instinctively know anything. He has known death since a young age and has plenty of time to consider his role in it, even as it shifted and changed.

He hated Fen'harel. But the Evanuris are done, in their current forms, at least. Their influence will remain. The Veil is secure, the Fade intact, the living world safe. The fragment within him purrs, sated to some extant, content. It has been changed by being in mortal form, tempered by elven beliefs about the role of Falon'din. The title of the game is apt. He has guarded what mattered most to him. Protected the world of the living and spirits. Nature, the balance. The order, is safe.

So at the moment when he knows whatever happens next, Solas will secure the Veil in one way or another...the hatred drains out of him. He's exhausted. The Dread Wolf is exhausted. This fight has been going on for longer than he or his body remembers, and he has won. But he is...so tired. And sad. And...hopeful, for the living. More hopeful than he is angry.

And so i think he relents. Dirge sees himself as sheparding the Dread Wolf along to whatever his next path is. G-d of change and transformation, after all, no matter how much he chafes under it. Emmrich, and Mirele (Lavellan), and Morrigan convinced him. Emmrich's argument that, as a spirit, Fen'harel needed to be urged to his nature, ironically probably did the same thing to Dirge, to the fragment. It soothed away some of the mortal spite, gave him...perspective.

I think to care for the dead, you must hold love for the living and for history. And the Evanuris are, will be, history. This is the passing of more than the Dread Wolf. You don't always love people, necessarily-there are many i dislike-and yet...I care. Care and love are different things.

I think everyone deserves some one who does, at the end. Who can take them in at their worst and still say, okay. You have been known, in a world that you walked, that made you feel small or unimportant. You made good, or bad, choices. And even now, when it is no longer a world you are aware of, or can affect...I care. I care that you lived. I care that you died. I acknowledge that you existed and grappled with that, however that looked. And now, you have laid that responsibility down. But someone keeps it, someone remembers you did.

So, he doesn't know what Lavellan and Solas' journey looks like. But he holds the endings of things, the vigil. He ushers and beckons, without judgement. It is where all things go.

Anyway, I enjoyed the game very much. It seems many had a different experience, different playthroughs. Playing my specific character, and never feeling beholden to canon, assuredly effects my takeaway. That's okay. I solidly enjoyed it, and it's fine if others did not.

Can't wait to pick up Theron Thorne and Izanagi Ingellvar (I have such plans for them both). Dirge, I admit, is still my special guy. He lives rent free in my head, as they say.

[electricbluebutterflies]

virtue

Jessica/Leto, on the fine line between early- and Choice-era (but only one of them knows that). PG-ish and also on ao3.

prompt - “every time she says no to me it is a gift”

Against all odds, they have bloomed.

Three years ago, this looked impossible. Three years ago, circumstances as they were, personalities as they were… he’d half expected he wouldn’t physically survive the first year, even if he overestimated her contempt, but instead…

Sharp object of a woman. Possible love of his life. Source of more stress than any of the responsibilities that ought to weigh heavier on him than one almost-human being does. Somehow all of this feels right.

He adores her, this woman who has changed everything, whose presence has not calmed anyone else the way it has him and perhaps that is the beauty of it, how her maneuvers are always in his favor even when-

She has done something today. She has done something, and there are details he does not know and would like to, and trying to find her in the quiet of night is unusually hard. It’s rare that he has to actively look for her anymore, her patterns made easier to follow as she’s softened and made herself at home, and for her to be outside her normal range after nightfall is never…

He’d like to assume the depth of winter means she’s indoors, at least. That means she isn’t. Her outdoor hiding places are at least less numerous, and whatever she’s up to…

This is what his life has come to. He should be more bothered than he is by these developments.

There is a particular spot he knows she uses when she needs to focus herself, recurrent enough that she has not changed it, and he does appreciate that she seems to know there might be good reasons for someone to want to find her, and-

“Leave me alone.”

And there’s his answer, in her clear voice almost but not quite on the edge of things he suspects she does to other people but not-

“I only want to talk.”

“You always say that. And then you calm with your hands and you make me-“

“If I have successfully made you do anything, I would like proof.” She is so fiercely her own, he thinks, and he can’t recall asking for anything more than maybe she could wear an actual color once in a while and even that felt like a risk and-

Well. That and the pleasure of her company more often than might be considered proper, but-

She says no almost as often as she says yes nowadays, and he’s come to adore that too. Means she feels safe in her decisions, means he’s done right by her, means-

She slips out from behind her hiding place, into his view now, glowing in the winter moonlight and how could anyone ever look at her and not want to give her everything and-

“What do you actually want?” she says with a coldness that has become rarer in the past few months.

“To see you. Is that enough?”

“Do you know how hard you still are for me to trust?”

No, he wants to say, no she hasn’t given the slightest indication that might be-

But no one else does, he reminds himself. Every day is a new battle of justifying how close he keeps her, every other voice he listens to pointing out at every opportunity that this is a terrible set of decisions, and he still…

She is her own. Whatever decisions she makes are her own. This is what has made him fall in love with her.

“But do you?” he asks after what feels like adequate silence.

“I want to. You have made space for me and for that I owe you everything and-“

He has suspected at times that she once expected to be much more controlled than she has been; this here feels like as much confirmation as he will ever get. She still moves in line with his intentions and desires and he is grateful for that, but on her own timing and terms and-

“And you use it well. You are not… you have become something I can’t find words for and-“

“Difficult. Will that do?”

“Perhaps, but pleasing in it. Every time you walk away from me I see how strong you are and-“

“That was never supposed to be a virtue.”

“What if it is?”

“What do you want?” she asks again, redirecting the conversation and he knew this would happen, skies forbid she make herself vulnerable at any point ever and-

“I would ask what you have done today and what has brought you out here so late, but-“

“Nothing to worry you, my love.”

The endearment slips out like she might not even be sure what she just said, and they are never like this, always so cold and guarded as they move around each other, always-

If nothing else, he thinks, at least the state of his heart is understood.

“You do still worry me.”

“I have not… you know how careful I am, nothing will be-“

“You say that and I-“

“What would it take to calm you?”

“At least seclude yourself inside. I will leave you be, but-“

She moves closer and reaches for his hands, and the contrast between them is so great sometimes, her exposed fingers wrapping around his gloved ones and this is not right and this is everything and-

“I would have expected you to send someone else out to find me, if you worried so much.”

“I do keep your secrets. Your hiding places are-“

“Do you know how much you give me?”

Not and never enough, he thinks sometimes, but-

“I will not push you.”

“I know. I do… I would like to be alone, but… I could be alone indoors, I suppose.”

More of a compromise than he expected, really, but she surprises him in new ways every moment and-

“May I walk you in?”

She gives him a look that he has learned is as close as she ever gets to smiling. “I would appreciate that.”

Her strength and stubbornness have become the light of his life. Whatever she’s up to, whatever she’s not telling him… she’ll reveal herself when he needs to know and not a moment before. She always does.

[capcollector]

Tell us about the first kiss please? (oh I love the first kisses)

the first kisses…..this got so much longer than i thought it would so i’m putting it under a cut. bunny and deacon have taken over my brain😔

are we talking on the lips or just in general. bc if we’re talking the latter, it happened after deacon confided in her about his past. it was several days before she was gonna be sent to the institute for the first time, and the two of them were scavenging for more parts. it’d been eating away at deacon for awhile atp, so once they’re in a relatively safe and quiet place, he stops her and asks her to listen. they don’t even know if sending her to the institute like this will even work. this could be one of the last moments he has w her. so he bares his soul to her in that moment, the two only illuminated by the light of her pip-boy. it’s a lot to take in, and she’s hesitant to believe parts of his story (imo i think parts were a complete lie but others….had a grain of truth to them), but regardless she lets him know she appreciates him telling her. she can tell the parts of his story about barbara in particular seem to be weighing on him heavily. even though he says he’s not the hugging type, she goes in anyway. he needs it. she gives him a chaste kiss on the cheek and tells him that she truly is sorry. as they pull away he gives her a sad smile and says they should probably get moving.

the first kiss on the lips tho….i think this happened after the institute was destroyed. you can’t tell me there wasn’t at least a lil get-together/party w all the companions and associates afterwards. i did not convert the roof of the red rocket into a patio area w chairs and a bar and a radio for nothing…

but i think during the party, bunny wanders off for a bit. back in the day, pre-war, she was the life of every party, happily chatting and drinking well into the early hours. but this isn’t like those. she’s glad, yes, but there is still this terribly bittersweet edge to it all. only she knows the truth. so she just sits on the edge of the stairs leading back to the ground, looking out at the woods and stars ahead. a familiar pair of footsteps walks over and sits down beside her. deacon jokes like he always does, saying he was wondering where their hero went. the party’s still going strong, after all. she smiles—grimaces, really—she wants to respond w a joke but she’s not sure she has it in her. she tells him that this isn’t what she thought her life would be. obvious, maybe, but how was she supposed to prepare for it being this different? in much the same way he talked to her that night, she speaks to him frankly and genuinely. she tells him that she was a famous model pre-war, and after a whirlwind romance w a man she truthfully didn’t even consider a friend resulted in a sudden marriage and baby, she felt like her life was put on hold. she couldn’t be herself anymore. but then she woke up and got this freedom she thought she’d never have again. and that, when she got to the institute, there was no relief. but it was over now. the commonwealth is safe. she can lead the charge on a brand new day. freedom. for herself, for everyone. did she not get what she wanted? why does it feel this way? it’s the first time deacon has seen her cry. it’s a foreign feeling, to see someone he admires so much be so wholly vulnerable like this.

as they sit on the stairs, he pulls her into an unexpected hug. consider it returning the favor. he doesn’t have all the answers for her, not that she really expected he did. he doesn’t know what really happened in the institute when bunny was in there—and for a brief moment bunny considers telling him then and there, the things she learned, but ultimately decides not to. but regardless, there’s a whole lot of ppl out there right now who need her. he knows she will do the right thing. he tells her that he’ll always be in her corner, that he will always be there, that she’s the first person he’s sincerely come to care about this deeply in a long time. and that’s the truth. she pulls away slightly to look up at him. there’s a pause as they just look at each other for a minute before closing the space between them in a kiss. the sounds of the party fade away as they sit on those steps and hold each other like this. eventually the kiss breaks apart, and after a nervous beat bunny wipes her eyes and says that another drink sounds good. she doesn’t wanna miss more of the party. deacon agrees.

she’s the first to stand up and start walking back up the steps. she stops halfway and turns around. she smiles, and says thank you.

[coachbeards]

okay now for a tl question: as someone who also dislikes season three, i'm curious to know how you would have liked season 3 to end? i'm pretty sure you've talked abt it before but i'd love to hear your thoughts.

well, i think there are a lot of things that could've happened....but i'm not entirely sure, as i haven't seen the season since it aired. that means i can't give the biggest in depth answer to it regarding every single tl character, so i'll just give my thoughts on what i think should've happened............................................for beard

first of all, he should've broken up with jane after mom city. i've talked a lot about that, and how i believe that beard's forgiveness of nate should've been shown as a forgiveness of himself as well, and by extension beard finally beginning his journey of self-healing. because, no. forgiving nate didn't Heal beard, not by a long shot, but it helped fix a little bit within himself that would've paved the road to his breaking up with jane. realizing he didn't need to be punished anymore.

so, if there was no jane involved in the finale, there would be no wedding or beard choosing jane over ted.

HOWEVER. i think it would've been amazing to see beard choose richmond anyways.........finally making a choice for himself. he came to richmond in the first place because ted asked him to, and he was willing to leave richmond all because ted asked him to. ignoring the jane of it all, beard choosing to stay in richmond because he wants to....he wants to continue coaching the team, he wants to complete their mission of winning the whole fucking thing, he wants to nurture those relationships he made and be .,,,, well. his own independent person, something we never really saw considering he was either following ted or following jane. never on his own.

regarding the other characters,

JAMES DIDN'T DESERVE TO BE FORGIVEN. i am all for james's recovery arc, showcasing him in rehab and actively trying to get better. but just because a character is in recovery doesn't automatically erase all the harm they've done, nor does it mean their victims need to forgive them for anything. i think jamie should've been shown to grapple with what he wanted to do, forgive him or not, and come to the conclusion that he doesn't need to do anything. he doesn't need to care what james thinks of him anymore, he doesn't deserve to have that weighing on him. i think jamie should've been shown to be ... idk not Happy or Supportive, but be okay with james in recovery, but draw boundaries that he doesn't need to do anything past that. he should've had someone tell him it was his choice, rather than being told to forgive him.

roy should've been in therapy earlier on in the season than last second. i'm glad that roy is seeking help, obviously, but i think it would've bettered his arc if we saw more of it starting like,,,, 3x08 onwards. maybe. idk. again, i haven't seen s3 since it aired.

not sure about rebecca, since i didn't really pay attention to her arc that much in s3 (sorry to all) because i disliked the psychic aspect so much. i like her ending up with the dutch man! wish we got more of them between 3x06 and the finale, but i understand the romcom aspect of reuniting with someone you thought you'd never see again. i don't hate her ending !!!!

ted needed to go back to kansas, sorry. it wasn't dottie "forcing" him to go back, even though i will admit she's a pretty shit parent lmao. but it wasn't like that wasn't the plan from the very start. could it have been handled better? absolutely! should've jason played ted with way more emotion in 3x12? YES. but,,, come on. ted is a father first and foremost. before a coach, friend, romantic interest, etc. he's a father. and that's actually been a really big part of his character, so i never understood when people said that it "came out of nowhere" or it was so "out of character" for him.........to....be with his son? DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE HENRY LASSO HATE. i swear some of y'all forget the message of being curious, not judgemental lmao. ted was always supposed to go back to henry. i don't agree with the idea of uprooting a literal child to a whole other country, though i can picture there being a time where they do move back to richmond together! the door is left open, not closed! i could picture him going there as a teenager and going to school there, but again. he's like.....12 lmao. ted's arc always circled around his son...and he needed to go back.

also keeley just deserved better. i'm perfectly okay with her remaining single at the end of the show, as i do think that that could've helped her heal herself and her relationships with other people and her career. no, giving her a romantic ending wouldn't have impacted her career, but i think i like where she ended up. on her own, with her new friend of barbara and their company, her and rebecca, and even her and roy and jamie!!!!!!! i think there's chances for their to be romance, but like. i think considering how much of keeley's arc has revolved around romance, it's nice that she didn't end up with anyone. idk.

[femmefatalevibe]

I look fat and I hate it soooo much, I'm currently 14 going on 15 and I hate the way my body looks in every single way. I mean sure, When I look in the mirror and I see my body I say wow sometimes cs it looks kind of good but then when I'm mixed with my slimmer friends I feel the SHITTIEST.

I hate all their fat jokes: My friend once said to another friend that I may be kidnapped bcos I was taking long in the restroom, And another one said I can't be kidnapped because I'm way too heavy. And the same friend said that maybe I'm being cooked into roasted pig already. And the other one looked at my thighs, And back to hers EVIDENTLY (her thighs are waaaay smaller than mine is) and she gasped and laughed.

I can't do this anymore.

Any tips on how to slim down? I do volleyball but I seem to get bulkier rather than thinner.

Thank u, I need this so bad.

Hi love. Please know that, while it is a great thing to want to eat more healthfully and move more (and lose any excess weight, to be honest), any person who goes out of their way to make fun of your weight does not deserve a place in your life. Anyone trying to put you down for how you look (especially for something you can't fix in under 10 seconds) is not your friend. Please distance yourself from these rude people. You deserve better. All have inherent worth and are worthy of respect no matter how much we weigh, look in a bikini, or fit into clothes.

As someone who lost a lot of weight (like 30% of my body weight at the time) at around your age, please do not starve yourself as it can cause many health and hormonal issues. Consider cutting out any junk food (candy, fast food, potato chips, anything processed), soda, and sugary drinks, and try out some toning exercises like pilates or yoga/light stretching to help shed any extra pounds resulting from unhealthy choices and to lean out your muscle mass, respectively.

It is super normal at your age to gain some weight. Remember that the reason you could be gaining weight unlike your friends is because your body is maturing at a faster rate. In 5 years, you could all be a similar weight – no one knows.

Either way, it is a smart decision to develop healthy eating and exercise habits from a young age, so it's great that you play volleyball! I'm sharing my Simple Tips For Healthy Eating & Exercising Habits in the hyperlink if you want some more advice on how to incorporate more health-focused habits into your life.