#function in our measure

[a-godman]

The Building up of the Body is by the Perfected Members Functioning in their Measure

The building up of the Body of Christ is by the perfected members of the Body functioning in their measure. Christ promised that He will build up His church, and He does it by first giving the gifts to the Body and then having the gifted members perfect the saints in the divine dispensing so that the perfected saints may be able to do the work of the ministry, that is, to build up the Body of…

[nyaskitten]

...Y'know how Ninjago isn't meant to line up with real world calendars, but they reference the invention of the treadmill in 1818? And y'know how it seems like some point in the past 50+ years Ninjago hit some MAJOR advancements in technology, which got them to the point of video games only like 30 years later?

How do we KNOW when referring to Ninjago years, that they live in the 21st century like us? For all we know, in Ninjago the treadmill was only 50 years ago, and the year is only like 1868 in hands of time (1876 in dragons rising)... You can't prove otherwise, can you?

[fozmeadows]

there is no ethical consumption under capitalism

Years ago now, I remember seeing the rape prevention advice so frequently given to young women - things like dressing sensibly, not going out late, never being alone, always watching your drink - reframed as meaning, essentially, "make sure he rapes the other girl." This struck a powerful chord with me, because it cuts right to the heart of the matter: that telling someone how to lower their own chances of victimhood doesn't stop perpetrators from existing. Instead, it treats the existence of perpetrators as a foregone conclusion, such that the only thing anyone can do is try, by their own actions, to be a less appealing or more difficult victim.

And the thing is, ever since the assassination of United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson, I've kept on thinking about how, in this day and age, CEOs of big companies often have an equal or greater impact on the day to day lives of regular people than our elected officials, and yet we have almost no legal way to redress any grievances against them - even when their actions, as in the case of Thompson's stewardship of UHC, arguably see them perpetrating manslaughter at scale through tactics like claims denial. That this is a real, recurring thing that happens makes the American healthcare insurance industry a particularly pernicious example, but it's far from being the only one. Because the original premise of the free market - the idea that we effectively "vote" for or against businesses with our dollars, thereby causing them to sink or swim on their individual merits - is utterly broken, and has been for decades, assuming it was ever true at all. In this age of megacorporations and global supply chains, the vast majority of people are dependent on corporations for necessities such as gas, electricity, internet access, water, food, housing and medical care, which means the consumer base is, to all intents and purposes, a captive market. We might not have to buy a specific brand, but we have to buy a brand, and as businesses are constantly competing with one another to bring in profits, not just for the company and its workers, but for C-suites and shareholders - profits that increasingly come at the expense of workers and consumers alike - the greediest, most inhumane corporations set the financial yardstick against which all others are then, of necessity, measured. Which means that, while businesses are not obliged to be greedy and inhumane in order to exist, overwhelmingly, they become greedy and humane in order to compete, because capitalism encourages it, and because there are precious few legal restrictions to stop them from doing so. At the same time, a handful of megacorporations own so many market-dominating brands that, without both significant personal wealth and the time and resources to find viable alternatives, it's all but impossible to avoid them, while the ubiquity of the global supply chain means that, even if you can keep track of which company owns which brand, it's much, much harder to establish which suppliers provide the components that are used in the products bearing their labels. Consider, for instance, how many mainstream American brands are functionally run on sweatshop labour in other parts of the world: places where these big corporations have outsourced their workforce to skirt the already minimal labour and wage protections they'd be obliged to adhere to in the US, all to produce (say) electronics whose elevated sticker price passes a profit on to the company, but without resulting in higher wages for either the sweatshop workers overseas or the American employees selling the products in branded US stores.

When basically every major electronics corporation is engaged in similar business practices, there is no "vote" our money can bring that causes the industry itself to be better regulated - and as wealthy, powerful lobbyists from these industries continue to pay exorbitant sums of money to politicians to keep government regulation at a minimum, even our actual votes can do little to effect any sort of change. But even in those rare instances where new regulations are passed, for multinational corporations, laws passed in one country overwhelmingly don't prevent them from acting abusively overseas, exploiting more desperate populations and cash-poor governments to the same greedy, inhumane ends. And where the ultimate legal penalty for proven transgressions is, more often than not, a fine - which is to say, a fee; which is to say, an amount which, while astronomical by the standards of regular people, still frequently costs the company less than the profits earned through their unethical practices, and which is paid from corporate coffers rather than the bank accounts of the CEOs who made the decisions - big corporations are, in essence, free to act as badly as they can afford to; which is to say, very. Contrary to the promise of the free market, therefore, we as consumers cannot meaningfully "vote" with our dollars in a way that causes "good" businesses to rise to the top, because everything is too interconnected. Our choices under global capitalism are meaningless, because there is no other system we can financially support that stands in opposition to it, and while there are still small businesses and companies who try to operate ethically, both their comparative smallness and their interdependent reliance on the global supply chain means that, even if we feel better about our choices, we're not exerting any meaningful pressure on the system we're trying to change. Which means that, under the free market, trying to be an ethical consumer is functionally equivalent to a young woman dressing modestly, not going out alone and minding her drink at parties in order to avoid being raped. We're not preventing corporate predation or sending a message to corporate predators: we're just making sure they screw other worker, the other consumer, the other guy.

All of which is to say: while I'd prefer not to live in a world where shooting someone dead in the street is considered a valid means of redressing grievances, what the murder of Brian Thompson has shown is that, if you provide no meaningful recourse for justice against abusive, exploitative members of the 1%, then violence done to those people will have the feel of justice, because it fills the void left by the lack of consequences for their actions. It's the same reason why people had little sympathy for the jackass OceanGate CEO who killed himself in his imploding sub, or anyone whose yacht has been attacked by orcas - it's just intensified here, because where the OceanGate CEO was felled by hubris and the yachts were random casualties, whoever killed Thomspon did so deliberately, because of what he did. It was direct action against a man whose policies very arguably constituted manslaughter at scale; a crime which ought to be a crime, but which has, to date, been permitted under the law. And if the law wouldn't stop him, can anyone be surprised that someone might act outside the law in retaliation - or that regular people would cheer for them when they did?

[atlas-jack]

hey when a disabled person says theyre tired, theyre most likely lying. what they mean is that they are so utterly EXHAUSTED that theyre struggling to function.

i suffer with terrible fatigue as part of my condition and i find it hard to partake in hobbies i enjoy, nevermind hardwork, when it hits. which is a lot of the time. i sometimes sleep 10+ hours a night and still have to take a nap.

before i started seeing doctors abt my condition, people would always ask how i am when i was at work and when id answer id always get 'youre always tired!'

the worst one was the guy who turned round to me and went 'you dont have kids, you dont know what tired is.'

girl, if most able-bodied people were operating at the levels i operate at most days, they wouldnt have the energy to get out of bed or feed themselves. some days i cant do that and i live like this every day. some days i become so exhausted i cannot form words.

idk man chronic fatigue is not just 'being tired all the time'. its debilitating. imagine not eating because you dont have the energy to lift cutlery or chew. imagine being so drained that you physically cannot talk. imagine having to wait until someone else is home to go to the bathroom because you dont have the energy to get there alone.

some of us live like this and when you measure our worth based on what we contribute, it becomes a depressing existence.

[reasonsforhope]

"The coral reefs of south Sulawesi are some of the most diverse, colorful and vibrant in the world. At least, they used to be, until they were decimated by dynamite fishing in the 1990s.

As part of a team of coral reef ecologists based in Indonesia and the UK, we study the reefs around Pulau Bontosua, a small Indonesian island in south Sulawesi...

In many places around the world, damage like this might be described as irreparable. But at Pulau Bontosua, the story is different. Here, efforts by the Mars coral restoration program have brought back the coral and important ecosystem functions, as outlined by our new study, published in Current Biology. We found that within just four years, restored reefs grow at the same rate as nearby healthy reefs.

Speedy recovery

The transplanted corals grow remarkably quickly. Within a year, fragments have developed into proper colonies. After two years, they interlock branches with their neighbors. After just four years, they completely overgrow the reef star structures and restoration sites are barely distinguishable from nearby healthy reefs.

The combined growth of many corals generates a complex limestone (calcium carbonate) framework. This provides a habitat for marine life and protects nearby shorelines from storm damage by absorbing up to 97% of coastal wave energy.

We measured the overall growth of the reef framework by calculating its carbonate budget. That's the balance between limestone production (by calcifying corals and coralline algae) and erosion (by grazing sea urchins and fishes, for example). A healthy reef produces up to 20kg of reef structure per square meter per year, while a degraded reef is shrinking rather than growing as erosion exceeds limestone production. Therefore, overall reef growth gives an indication of reef health.

At Pulau Bontosua, our survey data shows that in the years following restoration, coral cover, coral colony sizes, and carbonate production rates tripled. Within four years, restored reefs were growing at the same speed as healthy reefs, and thereby provided the same important ecosystem functions...

Outcomes of any reef restoration project will depend on environmental conditions, natural coral larvae supply, restoration techniques and the effort invested in maintaining the project. This Indonesian project shows that when conditions are right and efforts are well placed, success is possible. Hopefully, this inspires further global efforts to restore functioning coral reefs and to recreate a climate in which they can thrive."

-via Phys.org, March 11, 2024

[idkimnotreal]

i'm not sure up to which point people praising me for positive change/progress is due to medication, and if that's a good thing or not.

progress on medication is still progress. but often people will tell me nice things and i'll just be like (internally) "yeah... you just saw me on clonazepam/ritalin".

[a-godman]

Our Priestly Service must Originate from God and be According to His Limitation

As believers in Christ who are part of the holy and royal priesthood, we carry out our priestly service to the Lord; this service must originate from Him as the God of measure, and it must be according to His leading and His limitation. Amen! This week we have been enjoying the matter of life and building in the Epistles of Peter; the central thought of Peter’s Epistles and of the entire…

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

“My wife.”

synopsis idea by: @starlitfool 🙏 “y'all remember when caleb had mc pretend to be his girlfriend back in college? i offer now to the caleb girlies council this consideration: mc pretending to be the colonel's wife at some farspace fleet gala/function/thing. thank u and goodnight”

The gala was a spectacle of power and politics, a glittering battlefield where words were weapons and alliances were forged under the weight of duty. Officers and dignitaries wove through the crowd, their conversations laced with veiled threats and rehearsed charm. It was the kind of event Caleb had attended a thousand times before—where appearances mattered more than truth, where strength was measured not in victories but in perception.

But tonight, none of it mattered.

Because you were on his arm.

Draped in elegance, fitting so seamlessly into the role of his wife that it made something dark and possessive curl inside him, something that had never truly left since the first time he heard you call yourself his.

It had started as a necessity, a calculated move—the Colonel’s wife carried more weight than any civilian could, allowed access, turned heads, ensured questions wouldn’t be asked. But it wasn’t the first time.

Years ago, when you were both younger, when his obsession was still something new and raw and barely contained, he had pulled you into his orbit with a simple phrase—play along, sweetheart. You had been surrounded by vultures then too, leering eyes and unwanted attention, and Caleb had hated it. Hated the way they thought they could look at you, let alone speak to you.

So he had intervened.

Wrapped an arm around your waist. Let his gaze burn through anyone foolish enough to challenge his claim. Felt something primal settle deep in his bones when you leaned into him, trusting him to play the part.

But that was a lie, wasn’t it?

Because there was no acting when it came to you.

He had never truly stopped seeing you as his.

And tonight was no different.

His fingers pressed against the small of your back, just firm enough to remind you that he was there, that you belonged beside him. The men he spoke with were high-ranking, powerful in their own right, but none of them held his attention.

Not the way you did.

You shifted slightly, polite smile never faltering as you listened to the conversation, but he felt the way you tensed when someone’s gaze lingered too long.

His grip tightened.

A silent warning.

You exhaled softly, leaning the smallest fraction closer, and it nearly undid him.

He had fought in wars, survived battles that left others broken, but nothing—nothing—unraveled him the way you did.

“You’re perfect like this,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, meant only for you.

You inhaled sharply.

He felt it against his skin, the way your body reacted before your mind could catch up. The way you stiffened—not in fear, but in awareness.

And Caleb lived for it.

The night stretched on, a blur of empty pleasantries and strategic conversation, but his focus never wavered. Every time someone so much as glanced in your direction, his hold on you tightened. Every time your gaze flicked to his, searching for something—reassurance? Permission?—he was already there, already watching, already owning the space between you.

By the time the gala ended, he had you pressed against his side, guiding you toward the exit with the same quiet authority he always carried. You let him, falling into step as if it were natural. As if this wasn’t temporary.

As if you were his.

The car was waiting, sleek and dark, windows tinted to keep the outside world from seeing what was his to protect. The door shut behind you, locking the two of you away in the silence of the night.

For the first few minutes, neither of you spoke.

Then—

You frowned slightly, glancing out the window.

“Caleb… this isn’t the ride to my apartment.”

His lips twitched. Not quite a smirk. Not quite not one either.

“I meant our home,” he murmured, voice slow, deliberate.

The words hung between you, thick with something unspoken, something dangerous.

He watched the realization settle in, the way your body stiffened beside him, the way your breath hitched.

His gaze was already waiting when you turned to him, violet eyes gleaming in the dim interior.

And then—he leaned in.

Slowly.

A measured, predatory shift, invading your space without hesitation, letting his warmth, his presence, his ownership wrap around you entirely.

“You were my wife all night,” he murmured, voice deceptively soft. “You don’t want to stop now, do you?”

Your lips parted—whether to protest or to agree, he didn’t know. Didn’t care.

Because your body told him everything.

The way your pulse fluttered at your throat. The way your fingers curled against your lap, as if resisting the urge to reach for him. The way your breath caught when his hand—flesh this time, warm and possessive—tilted your chin just enough to keep you from looking anywhere but at him.

And then, quieter, more intimate—

“My wife wouldn’t leave me alone tonight.” A pause. A slow drag of his gaze down to your lips, then back up. “Would she?”

You swallowed hard.

And Caleb knew.

Knew that he had you again.

Just like before. Just like always.

But this time—

This time, he wouldn’t let you go.

[prokopetz]

You've talked before about how "generic" ttrpg systems still contain hidden assumptions about genre, story, playstyle, etc. (e.g. gurps and military scifi/fantasy) how do you figure out what those assumptions are? what should you look for in the rules to find them?

That's a fairly involved question for which a full answer is beyond the scope of a Tumblr post (even my notoriously long-winded ones!), but I find that a good place to start is with the "who gives a shit?" principle.

For example, suppose that the first piece of mechanically significant information on a game's character sheet is a statistic called "Strength", rated on a scale from one to ten.

Who gives a shit?

That is, why do we care how strong player characters are? Why do we care about having a definite, codified answer at our fingertips to the question of which characters are stronger than other characters, to a fair degree of precision? Why does any of this matter? What assumptions are we making about the nature of the conflicts that will be present within the game's narrative?

That's a fairly trivial case, but the principle can be extended to more fundamental features of a game's rules. Let's consider the classic Dungeons & Dragons style skill check, for example: roll a die, add a stat, compare to a target number, pass or fail. What assumptions are we encoding about the nature of conflict in this game?

Well, for a start, these assumptions might include:

The assumption that generating binary pass/fail outcomes for performing discrete physical, mental and social tasks is how most conflicts will be resolved;

The assumption that your game will benefit from these outcomes having a high degree of player-facing uncertainty;

The assumption that your game will benefit from this uncertainty containing a relatively high likelihood of complete failure;

The assumption that your game will benefit from the principal determinant of that likelihood of failure being some intrinsic and objectively measurable attribute of the acting character;

... and so forth.

If you're only familiar with Dungeons & Dragons and its very close imitators, these may seem like things you have to assume in order to have a functioning game, but there are a fairly specific set of conventions being expressed here. Why do we care about any of these things? Who gives a shit?

Even the first bullet point can easily be knocked down: one can imagine, for example, a game which simply assumes players can always choose to have their characters succeed at anything it's within the realm of possibility for them to do, and whose rules instead focus on providing a codified game-mechanical answer to the question of what that success will cost them, with the only uncertainty being whether the player is willing to pay that cost.

It's clear that a game which approaches conflict resolution in this way is expressing a strong set of genre assumptions. The trick is recognising that the industry-standard alternative (i.e., the D&D-style skill check) is equally laser-focused on a specific set of genre assumptions, in a way that's often rendered invisible by how common it is.

All of which is a very long-winded way of saying there isn't a simple checklist you can go down to identify a game's genre assumptions. But then, I warned you way up in the opening sentence that this would be the case – I hope I've at least given you a place to start!

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑻𝑯 𝑾𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

❛  you will not fall. i will not allow it.  ❜ ❛  i could torch him if you like. but you do seem attached.  ❜ ❛  you're making us look bad. stop it.  ❜ ❛  i chose him for his inability to relent.  ❜ ❛  at least i didn't let you fall to your death.  ❜ ❛  but i will not run. i wouldn't be standing here if i'd quit every time something seemed impossible to overcome.  ❜ ❛  the right way isn't the only way.  ❜ ❛  justice is not always merciful.  ❜ ❛  the reason we'll never be anything more than friends isn't because of your rules. it's because you have no faith in me.  ❜ ❛  i'm used to functioning in pain, asshole. are you?  ❜ ❛  in the darkest moments, it is our light that shines the brightest.  ❜ ❛  fear is not the enemy, but rather the catalyst for growth and bravery.  ❜ ❛  the only limits we have are the ones we set for ourselves.  ❜ ❛  courage is not the absence of fear, but the willingness to face it head-on.  ❜ ❛  going for blood today, are we, [name]?  ❜ ❛  i don't deserve you. but i'm going to keep you all the same.  ❜ ❛  there's nowhere in existence you could go that i wouldn't find you, [name].  ❜ ❛  you look all frail and breakable, but you're really a violent little thing, aren't you?  ❜ ❛  defenseless women have never been my type.  ❜ ❛  even when i'm not with you, there's only you.  ❜ ❛  there is no me without you.  ❜ ❛  i've been yours for longer than you could ever imagine.  ❜ ❛  i know exactly who and what you are, [name].  ❜ ❛  we're all broken in some way, but that doesn't mean we can't find beauty in the cracks.  ❜ ❛  if i get my hands on you, really, honestly get my hands on you, i don't know if i'll be able to stop.  ❜ ❛  she exists and i get turned on. i've come to accept that particular truth over the last year.  ❜ ❛  fuck, i'm never going to get enough of you, am i?  ❜ ❛  not that i wouldn't climb the man like a tree if presented with the right set of circumstances.  ❜ ❛  let me guess, you could smell my perfume. isn't that what always gives the heroine away in books?  ❜ ❛  do you boys just want to whip it out and measure? it would be faster.  ❜ ❛  hope is a fickle, dangerous thing. it steals your focus and aims it toward the possibilities instead of keeping it where it belongs - on the probabilites.  ❜ ❛  you can't make me fall in love with you and then die.  ❜ ❛  none of this is worth it without you.  ❜ ❛  i'm so wildly in love with you that i can't imagine what my life would look like without you in it. and i probably shouldn't have said that, but if we're doing this, then we're starting from a place of complete honesty.  ❜ ❛  you never considered that it was you i couldn't stay away from?  ❜ ❛  you turned oranges into a weapon, [name]?  ❜ ❛  you're going to be the death of me.  ❜ ❛  have you always been this tall?  ❜ ❛  no one stays friends forever, [name]. eventually those closest to us become our enemies in some way, even if it's through well-intentioned love or apathy, or if we live long enough to become their villains.  ❜ ❛  i need you to survive this, even if i hate that i still love you.  ❜

[blindmagdalena]

All of a Sudden, There You Are

3k. homelander x gn!reader. pining. pure fluff! an older fic that desperately needed cleaning up. rewritten for a consistent perspective and added 600-some words. gif credit. AO3 link.

As Homelander's stylist, it's your job to ensure he looks his best, whether he's saving the world or saving face in front of the cameras. After nearly a year servicing him, things between you change abruptly.

Familiarity and consistency feed a base need in all of us. So much of what is best in us is bound up in the permanence of those around us that it becomes the measure of our stability. For Homelander, there are precious few things in his life that offer him any such quality of solidarity. People come and go. It's the nature of the business that has always been his life.

He's stopped paying attention to the PA's, interns and other worker ants that rotate in and out. Their faces blend together in a bland sea of normality and mediocrity. They're little more than cogs in the machine of his contrastingly extraordinary life.

Funny, then, that you should catch his attention amidst the insectoid buzz of it all.

It happens quite abruptly. He's just sat down before a brightly lit vanity where it's your job to style his hair and makeup, as it has been for the last several months. You greet him good morning, as you do every time, but for whatever reason... He notices you today.

"Remind me, what's your name again?" Homelander asks, watching you draw a comb from your kit.

That visibly catches you off guard. You offer only a dumbfounded stare for a moment before snapping to attention, smiling sheepishly as you introduce yourself. The name doesn't sound familiar to him. Had he never actually asked? Probably not. There’s rarely a point in bothering.

He hums contemplatively. "You've been styling me for a while.”

"Yes, sir. About eight months now," you say, using the comb to begin working product through his hair. He’s fairly certain this is the most he's ever spoken to you in all that time.

That sounds like both a long while and yet no time at all. It's nothing in the grand scheme of his life, but in terms of the people he sees consistently, that puts you in a shockingly small pool of individuals. Inevitably they move on, whether by choice or because they’ve found a way to irritate him enough that he has them dismissed.

He can recall his last stylist not by their name or face, but by the way they’d always manage to spray product in his eyes. They hadn’t lasted two days. The one before that he can’t bring to mind a single detail of.

Typically humans only become exceptional to him for how they grate on his patience. You’ve somehow managed to avoid making yourself noteworthy in that regard. Before today you had served as little more than a properly functioning gear in the well-oiled machine of his life.

Now it's as though you suddenly exist to him. Blood, flesh, laughter and all.

"Gooood morning," he greets you the next day, once again triggering another flare of surprise in you. He’s aware of the strangeness of his initiation, but behaves as though he isn’t. He flashes you one of his trademark Hollywood grins.

"Good morning to you, sir," you say with an answering smile that catches his eye. You sound pleased, which tickles something pleasant in the back of his own mind. He likes how well you’re mirroring his shift in mannerism.

He waves his hand dismissively. "Please, Homelander is fine. You keep it awfully formal."

You're actually quite pretty, he notices. Not exceptionally so, not like the celebrities and figures of social influence that someone like him brushes shoulders with on a daily basis, but... pretty nonetheless. He doesn't remember you being this pretty before, and speculates while you work whether you've changed something about yourself. He cannot put his finger on what exactly that may be, though.

He’s perceptive when it comes to the things that matter. Until yesterday, you hadn’t.

You laugh sweetly, pushing your fingers through his hair. His eyes flutter shut as you do. You’re good with your hands, much better than the last stylist. He’s sure he made note of that at some point, but in the same way someone notices when a door stops squeaking. You take it for granted after the first time.

"I'm a creature of habit. Might take me a couple tries to adjust," you warn, covering his forehead with your palm as you spritz product into his hair. You never let any of that sticky crap get on his face, much less in his eyes. You take measures to ensure his comfort, even though he’s never scolded you. You seem to do it entirely out of reflex simply because you care enough to.

"Well, you've made it this far. You've got time to adjust," he says. Now that he's seen you, he finds that he doesn't care for the thought of you being gone. More than that, he starts actively looking forward to the time he spends in the chair with you. What used to be a monotonous aspect of the celebrity side of his life becomes a comforting ritual. 

The two of you chat with surprising ease, like old friends made new. He tells you about himself, vents to you about work and personal business alike. In turn he learns about you and the life you live beyond the time you share with him. It’s nothing extraordinary–not like his–but it's yours, and for some reason, that’s enough to make it interesting.

The more he grasps that you are an entire person outside of the service you provide him, the more he wants to know. He doesn’t give a fuck about your elderly cat, but he does like the way your voice changes when you talk about it. His mind drifts when you tell him these little anecdotes, and he wonders what you tell the people in your life about him. He wonders if your tone similarly changes when you do. Do you speak fondly of him? Days turn to weeks. Little by little, Homelander discerns small changes in himself. There’s a slight pep in his step these days. The sun feels a little warmer, the thrum of crowded events less irritating. His attitude towards interviews flips; even the ones he used to dread he begins to anticipate. He knows you’ll have him looking and feeling his finest. He knows that regardless of what awaits him, you’ll have something to say about it that will make it easier to smile for the cameras.

Thinking of you is sometimes all it takes.

When he has nothing on his schedule to be styled for, he sulks. On those days, he misses your laugh the most. 

He makes sure the products he keeps at home are the same as the ones you use. The smell of them reminds him of the smell of you, of your knock-off Dior perfume that fades too quickly after you apply it, which makes it just perfect for his keen sense of smell. The humble subtlety of you, your sincerity and gentleness, have become a boon against the unfeeling corporate reality of his life. On the days he does see you, he begins to miss you before he’s even left you. Now, as he walks to his next scheduled appointment with you, he’s painfully aware of the beat of his own heart. His stomach is twisting in on itself, though he isn’t hungry. If anything, he feels a little nauseous. The closer he gets to the door, the louder the cacophony inside of him becomes. Is he sick? That shouldn’t be possible, but he can’t understand what’s happening to him. Pausing just outside the door, he takes in a steadying breath.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Taking a moment to collect himself, he gives his face two quick pats on either side, shaking his head. Get it together, he tells himself, stepping into the dressing room. 

“Gooood morn–” Homelander cuts himself short, looking around the empty room. His brows pinch. He isn’t early. Pursing his lips, he takes a brief stroll about the room, clutching his hands behind his back. He peers down the hallway, cutting through the layers of wall with his vision. No sign of you on the grounds yet. He clicks his tongue. 

You’ve never been late. Unable to settle, he paces for a while. He has the thought to call you, but he realizes he doesn’t have your number. Why doesn’t he have your number? It seems such an obvious thing to have despite the fact he’s never needed it.

He’s just pulled out his cellphone to track it down from Ashley when the door suddenly opens and his head snaps up. The initial relief he feels is cut short, turning cold in his chest when the person who steps through the door is most definitely not you. “Good morning!” the woman greets him, her voice chirpy and grating in his ears. She’s not really happy to see him. She doesn’t know the first fucking thing about him. At most, she’s another sycophantic drone who’s only pleased to breathe his air. In his upset, she looks freakishly distorted, her smile overly wide and fake. His leather gloves creak as he curls his hands into fists. “Who the fuck are you?” he asks, voice as measured as he can manage it. His anger hits in an unreasonable surge, hot like lava from a volcano. This woman’s only crime is the fact she’s not you, and yet it’s enough to make him want to rip her head off her shoulders, spine and all. The woman hesitates in the doorway, her chipper demeanor flipping to a fearful one. “Uhm, my name is Lisa, I’m supposed to style you to–” “Where is my stylist?” he interrupts her, prowling towards her like a hungry predator. He says again, louder this time, voice full of anger and anxiety in equal measure, “Where the fuck is my stylist?!” “I– I don’t know!” Lisa yelps, stepping backwards from him. “I was called in as a last minute replacement! They said– they said there was an accident, or–” Homelander pushes her roughly out of the doorway, blowing past her with a frustrated growl. She hits the wall hard before crumpling to the floor like a lifeless sack of potatoes, but he doesn’t even register it. He calls Ashley, stalking down the hallway, his footfalls loud with fury. Why the fuck didn’t anyone think to tell him? “Ashley!” He snarls into his phone the second she answers. “Tell me where the fuck my goddamn stylist is.”

Homelander is at the hospital within minutes. The staff puts up a meager effort to enforce protocols, but he’s The Homelander, and after a lie or two, they eventually let him through. He hates the smell of hospitals. The sickly mix of bleach and illness, the buzzing of the fluorescent lights. They never should have brought you here. You should be in Vought’s med ward.

You should be with him. When he finds you, you’re sitting with the hospital bed halfway reclined, wearing nothing but a hospital gown. The vibrant reds and blues of his suit paint a sharp contrast to the stark white walls of the hospital room when he steps inside. You have a pudding cup in your hand, though you nearly drop it when you see him in the doorway. His hair is woefully unstyled, splayed loose in every direction from his flight. “H-Homelander,” you sputter, choking on your bite of pudding. You swallow, clearing your throat. He’s walking towards you. The closer he gets, the faster your heart beats in his ears. “What are you doing here?” “Are you okay?” He asks, blowing off your question entirely. He blinks and his vision flickers through your clothes and skin alike. He scans your body for internal damage, for broken or fractured bones. You’re not wearing a cast or anything, but he needs to be sure. You nod, clutching at the blanket, wearing your confusion plainly on your face. “Yeah, I’m okay, it’s probably just mild whiplash, but I’m getting an x-ray to be–” “You’re fine,” he breathes more to himself than to you, his relief palpable. He can hear the flustered patter of your heart clearly. With the adrenaline wearing off, he’s beginning to feel that sickly familiar feeling that he had experienced in the hallway; butterflies rampant in his stomach, battering their wings frantically inside him. His jaw feels tight, his tongue too big for his mouth. Staring at you now, frail and precious as you are in this ugly hospital bed, he realizes what’s the matter–what has always been the matter–he is deeply and incurably in love with you. “Are you okay?” You ask, taking in his tortured expression, his wildly wind-swept hair. The obvious concern in your voice and in your eyes churns his already twisting gut. “No,” he says, the response knee-jerk. Even though the room is still, he feels as though the world is spinning around him. “No, I think I’m in love with you,” he says, expression twisted up, like he’s figuring out each word as he says them. Your heart skips a beat, your breath catches in your lungs. It’s as if the words have paralyzed you. Homelander laughs. It sounds a little hysterical. 

“I’m telling you all of a sudden, but it isn’t new with me,” he says, reaching out to cup either side of your face in his gloved hands. “I love you,” he says, voice firmer now, the realization setting in fully. He looks slightly delirious with it. He’s discovered a secret that he should have known all along, that seems so obvious in hindsight. Of course he loves you, because you love him. The gentleness in your hands as you touched his face, the care in your fingers stroking through his hair far longer than both of you knew you needed to. You dedicated yourself like no other to showing him reverence in service of him, and is that not love in its purest form? And yet, you don’t look to share his elation. You look like you’ve been struck by lightning, expression wide and bewildered. You still haven’t taken a breath. Homelander’s smile falters. “What’s the matter?” He asks, tone dropping a touch. “This is good news! Great, even.” For every second that you do not speak, the beat of his heart feels heavier in his chest. Why don’t you look happy? Finally, you suck in a shaky breath. He watches you with all the intensity of a viper poised to strike.

“I…” You hesitate. You lift your hands and grip his wrists, squeezing them through the thick fabric of his gloves as if to convince yourself that he’s really there. Maybe the accident was worse than he thought. Did you hit your head? 

Panic swells in his chest. It hadn’t occurred to him you might not reciprocate. The thought makes him ill.

“I never…” your eyes turn glassy, welling with tears. “Say it!” he wants to shout, his own heart hammering loudly enough to nearly drown out your words.  “I never would have thought–or even dreamed–in a million years that you might love me back.”

love me back.

Like a dying ember roaring back to life, Homelander’s demeanor reignites, his faded smile broadening once more. 

“I realized it when I was worried fucking sick because you didn't show up,” he says, leaning closer to you. He’s brought the scent of ozone from the sky he tore through on his way to you, but all he cares about is the faint smell of pudding lingering on your lips.

He huffs a laugh. “They sent in some idiot to fill in for you. Like they could replace you. I almost tore her head off,” he says, giddy with euphoria. Your expression shifts, brows furrowing. “Wait, what? You almost-” “I’m gonna kiss you now,” he interrupts, his voice a low rumble. He can already taste you in the breaths you’re close enough to share with him, and he’s never been hungrier for anything–or anyone–in his life. You fall silent with a shiver, nodding minutely, eyes falling shut. “Please do.” His lips meet yours in a gentle press. He deserves a medal for not crushing you with the sheer magnitude of his desire. You all but melt against him, settling into his grip as smoothly as you settled into his life, his mind, his heart. When the two of you break apart, you make a breathless noise that shoots through him like a bolt of lightning. He feels hyper aware of your every sound and move.

God, how he wants to feel every part of you. 

You move your hands to touch his face and he leans into the softness of your caress. You’ve been close enough to kiss more times than he can count. The fact it’s only now occurred to him to do so seems like lunacy. Your eyes dip to his lips, your thumb brushes the bottom one. He catches it with a quick kiss and you laugh your sweet bell-chime laughter.

Pushing your hand into his hair, the wondrous joy in your expression becomes tinged with amusement. “And people wonder why I use so much gel,” you murmur, smooth the wild splay of his hair down with both hands, cupping the back of his head. Homelander smiles wide and boyishly, which prompts you to kiss him again.

“I’m not having some kind of brain bleed hallucination right now, right?” You ask quietly, the tip of your nose lightly pressed to his. He brushes his lips against yours between words. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he purrs, stroking your cheek with his thumb. Despite the ugly fluorescent lights and the dreadful hospital stench all around, you look resplendent in your joy.

He had been right. It was love that you touched him with. It had been subtle, imbued in your every movement, and for months he had soaked it up until, unbeknownst to him, he fell into it as well.

“Trust me when I say you’ll be seeing a lot more of me from now on,” he says, brushing your nose with his.

Maybe instead of tearing them limb from limb, he’ll send flowers to whoever the sorry son of a bitch that rear-ended you this morning was. Who knows how much more time he would have wasted before he realized he was utterly smitten with you.

[gomtotemeal]

And so a month after they built the fifth Wal-Mart in our county, a little coffee shop opened just a few yards away.  

My coworker Rick said it looked like a giant amoeba just waiting to absorb any surrounding properties.

“The coffee shop?” I asked.

“No, Wal-Mart is the amoeba.”

“Oh.”

When I got back to my desk, I typed ‘amoeba’ into Google and realized that I had incorrectly pictured a centipede.

“To hell with Rick,” I thought. “I don’t need any more friends, anyway. I’m on friend overload.”

At dinner that night, the Wal-Mart came up again when my wife Diane mentioned how ugly it was to see another gigantic shopping center taking up space in our town.

“It looks like a giant amoeba just waiting to absorb that little coffee shop,” I said. “And then the coffee shop is like a centipede.”

“I don’t think amoebas eat centipedes. And besides, that’s the point.”

Diane went on to explain that the coffee shop, though legitimate and functioning by all measures, was really an art piece constructed by a group of private donors in response to the new Wal-Mart.

“The idea is that we’re intentionally not supposed to go to the coffee shop. That way, Wal-Mart customers will be forced to observe the gradual decay of a local business every time they enter the store.”

“Well, I’ve been going there all week,” I said. “I think the coffee is top-notch stuff. Plus, it’s on my way to work.”

“The coffee is supposed to be mediocre,” said Diane. “Keeping within the budget of most struggling businesses. It’s supposed to be virtually undrinkable.”

“Hmm…well I really like it.”

“Well, you can’t keep going or else you’ll ruin the project.”

“This is America,” I said. “And if I want a cup of mediocre, overpriced coffee, by god I will have it!”

Over the next several months, I kept drinking the coffee. Some days I even went twice. The quality of the coffee, I was told, gradually worsened as a result of my unwavering interest, but I never noticed and so I had no choice but to doubt the rumors.

My doubt remained intact even after overhearing a private conversation between the coffee shop’s manager and the cashier. I was standing by a tree and watching a teenager back his car into another car and I guess they didn’t see me.

“I know,” said the cashier. “I’ve tried that, but it’s like he doesn’t have taste buds.”

“Well, he’s single-handedly fucking up this entire thing.”

“So what then, poison? Would he even drink poison?”

“Now, that’s an interesting idea.”

“Stupid teenage drivers,” I thought.

In the end, they poisoned the coffee. I made it a month after that, but my failing eyesight and ravaged kidneys eventually left me bed-ridden.

“Well, they just opened another location,” said Diane. “Business is booming. I hope you’re happy.”

And I wasn’t happy, but I was somehow content and I thought about everything then: Wal-Mart, art projects, even little amoebas crawling through the forest, one-hundred legs working beautifully in tandem.

“Nobody ever wins in these kinds of things,” said Diane.

“But if you had to pick a winner, you’d probably pick me because the coffee shop was on my way to work.”

Diane sighed and left the room. I dozed off and in my dream, they did pick a winner. They picked me and I was led over to a small stage to choose my prize: A brand new recliner or two new kidneys!

“The recliner,” I inquired. “How far back are we talking?”

[nasa]

Setting Sail to Travel Through Space: 5 Things to Know about our New Mission

Our Advanced Composite Solar Sail System will launch aboard Rocket Lab’s Electron rocket from the company’s Launch Complex 1 in Māhia, New Zealand no earlier than April 23, at 6 p.m. EDT. This mission will demonstrate the use of innovative materials and structures to deploy a next-generation solar sail from a CubeSat in low Earth orbit.

Here are five things to know about this upcoming mission:

1. Sailing on Sunshine

Solar sails use the pressure of sunlight for propulsion much like sailboats harness the wind, eliminating the need for rocket fuel after the spacecraft has launched. If all goes according to plan, this technology demonstration will help us test how the solar sail shape and design work in different orbits.

2. Small Package, Big Impact

The Advanced Composite Solar Sail System spacecraft is a CubeSat the size of a microwave, but when the package inside is fully unfurled, it will measure about 860 square feet (80 square meters) which is about the size of six parking spots. Once fully deployed, it will be the biggest, functional solar sail system – capable of controlled propulsion maneuvers – to be tested in space.

3. Second NASA Solar Sail in Space

If successful, the Advanced Composite Solar Sail System will be  the second NASA solar sail to deploy in space, and not only will it be much larger, but this system will also test navigation capabilities to change the spacecraft’s orbit. This will help us gather data for future missions with even larger sails.

4. BOOM: Stronger, Lighter Booms

Just like a sailboat mast supports its cloth sails, a solar sail has support beams called booms that provide structure. The Advanced Composite Solar Sail System mission’s primary objective is to deploy a new type of boom. These booms are made from flexible polymer and carbon fiber materials that are stiffer and 75% lighter than previous boom designs. They can also be flattened and rolled like a tape measure. Two booms spanning the diagonal of the square (23 feet or about 7 meters in length) could be rolled up and fit into the palm of your hand!

5. It’s a bird...it’s a plane...it’s our solar sail!

About one to two months after launch, the Advanced Composite Solar Sail System spacecraft will deploy its booms and unfurl its solar sail. Because of its large size and reflective material, the spacecraft may be visible from Earth with the naked eye if the lighting conditions and orientation are just right!

To learn more about this mission that will inform future space travel and expand our understanding of our Sun and solar system, visit https://www.nasa.gov/mission/acs3/.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[kings-highway]

haikyuu airport headcanons bc im in an airport. no particular order. shipping involved.

- Daichi has never missed a flight and somehow everyone manages to make fun of him for this. never forgets to pack anything. always finds his gate on time. "lmao loser," Suga says, missing 2 bags and lost as fuck across the airport. he will not make his flight.

- Hinata and Kageyama navigating an airport is nearly a crisis. They can never agree on the right way to go and especially during layovers will often end up outside of security. The first time they travel with Tsukki + Yama as a group it's like a goddamn miracle because they dont need to rush and everything goes smoothly.

- on that topic, Tsukki and Yamaguchi have travel down to a science. these bitches have checklists and schedules and just get in and out. Tsukki keeps the boarding passes and Yamaguchi counts the bags and they split snacks on the plane and just nail the whole affair

- Noya and Asahi are the most experienced travelers and have been to so many airports and you'd think this makes them good at airports and it does not

- Ushijima has never gotten through security without being searched.

- Oikawa likes airports an unreasonable amount. Bitch thrives in liminal spaces. "Lets go check out which stores are open," he says, as Iwaizumi begs him to let him sit down and nap during their layover

- Kenma has airport anxiety. "We're going to miss our flight. What if our gate changes?" What if there's a delay?" He does not like putting his schedule into the hands of an Airline. Rightfully so, he loses his luggage an obscene amount.

- Kageyama and Hinata fighting and causing a ruckus in the airport and security has to come over to talk to them

- Tendou and Ushijima are generally really prepared and on top of things, but they just seem to have the worst luck. They got stranded at an airport during a layover for like 14 hours and went through every stage of grief. It doesnt help that Ushijima is really practical and good at accepting circumstances ("I'll just sit here and wait") but Tendou is highly emotional ("I'm going to eat the next airline associate that tries to talk to me.")

- Daichi is often seen standing alone in airports. This is because no matter who he's traveling with, he's probably waiting for them to catch up.

- Aran thought he was a good and functional adult until he saw Kita's itinerary for their travel plans and how neurotic he was about making sure everything on time. Kita will pre-measure and weigh all luggage to know exactly whats going on. Looking at airport layouts days before to memorize what needs to be done.

- Atsumu and Osamu have never made a flight on time. The best they can hope for is sprinting across the airport at full-tilt. This is a common occurance.

- Oikawa makes friends wherever he goes so he doesnt mind long layovers, he'll just sit and chat with whoever is around to pass the time, but one time he did leave with a group to check out a store without saying anything and Iwaizumi was lost for 30 minutes

- Asahi has so much anxiety with airports. Too many people. Too many deadlines. Bad vibes. One time a guy in an airport gave him incorrect directions to a gate and he missed his flight and he has never recovered.

- Kuroo "Yeah we have tons of time" Tetsurou is a menace to airport staff and has never budgeted enough time.

- Tsukki is a master at packing efficiently and this is exclusively due to wanting to avoid others complaining. He can pull basically anything out of his carry-on to prevent whining on a 5 hour flight. Yamaguchi uses him like a vending machine.

- Daichi once got mistaken for an airline worker and ended up with a whole group of people he was helping find their gates

- Bokuto loves traveling and flying. He finds it so fun and exciting. This is probably why Akaashi hates traveling and flying.

- Suga secretly likes layovers because he secretly hates planes and cannot stand sitting still for that long. He always pretends it such a hassle to have to wait but its the best part of the travel day when he gets to buy himself a muffin and bother Daichi for entertainment.

- Ushijima, Daichi, Kenma, and Asahi are all team "No PDA in an Airport!!!!!" whereas Tendou, Suga, Kuroo and Noya are all team "We have 2 hours to kill let me make out with you!!!!"

- Yamaguchi has sooooooo many reward points. Tsukishima doesnt even know what he's doing to get them, he's just a master of good deals and specials.

- Mile High Club Members: Iwaoi, Bokuaka, Ushiten, and Asanoya

- Wannabe Mile High Club Members who cannot convince their boyfriends it'll be okay: Suga

- Wannabe Mile High Club Members that will NOT admit they think about it: Yamaguchi, Hinata, Kageyama, Aran

... well im boarding soon so thanks for reading ig

[coriihanniee]

WHEN YOU CRY OVER YOUR PET જ⁀➴

۶ৎ PAIRING : boynextdoor x gn!reader ۶ৎ GENRE(S) : established relationship, fluff, hurt, comfort ۶ৎ WARNING(S) : mentions of pet death/grief, emotional distress/crying, heavy emotional comfort from the boys, reader is overwhelmed, author got carried away at Leehan's (heh...) ۶ৎ WORD COUNT : 0.4k - 0.7k words

۶ৎ A/N : This was a request from my lovely @reibelhearts ! I hope this headcanon fic gives you the much needed comfort that you need! 💕 I understand how it feels to lose a beloved pet so I was more than willing to write this! To all our furry 🐶🐱 (and fishy 🐟 or feathery 🕊) friends who have crossed the bridge, you are so, so loved! 🫶

SUNGHO₍^. .^₎⟆

۶ৎ you didn’t mean to cry in front of him.

۶ৎ he’s been so busy lately—filming, rehearsals, barely getting enough sleep.

۶ৎ you kept it to yourself, thinking, "he doesn’t need to worry about this too."

۶ৎ you told yourself you'd be fine...

۶ৎ but when Sungho walks through the door, gym bag still slung over his shoulder, and asks, “Hey, baby. Have you eaten yet?”—something in you just breaks.

۶ৎ the way your face crumples and you look away too quickly. The way your voice doesn’t even make it out. He freezes.

۶ৎ “Wait—what’s wrong?”

۶ৎ you try to shake your head, but it’s too late. You’re already crying, and you can’t stop.

۶ৎ his bag hits the floor. He’s at your side in two seconds flat, kneeling down like you’re something precious he’s scared to touch too roughly.

۶ৎ you choke out the words. “They’re gone.” And he understands immediately.

۶ৎ “Oh… babe.” His voice is so soft. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

۶ৎ you just shake your head. “You’ve been so busy. I didn’t want to ruin your mood or mess things up for you—”

۶ৎ “You’re never ruining anything,” he cuts in, already pulling you into his arms. “You’re my person. If something hurts you, it matters.”

۶ৎ holds you close until your shoulders stop shaking. One arm around your back, one hand stroking your hair like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

۶ৎ Simba the cat slinks in slowly, drawn by the stillness. He pauses, sniffs the air like he’s picking up on your sadness, then hops into your lap without hesitation. Settles in. Purrs.

۶ৎ Sungho glances down. “He’s doing that thing again where he pretends he’s not affectionate, but he is.”

۶ৎ you sniffle, laughing a little through your tears. “Yeah… I can tell.”

۶ৎ he leaves for a bit and comes back with your favourite drink, a warm snack, and a tiny plushie that vaguely resembles your pet. “Simba helped me pick it out. I mean, he stared at it for three seconds, which I’m taking as a sign.”

۶ৎ you don't have to ask him to stay. He already is. Sitting cross-legged next to you, blanket pulled over both your legs, one hand resting gently on your knee. Just enough to remind you he’s there.

۶ৎ “You loved them really well,” he says after a long silence. “That’s why this hurts so much. That’s not something to be ashamed of.”

۶ৎ Simba curls up against your leg again, tail flicking lightly. Sungho adjusts your blanket. Then again. Then a third time for good measure.

۶ৎ you don’t say anything about it, just lean your head on his shoulder.

۶ৎ later, when you fall asleep mid-tears, you stir just enough to hear him whisper :

۶ৎ “I’m so sorry, love. You didn’t have to go through this alone.”

RIWOO ʢ·͡ᴥ·ʡ

۶ৎ you’d been texting him normally. Maybe quieter than usual, but nothing that would set off alarms. 

۶ৎ he was busy anyways—schedules, fan signs, a music show later that night. You didn’t want to weigh him down.

۶ৎ but something about your last message sits weird with him.

 ۶ৎ just a “hope rehearsal goes well” and a photo of your pet’s collar, sitting alone on the table.

۶ৎ Riwoo doesn’t reply right away, but he does show up at your doorstep unannounced. 

۶ৎ he knocks gently. Doesn’t say a word when you open the door with tear-swollen eyes and a barely functioning voice. Just holds out his arms, like of course he already knew.

۶ৎ when you finally manage to whisper, “I didn’t want to bother you,” he just sighs into your shoulder.

۶ৎ “You didn’t,” he murmurs. “I just… I know that look.”

۶ৎ he doesn’t flood you with questions or try to say anything deep. Instead, he walks into your apartment like it’s muscle memory, sets a plastic bag on the table, and pulls out your favourite drink and a weirdly cute rice ball shaped like a dog. 

۶ৎ “Not gonna lie,” he says quietly, “I panicked and just bought everything dog-shaped.”

۶ৎ you try to laugh and end up crying again instead. He doesn't flinch. Just lets you sob into his sleeve, gently rubbing your back in slow, grounding circles.

۶ৎ that evening, just when you think he’s about to leave, he kneels down by the front door and starts undoing a carrier bag. You blink. “Riwoo…?”

۶ৎ out pops Daebak—tail wagging, tongue out, already sniffing around your living room like he lives there.

۶ৎ “I figured,” Riwoo says, brushing invisible fur off his hoodie, “you might be too lonely tonight.”

 ۶ৎ he hands you a leash. “He’s loud. And dramatic. But he’s got good taste in people.”

۶ৎ you blink back another round of tears. “You’re letting me borrow your dog?”

 ۶ৎ “Just for tonight. Unless you need him longer. Then it’s... a long-term lease.”

۶ৎ the next few hours are quiet in the best way. You and Daebak curled on the couch, and Riwoo beside you with a portable speaker softly playing some lo-fi music.

۶ৎ he doesn’t ask you to talk about your pet unless you bring it up. When you do, his eyes don’t leave your face the entire time. He listens like he’s trying to memorize the way you describe them. 

۶ৎ “They sounded loyal,” he says eventually. “Like the kind of pet who’d follow you into hell and back.”

۶ৎ you nod. “They were.”

۶ৎ before he leaves, he sets down a Tupperware box. “Jjangyi’s food. Daebak’s picky.”

۶ৎ “Wait,” you say, panicking a little, “what if he misses you tonight?”

۶ৎ Riwoo shrugs. “He’s sleeping on your foot like he’s known you forever. I think he’s fine.”

۶ৎ and then, just as he’s pulling on his hoodie to head out, he turns back and says in that low, soft voice :

۶ৎ “I can’t bring them back… but I’ll come by tomorrow. With Jjangyi. So Daebak doesn’t get too smug.”

JAEHYUN ૮⍝• ᴥ •⍝ა

۶ৎ you didn’t want to tell him. He was already juggling a comeback, dance practices, and three unfinished voice notes he said he’d send “soon, I swear!!”

۶ৎ so you kept it to yourself. Until he dropped by after rehearsal—hair damp, hoodie sleeves rolled up, ranting about Woonhak eating his chicken.

۶ৎ “Can you believe him? He said I was chewing too loud. Too loud, babe. Am I supposed to chew silently now—hey, wait…”

۶ৎ he finally notices your red-rimmed eyes. Your silence. The way your lip trembles when you try to smile and say, “I’m fine.”

۶ৎ “You’re not,” he blurts, panic creeping into his voice. “You’re so not—what happened? Did someone say something? Did you get hurt? Did I do something?!”

۶ৎ you try to explain through broken words. That your pet passed away. That you didn’t want to tell him because he seemed happy and busy and you didn’t want to ruin that.

۶ৎ “Ruin—?” He looks offended. “RUIN?! Babe, if you stubbed your toe I’d cancel the whole schedule.”

۶ৎ he doesn’t try to cover up how crushed he looks.

۶ৎ “Oh no,” he whispers. “I know how much you loved them. I used to greet them when I walked in like they paid rent.”

۶ৎ pulls you into his chest, his grip tight and warm. He lets you cry, no rushing, no awkward patting—just firm, sweet comfort. Keeps whispering the same words over and over.

۶ৎ “You did your best. You loved them so well. They were so lucky to have you.”

۶ৎ later, once you’re curled up together on the couch, tissues everywhere, he suddenly looks very serious.

۶ৎ “Listen… I know nothing could ever replace them. And I’m not trying to—but like…” He reaches for his phone, pulling up a poorly lit screenshot of a baby hamster.

۶ৎ “What if… just what if… we get a little guy. Not to replace them. Just to give your heart something soft again. I’ll take care of it too!! I’ll feed it kale and whisper affirmations.”

۶ৎ you stare at him. “You want to get a hamster?”

۶ৎ “OUR hamster,” he corrects. “Joint custody. I’ll name it something cool like… Biscuit. Or President Cheeks.”

۶ৎ “…Jaehyun.”

۶ৎ “No no hear me out. They’re small. They’re fluffy. They store snacks in their cheeks. Just like you.”

۶ৎ he shows you another picture of a golden hamster in a tiny food bowl. “I saw this one online. Look at him. He’s shaped like a grain of rice.”

۶ৎ you squint at it, wiping your eyes. “Is that… Hanbin?”

۶ৎ Jaehyun short-circuits. “OH MY GOD YOU’RE RIGHT—WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE THIS.”

۶ৎ he doesn’t leave that night. Orders your comfort food. Makes a ridiculous ‘hamster Pinterest board’ on his phone full of tiny hats.

۶ৎ when you fall asleep with your head in his lap, he just sits there, stroking your hair, whispering :

“You’re not alone. Not now. Not ever. I love you.”

TAESAN ≽^- ˕ -^≼

۶ৎ You don’t want to burden him. 

۶ৎ Taesan’s got a lot on his plate right now—the group’s comeback, his family back in Gwangju, and his ever-ongoing worries about Dupal. So you try to keep it in.

۶ৎ that is, until you find yourself choking on your tears, alone in the apartment, barely able to breathe from the weight of the loss. 

۶ৎ you’re crying over your pet, the one you’ve spent so many years with, and it hurts in a way you didn’t expect.

۶ৎ Taesan knocks on your door later, his usual calm exterior cracking when he sees you, tears streaking down your face.

 ۶ৎ “What happened?” His voice is quieter than usual, genuine concern taking over.

۶ৎ you try to push him away, muttering, “I’m fine, Taesan. I just… need a minute.”

۶ৎ but he’s not buying it. He steps inside, looking at you with those dark eyes—the same eyes that often seem distant, but right now, they’re locked on you, focused entirely.

۶ৎ “No, you’re not. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

۶ৎ when you finally break down and admit that your pet passed away, that you didn’t want to tell him, his heart sinks. He already knows what it’s like to miss someone close.

۶ৎ “I… I get it,” he says softly, voice thick with emotion. He drops to his knees in front of you, his hand on your arm, squeezing gently.

۶ৎ “I know what it feels like to miss someone. Dupal’s not here, and I keep wondering if he’s forgotten me. I don’t want you to feel like that, too.”

۶ৎ he pauses, looking at you with a mix of vulnerability and strength. “I’m… not the best at comforting people. But I’ll sit here with you. I’ll listen. I won’t leave until you’re okay.”

۶ৎ instead of words, Taesan just stays with you. He pulls you into a tight hug, not saying anything but letting you know he’s there.

۶ৎ his hand runs through your hair like a slow, steady rhythm, soothing and calm, like he’s trying to carry some of your pain.

۶ৎ after a while, he pulls back, looking at you, his thumb gently brushing under your eye to catch a tear.

۶ৎ he doesn’t try to give you solutions or rush you through your grief. He just sits with you, the silence speaking volumes.

۶ৎ eventually, you end up sitting on the floor together, as he pulls out his phone and shows you a video of Dupal trying to chase after a car (unsuccessfully, of course), and you can’t help but chuckle through the tears.

 ۶ৎ “I hope he remembers me. Just like I’ll never forget him… And I’ll never forget you either.”

۶ৎ when he leaves for the night, he gives you a long, lingering hug, his hand resting on the back of your head. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Don’t keep it to yourself.”

LEEHAN ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

۶ৎ you hadn’t told him. You didn’t want to disturb him, especially when he was in the middle of his busy schedule. 

۶ৎ Leehan had been trying so hard to make sure everyone was good, especially the members, that you didn’t want to add to his plate.

۶ৎ but you couldn’t keep it in forever. You tried to push the sadness away, but it caught up with you when you least expected it. 

۶ৎ you’re sitting in your apartment, curled up on the couch, when you suddenly get a message from Leehan.

۶ৎ “Hey, Coni misses you! And I have some new fishes to show you, want to come over?”

۶ৎ you don’t respond right away. Instead, you let out a shaky breath. The offer seems so simple, but it reminds you of the pet you just lost. The one you cherished.

۶ৎ you try to talk yourself out of going, but before you know it, you’re heading to the dorms anyway. Maybe seeing Coni will help. Maybe seeing Leehan will help.

۶ৎ when you get there, he’s already in the living room, his arms spread wide as he greets you.

۶ৎ “Look who’s here! Coni’s been waiting for you all day!” He’s excited and cheerful, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he sees you standing in the doorway, quiet and looking like something’s off.

۶ৎ “You okay?” he asks gently, walking toward you and pulling you into a hug. “You’ve been on my mind today. Come on, I want to show you something!”

۶ৎ you let him guide you to the fish tank, the new fishes swimming around. He talks about them excitedly, and the way he describes them with such enthusiasm makes your heart ache. 

۶ৎ his eyes light up as he points out each one, naming them and describing their colours and quirks in a way that’s so Leehan—gentle, thoughtful, and full of joy. 

۶ৎ you can’t help but feel your heart melt a little, but also hurt because the memories of your pet flood in at the same time.

۶ৎ “This one here,” he says with a wide smile, pointing to a small, shimmering fish darting through the water. “This is a Runny Nose Tetra. Look at how it moves, so quick and lively. Reminds me of how much energy Coni has when he’s chasing his ball.” 

۶ৎ “And this is a Gold Gourami,” he continues, his voice full of admiration as he watches the golden fish glide gracefully through the tank. “She’s really calm. The kind that just floats around, not bothering anyone.”

۶ৎ he goes on, his voice light and warm as he explains the behaviour of each fish. You watch him talk about them with such affection, and the way he does makes your heart ache with the weight of your loss.

۶ৎ and then Coni comes bounding into the room, tail wagging so hard that his whole body wiggles. 

۶ৎ you can’t hold it in any longer. The weight of your loss catches up with you, and you break down, tears streaming down your face. The suddenness of it all takes you by surprise, and you feel a tightness in your chest.

۶ৎ Leehan doesn’t panic. He just wraps his arms around you, his voice soft as he says,

۶ৎ “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, babe. I get it. I know how it feels.”

۶ৎ he doesn’t push you to talk about it right away. He just sits with you, letting you cry against his chest.

۶ৎ his hand gently runs through your hair, and you feel the warmth of his embrace grounding you.

* “I know how much it hurts to lose someone you love,” he murmurs, his voice tender. 

۶ৎ “Coni, my fishes… I know they don’t live as long, but that doesn’t make it any easier. And… I know this pain. It’s terrible. But you don’t have to go through it alone.”

۶ৎ he pulls back slightly, wiping your tears away with his thumb, and then says something you weren’t expecting.

۶ৎ “I’ll take care of you, okay? We’ll get through this together. We don’t have to forget them, we just… keep their memories close. Like I do with my fish.”

۶ৎ Coni, noticing the sadness, nudges you gently with his nose. Leehan smiles softly, rubbing Coni’s head.

۶ৎ “See? Even Coni gets it. He’s here with you too.”

۶ৎ he makes you a warm drink and sits you down next to him. For the rest of the evening, it’s just the two of you, talking about the silly things Coni and his fishes do, sharing stories of your pets, and letting the grief come and go as it needs to.

۶ৎ before you leave, he kisses your forehead gently and says, “I’m always here for you. And if you need time, I’ll be right here. Whenever you’re ready.”

WOONHAK ʕ｡•ﻌ•｡ʔ

۶ৎ you kept convincing yourself : he’s busy, he’s practising, he’s probably tired, and you didn’t want to be the reason he slowed down. So you didn’t say anything when your pet passed away.

۶ৎ but grief doesn’t always stay quiet. And Woonhak? He just so happened to come over with snacks and that loud sunshine energy of his, flopping onto your couch like always and immediately dragging you into his world.

۶ৎ “Guess who brought peach gummies and terrible horror movies we’re gonna regret watching at 2AM? That’s right. Your favorite genius.”

۶ৎ you force a smile. Try to laugh. Try to keep up. But somewhere between his fifth dramatic retelling of how he heroically caught a falling banana at the dorm, you break.

۶ৎ the tears come without warning, spilling down your cheeks as you bury your face in your hands, trying to hide it—but he notices instantly.

۶ৎ “Wait—wait, you’re crying?? Babe?? What—did I say something dumb? Did I offend the banana??”

۶ৎ he’s scrambling, eyes wide, snacks falling off his lap. He’s panicking—but it’s that sweet kind of panic that shows how much he cares even if he doesn’t know what’s wrong yet.

۶ৎ he practically throws himself onto the floor in front of you, crouching down to your level.

۶ৎ “Babe, hey, look at me—what happened? You’re scaring me…”

۶ৎ you finally manage to whisper it : 

۶ৎ “They’re gone… My pet. I didn’t know who to tell. I didn’t want to make you worry.”

۶ৎ his eyes soften instantly. The panic melts into care, into gentleness—and so Woonhak.

۶ৎ “You—you should’ve told me. I wanna worry about you, dummy.”

 ۶ৎ “…Okay not dummy. You’re a very smart, beautiful person, I’m just emotionally unwell right now because you’re sad and I don’t know what to do.”

۶ৎ he pulls you into the tightest hug, one of those full-bodied, engulfed by a bear kind of hugs.

۶ৎ “It’s okay to cry, you know? Even if you think it’s ‘just a pet’—they were your family. Your best friend. I get it. And I’m here, okay?”

۶ৎ once you’ve calmed down a little, he wipes your tears with his sleeve (and immediately regrets it because “ew okay I used this sleeve to open yogurt earlier wait let me get a tissue—”).

۶ৎ but then he gently sits you down, gets you water, a cozy blanket, and even puts your favorite stuffed animal in your lap with the most serious expression.

۶ৎ “Comfort animal deployment: activated. I am now your emotional support himbo.”

۶ৎ he even makes a little corner of your room a “memorial spot,” setting down a candle and printing out one of your pet’s photos. 

۶ৎ “This is their VIP section. I’m reserving it for good memories and bad jokes in their honour.”

۶ৎ eventually, he pulls you back onto the couch, your head resting against his shoulder. He talks in that soft, low voice he only uses when things are quiet.

۶ৎ “You don’t ever have to deal with this kind of stuff alone, okay? Even if you don’t wanna talk about it, I’m still gonna show up with peach gummies and a stupid horror movie and sit beside you until you feel a little more okay.”

 ۶ৎ “And if you cry again, it’s fine. I’ll cry too. We’ll sob together. Like a synchronized sadness squad. World record or something.”

@coriihanniee 💌

˖➴ reblogs are appreciated! ty for reading! <3

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[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - July 22-28

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1. Four new cheetah cubs born in Saudi Arabia after 40 years of extinction

“[T]he discovery of mummified cheetahs in caves […] which ranged in age from 4,000 to as recent as 120 years, proved that the animals […] once called [Saudi Arabia] home. The realisation kick-started the country’s Cheetah Conservation Program to bring back the cats to their historic Arabian range. […] Dr Mohammed Qurban, CEO of the NCW, said: […] “This motivates us to continue our efforts to restore and reintroduce cheetahs, guided by an integrated strategy designed in accordance with best international practices.””

2. In sub-Saharan Africa, ‘forgotten’ foods could boost climate resilience, nutrition

“[A study published in PNAS] examined “forgotten” crops that may help make sub-Saharan food systems more resilient, and more nutritious, as climate change makes it harder to grow [current staple crops.] [… The study identified 138 indigenous] food crops that were “relatively underresearched, underutilized, or underpromoted in an African context,” but which have the nutrient content and growing stability to support healthy diets and local economies in the region. […] In Eswatini, van Zonneveld and the World Vegetable Center are working with schools to introduce hardy, underutilized vegetables to their gardens, which have typically only grown beans and maize.”

3. Here's how $4 billion in government money is being spent to reduce climate pollution

“[New Orleans was awarded] nearly $50 million to help pay for installing solar on low to middle income homes [… and] plans to green up underserved areas with trees and build out its lackluster bike lane system to provide an alternative to cars. […] In Utah, $75 million will fund several measures from expanding electric vehicles to reducing methane emissions from oil and gas production. [… A] coalition of states led by North Carolina will look to store carbon in lands used for agriculture as well as natural places like wetlands, with more than $400 million. [… This funding is] “providing investments in communities, new jobs, cost savings for everyday Americans, improved air quality, … better health outcomes.””

4. From doom scrolling to hope scrolling: this week’s big Democratic vibe shift

“[Democrats] have been on an emotional rollercoaster for the past few weeks: from grim determination as Biden fought to hang on to his push for a second term, to outright exuberance after he stepped aside and Harris launched her campaign. […] In less than a week, the Harris campaign raised record-breaking sums and signed up more than 100,000 new volunteers[….] This honeymoon phase will end, said Democratic strategist Guy Cecil, warning the election will be a close race, despite this newfound exuberance in his party. [… But v]oters are saying they are excited to vote for Harris and not just against Trump. That’s new.”

5. Biodegradable luminescent polymers show promise for reducing electronic waste

“[A team of scientists discovered that a certain] chemical enables the recycling of [luminescent polymers] while maintaining high light-emitting functions. […] At the end of life, this new polymer can be degraded under either mild acidic conditions (near the pH of stomach acid) or relatively low heat treatment (> 410 F). The resulting materials can be isolated and remade into new materials for future applications. […] The researchers predict this new polymer can be applied to existing technologies, such as displays and medical imaging, and enable new applications […] such as cell phones and computer screens with continued testing.”

6. World’s Biggest Dam Removal Project to Open 420 Miles of Salmon Habitat this Fall

“Reconnecting the river will help salmon and steelhead populations survive a warming climate and [natural disasters….] In the long term, dam removal will significantly improve water quality in the Klamath. “Algae problems in the reservoirs behind the dams were so bad that the water was dangerous for contact […] and not drinkable,” says Fluvial Geomorphologist Brian Cluer. [… The project] will begin to reverse decades of habitat degradation, allow threatened salmon species to be resilient in the face of climate change, and restore tribal connections to their traditional food source.”

7. Biden-Harris Administration Awards $45.1 Million to Expand Mental Health and Substance Use Services Across the Lifespan

““Be it fostering wellness in young people, caring for the unhoused, facilitating treatment and more, this funding directly supports the needs of our neighbors,” said HHS Secretary Xavier Becerra. [The funding also supports] recovery and reentry services to adults in the criminal justice system who have a substance use disorder[… and clinics which] serve anyone who asks for help for mental health or substance use, regardless of their ability to pay.”

8. The World’s Rarest Crow Will Soon Fly Free on Maui

“[… In] the latest attempt to establish a wild crow population, biologists will investigate if this species can thrive on Maui, an island where it may have never lived before. Translocations outside of a species’ known historical range are rare in conservation work, but for a bird on the brink of extinction, it’s a necessary experiment: Scientists believe the crows will be safer from predators in a new locale—a main reason that past reintroduction attempts failed. […] As the release date approaches, the crows have already undergone extensive preparation for life in the wild. […] “We try to give them the respect that you would give if you were caring for someone’s elder.””

9. An optimist’s guide to the EV battery mining challenge

““Battery minerals have a tremendous benefit over oil, and that’s that you can reuse them.” [… T]he report’s authors found there’s evidence to suggest that [improvements in technology] and recycling have already helped limit demand for battery minerals in spite of this rapid growth — and that further improvements can reduce it even more. [… They] envision a scenario in which new mining for battery materials can basically stop by 2050, as battery recycling meets demand. In this fully realized circular battery economy, the world must extract a total of 125 million tons of battery minerals — a sum that, while hefty, is actually 17 times smaller than the oil currently harvested every year to fuel road transport.”

10. Peekaboo! A baby tree kangaroo debuts at the Bronx Zoo

“The tiny Matschie’s tree kangaroo […] was the third of its kind born at the Bronx Zoo since 2008. [… A] Bronx Zoo spokesperson said that the kangaroo's birth was significant for the network of zoos that aims to preserve genetic diversity among endangered animals. "It's a small population and because of that births are not very common," said Jessica Moody, curator of primates and small mammals at the Bronx Zoo[, …] adding that baby tree kangaroos are “possibly one of the cutest animals to have ever lived. They look like stuffed animals, it's amazing.””

July 15-21 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)