#the day he decided to leave the commune.....

[lay-z]

Simon 🤝 forced orgasms

Given his violent canon background, I’m not sure how I feel about “forced” anything and “Simon/Ghost” in the same sentence—especially not him doing it to you, but how about some good ‘ol overstimulation and premature ejaculation instead, hm? :)

Synopsis: Simon comes home from a mission and needs you to take care of him.

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x gn!Reader

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | established romantic relationship; domesticity; cussing; smut; cum eating; praise kink; aftercare/fluff

It is early evening, when the front door opens and closes again, and you can breathe a heavy sigh of relief—air that feels like you’ve been holding inside your lungs forever since he left for another deployment.

Simon has kept you up to date since he had cell service again, stuck far away in a foreign country and waiting for a plane home; informing you of a mission done, no major injuries, no need to worry, a rushed few texts.

couple more hours luv

give o take

dont stay up fr me

i love you

You’re curled up on the couch, barely paying attention to one of the comfort shows you’ve been re-watching for days now, rather listening to his heavy duffel bag hitting the floor, his muffled grunts and groans as he makes his way down the hallway towards you—not running towards him, flinging yourself into his arms like you used to in the beginning of your relationship, knowing how anxious your excitement has always made him back then.

No, you let him come to you; dragging his sore legs into the living room and making your heart skip several beats when he pulls his balaclava off with a soft sigh as soon as he approaches the couch, leaving his dishwater blond hair dishevelled and crazy, short strands sticking to his sweaty forehead, the buzzed undercut he’d left with now growing out once more.

There’s a lot of non-verbal communication going on as soon as he sinks down into the cushions next to you—leaving an arm’s length of space between the two of you, not wanting to soil you with his stank and muck (his bygone words not yours) as he leans back, head tipping back against the backrest with a low groan, tawny eyes fluttering closed with exhaustion.

He falls asleep within seconds, your quiet presence enough to calm his mind and ease some of the tension, and soon enough his snores fill your ears, making you feel lighter, an adoring smile ghosting over your lips.

You let him sleep on the couch; adjusting his position with practiced manoeuvres, so his neck won’t get stiff. He merely grumbles some gibberish under his breath while you take off his boots and strip off his combat fatigues—to make him more comfortable and do first damage control, tracing fading bruises, green purplish-blues, dotting his pale skin—a Dalmatian pup getting its first spots, though this is way less pleasing.

Still better than a gunshot wound, broken bones or some gnarly cuts.

At 2:39 in the morning, you’re awakened by the sound of the shower stream turning on in the ensuite bathroom, and for a moment you consider joining him before rolling over, stretching with a yawn and deciding against it.

Simon will come to you when he’s ready, and he does not shortly after, drawn to you like an invisible force in the dark; mattress dipping under his weight as he slips underneath the preheated covers—thanks to you.

His skin is still slightly damp, towelled off in a rush, and he’s completely nude when he finally curls himself around your body, spooning you from behind and pulling you impossibly close.

And he knows you’re still awake, when his rough palm snakes under the front of your sleepshirt to press flat against your thudding heartbeat. His breath is minty with freshly scrubbed teeth, a cool puff against the back of your neck, when he brushes his lips over your skin.

“Missed you, pet,” he murmurs gravelly, nosing along your rapidly thrumming pulse point. “Always miss ya s’bloody much.”

As if to underline his whispered confession, he grinds his pelvis against your clothed ass, and you can feel how hard he is already—how hard he’s been since boarding the bloody plane back home. It sparks your own body with buzzing arousal and skin-crawling need—a need to assure yourself that he really made it home safe.

Rolling around in his embrace, you face him in the darkness of your shared bedroom, barely able to make out the silhouette of his chiselled features and massive frame.

“I missed you, too, baby.” You stroke your palm over his pecs, feeling a tuft of coarse chest hair. “So much.”

His skin twitches at the gentle contact, squishy muscles flexing and firming under your fingertips, rough breath stuttering in his throat when you lightly pinch and tug on a tiny nipple.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groans, “don’t you fuckin’ stop.”

He rests his forehead against yours; breaths mingling hotly as you slot your leg between his muscular thighs, and Simon knows the drill—starts humping your own thigh slowly, his weeping cockhead leaving a sticky trail of precum on your flushing skin.

The covers rustle when his hand grips your waist, fingers dipping below your underwear with increasing urgency to feel your flesh give under his fingertips when he gropes and squeezes.

“Touch me, pet,” Simon grunts, chapped lips brushing over your temple as he speaks, and it’s more a desperate plea than anything else while his prick leaks heavily. “Need t’feel ya.”

You capture his lips in a slow kiss, tongue delving into his needy mouth, and you feel his heart slam against his ribcage before you caress your hand along his torso, down the planes of pude-covered muscle and scar tissued skin—to cup his heavy sac, full of cum, and feel his hips jolt with a sharp gasp.

“Ngh, please–!” His jaw clicks when his teeth grit together; buff chest heaving with a deep inhale. “Won’t last, lovey, not ah–fuck–not like this–”

“I know, baby,” you coo, “–‘s okay.”

The covers slip and lift as he squirms and the scent of his arousal hits your nostrils—clean skin, fresh linens, and the heady musk of his cum—making your head spin and your own desire pool deep and searing in your guts.

When you do finally swipe your thumb over his sensitive, drooling slit, you bring your fingers back up to lick at the milky essence coating your fingers with a pleased hum before slipping them past his lips, feeling his slick tongue swirl around your digits as you press down on sharp-edged teeth and silky gums.

A guttural moan is muffled and it dissolves into a low whine while he swiftly pulls you closer against the length of his body; hand fisting into the back of your shirt with growing desperation, bed rocking as he ruts against your thigh more fervently while his thick cock drags along supple skin, his ruddy, swollen tip nudging against your soft abdomen.

You keep your fingers in his mouth, his strong jaw slack and relaxed now—a loving handler trusting its feral dog to not get mauled—while he drools steadily, spit trickling down your wrist.

His hips stutter, thrusts faltering, and Simon cums with a broken string of whimpers and moans; panting while his fat prick gushes a generous load against your stomach that soaks into the old fabric of your shirt—his shirt—painting your skin where he’d rucked it up to feel you.

It’s a warm, sticky mess, one that will surely dribble down into the sheets if you’re not careful, and it goes on for a moment; cock throbbing and spurting cum that he couldn't get rid of for days, his balls pulsing as the pressure and frustration finally eases some.

You pull your fingers out only to cup his face and seal his wet lips with yours, kissing him with unbridled passion as you rub your thigh against his spend cock, feeling it twitch as his whole body shudders with aftershocks.

“Fuck… fuck, I needed that,” he mutters against your lips, his voice wrecked and hoarse now.

“I know.” Your eyes flutter closed with a soft smile, emotionally satisfied and fuzzy inside, while Simon peppers your face with saccharine kisses, nuzzling into your hairline, hands roaming greedily to explore the curves of your pliant body, branding the feeling of you in his arms into the crevices of his brain like countless times before.

“Gonna make it up to you, pet,” he grumbles, cheeks flushed under his stubble. “Jus’… gimme ten minutes.”

[hexus-girl]

Your brother got the short end of the stick when he started working with Griffins a few years ago. He studied abroad in Greece and fell in love with the beasties. You think he expected to gain wings or at least a tail, but he only inherited a strange taste for raw meat. Every time he comes home for the holidays he brings questionable packages with him that bleed and smell like death. Your Aunt claims she saw him scarfing one down, but she's always prone to exaggerate.

Your sister did better. She wanted to become a singer so she hung around a cliche of sirens in high school. She could already carry a tune, but befriending them didn't hurt anything. Hell, she was the maid of honor at one of their weddings. Unfortunately for your sister she quit after a few years of low paying gigs and bad luck. Now she's back in college studying cyber security. You chat with her over the phone when you're not too busy. She says she's happy and looking into auditioning for the next musical the community will put on.

You wanted to help people. Badly. You were always fascinated with becoming a Paramedic or a Nurse. So you decided to job shadow a Paramedic for a day, and that's where you met your current boss.

There was a call that day. An older man thought he was having a heart attack. When the ambulance crew got there he wasn't breathing. While the Paramedics performed cpr a knock sounded on the front door. You went to answer since there wasn't anything else you could do. A man in a black suit greeted you when you opened the door. You couldn't remember the exact conversation you had, but it ended when he handed you a business card and disappeared. Unfortunately the patient was found to have passed shortly after the paramedics arrived at the scene. Saddening news, but not uncommon.

You called the number on the business card the next day, and was offered a job. For what you weren't sure, but you'd at least see what the responsibilities were. That was two years ago and you're happily working as an archivist under your boss. You work in the basement filing paperwork, but that's apparently close enough to garner changes. Honestly you suspected he was some kind of mage when he disappeared on you, but you never expected that he was Thanatos himself.

The changes are slow, but very noticeable. Whenever you reach for a file and your flesh turns transparent, showing your bones in all their glory before your skin becomes opaque again. How you can practically feel how close to death your grandfather is when you hug him. And the most damning of all; a man attempted to mug you one evening in an alley. Despite giving him your wallet, he shot you. Yet after huddling on the ground for what felt like hours, the bullet wound closed leaving you with a just a bloody shirt and mental trauma.

You're sure as long as you work under him these changes will continue. After all, death is powerful. More so than Griffins and Sirens. But the benefits are good, especially in an economy like this. Yet when you lay awake at night and stare at the ceiling, you can't help but think to yourself; is dental insurance really worth what's being wrought upon your body?

Some magical creatures are so powerful that working for them or having a close relationship causes one to gain traits of that creature over time. You were not aware of this until one day you notice strange changes to your body.

[vmlnrzmp4]

heyyy!!! Can I request a family dinner w bllk dad's and their daughters (possibly w their future partner???)

𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥.

—turned out more angsty than i thought.

itoshi sae

when kai had gone abroad, sae genuinely thought the distance would make natsuki's and kai's feelings for each other disappear. he was wrong. the distance only made them yearn more for each other. especially when sae accompanied natsuki at the airport to welcome kai, sae felt...sad when he saw how the kids ran towards each other and secured each other in an embrace. here at the dinner table, natsuki and kai thought they were slick, holding hands under the table but sae noticed. obviously he did. he's sae. he exhales, putting his chopsticks down, making everyone's attention go to him. and he asks the question—if kai actually has feelings for natsuki. and without hesitation, the words leave kai's mouth—i love natsuki. you could already sense sae's heart paining. honestly, you felt the same, not on sae's level however. but the atmosphere seemed to lighten when sae called out them for their pda and warned about it. but atleast, he approved.

itoshi rin

on one side, there was rin. on the other were souta and shouma. and then between all this? were poor sakura and hiro. if looks could kill, hiro would be dead thrice now. you noticed ofcourse, and that was it for you. you stepped up, glaring at the three—rin, souta and shouma, telling them to cut it out. the twins tried to reason but you shut them up by saying that they're still too young to be like this. it was disrespectful considering that sakura and hiro are older than them. then you turned to rin, your expressions even colder now as you scold him, saying how because of him the twins are getting this behaviour from him. rin was about to argue. but he decided to shut his mouth, considering that's a better option than to face your wrath. you then scolded the three of them together saying that you knew they were protective over sakura but it is sakura's relationship, they should not butt in. and with that, you exhaled. and you smiled as if you didn't make the three almost piss their pants.

isagi yoichi

compared to the other families, isagi household was thankfully calm and peaceful. as for yoichi and kaito—no father and brother wanted to imagine their daughter and sister dating. but kaito, who was initially very overprotective(just like his papa) over yuki—was now all buddy buddy with kazuki. and yoichi who initially had a beef with painting(only because it was kazuki's hobby) was now impressed by kazuki's art skills. the dinner was wholesome with yoichi(and kaito) actually communicating with kazuki. sharing stories and jokes and laughing over them. (very domestic kazuki marry yuki already—). at last, you were just thankful the night ended on a good note.

michael kaiser

the tension was legit suffocating. you might think that alex would be regretting falling for the michael kaiser's days daughter. no. alex didn't regret one bit. and michael knew that. and michael hated that. like any other dad, michael was not ready to see his little girl grow up have get a lover already. but she did. which did cause a lot of chaos. but now the chaos was silent. like mentioned before—suffocating. you and alex were talking about pretty mundane things. anne would include herself here and there. and then there's her papa. cold and silent. and michael hated that too. he envied you. how you could casually talk to alex. but how could he even initiate? not when he literally told alex to get lost before. so michael thought it would be better to shut up. and that's why alex spoke first. "sir...i know your first impression of me wasn’t great," which was when he had called anne past midnight, "but i mean every word i say..." and that is—"i love anne," alex confesses, "i always have and always will." michael scoffs, but it's all amusement, "got a smart mouth huh?" "i mean every word, sir." "and i still don't approve," michael declares, as per him, his logic is that alex has to earn it. it cannot be granted. not when it comes to his princess.

a/n: hello darling! i apologize, it took a while to complete your request, but here you go🫶🏼

taglist: @anyaminz @luciddre @kongkhoi @illyriakrasniqi2007 @passw-0-rd @x3nafix @levihanmyotp @vellichorira @sapph1r3x @tamashithe2nd @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 [open]

[ac3ofspad3s-on-ao3]

SBI but everyone's been touched by death each in unique ways. Kristin is the Goddess of Death, Philza is her right-hand man, her angel. Wilbur is some ship of theseus zombie fuck who keeps replacing his body parts (he's held together with necromancy and far too much duct tape). And Techno who's a good ol' fashioned vampire.

Tommy is 16 and very mortal. Somehow, the immortal chucklefucks are his family, not biologically he just got picked up like a stray cat one day and now won't fucking leave (not that anyone wants him to).

The gag here is simple: All of them keep trying to convince him to die, or more aptly, they keep trying to kill him, so that he'll join them in death.

Kristin and Phil promise him immortality if Tommy gives Kristin his soul, she'll make him her undying servant the same as Phil.

Wilbur keeps trying to convince Tommy that slowly replacing his body parts with slightly fresher ones is the way to go and it's going to be all the rage with the undead crowd one of these days. He's been saying that for 500 years. It will never catch on. Everyone in the immortal and undead community view him as a freak of nature who shouldn't be alive or have lived half as long as he has.

Techno keeps trying to convince Tommy that giving up ever seeing the sun is a perfect trade for immortality and all the cool powers vampirism gives you.

And Tommy will one day take one of them up on their offer off immortality. Not Wilbur's offer, but when he's older he'll decide between become a vampire or Kristin's angel and he'll join his family.

[slutforvoldy]

“ YOU'RE LOSING ME. ” ( lando norris ! )

SUMMARY: the reader struggles with the painful realization that no matter how much she gives, lando will never fight for her the way she fights for him.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: angst, lando is a d!ck, gaslighting, communication issues, mentions of y/n

pairing: lando norris x female!reader

tag-list: @oscduck81

a/n: this may or may not be loosely inspired by a real life experience..........

THE ROOM WAS dimly lit, the soft blue glow of Lando’s sim racing setup casting shadows across the walls. The hum of his game filled the silence, the sharp sound of tires screeching on a digital track drowning out the soft, broken sobs escaping your lips.

You lay curled up on the bed, your back turned to him. Salty tears slipped down your cheeks, soaking into the pillow. You weren’t even sure why you were crying anymore—was it sadness? frustration? or just the aching emptiness that was growing inside you?

You knew he could hear you. He always could.

But just like every other night, he turned up the volume of his game. Hinting an unspoken message: I don’t want to hear you. I don’t want to deal with you.

And gosh, it hurts.

He always does this. He rarely talks to you despite living in the same apartment. As if there is a big wall between the two of you. As if both of you have two different worlds. His priorities had shifted, and you weren’t part of them anymore. Gaming. Racing. Nights out with friends. Work. Everything came before you. And no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you knew deep down that he just didn’t care the way he used to.

He used to act differently when your relationship started. You missed the time when it felt like his world revolved around you, when he made you feel like you were the most important thing in his life, but now you don't know when or what went wrong. You can only wonder what happened to the man you love.

Your friends are all begging you to leave.

"Wake up, Y/N!" "You deserve better." "What else is there to hold on to?"

It started to become obvious that the things Lando has been doing have been affecting you to the point that you started seeing a therapist, desperately trying to piece yourself back together.

But the worst part is that Lando never even noticed.

You knew that this was not healthy. You knew you should leave. But things are easier said than done.

The thought of walking away—of starting over, of loving someone who wasn’t him—made your stomach twist. It felt impossible, unbearable.

Despite everything, despite the pain, you still wanted to stay. You clung to the hope that one day he would wake up and realize what he was losing. That he would see you again—as someone he once loved. Someone worth fighting for.

So you stayed. Because letting go felt harder than holding on.

It’s a big day in Abu Dhabi—the moment that will decide the 2024 Formula 1 constructors' championship. McLaren almost has an even tie with Ferrari; therefore, they desperately needed Lando to win. So you take your time to self-soothe after what happened last night.

"You just don’t understand, Y/N. Why can’t you just accept the fact that I’m a busy person?" Lando exclaimed, frustration lacing his voice.

You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. "Oh, I’m sorry—if bar-hopping with your friends and getting all over the media with random girls counts as 'busy,' then I must be such an idiot for not taking the hint!"

His jaw tightened. "Those pictures are from a long time ago," he muttered.

"Oh, really?" you said amusingly while scoffing.

Silence stretched between you before you finally snapped. "All I ever wanted was for you to notice me! To talk to me! Hell, to actually see me! Is that really too much to ask?"

Lando ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. "I don’t understand, Y/N. I’m giving you all the attention I can."

But it was never enough. It never felt like enough.

You sighed in defeat, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know you wouldn’t understand."

This morning, like every morning, you glared at him with storms in your eyes. But he didn’t notice—he never did. You wondered how numb he could be to not feel your grip on him slipping away. How could you love someone and not see them breaking right in front of you?

All you needed was his reassurance—that despite everything happening, despite the way he treated you, you were still the one he loved. But every time you brought it up, he twisted it around, making it seem like you were the problem. Every conversation turned into an argument instead of a solution, and with each fight, your resentment only grew.

One night, you needed him more than ever. After a brutal argument with your parents, they kicked you out, leaving you with nowhere to go. Lando was the only person you could turn to—the one person you thought you could rely on.

"I tried calling you. I rang your doorbell over and over and over again, but you never answered." Your voice wavered, frustration and hurt bleeding through. "So tell me, Lando—where were you that night?"

"I was sleeping!" he insisted, his tone defensive.

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Sleeping? Really?" You shook your head in disbelief. "I literally saw the notification on your Twitch that you were live with Max!" Your voice cracked as anger and betrayal surged through you. "You left me outside your house for hours!"

Lando exhaled sharply. "Maybe it’s your fault for always expecting too much," he muttered under his breath, but you caught every word.

Your stomach twisted as you stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"Maybe..." His voice became louder. "It’s my fault for not being enough for you," he added, his voice flat.

"Or maybe it's our fault for not making this relationship work properly."

That was your breaking point.

Lando won the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, securing McLaren’s victory in their fierce battle against Ferrari for the Constructors' Championship. You were proud—proud that your boyfriend had claimed another Grand Prix win, proud that his team had finally won. But deep down, you knew the truth: tonight, he wouldn’t be celebrating with you.

You often envied the girlfriends of other drivers—the way they rushed into their arms after a win, how they spent their victories surrounded by their girlfriends and families. But for you, it was different. You longed for that warmth.

Now, it was time to pose for the cameras, to put on a dazzling smile and make your relationship look picture-perfect—at least on the surface. In the photos, you were the devoted girlfriend, the perfect couple. But behind your fake smile, a storm raged inside you.

You had always been there for him—through his highs and lows, his victories and defeats. But when it was you who needed him, he was nowhere to be found.

And as the flashes of cameras captured the illusion of happiness, a sinking realization settled in your chest. You couldn’t keep living like this. You couldn’t keep giving all of yourself to someone who never gave anything back.

One thing was clear tonight—you were done hurting yourself for someone who wouldn’t do the same for you.

You took a taxi back to the hotel alone, your vision blurred with tears as the city lights streaked past. The moment you stepped into the room, you began packing—hands trembling, heart racing. You hadn’t planned this, but deep down, you knew it was inevitable. It wasn’t just impulsive; it was necessary.

As you zipped up your suitcase, your fingers brushed against a worn polaroid tucked between your clothes. Your favorite picture—back when love still felt easy, when he still looked at you like you were his entire world. You held it for a moment, your thumb tracing the edges, debating whether to take it with you.

But some things belonged to the past.

Flipping it over, you picked up the hotel pen and, with a heavy heart, wrote your final words.

I love you forever, Lando. I'm forever grateful. —Y/N

You placed the polaroid on the bed, letting it rest there. Then, with a deep breath, you grabbed your bags and walked to the door.

Before stepping out, you turned back for one last glance at everything you're about to leave behind. All of the memories you and Lando had, either good or bad.

Just like that, you walked out of his life, and with every step, the weight you had carried for so long finally began to lift.

[caffieneaddictt18]

Reader has been selected as a kind of babysitter for the Avengers, picked from a carefully selected pool. Reader was once an operator with Task Force 141. She is still close friends with Ghost, Soap, Roach, Gaz, and Price. One day, she says she's going out and because she never leaves, unless it's important, the Avengers follow her. They watch her as she goes to this little cafe to meet up with her previous comrades. They try to be sneaky, she catches them, and sends them home. Once they get home, the team tries to research her and finds little to nothing. They find a social media page, a woman who died a month ago, and... is that a... US Military page?

Callsign: Cherry

How you got it: You decide, just make it an embarrassing story (or don’t, idc)

“Hey! Meeting in the living room!” You call everyone down, arms crossed, standing in the commons.

As the Avengers all shuffle in, taking their spots. Thor sits in the recliner on your left and Steve sits in an arm chair to the right. Tony stands behind the couch, Clint sits on the floor in front of the couch and Natasha sits on the couch with Wanda as the rest of the team fall into a comfortable seating position and distance.

“I’m going out for a little while. When I come back, I don’t want to see a mess. No fire, no prototype testing in unauthorized areas, no using the vents while I’m gone, and no, for the love of god, no using anything other than the microwave while I’m gone. I do not want webs anywhere and no threatening each other at gun point. And whatever other rules I implemented before this moment in time are still in effect. I will find out if you break any of those rules. Oh. Last one: no killing each other. Lord knows that’s a fuckin’ given.” Your rough British accent leaks out at your last sentence as you grab your purse, that carries your keys, phone, wallet, and a concealed gun (not to mention the S.H.E.I.L.D. issue pistol tucked in your waistband).

“Copy: 1, 2?”

“Copy.” Steve replies, the unofficial co-leader of the group reassuring you before you leave. You sigh, your shoulders hunching as you enter the elevator.

“FRIDAY?” You fix your jacket as you speak to the building’s A.I.

“Yes, Ms. (L/N)?”

“I’ll be gone for a few hours. Alert me if they do anything stupid, yeah?”

“I’ll text you if they break any of the rules, Ms. (L/N).”

“Thank you, FRIDAY.”

“Anytime.”

The doors open as the A.I. finishes talking, spitting you out on the ground floor.

As you stroll on the street, checking your phone for the address of the cafe that Price had picked to meet up at. You smile as you approach, just happy to see your old team. “Miss me?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe, lass.” Soap scoops you up and spins you around, before you both join the other members at the table.

What you are unaware of is the constant, stealthy presence of Natasha and Clint, using Stark tech as Tony stalks you with the rest of the members of the intrigued team, wondering why the hell you were leaving the tower you refused to leave so often.

Ghost feels someone staring, and turns his head, just to barely catch Clint looking away.

“Ya know them?” Ghost takes a sip of his black coffee, eyes flicking to Clint and Natasha, as a way of communicating who’s watching.

“They’ve been staring at us for the past three minutes. Long time.”

“You’d know, wouldn’t you, pretty boy? Counting the minutes of a staring woman.” You tease Gaz, taking a sip of your drink.

“He’s actually been missing his shots at the pubs recently. It’s been a little crazy to see.” Roach butts in, eating his pastry.

“That’s priceless.”

Price takes a look at the two assassins as you pay attention to whatever story Soap is telling with Roach’s corrections and inputs. A red haired woman who isn’t bothering to even wear sunglasses. A normal looking man… not normal. His stance… like he’s ready for a fight to start at any moment.

You look at Price, chuckling from the last story. “Cap?”

“Hm?” Price’s eyes flick back to you, breaking eye contact with the woman.

Your eyes trace back where he was looking and you see them. All smile and even laughter falls from your face and eyes as you stand up. “Be right back.” You pat Soap’s shoulder as you walk to Nat and Clint. “Ah! My friends! So good to see you!” The fake smile easily fills the space your deadpan glower was sitting.

You wrap your arms around their shoulders. “I swear to god that this will not go unnoticed,” the whispered threat hangs in the air as Clint gulps a little and Natasha looks away in shame. “Got what Stark wanted?”

“Yes…”

“Great. Then get the fuck out of here and if I ever catch you tailing me again, I will be siccing that big guy over there on you. He’s not very forgiving.” You briefly nod your head at Ghost, who is intensely staring at the interaction. “Get out of here.” You pat their backs as they walk off.

“Clint!” The archer stops in his tracks. “Put it back.”

He sighs and puts the wallet down on the table.

“Now, for the love of god, tell Stark to respect my privacy.” You swipe the wallet back, putting it in your back pocket as you watch them walk away.

The two leave, once again, acting like a couple on the streets of New York. “Sorry ‘bout that, Cap. Won’t be botherin’ us again.” I assure Price as I sit back down.

“Your mothering has gotten worse.” Roach speaks up.

“It’s like handling children.”

“Well, forget about them and enjoy this.” Soap pours a little Bailey’s in your drink before sneakily putting the flask away.

“I will.” You drink and have a good time with your old team, enjoying being in their presence again.

Back in the Tower, Natasha and Clint arrive in the big ass computer lab that Stark set up. “What did you find?”

You had been an enigma since Fury dropped you off as a glorified babysitter two years ago. A veteran who, apparently, couldn’t keep away from danger. Still… a veteran at 34? That’s a new one. Most would either become a vet around 22 or when they have to retire from the military. You never revealed what you did, who you worked for, and what you did in the military. The only real thing they knew about you is that your night terrors were constant and you preferred to not sleep. And you couldn’t be surprised, no matter how quiet they were when sneaking up on you.

As Tony ran your name (your face hadn’t gotten any hits), he came across a social media page of a 14 year old and quickly swiped away. He found an obituary! Of a 78 year old woman who died of cancer… not their babysitter.

“Boss, I have found something interesting you might like to look at.” FRIDAY’s voice comes through the rooms speakers clear as day.

“Throw it up, FRIDAY.” Tony claps his hands as FRIDAY throws up what she found on the screen.

“A British military profile. (L/N), (F/N). Callsign: Cherry. Home address: Redacted, UK Birthplace: Redacted, UK Date of Birth: 1994, 29 years old. Branch of Service: British Army and Special Air Service, affectionately called SAS. Rank: Lieutenant. Skills in Sniper Techniques, Electronics and Software, Covert Reconnaisance, Interrogation Techni-"

"FRIDAY, that's enough now." You stop FRIDAY from speaking anymore.

"Welcome back, Miss Cherry." "Never call me that again." "You got it."

"So... anyone want to explain this to me?" You lean on the banister, looking out at the group of superhumans in front of you, looking at your own file.

"Well... you never leave so-"

"Who is '141'?" Tony cuts off Wanda, who gives him a glare in returns. Tony pulls up an image from a long time ago.

"That is none of your business." You motion for it to be taken away.

"Don't know who the Mexican man in the front is, but the other four were at the cafe she was at." Natasha speaks up, also leaning on the banister.

"Keep your mouth shut."

"From what we know, you like it when people spill secrets." Steve walks over, broad chest and all with his arms crossed.

"What I did is none of your business. It's classified. Besides, scare tactics don't work on me, Rogers. You're not my Captain."

"What cafe?" Tony tries to look through the city's CCTV.

"You'll never find them. Natasha and Clint finding them was a fluke. If they want to hide, they'll hide." I try to dissuade Tony from looking for my team.

"Hard to miss a skull balaclava though. Guy looked like he wanted to kill everyone at the shop." Clint pipes up from beside Natasha, breaking away from texting on his phone to deliver the snarky comment.

"He's not a people person."

"Clearly. 'Name: Simon Riley. Callsign: Ghost.' Ooh, scary. Ya like the bad boys, Cherry?"

"You don't get to call me that, Stark."

"But they do? These strangers?"

"They aren't strangers to me. And they aren't dangerous."

"They exploded a subway."

"And you dropped an entire city, killing tens of thousands, trying to save said city from a monster of your making. Your point?"

"Don't have one anymore. 'Rank: Lieutenant'? Fellow Lieutenant on the squad. Ever thought about..." Tony makes a circle with one hand and sticks a finger in the hole. "ya know."

"Tony. Thank you for your concern, but that will never happen." You deadpan at him.

"Everything but the country of his home address is redacted. Just 'UK'. And his birthplace is also redacted. Just 'Manchester, UK'."

"Leave the man alone. He doesn't deserve whatever slander you are about to throw at him." You slouch, tired of Stark's antics.

"Fine. I'll leave it be for now. But you have got to tell us about your favorite mission. I need to know what this 'Ghost' guy can do." Stark puts up his tablet and shuts down the hologram.

"Who says that he was on my favorite mission?" You smirk as you walk away and to the common space.

"Then what was it?!" Peter Parker shouts from the room, jogging to catch up with you.

"Classified."

Author's Note: Thinking between the titles 'Classified' and 'Glorified Babysitter'. Let me know which one you like more.

[blackstar-liveblogs]

Since Green threatened Blue faction with a war, there has been a few interesting reactions from it. tr!Scott in particular, found out a few days ago about his previous Warrior days, then he is received with this whole ordeal.

After watching a couple of streams, I find it so cool that this situation has allowed us to see a side of tr!Scott that we haven't witnessed much before.

All that being said, Tumblr does not like when I post clips that last more than 7 minutes, so the almost 12 minutes of recent clips I compiled, will be typed out. Big ramble under the cut.

*From this point onward, I am only talking about the characters.*

Starting off with a quote from the last Realm stream as of this post being made.

Scott: (After reading the book of demands Green gave them) So we won't be accepting those terms and conditions, that won't be happening. But, we've got three days or something, and it's clear we're going to be in a war and I just don't really have the time and energy for that. I'm in my lazy girl era at the moment, you know? I just found out I used to be one of the big Warriors and, you know, I did my time, it didn't work out. I won't try to do that anymore.

Last time I touched this topic, when Scott just found out about his past as one of the 4 Warriors, before a snail consumed him and his memories, I typed out two possible paths he could take after receiving this information.

And option 1 was right: Attempts to brush it off and move on to continue the peaceful life he wants.

Although, the difference between my prediction and what ended up happening, it's that Scott is not ignoring it 100%. He does aknowledge that this is something that happened, someone who he was before and tells people about it. At the same time, the quote above gives big ''it's clear that we failed, that I failed, so why try again'' energy.

That mixed with his wish for no more violence and conflicts on the Realm, Scott is retiring himself from this life he had before, he sees no point on seeking it again. Why if it clearly did not work out? If things ended up so badly he forgot it all?

That night of Bad chasing Foolish and deaths all around really shaped the line of thinking of this man. He was not okay that day, with only Therapy Dog as comfort and someone who he could vent his distress to.

Why are people jumping to killing each other so quickly? Can't they just talk and figure it out? Is my will to not kill anyone not... normal? That's where that whole experience left him.

He did get to talk to Bek about it briefly before the ball. Bek did assure him that it's not like killing each other is normal, it's just that there's people who jump into it more than others. Scott replied that he sure did notice that, but it looks like violence it's normal for them (the other members).

Ever since, Scott has been advocating for no violence around the rest of the cast. Specially to get himself out of conflicts as much as possible. He won't get targets on his back he doesn't need and he will propose more peaceful solutions to different situations.

Which is why he decided to build the corporate resort area. His goal is that the Factions can go to a place in case of any dispute or conflict, leave their weapons in lockers, relax and work out their issues with fun team activities. Less murder, more communication and teamwork.

But then... he is hit directly with the war threat.

And Scott does not want this.

Do not be mistaken, as much as he doesn't want to be involved in a war, he will also not accept the only option that they're giving them to not be in one, which is join Green. He is loyal to Blue, since day 1 he has been loyal to Blue, never to Red. Accepting the demands is not something to consider at all.

Scott tried to subtly but surely push the idea that there is no need for a war. Like when both him and Pangi fixed the creeper farm.

Pangi: Omg, Scott, we're awesome. Teamwork!

Scott: See? The factions can work together. There doesn't need to be a war.

I mean, of course Pangi did not genuinely agree to that, but Scott sure made the attempt.

A couple of days later, the reunion of the Teal Titans takes place at Blue HQ.

Aimsey: Callum today was thinking about just going absolute rage mode. I was thinking of how we could... think step aheads of this situation. But Scott, what do you think we should do?

Scott: I... don't really care.

Aimsey: Brilliant. Brilliant stuff.

CPK: (Laughs) That's my princess of Blue.

Aimsey: (Claps) That's my princess.

Scott: I'm actually on my lazy girl era at the moment. I don't fight.

Bek: ''I don't care, I'm not a fighter.'' (Laughs)

Aimsey: Beautiful. Beautiful.

Scott: I'm a builder, not a fighter. I'm building the beach episode.

CPK: So we have very different points. The points we discussed earlier, Aimsey was thinking if it means leaving Blue to prevent Blue getting destroyed. My logic is, if they touch any building we've ever done, I will blow up everything they own.

Scott: I mean, I'm down to go down that route. But solely because I don't have... The thing is like- The thing with that is that Bad's builds are so big, they are annoyingly big.

Scott: The thing is, from my side, that's why I think I don't... care. Because, realistically, if Tubbo wants to do what Tubbo wants to do, I can't stop that. And also on the Bad side I can't stop that either, I'm only level... 45. I haven't died yet.

These three moments gave us some neat insight.

It's not that Scott does not care about the faction or it's members (and that will be proved in further dialogue). He does not care about the war or situation itself, because it's a lose-lose, it's pointless to try to stop Tubbo or Bad, they have the power to do whatever they want in different ways, and Scott can't stop them in either of those ways. He does not want to participate at all.

It does remind me of how he's handling the information of his past. ''If it didn't work out, why try again'' / ''If we lose either way and have no chance to fight back, why care.''

And it lines up with his non-violence wishes for the Realm to reach.

It's also interesting how he said he would not have issue with going to CPK's path of destruction. This is part of the side of his character we don't see very often.

I believe what he was about to say is that he has no issue with that, since those are buildings he does not care about. But he also expressed a bit of annoyance towards that approach, since Bad's buildings are big, not because he was against retaliation.

We have to remember, this is the same man who told Therapy Dog that Pangi's approach of killing him because 'he disrespected someone he cared about' sounded like it made sense and he was okay with it. He was just going to take it. He thinks that kind of retaliation makes sense.

I guess it would come down to ''if someone wronged you or wronged someone you love, answering back like that is reasonable.'' This was one of the early lessons on this Realm for him and nobody has told or showed him otherwise, even right at this moment. And it seems to still stick with him in some way or another.

And again, he doesn't want to repeat the Warrior life, since it didn't work before.

Aimsey: Yeah, war never changes, nobody lives long enough to see the cycle of repeat, yada yada.

Scott: I mean, I did. I just then got consumed by a f*cking snail.

Aimsey: Yeah, that's a good point.

Scott: Either you die trying or you live long enough to be eaten by a snail and forget everything anyways.

So, Scott seems to be sure that, as a Warrior, he fought on a war before, or at least assume that. We have to consider, he did tell Pangi and Ros that he only remembers feelings from back then, instead of memories.

Maybe this rejection of war, advocating against violence, the wish for no-conflict, it all boilds down from those past experiences he can't recall. Like, not only the distress during the night he talked with Therapy Dog, but the possibility that there's more to it and he is not 100% aware of it.

What it's so intriguing, it's that this potential past war would have been against the Corruption. I heavily wonder how a war against the Corruption would have been like.

Scott: Wait- What if...? Idea. What if... we kidnap Tubbo?

Bek: And do what with him?

Scott: I was gonna say we kidnap Lukey, but I don't think he would really care.

Aimsey: That's crazy. That's actually crazy.

Scott: Realistically, if we had Lukey in a cage, do you think Bad is gonna care? Like, I don't think Bad is gonna care. But, I think if Tubbo is in it, he'll have to.

Aimsey: Yeah, but do you understand how bad for us that would be?

Scott: No, because then we would say 'hey guys, we'll give him back if you just leave us the hell alone and stop involving us in your weird story we don't want to be part of.'

CPK: I like it.

Bek: The negotiations are like 'can't you just leave us out of it? Thank you.'

Scott: Yeah, but normally, wars start because the countries are fighting for something. But we are just sitting here like, none of our builds used to be theirs, we don't use any of their land, we don't have resources more than they do. They're literally picking on us for the sake of picking on us at this point.

Scott: Didn't Bad sign... the F.A.C.T.I.O.N. thing?

CPK: He did! He literally did!

Aimsey: I asked him about that...

Bek: That doesn't really apply unless there's a threat outside of it.

Scott: What if we make a threat outside of it?

Aimsey: Like?

Scott: I'll turn back into a giant evil snail. And I'll go into a rampage, only you three will know the snail is me, the others would be like 'woah a giant evil snail.' And then they'll have to unite to fight it. I'll kill a few of them for fun, but not you three, and then I'll have an invis pot, so when I come out of the shell, they'll think they destroyed it, and I'll be like 'omg guys, you did it, you defeated the snail.' And they'll be like 'yeah, it was great, look how good we can work together.'

Aimsey: I'm one threat away from... leaving the faction.

Scott: I mean, I've said 'why don't we just pack up and move'?

CPK: And move far away?

Scott: Yeah! Because it feels like there's little point in staying here.

CPK: That is true.

Scott: I have a lovely beach resort I'm working on, but that was supposed to be used for resolving faction conflicts, rather than... And I mean, it was just for the hell of it, I can leave it so no one finds us again.

(CPK said that it would be hilarious if they allowed them to move the entire chunk 6K blocks away).

Scott: If we'll sacrifice something...

CPK: I'll give a life.

Scott: Yeah, same, I'll give a life to place it far away in the sky with a force field around it.

CPK: I like it.

These moments reflect how Scott is willing to do a lot to reach that peaceful life he wants, and not just for himself, he wants it for Aimsey and CPK too. And they love Bek, so she's included on not getting in harm's way by default.

He's willing to kidnap someone so they are left alone. He's willing to turn back into a giant snail, the status that took all his memories once, to be a threat that all the factions can fight against and they finally unite and stop having conflict among themselves. He's willing to leave his project made so factions resolve issues peacefully, to ensure they are not followed. He's willing to give a life to have their land be moved far away with a freaking force field so no one bothers them.

As a snail, he would be willing to kill some of the members for fun. Scott advocates for no-violence, but it feels like one of those cases where if he's pushed too much and if there's a chance he doesn't get in trouble for it...

One more point to the side of Scott we don't see very often.

Scott: What if... And I know this is against what you want, Cal. But, what if...? Tubbo went about how 'Blue is a shell of it's former self and the vision he created' blablabla. But, what if we disband the Blue faction that he created, and then we instate a new faction, which he would have nothing to do with, and we make it based on the standards that we want.

Aimsey: Not bad.

Scott: Then we could be the official Teal team. Rather than Blue it would be Teal on the tab list.

CPK: A slight color hue shift to get around it. I like it.

Scott: It's one of those things that, realistically, the only thing I have allegiance to it's you two.

Aimsey: Yeah, I was explaining that.

Scott: And it fits with my personal color scheme, but that's beside the point. Red was a real big clash, um... So then that's why I'm kinda like, if they want to have a war against a faction that doesn't exist, like, good luck. We can always... disband, take a week and come back like 'hey guys, new me, new us.'

CPK: I like it.

Aimsey: You guys think we should... disband Teal Titans as we know it, for now?

Scott: I think, currently, Tubbo- despite the fact that he left, he still feels like he has a weird ownership over Teal, because he was a 'founding member.' I feel like he has this vendetta/personal attachment to it, that it would be removed because we would no longer be that faction. It would then prove he has a grudge against you specifically, then that's a whole lot of problems to deal with, but at least there's clarity there. Like, that's sort of where my brain goes. Again, I'm also the newest Teal member, I don't have... again, the only attachment I have it's you two and this building I filled with things.

HUGE.

If you have not realized yet what was just admitted, last long post about this character, it was stated that he makes any sort of attachment and connections very slowly, because he has to re-learn how it is to care about others and how it is that others care about him.

Scott saying now that his only attachments are CPK and Aimsey is a great upgrade from that. And of course they are the first ones. They were the first ones he bonded with, they spent time with him the most. CPK brings sillyness and an equal logic-based mindset. Aimsey brings an equal desire to not fight and patience to explain what he has yet to re-learn. All three together are really good friends.

He's developing care. As slow as it may be, with his own ways to show it, with struggles to react to situations properly, it's starting to be there. If he wasn't, he would just leave the faction and both of them behind to not get involved, but no, he wants that life out of conflict with them, he has been proposing solutions all meeting for all three of them.

Shortly after, the Teal Titans went to talk to Foolish. Scott suggested it to see if Yellow would back them up in case of war, they would have that option, if not, then they knew where they would stand.

Foolish agreed that Yellow would aid Blue if it came to it. Then, the idea to reset Bad was being discussed.

Scott: Also, I just want to add, in this scenario where we do kill Bad, what does that achieve? Other than a boost in ego.

Aimsey: That's... enough.

Foolish: Show him that we will fight back, that he can't just threaten 'hey I will extinct your faction' with no worry.

Aimsey: Yeah.

Scott: I'm just worried that will turn him into someone prepared for our jump and then come back harder. That's my... concern.

Scott proceeded to propose Yellow, Blue and the Factionless people move really far away without telling anyone on Green.

Foolish: But that means he wins!

Aimsey: He wins regardless, Foolish!

Scott: I feel like he would not win in that scenario, because that's what he wants, he wants a reaction, if we don't give it to him, he loses. He doesn't actually care about the castle, the Teal HQ or like anything physical. He cares about getting a riot out of you. And... us.

Scott has not interacted with Bad much, and yet he has been one of the closest people to clock what he wants out of this war situation. His reading people and intentions skills coming in again.

He does not think attacking Bad it's a good idea. He thinks that only gives him what he wants and that it can very much evolve into a much worse situation. He doesn't think it would solve the issue, just delay it until it escalates and becomes harder to solve.

Still, Aimsey seemed pretty set on the murder plan if Pangi did not give a good response regarding the war.

And then...

Scott: Also, if they do declare war, we should kill any of his pets.

Aimsey: Well- when that happened last time, Foolish was tracked for 3 hours.

Scott: Yeah, but in the scenario we're going for the killing, we may as well hit him hard.

King, your warrior is showing.

The same man who was disturbed at the fact that people dared to hit Therapy Dog and did not want to consider the possibility that he was killed later.

This does remind me of how the Keepers claimed that the memory wipe 'made him soft.'

It's this his ''not-so-soft'' side showing? It has showed up a little bit more than once during these meetings. It gives the impression that he does have a past of stepping low to get the job done, of not being all refusal on murder, to hit the enemy hard if given the chance and reached that point.

I'm so so intrigued by this. I really really want to know more of his backstory, more details, but I get that might be something to wait a little bit for, or if CC ever plans to give us more about this lore.

Side note, but Scott was rocking it during these two meetings, like gosh dang, slay.

[trippiexlove]

I Hate U

Author Note: Back to back one shots! Who am I?! This is a part three to my CARE one shots, with Josh and Solana. Read the first part linked here. Based off the song I Hate U by SZA <3. My master list is linked here.

Warning: Angst, profanity, talks of divorce, cheating.

Pairing: Jey Uso x Black OC (Solana/SZA)

Word Count: 4,574 (she longgg)

And if you wondered if I hate you (I do) Shitty of you to make me feel just like this What I would do to make you feel just like this

"I love you, Mommy," Mia whispered, her sleepy eyes fluttering. Solana's heart melted. It had been a whirlwind day, filled with laughter, games, and the delightful chaos of being back home after weeks on tour. Finally, the kids were settling down.

"I love you too, princess," Solana murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Mia's forehead. "Sleep tight. I'll see you bright and early."

She gently pulled the soft blanket up to Mia's chin, lingering for a moment to watch her daughter's peaceful breathing. With a quiet click, she slipped out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. Liam was already deep in slumber, his small form curled beneath the covers.

A wave of exhaustion washed over Solana as she entered her own room. She practically dove onto the bed, a sigh escaping her lips as the plush bedding enveloped her. The familiar comfort was a welcome balm after the constant motion of tour life.

Propping herself against the pillows, she reached for her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen. A flicker of anticipation turned to a quiet disappointment as she scanned her notifications. Nothing. No new messages, no missed calls. Her eyes narrowed slightly, a faint frown creasing her forehead.

She pulled up Josh's contact, her thumb instinctively pressing the call button. Just like the previous attempts, the phone rang and rang, finally defaulting to his voicemail. A knot of unease tightened in her chest. A full twenty-four hours of silence was unusual, even with the time difference. Josh was currently overseas, touring Europe to promote this year's WrestleMania, a fact she reminded herself of.

But the silence still felt...off. She tried to push down the nagging worry, telling herself he was simply busy. Still, the lack of communication left a hollow feeling in her stomach.

With a sigh, Solana blew out a breath, her gaze drifting towards the darkened window. She considered trying one more time, but the exhaustion was a heavy weight, pulling her down. Ultimately, she decided to let it go for tonight. Maybe he'd call in the morning. She set her phone on the nightstand, the glow of the screen fading into the darkness, and closed her eyes, hoping sleep would come quickly.

Josh threw back the shot, the familiar burn settling in his chest. He was tired as hell, the show was long and grueling. But the boys dragged him to the club. 

But he found himself at the bar, the boys somewhere off in the club doing god knows what. He felt his phone ring for the what felt like the hundredth time today. Looking down seeing Solana was calling again. 

He silenced the phone putting it in his back pocket. His attention was grabbed by a tap on his shoulder. He turned, a grin instantly placed on his face. 

"What you doing here sitting by yourself" Skai, the new girl on the roster who was called up recently. She tilted her head playfully, a smirk visible on her face. Josh eyes scanning over her curves, dressed in a tight crop top and mini skirt. 

"Just taking a breather," Josh replied, his gaze mirroring hers, tracing the contours of her figure. "Everybody else disappeared somewhere in this chaos."

"They always do," Skai said, sliding onto the stool next to him, her hip brushing against his. "So, you're all alone?"

"Looks that way," he said, signaling the bartender for another shot.

"A shame," she murmured, her eyes never leaving his. "Someone as good-looking as you shouldn't be alone."

He chuckled, the sound low and suggestive. "And what bout you? Alone, too?"

"No," her voice low and seductive, "I was waiting for you," she said, her voice barely a whisper, leaning closer. "What we drinking?"

"Whatever you want," he said, his eyes locking with hers. "It's your night."

"Then let's make it a good one," she said, her smile widening. "I know just the place to start." She stood up, her hand sliding down his arm, pulling him to his feet. "Come on."

It was late at night for Solana as she got the kids down to sleep. She been running around with them from the studio, meeting up with her mom for lunch, then back home. Solana was exhausted. But the overwhelming dread loomed over her all day. 

Josh still hasn't called. If it wasn't the post she seen from fans and other sites that highlights each show Josh was in, she would be worried. 

Truthfully she was beginning to get pissed off. Josh wasn't keeping his promise he made just a little while ago. 

The phone rang, the harsh, insistent tone cutting through the quiet of her apartment. Solana walked over to her bed. Seeing Josh's picture flash across her screen, she snatched it up, her heart pounding with a mixture of relief and apprehension. "Finally," she breathed, her voice tight. "Josh, where have you been? I've been calling."

A low, slightly muffled voice answered, "Hey, Sol. Sorry, baby. Been a crazy week."

"Crazy how? I've called you a dozen times," she pressed, her voice laced with worry and a hint of accusation. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he said, his voice sounding distant, almost detached. "Just... a lot goin' on. Had a show last night, then the guys wanted to grab drinks."

"Drinks? Josh, really?," she said, glancing at the phone. "Is that why you haven't been answering any of my messages."

"Look, I told you, it's been hectic," he said, his tone turning slightly defensive. "My phone was on silent. I aini't even realize you been callin'."

"Silent for days?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief. "Josh who you playin' with right now?"

"Solana, can we not do this right now?" he said, his voice edged with irritation. "I'm tired, I've had a long week."

"I was just worried," she said, her voice softening slightly.

"I'm fine," he repeated, his voice flat. "Just... busy."

"But you always make time," she said, her voice pleading. "Even when you're busy, you always call."

There was a brief pause, a heavy silence that hung between them. "Look," he said, his voice strained, before he could continue she heard some shuffling in the background. Followed by what seemed to be a girl's voice., "I gotta go. The guys are waiting."

"Wait, Josh—" she began, but the line went dead. The abrupt disconnect echoed in her ear, a cold, empty sound that mirrored the growing emptiness in her heart. She stared at the phone, her hand trembling, a knot of dread tightening in her stomach. His excuses felt flimsy, his voice distant, and the sudden end to the call left her with a chilling sense of unease. Something was wrong, she knew it. But she couldn't put her finger on what, exactly.

The racks of brightly colored dresses blurred past as Solana and Lyra navigated the bustling boutique. Laughter echoed between them, a welcome distraction from the gnawing worry that had settled in Solana's chest. They'd been on a mission, a much-needed girls' day out, punctuated by retail therapy and endless gossip.

"And then," Lyra said, her eyes twinkling, "he tried to tell me that I had to pay for the bill. Like you invited me, you fucking kidding me?"

Solana burst into laughter, the sound genuine for the first time in days. "Oh my god, Lyra. You have to break up with him."

"I know, right?" Lyra grinned, pulling a silk scarf from a display. "But he makes a mean margarita, so... trade-offs."

They settled into a restaurant for lunch, the aroma of food filling the air. Solana, finally feeling a sense of normalcy, confided in her friend. "It's just... Josh has been so distant," she said, stirring her drink. "He hasn't called in days, and when he does, it's like he's not even there."

"That's tour life, Sol," Lyra said, her voice reassuring. "It's hectic. You know that."

"I know," Solana sighed, "but it's different this time. He just... he sounds off. And he hung up on me the other night. Like, just fucking hung up."

"That's not like him," Lyra agreed, her brow furrowed. "Have you tried talking to him about it?"

"When I try, he just brushes me off," Solana said, frustration creeping into her voice. "He says he's busy, that I'm overreacting. Like I'm just some crazy ass bitch."

Suddenly, her phone buzzed repeatedly, the notifications flashing across the screen. "What's all that?"��Lyra asked, her eyes widening.

Solana picked up her phone, her brow furrowed. "I don't know," she said, scrolling through the notifications. "Just a bunch of fans tagging me in a post."

She tapped on one of the notifications, opening a post from a fan account. It was a blurry shot of a tattooed arm, holding a drink, the background a dimly lit bar. The caption read, Anyone else think this looks familiar?

Another tag led to a short video clip, a shaky pan of a crowded club, a familiar laugh echoing in the background. Then another, and another. Each post was a piece of a puzzle, a cryptic message that was suddenly becoming horrifyingly clear.

Solana's breath hitched, her eyes widening in disbelief. "What the fuck," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Lyra leaned closer, her expression turning serious. "What is it, Sol?"

Solana showed her the posts, her hand trembling. "It's that new girl Skai," she said, her voice tight. "And I think it's Josh."

Lyra's eyes widened, her expression mirroring Solana's shock. "Oh, Sol," she murmured, her voice filled with sympathy. "This is... fucked up."

"I don't understand," Solana said, her voice trembling. "What the fuck is this?"

"Sol, you need to talk to him," Lyra said, her voice firm. "You need to ask him about these posts. Don't let this shit fester. You deserve answers."

Solana nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. The laughter of moments ago was gone, replaced by a cold, hard knot of fear. She knew Lyra was right. She had to confront Josh, to demand the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

The phone rang, a jarring sound that sliced through the quiet of Solana's room. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the answer button, a mix of anger and dread swirling within her. Finally, she answered, her voice cold. "What?"

"Hey baby," Josh's voice came through the line, a forced cheeriness that grated on her nerves. "You good?"

"How do you think I am?" she retorted, her voice flat. "You haven't called in days."

"I know, I know, baby, I'm sorry," he said, his tone shifting to a placating one. "It's been fuckin' crazy here. Shows every night, travel, the whole nine yards. I was actually callin' to apologize bout hangin' up like that the other night. I was tired"

"Yeah, whatever," Solana cut him off, her voice laced with acid. "You're always 'busy,' always 'tired.' It's getting old, Josh."

"What's wit' the attitude, Sol?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion. 

"Attitude?" she scoffed. "Or I'm just tired of your bullshit."

"The fuck are you talkin' bout?" he asked, his voice rising slightly.

"Those pictures, Josh," she said, her voice tight. "Those posts. You and Skai. Getting real cozy. Real fucking close."

There was a long, heavy silence on the other end of the line. "What pictures?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Don't play dumb," she snapped. "The ones all over Instagram. You know damn well what I'm talking about."

"Solana, you're jumpin' to conclusions," he said, his voice smooth, a practiced tone of reassurance. "Skai's just a friend. Everybody went out that night."

"A friend?" she repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "A friend you're practically glued to in every fucking picture? A friend whose captions sound like some cheap ass romance novel?"

"Look, I don't know what you seein', but you're blowin' this way out of proportion," he said, his voice laced with annoyance. "It's just social media. You know how people like to twist shit."

"Twist shit?" she said, her voice shaking with rage. "I saw the pictures, Josh. I saw the fucking videos. I'm not blind, and I ain't fucking stupid."

"Solana, you trippin' out right now," he said, his voice dismissive. "I would never do anything to hurt you. You know that."

"Do I?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. She wanted to believe him, she desperately wanted to, but the images flashed in her mind, a stark contrast to his smooth words.

"Yes, you fucking do," he said, his voice hard. "You're my wife, Sol. I love you."

She hesitated, the words hanging in the air, a fragile promise that felt increasingly hollow. "I... I don't know what to believe," she said, her voice trembling.

"Just trust me," he said, his voice softening. "You know I won't lie to you."

"I... I can't do this right now," she said, her voice thick with emotion. 

"Solana—" he began, but she hung up, the sharp click echoing in her ear. She tossed the phone onto the bed, her hands shaking. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She just felt a wave of nausea and a crushing sense of betrayal.

Her phone began to ring again, Josh's name flashing across the screen. She ignored it, letting it ring until it went to voicemail. Then it rang again. And again. Finally, with a trembling hand, she switched her phone off, the sudden silence a heavy, suffocating blanket. She curled up on the bed, tears streaming down her face, the weight of his betrayal crushing her.

The movie played on, a cheerful animated world filling the living room with light and sound. Solana sat on the couch, her children nestled on either side of her, but her mind was miles away. The silence from Josh was deafening, a constant, gnawing reminder of his absence.

She idly scrolled through Instagram, trying to distract herself, when a flood of notifications appeared. Her heart skipped a beat. She was tagged in a post. Not just any post, but one from Wrestling News Now, one of the biggest wrestling news pages on the platform.

A wave of dread washed over her. She hesitated, her finger hovering over the notification, before finally tapping it. The post loaded, the headline screaming across the screen: WRESTLING SUPERSTAR JEY USO CAUGHT IN INFIDELITY SCANDAL!

Below the headline was a carousel of photos, each one a brutal blow to her already fragile heart. The first showed Josh and Skai, their hands intertwined, leaving a crowded nightclub. The second, a grainy shot taken from a distance, captured them dancing intimately, their bodies pressed close. The third, a clear, sharp photo, showed them kissing passionately in front of a hotel. The final image was a candid shot, seemingly taken in the hotel lobby window, showing them cuddled together, Skai's head resting on Josh's chest.

The comments were a mix of fan speculation and outright accusations. "Is this the end of Josh and Solana?" one fan wrote. "He's been playing her this whole tour" another commented. The comments section was a chaotic mix of shock, anger, and pity.

Solana's breath hitched, her eyes widening in disbelief. The images were undeniable, the evidence damning. The world around her seemed to fade away, the cheerful cartoon characters on the screen mocking her pain.

Her hands trembled as she scrolled through the comments, each one a sharp, stinging reminder of her public humiliation. She felt a wave of nausea wash over her, a crushing weight in her chest. How could he? How could he do this to her, to their children?

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the screen. She felt a burning rage, a fierce protectiveness towards her children. She wouldn't let him do this to them. She wouldn't let him destroy their family.

She gently excused herself, leaving the room and retreating to the solitude of her bedroom. She needed to be alone, to process the shock, the pain, the betrayal. Her phone vibrated, Josh's name flashing across the screen. She stared at it, her hand trembling. She considered answering, demanding answers, but the words caught in her throat. She couldn't face him, not yet. She couldn't bear to hear his lies, his excuses.

She silenced the phone, letting it fall onto the bed. The silence was heavy, suffocating, but it was a silence she desperately needed. She curled up on the bed, her body shaking with sobs, the images of Josh and Skai burned into her mind.

The days that followed were a blur of tears, anger, and disbelief. Lyra had been a lifeline, a constant presence in the aftermath of the scandal. She'd brought over takeout, listened patiently to Solana's tearful rants, and even taken the kids off her hands, giving her precious moments of solitude.

Now, days later, a strange calm had settled over the house, a heavy, suffocating silence that hung in the air. Solana stood in the kitchen, staring blankly at the countertop, the silence punctuated only by the faint hum of the refrigerator. The house felt empty, devoid of the laughter and chaos that usually filled it.

The front door creaked open, the sound echoing through the stillness. Josh stumbled in, his shoulders slumped, bags dropping with a heavy thud by the door. He scanned the living room, his eyes searching, before his gaze landed on Solana in the kitchen.

"Solana," he called out, his voice hoarse, a mix of exhaustion and desperation.

She didn't turn, didn't acknowledge him. She continued stand at the counter, her back to him, jaw clenched, her body rigid.

"Solana, please," he tried again, his voice cracking slightly.

She remained silent, her back to him, as if he were a ghost. He took a few hesitant steps closer, his heart pounding in his chest. "Solana, I'm..."

He reached out, his hand hovering near her shoulder, but she flinched away, her body tensing. "Don't fucking touch me," she said, her voice low and dangerous.

"Sol, I need to explain," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion.

She finally turned, her eyes burning with a cold fury. "Explain what, Josh? Explain how you fucked another woman? Explain how you humiliated me, how you betrayed our family?"

He flinched, his face etched with pain. "I know I fucked up, Sol. I know I hurt you. I'm so fuckin' sorry. I don't know what the hell I was thinkin'."

"Don't give me that bullshit," she spat, her voice rising. "You knew exactly what the fuck you were doin'. You were enjoying every goddamn minute of it."

He stepped closer, his eyes pleading. "Please baby, just let me try to fix this. Let me make it right."

Solana scoffed, the sound bitter and harsh. "Fix this? You can't fix this, Josh. You broke us. You broke me."

She turned to leave, but he reached out, his hand gripping her arm. "Solana, don't walk away from me," he begged, his voice cracking. "Don't do this to us. Don't do this to our family."

That was the spark. Solana exploded.

"Don't do this to our family?!" she screamed, her voice shaking with rage. "You did this to our family! Nigga you destroyed it! You and your bitch!"

He recoiled, his face paling. "Solana, please, don't say that."

"Oh, but it's okay for you to do it, right?" she screamed, tears streaming down her face. "It's okay for you to fuck around, to lie to my face, to treat me like I'm nothing?"

"No, Sol, that's not what I meant," he pleaded, his voice desperate. "I love you. I fucking love you. I'll do whatever to make this right. I'll quit wrestling, I'll do anything. Just please, don't leave me."

"It's too late, Josh," she said, her voice trembling, but firm. "It's too fucking late. You crossed a line, and I can't forgive you. I won't forgive you."

She pulled away from him, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and determination. "I want a divorce," she said, the words cutting through the air like a knife.

He stared at her, his face a mask of shock and disbelief. "No," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "No, you don't mean that shit."

"Yes, I fucking do," she said, her voice hard. "I'm done, Josh. I'm done with the lies, I'm done with the betrayal. I'm done with you."

He reached out, his hands grasping hers, his grip tight. "Solana, please, don't do this. I'm begging you. Don't take my family away from me. I need you. I need our kids."

She looked down at his hands, his grip on her wrists, then looked back up at him, her eyes filled with a cold, unwavering resolve. "You should have thought about that before you went and fucked that bitch"

She yanked her hands away, turned, and walked away, leaving him standing there, his world crumbling around him.

The news of Solana and Josh's separation broke like a wildfire, consuming every gossip column and social media feed. Fans speculated, debated, and judged, their opinions ranging from sympathy for Solana to vitriol directed at Josh. The hashtag #TeamSolana trended worldwide, a testament to the outpouring of support for her.

Solana tried to shield her children from the storm of media attention, but the whispers and the pitying glances followed them everywhere. She focused on maintaining a sense of normalcy for Mia and Liam, filling their days with laughter and love, determined to protect their innocence as best she could.

One afternoon, Solana pulled up to the brick building. After walking in into the building, she maneuver through the long hall, going into the room she's been in for a few months now. The two lawyers, one representing Solana, the other representing Josh, already sitting at the table, their faces grim. Solana's heart sank. This was it. The official end of her marriage.

The sterile office, with its sterile white walls and minimalist decor, felt like a tomb. Solana sat opposite Josh, a chasm of unspoken words and simmering anger separating them. Her lawyer, Ms. Davis, a no-nonsense woman with a sharp gaze, sat beside her. Opposite them, Josh sat stiffly, his lawyer, Mr. Stone, a smooth-talking man with a practiced smile, at his side.

"Mr. and Mrs. Fatu," Ms. Davis began, her voice firm. "We are here to finalize the terms of the divorce. Custody of Maya and Liam will be joint, with equal time spent with both parents."

Mr. Stone nodded in agreement. "A fair and equitable arrangement for both parties."

Josh looked at Solana, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and a desperate attempt at conciliation. "Solana, I know I messed up. I'm... I'm so sorry. I want to make this as easy as possible for you and the kids."

Solana's gaze was icy. "Easy?" she repeated, her voice laced with sarcasm. "You think this can be 'easy' after what you did?"

"I know I can't undo what happened," he said, his voice low, "but I want to be a good father. I want to be there for Mia and Liam."

"Then be there," she said, her voice sharp. "That's all I ask. Be a father. I don't need your damn money." her brows furrowed.

Mr. Stone cleared his throat. "Mrs. Fatu, while we understand your emotional state, we must address the financial aspects of the divorce."

"There's nothing to address," Solana said, her voice firm. "I don't want anything from him. I make my own money. I don't need his."

Josh's eyes widened slightly. "Solana, please," he said, his voice pleading. "Let me take care of you. Let me provide for the kids."

"I can provide for my kids just fine," she retorted, her voice hard. "I don't need your damn handouts, Josh. I don't need your pity. I just want this shit to be over with."

Ms. Davis leaned forward, her expression serious. "Mrs. Fatu, while your independence is admirable, it's essential to consider the future. Child support, even if not strictly necessary, can ensure the children's continued comfort and security."

"I appreciate your concern, Ms. Davis," Solana said, her voice softening slightly, "but I'm not interested in a financial battle. I want joint custody, and I want a clean break. That's all." she stated unmoving.

Josh looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and a flicker of something akin to admiration. "Solana, please, let me do something," he pleaded. "Let me at least... help with the kids' college fund, or something."

"Fine," Solana said, her voice tight. "But that's it. Nothing else. No alimony, no settlements, no strings attached."

Mr. Stone nodded, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Very well," he said. "We can finalize the terms accordingly. Joint custody, equal time with the children, and a designated college fund contribution from Mr. Reyes. No other financial obligations."

And so, the terms were set. Solana walked out of the office, her head held high, her heart heavy, but with a newfound sense of empowerment. She had walked away from the wreckage of her marriage with her dignity intact, her independence unwavering. She would rebuild her life, not on the foundation of his wealth, but on the strength of her own talent and resilience. 

As she got into her car, the tears she'd held back finally fell. The weight of the divorce settled in, and she sobbed, a release she knew she needed. After a while, the tears subsided. She wiped her face, promising herself from that day forward, she'd put herself and her kids first.

The studio felt different now, a strange mix of familiar and alien. The air hummed with a low-grade tension, a reflection of the storm that had raged within her. Solana sat at the piano, her fingers tentatively tracing the keys, the melody of a new song swirling in her head.

"I Hate U," she whispered, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.

It wasn't just a song anymore; it was an exorcism, a raw, unfiltered expression of the pain, the anger, the betrayal she had endured. Every note, every lyric, was a piece of her soul laid bare, a testament to the woman she was becoming.

Six months had passed since the divorce. Six months of healing, of rediscovering herself, of learning to navigate the complexities of single motherhood. It hadn't been easy. There were days when the grief threatened to consume her, days when the loneliness felt unbearable. But she persevered, for her children, for herself.

And now, she was back on stage, the roar of the crowd washing over her like a tidal wave. The energy was electric, a palpable sense of anticipation hanging in the air. They had welcomed her back with open arms, their cheers a balm to her soul.

"This next song," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "is for anyone who's ever felt lost, anyone who's ever felt broken. This song is for me."

The first notes of I Hate U filled the arena, a raw, emotional melody that resonated deep within her. As she sang, the raw emotions behind the song consumed her. The pain, the anger, the betrayal, all of it poured out with each note. Tears streamed down her face, blurring the lights, but she continued to sing, her voice raw with emotion.

The crowd, initially stunned by her vulnerability, fell silent, a hush descending upon the arena. Then, slowly, tentatively, they began to sing along, their voices a chorus of support, of understanding. With each verse, the energy in the room shifted, transforming from a concert into a collective catharsis. Solana, lost in the music, felt a sense of release, a sense of liberation. She was no longer just a victim, she was a survivor. She was stronger than she ever thought she could be.

As the final notes faded, the crowd erupted in applause, a thunderous ovation that shook the very foundations of the arena. Solana stood at the edge of the stage, tears streaming down her face, but this time, they were tears of joy, tears of triumph. She had faced her demons, she had bared her soul, and she had come out stronger, more resilient than ever before.

And in that moment, she knew that she was finally free.

If you would like to leave a request go comment on this link post. Check out my master list for other one shots and my other stories.

Tag list: if you want to be added to the tag list comment below!

@xbriexx , @mindairy , @tribalchief2112 , @theusotwinzcom , @yana3sworld

#jey uso#jey uso smut#jey uso x black fem oc#jey uso x black oc#jey uso x black reader#jeyuso#main event jey uso#wwe

[nocturnal-thoughts-mp3]

Bucky Barnes X Reader - Road Trip Head canons!

Notes:

Y'all I'm having too much fun with this and it's my SECOND POST. I guess it's better to live in delusions together 🤷‍♀️

So this is like, what I imagine would happen if you were to go on a road trip together!! It's been so sunny out lately and I'm really excited for spring/summer time. I've even been listening to my Girly Summer Vibes playlist.

Based off the fictional character created by Stan Lee & Marvel, I do not own the rights to it. The ideas though, they are mine!

Word count: 820

Warnings: MAJOR fluff hehehehehe🫡

Enjoy my darlings

================================================

First off, him just ASKING you to go on a road trip would be a whole process, he's just a little guy after all

He would do so much research to find the perfect place to go to. Eventually he would land on this beautiful national park that's just a little over a days drive away (he planned that obviously)

He finally builds up the courage to ask you and obviously you say yes! You guys start to plan together when you will leave, where you will stay and of course, what snacks to bring, that sorta thing.

You pack your bag for a week (As this road trip has turned into more of a week getaway). You've both decided to leave around noon the first day, stay the night in a motel, then leave early in the morning to continue the drive. Then, you spend a solid 2 full days at the park, and do the same on the way down, drive then motel and then more driving.

Bucky tells you that the hotel in the park has a pool so you bring along a couple bathing suits. He also tells you that he's made an itinerary of what you can do each day (By itinerary, he means that he's only planned a couple things to do per day, which means loads of time to explore or relax). These things include dinner, a hike and other things.

You leave that day with butterflies in your stomach and a coffee in your hand. Ready to traverse the country with your favourite super soldier. He's got coffee too and eventually he reluctantly gave you the aux cord.

You play your favourite road trip tunes and have the sun roof open the whole time. Eventually you force Bucky to stop for slushies, one of you gets red, the other blue (somehow your mouths get purple?😉)

You guys chat about everything and anything. You learn about Bucky's past and in exchange for his trust, you tell him about yours. There's a sense of understanding and comfort in the air as you two confide in each other.

You force Bucky to stop when the sun starts to set so you can get a good photo, he reluctantly pulls over (he loves how passionate you are about it) and watches as you climb out the sun roof to get a photo of the beautiful colours in the sky. He thinks it's adorable!

You finally arrive at the motel around 6pm ish. You check into the room and surprise surprise there's only one bed (Bucky definitely didn't tell them they only needed one)

You get ready for bed and Bucky insists you take the bed and he'll take the couch. But you argue back that you don't mind. (Both of you are idiots and need to communicate. You both clearly want to share the bed)

Eventually Bucky 'reluctantly' shares the bed with you.

You wake up wrapped in Bucky's arms and decide that you don't want to leave yet and fall back asleep (He was awake and didn't want to get up from this heaven either)

Around 10am (much later than you originally intended) you both get up and leave the motel.

The rest of the drive flies by with more stories being told and songs being sung.

Once you get to the park hotel, you immediately want to drop your stuff off in the room and Bucky obliges. Then you both go explore.

After seeing the park, you head back to the hotel for the first of Bucky's plans. Dinner.

After a very romantic dinner, you both head back up to your room and put on a movie. (But did you actually end up watching it? Who knows.)

Even though this hotel room has two beds, you both end up in the same one each night, yearning for closeness.

The next day, you go on the hike Bucky had planned for you. The sights of this park are amazing and you stop almost every 5 minutes to get some pictures (You even forced Bucky to be in a couple of them because you "didn't want it to look like you were the only one here" (But in all honesty, you just wanted photos of the man you love)

You have a wonderful time.

On the last night, you and Bucky go stargazing. It's the most amazing and romantic date you've ever been on. The sights were breathtaking (even though Bucky spent most of the night looking at you gazing up at the sky)

Unfortunately, your getaway finally comes to an end. You make the trip back home and when you finally return to the compound, you and Bucky are closer than ever. You even start to spend nights in each others' rooms (beds more like it)

You immediately start planning your next road trip but Bucky doesn't know if his bank account can take it.

[vossprime]

20 Questions: Writing Edition

Tagged by the Inquisition herself ( @inquisitornocturn ), thank you, this looks so fun!

How many works do you have on ao3?

23!

What’s your total ao3 word count?

102,210

What are your top five fics by kudos?

Mechanical; Medicinal (Rogue Trader)

Absolute / Obedience (BG3)

Systematical; Sacrificial (Rogue Trader)

I don't know where to put my hands (Metro 2033)

Blood in the Water (WH40K)

What fandoms do you write for?

WH40K, broadly speaking.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I try to respond to all of them simply because they spark an endless well of joy in me and most often inspire me to say something in return. Also whenever I comment I love replies as well, so I try to keep that going.

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Once I fucking sit down and continue Blackwater Days you will all see-

From my recent ones, on the principle of want (RT, Achilleas x Heinrix) comes to mind. Not for the plot, necessarily, which is more sorrowful than angsty, but the last line:

For a moment Heinrix wants to kiss him awake, kiss him goodbye.  The Interrogator breathes once, twice, then turns on his heel and leaves the room.

It was a deliberate choice to contrast Heinrix with his title here, that was my special little treat to myself. I gain another health bar anytime someone points it out.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Ironic, given the title, but Bellicose Hearts (Horus Heresy). It was written as a gift and a challenge for @mortallyperfecttimemachine and the theme was humor and fluff, so it ended on a nice note. A photo together. The remembrancers are happy. Keeler is there. Karkasy is alive. Isstvan is far away.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not directly! My comments are locked to registered accounts only, that seems to dissuade the obvious bots and trolls. Always fond of the ask I got that was just a "👎" tho.

Do you write smut?

In theory yes, in practice I have been told my smut is just character studies in disguise. My most popular fics stay the ones that were exclusively written with my [redacted] though.

Do you write crossovers?

Not really - most often they don't hold any appeal for me.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No, but I'm already being vagued /j - SOON.

What’s your all time favourite ship?

You're asking someone who has a brain like a sieve and triple-wields ships until polyamory is the only sensible solution :D

What’s the wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

None. I plan to see everything through. If it takes 10 years, it takes 10 years. Farseer grindset.

What are your writing strengths?

Prose, poetry, evocative imagery.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue. Who came up with this. Is it not enough to communicate through 4-6 intricately crafted metaphors and call it a day? Hell world.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

Provided I am writing in English, I provide translation in the footnotes and try not to have it drag on for too long. I do enjoy some language variety in fic, though. Dirty Talk in another language? Elite. Sadly I come from the language the absolute least suited for writing this.

First fandom you wrote for?

The first one I published for was Metro 2033, the book. The first one I wrote was for a mobile game called The Arcana. Don't judge me, a bitch saw tarot themes and a pointy-toothed nonbinary vivisection freak and decided he just might. A true freak from day one - you can tell why I like Tervantias.

Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

I'm going to level with you. It will always be the last one. I grow and evolve with each piece and whatever I have last put out will be my pride and joy at that very moment. However, Blackwater Days (which I still plan to bring past chapter 1, it's just sitting in my drafts all disjointed and none of like 5 chapters empty but none ready either) will always be close to my heart for how much planning, fantasizing and worldbuilding happened around it. Those three hour discussions with my roommate on military strategy are sacred.

Tagging: Let me gather my irl squad for a second: @definitely-not-iorveth @mortallyperfecttimemachine , @goofgoofdildo , @ineadhyn , I'd be really interested to hear if you feel like it!

[pikuniku53353358]

Rain world + the amazing digital circus = glitch world!

II don't plan to develop this AU any further, so if you like the concept, you can start promoting it to the masses so that more people know about au. You draw art, create memes, and so on, making sure to put the hashtag "glitch world au" under all posts. The future of this au lies only in your hands. You can find out more about the plot below.

I'm telling you about this au's lore:

WARNING! I ran the entire text through a translator because English is not my native language, so there may be some mistakes in it. I hope they won't be critical. Okay, now I'm explaining to you for the local lore. Madness of Entertainment was one of those iterators who, even after the departure of the Ancients, remained faithful to the task, and he tried to solve it primarily because of that... Madness was lonely. A naive, slightly goofy, kind-hearted iterator. Everyone considered him an oddball and did not want to communicate. So, spending his days alone with his thoughts, at some point he thought of creating a large simulation, where the local rules would state that the void sea would not be able to turn you into an echo, to stuff the consciousness of all beings who want to ascend into this very simulation, and, in fact, that's all. Madness sent a triple confirmation, all the iterators in the world were alarmed, but they were not happy with the arguments their colleague came to and only became more convinced of his eccentricity. By the very concept of ascension, it means that your physical shell disintegrates, and your mind, as it were, ascends, turns out to be beyond all that exists, in fact, it turns out to be at the point of no return. How can the simulation convey this if no one knows what lies beyond this very point of no return? It will not be an ascension from this world, but some kind of nonsense. And besides, iterators are trying to find a solution to a great problem in THEIR REAL WORLD, and not in some kind of incomprehensible simulation done in a hurry. The ideas of Madness were rejected, and he could have fallen into despair if one of the iterators had not seriously said: "Besides, our Creators have long since left. Who are you working so hard for anyway? For these stupid creatures crawling through our structure?" Something clicked in his head, and the idea of giving lower beings a path to enlightenment stuck firmly in his mind. And he decided to start saving creatures... Other iterators located next to it. Because in the local group, where Madness was, how can I put it mildly?.. There were only dumb cattle. In fact, only Madness itself was normal there. Sea of Despair was particularly distinguished from this group. This person was very fond of creating various creatures, especially scavengers, but at the same time had sick sadistic habits and therefore she could calmly start beating her creations naturally or worse. Having probed all this, Madness began trying to establish contact with all this artificially created horde of scavengers through observers and force them to go towards his target so that the iterator could move the consciousness of all creatures into the simulation there. But Sea wasn't stupid either, her watchers had spotted the aliens, and so she decided to play along with Madness plan. She allowed most of her scavengers to come to someone else's installation, and then, through her observers, gave the command that they begin to destroy someone else's installation, preferably from the inside. The scavengers followed the iterator's orders and during this terrorist attack were able to damage some of Madness systems responsible for his artificial intelligence, making the already slightly strange iterator even more crazy. He forgot his real name and gave himself the nickname "Caine".

Sea decided to stop there, considering that she was able to take revenge on this naive freak and called everyone away from someone else's installation, leaving Caine alone with himself again. The iterator was still burning with the idea of saving the lower beings, but now he wanted to move them into the simulation not for the sake of lifting everyone up, but for the sake of everyone having "fun" there. Yes, Caine began to believe that everyone in this world lacked "joy," and he wanted to fix it. He will come up with all sorts of adventures for all newcomers, feed them well, and in general, the creatures there will live in peace and harmony and blah blah blah. Well, then, willy-nilly, all sorts of slugcats and lizards began to come to him from time to time, which Caine safely irrevocably moved into the simulation, before erasing most of their memory.

This is if we talk about the general lore and Caine, and now I'll tell you about the rest of the characters. Pomni, Gangle and Zooble are the creations of another crazy iterator from a local group named Nothing Is Perfect. This iterator is a fierce perfectionist and has been trying in vain all this time to create the perfect being. But as you know, it's no use. Gangle and Zooble were the first to enter the simulation. The iterator had previously held everyone hostage, locked up in his room, literally chaining all the poor things in chains. But Zooble, as a stronger being, was able to get out, Gangle helped, and together they escaped from this madhouse. But Gangle was still chained up, Zooble couldn't untangle them, so they came to Caine, and when he saw Gangle's condition, he counted... That chains are already the last century for fashion and beauty, I replaced heavy chains with light ribbons for the mouse, in fact, thus freeing the poor thing from these shackles.

Pomni, the most recent at the time got into the simulation. And she was able to get out of the installation on her own. It was thanks to her tail that slugcat managed to fight back against its creator. In fact, this tail is a separate organism, for the most part, Pomni is able to control it, but if this reptile gets into a rage... That's it, no one will be able to stop this crazy limb. According to the law of meanness, it so happened that the tail also turned out to be very similar in appearance to the scattered ones, so she is now even more afraid of him, despite that it was he who, in fact, was able to save his mistress's life. Speaking of the scattered ones. Since Caine hadn't checked his simulation for possible errors all this time, it eventually turned out that if a creature's hunger, happiness, or anything else greatly exceeded its normal status, an error would occur and the simulation would turn the creature into a fig, you know what, that is, those scattered ones creatures. Which Caine then sends to the void sea, where no one else has seen them.

Jax is one of the creations of Sea of Despair, and I think it's clear from his scars that the scavenger went a little crazy during his stay with his creator. He got to Caine by accident when he was doing the iterator's next assignment. After Jax got into the simulation, they were able to remove the stitches that had been sewn to his mouth all this time, and more or less patched up the wounds. Unfortunately, Caine couldn't fix his sanity... Kinger was a representative of a rare species of deer. An endangered species. And one of the iterators of the local group wanted to help these poor devils in preserving the population. The idiot's name was Four Rays. To all the individuals that Ray could find, he, with the help of observers, put special sensors on their heads, like for tracking. But most of the observers did it carelessly, breaking half of the deer's skulls, damaging their brains in every possible way, and so on. As you can imagine, this has only caused the population to shrink further. Kinger was lucky. His brain wasn't badly damaged, mostly affecting his memory. Now the deer couldn't remember anything very well. Together with his beloved, Kinger came to Caine. Due to the fact that this type of deer was relatively lower and smaller than the original, they were able to climb through the opening into the structure. The inspectors noticed these two, notified Caine about it, and then he was able to remotely move them. Ragatha was affected by the last iterator in the local group, which is now dead. His name was Enlightened Sky, I couldn't think of what exactly caused him to die, but his structure eventually collapsed, just like it happened to Moon. Ragatha lived in a region close to the sky and was badly damaged during the collapse. The debris was flying, there was a lot of dust, and Ragatha miraculously managed to survive.

However, in the process, she received a huge wound on her back, which also hurt a lot. Her spine also cracked a little at that moment, so the poor thing could barely walk at all. But she still managed to crawl to Caine, moved into the simulation, and there the iterator gave her a cloak to hide this terrible wound and a bow, purely so that Ragatha would not be too sad.

[miifu666]

What was the destined ones reaction to learning that yingshan was the reincarnation of his past life’s lover? Does he wonder if his feelings are just left over from wukong?

HELLO HELLOOO

Anonie i wish i can throw you rn because i have been WAITING for someone to ask me THISSSS 😫‼️‼️‼️ILY ANONIEEE. ALSO THIS IS LOOOOONGGG

He had learned about it near the end of their journey, he found scrolls of Suklha's stories and sketches of the mysterious lady. Add that with Bajie's stories and his interaction towards Yingshan. Safe to say, it didnt take a lot for him to connect the dots.

In my headcanon, Destined one chose this journey himself. He wanted to show his community, who always labeled him as that mute and always in the background monkey, that he accomplished far greater things than those who barked out orders. There had been plenty of other monkeys who tried to complete this journey, even the old monkey himself. But none succeed.

Destined one chose to do it, to seek his own identity and face his fears of the world. To diminish the label his community has given him. Hence why he started this journey, so similar to the monkey king hmm?

Throughout the journey, He grew attached to Yingshan. Even at the start till the end, he couldn't stop the flame in his heart. It didn't help that Bajie openly mocks him for "melting around Suklha" or Yingshan as he meant it. It only added fuel to the already ignited flame.

He saw scrolls of her past self, heard stories, and experienced it himself. With a good intention, he decided to keep it a secret from Yingshan. Wanting to see if these feelings grow more each day or subside after this newfound knowledge.

Well.. he wouldn't be married to her if it was the latter

After knowing his feelings continued on, he felt conflicted. It's like he finally solved the puzzle, the patterns in his life, the tragedy, and now his journey. It's all written down, his DESTINY was already written.

The paranoia, of realizing everything you do is already planned. Even picking gourds and choosing how you walked, its all planned by the fates. The thought is eating him up.

He couldn't stop staring at Yingshan, the fact that she woke up around the same time he did. it's like he was already chosen. A part of him wants to know if she could gain some of Suklha's memory to help him understand this, but deep down, he knows it'll destroy him more.

He almost stopped his journey. Almost dragged Yingshan down in a darkened cabin. Almost try and persuade her to run away, to live a life that she wanted. To just leave the chapter unfinished.

He's afraid he won't be himself. Afraid once he absorbed all the relics, its just going to be their past selves continuing their lives while their reincarnation gets trapped in the back of their minds. Bodies being manipulated by spirits. Afraid that once this journey ends, he won't be himself, living the life that he chose. instead acting as a puppet to fulfill what he was meant to be.

He deserves to be normal for once, to stop letting others control his life, his reputation. His destiny.

He expected she would try and stop him. To convince him on finishing the journey. Just as all creatures are woven into his life would do. Its all a simulation.

But she didnt

She only smiled back at him, asking him if he would like a few days off. Or even months. The unknown is scary, she states. It's not a bad thing if he needs some time to process it. She wasn't forcing him to continue, to tell him to finish his journey afraid

She told him to take a break. He must be tired. And once his mind has calmed down, he could tell her which route he decided. She told him that she trusts his choices.

It was like the cycle was broken. He realized, maybe Yingshan was created to accompany him. Not everything in his life was already arranged, he has a small bit of freedom. After all, He hadn't received the monkey king's memory nor ambition when he met her. He was being given a choice.

And when the time came, once he defeated the broken shell of Wukong. He couldn't feel his body. His mind is still processing the floods of memories inserted into his mind. He can see it, his past self. The renowned monkey king moving his hands, gently wiping specks of debris on Yingshan's cheeks. He compliments her of her unchanging beauty since he lost her.

Destined one felt his heart tighten. This is it. Its where everything will be decided. Should Yingshan recover Suklha's memories, Destined one would only be a puppet to his past self. His current personality and character discarded, only to be replaced by the monkey king. He felt the ache spread through his whole body. He had never felt this helpless before.

To surrender himself to whatever higher beings wanted him to do.. its.. pretty degrading.

But his heart jumped when Yingshan replied, her eyes searching everywhere in his posessed mind. Asking if he's okay, if Destined one needed water, if he saw something that she didnt. She didn't remember.

It was as if his crisis was concluded, she didn't have her past memories. Only he did, he can choose to love her. She chooses to love him for himself. He can choose to live his life as he wanted, he wont life his whole life knowing Yingshan only sees Sun Wukong in him. She only sees her partner, The Destined one, Yuan fen, Tian su.

He didn't have to continue his fate. The Destined one.. was free.

As he saw the disheartening look on his face, an expression his past self plastered on as a reply. He could feel himself regaining control. His past self dissipating, satisfied with the closure of his past lover being officially gone, before letting Destined one control his body again.

The first thing Yingshan saw after she asked such things, is a bawling Destined one. Gripping her tight. His scarred and calloused knuckles turned whiter than before. His words spouting his fears, of being replaced, of continuing a written destiny, of not being seen as his own person, of feeling like he was forced to love her. His hands ever so grateful, entwined itself between Yingshan's and held it to his cheek. Savoring the warmth it brings.

Her hands, calloused and rough. brings a sense of peace to him. He found his peace now. To know that even before he attained the final relic, he already choose to love her. Just as she choose to love him as himself. Not as Sun Wukong, just as Tian su

I think since then, Destined one continued on with a new name. His interests are vastly different from the Sun Wukong, and he thinks differently, too. There are some similarities, but he's trying his best not to ponder too much.

For example, Sun Wukong's favorite fruit is peaches, Destined one loves Figs. Wukong prefers to wear heavy and bright clothes, Destined one prefers light and little to no decorations if its unnecessary. They're both different to each their own.

[reveryfics]

another req !!!

more scott lang, who could've known? male reader, too! wow. no barbed tails this time, i promise

insect mutant reader ??

stag beetle specifically. (horns/antlers, maybe wings on their back??) like, spanning from their shoulders to their thighs, maybe touching the floor. any scenario really,, if it's just fluff then maybe including the other avengers (social area) !!

scott lang, who would've guessed

dearly, beloved (sappy, i know)

🪲 anon

Bug Boy

Scott Lang x Male Reader

Summary: While hanging around the Avengers tower, Scott is surprised to see a member he never noticed before.

A/N: Went with a green rainbow stag beetle. I apologize this took so long, been working on a more full length project, but expect to start on more requests soon.

TW: Fluff

Scott drifted through the polished corridors of Avengers Tower, a rare, tranquil day stretching before him like an untouched canvas. The usual cacophony of superhero activity was muted; Captain Marvel was off-planet, Thor was… well, Thor was somewhere in the cosmos, and even Stark had retreated to his lab, leaving a blissful silence in his wake. Scott, in his perpetual state of amiable bewilderment, had decided to explore, a pastime he indulged in whenever the opportunity arose.

He'd wandered for a while, a soft, aimless journey, when a faint, rhythmic humming caught his attention. It was a peculiar sound, a delicate vibration that resonated deep within the walls. Intrigued, he followed the sound, tracing it to a set of double doors tucked away in a less frequented wing of the tower. He pushed them open, and the humming intensified, revealing a lush, verdant space bathed in warm, filtered sunlight.

It was a greenhouse, a miniature ecosystem thriving within the steel and glass confines of the tower. Exotic plants sprawled across tiered shelves, their leaves a vibrant tapestry of greens and purples. Venus flytraps snapped lazily at unseen insects, and a multitude of beetles, glittering like living jewels, crawled over moss-covered logs. But it wasn't the plants or the beetles that held Scott captive. It was you.

You stood amidst the greenery, your back to him, and from your upper back, extending down to your lower back, sprouted a magnificent set of wings. They were large, intricate, and iridescent, resembling the delicate, translucent wings of a massive beetle. The humming Scott had heard was the gentle flutter of these wings.

He did a double take, his jaw slack. He blinked, then blinked again, trying to process the sight before him. Several beetles, small and iridescent, buzzed past Scott, their antennae twitching as if they were scrutinizing him. They circled him, then returned to you, their movements almost playful.

"They seem to like you," you murmured, your voice soft and melodic. You turned, and a warm smile spread across your face, illuminating the greenhouse with an even brighter light. Scott was speechless, his mind struggling to form coherent thoughts.

"Uh… wow," he finally managed, his voice a breathy whisper. "Those… those are… incredible." He gestured vaguely towards your wings, his eyes wide with awe.

You chuckled, a light, airy sound. "They're part of me," you said, gently touching one of the intricate veined wings. "Like your suit and your ants, I have a connection with them, the beetles I mean."

Scott's eyes darted to the beetles crawling over your hands, then back to your wings. "Yeah, but… you don't need a suit," he blurted out, his mind racing. "You just… you just are."

"That's right," you replied, a hint of amusement in your voice. "They're a natural extension of myself."

"That's… that's amazing," Scott stammered, his gaze lingering on your wings. "I mean, I have to have this whole rig, you know? The suit, the helmet, the… the Pym Particles. You just… you just talk to them."

"We understand each other," you said, gesturing to the beetles. "They have their own language, their own way of communicating. Just like your ants."

Scott's mind was reeling. He began to talk about his ants, their complex social structures, their ability to work together, their loyalty. He described their intricate communication methods, the pheromones they used to convey messages, the way they formed bridges and rafts. You listened intently, your eyes sparkling with interest, occasionally interjecting with questions about their behavior and abilities.

As he spoke, Scott's eyes were drawn to the subtle details he hadn't noticed before. The delicate, scale-like patterns on your hands, shoulders, and neck, shimmering like the shell of a green rainbow stag beetle. It was a subtle, almost imperceptible detail, but it added to the ethereal beauty that surrounded you.

"You're… you're really something else," Scott said, his voice thick with admiration. "You're… you're beautiful. I mean, those wings, those scales, it's just… wow."

You laughed, a soft, melodic sound that filled the greenhouse. "Thank you, Scott," you said, your cheeks flushed. "You're quite charming yourself."

A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the gentle humming of your wings and the rustling of the plants. You sighed, a soft, wistful sound. "I'd love to talk more," you said, "but my garden and my beetles need tending."

"Oh, right, of course," Scott said, snapping out of his reverie. He smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached his eyes. "I get it. They're your… your team."

"Exactly," you replied, your smile mirroring his.

Scott turned to leave, his mind still buzzing with the encounter. He walked back through the double doors, the humming of your wings fading into the background. As he strolled down the hallway, he couldn't help but grin.

"Totally nailed it," he muttered to himself, a self-satisfied smirk spreading across his face. He'd just met someone truly extraordinary, and he couldn't wait to see you again.

[celandeline]

Things Have Changed Pt. 6 (Carl Grimes X Reader)

Part 6 of 9. TWO PARTS IN A DAY??? What is this?? (you're welcome)

It’s been two weeks since Carl left. You aren’t the only one that’s worried. 

It’s not like him to disappear for this long. Especially that he told everyone beforehand that he only planned to be gone for a couple of days. You’ve taken it upon yourself to check in on Judith every so often, and you can tell that she’s worried too. Carl is a pinnacle of the community - everyone’s worried. 

It’s an elephant in the room at the next council meeting, tension thick in the air as you sit down at the council table in the back of the chapel. The silence is deafening as you glance around the table, taking in the somber faces. 

Aaron breaks the silence. “We should talk about it.” He says, voice low. 

“What do we do?” Ben immediately voices concern. “I mean, he’s pretty fucking important - he’s on this council. Do we send someone out after him? Do we just presume he got got and elect someone new? Is there even anyone as qualified as him to be in charge of the scavenging crews?”

“And if he is… gone,” Alice chimes in. “We can’t leave Judith alone in that house. Do we just move her in with one of us-?”

“Let’s take one thing at a time.” Gabriel says. “Do we wait, and see if Carl comes back, or do we start the process of finding someone to fill the empty seat?”

“We send someone out after him.” You say. “Part of what makes us strong as a group is that we don’t leave people behind. And Carl is a pillar of this community. He’s capable and smart - I think it’s most likely that something happened, maybe he got stuck in a herd or he popped a tire or something, but he’s not dead.” You swallow down the lump forming in your throat. “He’s not.”

Even just the thought of him being dead is enough to choke you up a little. Of course in light of recent feelings, but even just the thought of Carl as someone that you’ve grown up with is upsetting. 

“There’s a lot of risk with that.” Gabriel says. “If we send someone out to look for Carl, and they don’t come back either, that’s two members lost. Maybe even permanently.”

“And then, how do we pick someone to go look for him?” Alice says. “There’s no one that is more knowledgeable about traveling in the wild than Carl - that’s why he’s on this council. Do we even have someone that could find him?”

Murmurs go around the table at her questions - and she raises a fair point. In any other situation, Carl would be the person you send to go find someone who’s gone missing. Who do you have to send out after him?

“I’ll go.” The words are out of your mouth before you can even really think about them. You’re by no means as experienced with living in the wilds as Carl is, having spent most of your life post-outbreak here in Alexandria, but you’ve grown over the years. Losing the members of your family, becoming a pillar of the community, fighting against the groups that sought to take this place from you - it’s all made you more capable. Sharper. Tougher. 

“We can’t send another council member out when we’ve already lost one.” Aaron says. “That’s-”

“Who else?” You ask. “We’re the most capable people in this community, that’s why we’re sitting here. If we’re sending someone after him it should be someone at this table.” You turn to look at Aaron. “You travel all the time, why not-?”

“Not like Carl does.” Aaron shakes his head. “There’s a difference between scouting out people and scavenging; I’m not going out as far as he usually is, and certainly not far enough that I need a vehicle. Not to mention that I wouldn’t even know where to start actually looking for him.” He pauses. “But if that’s what we decide, I’ll try my best.”

Silence passes around the table again before Ben speaks. “I like Carl, he’s a good kid. And he and his dad did wonders for this place. But I don’t know if it’s smart to risk someone else to look for him. Especially if that someone would be another person sitting at this table. If Carl doesn’t make it back here - and I hope to god he does, really - it’s going to be hard enough to find someone to replace him. Let alone two seats. It would just make me feel better if we keep the people that run Alexandria close to Alexandria.”

Alice nods as Ben finishes his speech. “I agree completely.” She says. “As much as I want to drop everything to bring Carl back, people depend on us to keep this place together. We have responsibilities to them too.”

It’s an argument that you sort of agree with, which is why you hate it all the more. You do have a responsibility to the people of Alexandria, and putting yourself at risk without knowing if Carl is even alive or not still would be… not your smartest move. But its Carl. Thinking about him has a way of leading you to stupid, reckless thoughts. Like going out to look for him even if this council meeting ends in a vote not to. 

Still, you have to try. “I understand what you’re saying.” You say. “But if it were one of us that went missing on the road, I don’t doubt that this council would send Carl and the scavengers out to look. Shouldn’t we at least try to do the same?”

“You’re right.” Gabriel says. “But none of us are as adept at navigating the conditions of the road as Carl. I fear it would only result in more loss.”

Another patch of silence falls over the room. It’s clear where this is going - you can tell by the way no one will make eye contact with each other. Someone will have to say the unspoken words eventually, but it’s clear no one wants to. Deciding you’re not going to send anyone to look for Carl is a little like admitting he’s already dead, even if he isn’t. A lump starts to form in your throat. 

“I guess we should formalize it.” Aaron breaks the tense silence, his somber tone cutting through the air. 

“God.” Ben runs his hands down his face. “I hate having to make the tough-ass decisions.”

“Yeah.” Alice chimes in quietly. 

“Those in favor of sending out a rescue party?” Gabriel asks. You raise your hand, knowing that you’ll be the only one to do so. He nods. “And those in favor of not?” The rest of the council’s hands go up. “It’s decided.”

“I’m sorry.” Ben looks at you as he brings his hand back down. 

“It’s a loss for the whole community.” You say, forcing the lump down. The council’s formal decision is made, but it’s not done. You can still take things into your own hands and go out after him. 

“Yeah, but…” Ben trails off, still looking at you. “You guys were…” 

He doesn’t say it, but the implication is clear. And he’s not entirely wrong - you weren’t dating, but you can’t say for certain now that dating was totally off the table. And even beyond that, you were still close. It was hard not to be close to him, when everyone else was so much older or younger than you that there wasn’t much to talk about. Especially so after Enid left for Hilltop. Then it was really just you and Carl. You catch yourself then, thinking in the past tense. He’s not dead. He’s not. And you’re going to get him, you are. 

You shrug, dropping the eye contact in favor of staring at the wood grain of the table and trying not to cry. 

“What about Judith, then?” Gabriel says, moving the conversation forward. “Do we have her move in with one of us?”

“I could take her.” Aaron offers. “Gracie would be thrilled.”

You tune out of the conversation. You had been so sure, walking into this meeting, that you were going to leave with the relief that someone was going to go look for him. That there would be some plan in place to bring him back. But there isn’t, and it doesn’t sit right in your gut at all. It’s a little terrifying, thinking about leaving to go searching for him, but you’ve already decided. You’re not going to let him just disappear, even if you are on bad terms. For the community's sake. And Judith’s sake. 

Maybe, if you do find him, it’ll be enough for him to speak to you again.

[previous part] [next part]

[tricoufamily]

it's just not my year

[loderlied]

sharing some thoughts about deactivating here because it’s been difficult pondering idk.