#i am. far too invested i fear

[snail-eggs]

the 100 should've been more horrific. gimme those kids being terrified when the dropship crashed, screaming in fear and holding onto each other before they step out onto Earth for the first time. Give me a little bit of radiation sickness from having to consume things on the ground. Have them look filthier, have them be filthier. Idk I get that it was on the CW and they were limited with what they could do but god, can you imagine?

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

[gender-euphowrya]

huge dev update my grandma is gonna see a psychologist

[astonmartinii]

mamma mia | formula one social media au

drivers: sebastian vettel, jenson button and fernando alonso

what the hell is in the water in greece? why are pregnancy tests so expensive and why does seb name his vehicles like that?

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by maxverstappen1, aussiegrit and 803,450 others

location: greece

fernandoalo_oficial: had a great break in greece recharging the old batteries 🔋

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user1: old man who is this woman?

landonorris: who taught you to soft launch grandpa?

fernandoalo_oficial: hey! respect your elders

landonorris: you just called yourself old? and WHO IS THIS?

fernandoalo_oficial: none of your damn business kid

user2: why is he particularly dilfy lately?

user3: he's approaching silver fox territory i fear

jensonbutton: i see that greece was a popular spot for wold champions this break?

fernandoalo_oficial: i also saw, sad not to bump into you old friend :(

maxverstappen1: where was my invite ???

jensonbutton: cool world champions only

lewishamilton: excuse me?

fernandoalo_oficial: idk what to tell you it wasn't planned, me, jenson and sebastian just have good taste

sebastianvettel: i see mary goodnight was appreciated

fernandoalo_oficial: yes thank you for lending me your boat, huge hit with the ladies

sebastianvettel: very happy with my choice to get it deep cleaned before i got there

fernandoalo_oficial: first of all, i'm not dirty. second of all, thanks for the faith in my game big man

user4: i am so confused by this comment section I DID NOT WANT TO KNOW ALONSO FUCKED ON SEB'S BOAT ???

yourusername

liked by yourbff, oliviarodrigo and 1,340.987 others

tagged: yourbff

yourusername: (sober) brunch with a side of light baby daddy investigation

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user7: only y/n would end up in a mamma mia situation, stay strong

yourusername: omg i didn't even realise, but donna was always a bad bitch, so i will just be the same

user8: i can't believe i am watching a girl investigate her own baby daddies on the internet (i love this place)

yourbff: if we can't find the lucky men, at least they'll have a cool ass aunt

yourusername: all fun and games until you have to change a nappy

user9: i'm enjoying this saga, BUT, why can't we just wait and do a paternity test

yourusernmae: i still need to know them to do that... and being nosey is far more fun

user10: all i'm thinking is this girl has to have GAME for three dilfs in the span of like three days... RESPECT 🫡

user11: i am so invested in this... please be interesting people 🤞

jensonbutton

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 401,330 others

jensonbutton: back on sky duty and bumped into a couple of familiar faces

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user12: who let these old men talk about their sex lives on a live broadcast?

user13: i am entertained tbf

user14: obsessed with both needing to reinforce the fact that they pulled in greece

user15: i need seb to jump in on this conversation ASAP

fernandoalo_oficial: not happy with you pinning all of my success on seb's boat mate

jensonbutton: was it all your charming personality?

fernandoalo_oficial: obviously

sebastianvettel: i can confirm that it's always all the boat

jensonbutton: is that a confession?

sebastianvettel: gentleman don't kiss and tell x

charles_leclerc: jesus christ and we're the generation ruining the sport?

jensonbutton: f1 has always been slutty, you guys are letting us down

maxverstappen1: clearly you guys are still active enough to keep up the reputation yourselves

sebastianvettel

liked by charles_leclerc, jensonbutton and 902,180 others

sebastianvettel: retirement is looking fun, glad to take mary goodnight out for her first spin

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user21: did he just say mary goodnight? SEB WHAT?

user22: omfg he is potential baby daddy two??

charles_leclerc: so seb got a bit too lucky in greece?

user23: CHARLES?

user24: i am losing my mind they were right, they are the baby daddies

user25: i knew as soon as she said a nando with a samurai tattoo

user26: @yourusername he's number two !!!!!

user27: @yourusername we found him, boat and all

landonorris: YOU'RE POTENTIAL BABY DADDY TWO SEB WHAT THE FUCK

sebastianvettel: i don't understand lando

landonorris: check your texts

user28: don't forget the others lando

landonorris: @fernandoalo_oficial check your texts (and forward it to jenson i don't have his number)

fernandoalo_oficial: okay?

yourusername: WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

user29: i think someone needs to check on her

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,509,600 others

yourusername: i hot girl summer-ed a bit too close to the sun, what do you mean the three dilfs were f1 world champions?

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sebastianvettel followed yourusername

fernandoalo_oficial followed yourusername

jensonbutton followed yourusername

note: AHHHHHH? idk if i love it or hate it? do i know who i plan on being the dad? no. but do i plan on expanding on this? yes. mamma mia chaos will return.

[gb-patch]

GB Patch Games: Another Statement

Hey everyone,

I want to apologize for coming across as unconcerned about how this has impacted players. My fear had been that people would see the worst of someone in the worst way and believe that’s who they were as a whole. I wanted to try assuring people that Rose has been trying to good by the project as best they could and those posts weren’t out of hatred for me or players, but frustration from being invested in the game/community.

I’ve had people say bad things about the game’s content before and it’s part of my job to not react with hurt when people are expressing things that have hurt them. Whether those posts are sarcastic humor or strongly worded insults, I try to listen to where they’re coming from. However, that’s not something players should have to deal with and expressing yourself without considering others can go too far. I’m sorry this happened.

And that's not all I should have mentioned. For the part of not being “punished”, that was more of my own poor communication. Basically, in my mind there was only one thing that would be a true “punishment”- getting fired, not being allowed to sensitivity read anymore, which I wouldn’t want to do. I wanted to be upfront and honest that my reaction to this wasn’t a firing. I can see how that comes across as me not caring at all. This doesn’t mean I haven’t seriously spoken to Rose, or that I think everything that was said is a-okay to do, or that this is going to be allowed to happen again. And Rose is going to stop and consider this. It is not just business as usual right now. I am still thinking about how bad this must be for a player who was hoping for kindness from the devs.

Again, I want this to be addressed and apologized for from us, but I wasn’t thinking about how any of that could be a punishment. I see that as simply trying to be more responsible. People are justified in expecting that.

This also isn't the last word on this. There's still things that can be addressed. Players can continue to let me know their concerns or a need for a refund. I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen or disappear until this goes away.

[nayaesworld]

Mafioso

__

Warnings: Murder, manipulation, drugs and violence

Terry Richmond X OC!Marina

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__

The collective clink of champagne glasses filled the large venue as self-made millionaire and philanthropist Terry Richmond concluded his speech at the second annual charity event for Black women and children. Thunderous claps and cheers bounced off the walls as he exited the stage and came down to thank each and every single person that had come out to support and donate to the amazing cause. He was elated and proud of the turnout; truly grateful.

At 43 Terry felt at the height of his career. The comings and goings of life reflected well on his face and he carried all those trials and triumphs with him on his sleeve next to his heart. His story was a story of the people.

The night was a huge success. A large volume of high profile people had pledged and donated to this cause right along with him. Close family and friends came out in support and he circled around the room checking in on them and taking breaks to hit a shimmy or two on the dance floor.

He had also allowed some of his favorite black journalists and reporters to give interviews, but he was most interested in one in particular that had been very vocal and fierce about the safety of black children in spaces that society deemed not fit for them. How many times had a black child been harmed or put in a traumatic situation due to racism? Far too many times to count and they deserved a space to perfect their crafts without fear or judgement.

Marina Evans was a woman of poise, integrity, and culture, and at 25 she was at the top of her game. Not many could deny her journalistic credentials. She was the first person he wanted to give an interview to tonight and he sought her out quickly through the sea of people. The bold black gown had been a wondrous choice against her bronzed skin. Honey blond braids highlighting the warm undertones of her skin and dark expressive eyes styled with a natural set of wispy lashes. She was a show stopper. A true beauty.

She had just ended an interview with Weston Troy, a filthy rich middle aged man that owned a few hospitals in the area. Her eyes drifted over to him and she began to set up for his interview. A warm welcoming smile graced her face and he made sure to return it. Cameras and microphone ready, Terry adjusted his black suit and freed his mind.

“Tonight I am here speaking with local philanthropist and founder of ‘Hearts of Grace’ a charity founded to give aid and relief to underprivileged families…and without further ado I’d like to welcome Mr. Terry Richmond. How are you feeling about the turnout tonight… did you project the earnings for year two to surpass year one by so much?”

“ I’m feeling amazing tonight, the turnout was more than I could have ever imagined. When I initially started this charity I had no idea that anyone would ever give money to the cause at such a high volume, it's too often that things within the affiliation of the black community are not taken seriously or into consideration… I would like to change that, and with all the resources at my hand I'd be foolish not to invest it into people who look like me and sound like me.”

“I love that, what you did here tonight was jaw dropping. The kind of things I want to see more of, what does it mean for you to give back and support black families,businesses, and neighborhoods?” He pondered a bit before answering and pulled his lip from his teeth.

“It means that I have an opportunity to cater to and serve these underprivileged families, I too come from very humble beginnings. I grew up in a single parent household, it was just me and my mother so sharing this wealth with many people is top priority.”

“Terry, that is just amazing, I’m excited for more people to hear your story… for you it's been a long time coming, but for many of us this is our first time seeing someone who we relate to so much do as many great things as you have…and that brings me to my next question. How does being a role model to the younger generation speak to you?” Her questions were definitely living up to her reputation, she asked the real shit and he paused to gather his words, this was a passionate subject for him so finding the right words was essential.

“Being a role model for the younger generation entails a particular type of character and finesse… I want them to know that yes hard work and dedication can afford you the luxuries of life, but I also want them to understand that mental health is just as important um..if not more important than any career field or industry they choose.”

“I also saw that you named your charity after your mother Grace, how does it feel tonight to share this with her… I’m sure she is so proud of you.”

“My mother means the world to me…for any time I was ever in trouble or needed her she picked up the phone, she lifted me up, and she molded me into the man I am today. I don’t care how old I get or how many things I achieve, I'll always be her baby.”

“It was such a pleasure to interview you tonight, I thank you so much for taking the time out of your busy schedule to allow me to talk and pick your brain.” Marina had interviewed many men and women of different backgrounds and profiles, but none had ever struck her as truly genuine people quite as he did. He truly meant those words.

“Oh no anytime..you’ve had the best questions I thank you for that. And when I’m ready for another interview I know how to find you, thank you for coming out tonight Ms.Evans I truly appreciate it.” Terry left it plainly at that. He didn’t wanna seem weird by telling the young girl that he was an avid viewer of her podcast and hadn’t missed any episodes thus far.

The night carried on and people filled their bellies to the brim with liquor and a catered banquet of savory mouth watering food. Terry was on his second plate of food and had been cackling loudly in his mothers ear, all tipsy and giggly from the constant glasses of champagne.

“Boy you are just tickled to death ain’t you, what’s so funny son?” He rested his head onto her shoulder and squeezed her into a warm hug.

“I’m just happy ma..that’s it. Tonight turned out amazing and I get to honor you right along with it..I hope you’re proud.”

“Son is proud even the word for what I feel? You make me ecstatic, I hoped and prayed for so many long nights for you to have something…anything to call your own, and look at you now.” Grace pressed a kiss to her son's forehead before standing from her seat.

“Walk your mama to her car, I’m going to turn in for the night.”

Terry walked his mother to her car and watched her disappear into the distance before he walked back into the building. Standing with his hands in the pockets of his smooth slacks, he surveyed the area with calm eyes. He was looking for someone. Ahh there she is. Honey blond braids swaying gently behind her as she rocked in her chair to the music. Headed in her direction he grabbed a freshly poured glass of champagne from the table and handled the delicate glass in his hands carefully.

Cognac eyes met his as he finally made it into her line of vision. “Champagne? I wasn’t aware you were still here Ms.Evans.” Her pretty manicured hand accepted the drink from him and she sipped a little before answering him.

“Yeah I guess I’m a bit of a recluse…I prefer to fade into the background at events like these. Sometimes it’s better to just watch.” Terry hummed in his throat before taking a seat in front of her crossing his left leg over his right.

“And on that point we do agree…for causes such as these I can show up no questions asked, otherwise I’m home nose deep in a good podcast.” His deep rumbling laugh coaxed a cute chuckle from her mouth.

She sipped a little more of the sweet champagne before she answered him. ”Oh wow me too , so you have a favorite one you listen too?”

“Yes…yours. It’s the only one I can sit through and enjoy without a missed episode. You’re great at what you do Ms.Evans…very captivating topics.” Terry watched a hand press to her chest in shock as her mouth fell in shock.

“You watch lil ole’ me, wow Terry I really appreciate that. And I try to make things interesting as well as informative… I'm happy it reaches you well.”

“There’s nothing little about the work you do, remember that.” Maria shyly tilted her head to the side, peeking up into his face from under her lashes.

”Thank you so much Terry, you have the kindest eyes by the way…sorry if that was weird.” He dropped his head and let his eyes lock onto hers and watched her skin heat up under his gaze.

“No no, not weird at all. I receive that..thank you beautiful.”

Terry enjoyed picking her head for the reminder of their time together. By 9pm the event had wrapped and everyone filed out of the large double doors to head home. Terrys large hand graced the small of her back not wanting to lose her in the crowd of people, he hated that their time was cut short because he had really enjoyed chatting with the smart woman.

“Did you drive here?” He looked down at her once they’d made it outside, the middle of people around them creating the perfect bubble for tj to talk.

“Mhmh I did.. I’m right over there, the black Acura.” Her dainty finger pointed at the sleek Acura suv that was coincidentally parallel parked behind his Manhattan Green BMW X6.

“ I’ll walk you..we’re parked right by each other.” Her heels clicked against the dark asphalt and she let a yawn escape her pretty lips.

“Tired Ms.Evans? Sorry to keep you so late, I’m sure you have other obligations.”

“Mhm it’s all the food and champagne getting to me, and no please don’t apologize I had such a nice time tonight… thank you again for extending an invitation to me.” The two stopped in front of her suv and it had Terry wishing he could turn back time.

“And miss an opportunity to talk to the gorgeous and seriously intelligent Marina Evans… not a chance. Thank you for your support, and drive safe.” He helped her step into her vehicle before he closed her door and watched her leave before pulling out his phone to make a call.

“Yeah she just left..keep close to the plan and do exactly what I told y’all to do. I find out you niggas did anything other than what I asked…yall are finished.” He hung up the phone and hopped into his car heading to his house. He knew what he was doing was fucked up, but rarely did Terry ever not get what he wanted. Only this time he wanted Marina Evans and he was willing to stage whatever freak incident he could think of to appear as the white shining knight in her story.

The contemporary home was a perfect mix of neutral earth times and dark greys. Features within the home had donned it with eco friendly and smart house features putting it at a price point of a whopping 1.2 million dollars. A price point Terry would pay and then some for a house that was exclusive to him. The story he told the public about his upbringing was slightly altered and fabricated. The money was only halfway clean, but his appearance needed to be crystal. No past offenses or charges, no run-ins with the police, and no witnesses.

He put people in the dirt for a living and that was just the true facts. The true underground king with an empire spanning throughout the states.A dr. Jekyll and Hyde if you will. The boogeyman. An assassin with the precision to kil. Right now his cousins were ransacking the cute little craftsman style house that belonged to Marina Evans. A sick way of pushing her into his arms he knew but having her would make it all worth the risk.

A new obsession had squirmed its way into Terrys head one night during a masturbation session. The video practically screamed out at him and he had nutted enough that night to fill the Mississippi River; twice,his eyes were glued to the computer screen as he watched the younger woman be pumped full of grown mature dick. The idea had crossed his mind plenty of times, something young and hot to trick on and fuck whenever he wanted to. It seemed maybe he’d be getting his wish sooner or later.

__

Paranoia and fear gripped Marina in the coming days after the charity ball. When she had made it home and into her driveway that night she knew something was off. The linen curtains that lined her French doors to her kitchen blew in the night winds, signaling the doors had been smashed. Eyes wide with fear and shock she held her hand over her mouth in disbelief. She frantically dialed 911 to report a burglary. Her house was a mess, picture frames broken and everything rummaged through. The following nights she spent in the guest room at her moms house, too afraid to sleep in her own house.

She had called into the local newspaper that she worked for letting them know of her unfortunate situation. Work would have to be put on the back burner for a few days right along with her podcast episode. She was still practically new to this neighborhood having only just closed on her home two months prior. It was a quiet safe neighborhood, and all her neighbors had kindly welcomed her into it. But now she wasn’t so sure about it being safe. What if she had been home When this happened, would she have lived to tell the tale?

She felt hopeless and the police had no leads yet. What was life without a curveball? She was currently wrapped up in her mothers guest room

sick with the flu. Coughs and sniffles were the soundtrack of life right now and the pungent smell of Lysol was in the air. She had no appetite and a slight migraine sat at her temples, and yet her phone began to ring excessively loud into her ear.

|“Hello?” She was sure she sounded as stuffy as she looked.

|”Marina..hey sweetheart it’s Terry. I called as soon as I heard the bad news, I’m so sorry.” His deep voice sounded apologetic over the phone and she had almost forgotten the exchanging of numbers almost a week ago at the charity event.

[-My uncle works at the police department..he mentioned your name and burglary in the same sentence and I just had to call and check in on you. I hope I’m not overstepping.

[-No not at all I appreciate you calling me..um yeah it hasn't been the best week for me so far it’d be better if I could find out who did this to my house…and now I’m sick with the flu.She heard shuffling and muffled talking on his end and she sat up further on the headboard of the bed.

[-Let me send you something Marina, a little get well soon basket…if that’s okay with you I can have my assistant drop it to you. Marina pondered a bit, and honestly what was the harm in accepting it?

[-I don’t know Terry, I couldn’t ask you to do that. One day you'll have to let me repay you back for your kindness.

[-I insist, and pay me back in good health.. and let me take you out some time when you’re feeling better. Some time had lapsed and he had seriously caught her off guard with the question.

[-Marina? You don’t have to give me an answer right now… my ego can handle it, trust me.

[-Sometime when I’m better definitely, I’m completely in the dumps right now..but I could definitely use that basket if it’s still on the table.

[-It is..I’ll get my assistant to contact you and get everything delivered to you. Get well Marina I’ll talk to you soon.

The call ended and she finally felt some strength in her to get up and tend to herself. Her braids had been in her bonnet for the last 48 hours and her face looked drained of all her color. She definitely wasn’t in any shape to look Terry’s handsome ass in his face. Her moms house was quiet, and she knew her mother wouldn’t be home from the hospital until 7 that evening so trying to get better was definitely the plan for the next few hours.

As he said, Terry had his assistant message her about her location to send the basket. It arrived well packaged with an aroma that was clearing her nasal passage. Two dozen crimson red roses and a large woven basket was on the front porch waiting for her in less than an hour. She hurriedly sat it on her mothers dining table and pulled the contents from the basket. Each item she was excited to use. Multiple face masks to bring back the color to her face, an expensive looking full body massager, a cozy pajama set, and a container of chicken noodle soup that was still piping hot from the deli uptown.

“How freaking sweet, now these are gifts worth having for sure.”

She sent a picture over to Terry letting him know that everything was revived with the highest appreciation. He hearted her message but didn’t send back a written reply.

__

“Didn’t I tell you to stay out my fucking city?!” Terry let his bloodied fist fly into the man’s face for a third time, he winced and shook his hand quickly before his phone vibrated in his pocket. A picture from Marina showing him the basket had made it to her and would be used gratefully. But she'd have to wait. Terry was in his mode. The kill a nigga and ask questions later mode, he had two run ins prior to this one with the same pesky ass excuse for a human being.

“Pass me my shit, I’m ending this. Motherfuckers need to know that I don’t speak twice.” The heavy gun was laid in his hand and he screwed on the silencer. The man in front of him cried and begged for his life, but time was out for him.

“Mario Brown…I’m sentencing you to death for not obeying the nigga that owns you.” A quick pull of the trigger put a silver bullet right through his head. His crew needed no words as they immediately rolled the body into a tarp to be burned.

Terry shrugged off his suit using it to wipe the blood from his face and neck. He had a warehouse stacked to the brim with cocaine that needed to make it to El Paso, Texas. Terry wasn’t a cliche in the world of drugs, he chose the mafia life willingly; it didn’t choose him. It was all he knew and it was all he’s ever done outside of his coverups, that consisted of real estate and stocks. All three things he needed to know the ins and outs of to keep up the facade. He was no good person and he was no angel. He maneuvered through this life cunning and forcefully, and yet he did so with grace.

Drugs had afforded him the type of access he wanted in life. A payroll full of law enforcement, cars and houses, and the baddest bitches on the continent. But he was getting older and more irritable with it all, and that was bad for business. A man that stayed irritated was a man bad for business, he had stacked and put so much money away his grandchildren’s grandchildren would be rich. And yet having all he had he still longed for a woman to call his, someone to marry and give his last name and kids too. Marina Evans was what he wanted-no needed, and he would pull out any stop to have her.

His clothes would be a pile of ash by the time he finished using the warehouse shower, black and purple bruises littering his back and side from a recent brawl with a new business partner who would ultimately be his way out. He didn’t believe the old heads that told him he only had one way out of this kinda life, he refused to put that shit on himself. Death was not the only way out, past men just didn’t have his sharp mindset and it showed because they all rested eternally in cemeteries.

His matte black Range Rover practically drove itself home. He was worn out and needed food and sleep. Public speakings to keep the wool over the public’s eye and the night time escapades that always ended in a dead body or two lying around, were getting the best of him. For the next month he planned to pull back from the public slowly but surely, only popping out to speak when absolutely necessary. The only person he cared to be around was her. What a fucking joke. Terry knew better about this situation and still refused to do better, he wanted what he wanted. Marina… Just the sound of her name rolling off his tongue enticed him and his dick had jumped multiple times in his pants when she complimented him at the ball.

A pretty lil thing with a good head on her shoulders and outside of wanting to put her through his mattress he was actually genuinely intrigued by her. And when he finally laid down it was her pictures and voice that invaded his privacy so badly he stalked all her socials. Her vibrant colorful pictures on her Instagram page pulled a smile from him, such an interesting girl.

__

The next morning came to Terry in peace. No nightmares and no tossing and turning, he felt well rested above all else and the pain he felt from his bruised body had subsided and drowned out without painkillers. His morning routine came effortlessly and he ended it all with a 30 minute meditation to thoroughly decompress his body to prepare for his day.

He scarfed down a savory bagel sandwich and washed it down with his herbal tea. His agenda for the day was light as planned, he was to be kept updated on the whereabouts of his drugs every hour on the hour and not a second late. A large sum of money was headed his way if shit went smoothly.

His fingers itched to message Marina; so he did. He wanted another try at seeing her. To his surprise she had responded quickly and said she was feeling well enough to meet at her house. She spoke of wanting to replace the broken glass on her French doors so he dressed casually and responded letting her know he’d see her shortly.

His Ford Raptor rounded the block into a cute quaint neighborhood. Children rode their bikes and sprayed each other with water hoses as their parents watched, and the background noise of barking dogs made it all full circle. He spotted Marina’s suv quickly and pulled in alongside it in her driveway. Getting out he noticed her still sitting inside and tapped on her window lightly.

“Hi Terry… I know I look weird still sitting in here. I’m just scared to go alone.” She gave him a bashful smile and opened her driver side door. Black biker shorts showing off her thick thighs and plush lower half, had him shaking his head. A Tupac graphic tee shirt and white sneakers completed her looks and her neat braids rested atop her head in a tight bun.

“Come on I’ll go with you, nobody will mess with you while I’m here I promise.” She obliged and walked side by side with him to the side of her house where the doors were. Terry measured where the glass was supposed to be and got the measurements for replacements and let the tape measure shoot back into itself before turning to Marina.

“I have a guy that does this kind of work. I'll get in contact with him for you. No cost to you, but for now I’d say invest in security cameras…they’ll bring you a good peace of mind.”

“Will do, that’s not even out of the question anymore… thank you for extending this kind of generosity to me.”

A smirk graced his face as he stared down at her, hands itching to touch her. “Let’s get lunch and you can thank me all you want afterwards.” He helped her up into his truck with a hand on her waist, green eyes going wide at her ass in his face, and on his way around the truck he was silently praying to god.

She was definitely chatty when she got comfortable, but he didn’t mind listening. They filled their bellies with Korean bbq and sushi and Terry was still ordering appetizers.

“Please no more, are you trying to stuff me?” In more ways than one he thought to himself, he just loved watching her eat. When she tried something new amongst the appetizers she hit a little happy dance if she liked it. They had ate their fill in food with plenty to bring home, Terry paid the bill and carried their Togo bags and she kept up beside him sipping quietly on her lychee tea. His phone buzzed in the console a few times and he ignored it knowing it was about his shipment, he would get to it when she was no longer around.

“Do you need to get that… am I intruding or something? You can let me know, I’m sure you’re practically booked and busy. Please don’t let me hold you up.”

“They can wait, you’re more important right now.” She turned slightly in her seat and her cognac eyes held his for what felt like hours. And she leaned closer into his space, holding that eye contact.

“You have the most beautiful eyes… they just seem never ending.” His stare intensified and he watched her smile dreamily at him, whatever effect he thought he had on her had been confirmed.

“You keep complimenting me like that and I’ll start to think you got a little crush on me Ms.Evans.”

“Would that be so bad…me liking you?” He shook his head and tucked a braid back into her bun fingers slowly grazing her neck. How bold of her,

“Only if I didn’t like you back.” He smirked and rubbed his fingers against her open palm watching her fingers twitch slightly. “You’re an amazing woman Marina… I’ve been interested in you for a while, but things just didn’t make sense then.” He thought back to a few months ago when he had initially intended on meeting her but he was busy trying to wipe a whole bloodline out at the time and that was time consuming.

Her eyes danced around his face as she listened to him intently, and his right hand rose to her chin to focus them, letting her lean into him to initiate a kiss. But she put her hands up pulled back slowly.

“But Terry what if-“

“Shh.. put your hands down and let it happen, let me in.”

His hands found her face and he pressed his lips to hers in a rush. Her tongue tasted sweet from her drink and the strawberry flavored lip gloss had him sucking her lips into his mouth like a savage. She gripped his shirt and he pulled her into him with a hand on her waist hand rubbing along her back soothingly, chest to chest heads turning left to right to increase the experience. He pulled away from her reluctantly and brought a hand to his lips to kiss.

“Give me a chance to court you and prove myself…if you don’t like what I offer you, then that’ll be it and I won’t bother you again, but if you do..I have so much to show you.”

“A deal is a deal Mr.Richmond..let the games begin.”

__

A/N: The girls called for Mafia!Terry??? HERE HE GO😗. Like and reblog if you enjoyed this🫶🏾

@venusincleo @grlsbstshot @yassbishimvintage @avoidthings @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @simplyzeeka @zillasvilla @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @theereina @keyaho @brattyfics @hotgrlcece @henneseyhoe @starcrossedxwriter @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @blackmoonchilee @invisiblegiurl @blackerthings @19jammmy @ovohanna24 @talkswithdesi @notc0rtez @becauseimswagman1 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @mysteryuz

#terry richmond #aaron pierre #terry richmond x blackoc #rebrl ridge

[sunrizef1]

Jackie and Wilson

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Warnings: mostly fluff, angst depending on how invested you get

Word count: 2.3k

Authors note: Jackie and Wilson by hozier btw, not proofread, also written at like 2 am

Charles wasn't having a great time. He'd just DNF’d out of his home race and now he was drowning his sorrows in alcohol at some random bar. He had to pretend to be happy though, considering he was surrounded by friends and coworkers who actually were having a great time.

However by this point, most of them were too drunk to even remember he was there. He was busy nursing a beer slowly, simply surveying the crowded bar.

He's moving to leave the place when suddenly his attentions caught by a loud laugh of someone entering the bar. He glances up, his eyes catching on you and his breath might actually stop for a moment.

You were beautiful. Your loud laugh echoed across the room toward him, entrancing him and pulling him in. You're smiling at the friend next to you and he's feeling the strange need to be the one you're smiling at.

He follows your figure as you make your way toward the bartop he's sat at, your friend walking away to talk to someone else. You come to a stop stood next to him and all he can do is stare like an idiot. Your attentions stuck on the bartender as you order and he waits impatiently for the moment you'll turn your gaze to him.

You order a martini and sit down at the stool next to him and Charles finally shakes himself out of his trance to stop the bartender before he can walk too far away, “Here, for her drink.”

The bartender takes the cash out of Charles’ hand and slides your card back over to you, knowing enough not to argue with Charles over this. You raise your eyebrows at the man next to you, tilting your head slightly at his confidence.

“You buy a lot of girls drinks?” you ask him, a slight laugh lacing your words.

Charles smiles in response, shaking his head lightly, “Not really, just had to do it for you.”

You blush, looking down at the floor abashedly. You look back up as the bartender hands you your drink and you take a sip in hopes of hiding your embarrassed expression.

“Do you live around here?” Charles asks, noting the abscense of his native accent.

“No, just visiting a friend,” you shake your head, taking a large sip of your drink, “Are you from here? Sounds like you might be.”

Charles quickly realizes you have no idea who he is and he leans toward slightly to keep the conversation going, “Yeah, born and raised here.”

You hum, taking yet another sip of your drink before setting it down with a clink. You turn even farther to your side to face him, “Is being incredibly hot a common trait in Monaco? Or is that just a you thing?”

He laughs, caught off guard at your boldness. His eyes trace your lips as you take another drink, almost reaching the bottom of your glass, “Do you wanna get out of here and find out?”

You bite your lip with a smile, glancing over to your friend before looking back at him, “I’d love to…”

He realizes your prompting for his name and quickly fills in the blank, “Charles.”

You perk up and stand from your chair, downing the last dredges of your drink, “I’d love to, Charles.”

Charles thinks he could listen to the sound of his name leaving your lips on repeat for forever.

“What’s your biggest fear?” Your melodic voice rings out in the silence of Charles’ room. He turns over in the bed to face you, eyes searching through the darkness of the room to try and find your eyes.

“I don’t like spiders, really,” He responds after a few moments of thinking. He watches as you glance toward the ceiling, thinking about his answer, “What about you?”

You look back toward him again, searching for a response, “Commitment, maybe.”

It’s not a particularly funny response but Charles still huffs a laugh, turning to pull you to his chest. You shift closer, eyes fluttering closed and head lying still against his skin.

Sleep comes easy for the both of you that night.

Charles’ eyes search his living room frantically, searching each surface thoroughly. He can hear the sound of your footsteps approaching as he moves the pillows around on the couch, tossing them toward the floor carelessly.

“What are you looking for?” You ask him, pulling on one of the many hoodies you had left at his house over your head from its position on the couch.

“My phone, can’t find it,” he replies absently, eyes not leaving the couch cushions. He can hear you approach him and suddenly your comforting hand is on his back. He looks up to see you stood quietly, holding his phone up in one hand.

He smiles down at you, grasping the phone from your fingers and pulling it away gently. But with the way you’re looking at him he seems to forget whatever important thing he had to do on his phone in the first place.

“Where was it?” He hums, eyes locked down on yours below him as he tosses the phone on the couch next to him.

“Left in in bed this morning,” you respond, smile curling up on your lips as you bring both of your hands between the two of you.

You push him back onto the couch and he wraps his hands around your waist to pull you with him. You wraps your arms around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his head.

“Glad you found it,” he doesn’t seem particularly glad about it now, more interested in you on top of him.

“You’re welcome, baby,” you respond and he takes a deep breath at the pet name, fingers rubbing small circles on your waist from their position on your hips.

You reach a hand up and run your hand through his messy hair, leaving Charles to admire your face as you focus on his hair.

The sun filters through the window, hitting your profile just right and Charles can’t help the large grin forming on his face.

He didn’t know a better feeling than your hands carding through his hair, soothing the previous craziness he had started to feel.

“Oh my god I think I saw him!” Charles snaps his head toward your outstretched hand, finger pointing toward a man walking suspiciously down the sidewalk.

Charles eases his foot off the gas pedal of your Lexus, letting the car roll down the road slowly.

“Are you sure that’s him?” Charles asks, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to see your friends boyfriend better.

Your friend had told you that she thought her boyfriend was cheating on her so here you and Charles were, riding around picking up clues. You had taken your Lexus since Charles’ car was way too identifiable.

“It’s definitely him, he’s got that giant stupid tattoo on his arm,” you reply, pulling out your phone to snap a few pictures of the man, “Can you follow him?”

Charles nods, turning the car slowly as the man turns a corner, making an attempt to move inconspicuously so the man doesn’t notice.

You start typing rapidly in your phone from the passengers seat, no doubt texting your friend who’s boyfriend you were currently following.

The two of you trail the man for a few blocks, watching as he suddenly walks into a restaurant on the corner.

“Park somewhere,” you call out, turning your head to watch him walk out to an outside table. Charles follows your order and parks the car strategically to where you can see his table through the front window of the car.

The man is alone when he sits down, not ordering anything and pulling out his phone to seemingly text someone.

It gets boring pretty quickly so you lean forward to connect your phone to the aux, deciding on some music to at least pass the time.

The opening notes of a Jackie Wilson song cut through the silence of the car and Charles glances toward the radio, completely unfamiliar with the song.

“What is this?” Charles asks over the sound of the American singers melodic voice. You look away from the man for a moment, a grin big on your face.

“Blues,” you laugh, bobbing along to the song. Charles laughs at your movements, watching as you dance happily, reveling in your joy.

The two of you let a few more songs play through, dancing around and laughing for the better part of an hour. Your attentions only diverted when you glance up and see a woman arriving at the man’s table.

You gasp, eyes widening as you pull your phone out of your pocket to snap a few pictures of the man and the woman at dinner in front of you.

“That dickhead!” you exclaim, turning down the volume of the radio in order to express your point.

Charles hums, eyes locked on the man and woman ahead, “He might not actually be cheating-”

Charles is interrupted by the couple sharing a kiss as the woman sits down and you and Charles lock eyes before bursting into laughter.

“I take it back,” Charles says as his laugh calms down, watching you pull your phone out for pictures once again. This time you catch a kiss and quickly send the picture off to your friend before sliding your phone away.

You seem content with your findings, choosing instead to turn your body and complain about the man you and Charles had been… stalking?

Charles smiles at the passionate look on your face as you defend your friend, putting the car in reverse to pull out of the parking lot.

As you drive home, Jackie Wilson blasts through the speakers, eventually causing the end to your rant as you start to sing along once again. Charles doesn’t know the music or even any of the lyrics but he does know that this is how he wishes to see you all the time, this happy.

When he envisioned your future together, a ring on your finger and two kids running around your house, he imagined you’d want to name them Jackie and Wilson and raise them on this music, rhythm and blues.

He might not be attached to the music or anything but watching how at peace you were made him think he’d grow attached to it pretty soon.

Charles loved racing, of course. But it was nice to escape sometimes. Escape from the stress and the pressures and the fears. Escape from the persistent fans and the expectant team. These days, that escape was you. You and your home in the middle of a field, black irises growing around the outside. Sunshine that shone perfectly down on the two of you as you lay side-by-side, hands intertwined between you.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Charles says, barely above a whisper as if he thought speaking too loud would make it all go away.

You hum, your free hand coming up to shield your eyes from the sun as you turn your gaze toward him, a smile drifting onto your perfect features.

“I love you,” you state, proudly, as if it was a simple fact that everyone would know, not an ounce of doubt in your words.

Charles grins, head rolling to the side to lock eyes with you. You blush under his eyes and a small laugh escapes your lips, lips that he so badly wanted to kiss in that moment.

“I love you too,” He eventually responds, his free hand creeping through the grass beside him, fingers wrapping around an iris before gently pulling the flower out of the ground.

Your cheeks heat even hotter as he says the words, your hand moving to cover your face. Charles pulls your hand away, moving your face toward him as he does. He slides the flower over your ear, brushing away a lone strand of grass as he does. His hand doesn’t stray from your face though. Instead, it rests against your cheek, pulling you in gently for a kiss.

You let him pull you, free hand flowing up his arm and over his shoulder to run through the hair at the nape of his neck.

Charles doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to love someone the way he loves you in this moment.

Images of your future flash through his mind once again, every milestone being pictures with you by his side. Kids, marriage, hopefully a championship. He only wanted it if you were by his side.

Charles’ eyes snap open at the sound of his door opening, watching as you slip through it before closing it gently behind you. No doubt off to go back to that friend you had mentioned you were visiting earlier that night at the bar.

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes that stay trained on his ceiling, thoughts running rampant through his sleep-addled brain. He slips out of the bed, moving to walk out on his balcony, hoping the fresh air will cool his heated face. He watches as your car moves away from the apartment, getting smaller and smaller as it moves down the road.

He doesn’t understand the sick feeling in his stomach as he watches you leave. He’d only known you for a few hours, the only thing he knew about you was your name and the fact you were leaving Monaco the next day. But he still felt like throwing up at the thought of a future between you that didn’t exist.

He eventually moves back into his room, trying his best to forget the random hook-up and fall back asleep. But as he moves to plug his phone in, he can’t help as he moves to play some music lowly through the device.

He finally gets his eyes to drift close, a Jackie Wilson song echoing quietly around the room.

—————————

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119

[wntrs0ldier]

AN OFFER II · 04

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 3,4k warnings: mafia, language, violence, mature themes, dark themes, smut, punishing, spanking, edging, toxic behavior,

Bucky brought his hand up to your face. “You know I won’t hurt you,” he said. His hand slid a little lower; it gripped your jaw, and his fingers dug almost painfully into your cheeks. “But,” he licked his lips, shrugging, “you lied to me. And you won't get away with it.”

series masterlist

The situation you got yourself into was strikingly similar to your last date with John Walker — you were sitting in a fancy restaurant, trying not to show how much you needed some man's favor. There were also a few differences; seated in front of you was not John, but Adrian Lancy, it was not about a marriage proposal and your future, but the future of your gallery, and most importantly, Bucky had no idea about any of this. Although, he knew you were going out — he would have noticed your disappearance anyway — but you told him you were having dinner with Connie. You didn't think Bucky would want to make sure that was really the case, but you preferred to be safe than sorry, and asked your friend to lie if necessary. Connie didn't even think about it; she agreed before you finished your sentence.

Earlier, you didn't see Adrian as a threat — he didn't seem like someone who would go too far to get his way. Nevertheless, you were all smiles between the meals. Why? Because facing the fact that you had a husband, rather than just imagining it, caused some unexplained change in him, and from a sensible young man you were pinning your hopes on, he became someone gripped by a obsession; his propositions for meetings sounded a little more aggressive, lost their previous lightness, and you eventually grew afraid. Not about yourself — whenever the ring on your finger entered your field of vision, you forgot about any fear. It seemed to you that no one could hurt you, not when you bore the name of Barnes. 

But the gallery was different.

“I'm going to Paris soon,” Adrian began. “On business, of course, not for pleasure,” he added, as if you were to take him for a man who has nothing to do but travel. 

“Mhmm.”

“I thought you could come with me,” he continued. Surprised by the processes that must have occurred in his mind, you raised your eyebrows. “You know about art,” he hurried to clarify, “and I'd love to buy some pieces for my new apartment. I will pay you for this service.”

“You know that there are people you can actually hire for this. People you won't spend that much on.” You tilted your head to the side, watching him carefully. “Because I am expensive. Very expensive,” you said, hoping to discourage him. 

“I want you.”

“Adrian…” you sighed. “I can't come to Paris with you just like that.” 

Not hiding his disappointment, he pressed his lips tightly together. “Well,” he shrugged casually, “if you don't go with me, you won't see any more of my money. And I'll make sure that no one will ever invest in you again. In short, I will destroy you, Y/N. So you'd better think it over and give me an answer by the end of the week.”

Refusing to let any negative expression cast a shadow on your face, you watched him. You couldn't give him the satisfaction, even if, when agreeing to this meeting, you didn't expect it to turn out this way. The change you feared earlier had just taken a full turn — much faster than you thought. “Sure.” You forced a sweet smile. “I’ll think about it.”

A waiter appeared at the table. At first you thought it was just a routine check; that he was making sure you weren't missing anything. Only after you gave him a little more conscious attention did you notice a bottle of wine in his hands. A very expensive bottle. As if Adrian wanted to let you know that he had the resources you needed, and that he was spending his fortune on something as unnecessary as wine, which was only meant to impress.

But Adrian seemed confused, too. “There must be some mistake. I didn’t order any wine.” 

“I was told it is from Mr. Barnes.”You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling an unpleasant warmth spilling all over your stomach. You stared at the bottle in a stupor. So he knew — Bucky knew very well where you were, which meant he also knew who you were with.

You weren't sure how long you had been standing in front of the door to your apartment, but eventually realized that such behavior qualified as absurd — the accompanying fear, that you had been convinced you lacked only a few hours earlier, was undoubtedly irrational. Or at least that's what you had to trick yourself into thinking in order to finally grab the door handle. 

You hung up your purse on a hanger and slipped the high heels off your feet. You were able to name at least five much scarier situations that had occurred in your entire life, yet you couldn't recall the last time you felt this kind of anxiety. You didn't even understand where it was coming from; after all, Bucky cared about you; he couldn't harm you. 

When you turned around, ready to go deeper into the apartment, Bucky was standing at the end of the hall, right by the exit. His damp hair, loose t-shirt and sweatpants, fresh wounds on his knuckles indicated that he must have been after training with Steve. You swallowed hard at the thought that Bucky, having found out where and with whom you were actually spending time, needed to beat something, in this case, fortunately, a punching bag.

“Was it good?” Bucky asked, approaching you slowly. “The wine,” he clarified. Without taking your eyes off him, you nodded cautiously, causing him to squint. “What is it?” His mouth curved into a playful smirk. “You’re not scared, are you?” 

“I can’t really tell…”

Bucky brought his hand up to your face. “You know I won’t hurt you,” he said. His hand slid a little lower; it gripped your jaw, and his fingers dug almost painfully into your cheeks. “But,” he licked his lips, shrugging, “you lied to me. And you won't get away with it.”

You gawked at him — at the stern expression on his face, at his darkened eyes and reddened, slightly parted mouth. Whatever he intended, you could feel yourself getting wet.

He grabbed your wrist; it ached from the power of the pressure Bucky wielded, but the feeling only intensified the sensation. He dragged you behind him, and you almost tripped over your own feet — he wasn't walking that fast; it was your limbs that seemed frail and numb. 

“Bed,” Bucky commanded as soon as you reached the bedroom. Massaging your sore wrist by instinct, you went in that direction, your steps wobbly. You settled on the middle of the mattress. Bucky came closer. “Turn around.” 

Captivated by his massive, heavy frame, under which you hoped you were about to end up, fascinated by the calmness and dominance he radiated, you couldn’t stop looking at him. 

“Turn around,” he said again, much slower than before. “I’m not gonna ask you again.” 

Your mouth went dry. Finally obeying his order — not in fear of the consequences, but looking forward to further development of the situation — you turned around. Bucky placed his hand between your shoulder blades and with pressure forced you to lean forward; so you landed on your knees, additionally supporting your hands on the mattress. 

He lifted your dress above your hips, a quiet snort escaped his mouth. “You fucking kidding me?” Bucky clicked his tongue disapprovingly, shaking his head, hooking his fingers under the hems of the lace pants you were wearing. He pulled the material lower, completely exposing your ass, sending a wave of heat over your entire body. 

You got up one knee first, then the other, making it easier for Bucky to strip you of your underwear. Then, he grabbed a piece of your dress and pulled you to him; as your hands detached from the mattress, he reached for them and tied tightly with your pants. The fabric, digging into your wrists, turned out to give you a surprising amount of pleasure.

Bucky pushed you forward again, this time far harder. Deprived of the possibility to support yourself, the front of your body fell on the bed, while your ass still remained up. All you could do was turn your head to the side — other than that, you were completely helpless, dependent on his mercy.

It seemed, however, that he didn't have any for you. You realized this when you felt a sharp, piercing pain, accompanied by a loud clap — Bucky’s hand landed on your ass cheek, and it landed hard. Shocked by this new and unfamiliar sensation, you shouted, your eyes filled with tears. 

Bucky spanked you again. Your body trembled, and only a muffled gasp came out of your mouth this time. 

Another slap — you felt your skin burning and stinging in that spot, getting more and more tender; you were painfully aware of this as his hand, once again, smacked your ass rapidly. You moaned, your back arching, your pussy almost dripping, asking to be filled. But that sweet torture was nearly as good. 

“More?” he rasped, breathing heavily. You weren't sure how to respond; he was punishing you, so if you asked for more, would he actually give you what you wanted? And if you refused, would he stop? 

“Y/N,” Bucky pressed. 

“More,” you replied quickly, your voice weak. 

“More what?”

At that moment, your mind wasn't in the best place for the logical, coherent sentences he always expected from you. “I want you to spank me more. Please,” you exhaled.

“You don’t wanna talk, so I’ll make you use your words. Make that pretty mouth of yours work.” 

Bucky fulfilled your request, and you almost jumped up on the mattress, clamped your eyelids shut and let out a loud whine — that one was definitely stronger than the others, causing goosebumps all over your heated body. 

The bed sunk behind you, signaling his arrival. The t-shirt he had thrown off landed silently somewhere on the floor. Your lips parted, releasing a long moan as the tip of his cock brushed hard against your wet, throbbing cunt. He buried into your core painfully slowly and lazily; you felt his hardness spreading inside you, filling all the space you could give him. 

Bucky clenched his hands on your hips and began to thrust into you. The pain radiating from your cheeks mixed with the surging pleasure, creating a combination you could quickly become addicted to. Gasping loudly, he pounded into you again and again; immediately he reached to your head, slipped his fingers into your hair and tightened them there. He turned your head to the side so he could see at least part of your face — the changes taking place on it. He wanted to control your pleasure. Because as you, stimulated by spanking and waiting, began to get closer to an orgasm faster than you could expect, Bucky suddenly stopped. He slid out, leaving behind only emptiness and a devastating lack of satisfaction.

“Jamie, please-” you choked out. 

“Don’t Jamie me,” Bucky replied sternly. He leaned forward, putting the weight of his body on yours. He pulled your head slightly away from the mattress, his mouth hanging right next to your ear. “You lied to me today, Y/N.”

You nodded immediately, ready to agree to everything he wanted. 

“You know that what you did was wrong? Hmm?”

“Yes. Yes, I know. And I'm sorry.”

“I don't want your sorry. I want you to never lie to me again. You are my wife and I won't have it, do you understand?” he said, the words seeping out through his teeth. 

“I understand, but please-”

Bucky clenched his fingers harder in your hair. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“You promise what, Y/N?” he inquired impatiently, although at that moment it seemed like he had all the time in the world.

Taking another deep breath, you gathered the strength and all the concentration you had in you to say those few words he cared so much about. “I-I promise to never lie to you again.”

Bucky moved slightly away, left a kiss on the nape of your neck, then straightened up. He entered you again, and again you felt that blissful fullness. At first you got the impression that he was still fucking some discipline into you, but the rising sensations made you think that he was actually rewarding you for understanding your mistake and promising to do better.

In that position — with your hips up — his dick quickly found the right spot and hit exactly where it needed to. Wet, well lubricated with all your juices, it was sliding in and out smoothly, bringing you more rapture than you could beg for. With loud, desperate cries, you were praying to your god, taking his name in vain — the one who was just fucking you senseless. Because Bucky couldn’t be just a human; he was too perfect, too beautiful, too merciful as he forgave your sins. 

You clenched around his cock, your eyes rolled back as consciousness left your mind. Apart from the overwhelming release, you also felt Bucky's load spilling into you; he, too — with a few last thrusts — let out a few whimpers, crowned by a throaty growl, and his body slumped against yours. His chest, pressed to your back, rose and fell as he tried to normalize his breathing. He pulled away from you to free your wrists as quickly as possible; your hands dropped lifelessly, too weak and too useless.

“Let’s clean you up, hmm?” Bucky suggested; surprisingly gently for the man he was just a moment ago. 

“I want to stay here,” you muttered with half of your face still in the bed sheets. Once again you felt his body pressing against yours as laid a tender kiss behind your ear.

You woke up to an empty bed. 

Your sore body covered with a blanket, the curtains closed. The watch on the nightstand said four in the morning. 

The urgent need to use the toilet dissuaded you from further sleep. You didn't feel fully awake until you were in the shower — as the warm water washed over your body, you wondered where Bucky had gone at such an early hour. You hoped that three months of hard work in Italy would give him some more space here in New York.

You got out of the shower, removed the remnants of your makeup, brushed your teeth, then returned to the bedroom. Curiosity was stronger than tiredness, besides, you felt rested enough, maybe even too awake for any more sleep. You put on one of Bucky's t-shirts, rummaged from his side of the closet, and left the room. You didn't have to search for long — the warm glow pouring out of the living room immediately caught your attention.

Bucky was sitting on the couch — under the light of the lamp standing over him, he was looking through some papers scattered on the coffee table. Full concentration on his face, marked by a deep wrinkle between his brows.

“What are you doing?” you spoke. 

He glanced up at the sound of your voice. “Checking the account statements from Sapphire Dune and Marble Aurora.” Rubbing his eye, Bucky sighed with clear tiredness. 

Your forehead creased as the names of your father’s casinos rang in your ears. You haven't thought about them once lately, so you wouldn't expect it from Bucky either. On the other hand, your Family's affairs were now his concern. 

With your arms folded across your chest, you walked closer to the couch and peeked at the documents. “Something wrong with them..?”

“No,” he assured, smiling softly. “They’re doing really… decently.” 

“So maybe I should stick to them…” you murmured. 

Bucky raised his eyebrows, watching you with a surprise. He reached out his hand to you in an inviting gesture. You took it and sat down right next to him; so close that your thighs touched. He didn’t say a word, waiting for you to tell him everything that was bothering you.

“I lied to you earlier too,” you confessed. “I lied that I don’t need money. And it’s not like I have to close the gallery in a week or something, but…” You gasped. “Some funding is always useful. And Adrian seemed like the perfect sponsor until-” you hesitated, shrugging. “But now he is acting weirder than ever and-”

“Did he do something to you?” Bucky asked right away, interrupting you.

“No, he didn’t,” you protested. “A couple hours ago, he offered me a trip to Paris,” you began, and Bucky’s forehead furrowed at those words. “He said no one will ever invest in the gallery again if I turn him down. And I can't afford it, I can't ask for your money, because I want to make money, not take it out of the house-”

“Y/N, you make money,” Bucky claimed, demonstratively lifting one of the papers. “It's all here,” he added, his brows drew together. “Besides, is using my — our — money really worse than selling your time to this fucking creep?” 

Feeling more and more resigned, you let out a heavy breath. “Bucky…”

“You don't like him, you don't feel comfortable around him, the business isn't going as you would like it to. Or am I wrong?” He was looking at you expectantly, although he didn't actually need any confirmation — he saw the answer written all over your face. He touched your cheeks, his fingers spread on your skin, his thumbs caressing your cheekbones. “You are my wife, and it is my job to take care of you. You have to let me do exactly that, Y/N.” 

Staring relentlessly into his eyes, filled with sincerity and concern, you took his hand off your face and placed a tender kiss inside it, brushing your lips over the scar there; the scar bonding you forever. “Okay,” you whispered. 

You pulled your legs up onto the couch and snuggled into his side. Bucky put his arm around you and rested his cheek on the top of your head. 

A silence settled in, filled only with your peaceful breathing — it didn't bother you or Bucky, since neither of you felt the need to break it. You thought it would be much more difficult; that you would need far more time to get used to him, especially after his last absence. But having a huge couch with plenty of space to occupy, you decided to deprive yourself of whatever space there was.

“Are you going to elaborate, in any way, on what you did to me earlier..?”

“Elaborate…” Bucky repeated. He exhaled, blowing some of the air out of his lungs, then rested his head on the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “I've wanted to do it since that night when I saw you in that little nightgown of yours.” He raised his brow. “And that's about it.” 

You sat up straight, your eyes on Bucky’s face. “That night?” you asked in disbelief. “As a punishment for what?”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Did it really feel like a punishment to you?” 

Even if you were able to answer him without hesitation, you looked away to think about it. Or pretend to think about it. You bit your lip.

“Did it feel good..?” Bucky inquired, his tone gentle and careful. 

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Very good,” you said, not sure if you should really admit it. “We can do it more often,” you suggested, and Bucky’s eyebrows rose instantly. Taken slightly aback, he peered at you with sudden liveliness, his eyes sparked with fascination that struck him like a speeding train. “What?” you laughed softly, but then understood something — you always sensed a gentle restraint in him, keeping him in check; the chains holding him down. Now, you were able to hear them break. Was it you who destroyed them? Your innocent permission?

Bucky smirked, shaking his head, letting you know he wasn’t going to be too harsh on you. But as harsh as you’d allow him to be. 

He leaned forward, putting his forearms on his knees, and reached for one of the papers so he could return to analyzing the documents. You clung to his back, placing your chin on his shoulder blade. He immediately located his free hand on your arm, wrapped around his torso. 

“Go back to bed,” he said, his eyes still focused on the statements. 

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No, of course not,” Bucky assured right away, “but aren’t you tired, sunshine?” He turned his head as far as he could to glance at you at least from the corner of his eye. Taking the opportunity, you stretched out further, to reach his face, and planted a few quick but tender pecks on his cheek, making him laugh softly.

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446 @learisa @sjsmith56 @aya-fay @hhiggs @wishingwell-2 @buckysgirl01 @emily-roberts @prettylittlepluviophile @leaaa008 @itvy5601 @melsunshine @pattiemac1 @marvel-fandom23 @rabbitrabbit12321 @xsecretsirenx @heyyitsreign @xhollycowx @samfreakingwinchester @thrnlvr @samjuarezzz @loustan90 @kandis-mom @abaker74 @gabshouse @casa-boiardi @globetrotter28 @fand0mskullfa1ry @iateall-yourcookies @swordofawriter @theroyalmanatee @midnightvitality @thebuckybarnesvault @milanaasblog @itsmytimetoodream @talesofadragon @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @bbiaa420 @funkybarnes @sebastians-love @walkingwithoutreason @hereticdance @abitofblues @purple-vegan @queenashen @oqueano @yourdryadwife @lethallyprotected @abbyyourlocalmilf @sapphirebarnes @matchat3a

[cod-dump]

Nikpricegraves thoughts, special delivery!

Nik getting more grey in his hair, and neither Price or Graves wants to bring it up, because they don't know how Nik feels about it. They dom't want to make him feel self-conscious.

So they wait. And Nik finally brings it up, very casually (fronting like hell) musing aloud that he might color the grey so people don't think their evac pilot is too old.

And maaaaybe Price and Graves wanted their responses to be a liiiittle more restrained, a little more level-headed. But they weren't.

Price: You are not TOUCHING that silver--

Graves: Like HELL you're--absolutely not!

Price: Anyone lucky enough to have you picking him up has no right to complain about that!

Graves: And it's sexy as hell anyway!

Price: Exactly, you're fuckin gorgeous.

Nik: ... Thank you?

Nik was a very confident man. He was sure of himself, comfortable in his own skin and almost never doubted himself. But seeing the thin stripes of silver in his hair… he wasn’t too confident on it. The reality of him being old was setting in and he wasn’t very happy about it.

Nik never gave the thought of him getting old much thought considering he didn’t think he would get this far, especially not with his constant flirting with death. He never thought about how he would feel about growing grey, and now that it was here, highlighting his temples? Nik felt his heart squeeze, uncertainty making his chest tight.

Worse part was that neither his husband or boyfriend had mentioned anything about the grey, which just added to his uncertainty about it. He’s caught them whispering about it, both immediately cutting themselves off upon noticing him. He’s caught them staring, again no comments about it. Nik knows they had noticed it, of course they did. They notice everything new or different about him, most of the time even before he’s noticed it.

He didn’t like their silence and was choosing to assume the worst. But he kept quiet, just like how they were choosing to stay quiet. The topic of greying hair wouldn’t come up until one night while they ate dinner. He couldn’t help but stare at their own hair, how he would’ve noticed if John had started to grey (surprising he hadn’t by this point). The silver would’ve been noticeable amongst his dark brown hair, within his beard. It would be undeniably attractive.

Phil greying would been less noticeable considering his golden hair. There would’ve needed to be quite a few grey hairs before it was obvious and even then it would blend nicely with the gold strands. It would add to the American’s charm. Both would carry silver has crowns yet… Nik couldn’t determine that about himself. Couldn’t see himself with it, even as it took residence within his hair.

“I think I need to start investing in hair dye.”

The speed in which Phil turned his head to look at him made Nik fear he would break his neck. John just froze mid bite, eyes looking up to stare at him. Nik kept his usual level of smug confidence about him even though he wasn’t feeling anything remotely similar. Phil swallows his food, taking a deep swig of his water before he glares at him.

“Over my dead body.”

Nik blinked in surprise, his facade cracking.

“Nik, my love, if you do that you’d break my heart,” John added, staring intensely at him.

Nik looked between his partners before he cleared his throat, “Right-“

“Nikky, I’m serious,” Phil said firmly, “That silver is so fucking hot and if you dye it I’ll probably cry.”

“I second that,” John said very seriously.

Nik couldn’t help but laugh at their seriousness. Phil stood and walked behind him fingers going into his hair which of course caused Nik to lean back and practically melt. John stood as well and walked over.

“Should’ve known something was up when you hadn’t said anything. Big, bad Nikolai, insecure over some grey hairs.”

Nik huffs, closing his eyes as Phil continued to play with his hair, “I am not insecure.”

“You just said you wanted to dye it.”

Nik huffs, he could hear Phil’s smirk. He mustered up an unamused frown, which was immediately chased away by a well placed kiss from John. Nik was choosing to be annoyed in order to hide how relieved he felt about their approval. The two would probably pry that confession out of him later when it wouldn’t add onto their smugness over his unusual lack of confidence.

“You might want to prepare for when we return from leave, the boys are definitely going to say something when they notice.”

Nik snorts, “If they have a problem with their transport getting grey then they can cry about it.”

“Cry and complain, with bad jokes on the side.”

By the time they returned from leave, Nik would regain his rock solid confidence. And some jokes of his own because what is an old man without his jokes?

[carowleysposts]

Good Omens makes me feel scary things. Let’s talk about it.

So, before I start, I think it’s important to clarify that I am neurodivergent. I have autism and GO is one of my strongest hyper-fixations ever. I am so emotionally and mentally invested in it I could talk about it for days on end and every single detail of this show makes me love it more.

But there’s a really really dark flip side to this love, and I would love to see if there’s anyone else who struggles with it too:

I think I care a little too much.

Although I am aware that this is somewhat “common” for people in the spectrum and my doctors all have confirmed I am not a complete nut case for it, I almost never feel comfortable admitting to those in my life that a piece of fiction has such a strong hold on me and my mental health. And as much as I love everything we’ve seen so far, all the little things I hear and read about season three give me heart-stopping waves of anxiety that are definitely not normal.

Like, I am constantly scared of what will happen, as if it was happening to me. And I know it’s embarrassing, but my brain is simply wired differently, and it feels so awful not being able to talk about it with my friends in real life.

Sometimes I feel like my day is ruined because I read someone say that they think S3 won’t have a happy ending, or that they probably won’t kiss or end up together or something bad like that. And even though I know it’s just fiction, it gives me stomach knots, as it is such a powerful part of my life and I think about is so much.

I have even come as far as to take breaks from Tumblr and mute some words on some social media platforms so that I won’t read Neil’s responses to questions - because they ALSO make me fear terribly and give me crippling anxiety, like when he said it won’t be romantic, or when he says stuff that make me worry for the future - and won’t hear speculation or even be reminded of other stuff people say.

And before anyone asks: Yes! I am fully aware it sounds absurd. And yes, i absolutely do feel crazy and embarrassed about it, but unfortunately this is the reality of many people in the spectrum and many neurodivergent people in general.

I do work, I am a ballet teacher and an author, so of course I have many other things to worry about and do and of course I have a life full of responsibilities and relationships and different pursuits to keep me from actually thinking about it nonstop. But still, even though I am busy and distracted most of the time, every now and then these feelings and worries come and punch me in the gut, and it completely paralyzes me for long moments. I feel kinda sick? I don’t know.

So I guess what I am trying to ask is: do you guys know of anyone who feels the same? Like, is there anyone else who feels like their mind has been absolutely taken over by fiction-related anxiety? And also: what should I do about it? I feel like absolutely no other piece of fiction compares to this one, and my mind simply won’t stop.

Help pls.

[randomyuu]

the way it follows you home, the stories i never told

My guy Vox once again graced us with lovely Goyuu fanfics, and the way it follows you home, the stories i never told, made me go FERAL.

Time travel? Two Gojou Satorus? Double affection for our sunshine Yuuji? Yuuji sandwich? What feels like possible continuation of (you'll whisper, serpent tongue) what you fear you have become???

FUCK.

I need to stop indulging my imagination too much. I should’ve been content with writing long-ass comments but noooooo, my brain goes “you gotta draw it”. DAMMIT VOX, YOU AND YOUR DELICIOUS WRITINGS HHHHHH

So… usually I should’ve picked a favourite scene that is within my drawing capability, but I just… love all three chapters??? So I made a questionable time investment? I can’t stop??? Help???

This is probably the most ambitious fanart project I’ve ever done so far. Fair enough, considering I might combust if I keep these welled-up emotions inside from reading Vox’s Goyuu fics. Fuck.

Fic info:

Title: the way it follows you home, the stories i never told

Author: @voxofthevoid

Pairing: YuuGoGo. Future!Yuuji, Future!Gojou, Teen!Gojou

(idk why I laugh writing YuuGoGo. I’m beyond help)

Currently, it is 3 chapters out of 8. And it’s gonna be NSFW chapter 4 onwards, so don’t forget to read the tags first, folks!

The drawings are under Read More, because I have lots of thoughts surrounding each chapter and drawings. It’ll be hella long if I didn’t hide it here. It was a mess down there. A combination of hours before, during, and after I read said fic. I’d say good luck finding the art among the sea of jumbled words but… you’ll find them easily. Don’t worry about it haha

SPOILERS FOR ALL 3 CHAPTERS! I highly recommend reading those first before diving into these drawings!

Also for the comics, read from right to left please!

From here on, I will be referring to the Future!Gojou as Gojou and the teenage one as Satoru.

Overall, drawing all these is fun! Really fun! This project pushed me quite hard, forcing me to test my limit (because I rarely draw this much back to back). Since this is a combination of drawings and comics, the coloring style will not be consistent. In a way, I want to try some brushes I never get to use, as well as try out my new graphic tablet. Drawing these got me giggling because I was finally able to let loose during line art. It's much easier to do so, and sometimes I just get to reread the fic and giggle to myself for the nth time.

CHAPTER 1:

Whooo. Whooooooooo—

Ok, ok, the premise is just that good. It intrigued me, fascinated me, and I just… oomph. I cannot refuse a Time Travel Yuuji Sandwich. Sign me up.

Honestly, there are two scenes that are just… a bit too clear in my mind when reading this chapter. That would be the one I drew above, and the other is when Yaga called Gojou to come outside of the class. I love, loooove how Vox wrote Satoru’s POV. And when Yuuji fucking giggles?

I lost it.

Can you imagine, drawing Yuuji grins, with shiny stuff, maybe some sunlight, just purely happy and indulging Gojou?

Help me, for I am drowning in my love and adoration for Yuuji.

Page 2 is an experiment on using harsh black as shading (kind of?). I really enjoyed colouring Yuuji, and drawing those buffalo skulls! I wish I can grasp the concept of contrast a bit better tho :v

CHAPTER 2:

This is probably the only chapter where I picture still images instead of comic panels. A bit like those cool chapter covers in mangas. The one I really, really want to draw is the scene with Satoru on the table. Can’t pass the opportunity to highlight Satoru being a brat, albeit a really cool brat.

Cool idea drawing always proves to be a challenge, because of course my artistic skill just so happens to be below the requirement. Thank you, Sketchfab, for the chair and desk’s perspective otherwise I’m screwed lmao

The second scene that I want to draw the most is this:

Gojou is one step away from climbing Yuuji. Also, I have a bit of a problem picturing a man pouting that makes him look crazy instead, so please have Gojou pouting adorably instead. Because, as Yuuji said (with love), Gojou is (also) a brat.

This is possibly my favorite art in this project, after Yuuji's in Chapter 1 page 2. It's clean because I don't have to draw background, and I was having a fun time drawing Yuuji. And Gojou's squishy cheek as well.

Oh, actually, there is a “manga” scene in this chapter. It’s when Yuuji said, “I love Satoru.”

I just—

AAAAAHHHHH YUUJIIIIIII YOU AND VOX ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME. That secure relationship between Yuuji and Gojou? Satoru’s description of how Yuuji’s smile could blot out the sun??? Not me screaming 💀 I also see bits of hints of possible co-dependency, though I could be reading those wrong, but either way I’m good. Secure and possessive relationships are fun to consume hhhhhh

But yeah. There are too many wholesome Yuuji smiles in this fic, and I… I am not confident enough to draw genuine happiness. It’s too much for me ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

For this chapter, another reason why I chose these two scenes is just because I want to try and draw cover-worthy pictures of Yuuji and Satoru, and Yuuji and Gojou (cough)

CHAPTER 3:

We start the chapter with Nanamin. Ah, Nanamin. I forgot what his teen self looked like and was surprised to see his design again lmao

I want to draw Yuuji and Nanami scene because… I just want to, I guess. I have never drawn him before (Yaga as well) so that's an interesting challenge. I got two ideas on how I want to draw it. One is a bit painting-esque, and the other one is like another chapter cover. In the end, I chose the cover one because I want to emphasise the difference between teen!Nanami and the Nanami from Yuuji’s original timeline, and how the watch feels like a connection between the same (yet not) person. It’s a bittersweet feeling? In a way?

I’m not really good at explaining my intention ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

I love Yuuji’s answer to Nanami's question.

AND FINALLY.

A Yuuji SandwichTM scene.

And oh B O I do I love it. Have I told you I like every chapter? I probably have. But this one? Satoru’s curiosity, Yuuji’s on-brand self-deprecation, and Gojou come strolling down to show more of Yuuji to his mini-self. I want to draw this whole scene, from Gojou finding them, feeding Yuuji snacks, bitch-slapping Satoru into the backroom, to Yuuji growling. Them trying to hide a boner from Yuuji’s growl got me cackling so hard I LOVE IT 😭

I love it all. Please love Yuuji in my stead, Satoru and Satonyan :3

Oh! Also! 40-finger Yuuji sounds really, really cool! I’ll be happy with whatever Vox will give us in future chapters, but 40-finger Yuuji… possible scene with this timeline’s Sukuna… my god. The action! The drama! The bloodshed! One can only hope.

However, as much as I love that whole scene, it’s still too much for me :”) I’m still not yet confident in delivering the humour and action. Also my already-long drawing plan had my brain groaning in protest so I can’t push my luck :'D

When Gojou said "He looks sweet, but he's a bit of a beast", I kept picturing Yuuji staring innocently, but there was an edge to his look. As if the moment Satoru looks away, he will pounce. But in the end I just stick with innocent-looking Yuuji because I accidentally drew his eyes that way and I want to keep it in lol

Since Satoru points out how soft and cuddly Yuuji is, I also want to draw soft Yuuji :v

And the last one… is the last scene. For some reason, I read that both Gojou and Satoru share Yuuji’s lap and was having a frustrating yet fun time figuring out how it’s… physically possible, without having their butts on the ground because they both are not small at all. As I lined the art, I reread it again and… perhaps I read it wrong? Satoru is beside Yuuji, and not on his lap? So yeah, this one might be the least accurate, but hey, at least you can view it as a crack drawing or something :v

AAAANNNDDD I HAVE EXCEEDED TODAY’S BRAIN CAPACITY OF FORMING WORDS

Have I told you I love this fic?

…I probably have.

Have an amazing week (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*

[brettanomycroft]

Signals from Somewhere Else

After episode 22 of Protocol, there’s one thing (okay, maybe two things) that everyone is going to be talking about. But I don’t want to talk about that thing (yet. Okay, I lied, it might come up). Instead, I want to dive into some of the implications of this week’s case and how they might relate FR3-D1 [Error], and even Isaac Newton.

Spoilers for TMAGP episodes 21 and 22 below the cut. CW: we’re gonna talk about the brain stuff; probably overuse of the words “fleshy” and “wet” by I blame AJN for that.

Our case in this episode, graciously recounted by Peepaw Augustus, focuses on real-life German psychiatrist and neurologist Hans Berger, whose work led to the invention of the EEG and furthered our understanding of how brainwaves work. The experiment described in the case mirrors actual experiments that Berger completed while working at the University of Jena, including experimentation on a subject with a deformity that allowed easy access to the brain and the placement of silver wires under the scalp to measure electrical activity. Even Berger’s disappointing initial results seem to be in line with history.

Like in real life, the cosmic horrors of this case begin when Berger takes a little depression nap.

The description of “an ocean, deep and unforgiving… full of dark secrets” creates a striking image to be sure, but what’s more interesting to me here is what he recalls next: the “radio signals, invisible and unknowable.” Berger laments that it’s a “shame these two things would never meet,” and then proceeds to enable such a thing to happen, whether he realizes it or not.

He wakes up and is immediately “inspired” to alter the setup he is using to record Herr Schmidt’s brain activity. While Berger is unable to explain how he came up with the idea (we could tell him: it was The Horrors, bud), he transforms his recording device (an early version of an EEG) into a two-way wireless telegraph, using poor Herr Schmidt’s brain as the receiver for the very radio waves that, perhaps, were never meant to make contact with the world below. Berger sent a politely phrased request into the void, and the void screamed back.

Who or what was on the other side can only be guessed at. Was it John/Martin/Jonah, individually or Frankensteined into some horrid chimerical conscience (please read this great post and have your heart broken like me)? Was it The Fears of the Archives-verse, recombined and tossed about like naughty pears in a pear wiggler? Or was it something or someone else entirely? I’m leaning towards JMJ, in parts or as a whole, specifically because I suspect that Hans Berger’s strange (and wetly explosive, thanks Alexander J. Newell) discovery provides a clue to how [Error] and possibly FR3-D1 operate.

Let’s start with [Error]. Here’s what we know about them so far:

They were locked up in tunnels or a basement space under the Archivist’s office at the Manchester Magnus Institute

Something about them causes people, dead and alive, to recount their fears or horrible things that have happened to them (I am not using the word compel here, even though it is used in the transcript for episode 21, and that is on purpose)

They seem very invested in getting the entire story out (this is, admittedly, speculation, as it’s unclear as to whether “THERE IS MORE” is in reference to more victims or more of Gwen’s story)

They have some really weird dogs

I’ve seen a lot of folks speculate that [Error] is or was the Head Archivist in the Protocol universe, and I’ve also seen a lot of folks speculate that [Error] is or was John (and therefore also The Archivist). I think either of these could be true, but more than anything, I think [Error] is a high-powered antenna with the ability to turn the people around them into speakers. Or maybe Speakers? I do love a good capitalization.

What if the “esteemed brethren” of The Magnus Institute were all too aware of the unusual results of Berger’s experimentation, and hoped to tap into the unusual consciousness(es) floating around in the radio waves and ether of the universe by creating their own version? Perhaps they thought they could create a direct conduit (think almost like a psychic medium) through a person, someone who might be able to communicate with whatever is out there and be able to relay its/their esoteric knowledge to help further the Institute’s goals of “Universal Transmutation.” We know already that the Institute was interested in doppelgangers and perhaps alternate universes and that they had a lot of irons in the fire (the Millenium Dome, the gifted child programme, Welling’s Mutare Materia research program, the various outreach centres), so it would hardly be surprising if they were also experimenting in communicating with “the beyond” to try and gain more knowledge.

And maybe it worked. Maybe they were able to create or transmute someone into an antenna, capable of receiving these strange signals, except these mixed signals were too powerful and ultimately took over. Perhaps [Error] is the natural consequence of who or whatever was speaking to Berger finally getting “OUT.” And if who or whatever was speaking to Berger happened to include the fractured consciousness of a hungry Archivist, well then, we have an interesting case for [Error]. [Error], whether or not they were an/The Archivist in this universe, could now be directed by the desires of The Archivist, channeling The Archivist’s thoughts and abilities but with a power greater than that we ever saw in John (or, perhaps, the same power but completely unrestrained by his remaining humanity). Or [Error] could be channeling The Fears themselves, bringing parts of them through not unlike they were brought through in The Magnus Archives.

Either way, I doubt that creating a connection between whatever was out there and the physical world led to the results the Institute was hoping for.

[Error] is receiving the signal to feed, but the signal coming through is so loud and so powerful that instead of politely asking to snack on some horror stories, coming into contact with them instead allows them to pick up on a person’s horrible experience and forces them to broadcast it to the world. It’s possible that, upon creating [Error] or losing control of [Error], those at The Magnus Institute locked them up and cut them off from the dangerous signal they were receiving… Sam accidentally poking a big hole in the floor (and the alchemical signals inscribed in it) could have reestablished the connection between [Error] and the force guiding them.

Now let’s talk about FR3-D1. We know that FR3-D1so far is that it

Is a “bespoke” internet software developed sometime in the mid-90s, apparently designed to search the internet for spooky stuff

Has German source code

Crashes, constantly, much to Colin’s dismay (? Or maybe he’s helping those crashes along to stop it from listening in… but that’s a theory for another time)

Has, within the last year or so of Sam joining the O.I.A.R., started running a text-to-speech program that reads certain cases out in one of three voices, two of which are familiar to anyone who has listened to The Magnus Archives

Occasionally has some unusual .JMJ errors

Seems to be “targeting” Sam with specific cases related to The Magnus Institute

Is believed to be “listening in” by Colin, Alice, and Sam (which is supported by what we know as the audience)

Has been working “better” since Colin has been on mandatory mental health leave

May have some connection to the Stasi, the secret police force of Communist East Germany before the fall of the USSR

Is assumed (by us as the audience) to have some kind of sentience

There are some other items (notably the spreadsheets found in the ARG that appear to be from or connected to FR3-D1and the emails Sam and Gwen have received) that could be connected to FR3-D1 but have not yet been confirmed. Yet aspects of FR3-D1 do seem to share some commonality with [Error], namely a level of sentience and the ability to locate the stories of people who have had horrifying supernatural encounters.

My speculation here is that FR3-D1 and [Error] were both constructed using the same premise or with the same goal in mind: to receive and channel the signals of entities or consciousnesses existing in or coming from “Somewhere Else”: FR3-D1 through a supernaturally or alchemically conceived software program, and [Error] through a supernaturally or alchemically conceived transmutation on a living human.

If this proves to be the case, then the results seem… distinct, albeit with the potential to be equally dangerous. FR3-D1 is more “controllable” and could potentially be better able to separate out the signals being received, manifesting as “Augustus,” “Chester,” and “Norris.” Now these “three” could still be part of homunculus-esque JohnMartinJonah consciousness, but perhaps the computer program is a little more stable and delineated than the fleshy wet mess of the human brain, and therefore what remains of each individual consciousness is able to act more distinctly and independently. In contrast, [Error] (and their fleshy wet mess of human brain) is receiving the signals all mixed and jumbled together, with no failsafes to keep them from “overloading” or being entirely taken over by The Horrors or JMJ or The JMJ Horrors. Given their spectral descriptions, it’s possible that fleshy human brain and body couldn’t take it anymore and, pun intended, gave up the ghost.  

[Error] could be, in some ways, a bodiless, mindless soul acting on a confused mess of instinct and hunger; FR3-D1 is then, perhaps, the elevated mind, in (more) control but disconnected from a body and perhaps from a soul. Given the heavy influence of alchemy in The Magnus Protocol and the importance in alchemy of the number three, the Tria Prima, and the balance of mind, body, and soul, there may be a third entity we have yet to meet who, like FR3-D1 and [Error], are tuned into these signals from beyond and is eager to reunite with the rest… or perhaps FR3-D1 and [Error] are looking for a body of their own to inhabit and find balance (Sam, anyone?).

I feel like I myself am beginning to mix the signals I started with, but before I attempt to wrap this up, I do briefly want to throw one more piece of spaghetti on the wall, because I think it’ll wind up being something: the mention, specifically, of the silver wire the Berger used in his experiment.

It was Dr. Caton who recommended that Berger use the silver wire, as silver is known for being an effective conductor of electricity. Silver also holds importance as one of the seven metals of alchemy and as a possible base metal in the creation of a Philosopher’s Stone. Perhaps equally important here is that the Diana’s Tree, also known as the Arbor Philosophorum, is created using a solution including silver (or more accurately, silver nitrate) and mercury (one of the elements in the Tria Prima)… yep, the (sort of) same spooky tree created by Newton in TMAGP 19, where Newton gave his dog an existential crisis and Robert Hooke was like “burn it all down.” The conclusion we could draw here is that silver is used in both TMAGP 19 and TMAGP 22 to connect organic life to the unseeable Knowledge of some other plane… with potentially disastrous effects.

Whether it ends up being the case that FR3-D1 and [Error] are big antennas wirelessly receiving The Horrors or I’m totally off base, it seems pretty clear that Hans Berger “tuned in” to an unusual—and dangerous—signal, and what’s more, enabled that signal to connect with the Protocol world in a way that likely never should have happened.

[kobrafangs]

i've been compiling a bunch of maze runner headcannons over the past few weeks, and i decided to share what i have so far :) fyi most of these are ivytrio centered heheh ^_^ enjoy!!!

- newt would be a big oatmeal fan. he'd have it every day and put cubed fruits and maple syrup in it too. thomas prefers a plain toast with butter and always teases newt for "being an old coot"

- minho is rlly extra and likes to make these fancy pancakes that frypan taught him how to make

- newt would be addicted peach tea. every morning he goes to the convenience store and he buys a bottle before class

- newt loves bracelets and he made a matching pair for him and thomas :] (minho, newt, & thomas also have separate matching bracelets!)

- newt does poetry & art. he carries around a little sketchbook in his satchel where he jots random thoughts and sketches. his muse is thomas <3

- newt likes musicals & claymation/stop motion movies (his fav is dear evan hanson or kubo and the 2 strings) & thomas likes action movies (his favs are starwars or the spiderman movies)

- their fav movie to watch together is fantastic mr fox or coraline

- thomas and minho are both on their school's track team

- thomas downloaded duolingo as a joke but now he feels guilty if he misses even a single day so he has a daily streak of 479

- thomas almost threw up crying watching end game (he forced newt to watch it with him as well)

- thomas prefers calling/face timing over texting and he will do everything in his power to call

- he's also like the least coherent texter of all time He always has like 90 spelling errors in a 4 word text

- newt doesnt like calls but is also the driest texter of all time

- minho sends those corny Good Morning! gifs with a sunset in the background and glitter and flowers on it

- minho studies hard, passes his classes

- newt barely studies, passes his classes (hes just smart)

- thomas doesnt study whatsoever, passes his classes somehow

- minho has legible, normal-but-a-bit-wonky handwriting

- newt has a slanted cursive scrawl

- everything thomas writes is illegible

- minho has the dirtiest mind known to mankind

- when frustrated, minho gets really sassy, thomas gets snappy and fidgety, and newt just goes silent

- minho would go on 5 am runs and post a picture of him on his instagram story all sweaty and smiling and put the dumbest caption of all time on it

- thomas cannot eat unless he puts on a show

- minho scrolls on his phone and texts people while he eats

- newt raw dogs every meal No stimulation whatsoever. pure silence

- thomas is extremely ticklish. like hellishly ticklish. he will literally scream like hes getting stabbed and kick his feet if he gets tickled

- ivy trio stays up until like 3 am playing horror games. thomas is the one who always screams bloody murder at literally any noise, minho keeps yelling at thomas to shut up, and newt is the only one actually playing the game. they also love roblox

- minho and thomas play dress to impress and they get way too invested in it

- newt & sonya braid daisies in each other's hair

- thomas likes having his hair played with

- thomas likes chewing gum, specifically bubble gum because hes actually 8 years old and likes to blow bubbles

- newt looooovessss libraries he'd literally live in one if he could

- minho unironically says "where my hug at" to thomas and newt

- newt is usually the little spoon but he knows thomas likes it too so sometimes he insists on being the big spoon just so thomas is happy

- sun thomas, moon newt, comet minho

- thomas isn't allowed to play fnaf anymore because the last time he did he got jump-scared so hard he threw his phone against the wall so hard it made a hole

- thomas's favourite pony is pinkie pie, newt's is applejack, minho's is rainbow dash

- newt has a fear of heights so thomas and minho always have to beg for him to go to an amusement park with them

- danny gonzalez thomas, drew gooden newt, kurtis conner minho

- minho always quotes random tiktok audios that nobody gets so at one point he just started making up really specific ones that catered to whatever situation they're in and then proceed to gaslight newt and thomas into believing they're real

- dog thomas, cat newt, otter minho

- THOMAS TMNT FAN RAAAHHH

- newtmas' favourite date was an aquarium date. thomas is absolutely captivated by all the fish and newt is so enamoured

- newt would probably like manga (he really enjoyed saiki k, chainsaw man, and sxf)... its his guilty pleasure

- on minho's aforementioned morning runs, he BLASTS pop music thru his headphones. because of this he's literally almost deaf. he always goes "huh" "what?" "say again?" whenever talking to anybody but it especially makes newt so frustrated

- also. minho would love charli xcx SORRY I DONT MAKE THE RULES!!!! he really likes pop music because it gets him pumped up and energized

- when thomas is focused, his speech gets really curt and he kinda shuts the world out because hes so tunnel visioned. as a result people think hes just really rude and a pain to work with

- only newt can work with him effortlessly because they don't need words to communicate. a slight nose scrunch? thomas knows he made a mistake. quirk of the brow? newt nods his head to show his approval. thomas taps his fingers against the table? newt can tell he's frustrated. their relationship can be tacit but understood by one another which is why they work so well with each other

- thomas LOOOOOVES karaoke he literally will not hesitate to belt his heart out

- when thomas blushes, he blushes HARD. he gets really red in the face and gets super embarrassed and newt likes to tease him for it

- when drunk, thomas gets really chatty, newt becomes clingy, and minho turns into a whole nother person he gets SO rowdy and loud and crazy. life of the party kinda guy

and thats all for now hehe !! ^_^ hope these were entertaining enough :p

[pineappleciders]

i fear there is little way to describe my recent experience in the bathroom. or potentially, there are far too many ways to the point i cannot collect my thoughts. it started out as a simple pee. i went to the restroom quite happily, having been playing a game and believing it would be a quick, simple trip. but i was proven wrong, as i usually am. it turned out to be a poop as well. though it wasn't a bad one, it was rather small and easy to pass, and wasn't too bad of a wipe either. however, i was foolish and became distracted watching a video on my phone while wiping. this tragically led to me placing far too many pieces of toilet paper in the toilet bowl without flushing. i soon realized my mistake and, like a fool once more, decided to hope for the best and flush. however, it did not go down. it's fine, i thought. i'll wait and try again. so i did, and it did not go down. hm, this is unfortunate, i think. so i grab the plunger, blissfully unaware to the hellhole i had began falling into, believing this was just your average clog of the toilet. but it wasn't. i soon remembered a fool in my household, which i later learned was my mother, had made the conscious decision to swap the plungers in the bathrooms. this is a problem because, the one that was in my current restroom is a good plumber. the other one is not. and so, i found myself fruitlessly shmacking the hard, useless plunger into the bowl time and time again. but it was no good. i was so determined, so full of hope that it would work as i had made it work before. but this clog was different. i began to grow more desperate as my arm was quickly becoming exhausted from the strain, and i switched to 2 arms, yet there was still no luck. at this point, i had begun sweating, the reality dawning on me that this would not go the way i had hoped. i remembered a trick i learned, about putting soap and hot water into the back of the toilet seat, which helps break the clog up. so i looked around for a cup, an item usually kept in the bathroom, to scoop water from the sink to the toilet. but there was no cup. i put a few squirts of soap in the bowl and waited, but with each flush the water grew higher and higher, reflecting my nerves. but a spark of something like hope flickers in me as i spot the sink drain stick made for unclogging sinks. it's a bit gross, but i'm running out of options, so i go for it. i feel as though it's working quite well, as i can see toilet paper being ripped, but with flush and flush again, it only worsens. i have been in the restroom for far too long now, mostly waiting for water to slowly go down, and at this point i'm sure the energy drink i left on my desk has gone lukewarm. i start to full on panic now, honestly on the verge of tears. i am tired from lack of sleep, very hungry, my back is in extreme pain, and i feel disgusting as a few bits of toilet water have splashed on me. i consider asking for help from my dad, however the thought of walking downstairs with shit stuck in between my asscheeks is extremely unappealing, so i carry on. i turn on the tub and start scooping hot water into the back of the toilet. it burns my hands, and i am now getting water everywhere, but i cannot stop as i begin feeling like a wild animal. i try and try and try but all of my efforts are wasted. and i fear i knew all along what i had to do, i was simply pushing it away out of pure fear. but i suck it up and wrap a towel around my waist and leave the bathroom, still not having wiped fully, and lumber to the other bathroom to grab the good plunger. and lo and behold, with only a few pumps the water is quickly sucked down. and i would have felt immense joy, if it weren't for my extreme annoyance with myself that i did not do it sooner. i am extremely traumatized and i don't think i'll be able to look at my toilet the same way for at least a few months. my dear friends and followers, i urge you to invest in a good plunger. one for every bathroom you have. a new, soft, flaccid plunger. it will betray you less than any man.

[lorei-writes]

Queen's Diary

Chevalier & Queen Michel Queen Michel's POV Gen Fic; Character Study ~500 words Chevlebration Day #2: Royalty/Brothers

I wondered what the last few days before Chevalier's birth were like for Queen Michel... and that seemed like a good place to reference the court, the royalty, and the importance of a heir. >:)

Content Warnings: pregnancy, childbirth

I cannot wait to meet him. I am certain I am carrying a boy, I can already feel it. The name, however… I have brought up the matter with my husband, but he does not seem particularly invested in the matter. Well, that is bound to change once he sees our little Chevalier.

October 27th, 18XX

Dear Diary,

You alone can be the keeper of the entirety of my thoughts. Were I to tell dear Leticia… No, no, I shall not even think of the idea. I fear the consequences. I truly cherish her friendship, but this girl, she is too hasty, far too hasty. Regardless, I do believe I soon shall be rid of any reasons for complaints.

It has been around nine months since my last blood. My belly has swollen significantly, although it appears that my babe has begun to move down. The palace physician believes I will be due in a week at the absolute most.

I cannot wait to meet him. I am certain I am carrying a boy, I can already feel it. The name, however… I have brought up the topic with my husband, but he does not seem particularly invested in the matter. Well, that is bound to change once he sees our little Chevalier.

October 29th, 18XX

Dear Diary,

I am rather restless. I woke up today to hear that my husband has departed for an inspection, although nobody I asked was able to specify which territories he may be visiting.

My baby has been lively. It will happen soon, I am sure of it. My husband will be back just in time to meet our precious boy, his firstborn and the rightful heir to the throne. Until this delight washes away any unsavoury memories, my Leticia will be there to support me.

I am the Queen and I have every intention of upholding the dignity of my position. My babe will be a boy. He will be a boy… My little knight, my sweet Chevalier…

October 31th, 18XX

Dear Diary,

My husband wrote the ministerial office. He’ll be back in a week.

I think it’s starting.

November 2nd, 18XX

Dear Diary,

Yesterday, in the wee small hours of the 1st of November, I bore a healthy boy. My prince cried loudly – the midwives claim his lungs must be strong. Chevalier fed well off his wet nurse and was handed to me after a bath. His skin was red, but has paled since the delivery. He was born without hair. Leticia assures me he is a handsome boy, so I shall believe her. The babes… I was unaware of how fragile they are.

You are just what we have been missing, my knight, and now that you are with us, I am sure my husband will have a change of heart. Who could refuse your tiny hands? Even those dreadful ministers and the nobles, they too will have to acknowledge me… You will only bring me happiness, Chevalier. You’re the true start of our family and I cannot wait to bring you more brothers.

Dividers

Ikemen Prince Masterlist

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[robinette-green]

Robin's Inside the Pizza Plex DCA Romance Fics

These are fics I've started that take place inside Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizza Plex. The call is coming from inside the plex!

A Door You're Unable to Close:

(tag)

My best friend talked me into coming with her as moral support to her little brother's birthday party. I hadn't wanted to go to that stupid birthday party to begin with and now I'm trapped in a video game, a horror video game that might kill me. I thought at the time that it was ironic that a kid named Greg had gone missing in a Chuck-e-Cheese of all places but this is taking things much too far.

Invisible:

There's nothing like working for a corporation in a capitalist society to remind you that you are nothing but furniture and need not be perceived unless needed. Even the animatronics in this place are treated more human than I am. At least I'm on the same level as the staff bots… that's a plus? Though usually, people prefer to speak with a staff bot over me, so I suppose 'even' is the lie I tell myself. I've worked for Fazbear Entertainment at their pizza plex for about a year. I do a little bit of everything. Cleaning, repair, sales… even security sometimes. Most of the human workers have been replaced with robots to cut down on employee costs. Sometimes I think I'm the last human working here, but then I remember Vanessa still works here too. Sometimes I wonder if they just forgot to fire me or tell me I was fired, but I'm still getting paychecks, so… yeah. The time clock beeped an acknowledgment as I punched in my employee number. "Attention! Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex is closed! Have a pleasant evening!" Sighing, I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and took a long swig of my coffee.

The Star Dome (LateNight DayDreams):

An OC named Fey is a new animatronic that has been added to the plex.

Another Daycare Story:

This is another of your reader x Sun/ Moon Pizza Plex daycare stories. We start with a 20-something individual getting a job in the daycare and having to overcome a fear of animatronics. There will be some angst with Moon. Then the romance will begin. Eventually, we'll hit the events of the game and go through all that fun, but until then, this will be mostly random fluff and angst shenanigans in the loose shape of a story as our main characters fall in love.

Little Assistant:

MC is the assistant to the CEO of Fazbear Entertainment. As Vanessa kidnaps and kills children while attempting to bring Springtrap back to life, MC is forced to clean up the mess and cover up the disappearances. MC is also tasked with keeping an eye on the Daycare attendants, keeping them in line as they are forced to help kidnapping children. “Did you do it? How do we know if it worked?” “We’ll have to test out some command code on him. Everything uploaded without issue, but they do have minds of their own. He may put up a fight.” I wasn’t paying attention to the conversation, wanting as little to do with this as I could get away with. They had already forced me to help with so much, cleaning up all that mess, all that red, covering up the disappearance. Shuddering, I looked through the glass into the daycare beyond. Deep in the dark, I could see two red eyes glaring out at us, furious. I couldn’t blame him. The virus they had activated in the night mode daycare attendant was going to be used for something horrific.

Lost Time:

The reader, already in an established relationship with Sun and Moon, dies and wakes 5 years later in the body of an animatronic. The pizza plex was rebuilt after the collapse and fire. Due to some miracle, all of the animatronics had survived the disaster and were now back to work, entertaining the general public as though nothing had happened. After everything fell apart, children stopped disappearing, but the missing children were never found. Business was booming, and everything seemed to be better than ever. With the massive influx of money, Fazbear Entertainment decided to invest in a new animatronic, a drummer for the band, to add to the rock and roll feel of the Glam Rocks. But in the way of all things with Fazbear Entertainment, the acquisition of this animatronic was very confidential. Several none disclosure agreements were signed, and the whole thing was very shady. None of this mattered to me, of course. I was more worried about my new role in life. Well, it was life in a sense. I had finally woken up after 5 years to find myself strapped to a chair in parts and services, having been turned into an animatronic.

Lost in the Dark:

Working third shift for security wasn’t so bad. I spent the first few hours patrolling the halls of the upper floors, that being what I had been assigned. Then I would spend the rest of the night at the security desk in the daycare, cameras pulled up on the computer screens and keeping an eye on the ‘crazy’ animatronics that inhabited that colourful playground. 6 months of working night shift in the daycare, and I am unfortunate enough to have developed feelings for two clueless robots.

Bad Day:

I stopped with my hand on the door. I had come all this way on my day off and now I wasn't brave enough to push the doors open. Today had been a hard one. A nightmare the night before and some rough conversations had made my insides feel all squishy and tender. All I really wanted to do was lay on the floor and cry but something had brought me here, to the daycare.

Taking Time:

They needed a robotics expert and I needed a job. I had been between jobs. I had actually just been let go from my last job and was frantically looking for a new one when I had received an email from Faz Bear entertainment. They were looking for a robotics expert to run their parts and services lab. The pay was phenomenal but I would be the only one working in the lab and would be expected to keep the staff bots, animatronics, arcade games and all the automated systems in working order. I didn’t even hesitate a moment before I sent them a reply and agreed to an interview for the following day. Great pay and an entire lab to myself? Yes please.

Why is it Spicy?:

okay so... this is an AU of my Unpleasant Nightmare fic. I started this as a joke for myself but now we're here. The general idea is the same. Stuck in Security Breach and need to find a way out but Sun and Moon are extra flirty and handsy.

Out of Place:

Fosters and Green is an up and coming robotics company and is the talk of every news station in the world. They haven’t even released their first line of robots yet but people are already clambering to get their hands on a robot made from Foster and Green. They plan on releasing a few household bots that will work as cleaning staff or secretaries but they also plan on releasing a line of child care bots. Why hire a nanny when you can have a live-in one you don’t need to pay. My designated number is D-375, I have been dubbed Kate by the technicians who ran all of my quality assurance checks. My dreams of working with a family of my own were quickly dashed. Foster and Green decided that they wanted to place a bot somewhere in the public eye where people could watch it at work and so had partnered with another company who also made robots, though they specialized more in animatronics that were designed for entertainment. The two companies decided to put one Foster and Green’s N-90 models in the daycare center of Fazbear Entertainment’s PizzaPlex to work alongside the child care units that Fazbear Entertainment had created.

Taking Over:

They needed a robotics expert and I needed a job. I had been between jobs. I had actually just been let go from my last job and was frantically looking for a new one when I had received an email from Faz Bear entertainment. They were looking for a robotics expert to run their parts and services lab. The pay was phenomenal but I would be the only one working in the lab and would be expected to keep the staff bots, animatronics, arcade games and all the automated systems in working order. I didn’t even hesitate a moment before I sent them a reply and agreed to an interview for the following day. Great pay and an entire lab to myself? Yes please. I was hired on the spot. This wasn't surprising seeing as I had worked in robotics for most of my life and had some hands-on experience with these kinds of animatronics. The AI units that Faz Bear uses would be new to me but I was sure I could figure out the new tech quickly enough.

Unpleasant Nightmare:

My best friend talked me into coming with her as moral support to her little brother's birthday party. I hadn't wanted to go to that stupid birthday party to begin with and now I'm trapped in a computer game, a horror computer game that might kill me. I thought at the time that it was ironic that a kid named Greg had gone missing in a Chuck-e-Cheese of all places but this is taking things much too far.

Some of these won't be finished and some are OLD writing of mine. you have been warned. Please don't let that stop you from reading these and enjoying them <3