Honestly, the prison labor system is such a fucked up thing and the fact that these politicians create policies that fill prisons up with minor offenders then benefit through free labor when prisoners are stripped of their rights and manipulated into work…..
Oh my god
jessicamarcia requested: Jungkook + Idol/Fan AU Pairing: Jungkook | Reader Genre: Fluff Word Count: 17,378 Author’s Note: Tbh I had some apprehension about this request because an idea I stumbled upon that just kept coming back to me was directly from this fantasy I kept about having about what would happen if I ever meet Jungkook and how and this just feels very personal to me as a result. Regardless, I decided to share because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t decide to contribute my pain to the fandom.
ALSO, sentences in italics are being spoken in Korean.
Summary: You never understood the gravity of your position as an intern working Kcon until you fall for one of your favorite idols, Jeon Jungkook—quite literally too.
Sometimes you think you have a lot of mixed feelings when it comes to your job.
On one hand, it’s a pretty incredible opportunity, one that you acknowledge not a lot of people get to experience first hand: which is working as an intern in the event operations department for Kcon—the annual Korean convention in which big Kpop groups will travel around the world to bring their music and their joy to the international fanbase. For someone who never actually had the means and the ability to make the trip as an audience member of your own accord, it’s fascinating to witness the back-the-scenes sight of how much effort and how much time goes into planning and organizing an event of this scale.
And because Kcon it in of itself is half a convention and half a concert, there were always many people needed to cover the different subsections of the event, which is where your role as an intern came into play. Given that there were two interns in the department of organizing the physicality of the event, you were put on the team mainly in charge of organizing the convention while the other intern assisted with scheduling of the talents and making sure the performances would go by smoothly.
But on the other end of that spectrum, working with vendors really allows you to see how many people handle responsibility and deadlines and it makes you want to pull the hair out of your roots. You like to think of yourself as a fairly reasonable person, giving a vendor 24 hours to respond to emails at the latest before having to resort to more emails and phone call—but this is absolutely ridiculous.
Your myth retellings are gorgeous. Would you tell another please? Maybe something with Hermes?
Pandora is made from
earth, shaped by the hands of Hephaestus and made in the image of his beloved
wife. Aphrodite gifts her with grace and charisma. Athena teaches her to weave
and bestows cleverness upon her.
She stands in front of
Hermes, and the god frowns and touches her with a single fingertip on her chin,
moving her head one way than the other. “They’ll eat you alive,” he says, and
she doesn’t understand.
She tilts her head to the
side and smiles a vacant smile. All of the cleverness in the world will do her
no good without any context. “We are the same,” she says, pressing a hand to
Hermes’s chest. She is made from earth and has the skin to mach. He is a
celestial god, and his skin is the same rich shade of brown.
He did not ask to be born
any more than his mother asked to bare him. His creation, just like hers, is at
the whims of Zeus. All for some little lost fire, all because Prometheus wanted
his people to be warm, and, well, he is the god of the thieves after all –
So he gifts her with
deceit, with selfishness, with cunning. Her smile leaves her face all at once
as she’s filled with self-awareness. “He’ll be angry with you,” she says, “I am
not what you were supposed to make.”
“Gods have short
memories,” he says, and doesn’t bother to hide the contempt in his voice. “Do
not worry about me, gifted child. You have larger problems than my fate.”
He has turned her from
something pure into – something more like him. Her face darkens even further as
her perfectly crafted mind slots all the pieces together, and he can’t help but
find her lovely. It’s how she was made, after all. “I can’t stop it, can I?
Whatever they’re planning for me to do?”
“No,” Hermes says, “but
now you might be able to survive it.”
“Will I want to?” she
asks, and he doesn’t answer. She doesn’t expect him too.
She hides from everyone,
lives in a cave at the edge of the city. The gods had called her the first
woman, but that’s not true, she can see.
There are women. They
smile and laugh have work roughened hands. She aches to join them, but she has
the beauty of a goddess. They will know. If she joins them, they will know she
is not of them, and it will set into motion whatever trap Zeus has planned.
She is not human, not in
the same way, molded from clay by a god’s hands. But she is of humans, and not eager to bestow upon
them the harm she’s destined to bring them. She bathes in streams where only
nymphs reside, steals into the city in the cloak of night and pilfers from the
“When they said they sent
my brother a wife,” a low, amused voice says too close behind her one night, “I
had not expected a begger.”
She whirls around, hard
bread clenched tight in front of her, an incredibly inefficient shield. Her
breath catches in her throat when she sees him, dark and tall and eyes like the
night sky. He looks like Hermes. Like her. “Who are you?” she demands. They’re
in an alley corner, and of her gifts flight is not among them. She’ll have to
fight him to get away.
She’s not afraid of him.
Maybe another mortal would be, cornered in the middle of the night by a man she
doesn’t know. But she’s no normal mortal woman, and besides – he has something
comforting about him, like the hearthfire attended by Hestia. Something warm.
“I am Prometheus,” says
the man, and no wonder he reminds her of fire. “What do they call you?”
“You are meant to be in
the deepest pits of Hades’s realm,” she snaps, and shifts her grip on the stale
bread so that she can throw it at him. He’s the whole reason she’s here to
begin with, him and his thievery.
He shrugs and walks
closer to her, watching her like one would watch a wild animal. Good. Here, in
this dark alley where no one would find a cooling body until morning, it is he
that should be afraid. “Gods forget,” he says, “and Hades had grown cold in his
place beneath the earth.”
She pauses, considers. “You
stole fire for Hades?”
“No,” he corrects, “I
stole fire for the people. But Hades benefited as well. Enough that he was
willing to forget the terms of my
“What do you want?” she
asks for the second time. “Why are you here?”
He stops, too close to
her, “The question is why are you
She steps into his space
now, following him as he backs away from her, “I am here because of you,
fire-stealer, because gods may forget but they do not forgive, and I am the
punishment they have unleashed upon the world.”
“What a punishment you
are,” he says, looking at her lips, and she forgets to hate him only long
enough to kiss him.
Hermes watches her,
watches them. He doesn’t know Zeus’s plan, if this is part of it or not, but he
watches her, and he worries. He thinks it is, he can see Aphrodite’s magic
clinging to Pandora, but he doesn’t know why.
He would go to his
mother, but she’s always difficult to find, Gaea preferring to live in streams
and rivers rather than face the man she bore a son for. But his mother’s
father, on the other hand, is always in the same place.
greets, touching lightly down onto the earth, “How are you?”
“How am I always, boy?”
Atlas grunts out, legs and arms straining as he holds up the sky above the
Hermes lips quirk up the
corners. Some days, he thinks he’s more Atlas’s grandson than he’s Zeus’s son. “I
need some advice, Grandfather.”
Atlas raises an eyebrow, “I’m
So Hermes tells him
everything, from beginning to end, because he can’t figure out what his father’s
plan is, but Atlas might. He’s known the man for longer, at least.
Atlas nods, slow, and
says, “A bride of gods, a gifted child. I can think of only one reason to
create such a child.” Hermes waits. Atlas sighs and says, “There is a jar,
within Olympus, that becomes sealed when it leaves the realm of the gods. After
that, only a being neither mortal nor celestial may open it.”
“What are they planning
to put inside?” Hermes demands, heart spiking. What are they planning to unleash
upon the unsuspecting earth?
His grandfather smirks, “It
doesn’t matter. What matters is this – what are you going to put inside?”
ERROR 707 CODENAME THEORY a.k.a GET READY TO SUFFER FT. RESET THEORY
WARNING, THIS WILL PROBABLY BREAK YOUR HEART
Okay guys, I just had a massive realisation and you need to read this omg.
It’s common knowledge in the Mystic Messenger fandom that the codename Seven (707) can be read as ‘LOL’ when flipped, and this is likely a deliberate move by Cheritz. But what if there’s another reason for the codename 707?(hold onto your hats guys)
Seven is a hacker, meaning he deals with massive amounts of code. When there is an error in code, a message will appear with a number which is a label for that specific type of problem. For example, a common one is Error 404: File Not Found. All of the error labels and their meanings can be found online.
I looked up the error that goes with the number 707, and look what it is:
Now, keep in mind the theory that Seven’s memories aren’t lost when the player resets the game. Have a look at what the error for 707 actually is.
“When the server is unable to release that section of memory, error 707 occurs.”
It’s highly likely that Seven keeps the memories after the reset, meaning whatever causes the other characters to lose their memories cannot remove Seven’s memories.
And Error 707 occurs when a server is unable to release (basically get rid of) parts of memory on the server. Error 707 happens when memories can’t be removed.
sometimes I go like ten mins without seeing a pic of Onew and I just think of him like oh wow he’s handsome and then I SEE a pic and I’m like FUCK ? I don’t remember him being that beautiful ?! clearly our minds cannot truly comprehend Lee Jinki’s beauty enough to form a memory that does him any justice because each time I’m just…blown away. whatta man.
edit: okay this is cool and im proud of us for breaking a record cause like yay!! we did that !! and all but guys this is lowkey highkey dangerous (how the fu ck did ONLY our screams do that damn,,, the baepsae hip thrusts were probs too much for us lmao) stay safe and take care y'all please don’t lose your hearing i (and ofc bts) wouldn’t want that!