#but it's secondhand non-information at this point

[askshivanulegacy]

OP straddles the line between true and untrue, so the link that someone else had to provide for them is the important thing to read here:

The post notes along the way that pacemakers cannot be donated to humans, but that's not quite accurate. While pacemakers are considered single-use devices that should not be implanted in a second person in the U.S., used pacemakers are sometimes shipped overseas to lower and moderate-income nations. The Denver Post reported in 2010 that veterinarians were finding that donations of devices abroad were reducing the supply available for pets in the U.S. A program hosted at the University of Michigan’s Frankel Cardiovascular Center sources pacemakers from funeral homes and is leading a clinical trial that reuses the devices after a patient’s death. The My Heart Your Heart Program’s randomized trial has 215 patients enrolled worldwide, and the program has also sent reconditioned pacemakers to “under-resourced countries for life-threatening cases in which there was no alternative,” said Noah Fromson, a spokesperson for U-M Health. Whether donated for patients overseas or animals, the Funeral Consumers Alliance notes that pacemaker donations can usually be coordinated with a funeral home.

It's arguably more important to donate your used pacemakers to actual people, but you have the choice. Either choice is a huge benefit and enormously important to wherever the used device ends up. Definitely worth knowing that your devices can still save lives once you're finished with them.

The article also provides useful links, which enable you to actually act on this information ... unlike OP.

[heartsfromia]

third times the charm — l. chan

pairing: non-idol! chan x f!reader

word count: 2,485

genre: fluff, crack-ish

warnings: chan gives secondhand embarrassment

author's notes: this is the last for my oneshots pt. 1, and i'll be continuing w more, and a heads up that they'll be angst since yk gotta widen my range lol

It was as if the heavens had descended upon Chan the second he stepped into the café; the sight of you behind the counter, eyes trained on the porter filter as you pressed the espresso grinds before locking it in the espresso machine, focused on ensuring the contents of the caffeinated liquid were sufficient for the drink you were working on.

Normally he wouldn’t be fazed, it’s not like he’s never met a girl before. He just never met a girl as beautiful as you.

“Morning, how can I help you?” Even your voice was angelic. You were caught-off guard by Chan as he stood in front of you, not stating your order—as if he was caught in a daze. You blinked in confusion, before raising your hand and waving it over his face, “Hello?”

It worked, and he jumped, shaking his head slightly to return back to reality. He was totally not thinking about how you two would live in an apartment uptown, own a Siamese cat, and a Golden Retriever. “Oh, sorry… what did you say?”

You chuckled awkwardly, “What would you like to order?”

“Uhm, an iced Americano, and two caramel latte—” His eyes darted towards the name-tag by your collar. “—Y/N.”

You nodded, punching in his order, before asking, “Take out?”

“Yes, please.” It felt as if he couldn’t take his eyes off you as you informed him the total, and he hurriedly reached in his pocket and handing you a twenty. “You can keep the change.”

This is almost a ten dollar tip, you thought.

“And the order will be under what name?”

There was a momentary pause before he jumped, stammering, “Uh, Chan! Chan, under… Chan.”

“Okay, it'll be ready in a few minutes.” You quickly turned, not wanting to witness him as he awkwardly nods, mouth opening to respond but nothing coming out.

You weren’t going to lie, and act like you didn’t notice his staring—to say the least, you were used to it. Not in a all-too-vain way, but you were aware when guys found you attractive—their dazed looks would eventually lead them to asking for your number, and then you’d be disappointed because all of them expected you to cave and agree to their proposals to go on a date.

You hated that pattern.

Within this year alone, you’ve had two guys approach you—star-struck from meeting you, and asked you out on a date, with no intentions with getting to know you first. Sure, you knew dates were a place where people can get to know each other, but dates were also places that led to a relationship, and to be honest, you never wanted to jump right into one with just anyone. You loathed the idea of constantly going on dates, just to become someone’s girlfriend. What about being friends first?

Nonetheless, knowing this, you’d put those guys through a test, and if they don’t pass then mission: ghost them until they get the hint and leave you alone, is commenced.

You knew Chan would fall on that list of failures, so you didn’t pay him too much mind as you worked on his order.

“Have a great day,” you uttered, and Chan smiled, wishing the same for you before walking out of the café. A happy sigh escaped his lips—the sun was kissing the highest points of his face, a new feeling during this gloomy month, it seemed such a perfect day to meet such a perfect girl, he thought.

That is until he glanced at his wristwatch, remembering why he was at the café in the first place before his heart dropped to his feet, and they hurriedly carried him to the class he was already running late to.

Pushing the door to class, he peeked his head through the small gap, relieved to see the professor’s table empty and quickly rushed in, finding his seat between Seungkwan and Vernon—the former glaring at him for taking a long time to bring him his iced americano. “What took you so long?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologized, placing the drinks in front of his friends. “Where’s the professor?”

“At the bathroom, you’re lucky,” Vernon chirped, thanking quietly for the drink. “How come it took you so long?”

“Well, besides getting your coffees, I had already woken up later than usual,” he complained, “there was also a line in the café—not that long, but I was already running late and you guys told me to go buy coffee, which added on to the fact I was running late, making me even more late—”

“Still, it doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes,” Seungkwan cut him off, causing Chan to glare at him.

Then he remembered you, a dazed smile appearing on his face. His thoughts became flooded by you, your pretty name, your pretty voice, your pretty face, your pretty everything. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if you were an angel sent to make him fall in love with you.

“What’s with that face—oh my God, stop that, it’s actually creepy,” Seungkwan cringed, covering his eyes.

“Do you guys know Y/N? She’s the barista at Seventeen Café,” Chan asked, looking hopeful between his two friends.

“I know of her,” Seungkwan states, sipping his coffee. “Is that why you were taking so long? Busy drooling over her?”

“I wasn't drooling over—” Chan's attempt at defending himself were cut short when the professor returned from the bathroom, an look of exasperation written all over his face.

“My apologies class, I might have gotten food poisoning so the class is dismissed for the rest of today, see you next—” Poor man wasn't able to finish his sentence before hurling in the nearest trash can.

“Sucks for Professor Jang, but great for us… I guess,” Seungkwan says out loud, earning agreeable nods from both Chan and Vernon. “What do we do now?”

As the three approach the entrance of the college building, Chan's eyes immediately lock towards the small coffee shop right across from campus, the tense of shoulders noticeable by his two friends.

“We're not going—”

“Why not?” He couldn't help but whine, “I really want to get to know her, she seems really cool.”

“And you want us to be there to witness you failing completely?”

“Come on, Kwan, cut the guy some slack,” Vernon chimes in, “who knows? He might actually know how to flirt with a girl.”

“So, you come here often?” Your eyes glanced at Chan's two friends; one pursing his lips to hold in his laugh, as the other audibly smacks his forehead, the slap echoing throughout the fairly empty café interior.

You stood by their table, grasping onto the note and pen, eyes darting around the place before answering, “Well, considering I work here, yes.”

You could see the firsthand embarrassment register into him, his jaw stiffening before he rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“I'm so sorry,” one of his friends, the blonde one sipping an iced americano, interjected, “we'll have two slices of carrot cake and a tiramisu.”

“Sure, I'll be right back.” You really wished you weren't. After placing their orders on the table, you quickly ducked your head, seeking refuge in the back room for staff only, finding your senior and former trainer, Joshua, chewing on a chocolate chip cookie.

“Why do you look distressed?”

“There's another one of those guys out there.”

“Those guys?” Joshua repeated, eyebrows knitting together before they rose in realization. “Oh, the ones that are trying to get your number?”

You frowned, nodding and sunk to the floor beside your senior, extending your hand for half of his cookie. He split it in half, placing it on your hand and chuckled as you stuffed the entire thing in your mouth. “But this one, he's so awkward.”

“Aren't they all?”

“I mean, yeah—”

“Stop talking with your mouth full,” Joshua scolded, and you closed your mouth, chewing and swallowing the cookie crumbs. “Who is it, anyway? Do you know them?”

You shook your head. “His name is Chan.”

“Which Chan? Bang Chan, Lee Chan, Heo Chan?” You shrugged. Joshua then stood up, peeking his head through the door to catch a glimpse of who you were talking about. “The only Chan I see out there is Lee Chan—he's great, Y/N.”

“You say that to every guy.”

“Because they are,” Joshua emphasizes, “they're great until they don't pass your test.”

You only rolled your eyes, your mouth craving for more sugary goods.

“Have you put him through your test?” Joshua asked, returning to his initial position.

You shook your head, “It was too awkward already, and his friends are there, and he asked me do I come here often—here as in the place I work in, like of course I do, dude.”

Laughter echoed throughout the staff room, Joshua's head thrown back from hearing the little anecdote about your new admirer. Being your co-worker for the past year, he's the first guy you go to after one of those guys attempt to make a move on you. He's the first to advise to give them a chance, but also the first guy you gloat to when none of the guys pass your test.

“Go give it try, Y/N, what is he, the third guy now?” You nod. “You know what they say, third times the charm.”

“I don't think I have much luck with men, Josh,” you admitted, pouting bitterly. Your senior only rolled his eyes, shoving you gently towards the door. Begrudgingly, you stood up, headed towards the door, but turned, “If it doesn't work out, then you need to stop encouraging me to give these guys a chance.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You couldn't help but flip him off, eliciting more laughter. Your eyes darted to where Chan and his friends were sitting, their plates of cake already empty and you weren’t sure as to why they were still even here.

From where you stood, you cocked your head to the side, thinking, if Chan doesn’t say dumb things, he’s actually pretty cute. The way his eyes closed as he smiled widely, a smile you found contagious as one appeared on your face as well.

Obviously you hoped at least one guy would pass your test, it wasn’t that hard of a test—at least, you thought so.

“Hey, I wanted to pay for the cakes.” You looked up from where you stood behind the counter, Chan standing in front of you and it seemed he had a bit more confidence than he did when you first saw him earlier, and twenty minutes ago.

“Sure, let me just ring you up.”

“Y/N, was it?” You glanced up at him and nodded. “I was wondering if you wanted to join my friends and I, we’re planning to watch that new Avatar movie in theatres tonight.”

Oh, no asking for my number… That’s new.

But still, you had to put him to the test. “Oh, I already watched that movie with my boyfriend.” The thing is, you didn’t have a boyfriend. This was step one to your three step test, and every other guy before had messed up right here.

Chan looked visibly shocked, although you never knew that was more disappointed in himself—of course you’d already have a boyfriend. It was too good to be true.

“Oh… is it good?”

“Yeah, it’s good,” you responded, using the most basic adjectives because you did not, in fact, watch it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go—Chan was supposed to look annoyed, angry at you for leading him on, despite the fact that you had a boyfriend. He wasn’t supposed to keep a normal person-to-person conversation with once he knew you weren’t available.

Then, what surprised you most was what came out of your mouth afterwards. “Is it okay if I come along?”

Chan's eyes widened, before he nodded, “Sure, is that okay with you?”

Next step. A dry chuckle escaped your lips as you asked snidely, “Don't you mean is it okay with my boyfriend?”

Chan looked genuinely in thought before shaking his head. “No, I mean, you're grown adult—I'm sure you're able to make your own decisions.”

Odd. You always found that guys were immediate to step back when you state that you had a boyfriend, rather than you were purely not interested. It seemed that a lot of guys respect the boyfriend rather than the girl they bothered.

“I mean, if I'm coming off a bit too forward with the invitation and it might stir trouble in your relationship, I also understand if you're not okay with it,” Chan added, and you nodded.

“No, it's fine, Chan.”

His eyes widened completely, shocked. “You know my name?”

You laughed, nodding, “I took your order, remember?”

Red began to dot his cheeks as he realized, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh yeah…” Seeing his flustered self, you were glad he was still somewhat embarrassing.

“Can I ask, Chan?” Final step. He nodded, not trusting his mouth. “If I didn't mention my boyfriend, would you still want to hang out with me?”

Without hesitation, he nodded. “Of course—I mean, sure you're really pretty, but you seem really cool and I'd like to get to know you, you know? I don't know—” he shrugged, “—I never wanted to jump into a relationship, I'm sorry if it came off as if I was too forward, really, Y/N. But I do want us to get to know each other as friends, I feel like we'd click a lot.”

A smile etched across your features, eyes creasing at the edge as you reached for your notepad, jotting down your number before ripping the sheet and handing it to him. “Just text me, and I'll meet you at the theatre.”

His eyes glazed over your number, a genuine smile appearing on his lip before he reassures you that he will, and you excuse yourself to head to the back.

You push the door open, stepping in and quickly pressing your back against the door. Joshua watches you intently, before asking, “So, did he pass the test?”

You nodded, still a bit dazed by the interaction. “Yeah, he did… With flying colors.”

Joshua smirked, stuffing his umpteenth cookie into his mouth. “Told you third times the charm.”

[i-still-mask-because]

So I was under the impression that we are all still masking cos we care about other people and don't want to get them (especially disabled / immunocompromised / etc) sick from our germs? But I was told masks don't protect the wearer from the virus? Or do they? The info kept changing over the last 2 years so I lost track.. I also heard it was ok to not wear a mask in open outdoor places cos of the aerial nature of the virus (allegedly the particles from our breath are so diluted(?) in the air that it doesn't matter(?)), is that still true? Thanks for your time

Hello! Thank you for reaching out to ask this! It's understandable if it's confusing because of the inconsistency of information that's been told to us by higher ups these past few years. I'll try to answer these chronologically and thoroughly:

Do masks protect the wearer from covid-19?

Yes, if worn correctly, masks are supposed to protect you, the wearer, and the people around you from catching anything you may have. The quality of the mask definitely is a big factor in this too. I went in depth about mask qualities in this ask.

Is it true that you don't have to worry about catching covid-19 outdoors?

No, this is because covid-19 is an airborne virus, and its variants are evolving to be more contagious. While an outdoor environment may provide more circulation to minimize the odds of catching covid-19, that doesn't mean it's 100% impossible to catch it outdoors, especially if you're in a crowded environment like a concert or protest. The likeliness of you not catching covid outdoors is moreso in situations where you're far away from other people. A comparison can be how you can still get secondhand smoke from someone outdoors, even if you're not that physically close to them; the harmful aerosols can still enter your body if you inhale them. Alternatively, the harmful aerosols can still linger in the air for hours even if the person smoking is no longer present.

To put this into perspective: at the time of me writing this, I'm taking an in-person summer course, and during my lunch break I choose to isolate myself somewhere I feel like there's less of a chance of me catching covid, such as sitting by myself in a nearby park as far away from other people as possible. I do this especially because every day 99% of the people I see are not masking anymore, so I treat everyone as though they have covid because I do not know where they've been & who they've interacted with.

Bottom line, masking outdoors is still necessary because covid's variants are getting better at being infectious & can still linger in the air (like the secondhand smoke example), and there's no way to know whether or not who you bump into outdoors may have covid or not, unless they explicitly told you. Either way, I don't see a point in risking it.

Here's a podcast episode from the Death Panel that goes into the misconception that covid-19 is non-transmissible outdoors. And this is a link to the transcript for that episode.

I hope this helped!

[thebroccolination]

Today, I saw a tweet by a Thai Krist fan named June in which she thanked interfans for supporting Krist in spite of the language barrier and all the misinformation that surrounds him. June has been fan of Krist for a long time, and she's even shared a bunch of firsthand accounts in English of her experiences with Krist from early in his career. (They're very cute.)

Dear all inter fans who love Krist, thanks for loving him although you might not be able to clearly understand what he said or fully convey your feelings to him due to the language barrier. Although with this big barrier, you are still with him, don't give up on him, don't believe in any fake rumors and be his strength. Thanks so much 💕💕 –@qu_upqn_np

A minor incident prompted her to tweet this out, but because of the language barrier, I didn't fully follow it. From what I understand (and please don't cite me as a source if you carry this information forward) a fan tweeted a customer complaint to Krist directly about a peeling graphic on a concert T-shirt she bought. Krist replied to her and asked her to write to the official merch account, presumably because neither he nor The General Public can help her with her problem and that kind of thing can make the quality of his merch look shoddy. According to a few Thai fans, some interfans used the auto-translate feature on his tweet, decided that the auto-translated English looked rude, and started attacking him for being rude to his fan. It got to the point where Thai fans and fan translators had to explain that he was, in fact, very polite to her. He used "khab" and "phi" to refer to her, but English doesn't use those parts of speech, so auto-translate omitted them.

This was before my fellow interfan friend messaged me to ask why she was seeing interfans say that Boun's fans were calling him a drunkard (???).

A couple of days ago, Boun happily took a selfie with an interfan after an event where he drank a bit, and now this is somehow something people want to crucify him for because fan benefits and selfie rules etc. etc. etc. (There's context to this but it's frankly such a non-issue I'm astonished we're even talking about it.) One person did call Boun a drunkard, but they're an anti account (I know, even Boun has antis, the world's surprises never cease). The only other references to drinking were interfans saying, "He was just drunk and happy (and that's why he was happy to take the selfie)."

The way nuanced information is often squished into bite-sized pieces is both wild and worrying.

And it must be maddening for Thai fans to share a space with people who click auto-translate on Thai tweets, draw completely off-the-mark conclusions from a rough approximation or completely false mistranslation of what was actually said, and then use that as justification to attack the actors they love in foreign languages. There's a rampant Attack First, Ask Questions Never culture online these days, and we've got to collectively agree to chill before throwing on-fire furniture at each other.

These are both obviously ridiculous incidents, but they both garnered a lot of conversation among Thai fans.

I figured I'd share them here because I think Tumblr sometimes gets secondhand information from Twitter, and I wanted to demonstrate how some of this stuff gets misinterpreted before it even leaves the platform. It's interesting to investigate how these things happen, and hopefully it helps prevent similar misunderstandings from happening in the future.

(Also, for what it's worth, I have a concert shirt made by Krist's fan club and it's very comfy and has survived numerous washes completely intact.)

[captain-hawks]

Dee my beloved!! I missed you so very much these past couple of weeks! I have post notifications for you turned on so every time I got a lil notification from you I would be like c: when I saw your url and then :c bc I was usually too distracted/busy to come on here esp bc I need a laptop for the level of word vomit I usually conjure up for your precious thoughts and words.

I hope you're feeling better, so sorry to hear you were sick. I spent 20 hours making over 2 gallons of noodle soup and all its accoutrement for my bf's surprise bday party so I'm virtually sharing it with you. It's a bun rieu with plenty of Dungeness crab topped with lots of fresh veggie and herbs and homemade crab meatballs and herby fish paste and lil porky meatballs.

Did you do anything fun over labor day/are you prepping for fall in any way? I'm switching out my candlessss even though it is still a hellscape where I am and will feel like living on the surface of the sun until November.

I missed your AMA so can I ask now? What's the most embarassing thing that's happened to you in recent memory? Bc I flew home for a wedding and although it was for the son of beloved family friends (the son i also consider a brother figure), some people should not get schwasty in public bc the father of the groom came over loudly proclaim/lament that he wished *i* was becoming his daughter in law instead. At his son's wedding to a very sweet lady I adore. Five separate times. With people all around. I wanted to return 2 the sea. I wanted to be left alone in a corner with the 6 ebooks I had downloaded. I literally hid in a restroom for 75 minutes and risked everybody thinking I had The Shits just so I could get some peace to myself.

Anyways, before I go I am going to leave you with some of the final product of the cake I was telling you about that I was testing different components for. I really wish I could actually share with y'all instead of just telling you and cate about it in chats but until wonkavision is invented I'll pretend sending a pic is the same thing. I settled on double vanilla brown butter cake/pickled cayenne strawberry compote/yuzu and lemon curd liquid cheesecake/graham milk crumb. The layers didn't come out as cleanly as I'd hoped but I might try another one with white and yellow peaches (macerated? Cooked into a jam or Japanese style syrup?) and a Mango curd to squeeze every last bit of summer fruit season out.

If kita-non is around and for some reason bothers to read my inane prattle can i pls share a slice with u too. The couple times I got to skim your thoughts these past few weeks I was spending time offline I wanted to give your brain a big ole squeeze. Just lookin' at the pair of you with hearts in my eyes like look at u guys go torturing us with sweet sweet kita thoughts. We can pretend he supplied the fruits used in the cake ❤

I'M SO HAPPY YOU'RE BACK 😭🫶!!!!!

i was still feeling quite cruddy over labour day weekend, but i DID go hunt down the CVS puffer jacket snoopy plushie....a personal accomplishment 😂 (he was hard to find!). also i’m planning to bust out my giant totes of halloween decorations this weekend!!! my fall candles are staring at me adoringly from the closet ready to take over.

I AM SO SORRY FOR YOUR MISFORTUNE????? i cannot believe. i, too, would have called the bathroom my new home to never be perceived again. (has anyone informed sober!dad of his big drunk mouth????)

so this is secondhand embarrassment until i come up with a better story BUT i was on a zoom meeting at work today, and a man was pitching software to my boss & i. said man realized 40 minutes in that the software actually isn’t even available in my geographical region and thus he had completely wasted our time. i watched his soul leave his body through the screen. the most awkward goodbye followed.

also if i magically appear in your pocket at some point like a tiny creature with its hands out begging for food, it’s because every time you describe something you’ve made, i yearn like no tomorrow. that soup sounds divine?? AND THE CAKE!!!!! THE CAKE!!!!!!!! it’s beautiful. it puts other cake to shame. i will dream of this cake. it will haunt me.

[bigskydreaming]

Last post on this -

I genuinely would like people who take the opposite POV on this to just think about it, and their own personal answers to this question, which I am not presuming to know. I'm just presenting the question:

Keeping in mind that my opinion on incest is shaped not JUST by the fact that I'm a survivor and aware of its impact on me, but also by how its shaped my entire life, the years I've spent trying to work my mind around why it happened, how it impacted me, how it affected my views of the world, the years of study I've put into the phenomenon of incest and its impact, absorbing all kinds of opinions and input about it while trying to make sense of its place in my life and history.....keeping in mind that my views on incest and even its impact on me were NOT always consistent or linear and there have been periods of my life where I held different opinions on it, and some points where I even internalized a lot of the same things people say in fandom to talk about how harmless it is or how its no big deal and thus am actually QUITE familiar with those POVs and the reasons and arguments for thinking those things -

How many people who kneejerk dismiss my reactions to incest as overwrought, too skewed by personal bias, etc.....can honestly say they are as informed on the subject? I'm not even talking about whether or not any individuals reading this are survivors themselves - as I just acknowledged, I'm fully aware that incest survivors can disagree on a lot of this as I myself have held to different opinions on it at prior points in my life so please don't go there -

I'm simply asking you to ask YOURSELVES.....if you're not a survivor yourself, if your knowledge of incest and its possible impact is secondhand or hearsay....

Can you genuinely, in all honesty, say that you've put as much time and contemplation in actively seeking out additional information, counter-arguments, and dissenting opinions to weigh all sides of this before making up your own mind and only THEN coming to the conclusion that its actually no big deal?

Because that is the part that bothers me the most - how often I see survivors dismissed by people who are citing points of view that are EASILY rebutted by even just relatively basic information out there about WHY incest is deemed so harmful, not because of interbreeding or genetics but through the lens of family dynamics and societal impact upon survivors.

I know I've made post after post over the years refuting various pro (or 'neutral') incest talking points or detailing just why its so much more insidious and harmful than a lot of people deem it to be after just a cursory look at a few biased opinions in favor of it.....

And pretty much none of them have ever been engaged with.

And I know I've never seen posts actually TALKING about incest and its impact on people and families getting any kind of traction in fandom circulation.

So I'm genuinely asking, because if people who argue on behalf of it or who dismiss it as no big deal are basing that on having put time and effort into INFORMING themselves on the topic before drawing their own conclusions as to its harmlessness....

They're not basing that on conversations happening in any fandom spaces I've ever seen draw much attention. So they'd have to either have personal knowledge themselves (and while I make no attempt to presume the survivor status of any individual, I will NOT pretend that the entirety of the pro-incest fandom camps so abundant on tumblr and Ao3 are made up entirely of survivors, that's a completely different thing than asking people to be mindful of the possibility a single individual might be speaking from personal knowledge), or they'd have to be seeking out informed stances on the possible harm of incest through non-fandom spaces before deciding that yeah, actually incest is no big deal.

And I'm sorry, but I do not see that latter possibility as all that likely, based on ANY fandom experience I have when it comes to controversial topics and lived experiences.

So.....if there are a lot of people out there whose insistence that incest is no big deal is rooted entirely in just having internalized fandom opinions in DEFENSE of it or its lack of capacity to do harm....

I would like to ask people to reflect on that, and the implications.

If your own stance on incest isn't based on personal experiences or having sought out or informed yourselves on BOTH arguments in defense of it and in CRITICISM of it.....

Maaaaaaaybe skip the condescending takes about whether people who cite it as a bad thing that does harm have done THEIR due diligence before deciding that yes, it actually IS harmful and SHOULD be spoken out against?

Something to think about, is all I'm saying.

[peppermintquartz]

Eames is an enigma.

Arthur, ever since he was a kid, likes solving puzzles. He likes thinking through problems and finding the steps to the answer. Languages were not his strong suit, back when he was in school, until he realized that a word could be a key to understanding the mystery of a person.

Eames, though... Eames is nearly inscrutable.

Eames is only a few years older, but by the time Arthur met him, he's lived several lives in several skins. The easy grin and ugly shirts hide the incisive mind and incredible adaptability of the forger. Have one meal with him and he can ferret out everything about you, and you will know only his entrée and his drink for that evening.

Arthur envies Eames' ability to conduct small talk to gather information. It's one thing to read medical records and job interviews and psychiatrists' notes to know that a mark is paranoid and resentful of authority, quite another to chat with him over a water cooler to work out that he used to be locked up in the garden shed until midnight by his grandpa for not finishing his dinner.

The puzzles Eames solves are people. Arthur struggles to figure them out and has to rely on secondhand data, because he can't act, he doesn't know how to appear non-threatening or casual, he just can't. It is a useful trait because it keeps people from underestimating him for his youthful appearance, but it also keeps people from being open with him.

But Eames - that maddeningly opaque man - is always willing to answer Arthur's questions. Sometimes the answers are obvious lies, said with a leer and a wink to get a rise out of Arthur, but sometimes... Sometimes, when it's the two of them in a makeshift office or down in a dream, Eames is startlingly honest.

Arthur doesn't abuse the privilege. Eames' trust came slowly, like drops of water wearing a hole through a pebble; they'd worked together on at least a dozen jobs and Arthur's proven himself thrice over that he will watch Eames' back that the latter tells Arthur what he really likes to eat.

Bits and pieces of his life Eames shares with Arthur, some contradictory, some complementary. Poker games as a means of keeping his observation skills sharp. His preferred bourbon. How he likes his eggs at breakfast, wink wink. Black coffee or tea with two sugars or a mug of Ovaltine, depending on when Arthur asks.

But Eames is infuriating too. He ruins some of Arthur's jobs for nothing more than a lark, or sets up false leads that distract Arthur from the task at hand, or sends Arthur tickets to Greek islands that have nothing in the way of amenities.

Arthur is aware that Eames likes him in a more-than-platonic way. Eames knows that Arthur knows. There is no other way to interpret the looks Eames gives him, how the older man brushes his hand over Arthur's arm, the way he snarls at anyone who even dares to challenge Arthur's role as point man. Make fun of Arthur's stuffiness, sure. Provoke him about the smallest details? Why not. Make him the butt of jokes and pranks? Eames will be the first to suggest some tricks.

But suggest that Arthur be replaced? No. Where Arthur goes, so goes Eames' kingdom, if they are on the same project.

It's less a date and more a dare when Arthur invites Eames to dinner. Eames accepts. And over dinner, Arthur learns a little more about how to make sense of the puzzle that is Eames.

For one thing, Eames doesn't like eggs at breakfast.

[lollytea]

hello hello!! so i've been following you for years (trolls era) and i literally haven't seen past like ep 2 of toh BUT i know so so much about it thru osmosis of ur blog enough to the point that seeing someone drag huntlow makes me like. secondhand ready to Fight. filled with rage.

so anyway letting you know i had a dream last night about what i must have thought their first episode interaction was like in canon since i've not seen it. very weird and hard to describe but a kiss was involved which i know is SO fucking incorrect, but it did make sense to me at the time since it used things i've seen talked about here (namely ur funny post about being delighted he remembered her name between eps). Anyway . thank u for injecting the hunlows into my non-toh-informed brainspace enough that i can make whole episodes abt them in my dreams?? i had a great time keep up the good work soldier 👍

ASGDVDJNK Actually laughed out loud at this one, it's phrased so funny. Thank you so much, I love you.

It always gets me when people who've never actually seen the show are defensive about huntlow. They ignite protective instincts. I know quite a few people who are like "I've never seen owl house but I know huntlow is good because Lolly said so and I trust her." Warms my heart.

Even knowing nothing about them, they are pleasant to look at. They're little sweeties!! Look!! Very shaped. Very nice. Very wholesome.

I hope that even if you never watch this show in your life, you hold them in fond regard. They are neat.

[marleybosswitch]

It had been twelve hours of non-stop begging, pleading and crying, but yet the woman in charge of the shelter had refused to budge. She’d stood in front of Marley, arms folded and lips pursed and had informed her that there was no way that not only could she not allow Bucket to stay after the dog’s presence in the shelter had been revealed, but nor could Marley remain there either.

As she stuffed her clothes haphazardly into a duffel bag, Bucket sat on the floor, head cocked as he let out a low whine before eventually padding forward and pushing his head against her hand. A sob caught in her throat as she turned, just enough to give him a quick scratch behind the ears. Nothing like her usual long, affectionate pets. After muttering a quick, “not now, boy.” to him, she turned back to the task at hand, trying her hardest not to feel too guilty about the betrayed look he was giving her, as if he might be wondering if his owner was blaming him for the situation that they were now both in.

It hadn’t really been Bucket’s fault. He was a good dog, the best if anyone else was to ask Marley. But a fight had broken out down the hallway between two women and the sound of smashing glass had startled the normally docile hound, prompting him to bark loudly in a manner that couldn’t be disguised as anything else. Soon, Marley had been reported and had been given less than a day to gather her belongings and her dog, before the two of them were both turfed out onto the street. It seemed like a counterproductive message for a women’s shelter to send out but, as they had pointed out, Marley had been the first one to betray their trust by breaking the rules. She knew that, but there had also been no way in hell she would ever have willingly given up Bucket, not when he needed her.

Quite ironically, that’s what she was being forced to do now as she looped his leash around her wrist and shouldered her bag. The strap, heavy with clothes, dog toys, a bowl and some of her own measly possessions like the old, sorry-looking Disney teddies her dad had bought her for birthdays gone by, cut into her shoulder, biting harshly into the material of her secondhand winter coat, a steal she’d been proud of when she’d found it after dragging Sephy thrifting one day. Her attempt at trying to adjust it so it sat comfortably was interrupted by a loud hammering on her door that caused her to flinch and Bucket to drop back on his haunches with a low growl. 

“Five minutes, Bostwick!” a firm voice ran through the door.

After a quick look around the tiny little room that she’d come to call home over the last few years, she took no satisfaction in trying to heave a dramatic sigh to make the situation more movie-like, more melancholy. As much as Marley tried to find the funny side of all situations, this time, she just felt sad.

“Come on, boy,” she encouraged Bucket, tugging him out of the room.

A quick subway ride later found them pushing into the warmth of A Novel Idea, the only place that Marley could think to go right now. Diego and Poppy were still on tour, the last thing Sephy needed right now was Marley to dump a dog on her and terrorise the living daylights out of Grantaire, and, quite honestly, Marley wasn’t sure she had any other options than that. Still unsure what she was going to do with her own damn self other than scout around for some cheap hotels until she got something more permanent, she knew she had to sort out something for Bucket first.

Feeling him tug on her leash, she looked up to see her dog straining to run in the direction of Harlow. Her heart gave a sad, little leap upon seeing the other man. Ever since meeting him and getting to know him, she’d lived in a poorly-constructed fantasy world where Harlow looked her way and saw her as someone he’d have liked to be his daughter in another life. She knew he already had one because he’d mentioned her a few times, and Marley had been violently jealous of this faceless girl she’d never met who had a dad that spoke of her so proudly. She wasn’t sure if her own dad told many people about her anymore.

“Hi,” she greeted Harlow, a little tiredly, certainly far more subdued than her usual exuberant greetings which were usually accompanied by her comical attempts at a “yeehaw!” or a fake hat tip. She knew she looked different as well. No signature eyeliner, eyes red-rimmed and watery instead, and her hair piled onto the top of her head in a messy bun. But not in the cute “my mom just sold me to One Direction” way.

Glancing around the semi-empty store, she turned back to Harlow.

“Is Billy here?” she asked, wondering if even Simon was around. She felt like perhaps either man would be kind enough to take Bucket off her hands until she could find a better living situation for them both, even if the thought tore up her insides.

[fitjourneydaily]

Taking Charge of Your Lung Health: A Guide to Smoking Cessation and Avoiding Secondhand Smoke

Introduction: Welcome to our comprehensive guide on smoking cessation and protecting your lung health. Tobacco use and exposure to secondhand smoke are major contributors to various illnesses, including lung cancer, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), and heart disease. Whether you are a smoker aiming to quit or someone seeking to avoid secondhand smoke, we are here to help you achieve your goals and make informed choices for a healthier life. Section 1: Understanding the Hazards of Smoking Smoking tobacco is a leading cause of preventable diseases worldwide. Its harmful effects are well-documented, and quitting smoking is one of the best decisions you can make for your lung health. Here are some key points to consider: 1.1 The Health Risks: - Smoking and lung cancer: Tobacco smoking is responsible for around 85% of lung cancer cases worldwide. - Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD): Smoking damages airways, leading to COPD, a progressive and debilitating respiratory condition. - Cardiovascular diseases: Smoking increases the risk of heart attacks, stroke, and other heart-related issues. 1.2 Secondhand Smoke: Secondhand smoke is equally dangerous as direct smoking. It contains over 4,000 chemicals, including more than 70 known carcinogens. Children and non-smoking adults exposed to secondhand smoke are at an increased risk of respiratory infections, asthma, and sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS). Section 2: Tools and Techniques for Quitting Smoking Quitting smoking may seem challenging, but with the right strategies and support, it is entirely possible. Here are effective tools and techniques to help you embark on a smoke-free journey: 2.1 Set a Quit Date: Choose a specific date to quit smoking. This will allow you to mentally prepare and build a support system. 2.2 Nicotine Replacement Therapy (NRT): Consider using NRT methods such as nicotine patches, gum, nasal sprays, inhalers, or lozenges to alleviate withdrawal symptoms. 2.3 Behavioral Support: Join support groups, counseling sessions, or online communities where you can share experiences, discuss challenges, and seek guidance. 2.4 Healthy Coping Mechanisms: Find healthier alternatives to deal with stress, such as exercising, meditating, or pursuing hobbies. Engage in activities that distract you from cravings. Section 3: Protecting Yourself from Secondhand Smoke If you're a non-smoker, avoiding secondhand smoke is crucial. Here are some practical steps to protect yourself and your loved ones: 3.1 Smoke-Free Environment: Choose smoke-free establishments, such as restaurants, bars, and public places. Opt for smoke-free accommodation during travel. 3.2 Establish Boundaries: Set clear boundaries with friends or family members who smoke. Ask for their support in refraining from smoking near you or in enclosed spaces. 3.3 Ventilation: Ensure proper ventilation in your home to minimize the impact of secondhand smoke. Keep windows open and use air purifiers if necessary. 3.4 Educate Others: Spread awareness about the dangers of secondhand smoke and encourage smokers to quit. Advocacy can create a positive impact on individuals and communities. Conclusion: Your lung health is a precious asset, and taking steps to quit smoking and avoid secondhand smoke can significantly reduce your risk of developing severe health conditions. Remember, the journey towards a smoke-free life is unique to each individual, and seeking support from healthcare professionals and loved ones is vital. By committing to a healthier lifestyle, you're empowering yourself to live a longer, healthier life. Tags for WordPress: 1. Smoking Cessation 2. Tobacco Addiction 3. Secondhand Smoke 4. Lung Healt Discover a new era of wellness with Puralean's Natural Weight Loss Supplement. Our carefully crafted formula supports your weight loss goals naturally and effectively. Harness the power of nature to achieve your dream body. Learn more on the Puralean Natural Weight Loss Supplement Product Page. Read the full article

[kinglyisms-archived]

They are holding a slight grudge against Wyatt for calling them short. It's not stopping them from using Starlight as a spot to listen to gossip and secondhand Information about Abarith since they're working with a mostly blank slate aside from 'Izumi has a romantic endeavor around here' and 'There's a God, who like all God's is unimaginably bored and fickle all the time.'

It does mean that they're taking up bar space and only ordering non-alcoholic drinks (or versions of them) and water ( they already asked for tea and got a weird look. ) They are pointedly staring at the back of his head watching him interact with patrons in between reading pages of a book---who even brings a book to a bar?, you might ask.

Lyric. Lyric does. It prevents people from talking to them too easily, because why would they ever want to be social at a bar? What kind of silly thought is that?

@lunarscaled

   Wyatt doesn’t really care how people spend their time at the bar. The entire point of Starlight is to do what the fuck you want on your level of drunk or sober. He has plenty of people that come just to hang out, others who come to have sex and some who come to get wasted. Casimir, for example, was a frequent floater. He comes in, orders a drink, and drinks that drink slowly the entire time he mingles around trying to pick someone up to fuck them. And that doesn’t bother Wyatt anymore than someone reading a book at his bar. 

   Gossip is common place at Starlight, if you want to learn something it’s your best source to do that. The second best source is Casimir. Wyatt’s come to learn he can pick up anything he wants to know either while bartending or while chatting with Casimir. Despite his rather put-off demeanor, he does enjoy talking to certain people. The incubus is one of them, and Casimir is eager to chat back if given an opening. And while working–Wyatt’s usually got a shot or two in him which greatly loosens his tongue.  

   He makes his way back around the counter over toward the freeloader and Casimir, who had given up chatting for the night it seemed. His head on top of his arms at the bar and a soft sigh leaving him. Wyatt grabs a shot glass and places it down in front of him, filling it with a soft blue liquid and adding a bit of flare to it. It sparks like a set of stars and he shoves it toward the man. “Here. Drink more. That one’s free.”

   “I really shouldn’t drink more. I do have to work tomorrow.” Despite his words he picks the shot glass up, throws it back and then sets it down on the counter. Wyatt snatched it up and placed it down in the bucket to be washed. “Had an off night, or your customers were just boring. I mean one of them is sitting here reading a book. How do you read in the middle of a bar?” 

   “I don’t give a shit what people do here.” He shrugs. “As long as you buy a drink at least. Alcoholic or not. I’ll get you a glass of water before you walk home. And you better drink all of it, Casimir.” He taps the bar and switches his gaze to said book read. “We’re closing soon. Finish up.”

[dazzlegradual]

girl offline

this past new years eve, while many of our peers avowed to avoid alcohol for the next month, my friend delaney and I exchanged our instagram passwords and asked each other to change them and keep them a secret. while the both of us agreed that critically examining one's relationship to alcohol is great, particularly with how casual alcoholism is enabled throughout our culture (looking at you, wine mom tea towels at homes goods). 'dry january' didn't feel like the right fit for either of us. neither of us are huge drinkers.

I didn't drink for most of the pandemic. now, my nights out dancing with friends, hangs at breweries, occasional trail beers (one of life's greatest pleasures), and bottles of wine shared at board game nights fall within the realm of (what i'd categorize) as healthy.

anyway, my 'month off social media' passed with little consequence or fanfare. I didn't yearn to check instagram once. after delaney and I exchanged passwords, I decided that staying off instagram should also mean staying off all other social media. I already don't use snapchat, tiktok (usually), or twitter. I did continue using pinterest, tumblr, and reddit. I decided that the way I used them was non-addictive and thus probably fine. but I did remove the apps from my phone. I did also stayed on BeReal.

throughout january, all the instances in which my new less-online proclivities were points of discomfort were purely external. my internal world went on uninterrupted, but around my peers, I did notice that my ability to participate in our shared culture subsided. a few occasions transpired, for example, where a friend wanted to send me the instagram account of a tattoo artist they liked, or they referenced a TikTok audio in conversation that I didn't get. (I was reminded that the least funny thing someone can do is try to explain a TikTok audio to you. I wish people didn't do this.)

besides secondhand embarassment, these instances didn't really bother me. life moved on. January rolled into February, and it did not occur to me to re-download social media. when I realized this, I texted Delaney, and we shared a short conversation about it:

honestly, thank god for Delaney. it felt so good that I had a confidant in this experiment, but it did get harder as the month went on. during the latter half of February, I had a few compulsions to check instagram, though, notably, they weren't born out of pure, idle boredom. they were for specific reasons: I wanted to look up a podcast host's page after they mentioned something on their show; I met someone cool at a concert and they wanted to exchange handles; I was curious if a local venue I liked had shows coming up, and they update ig more than their website. I resisted these temptations, deciding it would be worthwhile to hold out for the rest of February. though of these instances I took note that, given all the new reasons I craved checking instagram reflected actual intentional thinking and reasoning, it might be worthwhile to consider a use of instagram as a information hub rather that a social channel. this shift would mirror more closely to how I use reddit -- I go on for specific information relating to my interests, like for paramore set lists (lol) or how to hem a pair of pants (i'm short).

as i'm writing this, it's now March 1st, and I caved this morning. I asked Delaney for my ig password back. I felt weirdly anxious logging back in, critical and suspicious of any dopamine-rush adjacent feelings. I logged in, and the algorithm eagerly delivered all the posts I wanted to see on a shiny silver platter: a friend had an anniversary, another posted beautiful photos from a recent trip, another recently got a puppy, an author I like announced a new book, my 10 year high school reunion is this year (lol), and my mom had sent me a cool travel account. cool. things I was genuinely excited to see.

with that settled, the novelty wore off rapidly. good god, there were so many ads! there were literally ads every 3-4 instagram stories: pod shaped toothbrushes (why is everything a god damn pod these days), CBD gummies, running shoes, artisanal coffee, birth control. it seemed like you could get a subscription for everything you could ever need. scrolling through stories felt like I was listening to an endless mid-episode ad reel of a podcast.

i then went to the explore page and encountered a truly horrendous amount of ads: actual humans blending seamlessly into an mirage of makeup tutorials, clay pots, cute cats, and hiking trails. everything there that wasn't an ad was still trying to sell me something: a new recipe to try, a dress I don't need, a planter that looks expensive, a face oil that probably does nothing, a buy-guide on how to recreate a hayley williams makeup look. the entirely of the explore page was coded exactly to my interests and proclivities, and it weirded me out how well these algorithms seemed designed to sell me shit I truly didn't need.

this was about the point where my crisis began. did I want to be here? was staying up to date with hundreds of acquaintances, friends, past lovers, old classmates, brief coworkers, and literally all of my family members from the worth the millions of generated e-billboards designed for other young millennial, white, feminist, childless, tastefully ironic (BUT NOT TOO ONLINE), fiona apple listening, anime watching, west coast-coded, leftist, sophia coppola loving, queer, outdoorsy, well-read college educated girlies just like me? (who are all also extremely individually unique, obviously).

did I need to buy supplements, or did I just like the container they came in? did I actually like the headband, or did a pretty girl get paid to post a picture of herself in it? did I need a new jumpsuit or did the big bud press model look cool in it? do I need a new claw clip or do I just like the font that the advertisers chose?

what could I possible gain by being on instagram? what did it add to my life besides benign inadequacy, inferiority, and an excessively long shopping list?

the truth is boring and painfully obvious, and yet we all continue scrolling. but why? fomo? addiction? anxiety? a mere lack of reflection? shortened attention spans? the fraught hope for an occasional dopamine rush when in reality most of us feel worse after spending time on instagram?

to be frank, I'm of sick of feeling this way. and so: this post officially marks the beginning of my attempt to spend the rest of 2023 off of social media. glory be all. what follows below are the (loose) parameters I am setting for myself for this experiment. i'm using parameters because i'm not setting any official rules. if I mess up, it literally doesn't matter and no one will care. I also don't wait failure to dissuade me from keeping up the effort; say, for instance, in 6 months, I re-download instagram. in my opinion, that would still be a success, because I still stayed off instagram for 6 months. I don't want to put arbitrary rules on myself. this is a lifestyle change. adjustments can be made. and again (this cannot be overstated), literally no one but me cares. thus, starting today, these are the only 'social' things I will still use, as I don't have an unhealthy reliance on them:

spotify, cause I like sharing playlists with friends, and I use it for podcasts.

bandcamp, cause I like following artists.

goodreads. I like sharing what I'm reading and seeing what my friends are reading.

tumblr/reddit/pinterest, as I don't use these websites as social media. (though pinterest is on thin fucking ice cause the bitches on there REALLY want us to all have eating disorders). I am probably going to keep tumblr on my phone, as a treat.

lex, which is like a craigslist for gay people. it's fun and harmless, and I barely check it anyway.

an anonymous instagram account that has no followers, and that I will use to keep up with bands/venues that I like. but this account will only be logged into on my computer and checked for SPECIFIC reasons.

linkedin and facebook, because I will be looking for a full-time job later this year. tragic.

email, unfortunately. see number 8.

when i've told people i'm attempting this experiment, i've been asked the following question a few times: what are you going to do with your free time?

this strikes me as an odd question, and I guess I think it's strange because for most of human history, the internet has not existed. though I suppose that cannot be a reasonable justification for offing the internet because there are plenty of things that we humans used to do that I do not think we should reinstate. (see also: the jungle by upton sinclair). maybe some things have improved as a result of the internet, but i'm not entirely convinced it's a net positive. (it definitely isn't for me.) still, there is a lot of solo free time to be had in adulthood, and it's a valid question, and one I will endeavor to answer:

reading, duh. love audiobooks and my city has great libraries.

I listen to a lot of music, and really enjoy going to shows. they provide a great deal of scope for the imagination. one of my favorite times in the whole world is the time in-between sets at shows. I love to stand in the crowd and watch everyone: couples, friends, other strangers just meeting. if you're a fan of people watching, this (and airport bars) are the true mother loads of people watching. it's a bit too loud in these concert crowds to make out exactly what people are saying, but that's the best part. you have to rely on your storytelling abilities to make sense of the world around you. (sorry to all the people in the seattle area i've stared at unabashedly at shows. it will continue to happen.)

podcasts are what they are. but I like some! my favorites tend to veer towards the theme of history, lolz, and feminism. my favorites right now (that I would recommend to others) are: Who? Weekly, Rehash, Maintenance Phase, You're Wrong About, Not Past It, and It's Been a Minute.

walking, walking, walking.

reading (the sequel): I really enjoy long form journalism. right now, I like The New Inquiry, Long Reads, The New Yorker, Blood Knife, The Baffler, and The Atlantic. I have also been starting to explore the world of Substack, but generally find its formatting extremely dystopian. I can't quite put my finger on it. someone smarter than me please write a thinkpiece about this.

it is honestly weird to be a 27 year old who is trying to live a life off of social media, especially after being someone who's spent so much time online. this is a short life of some things that inspire me to stay offline:

bragging rights. if nothing else, I can feel comforted by a trite sense of superiority.

the luddite community in NYC. literally my idols.

this binchtopia podcast episode.

how good I feel seeing my weekly screen time average go down.

how much I enjoy spending time with my friends, and not looking at my phone once.

reading books and watching movies about people spending time outside and note using technology.

remembering that there are ways to live more slowly, and not always in big, demonstrative, political ways.

Studio Ghibli movies, especially ones like From Up on Poppy Hill and My Neighbor Totoro. they connect me to the idleness of my childhood, especially in the summer, and that I can live without the internet because I already did it for the first 10 years of my life.

'How to Do Nothing' by Jenny Odell

'Trick Mirror' by Jia Tolentino

remembering that after deleting my twitter account in 2021 I have not missed it once.

remembering that I am worth more than just the things I produce.

in conclusion, mostly I am just attempting this to see what it feels like, and to see how I can connect to the world in different ways. I do yearn connection to the larger world around me, but I feel a deep repulsion at the social internet as it exists now. the internet was originally designed to help us build connections to each other and to exercise our free speech rights, and while it does do that, it also means fringe conspiracy groups can gain traction at unparalleled speeds. knowing this, being online stresses me out, on top of all of the zillions of advertisements it forces me to look at (and already discussed above). i've always been a pretty online person. I like staying up to date with the world around me and keeping up with contemporary discourse. but the speed at which news is moving feels unsustainable and frankly dangerous. honestly, the safest thing it feels like I can do, for myself, is step back from it. I want to learn how to form opinions and write them down in a journal, and not espouse them to the world. and, like the singer from my favorite band, "I feel useless behind this computer".

lastly, on a personal note, i've noticed that it's really easy for me to fall into patterns where I am constantly body-checking myself compared to others on social media. I tried to combat this at first by following a bunch of 'body positive' accounts on instagram, and while it was nice to see actual human bodies, it really only compounded the sheer amount of bodies I had to compare my own to.

regardless of how I feel about it, i'm stuck in the body I got. I want to form a healthy opinion and relationship to it without the ever alluring capabilities of the 'gram. no one else gets to live in my flesh prison, ergo, no one else gets a say as to what it looks like. the fact of the whole matter is that the only person who suffers if I don't like the way I look is me, and, advertisers have everything to gain the more unhappy i fare. thus, out of spite, i will fare well.

[antwerpenpreowned]

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If you do not wish to buy a vehicle that is going to trouble you after a week or a month then focus on CPO only.  There is no money back guarantee with CPO vehicles, but the satisfaction of the service is guaranteed. This means you are going to get a vehicle that is in the best condition.  There are different CPO programs available that you can check out with your dealer and then invest in your favorite secondhand car.

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[incoherentbabblings]

What do you think of the lack of mourning and reaction to Stephanie's death that Tim had? Do you think it was out of character and part of the editorial hate train towards Stephanie?

In a word: Yes. Steph's death got mixed up in two that would have more resonance with Tim and his place in the wider DCU. Conner, which was tied into the Teen Titans storyline, and his dad, which was done to create the stronger connection to Bruce. Steph, for all intents and purposes, was a character for Tim and Cass. Cass got more leverage from her death because she was in general so isolated from other DCU books at the time, so the death of a supporting character was given space to breathe. For Tim however, his Teen Titans stuff obviously focused more on the loss of Conner (and Bart) whilst his Batman stuff focused more on his father, because then the writers could pull him tighter to Bruce. Steph was therefore redundant as a narrative tool for Tim's development in his two books. Her death was simply not as important as Jack or Conner's, and I think it's disingenuous to try and argue otherwise.

However, I think there is room to play in-universe with Tim's comparatively non-reaction to the point where I think you can argue that it was perfectly in character. I am crossing into headcanon here, but this is how I try to justify it to myself in-universe.

With Conner and Jack, Tim is loud, screaming, sobbing, clinging to the dead bodies. With Stephanie, he is quiet, withdrawn, and does not get to see her, instead is relayed the information secondhand by Bruce.

He doesn't think of her individually, because then it will hit home and he'll start to properly lose it. He never deals with her death. With Conner you have the proper loopy story of the cult and the cloning and that giant mess. With Jack there's the ongoing storyline of the fake Uncle, being adopted by Bruce and the ongoing grief there.

Tim does not talk about Stephanie. To anyone. He stands at the back of her funeral, not getting close, not speaking to her grave to say goodbye. He refuses to talk to Cass about her. He rarely, if ever, blames her for what went wrong, instead quietly and quite furiously blaming Bruce. He has very tense conversations with both Bruce and Cass about this fact. He thinks of her only when thinking of the people he lost as a group. He can't conceptualize her as an individual; she's just one of many that have died.

I get the feeling, if you wanted, you could argue that Tim completely disassociated himself from Stephanie's death. I say this, because in the TT issue where Tim has to be pried open about his father's death after attempting to shove it down, so it's a similar thing, though obviously not the exact same.

He cannot, will not, think or talk about her, because then it becomes too real, and he feels more emotions than he knows what to do with. He knows Bruce will never initiate that conversation, and fully resents him for it, and never fully trusts Bruce again (if he ever did to begin with). His Titans friends didn't know her, didn't want to know her in some instances, and the tentative conversations with Cass prove that they are not on the same page with the understanding of what happened either. Maybe Tim doesn't trust Cassandra with his grief.

You know what happens when he is forced to think of Stephanie alone and not as one of many, many, loved ones he's lost?

He potentially hallucinates her. So that's not concerning.

You can argue against this but Steph had not returned to civilian life at this point, so she wasn't enrolled in his school (yet). Also his internal monologue refers to the way she walks which is a much more intimate thing than "I saw a blonde girl and Steph was blonde too". Idk, YMMV on that.

Also, the fact that his first response when seeing someone wearing that costume is to get really violent, in a way that Tim just... isn't normally. Like yes it is a triggering scenario anyway but this feels a bit more pointed. Finally the kiss after he sees her for the first time... I don't know. It can read to me as someone who maybe rationally knows Steph is dead, but empirically never acknowledged it. Tim never saw her, and you know what they say about the dead and needing to see the body...

Tim perhaps, in his heart of hearts, never properly comprehended that she was dead. Any attempts to broach the subject were systematically but also unconsciously avoided. She is only mentioned as part of a group. When he is confronted with a reminder of her not being alive he gets very violent. When he sees her alive, he kisses her, as if they had never been apart to begin with for over a year.

Like I genuinely think there was like a mental block with the concept of Steph and Death for Tim that year she was gone. Like error error, cannot run script sort of schtick.

But that's just a headcanon. I don't think the writer's cared enough about her, not enough for any of this to be intentional certainly.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

LO$ER=?, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Life is just a path and you walk it. Until Jeon Jungkook. He made you run, sprinting through winding side roads and alleys, fighting, bleeding, losing. Your paths split, but life is made of orbits. Now that they have overlapped once more, his hand is fiercely holding yours and he won't let go again. Nothing matters if he's with you. Thus, you run once more, laughing like you've gone mad.

continuation of 0X1=?, m | jjk – click here to read

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of sexual assault (not heavily described, however, please note reader is the victim of said assault); actually predominantly fluff; mentions of previous angst; mentions of physical fighting; smut (fem reader, fingering, cowgirl, scratching / marking, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS - tattooed, previously rich!Jungkook x rebellious!reader (mostly reader's POV, a tiny bit of JK's POV), ft cameo of Kim Taehyung as JK’s best friend and crossover with 'bao, t/m | myg' au

yes, I waited until the TXT's 'LO$ER=LO♡ER' was released to write this XD there's a ton of TXT references as well, enjoy!

--

now playing – LO$ER=LO♡ER by txt

"Jeon Jungkook! Yah! Jeon Jungkook! Come out of that whore's home!"

You were about to remove the groceries from your front seat, but then you stopped at the shouting, peering up at the second story of the apartment complex to see… ah, yes, a young woman yelling at your front doorstep. One look at the imported, Western, black car with heavily tinted windows and you were well aware that the woman in a matching designer two-piece – a ruffled pink suit jacket and flared skirt – complete with immaculately pulled back hair in a half-ponytail must be...

She turned around, fuming, pretty features twisted in rage, and screamed in frustration.

You quickly jerked your head back out of her line of sight and clicked your tongue.

Your boyfriend's ex-fiancé had some lungs on her.

You waited until she finished shrieking like a banshee and peered out to see her spin on her heel and return to pounding on your apartment door with her small, manicured fists. You spotted her beige, black cap-toed slender heels.

Chanel.

Huh.

You stayed in your car.

Reached over to your bag and pulled out the single ice cream you bought to share with Jungkook but, at this rate, you would have to buy another. You pulled off the cap and folded it in half, curving it like a spoon, and began to eat the mango sorbet. Hm, well, it was better this way. Jungkook would probably prefer chocolate or straight up diabetes over mango sorbet.

He would eat pretty much anything though.

You scooped up some of the frigid, melting sweet into your mouth and watched his ex-fiancé shout at no one.

True, you could go up there and throw her down the stairs. But there was something hilarious about this, her beating and howling at your apartment door, completely ignoring the fact that no one was answering it and that she was very clearly causing a public disturbance, all because of her own personal problem.

You glanced up to watch her slide down the door, openly crying now. You pressed the button of your car window to roll it down a crack to listen to her sobbing above you.

"–can't believe you would do this to me... you know I need this marriage... my family's company depends on it..."

You slowed, licking off your makeshift spoon.

"I'll be left with nothing... nothing unless I get married..."

Crocodile tears or not, the woes of the rich did not earn much sympathy with you.

You rolled your window back up, leaving your car on idle for the air conditioning.

It was a mix of previously being constantly berated by Jungkook's wealthy parents that now exiled him over a fucking eyebrow piercing and being a member of the working, lower middle class. For some reason, that latter fact was also offensive to Jungkook’s parents. Everyone was accepting until money got involved. You hummed, eating another scoop. You didn’t like it, but you understood that his parents wouldn’t believe that you have no interest in their money. What you didn't understand was why his ex-fiancé was so hellbent on yelling at your door. From what you could tell, she wasn't ugly. Couldn't she find someone else?

You scraped the last of your small ice cream out and ate it up.

You checked your phone.

Jungkook wouldn't be out of work for at least another three hours. You had found him a job at the local bao shop through your own job as an accountant. You assisted the family in sorting the finances for their small business and personal tax forms. The owner had back surgery and so the daughter had been working there by herself with one other employee that delivered the orders. They wanted to hire another to help with cooking and cleaning, perhaps even open up the front counter again to accept pick-up orders instead of only delivery. However, it was hard to find someone trustworthy and reliable. The best way was through word of mouth.

They won't mind my tattoos?

Whenever I drop by, the delivery guy is wearing a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and has a resting bitch face. You'll be fine. Also, I think the daughter and him are dating.

Jungkook had blinked at you.

You know. In case they disappear for ten minutes, unexplained.

You loved Jungkook's laugh.

He didn't complain or whine for some other job. He only asked when he started and how to get there. You bought him a secondhand bicycle and he was off to work, five to six days a week. Sometimes you would drop him off with your car if was too rainy. Occasionally, when he had to stay late for a large order, the delivery guy would drive Jungkook and his bike back home.

That's how it was here, in the world of everyone else, minus the rich.

The fuck is all this?

Manager gave me a bunch of leftovers. She said I'm a fast learner. Did you know Taehyung stops by there? He's never said shit! He said it was his little secret, that ass–

You smiled as you remembered Jungkook's animated face and annoyance at his best friend for not sharing what he thought was crucial information. Jungkook would speak excitedly, hauling a bag of buns and spilling them over your clean kitchen counter, scrambling to catch them as he explained the different ones to you and how they were made, telling you all the things he was learning and funny stories about customers.

You almost forgot this Jungkook.

It was strange, feeling something after such a long time of feeling nothing, strange to find your time occupied once again by him, when at many times you vowed not to get involved with Jungkook anymore, only for him to show up and make you throw your promises to yourself to the wind, recklessly chasing the anger, wondering, hating, loathing how much you still loved him after he left, recalling him standing there, stone silent as his parents' verbal lashes ripped you to shreds.

You turned the car off, pulling the keys out and pocketing them, not wanting to the drain the battery.

Maybe.

Maybe you were stupid for loving him so much.

Maybe you were as pathetic as the woman up there in some ways.

Then again.

Maybe that was just how everyone lived.

You heard a soft tap by your car window.

You jerked your head to see Jeon Jungkook, in the flesh, peering at you through the glass, clutching his bike. You could see half of his head, short black hair and large, curious brown eyes, nose pressed up to the bottom of your car window. He was wearing his work clothes, light wash jeans and an aqua blue t-shirt, lightly dusted in flour. He pointed up and you noticed his ex-fiancé had switched back to yelling at the door, no longer facing the street.

You shooed him back and opened the car door, eyes wide.

"Why are you home?" you whispered, crouching down to speak to him.

He grabbed your hand, gasping as he gripped it. You shivered at the coldness of his fingers, but there was a warmth in between your and his frozen palms, melting each other.

"Oh, shit, your hand is so cold!"

"So is yours!"

"I was biking! My hands get cold from the wind. What's your excuse?"

You held up the empty mango sorbet container in your other hand, shifting your eyes guiltily.

"And you didn't share?!" Jungkook hissed, his windswept hair giving him a fierce appearance, dismay clear in his glistening dark brown orbs despite trying to sound angry.

You spied his other hand on his bike. There was a large, wrapped bandage on his left forearm. You ticked your chin towards it, furrowing your brows. "What happened?"

"Ack, I burned myself and manager-nim told me to go home early. I told her I could still work, but there were only a few hours left and it seemed like she wanted to be alone with Yoongi-hyung..."

You raised your eyebrows.

"What are they gonna do, bonk in the kitchen?"

"You wouldn't want to bonk me in the kitchen?"

You grinned at him and Jungkook grinned back, eyebrow piercing flashing in the sun.

"JEON JUNGKOOK!"

"Oh shit–"

You scrambled out of your car, locking it, slamming the door as the young woman wailed his name and pointed at you and him, furiously wiping her tears.

"You bitch! How dare you take him from me! He was mine! I had him wrapped around my finger!" She hiked up her skirt and swiftly power-walked to the stairs, looking back to yell more at you as Jungkook placed his bicycle down. "He would do anything for me!"

You raised your eyebrows, again.

Jungkook yanked on your t-shirt sleeve, ushering you to get on the bike with him.

"Doesn't seem like it!" you called back casually, chucking your trash at her, causing the empty ice cream container to smack her in the shoulder and roll across the sidewalk.

"You–"

You cackled and got on the bike, hooking your arms around Jungkook's shoulders and adjusting your feet as she stomped up to you two, conventionally attractive features contorted in rage.

"He was my dog!"

Your eye twitched.

"You were gonna marry a freak who was into bestiality? No wonder you left," you remarked, patting him on the chest as Jungkook burst out laughing, loud and rich, shaking his head.

"You can't do this to me, Jungkook! You can't leave me with that other guy!"

You felt it.

Pause.

You felt Jungkook stiffen under your hands and you turned yourself, hearing the helpless plea in her voice now, throwing herself to the ground, designer knees in common dirt, anguish on her face, tears streaming down her made-up cheeks, sniffling hard, and, with your breath lodged in your throat, you realized she was restraining her pained sobs, so trained in maintaining appearances that it seemed like she couldn’t even cry properly in front of others.

"You can't... you know how they are... I can't marry him, you saw what kind of man he is... that's the whole reason I tried to find another husband..."

There was no more anger in her voice, only fear and dread, and you didn't understand, and yet you could for some reason, for some reason you could see it as if it was tangible, the realness in her enigmatic words. Jungkook's hands tightened on the handlebars of the bicycle, his knuckles turning white, tense shoulders under your arms, and for a second, a moment, an instant...

You thought he might go back.

"You should run."

The crying woman on the ground lifted her head, hiccupping, cheeks blotchy pink, still somehow beautiful.

"W-What?"

Jungkook turned his head and looked down at her. "You should run away, like I did. Find someone who actually loves you. Getting married to me will only make both of us miserable, even if it saves you from that other guy."

She looked from you to him, and you recognized that look in her eyes, jealousy and envy, but not directed at you. It was directed at the warmth between the coldness of his hands and yours, directed at the orbits of his and yours finally overlapping, meeting in the vastness of space once more, his zero and your zero becoming one, not you, but his ability to throw everything away, his wealth, his comfort, the world he knew, all for a feeling she had yet to feel.

"What... what if I can't?" she asked weakly. "What if I can't find what you have?"

Jungkook lifted his foot off the asphalt and placed it on the pedal. He raised his head, and you found his eyes on yours for a brief moment before casting them back down to his ex-fiancé.

"Then keep running. It's better than being married to him, right?"

He began to turn the handles, about to pedal away.

She screamed after him, words choked with agony.

"Love won't solve our problems, Jungkook!"

You held on tight, chest to his back, fingers clutching in Jungkook's shirt, nose in his hair, his warmth under your cold hands.

"It won't!" he yelled over his shoulder, gaining speed with a grin. "But it sure as hell makes the problems worth shouldering!"

-

“Hey! Get back here!”

You snickered and chucked the plastic bag into the basket connected to the bicycle, jumping on quickly, pedaling away as Jungkook ran after you at top speed, breathless and laughing, his black hair flying back, aqua shirt molding to his muscular chest, long legs sprinting after you and the bike, your grinning face looking back periodically to catch his smile, going not too fast, but still fast enough so he couldn’t quite catch up. Golden hour brought out the tan on his skin and his high cheekbones, both of you tearing out of the gas station at high speed, drawing stares and shaking heads, but neither of you noticed or cared, his booming voice calling your name and you sticking your tongue out at him childishly.

“Watch out!”

You jerked aside and sped past a group of five young men with skateboards, two with shorter black hair, one with long black hair and white highlights, one with ash gray hair, and one platinum blond, all very tall, but you didn’t have time to stop and stare at the impressive height of them, turning into a side alley towards to the creek nearby, avoiding pedestrians, Jungkook following close behind until you got to your destination, grabbing the plastic bag in the basket and throwing the bike down, cackling as Jungkook snatched you from the air, his heart racing against your back as you kicked the air, him still somehow effortlessly carrying you despite sprinting so hard, panting into your hair.

“Get off!”

But instead of letting you go, Jungkook held on tighter, fierce kisses into your neck, wiping his sweat all over you and making you cringe amidst your laughter. It was already late, the sun dipping into the horizon, slowly taking its warmth with it. Water trickled meekly down the creek, barely coating the rock bottom due to the hot summer.

“Stop, stop, the ice cream is melting,” you finally gasped out, shoving Jungkook aside, wiping your neck with the back of your hand, pretending to be disgusted, but Jungkook just grinned and seized your cheeks, pressing his lips against yours.

“I love you,” he breathed.

“Ack, I love you too, fuck, get off–”

-

You two sat on the swings of the empty playground, watching the sun disappear, eating ice cream with the lids of the containers. As predicted, Jungkook got the chocolate that seemed to have everything in it but the kitchen sink. You, on the other hand, got red bean this time.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

He looked up from his ice cream, shoving a large lidful into his mouth.

It was strange how beautiful he looked, even with his black hair sticking up every which way, his cheeks filled with the frozen sweet, the faint rays of sunlight catching the silver of his jewelry – eyebrow piercing, earrings, silver chain around his neck with the compass star pendant – all paired with his oversized aqua blue t-shirt and baggy jeans, still with bits of flour on his thighs from work.

“What did that man do to her?”

A darkness clouded his features even though he tried to hide it from you with a neutral expression.

“Ah… He just… Just wasn’t really the kind of guy who thought of women as people,” Jungkook finally got out, looking away from you. “You know, the kind of guy you really hate.”

“That’s you,” you joked.

“I know I can’t do anything,” Jungkook continued, ignoring your quip and you suddenly regretted it, seeing the way he lowered his hands, exhaling slowly. “I am not responsible for anyone else’s behavior but my own.”

Come crawling back to me on your knees when she reaffirms to you that I'll be the best fuck you'll ever have.

She'll never make you feel as good as I can make you feel.

Enjoy your piranha.

“I’m sorry.”

Jungkook looked up at your sudden declaration.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, coughing awkwardly. “I’m sorry for saying the things I said about her.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Don’t be. Just because she was in a shit situation doesn’t excuse her for being a shit person.” He shoved the lid into the empty ice cream container and rubbed the back of his neck, pushing his hair back with a sigh. “Just like how it doesn’t excuse me from being a shit person for what I did to you.”

His eyes shifted away.

“You don’t have to–”

“Yeah, I do,” he muttered, cutting you off. “I’m a fucking loser.”

The streetlights began to turn on, but no one was in a place like this, two adults in a place for kids, stuck wondering what adulthood was supposed to feel like because it still felt like an endless cycle of forever learning and forever running, wandering to find out what the finish line meant.

“I wasted time you can’t get back and I will spend the rest of my life chasing the time I wasted.”

Jungkook sucked in a shuddering breath, hand falling from his hair, rueful smile on his face.

“I can only hope you can put up with me for so long.”

You blinked slowly.

He turned his head, brown eyes finding yours, those irises catching the streetlights like how his jewelry had caught the sun, proving that Jeon Jungkook was, indeed, already adorned with nature’s very own jewelry.

You scooped out the last of your red bean ice cream and ate it, looking away from him.

“Sounds like forever,” you remarked, feeling the chilled sweet cool your heated cheeks, swallowing slowly, savoring the way the cold warmed you in its own way.

“Hm?”

“Sounds like I’m stuck with you forever then,” you said, turning back to him with a smirk. “Kinda sucks.”

He smirked back, cocking an eyebrow. “Yeah. Major suck. Speaking of my dick–”

“Oh, shut up.”

But you said it with a smile and he knew you didn’t mean it.

-

“Why the fuck do you have that?”

“It’s from work. Gimmie your arm.”

“Why?”

You extended your arm, frowning, stopping under the streetlight, one hand on the bike as Jungkook held the black permanent marker with his right hand. He used two fingers to uncap it and tucked the lid neatly into his palm, spinning the marker with the adjacent two fingers to readjust it so that he could write on your arm.

“Do you wanna get a tattoo with me?”

“Of what?”

You looked down to him scribbling on your skin, his own black tattoos standing out, covering his entire right arm and up to his shoulder. You wondered if he would end up tattooing his back and maybe his other arm – but, then again, he kind of needed money to have pay for such large pieces.

“Couples tattoo.”

You looked down when he drew back, grinning, reading the word upside down.

LO♡ER

You raised an eyebrow.

“You want to get ‘lover’ tattooed?” you asked, skeptical, turning your arm this way and that, unsure if you liked the placement on your forearm, near your wrist. “You don’t have any space on your right arm anyway.”

“That’s why I would get it on my left.”

And he curved his wrist to write on the bandage on his left forearm, messily writing on top of it.

LO$ER

Now you raised both eyebrows.

“You want to get… ‘loser’ tattooed onto your body?” you snorted disbelievingly.

Jungkook grinned, recapping the black marker with one hand, tapping the dollar sign on the bandage with the marker lid. “Doesn’t it describe me? ‘Cause I had money, and now I don’t.” He pointed to the heart on your skin. “You love me. I love you. A lover with a dollar sign is a loser, right?”

Laughter and skateboards sped past, five blurs of black along the street, spinning around the parked cars, people yelling after them to stop being so reckless, but you were too busy staring at Jungkook to notice the ruckus, too busy staring at that smile and those brown orbs lit up by streetlights.

“Are you stupid?”

Jungkook’s grin widened, mole underneath clearly visible. “Yeah, kind of. Stupidly in love with you.”

You both instantly pretended to gag, trying to mask your smiles, you shoving him and him shoving back, playful and laughing like mad, falling into him, dropping the bike with a loud clang, swept up in his arms and his kiss, your hands hooking behind his neck, love you, love you, love you, not sure about this whole tattoo idea, but, hell, maybe, just maybe if he annoyed you enough about it.

-

Shit, the groceries...

Are they still good?

The green onions look kind of wilted, but so do you and you're still good... I think.

Shut up.

You didn't need him, but being without him was like being frozen in time.

Not that you had any big dreams or aspirations anyone could be envious about. It always been like that, casually cruising through life, existing for the sake of existing, no real reason needed. It just was, and there was no reason to stop, so you kept going. The path was there, so you kept walking.

But, then.

Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook made you run.

It's not washing off.

Tragic.

Easy for you to say, you wrote yours on your bandage, 'loser'.

So terrible that you have 'lover' written in you by your lover - hey, pfft, stop! Put the showerhead down!

It was truly by chance to meet him, a moment of terror and then he was there, yelling, get off her, don't fucking touch her, and you didn't understand, didn't understand why some random guy would suddenly intervene between an interaction of two strangers, how could he sense your discomfort and fear, and now he was throwing fists, brawling with not one but three guys, friends of the one who slipped his phone and his hands under your skirt, the stranger smashing the phone with venomous rage, fighting in a dress shirt, slacks, leather loafers, and expensive-looking rings, giving you a chance to escape.

A winner at life.

Not like you, you who let something happen because you froze up in that second, disbelieving that such a thing could happen to you, a nobody, a loser.

He kicked one of them in the knee, growling, a howl followed by the sharp crack during the fight.

You could turn and escape.

Or?

You heard sirens.

You grabbed your protector's flying fist and clenched into it tightly, panicking.

Run!

This was before the tattoos.

This was before the pain.

This was before the piercing.

Jeon Jungkook had whipped his head around at the foreign touch, in this mess because he had witnessed something disgusting and because he simply wanted to fight, just wanted to beat someone up, wanted to cause real pain to someone because he couldn't control his own life, wanted to fight something.

Needed to fight.

A hand around his hand.

Run!

Never once had Jungkook thought about escape.

Not until he saw that face, fear and panic and rage and determination, stunningly beautiful, hand around his hand, not letting go, pulling, sirens screaming in the distance, his legs already moving, following, running, running, running, into the sea of the unknown.

Sinking into it.

Lungs screaming, clumsily flying through alleys, on wings of adrenaline, running after the girl in the white hoodie and red plaid skirt holding his hand, falling, falling, falling, skidding across the concrete, her arms around his, her head buried into his chest, his hands around her head to protect it, hitting a dumpster with a pained wheeze.

The sirens sped past.

He was holding her and she was holding him.

It was chance.

Just chance.

His hands were scraped up, bleeding from the trip and tumble, her white hoodie dirtied and ripped from the fall, scrapes on her legs and knees.

I'm sorry...

It was ridiculous chance.

Just ridiculous.

You clung to this stranger and laughed, laughed like a maniac, laughed like you had gone mad, crying into his dirty navy dress shirt, thank you, thank you, thank you, not knowing you were holding the one who would make you run, not knowing who or how affluent he was, now knowing of how it felt to hold his hand and kiss his lips and hear his laugh, not knowing how you would introduce him to a friend who was a tattoo artist and start his interest in them, not knowing you would sit by him for long hours and watch the art grow on his skin...

Holding him, crying, thank you, thank you, thank you for saving me, leaning against a dumpster as the stranger hugged you tightly, I got you, it's okay, don't cry, don't cry, don’t cry please, rubbing your back.

Not knowing.

Not knowing he would make you zero, not knowing you would be standing there, time and time again, verbally beaten by his own parents as he looked away, unable to fight.

And you would escape.

You would run.

He would come back.

An endless cycle until you broke it.

Then he started the endless cycle again, broken as it was, his whispers to your cheeks, I love you, cheeks that were dried of tears because you were cried out and left with a mechanical heart, I love you, heart to heartless because of wasted time, I love you, time wasted but you still loved him, no matter what you did.

Did that make you pathetic?

Did that make you stupid?

Did that make you the loser?

I love you.

Why did it matter?

Even winners die.

I love you too, Jungkook.

"Get your hands off my tits."

"Why?"

You glared at him. Jungkook grinned and spun you around, hair still a little damp, kisses on your face that made you cringe as your naked bodies tumbled on the bed, him doing it on purpose, your grumble against his kisses, should have known, his smirk against your scowl, thought you knew me well by now, capturing his lips to shut him up, sinking into his arms and the ocean that was Jeon Jungkook, the one who made you want to run through the maze of life instead of aimlessly walk down the path.

His hands on your face, staring into your eyes.

You looked back, into those eyes that once had everything, but you.

And yet, he chose to lose it all and have nothing, but you.

It didn't really make sense, being in love.

You searched for regret, but there was none to be found.

"Am I forever your waste of time?" Jungkook whispered, breath drifting over your lips.

You smirked.

"Always was and always will be."

I know you said I was a waste of time. But I was your waste of time and that was all I ever wanted to be.

"Let me at least..."

"Ah, f-fuck, Jungkook!"

Your hands faltered a little, rolling the condom down while biting your lip, gasping as his two fingers plunged into you, him moaning at the wetness, thrusting slowly and deeply.

"What, you think I can't feel good with only your dick?"

"No," Jungkook snickered, pulling his slick fingers out of your pussy and bringing them to his face, cocking an eyebrow. "Just want a taste."

You rolled your eyes as he shoved his fingers into his mouth, sucking them off, eyelids fluttering.

"You're so annoying."

He grinned around his fingers, slowly pulling them out and tracing his wet lips.

You narrowed your eyes.

You don't have to take me back. I understand now, you know... I get it. Everyone... everyone will tell you you're crazy and to not to take me back.

I'm not taking you anywhere.

I... I wouldn't blame you. I promise.

Jungkook, please, shut the fuck up.

Your hands on his chest, smacking your hips down, his head thrown back on the pillows, breathless moan at your tightness, matching his sound with your own, stretching yourself out and feeling him swell even more at the pulse of your walls wrapped around him, rolling your hips into his, wet, intense smacks, his right hand flying up and wrapping around your left wrist, watching you through his lashes with effort, losing himself in your pace, no need to ask because you could see it in his face, his open mouth and glazed over eyes, fingers slipping down, curling your nails into his skin.

“P… Please…”

Raking your nails down his chest, his back arching and eyes closing, groaning in pleasure and pain, fucking him into your mattress so hard that the bedframe squealed, setting your jaw and closing your eyes too, savoring his fullness and thickness, sinking into the ocean of pleasure that was Jeon Jungkook, the one who made you feel like no one else, the one who could make and unmake your mechanical heart, funny how that worked, your nails in his skin creating crescents of lust, your eyes snapping open as you felt his chest rise, his back arching, his hands flat on the bed and thrusting his hips up into you, one eye partly open, black hair pushed back, open-mouthed smirk on his lips.

That dark brown orb partly obscured by his lashes, but revealing all to you.

You ticked your chin at him.

“Look at me.”

His eyes fully opening, pupils dilated, hazed over with lust and stubborn love.

“Nothing is more important to me than loving you,” he panted before sinking his teeth into his lower lip, mole underneath flashing, smacking his hips up into yours hard and fast, and it took no time at all, staring at his face and the way the moonlight cradled his strong jaw and toned muscle, catching the low light and bringing out the fervor in his gaze, filling you just right, pleasure blossoming from your core and yet concentrated tightly at the same time, moan of his name falling from your lips, spilling out from your lips and in between your legs, covering him with the sweet scent and harsh squeezes of orgasm, even wetter now, his eyes rolling back, cock twitching, satisfied hiss of your name spilling out with spurts of cum filling the condom, his length shivering inside you, your thighs closing in and holding him in the air so you could feel it all.

His pleasure and him.

I won’t make it to heaven. I don’t belong there.

It’s not like I belong there either, Jungkook.

Are you sure? Only an angel would take me back.

I didn’t take you back. Only your body walked away. Your heart never left me, did it?

“You sure you don’t want to get a couples tattoo with me?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around how your dumb ass wants to get ‘loser’ tattooed and how you think that’s romantic.”

He pressed his right forearm against your left and grinned, watching you suck in a breath as he pushed into you again, other condom already in the trash, new one on, your right leg against his chest, sandwiched between your bodies.

“But yeah, if you want, I’ll get a ‘lover’ tattoo.”

He paused, blinking rapidly. “Really?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Why not?”

“You never wanted a tattoo before.”

Now you raised both eyebrows. “Did you ever ask me before?”

Jungkook looked down at you, hair a mess, smile blossoming on his face, somewhere between giddiness and mania, diving down and showering you with kisses, you smacking his arms and telling him, you’re bending me in half, the fuck are you doing, and he laughed, lifting both your legs now, I’ll show you bent in half, placing them between his arms, leaning down, sinking in as deep as possible, your moan and his moan mixing together.

You’re still here.

Of course, I am, this is my fucking apartment. Ugh, your black eye looks even uglier than before.

You don’t… you don’t want me to leave?

Did I say that? Uh… why are you crying?

F… Forget I said a-anything…

Hey, stop. Don’t cry. Don’t cry, Jungkook, please…

“Fuck, you feel so good, fuck…!”

Your hands in his hair, teasing grin on your face, and he was looking down at you, I love your smug smile, fuck, your fingers combing through his hair, pushing it back and away from his face, letting him see your smug smile without any obstructions, you always fuck me so well, Jungkook, the smile breaking out over his handsome features, breathing erratic and labored, hard and rough and deep, you rising your hips to meet him for every loud smack, exhales and moans blending together, tight, wet, full, your grip on his hair tightening, closer, closer, racing to the edge of the cliff and the edge of the world, Jungkook in your hands, taking him with you, or was he the one who was leading you?

“Jungkook…”

Breathless as if you were running, winded from the pleasure, tightening around him, his head lowering, your name washing over your cheeks in a hot gasp, putting more weight on you, nearly folded in half but it felt better this way, gratifying in how hard he could fuck you in this position, staring into those dark brown orbs, his body on yours, knowing he was yours, always was, always will be, and you were his, always was, always will be.

Head pressing into the pillows, moaning his name again, loud and unashamed, the overwhelming feeling taking over, muscles tense and nerves on fire, pouring it all into the pleasure, pulsing around his jerking length, his moan of your name on your skin, shooting shivering strings of cum into the condom, massaged and milked by the strength of your orgasm, locking him in your embrace and his arms closing in, lips on lips, a fierce kiss dominated by shuddering aftershocks, trembling in each other’s hold and taking the other’s breath away, blazing hot all over even though this frozen world cared about no one.

The kiss lasted a long, long time.

It fell apart slowly, leaving you both lightheaded from the intensity.

“You’re a waste of time, Jungkook,” you whispered, heated. “But you’re my time.”

The side of his lips quirked upward, sweaty, panting, chuckling.

“That’s all I ever wanted to be.”

--

masterpost

[springcatalyst]

hiiiii 10, 13, & 17 for milo and 50, 54, & 56 for reiji uwu?

omg helloooooooo *kisses u on both cheeks like a frenchman*

10: What fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?

This one is so cute uhmmmm. The one that comes to mind is almost like, secondhand but so he had this friend that knew all about astronomy: the stars, planets, the constellations, anything in between. They would go out stargazing and she would just. Ramble about them, she'd tell him the forms of them, the ways they know these things, what time of year you can see what constellations, how to tell which ones were planets, etc. And he'd tell her the stories attached to those constellations, ones passed through generations, ones he'd told a hundred times before and one's he'd only heard. I could leave it there and it'd be nice but that just means that after he leaves his home and as a result, leaves her behind, that knowledge of the cosmos is a thin connection to her once he can no longer see her, and so he shares that information, what he remembers, with others when given the chance.

13: When do they fake a smile? How often?

How did u know. How did you know that this is THE Milo question. Particularly early era, meaning (with some buffer room) before he leaves his home, the answer is All The Fucking Time. A lot hinges on his not allowing anyone to notice that anything is Going On, because fauns don't tend to just leave-it-alone-it'll-work-itself-out things like other species (particularly humans and satyrs) might. But also because Milo has a lot of people who care a lot about him, and they have good intentions, and so would WANT to help him, to know what's going on and try to fix it. The thing about that is, that knowing Anything is up means looking for the reason, and the reason is the thing he's REALLY hiding. So it presents itself as Milo working incredibly hard to be Totally Normal And Good, and fauns are perceptive, which means it has to be infallible. Milo fakes a smile any time Milo-with-nothing-wrong would give one, which is a lot.

17: What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

You're really good at picking these bitches. Milo doesn't have any like... self-image issues like a 'looking in the mirror' question would imply. Everything that's up with Milo is completely internal, which means everything he Sees is just perception. He sees something Wrong, which in a similar vein to the previous question, is dangerous for him to allow out. He sees exhaustion in a way that sleep can't fix. He sees someone who is clearly hiding something, even as he does everything in his power to ensure nobody else does. I can go a little more literal and a little less pretentious and say, after a certain point, he sees a scar across his throat: a physical indicator of something he can't hide. He later covers it with another tattoo, because it draws eyes or questions.

Other people, though, they don't see any of that. Even the scar(s), if they notice it, most know that it's none of their business, and won't ask. Other people notice his tattoos, the jewelry in his hair. Family and friends notice earrings. Non-fauns in particular note the length of his hair, maybe his horns. He usually signs: that's something, too, that people notice.

OK REIJI TIME. GOING INSANE

50: What belief / moral / personality trait do they stand by that you personally don’t agree with?

OH OK. So. This is a lil off topic but I'm gonna say it counts. So Reiji's got this whole thing that has to do with violence. He is so. Set in his black-and-white perspective that it's this or that, one or the other. That it’s always a nasty, dreadful thing and it makes you a monster. Dangerous. He's seen it, and there's no coming out the other side. And I enjoy torturing characters but more importantly the way he lives demands that he know violence, that he’s a part of it. And that affects him.  He wasn't sure about his place in the world to begin with but now? There's blood on his hands and it seeps right through his skin to mix with his own. There's no getting rid of it. It’s kill or die and he'll do anything to avoid the latter but now he is tarnished by it.

This only counts for this question cause i mean, sometimes violence is the answer <3. Anyway Reiji is so incredibly fucked i love him.

54: What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?

Ok you know more than you're letting on HOW are you choosing all of these so perfectly. Flight (pun not intended). Reiji will run from anything ever he's like 'a situation I'm unsure about? I'm outta here.' It was something he was taught from a young age and it's kept him safe up until now so why change? You can always return to a place you've run from, but if you don't run from something that you should've, you're done. The only caveat is that sometimes circumstance plants him in a situation that he CAN'T just flee from, and that means he has to fight. Fawn won't get him anywhere and freezing means he's deader faster. And he is Not bad at fighting, but he hates it. He hates it because he's good at it. He hates it because it says 'this is what you're meant for, built for' and he doesn't want to listen. He will run when he can but whether he is physically trapped or there is someone he can't leave behind, he has no choice but stand his ground and hope for the best, hope whoever's the focus of this fight or flight will eventually flee themselves, because he cannot kill them, but he won't let them kill him either.

56: If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?

OUHGUHGUH. OK. I mean the answers I'm going to give are definitely true for a reason but also his choices are incredibly limited. Reiji just... does not have a lot of people in his life.

Early era, his mother. She is a guardian, a constant, safety and strength, certainty and calm. Everything she is is for him. This is true for many in his flock, though, by nature of the fact that he is young (even as an adult, he is young to most of them, when it mattered). He goes to his mother because she was never far behind, even as any of his flock would have occupied that same role for him, she was his choice. She was comforting in the way a switchblade in your pocket is comforting, in the way a deadbolt on your bedroom door is. But then their paths diverge and he can't find her, and that knife is gone, the lock broken. For a while it's nobody. And then a fellow traveler seems harmless enough so they stick together, both of them alone. And it's true that he has few other options but he soon trusts this person, loves them, in varying definitions of the word, and so they become that comfort. It's different, though, without that same defense, without the protection of it, but it isn't less, or worse. Just different.

Reiji has most of his experience with fear being something external and tangible, something dangerous, a corporeal threat. But when it isn't, that's when that answer changes. When he's afraid of what he might be, what he's capable of, what he's done, he doesn't seek safety or calm. He sits with it, ruminates in it, he doesn't share or tell because the fear is of the thing itself, and even if someone were to try to convince him otherwise, it wouldn't work, because he knows it and they just don't see it. He keeps himself from that comfort, then.