#we protest we donate we write we call

[dalniente]

What progress at home has biden enacted? What policies of his show that he is making progress that prove he is actually different than trump?

I like to pretend I have faith in humanity, so I'll answer as if you're asking this in good faith.

Biden's DEA has lifted restrictions on telehealth prescriptions to make appointments and assistance more accessible.

He put a funding package into place to help unhoused people get access to mental and physical healthcare, as well as short-term and long-term housing.

He has attempted and is still attempting to get student debt relief through - this was blocked by Republican judges appointed by Trump, but he's still working on it.

Infrastructure repair - his administration has budgeted funds to actually fix some severely-damaged and frequently-traveled bridges.

Trying to expand access to healthcare to include undocumented immigrants who came to the USA as children (Dreamers) under the Affordable Care Act. Support for Navigator programs and outreach has also been increased.

He has vetoed Republican-led bills that were attempting to overturn environmental protections - one that would have forbidden investment fund managers to consider climate change in their portfolios (I have two degrees in accounting and this is actually huge), and another that would have overturned restrictions on agricultural runoff into our waterways.

He and his administration worked for ages to get rail workers paid sick days.

This is just some of what he's been doing. Meanwhile, Trump and other Republicans want to criminalize the lives of LGBT people like you and me. They want to eliminate no-fault divorce and force births that will kill parents or devastate them financially. They have stated flat out that they want to install a military dictatorship in the USA. They attempted to put that in motion on January 6th, 2021. They failed once. They will do better next time.

One party wants to house the homeless and expand social safety nets, while the other one wants to criminalize homelessness. One of them wants a future in which I might be able to vote to change how much of a war machine my country is, while the other one wants to eliminate my ability to vote entirely. Those are not the same. Those literally are opposites.

At the end of the day, all you and I can do is choose to do the least amount of harm possible. You and I cannot choose to do no harm. This is the USA, we sell war, you and I cannot choose to do no harm. I wish we could, my god do I wish we could, but that is not an option. So we grieve for the harm we couldn't eliminate and work to minimize the harm that is done. Despite all the crap they support, Democrats are the minimum amount of harm right now. Acting like they aren't is exactly what brought us to an election where our options are a future where we are either wading in blood or drowning in it.

Not voting for Biden will not help Palestine. Not voting for Biden will guarantee a Republican president who will make the situation in Palestine WORSE. AND it'll hurt a lot of other places as well, both at home and abroad, because Republicans are about business and the USA is in the business of war! And I would very much like that to change someday! I would very much like to someday be able to choose to do no harm! And I know what I have to do to try for that future, so what are YOU going to do? There is no standing off to the side in this. If you aren't helping pull, you're the dead weight we're pulling. Are you going to dig your feet into the mud and blood and drown us there? Or are you going to get the fuck off your ass, grit your teeth, and help us pull free?

[fairuzfan]

Is there anything I can do to help Palestinians besides call my representatives and beg them to stop killing people?

This is a great question. There are a few things you can do—just off the top of my head:

BDS (Boycott, Divest, Sanction) https://bdsmovement.net/

Direct Action https://www.palestineaction.org/

Urge your University/School/Organization to put out a statement denouncing Israel

Organize a Protest/Participate in a local one

You might already be doing this but while calling your reps, tell them that as a voter, you're unwilling to support them in the upcoming election unless they urge the White House to take a stand against Israel and stop funding them

Share art/writing/films around Palestinian culture

If you're part of a union, ask them what they're doing to urge their industry leaders to take a stand against Israel + pressure the White House OR urge them to start a strike/walkout/etc if they're not doing anything already

Talk with your friends IRL about Palestine, whether in an activist capacity or watching a movie or literally anything

Reach out to a mosque to see if you can help them with anything

See if your city/state council has put out a statement in support of Gazans. If not, try to push them to do so.

Donate to Palestine Legal or Direct Action if you have some money to spare

KEEP TALKING ON SOCIAL MEDIA!!!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know some of these don't feel like they have as big of an impact on helping Palestinians, but we do need to make an effort not to forget their humanity in the face of continued erasure and the media's sensationalist rhetoric.

Talking on social media and posting—while not seeming like a lot—does SO much. I know in USAmerica, it's like yelling into a void, but political analysts are saying that most of the "Global South" has completely lost any amount of goodwill it may have had the past few years. Hopefully, countries will start to put sanctions and embargoes en masse on the US and Israel soon.

Our goals here are BOTH short-term and long-term. We hope for the life and liberation of the Palestinian people, so anything that you can think of might help at some point in the future is encouraged to at least try.

If anyone else has any more ideas, feel free to reblog and add on. Thank you for asking, and here is to a liberated Palestine where Palestinians can live and thrive without fear.

[danatron1]

Help trans people in the UK!

TERF island sucks, however thousands of innocent people are harmed by their tyranny. Have sympathy for brits like me who would rather be born anywhere else.

An unprecedented attack on trans rights took place last Wednesday, with the UK Supreme Court writing trans people out of the Equality Act by redefining "woman" to only mean assigned female at birth.

Protests erupted across the country, with thousands taking to the streets to fight for trans rights. With our current government, our suffering falls on deaf ears.

It won't be enough to just fight in the streets, but we need to fight in the courts. The UK Supreme Court is the highest court in the country, with no chance of appeal. However, there is hope.

The European Court of Human Rights can step in if we can get them to recognise this blatant violation of human rights. Leaving the EU doesn't get you out of it! This legal case will be time consuming and expensive, so please donate all that you can to help us win this fight. We're fighting JK Rowling money, but together we can make a difference!

If you can't donate, please share instead!

If you need to know how bad this situation really is, keep reading.

The Supreme Court's ruling, where 3 men decided what "woman" means, puts all women at risk. Male police officers in the UK now have the power to strip search any women they believe to be trans.

It is an offence to enter a single sex bathroom and changing room different from your birth sex, but also to enter one where your presence is "likely to cause offence". This leaves trans men and women with nowhere to go, as well as gender-non conforming cis people.

Non-binary people naturally have zero legal recognition whatsoever, the existence of trans men has been ignored again, and intersex people have been written out of existence.

Trans people are always sent to male prisons regardless of sex. If you don't know the horiffic ramifications of this, Google v-coding.

Gender Recognition Certificates, which were supposed to update your legal sex for all purposes, have been rendered functionally worthless. Trans people are being forced into their assigned sex at birth.

Trans women are banned from rape crisis shelters, domestic abuse protection, and discrimination claims such as equal pay. Trans women have also unsurprisingly been banned from Women's sports.

Trans women are banned from all lesbian groups and organisations, and not just that, cis women are too if they're dating a trans woman. The court ruled that "lesbian" means "AFAB attracted to AFAB", making cis women dating trans women legally straight. The definition also means bi women aren't a thing in UK law now - just a sidenote!

Trans people sent to hospital wards are now always housed according to their assigned sex at birth, regardless of their comfort.

If you're a trans minor, your life is even harder. Puberty blockers and HRT, despite being completely safe and legal for cis people, are banned nation wide for trans youth. The only "help" offered is conversion therapy, which the government calls "exploratory therapy".

And if you're thinking "well, people won't comply" or "My workplace is friendly," then I regret to inform you that this isn't allowed. The UK expects all organisations to update their policies to be trans exclusionary by this summer, and the so-called "Equality and Human Rights Commission" has announced they will persue any organisation which doesn't immediately comply.

By the way, earlier this year the EHRC made the trans panic defense legal. Even kissing someone without disclosing that you're trans is enough to get you convicted with sexual assault. Trans people must always out themselves before any relationship forms or be charged with a sex crime.

Any organisation with bathrooms, changing rooms, rape crisis centres, etc. will be for Ed to exclude trans people. If an organisation lets a trans woman (who in UK law is now legally a man) into a women-only space, they lose the right to operate the single sex space, and can be successfully sued for not letting cis men into it.

The EHRC's recommendation? Trans people use their "powers of advocacy" to request "third spaces" with regards to toilets. THIS IS NOT A JOKE.

We CAN put a stop to this. We CAN defeat transphobia. Bigotry has fallen before and it can fall again. Be the side history remembers fondly.

We'll let you mock our accent if you stop innocent people from suffering first.

DONATE

[weekendviking]

Just noting that one does not have to be an activist or fully informed on every cause, especially if you are not in a social/financial/mental position to do activism or active resistance. And you also don't have to gatekeep each other for not being activist enough/not sharing every horror story enough, etc. Not all of us can pay attention to all things at all times and have the correct level of performance of activism and resistance required - and anyone who persecutes you for not being the perfect activist for whichever cause, is a dickhead. The same goes for anyone who calls you out for not tithing enough to all the fundraisers out there, or not being able to donate at all.

There is enough fascism to go around for all to resist to the level of their ability at the moment. There are multiple genocidal regimes, ongoing and new wars, ongoing neoliberal, cryptofascist and outright fascist government takeovers, etc, and attempting to consciously care about all of it, and fight all of it, all the time, will burn you out.

This is not to say we should not throw ourselves at what we can to help, but none of us can throw ourselves at all of it, and the idea that one can is actually insane (or part of encouraged counter activism social conditioning to actively flood people out of participation by overloading you with shit).

Just getting on with what is in front of us is ok, and also it's ok to help with the big things, but none of us can do everything. Nationally, I'm writing to my reps and submitting on legislation and going to protests when I have the time and the ability. I'm also donating to local womens rights/refuge organisations. Internationally, for now I'm putting what I can afford towards Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF.org) as although they have many issues, they're big, and they get to a lot of places that need help.

[genderqueerdykes]

genuine piece of advice for punks, activists, and everyone else honestly: any form of leftist infighting is a waste of your time.

focus on the task at hand: improving living and quality of life conditions for your community. unionize. donate to food banks. cooperate with organizations like food not bombs to distribute free hot meals. volunteer at libraries. participate in homeless outreach. give people access to resources in your community. organize and participate in protests. create organizations, groups, and gathering spots for queer folk in your area who need safe places to go and find community.

help people find access to HRT, surgery and other gender affirming care. carry, hand out, and administer narcan (naloxone). help recovering people get to rehabilitation, methadone clinics and so on. help addicted people practice harm reduction and use safely. help give out menstrual kits to homeless and low income people who have periods. help people get into housing programs. help disabled people apply for disability (SSI and SSDI) and disability lawyers. help disabled people find work or income resources that are accessible to them. donate blood and/or plasma if you can. care for people with HIV and AIDS.

help people apply for food stamps, medicaid, bill and rent assistance. help disabled people find case managers and caregivers. call local lawmakers to voice your opinions on current events. advocate for disadvantaged queers in your area. establish and participate in mutual aid funds. spread awareness and advocate online. write about and share your experiences with disadvantages, abuse and other problems you've faced in life for who you are. gather and organize with people with shared experiences. start or volunteer at a community garden. deliver meals to the elderly. volunteer at a homeless shelter.

organize fundraisers for, spread awareness of, and donate to:

Palestine

Sudan

Congo

i don't care if someone's activism looks different from yours: there are a TON of ways to improve and make change in your and the global community. doing ONE of these is enough, finding a singular way to improve your community is a better use of your time than arguing. everyone can find ways to be good to each other.

rehashing the same talking points, reading between the lines, accusing someone of identifying with politics they've never advocated for, and making baseless accusations isn't helping. it's not fixing anything. mobilize. advocate. stand up for your community and its rights. take action. now. i mean it. we must.

help each other.

[alcoholfreenayeon]

Midas Touch

CW: Julie x Reader, smut, nsfw, oral, slight exhibitionism, public sex

A/N: I was threatened to write this.

You dutifully note down the important points the teacher makes. It’s really no surprise, you were the perfect student. Straight A’s, the unappreciated school star for badminton, perfect attendance, you name it. Everything you did, you were not just good but perfect at it. The teachers joked that you had a Midas touch since everything you touched seemed to be golden, perfect. Unfortunately….this was not appreciated by your peers as much as it was by your teachers who labeled you a nerdy loser try hard.

“And your partner will be Julie, it’s the only way she can pass this subject”, the teacher comments distastefully as she hears giggling from the back of the class. “Did you hear that Julie? You are paired with Y/N for the presentation.”

Immediately the giggling stops and you hear Julie standing up in protest, “What! I thought you said we can choose our own partners for the presentation and you approved of Belle-”

“That was before the mid term results were out and do I need to remind you-”, the teacher begins.

“Fine! Whatever.”, Julie says with a roll of her eyes and a loud sigh clearly showing her displeasure.

The rest of the class goes pretty smoothly actually, you can occasionally hear Julie’s clique poking fun at her for being stuck with the ‘nerd’ but you didn’t care for their opinion of you too much. Sure you’d prefer that they like you and that you can be popular like them but grades were more important to you and you were not going to her affect yours. Besides given her track record, you were going to end up doing the entire thing yourself anyway.

After class, you realized you had an hour to kill before your badminton practice and decided you might as well talk out the beginning of the project with Julie. As you approach her, you immediately see her friends snicker and point while Julie rolls her eyes, “What do you want.”

All of a sudden, you felt your confidence leave you, the words wouldn’t come out of your mouth and you began to feel really self conscious. The way you were being judged right now, you didn’t like it at all. “I just wanted to-to talk about the proje-presentation”, you manage to squeak out causing them to snicker and whisper more.

Julie looks at you with a pitiful expression, “Oh honey…are you being serious right now? The day has not even ended and you are already wanting to start on it like a goody two shoes. Please be for real. Besides do you like even need my help? I’m pretty sure someone like you doesn’t like it when things aren’t perfect and not done your way so why don’t you just go ahead and do it by yourself like you probably already expected to”, she says dismissively.

Her words sting. Even more so because she wasn’t wrong. You saw her as a slacker and someone who was happy with the bare minimum while you strived for the best. Even if she did do a bit of work, you were probably going to improve it and double check it anyway. But being talked to this way still hurt. You clench your fists as your lip quivers and you take a deep breath to calm yourself. “That’s not going to happen.”, you manage to say weakly. “We are going to work on it as a team like it’s supposed to be and if you don’t do your part, I won’t fix it and both our grades will be affected. Although yours more than mine so keep that in mind. The teacher already is looking for an excuse to fail you and your dad’s “donations” can only help you so much Julie.”, the words come out harsher than you intended and perhaps would have made even more of an impression if you weren’t being so quiet but it still worked.

Her friends became silent while she studied you with a half raised eyebrow, annoyance, intrigue and dare you say, even a bit of respect seemed to be etched on her face. You hold your breath, hoping she doesn’t call your bluff. A moment passes. And then another….

“Fine”, Julie sighs, “Let’s get this over with.”

You sigh in relief, giving her your address and fixing a meet up time before going back to class.

A few hours later, you are walking back home, feeling a bit tired from your classes and badminton training and as you walk up your stairs, you are surprised to see Julie sitting near the top.

“Finally, I was beginning to think you had given me the wrong address”, Julie comments distastefully.

“Uhm…weren’t we supposed to meet at 4:30-oh”, you check the time to see it’s already 4:50.

Julie sighs, “Whatever. Let’s just go in. The air in here stinks.”

You take a deep breath, of course she’s being moody. She’s used to mansions and villas. Not run down student apartments. She probably thinks you are a peasant.

You let her in your place and you both sit on the table and begin to brainstorm. Well kinda. It was more like you suggesting a topic and Julie looking at you blankly. It took some time but she finally showed interest in one of your suggestions and you both began to make notes.

A few minutes later you accidentally dropped your pen. You lean in below the table to grab it when you end up seeing Julie’s legs, the way her thigh highs stopped just above her knees and the way her skirt-you snap out of it and shake your head. No way are you going to think of her of all people in this way. It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty, quite the opposite, she was stunningly beautiful, sexy, alluring, you name it. It was just that there was no point in yearning for someone like her since she was so far above your league. Not to mention the occasional bullying she would do to you. You sigh and continue to do your work.

Julie took a deep breath. This was getting annoying now. She was feeling stumped on the topic now after noting down what little she knew of it and when she tried to look it up on her phone, the shitty website was so littered with ads and pop ups that she couldn’t make anything out. Also she was feeling restless. This chair wasn’t exactly what she was used to. In fact she was surprised this could even be called that. It was hard as a rock, didn’t have armrests and it was beginning to feel like she’d get splinters on her soft skin. She was used to the best luxuries that life had to offer, being the eldest child of one of the richest people in the city.

“Do you have something I can use to look this part up?”, she asks hopefully.

“Uh, yeah, the computer is in the bedroom.”, you say absentmindedly as you keep working while Julie makes her way to your room.

Julie sits on the computer chair and leans back with a sigh of relief, finally a chair that is comfortable to sit on. As she leans back and glances at the computer screen, her interest is piqued. “No way”, she murmurs in surprise, “this might be interesting”. She grins as she finds that you had left the smut you were reading open. She begins to read it.

You stretch as you finish another page of notes. This was good progress. And with Julie researching, the two of you might get a decent grade. Your face falls as you note the silence of Julie and recall what you last had on your computer and you rush to your room.

“Wait!”, you yell as you enter only to find Julie grinning as she has the tab open. Immediately your face flushes, shame, anger and embarrassment all flood through you.

“Who would have thought!”, Julie coos as she grins at you. “The Y/N would be into this kind of thing. Honestly this is crazy, I half expected a good two shoes like you to not even know how it’s done but my god I was wrong. Exhibitionism? Choking? This is the kind of thing you are into? Good for you!”.

“Shut up!”, you say through gritted teeth, your face completely red and your mind already seeing the scenario of the entire class knowing about this by tomorrow.

Julie snickers, “Don’t be shy, we are all friends here. Don’t you trust me with your secrets and fantasies?”, she asks with pout.

“It’s not my fantasy-whatever.”, you grumble with resignation, knowing there’s nothing you can say or do to change her mind. Julie chuckles seeing your grumpy look and finally begins to do her topic research.

A few hours later, the two of you have finished the presentation and rehearsed it once. You were surprised to find out she was feeling nervous about talking about her part considering how she generally doesn’t mind talking to an audience. And you also had your mood improve after that whole smut ordeal. Hopefully Julie doesn’t ruin your already tarnished reputation tomorrow. You close your eyes and end up falling asleep fairly quickly.

On the other hand, Julie was wide awake right now, unable to sleep. Her thoughts were making her feel like she was going crazy, she couldn’t stop thinking about you, how she found your grumpy and embarrassed look cute and that was infuriating to her. Why was a nobody like you occupying her mind this way. And why was she wanting to reenact your smut scene with you. She presses her thighs close together, squirming restlessly as she twists and turns, getting mad at herself for getting turned on by that. After a couple hours of frustration she ended up falling asleep as well, dreaming of doing things to you.

The next day in class, it was time to do the presentation, you and Julie were the third duo to present and were doing the final prep. Julie seemed really irritable, constantly looking around, distracting both of you, not focusing on what you were saying and in general just looking….flustered?

“Are you ok?”, you ask with concern, “Do you need something? We only have 15 minutes before our turn.”

Julie grits her teeth as she looks at you before getting up, grabbing your wrist and dragging you along towards the bathrooms and you hesitantly follow her, unsure of leaving the class when your presentation is just a few minutes away. As you follow her, you realize she went into the staff bathroom.

“J-Julie what are you doing? I thought you said we were ready yesterday?”, you ask as she props herself up on the sink and sits on it. “And why are we in the…teachers bathroom?-hey!”, you suddenly yelp as she drags you close to her by your hair.

“You really keep yapping on and on don’t you”, she growls, her grip on your hair tightening. “I brought you here for one reason. For you to use your mouth and it’s not to talk. So get to work. I can’t focus and it’s all your fault!”, she growls as she pushes your head down while parting her legs.

Your eyes widen as you are suddenly in between her legs and you look up in panic and confusion only to feel her tangle her fingers in your hair roughly, signaling you to get to work. You feel your face flush. What in the world was happening. Then you see her panties, already soaked and you feel yourself get turned on too. Whatever, you think to yourself as you dive right in, pulling her panties to the side. You give her pussy a slow lick bottom to top and then top to bottom causing her to sigh. You then began to lap up her juices eagerly, making sure to get a lick in at her clit every couple of seconds which made her tighten her thighs around your head.

Julie had one hand tangled in your head and was biting her finger from her other hand, a smile on her face, her eyes closed. “Uhnn”, she moans softly as you eat her out with surprising skill and sensuality. Her heart pounds as she tries to keep her balance, squirming helplessly, her breaths turning into pants. “Fuck!”, she gasps out as you get into flow state, learning what she likes and put in your best effort.

You can feel her legs shivering slightly when all of a sudden you hear voices outside. Alarmed, you immediately try to pull your head back, it’s a bit of a struggle since she’s holding your head so tightly.

“Don’t stop!”, Julie tries to growl authoritatively but in her current state it comes out more like a desperate whine.

“People are outside!”, you whisper as you catch your breath.

“Everyone is outside duh!”, Julie snaps back, “it doesn’t matter.”

“No we need to hide, what if a teacher walks in!, you plead, pulling at her hand.

Julie kisses her teeth, letting go of your hair and walks up to a stall. “Fucking fine, come in here.”

No sooner had you both gotten in the stall, the bathroom door opened and you heard two pairs of footsteps echo as a couple teachers walked in, chatting away.

You hold your breath, not wanting to make any noise and glance at Julie and find her looking at you with a sour expression, you can see her juices slowly leaking down her thighs in a inviting manner-now’s not the time! You remind yourself harshly. It would be a massive scandal. The star student caught eating out the school bully in the teachers bathroom??? You would never be able to live it down.

Julie seems to be having the same thoughts as you expect, it’s actually appealing to her. She grabs your face pulling you closer nearly making you gasp and stares at you sternly, making it clear what she wants you to do. You protest, widening your eyes and pointing at the door, the teachers are still in here. She just replies by putting a finger on her lips telling you to be quiet before pushing your head down again. You let out a small sigh and dive right back in, not bothering to protest anymore partly because you knew you can’t change her mind and partly because…you kinda liked it.

Immediately Julie’s breathing quickened as she leaned against the wall of the stall, her hands tangling in your hair and her fingers digging into your scalp. As you continue to lick her folds, you hear the teachers again.

“And then I had to mark-what the-ugh. Why’s this sink so sticky. Tch. I hate this job. They already don’t pay us enough but I guess they are cutting costs on a janitor as well now. Ugh!”, the teacher complains.

Julie is struggling to be quiet now, her head is thrown back as her knees buckle, her mouth open ready to moan out loud. In a panic, you thrust your hand up, clamping her mouth shut causing her to lose focus for a second and look at you in shock before she relaxes again. A bit too much now since she starts to grind against your face. You redouble your efforts, sucking on her clit now which makes her bite down on your hand. You try to ignore the sting and keep sucking.

Finally, the teachers leave and you take a sigh of relief. Your face is now messy from her juices but you going. Julie lets go of your hand, her teeth marks visible, and tries pushing your head further in like she wants you in her pussy. Her thighs clamping down on your head and making you feel the pressure from having your head handled so roughly.

“Fuck I’m going to cum!”, Julie hisses, her legs beginning to quiver. “Oh god oh god oH GOD! I’m going to cum so hard!”, she cries out.

And just as quickly you feel her pussy clenching and spasming as she finally cums, a loud gasp of shock escaping her lips as the shockwaves of pleasure run through her. Her legs shake so hard you are afraid she might lose her balance. She slumps back and slowly begins to slide downward, slowed down by the jerking of her hips as wave after wave of pleasure makes her feel euphoric. Her fingers slowly loosen and let go of your hair and her breathing finally begins to slow down. You then stop eating her out as her aftershocks pass through as well. She opens her eyes lazily, a blissful look on her face, “fuck”, she breathes out. With a bit of effort, you finally manage to pull away, panting for breath yourself and look up at her. Seeing you this way, on your knees, face messy and slick with her juices and that slightly dazed expression on your face makes her bite her lip.

Suddenly you realize that the presentation still has to be done. “Julie! The presentation!”, you squeak and she nods lazily as you both exit the stall.

“You aren’t going to clean yourself up?”, she asks and you blush, suddenly looking at the mirror and seeing the state you are in. Your hair all messy and disheveled, your face slick and even your clothes seem messy. Hurriedly, you do your best to clean up within a couple minutes when out of nowhere, Julie leans in and gently bites your neck from behind causing you to gasp. You look at her as you blush and she just smirks and winks. You shake your head trying not to let it throw you off and rush back to class while Julie follows leisurely. You both make it back in time as just a minute after you both get back in your seats, it’s your turn to present. As you both begin the presentation, the rest of the class watches.

Unbeknownst to you and Julie, someone watches on with much more interest than everyone else in the class and not because of the presentation. Having been friends with Julie for so many years, it was not hard to know what Julie looked like post-coitus especially since she had brought her to that state herself a few times. And given your usual confident self stuttering uncharacteristically at certain points it didn’t take Natty long to connect two and two. She smiled mischievously knowing that things were about to get really interesting……

[ao3cassandraic]

Flooding the zone

Like many in the US right now, I'm having trouble holding my shit together. It's a day-by-day, night-by-nightmare thing. I do not read mainstream news. I have what social media I have left (including this hellsite) filtered to hell and back, because it doesn't take much to send me into a spiral.

So if that's you too right now, I feel you, and I swear I'm not writing this post to make it worse.

I'm writing it to ask us to think about what we're saying and doing and how we're spending our energy.

I'm not a political scientist, but I read a few. I'm not a labor theorist, but I am a union member and officer. Our situation in the US rhymes with other situations, geographically and historically, and one thing that's crystal clear is there are ways to stop this shit and it takes numbers and actions and often time.

The numbers are maybe smaller than you think? That one surprised me. Active resistance from maybe 5% of the population has stopped coups cold.

The rub is, best I can tell, that it's hard to say exactly which actions are gonna turn the tide, never mind when -- this shit's complicated and contextual and frequently opportunistic (as with President Yoon's faceplant in South Korea) such that even hindsight gets a bit murky.

So it seems to me that what it makes sense to do is flood the zone, as they say in American football, and keep flooding it. And yeah, that's a Steve Bannonism too, but what our enemies lack in ethics and care they make up for in cold hard strategy, so why not steal it from them?

(Part of my thinking is George Lakoff, too. Smart dude. Decent one, too. Check him out.)

Flood the zone with truth. Flood the zone with defiance -- it's our country too! Flood the zone with hope.

And not just once, but many times, because we can never know in advance the one time that'll put us over the top. Also because like almost any serious endeavor, resistance takes practice. As we practice, we get habituated to the practice and we get stronger and better at the practice!

I can attest to this myself. I spent most of my adult life pretty lousy at civic engagement (never mind resistance), if I'm honest. I voted routinely, but that was about it. I started switching it up in 2011 (I'm a Sconnie and Scott Walker sure did happen), though -- protests, donations, working the polls, union membership and then service, contacting my legislators, more protests, campaign work, some other stuff.

And now a lot of the above list is plain old routine, for me? It's ordinary as weather. It's just part of how I live my life. I bet civic engagement, including in the form of resistance, can become that way for you, too.

I believe a fair few of us can step onto the same road I've been on if we redirect some of our existing efforts -- because doomscrolling is an effort, venting is an effort, doomsaying and amplifying doomsayers is an effort. Let me gently suggest:

Instead of doomscrolling or ruminating: meditation, spiritual or religious practice if you have one, exercise if it's available to you, reading books or fanfic, doing puzzles or brainteasers (I have developed such a Squaredle habit).

If you can't scratch the doomscroll itch unless you're looking at something political, try Mariame Kaba or Rebecca Solnit or even Ezra Klein. If the problem is the doomscroll finding you, filters and blocks and getting away from algorithm-personalized platforms can likely help, and that last is a good idea all by itself.

Instead of venting to social media or into the void: vent at elected officials! You don't have to start with phone calls, or do them at all (I rarely do) -- remember, we're flooding the zone, and the zone's pretty big. Email or Resistbot or postcards are totally fine. More fun in groups -- postcard with friends!

If you can, try to angle your conversational contributions online and off-, including what you reblog/retoot/boost, away from venting and toward action and hope. This doesn't have to be because you're actually feeling hope -- it absolutely can be (and for me often is) a conscious strategy to develop fellow travelers and discipline my own mind and hands.

Instead of doomsaying, express hope and love and solidarity. Again, you don't always have to feel it -- it's a conscious organizing strategy, get me? If it helps you feel more hope and more solidarity yourself, and it may (especially as others respond to it), that's a grateful bonus.

Or consider a swear-jar strategy. Catch yourself doomsaying? Make a donation or email a legislator or whatever -- just decide on a useful action you'll take when you slip up, and hold yourself to it. Every time.

It's not hard to find people who say that all the above is performative, it's not action, it's not effective, ka-blah-ka-blah-ka-blah. I say that we damned well don't know that and that lots of small efforts from lots of people is totally how zones get flooded.

I also say that everyone starts somewhere, and that the zone ain't gonna flood itself.

Redirect even a little effort to flood the zone with me, please? Thank you. And my love to you and to all of us in these times.

[ijustwannabecool]

Somewhere Only We Know - Part 2

Lando Norris x Reader

Based upon this request:

Hi!!! First of all, I love love loooove your stories. I don't know if you're open to writing for Lando. Just wanted to maybe suggest this: we all know he's spiraling at the moment, maybe someone who he meets and steadies him? I know he has that typical athlete fboy image. But maybe someone who he changes for and really helps him mentally as well. Seeing that change from an outside perspective from people in F1 or fans would be pretty cool. Just a thought that popped up! Thanks! Will be anxiously waiting for your next uploads!

Summary... He wasn’t looking for anything when he found you — just a diner, a coffee, a moment to breathe — but somehow you became everything. This is the story of how he fell, how you stayed, and how together you built something louder than the noise trying to tear you apart.

A/N: I hope this story does justice to your request! I wrote it like a book, so it has chapters within the story. Also, the story was so long that I had to split it into two parts because Tumblr would not allow me to post it. I had such a blast writing it, and I hope you all have just as much fun reading it. As always, thank you so much for being here, for supporting these little worlds we create, and for sharing your love with the characters too.

Happy reading, and have a beautiful day today!! 🖤✨

If you enjoyed the story and feel like supporting my writing, you can donate a strawberry matcha through my Ko-fi! 🍓🍵 (No pressure at all — your kindness is already everything.)

Like, comment, reblog, enjoy (:

DO NOT READ THIS PART BEFORE READING PART ONE!!

Chapter 14: Breakwater

The morning crept in slow and gold.

The lake shimmered in the early light, mist curling over the surface like a living thing.

Inside the cabin, it was warm — blankets kicked off, window cracked open, the air smelling like rain-soaked wood and coffee brewing somewhere down the road.

—

Lando woke up first.

Y/N was curled into his side on the small couch they’d crashed onto sometime after their second — or was it third? — kiss.

Her hand was pressed against his chest, fingers splayed over his heart like she was claiming it without even trying.

He didn’t move. Didn’t dare.

Just breathed her in. The softness of her hair against his jaw. The steady rhythm of her breathing.

The way the world outside could have burned to the ground and he wouldn’t have noticed because she was here.

His.

Finally.

—

She stirred after a while, blinking sleepily, her nose scrunching in a way that made him smile so wide it hurt.

"Mornin'," she mumbled, her voice rough with sleep.

"Hey," he whispered back, brushing his thumb gently over her knuckles.

For a moment, they just lay there — no rush, no noise, no weight.

Just them.

Y/N’s voice was still raspy when she teased, "Are we gonna pretend yesterday didn’t happen?"

Lando shook his head immediately. "Not a chance."

She smiled wider, her cheeks flushing pink, and burrowed closer into his side like she belonged there.

God, she did belong there.

—

They spent the morning wrapped around each other, half-tangled in blankets, trading lazy kisses and half-hearted arguments about who was responsible for getting breakfast.

"You drive," Y/N said, poking his ribs with a sly smile. "You’re the adult here."

"I’m not even qualified to own a plant," Lando protested, laughing as he caught her hand and laced their fingers together.

Eventually, they bundled up and wandered down to a tiny diner by the lake, the kind of place where the menus were handwritten and the waitress called everyone "sweetheart."

They sat across from each other, stealing bites of pancakes and grinning like idiots.

For a few precious hours — there was no McLaren. No cameras. No headlines.

Just this.

Just them.

Until the real world found them anyway.

—

It happened as they were walking back to the cabin, hand-in-hand, feet crunching over gravel.

Lando's phone buzzed. Then buzzed again. And again.

He ignored it at first — until it buzzed so violently it practically jumped out of his pocket.

He sighed, pulling it out — and froze.

Y/N noticed immediately.

"What’s wrong?" she asked, stepping closer, peering up at him.

Lando's jaw tightened as he tilted the screen so she could see.

Tweets. Instagram tags. News pings.

Photos.

Blurry at first — then clearer.

Them.

Leaving the diner last night. Laughing by the lake. Holding hands this morning.

The captions were already spiraling:

"New romance for Norris?" "Who is the mystery girl stealing Lando’s heart?" "Spotted: F1 star cozying up at hidden lakeside retreat."

Lando stuffed his phone back into his pocket like it burned him.

"You don’t have to do this," he said roughly, voice cracking a little. "You don’t have to stay."

Y/N just looked at him steady.

Sure.

She stepped even closer, slipping her fingers into his.

"Lando," she said softly, voice clear and unwavering, "I’m not here because it’s easy."

Her hand squeezed his once — firm, grounding.

"I’m here because it’s you."

And just like that — he knew.

No matter how high the waves got, no matter how loud the world screamed, no matter how messy it became —

They would fight for this.

Together.

———

Chapter 15: All the Noise, None of the Doubt

If you asked him, Lando would have said nothing changed.

Not really.

He still showed up for sim days and engineering meetings. Still suited up. Still pushed the limits. Still smiled for the cameras.

But something was different.

Not the way he drove — the way he lived.

The way he smiled wider when his phone buzzed. The way he laughed easier when he caught a glimpse of a photo Y/N sent him — some ridiculous thing, like a squirrel stealing a sandwich or her terrible attempt at latte art.

The way he counted the hours until he could see her again.

They carved out a world in the quiet spaces between all the noise.

Secret coffee dates. Late-night FaceTimes. Quick texts during media days

Soft mornings at the cabin when they could sneak away. Long car rides filled with bad music and even worse singing.

Tiny kisses stolen in parking lots. Fingers brushing under tables.

Nothing flashy. Nothing loud.

Just them.

Of course, the rest of the world wasn't blind.

At the factory, Max smirked as he caught Lando smiling down at his phone again.

"You’re disgusting," Max said, tossing a balled-up napkin at him.

Lando batted it away, not even pretending to hide the grin on his face.

"You’re just jealous," he shot back.

Max laughed. "Maybe. But I’m not the one getting meme’d into oblivion every time someone spots me looking like a lovesick idiot."

Lando flipped him off good-naturedly.

But later, alone in the simulator bay, phone screen glowing with a new picture of Y/N doodling all over his face in an old karting photo he sent her, he thought maybe he didn’t mind.

The media started circling too.

Soft at first. Little jabs in interviews.

"So, Lando, any truth to the rumors about a new girl?" "Someone special keeping you motivated this season?"

He ducked and weaved, smiling without answering, learning how to protect what mattered without lying.

They didn’t need to know. Not yet. Not when it was still this precious, still blooming in his hands.

But it was getting harder to keep their world untouched.

Photos slipped through sometimes — blurry ones of them at a gas station, a coffee shop, a grocery store.

Fans guessed. Fans speculated.

Some supported. Some didn't.

The noise was getting louder.

—

One night, they sat on the hood of his SUV under a wide, bruised sunset sky — the cabin just a small speck in the distance — splitting a bag of crisps between them.

Y/N leaned back on her hands, kicking her heels against the bumper.

"You know," she said lightly, "if you ever want to run... I’d go with you."

He turned to look at her, something sharp and warm catching in his throat.

"You serious?"

She nodded, smiling sideways at him.

"I’m not scared of the noise, Lando," she said. "But if it ever gets too loud for you... we’ll just find somewhere quieter."

He stared at her — this girl who had walked into his life on a rainy night with bad coffee and a soft voice — and realized that no matter how loud the world got, with her, there would always be a way back to silence.

To home.

To them.

—

He reached out, tangling their fingers together, resting their joined hands on the hood between them.

"I’m not running," he said quietly. "Not from this. Not from you."

She squeezed his hand, her smile small and sure.

"Good," she said. "Because you’re terrible at directions."

He laughed — a real, full laugh — and tugged her closer until she was tucked into his side.

And for the first time in a long time — maybe ever — Lando knew he wasn’t just surviving.

He was living.

With her.

———

Chapter 17: Our Little World

It wasn’t about hiding. Not really.

It was about protecting.

About keeping something beautiful just for themselves, tucked away where no cameras, no headlines, no strangers could touch it.

Their little world.

Their rules.

When they were apart — race weeks, sponsor events, the constant hum of everything — they stayed connected in the ways that mattered.

It became a routine without them even realizing it.

Late-night texts.

Y/N: Did you eat real food today or just Red Bull and regrets?

Lando: Pop-Tarts totally count as real food.

Y/N: Get a vegetable or I’m calling Max.

Lando: Terrifying. Ordering salad now.

Early morning FaceTimes.

"Hi," she’d say, hair a mess, eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Hi," he’d whisper back, already smiling just hearing her voice.

Sometimes they didn't even talk. Just kept the call open while she painted, while he packed, while they existed on opposite sides of the world but somehow closer than ever.

When they could steal days together — God, those days felt like breathing again.

—

Tiny traditions started to form:

Y/N leaving doodles tucked into his suitcase before he traveled. ("I better see this stuck to your laptop," she teased once, drawing a lopsided cartoon of him driving a spaceship.)

Lando slipping notes into the sketchbooks she left lying around. ("Your art’s better than any trophy," he scribbled once, messy and embarrassed but meaning every word.)

Sharing playlists. ("This song is you," he texted her once, sending a track that was all messy beats and golden chords.)

Movie nights where they talked over half the film, cuddled under a mountain of mismatched blankets, and fought about who stole the popcorn.

("You," Lando accused, mouth full. "Me?" Y/N gasped. "You’re inhaling it like you’ve never seen food before!")

They built a language only they spoke — inside jokes, stolen glances, silent conversations across crowded rooms.

—

But the world kept buzzing louder outside.

Photos kept surfacing. Speculation grew.

Y/N didn’t flinch. She teased him about it sometimes, flicking through tabloids at the grocery store.

"‘Lando Norris and Mystery Girl spotted looking cozy at Starbucks,’" she read aloud dramatically one day, showing him a grainy photo of them with frappuccinos.

He snorted. "That’s peak romance. Frappuccinos."

"You sure know how to spoil a girl," she said, nudging him.

He grinned, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles right there between the cereal and the canned soup aisle.

"I’ll buy you two next time," he whispered.

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away.

The world could shout all it wanted.

She knew where home was.

—

One night — late, after a brutal race weekend that left Lando physically exhausted and mentally shredded — they lay tangled together on the tiny couch in his Monaco apartment.

Y/N traced lazy circles over the back of his hand, her voice soft against the darkness.

"You know you don’t have to pretend with me, right?" she said.

He turned his head, watching her with tired, adoring eyes.

"I know," he said quietly. "You’re the only place I don’t have to."

She smiled — small, warm, breaking his heart a little more in the best way.

"You’re stuck with me, Norris," she teased, nose brushing his.

He kissed her gently — sweet and tired and so full of everything he couldn’t find the words for.

"Good," he whispered against her lips. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

And for now, that was enough.

Their little world held strong — soft, stubborn, untouchable.

For now.

———

Chapter 18: Say It Like You Mean It

It started with a headline.

Bigger this time. Louder.

Not whispers anymore — shouts.

"Is Lando Norris Losing Focus? Friends Fear New Romance May Be a Distraction."

And worse — comments. Speculation. Ugly words flung like stones.

They picked her apart — her looks, her job, her life — like she was nothing but an accessory to his downfall.

Lando saw it before Y/N did. His phone buzzing nonstop. His manager sending cautious texts. Max even texting him once:

Max:

You good, mate? Ignore the shit. You know whats’s real.

He barely read the rest. He couldn’t think straight.

He was supposed to protect her.

And now — they were using her name like a weapon.

—

He found her at his place, sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through a stack of his race gear he’d dumped there last week.

She looked up the second he slammed the door behind him, her smile fading when she saw his face.

"Lando?" she said, standing quickly. "What happened?"

He didn’t answer right away. Just crossed the room in three strides, pulling her into his arms like he needed to be sure she was still real.

"Lando," she said again, softer now, hands sliding up his back. "Talk to me."

He pressed his forehead against hers, breathing hard.

"They're saying shit," he muttered. "About you. About us."

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.

"I know," she said gently.

He blinked. "You know?"

She smiled — sad and strong all at once. "I’m not blind, Lan. I knew what I was signing up for."

His chest tightened painfully.

"I hate that it touches you," he said, voice rough. "I hate that I brought you into this."

"You didn’t bring me anywhere," she said. "I walked. I chose this."

"But you don’t deserve it," he whispered.

She squeezed his hand. "Neither do you."

—

An hour later, he sat in his car outside the McLaren building, staring at his phone, jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

His manager had sent another text.

PR Team: No need to comment. Stay quiet. Let it pass.

But Lando couldn’t.

Not this time.

He opened Twitter. Stared at the blinking cursor.

And typed.

@LandoNorris: You can say whatever you want about me. But leave her out of it. She’s the best thing that’s happened to me. End of story.

He hit post before he could second guess himself.

Then tossed the phone onto the passenger seat like it was on fire.

He didn't care about the fallout.

He cared about her.

—

When he got home, she was curled up on the couch, a blanket around her shoulders, flipping absently through a book she clearly wasn't reading.

He dropped onto the couch beside her, heart hammering.

She set the book down.

"You posted it," she said softly.

He nodded once, his throat too tight to speak.

She smiled — small, shaky — and climbed into his lap without hesitation, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I’m not going anywhere," she whispered against his ear.

He closed his eyes, burying his face in her hair.

"You better not," he whispered back.

Silence stretched between them — not uncomfortable. Just heavy. Full.

"I love you," Lando said, the words tumbling out — messy, raw, desperate. "I love you so much it scares the hell out of me."

She pulled back, cupping his face in her hands.

"Good," she said, smiling through the tears gathering in her eyes. "Because I love you too, you idiot."

He laughed — choked and wrecked — and kissed her like he was drowning.

And maybe he was.

But if he was going under — he was taking her with him.

Together.

Always.

———

Chapter 19: The Afterglow and the Storm

The first few days after saying "I love you" felt like living inside a bubble.

Warm. Safe. Weightless.

They clung to each other like kids hiding under a blanket fort, pretending the real world couldn’t reach them.

—

Late one night, lying tangled together in his bed, Y/N pressed her nose into his neck and mumbled sleepily,

"Are we gonna talk about it?"

Lando smiled into her hair. "Talk about what?"

"You know," she said, poking his ribs, "the whole 'I love you' bomb you dropped on me."

He laughed, grabbing her hand and bringing it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

"I regret nothing," he said.

She lifted her head just enough to glare playfully at him.

"You didn’t even give me time to process."

"You kissed me back!" he protested.

"I panicked!" she teased, laughing.

He rolled them over, pinning her gently to the bed with a grin.

"Say it again," he murmured, brushing her hair back from her forehead.

She pretended to think about it, tapping her chin dramatically.

"Hmm... I love—"

He leaned closer.

"You," she finished, nose bumping his.

He kissed her — soft and slow and smiling the whole time.

"Best panic attack ever," he whispered against her mouth.

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Idiot."

"Yours," he said.

"Mine," she agreed.

Always.

—

But outside the walls they built, the world kept spinning.

And not all of it was kind.

—

Another headline dropped the following week.

This time nastier. Sharper.

"Lando’s Focus in Question Again: Sources Say Romance Is a ‘Major Distraction’ for McLaren’s Golden Boy."

And worse — an anonymous "source" claiming Lando was “changing” — not as serious, not as hungry.

It was bullshit.

Lando knew it. The people who mattered knew it.

But still — it stung.

—

He found her sitting on the balcony that night, sketchbook in her lap, a cup of tea cooling by her side.

She looked up when he slid the door open.

"Hey," she said softly. "I saw."

He sank down onto the chair beside her, rubbing his hands over his face.

"You don’t have to keep doing this," he muttered.

"Doing what?"

"Dealing with the fallout," he said, voice tight. "It’s not fair to you."

She shut the sketchbook and set it aside.

"Lando," she said gently, "I don’t love you because it’s easy."

He looked up, heart aching.

"I love you because you’re the best thing that ever happened to me," she continued. "Even when it’s messy. Especially then."

He blinked hard, swallowing the lump rising in his throat.

"You’re sure?" he asked, voice cracking just a little.

She smiled — small, fierce, beautiful.

"Positive," she said. "Now shut up and come here."

He crossed the distance between them without hesitation, letting her pull him into her arms.

They sat there — curled up together under the dark sky, the world screaming beyond their little balcony, but the noise unable to touch them.

Not when they had each other.

Not when they had something this real.

—

Later, scrolling through his phone before bed, Lando grinned when he saw her latest text pop up.

Y/N: Tomorrow = karting rematch. No excuses, Norris. Prepare to lose.

Lando: You’re dreaming.

Y/N: I'm building a trophy shelf.

Lando: You're delusional. I love you.

Y/N: Love you more.

He turned off the screen, smiling into the darkness, and fell asleep with her heartbeat steady against his ribs.

And for once — the noise didn’t win.

They did.

———

Chapter 20: A Quiet Place, A Loud World

Their little world kept growing.

Not hidden. Not ashamed.

Just... theirs.

—

Late one night, curled up together on the battered old couch that had somehow become more home than anywhere else, Y/N pressed her cheek to Lando’s chest and whispered,

"Tell me a secret."

He smiled into her hair.

"Like what?"

"Like... something no one else knows."

He thought about it for a minute. Then said, "I used to dream about quitting."

She lifted her head, surprised.

"Quitting what?"

"All of it," he said softly. "The racing. The noise. The expectations. When it got bad, I used to think about just... disappearing."

Her eyes softened, her hand sliding up to cup his cheek.

"But you didn’t," she said.

"No," he said. "Because... because maybe I was waiting for something better to find me."

He looked at her — eyes wide, vulnerable, raw.

"And then you showed up," he whispered.

Her throat tightened painfully.

"I love you," she breathed, blinking back tears.

He smiled — small and broken and whole all at once.

"I love you more," he said.

—

They started talking about futures after that.

Not big sweeping plans. Just... dreams.

"What if we lived somewhere quiet?" Y/N said one night, curled into his side, tracing invisible lines over his chest. "A little house. A dog. Maybe a cat if you stop pretending to be allergic."

"I’m definitely allergic," he mumbled, half-asleep.

"Liar."

"Fine," he grinned. "But only if I get to name it."

"Deal," she said, laughing. "But I get veto power."

"Deal," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

They talked about road trips across Europe. Late-night drives with no destination. Sunday mornings spent fighting over who had to make pancakes.

It wasn’t if anymore.

It was when.

But the world wasn’t content to stay quiet forever.

The invitation arrived three days later.

McLaren Gala. Mandatory Appearance. Formal Attire Required.

An event. A spotlight. A battlefield.

And this time — they couldn’t hide.

—

They talked about it that night, sitting cross-legged on the bed, laptops open, tabs pulled up of tux rentals and dresses she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel comfortable wearing.

"You don't have to come," Lando said quietly, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. "I’ll cover for you. Say you're sick. Say you’re busy. I don’t care."

Y/N closed her laptop and looked at him.

"Lando," she said firmly. "I'm not hiding. Not if you're not."

He searched her face, something wild and terrified and hopeful tangled in his eyes.

"You’re sure?" he whispered.

She reached across the bed, threading their fingers together.

"I’m sure," she said.

A beat of silence.

Then she smiled — wide, mischievous, a little shaky.

"But if we’re doing this," she said, "we’re doing it properly."

He laughed, the sound cracking open something deep inside him.

"Meaning...?"

"Meaning we’re gonna look so good they’ll have no choice but to talk about how lucky you are," she said, sticking out her tongue.

He lunged forward, tackling her onto the bed, both of them laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe.

The night of the gala, he saw her standing at the top of the hotel stairs — black dress hugging her curves, hair swept up, eyes catching the light like stars.

She was breathtaking.

Terrifyingly, heartbreakingly beautiful.

He met her at the bottom of the stairs, taking her hand in his without hesitation.

"You ready?" he whispered.

Y/N squeezed his hand once, sure and steady.

"With you?" she said. "Always."

—

The cameras exploded the second they stepped onto the carpet.

Flashes. Shouts. Questions.

But he didn’t let go of her hand.

Not once.

Not when the world stared. Not when people whispered.

He kept her close — proud, steady, unapologetic.

And when they finally slipped inside, breathless and laughing, he pulled her into a shadowed corner and cupped her face in both hands.

"You’re the bravest person I know," he whispered.

"You make it easy," she whispered back.

He kissed her, soft and sure, and if anyone caught it on camera, he didn’t care.

Let them see.

Let them know.

This was real. This was forever.

And nothing was going to tear it apart.

———

Chapter 21: The Space Between Heartbeats

They didn’t plan it.

They just... needed it.

Needed to get away. Needed a place where they weren’t Lando Norris and the girl everyone was watching. Where they could just be Lando and Y/N.

So they ran.

—

They packed the bare minimum — jeans, hoodies, sunglasses, battered sneakers — and drove hours out of the city until the world thinned out around them.

Fields. Mountains. Empty roads.

The cabin was tiny. Hidden in a tangle of trees, overlooking a glassy stretch of river.

Perfect.

Untouchable.

The kind of place where no one knew their names.

—

The first night, they sat on the porch, legs tangled together under a shared blanket, the sky spilling stars across the darkness.

Y/N leaned against him, her voice sleepy but sure.

"I missed this," she murmured.

He kissed the top of her head. "Me too."

"You know," she said after a long pause, "sometimes it feels like the rest of the world... doesn’t matter here."

He smiled into her hair. "That’s because it doesn’t."

—

Inside, the cabin smelled like woodsmoke and old books.

They moved around each other easily — brushing teeth side by side at the creaky sink, arguing half-heartedly over which side of the bed was "better" (it was the left, obviously, and Y/N won, obviously).

No makeup. No cameras. No rules.

Just them.

—

It happened quietly.

Softly.

Not rushed. Not planned.

—

Lando brushed her hair back from her face as they lay sprawled across the bed, the old mattress squeaking under their weight.

She smiled up at him, lazy and beautiful, and whispered, "What are you thinking?"

He ran his thumb gently along her jawline.

"That I’m really fucking lucky," he said.

Her smile faltered — not because she doubted it, but because sometimes love still felt too big to hold.

"You know you don’t have to say that, right?" she said quietly.

He frowned, shifting closer.

"I’m not saying it because I have to," he said. "I’m saying it because it's true."

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing him in.

When she opened them again, they were shining.

"I love you," she whispered, voice cracking.

"I love you too," he said instantly, like breathing.

He kissed her — slow, careful — and she kissed him back like she was anchoring herself to the only thing that had ever felt steady.

—

Clothes fell away in clumsy, breathless pieces.

Laughter slipped between kisses.

Fingers shook a little — not from nerves, but from how much it meant.

Every touch said it louder than words ever could:

I'm here. I'm yours. I'm not going anywhere.

When he finally sank into her, it wasn’t frantic or desperate.

It was slow. Reverent. Real.

Their foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling.

No noise but the soft rustle of sheets and the quiet, broken whispers they shared between kisses.

—

"You're everything," he breathed against her skin.

She pressed her mouth to his shoulder, holding on tighter.

"So are you," she whispered back.

—

Later, tangled in the sheets, hearts still pounding, Y/N pressed her fingers over the steady thud of his pulse.

"The world can get louder," she said softly, tracing a circle over his chest. "I don’t care."

Lando caught her hand in his, kissed her knuckles.

"Let it," he said. "We already won."

Outside, the river whispered over stones. The trees creaked and sighed.

Inside — only the space between heartbeats.

Only them.

———

Chapter 22: Borrowed Time

The next morning felt like waking up inside a dream.

Sunlight spilled across the bed in soft puddles, the air cool and crisp through the cracked window.

Y/N stirred first, her arm thrown haphazardly across Lando’s stomach, her face smushed into his chest.

He was already awake, just... watching her. Committing every little detail to memory. The way her nose scrunched when the breeze hit her toes. The way her lips parted slightly, breath slow and even.

He never wanted to forget this.

Eventually, she cracked one eye open.

"You’re staring," she mumbled, voice raspy from sleep.

"Can you blame me?" he said, grinning.

She groaned and buried her face further into his chest.

"Gross," she said. "You're so gross."

He laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"You love it."

"I tolerate it," she said, but he could hear the smile in her voice.

They stayed like that — tangled up, half-asleep — until their stomachs rumbled in unison.

Y/N lifted her head, mock serious.

"Pancakes?" she asked.

He nodded solemnly. "It’s the only way."

—

They destroyed the tiny cabin kitchen together.

Flour everywhere. Eggshells in the sink. Syrup dripping down the counter.

Lando flipped a pancake so dramatically it hit the ceiling.

"LAN," she shrieked, laughing so hard she doubled over.

"Ten out of ten landing!" he yelled, throwing his arms up like an Olympic gymnast.

"You’re banned," she said, snatching the spatula from him.

He just grinned and stole a kiss while she was distracted, syrupy fingers slipping against her waist.

They ate standing up, giggling, licking syrup off their hands, stealing bites from each other’s plates.

It was stupid. It was messy.

It was perfect.

But reality doesn’t wait forever.

—

Later that afternoon, as they lounged lazily on the porch, Lando’s phone buzzed against the wood.

He ignored it at first.

Then a second buzz. A third.

Y/N reached over, grabbing it before he could.

"Who's spamming you?" she teased, pretending to squint at the screen.

Her smile faded.

"Lando," she said quietly, holding the phone out to him.

He took it, frowning.

A string of notifications.

Emails. Texts.

His PR team. Zak. Even a few drivers.

New headlines splashed across the top:

"Norris Romance Heating Up: Is the Pressure Getting to McLaren’s Star?" "Sources Suggest New Relationship May Threaten 2026 Contract Negotiations."

Beneath it, pictures — Him and Y/N at the gala. Holding hands. Laughing.

Frozen in a thousand flashbulbs.

Turned into clickbait.

—

He set the phone down carefully, like it might bite him.

Y/N didn't say anything right away.

Just scooted closer, resting her head against his shoulder.

"You’re gonna have to deal with this forever, aren’t you?" she said quietly.

He sighed, staring out at the river.

"Yeah."

A long beat of silence.

Then:

"You don’t regret it, do you?" she asked, so softly he barely heard her.

He turned immediately, cupping her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him.

"Not for a single second," he said fiercely. "I’d choose you every damn time."

Her eyes softened, filling with tears she didn’t try to hide.

"Good," she whispered. "Because I’d choose you too."

—

They sat there as the sun dipped lower — the world buzzing just outside the treeline, the future heavy but waiting.

Not easy.

Not quiet.

But together.

And that was enough.

———

Chapter 23: Choosing Forever

It wasn’t a decision they made overnight.

It wasn’t made with big speeches or ultimatums.

It happened like everything else between them — quietly, naturally, inevitably.

Y/N sat on the floor of Lando’s apartment, surrounded by half-packed boxes, holding up one of his old race suits like it was a sacred artifact.

"You’re seriously keeping this?" she teased, grinning.

"That’s vintage," he said, grabbing it from her hands and pressing it to his chest like a wounded soldier. "Historical."

She laughed, tossing a hoodie at his head.

"Fine. But it’s going in the 'shrine' closet."

He grinned, tackling her onto the pile of clothes, both of them laughing too hard to breathe.

They were doing it.

Building a real life. Moving in together.

Not because they had to. Not because the world expected it.

Because it was the next right thing.

Because home wasn’t a place anymore.

It was each other.

Of course, the world didn’t exactly make it easy.

The pressure didn’t stop.

If anything, it grew sharper.

A headline broke two days later:

"Sources Inside McLaren Concerned About Norris’ Focus Heading into 2026."

An anonymous quote — someone "close to the team" saying Lando’s relationship was a "distraction."

That he was "different."

That he was "softer."

The whispers turned into noise. The pressure turned into weight.

Team meetings got tense. Fans speculated. Media circled like vultures.

He got the call late one night.

Zak.

Serious. Careful.

"Lando," Zak said, voice crackling through the speaker, "we need you focused. The board's watching everything right now."

"I am focused," Lando said, jaw tight.

"You need to look focused too," Zak said. "Publicly. Especially now."

Translation: Choose carefully. Choose wisely.

Choose.

—

He hung up and found Y/N sitting on the couch, scrolling through a ridiculous meme account she swore kept her sane.

She looked up immediately.

"Bad?"

He didn’t answer. Just crossed the room and dropped onto the couch beside her, burying his face in her shoulder.

She ran her fingers through his curls, silent, steady.

"You don’t have to say anything," she whispered.

He lifted his head, heart pounding.

"I want to," he said.

He cupped her face in both hands, holding her like she might disappear if he let go.

"I choose you," he said fiercely. "Over the noise. Over the pressure. Over everything."

Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over before she could stop them.

"I choose you too," she whispered back.

And that was it.

Not a flashy decision. Not a press release.

Just two people choosing each other again and again and again — no matter how loud the world got.

———

Chapter 24: Win or Lose, It's You

The race weekend was brutal before it even began.

Everywhere Lando turned — reporters. Questions. Speculation.

"Has your relationship impacted your performance?" "Is the pressure getting to you?" "Is this the distraction McLaren was worried about?"

He handled it. He smiled. He answered carefully.

But inside, a knot twisted tighter and tighter with every word.

—

Y/N stayed out of the spotlight, like they agreed.

She didn’t want to make it harder. Didn't want to become another headline.

But she was there — quiet, steady, just beyond the paddock fences.

He caught glimpses of her between practice sessions — sitting cross-legged on the grass, sketchbook open in her lap, pretending not to watch his every move.

Their eyes would meet.

She'd smile — small, sure, like a lighthouse through the storm.

He'd breathe again.

—

On race day, it rained.

Not a drizzle. A full, chaotic downpour.

The track slick. The sky angry. The world holding its breath.

It was the kind of race that chewed up rookies and spat out veterans.

Every mistake magnified.

Every move scrutinized.

And Lando — Lando drove like his heart was on fire.

Not reckless. Not desperate.

Alive.

Sure.

—

Midway through, after a pit stop from hell, he dropped three places.

The team buzzed in his ear.

"Focus, Lando. You can still fight back."

He closed his eyes for half a second — saw her sitting in the rain, soaked but smiling, refusing to leave — and opened them with new clarity.

For her.

For them.

For himself.

He fought his way back — aggressive but smart, carving through the spray and the chaos.

Lap by lap. Corner by corner.

Until — P2.

Not the win.

Not the trophy.

But victory all the same.

—

After the checkered flag, soaked to the bone and shaking from adrenaline, he found her waiting by the barriers.

No cameras. No microphones.

Just her.

Y/N pushed the wet hair out of his eyes and smiled.

"You," she said, cupping his face, voice breaking, "you were incredible."

He laughed — half a sob, half a grin — and pulled her into a hug so fierce it lifted her off her feet.

"You’re my win," he whispered into her ear.

"And you’re mine," she whispered back.

They stood there — soaked. Laughing. Crying.

And for once, it wasn’t about headlines.

It wasn’t about contracts.

It was about this.

Them.

The only finish line that ever mattered.

———

Chapter 25: No More Hiding

The photos hit social media within minutes.

Not official portraits. Not staged PR shots.

Someone caught it — Lando, still dripping from the rain, still in his race suit, wrapping his arms around Y/N outside the paddock barriers, burying his face against her neck like the cameras didn’t even exist.

And for the first time — they didn’t care.

They didn’t flinch.

They didn’t run.

—

The internet exploded.

"Lando Norris and his girl: Paddock’s New Power Couple!" "Norris shows where his heart really is after stormy podium finish." "Real ones only: Lando and Y/N melt fans’ hearts after emotional race day."

The world finally saw it — not rumors. Not scandals.

Love. Real. Raw. Loud.

And they didn’t apologize for it.

—

The next day, Y/N sat beside him during a press day — quiet, off to the side, thumbing through a worn book while he fielded questions.

A journalist finally asked it straight:

"Lando, care to comment on the... touching moment we all saw after the race?"

He leaned into the microphone without hesitation.

"No comment," he said at first — then paused, glancing toward where Y/N sat curled up in a hoodie three sizes too big.

He smiled — wide, wrecked, unapologetic.

"Actually... yeah," he said.

He adjusted the mic slightly, the entire room hanging on his every word.

"I’m just lucky she puts up with me," he said, voice steady. "That’s all there is to it."

The reporters laughed. Cameras clicked.

But Y/N knew — because he looked at her when he said it — it wasn’t a joke.

It was the truth.

Simple. Unshakable.

Them.

—

Later, when they escaped the crowd and crashed onto the couch of his hotel room, Lando tugged her against him, pressing his mouth to the side of her head.

"No more hiding," he murmured.

Y/N smiled against his shoulder.

"Weren't hiding anyway," she whispered.

He laughed softly.

"No," he agreed. "We were just... waiting."

"For what?" she teased.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.

"For the right person," he said simply.

Her heart cracked wide open in the best way.

"I guess we both won," she whispered.

He kissed her — soft, sure, forever.

And in that kiss was every promise they didn’t have to say out loud.

Because they already knew.

Together.

Always.

No matter what.

———

Epilogue: A Place to Land

Six months later.

The apartment was still a work in progress.

Half-finished photo walls. Plants that survived only because Y/N whispered threats at them. Lando’s old race suits shoved into the back of closets she was slowly conquering.

It wasn’t perfect.

It was home.

—

Sunday morning spilled sunlight across the kitchen, dust motes dancing lazily in the air.

Y/N leaned against the counter, sipping coffee out of a chipped mug Lando had refused to throw away because it "had character."

She wore one of his old shirts — faded, too big, sleeves slipping past her elbows.

Lando shuffled in a few minutes later, hair messy, sweatpants low on his hips, yawning like he hadn't slept in weeks.

"You look like death," Y/N said cheerfully, raising her mug in greeting.

He flipped her off half-heartedly and stole the rest of her coffee with a grin.

"Morning, sunshine," he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She snorted, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

"Big day," she teased.

He groaned dramatically.

"Don't remind me."

They had a dinner to attend later — something small, just close friends and family — to celebrate his latest podium.

A real, hard-fought one.

The first one after everything — after the storm, after the noise, after choosing each other loud and proud.

Y/N set her mug down and looped her arms around his neck, rocking them gently side to side.

"You nervous?" she asked.

He shrugged, nuzzling into her shoulder.

"Not about the dinner," he said quietly.

She pulled back just enough to look at him.

"But about...?"

He smiled — that small, shy, completely wrecked-by-love smile that still undid her every time.

"About asking you something later," he said.

Her stomach flipped, heart slamming against her ribs.

She opened her mouth — then closed it.

Then opened it again.

"Lando," she breathed, hands tightening around his hoodie, "if you’re asking what I think you’re asking... you already know the answer."

He kissed her — soft and slow and sure.

"I was hoping you’d say that," he whispered against her lips.

Later, tucked into the chaos of their tiny, perfect apartment, a small velvet box sat hidden at the back of a kitchen drawer.

He wasn’t nervous about it.

Not really.

Because some things — the real things — don't need grand gestures or fireworks or perfect timing.

They just need a place to land.

And he had found his.

Right here. Right now. With her.

Forever.

—

One year later.

The living room was a mess.

Half-unpacked boxes. A dog barking at a rogue sock on the floor. Lando wrestling with a flat-pack bookshelf like it had personally insulted him.

Y/N leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a stupid grin pulling at her mouth.

"You know," she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully, "most people read the instructions."

Lando looked up, hair sticking out wildly, an allen key clutched between his teeth.

"Instructions are for quitters," he mumbled around it.

She snorted, walking over and plucking the key from his mouth.

"You," she said, dropping a kiss onto his forehead, "are a menace."

"And you," he said, grabbing her wrist and tugging her into his lap with a dramatic grunt, "love it."

She laughed, arms wrapping around his neck automatically.

"You’re lucky you’re cute," she teased.

He grinned — wide, wrecked, unashamed.

"You’re stuck with me, remember?" he said.

"Wouldn’t have it any other way," she said, resting her forehead against his.

—

The dog barked again — a yappy, ridiculous sound — and Lando groaned.

"You wanted a dog," he reminded her.

"You named him Max!" she shot back, laughing.

"It was that or Toto," he shrugged.

She laughed harder, burying her face in his neck.

"You’re an idiot," she whispered, affection bleeding through every word.

"Yours," he said.

"Mine," she agreed.

Always.

—

Outside, the world spun on — headlines, races, flights, pressure.

Inside, they built a life in stolen moments. Messy. Perfect.

A home with fingerprints on the walls, dog hair on the couch, and love tucked into every corner.

A place to land.

Always.

———

The end! :’)

[yvesdot]

80+ PROTESTERS VIOLENTLY ARRESTED AT UCSC

PROTESTERS ARE ASKING ALUMNI TO PARTICIPATE IN AN EMAIL ZAP: bit.ly/zap-ucsc

& FOR EVERYONE TO DONATE TO THEIR BAIL FUND: (Venmo) pizza_party_1312

[ID: UCSC students waving Palestinian flags and holding protest signs at the base of campus. /ID]

Longer write-up based on personal knowledge, news articles, and multiple direct sources below.

****

For roughly a month, UCSC administrators, including chancellor Cynthia Larive, have been essentially politely asking protesters at the pro-Palestine encampment to "voluntarily disband." I was told personally by members of the encampment that among the demands they were given by the administration, two were 1) to guarantee Larive's safety, in part by not allowing any calls for violence against her, and 2) not to use images of her to make memes. "They specifically said memes," said the protester I spoke to. Additionally, protesters were told the use of the word "genocide" in a public statement by UCSC admin was "off the table."

The consensus among organizers appeared to be that Larive was vainly hoping to "wait [them] out," knowing she was in a no-win scenario: call the police and risk looking evil, or let the encampment stay and risk looking toothless. (It was clear which side she leaned towards.) Additionally, @kiegotakami mentioned hearing from a source at the department that "none of the local cops want the public scrutiny nor do they care abt the encampment so they’ve been avoiding it."

Protesters escalated by first blocking the entrance/s to campus temporarily, then moving their encampment down to the base of campus, beginning an academic worker strike on Monday 5/20, and finally, as of Tuesday 5/28, blockading both campus entrances indefinitely. Classes moved online. There was a dispute as to whether an ambulance was blocked from entering campus to help a child who was choking; protesters maintain that it was police, not them, who formed an obstacle. Larive later claimed again that it was the protesters.

(Larive also characterized SJP's demand that UCSC cut ties with specifically pro-Israel groups as "demand[ing] that we end relationships with organizations that support our Jewish students and funders that support important student success work and happen to be Jewish organizations." (emphasis mine) SJP did not call for the disbanding of all Jewish groups, not even all Zionist ones. They singled out the ones which list furthering Zionism in their mission statements. The conflation of holding a specific political opinion with being Jewish generally is an unacceptably racist one that echoes the "dual loyalty" myth.)

After protesters refused to disband their encampment at the base of campus, 100+ police officers from Eureka, San Francisco, Watsonville, Berkeley, San Mateo, San Jose, Santa Clara, and Riverside, as well as the California Highway Patrol, slowly dismantled the blockade, bulldozed the encampment, and arrested anywhere from 80-100+ people. (Numerous student/protester/organizer sources list more than 100 arrested, as well as greater numbers of police.) The bulk of the conflict occurred between 12 and 9 AM on Friday 5/31 morning, marking the 31st day and a full month of the protest.

Students present at the demonstration say the police were outfitted in riot gear and focused their abuse immediately and especially on women of color at the encampment. Students were "stabbed... in the stomach" with batons, hard enough that some vomited. One was covered in a spit hood for saying the cops' "glasses looked stupid," and thrown to the ground hard enough to give him a concussion.

From an anonymous source:

We were thrown to the ground and dragged along the concrete. Our faces were clawed at, masks were ripped from our faces, helmets were torn from our heads so the straps dug into our throats, and our eyes were gouged out. Several of the women had their clothes ripped off, one particular trans comrade who was pleading for the cops to have any form of humanity, had “trick” screamed at her before her skirt was ripped off and she was thrown to the ground. All the while, they laughed. Snickering as people were beaten unconscious. After each one of us was detained, the police took selfies with us, grinning over their trophy. We were shoved into buses and vans where they blared music that rattled the cages we were thrown into until we couldn’t think. This went on for hours. In one of the buses, people were told to go to the bathroom on the bottom staircase. We were organized by sex (not gender) and the cops called non-binary people “x-rays” for the x identification on their license. First, it was the county jail, then a university parking lot, then a university building. The cops, with their hands on their pistols, shouted for us all to sit down. We all sat with our wrists tied behind our backs, the marks of which I still have on my arms a day later. The cops proceeded to play the “good guy” act as though all of us weren’t covered in bruises inflicted by them just hours earlier. Our restraints were cut, and they slowly called us by name. After several hours, my name was called. I was banned from school for the rest of the year, given a court date, and sent out like none of that had just happened.

Despite the brutality, protesters were back at the base of campus by the end of the day on Friday. Morale appears largely unshaken, and (despite bots brigading r/UCSC) student support across online and in-person spaces is at a high.

Some students were asked by KSBW about their arrests. “The people in Palestine are going through far worse than a citation," said Aydan Beavers. "So yeah, I believe it was worth it."

****

Once again, students are asking alumni to support them in an email zap at bit.ly/zap-ucsc, and for everyone to please donate to their bail fund, Venmo @/pizza_party_1312.

Sources: [Sentinel] [KSBW] [SJP Instagram] as well as multiple anonymous private sources.

[scarletwinterxx]

the apartments we shared - yoon jeonghan imagine

hellooo ~ i had some free time so here i am😊

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You never thought you’d see him again.

Not like this, anyway.

The call came a week ago. A gruff, emotionless voice on the other end.

Jeonghan.

His name alone was enough to send a wave of emotions crashing over you, emotions you thought you’d locked away.

“I need you to come by next weekend,” he said, after a brief, awkward silence

“For what?” you asked, trying to keep your tone neutral, though your grip on the phone tightened

“The lease. They need both of our signatures since it’s a joint agreement.”

Right. The apartment. The one that had once been your shared sanctuary, filled with late-night conversations and lazy mornings. Now it was just another loose end to tie up.

“Fine. When?”

“Saturday. Noon.”

And that was it. No pleasantries. No apologies. Just business. Typical Jeonghan.

Or, at least, the Jeonghan he became after everything fell apart.

Mingyu insisted on driving you that Saturday, despite your protests.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, peering over the steering wheel with that concerned puppy-dog look he always gave you when he didn’t believe a word you said.

“I’m good”

“You’re acting like you’re fine, but I know you’re not,” he said, glancing over at you as you fidgeted with the strap of your bag

“I am fine,” you insisted, staring out the window

Mingyu sighed. “You’ve been a wreck all week. Don’t lie to me. You’re not over him.”

You turned to him, your eyes narrowing. “That’s not true. I’m doing fine.”

“Sure,” Mingyu replied, unconvinced. “But just in case, if he so much as looks at you the wrong way, call me. I’ll come in and punch him in that smug face of his.”

You let out a half-hearted laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe. But I’m serious.” He parked the car and turned to you, his expression softening. “Look, I just don’t want you to come out of this even more hurt. Be careful, okay?”

You nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the car

The moment you walked in, it hit you. The faint scent of lavender from the air freshener he insisted on using, the familiar arrangement of furniture you once picked out together.

And there he was, standing near the kitchen counter, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.

He looked the same and yet different. His hair was longer, brushing against his cheekbones, and his posture seemed more guarded, as though he was bracing himself for something.

“You’re late,” he said, his voice flat,

“Traffic,” you lied, though you’d been sitting in Mingyu’s car for ten minutes, trying to summon the courage to walk in.

He gestured toward the table. “Let’s just get this over with.”

You swallowed hard, sitting down across from him. The table felt like a chasm between you, one filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

You picked up the pen and scanned the document, signing your name with quick, decisive strokes.

“Your turn,” you said, pushing the papers toward him

He picked up the pen but hesitated, his fingers tightening around it. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice quieter now

You blinked, taken aback. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a brief moment, you saw something flicker in his eyes.

Regret, maybe, or longing.

But it was gone as quickly as it came.

“No reason,” he muttered, signing his name and sliding the papers back to you

As you collected your things, you couldn’t help but blurt out, “Why didn’t you just send these through the landlord? Why call me?”

He froze, his hand lingering on the edge of the table. “Figured it’d be faster this way.”

“Faster,” you repeated, your voice laced with bitterness. “Right.”

And with that, you walked out, the sound of the door closing behind you echoing in your chest.

You walked out of that apartment feeling more hollow than you expected. Mingyu was waiting for you outside, leaning against the car with a knowing look.

“Well?”

“Done,” you said simply, sliding into the passenger seat

“That’s it?” Mingyu pressed, eyebrows raised

“What else did you expect?” you snapped, feeling the weight of his gaze.

“I don’t know—maybe something real? Did he even say anything?”

“No.”

Mingyu sighed deeply but didn’t push further, starting the car in silence.

Later that evening, Jeonghan found himself sitting in Seungcheol’s apartment, nursing a can of beer. Seungcheol was sprawled out on the couch across from him, his arms crossed, a disapproving frown etched onto his face.

“You’re an idiot,” Seungcheol said bluntly

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “Nice to see you too.”

“No, I’m serious. You saw her today, didn’t you?”

Jeonghan took a sip of his beer, avoiding his best friend’s gaze.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“And nothing. We signed the papers. It’s done.”

Seungcheol let out a frustrated groan, sitting up. “You can’t keep doing this, man. You can’t keep pretending like you don’t care.”

“It’s not that simple, Seungcheol.”

“Isn’t it? You broke up with her because you thought she’d be better off without you. Fine. Stupid reason, but fine. But do you really think she’s better off now? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re both miserable.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Jeonghan muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“And now?” Seungcheol pressed, leaning forward. “What do you think now?”

Jeonghan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared down at the beer in his hand, his thoughts a jumbled mess. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally. “I don’t know if I can fix it.”

“Of course you can,” Seungcheol said, his tone softening. “But only if you stop being a coward and actually talk to her. Tell her the truth. Tell her how you feel.”

Jeonghan looked up at his friend, doubt and hope warring in his eyes. “You think she’d even listen?”

Seungcheol smirked. “She loved you once, didn’t she? That doesn’t just go away.”

A week later, Jeonghan finally worked up the courage to text you. His message was simple, almost tentative, yet it carried the weight of everything he had left unsaid.

Jeonghan: “Can we talk?”

You stared at the screen for what felt like forever, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. A dozen responses ran through your mind, but none of them felt right.

Finally, you typed back, trying to mask the emotions threatening to surface.

You: “What’s there to talk about?”

His response came almost instantly, as though he had been waiting for yours.

Jeonghan: “Everything.”

You told yourself you shouldn’t go. That it wouldn’t change anything. But against your better judgment, you agreed to meet him. He chose the café where you had your first date—an unmistakable choice that sent a pang through your chest. Did he still remember the way he held your hand across that very table, the way he laughed when you nervously spilled your coffee?

When you arrived, he was already there, sitting at a corner table with a coffee in front of him. His hair, longer now, fell into his eyes as he glanced up and met your gaze. He stood quickly, his nervous energy radiating across the room.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice careful, as if afraid he might scare you off.

“Hi,” you replied, sitting across from him and clasping your hands together tightly on the table.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was thick with tension, memories hanging unspoken in the space between.

“Thanks for coming,” he finally said, breaking the silence. He ran a hand through his hair, a habit you recognized from years of knowing him. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Why am I here, Jeonghan?” you asked, your tone more impatient than you intended. “What do you want?”

He flinched slightly but didn’t back down.

“I wanted to see you. To say what I should have said months ago.”

“And what’s that?” You raised an eyebrow

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in him in a long time. “I made a mistake. Breaking up with you—it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

“You don’t get to say that now. Not after everything.”

“I know,” he said quickly, his voice tinged with desperation. “And I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. But I need you to know the truth. I thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought… I don’t know, I thought I was holding you back. That you deserved more than me. And instead of talking to you about it, I ran. Like a coward.”

Your throat tightened as his words sank in. “You decided for me,” you said, your voice trembling. “You didn’t even give me a choice. You just left.”

His face fell, the guilt in his eyes almost too much to bear. “I know. And I hate myself for it every day. I thought I was protecting you, but I was just selfish. I didn’t want you to resent me for holding you back someday. But I see now that all I did was hurt you... and myself.”

You looked away, blinking back the sting of tears. “

You don’t get to just come back and say that like it fixes everything. Like it erases the months I spent trying to figure out what I did wrong.”

“I’m not trying to erase anything,” he said, leaning forward, his voice cracking. “I know I can’t. I just… I couldn’t stay silent anymore. I couldn’t keep pretending I’m okay without you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek despite your best efforts to stay composed. You quickly wiped it away, but he noticed. “Why now?” you asked. “Why are you saying this now?”

He hesitated, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “Because I can’t live like this anymore. Seungcheol’s been on my case for months, telling me I’m an idiot for letting you go. And he’s right. I am an idiot. But I’m also the idiot who loves you—still. Always.”

His confession hung in the air, raw and unguarded. You searched his face, looking for any sign that he wasn’t being sincere, but all you saw was the Jeonghan you used to know. The one who made you laugh until your sides hurt, who memorized your coffee order, who kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “You broke me, Jeonghan.”

His face crumpled, and he reached across the table, hesitating before his hand hovered over yours. “I know. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that you can. If you let me. Please, just let me try.”

The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, and you covered your face with your hands. For a long moment, you couldn’t speak, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket. When you finally looked up, his expression was one of pure hope, tempered by fear.

“What if we’re just setting ourselves up to fail again?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“We won’t,” he said firmly. “Because I’ve learned what it’s like to lose you, and I’m never making that mistake again.”

You let out a shaky breath, your heart warring with your mind. Every logical part of you screamed to walk away, to protect yourself from more heartbreak. But then you looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the man you fell in love with, the man who was baring his soul to you.

Slowly, you nodded. “Okay. I’ll give you a chance. But don’t waste it.”

His face broke into a smile, the kind you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. “I won’t. I promise.”

Six months later, you and Jeonghan stood side by side in a new apartment, the keys dangling from his fingers.

The walls were bare, the furniture sparse, but it felt like a fresh start.

“You ready?” he asked, turning to you with a grin.

“Ready,” you said, smiling back.

As you stepped inside together, his hand found yours, and for the first time in a long time, everything felt right. This wasn’t about starting over; it was about moving forward—together.

[katjohnadams]

I want to remind you all of historical patterns.

When progress is made, violent bigots push back. When we make any leaps forward, there will be angry and aggressive push back. It has always happened.

But we have triumphed in the past by leaning into their hot air and pushing forward. By being relentless. By being willing to put our well-being on the line.

I think right now social media has made a massive sea chance in this. Everything feels bigger and more immediate. We are flooded with information.

So I'm going to do something I don't usually do.

I'm going to tell you to listen less.

I'm not advocating for you to become ignorant or to hear nothing, but I am going to say, stop scrolling as much. Prioritize that less and act up more. Get involved in your communities where you can and show up where possible. Be kind to those who can't and offer to take up their burden when you can.

But most of all, organize. You don't have to lead the charge. Being a leader is important and great, but so is just supporting others who do.

Step away from your feed and use the mental load that frees up for something that has a practical effect. When you can, protest. When you can, donate. When you can, speak out.

Write letters, make calls, demand action. Pressure representatives, whether you voted for them or not, to do the right thing. Annoy the shit out of them.

Get in the streets performing mutual aid and acts of lawful disobedience. Don't comply unless you have to.

Progress is made through action.

[wanderingskemetic]

🌩️Subtle Sutekh Worship🏜️

Greatly inspired by @khaire-traveler's wonderful subtle worship series, which can be found here.

Learn self-defence, weapons included or not

Allow yourself to express your anger and frustration; sit with and feel your feelings

Collect rain water (you're welcome to use it for watering plants or the like)

Learn about and uphold Ma'at

Make a playlist or listen to songs that remind you of him or you think he'd like

Make a collage/moodboard/pinterest board/similar collection of photos and images you associate with him, especially if some of the images are your own

Wear a piece of jewelry or other clothing item that reminds you of him

Light a candle or incense that reminds you of him (safely)

Carry a picture of him in your wallet, pocket, phone case, etc. or as a phone or computer wallpaper

Have desert, hippo, pig, donkey, crocodile, or sha animal imagery

Destroy depictions of A/p/e/p this can be as simple as drawing it on a piece of paper and tearing it up

Making a list of your personal strengths and things you're proud of

Practice standing up for yourself; speak your mind and assert your personal boundaries

Exercise a little, even if it's just stretching

Playing combat-based video games

Do something hard or challenging, especially if you've been putting it off, or it needs to get done

Fall asleep/meditate to the sound of rain/thunderstorms

Take a walk outside with a cloudy sky or during a rainstorm (safely)

Get involved with your government (vote, go to local meetings, protest, write/call a leader, etc.)

Take charge/leadership roles in parts of your life

Supporting local activists or online activism for causes you believe in; support human rights or humanitarian organizations

Collecting different souvenirs or other objects from different places

Practice speaking up when you disagree with someone

Become comfortable with change; take new risks, try new things, accept difficult changes

Stand up for yourself and people you care about

Try something you've been putting off; take a risk; if you're scared, do it scared

Find ways to express yourself, even if it's small

Practice embracing the chaos of life

Learn about healthy conflict resolution skills; try to implement these in your next conflict

Learn about desert habitats (especially the Sahara) and donate to organizations that help them

Donate to organizations that help immigrants

Learn a new language, particularly those of countries near yours

Work on becoming more comfortable with the idea of conflict; it is only natural that we sometimes disagree with people

Educate yourself on your rights (legally); keep up to date on new bills and laws

I may add more to this list in the future. Suggestions are always appreciated.

Link to the Kemetic Subtle Worship Masterpost

[crazyintheeast]

Chappell Roan is the epitome of why liberals keep failing in USA . She is the most stereotypical internet liberal . Someone who doesn’t understand politics and more importantly someone who absolutely refuses to learn and correct themselves ever . We see people like her all the time online . Liberals who live for the drama , who shout and rage but don’t actually do anything in real life . Sure they might go to a protest because again drama but actually becoming part of their local political landscape ? Run for office ? Volunteer ? Nope . They almost never do. In fact you can barley get them to vote

They see politics through the lenses of movies , where you if you shout long and hard enough and do some frantic gestures the opticians bow down and the good guys win . And as soon as their scenario doesn’t happen they immediately quit and refuse to do anything because in their kinds this will “teach the politicians a lesson . It will hold them accountable “ . We saw it with Obama as they handed control to the senate when he magically didn’t solve their problems , we saw in 2016 when they handed the country and the Supreme Court to Trump because their idol Bernie didn’t get elected . And no we see it again with people like Roan and her kind who think it’s more important to criticise dmeocrsts then then sheer horrifying evil and threat of Trump and Vance

And when you point this fact they always parrot the exact same type of strawmen “OMG YOU WANT US TO WORSHIP THE DEMOCRATS AND BLINDLY FOLLOW THEM ? “ or “I AM HOLDING THE POLITICIANS ACCOUNTABLE. THEY NEED TO EARN MY VOTE “ and then they tend to have a meltdown and get very self righteous .

This is bullshit of course . If they lived in a normal country you could do it. You could vote for a third or fourth partu and then on the second tour of elections the President would be force to make alliance with this party and incorporate them into the government. But USA is not a normal country . Here you have ONLY TWO CHOICES when it comes to President . Horrifying evil or a typical politicians .

And I can practically feel some of your exploding to parrot the accountability line again. . You can hold them accountable . You can do it by writing to your representative, by voting in primaries , by supporting candidates who represent your views . Chappell Roan could have easily done that . She could have supported pro Palestinian candidates who got ahnilated by the Zionist lobbies , she could have constantly told people to write their representatives, she could have hosted benefits for pro Palestinian candidates . Hell she is rich enough she could have hired her own lobby firm to lobby for Palestine . But that would mean actually getting involved into the cruel and deeply boring and dirty world of politics . So instead jsut like all those internet armchair liberals she just complained online , gave some symbolic donations that might help individual Palestinians but do nothing about the political situation and called it a day

And most of you who support her are like this . You want solution to the problems but instead demanding specific actions and doing the hard , very slow and ungrateful job of doing the step by step work you about into the void some vague demands about change , stol genocide etc and act like you are above politics . Yeah that’s not how it works . If you want to be vague and bullshit your way through politics you vote blindly for the lesser evil ( yes evil in the only option in politics . There is not good ) like the sheep you claim to hate or if you want real change you get detailed and world hard

Yes I know the vast majority of tik tok / Twitter liberals and Roan fans won’t actually bother even finishing what I wrote and would just write some dismissive nonsense or parrot some random line they think it’s wittty . And the rest would ignore the entire point and go on about how Roan is a good person who cares missing the entire point . It doesn’t matter if you are a good person or how much you care about the issue . The only thing that matters is whether you help or not . Right now the ONLY way you can help and is to vote like your life depends on it and insist that everyone you know votes as well and about how dangerous Vance and Trump are . The biggest piece of shit who votes and takes a stand against Trump and Vance is doing more to help the world then the most saintly caring liberal who goes on about both sides and does random tik tok world salsa where they threat voting like some annoying chore

And lastly remember. EVRY VOTES MATTERS even if you are in a red state . Bush won by 500 votes

[leighlew3]

So...

I know a lot of people out there are feeling lost, helpless, hopeless, and especially perhaps the younger crowd wonders: what now? As someone who has taken hit after hit after hit of trauma, abuse, homelessness, suffering, struggle, loss, illness, etc in my life that at times seems never ending... dealing with perpetual trauma and finding hope in the face of devastation is uhhh sorta my specialty.

*dorky wink and finger guns*

So, first of all on my end let me explain my plans, and then get into the 'why' and what else I plan to do and how I think we all need to tackle these coming days, weeks, months and sadly -- years.

For mental health reasons on the heels of still struggling with my grief and what sadly has become chronic health issues, I'm probably going to spend the foreseeable future hyper-focused on writing, fictional ships, planning my next tattoo, the WNBA free agency, the end of the current NFL season, and doing everything humanly possible to boost my immune system for what will inevitably be the next pandemic/plague that this administration will laugh at as Americans drop dead again because "sCiEncE iSnT rEaL".

And I advise others to find what will help them survive as well.

Here's the thing though: "give up" is not in my DNA. Nor is burying my head and hiding out away from "anything negative", because that's a hella privileged position to take, and I'm not about that life.

So, I will be signing all the petitions possible, making calls to reps who actually have proven they care, protesting when possible, sharing important info on social media, volunteering, etc as well.

Which brings me to the point here: don't give up. Do what you can. But also... recognize your humanity and limitations whether they be financial, physical, psychological or otherwise. Because sacrificing your own sanity and health isn't going to help anybody. And then we're down one less soldier in this battle for the greater good.

IF there's another election in four years (never in my lifetime did I think that would even be a question), we will have a lot of rebuilding to do regarding lost progress. We need to be ready.

In the meantime, dive into something productive and/or comforting for your own life that keeps you fulfilled but also be ready and willing to do what you can help those around you, at key moments. It's that whole "put on your oxygen mask first when the plane is going down" thing. You can't help a damn soul if you can't even breathe.

Be kind to the people you love. Tell them you love them daily. Connect with like-minded individuals. Protect and defend our most vulnerable wherever possible (the disabled, marginalized communities, fellow women/girls, etc). Hug your pets and if you don't have any, consider adopting a rescue.

Vote in the 2026 midterms. Volunteer at or donate to your local women's shelters, homeless shelters, racial justice organizations, LGBTQ+ organizations, animal rescues, environmental organizations, nursing homes for the elderly, etc.

We have to find the balance between self-care for ourselves and making our own lives tolerable amidst this bs, especially any of us who belong to one or more of the above groups -- while also plugging in to help others and the community as a whole, as needed.

And trust me, it will be needed. More than ever.

You're not alone. Even if IRL you feel like you're the only person in your family or circle who hasn't 'drank the Kool Aid' and lost all sense of reason or basic human empathy.

If you're reading this right now -- please take a second to take some deep breaths, step away, and start setting both short-term and long-term goals for yourself and your life that will help you moving forward so you can continue to fight for yourself, and for us all.

Please remember, we're in this together.

I'm with you. 💜

[sidequestsinlife]

hey american phannies, listen up

i'd like to interrupt our regularly scheduled program with an important message: "IF WE DIDN'T HAVE A CHANCE AT WINNING, THEY WOULDN'T BE TRYING SO HARD TO STOP US." (- dan howell, 2025). it's not just a nice sentiment. IT IS A CALL TO ACTION. RESIST. NOW.

things in this country are fucked up right now. we are in the middle of a coup. an unelected south african oligarch is taking over our government. they are illegally accessting the personal information of hundreds of millions of americans to use for their own ends. they are unilaterally diverting congressionally authorized spending to align with an oligarch's personal preferences. they are listing the personal information of federal employees online as "targets." they are censoring social media - tumblr seems like one of the safest platforms, SO FAR, but who knows what's next. and much more.

this goes against everything this country is supposed to stand for. but it's not too late to stop them. those tariffs? yeah, enough people were mad that now they're on hold and the "concessions" trump is claiming to have gotten from canada and mexico are things they were going to do anyway already, plus mexico actually got an extra concession from trump. no matter how he tries to spin it, he lost. he blinked. and that happened because public opinion was so strongly against him.

so now it's time to say elon musk has no place in our government and may very well have a place in our prison system. are you in or near dc? show up where elon musk and his doge henchmen are planning to violate the constitution today. additionally, there are protests calling for our leaders to take action agains this coup in every state capitol today. if you can't get to your state capitol, i've been back in the country for less than 12 hours and i've already found a group of people going to our senator's local office to demand accountability and that he follow his oath to the constitution (via a local chapter of indivisible) and i'll be there this afternoon, and i'm bringing several other people with me. can't get anywhere in person? there are lots of phone calls that need to be made. write a letter if you can't make a call, but phone calls do get more attention from reps. if you don't have time but do have money, there are many organizations that rely on donations to fight the fascists; the aclu is one of my favorites. if none of these options work for you, for whatever reason, reply to this post; i'm sure we can find something for you to do to stand up to this authoritarian takeover of the united states.

this is germany, 1933. when you learned about the holocaust in school, did you imagine you would have been part of the resistance? or did you imagine you'd be the sort of person to stand idly by and watch while millions were slaughtered? this is your chance to actually be the person you imagined you'd be.

whatever you do, DO SOMETHING. those who do nothing in the face of evil, are taking the side of the oppressor. it's not too late to stop them. but at some point, it will be.

[neodymiumcuilz]

I'm Ahmed from Gaza. Hear me out and don't ignore me. I desperately need your help sharing and donating. Today, shells fell near our tent, and my family and I were displaced south due to the heavy bombing. We moved to a faraway place on foot, looking for a safe place to sit. We could only sleep on the street. I need you. Help me by donating or sharing. We are now under bombardment and hunger. The situation here is beyond tragic. Hunger is killing us just like missiles are.https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-ahmed-and-his-family-survive-in-gaza-crisis

"Amidst the rubble and under a sky raining fire, we try to cling to life, but death surrounds us from every direction. No sound is louder than the sound of destruction, and no light is seen except the flames. We run in search of shelter, but we find only fear accompanying us, and hunger gnaws at our hearts before our bodies. Hope has become a deception, salvation a mirage, and every attempt at escape ends in a new cycle of pain.

We are here amidst the ruins of our dreams, carrying pain greater than our lives. What fate awaits me and my family? Will we ever be martyrs, or will we grow? The tree of freedom rings church bells and the takbir is raised in the mosques with the joy of the tree of freedom that has grown over the bodies of martyrs: children, women, and the elderly. Where is humanity, O people of all sects and religions? We await your cry to stop the killing and bloodshed. My family needs your support, and every person in Gaza needs your continued support.

Please help me by donating or participating. We are now under bombardment and hunger. Please don't let us die alone here. Donate, share"

Why don't you care about them? I cannot even explain to you - daily they call out to you, screaming at you to help them. Screaming, showing you what they are going through, showing the world the brutal violence - showing you. They are pleading for their lives - they shouldn't have to plead for their lives just for us to lift a finger to donate - we shouldt have to protest against a damn genocide in the 21st century?

You see the dead children, you see the destroyed homes and buildings. You see the charred and mangled corpses. Do you see them as only numbers? Statistics? Do you see them as nothing? As not worthy of even a few bucks? Is your life more important? Is 5 dollars more important than them? I hope it is worth it, ignoring them puts blood on your hands, that you can never wash off, your silence will be studied by your grandchildren, they will ask "how did nobody do anything to stop this"

I write posts daily for families in Gaza, I ask you to PLEASE share or donate to the campaigns I post about, their lives depend on it - I cannot stress to you enough how much your voice and donations matter.

29% OF GOAL RAISED - NOT ENOUGH FOR A SUSTAINABLE LIFE.

@ahmadahmadgaza NEEDS YOUR URGENT HELP - NOW. Please, I am begging. HE IS BEGGING - TO KEEP HIS LIFE. You know humanity is doomed when we have to beg for others to save our lives with an easy click of a button, and they still don't.