#but sure it doesn't matter who people voted for!!! keep telling yourself that!

[neiptune]

tiktok having a banner pop up pretty much saying we're gone for now but fear not trump will fix this for you is so fucked and scary like truly do not download nor use that app ever again

[murderofravens]

DUSK TILL DAWN

pairing: hwang inho/young-il/frontman x fem reader.

warnings: age gap (reader is 20, inho is in his late 40s) slowburn. oral fixation. thigh riding. plot with porn. yearning. sexual tension. canon compliant. slight infantilization. no y/n used.

summary: he promised that you will make it out alive. he will make sure of it, no matter what it takes.

word count: 6.5k

BABY I'M RIGHT HERE & FLY ME TO THE MOON POSTED!

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

please ignore any mistakes.

as you wipe the blood from your face, the reality of your situation sets in. you never thought you'd get used to the smell of blood— much less the sight of it. or the texture. and now you're covered in it. the white of your uniform splattered with crimson, the metallic smell of it almost overwhelming. in a situation like the one you're in, you can only laugh. the mere sight of blood used to make you feel faint; make you want to throw up because you're squeamish. now you're covered in it from head to toe.

it's not yours. it's of the people they shot dead during the second game.

you barely remember how you made it out alive. the second one was all thanks to your team— thanos and nam-gyu were the closest to your age, and teaming up with them worked in your favour. your age and gender was a liability to the others, but they were kind enough to take you in. or perhaps they were thinking with their dicks. would it really matter either way?

but with the way they act, you're not sure if you want to continue being in a team with them. especially since thanos keeps trying to woo you with his poor rapping skills. they're way too loud and reckless for you, and you're scared they might get you killed. they're not willing to give up the game anytime soon, either.

then there's the first game— you're alive, because of 456. that crazy man who supposedly had played the games before. if it wasn't for him pulling you behind his back, you would've left the premises in a cardboard box. especially because you fucking sneezed as soon as the doll turned back.

since then, you've decided you don't want to play this game anymore. 456 has been desperately trying to change the other's mind— but they're greedy and insistent. you pressed the cross for his sake, and for the others, and for yourself. hell, you can live in debt, but what use is that money if you die trying? you're not that much of a hard worker. you value your life above anything else.

you walk over to their team— 456, and his two loud team members. another man is sitting there— player 001. the one who ruined your chance of going home on the first vote. he seems ordinary, but you know of him because you saw him beat the shit out of thanos. that was another reason you decided to abandon that team— you could not be seen with a bully, or a loser. as you approach him, you give him a slight nod of acknowledgement, which he returns. you turn your attention to 456, and thank him profusely for what he did for you. he's kind, you'll give him that. you like kind people.

"if you don't mind me asking—" a voice interrupts, and you look over your shoulder. it's player 001. he looks at you curiously. "how old are you?"

"old enough." you retort cheekily. he doesn't look amused as he cocks his head to the side.

"i'm curious as to why a little kid like you would compromise herself for money."

that shuts you up. you're offended, to say the least. who is he to call you a little kid? the entire team also looks on, seemingly baffled. the question makes sense. you're sure you're the youngest out of all players. and people can tell because you look it too. you don't really know how to respond, so you just look on with a frown, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"forgive me—" he lets out an awkward chuckle, "i didn't mean it the wrong way. i'm just worried."

you give him an uneasy smile, rubbing the back of your neck. the others go back to their conversations, and you shrug. he shoots a glance towards gi-hun before sitting back down and shifting slightly, as if making room for you. you take a seat beside him. there's silence before he glances at the symbol on your jacket— the cross.

"i'm sorry." he says with a small smile, looking straight ahead, "you wanted to go home but you had to continue because of me. i put a kid in danger."

"i'm not a kid," you huff softly, straightening up, "i'm twenty. but yeah, you should be sorry."

you give him a small smile to ensure he knows that the last line is lighthearted. he seems to understand and returns it.

"dont worry about it," you sigh, fiddling with the zip of your jacket, "im sure you had your reasons. just like i have mine for coming here."

"and your parents?" he asks. he's so polite, it warms your heart. polite and soft spoken. and visibly tough. probably some officer, you think, judging by his skills you preciously saw.

"that's what i need the money for." you sigh, leaning back against the bunker. "i need enough money to establish myself. continue my studies. bring my mom and my sister to come live with me. settle off my father's debts because he's a coward who decided to pass down his sins onto his daughter."

he raises his eyebrows, and you take a sharp breath. there's a moment of silence between you two— you think for a moment, and feel your eyes get slightly glassy. you're not going to cry in front of a stranger. you put on a brave face. "if i die here, my mother—"

he stares at you silently, before putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, interrupting your cursed sentence. "you'll make it out alive."

the doors open, and the staff comes in again. they reveal the number of players left, showcase the money that each person would get, and then the voting starts again.

this time, player 001 doesn't disappoint you. he goes first, and clicks on the cross. the hope it gives you eventually shatters as more and more players begin to vote in favour of continuing the game. you see 456 get increasingly agitated as he begins to make his way towards the front of the crowd. before he can speak, he's interrupted.

001's voice rings out loud and authoritative, and worried. he reprimands the voters in favour, calls them out on their selfishness.

"we'll all die if we keep playing!" he chastises the crowd urgently. "you have to survive first, or there won't be a next step—"

"there's no next step for us!" he's interrupted by player 100. a stout old man who had been at odds against 456 since the start— you remember him having 10 billion won in debt. it makes you snicker. he eggs on the crowd. "with that money, we won't be able to pay our debts. we need to play one more game, then the money will increase to 240 million. with that we can pay atleast a little of our debts! isn't that right!?"

"you're going to die trying!" you snap, making your way to the front of the crowd. you glare at player 100, at all his little supporters cheering at the back. "your greed is going to get you killed. how can you be so confident to say that you'll survive the next game? what if you die?"

"you shut up, young lady!" he hisses, mouth scrunching bitterly. "is that how you speak to your elders? your brain is too small to comprehend real life problems. we can't continue with our lives with that little money!"

"continue your lives?" a laugh bubbles out of your throat. "look at that greying head of yours, you barely have a life ahead of you! why don't you let us live ours?!"

that seems to have ticked him off, because he quite literally turns red as he takes a threatening step towards you.

"what did you just say?"

"i said—" you step forward, shooting him a challenging glare, "you're too old to be playing children's games. vote wisely and let us go home."

he lets out a snarl before trying to lunge at you, but you're pulled back as player 001 steps between the two of you. like a wall. he looks at the old man, eyes cold, his voice low. "that's enough."

since the incident with thanos, nobody has really tried anything with 001. it's obvious enough they're intimidated by him, and they don't want to be on the receiving end of his wrath. 100 doesn't either, with the way he collects himself and steps back, embarrassed. you look over 001's shoulder, make eye contact with the old man and shoot him a taunting smile. you know it's childish, but you've resented him from the start.

before the old man can say anything, player 001 drags you to the side where you can't argue with people anymore. and the voting continues.

"you can't talk to people like this," he says lowly, gaze focused on the crowd. staring at something that you can't figure out. "you never know what they might do."

you huff bitterly. you know what he means.

"i don't care. i fucking hate bullies."

"potty mouth." he chastises, but theres a smirk on his face. he's teasing. you chuckle.

"remember you need to get out of here alive." he repeats, looking at you with an intensity that is almost terrifying. "you can't do that if you keep this up."

"jeez, okay dad." you joke, rolling your eyes. your words make him smile lightly.

"thanks for having my back there." you tell him sincerely. he looks at you for a bit before nodding in acknowledgement.

the voting ends, and they announce that the games will continue tomorrow. it makes your heart drop.

that night, you feel uneasy when you try to sleep. your clothes stick to your skin, and the side of your face keeps itching. with an irritated grumble, you get off the bunker and walk over to your new friend's side. you squint your eyes before looking for 001— and when you find him, you gently shake him.

"are you sleeping?" you whisper.

he opens his eyes, wincing slightly before sitting up. his voice is hushed as he responds, "not anymore. what is it?"

you bite your lower lip nervously before reluctantly asking, "will you go to the restroom with me? i'm kinda scared to go alone."

he blinks at you, confused. you continue out of sheer desperation.

"those guards just stare weirdly with their weird little masks and it makes me nervous." you hope your voice doesn't shake as you speak. "last time one of them kept knocking on the door while i was in the washroom and it just— scared the shit out of me. and my face is itching and i really need to go. please?"

he listens patiently. for a moment you think he'd decline but he just sighs and nods, and you cheer just a little as he steps out and follows you to the door. you bang on it, loudly telling the guards that you need to go. one of them opens the sliding window, and then immediately opens the door. it makes you feel strange, because usually it takes a lot more effort to convince them. either way, you're grateful.

you know your better option would've been to take one of the girls with you, but the sad fact is you haven't had the chance to get friendly with any of the female players yet. and for some reason, player 001 makes you feel a sense of safety and security that is almost strange— you feel at ease around him.

"i'll be in the men's room," he tells you, and you nod. he shoots a glance to the guard standing outside the women's restroom before walking away. you quickly go inside, and the first thing you do is splash water on your face.

you quickly clean the blood off your skin, holding back the urge to cry. you scrub at your cheeks till you're sure you can scratch the itch away for good. your nails dig a little too deep, and a little blood oozes out of the scratches on the side of your face. you clean that too, and then try to scrub the splatters of blood off your t-shirt. it's white, and you have no soap— so the stains remain. a faint reminder. you take your time, and anticipate the knocking— but it never comes.

you look in the mirror, at your tired face and sunken eyes, before giving yourself a nod and stepping out. 001 is waiting for you outside, looking to the side. he gives you an odd look as you step out, before walking alongside you.

"are you alright?" he asks gently, concerned. kind as ever.

you look at him again, give him a nod. "thank you."

when you two reach the room, he returns the smile with one of his own.

as you make your way to the bunker, he grabs your shoulder, "why don't you start sleeping on our side?" he says quietly, "join the team. there's a bed near mine. you won't feel so scared that way."

you blink, trying to see his face in the darkness. the offer is enticing— and most of all, it warms your heart.

"really?" you ask hopefully.

"really." he says kindly.

you follow him to the bunker, and he covers the railing with his hand to avoid you getting hurt as you bend down to get into the bed. he looks at the slightly wet patches on your shirt— blinks before getting a bedsheet and putting it over you. "get some sleep. we got a game to play tomorrow."

you smile softly at him. as he turns to get into his own bed, you grab his hand. it's warm against yours— big and rough. you don't allow your mind to drift that way. it's not right. he looks at you, gaze questioning.

"thanks again," you say softly, "it means a lot to me."

he leans down a little to ruffle your hair before going back to his bed and laying down. you close your eyes and drift to sleep— unaware that he stays up, thinking.

breakfast is boring— bread and milk. you sit on the bed, scowling. player 456 is surprised as he sees you there, before you two share understanding smiles. you bow a little and he bows back before going along with his friend. 001 comes to sit by you then, munching on his own breakfast.

"i miss home," you mumble, "how am i supposed to survive on just this? it's not even chocolate milk."

001 laughs, "don't worry, you can have whatever you want once you get out of here."

"will i?"

he looks at you, raising his eyebrows. you take his silence as a cue to continue, "im scared i'll die in here."

he looks down, before shifting to be closer to you. "you made it this far, didn't you?"

you look at him, voice getting shaky. "and what if i dont make it till the end? what if i die here and my family thinks i abandoned them? i don't want to die. i haven't even lived my life yet."

his expression is hard to read. "you'll make it out of here alive," he tells you with conviction, "ill make sure of it."

your lips wobble as you stare at him, and he smiles before poking you in the nose. "finish your food. you need the energy for the next game. we'll make it out alive, then we'll try to get the voters on our side and go home. sound good?"

you snort, rolling your eyes before nodding. "sounds good."

he gives you his bread then, tells you to eat more. when you protest, he sends a warning glare your way— the one with a quirked eyebrow and a knowing gaze. you roll your eyes, and happily eat it.

you were hungry. perhaps he can tell things like that. you're just grateful.

today, you decided to be a little rebellious. when you first joined the games, you used to spend a long time in the bathrooms— analyzing, looking for a way out. during that time, you'd discovered that one of the screws in the ceiling vent was loose. you hadn't really bothered checking it before, but since it's daytime and you have some time before the next game, you decide to explore.

your hairclip works— the screws were not tightly fixed, so it unscrewed easily. you'd contemplated checking it out last night, but you didn't want to take any risks, especially since player 001 was with you. so now whatever you do, the responsibility will be yours.

when the bathroom gets empty and all the women leave, you pull it down and try climbing up. it's moments like these that you can pride yourself on your agility— work that usually required two people, you could do alone. with one leg on the flush and the other on the top of the cubicle, you climbed up, scratching the side of your arm slightly before finally getting in the vents. you groaned to yourself, and then started crawling inside. there were two ways to go— you chose the left one. you looked down, trying to understand the layout of the place where you were practically held hostage. you keep crawling, making sure not to make too much noise before finally seeing a place through the gaps that you hadn't seen before— you carefully remove the screws and pull it apart.

the place looks empty. the walls are all sorts of pink and green. you put your head down and look both ways, seeing a door at the end of the hallway. carefully, you climb down and lower yourself to the ground with a thump. your shoulder hurts a little. you stand up, and aim for the door. as soon as you begin walking, you hear footsteps. it's as if someone splashed cold water on you— you realize the grave mistake you just made. guards walk here with guns, and you made the impulsive decision to explore a dangerous place like this by yourself?

you look around, running towards the other end of the hallway. the footsteps get louder, and as you look over your shoulder, something grabs you. out of reflex, you go to scream, but a hand clamps down on your mouth, and your back collides with a hard chest.

"shh, it's me." the voice hisses. your wide eyes look up, scared, before realizing who it is.

player 001.

your chest heaves as you break out into a sweat, a tear rolling down your cheek. he keeps you in a tight hold, looking to the side, your breath dampening his hand. the footsteps suddenly become faint, as if walking away. your breaths sync together, and after a moment, he relaxes.

he takes his hand off your mouth before harshly twisting you to face him. his voice is hushed but angry, "what were you thinking?!"

"what are you doing here?" you whisper shakily at the same time.

"everyone was back in the room except you. i came to find you!" he chides, eyes hard. he shakes you slightly, "do you really plan to get killed like this? is this how you want to die? can you go one moment without being a reckless brat—"

his words make you want to cower in on yourself.

"i wanted to find a way out." you try to sound assertive, but your voice betrays you. your words come out panicked, "I wanted to help and— fuck— i got you in trouble too— you shouldn't have come looking for me! fuck— how are we gonna make it out of here?"

he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut before looking at you tiredly. "the game is about to start. we'll mix in with the crowd when they leave, i doubt they'll notice."

"are you sure it'll work?" you ask. you hear a faint announcement. the game is about to start.

he looks up at the speakers, alert. he grabs you tightly and drags you away with an air of confidence. "let's go."

you don't encounter any guards on the way back. it's strange, but you figure it's because they're all preparing for the next game. player 001's plan worked, because you two mixed in with the crowd, and the guards didn't notice. one of them turned back to look at you, and you panted, staring back at him. your heart raced, but you felt the presence of 001 next to you, and you felt at ease again. the guard looked away.

"i told you to stop being reckless." he says quietly, looking at 456 and 390, before looking back at you. your legs hurt from climbing so many stairs. "what would you have done if they found you?"

you swallow the lump in your throat, staring up at him intensely, eyes glassy. he saved your life. "i guess you stopped that from happening."

he clenches his jaw, his gaze flickering up and down your face before looking away. "i won't always be there to save you."

you look away, heart dropping. "thank you, 001."

"call me young-il."

you look up at him, blinking back tears, quirking an eyebrow as you two walk. "only if you allow me to add 'sir' at the end of it."

he chuckles, eyes crinkling. he has such a nice laugh. "why's that? respect?"

you nod, giving a little bow. "respect is very important in my culture as well. so thank you for saving my life, young-il sir."

he grins a little and pats your head. you thank him again, and decide you like him enough. so you tell him your name.

he tests it on his tongue, and you quite like the way he says it.

the next game had to be the most terrifying so far.

it was called mingle, and you had to run to the rooms in groups according to the number announced. things like these were where you got scared— where you had to group with people. in dangerous situations, you know people usually only look out for two types of people— themselves, and the ones dearest to them.

you were not dear to anyone here. you really should've interacted with more people.

the platform rotates, before the number is announced. six. your eyes widen and you frantically look around, but young-il is faster. he grabs you and drags you to the room with the rest of the team. you pant as the 30 seconds pass, and then look out the window in the door to see how many people were left— quite a few. your eyes widen as the red guards move forward with their guns raised.

young-il leaps forward and covers your eyes with his hand before pulling you into himself as the gunshots ring out— you flinch and shudder at every single one, breathing sharp and your entire frame trembling violently. when there is silence and the doors open, you look up. young-il gently lets go of you, looking around. he's panting too, and you look at him with the most crushed look on your face before he meets your gaze. he can tell what you want to know— why would you do that?

"you shouldn't have to see all this." he says quietly, adjusting his jacket and putting a little distance between you too. 456 pats your shoulder and makes sure people are okay before moving out. you just look at young-il for a while, but he simply looks around, seemingly lost in thought. as if fighting a war within himself. you wish you knew how to reassure him like he did with you, but you realize you barely know anything about him.

the entire floor is painted with blood. the sight makes you want to vomit. you walk carefully, but your foot slips in someone's blood and you begin to fall over. 456 catches you. "are you alright?"

instinctively, your gaze tries to find young-il but he's standing away. his head is lowered.

"yes, thank you." you give 456 a smile, before assuming your place on the platform again.

you play a few more rounds. you're lucky enough to have someone to team with each time— young-il and 456 don't let go of you even once. but then the voice runs out again, and they announce the number 3. this time, 456 is dragged along with the old woman and her son. you look around frantically, and meet young-il's panicked gaze with your own. you begin to run towards him, but two people grab you and drag you towards one of the rooms.

thanos and nam-gyu. you shriek at them, clawing at their arms and trying to run back out. what if young-il doesn't make it? what if something bad happens?

this time, you have no one to cover your eyes or ears. thanos and nam-gyu talk shit within themselves, and you look outside the little window, flinching with every gunshot ringing out, trying to pinpoint if it's young-il's body falling to the ground. you can't help the light sob erupting from your throat, and thanos chooses the wrong moment to come bother you.

"watcha looking for, señorita?" he laughs, poking your side, "is it your old man? did he finally—"

you turn to him and punch him in the face. he falls back and groans dramatically, rubbing the blood running down his nose. nam-gyu rushes to his rescue, giggling. they're both high as a kite. the doors open, and you rush out before they can bother you further.

you look around. 456 is with the rest of the team, but you can't find young-il. frantically, you look towards the dead bodies, heart pounding against your chest and head throbbing. suddenly, there's cheers from your team, and you look up to see young-il walking over with a bright grin on his face.

you don't know what compelled you to do it. you were acting on your emotions— overwhelmed by the relief you felt on the sight of his face. before you can even stop, you're dashing towards him and crashing into his body, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

he's shocked, that much is obvious by the way he tenses slightly. but then he returns the hug, wrapping his arms around you and placing one hand on your head, gently patting. "i told you we'd make it."

you choke on a soft sob, nodding, burying your head further into his chest, as if ready to climb inside him, "i thought you—"

he shushes you softly, voice gentle as he runs a hand through your hair. you can feel his heart racing against his chest too. you wonder if it's for the same reasons as you. "i'm okay."

you wish the game ended there. but there was one more round to go. as you rotated on the platform— the moment you were dreading finally happened as young-il predicted it. the number announced was two.

you were ready to die there. things seemed to happen in slow motion— 456 took his best friend 390, 149 was dragged by her son. you didn't get the chance to see who took who next, because young-il had grabbed your hand and was dragging you towards one of the rooms. there were only fifty rooms— the first one you two got to was taken. he dragged you to another with a mere ten seconds left.

you sighed in relief as you got in, before seeing another man was already there. he was shaking in fear, and you jumped at the harshness of young-il's voice when he ordered him to get out. when the other player refused, young-il lunged at him and put him in a headlock.

your eyes widened and you stepped forward, panic stricken but he looked right at you and called your name, "close your eyes!"

you flinched. you looked at the man, then at young-il, before squeezing your eyes shut. you slid to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest as soon as you heard a 'crack' before opening your eyes.

the player was dead. young-il cracked his neck.

the timer finished at that exact moment, and young-il crawled over to you before pulling you into his chest. the gunshots rang out, and you flinched, sobbing.

young-il killed someone.

"i had to do it," he whispered against your hair, holding your head against his chest, "we both have to make it out alive. i had to do it. you know that right?"

you wanted to believe him, you really did. but in that moment, you felt scared of him for the first time.

the doors opened, and the game finished.

while you wanted to revel in your victory, the incident during mingle had rattled you to your core. the others checked up on you, especially 388 and 456. young-il maintained some distance. you could feel like he thought it's what you wanted. but you could really use his comfort. you just don't know how to talk to him again without being nervous. you force yourself to relive your previous interactions with him— he's still the same young-il who has saved you and comforted you countless times.

he did what he had to do to ensure your survival. that wasn't something you could hold against him. not when both of your lives were on the line.

the voting this time was just as challenging. you made your way to the front of the crowd, praying that they'd choose wisely this time. you need to go home.

one of the players in the old man's team showed you the finger before clicking the 'o' button. the action made your eye twitch, and you grit your teeth before straightening up to attack that guy and scratch his face off, but a hand to your chest held you back.

if looks could kill, young-il's glare could've sent that guy home in a body bag. as the votes in favour of continuing the game increased, you pushed his hand off you and addressed the crowd, "have you all lost your fucking minds?!"

their chitter chatter stopped and they looked at you. you clench your jaw, "after losing so many people out there you still want to play? what the fuck is wrong with you people? are human lives that invaluable to you?"

player 100 steps forward, insufferable as always. "don't you see how much money we're getting for each person? it could settle our debt! we can't give up after how far we've come."

"you're gonna die!" you snap, pointing at him, "you could take this money and go home and be happy instead of risking your life for something that is not assured to you! why won't you listen?! i want to go home!"

the others in favour of terminating the game start chanting with you, a string of 'i want to go home' echoing across the room.

player 100 glares, urging his own team to chant against you. he looks towards young-il, yells something along the lines of, "look after your fucking kid!" before the barell of a gun presses against the back of your head. the whole room freezes, and so do you.

"disruptions against a democratic vote will not be excused." the robotic voice calls out. for a second you think this is it. you look at young-il. if you die here, you'd prefer the man who saved your life to be the last person you see. he glares at the guard, his jaw clenching. the guard lowers the gun and steps back and you let out a breath of relief.

you immediately saunter over to him, gritting your teeth. the vote is a tie— and they announce the next voting to be held tomorrow.

456 says there's about to be a fight. the rest of the team got busy setting up a barricade— and you didn't get the chance to talk to your player. you knew his concern though, when he made sure to especially hide your side of the bed with two mattresses.

you play with the hem of your shirt as you sit in your bed by your lonesome. your food sits by you, untouched. you dont feel like eating. the weight on the bed shifts, and young-il appears into view.

"you're not eating."

you swallow the lump in your throat. "i don't feel like it."

he contemplates, eyes lowered before he looks at you again. "im sorry you had to witness that. I don't want you to be scared of me."

you want to cry. "im not." you whisper, "you.. you had to do what you had to do. to save us."

he blinks, nodding.

"back there, i thought that was it. it's over." you chuckle bitterly. "but you saved me again. you acted on impulse. i could never resent you for it."

your eyes are bloodshot as you look at him again. fat tears roll down your cheeks, and he frowns. he sighs before leaning closer, brushing the tears away. "why are you crying?"

"i wouldn't have survived this far if it wasn't for you." you whisper, voice cracking. "promise me you wouldn't abandon me. promise me you won't die."

his gaze softens. he's silent for a bit, his hand coming to rest on your knee, "i promise."

you sniffle, wiping your tears away. a small smile appears on your face, "i punched thanos."

"thanos?" he frowns, confused before raising his eyebrows in recognition, "ah, the loud kid with the purple hair?"

you nod proudly. "he said something like 'did 001 finally die?' so i punched him."

he laughs heartily— face scrunching cutely, eyes crinkling. he shakes his head fondly before ruffling your hair again. "attagirl."

it makes you blush slightly and you smile, looking down at your lap. he grabs your dinner— the roll sitting next to you and unwraps it, taking out a piece before holding it out, "eat."

you snort before leaning forward and taking a bite. he looks at you for a while with that faraway look in his eyes, before wordlessly continuing to feed you the rest. the words go unsaid. 'what are we doing? why are we so comfortable with each other?'

some sauce sticks to the corner of your mouth. he raises his hand to hold your chin, his thumb gently wiping it off. your breath hitches.

neither of you protest when his thumb brushes across your bottom lip, gaze focused on it like he's hypnotized. he's thinking, mindlessly feeling the plush texture of it.

you've always been impulsive. especially in situations where you shouldn't be. it happens so naturally— how your lips part just slightly. and maybe he's impulsive too, because his thumb slips inside, and his breath hitches as soon as your lips wrap around his thumb.

his gaze raises to meet yours— and you blink almost dazedly. his thumb presses down on your tongue, and he calls out your name in the softest voice.

"i'm too old for you." he whispers, shaking his head in disapproval.

your eyes flutter, and you lean forward, grabbing hold of his wrist. he pulls his thumb out, and you almost whine in protest. to your utter delight, he replaces it with two of his fingers, and your eyes almost roll back as you crawl forward till you're situated on his lap, mouth stuffed with his index and middle finger. you suck on them enthusiastically. they're long and thick and perfect and you don't want them out of your mouth ever again. it elicits a soft moan out of him— and if you could put that sound on repeat for the rest of your life, you'd be happy.

he pulls his fingers out and grabs the back of your head, pulling you close till your foreheads press together. you try to lean forward, to capture his lips with your own. he chuckles slightly, eyes closed, playfully rubbing his nose against yours. you whine.

"so impatient." he whispers, and then his lips are colliding with yours. it would be embarrassing if someone were to catch you two like this— more so for him than for you. thankfully, the others are busy strategizing for the night, and are not looking for either of you.

you moan softly and he bites down on your bottom lip, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. it's desperate and reckless and so full of spit— it makes you whimper into his mouth and he pulls you further into himself, as if telling you to shut up. his experience is obvious in the way he kisses, and you follow his lead. unknowingly, your hips start gently grinding against his thigh, and he lets out a soft hiss. he pulls away slightly, strings of saliva connecting your mouths. he licks it away.

"come on, sweetheart," he whispers, one hand coming down to help your hips grind against his thigh, "make yourself feel good— that's it, that's my good girl."

you moan softly, and his free hand clamps your mouth shut. he speeds his movement, clenching and unclenching the muscle of his thigh, guiding your hips to move faster against his lap. it's been so long since you've masturbated— and this is unarguably the hottest situation you've ever been in, with the hottest man you've ever seen. so you're already close. you cry out into his hand, your voice muffled. he understands what you mean and lets you move on your own speed then, pulling your head into the crook of his neck as he whispers soft words of praise into your ear.

the moment he calls you his good girl again, you cum. he muffles the sound with his hand, squeezing his eyes shut before he looks at you intensely. you collapse against him, slightly sweaty, your hands holding onto his shoulders as you cling to him. he runs his hand through your hair, breathing sharply. it's a small moment of bliss in the hell you've found yourself in.

soon, the lights go out, and dread settles in your stomach once you feel his body tensing. player 388 pulls one of the mattresses back slightly, hisses a quick "get under the bed!"

and the next game begins.

A/N: this was incredibly fun to write. i love writing him a little soft and fatherly, so deal with it. i might write a part 2 for this, if anyone wants that. this idea has been in my head for a while. i love him so, so much. this fic is my baby and i truly hope you guys like reading it as much as i liked writing it.

tags! @carolinevoight @lovers-roq @wildtigerlili @menabuser16 @deadlyobsessivfennec @watasinekoru @hanakokunzz @cowuies

[moonstruckme]

Hi my loves! I realize a lot of us use this site as an escape and I don't tend to talk about this stuff on here, but with the election coming up soon and everything going on I have to make a plea to anyone of voting age in the US

Your. Vote. Matters. I know the electoral college system is fucked, and it can feel hopeless, but a lack of faith in our ability to create change is part of what keeps unpopular people in power. Even if your state doesn't go the color you want it to during this election, your vote could tip the scales that little bit to embolden more people to vote in the next. We'll never know if we don't try. As cheesy as it sounds, change really does start with you

I’m not going to tell you who to vote for, but don’t let anyone else tell you either!! You can respect the opinions and intelligence of your friends and family without taking their word as gospel, and voting based on those without doing your own research is borderline negligent of your role in all this. Try to research both sides. Take stock of your values. Vote for who you believe can give us all the future you want to see, and don’t tell people who you voted for if that makes you more comfortable. Just make sure you're registered and make sure you're thinking for yourself. Your thoughts are important!

Also, I think it can be easy to forget, but the election in November isn't just about who will be president. Every role is important and shapes our country. Learn what is going to be on your ballot, and do what you can to figure out who you prefer for the various roles. Not all states allow you to use your phone while you vote, so I usually write down a list of names beforehand to go off of. If you don’t feel prepared to do all that, voting for just your presidential candidate is still enough, but these other officials are often the ones making the decisions that affect our day-to-day lives.

I know it's work, and with the systems in place it can sometimes feel thankless, but if you want a chance at feeling represented by the country you live in it's important to be an informed and active citizen. If you care about our impact abroad, if you've felt neglected by the government, if you want to make a difference for minority groups in the US, this is a giant part of that. Do your best. Thanks for taking the time to read and I hope you all make the decisions that are the best reflections of your true values <3

[rjalker]

but after all, aren’t you calling blue voters genocide apologists?

you don’t have to forgive genocide to vote.

there have been people in the past who voted for red candidates for political positions in order to get them kicked out.

voting is a complicated thing, and casting your vote doesn’t say anything about you.

Yes, people who voted for the party currently comitting genocide are, in fact, genocide supporters.

The people who have been screaming at minorities, including Palestinians, the literal victims of this genocide, for over a year now that we all need to shut up and support genocide to make privileged white people feel better, are in fact genocide supporters. They are in fact faschists. They are in fact racists.

That is how this works. If you vote for genocide, even to protect yourself, you are a supporter of genocide. You are by definition a racist and a fascist. You cannot vote for genocide and call yourself anti-fascist.

If you vote for the party comitting genocide, and scream at and threaten every minority who refuses to condone genocide, you are a fascist. That is how this works.

If you vote for genocide, you are complicit in genocide. If you scream and try to threaten minorities, including the literal victims of the genocide that you will wish death on them and their families if they don't support the genocide, that's fascism. That's racism. That's white supremacy. That is comitting genocide.

If you vote for people currently, happyily, loudly, and proudly comitting genocide, you are literally telling them and every single politician who comes after them that you are okay with genocide and they can and should comitt it because it won't lose them any votes, because you don't care how many people they slaughter as long as it doesn't affect you, the privileged white American who wants to keep the privileges that white supremacy and colonialism have gotten you.

If you think the people I was calling fashists weren't saying anything fascist, then that's because you don't know what fascism looks like unless it's dressed up like a Nazi and saying heil Hitler.

Fascism is privileged white Americans insisting that we must vote to commit genocide to protect their privileged positions in society. Fascism is when these people insist that we just hate Kamala because she's a Black woman and we're misogynoirists, or that we only hate Joe Biden because he's old and we're ageist.

Fascism is when people claim that Joe Biden is the most progressive President the United States has ever seen, while he is sending multiple billions of dollars worth of bombs to Israel for the sole purpose of them comitting genocide.

Fascism is when privileged white Americans speak over Black Americans, Palestinian Americans, Native Americans, and every other minority you can think of to tell us that voting for genocide is harm reduction because the most important thing in the entire world is making sure privileged white Americans get to keep their privileges.

The Vote Blue No Matter Who crowd has been filled with lying racists since before 2016. Not even 24 hours after this election was called they were en masse declaring that they're going to report anyone who didn't vote blue to ICE, even if they just didn't vote at all, or voted third party.

They literally hate non-voters and third party voters more than they hate actual real Trump supporters because they know that the people voting third party and withholding their vote are the actual minorities that its safe for them to attack.

Here's one of the articles that I have linked over half a hundred times now.

If you are actually trying to learn this time instead of just insulting me and claiming I never explain anything to anyone because I don't debate fascists, you can read it.

And here's a meme. Which I have also shared too many times to count.

[Image description start. The three panel, “Do you think Margaret Thatcher had girl power” meme, now edited so that the first panel shows the TV host asking: “Do you think you are protecting democracy by voting blue no matter who?” The second panel shows someone responding, “Yes, of course.” Panel 3 has the TV host asking, “Do you think you are protecting democracy by announcing to all politicians who will ever exist from now on that they can commit as many genocides as they want and they’ll still get elected because you literally don’t care what they do as long as they don’t do it to you?”. Image description end.]

If someone votes for genocide, that person is a fascist. If someone screams and threatens every minority they can see and try to browbeat them into supporting genocide under threat of death, that person is a fascist.

If someone refuses to admit that the current administration is even comitting genocide at all, that person is a fascist. If someone tries to pretend that genocide is good as long as it's the blue team doing it, that person is a fascist. If someone tells you that there are only two candidates in the presidential race and you have to pick the one they tell you to otherwise they'll wish death on you and every minority you care about, while ignoring the fact that there are other candidates who are actively opposed to genocide, that person is a fascist.

If someone tells you that voting third party or withholding your vote in protest of genocide is "the exact same thing as voting for Trump", because they want you to vote for the Blue Team that is literally currently comitting genocide as you read this, that person is a fashist.

If White Queer People™ tell you that you have to support the genocide of Black and brown people overseas to keep them safe, they are fascists. There's even a special word for that -- homonationalism.

If you can only recognize fascism and racism when it's blatant and Obvious, you don't know how to recognize it at all.

[kallie-den]

The Victim

Steph, a trans girl at a traditionalist college, suffers a curse that turns everyone around her into cruel, sadistic bullies. But is it really a curse at all? That depends on how she feels about it - and who comes near her

This was another story voted on my by patrons! I'd also like to make clear that it doesn't involve any transphobia directed at the main character

If you enjoy my work and are looking for more, or you want to support me, I strongly encourage you to check out my Patreon! I  write erotica full-time, which means I need your patronage to keep creating, and my Patrons also get benefits like early access to my stories, extra stories, and the ability to vote on what I write next! So, if that sounds good to you, head over and join the couple hundred patrons I already have :)

---

The pain of impact on still-fresh bruises was something Steph had come to know intimately. It tasted like metal in her mouth; like a white flash, like a thunderbolt that made her ears ring hot. It made her retreat into herself for a moment, and all the hard, cruel words being thrown at her briefly became nothing but noise. It made Steph almost grateful for the pain. But it didn’t last. It never lasted. The pain receded, and the world came back into focus.

And with it, the words.

“Look at this freak!” said the girl who had just shoved Steph back into the stairwell railing. Her pretty voice was twisted by gleeful spite. “She’s enjoying this.”

Steph’s body quivered in treasonous rapture. She tugged at the hem of her long turtleneck sweater, hoping to disguise any further reactions her body might be having. As she did, she tried to tell herself: it wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t their fault. They couldn’t help themselves.

“She really is,” sneered another girl. She jabbed at Steph with a hard, accusative finger. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

It was a familiar question, and Steph hated the way it still made her whimper. She’d heard it so many times, from so many people. She wasn’t sure which girl had said it. She stared determinedly at the ground, unwilling to check. She didn’t want to remember, and she didn’t want to see that awful look she knew she’d find in their eyes; a bright light, shining through frosted glass.

It didn’t matter who these girls were. Steph hadn’t recognized any of them when they had cornered her. They were the usual type, though. Brash, outgoing, loud, mean. Bad girls. Natural bullies, not that there was anything natural about this. Those were always the first. Steph sometimes wondered why. Was it personality, or just proximity? But in the end, that didn’t matter either.

And it wasn’t their fault. Never their fault.

Steph had hoped it would end when she left school and came to college. That’s how it was supposed to go, wasn’t it? College was where you outgrew your bullies. She’d chosen this college in particular largely because of its upper-crust, old-fashioned values. It promised to enforce strict standards of conduct on all its students, and boasted a zero-tolerance policy towards bullying or prejudice of any kind. That was very important to Steph, both because she was trans and because of her unique situation. She’d hoped that those policies and values would set her free from what plagued her.

A forlorn hope.

“Hey!” A jabbing finger hit on another old bruise. It felt like a knife. “We asked you a question, freak. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

Steph just nodded. That was what they wanted, wasn’t it? So what was the point in doing anything else?

Their chorus of laughter felt like teeth on her skin. Steph tried to clamp down hard on everything their mockery made her feel. She just needed to get through this. They’d get bored. They’d lost interest.

For today, at least.

“She doesn’t look ashamed,” one of the girls said. Her voice was so thick with mirth it almost made her voice catch. “She looks like she’s having the ride of her life.”

That pierced Steph’s armor. She twitched violently, pulling tighter on the hem of her sweater. Could they see what she was trying to hide? Maybe. She was tall; taller than any of them, even when she was stooping. She hated being so tall, especially given her condition. She hated being so visible. She needed to hide.

But the girls bullying her were closing in. Their hands were all over her, pushing and prodding, coaxing and squeezing. Threatening to tug her own hands aside. There was only so much Steph could handle, and only so much she could hide. She could feel herself blushing and sweating and shaking. Each one of their cruel laughs made it worse.

And their scents. She couldn’t block that out. Not when they were all around like this. They smelled nice. Sweet. Floral. Why did that make it so much worse? One more cruel comment, and Steph might just-

“Hey, girls,” one of them said. She sounded deeper than the others. Drunker, on Steph’s influence. “What do you say we see what’s going on under these ugly-ass clothes?”

Steph saw white. She twitched and throbbed. No. No, no, no. She needed to get a hold of herself. She needed to stop this. It was getting out of control.

But clear thinking was the very last thing she was capable of.

“N-n-noo,” Steph bleated pathetically. “You c-can’t…”

They just laughed, of course, and their laughter made Steph feel weak all over. So weak, she couldn’t stop them when they started to peel her hands away from the hem of her sweater. Soon, they’d-

“Stop that right now!”

That sudden, piercing, commanding voice left silence in its wake. All the girls bullying Steph turned to look, and that alone was an unspeakable mercy, like stepping from scorching sunlight into the. Every moment she was out of the spotlight was a moment she could use to collect herself. After taking a few deep breaths, the room around Steph stopped spinning and she was able to get a good look at her savior.

Veronica Martin.

Her reputation preceded her, although Steph had only ever actually seen her once when, in her capacity as head of student government, she’d made a speech to all the new freshmen about the school’s strict morals and high standards. In the flesh, anyway. Her image was also plastered all over the college’s promotional material. By all accounts, she was a paragon of virtue, and the perfect embodiment of all the school’s most highly-prized values.

Steph dared to hope. Maybe she was actually saved.

Veronica certainly looked like a paragon. Tall - though not as tall as Steph - with silky, black, waist-length hair, she was classically beautiful and projected a kind of serene calm that somehow made everyone around her want to win her approval and live up to her toweringly high standards. There was nothing calm about her now, though. Her face was drawn into a look of righteous, thunderous fury as she glared at the girls surrounding Steph.

“What’s going on here?” she demanded, gliding towards them.

The girls exchanged looks and titters, making a show of their bravado, but they were nervous. Steph could tell.

“Nothing, Veronica,” one of them drawled. The ringleader. “Just some girls, hanging out.”

“Really?” Veronica raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Do you expect me to believe that for even one moment? You were clearly hassling this poor girl.”

There were a few more nervous giggles. “I dunno,” the girl shot back. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

She was obviously counting on Steph to be so cowed that she’d go along with the pathetic ruse. Shamefully, it might have worked. Steph could already feel the weight of their malicious expectations on her shoulders. Why was she so weak?

“Hm.” Veronica pursed her lips as she looked at Steph. “I’m guessing she’s too scared of you to tell. But I’m not scared of petty little bullies. I’m more than happy to take this to the dean myself.”

“Please!” the girls’ ringleader scoffed. “Like he’s gonna have anything to say about a little friendly horseplay between girls.” She took a long look at Veronica, and her face twisted into a crafty, wicked, grin. “Say, Veronica, why don’t you join us? You look like you could do with blowing off a little steam.”

Steph shivered uncomfortably. Veronica, for her part, looked outraged. “Excuse me?”

“C’mon,” the girl wheedled. “You’d be surprised. I bet even you could get into our kind of fun. Don’t worry, she enjoys it too.” She nodded to Steph. “And I promise. The freak totally deserves it.”

That comment, more than any other, made Steph’s body flush with sinful heat. She closed her eyes for a moment, dreading what might have been about to happen. Mercifully, though, Veronica held firm.

“You’re vile,” she spat. “And fortunately, I don’t need anybody to admit to anything. Except for her, all of you are in violation of the school’s dress code. Heather, that skirt is obviously more than an inch above your knee. Regina, your collar is far too low. What do you think the dean would have to say about that, hm?”

A chorus of groans went up from all around Steph.

“Writing us up for dress code violations?” complained the first girl - Heather. “Are you for real?”

“I absolutely am.” Veronica folded her arms and smiled. She knew she’d won. “In fact, it would be my pleasure. So, what do you think? Do you want to run along and get changed into some more modest clothes?”

Heather glanced around at her lackeys. Even to Steph, it was obvious that their resolve was wavering. Eventually, she sighed.

“Whatever,” she groaned, surrendering. “Girls, let’s leave this stick-up-her-ass loser in the dirt.”

Moving as a pack, they started heading down the stairwell towards the exit - although before she left, Heather flashed a cruel, furious look at Steph.

“You’ll pay for this later, freak,” she snarled under her breath.

Steph shivered at what that might mean, and hated how hot it made her body.

Once they were gone, Veronica rushed to her side. The fury washed away from her face, replaced by a look of intense concern and compassion.

“Are you OK?” she asked urgently. “Did they hurt you? How badly?”

It was a lovely gesture, but her proximity set another knot in Steph’s stomach.

“N-no,” Steph started to say. “I’m f-fine, just- ah!”

Her lie was exposed when Veronica grabbed her wrist - it was only meant to be a gentle, reassuring touch, but she touched on a sensitive bruise and made Steph wince and yelp. Veronica’s frown deepened.

“You don’t need to be afraid of them,” she said gently. “I promise. Here, come with me.”

“B-but…” Steph whined as Veronica tugged at her, trying to lead her away. She needed to get out of here at once.

It’s not that she wasn’t grateful. She was. She was overflowing with gratitude towards Veronica. That was exactly the reason she needed to escape from her.

“Hey, hey,” Veronica soothed, mistaking the source of Steph’s distress. “Don’t worry. They can’t hurt you anymore. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

“I… I… b-but…” Steph whined, but soon gave up resisting. Resistance wasn’t in her nature.

Besides, it was clear that Veronica wasn’t going to be dissuaded so easily. Steph decided her best bet was to go along with her and try to assuage her worries as quickly as possible. Surely it wouldn’t be long until she let Steph flee back to her dorm room.

For now, though, Veronica took her back up the stairwell and into an empty classroom. She carefully shut the door, and then made Steph perch on one of the desks while she fussed over her, checking her for injuries and smoothing out her clothes.

“So,” Veronica said to her, “how long has this been going on?”

Steph didn’t know what to say. Veronica’s proximity was making her unbelievably nervous. “It’s… n-not…”

Veronica sighed, but put a comforting hand on her arm. “Don’t look so afraid,” she said kindly. “I’m not going to drag it out of you. And I’m certainly not going to punish you. I won’t even report this without your permission. I’m on your side, OK? I just want you to know that. I’m on your side, and I can make sure that other people are too.”

“I m-meant…” Steph looked down miserably as she was struck by a pang of guilt. “I meant it’s not their fault.”

Veronica glanced up in alarm. “Of course it is,” she said sharply. “They’re responsible for their own choices. Like choosing to hurt you.”

Steph let out a pathetic laugh. “Not… exactly.”

“Why would you say that?” Veronica sounded like her heart was breaking. “Did they make you feel that way? Did something happen?”

“U-um, n-no.” Belatedly, Steph realized she’d said too much. “No, no, t-that’s not-“

“Oh yes it did.” Veronica perched next to her. “What’s your name?”

“Steph.”

“Steph, I know I said I wouldn’t report this without your permission. And I stand by that. But… I can’t pretend I didn’t see what I saw in that stairwell. Understand? And I know those girls well enough to know they won’t lay off just because I gave them one little talking-to.” Veronica looked Steph dead in the eyes. “So. I need you to tell me exactly what’s going on?”

Steph paled. That was the very last thing she could do. “N-no!” she said, desperate, shaking her head furiously. “No way!”

Veronica folded her arms. “Well, I’m not going anywhere until you do.”

Now Steph really began to panic. She couldn’t tell. Not Veronica, not anyone. They’d never believe her - and even if they did, soon enough it wouldn’t matter.

But… if there was anyone she could ever tell, maybe it was Veronica. She wasn’t like most people. She was a pillar. Most people didn’t bother trying to help Steph. They just looked down on her pityingly, or hurried by like her victimhood was an embarrassment to them. Not Veronica. She clearly held herself to dizzyingly high standards, and even beyond that, she was a font of kindness.

Most people would have already started to succumb by now. Maybe she could take it. Maybe she could help.

It was a tempting thought. But Steph had long since learned to trample down on that kind of hope.

So, instead of baring her heart, she ran.

“S-sorry!” she cried as she leapt to her feet and started sprinting towards the classroom door.

As she ran, her cheeks burned with shame. She knew how Veronica would feel after this. Worried, anxious, perhaps even guilty. It was awful of Steph to abandon her savior like this. But it was for the best.

Unfortunately, she didn’t make it.

After just a few steps, Steph felt Veronica grab at her sleeve. Even though the older girl was just trying to take her hand, she ended up pulling Steph wildly off balance and she tumbled back into Veronica, sending them both into a heap on the ground.

“Damn it,” Veronica said. The frustration in her voice made Steph twitch nervously, even though it was directed at herself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… did I hurt you?”

She clambered off of Steph, then reached out to grab her by the wrist and help her to her feet. As soon as they touched, though, Steph recoiled from her like a terrified animal, scrambling to her feet using nearby desks and chairs for support.

Steph was tearing up. Veronica had been right on top of her. Touching her, body to body. It was the worst thing that could possibly have happened.

“Steph?” The trans girl was frantically scanning Veronica’s face, searching for the first symptoms, but there was nothing. Instead, Veronica was overflowing with concern. “You’re seriously worrying me. Is… is there something on your arm? Did they hurt you?”

“N-no!” Steph whimpered. She closed her eyes, silently praying for Veronica to just leave her alone.

“Then what?” Veronica demanded. “I know I said… but I can’t overlook this, Steph! You understand that, right? You need to tell me what’s going on. Right now.”

As she spoke, she let go of gentleness and her voice became full and commanding. Steph felt herself go hot as her body responded to Veronica’s authority with pathetic eagerness. Her mind went blank, and an answer flashed across that blankness and out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“I’m c-cursed,” Steph confessed in a weak voice. “It makes - I make - people h-hurt me.”

“Steph…” As soon as she said her name like that, Steph knew she hadn’t gotten through to Veronica. “No. No! I’m so sorry someone made you feel that way, but no. You don’t.”

“I do!” Steph’s voice turned shrill. She needed to make Veronica understand. “I do. A-and you should just get away from me, or it’ll happen to you too.”

“It won’t,” Veronica insisted. Steph wanted to believe her so badly. Veronica glanced down at Steph’s sweater. “What you’re wearing… Steph, are you hiding bruises?”

“N-no,” Steph lied instinctively, but Veronica wasn’t convinced. She advanced on Steph.

“I don’t believe you,” she said. “Show me.”

“Wha-“

An icy chill raced down Steph’s spine. Was this normal for Veronica? Where was her gentle patience from moments ago? Why was she suddenly being so forceful?

Was it just because she was freaked out? Or was it something more?

Desperately, Steph started searching her eyes. Her face. Her body language. Searching for a sign, and hoping not to see it. But all the while, Veronica was advancing on her.

“Show me!” Veronica insisted.

Her hand darted out and started tugging at one of the loose, baggy sleeves of Steph’s sweater. Taken aback, Steph tried to fight back, but Veronica was stronger and swifter. Easily manhandling the taller girl, she rolled her sleeve up all the way to the shoulder and gasped at what she saw on the skin underneath.

A mosaic of bruises, all the way from her wrist to where they disappeared beneath her t-shirt. Some old, some new; all in different shades of deep, rich blue or purple. A few were fresh enough to stick in Steph’s mind: there was one from the lady who’d sat next to her on the bus that morning, a couple from the professor she’d stayed after class to speak with, and even now, a few that she’d received from Heather and her friends were starting to blossom.

Steph knew exactly what it looked like, and as Veronica silently inspected her bruised skin, she whimpered at the pity she could see in her eyes. But then she saw something else too. A slight, unnatural dilation of her pupils. A certain glazed dullness over the light of her kindness. The tiniest flaring of her nostrils, like she was catching Steph’s scent for the first time.

It was almost nothing, but it made Steph’s heart pound.

“How…” Veronica murmured, after a moment. “How could anyone do this to you?”

Without seeming to realize what she was doing, she started tracing her fingertips lightly over the bruises. It was like she was mesmerized by them. Frantic, Steph tried to reassure herself. This was a normal way to react. Veronica was just surprised, that was all. There was still hope.

If Steph couldn’t run, hope was all she had.

"How long has this been going on?” Veronica asked, her voice still soft.

“For years,” Steph confessed. It felt good to unburden herself, despite everything. “N-not just them, I mean. In high school. There were others.”

Veronica nodded thoughtfully. Steph couldn’t read her expression. “You… haven’t tried to stop it? One way or another?”

“There’s nothing I can do,” Steph replied miserably. “At first I tried going to teachers. B-but soon enough they were, well…”

“Have you tried standing up for yourself?”

The question stung a little, mostly because Steph didn’t have a good answer. She’d just never had that kind of fight in her. Whenever she found herself in that kind of situation, she was always undermined by other desires, ones that were hard to articulate and even harder to defend.

“I-I… just…” Steph looked down. “I c-can’t…”

“Hm.” Veronica looked down too, and muttered under her breath: “Honestly, it’s like you’re not even trying.”

Steph’s blood ran cold. “W-what?”

“Oh, nothing.” Veronica looked up again, and she was smiling. The scorn Steph thought she’d heard in her voice had left just as quickly as it had appeared. “It’s just that this is so awful. Steph, I promise you, one way or another, I’ll put a stop to this.”

“T-thank you.” Steph blushed and nodded.

Please. Please. Please let it not affect her.

“I won’t let this be a school where students bully and injure one another in the corridors,” Veronica continued, her conviction growing. “No. That just won’t do. I have a responsibility. A moral responsibility.”

Steph nodded again, but cautiously. There was so much zeal in Veronica’s voice. And for some reason, she’d started squeezing Steph’s wrist a little tighter.

“I think it’s important to get to the root of the problem,” Veronica went on, muttering to herself. “You always need to deal with the ringleader. The instigator.”

“V-Veronica,” Steph whined. “That’s… it kinda h-hurts…”

She was talking about her arm. Veronica was squeezing tighter and tighter on her wrists, provoking complaints from Steph’s bruises. Veronica seemed to pause for a moment, suddenly lucid, and briefly Steph dared to hope that her good nature would triumph.

The moment passed.

“It’s you,” Veronica decided. “You’re to blame.”

Steph thought she was going to throw up, even as her cheeks started to burn treasonously. “W-w-what?”

“You heard me.” The kind Veronica was gone. She was a disciplinarian now, just like she had been with the bullies, but all of it was now directed at Steph. “You. You’re the one who needs to be punished.”

“B-b-but…”

The room around Steph was spinning. It had gone wrong so fast. Why was she surprised? It was always like this. She was cursed. It was her own fault, for letting Veronica get close to her. Why had she ever entertained those foolish hopes? Steph felt awful.

But that didn’t stop her from being incredibly turned on.

“You said so yourself,” Veronica told her sternly. “It’s your fault. You’re the common denominator, Steph. You’re…”

She paused for a moment and frowned. It was like she was struggling to rationalize what her new impulses were telling her. Struggling to square them with her long-held morals. Steph didn’t know what to make of that. She’d never seen anyone struggle like this.

“You’re encouraging them,” Veronica said slowly, pushing through the cognitive dissonance she should have felt. “You… you shouldn’t be so tempting. You’re disrupting this nice, harmonious school. Why do you have to make such a spectacle of yourself?”

"I’m… not…” Steph was blinking back tears. It was nothing she hadn’t heard before, but it always felt like a knife twisted in her gut. Somehow, coming from Veronica, it was even worse. “I-I mean, I wasn’t trying to…”

“It’s indecent,” Veronica said sternly. “No wonder those girls were…” She paused, correcting herself. “Well. No. No, they’re troublemakers too, of course. Bullies. I’ll deal with them. But you. You’re the root of it. Aren’t you?”

“N-n-no!” Steph cried. She was turning her head this way and that, but there was no avoiding Veronica’s gaze. “I mean… no, um, yes, but not, l-like that, I-“

“So you admit it?” Veronica interrupted. “Shameless. Utterly shameless.”

“I…”

Steph didn’t know how to articulate that she was very far from shameless. Shame was all she felt. It coursed through her like a current, making her hate herself, making her body burn with its passing.

"What am I going to do with you?” Veronica finally let go of Steph’s wrist and started pacing a short track back and forth across the floor - although she kept herself, Steph noticed, between her and the door. “I can’t let you go on like this. Corrupting people.”

“I-I’m sorry…” Steph wasn’t sure if Veronica actually understood what was happening to her. But it didn’t matter now. She was too far gone.

At least, Steph thought so. As she apologized, Veronica looked at her and seemed to soften. Maybe there was still something of the good, principled student president inside her. The kind of girl who would always accept an apology. But, all too soon, it faded.

“I have to keep you away from them,” Veronica decided. “I can’t trust you out there, with girls like Heather. The last thing they need is you, making them even worse. Maybe… no, no, even the professors and deans. You’d get to them too. I… it has to be me. I’m the only one who can be trusted to uphold this school’s morals.”

Steph’s stomach sank into an abyss. What did that mean?

“Yes. Yes.” Veronica was pacing faster. Finding her rhythm. “No more awful spectacles like that in the stairwells. I’ll… I’ll have the dean appoint me as your personal tutor. You can move to a different dorm room, too. The one next to mine.”

Suddenly, it dawned on Steph who she was dealing with. Veronica wasn’t some random bully. She was the head of student government. She had power - and unlike some of the professors who had tormented Steph, she didn’t need to be so worried about propriety.

If she got her way, there would be no escaping her.

“It’ll help you too, of course,” Veronica reasoned. Steph could sense her good nature bending and warping with each passing moment. “None of these other girls will be able to hurt you. I won’t let you get your filth all over them.”

Inwardly, Steph was begging herself to say something. Do something. This was all going so wrong. Worse and worse by the moment. She needed to put a stop to it. But as usual, she couldn’t think. Her body was on fire. Why was she like this? She couldn’t tell if this sick pleasure was part of the curse, or simply a sickness deep in her soul.

“Yes. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.” Veronica had clearly made up her mind. She stopped pacing, and grabbed at Steph’s arm again. Steph was too terrified even to flinch. “No need for any more of these awful bruises.”

At that moment, she seemed to pause. Her nostrils flared again, and the look in her eyes became even more glazed. Something was tugging at her. Upsetting the equilibrium she had only just found. Steph held her breath.

“But.” Veronica said it like it was a mere afterthought, but the pause that followed made it dreadful. It was like something was growing inside her. Her hand clamped back down on Steph’s wrist. “You need to be punished.”

“P-please…”

Both of them froze. It had come out of Steph’s mouth not just as a plea, but as a moan. It sounded like she had been begging - and suddenly, Steph couldn’t be sure that she hadn’t. A look of vicious scorn dawned on Veronica’s face.

"Take off your clothes,” she commanded coldly.

Steph trembled like a leaf. “N-no,” she whimpered, but already, she was obeying. Veronica’s instruction went straight through her. She felt helpless to refuse. So, she lifted her sweater off over her head. Then came her t-shirt, exposing yet more bruises. Then, her long skirt. She stopped there, hoping it would be enough. It was, but standing there in her bra and panties made her feel plenty exposed.

Especially since there was no longer any hope of hiding how aroused she was.

Veronica’s eyes quickly settled on the distinct tent in Steph’s panties. “You’re…” she breathed. “You’re enjoying this. Aren’t you? Are you some kind of pervert?”

Steph shook her head in mute denial, but the way her cock twitched at the disgust in Veronica’s voice made a liar of her. Veronica took a step towards her.

“You really do need to be punished,” she said coldly. “Bend over.”

Steph was deep under her spell now. She moved to obey - but not quickly enough. Veronica was soon on her, forcing her around and throwing her forward so that she slumped breathlessly over the nearest desk.

She had been so gentle, just minutes ago.

“It’s for your own good,” Veronica insisted. She rested a hand on Steph’s back, pushing down with her weight, keeping the sniffing, whimpering trans girl helpless. “It’s for your own good.”

Was there a twinge of regret and conflict in her voice? Was she trying to hold herself back? It was such a tantalizing possibility, but Steph just couldn’t be sure.

The possibility seemed far more remote as soon as she felt Veronica’s other hand come down hard on her bare, already-bruised ass.

Steph cried out and bucked like a wounded horse. Tears started to fall down her cheeks - tears of pain and humiliation both. The pain was so sharp. So intimate. It was more than even she was used to, and Veronica wasn’t going to give her time to brace herself for the next blow. It came quickly, and then the next, and then the next.

“You deserve this,” Veronica grunted. Her voice was labored from exertion. “You’re making me do this. Remember that.”

The words stung perhaps even worse than the spanks. It was true, after all, even if Veronica herself didn’t understand quite how true. The shame it brought Steph was all but nauseating, but even that was transformed into simmering pleasure inside her. Shame was one of her biggest turn-ons. Pain was too. Steph was helpless in the face of her own desires.

How good it all felt was another twist of the knife. The shame she felt at feeling like she had turned Veronica into an instrument of her own pleasure was overwhelming. And, of course, that felt good too. It compounded on itself, again and again, making a ruined, pathetic wretch out of her.

“You should be apologizing.” Veronica was putting all her strength into beating Steph, and it was making her voice harsh and guttural. “Don’t you have any shame?”

“I-I-I’m sssorryyy.” The words left Steph’s mouth as an incoherent, drooling moan. She barely knew what she was supposed to be apologizing for.

It was hard to think about anything at all when each spank made her shudder, and made her cock rub against the hard, cold desk beneath her through her panties.

Steph wasn’t a stranger to being hurt. Far from it. All too often, it was a daily fact of life. But there was something different about Veronica’s spanking. It wasn’t random, impulsive, self-satisfied violence. There was a ritual to it. Veronica was sticking to a firm rhythm, and her attention was given over completely to the task at hand. Something about her methodical, dedicated manner made butterflies flit and fly in Steph’s stomach.

This wasn’t violence. It was discipline.

Eventually, the blows stopped. Steph lingered for a moment in fearful anticipation, but when nothing more came, she finally relaxed. She wasn’t sure if it was that Veronica had meted out her full punishment, or if she’d simply tired of hitting her. Either way, it was a relief.

Punishment was an unbelievable catharsis.

A few seconds more passed, and Veronica let up on her back. Timidly, Steph straightened up and turned around. Her face was so red she could feel it burning, and her hair was a mess. Even though she was taller than Veronica, she couldn’t resist the urge to shrink into herself and hunch down until they were almost the same height. Everything was hot. Only Veronica’s gaze was frigid.

“Maybe…” the other girl began slowly. Her face registered a faint shock. Steph noticed the glazed look in her eyes beginning to fade. Was it over? “Maybe I went a little too… I’m s-”

She broke off and looked down. All too late, Steph realized what she was staring at. The front of her panties.

Steph was harder than ever, and her panties were stained with wetness that was beginning to dribble down and coat her inner thighs. Once she noticed too, she bent down and crossed her hands in front of herself, but there was no hiding it now. Veronica had already seen. She knew exactly what kind of a freak Steph was.

“You’re still…” Veronica’s voice sounded distant for a moment, but as she spoke, more feeling came back into it, and that feeling was hard and cruel. “How are you still…”

Her nostrils flared again. Her eyes faded almost completely. It was a ghoulish spectacle, like the girl in front of Steph had, just for a brief moment, been switched off and hollowed out. But what happened next was even worse. Something came to fill in the void, something new and awful, once it made its home inside her head, the light that appeared behind Veronica’s eyes was vicious and gleeful in a way that truly, deeply, didn’t suit her. It was like a devil was possessing her. The transformation was subtle, but unmistakable.

Especially to Steph, frozen solid in terror. She knew exactly what was coming next.

Sadism.

A weird, lopsided, unsteady grin washed over Veronica’s face. “God,” she spat. “You really are a freak.”

Steph trembled and whimpered. “P-please,” she said quietly. “Please s-stop. You don’t have to…”

She trailed off. She didn’t know what to say, and she was sure there was no use to it. She just felt, she supposed, an obligation to try and save Veronica. To salvage her, her kindness and her good nature, from what Steph’s awful curse had made out of her.

It was no use.

“Shut up,” Veronica growled, and punched Steph straight in the gut.

The sudden blow took her completely off guard, and Steph bent double as all the air was forced out of her lungs. She retched, although nothing came up, and slumped against the desk for stability. The pain was a black hole. It sucked in all of Steph’s being for many long moments until she was able to finally catch her breath.

Then, the sound of laughter.

She looked up. It was Veronica, of course. She was laughing at Steph. Laughing at her pain. Discipline wasn’t enough for Steph’s curse. Discipline had limits and bounds. At some point, discipline stopped. So, the curse it had pushed Veronica further. Beyond discipline, to simple violence.

“Maybe I was too hard on those girls,” Veronica mused. She was breathing hard again, but not just from exertion. From excitement. “You make this so hard to resist, Steph.”

Steph hated that she could do nothing but whimper and whine. Arousal and guilt were like two wolves, gnawing at the inside of her chest. Seeing Veronica like this was awful. Her face shone with glee at seeing Steph suffer, at making her hurt, and it was just so petty. So unworthy of her. A paragon of virtue, warped into a mere bully.

Why was it so hot?

“Oh, don’t worry about them,” Veronica added. “I won’t let them at you again. No, it’s like I said. You’re all mine now. All mine to take care of.”

Steph looked down. She couldn’t tell if she should be grateful, or horrified. She’d never had a bully quite like this. One who was so determined to keep her close at their side, and who had the power to actually make that happen.

Maybe there was no point trying to decide how to feel about it. After all, whatever happened, happened. It was out of her control now.

She was Veronica’s.

“Come on,” Veronica barked at her. She was already shaking slightly, like she was eager to throw another punch, but instead, she threw Steph’s discarded clothes at her. “We’re going to go and speak to the dean about our new arrangement.”

Meekly, Steph obeyed. She’d long since learned that there was no point in pretending she could fight back.

This - all of this - was simply in her nature.

—

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[jewishconvertthings]

Hello,

I’m considering converting and have been for a long time, but I’m not sure whether to go with a reform rabbi or a conservative rabbi for the conversion. Reform Judaism is probably what I would practice after converting, but I also know that reform conversions are not recognized by some other rabbis and branches of Judaism. I want to be able to travel to different places and visit different communities and still be considered a Jew. But, I’m wondering how much this would actually be affected by me converting with a reform rabbi instead of a conservative rabbi. Am I actually going to be asked what branch I converted with? Am I ever going to have to “prove” that I’m really Jewish? Or will most people and communities just accept that I am if I say I am?

Hi anon,

So I'm not sure how this applies out abroad, but assuming you're in the US, many/most liberal movements will accept each other's conversions. You may occasionally come across a Conservative shul that is more stringent about you needing to have had kabbalat mitzvot as part of your conversion, along with all of the other traditional steps. Most Reform rabbis strongly encourage (but some do not require) you to have a brit milah or hatafat dam brit (if relevant to your anatomy) and/or tevilah (immersion in the mikvah.) All rabbis require a significant period of structured study; that may be a reading list for self study or it may be a Judaism 101 class. All rabbis are going to want you to spend significant time within the community to experience the holidays, Shabbat, the people, and the culture to make sure this is your forever home first. You will then need to have a beit din to finalize the process when you and your rabbi both think you are ready.

If you are wanting your conversion to be accepted by the widest swath of liberal Jews, you should make sure that you complete all the above-mentioned steps, including mikvah and (if relevant) having a bris (whether that's a hatafat dam brit or brit milah.) The Conservative movement requires all of these steps, and also requires that you accept responsibility for all of the mitzvot and the binding nature of halacha (kabbalat mitzvot.) The Reform movement doesn't include this part because it fundamentally doesn't view halacha as binding. While many Conservative communities/rabbis will overlook this last one in general, they may become more strict if you are, say, trying to become a long-term Conservative Jew and/or a member of the shul. (I will say, though, that the Conservative movement doesn't require its affiliated shuls to require that all voting members are halachicly Jewish to community standards. This was a way to include more Jewish adjacent or Jewish but not halachicly Jewish members of the community. So it honestly probably wouldn't even get brought up in that situation either.) If you are trying to get married by a Conservative rabbi, you may run into trouble without briefly redoing the beit din to include kabbalat mitzvot, but I think that's probably the most likely scenario in which this information would be chased down including a paper trail and phone call to your conversion rabbi. Otherwise I seriously doubt it would come up.

As for just rolling through a minyan in your travels (post-conversion)? Literally just tell them you're Jewish, because you are. You don't owe anyone an elaboration unless the rabbi or gabbaim ask, and that's honestly unlikely. No one else is halachicly allowed to ask you about your conversion anyway.

I strongly recommend converting within the community that fits your view of Judaism and needs best, and not worrying about other people validating your conversion. As someone who is more traditional spectrum and does view halacha as binding, I take very seriously the idea of accepting the mitzvot upon yourself as a binding matter. If that's not you, don't make promises you don't intend to keep based on what a handful of judgemental people might think. They really don't matter and they shouldn't get to make major life decisions like "what kind of Jew am I?" for you. The rest of us? Honestly we're just glad if you show up at 7 a.m. to be Jew #10.

[plebeiangoth]

I'm really fucking angry, yet shouldn't be surprised, that apparently a lot of even you guys need a reminder that it is top priority for us in the US right now to keep Trump out of the Oval Office. No, now isn't the time to pick nits about the Harris Walz ticket, that isn't the ticket with Project 2025. Not only is Project 2025 my nightmare and yours, it could be a fucking reality if you guys keep perpetuating the idea that "voting doesn't matter" because it sure does seem to matter when the majority of the voter base continues to be old conservatives who never miss an election and want to go back to the McCarthy era.

Check your voter registration

If you're not registered, get it done before it's too late

A reminder of what Project 2025 is

Or you could read the damn thing for yourself, it's available for free

Or have a funny British man explain it to you, no it's not any easier

No, the current administration didn't fix a lot of the problems Trump started. Kids are still held in cages at the border, the SCOTUS which Trump assembled overturned Roe v Wade, and Biden not only didn't do anything about it but is also selling weapons to Israel because apparently both sides of the aisle are totally chill about genocide. Things haven't gotten better since Trump but DO YOU FUCKING THINK THAT LETTING HIM BACK INTO THE OFFICE IS A GOOD IDEA??? The same guy who incited an insurrection because he lost a democratic election? Who tried to build a wall across the US/Mexico border? Not to mention that his presidency emboldened the kind of people who, say, murdered George Floyd in broad daylight in the streets of Minneapolis.

Will the Harris Walz vote fix these problems? Probably fucking not. But they sure as shit ain't pushing Project 2025 which will, with absolute certainty, turn the US into a worse "Christian" theocratic dystopia than it already is. If we keep allowing this shit to happen because we didn't vote, then it's our fault. I know the electoral system is broken, I've gone down the rabbit hole too fucking many times to try to understand it, stop preaching to the choir.

If you block me or dog-pile me for telling you to vote then whatever, congrats on literally electing to shut me up and proving my point that you actually have some fucking impact on the word around you. Fuck around with that shit at the polls and find out maybe.

[chaoskirin]

Every once in a while, there's a comment on one of my political posts that's like "YEAH YOU'RE VOTING FOR THE PERSON DOING GENOCIDE, IDIOT" and...

I really don't think people realize that Trump would ALSO do genocide, but WORSE. You all do realize that he's not going to get into office and stop the Palestinian genocide, right? In fact, he will very likely send MORE WEAPONS to Israel to make sure they can do genocide even more efficiently. You do realize that, right? And he'll probably fund Russia's war, too. These aren't random hypotheticals. He is signaled very strongly that these are his intentions.

This isn't me "not caring" about people who aren't me. It's that I'm intelligent enough to realize the choice I have is between two people who will commit genocide, and I have a responsibility to pick the person who will cause less harm.

If I have to pick between a person who will kill 10,000 people and a person who will kill 1,000,000 people, who's the better choice? The best option is "neither," but having no president at all isn't a result that can happen in an election. One of them WILL be president.

I don't know how there's some people out there who don't get that, besides knowing there's a HUGE echo chamber that's telling people not to vote. Progressives are NOT immune to those echo chambers, and, in fact, seem to be more susceptible to them because so many are seeking to vote for the perfect candidate.

You have to think for yourself. You have to look at facts. You HAVE TO QUESTION EVERYTHING YOU READ. Think about the consequences of a Trump presidency, not only here, but for the Palestinians and Ukrainians. It would be really easy for you to vote third party, and it would probably feel pretty good at the moment. But then you lose your right to do Surprised Pikachu Face when Trump is elected and makes himself a dictator.

I am not trying to shame you. You gotta stop looking at this as shaming. This is fucking history. This is what has happened before. This isn't a slippery slope fallacy. It is literally in our past, and I'm here telling you it's in our past and what's going to happen if people keep talking exactly like they did in 2016.

Me telling you you're wrong and telling you the consequences of your actions isn't me trying to make you feel bad. It's me trying to tell you to cause less harm in the small way you're able to do that. I'm not guessing here. I'm not making things up to get you to vote how I want you to vote. I cannot stress enough that I have lived through this shit before.

Then I also see a lot of people telling me I should really be posting about what Biden can do for us here to make people feel better about voting for him.

That would also make a lot of people feel good, but that's not what this vote is about. Biden has done a lot of good things, but that literally doesn't matter in this vote. What matters is preventing an absolute catastrophe. The MAIN ISSUE is preventing a catastrophe.

I know some of you don't like what I'm telling you--that this platform is essentially between two unfavorable candidates. But you really are voting for the future of democracy in this country. That's what should inspire you. And if this is dissuading you from voting, well, I don't know what to tell you. Not everything in life gets to have a positive spin to it. Find a reason and vote.

[lizzydizzyyo]

Listen I'm not american I don't know shit about what you're going through, and to be honest, between the people who keep telling everyone to vote blue no matter what and the people who say both dems and reds are equally bad, idk who to believe anymore because I'm not there.

In perfect circumstance, you won't have to vote for either. The thing is, if you don't want to, you have to put in the work. You have to go down the streets and make your own grassroot movements to make sure you get enough people on board with an independent candidate. You need to do some sleuthing and deep research, quickly. Then stick with that.

I'm sure the "vote blue no matter what" people want to vote for a decent candidate too, but at this point, there isn't one that is feasible. Dems are slightly, marginally, microscopically better, so they latch onto that because there is nobody else. If you want independent candidate to be elected, you need to do more than just reblogging and writing tags about how "vote blue no matter what" people are fucking dense and evil and part of the problem.

These people latch onto dems because they don't know anyone else having good chance of winning, that is just not republican. Yes, you can argue all you want about how Biden is just as bad when it comes to immigration and Palestine genocide issue (although he was trying very hard to find ways to absolve student loan and codify gay marriage before everything went to shit, and for better or worse, he took US army out of Afghanistan in 2021). But you still don't know how much worse/better/similar it would be if Trump were in charge right now. It's not like when Trump held office, there wasn't any major Palestine/Gaza conflict or immigration issue either.

You need to convince these "vote blue no matter what" people to switch to your side, not with derision or insults or swearing or blaming, but by presenting them with an option who actually has a chance of winning. This candidate also needs a lot of backing because they're not just going against one party, but two parties.

You need to choose one independent candidate, at the very least by March, and do hardcore hands-on campaigning for this candidate until ballot day. Again, not with insult but with educating the plus points of this candidate and call for action. You need to be willing to be vocal beyond reblogging angrily on tumblr. You need to get over yourself and get the fuck off your high horse and start picking and sticking to your independent candidate you choose.

As someone coming from a country with upcoming election in 2024 too, who actually has three pairs of candidates to choose from (and mixture of parties, because there are over a dozen parties in my country and they can form coallition freely), it isn't the end-all-be-all that you think it is. It isn't easy or reassuring because the "good" candidate cannot rely on party backing or culture backing (one of the candidate is hardline syariah muslim campaigner so they have religious extremists' backing, and the other is the right hand man of my country's past dictator who reigned terror over the country for decades so they have the military's backing).

It's not the magical solution that you think it is. Some people simply plan to not vote at all because they have no hope that the "good" candidate will win and they don't want to give any vote to the other two either (Sound familiar? Anyone?). "But your country has popular/ranked voting!" Yeah, and guess what, when my country's dictator was the president, the "election" was by popular voting too.

Fact of the matter is, your country doesn't have it, and won't have it anytime soon. So be realistic.

If you want an independent candidate to win, you need to suck it up and be kind to the "vote blue no matter what" people. Present them with hope and solution instead of compounding their already deep sense of impending doom. You're doing yourself, your country, and the world (yes, hate it all you want as I do too, but USA unfortunately has quite a big influence globally) disservice by alienating them instead of inviting them to become your comrades in championing a decent independent candidate.

You need to make "vote blue no matter what" your allies, not enemies.

[mrsgojosatoru]

And I knew, I fully KNEW that after Trump was elected democrats would swing hard to the right and implode. And that is what is happening.

can u expand on this? why would they behave this way when youth and poc were enthusiastic for bernie in 2020

Because ALL politicians serve at the behest of our ruling class. For democrats it's not about winning the youth vote and people of color, it's not even about winning at all -- they fund raise better as losers -- it's about making sure the wealthy keep as much of their wealth as they can.

Republicans get in office, do a bunch of tax cuts, increase military spending, get rid of public goods and to get their votes cut rights to minorities. Unlike democrats Republicans work best as winners. And unlike democrats they LOVE fulfilling their campaign promises.

Then after our country has been decimated, there's no money to support community needs, and people have been stripped of their rights democrats come in and go "you NEED us." Then they dangle protecting our rights like a carrot. They go "you don't want .... [insert x fear tactic here. Project 2025. National abortion ban. Rolling back same sex marriage]. Then they fundraise and run on that. You can note that Biden is REALLY short on campaign promises as a winner. He doesn't know what to sell you other than fear mongering. Vote for him he's not Donald Trump.

When democrats get in office they don't actually .... do anything. They just make liberals feel okay about violence against people of color at home and globally, and do ... nothing. Like ask yourself, really ask yourself. Liberals were all up in arms over Trump but did they care about any of the following?

Do people care about those kids in cages now? Because the kids are still cages. Did they care about border patrol agents whipping people at the border? Did they push Obama to follow through on his campaign promise to codify Roe v Wade? Did they get up in arms over Biden wanting to pass the most draconian immigration reform in the past thirty years? Wanting to continue the border wall? Funding for the genocide of the Palestinians? Drone striking Yemen for their blockade of their own waters?

Nope! In fact they tell you to keep voting for Biden because he's the lesser of two evils when ... is he? I'm not saying he hasn't done anything, but I am saying that like ... he could do a lot more. For democrats our rights and equality isn't actually something to be protected they are something to dangle over our heads and threaten us with. Vote for us or else. Then do nothing meaningful about protecting them.

Because at the end of the day our ruling class just cares about staying wealthy. Lower taxes, lower wages, more shoes to fill their thankless minimum wage jobs. So they get politicians who will keep us beat down fighting to be seen as people, and we can never move forward in class equity.

The democratic party winning and surviving doesn't matter to them. If they implode under fascism they don't care. So long as the rich can stay rich. It's why they saw some enthusiasm for Bernie Sanders, collapsed the establishment immediately behind Clinton and Biden and pushed us straight towards this exact situation.

The ruling class would kill us all to hold on to their money and power a little longer, and that is at the root of everything.

[sparklywatercolors]

if i may say something. it takes a flower only a few weeks to grow, meanwhile a tree it takes years and years. Would you say the tree is lazy and terrible because it takes so long? no, because all thigns grow and live at there won pace. This isnt even accounting for outside factors. do not measure your own growth against the growth of others, it is unfair to yourself. especially if you dont consider outside factors and things like that. you are growing at your own pace, be kind to yourself because you deserve it.

I needed to hear that, thank you. I have just been through so much, I feel like I'm still a little little sapling (using the tree example). I think I was overreacting earlier, because you're right. I have been growing. I often tell others that everyone has their own lessons to learn in this lifetime, and yet, here I am wanting things now now now, but I always get hit with roadblocks. I think I need to be more patient with myself. Cause I took it slow with applying to internships, and here I am as a technical writer for a small start up that barely got traction, and my article got them like 10x the amount of readers they had before. (And also my team is rly nice and :((( so encouraging i love them all). Last year, I was allowing some real gross people in my life, allowing them to physically, mentally (you name it!) abuse me. But now I don't take that shit. I have been learning my boundaries. And also, I do so much to help others, sure I don't have a job right now, but that doesn't mean I never will, that doesn't mean the research and volunteer work I do, means nothing. Hell, a few weeks ago, my one environmental group had a Zoom meeting "awards" night. And I was voted as the kindest editor. Who cares about the award, I got to hear the reasons why, I broke down SOBBING. I was told I never give up on anyone, no matter how "bad" they're doing. And that I made everyone feel seen and heard and valued. ((My supervisor had to ask if I was okay, because I was blubbering during me saying thank you, i love you guys so much. )) I have to sit and wonder, why don't I do the same for myself? Why don't I make myself seen and heard. Sure I keep a diary but, it's mostly me talking about others and their accomplishments. I think I might need to treat my smallest accomplishments as a big deal. It might seem silly to some, but as someone who is just *going through it* I think it's a great idea. But thank you for this. <3.

[mysoulismelting]

Ok so I don't typically post anything that can be considered political on my page cause it's supposed to be my little happy space free from torment on the internet but I feel like I'm loosing my fucking mind right now.

WE NEED TO STOP FIGHTING WITH EACH OTHER.

Political parties are the stupidest fucking thing that was ever invented- I hate to break it to you, but you're not all so different. Lots of people have the same ideologies as you and are on the "other side" of the political spectrum, but you are only hearing the outspoken angry people.

You ever play that game "we become what we behold"? It is a prime example of what's happening right now.

Anyways that's not my point right now.

My point is:

No one who is part of the 1% or in power wants to or is going to help you.

The government? Doesn't want to help you. Those billionaires? They don't wanna help you. Anyone who is running for president or any government position? They won't help you.

There has been an exorbitant amount of time for policies to be put into place to help the people who are struggling today. The only people who are in power or want power today are people who want to control you. I'm not talking about making it safer for people- I'm saying they want to continue to exploit and abuse the working class for their own gain.

And if we don't come together and fight the common enemy?

We'll continue to become more and more enslaved to corporate greed.

For once, stop complaining on the fucking internet and fighting with people you won't ever see in person in your lifetime and look at the people in power. They are the ones oppressing you. Not some random joe shmoe on Twitter. The political party they are with doesn't matter. They don't care about you. You are nothing but a bug under their shoe. You can "call them out" on the internet all you want, but that won't do anything in the long run. Register to vote, sure- your options are all ass- Do your own research look at what bills they endorsed or if they had been in the government before look at what they promised and what they delivered.

None of these old bags running are gonna tell you the truth, whether they're republican or democrat or an individual runner. Cause they wanna win. Start pushing for actually beneficial bills, make petitions, fuck run for president yourself.

As the people we're supposed to have the power. But we aren't fucking acting like it. Stop letting these old mother fuckers make outdated decisions and start pushing back. There are more of us than there are them.

I'm not saying riot or storm the white house for fucks sake. I'm saying do the paperwork, work with your local government, push back against the insane amount of leniency the government gives themselves.

They want us to fight with each other because it keeps our eyes off them.

If we keep looking at the state of our country and going "eh someone else will fix it" nothing will get done. I'm sure you know the bystander effect.

The people you see everyday are not so different from you. And guess what? We're all humans and we're all learning as we go. So the last thing you should do is ridicule or harass someone who's goal is to learn and better themselves for a better future. We need to stop acting like one different opinion means we can't get along with each other- because guess what? If we only interact with the most extreme sides of the spectrum we'll never learn from each other. It's okay to change your opinion when you are exposed to new information- stop acting like it's not.

This is not a post about anyone specific or anything specifically happening. I just want people to stop fighting each other when they have just as little power as the other person.

At this point I hate this point and really don't want to post it cause people have a habit of misinterpreting things said on the internet, but I think I will this time.

I'll reblog this with a link with an official list of current bills. If I can find anything else helpful I'll add it too. I can also look for more specific things if asked nicely. I'll see if I can get a link for voter registration too. Since things vary state to state I can only do so much. On more reminder that I don't want to fight with anyone, I want to be as helpful as possible.

[dngrcpckwithmurdericing]

OTW Note: tldr they DO exchange money for labor

I agree with a lot of the critique I have seen of the OTW in the past few weeks. The OTW is a toxic place, and has been the entire time its existed, as far as I can tell from both my experience 10 years ago, and the stories of the people who came before and after me.

What people keep repeating for some reason is that the OTW does not exchange money for labor, that everyone must be a volunteer.

Y'all. This is not true. The OTW does, in fact, exchange money for labor. They have in the past, as far as I am aware, both hired people for money to do specific coding/hardware jobs, and also in 2014 hired someone who did not describe herself as a "mediation specialist" but basically was that. (She wrote in an email that she described herself as someone who "focuses on facilitation, effective communication, transparency, addressing burn-out, and related matters".) This was forwarding that particular board's agenda of a PAID ombuds committee (which never happened, according to this list) and internal board dispute help and procedure. (I'm sure no one is surprise to hear that I quit my volunteer work with the OTW due to the kind of bullying I hadn't experienced since being the only Jewish kid in a small Christian town in the 80s.)

So what is happening here? The OTW just doesn't want to pay for SPECIFICALLY ANTIRACIST LABOR. I guess???? I mean, who knows, but that's sure what it looks like.

I have seen people recommend that the only way to change the OTW is from within, by volunteering. Gonna echo Denise/synecdochic here: I DO NOT RECOMMEND ANYONE VOLUNTEER FOR THE OTW. Do not do it. You will think to yourself, "But surely *I* will be able to stand against the forces of evil and effect change." And then you will end up working 40 hours a week for the OTW on top of your full time job, and also coughing up blood from the stress and sadness.

And if you're volunteering for them right now, quit.

Additionally, I think that if you haven't already, put your money where your mouth is, and quit donating more to the OTW than the $10 you need to donate in order to be able to vote in the board elections - although given the board's recent communications, seems like they are pretty powerless, might as well save your money for a fancy coffee. I sure will be.

[chargetheintruder]

Something's gone wrong.

Well, okay, I'll level with you, lots of things have gone wrong. That's my fatal flaw: I can't multitask for shit, and I've had to juggle things alongside my health's getting worse and worse . . . and well, I am going to hit a breaking point soon. Something's going to fail within me soon, and I might end up in a nursing home or a psych ward or something if I don't get enough time this month to see a proper doctor and find out what actually IS wrong with me. And yes, it could be the public housing authority that pushes me too hard, or the so-called "healthcare provider" either one.

And at that point I will have to start telling people, as much as possible, that I've failed them, that I've failed you, and that I am sorry my body and mind aren't good enough for this world.

But this isn't what I'm talking about mainly.

What's on my mind is this: We've been doing things right, if not well, so far, in terms of replacing Joe Biden in this election, and yet, things are still really off. In spite of the enthusiasm.

What I mean by this is simply: sure, ridicule and understatement DO throw off control-freaks and fascists. But that by itself has never worked in terms of keeping a dictator out of power. At some point the wannabe tyrants show up with guns. And that might not even be Trump and his--it might be others acting "in the name of" Trump and his.

It would be Prudent As Fuck to have more than one Plan B for dealing with this. Trump's sentencing, for his 34 guilty counts, is one Plan B, but it won't be much of a Plan B if he doesn't go to prison, and/or if others are willing and able to raise hell "in his name" no matter what the sentence is.

No, seriously. Ask yourself: what happens when Kamala Harris has to raise her voice and say MORE THAN "I'm speaking"? Does this Tim Walz have it in him to shout an enemy down? So far the "light touch, let them own themselves" approach has worked wonders, but at some point soon it won't. The other side has DONE one insurrection already, on January 6th, 2020. They will do another one, and worse.

And these ARE the same people who routinely shoot women of color dead FOR speaking. Yes, the other side still believes they have the police in their pockets.

So, there needs to be three or four Plans B, or contingencies, just in case Trump's sentencing doesn't do anything productive. The meathead side of the alt-right needs to be preempted and shut down before they get it together and try anything forceful. That is absolutely necessary: they already have their book in their hands, sponsored by J.D. Vance, that has written the rest of us off as "not human."

I'm serious. You shut down shit like what Trump and his pulled on 1/6 by making sure the threat CAN'T do what they intend to do. You cut off their communication, get them disagreeing with each other, make weapons or ammo difficult to access, restrict their transportation so they can't get there in time. The one thing we've been able to do in the 2020 election and since then, is out-maneuver the threat to society. So the short timetable works in our favor. We, the rest of us, have to make plans to slowroll them on a stochastic level, make sure that NONE of their plans or methods work WHEN they want them to work, WHERE they want them to work.

(and yes, it goes without saying: vote early, and vote by mail as soon as you get the chance to, on the first day you can. Get it done so you don't have to multitask that, even if it is a manual straight-ticket, alongside keeping the meatheads and the threat crowd off-balance and out of step)

But yeah. Our backups need backups, because Harris and Walz might not be ready, if Team Traitor over there decides to go insurgent early and often.

[ponderingwanderingjohn]

My assets and income

should effect the worth of my money.

If i have more wealth

i should pay more for goods and

if i have less wealth i should pay less for the same goods

We should have a better chance when it comes to voting for a public office employee.

Hell make a show like amer.idol.

So me and you can run for president and the public can vote by phone. but seriously it's better than just sitting around telling people how much better you could do

If you search, God is everywhere. If God is on another side of a briar patch of thorns remember to mark the spot. Leave no stone unturned. Thanks be to God

When i give thanks to God

when i write, type and say the word "God",

As the last word

my brain keeps the neurons charged longer and strengthens the connections associated with the thought in my mind that is a neural group associated with God. If you tie everything you do to this neural network of God, then you will have within you, God

Jesus is God's right hand, thanking any religious symbol is okay and being reminded that God made it all reminds us to lastly in all things, thank God.

Your brain has 8 billion neurons and any one of them is connected to any of the others no matter how far away. That makes an exponential number of paths for your brain to relate to as information.

God is for you, your heart, and your mind to understand and a person will notice new things that are similar to what is familiar to them. This makes it wise to tie God to all those things, you seek to find, to God in your mind. So when you are down a new pathway experiencing something new you may catch a glimpse of what is familiar to your brain and notice it more easily. This will help aide you on your search for truth and life in God

Language changed from 8 a.d. to now and so I say:

A neuron is a specific spot in a forest

A neural pathways is a path that leads to all things known and unknown in your mind

Trodden is a well travelled path where men of today and throughout history have been unable to truly find God by travelling these trodden paths much like the roads that lead many to their destinations and also to a death led by those who do not live in the way of the life and truth but wear a sheeps clothing and preach to you a sermon familiar that you may desire to fill the collection plate.

Do not be deceived by those who preach the way of the light and do not life the way. For Jesus said to sell all and take up walking with him. Our churches leed not by example and instead prey on your conscience so you may fill their purses.

Neurons are reinforced with every thought of an idea. This reinforcement causes them to be stronger than all others ideas around them and you will find yourself with these thoughts on your mind more easily due to their pathways being wider and their destination being known to have great length and width. These are the doings of a man's own actions and are aided with the focus of his eyes upon that which be desired in his heart

From the knowledge of a man's history, any others are sure to see that a man is whatever he chooses to think about most. For these reasons I choose to follow a creation that did not eat of the original sin in the garden. A creation of God that through time has revealed themselves to be a best friend to mankind. I find it best to be led by a creation that doesn't know of good and evil and lives as God had intended when they were made and seen as good in God's garden.

I want to know God and hope to find wisdom

I believe dogs are made by God for their purpose

It took man a length of time to notice that these creatures are one of the mysteries that help explain the travels of a man in search for truth to guide others toward that which is and always will be.

They are known as follows: within a dog is the ability to love

Unconditionally in a way that no man has ever been able to show to one he has loved or ever will love. This is a love truly made by God for it is more than any man can fathom to have within his own heart. This loves shows itself to be closer to the way in which God would love all those who are alive and even dead, for all lives ever created were to be given to those children of God.

Also true is that through time the languages that are now spoken had not existed together until now. So as I write in this language I show a second sign of the mystery of man's best friend. God is everything and in everything. To spell the word for man's best friend is to write: doG. A true best friend to mankind that has love inside which is more like that of God, whose name 'dog' is the closest identical spelling in likeness to how we now spell God in these times, and being made in such a way with such sharp teeth and predatory instinct they yet heeds to man's call, a man of which has neither these teeth nor instinct; these are shown to be workings of the divine and are known yet one must not lean on their own understand for how these things have come about, but have faith that they are true and by following in their walkway, a man is able to test his physical body and prove to the soul inside, that he believes and will make known how much desire for God there is inside his heart by following his dogs into those places which seem to him as dangerous and overgrown with vines as thickets. For is a man knew God could be found waiting for him on the other side of a trail his dog had taken; would he venture through the thickets following his guide to meet God? These are things the soul must know if you are to be given knowledge from your soul that God has placed within you.

Treat dogs with the respect they deserve. They were in the garden with God and are man's best friend because of God. Treat them how you would want to be treated as though you will be living their life in the next existence.

Do not treat a dog like a prisoner who wears a collar with the the mark of the beast that owns them. Mark=name, mark, or signature

People are bad to each other and do not know how to love. To love unconditionally is as a dog loves a human and never says any negative comment to them, about them, or against them.

Dogs did not eat of the fruit of sin in the garden and this makes them good in the way God intended.

Dogs are to leed us lost sheep back toward God. They cannot do this when you make them live their lives tied to a tree or imprisoned in a cell you call home. They are not owned by man. God did not make them to wear a collar. They are alive and shall be free to leave their home and even their family if they choose, for this is how many lives and so shall dogs live since they are closer to God, being without sin.

[see-arcane]

Hey there hi there just a friendly reminder today that no matter who tells you it's pointless or how jaded you may feel about the process, if you have not already:

FUCKING.

VOTE.

'Both sides are just as bad!'

No they are not. They never have been. Neither side is perfect. Neither side is 100% pristine. But if you legitimately believe both sides are equally adamant in their routine evil for the sake of profit, bigotry, and generally wanting everything shittier for anyone who is not them, you've been purposefully living under a rock or else you're digging for an excuse not to bother with the tedium of standing in a line and pushing a button.

Do you want a Trump 2.0? Do you want a system stacked entirely with a red deck? Do you want more rights, protections, and sanctions against little things like Not Fucking the Environment Further and Bodily Autonomy and Letting People Who Are LGBT Exist Like Real People thrown into a woodchipper?

No?

THEN VOTE.

Vote like your life and the lives of your loved ones and the lives of total strangers depend on it. Because they do! They very much do!

I won't waste time compiling yet another megalist of all the reasons to vote, all the reasons that people not voting only ever benefits the worst candidates (DON'T FALL FOR THE, 'Oh, but everyone knows better! Plenty of people will vote right! I don't have to!' THOUGHT. THAT AND 'JOKE'-VOTING GOT US TRUMP.), all the huge things the Biden administration has accomplished, all the pure cartoon villainy bullshit the Republicans keep smearing on the country and all the even worse things they want for the future. A future that may or may not contain Trump or someone worse making a presidential bid.

Those posts already exist. So does Google. So does a heap of national and local news sites. Look them up or don't.

But please.

Please.

Please do not let yourself make excuses. Do not let other people try to convince you your vote is empty, that it doesn't make a difference. It does. It always has. This is the one tool we have that lets the pressure of the masses matter when it comes to who we put in charge of the states and the country as a whole. It's why these guys campaign in the first place.

Because the candidates know it matters.

No matter how good or bad or tepid the results are, do not let yourself be one of the people who sat back and threw up their hands just to say. "See? Told you it wouldn't matter!"

With enough of us it does. Whether that's enough of us making the effort to make sure things don't get worse or enough of us sitting back and plugging our ears while everything burns, it matters.

Please. Go. Vote.