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me every day without fail: I'll do [chore] when I get home

me when I get home:

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me every day without fail: I'll do [chore] when I get home

me when I get home:

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I say this with a lot of love for the X Hunter boys but I truly hope Kim and Kenta move to Korea and never think about any of these people again lol. I hope Kenta never has to fight anyone ever again and instead uses his muscles exclusively to rail Kim up against every surface of their home (and vice versa, let’s be very clear). I hope Kim wins trophy after trophy and Kenta finds what he wants to do, whether that’s being a stay-at-home baddie, working, going to school, etc. I could see him being a pottery maker, just quietly making beautiful things in a studio they built for him in their home. I hope Kim’s family welcomes Kenta with open arms, makes him feel so loved and cherished, and he never doubts his worth ever again. I hope that with Kim, Kenta learns that his body was never made for violence, but for tenderness and pleasure. I hope their lives are filled with warmth, laughter, and mind-melting orgasms.

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this show keeps asking and answering the delicious, delicious question what's the thing, which button needs to be pushed for you to set your morals aside?

the fact that they're asking this about kim, the one who's guided by his morals the most, and the fact that the answer is kenta??? book me a room in the closest asylum

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PIT BABE 02.11

What if I never do? I don't really feel familiar with you. What if I let you down? You wont. Mama will do whatever it takes to help Papa remember.

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"I was born to be yours."

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The defeated and bloodied king was chained to kneel in front of his enemy and he says weakly: "Is my wife still alive?" His enemy nodded. "You fools," he said smirking, and the king starts laughing as the sounds of explosions getting closer shake the room.

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Long before the introduction of color film, a Russian chemist and photographer named Sergey Prokudin-Gorsky used an innovative technique. He took three individual black and white photos, each through a colored filter (red, green, and blue), to create fully colored, high-quality pictures. The photo of this woman, taken by him, is around 107 years old!

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You should get an AO3 account

With the rise of AI and the well known epidemic of AI companies scraping Ao3 for training data most authors on Ao3 have locked down their fics to logged in users only. This is unfortunate for authors and readers. As an author I've noticed a steep drop in readership on fics restricted to logged in users and when recommending fics to my friends I've noticed that the folks without an account can't find the fics. The logged in users only toggle, not only keeps people without an account from reading a fic, but also from seeing its listing at all. More than 50% of fics I come across have this setting turned on. So, you should get an AO3 account. I know this seems daunting and unfair because it's an invite only system but, you can invite yourself through the homepage if you don't already have one, and in the past few years I've never heard of someone who requested an invitation through this method, not getting one. And for those of you who are hesitant because you don't write, that's okay. It's not weird at all to click on a commenter username and find that they have 0 works and 10,000 bookmarks. It might take a week for the invitation to actually show up, but I can almost guarantee you will get one, just keep an eye on your email. It's free to join and donations are optional. You'll have more to read if you have an account and maybe give your favorite author the chance to protect their work from AI without a loss of readership and feedback.

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These chat gpt kids will never understand how challenging it was to use brainly.com for answers.

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bro when i tell you i wasn't prepared to be stabbed in the heart like this, the knife twisting itself deeper as each paragraph goes by. felt weirdly personal, and now i am reeling breathlessly, hoping kim puts himself FIRST just for once, for his own sake, keeping aside kenta and just. letting kenta come to him. realise what he's missing out on.

What Would Kim Do?

Okay okay—so I want Kim’s POV of Kenta being taken captive. Yes, he knows the kind of person Kenta is. He knows Kenta was raised alone, taught to deal with his problems alone. He knows Kenta’s default setting is self-sacrifice, that he was never taught how to lean on people. And the few times he has tried? They’ve thoroughly, absolutely ruined him. Kim knows this is all new territory for Kenta. He knows Pete has been the only constant in Kenta’s life—romantic feelings or not, Pete is still the only common denominator he has. He trusts him.

He also knows Kenta is dead-set on destroying Tony, on helping them rid the world of that monster. Kenta’s priorities are locked in—laser-focused on the bigger picture, the greater good. But no matter how much Kim rationalizes Kenta’s silence, it doesn’t make the ache in his heart hurt any less.

The thing is, it’s not about trust. Kim trusts Kenta. He trusts him to do what needs to be done and to do it with every ounce of ability he has. The pain comes from when it’s happening—after the kiss. After the conversation where Kim told him to stop running. To stop running to Pete. To think about his feelings, their feelings. Kim told him—in every way he knew how—that Kenta would always have him. No matter what. No matter when. Kenta would always have Kim to lean on.

If this had all happened before Kim had said anything—before he’d laid his heart out like a damn offering—maybe he could dull the sting. Maybe he could tell himself it didn’t mean anything. But now? Now Kenta knows. And he still chooses to communicate with Pete, and Pete alone.

Kim isn’t blaming anyone. He’s not pointing fingers, not trying to be angry at the choices people make to survive. It’s just—by now, he had hoped Kenta would’ve seen his affections for what they were.

And then there’s the whole thing with Kenta specifically telling Pete not to send backup. Not to involve anyone else. Kim gets it, he really does. He understands the sentiment. He knows Kenta has never been the kind to ask for help—not openly. Not ever. So Kim isn’t angry. But every single time he asks Pete, “Are you sure?”

“Are you sure Kenta’s okay?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t need help?”

Every time Pete says something like, “Kenta said he didn’t need it,” or, “Kenta told us not to”—it’s like a knife. A knife being driven into the same spot, over and over again.

And don’t get me wrong—I’m not trying to minimize Kim’s feelings, reduce him to bare strings waiting to snap the moment there’s distance or rejection. I’m just saying—I’m hurt for him. Because he’s so eager to love Kenta. And it’s understandable that Kenta moves slow. That he’s hesitant, cautious, bruised by history. But a text? An “I’m okay”? A fucking emoji? A missed call? A goddamn typing bubble—anything. You just know Kim has his phone open on Kenta’s chat 24/7, just in case something—anything—comes through for him.

And I know for a fact Kim stays up every night, waiting. Because even if Kenta tells him to trust him, there’s no way he’s not falling apart with worry. But he lets Kenta make the choices he needs to make.

Sorry, I got a bit carried away—but my point is: I want a reality where Kim starts second-guessing whether Kenta actually cares for him. Because when Kenta asked, “Are you coming with me or not?” Kim thought that was a step forward. He believed it meant something. And now? Now he’s faced with this wall of silence. Of absence. Of cold distance.

There’s no way my baby wouldn’t be disheartened. Maybe Kim starts settling into the idea that Kenta’s just not interested. That this—whatever it was—was never going to be anything more. Maybe it is rejection. Subtle, quiet, unbearable.

And again—he’s not mad. He’s not mad at Kenta. He’s not mad at Pete. He’s not even mad at the rejection. He’s just furious at the hope. The kindling in his heart that keeps sparking—only to get snuffed out by reality.

Maybe Kim finally realizes the truth: that Kenta doesn’t want him. That—just like Pete—Kenta never felt anything real for him.

I’m not saying that’s going to change how Kim feels. But maybe it changes how much he shows. Maybe he starts to close off, just a little. Maybe, piece by piece, he retreats into himself. Because the longer Kenta is away, the more he questions if Kenta will ever come back.

He doesn’t have the answer.

Or maybe he does.

But either way, it’s all coming crashing down.

Am I selfish for also wanting Pete to be the one who tells Kim to go rescue Kenta—after realizing the new truth that’s settled over Kim’s heart? Like, “He trusts you the most,” and Kim just thinks, No, he doesn’t. But he says okay anyway, because he hasn’t quite reached the point where he’s hardened his heart completely. Not yet. Even if every passing day feels like Kenta choosing to speak only to Pete and no one else. And Kim still just wants to see him safe. To see Kenta. Out of there. Alive. So he agrees.

And when he does find Kenta—roped up, or chained, or something brutal like that—Kim drops to his knees and undoes the knot without thinking. Just asks, quietly, “Are you okay?” And Kenta says, “I’m fine,” but Kim can see the gashes, the bruises, torn clean through the rips in his shirt. And he adds it—silently, tiredly—to the growing list of reasons why he needs to start locking his feelings up tighter: Kenta still doesn’t trust him enough to tell the truth.

And then, just as Kim is reeling from that, Kenta says, “Where’s Kim? The others? Are they still here?” And there it goes—Kim’s last stupid sliver of hope that maybe Kenta would say he missed him. Or that he’s glad Kim came. Or even apologize for the silence. But no. Kenta just wants intel. Wants reassurance that everyone else is safe.

Kim takes a breath. He knows Kenta doesn’t mean it like that. It’s not personal. He tells himself that. He tells Kenta what he wants to know—“Pete and Chris are in the lab. The others are on the fourth floor.” Something like that. And Kenta’s only response is, “We should go help them. They probably need it.”

And Kim’s hands would probably shake. Because Kenta will give help to everyone, but never let himself receive it. Never let himself need.

So Kim nods. Even though it’s against Pete’s plan of “get Kenta out of there.” Because logically, Kenta’s right—they probably do need help. So Kim hands over his extra gun. Hands Kenta his blade. Doesn’t look at his face—can’t look. Can’t risk seeing worry etched there for everyone else but him.

They run. Up the stairs, around the corner. Kim keeps his ears sharp, tracking Kenta’s footsteps behind him, listening for anything off in his breathing, anything that might mean pain. Because Kenta would never admit it, not even now. Kim leads the way, relying on the map etched into his memory.

He’s so focused on Kenta—on his pace, his breath, his silence—that he misses the sound of gunfire. Until Kenta yanks him back just seconds before a bullet could’ve taken him out. And Kenta’s hand is wrapped around his wrist. Tight. And Kim’s heart has the audacity to flinch, to leap, to hope.

But he shuts it down. Because he’s seen this film before, and he didn’t like the ending. Back then, hope was fair game. Now? Now it’s just reckless.

So he steadies himself. Slowly, gently, he pulls away. Takes Kenta’s hand off him without a word.

Don’t get me wrong—I want them to kiss. I want them to kiss and end this whole emotionally devastating circus just as much as—if not more than—anyone else. I want them to have their soft moment, to finally collapse into each other’s arms, safe and warm and wanted. I want the warmth, the resolution, the overdue comfort. I wouldn’t change a single thing about the series—not one damn moment—but my brain has been fermenting, and you know it’s never once let a heartbroken character just... breathe. Not once. So here I am, spiralling. That said, I really want to know what you all think—honestly. Do you think Kim would pull away, even just a little? Quietly protect himself before he breaks? Or do you think he’d double down, push harder, desperate to prove that love means staying, even now?

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Writing is basically falling in love with an idea,

then immediately doubting if you're good enough for it.

Love at first sight quickly turns into anxiety at first paragraph.

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Can you care about how I feel, too? Not just Pete all the time?

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i did, and yk, i feel like shekhar reached out only because of the soft spot that he had for jayvrath, and jayvrath refused to be the only one falling, so he took shekhar with him as they fell into the water. and i am damn sure jayvrath saved shekhar because shekhar couldn't swim— that was his only weakness, and yepp, both of them lived happily ever after :')

WHAT DO YOU MEAN JAYVRATH IS M????? WHAT THE FUCK

HES SUPPOSED TO BE JOHNN NOOOOOO

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As a society we have benefited so much from successful public health measures that we now have the privilege of declaring that we must not need them anymore

Bitch before enriched flour, neural tube defects like spina bifida were far more common. Even now, spina bifida clinicians and researchers are begging to have salt and maize fortified to reach groups that don’t use as much flour. Before iodized salt, the United States had a fucking GOITER BELT. Eleven years after the introduction of fluoridated water, a city in Michigan found the rate of dental caries among school children dropped a staggering 60%— in an era where tooth decay regularly fucking killed people

I’m literally not even going to start on vaccines, which are among the most successful and robustly studied public health measures in world history

You might say “oh well today we all have access to vitamins and toothpastes and dentists so we don’t need those things in our food supplies” and boy do white people on social media loooove to fucking say that. But here’s the thing: no, people don’t all have easy access to those things. That’s privilege talking yet again