#what is life but a waste of ones resources

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

It started with a plane crash. A fiery wreck over Washington, the kind of tragedy that demands real leadership, real answers, real action. But what did we get? Donald J. Trump—our twice-impeached, four-times-indicted, spray-tanned emperor of grievance—pointing a greasy, ketchup-stained finger at “diversity.”

Never mind the grueling, years-long training required to become an air traffic controller. Never mind the chronic staffing shortages, the overworked employees grinding six days a week, and the outdated facilities running America’s airways into the ground. No, according to Trump, the real problem was that the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) had dared to hire people who weren’t white enough.

"This is just one reason why our Country WAS going to hell!!!" he screamed into the digital void, frothing at the mouth like a man who just discovered his Diet Coke button had been disabled. He ranted about “brilliant people” being replaced by “diversity hires,” as if air traffic control is some kind of woke art project instead of an actual life-or-death job.

And if that wasn’t enough, Trump took things further—because he always does. Like a vengeful god with a grudge against history itself, he unleashed a sweeping executive order banning the federal government from acknowledging that different kinds of people exist. Black History Month? Gone. Martin Luther King Jr. Day? Paused indefinitely. Juneteenth? Don’t even think about it. Holocaust Remembrance Day? Erased faster than a sticky note on Ivanka’s burner phone.

The message was clear: America’s government is now a safe space for people who want to pretend diversity never happened.

The Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA) dutifully fell in line, scrubbing its calendar of anything remotely inclusive. The Pentagon followed, declaring that "cultural awareness months" were now a thing of the past. The Office of Personnel Management sent out a grimly efficient memo ordering every department to purge “gender ideology” from public-facing websites by 5 p.m. sharp. No more pronouns in email signatures, no more employee resource groups, no more recognition of anyone who isn’t a straight, white, God-fearing man in a flag pin.

And just to hammer the point home, the Justice Department released a victory lap memo declaring DEI programs “shameful” and a “waste of taxpayer dollars.” Because apparently, nothing wastes money like hiring people who can actually do the job.

Even the CIA—an agency that relies on diversity for its literal survival—jumped on board. Former intelligence officials warned that strangling off diverse talent pipelines would cripple national security, depriving the U.S. of much-needed language skills and cultural knowledge. But who needs informed spies when you can have a monoculture of aging white men grumbling about the good old days?

All of this would be laughable if it weren’t so terrifying. This isn’t policy—it’s a tantrum. It’s Trump waging a personal culture war against reality, trying to bend the world back to a time when no one questioned his place at the top. He doesn’t want to govern; he wants revenge. Revenge against the ghost of Barack Obama, against the progress made under Biden, against the idea that America belongs to anyone other than the angry, paranoid voters who put him back in power.

And what about the people who actually keep the country running? The air traffic controllers working under brutal conditions? The intelligence officers risking their lives abroad? The civil servants trying to hold together a government that’s rotting from the inside? They get nothing. No support. No respect. Just a government-issued decree that their identities no longer exist.

Meanwhile, Trump is still expected to sign a proclamation for Black History Month—because nothing says deeply held values like banning an event on Monday and celebrating it on Tuesday. It’s a grift, a con, a flimsy cover for the fact that his only real goal is to make America feel like one of his golf courses: exclusive, overpriced, and entirely staffed by people he doesn’t have to think about.

This is the new reality. The federal government is no longer allowed to recognize the diversity of its own citizens. The air traffic controllers who keep our skies safe are being thrown under the bus in the name of racial resentment. And Trump, as always, is playing to the cheapest seats, hoping his base is too blinded by rage to notice that none of this actually makes their lives better.

America isn’t going to hell. But under Trump, it’s going somewhere worse: backward.

(Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail)

[tuulikannel]

(part II)

The boy walked down the street, briskly. Every step that brought him farther away from that place made him feel lighter, and he would have wanted to run, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

“Good morning, Asano-kun!” someone still called at him in passing, and he waved his hand a little.

Asano-kun. Perhaps that really was his name. But if that man actually was his father… why had he called him that?

…perhaps because even he realized what a stupid name Gakushuu was and didn’t want to use it. The boy rolled his eyes a bit.

As the distance to the house grew, he started to calm down, and as he calmed down, he began to think. Maybe it had been a mistake to run away like that. He felt like he should have been able to handle this situation better. Now, he was out in the streets, without any idea where he was going. It was downright pathetic how he had allowed himself to be freaked out like that.

He patted his coat. There were a few bills and coins in one pocket, but that was all. He should have found more resources before he left. More money, or a credit card… he didn’t even have a phone. Well, that might be a good thing, at least they wouldn’t be able to track him via it.

They, he wondered as he spotted a bus and sprinted toward it, just about catching it. Who ‘they’? Who was he running from?

He used the coins to buy himself a ticket and sat down at the very end of the bus. The more he thought about it, the more he felt like he had been hasty to leave the way he did. Had there been a laptop in the room where he woke up? He thought so. He could have used that to do some research. On this ‘Asano Gakushuu’ who he supposedly was. Maybe on the man who claimed to be his father.

Now… he was on a bus on his way to god knew where, and all he had was – he dug all the money out of his pocket and counted it – 4203 yen. He would not get far with that.

Oh well. He sat back, watched the view from the window and let the bus carry him through this city he could have sworn he had never seen before. He got away, that was the most important thing.

He rode on the bus for half an hour, then decided to jump off. The bus had arrived at a busy business district, and he allowed himself to be swept away along the masses of people.

Was this his home city, he wondered as he watched the towering buildings and their flashing advertisements. Had he lived here all his life? Why couldn’t he remember a single thing? As big as the city was, of course, it was possible he hadn’t been to this part of it… but he doubted that. This seemed like a pretty central area.

He paused to look at a shop window with Christmas decorations. So it was December? No wonder it was quite chilly… good thing he had taken the coat. If only he had grasped some gloves too… He buried his hands into his pockets and once again cursed himself for leaving so hastily.

As he turned away from the shop window his eyes stopped on a café, and he realized he was a little hungry. True… he hadn’t had any breakfast. He fingered hesitantly the few bills inside his pocket. He shouldn’t waste them in a café… there were other places where he could get something to eat for much cheaper.

Even so he walked in. Big difference… he’d be out of money soon enough, anyway.

So, what should he order, he wondered as he stood in the line. Coffee? Did he like coffee? And if he did, what kind? Black…? Maybe… he had a feeling he took it as strong as possible.

“Latte, please,” he still heard himself saying when it was his turn. He also ordered a sandwich and waved a sad goodbye to a thousand yen bill.

The latte was good. It seemed to have been the right decision. He took his time eating, trying to form a plan. The lack of money was truly a problem. He would be able to spend one night at net café, maybe two, if he found a cheap one, but after that… he’d be broke. And that would leave no money for other things, like food. He took another bite of the sandwich, savoring its taste. It really had been stupid to buy all this, hadn’t it? At least he should have found a cheaper café.

Still… could he really expect that the situation would be somehow fixed in a day or two? Unlikely. He didn’t know much about amnesia, but even though he was quite sure it could be temporary, he didn’t even know what had caused his. He touched his head, carefully. It didn’t feel like he had hit his head. Brain damage was unlikely. He felt quite healthy, too, so a high fever most likely wasn’t the cause either. Seizure? Great shock?

He lowered his hands to the table with a sigh. Who knew. But given how severe this was, he couldn’t trust that it would simply go away just like that.

So what were his options? Go to the police, or to a hospital? But… if that man had told him the truth, wouldn’t they just send him back to the place he had just escaped…

But what else could he do? He needed money, but without any kind of an id, without address, without a name, where could he find work? He was a minor, too, and even though he could lie his age, that didn’t remove the other problems. Perhaps…

“Look at that!” a voice exclaimed. “Is Ace-kun skipping school?”

He looked up and saw a redheaded boy, about his age, approaching his table. There was something familiar about him. As he stared at the redhead, trying to remember a name, the boy plopped down to sit opposite to him, grinning widely.

“Or are you here for some important presidential business? Huh? Ace-kun?”

“Ace-kun,” he repeated, tasting the words and ignoring the rest of the nonsense the redhead had said. Hmm. Well, better than Gakushuu, maybe. “Why… do you call me that?”

The redhead tilted his head a bit, watching him curiously. “Huh? You seriously asking that? You, the Ace of Kunugigaoka?”

“Kunugigaoka,” he repeated, again rolling the syllables slowly on his tongue. That name… was not without a meaning. He just didn’t know the meaning.

He looked at the redhead and noted that underneath his black coat, he was wearing a school uniform similar to his. So, they went to the same school? Perhaps they even were classmates. Kunugigaoka… would that be the school?

“Can I borrow your phone?” he asked, and the redhead’s eyes widened a bit at the sudden question.

“My phone? Something wrong with yours?”

“I don’t have it with me.”

The other gave him a long look. Then he shrugged a little. “Sure. But I want to see what you do with it.”

He took the phone, nodding slightly, and opened a web browser. He typed in Asano Gakushuu, and the redhead snorted.

“What, you borrowed my phone to google yourself?”

He said nothing, just scrolled down the search results that were quite numerous. So it really was his name. And he seemed to be quite an accomplished person. And the student council president of Kunugigaoka… well, it all made sense to him.

He added ‘father’ into the search after his name, and sure enough, that man’s face appeared on the screen. Damn it. So that was true, too.

Apparently his father was the board chairman of the school, and had made himself name as a reformer of education. None of that explained why he felt like he should stay as far away as possible from this father of his.

He gave the phone away. “Thanks.”

The redhead took the phone, watching him curiously. “What’s going on?” he asked.

The boy gave him a long look. Until now, the redhead’s tone had had a mocking quality to it. This question was serious.

If only he remembered who this boy was. Someone he knew, definitely. Someone…who got on his nerves? But even so…

He bit his lip, considering. He truly didn’t have many options here.

“I need a place to stay,” he said quietly. “At least for a few days. You have any idea where I could go?”

The redhead stared at him. “Wait, you’re asking me? For real? Ace-kun is asking me for help?”

He sighed, a little annoyed. “I know,” he said, and he did know. “You’re… a bothersome person. But nevertheless, still someone I… respect. So…”

“Have you hit your head or something?”

The boy shook his head. “I considered it, but I don’t think so. But… please. I can’t go back… home.” It still felt wrong to refer to that place as home, but apparently it truly was that.

“Why?” the redhead asked, and he said nothing. It wasn’t like he could have explained it.

“Does this have something to do with that psycho father of yours?” the redhead went on as the silence stretched.

Psycho, huh. So perhaps his gut feeling wasn’t that wrong. “Perhaps,” he just said.

The other just kept on staring at him, amber eyes unblinking and sharp. “I just don’t get… why are you asking me of all people? Why don’t you go to those minions of yours?”

Minions, huh, he wondered, feeling a little disturbed. But he needed to say something.

“Just because of that,” he hazarded. “It’s… unlikely that anyone would ask you about me.”

“True.” He nodded slowly, but something about his eyes said that he wasn’t quite convinced. Then he grinned. “Well, I got to say I’m intrigued. So… sure. You can stay at my place.”

“Really?” He hadn’t been expecting that. “Are you sure your parents are ok with that?”

The redhead shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, they’re not home.”

“Thank you, then,” he said gravely, and for some reason the redhead frowned, giving him a long look. “That is a great help.”

“Hmm.” The other reached suddenly across the table, touching his forehead.

He pulled back a little. Why did everyone do that? “What?”

“Sorry, just wondering if you’ve a fever or something.”

“I do understand if you think I’m behaving weirdly,” he replied, and he did. His behavior must be quite different from usual. Most likely their relationship wasn’t that good… perhaps it had been a mistake to ask this boy for help. He would have to be careful with how much he told him. “There are reasons for everything… but I can’t tell you details yet.”

“Even though I’m taking you in, huh?”

“Yes,” he just replied levelly. “I’m sorry,” he added then. “I really am thankful.”

The redhead blinked. “Fine then, Ace-kun,” he said after a short silence. “You’re welcome, I guess? But I’m sure you know this… I’m gonna do my damnedest to uncover your secret.” He flashed him a wolfy grin.

The boy shrugged. “Fair, I guess.” In all honesty, he was mainly relieved. This took care of the immediate problem of finding a place to stay, anyway. “It sort of feels like fate, don’t you think,” he said thoughtfully. “You know… randomly meeting someone I know amid all these people.”

“Hmm. Maybe it’s just karma.” The redhead smirked a little, and it felt like this was some kind of a joke.

“What do you mean?”

A moment they stared at each other. The redhead blinked slowly. “You know… it is my name.”

“Karma?” he confirmed, just in case. The other frowned. Right. If they knew each other, he should have known his name. “Yeah… we both have sure been blessed with imaginative parents, haven’t we?” he just said dryly. “I’ve always found it hard to believe that actually is your real name… but I guess I’m not one to talk, huh?”

He wasn’t quite sure how well the redhead fell for his attempt to make it seem like he totally knew his name. At least the other – Karma – didn’t say anything.

He finished his latte. “Shall we go then? Or are you planning to get something?”

“Nah.” Karma shook his head. “I just came in cause I saw you in the window.”

They left the café. “So, you want to head straight away to my place, or…?” Karma asked.

He considered the matter. A place to stay, good. But money was still a problem. He should get some necessities, and it wasn’t like he could be wearing the same clothes day after day. Was it too much to ask Karma to get him something?

“Let’s go there for now,” he just said. He needed to think about all this.

So so so... I'm sick, and for whatever reason my brain decided that this is a good time to start writing an amnesiac Asano fic. I've so many other fics in the works that I don't know if I'll ever continue this, which is why I decided to post it here. Mainly I just had this one scene in my mind, and wanted to use this chance to have Shuu say something to his father.

But yeah. Here's a little untitled fic snippet for you, about 1000 words.

One cold December morning a boy woke up. He was lying on his back in a bed, and he remained there a good while, absolutely still, staring at the ceiling. Gradually, the frown on his face deepened.

Where… was he?

He sat up, looking at the room. A desk with schoolbooks on it, a bag on the floor, clothes set ready on a chair… were those his clothes? He touched them, hesitantly. There was something familiar about them, true…

Still confused, he decided to dress up. Whatever was going on, better not to face it in the pyjamas.

He gave the desk with the books one more glance and slipped quietly out of the room. The empty corridor behind the door was quiet and gloomy. He swallowed and started walking it down, instinctively stepping as quietly as he could. He took careful peeks into the rooms he passed, but there was nothing familiar in them, nothing to solve this mystery.

Ah, a toilet. That might be a good idea, no matter what was going on.

As he was washing his hands, his eyes fell on himself in the mirror, and he paused. Wait, was that what he looked like? Strawberry blond hair, violet eyes… He blinked, touching his cheek. Yeah. That was him.

Him…

He… who was he?

“My name is,” he started to say to his mirror image, but no name came to his tongue. “My name is,” he repeated more strongly, but to no avail. Nothing. His mind was empty.

His heartbeat sped up as he stared at himself, trying fervently to think. Who was he? Where did he come from? What did he do, what did he like?

He didn’t have a clue.

Also… what was this place he was in? His home? That would make sense, but… he pushed the toilet door open and shot a careful glance around.

This didn’t feel like home.

He didn’t know where he was, but he did know that he wanted to get out of there.

He came down the stairs, making his way slowly through the house, trying to spot a single detail that would seem familiar. Nothing. Step by step his nervousness rose, and he could feel his breath getting caught in his throat.

In the kitchen, there was a man sitting by a table, drinking coffee while reading something on his laptop. The boy paused at the doorway, wondering if he shouldn’t just go on, but the man had already noticed him. He gave the boy a curt glance.

“Sleeping late today, Asano-kun?” he said.

The boy blinked. “Asano… kun? Is that my name?”

The man lowered his coffee mug to the table, frowning at him.

“Is this some kind of a joke? Or are you implying you’re going to leave the family and pick a different name? Well, you’re free to do that once you’re an adult. For now, as long as you live in this house, you are still Asano Gakushuu.”

There was a long silence as the two stared at each other. The frown on the man’s face deepened as he looked into the boy’s eyes that reflected nothing but honest confusion.

“What are…?” he started to say, but the boy shook fervently his head.

“Are you serious? That’s my name? What the hell… why am I called ‘study’?”

“It’s written with the kanji for learning and excellence, you know,” the man started to explain, his tone hesitant, but the boy (Gakushuu? What the hell! He would not be called that) cut him off again.

“If that really is my name, I think I am gonna change it! It’s ridiculous!”

He was growing increasingly agitated. What was going on here? Was he caught in some strange nightmare? This house that made him so nervous, not to talk about this man… and that ridiculous name. This couldn’t be real.

“I’m dreaming,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. “This got to be a dream…”

A chair scraped against the floor as the man stood up. “Are you truly trying to say you can’t remember anything? Gakushuu?” A hand touched his forehead and he instinctively drew back. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring straight into the man’s. That unblinking, piercing stare made him feel cold inside, and he took another step back.

“Or is this some plot of yours?” the man went on, but he couldn’t really pay attention to what he was saying. Being so close to this man… made him even more nervous than this house. “What are you planning to accomplish? Amnesia is a serious matter, not something to joke about!”

“Who the hell are you, anyway?” the boy spat out, ignoring everything he had said.

The man paused. As he stared at the boy in front of him, the sterness on his face gave way to hesitation. “I… I’m your father,” he said then.

“No.” The boy denied it firmly, unhesitatingly, without even pausing to think about it. “No, you… you can’t be.”

“But…” Now the man seemed to be at a loss. Something about that amused the boy, but even so, he couldn’t help being on his guard. This man was dangerous. He knew that much.

“But,” the man repeated and swallowed. “If you don’t remember, how could you know…?”

“It doesn’t feel right,” he said. “I just can’t… can’t believe that you…” He shook his head. “There’s no way that’d be true. You’re not my father. Can’t be. You’re someone… I...” detest, he was about to say, but his voice trailed off. Was it a good idea to antagonize this man?

The man stared at him long and hard, his face utterly unreadable. “Wait here,” he muttered then. “Wait. I… I need to make a phone call.” He left the kitchen, fishing out a phone from his pocket.

The boy waited a moment, tiptoed then out and peeking into the living room, saw him standing by the window, talking with someone on the phone. Good. This was his chance.

Moving as quietly as he could he headed to the front door, put on shoes (interesting that there were clearly several shoes that could be his), grasped a coat and slipped out.

Leaving the house behind he finally felt like he could breathe again.

(tbc??? who knows, if I get inspiration)

[metamehta]

You're telling me I spent all this time aspiring to be Elizabeth Bennet when I could have been aiming to be Mrs.Allen?

[spotsupstuff]

If five pebbles was ever built for zephyr the same way he was built for moon, would he ever see her as a mentor?

i imagine that he'd!!! be more open with her than he is with Moon, because their personalities match better. Zephyr isn't really the doting, overprotective kind. She didn't have the chance to learn how to be affectionate and warm even though she wishes she could be and she needs to watch her own systems like a hawk 24/7 so she ain't got the attention to spare to nag at him even if she wanted to. they'd end up bonding over their anger at the injustice of the Iterators' fate, though

Pebs would probably take someone else as Mentor™ (she wouldn't be capable of fullfilling the expectations of that role), but he'd probably still look up to her a lot. she'd be like. a not-the-title mentor in the specific field of being angry at their situation and doing Something about it

[cuteniarose]

Me: *creates an OC*

Me: *heavily implies OC will meet a bad fate*

OC: *meets bad fate*

Me:

(Alternatively, I may have started it, but @katkastrofa enabled me and now I’m losing my mind)

[chipthekeeper]

There are so many easy answers for what I appreciate about Cinta. She's a badass, she's stone cold and fearless, she's the consummate rebel. Hell, she could be on rebellion propaganda posters (not that she'd ever allow that, she's gotta be able to go undercover after all)!!

I could talk about how cool she looks when she stabs Corv or when she comes down to shoot Petigar and save Nemik's life (for a little while, at least). I could talk about her A+ death glare or about how she almost laughs in Cassian's face when he hits on her. I could talk about how she's smart and resourceful and fucking strong. I could talk about how she's just, too beautiful to be real.

But everything I appreciate most about Cinta is everything we don’t see. Or, more accurately, what we barely see. What we get little glimpses of in the out of focus shots when she thinks we can't see her. This is a character who buries her feelings so deep down that she can even convince herself she doesn't have them, that they can't hurt her or define her. And so much of her character is revealed in super subtle looks and expressions, in small bits of dialogue because, as Varada said, "this is someone who has been through so much and is suffocating on her own rage and anger...So why would she waste words, or her breath, talking about it."

Throughout the whole Aldhani arc she only says a handful of sentences, all short and to the point but not unfriendly. She's always shown being active and helpful around the camp, almost smiling at multiple points. On first watch you can be forgiven for having the impression that she's the warmer one between her and Vel (especially if you forget Skeen's line about her being "stone cold and fearless" while you're screeching about the blanket line (guilty as charged)). But everything turns on its head at the beginning of episode 6, when Skeen drops another lore bomb: her whole family was slaughtered by stormtroopers. Everything you thought about Cinta before that suddenly takes on a new meaning. You realize she's quiet and distant and cold because it hurts less to lose people when you don't know them. You realize she seems fearless because what else does one have to fear when everyone they loved has already been killed?

At the same time, though, I think she's actually someone who's very much driven by her fear, especially after the Adhani job. I think despite her intentions and her caution, she got attached to that team, and losing them all except for Vel was a reminder that getting close to people is dangerous. She's scared to lose any more, scared of how it will feel to lose Vel to the Empire too, so she tries to act cold and push her away. She tries, but I appreciate that she can't fully do it!! If she was really doing it, really pushing her away and putting up the barrier, she'd never take Vel's hand in the cafe. She'd never steal a glance at her when she's not looking. She'd never come away from the window. You can feel the conflict in her at all those points, can feel her trying to tell herself to stay focused on the fight, but ultimately she can't fully push it all down because, as people somehow just don't get, SHE REALLY REALLY LOVES HER!!! You can see it, if you're paying attention. She may love honor more, but there's no actual way to deny she loves Vel IF YOU'RE PAYING ATTENTION.

Something else I appreciate, perhaps more than anything, is that her name means love. I don't believe that was done unintentionally, and I really hope it's a sign that she's going to come around and realize that she can't run from love forever. It's literally part of her.

I appreciate Cinta because, to me, she is a cautionary tale. Because at the same time she's showing Vel what she needs to see -- that the Empire doesn't stop to catch its breath, so the struggle must always come first -- she's showing us the potential cost of living that way. Thankfully her other half is on top of that, and I'll get to that in a couple weeks.

I could keep going on and on about them together, but that's not fully in the realm of this prompt so I'll wrap it up. But I'd be remiss if I didn't end this by saying how much I appreciate Varada for playing Cinta. An actual human ray of sunshine playing a character who slips closer and closer to darkness. I love her work and I love how proud she is to be Cinta, to be an incredible example of representation and give us a canonically queer character of color in such a huge and important show. I'll forever be thankful for her, and I am so happy she's becoming the star she deserves to be.

Even after all this talking I know I'm leaving things out, so I hope many of the rest of you chime in with what you appreciate about Cinta. She's one of the most special characters that has ever been put to screen for me, no caveats, no asterisks.

Cinta Kaz. A survivor. A rebel. A lover. I'll cherish her always.

Character Appreciation Friday - Cinta Kaz

Name: Cinta Kaz Played by: Varada Sethu Appearances: Aldhani, The Axe Forgets, The Eye, Announcement, Narkina 5, One Way Out, Daughter of Ferrix, Rix Road

Happy Friday, gang! I'll keep this brief for now because I will definitely not be keeping it brief for her in my actual response (and also because if I look at this draft and that picture too long I'll actually break down in tears).

It's Cinta day. Appreciate her. She deserves it. You know the drill: reblog, comment, or ask!

Next week: Karis Nemik

[nightmare8-420]

.

i dont have a point to living anymore

im just an annoyance to my friends.

hell thats if they could even call me that

they hate me.

they hate me they hate me they hate me they hate me they hate me they hate me they hate m they hate me.

i dont know what to do about it anymlre

they hate me.

its justified

but i cant change it

everything is only getting worse

everything is only going to get worse

why am i so stupid

why would i ever think they loved me

why would i ever think they liked me

why am i such an awful person

why dont they just tell me to fucking kill myself already

why am i waiting

why

why.

[hawnks]

one thing about this story is that im struggling to find the edge of how deeply fucked up a character can be before a reader starts to hate them

[quietwingsinthesky]

i literally could have invented an oc who gets to fuck and instead i made one who doesn’t know what sex is (<- test tube baby born on a spaceship) and whose only experience of “love” is getting obsessed with the memory of a woman trapped in another dimension because the alien they’re traveling with is still smitten with her.

[giantkillerjack]

Too late in the night to finish my essay about why I fucking hate the One Piece Live Action show despite the first six episodes out of eight being some of the best television I've ever seen, too early to burn any buildings to the ground so fuck me I guess

[ganja-hq]

Insane that I'm about to turn 25 and my brain has not developed since like 14

[arolesbianism]

I've been playing oni all day again and I'm rotating various dupe hcs in my mind... Might take a stab at designing some random dupes later to fuck around and wait nvm it's past midnight god damnit

[gaylienz]

The 7 R’s of Sustainability:

Did you know that ‘recycling’ is step 6 of the 7 Rs of sustainability? The other R’s are just as important even if they are often forgotten.

Rethink- Do I really need to buy this? The point of this step is to stop and think.

Refuse- Does this product damage the environment? If so, refuse to spend your money on it. i.e. single use plastics, harsh chemicals

Reduce- How much of this do I really need? Buy less! Buy in bulk when you can as it often equals less packaging to throw out.

Reuse- Can I use this product again? Can I fix what I have so that I don’t need to buy something new? Reuse that plastic water bottle a few times. And instead of buying new, try thrift shopping, flea markets, yard sales etc.

Repurpose- Unlimited creativity! Does this item have another use? i.e. old torn clothes can be rags or plastic cups can be planters.

Recycle- Can I recycle this? Not everything can be. There are also some important steps to making sure your recycling is done properly. If unsure, look up local recycling regulations.

Rot- Can I compost this? Food waste, yard clippings, newspapers and many other items can be composted instead of being tossed in the trash. Composting is surprisingly simple and helps reduce harmful greenhouse gasses from entering the atmosphere.

What is the point of the R’s? The number one benefit of the 7 R’s are the reduction of the amount of waste sent to incinerators and landfills. The EPA website provides a lot of useful information. Other benefits that we can reap from implementing these concepts in our life are (as listed on the EPA website): • Prevents pollution caused by reducing the need to harvest new raw materials • Saves energy from not making a new product • Reduces greenhouse gas emissions that contribute to climate change • Helps sustain the environment and natural resources for future generations • Saves money from processing our waste • Increases economic security by tapping a domestic source of materials • Helps create jobs in the recycling and manufacturing industries in the United States

https://www.northglenn.org/government/departments/public_works/trash/recycling.php https://www.nrdc.org/stories/composting-101 https://www.epa.gov/recycle https://www.northglenn.org/Recycling%20Article.pdf

[autolenaphilia]

I talked about the problem of Windows system requirements being too damn high before, and how the windows 10 to 11 jump is especially bad. Like the end of Windows 10 is coming october 2025, and it will be a massive problem. And this article gives us some concrete numbers for how many computers that can't update from win10 to 11.

And it's 240 million. damn. “If these were all folded laptops, stacked one on top of another, they would make a pile 600 km taller than the moon.” the tech analysis company quoted in the article explains.

So many functioning computers that will be wasted. And it's all because people don't wanna switch to a Linux distro with sane system requirements and instead buy a new computer.

Like if you own one of these 240 million windows 10 computers, Just be an environmentally responsible non-wasteful person and switch that computer to Linux instead of just scrapping it because Microsoft says it's not good enough.

Edit: as have been pointed out multiple times in the replies. It's really not "all because people don't wanna switch to a linux distro." It's really Microsoft's fault for this form of planned obsolescence.

My original post was lacking in perspective at best. And of course, people who use computers for work are often made reliant on Windows by their job and employers and can't switch. Or lack time, resources, and information to make the switch. Which is also due to systemic issues, such as lack of education, and the culture of obfuscation about tech that tech companies create.

Edit 2: Making this unrebloggable: now I really know what reddit mods mean when they say "the discussion has run its course" Like there is absolutely no conversation anymore, just repeating of points already made and responded to, just endless repetition

To quote @mlembug

Source

If you can spend 5-10 minutes writing a reblog clowning on somebody, but you can't:

spend 10s to do a basic courtesy of checking the appropriate pronoun of the person involved

spend 30s checking the reblogs of a post to see if someone also decided to clown on the same person

spend 10s to click on OP's post to see if it was edited in the meantime (and guess what: the edits in OP's post does indeed blame Microsoft for planned obsolescence, which you decided to blame her for not doing in one of your reblogs)

THEN YOU SHOULD NOT BE MAKING A REBLOG. EVER.

[earthyaries]

WAYS U CAN PLEASE SATURN ACCORDING TO UR SATURN PLACEMENT ♄

1H/ARIES SATURN: RESPECT URSELF. DO NOT ALTER UR BOUNDARIES TO BE LIKED. SELF IMPROVEMENT. PUT EFFORT INTO UR BODY/APPEARANCE. WORKOUT / BE ACTIVE. HEALTHY COMPETITION. PRACTICE OFTEN. BE CONFIDENT BUT NOT ABOVE OTHERS. SLOW DOWN. SELF GROWTH. DELIBERATE ACTIONS.

2H/TAURUS SATURN: DEVELOP STRONG VALUES. DO NOT UNDERMINE URSELF. QUALITY OVER QUANTITY. INTENTIONAL SPENDING. HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP WITH FOOD. TRY NOT TO OVERINDULGE ; TRY NOT TO WASTE. STOP SELF SABOTAGING. NO SELF DEPRECATING. APPRECIATE WHAT U HAVE. EXPRESS GRATITUDE. DONATE WHAT U CAN.

3H/GEMINI SATURN: THINK BEFORE U SPEAK ; SPEAK LESS THAN U DESIRE. STOP OVERSHARING. FOCUS ON UR CRAFT ; GET RID OF THE DISTRACTIONS. POWER IN THE TONGUE. PERSONAL MOTTOS. STAND FOR WHAT IS MORAL ; BE WELL INFORMED. HAVE HARD CONVOS WHEN NECESSARY. BE A SUPPORTIVE FRIEND. STOP COMPLAINING. FIND SOLUTIONS. ADAPT & OVERCOME.

4H/CANCER SATURN: CREATE BOUNDARIES & STICK TO THEM. BE OF SERVICE TO OTHERS WITHOUT SELF SACRIFICE. DO NOT BE OVERLY SELFISH. EXPRESS UR NEEDS. TAKE CARE OF UR MENTAL HEALTH. EMOTIONAL REGULATION. SELF CARE. BE SELECTIVE OF UR INNER CIRCLE. POUR INTO UR LOVED ONES. TREAT OTHERS WITH KINDNESS. KEEP UR LIVING SPACE CLEAN.

5H/LEO SATURN: LET GO OF SELF DOUBT. BRING UR VISION TO LIFE. MASTER UR CRAFT. BELIEVE IN URSELF & WORK TOWARDS UR GOALS. GET RID OF UR NEED FOR OUTSIDE APPROVAL. LOOK OUT FOR THE CHILDREN ; BE THE PERSON U NEEDED GROWING UP. WORK HARD, PLAY HARD. DELAYED GRATIFICATION.

6H/VIRGO SATURN: FOLLOW A ROUTINE. HEALTHY HABITS. STRUCTURE. KEEP UR SPACES ORGANIZED ; DE-CLUTTER. BE A FRIEND TO ANIMALS. TAKE GOOD CARE OF UR PET/S. PUT IN THE WORK EVERY DAY. OFFER A HELPING HAND. HONOR UR OWN TIME & ENERGY ; DO NOT ENGAGE IN ONE-SIDED RELATIONS.

7H/LIBRA SATURN: MAKE UR OWN DECISIONS. TAKE ACCOUNTABILITY. CRACK DOWN ON CO-DEPENDENCY ; AVOID SELF ISOLATION. LONGTERM RELATIONS. BE THE BIGGER PERSON. FORGIVE BUT DON’T FORGET. APPLY LESSONS FROM THE PAST. TREAD LIGHTLY. RESPECT THOSE WHO CAME BEFORE YOU. FORM LASTING ALLIANCES.

8H/SCORPIO SATURN: KEEP THINGS TO URSELF. STAY PRIVATE. PRACTICE SELF CONTROL. RESILIENCE IN THE FACE OF HARDSHIP. HOPE FOR THE BEST, PREPARE FOR THE WORST. SAVINGS/RAINY DAY RESOURCES. EMBRACE CHANGE. LEARN TO LET GO. RADICAL ACCEPTANCE. SEXUAL DISCIPLINE. XTRA EMPHASIS ON SAFE SEX!

9H/SAGITTARIUS SATURN: PRACTICE UR BELIEFS. WALK THE TALK. MANTRAS. LEARN FROM OTHERS ; COME TO UR OWN CONCLUSIONS. STUDY. BE AN ETERNAL STUDENT. ALLOW URSELF TO BE OUT OF UR ELEMENT. RESPECT OTHER CULTURES. MAKE UR OWN TRADITIONS. STAY HUMBLE. ACCEPT MULTIPLE TRUTHS. APPLY WHAT WORKS.

10H/CAPRICORN SATURN: KEEP UR EYES ON THE PRIZE. TRUST THAT ALL THINGS COME IN DUE TIME. KEEP URSELF MOTIVATED. WORK FOR WHAT U WANT. STAY CONSISTENT. PERSONAL LEGACY ; THINGS THAT LAST. BECOME UR OWN ROLE MODEL. DO IT URSELF / DO IT RIGHT. LIVE WITH KARMA IN MIND.

11H/AQUARIUS SATURN: LEAD THE WAY ; FURTHER THE CAUSE. BETTER THE COMMUNITY— CREATE UR OWN. BE CONSCIOUS OF WHOM U ASSOCIATE URSELF WITH. BEFRIEND PPL OLDER THAN URSELF. LONGTERM FRIENDSHIPS. LONGTERM RESULTS. ADVANCEMENT. NETWORKING. ONLINE INFLUENCE. SET THE STANDARD.

12/PISCES SATURN: ALL IN MODERATION. HEALTHY COPING METHODS & LIFESTYLE PRACTICES. CONSIDERATION. REFLECTION ; SELF AWARENESS. THERAPY. STANDARDS. LEAVE ONCE DISRESPECTED. NO FAKE FRIENDS. MIND OVER MATTER. MANIFESTATION. BE REAL WITH URSELF. SELF TRUST.

[fxstpace]

oh, snap!

summary: you and jake sim might have been best friends once upon a time, but not anymore. now, you barely talk to each other—so you decide to prove the universe wrong when you find out that he’s your soulmate, because there’s no way both of you are compatible.

⇢ pairing: jake sim x fem!reader ⇢ genres: fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers au, soulmate au, college au ⇢ word count: 7.0k ⇢ warnings: profanity, alcohol consumption, sexual jokes, soulmate lore i made up ⇢ a/n: this is a fic i had posted on my now deactivated blog, which i’ve made minor modifications to. thanks for reading!

The universe has to be fucking with you.

You aren’t one to believe in manifestation or the law of attraction or whatever other nonsense your TikTok feed provides you with. You think it’s a total waste of time, energy, and resources. 

Right now, however, you’re manifesting with all your might—eyes screwed tightly shut, hands clasped in front of your chest, only one thought running through your head: Please don’t let it be Jake Sim, please don’t let it be Jake Sim, please don’t let it be—

You open one eye cautiously. You lift up the pinkie finger of your right hand equally carefully. 

Fuck.

You drop your hands and let your head fall onto the desk in front of you. A dull thud echoes around you, and normally, you would be apologetic since you’re at the library, but because you’re wallowing in self-pity you can’t bring yourself to care. A frown mars your forehead. Maybe you’re manifesting wrong. Is that even a thing? Perhaps you should ask your friend Yizhou how to do it; she’s pretty popular on Instagram so surely she’d have some idea. Maybe one of her fellow influencer friends is a manifester. (Is that what they call it?)

You lift your head up and stare morosely at the red thread twined around your little finger. It winds down the floor, swirling and looping in gentle curves. You glare at the person it’s connected to.

Jake Sim, that little piece of shit.

The object of your disdain is seated one table away from yours. He’s hunched over his laptop, occasionally scribbling something into the messy notebook in front of him. His glasses keep slipping down the bridge of his nose, and every time he pushes them back up, you feel a tug on your finger. 

This brings you to the following question: Does he not know you’re his soulmate?

You have three answers. One: He knows, but he doesn’t care. Two: He doesn’t know. Three: He doesn’t care.

The second option is rare but not unheard of. There have been several cases where people vehemently deny the existence of soulmates and refuse to believe in it. Such people never get to see the red thread that is wrapped around their finger, even though it exists. Truthfully, you feel bad for the people on the other side of the thread—the non-believer’s alleged soulmate. They will forever watch from afar, never going too close, but never straying away either. It sounds lonely, more than anything else. 

You push that thought away. If Jake doesn’t know, it should be a good thing, right? You don’t need a soulmate to survive. You can just continue with your life as it is—attending classes, hanging out with your friends… Yeah, you’re happy with everything you have.

Another tug at your pinkie forces out an annoyed huff from your mouth. You glare at the perpetrator, still engrossed in his work. To be fair, you didn’t know Jake was your soulmate until very recently either. You knew the thread existed but didn’t know who it was connected to. When you were younger, you and your friends would have tons of fun pulling at the thread to annoy your unknown soulmate. Getting a pull back was a source of glee for seven-year-old you. Now, it just fills you with dread.

“Oi.” Someone’s breath tickles your ear.

“Fucking hell!” 

You swat at your best friend’s face, successfully smacking his cheek. Taehyun grunts in pain. “Uncalled for.”

“What the fuck, Taehyun?” You grouse. “Don’t scare me like that. Sorry ‘bout your cheek.”

The boy rolls his eyes, sitting down on the chair next to you and dumping his tote bag on the table. “I’d feel better if you actually meant your apology. Also, why aren’t you studying? Our midterms start in a week and staring at Lover Boy isn’t gonna help you pass your classes.”

“Don’t call him that,” you snap. “And I was… studying.”

“Right. That’s exactly why none of your books are open.”

“Shut up, people are staring.”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment. You’re not wrong—people are staring. Well, specifically, one person. You flex your little finger a little, straightening it out and then bending it again. If Jake feels any sort of yank, he doesn’t show it. Not that you’re interested, of course. You’re just… observing. So is he, clearly. He peers over his glasses at you both, his expression not betraying anything.

You flinch when Taehyun pinches your side. Turning back to him, you’re ready to yell at him for being an annoying asshole, when he fixes you with a pitying sort of look. You swallow.

“Hey,” he says softly, “don’t overthink, okay? He’s alone right now, you might as well talk to him about this.”

You blink uneasily, eyes flitting between your friend and the unopened book in front of you.

“How long are you gonna avoid him? You’ve been hiding this for months. And… he has a right to know,” Taehyun finishes, flicking a strand of hair out of his eyes.

You swallow again, around the lump in your throat that’s been sitting there for months. You found out that Jake was your soulmate months ago. Yet, you can’t seem to bring yourself to confront him or tell him about it. A far cry from the whole entire concept of soulmates—isn’t he supposed to be your missing puzzle piece? Certainly not, if you’re too nervous to even approach him. The universe must have made a mistake. Whatever higher being exists must have assigned you to the wrong person.

Taehyun is right, though. (You’re not going to admit it to him, of course; there’s no need to boost his already inflated ego.)

Jake Sim does have a right to know that he’s your soulmate. 

You shift uncomfortably. Taehyun drops his gaze with a sigh. “I know you two have a history but can’t you just sort this out?”

“I… can’t,” you say lamely. 

Your best friend looks sadly at you. You look away, fidgeting with the cover of your textbook. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a girl make her way to Jake’s table. He perks up immediately, greeting her with a soft smile. She sits down next to him and grabs Jake’s laptop, angling it towards her like it’s second nature. It probably is, you think bitterly.

Another reason why you can’t tell Jake Sim about this whole Situation: He has a girlfriend.

Park Chaerin meets your eyes and waves at you cheerfully. You wave back, feeling sick to your stomach.

You press the tip of your pen into your notebook, fighting the urge to close your eyes. Even the half-empty cup of coffee next to your laptop has done little to wake you up. Morning classes are the bane of your existence, and as a night owl, you vehemently dislike getting up early. Your professor rattles on about an assignment due in a week. You stifle another yawn behind your hand.

Feeling a yank on your little finger, you press the palm of your hand on the desk and ignore it. Jake Sim is sitting right next to you—courtesy of both of you having arrived five minutes late, and the only seats left were in the last row. Your Friday 8 AM lecture on the Quantum Theory of Electromagnetism is normally interesting, but Professor Jang makes even the most stimulating topics seem dry. You usually end up resorting to self-study sessions in order to understand everything. 

Jake is scribbling something next to you. He’s probably doodling. He used to do that a lot when he was little, too. You recall pages upon pages of maths notes interspersed with tiny drawings of dinosaurs and dragons in the margins. They had made you laugh at the time. 

“Hey,” he whispers.

You blink.

“Hi,” you say.

Jake grins at you—and you’re dazzled, for a moment. It’s been so long since you’ve had that smile of his being directed at you. You’ve seen him smile at other people on campus—his new friends, his girlfriend, acquaintances—all from afar, and you push down the bitter sting of rejection that pricks you every time. After so many months, it feels like you were in a pitch-black room all this time, and someone suddenly turned on the lights. It’s blinding.

Your former friend caps his pen and leans back in his chair. “Did you get enough sleep?”

“Um, yeah,” you answer. Just to be polite, you add, “...Did you?”

“Kind of.” Jake winces.

“Oh.”

“I was trying to understand the topic before this. Y’know—” he meets your eyes expectantly— “the whole Kronig-Penney model and the Bloch function and all that. I spent, like, two hours on them,” he says sheepishly.

“Oh, uh, yeah, those are kinda difficult,” you offer.

You’re still perplexed by this whole situation. Admittedly, after weeks of minimal contact with your childhood best friend, this isn’t how you imagined your reunion would go. All awkwardness aside, however, it feels… nice, talking to him again. It’s hard to move past the last few months, but there’s nothing wrong with this, right? You can think of it as two classmates bonding over a hard course they willingly chose. Two classmates who’ve known each other since they were toddlers just learning to walk, but you deliberately don’t think of that.

Jake hums. “The graphs get super confusing.”

“I guess,” you say. 

He leans forward abruptly, elbows knocking on the edge of the desk. His stare on you is intent, focused. “Is your number still the same?”

You gape at him, mouth open like a blown-out fish. “Uh… yeah. Why?”

“So I can text you if I don’t understand anything,” Jake says simply, easily, still sporting that same easygoing smile of his. Your stomach twists into knots, and you force yourself to appear calm and not like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

“I think you should’ve asked me first,” you manage to say.

He looks at you strangely, a dip in his eyebrows. “Why would I do that?”

Why, indeed.

Jake has known you for years; this is an undeniable fact. Even now, he probably knows you better than anyone else does—or ever could. So there’s absolutely no way he can’t make sense of the stifling awkwardness that surrounds you both.

However, the same holds true for you: You know Jake Sim just as well as he knows you. You know he’s trying to bridge a gap, make amends in a way only he does. You would be a fool if you didn’t take it in stride.

You crack a small smile. “Fair enough.”

He picks up his pen and twirls it between his fingers idly, before saying, “I’ll text you about other stuff, too.”

“Okay.”

“Great.”

Jake is all smiles and sunshine. He starts doodling again—what looks like a misshapen traffic cone of some sort. You look away, and tuck this little slice of goldenness into your rapidly rabbiting heart. 

This is not good. You pay no heed to the thread around your little finger, and pick up your own pen. Angling your notebook away from your deskmate, you begin to write.

REASONS WHY JAKE SIM CANNOT BE MY SOULMATE FUCK THIS SHIT IM OUT

#1. he doesn’t know you as well as he should (okay, maybe he does)

You have no clue how you ended up studying with Jake Sim and Park Chaerin, of all people.

Your own friends, Kang Taehyun and Kim Gaeul are utterly nonplussed at this new situation. You give them a helpless shrug when they elbow each other and raise their eyebrows at you. The library is fairly empty at this hour, which makes it an ideal time to study without the distractions of other people. Of course, you didn’t consider the two people who’ve decided you’re a physics expert and require your guidance.

You humour them because you’re a nice person—not because you’re weak to Jake’s entreaties and his offer of buying you food for a whole week.

Chaerin smiles at your friends. “Hey, guys! Come join us.”

Taehyun is the first to blink out of his confusion. He moves forward, pulling out the chair opposite yours and settling down. “Thanks. We won’t bother you guys much.”

Gaeul nods her head. “Yeah, I have a bunch of assignments to finish.” She chuckles nervously, smoothing out her hair.

“No problem,” Jake supplies. “Your friend is super smart.”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows, pointing an incredulous finger at you. “You mean…?”

“Hey!” You swing your leg and kick Taehyun’s shin from under the table. He winces in pain. Gaeul giggles, and so does Chaerin. Jake lets out an amused snort.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” you say, “this bit isn’t that important from a test point of view, so just go over it to get the general idea.” You mark the paragraph you were referring to with a pencil.

Chaerin and Jake nod in tandem, like a pair of bobbleheads. You bite your lip to stifle your smile—they’re so perfect together, it’s ridiculous. You wouldn’t be surprised if Jake’s end of the string was connected to Chaerin’s instead. Is that even possible? You’ll have to google it up.

The thought puts a significant damper on your mood, and you turn away, drawing back from the pair sitting next to you. 

Instead, you lock eyes with Taehyun, who’s glaring at you with enough intensity to drill a hole through your forehead. Talk to him, he mouths. You give him a small shake of your head.

You can’t talk to him about anything serious. Explaining physics to him and his girlfriend in the presence of your own best friends is a sort of safe zone; you don’t have to discuss anything personal whatsoever. All you have to do is prattle off a list of formulae and derivations and graphs, and hope that what you’re telling them to study is actually going to be asked on your midterm next week.

Taehyun rolls his eyes so hard, you wonder how they haven’t popped out of their sockets. He’s exasperated, you can tell—and Gaeul has probably been receiving the brunt of it all, because he would never outrightly say he’s upset with you. He would rant to Gaeul instead, trusting that she would tell you everything he told her but more nicely. That’s how your little trio circles back to each other.

You shift uncomfortably. Gaeul catches your eye and gives you a small, sympathetic smile. Your lips twitch upwards slightly.

“Wow,” Chaerin says, “I can’t believe we finished a whole unit in, like, one and a half hours.” She directs the next part to you. “You’re really smart. Don’t listen to Taehyun.”

“Y/N doesn’t listen to me anyway,” your friend grumbles. Gaeul hides her snort behind her styrofoam cup of coffee.

Speaking of which, you could really use some caffeine too. Anything to get away from Jake Sim and his quiet, knowing… aura, is the word you settle for. He wasn’t always this quiet—he used to be loud and raucous when it was just the two of you in high school—so while this new development isn’t surprising, it certainly is jarring.

“I’m going to get some coffee,” you announce to the table at large. “Anyone wanna come with?”

“I’ll come,” Jake says immediately. “I owe you for teaching us.”

“Oh, um.” You attempt to smile. “I—”

“Please go,” Taehyun says suddenly, his tone beseeching. “I need coffee too but I don’t trust Y/N to not put salt in mine or something.”

You gape at him, betrayal flooding your features. Gaeul snorts again. Chaerin just looks at you and Jake alternately. Jake’s lips twitch upwards. “Y/N still does that?”

You whirl around to face him. “What?”

“Oh, this is getting interesting,” Gaeul pipes up. “Do elaborate.”

“I second that,” Chaerin adds. 

You feel your cheeks and the back of your neck heat up. You want to implore your former best friend to keep his pretty mouth shut, but your ego doesn’t let you grovel in front of three other people. Jake raises his eyebrows, lips parting to form a small ‘o’. He smiles, a little bit sheepish. Before he can say anything, you intervene.

“That was one time, Taehyun!” you snap. “And it was by accident. Why would I willingly put salt in your coffee?”

Taehyun raises an eyebrow at you, but inside, you know he’s laughing uncontrollably at your predicament. “Who knows? You might wanna poison me for being cooler than you.”

“What is this, high school? And why the fuck would I want a murder on my hands? I’m too young to go to jail.”

Chaerin tries to muffle her giggles with her hand. Both you and Taehyun turn simultaneously to look at her. “Sorry.” She giggles again. “You two talk like an old married couple.”

“Gross,” you say, at the same time Taehyun draws out an, “Ew,” and extends the last syllable like a child in kindergarten.

“Oh my God,” Gaeul says. “Chaerin, you’re a genius. I see it too.”

“Not you too,” Taehyun groans.

The two begin bickering again, and Chaerin joins them with enthusiasm, adding her own little tidbits of support for Gaeul in between the conversation. During all this, Jake remains remarkably quiet, an amused smile tugging on his lips. 

You turn to him, a rush of sudden embarrassment making your cheeks heat up. It occurs to you that he’s never seen you like this—laughing and joking around with your friends. Friends that don’t include him. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Let’s go get coffee.”

“Okay.” 

You and Jake push your chairs back under the table and exit the library. The coffee shop is two storeys down, so you make a beeline for the staircase. Your former best friend follows you, his undone shoelaces slapping on the tiles. He still doesn’t tie his shoelaces properly, then. Perhaps he hasn’t changed as much as you thought.

“Hey, by the way,” he says, “I was gonna tell Taehyun about the time I put salt in your coffee.”

“...I know.” Your answer is short, clipped. You force your shoulders to relax—there’s no need to tense up when Jake Sim is around.

“Oh. Uh, okay then.” 

You don’t look at him, but you’re fairly certain he’s doing that thing he always does when he’s feeling awkward: A little rub of his thumb against the corner of his mouth. It’s a tic he’s always had, from the time you were in elementary school, and it isn’t any different now.

A stifling silence falls upon you both. You almost wish Taehyun and Gaeul were here, bringing Chaerin with them in tow. The three of them seemed to get along well; the chances of the five of you hanging out outside of college are high, now.

Of course, that also means you and Jake will have to pretend like everything’s alright between you both, and that your decades-long friendship wasn’t shattered by one single argument.

You round the corner to the staircase and begin the descent downwards. Jake holds onto the railing on the other side. Despite everything, you think Jake is the braver one between you two. 

He breaks the silence as easily as he broke your heart, and asks:

“Do you still take your macchiato with two packets of sugar?”

“Yeah,” you say softly.

#2. he wants to be friends again (why?)

You blame Kang Taehyun for this.

Of course he had to forget to pick up the pizza from the local restaurant before coming back to his place. Of course he didn’t check the weather forecast beforehand, and even if he did, of course he didn’t tell you it was going to rain. Of fucking course he asks you to pick up the food for him because your classes only ended at 4 and the get-together to celebrate the end of midterms was at 4:30.

If you had the power, you would curse your best friend to oblivion. You grip your phone in your hand, gritting your teeth and staring down at the screen.

Group Chat: the holy trinity of dumbasses 🤡 [16:12] You: it’s fukcing pouring here and i didnt bring my car [16:12] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): *Fucking [16:13] You: yeah it’s something you’ve never done before [16:13] You: i have the pizza [16:13] You: come and pick me up or im throwing it in the dustbin. [16:14] gaeul 🤍: u shouldn’t waste food y/n >:( [16:14] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): You’re making Gaeul cry >:( [16:14] gaeul 🤍: girl what [16:15] You: aw cute [16:15] You: seriously tho [16:16] You: come pick me up [16:17] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): OK, I’m on my way [16:17] You: FUCKING FINALLY

The plastic bag with all the pizza boxes dangles off your wrist, cutting into your skin. The steps that lead to the inside of the restaurant are slick with rainwater. You open Instagram and scroll through your feed mindlessly, clicking on your classmates’ stories. 

You shiver. Rainy weather always makes the temperature drop by several degrees, and your flimsy jacket isn’t enough to drive away the chill. Forget Taehyun, maybe you should’ve checked the forecast instead. Sometimes (read: most of the time) you can be just as stupid as him. You wonder how Gaeul puts up with the single brain cell you and Taehyun toss between each other like a hot potato.

Honestly, you just want to go somewhere where it’s dry and warm.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, and it takes you a whole minute to comprehend the name that shows up on the caller ID.

Jake Sim.

Why is Jake Sim calling you?

You chew on your lip nervously before swiping your thumb up and accepting his call. Bringing your phone to your ear, you let the plastic bag sway gently. The line is silent for a few seconds, as though neither of you can comprehend the fact that you’re on a call with each other. It makes sense; this is the first time in months he’s calling you.

Finally, Jake’s voice crackles over the speaker. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I’m outside. Can you see me?”

“I, uh.” You look around quickly. The parking lot in front of you is mostly empty, a good chunk of people having escaped the rain. It’s not hard to make out the solitary figure standing outside a beaten-down Toyota, holding an umbrella aloft. “Yeah, I see you.”

“Oh, good,” he says. “Do you have an umbrella?”

“Nope. Just… pizza.”

Jake makes a noise that sounds like a warbled chuckle. “Okay, I’m coming over there.”

“...Okay.”

For some strange reason, you don’t feel like ending the call. You fumble for something to say, because it’s weird just being on a call with someone you can literally see. The tug on your little finger as he comes closer to you makes a lump form in your throat. You take a deep breath and push it down into your stomach. 

“You haven’t changed your car,” you say lightly.

Jake hums, the sound so familiar it doesn’t even surprise you until you register it. “Can’t afford a new one. Plus, it works decently.”

He strides over to you, and it’s unnecessarily sexy—the way he holds the black umbrella up with one hand and his phone to his ear with the other. You can see the speckles of rain on his grey hoodie where the raindrops bounce off the ends of the umbrella. His hair is swept to the side, lips pink with chapstick. Another yank on your pinkie finger; you clench your fist.

“Please,” you snort. “The last time I was in it, it took twenty minutes to start the engine. That was a year ago, Jake.”

He’s closer now, nearing the steps. His eyes don’t leave yours. They trace over all your features, as though he’s committing you to memory—you, with your tangled hair and tired eye bags, chapped lips and dirty sneakers. You swallow.

He puts his phone down and speaks to you directly. “I think that was the driver’s fault. But don’t worry, I can drive better now.”

You let your hand drop limply to your side. 

“Hi,” Jake says.

“Hi again,” you manage to say.

“Here, let me take that.” He reaches out for the pizza bag, but you don’t give it to him.

“It’s fine. Just… hold up the umbrella and don’t get us wet.”

Jake laughs, a short, bright sound. “I won’t.”

You step towards him, quickly slipping underneath the shelter of the umbrella above your head. It’s a tight fit—one of your shoulders pokes out, as does one of his. You grimace when your sleeve gets splattered with rain.

Jake leads the way to his ancient car, scratched and scuffed with years of use. It was his dad’s old one, a gift for him on his seventeenth birthday, one that his mom had told you about to surprise him with. It seems like a bygone history now.

“I thought Taehyun was gonna come,” you comment.

Jake looks at you strangely. “I thought you asked for me to come pick you up.”

“I… did?” You gasp at the realisation. Kang Taehyun, that fucker. “I’m sorry,” you say awkwardly. “Taehyun probably told you that I was stuck in the rain.”

“He did,” Jake confirms. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. It’s not a problem at all.”

“Oh… okay, then.” Still, you feel guilty. Jake came all the way in the rain just because your best friend couldn’t stop being a meddling little nincompoop.

“Why wouldn’t I come?” Jake continues. His voice sounds deliberately casual. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“...Yeah. I guess.”

Jake stops near his car, fishing around in his pocket for the keys. “Look, I—I know things haven’t been the same lately, but I—” he licks his lips, another nervous tic of his— “I want you to know that I never stopped thinking of you as my best friend. Okay?”

You blink, sucking in a breath sharply. “I, um, yeah. Yeah, okay,” you say lamely.

Jake nods once, not meeting your eyes. “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’ve found friends like Gaeul and Taehyun. They’re good people.”

“So is Chaerin,” you say. “And so is Sunghoon.”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling faintly, unlocking the door. “And so are you.”

Sometimes, you wonder if Jake also feels a pull on his little finger. If he does, does he ever wonder where it’s from? Or does he not feel it at all? You bend your finger and shuffle into the passenger side of his car. He closes the door for you before crossing over to the other side and climbing into the driver’s seat.

Whatever the case is, one thing is for sure: Jake Sim is your soulmate, and even if he wasn’t, you’d still be in love with him.

Just like you were one year ago.

#3. his parents adore you (and so do you, but there’s always the yearning and the aching)

“Hey, mom and dad are asking when you’re gonna visit again.”

Jake swings into your periphery, putting his phone back in his pocket. His mom had called about fifteen minutes ago to make plans for Jake to go home over the weekend. Potentially, you could also go—your childhood home is right next to his. It’s been a while since you last visited; your little sister sends you texts about how much she misses you.

He sits down on the chair next to yours, looking at you expectantly. You’re at your favourite spot in the library, one that’s been designated as you and your friends’ table. Jake and Chaerin have been officially integrated into your tiny trio; Gaeul and Chaerin get along really well, and Taehyun and Jake follow the same sports teams. Occasionally, their other friend, Park Sunghoon, joins you but he’s very quiet and mostly keeps to himself.

You don’t look up from your laptop screen when you answer, “I’m not sure.”

“Huh. Mom says you’ve said that to your mom every time she asks.”

Things between you and Jake have reached a semblance of normalcy, too. It’s not the same as it used to be—it can never be the same as it used to be—but at least the pang you feel in your chest whenever he talks to you has dulled somewhat. 

“I’ve been busy,” you say vaguely. 

“Oh, c’mon,” Jake retorts. “Our midterms were over a week ago. What’re you waiting for?”

You don’t reply. He waits for a moment before saying, “I could drive you.”

That gets your full attention. Your gaze snaps to him, mouth pressed together. 

“I mean, we literally live right next to each other, Y/N,” he continues. “It’ll save gas. And the environment.”

You snort. “Your car is more of a hazard to the environment than us not carpooling is.”

“You don’t know how to drive,” he deadpans.

“That’s not true! I can drive, I just choose not to. Saving the environment and all.” You point an accusing finger at him. “If you really care about the environment, you should take the bus home with me.”

Jake shrugs loosely. “I don’t care how we go home, as long as you come with me. I’m sure your sister misses you too.”

There it is again: That easy, light way he says things. Nonchalant and unaffected—though it affects you more than it should.

“You’ll pay for the tickets?” 

Jake’s grin is golden. “If that’s what it takes.”

That’s how you find yourself crammed in between Jake Sim and an old auntie with a flower-patterned bandana, on the bus back to your hometown three days later. The auntie gives you and Jake a few cookies she’d packed for her grandchildren, and then promptly falls asleep on your shoulder (Jake couldn’t stop laughing for ten minutes when he saw the line of drool she’d left on your shirt sleeve). He offers you his own shoulder in case you want to sleep too; your cheeks heat up at the thought. It’s a bumpy ride, but after stopping at the bus stop nearest to your house, Flower Auntie sends you off with a few more cookies and a box of homemade kimchi, and you and Jake begin walking back to your neighbourhood.

Some things have changed—the playground is being renovated, your old elementary school is being repainted, the Kims who owned the local ramen shop retired and set the place up for rent. But at its heart, it’s all the same, you think. Kids still run around holding warm bungeoppang from street stalls and cartons of strawberry milk from the convenience store. Their mothers sit around and gossip about celebrities and complain about their husbands. People working corporate jobs curse under their breaths about their bosses and their unforgiving schedules. It’s late in the evening when you arrive, a bag containing all of Flower Auntie’s goodies hanging off Jake’s arm. All the local eateries are opening up for the dinner rush, drawing people in with the offer of free beer and soju for every meal purchased. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Jake says, a fond smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” you agree softly.

Despite everything, it’s still home.

The two of you cross the streets to your houses, sneakers slapping against the pavement. Several neighbours who’ve seen you both grow up call out and wave hello. You’re stopped by Mrs. Lee’s son, Heeseung, who makes you both promise to go out for dinner with him tomorrow. 

Finally, you stand in front of your childhood home. The rusted door and peeling-off paint greets you like a best friend. You shoulder your backpack and ring the doorbell, saying goodbye to Jake as he walks into his own house.

The door swings open—only to reveal Mrs. Sim standing at your doorway. Before you can voice your confusion, she pulls you into a tight hug, mumbling your name into your hair.

“Welcome home,” she says, moving aside and letting you in. “Your mother is in the kitchen. She’s just started making dinner.”

“Oh, okay.” You grin. “It’s great to see you, Mrs. Sim.”

“I swear you love Y/N more than me.”

You turn around and see Jake standing by the door, an affectionate look in his eyes. You direct your grin at him, too.

“Suck it up, loser.”

Jake’s guffaw rings in your ears even when your sister screams with unabashed joy as soon as she sees you.

#4. he broke your heart once (he could do it again)

You stare at the red thread wrapped around your finger. It’s dulled a bit now, compared to how it was a few years ago. Some of its shine is lost; it looks more opaque now. You crook your finger experimentally, knowing it's futile but still holding on to some hope that maybe Jake will feel it too.

To live for the hope of it all, as a wise song-writer once penned.

You startle when Jake sets a mug of coffee in front of you. His house is empty—your mother and Mrs. Sim went to buy groceries together and his father is out of the city on a business trip. Your sister is hanging out with her friends but told you to call her if you needed anything.

“Here you go,” Jake says, sitting down on the chair next to you. “Have some and then we can go buy some hangover soup.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, curling your fingers around the mug and savouring its warmth. The liquid inside is not too bitter, but not too sweet either—just how you like it.

“Feeling any better?”

You wince. Going out for dinner with Heeseung meant drinks were also attached. Being back in your hometown after weeks meant you had to check out all your favourite restaurants again and visit the ones that popped up after you left for college. The result: You swallowed down entirely too much soju, Heeseung and Jake had to physically carry you home, your head is killing you right now, and your embarrassment is at its peak.

When you woke up in the early afternoon to texts from your family members detailing their various absences, you reluctantly made your way out of your bedroom and to the Sims’ place. 

Which brings you here, perched on a chair at the Sims’ dining table, fiddling with your red string of fate, while the object of your thoughts sits right next to you.

“Yeah, a little,” you murmur in response to his question.

“Good.” Jake stretches his arms above his head, exposing a sliver of his midriff. You swallow. “Your alcohol tolerance is still the same.”

“Yours isn’t any better,” you counter. “You didn’t drink more than one bottle of soju.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You were counting?”

You huff, ignoring the warmth that spreads to your cheeks. “That’s not the point.”

“I’m just joking,” he says, bringing his hands back down. “I was kinda surprised Heeseung has a girlfriend now.”

You hum, taking another sip of your drink. Your head still pounds, but the caffeine is kicking in and making you more lively. It is strange, though, seeing your childhood friend settle down. Judging by the way he talks about her, he’s completely smitten. She’s my soulmate, he had said, and I don’t even believe in my thread.

The memory makes hurt bubble up inside your throat, so you chug the remaining liquid in the mug.

“It’s nice, though,” Jake continues, something… wistful crossing his face. “I wish I had someone like that.”

You look away, staring down at the ring of coffee left on the wooden table from your mug. “Yeah, I guess… Aren’t you dating Chaerin, though?”

You bite the bullet—what’s the point, anyway? There’s no use in dragging it out. Not when he clearly doesn’t know that his soulmate is sitting right next to him. You can deal with the hurt that comes with rejection later.

Jake stills. You glance at him—he tilts his head confusedly. “Chaerin? No… What makes you think that?”

“Everyone said you guys were dating,” you say with a small, uncertain shrug. 

“I mean…” He blinks. “We hooked up once, but that’s really it.”

It’s your turn to blink now, bemused. “Huh?”

“Yeah, we were drunk and it just sorta happened? I dunno,” he says sheepishly. “We didn’t remember any of it later, so we just agreed to remain friends. Plus, her soulmate is Sunghoon.”

“Wait, what?” Your teeth worry your bottom lip. Your mind is swirling with questions—was it possible that you had misread Jake Sim all this time?

“Yeah,” he says softly. “It’s no big deal.”

“...Oh. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed things,” you apologise quietly. Despite all this, his words make a swell of optimism rise in your chest.

He shrugs. “I, uh, wouldn’t blame you. We didn’t talk much after… after everything.”

“Yeah.” Your admission is soft, regret burning a hole in your tongue.

“So, um…” Jake trails off, looking unsure of himself. That’s a first, you realise with a start. He’s usually so calm and collected, even in the worst times. “Do you still feel the same as you did a year ago?”

You suck in a breath. “Why—why would you ask me something like that?”

“I—just curious.”

His eyes land on yours, beseeching and glorious. Even when he’s just woken up, he looks like he’s been dipped in the sun’s golden rays. Your heart hammers inside your chest.

“Wait, can I ask you something else? Why… did you reject me that night?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re transported back to that fateful evening in July.

You stuttered the words out, and explained that you were in love with him, that you were pretty sure he was your soulmate, regardless of who your string was actually connected to. With every new sentence you tacked on, the emotion on Jake’s face vanished. Towards the end, you felt your face crumble.

He left you alone on the pavement, broken-hearted and lovesick.

Jake clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off so harsh on you that day.”

“I don’t care about that, Jake,” you say simply. “I just want to know why.”

“Because I was stupid. I didn’t believe in the soulmate bullshit, but I know you do. You’ve always been a hopeless romantic. I—” He licks his lips before continuing— “The truth is, Y/N, I really, really like you… But I didn’t want to hold you back from finding your true soulmate—whoever was on the other side of your string—’cause I know they’re gonna be the one for you.”

If you weren’t sitting already, you’re sure Jake’s confession would have swept you off your feet and you would be a bumbling mess on his dining room floor. Seeing the forlorn look on his face, you nearly crumble. How stupid your soulmate is. How kind and caring and selfless. 

“So I rejected you. I thought I wouldn’t be able to make you happy.” He pauses for a moment, his voice dropping. “It’s still the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

You finally find your voice. “Jake…”

He laughs somberly. “You probably think I’m an asshole.”

“I could never think that,” you say firmly. Your hand finds his on the tabletop, and he laces your fingers together, staring at your connected palms with awe.

“I do think you’re a little bit dumb, because I’ve liked you too since, like, forever—”

“Define forever,” he interrupts, not unkindly.

“Well—maybe since the time you surprised me with all the physical copies of that book series I wanted for my fifteenth birthday?”

“Then,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, “I’ve loved you since before forever.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of your mouth. You feel a tug on your little finger as Jake moves his hand away from yours and cups your cheek with it instead. “I’ve also wanted to kiss you since before forever.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, drawing closer to you.

You lean forward and capture his lips with yours, running your tongue along his bottom lip. He parts his mouth with a sigh, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. His other free hand comes to rest on the nape of your neck; you wind your arms around his neck. The position is a bit cumbersome—the edge of the chair digs into your thigh, and he nearly knocks his elbow on the back of his chair—but his touch is searing hot, the welcome kind, the kind that makes you crave more and more and more.

“You promise you won’t do it again?” you ask later, out of breath and flushed.

“I promise,” he says, and he links his pinkie finger with yours to seal the deal.

The thread tied around it glows golden.

#5. he doesn’t even believe in soulmates (but he’ll try)

“You can’t see it?”

“I’ve told you a million times already,” Jake says patiently, “but I can’t.”

“How?” You look at him dubiously. “It’s literally a glowing golden thread connecting you and me.”

“I don’t need a thread to connect us,” your boyfriend quips. “I can think of better uses for a rope.”

You make a sound of disgust. “We’re at the library.”

Jake Sim grins at you, all bright and shining and vivid. “So?”

Taehyun lets out a pointed cough, typing on his laptop. “There are other people here,” he says, motioning to Gaeul, Chaerin and Sunghoon. All three of them are very obviously avoiding your gaze. Even the tips of Taehyun’s ears are pink. You stifle a giggle.

“Sorry,” Jake says, not sounding sorry at all. He picks up your hand again, thumb brushing against the knuckle of your little finger, right above the knot where the golden string is tied. He whispers to you, next, “I just don’t believe in it.”

“I know,” you say. “But you’re missing out on a lot.”

Jake hums. “I don’t believe in soulmates. But I believe in you.”

You roll your eyes, ready to chew him out for being a sappy romantic again, when his next words make your heart stutter.

“I think that’s good enough for me.”