#i will have to cut contact with her because

[sacrednova]

Drive me home | Simon "Ghost" Riley | 4

fem!reader | In this story, a young woman mistakenly texts Simon "Ghost" Riley, thinking he's her Uber driver after a wild night out. Despite his gruff, reserved nature, Simon shows up. Contains fake screenshots with texts messages and calls!!!! Start reading from the beginning: Part 1 | Part 2 | part 3

Simon was on his way. The same mysterious, masked man who’d ghosted her texts and made her heart race for weeks was now on his way to pick her up. She clutched her phone, trying to keep calm as her friends, despite barely standing, noticed her sudden panic.

“What’s wrong with you?” Lottie asked, steadying herself by holding onto her arm. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Her eyes darted away as she tried to brush it off. “Uh, it’s nothing. Just… kind of a weird story,” she muttered.

“Oh, hell no,” Alexa cut in, her eyes bright with alcohol and intrigue. “Out with it.”

With a sigh and a helpless shrug, she finally spilled the story, trying to keep her voice steady. “Remember last month? When I said I got a weird Uber ride?”

“Yeah, yeah, with the mask guy,” Lottie chimed in, barely containing a giggle. “Wait—that’s him?!”

“Uh… yeah,” she admitted, cheeks burning. “And when I tried to text him ‘hello’ like a week later, he just… never answered.”

“Girl, and you still have him in your contacts? Under ‘Simon personal uber’?” Alexa teased, snickering.

Her cheeks flushed. “Look, it was just an inside joke with myself! I didn’t think I’d ever need to actually call him again!”

Just then, a truck pulled up to the curb, headlights cutting through the dark street. She glanced over, her stomach doing a flip as she recognized it instantly. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

Lottie and Alexa, their grins wide and very tipsy, leaned close. “That’s him?” Lottie whispered, her voice barely containing her glee.

She nodded, feeling like her heart was about to launch out of her chest. “Yep… that’s him.”

Her friends dissolved into giggles, making absolutely no effort to hide it. Alexa poked her side and whispered, “You know, if you’re this flustered already, maybe you should just go for it. I mean, the masked Uber thing is kinda… hot?”

She shot her a glare, her cheeks heating even more. “Oh, my God, shut up!”

As Simon stepped out of his truck, she swallowed hard, wondering if the ground could just swallow her whole instead.

The universe was out to humiliate her, no doubt. Because instead of swallowing her whole, it had spat her out and stomped on her. There he was, standing tall and unreadable under the streetlight—a face mask covering his mouth, a black cap shadowing his eyes, and… a military uniform.

So that’s why he was awake at 5 a.m., she thought, her mind racing. Of course, he’s military. Everything about his stone-cold demeanor made perfect sense now.

“Oh, so you like soldiers now?” Lottie teased, not bothering to whisper.

Her heart dropped as she looked up and met his gaze. His stare was intense, focused directly on her like she was the only person there. And he’d definitely heard Lottie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” she hissed, trying to look anywhere but at him.

Millie, still a giggling mess, squinted up at him and muttered, “Uwber?”

Without missing a beat, Simon looked back down at her and answered, “Apparently.” His tone was deadpan, and she swore she caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes behind the mask.

And that was all he said. A quiet, towering presence, letting the silence stretch uncomfortably, all while his gaze stayed locked on her.

God, why was that so hot?

The next thing she knew, her friends were piling into Simon's truck like they owned it. Before she could even process it, they had her shoved into the passenger seat, wedged close to Simon with her heart thumping embarrassingly hard. Her friends, meanwhile, were giggling and whispering like they were at a sleepover, eyes sparkling with tipsy mischief.

And, of course, they had to try making him talk.

Lottie leaned over the seat, resting her chin on her hands with a sly grin. “So… Simon, was it? You’re, like, a real Uber driver, right?”

A long, deadpan silence. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, unamused. “…Sure.”

Alexa chimed in, barely holding back her laughter. “Do you always drive around with the hat and mask? Gotta say, it’s got… a certain vibe.”

He said nothing, just kept his hands on the wheel, looking painfully unfazed.

But then, of course, Millie had to deliver the ultimate question. In her slightly slurred, fearless way, she looked over at him and asked, “Aaaand wha’? Wha’s your type, Ssssimon?”

She wanted to die. She glared daggers at Millie, mouthing a very obvious FUCK YOU in all caps, while Millie only giggled harder.

A few seconds of silence stretched like a lifetime. But then, to her shock, he finally spoke.

“Reckless,” he said, eyes flicking just briefly in her direction.

The word hung in the air, heavy and almost taunting. Her cheeks flamed up, her mind spiraling. He went right back to focusing on the road, unreadable and quiet as ever.

Oh, God.

She was not the shy type. Never had been. But right then, with Simon’s gaze cutting through her, she felt her face heat up as if she’d never flirted a day in her life.

“Oh, you did the impossible, Simon! You made her blush!” Millie slurred from the back, grinning like she’d just won the lottery.

Millie, I swear, you’re dead to me.

Simon, to her surprise, looked even less amused, but he kept driving, eyes focused straight ahead, not saying another word. They went on like that, him in his silent concentration and her doing everything to avoid his stare, as he dropped Millie off first. Millie stumbled out with a wave and a sloppy “G’bye, Uber,” giving Simon a wink that he definitely ignored.

Next was Alexa, who leaned in for an exaggerated, tipsy goodbye, pressing a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “You’re the best,” she whispered, giggling as she stumbled out into the night.

Finally, it was just her, Simon, and Lottie, who hadn’t said a word in a while. The quiet was odd, especially for Lottie, who was never one to stay silent long.

Then Simon’s voice broke through the silence, calm but resolute. “She’s asleep.”

“What—oh. Right.” She twisted around and saw Lottie, slumped against the window, practically drooling.

“…You need to wake her up,” he said, his voice that same low, unamused rumble.

She blinked at him, feigning ignorance. “What?”

He exhaled, sounding downright annoyed. “Wake her up. Your friend. She’s asleep. Drooling on my window.”

Oh, for the love of— “Right, okay,” she mumbled, reaching back to shake Lottie awake.

Lottie stumbled out, muttering a half-asleep goodbye and thanks, barely making it through her front door. As she disappeared into her house, the truck lurched back into motion, and that dreaded silence settled in like an unwelcome guest.

Her heart pounded as she tried to string together any words that might cut through the heavy air. What do I say now? Do I thank him? Apologize? Do I tell him I’m sorry a thousand times?

She swallowed hard and started. “I… I didn’t know she called you. I thought she was calling an actual Uber.”

“It’s fine,” he said, his voice flat, eyes locked on the road.

“Like, honestly, it’s my fault anyway because… well, I still had you saved as ‘Simon Personal Uber.’ I know it’s stupid, I just… forgot to change it.” She bit her lip, wanting to say more, to explain away the joke. “I didn’t think we’d even talk again, so…”

He didn’t respond. She fidgeted, regretting every word coming out of her mouth.

“Because, you know… you ghosted me,” she finished, the words slipping out before she could stop herself.

She winced, instantly regretting it as the weight of his stare fell upon her, cutting through the dim light of the street. It was that same steady, unreadable stare she’d seen before, and now, with the truck idling at a red light, he turned to face her fully, eyes piercing and unyielding.

“I ghosted what?”

She froze, feeling her pulse quicken under his stare. Oh, God. Did I really just say that?

A rush of heat flooded her cheeks. “You… ghosted me?” Her voice barely a whisper, more question than statement now.

He held her gaze, the faintest glint of something amused flickering in his eyes. The light turned green, but he didn’t move.

Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but edged with something unreadable. “Guess that’s a new one for my book.”

A smile tugged at her lips, barely there, but real. And somehow, in the quiet that followed, she found herself feeling strangely comfortable.

The moment he started to drive again, she was laser-focused on her phone, her fingers tapping furiously as she composed a text to Millie:

She didn’t expect a reply since Millie was likely face-planted in her pillow, but that didn’t stop her. She spammed away.

She chuckled, shaking her head at her ridiculousness, but God, it felt good to let it out. A giddy, nervous energy buzzed through her.

And then, the truck rolled to a stop in front of her house. She glanced over at him, feeling his eyes on her, heavy and unwavering. That silence settled over them again, but this time, she knew she had to break it.

“I’m paying you,” she declared, trying to sound firm.

“No.”

She huffed, searching for a reason. “…Please?”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“The second time sounded like a question, love.”

Her heart skipped at that one word. Love? Had he actually just called her that? She could feel her cheeks heat up. What was happening to her? Since when did she get so flustered over a single word?

She fumbled, desperate to say something that wouldn’t sound completely ridiculous. “Just… let me… just the gas?”

He only shook his head, and she felt like she was grasping at straws, anything to keep this moment alive. She wanted to laugh it off, maybe tease him back, but nothing came. She was too focused on those eyes, the way they seemed to look straight through her, keeping her pinned in place.

Finally, she managed to blurt out, “I texted you.”

“Hm?” He looked at her, just slightly tilting his head.

“I texted you. You didn’t answer.” Her voice was softer now, almost apologetic. She wasn’t sure why she was even bringing this up; it wasn’t like she had any right to feel hurt over it. They’d barely even spoken, but still, it had stung.

“Wanted to talk about something?” he asked, his voice steady and unbothered.

She laughed nervously. “Maybe.”

“I don’t like texts.”

Her face fell. “…Should I have called you?”

“No.”

Damn. That one stung even more than she expected. She felt ridiculous, embarrassed for pushing the conversation this far. Idiot, idiot, she thought, mentally kicking herself as she opened the door to step out. “Right… shit, sorry.”

She turned, flashing him a weak smile as she stepped onto the curb. “Thanks. Sorry. Bye!” Her voice was high-pitched, her nerves showing through as she scrambled away. She felt a sting in her chest, like the silence he left her in had weight, pressing down on her.

But then, as she was halfway to her door, she heard him mutter, just loud enough to reach her: “…I like bourbon.”

She froze, turning around to look at him in disbelief. She could barely see his face in the dark truck, but that one line hung in the air, giving her just enough of a lifeline to feel like maybe—just maybe—she hadn’t embarrassed herself completely.

She could hardly contain herself as she watched his truck disappear down the road, and just like that, her phone was out. She juggled it in her hands, struggling to keep hold of it without dropping her keys and everything else she’d somehow managed to carry inside. Her fingers fumbled over the screen, but she didn’t care—she had one thing to say, and she typed it out without overthinking.

As soon as she hit send, she felt that familiar mix of nerves and excitement bubble up. She locked the door, kicked off her shoes, and stumbled through her evening routine, her heartbeat racing more from the message she’d just sent than the drinks she’d had. She’d just settled into bed, sighing as her body finally relaxed, when her phone buzzed.

Her eyes widened, barely believing he’d actually answered, and so quickly. She hadn’t even thought that far ahead, but the words sank in, full of promise.

A surge of thrill rushed through her, making her grin like an idiot. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, heart pounding.

She held her breath, not sure what he’d say, or if he’d say anything at all. But then, her screen lit up.

She sank back into her pillow, clutching her phone to her chest. That blunt, matter-of-fact reply shouldn’t have made her this giddy, but damn—straightforward men were just so hot.

NOT ME FINISHING MY SHIFT AND POSTING THIS PART EVEN AFTER I SAID I’D POST IT ON MONDAY. I just don’t know the word rest... anyways, love you all, really ♥

[activesplooger]

I have a special request if you’re up for it

summary: you and Adam have this mutual attraction towards each other, but the main reason you won’t take the first step is because you know how high his sex drive is, which wouldn’t be too much of a problem if you weren’t so vanilla. You liked tenderness, praise, gentle touches, and you just don’t entirely trust him to be very accommodating.

do with this what you will, please and thank you

thanks for the request! this prompt was amaze! <33

sorry it took so long for me to do this its been a hectic week (america core)

hope you like how this turned out :]

__

You and Adam were... complicated, to say the least. Having been friends with Eve, you've heard all about his "inadequacies" in Eden. You thought he was this vile, cocky, arrogant asshole with no redeeming qualities. And then you met, and yeah that's pretty accurate. But, alas, there was an instant attraction.

Eve took you out a few weeks ago to a party hosted by Heaven's elite, a party you'd usually never attend on account of being a lower class angel. So many of Heaven's highest powers were there: seraphims, arch angels, virtues- and the first man himself, Adam. Eve scoffed as he approached, the colossal angel striding up with a cocky grin.

He was beautiful; rugged features, a messy fluff of hair, a nice smile- truly the man. For a moment, you were infatuated... and then he had to open his mouth. The cocky angel bends down to meet face to face with you, "Eve, who's the babe?". Eve rolls her eyes, "No, Adam.". "Fuck do you mean "No"," He says in a mocking voice.

Straightening his posture, he scoffs, his full stature towering over yours. "I mean no, you're not gonna 'cum 'n go' with this one," she asserts sternly. "Cum and go?" he feigns innocence, "I would never-". Before he could finish his sentence, Eve cuts him off, "Adam, I've told her everything about you and us, she's smarter than to get with someone like you". He groans, "Ugh! God dammit! You're such a cock-block Eve!".

Eve's head snaps to the entrance of the party, watching as a tall blonde woman walks in. "Lillith!" she exclaims, beginning to walk in her direction. Shit, was she gonna leave you with this dickhead? You grab her arm and pull her back to you, "Don't you dare leave me-". She smiles softly and chuckles, "C'mon, you're smart enough not to fall for his crap. You can deal with him for a few minutes, I'll be back before you know it!". "But-" you try to protest but she had already strode halfway across the room. Pivoting back towards Adam, your once again met with his smug gaze.

"So," he steps closer to you, "this party blows. I get cock blocked and both my ex-wives show up? Lame.". He grabs you chin and lifts it, "Wanna get out of here?". "What? No!" you respond, a bit offended at the implication. Adam removes his hands off you and holds them up in a gesture of surrender, "Alright, sugartits. Heard you loud and clear. Guess I'm just gonna go and leave you allll alo-". He turns around and pretends to leave, trying to coerce you into leaving with him. "Wait!" you call out. Eve was the really the only other person you knew and she had left and you hate being alone.

He turns on his heels slowly to face you, the ever-present smug look plastered on his face, "Oh? What was that?". You huff and avoid eye contact, "Fine. Let's gooOOOO-". He grabs you by the arm before you an continue and yanks you along as he shoves through the crowd of angels. Usually, this isn't your thing. But, you naively figured you guys would just make out behind the building or something for a bit.

And just like you had thought, Adam takes you out back and presses you against the wall, crashing his lips against yours in a heated kiss. It took you a minute to adjust to his feverent pace, trying to match the same energy that he put into his embraces. His tongue invades your mouth, pushing its way past your lips without permission. Entangling his tongue with yours, soft moans escape your lips.

His hands snake their way under your shirt, kneading your breasts through your bra softly. Okay, this was escalating really fast- As he goes to undo your bra clasp, you pull back and try to pry his arms off you. You chuckle nervously, "Uh let's maybe slow down a bit...". He looks back with his eyebrow quirked up, a confused look on his face,"Huh? What do you mean "too fast"?".

The angel chuckles in a taunting manner, "Wait? What'd you think we were gonna do back here?". "I-I don't know, make out?" you reply. "Look, Babe, I'm looking to screw," he pokes a finger between a hole he made in his hand while wiggling his eyebrows, "I'm not here to share feelings or snuggle. Got it?". He leans in for another kiss but you stop him by pressing the palm of your hand to his lips, "Yeah, I'm gonna pass.".

Adam scoffs and pulls back, crossing his arms over his broad chest arrogantly, "Fine, your loss anyway.". "Bye, Adam," you say with a sigh as you walk away. "Fine, bitch," he mutters.

__

Since that day, you and Adam have had many encounters, each one identical to the last. He'd hit on you, you'd reject him, and he'd act clueless as to why. Although the attraction is surely there, it would never work between the two of you. Adam's high sex drive could never work for your vanilla self, and there's no way in Hell Adam would ease up on fucking for even a day, let alone for the duration of a relationship. Besides, it's not like he's looking for anything serious.

One day, you run into Adam again in the promenade. The two of you get to talking, laughing, flirting - the usual. He makes and advance, and you reject him, just like every other time. But this time, he snaps. The angel throws his hands up in the air, "I don't fucking get it! You always do this shit!". "Heheh, oh Adam I'm just gonna flirt with you and then totally leave you high and dry! Hehe!" he says, mocking your voice. "That's really what you think I'm doing?" you narrow your eyes at him. He scoffs, "Oh be fucking real! You're such a tease!". "A tease? You're just pissed because I don't want to fuck you!"

He looks at you incredulously, "Do you know how insane you sound?!". "Are you serious? Whatever, I'm out," you turn to walk away. He grabs your forearm and effortlessly pulls you back to face him, "Excuse me? Did I say we were fucking done here?". You try to pry your arm away from him, however, it's pointless against his relentless grip, "Let go, Adam.". "No," he states firmly, hand engulfing your arm tightly, "I wanna know why you're rejecting me.".

You exhale sharply and run a hand down your face in exasperation, "Look, you're a nice- well- you're and okay guy, Adam. We have good chemistry it's just...". "It's just what?" he questions roughly. "It's just that your sex drive is so fucking high! I don't want that, I wan't a relationship with love and tenderness-". "That's fucking dumb," he interrupts. "Exactly! We want different things, so let me go!".

Adam's eyes widen, shocked at the thought of you leaving, "What? No! I can be tender! I prommy! C'mon give me a chance.". "Pft," you chuckle, "not falling for that.". "Falling for what? I can be a real fuckin' romantic!".

"Yeah, right," you chuckle, unconvinced by his promises. "Babe," he grabs your smaller hands in his large one, "one date, that's all I ask! And if it doesn't rock your world then you'll never hear from me again.". You hesitate for a moment. Never hearing Adam's nagging sounds great, plus he'd probably take you out somewhere nice... A heavy sigh escapes your lips, "One date. Somewhere nice, bring flowers.".

"You got it, sugartits!"

__

Adam followed up on his promise. He texted you to be ready at 5 tomorrow and wear something nice. You didn't know where he would be taking you, he'd simply state that "its a surprise".

The following day, the clock struck 5 and you immediately heard a knock on the door. Swinging the door open, Adam leaned against the door frame with the biggest bouquet of flowers your've ever seen. "These are for you, obviously," he holds out the extensive amount of flowers to you. Taking them in your hand, you examine the flower choice, "Jonquils and white roses, fitting.". "Oh really I hadn't noticed," he mutters, feigning innocence.

"Uh huh," you eye him up and down, surprised at his formal attire. He ditched the robe, instead, he dawned a white suit with lavender and gold accents akin to his usual robe colors. Though, he still wore his exterminator mask. The angel notices your gaze on him and wiggles his eyebrows, "Like what you see?". "Could be better," you state flatly. He scrunches his eyebrows, an offended look on his face, "Better? How?!". Reaching out, you lift the mask off him, "Much better, now I can actually see you.". He turns his head away bashfully, muttering, "yeah, okay, whatever," under his breath as his face heats up.

__

The two of you arrive at the destination, a beautiful garden-esque restaurant that's completely cleared out. "Woah, this is gorgeous," you state, in awe at the scenery. A cocky grin spreads across Adam's face, "Like it? Being the first man has its perks, I had the whole place cleared out just for us.".

"Its, wow," you walk in further, admiring the set up. The restaurant's walls are covered in vines and flowers, fairy lights hanging from beamed ceiling. A dim glow casts around place, a surprisingly warm atmosphere in the cold outside air. Adam grabs your waist gently and guides you to your table. Roses pave the walkway to your seating, waiters on standby holding wine. Adam pulls your chair out for you to sit, pushing your chair in for you once your sat.

"I have to say, I'm pleasantly surprised at this," you state. "Oh yeah?" he smirks, "told I could be romantic and shit.". You take a sip of your wine and chuckle, "Well, your doing a great job of it so far.". "Oh, yeah?" Adam leans in and whispers in a husky low tone, "how good? Good enough to give me a thank-you-fuck after?".

"Nope," you reply flatly. "God damn it!" he throws his hands up in the air in frustration. You laugh and check the time on your phone, "Look at that, you lasted an hour without bringing up sex! That's your best record.". He scoffs, a soft smile involuntarily spreading across his face, "Yeah whatever, fuckin' prude.". __

You two share a nice dinner, the food was phenomenal and the conversation was pretty good. Getting to know Adam was actually interesting, at least for the parts he would open up about. He pays for the meal and leads you outside, the cool air causing you to shiver. Adam kindly offers his jacket out to you. "Thanks," you grab the jacket and slide it over your shoulders, the oversized fabric offering extra warmth across your body.

You take his hand as you walk through the streets of heaven, the action taking him by surprise for a moment. He regains his composure and intertwines his fingers with yours tightly, pulling you to his side.

The walk back to your place is comfortably quiet, just the two of you enjoying the calm atmosphere. Once you arrive to your place, you stand by the door as you say your goodbyes, "Tonight was really fun, Adam.". You move closer to him, expecting a kiss from him before you part ways.

He avoids eye contact, not responding to you, an uncharacteristically shy demeanor suddenly creeping up. "Adam? Helloo?" you try to get his attention by waving your hands in front of him, yet, you get no response. Exhaling sharply, you grab his face and force him to make eye contact with you, "Are you gonna kiss me or what?!".

"I'm trying but now you've got me all weird and nervous!" he finally says, his face now beet red. "Me?! It's not like we haven't kissed before," you respond defensively. "Not like this! It didn't mean anything before," he trails off, his words getting softer. He sighs, running a hand down his face, "Nobody meant anything before, but you do. And now I'm getting all sappy and gross, can't even fucking kiss you without feeling all anxious and shit! See what you do to me?! I shouldn't have ever-". Reaching up on your tippy toes, you cut him off with a soft kiss. He shuts his eyes and leans into it, wrapping his arms around your waist as he deepens the kiss. His eyebrows knit together, focused on the tender moment before him.

You try to pull back from the kiss to get some air, however, Adam whines and pulls you back in. Chuckling against his lips, your hands run through his soft brown locks of hair. He trails his lips down to your neck where he nuzzles into you, holding you in a firm embrace. "Don't even think about telling people about this," his says, words muffled against your neck.

"'Bout what? You being a big sap?" you tease. "Shut the fuck up," he mutters. "I'm kidding!" you chuckle, lifting his head off your shoulder to see him, "I hope we can do this again sometime.". The angel smiles softly, pulling away from you and standing up straight, "I'll see you soon then. Night.".

"Night."

He walks away from your doorstep, occasionally looking back at you to make sure you got in okay, already planning your next date in his head the whole way home.

The End <3 __

i love this prompt!!! very me core. i know i talk my freaky lil shit on here but im all talk. im very touch averse unless your on my mentally approved list of people that can touch me, and yet my love language is physical touch or something idfk guys anyway im gonna stop rambling

anyWHOOO, Jonquils and white roses have cute lil flower meanings btw :]

Jonquils: rebirth, new beginnings, and hope

White Roses:  loyalty, purity, and innocence

all the things adam was trying to come off as lol

to requester: thanks for the prompt darling! :]

[jenniferjareauwife]

I Didn't Do This

pairing: rio vidal x fem reader

category: hurt/comfort

warnings: self-harm, mentions of suicide

word count: 602

summary: rio finds you bleeding in the bathroom

I gulped when I saw the small pool of blood on the bathroom floor. It was dribbling from the cuts I had made on my wrist just a few minutes ago. I gently placed Rio's dagger on the counter by the sink, giving myself a mental reminder to wash it off in a couple minutes.

"My love? Have you seen my dagger?" I froze up once I heard her voice and her footsteps just a few feet away from the bathroom door.

"Oh no- sorry." I gulped, knowing it was her prized possession. I knew she wouldn't care if I had it but if she knew what I had used it for...that's another story. I quickly hid it in the cabinet below the counter, knowing she would walk into the bathroom next.

The doorknob turned and the first thing she noticed was the blood on my floor. "Did I forgot to heal something?" She queried, a bit confused.

"Oh- uh-"

"I'd never hurt you on your wrist." She sounded a tiny bit accusatory, but that quickly turned to worry. "My love what did you do?"

"Nothing." I whispered quickly, watching as she grabbed my hand to bring my wrist to her tongue, licking the cuts and to heal them while holding eye contact.

"I didn't do this." She whispered, her eyes clouding with worry. "My love...did you do this to yourself?"

"I just...I yeah...yeah I did." I wiped away a single tear that fell from my eye and sat on the edge of the bathtub, avoiding eye contact. I really never wanted her to figure it out.

"I'm not mad at you sweetheart. I just want to know why." She knelt down in front of me, apparently she had found her dagger because it was back in its rightful place in her belt.

"Does it even matter?"

"Of course it matters. I have known everyone who has commit suicide-"

"I didn't try to commit suicide-"

"I'm well aware of the warning signs." Her voice was more firm now but it calmed me, she knew. She wanted to help.

"I'm sorry-"

"My love I'm not angry with you." She reminded me, laughing softly with a small smirk. I was the only one she was ever soft with, but even I had never seen her this soft. She ran her thumb over the now healed cuts, helping me stand up and leading me to our bed.

I sat against the headboard in silence as Rio gave me a glass of water before putting a flower in my hair. "I don't want you to be in pain." She whispered, her lips inches from mine. I snickered a little, knowing how our foreplay worked. Her eyes lit up as she saw me laugh. "You know what I mean." She pecked my lips.

"It was the first time." I admitted quietly. She gave a small nod, kissing my forehead and pulling me in for a hug.

"I want you to talk to me about this stuff." She murmured in my ear. "Instead of letting it get to this, you know?" My heart sank.

"I know."

"Hey, don't feel bad about it, ok?" She gently cupped my face in her hands. "I just want you to know that I'm here for you. I have been for the past 100 years and I'm not going anywhere now." She wiped away a small tear that trickled down my cheek.

"Thank you. That means a lot." I leaned my forehead against hers.

"Of course my love." Another forehead kiss. "I'm always here. I love you so much."

"I love you too."

[seitmai]

It is Halloween night, and the Hard Deck is all decked out – and yeah, pun intended – with the best decorations the local stores had to offer. And then a few more that young Amelia Benjamin ordered online with the credit card in her wallet that definitely wasn’t for emergencies only. 

Definitely an emergency to not have enough Halloween decorations 🤷🏻‍♀️

She did, however, have to draw the line upon catching Amelia on top of the bar, trying to stick glow-in-the-dark skeletons into the model planes. 

That would have been so good!!

(He tried to save a few bucks here and there by ordering off Amazon and not from the Etsy store that designed the rest of the suit. Never again. He should’ve known not to cheap out on perfection.)

I get it, authentic stuff like that is hella expensive

“I’m not Boba Fett. I’m the Mandalorian. He’s like… a whole different character, dude.” He gets a dismissive cigar wave in response. “It’s all Star Trek, innit, mate?” 

If looks could kill haha

“You pulled me away from the girls, man. I was this close.” He shifts his helmet from one hand to the other and pinches two gloved fingers, this far apart. “This close, man. They all wanted pictures with me.”  “You can get back to the mask kink brigade later.

I'm dead 😂😂😂

“‘Ello there, love, I’m Tommy Shelby. This good man over here is one of those… what’d ya call them? Stormtrooper lads?” “Reuben, I swear – ” 

Mickey is over his antics haha

[And some time later, after Federal Fire San Diego cleared the premise and declared it to be a false alarm, probably faulty wiring with all the string lights, Hangman and Coyote make their way back to the bathroom.]

Not the fire department having to come lmao

(And yeah, Phoenix, Jake is wearing briefs underneath the shirt. It’s not a free show after all.)

😂😂😂

“Well now, I’m certified MILF Angelina Jolie from the iconic 2005 classic Mr. and Mrs. Smith, only gets better with age. I’ll let you guess whether I mean her or the movie.” A dashing wink at the camera. “And Coyote here is…” Coyote is adjusting the white boxer shorts that keep riding up his muscular thighs – skies out, thighs out and all that – and wonders if Brad Pitt ever had to deal with having such incredible thigh strength on set. Probably not. He flashes an overly proud grin, and Jake wonders if perhaps, Jake might need to cut off his access to the flask tucked into his left galosh.

I can't 😂😂😂 every sentence of this made me crack up harder!

..slow... …nepotism pick...…fuck with a stupid-looking mustache… …can’t have the flask, go buy a beer, Coyote!

I have a feeling that Mrs. Smith wants to kiss Magnum PI but doesn't want to admit it 🤭

[Midnight arrives, and Yzma and Kronk from The Emperor’s New Groove enter the bathroom. Holding the miniature trophies that Penny awarded them for a well-deserved first place in the annual Hard Deck Halloween Costume Contest.]

Deserving winners in my opinion

Fixing the neckline of the purple dress (and after definitely flashing a nipple on stage out there), Bob wipes at his drooping eyeliner and puts in another splash of eye drops. Contacts make his eyes so dry.

And the gender swap makes it even better!!!👏🏻

A frown wrinkles her brow. “Well, I still vote Mrs. Smith because Bagman’s a douche, and I want him to have a violent hangover tomorrow. I want him to spend his whole day downing Gatorades and fruitlessly wishing for his suffering to end. How’s that?” 

Fair 🤷🏻‍♀️😅

Sweat pricks at Bob’s brow. He likes Phoenix. He really does. (But sometimes, Phoenix scares him a little.)

Also fair 😂

 [And now alone, in the backseat of the Bronco, Magnum PI absentmindedly wipes at the lipstick print on his cheek and lets out a loud snore. Humming a tune in his sleep that sounds suspiciously like Great Balls of Fire.]

I truly hope the lipstick stain is from Mrs. Smith 🤭

end note: then, amelia benjamin uploads this to her secret daggersafterdark tiktok account and goes viral. the end.

As it should be!! 👏🏻

I had a blast reading this, I truly loved it so much!! 🫶🏻

baby, it's halloween (and we can be anything)

synopsis: since TGM takes place around Halloween, the Daggers would definitely dress up and go to the Hard Deck Halloween party, right?

pairings: none but many a couples costume

warnings: explicit language, bad irish accents, drinking and mentions of alcohol, anachronistic tiktok trends, all fluff all the time, too many pop culture references, not edited

note: inspired by this ask i sent to @theharddeck. all of the excellent costumes were her idea because i couldn't stop thinking about the mr. and mrs. smith costume all day. for you, darling!

(top gun: maverick is a halloween movie, pass it on. and yeah, i did use a phoebe bridgers lyric for this incredibly unserious fic. title from halloween.)

It is Halloween night, and the Hard Deck is all decked out – and yeah, pun intended – with the best decorations the local stores had to offer. And then a few more that young Amelia Benjamin ordered online with the credit card in her wallet that definitely wasn’t for emergencies only. 

Purple lights adorn the wooden pillars, wrapped carefully around the faded stickers and other memorabilia, casting the whole bar in an eerie glow after the sun goes down. Two dozen or so balloons float against the ceiling, black and orange, and any available inch that isn’t blocked by a balloon is expertly covered in more fake cobwebs than Penny has ever seen in her life.

She did, however, have to draw the line upon catching Amelia on top of the bar, trying to stick glow-in-the-dark skeletons into the model planes. 

It looks great. And the whole Top Gun team shows up in full costume – including the ones that Penny knows Pete favors for the mission, even if Maverick would never say it himself.

This, for Amelia Benjamin, is simply an opportunity too good to pass up. 

[Penny Benjamin enters the single bathroom at the end of the Hard Deck’s back hall, the one that Amelia marked with a HAUNTED BATHROOM sign that made patrons think it was out of order. She sets the phone on the counter and clicks over to the camera, starting the video.]

“Okay, well, I don’t really know how this all works, but I’m Sarah Williams from the movie Labyrinth, and I think…” 

She adjusts the too big skirt of her bejeweled ballgown, damn the appeal of authentic poofs and ruffles, and tosses her hair over her shoulder, trying to remember what Amelia told her to do. 

“Ahhhh… What was it? Drunkest?” 

She has an answer, but unfortunately, Pete had a prior commitment to fly in that Halloween Airshow this weekend. Otherwise, Penny knows Maverick would be here, giving the young hotshots a run for their money.

“Who is here tonight?” A light bulb goes off in her head, probably purple to keep things in theme. “Well, from prior experience, I think Peaky Blinders will be the drunkest tonight. He still owes me $20 for knocking those planes off the ceiling back at Top Gun.” 

Gathering up her skirts, Penny gets to thinking, “He still owes me for the two steins last week too. Dammit…” and huffing, exits the bathroom in a whirl of skirts and jewels. 

[After a surprisingly intimidating shakedown from Penny Benjamin, Payback makes his way to the out-of-order bathroom. Not before grabbing his WSO by one of the many, many straps on his costume and pulling him away from the gaggle of fawning women in sexy alien costumes.]

“Hello,” Payback says in the empty bathroom, feeling stupid. He digs his cigar out of a vest pocket and re-lighting the end, takes a thick puff. An atrocious Irish accent comes out the other side. “Right, govunah, name’s Tommy Shelby from Peaky fooking Blinders, and I tink that – oi, are you taking the piss then, mate?

And Fanboy smacks him again just for that, knocking the newsboy hat right off his head with a flat palm. “What’s your problem?” 

“Can’t hear you, mate,” Payback says, smoke curling from the end of the cigar. He flashes him a good-natured grin around it. “Better pop that helmet off, right, Boba Fett?” 

“I’m not…” comes from under the helmet, all garbled. 

Damn battery must’ve died in the voice modulator. 

(He tried to save a few bucks here and there by ordering off Amazon and not from the Etsy store that designed the rest of the suit. Never again. He should’ve known not to cheap out on perfection.)

Damp curls spring from underneath the helmet as Fanboy pulls it from his head, wiping them across his forehead. They stay there, plastered from the heat and condensation inside the helmet. 

“I’m not Boba Fett. I’m the Mandalorian. He’s like… a whole different character, dude.”

He gets a dismissive cigar wave in response. 

“It’s all Star Trek, innit, mate?” 

“Star Wars. And your Tom Shelby accent needs some work. You’re starting to sound a little Australian now.” 

“Can’t sound proper Irish without my cap, and you, sir,” Payback jams a finger into his WSO’s shoulder, then pulls it back when it actually hurts. God, how much did Mickey pay for that suit? “Nicked it from my fooking head, mate. Explain yourself then.” 

“You pulled me away from the girls, man. I was this close.” He shifts his helmet from one hand to the other and pinches two gloved fingers, this far apart. “This close, man. They all wanted pictures with me.” 

“You can get back to the mask kink brigade later. Penny sent me back here, upon threat of death, mind you. Her daughter wants us all to do some TikTok trend for the Halloween party.”

“Fine,” Fanboy huffs, still pouting over the Star Trek comment. He knows Payback knows the difference. “But I’m putting the helmet back on. Need to get my money’s worth, now that I’ve given up my retirement fund to buy this costume.” 

“Whatever you say, Darth Vader.”

“I am not – ” 

Payback knocks the helmet the rest of the way down with a closed fist, ignoring the disoriented Mickey that flails around in the background of the video. He puts on his best movie star smile and blows a perfectly round smoke ring at the camera.

“‘Ello there, love, I’m Tommy Shelby. This good man over here is one of those… what’d ya call them? Stormtrooper lads?” 

“Reuben, I swear – ” 

“And I think,” Payback continues, unperturbed as his WSO makes another grab for the newsboy. “Now I’d bet my life that Mr. and Mrs. Smith are the most binned tonight. I’ve got it on good authority that Mr. Smith’s got a flask in those short shorts of his.” 

Smoke curls up from the cigar, and Mickey spots a blinking dot on the ceiling.

“Hey, Payback, d’you want to maybe put that out? It’s getting a little smokey in here.” 

“Chill out, Mando. It’ll be – ” 

[And some time later, after Federal Fire San Diego cleared the premise and declared it to be a false alarm, probably faulty wiring with all the string lights, Hangman and Coyote make their way back to the bathroom.]

Hangman sniffs the air. “Do you smell that? It stinks back here.” 

“It’s a bathroom, dude.” 

“Not…” Hangman lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Never mind.” 

He finds the phone, still propped up on the counter and brimming with battery life somehow. Adjusts the crisp white button-down in the mirror, pulling it tight over his shoulders. 

It is several sizes too large, hanging loose over his firm torso and leaving a scandalous amount of thigh and calf muscle exposed, between the hem and the top of the ruby-red rain boots. 

(And yeah, Phoenix, Jake is wearing briefs underneath the shirt. It’s not a free show after all.)

“Well now, I’m certified MILF Angelina Jolie from the iconic 2005 classic Mr. and Mrs. Smith, only gets better with age. I’ll let you guess whether I mean her or the movie.” A dashing wink at the camera. “And Coyote here is…” 

Coyote is adjusting the white boxer shorts that keep riding up his muscular thighs – skies out, thighs out and all that – and wonders if Brad Pitt ever had to deal with having such incredible thigh strength on set. Probably not. 

His shirt is white and skin-tight, almost see-through, over his chest. “Certified bad-ass Brad Pitt from Mr. and MILF… wait…” He loses his balance a little bit from thinking too hard. “That’s not right. Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Nailed it!” 

He flashes an overly proud grin, and Jake wonders if perhaps, Jake might need to cut off his access to the flask tucked into his left galosh. He wanted to have a fake gun stashed in the other one, but Penny spotted him waving it around near the dartboard and confiscated it. 

“Right…” Jake deadpans, then turns back to the camera. He loosens the top button of his shirt, popping it open to reveal more of his chest. Metal winks from the gap, the chain of his dog tags. “And I think…. You know what? I think Magnum PI will be the drunkest tonight.”

Coyote looks skyward, shaking his head.

Drunken agitation leaks into his voice. “You know why I think that?” 

“Not again,” Coyote groans.

He reaches for the flask, and Mrs. Smith swats his hand away, pointing a stern finger at him, then at the phone.

“Because Magnum PI is slow. He’s not cut out for a real Halloween party. He’s slow in the air, slow on the ground, and slow to handle his alcohol. He’ll be passed out by midnight. I’d put money down.”  

And as the Haunted Bathroom door swings shut behind them, the iPhone mic barely picks up on the low mutterings. 

..slow...

…nepotism pick...

…fuck with a stupid-looking mustache…

…can’t have the flask, go buy a beer, Coyote!

[Midnight arrives, and Yzma and Kronk from The Emperor’s New Groove enter the bathroom. Holding the miniature trophies that Penny awarded them for a well-deserved first place in the annual Hard Deck Halloween Costume Contest.]

Fixing the neckline of the purple dress (and after definitely flashing a nipple on stage out there), Bob wipes at his drooping eyeliner and puts in another splash of eye drops. Contacts make his eyes so dry.

Phoenix holds the trophy over her head like a gladiator, grinning from ear to ear, flexing her muscles in the cut-off sleeves. “Hello friends and foes, winners and losers, I’m Kronk from Emperor’s New Groove…” 

It takes Bob a few seconds to notice Phoenix staring him down.

He straightens up, clearing his throat. “And I’m Yzma, also from Emperor’s New Groove.” 

“We think,” Phoenix leans closer, like Amelia’s iPhone is an old friend, and holds onto the edge of the counter with dignity. She probably could’ve left that last victory shot on the table. “that Mrs. Smith will be the drunkest tonight. He’s got a flask in his boot.” 

“It’s Coyote’s. I saw him with it earlier.” 

A frown wrinkles her brow. “Well, I still vote Mrs. Smith because Bagman’s a douche, and I want him to have a violent hangover tomorrow. I want him to spend his whole day downing Gatorades and fruitlessly wishing for his suffering to end. How’s that?” 

Sweat pricks at Bob’s brow. He likes Phoenix. He really does.

(But sometimes, Phoenix scares him a little.) 

His swallow is audible. “Yeah. Sure, yeah.” 

And Bob keeps to himself that Rooster has been MIA for over an hour now, after cashing in on three bell rings in a row and following a girl in a Sue Storm costume out to the parking lot. 

[And now alone, in the backseat of the Bronco, Magnum PI absentmindedly wipes at the lipstick print on his cheek and lets out a loud snore. Humming a tune in his sleep that sounds suspiciously like Great Balls of Fire.]

end note: then, amelia benjamin uploads this to her secret daggersafterdark tiktok account and goes viral. the end.

(making my fic debut with this one, so i would love to hear all your thoughts, and i gave danny's look both ways hair to fanboy just this once because i can.)

[cyb-by-lang]

Cascade

Someone a while ago asked me about what Kei's school life in Shell Game would've been like if she was a kid in 1-A as opposed to 1-C, so here's some noodlin'.

(Kei replaces Mineta's slot because I don't feel like dealing with him.)

The facet of being a UA student that bothered Kei the most (immediately) was the scrutiny. The celebrity. The total inability to fold herself and her flat expression and sleep deprivation back into the comforting anonymity of a world without widespread cell phone usage. Every other rando in Japan—arguably the world—knew the school’s reputation and its uniform. The more invested enthusiasts knew the names and faces of all the hero kids in each year and ranked them based on their apparent promise. Kei’s entire being retreated from the spotlight as though possessed by a cockroach. 

The runner-up of annoyances was being trapped in high school again. She’d done her time one life ago and resented that the experience just pigeonholed her into bilingual missions now. But explaining that to Sensei wasn’t on the table, so away she went. 

In the end, though, there was a small silver lining, as thin as cobweb. Unlike general education students, the two heroics-focused classes had occasional permission to use their Quirks to achieve their goals. Such as winning a sports contest between students, but still. It was something. 

“Gekkō. Your turn.” 

Kei jolted back to life like the engine of a forty-year-old car, covering her mouth with one hand as she yawned. Sure, Bakugō’s big boom ball throw had startled her awake, but she’d slept like total garbage last night. The stress from anticipating a new development in any mission made staying asleep an impossibility. 

So she’d kind of sleepwalked through the first few rounds of fitness tests. A lot of the other students’ Quirks didn’t help with their performances—exemplified by the invisible girl and the boy with electric powers—and so Kei didn’t meaningfully stand out. It helped that the students with physical Quirks usually really excelled at very specific tasks, but were dead average elsewhere. Kei barely needed to work to keep in the middle of the pack, only using her water manipulation for effect. 

And now everyone was looking at her. 

Dammit, Kei thought. She rolled to her feet with a little huff and made her way off the sideline with the air of a two-toed sloth dragged out for a quirky sports movie. 

“Do you need a reminder of what the rules are?” Aizawa asked, his voice as dead as Kei sort of wished she could be in this exact moment. 

“No, Aizawa-sensei,” Kei replied as she passed him. An instant later, she caught the tracker-equipped softball without looking, thought it had been thrown at her head. Not like it would have done any damage even if it made contact.

“Then quit wasting our time.” 

Kei didn’t even remember her placement during the UA entrance exam, but this still felt targeted. The numbers didn’t matter. She’d already known she was in, so the only consideration left was keeping the extent of her powers under wraps.  

It wasn’t like Kei didn’t get why Aizawa “Eraserhead” Shōta hated her presence in the class. Her enrollment in UA was basically anathema to the entire purpose of the program. Sensei and the principal couldn’t just cut the guy entirely out of the loop without causing Kei logistical problems when it came to doing her job. At the very least, an uninformed teacher might ask questions when Kei inevitably ran out of the classroom to deal with some crisis. Just because Aizawa looked like he wouldn’t care if his students fell down an open manhole cover, but that was the trouble with judging by appearances alone. 

I could take over the moment it leaves your hands.

Be my guest. 

Kei tossed the ball in the air, clapped her hands together, and summoned a blob of water that expanded in sync with her hands as she pulled them apart. When the falling softball landed amid the watermelon-sized sphere, it warped briefly into an image of Isobu’s curled-up shell before stabilizing. That was a telltale sign even to people without worthwhile chakra detection abilities—as long as they knew. 

So, basically Aizawa. Kei didn’t need to look in his direction to feel his glare.

There we are. Isobu’s power reached forward to engulf the brand new source of ammunition. 

Then the blob, the captive softball, and some simulacrum of Kei’s dreams shot off into the void. Only the thinnest possible thread of water connected Isobu’s new toy to Kei’s index fingers. Kei and the a couple of her classmates watched its erratic balloon-like course until, inevitably, the thread snapped. 

Eventually, there was a beep from Aizawa’s phone. “Five hundred and fifteen meters.” 

Kei rubbed at her eyes, already done with the entire affair. At least this data might be useful for Kei and Isobu’s future adventures in mass hydrokinesis. Perhaps Isobu’s range would be even larger if they added more of his chakra. Running those experiments would have to wait for another day, though. 

“Next,” said Aizawa. Going by the way a couple of students jumped, the next contestant was already on deck and suffering from stage fright. 

Kei wandered out of the chalk with barely any uptick in energy levels. She even yawned again. If the teacher wanted her out of the way faster, he could damn well throw her out.

But because this mission clearly wanted to establish the kind of pattern embodied by a combat deployment—boredom followed by intense spikes of activity, and then more boredom—Kei didn’t get a chance to nap. She found herself blinking away the drowsiness to the sound of Aizawa verbally ripping a kid to shreds. 

And it wasn’t Kei’s fault. Or even related to her. 

Novel.

While Kei had sat down and read brief profiles on all of her classmates on the Saturday before the term started, their names occasionally slipped her mind despite how painfully on-the-nose they could be. She’d get that data into her head later; for now, all Kei needed was a list of powers. 

Part of the reason Midoriya (today’s sacrifice) stuck out to her was how his name didn’t contain even a hint of his Quirk—just like hers didn’t. Because she didn’t have one. Going off the logic displayed by his classmates’ parents and their naming choices, Midoriya’s personal name should have had something to do with turning his own skeleton into dust. 

With his capture weapon and hair floating like the entire scene was underwater, Aizawa laid out everything wrong with the nervous kid’s approach to the ball toss. Given that the test in question was literally throwing a softball and this kid tended to hover around the middle of the pack, maybe he’d been planning to use his hyper-destructive Quirk to finally get an edge. Like any kid sitting through someone else getting shouted at by a teacher, Kei pretended not to hear the specifics.

It was still sort of difficult not to, even with her classmates trying to build a small reservoir of side chatter to insulate themselves.

There was a lot in Aizawa’s lecture about “basic competence” and paraphrased warnings about not breaking all the bones in his body. Because, well, someone who did that would probably need to be carried off a battlefield on a stretcher if not in a body bag.

“With your power,” Aizawa was saying, his voice as flat and cold as an executioner’s blade, “you can’t become a hero.” 

Midoriya’s expression said he knew damn well what was at stake now. If he couldn’t figure out how to throw a ball without laying himself out flat, he was screwed. 

The real question was if breaking bones was the prerequisite to accessing that monstrous strength, or just a shitty side effect of having no control? If it was the former, the first time the kid fell off a jungle gym or crashed his bike should have made the news along with a crater. 

While the other students consulted among themselves whether they’d ever heard of Eraserhead before—which disengaged Kei even further from the conversation in favor of naptime—Aizawa withdrew from the chalk circle to let Midoriya figure his shit out. He’d either fly or fucking die. 

Aizawa probably didn’t care which. At least, not out loud. Better that this catastrophic failure happened in school and not in the field with lives on the line.

Kei shaded her eyes and awaited some conclusive result.

Midoriya didn’t disappoint; one colossal BANG later, the softball was rocketing off into the distance with a smoke trail marking its trajectory. But unlike the utter travesty that characterized his entrance exam footage, the kid that turned to face the group did so with all limbs intact. He’d destroyed only one finger in the process of setting off his Quirk this time.

Kei frowned while the other students cheered. Aizawa, too, looked excited to find improvement so close on the heels of his first sharp criticism. 

Sure, Blasty McSplode had a problem with Midoriya’s (qualified and still bone-breaky) success and then needed to be wrestled into submission for being a loud jackass literally a foot in front of the teacher, but that wasn’t Kei’s problem. Or, at least, his attitude wasn’t an interesting problem for Kei to puzzle over. 

Midoriya’s, though… There’s something wrong here.

Hm?

I don’t think his Quirk requires him to destroy himself to use it. If it did, he should’ve figured out how to minimize the damage way before he got here. Kei pressed her curled fingers against her lower lip as she thought. Damn, I usually just shrug off questions like this… 

But this secret may affect your risk assessment process when dealing with all of these humans. 

Maybe. But hell if it’s not a personal question. “Hey, what’s the deal with your Quirk totally pulverizing your vulnerable teenage skeleton every time I’ve seen it used?” That’ll go over well. 

“Gekkō,” said Aizawa, interrupting Kei’s thoughts with more school nonsense. He’d apparently picked her out as a zoned-out straggler. “Finish your tests. Side-hops and grip test, go.”

Kei sighed internally and trotted off to a different part of the field.

[aztarion]

Give me some fun facts about Soledad rn or I’ll do something…dunno what yet…

im sorry i took so long getting to this T_T thank you for asking!!! this went off-road many times with me overthinking it i just couldn't save it but hopefully it's still readable, i tried to do a mix of character and meta while not repeating anything from prev asks and then it kind of morphed into a weird bio lmao

her full name is Solona ‘Sol’ ‘Soledad’ Castillo; born 1/11/72 and raised in soledad, california, until her parents moved to sierra vista, arizona. died embraced 1/11/98, so forever 26 (and chronologically a fresh 48 during the events of Night Road).

by that time in 2020 her mom and dad have both passed and her older brother is 52; he runs their dad’s mechanical repair workshop there. she absolutely still does the sad little drive-by late at night every couple of months if she's in the area on a job (surgical mask on and hood up of course). i hc that julian, while keeping an occasional spying eye on her during the 10 yr absence, also looks out for her brother and sends business his way unbeknown to her lol

she ended up 3/3 fully blood bonded to julian in the beginning while they worked for the cam, and julian was 2/3 bonded to her. his “wasn't it romantic?” comment -- yeah literally too romantic, get back to work and feed the big underground nosferatu both of you 😤 i like that headcanon personally as another reason why he would cut contact so suddenly with sol when they were in a relationship — to break the bond on both sides; he could obsess strictly over 2100X and her desires would be completely her own again

another headcanon i'm sorry... after the diablerie of aila and the intense guilt that came with the act, plus julian (her sire) abandoning her and essentially straining and forcing their bond to fade, she gains the bulimia derangement. i paired that with the siren predator type lmfao. so very um dramatic all around when shes having a bad night. she restricts to bagged blood for like ten years working as a courier and just resigns herself to being perpetually dour and unsatisfied. i like to write her easygoing and much more lively when she's with julian during their work for the local camarilla, like the reality of her new condition hasn’t really sank in because omg julian's sooo fun and woah this world is crazy but at least julian's here he's gonna change everything or something (she believed in his vision and ideals even if she didn't fully grasp the scope at that time -- like she was on board at least. bless her she had 2 intelligence). she then becomes very muted pre-night road while the bond fades and the uglier, lonelier facets of being a vampire surface; having to pull together an independent undead existence for herself, trying to control her beast while feeding exclusively on bagged blood as job payment, then a little more tearing at the seams upon arriving in tucson during night road (resentment, guilt, anger, desire, longing, hunger for something that won't have a plastic aftertaste, all rushing back and blurring together at once; not so good a grasp on those when she’s been keeping herself numb and isolated and constantly on the move for a decade). behind everything she is desperate for connection

she has a good control on her beast thanks to that (monastic? lmao) decade (and high willpower/composure/resolve), until returning to tucson and stirring aila’s presence; the strange link to lettow, julian showing up, old memories and feelings that aren't even always her own now gathering on this very carefully crafted veneer like plaque. also suddenly having a ghoul and her own assets to worry about kind of freaks her out due to her own existential uncertainty and not really trusting herself. not even really knowing who she is. and she really likes elena right off the bat; she usually puts herself in more danger as to not risk her ghoul in the exact situations one would find themselves needing a damn ghoul in — she is literally the worst kindred ever in terms of priorities and self-preservation

speaking of her beast, it's very much that of a scorpion or snake… yes blunt-object-to-the-back-of-the-head-symbolism with some of her tattoos 😭 she stays lowkey, tries not to put herself under circumstances that would provoke or overly strain it, can keep it in check relatively well due to avid practice being a loner control freak, but when it snaps it's like an inland taipan. actually one of my fav moments playing with her in night road: so she chooses to continue feeding on blood bags in tucson, but when she finally had the opportunity to indulge with her predator type and a live target in dallas, she fucking got a critical success and killed them T_T this was after impulsively kissing julian back at the apartment d'espine allows you to stay at while in the area too. real in-character off-the-rails moment rip

i mentioned before but under the composed exterior she tries to present, she intensely seeks connection to something or someone. unfortunately the way she sees it: lettow is drawn to her because of the remnants of aila lingering within her -- also she literally ate his girlfriend, she's still not ok with that even if he forgives her because of course i gave my vampire oc morals and a guilty conscience (meanwhile cobie is eating people whole like twice a day); julian has no issue using her for whatever despite his affections, and elena is literally blood bonded to her, which sol is constantly thinking about elena's feelings and best interests — its a little bit of a sore spot for past reasons...

she gets on well with dove and begrudgingly really likes carlos (they absolutely cuss eachother out in very aggressive spanish one minute but he will pass her the roach the next) and she simped so bad for invidia caul — i think sol’s type is just a combo of super intelligence + willingness to engage in unethical experimentation lmfao. she's like omg noooo i don't understand wtf you're saying and that's sexy to me also your actions make me feel bad and are very ‘end-justifies-the-kind-of-morally-bankrupt-means’ but i cannot deny if they work out the ‘end’ would be really beneficial to kine and kindred... woe… hashtag conflicted and a little turned on. but she's very drawn to people who are idealistic or driven in an inherent ‘i want to help then i'll have purpose’ way. also the thrill. omg im just psychoanalysing her at this point sorry. this bitch would easily be indoctrinated into a cult is what it all boils down to + the extreme loyalty means she'd probably end up the cult leader's right-hand arm man his everything his confidant his best friend his silly rabbit 🤦‍♀️

also a follower in the streets but more of a leader in the sheets who said that

ok random stuff... she has those brown eyes that when she was human would glare almost red-orange when caught in straight sunlight; super deep chestnut, it only comes through under certain fluorescents these nights

very thick long hair; naturally has a kink/wave to it, quickly prone to returning to that state even when straightened, esp in the southwest's heat. usually loose when in tucson or dressing up, or braided ponytail on the road/job which i am so afraid to draw

nails are sharp like mini claws unless she’s specifically clipped them after rousing. they extend obscenely when she pops protean. i need to draw her fangs but they’re feline/kittenish: weirdly long and thin like staple punches, and again when she pops protean they extend like a snakes

her character color scheme runs warm-dark: black, brown, ochre, sienna, umber, burnt orange, deep shades of red, and maybe some random olive. style-wise it’s a mixed bag of practical minimalist and sleek; street and active wear, the occasional gold-ruby-emerald or leopard print dolce & gabbana-esque gaudy accent. very feminine on top; skin tight, low cut, corseted or cropped, paired with something oversized; men’s beaten-soft leather jackets, vintage driving jackets, or blazers. pants go either way: form fitting or baggy and belted depending on whatever silhouette she wants to cut. think of like the swaggiest 70s cuban drug lord/80s gangster restyled on 90s supermodel Naomi Campbell or something. with formal-wear i really like her in off-shoulder stuff. i try to draw her tattoos more in art bc it makes her more fun to look at but as a courier she wears driving gloves and long pants/boots to cover them up, and baseball caps or large sunglasses (yes at night. loser) to keep herself mostly unidentifiable

THANK YOU FOR ASKING ABOUT MY BLORBO!!!! :'3

prev info/asks jic: 0 , 1 , 2

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Hey, just today I've decided to stop seeing my parents and siblings for an indeterminate amount of time, and to possibly even break off all contact if it has to come to that. They refuse to acknowledge me as the person i really am and I can't keep sacrificing my mental health and me up for that. Will you please pray for me? And if it's not too much to ask, do you perhaps have a bible passage to strengthen me during this time? I still want to stay close to God, because I know the way God created me was correct and good. Thank you

~Micha (they/them)

Hi Micha,

What a difficult, courageous thing you've done. I will absolutely hold you in my prayers; I pray you will find relief in having finally made the hard decision, and continue to live into flourishing.

The Bible story that comes to my mind is a strange one, only told by Mark (3:20-35):

Very early in Jesus's ministry, as he gathers followers and gains attention, his family is apparently very concerned.

Perhaps they know this path puts him in danger; or maybe they just worry about his "lifestyle" reflecting badly on them. Either way, they know they have to "take control of him;" after all, he's clearly "out of his mind" (v. 21).

So his mother and siblings hurry to a house where Jesus is teaching, but it's packed so full they can't get inside. So they send a messenger in and also call for him from outside (vv. 31-32). I can just imagine their calls: "Please honey, this isn't like you! Who influenced you to go this way?" "You're the man of the house, you can't just abandon us to hang out with queer friends and say edgy things!" "What will the neighbors say?"

But when Jesus is told his family is out there calling to him, he answers, “Who is my mother? Who are my siblings?” Looking around at those seated around him in a circle, he said, “Look, here are my mother and my brothers. Whoever does God’s will is my brother, sister, and mother.”

We know Jesus's love for his mother. I am sure he loved his whole family with the infinite depth of God. Yet he risks losing them, says hard words he know will probably hurt, because if they make him choose between them and living out God's will, he has to choose God's will.

We don't know whether he ever reconciled with his siblings; they don't appear anywhere else in the Gospels. Maybe this was their last encounter, not even face-to-face. Maybe his brothers could not abide his abnormal lifestyle and chose to cut him out of their lives.

But we do know Jesus reconciles with Mary, the mother who proclaimed divine revolution as a newly pregnant teen (Luke 1:46-55) — yet who seems to waver now, either out of fear for her son or failing to understand that what he's doing now is the revolution.

But I like to imagine when Mary hears what Jesus says about family, the implication that she is only mother to him if she continues to help him in living God's will, she immediately corrects course. She will keep supporting him, even when she doesn't fully understand.

Sure enough, Mary supports him all the way to the cross, all the way to the grave. They are present for each other, comforting each other through the worst moment of both their lives.

[Jesus even fuses his biological family and his found family together from the cross. Now that he will no longer be the "man" in Mary's life who offers her legal and social protection; and now that he won't be there to love on his Beloved, he offers John to Mary, Mary to John. "Woman, here is your son. John, here is your mother!" (John 19:25-27)

Is that queer or what?? As his final act on this side of the tomb, Jesus essentially makes his mother and lover mother-in-law and son-in-law! ...I can't not think of the AIDS crisis, where dying partners would pass their beloved's care over to surviving loved ones.]

___

Jesus always prioritized chosen family over biological family. A biological relative can be part of your chosen family, but belonging to that family is no more automatic for them than for anyone else.

Jesus shows us that when family fails to support us in doing God's will — in this case, taking up the invitation to co-create yourself with God, to commit your own small rebellion against the status quo, to prophecy resurrection as embracing your queerness brings you to new life — they cease to be family in the way that matters most.

That rupture can be mended at any point, if and when those who did harm seek to make amends — and receive consent to do so. Whether or not reconciliation ever takes place, we seek out others who will celebrate us and support us in our efforts to glorify God with our lives.

___

God of love, Hold Micha close in this time of loss and and changed relationships. Comfort them in the knowledge that this rupture is no fault of theirs, but caused by parents and siblings refusing to embrace all they are, and failing imagine a fuller Kin(g)dom, a vaster love, a more colorful Image of God.

Spirit of courage and wisdom, guide Micah towards those who will delight in all that they are. Help them build a family founded on love, equity, and mutual support. Wherever their journey takes them, make your unconditional love, your unwavering presence known to them.

Amen.

[bonefall]

Tbh I never read that far in DOTC but I heard so much about star flower from fandom that now hearing about it directly from you I feel so cheated. I was promised a femme fatale.. tho in hindsight considering how much these writers hate women I probably shouldn't have gotten my hopes up

I WISH we got a femme fatale. It would have been incredibly cathartic for her to make herself alluring to Clear Sky, turning his worst traits against him and getting both power and revenge. For Thunder to bond to her over it, reaching the conclusion in the end that they both had terrible parents that they need to reject.

but, knowing the Erins, they would have just had Clear Sky kill her violently and gratuitously for ever tricking him. Like how he gouged Willow Tail's eyes out. So... I guess we were doomed either way.

Anyway im cooking

[natandacat]

The notes are so funny bc here are the 'downsides of being an only child' that are literally not unique to being an only child and more of a parenting/situational thing really:

- "It's lonely!/Siblings are built-in friends!" One of my brothers played with me out of a sense of necessity because we were not allowed to be with other kids and he deeply resented me for that, which made for a bad relationship and me being extremely alone all the time anyway. I'd rather have skipped the hatred (on his part) and heart break (on mine) and gone directly to playing alone. I have literally never had an intimate conversation with any of my 3 brothers (except literally One time with one of them) but I've had countless of horrid fights (with me or witnessed). Hell is other people, etc.

- "All the attention is suffocating!" I was monitored 24/7 and pretty much never left alone, up to a point where my bathroom time was also monitored. My brother actively and voluntarily participated in the monitoring at some points.

- "You get unconditional support as an adult!" I've been in a lot of trouble since I was 17 and they've never helped, not materially or emotionally.

-"You have more people to build happy memories with!" My brother got married 3 days before I was back in the country (he set the date way after I had bought my plane tickets and also he actively chose to hide it from me) and still blames me for being upset because "it was a ceremony for closed loved ones only anyway" (I guess I wasn't counted!). That's just the most egregious examples in a long, long list.

I get grass is greener ect but what bothers me is that it reinforces the idea that sibling relationships are *always* a net positive, in a very "nuclear family is sacred" way

Like I'm not venting for the sake of it, I've been no contact for 4 years and it's great, I'm just frustrated that it's so goddamn hard to get people to acknowledge sibling abuse, or even get them to *not* perform shocked incredulity at the idea. Especially on tumblr, THE website where people talk about parental abuse all the time and understand that sometimes you really cannot salvage the relationship and it truly is detrimental

All I'm saying is stop assuming that things would be better with a sibling around. You don't know that! Believe me, things could be so much worse with a sibling around.

The good news is you get to choose your friends and siblings as an adult! :) Life can be sweet not matter who your nuclear family is! You're not a failure for not experiencing the hegemonic ideal of siblinghood! It's okay!

[youngpettyqueen]

theres a scenario in my head where Julian gets abducted (again) but this time Martok, Jadzia, and Worf team up and go get him because I think that would be very fun

[goldenboywrites]

“I can’t imagine they stayed in touch with her after…everything,” Apollo explained, crossing his arms over his chest after Cassio let his hand go. It was an assumption at best. Everything during that period was intense and generally destructive to the two families. Apollo hasn’t been in contact with his parents since. He imagined it was the same for her. “Her parents were just as strict about a pureblood marriage as mine were. Theodore hasn’t mentioned a dad other than referring to both Isaac and myself as his fathers, so I can’t imagine she’s married. If she and I didn't get married, having a child out of wedlock wouldn’t cause a lasting rift between her and her parents.” 

Apollo opened his mouth to answer Cassio, but Isaac beat him. He looked between the two most influential people in his life and felt the thick tension in the air. Of course, he knew the two were cordial with each other because they had to be, and he knew the tension between them mostly came from Isaac, as Cassio really couldn’t be bothered. It was something Apollo had always avoided discussing with Isaac, hoping it would just go away one day. Apollo would have had that conversation if he had known all of this would happen. He wished he had because Isaac was going to be fucking furious in a moment. 

Because Apollo had to talk to Cassio, it couldn’t wait, and he knew without a doubt that going off into another room with the blonde would send his boyfriend over the edge. So he did something slightly just as wrong. 

“Ya ne znayu, kto yeshche znayet.” Apollo did not look at Isaac as he spoke but felt his chin leave his shoulder. He did not look back at his boyfriend; there was too much of a crowd to see his face. Instead, he watched as Cassio’s gaze snapped at him. “Mozhet byt', oni poslali yego ko mne.” Every inch of Apollo felt guilty for using Russian to communicate with Cassio, to keep Isaac out of the conversation, but it was imperative. He couldn’t just talk about their actual employer out of in the open. Learning Russian was something stupid for them as teenagers. A way for them to speak in private while in a crowded room. They hadn’t used it in years. Until that desperate moment, Apollo had forgotten they had done it. “Ya khochu poiskat' yego vospomin-”

“Some would consider it rude to speak in another language when others who don’t speak it are present,” Oliver cut Apollo off, coming to stand next to Isaac. He looked between the two of them, hands on his hips. He nudged Isaac with his elbow. “Wouldn’t you agree, Isaac?” 

Apollo then turned to face Isaac and yearned to reach out, wanting physical contact to ensure he was okay. Isaac wouldn’t cause a scene in front of them. No, he wouldn’t display a weakness like that in front of Cassio. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” Apollo said softly, reaching to wrap his arm around Isaac’s waist, his attempt at testing the waters. “It’s just a thing we did growing up. I don’t speak it often, and I haven’t in years, actually, but when I’m overwhelmed, it helps me center myself sometimes, you know, thinking about the words and dictation. Quiets the brain.” Always the smooth talker, always the liar. “If you and Cassio sit with him for a bit, maybe you can see something we didn’t, but I wouldn’t waste any time. He ate his weight in pancakes, and I’m sure he’ll pass out from all the carbs soon.”

It wasn't until Apollo had apologized to Oliver and Cassio for his tone that he'd realized his jaw had been set in a rigid hold. So much so that when he'd finally opened and took a breath both sides popped. His fingers squeezed Apollo's and he slid his hand free. A faint sheen of sweat had collected on his palm and so he rubbed it against his pants. He had to get himself together. Seeing that the little boy also recognized the pair of them had irked him more than the fact that had just showed up unannounced. He sighed and found himself regaining himself, calming down as quickly as he could manage. If he were going to be able to keep touching Apollo like that he couldn't influence his mood like that. Even if it had been unintentional. He wasn't ashamed but he felt bad that he couldn't just let somethings go yet.

"I don't think anyone has heard or seen from her since then either." Cassio chimed in. While he wasn't greatly acquainted with that particular wizarding family, most were still running their circles and gossiping all the while after. As much as he hated to admit, sometimes it was the only way to really find out anything about anyone. "Mungos? And you were the only one to contact? What about her parents?" He'd almost regretted suggesting it as soon as it had come out but still. Cass stepped in and nudged himself under Oliver's arm for his warmth and comfort. "I mean I'm sure they don't have the highest opinions of you or ... Isaac but surely they'd know their daughter was missing, right?" He looked to Oliver and sighed, knowing that may not be true. With so many in his boyfriend's family he wondered how his poor parents kept up with all of them.

"Orion was probably right. Maybe with the four of us we could get more out of him?" He'd suggested, reaching his hand to pat Oliver's chest. "Uncle Ollie seems like he's got a handle on it already." The laugh that followed couldn't be helped. Because while this was absolutely terrifying, that part was still something that would stick with him for the rest of his life. "I mean it can't hurt. Does anyone else know about him?" He asked only Apollo that question, his gaze lingering a little longer than need be but he needed to know exactly what they needed to prepare for and only Apollo could tell him exactly who this could be.

"Jus' the hospital staff." Isaac butted in, snapping the blond out of his staring contest with Apollo. Breathe. He straightened and forced a smile to his lips. "You migh' be righ'. Oliver migh' be the one ta ge' somethin' ou' o' him." He nudged Apollo's shoulder, knowing he was going a mile a minute in his brain and no chance of slowing. "Maybe we can ta'e a brea'. Try an' ea' somethin' while Oliver an' Cassio talk ta him." He offered, knowing Apollo would resist but he needed so desperately to get him to focus on something else even if just for a moment. "He's no' goin' anywhere an' I thin' he's jus' scared." His lips pressed together and he breathed out through his nose. "I would be if the lo' o' us were actin' li'e I was a piece of gilly wee'." His shoulders shrugged and he bent in the rest his chin on Apollo's shoulder. "Wha' else ca' we do?"

[anaalnathrakhs]

i <3 feeling like i'm literally always making the wrong choice

[iscreamkitty]

Interaction between Mikey and April in an au I have where she survives the mutagen bomb :D

[mirrorofliterature]

I cannot believe that some people on this website are so heartless to be complicit in genocide

[mothbeasts]

happy fabricator friday. time for me to post fabbylaris content okay?? obligatory these are all my personal headcanons and some of it has little to no basis in actual canon, it's mostly just me expanding on things I think make sense. with that out of the way.

I think, in theory, that Solaris is one of the very few people who could convince the Fabricator to leave Zoraxis. If not the only one. I doubt the Fabricator has many outside support systems, and while she could turn to the Agency for help... I doubt it'd go well for her.

So that leaves Solaris. Someone she worked closely with for years. Half a decade, at the very least. It would be incredibly difficult for her to get away with the amount of loyalty to Zor she has, and the manipulation she has to have experienced, and the fear for her life... But Solaris leaving might have planted the seeds of doubt in her mind. There's nobody she trusts more, despite the rocky start their relationship had.

I like to think that Solaris was the first person in over a decade, besides Zor, to actually... Interact with the Fabricator in a generally positive way. Solaris never belittled her, or talked down at her, or made her feel like she wasn't worthy of her rank... Because despite her prominence in Zoraxis, I don't think the Fabricator truly has a seat at the table. And this isn't really new to her, she's far too accustomed to being looked down on, but... It stings. With Solaris, though, she's finally someone's equal. There's mutual respect. It's nice, being appreciated...

So of course if she wanted to leave she would seek out the one person who might not turn her away. What else would she have?

[inkblot-inc]

Wanda going to visit The Makers Damned and Logan calls her over when he sees her walk in. Wanda is confused when he pulls out some paperwork and goes “Skitch forgot to get you to sign these when they made you their emergency contact”. And that’s how Wanda finds out Skitch made her their emergency contact.

I just- 🥺

And Skitch is so casual about it when Wanda brings it up like, "Naturally yeah, who else would I put?" and that would just make Wanda softer the rest of the night.

Like, Wanda and Skitch have been going out for a while at this point and it's not the biggest deal among other things, but it just sorta cements how important they are to each other by now, y'know?

especially since Wanda had just finished updating her own paperwork to add Skitch as her emergency contact not too long ago.