#his 401K is empty

[zolanort]

This is how I remember it happening.

[foreverfalling21]

OKAY BUT JASKIER'S WIG IS A HATE CRIME. What did they do to you, you sweet, gentle, surprisingly buff man???

[tteokdoroki]

˗ˏˋ 💎  JJK MEN AS OVERPROTECTIVE GIRL DADS gojo, sukuna & geto .ᐟ

⋆˙ ᯓ★  about ! “a little girl’s first love will always be her father." three scenarios in which the daughters of three jjk men introduce their boyfriends to their fathers. ( 5.7K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. video banner. not beta read. sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, no-curses!au, mentions of pregnancy, children and babies, the children have no names, some family issues, married life, domestic bliss, husband + father!jjk men, mother + fem!reader.

sonic says ! hello everyone !! i wanted to try my hand at some head canons and scenarios, i couldn’t get this idea out of my head so put a pause on working on kinktober to write it lol!! hope you enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ 

ᯓ★ SATORU GOJO:

before meeting you, satoru gojo had never been fond of a family dinner. 

in his childhood home — they were cold and quiet, pockets of clattering cutlery would cut through painstaking silence and distract from the loud emptiness of the seat at the head of the table where his own father was supposed to be. his mother, often solemn and sunken in the shoulders, never spoke. never cooked and slipped small bites to her son in between preparation or steps.

they had staff for that, they had staff for everything.

to keep the household clean and together. to keep him fed and breathing. to keep him alive. all requirements felt almost clinical, the environment in which he was raised almost like the white walls of a hospital — without a trace of love needed for a child like satoru gojo needed to thrive. 

even if he had all the money in the world, he hadn’t a drop of love. he wasn’t ever sure if he was capable of the warm and fuzzy emotion, didn’t know if it was something his heart could ever open up to — sealed in by layers of cool, cold concrete and cement. kept in a safe without a key. at least until you miraculously found it and melted the thick layers of ice blocking satoru’s veins. you brought back colour to his cheeks and light to his eyes, taking up the space in his heart where his family had left a swirling, black void. 

to satoru, you were a saving grace. his everything… and he swore he’d never be like his father; who left his wife unhappy and empty, like a abandoned shell. he promised; he’d do much better than his parents ever did. especially when you found out you were pregnant, even more so when your little girl came into the world with plentiful white curls and lashes, screaming at the top of her teeny tiny lungs. 

at the time, you were sure you’d never seen satoru gojo so in love ( and so teary eyed too ) — but you knew what becoming a parent meant to him. what it meant for the new life you now shared.

but now, having met you and married you and created life with you — satoru had found a new appreciation for family dinners. they were a sacred event, a special time for him to keep up with the lives of his children and let them know he was there. present. 

it wasn’t a time to be imposed on and certainly not by meddlesome boyfriends brought home by sixteen year old daughters.

“so kid, what’s your 401K look like?��� 

satoru carries a look of disdain, his nostrils flared, blue eyes narrowed and perfect pink lips curled in an unhappy frown. 

the young boy opposite him, a little scrawny and awkward, shrinks underneath the white haired man’s intense gaze — if you squinted, you could probably see him shaking like a little leaf in the intense wind from across the table “um… i don’t know?”

“hear that little guy? no 401K… how’s he meant to take care of your sister. yeah, yeah.

you’re right, i’ll give him a chance,” he mutters to the baby boy snoozing happily in his arms under his breath, engaging in a one sided conversation before switching his focus back to his daughter’s…sorry excuse for a partner. “okay then… finances, clearly not. academics and common sense —“ pausing,  the white haired father of two clicks his tongue, pushing it into the soft flesh on the inside of his cheek as if to feel his next words out in his mouth. “do you even know what a bouquet of flowers is, kid? a corsage? gojo women don’t play about their flowers, yanno.” 

“sir—“

without giving the boy a chance to speak, gojo drops his intrusive gaze under the table and back up again — pointing an accusatory finger at his little girl’s partner. “your top button’s undone and your shoe laces are untied. you might wanna fix that! if you care about my daughter’s safety!” he turns his nose up all petulant like a picky toddler being forced to eat his veggies, he even sticks his tongue out for good measure. gojo’s eccentric movements nearly jostle his sleepy son in place. the baby whines and gurgles a little bit, only soothed by a pat to his back from dad — who repositions him to snooze over his shoulder.

in a silent, quieter gesture, satoru uses two fingers to point between his eyes and the boy’s. almost as if to say ‘i’m watching you.’

catching him in the act, the eldest gojo daughter bounces into the room carrying plates of steaming hot food, exhaling with worm down patience evident in her body language. “daddy please, you don’t act like this normally. stop messing around.” rolling her eyes, she sets the dishes down, freeing up her hand to smack the back of her dad’s clearly empty skull. just like her mother.

“well sooooorrry for being a good dad and caring about your wellbeing! who you’re dating! who you’re bringing into our bloodline!” gojo rebuttals with petish grunts, unable to cradle the back of his injured head like he does with his son.  

and as if by magic, you, his beautiful and loving and gorgeous wife appear with dinner plates in hand to double down on a scolding the white haired man. amused, you also swat at your husband’s head and tut down at him. “satoru? what are you doing?” there’s something about the way you tease and tell gojo off that always makes his heart race, even after all these years of marriage and raising his kids. he loves you, his family so much. he almost keens into your touch like a pathetic dog, until your daughter starts gagging at the sight — slipping into her set. you were supposed to be watching the baby. not interrogating the poor kid.” 

“we’re having a heart to heart, babe,” gojo swoons, clearing his throat as his head bobs in the direction of his daughter’s boyfriend. “jimbob here was just telling me about his 3.4% grade point average.”

“it’s hiro sir! and uh… 3.5% sir.” the boyfriend in question chirps shyly.

you know that your husband feels… almost threatened by another man entering your daughter’s life — they’ve been practically inseparable since the moment she first opened her eyes. to give up the duty of loving and protecting her and pass it onto someone else is probably what scares him the most. “that’s pretty good hun!” you comment absentmindedly, hoping to pull satoru away from the conversation.

“no it’s not! our daughter has a 4.0%.”

“s-she was failing in math, i was tutoring her.” the boyfriend hopefully interjects again, whispering next when the baby stirs at the dining table. “i hope that makes up for my 401K sir. i-i also work part time to save for college and—!” 

“haha — no i wasn’t!” the younger gojo girl tenses in place, elbowing her date in the ribs not so discretely from under the table. it’s this interaction that makes her father smile, only briefly, before you scowl his way.

“i thought you told them we met at a tutoring session.” 

“you were failing?” you raise a brow, taking your own seat beside her father. 

“see! this boy failure is a bad influence on our daughter!” a glare settles on the slopes of satoru’s angelic features, mirrored by your child’s unimpressed expression across the table. in his arms, your youngest fusses about as if he senses the mounting tension at the table — earning a bounce or two from daddy, who turns your way all matter-of-factly like. “see, this why he doesn’t have a 401K”

“why would a teenager have a 401k, satoru!” comes your exasperated sigh.

“i had one when i was his age.” satoru shoots back and the kid sinks nervously in his seat. the poor boy looks as though he wants to disappear, squirming in place like he’s no better than a worm on a bait hook — it’s torture being interrogated and inspected by someone so close to the person you love most, but even he knows how important satoru’s approval is to your daughter.

she wouldn’t say it now, not when she was all grown up and finding her way out in the world — but she idolised gojo, all of her fondest memories are painted in his colours. shades of sapphire and azure like his vivid eyes, snowy white from his hair that almost rivals the clouds in the sky — the backdrop to days spent riding her father’s shoulders through the big wide world, racing down grassy green hills and wasting the hours away. she wouldn’t admit it here, today, but she never wanted to leave those memories. leave her father behind in her youth — it was written on each dip and curve and highlight on her youthful face, she wanted her father to move into this next phase of life with her too.

“daddy, you were a trust fund baby with shit grades and no prospects until you met mum,” she huffs but her words hold no malice, even if the sass brims over the edge of her tone like an emotionally charged, overflowing glass of water. you’d chide her for cursing — but you know she means well, stubbornly expressing her desire for approval to her man child of a father. “a loser, if you will.” 

gojo slumps, the rosey petals of his plump lips pushing into an age old pout. “how could you say that about dear old dad?” he whines, as though he’s a wounded animal. 

“well she’s not wrong, baby. you were a loser satoru, you still are.” the words are fond and light hearted on your tongue, a similar state to the wisps of a smile that trace over your own lips. leaning in close, you tickle the nose of the gurgling baby boy in his arms, heart heavy with affection — grateful that the one interaction you had with your husband all those years ago ( when he was a scrapier and misunderstood ) led you both to the beautiful chaotic family you have together now. “a hot one at least.” 

“gross.” your daughter groans and buries her embarrassed gaze in the spread of food on the neatly laid table — grabbing a plate and piling it high to cope.

her boyfriend chuckles nervously, wanting nothing more but to eat and do the same. desperate to hide from gojo’s intimidating aura, but too afraid to cross another one of his ridiculous invisible lines. “i think that’s very sweet mrs gojo!”

the brief moment of peace in the war of dad v boyfriend is then interrupted by the white haired man’s temper tantrum, realising that his only daughter is still in the room. “don’t push it kid.” the father of your children all but wails and finds something else about the young couple to pick apart. “you’re sitting too close together! move apart!” 

“daddy—!”

“w-what?”

“i said move it or lose it kid, before i keel over and die of heartbreak.” “betrayal. my own daughter, leaving me for someone else.” 

the two separate, shifting their chairs away from one another despite never actually being too close. you share an empathetic look with your eldest, empathetic to your husband’s actions. you both knew he wouldn’t handle the meeting well, but this was beyond your whilst dreams. the young couple’s hands remain intertwined under the table cloth as the meal begins properly, and when satoru notices, he doesn’t comment — biting down hard on his unhappy tongue. he knows all too well what it’s like to love against the odds, his father in law hardly wanted him around you. it’s not like he wasn’t aware how bad he was for you, how your standards might have even dropped for the man to be with him. but you loved satoru with your entire being, wholly and against all of your own parent’s wishes. 

in a way, the dinner tonight reminds him of himself meeting your father for the first time — how he had to work for his approval too. prove that he was more than just a spoilt brat. too caught up in the memories, the odd sense of loss threaded between his every breath and the love he holds for his daughter settled in his lungs — gojo almost kissed the way you whisper to him adoringly, head drooping to rest on his shoulder mostly to look at your baby but partly to comfort him. “you’re being dramatic satoru. look at them, don’t you just love young love.” 

and he does, he looks, really looks — softly staring across the table and through the haze of his own judgement, noticing how happy his little girl looks all wrapped up with her boyfriend. all he’s ever wanted is to keep her smiling, give her a life that his parents couldn’t give him, he feels all of his resentment and fear or losing his daughter melt away like a plain sheet of paper dissolving in water. he loves her too much to not let her be happy, his baby. his little girl. 

“no, not at all,” satoru finally relents with a wobbling voice and silvery tears that dot his vision — shaking his head back and forth to stop them from dropping onto his sleeping son gathered in his arms. “w-why would you say that? god, is it allergy season? my eyes are killing me. they’re not cute at all, why would you say that i’m crying?” 

your teenage daughter glances over, relief evident in all of her identical gojo features. “no one mentioned you crying, daddy.” she coos softly in an attempt to console satoru.

it doesn’t work, he starts dry heaving and sobbing. which is new for her, he hasn’t cried this hard since her baby brother was born.

the kid scrambles into his pocket and damn near stumbles over the table in order to hand your white haired lover a tissue. “i don’t think you’re crying sir!” 

“shut up!” gojo sniffles dramatically, putting on his best theatre kid act and drapes himself ( and the baby ) all over you. “shit, is this cushioned tissue? three ply?” pale, deft fingers swipe at the blue pools of eyes which well with tears while the kid nods over enthusiastically — desperate to please his girlfriend’s guardian. “good stuff this is… but this doesn’t mean i approve of you for my daughter!”

“gojo!” 

“whaaaaat!? he doesn’t have a 401K!”

ᯓ★ RYOMEN SUKUNA:

if you’d told sukuna, almost a decade and a half ago, that he would end up with a life shrouded in domestic bliss — he would have laughed in your face. maybe even called you a cunt whilst telling you to fuck off. back then, when he was younger and the spirit of ambitious fire burned brightly in his veins as though he had petroleum for blood, the pink haired man never dreamed of settling down. buying a house. getting married. or having kids.

he was as untameable as a wild horse, with only one goal in mind. to open up his restaurant and get his family out of that shithole town by all and any means. he’d cross whatever rivers he had to, climb whatever mountains he needed to — push past societal hurdles that judged him for the pink in his hair and the thick ink on his body. ryomen sukuna did not care. not about anyone else, only about his goals.

at least, until he met you. 

in many ways, you were a blessing to the world where sukuna was a curse. his complete opposite, the day to his night. though the worlds and lives you came from were completely different — 

nowadays, the man is a little softer around the edges and weaker in the heart — they say that’s what true love does to you.

a set of keys jingle at the front door, followed by the dull thud of trainers on the shoe rack and footsteps on the mahogany wood floor. sukuna hardly looks up from the article he’s reading — something about the best recipes for autumnal vegetables. who would have thought, ryomen sukuna, reading up on gardening. he would tell anyone who asked it was for his restaurant, not because he actually enjoyed it. would make him look soft. 

“hey, i’m home!” the voice that calls to him is sweet and youthful, a dulcet symphony that tugs paternally at the pink haired man’s heart strings. “is ma here?” 

sukuna smiles to himself behind the newspaper, inhaling its fresh ink scent. “in the kitchen, workin’,” he replies absentmindedly, listening to his daughter skid down the hall after dropping her backpack. “oi squirt, you ain’t slick. you know what day it is, report card. now.” 

there’s a dramatic sigh that follows footsteps trailing back into the living room. sukuna’s daughter, his pride and joy clings onto the doorframe with a scowl that could very well rival his own, ruby red eyes twinkling with annoyance — she’s in a rush to chat with her mother after school, he knows, but he can’t help but to tease her just a bit. “s’in my bag, can i go now?” she whines impatiently but takes off at the first gentle nod from her father in reply. 

but the pink haired parent’s peaceful evening is quickly turned upside down at the discovery he makes in the bottom of his pride and joy’s bag. no matter how much time has passed, how many decades have gone by in which he’s been a father — nothing could prepare him for this new challenge, the new wave of emotions that come with having a tween daughter and swirl hotly in his chest.

“what the fuck is this?” he announces with a foul snarl, slipping into the kitchen where his girls chitchat idly over a test batch of cookies sukuna had made earlier in the day. for his restaurant of course. not because he’s a doting husband or loving father. he’s got an image to uphold and it’s not one of domestic bliss. 

his daughter chirps, not looking up from the sweet treat she picks apart and pops into her mouth — seated on the kitchen island while you work away on your laptop. “what’s what, daddy?” her innocent nonchalance about the older sukuna’s discovery almost makes him pop a vein. “also, ma told you to stop saying the f-word. so, swear jar.”

the hulking man with the contrastingly soft pink pokes his tongue into the soft epithelium of his cheek, his jaw ticks and a playful frustration tingles throughout all four of his limbs. the swear jar was something you’d brought into play as soon as [daughter name] had learned how to talk, afraid that your rough and rugged husband’s potty mouth would rub off on her young impressionable mind. every time a cursed word falls from between ryomen sukuna’s lips, a couple hundred yen is popped into the jar as punishment. the thing was practically full by your baby’s third birthday, so you’ve been putting it down as her college fund ever since.

paper rustles between deft and tattooed fingers as sukuna reveals not a report card, but a crinkled note like the kind passed back and forth between distracted kids in the middle of that one class before lunch. “don’t play dumb with me, squirt.” ryomen holds the note up to the light so that both of his girls can see, blood diamond eyes squinting so he can inspect it better. somebody get this guy his glasses. “‘do you want to go out with me? tick for yes, cross for no.’” he reads out loud, each word leaving a bitter taste on his tongue, his frown so deep that lines of disapproval form on his well-aged face.

thoughts of the once all-important report card vanish into thin air, the relaxed aura in the room replaced with a palatable tension that not even your husband’s finest knives could cut. your precious baby girl shoots up from the counter to scramble with her dad over the note in hand. he holds her back with a large palm to the forehead.

“oh my god! you weren’t supposed to see that! daddy, give it here. please!”

“fat chance, squirt,” the tattooed man retorts. “you passin’ notes in class? that why you’re hidin’ your report card?” 

“you can have my report card, when you give that back!”

with the two standing side by side, the resemblance strikes you as clear as day. they share the same hair, same scowl and same rugged intonation to their voices. they’re both yours, your entire world under one roof. before they can blow said root off, you stand between the elder and younger sukuna — turning to your husband with hooded eyes and a gentle hand on the centre of his broad chest. “oh ryo,” you coo in flirtation, slowing his train of thought as you sneakily swipe the crushed paper from his grip. “shut up ‘n let me see that.”

your daughter gags behind you at the display of affection, contrasting with the amused smirk you share with your long time lover. after all this time, marriage and the perfect kid, you’re still able to make a fool out of him — make sukuna’s heart skip a beat and a heat he refuses to acknowledge crawl up the back of his neck. he’s gone soft, for you and his family. for now, for you, he relents on taunting his precious little girl. 

casting your gaze over the note, you grin at the pink-ink chicken scratch scribbled across the page. it’s sweet and endearing, reminding you of young love. “did atsushi finally ask you out?” you ask tenderly, handing the paper back to your daughter who cuddles it to her chest like the  physical version of a precious memory. 

a bashful expression lines the contours of her face, seeping into features you’d recognise from your husband on her. sukuna would argue that she has the shape of your eyes and your beauty too — but all you see is a culmination of love. “ma you were so totally right, playing hard to get really works!” 

she gushes dreamily over her crush like it’s puppy love, biting her lip and bouncing on the spot. 

“like a charm, every time.” comes your entertained response, much to your husband’s dismay.

“you weren’t playin’ hard to get with me…” sukuna questions rather than states, trying to piece together parts of the gossip that he’s missed. an anxiety corners the beat of his heart at the thought of his daughter dating, something in which the burly man never thought he would be afraid of. the world had been hard on sukuna; he only worries that it’s not as safe for his pride and joy as it were for him.   “never mind that; the brat asked you out with a piece of paper?  y’better not have said yes. we have standards here.” 

his words make you roll your eyes with the hint of a smile. ryomen almost reminding you of your own father around the time you’d met him.

your daughter scrunches her nose petulantly, gearing herself up for a witty reply. “well ma married you, so her standards can’t be that high.” she snaps, earning a stifled laugh from you and an unimpressed grunt from her hardheaded dad. “and no, i didn’t. told him he needed to ask me out  properly. face to face. with words. he said to meet him on the running track tomorrow at lunch for a surprise!”

pulling her into a hug, you kiss her round youthful cheek. “oh baby, i'm so happy for you!”

“well i ain’t! show me the damn kid, need to see what kind of pitiful brat wants to ask out my little girl,”  sukuna crosses his arms and grumbles to himself, black ink tattoos flexing menacingly as he does so. almost as if he’s preparing to threaten the kid before even meeting him. “whatever happened to askin’ for permission to court or whatever. he should have been on my doorstep asking for your hand.” 

“firstly you would have said no, and secondly this isn’t the olden days, dad. nobody does that anymore.” your cheeky daughter chides him loudly, her words slipping over her snarky little tongue. like father like daughter, the way they snip and snap at one another has an uncanny resemblance.

tilting your head upwards towards your fuming husband, you laugh breathlessly in a way that washes away his anger.“she’s right ryo; though my dad hardly approved of you either.” you say softly. even now, you make him feel weak in the knees and dizzy in the mind, like he’s so anything for you. whoever dates his daughter should feel the same about her.

“i freakin’ earned it, didn’t i? 

“just barely.”

sukuna huffs but settles a hand on your waist from behind and his head atop yours. he needs to soothe himself somehow, his daughter is growing too fast. “stop ganging up on me and lemme see the damn kid.” 

“here, isn’t he cute.” 

lips downturned, sukuna craned his neck to look at your daughter’s phone from over your shoulder — scrutinising the instagram page that she’s opened now offering the kid his only child has taken an interest in like a lamb at the slaughterhouse. “brat looks like a noodle.” haughty laughter fills the kitchen, reverberating against the bones and organs in ryomen’s chest and buzzing right though your back. “you’re right i woulda said no as soon as he fuckin’ turned up!” 

two sets of scolding eyes similar in shape, belonging to the two girls he loves the most swivel around to face the pink haired man disapprovingly.

“ryomen sukuna!” 

“daddy!”

“yeah yeah, i know. swear jar.”

ᯓ★ SUGURU GETO:

“my love, were you aware that our little munchkin has a boyfriend?”

suguru looks up from the bubbling pot of child friendly pasta sauce on the stove. if it were just the two of you having dinner tonight, like it was merely three (nearly four) years ago — he would have planned for a more adventurous meal. perhaps sought out a bottle of fine aged wine for you both to enjoy on the balcony and even gotten a dessert to sweeten the date in. but now, you both had more than two hungry tummies to worry about, and bottles of wine could only be purchased when the little one was off with her uncle satoru.

“no, i wasnt. i don't believe that’s come up in discussion before,” your dark haired lover turns his narrow gaze to the giggly little girl swaddled in your arms — her chubby cheeks and dark, curious eyes just peeking out of the fluffy duck-themed towel you’ve wrapped her in. bath time is usually after bed, but someone got into the paint pots at nursery school and managed to get blotches of blue streaked through her hair and under her fingernails. “care to elaborate sweetheart?”

suguru taps the wooden sauce spoon against the side of the pot and swipes his hands on a nearby tea towel before allowing them to rest on his hips, look of faux irritation settling on the contours of his face and slopes of his features. thin brows draw together like closed gates in the middle of his forehead — the expression earning airy light and squealed laughter from your baby girl.

“nuh uhhh! not my boy-fend!” she babbles her way through the big girl word, missing a few syllables here and there, but geto still grins with pride — happily leaning forward to press enthusiastic kisses to his little angel’s damp forehead. “no boy-fend papa!

bouncing your daughter slightly, you cock your hip out to hold her weight and cheekily roll your eyes. “such a daddy’s girl, lying to him already? he’ll let you get away with anything if you keep that up,”  though you muster up a pout to rival the toddler’s, the uncanny resemblance warming the cockles or your husband’s heart, your tone is playful and adoring — it’s lilt full of love for the baby girl you made together. you pinch her chubby cheek, waggling it from side to side as more of her childlike laughter tangles with the scent of pasta in the air.  “we bumped into the fujioka boy and his mother at the gates this morning, he held her hand all the way up to the classroom. it was quite cute. you had to be there, love.” 

“i’m sure,” he responds, gentle mirth and protectiveness swirling in dark framed eyes.

you relay the information to your husband as though it’s hot gossip fresh from the press, whispering over your dark-haired daughter’s head not so secretly. even with the hair and eyes to match suguru’s, she’s still just as much your carbon copy as she is his — he tends to say all of her spirit comes from you, not to mention the way she laughs and smiles.

shaking her head between you, both — your baby chimes in brightly. “noooo mama!! boys are gross, i don’ hold hands with boys.”

this time suguru manoeuvres to pinch her other chubby cheek, clicking his tongue as he does so. “not even papa?” he pretends to pout, crouching down with his hands on his knees to coo into her sweet little face. 

“nuhhh, papa isn’t gross!! papa is my favourite boy!” she quickly tacks on with a dribbly smile.

“that’s right. i’ll be the only boy in your life always, just you and i princess,” your husband reaffirms with a firm shake of his head and presses a promise in the form of a kiss to your daughter’s nose. her chubby little hands, still wet from bath time, smack either side of suguru’s face and keep him close — close enough for her to plant a soggy smooch onto his forehead affectionately. a wet kiss only a father could love. “that settles it, i’m no longer sharing my kisses. papa says no boyfriends until you’re ninety.”

once your two loves are done sharing their candied affections, you seat your daughter on the edge of the kitchen table to allow geto the room to finish up with dinner. the comforting symphony of baby babbles and kitchen utensils clanking and food boiling fills the steamy air, it makes you smile. it feels like home. “oh come on suguru, they’re only three. don’t you think it’s the tiniest bit adorable?” you say with a sing-songy voice, entertaining both your little one and her father.“they even share their animal crackers during break time and crayons when it’s time to colour, one of the supervisors told me.”

with his back now to you as he stirs through the pasta sauce one final time, you hardly miss the way suguru’s shoulders tense at the mention of the little boy your girl has taken a liking to. he wouldn’t dare frown about it in front of her, what upsets daddy upsets baby too. that’s why he’s always smiling for her, and you find the man’s subtle jealousy endearing. it’s always supposed to be suguru and his princess, with no room for anyone else ( aside from you, of course ) 

“nope, no boyfriends. no amount of cuteness can convince me otherwise.” voice falling tight and flat, suguru reaches into the cupboards for plates and bowls to dish up his lovingly prepared home cooked meal, slamming them into place at the table with a little less patience than before. 

the idea of some… little boy chasing after his daughter’s heart? over his dead body.

“boy-fends are gross!” but your daughter is forever a daddy’s girl, furrowing her brow and crossing her tiny arms in an act of defiance — supporting her papa’s cause. boyfriends are bad! 

fuelling her excitement and even more support for papa — food is served shortly by your husband, who plates up as best as he can with toddler safe dinnerware. you adjust your little girl into her high chair at the table, giggling to yourself softly when she cranes her neck to keep an eye on suguru. “does that mean papa’s gross? he’s technically mama’s boyfriend.”

“husband, love, there’s a difference.” 

three plates of hot, aromatic spaghetti are organised in a table — each a domestic reminder of the family suguru geto has been blessed with. in that moment, he thinks he would be happy if he spent the rest of his life as just the three of you. briefly his mind wonders to setting a fourth place at the table in a decade or so’s time, once his daughter truly is old enough to date. the very thought makes him feel ill. 

round, doe eyes dart between you and suguru as you take your seats either side of your darling daughter at the table — she mimics you both with fumbling little fingers that reach for her baby fork and concentrates as she attempts to repeat your husband’s words. “can i have a husbsband-love?”

you laugh and kiss her cheek, helping her to gather a bite of pasta on the full end of her fork. “husband. just husband, my love. make sure you blow on your food please!” she follows your instructions with a comical air, cheeks puffing and breath huffing while you explain why her father is a second away from blowing his top. “good girl. husband’s aren’t for babies, baby. and i think papa might not like it if you got one now.”

“if you got one ever!” suguru interjects, eyes narrowing while he fights with his lips to avoid a scowl. “the answer is still no, princess. no husbands and no boyfriends until papa is old, cold and in the ground.” 

now that your hands are free, you grab the nearest tea towel and wind it up in your grip — launching its tail end at geto as though to swat at  him. he jumps in surprise and your daughter shrieks in amusement as she begins babbling again. “don worry, papa!. fujioka is  no my boy-fend!!” she says over food in her mouth and happy tummy. geto wipes over her face again. she’ll definitely need another bath later. “hasegawa is!!”

the pair of you share a look and this time, you really think suguru might just throw in the towel. 

how could he compete with pre-school love and paint pots shared over playtime gossip? 

“two boyfriends? oh god, love… i think need some air.”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[banj0possum]

So… ah…

Gift! Take! Present!

CW: blood!

I’m in love with these goobers. Thank younsm for all you do!

Bonus? Some HCs that have been swishing in my empty empty noggin: (dunno where else to put them but here)

- Screw calls his treasures “Sparklies”. He also likes marbles. It’s hard for him to actually play, but he like the Sparklie. He has a big one that is his prized possession… but you can hold it if you want…

- I swear Ribs was big into Among Us or FNAF bc bro be venting. That’s all.

- In the “Bite HC” thing you said that the boys associate biting with eating/ their teeth are sharp, so I just thought of in Part 1 Soda is deadass trying to eat Reader with everyone standing there. But it’s in a funny haha way not in a scary way. My heart couldn’t take that.

- I HC that Bo drools. Not a lot, but more than the others. His gums are just out, poor guy.

- I was thinking about what the boys did before the apocalypse, so here are my silly dumb thoughts.

- Screw was a student, most definitely. Just an art or lit student scrimblo stumbling his way through college. (Also he likes Sanrio *cough*)

- As mentioned by you, Ribs is a party boy. I feel like he’s the type that did odd jobs. He;s all over Fiverr and Craigslist. Also he has no regards for savings. It’s is blessing in disguise he’s undead. No 401K to worry about.

- I feel like Soda worked at like a “fancy clothes rental” store or something to do with hospitality. I say that bc it was mentioned that he keeps his hair and clothes cleaner than the others. Although he could totally be like a VTuber or professional gooner for all ai know.

- Obvi Bo was conscripted into the military, but I could totally see him as a teacher. Dunno what age group tho.

Thank you for taking the time to read this far! Also don’t be afraid to cut so,e stuff out since ik it was long.

Love your work!! (qwq)✌️

akjhfikauvkhfnvujbghuhgb!! this is amazing !! :0000000

this is all canon now, i said so, its all canon

soda please share your hair routine sir please sir please share your hair-

[fellshish]

just felt like letting you know im makin my way through your spn bookmarks on ao3 and its saving my life 💚 do you have an ultimate-nothing-compares destiel faves from the bunch?

YES omg these are the fics that rewired my brain changed my life etc:

And this your living kiss (M, 56k): au where dean is a self deprecating former poet who used to write anonymously under the pen name jack allen. Now he’s finding his way back to loving poetry by taking a class at a college taught by professor novak… only he doesn’t know professor novak happens to be the number one jack allen scholar in the country. Amazing. Inspiring. I’ve reread it several times and it’s probably my favourite fic of all time

The cheapest room in the house (E, 89k): one of those fics whose writing i’m jealous of, it’s mind bogglingly good. And hot. The destiel grindr fic — cas downloads grindr and dean helps him. The rituals are SO intricate. But really, nothing i could say could do justice to how good this is.

Fenario (E, 47k): cas empty rescue fic. Certain paragraphs and scenes are just seared into my brain, amazing writing. I still think about “Cas’s legs give out and he pitches forward, falling the rest of the way into Dean’s lap in a mockery of a pieta” — that’s the point where i knew this fic was gonna become a fave

Right where you left me (E, 93k): cas comes back from the empty but it’s years later. He rings the doorbell and finds dean married. This fic was an event while it was still updating. Supremely well written and with an emotional maturity needed for the theme

Am I a man or am I a muppet (G, 7k): one of the funniest fics i’ve ever read. Dean wakes up as a muppet. Just roll with it! It’s crack, sure, but so good?? This inspired a scene in one of my gomens fics even

Burn this into your brains forever (E, 10k): to me this is an underrated fic for how funny it is. Fake dating between dean and garth but don’t worry, it’s a destiel fic

Half empty (M, 37k): more of a dean study. Reads like you’re dreaming and nothing makes sense. Dean is confused about everything. Kind of a mysterious vibe, excellent writing

There is rest for the wicked (G, 14k): sleepy, domestic dean. The destiel happens so…. Idk. Naturally. It’s a fic that really stays with you for a long time

Ninety one whiskey (E, 401k): one of thee destiel fics of all time. It’s famously a must-read and for good reason. A war fic, so quite heavy and not for everyone. But an absolute experience. I read the last few chapters in bed middle of the night tears streaming down my face. Simply iconic

A winter’s tale (T, 64k): this fic forever changed the way i see cas’ human arc on the show. Not super destiel-y but can be read that way. Again quite heavy. Northernsparrow is an excellent writer.

The dean winchester beat sheet (E, 144k): au where dean is in college and in complete and utter denial about his sexuality. So supremely funny. I will say this dean is not for everyone. But to me he is iconic and i think about certain scenes still. Forever changed the song i want to break free for me.

What has eight tentacles and isn’t allowed to eat pie? (T, 16k): basically uhhhh dean gets turned into an octopus. HEAR ME OUT. This fic will change you fundamentally as a person. It’s funny but also smart. A classic!

Maybe it really is the end (M, 2k): it’s short but there’s not a word out of place. Basically, belphegor taunts dean and cas while in the body of jack. It’s so good and so underrated. I think about it all the time

How a grocer watches dean pull his head out of his ass in seven days (E, 51k): destiel written from an outsider pov, a christian lady who’s easily scandalised and whose narrative voice is SO hilarious. One of the funniest fics i’ve ever read. Fake dating too!

[talesfrommedinastation]

My Redneck Neighbor Doug has watched The Bad Batch Season 3 opener:

LEEEEET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE!

This is more pithy than normal: Doug's been busy with work, as have I. But I'm determined to hear his thoughts on The Daddy Warcrimes 'n Company so here we go!

These were all via text messages, btw.

CW: Doug Doug's as you know Doug will do. Away!

---------------------------------------------------

Episode 1: 'Little Orphan Blondie's Shit Internship at The Museum of Science and Industry'

Poor Little Orphan Blondie, stuck in The Museum of Science and Industry in a shit summer job because they got bills to pay. Except they got rid of the dinosaurs and walk in heart and filled it with gross shit.

Hey look, they still got the coal mine exhibit! Man I miss Chicago.

(Doug, that museum has never had dinosaurs. “What, since when?”)

MUTANT JIMMERS EVERYWHERE! Aw, Little Orphan Blondie gave one her chicken nuggets! And it’s shy, aw, I hope it’s okay.

Poor Mutant Jimmers…she named her?! Swear to Christ Almighty if that dog gets Old Yeller’d I’ll just lose it. 

That freaky alien thing that ran the mall on the ocean looks sad, I bet she wishes she fell into the water and got eaten by a shark or something. I wish you did too, lady. 

The Sons of Robocop really are everywhere, they must be a cult or something. They look cool, I’d join, why not. Think they get 401ks?

Oh man, Daddy Warcrimes is down bad. Poor Daddy Warcrimes. Man, all my clone boys are stooped and sad…this ain’t good. 

At least Little Orphan Blondie can craft! Man, she should start selling those at the Museum of Science and Industry’s gift shop. Maybe Tarkin can bring one back for the grandchildren he’s not allowed to talk to since the restraining order was put in.

Oh, there’s Stepsister Beth, she seems on edge. Must’ve gotten divorced recently, don’t blame her ex, I bet she screamed at him for leaving cabinets open who knows. How do her eyeballs not hurt after wearing those dumb glasses all day?

Episode 2: 'Night Elves and Neverland Ranch'

The night elves from Warcraft invaded Star Wars and got horns or something and now they have a castle that looks like a boss level in Diablo IV or V or how many Diablo games they got now.

Now they yelling at people and throwing them in the basement today. Makes sense, gotta fight the orcs and stuff. Think they fight the orcs in the basement?

The Night Elf Horned Queen hired Daddy Rambo and Julio to get people, I guess they’re turning into Boba Fett or something. They got her son's horn back, guess that's good. Oh they need new paint jobs on their armor.

Do they end up in the basement in the Diablo Boss Level? No? And off they go! 

Daddy Rambo and Julio are in their homeland of FLORIDA! Hell yeah, SPACE FLORIDA! And they’re bringing the talking trashcan with them using straps! Go Julio go!  Yeah, boa vines, this is TOTALLY the Everglades! 

Escaped clone boys! Oh man! Shit, is Neverland Ranch in the jungle? Oh man–oh, they know what they’re doing. Good kids. Real good kids. Oh what happened to the rest of them? Oh Meat Muffin, this ain't good :(.

You know what? Them clone boys are smart, take it back, this ain’t Space Florida, this is Space Louisiana! Them baby boys gone get feral and run off into the bayou and live in the caves and now you know my origin story, Meat Muffin! 

If this was Florida they'd just end up working the late shift at Zaxby's and smoking rocks in the parking lot. We know better, we French and all.

I bet they’ve been living on nutria and half-empty chicken boxes from behind the gas stations. Resourceful scrappy kids and I can tell its making Daddy Rambo proud.

Oh holy SHIT, there go them vines! It's like the kudzu all over again, maybe this is LaFourche Parish?

See, them boys are definitely white trash, Mandalorian rednecks. Look at em, living in the woods and hijacking a plane, but they good kids, saving their brothers. Even saved the robot too. 

Man, all the feels, them poor little boys. What will they do now?  Oh, they're going to Space Daytona! Good, wait, I saw the trailer, doesn't the Empire invade it? THIS AIN'T GOOD MEAT MUFFIN!!!

Wait...where's Toaster Strudel and Rex?

Episode 3: 'Blondie Got a Gun'

Well here's the Emperor. He wants to be immortal. Gotta make that other movie make sense or something.

Where's Darth Vader? Is he running the government when the Emperor is running around giggling?

Don’t you DARE kill Mutant Jimmers, you damn droid. I hate that ugly assed stupid thing. It looks like its scarecrow daddy fucked a microwave and then left it enough money to go to Planned Parenthood but instead spent it on crack and there ya go.  

Oh shut your goddamned yap, Jimmy the Scientist. I bet he gloves that hand up because he keeps shoving it up his own ass and that's why he walks funny all the damn time.

The Emperor also has a Diablo IV or VIII boss level all to himself too at the Museum of Science and Industry. How many Diablo games are there, Meat Muffin?

YEAH, LITTLE ORPHAN BLONDIE! GIT ER DONE!!! They're out! Oh wow! There she goes with Daddy Warcrimes! Kill em all and let GOD SORT THEM OUT! That's my GIRL!!!!

Blondie’s got a gun 

Blondie’s got a gun

Her whole world's come undone

Shooting droids is FUN!

GO MUTANT JIMMERS GO!!!! 

YEAH BLONDIE DADDY WARCRIMES AND MUTANT JIMMERS!!!!!!

I AIN'T A BULLS FAN BUT REPEAT THE THREE PEAT! YEAH!!!!!!

....so when we gonna get Toaster Strudel and Rex? Next one? Where's my reg boys?!

-----------------

Tagging those who missed my Cajun neighbor. LOOKS LIKE REDNECK DOUG IS BACK ON THE MENU, BOYS!

@skellymom @amalthiaph @eyecandyeoz @cdblake1565 @sued134 @merkitty49 @supremechancellorrex @yeehawgeek @wrenkenstein @techs-stitches @deezlees @autistic-artistech @perfectlywingedcrusade @auntie-venom @megmca @thecoffeelorian

[aestariiwilderness]

Bad Batch -- Actually Probably Not Spoilers?

But Just In Case:

Like, for plot reasons, I see why they couldn't do it. But my biggest (and possibly the funniest) peeve I have with Bad Batch is this: Canonically, Tech is some kind of master hacker. Can forge chain codes after learning about them five seconds ago. Hacks battle droids -- presumably, you know, SECURED in some way -- on the regular. Masked a ship's signature or whatever. Calculates percentages of plans' successes on the fly while hanging upside down from a screechy flying reptile. Has zero fear (except when Omega is driving the Marauder or someone is doing the Wikipedia entry who isn't him) ("it's not affecting life support. We're fine"; riot racing; everything he's ever done). The moral heart of the Batch pre-Omega ("the systematic termination of the Jedi was a big one for me"; "I understand. I do not agree with you"; "of course we are a family"; "we have not always seen eye to eye with Crosshair but he is our brother and we do not leave our own behind"; but has no issue being pragmatic when it's called for (see: Cid, riot racing again, missions for Rex, interruptions thereof, etc.). Seriously. Wack job of a man. Crazy. Strict moral code arranged almost solely around his family that absolutely nobody sees coming and that, specifically, does NOT preclude massive destruction, property damage, and lethal measures. Ridiculous man. Homeschooled. Genetic Mandalorian. COMPETENT. (Usually.) Bona fide, literal, genetically-engineered test tube genius who is also biologically nine years old. Has no concept whatsoever of overkill. Point being -- he is EXACTLY the kind of person I would expect, once it sunk in that: 1. They are no longer Kaminoan/Republic property 2. They are, in fact, on the run with fam + new baby and - cranky but nonetheless beloved sniper bro who picked a terrible time to be stupid And 3. that "money" is now a thing they must Account For.... Give him two days to study finances, economy, and the various mafia; send him on a weekend trip to Nal Hutta to observe gangs, and hey presto -- the Hutts? overthrown in a year. Black Sun? Under new management. Pykes? A thing of the past. The Senate? Convening emergency sessions to discuss Where All the Money Has Gone. Palpatine's Secret Slush Fund #43? Drained. Hemlock's Science Budget? Currently funding the clone rebellion. ISB 401ks? Being used to pay someone to "retrieve" (read: kidnap) Crosshair from Rampart. Cad Bane's baby-stealing revenue? Currently outfitting the Marauder with gold plating. My point: WHY ISN'T TECH HACKING STAR WARS ATMs Story would have been over six episodes in. Tech would have foreclosed on the Palace; the Death Star would have fallen prey to insurance fraud; Omega would have grown up with more gowns than Padme. The Banking Clan bows to their new and, uh, eccentric overlords. Wrecker has thirteen new Z-6 cannons. Echo has thirteen natborn employees and is thoroughly enjoying himself. Hunter took an actual shower (still didn't get a new bandana). The Empire is turning over the empty coffers and shaking them out, wondering if they have rats. Mas Amedda is standing on street corners with an upturned hat. Crosshair is happily occupied with suing the Kaminoans for emotional damages. The end

[profoundbondfanfic]

hi there just wondering what is the angstiest fics you guys have collectively read? I’m in search for the angstiest angst to ever angst

Hey there, sorry for the delay, but here are a few of our fav angstiest fics!

A Complete Kingdom by komodobits [Explicit, 85k words] #major character death

The sea; it swallows me. It comes up to my knees and it swallows me. The boys owe Jody a few dozen favours, and so when her niece goes missing near an old fishing village on the coast of Maine, Dean, Sam, and a newly human Castiel agree to take the case on. They settle into an old abandoned lighthouse-keepers' cottage, and slowly the tide comes in. (post-s8)

Angels Don't Fear the Reaper by you-cant-spell-subtext-without (ayreisha) [Mature, 144k words] #angst with a happy ending

"When his eyes first open, there is nothing but darkness. Not the velvety, deep black of night, but the steely, thin murk of nothingness. Of cold. Of death. Of Death. Somehow, it feels like coming home."

Every Part of the Animal by Askance (doomcountry), komodobits [Mature, 47k words] #major character death

It’s their first case after the Trials, after Heaven has collapsed: playing back-up to another team of hunters taking out some werewolves in the mountains. It's a routine job, an easy job - at least until the radio goes silent. Sam, Dean, and Cas follow after, but the caves into which the hunters have vanished wind deeper and darker than they could have expected, and something is wrong. Cas can feel it. The Winchesters may not believe what he’s hearing, but there's something down here with them—and it's not the people they came here to find, and it's not the werewolves they've been tracking. It's something else, something older, something violent, and it knows they're here.

Grey by Valinde (Valyria) [Explicit, 65k words] #angst with a happy ending

In a world where people don't see in color until they find their true mate, the first thing Dean sees when he pulls himself out of his grave is the blue sky. When Castiel raised him from the Pit, he inadvertently claimed Dean as his mate.

Man in the Wilderness by OneHundredSuns [Explicit, 68k words] #angst with a happy ending

Dean Winchester is fresh out of Purgatory along with every other Tom, Dick and Wendigo that called the cesspool home. As the monsters lay waste to the Earth and eat anything they can get their hands on, Dean sets out to find his only remaining family so that they can hunker down and fight the assholes head on. He doesn’t mean to stumble upon Castiel Novak and his adorable twins in the middle of the apocalypse and he sure as hell doesn’t mean to offer them a ride to wherever they are trying to get to. But the world is a dangerous place now and he’s always been a sucker for blue eyes and cute kids. So he’ll help them out and just hope it doesn’t get him or them killed in the process.

Ninety One Whiskey by komodobits [Explicit, 401k words] #angst with a happy ending

In the spring of 1944, the 104th Medical Battalion of the United States Army is disbanded, and its men reassigned to various infantry companies in preparation for their invasion of occupied France. For First Lieutenant Novak, this is less than helpful, as he has so far met his platoon’s designated medic a grand total of twice, and has both times found Sergeant Winchester to be the optimum combination of reckless, arrogant, and downright insufferable so as to make cohesive platoon function near impossible. When the time comes to move out, however, Castiel has to reconcile himself to the fact that men are going to go down and trust that Dean Winchester may well be the only person who can put them back together again. WW2 ETO infantry AU.

Right Where You Left Me by outdean [Explicit, 93k words] #angst with a happy ending

Ten years after the empty swallows Cas up, it spits him right back out—but a lot can change in a decade. OR The "Cas comes back from the empty to find that Dean is married" fic.

The Benjamin Franklin Key-and-Kite Experiment by beerenee [Explicit, 122k words] #angst with a happy ending

“Thank you for stopping by, Dean,” Emmanuel says, holding out the jacket. “I hope to see you in church on Sunday.” The tips of Dean’s fingers accidentally brush over the back of Emmanuel’s hand when he reaches for the jacket. “Probably not,” Dean laughs as he pulls Dad’s jacket around him. “Like I said before, I’m not exactly a believer. You?” Emmanuel doesn’t answer immediately. Then, without really looking at Dean (more like looking through him,) he whispers, “I will be.” Or 1.12 but Dean's faith healer is Emmanuel!Cas

the inexhaustible silence of houses by Askance (doomcountry) [Teen, 31k words] #unhappy ending

Almost two years after the world doesn't end, Castiel falls from grace—and loses his voice in the process. It is the impetus for confession and change; before long, he is settling into a loving relationship with Dean, the Winchesters are tired, and hunting for a place to land has taken precedence to hunting anything else. Dean and Castiel fall in love with the strange little house on the end of Swallowtail Drive, and for a little while life is as it should be—sweet, affectionate, and beginning afresh. But more and more Castiel sees and hears things in the house that beg the question of whether or not a place itself can be alive. The walls and rooms seem to shift and grow and breathe, and one night, Dean comes home from a hunt changed in a way that Castiel cannot explain. In the months that follow, their domestic bliss takes turns for the dark and sour, and the confusion of their circumstances will ultimately test everything Castiel knows about the man he loves, and everything he believes to be true.

The walk by Persephoneshadow [Explicit, 196k words] #angst with a happy ending

Dean's been living on the streets and turning tricks for a while. Most of the time clients just find him. After a job goes wrong he goes looking for work and finds more than he expected with a married man of faith with blue eyes and a trench coat.

To build a Home by intothesilentland [Mature, 383k words] #angst with a happy ending

Twenty-three years of head-over-heels, devastating devotion and love, love, love for the man with bright eyes and dark hair. Fourteen years of friends, best friends, of always together. One moment of rejection. Nine years of apart. Nine years of heartbreak, nine years of continents away, of not speaking, of no acknowledgement, no interaction, no closure, no peace. No happiness. Nine years of Dean’s life entering motions, going through them, constant, cold and mechanic, like clockwork. Nine years of alone. God. Nine years. A lot has changed. And yet Dean still loves Cas just the same. Even if his heart hurts all kinds of different. On the day of Jimmy Novak’s funeral, Dean sees Cas for the first time in nine years. He adored Castiel the moment he met him, at only four years old. But after fourteen years of friendship destroyed by one moment of heartbreak, and after nine years of silence, Dean is convinced Cas will want nothing to do with him. And it’s killing him.

Twist and Shout by gabriel, standbyme [Explicit, 97k words] #major character death

What begins as a transforming love between Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak in the summer of 1965 quickly derails into something far more tumultuous when Dean is drafted in the Vietnam War. Though the two both voice their relationship is one where saying goodbye is never a real truth, their story becomes fraught with the tragedy of circumstance. In an era where homosexuality was especially vulnerable, Twist and Shout is the story of the love transcending time, returning over and over in its many forms, as faithful as the sea.

What Is Tomorrow Without You by sobsicles [Explicit, 93k words] #angst with a happy ending

Cas is dead, and Dean is living through hell all over again. Experiencing hell as he'd first lived it, Dean aches for peace. When Jack enters his life, it only brings him a purpose. A mission for revenge sends Dean spiraling out of control as Jack does everything in his power to help Dean, going as far as to using his power to let Dean visit Cas where he resides after death. But when Dean depends on these visits and learns a few things about how he truly feels for Cas, the line between what's real and what's not starts to blur. Dealing with grief and his need for revenge, Dean struggles to find a way to get his family back together while also coming to grips that he might have to find a place in a world without Cas in it. Fortunately, Cas comes back, and Dean has to learn to navigate through the life he'd been wanting. But things aren't quite what they seem as their relationship blooms, and Dean realizes he's the reason Cas is slowly changing, and not for the better.

What Used to be Mine by someonetoanyone [Explicit, 48k words] #angst with a happy ending

“There is…” he starts; he licks his lips and glances away; his fingers twitch and fiddle, “... there is one thing she's afraid of. There's one thing strong enough to stop her.” That sounds too good to be true, so Dean waits for the other shoe to drop. It doesn’t take long. Cas at least has the wherewithal to look Dean in the eyes when he says, “when Jack was dying, I made a deal to save him.” ___ a terrible, evil AU that posits; what if the divorce arc was even worse, what if Dean never apologized in Purgatory, and what if Cas internalized all of that, making his ultimate confession less confident, though no less heartfelt, and he died thinking Dean hated him?

You Can Keep Holding On by NorthernSparrow [Explicit, 352k words] #angst with a happy ending

Hiatus fic set after the S11 finale. Dean's alive, Sam's alive, they're going to get Cas from wherever he got zapped to, and everything's finally gonna be all right. Dean's on top of the world. A little voice in the back of his head is whispering "It's never that easy," but Dean ignores it.

[lonepantheress]

♡ txt as summer jobs

pairing: ot5!txt

genre: crack

warnings: completely unserious.

a/n: my inspiration? work has been kicking my ass and i thought it'd be funny if a shitty summer job kicked their ass too! will be updating with a REAL FIC so soon

Yeonjun

Works everywhere and is somehow always broke

It starts to freak you out

Like you see him as your cashier getting ice cream

And then he’s stocking shelves at the store and you’re like, “Oh, that’s weird..”

And then he’s your waiter at a restaurant

And you’re like, “?????”

He’s all cute and nice and hates his job(s) and is like, “I’m saving for a car!”

But he can blow through a paycheck in like a week. 

If he’s your coworker omg I could imagine him being the coolest person ever.

Willing to pick up shifts, is fun to talk to when it isn’t busy, and gets shit done when it is.

I don’t see him being like the manager type, but the type that all the managers love even when he’s being super lazy just because he’s charming.

Soobin

Really sweet barista at Starbucks 

The type that you run and tell your friends about after you see him because he’s so attractive and so nice

He hates his job though.

I could see him not being a manager but instead being a “team leader” which is basically a manager in training wheels.

Always stressed. Always saying, “I think I’m going to quit soon”

His ass is NOT quitting soon

Like- if he quit, his coworkers would probably cry

Constantly cleaning because he’s constantly knocking things over.

Any embarrassing customer experience? He can safely say he’s had it

Really good at saving his money well

Like… suspiciously good.

Beomgyu

Works at like Forever 21 or something

And using “work” here loosely because he never shows up

How he isn’t fired a month in? Who knows.

A stickler for his job title too

“Oh, so you’re like a cashier at-”

“I’m actually a style consultant.”

He’s just a cashier with a fancy name.

He will hide in between clothing racks and play on his phone or chit-chat with someone else

And if he’s on register, he’s really not paying attention to his surroundings

“Hi, are you able to check me out?”

“What..”

“Like, can I pay here?”

“OH, YES, RIGHT! I WORK HERE!”

Will tell customers all the workarounds and codes and coupons they can stack without them even having to ask.

His giving out company secrets will probably get him fired before him never doing his job.

Taehyun

Works at some fast food spot and wins management over in like a week.

So efficient, so smart, so practical, he gets promoted in record time

the embodiment of this meme I'm sorry

He’s genuinely very good at his job and not necessarily proud of it, just good at it.

And he’s only so good because he uses common sense.

The old ladies that come in love him and are like, “You remind me of someone I knew when I was in high school!”

Will not cover any shifts for the LIFE of him, he would actually prefer you call out before asking him to cover your shift for you

He’d also be so annoying to couponers. It’d basically become a battle of who knows the company policy better

GOD at saving money. Has a 401k and retirement and college fund.

Kai

Game stop employee

Like if you’re buying a game that he knows, you’re stuck for another half hour listening to him talk about it

He gets in trouble for stashing away things that get sold out quickly for himself

He’s actually so sweet to the nerdy little kids in the store

But he also would tell their parents, “This game has a lot of violence and gore btw!!!!!” before they buy it for their kid

As a coworker would have the most fucked up inconsistent schedule

Shows up every day for 2 weeks in a row

And then disappears

And then shows up every day again and you’re like “hello???”

Would initiate the oddest small talk ever while the store is empty

“Do you ever wonder if a little pebble in your shoe is actually your toe rolling around?”

“No….”

“Yeah, me neither.”

[florencemtrash]

The Wisp Between Worlds

CHAPTER ONE: BLACK WATERS

Acotar fanfic/rewrite. Inner Circle x OC. Eventual Azriel x OC.

Summary: Have you ever wondered what you would do (and do differently) if you found yourself trapped in the fantasy world of your dreams? For Nora, this fantasy of hers is about to play out when she finds herself portaled away to the Moral Lands south of Prythian. But all is not as it seems. Feyre Archeron is missing and the deadline to break Amarantha’s curse draws near. Who will save Prythian now?

Warnings: None for this chapter that I can think of, but expect angst, death, and sadness in the future.

Masterlist

________________

She needed to get outside. Callahan Barge was too tall, too sweaty, and too business casual for the kind of night she wanted to be having. Makeup swam down her skin cutting brilliant blue rivers down the tan of her cheeks. When she’d last caught a look at herself in the dusty bathroom mirror she’d been shocked and intrigued at the wide, kohl-lined eyes that stared out from beneath the glitter and paint. Lauren had decked her out in a skimpy, shimmering black dress, fish-net stockings, and the accompanying makeup to “let her live out her party fairy fantasies.” After all, she deserved to dress the part for her first Halloween as a 21-year-old. But that well-deserved fantasy took a hit when Callahan, cosplaying as an aspiring accountant (as per usual), started flirting with her at the bar.  

“Why don’t I buy you a drink?” his perfect white teeth gleamed in the UV light of the club glowing almost as brightly as the white button-down shirt he wore.

“I’ve got one already.” She stared directly in his eyes, taking a sip of the fruity mocktail the bartender had shaken up for her. He eyed the drink in her hands and she raised her eyebrow, daring him to make a comment. She was the designated driver for the night and the strongest liquid currently sloshing around in her cup was lemonade, but he didn’t need to know that.

“A second drink then?”

“No.”

He fiddled with his wrist watch, visibly flustered. “So about your thesis-” He began, desperately trying to spark a conversation.

“I have to go find my friends.”

“Oh right,” he pushed back his golden waves, “well hey, if you’re free after-”

Nora ducked behind the body of a passing security guard who’d been alerted to the sound of retching towards the right of the bar. Slipping nimbly through the crowd she tried to ignore the prodding of elbows and the occasional misplaced grinding of hips. Callahan was a nice guy, the kind that would have a position at Goldman Sachs by January and a 401k set up by May. The problem was he didn’t seem to understand why being randomly partnered with Nora for a creative writing assignment was enough grounds for a relationship. 

Fuck this. Nora thought to herself after five minutes of circling the lower and upper levels of the club. It would be impossible to find Lauren and Garett in this crowd and calling was pointless. The music raged from the speakers so loudly she could feel the bass rattling her bones.

She made her way towards the back doors, pressing against the sticky handle and sighing when the rush of cold, autumn air whisked the moisture from her skin. The wind carried the scent of the sea across the boardwalk. She breathed it in, having forgotten what air smelled like when it hadn’t been circulated through hundreds of drunken, jerking bodies. 

I’ll be outside for a bit. Let me know when you guys are ready to leave. 

With a whoosh the message was sent and she tucked the phone back into her pocket, wrapped her arms around herself, and made her way down to the pier. 

Aside from the handful of people smoking around the lamp post’s pool of light and the couple grappling at one another on a bench, the pier was empty. Nora kept her head down to give them all their privacy and walked to the edge, staring out at the inky black waters. She couldn’t see three feet past where the last lamp post feebly flickered, but she heard the licking of waves against the rocks, growling and slurping like some hungry creature.

Salt opened up her airways, leaving its distinct taste in her mouth and a faint burn in her lungs. It was in moments like this where she let herself wonder, truly wonder, about what would happen if she simply stepped over the edge and let herself get swallowed up.

You’d probably break your legs against the rocks you idiot. 

The thought of flailing about in the cold waters waiting for someone like Callahan to fish her out like a wet rat made her cringe.

I’d never actually do it. Stupid Freudian death drive.

It was just something she wondered about. What if there was something that was waiting for her? What if she was just wasting time waiting for the big thing to come along?

And what would that big thing be? 

Who knows.

And if it never comes?

Shut it.

Nora scolded her midnight thoughts. This was supposed to be a night of mindless fun and dancing and here she was standing alone in the cold being philosophical. But just as she turned away from the water a gust of wind brushed up against her back. No, not the wind… something else. A presence hovered over her shoulder, calming but unfamiliar as it traced down her spine. 

She froze, too scared to scream and too curious to move. Squinting her eyes she couldn’t make out any figures on the boardwalk or along the pier. She was alone.

Before she could make the executive decision to start sprinting back to the club, she heard it. Faint whispers curled around her ears, wrapping her in phantom arms until she could no longer feel the chill. Through the dozens of voices that called out to her in a mess of sounds and unintelligible words, one stood out. 

Low and silky and sensitive it asked, Where are you? Tell me where you are. Please.

Nora blinked.

The boardwalk faded away from her. She could still catch the faint outlines of the lamp post and railings, but more concretely she saw a room. Thick black curtains drifted along some invisible wind framing a brilliant city beyond that glowed like a thousand candles. The night sky was so crisp and clear she could make out every star.

She blinked again, readjusted her contacts, and it was gone. She was still on the pier alone and her vulnerability sent a shiver down her spine. 

The presence remained with her, breathing down her neck. She still couldn’t decide if she was afraid or not.

Wait… Run. RUN! The voice commanded her, barely a whisper in her ear despite the urgency of its words. 

Somewhere in the water far beyond where the light could reach, she felt a stirring, like the earth was rolling onto its side beneath her feet. A loud, low moan pulsed through the air and the pier’s wooden beams groaned in turn, protesting whatever force had begun to bend and snap them like toothpicks. 

Nora turned on her heels and started to run.

Fifty meters later and she was cursing her body, feeling the warmth in her legs build as she forced them to go faster. Breathe along to your favorite song, Nora. Dad had said that to her before every cross country race in high school. She was a shit runner then and she was a shit runner now. 

God I wish I kept running in college.

Another beam closer to her broke with a scream and Nora was thrown to the ground, landing awkwardly on stinging hands and knees as the water split open and began swallowing the pier. Like a beast it chomped at the wood, slurping the contents down into its throat. She dared a glance behind her and gasped as cracks formed along the surface of the ocean, blue-white light spilling outward. 

Scrambling to her feet she continued to run feeling the ground beneath her tilt further and further backward. The cracks deepened, crashing against wood. With a final sigh the last of the beams beneath her feet gave away, sinking into the mouth of the blue chasm below.

Nora screamed, lunging to the side to avoid the spear of wood that erupted by her legs. Cold water drenched her clothes, weighing her down as she was plunged into the frothy, glowing water. 

The pier had snapped in two. 

What are you doing you fucking idiot? Scream. She thought to herself. But even though she screamed, first in fear and then in frustration, no one heard her.

Nora gasped as the blue light finally reached her, wrapping around her body. She wished she had the mind to appreciate its beauty, but all she could think about was the terror that fueled her muscles to keep swimming, even as the current dragged her further down.

“HELP!” 

She begged anyone who might still be on the pier. She prayed to God, pleaded with the voice that had tried to warn her. 

No one’s coming to help. No one could help even if they wanted to.

Nora looked back, helpless as the water consumed her.

When her body had sunk beneath the depths - deeper than anyone could fathom - the portal sealed itself and there was nothing left but the ruined pier and the silent lamp posts as witnesses.

________________

Author’s Note: Hi! As the summary already mentions, this is going to be an acotar rewrite with an OC that’s really just a cooler, more competent version of myself that I like to insert into every book I read. It’s been over a year since I finished reading the main trilogy so apologies if I don’t get the plot/plot elements exactly right (but also I might change the plot to better suit the story). I don’t know how many chapters this will be yet, but I have a small chunk of it already written and am hoping to get some regular posting schedule worked out. Thanks for reading this little blurb and I hope you enjoy! 

[batslime]

Hi guys it’s been a while since I’ve made one of these but this is Vicki and she owns the ONE and ONLY lesbian bar/ restaurant in Florida, The Lady’s Room, and it’s at risk of closing. She’s tried getting a loan but the banks are refusing despite her good credit. I’ve made a few posts like these that got some great traction, I would love to see Vicki get the support she needs too 🙏🏼

Please consider donating to her GoFundMe!

Currently she’s at $12,203 of her $100k goal (Tuesday April 18, 2023).

Please spread! If you can’t donate atm the next best thing is to boost.

Video transcription under cut

VIDEO TRANSCRIPTION:

Vicki, a butch lesbian, wearing a black jersey sporting rainbow stripes and embroidery reading “love is love” across the left breast, is leaning against a counter with her tattooed arms crossed. A pride flag hangs behind her in what is presumably her bar. The piercings on her face ride the knit of her concerned brow as she speaks. “A month, maybe two, then it’s on the market. I don’t have a choice; I’ve sold all my properties, I’ve emptied my 401k; I’ve tried banks, I’ve tried finance companies…”

“I went in, I said, you know, I wanna take out a loan to invest in my bar, and they said, we can’t do it. Okay, I have 7+ credit score, I own my cars. I own my home… what the Hell.”

“They won’t touch it. I don’t know if it’s because it’s a lesbian bar, but that’s what it felt like.”

The caption “We have one month to save Florida’s only lesbian bar!” is overlaid the video for its duration.

End transcription.

(This is the first time I’ve written a video transcription, I tried to keep in mind what I would find helpful but please lmk what I could do better if you have any suggestions)

[erebusvincent]

I read yesterday that Donald Trump wants more control over the Fed of re-elected, and I don’t know about that.

He’s not a smart man. He has a shocking lack of basic knowledge about the world. There is no way he understands the intricacies of the Fed, or Econ 101, well enough to get involved with its functioning. That’s not a guy who comprehends econometrics or statistics. I doubt he has a firm grasp of rudimentary finance either.

Something else to consider about him is that he never sees economic indicators for what they mean for the American people, only how they look for him. Jobs numbers are about him, not about our ability to find gainful employment and support ourselves. The stock market is about him, not about our stock portfolios and 401k’s (and hence retirement security.) Interest rates are about him, not about the cost of money for us.

All in all, the dude’s just lame. Sure he’s weird as Hell, but he’s also cringe. No one in New York has ever been impressed by him. He’s only ever conned the yokels. Unfortunately, we have a lot of yokels.

What has he done with his life that should impress the rest of us? Hosted a reality show someone else directed and produced? Made money in real estate? I would have made a buck or two if my dad had given me money to buy empty lots in New York back in the seventies too. And when he’s attempted to do his own projects, he’s been shockingly unsuccessful. He ran an airline into the ground that was a guaranteed money maker. He actually failed at running a casino. That isn’t even possible.

Anyway, what a loser. I’m still angry enough to vote for him, but he’s not exactly a get for the country.

[manufactoredxbyxdesign]

" Hey! Trenchcoat! " Oh god, she's back. Doe's voice precedes her presence, echoing through the empty hallways of R.P.D. in tandem with the light thuds of her footsteps. 

Doesn't this survivor have better things to do? Scratch that, probably not, all things considered. Pathetic as it may sound, the Entity hasn't exactly outfitted the Realm with much in the way of entertainment outside of each other and the trials. Really, would it kill Her to make a playground or something? It might save the killers a bit of annoyance. 

" There you are! The others said I'll find you here," Traitors. Still, at least on the surface, Doe's expression seemed to be anything but malicious. No, the smugness that Wesker had previously witnessed throughout their many brief interactions was all but absent and, with it, any sense of playfulness gone. She seemed sheepish, if not outright nervous. 

" Could you be honest with me for a second?" A dangerous request, at least where Wesker is considered. She seems aware of this, to an extent, not holding eye-contact, or eye-to-sunglasses contact in their case, for more than a second. " You know the big blue guy, lots of tentacles, looks a bit like you— those things that follow him around. The Shamblers, are those actually... human? " Her voice cuts off on a high note, uncertain in her words, at least if the peak of her eyebrows is any indication. " Like people-human? Walking around, news watching, having a day job and 401K— family-type people? Not test-tube people." 

Turning her focus down to her hands, she starts wringing them roughly, her skin turning an enflamed red where her nails scratched. 

" There's this new guy at the campfire. He's been telling us stories about the world he came from, and the blue guy and I—" her voice shrinks further, sounding uncharacteristically small. " I'm not entirely sure what to think about it— I figured you'd know about it,"

The instant he hears that voice a loud sigh escapes his lips. Without even turning around he knows exactly who it is that has decided to scamper in to disrupt his peace this afternoon.

He refrains from commenting on her revelations - though he wonders if the ones that sent her might have done it out of malice instead of genuine kindness. Is it possible to direct one to the lair of a monster and have it be kind? He considers it like a riddle, momentarily distracted as she speaks in front of him.

"You are referring to Nemesis T-Type." He bluntly retorts, knowing by about halfway through her creative description which of the killers she is attempting to describe.

"He is a T-103 Tyrant - meaning that he was developed to be an bio-organic weapon in the world I came from. The viral strain he inflicts upon you in the trials is the T-Viral strain. Typically, the "shamblers" as you call them would be a result of that infection. As the strain can result in infected subjects reanimating or mutating... Though it appears that The Entity limits him to controlling only a the select few that are summoned in trials."

A small scoff cuts through his words at that. As if he finds the limitation almost childish in a way.

"I do not know if they were people previously - though it is quite possible. There was an outbreak of that particular strain in Racoon City many years ago. Leaving opportunity for The Entity to collect them for her purposes."

The corner of his mouth twitches. Another at the campfire? It felt like every other month someone new was dragged in.

"Does this "new" survivor have a name?"

[slow-writer]

Life is Incredibly Hard (A Rant)

This entry has nothing to do with pop culture; it's more about the struggles I'm facing these days. So if you're not looking for something like that, scroll on. I won't mind.

My husband and I have been fine financially for the majority of our time together (just about 14 years now). We've had to move for work a couple times which severely depleted our savings each time, but we were able to buy a small house in 2022. And that's when everything went to hell.

In June of 2023, my husband was laid off. This was just after we had to replace our AC unit, and just before our roof had to be replaced (this was a mandatory requirement in order to keep our home insurance). The AC, which cost about $9,000 to replace, we're making monthly payments on. Our electricity went wonky in July, and loose wiring and a faulty breaker box had to be repaired for about $3,000. The roof had to be fully paid off according to our insurance by the September deadline, which was approximately $15,000. Oh, and during this time, we'd had free solar panels installed to help with the electricity bills, and when we told them that we had to have the roof replaced before the install, they said there'd be no cost to us. When it came time to actually take the panels down for the replacement, it suddenly cost just under $2,000 to remove them, and the same cost to reinstall them after the roof was done. I was furious, but we've dealt with it.

We had just moved from Tennessee to Florida, which was a large expense as it was, combined with the purchase of the house. Even my savings had been squeezed down almost as far as it could go at that point.

My husband has been looking for jobs and actively applying to jobs in almost every field every day since 2 weeks before his official lay off date. After a month of not even receiving interviews for any, we knew this was going to get bad. So, we borrowed money from his brother to pay for the roof and not have to worry about it. We will pay him back eventually, but he's aware of how strapped we are.

Last year was rough as it was, because his family was suffering from an impending loss. A family member was ill, and it looked like she wouldn't make it to the end of the year, so my husband had to travel up north to stay with them and help out where he could. He was gone for weeks, and only used our credit card to pay for anything. He came back for a little while when it looked like she might survive after all. At that time, with all the money we were hemorrhaging, we liquidated one of his 401k accounts.

I got a promotion in August, but I'm still making under $50k a year. Before taxes.

In November, his family member did pass, and we went up for the funeral, which was not cheap. Since then, we've been living off what I make (when I could pick up overtime) and his 401k money. We've been getting by.

But now, here we are, with July looming, and my husband has still not gotten a new job. His brother's money is gone. The 401k money is gone. His own debit account was shut down last year after it sat empty for who knows how long. Our mortgage payments (which include insurance and taxes) jumped almost $500 a month due to a new taxing structure and new insurance companies (because homeowner's insurance in Florida has gone full on predatory at this point).

In addition to all this, my company has been going through a merger for the last 6+ months, and no one can tell us how the organization will look at the end of it, who's staying, who's being moved to different departments, or if we'll even have jobs in 3 months. And our overtime has been cancelled as of last week. But just keep smiling, right? Oh, and there are specific states my company has forbidden their employees from working within. Should worse come to worst and we have to move out of Florida, all of the states that we would even consider living in (ones with family, friends, or potential jobs for him) are all part of those no-go states, so I would be out of a job, and screwed.

I fear we're going to lose this house. I fear we're going to have to move again and sell so many of the things we've accumulated. I fear for our 2 cats. I fear for our health.

I've posted on TikTok before about our issues, way before they got this bad, and there were people asking for my PayPal or Venmo to offer money, but I felt bad accepting the help. Instead, I directed them to my books, or the merch that I offer. (To be fair, no one buys my merch or my books all that much. I've had exactly 1 sale of stickers, which netted a whopping $2 profit that I can't even claim because it's too low, and the average I make on my books in a month is less than $3.) I'd rather that people get something in return for the money they pay me. But now, I just don't think I can continue with that line of thought. I don't want to start a Go Fund Me, but I'm not even sure what other options we have.

[alyjojo]

May 😽 2023 Monthly - Capricorn

Whole of your energy: 2 Pentacles

Your meditation was a giant roller coaster, extremely high and FAST, and the theme park you were in was pretty empty. You kept riding it over and over again, with so much enthusiasm. After every ride, I’d ask “are you okay?” and you’d thumbs up and ride it again with just as much excitement. After about 10 times, you were feeling pretty ill, you had people hyping you up to do it again and you just couldn’t take it anymore. Timing, Intuition, Death, 10 Swords rev and 10 Cups are all endings. You already know something is ending, or has ended, and you’re weighing your options for what will make your family happy, the best choice for everyone involved, whatever 10 Cups is for you. The happiest outcome.

What’s going on in May:

Ace of Wands:

This is a new beginning that makes you feel inspired & passionate towards taking action, probably out of spite, because you’re not getting the cooperation you need. Everything is on your shoulders, probably at work. If you haven’t already lost a job, it’s like your goal in life is becoming finding something better than wherever you’re at now. The person in charge is a dominating & controlling authoritarian type that oversteps his bounds and doesn’t give you any of the respect (or help) you deserve. You’re turning plans and goals over in your mind for what you intend to do about it. You’re not the only person you have to think about though, for many of you. If it were just you, there’s probably no doubt you’d act more hastily or impulsively, but some of you have families to care for. Others just have family members, siblings, parents, etc., and they don’t want to just skip town away from that. You’re tempted though. Some of you don’t have the money to live wherever your family lives, or something like that. Or your job keeps you distant, maybe literally. Money & work are your biggest issues.

The Chariot:

Your GOAL. The plan. The willpower towards an action you absolutely refuse to continue putting up with. The Chariot cannot be stopped, it’s pure ambition overcoming any obstacles in your path. That’s the plan. Could involve travel. This is for a Capricorn that…if you haven’t lost your job due to other things already, then your goal is to end this one. You are planning for the end, currently at a crossroads on how best to do this.

Death:

The end. The problem with this ending is it was probably something very stable, it keeps you feeling secure about where money is coming from, when, insurance, 401ks or whatever yours offers, I get it’s not the worst benefits. But with King of Pentacles rev, and 2 Pentacles to describe your energy, you could be milking yourself dry for this place. Working overtime, double time, not even living your life, maybe not even seeing your family, because you just live to work. And that makes you sad, that’s what you want to end. Not being on top of your financials also makes you feel very sad, and regretful, especially if you’ve lost a job that was not your doing. For those with that story, you may be having to move in with family, 4 Wands can be “homecoming”. For most I get this is just a planning stage and no action has been taken yet, you’re the one ending the situation so you’re the one in charge of it. 5 Cups shows your focus on everything you don’t have, most of it being money related. Maybe missing out on family time.

Temperance:

You’re being very patient, balanced, taking your time and not rushing anything because this is a big decision for you. If you’ve lost a job outside of your control, it’s taking time to hear anything back, or find another opportunity somewhere else. The same applies for those in planning mode, you’re just not finding what you’re looking for. Not yet. But you’re not panicking, you’re patiently trying to weave this situation with that one to come up with the best outcome for you and everyone else.

10 Swords rev:

If you had planned to move in with family, you’re not being given something. Help, most likely. Whoever you’re dealing with may not be able to afford things as much as you can’t. Plans are not working out how you’d hoped. Interviews aren’t being offered like you’d hoped. The outcome for this is no action being taken because you’re not getting the right option for you, even though this is something you’re looking for, probably daily. Weekly. Something like that. You’re ready for this cycle of work work work work - and not having any money, or anything extra anyway, to end. Some of you could be forced to move, and that’s possibly what’s not working out in the plan you’re putting together. You’re not getting any of the cooperation you need. Your Oracle cards begin with Timing, and Temperance shows a need for patience. Not yet, but eventually things will start moving how you need/want them to. For now, just coast along and try to keep your balance in this situation, because things are out of your control.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Capricorn, Aries, Virgo, Scorpio, Taurus & Sagittarius

Oracles: ✨

73 Timing

If you are in the creative flow you feel everything flowing together in Divine Order.

55 Intuition

Allow the limitless power of your unconscious mind to answer your problem by using symbols, memories, and hunches.

6 Habits

Examine habits that may impede the pathways to your goals and encourage beneficial ones.

We enter into May as:

Topaz 💛

“If I seek peace, I must embrace my fears.”

Topaz speaks: “To be enlightened is to realize that to gain peace, fear in the heart must be faced.” If Topaz has come to you, he is telling you that it is time to stop talking about what you intend on doing. You must just do it. Things happen for us when we take action, which is the only way to break through what is holding us back. The change that is called for here is surrender, which is an action in itself. No great tasks were ever achieved easily. Remember we do a lot to avoid what we feel will hurt us; you must understand that the pain will recede if you face your fears, allowing you to walk through to the other side. Topaz whispers “Pray for guidance and you will be assisted.” Do not despair, for if Topaz has come to you, relief awaits. By facing your fears, peace and enlightenment will be your reward. That is the gift. All you need to do is ask.

What is to be learned in May:

Penelope and Pickle 🥒:

“Grief...is honoring a love lost.”

Grief is a natural part of life. We must always remember to love those around us as fully as we can in the moments we have them. Grief is only love, with no place to go. This may be calling you to understand your own or someone else’s grief. Loss is personal, it comes out different in each individual. Love always comes with the risk of loss, but is important to remember that we valued a friend. Penelope & Pickle knew the value in their relationship, and it’s sad they lost each other, but the fact this love ever existed is what helps us find the strength to love again. All cycles must be completed to start over. If you choose to honor your pain, and allow all of the mourning to come, it will be life changing.

Green may be a lucky color 💚

[thebartleyeffect]

My neighbor across the street, Maxwell, breaks my balls every time that subject comes up. He's like...

"What's the big deal? You can't toss a couple items into a bag, swipe your card and leave? You're telling me that you're going to stand there in line behind four other people for the next 20 minutes who are doing their monthly groceries just so you can have a cashier ring you out?"

(We're high as fuck while we're having this conversation, by the way)

And I say to him, "Abso-GODDAMN-lutely I will! Look - I'll be perfectly happy to bag my own groceries and check myself out, but I want two - wait - make that FIVE weeks of vacation, paid holidays, overtime if it's required, and I want full health and dental benefits. And a pension, but I'll settle for a 401k."

See what's happening here? He's cranked me up and now I'm on a roll.

"When I go to a supermarket and some little girl who's young enough to be my granddaughter cheerfully points me in the direction of self-checkout, she doesn't know it yet but her day is about to get very weird.

I have told them at least three times now, different girls mind you, that I don't work for them. I am not an employee. I am a customer. I pushed my carriage around and I loaded it up all by myself, but when it comes time to check out, that's THEIR job, not mine. I DO NOT work for them.

Only two weeks ago, I went to the customer service counter to ask them to open up some more registers. The kid behind the customer service counter was about 25 and thought he was all that. He probably ties his hair up into a man bun when he's not at work.

He says to me, "Well, we COULD open up some more, but I don't know if we have anybody available right now."

So I give it right back to him, because I can tell by his demeanor he just wants me to fuck off.

"Are you the manager?", I ask him, making hard eye contact, so he can feel the hate leaping from my eyes into his soul like heat lightning on a hot summer night. I've cornered him and he knows it. Suddenly, he looks very uncomfortable.

"I don't DO self checkout", I tell him evenly, lasering him with my gaze. "I'm the customer here, I don't work for you. And then I give him the vacation/overtime/benefits/401k treatment, and by now he's wishing he had taken a job washing cars.

I wrap up my little spiel by telling him that the lines are starting to wind around the block and that, as his customer, I am not willing to wait. I remind him that there are several other supermarkets I can shop at and I will leave my carriage full of groceries right there in front of his counter, and walk out of the store and never come back, if paging some people to the front of the store to man the cash registers is that big of a deal for him.

So he leans into the microphone and, in a defeated voice, broadcasts on the store's PA system: "I need all available cashiers to the front of the store, please."

I smile and thank him and wish him a good evening and watch with satisfaction as the "Lane Open" lights begin to flicker on, one after the other, leaving me with no less than three empty lanes to choose from.

Now THAT'S a story I'll be telling for a while around the campfire.

😆