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readychilledwine · 3 months

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hii!! i’m in love w your writing!!❤️❤️❤️ can i please request one where it’s azriel x reader. Feyre sees azriel wearing a ring on his left finger and asks,

” i’ve seen you wear that ring forever azriel, what does it mean? ”

” it’s my wedding ring ”

and her jaw drops bc she didn’t know he even had a lover.

” who is she? do i know her? what is she like? ”

he smiles faintly and says

” her name is y/n, she’s my mate and wife and she isn’t a warrior like us, she works at a library downtown. you don’t know her, only rhys and cassian do. we have a house in the outskirts in velaris. she is very sweet and i love her more than anything, our daughter is- ”

” YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER ????? ”

he nods and tells them all about her, he asks if feyre wants to meet reader and their daughter and feyre smiles and nods. He asks reader in the mating bond if it’s okay to bring her, nyx, rhys and cassian to dinner. reader says yes and azriel tells feyre he’ll pick them all up tonight before leaving to help his wife prepare. Reader meets feyre and become friends instantly, nyx and their daughter become friends aswell.

” how did i not know this?? this makes so much sense now. How he never sleeps here and he’s gone for days sometimes but not on missions. ” feyre asks rhysand.

”don’t worry i didn’t know for a long time either, Az is a very private person, he is extremely protective of his family. i’m glad he told me at all. either way he’s still a mystery sometimes, i learn new things about him all the time and i’ve known him for over 500 years” rhys says and laughs knowing your perfect for his brother 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️😭🥹😍

Haven

Warnings - none

A/n - I played with this for a while, rewrote it several times, and then made something that met in the middle of what came to mind, but still stuck with the request. Hopefully, you love it, dear 💜

Feyre had been in Velaris for 5 years. 5 long years and she had yet to figure out why Azriel kept a simple black band on his left ring finger at all times.

The two of them were on the couch, Rhys across from them, as they looked over maps of a few of the Illyrian Camps that had been recently renovated. The new cabins, mess halls, and dorms were a huge success, and figuring out the same layout for the remaining few was a huge topic of interest for the three smaller camps.

She glanced at the ring one more time before tapping it. Rhys and Azriel both looked at her, brows raised. "So, not magic," she muttered to herself. She tried spell cleaving it, "And not a ward or shield."

Azriel blinked at her, brows knit in silent question. Rhys had his hand over his mouth, hiding his amusement. Leave it to his wife to provide entertainment without knowing it was needed. "I-" she sighed. "You wear this ring all the time. I'm trying to figure out why."

Both of the males chuckled. "Probably the same reason you wear your wedding ring, Feyre Darling."

The High Lady made face, tapping the ring again. "Don't be ridiculous, Rhys. I would know if Azriel was married."

"Evidently not, my love."

Feyre and Azriel held eye contact, the male then going back to the maps. "Since I have extensive time in Steppes Peak, I think it would be easiest to move the mess hall here, at the base of the mountain, maintain the warroom in the carved out cave, and build better dorms here," he pointed to an empty part of the map.

Rhys nodded, drawing it out on the empty map he had. "I'm sure y/n will agree with whatever you say."

"Okay, stop." Feyre crossed her arms, pouting slightly at the two of them. "Azriel isn't married, and making up some name to make me feel stupid isn't kind."

Azriel sighed. He leaned back while dropping the scent ward he kept on himself at all times. He watched as her face fell. He knew his scent, chilled air and cedar, was the predominant one in the mateship, but now a soft floral scent, something like lavender and warm honey clung there softly.

"I've been married for longer than you have been alive, Fey." Azriel patted her hand. "I have a daughter older than you and another younger than Nyx."

He watched as her face fell, a small amount of hurt flashing across it. "Why didn't you tell me?" She paused, looking at the sleeping heir in his craddle. "We could be having play dates. I could have a friend who understands."

Guilt settled into his face as he pulled her into him. "I torture people for living, sweet sister. I execute people on your orders. I imprison people with a flick of your wrist." He tilted Feyre's head up. "Y/n has no combat training and refused to learn. She likes to sit at home writing poetry, baking, and cuddling our children. I do not bring her around or introduce them to anyone to keep them safe." His face held the ghost of a rare smile. "I think I've brought her to meet Rhys and Cassian once."

Rhys nodded. "I've met her once here and several times behind your back in town. Especially after my first niece was born."

Feyre kept her gaze on Nyx. "He could have a friend," her voice was distant.

Azriel stood, placing a kiss on her forehead as he did. "I'll be right back." Rhysand's smile grew wide. Folding the maps and putting them away. He moved to the liquor cabinet, bringing down one of his more expensive wines.

Azriel reappeared with you and both daughters in tow. Your oldest ran to Rhys, jumping on him and holding him tightly, her wings fluttering with joy as she did. "Hello, Amara," he nuzzled into her hair. "Missed you so much, baby girl. Cassian is on his way."

He walked with her in his arms to the table, setting the wine down and then carried her over to Feyre. "Would you like to meet your aunt?" She allowed Rhys to set her down and turned toward Feyre.

There was little question she was Azriel's. She was the beautiful artists dreamed of painting. Soft classic features framed with inky black hair that fell in gorgeous curls. "Feyre, this is our niece Amara. She's 56. She was my favorite suprise when I got home from the mountain."

She smiled shyly, keeping close to Rhysand. "Hi."

"Hi," Feyre didn't know what came over her, pulling the Illyrian female close to her and holding her. "I'm so excited to meet you."

Amara wrapped her arms around Feyre, returning the gesture. "Me too. Mom and I have been BEGGING dad for a while. But you know how the bats are."

The door slammed open, rushed loud footsteps and a panting filling the hall. "Where's my baby?!"

Amara pulled away from Feyre, smiling softly before moving away from all of them. She was rushed by Cassian, lifted up into his arms as he spun her.

Feyre looked to her side, noticing Azriel next to her, holding a swaddled bundle. "This is Iris. She's a month younger than Nyx." Azriel wouldn't look away from his daughter and her peaceful sleeping face. "I fear the day she loses her chipmunk cheeks."

Feyre looked around the room, trying to find the reason this was happening and felt her heart shift when she saw you, arm wrapped around Rhysand's bicep, looking at Nyx.

You were wingless, long dark hair braided back. Soft leggings and a sweater that was a few sizes too big covering your frame. Cassian had moved next to you, bumping you with his arm and smiling down at you. "He's so beautiful," your voice was a melody, a soft echo that brought calm to the room. "And so sweet. Look at those rosy cheeks."

Rhysand pulled you away, moving you back to Feyre. He handed you to Azriel, arms out expectedly. "Don't make me command it."

The shadowsinger placed his youngest in Rhysand's arms, hands shaking despite the trust between them, "Be careful with her. Please." Rhys nodded, moving over to Cassian. "Feyre, this is y/n, my wife and mat-"

Feyre didn't allow him to finish, hugging you instantly, tears lining her eyes as she did. "Please tell me we can be friends and cry about our babies together."

"I didn't realize that would even be a question. Of course we will be friends, and of course we will cry about all of the things. Our mates don't get it. Cassian, though, Cassian will join us."

The warlord stuck one finger in your direction. "Let me love them in peace, y/n."

You leaned into Feyre, "Has he cried while holding Nyx yet?"

She nodded. "Oh yeah. Big illyrian baby."

"The worst, aren't they? Rhysand, did you want me to make dinner?"

The High lord looked at Azriel, a small look of guilt on his face, "Please."

You squeezed Feyre's arm, kissing Azriel as you moved towards the kitchen. "You know where to find me if she needs me." He nodded.

Azriel moved to Cassian, watching like a hawk as the general snuggled the small babe in his arms. Amara was sitting by Nyx a look of love and adoration on her face as she sighed.

"She's perfect for Azriel in every way," Rhys stroked Feyre's hand. "I was nervous at first too when he brought her home. I was even more nervous when his fears manifested in the form of being deeply private with her. But she is perfect for him."

Feyre nodded, watching as Azriel glared as Cassian due to the loud squeak his baby had just let out.

"His girls are beautiful." Rhys hummed in agreement. "Y/n is beautiful."

Feyre moved to Amara's side, sitting next to her and smiling as her niece started asking questions.

She didn't realize it until now, but this was the missing piece. The part of the puzzle that had sat empty despite every thing around it being done. You and your girls were that lost center.

Now she just had to convince Azriel to keep bringing you around.

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #send asks #send anons #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #girldad!azriel x reader

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shima-draws · 7 months

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OOUGHHH been thinking about Grovyle lately and how much I just *clenches fists* love him. Listen to me. Listen,

He is the character of all time. He’s introduced as a wanted criminal stealing something SO forbidden that even the worst Pokemon criminals won’t even touch. That immediately shoots his coolness factor through the ROOF. And the fact that nobody is able to catch him;; AND we see that he’s ridiculously clever and smart and can worm his way out of just about any situation with a bit of quick thinking. And he’s always surrounded in this air of mystery and intrigue and you’re set up to think well yeah he’s stealing Time Gears and stopping time everywhere OBVIOUSLY he has to be an asshole. Except during your first encounter with him he’s very calm and collected and shockingly polite, and even apologizes when he attacks you?? Basically just the opposite of what you’d expect from a criminal. And then to top it off you find out he’s from the FUTURE?? Which is SO sick. And he’s got some secret history with Dusknoir. And when he’s finally captured and being brought into Treasure Town all tied up he doesn’t even act out UNTIL Dusknoir mentions the planet’s paralysis. Which is the first hint you get that things are a leetle sus.

And when you get taken to the future and are about to be executed…he helps you? He has literally zero obligation to do so, esp since you’ve attacked him before. And there’s another subtle hint that maybe deep down he’s got a soft side, that he’s actually not a bad person. And it’s heartbreaking bc he finally knows someone else who is a common enemy of Dusknoir, and he clearly wants to team up with you, bc all this time he’d been by himself in the past and having people he can trust would make things so much easier (and it’s startling how easy he trusts others, too, especially considering everything he’s been through). But your partner isn’t having it and you can FEEL the disappointment he feels that he’s not able to convince you, that you aren’t going to work together, that he can’t have someone else to rely on besides himself. But that little spark, that glimmer of hope comes back when you catch up to him and you’re like yeah we’re going to decide for ourselves what we think about all this. And you find out from Celebi that Grovyle’s always been hasty, always hurrying ahead to try and achieve his goals, and it’s admirable but also regrettable bc he doesn’t ever have time for anything else.

And THEN you discover the truth…that he’s been your partner all along…and he speaks of you so fondly and has such faith in you that he’s totally fine leaving things to you and letting himself get captured because he trusts you SO much. And the despair right after when he finds out you’ve been traveling alongside him the entire time. His precious partner is also going to get captured and executed and the world is doomed to fall into disrepair. But then your partner ignites that spark of hope again and it’s enough, and you make it back to the past, and suddenly things are different but in a good way because Grovyle suddenly has someone to rely on again, even without a memory to go with it. But he can also tell that because of your amnesia he’s no longer important to you, not by choice of course, but you’ve found someone else, a partner suited for you that brings out the best in you. And that’s fucking heartbreaking because everything the two of you shared is gone now, and you’ve moved on, and even though you’re THERE you’re also so far away and so different from the person he once knew. But he knows he has to let you go, had to from the start anyway, because of the sacrifice you were prepared to make. That BOTH of you were prepared to make. And despite the fact that you have no memory he still. Trusts you. Completely. Enough to sacrifice himself to take Dusknoir back to the future. And believe that you’ll follow through with the vow you made and prevent the planet’s paralysis. And he KNOWS you will so he doesn’t know how much time he has left but it doesn’t matter because he’s been prepared to disappear, to die knowing that he’s saved the future, that he made his mark and was able to shine in his finest moments. He can leave this world knowing he did what he set out to do and he made a difference and things will be better for everyone he’s leaving behind. Shut up. Shut UP. I care about him so much I am GOING to explode. THE character ever. You don’t understand,

#I’ve been in love with him since 2008 and I will love him until the day I die.#Fuckign Grovyle PMD. Love of my life. TRULY the best Pokemon character ever written.#Shima speaks #Pokemon #PMD #Pokemon Mystery Dungeon #Grovyle #PMD Grovyle #PMD Sky #PMD2 #PMD Explorers #Sorry for the word vomit I’m just SO emo right now. God dammit.#Long post

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chaotic-iguana · 9 months

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Javi p x reader where ummm uhhh he is gone for long trip (post Columbia, where they’re on the ranch and his new job occasionally has to travel) and reader wears his clothes bc they miss him/clothes smell like him and javi comes home early to reader in his clothes and he’s like oh my goddd ur sooo cute and he just scoops reader up and idk it is cute

yes. this is the prompt. thank you anon sending you forehead kisses for life.

Away

Summary: Javier’s gone on a trip, and you just can’t help but miss him. lots of fluff. im a SLAVE for soft javi negl.

Wordcount: 1.4k

Pairing: Javier Peña x female! reader

Warnings: just a lot of domestic fluff and a little angst. some kissing and slightly suggestive language towards the end. also a little bit of swearing too. let me know if this works, anon!

masterlist. ao3.

part 2

————————————————————————

Even the coffee didn’t taste the same when he wasn’t here. Laredo had been perfect, a much required (and welcome) change in pace after Colombia. You’d met Javi working as an assistant of the Ambassador, practically detesting him at first.

He’d sauntered into your office, batted his lashes at you (no, seriously), complimented your nails, and just oh-so-casually asked you to get him some paperwork he had absolutely no business looking at. So you’d just clicked your pretty nails (his words) in his face and told him to get the fuck out and come back when you’ve got your head out of your ass.

Two weeks later, he’d just shown up again - sheepish, with proper coffee as a bribe this time - and asked for ten minutes with your boss. Impressed by his newly-discovered manners, you’d gotten him twenty minutes with the guy and helped sway him into authorizing a mission the Ambassador normally wouldn’t even have looked at.

The next morning, there’d been flowers on your desk with a little note scrawled in chickenscratch. Thank you, hermosa. Sorry for being an ass last time. I like the new nails too, maybe you could show them to me up close sometime? You’d exaggeratedly rolled your eyes and thrown the note in the trash, of course, but you couldn’t quite keep the grin off your face that whole week. Nor the week after that, when he took you out, and you did, in fact, give him a fully immersive tactileexperience of that new set of acrylics you’d gotten before the note.

Soon, the arrangement evolved from just sex to practically living together. You never spoke about it; Javi just had a closet in your home and his toothbrush in your bathroom. You went out for anniversary dinners without calling them anniversary dinners; flowers and coffee kept mysteriously showing up at your desk; and his informants started getting paid more and fucked less. By the time Javi left the DEA for good, you both had spent too many years by each other’s sides to change the routine. So the apartment was packed up, tickets to Laredo were brought, and you’d just followed him down here.

It was like just breathing Laredo air was enough to change the man. He’d asked you to marry him practically a week after you met Chucho, who had welcomed you with open arms. Obviously, you said yes, and you lived happily ever. Or as close to it as you could get with his work stealing him away most of the time. It made you laugh, the way you were still waiting on him to come back from his trips - but atleast they weren’t to Bogota anymore; your heart stuck in your throat the whole time he was away because what if he didn’t come back?

No, now that fear had long-faded - and though it flared up at times - a pathetic yearning took its place. Instead of being worried about Javi, you missed him when he was gone, counting down the days like a kid at summer camp waiting to go home. And in a way, you were waiting for your home too.

You loved Chucho, and Laredo, and your new job and all the comforts life had given you here, but the apartment just felt cold and empty when Javi wasn’t next to you. Waking you up with slow, languid kisses in the morning, laughing when you grumbled and rolled over - only to tickle you awake, instead. That cocky grin he got when he realised you were too short to reach something, coming up behind you to pull it down and immediately kissing your forehead because of course you were struggling and of course you were too stubborn to ask him for help. The tough poker face he put on before making one of those witty quips that made you laugh until there were tears in your eyes and you couldn’t stop giggling because it was so ridiculous.

His laugh, his kisses, his smell and his warmth - you missed all of it so fucking much - but you’d never so much as indicate that to him, of course. It was something you’d promised yourself back when the two of you were just a newly-transferred secretary and a DEA agent who might have happened to be in the same bar a few too many times on weekends; you never wanted to make it harder for him to leave, to make him feel like he had to choose between you and his job.

Today, you felt his lack of presence a bit more than normal; it was a day off and you had nothing to do. You and Javi would have spent half the day lounging on the couch and watching terrible movies, taking turns to put on quirky voices for scathing commentaries, ordered takeout and gotten into bed. To either sleep like the dead or get no sleep at all, depending on the mood.

You could go out, but you just didn’t want to meet people right now. You’d had dinner with Chucho a few days ago, which meant you couldn’t just show up at the ranch unannounced and say you’re bored, either. Not that he would mind, but he’d spent the day showing you how to make tamales and that had understandably thrown his work schedule off a bit and you didn’t want to make it worse.

So you showered and pulled out one of Javi’s sleep shirts and boxers, reveling in their comfort before curling up on the bed. You were flicking through the channels, bored out of your mind, when suddenly there was a knock on the door. “Cariño? It’s me.” The second his voice came from the other side, you were stumbling across the room to unlock the door and wrench it open. Beaming, you barely got to look at him before he was bursting through, throwing his bag down and he’d just scooped you up into his arms with practiced ease.

Walking you to the bed, he set you down gently before manoevring you both so that you were in his lap. Tugging at the hem of his shirt, his smile widened. “What’s this, hm?” A teasing tone crept into his voice as you flushed and looked away, biting your lip. You didn’t show affection easily, and you’d never worn any of his shirts before - scared of coming off as too needy, too clingy - even when you were married to the man, for god’s sake.

Watching you blush, Javi tilted your chin to make you look at him as his lips twisted into a smirk, leaning in to pepper kisses all over your face and giving you reprieve only when you squealed, pushing at his chest while giggling uncontrollably. “Did you miss me, honey?” Your shy nod just made him chuckle, gripping your chin to pull you into a deep, open-mouthed kiss. “You’re fuckin’ adorable, you know that? Walking around wearing my clothes when I’m not around - refusing to admit you missed me when I heard you trip on your way to the door.” The twinkle in his eye is only getting brighter with each word, and you’re struggling to meet his eye by the end of it. You knew he found it amusing - the fact that your usually foul-mouthed, unyielding nature; the woman who hadclicked her nails in his fucking face the first time they’d met - melted away to become all shy and flustered, just for him.

“Don’t laugh” you huff, burying your face in his neck to avoid meeting his eye because that was honestly just making your blush deeper. He just snickers again, the asshole, before kissing your forehead and mumbling softly.

“‘Course not, sweetheart. Hated being away, y’know? ‘N then I got home, and you just looked so cute in my shirt dwarfing you that I jus’ couldn’t help myself.” You leaned back, with a teasing grin of your own.

“Couldn’t help yourself? Sounds like you’ve gotta make up for laughing at your poor wife now, Mr Peña.” You peered up at him through your lashes, watching him catch on with widened eyes before fumbling with the buttons on his shirt and pulling it over his head, hurling it to the floor next to him.

“Come on then, wife. Let’s make amends, huh?”

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings

#narcos fanfiction #narcos #javier pena narcos #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fluff #javi peña x reader #javier pena fic #javier pena imagines #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña fluff #javier peña imagine #javier peña x fem!reader #javier peña x female reader #cool-iguana

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tbhimnoteasyonmyself · 3 months

Text

TAN IS NEW

Hello, fellow associates, I, local deranged man, bring you (by request of @ayansbff who said I should "go make a post and patent it fr." thank you, Naga <3) once again a theory as insane as whatever has been going on in the ASOIAF fandom in the last 10 years (but no, I'm not here to tell you Tan is a horse or New is a faceless man).

For this week's episode: Tan is New (but with some spice).

Pls beware, this will require a certain level of "bear with me", ok? Ok.

Also: long ass post, guys. Be prepared.

So, 1st things 1st: New is obviously studying abroad.

This would mean that, in all the episodes we've seen of the flashback, we wouldn't have seen New. Because he's literally in a different country (cue theory: New is Mhok working as a cook in Hawaii ksksksk /j).

Nevertheless, in the latest events of the past storyline, Non has just gone M.I.A. Which is definitely something you'd tell the kid's brother about. I'd be pretty pissed if I was New and no one fucking told me about my brother vanishing.

(I think it could definitely be argued that their parents might try to hide the whole getting involved with money laundry and even the pedophilic child revenge porn sex tape on Twitter thing, especially their mother. bc, considering their treatment of Non this episode, it would definitely cross my mind that they'd think something along the lines of "New shouldn't be worried about what his fuck up of a brother is involved with, he should just focus on his study". And idk if Thailand's national news would arrive to New in the US just like that (maybe, maybe not, I won't try to speculate too much, I think it's too much of a wild card). YET, I still think, regardless, they'd have their limits even if the rest was true and they'd tell him about his brother being literally MISSING. So yeah...)

So back on track: sure, the police "think" Non has run away with Keng

Or, was convinced by Tee's uncle to accept that storyline

but Non's parents don't believe that shit

("They're TRYING to make our son LOOK LIKE" not "They think our son HAS")

And I think the same feeling could've been passed to New by his parents or just by New himself. But even if not, I think it's pretty reasonable to assume he'd come back to Thailand after that news. Like, if my brother was missing, I'd feel pretty bad, my parents would feel pretty bad and I'd want to go back home and be with them a bit, follow things up close, at the very least.

So, assuming that's true, it's not weird to presume New could be back in Thailand by the time The Hidden Character (the film Non wrote, not the BOC reality show thing) airs. Which would lead us to:

Now, I've seen people say it's Tan, I've seen people say it's White, I've seen people say it's Bible (?)... To me, that's Tan. The voice that calls "Phee" seems to me that's Mio's voice and the person we see in the door, albeit he does resemble Bible, reads to me as him as well.

Besides, we see him being introduced to the class in the ep.9 preview so, yeah, it could be to throw us off, but I genuinely think it's just bc it's Tan.

Regardless, even if not, Tan will appear next episode. So... There's that. Question is: why?

We see both Tan and Phee moving to the gang's class next episode, which the gang points out as "weird". Now, idk why it would be weird to see people change schools in 12th grade but fine, I'm not gonna argue, maybe they know something I don't. Ig you could argue it's bc it's the last year but I'd say people have issues all the time (being the last year of school doesn't change that) and people also move houses all the time. So I wouldn't question it but ok. Moving on.

We know Phee has a connection to Non (as his ex-boyfriend) but we don't know why Tan would be there too. Sure, we can argue Phee has to have friends. But, ngl, if my friend asked me to move schools bc he wants to find out what happened to his bf who mysteriously disappeared, I'd politely decline. I'd support him in his endeavours, of course, but I wouldn't change my entire life for it. I could even go as much as to help him befriend them and hang out with the fuckers but I wouldn't move schools, I think.

So Tan must have a bigger motive, right? And what bigger motive than being the brother of Non, am I right?

Furthermore, we have to consider legal matters. They're all minors. Phee's father, of course, knows about Phee being, at least, friends with Non. And, even if he told him to stay out of trouble and that he himself would not go around poking in the business for Phee's own safety, I think he'd be okay with Phee moving schools for grief reasons (a.k.a being close to Non because that was his school) or even bc he knew Phee was trying to talk to his friends (I don't think he suspects the kids too much and honestly that's a terrible lack of sight on his behalf but, I mean, they're kids, I think it's fair to assume they're innocent).

But what about Tan? Assuming Tan is not Non's brother, would his parents let him move schools to the school where all those nasty kids who keep appearing on the news study??? I don't think so. Sounds dangerous. Things change, of course, if Tan is not actually Tan but New.

Non's parents, despite their obvious lack of parenting skills, care about him. He's their son. They'd want to know what happened. And, sure, New getting involved would be terrible for them (bc he's their son and clearly the favourite child and god forbid he wastes his potential studying there bc of Non's failures AGAIN), but if New specifically requested that, would they go against it? Would they go against their talented son and his show of altruism and love for his brother?? Especially when the police are not doing anything and it's just trying to close the damn case??? I don't think so.

Thus: Tan is New.

"But what about his legal name???", I hear you say. "If they're siblings they'll have the same last name!!" And yeah. That's true. Especially in Thailand where most surnames are exclusive to a singular family. But I thin- "What about the age gap??? New is older than Non!! His mom even refers to him as Non's phi!!!" Yes. I know. That's where the spice comes in:

NEW IS ADOPTED.

There, I dropped the bomb. This would mean that, maybe, his legal name wasn't changed from what it originally was. Sure, it could've, since he's now part of a different family but they also could've kept the original surname. Which is likely if New wasn't adopted in a normal fashion.

We have to consider how poor Non's family seems to be. Whether that's a new situation or it has always been like this we don't know. But that's something. Now, I'm not Thai nor do I live in Thailand but from what I read, income does factor a lot into whether or not a family can adopt a child (at least in theory). So I'd assume a poor family would struggle with it. Nevertheless, it seems Thai law puts a lot of value into family ties with the child so, maybe New was someone else's child originally like of a brother or a sister of one of Non's parents. Or maybe something else entirely, I don't know. I don't think it matters that much.

"That still doesn't explain the age gap though. Tan is only 2 months older than Non!!"

Well, that's still older. Would that qualify him as "phi", idk? Both Pimpa (Non and New's mother) and Non refer to him that way. But maybe that's just another way for the series to tell us there's a ver clear hierarchy between these brothers and Non comes second. Idk. (if you're Thai or know Thai culture well and would like to add input here, pls do)

"WHAT ABOUT THE PICTURES, DANTE???"

Ok, yeah, I know. They make a compelling case.

(I took the liberty to brighten them bc OMG WHY IS THIS SHOW SO DARK????)

And yes, in the picture further to the left it does seem like they have a huge age gap but also, in the picture right next to it, it doesn't seem so (in fact the kid in blue seems about the same age in both pics, only the other one doesn't). So maybe the kid in pic one is not Non, it's some other kid (could be, especially considering he's wearing blue and, as the fandom's most dear colour theorist @shannankle has pointed out on a lot of posts but most especially this one: Non's colour is red). Or maybe it is one of them and they just grew up at different paces, idk. It happens, man.

TBH I'm not greatly concerned about the pics. What I am concerned about is the narrative implications of this. That his parents's (and, as previously established, especially his mother's [who is the most present parent in his life, as stated by the parents themselves in ep.8])

favourite kid is the one who isn't even theirs by blood. That their favourite son is the one that is not actually their son (I obviously do believe adopted kids are as much people's kids as biological ones, family is made not inherited, but I mean this as strictly talking about the blood relations of these people)! That no one ever loves Non enough to actually save him from doom (bc, like a fairytale princess, the thing that could prevent Non's demise was love).

If his peers had loved him enough he wouldn't have felt the need to cling to that awful gang. If Jin had loved him enough he would've helped him get away from Tee in this episode, at the very least. If his parents had loved him enough, they would've prevented him from falling prey to so many people or, at least, would've been trustworthy for him to talk to and helped him get out of the situations he was getting himself into.

This would also play well with the character's names:

Non. That which/whom isn't.

Who isn't seen, who isn't heard, who isn't loved, who isn't perfect, who isn't who people expected him to be, who isn't the gang's friend, who isn't his parent's perfect son (not blaming him but that's how they see it), who isn't the boyfriend Phee hoped he would be (not blaming him for the sexual assault he suffered, just seeing it through Phee's eyes, pls don't misinterpret).

New. That which/whom is fresh, original. That which just arrived.

Who is a prodigy, a talent, one of a kind. Who is so different from Non and his "crooked ways". Who arrived at the family later. Who just arrived in Thailand, who just arrived in Non's school. Who is a new person, who has a new identity, who has a new life goal.

So, yeah, it is a bit crazy and depends on a lot of circumstantial and potential facts that have not been hinted towards AT ALL by the show. And I recognize that. But I think this is what is fun about theories and speculation and, even if this is not true (likely), I still had fun crafting this and showing it to you guys. At the very least it's entertaining and keeps us thinking.

Pls feel free to add stuff or question stuff in this post, I'd love for us to work together as a community for our little murder gays show. Hehe.

Also, I'll leave you a question myself: if this is true, does it mean Phee and Tan are working together as the killers, only one of them is killing or neither is committing murder? 🤔

#dff #dff the series #dead friend forever #dead friend forever the series #dff theory #dff the series theory #dead friend forever theory #dead friend forever the series theory #dff ep 8 #dff the series ep 8 #dead friend forever the series ep 8 #dead friend forever ep 8

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lvlyghost · 1 year

Text

Remember

Pairings: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Summary: You and the team go out for a drink. At the end of the night is just you and Simon.

Word Count: 800

Tw: fluff, kyle and soap get drunk, dad!price, that’s all I think(?🥴✨

A/N: idk what this is, i was bored and finished it almost at 1:00 a.m, maybe this is my poor attempt to make a story with ghost bc god i love that man, consider this a second part of i see you although it can be read as an independent one-shot. Please remember english isn’t my first language, corrections are appreciated ✨🤍🌟💕

Part 1✨

You smiled at the camera, closing your eyes and tongue sticking out, Kyle feigned seriousness and snapped the picture. The two of you bursting into laughter as he uploaded the story to his social media. On the other side of the booth Ghost remained stoic.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He muttered to himself, rolling his eyes at the sight of the two of you. You and Gaz were the youngest ones of the team and that meant hearing you talking about things he couldn’t quite understand or watching you do things on your phones that made no sense whatsoever.

Why did he even agree to come to the pub in the first place?

“I’ll go grab another round!” Kyle announced, not waiting for an answer.

“You should’ve stopped him Lt.” you spoke. “He’s had way too many of those.”

Simon didn’t even turn to look at the sargeant.

“He’s not my bloody problem.”

But deep down you knew he’d look after any of you even off-duty.

“Hmm. Last time I checked you stopped me from grabbing us those shots of tequila back in Mexico, remember?”

He does. But apparently you didn’t remember what happened that night.

And he’d keep it that way.

“You would’ve ended up choking on your own vomit, lightweight.”

You bring and hand to your chest, mouth hanging open. You can’t help it, you laugh. He’s just…

“Wow, thank you Simon. Anyway, Kyle could be the one choking on his own vomit if we don’t stop him n… where’s Johnny?”

Simon nods his head to the other side of the pub, Price is trying to get him out of the pub, completely drunk. Kyle comes back empty handed and offended.

“Apparently, the barman says I’ve had too much. Why don’t you grab some for us Lt.? You look just fine…”

“Alright that’s it muppet, you too.” Price is now grabbing Kyle by the arm and leading him to the exit before he can even say anything. It’s getting late and you know the Captain wouldn’t come back to get you nor Simon.

“And then there were two.” You smile. “Wanna get out of here?”

He inhales deeply and nods, standing up and offering you a big calloused hand to help you out of the booth.

You had always wondered why he was so kind to you. Ghost was known as this tall, broody and mysterious man that no one wanted to cross paths with. Dangerous and feared. He was easily a good foot taller than you and could break you in an instant if he ever wanted to. Yet here he was.

Offering his hand to you, looking down straight to your big doe eyes. You always thought he had a staring problem. When he was looking at you –especially now– like that, you couldn’t help but wonder if he at least felt the way you did, just a little part of him…

You absolutely adored how safe he made you feel. Recalling that day when he had followed you all the way to the armory after your failed attempt to dating this one guy.

“You alright there kid?” He asks, leading both of you out in the hot summer air.

“Mhm.” That’s all you offer, you wish you could say more. Wish you could say all the things you wanted to him. You felt silly. A silly girl with a crush with her superior. You had convinced yourself it’ll go away. Simon Riley wasn’t one to have romantic feelings he had told you before.

“That’s just not for me.” He had stated, firmly after a rather hard mission. Things had gone sideways too soon.

“How long have we known each other, sir?” You suddenly ask, walking down the street and to the barracks.

“Over a year. I don’t know, why are you asking?”

He knew exactly how long you’ve known each other he just had to act like he didn’t.

Shrugging you stare right ahead.

“I know I’ve asked before but uh, you ever think of settling down? Like finding a partner and having someone to go home to?”

“No.” His answer is blunt, and for some reason it makes your chest tighten. “Things like that don’t work for people like us.”

“Why?” You inquire so fast, turning your head to see him. “How do you know that? You’ve never…”

“I just do.” He grunts in response.

Maybe you’re imagining things now but you could’ve sworn he took a quick glance at your lips before looking elsewhere.

Still you playfully nudge his side after a few seconds of silence. If it were someone else Simon would’ve been furious.

“Never say never, sir.”

Somehow you find yourself smiling and Ghost knew, he knew that would be a problem.

If only you could remember what happened that night in Las Almas…

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satins-shithole · 4 months

Text

To understand an idiot

ight guys, first time posting a fic so please be gentle. this is just the preview, a lil snippet of what's to come. this is going to be a multi part story so let me know if anyone wants tagging in for future chapters. Its basically a fix-it-fic to the cannon events with some other twists along the way. so we going back to 2012 avengers BABY! anyways enjoy <3 ALSO not proof read bc we die like real men. should really put some warnings in this too, swearing for sure. that should be a given for all smut for later chapters, but no other warnings for now.

Words: 1082

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Well… that sure as shit didn't go to plan. It was supposed to be different. She wasn’t supposed to be anywhere fucking near here, not even in the same universe. So why. Why was she here?

Fuck. She still looks like the fresh air that tickles the side of your lungs when you take a deep breath. Or the reason why people want to start learning golf. (Because seriously all the sports in the world and mortals choose to play golf?). Truly one of life's mysteries. Just like her. An enigma, a true Pandora’s box advocate. The impenetrability of her walls is unmatched, unfazed, and unpredictable. The soft moments hidden behind mugs of caffeinated liquid and inside quip’s showing that the walls can in fact be cracked. She won't let them break, but they can crack. Other times the quick exchanges with others within proximity are harsh reminders that you don't know her. You'll never know her. Everything you think you know, is it really her?. But she is there. She’s always there, exactly when she needs to be. As all mortals are, staying in one place all at one time. Never really going far. Hell, these goons aren't even off their own planet yet. A mere particle on the never ending shit-stain that is the greatness of creation. HALLELUJAH. Wait. Where is she now? Maybe she'll know where the best place to eat is?. Doubtful, you did just appear out of thin air, in the middle of what looks like a heated debate. Who was she again? Where have you seen this woman before? Oofft this was starting to bother you now.

That's it. Never ever again are we to travel via staff. It's always the same outcome so why did you let him do it? Questions upon Questions. Most of them have started to fall back down to the place they emerged up from.

Shaking your head, trying to collect your thoughts. This was too much, you're far too tired for this. Quick in and out, go get some birria tacos and be back before the next episode is on. Sounds simple in theory. So why were you upside down, in a dark room full of pipes and machines? Why was there that repetitive shriek happening?

The two who fell with you are starting to stir. That was some surprise, even for you. Whose life is one endless surprise. Out of all of the “pops” you've had, that one feels like definitely was planned. Or like some sort of sick joke. What were you just thinking? Where's that woman gone? And why were you thinking all of these things about her? Where the fuck has Primo sent you?!

A touch to your shoulder had pulled you from the countless thoughts that swarmed your head. It was her, the culprit herself. The very one who had scattered your thoughts like they were sheep seeing a wolf.

“Hey are you okay”

Her voice was strained from the position she was in. It looks like her foot was stuck on something. Some large debris that had fallen down with you was on top of her foot.

“Hey, can you hear me? Are you okay?”

Shit. here we go again. The whole no talking thing. Time to talk with your hands. She's gonna know what a thumbs up is right?. I'd be worried if not. Let's go with that. Throwing up your left hand, thumb drawn high she seemed to get the message.

Stunned silence overtook the two of you, until it was broken by the second person you'd fallen down with. The man started to groan, and squirm in what could be assumed as pain.

“Bruce?”

The woman spoke again. By the tone of her voice you knew she was scared.

“Bruce, you're okay. Everything's gonna be fine.”

‘Bruce’ was now getting louder, and a lot more mobile. That was it, you sat upright and instantly felt cold. A tell tale sign that you're nearly at your limit. You needed to go home, rest and come back to this another day. It would be easier to put *a pin in this situation and come back when you've not just left the tournament of all tournaments. A true testament of what it means to be a pre-eminent being. But even they cannot fight forever. Everything has a limit, and you're going to hit yours soon.

The groans and whines from ‘bruce’ were louder now, as he was beginning to sit up. Another groan,but not from him. It was from her. She was still looking down at he- SHIT.

Her foot was still stuck and you'd been sitting there looking like a deer in headlights because of what? Her? No way. You're tired, you've just been through a lot in the past 72 hours. Was it even 72 hours? You're tired.

After what felt like forever you moved. Fuck it hurts to move, The bending down really reminded you of that. But you needed to get that pipe off her and figure out what the hell is wrong with him? With a deep breath you managed to heave the solid chunk of metal from on top of her foot. Pulling her upright in one swift motion, not one she bothered to acknowledge. Her concentration was solely on the man rolling around in front of you two.

“Bruce I swear we will get out of this, I swear on my lif-”

“YOUR LIFE?!”

That was enough for you, well enough for you to figure out something isn't right with this guy. Was he turning green?

A grasp at your wrist tore your eyes off the scene that was happening before you, a lot has just happened in the space of two minutes. You need a breather. Or a strong drink, the decisions still up in the air. But where had all the questions gone? You had lots before, didn’t you?. What was it you were sent here for aga-

“We need to move!”

Holy shit. For the first time since your sudden appearance in this shit-hole you’ve only just looked around at the mortals that surrounded you. Well one of them. The others were still up in the room with the big window. And the other one ‘Bruce’ was it? He was definitely turning green now. But the only one who actually acknowledged you. The one holding onto your wrist, staring at you with such intensity, such fire, such passi-

“Are you dumb?!, we need to move NOW!”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #marvel #black widow #natasha romanoff #natasha x you #natasha romanov #natalia romanova #the avengers #black widow x reader #black widow x y/n

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daydreamingleclerc · 2 years

Note

what about jealous Mick, or for a soft meeting the family fic x

gna do the jealous one bc there’s really not enough suggestive mick content on tumblr dot com i really feel like @whorekneecentral and i fly the flag currently

warning: smut

“Y/N? where are you?”

“at thirst, can you come and get me and sarah?”

the bass of the heavy music almost busted the sound on your phone as you called mick in the bathroom of the club. mick shifted on the other end of the line, and you realised quickly that he must’ve been in bed.

“if you’re in bed then-”

“don’t be silly, Y/N, of course i’ll come and get you,” he said, “i’ll be fifteen minutes, make sure you’re waiting outside okay?”

“love you.”

“love you too, sweetheart.”

you were excited to have gone out with a few of your friends, but it didn’t go as expected. fiona had ended up going home with a mystery man only an hour into the night, jasmine’s boyfriend scott had gotten far too drunk and it resulted in him getting booted from the club, and taylor’s purse had got stolen by someone who the bouncers managed to catch, and she was now giving a statement to the police alongside zara behind the bar.

all in all, it was a pretty shit night. sarah was on the verge of passing out thanks to a significant amount of jagerbombs, and her friend benjamin, who you’d met several times and hooked up with once long before mick was in your life, wouldn’t leave you alone all night.

mick pulled up outside the club and he watched you with eagle eyes as you laughed at one of ben’s jokes while sarah’s long term hook-up, sam, slid her into the backseat of mick’s car.

“Y/N? babe, come on, we really need to get going,” mick wound down the passenger seat window and you turned to face him mid-way through your innocent conversation with benjamin.

mick’s jaw tightened as he saw benjamin’s arm hook around your waist, and when you gave him - and sam - a quick, completely platonic peck on the cheek, he squeezed the steering wheel that little bit harder.

scrambling into the passenger seat, you’d barely shut the door before mick sped off in the direction of sarah’s apartment, which wasn’t too far from yours.

“are you okay?” you would ask him, but he wouldn’t respond, eyes on the road as his jaw clenched. you knew almost instantly that it was because of benjamin. “look, if this is about what i think this is about then-”

“-lets just wait ‘til i’ve dropped sarah off, baby.”

mick’s emphasis on the word baby implied that he was trying. to get through to you that you were his and his only, but you couldn’t help but have a little more fun with it.

after a few more minutes, sarah’s flatmate was at the front door to greet you and helped her wobbly legs up the stairs and out of your hair. you blew a harsh, hot puff of air from your mouth.

“how’s benji?” mick’s voice was almost like venom when he mimicked the name you called benjamin by. “does he still wanna get back into your pants?”

“probably,” you admitted, “didnt ask, but his bodies reaction to the kiss i left on his cheek told me the answer was almost definitely a yes.”

that’s when mick pulled over on the motorway. it was one thirty in the morning, and it was rare that a lot of people came down this motorway to get back from the city centre on a night out. you poked your tongue into your cheek, knowing full well you had got what you wanted.

you climbed out of the passenger seat and met mick at the front of the car, when almost immediately he had you pressed against the bonnet with your legs spread wide open. your hands splayed across the top of it and your cheek was cool on the metal.

“you’re mine,” he would say, leaving a harsh sting of lovebites down your neck, “havent i made that clear?”

you heard the elastic of his boxers pop back and before you could say anything, he’d pushed your dress up to your hips and his dick was already pressing inside of you.

he would leave you no time to adjust, one hand would wrap around your ponytail and he would pull you up, so now only your hands were braced against the bonnet, and your back was pressed flush against his abdomen.

his hand moved to your neck, and with each, harsh thrust you made a strained noise that made him grunt.

“how many times do i have to punish you for being a brat when you come home? hm?”

his thumb and forefinger squeezed at your chin, pressing your lips together so that you couldn’t even speak. “you’re so fucking wet,” one of his hands spanked your arse and you jolted, “all for me, isn’t it baby?”

you didn’t answer.

mick was riled up even more by that, and he pushed you back down to the bonnet and his thrusts became deeper, more intense and sloppier as you clenched around him with every thrust.

“i’m gonna ask you again,” he warned, “you’re so wet, aren’t you, sweetheart? and it’s all for me, isn’t it?”

“y-yes sir.”

“good girl.”

mick fucked you for a while longer until you hit your orgasm, and the feeling of you squirting your juices around him left him cumming inside of you, both of you panting as you desperately tried to get your voices back.

your hand rested on his thigh as he started up the engine again, and you smiled at one another.

“he means nothing to me, you know that, don’t you?”

“of course i do,” mick nodded, shooting you a soft, toothy grin as he excited the motorway. “i love you, sweetheart.”

“i love you and only you, mick.”

#mick schumacher blurb #mick schumacher #blurb #baby blurb #baby blurbs #mick schumacher blurbs #mick schumacher smut #mick schumacher fluff #fluff #smut #blurbs #drabble #mick schumacher x you #f1 smut #f1 fluff #f1 blurb

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veilder · 8 days

Note

please excuse my word vomit but I shortened the hell out of my caption to avoid being annoying and your tags on my art sent me into a frenzy haha

so my favorite pre relationship dynamic for convin (and in my current fic) they start out as enemies with benefits who accidentally develop feelings but are in denial and know the smart thing to do is to stop and so every time they hook up is the last time (until the next time). and you’re right I drew gavin with the pained expression bc he’s the first one to realize his feelings are feelings but he doesn’t think he deserves connor and he thinks connor wants this to stay physical and that hurts but 1. he thinks he deserves the hurt and 2. he’ll take what he can get for as long as he can get it (hahaha ow). I’m allergic to happy endings in my own writing but I wholly support your happily ever after 😄

also no pressure at all just floating the idea but I’d be so down if you ever wanted to do a collab :] anyways yeah I’m happy you liked my pic and your comments always bring me joy, keep on being wonderful

Omggggggg, what a great ask to get!!! Thank you so much for sending this! 🤩🤩🤩 So, one, your idea behind your art is wonderful and fits them both perfectly. Two idiots getting in over their heads and catching feelings? Yep, that's them, lol. Although, I'm already imagining a happy ending for the two of them, even in that scenario, so whoops! XD I know for me, when I saw your art I was thinking that they were set to be separated. Specific scenarios were still up in the air (i.e. investigation gone awry, some sort of terminal condition, human!AU college fling, historical!AU, etc), but there would be some sort of circumstance that would drive the two of them apart. And this would be the scene of them making the most of their last days together, with Connor throwing his whole self into it while Gavin, in an effort to make the inevitable separation hurt less, begins to withdraw, even though it hurts him. And it would lead to a really messy breakup where they both say hurtful things and are just left with so many regrets. But then... there would be some sort of timeskip and they would meet again, both very changed now but never forgetting the impact the other had on their life. And again, something would force them together, whether it's work or some sort of mystery or even just running into each other over and over again. And they would both realize that the other hasn't really changed as much as they initially thought. That he's still the man they fell in love with. And that those feelings are far from dead. And eventually, things would rekindle in a burst of passion and long-held feelings and it would be terrible and beautiful and cathartic and so, so painful all at once. They'd wake to a morning of regrets and, in their fear, again try to sever ties. But they'd be miserable about it and all the life would drain from their days. That burst of brightness they'd slowly brought back to each other has once again vanished and they're both left in the dark. And then, idk, the plot would pull them together one final time and they'd get to have their moments of peril and heroics and emotional confessions. And finally, finally they'd confess their feelings for each other. The feelings they've had for so, so long. And they'd both realize what absolute dipshits they've both been, that they've both felt the same way for years and were just too emotionally constipated to do anything about it. And then I'd probably undercut it with some sort of big BLAMO moment where one of them gets taken out by the bad guy (I've decided that there's a bad guy now XD) and they'd be dying in the other's arms. And you'd think that that's it! That, after so much build up and them finally getting on the same page with each other, that they won't get their happily ever after after all. But then idk, there'd be some clever deus ex machina I seeded into the story early on that comes through for them and they both live and the bad guy goes to jail and everything is GOOD! And then sappy epilogue. XD ...Ugh, see? Look what you're making me consider here with your beautiful art?! I'm plotting. Multi-chapter plotting! UGH! 😫😫😫 No, but seriously, I adore that art and felt so damn inspired when I saw it? I wish I'd had more energy to do something with that, but alas! I was just getting off work and it was very late. 😓😓😓 BUT THEN YOU SENT THIS AND MENTIONED A COLLAB AND NOW IT'S ALSO VERY LATE HERE BUT I'M JUST 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 BECAUSE DAMN SON, I WOULD LOVE TO COLLAB?! Like, I legit cannot make any promises, I've had the worst case of writer's block ever now for a couple years and counting. But even if it's just, idk, discussing ideas or chatting about these idiots or something, I'd so be down for it! Definitely feel free to hmu whenever!!! I'd love to chat!!! :D

#asks #dang what an honor!#you made my freaking day dude!#been giddy about this since I saw it at work earlier! :D #bless

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scottishaccentsareawesome · 1 year

Note

HELP I'VE HAD A THOUGHT!!!!

What if, now hear me out! What if Maverick knew ballet?? Like one of his longer foster homes got annoyed by how clumsy he was so they sent him to ballet classes. And he just kinda fell in love with it? So if/when he moved homes again, he either asked to keep going or found new classes himself so he could continue with it. (Maybe this is how he met Carole in my idea that Mav knew her before Goose)

Anyway, obviously none of the flyboys know bc why tf would Mav share that with them when he thinks they hate him? But one day, after a stressful hop, when Mav thinks everybody's gone back to their barracks/housing assignments, he takes the chance to do some of his old dance and barre routines in the gym to calm down. Maybe halfway Mav's workout set through Hollywood and/or Wolfman walk in, see him being all elegant and shit, and after like two mins of staring, they race back to wherever everyone else is and just blab. Goose is mysteriously tight lipped and Ice doesn't believe it for a second. So of course, they all go to the gym and find Mav just LEAPING across the gym, basically flying through the air, and they're all just completely mesmerized.

...AND HE LEAPS AND IS TOTALLY SURPRISED WHEN ICE CATCHES HIM <3

Ice(to the others):...What? Mitchell's not the only one who knows ballet.

Maverick: You have to be better than me at everything don't you...?

#seriously I love this :)#maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #top gun

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lazycowboy666 · 5 months

Text

welcome to lazy re-interprets pre-canon khr pt1/?

- reborn and shamal knew each other pre-canon, in my mind pre-curse!reborn. shamal worked at hayato and bianchi’s family’s house as their live-in doctor. so reborn visits the house on and off to conduct business with shamal or just annoy him and inevitably runs into the two weird kids.

- hayato and bia think he’s the coolest dude ever. tall, black suit, carrying around a fucking lizard, an air of mystery plus a weird anime shadow over his eyes from his fedora. tells them stories about his “adventures” every once in a while, lets them play with his pet lizard(s). he impresses the “everybody cool is also a hitman” on the two kids at an early age, despite the two of them being boss candidates and hitmen being seen as several steps below their status. hayato already had this mindset from latching onto shamal but this was bia’s a-ha moment.

- so while hayato seeks out shamal after he leaves the house bc he’s already imprinted on him as “dad” figure, bia wants nothing to do with that intoxicated, sexist idiot and seeks out this “reborn” dude from her childhood after her own successful runaway from their shit, negligent family. and insanely enough, she does.

- this is where i re-interpret the timeline a little, because it’s already fuzzy in-canon, that she runs into him still pre-curse, pre-dino and declares that he’s going to be her “tutor” on how to become a hitman, bc yes, you are now HER “dad” figure, reborn, and there’s nothing you can do to stop this. (she sits on his stoop à la russel from up—except more menacing—until he finally lets her in.)

- cue léon and mathilda lando apartment scenario with a lizard enclosure rather than a potted plant and less creepy one-sided flirting (though bia is very touch-starved and the occasional, proud head pats reborn gives her are extremely novel to her; she does hold his hand too when she’s scared, similar to how she’d do with her bio dad growing up). basically give me reborn teaching bia how to shoot (fuck canon, this kid can shoot fine), how to conduct surveillance, how to master disguises, how to approach targets unnoticed, etc. the two of them bond especially over their love of insects and bia’s actually the one who shows reborn the weird canon bug-speak thing from daily arc bc y’know, why not. magic mafia.

- flash forward a year or two of this, and suddenly, reborn’s gone, off answering a job offer to end all job offers (you know where this is going). he comes back after a few weeks of radio silence as a fucking toddler and bia, being bia, is just glad he’s still alive. figuring out clothes for him is interesting and now reborn’s teaching her how to sew kid’s clothes to help him out.

- they keep working hits but obviously it’s weird as shit that the guy you’re hiring is now a deformed child, so the jobs start dwindling. bia goes off, gets a bf who treats her like shit and eventually kills him for it (he deserves it), and now people don’t want to hire her bc they think she’ll turn on them. it’s not looking good. until news comes in that the cavallone family’s boss is dying and his one heir is a fucking mess and the power balance is about to shift dramatically and potentially lead to all-out war because the family is nearly in financial ruin and owes a lot of money to a lot of different families and yada yada.

- cue bia being like “hey you know who was raised to be a boss? me. and who raised me to defend myself and kick ass? you.” and knowing “uncle cavallone” aka the 9th cav boss personally from when she was a kid, she drags reborn to their estate to propose her idea and it’s just the usual canon deadly comedic shitshow from there on. there’s a VERY good reason why dino’s fucking afraid of bianchi and it’s not the reason you’d think.

i’ll post more later, because this series is a spore in my brain that’s been lodged there for over a decade now, my personal interests being gokudera and bianchi’s background in particular. i welcome all comments and reblogs!

#khr #katekyo hitman reborn #bianchi #bianchi khr #reborn #reborn khr #gokudera #gokudera hayato #shamal #shamal khr #khr headcanon

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soleilnomoon · 2 years

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OKAY, one more!!! And I'll stop harassing you (for a lil bit) how about Reader scores a spot in a major competition TV show that makes the participants do extreme/weird challenges (think Squid Game but maybe less deadly, or it can be deadly that's up to you). On your first day of the competition Y/N has been partnered with a handsome and over-confident (Gojo!) stranger you instantly despise. Enemies to lovers trope. They have to work together to win or will they just sabotage each other? \o/

hi babylove🥰️🥰️🥰️, you're always so patient for me, i could marry u, yk that??? anyway, i had way too much fun writing this, and if i didn't stop, we'd have a 10k fic on our hands (not that i'm complaining bc you of all ppl know i would write that for u if u ask it of me), but gojo is a menace and relatively tame!!! sort of!!! this def is leaning more towards the squid game route, which is probably why it'll have to have a part 2 (maybe a 3 or a 4, who knows) anyway, yk i'm a sucker for enemies to lovers, that's my ultimate jam ❤️️

3.4k words (shh i know), sfw (slightly suggestive), 18+, mdni; angst, angst, angst; reader is broke as hell and gojo is obnoxious af; the competition is definitely shady, and the host doesn't make anything better, but we all love a good mystery, right? no real warnings other than gojo is a pretty mfer who needs to sit his pretty ass down somewhere.

several stacks of envelopes litter the kitchen table, accompanied by an untouched plate with a now cold breakfast — a poached egg, thin slices of burnt, buttered toast, a few measly grapes, and half of a banana. lukewarm café con leche sits a small mug with a faded design on the front and a chip on the handle, surrounded by torn pieces of napkin, the piles growing by the minute.

a light flickers in and out from above, the last working bulb as the others have all gone out and are too damn expensive to replace; the air conditioner went out a week ago, and, even with the windows open, the heat somehow finds its way into the apartment building, cooking its inhabitants without a second thought.

after staring at a suspicious spot on your wall, your vision blurs and you blink rapidly in the hopes that it’ll return properly. you stopped opening the envelopes after you found the fifth bill. everything is due, and you have nothing to show for it.

“damn it.”

hot, bitter tears roll down your cheeks, ones you ignore and don’t bother wiping away; a pink envelope catches your eye and you grab it without thinking. there’s no return address on the front, but your name is written in an elegant script with silver ink.

you briefly wonder if it’s another wedding invitation, which only makes you laugh out loud — your friends stopped inviting you ages ago, after you kept flaking. a familiar ache plagues your chest, and you rub at it absently; you don’t like thinking about stuff like that, about friends you couldn’t keep, about promises you kept breaking. it was never intentional on your part, not really, but circumstances brought you to where you are now.

there’s no going back.

ripping the envelope open, you don’t see anything inside but a small business card at the bottom. it’s completely black save for an address that’s printed on the front in white ink. blinking repeatedly, you turn the card around, don’t find a name or even a business logo. strange. very, very strange.

“whatever, probably nothing serious.” you toss the card in the trash and clear the kitchen table.

more pink envelopes find you as the week goes on — on the windshield of your car, tucked neatly under your windshield wiper; on top of your keyboard at work, where you look around suspiciously to see who could’ve left it there; and in your tote where you carry groceries, which surprises you as it wasn’t in there before you went into the store.

“fine!” you exclaim loudly, tossing the last envelope onto your messy bed. “i’ll go to whatever stupid address you keep trying to lure me to.” you’re not sure who you’re talking to, but clearly someone desperately wants you to see them. and, after all the bullshit that life’s thrown at you, what do you have to lose?

your life? your dignity? your sanity?

on your day off, you decide to check out the address in question. it’s a little over an hour away, but you don’t care. curiosity gets the best of you, has you driving faster than usual — you tend to stick to the speed limit most days — music blasting as you eat a granola bar, giving yourself a mini-pep talk as you try to guess what could be waiting for you at your destination.

when you arrive, you’re surprised to see a crowd of people outside of an isolated building. you suppose that this is where your mysterious stalker wanted to go, so you keep to the back of the crowd, hoping to just hear what they have to say and leave. the card sits heavily in your wallet; you’re not sure why you brought it with you, but you didn’t want to take any chances — you’re stuck in your thoughts and barely notice the crowd has quieted down significantly, parting swiftly to allow for a tall man to stride through. he’s dressed sharply — slim fit suit with a tie to match, hair neat, face blemish free. everything about him screams elegance, but something about his eyes — the sharpness of his gaze, of how he commands silence without even speaking — sends a chill down your spine.

you’re rarely spooked, but something about him tells you he��s not to be taken lightly.

“welcome, welcome,” he says after a while, a small mic is attached to the lapel of his suit jacket, and stands on the small stage in front of the crowd. you hadn’t noticed it before — probably because you’re all the way in the back, but you strain your neck and try to listen anyway. “you all have been chosen to participate in a competitive show, where you have the chance to win millions of dollars.” that gets the crowd going. you jump when everyone starts shouting and clapping, voicing their approval of the grand prize.

with a tight-lipped smile on, the man continues, “it won’t be easy, but if you put in hard work, it’ll be worth it in the end.” you find that his words are vague enough to absolve him — and whoever is financing this endeavor — of whatever happens should something happen to the participants. no one else seems bothered by this, though, and you know you shouldn’t get hung up on it, but your gut is rarely wrong about these things.

“sounds like a load of shit,” comes a smooth voice behind you; with a slight frown, you turn around and are greeted with a cheeky grin from the person behind you. he has on a pair of dark sunglasses — so dark you wonder how he’s able to see through them — with an all-black attire, a startling contrast to his pallid skin and frighteningly light hair — so silver it’s practically white. you don’t like that his voice is pleasing, you also don’t like the way he shoves his hands in his pockets and tilts his head as he towers over you.

gojo satoru isn’t necessarily strapping for cash, but he loves a good challenge — plus adding more money to his reserve can’t hurt; the idea of fame and fortune is lucrative enough to make him want to participate freely. he’s noticed that most of the people gathered here today are either in dire financial situations or just like the idea of being on TV. he pities them, and you, apparently.

he spotted you immediately when you arrived, having been there early enough to scope out the competition — you were the last one to come, and you didn’t seem apologetic for your tardiness. he runs his tongue along the back of his teeth, noting how pretty you are, despite looking like you don’t want to be bothered — and, naturally, he wants to do just that; push you and see how far you’re willing to let him dig until you snap.

something tells him it’ll be a sight to see.

despite having chugged two energy drinks, you still feel tired. you run a hand through your hair, tugging on a particularly stubborn curl, brown fingers untangling it, fuming when it doesn’t cooperate the way you want it to, as he watches closely. you can feel his eyes on you, but you’re not sure — again, his sunglasses are too dark for you to tell.

“do you need something?” you ask carefully, eyes narrowing, plush bottom lip jutting out as you attempt to figure out his angle. “if not, leave me alone.” you swivel around and face forward again, attempting to tune back in to whatever bullshit they’re trying to sell to the crowd about the competition.

“ouch,” gojo says while rubbing his chest absently, “not the friendly type, huh.” you roll your eyes at that, let out a frustrated breath and keep your face forward.

“something like that,” you mumble, mostly to yourself, but he hears you loud and clear.

“don’t worry, that’ll change soon.” he sounds so fucking sure of himself and it pisses you off. you ball your hands into fists, nails pricking your skin; he notices the tension in your shoulders, in the stiff way you keep your head and neck straight, and snorts quietly. he places a hand on your shoulder and you practically leap out of your skin, shimmying out of his grasp, eyes widening — your brown eyes aflame, your anger bubbling quickly. he laughs and puts his hands up, an apology dangling off his tongue, but you cut him off before he can say anything.

“look, i don’t know what your fucking angle is,” you say venomously, arms crossed over your chest, “but the next time you touch me, i’ll cut your hand off.” you’re not serious, but you hope your face is bitchy enough to deter him from trying that again.

gojo simply laughs and tucks his hands back into his pockets. “noted, shorty.” for some reason, the nickname that never really bothered you before, truly grinds your gears now.

“whatever, just stay away from me.” you move forward to give yourself some space and realize that the man on the stage has disappeared and everyone is being ushered through the front doors of the building by several people in matching uniforms. you hesitate, watching the crowd move away from you and from gojo who — for whatever reason — decides to hang back alongside you.

lips twitching, he glances at you, amused by your standoffish behavior. “scared?”

you blink in surprise, but your brows slope downward as you stare him down. “of what? this?” you scoff and start to walk to the building in question. “never. i’m not afraid of anything.”

this is the first of many lies that you’ll exchange with gojo throughout the duration of the competition.

the interior of the building reminds you of a ritzy hotel — glamorous, expensive, the floors so shiny they can be used as mirrors — and you frown at the thought. you’ve lived in the surrounding area the majority of your life; you’d know if there was a hotel of this caliber here. gojo explains that the building was recently bought and renovated over the past year, which makes sense, but still doesn’t explain why the outside is so bland and empty.

again, you feel an uneasiness crawl into your stomach; something doesn’t feel right. when you look over your shoulder, you see two more uniformed employees stationed at the double doors — almost as if they’re blocking you all in — and others patrolling the area. you try to look around inconspicuously, but eventually follow the others to the main ballroom. it’s more than spacious enough, chairs and tables strategically placed around the room. you take a seat in the back corner and grab one of the complimentary bottles of water that sit on a shiny tray in the middle of the table. it’s an expensive brand that you can’t find readily in stores. you wonder how much it cost to buy so many cases, wonder how many thousands of dollars you could make if you stole them all and drove off without looking back.

the water is surprisingly cool, running down your throat smoothly; you feel refreshed and pissed that it tastes so good — meanwhile you’re stuck refilling your reusable bottles using the crappy tap water back at home. the man in the suit reappears on stage, commanding everyone’s attention as the lights dim. he, once again, welcomes the crowd to the competition.

“before we can begin, there are a few clerical things that need addressing.” his voice booms around the room, and the lights come back on as the uniformed employees make their way around the room, passing out thick packets of paper. “your contract is binding,” the host says gleefully, a sly smirk on his lips, making you narrow your eyes, once again feeling that something is very off about this whole affair. maybe you shouldn’t have come at all.

your chair makes the loudest scraping sound against the floor when you scoot away from the table and stand up. an employee blocks your way and you raise a brow at them, lips pressed together as you attempt to summon all of your patience in order to speak politely.

“please, move out of my way.”

they don’t move and the host turns his watchful gaze towards you. “ah, ah, ah,” he waves a finger in disapproval, “no one can leave until we finish the presentation, okay?” his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, everything about him is fake but something in his tone makes you hesitate before taking a seat again. “excellent” he claps his hands together and continues droning on about the contract. “please read through everything carefully before signing. it’s your standard contract, basically outlining that you cannot sue us if you get hurt while performing some of the stunts.”

murmurs break out amongst the other contestants, to which the host follows up with, “but rest assured, you will all be perfectly safe. all of our courses have been tested, this is just in case, you know? we all need a little guarantee in life, right?” he laughs and the crowd laughs with him — save for you, gojo, and a handful of others. “alright, folks, take your time and hand the contract back to any of the uniformed employees. there’s a section where you can check whether you’d like to continue competing or not.” and, before he steps off the stage, he scans the crowd, and ominously adds, “just know, that it’s in your best interest to stay and see this through ‘til the end.”

“nope,” you mumble to yourself, flip through the thick packet and chew on your thumbnail anxiously. “this shit’s suspicious as fuck.” there’s no way the others can’t see what you see, right? you’re not the only one who thinks all of this is bullshit. you flip to the back page and sigh, opening your water bottle again and taking a small gulp. you turn your head and see gojo — he’s much too tall for the chair, long legs spread as he takes up more space than necessary. he has a sleek jaw, slender nose, and relatively nice lips even if all they do is spew nonsense.

immediately you scoff at the thought, hating yourself just a little the longer you look at him. and then he does the worst thing possible; he takes off his sunglasses, places them neatly on the table, leans back against the chair and closes his eyes. impossible, absolutely impossible. his fair lashes curl delicately around his eyes, and he rubs his eyelids briefly before opening his eyes again.

it’s your fault for deciding on that moment to drink more of the water — water that you choke on — it’s also your fault that you keep looking at him. you knew, even with the sunglasses on, that he was handsome, but this? this was absurd. something much more breathtaking than a diamond, glittering more than gold or silver, he radiates a graceful beauty that pisses you off. he catches you looking at him and the corners of his lips curl upwards as he tilts his head, hair falling over his face from the movement.

“oh, hell,” you say out loud, forcefully squeezing the life out of the water bottle unintentionally, the liquid shooting out of the open top and splashing on your face. a couple people snicker around you, and gojo tries to hide his amusement but fails. irritation prickles underneath your skin, bowling over the embarrassment you feel over spilling water over your self — again, you’re at fault for staring for so long, you should’ve looked away when you had the chance.

your face heats up and you scramble around and grab some napkins to dab up the water.

gojo, meanwhile, focuses back on the contract before him, taking a deep breath before flipping through the pages with his lithe fingers. speed reading is an art that he mastered a long time ago — and contracts weren’t anything difficult, he could read them in his sleep. there are a few predatory clauses that stand out to him, glaringly obvious ones that he’s sure the host banked on the contestants being too ignorant to sort through.

he lifts his head to count the employees again — there are twenty-five currently in the room with concealed weapons, which strikes him as odd; if this is just a competitive game show, then why would they need to be armed? he files that away to investigate later, but more importantly, he’s reached the last page of the contract.

while the host didn’t exactly lie, there are two boxes there — but opting out of this competition before the allotted 30 days are up, puts you in a lottery for the next one, and so forth. basically, you can’t get out of the contract with this unknown corporation, unless you complete the minimum requirements. his theory about the competition falls into place; accepting their invitation is the first step, willingly entering the building is the second, and the third is signing the contract. no matter which option you choose, you’re doomed to compete. he bites his lip and slips his sunglasses onto his face, hating how bright the light is inside.

the contract also outlines the requirements for competing — there are 100 contestants in total, and everyone will be paired off into groups of ten; these groups cannot be changed without clearance from the host or whichever manager is running the game in question.

your brows furrow together as you try to figure out how to get out of this, not wanting — or caring, really — about competing anymore. without you knowing, gojo changes seats so he sits directly across from you.

“i take it you’ve read the contract, right?”

his voice slides down your body, thick like honey, and equally as tempting. you hate it, you hate him, and you hate that you’re actually looking up and engaging.

“obviously,” your voice is clipped, terse, you don’t want to talk to him more than you have to.

“so you know, your best bet is to partner with someone inside the group, right?”

you know what he’s getting at, but you hate that it’s him who is suggesting it.

“your point?” you don’t bother drinking from that villainous bottle of water again for fear of choking in his presence.

it’s cute that you keep pushing back against him, that you don’t want to like him — he can tell. that stubbornness might be your downfall, but he doesn’t hate it; in fact, he might just like that part of you.

“my point,” he leans forward, and you flinch, his cologne a rich, earthy mixture — sandalwood, warm cinnamon, and amber — choking you as he continues talking candidly with you, “is that we should work together. it’s obvious there’s something much more sinister at play here. it’s good to have allies.” you watch the way his mouth moves, take note of how white and straight his teeth are, and for some reason, you’re wondering if running his mouth is all he’s good at.

cheeks aflame, you cough into a closed fist and consider his proposition. “tempting,” you pretend to think it over, but in all honesty, he’s right. but you don’t like it, don’t like that you haven’t found anyone else to partner up with, and don’t like that he might be your lifeline in this competition.

“let’s start with introductions, yeah?” he places his hands flat on the table. “gojo satoru,” he says briskly, and then grins cheekily, “now you.”

you blink slowly and sigh, tugging on your curls in frustration. “fine, i’m y/n.” he already knew that, though; he knows everyone’s name in the room, actually — he’s done his due diligence, he just didn’t think he’d be stuck with a bogus contract. he’s sure they’ve also locked the doors to exit the building too.

“well, y/n,” he drawls, extending a hand for you to shake, “let’s make sure that we come out on top.” you know better than to trust a smooth talker like gojo, but you place your hand in his anyway, surprised at how cool his skin is, and shake it firmly. you hope you’re not making a mistake, hope that your body will stop making you think impossible things about the man before you, and hope that if you must participate in a bogus competition, that you’ll actually win the money.

after all, what will all this be for if you can’t manage to do a simple task like that?

#fic request #this took forever but i am done!!!!#sora i hope u like this ily sm #jjk imagine #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo is a menace without even trying which makes him the worst kind #i can't believe i typed this in a few days who am i

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sappylemons · 1 year

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a shithead for you! extra slime!

evengi lukin, goes by evan professionally, a defense lawyer for the rich and famous who is corrupt up to his fuckin ears. he's one of the first major connections ike made when he ended up in seattle, both keeping him out of legal trouble and striking up a physical relationship, but over the years it's slowly gone from fun fwb to ike wanting nothing to do with him now that he realizes how gross he is (but he hesitates to break off the relationship bc of how much personal damaging info evengi has on him). evengi is oblivious to this. charismatic on a surface level, good at demanding the attention of a crowd but most people find one-on-one interactions with him uncomfortable. he tries to maintain an air of suave mysterious professionalism, but he is a desperate pathetic horny man with zero morals or backbone, and that undercurrent of anxiety that he'll be found out threatens to break through at all times.

#CANNOT overemphasize how much this dude sucks #not pathetic in the fun way pathetic in “every time he shows up i fast forward the episode”#snail mail #falsetestimony #my art #ocs #evengi #i think he's like 35-37? i've never given him a solid age

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1d1195 · 5 months

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SAM MY LOVE I FORGOT TO SEND IN MY FEEDBACK😭

I typically write out my thoughts on my notes app(have a folder just for your stories🤧) bc this is me trying to be organized lol . Anyways this time I did fully put down my thoughts I just forgot to send it through here like a dummy lol BUT I DID NOT FORGET ABT YOU BESTIE!!! So here are my thoughts lol

YOU TRULY KNOW HOW TO KEEP THE STORY GOING IN SUCH A GOOD WAY!!! You know I love anytime Niall shows up in your stories bc you truly write him so well, I NEED HIM!

when i tell you once I read that she unexpectedly feel down, I just knew that Ava was behind bc my heart DROPPED! And then she apologized, my heart felt so sad :( I mean I can't blame her because I do the same thing too and it's a hard habit to break! Then them talking about the eggs... PAIN PAIN PAIN ALL AROUND! But I like it, it keeps the story moving!

Also I am not mad at here for wanting to be friends with him at all! Like personally I would have just been stubborn and guarded but I know I would have folded soon lol BUT THATS WHY I AM NOT HER, SHES HER OWN SELF! And Niall is gone so I don't blame her and shes in love so yeah lol oh and that "munchkin" part 💔💔💔 so good!

NOW I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO HAPPY TO KNOW THAT SOMEONE WAS CHEATING EVER!! like I really felt that Ava was cheating or had cheated on him and like it was so satisfying to see that unfold, like it may sound fucked but it felt nice to know lol And maybe Im feeling just a tad bit petty but I kinda liked to see harry grovel a bit but only a tiny bit! bc it is very hard to get out of a toxic and manipulative relationship and it is something hard too do no matter shitty it was! He does has some healing to do and its a process but still happy for both to be out of it ya know.

And the end... SAM😭😭😭😭AHHHH so so so GOOD!!!!!

Side note I saw that some anon was just being straight up mean and that is not okay. It's one thing to give constructive criticism and that's fair but there is no need for just straight up saying they don't like. we all experienced something not being for us and that's okay but I would never just be mean to that author, ever. And I want you to know for every thing you post no matter what is such a gift! And I want you to never forget how loved and appreciated you are! love you so much!-💜

I'm OBSESSED A WHOLE FOLDER AHHHH 😭 I don't deserve you

I love Niall so much if I wasn't a Harry-girl I would be feral for Niall. Honestly, sometimes I still am. I see tiktoks of him and I'm like 🤤 Personally, I think he should be illegal. He's really fun to write and I wish I could tear myself away from Harry for two seconds to write a fic about Niall.

I'm glad you feel that way about her wanting to be friends. I really wanted to them to NOT be friends but I also would have folded very quickly. I also wanted to keep the plot going and I didn't want to be like *seven months later* because I think the whole Niall moving thing is still fresh so idk it made sense when I did it so I'm glad you're good with it! I love my munchkins 💕

When i started this story I didn't WANT you guys to like Ava but I wanted to keep an air of mystery but I think everyone assumed she was probs doing something worse (not that that makes Harry's thing okay) but again part of my process was ensuring that Ava would sound AWFUL when the time came to announce her secret.

Don't you worry about groveling and healing, I got you covered 🤣

You're so so nice 😭 I have a bit of a pleasing-complex so I feel so bad when I disappoint people. I shouldn't let it get to me but it's easier said than done.

Thank you for your message I love you and your brain so so much 💕

xoxo

#💜#love and dryer sheets

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rawrmeansilyindinosawr · 1 year

Text

BOY BUTT

I MET MR KUNT AT BRPADWAY JUNCTION N I HAV HIS MUMBER . n i HAVLOST MI ASS CUZ OF FALLING DOWN THA STAIRS N A POLTERGEIST SOooooo now I HAV BOy butt. n HONEstly I Tink i also lost it from SAYING DED ASS TOO Mucho I maniFesteD it . :-\

iMADE A REMIX OF KISh ME on A GUITAR W A BROKEN N3cK tht goes LIK DIS .

“Kishh me

under the broadway junction stair case ,,

N let my . balls….

Swing swing ,

Oh so freeeee-eeely .”

i reAlized after snorting K mi friendz nailz in the dress aisle of Goodwill dat i will aLwayz AGREE TO THA golden Rule of Lyfe which is to NEVER step on the black part of the crosswalkz U can ONLY step on the white lineZ or u will LITERALLY DIE . N y is it more often than not , the things that we want r not the things we need and i feel like i’ll always be yearning for something more in store but the emptiness can’t b filled w just more of this n less of that n elaine says no one has good or bad luck just more or less of it .

Tha nxt time a strangwrr in a fox- pikachu costume cums up to meh n mi fwendz Wiff a guitar in tha wick n asks to sing Meh a song i will NO LONGER LIsten But buttle it by more fart jokez. Bc it has been yrs i hav had theese shower thoughts/questions/water based introspection: If u fart is it a culmination of all the farts around u cuz Ur breathing recycled farts in the air in side u ???? N on a. philosophical lvl. Nothing is original bitch. No one is original . Not even ur fooking fartsz.

Im tired of being so sexy and also so funny and also people expecting me to be the intimidating and mysterious and sexy person . I believe in kindness and being an internet troll n i grew up ugly n barely am making it to be kind of sexy within the last few years . So stop putting so much pressure on me Bith . Im literally an empath .

im Nvr going to party with scary Ukrainian fashion photographers again in greenpoint even tho they Hav free pizza <best food group> n their bosses r retired sexy models and also the closest deli near them has a free compOoter . N im done being strangers who drink old coffee at 2am’s outlets n shulder to cry on ab their exs w bpd . Cuz im empathetic to dat but also im tryna strictly VIOBE . N the vibeZ were not there . Plus i had an allergy attack n cried in the bathroom . :-/

i <3 waking up to phone calls at 7am/8am after i tried to induce sleep to myself w my 12MG mellytonin dissolvable tabletz N goin to get happie hour b4 it opens n debating new piercings n brainstorming new tattooz n stealing salt shakerz from restaurants w moi best fwendzzzz. It is so fukin Kold in Nyc n im waiting for my seattle he they cutie to move back to nyc so we can give each other allergy attacks by sniffing 2 many flowers at maria hernandez n then claritin n chill . N show them mi plushies . Cuz rn meow dating lyfe is like casual but I don’t need messy ass ppl . N i don’t believe in ghosting bc every1 deserves to have a convo but Meh . Thts objective lol . n It’s pointless to argue or submerge myself in a convo ive already had w someone where they have historically been defensive n Ugh lames . Only dating ppl like 23+ yr old n up now . :-]

I almost slapped the doggone giv a dog a bone dog shit out of the bouncer at purgatory N also this Girl who accused me of “cutting the line” at Elsewhere when i was guestlisted N also this person who narced on me the beg of the Yr at tha party but i chose world peace . N zen . N kava over stogies now . Smh . Miso soup over mala base , red hot chili peppers over deftones . Hot cheetos over takiz. Smh . i rly need my karma to reverse .

werk has been alrite n im soooo sad sag season is almost over . I realized i love cucumbers so much the last few wks n i am not afraid to show n tell ab it . i Love all the saggitiusrss in my life n i hav luved the consecutive bday parties ive gone to the last few weekz in which ppl have fallen asleep in their wolf costumes after doing One bump of K and screaming at Alexa to play Sleeping wiff sirenz. N trying to go to tinas but their hours r weird now apparently so we all end up at Sum random Dunkin Donut Hole place where my ex used to yell at meh at 6am . N i luv all of the he theys i hav met within the last few weekz who drink white clawz n have pretty faces n All the goth girls who also have snakebites who Kiss me n tell me if i wanted a sprite they would buy me a sprite . tho the tru drug of choice here is Vanilla coke , i Am extremely flattered . <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

ive been spending alot more time on tumblr cuz it Just feelzz rite n wayyyy better cuz now PORN ;0 isback here. n idk if yall rly kno but ya . tumblr is likebACK cuz twitter is kinda lamess now. sigh . playing in Parks w ex situationships r fun n even fugging in Bars called Bar r fun but i almost got choked out by my Ali express vivienne westwood necklace at the playground N tht shuld hav been a sign I shuld hav went home. idk y i alwayzz put mi heart on tha line 4 Ppl i kno kant rly take kare of it the way i want 2. Im Goin to b working my last shift at holiday market Thurs evening then going to LA p much rite after s000000. Ima try to pull sum rockstar shit there nalso make 100 dumplings w my mummy for xmas even tho Lunar yr is technically way better n Idk why We as taiwanese ppl even care ab xmas so much butt.

My boy butt says BYE!!!!!!! n Til nxt week ?! <3

xoxoxoX0 , meunster cheeze is not monsterous Believer/civil rites activist/where do i find gahndi fan fiction online/lactose intolerance lactaid pills thtr expired dnt work save urself n ur liver advocate , renny ;]]

#blog

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trubilee · 1 year

Text

12.30.2022

Wanna type instead of handwrite bc it’s a speed thing.

“smell the roses” by Cecily is my hook lately. something about that one morning right after it had just rained and the wet yellow leaves matted the sidewalks and streets and looking out at that on Garfield as I inhaled the cool damp fresh air felt so good and right. so now the song is on repeat. def some maggie rogers-esque vibes and I felt validated when Paul agreed.

from the worship artist tiffany h’s sm (i had specifically mentioned to paul early in the year that she’s someone whose humility seemed so palpable and I think of worship singers as writers): i am humbled . . . . it is not because i deserve it. i have found my reward in YOU ALONE. all these things are added blessings, but they are NOT the prize. may i never forget that you’re the reward at the end of all this. oportunity is an honor and it’s fun and exciting. but it WILL NOT fulfill me. it WILL NOT sustain me. you have become my portion, the one that fulfills and sustains my heart. may i never get this backwards. . . . it’s all i have to bring. i pray that my life pleases you. eyes on you, my treasure.

unfortunately (or maybe this doesn’t matter), regular music is so much catchier than Christian tunes.

from july 2016:

“don’t wear yourself out tryingn to get rich; restrain yourself!

riches disappear in the blink of an eye;

wealth sprouts wings

and flies off into the wild blue yonder.”

prov. 23:4-5

“do not toil to acquire wealth; be discerning enough to desist. when your eyes light on it, it is gone, for suddenly it sprouts wings, flying like an eagle toward heaven.”

(same verse)

also from 2016:

this life is yours, in this moment with you now, exactly where you are. so adorn it. decorate it and dance with Him.

“i want you woven into a tapestry of love, in touch with everything there is to know of God. then you will have minds confident and at rest, focusd on Christ, God’s great mystery. all the richest treasures of wisdom and knowledge are embedded in that mystery and nowhere else. and we’ve been shown that mystery. (Col. 2:2-4)

the reality of God’s presence with you, now and forevermore, outshines any fantasy you could ever imagine.

your value is based on doing what God wants you to do and being who God wants you to be. you have to shake the other things off violently.

even productivity: He values it differently.

worshiping God, it will help you not decorate yourself and want to decorate God.

the more I know God, the more I know that i only need to be faithful to what God has given me. my conscience is clear. i’m faithful. not any less than the other people who are faithful to what they’ve been given. i’m confident that i’ll receive my reward. it’s not about greater or less. it is my reward.

instead of “i’m so sorry. i am so undeserving. let me do something that qualifies me. i have to make myself qualified to match _____. who i think i should be.” rather, it can be: i wanna be someone who is thankful. i wanna be a vessel of love. a worshiper. my life, in all circumstanes. not just a singer singing on the stage.

ok back to 2023:

i wonder if reading through the Message Bible this year would be a more fun project than i expected. mmm.

re: work. reading uncanny valley was illuminating. i think that one thing i may need to fight actively is having some inflated notion that my work is so important and so interesting and so complex. i think it was easier to be humble when i was at disney bc it was storytelling, and for kids, and it was art and rich in that particular kind of media creativity and at the end of the day it all revolved aroudn the movie theater which is not where anyone goes to change the world. but here, everything feels more “cutting edge”… everything i do i am faced with whenever i open up my computer or my phone or just any screen. and suddenly i have access to, a deeper knowledge about, an industry and language and ecosystem that i used to feel too dumb and a bit simpleton for.

on the other hand. on the other hand. i’m at a sort of peace, an equilibrium. it’s a luxury that i did not imagine i could ever have in this career. where truly, truly even if i had done everything right in college and law school and afterwards, then maybe (but not guaranteed) i’d have at best a decent shot at getting to the position i am now. how outrageous, how unjust. I

i am so grateful for this job. it’s interesting and it makes more money (esp in ratio to how fun and accomodating and interesting it is) than i ever imagined a law job this interesting and manageable could make. sometimes i worry that i am enjoying it too much in a way. for the first time my work is challenging in a way that doesn’t defeat me and make me shut down and set boundaries, but kind of excites me and spurs me on a bit. and i wonder how much of it is the koolaid that i’m drinking vs how much of it is this question from YiS that i keep asking myself about this which is: can i evolve? is this just what happens when i evolve into a mom who works at a law job she no longer scoffs at or patronizingly sort of scuttles neatly into a corner? should i be less afraid / in denial about integrating work into life, into my identity and my enjoyments, a bit more?

so many good nuggets from the book that I wanted to turn over:

‘I had never really considered myself someone with a lifestyle, but of course I was, and insofar as I was aware of one now, I liked it. The tech industry was making me a perfect consumer of the world it was creating. It wasn’t just about leisure, the easy access to nice food and private transportation and abundant personal entertainment. It was the work culture, too: what Silicon Valley got right, how it felt to be there. The energy of being surrounded by people who so easily articulated, and satisfied, their desires. The feeling that everything was just within reach.”

All these people, spending their twenties and thirties in open-plan offices on the campuses of the decade’s most valuable public companies, pouring themselves bowls of free cereal from human bird feeders, crushing empty cans of fruit-tinged water, bored out of their minds but unable to walk away from the direct deposits—it was so unimaginative. There was so much potential in Silicon Valley, and so much of it just pooled around ad tech, the spillway of the internet economy.

It seemed to me that whatever I had, that the men of Silicon Valley did not, was exactly what I had been trying to sublimate for the past four years. Working in tech had provided an escape from the side of my personality that was emotional, impractical, ambivalent, and inconvenient—the part of me that wanted to know everyone’s feelings, that wanted to be moved, that had no apparent market value.

I still clung to the belief that I could find meaning and fulfillment in work—the result of over two decades of educational affirmation, parental encouragement, socioeconomic privilege, and generational mythology. Unlike the men, I didn’t know how to articulate what I wanted. Safer, then, to join a group that told itself, and the world, that it was superior: a hedge against uncertainty, isolation, insecurity.

These motivations were not aging well. In reality, there was nothing superior about those whom I was trying to impress. Most were smart and nice and ambitious, but so were a lot of people. The novelty was burning off; the industry’s pervasive idealism was increasingly dubious. Tech, for the most part, wasn’t progress. It was just business.

because I was repeating myself. I was looking for stories; I should have seen a system. The young men of Silicon Valley were doing fine. They loved their industry, loved their work, loved solving problems. They had no qualms. They were builders by nature, or so they believed. They saw markets in everything, and only opportunities. They had inexorable faith in their own ideas and their own potential. They were ecstatic about the future. They had power, wealth, and control. The person with the yearning was me.

In the grand tradition of affluent white Americans living in coastal cities in times of political crisis and social upheaval, I had turned inward. I thought we had it in the bag. I saw Silicon Valley as an unstoppable train; I had bought into tech’s self-flattering grandiosity, and trusted things would turn around in its favor. I didn’t know who was more delusional: the entrepreneurial class, for thinking they could change the trajectory of history—or me, for believing them.

Certain unflattering truths: I had felt unassailable behind the walls of power. Society was shifting, and I felt safer inside the empire, inside the machine. It was preferable to be on the side that did the watching than on the side being watched.

so i am excited to be looking for new bras and cheeky underwear for this year. finally too! when i was wearing the same two bralettes during postpartum i swore i’d throw them away as soon as i stopped bfeeding and pumping. i need to listen to myself and toss them, i’ve been putting it off bc the faded colors aren’t any more faded and so i’ve just been keeping them around. i also wonder if i need to revisit and purge my loungewear.

baby steps though. this year—well, more the latter third of the year—i started being interested in having lovely things again. wow, it felt like it had been a long time. i bought new blush, received new blush. i have a lot of blush now, one for each other item of makeup i own. i got a new purse, nothing designer, just a jaquard one that i may be the only one who loves. a couple scarves to replace the moth hole ridden one i’d had for the past 10 years. i wanted to buy new lipstick too but then i got sidetracked by trying to repair my dried cracked lips first. so first things first. was putting on kerasal for a couple weeks there to help out with my foot calluses. jean got me a nuface and i felt the luxury of pampering myself with those microcurrents, i should probably try resuming back to that. tried out guasha finally this month and really felt good and like i was taking care of myself hehe.

the jog i went on last night as a little bit magical and wow the way it feels to be out of breath and a little bit hot—what a bit of a forgotten sensation! but this morning my body was so sore lol. owwww. on one hand it’s just DOMS but on the other it’s like that body achey feeling you get right before you get sick. i’ll be hitting the pavement again though at some point. it was not perfect but it was a little bit splendid.

yeah. 9 out of 10 weekday mornings i get a little bit happy and swelly and excited about the work that the day contains. no idea where that comes from.

i wrote about jonas. my gawd, i wrote about jonas. i am so proud of myself for putting myself thru that exercise. CP called it an excavation and i felt so accomplished hearing that bc it was like, yeah, that was an excavation, and yeah, it did feel like i was scraping away at my own insides sometimes, the nausea and the sickening discomfort of it.

peter died at the start of this week. i drove annie and patrice from the airport to the hospital to see him while he was still somewhat lucid and then back to the airport afterwards. the group texted about transferring him to hospice care finally and they encouraged us to send our text messages of encouragement to him so that his cousin could read them to him before he got too much under painkillers. i put it off and i resolved to definitely write a message after bc at the time i was driving in the car w paul and wes and kian and i would have to do some forensic work to find peter’s phone number and i just kind of didn’t think about it but the next morning we found out he’d gone to be with Jesus. i want to say that i will never put something off again. i don’t want to procrastinate again. not on things that relate to people. i’m not even sure he would’ve remembered me too even if i had sent it. but i should’ve—i wish i had sent a message. he was so encouraging, so full of light and love every time he talked on those monday calls. and of course including when he talked to me on those calls. consistently.

phone call w Annie and the latest potentially good update on Patrice’s tumors.

new york for gobi’s wedding was definitely such a beautiful fun weekend. can’t believe how much fun i had.

remembered a couple weeks before when i was in ny for the work summit that it’s kind of a lie to fantasize about any sort of life from before the kids. i want the life i have now, in california, with paul, being wes and kian’s mom. and wow, getting to be near omma and appa and daisy and notcch. just wow.

my time at this library is running out and i usually feel like i want to write so so much in the mornings but right now i dont know what to think of.

for my next book to read i’m deciding between deacon king kong (per cp’s rec) and my year abroad (started but got very little read before moving on) or the mandy smith one.

and what to write next? i dont know. i have nothing left to exorcise. feels like there is a lot of blank space before me. dunno.

a book about molly. a book about molly-who-is-really-trubilee. a piece with pub in mind about the jonas thing. a short story? maybe a short story instead of an article/piece about the jonas thing?

i am 36 now. i don’t really know if i want to set any goal (singular. goal) for 2023 because lately i feel like i’ve been more open on a daily, weekly basis to doing one thing better or trying out another thing. like i’m getting closer sometimes to the things i want to do for myself or see, but this time i don’t declare it on paper and tie it to the year X and it’s just a part of my more natural passage of time.

it would be nice to read some more of the Bible though. that Message version. yes. that one. just a page here, a page there. yep.

maybe try out jogging when i feel like it too. but again, this is something i had already just started doing. those 2 things. Bible as a part of my day and a touch of jogging when the mood hits.

“in repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength” (Is. 30:5)

hi God.

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