#i still have the same problems. but at least they are cheaper problems now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ms-demeanor · 9 months ago

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On insurance: I still live with my parents and don't know a lot yet about the sorts of things adults usually have to spend money on. I've always been skeptical of things like insurance and credit cards because it seems to me they wouldn't be selling that if they didn't expect to make money from it. I talked to my cousin a while ago about credit cards and basically came to the conclusion that they do that because they're betting on the customer getting sloppy and letting their debts stack up, and the way you beat that and get money from credit card companies is just by being careful.

I'm a little more confused about insurance though because it seems much more straightforwardly like a gamble they will simply not take if it won't pay off for them. Like, you don't go to a casino because every game they play at a casino is one they've done the math on and have determined that statistically most people will lose money on most of the time. Is insurance not kinda the same? Where they estimate the risk and then charge you an amount calculated to make sure it probably won't be worth it for you?

I know if you have a car you legally need car insurance so everyone knows you can pay for another car if you crash into someone, and I gather that here in the US at least health insurance companies have some kinda deal with hospitals so that the prices go down or something, and there's a reason I don't fully understand why not having health insurance is Really Bad. But we get to pet insurance, or like when I buy a concert ticket and it offers ticket insurance in case I can't make it to the show, and surely if they thought they were gonna lose money on that they just wouldn't sell it, right? Or they'd raise the price of it until it became worth the risk that something bad actually will happen? Wouldn't it only be worth it to buy insurance if you know something the insurance company doesn't?

So the deal is that most people don't use their insurance much, and often insurance companies will incentivize doing things that will make you use your insurance less.

So, for example, you can get a discount on car insurance if you have multiple cars because people who insure multiple cars are more likely to be responsible drivers (the ability to pay for multiple cars stands in as a representation of responsibility here). The longer you go without an accident, the lower your premiums get because that means that you are not costing your insurance company anything but you are paying into the system. The car insurance company's goal is to have the most responsible, safest drivers who never get into car accidents because they can predict (roughly) how much they're going to have to pay out to their customers and they want the number they pay out to be lower than what's paid in. So they try to discourage irresponsible drivers by raising their rates and encourage responsible drivers by giving them discounts.

Health insurance companies often do the same thing: I recently got a gift card from my health insurance company because I had a visit from a nurse who interviewed me about my overall health and made sure I had stable blood pressure and access to medications. It is literally cheaper for my insurance company to give me a $100 giftcard and hire a nurse to visit me than it is for me to go to my doctor's office a couple of times, so they try to make sure that their customers are getting preventative care and are seeing inexpensive medical professionals regularly so that they don't have to suddenly see very expensive professionals after a long time without care.

Insurance in the US has many, many, many problems and should be replaced with socialized healthcare for a huge number of reasons but right now, because it is an insurance-based system, you need to have insurance.

We're going to use Large Bastard as an example.

Large Bastard had insurance when he had his heart attack and when he needed multiple organs transplanted. He didn't *want* to be paying for insurance, because he thought he was healthy enough to get by, but I insisted. His premium is four hundred dollars a month, and his out of pocket maximum is eight thousand dollars a year. That means that every year, he pays about $5000 whether he uses his insurance or not, and if he DOES need to use the insurance, he pays the first $8k worth of care, so every year his insurance has the possibility of costing him thirteen thousand dollars.

The bill for his bypass surgery was a quarter million dollars.

The bill for his transplant was over one and a half million dollars.

His medication each month is around six hundred dollars. He needs to have multiple biopsies - which are surgeries - each year, and each one costs about twenty thousand dollars.

Without health insurance, he would very likely be dead, or we would be *even more* incapable of paying for his healthcare than we are right now. He almost ditched his insurance because he was a healthy-seeming 40-year-old and he didn't think he'd get sick. And then he proceeded to be the sickest human being I've ever known personally who did not actually die.

Health insurance costs a lot of money. It costs less money for people who are young and who are expected to be healthy. But the thing is, everybody pays into health insurance, and very, very few people end up using as much money for their medical expenses as Large Bastard did. There are a few thousand transplants in the US ever year, but there are hundreds of millions of people paying for insurance.

This ends up balancing out (sort of) so that people who pay for insurance get a much lower cost on care if they need it, hospitals get paid for the care they provide, and the insurance company makes enough money to continue to exist. Part of the reason that people don't like this scheme is because "insurance company" could feasibly be replaced by "government" and it would cost less and provide a better standard of care, but again, with things as they are now, you need to have insurance. Insurance companies are large entities that are able to negotiate down costs with the providers they work with, you are not. If you get hit by a car you may be able to get your medical bills significantly reduced through a number of means, but you're very unlikely to get your bills lower than the cost of insurance and a copay.

Because of the Affordable Care Act, which is flawed but which did a LOT of good, medical insurance companies cannot refuse to treat you because of preexisting conditions and also cannot jack up your premiums to intolerable rates - since Large Bastard got sick, he has had the standard price increases you'd expect from aging, but nothing like the gouging you might expect from an insurance company deciding you're not worth it.

Pet insurance works on the same model. Millions of people pay for the insurance, thousands of people end up needing it, a few hundred end up needing a LOT of it, and the insurance companies are able to make more money than they hand out, so they continue to exist. This is part of why it's less expensive to get pet insurance for younger animals - people who sign up puppies and kittens are likely to be paying for a very long time and are likely to provide a lot of preventative care for their animals, so they're a good bet for the insurer. Animals signed up when they are older are more likely to have health problems (and pet insurance CAN turn animals away for preexisting conditions) and are going to cost the insurance companies more, so they cost more to enroll (and animals over a certain age or with certain conditions may be denied entirely).

This weighing risk/reward is called actuarial science, and the insurance industry is built on it.

But yeah it's kind of betting. The insurance company says "I'll insure ten thousand dogs and I'm going to bet that only a hundred of them will need surgery at some point in the next year" and if they're correct, they make money and the dogs who need surgery get their surgery paid for out of the premiums from the nine thousand nine hundred dogs who didn't need surgery.

Your assessment of credit is correct: credit card companies expect that you will end up carrying a balance, and that balance will accrue interest, and the interest is how they make the money.

And it is EASY to fuck up financially as an adult. REALLY EASY. But you are still likely to need a good credit score so you will need a credit history. That means that the correct way to use a credit card is to have a card, but not carry a balance.

To do this, never buy anything on the card that you can't afford. In order to avoid needing the card for emergencies, start an emergency fund that is at least 3 months of your total pay *before* you get a credit card. That seems like a *lot* of savings to have, but from the perspective of someone who has had plenty of mess-ups, it's a lot easier to build up a $10k emergency fund than it is to pay off a $10k credit card debt.

If you don't understand how interest works on credit cards, or why a 10k savings is different than a 10k debt, here are some examples working with $10k of debt, 23% interest (an average-ish rate for people with average credit), and various payments.

With that debt and that interest, here's how much it costs and how long it would take to pay off with $200 as the monthly payment:

Fourteen years, and it would cost you about twenty four thousand dollars in interest, for a total amount paid of about thirty four thousand dollars.

To save $10k at $200 a month would take four years and two months.

Here's the same debt at $300 a month:

4.5 Years and it costs about six grand (again, just in interest - sixteen thousand dollars total). Saving ten thousand dollars at three hundred dollars a month would take just under three years.

Here's the same debt at $400 a month:

3 years, about $4000 dollars (fourteen thousand dollars total). Saving ten thousand dollars at $400 a month takes just over two years.

The thing is, with all of these models you're going to end up paying one way or another. Insurance vs out of pocket is you weighing the risk of losing a fair amount of money by signing up but not using the system, or potentially losing a catastrophic amount of money by not signing up.

For credit cards they really only work if you know you're never going to need them for an emergency, because an emergency is what you're not going to be able to pay off right away. I didn't have an emergency fund when Large Bastard had his heart attack and needed surgery, or when we moved between states suddenly, or when we moved between states suddenly AGAIN and needed to pay storage costs, or when Large Bastard needed a transplant, or when Tiny Bastard got in a fight with my MiL's dog, and the fact that I didn't have an emergency fund is still costing me a lot of money.

So, young folks out there: what's the takeaway?

Get insurance. Get the best deal possible, which usually ends up being the one you sign up for early. You may think you can let it ride without insurance, but man in the six months between when I graduate college (and lost my school insurance) and when care kicked in after 90 days at my job I got electrocuted and needed to go to the ER. If that hadn't been a worker's comp payout I would have had thousands of dollars in bills. Something could happen. You could break your leg, you could get hit by a car, you could suddenly find out that you actually have heart disease at twenty, you could develop cancer. Have insurance, you need insurance. You legally need car insurance in the US, and you financially need health insurance. If you have a pet, I think it's a good idea for them to have pet insurance.

Credit cards are not for emergencies, they are not for fun, they are not for buying things that are just ever so slightly out of your budget, they are for taking advantage of the credit card company and managing to get by in a system that demands you have a credit score. ONLY put purchases on your credit card that you already have cash for. Before you get a credit card, build up an emergency savings so that you aren't tempted to put emergency charges on your card.

If you DO end up with an interest-bearing debt, pay it off as fast as possible because letting it linger costs you a LOT of money in the long run.

Stay the fuck away from tobacco and nicotine products they are fucking terrible for you, they are fucking expensive, and they are not worth it put the vapes down put the zyns down put the cigarettes down I will begin manifesting in your house physically i swear to fuck. Knock that shit off and put the cash that you'd be spending on nicotine into a savings account.

Take care, sorry everything sucks, I promise that in some ways it actually sucks less than it did before and we're working on trying to make it suck even less but it's taking a while.

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teaboot · 1 year ago

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how do you find/buy sex stuff? I'm sure there are websites, but I don't even know where to start. What would be safe and reputable? Do you have any suggestions, or advice on picking something "good"? Also thank you for opening your asks for stuff like this.

okay, so here's the shake:

I personally believe that you can buy decent sex toys anywhere, providing that:

The listing is honest about the product's materials

You know what to look for

Silicone, glass, and metal are the safest materials you can use. They're the least reactive with natural bodily chemicals and are the least likely to give you problems.

SILICONE: Not 'silicon'- silicon is NOT SILICONE. Slicone solids are never 100% transparent and might, MIGHT appear translucent and foggy at the clearest. Silicon might be shiny OR matte, but if it's matte please know that velvet or soft-touch coatings are most often non-silicone materials added after the toy itself is molded. This is usually fine, but if you know your body is sensitive to that, one brand I know has the texture built into the mold is Fun Factory. It's pricy, but it's high quality and comes with a warranty.

NEVER ASSUME AN ITEM IS SILICONE UNLESS THE ITEM IS DESCRIBED AS SILICONE.

GLASS: Tempered glass is usually fine. If you notice chips, cracks, or hairline fractures in it, bag it up and throw it out.

Metal: Same story. Chipping, flaking, cracks, oxidization, toss it. Acrylic toys with metallic coatings will degrade in contact with oils, unlike actual metal, so be sure to check materials.

People shit on sites like Adam & Eve and Pinkcherry, and yeah those are cheap stores that dont sell the best stuff, but they still have LOADS of good quality product and do frequent sales and clearouts if you're nervous and not looking to drop a lot of cash right off.

If you can afford it, brands I absolutely recommend are Womanizer, Fun Factory, Hitachi (now owned by Vibratex), Tom of Finland, Sinvention, and We Vibe. They're all high-quality and most have warranties for damage or malfunction.

On the cheaper end, Calexotics, Doc Johnson, Evolved, and Ouch!.

Websites like Bad Dragon, Extreme Restraints, and Sinvention are known to have good customer service and high-quality products.

Websites like Adam and Eve, Pinkcherry, and Lovehoney I've heard good reviews for, you just need to be careful about what you buy.

I've yet to encounter a legit site that isn't discrete, btw. Everything is usually sent out in boxes.

Please avoid AliExpress. You CAN buy there, but I don't trust that shit

#Body health #Reproductive health

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warcats-cat · 12 days ago

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Confinement

Summary: In Hermes’ incredibly correct and not at all humble opinion, humans should have stuck with horses, but then humans went off and invented cars. Awful... Hermes loved you; he really did. He adored you. But he loathed your car.

A/N: I'M ALIVE I SWEAR!!! I'm still writing for Hermes and this fandom!!! I love you all and I've MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH!!! TLDR - I was in a car accident right after my birthday at the beginning of April, and while I wasn't badly injured, I've been mentally all over the place since then. Recovery-Scatter-Brain and Stress-Scatter-Brain are real... ANYWAY the irony is that I have had this one written for like forever and I was gearing up to post it right before I had my accident. So I guess Hermes was just trying to warn me in his own loving, mysterious, mischievous way. Also I linked to a song within the fic; it is one of my favorites to sing and one I sang as a part of my Senior Recital when I graduated university; if you take the time to listen I really do hope you enjoy it! (ALSO also, because of this, the reader does refer to themself as 'female' but only in the context of the song!) I hope you guys enjoy this one and hopefully I will have another edited/polished and posted for you before the two month mark... as always please let me know if I've missed any tags and have a truly lovely day, darlings!!!

Read on Ao3 Here!

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In Hermes’ incredibly correct and not at all humble opinion, humans should have stuck with horses.

Really, it was the altogether better option, compared to other modes of transportation, although he'd never tell his uncle that. Especially now, in the ‘modern era’ as humans called it, when things like capitalism and pollution and climate change hung over humans’ heads like a guillotine.

Horses didn't need oil from hundreds of cubits underground; they could just graze the grasses around where they were. Horses still went pretty fast over land compared to walking. Horses didn't stink like death-plastic-smoke that was worse than Tartarus.

But humans had gone and invented cars.

Awful.

Sure, cars went fast. Not nearly as fast as him, but Hermes was the god of speed; nothing went as fast as him. Cars could go a lot faster than horses, and in America, where the land was so massive and everything spread out so far, Hermes supposed it was nice to get to the grocer as quickly as possible.

But cars were also considerably small.

Therein lay the problem.

He wasn't necessarily claustrophobic, but Hermes didn't like small spaces. He didn't like feeling trapped. And cars did exactly that - with heavy metal doors that slammed and locked like prison cells, rough, scraping straps that pinned one in place (for safety, of course, which he couldn't begrudge; but he didn't have to like it), uncomfortable seats that pretended to be the ‘luxury’ of real leather even though he could smell the oily plastic layered in to make it cheaper.

And the windows only made things worse somehow - opening them made the winds beat the inside of the car and the unfortunate rider’s ears, easily causing hearing damage with the constant concussion. He’d tried pushing his head out, once; curious at seeing some teens in a car ahead of them do so, but the same beating effect applied; making his eyes sting and his ears ring from the force of it.

He didn't even have that problem when he was flying.

Hermes loved you; he really did. He adored you. But he loathed your car.

“I could get us to the craft store a lot faster,” he said to you, the barest hint of a whine in his voice. If he played it just right, with a little pout and a little whine, maybe he could change your mind.

“You would have to carry me, not to mention anything we bought, and I don't want to lose my supplies in your bag-of-holding.” You replied, not even looking at his big, slightly watery puppy-eyes.

No luck…

He sighed, and let his face drop back to normal. At least he understood the reference you made this time - you’d called his messenger bag a bag-of-holding a few times before he asked about it; it was a bag, it was supposed to hold stuff? But you were referring to a game you liked to play on nights he was away; a special bag that could hold almost anything a person put inside it, and was nearly endless. He’d had to admit after that that it was a fair nickname.

And it wasn't necessarily that things got lost in his bag; he could call up any paper or item that was in it by just thinking about it. It was that he could conveniently forget to grab some things back out. Or slip things in to hide them for later.

He was the god of thieves and master of tricks. Sue him.

He stared down the door handle of your car as if he could make it cower like a mortal he disliked. You slipped easily into the driver's seat and grinned at him; the cute, slightly devilish grin that he loved so much. Damn.

Hermes grumbled a Greek swear and submitted himself to the confinement.

Thankfully, you weren't an overly cautious driver going 10 under the speed limit.

The drive would take approximately 20 minutes; 18 if you pushed the speed limit a little and 16 if you managed to pass through the traffic lights without them turning red. Ugh. Traffic lights.

When horses had to cross a road, they could just go across. You didn't have to worry about being catastrophically slammed into from the side because horses had brains. …most of the time…

Hermes clicked the seatbelt into place. His feathers ruffled as he shuddered, but he felt your hand slip into his and squeeze in sympathy, and that made it a little better. The car rumbled under his feet like an angry animal as it started, and you began the drive, switching on the radio as it connected to the phone in your pocket.

Frankly, there was only one reason Hermes tolerated car rides at all.

“When I was a girl, I had a favorite story...”

Every time, he got to hear you sing.

“Of the meadowlark who lives where the rivers wind…”

In Hermes' very correct and not so humble opinion, you had the most beautiful voice. And he bragged to Apollo about you all the time, how he had found you and won your heart before the sun god even heard a single note. Hermes loved listening to you sing - singing along to movies you watched, singing quietly while you worked on a project, and yes, even singing in the car.

Car singing was the second-best singing, only because you weren't afraid to be loud . Your voice filled the little space with warmth, wrapped around Hermes like a safety blanket. If you had to stop at a traffic light, you liked to wiggle in your seat like a little dance. It felt like a secret, shared only between the two of you; the little moments he tucked away in his memory like shining jewels.

And you sang everything - regardless of the original musician’s gender. Musical Theater tended to be your favorite, but your phone shuffled through rock songs and pop songs and a few electronic melodies; indy and songs about video games and even (very rarely) a country song you said you kept because it was silly. Hamilton, and SpongeBob; Wicked, and Phantom of the Opera. Lately, you’d been fixating a bit on some songs from Next to Normal that made you tear up as you sang, and Hermes would reach over and pat your shoulder or take your hand, knowing that the music meant more to you than he could really understand. Songs full of stories that you knew by heart and told to yourself (and him) over and over again.

It felt extra special, sometimes; knowing that you were comfortable enough to sing with him around. Apollo had asked, several times now, but you had stammered and said you hadn't done any warm-ups and didn't know what he would like; maybe some other time. You’d confided in Hermes after the third time; for anyone else, it felt like a high stakes audition, especially for the ‘literal god of music’ as you had said. But Hermes made you feel comfortable, like you were singing with him, even though most of the time he wasn't actually singing; he joined in subtler ways. His head bobbed and swayed along to your music, and occasionally his wings ruffled and flapped for a particularly high or long or powerful note, and he savored every single second of it.

And then all too soon the show was cut short, as you slowed to a stop in the little store's parking lot, and Hermes became aware once again of the sensation of being trapped.

He all but ripped the seat belt apart - he actually had ripped the seat belt the first time, which you had been very upset about. He hadn't meant to, and thankfully you understood after an explanation (and when he offered to pay to fix the car - a full “work up” as you said. He’d kinda shrugged it off; money was a mortal thing.)

This time, he was out of the car before the belt had the chance to fully retract back into its hiding place, hopping a little from foot to foot to shake the phantom feelings of chains. You gave him a look of apology, and offered a hug, which he graciously accepted.

Finally, after a minute to fix his sunglasses and steal your hand for holding, the pair of you headed inside the craft store.

And if he slipped a few things that you seemed to like into his bag when you put them back down upon seeing the prices, well. That was his own little secret. He just couldn't resist the way your eyes glittered when he gave you presents.

You didn't need to know where they came from…

(If you enjoyed, please reblog!!)

#warcats writes #hermes x reader #hermes epic the musical #epic hermes #reader insert #gender neutral reader #epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #ask to tag #another one i have no idea what to tag #driving #implied claustrophobia #claustrophobia #cars #Hermes' POV

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starshideurfics · 5 months ago

Text

Off the deep end - part two

part one

Wet dreams are super common for both alphas and omegas in the months post-presentation. Omegas usually have it worse even though no one talks about it as much.

But Steve’s pretty sure he’s an outlier.

He only had a few bad nights at camp, but once he’s home it feels like every other night.

And the dreams he can remember are intense—blood and fire, teeth and claws, all turning soft and sweet, dark chocolate eyes and callused fingers. He wakes with soaked pajamas and sheets, his pussy aching to be filled.

He’ll use his fingers, try to find relief, but it’s never enough.

Usually, nights after he’s seen Eddie are less intense for Steve, like he’s sated the animal part of him that cries for its mate. At least a little bit.

A part of him—that same animal part—loves it, that his body knows what it wants and takes it. He wants to roll in his soiled sheets, make his scent as strong as possible, rub his slick into his skin to draw his alpha to him.

But a much bigger part of him is annoyed. His mother insists that he do his own laundry when it comes to this, that he keep his space neat and clean if he still wants to be allowed out of the house.

This has him washing his sheets constantly, defaulting only to his white sheets, the acidity of his slick bleaching the color from anything else.

Which leaves him with two sets that he rotates through, his laundry needs slowing down his mornings and often making him late to meet Eddie.

And when Eddie asks, Steve is honest. It earns him some *very* heavy petting and the closest to dry humping that Steve can feasibly manage. They remain fully clothed that afternoon.

It starts Eddie’s mind turning, searching for a solution, and he happens across it in a slightly racy fantasy novel. He presents it proudly to Steve in the week before school is set to begin again, placing soft, quilted cotton into his hands.

“Eddie, what is this?”

“A bed pad. I guess they make disposable ones now, but I figured a reusable one would be better for you.”

Steve flushes all the way to his ears. Bed pads aren’t talked about much, mostly gifted to newlyweds for use during heats. Which has him thinking about heats. About sharing his heat.

About Eddie sharing his heat.

Steve slicks so much that it overflows his pad, and Eddie’s nostrils flair.

“You got a rubber?” Steve asks, knuckles white as he grips the bed pad, nosing at Eddie’s neck.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes, hands on Steve’s hips, holding him close.

“Good.” Steve drags Eddie to the nearest restroom, they fuck, and he changes his pad before they leave the stall.

💦💦💦

Steve’s first heat after he presents should be tolerable. Nice even. His mother says early heats are easier—less painful—to trick omegas into thinking pregnancy won’t be so bad.

Steve figures no matter how bad pregnancy is, he’d get a baby at the end. A pup of his own, his and Eddie’s.

Which he knows is stupid. He’s not even 16 yet, he doesn’t want a baby right now.

He just wants his boyfriend to knot him through his heat.

And he knows his parents would never let him, not if they can help it. That’s why he’s been making plans, talked with Eddie about saving up for a heat hotel.

Steve has his allowance, even though his father threatens to cut him off every time he catches Steve with Eddie upstairs.

And Eddie has a job, helping out at Thatcher Tire, so one of the cheaper rooms is perfectly within reach.

The only problem is early heats are unpredictable. It can take a few years for an omega to settle into a regular cycle. Some omegas go an entire year after presenting without a heat. Some will have a weak heat barely a month after presenting.

Steve’s doctor had warned him that his situation meant his heat was likely to come in the fall—having a compatible alpha around would help his hormones settle his cycle.

He just didn’t count on it hitting over Thanksgiving break.

His parents are home all week—no business meetings or holiday travel because his mother’s parents expect them on time for dinner on Thursday.

Too bad Steve would miss it.

Steve is tired on Wednesday, not having slept well the night before, so Eddie gives him a ride home from school, and instead of making out in his newly-acquired, but still old van, Steve nuzzles against Eddie’s hair and nearly falls asleep.

Eddie practically carries him to his front door.

Then he goes straight up to bed, falling asleep in his clothes, content to snuffle against the t-shirt he stole from Eddie’s room the last time he was over.

Steve sleeps for 13 hours.

When he wakes, his skin feels too tight, itchy and sticky as he struggles out of his clothes.

His panties cling to him, absolutely drenched with his slick. Only then does he feel the deep ache between his legs, how his blood must all be in his pussy, his labia puffy and sensitive.

A keening whine escapes his throat, crying out for help—for Eddie—but all he gets is his mother.

“I could smell it on you this morning, and I pulled the phone from your room, so don’t even think about calling him,” she says through the door, voice tight. “Without an alpha, you should be through it by tomorrow morning. I’ll bring you leftovers from Nona’s”

“You’re leaving?”

If they leave, he can call Eddie. It’s like she’s forgotten there are other phones in the house.

Steve forces himself to his feet and wobbles over to the door. His stiff fingers close around the knob, but he can’t get it to turn.

It won’t turn. He’s locked in.

“Mom?”

“Steven, you’re staying in your room. Dad is staying home, and I won’t be gone long. Kisses.” He can hear her on the stairs.

Steve tries the knob one last time before sobbing as he sinks to the floor, overwhelmed as he peels off his wet panties, and grinds against his hand, needing relief.

But relief doesn’t come.

His only relief is Eddie. He only wants Eddie. Instead, he pants and cries, aching and horny, fingers going pruney in his pussy, his floor covered in slick by the time his heat breaks 17 hours later.

His mother hires a steam cleaner to get it all out of the carpet.

💦💦💦

Eddie meets Rick at Thatcher. He drives like an idiot, needs things looked at regularly, but he’s easy-going. Friendly.

When he sees Eddie on a smoke break, he asks to bum one. It turns to casual banter, which turns to Rick asking why Eddie’s got this after school job, what with Al’s reputation.

Eddie bristles, but Rick laughs, says he’s impressed that Eddie bother’s with grunt work, that Wayne must be a really good influence, and how much does he make? $3.45 an hour isn’t anything to sneeze at, ‘specially not for Eddie, being so young.

“But you could make 10 times that, working for me.”

Rick ashes his cigarette and quirks his brow, waiting.

“Like hell I could,” Eddie scoffs.

“More even, if you put in the effort.”

And $3.45 an hour is more than minimum wage, more than Eddie expected when he was hired, but he only gets 10 hours a week.

He’s not stupid. He knows what Rick does. Knows what’s being offered. Wayne wants him focused on school, on doing better for himself than any other Munson has managed.

But Eddie already has. He’s got Steve, his scentmate. And he’s gonna take care of him.

Besides, even if Steve doesn’t care much about popularity, he still gets invited to Loch Nora parties. And by extension, so does Eddie. In one night, he could make months worth of his pay at Thatcher.

He could get Steve something real nice with that kind of money, go on a lavish date night with a little sexy something for after…

And he can still work at Thatcher…

He just can’t let Wayne know. Or Steve.

Steve was so proud when he got his job. Not that Steve would care, he and Steve have gotten high together, just once, and he’s been so sweet and floaty in Eddie’s arms. But Steve’s parents, if he knows, and they find out that he knows, they’ll flip.

Eddie drops his spent cigarette on the pavement and grinds it out with the toe of his work boot. “Okay, what do I need to do?”

“Swing by my place this weekend, I’ll get you set up.”

💦💦💦

The first Loch Nora party Eddie deals at is Alex Thompson’s Halloween party.

Steve does shots with the swim team, and again with the cheerleading squad, then grabs a solo cup of jungle juice. Eddie nurses a single Budweiser all night.

So, Steve is loose and distracted, dancing every time someone comes up to Eddie looking for weed or acid. He moves his customer to the corner, exchanges his goods for cash, and threatens each of them with being cut off by every dealer in town if they mention any of this to Steve.

Eddie leaves around midnight a few hundred dollars richer, with a cuddly, sleepy Steve hanging off his shoulder.

The cuddliness lasts until Eddie gets Steve home, the omega promptly puking in the driveway, multicolored liquid splashing on the pavement and over Steve’s shoes. Snots runs from his nose and he coughs, whining, “Eddie, never let me drink again!”

“Oh, Puppy, it’s okay,” Eddie soothes, rubbing his back. “Let’s get you some water and an aspirin.”

By the time he has Steve tucked into his bed, it’s after 1AM. Wayne expects him home, not trusting the shit teens get into on Halloween, wanting him safe. But Steve won’t let go of his hand.

He cries when Eddie stands up, and he’s too worried about Steve dehydrating himself more that he kicks off his jeans and crawls into the bed to spoon up behind him.

“I’m here, Puppy. I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

💦💦💦

Wayne grounds Eddie for a week when he gets home in the morning.

Not that grounding him does much. Eddie still goes to school. He still goes to work. He’s allowed to go to Hellfire because he runs the game and that’s a responsibility. But he isn’t allowed at Steve’s house, or band practice.

And Steve shows up at the trailer after school, and Wayne isn’t trying to punish Steve. (He should be, in all honesty, if he knew how drunk Steve got, just to further drive home how stupid binge drinking is.) Wayne lets Steve come in, telling him he can stay until 8, but Eddie’s grounded, they can’t go anywhere or do anything or even watch tv.

Most importantly, they aren’t allowed to hang out in Eddie’s room.

Steve doesn’t care. He just wants to be with Eddie.

Eddie doesn’t really care either. It’s a pretty light punishment for breaking curfew, all things considered.

The following Friday, Eddie takes Steve on a date to the drive-in.

They see Creepshow, and Steve spends the movie half-hiding against Eddie’s shoulder, his sodden pad crinkling in his panties every time he shifts in his seat. Eddie focuses on the movie—he wanted to see it after all—and has an arm around Steve’s shoulder, hand playing with his tit.

The credits roll, and Steve climbs into Eddie’s lap, licking into his mouth. “Can we go to something with less death next time?”

“Of course, Baby.” Eddie slides his fingers into Steve’s hair, and pulls him into another kiss. “And I got you a little something, as a thank you for going to my horror movies.” Eddie reaches into his pocket, pulls out a box. A jewelry box, long and thin. “I’ve been saving up for a while.” Which is true; it’s just his new revenue stream moved up his timeline on affording it.

Steve opens the box, revealing a simple, gold bracelet, the chain links a bit more robust, a little gold heart near the clasp. “If you want something else, we can exchange it, but I thought I could add to it as we go, tell the story of us…”

Steve plasters their lips together, overcome with desire. He grinds down on Eddie’s lap, waking up his cock. “It’s perfect.”

Eddie carefully clasps the charm bracelet around Steve’s wrist, and kisses him tenderly.

Steve crawls out of his lap, whispers, “Take me home.”

He and Eddie fuck in his bed, then again in the shower, falling asleep with their hands clasped together over Steve’s heart.

💦💦💦

part three

#steddie #omegaverse #fanfiction #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #stranger things fic #high school sweethearts #scentmates

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monkebearness · 4 months ago

Text

More Than a Chance Encounter

Ji Suhyeon (tripleS JiYeon) x Male Reader

Tags: fluff, angst, romance

Word count: 9.2k

a/n: no smut yet, the first one really took a while to finish XD. however, a new one is in the works. for now, I hope you like this, if you are into this genre, at least.

The holiday season in one of the biggest malls in Seoul has made it crowded, as the year comes to a close in a couple of months. It still isn't as urgent and traditional like they do in America, but it's still a lot for Korea’s standards. Despite labels and posters of cheaper prices being stacked on a plethora of products, most of the supermarket is filled with the loud hum of the air conditioner as well as the movements of automaton couriers rushing in and out of the place. Nowadays, most people tend to visit to get some not so fresh nor natural, but nevertheless refreshing wind and spend time with their loved ones through various forms of recreation, entertainment, and the last reason: purchasing necessities for their families and friends. Necessities that are also known as gifts and groceries.

“How do I even use this..?” he whispers to himself, pressing all the buttons he can on the screen of the kiosk, only to end up in the same error popping up with an irritating sound that irritates even the folks behind him.

Self-checkouts at supermarkets are no longer the future because now, they’re the norm, here in the present. And yet a lot of customers are still stuck to the past, but reasonably so. Certain machines are not as simple as one would think, since these models are still new to the public, some of whom aren’t tech-savvy. This man in a suit just happens to fall into this case of generational dilemma. It’s a miracle he doesn’t even freak out yet.

“Ahjussi!” a voice roars from the end of the line. “We don’t have all night. Hurry up.”

But some would still take the advantage to shop in person during the holidays since, in most cases, it’s simply faster for people who visit after school or work. And as more and more users shop online, face-to-face customers take the advantage to buy in person just the same, especially when the couriers are taking a little longer than they want.

“Look, I’m trying to figure this thing out,” he mumbles as loud as he can. The longer he’s standing there with no solutions, the more he can feel the moisture accumulating on his scalp and realize how his fingers start to shiver under pressure. “I, um, I don’t think this thing is working. Does someone know how to fix this?”

“Maybe you broke it, old man,” another voice yells. “You should’ve just ordered online, so we didn’t have to deal with your mess!”

He can only sigh at the mockeries fired at him, but his patience remains high. Thankfully, karma finds its way to the heckler at the back, as the guard approaches and warns the pair to stop their impolite behavior. With the voice finally simmering down, the man in the suit is making some progress with the kiosk, but his ears catch footsteps getting louder and louder by the second. Clenching his fists in unease, he braces for whoever else may give him an earful.

“If I may, ahjussi…” He hears another voice from behind, now a calmer and feminine one. For some reason, his levels of anxiety begin to drop. “Let me help you with that.”

About six centimeters shorter than him, the woman’s ethereal appearance and attentive presence stuns him, prompting the man to step aside and let her deal with his problem. Despite being the very person behind him in the whole line, he didn't even notice her, since all his mind was focusing on was sorting out the kiosk by himself until he himself would have inevitably broken down due to the hecklers constantly mocking him. What surprises him is that she’s not in a uniform, yet she's able to fix his problem within half a minute, making him wonder whether or not she’s somehow from the staff.

“It’s not your fault,” she mumbles while he watches her from the side. “These kiosks are new. All you need to do is select the settings, change the method and—there! All your items are now totaled.”

He lets out a sigh of relief. “That’s really good to know. Kamsahamnida, Miss.”

She bows in response, while he hurries transferring his groceries into his shopping bag. Afterwards, the man would have gone on with his own business, but this encounter was different for him, aside from the fact that he rarely asked or received anyone’s help until the machine broke. His own machismo isn’t gonna let him be without trying to offer his assistance to the woman when she also finished her checkout a couple of minutes later. He sees her walk in his direction. “I’m sorry if I’m being a bother again, but let me help you with that too. If it’s fine with you.”

“Oh… Kamsahamnida.” Despite being taken aback by his action, she bows to him before leading the way throughout the market’s exit, where they are welcomed by the full moon in the sky. He carries three stuffed eco bags—two on the left and one on the right—while the woman carries a lighter one. She would often take a few glances at him out of concern, though he tries to reassure her with a few nods and a meager smile. A thought on her mind pushes her to help him by calling an auto-cart inside, but they’re already far from the store.

He can’t help but take a few peeks inside her bag as they stroll along the lane. While he isn’t able to see the items clearly, curiosity has already gotten the best of him. “You got a lot of stuff there. Do you mind if I ask what the occasion is? Christmas is still a couple of weeks away.”

“They’re for a family gathering.”

“Oh, mine too! I mean, it’s not unexpected, but I believe folks rarely buy stuff this early before Christmas. Let alone in person.”

“That’s true, but I’d rather not risk having delayed deliveries, considering the digital traffic… Or you know, missing some important ingredients for your recipes.”

“That’s a fair point,” he slowly nods.

“And you…” She takes a longer gaze at his eco bag. “You don’t have as much… Though it still looks heavy. Probably heavier than mine. I could’ve called an auto-cart back inside.”

“No, it’s fine,” he keeps insisting with a chuckle. “Gwenchana, seriously. I’ve carried heavier loads of paperwork than these in the past couple of years.”

“Arasseoyo, Mister Muscle,” the woman shoots back. Her raised eyebrow expresses intrigue and amusement, even if she can tell that he’s just trying to impress her to a degree, and realizing it makes her let out a chortle as they walk to the bus terminal.

He tries to continue the conversation, or at least keep babbling on from the top of his mind as they finally arrive at the lane. The only thing is—they just missed the last bus. The next ride won’t arrive for a while, unless they walk to another stop. But considering their distance to the nearest one—as well as their goods being quite a handful, neither of them seems to have the intention of doing just that.

A topic finally pops up in his mind, still driven by his curiosity about her minutes earlier. “Do you remember when those counters were still filled with cashiers? It must’ve been a kind of culture shock, finding out that we’re gonna have to check out our own groceries all by ourselves, unless we order online.”

“Yeah, I remember it clearly,” she admits with a more or less indifferent tone. “It hasn't been that long since they finally got rid of the last batch…” But the more her words come out, he senses jadedness and discouragement in her voice, despite saying a lot. “It sucks to see them leave, but what are you gonna do?” She sighs, much to his worry, even if he doesn’t know what her problem is about. “The company’s too afraid of falling behind.”

His mind compels him to do something, hoping to cheer her or lighten up the mood. “You must’ve frequented here often to know all of that… You even know how to fix a kiosk and you’re also worried about the cashiers. Are you the manager of the store?”

She keeps herself from scoffing at his genuine amazement, and the fact that he’s still basically glazing her for her mere act of assistance. “Um, no. Not as a manager, but I used to work here… As a cashier.”

“Oh…” Fuck is the first word that darts through his brain, followed by shit and crap. Immediate guilt and regret strike through his heart, believing that he’s offended her with his words. Why didn’t I think of it before? “I didn’t mean to phrase it like that. Joesonghamnida.”

“Oh, no, no!” she waves her hands in a slight panic while he starts to bow to her. “Don’t apologize. I wasn’t offended, and I understand your point, but I still work here. It’s just not my shift tonight.”

“You’re still working here?” he wonders, confused yet just as curious about the wave of conflicting info he has learned. “But I thought the cashiers had been discharged in this supermarket since last year… That’s why I thought you’d be a manager or something.”

“Most of us were,” she nods. “But some of us were lucky enough to stay here and were reassigned to other roles. I’m just a kiosk specialist now—which is just a much fancier way of saying that I’m a technician.”

They both chuckle at her remark. “I don’t see anything wrong with that,” he considers. “I think you have more experience than some folks in corpo nowadays. I think it’s always a plus when you learn things hands-on.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” she slowly nods. “Though, I don’t believe I know more than those with desk jobs. But, I do think we have as much experience when working with people.”

“Now that you’ve brought it up, people aren’t as many here compared to back then. It’s always been more convenient to shop online in the past decade. I just really think it is a bummer that a lot of workers have to be fired because our means of living have become easier now, no thanks to those bots.”

“It’s true, but I wouldn’t entirely see everything as negative,” she retorts. “As much as you’re right, there’s new jobs out there. Ones where we can start using our brains and bodies more often. Act more like a human for once, you know?”

He sees her somber smile as they lock eyes. The smile doesn’t appear to be forced, but rather wistful. Perhaps he’s been complimenting her way too much, and it’s starting to come off as annoying. Maybe she’s going through something or has been through a lot, but that’s not in his right to know, since they’ve only met. “Based on that, I’m guessing you don’t love your job. I don’t know how else to say it, since I’m just a stranger… But I hope you hang in there.”

She tilts her head while her lips pout. “Love? Hate? Hmm… I haven’t used those words to describe my jobs. Not in a while... I just know how to adapt and get used to whatever job or gig I can get by. But now that you mentioned it, I do love gaining more and more experience, just as I hate dealing with cranky customers, like that heckler from earlier.”

“But, umm,” she adds, feeling a glimmer of sincerity with what he just said. “Thanks for saying that. As a ‘fellow stranger’ myself, I appreciate it. I hope you hang in there, too.”

Amidst the winter breeze, the woman brings out a scarf from her bag and wraps it around her neck, before rubbing her hands and blowing into it. Her gestures give him an idea, which may or may not work, but that’s the least of his worries. He still feels a sense of debt and gratitude for her after she helped him out earlier—no matter how trivial it is. Perhaps due to the fact that she just happens to be beautiful and polite, maybe there is something else that he’s feeling, but he brushes it off. He doesn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable more than the frightening possibility that she already is, being with him.

“Hey, uhh… I think the next bus won’t be here for a while,” he brings up. “Would you mind if we grab a cup of coffee or tea first? Anything you’d like, really. It’s my treat.”

The woman is touched by his sudden suggestion, yet her lingering sense of pride is making her feel hesitant to accept it. “Oh, that's too much. You don’t have to…”

“It’s the least I can do, since you helped me out at the counter,” he avows. “I would’ve given you my stamp coupon from a café I often visit, but I’ve used all of it. That is… If you’re not in the rush right now. I’m just suggesting, cause it’s getting colder out here and we might need a place to warm up for a bit.”

She laughs at his honest statement, not caring whether he’s joking or telling the truth. His somewhat awkward yet honest deliveries have fascinated her for a while now. If it was like any other stranger, she would’ve left or ticked them off moments ago, but she doesn't feel too tense around him. It's in a way, refreshing. Besides, it is up to her if she will regret meeting him at a later time or not. She’s a grown woman, and if he even does anything funny, there are people everywhere. For now, she doesn’t feel like she wants to ditch him. At least, he has yet to give her a fair reason. “It’s fine, but since you’re the one offering, perhaps a cup of hot chocolate will do for me, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, that’s perfect!” a hint of enthusiasm arises in his voice, astonished that she even went along with his improvised suggestion. “Where would you like to order?”

“Hmm… I think you should lead the way,” a smile forms on the woman’s face while placing an index finger on her chin, insinuating her anticipation. “Seems to me like you’re the café connoisseur.”

The man chortles at her compliment. “I just know quality drinks, that's for sure.”

“Though I do prefer if we go somewhere closer to here,” she requests. “Just in case we catch the next bus arriving.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he hums. “I think I know just the place.”

He raises the three eco bags off the pavement with his care, although the woman assists him into carrying them properly. However, before she can follow his footsteps, she feels a buzzing in her pocket. Her eyes widened at the message she just received seconds ago.

“Joesonghamnida!” she suddenly bows to him in a fast sequence, her voice mirroring her rushed pace. “I got an urgent thing to do back home. But if you want, we can have coffee some other time.”

He didn’t expect her to say those latter words, but it gives him a sense of hope. That she didn’t misunderstood his intentions. But in a fit of internal panic, rummages his hands inside his messenger bag to find something. Within seconds, he pulls out a wrinkled small card at the same time the woman hails the nearest taxi cab on sight.

“Of course, of course… It’s okay! Here's my call card,” he hands it over. “Just call me up through that number and, umm, we can meet up wherever you like.”

The woman keeps the card inside her eco bag just in time as the cab stops in front of the sidewalk. Opening the backseat door for her, the man helps her get two of her shopping bags in the middle of the seat. Once everything has been sorted out, she turns to look at him—both in relief and guilt—and bows to him once more. “Kamsahamnida, ahjussi... And, uhh, Merry Christmas.”

After she heads inside the vehicle, he sees the taxi leave the mall grounds, heading into a lane of the greater concrete sea and finding a spot among the fellow school of headlights.

“I don't know what just happened,” he whispers to himself, as he sees a pair of bigger headlights approaching from a distance. As it gets closer, more and more people, most of whom are also packed with tons of holiday goods in their arms, behind him start gathering in a line. “I just hope I didn't ruin her night.”

= = =

It's been a few weeks since New Year’s passed. He hasn’t received any calls from her, but he never realized it. After spending time with his family at home, he gets back to slaving away at work through meetings with the higher-ups and on-the-spot presentations. It is still the second week of January, yet everything becomes a blur when it comes to going through his routine. Things repeat in a cycle of the mundane. That has always been the case for him, until he receives a text from an unknown number during his lunch break.

[Unknown]: Annyeonghaseyo, ahjussi. Is this Young Sungwoo?

He shakes his head. His eyes can’t believe it, but the messages keep on being sent.

[Unknown]: I don’t know if you still remember me, but this is the lady from the supermarket.

I’m really sorry for leaving out of the sudden.

I had an emergency back at home.

Whenever you’re free, would you like to have that hot chocolate you promised?

Why is she still texting me? is the first instinctive question that pops up in his mind, followed by Is this a scam?, How is this possible?, The text sounds like her, but why is she apologizing when I’m the one who kept pestering her?, This cannot be happening, among many other thoughts clashing together as the unexpected situation leaves him in a state of analysis paralysis. That's until he takes another look at her last message. The hot chocolate. Of course! How can it not be her?

Assured by the texter's identity, he spends the remainder of his break, thinking of the words to text her back before getting back to his desk, perhaps with perhaps even more effort than most of his recent individual presentations at work since returning to work.

{{But I can adjust my schedule if you want to meet on those days.}}

[Unknown]: If you’re free today, then I was thinking later.

Since it’s Friday, you know?

Is that possible for you?

The café happens to be about eight minutes walk from his work, surprisingly enough. Entering inside, he sees her at one of the fifteen tables, almost half of which is seated with other customers. As their eyes meet, she waves at him.

“Annyeonghaseyo,” she greets him with a low respectful bow, which he reciprocates before taking the seat in front of her.

“I thought this would be a nice place for us to meet since I saw your company address.”

His mouth gapes, understanding her intention. “So that’s why this place is near our building! But, uhh… I hope I didn’t make you take a long ride.”

“It’s okay, ahjussi!” She raises her hand. “My place isn't that far from here either.”

“Please, don’t call me ahjussi,” he requests with a sheepish tone, raising his tone a little. “I’m not old. I just turned thirty.”

“Well, I’m not that old,” he adds in embarrassment. The man’s lowered voice makes her giggle. “Now that I’ve basically outed my age to almost everyone here, I guess I do count as an ahjussi… But I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all,” she reassures. “Our ages are not that far after all… I’m actually twenty-six.” She then leans into him a little closer, curious at his own misgivings. “And by the way, I don’t even think you look old. You look just about our age�� Even if you are an ahjussi, I wouldn’t mind lessening formalities between us.”

“Thanks.” He takes a sip of his cup. “Those hecklers at the market must’ve gotten to me.”

“They do look like they’re on the younger side,” she considers. “Kids these days, huh?”

“That’s true… But I don’t know how exactly their parents raised them, so I don’t think it’s worth holding any grudges against them. A bad day can get anyone riled up.”

His answer intrigues her. It may sound like a little lecture, but his answers resonate with her. “That’s, umm... Quite mature of you. You ever dealt with people like those at work?”

“Pretty much,” he slowly nods with instinct. “It comes with the territory, but we’ve learned that there are much better ways of discipline than screaming at them. Our generation, I mean.”

“I agree.” Her head tilts while taking a glance at him with wonder. In her mind, there’s nothing witty or insightful left for her to add. But I don’t think that should excuse them for making a mistake. They gotta learn how to better themselves.” Except for one.

His face can’t help but form a smile. Now, he doesn’t have anything to add. “Well said.”

Despite them simply being strangers who have met up for drinks, this moment feels nice and calming for them, yet something is still missing. He slowly turns to her with caution. “I–uhh–I haven’t caught your name before.”

“Oh, right,” she mumbles, her eyes growing at his realization. “I told you my age, but not my name, haha. It’s Suhyeon. And by your call card, I can assume you’re Sungwoo?” Her eyes squint with suspicion in an attempt to tease him. “Unless that was your coworker’s name, which you used just to call me or something.”

He chortles at her remark, raising his hands for a second. “That is my name. No tricks.” Sungwoo keeps his right hand raised, signaling an attempt to shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Suhyeon.”

“I know, I’m just messing,” she shoots back, right before reciprocating his handshake with a welcoming smile. “And it’s nice meeting you, too, Young Sungwoo-ssi.”

Hoping to initiate their conversation this time, she tries to recall a few details from him since their previous encounter, as well as his card. “Wait, so you are from corpo right? I can’t believe you said I have more experience than the likes of you.”

He lets out a snicker. The fact that she even remembers that surprises him. “My opinion still stands. Some of my colleagues could be freeloaders whenever there’s team projects.”

She sighs just imagining some of his hardships. “That must be a chore to deal with.”

“It is at times, but like what you said, you just get used to it.” The silence is now his cue; it’s his turn to try and get to know a little more about his companion. “So, Suhyeon-ssi, what else do you do for a living, aside from being a kiosk specialist at the mall… since I remember you saying that you’re working from job to job.”

“Well, that was the case.” Her smile grows wider. “I stopped working at the mall about two weeks ago when a friend of mine recommended me to a new and more stable one.”

He puts down his now half empty cup on the table. “What’s your main job these days?”

“Starting from next week, I’m gonna be a company driver,” she informs him. “My friend works there, but I got hired through their interview and test drives.”

“I gotta say, you're quite amazing, Suhyeon-ssi. What can you not do?”

“You’ve been flattering me non-stop, Sungwoo-ssi,” she shakes her head with a snicker, before her hand instinctively reaches to the napkin box and wipes some of the stain off his sleeve. “You didn’t even notice that stain.” She looks up to see his lips, also stained with coffee foam. “And your lips—”

“Oh,” she stops just as the napkin touches his lips, realizing that her impulse has astounded him. “Joesonghaeyo.”

“No, it’s okay,” he tells her. “But I can handle it from here.” He takes the napkin from her hand, igniting a spark from her. “Thank you for noticing this. You got sharp eyes.”

“Must be a force of habit,” she quips, while avoiding eye contact with him. Her mind reflects on her unexpected, ceremonious gesture.

From that moment forward, the two would keep meeting on weekends for coffee and hot chocolate, finding the most mundane yet meaningful things to talk about inside the café. It doesn’t always happen, but when they both agree to meet up, they make the most of it. And whenever none are available, they start using their phones longer, whether through usual texts or calls, almost every weekend night. Through their sleepless hours, they get to know each other, exchanging fun facts about themselves & sharing jokes and memes. Even finding out about their favorite or least favorite things is enough to prolong their conversations from twelve midnight until two in the morning.

[Suhyeon]: Yah! Don’t just consider (╥﹏╥) I promise, you won’t regret it!

{{Sungwoo: Fine, I will try it out.}} {{Your ingredients on the hot pot were amazing, after all.}} {{My colleagues and I ended up gobbling them all down within an hour.}}

[Suhyeon]: You’re welcome! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

{{Sungwoo: And how about my recommendations? I gave you about a hundred dessert suggestions last time. I’m sure you would’ve tried some of them by now.}}

[Suhyeon]: Hmm… I’ll think about it. It was too many for me to remember a single one.

[Suhyeon]: Of course, I’m kidding! I did try that coffee toffee ice cream with my buddies. For a store-bought dessert, it's top-tier, that’s for sure. Cheap one too. You really love anything coffee-related, don’t you?

Sometimes, it takes a longer time for her to reply. He would think she’s introspective about something that’s trivial and mundane, or that he said something insensitive or offensive to her. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought questions like those up, but she always has an answer. Even if they sometimes come off as dismissive or evasive, Suhyeon’s insight resonates with him, to a past that even he rarely calls back to.

[Suhyeon]: Oh, you know… My friends and family. I’m sorry if that sounded cliche, but you get my point, right? Getting through college wasn’t easy for me. For pretty much anyone else, really.

[Suhyeon]: But that’s way back in the past. I’m quite content with what I got now. For the most part.

However, both of them are well aware that both or either of these pale in comparison to their meetings in person. Nothing beats the real thing, as a lot would say. Aside from coffee and chocolate, they would start ordering other drinks for once, sometimes even snacks they can munch on after work while they rant or share their thoughts. They found their own little ecosystem within the café’s area. Most talks would last for thirty to forty minutes, sometimes an hour—if not a few minutes longer, if they can’t help it.

Though, it never usually lasts more than that. Suhyeon whines that her parents have a less strict curfew for her even in her mid-twenties, which raises his eyebrow—though he never bothered to ask for any elaboration. She’d do the same thing for him, though there seems to be no problem with him answering her questions like he’s an open book.

“How about you then?” Because of Sungwoo’s amiable views and easy-going demeanor, Suhyeon eventually returns his curiosity by asking him about his occupation more than the call card he gave her about last December. “You must’ve been a marketing manager at your company at this point. You’ve read a lot of trends from the palm of your hand.”

“That’s flattering… But I am not there yet,” he confesses, wearing a simper on his face. “I don’t think I’ll even get there in a while. While being a no-name marketing specialist has its ups, you gotta deal with the rest of your team or even suck up to the older higher ups just to convince them that your idea is worth pushing through. I even don’t have any other time or the privilege to spend on outside work, at least besides these hours.”

“Hmm… You’re not alone. My friends are way out of my league… One’s a gourmet chef. The other’s banker. The other two even got promoted to higher positions just recently!” she lets out a deep sigh. “Until now, I still question why they are still hanging out with me…. Why they’re even making time for me.”

He doesn’t know how else to feel but amazement. “They must be great friends. Just considering how highly you speak of them.”

“Oh, they are!” she exclaims with enthusiasm, only for it to dip down within seconds. “It’s just… Ugh. I don’t wanna admit it, but I feel like I’m just being a burden to them whenever I meet up with them outside.” She places each of her cheeks on her palms, slowly rubbing them up and down as she groans with lower spirits.

“Don’t think of it that way,” he insists. “You still have a lot ahead of you, and plus, you’re not alone. There is nothing burdensome about having close friends… They rely on you as much as you rely on them. Clearly, you all care for each other.”

His words slowly warms Suhyeon’s heart. “Seems like you have good friends yourself.”

“Had,” he retorts. “Most of my friends are just being slaves to our work like myself. Even some of them are staying at home, raising their children, like almost twenty-four seven.”

Her glassy eyes are filled with sympathy and consolation, making her turn her head away from him for a moment as she puffs. Sungwoo senses her vulnerable moment.

“Everyone has their reasons or excuses why they’re busy, I get that... Life just happens.”

What he said casts a gloom over her in the form of less pleasant memories resurfacing.

“Sungwoo-ssi,” she mutters, keeping her own voice from trembling. “I–uhh…”

“What is it, Suhyeon?”

“Nothing,” she clears her throat. “It’s just… What you said was really something. I hope your friends got to do whatever they wanted back then. Not everyone gets to reach their dreams the way they expected, you know?”

“That’s true, but even if that seems to be the case, life doesn't stop after your twenties. I mean, it shouldn’t!” he asserts as a hopeful smile forms on his face. “And that is coming from someone who just left that chapter.”

She turns to him, reading his face. “Sounds like you've had regrets in your twenties.”

“Well, I can't deny that…” He chuckles at her deduction, not out of mockery, but the fact she has read his expression too well. “But then again, don't we all have those at some point?”

The woman gulps at his rhetorical question, but her once facade of somber eyes flare up. Her left hand slowly squeezes her empty coffee cup until the rest of her fingers meet her thumb around it. Keeping his hands clasped under the table, Sungwoo’s peripherals can sense her pent-up emotions slowly breaking out through her actions, although he does not say anything about it. Despite his concern, he knows that she doesn’t have to open up if she’s not ready. Yet for Suhyeon, taking in his honest words cools her down—in a fashion that’s familiar to her. “Butterflies” would be a cliche of a word to describe it. She remembers all too well how she has used that word about someone else before, and how it ended up to where she is now. The good, the bad, and the ugly of it all.

“I’m sure you'll get to reach what dreams you want to do,” he looks at her with solace. “Even if you don't realize what they are just yet. I hope you don’t give up on it.”

She stares into the blank space, considering his words, even though most of her mind has always been discouraging her from imagining anything. Pipe dreams won't get us anywhere, she reminds herself. And why are you even here? This is the last place you should be. But turning to him once again, Suhyeon senses the last thing she’d expected to happen in a long time. Her heart slowly beating faster. You should stop meeting him. Looking down on the floor, the woman just realizes the moisture building up in her eyes.

As tears begin to pour down her face, Suhyeon looks at Sungwoo once again, seeing his hand holding a piece of napkin in front of her. While sniffling, she looks up to his face. He doesn’t say or ask anything, except for the words, “Are you alright?”

“I... uhh... I don't know... But thank you,” she mumbles. Taking the white cloth from his hand, she begins to feel a familiar rhythm within her. One that’s growing louder than the lo-fi music that’s playing on the speakers.

But amidst their moment of bliss, they watch a child entering the café door—standing with daze and confusion while everyone else also looks at her with curiosity, adoration, or concern. Sungwoo expects the nearby young cashier or anyone else to approach and calm her down, yet instead, a collected Suhyeon walks to the girl first with an amiable and sympathetic approach. He follows her, astonished at her initiative and attention, though his worry still lingers for her due to her own moment of vulnerability earlier.

“Hey, little girl,” she kneels on her level. “Are you alright? Why are you here alone?”

“I…” The girl’s voice cracks as she starts to break down in tears. “I don’t know where my eomma and appa are!”

“It’s okay, don’t cry,” she holds her closer, comforting the sobbing child with a slow pat and caress to her back. “Don’t worry, we’ll find her, arachi? What’s your name?”

“Ha…Eun,” she sniffles. “My name… Is Haeun… What… Should I… call you, eomonim?”

Suhyeon uses the napkin to wipe off her tears. “My name is Suhyeon,” she turns to him with a gaze of trust. “And this ahjussi’s name is Sungwoo. You’re gonna be staying with us for a while. We can get you anything you want while we look for your parents.”

Hearing it from her again, he oddly doesn’t mind the term this time. Maybe it’s just the context it’s used that bothered him before, but as it left her mouth, it sounds—normal. It sounds complimentary. “Hello, Haeun-ah,” he greets her. “Do you have anything we can use to help you find your parents? Do you memorize their phone numbers?”

“I don’t—*hic*—know, ahju—*hic*—ssi…” Haeun tries telling him through her hiccups.

Suhyeon notices the lanyard on Haeun’s neck, finding the girl’s ID. “Haeun-ah… Can I take a look at this for a second?”

The girl nods, allowing Suhyeon to inspect the back of the ID. Her guess proves her right. “It has a phone number,” she informs Sungwoo and everyone else in the café, filling up the once disquiet and tense café with optimism. “We can call your parents, Haeun-ah!”

Almost twenty minutes later, a couple storms inside the café with faces of fright and disquietude. “Haeun-ah!” they cry to her. Their unease dwindles down at the second they find their daughter sitting on the table beside Suhyeon and in front of Sungwoo, taking a sip of her own smaller cup of hot chocolate.

“Eomma, appa!” Haeun rejoices, running to them in the middle of the café as her parents wrap her in a warm embrace, prompting cheers from the staff and some customers. Sungwoo can only smile at their precious moment, though he sees Suhyeon letting out a sigh in relief—droplets of sweat start to drip out of her scalp. Yet it also fascinates him that her smile grows much wider.

“Kamsahamnida, Miss!” Haeun’s parents bow to them in a rapid succession, bowing as low as their heads can reach. “Kamsahamnida, Sir! I don’t know how we can repay you. Thank you so much for looking out for our daughter.”

“Gwenchanayo,” she reassures them, holding each of their arms in hopes that they stop bowing to them—which they eventually do. “Just keep looking out after your daughter.”

Another several minutes pass. The sun had already set and rush hour had just begun. Suhyeon and Sungwoo have exited the café, taking a stroll to the nearby bus stop. With no words leaving any of their mouths, they’re only hearing the horns of whining drivers along with their own footsteps. She’s quieter around him, ever since he saw her in tears. It’s the first time she hasn’t spoken to him on their way home.

“You know how to handle that pretty well,” he praises her. “Have you ever considered being a nursery or kindergarten teacher?”

Her eyes widen, realizing something that only she knows. “I have to go,” she tells him with a fast and weak pace, contrasting her enthusiasm earlier. “I’m really sorry about this, Sungwoo.”

“Oh… It’s fine!” He wants to ask why, but he stops himself. He doesn’t have the right. Besides, it’s not the first time she’s told and left out of the sudden, he nudges himself. Even if she doesn’t tell the reason... Even if she won’t tell him the reason the moment they text tonight, like nothing strange ever happened. “Take care… Suhyeon-ssi.”

= = =

Three weeks have passed. Things start to drift apart. Suhyeon stopped texting first after the first week, but Sungwoo didn’t stop. Both people have had sleepless nights, but they never meet. Not even text as often as they did. Due to the gradual fall in their digital and personal interaction, Sungwoo eventually stops taking initiative. As their respective lives go on, he does his best not to succumb to the temptation of texting her over and over, to the point she becomes uncomfortable like he’s often feared since they met.

Of course, it would be far from the last time he receives a text from her.

[Suhyeon]: Hey, Sungwoo-ssi. Can we meet?

No coffee or chocolate. No avocados or desserts. Just each other’s chilling presence and their own breaths warming up this winter afternoon. He notices her new look. It’s not a uniform, but it’s a little more formal than the previous attires he saw her in.

He simply wants to tell her that she’s beautiful, yet his more soured and stubborn self wants to ask her why it took her this long, even though he knows that her personal life has never been his business, nor should it be.

“It’s been a while,” he breaks the awkward silence with a sigh. “Is everything alright?”

“Things have…” Her eyes are darted on the ground, her hands clenching on her knees. “Gotten busier at work.”

He senses that something else is troubling her mind, but he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. He’s nothing but a friend, perhaps a mere close acquaintance to her. Someone who she can confide her most trivial problems to, and only that. But despite this meek and unassertive thought, he believes that—deep down—that may just be for the better.

“I don’t think I’ll be meeting you in a while,” she continued before he could’ve answered.

“It’s okay,” he said without a tone of complaint. “I understand that. No pressure.”

Such a response struck a nerve in her or punched through her gut. As if that’s not the answer she had hoped for from the man. “What if I don’t see you longer than that?”

“Then…” He wants her to explain why she’s asking him such a question, but he tries to remain reasonable, no thanks to his self-doubt. “I’ll understand if you can’t meet up.”

He feels like himself in the past. Spineless. Dishonest. Numb. Helpless. Coward. Yet another part of him keeps fighting on, despising those traits, not for his own sake, but for her. Since they started meeting up and talking, Sungwoo has known a lot about her, yet there’s still so much he doesn’t know. The same goes for Suhyeon, but he thinks she cares little about that. There is an invisible barrier between them that has been keeping them from going further than this. Whatever this is.

And now, after a few months of making a connection with this wonderful woman, his mind braces for the worst case scenario, just as his heart foresees his fears. Is this it?

Their eyes meet, reading a few glimpses through each other’s souls. Broken. Deprived. Lonely. Yearning. She looks down on his face, his lips now appearing much closer. Her heartbeats do not deceive her, deafening her fear. No words follow from their mouths, only each other’s breaths becoming clearer and louder with each second. Giving in to the whispers of her temptation, Suhyeon gets up from her seat and inches towards him.

Frozen in the moment, their lips touch. Sungwoo melts into the kiss, closing her eyes with her. Seconds pass, warmth turns into a burning sensation. Sweetness turns to hunger, one that neither of them have felt in forever. As the man reciprocates her gesture, the irresistible tingle she’s feeling urges her tongue to slide into his—

“Mianhaeyo,” she takes a few steps back away from him, appalled by her own impulse while catching up her breath. “I… I shouldn't have done that—”

Sungwoo remains frozen for a second, but not his heart. He leans himself closer into her this time, embracing her as the beat of their hearts sync with the rhythm of their second kiss. With their eyes closed once again, Suhyeon doesn’t fight back. Instead, she slowly wraps her arms around his nape in order to pull him closer until their chests collide.

It would be the last time the pair would’ve met…

If it wasn’t for Sungwoo’s stubbornness. Even if it costs whatever they had, he wants to know how she's been doing ever since. Even if she made the move, he either can’t help but blame himself as the reason why she stops reaching out to him after that meetup.

= = =

Another week has passed, and Sungwoo goes on with his usual life—yet, the presence of Suhyeon still lingers on his mind. From the bar to the PC bang, he tries to do everything he can to get the woman off his thoughts. Even online dating—as some of his coworkers suggested to him lately… So he does, and after his twenty-third swipe, he hits it off with someone, much to his own surprise. “You must be Hyewon… Or is it Belle?” he corrects himself immediately. “Your profile has two names. I don’t know what to call you.”

She chuckles at his hesitant question. “Any will do… And you are Sungwoo-ssi, if I am not mistaken?”

Things are taking off for them in the next half an hour. He compliments her appearance. She laughs at his jokes, whether they’re forced or not. They talk about their opinions on certain topics. He fails to read her signals. It’s a start, he admits with little confidence.

But on that same Saturday night, he receives a phone call from an unknown number. He can just ignore the call, let the other party leave a message after the beep, maybe he can hang out with Belle a little longer, see how things go. Unfortunately for himself and his date, he can’t help but be Sungwoo. As someone who has spent his life through his job, every call for him has become an obligation.

He answers it with some caution. “This is Young Sungwoo speaking. Who is this?”

But that voice. Her voice. It's something that he can never forget. “It’s me, Ji Suhyeon. This is my company’s number… I’m sorry if I surprised you. I’m just finishing my shift for the night, and…”

She stops. And despite the past few times they’ve talked on the phone, he can now sense her hesitation from the other side. “You can say it. I won’t mind.”

“Well, I just thought of you,” she completes her words. “Plus, I owe you an apology. In ways more than one.”

He can hear his own heart, making that familiar rhythm. Whenever he was with her.

“It’s okay, Suhyeon,” he stammers, but immediately clears his throat. “How are you?”

“Could be worse, to be honest…” A deep breath from her fills the dead air for a few seconds before Sungwoo can hear her voice again. “Are you free… This weekend?”

There it is. It’s his chance. Maybe his last one.

“You know I am,” he tries to play it cool with her, yet he quickly realizes how awkward he sounded. “I mean, of course... Same place?”

He can hear Suhyeon let out a light chuckle for a moment. “Maybe not at the café,” she suggests. “But somewhere else. If that’s fine with you.”

It’s about the nth time they said those words to each other. But hearing it from her once again is a breath of fresh air. “Elsewhere would be nice, too.”

Returning to the bar, his eyes scan most of the place, only to find that his date is no longer around. He receives a message.

[Belle:] Sorry for dipping early, but I got a thing. We can still hang out another time if you want.

Strangely enough, he doesn’t feel a sense of disappointment. Sure, he’s bummed out he fumbled the date with the first woman he met online in years, but he’s not too bummed out about it because of her. Instead, he couldn't feel any luckier because of this call.

= = =

It’s the fourth of May. Instead of the usual café, they decided to meet at the park outside. They take a seat next to each other on one of the benches, albeit keeping a wide distance. He’s on the left corner, with her on the right. Amidst the silence of the background, they see each other in their springtime attire. Suhyeon is in a brighter dress and jeans, while Sungwoo is finally not wearing a suit for once; instead, he’s wearing a blue short sleeve. Whether or not today ends up being the last time they meet, both of them agree on one thing: it’s about time that they meet each other in the early morning for the first time.

“You look beautiful,” he scratches his head, finally listening to his heart instead of letting his own brain filter his thoughts until they sound more logical or interrupts himself with more filler words.

She looks down in embarrassment, hiding her reaction as she senses her cheeks slowly heating up. “Thank you,” she mumbles. “You look nice, too, Sungwoo-ssi.”

“Thanks… But can we talk about what happened last time—” he continues.

“I know,” Suhyeon interjects with a soft-spoken tone. She takes a deep breath, before looking up to face him. “But I have to tell you something first, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” he straightens his sitting posture while their eyes level. “What is it?”

The woman gulps involuntarily. “There’s another job I haven't told you about… And it’s not that simple. It’s not that I don’t wanna meet you, Sungwoo, even if I'm busier... It’s just… I don’t know how to say this.”

“Take your time.” Sungwoo doesn’t know why she's suddenly talking about her job, yet he keeps listening, sensing her state of distress and hesitation. “Whatever that may be, and as long as you love it, I’m happy for you. I don’t think our… situation should get in the way of your…”

There it is again, she thinks. “Why shouldn’t it?”

“Because that’s your job,” he counters. “It’s your life… And besides, I can just adjust.”

“I don't think you can.” She can’t keep on lying and hiding like this. He has to know, even if it ruins things, ends things even. “Sungwoo-ssi. The thing is…”

“What is it? I’m sure it’s nothing bad—”

“I have a child, Sungwoo.”

She looks at him with a fortified expression, yet deep down, she feels the most nervous. Especially when his eyes widen after hearing those four words, her thoughts go all over the place, stricken with panic and despair. Not even air comes out from his mouth that moment, something that only intensifies Suhyeon’s unease as his silence lasts seconds.

“Did you just hear what I said?” she asks him up front, slightly raising her voice in an attempt to keep herself from crumbling from within. “I’m a single mother.”

“This job, this responsibility of mine isn’t easy,” she continues before he can make any response, clenching both her fists and finally pouring her heart out. “It never has been. Every year, you get into family gatherings. Not only do you help prepare them, but you buy gifts for your relatives, yet all you get from some of them are blames and lectures for what’s happened to you. And whenever you're with friends, you gotta put on a bolder face just to ask them to look out for the kid while you work your ass off in different jobs from morning ‘till afternoon—or whenever you're applying for one… But there's things I don't regret, at least with what I have now. And no matter how hard things get, I don’t regret keeping him. Raising him.”

At that moment, some things have become clearer to him. Their long and wholehearted talks about life and dreams. The unusual curfew and her leaving out of the sudden. Her encounter with the little girl. Her pent-up emotions finally cracking around him. Now, he realizes why she never told him more of her life, rooted out of the fear and distress that she will be rejected, lambasted, patronized, or looked down on, like everyone else in her life.

“And just like meeting you that night… It’s something that I don’t regret either,” she confesses. “Even if that was some silly chance encounter, it was one of the times I felt something new. So I called you that day to see where it goes, and here we are… But of course—a part of me still keeps telling me: Let it go. You’re a mother now. You don't deserve to have these feelings... You're just giving yourselves a hard time.”

Sungwoo looks at her face. His mind and heart tells her to hold her hand. Say anything. Do anything to comfort her, now that she’s told him the truth about the barrier that has been keeping them from going the distance for months.

Suhyeon’s heart starts to tighten with every beat, seeing his look of guilt and sorrow. It's not the first time she's seen it from someone. “If you don’t want to see me, after this… I'll understand, Sungwoo... I was the one who invited you into whatever-this-thing-is to begin with, didn’t I?”

“No,” he tells her without hesitation. “That doesn’t change what I think about you.”

“It should…” she mutters in defeat, shameful to even look him in the eye as she says it.

“What you said, it only proved what I already thought of you… You’re a wise, beautiful, hardworking, independent, and fearless woman,” he elaborates, allowing himself to be vulnerable with Suhyeon. “And for you to keep that part of your life for long—it must’ve been a pain. It’s something that I can’t imagine. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you sooner. About how you were really feeling. What you’re going through—”

“Don't,” she interjects with disdain, but not for him. It’s too late, Suhyeon thinks while her mouth remains shut. You’ve heard this before. Look at what happened to us. “I’m tired of people telling me that they're sorry. It's not your fault why I'm like this.”

“I know… I’m sorry because I wasn’t attentive enough. That I wasn’t courageous enough,” he adds. “But I am not sorry that it doesn't change how I feel about you.”

Her eyes widen, her mouth agape in shock. Staring through his soul, waves of emotions start to clash deep down in her heart—Awe. Doubt. Denial. Mistrust. Misunderstanding. Fear. Warmth. Comfort. Growth. Excitement. Hope. Joy. Acceptance—while a stream of conflicting thoughts flood her mind. This was bound to happen sooner or later. What’s the point of this? You never had a chance. He’s one of them. You’re a disgrace for ever being here. He'll just leave you. Go home with your son and your parents. There’s no point in hoping, Ji Suhyeon. “Sungwoo-ssi…”

“I like you, Suhyeon-ssi,” he finally affirms, with much stronger conviction in his voice. “I don’t know if it means anything to you, but that’s the truth… I don’t care what comes after this. But I just want you to know that there's no shame in what you are, and what you're going through… I'll always be here for you.”

Suhyeon’s inner thoughts and misgivings shut down. In turn, her heart starts to sing without shame, rejoicing and reaching ranges she hasn't felt in years, as it yearns for something more. His earnest gentleness. His soothing scent. His comforting touch. Unbeknownst to her, he feels just about the same.

She rushes to Sungwoo, laying her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around him. He places his right hand on her head, caressing it. That warm comfort that she’s been longing for, it’s within her grasp. Tears of jubilation begin to drip from her face down to his shirt, as she breathes easier. “Gomawoyo, Sungwoo.”

Gently pulling away from their embrace, she leans back to look at him closely with a warm and grateful smile that mirrors his, letting out a chuckle of relief. “And I like you, too.”

A smile quickly forms on Sungwoo’s face, prompting him to give her a peck on the lips. As she giggles, Suhyeon prolongs the act with a longer, sweeter kiss of acceptance. From this day forward, their months of week to week encounters and meetups at the café end, as a new chapter of their lives awaits. It is unknown as it is promising, exciting as it is frightening. But at least they have each other to face it head-on. Together.

= = =

a/n: hello again! if you've reached the end, then you must've read a good chunk of it. it's not my proudest work, even if it's only my second one, tho I liked writing it for the most part. still, I wanna publish it, 'cause I don't want it to stay in my drafts lol. once again, the aforementioned next fic from earlier is already in progress. anyhoo, thanks for the read. I hope you have a great day!

#triples fluff #kpop fluff #kpop au #triples jiyeon #kpop angst #jiyeon fluff #male reader #male reader fluff #kpop romance

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allthecanadianpolitics · 3 months ago

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I actually really dislike using taxes to try and pressure certain behaviours because it only really causes problem for poor people, especially if you're going to make making exemptions for industries that should be the target of it anyways. It's all for show. Ooh, gas is more expensive now so people will make greener decisions--you've just made it so companies will hike up their prices so gas is more expensive but the average Canadian has no alternatives to paying that higher price. And removing the carbon rebate? It's the same story about how taking money through taxes is "bad" (for companies), but god forbid the government give that money to the individuals who may need it. Maybe it encourages some level of change by making green more profitable, relatively speaking, but it still puts the onus on companies and consumers when progress has a price tag more expensive than the status quo and gives reason for "greener" alternatives to price gouge because environmentally friendly is a selling point for the people who can afford it. Even if he creates tax incentives for other, greener choices, the question remains as to who can afford to make those choices and reap the rewards? If the government outright subsidized those green choices it'd be one thing, but simple rewards or being overall, long-term cheaper still requires already having the initial capital necessary to invest in those green choices.

(Plus carbon isn't the only measurement of being harmful to the environment. Something will excel at whatever measurement you use for success--we see this in how instead of using fossil fuels, companies like Tesla will still engage in environmentally and humanitarianly damaging practices but claim being eco-friendly because they're not using oil or coal)

Just man up and make regulations, put funding into better, greener infrastructure so making the greener decision is actually feasible, actually DO something useful instead of expecting individual Canadians to make the "right" decisions in a dysfunctional system. That's why we HAVE a government. I know we've made lots of progress in terms of switching to more renewable, green energy, but while you've got to reward the behaviour you want to see you also have make it feasible for the average Canadian. They could at least push for something more radical instead of waffling on policies that no one likes anyways. I'd respect the Liberals far more if they at least tried, even if it failed.

Carbon taxes are, at least when not used in conjunction with other more constructive policies, half-assing it in a way that is fundamentally ineffective at actually solving the problem because it doesn't address the demand part of supply-and-demand, and primarily screws over those who have fewer options in the first place. Its kowtowing to the oil industry because instead of offering genuine competition or alternatives, you instead give them a fine that they can afford to pay, and if they can't or won't they dump it on their consumers who largely have little choice in something like mode of transportation. And so long as its in competition with gas, electric cars and similar will remain more expensive because those who can afford it are willing to shell out for the more eco-friendly choice, not to mention the bigger price tag on maintaining and using that electric car, but that dynamic is reliant on the cheaper, gas-based baseline existing for those too poor to make the "green" decision. All of which has a profit motive that supersedes the people and environment that it is meant to benefit.

But the most basic example of Why We Need Governments And Taxes is maintaining roads for communal use and we still have 407 so I'm not holding my breath.

~~~~

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plaidos · 5 months ago

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prev ask anon here. please know that i am quite familiar with AI generated art and know how the process works. i was around when the novelAI model leaked and i still generate a fair amount of it both locally on my system and with online services. i am familiar with the infrastructure and technology that goes into providing large scale AI and machine learning services as well as the small scale home PC hardware. please dont assume the worst intentions or least experience of me. as for specific instances the one that comes to mind is GwrrrUwU (now deactivated). they were copying Dross's style *exactly* and got tens of thousands of twitter followers and a lot of patreon subs. you can go look up their images still on a few boorus and they just aren't good quality. you can go look up their page on archive.org and (with a bit of finagling) see they had this in their paid tiers: "I will try to post daily, 1+ or 4+ posts minimum." 4+ images per day, every day. thats a lot. and most of it was slop. another example i just found is Modeus14 (twitter handle) who is blatantly copying __Asura_ (twitter handle). check out their patreon where they supposedly have 369 paid members and have posts with 12+ images coming out multiple times per day. do you really think they are putting in the time and care to make those images come out well? i dont. and in regards to the other reply - the fun part is that you can just insert LoRAs with a specific artists style into the process with *very* little effort. the thing is that these models trained on a specific artists' style all exist already. you can check this out yourself by going to civitai.com and just searching for a specific artist. or go to the "models" section and then click on the "style" tab. not to mention that on the various paid/online imagegen services you can just say the artist name you want to copy and it will use that style. this stuff is real and there truly is a lot of slop out there made by dishonest people. at least acknowledge that slop exists. acknowledge that people are copying styles *exactly* with little effort or care for the end product.

but like you said it’s crap — which, by the way, i have actually said *dozens* of times, most AI art looks shit. but what you’re describing is the same process that leads to mcdonald’s opening outside a local burger place to drive them out of business. like yeah it’s shitty but sorry “lower quality for cheaper faster” is literally just How Capitalism Works. you have a problem with capitalism. like i don’t see how you don’t realise you’re just complaining that a bad imitation of something is more popular than the original because it’s being pumped out cheaper and faster…. that’s how everything under capitalism works. there’s not one industry that doesn’t work this way?

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ccalhoun · 2 years ago

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≻ ┄┄ ♡ ┄┄ ≺

carlisle cullen x m!werewolf! reader

warnings: male reader, werewolf reader, imprinting, twilight lore, omegaverse?, forbidden love, reader gets hit by a car lol, love confessions??, esme doesnt exist (still love her tho)

wc: 2.1k

cut for length!

you drove into town in your dad's truck, old and slow. your family hated going into town, and you never understood why, which is why you were on a sort of errands run for them. of course you knew of the cullens in all of their vampire-ness but you never found it as much of a problem, what were the chances you'd run into them anyways?

the laundry list of things to do was long, longer than you'd expected, so last minute you called your friend jess to help keep you company on your long day ahead of you. you picked her up from her cute but humble house and headed towards the first place on your list, newton's olympic outfitter's. "aren't you and one of the newton boys together? mike, right?" you asked as you looked at the list on the seat next to you while pulling out of jess' driveway. it'd been awhile since the last time you'd hung out even though you considered jess to be one of your closer friends, the reservation didn't get good enough phone reception to call as frequently as she wanted.

"uh, no, we broke up actually," she mumbled quickly from the passenger seat next to you. "oh, damn, sorry. what a bitch," you added the last part jokingly, trying to cheer up from the topic. you both laughed it off and continued the drive until you got there, continuing your conversation as you walked into the store. "i just need to get a few things for my sibling(s) and dad, shouldn't take too long," you assured her as you quickly found the first thing on your list. the day went mostly like this, stopping by random shops for the few odd items before the final store on the list, just getting a few groceries that are cheaper to buy in forks. you entered the store and followed the routine as normal, getting whatever you needed and getting out as soon as possible.

caught up in your conversation with jess, you hadn't even noticed the small red car speeding through the parking lot. everything happened so fast all you can remember is walking with jess, hearing her scream, and then being on the ground of the parking lot. "tyler! what the fuck is your problem!" jess yells, you only vaguely hear it before she rushes over to help you sit up. "at least call an ambulance asshole, don't just stand there with your door open!" you heard her yell again before she started to check on you.

before you knew it, you were being taken into an ambulance and rushed to the hospital. the hospital. a shiver runs down your spine and you hear the heart rate monitor pick up its beeping as you realized you're going to the one place in forks where you have been forbidden to go by your family.

you start panicking, trying to get out of the ambulance in any way you can.

"hey, calm down, we're going to put you under for the rest of the ride, okay? we can't help you if you don't let us," you hear the nurse in the back with you say after trying to get you to stop freaking out.

you woke again in a hospital bed, the smell of medicine invading your nostrils immediately and making you sneeze.

"ah, you're awake, and just in time. the doctor's on his way right now." the same female nurse says before finishing up on writing your vitals and waiting for the doctor. your heart drops when you hear her mention him, no doubt it was carlisle cullen. what if he killed you in the hospital, right there, he probably had manipulation powers to make everyone think nothing happened.

"i don't need a doctor, i'm fine, let me go," you rush out as fast as possible while trying to sit up, the action only making you dizzy as the nurse gently laid you back down.

"once the doctor says you're fine you can leave. you only have minimal bruising and a few cuts, you'll be out of here in the blink of an eye," the nurse comforted you, and it seemingly worked as the heart rate monitor went back to normal. you took deep breaths, only a few minutes with the monster and you'd be able to leave and never go into forks again.

you heard footsteps approaching and turned your head to the door, the door knob turned and your heart dropped again, fear pulsing in your veins more than it ever has before. then he stepped into the room and you were filled with a new feeling, your heart started beating faster, and it was like you had tunnel vision on him and him alone. you couldn't hear the busy sounds of the hospital, and you surely didn't notice the nurse standing too close for your liking anymore. the first thing your brain registered was that the doctor had the best smell you've ever encountered, like vanilla, honey, and lavender all at once.

"-use me, sir?" the nurse said, only hearing the last part of whatever she was saying. you adjusted back to reality quicker than you wanted, then you noticed the doctor standing in front you, trying to get your attention for an unknown amount of time.

"cullen," was all you managed to squeak out, staring with wide eyes at the man in front of you. he was better looking than anyone you'd ever seen, like god himself graced the doctor's face. he wasn't what you expected from the stories you've been told. you were told his eyes were empty and loveless, but as you looked at him his eyes were warm and more full of love than a father seeing his newborn baby for the first time.

"i see you're from the reservation, brave of you to come here," his voice was angelic, like he was singing a song only for your ears to hear. you gave him an alarmed look before you could stop yourself, was he threatening you? was your pack right?

"what?" you stuttered out and you were met with a soft, too soft to be real, chuckle and a warm smile from the doctor. "i don't see many of you in the hospital, i was starting to think you've all been avoiding it because of me,"

"they have," your words came before your brain could filter them, his frown was quick and the cutest frown you've ever seen, the kind of frown that made you want to hold him and kiss it away. "sorry, just something the tribe elders told us to do, it's not like any of us hate you," you stumbled over your words, and lied through your teeth. some of the members of your pack hated the cullens like they'd been personally attacked by them. the smile on his lips made your heart skip a beat, which was well documented from the heart monitor you nearly forgot about.

the doctor, carlisle you think, shone a light in your eyes, and then checked your ears, and listened to your heartbeat. his hand was on your chest, and you're sure he could hear the affect it had on you.

"well, good news, you can be released and you already talked to the police so there's no need for you to stay." you didn't think it was possible but your heart dropped again, you'd almost wished you got hurt worse so you could spend more time with him. "i'll finish this paperwork and get it on file as soon as possible, you should be able to leave within the hour. is there anything else you need?" you barely heard the rest of his sentence, still focusing on the fact that you wouldn't be able to stay around the doctor for longer.

"um, would it be possible to talk to you? in private?" you asked sheepishly. you were 110% sure you were imprinting on him, and you were even more sure he was definitely a vampire. you didn't hear any heartbeat, and you were quick to notice his larger than normal canine teeth. your question was met with another warm smile that made your heart restart and a nod.

"yes, of course, let me get you unhooked from the equipment and i'll walk you to my office, okay?" his voice was soft and reassuring, like he knew what you were going through. there was no way he knew that much about werewolves, right? just as he said, he helped you get the various wires off and led you to his office. his door read 'doctor carlisle cullen', you had remembered his name correctly. he opened the door and held it open for you, the gentleman you could only dream of. he closed the door gently but swiftly behind himself.

"please, take a seat. what were you wondering about?" he asked sweetly as he took his own seat and set a few papers before himself. you didn't plan to get this far, you hadn't figured out what you were going to say, so you just said what came to mind first, "i know you're a vampire," your words came out jumbled. he stared at you with a blank look, millions of thoughts racing through his head. you picked up on his reaction and rushed out the rest, "i'm not gonna expose you, everyone in the pack knows," hardly comforting, but better than him thinking you want to ruin his life. he let out a small noise of understanding, and that itself made your heart skip another beat.

"what is it you came here to tell me?" his voice was colder now, but still melodic like he planned his words for centuries.

"i'm sure you know about, you know, the whole werewolf thing," you paused as you spoke, looking at him to gather his reaction, and he nodded to signal you to continue speaking. "do you know anything about... imprinting?" you whispered the last word like it was poisonous.

"ah, you came to ask about that. i can try to help as much as i can, but wouldn't you prefer someone from your tribe to explain it to you?" carlisle's words were soft and understanding, with a hint of genuine curiosity.

"no, uhm, hold on i think i need a minute," you stuttered out, trying to figure out the least awkward way to explain you think he's your soulmate. you thought for a minute, carefully putting a sentence together before speaking again.

"doctor cullen," you started, "carlisle, i think i," your voice was caught in your throat, but you tried your best to finish you sentence. "i think i imprinted on you," you ripped off the band-aid and rushed it out. you stared at your shoes, though you'd rather be looking at carlisle's godly beautiful face. after a moment of silence you peeked a look at his face to gather if he was upset or not. you couldn't pinpoint the emotion on his face, shock? fear? anger? your heart started beating at an irregular pace again, "i-i'm so sorry, i'll go," you felt tears in your eyes and started to gather the small bag of belongings you were given before his voice stopped you.

"no, no, you're okay. i'm sorry, i didn't know that was possible," for once his words didn't seem as well thought out, it was jarring but his words flowed together as beautiful as always. "and you're sure?" he asked.

"yes, i think, i don't know. i haven't felt this way before, it's just like it was described to me. like you're the only person who actually matters anymore," you spoke freely, which surprised you.

"hm, well, i'm new to this too, we can figure it out together," carlisle's voice was warmer than ever, you felt like a blanket was being placed over you. you smiled and were going to stand up when he was suddenly standing right next to you, you jumped slightly and he let out a playful laugh, his laugh was beautiful, like angels singing in a choir. "apologies, forgot to warn you,"

you stood up and hugged yourself to him, his arms wrapped around you in the best hug you've ever had. he was cold, but you were sure you were warm enough for the both of you. you never wanted to separate from it, and let out a whine when he pulled away, surprising yourself more than you thought you could today.

"i'll tell the hospital something happened with one of the kids and we can talk about this more, if you're okay with it," you agreed quickly, the other patients could wait, how much trouble could happen in forks while you hog him for a little?

≻ ┄┄ ♡ ┄┄ ≺

#carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen x male reader #male reader #carlisle cullen x you #twilight x you #fluff

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octuscle · 2 years ago

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Hey Cronivac Support,

I dont trust myself with the settings so i am asking you. I am Half German and half Moroccan, and I look German af. Brown hair, brown eyes, big smile and a really white skin. I am thinking what would happen if my appearance were based on my Moroccan genes.

Can you help me out?

Brother, chill out! Have a shisha. Just ignore that there's German shit in your body. Your dick is circumcised. You pray at least once or twice a day. Friday you also go to the mosque… It doesn't matter if there are still German genes in you.

Thursday morning. You will survive the last school year at the Gymnasium. What comes after that, you don't know yet. Something with languages might make sense. Your mother tongues are Arabic, German and French. And you are actually quite good in English and Spanish at school. But you also enjoy science. First lesson today is chemistry. Stoichiometry. Actually very interesting. But somehow you have more and more problems to understand your teacher. When he approaches you, you start to stammer. You can't think of the right words. "Youssef, you are welcome to answer in English, if that is easier for you." You sigh in relief. German is really a difficult language. And even though you have a German grandmother, German was never spoken much at home….

During the break, you hang out with your brothers. Talk about soccer, cars, the usual stuff. Smoke an e-cigarette to go with it. And you make an appointment for the afternoon at the gym. Then it's off to the workshop at the vocational school. Metalwork. Hey, you're not training to be a car mechanic so you can mill toys out of metal plates. You want to become a car tuner. And create really hot cars. Your vocational school teacher is from Syria. Fled a few years ago. He speaks much better German than you do. You've only been in Europe for two years. Your mother had the French and the Moroccan passport, so you could immigrate relatively easily. But you didn't understand why you had to move to Germany. Some of your pals now live in Marseille. You would have found that cool, too… But Stuttgart? Just because your father found a good job as an engineer here at Mercedes? Anyway, you're a fighter, you'll survive Swabia.

Lunch is at the snack bar of a former colleague of your father. He has saved up enough money on the assembly line for his own snack bar. And now he makes the best falaffels in town. On weekends, you help out a little. You can always use the extra money. And that way you also get the food cheaper. Since you've been in training, you no longer get pocket money from your parents. You are the eldest son, you now have to do your share to feed the family. And if you are the first to have a vocational qualification here, your chances of getting a permanent right to stay are also the best. If only it weren't for this terrible language…

Gym, auto repair shop, vocational school, Gym…. Your daily routine is somehow always the same. Your boss is also a Muslim, from Turkey, so you have tomorrow afternoon off to go to the mosque. But you also have to work on Saturday. But you are grateful that you have the job. And you can afford your car and the gym. It was not easy to come to Europe. It cost your parents almost all their savings. And now it's your damn duty to succeed and support your family. For that you learn to be a car mechanic, for that you sell falaffel on weekends. That's why you mop the gym floors and clean the toilets at night. You even study German for that. However, this has already brought you a few thousand followers. Your picture from the last workout has 800 likes after just half an hour. Let's see, maybe new opportunities to become rich and famous will develop. You have the right gene pool!

Pic of your latest workout found @tufas

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #male transformation #muscle transformation #race change

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the-great-knight-gay · 4 months ago

Text

Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man Review: Episodes 1 and 2

I've just watched the first two episodes of YFNSM and I have one thing to say...

I was fucking right. It's not a bad show.

In fact, its pretty decent especially so far.

Full review under the cut: *SPOILER ALERT*

Characters:

One of the MOST important factors this show needed to get right was the characters and BOY DID THEY.

Let's start with the supporting cast.

Harry Osborn is the character with the least screen time so far (his only appearances being the 'Good Deed' clip in Amazing Fantasy and a shot of him on television in The Parker Luck) so there isn't much to say about him yet.

Next is Pearl Pangan, a character who hasn't shown up much outside of being Peter Parker's older crush who seems like a genuinely nice person. She also seems to be a less academically inclined version of Liz Allen-Toomes from Spider-Man: Homecoming (by which I mean that Liz was the captain of the Academic Decathlon and Pearl hasn't really had any scenes that show she has that level of intelligence). The similarities between the two characters are high so it might lead to people asking, 'Why not just reuse Liz?'.

The answer is, why not? Reusing Liz would have been fun but she doesn't add much to the story (at least yet) and the usage of Pearl has quite a few positives. One, it raises awareness about some lesser known Marvel characters (Pearl is a minor super hero and an Agent of Atlas called Wave) and it allows for different stories to be potentially told in the future. This is the same reason they used Nico Minoru rather than a character like MJ or Gwen, both of which he met in College btw not High School - pretty much all Spider-Man media since the first Ultimate Spider-Man comics have decided his ENTIRE supporting cast should be in high school with him. Personally the easiest way to rectify that imo is to just make an adaptation where he's in college or got a job already (adapt the JMS run marvel I dare you) but one can hope.

The characters in the Oscorp Internship where also a fun nod to characters in comics (looking at you Amadeus Cho aka Totally Awesome Hulk/Iron Spider depending on the adaptation) and Carla Conners was a fun addition (also I better not see anyone hating on her for being a genderswapped and raceswapped version of Curt Conners - there is no part of Dr Conners character that is negatively affected by these changes - its still the same character)

May seems to be very similar by the MCU version (which makes sense) so nothing much to say there yet.

Norman is a character we haven't seen yet in MCU media outside of Willem Dafoe reprising his role from the Raimi movies and I am LOVING it. Colman Domingo is FANTASTIC in the voice role, bringing just the right amount of menace and authority to his voice. All I need now is for him to be able to play crazy and we can get a potentially amazing Green Goblin when the time comes (also his design is just *chefs kiss*)

Next is the character that might actually interest me the most.

Lonnie Lincoln.

Anyone who has seen The Spectacular Spider-Man (or read my screenplay on ao3 - sorry for the promo but I don't get many chances to advertise it) will know who he is. Tombstone, a vicious gangster and mob boss and in this show, he's... an American football player.

And I love it.

Saying that he's been just put into the 'nice jock' category, while accurate, does not think to scratch the potential of this character. There is a scene where he's walking home and it's revealed he lives in a rough neighbourhood. In that same scene, we see that he is helping his family out in quite a few ways (for example the part where he offers to help his little brother with homework) but the part that stuck with me was with his mother when he said that he'd talked to someone about fixing their car and how to get a cheaper price for it.

Money problems.

What I'm thinking they're doing is they aren't showing Tombstone as a mob boss. No. They're showing his descent from upstanding citizen and star American football player to gang violence. We already see that they've planted the seeds and we know they're going for the long haul with this show (It's been greenlit all the way up to season 3 already) so I'm incredibly excited to see Lonnie's arc play out, especially if we're going to get Tombstone by the end of it.

"Cold as Ice. Hard as marble. What else would you call a Tombstone?"

Next, we have the main character himself. Peter Parker. The Amazing Spider-Man.

This might be their best achievement yet in the show. They have Peter's dorky attitude and nerdy demeanour down to a T and it's so fun to watch. He's also a genuinely good person, just how Peter should be. A scene that stands out is the scene where he's caught a shoplifter who's broken down and crying in his eyes and he looks at them and he doesn't see a criminal. No. He sees someone who was down on their luck and asks the shop owner to give them a second chance if they give back the money they stole. It's beautiful and it's so very... Spider-Man. This is the exact kind of thing Spider-Man should be. A friendly guy who's just in the neighbourhood. It's a scene that's very reminiscent of Tom Taylor's Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man in all the best ways. (also the shop that was stolen from is called Pizza Time and that's already the best thing ever)

Animation:

Okay so some people have been saying the animation of this show isn't very good which I can say is not an unfounded concern. The effort the show has taken to emulate the original Ditko comics have had a slightly detrimental effect to some of the series.

There aren't as many background extras used in an attempt to mimic the original comics and lots of the shots don't use typically cinematic shading, opting instead to use brighter and slightly less rendered shots to emulate the older style. In some ways, this is actually really cool if you can appreciate the attempt to mimic the 60s style but it can be quite off putting for some people which I can respect.

There are also some issues with the 3d models. The characters mouths don't always move directly in sync and sometimes, for when they do use background extras, they are just 2d images in the back which can be quite unsettling when standing in the same shot as 3d models (there is one scene at a party where Nico is on the phone with Peter and in the background there's a completely unmoving 2d person who's eyes just seem to follow Nico and its quite unsettling).

HOWEVER, there are some incredibly beautiful shots too. Some shots are a direct mimic of older MCU shots from Peter's first introduction in CA:CW like the opening shot and final scene of the first episode which stand out as incredibly well done.

The best part of the animation is easily the web swinging which is so well done and one of my favourite parts of this version of Spider-Man so far. His movement is rough and unrefined as it should be for a Year One: Spider-Man but it is very reminiscent of the Insomniac Games style swinging (which in my personal opinion has the best web swinging in Spider-Man media since The Amazing Spider-Man 2) and it is INCREDIBLY fun to watch when it occurs. They actually focus some time on the web swinging too unlike some other adaptations which see him shoot a web and then THWIP out of the camera frame so we get to really see the extent of this web swinging.

Story:

This is the one where I probably have the least to say, mainly because we're only 1/5 of the way into the season so far and we haven't actually gotten much of the story revealed yet. However, it definitely has a LOT of potential.

Episode 1 establishes that the Spider that bit Peter came from a portal (alongside this universes version of Doctor Strange who is fighting a demon looking creature which is credited as Symbiotic Alien - Klyntar easter egg?????) which might be slightly different to some people but to me this gives me a heavy JMS vibes.

JMS wrote for Spider-Man from 2001 to 2007 and created what became the foundation of the Spider-Verse by introducing the Spider-Totems to the Marvel mythology. He said that the powers that Peter received did not come from the radiation, but the spider itself. The radiation is just what killed the spider. It was never even stated that Peter was the intended recipient of the powers and was hinted that maybe he was just in the right place at the right time when the spider died, which really hammers home the idea that anyone can be behind the mask.

The spider coming from a portal which also brings a symbiotic alien that looks hauntingly similar to Shathra (also a character introduced by JMS that returned to the Spider-Verse in Dan Slott's End of Spider-Verse story line) hints that maybe YFNSM is taking a similar approach to JMS , which is always a good thing. I mean that man wrote Back In Black. (OMD and Sins Past were editorial and should not be credited to JMS despite it being his run people)

Now in terms of the rest of the story, we haven't gotten many hints yet but there is a scene where Spider-Man fights Butane and sees a symbol on his gauntlet that looks hauntingly similar to the number 8. You know what has 8 limbs?

An octopus. Specifically, Doctor Octopus.

We already know Doc Ock is in this show. My theory is that Butane's gauntlets were made by him but my main piece of evidence that tells me that he's the final villain?

The final episode of the season is called 'If This Be My Destiny...'

ITBMD is one of the most famous Spider-Man comics of all time and the panel where Spider-Man lifts the heavy machinery of his body has become legendary. It was used in multiple adaptations of Spider-Man, including Spectacular and Homecoming. Doctor Octopus is also the main villain of that storyline.

Norman Osborn seems to be a character that they're setting up as a main villain for the complete show but not the main season just yet, similar to how the insomniac games treat him. They seem to be putting Doc Ock as the first big villain and then following up with Norman later down the line, maybe around Season 3.

All in all, this show is shaping up to be an incredible adaptation. What are your thoughts?

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litmot-archived · 9 months ago

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Two Weeks

Alex x Reader

You continue sharing an apartment with Alex after he breaks up with you. The past weighs heavily.

“So is this going to be us intensely avoiding each other for as long as I stay here or—?” Alex let his sentence trail off. You did not turn around to face him, silently continuing to make yourself a cup of tea.

It was only for two weeks, after all. Two weeks, and you would be rid of him forever.

Kicking him out of the apartment had felt like a cruelty you could not bring yourself to do to him. Two weeks had felt like nothing at all, considering the two years you had been together with him. You could continue living with him until his flight went to the US — at least you told yourself you could.

“What do you want me to say?” you replied dismissively, picking up the cup and turning to face him. “Did you expect everything to stay the same?”

“No!” he said exasperatedly.

His hair was disheveled. You knew he ran his hands through it repeatedly when he was frustrated. The thought that the situation weighed as heavily on him as it did on you offered you at least a little comfort.

You took a sip of your tea.

“But I thought we could at least be civil — be friends, even!”

You could not help the incredulous laugh from slipping past your lips. “Friends?” you said, with a humorless chuckle. “Honestly Alex, you’re delusional. What did you think would happen? You broke up with me, telling me you were leaving the country in less than a month! What—? Do you think my life is a joke? Where do you think I— How am I supposed to afford this place alone? Did you think of that, huh? When you told the whole world that you got a prestigious job offer on the other end of the world, did you maybe consider that you were throwing me off the deep end with literally no warning?”

Alex blinked, opening his mouth to reply. He frowned. “You’re well off,” he said, sounding confused. “I never thought that this might be a problem for you. I— I can help you out with rent, I think.”

You shook your head, the fight leaving you with a deep sigh. “Don’t kid yourself,” you said, cradling the warm cup in your hands, “you might make enough to support yourself, but apartments in the States aren’t any cheaper than they are here.”

He sighed as well, leaning against the doorframe and biting his lip. “I’m sorry,” he said, suddenly sounding small. “I— I swear I didn’t mean to. There was just so much going on that I didn’t consider something so fundamental. I mean, I was uprooting my whole life, losing the person I loved” — the past tense stung — “I didn’t consider how leaving would be a financial problem for you.”

You waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll figure it out,” you mumbled.

Despite things seeming bleak — finding an affordable apartment in London in two weeks was next to impossible — you were confident that everything would click into place eventually. You could support yourself independently. Working at the law firm gave you enough stability to be alright without him.

“What you did hurt me more than anything,” you said quietly, staring into your tea. “Part of me understands your reasoning, but being the last to know about the job offer you planned to accept from the beginning when your decision affected my life so much, felt like a betrayal.”

“I know,” he said, rummaging through a cupboard and pulling out a packet of his favorite biscuits. “After you accused me of cheating, I couldn’t— I couldn’t see you the same way.”

“You know I said that on a whim, right?” you said, looking at him. “It was a stupid accusation, and I didn’t believe it when I said it. You were gone so often that I didn’t know how to express my frustration. I thought you would deny it and move on, seeing it as the overreaction that it was. Instead—” you trailed off. “I didn’t know it would hurt you so much.”

He scoffed, taking a bite of his biscuit. “I can’t imagine anyone would brush off such an accusation. How would you have felt?”

“I see that now. Still, just because you were hurt and angry at me, it did not give you the right to shut me out completely like you did. I get that you thought our relationship had changed, but you did not even talk to me about it.”

“I couldn’t, you were too fixed on Natalie!” he said, raising his voice in frustration. “Every time I tried to talk to you, you made some snide comment about how ‘I was always with Natalie’ or how I was ‘going to go see Natalie,’ when I was working on my career! Do you remember what we said when we first met? Our career always comes first. Always!”

“Yes, but I didn’t love you back then!” you screamed. “How— what are we even comparing? I want to further my career. I would seize every opportunity, but never at the expense of our relationship! I— I always thought we would make it work. I imagined you flying from Paris to New York to take snapshots for magazines that would pay a fortune to have your amazing pictures, but you would be a phone call away when I lost a case. You would be here to give me a victory kiss when I won a tough one.”

“Yeah,” he said, holding out the packet of biscuits. You shook your head, and he gave you a sad smile. “I guess life doesn’t work out how we want it sometimes.”

You looked at him for a long moment, trying to find the person you so loved under the cloud of animosity that had hidden him away lately.

“You know,” you began, taking a sip of your tea to gather the strength for the words you were about to say, “we could still try to work it out if you would be open to giving us another chance.”

Alex bit his lip, searching your gaze. He opened his mouth to reply.

His phone rang, the caller flashing brightly where it lay on the kitchen table. Natalie. “Sorry, let me just—” he said, picking up the call. “We’ll talk later. I need to take this. Hello?”

Your face fell. “Don’t bother,” you mumbled, watching him leave the kitchen.

Two weeks. You could do two weeks.

#sakuverse #zsakuva #alex zsakuva #alex x reader #alex

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destinyc1020 · 4 days ago

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Oh the Denzel quote is interesting n i have a lot of thoughts. Michaels been a top actor for awhile so atp i dnt think he really needs to engage in social media as much rn. Bt i look at someone like Z who was obvs on Disney bt built a following at the beginning of her career by using socila media a lot. Then once she got more acclaimed roles (n prb just got tired of being online), dsnt use it as much bcuz shes a A lister now. Denzel is from a different era where social media wasnt important, now it is. I have no idea if the young actor from Sinners (who sings) is on social media bt he could use social media to his advantage esp since he is a singer and actor. If you have different interests/talents than just being a actor, i think social media can help with that (Dua Lipa has a book club thats become a business). I would assume some type of social media following can help you get brand deals quicker, if that smthn a newbie is interested in. I think some actors can also do too much posting-take Sydney, who i think can lay off on the posts esp since shes a top young actor. You dnt want yr IG to look yr an influencer instead of a actor.

I totally agree with every single thing you said!

While I would rather prefer an actor just not be on social media at all vs. posting all the time like an annoying influencer and attention-seeking weirdo 🙄 , at the same time, we're not in the 90s, we're in 2025, and unfortunately, social media is here to stay, and it has a great influence on casting decisions for SOME studios, especially if they want to ensure butts in seats for their movie.

I follow Michael, and I feel like he has a great balance on his social media account. He posts work-related stuff, but he also posts some personal stuff too, once in a while. He doesn't do too much. He's not cringey lol.

But if he wants to post less, then that wouldn't be bad either I guess? I just think that for poc, it's already hard anyway to get recognized in this industry. With Michael's track record, he really should be more of a household name than he is (jmho), but it's Hollywood, so, ya know. 🙄

Listen.... I'm all for an actor doing WHATEVER they want to do, and whatever makes them feel most comfortable. Even if posting a little more would help boost their image or popularity a bit more, I'm not going to say that an actor HAS to do anything, because let's be honest, not every actor out here wants to be a superstar. Some just wanna act and don't really want immense fame. They want to just still be able to live life normally or at least relatively normally lol.

So, whatever makes an actor most comfortable is what I'm fine with. If an about doesn't want to own social media, or rarely wants to post, then that's their right, and I fully respect that.

At the same time, I do agree with Denzel as well to some degree. It's like the old saying, why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? 👀🤷🏾‍♀️ If an actor makes themselves TOO overly accessible, at the same time, it can lessen or cheaper their brand. This is probably why "movie stars" have kind of lessened in number.

When you can easily check your favorite celebrity's social media page, or see a glimpse into their private life that they post, or easily take photos with them while they're out and about and then post it to your feed for all the world to see, it makes them seem more ATTAINABLE. And movie stars were always UNattainable. That's what made them so special. We weren't on their level.

Now, actors are so attainable that we feel like we're on THEIR level now, and in some way, it makes them less glorious. We can now buy soap with their bathwater, and we now have fans asking actors for their phone numbers while out and about rofl 🤣 😆 😂

It's crazy!! 🤪

Anyway, i totally see what Denzel is saying, and in a lot of ways, he's right! The problem is, he's coming from an angle of an older generation where the world was a lot different back then. Newer/younger actors may have to play a slightly different game. The road to fame is slightly different these days.

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bluesest · 9 months ago

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Hello. I had an idea for a while. A guy named Jorge with a plump bubble butt unknowingly ingested dairy when he's lactose intolerant and suffers nasty explosive diarrhea all day and shits himself at least three times in the same day.

A Lactose Distract

Jorge was a young sportsman and independent, he lives alone so he takes care of the household chores such as cleaning, cooking and shopping.

Every end of the month, Jorge goes to a supermarket where he is in charge of buying groceries from home, he made sure that they have enough protein to maintain and grow his muscle mass even more, he had barely been in a local gym for a month and his muscles were still not marked, He always thought the gym would be the same as sports, but he found it even harder to see results, aware that it only takes a short time for him to expect more from his body.

He concentrated on taking foods such as red meat and fish, great foods to support his development, or well, that's what his coach told him, another food was dairy that helped by providing calcium, however, he could not afford to eat this type of food because he was lactose intolerant.

Jorge struggled with this problem since he was a teenager, one of his habits was to eat ice cream every Sunday but little by little this generated problems: first gas that gained a terrible smell and that used to last a long time, then stomach pains such as colic and finally an incredible desire to evacuate his bowels, he remembered how one of those days when trying to fart he literally shit himself with thick and bad diarrhea This problem continued until his lactose intolerance was detected, and from that moment on, Jorge dedicated himself to taking care of his diet.

He used a dairy replacement, i.e., lactose-free products such as lactose-free milk, among others. Whenever he went shopping, he made sure to check his milk cartons and read his labels.

This specific day he bought 3 cartons of lactose-free milk, next to him was an old woman who bought regular milk, she left her shopping cart next to Jorge's while he was distracted by seeing a sign with the week's offers, the old woman got confused about her cart and took Jorge's (both shopping carts only carried milk cartons).

Jorge turned to look at his new cart and confidently did not check its contents, ready to continue with the shopping day. An hour passed and he was already paying when the first warning flashed, the milk had an irregular price, that is, cheaper, but he did not give it importance and thought that it was just an offer that he did not realize existed.

He came home and restocked his fridge with all the food he bought, sat down to watch TV, and fell fast asleep.

After a three-hour nap Jorge got hungry, he took cereal with milk and helped himself to two dishes, they had a different flavor, a sweeter one, but again he didn't think about it, he thought: "Maybe now they put more sugar in this cereal"

An alarm distracted him from his thoughts, it was his digital hand watch, it only meant one thing: his daily jog to the park. He dressed in black leggings and a gray shirt, grabbed his phone and headphones, and jogged out of his house, but without first making himself a milkshake to drink in the park and relax.

He reached the halfway point when he stopped, ignored the music on his phone and closed his eyes: *GRRRRRRRRRRRRR* that was the sound that generated his stomach, it was so loud that Jorge managed to hear it even with his headphones on, took his arm and began to feel his stomach.

"Ufffffffffff, what was that? Am I hungrier? It's a good thing I save my milkshake for problems like these."

He took his thermos out of a small bag he was carrying and finished taking it all in one sip, his stomach stopped his annoying noises and Jorge decided to continue with his daily jog.

When he arrived at the park his stomach rumbled again, but this time a small pain invaded his body, he stopped and this time he turned off his headphones and put them away, put his hands on his hip and looked at the sky closing his eyes: "I don't think it's hunger... I've already eaten a lot in a very short time, but my stomach feels so bad..."

His back bent and he bent down keeping his hands on his hips and his eyes closed *GGGRRRRRR* "What's happening to me... I'm sweating a lot...?" he lifted his head *GRGRGGRGRGR* "I feel... Feel... something inside my stomach, could it be...?" he opened his eyes and relaxed his stomach... *pftftfftft* "uuggghhhh, I had a fart stuck *GRGRGGGRRRR* and I think I have another one... *PPFFTTFTFpfptptf* this one was even worse, ufffffff yes it sucks *GRGRGRGGRRGR* Oh no, here comes a big one"

*PFPPPTFPTPPTPTFTPF* *PRPRRPPSPSS* *PFFFTT*

Time froze, Jorge opened his eyes as wide as he could and led his left arm to his stomach and his right to his bubble butt, it was real, the unthinkable happened, an adult shit his pants:

"Oh no no no no, how could this happen? What should I do? I didn't even feel like going to the bathroom!"

*GGGRRRRRRRRRRRRR*

"But now I can feel it."

He repositioned his arms and running with all his might fled the park, he didn't want people to find out what happened through the terrible smell that enveloped his body, from afar you couldn't visualize any stain thanks to the dark color of the leggings, however, if you pay attention you can see a small lumpy bulge on the back of the tight pants.

*GGRGRGRGGRGRGRGRGR* *GRGRGGRGRGRGR*

"Not again, please!"

*PFPPFPFFPFPTPTPTPTPTPTPTPTFPF*

"UGH"

*PRRRRRRRRR*

"I don't understand, that I could have eaten enough for this to happen to me, I hadn't shit my pants since I was a teenager!"

*GRRRRRRRRRGRGGRGRGRGRGRGR*

Sweating and with his tired legs he managed to visualize his house in the distance, when he touched his garden he felt an annoying stomach pain that prevented him from continuing running, Jorge felt that the shit was approaching his back door trying to knock it down and come outside, with each movement the rancid mixture turned and hit Jorge's large intestine.

He took the same position as before, one arm to his stomach and the other to his butt to apply pressure to prevent his underpants from ending up in a big mess and shaking, Jorge grabbed the keys to his house and quickly opened the front door.

"I must get there, I can't hold on, WHY THE HELL DID THEY BUILD THE BATHROOM BY GOING UPSTAIRS?! ugghhhhhh"

*PFTFTFTFTFTFTTFTTFTTFTF*

Climbing the stairs was quite a challenge, his diarrhea was struggling to get out and his tense and tired muscles were not strong enough to try to climb the stairs by jumping or running, but despite this Jorge managed to reach the top and dazzle the open bathroom door.

He arrived, left his bathroom door open, pulled down his tight leggings and underpants with various proofs of the stomach mess, and sat down on the neat, clean porcelain.

*PPFFPPTPPTFPTPFTPPTPFPTPPPPT* *PRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRP* *SQHHSHQSSHHQSQHSHHSHSQHSQHSQHSQ* *PFFTTFTFTFTFTFT*

Jorge lived alone, so he didn't limit himself to containing whatever was wrong with his stomach.

*PRPPRLLLTLTLTLTLLTLTLTLTLT* *BRLLARRSRASAPPAPPAPPAPPAPPABRLRLRLRR* *PRRRRRRRRRRRRRR* *PLOP* *PLOP*

"Oh it can't be, what did I eat enough for this to happen to me?, and why right in the park?!"

*BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR* *SQUASHSHHSSHSHSHSSS* *GRRRRR* *PFFFFFFTTFTFTFTTF* *PRPRPRPRSQHBQHSHSQHHSQHQHQ* *SHHHHHHHHHHH*

"Oh... no, something is coming..."

*PRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPR* *HQSHSHSHQHSHQSHQ* *BKERKEBRKBEBEKEKLREEEEE* *RRRRRRRRPSSSSSSSSTRTRTTRR* *PFFFTTT* *PLOP* *PFFTFTFTFTFTFTTF* *PLOP*

"Aghhhh, I think I'm done"

Jorge took a large piece of toilet paper, folded it and slowly and carefully passed it on his burning butt, and before throwing the first piece away, Jorge stood up with his butt in the air and looked down in the toilet, the accumulated fecal material was disgusting, thick and full of lumps with a dark brown color, Jorge could swear he saw a bubble.

He sat back down and finished his work by using up half a roll of paper, flushed the toilet and left the stinking bathroom, leaving the door open for the rotten smell to disappear.

He sat down on the couch in his living room and grabbed a washcloth to wipe his sweat: "What the hell was that, I hadn't felt bad in the morning, I watch my diet, is it something in my trainer's new diet?"

*GRRRRRRRRRRR*

"Oh! My stomach is really burning inside."

*PFFFTTTT* *GRRRRRR*

"I'm so gassy, ugh, I think a nap wouldn't hurt me..."

*PPFFFFFFFFFTTTTT*

"And so I think my stomach is going to relax."

Jorge went back up the stairs with his hands massaging his stomach, he undressed, got to his room and lay down dropping on the bed, closing his eyes and with one last fart his mind shut down closing his eyes.

2 hours later...

*GRRRRRRRRRRR*

Jorge opened his eyes in a cold sweat, lifted his back and massaged his stomach again, the great pain and stomach roars lifted him, the sweat consumed him covering every part of his body especially his big butt and between legs.

Jorge looked down to see his weakened stomach, but something underneath alarmed him, he pulled his butt away and saw something terrifying: a giant brown stain covering the white blankets of his beloved bed.

Jorge was going to scream until a stabbing pain came over him:

*GGRGRGRGRGRGRGRGGRG*

"Oh God!"

He jumped up from his bed and ran naked to his bathroom without success because little by little wet gases came out of him, staining his ass more with dry shit:

*PPFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTTF*

*BRBRBRBRBRBBR* *PFPFPTPTPFTPTT*

*PRRRRRRRPFFTFTF*

"I can feel melted lava mixing with trash inside my rectum!"

Almost slipping, Jorge reached the prized toilet which retains the smell and small brown marks marked on the porcelain from the previous visit to his bathroom.

And with his butt stained, he sat down and freed his stomach a second time:

*PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTFTFTTFTFTFTTFTFTGFTTF* *HQHSHQHHQSHHSQHSQHSQ* *PRPRPRPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR* *SHSHHSHSHSHPFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTSQQASGGSSSAS* *TRTRTRTRTRTRTR* *BLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRPRRRRR*

"AHHHHHHH, how is this a possible thing?"

*HSHSHSHSHSHSHSQHHSQSQSS* *FFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTRRRRRRRR* *PSPSPSTGHGHGHGHGHGHG* *DRDRDRGRRRRR* *RRRRRRRRRRHRHRHRHHRHHR* *PFTFTFTFTFTFTTFTTFTFFTTF*

Jorge turned his head back, his forehead swam in sweat and his butt was quite sore, there must be a cause for all this, it's not normal diarrhea he wondered until he remembered the cereal he ate:

"It could be..."

*BLRLRLRLTTTRTRTRTTRTR* *POPFTFTFTTFTFTF* *TRTRTRTRTTRTRTRTRTRT* *SHSHHSHSHSHSHSHSHS*

"I have to investigate... But first I need a bath."

Jorge got up from the toilet which thanks to the sweat combined with the dried shit of his butt left stains all over the lid, his clean toilet now looked like one that belongs to a gas station in the middle of the desert where only greasy truckers go.

He took two steps and entered the bathtub, relaxed and let the clean water cover his body replacing the sweat and shit, brown water accumulated and disappeared on Jorge's feet and with a sigh of relief he dried himself with a soft towel and left the tub without first farting.

"I don't think this will end anytime soon..."

He went downstairs when again he felt the pain of an approaching diarrhea, but this did not stop him, he reached the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, checked the cereal and there was nothing strange about it, this gave him a clue to the origin of the problem, Jorge refused to think what he thought it was and bravely took one of the cartons of milk and the news did not hit him, literally:

*GRGRGRGRGRGRGRGRRGRGRGRG*

"So this is responsible for the diarrhea I have!"

*GRGRGRGRGGRGRGRGRGGRGRGRGRGGRGRGRGRGRRR*

"I can't believe it! How did it happen?"

*GRRRRRRRR* *PFFFFFFTFTFTFTFTF*

"I must throw away all this milk... and... I MUST GO TO THE BATHROOM."

Jorge dropped the carton of milk spilling on the floor, with both hands he held his bare butt and started running with all his might:

*PFPPTPTPPTPFPPTPTPTF*

*PRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPR*

*PPFPTPTPPPFTPPPPPT*

"Come on, stay inside, don't explode!"

He climbed the stairs, but a misstep eventually led him to lose his strength and:

*SPLASH* *PRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR* *HQSHHQSHSH*

Jorge shit on the stairs, his ass exploded spilling thick brown lava, he was embarrassed, but he still continued on his way letting drops of liquid shit leak out of his tight and strong ass that tried to prevent more shit from staining the stairs without any success.

Walking like a penguin, Jorge finally got to the bathroom, he saw that the toilet lid was still stained, he didn't have time to clean it, but he doesn't have time to clean it now, he slowly put his butt in the dirty toilet and relaxed:

*SQUSQHUSQHHQSHSQUAHSHASHSAHUASASSSJHSSHSHSH* *TRTRTRTTRTRTRTTTTTTRTRTRTRTRTRR* *PFPTPFFPPPTPFPTPFPTPFPPTT* *BRLRLRLRRBRLRLRRRRR* *PTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFT*

"AAAAHHHHHH WHY?"

*FPPTPPTPPFPFPPTTPFFPT* *PSJSJQJSJASPALSSPLASH* *FFFFFFFTTFTFTFTFTFTFTF* *BRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRB* *GRGGRGRGRGRGRGRGRGR*

"Personal note, check purchases before paying... AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH"

*BRRRRRRRRRRRR* *PLOP* *PLOP* *PLOP* "PRPPRPRPRPRPRPRP" *SHHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHS* *TRTRTRTRT* *LRBRRLBTLRLRLTRTLLTB*

"I think ... Forget it!"

*PFTFTFTFTFTFT* *GRGRGRGRGRGRGGRRRRRR* *HDHJQHHJHQDDJHDDH* *PLOP* *SQHQSHHQSHQSQSQ* *TOC* *PLOP* *TLOC* *PFTFTFTFTFTTFTFTFTFTFT*

After 30 minutes Jorge was finally able to get up and set out to clean his bathroom and stairs being interrupted by occasional diarrhea, when everything calmed down he threw the milk in the trash.

#diarrhea #farts #coprophilia #desesperation #Lactose #Intolerance #milk

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