#accommodating to the minority group of students

[choslut]

── 脹相 + 九十九 由基 : CLUB DEMON !!

‹ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ starring incubus!CHOSO and succubus!TSUKUMO YUKI

꒷꒦꒷ becoming addicted to a mysterious man and his best friend (?) was not on this year’s bingo card, but now that it’s happened, it seems like there’s no way out…

this movie contains the following . . .threesome, slight crack, masturbation, supernatural activity, slight choyuki, sexual fantasies, slight voyeurism, pet names, clubbing, oral sex, teasing, dirty talk, praise kink, nipple play, voice kink, tribbing/scissoring, cum swallowing, making out

this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs do not interact with this work or any other in the THRILLER series.

Your love life sucks. Like, actually sucks. Sure, you’re only in university and you have the rest of your young adult life to live out before you eventually decide to settle down, but alas, with university comes couples, and with couples comes that overarching feeling of complete and utter loneliness. 

The strong feeling of solitude especially peaks during times like this, when couples are completely occupied with choosing matching Halloween costumes and planning dates whilst you sit and nibble at the end of your pen and try to completely block them out. It’s annoying, because you don’t have anyone to match cheesy costumes with or go trick-or-treating with, and will most likely be spending Halloween night completely and utterly alone.

And it isn’t like you can control it, either. You’re pretty enough, but not in the way the other girls are, the girls who’d look good in a trash bag and can attract any type of male (or even female) attention with just a batter of their eyelids. You envy them, but again, nothing you can do, so you just sit and watch on in forlorn.

Every night is spent alone. Your roommates suck just as much as your romantic life does. They’re out every night getting wasted or worse, and sometimes, they bring back dates that suck just as much as they do, and in more ways than one. You could say that’s the one disadvantage to having paper-thin walls separating you from complete strangers, but there aren’t any advantages to having paper-thin walls, so you digress.

Getting off in student accommodation is fucking impossible. You bought an alleged ‘silent vibrator’ that was just about as quiet as a fully revved up chainsaw, and every night alone you become subject to your fingers and a handful of shitty porn, working yourself up to a weak high before calling it a night and throwing in the towel. Complain as you might, life doesn’t get better after this, and you actually consider dropping out, just so you can finally find someone who can deal with (and perhaps, fall in love with) your mediocre self. 

You don’t need help. You need to get laid, and the only way to do that is to drop the nonchalant act and finally get out,

It’s cold. It’s October, so of course it is, but you curse yourself for not wearing something a little more… practical. The chilling wind bites at the back of your legs with every step, and you wrap your arms tightly around yourself as you try to keep up with the rest of the group.

“Don’t look so grim, sweetcheeks, we’re drinking tonight!” You’re confused as to how your roommate (read: a raging alcoholic) is more excited to go drinking than you are considering her tendency to do it every other night. You crack a weak smile in her direction.

“I’m pumped,” you grit out as enthusiastically as possible. “Just a bit cold.”

“Y’just need a couple of shots and a cute guy, sweetie, ‘n you’ll warm up real fast.”

You can’t wait for tonight to be over.

– 

You’ve found the one. 

He stands against the wall of the club with a glass of what seems to be… water in his hand, and he looks just about as enthusiastic as you to be here. He’s cute, spiky black hair tied up in messy bunches on his head and a few strands hanging over his face, with a striking black strip tattoo staining his nose bridge. He doesn’t look like the type of person to be at a club, but he fits in perfectly, and when he notices you staring, he flashes a small smile.

Sure, it might just be a quirk of the lip, but your alcohol-addled brain takes it as him inviting you over, so you finally hoist yourself off of the bar stool and dip and dive between dancing people before finally sauntering over to him.

“You look bored. Clubbing not your scene?”

He takes a sip of his what-looks-like-water and smiles at you with that same small one he flashed you just minutes ago. “Not really. Here with a friend.” He nods his head towards the dancefloor, and your eyes lock on what looks like the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.

It sounds like a stretch, but she’s not like all the other run of the mill pretty girls you’ve seen. Her hair is a striking blonde, and she’s not wearing a dress, instead wearing a pair of denim booty shorts and what looks like a bikini top. She’s not dressed for the biting cold outside, but she looks borderline ethereal, and you can’t take your eyes off of her, even when the dark haired man begins to speak up again.

“I’m Choso,” he yells over the music, eyes trained on the back of your neck as he watches you (very obviously) check out his dancing friend. “And she’s Yuki. She swings both ways. Want her number?”

Suddenly, you become incredibly self aware of your staring in her direction, and you whip back towards Choso, giving yourself an embarrassing amount of whiplash in the process. “N-no! She’s just very pretty. I’ve never seen anyone like her before.”

“Yeah, my Yuki’s a looker, isn’t she?” Your mouth drops open in shock. His Yuki? Didn’t he just say they were just friends? 

You gape at him like a goldfish. “You’re together?” 

Choso smiles again, but this time, it’s a teasing type of smile. “Nah, just friends.” He winks at you before pushing himself off of the wall and downing the rest of his drink. “I’ll see you around.” 

And just like that, Choso is swallowed by the crowd. You look back at the dancefloor to steal another look at Yuki, but she’s gone too.

It’s almost like they were never there at all.

When you get home in the early hours of the morning, your head is throbbing, but you somehow remember every detail of the night, right up until Choso disappeared. It was so strange, yet they were both so alluring…

… you never even got their numbers.

You groan into your pillow. So much for Choso being the one, you’re probably never going to see him again. 

Of its own volition, your mind slips to the image of Yuki on the dancefloor, her hands trailing down her body sensually as she moved in fluidity with the booming music. She was so pretty, and although you’ve never had experience with anyone, let alone another woman, you find yourself trailing your hands down your body in that same manner, fingertips brushing against the material of your dress as you finally reach your core.

No way. There’s no way you’re doing this, drunk out of your mind and fully dressed in a room with paper-thin walls, with the thoughts of a woman you never even spoke to plaguing your mind like a disease. Suddenly, it’s no longer Yuki you’re thinking about but Choso, his spiky hair and cocky attitude along with his deep voice, a distinguishable sound amongst the booming bass of the club. His is the voice you imagine in your ear as you begin to strum your clit gently.

How would they feel? Choso and Yuki at the same time, him next to your ear and her in between your legs. You only spoke to Choso once and to Yuki not at all, but they’re all you think about when you slip a finger inside, eyes fluttering shut as you frantically search for that sweet spot inside of your cunt. 

There it is. Your back arches off the bed and you release a garbled moan of Choso and Yuki’s names, head growing delirious as your finger moves faster. Add another, something tells you, and you obey, sliding in a second finger alongside your first and pulling the neck of your dress down to allow your tits to bounce out. 

It feels good. They’d feel good, and that’s what you convince yourself when you cum with a strained whine, spine clicking as your back arches sharply off of the mattress. The orgasm assaults you in waves, and it’s the best you’ve felt a in a while. You ride the waves of your climax eagerly, and when you finally come down, the buzz of the alcohol hits, and you knock out almost immediately.

Before you finally succumb to sleep, you come up with a manifesto. You need to find them again. You need to get that sweet release from their hands, cum on their terms, be theirs completely.

When you suggest going clubbing again the next week, your roommates are shocked. “You? Clubbing?”

“It was fun,” you shrug, taking a sip of your coffee. “We should go again.”

One of them pipes up. “That sounds great! I know a new joint opening downtown, we should totally-”

“It has to be the same one.” Yes, you sound demanding, but you can’t take the chance of going to a different club. What if they’re not there? No, that won’t do. It has to be the same one.

“We never go to the same club twice.”

“Well I want to go to that one. I’ll go alone.”

Your second roommate groans. “Well, we can’t let you go alone. That’s like, against girl code.” She slips an arm around your shoulders, and it feels almost suffocating. “I’ll go if you’re going.”

And just like that, you’re at the same club, in the same dress, at the same time, but Choso and Yuki are nowhere to be found. This has to be some kind of twisted joke.

By this time, you’re desperate. You’re asking anyone and everyone if they’ve seen a dark haired man with spiky bunches or a tall blonde lady, but nobody seems to have seen them, and you’re convinced you’ve hit a complete dead end. When one of your roommates catches your disappointed face, she’s just about as pissed as you are.

“You asked to come here, and you’re not even going to pretend to be happy?” She definitely isn’t sober, especially given the man kissing her neck and the glass of some strangely coloured drink in her hand. “Don’t be fucking boring. Go get laid or somethin’.”

So much for girl code, you think as you turn on your heel to leave. There’s no point in you being there anywhere, especially if the people you went there to see weren’t there either. It sounds superficial, but you never liked clubbing anyways. 

The walk home is long and cold. Without the prominent buzz of alcohol warning your system, you feel like a walking ice cube, heels biting at your ankles and arms wrapped around your torso pathetically. 

When you finally arrive home, the apartment is empty, and all the lights are off. You’re silently grateful for the solitude, but as you flop onto your bed, tears begin to fill your eyes when you realise exactly how lonely you really are. You can keep telling yourself you don’t need a romantic or social life since your studies are all you need, but it gets increasingly harder by the day to convince yourself of this when all the people surrounding you are really living, whilst you just sit and stew like a complete loner.

Like clockwork, your hand travels in between your legs. Is this all you have? Yourself, you fingers and your thoughts for as long as you can remember, and even as you try your hardest to conjure up the image of your two mysterious subjects of attraction, nothing is working.

“Please..” you whisper into the darkness of your room, pleading with something, anything to help you reach a release.

“You need some help there, sweetcheeks?” You bolt up from your pillow when you hear a strikingly familiar voice in the background. “Doesn’t she look like she’s struggling?”

Your breath hitches when you hear another voice respond, this time a cooler, more feminine tone. “Oh, definitely. We should’ve shown up at the club tonight, Cho’, our girl looks so fucking needy.”

Cho? As in Choso, from the other night? That can’t be…

You try to open your mouth to ask these mysterious entities who the fuck they are, but when you try to speak, nothing comes out. 

“Oh, she’s trying to talk!” The female voice giggles. “Don’t worry, honey, you know us. Yuki and Choso, from the other night. You remember, don’t you?”

Of course you fucking remember. They’re all you’ve been thinking about this past week, but to have them actually in your room… this has to be some kind of twisted dream. 

“Not a dream, honey,” Choso responds as if he can hear your thoughts. “We’re actually here, and we wanna help you. You want that, right?”

Too many questions. They’re asking too many questions and it’s getting to your head, and the room seems to grow hotter when Choso moves out of the darkness and approaches your bed. He looks… different. The black strip tattoo that was so prominent on his nose bridge extends to his eyes, with sharp lines branching over the apples of his cheeks. His purple undereyes are more prominent too, and he looks almost like a demon. 

This isn’t him. It can’t be, but your attention is diverted when Yuki moves out of the darkness too, but she’s dressed in the exact same way she was that one night, bikini bra and denim ripped shorts hugging her curves in a way that has you drooling. 

“Do you want to know what we are?” Choso raises a perfectly arched brow in your direction. “We’re not human, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

You nod slowly, eyes wide with shock. Not human? Well, that explains your raging attraction to the both of them. 

Yuki points a perfectly manicured finger at herself. “Succubus.” She points at Choso. “Incubus.” Then, she smiles, baring perfectly white teeth. “You called us last week, didn’t you, princess?”

Called them last week? You didn’t have either of their numbers (if they even had phones), so how…

“You were fingering that pretty cunt, and you called us. Who do you think told you to add another finger?” They told you to do that? You thought it was just out of pure need, but alas their presences were actually in your room, guiding you to orgasm without making themselves known. 

Your thighs clench at the thought and they laugh in unison, the golden sound of Yuki’s voice intertwining with Choso’s deep rumble. Oh, you need them bad.

“You’ll have us, honey,” Choso drawls, and your bed dips as he crawls in between your legs. “We’ll give you what you want, don’t sweat.”

You can only stare down at him as he pries your legs open, shucking up your dress as he stares in between your legs to find you aren’t even wearing panties.

“No way,” Yuki breathes, climbing onto your bed alongside Choso and joining him in inspecting in between your legs. “You went out like this?”

You nod shyly. Of course you did, because you were expecting to get fucking laid, and walking around with your clit out made you feel just a little bit sexy. You don’t feel sexy now though, because both… demons (?) are inspecting your cunt like they’re gynaecologists, parting your lips with their fingers and blowing on your clit teasingly. 

“Oh, she’s sensitive, isn’t she?” Yuki coos at your cunt, bright eyes staring up at you as her thumb strokes the roof of your clit. “Poor pussy’s never been laid, huh?” You shake your head pitfully, and Choso tuts. 

“We can take care of you, baby. Just forget about your roomies for tonight, yeah?” Your focus tracks to him and your eyes lock, nodding as if in a trance. “Good girl.”

Just when you think Yuki is finally going to give your pussy the relief it needs, she gets up and crawls next to you, hands reaching into your dress and fingers running over your nipples as she kisses your neck. “I saw you at the club that night,” she whispers in your ear, her plump lips brushing its shell. “You’re so pretty, ‘n I wish you came up to me and talked to me.” She kisses your ear before finally facing you. “Have you ever kissed a girl before?”

Your eyes are soft and innocent as you look at her and shake your head, still not able to speak. Yuki laughs quietly before closing her eyes and pressing her lips to yours. She tastes like strawberries and sin, and you groan when her tongue intertwines with yours in a heated kiss. 

“You’re doing amazing, Yuki,” Choso says from in between your legs. “She’s getting so fucking wet right now.” You almost forgot he was there, and when his tongue flicks against your throbbing clit, you whine into Yuki’s mouth. 

“That’s it, darling,” she whispers against your lips, her breathing mimicking yours as Choso eats out your cunt. “Let it out for us, baby, we’ve got you.”

Thank God for the fact you’re home alone, because the groan you let out is downright pornographic, your hips ticking upwards when Choso begins to make out with your pussy. You can’t believe you imagined this in the reverse, because having Yuki fondling your tits with Choso in between your legs is way better than anything your need-filled brain could ever have come up with. 

“Are you about to cum, sweet girl?” Yuki’s voice is driving you nuts, and you nod rapidly as you feel the coil begin to wind up in your core, this time ten times tighter than it ever has when you masturbate by yourself. Yuki twists your nipples in tune to Choso’s ministrations on your clenching hole, her breath hitching when she spots your eyes begin to gloss over. “C’mon, angel. You need it, don’t you? We need it too, baby, come on.”

You completely miss her say that she needs your orgasm just as much as you do, because white sparks begin to flash behind your eyelids, thighs trembling as they drag you into your orgasm by force, Choso’s tongue never slowing it’s relentless torment and Yuki’s fingers continuing to swipe at your clit. 

Everything becomes hazy, and you can barely sense Choso finally detaching from your cunt, his tongue swiping over his lips before he’s circling to where Yuki is sitting by your head and kissing her, their tongues intertwining as he feeds her your taste. 

“Doesn’t she taste amazing?” Whilst he’s entangled with Yuki, Choso’s large hand strokes your tummy, his finger pulling up your dress to draw shapes on your bare abdomen. “Like sugar.”

“Totally,” Yuki groans, eyes flicking towards you. “Thank you, angel.”

And you think that’s the end of it and they’re going to leave, but now they’re swapping places, Choso staying at your head and unbuckling his pants whilst Yuki kneels in between your legs, her lips kissing the overly sensitive flesh of your thighs. 

It’s hard to focus yet again, because as you watch Yuki begin to play with your cunt like a cat plays with a ball of yarn, Choso is suddenly pressing the flaring tip of his cock to your lips and tangling his fingers in your hair. “Hi, angel. Can you suck on this for me?”

You nod. You can’t do anything but nod, especially when he’s finally slipping his cock into your mouth, head bobbing as you try to take him whole. 

“You’re distractin’ her, Cho’,” Yuki’s whining, and her shorts are off too, moving your legs to weave with hers as she presses her clit to yours. “Baby won’t be able to grind back if she’s busy suckin’ you off- hah-“

“Shut it, Yuki,” Choso grunts animalistically. “We’ve got what we want, so she doesn’t really even need to cum again.”

“But it’s n-no fair if you get to cum and I- ugh- don’t.” Her hands are squeezing your hips and pulling up against her as her own move in a hypnotic rhythm, her clit bumping yours over and over and over again, working you up gradually to another high. “You know it lasts longer if we get to cum too.”

Everything they’re saying is going over your head, and your senses are in overload. Choso’s cock is hitting the back of your throat repeatedly and you can barely breathe, but the lack of oxygen makes each of Yuki’s thrusts hit harder, your hips twitching with each grind of her own. 

“Mmh, is this pretty pussy gonna cum again?” Yuki’s voice is a sweet drawl, and she bends over to begin sucking at your nipples, her hips picking up the pace. “She’s gettin’ sensitive, right?”

Before you can even look at Yuki, Choso is dragging your head back to him, his hips all but thrusting into your mouth with repeated fervour. “Don’t pay attention to her, look at me.” His balls slap obscenely against your chin and his head tips back in a groan, his dark hair streaming over his shoulders and face marks growing more intense as he quickly approaches his orgasm. “ ‘M gonna cum, baby, and I need you to swallow it. Can you do that?”

You shouldn’t swallow because he’s not even a fucking human, but your lust addled brain complies with his demand, eyes glazed over as he finishes in your mouth messily. Yuki gasps against your tits as she watches on, hips stuttering as her orgasm begins. 

It’s all too much. Yuki is twitching against your overheated body and Choso is seemingly still cumming, this time slipping himself from your mouth and slapping his cock on your parted lips as his cum stains your face. Your own orgasm hits you like a truck, body shivering as the heat of Yuki against you makes you borderline delirious. 

“You look so good when you’re cumming,” Yuki groans against your chest, her plump lips kissing your skin repeatedly. “You’ve done so well, angel.”

Choso grunts in agreement, a condescending smile on his lips as he trails the tip of his cock along the stream of cum on your face. You feel debauched but it feels amazing, like everything you dreamed about and more. 

And you don’t know it yet, but you’re theirs now, and even when Yuki dismounts your cunt and Choso (reluctantly) tucks himself away, you’re left shivering on the bed, thighs wet with yours and Yuki’s mixed release and face shiny with Choso’s cum. Yuki reaches out tentatively to stroke your destroyed face, but Choso grabs her wrist roughly. 

“No,” he grunts. “We have to leave her like this or it won’t work.”

Yuki nods, her face solemn. “Right.” Instead, she leaves a fleeting kiss in your hair, her hands stapled to her sides. “We’ll see you again, pretty.”

And just like that, they’re gone… almost like they were never there at all. 

꒷꒦꒷ click here for all things THRILLER !! next up : COSTUME PARTY ft. geto suguru, gojo satoru and ieiri shoko !!

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[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | five.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 7k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, alcohol consumption and intoxication, drunk texts, mingi's plan is 100% nawttt working lol, mcdonalds for the drunchies!!, san opens up a bit about the whole iseul x yunho thing, making out, some lil neck kisses, sprinkle of dry humping, the talk happens 😀

"Last one!" Felix yells in the dining area of his shared apartment. You, Jiung, Felix, their roommates, Eunchae, Jurin and a bunch of other people decided to pre-game at the apartment before heading over to the bar for the 'welcome to the new quarter' happy hour event. You all take one last shot before heading out as a group, their building on campus being the closest to the downtown scene.

On the way over, there's groups on groups of students and other guests flowing through the streets— the loud roars and chatter echoing throughout the area. It's nice to see everyone excited for the event, keeping everyone in good spirits and in good morale for the quarter.

You cling onto Jiung as you find the alcohol quickly running through your system. Your cheeks feel hot; body all tingly, the world spinning a little more than usual. When you finally arrive to the bar, you flash your student badges and ID to the security before walking in. The music is blaring through the bar, the bass causing the walls to vibrate. The bar has enough space to accommodate all the heads walking in— a huge area to hang out, drink and vibe near the dj and bar on the main floor that opens up to the back patio. There's also a loft area for people to hang out at, a few arcade games lining the walls along with high tables and seats. 

The group walks in, greeting a bunch of other friends and familiar faces as everyone settles at tables near the back patio; the air feeling nice amongst the stuffiness in the bar. Felix and Jiung start ordering a bunch of shareable appetizers, while you slip away to head to the bar and skim through the limited cocktail menu for tonight's happy hour event. You bounce along to the music while debating between two options, finally making your decision just as more people pour in and the crowd cheers at the song that comes blasting through the speakers. You turn to give the bartender your order, slipping him one of the free drink vouchers you were given at the door. Suddenly, Eunchae comes to your side, drunkly squealing and squeezing your arm.

"Girl, the party has officially started." You furrow your brows as she steps aside and nods towards the door. In walks in San, Chris, Jongho, Mingi, Yeosang and Namjoon. You could feel your heart beating against your chest, and you're not sure why. You could be a 'lil excited he's here even though you would never do anything so bold, so daring, in front of everyone else.

But, he's here. He'll see you, and you'll see him.

"I definitely wasn't expecting them to come."

"Why not?! You know how Namjoon is. He loves his social events." She smirks. "Time to show off the goods!" She squeezes your ass just as she places a quick order with the same bartender.

"Eunchae!" You squeal, grabbing your drink from the bartender after getting yourself together. "They'll do their own thing and we'll do our own thing. No goods need to be shown." You playfully tap the tip of her nose, making her giggle.

"I mean, I dunno. Eyes could always wander, ya know?" 

"Let's not get our hopes up, shall we? I'm sure they don't wanna be around obnoxious loud ass drunk students right now. All thanks to Professor Kim for being a social butterfly!"

"Thanks to him indeed, or else this happy hour probably would've been a shitshow without them." She smirks and bites her bottom lip, grabbing her drink. She then grabs your hand to bring you back towards your friends while you sip on your drink. Jurin is already sipping on something, while eating away at some of the nachos placed in the center of the table.

"Got you guys some shots." Felix says, slipping them onto the surface of the table. 

"Lix! We just—"

"Ah, ah, ah! I paid a hefty tip for these so drink up, my favorite ladies." He clinks his shot glass against yours, Jurin's and Eunchae's before you take the shot to the neck, wincing as soon as the liquid burns and travels down your throat. You all chase with your cocktails [def not the best idea], hurriedly trying to wash away the tequila aftertaste.

"Gross." Eunchae shakes her head, grabbing more nachos to snack on.

"Good gawd, have you ever seen a better group of professors?" Jurin says as you and the girlies scan the high tables pressed closer towards the wall on the main floor. Mingi, Yeosang, Jongho, San, Chris and Namjoon are now huddled around watching the crowd with glasses of beer sitting on the table, all in casual clothing.

A group of handsome intellectuals. We're here for it.

"Professor Bahng me so—" Eunchae says in your ear.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence!"

"The new professor wants her some Choi San." Jurin smirks as she drinks her cocktail, eyes still glued on their group. You shift your attention back to them, watching as Professor Cho talks to Professor Choi. She's a cutie, you can't even lie— she's got on a simple white tee, black flare jeans and boots on and it works well with her figure. She sticks herself right next to him, smiling and laughing as they continue to talk, joke around, whatever it is. Professor Song's got a shit-eating smirk on while he's sipping his beer, so it's pretty obvious he's trying to set them up. You don't know if it's the alcohol or if you're actually feeling disappointed for god knows why, but it sucks. It makes you pout a little when the reality settles, knowing Professor Choi should definitely be entertaining someone like Professor Cho;

Not you, a grad student.

So maybe all those subtle moments were just merely subtle moments. Maybe Professor Choi was just that charming, that enticing, that everybody experiences the same subtle moments as you. It was never meant to be a thing.

"That's Y/N's man, though."

"Excuse me, since when?" You look at Eunchae.

"Since he went all prince charming on you and saved you in the basement."

"Please, he had no other choice." You frown.

"He could've grabbed Sunwoo or a facilities person to come and fix that door knob at the same time, but he didn't." She puckers her lips. "I'm gonna say he's got the hots for you."

"Do you hear her?" You laugh and look at Jurin before your eyes are back to [subtly] scanning the high tables. San is deep in conversation with his people, but it's almost like a radar goes off for him because his eyes instantly meet yours. He doesn't necessarily break away, even as he sips his beer and listens to Namjoon entertain the table.

His eyes are on you.

He'll see you, and you'll see him.

The DJ starts playing a mix that causes the crowd to roar and get more hyped, your friends pulling you onto the dance floor. You carefully let them drag you along— your glass in one hand while you start to sing and bounce along to the song. Of course, your friends drag you right in San's view, and he's not complaining one bit. He continues to keep it subtle, though. Still engaging in conversation as much as possible, but he's not even gonna lie, his attention is elsewhere. He can barely even focus on Zara next to him.

"I didn't think you'd actually come tonight." She says, coming back to his side after grabbing a soda to sip on.

"Why not?" He pries his eyes off of you to shift to her. "Namjoon's a real stickler when it comes to these things. Wants us to be present at most student events to show face." She giggles and nods.

"I see that. Well, you do enjoy it, don't you?"

"I do. It's fun to see everyone enjoy themselves. Reminds me of the good times. Back in the days." She laughs.

"Okay, old man." She teases and he playfully rolls his eyes, now returning his attention back to you. You're dancing and singing along happily, even doing those cute little dance challenges with your friends and San has to prevent himself from smiling too big or keeping his obvious attention on you for too long. At this moment, Yunho and Iseul walk in, passing the high table with curt nods and short greetings, the two barely paying any attention to San and vice versa. San continues to sip his beer, pursing his lips as he hears Yunho and Iseul happily greeting the other professors next to them. It's probably the beer [most likely], but he finds himself getting a little more irritated than usual seeing them around. And Mingi might've realized first, except his plan to distract him isn't necessarily gonna work—

"Why don't you spend some alone time with her or something? You know, doesn't have to be much." Mingi adds nonchalantly as he sips on his beer and watches the crowd, coming around to his other side.

"I'm good." San looks at him before shaking his head. His eyes land back on you over the edge of his glass and he finds that you're looking, too. You're being a tease, especially with the way that mini dress hugs you perfectly. The way you move your body. The way you try so hard but equally not as hard to make sure he's paying attention.

He knows the game. He knows the way it goes.

And San finds his hunger for you growing by the minute. Ain't no way you're looking that good in front of him without having a clue what it does to him. You know damn well— very, very well.

He wishes he could do something about it, and you love every second of it. You subtly bite your lip before turning to face Eunchae, Felix, Jiung and Jurin, continuing to dance along to the Iamsu! track that's currently on rotation. The boys are snapping videos and photos, being the hype men they should for you and the girlies. San finds himself silently chuckling from time to time, hearing your screams and giggles just feet away.

"You couldn't be any more obvious." Jongho giggles as he comes to his free side, Mingi, Zara and Yeosang heading over to the back patio to play cornhole.

"It's just nice to see them having fun."

"Mhm." Jongho hums, sliding his glass onto the table. "Anyway, wanna go head to head on one of the arcade games?" Jongho points to the loft. San nods, setting his empty glass aside before following Jongho up the steps to play a few of the arcade games. On their way over, they engage in a few friendly conversations before going head-to-head in air hockey, basketball and skee ball. Eventually, you, Jurin and Eunchae also find your way upstairs having spent some time getting air in the back patio, loudly enjoying the arcade games just a few feet away from Jongho, San and now, Yeosang. Amidst all the fun you and your girls are having, you don't realize you almost crash [yet again] into your professor as you step back and cheer just when he's about to pass.

"Woah there." Professor Choi has his hand hovering near the small of your back.

"Woah— sorry. Hi." You look behind in a drunk haze, greeting your attractive professor as you try to create some space. "Hi Professor Choi."

"Hey. You good?" He smiles at you as you nod, cheeks hot from the alcohol, palms definitely clammy.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Yeah? Be safe for me." 

"Mmkay. Only for you." You tilt your head to the side and San cocks a brow in amusement. He subtly bites his lip before nodding.

"That's all I want." He plays along, watching as you obviously become affected by the unexpected response. You maintain eye contact with him, giving him that innocent, angelic smile you always give him. "Have a good rest of your night, Y/N." He says near your ear before giving you a small smile and heading back down the steps.

"Jesus fucking christ." Jurin teases before giggling and tugging your hand, pulling you back towards the games. As the night continues on, you, Jurin and Eunchae continue to play the rest of the arcade games before heading back down to play the giant Jenga and cornhole in between dancing with the boys. Hours easily slip on by, and by the time it hits close to 11pm, you're being asked to take the drunk-tivities to another bar.

"We're about to bar hop. Coming along?" One of your classmates ask. 

"Um no, I'm drunk enough and want my bed. Thank you!" Eunchae responds. You, Eunchae and Jurin continue to signal 'no' to the others in many variations, slowly splitting and walking off back towards campus. You realize you didn't get a chance to say bye to Felix, Jiung and the rest of the boys before you three slipped away, so you grab your phone and try to text him to at least let him know you're alive and well.

"Shit, I just realized we never tried to catch Jiung or Felix."

"I'm sure they're fine! They know we'll get home safely together."

"Let me text them really quickly."

you: thosee last shots were lethal and I'm still dRINK !! hope u guys bcarefl

you: becarfil

you: becareful!!!! fuck!!!

You continue to walk alongside of Eunchae and Jurin as you walk back to your apartments from the bar, clenching your phone in your hand while you wait for a text back from Jiung.

Ding.

"Jiung texted back!" You look at your phone and you swear, at this moment, all the alcohol might've drained from your system. To your horror, Jiung isn't the one texting you back.

prof. choi: doing okay there, y/n?

"FUCK!"

"What!" Eunchae yelps, surprised by your sudden reaction.

"Oh my fucking god! I accidentally texted Professor Choi, not Jiung!" 

"Oh shit." She laughs loudly. "Girl, it's fine! That man knows how it is, he probably doesn't even care!"

"No, Eunchae! This is so bad! He's gonna kick me out of rotation—"

"He won't! He was at the bar, I'm sure he understands. Just apologize." Jurin laughs. "You're fine, babe! Professor Choi looks so laid back. He's probably the last person you even have to worry about."

"Ugh, my god." You whine. "How embarrassing." You hesitantly [but quickly] text back to apologize.

you: omg i'm so sorry, professor choi! that was ment for jsunf

you: meant for jiung*

you: ah, sorry!!

San laughs at the text come through, incredibly endeared by the way you're trying really hard to apologize though drunk. He honestly doesn't care; he knows how this goes, he's been here before. He's glad you can have fun in between working and studying hard. 

prof. choi: no need to apologize, i know how it is! been there before. can you please let me know when you get home safely at least?

you: okay, i will.

You bite onto your bottom lip just as the three of you finally reach the King Residence Halls, still intoxicated but reaching the phase of sleepy drunk at this point.

"Okay ladies, I'm off to my humble abode. Get up there safely!" Jurin salutes as all of you walk into the main entrance, turning to her right to head down to her unit located here on the first floor. You and Eunchae wave before the both of you are retreating to your own studios for the night; feet hurting, body slowly breaking down, thirsty as hell for some water while you ride the elevator up to your places.

When you get back into the room, you quickly shower and get ready for bed. It's just about to hit close to midnight, and you know the bar hopping has barely reached its peak. You remember to finally text Jiung to be careful and to be safe, all while remembering to text Professor Choi back to let him know you made it home safely.

you: sorry, i got home safely a bit ago!

You set your phone aside as you plop onto your bed, somehow nervous for texting him a little later than usual. You do remember him and the rest of the professors were still lingering around when you, Eunchae and Jurin decided to head back. Maybe he was still there? Maybe he left and is already snuggled in his covers—

Ding.

prof. choi: good to know. 

you: you're still awake?

You're not even sure why you were prompted to keep the conversation going, but something within you felt comfortable enough to do so.

prof. choi: i'm barely leaving the bar with the rest of the guys.

you: oh, i see. be safe!

prof. choi: will be. make sure you and your roommates get lots of water.

you: roommates? i live alone. lol but i definitely just chugged a bunch of water. 

He doesn't respond after that text, and you wonder if he's driving or if he's just cutting the conversation there. You let out a small sigh, setting your phone aside to keep your hopes down and start settling in bed. Just as you pull the sheets back and prepare to hop in, your phone starts going off; vibrating on your nightstand and causing a loud rumble.

You were not expecting him to call you.

You take a moment before sliding right to answer his call, licking your lips and swallowing the lump that has formed in your throat.

"Hi." You shyly say.

"I'm sorry to call randomly. Just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"You don't have to apologize, it wasn't random. But, I'm okay. Thank you, Professor Choi."

"San." He chuckles a bit.

"Hm?"

"You can call me San."

"Thank you, San." There's a slight pause that makes you feel like San is trying to say something, ask something in particular, especially since he called you instead of texting you back. But, part of you also feels like you could be looking too into the night and reading too much into every little detail. 

Maybe it was more convenient for him, right?

He was eyeing you at the bar, though. Heavy. And San knows it. He wanted you to know it.

"Are you tired?" You ask softly as you sit up and sit criss-crossed on your bed.

"I was, but I think I'm a little more awake now. How are you feeling, still drunk?"

"Mm, not as drunk as I was after I found out I sent the text to you and not Jiung." He laughs. "Water is definitely helping, too. Are you okay to drive?"

"Yeah, I am. Only had that beer." Another small pause. "I'm gonna grab some food."

"Oh, but you aren't going to the other bars?"

"Jesus, no." San laughs. "They are, but not me. It took me a lot to come out tonight and it's only cause Namjoon wanted us to show face." You chuckle. 

"I get it." You fiddle with the fabric of your sheets. "Do you.. want some company while you get food?" You boldly ask, heavily relying on the fact that San must have called you for a reason besides to check in. If worst comes to worst, he can just say no.

You'd understand. It's all harmless anyway.

"Sure." He says. "You're not too tired?"

"No."

"Where are you?" He asks softly.

"King Residence Halls. There's a side door on the left that I can meet you at."

"Be there in about 5 minutes?"

"Sounds good. I'll be down by then." And with that, the call ends and you sit on your bed for a good minute, trying to make sense of what just happened on the call. All of this was harmless, right? All the looks and the tension you had been feeling were harmless.

Right?

You hoped everyone was still busy being drunk or at the bar, knowing it'd def cause a stir seeing you get into Professor Choi's car. All of this on the surface level seemed so wrong and so out of place, yet here you were— throwing on some sweats and a hoodie to go on a ride with him. You grab your keys and your phone before heading down towards the side door. To your luck, the residence hall is the quietest it's been in awhile, and there aren't any people lingering around. By the time you walk through the door, there's an all black Toyota GR86 sitting idle. San lowers his passenger window just enough for you to see his eyes, a small smile on his face as you approach his car.

"Hi." He says as you plop in and awkwardly fiddle for the seatbelt.

"Hi Prof— San." You catch yourself [especially in these circumstances] as you settle into the seat and look at him. He lets out a small chuckle before driving off one-handed, his other arm resting on the middle console. "Where are you gonna get food?" Your eyes scan the way he's sat in the driver's seat; manspreading as he drives flawlessly with one hand. You can't help but find him incredibly attractive, and you shouldn't be fucking feeling this way.

It's the alcohol.

"Uh. That's a good question." His eyes dart to the time on his car's navigation screen. "McDonalds, probably."

"Great choice after drinking."

"Want anything?"

"I think I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"Maybe." He chuckles.

"Let me know. I got you." You look at him as you play around with your hoodie strings. "Thanks for coming along on the ride. How'd you know I wanted company?"

"I dunno, really. Just a feeling."

"You looked like you had a lot of fun earlier."

"I did. It was fun. I just wasn't down to walk to more bars."

"Your friends still over there?"

"The boys. Eunchae and Jurin are probably sound asleep in their apartments." San nods. 

"It's good you guys came out. I always try to get people in the lab to come out to events and take a break from school and work."

"It is. It's easy to get yourself way too wrapped up in everything."

"Mhm. And that's why I try to push for a good balance. Don't want you guys to get burned out."

"Did you go out a lot while you were in school? During your postdoc?"

"Um, yeah. Kinda? I wouldn't do anything too crazy, though. I was also with Iseul for a lot of it."

"Oh." You look down at your lap. "Right, sorry."

"Don't be." He laughs. "I don't mind talking about it every now and then. It's not necessarily a secret."

"Mm, still. I didn't mean to pry."

"You didn't." He smiles, dimples on full show when he looks at you then turns back to the road. "But glad you enjoyed yourself. Saw you and your friends doing the little dances." You cover your face in embarrassment and it makes San laugh. "Why? It was cute."

"We were just drunk."

"And having fun!" He reassures you just as he turns onto the street and into the McDonald's lot. "It was nice to see."

"So, you were watching?" You look at him with a tiny smirk, hoping, praying to fucking God you weren't reading into everything incorrectly.

"How couldn't I?" He runs his finger down his bottom lip as he brakes and waits behind the car ahead. He shifts his eyes towards you, subtly eyeing you up and down from where he's sitting. You shake your head and look out the window without verbally responding, biting onto your bottom lip to prevent yourself from saying anything wrong. From smiling too big.

This shit can't be real.

"What's wrong?"

"Hm." You hum, tugging your hoodie up a bit. "You're just making me shy."

"Nothing to be shy about. I just liked watching you have fun. Should I not?"

"No, no one said you shouldn't." San chuckles, his turn to bite onto his bottom lip knowing full well where the rest of this can go. He's just not sure who will make the first move— you or him. Either way, he isn't complaining and he'll take what he gets. Call him selfish, but he thinks he deserves this after everything he's been through. He deserves to be happy, too.

"Sure you don't want anything?" He asks softly as he approaches the drive-thru speaker.

"Ice cream cone?" He nods.

"I got you." You sit quietly in the passenger's seat while he relays the order, pulling through to the last window as instructed. He pays and carefully hands you the ice cream cone before grabbing his small bag of food. You slowly eat away at your ice cream cone, preventing it from dripping all over the place while San drives off to a view nearby. It doesn't take long. In fact, you're just about to dive deep with your cone when San pulls off to a side lot and backs his car right near the edge of the small overlook he's at. There's better views, but this was the closest and it's a decent view— decent enough to help clear your mind, bring you back to reality and remind you of life's little blessings.

"Wanna hang out in the back for a bit? Let you eat that ice cream one in peace?" You chuckle and nod, watching as San hops out to open your door. You slowly walk towards his trunk, letting him clean it up a bit before plopping down to take a seat. You sit next to him, leaving a bit of room in between you two to make sure you don't make him uncomfortable.

"Do you come here a lot?"

"I used to, yeah. Helped me sit in peace for a bit when everything else around me felt too loud and chaotic." He says as he begins to eat away at his snack.

"It's pretty." 

"It is, isn't it?"

"You don't come here anymore?"

"Only if I'm really stressed. Like lately, I guess." You smile a bit.

"You know, I would have never known you were stressing. I know you've got a busy schedule and a lot on your plate, but you never let it show."

"Years of practice." He smirks. "Trust me, it took a long time to get it under control. Probably one of the things Iseul couldn't stand about me." You eat away at the last bits of your ice cream before you look at the end of the cone in your hand.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"How did you get past all of that?"

"Coming here." He laughs. "Nah, but Jongho, too. He's been there with me through everything. I honestly don't know if I'd be here, the way I am, without him."

"That's good that he's been there for you. I can tell you two are really close."

"Yeah. It took me a long time, too." San laughs. "Which goes to say, I had a lot to work on. When that whole thing happened, I was always angry and questioning everything, down to my friends cause of Yunho. I felt so.. low about myself despite everything else I had."

"Understandably so. It was only valid to feel that way after everything you've been through." You pop the end of the cone into your mouth and chew away, causing your cheek to puff out at the size of it. San smiles when he turns to look at you, also popping in the last bits of his sandwich before taking a huge swig of his water bottle to wash it down. "So. You and Yunho were friends?" You pretend to act like you don't know because you don't want San to think it's weird that you know some of the details before you even talked about it. It's his story to tell, anyway.

"He was uh, my bestfriend. Actually."

"Oh. I'm sorry, San."

"It's okay." He chuckles. "Promise. But uh, yeah. Maybe not gonna go down this lane tonight."

"That's okay. You don't need to." You look at him with those sweet, angelic eyes and he almost can't help himself. Well, he finds that he actually can't when his eyes fix on the ice cream at the corner of your lip.

"Wait." He says, taking his thumb to the corner of your lip, wiping off the small ice cream residue.

"Oops." You shyly giggle. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He's doing the look again. He's doing that damn thing where he looks at you with his head slightly tilted to the side, a very tiny, subtle smirk at the corner of his lips. He's so fucking charming, so, so fucking attractive. He's so irresistible, especially when his eyes move from yours, down to your lips and back up to your eyes.

Maybe he's not the only one who can't help themselves.

Because the moment the silence feels a little different between you two, the moment the look feels a little more different, you find your lips crashing onto his in a quick, heated kiss. Everything about this moment is clouding your judgment, and you don't find yourself wanting to pull away. He takes the kiss, and he doesn't waste a moment of it. He feels his urge growing by the second, and feels the need to push this on and on;

And on.

He's wanted you, and he can't even tell you how relieved he is knowing you want him, too.

You straddle his lap and the kiss continues to intensify, becoming more heated and sloppier by the minute. He gives your waist a hard squeeze, a signal begging for you to slowly work your hips against him. Your tongue fights for dominance against his, San letting out a shaky sigh in between when you bite his bottom lip and suck on it.

"Fuck." He groans against your lips before devouring you some more, his hands slowly roaming up your sides. San sees how much your dress has ridden up, doing little to no justice hiding your beautiful thighs; barely covering your pretty parts. His left hand comes right below your breast, giving it a gentle squeeze to test the waters. You let out a small, breathy moan when he starts to leave a trail of kisses against your jaw, your neck. He starts to lick and nip at your favorite sweet spot, causing you to bite your lip and tilt your head back at the growing pleasure building at your core. You move your hips a little quicker, enjoying all of this and being in San's hold a little too much.

Until, the universe decides this is the right time to bring you back down to reality. A loud roar from a car zooming past on the hillside startles you, making you re-evaluate the compromising composition you're in with your professor.

"Oh shit, oh my god—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get carried away like that." You abruptly pull back and hop off of his lap when the reality of what the fuck you're doing hits you.

"What, no? Y/N, it's fine. I—" He tries to reach for your hand but you back away. You're not sure what this means, or what the hell you've done— but you sure as hell just wanna get out of here and be in your own peace while you figure this out.

"God, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean it, San." You look at him and he can't help but knit his brows together in confusion. He wanted this, and he was so fucking happy to see things moving forward between you two; all he sees is fear, confusion and even a lace of guilt in your eyes, and he can't help but feel the same way, too. "Just got carried away, it should've never happened." You add.

"I— yeah." San lets it go, even though he's defeated. This is not what he wanted out of tonight. He didn't expect anything to happen whatsoever, but if it did, this is not how he wanted it to turn out. 

This is not how he wanted tonight to end.

You don't really know when the embarrassment will die down, but it clearly hasn't on your end, and you've been avoiding San like the plague. It's not as hard as you thought it'd be, especially when San hadn't been around much due to his packed schedule and classes. The rare times you did see him, he was always with someone— bringing them down to his office for a meeting. You'd glance over and he'd quickly meet your eyes, but you'd break first and shuffle away to the behavior room. 

Why on earth did you think it was okay to kiss him?

Him, a fucking professor. Let alone the professor you're currently rotating for.

How fucking reckless, Y/N.

Oh so reckless and careless.

—FLASHBACK

San doesn't get back into the car as fast as you do.

He actually lingers outside a little longer, cursing to himself. Hoping this didn't fuck up anything that could have possibility built between you two. Hoping this didn't fuck up anything that could have continued to grow, blossom.

When he finally gets back into the car, it's silent. But, it's an awkward silence. You aren't sure what to say to break the silence, and you aren't even sure what the proper thing to say is. You just know that you can't wait to be home, covering your entire body under the sheets— no longer having to face the world for the night.

"Cold?"

"I'm okay." He leaves it at that. The music is softly playing in the car, thankfully filling some of the void, the awkwardness. You scroll through your phone for the remainder of the ride, texting the boys back as you peep the pictures they sent from bar hopping, telling them to get home safely.

Hopefully, you don't run into them. That'll be a whole other beast to tackle right now, and you almost feel queasy thinking about it.

"You can just pull up there and I can walk." You tell him as he pulls into the familiar grounds of campus, the graduate residence halls passing you by. 

"But, it's late. It's not safe—"

"San, it's fine. I've done this walk a million times because of the boys." 

"There are no boys to walk you back, though."

"It's fine. I promise." He lets out a sigh. You unbuckle your seatbelt before giving him one last, shy look over your shoulder. "Thanks for the ice cream and for letting me tag along."

"Course." He says, letting out yet another disappointed breath as he watches you hurriedly climb out and rush down the street towards your building. He doesn't pull away, slightly drives up to make sure you do make it to your building and are safe inside. He lets out another 'fuck' before driving off to his house, afraid and slightly upset at how things turned out. Not out of selfishness, no. But, San finds himself caring about you more than expected.

He didn't want to let you go, and he's hoping he doesn't have to.

—END

You think you're saved, for the most part, until you receive a text from San on a random Wednesday afternoon. You've just gotten back from having a late lunch with your friends, making your way down to the basement to finish up your work for the rest of the afternoon.

san: can you come to my office?

You don't respond right away, and it's almost like San knew you were staring at your phone, waiting for the right time to text him back.

san: please? it's important.

you: i'm heading down to the basement, i'll be there in about 5 minutes. is that okay?

san: more than okay.

You let out a sigh just as you tuck your phone away, taking your steps a little slower than usual to buy yourself some time. When you finally get to the basement, you set your things down on your desk and slip your laptop out. You make your way to his office with your laptop and notebook pressed to your chest, giving his door a few soft knocks before you hear his 'come in' from the other side.

"Hey." He says, meeting you right by the door. You hear him silently lock the door shut behind him before plopping onto his couch with a loud sigh. 

"Hi."

"Can you come here?"

"San, we're in your office—" He chuckles and pulls you down onto the couch next to him.

"I know. Door is locked. Don't worry." You let out a sigh with a small pout and he finds it adorable. "Y/N, I promise it's fine." You ease a little feeling his arm pressed against yours, body heat providing some kind of comfort.

"So, what did you wanna talk about?"

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

"Who said I was?" He cocks his head to the side before giving you a little smirk. 

"You don't think I can pick up on how different you've been acting?"

"Well, San. I don't know?" You shrug. "That whole thing that happened shouldn't have happened and I'm still trying to figure out how to move past it because—"

"Who says it shouldn't have happened?" It's your turn to give him a look. You pause and try to read his body language, but nothing about him is defensive. Hostile. Regretful.

None of the above.

"San." You call him, almost defeatedly. "You and I both know we shouldn't have done that. I'm rotating in your lab."

"I know, the surface of it is terrible. It's wrong by the university's code and policies. But, I'm asking you."

"Asking me what exactly?"

"Do you think it shouldn't have happened?" Well, no, you think. If you were being completely and utterly honest, you would say no. You would say you wanted it because you thought he felt the same. You would say you wanted him so badly; fuck the rules in the book! But, you don't say anything, and it's enough for San to know exactly what you wanted without you having to say it out loud. "Y/N." He says softly before lifting your chin with his free hand. You don't even realize you've been playing with his other hand, fingers softly intertwining with his as you ponder on the question. "Have dinner with me. Let me take you out on a date." 

"San." You slightly frown. Not because of him, but because of the entire situation as a whole. It's still all so much and so, so confusing. You've never had to navigate through treacherous waters like this.

"What's wrong, hm? You can tell me anything, remember?"

"I'm just scared."

"About what?"

"This, whatever this is. I don't even know what to call it, we shouldn't even be doing this. If anyone finds out, it could ruin you. It could ruin everything you've worked so hard for." He shakes his head. 

"This is not gonna ruin anything. I—" He pauses, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I want you, Y/N. I wanna explore this with you. It's been confusing and it's been difficult to navigate my feelings because I didn't know if you felt the same, but the other night—" He lets out a small breath. "You really do make me feel some type of way that no one else does. I haven't been able to get my mind off of it." His eyes roam your features. "Off of you." You sit next to him silently, trying to debate between right and wrong, between yes and no, between needs and wants; still, your answer comes to San. Even if it is terrifying. "Let me take you to dinner. Or not, it's up to you. But, I wanna at least show you I mean it."

"Can I think about this?" You keep your eyes on him, still a bit anxious and scared about all of this blowing up in your faces. It was so risky, so dangerous, so.. thrilling. Because Choi San is asking you to dinner. He wants your attention, and he wants to take you out. How in the hell did you get here weeks after the quarter just started? 

"Of course you can." 

"If I go, I should probably drive this once, though. I just don't want anyone catching on." And this was probably helping you relieve the pressure of going on this date with him; you wouldn't have to be tied down from the car ride, to dinner— to your trek back home. It's not that you didn't want to either, but it seemed safer this way. It seemed less stressful this way. You could give yourself some breathing room in between the dinner itself.

Because these were treacherous waters.

"Are you sure? We can always meet somewhere else."

"San. There's eyes everywhere on campus and nearby, you know that."

"But, I did plan to pick you up and drive you, do all the work for you so you don't have to lift a finger." He pouts a bit and you giggle.

"And I love that. Thank you. I'm just trying to figure out how to keep a good balance for us right now. I'll think about it, okay?" He sighs and nods in slight defeat because as much as he wants to spoil you right away, you do have to be careful about your movements, actions. There are eyes everywhere on campus and people do question everything. Speaking from his own experience, word gets around quick.

He hates this. He knows he's putting you in a tough position, but god, he loves the way you make him feel. He feels giddy, like a lovesick teenage boy who is chasing after his long-time crush. He feels things when he sees you, feels his knees get a little weaker when he hears your laugh or sees you smile. He feels butterflies when you brush past him and give him that cute little subtle smirk. He feels the need to hold you close, to kiss you. Hold your hand and keep you safe. Wants to get to know every thing about you: your pet peeves, your hobbies, your family, what makes you happy. Do many, many other things to show you how attracted he is to you. How you make him feel.

He hasn't felt this in a long, long time— hasn't felt genuine happiness like this in a long, long time. 

He deserves to be happy, too. Especially after thinking for so long that he wasn't cut to be happy, wasn't meant to feel genuine connections and real relationships after his marriage fell through the way it did.

But, you're here and he refuses to let you get away.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thespiffynerd @vixensss @santineez @nopension

[tainsan]

misfits (college!ateez x reader)

When your world comes crashing down, the only people who are able to comfort you are the notorious group, Ateez. You’ve heard rumour after rumour about the eight males who are ice cold, yet for some reason, they are the warmest people you know.

Please read me: {hello! so finally i have wrote enough for me to release the first chapter and i really hope it is good enough for the lovely people who have been patiently waiting. there will be more chapters to come in the future so please do look forward to them! just so you all know there is a few trigger warnings i have to go through so just in case you are uncomfortable with certain subjects to read with caution and with your own comfort in mind. at the start of every chapter i will put the warnings that correlate with the said chapter. in this story there are topics of swearing, depression, anxiety, ptsd, suicide, negelection and mental abuse. so if you are not comfortable reading these please either avoid this story or read with extreme caution. your wellbeing is more important than anything. 

Now like i said in my previous post, this is going to be a poly!ateez story so hence there will be future smut and suggestive themes (which i will also put in the warnings before the chapter starts) but the message in the story is very much about past trauma and finding people who can help, heal and love you despite your imperfections.

With that all said! I hope you enjoy the first chapter of ‘Misfits’ and thank you kindly for waiting. 

do not steal my work or repost on places other than tumblr. 

with thanks to @musicdork and @moraxology for the help and ideas shared with me. thank you <3

-----THIS IS AN 18+ FANFICTION MINORS DO NOT INTERACT-----

Misfits, Chapter 1

⇢ masterlist ⇠ 

⇢ next chapter

warnings: anxiety attack, swearing, mentions of a house fire.

word count: 8.8k

Heart dropping to your stomach, you attempt to make sense of the words that are displayed on the small illuminating screen sat in front of you. Devastation hits you like a ton of bricks as you realise once again, it feels like the world is trying to punish you. Reading over the email once again, you let out an exasperated groan and let your head fall down onto your arms relaxing on the table.

“You’re homeless?” Your best friend almost screeches, scanning over the email present on your small laptop screen. 

“Okay a little louder Jisung and the aliens on the Saturn will fucking hear you,” You react, your voice muffled by your clothes.

“What happened? I thought your place was in one of the nicer areas?” 

Looking up from the desk, you see Jisung peering at you with a concerned expression.

“Do you remember those new tenants that moved in below me?” you ask, causing Jisung to nod his head, "Well they accidentally started a fire, and it burnt down half of the place because the owners weren’t smart enough to install fire hydrants around the residence.

“Isn’t it illegal to not have designated fire hydrants in a building?” 

“Probably, I mean that’s what I get for going for the cheapest available housing I could find, they say it's going to take at least a year to repair the damage.”

"Are all of your belongings okay?" 

"Not really, I managed to save most things like my books and some clothes but everything else is burnt. They say they are going to give me some money back for the damage, but I doubt it’ll be much."

"Then where are you staying now?"

"Yeji said I could stay with her for a few days, but she has a roommate moving in soon, so I have to get out before the end of this week."

"You have to start looking for a place to live __, I wish I could help you," 

Jisung lives with his boyfriend and friends in great student accommodation, there are only four rooms, yet they manage to fit eight grown men in there. Sadly, there's simply not enough space for another person.

“I’m aware of that, but all the school properties are full, and I’ve seen no flyers from people searching for roommates. There’s no way I'm looking for housing outside of the area, I would have to sell both my kidneys to afford a month's worth of rent. This apartment was the only place that was in my budget if I didn't want a roommate. At this point, I should probably start looking for a nice cosy bridge to live under.” 

Jisung lets out a stifled laugh before quickly covering his mouth realising the two of you are residing in a library. Being in a secluded area, noise isn’t really a problem, yet three other people are sitting near you, resting on the opposite side of the large wooden table. Two huddled next to each other, sharing a laptop, likely watching YouTube and one with striking blonde hair resting his head on his arms, undoubtedly sleeping.

“How many days until you have to move out?” Jisung inquires, laying his head on his hand and gazing at you. 

“Uh, I think like a week,” 

“Oh, so it’s not like you have to move out right now,” your best friend replies, a calm smile covering his features.

“Yeah, but I doubt that somebody is abruptly going to need a roommate out of nowhere,” 

Then, you hear rustling, then suddenly the guy who was sleeping on your table abruptly stands up, grabs his things, and rushes out of the library. 

“Probably had a nightmare or something,” Jisung chuckles, lighting up your mood.

“When’s your next lesson?” You ask, hoping he doesn't have to leave too soon. 

Observing as Jisung whips out his phone and looks at the time, he lets out a sigh.

“Starts in seven minutes, it takes like five minutes to walk there. I better get going,” Jisung replies, grabbing his books and laptop.

“Must you leave so soon? You can’t leave me here to tutor for three hours straight.” You let out a fake cry and hang onto his arm, pleading for him to stay. 

“You're the one who wanted the extra credit, don't blame me!” 

Bickering for a minute more, you eventually let Jisung get to his class, the two others across the table departing as well, leaving you alone.

Grumbling to yourself, you wonder why you even offered to tutor people, the extra credit is little to nothing. Alas, it’s too late to back out now as you have two people arriving soon. Typically, you only take people who you know personally, but Jisung’s boyfriend, Minho, said two of his classmates requested him to ask you to tutor, telling him they really needed assistance in maths. You hope they are pleasant because you are not about to be spending the next three hours with two arseholes.

You also typically only take one person at a time but due to your current tight schedule, you decided to just do two at once. You need the time later to look for new places to live anyway. The unknown two needed teaching in the same subject at least, works out fine.

Returning to your laptop you start typing, trying to finish as much of your lab report as you can before they show up.

“No Yeosang said she was around this corner.” 

A hushed voice breaks you out of your concentration, yet you pay no interest and hurriedly get back to typing.

“You’re __ right?” A monotone voice speaks out from your left.

You turn upon hearing your name and see a guy standing next to where you are sitting. Quickly you scan over his face, noticing the way his cheeks display small dimples as his face shifts and the slit in one of his eyebrows.

“I’m San, Minho told you about us, right?” 

Noting the way he said ‘us’, you turn fully backwards and see a noticeably built man standing by San, his face holding little to no emotion as he stares blankly towards you. In your mind, you hope these aren’t the two you are tutoring, noticing how intimidating their presence is.

“We are here for tutoring lessons,” the unnamed person speaks, and you curse upon your luck.

“Oh right, you can take a seat where you’d like.”

You mentally cuss out Minho for not informing you about how intense and handsome his classmates were, you let out a scoff under your breath as you start to pull out your maths textbooks.

“So, what were your guy's names, I’m not too good with names so if I forget, please don't take it personally,” you shyly confess, hoping they are not going to take it the wrong way. You detect the way some sort of stunned expression goes across their faces, but it disappears as soon as it had appeared.

“I’m Choi San, good to meet you.” San nods in your direction, his emotions still unreadable, a subtle glare still present along his features.

“San, I see. You too,” You mumble, slightly scared by his strong character. You attempt a small smile and shake his hand, trying to ignore the way you feel his eyes boring into your skull. Moving your attention to the man sitting next to him, you smile gently, noticing the way his cheeks are dusted with a light pink colour.

“Choi Jongho,” He reaches out his hand and you gladly take it, feeling slightly less intimidated by the seemingly kinder man.

Replying with your own name, you realise they already knew it, making you curse yourself for the sheer awkwardness emitting from your body as you notice Jongho and San are neither looking at you.

Slightly glancing up at you, San notices your flustered state and a faint smile ghosts his face.

Shaking off your clumsiness rapidly, you start to focus on the task at hand.

“So, what are you two looking to go over today?” you ask, opening your notebook that was conveniently placed in front of you. What you don’t expect is Jongho and San immediately look at each other with wide eyes, almost as if they are taken aback by the question.

“You guys don’t know what you want to go over?” 

“No, sorry, we have been having problems with our two recent algebra assignments.” Jongho replies, his tough exterior cracking ever so slightly as he ruffles his black hair. 

“Okay then,” you answer, a little puzzled at the two's sudden and strange gestures, yet you pay no mind to it as you reach into your backpack to grab your mathematics textbook. You’ve seen much stranger things in this college anyway.

When you proceed with the session you are surprised by the two men sitting in front of you. Although being very intimidating, the two are very good listeners and attentive to everything you say or do. Writing notes and nodding at almost every word you say. After an extensive explanation, you let Jongho and San try to solve a practice question. During this time, you take the time to admire the two in front of you. You can see they are extremely close by the way their bodies face each other naturally, and the way they look at each other. Meanwhile, you can’t help but wonder why you haven't seen them on campus before. Certainly, you would've heard or seen something about these two very good-looking men, knowing how much the people here like to gossip. Well after all, you have never been one for gossip and fangirling over the popular campus heartthrobs. Brushing your thoughts to the side, you start to read over the same page for the fifth time.

After the second hour, it intrigues you how smart they are, only needing you to once go over something and they already have the answer or even occasionally you swear you see one of them write an answer without you describing how to find it. Perhaps they are fast learners? Due to the fact, they are so quick, it only takes two of the three hours for you to cover everything they wished to go over, and their assignments are almost finished, just needing the final touches.

"There we go,” you exclaim, stretching your arms over your head, letting out a content groan as you let your back straighten up, "if you need future help, you can always call me." Even though it’s perhaps pretentious to offer this to such tough guys, you’re happy to be able to have such good students who actually listen. Unlike your last session which you spent way too many hours on.

Jongho looks up from his laptop with a wide eye look, "that’d be helpful," 

"Can you take my number?" San holds his hand open, expecting your phone and you are shocked at his utter forwardness. Even though you know it’s not intended in a flirtatious way, your heart quickens at the gesture, never having been asked for your number before. 

Passing your phone to the male in front of you, you notice San observing the Sanrio stickers stuck to the back of it. The male lets out a short burst of air through his nose, and you don’t know whether he’s mocking you or scoffing. As you look at him to analyse his reaction, you see a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, but it doesn’t seem in a taunting way. You continue staring at him as he puts his number into your phone.

Unexpectedly he looks up and straight into your investigating eyes, catching you by surprise, immediately looking away from him and at the open book in front of you pretending to read it, even though you know he knows you have already read over the page multiple times in the past ten minutes.

“Wait, what time is it?" Jongho asks San. Watching San pull out his phone, you see a glimpse of his phone case, it looks something like a character, but you can’t see it as he places his phone face up on the table.

"Quarter to twelve," San responds, his phone screen lighting up for a split second, you manage to catch a quick sight of his lock screen. It appears to be a group photo, with numerous faces smiling brightly at the camera. So, they have more friends.

"We have about thirty minutes till ecology, do you want to go to the canteen?" Jongho questions as he begins to put his belongings into his bag. 

"I could use a snack,” San answers, stretching back into the chair, his arms above his head just as you did earlier.

"Coming with us?" Jongho asks as he stands up from his chair and pushes it back beneath the table.

Bewildered by the question, you wonder as to why they want you to come when they have been nothing but distant this entire time. Glancing back at your unfinished lab report displayed on your laptop, you feel conflicted. Yet a break from the tedious work would be rather nice. There's no harm in pulling another all-nighter.

"I could also do with something to eat," Your smile is bright as you stuff your laptop into your bag, happy to have a reason to escape the tedious work on the small screen of your laptop. 

It is a rather fast walk to the canteen; it is conveniently on the same wing as the library. Expecting the canteen to be full to the brim of students getting lunch, you’re surprised to see the canteen completely empty. You are rather pleased with the serenity of the canteen, feeling at ease that there are no judging eyes watching your every move. Pacing over to the cooled section of food, your footsteps echo in the large room, then you notice San and Jongho trailing after you, looking quite lost. 

"Have you guys never been to the canteen before or something?" You inquire, chuckling at their antics before grabbing a carton of banana milk and an apple.

"It's not particularly our scene, we eat our meals at our place." San answers, staring down at the banana milk in your hand. So, they live together, it makes sense seeing how close they are.

“You guys don't live in student buildings?” You question, that does explain why you've never seen them around, knowing most people who reside in the student dorms. You resume walking towards a table to sit, you grab two more banana milk before sitting down and popping a straw into your drink.

"No, we live near the new park, Eastwood Drive," Jongho replies.

This information almost makes you spit out your drink. Eastwood is not only part of a huge real estate area but one of the richest areas near our school. Absolutely no students would be able to afford that. It's an area full of houses like mansions or condos bigger than a regular house.

"Are you okay?" Jongho asks, hurriedly rushing to your side and patting your back, San chuckles at the scene and passes you a bottle of water from his seat. 

"Yes, I'm fine," You say between coughs, "thank you," you take a gulp of water from the bottle before handing it back to him.

"Sorry it's just, how on earth do you afford that house there's no way you guys just have it. Did you have to sell your soul to the devil or something?" 

Both males let out soft laughs and for the first time you see something other than scowls on their faces, instead replaced by gentle amusement.

"No, we didn't, one of our roommates' mothers is the owner of the real estate and she lets us live there," San answers your question.

"We do still have to pay rent, which is above average, but it's not anything like the rent we would have to pay if we were actually living there," Jongho adds, "plus we have quite a few roommates, so it's spread out pretty evenly." So, they have multiple roommates.

"I see," you hum as you let the information in. Of course, they have several roommates, the house is big enough for ten people, most likely. 

"And you?" Jongho questions looking at you. His expression is back to his resting face, until he realises his question, eyes going wide he continues, “not in a creepy, I'm sorry please don't take it the wrong way!" he rambles on. 

Laughing out, you wave your hands in a friendly way to dismiss his thoughts.

"No no, it's okay," you chuckle, not really sure how to explain to them that your house was recently made into a fresh stock of charcoal.

“It's kind of complicated I'll be honest," you start, San and Jongho’s expressions twitch in curiosity, "Well I was living at Coast Lane," 

"Oh, the one near the shopping centre?" Jongho inquires. You nod your head back in confirmation.

"Wait but wasn't that place burnt down a few days ago?" San asks, looking at Jongho and then back at you with a worried look. Their hearts fill with worry for you.

"Yep," you say, popping the p at the end, "that's why I said I was living," you say looking down, chucking dryly.

"Where are you living now then?" San asks, his voice laced with something similar to worry. 

"I'm staying at a friend's house, but they are getting a new roommate at the end of this week, so I need to move out by then." 

"Have you found anywhere to live yet?" Jongho questions, looking sorrowful. You are surprised by the amount of worry you suddenly feel from San and Jongho. However, you shake your head as 'no' and proceed to take another sip of your drink. 

"I have an idea." San abruptly says standing up from his chair, catching your and Jongho's attention, "Excuse me I have to talk to someone, Jongho. Joong." 

Jongho's eyes light up with some sort of awareness and he also rapidly stands from his chair, leaving you even more confused, unsure where the sudden energy comes from, you also wonder who the fuck 'Joong' is and why do they need to see him so suddenly. 

"See you soon, __.” Jongho’s smile is warm and contagious, he then turns to leave with the taller man.

"Wait, guys!” You exclaim, "here," you hand them both a cartoon of banana milk that you grabbed earlier. "Drink these, you can't focus if you're dehydrated, " you say, heat rising up from your chest. 

Both of the men look at you shocked at the kind gesture, surprised someone actually cares about their well-being. Giving you a thank you, the two men leave with red subtly covering their cheeks, both trying to immediately force it away before someone sees them with a giddy expression.

 ----

"Then they just stood up and left," You replay the events from earlier today to Jisung, who is sipping on a mojito. After the busy day you both shared, Jisung and you decided to go to a bar that recently opened not too far from campus. It is small and cosy, not too full of people, mostly students from your school rewinding from the day, just like you.

"Psycho behaviour," Jisung jokes whilst you take a sip of your drink. Laughing, you push Jisung's arm gently.

"I don't know, they were certainly intimidating but I could tell they were okay people," you exclaim truthfully. If you said that the three hours you spent with the two weren't pleasant you’d be lying.

"Do you have a crush on them or something?" Jisung inquires, rather loudly, getting far too excited. Hoping that no one heard him through the low jazz music resounding in the small bar, you quieten down your best friend quickly by covering his mouth with your free hand.

"Ji the entire bar does not need to know about my personal endeavours, and no I do not have a crush on them, they are just simply cute," you say exasperated.

“So, you do find them cute! The last time you had a crush as back in high school, this is big news,”

“There is no news dumbass, they are just cute. I find kittens cute, and I don’t want to date them.”

Jisung’s face contorts into a mixture of disgust and humour.

"Wait, what are their names?" Jisung questions his voice back to a reasonable volume.

"Choi San and Choi Jongho, I've never even heard of them, to be honest. You'd think I would've seen these handsome men bef, what is with that look on your face?" you stop your ramble as you see the very obviously shocked look on Jisung's face. 

"Are you fucking serious?" Jisung says slowly.

Confused, you simply answer, "yeah they needed help with maths. it was your boyfriend who set the tutor session up."

"Yeah, because they probably threatened him?" Jisung says tensing up.

"What do you mean threatened, they were huge sweethearts," you say amused at Jisung. Your laughing momentarily halts when you see the serious look on Jisung's small face.

"What is it?" 

"___, Choi San and Choi Jongho are part of that group." 

Your baffled expression remains on your features, clearly unfazed by this information.

"What is that like a cult or something?" you joke.

"Girl, are you living under a fucking rock? Ateez, the group called Ateez. The super scary ones practically haunt this school. I'm surprised they talked to Minho. I'm pretty sure he's going to be scarred now."

Slowly but surely, your brain starts to put things into place.

"Wait, that group Sola told us about?”

As Jisung confirms your question, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise. A few months ago, you had been told by some classmates about them briefly, they were talking rather loudly about them. Apparently, they had done some terrible things when they were in high school then just disappeared for a few years. Most people thought they dropped out or moved abroad. The year they returned, they started this university out of nowhere together and have been a notorious group ever since, being known for staying foul and bitter towards everyone except themselves. Yet, nobody seems to know the reason for their ice-cold hearts. You never really bothered to keep up with the rumours or gossip, it wasn’t necessary for you to know, however you start to think maybe you should pay more attention due to your recent interaction with two of the people in the group.

"But they were nice?" your question, more to yourself than to Jisung.

"I don't know about you, but you probably got the wrong people." 

You don't believe Jisung is lying but at the same time… The two men you had tutored earlier today were definitely not members of the notorious group. 

Surely not. 

Yes, they were intimidating, but nowhere near as bad as anything people say about them. From what you've heard about the group, they are cold, heartless, selfish, and miserable. Staying only in the group of eight, others not even daring to look them in the eyes as they pass them.

"If they were the people that you were tutoring yesterday, you may have gotten yourself into something you can't get out of. They have hundreds of fangirls, who are very possessive over them and people who want them dead. I don’t know of a single person who is fond of them. It’s best if you stay far away from them." Jisung says with a nervous expression. 

Unexpectedly, his phone lights up and you see Minho's caller ID appear. Jisung glances back up at you with a questioning look, requesting if he can take it.

"Go ahead," you push your smile and watch as he leaves to find a quiet place.

Your heart beats heavily against your chest and you feel your throat tighten. ‘Come on’ you think, this isn't the best place for you to have an anxiety attack. Possibly, it's that the new information is far too overwhelming. You are barely keeping up with your classes, your apartment just burnt down, and now you’re somewhat engaged with an apparently dangerous group that has no good stories. Feeling your breathing getting jagged and your heart getting heavier by the second, you attempt to focus on your breathing. Trying to remember the breathing exercises your mother taught you when you were younger, you attempt breathing in deeply, but it doesn't work, leaving you to breathe in and out in a fast manner. It's okay, it's okay. You repeat yourself, in an attempt to comfort yourself, but your brain is yelling 'it's not okay, look how stupid you've been and got yourself into a senseless situation again. Fucking idiot'. You put your head in your hands and start gently rocking on the barstool, tears threatening to fall out of your eyes. Unexpectedly, a presence appears next to you and before you know it, their warm hand is rubbing up and down your back in a soothing manner. 

"Shh it's okay, it's all going to be okay." a deep voice speaks from your right. You don't care to look up, only basking in the way the figure's hand caresses your back in a comforting way. To your surprise, it works miracles. Your breathing is back to a reasonable state within the next minute. Only then do you look up from your hands, your eyes lock with a beautiful man. He wears a comforting smile, his eyes full of sympathy and something else you can't quite put your finger on, his hand not slowing on your back. Trying to smile back at him, you wipe the tears you didn't even know had fallen, with the sleeves of your sweatshirt before regaining the words to speak.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," you say, abruptly embarrassed that a very handsome man just had to see a small breakdown of yours. 

"It's perfectly okay. I've had enough anxiety attacks to know you can't control where you have them." the man admits, scratching the back of his neck with an awkward smile on his face. The voice of the man is deep, yet soft, making you feel awfully relaxed.

"You have anxiety?" you ask, sniffling your nose.

The man chuckles and looks down at his hands, "longer than I can remember, yeah," he looks back up at you, "rubbing my back is how my friends comfort me, so I hope it somewhat worked for you too." 

"It worked amazingly, it's actually how my mother used to comfort me," you express, still slightly ashamed to be sharing this information with a stranger, let alone such a good-looking one. Yet knowing he goes through the same things as you, comforts you more than you realise. The male looks around him, almost as if he’s worried someone will see him, he then looks back down to your smaller figure which is closer to him than he remembered. Clearing his throat, he steps away a little bit, concerned you would feel uncomfortable with the closeness of your bodies. 

“I do need to go now, but it was nice to meet you," The man says whilst leaving the barstool to your right. Not sure why, but you feel sad that he has to leave so soon. Feeling so relaxed around a stranger has you shocked, wishing you could stay with this unknown feeling.

"Thank you," you say, grateful to have him there for you.

"Anytime.”

"I’ll see you around." You return his smile.

Nodding his head, he gives one last smile before departing the bar's exit, a growing smile adorning his features as he exits the bar.

“Hey I’m back.”

Whipping your head to the left, you see Jisung sitting back in his stool. Opening your mouth to tell him about what just happened, you attempt to get the words out but for some reason, you are unable to find the words. Not wanting to worry your best friend with your sudden onset anxiety attack, you decide to stay quiet.

What are these unexplainable encounters you've been having with handsome men recently?

----

Climbing over bags and coats, you find a seat in a calmer area of the stadium you just arrived at. Spotting Minho in the field doing some warm-ups with his team, you feel relaxed to see someone you know. When he sees you, he waves happily. Smiling, you reach for your phone to quickly text Jisung asking where he is. All of a sudden, a rush of cold air gets swept in by the wind, causing you to freeze up. Never liking the cold, you debate heavily at this moment whether you should just leave. However, you travelled all the way from Yeji’s to here in the cold. It seems like a waste to just go back, even if it freezes you to death to stay. After all, you need to support Minho, him being one of your only friends, for the football game. Jisung is supposed to be joining you but you’re sure he's busy picking out a cute outfit to swoon Minho. 

Over the past few days Jisung has been trying to teach you the names of Ateez so you know to run if they approach you. Seemingly stupid, but you do need fewer distractions in the hope to graduate with honours. From what Jisung has told you, there are eight members, and they are all of similar age, the youngest being in the same classes as he managed to skip a year due to him exceeding the level of people his age. However, Jisung teaching you their names doesn’t really stick to you, never being good at names it doesn’t help that you don’t know what they look like. It would be much easier learning their names if you actually had photos so you can put a name to a face, but of course they don’t have Instagram accounts, and if they saw people taking photos of them, they’d likely murder you on the spot. Or that’s what Jisung says.

You are suddenly brought out of your thoughts when a voice sounds in your ears.

“Could I sit here?” a soft, yet deep captivating voice speaks out. 

Curiously, you look to your left to see who the owner of the voice is. Surprisingly, you see a blonde male with a mask covering his face. He is standing next to the seat where you have placed your bag, and you realise he is asking for the seat.

“Oh yes, of course, sorry,” you hurriedly grab your bag and place it between your legs, allowing the male to take a place next to you.

“Thank you,” he says, a very small smile on his lips. When he sits down, he takes off his mask, and you glance at him one more time, taking in his visuals. With his fluffy hair and red tinted cheeks and a small mark of pink next to one of his eyes, he is truly a work of art. Yet, for some reason, you can't help but feel like you've seen him before.

“I'm sorry have I met you before, you seem really familiar?” you ask inquisitively, not being able to match a name to a face.

“We may have run into each other once or twice,” the blonde male puts his hand out for a handshake.

Gladly taking his hand in yours, you shake with a small smile on your face.

“It is a small world, I'm __.” 

The male takes his hand away and back into his coat pocket, shivering in the icy air.

“Are you Jisung's girlfriend?” he questions.

Rolling your eyes, slightly annoyed at the question, you go to answer. It has been thousands of times that people have asked about your and Jisung's relationship, mistaking you for a couple and not just a couple of friends. After a while it gets rather irritating, the question being asked countless amounts of times.

"No, we aren't, we are just best friends, I'm pretty sure Jisung came out as gay like two years ago. Plus, he's literally dating the quarterback, Lee Minho." you chuckle slightly.

"Oh sorry! I didn't mean to offend you in any way." 

"No! It's really okay, it's just I get asked a lot, so it becomes annoying after a while. I mean look at Jisung, he has baby girl written all over him." 

“Cold?” he questions.

The blondie next to you lets out a small chuckle acknowledging the man you are always with isn’t your boyfriend.

Sensing a gaze on you, you turn back to the blonde male whose eyes are looking at the goosebumps on your exposed arms.

“I probably should’ve brought at least a jumper. I've been so wrapped up with exams and tutoring I’ve been forgetting everything,” you say, laughing slightly, embarrassed that you went outside wearing just a t-shirt in the middle of November.

The male lets out a laugh before speaking, “it’s okay, I understand. If I’m being honest, I've also been having so much struggle with studying, my stress is all over the place.” He wonders for a second why he even shared this with you, concerned for a second you will see him in a bad light.

“I'm sorry to hear that.” you contemplate for a moment, “Look I have these if you want,” reaching into your pocket, you grab some rescue drops. “These help me a lot,”

You place the small bottle in his hand, and a giant smile covers his face. “What? I’ve actually been looking for these everywhere and I can never find them! They’ve been sold out in every shop.” Blondie looks back up at you, “but you have anxiety you need these more than me,” 

Pausing for a second, you wonder how he knows you have anxiety, nonetheless, you continue “It’s perfectly fine, Jisung’s parents work at a pharmacy back in my hometown and they send me a few of these whenever they are in stock, you can keep them.” you inform him, his smile brightening your cold mood shockingly fast. You’re not even sure why you gave him them, it was your last bottle. You guess that’s what happens when you are a people pleaser. The smile on the male’s face only grows wider, his heart jumping at your kind action.

“Thank you so much __,”

“It’s no worries, if you ever need some more, look for the loud group of small guys acting like four-year-olds.” you laugh, and he chuckles along with you, making a mental note, even though he knows he will likely never approach the group.

Before you can focus back on the starting game, you feel a soft material cover your shivering body. It is a large zip-up that smells of rich, sweet perfume. Turning quickly to the blonde guy with confusion covering your features, you hurriedly dismiss the action, seeing his arms exposed to the winter air.

“I can’t take this; you’ll get too cold.” you stop your words as he pulls out another sweater from his bag. 

“I've got my friend’s sweater, you keep mine until you’re warm.” he turns to face the game, "or until Jisung sees and freaks out and tells everyone you have a secret boyfriend." he jokes.

“You seem to know Jisung?” you ask, wondering how he knows Jisung’s personality quite well.

“Well, we know each other, but we aren’t particularly friends,” blondie turns fully towards you, “are you sure you don’t know me at all?”

“I'm sorry but I really only have like two friends, I don't really go out.” 

“But Jisung is super popular, aren't you in his huge partying friend group?”

“Not really, his friends are lovely but I’m only close with him and his boyfriend, I'm not too good at making friends.” you quietly mumble the last part. You look over at the blondie and see he has slight confusion on his face.

“You are so kind, I’m sure anyone would want to be your friend." 

"You’d be the first to think that" you dryly admit, which causes the male to feel a twinge of pain and guilt in his heart, "I would rather stay inside all-day binge-watching television whilst eating away my stress,"

"Well, that’s one thing we have in common." 

Sharing a warm smile with him, you start to get lost in your thoughts again, but then you realise a question you never returned.

“I’m so sorry I never got your name.”

“No worries, I’m Yeosang.” he has the same smile on his face, making you feel warm despite the bitter winter air. Then his familiarity dawns on you.

“Kang?” you inquire, your voice rising ever so slightly.

“That’s me,” he smiles at me, and you don't know if your heart rises because of how beautiful his smile is or because you recognise the name from Jisung’s teaching session with the members of Ateez.

“Like from Ateez,” you question, watching your words, if Ateez is as bad as Jisung is saying then you definitely need to watch your words.

Yeosang turns to you, almost looking baffled.

“I thought you didn't know about Ateez?” he questions, shocked.

“What made you think that?”

“Just a guess I suppose, being that you don't really go out I assumed you weren’t really interested in the groups and stuff.” 

“Ah well not particularly, but recently I suppose I’ve gotten to know about it better.”

“You're not scared, are you?” you see Yeosang tense up a little, his eyebrows furrowed. He hopes for the best, not knowing how you will react. Surprisingly, your heart softens at this question, he seems upset for some reason, as if he doesn't want to be seen this way. You feel bad for ever acting stressed towards him.

“Don't worry, the only person that scares me is Jisung when he's hungry.” you joke out, relaxing the tension and calming him. From what you can see, Yeosang is just kind and calm. The only thing that's menacing about him is the fact he’s drop-dead gorgeous.

Yeosang lets out a small chuckle, “well I guess now I know I need to avoid Jisung if he’s hungry,”

You agree with the blonde man, whilst lightly laughing.

“Wait, but why are you watching? Aren’t you supposed to be on the pitch?” You ask him, confused, remembering Jisung informing you that Yeosang is a part of one of the school's football teams, along with someone else whose name you can’t remember at the moment. For a moment Yeosang’s chest fills with pride, knowing you know something about him.

“Someone is taking my spot today, I was told to analyse the opposing team to find out their habits and stuff, hence the notepad.”

Looking down, you notice the small notepad with doodles all over the cover, making your heart swell. Yeosang continues to talk,

“Don’t tell my tactics to Minho,” he jokes with a grin on his face, knowing Minho is on the other team.

“I would never betray you like that,” you place your hand over your chest acting offended. 

Both cracking up, you speak up again, “don't worry, your secrets are safe with me.”

“Sang!” You hear a voice call from the left, and your eyes lay on another attractive man, “Coach told us to sit with him,” this male also has a notepad in his grip. 

You know this guy. He works in a small café not too far from campus, it is down a narrow alleyway, covered by vines and moss. It was a very hidden spot and only locals really knew the place. Only knowing it because you walked past it every day for a year as the alleyway was a shortcut to your housing from the campus. Barely anyone goes there, the regulars being either old women or businesspeople quickly rushing in to get a coffee before work starts. Back at the beginning of the semester, you used to go to the café a lot because of the raspberry muffins, yet they stopped selling them thus forth you stopped going as much. It was also due to the fact you had barely any time to sleep, so you cut it out of your morning schedule to be able to sleep in a little. You think the guy’s name was Wooyoung if you can remember his name tag correctly. You notice he sees you sitting next to Yeosang, with his friend’s hoodie over your shoulders and a smile consumes his entire face. 

“Muffin?” he looks confused, yet somewhat glad to see you once again. The nickname extremely takes you aback. “Why did you stop coming to the café?”

As far as you can recall, back when you visited the café, this server was rather distant and limited to saying little to no words whilst waiting. Seeing him like this confuses you severely. Alas, you let out a giggle and both of the boys' grins widen visibly.

“You two better get going, I'm not sure your coach wants to wait any longer.” 

Yeosang stands up and straightens out his pants before turning to you,

“Hopefully I’ll see you around.” he smiles warmly. Smiling back at him, you nod. Yeosang starts to leave with Wooyoung before he turns around.

“I better see you at the café tomorrow! Plus, that sweater looks good on you, Muffin.” he winks and Yeosang slaps the back of his head.  You can’t help but giggle yet feel flustered. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung walk towards the coach’s section, Yeosang slightly more affected than the male next to him. Hopefully he will get his hoodie back, and hopefully it will smell like you. After this interaction, your mind was even more confused. If you remember correctly, Yeosang and Wooyoung have a very big reputation for being some of the rudest and coldest towards people. Yet they were so friendly when you were with them. Is everything all these people are saying about them true or maybe the group of eight is just deeply misunderstood?

Whatever it is, you need to talk to Jisung about this, but you will wait until the game is over.

----

The night of the interaction between Yeosang and Wooyoung, Jisung, Minho and you reside at their apartment, eating chicken and watching a shitty romcom for background noise. The rest of his roommates are out celebrating the start of the football season. You have no idea why it started mid-way through November but okay.

“I said I would come; they were too sweet to say no to!” You exclaim, throwing your head back against the couch, regretting saying yes. 

“It was definitely Yeosang and Wooyoung?” Minho questions, not believing any part of my story.

“Yes! Yeosang has the birthmark next to his eye like Ji described and Wooyoung was the guy who works at that one café I used to go to all the time,”

“Well, I never knew Wooyoung worked at a café, that doesn't really match the hardcore scary image they are going for, are you sure you’re not going delusional?” Jisung admits, chuckling.

“What are you going to do?” Minho questions, passing you a drumstick. 

You take a big bite, before speaking, “I should just go, if I don't show up, they might murder me as you two say. Which is very unbelievable seeing how fucking cheerful they’ve all been.”

“Well, you’ve only met four, the rest are probably a nightmare,” Jisung says, his mouth full of chicken, Minho humming in agreement next to him.

“You two are supposed to be comforting me.” you groan, throwing your head into your hands. 

“Okay, don't worry __, if they have been as nice as you’ve been saying then just show up and if they aren't nice then call Chan and Changbin and I’m sure they will gladly sort them out for you.” Minho laughs.

 ----

Keeping your promise, you showed up at the café the next day. 

Opening the painted door, the bell rings notifying your entrance. Immediately you spot Wooyoung relaxing against the counter, scrolling through his phone, visibly bored. There are only a few people in the café, mostly reading books or typing on laptops. You see a flash of pink hair in the corner, yet you lose focus as quickly as you had it as you continue to walk further in.

“Welcome to Veranda Café,” Wooyoung says unbothered, still staring at his phone as you walk closer to where all the cakes were on display. Much to your dismay, you fail to see a raspberry muffin on display.

“I see you still don’t have any raspberry muffins.” You speak out in front of where Wooyoung is standing, making his head immediately snap up.

“__! I was starting to worry you weren't going to show up.” He exclaims, a contagious smile wide on his face. Immediately putting his phone in his pocket, giving his attention to you. He leans on the counter. Extremely happy you showed up.

“I never break my promises,” you grin at the black-haired man.

“Oh, one moment.” He speaks out excitedly, like a puppy, and turns to where he was sitting. Opening up a small fridge, he brings out the biggest, most beautiful raspberry muffin you have ever seen.

“Yeosang and I made this morning for you.” he gestures over to the corner, and you see the blonde male from yesterday, he is sitting next to someone, yet you can’t see them from where you’re standing. Yeosang shyly waves and you smile and wave back. Heart beating faster and cheeks warming up, you take the muffin happily. Wooyoung smiles brightly at you, feeling prideful at the way your eyes light up from the muffin.

“We stopped making these muffins because the owner didn’t think anyone was buying them, it made me upset because I knew you liked them,” Wooyoung says, making direct eye contact with you, making you weak at the knees. Wondering how he even remembered you, you still feel thankful he thought of you, even if it was a long time ago.

“It’s a shame but I'm sure there are lots of other tasty things here too. Anyways, thank you so much, you guys are the best.” you say, sincerity dripping in your words. Wooyoung just shrugs like he doesn't care, but the big smile on his face and the redness dusting his ears tells a different story.

“How much do I owe you?” you ask, getting out your purse.

Swiftly, Wooyoung grabs your hand halting its actions, “it’s on us, for being so kind, Yeosang and one of our friends really needed those rescue drops.” He lowers his voice, “between us, their anxiety has been really bad recently, and the stuff works wonders. Plus, you were always my favourite customer anyways.” Wooyoung admits, smiling, his cheeks get a deeper colour of red. Your heart warms up once again, which is strange to you. You haven't felt this happiness in a very long time. Maybe things are starting to get better. Happily taking the muffin, you make your way to Yeosang who is reading a book.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” you inquire, repeating his words from yesterday, yet when your eyes meet the figure sitting next to him, they light up as you recognise him.

“I know you!” You exclaim, a little too loudly, causing people around you to glare in your direction. Feeling overwhelmed by the sudden attention, you quickly sit down in a shielded area, away from all the glares. 

“You two know each other?” Yeosang asks, intrigued by your sudden remark.

“It is you, right?” you ask just in case you’re mistaking him for another pink-haired male.

The tall male smiles widely, “Yeah, it’s me. I’m Mingi,” he turns to Yeosang, who is visibly confused, “we met briefly in a bar the other day,” 

Yeosang lets out an ‘ah’ in realisation, yet you fail to see the jealous look he points at the pink haired man as he turns back to his book. Reaching for a dessert fork placed in the middle of the table, Mingi quickly grabs it and hands it to you. Quietly thanking him, you start to cut your muffin into four pieces. You acknowledge a gaze on you, so you halt your movements and look up, noticing Yeosang and Mingi’s eyes on you. Suddenly feeling awfully small, you start to feel your heartbeat rise and your breath deepen, never really liking people watching you eat, the stares from the two make you anxious. Luckily, they seem to immediately notice your change in behaviour and start apologising.

“I’m sorry, we will look away. We were just wondering whether you were going to like the muffin,” Mingi explains, his voice stumbling over words.

“It’s okay! I’m sorry, I’ve always been kind of awkward when people watch me eat.” you confess, your cheeks heating up. The two males nod trying to remember this information for the future. Instantly, the two men completely look away and focus on their own things, not paying any attention to you. Their antics make you giggle slightly, and you look back down at your muffin. Slowly, you pick up a quarter and place it on Mingi’s empty plate in front of him. You then do the same for Yeosang. They both look up at you with wide eyes.

“This is your favourite, we can't take it,” Yeosang says hurriedly, trying to put the cake back on your plate. 

“Stop, stop! I want to. I want to share it with my friends!” You blurt out before you can control your mouth. The wide eyes on both Yeosang and Mingi, make you realise what you said. You have to remember that even though they seem normal they are very clearly part of a group who apparently can kill people with their stare. What the hell are you doing? Of course, they aren’t your friends, you met them both once for less than ten minutes.

“Wait, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to say that I didn't intend to push your boundaries, we have only met like twice I didn't just assume we are friends!” You start to ramble, scared they will take it the wrong way, trying to fix your words as quickly as possible so you don’t get on their bad sides.

Before you can say anything more, Yeosang cuts you off by taking a bite of the muffin, “it tastes amazing! Thank you,”

“Woo!” Mingi’s voice calls out, ignoring the angry glares of people around him, “come get some cake!” Watching Wooyoung jump over the counter towards the three of you, you smile to yourself, glad you haven't done something that would cause future problems. Yeosang feeds Wooyoung the cake and makes an over-exaggerated reaction, “the flavours are melting on my tongue!” he exclaims in a funny voice, making Yeosang and Mingi cringe but you just laugh at his amusing antics. You can’t help but imagine how the whole group is when they are together. 

For the remainder of the hour, you are just conversing with Wooyoung and Mingi, sometimes Yeosang if he wants to add to the conversation, but more focusing on his book, yet looking up intently whenever you speak. You are broken out of your conversation as you hear the bell of the entrance ring, notifying the entrance of new customers. Wooyoung groans and stands up from his chair next to you. It seems to be three girls from our school. You recognise one of them from your calculus class.

Then the next thing that happens confuses you more than any other thing that has happened. As Wooyoung reaches the counter to take their order, his demeanour changes almost immediately, you would've missed it if you had blinked. 

Mingi and Yeosang seem to notice your confusion but blatantly ignore it, their smiles quickly disappearing from their faces. The atmosphere turns from warm and friendly to cold and foreign.

“What do you want?” Wooyoung asks bluntly. You furrow your eyebrows, confused out of your mind as to where the sweet friendly Wooyoung disappeared to.

“You know you should be nicer to your customers, it would help with business,” one of the girls speaks out, looking smug as if she has immensely hurt the man’s feelings.

“You should probably focus on your studies rather than going to cafes, sitting with a random document open and pretending to study when we all know you are miserably failing all your classes.” Wooyoung says monotone, whilst scrolling through his phone, not even looking at the three girls who now have shocked and offended looks on their faces. Some curses are thrown before the girls end up storming out of the café without even beginning to look at the menu. As soon as the girls leave, Wooyoung returns to the table nonchalantly, acting as if nothing had happened. Opening your mouth to say something, it gets caught in your throat before you get the words out.

Are you going insane?

{feedback is always appreciated and i love hearing from all of you. remember you are loved.} 

part two is out now!!!

[helaelaemond]

TIPS FOR WRITING IN AN ENGLISH UNIVERSITY SETTING from someone who’s been through it!

This post is written with fanfic in mind, specifically about Michael Gavey as a Maths student at the University of Oxford.

University structure

At Oxford, you are there typically for three years. You’re not usually referred to as “first year”, “second year” or “third year/final year” as nouns, and are more likely to describe yourself as being “in my first year” etc. The only exception is your first few weeks at uni when you’re known as a fresher. Your first week in your first year is known as “freshers week”, and its lots of social activities around the uni and beyond.

OXFORD IS NOT A CAMPUS UNI. University housing and buildings are scattered around the city of Oxford, and so using terms like “on campus” are not applicable.

Term starts in early October, and most exams are wrapped up by June.

Housing

Oxford is one of four English universities that use the college system (the others being Cambridge - also called ‘The Other Place’ - Durham, and York) and for the sake of simplicity, you can think of this as a replacement term for ‘dorm’ (a term not typically used). You can find a list of all the colleges on the university’s website.

Within the college building, there are usually single rooms with en-suites, but some rooms have to share a communal bathroom.

University students do NOT have roommates - no one shares a bedroom. There are also some room types in a flat-like set up, with a cluster of a few rooms (2-8 typically) and a shared kitchen. This is less common at Oxford.

Students sometimes stay in university-provided accommodation for the duration of their studies, whilst some choose to live in private accommodation from their second year onwards. If they do this, they are still associated with their college, and by default their college does not change. Private accommodation usually means a regular house shared with a few other people - this is standard across all universities in the UK, not just Oxford.

Classes

Generally speaking, subjects that don’t require lab work have a pretty simple weekly structure of one lecture and one seminar per module. Lectures are observed silently, and seminars are for discussions. Even the boldest or more socially unaware individuals do not interrupt lectures (in my four years, I never ever experienced anyone interrupting or asking a question, and so if you’re going to write Michael doing that, be aware it is a huge taboo unless the lecturer has asked for participation). Students usually take 2-3 different modules per semester, and during the academic year, there are two semesters across three terms.

Reading week is a week of usually in late October/early November where there are no classes for a week and it is a time for self-study.

Most modules have at least one assignment (what Americans would call a term paper) due before the Christmas break in December, and then at least one exam after the break ends in January. Some modules on some courses have other assignments or contributors to grades (like group presentations) but this isn’t all that common. It is very rare for things like “extra credit” to be earned, if at all.

Unless reading a combined degree (like Politics and Economics), you only take one subject. There is nothing like a “major” and “minor”. When doing a combined degree, you take half your modules on one degree, and half your modules on the other, so it’s an even 50/50. You cannot choose any subject to do a combined degree for, and they are pre-set courses determined by the university. For example, you couldn’t do a combined degree of Maths and Geography just because you wanted to.

You don’t talk about what course you’re studying, you say what course you’re reading (which is why Michael says he’s ���reading Maths” not studying it).

University culture

Nightclubbing isn’t much of a thing in Oxford. If you want a uni with great nightlife you go to Birmingham, Nottingham, Sheffield, Newcastle, London - not Oxford or Cambridge. Instead, students are much more likely to spend time in one of the dozens of pubs in Oxford. College parties (I.e university accommodation parties) don’t tend to be much of a thing either unless they’re organised by the social events committees in those colleges.

Elitism is an enormous problem at Oxford. For example, in 2015, 45% of all freshers were from private schools, while only less than 7% of children in the UK are privately educated. Classism is an issue that is so unbelievably rampant in places like Oxford that I can’t even begin to explain. But like many forms of prejudice in the UK, it’s rarely overt. It comes in the forms of exclusion from social activities (think a working class student not being able to go on a ski trip with course mates), social rules only familiar to the rich being the order of the day (having the right type of suit for a formal dinner).

Oxford is a place where lifelong connections are made that spill into entertainment, business, and (most worryingly) politics, but best believe that if you’re not from the right background, those connections are not yours to make. In fact, the likelihood of you even know they’re going on in the shadows is high.

Obviously, classism and elitism are themes of Saltburn, but please don’t take them too seriously, as it’s crucial to remember that the writer/director grew up in these very private inner circles of elites. As such, her spin is wildly… wild. She’s an incredibly unreliable source for basing any kind of opinion about these issues on.

That’s all I can think of right now! I highly encourage other people who have been through English universities to add on with advice you think you would helpful to writers 😁🫶

And if you’ve got any specific questions, let me know and I’ll help if I can!

[bibibbon]

Hi, so about my besties au...thanks to many excellents metas, I will try to change some chapters bc I think the pussycats are problematics or something closer. Pixieboob was weird with Izu, while you could chuckle as "lol she is an old woman who thinks she is still young" is creepy how we do have a second time a female hero is being creepy with a teen

(in besties au she will not be a girl's girls and see Izumi as competition)

But here my question: what the pussycats were meant to teach the students?

I know Mr. Sexyman ruined the program but...what was the program? Bc send kids to the camp was a bad call even if Mr. SEXYMAN didn't want to recruit BK. (Shiga attacked UA and it was thanks to a miracle, Izu and AM that nothing worse happened...I could give credit to Aizawa but he should have died or face worse)

And then we can add further....what the pussycats do as heroes? Someone said unsure if is canon or not ...how they are rescue heroes (the split of heroes makes no sense to me bc heroes would all try to save and rescue others) and what is the difference?

What the pussycats can teach that requires everyone to go to a camp? UA is a big place that has fake cities.

Someone (thr0) gave the idea how the pussycats were being accommodated towards Kota as he is not happy about heroes...if it's true, it's commendable they aren't forcing him to go but ...well, why insist in calling them?

Yes in Japan, idols are a big thing.

MHA is set in japan

But aside that...what are the pussycats?

Also, to finish: remember that line when one of the pussycats said "we have an even number of students, someone will be alone" and Izu, ofc, is alone. (Not blaming them for this that's on A1 being shitty) But ...it strikes as odd as defeats the purpose of teaching and let the kids bond (if that was the idea)

Say in A1 has 41 students (I don't even know how many kids there and I don't care) and the pussycats were expecting just 40. Well, make 2 groups where group A has 20, group B has 21. Everyone is included.

Again, what the fuck they were supposed to learn?

Hi @mikeellee 👋

It's definitely a great idea to play around with your characterisation of the pussycats especially because there is so little to them and they could be used to further improve the world building of mha.

The pussycats being problematic could be a great plot point having them be another example of the deep flaws of hero society. The pussycats are a hero group but they are also entertainers. They are entertainers first and heroes second and in my opinion that's evident in the way they present themselves with costumes that seem to be for show and nor suitable for fighting.

However, that doesn't mean that the pussycats can't fight or don't have valuable quirks like Tomoko's quirk search which was so conventional and valuable that all for one had to get his hands on it. The pussycats must of also been powerful to have held a title and job as heroes for a good number of years but maybe this is might be based on their public relations then their actual hero work.

That's to say the pussycats are problematic whether that be one of the members acting weird towards the boys in 1A but reducing it all to a mere gag.

While I do understand that this just like midnight's behaviour is all apart of their hero image and and act its worse that heroes who are in the 18+ category or well near that category would still do and say things like this to minors.

You also have mandalay and her questionable guardianship of kota. It's nothing like the others but I don't think that mandalay gave kota the support he needed and if that it due to her job ad a hero that further emphasises the point of the tough conditions there is to being a hero and the toxic standards.

Ultimately, making the pussycats have problematic elements that are highlighted within their character is a great idea.

Moving on to your second enquiry the ua training camp arc was supposed to do exactly that train the hero students by having them figure out their own weaknesses and letting them figure out what they want to focus on. While there are skills where everyone can develop like agility and strength which have been tested and were tested the moment they arrived.

The other days were spent on quirk strength and each individual stretching themselves to develop a better stamina.

Now you might say but why were the wild wild pussycats the ones to help them with this? And all I have to say is that I think that they are the ones in charge of the forest and they were probably the most available heroes at the moment to take care of the students.

I still think that It would of been better if each individual student got to try and get work experience in a hero agency through the summer and those that couldn't would be able to attend the summer camp. However, that wouldn't work or help the plot so it's understandable that this route wasn't taken.

1A has 20 students and 1B has around the same number. The mha summer camp could of been great to show the classes bonding and having 1b maybe understand what 1A went through and that they aren't stuck up at all. I think even if izuku was left alone it would of been nice to pair him up with someone from 1B like yangi who thinks he is creepy and cool and we could have them interact or just have izuku bond with 1B. That's not meaning that he isn't bonding with 1A but we need more 1B content in my opinion.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Greg Owen at LGBTQ Nation:

A new law taking effect in Utah bans the use of the words “diversity, equity, and inclusion” (DEI) in university programming. It will close student Pride centers and programs devoted to Black, tribal, and women’s groups. The closures come in the wake of Utah’s H.B. 261, a bill that restricts Utah schools from incorporating any and all DEI initiatives in their institutions — as well as the mere mention of the words.

LGBTQ+ resource centers at the University of Utah, Southern Utah University, and Weber State will be shut down when House Bill 261 takes effect for the coming academic year. The Black Cultural Center, American Indian Resource Center, and Center for Equity and Student Belonging at the University have all been closed and will be integrated into a reconfigured Office of Student Affairs. It’s unclear if the University’s LGBT Resource Center will be similarly accommodated.  Under the new law’s “Equal Opportunity Initiatives,” student services must be available to all students and not provided to individuals based on “personal identity characteristics.” 

The closure of LGBTQ+ resource centers in the Beehive State's universities and programs focusing on minority groups as a result of Utah #HB261 is yet another consequence of the GOP's anti-DEI paranoia campaign.

[chigirisprincess]

Good Luck Babe! - Chapter 2: Your Best Laid Plans.

— Aizawa Shōta

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, fem!reader (she/her pronouns used to refer to reader), sfw, reader has anxiety, mentions of past situationships ;), reader has lore, plot building, teacher talk. ⊹ Run time. 4.0k ⊹ Note. This is mostly plot progression, next chapter will be make exciting! Enjoy :3

❝Unpacking isn't always easy, at least the U.A dorms were nice.❞

previous part || masterlist || next part

The U.A dormitories were infinitely nicer than your university accommodations. The realisation strikes you before you’ve made your way across the green expanse of the newly built quad. It bristles your feathers and adds yet another reason why privately funded academies were far from your wheelhouse of experience. The Miyagi University of Education was a fine school, it had a small number of students which meant one on one time with their professors, and was built in the late 19th century making the campus as picturesque as a university could be. Sure, the accommodations were a bit dated especially in comparison to a brand new, state of the art building, but you couldn’t complain. Your university years were enjoyable, you wouldn’t trade those memories for anything.

And, Sendai was a lovely city. Costal, filled with enough greenery to never make you miss the quaint rural town you were raised in. There were a plethora of museums and cultural sites that kept you busy and when your close friend worked as an apprentice curator, affordable year round passes were suddenly far more accessible.

Friend, almost boyfriend. Situationship. You chuckle to yourself with a shake of your head. Almost something, almost, nothing. It was maddening when you were stuck within the pit, uncertainty wearing at you. Now, it just seemed silly. 

The lines were still blurred on where exactly your relationship stood. Not that the semantics mattered much when you moved nearly four hours away to a new city, with new people, and a new job. You hadn’t seen him in two months, not since you moved into Musutafu for work and he refused to answer any text messages you’d sent. Not that you cared, that chapter of your life was firmly shut and left in the past– in Sendai– and he was still a close friend, at least that’s what you liked to believe, and would until he said otherwise. Not that he would say otherwise. Still, he was a good friend to have even if he didn’t see you as a friend, or was pissy that you never made a move to clearly define what you were. It’s not like he did either.

Almost, he was an almost. 

You had a lot of those in your history books. Paramours who weren’t quite lovers but you could hardly call them a friend. Always feeling too attached to simply name them as a friend. Women who’s friendship was so intense you couldn’t call it anything other than something akin to love. An almost something that you were scared to commit to. Your heart locked firmly behind the fortress of your rib cage when you wished it could be freely given.

You think that’s why you took this job.

Aside from the clear résumé booster this would be, the pay, and the perks, and the fact that you’d be stupid not to take the job, it was a far leap from your comfort zone. Sendai was the safe choice for university, it was only an hour train ride from your family’s home, a handful of upperclassmen had already been in attendance and offered to shepherd you into this new era. Most weekends were spent back at home until you made a few friends. Even those came with a caveat and a safety net. Mister situationship with the spiky blonde hair and glasses was your lab partner and subsequently became the gateway to the group of friends you'd made. You didn’t dare to branch out on your own, beyond them.

You took the easy way out. If asked you’d say that made you sensible. Your elementary school teachers would agree. They all thought you to be well beyond your years, an old soul trapped behind a pair of chubby cheeks. Never one to act out or step beyond your comfort zone. Your assignments were predictably perfect and drawn directly from your wheelhouse of interests. Your arguments were well polished and you possessed an arsenal of peer reviewed resources that you shuffled around based on your topic of choice.

As a child the adults in your life fussed over you, shirking their misplaced dreams on your frail shoulders. A little leader in your own right, keeping your stuffed animals and friends in line. They told you that you’d make a great teacher, your voice was gentle and your touch was always soft. That or a mother. As if it were the middle ages and that’s all you could amount to.

But, you were predictable. 

You stayed the course they mapped out for you. Too scared for anything bigger. The figs that branched out beyond you had long since rotted and died, taking with it, whatever other paths and aspirations you might’ve filled your life with. 

And, in some fruitless attempt to extend beyond their expectations, you left home and took this job. In most lights it still existed within the realm of your comfort zone but in some it pushed you.

You decided, your one saving grace of the day was that you packed lightly and still managed to scarcely fill out your apartment. Though it may not have been half as fancy as the U.A accommodations, you learned from your university dorm that you probably didn’t need as much as you thought you did. Clearing out your apartment took an hour and the commute back to U.A only about thirty minutes. Foot traffic was much lighter now that the morning rush had subsided. It helped that you’d spent the last two months living out of your suitcase. The apartment was temporary, a placeholder until you found something closer to the school. Though you stupidly never thought to consider that you’d be expected to reside on campus grounds.

Perhaps you were a child like Aizawa accused. Your brain gnawed on his words, playing them on loop until it accepted it as fact. Wearing boots too big for your feet, your naivety glaring. Obvious to everyone but you. 

It was an easy fix. Pessimism was your middle name, though, you preferred to call it realistic. You would wise up in no time. Gather your bearings, plant your roots, and never stumble over the shock of the unknown again. Prove to them, to you, to anyone else who thought to question you, that you were meant to be here. Then, maybe you wouldn’t feel so sick with insecurity even as you tossed your things into your new lodgings.

Shōta stands with his back pressed against the wall outside of class 1-A when Yamada pops out of the classroom. Kayama would be there soon for modern hero art history, Shōta decided then that he’d prefer to keep whatever schemes Nezu was cooking up to himself. He scoffs to himself as he replays the conversation he has with you.

Concerned.

The ministry of education was concerned? Now? Of course they were. Shōta wasn’t stupid, he saw the uptick of distrust growing between the general public and the ministry– it went hand in hand with the near constant criticism that floated across the gaggle of paparazzi that sat outside the school gates everyday. They questioned the ethics behind U.A as an institute, wrote think pieces and created conspiracy theories to work out every move they made as if to catch the school in some lie. It was as exhausting as it was hypocritical. Shōta laughed at the mere thought. The general public had no problem fawning over his class during the sports festival, marvelling at just how powerful they had to be to stand against the League of Villains all on their own.

But sure, now there was a problem. It was serious now that a student had been kidnapped.

Stuffing his hand into his pocket, Shōta grabs the small plastic bottle of eye drops he keeps handy. His eyes sting with irritation, if that was even possible. His unkempt bangs slide away from his forehead when he tilts his head back, widening his eyes for a few drops of temporary relief.

“Hey” Hizashi calls, popping his head out of the classroom door, “Who was that you were talking to? Your students sure had a lot of questions but I didn’t have many answers”

“Irrelevant,” Shōta snips.

“Hm?”

There’s a stack of workbooks tucked in the crook of his elbow, the covers worn and the colours faded. The class must have finished their latest grammar unit. He tilts his head down, his bright orange glasses slip down the slope of his nose to reveal his inquisitive yellow eyes. He peers at Shōta with interest.

“I said, she’s irrelevant,” he repeats, with a frown, “At least to you.”

Hizashi chortles, “Oh? So what, only you get a special little helper?” he quips, with a smile, “Iida said she introduced herself to the class and Nezu was with her, it seemed like she was supposed to be there.”

Shōta hums, pushing off from the wall and away from his classroom, “Seems to me you’re pretty well informed already, Mic.”

“Eh, not anymore than your students.”

His laughter bounces down the hall as he bounds after Shōta, only pausing to adjust the stack of workbooks under his arm.

“C’mon, Shōta, spill!” He says, throwing his free arm over his shoulder, “No one’s losing their job are they?”

The teasing lilt dies quickly, “Right?” Hizashi asks, concern drips from his tongue. Concern for Shōta. He’s getting sick of it.

“She’s from the ministry of ed,” Shōta huffs.

There’d been concern after Bakugō had been kidnapped. Selfish ones. Some worried their positions were up for debate, others wondered if alumni and sponsors would pull funding. Of course, there was always the concern for bad publicity. This entire school year was bad for publicity. Not that it mattered. Bored, nameless nobodies on internet forums always had something to criticise even when the academic year was perfect, when U.A graduates continually climbed the ranks, opened their own agencies, and continued to keep Japan safe. Whatever concern they had now was purely bureaucratic to save their own skin.

“Oh?” Hizashi raises an eyebrow.

They share a look, “Apparently they’ve begun to worry,” he explains, thinking back to what you said. How much did you believe in the lines you’d been fed? Did you create them?

No. You seemed earnest, young enough that your naïvity was genuine and you were likely just a piece for them to move about the board as they saw fit. You couldn’t be complicit in whatever cover up scheme Nezu had allowed into the building. Your flighty, nervous demeanour told him as much. He was worried he might burst into tears if his voice dared to sharpen any further. The way you wilted like a sad, delicate flower beneath the uncomfortable heat of the sun reminded him of a few past students. The ones he expelled for being too soft and too thoughtful. The ones who weren’t cut from the right cloth, they’d never be able to hack it as a hero without that reckless drive most had. 

You were like them but somehow even more fragile. Even with the tenacity and sheer stupidity you had.

“About?” Hizashi questions, his eyebrow quirking upward.

“Our teaching capabilities,” Shōta shrugs, jabbing his thumb into the up bottom once they reach the elevators.

Hizashi leans against the wall, hitching his leg upward, “What does that mean?” His scrunches up in annoyance, “It’s deceptively vague.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

The ride up the elevator is quiet. Hizashi keeps his lips pursed in a fine line while Shōta scowls in contemplative silence.

Concern?

If they were concerned they’d help implement mental health services for all students at U.A. He’s petitioned them relentlessly for years, they had the funding, Nezu was onboard but there was far too much red tape to navigate through and each thread led back to the ministry. Instead they wanted to throw you to the wolves. A peppy, fresh faced, anxiety riddled university graduate who had yet to experience much of the real world. You sparkled in the way most did before they got a taste of how monotonous their dream careers were. 

“I heard the minister of education is planning on campaigning for Prime Minister,” Hizashi comments, stepping toward the now open elevator doors.

Shōta clicks his tongue, “Hm, how convenient.”

“It could be worse.”

“How so?” He raises a brow to Hizashi.

“The hero commission and the ministry could be breathing down our necks,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I’m sure she’s harmless and her presence is merely a formality, a box to check to appease antsy civilians and overzealous journalists.”

“Right.”

Shōta gives Hizashi a tight, strained smile as the elevator door shuts between them.

A formality. 

That’s what you were. He didn’t often feel uneasy, but none of this sat right with him. His stomach churned at the thought of you. The same looming feeling of dread sat like a pit in his stomach most days when he stared directly into the bright eyed, determined faces of his students. You held the same look, though it was shrouded with an obvious nervousness that you couldn’t shake. Still, your dreams had yet to be jaded by the cruelties of this world, much like his students. It made him uneasy. They at least understood the gravity of their reality, he wasn’t sure you did.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Shōta sighed to himself.

He was growing soft in his age. That’s why he didn’t fight you. It had to be why.

Sauntering down the hall to his office, Shōta wonders if he made the right decision.

Aizawa finds an hour after the final bell has rung. The sun has dipped low in the afternoon sky, painting your lodgings a warm, comforting yellow. The walls are bare and the decor is sparse. Only a few polaroid pictures, a calendar and your two degrees occupy the space. It feels oddly big, too big for just you but there’s nothing else to cram in the nooks and crannies to make your new home a little less lonesome.

It’s a relief to see Aizawa’s tired face on the other side of your door. He’d offer you a reprieve from the anxious thoughts that relentlessly ping pong around your skull.

“Hi!” You chirp, opening up the door, offering him a nervous smile, “Did you want to come in?”

He hoarsely grumbles out something resembling a, “Yes”, pushing past you before you’ve fully moved out of the way. His eyes scan his surroundings, you suppose he’s taking in the little decorations you’ve set about the place but you struggle to follow his gaze from where it’s hidden beneath his fringe. You suppose it’s a learned trait. After a bit of googling, you found that his quirk was aptly named erasure and  manifested through his eyes. 

Aizawa settles on your sofa, his legs spread as he rests his elbows on his thighs.

“Did you uhm, want something to drink?”

All you had was a nearly empty tin of instant coffee and a box of tea that expired two years ago. You hoped he’d say no, so you didn’t have to go through the mortifying ordeal of scrounging something you. Your parents raised you to be hospitable when you opened your home to guests. So, you couldn’t help but ask.

He dismisses you with a wave of his hand, “Thank you but, I’m fine,” he says, resting his chin on his interlocked fingers.

“Okay!”

Scratching the back of your head, you flounder around the living space. The armchair was piled high with your winter coats and the only other space to sit was next to him. 

“I don’t bite,” he mutters, peering up at you.

You shift nervously from foot to foot, reminding yourself that he’s a pro hero– despite his tired disposition. He was likely trained to read body language. It wasn’t that you were easy to read but that he read others easily. There was no need to feel nervous, he wasn’t doing it purposely and you probably weren’t giving anything away. Shuffling closer to the sofa, you sit as close to the arm as you could without making your discomfort obvious.

“You’ve settled in?”

Nodding you nervously bite your lip, “I pack light so it wasn’t much work.”

Aizawa hums. His arm brushes against yours. You can feel how his chest rumbles as he speaks.

“Good,” he says, pausing for a moment, “Then, I trust you have the time to elaborate on why you’re here?”

A small sound of agreement passes your raw, bitten lips, “I sure can!” You smile, hoping the pep in your voice disguises the panic, “Uhm, well the ministry of education was worried that the repeated villain attacks and lack of consistent curriculum was negatively impacting their development.”

 You wrack your brain trying to remember what exactly their email outlined but all that comes up is the excitement you felt. The picture in your mind is hazy, the details sparse but you remember most of the key points they had. They’d stuck out to you and seemed reasonable enough once you started digging into the files they sent you.

“I think it’s fairly obvious that being the target of villain attacks would have adverse effects,” you state as if he didn’t see that for himself, “However in addition to the unique mode of learning employed by each teacher here, there has been concern that the lack of consistency is what’s causing their markedly low grades.”

Aizawa scoffs, staring at you in disbelief, “Their grades are fine, I would know.”

“Their grades are still above average; however, compared to their entrance exam marks and results from the previous year's standardised tests, the class's average has dropped by 5%,” you explain, pressing a finger to the tip of your chin, “I have the data sheets, I can show them to you if you want.”

Initially you hadn’t been concerned when looking over their most recent examination marks. They had done exceptionally well with material that far surpassed the curriculum expectations set in the prefecture, however the decline was clear. You presumed the several areas in which they hadn’t done as well in, had been lessons interrupted by villain attacks. It wasn’t their fault, and if anything they were still on track but still, you couldn’t help but worry.

“If they're above the country's average, I don’t see the issue.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you sigh “Well there’s a clear pattern that indicates an issue that needs to be addressed,” a frustrated puff of air passes your lips, “These kids are meant to be above average, sure that’s why they’re here, however their emotional well being and emotional needs should also be met instead of being ignored because they’re so special!”

Clearing your throat, you sink deeper into your sofa’s cushion, cheeks warmed to the touch. Your voice had raised several octaves, progressively getting louder as you prattled. You’d always been passionate about mental health, but you didn’t know you were this passionate. Aizawa watches you, there's something in his eyes, you can’t name it. Not yet. You don’t know him well enough. He gestures for you to continue on with his hand.

 “It’s evidentially contributing to a class-wide decline,” you conclude, fiddling with your fingers, “It’s not your fault! I tried asking Principal Nezu about U.A’s guidance counsellor and mental health resources and apparently neither exist.”

He nods, seemingly knowing it all too well,“How do you propose we fix that then?”

“This isn’t something that’s cut and dry, I need to spend some time with your students, get to know them, and hear from them where they’re needing support.”

Aizawa laughs. He laughs at you, throwing his head back and letting out a full bellied laugh. You’re stunned to silence, blinking, half in disbelief and half in shock. His laugh was nice, rich even. Oddly befitting for a man like him, but still unexpected. At first glance you wouldn’t have expected from him. Though, you’re unsure what you had expected of Aizawa. He was nothing like the glamorous, larger than life pro heroes you grew up watching on television. Aizawa was far more relaxed, his dress casual, and seemed to proudly wear the dark circles that lined his tired eyes. It made him approachable, the lack of lustre and branding around the elusive Eraserhead. 

You liked that about him.

“Is something funny?” You asked with a quirk of your brow.

“It’s just rather amusing that you think any of them will ask for help,” he states, leaning back into the sofa, “Have you ever heard of a hero's pride?”

“Well, it’s a good thing they’re not heroes, they’re teenagers,” you hum, clasping your hands together.

“Try telling them that and see how well that goes.”

A joke, you think he was making a joke,“I’m well aware they think they’re more grown up than they actually are,” you felt the same at that age, you’re sure the responsibility of herodom only intensified it,“They kinda are compared to their middle school peers at the very least.”

Aizawa snorts, “Something like that,” he agrees with a shake of his head.

His gaze catches yours for a moment, it’s held for a few short seconds before you anxiously look away. Letting out a forced cough, you train your eyes on the television that sits across the room. 

“So I was thinking it would be a good idea if I could have a copy of your students' syllabus for each course they're taking?” You blurt, eager to continue the conversation forward.

“What?”

“The syllabus?” You repeat, “You know, the document that outlines their course expectations, assignments, and schedule for the semester?”

He scratches his chin, rubbing the stubble, “We don’t have those,” Aizawa says with a frown, “Is that standard practice?”

“Ah, mostly in University but many secondary schools are beginning to use them,” you explain, “It helps give students an idea of their semester beforehand.”

“It’s the beginning of the semester,” Aizawa comments, his lips pursed.

“That it is.”

Shrugging his shoulders, his eyes slide over to you, “We could make up a syllabus,” he suggests, “If you think that it’d be a worthwhile endeavour.”

“I think it is,” you sit a little straighter, a grin overtaking your lips, “Students seem to respond well when they feel prepared rather than blindsided, I can send you one of the research articles I’ve read!”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Giving your knee a pat, Aizawa offers you a strained smile.

You have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking if he was sure. Aizawa didn’t strike you as a man who did anything he wasn’t sure of. Your overly eager, zealous attitude could be a bit much. You didn’t want to come off any stronger than you already did. Whatever impression that you’d made to him likely wasn’t one you’d want to stick around for too long.

“Well, that sounds like a plan!”

“So, tomorrow you’ll observe my class,” he proposes, “We can regroup in the evening, if it should suit you?”

You find yourself nodding before he’s finished speaking, “Oh for sure!” You grin, clapping your hands on your thighs, “I can do that!”

Aizawa rises from your sofa with a small grunt, stretching out his spine before he turns to you, “I’ll see you then.”

Nodding in agreement, you watch as he walks out of your front door. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, flopping back onto the sofa as soon as the door clicks shut behind him. Tomorrow would be the big day then, the day you stepped into adulthood and kickstarted your career. Your stomach churned at the realisation. You’d spent the better part of two weeks preparing for this day, meticulously rehearsing what you’d say, how you’d say it, what you’d wear, and how you’d part your hair. 

You’d have to do it all again, tomorrow. This time, without any of your planning.

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

[bellysoupset]

burpy jonah at an important formal event who feels really nauseous and has to suffer through a bunch of unbearable small talk and shit but gets taken care of by leo when he gets home?

I got caught up with the bantering, so this might be long. Bonus Leo caretaker at the end!

---------

"Kill me now" Jonah said under his breath, while Wendy smiled brightly to the waiter, grabbing two different champagne flutes.

"And be without a date?" she whispered back, passing him a glass, "no way."

Jonah let out a minor snort, before shifting on his seat again. He had been really excited when they had bought the tickets to this medical congress, a month before.

Now, however, it had all changed. It was out of town and since students had a discount in accommodations, they had chosen to stay over the night between the two days of event, driving home on the second instead of making four unnecessary trips.

Jonah regretted everything. He regretted having lunch at the little cottage-turned-hotel where they had stayed at, he regretted RSVP to the closing night dinner, he regretted the overly fussy suit he had brought, he regretted the fact that they had closed their room tab when they left for the dinner, so he really had no choice but to endure the event until they were ready to leave and then drive home for two more hours-

"Hey," Wendy turned to look at him, "we can leave. You're clearly not feeling well..."

She was being nice, but Jonah knew the last thing she wanted to do was leave. An event like this only happened every two years and Wendy was vibrating out of her skin with every new researcher they met. It wasn't fair they both would have to leave just because he had overdone it during lunch.

"No," he shook his head, not bothering to try and force a smile, "go mingle, we can stay until the time we agreed."

"Are you sure-"

"Wendy get the hell out of my face," Jonah glared at her, only for his friend to roll her eyes fondly and get up, all smiley and unbothered.

He watched as she got tangled in a group of young interns from a different university, Wendy the social butterfly.

"Dr. Banks," a man sat on Wendy's now empty seat and Jonah turned to look at him, immediately regretting it as the turn made his formal pants squeeze his belly even more.

"It's Jonah Banks," he corrected, "I'm not a doctor yet..." a bubble went up his throat and he took a small sip of champagne to push it down, "and you are?"

"Dr. Denis Hopkins-" the old man offered a hand eagerly, "I read your paper on gender affirmative care."

Jonah's cheeks heated up. He was so used to being approached because of his surname, it was a nice surprise to have someone actually read anything he had written.

Except he didn't get to really enjoy the conversation. As Dr. Hopkins went on and on about his research group, Jon's stomach churned uneasily and he quickly was forced to stifle a burp every other word that he tried to speak.

Eventually it was to no avail. Swallowing the gas back down was making him nauseous and the champagne he was sipping to aid was certainly doing the opposite of what it should. Jonah shook his head, covering his lips with a fist, "I'm sorry- I'm sorry Dr. Hopkins, I'm afraid I have to leave early, but could- Can I get your email? I'd love to cont-" a burp pressed on the base of his throat and he swallowed it back down, feeling nausea flood his senses, "continue this conversation."

Something in the hasty manner he was moving was enough to cue the older man in, because he nodded, quickly grabbing his business card and handing it to Jon, who could barely say goodbye as he sprinted off.

He figured the abrupt ending was more polite than hurling all over the guy's shoes.

As he wiggled past the people, he paid no mind to where Wendy was. The car keys were with him, so Jonah all but marched to the parking lot, unlocking the car and immediately sitting down.

The parking lot was empty and he could hear the music coming from the conference building, laughter and chatter too. He unbuttoned his pants, letting out a sigh of relief when it stopped squeezing his stomach and leaned out of the passenger door, staring at the ground.

The leaning position pushed up a burp and this time Jonah didn't even bother trying to swallow it back down. He felt queasy enough that he knew if he didn't let it up he was going to revisiting his lunch very soon.

It tasted awful, smelled worse and Jonah recoiled, gagging against his hand as he leaned back and pushed down the zipper of his pants a bit more. It still felt like it was squeezing him.

He wanted to be home. He wanted Leo.

As if hearing him somehow, his phone buzzed and Jonah startled, the small jump causing hiccups to start. Big jostling hiccups that made his chest ache almost as much as the rotten burps.

There was a text, but not from Leo. It was Wendy.

Wen: where did u go??

He groaned and forced up another burp, trying to get a sliver of relief before typing back, "parking lot, not feeling well."

As soon as he hit sent, Jonah dropped the phone, vaguely hearing as it fell under his seat instead of the driver's seat as he had aimed, bracing against his knees as a thick belch slipped past his lips, bringing with it the taste of his lunch and a lot more spit than he could swallow.

He spat on the gravel and then repulsion ran through him, causing another heave and more spit to come up. Jonah hung awkwardly, legs spread apart and a small puddle of spit between his feet, his stomach still hurting and howling as gas swirled inside.

"Aw, Jon, what the hell..." Wendy's voice cut through his misery, "have you thrown up?"

"NoUUPE-" he burped the end of the word and groaned, rubbing his chest, "can we go home?"

"Of course," Wendy crouched down next to his knee, taking the car keys out of his hand, "do you need me to get a bag?"

"No," he shook his head, "I can handle, my stomach just really hurts."

"We'll be home soon," she promised, squeezing his thigh and getting up from the crouched down position. He felt awful for ruining her night. Jonah leaned back against the passenger seat, slamming the door closed and turned to look at his best friend as she entered the driver's side and immediately removed her strappy heels.

"I'm sorry Dee-"

"Oh don't stress about it, it was getting boring anyway," Wendy shrugged, throwing the heels on the backseat, "besides, half the fun was to be here with you. It's not fun if you're not enjoying yourself, Jon."

"I did yesterday," he pointed out, leaning forward and resting his forehead on the dashboard of the car, pressing on his bloated stomach, "and this morning."

"Then that's good enough," she shut the door and started the car, "what is this anyway? Food poisoning from lunch? I told you that puree looked sk-"

He gagged, burping towards his feet once more, "shut up, Wendy."

"Sorry," she said meekly, although he could hear a hint of amusement in her words, "tell me if you need me to pull over."

"Uhm," he grumbled, fingers digging on his stomach, "I'm just really bloated and crampy... Dr. Hopkins cornered me, did you see?"

"I did," Wendy's voice sparked up, eager to chat, "what did he want?"

"For me to work on his research project I-" Jonah groaned as a gurgle went up his throat, bringing with it more salty spit, "fuck I do need a bag."

"Shit, hold on, hold on-" he heard as she turned on the emergency stop alert and pulled over the car, pushing his door open.

"Okay, give me a second to find-"

Jonah interrupted her by retching, bringing up little more than a tiny stream of vomit and two big belches, that made his throat hurt. He squeezed the side of his stomach, pushing his fingers in and working over a painful spot, but his own belly rub was doing very little to help. In fact, Jon was pretty sure he was just making himself hurt more.

"Are you done?" Wendy asked, "I got you a bag."

"I don't think-" Jonah swallowed in, "it's just so much trapped gas making me nauseous, I'm not really sick-"

"Yeah, so you keep saying," Wendy rolled her eyes, pushing a big shopping bag in his hands, "Hang in there."

They spent the next two hours with Jonah hunched over, panting inside the bag, here and there bringing up a little dribble of vomit and spit, mostly just some empty, painful burps, punctuated by hiccups.

He was exhausted by the time Wendy entered his street. His stomach hurt like hell and his throat felt raw and irritated, his head pounding from all the empty heaving... And he felt dizzy from leaning forward in a moving car. In the past fifteen minutes his nausea had kicked up a notch, aided by the forced motion sickness of being folded in half, and Jonah was struggling to keep the food inside of him.

He really didn't want to throw up now, when they were so close to his house...

Wendy parked the car inside of the parking lot and turned to him, "Okay Jon, let me just put my heels back on-"

"No," he shook his head, "no, you don't have to stay. Leo's home."

"Are you sure?" Wendy squinted, "he could've gone back to the dorms, you didn't spend the night here ye-"

"No, he's home- He's always home now. He lives here," even sick and in pain, butterflies joined the mess in his belly. Wendy's eyebrows shot up and she slapped his chest.

"You prick, you never tell me anything!" she pushed his arm, "get out of my car."

Jonah chuckled, clutching the bag still as he pushed the door open, "we can talk about it tomorrow-"

"Get out, I'm not talking with you," Wendy had a childish pout on, but the annoyance was nonexistent in her voice, "go away."

"Bye Dee," Jonah snorted, "I'll text you tomorrow... And sorry again-"

"Bye, asshole," she gave him the tongue, squinting at him, "really, text me tomorrow."

"Will do," Jonah rubbed a hand over his face. He could feel there was a perpetual frown tattooed between his brows and although the nausea had eased a little bit now that he wasn't in a moving car anymore, the stomachache was still very present.

He ditched the bag inside a trashcan and then got into the elevator.

It was around eleven, so part of him didn't expect Leo to be up and Jonah let out a relieved sigh when he pushed the front door opened and met the living room lights still on.

"Who's there?!" Leo sounded terrified, his voice coming from the bedroom and Jonah muffled a chuckle.

"It's me-" he stopped himself short as his boyfriend came out of the room carrying the night lamp as a weapon, wearing just socks and Jon's own big sweater, "Leo, what the fuck-"

"Oh it's you," he lowered the lamp, clutching his chest with one hand, "why are you home? You said you'd only get here way later..."

Jonah shrugged, once again undoing his pants and ditching the blazer jacket on top of the couch, "wasn't feeling well."

"Oh..." Leo raised an eyebrow, putting the lamp on top of the coffee table as he joined Jon on the couch, "what's wrong? Do you have a fever? Did Wendy say-"

"No," Jonah shook his head, grabbing the front of Leo's sweater and forcing him to sit down on the couch, promptly leaning forward so he could melt against his boyfriend, "no, lunch messed with me. My stomach hurts."

"Aww, Jon," Leo sighed, but he sounded relieved, "did you throw up?"

"No- I mean yeah, a little, but it's not that, it's just-" he winced, taking Leo's hand and planting it on his stomach, "it's bloated and awful."

"Oh," Leo's cheeks burned, but he didn't pull back, instead moving on the couch so they could get more comfortable, Jonah's back pressing against his chest, "aw, babe, what the hell did you eat? It sounds upset," he sighed, fingers trailing the side of his boyfriend's belly.

"Some garbage," Jonah said sourly, "legit homemade cosine my ass."

Leo let out an amused giggle, planting a kiss on his temple, "don't you wanna get into bed and out of this tux?"

"Uhm, yeah, but-" Jonah turned his head, muffling a burp against Leo's arm, "hurts to move."

"Okay, in a little bit," Leo sighed, kissing the side of his head again, as his fingers pressed gently over Jonah's belly button, pushing up another airy burp, "how was the congress?"

"Nice..." his voice trailed off as Leo pressed his palm on his side, working on circles like Jon had attempted to do before, but in a much more successful fashion. He sat up straight, pressing a fist to his mouth to muffle a string of thick, wet belches.

"Your poor tummy," Leo cooed in a sympathetic manner, pulling him back against him, "hold on, let me-" he pressed on the opposite side, doing the same thing and Jonah couldn't even muffle the chest rattling burp that followed.

He gasped, clutching his chest, "fuck, Leo-"

"It's okay, let it up," Leo sounded unbothered, pressing the heel of his hand on either side of his belly, so they could meet at the middle, "hopefully it's just gas upsetting it."

"Uhm, hopefully," Jonah grumbled, although he wasn't so sure. His mouth still tasted awful from the little puking spell from earlier, "were you gonna hit an intruder with a lamp?"

"No," Leo squeaked, sounding offended and pressing a kiss on Jonah's shoulder, as he gently cupped his lower belly and pressed on it, "I was gonna throw the lamp at them to distract them and then body tackle the intruder."

"So-" Jonah burped towards his lap, coughing as some disgusting spit flooded his mouth. He swallowed it back down, "getting yourself killed was the plan."

Leo snorted, a chuckle rumbling inside his chest that Jon could feel perfectly with his back pressed to it, "I love the version of me that lives inside of your head and is 5'2 and harmless."

Jonah rolled his eyes, moving Leo's hand from his lower belly and back up, where the ache was bigger, "not 5'2..." he mumbled, wincing when his boyfriend's fingers dug in, "you're just not a viol-" he rushed to cup his mouth, as a thick belch turned wet at the end, "ew... you're just not violent, that's all."

"We played football together," Leo scoffed, "you've seen me tackle grown men," Leo brought up his free hand to Jonah's forehead, "you're all clammy, Jon."

"Yeah," he sighed, pushing Leo's hand deeper into his stomach, "just one more and we can go to bed... I- I can feel it-"

"Here?" Leo pushed his hand in, rubbing in circles. Jonah groaned as the pressure made him taste his lunch and he swallowed in air, trying to force up the big belch he could feel sitting in his gut, "here?"

As Leo's hand moved to the center of his belly, a huge belch came up along with a splash of vomit, too quickly for Jon to even swallow down. He coughed, gagging and burping again, forcing himself to open his eyes, "aw..." Jonah's voice was scratchy and fading from all the acid he had been burping, "fuck, Leo, your arm, I'm so-"

"Shut up," Leo snapped, slowly pulling back, "does your tummy feel better?"

"Ugh..." Jonah grimaced, letting out a small burp, "I think so... I think I just need to shower and take some medicine... Fuck, that was gross, I'm sorry."

Leo rolled his eyes, pushing them apart and offering his clean hand so Jonah could get up from the couch, "it's fine, it's my boyfriend's sweater, not mine."

[nothorses]

are you open to sharing the thesis/project results from the work you mentioned around parents telling or not telling their kids that they have [diagnosis] and wanting them to feel 'normal'? (not my area of primary research, just education background and lay person's interest!)

It's actually about the experiences of folks who's ADHD was undiagnosed in K-12! There isn't a ton of research into that specific issue for that age group, and minors in particular lack the ability to advocate for themselves, seek a diagnosis, and enforce accommodations the way college students (which are more heavily represented by research in this area) can. But the parent side specifically would be super interesting, too!! That sounds like amazing grounds for some qualitative research.

I've been thinking on my willingness to share it here, lol. I've been advised to get it published, which means I'd need it to be associated with my real-life identity, and I have really tried to keep that separate from my online identity thus far. We'll see!

[mariacallous]

Within days of Hamas’s massacre last month that left 1,400 people dead in Israel, a gas station near the southern city of Be’er Sheva was packed with Israeli soldiers. Convoys of beaten-up military jeeps were zigzagging in and out of the pump terminals, and the roadside cafe had stopped taking civilian orders, trying to reserve all available stock for troops preparing for the first ground invasion of the Gaza Strip in just under a decade. In the parking lot, Israelis manned a makeshift booth offering falafel to passing soldiers, playing patriotic songs. The gas station workers, meanwhile, leaned on stock pallets in a shaded corner—four Bedouins speaking to each other in broken Hebrew with thick Arab accents, staring out into a nation not quite their own on the brink of war. They must have been terrified of outing themselves as Arabs.

By the end of the 1948 Arab-Israeli War, there were roughly 156,000 Palestinians who found themselves within what became the official borders of the state of Israel. Almost overnight, they had morphed into citizens of Israel. As of 2020, they number almost 2 million (including East Jerusalem Palestinians who hold permanent resident status), comprising about 20 percent of Israel’s population. They had evaded exile, but their initial relations to the state were marred by resentment and confusion: Many had relatives settled in tent cities in neighboring Arab countries, and large swaths of their former agricultural lands had been expropriated. Almost two decades would pass until these Arab towns in Israel would be released from military rule.

Arab citizens began from a point of severe disadvantage. Much of the Palestinian population lived in farming communities with lower levels of literacy. On top of this, there were deep feelings of resentment associated with the establishment of Israel and the new necessity of navigating it in what then was the enemy tongue.

More than half a century later, these Arabs are intimately embedded in the fabric of Israeli life. All signs indicate that, over time, socioeconomic gaps have narrowed. Scarcely a single sector can function without Arab labor. Schooling and the domestic life of Arab Israelis are still largely conducted in Arabic, and members of this population tend to gain fluency in Hebrew only upon entering higher education. In academia, most material is taught in Hebrew, and then, in most professions, Arab Israelis invariably sit alongside Israeli Jews on a daily basis.

A degree of accommodation and understanding has formed, and as far as many Israelis are concerned, this is the gold standard of coexistence. Arabs, however, continue to face discrimination and hardship—along with their own internal divisions.

What am I? Too Israeli for the Palestinians and too Palestinian for the Israelis. Our identity is no identity, and we are born into confusion,” said Huda, an office worker who lives in the northern town of Kafr Yasif (she did not want her last name used because she is scared of reprisal).

Huda is a Christian Arab. Christians make up 1.9 percent of the Israeli population, while Muslims comprise 18 percent, and Druze, 1.6 percent.

This confused identity becomes more acute during times of war. “Unlike Israeli Jews, I hear the screams of Palestinians in my mother tongue and I understand them,” she said. “And yet, here, understanding them amounts to sympathizing with them.” (Interviews with Arab Israelis for this piece were conducted in Arabic and Hebrew, depending on the subject’s personal preference.)

Since the outbreak of the war, at least 110 Arab Israelis have been arrested for speech-related offenses, according to Adalah, the legal center for Arab minority rights in Israel. Separately, the group said 100 complaints have been filed against Arab Israeli students, 74 have been summoned for disciplinary hearings, and three students have been expelled.

Abed Samara, head of the Hasharon Hospital cardiac ICU in central Israel, was suspended from work for a Facebook post published roughly two years ago featuring a green flag with religious writing in Arabic and a dove symbolizing peace, along with a short text in Arabic that included the word “martyr.” The color green is traditionally associated with Islam. Samara said the flag was mistaken for the Hamas flag and the post was deeply misconstrued. “No one even bothered to consult me about any of this,” he said in an interview given to Hebrew-language media.

Dalal Abu Amneh, a popular singer and neuroscientist, was arrested and held in solitary confinement for two nights for posting a Palestinian flag with the caption, “There is no victor except for that of God.” These are just two examples of Arab Israelis who have had their reputations ruined after the events of early October—despite the fact that a recent poll showed at least 80 percent of Israel’s Arab population to be categorically against the massacre.

Fighting between Israelis and Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza does not usually trigger violence between Arabs and Jews in Israel. But it did the last time Israel and Hamas fought a war in May 2021. Among the attacks on Jewish Israelis, synagogues were torched and hundreds of homes were looted—many of them in and around mixed Arab-Jewish cities.

The incident shook Israel enough that its military a few months later staged an exercise simulating scenarios of “domestic unrest” for the first time since the Second Intifada. On Oct. 4, just three days before the massacre, an Israeli headline featured talks among police officials to loosen open-fire protocols. As of Oct. 26, that motion has been set forth for voting in the Knesset and comes as Israel is especially attuned to signs of sympathy for Hamas among Arab Israeli citizens.

“I woke up that Saturday, saw footage of the massacres, and my first thought was: We’re done for,” said Hamada Mahamid, a 30-year-old Hebrew teacher from the Arab Israeli city of Umm al-Fahm, the third-largest Arab Israeli city and part of a cluster of exclusively Muslim towns and cities bordering the Green Line. “It was clear to all of us that this is no joke: People are holed up in their homes, my friends have stopped going to work, and we are even reluctant to chat over the phone,” he said.

Similar sentiments were expressed by Arab Israeli politicians, who currently number 10 of 120 members of the Knesset. Even those who have generally assumed staunch positions against Israeli military operations in Palestinian territories, such as Ahmad Tibi, have urged their populations to keep a level head and avoid any actions that may risk their standing in Israel.

Hosni Sadeq, a restaurant owner from the Arab Israeli city of Tira, said he feels betrayed. Even during the quietest periods, a stabbing attempt on the other side of the country would leave his restaurant empty on the busiest day of the week—which tends to be Saturday, when Jews stream into the local marketplace for shopping and authentic Arab food. “Not only do I have to speak their language and never with a single mistake, but I have to forget my origins and never speak a word about their enemies,” he said.

For Huda, war exposes the wedge between the two peoples living on a single slice of land, which each side claims as its own. “We are not actually friends,” she said. “We exchange laughs at work, but when war breaks out, each rushes back into his own camp.”

Crime rates in Arab Israeli towns have skyrocketed in recent years. The Israeli police blame a lack of cooperation from Arab citizens for the inability to reverse the trend, but Arabs often cite a lack of initiative on the part of the authorities. “Just like in America, but a little different,” Mahamid said. “Here, no one cares when Arabs kill Arabs—if anything, it serves the state well.” Israeli politicians often refer to the danger of Arab violence seeping into Jewish communities— which Tibi called “condescending,” as it paints the Arab community as the “backyard” of Israel, where “anything can happen.”

Indeed, several months ago, Israeli Police Commissioner Kobi Shabtai was heard on a leaked voice recording shrugging off the endemic violence, in a conversation with right-wing extremist Itamar Ben-Gvir, Israel’s national security minister. “There is nothing that can be done,” Shabtai said, according to reports. “They kill each other. That is their nature. That is the mentality of the Arabs.”

Now, as the Knesset is being called to vote on loosening open-fire protocols, calls among Israeli Jews to establish armed community-watch squadrons, and Arab officers in the police force languishing at just above 5 percent, Arabs are convinced that the police will never truly be on their side. Many have begun rethinking plans for the future.

Mahamid, who plans to marry in a couple of months, is for the first time looking into immigration options.

“The last decade of quiet is dead and gone—everyone knows it, even though some deny it,” Mahamid told me, echoing the words of Israeli National Security Advisor Tzachi Hanegbi, who, referring to Hamas in a recent address, said that “all of the terms of the past are gone and have dissipated.” Hanegbi’s words apply as much to homeland security as to the Israeli social fabric, which many Arab Israelis believe has been irreparably damaged.

“I condemn the massacre. I retched at the sight of what Hamas did. And I condemn the ceaseless bombing of innocent Gazans. If the Israelis didn’t know in advance about the massacre, how would the 2 million Gazans have known?” Mahamid said. “But when this is all said and done, we are going to be left alone with them here on the interior.”

Survivors of the massacre tend to note two things in recalling the horrors of that fateful Saturday: the sound of gunfire and the sound of Arabic. Almost every reference to that day includes a reference to the Arabic language, which as of 2018 was downgraded from an “official language” of Israel to one of “special status.” This shift came in the nation-state law, a controversial measure from the political right that sought to reaffirm Israel’s role as the “national homeland of the Jewish people” and left Arabs wondering what exactly they have been working toward over the last several decades.

“Canada is looking good at the moment,” Mahamid told me. “I can’t speak a lick of English, but I’d now prefer to babble than take my chances in Arabic on the Israeli street.”

[readyforevolution]

Black History Facts!!!

#Happy90th

#NAACP

Born Myrlie Louise Beasley on March 17, 1933, in her maternal grandmother’s home in Vicksburg, Mississippi. She was the daughter of James Van Dyke Beasley, a delivery man, and Mildred Washington Beasley, who was 16 years old. Myrlie’s parents separated when she was just a year old; her mother left Vicksburg but decided that Myrlie was too young to travel with her. Since her maternal grandmother worked all day in service, with no time to raise a child, Myrlie was raised by her paternal grandmother, Annie McCain Beasley, and an aunt, Myrlie Beasley Polk. Both women were respected school teachers and they inspired her to follow in their footsteps. Myrlie attended the Magnolia school, took piano lessons, and performed songs, piano pieces or recited poetry at school, in church, and at local clubs.

Myrlie graduated from Magnolia High School (Bowman High School) in 1950. During her years in high school, Myrlie was also a member of the Chansonettes, a girls’ vocal group from Mount Heroden Baptist Church in Vicksburg. In 1950, Myrlie enrolled at Alcorn A&M College, one of the few colleges in the state that accepted African American students, as an education major intending to minor in music. Myrlie is also a member of Delta Sigma Theta sorority. On her first day of school Myrlie met and fell in love with Medgar Evers, a World War II veteran eight years her senior. The meeting changed her college plans, and the couple later married on Christmas Eve of 1951. They later moved to Mound Bayou, and had three children, Darrell Kenyatta, Reena Denise, and James Van Dyke. In Mound Bayou, Myrlie worked as a secretary at the Magnolia Mutual Life Insurance Company.

When Medgar Evers became the Mississippi field secretary for the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) in 1954, Myrlie worked alongside him. Myrlie became his secretary and together they organized voter registration drives and civil rights demonstrations. She assisted him as he struggled to end the practice of racial segregation in schools and other public facilities and as he campaigned for voting rights many African Americans were denied this right in the South. For more than a decade, the Everses fought for voting rights, equal access to public accommodations, the desegregation of the University of Mississippi, and for equal rights in general for Mississippi's African American population. As prominent civil rights leaders in Mississippi, the Everses became high-profile targets for pro-segregationist violence and terrorism.

In 1962, their home in Jackson, Mississippi, was firebombed in reaction to an organized boycott of downtown Jackson’s white merchants. The family had been threatened, and Evers targeted by the Ku Klux Klan.

In 1967, after Byron De La Beckwith's release in 1965, she moved with her children to Claremont, California, and emerged as a civil rights activist in her own right. She earned her Bachelor of Arts in sociology from Pomona College. She spoke on behalf of the NAACP and in 1967 she co-wrote For Us, the Living, which chronicled her late husband's life and work. She also made two unsuccessful bids for U.S. Congress. From 1968 to 1970, Evers was the director of planning at the center for Educational Opportunity for the Claremont Colleges.

From 1973 to 1975, Evers was the vice-president for advertising and publicity at the New York-based advertising firm, Seligman and Lapz. In 1975, she moved to Los Angeles to become the national director for community affairs for the Atlantic Richfield Company (ARCO). At ARCO she was responsible for developing and managing all the corporate programs. This included overseeing funding for community projects, outreach programs, public and private partnership programs and staff development. She helped secure money for many organizations such as the National Woman’s Educational Fund, and worked with a group that provided meals to the poor and homeless.

Myrlie Evers-Williams continued to explore ways to serve her community and to work with the NAACP. Los Angeles mayor Tom Bradley appointed her to the Board of Public Works as a commissioner in 1987. Evers-Williams was the first black woman to serve as a commissioner on the board, a position she held for 8 years. Evers-Williams also joined the board of the NAACP. By the mid-1990s, the prestigious organization was going through a difficult period marked by scandal and economic problems. Evers-Williams decided that the best way to help the organization was to run for chairperson of the board of directors. She won the position in 1995, just after her second husband’s death due to prostate cancer. As chairperson of the NAACP, Evers-Williams worked to restore the tarnished image of the organization. She also helped improve its financial status, raising enough funds to eliminate its debt. Evers-Williams received many honors for her work, including being named Woman of the Year by Ms. Magazine. With the organization financially stable, she decided to not seek re-election as chairperson in 1998. In that same year, she was awarded the NAACP's Spingarn Medal.

Sources:

Padgett, John. "MWP: Myrlie Evers-Williams". University of Mississippi. Retrieved October 20, 2011

Goldsworthy, Joan. "Gale - Free Resources - Black History - Biographies - Myrlie Evers-Williams". Gale. Retrieved November 22, 2011.

Myrlie Evers-Williams Biography - Facts, Birthday, Life Story - Biography.com". Famous Biographies & TV Shows - Biography.com. A&E Television Networks. Retrieved November 22, 2011.

Davis, Merlene. "Merlene Davis: Myrlie Evers-Williams doesn't want us to forget". Kentucky.com. Retrieved November 22, 2011.

Jessie Carney Smith; VNR Verlag für die Deutsche Wirtschaft (1996). Notable Black American Women: book II. p. 208.

University of Virginia (June 24, 2013). "Speakers and Guests Bios". virginia.edu. Archived from the original on June 2, 2013.

[gnwwkks2]

A Sweet Coincidence (Idol!Gunwook x F!Reader) 𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓸 + 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓼

Hi everyone! Ive always wanted to write a book on here since ive been on this site for years. I finally have enough motivation to write a story that I hope will satisfy some Gunwook stans on here as long as myself. Gunwook is literally the cutest cutie to ever be this cutieful, so I hope you enjoy. I have no clue how long this will run for, and I don't know how fast updates will be out, but I hope you'll be patient with me here. This is also a little thing to give myself some wook content on here. all punctuation errors and lowercase will mostly be intended, and there should be no triggering subjects unless I state otherwise in the notes before each chapter. I don't want to herm anybody, so if you cant read a chapter if it will make you feel bad, please don't, and I will try to accommodate, and possible even re-write if I have to. Now onto profiles!

------------------------------------------

-Park Gunwook

- member of kpop group ZB1

-loves his career and his members

- main love interest

- definition of 'big baby' 

--------------------------------

-Y/n L/n

 [Insert Yourself]

- an art student

-loves ZB1 and gunwook (self claimed biggest fan)

- draws as much as possible on her tablet

- she loves to draw pouty gunwook

--------------------------------

-Shen Ricky

- the matchmaker

- strawberry enthusiast

- literally the best hype boy 

- slowly becomes y/n's bestie

--------------------------------

- The Rest Of ZB1  

- they mostly have no clue whats happening

- supportive

- minor roles but could possibly have a big impact later

- will get chapters with just them sometimes

--------------------------------

I really hope that you guys will enjoy this, I should post the first chapter either today or tomorrow!

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Debra Soh

Published: Aug 17, 2023

In the debate on childhood transition, one of the largest points of contention has been whether a minor’s wishes should override parental opposition. And, indeed, whether parents have a right to be informed about the process at all.

On Monday, a federal appeals court ruled that a group of parents couldn’t challenge a Maryland school district’s policy regarding children who declare themselves to be transgender. The policy requires school employees to support a child’s preferred name, pronouns, and bathroom access and bars employees from disclosing these plans to parents without the child’s consent.

Gender ideology owes much of its success to the isolation of vulnerable children in every area of life. Children are currently being treated as though they have an equivalent mental capacity to adults, and this presumed ability to make sound choices autonomously should not be questioned.

These are not, however, benign decisions; in addition to potentially exacerbating gender confusion, failing to challenge a child’s beliefs about being transgender or "non-binary" can have implications for their future well-being in more ways than one. As my readers are likely already aware, a social transition isn’t without consequence and has been shown by research to be associated with medical transition.

As well, parents deserve to know if their child is being granted access to single-sex spaces that would otherwise be exclusively used by members of the opposite sex. For example, when it comes to bathrooms, locker rooms, and overnight accommodations on field trips, a girl using boys’ facilities will be placing herself at greater risk. I also think all parents at a school deserve to know if a male student is being allowed to use facilities designated for girls.

Keeping secrets from parents is a hallmark sign of predatory grooming. This isn’t to say that personnel abiding by these policies are doing so with the goal of sexually abusing children, but the process of excluding parents from important decision-making shouldn’t be promoted by our society as healthy or safe.

Last week, the New College of Florida announced it would be defunding its gender studies program. Spearheaded by trustee Christopher Rufo, a senior fellow at the Manhattan Institute, New College’s recent transformation should be emulated by every university and applauded by anyone in favor of truth and evidence. As our educational system continues to be overrun by gender zealotry, we should seek to excavate the rot at its root.

Dr. Debra Soh is a sex neuroscientist and the author of The End of Gender: Debunking the Myths About Sex and Identity in Our Society.

[ Via: https://archive.is/Rwsu4 ]

==

https://cass.independent-review.uk/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/Cass-Review-Interim-Report-Final-Web-Accessible.pdf#page=62

Social transition – this may not be thought of as an intervention or treatment, because it is not something that happens within health services. However, it is important to view it as an active intervention because it may have significant effects on the child or young person in terms of their psychological functioning. There are different views on the benefits versus the harms of early social transition. Whatever position one takes, it is important to acknowledge that it is not a neutral act, and better information is needed about outcomes.

I still think it's fascinating that the same children who are deemed mature enough to make irreversible medical decisions that will affect their fertility, sexuality, biological development, and make them life-long medical patients...

... are simultaneously not mature enough to agree to a cellphone plan.

[the-tired-tenor]

Ron DeSantis: American Fascist

Florida Governor Ron DeSantis has regularly starred in national headlines over the past few years thanks to a wave of conservative legislation, including the infamous “Don't Say Gay” bill and subsequent retaliation against Disney for speaking out against it. While this legislation has made him the hero of the far-right sect of the GOP, many on the other side of the political aisle have a different word for him: fascist.

Fascism is used to describe a totalitarian and discriminatory form of government - one which strictly controls what its citizens can say, do, or be, and backs those restrictions up with the threat of violence. In the Spring of 2003, Lawrence W. Britt published a list of 14 defining characteristics of fascism, which reads as follows:

1. Powerful and continuing expressions of nationalism

2. Disdain for the importance of human rights

3. Identification of enemies/scapegoats as a unifying cause

4. The supremacy of the military/avid militarism

5. Rampant sexism

6. A controlled mass media

7. Obsession with national security

8. Religion and ruling elite tied together

9. Power of corporations protected

10. Power of labor suppressed or eliminated

11. Disdain and suppression of intellectuals and the arts

12. Obsession with crime and punishment

13. Rampant cronyism and corruption

14. Fraudulent elections

Today, I will be examining each of these characteristics as they relate to the political activities of Ron DeSantis, and using what we find to determine whether he really is a fascist.

First, we have “powerful and continuing displays of nationalism.” DeSantis regularly makes displays of Christian nationalism, telling his supporters to “put on the full armor of God” to defeat his political allies, as well as white nationalism. For examples of the latter, look no further than his suppression of materials as they relate to racial diversity in our schools, as well as his law that prohibits teaching lessons that “may cause students to feel guilty” about their race, such as lessons about slavery, Jim Crow, and reconstruction.

Next, “disdain for the importance of human rights.” The evidence for this point is truly overwhelming; highlights include his flight of migrants to Martha's Vineyard, where he lied about their destination and accommodations to coerce vulnerable minorities onto a plane, the infamous “Don't Say Gay” bill, and his latest catchphrase, “Florida is where woke goes to die.”

“Identification of scapegoats for a unifying cause” is similarly easy to pick out; for years, DeSantis and his allies have slandered teachers, gay and queer parents, and most recently transgender individuals, using rhetoric against those groups as calls to action for his base. More specifically, they have recently claimed that LGBTQ teachers are “grooming” students to become gay or transgender, despite there being not a scrap of evidence to support this.

“Supremacy of the military” has always been a Republican ideal, with trillions on trillions of dollars in funding going to defense each year while critical infrastructure and the state education system crumbles.

“Sexism” is harder to identify, as most politicians know at this point that openly saying “men are better than women” is political suicide. With that in mind, it is worth noting that DeSantis has frequently expressed support for and belief in “traditional” gender roles, especially in conjunction with condemning transgender people. See also the recent passage of ever more restrictive abortion bans in the state

Next, “controlled mass media.” There's a single recent event which I will highlight here, which is the recent introduction of a bill which would require anyone who writes about DeSantis or his cabinet members to register with the state government. This is the most mask-off attempt I've seen thus far to control the media, and while I don't think it will stand, it's deeply concerning that anyone is even trying it. Recent sweeping bans on school reading material also falls into this category.

“Obsession with national security” is another point common to Republican legislators. The last few years have seen a growing obsession with keeping migrants and immigrants out of the country, including the recent Martha's Vineyard stunt by DeSantis himself.

DeSantis often invokes the Christian God, as do most of his contemporaries, when justifying legislation or rallying followers, so “Religion and ruling elite tied together” is another easy check off the list.

“Power of corporations protected” might seem like an easy miss for DeSantis after his recent scuffle with Disney, but looking at the companies that don't dare to criticize him tells a different story, which goes hand-in-hand with the next point, “power of labor suppressed or eliminated.” Florida is a right-to-work state, which already removes some power from workers, but DeSantis has taken aim at unions over the last few years. Most recently and publicly, teachers’ unions have been a target.

“Disdain for and suppression of intellectuals and the arts” is also represented by DeSantis’ attack on teachers unions (and teachers themselves), but we can also look at recent restrictions placed on state universities, not least of which is the wildly unpopular and blatant takeover of New College. He is also the force behind expanding education jobs to favor candidates from law enforcement and military backgrounds via the lowering of standards and offers of special bonuses to those candidates.

For “obsession with crime and punishment,” look no further than the criminalization of abortion, ballooning police budgets, and the removal of an elected state attourney in Tampa who said he would deprioritize the prosecution of misdemeanors.

This is also an example of “Rampant cronyism and corruption,” as this attourney was removed specifically because he spoke out against DeSantis - despite this being a clear violation of his 1st amendment rights. We can also see cronyism in the recent takeover of New College, in which several high-profile allies of DeSantis were appointed to take over the once-liberal college's leadership. Whistleblowers during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic were also persecuted by the state when they spoke out against DeSantis’ narrative that COVID was no big deal. We can also look to the recent hostile and unwelcome takeover o New College, where DeSantis installed political allies in positions of power at the college over loud and constant student and faculty objections.

Finally, we come to “fraudulent elections.” For this point, I would point readers to DeSantis’ blatant and unconstitutional gerrymandering leading up to the 2022 election - when lawmakers drew up a map that gave the GOP a modest advantage over state democrats, DeSantis threw it out and provided his own, which was so aggressively gerrymandered that he had to overrule his own party members, who balked at how aggressive - and likely unlawful - his map was in order to put it in place before the election. Additionally, see the recently introduced bill which would dissolve the Democratic Party in the state of Florida, effectively resulting in a single-party government with no competition.

Based on this examination of Governor DeSantis’ behaviors, as well as the overall behaviors of the party which he is a part of, I feel very comfortable saying: Ron DeSantis is a fascist. Specifically, he is a Christian Fascist who regularly justifies his decisions with religion, despite the intentions of our country’s founders to separate the church from political power. He is not the small-government defender of personal freedoms that he masquerades as, but an authoritarian bully who uses the levers of state power to enforce his bigotry, protect the power of his corporate donors, and force his religious views onto the citizens of his state.

Rather than use his power as a legislator to make improvements to the lives of the people he governs by doing things like fix infrastructure, fight inflation in the housing market, or protect vulnerable people from the whims of corporate interests, DeSantis is content to demonize vulnerable minorities in order to create infighting within the working class and distract from his immorality, hypocrisy, and blatant power grabs. Ron DeSantis is anti-liberty, anti-democracy, and anti-American, and should be removed from the levers of political power as soon as legally possible.

[msclaritea]

https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/the-document-that-reveals-the-remarkable-tactics-of-trans-lobbyists/?s=09

The document that reveals the remarkable tactics of trans lobbyists

2 December 2019, 12:00am

Agreat deal of the transgender debate is unexplained. One of the most mystifying aspects is the speed and success of a small number of small organisations in achieving major influence over public bodies, politicians and officials. How has a certain idea taken hold in so many places so swiftly?

People and organisations that at the start of this decade had no clear policy on or even knowledge of trans issues are now enthusiastically embracing non-binary gender identities and transition, offering gender-neutral toilets and other changes required to accommodate trans people and their interests. These changes have, among other things, surprised many people. They wonder how this happened, and why no one seems to have asked them what they think about it, or considered how those changes might affect them.

Some of the bodies that have embraced these changes with the greatest zeal are surprising: the police are not famous social liberals but many forces are now at the vanguard here, even to the point of checking our pronouns and harassing elderly ladies who say the wrong thing on Twitter.

How did we get here? I think we can discount the idea that this is a simple question of organisations following a changing society. Bluntly, society still doesn’t know very much about transgenderism. If you work in central London in certain sectors, live in a university town (or at a university) or have children attending a (probably middle-class) school, you might have some direct acquaintance. But my bet is that most people don’t know any trans people and don’t have developed views about how the law should evolve with regards to their status.

So the question again: how did organisations with small budgets and limited resources achieve such stunning success, not just in the UK but elsewhere?

Well, thanks to the legal website Roll On Friday, I have now seen a document that helps answer that question.

The document is the work of Dentons, which says it is the world’s biggest law firm; the Thomson Reuters Foundation, an arm of the old media giant that appears dedicated to identity politics of various sorts; and the International Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer and Intersex Youth & Student Organisation (IGLYO). Both Dentons and the Thomson Reuters Foundation note that the document does not necessarily reflect their views.

The report is called ‘Only adults? Good practices in legal gender recognition for youth’. Its purpose is to help trans groups in several countries bring about changes in the law to allow children to legally change their gender, without adult approval and without needing the approval of any authorities. ‘We hope this report will be a powerful tool for activists and NGOs working to advance the rights of trans youth across Europe and beyond,’ says the foreword.

As you’d expect of a report co-written by the staff of a major law firm, it’s a comprehensive and solid document, summarising law, policy and ‘advocacy’ across several countries. Based on the contributions of trans groups from around the world (including two in the UK, one of which is not named), it collects and shares ‘best practice’ in ‘lobbying’ to change the law so that parents no longer have a say on their child’s legal gender.

‘It is recognised that the requirement for parental consent or the consent of a legal guardian can be restrictive and problematic for minors.’

You might think that the very purpose of parenting is, in part, to ‘restrict’ the choices of children who cannot, by definition, make fully-informed adult choices on their own. But that is not the stance of the report.

Indeed, it suggests that ‘states should take action against parents who are obstructing the free development of a young trans person’s identity in refusing to give parental authorisation when required.’

In short, this is a handbook for lobbying groups that want to remove parental consent over significant aspects of children’s lives. A handbook written by an international law firm and backed by one of the world’s biggest charitable foundations.

And how do the authors suggest that legal change be accomplished?

I think the advice is worth quoting at length, because this is the first time I’ve actually seen this put down in writing in a public forum. And because I think anyone with any interest in how policy is made and how politics works should pay attention.

Here’s a broad observation from the report about the best way to enact a pro-trans agenda:

‘While cultural and political factors play a key role in the approach to be taken, there are certain techniques that emerge as being effective in progressing trans rights in the “good practice” countries.’

Among those techniques: ‘Get ahead of the Government agenda.’

What does that mean? Here it is in more detail:

‘In many of the NGO advocacy campaigns that we studied, there were clear benefits where NGOs managed to get ahead of the government and publish progressive legislative proposal before the government had time to develop their own. NGOs need to intervene early in the legislative process and ideally before it has even started. This will give them far greater ability to shape the government agenda and the ultimate proposal than if they intervene after the government has already started to develop its own proposals.’

That will sound familiar to anyone who knows how a Commons select committee report in 2016, which adopted several positions from trans groups, was followed in 2017 by a UK government plan to adopt self-identification of legal gender. To a lot of people, that proposal, which emerged from Whitehall looking quite well-developed, came out of the blue.

Anyway, here’s another tip from the document: ‘Tie your campaign to more popular reform.’

For example:

‘In Ireland, Denmark and Norway, changes to the law on legal gender recognition were put through at the same time as other more popular reforms such as marriage equality legislation. This provided a veil of protection, particularly in Ireland, where marriage equality was strongly supported, but gender identity remained a more difficult issue to win public support for.’

I’ve added my bold there, because I think those are very telling phrases indeed. This is an issue that is ‘difficult to win public support for’ and best hidden behind the ‘veil of protection’ provided by a popular issue such as gay rights. Again, anyone who has even glanced at the UK transgender debate will recognise this description.

Another recommendation is even more revealing: ‘Avoid excessive press coverage and exposure.’

According to the report, the countries that have moved most quickly to advance trans rights and remove parental consent have been those where the groups lobbying for those changes have succeeded in stopping the wider public learning about their proposals. Conversely, in places like Britain, the more ‘exposure’ this agenda has had, the less successful the lobbying has been:

‘Another technique which has been used to great effect is the limitation of press coverage and exposure. In certain countries, like the UK, information on legal gender recognition reforms has been misinterpreted in the mainstream media, and opposition has arisen as a result. ….Against this background, many believe that public campaigning has been detrimental to progress, as much of the general public is not well informed about trans issues, and therefore misinterpretation can arise.

In Ireland, activists have directly lobbied individual politicians and tried to keep press coverage to a minimum in order to avoid this issue.’ (Emphasis added).

Although it offers extensive advice about the need to keep the trans-rights agenda out of the public’s gaze, the report has rather less to say about the possibility that advocates might just try doing what everyone else in politics does and make a persuasive argument for their cause. Actually convincing people that this stuff is a good idea doesn’t feature much in the report, which runs to 65 pages.

I’m not going to tell you what I think of the report, or the agenda it sets out. I’m not going to pass comment on it or its authors. I’m just going to try to summarise its nature and contents.

A major international law firm has helped write a lobbying manual for people who want to change the law to prevent parents having the final say about significant changes in the status of their own children. That manual advises those lobbying for that change to hide their plans behind a ‘veil’ and to make sure that neither the media nor the wider public know much about the changes affecting children that they are seeking to make. Because if the public find out about those changes, they might well object to them.

I started my first job as a researcher in the Commons in 1994. I’ve been studying and writing about politics and policy ever since. And in my experience of how changes in the law are brought about, the approach described in that report is simply not normal or usual. In a democracy, we are all free to argue for whatever policy or position we wish. But normally, anyone who wants to change the law accepts that to do so they need to win the support or, at least, the consent of the people whose authority ultimately gives the law its force. The approach outlined, in detail, in the Dentons report amounts to a very different way of lobbying to get the laws and policies you want. Even more notably, it suggests that in several countries people have been quite successful in lobbying behind a ‘veil’ and in a way that deliberately avoids the attention of the public. That, I think, should interest anyone who cares about how politics and policy are conducted, whether or not they care about the transgender issue.

I’m going to conclude with an observation I’ve made here before, but which I think bears repeating in the context of that report and the things it might tell people about other aspects of the trans issue: no policy made in the shadows can survive in sunlight.

This was always about access to kids.

[university-dayz]

what I wish I knew about university : ONE

having completed the foundation year of my degree (and going onto my first year) I am now able to look back on the numerous minor inconveniences (although they didn't feel minor at the time ) and see how I could have avoided them. My aim with this is to help university students feel less alone if they were to encounter similar problems and to help people see that, more often than not, those inconveniences aren't as devastating as they feel in the moment

1) if you miss the deadline for applying for student finance its not the end of the world

Over the summer most of my time was spent visiting a member of my family who was in "end-of-life care" which ultimately led to a family bereavement. I was my family's main source of consolation as I was able to detach myself from the individual (it sounds bad I know but I wasn't exactly treated well by him) so applying for funding was not at the top of my list of priority's as I was more focused on ensuring that my family would be ok. in addition to this I had other extracurricular activities that required my attention, and presence. With all of this going on I just forgot about it

My initial feeling was panic. I had put so much effort in the previous weeks to join accommodation and class group chats and talk to people who would be in my flat and class and, when I realised id missed the deadline, I thought that I had wasted my time as I thought that I wouldn't be able to move into accommodation or start class. Luckily enough, that doesn't seem to be the case. After looking online I've found out that I could still apply for funding (although this is at the beginning of august I can't say for certain if you'll still be able to if you do it after August) but there would just be a small gap between starting university and getting the first payment

if you find yourself in a similar situation to this, my advice is to get in touch with the finance and accommodation team and explain what has happened. at the university I go to there is a student support fund that can help students whilst they are waiting for there first payment