#so I fast tracked it on account of the prompts

[clarkthetimed]

They screwed you. Screwed all of you. You were never even on the list.

2 days late with it but here’s my little thing for lem/mina/sidereal lottery day for citizen sleeper january!

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + thirty two

authors note: we're nearing the end, folks. buckle up!

cw/tw: fluff, angst, and smut

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

cast+ masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 12k

“Baby, look.”

Roman redirects his focus from the text reply he was formulating to Dwayne to glance over at his wife who’s angling her phone screen toward him. 

Naturally, he’s confused by what he’s looking at, seeing a lot of colors, several words in different fonts/sizes, and what looks like fruit.

“What is this?”

Solana smiles and leans against his arm, explaining, “this is what our girls look like right now.” Realizing how that sounds considering she’s showing him a picture of actual fruit, Solana explains, “well, this is how big they are right now. The size of two Limes.”

And, it’s only when she says that, Roman takes the time to really look at the screen. To see that it in fact reads, “At 12 weeks, your babies are about as big as two lines” accompanied by a graphic of two limes as well as other things, one of them prompting him to point and ask. “And that?”

Solana’s smile deepens. “That’s what they probably look like.” Rubbing her belly, she clarifies, “it might not be an exact match, but pretty close.” She looks over at Roman, ready to explain more when she sees it. Sees the amazement. The surprise. The emotion.

“Shit,” he finally breathes, eyes still on the phone. “They….they’re growing fast.”

Solana nods, kissing his shoulder. “According to my app, their pituitary gland is producing hormones, and their bone marrow is making white blood cells, which will help them fight off germs.” Solana’s explanation is accompanied by her showing him her phone with the information displayed. 

Roman scoffs, finally looking at her and asking, “how did you get this? Is it something the doctor gave you or—”

She shakes her head. “No. It’s just a pregnancy app. I’ve tried out a couple, but I really like this one.”

“How do I get it on my phone?” He asks, Solana partially taken back by his interest, though it makes sense when she thinks about it. Her husband is a man who likes to be in the know and have information readily available to him, and an app that allows him to track the growth of their unborn children seems like a great resource for just that.

“You can download it from the app store. It’s called What to Expect.”

Roman moves to grab his phone, tapping around, a scowl growing on his face. “Where’s that damn little box?” Solana leans into him, pressing her face into his arm to hide her amusement. “Why does it keep moving and shit?”

The struggle to withhold her laughter is real. “Baby, it’s not moving. They had another iOS update, so the layout changed again.” 

“Another one?” She can’t help it. A giggle escapes, as Roman’s scowl deepens. “How many fucking updates are they going to do? I already can’t find shit half the damn time. Now they’re just making it even more difficult. Fucking hate this damn phone.” 

Solana moves her hand to the back of his head, massaging the base of his neck, trying to calm him down while also having to push back the desire to fall out in laughter. Roman is easily the most intelligent person she’s ever come across, but his inability to work or understand technology will never not be hilarious.

She 1000% believes that if he wasn’t who he is, he would most definitely do well, and best, with a flip phone.

“Here, babe. Let me do it for you.” Roman has zero issues handing over his phone to his wife who in a matter of minutes has not only downloaded the app, but has set up the account as if it was her profile so he can follow along, just as she’s doing. “There you go. All done.”

“Thank you,” he mutters, and she leans up to kiss his temple. Solana allows him time to play around and explore the app, while she shifts to something different but equally important. 

And, it’s when she stumbles across one that she likes, she draws his attention, once again showing him her screen. 

Instantly, he’s confused, and he’s not afraid to express as such.

“What is that?”

Solana looks at him, initially thinking he’s joking, which is a strange, impossible thing because her husband doesn’t joke. But, judging by the genuinely confused look on his face, he also really doesn’t know just what he’s looking at.

“It’s a crib, Roman,” she answers, providing additional information when that one word also doesn’t seem to trigger anything for him. “It’s actually a 4 in 1 with a changing table and can also be converted to a crib and a toddler bed as they get older, so we wouldn’t have to buy new—”

“I don’t want them using old shit,” Roman’s interruption, despite the almost rude wording, is more informative than anything. “We’ll buy them new things as they need em’.”

Solana frowns a bit. “But, if we can find something so we don’t have to spend unnecessary money—”

“If it’s for them, it’s not unnecessary, Sol.” She rolls her eyes, as he asks with almost uncertainty. “So a crib….it’s like….a baby bed?”

She nods, her small smile returning. “Yes.” She motions to the screen that shows the pink and one number she finds herself really liking. “The rails on it keep them from falling out or even climbing out when their gross motor skills start to kick in more.” 

“When does that start?”

“It depends,” Solana answers. “Every baby is different. They typically learn how to roll over at around 4 months, and their mobility just continues to grow and improve from there.”

Roman nods, clearly taking in all of this new information. “So does that mean they’ll need to sleep in the room with us?” His question is so innocent, borderline naive, that it makes Solana giggle. “Until they learn….how to control their movements and shit.”

She shakes her head, gentle grin on her face matching her patient tone. “No, baby. They don’t need to sleep in the room with us. We’ll just get baby monitors to put up in their nursery.” Sensing he’s still hesitant, she adds, “they have ones with audio and video.”

This seems to settle him a bit when he, in true Roman fashion, picks up on a single word. “They’ll have separate rooms.”

Solana rolls her eyes. “Maybe when they’re older, but as babies, they can share the same nursery, Ro.”

It’d honestly make things easier, too, as Solana plans to breastfeed, and just the logistics of it, changing them, rocking them, and other things, will be significantly easier if they’re feet apart instead of rooms apart.

However, Roman doesn’t seem to be having it. 

“I want them to have their own space.”

She sits up a bit, looking at him, borderline shocked. “As babies?” She shakes her head, rubbing her temples. “Roman, they won’t even know what a room is, let alone anything about a space.”

“You don’t know that for certain.”

“Roman—” Solana has to stop herself. Lord knows she loves this man with everything in her, but he’s being impossible right now. Just like she also knows there can be no reasoning with him when he gets like this. “Okay, we—we can revisit this later.” Eager to get onto another similar baby subject, she asks, “how–how is this going to work?”

He looks at her. “What do you mean?”

Realizing her question was far too vague, she doesn’t waste any time clarifying. “I mean with the shopping portion. There’s a lot of things we’re going to need, and I can definitely get a lot of it online, but I’d like to be able to shop in person…and for you to go with me.”

The elaboration is helpful, Roman nodding, clearly understanding the true, unspoken concern in all of that.

In that how do they keep this pregnancy as under wraps as possible while still being able to enjoy it with little things like baby shopping.

“You just have to let me know at least a couple hours in advance if you want to go somewhere and where exactly you want to go, so I can have the stores cleared out.” Solana partially expected as such, given how he’s done the same every time they go grocery shopping together. Same with the empty doctor's office they're currently sitting in, waiting for the start of her three month check up appointment, Bautista and their security team patrolling the premises.

And, she’s not even showing yet.

But, it’s what he says next that she hasn’t really thought about. “And when you start showing, you won’t be able to go out much.”

She frowns. “What do you mean?”

Roman sighs, clearly trying to word it as best he can. A thoughtfulness always reserved for her. “Realistically speaking, there’s a chance, even if small, this pregnancy will reach the ears of people who don’t need to know. So, that means I have to eliminate their access to you—”

“But, I have security—”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.” A gentle but firm interruption. “My family had security that night, too, and look what still happened.” Solana’s shoulders slump, her heart aching seeing the flash of pain cross his handsome face. “The only way to ensure the safety of you and the babies is to cut off any access to you.”

She's following along, understanding where he’s coming from, but it’s not exactly what she was wanting and expecting to hear. “I….I won’t be able to leave the house?”

Roman pauses. “You will, just….on an as needed basis.”

Solana grows quiet, sitting on Roman’s words. They make sense, given who he is, what them welcoming children into this world will mean for them. Mean for him. Though she can’t deny a part of her is saddened at the fact that she won’t be able to treat this pregnancy like any other expectant mother would.

That she can’t be out shopping, bump displayed freely, without having to worry about who sees it. Dragging Roman from store to store as she tries to find matching outfits for their girls. Having him help her pick out furniture, while they consult with the sales associates for what is best. The normal things.

And Roman sees this, sees the sort of grief she’s experiencing at realizing some of that, maybe none of that, will be possible.

That at some point, she’ll be practically homebound.

“I know….” He trails off, Solana hating the regret that crosses his handsome face. “I know it’s not what you imagined or probably want, and I’m sorry it’s because of me, but—”

She shakes her head, completely shifting gears, unwilling to have him feel anything remotely close to bad. “I wouldn’t want this if I couldn't do it with you.” An easy thing to share, even if it seems to startle her husband. Solana sees the surprise, feels the way he’s almost moved by such a thing. “Ro….” Solana reaches across, taking his hand and settling it on her stomach, her hand atop of his. “There’s no one else I’d want to do this with, but you. If I couldn’t have you as the father of my children, I wouldn’t want children. It’s…..it’s you or nothing, Roman.” She smiles, eyes watering. “And if that means some of the traditional things I don’t get to do or have, then that’s just what it is.”

Because at the end of the day, the most important thing is doing whatever it takes to welcome two healthy babies into this world. Some things might be missed, yes, but she’s certain it’ll all be worth it the moment Lina and Leya arrive.

Leaning up, she kisses his bearded jaw, murmuring, “I love you.”

He repeats it back at the same moment the nurse comes out and calls her name. Solana takes Roman’s hand as they walk to the back, going through the same order of things as her last few appointments. Questions. Urine sample. Bloodwork. It’s all routine at this point, the most exciting part being when Dr. Sharmell walks in. She asks her usual questions, and Solana provides her honest answers. 

Sometimes Roman chimes in with a question usually regarding what to expect at this point in her pregnancy, so he knows what to expect. It’s all so attentive and moving, how much he cares and how invested he is.

“Time for your favorite part,” Dr. Sharmell jokes as she moves the transducer over Solana’s stomach, searching only briefly. “Here’s Baby A.” The rhythmic beating is soothing and relieving, a big smile on Solana’s face as she looks over at the screen, immensely settled by the sound of her baby’s heartbeat. “Heartbeat just as strong as last time.”

Roman rubs his thumb over Solana’s knuckles as the doctor travels the transducer around a little bit longer this time around. “Baby B once again giving me a hard time.” She shakes her head, Solana holding in her smile at the thought that crosses her mind. A silly one, in some ways. 

Lina. 

Lina comes to mind. Glimpses of her spitfire and wild child spirit from her and Roman’s shared dreams, and how making her identification during a routine ultrasound difficult seems just so aligned with her personality.

“There you are,” Dr. Sharmell makes an ‘aha’ sound, the baby’s steady heartbeat once again filling the room. “And there’s Baby B.”

Solana’s eyes water as she stares at the screen, seeing her children, her babies. “They’re getting so big.”

“They are,” the doctor smiles, observing. “I see you’re still not showing yet, but I’d gather it’s only a matter of a few weeks until you’ll see a bump.”

Solana giggles, squeezing Roman’s hand, completely uncaring of what the emergence of a bump might mean for safety measures. Having a baby bump makes this pregnancy just that much more real. 

Physical proof of the lives growing inside of her. 

“Everything looks good?” Her husband asks, ever the concerned and wanting to stay on top of everything.

Dr. Sharmell nods. “Everything looks great. Babies are growing as expected at the three month mark. Stats look great,” she answers, going to wipe the gel off Solana’s stomach. “In fact, you don’t have to be on pelvic rest anymore.” The announcement takes both husband and wife by surprise, as the OB-GYN continues to explain, “your ultrasound has come back clear during your last three visits with no bleeding since the initial incident. I could have cleared you last week, but I just wanted to make absolute certain.”

Roman and Solana share a look, the former asking, almost skeptically, “are you sure?”

“Positive,” she reassures. She directs her statement to Solana. “You can resume all normal activity. Exercise, regular movement, sexual activity, the usual.” Dr. Sharmell moves to grab her tablet, tapping around and gasping. “Oh my goodness. I almost forgot. So sorry. Your NIPT test results came back, and it was also clear from any signs of chromosomal disorders for the babies.” A small smile grows on her face as she looks between the parents. “And there were no Y chromosomes detected in either fetus, which means—”

“Girls,” Solana finishes, eyes watering all over again. “We’re having twin girls.”

—---------

The sounds of the clips being unloaded is muffled by the earmuffs on her ears, the recoil force something Solana is able to withstand much better than the first time she fired, and it’s an improvement noticed by Afia.

“Nice,” Afia compliments, taking note of the continued improvement in Solana’s aim. She waits for the younger woman to remove her earmuffs before applauding, “you’re a quick learner.”

Solana smiles, appreciative. “Thank you.” She looks back over at the target, seeing holes all around the dummy’s abdomen and shoulder, the areas Afia has taught her to always aim for. “You’re a great teacher.��

Afia grins, dipping her head and winking. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

In the few weeks they’ve trained and hung out together at the shooting range, Solana has learned a lot about the woman who is technically her sister-in-law. Starting with the fact that Afia is actually a retired master assassin, a member of an elite group of female assassins in her home country of Nigeria.

Learned how from a young child, like Roman, Afia was taught one thing and one thing only. 

Kill or be killed. 

That she was molded and shaped into the nonpareil killer that she is. That she was.

Because the Nigerian woman also shared how she walked away from it all, turned her back on her sisters, was disowned by her “family” the day she decided to choose love instead of violence.

How instead of choosing to kill Matteo, her intended target and assignment, she ended up falling in love with the man. A love that has withstood a tremendous amount of trials and tribulations but has remained strong and resulted in three beautiful children. 

Solana admires her in so many ways and truly appreciates all the help and insight she’s provided.

It’s helped her in ways she’s not quite sure how to explain. 

Afia looks Solana over, acknowledging, “you’re small and have a kind aura about you, Solana, but make no mistake, there’s definitely one hell of a fighter in there, too.”

Words that Solana takes to heart, that maybe just months ago, she wouldn’t agree with. She wouldn’t agree that anything about or in her comes remotely close to a fighter. But, the truth of the matter is that Solana has always been a fighter. A survivor. Overcome more adversity than anyone could ever realize.

Been burned by the fire but survived nonetheless.

She is fire. 

It’s been a long journey, largely aided to and due to her husband, due to Roman doing something as simple as making her learn how to train, how to fight, something she’s learned to love and will miss throughout this pregnancy, but something she still holds with her. 

That fight.

“Kinda hard to not at least try to catch up when surrounded by so many strong people,” Solana says with a small smile as the two women to start removing their bulletproof vests, clearly ready for a lunch break. 

Afia chuckles softly, soft eyes focused ahead, as Bautista quietly escorts them to the cafeteria. “You’ve always been strong, Solana. It just maybe took you a little longer to realize it. That’s the case with a lot of women who’ve been told what they can and can’t do, who they are, and what they are and are not.” She casts the shorter woman a meaningful gaze, “but the truth is that there is no stronger being on this planet than a woman. Do you know why?” Solana shakes her head as the two women reach the door that Bautista holds open for them. Afia chuckles and steps forward, answering clearly and with zero hesitation. “Because just as easily as we can create life—” Something dark and intentful flashes in her pretty eyes, the lingering remnants of the killer that will always lie within. “We can take it, too.”

At one point in Solana’s life, not even a year ago, such a statement would unnerve her. Maybe even scare her a bit, but there’s something about the transformative journey she’s been on all these months that has her in such a different place.

The fact that she has not only one, but two lives, growing inside of her. Two daughters. All of that has her in such a different place with a different mindset than she had just some months ago when talking with her husband about her fear of how badly she hurt Wesley. Her fear of if she unintentionally would end up killing him.

Of killing in general.

Then, Solana told Roman she didn't think she could live with herself if she ever did such a thing.

Now, she no longer feels the way.

She would prefer to never be in that situation, to never have to make that call, but the truth of the matter is that if she had to, if she had to kill to protect, she would.

For herself.

For Roman.

For her daughters.

Because not only has she made a vow that no man would ever hurt her again, she’s made the same for her girls.

For her family. 

She’ll do whatever it takes to protect them, to protect their lives.

Even if it means taking someone else’s. 

Afia and Solana continue to engage in discussion about topics regarding life and training when that damn nausea returns, prompting Solana to place down the last bit of her sandwich as she covers her mouth. 

Afia is forever perceptive and notices as such, asking, “are you alright?”

Solana nods, mustering up a small smile and trying to play it off. “Yes. The food is just.....probably not agreeing with me.”

It feels like a good answer, a good excuse. And, it is, if not for Afia being who she is. 

The other woman chuckles quietly, asking in a low voice that’s not necessarily required given Roman had the entire shooting range cleared just for the two women to train. Something he’s done since their first lesson and will continue to do.

Afia’s gaze is assessing. “How far along are you?”

Solana, to the best of her abilities, tries to hide the complete shock that shoots through her body at Afia’s cavalier question. But, it’s difficult, to say the least. “Wh–what?”

“Solana…..” Afia leans across the table, placing her hand on top of Solana’s. “I know we haven’t known each other for long, but we’re technically family, if our stubborn husbands would set aside their pride and talk things out, that is.” Another bombshell as Solana is unsure if Afia is referring to Matteo and Roman as cousins or the half-brothers that they really are. “And, I know this is a rare thing in this world, something that’s almost non-existent, but I promise that you can trust me. You have my word. On my childrens' life.”

Such a strong, powerful statement that Solana doesn't take lightly. That she believes. Because if there’s one thing she’s learned about the woman sitting across from her, it’s that Afia does not play about her family. Especially her children. 

She’d never include them in something like that if she didn’t mean it.

It’s why Solana finds herself asking in a quiet voice, “how—how did you know?”

“I’m a mother myself, Solana. I’ve been there before with the morning sickness, the light headedness, the headaches.” Solana continues to sit stunned as Afia lists off some of the symptoms the wife of the Tribal Chief thought she’d hidden well enough when they hit her during her trainings. “The pregnancy glow.” 

At that, Solana’s eyes light up. “I–I have that?”

Afia nods with a warm smile. “You do.”

There’s something about that, about that acknowledgement from another woman, another mother, that means the world to Solana. 

“I’m—I’m three months,” she finally answers, confirming what Afia clearly already knows. “It’s–it’s twins.”

It’s always been discussed that the pregnancy should be kept private and will continue to be kept as such, but Solana knows that if she talks with Roman, explains how Afia knowing transpired, that he won’t be upset. 

The same way she wasn’t upset when he told her how he told Ava and Dwayne about the pregnancy.

Family.

Ava. Dwayne. Afia. 

They’re family, and Solana can only count the days until she can share her big news with the rest of her family.

“Twins?” Afia gasps, face filled with awe. “What a blessing.” Curiosity brimming, she inquires, “do you know the genders yet or…..”

“Girls,” Solana answers, hand over her belly, overcome with pride. “They’re both girls.”

“Solana….” Afia’s laughter is light and so joyful. “Congratulations. You are going to be an amazing mother.”

A compliment Solana could never tire of hearing. Reassurance she needs in some ways. “Thank you.” Clearing her throat, she wipes at her eyes, sharing, “it’s….it’s nice to finally be able to have someone to talk to about this, about….being pregnant.”

Afia laughs. More heartily this time. “Well, I am an open book for any questions you may have.” She smirks, leaning back and crossing her arms. “I do have some experience with this, you know.”

And Solana is instantly filled with such happiness, such relief in some ways, because having only her doctor and Roman talk to about her pregnancy is fine, but not enough in some ways. Because her doctor can only help from a medical standpoint, and Roman’s knowledge is obviously limited. 

So, Afia, another woman, another mother, being available to offer insight is invaluable.

In more than one way.

“Afia….” Solana is the one to sit forward, gaze focused on the woman opposite her. “You know Matteo and Roman are brothers….don’t you?” 

She has to. Her wording basically confirmed as such. 

“I do,” she answers. Nothing more.

It’s not needed though.

“Then….then I need your help with something else, too.” Because this family has already been so broken, so shattered, so unhealed. It’s time to change that. Solana is determined to make a better, cohesive, healed future for her girls and this next generation of children.

“I’m listening.”

Solana takes a deep breath, pushing aside any amount of self-doubt. “I want to help Roman and Matteo actually be brothers.” She explains, offering with just as much determination, “our children will be cousins, and I want them to have a relationship. I want them to be close, but I don’t know if that can happen if Matteo and Roman don’t form some kind of relationship.”

Form a brotherhood. 

Afia nods, clearly taking in all of the information, Solana a bit unsure if she should have waited. If maybe she came on too strong, that doubt trying to creep its way back in. And then, Afia smiles, simply asking, 

“Where should we start?”

—------------

Roman wasn’t expecting to see his wife again until later in the evening. They both had busy days, her with her training with Afia and work, as well as him with work. So, he’s more than surprised when she shows up at his office looking every bit as fine as she is in a sexy, little red piece. It’s far too easy for him to bark for everyone to get the fuck out of his office so that he’s left alone with said wife. 

But, as the room is quickly cleared, he can’t help but wonder what brings her to see him. She’s always a sight for sore eyes, but he can’t shake the feeling there’s something behind this surprise visit. 

Her smile is bashful, something similar to shyness, a bit of a thing she’ll probably always have around her husband. “Hey.”

“Hey.” His eyes move over her, a mixture of studying and admiring. Her body has always been divine, but the slight changes he’s noticed because of her pregnancy have only elevated her to a delectable category. “You alright?”

She nods. “Yeah, I just….I wanted to see you.”

Roman’s eyes flitter to something curious. “Baby, we just saw each other this morning.”

She shrugs with one shoulder and chews down on her bottom lip. “I know, but….” Solana looks around, focusing mostly on the door, almost expecting someone to walk in. To interrupt. Even though she has a feeling anyone with a brain knows not to interrupt the Tribal Chief when she’s around.

When his wife is present.

“Solana?”

Him calling her name pulls her from wandering thoughts. Solana redirects her focus back to him, trying her best to think on how to word it. In the car, on the way here, it seemed a lot more straightforward, but now standing here in front of him, it’s anything but.

“I…..” Solana breaks away from him, sliding her purse off her shoulder and placing it in one of the chairs on the opposite side of his desk. She feels his gaze never leave her as she hops up on his desk, ankles crossed. An intentional gesture. “Do—do you have a meeting soon?”

Curiosity gleams in his warm brown eyes as he walks over to her, a simple two steps with his long legs. “Define soon.” When she doesn’t answer, he skips right to the chase. “Solana, why are you really here?”

It’s not asked rudely, just something conceived from dire intrigue. 

Solana leans forward, palming the edge of his desk for support. “You know I was…..I was cleared this morning,” she reminds. An unnecessary thing given Roman was right there next to her at her appointment this morning and heard that same things that she did. “I’m…..I’m not on pelvic rest anymore…..” Her voice slides into something quiet and unsure, similar to the way she’s looking at her husband. A husband whose face is filled with knowing and realization.

“Solana….” A pained, almost rough iteration of her name as he moves closer and lifts her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. “Why are you here?”

There’s something about how it’s asked, the heaviness and almost need in said question, the way Solana knows that Roman knows exactly why she’s here.

And she tells him just as much.

Just, in her own way.

Solana closes her knees together to force her husband a few steps back, and when he does so, she proceeds to lay back on his desk just enough to give her the room she needs. Sliding her dress up higher, dangerously high, it’s when she slowly spreads her legs once more and Roman’s eyes flint downward that she sees it.

Sees the way his jaw clenches, his eyes gloss over with an undeniable and unmistakable amount of lust.

“Fuck, Sol…..”

Her mouth slips into something similar to a smile. “Exactly.” She leans up just enough to reach for him, to pull her between her open legs that reveal her exposed cunt and the fact that she’s not wearing any underwear. Solana glides her hands up his chest, cupping his face, as she murmurs, “I want you…..”

Roman’s eyes shut, his voice strained. “Here?” He moves his hands to her hips, tugging her forward. “I would have come home….”

“We can do it again when you get home.” It comes out before she even really realizes what she’s saying, a shocking thing that takes them both back. Solana’s cheeks heat up as she clarifies, “if—if you want.”

“You know I always want that with you,” he assures, kissing the corner of her mouth. He looks at her, lust briefly replaced with all the seriousness. “Are you sure?”

It’s a question that doesn’t even require any sort of contemplation. “Yes.”

The ‘s’ has barely left her mouth when Roman smashes his lips over hers with a hunger that’s equally yoked. Solans moves her arms around her neck, pulling him closer, savoring the feel of his full lips on hers, the intimate, intricate dance of yearning and longing. Roman slides his tongue into her mouth, evoking a yawn as she tightens her thighs around his waist.

Roman groans and drops his mouth to her neck, Solana’s lips parting, her hands to the back of his neck as he sucks on her sensitive mouth and moves his hand over her breast, palming them. She moans and arches her back, oh so sensitive to his touch, a combination of it being far too long since they could be together in this way as well as the changes her body has started to undergo due to her pregnancy.

Solana moves her hands up to slide his suit jacket off, something Roman assists her with as he tosses it off in the distance, uncaring of how it falls onto the floor. He moves to kiss her again, Solana smiling into said kiss only to gasp when Roman nudges his hand in between her legs. 

“You get so wet for me, baby…..” His tongue darts out and over his bottom lip, watching how the pleasure from just a simple touch has her head lolled back. “Lay back a bit for me, sweetheart.”

Solana doesn’t have to be told twice. Excitement fills her as she follows his request. Roman moves his hands to her hips, tugging her a bit forward on his desk as she rests on her elbows. Looking down at him, Solana watches his eyes gloss over with that returned lust, that hunger that always seems to fill him whenever they’re intimate.

“You have such a pretty pussy….” It’s the way he licks his lips and moves to his knees that has Solana’s nails scraping against the wood of his desk. 

And, he hasn’t even touched her yet.

“Keep your legs open for me.” A soft, sultry command that doesn’t need issuance, Solana already adjusting her body and scooting down the desk. But, Roman quickly switches gears, deciding on something different. 

“Fuck it.” Is the last thing Solana hears before her husband has his face buried into that sacred, dripping apex of her thighs. 

“Roman,” she shouts, immediately biting down on her bottom lip to try to keep herself quiet, a difficult task as Roman sucks on her clit with all the urgency and need in the world. “Oh my…..” Her head falls back, her fingers moving to the top of his head. Solana moans as Roman adjusts her legs, one over each shoulder, heels falling off, her calves squeezing against his back.

His thick warm tongue working that magic over her most sensitive bud has her struggling to remain quiet, to not alert anyone outside of the safe space of his office just what carnal activities are transpiring. 

He pulls away, and Solana just about loses it, “I wanna hear you, sweet girl. Stop being so quiet.”

Solana would love to look down at him, meet the dazed, lustful gaze that must fill his eyes, but head thrown back, chest heaving up and down from the sensations of it all make it hard to do so. The same way it’s damn near an arduous task to muster up a verbal reply. “It’s….your office….they’ll—shit—they’ll hear.”

Roman growls lowly and tugs her closer, Solana shooting up off the desk when he thrusts his tongue back inside her. “Ro!”

“Good,” he sounds, face immersed back into her pussy that has his beard soaked, her essence dripping and making a mess all over a $50,000 desk. “Let them.” He’s never been so unbothered. “Let them hear you’re mine.”

Solana whimpers and writhes as he continues to eat her out within an inch of her life, bringing her to kingdom come and back as she comes all over his face and into his mouth, the Tribal Chief lapping up every ounce of it like it’s his last supper. And Solana has truly gone too long without being intimate with her husband, because it’s almost naive on her part for her to think one is enough. 

No. Roman has a minimum of two to three. Two to three times he has to make her come with his mouth, some assistance from his fingers but mostly that talented tongue of his. On several occasions, he’s made it clear, in several graphic ways, just how much he enjoys this. Enjoys going down on her, so much so that Solana has learned trying to push him away as she comes down from her orgasm only makes him pull her closer, as he starts his journey to bringing her to heaven all over again.

It’s too much and yet exactly what she’s been wanting. Been needing. 

And it’s with that same need, she grabs him by the back of his head and presses their lips together, tasting herself on those same, talented, full lips when he’s finally and fully satiated. 

Solana’s hands can’t move fast enough to reach for the belt, but she’s no match for the speed in which Roman has his pants undone and her perched on the edge of the desk, ready and waiting. 

And the minute his thick mushroom head pushes into her, Solana grips his shoulders, the wince on her face more than enough to cause him to stop.

“You alright?” His voice drips with concern, Solana able to feel him pull back just enough, prompting her to shake her head. 

“I’m fine,” she assures, holding him, pulling him closer. “It’s just….it’s been a while.” Too long. “Please—please don’t stop.” Because that’s absolutely not what she needs. She needs him, and she needs him now. 

Roman still looks a bit reluctant, Solana silencing his doubts by pressing her lips against his and maneuvering her hand in between their bodies to reposition him. “Please….” 

Roman obliges, Solana’s hand dropping and moving to grip his shirt as he carefully inches himself into her. She bites down on his shoulder, uncaring of the lipstick stain now on his shirt. “Oh my God…..”

It’s a bit of a burning sensation, somewhat painful, something similar to their first time, but it’s expected. Solana expected there to be some difficulty taking all of him again after such a long period of time. Doesn’t make her want him any less though. Want this any less.

He kisses her temple, asking. “You okay?”

A soft smile and sincere answer. “I’m okay.” Because it’ll never not move her with how attentive and caring he always is, even outside of their sex life, but it somehow seems more prominent in this aspect of their relationship.

Solana can absolutely tell and feel when he’s completely inside of her, an overwhelming sensation that’s been missed even more than she realized. She squeezes his shoulders, whining almost, “move….”

Again, always wanting to assess her comfort, Roman looks down at her, studying her face. Needing that reassurance, and the minute he receives it, Solana is already gasping, feeling him pull out just enough to slide back into her, the tip of his long, thick dick pressing that spot inside of her.

“Yes,” she moans, the pleasure easily and quickly overpowering any amount of discomfort. “Ro….”

His thrusts intensify by the seconds that pass, the slick feeling of her pussy, hugging and tugging his dick with all the need. “Like that, baby?”

“Yes.” She cries, overwhelmed in the best sort of way. “Just—just like that, oh—”

Solana moans when Roman moves his hand under her ass, lifting her up just enough to switch and change up the angle. God, he feels so good.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed this,” Roman’s voice is heavy and deep with need, his mouth traveling the perimeter of his  face. “Missed being inside this pussy.”

Solana feels numb, feels so many, too many things to say anything. Can only continue to lock her ankles above Roman’s ass as he fucks into her, his hips thrusting against and into her, driving her delirious in some ways. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, Sol.” Roman tips her forward once more, eager and needing to dig into her, to continue to feel her come undone around him. “Good ass pussy gripping my shit like this.”

“You’re so deep.” It’s impossible how much he fills her, the fullness that consumes her, the pleasure that he brings her. “Mmm feels amazing, papi.”

“Fuck, Sol,” Roman curses, squeezing her ass, pumping into her harder, deeper. “If you weren’t already pregnant….”

Solana smiles as he buries his face into her neck, his mouth ghosting over the collarbone of her fully healed tattoo. The tattoo for him. A reminder of her love and devotion to him.

It’s that devotion that fills her and drives her to make him look at her, her hands cupping his face, “mine.”

His eyes shut, his forehead pressed against hers, vowing, “yours.” She clenches around him, both nearly coming in that same moment. “Always yours.”

Solana gasps, intakes sharply as he claims her mouth in a kiss that’s broken by her moan, loud and heavy. “I love you,” she whimpers, nails digging into his clothed shoulders. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you, too, baby,” he murmurs, never once stopping his delicious thrusts, his determination to bring her over the edge, to take her to that wonderful place only he knows the way to is unwavering. And with each thrust, with each reminder of his love and devotion for her, Solana’s caring for who, if anyone, overhears dwindles.

She doesn’t care.

This is her husband.

The father of her children.

The Tribal Chief, and she, his wife. 

His a faletua.

The Wife of The Tribal Chief.

She can do whatever she damn well pleases. 

And she does, as she comes, still uncaring of anyone hearing her moans, of how vocal she is at how good her husband makes her feel. The way she savors in the way he once again buries himself into her neck, groping her big breast as he too reaches his climax, emptying his seed all into her. Solana clutches her legs around him, wanting all of it. Everything he has, she wants.

In all the ways. 

She holds onto him, enjoying the feel of his big, strong body leaning, resting into hers. She kisses his temple, again reaffirming her love for him.

And after a few minutes of silence, he speaks, voice low with lingering need. “You need to come visit me every day.”

She giggles, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. “I just might.” He’s still buried inside of her, growing soft, but she swears she feels his dick jerk at her reply. “My….drive has been…..high.” 

Because, it has. Because while Solana has completely understood the need for pelvic rest and would do so for the rest of her pregnancy to keep her babies safe and healthy if necessary, the lifting of said restriction is something she’s also very much looked forward to the past few weeks. Especially as her sex drive has spiked ten levels. Another pregnancy symptom.

One she’s elated to no longer have to suppress. 

The implication with her pronunciation of the word drive makes Roman look up, his gaze filled with desire and baseline level of excitement. “I can take care of that.”

She smiles, eyes darting from his eyes to his lips, whispering, “yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, closing the gap between them, leaning over her body, laying her back on the desk. Solana giggles against his mouth, already feeling—in more ways than one—where this is headed.

Would be headed.

“....I keep trying to tell you, Roman don’t care if I go—OH MY GOD!”

Solanna’s scream of horror is just about what and what with Jimmy’s as he quickly scrambles to shut the door. Solana tries to hide her face into her husband’s chest, her husband who barks at his cousin to “get the fuck out!”

Embarrassment fills her as the two of them move to separate, Roman looking every bit as irritated—or enraged—as he feels. Solana’s hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with continued horror, the sound of Jimmy outside the door a soundtrack to this quite unexpected scene.

“Alicia! Get the bleach! And the Lysol! And the CDC! I need one of them yellow suits they had in Monster’s Inc!  

—----------

Roman was in a decent mood after starting the day off with Solana’s OB-GYN appointment and was in an even better mood when his wife surprised him with a visit. A visit that resulted in them being intimate intimate again after far too long. But, that better mood was immediately squashed the moment his dumbass cousin interrupted them, the same cousin who sits at the same conference table as himself, Dwayne, Matteo, and the Wise Man, still going on and on about what happened a good two hours ago.

“Don’t make no damn sense,” Jimmy scowls, randomly spraying Lysol around him, setting the personal sized can on the table. “Ya’ll couldn’t go somewhere else?”

Roman’s expression is every bit as bored as his tone. “It’s my office, Jimmy.” He lifts his eyes, voice even as he reminds. “I’ll fuck my wife all over that space if I want to.”

It’s then that Matteo gives a look of understanding. “Is that what you’re so upset about?” He asks Jimmy, scoffing and sharing. “I’ve done the same with my wife plenty of times in my office. It’s normal.”

“And, I don’t have a wife, but Lord knows I’ve done some things in my office as well.” Dwayne smirks, leaning back into his chair. 

Jimmy makes a face, mocking the two men. “This ain’t about ya’ll!” He dismisses them, pointing to himself. “This is about me. I am a victim!”

Matteo looks toward his brother and asks in Italian. “Is he always like this?”

Roman rolls his shoulders, answering in the same language. “Unfortunately.”

“I mean, that’s why they make bedrooms. Ya’ll could have done that shit at ya’ll damn house,” Jimmy continues to object, shaking his head, nose turned up. “It was like walking in on my little sister or something.”

Roman rolls his eyes, suddenly curious. “You really think we’ve only had sex in our bedroom at our house?”

At one point, the answer was yes. When they first started being intimate, Solana still growing into her comfortability with sex, yes. It was limited to the bedroom, as that was her comfort level. But now? Especially in the days and weeks following her return from treatment? Roman has easily made his wife come on every available space in that damn house. 

A realization that has Jimmy just about ready to throw up. “You mean I been contaminated?” His eyes are wide and filled with horror as he lifts the can of Lysol, spraying much more than necessary, evoking a fit of heavy, violent coughs from the asthmatic Wise Man. “I’m suing!”

Dwayne and Matteo share a chuckle at the ever dramatic Jimmy, while Roman decides it’s time to switch gears. 

It’s time to get to business.

He sits forward, asking in an unmistakably irritated voice. “Where are your brothers and dad, Jimmy?”

It’s a shift in tone and energy that makes all the men sit up straight, even Jimmy, who answers, “I don’t know, man. They knew to be here.”

“But, they’re not,” Roman finishes. He glances at the expensive watch on his wrist, frustration growing exponentially seeing they’re almost 15 minutes late. 

Unacceptable. 

“Wise Man.”

Paul stands up almost immediately. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Call—” Roman’s directive is interrupted by the arrival of the missing parties themselves. In walks in Rikishi, followed by his sons, Solo and Jey. 

All wear unreadable expressions with the exception of Jey who looks annoyed, and that only pisses Roman off more.

To show up late to a meeting called by the Tribal Chief is one thing. To show up late and deepen that disrespect by looking irritated is a whole other level of contempt.

Roman rolls his shoulders and tries to settle himself by focusing on the objective of said meeting.

Even if that same objective is most likely going to exacerbate an already tense situation.

Once everyone is settled, Wise Man naturally steps into the role of mediator. 

“Gentlemen, thank you for your attendance today,” he starts out, Roman partially listening, mostly focused on how Jey is focused on the wall of windows across the room rather than the discussion that’s about to change everything. Like, he doesn't care.

It’s infuriating. 

“Your Tribal Chief has called this meeting today for a very important reason given the….less than unfortunate events that have transpired over the past few weeks and months.” Unfortunate is one way to put it. “Now, please understand, your Tribal Chief has thought long and hard on how to proceed and respond to these events in a way that is fair and just, but still—”

“You’re all out.”

Roman’s interruption is short, blunt, and concise. A simple sentence with a hefty weight behind it.

Rikishi is the first to respond. He sits forward, removing his glasses. “Excuse me?”

Solo and Jey exchange confused expressions. 

“You’re all hereby removed from my cabinet and relieved of any current, higher up Bloodline duties,” Roman continues his explanation, also sitting forward, studying the non-verbals of each man. “Solo, you’re also removed from Solana’s security detail. You and Jey will be joining the trainers and training new recruits. Rikishi, your primary task will be whatever the Elders assign you with. Just know it won’t be coming from me.”

“Is this a joke?” It’s the first thing to come out of Jey’s mouth as he looks over at Jimmy who’s also just as confused. An expected thing given this was a decision made between Roman, Dwayne, and even Matteo, given how closely connected he’s come to Bloodline business. Especially as he was privy to Jey’s latest and last outburst. “You gotta be fucking with me?”

Roman’s voice is even and challenging. “Do I look like I’m joking?” A rhetorical question to a stupid ass question.

“Roman, this is madness,” Rikishi objects, his voice also even as he looks between his two fellow ousted sons. “How can you—”

“You all have disrespected me, disrespected my reign, my leadership in one way or another.” He’s tempted to add in ‘my wife’, but ultimately goes against it, already knowing they’ll try to say this is personal. Even if, in some ways, it is. “I don’t stand for that shit from anyone.” Not even family. “I’ve killed for less.”

And, they all know this. 

“Fucking training?” Jey sneers, slamming his fist on the table. “You demoting me to a goddamn trainer?”

Roman growls, reminding, “you’re lucky demoting you is all I’m doing.” The Tribal Chief doesn’t hesitate to remind his hot headed cousin of the straw that broke the camel’s back. “That shit you pulled at the party was fucking unacceptable, Jey. Acting a fucking fool on neutral territory in the presence of Escobar and his men? You should have fucking known better.”

Jey responds by jumping up out of his seat, chair falling back onto the floor. “This some bullshit, Roman, and you know it!”

Jimmy also stands up, moving over to try to calm down his brother as Dwayne breaks his silence. “Your temper makes you a liability, Jey. We can’t have that.”

“You either learn to control it, or it’ll control you,” Matteo advises, studying the way Solo remains surprisingly calm in the face of upsetting news. It’s….interesting, to say the least.

Jey growls, “man, you stay the fuck out of this! You ain’t even fucking family!”

“That’s enough, Jey,” Jimmy tries to advise, even though Jey is clearly past the point of conversing. “Roman, this ain’t…..this ain’t a forever thing, right?”

Roman feels all eyes on him as he answers without hesitation. “We’ll see.”

It’s only then Solo gives some indication of his true feelings. Rage. Slowly, he stands, and as he does so, Matteo sits forward, as if ready and waiting. But, Rikishi places a hand on his son’s shoulder. The two share a look before the Elder responds, “is this really what you want to do, Uce?”

No. Truth be told, it’s not really what Roman wants to do, because while he’s always butted heads with Jey at various points over the years, like he’d told Solana that one time, he knows—or knew—the twins always had/have his back. And vice versa. Knew they’d die for him the same way he’d die for them. 

But, things have changed. Feelings have changed. Whatever lied dormant all these years has resurfaced, and Roman has no idea if, and when, it’ll settle.

And what he ultimately wants to avoid is the other alternative. The one that he and Jey utilized years prior. 

Tribal Combat.

Something Roman was victorious in at that time, but not something he wants to have for a second round. Because the stakes are higher this round, much higher. Because while Roman was simply allowed to defeat his cousin and call it resolved the first time. The second time, he won’t be as lucky. 

This time, with everything that’s happened, Jey’s public display of disrespect, Roman can’t just defeat Jey in combat. 

He’d have to kill him.

It would be to the death.

And while Roman isn’t sure he could ever admit this aloud to anyone, not even Solana, it doesn’t negate the fact that deep down, he’s not sure if he could do it.

He doesn't know if he could kill Jey, and not because of lack of ability but lack of want.

He doesn’t want to kill Jey.

So, that’s why this route is the route he must take, and it’s why he answers calmly, “yes.”

And, it’s with that, his decision is made. Final and without appeal options. Roman motions for the Wise Man to see the now three disgraced men out of his office, his flushed face advisor moving to point and usher the four men out.

Jimmy leaves with his brothers and father.

It’s only when he’s alone with his cousin and half brother, Roman sees Dwayne nod, advising, “you made the right decision, brotha’.”

“You made the only decision,” Matteo agrees. 

Roman looks away, silent and questioning. 

Because while the satisfaction of knowing one problem has been handled should settle the Tribal Chief, the nagging feeling that another entirely different one has just been created is something he can’t push away. 

—-----------

It’s a battle of senses. Roman’s sense of smell fights with his auditory system as he steps foot into the home. He smells the delicious aroma of whatever his beautiful wife has prepared for them this evening, and he also hears the music that’s playing through the speaker system throughout the home.

A small smile falls on his face as he walks gingerly toward the room where the music seems the loudest and the scent of dinner—and more—lures him. 

Roman proceeds gingerly when he’s in the vicinity of seeing her, but her not seeing him. The smile is conjoined with a warm feeling that only she evokes as he realizes not only is she singing along—he loves to hear her sing—but she’s playfully dancing around the kitchen as well. 

Roman maintains his safe distance to secure his ability to observe. To see the big smile on her beautiful face as she moves around the kitchen, one of those god-awful shirts Jimmy has made for him every Christmas on her frame that Solana stumbled across and has commandeered for herself ever since. And with her is Dulce, tail wagging, jumping up on her hind legs every so often as she “dances” with her mom.

But, it’s the way she occasionally brings her hand to her stomach, lovingly, protectively, that moves Roman the most. The way her eyes briefly close, clearly taking in this moment of pure bliss and long-deserved happiness. 

A similar feeling for him as well.

This. This is what he needs. Her. Her light. Her love. The balm she is for him on even his hardest days, and today is definitely up there on the list of difficult times.

You got a fast car

Is it fast enough so we could fly away?

Still gotta make a decision

Leave tonight, or live and die this way

A brief thought crosses Roman’s mind, an idea that prompts him to step away and head for his office. Hitting the light, he moves over to the bookcase set where his Canon sits. Years of experience allows him to switch the lenses and adjust the settings in a matter of minutes, allowing him to return without alerting his wife of his presence.

He starts with photos, snapping and capturing this moment in still shots. But then, the desire to bottle all of it—audio and video included, fills him, prompting him to switch to the record option. Roman watches her through the viewfinder, admiration abundant. 

So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights laid out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder

And I, I had a feeling that I belonged

I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

Solana spins around and laughs at the sight of Dulce also spinning around, but it’s also in that moment she becomes aware of the fact that she’s not alone.

Solana shouts in a mixture of surprise and fear, slapping her hand over her mouth. “Roman!” It’s the initial shock of seeing he’s present followed by the awareness that he’s also recording. “No. Ro, I look terrible!” She tries to hide her face, prompting him to remind her of what he’ll gladly spend the rest of his life doing.

“You look beautiful.” His compliment grants him her dropping her hands just enough to give away the fact that she’s hiding a smile. “You always do.”

Solana doesn’t say anything, just nervously darts her eyes up and down, asking, “how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.” Roman stops the video and lowers the camera to walk over to her. Solana leans up and wraps her arms around his neck, kissing him, as he murmurs, "missed you today.”

Because, he has. Any moment not spent with her and instead spent dealing with bullshit just intensifies that ache and borderline empty feeling he has whenever she’s not around.

Her smile is wry and playful. “You just saw me this afternoon.”

Roman absolutely picks up on the fact that she’s teasing him from his response to seeing her this afternoon, prompting him to remind her, “I did more than just see you, baby.”

“Roman!” She squeals when his hand drops to her bountiful ass, giving a squeeze. “Stop it.”

He’ll do no such thing, but he will allow her to bring him over to the stove. One hand holding his, Solana uses the other to stir around whatever is in the pot. She then grabs another smaller spoon, scooping up some and lifting it to his mouth. “Try this.”

He does so, easily. It only takes a second for the taste to set in. “It’s delicious,” he compliments. “But, everything you make is good as fuck, Sol. You know this.”

Her cheeks redden, as she explains, “it’s a new recipe I was trying. Got it from Afia. It’s Nigerian. Something called Gizdodo,” she says the name with uncertainty, sheepishly admitting, “I was worried you wouldn’t like it.”

“Solana, I love everything you make.” He loves everything about her, including and especially her excellent culinary skills. “Except that damn soup.”

Solana rolls her eyes, taking the spoon to toss it in the sink. “Roman, don’t start with that.”

“It’s not that it’s not good,” he defends. “It’s good as hell. There’s just nothing to it, and I’m hungry an hour later.”

Solana rolls her eyes and moves over to him, hands on his chest. “Ro, you’re hungry an hour later even when I don’t fix you soup.”

“Yeah, but I’m hungrier when it’s soup.”

Shaking her head, she goes to take the camera from him, pointing out of the kitchen. “Go change, so we can eat. Dinner will be ready soon.”

Roman answers by kissing her temple and lightly slapping her ass, prompting her to giggle as she playfully pushes him away. Dulce barks from the floor, clearly wanting his attention as well. Chuckling, he kneels down and pets her. “Hey girl,” he gives her a brief belly rub before sending her to resume her stalking of Solana by the stove. 

15 minutes later, he’s out of his work clothes, dressed in sweats and a short sleeved shirt, finding his wife still by the stove. He realizes she has the same song as before playing clearly on repeat.

Roman moves behind her, arms around her waist as she leans back into him, explaining softly, “my mother loved this song.” A quiet admission as he kisses her temple in a comforting gesture. “She—she used to play the original all the time while she cooked, and I used to dance with her, and in those moments, everything was fine. It was just….just me and her, and we were happy…..I was happy.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, just allows her to speak and share freely. He knows she's been working with Gail on processing her confusing feelings towards her mom and would never do anything to make her feel invalidated. Hate. Grief. Love.

It's all valid.

Her eyes shut, and she sighs heavily. “We’re not going to be like them, Ro.” Solana turns her head to look up at him. “We’re not going to be like our parents.”

It’s one of the easiest things he could agree to, and some of it, he can’t deny, is due to the conversations he’s had with Lita about the very same thing. “No. We’re not.”

She smiles, but it’s small, weighed down with memories of the past. He can relate entirely. “They’re gonna have a childhood.” She turns around again, so her head remains tilted back into his strong chest. Roman’s hand snakes down to her belly, protective placement. “A happy one…”

He’s in agreement. 1000%, but there’s something about her sentiment, a combination of all the conversations they’ve had the past few weeks that has him sharing something he’s gone from briefly contemplating to seriously considering. 

“Sol….” She looks back up at him, expression expectant. Roman lifts his hand to her cheek, index and thumb gently tipping her chin. “Let’s move.”

Naturally, she’s confused, her smile almost reluctant. “W…what?”

“Not out of state,” he clarifies. Though, if possible, he wouldn’t be entirely opposed to that either. Away from all these damn people. “A new house.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “A new house?”

The shock in her voice makes him chuckle. He nods. “Yes, baby. A new house.” The hand on her stomach moves around in a small circle. “Let’s build something. You tell me what you want in it, and I’ll have it made.” Solana continues to look astounded, Roman adding in a small voice. “A nice backyard for them….”

Solana turns around, forcing his hands down and to her hips. “You’re….you’re serious?”

“Yeah,” he answers. Roman lifts his hand to the small of her back, further explaining as he looks around. “This place is mine, and it’s been mine for years. It’s yours too, but it’s got more me than you, and I want it to be us.” He moves to cup her face, asking gently, “does that make sense?”

Because this house has been solely Roman's for so long, holds so many memories and experiences that no longer represent the future he wants. This was his bachelor home.

And, that's not what he wants anymore.

He wants a family home.

He wants to give his wife the home she wants and his daughters the kind of home that they deserve.

“It does.” Solana slides her hands up his chest, locking them behind his neck, her lips curving into a wide smile. “We can really build our own house?”

He chuckles. “We can do anything you want, Solana.”

She giggles, scoffing in disbelief. “Then….” She bounces a little against him, a clear sign of excitement. “Then let’s build a house.” Roman smiles as she moves to hug him, gasping and asking, “wait, I can design my own kitchen?”

“I’m certainly not going to do it,” he answers, chuckling when she slaps his arm. He watches how delight fills her eyes. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” she muses, sharing with continued elation. “I can have a kosher kitchen!”

“I have no idea what that means, but sure.”

Solana rolls her eyes and hugs him again, murmuring into his chest, “thank you.” And before he can remind her once again that she never has to thank him for anything he does for her, she peers up at him with those mischievous eyes. “Gotta start preparing for our six kids, huh?”

She’s quick to move away, giggling and opening cabinets to pull out plates. “Don’t start with that shit again, Solana.” Her laughter continues, a stark contrast to the serious expression on his face. He’s almost certain that one sentence alone has spiked his blood pressure. But, it pales in comparison to what his numbers must be when he catches onto something. “Did you just say six?”

—---------

His breathing is heavy, her fingers gliding up and across the sheen of sweat across his back. Roman continues to pulse inside of her, coming down from yet another shattering orgasm, every drop of his cum depleted inside of her addictive pussy. 

Solana kisses his temple, evoking a contented sigh. Carefully, Roman lowers one of her legs from off his shoulder and removes himself from her, plopping down on the bed beside her. Seconds later, she’s moving on top of him, laying against him.

“Ya know…..” Solana pants, clearly trying to catch her breath. “For someone who claims he doesn’t want a lot of kids, you sure do love doing the thing with me that can give us all those kids.”

He scoffs, explaining, “you’re already pregnant. I don’t need to be careful.”

Curious, Solana inquires, “and when I’m not pregnant anymore?”

Roman shrugs, continuing to glide his fingers up and down her arm. “Then, we’ll be careful.”

A scowl falls on her face, Solana unwilling to hide her displeasure or her stance. “I’m not getting on birth control. I don’t want to.” And she knows he won’t make her either. Will respect that decision and her. “So we start using protection–

Roman is immediately shutting that shit down. “I’m not using condoms.” 

Solana smiles knowingly, burying her face into his chest. 

No condoms. 

No birth control.

She’s certain she’ll end up pregnant again in a matter of months after the twins are born.

Roman will just have to deal with the “consequences” of them being so sexually active without any barriers to protect them from pregnancy. 

He’ll be fine. 

She snuggles even closer to him, dwelling in the comfort that always comes with being pressed against his body. He always makes her feel so safe when they’re cuddled together, but there’s something about this time that deters that. A feeling that nudges at her, prevents her from doing so, from getting comfortable, because it feels so obvious.

It’s why she sits up and looks down at her husband, asking, “what’s wrong?”

Solana is expecting him to deflect. She knows he’s been trying hard, working hard in therapy, to be more open with her, but it’s still a struggle. So, it partially surprises her when he answers, “I need to talk to you about something.” 

And right away, she knows she’s not going to like whatever he’s about to share. “O—okay.”

Roman’s hesitation is visible and palpable. “I know….I know you want this pregnancy to be as normal as possible, and I want that too. I want to be able to give you that—”

“And you can,” she cuts in, anxiety rising with the way her chest is starting to feel a little tight. She thought they already discussed this. “You have.”

His eyes briefly dart to the side of the room. “Years ago, when there was….a protocol when the wife of the Tribal Chief was pregnant. She....she would spend the pregnancy….away.”

Yeah…..Solana knew she wasn’t going to like this conversation. 

At all.

She sits up completely. “Roman, what are you saying?” His silence is damning. “Are—are you sending me away?”

“No.” A relieving answer preceded by a stressful follow-up. “Not…not unless I have t—Solana.” He stops mid-explanation as she kicks the sheets off and moves to get out of the bed. “Sol—”

“No,” she cuts him off, voice icy and slicing. Solana looks over at him, face filled with confusion and distress. “I can’t—I can’t believe you would even suggest that.”

Roman also sits up, running his hand over his face. He knew this wouldn’t be something she would enjoy hearing, but it’s something she needs to hear regardless. “Baby—”

He tries to reach for her, only for Solana to jerk away from him as she rises out of the bed. He ultimately decides to let her leave, closing his eyes when she slams the door to the bathroom. 

“Fuck….”

Again, it’s not that he expected Solana to be thrilled about this, especially as they’d discussed just this morning just how excited she was about all of this. About experiencing this pregnancy with him, and he can’t deny that those confused feelings he was experiencing about said pregnancy at the beginning have started to gradually shift to something likened with excitement.

That there was a sense of joy that filled him hearing confirmation that Solana is in fact pregnant with twin girls. Just like their dreams.

Dreams that have slowly been becoming a reality, but there’s also a darkness to his reality. One that places Solana in a tremendous amount of danger once news of her pregnancy starts to reach the wrong ears. 

And while there is some hint of decreasing that danger by “leaking” the fact that she’s carrying girls and not a boy, so not an heir, that’s something Roman could never be okay with. Nor does it take away the danger of her pregnancy being “public,” because her pregnancy, no matter how they could try to spin it, just puts an even bigger target on her head.

And, it’s that target that he finds him struggling with. It’s been there since the day she became his wife, but the fact that it’s even bigger, or will be, is unsettling to him. It’s why he’s found himself thinking of ways to minimize that risk, and the biggest, possibly best way, would be to have Solana spend the rest of the pregnancy in hiding of sorts. 

He’d maybe even consider letting her go to Mexico. Let her be around with family. But clearly, she’s not okay with any of that. 

At all. 

And, it’s not as if he’s thrilled about it either, because while he’s still working through feelings about being a dad, there’s a small part of him that feels a sense of grief at possibly not being able to experience that with her. Her first pregnancy. Their first pregnancy.

But, that grief is largely outweighed by his desire to protect her. Protect them.

He’ll do anything to keep his family safe.

Anything.

The sound of the shower running alerts Roman to the fact that Solana won’t be coming back to bed anytime soon, which is why he finds himself kicking the covers back, finding and sliding on his boxers and stepping over to the bathroom. 

He’s not surprised to find the knob unlocked, already knowing she just wanted space in the moment, not to not be around him at all.

It’s why he quietly closes the door behind him and walks over to the shower, seeing the backside silhouette of her nude frame standing under the running water. Roman removes his boxers and is careful, meticulous in the way he opens the shower door to join her without actually disturbing her.

Naturally, he moves to stand beside her, his arms around her, gently turning her around to face him.

“Shit.” Roman knew he upset her, expected as such. He just didn’t know how much he upset her, because the water droplets swimming down her face, trickling from her bangs can’t hide the fact that she’s clearly crying. 

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he’s immediately apologizing, kissing her forehead, eyes shutting. “Please don’t cry.” Because she’s the only person on this earth that he actually cares about upsetting. It’s the last thing he ever wants to do.

The sound of her sniffling is a punch to his gut, but not as painful as what fills him hearing her soft, quiet, desperate response. “Please don’t send me away.” He looks down, meeting her teary, scared eyes. She shakes her head. “I can’t—I can’t do this without you.”

Sentiments she’s expressed before, especially after her nightmare a few weeks back, but something she obviously feels the need to reiterate. 

“I’ll—I’ll do whatever you want me to do, but—but not that.” She swallows, her voice shifting into something more determined, fierce almost. “I am with you. Always. No matter what.” She moves her hands up to his face, whispering, “to the end, Ro.” Head tilted, lips pressed together, she asks in a quiet voice. “Okay?”

Roman nods. He won’t risk further upsetting her. She can’t afford it. Not…not in her condition. 

He leans down to kiss her before reaching for the wash cloth laid across the shelf and motioning for her to turn around so he can wash her. An act of love and affection that she reciprocates for him before they both find their way back to bed, Solana sleeping peacefully atop him.

But, it’s short lived sleep for Roman who eventually escapes the sanctuary of their bed and trades it for the seat outside on their balcony.

Something....something is off.

He can't put his hand on on it, but he feels it. The situation with Jey, Rikishi, and Solo could be it, probably is a large part of it, why Roman can't shake this uneasy feeling.

It could be Cosa Nostra related, because things have been quiet on that end. Perhaps too quiet. But, Dwayne and Matteo continue to reiterate that the few men they trust back in Italy continue to keep them in the loop, and nothing has raised alarm.

Matteo has even been ever transparent regarding the reports he sends back to the Administration regarding Roman's activity. All truthful. Nothing damning.

But, all of that is what makes it so difficult for the Tribal Chief, because a tangible issue is a solvable issue. An invisible one is nothing but a possibility that may be nothing.

Or may be something.

And Roman knows he would have to have something to justify sending Solana away. She would need a clear answer, an explanation as to why he's doing the very thing she begged him not to do. And telling her it's because he has a hunch that something is off simply won't cut it.

Roman sits there for a good half hour, thinking, overthinking, and something beyond that even. He goes over it all, from the moment he first met his wife to the moment just a few hours ago where he agreed to her request. He evaluates it all, not from Roman, the man in love with his wife, but from The Tribal Chief, the protector.

The warrior and fighter who recognizes the one and ultimate goal in this situation. 

Protection.

Because he lost his family once before.

He won’t lose them again. 

Eventually, Roman walks back into the room. He moves over to the side of the bed where Solana is on her side, sleeping peacefully, completely oblivious to the decision her husband has come to. 

He crouches down beside her, watching her, studying her face before his attention drifts downward. To her stomach.

Wordlessly, he reaches a hand to place it atop the thin sheet, settling it atop her belly, those damn feelings intensifying all over again.

“I don’t know a lot about any of this.” Something he’s gradually coming to grips with with every day that passes where he learns something new about the two tiny human beings growing inside of his wife. Roma’s eyes fill with something that can only be likened to dedication. “But….one thing I do know how to do is how to keep you safe.” His voice is low, whispered, drenched with vulnerability that would never leave the sanctuary of this space. “And, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you and her safe.” His eyes fill with a sense of dread, regret, and immense determination. “Even if she ends up hating me for it.”

[melancholicstation]

YOU TASTE LIKE THE FOURTH OF JULY! - jack schlossberg raya one-shot date.

summary: you join raya as a half-joke but what you find on there—or should you say who you find on there is anything but a laughing matter: none other than jack schlossberg himself.

warnings: drinking, light petting and kisses, innocent touches, yearning desperate man alert...

words: 1,778

Currently, it was an unassuming 4:30pm in the city that never sleeps and what were you doing with your precious time this afternoon? writing emails you'd been procrastinating? calling your grandma who you haven't spoken to in weeks? no, of course not. You were doom-scrolling TikTok for the past few hours.

However the doom-scroll wasn't for nothing, through it you'd identified a common thread running throughout your algorithm: videos upon videos of various young woman who'd taken a break from shilling their amazon shop links to share niche internet personalities—and on the rare occasion actual b-tier celebrity men dating profiles through shaky screen-caps on a dating app called 'Raya'.

According to Google.com 'Raya' was "a private, membership based community for people all over the world to connect and collaborate." Private membership you thought, how overly and unbelievably pretentious. However, and if anyone asked you would deny, you weren't completely turned off by a tinge of pomp and circumstance, in small batches at least.

The first couple videos you scrolled mindlessly, fast forwarding through the video to see if any of your favourite a24 actors had been making the rounds on the dating app: no takers yet.

That was until you saw him. At around the 24 second mark of the video you saw the dating profile of the only grandson of JFK, and the full-time internet heartthrob littering the pages of teenage girls Pinterest accounts—Jack Schlossberg. Now that stopped you in your tracks.

Not many men could get you to perform such a silly act as to pay $24.99 a month for a fucking dating app but alas here you were punching in the details of your black card and hitting purchase. You rationalised this undeniably delusional act by telling yourself that you'd see what all the fuss was about for a month and promptly revoke your subscription once the month was over. Currently, the date was the 1st of September, perfect. By 30th you'd definitely be bored by the app, as you were with all the other apps you've tried before, and it would be forgotten about as a frivolous but harmless expense of $24.99.

After setting up your profile you'd chosen a mix of photos: one sporty photo you'd taken at Wimbledon which does completely misrepresent your true nature of detesting all things involved in tennis—bar the outfits, a photo of you on your ex-boyfriend's motorcycle but potential swipers on your profile didn't need to know that specific detail, and a couple photos of you at a gala you attended as a plus one with a greek prince. Snobby, but as they say if the shoe fits walk in it.

Now sure, was it a carbon copy of your bumble profile... Yes but was that a crime? The prompts were as stupid as the membership price tag so you treated them as such.

Like a prompt that read "I disagree when people say that I'm..."

To which you replied, "the problem."

And another prompt that read "Favourite self-care ritual"

To which you replied, "praying on my cousins downfall"

Snarky replies that most definitely did not come off the best to possible dating prospects but hey you didn't quite care—mostly because you weren't thinking that you'd be earnestly engaging in a real romantic sense with anyone you'd find. You were simply doing this for scientific research purpose, and maybe to make fun of mens profiles over two or three dirty martini's at Harry Cipriani with a few of your girlfriends.

After completing your profile and after swiping through a few profiles recommended to you—and finding no luck with any of the men you saw so far you'd effectively abandoned the app for a couple of hours. That was until it so rudely interrupted your evening with a notification.

You'd went on with your day with relative peace and managed to intercept your part-time career of couch-rotting watching the first season of girls on HBO to go down to your local grocer on Canal St. Opting to get yourself an iced expresso latte with raw stevia and pumpkin milk, with a with a slice of buckwheat cake as an impromptu choice-anxiety driven decision.

Fumbling inside your bag for the keys to your apartment your phone starts to buzz, not an abnormal appearances as your mother has a penchant for incessant checkups now that you're living on your own for the first time, but it doesn't end with 1 or 2 buzzers. It keeps going for around 4 buzzers. Frustrated, you finally get into your apartment shuffling off your jacket and setting aside the fresh coffee, and baked good and angrily swipe up on your phone ready to be annoyed at whatever notification you find.

But instead you're absolutely and irrevocably gobsmacked at what you find:

"You've matched with Jack Schlossberg, 31. Click here to start a conversation"

You click on the notification, and are surprised to see a message has already been sent...

"We already have something in common! I too love plotting the downfall of my cousin as well and think i'm never the problem."

"2 for 2 is a good start" you reply back trying to maintain a normal level of interest mixed with a cool detachment needed to move through dating app conversations.

"We could find a couple more similarities over drinks tonight, if you're free?"

Very forward of him which you definitely didn't expect coming from a man with the internet persona he'd created over the last year. Admittedly you hadn't followed him or shown much interest past nodding emphatically when shown a post of him being hailed as the "internet's baby girl" by one of your girlfriends, but something about his assertiveness endeared him to you.

And before you knew it you were accepting his invitation of drinks at Socialista at 7pm.

Fast forward a couple hours, and you were fixing your lipstick in the back of the Uber before it unceremoniously dropped you off outside the cocktail lounge: the exterior of the bar painted an unassuming shade of charcoal paint.

Pushing open the door to the lounge you're met with the sweet yet severely overrated aromas of baccarat rouge 540 and santal 33. Dressed in a simple skirt and top set with a pair of strappy sandals in black you scan the refined interior of the lounge: green walls, crushed red velvet furnishings, and aged brass fixtures as far as the eye can see, but no sight of Jack yet. You find a two seater booth and sit down calling over a waiter, dressed so elegantly you might just assume it's Thom Browne and considering that its Socialista it very might well be.

You decide on a bourbon old fashioned and as you take your first sip your eyes fixate on the man entering the lounge. And it's none other than Jack himself wearing a long sleeve sable button-up, black slacks, and a nylon sneaker with wool socks.

The first couple of minutes were the typical awkward dance of a first date but after just a short 30 minutes you guys started to get hit a stride and happen to have very good chemistry—defying the common and frequent horror stories experienced on first dates. You guys bond over difficult familial relationship, though you can't imagine having it all play out on the public stage.

As the hour progresses from 7pm to 8 and from 8 to 9 you get cosier and cosier, and by 9:21 your knees rest on each others while you intently listen to his ramblings on why he much prefers cocktail lounges to restaurants,

"-And you end up having to wait for some guy-and then tell him what you want to eat. I mean it's a draconian concept!"

He says it with such magnetism and charisma that you'd think he was talking about something evoking passion, and not the flawed system of the restaurant industry, but you gather that's what draws him to people—that's what, against your better judgement, draws him to you.

You stay for another hour, but you both get up to leave at the chagrin of the staff who looked increasingly more agitated as the minutes ticked by, grateful that you guys took the hint to leave the lounge. Once you do, you both step out on the street.

The end of the date was, by far, the most awkward part of the date for you, it has always been this dance around skirting around a conversation in which you try to assert if the other wants to continue the night, or never wants to see you again in their life.

I couldn't really tell which side Jack was sitting on, despite our conversations and all around great date. However that was made clear to me seconds later

"Tell me if I'm a weirdo and I'll drop it immediately—you'll never have to see me again, but is it okay if I kiss you?"

Despite the touches on the arm and the innocent, light knee rubbing that occurred during the date you found yourself taken back at the earnest desire he presented to you in just that sentence alone. To his comment you emphatically nod with an embarrassingly enthusiastic "Yes", feeling the culmination of the tension and since desire that had steeped and brewed over the course of the night.

The kiss was, as cheesy, 90s erotica as it may sound, was electric and all-consuming. You swore you got so in the moment that you had to remind yourself to take breaths in between—and by the sound of Jack's breathing he might've had to as well.

You both stop after a while, suddenly aware of the possible bystanders who could be looking on, but you both maintain sharp eye contact with each other. Similarly, he continues to hold your forearm—lightly stroking it between his fingers with a quiet intimacy you hadn't quite ever experienced with a man you've known for less than 12 hours.

Without your knowledge you let out a small yawn, to which Jack loudly chuckles under his breath,

"I really bore you out that bad, huh?"

Embarrassed you bow your head, focusing on the graffitied pavement,

"Not at all—I just have a raging caffeine addiction and it's about the time i'd normally have a fix"

"Well not to sound presumptuous-"

"You definitely will, but I'm liking you so i'll allow you to go on anyway."

"I do have a pretty great coffee machine in my apartment if I do say so myself?" To which he proposes the undercover invitation as more of a question and less of a demand which you subtly appreciate.

"Lead the way"

taglist: @carly-rae-jean @h-l-vlovesvintage @inocennture @monturi @hisamericanmuse @passhun4w-blog @vile-harlot @bluelancergirl @jackiesgirl @fortheloveofjos @itgirlvirgo @starsprangledgirl @malkavared @remotewatch @salvatoresablondie @kimcrystal123 @vampyiricris @scaredlamb @dulcegal @strryhaze @chiliscrazylife @joansiesbeloved @beloved-angel

note: for this universe forget raya has a waiting list… i forgot that while writing this

[lightningmcqueen-waferbox]

For all the people upset and angry about the Stroll and Ricciardo (and Piastri) incident, that is completely understandable, your favourites race was ruined by another driver and you feel frustrated. However this does not give you leave to hate Stroll for what is by all accounts a racing incident and was almost completely unavoidable given the circumstances. The incident you see is not occurring due to malicious intent or a lack of skill or concentration, it is simply an unfortunate consequence of compounding factors that could not be escaped.

My reasons for saying this, and a couple of things I think people should note are below the break.

First, when watching the replay one thing is immediately obvious, because of the speed at which the collision occurred, you can make a pretty good estimate of when contact first initiated. From there you can then tell that prior to contact, the nose of Ricciardo was already underneath piastri. This lokely means that contact had already occurred, if not significant, and may have still proceeded further without any outside influence (which could have meant damage to Piastri was inevitable, or at least Riccardo's front wing). As such, it is unfair to say that Stroll caused that particular collision completely (there is definite contribution but not entirely on him, Riccardo is just as at fault in this instance).

Second, there was genuinely no where else for him to go. If he goes to the outside to avoid a collision, he's onto the curb and grass, potentially causing a loss of control and a collision anyway. If he goes to the inside of the track, there is potential then gor a lock up in which case he goes straight on and t-bones another driver, thus another collision.

Now on to the cause of the rear ending, it takes a bit more than looking at just the two cars (03 & 18) to determine what the cause may have been. As an example, a popular take I've seen so far includes people saying "it was at a hairpin, he should have known cars are going slow and slowed down accordingly". This doesn't necessarily make sense. If this happened at the first lap of the safety car, then the idea has merit. However, this happened at the end of the safety car period, with no incident occuring earlier thus implying that such an incident is isolated and may have a bit more to it than what it appears to be.

Also note that these cars DO NOT have break lights, thus comparing it to a road car doesn't work either.

For what actually occurred, it's a bit if a chain reaction unfortunately resulting in a collision at the end. First, Perez is further ahead of Sainz than what Sainz is comfortable with going into a restart, so Sainz accelerates to close it. This then prompts Alonso to follow suit, then Russell, then Piastri, Ricciardo, and Stroll when the widening gap is noticed. However, because humans can only react so fast, the marginal difference between the car ahead accelerating to the following car accelerating compounds gradually, and for drivers this may only be 0.2 of a second, but over 5 drivers that is almost a full second delay.

As Sainz approaches the corner, he breaks, which then prompts Alonso to break, however he may have been going slightly faster than the tires could handle so as not to get dropped upon the restart, and therefore locks up.

As such, Russell must break as quickly as possible to avoid Alonso, who has momentarily lost control. Because he is trying to avoid a collision with Alonso ahead, he may also break a bit heavier than he usually would into this corner.

This then pushes Piastri to hit the brakes, again harder than usual, to avoid Russell, who's is attempting to avoid Alonso.

Now we get to Ricciardo. Because of the compounding reaction times of the drivers ahead and himself, it is possible that Ricciardo was starting to accelerate as Alonso started locking up, thus giving him a much smaller window to effectively brake to avoid Piastri (as noted above, he did not entirely avoid this outcome prior to contact with Stroll).

Here is where that compounding reaction time effect really comes into play. Lance Stroll is fifth in the line behind Sainz. If all drivers are given a reaction time of 0.2, then his reaction to Sainz accelerating is 1 second, 0.8 to Alonso. Given a one second difference between Sainz accelerating and braking, then by the time Stroll starts to accelerate, Sainz is starting to brake. Another reminded here that the driver has a very limited view of what is happening ahead, so for Stroll he can see Ricciardo and Sainz, and that's about it. If he is watching the driver furthest ahead (Sainz), who is braking relatively normally, then there is jo reason to assume that the other drivers are not, especially as he cannot see them, therefore doesn't know Alonso has locked up and that Russell and Piastri are braking more than usual into this corner.

Quick reminder here that the compounding reaction times of the drivers meant that Ricciardo was late on the brakes and was likely going to rear end Piastri regardless of Stroll behind (and was infact underneath Piadtri at the time of contact anyway). As such, by the time Stroll has started accelerating, others are already heavy on the brakes, which means that regardless of how hard the brakes are hit there is not enough time for him to decelerate to a speed which may have prevented a crash with Ricciardo.

Seen below is a very quickly (and badly) drawn diagram of what I am talking about. The car at the front starts to accelerate, so all the cars accelerate. By the time the car at the back starts accelerating, the cars at the front are starting to brake. By the time the cars at the back have started reaching speed the cars infront of them are rapidly decelerating, leaving little time for the cars at the back to also decelerate. As such the cars at the back end up too close and hit the rear of the car infront. The further back in the line you are, the worse the effect.

Could it have been possible for the to have been less damage? Yes, however only if it were at a different spot on the track where more visibility is afforded for the cars behind. It is important to remember that as far as Stroll can possibly be aware everyone ahead of him is going into this corner as expected and going to be braking accordingly. As such he does not have time to fully slow down with the limited space afforded by all cars ahead, given they are slowing much faster than usual. Given the part of the track these cars where on and the circumstances leading up to the collision however, means that I don not think there is anyway this could have been avoided, especially given how close they all were to each other.

Do I think the penalty was deserved? Maybe. On one hand Stroll did end Riccardo's race, and potentially cause further damage to Piastri. On the other, the incident was completely unavoidable and should be considered as such. A racing incident and nothing more.

Whether or not you disagree with me does not matter, and you are entitled your beliefs and opinions. However what you cannot do is spread unnecessary hate for a driver in a sport where these things happen. Yes you are allowed to be upset and angry about what has happened, but I guarantee that every single driver on the grid has made a stupid mistake that has ruined another's race at some point. This is why penalties exist, to punish people that have done something to detract from the performance of another driver or team in an unfair and detrimental way whether big or small. It does not give you leave to call for a driver to lose their seat and super licence for one incident, and spew vitriol in a space where the driver you are targeting is almost guaranteed not to see it. You are preaching to the masses, and making anyone that may be a fan of Stroll unwelcome and uncomfortable in almost all spaces.

[joaniejustwokeup]

Decided to make this prompt it’s own post- originally based off @noir-renard’s tags on this photo post:

I had an idea for where it could go…

Jason uses Bruce’s account to bid on the car.

Danny uses Vlad’s account to bid on it.

They drive up the price ridiculously high.

Danny wants the car to go on a summer road trip/ college tour with Sam and Tucker.

Jason wants to use it to pick up his brothers from work and school to embarrass them. He’s sure he can convince Alfred to let him be the designated chauffeur for a bit.

Danny just barely places the winning bid in time.

When he gets the car he tricks it out with a bunch of anti-theft and especially anti-ghost security measures. No way he’s letting Johnny or Technus or some other random ghost steal it from him, this car is his. He also adds special storage for ectoplasm and ecto-dejecto, since they’ll be on the road for a bit, but also in case there’s an emergency and they need to get out of town fast. And then they’re off on their summer adventure!

They stop in Gotham to check out Gotham University, and because Sam love the aesthetic and Tucker loves Wayne Tech, leaving their car in a lot frequented by tourists.

While he’s out on patrol Jason suddenly sees THE FUCKING CAR!!! Holy shit it must be destiny. Fuck it, Red Hood is stealing a car today because dammit this was supposed to be his janky-ass dead guy car. He’s gonna reclaim his undead honor and this shitty car if it’s the last thing he does. Only one problem. The car immediately zaps him, knocks him out, and soups him with the automatic thermos the second he touches it (what’s this? A halfa Jason Todd au??? Oh dear!).

Danny, Sam, and Tucker return none the wiser, having had a great day touring the city and the university’s campus. But soon they’re back on the road, having a couple more weeks of travel and touring campuses planned. They finally return to Amity Park, and it’s only then that Danny realizes the car had captured some random ghost while they were on the road. At least it looked like the car had fed them from the ectoplasm storage while they travelled, so they should be healed of any souping-related injuries.

Danny decides to release them in his royal keep in the Infinite Realms (AND a ghost king Danny au? wow who would’ve thought), so that he can have Wulf on hand to portal the ghost back to their haunt if they mean no harm, or contain them in the Ghost Zone if they turn out to be violent.

Jason is spewed out of that freaky thermos into a throne room of black marble, surrounded by glowing, translucent beings. Everything has a Lazarus-green glow, and something deep in his chest seems to be humming in recognition, like a tuning fork resonating with an entire orchestra (is that how tuning forks work? Jason doesn’t fucking know).

Above him floats a teenager in a black and white jumpsuit accented with pieces of medieval armor and a cloak lined with swirling stars and nebulae. Atop his snow white hair sits an obsidian crown bathed in green flames, the same bright Lazarus green as the boy’s eyes. He’s holding the thermos almost sheepishly, looking at Jason in shocked amazement.

“Holy fucking shit- I SOUPED RED HOOD??? RED HOOD’S A GHOST?!?!?”

Meanwhile, the Batfamily has been frantically looking for Red Hood for weeks now. No one knows where he’s gone- his tracker showed him traveling from state to state seemingly at random, before stopping and disappearing entirely. His last tracked location was in a small midwestern town called Amity Park.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling someone that roleplays are a two-way street and refusing to re-engage with them?

Occasionally, if I'm in the mood to write but I don't really know what, I'll browse ship tags on Omegle. Its become synonymous for roleplays, and I've found its (typically) pretty fun.

As with every social thing, there's the odd... Less than pleasant experience. Last night was one such experience. I connected to someone on a ship tag, they sent a prompt, and it was actually a pretty interesting one, so I responded.

It was an AU prompt, but I generally kept my characterisation as close to the character's canon as I could, while still matching it to roughly what someone's personality in that profession and location would be.

(E.g; if the character was a proper old-country style cowboy, or a socially awkward secretary, ect.)

It became very clear, very fast, that the other person had very, very specific ideas about the roleplay, what happens, what my character was supposed to say/do, ect. To the point where (as I later told them) they should've just written fanfic so they had complete control.

Near enough every time I responded, they'd "correct" it or argue against it both in character and in brackets as themselves. For example if I noted something about the background or story of my character, theirs would immediately say "no that's not what happened" or they'd say [hey actually can you change that, it doesn't fit/I don't like it/its not what I envisioned].

After about fifteen minutes of this I got incredibly vexed and decided I was done. I don't mind a roleplay having certain goals/main points/guidelines, but they were literally trying to control every tiny aspect of what I did. So I sent them this:

[I'm sorry, the RP sounded interesting in the prompt you sent, but its rapidly becoming clear you don't actually want a roleplay, you want to be the sole one dictating everything that happens. Honestly I think its best you turn this idea into a fanfic and not a roleplay. It kills off any enjoyment of the roleplay when I have you contradicting every tiny detail I include or dictating what I'm allowed to do or say. I'm not going to sit there waiting for you to approve of everything I intend to say. Thank you for your time, but good night.]

I disconnected, and decided I'd spend another fifteen minutes browsing the tag before I did something else. Well apparently, the other person decided they were going to spend fifteen minutes stalking the tag trying to find me again, spamming every connection with messages ranging from extreme insults and threats to demands I 'speak up again, bitch, I wanna talk' and so forth. After connecting to them for the tenth time, I sent:

[I'm not going to re-engage with you. I said what I did, and frankly, it was a valid statement. If you can't handle the fact that roleplaying means a 50/50 creative allowance with someone else, and that you can't micro-manage or bulldoze every single detail, then you shouldn't roleplay. Frankly, knowing how vile you can be from simple criticism, I'm glad I disconnected. Take a breather and re-evaluate yourself. I'd be embarrassed.]

Well. This morning I logged onto Tumblr and after some browsing, I actually came across them again. Here. By means of a post where they included screenshots of everything and are even going so far as threatening to stalk Tumblr and AO3 to 'match up the writing' so they can find me and presumably say their piece or whatever.

I talked to a friend about it, and surprisingly, they think I'm an asshole. Not for what I said in the first place, but for not re-approaching the other person (through DMs) so they'll stop filling the ship's tag with negative stuff. (They've made 3 posts about it all so far.)

I don't want to do that because it means opening up my private social media to this obviously unhinged individual. I know I can expect to be spammed, sent hate mail, have them try to track down my other socials, ect. I could make an alt account for it, but honestly that's effort I don't see the point in making. If they can't let this go, its not my problem.

AITA? Should I make an alt account just to let them get it out of their system? I don't know how to proceed with this.

What are these acronyms?

[bubble-love]

My 75 Hard Challenge ✨

I decided that I’m going to challenge myself to do the 75 hard challenge (because I need some structure in my life). I’m hopefully going to track my progress here to keep myself accountable.

I’m going to adjust the rules slightly to fit with my lifestyle and the specific things I want to work on, but the challenge splits itself up into five categories:

1. Diet

2. Physical health

3. Water

4. Reading

5. Progress tracking

Here’s how I’m going to implement these prompts into my challenge:

1. Stop eating after five.

I’ve heard that intermittent fasting can help with sleep and digestion, so I’m going to try it for this challenge to see if anything changes.

2. Work out/walk every day

This is something I technically already do, but I might try to go out and work out at the gym at least once a week to spice things up a bit and get out of the house.

3. Drink at least 20oz of water a day.

I do not drink enough water (so little that it’s kind of a problem) so I’m making it a priority for the next 75 days.

4. Read every day

I’m going to read every day by getting into my Bible every morning and starting my day with God’s word, as well as listening to an audiobook whenever I go on a walk instead of listening to music (I want to add to my finished book list so bad).

5. Progress tracking

I’m going to track my progress in my personal journal and then try to update on here once a week.

💕💕💕💕

This feels like it’s going to be really hard, but isn’t that the point?? I hope I can keep myself accountable and see some changes in my life. Wish me luck!

[blossomajesty-archive]

What to do what to do

Tldr; before I become consumed by the Monhun brainworms again come Wilds I want to move operations to a proper sideblog because:

1) tumblr never implemented account switching and it’s mad annoying to log in and out

2) I'm not allowed to make my real account an admin of this blog and operate that way bc this is a “main” blog. Lame.

Otherwise, just tossing up the question of if I should delete this blog (bc I dislike having an unused account) or keep it up as some sort of archive, since I know people hate when somewhat popular blogs go deactivated. Original post got long so under the cut it goes;

It's been awhile as you can see, but tbh I haven't been "present" much on social media in general. I closed out my last semester of college (yay) so it's been rough for the better part of the past year as I went through the torture gauntlet that is exams and graduation, and another internship. Anyhow this blog is 5 years old woagh, but I haven't actually posted anything related to the story or characters introduced here in like, 3 years.

For this blog in particular, a decently-sized conundrum is that it's not a true sideblog but a separate account, and since Tunglr never made it easy to switch between accounts, its really annoying to log in and out so much (the rest of my blogs are attached to my main account now). Aside that, i've had enough of Wilds' marketing (i'm already sold and don't need to see more tbh) so I haven't been engaging a ton with monhun news and posts recently. In the meantime I was thinking of just making a MH sideblog of the same name for its original purpose of a place to spill my dumb thoughts/screenshots/ocs/whatever (one that's not so out of reach).

The question is what to do with this one; I tend to keep as few accounts as possible so I have no issue deleting it, but i'm also not normal when it comes to art and sure some would be opposed to this blog vanishing. I could compromise and make this one one of those "-archive" blogs for now if that's the case? (For more clarity I never abandon my fanfic stories/ocs if you're thinking you'll never see Surah and the like again. I tend to rotate between a couple casts of characters as my vidyagame interest shifts, bc making fanart and stories for the same series forever is a fast track to boredom and burnout. That also means No, you still can’t repost the art here or use the characters, those are still mine).

One last thing I guess is that the old "ask-a-monster" blog community/phenomenon actually went extinct a long time ago, this blog was set up the way it is for nostalgia mostly. I was planning on making note of all my unanswered asks here for prompts/inspo, but I don't see myself leaning as heavily into in-character asks ever again (with MH characters and anyone else).. It's been fun for character-writing purposes but as the fate of all the ask-blogs tells, building around it is a lot of work and always tends to fall off after a couple years. Heck, it wasn't even supposed to have so many ask posts in the first place (but don't get me wrong, it was still fun and I learned quite a bit). I’ll probably get around to posting the actual writing I’ve done that fills in some of the story gaps, but elsewhere (or in whatever new side location) as I’d rather put the blog to rest as-is than try to revive/reboot it when I'm not too keen on jumping back and forth.

No idea how many people are actually gonna read all this so I'll add this old Surah wip as compensation

[the-s1lly-corner]

ATTENTION CREEPYPASTA FANS/REGARDING THE 1K CELEBRATION ONE SHOT!

The votes are in, and creepypasta has won the vote for what I will write to celebrate hitting 1k followers on this blog! As well as this, Eyeless Jack won the majority vote! Originally, when I made the first poll to determine the fandom, I was going to come up with my own plot... However I fell in love with the idea of you guys helping me build a fic together.. And to keep up with that theme, I'm going to allow you guys to send in prompts; I will likely either host a raffle or a final vote, then finally! I will start writing! Below will be the rules and requirements in order to submit anything, and I urge you all to read this carefully so your idea can be added into the mix! More info will be under the cut!

As said, Eyeless Jack has been selected for the one shot, a win for Eyeless Jack fans! While prompts don't need to be centered around things that are unique to Jack, you're more than welcome to follow along his traits!

So How Do We Submit A Prompt?

I feel that it will be easier for me to keep track of prompts through the inbox, just as my other requests. However this has the opportunity to get messy and confusing fast. So if you're sending in a suggestion for the one shot, I ask that you very clearly specify so! Otherwise I won't be able to know and I will treat it as I would any normal request. So I ask that you please put somewhere in your suggestion that this it is for the fic!

What Is Allowed To Be Sent In?

The same general rules of this blog still apply! I will accept anything that isn't NSFW, Abvse, or kink adjacent! You CAN send in something romantic, platonic, fluff, angst, ect! Really if you want a deeper look into what is and isn't allowed I recommend looking into my pinned post!

What Can We Expect From The Fic?

The plot obviously, is still undecided. However, the fic is most likely going to be an Eyeless Jack x Reader one shot! As per usual for this blog, the reader will be GN, so you can easily put yourself or your oc in your shoe! I don't have a set length in mind for the fic, as my writing tends to vary, but I do intend on it being decent length! I don't want to put a goal word count in fear of intimidating myself, but I do intend to aim for over 1.5k! The fic will be posted here, and will get it's own unique tag so it can more easily found!

Why The Long Wait?

I am hosting each segment of this process for a week before moving onto the next step. This is because Tumblr only has two options for poll lengths and the one week time frame just stuck. One week to determine fandom, one week to pick a character, and this time is going to be no different! As well as the final piece of this; taking into account it's going to take me a few days to write the fic and (hopefully) revise it... writing is hard, but I also want everyone to have more than enough time to put their votes/ideas into this, as it's a celebration of this blog and your guys' support!

Will there be future fics?

I'm unsure, I would hope so! This fic is of course for a milestone but I do hope to one day write at least one fic per creepypasta character that I do write for

The poll below is irrelevant to the post, and serves more so as a in post timer to remind me to take the next step of this little event, time blindness is very real and very..... blugh

tagging this with my usual characters/as if it were a group post to help get this out there so those who want to participate can

[tickle-bugs]

closed prompts a smidge early on account of me being sleepy, but i received quite a nice little pile! here's the offerings coming soon to a dashboard near you:

DC: new relationship superbat where Clark introduces Lois to Bruce so his favorite people can get comfy with one another. She tickles Clark in front of his Super Cool boyfriend and both of them are incapable of being normal about it. (lee!Clark)

DC: superwonderbat + asking for it trope. Bruce is terrible at saying what he wants. Clark and Diana learn to speak his language. (lee!Bruce)

Wicked: Glinda is a terribly distracting study buddy. Elphaba knows just the thing to motivate her to stay on track. (lee!Glinda)

Supernatural: Cas contends with the scariest force heaven has to offer: his older brother. Dean chooses to be part of the problem. (brief lee!Dean, lee!Cas)

ATSV: Miles, Pav, and Gwen never argue that Hobie isn't punk. That'd be silly. Instead they argue that he's soft and likes them juuuuust a little. Just enough to compromise his image. (lee!Hobie)

ATSV: Peter tries to teach Miles to get better use out of his webs. Miles is a very fast learner and a little shit. (lee!Peter)

New Girl: A particularly handsy game of True American reveals something interesting about Jess. Nick is 100% normal and well adjusted about it. (lee!Jess)

Top Gun: Rooster takes advantage of the F-18 seatbelts to finally put Hangman in his place. (lee!Hangman)

LOK: Korra and Mako share a moment early in their relationship. Mako discovers how soft he is with her. Korra discovers he's ticklish. (lee!Mako)

Kingsman: Eggsy's mouth and his stubbornness get him into trouble at Statesman HQ. Whiskey and Tequila decide to show him how they handle mouthy recruits with too much pride. (lee everyone lol)

MAWS: Clark gets used to using his powers to help him out when people aren't looking, but sharing an office with his two best friends takes that option off the table. Lois finds it hilarious that this mountain of a man refuses to get a stepladder for a shelf he can't reach. (lee!Clark)

Blue Exorcist: Rin's powers ruin some of his plans and he struggles to take it well. Bon takes this personally. (lee!Rin)

[koolades-world]

hi, super unrelated to obey me BUTTTT i was wondering how you handle your request inbox? is that what it’s called? is it ask inbox? nvm you get my point… i think? idk i just imagine it’s very stressful, like do you chose a prompt that interests you first or do you go by the oldest first.

i like to think about how fun it would be to write stuff and posts about my interests — i even think it’d be fun to get requests. however, i also recognize that i don’t think i could handle it. as much as i’d want to write as a hobby, some part of me knows the moment i start getting requests, i will start viewing it more as a job. i bet there are asks that also bring motivation or inspiration but i’m not 100% sure.

i was just curious if you would be willing to give some insight or your personal experience. totally fine if you don’t want to or don’t know how to respond to this. thank you!

hello!! this is different from the stuff i usually get but I'm super happy to answer your questions and try to help out :)

not really sure what it's called either now that i think about it. i think i just call it my inbox?? idk haha. i rarely talk about my tumblr with anyone and actually don't even mention i write just to have to avoid explaining what exactly i write is to someone who doesn't know. the only two people who know are two of my best friends <333 love you guys since i know you might see this <3 although i will say mentioning that youre a tumblr writer always seems to kill the convo haha

usually, i work in the order i get them! right now, i've just made it into the beginning of feburary since i just have so many and i don't want people to feel like picking favorite because ultimately, anons are people who enjoyed my content enough to make a requests and i want to see that through, to let them feel that excitement that someone whos work they liked actually wrote their idea! some requests can be kinda hard to do sometimes, so i usually need more time to do those so i have time to dwell on the idea. but sometimes they just click and i have it done in less than twenty minutes! sometimes i do occasionally fast track a request if i'm very inspired or if it really speaks to me!

the amount of requests can get a little overwhelming at times, but it's so heartwarming to know that many people like the content i make. right now i have 77 unwritten i think? one day i'll make it through all of them but i don't think ill ever get back to 0 /pos

in order to continue writing it has to be fun for you!! it for sure should not feel like a job. i used to write back in 2020 because of all the extra time i had on my hands, and i lost the time to keep up, so in 2023, i migrated here to try and pick it up again. i'm a stem major (bio my beloved <3) and it's my passion but it leaves little room to be creative, so this is my outlet! i feel like it's a good way to express yourself if you couldn't otherwise. i was so excited when i got my first request! i still remember it clearly just because of how excited i was. it's fulfilling to make people happy with something as simple as words that came from my silly little brain

honestly i blew up much faster than i ever thought i would so i still feel like im all too new at this tumblr blog thing. i still learn new things about tumblr all the time, such as custom themes on desktop haha. i've had this account and have been writing since march of last year but i didn't really start to pick up steam until january of this year because i started posting daily to try and get through all my waiting requests just to like, explode probably because of the consistent posting, so if you are still interested in writing, for sure take it slow! if it's just for fun, don't worry and actually try not to be too consistent. if you want to grow quickly, consistency is key no matter what schedule you decide on.

if i get rude requests, which has only happened a few times now, i just don't do them because i don't want to reward that kind of behavior, even if the idea is magnificent. for sure lay out rules if you do plan to go ahead with writing. be firm with them! im not great at that lol. also remember that you aren't obligated to at all! you are the one choosing to be here and you only have to do the ones you want, or none if you choose not to take requests. i like them because it gives me ideas i wouldnt have before because it can be kinda hard to come up with original ideas at the pace i would need them for my daily post. but, the pace i move at is very fast and it even scares me sometimes, so that wouldn't be too much of a problem for you if you chose to write

hope this was helpful and let me know if you need anything else. always happy to help <3

[kintsugi-sheep]

GPT’s King Crimson

SPOILERS: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

There’s a stand—a sort of psychic supernatural ability—in JJBA: Vento Aureo called King Crimson. It’s primary and most distinctive ability is to remove fragments of time, to skip ahead to the end of a process. If you have to climb a staircase, you can activate King Crimson from the bottom and you’ll be at the top a second later. It’s a power that’s all about the results.

This isn’t the first time I’ve written an article in my miniscule corner of a site that’s not my own. It’s one of the most uncomfortable parts about what I hope to make my career. But, it’s necessary. I’ve always known it was necessary, but I could never bring myself to stick with it. I’d bail. The results never came fast enough.

I’ve spent years studying and learning how to be a better writer. How to build better stories and tell them in more entertaining ways. I’ve looked into how to build a platform. I tried being a critic and abandoned it because the ability to observe something doesn’t translate into writing skill. I’ve joined and abandoned writing groups because of the writers’ overwhelming selfishness, a predisposition to sell to readers before entertaining them, a devotion to one’s own education and opinion as doctrine, and other reasons. I’d try to go where the readers actually are, posting writing prompts on Reddit for instance, and get drowned out immediately.

And with every setback I’d drop it all. I’d focus on my day job, doing a bit of studying over here and a bit of worldbuilding over there. I’d cringe at my work and close my accounts. Or I’d disappear for months on end only to come back and give it another shot.

And now A.I. is ramping up.

As it stands, they don’t have the level of craft necessary to supplant artists. The greatest danger comes from how they’ll swell the midlist. Anyone who reads regularly knows how it feels to be disappointed by what you’d hoped would be a good book. The onset of A.I. will only ramp up that frequency. It’ll be harder than it’s ever been to get one’s foot in the door of the creative world as an indie author.

I only have myself to thank for my complacency.

So much wasted time. Ego, perfectionism, resistance, whatever you want to call it, I just couldn’t summon what was necessary to do what it takes. I couldn’t find the strength to believe in myself or my skills. My track record showed me that I didn’t have it. That I’d never be perfect.

But, telling stories is the only thing I truly want as a career. There’s the Dionysian satisfaction of writing a journal entry, getting your thoughts and feelings pouring our freely from the tap onto the page. There’s the Apollonian satisfaction that comes with constructing an outline, strengthening the consistency in a world, or focusing for hours on end while you study the hard skills of writing. Then there’s storytelling, where it all comes together in an ouroboros of pleasure.

The world doesn’t need my stories. I just need to tell them.

Hayao Miyazaki was watching footage of an A.I. in early development. The presenting team said they would hope it develops the skill of a human artist. Miyazaki would later say, “I feel like we’re living in the end times. People are losing the ability to believe in themselves.” Everything you interact with is there because someone was able to make it exist. And that someone could’ve been anybody, could’ve been you.

The bestselling author, the renowned artist, the beloved chef.

But people don’t believe in themselves. They can’t turn their envy into a compass that points them to their desires, only seethe from the shore at those who had the will to push out to sea, and thus receive the praise they long for. Outside of a classroom, they can’t practice the patience to develop skills. And when we feel weak, the perpetually left-brained see opportunity.

Art as a commodity. No more of the blissful release of the Dionysian or the logistical intricacies and satisfaction of the Apollonian, but a result. Fifteen minutes between conception and end product, ready for sale the same day, so the “creator” behind it can scrape up their earnings. Integrity, ethics, reception, or reputation be damned. They got theirs and they’re done. The dopamine kicks in when the check clears.

Circling back to JoJo, in the same plotline a character has a conversation with a cop who’s investigating a robbery, checking a recycling bin on the opposite side of the street where the crime was committed on the off chance that he’ll find the perpetrator’s fingerprints.

“It’s my job,” the officer says.

He’s pressed further, presented with situations in which, regardless of his search, the perp still goes free, and is asked what makes him keep working so hard despite those problems.

The cop says, “I’m not just after the result. When all you want is the result, you start to look for shortcuts. And if you take the shortcut, you might lose sight of the truth. You’ll become less motivated. I think the most important thing is the will to find the truth. As long as you have that, even if the suspect gets away this time, you’ll get them eventually, right? Because that’s what you’re after.”

This isn’t the poignant article I hoped it’d be. It doesn’t resonant like I’d have liked it to. My study was for speculative fiction, not essays, so I can feel in my bones how this is lacking, though I’m ill-equipped to repair it. But I’ve often heard it’s better to start before you’re ready. And life has taught me that, in truth, you never will be.

I’ll seek the truth. And I’ll seek those who appreciate it. Even from my insignificant, quiet corner.

[hormigasais]

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CYBERSECURITY

A phenomenal analysis of the cybersecurity market in 2024 from my buddy Mike Privette at Return on Security. I call him the Nate Silver of Cybersecurity Market Analysis. He says cyber investments are getting back to something like normal with over $14B in funding, but with AI and private equity playing much bigger roles than before. LINK

- Total funding: $14B across 621 rounds in 112 product categories

- M&A: 271 transactions worth $45.7B across 59 product categories 

- US still dominated with $10.9B (83% of global funding)

A massive leak of Black Basta ransomware gang's internal chats has researchers working to translate and analyze over 500K Russian messages. LINK

Russian hackers are successfully compromising encrypted Signal messages from Ukrainian military by tricking them into scanning malicious QR codes. LINK

Apple dropped Advanced Data Protection in the UK after the government demanded access to encrypted user backups. The UK seems to be committed to being horrible right now. What does this actually do for people? Also I like the way Apple handled it. No, you can’t have a backdoor. LINK

You can trick ChatGPT's Operator feature into leaking private user data through prompt injection. LINK

Australia is joining the US in banning Kaspersky products from government systems due to concerns about foreign interference and data collection. What took them so long? LINK

Some researchers found they could consistently break prompt defenses by feeding models bizarre Indiana Jones-themed adventure stories. LINK | CMU RESEARCH PAPER

A new phishing-as-a-service platform called Darcula v3 has emerged that lets criminals clone any brand's website in under 10 minutes. LINK

A data leak from TopSec, a Chinese cybersecurity company, reveals they're offering censorship-as-a-service to help monitor and control public opinion in China.  

OpenAI just banned a bunch of accounts using ChatGPT to help create a Chinese surveillance tool for tracking anti-China protests in the West. LINK

NATIONAL SECURITY

The head of Australia's intelligence agency is saying multiple foreign states have been plotting to murder dissidents on Australian soil. LINK

Continue reading online to avoid the email cutoff

AI

🤩 Anthropic finally dropped their latest model, and it was a 2 point dot release of Sonnet. So it’s Sonnet 3.7.

The benchmark’s look completely insane, but you can’t really go by those. The question is what most AI builders are actually using. Even today—after many releases beyond Sonnet 3.5, the go-to for most is still Sonnet 3.5. So it’ll be interesting to see if the people who know stay locked on Sonnet with 3.7, or if something dethrones it.

I have been mostly using Sonnet 3.5 (it’s my default in Fabric)

I’ve now migrated to 3.7 with all my main tools

I sometimes using Gemini Flash for the 2 million tokens

The other thing being talked about with this release is Claude Code, which is a CLI-based coding agent. Basically does the same as Cursor or Cline or whatever, but all in the terminal. LINK

Google is getting rid of SMS 2FA codes for Gmail in favor of QR codes, to cut down on fraud and scams. LINK

Nathan Young wrote a wonderful letter to future artificial general intelligence about the importance of consciousness and the hope that AIs will understand and seek to develop it. LINK

Humane's AI Pin fell from the sky and hit the ground. Sad. I was signed up. These kinds of failures will also affect the ability for new companies to build this kind of hype, which I guess is a good thing. LINK

Elon has been talking non-stop about how Grok3 isn’t filtered, and it’s super smart, and how xAI’s mission is to pursue truth no matter what. Great goals, which I support him on. But tons of people are pointing out that he’s starting to filter/censor results that are critical of him. He can’t have it both ways. Either Grok3 is smart or he’s being called out for good reason. LINK

TECHNOLOGY

Software engineering job listings have fallen to a five-year low, with Indeed postings at just 65% of January 2020 levels—which is worse than any other tech-adjacent field. LINK

An interesting analysis of how PMs and Engineers are merging because of AI. This shouldn’t be surprising since the primitives here are 1) knowing what you want to build, 2) knowing why you want to build that vs. something else, and 3) pursuing that. LINK

Apple is putting half a trillion dollars into US tech manufacturing, with a huge focus on AI and chip production. LINK

Meta's Ray-Ban smart glasses are quietly crushing it with 2 million units sold, and they're making 10M per year by 2026. LINK

YouTube has officially beaten Spotify and Apple as the top source for podcasts. They now have over 1 billion people watching podcasts every month. LINK

Superhuman just announced a major AI-focused release that integrates AI super deeply into your email workflows. I got invited to early version, and it’s super sick. It auto-labels your emails to help with inbox spam. Also, it does AUTO DRAFTS! And AUTO FOLLOW-UPS. So if I asked someone for something, it’ll write a follow-up email and put it drafts for me to review and send! LINK

Alibaba's CEO Eddie Wu said they’re going all-in on AGI development as their primary focus. LINK

HUMANS

New research says despite saying intelligence matters more, both women and their parents overwhelmingly choose the more attractive guy when forced to pick. LINK

Tech executives are now attending "psychedelic slumber parties" where they use ketamine therapy to reset their minds and escape mental ruts LINK

Gallup says LGBTQ+ identification in the U.S. is now 9.3%, which is nearly triple what it was in 2012 when they started tracking it. LINK

Elon's now asking federal workers to list what they did last week or get fired, which—like many things with him—has me cheering and wincing. I love the efficiency push, and I think it’s how he’s able to innovate. But there’s such a thing as going too far. Especially when you’re not building net-new and instead possibly disrupting services that people need. LINK

The Bureau of Prisons is moving forward with plans to house trans inmates based on birth sex rather than gender identity. LINK

A heart doctor explains how swollen fingertips, leg edema, and changes in eye color can predict an impending heart attack. But my cardiologist buddy Jonathan says it’s important to know that just because you don’t have these signs, doesn’t mean you’re ok. LINK

A 27-year-old woman's viral post about "girlhood FOMO" reveals a widespread loneliness crisis among women in their 20s and 30s who feel they're missing out on close female friendships. LINK

Taylor Swift lost 144K Instagram followers after getting booed at the Super Bowl, while her boyfriend Travis Kelce actually gained followers. Someone show me the Algebra on that. LINK

A look at Edward Abbey's raw, honest writings about how to live fully and die on your own terms. LINK

A neuroscientist argues that extremely high IQs (like 160+) are basically fictional, and even Einstein probably scored around 120-130. This is interesting because I’ve thought a lot about this over the years, and the idea that over like 120 the benefits start to significantly reduce. It starts to become way more about the combination of that intelligence with drive, creativity, and most importantly—curiosity. That’s my view, anyway. And this guy’s analysis seems to rhyme, especially his last paragraph. LINK

A NASA-contracted lunar lander just beamed back some gorgeous shots of the Moon as it enters orbit for next week's landing attempt. LINK

  

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[glass-replacement]

Where Can You Find Reliable Glass Replacement Near You For Your Home Or Office?

Glass replacement is a frequent and essential service, regardless of the glass-related problem - a broken office partition, a cracked shower screen at home or anything else. But with so many possibilities, it can be difficult to find trustworthy glass replacement near you. The good news is that there are high-quality services available to satisfy your demands for glass replacement that is prompt, effective and reasonably priced.

To ensure that your property gets the greatest care possible, let’s walk you through the process of locating reliable glass repair providers in your area in this blog.

When searching for glass replacement services in your area, what factors should you take into account?

Knowledge and Proficiency

Selecting a business with a track record of success in the field is crucial when looking for glass repair services. Skilled experts can manage a variety of glass and window designs and are aware of the complexities involved in glass replacement. This ensures that your glass repair will be completed accurately, quickly and with premium materials.

Glass Service Types Offered

Glass replacement services vary from one another. While some concentrate on commercial premises or even custom glass installations, others specialise in residential glass. Whether you need tempered glass for safety ornamental glass for aesthetics or a basic window replacement, be sure the company you select delivers the exact kind of glass replacement you require.

Why Is Selecting a Local Glass Replacement Service Important?

Fast Reaction Time

The prompt response time is one of the main advantages of selecting a local service. Local businesses can usually set up appointments more quickly, so your glass will be fixed as soon as feasible. Taking prompt action will assist safeguard your property and stop additional damage, whether you're dealing with a broken window or a damaged glass door.

Encouragement of the Local Economy

You're supporting local small businesses in your community by selecting a local service. You'll receive first-rate care since local businesses are frequently more committed to offering exceptional customer service and fostering enduring relationships with their clients.

How Can I Locate the Best Local Glass Replacement?

Look Up Reviews and Suggestions Online

One excellent resource for locating trustworthy services in your neighbourhood is the internet. You can gauge the standing of the glass replacement services in your area by looking at online reviews, ratings and suggestions. Seek out businesses who have received good reviews from clients who have used comparable services.

Obtain Several Quotes

Never accept the first quote you are given. To obtain a variety of bids and service options, it's wise to get in touch with a few glass replacement companies in your area. This will assist you in making an informed choice by comparing costs, schedules and quality.

In conclusion

To get the best results while looking for glass replacement near you, it's critical to take the provider's reputation, experience and services into account. Whether you need glass replacement for your house or place of business, you can get it done fast, safely and reasonably by selecting a reputable local firm. Address glass damage as soon as possible to protect your property and keep a cosy, safe space.

[o5-10]

The first thing to understand about my marriage to Nina Newport is that, given the circumstances, I would have married almost any willing party with whom I had decent enough rapport. Newport was selected due to the nature of our specific relationship, but had she declined my ask, someone else would have been selected.

This, of course, leads into the reasons a marriage was requires in the first place.

Initially, you will have to forgive my cagey wording so I may dodge the autoredactor, there had been an alarming number of implications by various parties regarding the idea of in-laws as it may apply to me. At the time that these interrogations and accusations began, I had never been married and had absolutely no intentions of changing that any time in the foreseeable future. As they continued, I began to feel I would like to cut said discussions off at the head, and the simplest way to do so that I could come up with was to marry someone who was unrelated to the relevant family, as that would mean that I would have in-laws I could point to that were not that family.

We got engaged on 19 February, 2019. Initially, the wedding was going to take place around a month and a half after this engagement, however, we had to fast track it, on account of something I have to be even more careful with explaining. Those who were present know the details, but I am not at liberty to elaborate beyond what I will say in the following paragraphs.

On 2 February, 2019, I was contacted by an iteration of the head of the relevant family from an unknown reality. The first message was poorly received, but most other communications from this entity were tolerable enough, largely consisting of what are colloquially known as "dad jokes", though circumstances made these interactions quite tense and awkward by default.

On 18 February, 2019, a second iteration of this individual contacted me. This message contained an apology for the former iteration's behavior, some attempts at encouragement that fell flat, and an invitation to his annual family barbecue, which I had no interest in attending, and lacked the ability to attend even if I had wanted.

This last one is incredibly hard to type about, but I will do my best. On 19 February, 2019, my inbox was turned into a nuclear fallout zone by a third iteration of this individual. This message was the kind of message that not a single soul should ever have the displeasure of receiving. I responded with the appropriate disgust, of course. The problem is that this individual did not leave it at the toxic sludge of a message. He proceeded to *follow me into a multiversal server I moderate* where he talked down to my colleagues, as well as others in there.

Anyway, this prompted Newport and I to fast track the wedding, in the hopes that various versions of this individual would leave me alone, and, more specifically, to dissuade the iteration that was stalking me. This resulted in the wedding being held 26 February, 2019, with an awkward guest list.

Anyway, to assuage any fears, the stalker iteration attempted to crash the wedding, somehow pocket dialed *my reality's* UIU, who showed up and agreed he sucked, and then got himself shot for his crimes. The Overseer Council of the reality he crawled out of apologized for his actions and offered compensation to all affected parties.

In summary: I needed to marry someone to dissuade talk of me having hypothetical in-laws, when I did not. Newport was selected due to our rapport. The wedding ended up happening sooner because I was being actively stalked and harassed by an alternate reality construct's iteration of the head of the family that others tried to claim were my in-laws. It was a disaster, but Nina Newport and I were more married than any other married couple.

[recitedemise]

[ chest ] sender smooths a hand over receiver's chest (Hartley)

PROMPTS FOR TOUCH-STARVED MUSES: still accepting.

He imagines she's buzzed. Whether it be by the richness of her drink or his sumptuous company, however, Gale finds in the moment that he's slow to say. It's a languid evening, at any rate, the lights within his study struck alight and gold. The decanter's fast draining, his gums lined and slick with the taste of his scotch, and on his desk, his menagerie of books lay pried and open. It is, by all accounts, both business and more.

Good. She'd asked him some questions, several queries for the man and a dozen more toward their hunt. He'd answered what he could, rambling about werewolves and his scholarly loves. They're enlightening, he'd told her, or a tale of wicked caution if nothing else at all, expounding on those epics of a Grecian flavor through the woe, the torment of the famed Lycaon. Mysteries so entrap him. He dapples in Sappho. He likes his wines dry while reading by a fire, and with another sip or two of his twinkling beverage, she, atop his desk, had somehow moved.

Gale pauses, eyes tracking her like she's all a fox. Her hands spread about his chest, the hare-thing that's his heart tapping heavy at her palm, and the way his scar peers from beyond his collar? Well, wonder, he calculates, would compel her, too. "Ah. Much like my enigmatic company tonight," he tries for casual, "I'm afraid a man has ought to maintain some semblance of mystery himself. Otherwise, he may very well risk losing perhaps forever your interest, and believe me, the wellbeing of our city insists that he doesn't." A woman made a hunter. A hunter with her prey. The way that pretty scar carves rivers past his jawline... In the light, his brown eyes, earthy, winks in lavender. "If I'm a hunt, I like to believe I'm wise to your methods, Hartley. I intend wholeheartedly to be exceedingly difficult."