#but this had to be done so that issue is put to the side for a while

[lucinfernos]

CONTENT CREATOR ARCANE AU INTRODUCTIONS ⭐

finally put together this handy dandy info sheet for your ease of access!

Jayce a.k.a. ManOfProgress (benevolently referred to as MOP by his fans) — 31 years old, he/him, bisexual trans man, Mexican-Brazilian — Started content creation in 2020 as a hobby to battle the pandemic boredom but blew up and decided to make it his full-time gig — Streams games and goofballery on Twitch [623k followers] and posts & streams more personal and unrelated content on YouTube [102k subscribers] — Found Viktor’s channel ~6 months before they started talking and feels very comforted by his voice; sleeps to his videos every night and puts one on whenever he’s anxious or angry — Got into a bad car accident as a child that was fatal to his father and left him with chronic pain on his left leg; now wears a knee brace and a calf compress periodically

Viktor a.k.a. TheMachineHerald — 32 years old, he/him, gay trans man, Czech-Polish — Was unable to leave the house during the peak of the pandemic and found joy and inspiration from Jayce’s content, and chose to start dabbling in content creation in 2022 — Creates very technically advanced and meticulously crafted ASMR videos; usually fully focuses on the mechanical sounds and tech aesthetic but lately has been brancing out more [12,3k subscribers before he gets in kahoots with Jayce] — Started showing his face only around the time when Jayce started watching him and is a bit irritated over the boost in popularity it granted him — Has many health problems, including scoliosis and rheumatoid arthritis (which has caused lung scarring and severe cartilage damage to his right leg and spine from when he was younger and could not access the necessary care to get the inflammation in control)

Mel a.k.a. Melicious (to this day her fans argue whether this is a reference to delicious or malicious) — 33 years old, she/her, bisexual; Jayce’s ex-girlfriend, African-American w/ Algerian roots — Was with Jayce during her time in Piltover but they made the mutual decision to part ways when she was accepted into an art school in London; are still close friends — Made very high-quality weekly diary-style vlogs, often related to art [837k subscribers]. Went on a semi-hiatus after moving but is active on other social medias like Instagram [1,4 million followers]

Jinx a.k.a. GETJINXED — 19 years old, she/they, agender aroace; in a queerplatonic relationship with Ekko, American — Gained popularity on TikTok and later on Twitch when people realized she’s the sister Vi is always complaining about; has no niche and does literally anything she wants to do that day, which usually has to do with either art or engineering [166k followers on Twitch, 850k on TikTok] — Working on an independent music career on the side with their debut single Get Jinxed going viral on TikTok — Lost her finger ON STREAM when working on an art installation, the clip has millions of views

Ekko a.k.a. The_Boy_Savior — 20 years old, he/any, probably nonbinary but he has a job so he doesn’t care abt that rn, bi & asexual; in a queerplatonic relationship with Jinx, African-American — Creates well-researched and thought-provoking video essays about worldwide issues, especially dedicated to the health of the planet and its people [317k subscribers] — Surprised everyone by appearing in one of Jinx’s tiktoks because nobody knew they knew each other let alone that they were in a QPR — Frequently holds fundraisers and has done a lot of good for his community

Caitlyn a.k.a. KillshotKiramman — 23 years old, she/her, lesbian; Vi’s girlfriend and Jayce’s best friend, Chinese-British — Makes videos about weapons (mostly guns and shooting) [176k subscribers] and plays games on her Twitch [29k followers] — Moderates Jayce and Vi’s streams, and completely destroys both of them at FPS games — Had a gun misfiring accident which left her blind in her left eye

Violet a.k.a. vistandsforvideogames — 24 years old, any pronouns, gender-apathetic (call her whatever you like) lesbian; Caitlyn’s partner, American — Gamer on Twitch, but also shares about her side job as a boxer [212k followers] — Sometimes mods for Jayce but mainly just shows up to kick his ass in Mortal Kombat and exude chaotic energy

[raerae2727]

Shopping with different OP characters!!

GN! reader, established relationship

warnings: stealing, doflamingo is an ASSHOLE

Includes: Crocodile, Nami, Doflamingo, Law, Kidd

My materialistic side really shows here💀

~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~ ~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~

Crocodile

You had been begging Crocodile to take a break and go out with you all day. He really wanted to get work done, but just to shut you up, he finally agreed. You get all dressed up for a luxurious private dinner and afterwards the two of you take a walk through the city for some shopping, which is always fun with Crocodile’s bottomless wallet. As you’re walking, cozy underneath his big coat, a beautiful top catches your eye. You run up to the store window in awe of the striking piece that looks like it was made just for you.

“Wow, look at this one…” you say, trying to avoid flat out asking for it. You give him your best puppy dog eyes, fluttering your lashes as you blink innocently.

He knows what you want and responds, “you have a strange taste in fashion, but I’ll tell you what,” he chuckles and pulls out his wallet, “I’ll buy it for you if you let me choose something I want to see you in.”

You feign surprise, widening your eyes as you answer, “Really?” He laughs and pats your back, leading you inside the store.

Nami

Nami always ends up spending too much Beri when she goes shopping, and it’s even worse when she’s with you because she just can’t say no. So when the crew docks at a new island, the two of you agree not to spend any money on new clothes. Of course, a high end boutique catches your eye and you give Nami a mischievous glance, communicating you were gonna go in whether she wanted you to or not.

“I only want to try stuff on, I swear!” You exclaim over your shoulder.

“Fine, but don’t even try to convince me to pay for anything!” Your girlfriend tries to act annoyed, but her wide grin reveals her entertainment at your antics. Every time you show interest in something, Nami takes it into the dressing room next to you. You thought it was weird because the two of you have fairly different tastes. When you eventually leave the boutique, She pulls you close and opens her purse with a giggle to reveal all the clothes she had shoplifted for you. “See babe, I told you I wouldn’t pay for anything!”

Doflamingo

It’s a lazy Sunday morning for you and the King, lounging in bed with silk robes and the finest quality coffee. You’re flipping through a magazine while he reads some book about war strategy. “Doffy, what do you think about this one?” You ask. You don’t even have to consider money, Doflamingo can afford anything.

“Hmm…” he thinks for a minute, “I don’t think that’s your color.” You sigh. He always has to control everything. “What about this?” He points out something much more pink and extravagant.

“Why does everything always have to go your way?” You whine, fed up with his ego.

“You need to look good next to me,” he states firmly, putting an arm around your shoulder. “I have a reputation to uphold. Are you seriously not willing to sacrifice your fashion taste in exchange for everything else I give you?” The last thing you want is a fight, so you just rest your head on his chest as he calls in an attendant to order his picks for you.

Law

You had managed to drag Law to the mall with you, promising to go to the pawn shop with him afterwards to look for rare commemorative coins for his collection. When you see the cutest, chubbiest seal plushie ever, you know you have to have it. The only issue is that you have no money. Holding it behind your back, you turn to your boyfriend. “Law,” You begin your pitch, trying to look as cute and convincing as possible. “You really, really love me, right?” You tease.

“Of course I love you,” he answers, “but what are you scheming?”

You reveal the plushie to him and squeeze its cheeks. “I need this.”

He tries to hide his amused smile from you - you look so cute when you’re happy and he suddenly has the best worst idea ever.

“No, you don’t need it. You want it.” He takes the plushie from you. “Maybe another time, sorry babe.”

After a long day with your boyfriend, you had forgotten all about the seal plushie. The two of you arrive home and when he shuts the door he turns to you with a wide grin.

“What’s that look for?” You question playfully. He reaches into the shopping bag you made him carry and pulls out the chubby seal. You grab it from his hand and give him a lighthearted slap to the arm. “Law! You liar!”

Kidd

“Kidd, look at this!” You call to him while adjusting a choker around your neck. “Should I buy it?” You immediately regret showing him when a mischievous gleam lights up his eyes.

“Buy it?” Kidd taunts, reaching over to fasten the choker for you before grabbing several more. You’re frozen in place as he decks you out in accessories.

“What are you doing?” You question, “We can’t afford this!”

“You look cool!” He ruffles your hair and grins before whispering, “Now leave quick while I’m distracting the cashier.”

“Are you crazy?!” You whisper-yell. (Even though you already know the answer is yes.)

A shopkeeper interrupts your bickering, making you jump. “No playing dress-up in the store! Either pay or leave!” He scolds.

“Okay, bye then!” Kidd says to the shopkeeper before effortlessly throwing you over his shoulder and disappearing out the door.

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Thanks for reading!! Sorry for the doffy part

[fl0ralsxgar]

Okay... So im going to make one post about this and one post only.

Ive been having issues in this community because of who i self ship with, thats a very vague way of putting it. Ive been made aware of a situation directly that has both equally caused me to get hate and ive noticed some mutuals of mine ignoring me more ever since it started. Under the cut since this is a long post

Okay just to start off first; clearly this must be a burner or something because going to this account directly, its the default tumblr blog theme with no posts or edited bio or anything. Im not going to respond to hate asks anymore, okay? I shouldnt in the first place but usually i tried to address them just a little, mostly wanting to understand why i was being sent it in the first place, my fault. But still. (I still blocked out the user just in case) just to note, this is not the only hate ive been sent in asks lately. I had to cut anon off again. But ig people will still find workarounds.

Okay. I DO NOT. want to cause ANY discomfort, jealousy, negative feelings, etc, just because of who i self ship with. Im sorry its made people uncomfortable because they share the same f/o but i do what i can to ensure they dont see me. I use the same exact tag on my self ship art and gushes and whatever, i dont interact with them, i have them BLOCKED or vice versa, hell i even try to not interact with their mutuals unless if weve already established being mutuals. I even have directly said- if anyone who follows me is mutuals with someone else who is uncomfortable with people interacting with me (or other daisuke self shippers in general) then you dont need to interact with me, because above all else im TRYING to consider the comfort of other people. I have never once tried to make people forcibly side with me, i have never said anyone else is invalid because of their self ship, i have never wanted anyone to be excluded and even, i encourage people to be mutuals with other daisuke self shippers as i can block said daisuke self shippers and they can be given my tag if need be because everyone deserves support. This has been going on for longer than it needs to tbh, i kept thinking i was the issue, i wanted to leave, but now im just .. upset. Whether its all from the same person or not, idk. But please know that above all else causing anyone to feel negatively because of me has never been my intention. Ive been extremely stressed out over this, feeling guilty and horrible, and sometimes aggravated.

Dont vague post about me if you know your followers and mutuals know who youre referring to. And even then, dont do it without first explicitly making it known that you dont condone hate being sent, but ultimately even if you do say that it wont always stop people. Please stop sending me asks trying to invalidate my self ship when ive never done that to anyone else. If youre mutuals with someone who is not okay with you interacting with me then respect those boundaries, because i am super tired of having to deal with the backlash of things im not even trying to cause. I want everyone to be comfortable, i want everyone to feel safe in their own space. But also i dont even feel comfortable in my own space now. I really dont wanna leave the community again tbh, ive made some close mutuals, i love supporting people, i love making my own self ship art and sharing it. But man, im tired!

Ive tried SO hard to keep this in private. I wanted it to be resolved without public notice. But even after i thought it was settled and resolved it hasnt stopped, and i dont even know if its from various people or not. Only very few people know more deeply whats been going on, and i hate that they were affected because of it too in ways. Whatever is going, just, i want it to chill out. Really. I have no ill will for anyone. If you see this and youre someone who has an issue with me you can dm me, ill talk it out with you.

I truly hope none of this comes off wrong, or aggressive or anything. I mean everything with as much respect as i can considering my current state. No matter what i dont condone harassment. I dont want anyone to be excluded. I want everyone to be supported and happy in their space. So please just know that, and if anything has come off wrong let me know. Maybe, im just not thinking the clearest so some things might seem rude or something. Forgive me if that the case.

Theres been ALOT going on the self ship community and i hope everyone will be okay. Dont worry about this if its too stressful, but if youre someone whose involved in this, i want to work things out. So. Thanks for reading if you did. Take care

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

Okay, so if you've been anywhere online recently, you may have come across Elon Musk bringing up the issue of grooming gangs that happened over a decade ago in the UK.

And as you can guess, it's a lot of misinformation, and I partly wanted to fact check it in a post out of anger but the other part didn't want to give the "Musk Manufactured News Agenda" oxygen.

However, I just came out of an online town hall on Zeteo (I'd really recommend subscribing to them) with Medhi Hasan and Nazir Afzal - who led the prosecutions for the grooming gangs and continues prosecuting people for this to this day - and I made some notes and I might as well share them:

For all Elon, his ilk and now the Tories calls for a national inquiry on this, we've already had one and several local enquiries as well. The inquiry done for Rotherham was completed in 2013, and the inquiry done on child sex abuse nationwide was completed in 2022.

Not only were the Tories in power when those inquiries were completed, the Tories also decided to implement none of the recommendations made in these reports.

Liz Truss is sat on Twitter talking about how shameful it is that the government are not doing anything, but that second report was completed before she lost to the lettuce.

Boris Johnson called these inquiries a waste of money.

Afzal gave evidence 14 years ago to the government and asked for research to be completed on why men in Muslim and/or Pakistani communities were committing these crimes and no research was completed.

As is, however, 88% of sex offending is committed by white men according to Afzal.

Also, data about ethnicities has not been consistently collected by police. This is once again something Afzal made recommendations on 10 years ago that has not been implemented.

Overall, we've had inquiries on this and the Tories did nothing with the results of them.

Neither Afzal nor David Greenwood (the solicitor for many of the victims) believe another inquiry is needed. They feel it is time to act on the past inquiries.

Hasan did ask Afzal about David Greenwood reporting seeing evidence of police collusion with the grooming gangs. Though Afzal didn't confirm that and rather blamed the failings on incompetence, he did say that if any inquiry is needed, it would be a police inquiry to investigate these claims.

On another note, Keir Starmer did not block prosecution of Jimmy Savile. Alison Levitt's 2013 report exonerates him.

Further, Afzal talked about how he and Keir Starmer had to change policy when it came to CSA and implemented many changes.

Afzal made it very clear that Keir Starmer has not done any of the things he's been accused of, especially not some kind of collusion with the gangs.

Afzal himself has had the same accusations levelled at him. About a decade ago, his home was attacked by the far right who believed him being a British-Pakistani Muslim on the side of prosecution meant that he was there to protect the perpetrators. It was only safe for his children to go to school in taxis.

At one point, Afzal said something along the lines of "These people are as far from Islam as you can imagine." in regards to the perpetrators.

The idea that this was brown men targeting white girls was put to bed by Afzal and Hasan during it. While brown girls are 3 times less likely to come forward, there were many brown victims.

Also talking about coming forward, in speaking with victims, Afzal found that many of the victims were not believed due to classism. Working class girls were routinely not believed by police or local prosecutors.

Elon has spoke a lot recently about Tommy Robinson, aka Stephen Christopher Yaxley-Lennon, and how he should be freed. Jordan Peterson called him a political prisoner and Elon's father compared him to Nelson Mandela. Afzal rightfully pointed out that Stephen nearly ruined two different trials for this with his antics that were considered jury intimidation. The only person who benefited from Stephen's action was him and his bottom line.

Afzal spoke a lot about the victims and how no one is speaking about them or caring about them. He mentioned how focussing on the race of the perpetrators only undermines the victims. I think it's a very important point.

Further, Afzal has spent a lot of this week speaking to the victims of these grooming gangs who have been finding themselves triggered by Elon's antics. Many of them feel like the recovery they've made so far has been pulled out from under them. These people have PTSD and Elon has triggered them as he acts with callous disregard.

TL/DR: We've had national inquiries on this topic and it's the Tories who have decided not to act on them, we do not need more and what Elon is doing is hurting the victims of the crimes he claims to care about.

[thetadispatcher]

Dan glanced at Rook then back to Willow, he hadn't planned on acknowledging the comment, which was clearly the right choice based on Willow's reaction to it.

"Truly, I feel Peter's habit of personifying things is why the way I was treated wasn't questioned much." Anyone who knew Peter wouldn't feel inclined to question why an android was being treated like a human, seeing as Peter had a history of treating other non-human things in a similar manner that he occasionally expected those around him to do the same. Most were glad to see he was no longer talking to inanimate objects, and had moved on to something that could at least respond and looked human.

The PL600 knew better then to comment on the other android's reaction to the suggestion of calling Johan's android by an acronym, it would lead to the possibility of him being questioned on just what he'd learned. That was something he wanted to avoid, the other androids didn't need to know what had become of the world Peter's older counterpart had come from, and just what that version of Johan had done to it. It would likely lead to the issue with the unstable man worsening if the others knew just how far he could go if he was given any sort of power.

"I understand that well, sometimes I wish mine knew how to stay put. I'd take him to his room, but I know he'll just end up back down here quickly." Dan rolled his eyes, Peter's inability to stay put had yet to improve and his current state would definitely affect that. So carrying him was the best solution, Peter wouldn't be at risk of falling and hurting himself that way.

Dan carefully started taking the crates apart as Sixty and Daniel finished setting the computers up, gathering up the dismantled wooden sides in his hand. He handed it to Daniel, who nearly fell over from the weight, as he'd forgotten Dan made thing look much lighter then they actually where. Soon the two PL600s had the area cleaned up, allowing Brent an easier path in and out of the room to fetch parts as they were finished.

"Happiness now doesn't mean it has to last, that's what beauty comes from, dude." Dan turned his attention to Peter as the younger man started talking. "Flowers are beautiful because they wither, if they stayed like that forever they wouldn't be beautiful. That's the frag-frag-fragility-of the mortality of life is what makes things beautiful. You don't know shit." Dan chuckled a bit as he listened to Peter ramble.

"What are you talking about?" He asked as Peter turned his head to look at Vincent. "Oh, look, it's the purples." He promptly broke out into a fit of laughter. "You really are high out of your gourd, aren't you?" Dan shook his head as Peter kept giggling, clearly amused by his own comment. "Well, at least you're in a good mood."

If the bear was content with no treats, Rook was fine with simply shoving her face in her fur. "Would be funny if you could install a mini fridge."

"Please, ignore that." Willow cut in, "I must say that gesture was quite precious and it certainly justifies why that excuse would be so effective."

Or why nobody had bothered sending Peter to bed so far. They had provided instructions for the custom androids, the androids present could handle the task efficiently. Apparently, the resident human was simply too endearing to be dismissed.

While Dan seemed to find some use in Bishop's suggestion, the other was by far not a fan of the implications, or the tone of his organic counterpart. The lack of a LED didn't hinder his ability to show his distate for the suggested name. "That's merely an acronym."

Bishop simply raised an eyebrow "Does it really matter?"

The android glared at him.

"I understand the feeling." Willow replied, "My favorite human doesn't show the greatest self preservation instinct either. Training is a slow process."

[storiesfromafan]

When He's Gone

A/N: first night of house sitting and doggo watching, which means I could finish part two to this. But I am going to make this a 3 parter, as it just felt right to end it where i did 😅

I will also have a poll at the end of this part, feel free to vote.

Warning/s: angst, sadness, maybe you'll cry, possible spelling/grammer mistakes, briefly revised

Tag list: @charmingballoon @strayrockette

Word got back to you, a few days after that night, that Benny had taken off that night. Betty had told you over coffee how Benny had stormed back into the bar, dark mood hanging over him. She said how Johnny had been the one to approach him at the bar – chugging down a beer as Johnny reached his side.

“Ya alright kid?” Johnny asked, concern written on his face.

Finally removing the bottle from his lips, and practically slamming it on the bar, Benny looked at the wall across from him. His face set in a hard scowl. “She ended it...and I gave it to her".

Johnny – looking to Cal, who’d stepped up to Benny's other side – had a confused yet worried look upon his face. Not sure what Benny meant. “Ah, ya gave it to her?” He questioned wanting clarification.

The man at focus nodded his head. “Yeah. She wanted it to be over, so I gave it to her...told her we were over then...”

Both Johnny and Cal sighed, though they knew Benny would never lay a hand on a woman. But his current mood, and words, gave a different opinion. Placing his hand on his shoulder, Johnny stared at Benny's face. Waiting for the man to look to him. And after downing the last of his beer he finally looked to the older Vandal.

“What happened?” Johnny asked calmly, needing the whole story.

So Benny told him what happened. How you took off out of the bar, how he followed you and called out what was wrong. You declaring you were done. Standing in the middle of the road airing out your issues at the hand of the women hanging around the bar, and him. He told you everything you’d said or done wrong, yet never mentioned or admitted to his involvement. How he shut down or let that voice in his head win. Benny would never voice how he was half to blame, never taking ownership of his part that played in your breakup.

“Sounds like she had a good reason to be mad" stated Johnny, gaze hard and righteous.

Benny turned to look at the empty beer bottle, knowing the man was right, that you were right. Yet Benny couldn’t admit it. If he did, he would have to agree with a lot you said. Such as how he put the club and his bike over you. Even though he tried to keep it all balanced.

“What do you love more; her or ya bike?” The older Vandal asked.

Benny kept his gaze on the bottle, mind thinking over the question. And yet he couldn’t answer it. How could he pick which one he loved more? Both were different in their own way, but both brought him such joy and happiness. Sure, his bike couldn’t mouth off to him but would play up. While you, you were full of opinions and ideas, but also cared for him like no one else ever had.

When Cal spoke up, along with a few others, saying how stupid it was to flip out and breakup because you’d said it. How walking away from that fine ass – which was meant to be a light hearted jest – was the biggest mistake. Or how you’d find another man quick smart. It all triggered something in Benny, anger and hurt.

Without a word, he shrugged off Johnny's hand before heading for the front door. He could hear Johnny going off at the men that spoke. But Benny didn’t care. He’d gotten some harsh criticism and truths. He was done. He needed to get away, clear his head and hopefully his heart. Which was aching. Getting on his bike, Benny didn’t waste time starting up the engine and  pulling away from the curb, riding through town and off into the night, and wherever the road would take him.

You sat back in your seat at the small kitchen table, lit cigarette in hand which was resting on the table top. Betty sat across from you, watching you closely to gauge your reaction to the story she just told you. Lifting your hand you took the last drag of the cigarette, holding it for as long as you could before releasing the smoke. You then stubbed it out in the ashtray.

“I see...” was all you could say.

You weren’t surprised he’d taken off. It’s what he did best. Running from his problems rather than working through them. It’s like putting a band aid on a broken arm. Him running away just showed how immature, or scared, Benny was. Eventually he’ll blow back into town and act like nothing happened. And that’s fine. He could do that. You don’t care, you won’t be sitting around waiting for him. If he will even come crawling back to you.

“Well it’s going to be quiet around Grand and Division for a while then" you stated, like it was fact.

Betty looked concerned, “you ain’t worried about him?”

You sighed. “Sure, I’ll always worry about him...but he made his choice. He gave up. And sure, I instigated the breakup...but he put the final nail in the coffin, so to say".

She nodded, moving to take another sip of her coffee.

“Once he’s mind is made up, that’s it...” you muttered. “So I won’t mope around. It’s not worth it...”

You left it at that. No more to say on the matter that is Benny Cross. That chapter of your life had come to an end. The next, new chapter was all about you and whatever you do with yourself. Time to pick yourself up and dust yourself off. But there were times you would find yourself crying, mainly at night, over him. Even though you didn’t want to, nor did he deserve your tears. During the day and around people, you put on a strong front, that you almost believed.

The first month of Benny’s absence was hard. You noted it as the withdrawal stage. Missing and wanting him because he wasn’t there. Various Vandal's came to check in on you, though you felt more like they were sniffing around. Trying to find out if Benny had reached out to you, but mainly testing the waters for themselves. See if you were desperate that you’d give them the time of day. And they were mistaken, you’d never go for another Vandal.

At the end of the first month Johnny paid you a visit. He was checking in on you, making sure you were doing alright and if you needed anything. You were nice – even if you shouldn’t be – Johnny wasn’t the one to do all this, it was Benny. You got him a beer, while you had tea, and sat at your kitchen table, which reminded you of when Betty had been there. Both of them were a like, and it warmed your broken heart.

Eventually he dropped the bomb he’d had word on Benny, he was fine and just moving around. It was a relief for you, hearing your ex was alive. The older man told you Benny would be back in time, and it would all work out. But would it? Did you want that?

“I don’t think I want it to work out...I can’t keep doing this, Johnny" you admitted looking him in the eyes. “I can’t be the back-up...”

Johnny tried to reason with you, but you’d made your mind up. Once he had finished his beer, and this conversation wasn’t going his way, he said he had to get going. Politely you walked him to the front door, even watching and waving as he rode off on his bike. That was that. You’d finally put your foot down. And Johnny knew that.

The second month since Benny left, you finally felt more yourself, freer even. You had been focusing on work at the diner. Still getting those passing through town that would flirt with you, and you’d continue to turn them down. Only this time not adding you had a boyfriend. One particular truck driver – a man a few years older than you and easy on the eyes – tried his luck, and when you just said thank you, but not interested, he noted your lack of words.

“No sorry, I got a boyfriend?” He asked, rather surprised.

You flinched, which didn’t go unnoticed. “Nope, no boyfriend...” you muttered moving around the counter.

“Huh. That’s surprisin” he stated playing with his coffee cup. “What happened? If ya don’t mind me askin'?”

Without going into detail, you gave him the summed-up version. Giving the short version hurt less, as it didn’t bring up every issue you and Benny had. And the man was nice, understanding and ended it by saying Benny hadn’t deserved you. That you would find someone to love you completely. Against your better judgement, you believed his words. Even if part of you didn’t want someone else to love you, or for yourself to love another.

Your love with Benny was one of a kind. It was good, yet bad and messy. With its ups and downs. It was wild. It was passion. It was unlike anything you’d experienced. As was Benny. You had admired him from a far, not wanting to get close or involved with him. But that man wouldn’t have that, chasing you until you gave in. And you had been so happy to. Let go and go with the flow.

Yet, it was that love that hurt when you both would fight. Or when he’d take off for weeks. Left to cry and hurt, heart aching because of how you loved that man. But was it like that for him? Hurting from how you’d both fired up and left it? Did he over think it all, and try to pinpoint where it went wrong? Probably not, that wasn’t Benny's style.

A few weeks into month three of no Benny, a few friends of yours – ones that don’t run in the Vandal circle – finally talked you into going with them to the movies. You weren’t in the mood for their girl time, as it was more superficial and of no substance, or really going out. But somehow, they talked you into it.

So Friday night, after your shift, you got home and had a shower. From there you did your hair and light make up, you had to put some effort into your appearance with these women. They were all about looks. You went with a simple (colour) swing dress, that had a rounded collar, sleeveless and a matching belt to accentuate the waist.

Sitting at your vanity you put in some earrings and then your necklace. Which you only noticed, as it lay against the fabric of your dress, was the locket that Benny had gotten you. Staring at the locket, you allowed your finger tips to graze the metal. Part of you told you to take it off, put it away and leave it in the past. Yet, you couldn’t. The locket was something special, something Benny had given you on your birthday, after you had seen it when window shopping one time. That man might have only glanced it, but remembered it completely. And you told yourself, you felt better having a part of him with you.

Not thinking about it again, you got up, put on some shoes and grabbed your bag. Once outside the door, you drove to the movie theatre. Only then were you privy to the fact this three girls movie night was actually a triple date, a blind one for you. Being left out of the loop ticked you off, and eventually you voiced that before going into the movie, when the men went to get drinks and snacks.

“Calm down (Y/N), will you!” Fussed Sally.

You huffed. “All I’m saying is that I would have liked to have known this was a triple date!”

“Honestly, if she had told you the truth, would you have came?” Questioned Ann.

You stood there for a moment silent, knowing you wouldn’t have agreed to it. “No...”

Both women shared a look. “Exactly. That’s why I didn’t tell you" Sally stated softly. “You need to go out, date even. It’s over with him, he’s gone".

You detested how they didn’t say Benny's name, never had as they didn’t like him or think him good enough for you. But also, you were glad they didn’t say it now, or else you might have gotten upset. You knew they had a point. You had to go out and live your life. You had just wanted to do it with the Vandal by your side.

The conversation died then as the men returned. Both your friends linked arms with their dates, while you chose to walk awkwardly beside the guy you were paired with. He was nice, not pushy or a jerk. He was quiet sweet. Making small talk and just being friendly in a genuine way. The movie was alright, but not something you would have seen if it wasn’t for Sally and Ann. After the movie both women and their dates left, leaving you with Andrew. He was kind enough to walk you to your car.

“I hope your night wasn’t a waste" he started, “I mean – you had a good time, even if it’s not what you expected!” He sighed flustered. “I-it’s just, I know you didn’t know about me...when I thought you did. I’m sorry you got roped into this date. But I hope it wasn’t too bad...”

For the first time in months you softly smiled, a small chuckle coming from your chest. Sure, he tripped over his words but he was sincere. Andrew was a nice, good guy. Sweet to being chatty, like friends hanging out, while your friends and their dates got cosy and kissed. He respected you, were another men wouldn’t have been.

“Thank you” you thanked softly. “Though I was blind sided, I had a good time" – Andrew visually relaxed and beamed a relieved smile – “you are a sweet man. I’m just not ready to date...I hope you understand".

He nodded slowly, a sad look shining in his eyes. “It’s alright. I do understand, though am a little sad. But I can take away that you had a good evening, at least".

You reach over and held his hand. “I did, you are a wonderful man".

Fate is a cruel mistress, always ruining your life at the worst time. And this was another one. That was the moment a roar of an approaching engine bounced along the street. And with its ever increasing volume, the familiar bike and rider came into view. Benny rode by, not seeming to notice your car or you at first. But those stormy blues finally zeroed in on you both. You could imagine what would be going through that pretty head of his. Not to mention the possible anger.

You’re not his girl anymore... came that little voice in the back of your head, you broke up...

Once Benny rode on, not even looking back or turning around, that told you everything. He was done, actually done. It was all over between you both, possibly never to get back together. That ache in your chest returned, and with it the want to cry. Quickly you said your goodbyes before getting into your car, and heading home. Not giving Andrew much room to speak before you were gone.

You felt the familiar warmth and sting to your eyes, but held them back for now. Driving towards your house you had hoped to see Benny and his bike out the front of your house, or in your drive way. But turning into the drive way there was nothing. Parking the car and turning it off, the first couple of tears escaped. Sitting in the driver seat you were frozen, sad to not see him here.

After a few minutes you managed to get out of the car, not very gracefully, and headed towards your front door. With every step a tear fell from your eyes, rolling down your cheeks. When you were finally inside, door closed and locked, you slide to a sitting position, back against the door as you freely cried. Ugly crying and barely able to breath properly. Even with the anger and the fight being justified, but you loved and missed Benny. And the hole in your chest confirmed that.

A/N: thought I'd give you all a say in how part three goes 😊

[3-aem]

universal healthcare is not broken and anyone trying to convince you it is is delusional and a dckrider for big health insurance. yes there are wait times but waiting for care is Not the same as being denied care.

in america your physician prescribes care and an insurer can still cuck you out of it because someone across the continent who has never met you can say: doesn’t seem medically necessary. Leaving you to handle a bill that is wildly inflated by the same insurers that just denied you.

let me drill it through your head you can pay thousands a year in premiums and still end up sick and financially burdened for years by One incident. no insurance company is Avoiding going broke by denying claims. theyre doing it to profit off your misfortune and your illness. Because healthcare fundamentally does not cost the amount that they claim it to be.

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

Poll has to focus to not talk at mach speed

Tequilla has to focus to not talk super slowly

neither of them are bothered by the other's vocal quirks because they always compensate for the other

[bluebelly-sun-serpentine]

Ok, at this point so many people I know have lost homes or livelihoods in one or the other if the various fires in LA county right now, and it’s kind of just heartbreak after heartbreak (and also personally scary because we have known that our own neighborhood could easily someday end up like that, too) but I want to set that a side for a second and address some misconceptions I see spreading like wildfire.

1. I’ve seen it in a lot of sites and news coverage (and we just heard my partner’s boss parrot this idea in a work call) that Biden is somehow to blame because he “should have sent out the military.” First off, there already are military resources fighting these fires (especially from the air, in black hawks, for instance) so it’s not like parts of the US military weren’t mobilized. But by and large fire responders (from CalFire, or from county and city fire departments whether from LA or not) are better qualified to fight these fires and are on the ground and in the air doing that. This is a massive mobilized force from all over the state, all over the country (firefighters from Colorado and other states are in LA) and even from across international borders, and they actually know how to fight wildland and urban fires. You can’t shoot at a fire to stop it, so generally the only truly useful military resources in a situation like this are those already specialized to fight fires, and they are already there. The US navy sent in air support from San Diego. People need to stop parroting this talking point.

2. People seem to think folks whose houses miraculously survived fires in decimated neighborhoods will be fine, but they need support, too. They don’t get an insurance payout. If they don’t have somewhere else to go, they will have to live for months in neighborhoods without working power or water infrastructure, which is not an easy task. Hopefully enough of the people who have lost places are wealthy enough to find extra accommodation or make the decision to sell their properties and rebuild their lives elsewhere, but many people probably won’t have that option, and they will still be grieving and struggling even if they are lucky.

3. The fire hydrants. People are so mad about water running out of the fire hydrants, and I get that this seems like something that should have been solved already, but this is actually a massive infrastructural issue to do with water pressure that would have required ripping out streets all over LA county, and it was probably never going to get done until massive fires like this caused an outcry, because people would have a) voted against any kind of tax measure to fund such a project and b) complained endlessly about the work if it had ever miraculously been started. It does not make sense to blame the LA city or county government for this. It really sucks, but the fire hydrants had less to do with the enormity of the damage than the absolutely horrible fire weather LA county had the day before yesterday. This is why the Hollywood fire that started yesterday evening was contained as much as it was and didn’t burn through a big chunk of west hollywood, and why the Eaton and Palisades fires got too big to contain.

You are going to hear a lot of people try to blame these tragedies on some person or agency or other, but the reality is that this shit is just going to get more and more common the more the planet warms and the USA’s west experiences an increasingly wild and variable hydroclimate. Our fire seasons are getting longer and overlapping more with dangerous wind events, and we’re having more intense rain events during the wet season that generate fuel and also greatly increase the danger of landslides post-fire. When we try to direct our anger at specific people or agencies it may make us feel better in the moment; it creates the illusion that these events are under our control, but increasingly they will not be. You cannot put out a fire like the Palisades fire under the conditions in which the Palisades fire started and gained speed. The military can’t do it. No amount of perfectly functioning fire hydrants, no increase in manpower could do it. They couldn’t even fly over it for most of the first day. It was a lost battle basically the moment it started, because of the weather. You can maybe blame the original developers of the Pacific Palisades, but mostly you should probably just be looking for ways to reduce your carbon footprint, pressure your government to reduce emissions, and encourage denser urban development while discouraging development in the WUI. Those strategies may actually make a difference to the fire prone west, and they’ll make a difference to the hurricane-prone east and southeast, and they’ll make a difference to tornado alley and to people mourning snowy winters in the north. We have very little control and the control we do have has to be leveraged correctly.

Sending love to people in the LA area dealing with fire. I hope you are safe or have somewhere safe to go.

[worstloki]

saw someone on twitter say "one of the main characters in a loki show should have been thor odinson, not some random Sylvie or Mobius.

...... It's like a written law"

wdyt do you agree

I don't think it was necessary to make Thor a main character in a Loki show, the same way it WOULD be possible to throw together a Thor movie without having Loki be a main focus.

The issue comes in the quality of the narrative itself, and writing that if evidently without intention to care for (whichever) main character's importance will not work out. Neither the Loki series nor Thor 4 cared about the arc, motivations, history, or continuity of the titular characters beyond trying to make the media marketable.

Overall messaging can add a layer to the impact a story will have. Musical score can be a bonus way to control tone or tie a story together. Supporting cast can be vital to tell a good story. Prioritising their presence over anyone's (especially Loki's) characterisation is what the Loki series suffered from, not that other, original-adjacent characters were there.

[padfootastic]

summary: from euphemia to james to sirius to harry to lily luna—traditions passed down through the generations of potters. love in the form of feeding your people, aloo paranthas as a labor of love etc etc

a labor of love

(also on ao3!)

August, 1970

“Jamie, breakfast’s ready!”

Loud steps thundered around the house as her ten year old raced down the stairs. Euphemia didn’t even bother to reprimand him at this point—she knew it was a pointless endeavour. Instead, she made sure the safety charms on the staircase were always updated.

“HiMumGoodMorningWhatsForBreakfast,” James’ words came out in one single whoosh of air and it was only because this was her child that she had extensive experience with that she could decode what he was saying.

She smiled gently while placing the plate in front of him. “Aloo parantha, honey.”

“Yesss,” James hissed in pleasure, a quick fist pumped in the air, before bending forward with his nose mere millimetres away from the paranthas.

Euphemia swapped the back of his head with a ‘tsk’. “James. How many times have I told you not to smell your food? You’re not a dog.”

“Ma, you don’t get it, okay. It smells so good,” he replied with a goofy, cross-eyed expression. “Seriously, whenever I go to heaven, I just know it’ll smell like fried potato and ghee and coriander. Life can’t get any better than this.”

Euphemia could only smile at the innocent look of wonder on her son’s face as he tore a piece off to stuff it in his mouth, hoping it always stayed there. If she had to keep making him aloo paranthas every morning to keep it there, she’d happily do so. 

August, 1976

Sirius huddled closer into the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest and trying to count his breaths so he didn’t go so fast anymore.

It was some ungodly time of the day and he was sitting on the floor, pressed right up against the corner of the living room of Potter Manor, having a minor—really, not a big deal at all—panic attack about…well, everything.

It hadn’t been two days since he’d run away from Grimmauld Place and already the hopelessness was settling into his bones. He couldn’t stop replaying the words and curses and taunts and Reg’s face and—

“Sirius?” A drowsy voice cut through his spiral. He shouldn’t be surprised.

James always had a way of doing that.

“H-Hi, Jamie,” he replied, straightening up and wiping his eyes in a futile attempt to hide the tears he could feel pooling there. It wouldn’t work, he knew that, James always, always knew but he still had to try.

Sure enough, a pair of sock clad feet (adorned in little animated snitches) stopped right in front of him. His gaze traveled slowly, reluctantly, up to see James looking at him with a complicated look on his face. It was a mixture of sadness and frustration and resignation. Sirius hated that he put it there. James wasn’t made for expressions like that—he should always be happy, smiling, and this felt wrong, wrong, wrong.

Before he could do anything, though (not that there was much in his control), a hand entered his vision, palm up in invitation. Without even thinking twice about it—he would always choose James—he let himself be pulled up and straight into strong arms that were the only thing keeping him whole and grounded so far.

The hug ended in less time than it took for him to draw a full, shaky, breath. The abruptness of it left him reeling. 

“Come on,” James said, tugging him in the direction of the kitchen. Sirius followed, confused, letting himself be manhandled into the kitchen stool and watched James take something out of the cooking cabinet.

“Boiled potatoes,” he explained, already moving on to the spice rack. “Mum always keeps some ready to go.”

With quick, practiced movements, James had them peeled and mashed. Another sealed container was retrieved—‘Dough. For the rotis’—and a flat top griddle was placed on the stove.

Sirius watched the whole thing in a daze, unable to identify a single thing but being comforted all the same. It felt almost like a ritual; the rhythmic movements of James’ hands as he rolled the dough into balls, and stuffed them with the potatoes. Watching him smooth it out into a round, flat shape. 

“I didn’t know you were so proficient in the kitchen, Prongs,” Sirius finally said as the kitchen warmed up from his best mate’s ministrations, the smell of ghee-fried dough and spiced potatoes permeating the air.

“I’m not, really,” James shrugged. “But aloo paranthas are—they’re different, you know? Everyone should know how to make them.“

“I’ve never even tried them.”

“Well, then, everyone should have them at least once in their lives,” James said, firmly.

He placed a plate full of warm, steaming—aloo paranthas in front of Sirius and without even knowing what they really were, he could feel the rest of the tension seeping out of him. It’s a temporary relief, to be sure, but that it happened at all is enough to both awe and excite him.

He looked up at James with wide eyes, only to receive a knowing smile in return.

“Have a bite, Pads,” James pushed the plate closer. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

And he didn’t.

As he sat there and entirely demolished four of the wonderful paranthas—after days of not feeling the slightest pang of hunger—Sirius was helpless against the warmth that suffused his entire being, not just from the heat of the potatoes, but from the boy in front of him who’d decided to take a chance on him. Decided to welcome him not just in his arms but his house, his family. 

August, 1995

“Sirius, why are we here?” Harry asked, confused. A minute ago, they were in the garden, talking about something or the other, and then suddenly his godfather had grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the kitchen.

“Because you, my dear Prongslet, have been severely, unforgivably wronged and it’s time to start rectifying that,” Sirius proclaimed, which really didn’t help.

“…huh?”

“You just told me you’ve never had anything but bland, boring British food. Ever.” Sirius stressed the last word, making a point Harry wasn’t quite sure of.

“Yes…because the Dursleys are raging racists and Hogwarts isn’t too creative with its culinary choices,” Harry slowly said, feeling eerily like he was defending himself for…not being able to have a diverse palette?

“Exactly. If James had a grave, he’d be rolling around in it.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Look, I was supposed to do this for you since the day you were old enough to eat solids. That I didn’t…well. Let’s not go there right now. But now that I do have the chance, it’s practically first on the list of my godfatherly duties—“

“What is, Sirius?” Harry asked, slightly exasperated. The man was making no sense.

“Making aloo paranthas, Harry! Come on, keep up, it’s bad enough you’ve gone this far without—any longer and I swear, James will find a way to come back to wring my neck and tie you to a chair just so he could force feed you,” Sirius finished, a slightly haunted look in his eyes like he was speaking from experience.

Harry blinked. What—?

“Now, luckily for us, the boiled potatoes are already done. You’ve got me to thank for that bit of foresight, of course, never go without since fifth year—“

“Why?”

“—because they’re so versatile—“

“Right, of course, how silly of me.”

“Yes. So, now you’ve gotta peel and mash it, and none of that ricer or fork nonsense, either, okay? You’ve gotta really get in there with your hands.” Sirius demonstrated by taking one slightly cold potato from the bowl, expertly peeling and crushing it between his fingers. He kept going until it was almost smooth, with just the smallest hint of texture. Once done, he turned expectantly towards Harry, eyebrow raised and ‘go on’ written all over his face.

Still slightly bemused, Harry stepped forward and gingerly took a potato of his own. Trying to peel it was—not as easy as he thought and everything else faded away as he concentrated on making sure no brown bits remained. It was a surprisingly soothing task. When he had his first potato peeled and mashed, he turned to Sirius proudly.

“There. What next?”

Sirius nodded in approval. “Now, we do the rest of it.”

And standing there shoulder to shoulder, the two of them managed to get through a veritable mountain of boiled potatoes, interspersed with Sirius’ stories of the Potters, a rare, greedy pleasure for Harry.

“Your grandmum, Euphemia, she’d make this for breakfast every so often. It was James’ favorite and she could never resist his great, big eyes—you get that from him, by the way. Not many people could, mind, but it was particularly effective when he wanted to scam some paranthas out of her.”

and “Your dad wasn’t the best in the kitchen, but this was one thing he was absolutely adamant he learn. Spent hours with Effie and Rani perfecting it, as well.”

Once the potatoes were done, Sirius directed him to the spice cabinet. “Now, this is the most important bit, Harry. Everyone makes their aloo paranthas in their own way. You can have different people following the same recipe and all of their final results would still taste different.”

Harry nodded in understanding. It was a bit like Aunt Petunia’s prized Roast Dinner—she always claimed no one else could make it the way she could, not even letting Harry close to the preparation of it. 

“The first time I had this was in fifth year—similar to you, come to think of it—and I’ve experimented after, right? It was so good I had to. I went to many, many places in muggle London—roadside stalls to fine dining, you name it—and not once have I felt the same as when your dad made it with his eyes still half closed and the paranthas a little burnt on the edges and a bit undercooked in the middle. There’s no competition. So. It’s all in the spice, yes?”

Sirius handed him the container of carom seeds. “That being said, the most important bit?”

Harry leaned forward, eager, all hesitation forgotten in the face of a piece of his culture, his family being passed down to him like this.

“You’ve got to—“

August, 2017

“—measure with your heart, okay, Lils?”

Little Lily Luna Potter, only nine but adopting an air of maturity of someone much older, nodded solemnly, taking her dad’s word as gospel.

“This isn’t just food—this is you telling someone you love them. It’s a warm hug. Feeding someone, taking care of them, is no small job. So, forget all this measurements nonsense and just get in there,” Harry finished, nostalgia coating his words as he quoted his own godfather word for word.

“Get in there, Daddy!” Lily-Lu repeated empathetically.

“That’s right,” Harry chuckled, using one hand to ruffle the riotous mane of red curls piled on top of her head. “The next thing to go in is the powdered spices. Which ones are those, again?”

Lily-Lu squinted thoughtfully. “Coriander powder, red chili powder, tyoo-mer-ic, and cumin powder. That’s all of it, right, Daddy?”

Harry smiled at her serious countenance. “There’s just one more you’re missing.”

She frowned, biting her lip and mumbling under breath. “One more? Coriander…chili…cumin…and—and—garam masala! It’s garam masala, isn’t it?” The last few words were said in an excited shout, almost loud enough to startle him but he could only lean forward and place a quick kiss on her forehead in approval.

“Sure is, sweetheart. You’re a quick one, aren’t you?”

“I’m smart, Daddy, you and Mummy say so,” Lily-Lu returned, self-satisfaction radiating from every inch of her little frame

“That’s because you are; the smartest of us all, isn’t it?” Harry teased, while carefully mixing the spices with the potatoes. This one he’d do himself—Lily-Lu’s hands weren’t the steadiest yet.

“Oh!” She exclaimed suddenly, leaning forward. “The salt! You forgot the salt, Daddy.”

Harry blinked in surprise, looking down at his array of ingredients and realised he had.

“Huh. So I have, it seems. Would you like to do the honours, Lulu?” He extended the container towards her, smiling once again at how she was practically vibrating in excitement.

Harry was—not just glad but utterly ecstatic that he could do this, had the opportunity and ability for it. And he had no one but Sirius to thank for it.

Taking care of me even from the afterlife, aren’t you, Siri? he thinks with a silent offering of gratitude to the universe. I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for it, for everything. 

“And now, the absolute final step?”

“The chopped coriander!” Lily-Lu chirped, already reaching forward to clasp a handful of coriander he’d prepared beforehand. She sprinkled it all over their mixture with a high, bright giggle and Harry could’ve spent an eternity in that moment, with his child beside him and the weight of his family behind him.

[lesbiansanemi]

I am so fucking sick of living with my roommate and his fuck ass boyfriend. Also watching my roommate burn every single one of his (already rather minimal, I might add) bridges for this guy is also kind of painful but also his relationship with me is one of said bridges so I'm almost past the point of even feeling bad for him lmao

[undyinglantern]

OH

MY MISUNDERSTOOD BROTHER 🤝🤝🤝 if I had a dollar for every time my parents made a weird “por como sos de delicada” comment to me wrt cleaning/things that are dirty I’d be rich

[gatheryepens]

So I’m like 99.1% going to quit my job

[onehundredelevven]

Toji w/ preggy wife + out-of-this-world cravings

Toji stared at the counter. The ingredients you demanded sat before him like a challenge issued by the gods: instant ramen, whipped cream, peanut butter, and pickles. A lineup so vile it could send even the most daring chef into an existential crisis.

"Are you serious about this, or am I just getting pranked?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

You sat on the couch, legs crossed, a pillow pressed against your baby bump as you gave him the most innocent look in return. "Dead serious."

"You want ramen topped with this… stuff? And you're gonna eat it."

"Yup."

Toji groaned, running a hand through his dark hair. Of course, you had to pick this moment in your pregnancy to throw curveballs at him. The man was many things—an ex-hitman, a gambler, a loving yet blunt husband—but a gourmet chef? Not so much.

Still, he got to work. He boiled water, ripped open the ramen packet, and eyed the whipped cream like it might explode if he got too close. The sound of the kettle whistling filled the silence, but your voice broke through soon after.

“Don’t forget to add peanut butter! Like a lottt.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, spooning a glob of it into the pot and stirring like his life depended on it. The smell was… not great. Toji’s nose wrinkled in pure, unfiltered disgust. “You sure this ain’t gonna poison the kid?”

“It’s what the kid wants, Toji. I’m just the messenger,” you quipped.

When it was finally done—complete with pickles carefully arranged on top—Toji approached you with the steaming bowl in hand. He hesitated, watching your excited expression as you reached for it.

“I can’t believe you’re actually gonna eat this. You’re insane,” he muttered, plopping down beside you on the couch.

“Hey, you married me,” you shot back, grabbing the bowl and digging in with absolutely no hesitation.

Toji watched, equal parts fascinated and horrified, as you slurped up the ramen, the whipped cream melting into the broth in a way that should’ve been illegal. He leaned back, arms crossed, still trying to wrap his head around the scene.

“This is actually amazing,” you said between bites, offering him the spoon. “Wanna try?”

He recoiled immediately, glaring at you like you’d suggested he jump off a cliff. “Not in a million years, woman.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t knock it ‘til you try it!”

“Yeah, well, I’ll take your word for it.”

Despite his grumbling, he stayed by your side, handing you napkins, fetching water when you needed it, and even cleaning up after you finished. Disgusted or not, there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d let you handle it yourself.

Later that night, as you snuggled into him in bed, you mumbled, “Thanks for putting up with me. And the weird cravings.”

Toji pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand resting protectively on your belly. “Tch. Don’t mention it. Just don’t ask me to eat that crap.”

But even as he complained, you knew he’d do it all over again if it made you and the baby happy.

[eowynstwin]

Price x Reader. Age gap. Divorced Price. Older BF Price. Vaguely smutty. Follow-up to this.

Price realizes you’ve never had a reliable man in your life exactly the second time he discovers you looking up DIY home maintenance for very simple projects.

It missed him the first time because he was deployed. You’d mentioned offhand how you were figuring out how to rebalance a ceiling fan, and he’d just automatically assumed that you were doing it yourself because he wasn’t there, so he simply praised you for your resourcefulness and lived for the next three weeks off of the way you’d absolutely glowed at his words.

But then he gets home, and one evening on the couch he catches you googling “how to fix a leaky sink.”

“What’s that?” he asks you, tamping down on the sudden feeling of masculine inadequacy that reared up almost immediately at the discovery.

“Faucet handle’s leaking all over my counter when I turn it on,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “Landlord’s out of town and can’t fix it.”

“I’m in town, ain’t I?”

You look up at him then, brows raised. You hadn’t even considered asking him, then.

“Oh—I didn’t want to bother you, John, you only just got back, and you’re tired…”

You trail off at the droll expression on his face.

Price has learned a lot of lessons from his previous marriage. The foundational one: just because he hasn’t been asked to help doesn’t mean he is believed to be unreliable. Adding that lesson to his knowledge base about you—young, modern, independent—calculates out an obvious answer that curtails any sour mood that might have sprouted up over the issue.

He puts his hand over your phone screen and lowers it down to your lap. “I’m fixin’ the sink,” he says simply.

He enjoys the way your eyes dilate at the assertion.

The next day, he shows up at your flat wearing old work clothes and carrying his heavy toolbox in his hand.

(You don’t live together yet—something he’s keen to rectify—but he has a toothbrush in your bathroom and permanent space in your bedroom drawers. He can be content for now.)

And you—you answer the door in the filmiest of sundresses, the ribbon tie on one shoulder hanging at a loose angle.

“Heard you need some plumbing done,” he says in the gruffest of voices, already understanding the game.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” you say, barely able to hide your giggle, “I’ve been so worried.”

He steps in close to you, close enough to feel the heat of your body radiating off of your bare skin. He has half a mind to put the charade aside and lift your skirt here and now, but another lesson helpfully springs to mind: anticipation of the act makes the finale all the sweeter.

“I’ll show you to the kitchen,” you murmur, looking up at him with warm, dreamy eyes.

When he gets under the sink, he finds the problem easy enough to fix—the cold water supply line simple isn’t screwed in tight enough, and when he wiggles the whole contraption by the valves he finds that nothing has been tightened up to standard. A couple of years knocking the thing around had probably loosened up the locknut.

He elects to fix the whole problem in one go, while in the meantime you stand off to the side, watching him. He feels your eyes on his legs, trailing up to the hair on his belly exposed by his shirt riding up.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I should’ve said before,” you simper, “but I’m not really sure how I’m gonna pay for this.”

His cock jumps in his jeans, and he feels your gaze move to it as if it’s a physical touch.

He levers himself out a little and meets your eyes, keeping a stern expression on his face.

“I’m sure you’re gonna figure it out,” he says. Looking down at his groin and then back up at your face might be a touch unsubtle, but clear communication had been the most important lesson of all.

He slides himself back under, and pretends he doesn’t feel you approach, or lower to your knees between his spread legs. He ignores your gentle hands falling on the closure of his jeans, the pop of the button coming undone, the parting of the zipper as you pull it down.

“Of course, sir,” you say, “I’m sure I will.”

The softness of your hand meets his growing erection, caressing the head of his cock with your thumb—followed very close behind by the wet, liquid heat of your mouth.

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