Everything I read about recovering from burnout is like “it takes months or even years to fully recover” and it’s like okay…. I have a weekend before I gotta clock in on Monday
why are all the actual real human jobs like baker and florist and childcare worker barely paying livable wages but the fake jobs like ai specialist boot licker or marketing campaign dick sucker making six figures
“The Shonen Protagonist joins The Organization” is such a cheap and easy hack for framing a narrative because the author never has to come up with a reason why the protagonist gets involved in each arc. It’s just that The Organization has a new Mission for the protagonist every time and the protagonist gets to say, “Righteo, thanks plot for telling me what to go do.”
Which makes Fullmetal Alchemist so much funnier because Edward Elric very very much does join The Organization. He’s in fact quite famous for joining The Organization. Where The Organization is a hostile fascist dictatorship with immense military power which is good at both giving orders and punishing defectors.
And yet over the course of the series Edward is so allergic to ever being told what to do that he in fact never ever goes on an Organization-Ordered Mission. And the exactly one time The Organization DID try to tell him what to do Edward hated it so much he fucked off and impaled himself at the bottom of a mineshaft about it.
[looking at people younger than me] you have your whole life ahead of you [looking at people older than me] you have your whole life ahead of you [looking at myself] its over
Desc - you and your best friend Martin share a cigarette but you both know that you want to be more than friends so one thing leads to another and your lips aren’t only touching your cigarette
Tags - Martin is super down bad / fluff / kissing / underage smoking / vape mentioned / I don’t condone smoking / cigarettes are bad for you / I haven’t smoked in a year so sorry if it’s inaccurate / friends to lovers / situationship / short / not proof read
“Yinnieee can I bum off you again my vape lowkey burnt out,” Martin chuckled holding his blue razz vape in his hand like it was a dead mouse.
“Those are ass anyways, here,” you kindly gifted him the cigarette from your lips, your pink tinted lipstick staining the orange paper. You watched as his fingers took a hold of your bitter sweet nicotine putting it to his own lips, the lipstick mark matching the print of his lips. You watched as he breathed in the nicotine, the end of the cigarette burning a bright orange. His eyes squinting slightly. Martin then pulls the cigarette away and lets the smoke linger in his lungs before breathing out a wonky grey circle, you laugh lightly at his failed attempt at a smoke ring.
“Cute,” you take back your cigarette and put it to your lips, his eyes immediately go straight to your mouth, his jaw tightening. He has never wanted to be a cigarette so badly, the indirect kiss wasn’t enough for him anymore, it was like he was craving you just as much as he was craving the nicotine on your lips.
“I still think my blue razz is better” Martin chuckled trying to defect his thoughts away from your beautiful lips.
“Yeah good luck getting popcorn lungs in two years time from all that battery acid,” you tap your cigarette on the concrete you were sitting on, your feet dangling off the ledge of the seawall watching the ashes fall into the dark water below.
“Oh fuck off at least mine smells nicer unlike you, you smell like my grandma,” Martin was lying, he loved the smell of cigarettes mixed with your perfume. One time you let him borrow a shirt and it smelled exactly like you, the bitter scent of cigarettes, the sweet floral smell of your perfume and fruity lotion, it truly was the perfect mix. He was caught constantly sniffing the shirt throughout the day by Juhoon, it was humiliating.
“Oh shut up, you’ve never complained when you borrowed my clothes,” you scoffed handing him back your cigarette and he swiftly took it back.
“Hey, I don’t mind, I just drench myself in cologne.”
“Yeah, do you know how fucking long that takes to come out? I swear some of my shirts still smell like Jean Paul Gaultier,” you mocked the brand in a bad French accent.
“Hey! You always compliment my smell,” he blew the smoke in the opposite direction of you before facing back to you frowning trying to hide his smile caused by your cute fake accent.
“Ugh whatever! It’s still annoying.. People notice you know.” That comment couldn’t help but make him feel possessive. Knowing people could smell him on you gave him a sense of pride, it made him think that you were his in a way. Martin started to imagine guys avoiding their chance to hit on you because they smelled a man on your clothes, he loved it.
“Oh yeah? Am I scaring the boys off?” Martin smirked nudging your arm softly, you scoffed again rolling your eyes and taking back your half smoked cigarette tapping it again on the concrete.
“Yeah a little,” you breathed in the nicotine again.
“Good,” he gained some sense of confidence all of a sudden from the feeling of possessiveness in his chest.
“What? You want me all to your self?” You asked in a lower voice with a small smirk. You leaned a little closer to him as you breathed out the grey smoke.
“Maybe I do, I don’t really like sharing,” Martin leaned closer following your body language, clearly not backing down this time. Usually when the two of you flirt someone always retreats before it gets too far. But tonight the two of you had some confidence.
“Oh so am I yours?” You tilled your head and leaned your body weight on your hand behind his back, your forgotten cigarette between your fingers.
“Mmm I like to think so, and I can tell you think so too,” he whispered hiding the tremble in his throat at your close proximity.
“You surely are confident Edwards,” you hummed softly, your eyes looking down to his lips then to his eyes.
“You can say that,” He shrugged with a smug look on his face.
“You’re so cute” you muttered before catching your lips onto his, his shoulders immediately relaxed and his eyes fluttered shut, you can feel his bottom lip tremble softly onto yours, oh he wanted this badly.
“Yin,” he muttered between soft kisses. His hand led up to the side of your neck, his thumb in front of your ear pressed to your cheek, his other fingers in your hair. You felt yourself gravitating towards him, your chest pressed against him making him rest his opposite hand on your waist stroking your back and giving small squeezes to your hips.
You pull away from the kiss and pull the cigarette to your lips once more, you breathed in a lung full of smoke before blowing it into his mouth, to your satisfaction, Martin gladly breathed in your second hand smoke. You leave one last weak kiss to his lips before looking back to the ocean in front of them.
Martin hazily looked to where you did and sighs out the rest of the smoke before looking back to you. “I love you, so fucking much.”
You face him and smile, “I love you too.” You laughed, shaking your head at his sudden yet not surprising confession.
you have to forgive the printer because it's one of the most machine-ass machines we interact with on a day to day basis. that thing says kerchunk. hardly anything says kerchunk these days. you can't get mad at her when she kerchunks up a little.
if theres one thing that really pissed me off from my 3 years of architecture i took in high school it's learning about how we used to have all these little techniques to maximize or minimize heat or warmth and now we just merrily abandoned all those to have the same copypaste style buildings everywhere that are often INCREDIBLY unoptimized to the local weather and climate so we can just throw more money at our heating and cooling bills
where i live it is hot as balls approximately 80% of the year. i do not want a massive butt-ugly grey mcmansion with a huge echoey open-concept kitchen-livingroom-foyer-diningroom-staircase that has huge windows so i can have an hvac unit the size of a barge heaving and straining to keep it at a constant 72 the grees. i want a north indian traditional style home with small windows to force the airflow to cool, decorative grates to limit the amount of sunlight, and a COURTYARD with a POND *smashes unspecified large object*
What do you mean “chat” is now referring to ChatGPT and not twitch chat? What? What? What the fuck? No?
When I address chat I am speaking to a presumed Greek chorus of real human people shitposting on their lunch break, not a machine that devours lakes to covert electricity into slop.
please eat enough and drink enough water and get enough sleep. this is so that you have enough energy. because we need you to be writing and drawing porn on the internet
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