#unofficial social services

[thoughtlessarse]

Schools and health services forced to offer crisis help in the form of food, clothing, money and advice Britain’s schools and primary health services are “staggering” under the pressure of demand caused by an epidemic of extreme poverty, as desperate families unable to afford food, clothing or heating increasingly turn to them for crisis help. Teachers and GPs in England, Scotland and Wales are informally acting as emergency food providers, welfare advisers, housing officers and social workers alongside their day jobs, as they devote more and more time and resources to support struggling parents and children, new research has found. Staff routinely helped parents solve housing, visa and benefits problems, and provided them with food, clothes, and shower and washing machine facilities. They have also handed out cash for energy meters, toys and books, the Joseph Rowntree Foundation (JRF) study revealed. “You feed them [pupils], you clothe them, you tell them [parents] where to go if they’re homeless. It’s literally everything. It’s not even about teaching or learning, It’s about keeping them fed, keeping a roof over their head,” a deputy head from a Bristol school told researchers. Poverty campaigners have warned that the two main parties’ election manifesto promises to improve the NHS and schools would ring hollow unless they were prepared to also urgently tackle rising poverty if elected. Katie Schmuecker, the JRF’s principal policy adviser, said: “No plan for our schools or NHS should be taken seriously if it doesn’t include tackling hardship. Primary schools and GP services are staggering under the weight of hardship – it shouldn’t fall to them to ensure families are not going hungry.” The latest official figures show 4.3 million UK children – about one in three – were in relative poverty in 2022-23. More than 1 million youngsters experienced destitution – extreme material hardship – while charity food banks gave out record numbers of emergency food parcels last year.

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Since tax cuts and austerity seem to be the policy in both the Tory and Tory-lite parties, things are only going to get worse.

[mariocki]

Play for Today: The Rank and File (BBC, 1971)

"I mean, the cry of a kiddie, the hungry kiddie, that means much more to me than all the laws and all the prisons in creation. I go along with Trotsky, that life is beautiful; that the future generation cleanses of all the oppression, violence and evil and - and enjoy it to the full."

[mariacallous]

A lawsuit filed Wednesday against Meta argues that US law requires the company to let people use unofficial add-ons to gain more control over their social feeds.

It’s the latest in a series of disputes in which the company has tussled with researchers and developers over tools that give users extra privacy options or that collect research data. It could clear the way for researchers to release add-ons that aid research into how the algorithms on social platforms affect their users, and it could give people more control over the algorithms that shape their lives.

The suit was filed by the Knight First Amendment Institute at Columbia University on behalf of researcher Ethan Zuckerman, an associate professor at the University of Massachusetts—Amherst. It attempts to take a federal law that has generally shielded social networks and use it as a tool forcing transparency.

Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act is best known for allowing social media companies to evade legal liability for content on their platforms. Zuckerman’s suit argues that one of its subsections gives users the right to control how they access the internet, and the tools they use to do so.

“Section 230 (c) (2) (b) is quite explicit about libraries, parents, and others having the ability to control obscene or other unwanted content on the internet,” says Zuckerman. “I actually think that anticipates having control over a social network like Facebook, having this ability to sort of say, ‘We want to be able to opt out of the algorithm.’”

Zuckerman’s suit is aimed at preventing Facebook from blocking a new browser extension for Facebook that he is working on called Unfollow Everything 2.0. It would allow users to easily “unfollow” friends, groups, and pages on the service, meaning that updates from them no longer appear in the user’s newsfeed.

Zuckerman says that this would provide users the power to tune or effectively disable Facebook’s engagement-driven feed. Users can technically do this without the tool, but only by unfollowing each friend, group, and page individually.

There’s good reason to think Meta might make changes to Facebook to block Zuckerman’s tool after it is released. He says he won’t launch it without a ruling on his suit. In 2020, the company argued that the browser Friendly, which had let users search and reorder their Facebook news feeds as well as block ads and trackers, violated its terms of service and the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act. In 2021, Meta permanently banned Louis Barclay, a British developer who had created a tool called Unfollow Everything, which Zuckerman’s add-on is named after.

“I still remember the feeling of unfollowing everything for the first time. It was near-miraculous. I had lost nothing, since I could still see my favorite friends and groups by going to them directly,” Barclay wrote for Slate at the time. “But I had gained a staggering amount of control. I was no longer tempted to scroll down an infinite feed of content. The time I spent on Facebook decreased dramatically.”

The same year, Meta kicked off from its platform some New York University researchers who had created a tool that monitored the political ads people saw on Facebook. Zuckerman is adding a feature to Unfollow Everything 2.0 that allows people to donate data from their use of the tool to his research project. He hopes to use the data to investigate whether users of his add-on who cleanse their feeds end up, like Barclay, using Facebook less.

Sophia Cope, staff attorney at the Electronic Frontier Foundation, a digital rights group, says that the core parts of Section 230 related to platforms’ liability for content posted by users have been clarified through potentially thousands of cases. But few have specifically dealt with the part of the law Zuckerman’s suit seeks to leverage.

“There isn’t that much case law on that section of the law, so it will be interesting to see how a judge breaks it down,” says Cope. Zuckerman is a member of the EFF’s board of advisers.

John Morris, a principal at the Internet Society, a nonprofit that promotes open development of the internet, says that, to his knowledge, Zuckerman’s strategy “hasn’t been used before, in terms of using Section 230 to grant affirmative rights to users,” noting that a judge would likely take that claim seriously.

Meta has previously suggested that allowing add-ons that modify how people use its services raises security and privacy concerns. But Daphne Keller, director of the Program on Platform Regulation at Stanford's Cyber Policy Center, says that Zuckerman’s tool may be able to fairly push back on such an accusation.“The main problem with tools that give users more control over content moderation on existing platforms often has to do with privacy,” she says. “But if all this does is unfollow specified accounts, I would not expect that problem to arise here."

Even if a tool like Unfollow Everything 2.0 didn’t compromise users’ privacy, Meta might still be able to argue that it violates the company’s terms of service, as it did in Barclay’s case.

“Given Meta’s history, I could see why he would want a preemptive judgment,” says Cope. “He’d be immunized against any civil claim brought against him by Meta.”

And though Zuckerman says he would not be surprised if it takes years for his case to wind its way through the courts, he believes it’s important. “This feels like a particularly compelling case to do at a moment where people are really concerned about the power of algorithms,” he says.

[sempersirens]

yes, chef | part four

one | two | three

masterlist

this is their song sorry i don't make the rules (yes i do) summary: eight years have passed since you walked out of joel miller's kitchen, now you have your own restaurant in new york city. you're a household name, respected within your own right - but some ghosts are harder to shake than others. pairing: no-outbreak!au, chef!joel x f!reader content/warnings (spoilers): no outbreak, no use of y/n, alcohol consumption, mention of food, pure angst, arguing, swearing, unspecified age gap, cheating if you squint, joel is a prick who can't regulate his emotions, character death.

Fuckin' useless.

You plan on fuckin' your way to the top there too?

You're useless.

Dawn hadn't quite broken yet.

The rattle of the subway shook you loose from the claws of that familiar memory; the one you had to fight during any moment of stillness.

Ladies swallowed by wool scarves and labourers with chins tucked into the necks of their coats littered the seats of the carriage.

You'd hoped the years would ease the drowning; that distance and time would singe away the nerve endings that pricked up at any hint of a Texan accent.

No such luck. The best you could do was filter out any articles including the words chef and Joel Miller on your social media and news apps.

Your apartment was a cosy one-bed in Williamsburg. Most nights you woke reaching for a phantom warmth that your fingers could never find; nails clawing at your fitted sheet in frustration when all you could grasp was cotton. You were grateful for the omnipresent city traffic that lulled you back to sleep.

The first year was the hardest.

He had become a ghost story, haunting you in each sip of coffee or raised voice in the street. You hated yourself for craving his temper; you would've killed to feel the heat pricking at your skin as he barked orders at you.

You missed the games you had played to stay his little secret. Swallowing his poison, letting it decay your self-worth, just so you could be his.

But it was never enough. You were never enough.

"This is an M-line service. The next station is Broadway-Lafayette."

Rising from your seat, you gently shook your head from side to side.

Enough, you thought, inhaling slowly as the doors parted.

Enough.

Only January in New York could rouse gratitude for the stuffy microclimate of the subway. You'd never get used to that first gust of winter air; the one that reddens the tips of your ears before you even have the chance to acclimatise to street level.

It was different here.

Temperature aside, your days were no longer spent walking on a raised edge, willing yourself to remain balanced. For too long, you'd laid blankets over thorn bushes and convinced yourself it was a good enough place to rest your head.

There was pressure; no kitchen worth its Himalayan salt could function without it. But at every blind corner hands were reaching out to steady you, and you them.

It was nice. You were happy - or content, at the very least.

And even if you weren't happy, you only ever had enough hours in the day to clamour your way through service. You hadn't dealt in anything as trivial as love - if you could even call it that - since you'd turned your back on Texas.

It was a short walk from the subway to the restaurant. The streets were mostly empty this early but rushing had become second nature since moving to the city.

A food critic from the New York Times was due to be dining sometime this week, but last night an "unofficial source" you'd fooled around with in college had texted you a heads-up to be on top form this afternoon.

You'd heeded the warning with a smirk; you were always on top form.

Morning beat on with the usual trepidation of pre-service; menus drafted and re-drafted until you were satisfied; table settings scrutinised under three different levels of lighting; reservations checked, then double-checked, for any notable guests. There was nothing left to perfect by the time you opened your doors for lunch.

Your kitchen was a sanctuary of praise and encouragement; only the best went out to the pass, but you did so without raising your voice at even the most tedious mistakes.

"Sauce has congealed, chef. You need to start again, please." You smiled tightly at your sous-chef who repeated your request with a nod.

Allergy notices and orders merged with the sizzling of fish on the griddle pan in a swift symphony. You bit back a smile at the chaos, content with submerging yourself in the music of the kitchen for the rest of your days.

"Chef, one of the guests would like to speak with you." Tom, your newest front-of-house hire, called from the pass.

"Me? Now?" You replied dumbfounded.

"Yeah, he's just had the prosciutto and spinach scallops. Kind of old, Southern, I think."

A familiar feeling pooled in your gut.

"Thanks, Tom. I'll go see what he wants." Untying your apron, you took a deep breath in.

All eyes were fixed on you. Sabrina, your sous-chef, took your apron from your damp palms and rested a hand between your shoulder blades. Sweat beaded at the base of your neck.

"Give him hell. Who even reads the New York Times, anyway?"

A few low hoots echoed around the kitchen as you pushed your shoulders back and made your way toward the dining room.

Your facade melted as soon as you saw him. It infuriated you that he hadn't changed a bit. Only, grey framed his face more prominently now.

Everything else was perfectly the same.

"Joel." You breathed, hovering over the empty chair opposite him.

His face relaxed - not quite into a smile, it was something you'd never been able to put your finger on.

That's what infuriated you about him the most, you thought, you could never quite get him underneath your thumb. He would never give you the privilege.

"New menu each day, huh? Sounds like something I'd do."

"Is that it?" You choked, fighting to keep your voice low and expression neutral. It was so easy for him to get a rise out of you, he didn't even need to try.

"You think I'd come all this way t'just tell you that?"

Before a retort could form around your tongue, you noticed the band on his left ring finger.

You could've been sick there and then.

His gaze met yours, realisation setting into the creases in his forehead.

"I have a kitchen to run. Congratulations, Joel." You managed to murmur before tripping into the still kitchen, hot tears burning in the corner of your eyes.

"So?" Sabrina pressed, evidently expecting what should've been a run-in with the critic.

"Wasn't him." Was the only explanation you could muster.

You excused yourself, leaving the slow mechanics of service to resume in your absence. Clutching your stomach, you pushed your way out into the bite of the afternoon chill.

Had he come all this way to flash that thing in your face? To show you how much better his life had turned out in your absence? Even after all these years, was he still punishing you for daring to love him?

You laughed aloud at nothing, breath forming in puffs of condensation before your face. Of course you'd loved him; you still did.

Eight years of keeping yourself busy enough to forget the smell of his chest, the pressure of his lips against your temple in the middle of the night.

You had searched for the giddy intoxication of his presence in everything you did; working yourself to the bone in some sick, futile desire to replicate the knots in your stomach only he could tie.

All the while he'd moved on and settled down with someone he didn't have to hide.

You were useless, after all.

For the remainder of the day, you'd done your best to subside the embarrassment burning through your bloodstream.

The New York Times critic had arrived shortly after you'd attempted some form of composure; Sabrina had stalled her by talking about the weather while you perfected your illusion of a sane, tempered woman in the reflection of a saucepan.

Compared to your encounter with Joel, the magazine meeting was a breeze. Joel Miller may have crushed your self-worth, but over your dead body would you let him ruin this too.

Once all surfaces were wiped down and stoves cooled off for the night, you finally pulled on your coat and made for the exit. It took a few polite declines to join the others at a bar nearby to celebrate surviving the review, but you finally managed to wriggle out of the social obligation.

You saw the staff off, encouraging them to have a drink for you, before finally locking up.

"S'dangerous walking home alone this time of night." You froze, your back to him still.

Using all willpower, you kept your movements steady and unfazed as you twisted the key in the lock.

Fuck, you silently cursed yourself. Don't cry. Don't give him the satisfaction.

"I'm not walking. I get the subway."

Joel leaned against the low wall opposite the restaurant, his hands idly resting in the pockets of his thick corduroy jacket.

"Your wife not wondering where you've gotten to?" You'd spoken before you could stop yourself.

He cleared his throat, breaking his gaze on you.

"She's back in Austin. M'here on business, she, uh - she couldn't travel with the little one."

"Jesus." You laughed in despair. There was nothing left inside of you now. All those nights spent trying to remember the feel of his chest beneath your head, he had been making a real life for himself.

"What do you want, Joel? You getting a kick out of seeing me like this?" There was no holding back the tears that flowed freely down your cheeks. He looked like he was debating moving closer to you, brows knitted together, shaking his head softly.

"Hey," he whispered lowly. "Don't waste any tears on me, baby."

You scoffed, crossing your arms across your chest and tipping your chin toward the night sky. Joel pushed himself from the wall, closing the distance between you both.

"I loved you."

"I was never good enough for you, sweetheart." Joel smiled sadly, his hand finding a stray piece of hair to tuck behind your ear.

A sob escaped your body as you let yourself lean into his touch.

"I thought the world of you."

"You had a much bigger world to find. Look at you."

"I wanted to find it with you. Why wasn't I enough?" You hated the words tainting the cold air around you. You'd never been the type to beg a man to love you, but eight years of repressed emotion and unanswered questions had finally broken free from your bones.

"You got it all wrong, baby. I'm an old man. You deserved more than to be reduced to some housewife. Could've never had the career you do now with me holding you back."

"Don't pretend you did this for me, Joel."

Suddenly, your heart broke for the woman he had left back in Austin. His wife, the mother of his child. Is that all he saw in her?

"There was a time that I thought you were wonderful. I would hang off your every word, seek your approval in everything I fucking did. And it broke me. The day you told me I was useless - I hear it in the back of my mind every fucking day."

He was shaking his head, muttering it ain't like that softly under his breath.

"Then you come all the way to New York, to my restaurant in the middle of service, acting like you're the reason I am where I am now?"

"I was in town, thought it was the right thing to do. I wanted to see you. I-"

"It's always what you want, Joel. The doting wife. The accolade. You're pathetic. I hope your wife comes to her senses and leaves you, and for the sake of your kid, I pray they grow up to be nothing like you."

Weeks passed in flashes of numbness since Joel's fleeting visit.

For the first time in years, you slept soundly through the night. When the other chefs invited you for drinks, you accepted.

Soon, you laughed and drank too much wine without the aftermath of soaking your pillow in tears.

In moments of stillness, your voice was the only one you could hear, and it was kind. You treated yourself as you treated those around you, taking the time to care for yourself again.

The New York Times published their article on the first week of February. You arrived at the kitchen just as dawn peaked over the skyline, only to be greeted by the entirety of the kitchen staff.

That morning, expensive French champagne flowed freely and the article, written by Helen Anderson, was framed and hung above the door to the kitchen. The headline read:

A New Precedent Is Set In Greenwich Village.

The day fluttered by in flurries of pride, each other ringing through the kitchen with a joyful urgency. Phones buzzed frantically from pockets, messages of congratulations you would pick up after service.

At around 12pm, the UPS delivery man arrived at the back of the kitchen, holding out a tablet for a signature for a bouquet of flowers resting against the doorway.

"Chef of the hour, these are for you!" Sabrina skipped through the kitchen, blue hydrangeas and gypsophila outstretched toward you.

You cradled the bouquet before setting them down in your cupboard of an office. A small, cream card poked out of the side of the arrangement. Messy handwriting scrawled across both inner sides of the folded card.

Sweetheart,

I'm sorry I never found the words to tell you how I feel. I'm a miserable old man who's smoked too many cigarettes and never known a good thing in front of me.

You never needed me, but I needed you. I'll never forget the first time you walked into my kitchen. I'm a coward, and I should've told you I loved you all those years ago.

I'm sorry for treating you the way I did. I know I'm in no position to ask any favours, but please don't make the mistakes I did. Hell, you're too intelligent to live as foolishly as I did, anyway.

Hope you don't mind, Helen is a friend of mine. Told me a couple of days ago how your place is the best she's eaten in New York since Bourdain. Wanted to make sure these arrived on time; God knows I never could've.

Yours,

Joel

You wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, desperately rummaging around in your pocket for your phone.

Amidst the excitement of the morning, you had entirely neglected the copious buzzing of messages and alerts. Unlocking your phone, your eyes glazed over the most recent notification on your home screen:

Time Magazine Michelin chef, Joel Miller, dies at Austin home aged 57.

[mt-oe]

Idol!Mizu AU where Mizu is in a girl group 🫡 she's known for being the "handsome" girl of the group but also her and reader having constant romantic tension with each other on stage

Fans speculating whether or not Mizu and Reader's interactions are just for fan service or more genuine

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dear!

I hope you're still there! I wanted to look for girl groups with a similar trope (or at least what fans make it out to be) to better visualize the idea. Though I think I made this more dramatic than the idea.

Honestly, I really have to thank you because your idea introduced me to C-Pop and it's been great so far! Thank you so much <3

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, short, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

note: Yes, I used oshi no ko for the pic, but I do not condone incest. That's fucking disgusting. It was the only idol manga I knew with the panel vibes I was aiming for ;;

It was 6:57pm at Tokyo Dome. The venue usually filled only by the brightest and most talented idols was now filled with fans clutching their light sticks and banners excitedly. Admins from both official and unofficial fan pages handed out fan made photo cards to anticipating hands as they sang along to the music video playing as they waited and practiced their chants.

Outside, those who got out-lucked by others during the ticket selling or just couldn't afford the tickets, waited, hoping for even a glimpse of their bias by some lucky chance. Some were even hoping that a scalper would come pass by, try not minding how overpriced it would be. Double, triple, or even quadruple the price. It didn't matter. Any price would be worth it just to watch the biggest and hottest idol group in the world.

The talk of the town—the world rather.

Four members recruited as trainees at the same time, each scout claiming that they were a once-in-a-lifetime find, now formed under one group. They were charming, addicting, and they knew how to get everyone hooked.

Akemi, the group leader and princess. Born and raised in Kyoto. Undeniably pretty, soft, alluring, yet at the same time, fierce, well-spoken, and confident. "I want to be great," she said during the interview. And indeed, great she is. Rumors had it that she was the daughter of a famous businessman, but due to the lack of evidence, the rumor stayed a rumor. Ise. She may be the oldest in the group, but her charms never faltered with age. Always the face in sexy and mature concepts. Brands aiming for a more elegant and stronger appeal would come rushing at every given chance. Faced a lot of backlash at the start of her trainee days for being scouted along the streets of Kabukicho. However, after a long struggle and proving her talents, the information was finally forgotten, drowned in the sea of praises. Mizu, the lady killer. Homegrown from Kohama. The talent manager almost put her in a boy group due to her androgynous-borderline-masculine look. Usually stoic and aloof. Everyone would kill for her to smile at them. She rarely posts on social media. Her managers have to beg her for a crumb of an update. Fortunately, the company somehow found a social media manager for her. Now fans await her gym pictures, drooling over her abs, and her livestreams where she basically just does the most normal things. Everyone eats it up though. You. Everyone considered you as the doll of the group. An all-rounder, handling singing, dancing, and the most active when it came to fan interactions. You definitely had the most fan meeting fan cams. Able to handle every concept equally, whether it be the typical cute idol concept or a more mature sexier concept. The face card never declines.

Anyone who didn't know them had to be living under a rock or something.

Several news reporters struggled amongst each other to get the latest news about the on-going concert. Some fans even got interviewed about their sentiments, ranting on live television about how excited they were. Traffic reports had to be monitored constantly with how large the traffic jam was.

Finally, the clock struck 7.

It was go time.

The lights dimmed and the general announcements were given. Though it wasn't like anyone cared. They were too busy scrambling back to their seats, making sure their light sticks were on the correct settings. Excitement rushed through them as they watched the back-up dancers get into position on stage.

Cheers erupted from the crowd as the music started. The stage filled with smoke and colorful lights, adding to the hyped up feeling. Fans stood up as they saw the silhouettes of their idols, screaming their lungs out.

"Tokyo! Did you miss us?" the familiar voice of Akemi could be heard as the platform was raised, causing a massive wave of screams and cheers from the crowd. You suppressed the urge to gasp as you finally got the opportunity to see how big of an audience your group had amassed. You knew your group was famous, but to see what Tokyo Dome looked like sold out?

It was like a dream.

A sea of lights glimmering in the dark, like stars littering the vastness of the sky. Each a different color to represent their bias, some blinking multiple colors to represent their equal love for each member. If you had to envision what a fantasy world would look like, it was definitely this.

Your eyes looked over the tarps hung over the railings, all welcoming your group back in Tokyo, expressing their love. Each banner causing your smile to brighten as you sang through the mic, a bounce in your step while you roamed through the stage, wanting to interact with everyone equally.

Enjoyment ran through your body as you performed. An intense want to bring your fans the same joy that they brought you motivated you to do your best. You could feel your heart swelling with affection for your fans. The blood in your veins running faster as the lights shone brighter and brighter but never outshining you.

What can you say? The stage was your playing field.

Everything was going great. The song was going well, no technical difficulties, and none of you were getting tired yet. Your skirt fluttering animatedly as you continued to roam around, waving and reaching your hand to those in the VIP standing area. As the song reached it's final chorus, you were about to stand up straight when your foot suddenly slipped, causing you to fall forward.

A gasp made it's way off of your lips as you closed your eyes. All your thoughts going blank as you waited for the pain to hit you. However, seconds passed and...nothing.

Oddly enough, it feels like the stage became a bit more quiet. Slowly, you opened your eyes, expecting to see the floor and a bit of blood. Instead, your eyes met the surprised—and maybe even swooning—eyes of your fans.

Confused, you looked back to see Mizu's hand gripping your arm tightly, preventing you from falling. A stern yet concerned expression on her face. She looked back at you, eyes narrowing as she pulled you up into her arms effortlessly. Her lips tugged into a small smile, hands wrapping around your waist as you giggled and gave her a nod to thank her silently. Ah, damn it. You could see the amount of Tiktok edits made later.

Fans squealed at the interaction, whispering and fawning over how romantic it was. The constant romantic tension between the two of you was no secret within the community. It started as a joke during the group debut with how many times the two of you interacted behind the scenes, but now everyone's wondering whether there was something more to it.

Song after song, your group performed tirelessly, starting with songs from the cute concept albums. Eyes were on you and Akemi mostly, having fit the concept the most. However, you couldn't help but feel a particular set of eyes on you, even when it wasn't your part yet.

You looked around, before your gaze landed on Mizu's, who immediately looked away. A small amused huff leaving you as you walked over to her, bumping her lightly with your hip, making her eyes widen slightly.

The lights soon dimmed as the group finally finished with the first half. The other members leaving the stage to give way for each other's solo songs.

Wiping the sweat off of your forehead, a cold sensation suddenly pressed against your shoulder, making you jump. It was Mizu. In her hand was a water bottle. She chuckled and handed it to you, amused at the residual rush you felt. "You're doing an awful lot, aren't you?" she chuckled, sitting down next to you, her pants already changed for her solo.

"Well it's Tokyo Dome after all," you sighed dreamily, taking a huge gulp of water before smiling sheepishly at your makeup artist who looked pissed at you for ruining the lipstick she just retouched. "Who knew we'd reach this far?"

Despite spending your trainee days together, the blue-eyed idol was still an enigma to you. Someone you felt a strange sense of longing and comfort, but at the same time, someone you couldn't quite grasp.

Mizu smiled fondly at you, patting your head. "I always knew you could do it," she mumbled, eyes studying your form. The amount of stamina you had for performing never ceased to amaze her. Unbeknownst to you, she shared the same sentiments. You were incredible to her.

"Hey! No touching the hair!" you huffed, swatting her hand off playfully. "And you're here with me too, aren't you?"

She raised an eyebrow and gave a small nod, smile never leaving her lips. "I am, but you.." her voice trailed off into a fond whisper as she stood up again. Cerulean eyes squinted as she laughed softly, her voice hinted with something else. Admiration? Attraction? Love? "I never doubted you. You're more of an idol than anyone in our group."

You were about to question her about it, a small tightening feeling in your chest. You knew about the fan allegations and you knew Mizu knew about it too, but sometimes she made you feel like they were true; that your fans had noticed something you didn't.

As you opened your mouth to ask, her wardrobe manager rushed into the room and immediately scolded her for wandering off when it was almost her solo. She flashed you a small smile and a little wave before her face rested back into her usual stoic expression.

A sigh left your lips as you stared at where she previously sat. 'I'm going crazy, aren't I? She's probably just doing this to make the act more believable..' you thought, standing up as well to talk over to your makeup artist.

Your heart hurt slightly at the thought. What will happen once all of this was over? When the audience no longer cared about the small smiles and touches she gave you? You wished you could stay here forever, to be by her side through the ups and downs of this idol life. Maybe even after, in a more peaceful one. But realistically...

Mizu would forget about you then, wouldn't she?

The inner turmoil boiled up in your chest, making you sigh. 'I need to stop. We're in the middle of a concert,' you thought to yourself. Your eyes traveled to the small TV they had set up backstage, watching as the love of your life you bandmate performed her song.

The twinkle in your eyes brightening as you watched her. Each lyric, each dance move, each fan service, making your heart clench with a strange sense of longing. "She's going all out, isn't she?" your makeup artist said softly, attaching the gems to your face. You quickly snapped out of your love-dazed trance and huffed. "A bit," you replied. "But she's not going to outdo me."

It was frustrating. How both of you tiptoed around your feelings but never taking a step forward.

No.

You couldn't take the step forward. A step forward meant the end of your career. Her career. You couldn't do that. Not when she was shining so brightly.

After a bit of preparation, it was finally your turn to be on stage, performing your solo. Undeniably, your performance was impeccable. Choreography practiced to perfection, each note hit, and every pose timed to give the most impact. However, despite how seemingly well you were performing, your thoughts were plagued by the uncertainty you felt.

After all this, it would be over anyway. When the lights of your idol career stops shining, so will her small reassuring gestures, so will the butterflies she gave you.

As the song transitioned to the next album, you were pulled out of your thoughts by a hand on your waist, giving you a small pat. Ocean eyes squinting as she smiled at you reassuringly. "Keep your mind on the stage," she whispered against your ear before turning her mic on.

She's right. You were getting distracted.

"Oh who do you think I am," you jokingly whispered back, covering your mic before joining Ise and Akemi walk around the stage. A chuckle escaped her lips as she watched you move, eyes filled with admiration unbeknownst to you. The interaction making her fans swoon as the romantic scene fueled their fantasies. She soon joined the rest as everyone did their best to give the performance Tokyo deserved.

Confetti flew around as the performance finally ended. You were now accepting gifts from your fans, catching stuffed toys thrown onto the stage. The turmoil in you continuing to brew, the stage really brought you a strange kind of happiness. Would you choose to stay here? Or would you take the dive forward into love?

Like a prince charming, here to save you from your thoughts, Mizu gave you a small pat. A hug hidden by the smoke covering the stage as the platform lowered. Oh why the hell were you thinking so much?

Maybe someday, the both of you would finally brave it out and confess. Maybe someday, the world will accept two idols falling in love. But today was just another job well done.

[lqvesoph]

the bosses daughter - LN4

summary: social media au where fans are speculating whether lando and zak brown's daughter are dating or not

Masterlist | Taglist

location: The Royal Golf Club

liked by: landonorris, lilymhe, carlossainz55 and 65.837 others

ynbrown: Screw university, I will become a professional golfer

comments:

landonorris: Uhm...

→ ynbrown: Heyyyy!!

fan: Yn going golfing with Lando???

→ carlossainz55: More like Yn going on a golf date with Lando

fan: LMAOOO CARLOS' COMMENT

fan: Are they actually dating?

→ fan: No, they're just joking around. Ever since she turned 18 people have been shipping her and Lando

lilymhe: I'll join next time

→ ynbrown: YES PLEASE, this way Lando won't think he's a pro just cause he's winning against me (but please bring Alex so I won't feel too bad)

→ landonorris: I can take you on, Lily

→ ynbrown: Uh-

→ lilymhe: I accept the challenge (and will do)

→ alexalbon: Name the time and date

fan: So Alex, Lily, Lando and Yn are going on a double date now huh?

load more comments...

tagged: landonorris

liked by: charlesleclerc, mclaren, landonorris and 76.462 others

ynbrown: Stop stealing my job

comments:

landonorris: Never

fan: Aww, that's cute

fan: Yn once again providing us with good content

→ ynbrown: I'm at your service

fan: Why are they at the track already?

→ fan: Pre season testing

fan: These pictures of Lando are adorable

fan: She's literally McLaren's unofficial photographer

→ fan: TRUE

load more comments...

ynbrown's instagram story

fan: Yn soft launching??

fan: Wait so they're dating??

fan: She's McLaren's photographer, so it also could be for the team

→ fan: Lando doing a shirtless workout somewhere on a beach in Bahrain? I don't think so

fan: They would be mad cute together tho

tagged: landonorris

liked by: isahernandez, mclaren, landonorris and 77.256 others

ynbrown: "Trust me, we won't be late"

comments:

mclaren: *proceed to be 30 minutes late*

→ ynbrown: Blame Lando

landonorris: You took ages in the bathroom!!

→ ynbrown: Did not

fan: Why were you late?

→ ynbrown: Lando's quite hard to get out of bed

fan: They arrived late TOGETHER???

→ fan: Jep...

fan: Wait so lemme sum this up: Yn tried getting Lando out of bed and he complains that she takes long in the bathroom and then they arrived late together

→ fan: That's about correct

→ fan: This just screams dating tbh

→ fan: Why else would they know these things then?

carlossainz55: You're not doing anything to try and hide it...

→ fan: Carlos knowsssss

load more comments...

tagged: landonorris, ynbrown

liked by: ynbrown, landonorris, isahernandez and 65.527 others

kymillman: LANDO AND YN

the McLaren boss' daughter and the driver arrived, just like yesterday, together. Yes, today they were on time.

Yn is not only Zak Brown's daughter. The 19 year old has a special passion for photography and snaps candids from the paddock, so fans have been calling her the unofficial McLaren photographer. Apart from that, she's currently studying at the University of Barcelona in Spain where she's been living with her mother most of her life.

comments:

ynbrown: Lando was late, it wasn't my fault

→ landonorris: Shut upppp

fan: She's so pretty omg

fan: Are they dating??

→ fan: No

→ fan: Not officially at least

fan: They would be hella cute together

fan: I'm jealous of her tbh

→ fan: She's got the best life

fan: I lowkey ship them

load more comments...

tagged: landonorris, ynbrown

liked by 56.729 people

landoupdates: Lando and Yn in the paddock before the race

comments:

fan: Her smile is so beautiful

→ fan: She is so beautiful

fan: What's that girl doing so close to my boyfriend??

→ fan: PLEASE LMAOOO

→ fan: You're embarrassing yourself, she's Zak's daughter

fan: Why they being so close suddenly?

→ fan: She probably wants the fame

→ fan: She's Zak's Brown daughter, I think she has the fame already lmaoo

load more comments...

tagged: ynbrown

liked by 32.726 people

ynbrown.daily: Yn in Bahrain taking a photo with a fan

comments:

fan: That jackets looks a bit big on her, doesn't it?

fan: Is that Lando's jacket?

fan: Where was this picture taken?

→ fan: At the hotel, after they came back from the track

fan: That in fact it's Lando's jacket. I was there.

→ fan: DETAILS??

→ fan: They came back together and took some pictures with fans. He gave her the jacket cause she was cold, it was really cute

fan: Yn's smile is so pretty

load more comments...

tagged: landonorris

liked by: mclaren, pierregasly, landonorris and 78.527 others

ynbrown: Some snaps from today, bring on the race tomorrow

comments:

fan: Petition for McLaren to hire Yn as their official photographer

→ fan: Where do I sign?

→ fan: Yes please!!

→ landonorris: If that means she could be at every race, I'll sign too!!

fan: Lando's comment aww

fan: Lando wants her around all the time, that's so cute

fan: I missed you in Jeddah, will you be in Melbourne?

→ ynbrown: Yess!!

→ danielricciardo: FINALLY, I've missed you

→ ynbrown: I've missed you too, my boo

load more comments...

ynbrown's Instagram story

landonorris' Instagram story

fan: Wait are Lando and Y/n together in Sydney??

→ fan: Probably, their stories seem to be in the same place

fan: Lando's story seems to be taken at the same location as Y/n's...

fan: Whoop, that's Y/n in Lando's second story

→ fan: They are dating FOR SURE

fan: He didn't even tag her cause we all would recognize her even without hahahah

fan: This and the shirtless picture she posted of Lando back in Bahrain... cmonnnn

fan: I know people have been shipping them for ages but like... it's pretty obvious now isn't it?

--

Taglist

[01zfan]

whose altar do you bow to? | s.es

politician!eunseok x fem. reader | 6.2k words

all may worship at your altar but whose do you bow to?

contains: religious themes, oral (fem. receiving), abandonment issues, problems regarding church culture, body worship, sub!eunseok

sacrilegious masterlist

eunseok left the church six years ago. you remember when everyone in your congregation hated him for it. he left the city to find opportunities and to do something more with his life. you had heard rumors of a prestige college, but many thought it was untrue due to his lax nature. unfortunately leaving the small town was unofficially known as the gateway to losing your faith. because of this, many considered him a nonbeliever. 

truthfully, no one knew what eunseok did for those six years. nobody bothered to ask his family if he still practiced religion, because that would’ve been the logical thing to do. he never was a big part of the church socially, so when he left he was like a ghost. when eunseok disappeared without a trace, everyone saw this as an opening to spread rumors. you knew eunseok personally, the two of the oldest kids in the congregation. you two would be together in line for serving food, overhearing two women talk about another one.

“do they ever get tired of talking behind eachothers backs?” you ladle food onto a child’s plate.

“when thats the only thing to do, you can never get tired of it.” eunseok wasn’t even looking at the two women. he smiled at the next person in line, giving them a cup of fruit.

“still though. sometimes the congregation is so contradictory with their teachings versus practices.” you say.

“it is what it is. people will do what they want. thinking too hard about people’s actions will just cause unneeded stress.” eunseok says before smiling to an old lady. she declines the fruit cup, continuing down the line.

after the last person went through the food line, you and eunseok walked together to the prayer area. you two had a routine, falling into silence as you stared at the miniature altar for christ. you don’t know what eunseok thought about, maybe it was about leaving. you were too caught up in looking at him. as the same lady who was gossiping walked past you she gave you a fake smile on her face. your head followed her all the way down the hallway until she disappeared into another you. you scoff and return your gaze to the altar.

you knew eunseok was right, but you could never let it go. you had joined the church like most kids did when their parents were involved in the church. you didn’t consider yourself to be a nonbeliever, but you found yourself standing for what the church was supposed to represent. you liked helping people, you liked community service, you liked the kindness and acceptance that came with being a churchgoer. as you grew older you say that the way religion was practiced versus in theory was completely different. in your teen years, you clung to eunseok. he felt the same you did, but closer to when he left he seemed to accept it. your complaints fell on his deaf ears, and eventually he was gone.

you knew that what people said about him never bothered eunseok. you wished you could say he liked being talked about. eunseok was something like a celebrity of the church before he left. he was tall and kind. that was enough for him to be adored by the elders of the congregation. you were ignored and not held nearly as high in regard compared to eunseok. you accredited this to you constantly challenging the elders and calling out when they did something outdated. what bothered you was how unbothered he was when it came to himself. 

when eunseok left, he left without saying a word. it would’ve been so easy to pass a note along to the pastor, or to say something during group. instead, he just left. so you had to deal with overhearing eunseok be the subject of gossip. 

he left because he lost faith.

i heard he left town because he got some slut from his school pregnant.

he left to go to a city filled with drugs and alcohol.

he never learned hymns. he slept half the time.

may god guide that poor boys soul.

for six years you heard things you would be kicked out of church for repeating. you spent time defending the rumors at first. you would say the truth under your breath or tell the older women to mind their business with a smile on your face. you thought that you were invincible because you were equipped with the truth. you wielded the truth like a sword, trying to fight away rumors of someone you considered a friend. you learned the valuable lesson that the truth doesn’t overshadow the masses. you were protecting eunseok a little too fiercely, and ended up backing off when the rumors began to involve you.

she’s mad because she wanted eunseok to take her with him.

she should focus on finding a husband within the church instead of protecting one that has left it.

after becoming even more ostracized you started to adopt the same attitude eunseok had. you let the words wash off of you like rain. eunseok was lucky he wasn’t there for the fallout. you had become withdrawn and bitter towards everyone in the church. you would sit in front of the statue of christ, looking up at his pitiful outstretched hands. you don’t know how someone could be so merciful, so understanding. you were filled with unbridled rage looking up at his statue. that was the final time you bowed to the altar. you got up and dusted off your knees. you found this to be symbolic, brushing off what little devotion you had left to such a weak man.

six years later, you were still involved. you don’t know why you stayed. you often compared your relationship with the church as a friend you hated but couldn’t let go of—it weighed down on you but random moments of happiness made you stay. being in the building made you lethargic and looking at the whispering ladies made you sick. you didn’t see them as believers, you saw them as aimless people looking for something to poor endless praise upon. you saw them as less than nonbelievers. 

despite your disdain for the church, you had more responsibilities than you did when you were in high school. the church often interfered with your career and part time job, but you also used it as an excuse. who was going to deny you the right to leave work early so you could worship? who would give you a penalty on an assignment that you missed due to you being needed at the church? clerical responsibilities were left in your hands. this was the effect of people leaving the flock too close together. you stopped caring why people left, or even learning people’s names in general. after some time, you would look around in the prayer halls or the lines at confessionals and you wouldn’t recognize a single face. you adopted the mindset that eventually, everyone would leave the congregation. you were just waiting your turn. you walked around the halls of the church and whispers followed you everywhere. they called you a nonbeliever, embodiment of an evil demon sent to destroy the church. you were blamed for people leaving, claiming that you were pushing people away from the path of righteousness. you found this ironic because your work for the church behind the scenes was one of the few things keeping it afloat. 

maybe that’s another reason you stayed. as much as you hated those four walls you couldn’t stand to see them be torn down. eunseok was the same way. 

you were assigning youth pastors to their groups when you heard his name for the first time in six years.

“song eunseok? why does that name sound so familiar?” mark said. instantly you looked up from the paper to eavesdrop on his conversation.

“song eunseok?” you repeated. mark and yeri look at you. you go back to looking at your schedule, gripping your pen a little tighter.

“yeah, do you know him?” mark says scratching his head.

“he used to attend the church when i was the same age as you guys.” you said. you remember the first time you met eunseok, thanking god for sending you someone who understood you. you almost chuckle looking at the paper recalling memories. if only you had known then what you knew now, you would’ve rebuked eunseok the moment you saw him.

“no freaking way, he went here?” yeri says, hitting marks shoulder.

“was he a youth pastor like us?” mark visibly gets excited as well.

you completely look away from your schedule now. how would these two know about eunseok? were there rumors floating around about him again?

“no, but he did help out with the church. why?” you say, trying to remain as neutral as possible. 

“because he’s like a government official now” mark said. yeri looked at him and they both laughed, surprised you didn’t know who he was.

“what?” you abandon all efforts of sounding neutral. 

“yeah look!” yeri shows you her phone. 

you wish you could say you remained calm. your eyes nearly popped out of your head when you saw the headline. eunseok had made it out of your small town to a much bigger one, a place where he was included in making laws. you saw the article commend him for coming from nothing to graduating from a prestigious school and pursuing law. many people thought he was a revolutionary, demanding for progressively legislature despite only recently joining the board.

“oh my god.” you say. 

“i don’t think you can say that.” mark said. the pair giggled again, but you were too caught up in looking at eunseok. he looked so different from the last time you saw him, but still the same. that was your eunseok. the one who giggled with you during confessionals. eunseok who stole extra crackers from communion because he could. the one who left you. 

“i can’t believe it.” you say. the schedule has been completely forgotten. the iron resolve you had at church was broken in an instant. you could tell yeri and mark were shocked to see you show so much emotion.

“you must have been pretty close with him.” yeri says, grabbing back her phone. 

“we were friends. like you two are.” you pull yourself out of your shocked state, trying to put on the same cold demeanor. you turn back to the group assignment, but every name you read looks like his.

“well you will probably be happy to hear that he’s coming to the church during tonight’s service,” mark said. he looked over your shoulder “are the schedules done yet?”

“what?” you can’t hold back the shock in your voice. your two youth group leaders laugh at your expense.

“the pastor is pretty hush hush about it. but i heard a rumor he’s coming to give a speech about donating something to the church.” yeri says.

mark grabs the group assignments off your desk and hands one to yeri. yeri audibly groans once she sees who she is assigned to. the pair leave quickly after getting their assignments, leaving you alone to your thoughts. eunseok had left the church for reasons unknown. you thought he would come back, the way poor sinners came back crawling in the rain, shaking their metal cup begging for an ounce of forgiveness. now he was coming back as someone who people would put on the altar next to god himself. did he even still pray? did he still remember the hymns that were drilled into their minds as kids? or did he truly forget it all to follow a life of fame and fortune? that wasn’t a lifestyle fit for a man of god.

you debate on leaving then and there. night service doesn’t start for another hour, and technically your duties for the day are done. you could slip out through any exit, and not come back until the next time you’re needed. eunseok would be long gone, and you could just hear about the rumors spread about his visit for the next six years. the thought of being in the same room as him made you sick, the same sick you felt seeing the gossiping sinners of the church stick their noses up at you.

with a power beyond your own, you feel yourself get up from your desk. you walk through the mostly empty offices, and head down the stairs. you try to be quiet, to not let the floorboards tell you their age underneath your feet. you can hear the low murmurs of men behind doors talking about things that have to be whispered. you’re sure they’re talking about the allocation of what you assume to be the heavy donation they’ll be receiving tonight. you can’t believe eunseok is becoming the very thing you hated. unfair donations, things that would be better off at any other organization instead being funneled into a failing church. it made you feel like a kid again, spying on the grownups trying to stay hidden. the only difference was that your previous partner in crime was the one you were hiding from. 

you looked through the crack in the door and saw him. eunseok was wearing a suit not so different from what you remember him wearing six years ago. but he was different now, so different from the boy you grew up with. this eunseok had a more defined jawline, the baby fat from his cheeks was completely gone. he had a different hairstyle now too, one that made him look more mature. this eunseok towered over the men he spoke with. there was an aura now surrounding him now. he was already confident when you two had met, but now there was another layer to it. more depth. his boyish charm had turned into charisma of a handsome young man. you watched as he stood and listened to the men in robes bicker. so much had changed about eunseok but he still remained disinterested in anything pertaining to church.

you didn’t see eunseok speak until they brought up the lunch program. 

“my donation is for the lunch program. i want all the funds to dedicated to the plan i emailed you before. you accepted the donation under the promise that the funds would be allocated there.” eunseok said. you figured the man with the briefcase and nice suit beside him was his lawyer. you leaned closer to the door, trying to gather everything.

apparently you were wrong about the donation. eunseok had plans to help the church expand who the lunch program would reach. instead of just a line inside the church, he wanted several stations in town near impoverished areas. he wanted to also expand the date and hours. you watched him explain his plan with an even head, but his hand flexing at his side told you he was getting frustrated. 

when the conversation was over you had to quickly run away, flexing your feet so your presence wouldn’t be known. you don’t know how long you had stood there, but the night service was starting. you got caught in the flow of the crowd into the room that was much more packed than usual. mark and yeri left you a seat. you squeezed into the seat and picked at the hand fan that was passed around the room. 

you were more nervous than you wanted to admit. you fidgeted and looked around for most of the service, waiting for eunseok to come out. you wished it would be over, each time the congregation stood your restless legs yelled at you to run.

when eunseok came out you stood still. mark had to nearly pull you down to sit after the hymn.

the pastor was speaking, but you couldn’t listen. all you could see was eunseok stand off to the side, hands in front of him as he listened. you wondered if he even remembered you, how surprised he would be that you were still here at the church you complained about everyday to him. then you thought about if he would even recognize you in the crowd of churchgoers. alot can happen in six years and you don’t doubt that eunseok has met his fair share of people. you think your face has blended into the mass of people sitting in the pews. you see his eyes look over the crowd, coming closer and closer to you. you prepare yourself to be filled with more disdain, more pain when he eventually looks over you.

when he sees you in the crowd, his eyes widen. you haven’t taken your eyes off him the whole time, wide and confused like he’s a mirage standing on the stage. you think he must have you confused, that he just paused in the crowd. his mouth opens in shock, the same shock you had seeing his name in the headlines.

“i think he recognizes you.” mark says, looking between you and eunseok.

you shush mark as the preacher continues to speak.

“so thank you to song eunseok, previous member of our parish for the generous donation.” the pastor says.

all around you people stood and clapped. you were amazed, seeing people that had spread rumors about eunseok cheer and clap for him now. as he bowed, people only clapped louder. the ones that called him stupid praised him for speaking to elegantly. when he thanked god, the ones that said he was a nonbeliever cheered the loudest. when eunseok got up from his bow, he kept his eye contact with you. it was a gaze of someone all knowing. he looked at you like he was trying to convey that it was all for show. eunseok was alot of things, and an entertainer was one of them. he was fit for the life of worship, a standing ovation suited him well. it made you sick how easily praise fell upon him, when you had worked so hard for this church just to be whispered about all day.

it was fanfare and fireworks for the next thirty minutes, everyone in the congregation practically tripping over themselves to get a picture with eunseok. handing him babies to kiss, asking for him to consider legislature that would benefit him. you noticed photographers trying their best to remain inconspicuous as they took photos. occasionally he would look to you and you had to look away. you wanted to avoid him all night, you don’t even know why you stayed. yeri and mark eventually made their way to him too, smiling in their group photo. you wanted to run away when you saw eunseok following behind mark and yeri.

“eunseok says he’s joining us for youth group tonight.” yeri says smiling. 

when youth group split up you found yourself being short on handouts. eunseok’s appearance at the church brought in an influx of people, a number the church hasn’t seen in a long time. you were short on prayer pamphlets and eunseok volunteered to help you.

you tried to not be self conscious of the man behind you. you had walked through the church a million times before, but you felt yourself bump into walls you knew were there and turn the handles on locked doors. it was embarrassing having him follow you up the old and creaky outdated staircase. everything about you now felt so archaic. eunseok represented a time that was advanced past the chipping paint on the walls and the frayed robes the priests wore. it made your stomach churn thinking about how he didn’t remember where he came from. everywhere you turned there were people wanting a photo. you watched eunseok’s demeanor completely change to turn on some sort of charm. you didn’t say a word until you opened up your old desktop, printing out copies of papers from the dusty white printer.

“i didn’t expect to see you here.” eunseok said. you ignored him, only focusing on the sound of the old printer doing its best. you wish you could say you hated giving him the cold shoulder. being the one to deny him praise or acknowledgment felt like the justice you had been denied for the past six years.

“are you still mad at me? for leaving?” eunseok said. he moved from the door, coming to stand near your desk.

“i don’t care. you did what you did with your life eunseok.” you refuse to look at him as you speak. 

you can hear his feet tap on the ground. being so cold is against your religious practices but you didn’t mind hell if it meant denying him heaven. you imagine someone like the eunseok that stood before you reveled in the attention good or bad. without any attention you think he would shrivel up like a plant without sun.

“i wanted to see you. but i couldn’t leave.” eunseok is standing beside you now. he crouches, look up at you trying to see your eyes. you focus your eyes so hard on the desktop that the typed words start to become blurry.

when he gets on his knees in front of you then look at him. your eyes are wide and shocked as he looks to you with genuine sadness. you are shocked to see eunseok look so lost. he has always been so sure of himself. the same person that projected confidence onstage was groveling at your feet.

“i know what you think of me.” he whispered. 

the assumption of knowing you makes you bristle. if he knew you he would’ve never left you alone all those years ago.

“you don’t know anything.” you feel your years of being misunderstood bubble up to the surface. you spitting words quietly at eunseok is the only thing that keeps the anger at bay.

“i don’t know anything.” eunseok agrees with you. seeing him so easily give up makes you instantly regret your rage. your first instinct is to forgive him, to say sorry for being so cold. but then you think about the dust you brushed off your knee when you got up from the altar. you let out a sigh. nothing feels right anymore.

“you could’ve atleast called.” you say quietly.

“they wouldn’t let us have phones. i only recently got mine back.” eunseok says. he shuffles even closer to you, placing a kiss on your clothed knee. “the first thing i did with the money i’ve earned was to try and pay you back. to show you how sorry i am.”

having someone where eunseok was at in life look to you for forgiveness made you confused. after years of being denied autonomy, only becoming an extension of something else. when eunseok was here, you were an extension of him. when he left you became an extension of church, maybe even of god himself. but now you had eunseok kneel before you and talk to you as your own person. how did he not forget about you after all of that time. why did he rememberyou to the point that he made a donation to your church to apologize. you use your hand to tilt eunseok’s chin up. he finds your eyes, placing a hand over yours. you lean over to his shoulder.

“you’re pretty loved now. people treat you like a god. like you can change the world.” you say. eunseok nods his head. he agree with anything you said to him.

you looked down at eunseok, on his knees kissing your legs. he had lifted up your dress to get more access to your skin. after you get up from the chair you stand before eunseok. you think about the statue that hung above the altar the last timed you prayed. even though it’s been years since you looked to god for answers, you will never forget the desperation that rolled off of you in waves. it’s the same desperation that filled the room, the same desperation that filled eunseoks’ eyes. you felt like god now, extending a forgiving olive branch to someone who wronged you. 

eunseok looks up to you from your feet. he had always been so much taller than you. now it seems like he had shrunk himself under your gaze.

“but whose altar do you bow to, eunseok? is it still gods’?” you ask.

eunseok looks at you deep in the eyes. it’s still the same eyes that left you alone all that time ago, the same eyes you thought about in the confines of your bed. 

“i bow to his altar only to pray for your forgiveness. i feel devotion for you and you alone.” eunseok says.

“people call you a nonbeliever. is that true?” you ask.

“i believe in you. isn’t that enough?” eunseok says with a solemn expression on his face. he goes back to kissing your body. he lifts your dress higher and higher, exposing even more skin. he kisses up to your knee, lifting more of your dress. he looks to you one final time before you pinch the fabric of your dress. you lightly pull up your hands, exposing your mid thigh. he purposely puts the end of your dress in the palm of your hands, letting you control how much of your skin he gets to kiss.

he sucks and kisses on the exposed skin, working from your right calf up. when he gets to the highest part of your exposed body he works his way down the other leg. you stand in front of the powerful man. the same lips that will eventually address a nation kiss you timidly, like you are going to run away. the same hands that will write legislature pull you close. you slowly lean back until you’re sitting on the edge of your computer desk. you bring a leg up to prop it on the chair. eunseok looks to you as you bring the fabric of your dress to rest underneath your chin. 

“i want to worship you,” eunseok looks up from a kiss placed on your thigh. his fingers enclose on the waistband of your panties. he looks to you for approval, for permission to go further. “i want to show you how regretful i am. how apologetic i feel.”

“then do it.” you say.

without missing a beat, eunseok pulls your panties down your legs. he’s delicate with the way he removes them, lifting you legs so you don’t have to do any of the work. eunseok crumbles the pair into his pants pocket. you don’t ask for it back, the image of him treating your undergarmets like a rosary, gripped in his hand while he tries to remember what gods touch felt like. he put large hand on the back of your thighs and lifts. you have a leg over his shoulder and the other still is in the chair. you lean back on your desk. you think about your body weight straining the old oak. if it breaks, you will just ask your loyal devotee to buy you a new one. 

eunseok doesn’t take his eyes off of you, looking for visual cues on what to do next. he places sweet kisses on the area surrounding your heat. you lift your hips he brings an arm from your thigh to rest on your stomach, holding you in place. he doesn’t dare to tell you what to do, just hoping you will listen to his physical pleas for control.

he places a single kiss on your core. you ball the end of your dress and put it inside of your mouth to try and muffle any sounds you may make. eunseok goes back to placing kisses on your thigh. he grabs your hand and places it on his head. you immediately use your hand to hold his soft brown hair. eunseok kisses your heat. he keeps his lips there, continuing to give you chaste kisses. you try to keep your composure but fail when his tongue comes from between his lips. he takes a long stripe and you can feel his tongue inside of you. you moan into the fabric of your dress and bring him closer with your leg behind his back. you are acting on your own volition, using your heels and hand to bring him even closer to your core. with your spare hand you grab eunseok’s hand and squeeze. you feel an absence and look down at eunseok between your legs. he has slick covering his mouth as he looks at you wide eyed.

“can i ask for forgiveness?” eunseok smiles before placing a sweet kiss to your thigh.

“ask god.” your chest heaves with each word. you don’t know when you lost your breath, but each words comes out in rushed huffs.

“i am.” eunseok says before diving back in between your legs.

he’s more aggressive with you this time around. he uses the hand that was holding your stomach down to spread your folds. you keep looking at eunseok, and he pulls back to look you in the eyes again. he spits on your clit and you throw your head back in ecstasy. how can something so filthy feel so exhilarating. you can’t stop thinking about how this is a sin you would die on the cross for. eunseok puts his middle finger inside of you and sucks on your clit. you arch more and more into his mouth, holding his hair tightly. your muffled sounds get higher and higher as eunseok becomes more intense. you close your thighs around him but he doesn’t pull away. his tongue is coated in forgiveness as he bows into your altar. he takes everything, sucking and licking you until you come down from the heaven eunseok took you too.

mindlessly you pull eunseok up to you. he hesitates at first but obliges, letting you gather him into your arms. against your knee, you can feel his hardened length. you think about how you’re ignoring your duties as the one keeping your oratory going. you consider yourself to be a selfish god as you reach for the belt of eunseoks’ slacks.

his hands consume yours. you are forced to look up to him now, as he stands taller than your perch on the desk. his eyes are wide and show you conflicting emotions. he shouldn’t be scared to do what he wants in your home. you decide that you make the rules as you continue to undo his belt.

“you have my forgiveness and maybe a little more than that,” you say. eunseok’s eyes become hooded and his expression becomes hungry. “but now i need you to fuck me like you’re making up for lost time.”

eunseok lets you undo his belt. the unbuckling sound gives his desperation its wings as he goes back to your dress. he unzips the back of the dress and pulls it over your shoulders. it falls forward and you stay in your white lacy bra. you both decide you don’t have enough time to completely abandon your clothing. eunseok takes the lead on undressing himself, unzipping his pants and letting them fall to the ground. he comes back to you and rubs his clothed length against your knee. you moan and tilt your head to see him get lost in the pleasure. you bite your lip looking at him. you can feel him pulsing against you as he lets his head lean back. he’s sighing in relief and you wonder if things stress him out now, if he feels pressure to do well as a politician. you decide wordlessly to take on all his stress and hardship like a good god does. you reach for his briefs and unclothe him. eunseoks’ hard member bobs up and down before pointing straight towards you. it’s angry and red, the tip leaking with precum. eunseok moans from the cold air hitting him. you never took him as the sensitive type.

you reach for him and stroke him gently. eunseok has his eyes closed but finds your shoulder easily, holding onto you to ground himself. his head retreated into your neck as you gently jerked him off. he says something that sounds like a confession into your ear, talking about how he’s never felt this good in his life. how he has only thought about you in moments like these, no matter the circumstance.

“devotion looks pretty on you eunseok.” you whisper into his ear. you guide him to your entrance and eunseok looks between your bodies to see where you two meet.

eunseok kisses your neck as he slowly sinks into you. you tremble and suddenly six years of complicated feelings becomes incredibly simple. you lift you leg that was hanging over the desk to rest on the edge. this angle changes something in eunseok. he pulls away from the crook in your neck and places a confident hand on your bent knee. he doesn’t break eye contact as he pulls all the way out. eunseok’s gaze doesn’t falter when he puts it back in with a hard and fast thrust, one that makes everything on your desk shift. eunseok does it a second time and for a split second your resolve breaks. you only have a little bit of time to compose yourself when eunseok pulls out all the way again. when eunseok does it for the third time you falter, eyebrows contorting in pleasure. eunseok smiles.

“you feel that?” eunseok says.

before you can respond. he changes the pace after seeing you falter. he hips work in a steadfast motion. you can hear things shift out of place and fall off your desk. the floorboard creak from the commotion and your boobs jump in your bra. you have to lean forward and grab eunseok for stability. he hooks his arms underneath your legs pulling you closer to him. the new angle has you whimpering and you can see eunseok’s dress shirt becoming wrinkled under your grip. your whimpers become high pitched and whiny when you hear eunseok’s grunts from above you. everything feels so surreal you forget that you truly are human. you can’t make the pleasure last forever, you must go through the same ups and downs as the rest of humanity. you grip onto eunseok harder and bring him down so you can kiss him. you want to bask in whatever high you are about to feel so you can remember it next time you bow at the altar. eunseok pulls away and quickly pushes things off the desk. he lays you down and puts your ankles behind his head, placing an arm over your thighs to keep your legs straight. this angle has you feeling him drag against your walls and you can feel him hitting a spot deep inside of you. this position makes it easier for eunseok to flick your clit. you shake around him and you can hear the slapping of your skin against his.

“i’m a saint. i want my god to cum first.” eunseok says smiling.

you can barely breathe as the orgasm rakes through your body. you put a hand on his arm that holds your legs and he abandons holding your legs to grip your hand. your legs become loose and eunseok bends them to kiss your face. you can barely focus on kissing him back, too busy trying to make gain control of your senses. everything is flooded with white and gold and sky blue. eunseok becomes rushed and sloppy making your pulsing erratic. you a new wave of pleasure hits you as eunseok throbs inside of you. you can feel years of lost time fill you to the brim and he slumps against you. things on your desk finally still and you breathe out heavily, finally regaining your composure. you can feel eunseok slide out of you and you let your legs dangle over the edge of the desk.

when he settles on your chest you pet his hair, trying to smooth out the strands that stick out in random places. he listens to your heartbeat, you listen to his deep breaths. 

it feels like ages before you move from underneath eunseok. you had forgotten how big he is and how comforting it always was being in close proximity to him. eunseok gets off of you and guides you off the desk. you pull your dress back over your bra and eunseok puts on his clothes. as you grab papers from the printer eunseok brushes out your dress to help you look put together again. you return the favor, smoothing down his disheveled hair. you hand him his belt and you fix his crooked vote pin that resides on his lapel. you both do this in silence, working in collaboration to hide your secret church service.

as you fix his cuffs, you can feel his burning gaze. you don’t know why now you feel nervous. 

“do you still remember the secret exit we’d take when sneaking out of youth group?” eunseok asks. when you finish with his cuffs you look at him and smile.

“yes. do you?” you ask.

he smile and nods.

“how could i forget?”

[slarpg]

I've received a few questions from people looking to make fan merch recently, so now's as good a time as any to update SLARPG's fan merch guidelines in our FAQ for clarity!

Selling fan-made merchandise

What's okay:

Generally speaking: independent artists making merch with their own SLARPG-inspired artwork/designs and selling it in limited quantities. This includes the usual things you'd sell at a convention like prints, stickers, pins, charms, standees, etc.

For example: if you draw a piece of Melody fanart, and you print 100 copies to sell at a convention, and then you sell the leftover stock on Etsy, that's all totally fine.

Basically anything handmade or one-of-a-kind. Cosplay items, hand-sewn plushes, Perler bead sprites, etc.

Fan zines, comics, etc. consisting of original artwork.

Also, if you're selling these things online, please try to make it clear that it's unofficial in some way, just to avoid confusion. A simple shout out in the description telling people to check out the game will probably suffice.

What's NOT okay:

A company (as opposed to an independent artist) selling unlicensed merch.

Mass-produced unofficial merch. I don't have a specific number for what counts as "mass-produced," and if something sells out I won't stop you from making more. But, y'know, please don't order 10,000 of something.

Designs sold via online print-on-demand services such as those provided by Amazon, RedBubble, CafePress, TeePublic, etc. where they can be mass-produced indefinitely.

Selling printings of official artwork from the game, presented as-is in a non-transformative way. For example: selling a poster of one of my illustrations of the cast, or stickers using the character sprites.

I'm a smalltime creator trying to make ends meet, and SLARPG and any related projects are my livelihood, so in some regards I have to be a little precious with these things. But I also get that fan artists are just trying to make a living themselves, and this stuff is usually made out of love for the source material. So I wanna allow as much as I reasonably can.

If you have further questions, feel free to contact me (Bobby) through the usual social media channels or by e-mailing me via ponettplus@gmail.com.

[psychotrenny]

I’ve been thinking about the whole “ACAB includes tankie cops” stance lately (it’s not like it’s been a recent subject of “discourse” but it’s definitely something I’ve seen thrown around before) and I reckon that it reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of class society. Like at its most oversimplified level the state is a social construct for one class to supress/control another with the nature of the state determining which class in the dominant and which in the marginalised position. The police and the role they play serve as an obvious example of this. But while there are countless examples of corruption in polices forces all over the world if you think that this is the primary problem with policing, that cops do what they’re not meant to is the problem, you’re following the same logic as Liberal Reformists.

From a leftist perspective the fundamental issue with police in the Capitalist world is that they are the violent enforces of the Bourgeoisie state. This goes for even the most kind, well-meaning and up-standing cop who doesn’t even know what a bribe is and has never reached for his gun in his entire career. As bad as it is when cops do what they’re “not meant to”, the reason for the “All” in ACAB is because what they’re meant to do is hardly any better. And hell, you shouldn’t ignore the class interests of cops and how that relates to what behaviours they engage in; a lot of “corruption” and officially condemned but unofficial tolerated or even celebrated behaviours still affirms their actual role. Like terrorising minority communities serves to maintain the hierarchical structures that reinforce capitalism on both a material and ideological level; considering deep inter-connections between white supremacy and capitalism is it any surprise that the violent defenders of capitalism are inclined to violent white supremacy

And now the problem with lumping in the police forces of Socialist countries is that their role is different on a fundamental level; the purpose of the worker’s state and its agents is to suppress the interests of the Bourgeoisie and maintain the power of the Proletariat. And you can debate about how effective they are at this (i.e. all those discussions of “state capitalism” or “bureaucratisation”) or offer criticisms about the performance of particular police forces (serving a Socialist state certainly doesn’t make one immune to corruption or bigotry-although I would argue that it doesn’t actively encourage it in the same way service to a Capitalist one does). Like there are very much arguments to be had about how the innate flaws of modern policing (an armed body institutionally separated from the people it is meant to “protect and serve”) and the opportunities we have to replace it with something better. But you have to actually *make* those arguments rather than taking them for granted. And such arguments are fundamentally hollow if you don’t even acknowledge the difference between who the cops are meant to “protect and serve” in a Capitalist versus a Socialist state. Like whatever your criticisms of (for example) the Cuban PNR it is incredibly foolish to make them on the exact same terms as you would the British NCA

[hamsterclaw]

Humbug

Bangtan Christmas 2023 drabble 1 - read the rest here.

Paediatrician Dr Jung Hoseok is beloved by all his patients and everyone he works with. Unfortunately, his cheerful demeanour is only a front, underneath it all, he's a humbug.

Pairing: Hoseok x f! reader

Genre: Paediatrician Hoseok, social worker reader, fluff, smut

Rating: 18+

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, medical emergencies

Hoseok looks up from the computer screen at the sound of his name. His eyes take a moment to adjust, the screen’s the brightest light in the otherwise darkened paediatric ward.

The nurse, Jihyo, holds out a mug of coffee, just how he likes it. 

Hoseok accepts gratefully, stares at the words on the side of the mug.

Big patience for little patients.

He blinks, indifferent, and goes back to prescribing.

His phone rings, muted because it’s 3am but he can hear it loud and clear.

He lifts it to his ear. ‘Dr Jung,’ he says by way of greeting.

‘You’re needed in the ER,’ comes the crisp tone of the ER charge nurse.

Hoseok sighs, doesn’t bother to ask why. ‘I’ll be there in 5.’

He hangs up, signs the chart and gulps the rest of his coffee, scorching his tongue and the roof of his mouth but preferring the burn to the desolate pang of his empty stomach.

The dry sandwich he’d bolted at 6pm the day before is nothing but a distant memory, churning its partially digested way through his intestines.

He takes a shortcut to the ER, cutting through the works alley between buildings.

Ironic that he has to pass the unofficial smoker’s alley to get fresh air.

Kim Namjoon, his friend and the resident cardiothoracics surgeon, nods and waves a vape pen at him in greeting. 

Hoseok lifts a hand back, pushes the back entrance door open that someone’s propped open with a brick, hospital security be damned, re-enters the hospital next to the mortuary.

He glances askance at the double doors. It always makes him feel a little twitchy passing the morgue in the early hours of the morning.

He reminds himself he’s a grown adult as he picks up the pace, allows himself a little sigh of relief as he turns the corner and sees the bright lights of radiology.

He’s greeted by a cacophony of noises as he enters the ER, monitors beeping, people barking out instructions, distant sirens as ambulances pull up to the drop off.

He narrows his eyes against the fluorescent white strip lighting, looking around for the charge nurse’s familiar navy tunic. 

He spots her by the resus bay, grimaces a bit at the carnage from a trauma that hasn’t been cleaned up.

‘Called for a paediatric consult?’ 

The charge nurse nods, brisk, waves an arm in the vague direction of the paediatric area. 

‘15 year old, intoxicated.’

With that she’s off, and Hoseok trudges away. 

The atmosphere in the paediatric area is less jarring, not so much because of the cheerful murals on the walls, but because it’s quieter, less hectic.

Hoseok assesses a teenager in a glittery jumpsuit who smells so strongly of alcohol and hairspray he reminds him of his own high school leaving prom.

He does an assessment, makes the mistake of asking the teen if he wants a drink on his way out of the exam room.

The teen chortles gleefully. 

‘Yeah, gin and tonic, hold the tonic!’

Hoseok rolls his eyes as he exits.

He’s looking for a free computer to write up his notes when there’s movement in the periphery of his vision. 

‘Need a computer?’ you ask. 

Hoseok blinks to wake himself up. You’re way too pretty considering the early hour. Judging by your attire, more casual than smart, your carelessly styled hair, he makes an educated guess. 

‘Are you with social services?’ 

‘Y/N, duty social worker,’ you confirm, nodding towards the exam room he’s just exited. ‘Jaebeom’s one of ours.’ 

‘Yeah?’ Hoseok asks. ‘I’m Hoseok, paediatrics. I’m admitting him until he sobers up.’ 

You nod. ‘His foster carer can pick him up in the morning, she’s got another child that she needs to drop off at school.’ 

You look around, yawning delicately behind your hand. ‘Is there a place to get coffee around here at this time?’ 

There’s an on-call room waiting for him, a bed, but Hoseok doesn’t hesitate. 

‘If you have five minutes for me to write up my notes, I can take you to the lounge?’ 

You give him a look he doesn’t bother to interpret, it’s now 4am and if you say no he can always go to bed. 

‘Yeah,’ you say. ‘Thanks.’ 

Hoseok types up his notes with you sitting in one of the empty chairs in the otherwise deserted paediatric department. 

When he logs off he’s amused to find you engrossed in sorting shapes to slot into a sphere. 

‘I can give you a few more minutes if you want,’ he says, dry. 

You laugh. ‘I’ll be quicker once I’ve had caffeine.’ 

You follow him down the corridor towards the main hospital to the lounge. 

Hoseok swipes his ID badge, pushes the door open. 

You take in the ancient mismatched couches, the big screen TV, the tiny kitchenette with the top-of-the-line coffee machine, the chipped mugs drying next to the sink.

‘So this is how doctors roll, huh?’ you say. 

Hoseok laughs. ‘Yeah baby, stick with me and I’ll show you a good time.’ 

He waggles his eyebrows, and you burst out laughing. 

Hoseok’s struck by your smile and the way your eyes light up. He clears his throat, tells himself to stop staring at you like a creep. 

‘Latte?’ he offers, picking up the nicest mug he can see. 

‘Yeah, thanks,’ you say. 

You’re fishing in your bag, emerging with a half-opened package of cookies. 

He exchanges your coffee for a cookie, gestures to one of the couches. 

He’s not expecting you to sit next to him, there’s plenty of space, but after a moment, you choose the seat beside him. 

You sip your coffees in silence. 

‘Been busy?’ you ask. 

‘Yeah, a little,’ Hoseok replies. 

Up close like this, he can see the tiny piercings in your ear, the gleam of gold through the fall of your hair. 

Again, he pulls himself together with effort. 

‘Have you been busy?’ he asks. 

You stretch a little. ‘Yeah. We’re short-staffed, like always. Also something about the cold weather makes people be shits to each other.’

Hoseok’s not surprised. Winter’s always hard, fuck Christmas spirit and all that jazz.

‘I hear you,’ he says. 

You sip your coffee, offer him another cookie which he accepts. 

Your phone rings in your bag, you glance at him as you fish your phone out. 

‘Duty calls,’ you say ruefully. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’ 

Hoseok’s about to bid you goodbye when you lean towards him, close, thumb brushing a corner of his mouth so quickly he barely registers it before you’re pulling your hand away. 

‘Crumbs,’ you say. There’s the tiniest twinkle in your eye.

Hoseok’s voice comes out raspy as he says, ‘Thanks.’ 

‘See you around, doc.’ 

You’re not waiting for an answer, shouldering your bag, tossing him one last look on your way out. 

Hoseok leans back against the couch, willing his heartrate to decelerate. 

Outside, the darkest part of the night’s just about over. 

***

Hoseok’s working hard to keep his bright smile on today. 

He’s had a parent ask him if he has kids and then tell him he couldn’t possibly understand how precious their child is, as he doesn’t have children of his own. 

He got an email from a conference he’s applied to saying due to the huge number of applicants, his abstract wasn’t selected for presentation. 

His intern, Hyunjin, seems to be on a mission to aggravate him as much as possible. 

‘We need a derm consult,’ Hyunjin tells him at the end of presenting the patient he’s just seen. 

Hoseok closes his eyes briefly, desperately summoning what remains of his rapidly dwindling stores of patience. 

‘Why do we need a derm consult, Dr Park?’ he tries not to bark. 

‘This patient has verrucas.’ 

Hoseok blinks, takes a breath. 

‘This patient needs nebulised albuterol and oxygen and an admission to paediatrics. The verrucas can wait until he gets better and the mom can stop by a pharmacy for some over-the-counter verruca treatment.’ 

Hyunjin stares at him. 

‘He’s satting in the low nineties,’ Hoseok points out, words coming out brisk, staccato. ‘I can hear him wheezing from here.’ 

The ER nurse behind Hyunjin’s already tutting and prepping the neb. 

‘Was there anything else, Hyunjin?’ Hoseok asks, getting up, staring at the rapidly expanding list of patients waiting for a paediatric consult.

His phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket with a sigh. 

‘Dr Jung,’ he says. 

‘Is that Hoseok?’ 

The voice is vaguely familiar, but he can’t place it. 

‘Depends who’s asking,’ he snaps. 

‘It’s Y/N, the social worker. You got me coffee last week at 4am?’ 

Hoseok has a flash of a memory, of your hand on his face. 

‘Shit, sorry,’ he says, running a hand through his hair, already sticking straight up in all directions, courtesy of the shitty haircut he got in the barbershop on his way in. 

‘Rough day, huh?’ you say, the sympathy in your voice making warmth bloom in his chest. 

‘Yeah.’ 

‘I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner after work today,’ you ask, no preamble, so direct Hoseok takes a moment to process. 

‘I’d love to,’ he says. ‘I don’t get off until 8, though.’ 

‘I finish at 8 too,’ you say. ‘That works for me.’ 

You exchange numbers, and you promise to text him details. 

‘Hope your day gets better, Dr Jung,’ you say, the teasing note in your voice making him smile, genuinely, for the first time, today. 

‘It already is,’ he says. 

He’s still smiling when he hangs up. 

‘Hoseok,’ comes a voice from behind him. 

Hoseok raises a brow inquiringly at Hyunjin, who, inexplicably, is still standing there. 

‘About the verrucas,’ begins Hyunjin. 

‘Nope,’ Hoseok says, pleasantly, still smiling. 

He brushes past Hyunjin and picks up the next consult. 

***

It’s ten to eight and thank fuck for that, because Hoseok’s had enough of today. 

He’s getting changed out of the scrubs he was forced to change into after he was projectile vomited on by a chubby 10 month old, grateful he has spare clothes in his locker, when the door to the changing rooms opens. 

Hoseok pauses, shirtless, hands on the tie of his scrubs bottoms. 

Hyunjin blinks at him. 

‘Nice abs, boss,’ he says. 

Hoseok eyes both the fluffy white tee he was about to change into and the scrubs top he’s just discarded, questioning why he ever thought going into medicine was a good idea. 

He grits his teeth. 

‘Yes, Hyunjin?’ 

‘There’s a blue light call - breathless five year old, ETA 3 minutes.’ 

‘Jisoo is on tonight, let her know,’ Hoseok replies. ‘Also, close the door, damnit.’ 

Hyunjin looks surprised at the three medical students who have clustered behind him, all of whom are staring at Hoseok wide-eyed. 

‘Jisoo’s going to be twenty minutes late, something about a train breakdown?’

Hyunjin’s got the wisdom to stay out of Hoseok’s reach. 

Hoseok’s hand lands on his soft t-shirt, longingly. 

With a sigh, he bypasses it and reaches for his scrubs top, pulling it over his head. 

‘I’ll be right there,’ he says. 

***

By the time Hoseok’s assessed the breathless patient and handed over to an apologetic Jisoo, the time on the clock on the wall says 9pm. 

Hoseok pulls his phone out, dials your number. 

You answer on the first ring. 

Without waiting for him to say anything, you say, ‘The food’s still hot, I took the liberty of ordering for you. Are you on your way?’ 

Hoseok breathes out, a sigh of relief so profound he feels lightheaded. 

‘Marry me,’ he says. ‘I’ll be there in ten.’ 

He gets dressed in record time, emerges out of the carnage of the ER like a phoenix rising from the ashes. 

You’re the first person he sees when he gets to the restaurant, and you’re the best thing he’s seen all day. 

He greets you with a hug and a cheek kiss that you weren’t expecting, judging by the shy smile on your pretty face. 

‘I —’ you start, then you stop, adorably flustered. 

‘You’re beautiful,’ Hoseok says. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this all day.’ 

‘I was just going to say I ordered tempura that’s on its way,’ you say. 

‘I’m sorry I’m so late,’ Hoseok says. He’s got his hand on yours on the table without any memory of how it got there, but he likes the feel of it. 

‘Make it up to me,’ you say, easy. 

‘I’m going to do my best,’ he promises. 

***

At least four people have seen Hoseok’s bare chest today, but you’re the only person he cares about impressing, at least right at this moment. 

Because holy fuck, you’re beautiful, pressed tight to him on your poky couch, mouth on his, lips and teeth clashing as he kisses you over and over. 

You’re making noises that are driving him slightly crazy, making him feel hot and desperate, and he has to stop himself from looking at your tits in that black bra or he’s going to embarrass himself. 

Shit. 

Your hand’s slid down, brushing over his dick, and he’s so hard already he has to will himself not to nut right now. 

He tugs experimentally at the strap of your bra, and when you don’t protest he tugs it down, cups the weight of your left breast. 

God, you feel so good. Soft, warm, exposed nipple begging to be kissed. 

He runs his thumb over your areola, a slow pass. 

The low moan you let out gives him the confidence to scrape the tip of his nail over the peak of your breast. 

‘God, take it off, Hoseok,’ you tell him, and Hoseok’s sure as hell not going to make you ask twice. 

He slides a hand around your bare back, unhooks your bra, can’t stop himself from looking. 

His dick, already trying to stand at attention in its denim prison, twitches at the sight of your bared breasts. 

Hoseok’s trying to remember what colour briefs he has on, if it’ll be obvious when he takes his jeans off that he’s leaking precum just from looking at your tits. 

Then you cup the length of him over his jeans, and he finds he doesn’t give a fuck. 

Your skirt’s ridden up, your thighs part under his hand encouragingly. 

You’re so soft Hoseok can’t suppress a groan. 

He hooks a couple fingers under the gusset of your panties, tugs, and your hand lands on his. 

Hoseok looks up, hand stilling. 

Hoseok’s been told that he has a gorgeous smile, but just at this moment, you’re the one who’s blinding him. 

‘You can touch,’ you say, voice husky, teeth in your bottom lip. 

‘Yeah?’ Hoseok asks, his own voice raspy, dropped low. 

‘Yeah.’ 

‘Can I taste?’ 

You help him tug your panties down, over the curve of your ass that he can’t resist squeezing. 

He tugs the flimsy cotton down your thighs, helps you slide a leg out. 

He realises, belatedly, that you never answered his question, but you don’t seem to mind as he bends down, flicks his tongue against your pretty cunt. 

Damn, you sound even prettier when he’s eating you out. 

Hoseok licks into your folds, nudges your clit. 

He doesn’t have any hangups about giving head, especially not in a girl like you who seems to enjoy everything he’s doing. 

‘Shit, Hoseok,’ you moan, breathless, eyes squeezed shut. 

He pushes a finger into you, curls it, and you cry out so loudly his cock hardens even more. 

He tugs at the button fly of his jeans, loosening them for a little relief. 

‘Please tell me you have a condom,’ you plead, voice thick, so sexy Hoseok can’t believe you’re under him like this. 

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Why don’t you come and I’ll fuck you?’ 

‘Fuck me now,’ you tell him. 

Hoseok seals his lips around your clit, flicks his tongue, slips another finger into you, scissoring, pressing, slow, making every movement count. 

‘Hoseok!’ 

He doesn’t reply, because he can tell by the way your thighs are shaking that you’re close. 

He just needs another minute. 

He doesn’t know if you’ve realised that your fingers are in his hair, pulling, but he’s taking it as a positive. 

He keeps doing what he’s doing with his tongue, because you seem to like it. 

Your cunt tightens around his fingers, you call his name again, buck your hips into his face, and Hoseok doesn’t even need you to tell him you’re coming because he can feel you pulsing, can hear it in your voice, can feel the way everything tightens as you reach your peak. 

It’s the hottest thing he’s seen in a while. 

Fuck. 

Hoseok draws himself out of jeans, takes himself in hand, pumps once. 

You haven’t forgotten him. 

‘Get inside, Hoseok,’ you say, and as he fishes the condom out of his jeans you flip it out of his grasp and rip it with your teeth. 

Hoseok closes his eyes as you squeeze the tip and roll it onto his dick, concentrating on not coming in your grasp. 

You push him back onto the couch, get on top of him, and Hoseok could weep at the view. 

Your hair’s a mess, your lips bitten and flushed, and goddamn, your tits need to be in a museum. 

He doesn’t realise he’s said that last bit out loud until you burst out laughing. 

‘Shut up, Hoseok,’ you tell him, but you’re still riding him so there’s that. 

Hoseok grabs your hips, helps you move even though you’re doing a pretty damn good job already. 

‘You like this, Hoseok?’ you ask. 

Hoseok flexes his cock inside you. ‘Yeah,’ he says. 

‘I like it too.’ 

‘Yeah?’ 

You lean forward, tits bouncing in front of his face, and Hoseok thinks that if he died right now, smothered in between your breasts, he wouldn’t mind one bit. 

‘Go on, baby, take what you want,’ you say. 

Hoseok bucks his hips hard, up into the wet warmth of your cunt, tugs your head down to kiss you deep, open-mouthed, and comes with a groan, deep in his chest. 

Bliss. 

***

Hoseok wakes in a bed he doesn’t remember getting into, a bedroom that he finds soothing, with its neutral colours and soft sunlight filtering in the crack between the curtains.

There’s an arm flung across his chest, the soft curve of a breast against his chest. 

You’re turned away, boneless, in a deep sleep. 

His incorrigible cock stirs as he takes in the line of your back, down to the tempting curve of your ass. 

He spots the clock on the wall, groans when he realises he should really be up now if he wants to get to work on time. 

You’re still dead asleep even after he’s fully dressed, splayed out in the sheets, gloriously naked.

Hoseok pulls the duvet over your bare shoulder, resists the urge to kiss your upturned cheek, and makes sure the door’s locked behind him as he leaves.

***

Hoseok tightens his scarf around his neck as he waits for you at the entrance to the Christmas market you’ve managed to convince him to accompany you to.

The fact is, he hates the cold, he thinks all Christmas markets are gimmicky and overpriced, and after a run of incredibly busy shifts, he’d much rather be in bed with you right now than here.

Hoseok sidesteps neatly as he’s approached by a jovial couple dressed as Father Christmas and Mrs Klaus.

He’s about to pull his phone out to check on you when you hurry up to him, tuck your arm in his.

‘Hobi! You weren’t waiting long, were you?’

Hoseok looks at your bright smile and can’t bring himself to say anything other than ‘no, not long.’

Your lips are cold, but the kiss you plant on his cheek, next to his mouth, goes a long way towards improving his mood.

He doesn’t even give the three elves handing out tiny candy canes a dirty look.

‘Crepes?’ you suggest, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the longest queue is in front of the crepe stand.

‘Sure,’ Hoseok agrees.

You get in line and immediately turn to him, sliding your arms around his waist, under his coat.

‘How’ve you been?’ you ask.

Hoseok and you have met up a couple times over the last three weeks, enough that he’s left a spare shirt and some toiletries at your place.

You’re sweet, and fun, and he hopes you like him as much as he’s starting to like you. 

‘I’m better now,’ he says, just so he can admire the glow of your smile. 

‘You’re cheesy,’ you say, but the brightness in your eyes tells him you don’t mind. 

‘Nah,’ Hoseok replies. ‘You dragged us to this Christmas market, I know you’ve got your eye on one of those tacky reindeer tree ornaments, you don’t get to call me cheesy.’ 

‘I like the blue one,’ you say, conceding so easily Hoseok has to smile. 

‘Wait here, I’ll go and get it,’ he says. 

‘What crepe do you want?’ you ask, as he pulls away. 

‘Surprise me,’ he tells you. 

Hoseok walks over to the ornament stall you’ve been eyeing for the past five minutes, picks out the blue ornament, hesitates over the collection of tiny gold Christmas bauble earrings. 

He makes a decision, pays, shoves his purchases into his coat pocket and walks back to you. 

You hold a crepe out to him, and he accepts with a ‘thanks’, taking the warm paper-wrapped bundle out of your hand and taking a bite. 

The warm melted chocolate floods his taste buds, and he tries not to moan at the gooey sweetness of it. 

‘Good, right?’ you ask. ‘Worth the wait.’ 

You’re not waiting for an answer, skipping ahead, heading for the chestnuts and hot chocolate like you’re a walking Christmas cliche. 

Hoseok follows behind you. He finds he doesn’t really mind. 

***

You stick your key in the lock, unlock the door to your apartment, don’t bother with the lights before you turn around and slide your hands up Hoseok’s chest, fingers tucked under the lapels of his coat. 

Hoseok doesn’t have a lot to say, not when you’re looking up at him, lips pouted for a kiss. 

He slips a hand around the back of your neck, cupping your head, and tilts his head down to yours. 

‘Mmmm,’ you murmur. ‘You taste like chocolate.’ 

Hoseok leans down again, kisses you deep, tongue sliding into your mouth. 

‘It’s cold,’ he says. ‘Warm me up.’ 

He’s only half-serious, having you pressed against him like this is doing a hell of a job of warming him up. 

The wicked gleam in your eye gets him the rest of the way. 

‘Come on. Want to take a bath?’ you ask. 

Hoseok makes out with you in front of the mirror in your bathroom whilst the tub fills, is a short second away from guiding his cock between your legs when you pull away, bend over in front of him to test the temperature.

‘Get in,’ you say, and Hoseok’s always been good at following instructions. 

He slides into the warm heat of the bath, groans at the feel of it, reaches out to steady you as you climb in on top of him, right into his lap, impatient like he feels. 

You look so good bare and wet like this, the steam making tendrils of your hair curl against your neck, the tops of your breasts visible above the water line. Hoseok hadn’t thought he could get any harder but he does. 

‘Sit on me,’ he says, and there’s a slosh of water, wet skin against wet skin, and then the slippery warmth of your cunt, taking him in. 

The tips of your breasts jiggle in front of him as you move, and between the tightness of your walls around him and the prettiness of your moans, Hoseok’s in heaven. 

He slips a hand around your hips, helping you ride him, and curls his hand around your breast, lifting it out of the water so he can suck. 

You cry his name as he flicks his tongue over your nipple, and Hoseok squeezes the flesh of your hip, tight, under the water. 

Your rhythm’s erratic but it’s making the pleasure build, short, tight circles of your hips against his. 

‘Hoseok,’ you moan. 

‘Yeah?’ he mumbles, lips around the peak of your breast. 

He flexes his cock inside you, hums in satisfaction at the way your face goes slack, eyes half closed. 

Shit, you look so pretty in the throes of pleasure. 

Hoseok slides a hand up, fingers curling around your neck, thumb pressed into the hollow between your collarbones. 

Your voice is hoarse now, raspy like his, as he urges, ‘Go on, take it.’ 

He presses down, you gasp, and lose your rhythm entirely as you come around his cock, walls spasming around him. 

Hoseok takes over, fucking you through it, hardening until he comes with a low grunt. 

Wet, slick, warm. 

You’re tired, he can tell, the way you’re slumping against his chest. 

‘Come on,’ he says. ‘I’ll wash us off.’ 

He coaxes you into your shower with him, soaps over the marks he’s made on your skin, wraps you into a towel. 

By the time you’re both in bed, you’re more asleep than awake. 

‘Work tomorrow?’ you ask. 

‘I’m working,’ Hoseok tells you. ‘Want me to set an alarm for you?’ 

He doesn’t get an answer, you’re asleep on his chest already. 

He should get up, switch some lights off, but a moment later, he’s asleep too. 

***

Hoseok never thought he’d see the day he would want Hyunjin to be around, but he’s getting slammed, and the way things are looking, he needs all hands on deck. 

He’s jogging down the corridor to his second emergency call for the day despite it being only 10am. It’s busy even for the holidays. 

‘House fire,’ barks Mira, the ER charge nurse as Hoseok snaps on gloves. ‘Three children, five minutes out.’ 

‘How bad?’ asks Hoseok, prepping an IV access kit. 

‘PICU are aware, they’re sending backup when they can but they’ve got their own internal collapse, they’re dealing with an arrest on the neurosurgical ward,’ Mira replies. 

The doors slide open, and Hoseok can already tell from the looks on the paramedics’ faces that it’s not looking good. 

Fucking hell, where’s Hyunjin, what a day to be in resus training instead of on the floor. 

The second patient’s wheeled in as the first is still being parked, and Hoseok’s surprised to see you accompanying them, covered in soot, but he doesn’t have time to process now. 

All he can do is deal with what’s in front of him, so that’s what he does. 

***

It’s well into the afternoon by the time all three patients are stabilised and wheeled up to the PICU. 

Hoseok’s washing his hands mechanically in one of the resus sinks, buying his brain some time to come down from the adrenaline of the last few hours, when he hears his name called. 

‘Hey,’ you say, holding out a cup to him. 

Hoseok takes a big gulp of the steaming hot coffee. There’s sugar in it, he doesn’t usually have sugar in his coffee, but today it goes down smooth, giving him a much-needed glucose boost. 

He drinks most of it before he can muster a ‘Thanks.’ 

You don’t seem to be in a hurry. 

You’ve cleaned most of the soot off your face, but your top is ruined. 

Belatedly, Hoseok notices a plaster on your arm, remembers that you came in with the ambulance crew and the three kids. 

‘Are you ok?’ he asks. 

‘I’m fine,’ you say. ‘I was just outside the house when the gas oven imploded. I saw the kids in the window and got them out.’ 

Hoseok blinks. He hadn’t been expecting that. 

‘You ran into a burning house?’ 

You frown a bit. ‘It wasn’t burning then, there was just smoke everywhere.’ 

You cough, and he notices that your voice is a little hoarse. 

‘Besides, I was right there and I saw the kids, I couldn’t leave them.’ 

‘Shit,’ Hoseok says. He pulls you into a hug. ‘I didn’t know.’ 

‘Do you think they’re going to be ok?’ you ask, resting your head on his chest. 

‘I hope so,’ Hoseok says.

He pulls away. ‘Did they check your carbon monoxide levels?’ 

You laugh, and the tension in his chest eases a little. ‘Yes, doc, I’ve been cleared for discharge.’ 

You grab his hand, squeeze. ‘I’m probably doing better than you right now.’ 

‘This is why I hate Christmas,’ Hoseok blurts out. 

You’re looking at him, but you don’t say anything, and he can’t stop anyway.

‘Everyone goes on about Christmas and goodwill and people helping each other and yet the same shit happens as the rest of the year. It means nothing, just a commercial holiday that big companies use to make money out of dumb people.’ 

‘It’s bullshit,’ Hoseok says.

‘My parents feel the same as you,’ you say. You give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. ‘They never celebrated the holidays.’ 

‘They had the right idea,’ Hoseok agrees.

‘When do you get off today?’ you ask. ‘I can make us dinner, if you want.’ 

‘I don’t think I’ll be good company,’ Hoseok says, honestly. 

‘You’re welcome, even if you’re the biggest grinch in the world,’ you say, with a sweetness that makes warmth bloom in his chest. 

‘I’m not a grinch,’ he says, half-heartedly. 

‘A humbug, then,’ you say. 

You reach out and touch his cheek. 

‘Come over, later, if you want.’ 

***

Hoseok finds himself outside your apartment after his shift, wondering if you really wanted him to come over. 

You don’t keep him waiting long, soon enough you’re opening the door, handing him a glass of wine, putting food in front of him.

Hoseok hasn’t even so much as showered, he came straight from work.

You notice him looking at the half-decorated Christmas tree you’ve got in your lounge, the open box of ornaments next to it.

‘I like Christmas,’ you say. ‘I thought I’d cheer myself up by putting up a tree.’

You seem to be worried about his reaction, so Hoseok grasps your hand.

‘Just because I’m a grinch doesn’t mean you have to be,’ he says.

You smile. ‘My parents never had a tree and I always wanted one.’

The food and the wine are going a long way towards making Hoseok feel normal again after his day.

‘Are you going to see them for Christmas?’ he asks.

There’s a brief shadow across your face, so quick he isn’t sure if he saw it.

‘They’re doing relief work in South Sudan,’ you say. ‘They’re doctors too.’

You ask, ‘Are you away for Christmas?’

‘Yeah, my parents and sister are upstate. I’ll drive up to them.’

‘Are they grinches like you are?’ you ask, teasing.

Hoseok laughs. ‘I’m the only grinch in the family. My mother goes all out, and my sister loves Christmas too.’

‘Sounds amazing,’ you say, a hint of wistfulness in your tone.

Your top’s slipped down over your shoulder, and between the way your skin gleams and the way your lips are stained from the wine, you’re so pretty Hoseok’s distracted.

He reaches out, tugging you into his arms. 

‘Can I take a shower?’ he asks.

‘Sure,’ you say. The mischievous twinkle is back in your eyes now. ‘Want company?’

‘Always,’ Hoseok says.

***

For once, you’re up before him the next morning. 

He must have been more tired than he realised.

You’re fastening your bra in a feat of dexterity he’s always admired. 

‘Shame I missed the show,’ he says, his voice raspy in the darkness of your bedroom. 

‘Happens every morning,’ you say. ‘You’ve got an invite every time.’ 

Hoseok laughs, rolls over, sheet around his waist. 

‘What time is it?’ he asks, propping his arm behind his head, looking out the crack in the window as the snow falling outside. 

‘It’s 6am on Christmas eve,’ you tell him. 

‘Shit, I gotta pack for tonight,’ he says. 

You pull a sweater on over a tee, sit on the edge of the bed to put socks on. 

‘I probably won’t see you until after the holidays, huh?’ 

‘I’m back in a couple days,’ Hoseok says, hand on the small of your back where your sweater’s ridden up. 

‘Yeah. Merry Christmas, Hobi. Eat all the turkey for me.’ 

‘I don’t even like turkey,’ he says, honestly. 

You laugh, amused, and cup his cheek. ‘See you after Christmas, grinch. There’s coffee in the kitchen.’ 

Your goodbye kiss makes him want to pull you back into bed with him. 

***

Hoseok pulls up outside his parents’ house, rubs the back of his neck, trying to get the crick out. 

He can see the living room and kitchen lights are on, and he already knows that when he opens the front door and steps in he’ll be greeted with familiar smells. 

Cinnamon. Fresh bread. The chicken dish his eomma always makes the night before Christmas. 

He realises with a start that he never thought to ask you what you’d be doing for Christmas. 

He’d spent an hour finishing decorating your tree after you left your apartment, so that you’d have a fully-decked out tree when you came back from work today, and had only belatedly realised that perhaps you’d have had fun decorating the tree together. 

He’d put the earrings he got you under the tree, hung the gloriously tacky blue ornament he’d picked up for you at the Christmas market. 

He’d packed the red lace panties you’d tossed merrily in his face when you’d stripped for him the night before, in the shower. 

Shit, maybe that was a creep thing to do. 

Too late now. 

The front door opens, and his sister stands in the doorway. 

‘Come on, what’s taking you so long,’ she asks. 

‘Coming,’ Hoseok says. 

He grabs his bag out the trunk and goes inside. 

***

Hoseok wonders if he’s even in the right place. 

You’d once told him, offhand, that you often volunteer at the shelter close to your apartment on Christmas day, and when he’d gone to your apartment and you weren’t in, he’d driven here. 

It’s a women’s shelter, and he’s trying to make himself look as harmless as possible as he waits to be let in. 

A woman dressed in a light-up jumper opens the door, eyes him suspiciously. 

Hoseok has a sudden feeling that he’s made a terrible mistake. 

It’s too late now. 

‘I’m Hoseok, I’m a friend of Y/N’s. Is she here?’ he asks

To his relief, the woman’s face transforms into a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

‘You’re the doctor friend she keeps telling us about! Come in, she’s here.’ 

The woman grasps him by the arm, pulls him in out of the snow. 

‘She’s helping in the kitchen, you can help too, if you want.’ 

‘Sure,’ Hoseok says. Her grip on his arm is strong, there’s no way he’s going to say no. 

He’s led to an industrial looking kitchen, dated but clean, greeted by the sounds of chatter and Christmas classics. 

There’s mess everywhere, like Santa exploded, but all that falls away when he sees you.

You look up, spot him, and the smile on your face makes him smile too. He probably looks like an idiot, here grinning at you, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

You get up, and then somehow you’re in his arms, the reindeer headband you have on poking him in the jaw but he’s still not bothered.

There’s heckling, teasing, whooping, but all he sees and hears is you.

‘What are you doing here?’ you ask, holding him so tightly he can barely breathe. 

He likes it.

‘I forgot to wish you Merry Christmas,’ he says.

‘Merry Christmas, humbug.’

Hoseok wants to argue that he’s not a humbug, not really, but you’re kissing him, so he shuts up and kisses you back instead. 

©hamsterclaw 2023

[sl-walker]

Boldly Writing is going to hopefully be the nonprofit for indie archives; the ultimate plan is to give us an umbrella org that lets donations to our archives, etc. be tax-deductible, allows us to access a lot of services for free or reduced cost through the org and otherwise lets us move forward with championing the causes of more independent and decentralized fan communities while still providing the social networking and cohesion of a single community over all.

My ultimate vision is to expand and clean up our documentation for installing/running otw-archive, offering tech support for new instances of the software (and ourchive when it releases!), eventually culminating in server space we can offer similar to Walter at Squidge.org. Walter's been carrying a lot of the non-OTW side of the fandom on his shoulders for a long time as we've lost more and more independent commuities; another org working in tandem with Squidge (and indeed OTW!) would only be good for fandom.

Boldly Writing is a non-membership model nonprofit, but you're more than welcome to be a part of the organization via volunteering. Right now, we're possibly looking for a fifth board member -- or more! We can have several! -- for fiscal year 2025. A board member's main responsibilities are just to show up for the four annual meetings required by us, propose and/or vote on resolutions and bylaws and whatnot, and otherwise support the org. Terms are three years. If you're interested in this, you have to be a US citizen and over 18, but that's basically it.

Other things, like committees and assignments, are next on our agenda. (Those can be a lot of fun, too!) Currently, our Boldly Writing discussion takes place on Ad Astra's server, though we might eventually make a new one for the org.

Scroll to the Boldly Writing category for our unofficial first meeting minutes and any org discussion. If you wanna be our fifth board member, hit me up!

[kittydragondraws]

This Fandom is Weirdly Misogynistic and Ableist

Yeah great title there bud.

So originally this was going to be a half-baked rant about how people disrespect V, but the more I brainstormed that I came to realize. This fandom in general has a problem with misogyny and even ableism towards not just V, but Uzi as well. Heck, I would almost say Uzi moreso.

When it comes to personality butchering, I'd say V gets it worse. The number of times I've seen people make her sound like some petty, vengeful ex makes me want to rip my laptop screen off its hinges.

And most of the reason they do this, episode 4.

When Uzi and V are together in the cabin, V tells Uzi that it's better to stay distant because she'll have to kill Uzi next. Afterwards saying that N's made friends with rocks before, and that he'd move on from her death just fine.

Now, I honestly love this scene. It's a moment where Uzi and V get to be together and V gets to show her true colors without having to hide them from N. She expresses her desire to kill Uzi, because she believes it'll keep N safe, and tells her about the rock friends to make her feel like she's just some cheap novelty to N. This scene is great.

Yet apparently, some people looked at this scene and saw it as V being jealous of Uzi's relationship with N and wanting to kill her over it.

Now I just have to ask... why. This scene is so easy to understand when you just sit and think about it, so why did so many people default to it being a ship thing?

Maybe because she's just a pantless whore who exists just for people to thirst over. At least, that's what Reddit bros and Discord trolls would have you believe.

Now, I do feel it's a bit stupid to look at an unpopular female character and say "well you'd like her if they were a guy", but with V I have a feeling that's exactly the case.

V's not fan service, she's not a hoe or some crazy ex. She's just trying to keep herself from losing one of the few sane constants in her crazy, messed-up life.

But of course, she can't be an intelligent or deep character, she's just a petty woman upset at Uzi for stealing her man and who needs to put on some pants.

Now Uzi, I'd have to say her treatment is worse. Not just because it's the same sexist bullshit V has to put up with, but because she's neurodivergent.

Okay, that was a lie, she's not canonically neurodivergent. But she does have a lot of traits of a neurodivergent person. Being a social outcast, thought of as weird because of her interests and behavior.

Most people who headcanon Uzi as neurodivergent seem to agree that she could have autism, ADHD, or BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder), and I just wanna talk a bit more about her unofficial BPD diagnosis because I think that's the most fascinating out of the three.

In this image I highlighted some symptoms that feel very similar to personality traits Uzi has. Like, it's so similar it almost feels weird to say Uzi having BPD isn't canon.

Now I know what you're going to say, "But Kitty this is just people's headcanons."

And you know what? Fair honestly. But even if Uzi doesn't have autism, ADHD, or BPD, she almost definitely has some form of trauma and you'd be hard-pressed to try to argue with me she's neurotypical.

Uzi's not a pick me, she's a traumatized, possibly neurodivergent, girl trying to hold onto the first friend she's ever made.

Or hey? Maybe she should just suck it up and learn to take care of herself.

Honestly, this post is just a TLDR version of this.

[mbta-unofficial]

looking at the ROC site i don't see much push back on the mbta, mostly just letter after letter of support for the mbta to do what they want including regular price hikes. Meanwhile i've watched the mbta just get worse and worse over the years. Do any of yall even ride the bus? Or do yall just do this to have it on your resume?

[judgmental-eyebrows]

I’ve seen so much excellent gethan discourse, I need to throw this little idea into the ring.

Imagine that Ethan comes meandering back to town in season 6. He escaped from the Initiative awhile back, and decided it would be fun to come and annoy his best friend ex boyfriend former partner in crime Giles. Y’know. As a lover of chaos magic does.

But Giles has left, gone back to England. So, Ethan runs across Buffy and has a Thought. Maybe he thinks that if word gets back to Giles that he’s hanging around his Slayer he’ll come back, or he wants to prove something to Giles, or it’s just too good of a chance to pass up. He could lie, and say that he’s there because Giles told him to keep an eye out, but who would believe that?

So Ethan stays in Sunnydale and proclaims himself to be Buffy’s new unofficial Watcher.

It solves more problems than it causes, which is weird for everyone:

The trio of evil nerds are dealt with very quickly—they’re amateurs, and their work is just uninspiring.

Rack leaves town, having had a run in (that he does NOT wish to repeat) with Ethan years ago.

Willow’s still a bit shaky with the magic from time to time, but she, Tara, and Anya are so busy keeping him from stealing supplies from the Magic Box that she really doesn’t have much of a chance to do any major spells.

Xander has an honest talk with Anya after Ethan sprinkles hexed glitter in his work gloves.

While Buffy is really not pleased that Ethan is so persistent in sticking around, social services have been suspiciously absent lately… but it probably has nothing to do with Ethan standing outside her house and muttering something about “ignorance” and “overlooking”, while waving his hands, right?

Ethan is delighted by Buffy and Spike—they get into the best sort of trouble together. As he tells Buffy, he’s always had a soft spot for a bad boy, especially one with such pretty eyes. Spike’s flattered, and Buffy’s not sure if Ethan is seriously flirting with her vampire (and looking for a broken nose), or trying to irritate her. Either way, she’s not taking any chances.

When Giles returns (for whatever reason—Anya and Xander’s successful wedding? In expectation of the spring apocalypse?) he’s flabbergasted to see Ethan sipping his good liquor at the Magic Box.

“Ah hello, love,” Ethan says smoothly. “Since you left so abruptly and without instructions, I presumed custody over the various children. Join me for a drink?”

Dawn and Anya protest the most at being referred to as children, Spike says something about the number of British gents in the room, and Buffy flings her arms around her stunned Watcher’s neck.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you. He’s the most annoying, obnoxious man I’ve ever met!”

“Yeah,” Xander pipes in, “and she’s dating Spike.”

“Speaking of dating…” Willow starts. “How come you never told us that you and Ethan—?”

And with that, Rupert Giles turns and leaves. He’ll come back in about five minutes, in the hopes that it was all an elaborate daydream.

[nykloss]

I'm seeing so much actively harmful misinfo regarding boycotts.

If you are spreading information on a boycott PLEASE focus on just what the BDS is asking you to boycott. In my honest opinion even THAT is a lot to keep track of, but boycotts work better the more laser-focused they are.

This is the closest thing to an official boycott being asked:

I've seen a lot of posts both here and elsewhere asking people to boycott not just everything on that list, but also Walmart, Amazon, Google, PespsiCo, Coke, Nestle, 4 dozen other big name conglomerates, and a big list of at least 50+ individual celebrities/CEOs/actors. That is not boycotting.

If YOU want to personally abstain from every Israeli-supporting-prduct/service you can, please do it!!!! Even before now, I've personally always abstain from chick-fil-a and 🏴‍☠️ most of my media–but that isn't an organized boycott. In fact, spreading info that every single one of those companies/individuals are "part of the boycott" is blatant misinformation and actually harms the boycott.

Giant lists that include dozens to hundreds of giant conglomerates and individuals that are hard to keep track of are meant to overwhelm individuals and dissuade them from boycotting at best, and are actively impossible to personally enforce at worst. If you are reading this post, chances are you are breaking one of the many unofficial "boycotts" being asked of you.

For example, following every ""boycott"" being asked of you 100% means: stopping use of any Google products (quitting a job that uses Google workspace, abandoning your Android phone, switching to Firefox or Safari web browser, not using Gmail, not using YouTube), stop using most/all social media, making entirely home cooked meals (every restaurant, even small ones, support Pepsi/coke), only being allowed to buy ingredients for those home cooked meals from physical, local small businesses (which may be wiped out in your area/take more gas to drive to/cost more money to buy from), and cross-checking every single item you buy with a giant list (that I hope you printed out, because chances are you can't use your phone/the internet without sending precious ad profit to Google!).

Telling someone to "do that much or do nothing" is going to result in the vast, vast majority of people doing nothing. Think about the every day people in your life–parents, coworkers, community members. Are they going to do that much? If the answer is no, then a boycott is ineffective. (Plus, doing a lot of that stops you from staying informed on the situation, which is top priority right now!)

Stick to spreading the image at the top of this post. The more people boycotting a small handful easy-to-remember companies, the more effective a boycott will be. A small amount of companies will lose a lot of money, and will have to re-evaluate their stance to give money to Israel–the point of a boycott. But, if everyone only ends up boycotting a handful of completely different companies depending on what list they were given online, all of those companies only lose a little money and no impact is made at all.

TLDR: Feel free to personally abstain from whatever products/services you want, but spreading that they are part of the boycott if they AREN'T is harmful!

[mostly-mundane-atla]

I've been on an unofficial hiatus for a while because recovery and adjusting to disability are both really hard, but i feel i do have to say something.

I am not pro-Israel. It's not just my political allignment that makes it impossible, but also my moral code.

Palestinian civilians have been displaced, wrongfullu incarcerated, killed, and otherwise subject to the Israeli government's military violence for decades now, plenty among them for peacefully protesting. Mandatory military service for Israeli citizens means any young adult who isn't willing to face jailtime for refusing to enlist is expected to be a tool of that military violence, and any who do enlist and say something in poor taste or genuinely offensive about it on social media becomes a much easier target than the ones actually in charge. Israeli soldiers ar facing depression and suicidal ideation from this war and Palestinian civilians are resorting to eating animal feed due to aid being cut off.

It is not Holocaust Inversion to say that the state of Israel is oppressing Palestinians

It is not Blood Libel to say Palestinians have had to look through rubble to find their dead childrens' body parts

Jewish people who cannot condone the actions of Israel for moral reasons do not deserve to be called self-hating for it

A massive loss of lives is never good, and it saddens me to hear of Israeli civilian deaths. I wish all those peaceful protests worked and this level of desperation had never been reached, but i cannot, in good conscience, condemn violent resistence to occupation, no matter who it comes from. Doing so cracks open the door for anyone to condemn any group they have a political grudge against for the same thing, and also to claim that they also deserve the total anihilation Israel seems intent on inflicting upon Gaza.

I hope that this war is called off. I hope that all of the hostages can return home. I hope that the brave and compassionate Israeli citizens who see the cruelty people inflict in their name for what it is and try to put a stop to it are victorious. I hope that from the River Jordan to the Mediteranian sea, Palestinians can walk freely among their grandparents' land without fear of bullets, bombs, or violence.