#that’s a ton of money for something that simple | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emmyrosee · 17 days

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Can we talk about how rintaro probably swallows your engagement ring by accident?

Honestly? Okay listen… Do you think he swallows it? I think he swallows it.

Because like okay. Rintaro puts a ton of planning behind everything he does, he wants to make your engagement this massive scene out of a movie because you’re out of a movie; you swooped into his life and showed him the path he wants to be on, the one that always leads back to you.

But like. Why would everything not crumble around him each and every time he tries to work up the courage to finally pop that four word phrase?

It was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to be easy.

An engagement ring, propped on some frosting on the center of the cake, ready for you to scoop up and slip on and give him an excited yes and the world would clap and he’d get a Nobel prize or something for such an extravagant proposal.

Except. That doesn’t happen.

The first bite Rintaro takes, he shovels in his mouth nervously, and there’s a massive shock to his teeth when they clank down hard on the ring on his cake.

How he didn’t notice? How the waiter messed them up? He blames it on the waiter.

Him swallowing the ring..? Yeah no. That’s got him written all over it.

His nerves just got the best of him and sends the large diamond down his throat, eyes bulging out as he realizes. He chokes briefly, grabbing his wine and gulping it down to wash the jewelry down.

Uh oh.

“Baby?” You ask. “Something wrong?”

“…nope.”

The rest of dinner is silent, you trying desperately to make conversation and his mind going insane trying to process what to do next.

Your engagement ring, the object that completely envelops your love in a physical sense is floating in the acids of his stomach, and who knows what the next step in the plan is.

He dreads it.

The car ride is complete silence, you occasionally clearing your throat or sighing to try and strike a conversation, but Rin’s mind is on a complete other planet, trying to make a map of his next move and how to get the ring 1.) out of his body and 2.) to you.

Is he really going to give you a ring he ate? He can’t. That’s vile. But he can’t spend the money on another one, even if it is more than worth it to spend it on you, and-

“Rin,” you whisper, touching his thigh. “You just blew a red light.”

“Damn- I’m sorry,” he apologizes.

“Don’t be sorry… is everything alright?”

“Just fine.”

“Are you mad at me?”

His foot slams hard, hard on the breaks, causing commotion behind him as the wailing of car horns fills the air. “God, baby, no, of course not!”

“Then why have you been so quiet?” You ask sadly.

“I can’t tell you.” Out of embarrassment and stupidity, he thinks to himself.

You leave it at that. You go quiet again, and when he makes a move to rest his hand on your thigh, you turn away, and his whole heart sinks.

The rest of the ride home drags on. There’s no more attempts of noise, no more sighs or clearing of throats, only the roar of the engine for a few more miles until you get home. He barely gets the chance to park the car before you’re out and storming up the driveway, clearly upset with the situation. He sighs and follows you in, and you’ve hiked up the stairs to the bathroom. He winces at the slam of the door, and he’s quick to call osamu for advice.

Advice that the twin gives him around countless gawfs of unhelpful, judgmental laughter.

He tells Rintaro to calm down and stop being weird towards you- take a spoonful of laxatives mixed in with water and let the body “process” for as long as it needs to. Get you a new ring, trash the old one and mourn the loss of money after you two get engaged.

He sighs and ends the call, making his way to the upstairs bathroom where he keeps the medicine. You brush past him in a towel, refusing to acknowledge him or his presence with so much as a “hmph.”

The shower he takes alone is cold, his mind is loud and his heart is pounding and his stomach queases for more than a few reasons. How could he have messed this up so badly? It was supposed to be cute! Just flashy enough for him to flaunt you, but simple enough to not be messed up.

Yet he messed it up.

Rintaro dries himself and makes his way into the bedroom, where you’re already burrowed under the covers on your side of the bed. He throws on some form of pajama before making his way downstairs to make his laxative drink.

One tablespoon of laxative mixed with water, allow body to process for one day before repeating, let all powder dissolve before drinking- he follows every single one of the thorough instructions completely, and he starts to drink the concoction with a scowl of disgust.

The hell is this made out of?

“What’re you still doing up?” You ask, and he swallows the last of the laxative with a wince.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he confesses. Then, he sighs and turns to face you, and your face tells him everything he needs to know.

You’re still upset.

“Listen,” he begins, carding a massive hand through his hair. “About tonight. It was absolutely nothing you did. It was my fault, and my annoyance and attitude had nothing to do with you.”

“Okay,” you sigh, but there’s an unconvinced lilt in your voice.

“I wanted this to be a perfect night, I wanted it to go so well-“

“Rinnie?”

“And I’m sorry, about my silence in the restaurant,” he sniffles, big hands pressing against his face and rubbing roughly. “The chef was supposed to put it on our cakes and his little rat waiter messed it up, and-“

“Put what on our cakes?”

“YOUR ENGAGEMENT RING!” He groans in complete agony. “Your ring! Fuck! I tried so hard to make the perfect proposal, and I just wanted it to be beautiful-“

“My… my ring?”

“Uh…. Yeah?”

“My engagement ring?”

Your bottom lip wobbles, and he feels like he’s going to upchuck every bit of food he’s ever eaten.

Though that may not be the worst thing at this point.

“You wanna marry me?” You wail, collapsing to your knees in excitement. He perks up slightly, slipping of his seat to join you on the floor.

“Of course I want to marry you,” he confesses. “God, I’ve… I’ve wanted to marry you for the past three years, I got the ring perfect four months ago.” He blinks out a line of tears to mimic yours, and you cup his cheeks in your trembling palms. “But every time I tried to propose, something went wrong, and I… I didn’t know how to do it anymore. I’m sorry baby…”

“Rintaro,” you say softly, chuckling around the your quivering voice. “I never needed a big proposal. Ever. All I ever want is for you to promise me we’ll be together. And that’s more than enough.”

His face softens before he lets a hand smack his face in obliviousness, disappointed in himself that he got so lost in trying to impress you that he almost didn’t.

“Put it on me!” You squeal, holding out your hand. He turns a scarlet red and looks away.

“I uh… I can’t.”

You deflate slightly, and he gives you an embarrassed smile. “Why not?” You whimper, emotionally fried from the rollercoaster he just put you on.

“I don’t have it.”

“What!”

“I mean, technically i do,” he says, gnawing his lip. “But I… uhm… I can’t give it to you yet. I uh… I need a few days. And… a few cleaners to look at it.” He gives you a shy chuckle and his toothy grin is mixed with frightened eyes, and your own widen. “The uhm… the ring was on the cake…”

Your hands clasp over your mouth, tears immediately drying and replacing with small, choked and stifled laughter.

“You didn’t,” you manage. He nods, uncomfortable. “Did… did you eat my ring, Rintaro?”

“It wasn’t my fault! Damn waiter gave us the wrong cakes!”

“AND YOU SWALLOWED IT?”

“I WAS NERVOUS, OKAY?”

“RINTARO!”

You two clutch each other on the cold kitchen floor as you laugh, heads knocking against each other as you steal kisses from between cackles.

“I’ve got an idea,” he says once you’ve both seemed to calm down, and he quickly pops on his feet to grab the bread on the counter. With the twist tie, he takes it off the bread and makes his way back to you. “Give me your hands.”

The tie only fits around the top part of your ring finger, and you sniffle softly at how silly and sweet this whole thing is.

“We’re gonna get married,” he says between an emotional wheeze. “And we’re going to grow old together, have our nine dogs and four cats.”

“No kids?”

“Ew gross.”

“Yeah, sure, as if you don’t bend to my every whim bro.” You shift slightly to rest your back against his chest, curling against his still sitting frame. “And our kids are going to love the Miyas-“

“Because you love the Miya’s. I have nothing to do with that.”

“As if Osamu’s not going to be your best man,” you scoff. He smirks and buries his face in your hair, listening to your words weave through his brain and calming him down from the disaster of a night.

Then, he hums, “you want to take my last name?” He asks, and you give him a small swat on the leg. “What! Im just asking!”

“Of course I’m going to take your last name,” you say, turning your head up to face him. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Yeah?” He asks breathlessly, tearing up again when you nod.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

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rosyblooom · 2 months

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blooming season🌷 (1) | ln4

"grief is just love with no place to go”

PAIRING: lando norris x fem nepo!reader WORD COUNT: 2.6k WARNING(S): mentions of death & blood, swearing SUMMARY: four years after she fled monaco, y/n is back on the anniversary of her father's death. however, an unexpected encounter with an f1 driver disrupts her plans. A/N: my first time doing this, so probably has errors. if you've got any thoughts or requests pls let me know xoxo hope u enjoy! :)

part 1 <- | part 2

The scent of salt still lingers in the air, but now it feels different, not as welcoming as it used to be. It's a painful reminder of days gone by, days filled with joy and warmth that now seem distant and unattainable. No matter how hard you try, you can't shake off the memories, replaying them in your mind like a scratched vinyl record that refuses to play properly.

Today marks four years since your father's passing, and four years since you left Monaco. You were just eighteen then, fresh out of high school, when the news of your father's tragic car accident hit you like a ton of bricks. In a desperate attempt to escape the overwhelming sorrow, you packed your bags that very night and left before the weight of it all drowned you.

You couldn't bring yourself to attend your father's funeral, clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't real. But deep down, you knew the truth—your father was gone, and nothing could change that. Even as you threw yourself into your studies, pursuing a nursing degree, the pain never truly went away.

And now, here you are, sitting alone on this deserted stretch of beach, watching the waves crash against the shore in a steady rhythm.

This spot holds a special place in your heart, known only to a handful of locals—a fact you couldn't be more grateful for. Here, away from the watchful eyes of tourist crowds, you find solace as you simply listen to the earth rotate.

You exhale slowly, leaning forward to brush the sand from your palms before reaching into your bag for the bottle of red wine nestled inside. It takes a bit of effort to uncork it completely, but the satisfying pop is worth the wait. With careful precision, you fill a wine glass to the brim with the rich, maroon liquid—something to take the edge off.

"Welcome back, Y/N," you whisper to yourself, lifting the glass in a silent salute. "Thank you, thank you. I can't imagine anything worse."

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips, a stark contrast to your usual composed demeanour. It's been 1,460 days, yet it feels like your world only just came crashing yesterday.

Needing calm now, you take a sip of the wine, savouring its sweetness, when the sound of approaching footsteps catches your attention, pulling you back to the present moment.

"Seriously?" you think to yourself, feeling your heart plummet like a stone sinking into deep waters. You took every precaution to keep your return under wraps—after all, you paid good money for that privilege.

Arriving just last night, you made it a point to rise at the crack of dawn, a time before the world awoke; a time when it's just you and no one else. You couldn't bear the idea of facing the prying eyes that would surely accompany the day ahead. For once, you didn't want to be known as the daughter of one of Monaco's wealthiest families; you simply wanted to be yourself, stripped of titles and expectations—a daughter mourning her father.

Feeling like a trapped animal, you become acutely aware of every sound and movement, your gaze locked on the figure approaching.

A man.

His brown curls bounce with each step until he comes to an abrupt stop just a few feet away from you.

With a small wave and a nod, he greets you with a simple "Hey."

It takes a moment for you to register that the greeting is directed at you, causing you to tear your gaze away without a response. Your eyes flit between the gentle ripples of the sea and the man settling down uncomfortably close, prompting an annoyed grunt to escape your lips.

“Fuck spatial awareness, huh…,” you mutter under your breath, though not quiet enough to evade his notice. He slips off his black headphones, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Sorry, what?"

You clear your throat, then sit up straight and gesture expansively. "All this space, and you have to sit right next to me?”

He smiles.

Your gaze narrows.

"But I'm not right next to you," he retorts with a playful grin. "You're all the way over there." He points towards you and then at himself. "And I'm right here."

"Well, it's still too close," you snap.

"Sorry, did you buy this beach or something?" he counters, his grin widening. "Last time I checked, it's open to all members of—."

Growing increasingly frustrated, you interject, "No, I didn't buy anything. I just want some personal space. But clearly, that's lost on you."

With a scoff, you spring to your feet, snatching up your towel and cramming it into your bag, sand and all.

"Wait, you don't have to leave," he insists, his footsteps drawing closer. But you pay him no mind, tossing your phone into your bag and hastily gathering the rest of your belongings from the ground.

Once everything is crammed into your bag, you snatch up your half-empty glass of wine and stand upright, only to feel a foreign warmth enveloping your hand and glass. The man now stands directly in front of you, invading your personal space completely; you have to tilt your head back slightly to meet his piercing green gaze.

"Look, I'm sorry if I did something wrong, but—" he begins, but you cut him off sharply.

"Way too close now," you snap, attempting to pull your hand away, but he refuses to release his grip.

"You do realise I'm trying to apologise, right?" he asks, confusion evident in his eyes.

"I don't care."

His grip remains firm. "There's plenty of space for both of us here."

"It doesn't matter anymore," you respond, your patience wearing thin.

The struggle continues, your voice growing louder with each tug. "Let go of the fucking glass!"

Suddenly, a sharp yell pierces the air, followed by the hollow thuds of broken glass hitting the ground. Shock washes over you as you barely register the sticky liquid trickling down your hand and onto your toes.

"Ah, shit," he exclaims, snapping you out of your daze. You quickly assess the situation, noticing the shattered remnants of the wine glass scattered on the ground, staining the sand crimson.

Panic sets in as you frantically check your hand and feet for any injuries, your eyes wide with fear. After several anxious moments, you breathe a sigh of relief.

I'm okay.

The tranquillity is abruptly shattered by deep groans echoing through the air, drawing your attention to the man's slumped figure with his back turned to you. His face remains hidden from view.

Though he's clearly in pain, you're tempted to slip on your shoes and make a hasty escape. Today is already burdened with its own weight; you're not sure you can handle any more. You even take a step back, ready to flee, but then something stops you.

A pang of guilt washes over you, weighing you down like heavy bags strapped to your legs. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly admit to yourself, "I can't believe I'm about to do this."

"Okay, fine. How about you put on your big boy boots and let me take a look at that?" you say, crossing your arms expectantly.

There's no reaction from him, not even a response.

Rolling your eyes, you drop your bag onto the sand and cautiously circle around him until you're face-to-face with his unruly brown curls.

"Hello?" you tap his shoulder, frustration creeping into your voice. "Earth to the stranger who doesn't understand personal space?"

"Seriously?" he retorts, his tone sharp.

His eyes meet yours as he straightens up, his expression guarded, but you simply shrug, maintaining a neutral demeanour, and extend your hand.

"Let me see," you say calmly.

For a moment, he simply stares at you in bewilderment, but then he tentatively extends his hand towards yours.

"I see," you breathe, examining the large cut in his palm with care, mindful not to dirty it with your fingers. Despite the blood seeping from the wound, you release a relieved sigh after a thorough inspection—it's not as deep as it initially appeared.

"Alright," you announce, dropping his hand and clapping your hands together. "Go home, make sure nothing touches that hand, clean the cut, and bandage it. Keep it dry for a couple of days, and then reassess."

Without waiting for a response, you turn towards your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and shoot him one final glance.

"This has been... unpleasant," you remark dryly. "I really hope our paths don't cross again. Goodbye."

"Wait!"

You shake your head and ignore him, determined to continue onward.

"Wait!" he calls out again, desperation evident in his tone. "I don't have any bandages!"

You stop walking, considering his words, but still don't turn around.

"And... I don't have any sanitising stuff either," he adds, his voice trailing off slightly.

Slowly, you turn around and wave your hands dismissively in the air, shouting back, "That's what supermarkets are for! I guess it's time for a shopping trip!"

Just as you're about to spin on your heel and leave again, his voice cuts through the distance.

"Look, you seem like you know what you're doing. Can't you just help me out here?"

Shielding your eyes from the harsh glare of the sun, you squint at him as he begins jogging toward you. "That advice," you shout back, "was me helping you out. Trust me, I wanted to leave way earlier."

For a moment, neither of you speaks as you watch him closing the distance between you. When he finally comes to a halt in front of you, you instinctively take two steps back—you need your personal space.

"So?" he says between pants, waiting for your response.

You furrow your brows, deep in thought. "Well, I don't have anything on me, sorry to disappoint. But like I said, there are shops around here."

You resume your walk, but to your dismay, the guy falls into step with you almost immediately.

"So, what? You have nothing at home?" he presses, his gaze burning into the side of your face.

Refusing to meet his eyes, you increase your speed.

"Right, because I'm just going to invite a stranger," you emphasise, "who I didn't want to be around in the first place, into my home."

His hand suddenly grips your arm, causing you to instinctively rip out of his grasp, both of you coming to an abrupt halt.

"What?" you bark, irritation seeping into your tone.

"You can google me," he offers, his voice calmer now. "Lando Norris, Formula One driver. Search my name up. You'll see pictures—every single detail about me, you'll probably find on the internet. Now I'm not a stranger anymore, right?" he suggests, his gaze pleading.

You remain silent, shifting your focus toward the calm waters as you breathe in and out. It feels as though the world has paused, waiting for you to come to a decision, to reach a conclusion.

Today, the anniversary of your father's death, is a day you've been dreading yet anticipating for so long. Its disruption unsettles you, but deep down, you know you can't simply ignore it. As much as you wish to skip over this chapter of your life, tear out its pages, and never look back, you can't. It's not healthy.

Still, that doesn't mean you can't delay it for a little while longer.

"Fine," you sigh, relenting to the situation, and begin rummaging through your bag until you locate your phone.

Quickly, you extract it and raise it to Lando's face, snapping a photo of him with the flash on.

"What the hell?" he exclaims, blinking rapidly.

"For my protection," you state matter-of-factly. "Just because you're famous doesn't mean you can't be a bad person."

Once his gaze meets yours again, he runs a hand through his hair and offers a sheepish smile. "Fair enough."

You nod, acknowledging his words, and continue your walk toward the car park.

"I'm not a bad person, though," he adds quickly, catching up to you.

"Colour me convinced," you reply dryly.

*********

As you approach the car park, annoyance bubbles within you at the sight of it: filled with cars and swarmed by dozens of people.

"You said you're a Formula One driver, right?" you ask, tilting your head up at Lando.

"Yeah, why?" he responds.

Instead of answering, you grab the hood of his jacket and pull it over his head.

"Why did you do that—" Lando begins, but you cut him off.

"The last thing I need is a mob of your fans, okay?" you interject firmly. "The quicker we get this done, the sooner we can go our separate ways."

Lando chuckles as he adjusts the hood. "I'm really that bad, huh?"

"Worse," you deadpan.

"...Right."

With your raven car in sight, you quicken your pace, relief flooding through you. The last thing you want is for people to realise you're back, especially not today.

However, as if your luck has run out, a woman steps in front of you, blocking your path. You immediately turn your focus to Lando, motioning for him to take a picture with his fan and hurry up.

But instead of the attention falling on him, a weight suddenly falls onto your shoulder, catching you off guard. You clear your throat, preparing to speak, but the woman beats you to it.

"Oh my goodness, Y/N. It's you, isn't it?" the woman exclaims, her voice filled with recognition and sympathy.

You can't reply; your mouth feels dry, your tongue heavy with unspoken words.

No, not today. Please, not today.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Y/N," she continues, her expression radiating pity. It's uncomfortable—the way she looks at you, the way she touches your shoulder so gently. It feels like you're being burned alive, yet you're immobilised, just as you were four years ago when you first heard the news.

"Your father was such an amazing man. And you, I mean, you've been missed. My daughter loves you—"

Suddenly, you're being pulled forward, jolting you out of your trance. You struggle to keep your balance as you try to comprehend what's happening—the woman is gone, and Lando's hand is firmly clasped around yours, pulling you closer to him.

Your personal space has been completely invaded, yet you don't feel the usual urge to pull away. Even if you did, you're not quite sure Lando would let you.

"Your car's the black one, right?" you hear him ask, but the words don't immediately register.

"Huh?" you mumble, still reeling from the encounter.

"That black car over there," Lando points and leans in close, his gaze locked with yours, "that's yours, right?"

You nod, still not quite ready to speak.

Lando releases your hand and holds out his palm to you. "Okay, car keys, please?"

"What? No," you shake your head, rejecting the idea. "There's no need for that."

"Come on, I'm a Formula One driver, remember? I won't crash it."

"It would be irresponsible of me to let you drive in this state," he adds, his voice firm.

"And what about your hand?" you nod toward the injury.

"Like I said," Lando smiles slyly, cocking his head to the side, "I drive race cars; I think I can handle driving with one hand."

Rolling your eyes, you relent, "Okay, fine."

With a sigh, you fish out the car keys from your bag and hand them over to him.

4:05 ───────────ㅇ─ 4:28

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after-witch · 10 months

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Late Night Break In [Yandere Uvogin x Reader]

Title: Late Night Break In [Yandere Uvogin x Reader]

Synopsis: You never expected to find your soulmate. After all, it’s not like there were lots of people named “Uvogin” out there.

Word count: 3000ish

notes: yandere, soulmate AU, breaking and entering

Another Friday night alone.

But it’s okay. You won’t wallow in self-pity and think about the couples who were out and about the city on romantic dates, or snuggled up on the couch prepping for a night of passionate (or not so passionate, depending on the strength of their relationship) sex.

Life’s too short to wallow. And it’s not like you were exactly alone.

You’ve got your movie collection and your antique figurines and your latest purchase, a vintage sofa with restored upholstery that means you get the benefit of the original aesthetic without the downside of years of stains, rips, and potential bed bugs.

And you have friends. Maybe you don’t see them very often, admittedly because you got tired of being asked when you were going to find your soul mate, whether or not you’d consulted a searching service to find them, if you were interested in one of them paying for the service if you didn’t have the money…

Sure, some people might get a little lonely without their soulmate. Someone who you were meant to be with forever and ever, until one or both of you died. And your coworkers who’d long since found their soul mates or who were actively searching day-after day (usually using those paid services that were perfect for such things--not that you wanted to spend your money on that) sometimes looked at you with these awful pity-filled expressions that made you want to roll your eyes.

More so than your friend’s worried clucks and glances between each other, because at least you knew your friends were coming from a place of worry and not from a place of “why haven’t you done this thing society expects you to do?” like your coworkers.

And, really--

It wasn’t your fault that you hadn’t found your soul mate.

It’s not like there were tons of people in your home city named “Uvogin,” after all.

At least his name was well-hidden on your body. It was written, as everyone’s was, in a neat cursive scrawl in black ink that would never come off. You’d heard stories of people who had gone so far as to cut off the skin that contained their soul mate’s name--fighting destiny and all that--only for the name to pop up somewhere else or sometimes even on the same spot, black as ever on the healing, mangled skin.

It wasn’t something you were going to try.

Uvogin’s name, whoever he was, was on the back of your neck, low, between your shoulder blades. You liked it that way. It meant you couldn’t be the target of scammers or people who’d been unable to find their real soulmate and were obsessively, dangerously desperate to get someone (anyone) to be with them.

And you? Well. You wouldn’t deny that it might be nice to find your soulmate. Some of your friends and coworkers and passers-by-on-the-street certainly seemed happy to be together.

But you weren’t going to stop living your life just because you were still on your own. So if you spent your evenings watching movies or rearranging your decorations or making the perfect beef-and-wine stew for one, what was so wrong with that?

You don’t wake up when someone breaks through the wood of your door with a simple stab of their fingers, slides their hand in, undoes the lock, and turns the door knob to enter without any more fanfare.

You don’t wake up when someone’s eyes dart around your apartment, looking for your bedroom. You don’t wake up when your bedroom door opens with only the tiniest creak.

You only wake up when a hand is slapped over your mouth, and you jolt from a dead sleep with a dizzying suddenness that leaves your head swimming.

You’re awake--you think--and there’s someone above you, a big, heavy presence that seems to take up everything in your field of vision. The taste of salt and flesh is on your mouth, a big hand pressed over your lips and jaw to keep you from moving them.

To keep you from screaming.

“Where is it?” The voice asks, and you can tell it’s a man. But he’s huge, tall as anything, and even in the dimness of your room you can see he has a wild shock of hair that makes him look more like a lion than anything else. The thought is almost silly in the fogginess of your head, but as reality comes in, clearing the way, there’s nothing to laugh about right now.

“Where’s what?” You ask, or try to ask, though you can’t do more than mumble against the large meat of his hand against your face.

It takes him a moment to register that you can’t actually answer. You can see, barely, his eyes narrow down at you.

“Don’t be stupid,” he says, and you won’t be. He wants money, presumably, and you can give him that. Or your TV. Or whatever he wants. As long as you make it out alive.

Slowly, he removes his hand, as if waiting to see if you’ll try to scream.

You don’t. As he moves his hand away, your thoughts come quick, untethered, flitting about the unfairness of the situation. You haven’t really lived yet, and you’re too young to die, and you hope he doesn’t hurt you at all but if he does just let him not kill you at least, is that too much to ask, God, you hope not--

“Where is it?” He repeats. And maybe it’s just your imagination or the fear getting to you, but he seems like he’s lowered his voice a little, sounding less harsh and more considerate. Maybe because you didn’t scream and you aren’t making trouble. That’s a good sign, maybe. It’s hard to tell.

You swallow. You wish he would move back, so you weren’t lying on your back in bed. But he does no such thing, so all you can do is stare up at him, heart hammering, mouth dry.

“Where’s what?”

He snorts.

”Your soulmate’s name.”

Does your heart stop? No, but it feels like it does. You expected him to say something else. Like. Your money or your safe or your most valuable items. But your soulmate’s name? Is he some sort of deranged loner who couldn’t find his soulmate and he thinks you’re itt?

Or…

You swallow, thick, as the thought finally comes to you. It’s not something you thought about often, because most people weren’t worried about things like this. But sometimes your soulmate was someone Not Very Nice. Someone that Hunters might be tasked to go after. And this man, bulky and strong and intimidating as hell, could definitely be a Hunter.

More often than not, they went after civilian soulmates when catching the criminals proved to be too difficult--though no one could say for sure what might be done to them afterward.

Some of them were used as bait. Some of them were taken to the authorities to help track down their not-so-law-abiding soulmates. And some… well. You’d heard rumors that killing a soulmate could hinder certain types of criminals.

“None… none of your business.” Your teeth clack against each other, a thin, quick pain that seems to linger on in your mouth.

The man’s lips twist into a frown, half-shadowed by the darkness in the room, although as your eyes adjust you can see more of him. It doesn’t make you feel any less worried about what’s going to happen, though.

“No?”

You see his arm move, and think he’s about to slap his hand over your mouth again, but what he does instead is shove his arm right in front of your face.

You blink.

And stare.

And it takes you a moment to realize what you’re looking at--on his arm, bulky as it is, scared as you are.

It’s your name. In a nice, neat scrawl. Unmistakable and permanently stained on his skin.

This man isn’t a Hunter sent here to kidnap you or drag you into a station or kill you. And he certainly isn’t here to steal your wallet or your television or your collection of rare comic books.

He’s your soulmate.

Uvogin.

“B-Back… back of my neck,” you say, stammering.

He hums. And then he shifts over on the bed, and you instinctively sit up in your bed, glad to no longer be prone underneath him.

“Let me see,” he says, gruff. But there’s a gradual lessening of heaviness in the air, now that you know he isn’t here to kill you or rob you or who knows what else. That still doesn’t excuse breaking into your apartment and doing this, but…

You lean forward, and with a surprising gentleness considering his size, he pulls down the back of your nightshirt enough to see what’s underneath.

“Heh, there it is, huh…”

He lets the fabric go and you lean back, looking at him. He stares down at you, his weight sagging your mattress, his bulky frame taking up most of the bed.

“You gonna scream?”

You think. You bite your cheek. You shake your head.

“You gonna try to run?”

You breathe out through your nose. And you think. And you shake your head. You won’t scream, you won’t run--you can tell without asking that neither of those would do you any good. And… do you really need to? There’s a strange sort of curiosity that’s building inside you, now that you know who he is--your soulmate.

He nods, tilting his head back a little, craning his neck as if to stretch it.

“Hope so. Would be stupid if you tried, and I hope my soulmate isn’t that stupid. You get me?”

You nod again, and your breath hitches just a little when he stands up and begins to stretch his neck again. He sighs, evidently pleased by the releasing of tension, or maybe pleased that he’s found you and you didn’t shriek like a wild banshee and try to get away.

You could still try to run. Your fingers grip on your sheets, still uneasy. Sure, he was your soulmate but… soulmates didn’t usually burst into people’s rooms at night and tell them not to scream. Usually.

Uvogin, like his name, was definitely an outlier.

He leans against the wall next to your bed, looking down at you with appraising eyes. It almost makes you wish you weren’t sitting in bed wearing an old nightshirt, eyes bleary, hair messy. It wasn’t exactly a good first impression.

“Been looking for you for a while,” he tells you. “I thought maybe you were good at hiding… Shalnark’s soulmate kept him out of the loop for a while.” He chuckles to himself, reliving some private memory. “But looks like you’re just that much of a nobody.”

Something inside your chest bristles.

“Excuse me?” You sit up straighter, and finally get the nerve to lean over to your bedside table and flick on the lamp. Your eyes squint for a moment. The addition of new light doesn’t make your soulmate look any less intimidating. But it does make you feel less like some helpless rabbit in the dark, at least.

He raises his eyebrows, and there’s a small part of you--a churning in your stomach--that tells you to sit down and shut up. But you’re not about to be

“That’s rude,” you say, as calmly as you can. “I’m not a nobody just because you couldn’t find me. Maybe it means you’re bad at looking.”

There’s a pause, a beat. You wonder if you’ve pissed him off. But then he throws his head back and laughs.

“Fair enough,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Fair enough.” He sighs, then, and looks up at the ceiling. “There is the question of what to do with you, though.”

Ah, there it is again. That churning in your stomach. A growing pit, tight and electric.

You sit up straighter, and piece what little you know of these puzzles together in your mind. It doesn’t add up to anything particularly wholesome, even with giant chunks missing.

“I… I’m guessing you wouldn’t be okay with a long distance relationship,” you mutter.

He scoffs, a little laugh. “Oh? What gave you that idea?”

He leans forward, and you don’t know exactly what you expected him to do, but it wasn’t to pat you on the head. But he does.

“Smart,” he says, while his voice is teasing there’s something that sounds a little genuine in there. Or were you imagining it? Was it just part of the soul mate bond, maybe, to automatically see things your soulmate did as pleasant?

He sits back down on the bed. The bed frame creaks. You aren’t keen on spending money to replace it, but you aren’t keen on scolding your very large, very strong soulmate right now either. So you keep mum.

He leans forward and rests his hand on his palm, keeping his elbow on his knee.

“Well. I don’t exactly got a house with a white picket fence. Or without one, for that matter.” He rubs at his nose, and it strikes you, how casual this conversation is… your soulmate, sitting on your bed, after breaking into your apartment in the dead of night. You take the moment of his consideration to lean over and look through your bedroom door, which faces the entryway. You can just make out the busted wood of your front door… fuck. What would your landlord say?

“Some of the others got one place they keep their soulmates, suppose I should think about it…” He glances at you, gauging something. “Makes it easier when you have one place to go, ‘stead of dragging your soulmate everywhere.”

His words finally do let you feel a sense of unease. You don’t know who the “others” are, or why they would need to be dragging their soulmates everywhere. He wasn’t a Hunter, but maybe something like it. Something that kept him moving. Or, more likely considering the circumstances of your first meeting, something that kept him on the run.

The thought of being dragged around or even taken to some sort of strange house brings back that churning in your stomach, an awful, lurching feeling. Your eyes dart around your room, to everything you’ve set up in your life up until now.

Every inch of your apartment was carefully chosen, down to the rugs on the floor and the color of the tension rods you’ve shoved into the windowsill. But it’s not just the decor. It’s… your whole life. Your job, the coworkers you’d carefully built relationships with, the fact that you have a favorite diner for breakfast and takeout spot for the weekends.

“I… don’t want to leave here.” Your voice is soft and at first you think he doesn’t hear you, but when you see him raising his eyebrows and lean forward, you get the nerve to continue.

“If-if that’s possible,” you add, a little quickly. “I’d like to stay here. This could be your… the place where you keep me. Or whatever.” The last words come out mumbled. They’re almost embarrassing to say, like you’re some kind of pet.

He doesn’t say anything for a little while. You almost start talking again, some half-baked plead, but he leans a little closer to you. His look is serious.

“How could I trust that you won’t just run away after I leave?”

Your lips press together.

“I worked hard for this place. For this life. I would hate…” And you search for the words, lost somewhere in the dimness of your room. “I would hate for it all to become worthless.”

You sit up straighter, before leaning towards him. Maybe it will be easier to convince him if you don’t act so rigid, so scared. You can do that.

“If you let me stay here, or-or even if you just let me take my favorite things with me, I’ll be… good?”

He snorts. There’s a hint of a smirk as he leans forward.

“Yeah? You’ll be good?”

Warm flushing creeps to your cheeks, and for the first time you think about what it really means to be someone’s soulmate. Togetherness. Intimacy.

Your words come out halted, and fumbling. But you mean them, as long as it guarantees that you don’t have to give up your life. Your apartment, your spots, every carefully curated bit of your existence here. Or even--and the thought is desperate--if he is going to take you away, it would be enough if you could keep your belongings. Just enough.

“I’ll do what you want?” You shrug, keeping your eyes downcast on your lap, though you can see him shift out of the corner of your gaze.. “Cook or clean or… whatever.”

There’s a hand on your chin, but this time he doesn’t cover your mouth. Instead he tilts your chin up and holds it there, forcing you to keep eye contact.

“So what? You want to make a deal? I let you keep some furniture, and you’re going to be a good little housewife for me?”

“I didn’t--” You say, practically spluttering the words out. “I didn’t say that.” Your cheeks feel impossibly hot.

He laughs, and lets go of your chin. You don’t look down.

“No, I like it. It’s cute.” He grins at you. “I’m lucky. Some of the others, well…” He rolls his eyes, and you don’t press him on it.

He drums his fingers against the bed.

You look up at him, eyes wide, hopeful.

He sighs, then gives you a lopsided grin that makes your stomach churn in a different way than before. Though the feeling is just as unnerving.

“All right,” he says, with a casual sort of finality. “You can stay here.” A pause. “For now. If you try anything--and I mean anything, like going to the cops, telling your friends, whatever…” He moves his wrist around in a gesture that you can only take to mean “all of this goes away.” He looks at you with a seriousness that makes you want to press yourself through the headboard and into the wall. “Got it?”

You nod.

But then…

“There’s… one thing I need you to do before morning, then,” you say, voice tight and quiet but determined. “Uvogin,” you add, hoping that using his name might make him a little less intimidating. It doesn’t, but maybe that comes with time.

Both of his eyebrows raise. You almost think he’ll just shut you down, but instead he asks--

“Yeah? What’s that?”

You gesture towards your open bedroom door, towards the front of your apartment.

“You have to fix that door first. My landlord will have a fit.”

For the second time since meeting you, Uvogin throws back his head and laughs.

#yandere uvogin #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #yandere soulmate au #afterwitch writes

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isuckmorethanjustblood · 7 months

Text

witchcraft / deity work on a budget

if you, like me, don't have a lot of money but still want to practise witch craft / give offerings to your deities, here's some general tips on how you can do all that on a budget:

you don't need to burn a whole stick of incense or a whole spell candle at once. in fact, if you light a candle or incense with a specific intent and then burn it over the course of a couple of days, it might actually be more effective. unless you're using it to banish / get rid of something, then it might be better to burn it all in one go.

on that note, you don't need fancy spell candles, a tea light with a sigil carved into it can be enough

if you want to give food offerings but can't afford to waste / not eat food, you can just invite your deity to sit with you as you eat or you can put certain ingredients associated with your deity into your food, like for example wine for dionysus. or you can give them a small crumb of your food or a small sip of your drink to symbolise a whole meal. a lot of deities will also accept simple things like water or olive oil as offerings.

also: offerings don't need to be physical, you can perform certain actions in your deities name, just look up devotional acts for your deity, there's tons of useful stuff out there.

doing creative things like writing your own prayers or making devotional art is actually probably better than most physical offerings, since you put a lot of effort and time into it and its something personal to you. it doesn't even need to be good, you just need to put love and effort into it. this is especially good for deities who rule over the arts.

if you can't buy a whole tarot deck, theres lots of free online versions you can use, or you can use a simple deck of playing cards as a substitute.

anything you find outside can be magical, you don't need to buy any spell ingredients.

feel free to add onto this if you have more tips!!!

#this was made in honour of lord lucifer #witchcraft #luciferianism #deity work #paganism #witch tips #witchy tips #witchcraft 101

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eimids · 7 months

Note

Can I request a Alexia putellas x wife reader, like the reader is a billionaire but the team mistakenly thought that the reader is using Alexia for money or fame because of how the reader dress just like simple clothes and the team tell the reader to leave ale alone... Thank you.....

I changed it to girlfriend just cause it fit better with the story line.

But yeah that's the summery

Warnings: panic attack but not really anything else

You had inherited your parents company after their passing. It had something to do with politics so you weren’t really that interested. And you were only 14 at the time. So when you turned 18 you sold the company to the highest bidder.

That’s how you ended up with a shit ton of money. You had so much of it that it was overwhelming to you. You didn’t really tell anyone about your money situation, not even Alexia. When you started dating, it was the year 2022. Alexia had just ruptured her ACL and was at a bar drinking her sorrows away. Not the most romantic place to meet but for you it was perfect. After a year of dating you had finally told Alexia about your money situation. She understood what it felt like to have so much money, so she helped you with managing it. You donated some of it to different charities. Some of them you put on your savings and some of it you kept on your bank account.

You didn’t dress in designer clothing and didn’t appear to others as a rich person although you had millions. You didn’t want anyone to view you differently because of your money. Alexia loved that about you. She loved how you were down to earth type of person and didn't care about money and what others might think of you. You also hated using money. Although you knew that you had enough many to not work anymore at all, you still felt the need to buy the cheapest things available.

You didn’t really meet Alexia’s friends properly due to her ACL injury. You had met some of them quickly after matches but didn’t get to actually know any of them. They always seemed nice and they made Alexia happy so that was the most important thing.

But the thing about her teammates was that they thought that you were some kind of a gold digger. They heard how Alexia talked about buying you expensive gifts and posting you to her Instagram. They knew that Alexia had money and popularity. You could easily gain a status for yourself. They also knew that Ale could be quite naive sometimes and they wanted to protect her.

They started asking some subtle questions about you. Things like where did you work and did you know who Ale was before meeting her. The answers to those questions didn't ease their doubts. You, a coffee shop worker and a huge football fan, didn't have that big of a salary and you of course knew who Alexia was. In fact, that's why you went to talk to her that day in the bar.

"She's using her for money" Jenni Hermoso was the first to say those words out loud. She didn't like you, you were too good to be true for Alexia. Something had to be wrong with you. Was it jealousy or did she actually care about Alexia's feelings getting hurt? We'll never know.

"You can't know that. Maybe she's in love with Alexia, at least Alexia is in love with her. I mean you all have seen how she looks at her and the way she talks about her. She's head over heels for that girl" Mapi tried to reason. She didn't want to think ill of you, but Jenni was good at convincing the others.

"Well yeah that's the point. Ale is in love with her, and she's probably just in for the money. Alexia just talked how she is going to buy y/n this necklace that costs way too much. I mean I even heard y/n once ask Alexia to bye her some earrings. Clearly she just wants attention and money" Jenni tried to convince the others.

The girls kept talking about the situation for a while before Alexia showed up.

"Oh hi, I'm sorry I'm late. Y/n and I went to this fancy restaurant and time just went by" She explained why she was late to the team bonding night. "Oh look at her in this photo, she looks so cute" She showed the photo to the others.

You were sitting there with a gold necklace hanging from your neck. You were wearing a Gucci dress, which you didn't even really want but Alexia bought it to you still. Her teammates didn't know that and were just thought you made Alexia buy it for you.

"Oh that's a nice dress, bet it costs a lot" Jenni stated.

"Well yeah it was quite expensive but I love to pamper my girl. She's just always stressing about money so I want to show her that she doesn't have to" Alexia explained. When she said you were stressing about money, she meant the fact that you felt bad for having so much of it and it made you anxious. What her friends thought she meant was that you were poor.

"Oh could you drive me home? i would call y/n but her phone broke and she hasn't gotten a new yet. I'm probably going to have to buy her a new so I can reach her" Alexia joked.

"Oh yeah jump in" Jenni answered. She shared looks with the other girls to see if they had heard what Alexia said. Now Patri and Marta were convinced.

"Could I come quickly inside to have some water?" Jenni asked. And Alexia said it was fine of course.

They walked to your home which you share with Alexia. It was an apartment in a good neighborhood. You had split the costs of it but obviously Jenni didn't know that.

"Hi baby I'm home and Jenni is me, I'm just gonna head to the shower" Ale yelled to you and left the hallway to the bathroom. You came from the bedroom to greet your girlfriend and her friend.

"Hi Jenni" You smiled to the brunette. She just hummed.

"So what's your deal with Alexia, you just using her for money or what?" Jenni went straight to the point now that she had the perfect chance to ask you.

"What, no, i love her I would never use her for her money" You were quick to reply. You were shocked that she would even suggest that.

"Well you clearly don't have any money as you can't even pay for a new phone or the dresses you wear" Jenni stated. She was getting frustrated.

"No it's not that, she want's to buy those thing, I've never asked for any of them" You answered dumbstruck.

"Yeah Alexia might be naive enough to think that but I'm not. Break up with her before we'll tell her what you really want from her." Jenni just said and left.

The rest of that night you were quiet and Ale was confused of what happened. She didn't push it thought, maybe you just had a long day.

The next day you drove Alexia to prac. You were nervous to get close to the training grounds but didn't want to be weird so that Alexia wouldn't notice.

"Bye love, have a good prac" You said to her as she hopped out of the car.

You stayed for a bit to change the music and just like that there was a girl knocking on the window of your car. You lowered the window so you could talk.

"Umm is everything okay?" You asked the woman who you had identified as Marta.

"I'm guessing you didn't have a talk with Ale like Jenni suggested?" She just said casually.

"No, I'm not using her for her money" You tried to reason.

"Yeah, I guess we just have to tell her the truth" Marta said and left.

You were afraid. What if Ale would believe them There was no reasonable reason why she would but you still got scared. How did you come off as a gold digger? Why did her friends hate you so much that they came up with that?

You made your way back to home where you bursted to tears. You had always hated the idea of people seeing you differently because of money. And when you tried your hardest to avoid that, it was exactly what happened. They thought that all you wanted from your girlfriend was money. You were scared that Alexia would believe them and then she would just break up. All the worst scenarios came to your mind and soon enough you were in a full panic attack.

"Ale we need to talk" Jenni said to Ale immediately after training.

"Um okay? Is everything ok?" Alexia answered.

"Well no, we all have noticed that y/n is most likely using you just for money and you're just too naive to see that" Jenni started. Alexia grew mad immediately.

"Why would you think that? Of course she's not after the money" Alexia replied angrily.

Jenni tried to explain to Alexia why they thought that you didn't actually love Ale. They explained that it was weird that you didn't mention the conversation you had with Jenni the other night.

"You talked to her about this?! You accused her of being a gold digger? What the fuck is wrong with you?" Alexia panicked. She knew that money was a sensitive topic for you.

Alexia tried to call you but you didn't answer so she just ordered herself a taxi.

"Y/n is the sweetest human being and you are here accusing her of something she didn't do!" Alexia yelled.

"You just can't see it Ale, she's using you" Marta tried.

"Fuck you, and just for your information, she has more money than I do" Alexia yelled and left the room.

She impatiently waited for the taxi. The drive home was a suffering experience. Now she realized why you had been so quiet the night before. She hated her teammates for making you think that you would be just a gold digger.

"Baby I'm here" She yelled when she got home. She was nervous when you didn't come and greet her.

She walked to the bedroom where she found you draped in your comfort blanket. So clearly trying to calm yourself down.

"Oh y/n I'm so sorry" Alexia said as she hurried to your side. She knew you loved physical touch so she made sure to give that to you to help you calm down.

"They shouldn't have said any of that, they are all wrong. I know that you love me and you know that I love you. That's all that matters. They don't know anything about you and they were being assholes with even thinking those thing about you" Alexia said. She was being sincere, you could hear it in her voice.

That helped you calm down. You loved Alexia and she loved you.

I lowkey hate how this turned out. The anon ask was amazing but I feel like I couln't write it properly.

#woso community #wlw post #woso fanfics #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas marry me #alexia putellas #angst

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hellotailor · 2 years

Note

In IWTV, Lestat wears several pairs of trousers where the belt loops are below the waistband. I've never seen/noticed that in anything else before. Is that a historical style? What is it called? Google is giving me nothing and I'm dying over this detail.

these are known as "drop-loop" trousers! i love this detail - it's very distinctive, although i'd associate it a bit more with the 1940s/50s than the earlier decades of IWTV season 1.

IWTV's costumes really embrace the high-waisted silhouettes of menswear in early/mid-20th century america, something that some historical dramas tone down to fit in with modern tastes. (21st century suit pants tend to be tighter and sit lower on the hips, aiming for a "swimmers build" aesthetic.)

sam reid has the perfect figure for 1930s/40s fashion: a narrow waist and wide shoulders. pleated suit trousers have extra fabric around the hips/ass and are cinched in at the natural waist, which a) is comfortable and b) makes the waist look narrower, creating an almost hourglass shape depending on the cut. to modern eyes it can look more feminine than contemporary men's suits, which plays into lestat's Whole Deal.

one pair of lestat's drop-loop trousers (i wish i could find a better pic!) create even MORE emphasis on the waist by leaving a cummerbund-like waistband of fabric above the belt. it's the kind of finicky tailoring detail that makes it obvious that lestat is a real clotheshorse. he and louis clearly spend a ton of money on tailoring.

i also suspect that lestat's american wardrobe was influenced by the fact that he socialized with and lived alongside black people in the new orleans jazz scene. the most exaggerated styles of drop-loop trousers are something i'd associate with Zoot Suits, which were not a white/anglo style and would presumably have been worn by young black men in early 1940s new orleans. (in ep 1, louis is extremely fashionable and accessorized to the hilt, whereas lestat looks like he's wearing a historical costume.)

on a final note, i love that louis continues to wear high-waisted trousers in the present day. his modern outfits are quite soft, vulnerable and minimalist - close to the kind of simple-but-expensive clothes we'd expect to see on one of the cooler young tech billionaires, but with a silhouette that calls back to his youth.

#nervous-breakdown-hat #lestat #costume design #iwtv #interview with the vampire #asks

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 5 months

Text

[8:59 pm]

(cw: f! reader, age gap, consumption of alcohol)

The bar you were in was very loud and crowded. The booth you, your friends, Jaehyun, and your friend's partners had squeezed into was even more crowded. Jaehyun was lucky enough to have scored a seat at the end of the bench which was good because he wasn't squished, but that also meant he only had one leg in the booth and half an ass cheek on the bench.

He was happy to join you and your friends for an evening out. He liked watching you have fun and be carefree with your friends. He liked hearing all the drama you'd all discuss, all the drama about people you hated and updates on your lives. Jaehyun wasn't even ashamed to admit he liked what you wore on these outings. You always wore the cute little dresses he'd buy you because you wanted to"show off what good taste your man had."

Now, there was only so much your little dress could do to distract him from the tiredness seeping in. He was tired of not being able to hear clearly, tired of the awful stuffy smell, the numb feeling that was beginning to form in his leg. But he didn't want to ruin your time out, so he slyly pulled out his phone to text you.

Are you almost ready to go?

The phone on your lap lit up and Jaehyun's eyes widened while his eyebrows furrowed. Something couldn't be right. He couldn't be seeing what he thought he was seeing. That couldn't be him.

He sent another text, just to make sure he was hopefully wrong. A simple heart emoji. And again the screen facing up lit up with the god awful contact name.

Sugar daddy.

His mind was reeling, he didn't even notice you turning to look at him expectantly, blinking your pretty, long lashes up at him. "Jae?"

He hummed, his eyes glazed over, "Yeah, baby?"

"Are you ok?" You ask, placing a reassuring hand on his arm.

He blinks, shaking his head slightly, his arm falls around your shoulder, dragging his fingertips up your bare back softly. He leans in, his lips brushing your ear, "Why is my contact name Sugar daddy on your phone, baby?"

Your eyes widen in surprise, "it's a joke!"

You quickly say goodbye to all your friends, pulling on Jaehyun's arm until you're both outside where it's more quiet. He pulls you closer by your waist, "I was under the impression that a sugar daddy was an older man who gave girls an allowance in exchange for... favors."

"Well, you don't give me money but you buy me a ton of gifts. You bought me the dress I'm wearing right now. You do receive favors," you repeat with air quotes, "and you are older than me. By your own standards, you are a sugar daddy."

"I was born in 1997! I'm not even that much older than you!" Jaehyun laughs in shock.

"That is a whole other millennium Jaehyun, the year starts with nineteen," you reply with a gentle squeeze on the arm.

He pinches your side, "you're making me sound like some kind of cradle robber. The age difference isn't that much."

You look at him with a serious expression, "is this really bothering you? I meant it as a joke, but I can change it if it really bothers you."

"It just surprised me," he waves off, "but if you want to change it to something else be my guest. I've been thinking of a few options. First, love of my life, hottest man alive, baby, pretty boy. You know, I saw one of your friends has her situationship under best in bed."

You clasp a hand over his mouth, "You like going out with the girls too much. You listen too much for a man."

a/n: *whispers* hey, you’re getting fratboy jaehyun tomorrow. also pls feel free to send me his most frayboy-like pictures because I feel like I’ve used every single one on pinterest already

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #Jaehyun blurbs #jaehyun drabbles #jaehyun scenarios

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lingering-42-long · 1 year

Text

141 + extra Mother’s Day head cannons

A short little Head cannons for all of our favorite boys expressing their love to there girls who are mothers.

COD x Female Character

Warnings: none, fluff, adorable daddies.

Captain John Price

• he wakes you up with a kiss on the forehead and a coffee in hand.

• The little ones are still asleep and he just wants to spend time with the mother of his children.

• when your daughters and son decide that it’s time to get up, they are running around handing you flowers and cards and balloons with the words “Happy Mother’s Day” written on them.

• John is making you breakfast with the girls attempting to help and your son sitting on the counter coloring.

• every year he plans to take you out to a nice restaurant and you to go to watch a play at the local theater

• He gives you lots of kisses and tells you how amazing a mother you are.

• He gives you a spa treatment to use whenever you need and puts a crap ton of money on it as well as also giving you a Starbucks gift card with $100 on it knowing your coffee obsession.

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

• you’re a mother to be and about eight months pregnant with your first born son.

• because of the trauma Simon had to go through all those years ago he never really understood what Mother’s Day was and so didn’t think much of it when it was coming around.

• after hearing what some of his friends were doing for their wives he thought it would be best to do some thing for you in a similar fashion.

• he doesn’t necessarily want to go out and do anything too extravagant. He doesn’t see the need to.

• but he understands that you are carrying his child his first born, his son so he feels very obligated and very protective of you.

• he buys you your favorite flowers and does a huge amount of online shopping for things for you and for the baby.

• One might think that just because he has no clue about Mother’s Day that he would be a horrible gift giver when that is simply not true. Simon is trained to study all the little details in life and so he knows exactly what your favorite things are right down to the exact color shade and style.

• this man has read so many parent books he knows exactly what his child needs well before the due date and advise you whatever you could possibly need to make your pregnancy as smooth as possible.

• he will take you to your favorite place at the park where you two can have a quiet lunch together.

• it may not be much but it’s the thought that counts. He’s not a emotionally opened person but for you he is trying so hard to make sure that you know how much he loves and appreciates you.

Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish

• your son was the first one to wake you both up as he was screaming on the top of his lungs saying happy Mother’s Day.

• Johnny just laughs and gives you a kiss, wishing you also a happy Mother’s Day before getting jumped on by his son desperately trying to wake up his parents so he could have breakfast, and show you his artwork that he had been working on for you.

• he bought you a really pretty and expensive pair of earrings and matching necklace. Don’t ask him how much it was.

• Johnny asks his parents if they could watch his son for the day as he takes you out for a couples massage and goes thrift shopping with you.

• this is a fun hobby that you guys have and enjoy doing.

• sometime during dinner at a simple bistro that you guys like to go to, he whispers into your ear about growing the family.

• let’s just say baby number two is on its way

Sargent Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

• he is very new at being a father only having two months with his newborn daughter.

• like Simon, he doesn’t know what to do for you for Mother’s Day so he calls his mom for help.

• She suggests that he do some thing for you or give something to you to make her feel special.

• he decides that he would watch the baby for the day while you go get your hair done your fingernails done and get a massage as well as give you some money to go buy some clothes and to hang out with your girlfriends.

• he’s not the best cook so he decides to order takeout for you both at one of your favorite pizza restaurants.

• when you get back home he sets the table up real nicely and make sure to get you some really pretty flowers and your favorite chocolate from the store.

• he also orders your favorite wine.

• Once your baby girl has fallen asleep, you both decide to watch a cheesy Romcom.

• it’s really simple but it’s the perfect Mother’s Day gift you could ever ask for.

Commander Alejandro Vargas

• this man is already making you breakfast for the day. His two older children have gone to hang out at one of their friends places while the youngest, a three-year-old, was in her highchair eating breakfast.

• he brings the food to you as you’re just waking up.

• Like Johnny, he bought you a beautiful set of earrings and necklace that the kids helped picked out.

• he’s going to take you out to a really nice restaurant and later dancing so he make sure to get you a nice dress that he knows that you would like.

• he buys every single rose from every single flower shop in Las Almes

• giving you neck kisses from behind as you’re getting ready.

•Asked his single brother to watch the baby while the other kids are having a sleep over at their cousins house.

• he spent the whole night pampering you and telling you how much he loves you and thanking you for his children.

• Spent the rest of the night having spicy time on the couch and bedroom.

Sergeant Major Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

• because your two year-old son has a severe infection and is in the hospital, you both decide not to do some thing extravagant since most of your money is going towards taking care of the little one.

• with that being said, that doesn’t mean that he isn’t going to try for you.

• he is a simple man but he does what he can for you to make you happy.

• for some odd reason all of the roses in Las Almes are all sold out, so he buys a really nice mixed bouquet that he knows that you like.

• he also gives you a simple gift card to your favorite coffee shop with a cute card to go with it.

• you order takeout and have it delivered to the hospital, where you guys are at making sure that your son is ok.

• even though it’s not the Best Mother’s Day, you too are just happy to be together with your son.

König

• he always thinks really hard about what you would like for Mother’s Day.

• he’s not a social butterfly but he’ll make an exception for you. So if you want to go out to a restaurant he will do that for you.

• this man is just happy that he was able to find someone that loves him, and has given him two beautiful twin girls and one sweet boy.

• you too decide to do some thing super easy with the kids and take them to a park in his hometown in Austria.

• he looks like he’s on the verge of tears because of how happy you have made him.

• he gets overwhelmed easily with emotion.

• after going to the park he cooks you all a really good meal and the girls help him.

•After dinner, the both of you Play board games with the girls as your son is asleep in his bassinet.

• makes some hot chocolate for everyone.

• when the girls go to sleep, he pulls out a book that he wants to read with you.

• you two fall asleep in each others arms.

Alex Keller

• this dude is a Golden retriever when it comes to love. He gets so excited when he gets to spend Mother’s Day with you and his newborn son.

• since you just had the baby you’re still in the hospital, and he makes sure to take care of all your needs while you get pampered by him. He buys you a really cute t-shirt with the words ‘mamma bear’ on it.

• he gets you sushi from your favorite Japanese restaurant.

• plays card games with you and lets you win.

• watches TV with you in the hospital room while holding your hand and telling you how proud he is and he hopes to grow the family more in the future.

Philip Graves

• is a southern boy so his mama always taught him how to treat a lady.

• Think 1940s gentleman

• most people think he would have a son but he has a little girl instead.

• is a super proud daddy of his baby girl and even more proud of his wife.

• unfortunately for this Mother’s Day, he’s away with the shadow company in Mexico so he’s unable to spend Mother’s Day with you.

• he does send you a text letting you know how much he misses you and to have a amazing Mother’s Day.

• he sends you $1000 to go spend on whatever you want for your day since he knows that he won’t be able to splurge on you like he usually does.

• he cannot wait to get back home to you and his little girl.

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aftaylorglow · 6 months

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i want so badly for taylor swift to speak out against israel and the genocide this apartheid state is committing in palestine. im so proud of her and everything she has achieved this year, starting from the eras tour to her successful rerecords. it’s not a surprise she’s on top of many year-end most influential/best of the best lists.

but what then? what use is her ever-growing influence? it’s ridiculous to say but she’s the only one who has enough of a sway to make people actually pay attention to something. just look at how the voter registration in the US spiked again when she posted about it a few months ago. how the NFL had boosted views for the simple fact that she was attending the games. can you imagine how much the tides would change if she denounced israel’s atrocities? if she rallied for support for palestinians? the legions of swifties would actually listen and pay attention. because right now only a very small fraction of us care, truly care, about what’s happening. the rest are too busy fishing for a taylor nation notice.

yes, taylor swift cannot end wars. no, it’s not taylor swift’s job to make life better for an oppressed population. but she has the platform, the momentum, and the voice to bring all these issues to light.

this is not to mention how the apartheid state has been using her pictures, her lyrics, even the friendship bracelets to further their propaganda. did taylor not fervently oppose the n@zis who were calling her an aryan goddess a few years ago? even if this is all she does now, ask them not to use her for their propaganda, it would already do so much.

instead she’s silent. when her influence is needed the most, she’s not there.

the sad thing is, we all know she’ll live and thrive if she chooses to stay silent. hell, i have tickets to see her next year. she’ll continue to be successful and she will put out more albums and she’ll earn more money and she’ll be safe and happy. palestinians have none of any of this. some of them are dying under the rubble after their house is hit with b0mbs that israel is dropping as im typing this.

but if she uses her influence? if she puts pressure on the government, on joe biden whom she proudly endorsed, there’s a chance that she could tip the scales. and even if it doesn’t work, isn’t it better to have at least tried? even selfishly, will your conscience not feel lighter knowing you did something instead of nothing?

taylor, you have a ton of resources at your disposal. i hope you use them, and i hope you use your influence to help the palestinian people.

#taylor swift #time magazine #person of the year #swiftie #swifties for palestine #palestine #free palestine #swiftiesforpalestine

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ncis-nerd · 2 months

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But Daddy I Love Him

ship: older!natasha romanoff x younger!reader. wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff.

warnings: angst, no happy ending, mentions of cheating, older nat, jerk nat, younger reader, wanda is kinda a dick, age gap, arguing, being ignored.

a/n: happy ttpd day!!

"I'm done with being your second choice Natasha. Just because I am younger than you, it doesn't mean you can just go off with other women because you're scared to admit that they are what you are looking for. Someone older, more mature, someone you can relate to" Y/N exclaimed, her small frame against the older women's.

Her green eyes met y/n's gaze which only confirmed what y/n feared. "That's it? You aren't going to say anything?" Y/N spokes as she grabbed a suitcase from the closet.

"I'm so sick of Wanda! Don't think I didn't see all the ways she touched you. Her hands always on you whenever the two of you were together. I'll tell you this Natasha. I'd rather burn my whole life down, Than listen to one more second of all this bitchin' and moanin'" Y/N threw her arms up in protest and huffed.

"Where are you gonna go." Natasha spoke dismmisingly. She doesn't think you'll actually do it. You have no where to go, no one to go to. Her eyes watering at the slight chance that you may be serious.

✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

Natasha had an award dinner and she asked you last minute to come. It was odd she didn't ask you earlier in advance because they usually know about these things at least 6 months in advance with scheduling and whatnot. But you didn't think much of it. Because you didn't want to accept the alternative.

You came as her date but it sure didn't feel like it. You were the youngest there, all the avengers were at least 10 years ahead of you. It didn't help that your girlfriend left you to fend for yourself, your eyes stuck on her and Wanda. Natasha threw her head back, laughing. Wanda's hand on her shoulder. Their prolonging eye contact. The way they looked at each other. It gave you a bad feeling in your gut but you pushed it away.

No, I'm not coming to my senses. I know it's crazy. But he's the one I want.

You refused to accept it. She said she'd never let it come between you guys. That your age difference would never break you up. She lied. You rose up from the table but no one even noticed, everyone engrossed in their conversation. A stray tear fell from your glassy eyes.

You made your way to the bathroom. Attempting to keep your composure, they already think you're immature, you don't want them to see you as a baby on top on that.

You looked at yourself in the large glass window. You looked at your reflection. Your dress glistened in the light. The door swings open. It's Wanda. Of course she was the one who noticed you missing. Ironic isn't it.

"Y/N" she spoke, her voice filled with fake concern but a hint of guilt. You refused to meet her eyes, not willing to give her that sense of comfort. "Y/N, I'm not going to lie to you just because you're younger than us. I like Natasha. And honestly it feels like she is into me too. There's nothing I can say to make you feel better but I assure you I would never make a move on her while the two of you are together. I promise." Her eyes met yours in the mirror.

"I have money, I know you don't have anywhere to go but if you and Natasha should split, please call me. I don't want to on your own, fending for yourself. I can help you get an apartment or something." Wanda offered.

I just learned these people try and save you'. Cause they hate you

Of course, of course she wants to "take care of you". Because you're the little fragile thing who can't handle heartbreak. She just wants to make a move on Natasha, this is a ton of bullshit. You press your nails into your hand. You smile politely and say a simple thank you. Not wanting to cause a scene and give Natasha more of a reason to leave you.

✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

Thinking it can change the beat of my heart when he touches me. And counteract the chemistry. And undo the destiny.

Her hand reaches for my shoulder, to stop me from leaving. "That won't work anymore, Natasha. I'm calling Wanda. She offered to help me get an apartment." You spewed out, reaching for the door. It hurt. You no longer called her Natty, the sweet nickname you had gave her when your relationship was in an earlier stage. A simpler stage where you didn't have to question if she wanted to be with you.

You slammed the door behind you, goodbye Natasha.

✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

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genericpuff · 1 month

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Webtoon Canvas is pay-to-win now, I guess.

DISCLAIMER: All of the series I show here is for the sake of comparing statistics and criticizing Webtoons' Super Likes system. I have nothing personal against these series or their creators and I do not want anyone to get the impression that I am encouraging any sort of action against these creators. The following rant is merely my own observations and opinions concerning Webtoons itself as a platform.

I found out today that Webtoon has implemented a Super Likes ranking board.

This does exactly what it sounds like - it ranks Canvas series based on how many Super Likes they have. Whether or not this ranking board is on a weekly rotation (like the Originals rankings) or just overall, I don't know, but something immediately felt off with this system and it took very little time at all to realize what was really going on here.

When you actually click on the series listed here, it'll tell you how many Super Likes they've accrued overall. The first thing that made me raise an eyebrow was the fact that the Super Likes listed in the ranking boards isn't the same as what's listed in the comics' landing pages, but I chalked that up to a simple delay on WT's end as I can assume the ranking board doesn't refresh at pace with whatever Super Likes are coming in.

But the real red flag was this:

Limitless : Untold is a series with 1,657 followers and seems to get an average of 35-45 likes per episode.

But it somehow has 1,715 Super Likes?

Anyone who's run a Patreon, Ko-Fi, Ad Revenue, or any other sort of revenue-based system with their content will probably realize how that doesn't add up. The reality is that regardless of how many readers / followers you have, only a small fraction of them will actually spend money on your work or to support you. Not every person reading an Originals series is FastPassing. Not every person reading a webcomic is supporting the creator on Patreon. This ratio is even apparent outside of income-based statistics - for example, not every person who follows will read new updates each week and hit the like button (which is why you can have a comic with 1700 followers that only gets a few hundred views and a handful of likes per update). This ratio can be influenced by all sorts of different things, but one thing that doesn't typically happen is for the ratio to flip itself in this fashion.

To put it bluntly: how can a comic with a high of 45 likes in the past 3 months possibly accrue 1,715 Super Likes since it was launched just last week? You've probably already come to the conclusion on your own, but for those who haven't: there's very strong evidence to suggest that creators are buying their own Super Likes to get on this ranking board.

That's assuming the worst of this, though - after all, maybe some of these creators just have super supportive friends who are tossing them a ton of Super Likes? It costs $1 for 5 of them, in this example the amount of Super Likes comes out to approximately $343 (assuming my math is right lmao) which isn't massive amounts of money but it's, again, still really impressive for a comic with only 40 likes on average.

Bu Limitless : Untold isn't the only one in the rankings board that's like this. In fact, the top three spots are occupied by webtoons with the same tilted ratio.

But then, suddenly, after those top three positions, the following webtoons Super Likes totals that make a LOT more sense and reflect the usual ratio more accurately:

The Little Trashmaid, one of the most popular Canvas webtoons of all time and the first one to hit the 1 million subscriber mark in the Canvas section has only accrued 355 Super Likes so far... and you seriously want me to believe a comic like Limitless : Untold with only 0.08% of its readership is somehow genuinely earning five times the amount of Super Likes?

I want to make it clear yet again that I have nothing against the series that have managed to break the system in their own favor. None of this is meant to "slam" them or judge their work or anything of the sort, I'm simply comparing the numbers here and coming to a very reasonable conclusion as someone who's well aware of how ratios like this tend to work in webcomics and content creation. It's just not feasible for the top three comics in the Super Likes ranking boards to organically earn that many Super Likes relative to the sizes of their audiences, especially when compared to the bigger comics that are only pulling in a fraction of that amount. The ratios of Super Likes : actual likes for those bigger comics actually looks reasonable and expected, the ratios for the smaller comics that are sitting at the top are not.

If anything, Webtoons has created a broken system and these creators are simply using that system to their advantage. And I'm not necessarily going to fault them for that because I can get wanting to do whatever it takes to get eyes on your work.

But it does raise the question of what kind of system Webtoons has cultivated here - a system where creators are resorting to Super Liking their own episodes to bump themselves up in the leaderboards.

And before anyone asks me how I can be so sure that these creators are Super Liking their own works - I literally opted into the Super Likes system myself and proceeded to Super Like one of my own episodes.

(this is like the one helpful thing with my work still being on WT even though I'm not updating there anymore, it lets me test shit like this LOL)

So yes, this is a thing that creators can do and it would certainly explain the massive discrepancy in the ratio of Super Likes : regular likes for these smaller series.

This is literally pay-to-win. And who do we have to blame for this? Webtoons, full stop. Not only for implementing a ranking board for an optional monetization service while still allowing creators to use that monetization system to support themselves as a way to climb up that ranking board, but for creating this gross psychological dependency on the platform as the "only way" to build an audience, to the point that people are now paying Webtoons out of their own pocket just to have their thumbnail visible in a ranking board and maybe get some extra views (and 49% of their money back if they hit that $100 threshold). And on top of all that, further putting on the pressure of competition and 'exclusivity' among many budding creators who are doing what they do for free and for fun. Why are creators now being forced to compete in a metric that's solely determined by how much expendable income their own audience has?

Sure, at least this means creators can get themselves into a ranking board by their own power unlike the other categories that are hand-picked by Webtoons and / or determined by daily stats, but at what cost? The literal financial hit of paying for advertising with extra steps, and the ethical dilemma of essentially paying for potential views with microtransactions. This is no better than paying bots on Instagram to follow your profile and inflate your worth to those who aren't following you. None of it is real, it will not legitimize your work to throw money at Webtoons just to have your thumbnail visible in a ranking board. These are microtransactions meant to benefit Webtoons, not you, the creator.

#if you really wanna spend money on advertising just use comicad network or top webcomic #they both offer super reasonable rates with space bidding that gets you actual targeted advertising with control over how your ads look #instead of this stupid ass microtransaction gambling that people are doing to get their thumbnail listed in a leaderboard rotation #this is so fucking predatory #fuck webtoons #webtoon critical

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prismatic-bell · 2 months

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I’ve been thinking about something at my job—not difficult, honestly, my job leaves lots of thinking time—and I have something I want to share with the folks who object to the label “culturally Christian.” I hope it may help you make more sense of the label and, perhaps, not be so angry about it, if you’ll indulge me for just two minutes.

I was born as a white gentile. While I later found out this wasn’t entirely true—I have Jewish ancestry and there is a small-but-non-zero chance I’m partly Black through my great-grandmother, which is a story too long to get into here—I am, for all visual intents and purposes, white, and count myself as such.

And the first time I heard myself included in the phrase “white supremacy,” I WAS SO FUCKING UNCOMFORTABLE. Couldn’t we call it anything else? Why are you including me in this? I didn’t ask to be born white. I don’t run around in a pointy hood burning crosses. I’m not even racist. Black people can do anything white people can do! I am NOT a white supremacist!

….except. I kinda am. And it is not a choice I made, it is a choice that was made for me 400 and 160 and 120 and 80 and 50 and 35 years ago. Slavery and deliberately-botched emancipation and “separate but equal” and killing of Black leaders and the simple fact both my parents were white. Textbooks that hold up Eli Whitney as a hero and promote the lie of The Great Empty Wilderness and never ask us to wrestle with what it means when the majority of a population is counted as only three-fifths of a human being. Redlining and even the fucking freeway system—I didn’t design any of this, but I live in the world where it exists.

G-d willing, I will not be a white supremacist until the day I die: G-d willing, the systems we are struggling against will have been replaced with better, kinder, more equitable systems. But I don’t get to opt out by saying “I’m not racist!” Yes, I’ve put in a ton of work to unlearn harmful racist behaviors and attitudes. But as long as a Black woman in my position with my experience makes less money than me, I’m benefiting from white supremacy. As long as I get the job, the car, the loan, the opportunity because someone else had locs and I “looked professional,” I’m benefiting from white supremacy. And yes—as long as people aren’t deliberately stupid about my name because they associate it with white cultures, I’m benefiting from white supremacy. The fact I’m white is morally neutral. What I choose to do with that fact is what matters.

And so: we come back to cultural Christianity.

The law of probability says if you’re on this site, you’re probably from a culture with a Christian hegemony. That’s going to cover the Americas, Europe, and to a lesser extent, portions of central and south Africa (both the creatively-named country and the continent). Even if your country mostly considers itself secular, if your answer to “what year is it” is automatically “2024” without having to ask “on which calendar,” you’re probably from a country with a Christian background.

THIS IS A MORALLY NEUTRAL THING. You do not choose which country you’re born in or what its centuries-old culture is. And that’s fine! And it doesn’t mean anything about your personal beliefs. You can be an atheist born to atheists, you can be Buddhist, it is literally whatever.

BUT, to an extent, the place you grew up will absolutely have an impact on your thoughts and morals, because it’s all you’ve ever known. Because the choice to be culturally Christian is not one you made—it was made for you 2000 and 1800 and 1700 and 1200 and 1000 and 800 and 400 and 200 and 50 years ago. Taboos, laws, unspoken rules you’ve never thought twice about, this is not stuff you pick. It’s baked into the world around you. And if you want to unlearn that, you can’t just say “well I’m not Christian so I don’t have Christian morals or values!” and leave it at that. It’d be a beautiful thing if we could, but that’s not the way brains work.

Which means—even if you’re satisfied with what you believe—you should ASK YOURSELF why you believe it, and HOW. One of the biggest things I hear mentioned by other Jews in relation to cultural Christianity is people being black-and-white absolutists. This is true, so that is a lie. That is wrong, so this is right. There is no space given to the idea that maybe everyone is telling the truth as they see it, or that something is right for some times/people/places but wrong for others. And this gets into the harmful territory of “it’s true so I believe it and because I believe it, it’s true.”

So ask yourself why. Start deconstructing your beliefs and learning about new things—and yes, make world religions part of those new things, because religions are major cultural shapers, and also you’d be stunned how many of us 1) do not proselytize and 2) encourage actual study and questioning over blind faith and obedience (hint: it’s most of us. These two things that are taken as universal constants by a lot of atheists ARE EXPLICITLY CHRISTIAN), and there is no harm in learning about our cultures. (You know who’d say there is? Say it with me, kids: evangelical Christians.)

I’m still uncomfortable with being referred to in the context of white supremacy. But part of unlearning racism and, yes, white supremacy, was learning to recognize that is not a discussion I get to steer, because it’s not about me. It’s about people of color explaining, quantifying, and discussing their experiences. So I will be uncomfortable if need be, because that’s a me problem, for me to work on. That is part of what being a good ally and a good neighbor means.

Please give Jews that same grace. Yes, it can be uncomfortable to realize that yeah, you WERE affected by this thing you want to separate yourself from, especially if you have religious trauma. (Side note: if you do, I genuinely and strongly encourage you to seek therapy for it. As an evangelical cult escapee I can tell you it’s helped me a lot.) But you owe it to yourself, and if you genuinely want to dismantle that hegemony, you also owe it to others. While you’re yelling about how you don’t like the words we have created to describe our experiences, we’re working to fix the hegemony you claim to hate.

So: stop focusing on the word. Your discomfort with it is a you problem. Focus on WHAT IT’S TALKING ABOUT, because truly coming to a level playing ground and rebuilding will require you to have allies—not burned bridges all around.

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