#just two cents a day can change this man’s life

[grilledcheese-savage]

Trying to come up with the page layout for the future evil Jay prequel but ended up just drawing this

He is tired of paperwork 😔

[onewingeddove444]

★How the bachelors would react if they accidentally made you cry

word count: 1.1k

Alex:

-would probably not even notice you're crying at first

-his expression would change so quickly

-😀😦

-kind of knew he had it coming though, since a lot of the stuff that flies out of his mouth is....well😇

-would IMMEDIATELY start taking the blame, saying things like "nahhh i didn't actually mean that i lied haha no idea why i said that i'm so stupid" ((starts blaming it on his hormones being affected by working out or something😭😭))

-hesitates at first, but pulls you into the tightest embrace you've ever felt ngl probably hurts a little lol

-his way of apologising to you is saying "you can punch me as hard as you want, i deserve it!!!!"

-starts treating you like royalty for another month, to the point where it becomes annoying

-every time you bring it up, even as a joke, he basically drops to his knees and starts apologising all over again

Elliott:

-if you thought this man was already dramatic as it is....lord🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

-would try to be cool about it, while in his head he's already pressing a dagger to his neck, saying that he has now betrayed his heart and doesn't want to go on any longer

-the moment he sees tears flowing down your face, the only word able to come out of his mouth is a soft "no, no, no..."

-he'd probably start crying with you😭😭😭

-starts whispering the most loving and kind things about yourself into your ear

-literally compares you to the most breathtaking images you could ever envision

-alternative scenario, where he just drops to the floor and starts begging for your forgiveness, even though what he said wasn't really that bad

-after that, he checks up on you every 5 minutes, to make sure you're not upset with him

-would swear on his life and soul to never hurt you again ((mind you it was never that serious😭))

-writes you so many short poems...atp they just become a whole book

Harvey:

-man....😭

-probably hurts him more than it does you lmao

-you crying would be too much for him already...but crying because of him?? ouuu

-is ready to completely retract what he said, even if he's absolutely right, that just doesn't matter to him anymore

-he just stands there for a good amount of time, since he really doesn't know how to deal with these kinds of emotions

-this might just be the first time this man has made someone cry because...let's be fr☠️

-would do that thing where he cups your cheeks and wipes your tears with his thumbs ((after that he's kinda clueless though😭))

-this literally being his worst nightmare...in his eyes hurting you is the equivalent of failing as a partner...and he's not really allowed to fail too often🙁

-would wait 30 years until you're not upset with him ((it takes you exactly 1 minute btw)), and after that it's flowers delivered to your doorstep every day of the week

-even if it were to be a one-time occurrence, he would NEVER EVER forget it, and he would always justify spoiling you with it ((using the 4 cents he makes from the clinic👎))

Sam:

-he is not that smart when it comes to verbalising thoughts please forgive him

-says things like "aw man you're crying😔😔😔😭😭“

-if he's holding a drink or eating something, he offers it to you, even if there's a single bite/sip left of it

-refuses to smile until he's 100% sure you've forgiven him, otherwise he just looks like this: :--(

-low-key fighting for his life not to pull out his phone and google "how to comfort crying person wikihow"

-once you tell him that it's okay between you two bro gets jolly, running around in circles, giggling, twirling his hair and laying down kicking his feet up

-the thing he did that upset you could've been minor, but that still doesn't stop him from saying "man...😔🤦 i'm so glad this chapter is behind us now.." like okay???😭😭😭 ((bonus points if he describes this as a "rough patch" in your relationship))

-tries making something for you after, fails miserably, resorts to showing you cool skateboard tricks he learned off of youtube

-learns his lesson and actually thinks more before he says something ((to the best of his ability))

-promises to write a song about your love and go platinum ((shows it to sebastian and gets banned from writing lyrics for the band forever))

Sebastian:

-freezes immediately

-literally unable to get a single word out, what is he supposed to do in his situation😭

-manages to whisper "i didn't mean..." and proceeds to go quiet after that

-he's been living a sheltered life for a very long time, so he's really scared that whatever he says it will only hurt you even more

-you can definitely see his expression change...not only does it soften but he looks UPSET upset, mostly with himself

-pulls you into a hug, hoping that it'll help a little bit ((it does, bro seems like a good hugger))

-asks you if there's anything he can do to cheer you up, and let me tell you he'd really do anything

-does not let you go for the rest of the day, having his arm wrapped around you, holding your hand, even if it's just the pinky fingers touching

-you have to keep reassuring him that it's okay now, he literally hits you with the "are you sure you're not mad at me?" every 3 seconds just to make sure you guys are good🙏

-lets you touch whatever you want in his room, i'm talking elementary school pictures, old sketchbooks, it's all yours, no matter how humiliating

Shane:

-um...uh😭🙅‍♀️

-yeah he is PISSED he's made you cry, he might've been mean when he first saw you, but now??? that is just not allowed in his mind idc

-jumps to self-deprecation immediately, talking about how he's an asshole, how he always fucks things up (🙁)

-just takes the whole blame on himself, no problem with that

-kind of saw this happening in the nearest future, that man does not have a very good opinion of himself let's be honest😭

-you could tell him you forgive him and he'd be like "nah don't do that wtf i don't deserve it😔"

-doesn't try comforting you at first, since he just assumes that you might never want to see him again

-but after the dust settles he reassures you that he's going to do everything to make sure this doesn't happen again

-sends you musty frozen pizza in the mail in retaliation (sigh🙁)

-would love to pretend this never happened, but making you cry really took a hit on his self-esteem, however it also made him think about how to be the best partner you can have

[jolalibrary]

6. morning coffee

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter six of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.5k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a good dad. an: if this was a sitcom episode, it would be called 'the morning after'

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

It’s hard not to smile when you open your eyes.

More so when you feel his breath on your neck, the scent of body wash you quickly remember him rubbing into your skin—the arm currently draped over your waist. The one keeping you firmly close, as though you would ever wish to be anywhere but here.

Seen, wanted and appreciated—even when he’s not entirely conscious.

The only reason you even contemplate moving from this—and the only real reason you’re awake—is that you’re desperate for the bathroom. It worsens the longer you lie there, thinking of it, the pressure on it from his forearm.

A quick glance at the clock on his bedside table tells you it’s far too early to disturb him. To wake him with a kiss and a whisper that you’ll be right back—especially when you think back to how late it was before the two of you finally whispered that you should sleep.

Even if you hadn’t wanted to.

Wanting instead to keep feeling his knuckles drag up and down your outer thigh and knee. The husk of his voice saying he should really flick the light off, even if he didn’t, instead letting you ask his favourite colour and him answering with a handful of shades you’d never remember.

Pick one, Francisco.

Mmm, not sure I can do that, baby. Too hard of a question.

Too hard to pick one thing?

Not when it’s the right thing.

Glancing over at him, fingers close to his, you swim for a moment in the memories of last night—the ache between your thighs a souvenir you can keep with you until it fades. Admiring the length of his lashes against his cheek, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips that you wish to kiss forever, as a thought—one strong and beating inside of you like your own heart—comes to you:

You don’t wish to trade this. Any of it.

Not just last night, but all of it—all of him.

But, you have to move. Even if your heart pleads with you not—eventually only doing so when your bladder twinges again in protest.

You find, slipping out from under his arm (all cautiously and carefully) is easy, until you glance back at his sleeping frame.

A calmness to him, a peacefulness. Chest and shoulder rising, face tilted ever so slightly into the plump pillow. It makes a pang of want thrum through you, one that doesn’t fade when you tiptoe back to the room and find him in a similar position.

Leaning on the wall, the one between his bedroom and en-suite, you flick your eyes to the half-open door. Spotting his bathrobe, fluffy and dark grey—flecks of white stitched in. Your throat suddenly scratchy, dry. Your body desperate for what usually fuels it when you’re up and about.

And you know you have to decide. Choose between attempting to slide back into bed or searching cupboards for coffee—both for you and him.

But you can’t stand there. Able to bet money that if he opened his eyes and found you staring, he’d one hundred per cent find it creepy.

You move when he sighs—further rolling into the space you had been moments ago. Smirking, you move, the decision made as you unhook the rope. Slowly sliding your arms into it until it’s draped over you and you’re welcomed by it: his scent.

That familiar one. The one which smells like pine cones, cedar wood and so much more. The one which had seeped into your clothes that first kiss close to your car.

And, thankfully, it only gets more intense as you step out into the hallway.

Brushing your hand over shelves as you pass, eyes lingering over the titles of books—ones about woodwork, decor and home. Fingers tracing the spines of them as you take in the photographs littered around.

Some are adorned with Luca, varying ages spanned across shelves. A tooth missing here, a gummy smile there. Some you assume are his family, and then a group of men, shirts off and standing in the middle of a dune—grinning, Frankie’s hair far shorter than it is now.

But, as you stare across his living area, you spot all the things you missed last night. The record player and the vinyls tucked on a higher shelf, placed beside crayon artwork framed in dark wood. There are mini-Lego figures in prime places, with wicker baskets containing multicoloured blocks and toys.

Then, there’s the closet near the kitchen you can’t remember from your tour—making a note to question him on later—before finally arriving at his kitchen.

And, fuck is it beautiful.

It’s all dimly lit by the early morning light flitting through the windows. Quiet, peaceful—save for the humming of the refrigerator and the distant chirping of birds outside. Like much of the place, the cupboards are dark, starkly contrasted by white-wash walls and pinned drawings on the fridge.

Centre-stage, and the thing you’re seeking, is his coffee machine. A sleek silver contraption that looks more complicated than you're used to. Shiny, remarkably clean.

Yet, you're determined.

Remembering his mention about his love of coffee and his preference for Cafe Bustelo. Trying to remember the rest, whether it was black drip, milk or no milk. Stroking a finger down the milk frother as you begin to piece it all together from fragments, hints he had dropped unknowingly.

Up until this point, you had found it difficult to find one thing about Frankie you didn’t like. Then you saw his kitchen layout.

Cupboard, after cupboard opened until you found the bright yellow bag. The smoky, rich smell wafting out as you tugged it close, all strong and inviting—it hooked a finger under your chin and coaxed you to spend several minutes fumbling with the machine.

Then, you hear the satisfying gurgle of brewing coffee.

Resisting the urge to break into a spontaneous dance, you opt instead to steal a momentary glance out the window. The world is stirring, its early morning canvas painted in delicate strokes of pink and orange, a serene backdrop as your gaze falls upon the garden. the worn slide of the wooden climbing frame, its sides adorned in an array of mismatched hues and haphazard brushstrokes. Your eyes begin tracing the trail of tiny handprints ascending one side, the lowest the smallest, increasing in size until halfway up. Then, at the top, larger prints that, just hours ago, you imagine were pressed against your own skin.

As a breeze blows through it, it swings multi-colour bulbs hanging, draped and swinging above. Letting your eyes sweep over the plants—the planters likely made by him, like you imagine much of the furniture outside is—suddenly spotting little figures buried into random bits of soil.  

And it makes you smile, grin—full on fucking beam.

Only letting it flicker when you’re stirred by the beep of the coffee machine, pulls you from your reverie. Fingers returning to opening cupboards, seeking mugs, almost grumbling to yourself when you feel hands on your waist.

Ones that feel right, purposeful.

“Morning.”

It’s gravelly, coated in the morning—slowly closing the door before moving back into him, your back flush to his chest.

“Good morning, Butterscotch.”

Feeling him sigh, chin resting on your shoulder, you raise your fingers to brush against his cheek.

“You trying to bring me coffee in bed?”

Turning, you rotate in his arms. Eyes briefly catching the sight of him half-naked. Before taking a full on glance to spot him in a pair of sweats, ones that sit low on his hips. One of his hands crosses over the expanse of his waist, fingers scratching at his soft stomach while you look up to see his hair all at odd angles—curls slightly frizzed from being over-toyed and ragged.

“Well, I was trying too, but...”

“Machine confuse you?”

Narrowing your eyes, his hands coming around you, you smirk. “I will not confirm or deny.”

Running his hand across his chin, he looks over you before his lips twitch. “It was a gift—the machine.”

“From you to you?”

You watch as he sticks his tongue in his cheek, poking you lightly in your side. “The coffee place near work—it was being refurbed, I offered some thoughts as I was in there all the time, so they gave it to me.”

“Do you know how to use it?”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he shrugs. “Well, yeah.”

“Do you use all of its features?”

Swallowing, he sighs. “No.”

Sliding your fingers along his jaw, nose practically touching his, you find yourself unable to break his eyes. To not want to remain pressed against the counter in his kitchen, stood barefoot in his bathrobe, coffee scents filling the air.

“I bet you know exactly how to take it apart and put it back together.”

“Baby…”

“Bet you descale it regularly, when you’re supposed to.”

Groaning at the feel of your fingers in his hair, he buries his face into your neck. “Is that making you hot for me?”

“Oddly, yes.”

Snorting against your skin, he slowly lets out a slow exhale. “I hate that I have to open the shop.”

“What would your plans be if you didn’t have to?”

Smirking, he groans—low, barely reaching the surface, but it vibrates through you all the same. “I would for one have convinced you the bedroom was far more comfortable.”

“Hmm, tempting.”

Laughing, he pecks your lips, not moving from his place in front of you, even if his head moves back. “I like that you smell like me.”

“Territorial, noted.”

Turning, he points to the mugs, as you begin pouring the coffee—handing him one as his fingers brush yours.

“I just… I liked that you stayed.”

“Stayed or showered with you and let you see where soap suds go?”

Tilting his chin down, his eyes burn into your soul—all wide, brown, desperate to swallow you whole. “If I remember right, you were also seeing where soap suds go.”

Shrugging, you smirk against the mug, noting his finger resting on the knot of the belt—the one protecting your modesty. “Well, it would be rude to not watch the show.”

“A show? Glad I put on my best moves then,” he replies, voice all low, a hand coming to rest on the counter beside you.

You find it hard not to let your mouth become slack, breath hitching at the act.

“Glad it persuaded you to stay?”

Raising an eyebrow, you try to find something smart to say. Ticking. Whirring away. But then you see it.

Ever-present, hanging there—that worry in his eye. A look which half-pleads for you to pinch him and let him know it’s real. A thing you do as you clutch your coffee in one hand, avoid melting at his words and cup his cheek with the other.

The fabric of his robe-sleeve slides down and his breath flutters warmth against your wrist.

“You didn’t need to persuade me. I wanted to wake up in your arms…”

It’s smooth, the way one of his fingers undo the belt, body coming close as you place the mug down and feel his hands, all rough and worn, sliding over your hips. He's cautious to ensure his chest covers yours, as though attempting to keep you warm, concealed.

“—Plus, I really wanted to try your coffee. But, now I want to steal your coffee and bathrobe.”

His laughter trickles out and draws out against you. Frankie’s head shaking, wearing a large smile on his lips, “Well, I think I can come to some arrangement to let you.”

Sucking in a breath, finding his eyes locked on yours, you lean forward and kiss him. Gentle. Delicate. An assurance delivered softly as the coffee aroma continues to seep into your nose.

“I need to make you breakfast,” he whispers, mouth open, breathing the same air.

“Need, want or should?”

With a soft scoff, he leans in to capture your lips once more, whispering all three against you as his hand finds its way to the curve of your neck. Delicately tracing his fingertips over your jawline with a tantalising caress, you find yourself deepening the kiss, hungry for more. His grip on you tightens as you pull him closer, until there is no space left between you both. None that you want to be there. Desperate to be close, to have, to—

“‘m gonna make your breakfast now,” he says, voice close, pecking against your lips before his hands slide from your skin.

The loss is evident. Immediately missed.

Part of you longs to reach out, to draw him back until you feel him clutching the fabric together for you—a slightly lifted brow as you fumble for the belt, and he begins to pull things onto the counter.

Then, you watch him—tying his robe closed—half-in-awe of the meticulous way he moves around his space, grabbing things like he’s been thinking of what to make while you were busy rendered useless.

Eyes fixed on him so much, you see him pause—briefly. His gaze lingers on the coffee pot, glancing back, forcing you to laugh—a shake of your head.

"Thinking about how you’re going to miss this brilliant coffee, you know, since it’s mine now?" You quip, taking another sip of your coffee.

He turns, a pretend wounded expression on his face.

“I should confess that I’m not a nice person without my coffee," he replies, the twinkle in his eyes betraying his amusement.

With a smile gracing your lips, you ease back against his countertop, enjoying the comforting warmth of both the freshly brewed coffee and his presence.

The sunlight continues to filter in gently, casting a soft and golden glow across the room as you pause to drink in the sight before you. Him, cooking you breakfast.

A thing you thought you could have only thought up weeks ago. His curls tousled, a charming mess.

"Selfishly then, I'll let you keep the coffee," you finally concede.

Nodding, he closes his eyes in gratitude before there’s a twitch of his lips. “Because you like me?”

“Because I really like this bathrobe—the robe is a non-negotiable."

He laughs again, shaking his head in defeat. "Fair enough, it's a deal."

“Because I look so good in it?”

“Well," he says, scratching the back of his head. “I think you look good in everything.”

Harry okay?

Yeah, he rocked up ten minutes after you drove off, was able to pick Luca up at normal time.

That’s great! Did you boys have fun?

We did. He’s really into dinosaurs at the moment so I found this craft we could do where we make dinosaurs out of paper plates.

I like making things with him, plus it’s a nice gift for his mom when I drop him off tomorrow.

So handy and crafty?

Very crafty.

And very good with your hands.

You flirt.

You had a nice day?

I got some work done which I needed to get started, and I did some yoga.

Putting all sorts of images in my head.

Says you, talking about being crafty.

Bed feels weird without you here.

Imprinted on it that quickly?

Yeah. You’re the only one that’s been in it except me, and obviously Luca.

Shut up. I cannot be.

You are.

I don’t bring people back to my house.

Ever?

Never.

Never.

Never—

You don’t think.

Not of the time. That he could be tired. Or that his son is asleep in the next room.

Fingers sliding across the screen, finding his contact, and clicking. It's pressed to your ear before you consider whether this is a bad idea. Clutching it, holding it like a lifeline, knowing it's too late. Even if you end it, he'd know, see—

It barely rings.

Two at most, one and a half being a possibility.

And you sigh.

“Fancy hearing from you.”

Pulling your knees up, your bed groans at the sudden movement as you tug the duvet closer to your chin, cheeks rising with your lips. “You’ve really not had someone in your bed?”

It’s there, the sigh. Not full of annoyance, but more like he’s said too much.

“No… I’ve not had anyone else in it but you,” he admits quietly into the phone.

“Wow.”

“And Luca, of course. I always… you sure you want to hear this?”

There’s a softness in his voice that makes your heart flutter in your chest. An unexpected stroke of warmth through you at his question, at his consideration—prompting you to hug the duvet closer to yourself. A subtle smile dances across your lips as you let it wash over you.

“I want to hear whatever you want to tell me.”

Clearing his throat, you hear rustling, trying to half imagine if he’s turning over in bed, if he’s getting more comfortable—

“If I met someone, I didn’t… I only went to theirs.”

Biting your lip, you shift in your seated position, crossing your legs. “So, lunch and then theirs?”

“No lunch.”

“Coffee?”

Silence. Thick, ear-eroding silence. Before he breathes. “It would be a one-night thing and I wouldn’t stay.”

Oh. Your hand slides around your knee, trying not to grin too much. It's all far too easy to get ahead of yourself, to think too much. To run away and begin thinking this means more than it does. But, then—

“So, I’m…”

“Yeah.”

There’s more you want to ask, them sitting there, burning a hole in your tongue. Practically desperate to erode it, possibly poison it all—as questions sometimes do.

“And here I was thinking I was just another notch on your bedpost,” you tease, trying to keep your voice light, sweet.

He laughs then, a sound that makes you wish you were there with him, instead of miles apart in your own cold bed. “Not at all, baby.”

Toes twitching in your bed, you let out a breath. Sliding your legs out straight, slowly folding yourself down to the mattress, lying on one side as you hold the phone.

And you confess your own.

The reason you’re single, the reason you bought a house.

It rolls and falls, slipping with far too much ease into the air from your mouth. A burden-shifting, a weight from your shoulders lessening. The admission undoing the tightness around your chest as you continue to let the past be told in the present.

You don’t cry. Don’t even feel yourself well up. An improvement, a shift and change in you that you’re sure is brought on entirely by Frankie. On occasion, you hear movement from his side and the briefest whisper of your name. Not in pity—never in pity—just in understanding, in comfort.

“So, I’m the first—“

“Yes, Morales. You’re the first person to ask me out in a long time, big deal.”

“It feels like a big deal.”

Smirking, you twitch your toes. “In a few more dates I might confess that it is.”

“But not right now?”

Grinning, you bite your lip. “Feels like it would inflate your head, Francisco.”

More rustling comes down the phone before you hear a deep sigh. “Maybe. Are you in bed?”

“I am.”

You stare at the dark ceiling of your bedroom, a smile slowly spreading across your face.

“Is it weird to admit I miss you?”

“Not if it’s weird if I say I miss you too.”

You swear you hear him smile. That soft exhale he does dusts over your ear as he breathes your name, before adding, “I’m glad you called.”

“Me too.”

A comfortable silence flows out, spreading as you listen to him breathe.

“Want me to tell you my favourite dinosaur?”

You don't fight the laughter that rings out around your bedroom

Sunday tiptoes in with the slightest spring in its step.

With a gentle stretch, you reach for the familiar weight of your phone, heart already skipping ahead of your groggy mind.

There's a flutter of excitement, it mixing with a hint of nerves as you wonder if he's reached out yet. Because it's silly to be excited at the idea that he has, to be giddy at the thought of him thinking of you in this quiet morning hour.

It feels almost teenage-like.

But when your screen lights up you don't care what it is, because there’s little point fighting the grin. The pure eclipsing smile that smothers tiredness and makes your cheeks hurt instantly.

Enjoying my morning coffee feels different without a robe-wearing thief.

Rolling onto your front, the duvet sliding down your back, you dig your elbows into the mattress and run your tongue across your teeth.

Good morning to you too. If there’s coffee left, expect me in half an hour. Unless you fancy getting some with me?

Even if it feels like minutes, his reply arrives in seconds.

Instantly illuminating your phone against the backdrop of your pillow, prompting an involuntary smile to grace your lips.

Always. But I’m thinking brunch might be better?

Grinning, you fight a giggle. Teeth biting down on your lip as your thumbs type at record speed.

Can’t wear the bathrobe there. No, not really. But, I’ll keep it safe, don’t worry. Promise? Pinky promise. Brunch it is. I'll pick you up.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[lavernius]

Locus as a metaphor for colorism/racism

Some people were interested in this take so I'm going to go over it really quick. I am brown, a lot of the experiences I talk about here are lived (and a lot of them I experienced from this fandom, ironically enough). Warnings for discussion of racism and colorism + abuse.

Don't be weird, keep it civil! I'm not telling you what to think I'm just giving my two cents as a person who has experienced all of this.

Note: I don't think RT intentionally did any of this because they couldn't even treat their real life employees of color well so I don’t trust them with a character of color LMAO. “Colorism” is specified here because being brown affects every part of life in a way that's difficult to explain if you haven't experienced it firsthand.

Locus experiences very true aspects of real-world racial profiling: he's a big, dark-skinned, reserved brown man who is heavily demonized—both by the narrative/show AND in-universe. The fact that the “scary” merc of the duo is the one who was confirmed brown in 14 is likely colorism on RT's part, yes, but it doesn't change that Locus is painted as an aggressive monster canonically (a common stereotype of brown men, and a cause for code-switching in many POC). He's a monster, a dog, a weapon, a machine—all words that are used to describe him in the show, some he even uses on himself. Obviously not words you should be applying to a brown person good lord!

Locus’s apathy isn't inherently part of him. Maybe he wasn't always kind or gentle, but he was forced into a violent situation and TRIED to stay empathetic, wanting to spare his enemies at times, before he was forced out of the mindset—something that still bothers him to this day, even if he's repressed it! Brown people commonly have mental health issues and trauma that doesn't get addressed because of cultural expectations and medical racism, to the point where a lot of our cultures normalize very unhealthy behaviors. More of a stretch, maybe, but it reads like racial trauma if I ever saw it (and I have). Specifically because:

Felix sees him starting to lose his empathy, which is VERY BAD for Locus’s mental health, and takes advantage of it to use Locus as something of a “guard dog”. Erm, white people benefiting from racism and colorism? White people forcing stigma on brown people to gain power over them? What a surprise!

On the note of Felix: while Santa’s reveal that Felix is afraid of Locus can have several meanings, a lot of them can still lead down a road of (abusive) racism. He's scared of Locus because he's a “merciless killer”, isn't the same person he used to be? Who caused that, I wonder? Scared because if Locus found out he was being manipulated he’d immediately abandon Felix? Yeah, because he's being manipulated and abused, of course he’d leave… if I found out I was being manipulated by a white man I'd be uncomfortable too! Victim blaming is EXTREMELY common with racist white people because there is POWER in being white and blaming the brown man.

I like to see Locus’s divorce from his given name and visage as a symbol of cultural isolation. POC are so frequently made victims of identity crises because we’re expected to conform to a white world, whether we try to be white people or try to be what white people expect us to be. The latter in Locus’s case—they want a violent brown man, they have one. It keeps him alive at the cost of taking his sense of self away. He's safer as Locus, the armor, than he is as Ortez, the person.

There's not like, canonical evidence I can point to, but Locus feels like a catch-22 of “I want to be angry that people see me as a monster for being brown, but if I’m angry they’ll see me as a monster because I am brown”. It's a cycle that's hard to escape because when you ARE a righteous brown person who wants to be angry because the world has hurt you, it's so easy to paint you as an animal.

Um the fandom is extremely racist to him in ways I don't think they're even aware of. He's got it all! Fandom whitewashing and stereotyping and sexualizing and demonizing, people shipping him with a white person who hurt him (because a brown person cannot be hurt by a white person without SOMEONE wanting to forgive the white perpetrator for it LMFAO, many such cases where it’s done for the sake of shipping too), performative diversity and a lack of actual depth in his culture bar the fact that he speaks Spanish and has a Hispanic name…I don’t even think the guy who MADE him gives a shit that he’s brown (past it giving him brownie points) and how it affects him. Yeah who’s surprised. (EDIT: did not know Miles was mixed, but POC are still capable of colorism, etc. I still think Miles, as a lighter skinned person, doesn't fully comprehend how Locus being dark plays into the dynamic/Locus's character as a whole. Still, entirely my mistake.)

So basically: brown guy gets dehumanized, white guy takes advantage of it, systemic colorism and stigma helps white guy get away with it, brown guy is alienated from himself as a result and thinks he genuinely is a monster because everyone treats him like one. I see myself in him as a brown person who has experienced colorism for having low empathy and not connecting with society. It's awesome.

He is a textbook traumatized brown guy. He's got internalized racism/colorism. He's going to meet other brown people and unlearn it. He’s going to connect with his culture again. He’s going to realize he never owed the white man power over him just because he was convenient to control. He's going to be okay!

No thanks to RT because they couldn’t write a good brown guy if they tried + it falls on us brown people to give coincidences this kind of personal meaning. LOL

Next week (not really) I get into how Lopez is an incredible accidental portrayal of alienated brown people who have pride in themselves and want justice for being mistreated all the time.

[slaaverin]

Jimin and the Devil perspective

I just wanted to expand some of my thoughts on Jimin and the way he may perceive his relationship with Jungkook in the lense of the Devil card that showed up in their last BMP relationship reading.

It's gonna be all over the place sorry in advance.

I always take readings with a grain of salt of course, not at face value, but it's interesting to try and analyze stuff with this potential perspective in mind.

If Jimin truly sees their relationship in the lense of the Devil, if explains a lot of fucking things about his behaviour in general these last few years. It actually makes a lot of sense.

Like why he has been holding back so much.

I don't want to make two cents psychology on Jimin, I don't pretend to be in his head, I don't pretend to know the truth, it's only my opinion and intuition and I might be completely wrong about all of this 🤡 So take of it what you will.

But guys it actually truly saddens me to say this, but I think a part of why he might see the relationship as the Devil is because Jimin still can't truly believe Jungkook is in love with him. He knows he does, but like there is a deep insecurity underneath all of it that makes it, improbable? Surprising? To him still.

That's why everytime Jungkook says something incredibly romantic or cheesy or grandiose (like "until we are 50") Jimin first reaction is disbelief ("This guy..?"). Yes of course it's also because they are in public. But in fact both factors are linked in the Devil perspective.

Jimin has always put everyone above himself, has always been the caretaker of the group, but also the caretaker for Jungkook when he was growing up. Even if the dynamic changed these days, in his mind he still needs to take care of Jungkook, it's still his job even if JK is an adult now ("as long as you are happy" "all for your happiness").

Who offered to make the AYS first trip? Jimin. And why did he do so? Probably because he saw how utterly miserable Jungkook was, he saw that Jungkook needed this, needed to spend time away from schedule but also together with him. So he catered to his needs.

I'm not saying Jimin didn't need it.

Jimin deeply loves Jungkook, he has loved him almost immediately after they met, Jungkook is the man he's wanted since day one, of course he needs him.

He loves the attention he has from Jungkook. He loves that Jungkook is his. He loves having his name on JK's chest. But Jimin has such a big heart he puts Jungkook first because he still feels he needs to be the caretaker, and that's why he needs to be the responsible one, the reasonable one, the cautious one. And they need to be careful, not for his own sake, but for Jungkook's sake.

He's so used to put others above himself that it seems he doesn't even know how to take a compliment properly. He avoids it. And he's honored to have JK's food, it's an honor to him for JK to do nice things for him. When something is an honor, it's because you place the other person in high standard right?

Did you have fun? It's all that matters. All for YOUR happiness. Jimin doesn't even think about himself for one second. This isn't even about him.

We know how much hate Jimin has been receiving online for years now. That's why he has been away from socmed and that's why he doesn't share any truly personal stuff with us anymore. We can assume he read the hate, he knows the hate, and the hate hurt him in a way for him to pull back this much.

So that's why he can be so careful at times, and that's why he's the worrier of the two, because he experienced directly what hate can do to someone and he doesn't want this for Jungkook. He wants to protects Jungkook from it.

Jungkook doesn't care of course. Jungkook is free. Jungkook lives his life as he pleases, and I'm sure he's not as concerned as Jimin, but still he makes the effort not to simply blurt out "Jimin is my boyfriend" only because he cares what Jimin thinks and if Jimin doesn't feel safe then Jungkook wants to do the right thing by him too.

But all of it guys, the worrying, the not believing completely Jungkook loves him, the caretaker role Jimin has taken upon himself and placing others above, it all comes from an internal imbalance. A false perception.

Jimin has a deep rooted insecurity somewhere. Jimin has pretty much always downplayed his own accomplishements, and in a way his own worth? Which might have been completely due to environnemental influence who knows.

So that's the reason he might see their relationship as the Devil. That's why he thinks it's an hinderance not even for himself but for Jungkook.

It comes from fear. Fear of the outside world, but also fear of not being good enough (which is like the insecurity of 90% of the population of the planet? So yeah not very surprising there)

You can put people above yourself as an act of service, but when it becomes to your own detriment it shows a lack of self-esteem and self-love. You can give to others but you also need to give to yourself, and does Jimin really does this??? I don't know.

Jungkook does not have this issue to that extent because he has that self-love (which Jimin amongst other people also helped him build).

I won't begin to speculate where this comes from or why, there might be many factors at play and it doesn't really matter.

What I believe is that Jungkook being so forward with his feelings for Jimin might help Jimin being more assured in this relationship.

But as long as he doesn't have that internal shift, where he stops buying into this false perception of himself, and whatever role he "should" take or not, it can't really evolve from the Devil.

Because the Devil is pure illusion to begin with, literally. As long as Jimin will stay in this illusion there will be imbalance in the relationship.

But if he can reconnect to himself and to his heart, which I hope the time in military will allow him to do, he can come back to a more balanced state and it will be smooth sailing from there.

I wonder if he will be able to do it at some point, I truly hope so, even if I'm quite sure Jungkook will be there to support him trhough it.

I'm not even 100% sure it's in the conscious mind of Jimin. Maybe it's an underlying thing lurking in the subconscious.

Idk man.

(All of it is only speculation and my own intuition, I am not throwing hate at Jimin in fact there is no judgement in any of these statements, merely me trying to make sense of things.)

Feel free to send me your thoughts (politely) if you have any

I have no conclusion to this 🫡 sorry for my rambling

[unhingedoveractivemuse]

Title: “I want to do chores with you for the rest of my life.”

Tags: Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Love Confession

===============================================

Eddie does not know what he did to deserve this.

“Don’t do that!”

“But…” he says, waving the shirt in his hand that he was about to toss into the washing machine.

Buck huffs, staring him down, and, with equal measures of fondness and exasperation, he drops the shirt into the hamper.

“Good. Now, if you could just go sit down somewhere, I’d appreciate it.”

“I’m not completely invalid Buck. My therapist told me to start using my shoulder, remember?”

The expression on Buck’s face tells Eddie he’s not quite happy about that development. “Light exercises. Doing laundry is debatable.”

Eddie sighs. There’s no way to win against Buck when the blonde is being stubborn.

And, honestly, a large part of him is relieved he doesn’t have to do the chores. He's not sure how much his shoulder can handle. Another part is glowing from the attention Buck is giving him.

He just wishes he could do something.

But, nope, Buck has been on top of everything, doing all the chores with ease, cooking them meals, making sure Eddie’s alarms for his meds are accurate, dropping off and picking up Christopher from school when Carla wasn’t available.

Eddie had protested, reminding Buck that there was nothing he could have done to prevent Eddie from being shot, but the Buckley stubbornness knows no bounds.

It’s not just the necessities either. Buck has been going above and beyond for them.

His best friend has done everything he could to make Eddie’s life easier. He changed the hinges on all the cabinets so Eddie could open them more easily (not that they were hard to open before), moved everything he could need to somewhere he could reach easily, changed the locks so he doesn’t have to wiggle the key around to open it, and even rearranged this clothes so he doesn’t have to shuffle through his drawer for stuff.

That wasn’t even the end of everything that Buck had done the last three months. He coupons to save them every cent, looks for deals everywhere (which is why there’s a mountain of flour in the kitchen right now for the inevitable school bake sale in two months), puts lavender and other herbs in Eddie’s room to help him relax and sleep better, and even got sewing lessons from Abuela to mend his favorite Henley.

Buck has made it so that he has nothing to worry about. Not the finances, the chores, Christopher, etc. Everything has been taken care of. All he has to do is focus on healing.

Even Christopher noticed, going so far as to say, “Buck’s a househusband.”

And if that hadn’t spent Eddie down a rabbit hole of feelings, he doesn’t know what did.

Househusband.

It’s a term that Christopher had picked up at school from a classmate, and it has Eddie thinking to this day.

Househusband.

He’s heard of ‘housewife’, of course, and he’s not so traditional that he thinks it can only be the wife that stays at home to take care of it.

It’s just that hearing the alternative version of the word had him thinking.

It’s always been ‘You have to be a man to take care of your wife one day’ or ‘Find a wife and start a family with them’.

But does it have to be a wife? Can’t it be a husband?

The idea hadn’t repulsed him or grated at him like he thought it would, and it made him think of it in a context with the man he calls his best friend.

And promptly went to therapy about it.

If it meant also having to talk about the shooting? Worth it. Because he can’t not figure out these feelings he might or might not have for Buck. They’re partners. If he doesn’t figure them out, they could be over.

And what a revelation it was.

It makes sense, in hindsight. The feeling of wrongness when he woke up with Ana next to him because all he wanted was Buck, a thought that had him promptly breaking up with Ana. The ease and happiness he feels when Buck is around. The safety he feels knowing Buck is there. The comfort of Buck’s hugs and touches. The eagerness that fills him when they plan another thing to do together with Christopher like a family.

Now he just has to figure out what to do with those feelings because he’s getting better and, sooner rather than later, Buck won’t be around the bungalow anymore and…

Eddie misses him already.

He’ll miss seeing Buck’s smiles in the mornings, the mindless chatter that permeates through the house, the relaxing evenings on the couch, the laughter over some corny joke.

If he says something, he’ll risk it all. Buck’s never been with a guy, so Eddie’s not sure if he’s straight or the string of women was just a coincidence. He doesn't think Buck will stop talking to him or let him down, but it’ll get awkward, that’s for sure.

If he doesn't say anything, nothing will change between them. But it'll also mean watching Buck get together with someone else and having to love him from afar.

If he says something though…

Well, he’s trying to wrap his mind around the possibility that Buck would even want him. It's hard to imagine Buck would.

Because what did he do to deserve Evan Buckley?

He doesn’t know.

He does not know what he did to deserve this.

Everything that Buck has done for him and his son has been out of this world, and there’s nothing Buck has asked for in return. He even gave up whatever he had going on with Taylor Kelly for Eddie.

What could Eddie possibly give him in return?

He’s a widower, he has a son, he’s got a ton of PTSD that he hasn’t quite worked through, he’s a terrible cook, and he’s…

He’s a mess.

But as he watches Buck crouching on the floor of his laundry room and separating the clothes to get them into the washing machine, he wants.

He wants Buck to stay. He wants to dry the dishes as Buck washes them. He wants to chop the ingredients while Buck cooks. He wants to separate the clothes while Buck puts them in the dryer. He wants to work on every chore together and then cuddle up on the couch. He wants the first and last thing he sees every day to be Buck’s face. He wants to officially raise Christopher together with Buck and maybe even adopt more kids.

He wants forever with Buck.

“Buck,” the name falls from his lips unbidden as he steps forward and falls on his knees so they’re almost face to face.

Soft-looking lips purse. “I’m not letting you do the laundry.”

”I won’t. There’s just something I want you to know,” he says, reaching up.

“What is it?” Buck asks, adorably confused even as Eddie brushes a thumb over that pretty birthmark.

But Eddie is a man of action, so his hand travels down onto Buck’s neck, pulling in his best friend for a kiss.

And what a kiss it is.

Buck gives a little sound, something that Eddie doesn’t quite know the meaning of, but easily accepts the gesture, resting a hand tentatively on Eddie’s waist. He reads it as the go-ahead it is and presses firmer onto Buck’s lips, relishing in the taste of Buck and the barbeque they had for lunch. The lips are pliant, unsure, at first but the longer Eddie presses, the more they gain confidence, and then they’re battling, hands searching.

By the time air becomes an issue and they pull away, they’re panting, eyes searching. Eddie watches as Buck blinks at him, lips swollen from their kiss and a blush rapidly starting to form on his cheeks.

“Hi,” he says like an idiot. “That was okay right?”

“Y-yeah.”

Eddie frowns. “You can tell me if it wasn't.”

Buck shakes his head. “It was. I just didn’t…When did you realize you wanted to kiss me?”

“Not that long ago. Christopher said something and it made me realize that I didn't necessarily want a housewife.”

“So what? The chores did it for you? Or was it the domesticity?” Buck asks teasingly, a tiny smirk on his face.

“No. You did it for me.” He brushes their noses together, planting another soft kiss on his best friend. “I want to do chores with you for the rest of my life.”

Buck grins, a rare, shy smile on his face. “I love you, too. I really didn’t think you’d ever feel the same.”

Feeling elated, Eddie kisses Buck again, again, and again until Buck laughs, gently pushing him away.

Blue eyes glimmer with so much love that Eddie would have been weak-kneed if he was standing. “As good of a kisser you are, these clothes aren’t washing themselves and you are still not helping.”

“That’s fine. I’ve got the rest of my life to do them with you anyway.”

And he will.

[dreamwatch]

Disenchanted Lullaby

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #16 - Prompt: Struggling | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: depression, chronic pain, referenced drug use | POV: Eddie | Pairing: None | Tags: Eddie Munson, slice of life, introspection, the comedown after touring, loneliness, ennui

In all my universes Eddie has Bipolar type 2. Make of that what you will. :)

Technically no pairing... technically...

Eddie opens the apartment door, a rush of stale air meeting him in the hallway. He steps inside and drops his bag, toeing his sneakers off. The curtains are still closed, dust motes decorating the room; there are upturned dishes by the sink that are long since dried. The sofa is a mess of clothes and books, discarded when he was packing. The place is just as he left it four months ago.

He sorts through weeks of unread mail, bills on one pile, junk on another. Starts a third pile when he recognises the handwriting on some letters; Dustin, Mike. Steve. He sticks that one into a pile of it’s own. No overdue notices because he cut off the cable and sent checks from the road for the rent and utilities. Probably confused the hell out of them with all the different post marks.

There’s a lingering smell of himself in the bedroom, an echo of him, and he wishes he’d changed the bedding before he left for the tour. He unpacks his bag, checking for clean clothes, but there’s road-stink on everything so he takes it all down to the laundry, trying to get four months of sweat and cigarettes out of the fabric.

He had the good sense to empty the fridge before he left; he forgot once and came home to find food so rotten it was almost sentient. But that means he has nothing to eat. He’s been living off pizza and Taco Bell for sixteen weeks; there was a venue in Denver that gave them fruit and vegetables among the usual subs and pizzas. He never realised eating a carrot could be a spiritual experience.

The aisles of the local supermarket are filled with women and their offspring, an old lady hits the back of his bad leg with her trolley, doesn’t even say sorry. 

The harsh fluorescent strip light flickers above him as he stares at the deli meats. There’s fifty cents off pastrami. He needs to get bread. 

The strip light hums. 

Maybe some mayo. Should definitely get some oranges. 

“Sir?”

He blinks and looks as the girl behind the checkout.

“Sorry, what…?”

She sighs. “$26.55.”

“Right. Yeah, sure.”

He hands over three tens and walks out as fast as he can. As he loads up the car he notices the twin six packs of PBR at the bottom of the trolley.

The stairs finish off the job the old lady started, he feels flayed and raw, but he ran out of Vicodin about eight shows back. The apartment is quiet enough that he can hear the whistling of his tinnitus. He thinks about calling Wayne but it’s lunchtime in Indiana and the old man will be sleeping. He’ll catch him another time.

He’s in pain and exhausted, so he slides out of his jeans, climbs on top of the dirty bed and sleeps.

Wayne used to say that his mother ‘suffered with her nerves’, and Eddie could never make any sense of that until he started high school. They didn’t see it for what it was at first, teenage boys and their angry moods, but Wayne recognised it eventually. Eddie’s been on and off meds ever since.

Right now he’s off. But they numb him, dial him down when he needs to be dialled up, so he doesn’t take them when he tours. It’s not smart; the last few weeks he’s felt it creep back, insidious tendrils grabbing him, pulling him down. His ‘nerves’. He needs to call his doctor.

It’s amazing how many people think everyone in a band lives together like The Monkees, all trapped in one big house. They did, when they first moved to Indy and found a two bedroom shitbox. Now, though, they can’t wait to get the fuck away from each other the second the tour ends. Weeks trapped on a bus with no privacy and very little hygiene doesn’t do much for long term friendships. By the end any camaraderie has begun to curdle. 

Gareth and Matt live with their girlfriends now, Jeff with his wife and baby. They have solid families, good reasons to not be in the same room as one another until they have to get back into the studio. Eddie has his books, his records and a television set. He considered getting a dog for company but there’s nobody to look after it when he inevitably goes back out on the road.

He doesn’t verbalise it because it’s painful to admit, even to himself, but he’s lonely. He made some friends in LA, just for him, never to be shared. An actual boyfriend once. Or maybe just a lover, Eddie’s never sure where the line started and ended. But he has a habit of pushing people away, doesn’t even know why he does it. Hurts just to hurt.

He glances at the letters on the table. The letter from Steve. 

The red light of the answerphone blinks at him, telling him the tape is full.

He sits down with a beer and a bag of pretzels and switches the television on, flicking through the channels until he finds the Wheel of Fortune; he and Wayne used to watch that together. 

He really should call Wayne.

It’s nearly eight o’clock. He’d have finished his vocal warm up by now, finished his stretches, gone for a piss before drinking more water, drinking more beer, finishing up with a line of something. Roadie hands him his guitar, the black Flying V, he runs some scales. Hears the chanting as the crowd get antsy while their techs do the last mic check and clear the stage. Jeff is always first so the wall of sound has already built before Eddie walks out. A crushing roar that rumbles deep in his chest before he even strikes the first chord.

The crowd applaud as Gary from Sioux Falls solves the phrase: There’s No Place Like Home.

Eddie gets up for another beer. Comes back with two.

[aziraphales-library]

Heya!

I've read a LOT of GO fics in my time, but I can't remember if I've seen crossovers/AUs of the following movies with Aziraphale/Crowley, can you help please?

So my favourite rom coms of all time are the following, and I'd love GO versions (if they don't exist I may have to write them)!

French Kiss (Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline)

You've Got Mail (Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks)

When Harry Met Sally (Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal)

Runaway Bride (Julia Roberts and Richard Gere)

Never Been Kissed (Drew Barrymore)

I won't bother asking about Pretty Woman because I've read so many versions with either of them in either role lmaooo (and I have loved Every. Single. One.)

Or basically any late 80s/early 90s rom coms with Meg Ryan (except Sleepless in Seattle because I find it incredibly boring) or Julia Roberts!

Thank you so much for everything you do! You've helped me discover so many amazing fics and writers and it is much appreciated!!! 💖💖😇😎

Hello there!

Did you know there is a whole collection from the Good Omens Rom-Com Event that was run a couple years ago? You might find what you're looking for there! (Some of the fics are unfinished so keep that in mind)

We have previously recommended a bunch of You've Got Mail/She Loves Me fics HERE, so check those out.

As for the other ones you've asked about:

French Kiss AU:

A Bit of Crumpet by Fyre [E]

With a handsome, successful fiance and a respectable home in Manhattan, Aziraphale Fell thought his life was more than adequate. He never expected to be jilted in a long-distance telephone call and so he sets out for England to find out exactly what's going on and gets a lot more than he bargained for.

When Harry Met Sally AU:

it had to be you by curtaincall [M]

“What I’m saying,” said Aziraphale, looking fixedly ahead, “and please don’t take this as a personal insult in any way, is that an angel and a demon can’t be friends.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” said Aziraphale, firmly. “It’s against the order of things. You’re supposed to tempt. I’m supposed to thwart. We can’t go being friends.”

*

A canon-divergent AU inspired by When Harry Met Sally.

I don't know of any fics with your two last wishes but there is also:

Notting Hill AU:

Soho by Lurlur [E]

Aziraphale lives a quiet kind of life, running a quiet specialist bookshop in one of the liveliest districts of London. He's content with his lot, happy with his friends, tolerant of his probably-human housemate, living vicariously through the gossip pages.

One day, a chance encounter with Anthony Crowley, lead singer of wildly successful rock band The Demons, threatens to turn his whole world upside down.

Music and Lyrics AU:

pop! goes my heart by attheborder [E], WIP

When has-been musician Anthony Crowley is recruited by pop singer Anathema Device to write a song for her new record, he jumps on the chance to resuscitate his career with a hit. There's only one problem: he can't write lyrics to save his life.

But a chance meeting with a stranger by the name of Aziraphale, with a poetic streak that's a perfect fit for the song, changes everything for Crowley. Together, they'll create something beautiful, fight the forces of the music industry, and perhaps even find a way back into love...

A Music and Lyrics AU for the GO Rom Com Event, complete with all-new original songs written and recorded by the author!

Kate & Leopold AU:

Until by Nadzieja [T]

“I don’t want to go home.” Half-asleep Aziraphale murmurs into his ear and Crowley's heart clenches. His grip tightens reflexively around the warm soft body in his arms, around the smell of old books and sandalwood.

“Then don’t.” He’s trying not to sound like he's pleading, but his throat is tight and his voice hoarse.

*

Crowley lives his average life, working in a high-end advertising company at London that pays just enough to get him a room in a shared accommodation. That's just his luck that he ends up living with a literal witch. One day she brings home an even more eccentric man that has a taste for 19th century fashion, as if Crowley didn't have enough things to worry about. Little he knows that the man will turn his world upside down. Literally. And that's just the beginning of his problems.

~Mod N

[rizsu]

cashier's revenge gojo satoru.

sum. annoying ex!gojo gets his lick back. not beta read !

satoru's existence itself is a warning. is it a harzardous warning? not quite, but it's also not a good one. at this very moment, at this very precised second, gojo satoru is contemplating the consequences of clocking out of work before his shift is up. in his eyes, if it's executed properly, it can work. the only downside would be the possibility of getting fired.

he cannot afford such a tragedy. being a man in today's day and age comes at an expensive cost. one day satoru promises to find AND deliver punishment to whoever created the "men are the breadwinners." motion. he suffers from society's insane capitalism and boy might he just dive into hell. head first, even. perhaps even toes first, if he's feeling special.

satoru's current employment stems from two reasons. not one, not three, but two:

1. his urge to prove that he can be better off without you.

2. getō suguru, someone's that's just as bad as he is, told him he had the chance to do the funniest thing ever.

now, don't mistake him! gojo satoru is not easily influenced ( he is. ) he knows right from wrong ( sometimes. )

prior to him signing up as a cashier, your break-up was mutual. he agreed to let you go and you agreed that you weren't committed to being in a full relationship yet. on his vision, he hated that he had to let you go; his attachment grew and he couldn't go two days without bothering you.

it would've disgusted satoru if he made you stay with him but god he wished you would've done so.

bored and bothered, satoru fiddles with his fingers, unable to find entertainment elsewhere due to his phone's low battery warning.

"if no one enters in the next five minutes maybe i can — fuck," feeling his right eye twitch, satoru exhales a deep sigh. not only did someone enter but that unlucky customer happened to be you, y/n l/n.

his eyes following your body, praying that you magically decided to no longer buy anything. unfortunately for him, he cannot get everything he wants in life. watching you make your way to his position, he chants a line of curses before going into automatic-customer-service mode.

"hi," satoru begins, forcing his sunshine-like smile, "what would you have today? any menu specials?"

"hello! i'd like to have a — oh my god it's you.." stopping mid-sentence, you clutch the strap of your handbag. the odds weren't one hundred but they definitely weren't zero.

'am i a curse or what?' gojo thinks. your expressions most certainly didn't bypass his radar. setting his offense aside, he continues, "i'm sorry, we don't have an "oh my god it's you" on the menu!"

"sorry, i'll have the daily special," counting the money needed, you wait for him to finish his cashier duties.

"that'll be ten dollars and ninety-nine cents," satoru says, raising his hand to collect the money. for some rather peculiar reason, it seems as though a twenty dollar bill is stuck on its owner's hand.

"miss, please let go of the bill."

"whatever do you mean?"

scoffing, satoru yanks the bill out of your hand. he watches as you twist your face into disgust and shake your hand off. he's sorry, really, but he has to put himself first at times.

—

although satoru was set on escaping early, he now has a reason to stay longer. going out of his way to deliver your meal, satoru sits in front of you. he has the plot and the platform.

"here's your meal, bill, and change," sliding everything to you, he sits with folded arms. this position means business. formal business.

"thank you — but what are you doing there?" you question him, squinting your eyes at his choice of movement.

"don't question me. how have you been though?"

pulling out your fries, you tilt them to his direction, offering them to him. "i've been wonderful, you?"

"my life has been fine. i've recovered ever since you broke up with me," taking a single fry, he shakes his head as he munches.

"that's crazy but why're you even here?" you couldn't contain your curiosity.

"ever since you broke my heart, i needed to get my life back." gojo takes two fries this time, munching them in sadness.

"ah, i see." you reply.

"it's amazing that you can see ever since you broke up with—"

"do NOT finish that sentence." glaring at satoru, you shut down his pity party. whatever he has going on needs to stop.

"you stop me from doing stuff the same way you stopped my heart ever since you —" satoru tries to finish but was met with a burger being shoved in his mouth.

smiling to himself, he compliments himself as he managed to annoy you. satoru can only thank the gods that you don't despise him. even if you do then that's a problem for someone else.

on your side, you're regretting handing over your burger to him. you were sure that breaking up with him will cause a broken heart but it seems like someone's doing fine. taking a sip from your drink, you look at satoru who's happily eating your food. 'he looks cute' you think.

"satoru," you speak up, redirecting his attention from the burger and onto you.

"hm?" he hums, wiping away the sauces on his face.

inhaling a deep breath, you mentally prepare before asking him, "wanna come over tonight?"

satoru's mouth shaped like an 'O', he thinks for a while before agreeing, "i'd love to — especially after you broke up with me."

"i swear i will kill you, satoru."

[vellichorom]

feel free to ignore this but I’m a little curious lmao ,, if you were to draw korekiyo is there anything you would do to tweak his design? Or how would you draw him in general

btw korekiyo is my fav danganronpa character all three games (four bla bla bla) UGH

i fucking LOVE korekiyo shinguji man... you know what's good,

& WHAT A GOOD QUESTION TOO! i don't think i have a very interesting answer for it but...

like with MOST danganronpa character designs ( or the designs of my blorbos period ) - save for a few tweaks here & there, i'm quite content with it! now, i'm sure others would beg to differ ( & they'd probably make a better point than i would ), but he's got a good design, i think! he's an eccentric & offputting, though compellingly mysterious, leaning-toward-the-darker-aspects-of-life, & is all about his research & existing, anthropologist -- which i think his design reflects pretty well!

i think the only things i myself might change -- tweak, rather -- about the design is removing / adjusting more of the unnecessary, more tedious details; his little punk shoulder spikes for one, or replacing the mummy-wrapped hands with off-white gloves for another,

&- you know, maybe making him look a bit more... imperfectly human, as opposed to the glimmering perfection most animes incorporate into their designs; a bit of a sicklier look about him, dark circles or bags under his eyes, obviously too-long fingers ( i like thinking he's got some arachnodactyly ), some acne or scars, a bit more meat on his bones maybe, off-white teeth ( when visible ) & eyes, such & such & such ( i've also always enjoyed tanned / dark skinned korekiyo takes, man's probably out in the sun a lot... )

just little things, you know? nothing big that i can dream of personally, though i have seen the most gorgeous dangan redesigns & Especially for korekiyo that do him even More justice than the games Ever could. i can't identify any by name, BUT BELIEVE ME, there are others WAY more educated & qualified to give their two cents on his design that mean way more than whatever i say - & i Know it's as deserving of criticism as anything Else in this damn awful franchise

but hey, you'll sooner see me coming up to plate regarding his WRITING rather than his design amirite

here, FOR YOUR NICE ASK & INTEREST - a modern day korekiyo drawn by yours truly after a couple years without;

with absolutely none of my proposed tweaks added because i'm cute like that

THANK YOU FOR ASKING !!!!

[local-fire-dumpster]

I really like the concept of "what if the Asl brothers swap parents?" so here is my 2 cents to it:

Ace:

He swaps with Luffy. Obviously that would change his character quite a bit bc his daddy issues regarding Roger are an integral part of his character & how he views the world and himself. He'd still have some issues but well, if you are forced to grow up in a forest full of monsters and mountain badits bc your dad decides to fight the government and dump you with your clinically insane grandpa you'd probably have some too.

Ace has heard a lot of things about the Revolutionaries. The government and nobles would describe them as vicious devils. Some common folk would describe them as delusional.( One small group can't change how the world ticks no matter how hard they try.) Others would describe them as saviours and beacons of hope.

Given his personal experience with corrupt nobles (Gray Terminal fire), Ace understands why Dragon would want to take down the World Government as it stands.So he wouldn't really dwell too much on it and focus on his own ambitions.(Become a famous Pirate). If his father wants to be a Revolutionary then so be it.

(Also he'd definitely remind Garp about it with a smug face whenever the old man brings up joining the Marines.,which never fails to earn him a "fist of love")

Another core difference would be that he probably doesn't try and challenge Whitebeard.

I'm not sure if I remember this one properly but Ace's main reason for going after Whitebeard was that Whitebeard was Roger's Rival and Ace wanted to prove himself as quickly as possible. So if it hadn't been for that I think Ace would have sticked more to exploring the New World, improving his skills and spreading his name. He'd be a lot more laid back and sure he carries a big secret with him but it doesn't fell nearly as much of a burden as it did with Roger.

Naturally Marineford never occurs which would change things up quite a bit.

Sabo:

Sabo swaps with Ace. Sabo is a lot more level headed than Ace and would probably take the fact that Roger is his father a lot better than little Ace. That being said he would still carry certain worries and fears with him for life. What if people find out out about his secret? Would they hate him? Would they leave him?The Marines could show up and execute him any minute now.

I'm not sure whether Ace and Sabo would grow up together since infancy or whether Garp dropped Ace of at Dadans when he was older but either way the two of them would quickly grow fond of each other. Like in canon they only have each other and in a way they can bond over their secret.

Sabo doesn't hate Roger the same way Ace does. Sure he was supposed to be this terrible Pirate but one day he plans to set sail and become a Pirate himself. People would speak and think ill of him anyways he thinks.

I don't want to put him in Ace's position and make him a Whitebeard Pirate bc I doubt Sabo would be as bold as to attack an Emperor unprovoked.

Sabo still sets sail with the goal to be free and explore the world and write a book about it like in canon.

Him and Ace would probably be "rival" pirate captains. Everyone assumes there is some sort of history between them and that they are enemies but in reality it's just two brothers having a pissing contest over who can sink more Marine ships.

Luffy:

Luffy swaps with Sabo. While Ace and Sabo somehow find themselves in a little more favorable position in this Au, Luffy would find himself in a much worse position.

Being forced to wear clothes he doesn't like,restricted meals,being forced to study boring stuff,Luffy would absolutely hate all of this. His parents neglect him and abuse him verbally and emotionally on a daily level so naturally Luffy runs away like Sabo did.

Luffy is loud, eats a lot ,runs around and he loves to explore so the live of a noble would absolutely kill him on the inside.

He goes to the Gray Terminal and meets Ace and Sabo. He follows them around like in canon and when the Porchemy incident happens they finally take him in.

I'm not sure how he gets his df but since Zoan DFs are said to have a will of their own I think the fruit would have found it's way to Luffy with or without Shanks.

The part about Luffy being taken away from his brothers would definitely be different. Luffy is not Sabo. When Sabo got taken Ace trusted that Sabo can take care of himself and that he'll find his way back to them eventually.

But Luffy isn't Sabo.Luffy is their little crybaby brother who still can't protect himself. Who would give up his own live for something as trivial as keeping quite about their stolen treasure stash.

They know Luffy will suffer in High Town. Luffy knows too but he'd gladly trade his freedom for his brother's lives and they hate this.

Luffy would have a tougher time trying to escape then Sabo bc he is younger and clumsier.

Meanwhile Sabo and Ace would desperately try and make plans to free their little brother.

Maybe Dragon's ass actually helps during the fire or they end up forcing themselves to ask Garp but I can't see them leaving Luffy to his fate.

Luffy's pirate journey wouldn't change much though i guess his wanted poster having just "Luffy" means that some people don't view Luffy in the same light.

[quinloki]

How would Kid, Marco, and Zoro like a role play kink? Specifically some sort of Captured marine and big bad pirate character play? Could you also do primal play and femdom too? Please and thank you! I like this prompt a lot!

Oh man, if you want some Really Good Captured Marine and Kid vibes you need to go read The Captive by @abysscronica I can promise you won't be disappointed (It's a series too - book 1 and 2 are done and I believe 3 is ongoing.)

That said, I'll certainly give my two cents on the idea as a Role Play session \o/

Let's do this... hm, I think by kink.

Primal Play is kind of a hunter/hunted vibe. It's the dom/sub dynamic often without explicitly written or verbalized parameters.

Captured Marine / Big Bad Pirate RP:

Kid - FUCK Yes - Kid loves role-play - well, most of it. Some of it. There's a love/hate situation going on with it, he's either going to be all in for an idea, or just plain not keen on it. The more extreme the role dynamics the better, and he loves playing the bad guy. You tease him that it's almost like he thinks he needs the practice, and he probably does. He's no saint for sure, but he's not nearly the monster the Marines would have you believe.

But those teasing remarks fade away, when you get into the rough and tumble of the scene. He plays the villain well, and you find yourself feeling more and more defiant the better he plays his part. It actually gets a little bloody, but neither of you call it, the next morning though you're listening to Killer read you the riot act cause you cheek swelled up and you needed House to patch some bruises.

Marco - Sure - As long as it's not doctor/nurse he's willing to give it a try. There's emotions deep behind those lazy eyes, and that half lidded gaze, and the zing of it dances through you when he levels a truly cold gaze at you. The sound you make, caught between aroused and nervous changes his expression and he dives into it. It's more an emotional battle of wills than anything loud and physical. There's no defying him, no chance of biting back, he folds you like a house of cards and when you wake up the next day you almost half-expect to find yourself shackled to him in your early morning haze.

Zoro - Yes - The Pirate Hunter turned pirate has been in the shoes of a few roles in his short life thus far. He's not inclined to a lot of different roles, but he's certainly willing to fill the role of big bad pirate for the naughty, pardon, haughty marine who wandered into his clutches. Walking a line between Marco and Kid, he plays the role of the villain well, and he does a good job of ignoring your protests and only listening to your safe words as the scene progresses. It's not too much later after your first role-play session that he gifts you a maid outfit while he's wearing a suit.

Primal Play - I feel like, given the variances of this, for simplicity we'll focus on actual hunter/hunted roleplay:

Kid - Oh god you don't even know - Kid's not keen on the idea of "the chase" in terms of chasing you down to woo you or anything like that, but within the concept of a hunt, that's a different story. Kid has no issues getting down and dirty, and the idea of just taking you after tracking you down - the whole predator/prey concept - has him running as hot as his temper. It'll take you a good week of healing afterward, not because of any terrible wounds or anything like that, but just because he will have had his way with you until every muscle in your body was exhausted. You lose track of your orgasms by the end of it, probably lose track of your senses too, the entire thing likely to plunge you into subspace.

Marco - Yes - He's willing to give it a try, and he certainly ends up liking it. All he needs to track is you, and your safe word. Marco doesn't have Kid's particular brand of "kindness", he searches for you in the skies after giving you a decent head start.

It ends up becoming a game of cat and mouse - or more appropriately maybe Owl and Mouse, since Marco can fly. By the time you're caught you're both breathing heavy, sweat and thundering hearts, but Marco's eyes are open and wide, full of light and fire and while it's not something you do often, it is a game you repeat.

Zoro - Sure - Zoro tends to hold back in this. The hunter/hunted thing is good by him within a certain set of parameters, but the open setting of primal play is a little too unstructured for his tastes. It's too close to real, or combat, and he internally worries about keeping himself in check. He has a lot of control, and a lot of skill, so it's mostly an unfounded concern, but he knows how easily he could accidentally hurt you. So he holds back a bit, and doesn't quite get into it.

Maybe with time, he'll change his tune.

Femdom:

Kid - FUCK Yes - Oh I hope you don't think you're actually going to dominate him? This is role play sweetheart, and the closest you're going to get is trying to top him. He's going to be a complete brat through it, but he won't pull any of his dom cards for this. He's enjoying himself entirely too much. Let's see what you can do, let's see if you can actually bend him to your will?

Chances are it's going to turn into him power bottoming you more than anything else, but he loves the outfit and the little bit of reversal. With practice maybe one day you will manage to tame him, but he won't make it easy. And he will, at least, enjoy every minute of it.

Marco - Oh god you don't even know - He's not exactly a switch, but he's not not a switch either. Marco is delighted by the idea of you dominating him. The point is mutual enjoyment by the end of things, whatever the details of those things are, and if you want to guide him and boss him around, he's here for it. He's not a masochist (not that you could hurt the phoenix anyway), but you can imagine the sly smirk on his face if you're a little rough with him.

Marco doesn't seem like the kind of guy who pays you back at a later date, but surprises are surprises because you don't expect them.

Zoro - Yes - I think I've said before, but Zoro always strikes me as someone who is untested in sex until he meets you, so sure - if you want to teach him the ways of dominating by example, then please do so. He's a good student, after all, and it's only proper that the student eventually surpasses their teacher.

And if the role of who surpasses who happens to trade back and forth a few times? Well, who's he to complain? The best way to learn is by doing, and he has the stamina and focus to keep going.

Kinky One Piece Head Canon

[nostalgicninjas]

2012 Leorai Rant

there’s so much discourse about whether 2012 leorai is considered incest or not and i kinda wanted to throw my two cents in ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i grew up with the 2012 series, and as a kid, i was a hardcore leorai fan. now as an adult, i’ve become neutral to the ship (though it will always hold a special place in my heart for nostalgic purposes). overall my thoughts/perspective on leorai have changed a lot over the years. i’ve grown to ship them more with other people (‼️ aprinardo and shinirai supremacy ‼️) while still loving and appreciating their canon dynamic. personally, i don’t view their relationship as entirely platonic or romantic. on one hand, i believe leo and karai do love each other like family (the same way all the turtles love april and casey like family) but they also connect on a deeper level that’s too intimate to call them “siblings”. it’s not as black and white as them being either brother/sister or boyfriend/girlfriend. to me, their relationship has so many layers it’s too complex for labels. which is fine because labels are overrated anyway. but that’s just my opinion.

i completely get why some people (especially those with adopted family members) think the relationship is weird, and i also get why some people see no problem with it. at the end of the day, it all depends on an individual’s life experiences or personal preferences.

note: if two people are biologically blood relatives, then an intimate/sexual relationship between them is 100% incest and i do not support or condone such behavior.

in this particular case however, i believe there is a difference between real incest and what society views to be incest. imagine two people have been dating for a while and then their parents fall in love and decide to get married. are they supposed to just turn their feelings off for each other and break up because they are now “technically siblings”? i’m sorry to break it to you but that’s not how emotions work. emotions are complicated. and frankly it seems wrong to try to force two people to think/feel a certain way about each other just because it’s what society excepts. i have always been a firm believer that people should be free to follow their hearts and love who they love. if there is no blood or biological connection involved (or any other illegal factors), then i see no reason why people can’t be free to choose how they get to view a person or how they wish for those relationships to develop. because in this case, love is not a crime.

in a way, the same can be said for leo and karai. first impressions count for something, and leo had already developed feelings for karai long before he found out she was splinter’s daughter. i know most people would disagree, but just because they view the same man as a father figure does not make them obligated to view each other as siblings. just because mikey CHOOSES to view karai as a sister does not mean leo is obligated to view her the same way. same goes for raph and donnie. from what was shown in the series, those two (especially raph) hardly considered karai to be a part of their immediate family, much less considered her a sister. and that’s their right. as much as i’m sure we all wanted to see the turtles and karai come together (and trust me i did too), donnie and raph had valid reasons to dislike/distrust karai and they shouldn’t be forced to brush their justified feelings aside and immediately accept her as a “sister” if they don’t want to. they may view her as an ally/asset to the team, but if they don’t want to view her as family, then they shouldn’t have to (though i’m sure they would eventually accept her in the future; whether or not as a sister or just a distant family member, we’ll never know).

i even once saw an anti shipper say that if shipping leorai isn’t incest because they aren’t blood related, then it shouldn’t be considered incest when shipping the turtles with splinter since they also aren’t blood related. that’s a really gross comparison for multiple reasons but mainly;

1.) the turtles are all MINORS and splinter is a grown ass man which is reason enough because W T F

and

2.) splinter has always viewed the turtles as his children and the turtles have always viewed him as their father. for him to suddenly take any kind of sexual interest in them is downright predatory, blood or no blood.

as for the whole “whether or not they share dna” debate, that’s honestly up to interpretation. splinter was never actually seen touching the turtles, so it’s not a canon fact that they actually absorbed any of his human dna when they mutated. and even if they had, the notion that this automatically makes them biological relatives to splinter is actually quite comical. that’s like saying the radioactive spider that gave peter parker superpowers is suddenly his new father. sounds silly, doesn’t it?

overall, i hate it when careless leorai fans make insensitive statements about adopted families, and i also hate it when anti shippers treat leorai fans like freaks just for having a different perspective on their relationship. if you prefer to think of them as brother and sister, then that’s cool. we’re all entitled to our opinions. what’s not cool is constantly harassing fans of the ship and shoving your “sibling” agenda down their throats (and vice versa).

to borrow a paragraph from @orokukarai’s rant:

If the ship makes you uncomfortable, whether it's for personal reasons or you're just not vibing, that's OK. If you personally see it as incestual, that's valid. But going around saying Leorai shippers all like or support incest is not true and there are many valid readings where they're not incestual even if you disagree with them. Some shippers probably do like incest, but then so do many non-Leorai shippers.

in conclusion, respect other people’s opinions. if you stumble across content you don’t like, block or ignore it. no need to comment hate or fill up the ship hashtags with negativity (and that goes for ALL fandoms).

just stay in your lane and keep scrolling ✌️

[misandry-is-justified]

Proof Johnny Depp Lied

Johnny Depp lied in the trial and its proven both in the court recordings and in the transcripts.

Early on in the trial, Ambers lawyer asks if Johnny Depp sent the following text messages:

«Right. Exactly. Molly's pussy is rightfully mine. Should I not just bust in and remove its hinges tonight?»

«"I want to change her understanding of what it is like to be thrashed about like a pleading Mackrel.»

«I NEED. I WANT. I TAKE.»

He denies it, claiming that he never said these words, and when presented with the evidence, that he did not send those messages (even though they were sent from his device). Claims of impersonation are, at the best of times, convenient but during the same examination he proves himself a liar when another text message is presented, written in the same style and he admits to writing it.

He does not dispute writing the following text, admitting with a clear «i most certainly did» when asked if he sent it:

«She's begging for total global humiliation. She's going to get it. I'm gonna need your texts about San Francisco, brother. I'm even sorry to ask. But, she sucked Mollusk's crooked dick and he gave her some shitty lawyers. I have no mercy, no fear, and not an ounce of emotion, or what I once thought was love for this gold digging, low level, dime a dozen, mushy, pointless dangling overused flappy fish market.

I'm so fucking happy she wants to go to fight this out. She will hit the wall hard. And I cannot wait to have this waste of a cum guzzler out of my life. I met a fucking sublime little Russian here, which made me realize the time I blew on that 50 cent stripper. I wouldn't touch her with a goddamn glove. I can only hope that karma kicks in and takes the gift of breath from her. Sorry, man. But, now, I will stop at nothing. Let's see if Mollusk has a pair. Come see me face to face. I'll show him things he's never seen before. Like the other side of his dick when I slice it off.»»

The idea that he did not write the first text message is proven by the admission of writing the second. The writing style is the same. The idea that he did not write the first was laughable to begin with, but for this bogeyman impersonator to replicate his texting style with such accuracy? If these two instances alone do not prove it you can keyword search «text» in the transcripts and see for yourselves what i mean, for this messaging style is quite consistent with all of the others he admits to sending throughout the trial. This proves his guilt and this was the moment i knew he is a liar.

If he lied about this, so minor a message (because lets be honest nobody cares if you say demeaning things about women) for the sake of his reputation, what else was he lying about during this trial? He so obviously lied about so much more but the charisma of the more experienced actor won in the end.

Transcript sections and a link to the whole transcript and recording are provided below. The sections i copied are from pages 67-75. The date of this part of the trial was 25th May 2022 (Trial day 22 according to the video but 23 according to the transcript.)

Mr. Rottenborn: Mr. Depp, these are text messages from you to Stephen Deuters on February 22nd, 2017, correct? Mr. Depp: No. This looks nothing like me. You might have mistaken... Mr. Rottenborn: Mr. Depp, we can show the full unredacted...you've looked at a number of text messages in this case, and the words "Him" as the identifier, that's you, correct, in every text message we've seen in this case? Mr. Depp: Yeah. Sure. It still doesn't mean it hasn't been screwed with. That's not anything that I've ever said or written. Mr. Rottenborn: You want to see the whole thing unredacted? We can look at that, too. Mr. Depp: No. It's because you could have typed it up last night. No. Mr. Rottenborn: I can assure you I didn't type it up last night, Mr. Depp. Your Honor, I move for the admission of Exhibit 883.

-gap-

Mr. Rottenborn: Thank you. Mr. Depp, you're aware these are text messages...you can see the bottom right where it says "Depp" and then it has a number, 8129? Those are produced by you in this litigation. You understand that, right? Mr. Depp: I understand that. Mr. Rottenborn: All right. Michelle, could you please...let's take a look at the top text first. Mr. Depp, on February 22nd, 2017, you texted Mr. Deuters, "Right. Exactly. Molly's pussy is rightfully mine. Should I not just bust in and remove its hinges tonight?" Did I read that right? Mr. Depp: You read it right. Mr. Rottenborn: And the one beneath that, you say, "I want to change her understanding of what it is like to be thrashed about like a pleading Mackrel." And then in all caps, you write, "I NEED. I WANT. I TAKE." That right?

Mr. Depp: You read it right, but I did not write that. Mr. Rottenborn: Okay. Mr. Depp: Perhaps someone [inaudible 02:41:52] phone. Mr. Rottenborn: You wrote every other text that you produced, that came from you in this litigation, didn't you? Mr. Depp: Not necessarily. Sometimes you give your phone to people and they...

-gap-

Mr. Rottenborn: My apologies, Your Honor. Mr. Depp, you sent this text

to Christian Carino on August 15th?

Mr. Depp: I most certainly did.

-gap-

Mr. Rottenborn: Thank you, Your Honor. And in this text, Mr. Depp, you said, "She's begging for total global humiliation. She's going to get it. I'm gonna need your texts about San Francisco, brother. I'm even sorry to ask. But, she sucked Mollusk's crooked dick and he gave her some shitty lawyers. I have no mercy, no fear, and not an ounce of emotion, or what I once thought was love for this gold digging, low level, dime a dozen, mushy, pointless dangling overused flappy fish market.

I'm so fucking happy she wants to go to fight this out. She will hit the wall hard. And I cannot wait to have this waste of a cum guzzler out of my life. I met a fucking sublime little Russian here, which made me realize the time I blew on that 50 cent stripper. I wouldn't touch her with a goddamn glove. I can only hope that karma kicks in and takes the gift of breath from her. Sorry, man. But, now, I will stop at nothing. Let's see if Mollusk has a pair. Come see me face to face. I'll show him things he's never seen before. Like the other side of his dick when I slice it off." Did I read that right? Mr. Depp: You did.

[sometimes-men-need-help-too]

Helpline for male domestic abuse victims struggles to cope amid pandemic surge

This was back in 2021 but I wanted to share it anyway

A helpline for male victims of domestic violence is struggling to cope with the volume of calls because of a 35 per cent spike in the numbers seeking help during the pandemic.

Men’s Aid Ireland says it dealt with about 5,500 contacts during 2020, a figure it projects will grow again to 9,000 this year based on a further surge in January and February.

Kathrina Bentley, the organisation's chief executive, said calls are also getting "more worrying and concerning" and their "seriously stretched" three part-time helpline staff are struggling to cope with demand.

“During the last week of January and first week of February, within 10 days we had five very serious suicide situations at the end of the phone,” she said.

“ We had to get Garda assistance for two of them, ring ahead to a hospital for a third and we talked the other two men down.”

The common thread in calls is an abusive relationship, in 95 per cent of cases involving a wife or female partner.

“Hitting me, kicking me, spitting on me, telling me I’m a useless father, telling me I’m crap, telling me I don’t bring in enough income,” she recounted the calls.

“One man said he sleeps in the spare room and his wife soaks his mattress during the day with cold water and leaves the windows open before he comes home from work. So he sleeps on the floor.

“There are pure emotional and psychological games, men who have no access to funds, their partners controlling their finances.”

Funding

Ms Bentley said the organisation sought and was refused funding for a 24/7 helpline from the State’s child and family agency Tusla, which she criticises for allocating 1 per cent of its domestic, sexual and gender based violence (DSGBV) funding to the service.

Along with the Men’s Development Network, it is one of just two Tusla-funded services dedicated to male victims.

Men’s Aid Ireland has €244,000 funding for its six staff operation this year, an increase of €5,000 on last year.

In January, about 600 men contacted the service, and at least 80 calls were missed because the helpline – which runs from 9am to 5pm on weekdays – can only deal with two callers at any one time.

“It is really worrying,” said Ms Bentley. “Every phone call, we can save or change a life, that is the frontline day to day reality of it. Our small organisation took on the war that is the pandemic of Covid, and the war that is the pandemic of violence, but we are in the trenches with no ammunition.”

Ms Bentley said callers include accountants, gardaí, politicians, doctors, gardeners, postmen, the military, tradesmen and the unemployed.

Some are on the minimum wage while others “live in multi-million euro houses and behind the front door is domestic violence”.

Many are victims of coercive control – “a silent, invisible pattern of abusive behaviour over time” – which she says is “catastrophic for families, children as well as men’s lives and their careers”.

Ages range from 19 to 83 years old, but particularly between 40 to 55.

“It is incredible for a man to have the courage to pick up the phone in the first place,” she said.

“How disappointing and heartbreaking it is when no-one answers that phone.”

‘Bad patch’

Citing a report by Cosc – The National Office for the Prevention of Domestic, Sexual and Gender-based Violence – that shows one in seven men experience domestic abuse in their lifetime, and 95 per cent do not contact gardai, Ms Bentley suggested the numbers not seeking help could be as high as “a couple of hundred thousand”.

Ms Bentley said callers often don’t see themselves as victims of domestic abuse and hope it is a “bad patch” that will pass because they don’t want the family to break up. “When you ask them how long it has been going on for, and they say three to six years, well that’s not a bad patch in a relationship, that is an abusive relationship.”

In response to calls in a parliamentary question for a 24/7 national helpline, Minister for Children Roderic O’Gorman said the Government was currently carrying out an audit of DSGBV services.

There was no comment from Tusla.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hi! Loved your season finale recap and I agree with most of what you said 🙂‍↕️

I’d like to offer my two cents regarding Devil’s Minion specifically! From what I have gathered not only from what the show has explicitly shown and told us, but also from cast/showrunners interviews etc., I can honestly say that when it comes right down to it, I just don’t think Rolin is that interested in exploring the relationship between Armand and Daniel in depth… yet. He might do so in the future or change his mind and actually do it in S3, but his current kinda blasé attitude towards them as a pairing makes me think so. He clearly has different priorities right now wrt Lestat, Akasha, TotBT stuff, etc., and he has been very honest when he says that the main reason they turned Daniel into a vampire this early in the game is because they wanted to end the season with a “shocking” twist/on a high note in case they didn’t get renewed, and because he wanted to give his buddy Eric the fangs he’d been longing for for literal decades (and good for him for getting them!). He’s like “don’t worry DM fans, they’ll get some scenes together and at the end of the day Armand turned Daniel so 👍 it’s ok 👍”, but seems to be a lot more focused on Daniel’s individual journey as a vampire, and what it means to be a vampire who was turned as a sick, old man and who now has nothing to lose and is making the most of his immortal life. And I’m personally looking forward to their take and I think Eric will kill it (no pun intended), but also I’m a little disappointed because if they do DM and actually go there in terms of their canon relationship…. It’s going to take a loooong time for them to get there imo, and waiting literal years is going to suck. Not saying I’m not going to do it because I actually might lol, I’m just trying to be as realistic as possible atm.

I think… I think Rolin is going to put the Body Thief arc in-between and that is why DM is going to be pushed back a bit. Which DOES make sense in the long run, but is unsatisfactory right now, I do understand.

But… I do think we’ll get our seasons, and they will do them justice. As I said in my post therefore moments I wished we were already on season 4^^

Butttttt … it is what it is. We‘ll have to enjoy the journey ^^