#(to the person who donated $10 to me last month that i said i was going to use for pads: my bank account was charged that same day with a

[weedstop]

like full disclosure, i have no money. i have no income anymore. i’m not doing well, i’m barely able to take care of myself physically.

the weed photos i post on this blog are either old, or it’s cannabis i got for free with purchases from the dispensary last year when i was able to afford to still go to the dispensary. (which is nearly gone at this point) like i’m not living frivolously in the slightest.

i cannot afford pads, or shampoo, or toothpaste, or anything other than food because i’m on food stamps. (ebt) :(

not being able to afford period products is my most pressing issue at the moment.

if you’d like to order me some pads here is my amazon wish list:

https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/2HAW552YBMUFX?ref_=wl_share

If you’d like to help me get pads but you don’t want to use amazon, you can donate to me through

cashapp: $ematriple

venmo: @ematriple

paypal: @ematriple

ko-fi: /weedstop

of course i don’t expect anything, i’m just throwing this out there in case anyone wants to help.

EDIT: someone from that period pantry subreddit ordered me some pads from my wishlist. <333 i’m still struggling financially if you care to donate but my immediate need has been met and the pads will be here in a couple days

[psi-hate]

hey all. once again i'm frustratingly backed into a corner regarding my irl situation. as i posted earlier, my assistant manager informed me so much of the workplace abuse i've suffered these last few months have been a result of transphobic discrimination by my boss. after months or working 10+ hours overtime a week, consistently covering my boss's shifts because he decided not to show up, lack of training, safety issues and sabotage by giving me false information about my job tasks, just to start, it broke me. my A.M. is a really sweet man who is a queer person of color and stood up for me and my girlfriend whenever our boss would talk shit about us behind our back, but finally couldn't take it anymore and quit, telling me everything that's been happening. my boss has been trying to get me to quit by denying me a raise he promised, along with all sorts of other lies and misgendering. it's been weighing on me for months and it's all crashing down. we can't work there anymore. our boss is literally interviewing our replacements TODAY because he said he doesn't think we'll last the abuse.

problem is, financially speaking, we don't have much of a choice. i have a couple months of savings for rent, but that's pushing it. i'm sure i could find something in that time, and have been applying for a few weeks now, but my options are really limited regarding transportation. i want to try and get a car to help getting a job outside of our limited walk-able options, but currently i can't afford one *and* rent at the same time.

that being said, i'm going to be trying to do commissions while i'm working things out. if you'd like to help me out, it'd mean a lot to me.

https://paypal.me/George578?country.x=US&locale.x=en_US

Some examples of my work! Feel free to reach out for quotes. Estimated price for these would be ~$50-$100

Thanks so much.

[lonniemachin]

JEWELRY RAFFLE FOR PALESTINIAN RELIEF

A local artisan was kind enough to provide me with 8 pieces of authentic crystal jewelry to offer for donation funds — as I am unsure how to go about doing an auction, I’ve decided to open a raffle supporting three different campaigns for Palestinian families looking to evacuate Gaza or in need of survival aid while in Gaza.

These families are:

Ahmed and Maram’s family (in Euro)

Mohammed Shamia’s family (in Swedish kroner)

Marah Atallah’s family (in USD)

All families are 100% legitimate — I have been in contact with Maram and Ahmed for months, who have provided me multiple pictures, videos, and recordings of their situation. They have been featured in a video by YouTuber Ro Ramdin and have been vetted by @/el-shab-hussein. I am also in consistent contact with their beneficiary through a group chat who updates us on the movement of all money.

Mohammed’s family has multiple pictures and videos of their situation on family member Ahmad’s Twitter/X account proving their legitimacy. I have personally communicated with Ahmad and his history online stretches back far before 10/7. His campaign has been SEVERELY stagnant, often going 20+ days before receiving a donation. He is trying to raise enough to evacuate his sister and her two children.

I personally connected Marah to the one managing her campaign, who is a friend of mine. Marah is also friends in-person with other verified families over on Twitter/X, where she posts pictures and videos of she and her family’s situation. They use all money raised to survive displacement in Gaza and to save up enough to register for evacuation when the time is right. Marah’s campaign has been shared by @/90-ghost.

Donate the amount equivalent to the value of the piece to any one of these campaigns, DM me proof of your donation, and tell me which piece you are interested in (send the number and letter listed next to the description of the piece). I will enter your name into a raffle for the piece you would like. One donation = one entry. At the end of the raffle, I will randomly choose one recipient per piece, contact said recipient for details, and mail the piece to you.

From left to right: A pair of Rutilated Quartz earrings valued $20 (E1), a pair of Kunzite earrings valued $18 (E2), and a pair of multi tourmaline earrings valued $20 (E3).

From left to right: A labradorite, aura quartz, clear aura crackle quartz, and sea sediment jasper bracelet valued $30 (B1), and a chrysocolla, morganite, phosphosiderite, and yellow opal bracelet valued $30 (B2).

From left to right: A clear quartz necklace valued $30 (N1), a red tiger’s eye necklace valued $30 (N2), and a flower agate, rose quartz, lepidolite, strawberry quartz, and clear quartz necklace valued $32 (N3).

If you can’t participate, that’s okay! Please share this post so that others may see and enter to win some beautiful jewelry for the most important cause — saving lives.

Raffle lasts until 09/09/2024. That’s one month to enter!

[chimcess]

Waterlog || pjm (6)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 9.4K+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: ANGST, crying, mental health issues, talking about mental health, I'm so soft for them it's actually wild, angst, trauma, panic attacks, kissing, ableism, mention of past alcohol abuse, talk of previous sexual encounters, talks of bullying, probably poor swimming terminology, I also have no idea how swim events work so might be wrong about that too, talks of possible inappropriate coach-athlete relationship, lots of insecurities, survivor's guilt, lots of guilt and shame actually, reader needs to be kinder to herself, we all deserve a Jimin, he's still best boyfriend, SMUT, smut warnings under the cut...

prev || masterlist || next || playlist

Smut Warnings: virgin!Jimin, both of them are inexperienced, bad past sexual experiences, vaginal fingering, praise, public sexual contact, denied orgasm (unintentional), very vanilla and tame all things considered

Jimin stood a few feet away, his hands tangled in his hair as he smeared a thick layer of gelatin through the strands. The sight of him working so meticulously brought a smile to my face. It was a familiar scene for synchronized swimmers, their hair slicked down with the sticky goo to ward off chlorine’s wrath. But I knew a few racers who swore by it too. Jimin had never bothered before I pointed out how his hair was looking increasingly parched from our relentless days in the pool. I had shown him how to do it a few weeks ago, and now it was a daily ritual for him.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, fighting the urge to reach out and trace my fingers over the smooth expanse of his back. The phases of the moon inked down his spine were an irresistible temptation; I longed to press my lips against the artwork.

The event had been a last-minute switcheroo—originally slated for solo swimmers covering 250 yards (10 laps in this community pool), but changed when the organizers realized the length of the meet would be an endurance test in itself. Now, competitors were grouped into teams of five, each swimmer tackling two laps. Jimin was content with his team but jittery about being assigned breaststroke, his weakest stroke. Yet, I had no doubts. After months of grueling practice, his team wasn’t about to falter.

“It is what it is,” he muttered, rinsing the gelatin from his hands. “I’m more bummed about having to redirect our donations, but at least it’s still going to cancer research. Can’t complain too much.”

“Just have fun,” I offered. “Trey got to pick the charity because he pulled in the most personal donations from your team. Just do your thing and it’ll be great.”

I fiddled with the collar of my polo shirt, still struggling to accept the coach’s uniform of polo and jeans. It seemed every other coach in the pool wore it, but I felt more like a middle-aged man at a barbecue than a swim coach. The Sketchers I wore didn’t help. Jimin had picked the dark blue color for me, which was comfy enough, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I looked ridiculous.

“You look great,” Jimin said, catching my eye in the mirror.

I snorted, rolling my eyes. He’d been saying that all day, but I struggled to take him seriously. My reflection told a different story—frumpy and awkward. At least the bit of makeup I’d applied managed to make me look somewhat alive.

“I’m serious,” he insisted, adjusting his swim cap. “You look nice in that color. I even like the eyeliner thing you did. You look pretty. You always look pretty.”

I smiled, wanting desperately to kiss him but feeling too on edge. We’d sworn to keep our relationship under wraps. This year was bound to be chaotic, and the last thing we needed was reporters sniffing around if the word got out. We were confident we could manage it, but as I let my eyes roam over his mostly naked body, and with the thrill of his compliment still fresh, I wasn’t so sure.

How was I supposed to keep my hands to myself when he looked like that? His presence was almost a tangible force, and the temptation was just too great. 

“Thanks,” I said, trying to mask the tension in my voice. “Are you almost ready to join the others? William seemed really excited to work with you.”

He shook his head, a pout forming on his lips, and the sight of it made my heart race. 

“Socializing is important,” I teased, reaching out to touch his arm. “What would people think if you spent all your time locked up in your changing room with your coach?”

A mischievous grin spread across his face before he leaned in and stole a quick kiss. I gave him a warning look, though the smile I couldn't suppress gave away my true feelings. 

“I think they’d take one look at you and understand.”

I giggled, “Such a flirt.”

Jimin wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me close. The heat of his bare skin against mine sent shivers down my spine. It had never really occurred to me that he might be doing this on purpose. Hoseok’s words still echoed in my mind. Right now, Jimin seemed at ease with physical intimacy, but I knew better. If I tried to take things further, he would retreat and change the subject. 

This was something we’d have to address when we got home. For now, I wanted to see how far we could push things. If he wanted to stop, we would. But I didn’t mind being the guinea pig for this exploration.

I hopped onto the bathroom sink, wrapping my legs around one of his. We had taken over the family restroom at the event center, Jimin having convinced the others he needed solitude to get “in the zone” before his swim. I trailed behind him dutifully, my sunglasses barely hiding my excitement.

Jimin’s hands traced down my sides as I wrapped my arms around his neck. He fit against me like a perfect puzzle piece. When his fingers slid under my shirt to grip my waist, I couldn’t help but grind my hips against his thigh. The jeans dulled the sensation, but I sighed in pleasure. Jimin froze.

“Sorry,” I murmured, nuzzling into his neck, mortified. “Got carried away.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, his voice deep and rugged, stirring something primal within me. I bit back the more selfish, needy side of me and just held him. If he couldn’t see my face, maybe he wouldn’t know how desperate I was. “Do you want to do it again?”

I leaned back to look at him. His shyness was evident, but he wasn’t scared. I needed to be sure before getting excited.

“Do you want me to?”

He nodded, “Yes.”

“Are you sure? We can talk about it later if you want.”

Jimin shook his head, his grip on my waist tightening. The sensation was almost too much to bear. I suppressed the intense arousal for his sake. I wasn’t going to get off on his thigh, especially with these jeans on, but I was willing to go along if it meant something to him.

“I want to make you feel good,” he said softly, as though confessing a secret. “I just don’t know if I’ll be good at it.”

“Baby,” I cooed, gently caressing his face. He avoided eye contact. “Hey, look at me.”

He did.

“Don’t worry about that stuff,” I whispered, kissing the tip of his nose. “Whatever we do together is going to feel good because we’re together.”

He shook his head, resting his forehead against mine. He seemed anxious, almost sad. I wished he’d open up more; it might ease his burden.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” he groaned. “I want you so bad but I get nervous.”

I nodded. “That’s okay. You make me nervous too.”

We stood there, both caught in our tangled emotions. We had arrived early so Jimin could scout and time his warm-up routine before the event. I felt conflicted—my body was slick with desire, and despite knowing he was upset, I still wanted him to touch me. The fact that I was even keeping track of time for a quickie was almost criminal.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Chim,” I breathed, kissing his cheek. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Is it because you don’t want to or because you’re worried about me?”

I didn’t have a good answer. I didn’t want to make him feel guilty, but I was so afraid of hurting him that I struggled to articulate what I wanted. My fear of rejection was overshadowed by concern for him.

“Can I touch you?” he asked.

I nodded, “Of course you can. I’m just worried about you right now. You seem upset.”

His hands slowly traveled up my shirt. I leaned back slightly, granting him better access. His hands ventured higher, and he admitted, “I’m not very experienced. It makes me feel insecure.”

His hands stopped just below my bra. “I know you’re older and have been with more people.”

I nodded, understanding his hesitation. I didn’t need the whole story to grasp what he was trying to tell me.

“I’ve only been with one person,” I confessed. “You don’t have a reason to be insecure. It’s just me. Just us.”

He kissed me, and my fingernails dug into his shoulders. He pulled away, and I nearly cried out in frustration. He was driving me insane.

“It was one for me too,” he said, his hands tracing down my back. “It couldn’t… perform.”

The pieces fell into place. He was a virgin. It all made sense now.

“Did you ever…?” I asked, kissing up his neck.

“No. She told a bunch of her friends, and I got picked on for a while. I never tried again. Swimming took up so much of my time that it never came up.”

My heart broke for him. I wanted to know who had hurt my beautiful boy. I took a moment to calm myself, planting gentle kisses on his skin to soothe him.

“Fuck her,” I said softly.

He chuckled, his hands moving back to my stomach, then lower. I bit his ear playfully, and he moaned, slipping his hand into my pants. I could barely contain my pleasure. 

“We’re not having sex here,” I said, trying to ease the pressure. “I won’t touch you unless you want me to.”

He nodded, his gaze focused on my lap. He was still touching me over my panties, and the sensation was almost unbearable. I was almost ashamed of how wet I was, but after months of frustration, it felt almost justified.

“What time is it?” he asked.

I lifted my wrist. “We have twenty minutes before warm-ups.”

He nodded, slipping a finger into my panties. I jolted at the cold touch. He leaned in and kissed my cheek.

“Do you want to stop?”

I shook my head, “Not if you don’t want to.”

He looked into my eyes as his finger gently traced up and down my folds. I sighed in relief, letting my eyes slip shut, focusing on the pleasure he was giving me. 

His finger pressed against my entrance, and when he felt no resistance, he pushed it in all the way. I moaned, opening my legs wider. His movements were tentative at first, but soon became more confident, his strokes deep and deliberate. My body was on fire with need.

“Right there,” I choked out, leaning back into the mirror.

His fingers hit the same spot again, and I shuddered, trying to muffle my cries. Jimin’s touches were more assured now, making my toes curl.

“Yeah?” he cooed, adding another finger. My eyes rolled back in ecstasy. “You’re so perfect.”

I could feel myself shaking, my hands gripping his arm for support. I was so close, and my muffled moans were becoming harder to control.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

My eyes flew open. I looked at Jimin, then the door, and back to him. His pupils were almost entirely dilated, and he was flushed a pretty pink. His fingers were still deep inside me.

“Tara?” a voice called out. “Are you in there?”

“Wrong bathroom,” Jimin called out, fingers still moving. I watched him, biting my lip to keep quiet. “Sorry.”

“Oh! My bad.”

The man’s footsteps faded away.

“Time?” he asked.

I checked my watch and sighed. Jimin slowly withdrew his fingers, and I almost choked on my own breath when he put them in his mouth. 

“Later,” he promised.

It was a promise that weighed heavily. I fought between being his girlfriend and his coach. The girlfriend wanted to forget everything else and keep him here. The coach knew better and that I would regret keeping him from something so important to him. 

“Let’s go kick some ass,” I said, kissing him one last time before sliding off the counter. “You leave first. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

He scoffed and took my hand. “I’m not leaving you after what we just did.”

“Such a gentleman,” I giggled, leaning into his side. “Make sure no one’s around, and we’ll leave together.”

We were the first ones at the pool, a handful of reporters already lurking around the bleachers, eager to catch the first glimpse of the swimmers. Jimin and I had let go of each other before entering the pool room, our roles as coach and trainee now firmly back in place. My steps slowed as I turned to him.

“I’ll hang back,” I said, my weariness of the press still gripping me. No one seemed to recognize me yet, and Jimin was an effective buffer. “Go and play nice.”

He flashed me a grin. “I’m an American sweetheart, angel. The people love me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, sweetheart, you better start talking. We’ve got warm-ups to do. Unless you want to cramp up and lose. If that’s your plan, be my guest.”

As Jimin charmed the cameras, I mentally reviewed our plan for the day. Regardless of the outcome, we were hitting the town for food and drinks. It was a perfect way to build rapport and expand our network. The more connections we made, the more likely someone would pass our name to a sponsor.

It struck me as odd that Jimin wasn’t a sponsor or ambassador for any major brands despite his popularity. When I asked him about it, he mentioned Hamilton’s belief that endorsements would be a distraction. His mother thought Hamilton was just jealous of Jimin’s success. I had to side with Nayeon on this one.

I was already working on securing a deal with Nike or Adidas. Their sportswear was among the most recognized worldwide, and getting Jimin’s face out there would set him up nicely for life after the Olympics. He had at least one, maybe two, more Olympics before retirement, and sponsors could provide the financial cushion he needed while he focused on swimming.

I’d reached out to an old contact at Speedo, who was eager to get the endorsement process rolling. Miguel, the rep I’d always dealt with, was thrilled about the newest hot swimmer in town. A shipment of gear was on its way, and I was awaiting confirmation from advertising about a potential campaign. I hadn’t anticipated this, but Speedo seemed eager to be one of Jimin’s first endorsements. I planned to discuss it with him once the charity event was over.

“Ready?”

I jumped, Jimin’s laugh ringing in my ears. 

“Yeah, yeah,” I teased. “Laugh it up. Just take off your clothes and get in the water.”

Jimin stuck his tongue out at me, peeling off his jacket and tossing it on his gear bag. His flip-flops followed, and before long, he was in the water. I stood at the edge, watching him as he began his laps. This was more about stretching than training, and I reminded him to take it slow.

The pool began to fill with other swimmers practicing their strokes. Jimin and the others tagged each other in and out, getting used to the relay transitions. I watched with pride. His breaststroke was impressive. His progress was a testament to his hard work, and I felt honored to be part of his journey. Relationship aside, he was dedicated, and it was a pleasure to work with him.

“He looks good,” Coach Tyler Moore said, his gaze fixed on Jimin. “Better than when he was with that other guy. Kid’s a beast.”

“Good for a short guy,” Nicole, another coach, joked.

Jimin’s height was always a topic of discussion. His shorter stature seemed to be a disadvantage, especially against the taller Olympic swimmers. Most of the men in the category were at least six feet tall, and the women were often taller than Park, myself included.

“He’s a great swimmer,” I replied. “He’s fast and strong. Could probably bench-press a bear if he tried.”

Tyler chuckled. “Do you think he’ll place at the Olympics?”

I nodded. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Girl’s a recluse,” a familiar dry voice drawled beside me.

I chuckled. Summer Lewis, an old friend from high school, had unexpectedly shown up. It was a welcome surprise that eased some of my nerves.

“Thought hell would freeze over before she was back in public,” Summer said. “Do you even leave the house?”

“Yes,” I said, trying to keep the smile on my face. “Obviously. I’m here right now.”

“How are you feeling?” she asked, glancing at me as the others dispersed to speak with reporters. “Leg holding up?”

“Yeah. I still get some pain, especially in the cold, but I’m managing. Alive, so I can’t complain too much.”

The same couldn’t be said for Namjoon. I pushed that thought aside. There was no room for survivor’s guilt today. I was happy. Everything was coming together. He would be happy for me. But he’s dead.

I took a deep breath, my anxiety escalating. The reporters were closing in, and the thought of interacting with them made me physically ill. My stomach churned, and I fought to keep the panic at bay. It was irrational, but I was sweating like a pig.

“Do you miss it?” Summer asked, gesturing toward the pool.

“All the time,” I admitted, a bead of sweat trickling down my neck. “Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom real quick. Let Park know if he starts looking for me.”

Summer nodded. “We’ll be starting in ten.”

“I’ll be back before then.”

Jimin looked my way as I glanced back at him. He gave me a thumbs-up, and I nodded in return, signaling that I’d be back shortly. He needed to stay focused on the water and his team.

I squeezed my hand into a fist, tucking my thumb underneath my index finger and popping it through the other side. I waved my wrist, signaling that I needed to use the restroom. He nodded, and I saw him relax a bit. Good. I just needed a few minutes to collect myself.

I splashed water on my face, my reflection in the bathroom mirror staring back at me. Today was overwhelming. My anxiety was through the roof, and the makeup on my face felt like a mask. It looked fine, as it always did, but it only made me feel more insecure. I looked like I was trying too hard, and everyone knew it. God, I was such an idiot.

And then there was Jimin.

I let a single tear slip. It was inappropriate and disrespectful. He was so nervous and scared, and I’d brushed off his vulnerability because of what? I hadn’t had any in a while? I was no better than the men I despised.

I gave myself two minutes to cry, letting the guilt and shame flow out. Once my watch beeped, I dabbed my face with tissues and fixed my hair. Whatever was going on with me would have to wait. Jimin was counting on me.

As I opened the bathroom door, I collided with a solid chest. I stumbled back, barely catching myself on the wall. The person I bumped into remained still.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, adjusting my clothes. “Are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine.”

The voice was unmistakable. 

Standing in front of me was Matthew Hamilton, his blonde hair starting to silver and slicked back with too much hairspray. His pale blue eyes, devoid of warmth, still unsettled me. He was built like an ox and as healthy as ever, but age was catching up.

“Good to see you, Otter,” he said, his tone dripping with boredom. “Seems like you got stuck with my leftovers.”

I was too furious to speak. How dare he speak about Jimin like that? I had to hold myself together before I lost control. I was already at my breaking point, and his condescending attitude was the last straw.

“Too bad they couldn’t find a swimmer up to your caliber,” he continued, seemingly oblivious to the offense. “Even with a limp, you deserve better than Park. Kid’s got no spirit, and don’t even get me started on the drinking.”

I scoffed. “Jimin doesn’t drink.”

“Not anymore, maybe,” Hamilton said casually, as if trying to make small talk. “He used to drink like a fish until his brother died. Working with him was a nightmare. Glad you’re not dealing with that shit with your bum leg.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my leg,” I snapped, at least making him look slightly chastised. “And for the record, that ‘nightmare’ you keep talking about beat your personal best in his last competition. So if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do than listen to a has-been who doesn’t know when to shut up.”

I shoved past him, barely moving him an inch. My steps were heavy as I stalked down the hallway, my anger searing through me. I knew my face betrayed my emotions, and the cameras would catch every detail. It was almost enough to make me turn back and hide in the bathroom.

But I had someone counting on me, and he was far more important than protecting my pride.

Jimin was standing with the group when I returned, three minutes to spare. He clocked something was off right away, and so did Summer.

“What crawled up your ass?” she asked.

“Some dumb bitch,” I huffed, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself. “I bumped into an asshole on my way out of the bathroom.”

“Are you okay?” Nicole asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Do we need to tell security?”

I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. I think I gave him enough of an earful to keep him the hell away from me.”

I didn’t want to reveal who had bothered me. It would only cause unnecessary drama and upset Jimin. We had an event to focus on. 

“Let's go over the plan one more time.” 

Taking over as head coach, I directed the team. The others were happy to hand over the reins, and the boys took direction well. We reviewed the order of events, their best times, and their confidence levels. After a pep talk and some words of encouragement, it was time for the boys to swim.

Jimin was third in our group of four, and I watched him intensely. How well he performed today would set the tone for the rest of the season. He was signed up to compete in the breaststroke event at the Olympics, along with other solo swimming events. I knew just how skeptical people were about his chances. Today’s performance could reignite interest in him, which was crucial for securing sponsors.

Jimin took his place on the block, laser-focused and ready to dive in as soon as Trey tagged him. Trey was the fastest in the pool today, giving Jimin a head start before the others were halfway back across.

I held my breath. Jimin was a bullet in the water. Not as perfect as I wanted, but much improved. He reached the touchpad and pushed himself back across the pool. Team 3 was catching up, but Jimin would finish first. I watched as he gave one final push and tagged in D’Angelo.

Take that, you old bastard, I sneered internally. My anger surprised me; Hamilton deserved my contempt. No one gets to talk about Jimin like that. Ever.

D’Angelo butterflied us to victory. Our team hugged each other as the announcer declared our win to the cheering crowd. The bleachers were filled, the audience screaming their praise at the four men. They basked in the glory. All I could do was stare at my pretty boy’s smile in awe.

I really did love him.

Even if I didn’t tell him right now, I knew in my heart that I did. I went up against Matthew fucking Hamilton for him, came to this charity function, and kept it together. Now, I was going to talk to some news reporters, all because I loved him.

I love him, I love him, I love him…

“You’re a damn good coach, Y/N.”

I turned to smile at Summer. She was beautiful, her brown eyes warm and kind. She reminded me of Giselle, but her features were sharper, her nose broader. I remembered us cutting up after placing in nationals right after we turned 21. I hadn’t thought about her in so long I forgot what it was like to miss her.

“So are you. D’Angelo is one of the best I’ve seen for his age group. How old is he?”

“Sixteen. Turning seventeen next month. Hope he’ll be Olympics-ready next time, but I don’t know if he’ll stick with it.”

“He will. You can see it in his eyes.”

D’Angelo was talking to Jimin, the high schooler bubbly and starry-eyed. He had a slight stutter and kept apologizing about his tics. D’Angelo had Tourette’s and clicked his tongue and winked a lot. He attached himself to Jimin once they got comfortable, and my boyfriend told me he had followed the younger swimmer on social media.

“Where does he go to school?”

“Pioneer High,” she replied. “His family moved to Ann Arbor a few weeks ago. He was going to school out here in Allendale.”

What a small world.

“Does he need a new coach?” I asked. “I’m out in Saline. It’s only twenty minutes away from Ann Arbor.”

Summer seemed excited about the prospect of us working together. She said this was their last meet as coach and student, and she was sad to see him go since he was the only person serious about swimming professionally on their team. I gave her my contact information and asked her to pass it on to D’Angelo’s parents. I saw potential in him and wanted to keep that fire in his eyes.

“He’s going to be so excited.”

“Well, he’ll have to wait until after the Olympics,” I reminded her. “I’m up to my neck in work right now.”

“What about weekends?” she countered.

“Maybe Saturday,” I sighed. “We’ll see. I’m not sure if I want to commit to it right now. I’ll be in hell until July. Between Nationals and all the other competitions Hamilton signed him up for, we’re not getting any breaks.”

Summer hummed, eyeing the reporters. They had gone to speak with the boys, all of whom seemed eager to share their happiness about the win. St. Jude’s would be getting a hundred thousand dollars from today’s event. Reaching into my pocket, I asked Summer if she had recorded the race.

“Nicole did,” she told me. “She sent it to the group chat already.”

“Excellent,” I grinned. “Jimin’s mom wanted to see him swim. She was so disappointed she couldn’t come.”

I felt Summer watching me as I unlocked my phone. Watching the video, I was pleased at how well-shot it was. You could see all of our boys on full display. I thanked Nicole for the video and saved it. Pulling up Neyeon’s number, I sent the video and promised her to have Jimin call her as soon as he was available.

“You two together?”

I looked at Summer, keeping my face neutral.

“Sorry if I’m overstepping,” she laughed. “It’s just…you two seem very close.”

I raised an eyebrow. Lying wasn’t something I did often, and this felt wrong but necessary. I didn’t want anyone to know about us. It took one person saying the wrong thing, and we’d be up shit’s creek come July. Our relationship was frowned upon by SafeSport and would be considered imbalanced.

“We’re not.”

Summer did not look convinced.

“I’m not going to tell anyone, Y/N. You’re just a trainer while he’s still in Michigan. A stand-in until Bunch finds him a new coach. We all know that, and you’re not breaking the code of conduct.”

“I’m not a temp,” I sighed. “We haven’t disclosed anything yet. I wanted to wait until after the Olympics, but I’m afraid I’ll have to step down before that happens.”

Summer placed a hand on my shoulder. “He’ll be in Colorado in April, right? Tell Bunch your job as coach is over and you won’t have anything to worry about.”

“You don’t get it,” I shook my head. “Ozzie wants me to be his permanent coach. That’s been the expectation this entire time, and I know Jimin would want the same.”

“Well, he can’t have his cake and eat it too,” she said, glancing at the reporters. “Get him to understand the position you’d be in. I’m sure if you told him your romantic relationship would make you look bad, then he’d be more willing to get help elsewhere.”

“He wants to finish the season with me by his side. It was the only compromise he was willing to listen to.”

“Put your foot down. Find other options. Christmas is around the corner. Spring won’t be too long after that. You should step down before Oswald finds out. Don’t screw yourself over, babe. You’ve worked too hard for this to let some kid take it away from you.”

I snorted, “He’s not doing anything wrong.”

“No,” she argued. “He’s being selfish. You both are.”

I knew she was right. I should have waited until I was no longer attached to him in this way before starting anything. I knew it from the beginning, and I still allowed myself to be in this position. Summer had a point. Finding him a permanent coach before we went to Colorado in April was a good idea. If I was just a trainer, then nothing would be inappropriate, and I could still help him out in the gym.

“Are you looking for anything?” I joked.

Summer laughed. “Girl, I’d love to work with that boy, but I don’t think we’d line up this year. I have kids now. I can email you a few recommendations.”

“Thanks, Summer. I don’t know how big of a deal it’s going to be, but I’ll talk to Bunch about it.”

“Anytime, Otter. I’m just speaking from my experiences. He might tell you something different. Don’t spiral over it. I know you.”

I always hated that stupid nickname, but I had to put on a smile. Cameras were coming our way, and I needed to be sure I was on my best behavior. For Jimin’s sake.

The interview went better than I expected. I didn’t have to talk about myself a single time, and it didn’t look like any of the reporters here knew who I was. It wasn’t pleasant, but I couldn’t complain. We spoke for five minutes before they moved on to the others. Taking that as my cue, I went to collect my athlete.

We had a lot to talk about tonight.

Jimin smiled when I approached. The other three boys greeted me just as eagerly, and I was more than happy to hand out my praises. D’Angelo and Trey went to mingle with the losing teams. Paul went to find Nicole, leaving Jimin and me alone.

“You look upset,” he said, handing his duffle bag over when I held out my hand. “Something the matter?”

“No,” I shook my head and smiled. “Nothing’s wrong. I just need to talk to you later.”

“Is it bad?”

“Not bad,” I reassured him. “Something private. I don’t want to do it here.”

“Okay, Coach.”

That night, as I lay in bed, I thumbed through the email Summer had sent me earlier. Jimin had been invited out with the other boys, and I had pushed him to go. I told him I had paperwork and reports to handle, that he should enjoy his night off. He seemed reluctant but left anyway.

The truth was, I wasn't ready to have this conversation with him. Every time I tried to bring up our relationship, he brushed it off, saying he was fine with waiting until after the Olympics. But I knew better. It would look worse if we waited until he won a medal to disclose everything. I was his coach, temporary or otherwise, and it was my responsibility to make sure boundaries weren't crossed.

I should have never come here. Not when I knew exactly how I felt about him before I did. I was such an idiot.

Finally, ready to face the music, I called Ozzie. It was still early in Colorado, but I knew he'd answer. I never called him unless it was important. Maybe, if I was lucky, Whitney would pick up, and I could chat with her first. She always had a way of helping me get my head straight before unleashing my worries on Ozzie.

"Hello?" No such luck tonight.

"Hey, Oz," I greeted, the worry in my voice making me want to hang up. "How are you?"

"Fine. What's wrong, Otter?"

I sighed, "I fucked up."

"Tell me about it."

So I did. I spent half an hour unloading everything that had happened since I moved to Michigan. How attracted I was to Jimin, but how I pushed those feelings aside to coach him. The months of slowly building longing. Sushi night in Detroit. The date when I came back from visiting home. The kiss on his couch. The brief sexual encounter this morning (though I left out most of those details). I told him everything.

To his credit, Oswald just listened. He only spoke every so often to clarify something or ask about a small detail I left out. As my story came to a close, the pit in my stomach felt like someone was sitting on me. My hands began to tremble.

"I'm so sorry, Ozzie," I cried. "You trusted me, and I fucked it all up."

"You didn't do anything wrong," he finally said, his voice soft and gentle. "Summer was being dramatic earlier. What you two do is your business as long as you disclose it."

"But-"

"Katinka Hosszú and Shane Tusup are married. Coach-athlete relationship. They've disclosed it, and they're fine. You and Park are doing the same thing. I'll let everyone else know, and you'll be fine once the Olympics come around."

"I just don't want to be a bad person, Oz."

"You're not," he soothed. "You did the right thing by telling me. I'm happy for you, Y/N. You've been alone for too long, and that kid needs someone like you in his corner. He's been through a lot."

Wiping my face, his words brought back my encounter with Hamilton. The words he used to describe Jimin were so far from reality, but I still couldn't find it in me to not believe him. Matthew was a jerk, a stupid one at that, but he was sincere in his annoyance.

"I ran into Hamilton today. He said some shitty things about Jimin. Called him a drunk."

Ozzie cursed under his breath.

My heart rate sped up. So it was true? But that didn't make sense. Jimin didn't even drink. I had never heard of a drunk who didn't drink. Unless he was in recovery.

I thought about my dad. He'd been sober for five years now. It was one of the only compliments I could give his new wife. She kept him on the straight and narrow. Imagining Jimin in my childhood basement, too drunk to stand up, crying for a wife that wasn't coming back felt wrong. I could never put him in that position. That wasn't him at all.

"That's something you should talk to him about."

"But it's true?"

"To an extent," Ozzie admitted. "I wouldn't call him a drunk, but the kid can hold his liquor. He was worse a few years ago, but he's been great for a long time. Hamilton is just exaggerating."

But I had a gut feeling he wasn't.

"Thanks for talking to me, Oz."

"Anytime, Y/N," he chuckled. "And delete that damn email. He doesn't need a new coach. You're working magic on him."

"Night."

"Night."

Tossing my phone on the bed, I slammed my laptop shut and put it on the nightstand. Today had been a disaster. We came here and won, did exactly as well as I had hoped, but it felt hollow. I didn't know who to believe. Summer's concerns were valid from an academic coach's perspective, and I understood her worries. It was strange to me as well. Ozzie was a far more reliable source, but it felt too easy. Things were never that simple for me, and it was difficult to calm down enough to believe what he said.

Curling into a ball, I stared at the front door. He'd be back soon, and I'd have to explain my strange mood. I knew he'd be upset with me for sending him away after saying we needed to talk, but I hoped he'd forgive me once I explained why I needed space to think. So many decisions needed to be made, and I knew I would only hurt him if I tried to do anything before screwing my head back on.

For now, I decided to go by Ozzie's advice. If any issues came up, we'd deal with them together. As a team. Jimin would prefer it that way, and I could take some of the pressure off my shoulders.

A beep. A wiggle. Another beep. The door opened.

"Stupid keycard doesn't work right," Jimin grumbled to himself, slipping out of his shoes. "I knew there was a reason it was so cheap."

I slowly sat up and watched him. His hair was in his eyes, and his skin looked a little pale, but he seemed to be in a good mood. I couldn't smell alcohol either.

I wanted to punch myself in the face.

I wasn't ready for that conversation yet, but I knew avoiding it would only make things worse. If I let my mind wander, it would spin the worst story ever told, and I'd constantly be checking to make sure he wasn't drunk.

Jimin didn't drink, I told myself. Jimin's been doing great.

He went straight to the bathroom, giving me a few minutes to collect myself. I needed to be honest but cautious. If I told him word-for-word what Hamilton had said, it would only make him feel bad. Starting with the good news first might help. Maybe learning that we didn't have to hide our relationship status going forward would ease the sting of his old coach's words.

I would have to approach this delicately. The toilet flushed. The water ran. The bathroom door opened. It was showtime.

"Had fun?" I asked him, knees pressed against my chest.

He smiled at me, "They're all really nice. Wish you were there."

"Next time," I promised. "Want to put the TV on?"

Jimin shrugged, "Sure. Food Network?"

"Chopped might be on."

It was actually Iron Chef, but we both liked that show too, so we kept it on. I tried not to stare at Jimin as he got undressed. He only wore a shirt and boxers to sleep, so it was very distracting. I needed to be focused and ready for anything.

Climbing into bed, he wrapped an arm around my waist and buried his face into my side. I was still sitting up, cradling my legs, but Jimin's whining finally got me to relax. Sliding down, I wrapped my arms around his neck and let him throw the blanket over me.

This was my happy place.

"I missed you," he mumbled, fingers playing with my hair.

"I missed you too," I told him. "Sorry I've been weird."

"What's wrong, angel?"

I felt my eyes welling up. "Good or bad?"

"Good."

I took a deep breath.

"I told Coach Bunch about our relationship. He said we'll be fine, and he's going to put in a disclosure form with the board for us. We'll probably get an email to sign a few documents in a couple of days."

He kissed my forehead, a large, toothy grin overtaking his entire face. I couldn't help but smile back. I knew it would make him happy. Gripping my hair, he yanked my head forward for a kiss. He couldn't stop smiling even as our lips collided. His joy eased some of my anxiety about the conversation that was to come.

"I'm so happy right now," he giggled, kissing me again. "I can finally show you off like the pretty girl you are."

Relenting, I tightened my grip around him. I needed to focus on the good. Jimin wasn't going to get mad at me for being honest, and I had to hope Hamilton being a jerk wouldn't burst our perfectly formed bubble.

"I ran into Coach Hamilton today."

Jimin's smile dropped in sync with my heart.

"He said some things," I averted my gaze. "It upset me. That was my issue when I came back from the bathroom."

"What did he say?"

I shook my head, "It doesn't matter. He doesn't matter."

Jimin cupped my cheek.

"You were upset before you went. Why?"

I sighed, burying my face in his neck. It was easier to talk to him when I didn't feel his eyes on me. It never ended. The anxiety. The shame. The guilt.

"I just felt so bad about the bathroom thing. You told me to drop it, but it's still there. I don't want to make you feel pressured. I want you to feel loved when I touch you. I just want to make you feel good, Jimin."

"You do," he soothed, kissing my head. "You make me feel amazing. There's nothing wrong with the things we do. We're going to be okay."

I couldn't help but cry. I loved him so much. I could never, ever, let him go. He was everything I ever wanted. Perfect.

"And then, here comes this goddamn asshole," I cried, the words spilling out of me like a busted dam. I was past the point of no return, the fury and frustration rolling off me in waves. Any semblance of calm had fled, replaced by a raw, unfiltered torrent of emotion. 

"He kept yammering about my 'bum leg,' saying you were no good, calling you a drunk. I don't know what came over me, but I just snapped. I never lose it like that, but I did. And now, I feel like I've ruined everything—your meet, your moment. And to top it all off, I went behind your back and talked to Ozzie—"

"Stop." Jimin's hands were on my face, his grip firm but gentle, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Stop it. Please, don't hide from me. You didn't ruin anything, angel. I promise. I'm so happy we won, and you talking to Bunch is the best gift anyone’s ever given me."

I shook my head, unable to accept his words. The day had spiraled into a nightmare, and I felt responsible for every second of it. I couldn't celebrate with him, couldn't touch him, couldn't even look at him. I was a failure. I was a mistake. This whole thing was a mistake. I was going to ruin his career. His life. His—

"One," he took a deep breath. "Two," then another. "Three," he kissed my forehead. "Come on, angel girl. Breathe with me."

I blinked, following his lead. One deep breath in. One big exhale out. One breath in. One breath out. One, two, three, four; five. Ten, nine, eight, seven; six. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. 

"There you go," Jimin mumbled. "Just calm down. I'm not mad. I promise you I'm not mad."

I nodded, my breath catching up with me. With my head cleared, the weight of my earlier words hit me like a sledgehammer. So much for being gentle and kind. I wanted to punch myself in the face. God, I was a horrible girlfriend.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "That was unnecessary. And selfish. And wrong. I promised myself I'd stay calm, and then I just freaked out on you."

Sitting up, I wiped my face roughly, angry at my tears. I was too old to act like this when I was upset. I needed to learn how to stay composed and communicate. No one wants to deal with a crybaby who explodes all the time.

"It's okay to be upset," he replied. "That's a lot to handle alone, and you did so well today. I want you to know you can have these moments with me. It's what I'm here for."

"But you shouldn’t have to."

"I want to," he said, grabbing my face again. I hadn’t realized I had looked away. "I want to because I love you."

Automatically, I laughed. My disbelief was so great I was positive Ashton Kutcher would jump out of the bathroom and tell me I was getting Punk’d. But this wasn’t 2003. It was 2024, and no one had thought about that blemish on MTV’s record in over a decade. This was just me and Jimin in our hotel room, and he was telling me something profound, and all I could do was laugh.

He cracked a smile. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," I shook my head, almost giddy with joy. "Nothing. I don’t know why I can’t stop laughing."

His smile widened. Sitting up, he leaned in and kissed my cheek. I squeaked, giggled, and threw myself at him.

My mood swings had to be exhausting. I knew I had to be as well.

But he loved me. Jimin loved me. Even if I was the most exhausting girlfriend, he loved me.

"I love you," he repeated, his eyes soft and glowing with unmistakable fondness. "I don’t like it when you talk about yourself like that."

"I love you, too," I whispered back like a secret. "I’m sorry."

He shook his head. "Don’t feel bad for telling me these things. You’re not ruining anything for me. I’m just happy you’re giving me the privilege to hold you when you’re down. You’re a suffer-in-silence type."

I snorted. "Woe is me."

Jimin leaned back and took me with him. Laying across his chest, I got comfortable and stared at him. He was the prettiest man I had ever seen. He needed a haircut soon. It was past his ears and too hard for him to manage. I’d let him go early next week so he could fit in a trip to the barber.

"There’s nothing wrong with your leg, by the way."

I snickered. "I told him the same thing. May or may not have called him a has-been, too."

That made Jimin laugh. The sound was like music. I loved it when he was happy. I was worried he was putting his feelings aside to make me feel better, but I had to force myself to let him come to me on his own time. Whatever Jimin wanted was what I wanted, and if he wasn’t ready to tell me about his past yet, I would accept that.

Because I loved him. And he loved me. I smiled. He loves me.

"You have questions, right?"

"About the drunk comment? Sure, but you don’t have to say anything. You can talk to me or not, and I’ll still be here."

He regarded me for a moment before nodding. "Thank you."

I simpered. "You’re welcome."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Wanting to break the tension, I made a show of stretching my arms above my head. Yawning melodramatically, I curled up against his side. Jimin’s arms wrapped around my waist as if they were always meant to be there. As it turned out, a new episode of Chopped had come on.

Jimin was very pleased with this, and we lapsed into a comfortable silence as we watched the chefs open their baskets. We had gotten lucky enough to only miss the introductions. For their appetizer basket, they got mofongo (something I had never heard of before), English peas, sparkling cider, and catfish filets. I marveled at the ingredients. I would have been utterly clueless.

"What’s mofongo made of?" I asked Jimin.

"Mashed up fried plantains," he replied calmly. "They put garlic paste and chicharron in it. You’d usually eat it with beef broth, but it can change depending on the recipe. It’s a Puerto Rican dish. I only heard about it after swimming with Luis Rivera at Nationals. It’s really good."

"It sounds good. Summer? Her family is Nigerian, and if we were lucky, her mother would bring these massive pots of food to our training sessions when we were in the U.S. Olympic swimming team back in 2012. I dream about her jollof rice. And the soups? Don't even get me started."

I watched as one chef used the mofongo to create a marinade for his catfish and raised an eyebrow. Points off for lack of creativity. Another person had taken the mofongo and turned it into a thick gravy. Both seemed like safe choices, but at least they were using it. The other chef hadn’t even touched it. They were very focused on a pot of boiling potatoes and frying the fish.

"Boiling more potatoes seems pointless," I muttered.

"Let him cook."

I snorted. "Yes, sir."

Jimin was right, of course. A few moments later, the man was mixing the potatoes and mofongo together to make a hybrid of sorts. After that, he assembled his fish pie. He used the cider to make a base gravy for the fish and peas, added in a few other veggies for more flavor, and piled on the potatoes. I did not think I would like the flavor of fish with heaps of mash on them, but it looked delicious as he plated them. Far better than the other two’s strange and avant-garde style.

It just wasn’t something I would consider an appetizer.

"That’s an entire meal," Jimin scoffed. "He’s going home."

"Get out of my head, kid."

He kissed my cheek. "Make me."

"Punk."

"You love me."

"I do."

"Say it again," he giggled.

I rolled my eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he sighed happily. "I’m so happy I can just say that now. You have no idea how hard it’s been to just... not say it."

I thought about the semi-panic attack I had in Hoseok’s car and laughed. He had no idea how much I understood where he was coming from.

"Say it as much as you want, love," I kissed the underside of his chin.

We had both been right. The judges thought the pie was too much to be an appetizer. 

The hiss of the shower jolted me awake, the sound slicing through the thick, restless silence of the early morning. I fumbled groggily for my phone. The screen lit up: 3:17 AM. The bed beside me was a cold, empty expanse, and a tight knot of worry coiled in my gut. I slipped out of bed, the chill of the floor biting at my feet, and crept toward the bathroom door.

“Chim?” I called softly, barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile night.

“Yeah?” His voice was close, too close to the door for him to be in the shower. 

“Can I come in?” 

The moment of silence that followed was heavy, like the air before a storm. Then came the soft click of the lock, and the door creaked open just enough for me to see him. As I’d feared, he was still fully clothed, slumped on the toilet with that distant, haunted look I’d hoped never to see again. It had been months since he’d looked this lost.

I slipped inside and closed the door behind me, the small space barely accommodating us. We were so close our knees touched, but I didn’t care. He needed me, and I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, my voice barely a breath.

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on some dark chasm only he could see. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, broken only by the steady drip of the showerhead. Eventually, he reached over and turned off the water. The steam billowed around us, wrapping us in a dense fog.

"Her name was Jackie," he said finally, his voice a whisper lost in the fog. "She was a friend of Annie’s. We were in college, and Annie practically forced us to go out so she could double date with Tom."

I hummed softly, encouraging him to continue. I didn’t understand why Jackie was surfacing now, but I had a sinking feeling she was the girl he’d mentioned earlier—the one who had made him feel small and worthless. Jackie. What a godawful name.

“She was one of those people who wore a mask around her friends and was someone else entirely when we were alone. I was 18, and she was pretty, so I let it slide. We had things in common, and we laughed a lot.”

He paused, drawing a shaky breath. “Her friends thought I was weird and didn’t want her with me. They’d been tight since middle school and still acted like high school mean girls. I didn’t care much for them either, but Jackie always said she didn’t care what they thought.”

My heart twisted in my chest. I had a gut-wrenching feeling where this was going, and it made me sick. My poor baby. I placed a hand on his knee in a futile attempt to comfort him.

“We’d been seeing each other for a few months, but we hadn’t done more than a few kisses and hugs. I was gearing up for my first professional championship swim meet, and she was buried in schoolwork. Double major or something, I don’t really remember.”

He took another deep breath. “Our clothes were off, and I was so nervous. She seemed okay with it. We just got dressed and watched a movie. We both knew that things weren’t going anywhere.”

“That’s normal, Jimin,” I murmured, trying to fill the void of silence. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He shook his head. “She told her friends, who told their friends, who then told everyone in my frat about what happened. Then she was too much of a coward to face me and acted like nothing had ever happened. I was humiliated, mortified. I just didn’t want to have sex anymore. The drinking started after, but that was more a side effect of being in a fraternity with undiagnosed depression.”

I was at a loss for words, so I stood up. Jimin watched me as I lowered myself onto his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him tight.

Even if it wasn’t some grotesque horror story, it was still a deep, festering wound. Trauma was trauma, regardless of its shape or size. This morning had uncovered more than either of us was willing to admit.

For Jimin, it was confronting his fears of rejection. For me, it was the struggle to finally move on from guilt and shame. Namjoon's face came to mind, and I had to make my brain stop itself from going there. He would want me to be happy. He would want me to live. I relaxed into him, hoping that we could both find a way to heal.

Jimin sucked in a few deep breaths before his arms enveloped my waist. He hiccuped once, then twice, and finally, he began to cry.

I buried my face in his hair, my own tears mingling with his. It was heart-wrenching to see him in such pain, but I felt deeply honored that he was finally allowing his walls to come down. For all my talk about suffering in silence, Jimin was far more adept at hiding his pain than I was.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “You didn’t deserve that.”

He cried harder and nodded. “I know,” he wailed.

I didn’t want to talk anymore. Holding him in my arms, this beautiful, broken boy, I wished I could keep him locked away in this bathroom forever, safe from the cruelties of the world. I didn’t care if my legs went numb from sitting or if the grip he had on my ribs was starting to hurt. Jimin cried, and I stayed in his lap, a silent promise to be there, come what may.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga @sumzysworld @chimmisbae

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[commajade]

finally watched watched my brothers and sisters in the north when it's been in my to-watch list for years and it was so touching and so beautiful.

the people interviewed were of course handpicked and have better conditions than other people because of the impact of U.S. sanctions and such, but it genuinely inspired me how hard-earned their good living conditions are. the farmers had to work really hard to re-establish agriculture after the war and now they get so much food a year they donate most of it to the state because they simply don't need it. the girl at the sewing factory loves her job and gets paid with 14 kilos of food a month on top of her wages. the water park worker is proud of his job because 20,000 of his people can come and enjoy themselves every day, and Kim Jong-un himself took part in designing it and came by at 2am during construction to make sure everything was going smoothly. his grandmother's father was a revolutionary who was executed and buried in a mass grave in seoul but in the dprk he has a memorial bust in a place of honor and his family gets a nice apartment in pyongyang for free.

imperialist propaganda always points to the kim family as a dictatorship and a cult of personality but from this docu it's so obvious that it's genuine gratitude for real work for the people, and simple korean respect. if my president came to my work and tried his best to make my working conditions better and to make my life better, i would call him a dear leader too. if my president invented machines and designed amusement parks and went to farms all over the country to improve conditions for the people, i would respect him.

the spirit of juche is in self-reliance, unity of the people, and creative adaptations to circumstances. the docu rly exemplified the ideology in things like the human and animal waste methane systems powering farmers' houses along with solar panels, how they figured out how to build tractors instead of accepting unstable foreign import relationships, and how the water park uses a geothermal heating system.

it rly made me cry at the end when the grandma and her grandson were talking about reunification. the people of the dprk live every day of their lives dreaming of reunification and working for reunification, and it's an intergenerational goal that they inherited from their parents and grandparents. the man said he was so happy to see someone from the south, and that even though reunification would have its own obstacles that we have the same blood the same language the same interests so no matter what if we have the same heart it would be okay.

and the grandma said "when reunification happens, come see me." and it's so upsetting that not even 10 years later, the state has been pushed into somewhat giving up on this hope. the dprk closed down the reunification department of the government last year and it broke my heart.

a really good pairing with the 2016 film is this 2013 interview with ambassador Thae Youngho to clarify political realities in the dprk and the ongoing U.S. hostility that has shaped the country's global image. the interviewer Carlos Martinez asks a lot of excellent questions and the interview goes into their military policy, nuclear weapons, U.S. violence and sanctions, and the dprk's historical solidarity with middle eastern countries like syria and palestine and central/south american countries like nicaragua, bolivia, and cuba.

[saja-gaza]

‼️Please don’t skip taking a look 🍉🇵🇸

Hello everyone

This is my story, and I hope it won't be so long for you.

  I am Saja, the youngest one in my family. I'm 24 year-olds, the age that supposed to be flower age, the youth age in which we take the first steps in achieving our dreams and establishing a successful business and a happy marital life.

I got engaged to a person named Muhammad, who works as an engineer in one of the local companies at Gasa Strip in Palestine. I loved him and with him I saw my future and the fulfillment of my dreams.

Muhammad and I, during our engagement, carefully chose together every corner and part of our little "paradise" , which means a lot to us and the most precious thing we have. It was like a dream house, and it took us a lot of effort, time and money to complete it in light of the difficult financial situation we face at Gaza.

I had many ambitions and dreams that I had always dreamed of.

During preparingfor my wedding, I bought many clothes, accessories, decoration masterpieces for my new house. I had not saved even a cent of my dowry and my savings, which I had collected from my special talent in designing necklaces and beads.

Like any newlyweds, we chose an unforgettable and special date for our wedding which was on 3/3/2023, to begin a life full of happy memories and big dreams we prepared in that paradise (our home).

I lived with my husband happily in our dreaming house until 7/10/2023.

Then, the most destructive,brutal and bloody war broke out at Gasa and it has not subsided until now.

It destroyed our lives, dreams, and our future.

We were displaced from our home on the first day, and until now we are in the tenth month of the war.

I always wish to retur home, my family’s home, and our land.

I am filled with nostalgia that increases every day. We did not have the chance to say goodbye to the house, nor to take our belongings, or even our pictures and memories.

During our displacement, we moved to more than one place to escape death and bombing. We saw the most horrific scenes that the human mind could not bear, including corpses and body parts, until our grieving heart became accustomed to these things, and every time our hearts became more shattered, but we couldn't changed anything.

There was nothing left to breathe life into Gaza. At first, my house was damaged and I said I would repair it and live in it if they allowed me to return to it

In the last month, I received news that my house had been completely destroyed, so that we could not revive anything from the rubble or return to it

I now live in a tent with my husband, separated by a long distance from my family’s tent and my sisters’. There is no safety here and life is very difficult. The sun is scorching, the place is not clean, and diseases spread widely in the camps. You cannot do anything about this matter...

https://gofund.me/c21fa185

Here I no longer have any hope of returning. I was very optimistic in the past and came to help others and smiled despite the suffering, but now I am walking with a great heaviness in my heart, and my home and homeland have been taken from me. What will I return to and how will I start my life again? Will I return to building a tent over the wreckage of my house and my heart is broken? No. I can imagine his image and still not accept it.

It is hard to ask for help, but it is the time take an action to seek to survive and escape from death.

My husband and I decided to leave Gaza and live in another country.

we need your help to fund us so we can travel.

please every cent you donat can help us.

[bynux]

Asking For Donations — This Will Likely Be My First & Last Time Doing This

Cshpp - $d1pl0mat

Hey all, I'm a neurodivergent transfeminine person who could use a bit of a financial boost. I've been unemployed for over a year due to autistic burnout and a lot of life circumstances piling on in a short time. Thankfully, things seem to be settling into place and good things are on the horizon, but I need a bit of a push to get there.

The Good: I currently have an apprenticeship lined up that will pay me well and get me into my desired field of software development. I only have to do a behavioral interview (which I expect to pass with flying colors) and I'll be starting training next month. This will enable me to move in with my partners and largely get my life back on track.

The Not-So-Good: That still leaves me with about a month and a half of not getting paid yet. Like I said above, I've been unemployed for just over a year, taking odd jobs and helping my partner(s) with finances as a way of keeping afloat. However, the family I'm living with has their food assistance on hold and I'm unsure when that problem will subside. This is on top of running low on gas, medical weed, and with a phone bill due in the very near future.

This request isn't quite as urgent as some of the others you might see, but if you have $10-20 to throw my way I'd be insanely appreciative. I'm seeking a total of ~$300 to be solidly set with groceries, gas, meds, my phone bill, and a little overhead for incidentals.

Thank you in advance <3

[mash4077confessions]

For your last reblog, please do Mulcahy!!! I love your answers for him. You’re almost single handedly keeping Mulcahy girlies alive!

Thank you very much 😊

Alrighty, let's do the rest of these headcanon questions for Mulcahy!

3) Who depends on them? Everyone at 4077th, in someway shape or form, even if they don't really notice it. He would be prime for an "It's A Wonderful Life" kind of episode.

Back in Philadelphia...it's a very different story. Hell, one of the main reasons why he volunteered to go to Korea, was because he wanted to be useful and no one seemed to need him in Philadelphia.

4) What they would do if they had one month to live?

At first, I think Mulcahy would be very angry. He'd randomly lash out, he'd be hitting his punching bag. Then he'd get very solemn. He'd pray (a lot more than usual), and he'd drink heavily. Then Mulcahy would come out of that, and decide that his last days were better spent on others, instead of pitying himself.

He'd donate all his money, spend extra time with his friends and Kathy. He might even reach out to his brothers that he's long since stopped speaking to.

Mulcahy would give his all till the last moment of life, and still he'd ask quietly to himself, whether or not he'd really done enough.

5) A cherished personal belonging?

Well he has several things I can think of off the top of my head. The crucifix necklace he wears all the time, that was from Kathy. She gave it to him when he decided to join the church, and so it is very valuable to him.

He also has several photographs that he made a point to bring with him to Korea (one of his parents on their wedding day, as no one else seemed interested in having it, a picture of him and Kathy as toddlers, and then the one family portrait they had done when he was still a baby).

There is also his rather healthy library he took with him as well (Plato, War and Peace, The Completed Works of Shakespeare).

6) Something they lost, but would love to have back?

his hearing

His mother. She died just before his 18th birthday. I'm still deciding what actually killed her, but it definitely was caused in part to her having had so many children (7 total). It does things to your body.

If we're just talking about a general item, he has "lost" a couple of autographs from his favorite boxers (I say lost in quotations because what really happened was a nun found his autographed boxing magazines, including one signed by Artie Levine, and she threw them away because she didn't think it was appropriate for a priest to have so many images of shirtless men laying around. She claimed it was the boxing she took issue with, but we know what she was really thinking).

7) This character’s favorite character?

Hawkeye. It kinda goes without saying. Mulcahy is often in awe of him, and he finds him humorous (although a tad obnoxious at times), and he goes to him for help because he knows Hawkeye will be there when he needs him and won't judge him for reaching out.

Mulcahy is also great friends with Potter, though the man is much older than he is, they have a surprising amount in common (side note: is it just me or when William Christopher got old, he started looking more like Harry Morgan?)

Mulcahy also has very close friendships with both Klinger and Sidney.

8) What kind of car they would drive?

I don't think Mulcahy owns a car in his civilian life. Public transportation would have still been pretty common in 1950s Philadelphia and when he was in college at Loyola, that was in Chicago. No real big need to own a car when you're in a city center. That said, if he did have a vehicle, it would be old and second-hand. It would work but it wouldn't be fancy. Probably white or sand colored.

10) How they deal with pain?

Like physical pain? Dude can take a hit. When he was a featherweight boxer (his former life before Kathy got him to become a priest) he'd have concussions, couple broken ribs, black eyes, etc. Of course he gave as good as he got, and then some. But he has a pretty high pain tolerance.

(If you want to talk about that time that Margaret hit him and he acted like he was in pain, it's because she's a woman and he can't hit a woman, so he knew he'd have no way to physically defend himself if she really decided to let him have it. She's also REALLY strong.)

11) This character’s favorite piece or pieces of clothing?

Mulcahy isn't much into fashion. If it fits and doesn't have holes or stains on it, it's good enough for him. His priestly attire is more important to him than any civilian clothes he owns. That said, he is very fond of his Loyola hoodie (aren't we all?), that "G" baseball cap that Hawkeye bought him, and he does have one really nice lavender button down dress shirt (worn only on leave in Tokyo, which he seldom gets to do).

13) What kind of parent they would be?

The best kind. He would be soooooo loving and affectionate towards his children. He would spend so much time and energy engaging with them on their level. The kids at St. Teresa's Orphanage absolutely adore him, and he adores them right back. He's not great at discipline, though. That would be his partner's job, for sure. Not that he can't lay down the law, when needed, but he's afraid he's overdoing it and sounding like his father.

14) How they did in school?

Mulcahy was always very interested in learning and had no problem keeping up with the lessons. The trouble was that sometimes he just really wanted to read Plato or Aristotle or The Odyssey...and his teachers didn't appreciate him wanting to go off and do his own thing. He definitely got hit by at least one teacher at school fairly regularly for this.

Mulcahy always wanted to learn and discuss very broad topics, and his teachers didn't want to deal with that. Which was not great for him because they'd labeled him a troublemaker, and that got him the belt from his dad. Mulcahy always got on better with the girls in his class rather than the boys.

The boys were all like his brothers and his father; they wanted to rough house and when they got older, go skirt chasing. The girls liked him because he was sweet, and kind, and dorky. They felt safe with him. The boys also beat him mercilessly, until he was 12 and learned that it was OK to defend himself.

Many a time, he had his glasses broken, and once again, his dad would go right for the belt.

I think he was always on the outs in school, even in the seminary. I'm sure he had friends but he also had a lot of people looking at him as if he were just one giant question mark. No one really knowing what to make of him, and overlooking so many wonderful aspects of his being, because of that lack of understanding.

15) What cologne or perfume they would use?

I don't know if he really uses any. If Mulcahy does ever use cologne, it's going to be something cheap and earthy. He is a very cleanly person and he has really nice kinda fruity smelling soap and shampoo. Because he's around the church incense so often, it does stick to his robes. The incense has a nice cedar sort of smell to it.The point being in all this, is that he bathes regularly (probably the most often out of anyone in the main cast) and he does smell very nice.

17) What they’d sing at karaoke?

Something upbeat and fun. Maybe from a musical?

18) Special talents they have?

As previously stated, Mulcahy has a serious green thumb when it comes to his garden. He's also got one hell of a right hook for boxing. He plays piano (how well depends entirely on who you ask). Mulcahy has a pretty solid knack for gambling as a whole, but his odds do fair a lot better when making bets specifically on people...rather than cards. He can whistle pretty well too. Carries a nice tune when he sings (still better sounding with a partner).

Sometimes his most important talent is just getting people to agree to let things go with a small smile, and a tiny "please? 😇"

Mulcahy can also read Greek...though that's mostly just so he can read poetry in its original language.

Also did you see his sand castle in GFA? Dude has some mad skills to pull that one off without a mold.

Mulcahy is a mutitalented person. I didn't even name all his talents/skills.

20) Household chore they hate the most?

This is tough, because Mulcahy loves to clean. He loves dishes, and laundry, and finds dusting rather relaxing. Of course, this is all done as an act of service for someone else's benefit; the rest of the 4077th, those he shares the rectory with back home, his mother when he was a child, etc.

My best guess would be cooking. I think he can cook a fairly decent meal, but most of the time he's only ever cooked for himself and that immediately makes him disinterested in the task. He's just doing it because he has to eat. That's it.

21) Their fondest childhood memory?

Ok, not counting the Gentleman Joe memory because we already know all about that one. I'd say it's a memory of a time with his mother for sure. A time when the house was quiet, because his older brothers and Kathy were away at school, his father was working, and there with his head nestled in his mother's lap was baby Mulcahy, listening to her as she read to him, and stroked his head. It was a good place to be.

22) How they spend their money?

While in Korea most of his money goes to St. Teresa's Orphanage and a few creature comforts for himself.

Back at home he definitely still gives a lot to charity (he has his preferred organizations within the greater Philadelphia area). Of course he has to spend money on necessities such as food, toiletries, clothing items as they fall apart, etc. He gives gifts to his loved ones from time to time as well (birthdays and Christmas in particular, but sometimes just to cheer people up).

As for money he spends on himself just because; well he gambles and you gotta have money on hand for that, he sometimes splurges and treats himself to a good quality cigar or a higher quality beer. He's got some good leather dress shoes that he keeps well polished. Oh! And on theater tickets (both plays and the movies). He also occasionally hits the local art museums and will spend hours there looking at the paintings and statues.

(And as I write this, I know suddenly really want to take him to the MET, because he'd absolutely love it.)

23) What kind of alcohol they drink?

Beer and occasionally wine. His max alcohol percentage is 5%. Anything stronger than that and he will get plastered so quickly. Most of the time, when he drinks you'll notice him sort of nursing his beer, as opposed to chugging for the finish. He actually likes the taste of beer, and usually isn't trying to get drunk.

24) What they wish they could change about themselves?

Mulcahy wishes he was a better orator, the kind that really puts the butts in the pews and has them all feeling God's words deep in their hearts. For clarification on this, he isn't a terrible speaker, but his sermons are loaded with dad Father jokes and thinly valed stories of people he knows.

In general, Mulcahy just wants to be better. To do better. He's chasing the approval of others, because he doesn't really approve of himself. Self validation isn't his thing.

25) What other people wish they could change about them?

The people who know and love Mulcahy, wish he could see himself as they see him (goes for most of the fandom as well, I think). But at the same time, his humility is part of what makes him, him, so maybe they just wish he wouldn't beat himself up so much.

People who don't like him or at least don't particularly care about him (Frank, some higher ranking members of the military, couple church officials from his home parish, etc) they would want him to be a bit more "fire and brimstone", and to have a bit more military sense. They want him to be more traditional and fundamentalist in his views. And they'd also like him to stop with the Bible puns. But they don't matter, because they don't like him anyway.

I feel like I've missed some small but still very vital details, but that's the trouble with headcanons; I could go on and on.

[all-doggirls-go-to-heaven-2]

hey y'all, I could use some help this month. My commissions have slowed down to a crawl, and I haven't found any jobs since losing my last one, the costs of moving are quickly eating through my savings and I'm afraid for my future. I've been sick in some way or another for the past two months, and the pain in my hands is excrutiating at times. Between that and my ex who I was supposed to move in together with breaking up with me, It's been a bit of a struggle. I talked to one of my first employers, a pet shop store, but they said they would only really hire new people around the christmas season, and now just isn't a good time. I'm not desperate but I'm burning the candle at both ends and I really, really don't know how to stop. If you can, think about commissioning me! I do personalized crochet plushies, and I take great joy in making perfect little friends. Here's some examples. I also do little doodle commissions for 10 dollars, if you think that's better: If you prefer just... giving me money for some reason you can do so in the link below:

Again, I'm really thankful for any kind of help I get here. Any kind of donation helps, dollars convert fivefold into BRL, so even 10 dollars can help me tremendously.

[banananutsmuthie]

I seldom talk but let's all be real here. What do pedo writers and 18+ writers have in common? The answer: They both write SMUT. They just have different targets, that's it.

In the end, what you smut writers do is SEXUAL HARASSMENT AND LIBEL. You're just using handles/nicknames here to escape CRIMINAL LIABILITY from the idols you write smut about. There's no such thing as 'righteousness' in those things, so to speak.

Welcome back, reader. I say "back" because some random person unaware of this community wouldn't just happen to stumble on Peach's blog and find the one post calling out UA writers (in an untagged post, no less). A random person unaware of this community doesn't then proceed to find one of the least active 18+ writers (19+ if you consider my personal rules), one who hasn't posted/reblogged anything in the last 10 days and hasn't written a fic in the last 5 months. A random person unaware of this community doesn't then just send an ask to said writer chiding them about being self-righteous while calling us the same kind of bad as UA writers, despite the fact I've not mentioned anything about being righteous or openly called out UA writers (but don't get confused, I am strongly against them).

So welcome back, reader.

Here's the thing: your opinion isn't wrong and your concerns are valid. You are more than welcome to freely think what you want and call me out on it. That's the beauty of free speech we're lucky to have. There are other people in the world who aren't as lucky, and my hope is that you're as passionate about this as you are with real world issues. Right now, people are starving. There's genocide. Slavery. Human trafficking and sexual exploitation are still a thing. All of these issues are worth getting angry about.

Based on this ask you sent sins, I see fighting child sexual exploitation is an issue you care about. So, I am donating $100 USD to a non profit called Coalition Against Trafficking in Women, an international organisation working hard to end the trafficking and sexual exploitation of women and girls.

So that brings me to a proposition I have for you: we can sit here while I listen to your grievances about this community or we can work together and actually make a difference in the world. Pick a charity. Any charity fighting any issue you care about. Any donation you make to that cause, I will gladly match up to $500 USD. My only stipulation is you send a screenshot of the receipt and send it over in an ask— not as anon, not with some burner account made 3 hours ago, but with your actual account. You talk about hiding behind handles and nicknames; my real first name has been in my pinned post since I started. I think it's only fair we get to know who you are.

The offer is valid for the next 72 hours. Any further asks sent anonymously will be ignored. Any attempt at defending p-dophelia will earn a block. This will be the first and only time I will be addressing this. I strongly urge you to think about this: that's $1,100 total in donations we can contribute. I look forward to your response.

CJ

[roo-bastmoon]

"so in that kumbaya post u just openly admit ur a fat ugly single abused people pleasing jkker? not suprised. u all r. id kms if i were u."

Hmm.

Okay.

Quite a bit to unpack, there.

To answer your question: Yes, I'm a bit overweight right now--it's part the hormone blockers for the cancer and part my own emotional eating the last few months because, ya know, it's a bit stressful battling cancer. I plan to get back into working out after Yoongi's concert, though! And I'm not hideous, but I'm definitely not gorgeous. You're right, I'm single, have been for years, by choice. I do tend to people please a LOT (working on boundaries with a really sassy wonderful cognitive behavioral therapist--10/10, highly recommend CBT!). And I absolutely love and adore Jikook, for sure, as well as all of BTS.

So... guilty as charged.

But no, my "flaws" aren't a reason to DIE. I still have value, dear throw-away-account-in-my-inbox.

Despite my many shortcomings, I still have purpose. I still get pleasure. I can still do amazing things in the world and create some meaning in this life. All people are works in progress. Me, too. Who told you you had to always be exceptional to ever be worthy?

I'm not perfect. But I can try to be good.

In case you need a reminder, here's what "good" looks like:

I hope you heal from whatever wounds others gave you to make you calloused and aggressive toward total strangers.

I hope when you read this that you unclench your jaw and relax your shoulders, because you are safe and sheltered and you know there's no immediate threat.

I hope you can afford a nourishing meal and a long hot shower with amazing-smelling soap to restore some of your energy, which must be flagging, since you're spending it on Asks like this.

I hope you get a great night's sleep in a comfy bed, and wake up feeling refreshed and ready to face whatever challenges are a part of your days. Because I'm certain you have challenges just like everyone else.

I hope you have someone you trust, who you can talk to, who will listen to every word intently, and try to empathize and understand you and give you good counsel.

I hope at the end of your day, when all the work and chores are done, you get to read a really engrossing story, or listen to a thought-provoking podcast, or check out some amazing music that makes you feel alive and excited to be so.

I hope you remember yourself--your true self--the kind of person who can be kind.

Because the universe returns your energy back to you. I promise you, eventually, it does.

So here's some kindness from a random overweight absolutely flawed single Jikook fan on Tumblr, who genuinely wants you to be healthy and whole as soon as possible. We all will be better off when you start to heal.

Now, to get us both back into a place of calm and gratitude, you inspired me to make a donation to NAMI. If you ever need mental health help (and who doesn't?) they have some great free resources that you can check out HERE. Please never seriously consider killing yourself, or even joking about it, for any reason. Every day, every moment, is a new chance to start from scratch and make your life into something you prefer.

And if you're not open to talking to a therapist right now, there's a free app called Insight Timer with tons of great meditations, calming exercises, insightful podcasts, and mood-resetting music.

So, this is as much of my time and energy as I can give to you. I wouldn't have even answered you, except the K-pop community just suffered a loss from suicide this week and I felt it important to address what you said. But now I've got some streaming and voting to do in between my real-life responsibilities. So this is the last we will interact under your sock puppet account. But I hope you see this post, and I hope you know I really mean it. I really mean that you deserve to heal from this toxic anger you're taking out on others. I know you can be better.

"Who says a dream must be something grand?

Just become anybody.

We deserve a life.

Whatever, big or small, you are you after all."

--Paradise, Love Yourself: Tear, BTS

For everyone else, if I keep getting Asks from sock puppets like this, I'll turn off the option to message me unless we follow each other. I already turned off anons ages ago because of these types of messages. I will limit access to me, not as a punishment, but just because it's important to protect my (and my friends') energy against negativity. I am here for BTS, not drama.

This fandom needs to work harder to reflect BTS' values, or else what are we all doing here?? You don't have to agree with anyone about anything, but you do have to at least be civil.

If you're looking for a fight, you won't get it from me. My tongue is ruled by the law of kindness.

With sincerest respect,

Roo

P.S. Jimin and Yoongi are close to record-breaking milestones. Please don't waste any time or energy on this sort of thing--keep streaming!

[rhymey-workshop]

Feel free to skip. TW: I'm joining the military.

Growing up is really hard, and I don't think we realize that until we're on the verge of a big change, standing on the border between two parts of your life, balancing on a precipice before you take the swan dive known to many as change.

I'm packing my things. My dad finally brought home boxes and storage tubs and I'm finally packing my things, and that makes the passage of time so much more real.

I'm packing my things. My mom opened the door to tell me to watch my sleeping brother, and said nothing about the fact my room is a mess, or that I was just staring blankly at the cardboard box I just taped the bottom of. That box is ready for my craft books and paint stuff, my origami paper, my reading stand, my books on how to make stuff like children's books and animation. She made no mention of it all, just made that same pinched expression she has for weeks and then schooled her expression into something more neutral as she nodded towards the bedroom where my brother is and after a moment I got up and stumbled in, sitting at the foot of the bed to type out some kind of vent on Tumblr.

I'm packing my things, and I'm stuck between wanting to cry and finding myself unable to cry. I'm leaving home. I've been dreaming of getting out of here off and on since I was 13. At times I had a countdown of years, months, weeks, days that I had to stay, that I had to wait for the day I could finally leave. It made being angry or sad or any other complicated emotion easier. It made hardship easier to cope with. It made it easier to get through the hard times because I knew I could leave and nothing could stop me.

I'm packing my things, slowly, piece by piece, and I'm starting to understand the weight of what my dad said, when he said I was the first person on either side of my family in generations to not run away from home before turning 18. My mom left home at 17, my dad spent more days out of the house than in it as a teenager and left the god damn country. My bio paternal family has these issues too. My maternal family is full of people that ran off, that stayed away from home and didn't look back. My mom only speaks to one sister, and can't speak to her brother as long as their mother is alive. I didn't leave. I finished high school, I got my diploma, I took my time and I didn't leave before I was a legal adult.

I'm packing my things to leave home, and it's hard. It's scary. I've never been away from home for very long, and here I am, getting ready to do something more than just "Move out".

I'm packing my things, putting my life into boxes, sorting what's going to stay, waiting for me to return, what's getting tossed, what's going to get donated or given away. I keep finding things and remembering shit related to them. I keep finding things and remembering who gave them to me. I keep finding things and remembering which parent smiled when I got it.

I'm packing my things, and in a way I'm also processing a kind of grief I didn't know existed.

I'm leaving home for something I thought through for 8 months, and I'm coming up on the one year anniversary since I made my decision. It's been just under two since I signed the dotted line, swore in, and came home to congratulations and a sureness that I'm doing the right thing for me.

In 5 days, I'm going to my last meeting. Getting a send off from a group of people doing the same thing. A couple of them doing the EXACT same thing.

In 9 days, I'll spend the last full 24 hours I've got with my family, eating a fruit tart and playing putt putt. I'll say good night and that'll be the last time I see them for months at the very least.

In 10 days, I'm hiding my key on the porch and walking out the front door while everyone is asleep. They'll wake up and I'll be hundreds of miles away from them. In 10 days, I'm hopping in a big unmarked government van (and this will never not be funny to me) with like 5 other people and we're all doing the same thing. We're going somewhere and we have no idea what is really waiting for us.

In 11 days, I'm not in civilian limbo anymore. As it stands I am subject to the UCMJ but I'm not a sailor yet. In 11 days, I'm a recruit, and that's fucking dizzying to think about.

I'm getting ready to start a new part of my life and it's going to be exciting and new and I'll make friends and I'll go a couple places and I'll have stories to tell my brother and family. I think I'll be better, when all is said and done.

But right now, I'm packing my things into boxes and tubs, and right now, I want to cry.

[horce-divorce]

I'm doing my best to individually reblog each and every one of the posts that folks have contacted me about recently. I can't donate myself since I am currently homeless, but I do have plenty of followers and I can share the views!

that said, I had about 50 this week, and trying to schedule/queue 5-10 posts per day is a lot of work that I may not be doing the best job of due to my own health!

so just in case i drop the ball and miss anyone, here is a compiled list. all of these accounts contacted me personally and asked me to share, they are all vetted & easily verifiable as such, or otherwise threw up green flags (ie they have original images associated with them).

inb4: yes these are all vetted, and its not hard to check.

i want to specially highlight @rehamjawad33 who has been trying to evacuate a family of 7 for over nine months and haven't even yet reached 40% of their goal.

@ahmed79ss is fundraising to reunite a separated family and has been for over six months. the children are still in Gaza alone and need medical attention as well.

@ranin3344 (Gofundme), @bilalassadabedrou (Gofundme), @kareemalnakhala (Gofundme) and @nevinalser (Gofundme) all have vetted fundraisers over 6 months old that have reached less than 50% of their goal so far.

Here are a handful of other evacuation funds, created within the last 4-5 months, that are also very low on funds: @savepalestineinfamily19 (Gofundme) - €7,000 / €50,000 @kareeem-sd (Gofundme) - €2,220 / €50,000 @nurserehamo (Gofundme) - $4,452 / $40,000 @salahaldinhorsblog (Gofundme) - €6,140 / €40,000 @abed-rashad13 (Gofundme) - $8,058 / $50,000 @yara-family (Gofundme) - €1,537 / €20,000 @yosefresh (Gofundme) - €2,277 / €50,000

@ranoshfamily (Gofundme) gets mentioned as well - this is only 1 of maybe 2 or 3 fundraisers I had asks for that weren't yet vetted by another Palestinian, but they have original images associated with the campaign and lots of videos, and otherwise seem like a real poster and dont give me any scammer red flags. like, im just a guy, but that's more than enough for me. imagine having to market yourself while living in a tent and being bombed, and then having people online call you fake because you don't already know somebody on tumblr or whatever, even after posting graphic accounts of what's happening to you. anyway, €390 of €70,000

I will be adding to this as time goes on (just trying to split up the work for myself) in addition to reblogging the individual posts.

if you have the time, please at least queue some of these to reblog! you'd be surprised how much of a difference a few extra views can make when you have to fundraise to stay alive, I know it all too well myself!

[sillybruja]

keep reading if you wanna know about the craziest liar and well known spn roleplayer I've met on tumblr

I will never forget being on tumblr from 2011 - 2015 and being in the supernatural role playing community. It was both one of the best, and worst experiences of my entire life. I role played as Dean Winchester (and actually my page is still up, and I might start up again) and had a fairly large following.

during 2011, the SPN rp community just started growing so I, among a few of my mun friends, were like the "It girls and guys". It's so insane to think about it now, 10+ years later. There were people out there who did not roleplay that would follow me, and reblog my threads just because they appreciated by writing ^.^ it was so sweet. Back to my memory lol.

Anyways, I made friends with a rper on here who ran a Castiel account. We very obviously shipped Dean & Cas, and so did a lot of people. People even shipped us xD we had a ship name and everything. This person became my best friend in real time.

I really really thought I knew this person. He told me everything, every part of his life, every heart break from some dumb guy, every accident he's ever made, etc. I saw him as not only a best friend but a brother.

around 2013, my life took a turn -- things got more serious for me, and I fell off from roleplaying for a bit, and we lost contact. I remember he just eventually stopped responding to my messages. This wasn't okay for me because before he ghosted me, he told me he was really sick. I was always worried that the last text I sent him was the last I'd ever hear from him.

Eventually he did respond to me, and I remember him saying, "I'm fine, I might just be gone for a while. It's not your fault" and that was that. Mind you, I was 10+ years younger, and I really felt devastated.

Several months later, I logged back onto my roleplaying account. I remember being spammed with asks and messages about him. One of our mutuals sent me a message saying he had passed away a month prior. She showed me the go fund me that was started for him to cover his funeral expenses. My heart was shattered.

The next year was spent of thinking about him almost every day. I felt so sorry that things ended the way they did, and that he was gone. I honestly felt grief that entire year.

In 2015, I get this intuitive 'nudge' to check my tumblr again. This time when I log in, I see appreciation posts about him, and all of those feelings come back. I remember trying to get back into rping in honor of him, and I remember coming across an account that seemed awfully familiar.

This was another castiel account, almost identical in text, aesthetic, vocabulary, even same psds. I just knew it was him. I can't tell you how, I just did. I remember thinking I was crazy and that this was grief... but, unfortunately, I was right.

Eventually, I gathered the nerve to reach out to this account. I cannot remember the name they gave me. But I talked to them, and I sort of played detective lol.

I deeply knew it was him and felt like it was so wrong that he lied about everything, had everyone upset, and took HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS from people who donated for his funeral.

One day, I was just tired of being nice. I approached him about it all. Of course he denied it. I badgered him about it though, and I even told him that what he is doing is illegal, and that he owes it to people who are mourning a very much alive person.

I didn't stop until he came forward.

He said, "I'm sorry, I had to do this to be with my boyfriend" and my jaw was on the freaking floor.

I told him to come forward, or I will have to do something about this.

Of course, he did not. Instead, he deleted his account. I tried to make a claim against him, but it was never looked into.

I will never forget that.

and if he's still out there, I hope he actually understands the weight of his actions. and I hope justice gets served.

[ingek73]

Guns and lies

US elections 2024

How Tim Walz went from NRA favorite to ‘straight Fs’ on gun rights

In Congress, Walz was endorsed by gun rights advocates. But after the Parkland shooting, he changed his tone

Cecilia Nowell

Fri 9 Aug 2024 14.00 BST

Supported by

Cal Wellness for Guns

At his first rally as Kamala Harris’s running mate Tuesday, Minnesota’s governor, Tim Walz, invoked an issue at the forefront of many Americans’ minds: the right “for our children to be free to go to school without worrying they’ll be shot dead in their classrooms”.

But Walz wasn’t always a fierce advocate against gun violence. The evolution of the vice-presidential candidate, who once boasted an A rating from the NRA, shows the growing relevance of gen Z voters, who’ve grown up amid a surge in mass shootings in the US and are enthusiastically backing Harris.

“Gun violence is the number one killer of our generation, meaning we can’t afford anything less than leaders who will prioritize basic gun safety,” Timberlyn Mazeikis, a gun violence survivor and volunteer leader with Students Demand Action from Minnesota, said in a joint statement issued by Everytown for Gun Safety, Moms Demand Action and Students Demand Action supporting Walz yesterday.

Kamala Harris And Running Mate Tim Walz Make First Appearance Together In Philadelphia<br>PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA - AUGUST 6: Democratic presidential candidate, U.S. Vice President Kamala Harris and Democratic vice presidential candidate Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz appear on stage together during a campaign event at Girard College on August 6, 2024 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Harris ended weeks of speculation about who her running mate would be, selecting the 60-year-old midwestern governor over other candidates. (Photo by Andrew Harnik/Getty Images)

The Tim Walz cheat sheet: 10 things to know about Harris’s VP pick

Read more

Elected to the US House of Representatives in 2007, Walz was long beloved by gun rights advocates. The National Rifle Association endorsed and donated to his campaigns, giving him an A rating. In 2016 Guns & Ammo magazine included him on its list of top 20 politicians for gun owners.

That wasn’t terribly surprising. Walz was representing a rural red Minnesota district and had grown up at a time and place where guns were popular for hunting – not mass shootings.

“I grew up in a small town, [so] I’d put my shotgun in my car, or at school or in the football locker, to go pheasant hunting afterwards,” he told Pod Save America last month. “But we weren’t getting shot in school.”

That all changed after the 2018 shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas high school in Parkland, Florida, he has said.

In a 2018 video March for Our Lives co-founder and Parkland survivor David Hogg reshared on X last month, Walz recounts his then teenage daughter Hope approaching him in the days after the shooting: “Dad, you’re the only person I know who’s in elected office, you need to stop what’s happening with this.”

“For me, it was both a reckoning and an embarrassment,” he told Pod Save America, recalling that the children killed at Sandy Hook elementary school would have been his son’s age.

Two weeks later, while campaigning for governor, Walz authored an op-ed in the Minneapolis Star-Tribune, where he called the NRA “the biggest single obstacle to passing the most basic measures to prevent gun violence in America”. He went on to say that he’d donated the $18,000 the organization had donated to his past campaigns and wouldn’t accept NRA contributions in the future. He noted that he was currently co-sponsoring a “bump stocks” ban and came out in support of an assault weapons ban.

As Minnesota governor, Walz has signed wide-ranging gun safety measures into law, most notably a 2023 law including universal background checks and a “red flag law” (which allows state officials to temporarily seize the firearms of someone a court has ruled may be dangerous to themselves or others).

This year, Walz called for Minnesota lawmakers to go even further, asking them to support measures that would require safe firearm storage, better reporting of lost and stolen guns, and harsher penalties for “straw buyers” (those who purchase firearms for others who cannot legally have them). Since then, he’s signed legislation that prohibits automatic weapon modification devices and collects data on gun crime.

Walz remains an enthusiastic hunter – something he’s emphasized in previous campaigns and makes him something of an everyman.

“There’s a vision to reduce gun violence with absolutely no infringement on those who lawfully own guns, to use them for things that many of us cherish,” he told reporters in Bloomington, Minnesota, last week.

Gun safety advocates have already come out in support of his candidacy, including the gun violence prevention organization founded by former congresswoman and gun violence survivor Gabby Giffords (who joined Walz in Minnesota in 2023 when he signed the state’s universal background checks into law).

“As governor, Tim did what others called impossible, passing background checks and extreme risk protection laws in Minnesota with a slim gun safety majority,” Giffords said. “It wasn’t easy, but he got it done with hard work and effective leadership. His work as governor has saved lives, and I know that will continue when he is vice-president.”

Harris’s campaign, which has already drawn great support from gen Z voters and gun violence prevention advocates, has called for an assault weapons ban, universal background checks and red flag laws. Last month, the NRA called her “an existential threat to the second amendment”.

That doesn’t seem to bother Walz. “I had an A rating from the NRA. Now I get straight F’s,” he tweeted last month. “And I sleep just fine.”

[lets-donate-a-kidney]

Reasons to Donate a Kidney

You can make terrible, terrible kidney puns, and no one can stop you from kidney-ing around.

The average lifespan on dialysis is only 5-10 years. You might extend someone's life by 20 years or more!

Dialysis is painful, exhausting, prevents a person from holding a regular work schedule or traveling, and weakens their body over time. Eventually, it fails. You'd be freeing someone to have a normal life.

You aren't just helping the recipient: you're giving something priceless to all the friends and family members who care about that person.

Kidneys from living donors have a higher success rate than kidneys from deceased donors, and last for twice as long!

You might start a kidney chain, in which multiple people receive kidneys! The longest chain on record gave kidneys to over 100 people - and was started by a stranger who didn't know any of them.

Over 80,000 people in the USA alone need a kidney transplant, and several thousand die every year waiting for one. But if even just 1 in 1000 adults donated a kidney, we could wipe out the waiting list overnight.

Kidneys almost always fail in pairs. Your chance of kidney failure isn't much higher with one kidney compared to two.

You get cool donation scars to show people!

Kidney donors actually live longer than the general population, and have a lower rate of kidney failure! Why? Because the screening process for kidney donation screens out potential illnesses early, and kidney donors are more likely to take care of their bodies afterward.

If your remaining kidney does fail, you'll be put at the top of the kidney wait-list, and spend much less time on dialysis. As a result, kidney donors actually have a higher survival rate for kidney failure than non-donors.

The National Kidney Registry also lets kidney donors extend this waitlist benefit to several friends and relatives, in case any of them ever have kidney failure.

The risk of long-term complications from kidney donation is extremely low. Most people can start walking within a day of surgery, go back to work in 1-2 weeks, and are back to 100% within a month.

Doctors and nurses LOVE doing living donor transplants! The success rate is high, complications are low, there's none of the tragedy associated with postmortem transplants, and for once their patients are eager to be there. And, as my nephrologist said, "It's a lot more rewarding than prescribing Viagra!"

It's a way to put a little more kindness into the world, and your example might inspire others, too.

In the USA, all costs for surgery and screenings are covered by the recipient's health insurance or Medicaid/Medicare; you as the donor will not have to pay for it. You can also get reimbursement for lost income through the National Kidney Registry.

Most people will have to get surgery and spend a night in the hospital anyway if they live long enough. Donating an organ lets you have this experience on your terms, while you're healthy, so hospitalization won't be scary or overwhelming if you need it later in life.

You'll learn new things about your body! I discovered that I had an extra vein on the left side of my torso, and that my hemoglobin levels were low. The vein is harmless and cool, but the hemoglobin thing (and taking iron supplements for it) actually helped me avoid developing an iron deficiency later.

It's a chance to be part of something bigger than yourself - a miracle of modern science!

I won't say donating a kidney was "easy," but I will say it was 95% waiting on people, 4% letting doctors and nurses talk at me, and 1% letting them stick me with needles. The hardest part wasn't pain, or fear, but sitting around tired for a couple days.

You probably won't have to make many modifications to your lifestyle after kidney donation. Literally the only activity I was told to avoid was contact sports, and if I'm in pain I take acetaminophen instead of ibuprofen.

You can get a tattoo that says "Some parts may be missing," or "Organ donation - it takes guts!" and a kidney pillow souvenir.

If donating while alive isn't right for you, you can still sign up to be a postmortem organ donor, and increase awareness of living donation! Remember, it would only take a small percentage of people donating to make a BIG difference!