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lethalchiralium · 6 months

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Mirrorball | John Price x F!Reader

a/n: me?? posting??? in this economy?? unheard of. this is definitely not me writing needy price whaaaat

warnings: mentions of injury, trauma

summary: You’re trying to sleep, but someone wakes you up with a long awaited phone call. OR, John’s outside of your door, begging for forgiveness.

It was a work day tomorrow and someone had the audacity to call you in the middle of the night. Your eyes tried to blink away the murkiness of sleep as you answered the call, not even paying attention to the ‘Unknown Caller’ blinking at the top of the screen.

“Hey.”

Your head fell back into your pillow, your hand holding your phone to your ear.

“Yes, John.”

“Don’t be that way.”

Your hand gripped your phone a little more, now that you were waking up more.

“Well, seeing that it’s…” You pulled the phone from your ear, looking at the time on the screen, “2:45 in the morning on a Tuesday, you’re only calling ‘cause you’re bored.”

There was a scoff on the line. “Why can’t you just accept that maybe I’m worried about you?”

Your eyes were still closed, your eyebrows furrowed and you mumbled, “Tell me what you want or I’m hanging up.”

There was silence. Just the warmth that flooded through your chest every time you heard his low breathing; a signal, a waypoint, your reminder that no matter how much you want to turn away, there’s no escape from your desperate need for John Price. Your fingernails dug into your pillowcase, tears that have broken glass now soak the silk underneath your head. You could almost smell the rich tobacco that seemed to envelop his clothes and his worn skin - he was the feeling of sunlight reflected on shattered glass. Shining just for you.

You could imagine his hand curling your hair behind your ear, his soft lips pressing kisses into your hairline, your shoulder, your spine. You had memorized the way his hand would gently graze over your side, featherlight movement as he would whisper his promises, his mantras, but ignore your desires.

“M’here.”

Even in your half-asleep state, you felt a rush of confusion.

“You were in Afghanistan last night.”

“I lied.”

“You seem to do that often, John.”

Silence again. Your eyes opened to your dimly light room, the small light plugged into your wall helped you make out everything in your room. The jacket of his that still was tossed over the back of your favorite chair, most of his clothes hung in your closet - deep browns and dreary grays that were pressed against your bright blues, greens, and yellows. His breathtaking fiancé dressed in all of the colors that made you feel happy - but all were a farce, a lie wrapped up in a fairy tale. You weren’t happy. How could you be happy when your whole world decided to break your heart?

“Tell me what you want or I’m hanging up, John. I mean it.”

Silence. You could hear the quiet bustle of Liverpool outside your window, the street lamp’s warm light hidden by your dark curtains. Curtains he used to move at this time of night to open your window, he would burn the end of his cigar and watch the city lights.

Now, he stood outside your front door, without even a knock.

“What I did to you wasn’t right, I knew that then and I know that now. Screaming at you and telling you I never wanted to see you again was the biggest mistake of my life. I love you. And love isn’t supposed to be like that. I-I was… I was scared. I am scared. I’m scared of what you think of me, I was scared of what almost happened to me, I’m terrified to lose you.”

“Stop.”

“Please. I’m here.”

“What do you want, John?”

“I want come home.“

Another pause.

“Please let me in.”

Your stomach lurched.

You hated that you sat up, lethargic body dragged behind your mind as you silently made your way to your front door; cold phone pressed to your ear. He was a warm light, you were like a late night moth - hearing the familiar hum of one John Price.

“I’ll do anything, love. Please.”

You stretched your arms as you stood on your tallest tip toes, it reminded you of spinning on your highest heels, just for him. You could remember his hands, gentle on your hand and waist as he had laughed deeply in that ballroom all those years ago. The way his touch never differed from anything gentle or soft, even as he held your hips in late nights, pulling loud moans and cries from you as he fucked you passionately. The way he whispered your name like gospel as you sobbed into his chest. It was impossible to forget what he’s done for you - and what actions he made that caused you pain.

He was made of a broken spotlight, his light reflected on you. Your mirror pieces had fell long ago, your fingers still bleed from picking up your shards, from pressing them into place so when he came around, you would reflect his slowly dimming light just like a mirror ball.

Your hand pulled open the door, gazing at the man you so painstakingly loved - face dirty, scarf disheveled around his neck, beanie snug on his head. You didn’t care that his rough hands gripped your hips, metaphorically pressing in the glass shards like always. He pulled you to him, your face landed in his scarf as he wrapped you in his freezing embrace. You moved to rest your chin on top of the scratchy wool, your lips right next to his ear.

“Are you hurt?”

He walked both of you into the apartment, skillfully kicking the door closed as he held you tighter. A fist on your lower back, a steel grip on your shoulder as his nose was firmly pressed into your (bonnet/hair). You could feel his chest, how it didn’t dare expand - he was holding his breath. As if he let you slip, that the mirrorball he adored would shatter into a thousand pieces. Your hand pushed into the back of his ribcage, moving in soothing circles.

“Breathe, John.”

You expected a harsh exhale, something loud in your ear, but all you received was a soft sigh through his nose. The freezing clothes that clung to him began to warm, his heartbeat erratic - you could feel it in his back, right behind his heart.

“Are you hurt?” You asked again.

He didn’t answer, silence was his weapon of choice now. He was full of words on the phone, telling you things you wished to hear earlier - oh shit, your phone. The phone you dropped on the floor before opening the door, hopefully it wasn’t broken. You had so many of him on there. So many photos of him hanging off your arm, lips pressed against your soft skin, eyes gazing lovingly at you.

“What do you need?”

You need me. I know you like the back of my hand.

That’s when he let go, pulling away from you to show fresh tears on his flushed face. Your eyes widened with concern, you tried to reach his face but his hands intercepted yours - holding them with a firm grip.

“I don’t need you to forgive me.” His voice was melancholy, a melody of grief and fear that you had never heard before. “I am an awful man. Rubbish. I hurt the one good thing in my life because I thought you hating me would be easier for me to die with.”

Your stomach coiled up into a knot, tight and uncomfortable.

Your fiancé held back a sob as he spoke, “I got hit. I almost died, all I could think about was how much you would hate yourself because I made you hate me. I don’t want that. I want to be by your side forever, I want you to put me in my place, I want you to take everything from me because I am not worthy of anything without you.” His hands squeezed yours. “I want to lay beside you for as long as I live. I want to only know you for the rest of my life. I want to do everything you ask of me.”

“What do you need, John?” Your voice softer than ever before.

He blinked away tears. “I need you to teach me how to truly be a better man. I need you to guide me. I need you to love me. I need you.”

You had told yourself a thousand times that he would never crawl on his knees to you, that his pride would destroy you, that he would never show weakness to you - but here he was. Showing his belly, giving you the chance to deliver the final blow.

You supposed he was waiting for it. Waiting for your teeth to sink in and rip him apart like a chew toy, scream at him until your voice ran hoarse, push him away until he fell onto his ass. But… you couldn’t. You were ready to walk away from him ten minutes ago, but now it’s… terrifying. Walking away from the one thing keeping you whole.

You squeezed his hands. “Marry me, John Price.”

His eyebrows furrowed, he was about to question you. But you spoke again. “Marry me today and show me that all that you said was a promise.”

He didn’t nod for long as he let go of your hands, grabbed your face and kissed you - pushing your head backwards as he pressed his entire body to you. You didn’t care anymore if he cut himself on your glass, you were sure he would fix the edge just to keep you happy.

Keep you spinning like his favorite mirrorball, shining just for him.

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itsmythang · 5 months

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Fascism (/ˈfæʃɪzəm/ FASH-iz-əm) is a far-right, authoritarian, ultranationalist political ideology and movement, characterized by a dictatorial leader, centralized autocracy, militarism, forcible suppression of opposition, belief in a natural social hierarchy, subordination of individual interests for the perceived good of the nation or race, and strong regimentation of society and the economy.

Some characteristics of Fascism include a cult of personality at the top, a sense of victimhood, hyperbolic nationalism, control of the mass media, a disregard for human rights, a need to eliminate perceived enemies, and rigid traditional general roles. Regardless of whether they like it or not, no matter how they deny the truth, the Fascist Republican party is led by an Authoritarian they treat like a God.

He claims victimhood to justify calls for vengeance. He is a snowflake who screams everyone is out to get him. A hyperbolic sense of nationalism led directly to the violence of January 6 when he invited, incentivized, and sent Domestic Terrorists to attack the United States Capital. He dominates the media. They spread his lies, and are hyper-focused on his every breath.

Forced birth is a repression of human rights, and enforcement of rigid gender roles. The Fascist Republican Party believes opponents are “Vermin”, inhuman repose who should be eliminated. The truth is a bitter pill to swallow. Democrats are all that stand between the implementation of an Authoritarian who will surround himself with rabid yes-men.

They do not believe in Democracy. It is incumbent on all of us, our duty as part of a Civil Body Politic to speak Truth to Power: Fascist Republicans will end Democracy. The nation that is our heritage, our birthright, forged in blood, generational sacrifice, and sheer determination will not be recognizable. The Fascist Republican Party or Democrats. That is America’s real choice in 2024. Vote for Democrat Joseph R. Biden, or the Fascist Republican Donald John Trump who will be an authoritarian tyrant. If he wins the American Experiment will end.

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chronic-ghost · 11 months

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Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

rating: M (just for language)

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 5619

summary: you're a human lie detector-- so you tell the handsome man at the Jim Bo’s Burger Barn at 3AM. Too bad you're too drunk to catch up to his lies.

warnings: language, references to drugs/cartels, drinking, smoking, this one is pretty tame, no use of y/n

a/n: this is my Poker Face adjacent fic and inspired by the scene where Javi so innocently flirts with that american wife in the lounge. might become a series but not quite sure yet. lemme know which direction I should take this, if I should take it anywhere at all!

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You attract trouble.

You attract trouble like you put on your nicest dress, did your hair, fixed up your tits, and doused yourself in trouble-pheromones. Like you found trouble curled up on the side of the road, sad and alone like a lost dog, and you gave it a cookie and now it swings around your ankles, always moments away from knocking you on your ass. Except it’s not a dog, it’s a chimpanzee that’s finally snapped and it’s pissed– it’s beating on the bars of its cage, it’s yowling, howling, it’s coming after you to eat off your goddamn face and–

Okay, back up a bit.

You have a thing that gets you into trouble. No, not like a self-destructive habit or a weird twitch. It’s not drugs or alcohol or even a dumbass ex. It’s this thing you’ve always been able to do, always known, and because of your big mouth, it’s always gotten you into hot water with the wrong people.

You know when someone is lying. Don’t ask how. It’s a thing. But you know, without a shadow of a doubt, if what’s coming out of someone’s mouth is the God’s honest truth or total and utter bullshit.

You know when someone is lying and generally, folks don’t really appreciate it when you a) catch them on a lie and b) call them out on it. You and your big mouth.

Okay, that’s two things that get you into trouble, but it’s primarily the lying thing and the mouth thing is more or less a fun bonus. Used for good or evil, or whatever.

The point – the point is – you know when someone is lying. Every single time. So, sure, the audience may say, it’s a weird quirk, kinda bizarre, may or may not be difficult to prove, but trouble? Real actual trouble? How could you possibly get into chimpanzee-face-eating trouble with just this little thing?

Well, rather easy actually. If you don’t have any particular skills, that is. If you barely finished high school, and street smarts was the only kind of smarts they were selling the day your mom smacked you on the ass and told you to find your way in the world. It was hard keeping a job too. Minimum wage living is terrible, especially when the customers lie to you, or to each other, or to their children. Even worse when management lies about why there’s no cash payout this month or why they’re late with this month’s checks. Getting by is fucking hard as shit, but when you know there’s something wrong being done and you’ve got this big fucking mouth, well, you’ve never been one to not court trouble.

Maybe trouble is easier to find because you like to wave and flirt with it when you drive by. Give a little wink.

You work here, you work there. Nothing serious. Always temporary. And then, one day, during your shift as a maid at the Economy 99 on route 10, the elderly night guard asks if you’ve ever played poker.

Nah, you say. Go Fish, that’s really your game.

So he offers to teach you, along with a few of the other maids and staff waiting around for someone to blow chunks in the swimming pool because you always managed to find the really classy places.

Okay, so you barely finished high school, you don’t have real marketable skills, you’ve got a big mouth and you’re not afraid to use it and –

– and –

You’re really fucking good at poker.

And who here would like to venture a guess as to why?

You always know when someone is lying and what is poker if not Advance Bullshit for Adults? Fuckin’ Astronomical Physics for Liars and Dumbasses. Hell, you gotta fuckin’ PhD in Bovine Excrement and it’s time you graduated to the big leagues. Sayonara community college, hello Stanford for Assholes.

Okay, maybe that’s just regular Stanford.

You learn to hustle too. Lose a few rounds so they don’t catch onto you and can’t accuse you of anything as you wipe their clocks clean. You change your name too, in different towns, in different back alley poker halls, because unfortunately the poker and casino community in this place is too small.

This place being all of the United States.

You can’t exactly go online and work your literal magic– you gotta at least see or hear the person to know if they’re lying. Bluffing over pixels just isn’t the same. Isn’t sexy enough.

So, with your big mouth and exceptional poker skills, you go hunting off the coast. It was an invite only poker tournament in Florida. You hadn’t managed to burn your ‘Marlene Green’ identify just yet and she was fucking crushing it up and down the east coast. You barely blinked at the ten grand buy-in– baby money, suckers ducks, little Tikes casino royale.

This was also the last one, you told yourself. One for all the marbles.

Because the thing about disreputable poker halls, they tend to be filled with unpleasant, disreputable, very angry characters that, like a chimpanzee, will rip your face off and eat it if they think they’ve been cheated.

Exit strategy. Mama always said you gotta have an exit strategy. Well, Mama said a lot of things and the actual literal exit strategy was Monterey Marina with a gorgeous trawler for sale. Older than shit, but damn that baby could purr. You were gonna take the money, offer up stone-cold cash (no questions asked), and sail off into the sunset. Or, well, sunrise because you were definitely getting the fuck out of Florida.

But here it comes, the real kick in the goddamn teeth, the real screw in the rack. This is where your mouth and your talent– gift, power, is this a fucking superhero movie?– whatever– tended to get all mishmashed with one other thing that always– and you mean always– got you in the hot seat. Got you in Trouble, with a capital T, that rhymes with P and stands for pool hall – breathing down your neck.

You alway had shitdumb, bad, fucking luck.

So it’s not some lowtime, grumpy townies you piss off when you win the pot, it turns out its members of a goddamn drug cartel! And they are PISSED.

P-I-S-S-E-D

You don’t wanna ask the barrel of their guns if they’re going to kill you because you don’t actually want to be sure of their answer, so you’ve got your hands up, thinking this is definitely it– I’ve played my last hand, I’ve sunk my last boat, I’ve cursed my last fuck– when police sirens go off. It’s not a relief, but a distraction.

You’ve got a big mouth, wacky abilities, and reflexes like someone who’s been running their whole life. You smash a bottle against the back of the head of the blonde one closest to you, flip the table– chips and bullets go flying– and with the case holding the winnings still in your hands, you sprint out the back door.

To your lovely Chevy Camaro waiting for you.

And you drive.

“And I drive and I drive and I drive, all the way down to this lovely little diner in . . .”

You swivel on the red seat, nearly knocking over the five little plastic bottles of Crown Royal on the counter that is making your head thick and puffy. You squint at the sign that boasts the best burgers in – “Texas, yes, thank you, Texas! Lone Star State. The most hated state, of all fifty of them, for Wile E Coyote. His nemesis. His haunting. His apocalypse now . . .”

The man seated next to you, the same man who’s been there for an hour, quietly listening to you drunkenly ramble at the counter of Jim Bo’s Burger Barn, smirks. His mustache twitches.

“Why is it the Wile E Coyote’s least favorite state?”

Your mouth drops at him. You slouch as though indignant about his very question. “Roadrunner, duh, state bird of the Lone Star State. That and blue bonnets. I mean, the flower. Blue bonnets are the state bird and the road runner is the state flower of the Looney Star State . . . wait . . .”

He laughs, softly, his elbows under him as he leans forward on the counter, his brown jacket looking like it smells amazing. Drunker than you meant to be, you eye him from his classic cowboy boots, up his hips, and to the edges of that lovely brown jacket as it hangs around his waist. He has the prettiest eyes.

“You were saying something about driving here?” He asks, very much aware of your shameless staring. “Do you still have that money?”

“Sure, sure,” you mutter and turn back to your chocolate milkshake that’s pretty much just chocolate soup at this point. You snatch up a remaining fry from your long gone burger and swirl it in the soup. “Got the keys and the money locked up tight. I worry more about someone fucking with my baby more than the money, you know. Lots of sentimental value in that car. ‘Is where I lost my virginity.”

At that, the man sputters on his coffee, his third of the night. Black, almost as dark as his hair.

You sigh, frowning into your lumpy, ice-creamy soup. “So hard to get laid when you’re running for your life.”

You swivel back to him as he’s patting his jacket dry of coffee. “Wait. You.”

“Me what?” You think his cheeks warm pink for a moment.

“What the hell are you doing out here at 3AM, listening to me babble endlessly? You don’t look shifty, but maybe you are.”

He smirks again and tosses his napkins into the now empty coffee mug.

“I’m Javi,” he says in a deep, soothing voice as he extends his hand across to you. You take it, with the proper amount of trepidation. “And I’m on my way to see my niece in Flagstaff.”

You click your tongue and withdraw your hand, disappointed. “Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, your name is definitely Javi.” You pick up your own coffee mug and see that it’s unfortunately empty. You pick out some fleck that’s fallen into it. “Well, almost – is that short for something? – but you are definitely not on your way to see your niece in Flagstaff. Does she not live in Flagstaff or . . . do you not even have a niece?” You gasp, mouth agape. He has the decency to look uneasy. His eyes narrow at you. You scoff. “That is fucked up, hombre. Starting off a conversation with a lie is not a good way to make a friend.”

“Why do you think I’m lying?”

You roll your eyes, the coffee cup dangling loosely in your fingers. “We’ve been over this, my dude. See the court documents. Jeez, how hard is it to order a refill at three in the morning? Paragraph B, Subsection I’m really fucking good at poker. I don’t think, I know. I have this thing, always had, and when people lie to me, I . . . wriggle. Squirm. Not exactly ‘spoiled lunch meat’ but not ‘just clocked a hottie from across the bar and I like their vibes’ either.”

He watches as the waitress, glaring, comes over and refills your mug. You immediately dive into five packets of sugar, shredding them like a racoon with a bag of popcorn.

“But I don’t take it too personally,” you continue, flicking the sugar packet to make sure every single crystal falls into the cup. “People lie all the time. About stupid shit too. I don’t think they even mean to do it. It just happens.”

“Does it bother you? That people lie?”

“Eh. Once upon a time. But fuck, if you could hear the bullshit firehose that comes outta people’s mouths on the daily, you’d stop shaking it off too, if you know what I mean.” Satisfied that you’d be able to see through both time and space with your sugar high, you take a sip. Needs milk. You reach across his plate, wobbling on the edge of the seat, his chest inches from your forearm, and snag the little tin milk pitcher. Your cup becomes more milk than coffee. “People lie for the best of reasons, mostly. Or at least, best for them. Either to save hurting someone else's feelings or their own. We humans don’t like pain, generally, as a rule. But rules are meant to be broken, I suppose.”

Javi, or as close to his real name as you’re going to get, is quiet. That tends to be more of his natural state, given that he had barely said two words while you recounted the past few weeks to him whether he wanted it or not. You sip your coffee again, delighted to have found the right balance of sugar, milk, and burnt coffee, when he taps the rim of his mug with his nail.

“I do have a niece, but she lives in Austin. Haven’t seen her in a while, actually, but I want to.”

“Oh, yeah?” That was all true. You bend forward, eyes trying to watch him as you sip the delicate, hovering brown line that threatens to spill over the edge of the cup. “What’s stopping you from seeing her?”

“Work.”

Well, that was fucking ominous.

“Wait. Fuck. What do you do for a living?”

Javi slides off the seat and turns those slim hips towards you and, like a fucking idiot, you just now register the bulk at his waist.

You whimper. Of course the one nice person who wanted to spare you a second glance was from the cartel. They found you. Somehow they tracked you down to the middle of nowhere, which was exactly what you wanted when you still had your life ahead of you. But now it seemed like a terrible fucking idea because there was no one around to at least make sure Baby Girl Camaro went to a good home.

“Ah, fuck. Fuck! That’s a gun. Fuck, you’re gonna kill me right here in this goddamn diner,” you whine and put your head on the counter, hands covering the back as if you were preparing for a tornado.

He sighs. “I’m not going to kill you.”

Truth.

“Then what do you want with me?” You glare at him, bleary-eyed. “Because the whole cover as a kindly stranger with baby cow eyes is officially fucking blown, my guy.”

“Let’s go outside and – wait, what? Baby cow eyes? What the hell does that mean?”

“What? You’ve never watched Dr. Pole? TV veterinarian?” You unwind from your prone position and frown at him. “He takes care of those little baby cows, lookin’ up at their mama with those big, sweet, gentle, loving brown eyes. Cutest thing in the world. Almost made me wanna give up beef for a whole two minutes. But seriously, dude, there’s this hamburger joint in Miami that makes you just wanna lick the juices right off your fingers– hey!”

He grabs you by the upper arms and, as casually as a kidnapping can go, hauls you out of the diner. The bell above the door rings joyfully as he pulls you through.

The reality of your situation hits you like a sixteen-wheeler truck and tears spring up in your eyes as panic bites into your spine. His grip is like iron around your bicep.

“Dude, I’m so sorry I rambled on like that but I swear I didn’t know who you were. Please, please don’t kill me – o-o-or hurt me. Please don’t take me back to the cartel. You can have the money, I swear, j-j-just take it–,”

His eyes widen and immediately lets you go. The neon sign and lights of the diner behind him blur his face in shadow. You wipe at your eyes.

“Lady, look, if you’re gonna survive on the run from the Cali Cartel, you can’t be telling your whole life story to anyone who asks.” He’s got his hands on his hips as if disappointed with you. You pout with your bottom lip out.

“Wasn’t telling just anyone. Was telling you.” You cross your arms and sniff, suddenly rather embarrassed to be crying in front of a man so genuinely hot it makes you go a little cross-eyed. Well, it was either him or the whiskey. TBD. “Not that I’m encouraging you or anything, but if you don’t kill me, aren’t your cartel bosses gonna be pissed?”

“I don’t work for the cartel. I work for the DEA.”

If crying was embarrassing, you are going to be fucking traumatized if you puked all over his cowboy boots.

“Aw shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.” You press your knuckles into your eyes, groaning. You wander backwards. Your head starts to spin and so do you. “The fucking government is after me? Holy shit, this is not good.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

You frown and spin back around. He looks exasperated.

“Well, how many words does it take to read me my Miranda rights?” You tick off the words on your fingers as you speak them aloud. “You. Have. The. Right. To. Remain. Silent. Anything – is that one word or two? – You. Say–,”

“Jesus Christ–,” He claps his wide hand over yours, squishing your tally between his palms. “Are you always like this or just because you’re drunk?”

“I’m a delight, pal, okay?” You scowl up at him. “I am a barrel full of monkeys at all times. I am a waterslide with chocolate and whipped cream, okay? I am a–,”

His hands leap to your shoulders. His touch is gentle like he knows he shouldn’t scare you but he’s considering throwing you into oncoming traffic.

“Just . . . show me the case of money you stole,” he begs with his baby cow eyes, “alright? Let’s start there.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “If I do, what’s to keep you from knocking me out and throwing me in the trunk?”

“I’m not going to do that.”

No tingle. You purse your lips and wiggle out from under his palms. “Say it. Say, I’m not going to knock you out and throw you in the trunk and steal all of your money.”

“It’s not exactly your money, is it?”

“Say it!”

“Fine!” He says, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m not going to knock you out and throw you in the trunk and steal all of your money.”

Still nothing. No tingle. Well, no tingle about him lying anyway.

“You passed the test. Now come here.”

Hesitantly, he nudges towards you, those thick eyebrows dipping down as if expecting you to pull a bazooka out of your bra.

“C’mere, c’mere. Good.” You clap a hand on his shoulder and lean into him. You shift your weight onto one leg and wiggle off your other boot. You get a whiff of his cologne – dark, woodsy, a little too much, as if to cover for a lack of deodorant. “Now, as you so annoyingly identified earlier, I have had a little, insy-tintsy bit to drink, and if I tried to take off my shoe by myself, I would, as the kids say, eat shit. And once you’ve fallen on your ass in front of one cop, you’ve fallen on your ass in front of them all.”

His warm hands find your waist, steadying you, just as you pop your heel out of your boot. “I’m not a cop,” he grumbles.

“And I’m not a walking lie detector.” You shake your boot and your car keys tinkle as they hit the dirt. “Ah, ha! Got ‘em.”

You shake them in front of his baby cow eyes, grinning, before spinning back to your car and popping the trunk, hopping as you went to slide your boot back on.

“Do you work out?” You ask as he rounds the edge. Half of you is buried in the trunk, feet in the air.

“Uh, yeah, when I can. Why?”

“What do you bench?”

“256. Why?”

“Oh, then this should be easy for you.”

You groan, struggling with something and he dives to help you – and his knees buckle.

“Why the hell do you have a tire for a sixteen wheeler in your trunk?”

“Same reason you’re sweating, toots. Heavy as fuck and hard to move. But now that we have . . .”

You pull out a slim silver case. You pop the handles and sigh.

You haven’t moved a single bill since that night. You haven’t even breathed on it, as if doing so would set off a series of alarms, bells, and whistles.

“So small for so much trouble,” you whisper as he crowds in next to you. “Fifty thousand dollars. Make or break a life. Well, at least, a life like mine.”

Javi makes a face. “Should be one hundred, but those fuckers switched it out.”

“Wait, how do you know that?”

He sighs and slams the lid of the trunk shut. You snatch up the case before he does and hold it tight to your chest. Javi stands there for a moment, with his hand on Baby’s trunk, head down, thinking.

“Look, I want to help you . . . and I can. But you’ve gotta start being honest with me. How did you really get into that poker game?”

“What do you mean?”

He crosses his arms, frowning. “That little party trick you do. The human lie detector thing. What is it? How did you know Veracruz had that shit hand?”

“Uh, because I asked him and he said he didn’t have a shit hand, and I knew he was lying.”

“Yeah, that. How did you know he was lying?”

“I just did.”

“Bullshit.”

“That’s my line!” You glare up at him, very much aware of his height and very much aware how hot he is. “I’m not lying to you. I just know when people are lying. If you believe it, I’ll know.”

Javi rolls his eyes. “That’s not a real thing people can do. Have you done forensic work before? Studied body language somewhere?”

You scoff and step back, showing off your black fringe vest, dirty jeans, and combat boots. “Do I look like I’ve studied anything anywhere ever? Where would I even have gotten the money to go study somewhere? Oh right, the forensic fairy, just beating the shit outta people with a bag of cash.”

He puts his hands on his hips and you match him because you can do the scary cop thing too. It’s not that hard.

“I broke my arm when I was seven on a bike ride.”

“True.”

“I had a dog named Benji.”

“Dog’s right, but not named Benji.” You grin, rubbing your hands together, then putting them on your thighs. “C’mon, gimme something you’ve never told anyone. This is exciting. Your mustache does this little twitch thing when I’m right.”

“When I was twelve, I cheated off my friend’s math test.”

You frown, dropping your shoulders. “That’s your big secret? Whoof, buddy, and here I thought the big scary man gunning for me was mean and lean, when he’s actually just an All-American—,”

“I need your help to arrest the men who are trying to kill you.”

Your mouth snaps shut so fast your teeth click.

“That’s what all of this is about.” He crosses his arms and leans against Baby. “Aren’t you curious how I found you so fast? Faster than the cartel who's been on your ass for two weeks now?”

“I’d like to think it was just kismet that we found each other,” you grumble. “Serendipity. Movie magic. Lady Luck doing me a fuckin’ solid for once.”

“That case has a tracker in it. We had a plant in that game who was supposed to win, but not before he could distribute the cash out in the pot. We’d be able to follow them back to their stashes and track their movements.” He bit his lip, disapprovingly. “And then you showed up. Cleaned their fucking clocks like it was nothing. Had their goddamn numbers from minute one and none of us could figure it out. Steve was probably relieved when you knocked him out with that bottle.”

“Oh, shit, the blonde was your partner?” You grimace. “My bad, dude, my bad. Is he, uh, okay?”

Javi nods, eyes distant, as if subtly trying to work something out in his brain. Like testing to see if you could read minds or something. “He’ll be fine. His wife Connie is thrilled to have him home for a few weeks.”

“Ah. And that means you pulled the shit straw to go after the girl who ran off with all your government money . . .” It was finally all coming together. “Shit, should I add your wife to the list of people I’ve pissed off? I can’t imagine she’s thrilled about any of this.”

His jaw works, as if he was chewing on something, eyes dark, before he pulls a packet of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jacket. He holds one out to you.

You stay where you are, hesitant.

“C’mon, don’t tell me you’re not a smoker.” He spins an unlit cigarette between his fingers. “I don’t bite.”

You scowl and trudge forward. You snatch the cigarette from his thick fingers and wait your turn for the lighter.

“What gave it away? I haven’t had a smoke in hours.”

The shadow of the flame flickered in his palm as he held out the lighter close to your lips, his hand blocking the wind. His brown eyes looked black in the absence of light.

“Chain-smoking and playing poker with idiots is a combo deal. Two vices for the price of one.”

“Ha. Ha.”

You match his lean against Baby’s trunk, the pair of you watching the occasional car or truck go by on the interstate in the distance. The paper crinkles when you suck in the smoke. God, there really is nothing like the first bite of a cigarette.

“So, what’s the play here?” You ask, after a moment. “You have the money. Why do you need me?”

“You won’t have to worry about kindly strangers with baby cow eyes for starters.” You scowl at him. Maybe it’s the orange light of the flame, but you swear you see a twinkle in his eyes. “But you tell me. You seem smart. What would the government want with you?”

He likes a chase, you realize. He likes to play, to tease. He likes to be in control. Something inside you knots up, threatening goosebumps on your skin, but you shake it back. Down, girl.

You take a sip from your cigarette, thinking.

There is nothing else around except the highway and this diner. Seemed like such a good idea at the time. Who’d ever find your ass all the way out here? You lick the bottom of your lip before pulling it between your teeth.

“I’m your only witness to the mountains of coke being produced out in the open when they brought us in. Everyone else at that table was cartel or DEA. You want me to testify.

He nods slowly. If he was impressed, he didn’t show it.

“We didn’t know who the hell you were when you showed up and planned to arrest you before everything went tits up.” He taps the ash onto the gray dirt and you watch his fingers. “If you do this, you’re out from under the cartel. We can give you a new identity, and you can start grifting again across America. All of this’ll be a bad dream.”

He flicks the butt of his cigarette into the dark, just at the edge of the light from the neon sign. You follow suit a second later. The keys to Baby are still in your pocket.

“And if I don’t? If I don’t do this, then what?”

His answer is a single arched eyebrow.

You dart to the left, trying to get around him, but he’s there first, arms outstretched like he’s guarding a goal. He frowns at you. Seriously?

You lunge again, this time to the right, and he’s again in front.

Your brow sweating, you hook your foot onto Baby’s trunk, desperately trying to scramble over the top. You get about halfway up before those annoyingly large hands snatch you around the waist and haul you off the car.

“Would you stop it?” He plops you down between his solid chest and the car door. This close to him, air temporarily leaves your lungs. “I’m being honest when I say I’m here to help you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Am I lying?” Again, that beautiful eyebrow of disapproval.

“No, but I’ve officially decided you’re shifty.”

He shakes his head and steps back, allowing blood flow to return to your brain.

“Is this what you want for your life? Driving from small town to small town, picking up bullshit jobs, sleeping in shit beds, when there’s so much more you could do? You’re smart, resourceful, funny, weirdly agile . . . but you wanna spend your life hiding from the world.”

There’s something hot and sharp in your throat.

“It’s what I’m good at,” you croak.

His expression softens. The gravel crackles beneath his boots as he comes closer. Javi, the DEA officer, has temporarily left the building. In his place, this Javi is smoothed out, dulled, not all jagged edges and razor burns. Maybe tastes sweeter than day-old coffee and stale cigarettes. You want to tell him there’s nothing wrong with either– you happily take both– but seeing him unguarded, even for a moment, threatens to topple you over. There’s a light in his eyes when he takes in your face. Your eyes. Your nose. Your mouth.

He looks . . . hopeful.

One hesitant finger brushes away a stray strand of hair from your forehead.

Do not tremble. Do not tremble. Do not do it, I swear, ladies, keep it together!

“I bet you are,” he says softly. Jesus Christ, his hands are so big up close. “I bet you are good at a lot of things. You seem like the type who could genuinely surprise me. And I think you might surprise yourself one day.”

You grimace, deeply, deeply regretful.

“Yeah,” you mutter glumly. “I do surprise people a lot, actually. Unfortunately, you didn’t seem to be listening.”

“Wha–,”

From your other pocket in your vest, you yank out a one-time-use stun gun and stab his thigh through his jeans. Fifty-thousand volts lights up his entire body, arched, and tensed, before the grown man collapses at your feet.

Unconscious, Javi hits the ground so hard you squeal, landing on his face and no doubt earning a nasty bruise.

“Exit strategy, dude! Always gotta have an exit strategy. But I’m so, so sorry!” Grabbing his deadweight shoulder, you roll him onto his back and try to get him in a comfortable position. There’s dust in his mustache. .You fold his hands onto his chest like he was casually napping.

Then because you were in fact the nicest or stupidest person on the planet, you dig your arms under his and pull him out of the parking lot. It would be a true sin if he got run over and anything happened to that beautiful face. Huffing, you drop him off by the bike rack. “I’m sorry. You are so gorgeous but I gotta get outta here and I can’t have you following me. This hurts me way more than it hurts you.”

You bend down and rifle through his jacket. You find what you’re looking for and take his phone out of his pocket. Old, probably a burner. With a shake, you crack off the battery and throw it on the ground. The crunch is loud beneath your heel. That should give you some more time. Can’t haul you back to HeadQuarters if he can’t call them.

This close to him, you can see the bags beneath his eyes. You remember he didn’t eat the entire time he sat with you in the diner. He didn’t respond to your question about a wife. Guilt clangs into your ribs. Slowly, you loosely brush your fingers through his hair. It’s soft, curls around his neck and ears. He looks like he needs sleep.

You had been blasting across state lines, hardly eating, barely sleeping, restless and fearful. Maybe he had been too.

“God, I am such a fucking idiot.” You grimace as you see a ripe purple bump growing on his cheek. “I am so sorry and I am so going to hell for this.”

Over the road to the highway, the dawn rises, purple and pink and heavy.

Baby purrs, when you start the engine, welcoming and warm. Where to today, Mama?

Jim Croce’s twang eases out of the radio as you adjust your mirror and see his long legs still out by the concrete. Somebody would find him soon enough.

Uptown got its hustlers

The bowery got it's bums

42nd street got big Jim Walker

He's a pool shootin' son of a gun

Yeah, he big and dumb as a man can come

But he stronger than a country hoss

You shake your head, guilt gnawing at your gut. Baby roars as you pull out onto the road and up onto the highway. Into the burning dawn.

What was it that he said?

And when the bad folks all get together at night

You know they all call big Jim boss, just because

He called you funny. Resourceful. Full of potential. And smart. He thought you were smart.

Liar, liar.

And they say

You don't tug on superman's cape

You don't spit into the wind

You don't pull the mask off that old lone ranger

And you don't mess around with Jim

#trying to get back into the flow of writing frequently if not just for one fic #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier pena one shot #javier pena x y/n #javier peña x y/n #javier peña x reader #javier peña x ofc #narcos #narcos netflix #also gonna tag this as #poker face #because more people need to see that damn show #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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hermannish · 3 months

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the saltburn review

saltburn hit pretty close to home. largely because i lived it. at times it was personal and surreal, shocking and true. but in the end it was just another misguided attempt at understanding the misunderstood.

and whom are the misunderstood? the middle class and the one percent? or the soul searching queer? according to emerald fennell, it’s the latter.

for the most part i felt that oliver was created and portrayed accurately, though i was ultimately disappointed by his character arc. while the idea of him m*dering Felix and his family is darkly humorous and seems like an appropriate conclusion, i think it actually misrepresented his character entirely. simultaneously, it absolutely destroyed any sense of romanticism the film spent close to three acts persuading the audience on. instead of the psycho-erotic masterpiece you think just might serve as the male counterpart for killing eve, you get just another fuck you to the LGBTQ community and the one-percent economy. which i might add is grotesquely overdone in media, and the audience knows it by the time they reach the film’s stale ending.

and it is stale. every scene plays like a fever dream of conversations one has already heard before. with the most cliché monologues coming from Farleigh and Venetia. every word seems so painstakingly familiar one can’t help but draw the similarities to F. Scott’s Jay Gatsby. Though where Fitzgerald cuts his dreamy romance and imagination short before any nightmare can begin, Fennell embraces the demons of the night, dragging her Gatsby through the mud and the blood until he’s so unrecognizable she has to provide an alternate origin story to make up for Oliver’s unnatural behavior.

and it is unnatural. so unnatrual that by the credit roll, you’re not quite sure who Oliver is, or what his motives are. on the pretense of reality, it seems pretty rigid for a guy who grew up in a decent neighborhood to go from erotically obsessed with his classmate to a murderous usurper. a conclusion so categorically absurd, it’s impossible to believe- largely because anyone on Oliver’s spectrum would never be able to sustain the public image it takes to uphold Saltburn let alone the ghost of Felix. His nude dance around the estate might as well be his seven seconds of heaven before the vultures descend at Farleigh’s call. And who would Farleigh find? Venetia claims her family believes Oliver to be a spider while she herself is partial to the idea that he’s a moth. [though ultimately she decides he’s a freaky nobody.] i personally concluded he was a werewolf. Normal when the prodigal *son is out, but absolutely possessed at night. Oliver himself professes that he is in fact a vampire. but much to every viewers dismay, we’re not entirely sure why.

3/5 stars: guess it’s just an oliver Quick Horror movie for the rich and famous.

bonus:

which saltburn plague are you?

let me know in the comments

the vampire: dead. cold hearted. bloodsucking. manipulative. stealing the life out of everyone and everything after they invite you in. guaranteed to love you forever or your money back.

the spider: the silent observer, hiding in corners, working in the shadows, whispering half-truths to make your bed of lies. and once you’ve captured your lovely guest, up up and away they go. down your throat for dinner.

the moth: addicted to the light, and the money, and the scene, and the shiny diamond irresistible things. you do nothing but eat holes into everything and everyone until the light is yours alone.

the freaky nobody: you have an erotic obsession with the guy you met in chem class, or the 60 year old lead actress on an emmy award winning tv show. you spend your days, weeks, months admiring from afar and planning how you’ll end up being together. you like to spy on them while they masturbate and after they’re dead you wear their aromas and old underwear.

the werewolf: an absolute darling pet during the day. someone's best friend and best mate. you wait by their side and do everything they ask in complete and utter obedience and loyalty. but as soon as the full moon comes out you can't be trusted. the demon inside comes out, no one is safe, and everything is considered dinner.

would you / did you / never ever

let me know in the comments

1. lend your bike to your secret crush

I WOULD ABSOLUTELY. wouldn’t go so far as pre-sabotaging the bicycle, but if she needed a ride, i’d give her mine.

2. watch your crush sleep with another person

never ever. i don’t think i could. it’s one of those things that i think i never would want to see. I think i would black out. I think I would get jealous in a way that i’ve never been jealous before. and i think it would haunt me in a way that nothing’s ever haunted me before. i can’t see it being healthy.

3. make out with your crushes love interest

there’s a duplicity to this. maybe even a triplicity given the nature of the game. would I? yes. if the circumstances were right. have i? I have - sort of. not really. there was a guy that i knew who had worked with her previously. and they weren’t romantically linked at all. but i remember thinking when we made out, this guy has been near her. they've touched. because of my circumstances, it felt mystical and urgent, but i never allowed it to happen again. mainly because deep down i knew i was using him. and all i would ever do was use him for precisely that reason. and that wasn’t fair. so i never talked to him again. never ever? she’s married. her husband is this guy. i don’t think i could kiss him. i don’t think i would. but if i did i would imagine it being for the sole reason of missing her because she was no longer with us.

4. tell your crush you suffered a traumatic event to get them to befriend you even more

no. not to the extent that Ollie lied. that was pretty big even for me. i’d tell a white lie. I have told a white lie to get my crush to befriend me even more, but to lie about trauma is diabolical. [the lie i told, was about not having a twitter account in my crushes honorum. in truth, i really did. and i didn’t want her to know about it because it was my place to be transparent. and curious, and sexually fluid. it was my place to be absolutely mental. but i never lied about traumas. [that’s gnarly.]

5. spend the night over your super rich friend’s house

never ever. for precisely the reasons detailed in this film, however parody the script may have been, there’s a lot of truth to the scenario. to the reactions. I always did my best to avoid putting myself into those situations. when you’re in social settings like that i think it’s important to realize and establish your role early on. if they’re fire, you’ve got to position yourself as water, or earth, or wind and be realistic about that. if you’re not, you’re just setting yourself up for failure. you just seem delusional. you've got to be strong. be your own character. set your boundaries and don’t apologize for them. if you don't you''ll only ever be a play thing. you want to make an impression? you want to be memorable? my advice is to keep networking. don't limit yourself to one person just because they're so and so and they have connections. keep networking. make your own connections. and make connections that are outside of their circle. that way if things do go south, the most you lose is an understanding, but never your newly earned position. when you limit yourself you become dependent on others for your happiness and growth. you don't just come off as a moth, but a leech. [that's your que pamela!] it's just not attractive.

6. slurp your crushes masturbation bathwater

abso-fucking-lutely - on second thought it might be a bit too soapy for my tasting. but i’d definitely do a finger dip.

7. perform oral sex during someone’s menstrual cycle

like a full session? probably not. some people try and justify it and make it acceptable but the fact is it’s unsanitary, unhealthy, and unclean. there’s even risk of giving your partner a bacterial infection. so no. not exactly. but i know it’s possible for some women to become aroused. i’d be open to fingering long term, but nothing oral. i have nothing to prove in doing that.

8. play psychological mind games with your competition

i did. don’t recommend it at all. it’s enough to make a person go insane. and there are so many other wonderful things you could be doing. like being kind and being genuine. that’s not to say that being that way will inherently make you exempt from offensive behaviors- and by offensive behaviors i am referring to the unmentionable hazing experience wealthy young adults play on middle class young adults. that's the ugly side of ambition. the part that you’re unprepared for because no one really expects it. you're so focused on socially advancing that once you've gotten your foot in the door the only thing you can process is the success of it. the next steps of it. it's a lot. one minute you think you've just secured generational wealth for your family and the next you're standing in an arena with a sword while all the advanced gather for entertainment. it can just be impossible and manipulative, and jealous for no reason. they’ll hurt you just because they can, just because they’re not having a good day. and it can cost you everything. so don't go in it with the expectation you're going to win. the game is rigged. go in with the intention to survive. you never know, you might get lucky.

9. kill your crush after they found out about your deception and decided they no longer wanted to be in a relationship with you

nooooo!!!! never ever! if anything, i’d kill myself before i had the nerve to kill my crush. to ruin those eyes? and that hair? and those legs? and that ass? and those lips?! PLEASE. the last thing i’d want to do is kill someone i’m in love with! it's just unfathomable. i can't even imagine it. life just wouldn't have meaning without my crush. even if she is married. i don't care. i still want her alive and breathing. if anything i want her to live forever.

10. masturbate on your crushes grave.

this one made me laugh. in hindsight no. maybe you know, i’d think about us being together when i go to lay some flowers, but full on, naked and thrashing against the dirt? i can’t say that’s for me. I can’t speak for what happens in the car though- especially if the grave just happens to be by the beach...

#saltburn #gatsby #killing eve #love:andie #parasite #barry keoghan #jacob elordi #jacob elrodis bath water #rosamund pike #felix catton #oliver quick #psych:andie

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sgiandubh · 7 months

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The ripple effect

So finally, it would seem the news from Hollywood are not good at all. A press release from SAG-AFTRA informs us that AMPTP/TPTB chose to drop the towel after a very long negotiation process (not a good sign, in my book), that continued even after their latest unacceptable offer, as you can read down below (https://x.com/sagaftra/status/1712368110253285730?s=20):

The mainstream media (always NYT, in this house) reported also on the studios' offer, which may or may not be helpful for understanding what exactly is at stake (https://www.nytimes.com/2023/10/12/business/media/actors-strike-talks-suspended.html?searchResultPosition=2):

Now that is a very hardball, completely insolent position. I am peeling my eyes in disbelief at the idea of offering 'further protections around the use of A.I.', when it was hoped that the use of A.I. would be treated as an exception, not as future reality the industry should work 'around'. This is what really is at stake, not the almost abusive allegation of 'unbearable economic burden' (that is a mafioso pretext) an 800 million USD yearly viewership bonus would supposedly entail. The real financial impact of such a compromise solution, as disclosed by SAG-AFTRA, is negligible: 'less than 57 cents/subscriber'.

And, to make things worse, it would seem the studios deliberately lied to the press, too (it would not be the first time - we shippers know it so well, eh?):

All this circus, despite a cataclysmic impact on California's economy:

(Sourced at: https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/21/realestate/writers-strike-rent-ny-la.html).

And that was the situation three weeks ago, when I found this article and promptly set it aside, waiting for the right moment to share it with you. And you know the situation is serious, when news like these are to be found not in the business, but in the real estate section of the newspaper. Along with this kind of comments, likely to suggest the possibility of unrest, if things go on like this:

People living in their flats without electricity or sleeping in their cars: it would seem this strike added unwanted insult to the drastic COVID injury in this particular sector of the labor market.

But what interested me the most about this whole affair was the ripple effect on the British film industry, in an attempt to see what is next for OL's Season 8. Thankfully, I didn't have to go very far and speculate more than the NYT did itself. Oh, and before Mordor starts shouting insanities, their LHR's correspondent paper, back in September, is called 'Hollywood Strikes Send a Chill Through Britain’s Film Industry' (https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/19/business/hollywood-strikes-uk-filmmaking-industry.html):

Despite my unflappable optimism, I have to say that doesn't sound good at all, especially when you know this is precisely the case for OL, a production 'with stars who are SAG-AFTRA members' (or at least compelled to stand in solidarity with the strike, by SAG-AFTRA's own statement of conduct). I predict a very late start for the shooting of Season 8. And further unrest in the UK sector 'in the middle of next year' means that UK based and staffed productions may be fewer and less important, since that calendar announced by Equity could seriously compromise their promotion, a risk not many studios are willing to take. So less alternatives for both S&C, at least for the UK alone.

The writers' strike was a very long one - five months. I suppose the studios are willing to play for time and prefer a long stalemate of the negotiations with SAG-AFTRA, in the attempt of breaking the union consensus from the inside. With people's economies gone and the prospect of a dire, uncertain way ahead, there is no way SAG-AFTRA's compensations, mainly aimed at keeping people afloat with their rent costs, could cover the real impact on its members' everyday lives, on the long run. They would also prefer to foolishly cry over a fictitious 800 million USD 'burden' and not see the (at least) six times bigger negative impact on the local economy, which translates both in net losses of profit for thousands of businesses (mainly SMEs) and thousands of lost jobs.

And in the middle of all this, it would seem that Herself is on her way to the NYCC. Whatever for, sweet summer child, I would brazenly ask this strange, diminutive woman who started it all.

#sag aftra strike

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thedailyjcs · 1 month

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Thrifted Treasures: LJ's Journey in Sustainable Fashion Entrepreneurship

by Jerraine Sy and Jose Carlos Morata

Leila Jazel Madelar, who goes by the name LJ, is a student at National University Fairview pursuing BS Tourism. LJ is the proud owner of Madie's Wardrobe, where she sells curated thrifted clothes through her Facebook page and ships them out via Shopee Checkout. LJ's commitment to sustainability and supporting local businesses is an appropriate match for our theme, which emphasizes the advantages that thrifted clothing has for the economy and the environment.

In the vibrant world of ukay-ukay, LJ encountered unpredictable situations as an entrepreneur. This is not new to the business world, especially in the ukay-ukay culture. Although she handpicked these items rather than buying in bulk, sometimes they do not appeal to people's tastes or align with current trends. The importance of adaptability in overcoming obstacles is truly essential, as mismanaging this aspect could result in profit loss.

She discusses the diverse attitudes of customers and the challenges in ensuring they follow instructions. Despite that, she employs patience and takes the time to educate customers on the checkout process, maintaining a high level of customer satisfaction. True success lies in maximizing profitability. When she receives the profit, it marks the culmination of her efforts as a dedicated businesswoman.

LJ sets herself apart by focusing on offering affordable sets, steering away from the trend of overpricing items observed in similar shops. This strategy has contributed to the success of Madie's Wardrobe. She handpicks each item from various thrift stores, personally fitting them and curating a collection through meticulous examination. This attention to detail ensures a curated and quality inventory. She observes the thrift clothes market trends and notes the enduring popularity of items like crop tops and pants. She also stays attuned to customer preferences, adapting her inventory to meet the ongoing demands of the market.

The virtue of patience is the most significant lesson that she teaches. Managing several projects at once is part of being a lone owner, and even with diligent attention to detail, problems can still occur. Maintaining a high standard of customer satisfaction requires flexibility and responsiveness to any issues that might arise. LJ advises aspiring thrift clothes sellers to embrace hard work and be prepared to take risks. She emphasizes the importance of having a backup plan to avoid losses and ensure success. Aspiring thrift store vendors should accept hard labor and be willing to take calculated chances, according to Leila. She strongly expresses that to prevent losses and guarantee success, a backup plan is essential. The importance of preparedness for potential challenges cannot be overstated; it forms the backbone of a resilient business strategy. It's important to have a backup plan within a backup plan, as this provides greater control in uncertain situations.

To sum up, LJ's experience selling used clothing is proof of her tenacity, enthusiasm, and steadfast dedication to her clients' needs. Madie's Wardrobe is a source of inspiration for aspiring businesses that want to enter the realm of online thrifted clothes sales in addition to providing reasonably priced apparel.

#blog #thrifstorefinds #thrifting #photography #graphic design

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yantalia545 · 1 year

Note

Yandere allies with a reader that they're in a political marriage with. The catch? The darling doesn't love them and/ or care about them. They kind of just told them to do what they want with somebody else, saying that their marriage is a glorified business deal and that it probably won't last too long.

Britain:

He understands that you're much younger than him and just needs time to adjust to your new life with him.

However

There's no way in hell is he going to allow you to be with anyone else but him. Especially when the two of you are married. Britain is extremely offended that you would even suggest seeing another person. You have him after all. Why would you ever need anyone else? You may only see your marriage to him as strictly political, but it'd be the real thing to him. The fact that you'd even offer yourself to him like that must mean that you harbor some feelings for him. So why are you even holding back from him in the first place?

If he catches you so much as talking to another man, a nobody human for that matter, they're as good as dead. There's no way he's going to let some human get in the way of his marriage to you.

You'll also get a nice earful for that stupid stunt. Britain will go on and on about how humans are below personifications and how you shouldn't waste your time mingling with them. He's lived a longer life than you, so he knows what he's talking about.

If it's because you're actually in love with another country then you can kiss your freedom and reputation goodbye. Britain is a bit of a petty man, so he'll do whatever it takes to put your good name into the ground.

Pulling sneaky deals with other countries to leave you out of trading deals and treaties, Spreading lies about you, and even staging a few instances to make you seem like the bad guy to other countries are just a few of the things Britain will do. Whatever it takes to make sure he ruins any chance of the other country actually reciprocating your feelings. He may even throw that fact in your face a few times just to add more salt to your wounds. How no one would ever want you. How lucky you are that he even loves you through every horrible thing you've done.

Britain won't feel any remorse for his actions either. In his mind, he feels like this is what you deserve for treating your marriage to him with such little respect.

America:

The greatest, most powerful nation in the world had graciously taken you under its wing and is sworn to protect and provide for you. There's no way in hell he’s putting in all this elbow grease for you just to be someone’s side hoe.

Why would the greatest and most powerful country in the world ever even bother to seek the need of a strong alliance with a much weaker country? Heck, you weren’t even a member of the G8.

Well...maybe it had something to do with the fact that he confessed his feelings for you a few weeks ago and you totally turned him down flat like dog shit in the park...in front of everyone at the last world meeting.

Being as influential as he is, it’s not like it didn’t take much to convince your boss to sign you over in a political marriage. It was almost a little sad how quickly they sold you over to him too. Even after you begged them not to.

You saying to America that this is nothing more than a “glorified business deal” and that it “won’t last long” are nothing more than words. You’re just mad right now and can’t see that things are much better with him. So he’ll show you all that he can bring; A seat at the G8′s union, strong trade deals with powerful countries that bring so much wealth into your economy? Anything and everything you could ever think of and want. Can’t you see that he can literally give you the world?

If you still continue to brush off his affections, then he can always threaten with the opposite; occupation of your country, crying out tyranny and going to war are just a couple things he can do.

The choice is really up to you. Play the part and live in luxury? Or remain stubborn and be a prisoner in the house that you now share with America while your country practically burns to the ground?

France:

As a man of love he understands where you’re coming from, sort of...

You are just nervous and are in need of some encouragement. You don’t mean to say those nasty things about doubting the love the two of you share.

What is your darling needs to do?

Is his home not to you liking? Would you like to redecorate or maybe even leave the busy city and go somewhere in the countryside? Just say the word and France would be more than happy to give it to you.

France will see your defiance as a sign that you don’t think he loves you enough and are just trying to protect yourself. Because of that, France is going to turn up his affections for you to the max. Luxurious meals he cooks just for you, extravagant dates through his beautiful cities, exquisite clothes mended just your unique measurements. France will happily provide them all in hopes of gaining your affections.

France is a man of dedication, but also delusions. He will do everything in his power to make you happy. After all, that is what he believes lovers are supposed to do. France just never will accept that want to see other people simply because you don’t love him and the reason you even signed a marriage registration form is strictly political. France may even go as far as allow you to add another person into the two of yours relationship as a means for you to experiment.

As the country of love, he’s has his fair share of sexual experiences. There has been a time or two where he’s had more than one lover, so maybe you’re just trying to do the same? For the sake of his mental health, that must be it.

Russia:

See someone else? Don’t be silly. With Russia around as your new husband, there will be literally be no one else you see but him. Nope! Not you’re pesty friends, your boss, or even his sisters or the Baltic states. Russia is all you need now and he’s never leaving your side.

For Russia, your boss proposing to his boss about an alliance was like music to his ears. Why Russia had to take it another step and impose marriage was beyond either of them. Not that any of them would have the balls to ask. Pretty much the whole world didn’t understand why the hell Russia would just up and do that. He only ever spoken to you a handful of times.

Unlike America, Russia wouldn’t wait to see your reaction. One day, Russia would come in to the meeting, throw you over his shoulder saying how now you are his wife, and take you back home to Russia. No one had heard from you that day since. Not that anyone would try if they could. Russia is a terrifying man. No one was to mess with him.

As for life with Russia, you’re going to be pretty suffocated. From morning to dusk, Russia is going to drag you along for every little thing that he does. After all, isn’t husband and wife supposed to support each other through everyday, mundane, tasks?

You may even try to argue about how you don’t love him and that you don’t even know each other, but honey, that’s not a good choice. If you doubt his knowledge of you, then Russia will be more than happy to show you the thousands of random photos he’s taken of you throughout his years of stalking you. Or perhaps you’d be more interested in his bookshelf of handwritten journals about your everyday life? Maybe even his collection of little trinkets he’s collected from your house throughout the years!

Don’t you ever doubt his reasons or the lengths of his love for you. He knows everything there is to know about you. Russia knows that you’re perfect for him! So just give in and love him already. <3

China:

China is the oldest nation and probably oldest living thing on earth. He knows that you don’t harbor any feelings of love towards him. That doesn’t mean you’re going to disrespect him though. So many others do that on a daily basis and as his wife, you, most certainly, will not be so disgraceful.

Rather you like it or not, you’re China’s wife now ,and therefore, must do your part as so.

China is going to be on you like kids and boogers to condition you into his perfect wife. Sneaking off with other men certainly won’t do. You will learn to cook what he likes, clean his house to his liking by the time he returns home from tiring meetings all day, and even present yourself like how a proper married woman should.

Should you perhaps step out of line and disregard anything China has taught you and there will be punishments. Isolation and lack of food being his most common punishments.

Don’t get me wrong through, this rough demeanor is only until you start behaving and get those disrespectful words out of your mouth. Once you start showing your compliance to him, China would be more than happy to treat you like the goddess you are. Waking up every morning to authentic Chinese cuisine, adorable clothes that he designed and made himself. A whole forest of Pandas to keep you company while he’s away even. These are just a few of the many ways he’ll spoil you.

You must never forget though, you must treat him with the same amount of love and care if you want these special treatments.

#hetalia #hetalia england #hetalia america #hetalia france #hetalia russia #hetalia china #yandere hetalia #yandere england #yandere america #yandere france #yandere russia #yandere china

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komitomi · 1 year

Text

Fateful Encounter. // Chapter v.

Neteyam x F!reader

prologue || chapter i || chapter ii || chapter iii || chapter iv

nsfw! mdni! ; p in v, mutual masturbating (unfinished),unprotected sex, breeding kink, talks about war, little bit of angst? and also fluff, neteyam recovers, ALL CHARACTERS HAVE BEEN AGED UP TO ADULTS IN THIS SERIES. + not proofread

english is not spoken

wc: 3.8k

A/N: I had to rush this cause it was already in the drafts for a while now, chapter 6 or 7 might be the final chapters of the series I think, depends on how long chapter 6 will be, but anyways please enjoy! also I lost the taglist that I saved so please comment if you wanna be added again <3 // gif credit: ??? I got this off of google idk who made it.

It has been a week, since the war broke out, the information of this had reached earth which finally put the nail in the coffin for RDA, the law firm decided that RDA was found guilty for misconduct, manipulation of truth, false information, and innocent deaths, which led to the termination of their project.

The court didn't just do this because they empathize with the na'vi, but also cause of the false information, lies and deceit the RDA had told humans, leading to billions of money loss, which was a big deal in the declining of the economy back on earth, which also caused a lot of uproar once the truth was revealed.

RDA troops back on Pandora were stuck in an awkward place, they would need orders from the RDA to continue the project but they also had all supplies they needed to not listen to the order and simply have their own way.

Few of them decided to side with SERO, seeing that there is no hope, however most of the others decided that this is their reality now and continued the project because it benefitted them, and since no high command to control them, they could go as far as they want.

Other than another war that was brewing there was nothing significantly different, neteyam woke up from his coma two days ago, you had to explain everything to him, it seemed like he didn't remember anything that happened after your mating with him, he doesn't remember the war, the fight with his brother, him getting shot.

Norm, one of the former RDA people, who rushed over here as soon as he heard about everything had told you that it might be due to the way the entire consciousness thing works in Pandora, Neteyam visited the spirit tree once after mating with you and then after that, the war broke out.

Basically jake had to explain it to you in a simplistic way, telling you that it's like the internet back on earth, you basically upload your memories or download them, when the na'vi pass the memories remain in the eywa, living in her.

Which is why you are able to relive your memories shared together in the spirit tree, basically 'virtual reality on spiritual crack' is what norm ended jake's explanation with which made you chuckle but earned him a light hit from jake on the stomach as it was quite disrespectful.

When neteyam passed away but was revived, he was momentarily with eywa, you wondered if this broke the law of nature which the na'vi people are very particular about but neytiri and ronal's words reassured you that if it wasn't eywa's will then neteyam wouldn't have revived no matter how hard you tried, she basically gave him back to you.

He had all his memories intact besides the ones that happened during war, he didn't really question much when you explained what happened to him, just taking in the information, besides he doesn't really care about it that much either since they were probably bad memories, but he was more thankful that you were still alive.

You were currently tending to neteyam, who still seemed to be recovering, opening up the bandage around his chest to apply medicine and apply bandage over again, the thread was slowly beginning to dissipate into his skin, indicating that he's healing.

“How are you feeling neteyam?” you ask him, caressing his cheek and he takes your hand off and kisses your fingers, “Decent, it still hurts.” he says and you hand him over pain killing medicine, he takes them reluctantly.

“Oh eywa, you sky people have weird medicine.” he says before popping the pill into his mouth and drinking water to aid the pill down his throat. you chuckle at his remark, agreeing with him.

Neteyam puts the pot of water down before he pulls you on to his lap, hugging you, you try your best to not put all your body weight on him as he was still in recovery, what shocks is when he grinds his hips against you, making you slap his thigh.

“Neteyam.” you say sternly but he just looks at you sheepishly before he stops moving and buries his nose into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent, “I missed you.” he says before kissing the spot.

“I literally didn't even leave your side for the past few days.” you say which made him giggle, “yeah, but I still miss you, I want to be inside you.” he mumbles the last part, making your cheeks heat up, “Recover fast then.” you say and pull him away to make eye contact with you.

“Oh, I will.” he says before rubbing your noses together.

“Oh eywa, what the heck did I just walk in on.” you hear a familiar voice and you both snap your head towards that direction, it was none other than kiri, you quickly get off his lap and sit down as kiri walks in, holding food, “I bought food for you guys, but it seems your hunger is for something else.” she says the second part looking directly at her brother, making him avoid her gaze.

“Y/n, come with me for a bit.” she tells you before getting up, and you immediately join her outside as you both make your way towards the sully family pod, you spot a human there and immediately feel bad.

His name was spider, he was apparently quaritch's son, and you didn't know that and ended up killing him. Although his death was appreciated by the suli family, you felt an immense amount of guilt in your heart the moment you found out about everything, you never truly got a chance to apologize to him, maybe you'll do it today.

“Ah, come in.” Jake says immediately as he spots you, you enter inside and see why you were called here, you spotted a few of the SERO troops and former RDA troops there too, they were discussing something.

A lot had happened after the war ended, most people from your organization had left to deal with the actual nest while few of them stayed behind, establishing a science camp at the back of the island, in the forest, which tonowari didn't allow at first because they were still kind of hostile towards the sky people but later came to an agreement when jake negotiated things between them.

They built a average-sized camp with minimal damage to the environment around it as possible, just enough to have their supplies and link units stored, you were planning to bring your human body here after everything was dealt with.

“What's the matter?” you look at him with a questioning expression, kiara, who is now your friend, sighs “we probably need to prepare for another war.” she says to you and you look at her shocked, “I thought RDA was dealt with?” you ask and she nods her head, “Yes, back on earth it has, but the ones here refuse to back down and they've become even more aggressive, some of them decided to join SERO but the rest are still being idiots.” she tells you.

“So what now?” you ask, and kiara starts explaining the plan to you.

They will attack the base in 3 months, which will require you to leave your avatar body here and fight in your human one since it was still at the original camp, or travel back to the forest with your avatar body and then fight, the later seems like a much more safer option, so you decided you were going to do that, jake and neytiri will also accompany you, since they're also very much needed there to fight.

Na'vi don't usually go far away from their clans to prevent clashes against one another, however for this reason its excusable, jake sully suggested taking the help of the omaticaya people who were their former clan, and had excellent warriors.

You make your way towards your pod thinking about the plan when you see neteyam sitting outside, it looks like he was waiting for you and you quickly rush over to him, “What is it?” he asks and you avert his gaze, you didnt know how you were going to break it to him. He will probably refuse but you need to manage to convince him somehow.

This is exactly what you had feared, as soon as you told your plan neteyam got up and rushed over to his parents pod in an angry stance and argued with his dad about how its literally unsafe for you, his dad shouted at him telling him theres no other way than this.

“Father, I usually respect your decision but, no way I'm going to allow this! This will put everyone in danger!” he argued.

“There is no other way son, in order for eternal peace, we must fight this battle, a final war.” jake says shaking his head, “Why isn't there any other way? Why can't the organisation just deal with it on their own?” he contrasts.

“Because SERO is still relatively small, compared to RDA. They lack manpower, in certain areas, attacking the base isn't as easy as attacking barely few troops of RDA's army which was sent here.” he sighs.

After what seemed like a never ending argument between son and father lo'ak stepped in and managed to convince his brother.

Lo'ak had matured lately, after the near death of his brother his mindset changed drastically, its almost like he became a new person, he stopped being so impulsive, standing in between both jake and neteyam.

Neteyam seemed to give up, his eyes shot towards you making your breath hitch as you gave him a look of concern, he averted his eyes from you and put his head down in defeat, before sighing and going back to your shared marui, you followed him there, shooting once apologetic look at jake before leaving.

“This is ridiculous.” he muttered, he was currently laying down on your lap, head on your thighs while you slowly caress his face, “It's the only option.” you tell him, gentle fingers tracing the strips on his face, he looks at before sitting up straight and pulling you into a hug, taking in your scent.

“What if I lose you?” he finally speaks his mind, stroking your hair and you just giggle against him, “You won't, I'm quite the fighter, you should've seen me in battle.” you say pulling away from the hug and jokingly flexing your body.

Neteyam's gaze softens at your lightheartedness, “I'm scared, losing a mate is terrifying, apparently you go insane for a bit.” he says and you nod, “Yeah I should know very well.” you say and he lightly hits your shoulder, “I am not dead.” he says, “Well, you were kind of dead, for like a few seconds, before my troops revived you, never felt anything like that in my life” you look at his and caress his face.

“The gaze you had on your face as the life was leaving your body made my heart drop to my stomach, I just stayed there, not being able to move as my mind slowly registered what had happened, i— i was frozen in fear.” your voice cracks and your breathing gets faster, recalling the events, tears form in your eyes until once again you were pulled into a hug by neteyam.

“I am here now, I have no recollection of what had happened but, I'm sorry.” he says, kissing you on your shoulder, you caress his head gently, “Don't apologize, it wasn't your fault, not like you made the conscious decision to die, it's just— it was traumatic, but I'm glad the great mother had blessed me.” you say and kiss his head.

You both stay like that for a while.

2 months later.

Neteyam had fully healed up, and preparations for the war were going well, and the only thing left to do was finally fight, everything was basically going accordingly and perfectly.

That's what you thought until you went to the tsahìk this morning, what started off as a light sickness turned into constant tiredness, you were constantly feeling nauseous, you decided to ignore it thinking it might be anxiety since the time to strike was coming.

When you arrived, the tsahìk immediately smelled the change in your scent, you sat next to her as she examined your physical state before drawing the needle from her necklace and poking you and licking the blood.

“As I suspected, you are with child.”

As soon as those words left her mouth, you froze up, not having any idea on what you're going to do now, she noticed your state and put a hand on your shoulder, “Don't be stressed, it's bad for the child, it will be okay.” her words snapped you out of whatever trance you were in.

“Thank you tsahìk.” you say, getting up to leave and she nods, you bid her goodbye and make your way towards your home, hands shaking, not knowing how to break this news to neteyam.

Although he accepted the plan, he was still reluctant about it, and you breaking this news to him will completely bring everything back to square one, he will refuse to let you go, and to be fair, you also are having second thoughts about this war, as soon as you found you were pregnant it's almost like the motherly instincts kicked instantly, it's not like you didn't want to have this child, it was just the wrong time.

You almost dropped down onto the floor when you reached your home as your legs were trembling, you noticed neteyam was fanning the fish which was cooking to get rid of the smoke while also simultaneously keeping the fire alive, the air was filled with the smell of the fish cooking, normally this would've been appetizing but you just felt nauseous.

He noticed your presence and gently pulled you down to sit alongside him as he continued what he was doing, you rested your head on his shoulder, watching in silence as many thoughts went through your head.

“What is it love?” he asks before he completely blows out the fire and turns to look at you, and you just shake your head, hiding your face in his shoulder, he turns his body to you and pulls you into a hug, rubbing your back gently and rests his face in your neck.

He suddenly pulls back, startling you before his face turns into the look of a scowl, “Who touched you? You smell different.” he grits his teeth, the smell was faint but it was there, mated couples mark each other with their scents as they release their pheromones, also known as "scenting/marking" simply.

You having a different smell on you, which wasn't neteyams pheromones, implies that someone had marked you as their own, which made neteyam angry, his aura became darker as he makes that revelation.

“No one, my love.” you say sighing, which makes neteyam raise a brow, “Why do you smell different then?” he asks and you let out another sigh, gosh you've been sighing a lot lately, you take a deep breathe before looking directly into his eyes.

His brows were now furrowed in a confused expression as he looked at you.

“I'm pregnant.” you say which makes neteyam's eyes widen as his brows raise in surprise, his mouth slightly open, he doesn't know what he expected but it definitely wasn't this, the shocked expression only last few seconds before his agape mouth turns into a happy smile which reaches his eyes and he quickly pulls you in for a hug.

“You're carrying my seed.” he says which makes your eyes widen at the wording before you chuckle and nod in his shoulder, “That's a good thing! We have been blessed, eywa has blessed us.” he says enthusiastically.

Neteyam was excited about it, hell, he pulled away from the hug and rubbed your belly with his fingers, and immediately started to talk about how they should expand this marui pod and have a crib woven to place the babe in, all he could think about how there is a life growing inside of you now, the thought of your belly swelling up and bearing his kid was lowkey making him horny but he was overwhelmed with happiness.

He noticed the lack of your enthusiasm regarding this, and how you swallowed a lump in your throat and fiddled with your fingers, that was when the realisation hit him, and you noticed his face drop.

“Neteyam— what a-about the war.” you finally managed to spill the words you were holding back, you prepared yourself for the worst, thinking about ways to convince him, “on one condition.” he says and you look up at him, surprised. “Let me come with you.” he finishes.

“I cant– what if something happens to you? Again?” you say panicking, “what if something happens to you? the baby?” he throws the same question at you making you go silent.

“I'll talk about this with my dad, do not worry.” he sighs and pulls you onto his lap, you straddle him, legs wrapped around his waist as he showers kisses on your shoulder, his hands lingered near your belly, fingers gently grazing it, there was no bump yet since you were still probably in the early stages.

His hands trail up your body, as he showers kisses down your kiss to your chest, fiddling with your top as he tries to undo it, your arms are wrapped around his neck, your top finally comes undone and falls to the ground with a noise as the seashells hit the floor.

He kisses your breasts, biting them gently but enough to leave his bite marks on there, he changes the position by making you lay down on the group as he gets on top of you, hands going down to your loincloth, he removes it quickly before he leans back and spreads your legs, taking in the sight.

Your pussy was glistening with your juices, wet from his inappropriate touches, you quickly try to close your legs but neteyam keeps them open before he undoes his loincloth and his cock springs out in its full glory.

He slowly pumps himself, his hands going up and down as precum leaks out, the sight of his cock making you even more turned on, your hands quickly move to your cunt, rubbing your clit in circles, neteyam groans at the sight, stroking his dick faster.

“Finger yourself.” he says, although you were a bit embarrassed, you still do what he says, shoving one finger into your hole, your hips immediately jerk against your hands at the contact, you slowly start pumping your finger in and out, moving your hips along with it in rhythmic way.

Neteyam stares at you intently while stroking his cock, the sight in front of him was so beautiful, the way you were biting your lip to suppress moans as you rutted your hips against your own finger, you decide to add one more stretching yourself more making yourself gasp, he almost came at the sight but he controlled himself, not wanting to cum anywhere besides your cunt, he tried matching his strokes with your rhythm.

You were almost near your orgasm when you felt neteyam move and pull your fingers out of your hole, he bought them up to his face and licked them, you looked at him with lust filling your eyes and he licked your finger clean, letting out a satisfied noises as he tasted your juices.

He lined himself against your entrance and tried to insert it into your hole but it slipped past and hit your clit instead making you gasp, he lined himself again properly and slowly entered inside you.

He threw his head back in pleasure and you wrapped your legs around him and pushed him slightly further into you, “F-fuck I wanted this for a while now.” he moaned, it has been a long time since you guys even were intimate like this, last time was when you guys first mated after that war was the only thing on your mind.

“ teyam— the b-bond please.” you moan out, bringing up the queue from behind you and he does the same, you both connect your queues to one another which makes you get hit by an immense amount of pleasure you've never felt before.

You let out a moan due to this feeling and neteyam closes his eyes, groaning as he tries to keep his calm, he's trying his best to not rut into you like a madman, knowing that it can possibly hurt the baby in your womb.

He doesn't know what is making him this feral, or feel these new surge of emotions whenever he thinks about the babe growing in your stomach, the thought of his seed he spilled inside you when you first mated was taken so quickly makes him so proud of himself, and he can't wait until you finally start showing, your tits swelling up with milk, and he can't wait to become a father.

You didn't know if this was a biological and a natural response of the na'vi, you could hear his thoughts and how he's going absolutely insane knowing that you were carrying his child, call it possessiveness maybe, but you can feel how happy and excited he is and to be honest, it was turning you on as well, and he feels it too.

He wastes no time thrusting into you, you lewdly moan when his dick hits your gspot this early, maybe it was all the affect of your guys' precious activity but neteyam only moved a few more times before you came all over his cock and he came inside you.

You thought he would pull out but he didn't, his cock was still rock hard inside you, he started moving again, your legs were thrown over his shoulder as he lifted your hips off the ground, his thrusts had rhythm to it as he pounded into your cunt making your breasts bounce, he grabbed him and fondled with them as he kept his pace stable.

You could feel your orgasm nearing again, arching your back as you try to match his rhythm and move your hips, he was also near his second orgasm, his pace became quick but more sloppy as he was chasing his high, you came again on his cock, clenching around it as your juices spilled down to the floor.

He let out a loud moan as he felt you clench around his cock and came inside of you again, riding his orgasm out slowly as you both were panting for air, he pulled out and laid next to you, pulling you into his arms.

You can feel his cum running down from your cunt and you turned into a more comfortable position and rested your head on his chest, giving him kisses while he strokes your hair gently.

You felt safe in his arms.

#neteyam sully #neteyam #avatar #x reader #avatar 2 #avatar: twow #fanfic #x reader smut #avatar fanfiction #neteyam smut #avatar smut #avatar x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam fanfiction

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writingmochi · 5 months

Text

a terra incognita introduction

cast: jake ✗ fem.reader

synopsis: as the world entered the middle of the 21st century, many things have changed for the better or for worse in the newly united korea peninsula: the preparation for the succession of the new conglomerates of the past decade, the uprising of deviant androids, and the new layer of life shield by walls of codes. in the middle of it, two beings are trying to understand each other and the situation of the world they live in; an unknown territory

genre: cyberpunk, cyber noir, psychological thriller, science fiction, dystopian future, politics and philosophies regarding artificial intelligence and humanity, romance, drama, angst, mature content (war and revolution, explicit smut)

based on: video game cyberpunk 2077 (2020) and detroit: become human (2018), anime serial experiments lain (1998), and tv show succession (2018-2023)

masterlist

united korea

the united republic of korea (known as "united korea") is an east asia nation on the korean peninsula. as a result of the reunification agreement back in 2025 of the former north and south korea, the state has now prospered in terms of sociopolitical and economic issues from the korean war. it now excels technologically as one of the firsts in the world to introduce commercialized androids along with other east asian countries such as japan and china. in the aftermath of the social media collapse and the cyber world war of 2027-2030, the private conglomerates of the state have released a new way to connect to the information superhighway.

FLAG

(flag link to r/alternatehistory on reddit)

INFORMATION

capital cities: neo seoul | neo pyongyang

population: 65.5 million

language: korean | english | japanese | chinese

>> HISTORY

>> GEOGRAPHY

>> GOVERNMENT

>> SOCIETY

>> ECONOMY

>> MILITARY

>> MAJOR CITIES

neo seoul

one of the capital cities of united korea and the former capital of south korea, neo seoul is a metropolis for the state's bustling life from the most traditional to the most modern. neo seoul is known for six districts that are divided by the han river flowing in the middle, known as the division of north seoul and south seoul

north seoul encapsulates the traditional side of neo seoul and the center for the city's and state's government administration

south seoul lies the center of neo seoul's economy where conglomerates build their headquarters. a distinct living cost gap can be seen to compare those living in the north and those in the south where it is connected to incheon, a major city of transportation with its international seaports and airport

neo pyongyang

one of the capital cities of united korea and the former capital of north korea, neo pyongyang is the capital of the parliament of united korea. it's located on the taedong river kilometers upstream from the yellow sea. it is known as the city where the declaration of unification was signed along with its establishment as half of the capitals of the unified countries. much of the population of neo pyongyang are citizens coming from the southern of the peninsula as they migrate to fill in the spaces and utilize materials. it is also a growing industrial hub where conglomerates built their factories, along with kaesong.

with the rise of deviancies from androids made by shim laboratories, journalists have made observations and assume that neo pyongyang is the main hub of the rebellion between androids and their creator (as one human equates to two androids), creating unrest between the two parties. yet, they also say that neo pyongyang is a better refuge for deviant androids than neo seoul.

taglist: @raeyunshm @endzii23 @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @cha0thicpisces @y4wnjunz @yeehawnana @beansworldsstuff @kimipxl @blurryriki @reallysmolrenjun @frukkoneeeeg

#enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen angst #enhypen fanfiction #jake x reader #rsc: t.i.#cr: jake #cs: enhypen #sc: regina

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velvet-cupcake-games · 1 year

Note

are any of the LIs prone to stealing blankets/pillows in the middle of the night? snoring? where would they rank in terms of best to share a bed with?

Some spoilers have been purposefully omitted from these descriptions.

Robin is a generally inoffensive sleeping partner, he snuggles at snuggle time and then pulls away when it's time to focus on sleep. If his partner is a morning person, though, they can expect a friendly greeting.

John doesn't mind if you sleep right on top of him, which is useful when an extra-large bed isn't available. He's nice and warm and won't feel your weight at all. Will can be a bit of an accidental bed hog because his long limbs go every which way; best to just give in and accept an octopus-like spooning situation. That's better than accidentally being thwapped in the face by an arm in the middle of the night (these incidents will be reduced as he becomes used to sleeping with a long-term partner).

Meissa prefers to sleep close to their bed partner. Not necessarily snuggling (though that's great), just close enough to feel that their lover is next to them.

Alanna can be a bit of a blanket hog, she tends to wrap herself up like a burrito... but a clever bedmate can manage to insinuate herself into the burrito and Alanna is happy to snuggle while sleeping. I have an image of Geoffrey sometimes sleeping on his back with his arms crossed over his chest like a mummy. Economy even in repose.

Gui does not share a bed with his partners. This will change post-game if he is romanced by Marion, but as of the beginning of the game he is not open to that kind of intimacy.

#made marion #ask

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godsvvept · 2 years

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º . ♔ ⸻ the capital of king’s landing welcomes GWYNESSE of HOUSE ( s ) LANNISTER ( by marriage ) & GOODBROTHER ( by birth ), the LADY of LANNISPORT. the THIRTY year old CISWOMAN is reputed to be ENTERPRISING and MELLIFLUOUS, but with the eyes of court watching their every move, they might turn out to be IMPERIOUS and DESENSITIZED. when songs are sung, their verses speak of THE TIDE VICIOUSLY BREAKING AGAINST THE SAND AND SPLASHING AGAINST THE WALL, A NEVER ENDING, ALL TOO FAMILIAR CALLING ; “WHAT IF I TOLD YOU I’M SPLIT IN HALF? WHAT IF I TOLD YOU: I’M THE KNIFE?” ; PENELOPE, THE QUEEN OF ITHACA, PATIENTLY TENDING TO THE WEAVING OF A SHROUD AND OF A FUTURE OF HER OWN DESIGN. whispers throughout the seven kingdoms claim that their allegiance lies with HOUSE LANNISTER OF LANNISPORT / HERSELF, where they conspire to GET RID OF THE SQUABBLES ON HER SHIPYARD AND INSTAL HER HUSBAND AS RULING LORD. but in the end fealty means little when you play the game of thrones.

full name : gwynnesse lannister, née goodbrother. alias / nickname : gwyn, ness, senne, the gilded siren. age : thirty. gender and pronouns : ciswoman and she / her. orientation : demisexual demiromantic. occupation : lady consort of lannisport ( as wife of the lord heir ), secretly acting regent of lannisport. faceclaim : naomi battrick.

date of birth : first month of the year of 270. parents : gorold goodbrother & eydis farwynd. siblings : eleven sisters ( two older, nine younger ) and three brothers ( all older ). significant other : tba lannister, lord heir of lannisport. offspring : at least five children. she does not always remember their names. religious affiliation : the faith of the seven ( public; converted by marriage ), the drowned god ( by birth ).

inspirations : eleanor guthrie ( black sails ), jocelyn castell ( jamestown ), penelope of ithaca ( odyssey ), cersei lannister ( asoiaf ), ariel ( the little mermaid ), georgia ( ginny & georgia ), isabella the she wolf of france ( history + knightfall ), livia drusilla ( domina ), emma of normandy ( history + vikings valhalla ), nurbanu sultan ( magnificent century + history ), caroline collingwood and marcia roy ( succession ).

application ; full statistics ; tdlr and connections below the cut.

trigger warning for : toxicity ( both for her #girlboss gaslight gatekeep ways and for her actually poisoning her father in law oop. )

as the third born daughter, it seems all that she could be has already been taken by either gael ( begrudgingly, the childrearing ) or gyda ( their mother’s old chainmaille ) — straining for individuality or selfishness ( one and the same, at times, but who cares ), young gwyn would attempt to reach out for father instead, an endeavor that while others ( most of the other goodbrother girls ) would fail, she would succeed. before the rebellion made him harder, and even afterwards, she took prize in being one of the few to pry a smile out of him, and, most of all, she enjoyed accompanying him to the family mines, learning of the ores and the business and economy, while taking home whatever shiny little rock she could.

although she trained with the sword, as well as the needle ( her mother had, after all, been a notorious shieldmaiden and now she was a loyal wife who had given her lord fifteen children ), gwynesse preferred the former, if only because being a lady paired up well with what she was truly good at : cunning.

still, once she was sixteen, she asked to take a part of a crew that would travel to essos. although she cared nothing for physical exertion activities, she greatly enjoyed the trip — it made her realize that the iron islands were nothing compared to the world and, perhaps, she would rather be elsewhere. somewhere better, greater.

the realization of her wish was a double edged sword: while she did manage to go somewhere greater, she almost died ( or actually died, and was brought back to life by the drowned god who wished to set her to greatness, in her own mind ) when the ship wrecked, and she washed around westerland waters. she was rescued by the heir to lannisport, who took a liking to her and took her to his home to be cared for. there, fearing she would be killed or worse for being an ironborn, she pretended to be amnesiac and was allowed to remain at the castle out of courtesy.

during that time, she effectively managed to make the lord heir fall for her ( and if she fell for him too, it was, then, a sweet consequence ). once she fell with child, she arranged so her brothers would come retrieve her — the shot gun of sorts wedding was a good enough deal, for she did bring a big dowry, even if her father - in - law ( and possibly her husband, though he was easier to bend ) was not very pleased with having an ironborn for a daughter.

within two years after that, her husband was called to lead a part of the lannister fleet, and gwynesse remained at lannisport, bregundigly bearing babies and facing scrutiny from the westerlanders who thought of her as too foreign to be trusted — a sentiment her father - in - law shared, refusing to allow her in and aid him with anything of importance, much to her distaste. at some point, she begins poisoning him with lead ( something that has no taste, no smell and that slowly can drive one to madness and several other unpleasant physical ailments ), which leads him to become more dependent on her and, of course, she takes advantage of that to help him rule lannisport.

currently, it’s been over ten years since the poisoning started, and if anyone points at her, gwynesse is offended and can easily begin tearing up if necessary, even offering to take on his food and drink if they are so suspicious. her husband defends her, likely unbeknownst, something she is glad for. gwynesse has no qualms in engaging in falsity, and even takes enjoyment of that, of this power.

her father - in - law is greatly debilitated, of course, and she is, for all purposes, mistress and ruler of lannisport, a duty she does not take lightly and tries her best to always stay on top, either that be to know who comes into town, what goods arrive and of the deals happening in it — it is an understatement to say she is controlling, and likes things her way. while some may frown at such power being granted to an ironborn, most have come to terms that she is as westerlander as one can be, proved by her loyalty to lannisport and to the many children she has birthed and raises under the light of the seven.

truthfully, she does not feel westerlander — but also she no longer feels ironborn. this is not a sentiment that disturbs her much, however, for she is content with her position and very busy occupation, but she is growing more bothered by the day by the ironborn growing bolder around the westerlands coast and how that may disturb her security in her role. besides mother, wife, ruler, daughter, sister, she is now being pushed to be a diplomat, a position that may be all too suited to her silver tongued ways, but that she is less pleased to juggle, as it may jeopardize all that she prizes and worked so hard to build.

i’d love more goodbrothers, particularly geirdis, her twin sister ( annie has put the wc on the main with all the information but i’m glad to help out with more ideas if needed ). the goodbrothers are often around lannisport, either for business or for familial affection.

the friendship is not entirely stretched to the other ironborn, but it wouldn’t be unlikely some do come in lannisport and i think interactions between gwyn, who has definitely been ‘corrupted’ by the way of the westerosi and enjoys dealing with the gold price rather than the iron price, and her old countrymen.

anyone from the westerlands or who stops by lannisport really. this also includes people who have not come to lannisport, but do deals within the city or with the lannisters of lannisport, as she often speaks for them all

due to the children and to her duties at the realm of lannisport, she is not often away from it, but it’s possible her husband could have taken her to some nearby places, or even acquaintances from that travel over a decade ago, when she was just one out of many goodbrothers

the lannisters of lannisport! please!!! at the moment i only have her husband and his sister, but they’re both pretty interesting — there’s all sort of things to explore with her husband, his position at sea, the shift to proper lordship and how he deals with her ambitions and everything else in their relationship; his sister is rosamund lannister, who is acting as lady / doppleganger for myrcella on kings landing. i’ve sent wcs for the both of them but i’m very game to discuss or change anything if necessary!

#oath.intro

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bemusedlybespectacled · 1 year

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I posted 5,941 times in 2022

That's 3,533 more posts than 2021!

300 posts created (5%)

5,641 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@hadeantaiga

@sorrelchestnut

@do-you-have-a-flag

@vaspider

@piratewolf

I tagged 1,460 of my posts in 2022

#our flag means death - 383 posts

#personal - 235 posts

#askbox - 98 posts

#whump - 45 posts

#castlevania - 42 posts

#someone get that man a dom - 42 posts

#the witcher - 36 posts

#con o'neill - 32 posts

#izzy hands - 32 posts

#bb is a lawyer - 31 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#my religious affiliation is 'nothing unless we're discussing different denominations of christianity at which point i am catholic on main'

I sent 1 gift in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

honestly, I'm okay with spending money to get rid of ads my ad-blocker normally can, and I appreciate @staff giving us this option instead of making it a patreon clone. I pay for a subscription to Reddit and TVTropes and Dropout because I can afford it and I like to support websites I want to stay active. I'm actually even more willing to spend that money on Tumblr.

7,753 notes - Posted February 24, 2022

okay I know the popular conception of stede and lucius' relationship is a father/son thing but like, okay, I get it, and I'm here for it, but I also don't get that vibe at all.

like, I don't think lucius admires/looks up to stede in a parental way. he likes stede, he's supportive of stede, but personally I wouldn't call my dad a bizarre little man or ask him how his breakup is going. like, that's way too informal. that's more a relationship of equals than anything else.

nope. I think their relationship is actually elder gay/baby gay (in the sense of experience rather than chronological age). lucius has been out for years, he has a lot of experience in relationships, he is way more able to read relationships (e.g. knowing that ed and stede are flirting before they even realize they're flirting), and because of that he is extremely well equipped to give advice about navigating queerness.

stede, on the other hand, has just barely started to dip his toes in the gay pool. like regardless if you go with the theory that stede didn't even realize he was gay until he met ed or that he knew for years but couldn't acknowledge it openly until he met ed, stede has zero practical experience. he is, in his forties, experiencing a bunch of "firsts" that lucius probably did in his teens or early twenties. the entire emotional landscape is foreign to him (and I was going to make a joke about how pirating is also foreign to him but then I started thinking about how piracy in this show is a metaphor for queerness and that's a whole second essay)

basically I think lucius spent the first however-many weeks on board the revenge being like "oh my god this guy is a naive idiot but at least he's paying me," and then he heard nigel badminton joking about how he used to bully stede in school and his gaydar went off like mad, and at that moment his attitude changed to "someone needs to protect this naive gay idiot and that person is me" and that's where it is for the rest of the season.

9,160 notes - Posted April 14, 2022

the best part is they politely gave alex jones’s lawyer the opportunity to fix their mistake and they DIDN’T DO IT. smh shaking my head

TEN DAYS. THEY HAD TEN FUCKING DAYS. AND THEY DIDN'T DO SHIT. AND THEN THEY HAD A CHANCE TO LOOK AT THE TEXTS AND OBJECT BEFORE THEY WERE ENTERED INTO EVIDENCE AND THEY DIDN'T. the unmitigated GLEE in bankston's voice when he's like "and as of two days ago, it fell free and clear into my possession, and that is how I know you LIED TO ME" is just fucking awe-inspiring. i love this man.

9,412 notes - Posted August 3, 2022

i feel like every activist should read about fruitlands.

fruitlands was a transcendentalist utopian commune founded in the 1840s. the founders (including louisa may alcott's dad) thought that the existing capitalist economy was evil: alcott described it as a tree “whose root is selfishness, whose trunk is property, whose fruit is gold." so they decided to create a commune that was completely divorced from the economy. like, their response to the "you say you're against capitalism but still participate in it! checkmate socialists!" people was literally "you're right, let's not!"

they refused to consume any materials or foods that couldn't be locally grown, like tea or sugar. they were also highkey vegan: not only was it immoral to eat animal products and use animals for leather and wool, but using animal labor or even using manure as fertilizer was forbidden. and they refused to trade for anything they didn't have within the commune because participation in an oppressive economy was bad, especially if it supported slave labor (ex: wearing cotton fabric).

it fell apart in less than a year because they didn't have enough food to survive the winter.

why?

well, part of it was circumstantial: the site they picked had little arable land and they arrived a month behind in the planting schedule. part of it was the impracticality of living in the 1840s and being so vegan that they couldn't even use oxen to plough their fields or wear clothes that were warm in cold weather.

but the main reason was that the men of the commune (and they were almost all men, except for alcott's wife and another woman, ann page) didn't actually, like, do anything. they left all the household chores and childcare to the women, plus most of the farm work, while they sat around and philosophized about how cool their utopia was. even before it fell apart, most people there had began taking "vacations" away from fruitlands so that they could take hot baths and avoid trying to till the soil with their bare hands.

there are a lot of good lessons here.

1. it's very easy to talk about your great ideas for society but putting them into practice is much harder. you have to actually do the work to achieve the goal: you can't shunt it off onto other people based on the same oppressive systems you're trying to subvert.

2. you need to consider the practical implications of what you're arguing for, including potential downsides. banning wool for ethical reasons is all well and good until you're stuck wearing linen clothes and canvas shoes in the middle of a massachusetts winter.

3. you can't expect that a utopia is going to be all the things you like about society staying the same and everything you dislike being changed. that is at best naïve and at worst intensely selfish.

tl;dr: talk is cheap, praxis is hard.

20,261 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

youtube

I already knew a lot of criticisms about cryptocurrency and NFTs but HOLY SHIT Dan Olson just spent two hours very carefully and viciously picking apart every single aspect of the entire operation and explaining exactly why it's capitalism at its worst and is basically a perfect scam machine

23,874 notes - Posted January 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Youtube

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