#but that's because our system is awful as it stand

[jynxeddraca]

I actually really liked stocking and being a cashier at my old job. I got to see people, chat, get my social interactions for the day - my gods, do I miss some of my customers. Especially the woman who thought it was bullshit that we had to work Thanksgiving and brought everyone who worked that day Thanksgiving dinner. She was my favorite.

Working there also kept me in GREAT shape. Yeah, I didn't eat so good, but I was at my strongest back then. I could throw 50lbs bags of dog food no problem.

What I hated with a fucking passion was:

Being treated like garbage from both the manager and the customers.

Having a time limit to get things stocked when we were chronically understaffed and we all had to stop stocking constantly to ring people up.

Related to the above, getting injured at work trying to stock things in said time period and having no support or safety equipment (Remember kids, lift with your knees, not your back and never twist while lifting heavy things)

Being told to work late and then open the store the next morning (This is illegal where I live by the way, I didn't know that at the time)

Being told to come into work when it was icy and dangerous to be on the road.

Being a manager but barely making above minimum wage. I couldn't afford to live on my own (thank gods my parents were cool with me living at home).

I make a little more than three times what I did there, doing way easier things, and far less physical things and I like it, mostly. However, some days I really honestly miss having a more physical job. The only problem is I can't afford to live on the jobs that are more physical. I really think that if I didn't have to work for a living, I would be happiest working in a shop again.

[bubblesxo]

expectations walking into a "climate change and politics" panel at my college: talking about laws and bills and regulations, which, while informative, is unfortunately very depressing and easy to predict

surprisingly engaging, realistic, and hopeful reality: talking about how capitalism takes away human agency + companies chase money rather than doing the right thing even when everyone besides the profiteers wants them not to, how there are more ethical ways of organizing the economy (notably through ancient women-led trading methods and other models of social care, etc.), how we can and should keep these things in mind as we move forward *as a community rather than individuals,* and how communities should have control over the way they live and that there are people and groups that are working toward that in different ways and places

i love my catholic university <3

[secretsofafangirll]

video star

summary: the time when Olivia appeared in a blind, deaf, mute baking video with the triplets and Matt couldn't keep his hands to himself.

warnings: touchiness in front of people/on camera, suggestive language, suggestive content, use of pet names.

a/n: the song doesn't have any significance, it just plays in o.c.'s headphones.

"Hey guys, welcome back to another Wednesday video," Nick blurted at the camera posed several feet in front of them, "Today we're doing another Deaf, Blind, Mute Baking Challenge."

"However," Chris butted in, sticking a mocking finger in the air, "We have a special guest for today's video," He drawled out and looked off to the side where I was standing. Matt was still leaning back against the counter and smiled at me.

"Come on out, sweetheart." Matt beckoned me over with a flick of his fingers and a nod of his head. I jumped into frame and smiled at the camera.

"Hi guys!" I waved enthusiastically and placed my hands on the counter in front of me.

"For those of you who don't know, Olivia is our best friend in the whole world and Matt's girlfriend. If you didn't know that, you've obviously never watched a video because she's in all of our vlogs and we never shut up about her." Nick summed up the basics for the viewers at home.

I've been friends with the triplets since my freshman year of high school. Chris and I instantly clicked one day in Math when our more extroverted personalities found their ways to one another. He introduced me to his two triplet brothers at lunch that same day, and the rest was history. We became inseparable and spent every second of every day together since. Things became interesting with Matt and me as we got older and grew into ourselves but we officially started dating after we graduated high school. We were always scared to announce our relationship to his fans because they can be volatile to their female friends, but once we did and they accepted that we loved each other, we've been so open and comfortable expressing that love physically on camera.

"So, how this is gonna work is..we're gonna draw out of a hat and three people are gonna be either blind, deaf, or mute and one person won't be able to use their hands. Let's hope that person isn't Olivia, because she's the only one of us that really can bake, like at all," Chris addressed the room and the camera.

"Dude, if I get fucking handcuffed, this is gonna be awful," I raised my brows and turned to Chris.

"Have a little faith, kid," Chris bumped my hip with his. I heard the car keys rattle on Matt's belt loop as he pressed himself away from the counter and came up behind me to wrap his arms around my neck. My hands subconsciously reached up to grip his muscular forearms.

"Alright, well, let's get the fuck on with it," Matt spoke.

"Okay, relax. We've been rolling for two fucking minutes." Nick stuck an accusatory hand up at Matt.

Nick reached around the counter for the hat and we all drew a card.

"Matt, you say yours first," Nick assigned.

"Mute," Matt chuckled, "Too easy."

"Deaf," I read aloud, "Yay! I just get to listen to music." I ran over to the couch and grabbed my headphones, working to connect them to my phone and find a playlist.

"Noo!," Chris whined, "Handcuffed."

"Loser", Nick teased.

"Which means that I am blind." Nick concluded, "Olivia wanted to bake something from scratch but that's a bit too hard for us, so we just got boxed brownies with, like, an extra cookie thing that we have to do too."

As Nick started to read off the contents of the box, I placed the headphones over my ears and pressed "shuffle" on Spotify. The first song to grace my ears was "B.Y.O.B" by System of a Down. A loud, scream-y nu-metal jam to deafen my sensitive ears. If I listened to anything too quiet, I'd be able to hear them. I watched as Matt tied the blindfold onto Nick and then Chris tied the bandana onto Matt. Matt then locked the handcuffs onto Chris' wrists behind his back.

I watched as the three of them tried to talk to each other, myself trying to read their lips and body language. I knew Matt well enough to know he was frustrated and Chris well enough to know he was giving Nick directions.

Quickly, when they started to struggle too much, they called me over. However, my eyes were closed as I mouthed the words to the song and I couldn't hear them.

"Everybody's going to the party have a real good time," I sang with Serj and wagged my finger to the Ooh.

What made me open my eyes was Matt pushing a hand against my lower back to guide me to the counter. The sudden jolt and touch startled me and I lurched forward, almost falling into the hard counter top face first. Matt's hand quickly shot and gripped my waist, pulling me back into him.

"Oh my God!" I yelped, my hands shooting out in front of myself to stop me before he did. He spun me around in his hands and I placed my extended hands on his chest, "Thank you!" I yelled, unaware of my volume. He just pressed a finger to my lips to tell me to be quieter. I whispered a faint apology in return.

I looked over to Chris who was probably spewing some bullshit at us about how cheesy we are, seeing as how his left cheek flexed up slightly in annoyance. Matt ushered me over to the counter where they handed me the box to try and fix what they already messed up. I took one look at the batter and knew they added too much oil.

"Okay," I started, "I think you guys just put too much oil, but it's not hard to fix. I just need a dehydrator like flour or cornstarch to dry out the oil." I turned around to grab the flour from the cabinets that I stock for them, because if I didn't they'd either starve or waste all of their money on eating out.

Due to my shorter stature, I had to stand on my tip toes and stretch the life out of my arms to reach the flour. Matt came up behind me and placed a hand on my side to tell me to relax and he reached up and grabbed it for me. I thanked him before turning around and continuing to mix the brownies, Matt's front just brushed my back the whole time as he watched over my shoulder, his hand resting gently on my hip.

Once I was done with the brownies, I needed to grab a bowl for the cookie part. I wasn't planning on making it, since it's supposed to be a challenge, but I still grabbed the equipment needed. I bent down in front of Matt to grab a smaller bowl from the cabinet below the island. When I leaned over, I didn't realize two things; one, how close I was to Matt and what he wouldn't be able to resist doing when he noticed the position we were in, two, how it would look on camera.

Both of Matt's hands found my hips when I unexpectedly stuck my ass into the air right in front of his dick and he subconsciously pressed himself a tiny bit further into me. Soon, his hand left my hip and it braced itself on the counter above my head so that I wouldn't hit the counter when I got back up.

"Okay, so you guys need to do this, because this is supposed to be your guys' challenge." I started clearly over the sound of Evanescence’s "Going Under”. I sang the words under my breath as I turned away to let them do what they needed to do. I hopped up onto the counter behind them and enjoyed my music as I watched them yell at each other.

At least I thought they were yelling at each other...

Turns out they were yelling at me to preheat the oven that I was sitting next to. I watched as Matt stepped closer to me. He placed his hands on my thighs and nodded to the oven dials. I quickly understood and turned the dial to 350 degrees. Matt's eyes darted all across my face and down my body that was only clothed in shorts and a tank top due to the intense Los Angeles heat. I knew exactly what look he was giving me and it was killing him that he couldn't kiss me.

"Later," I mouthed to him and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. He dropped his head to my shoulder and I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulder to squeeze him into me.

Soon after, the brownies had made it out of the oven safely and we were all stripped of our sense-depriving shackles. I was kind of disappointed to be done with the music, but I missed hearing my favorite boys talk.

"Okay, the brownies are done and they look fine," Nick began to the camera, "But we did fuck them up a little bit, so hopefully Olivia's fix was okay."

"Bro, she's literally a professional chef at this point, I'm sure they're still gonna be great," Chris said matter-of-factly. Nick began to cut the brownies, which they should've baked on parchment paper, and got a piece for all of us. He slid it in front of me and we all tried a bite. They still tasted great and they looked like boxes.

"Obviously, if it were up to me, we wouldn't have boxed anything, but for a boxed brownie mix," Matt came up and hugged me from behind and my hands fell to his that wrapped around me, "I would give this is a solid 8 out of 10." I said giving a thumbs up with the camera.

When they had all given their notes and feedback, they said goodbye to the camera and turned it off.

"You guys need to practice a little something called self-control, you horny fucks," Said Nick as he shook his head and took down the filming equipment. 

"Shut the fuck up, Nick," Matt spat as he pulled me closer, "Hi, my girl. D'you have fun?" He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I pulled back slightly and leaned up to kiss his lips, "Mhm. I always have fun filming with you guys." I smiled up at his stunning face.

"What'd you listen to?" He asked, pulling away from the hug to reach over and grab a cup from the cabinet, but keeping a hand on my waist. I turned to watch him as he got what he needed.

"I listened to System of a Down and Evanescence. I wish that, like, Nirvana or something came on though." I sighed and looked down for a moment before focusing my attention back on him.

"S'nice. I need to branch out, broaden my musical horizons," He said as he filled his cup with water from the fridge.

"And your kitchen horizons, because, my God, you guys suck at baking." I teased exasperatedely.

"Hey, watch yourself," He tutted, "They suck at baking, I, on the other hand, can whip up a good dessert."

"Alright, mister, I bought already-been-smoked salmon and tried to cook it anyway, Sturniolo." I accused, rolling my eyes jokingly.

"Oh, yeah? You want to play it that way?" He smiled smugly and slowly stepped toward me, setting his water down on the kitchen island.

I backed away in response and put my hands up in defense, "I'm not playing anything. M'just sayin' it how it is. S'not my fault your egos too big."

"You little-," He cut himself off and reached for me. A high-pitched yelp escaped my mouth as I dodged his hand and I backed away from him before running to his bedroom. I might be more agile than him, but his legs are much longer than mine. He caught up to me as I was trying to slam his door shut, and he stopped the door before I could close it. He swooped in quickly, picked me up, and tossed me onto the bed, kicking the door shut somewhere in between.

"Matt!" I giggled, as I sat up, bracing my hands behind me. He crawled onto the bed in front of me and shoved my chest back down.

"Those brownies might have been good," He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss right below my ear, "But I know you're gonna taste even better," He whispered into my ear and began to trail a path of open-mouthed kisses down my neck...

//

author's note: alright...how'd we like it? I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it, but I wanted to put something out. I liked the concept but I'm unsure of how it turned out. let me know what you guys think.

all the love, she <3

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Dear Raven, do you have any opinion on the Tangled event in terms of it’s “story”? Cause I personally feel that it was rather underwhelming…

I have a lot of thoughts about Wish Lantern, so I'd be more than happy to expand on those here. First of all, I think a lot of us were underwhelmed by this event because we went in with a certain set of expectations. We thought this would be THE Riddle event and hyped ourselves up about how this would further his character development. And technically, the event did do that--even if said development was only relevant for parts 2-7 to 2-13, and the final part, 2-18. I think we just weren't fans of the execution. Rarely are story events contained mostly in a single room--but Wish Lantern was. Rarely are modern Twst story events a mere two episodes long--but Wish Lantern was. Rarely do story events call for characters to just stand around and reenact the exact same things the Disney characters did--but in Wish Lantern, they do. It was just a storm of blandness when I think we were wanting and expecting to explore a new place, and more in-depth exploration of Riddle's complicated relationship with his mother, especially considering we got Wish Lantern right off the tail end of his book 7 dream in the JP server. But we didn't get that, so many people ended up disappointed.

Now, how do I feel about it? Well...

I think I get what they were going for by cramming everyone into the library. The devs were probably trying to show us how claustrophobic and suffocating it is to be trapped inside and stripped of your freedom. They wanted us to feel the same way that Rapunzel did up in her tower, and they did it all without telling us to our faces "doesn't it suck, don't you feel awful about this?" But the problem with this setting is that it also makes for a dull story, especially when you combine it with the fact that Riddle and the others come to the stunningly stupid conclusion that they HAVE to live out the same life the Princess in the Tower did to get out.

We never got an explanation as to why this chain of events was even set off by the lantern to begin with. As a writer myself, this really bothers me :/

We got NRC library lore, but it was not that interesting because this could have been easily guessed, given the age and elite status of the school.

One bit of new lore I thought was very interesting was Jack saying that only a handful of mages are authorized to move humans using magic + there are restrictions on this kind of magic. This fleshes out the magic system of Twst and the laws around its use.

I found it silly that Riddle was the one to suggest that they pretend to be princesses and that this is what would help solve their problem. That's so nonsensical and such a huge leap of logic, I expected it of KALIM, not Riddle. (Maybe you could argue that Riddle has a desire to let his inner child out, but I do not see current day Riddle so overtly expressing that; he has shown time and time again he is uncomfortable going outside the bounds his mother laid for him, and that includes acting in traditionally immature ways.) And not only that, but why did they all insist and automatically invest so much in being princesses, and continue to dig into details about the Princess in the Tower's life, truly believing that reenacting it would get them out of this bind??? I know it's for plot convenience, but it was so contrived. They literally had no proof this would work yet kept acting in ways that implied they genuinely believed it would work. Why wouldn't they just believe "okay, this isn't working" after changing into their new clothes, makeup, and hairdos and try something else? No, instead they just fully dedicated themselves to this reenactment strategy after questioning their assumption maybe once or twice.

The Princess in the Tower is even a FAIRY TALE in the world of Twisted Wonderland. It's not actually a part of their history. The characters point out (at multiple points in the event) how silly the fairy tale is or how little sense it makes. So... that gives them even less reason to believe in reenacting it as their solution.

Shoutout to the part where Jack talks about how tight his shirt is in the chest area (boobs too big, lol) and how he had to alter it to be more comfortable for him...

There were strange parts where the event was like a... poorly written locked room mystery? In a good mystery, the reader is handed all the clues to come to their own conclusions. In a bad mystery, important details are not given to the reader, so there is no feasible way for them to come to their own conclusions until the story tells them that missing crucial information. This happens a few times, with Ace handing Riddle "something he'll need" (which turns out to be a frying pan), Riddle "taking a long time" to jump out of the window (because he was contacting Silver to tell him to bring Vorpal), and Vargas giving them climbing rope (to aid in their escape). We only anticipate these things to occur if you're familiar with Tangled already. If you haven't seen it, you would have NO IDEA what is going to happen with these scenes.

I liked that every NRC character, including staff, got their five minutes in the spotlight. We don't often get events like this, so I appreciate them when they do happen.

Mom!Jamil was so very prominent this event 💀

Jade killed me when he showed up wearing THAT STUPID VARGAS CAMP MONSTER MASK THING.

... Remember what I said earlier about how it's confusing how Riddle, Jack, Deuce, and Kalim are throwing literally their ALL into these hobbies??? Well. Leona comes in and tells them it's inefficient to do that. Why are they trying to play an entire game of chess when moving a single piece is enough to constitute fulfilling the (supposed) requirements? If they were so worried about the time crunch, they should have been more economical with their time and spent the minimum amount on every activity, not spend hours trying to do each one. AGAIN, I HAVE TO GIVE IT TO KINGSCHOLAR... HE IS CORRECT. Of all the characters, I can only really see Riddle being anal about doing everything perfectly, but the other three could easily coast by on the bare minimum.

This is a bit of my book 7 salt spilling over into this event, but I kept having this nagging thought that Riddle and co. (+ Crowley) seem VERY concerned with escaping the library before it rolls over to the next day. Like... I understand why they're worried--but they oddly do not demonstrate this same level of urgency for most of the dream hopping in book 7 even though the stakes are much higher there. It doesn't make sense to me...

The devs got creative with the framing of this event; there was the diagonal slice and then showing two characters in two different locations speaking, as well as the Jamils low fade in + vanish.

The new music tracks were nice; one emulated the Kingdom Dance, and the other was a combination of the instrumentation of When Will My Life Begin and At Last I See The Light, which I appreciated.

The rhythmics/twistunes were cute. Nothing else to add.

I did like the character development we actually got for Riddle—I just wish it came attached to a better event and was executed better. His development is sort of poorly spaced out (especially when compared to Deuce in White Rabbit Fest), the event itself is short, and Riddle doesn’t even bring up his mom until 2-13… when the last part is 2-18.

I still felt that the parallels between Rapunzel and Riddle were sufficiently conveyed; it just requires reading between the lines.

I loved that they made a point to mention that the Princess didn’t know she was kidnapped by a witch because the witch provided all that she could ever want in her tower. Delicious food and lots of things to do… why would she ever go against someone that provided these amenities for her? It is similar to the mindset many abused children have—simply because an abusive guardian provides for them, children are compelled to give them grace and feel guilty about disobeying. These kids don’t realize they are “kidnapped” (under the abusive guardian’s thumb). The same goes for Riddle.

When I think about it… the window is an important symbol for Riddle. The manga more explicitly shows us that Trey and Chenya knocked on Riddle’s window to get his attention. It’s also through the window that Riddle escapes to go play with them. Now, again, a window is his escape, and, learning from past experience, he hesitates to take that route even though it is so easily accessible. I've decided... Never again. Almost made me gasp out loud, honestly. This was the part I expected from the start, and Twst actually delivered.

Another point I feel is very important is how Riddle consistently brings up the rules as a means of depriving himself of basic things like food (because you cannot eat in the library). The others have the be the ones to convince him to take better care of himself. He even has trouble jumping from the window too—and this is the same as Rapunzel. It’s not that they cannot leave the tower. They can leave anytime they like—but they trap themselves in it, psychologically speaking, due to how they’ve been isolated and controlled. That takes real strength and willpower to overcome.

It’s great that Jack, Deuce, and Kalim support Riddle through this tough decision-making, even if they’re blunt about it. (Sometimes bluntness is what he needs to really snap into action!!) “I don’t want to see you turning into a loser that uses the rules as an excuse to not act.”, “Are you planning on staying there forever?” etc.

The ending nicely wraps up Riddle’s little arc. He connects the dots that both he and Rapunzel broke the promises made to their mothers—but it was worth it to see this amazing sight, wasn’t it?

I happen to have my own Wish Lantern rewrite if you're interested in an alternate versio of the event. As it currently is, it's okay to pretty good in the Riddle development scenes alone and has some cute interactions, but everything else surrounding that is pretty bleh.

[randompasserbyer]

https://www.planetminecraft.com/skin/spectrum-vsau-smajor/

I tried so hard to find one to play as before caving and making my own version! I forgot the cyan strings on the jacket but I can just go back in later and fix that. I've only ever made one skin before this, and I made an entire Planet Minecraft account just to post this lmao, but I feel so accomplished by it lol.

Shoutout to the other people playing with a Spectrum skin 😎 We're in the Cool Kids Club lmao

I don't know if anyone's ever done one for Spectrum before, but I made a Minecraft skin for him using Scott's Empires S2 skin as a base! Do you want the Planet Minecraft link?

YEAHHHHHHHH

A couple of ppl have made some back when ppl first got obsessed with Spectrum, but it's very much more the merrier :3

(One of my friends spotted a Spectrum on MCCI once??? In the wild???)

Reblog with the link and Ill rb it here so my audience has access to it

[jessicalprice]

I think the thing that most Christian atheists who are rebelling against authoritarian Christian backgrounds don't get is why Jews remain Jewish.

Like, I get it, you engaged in your practices because you were told that God would punish you if you didn't, because you're told you're supposed to fear God.

(Incidentally, we don't even use the same language about this. The term that gets translated in most English bibles as "fear" is, like many classical Hebrew words, a lot more multivalent than the English term, and has more of a connotation of "awe." (See, for example, the Gilgamesh dream sequence: "Why am I trembling? No god passed this way." A god is something in whose wake one trembles.) It's what one feels when one is faced with something bigger than oneself, something overwhelming. For some people that may be fear of being harmed. For others it may be wonder or even ecstasy, standing outside oneself.)

But in 2023, Jews have the option (and, indeed, still the cultural pressure) to completely abandon Judaism. Very easily. We can, in fact, do it quite passively. If we're not actively trying to engage with it, it will very much drift away from us.

And it's not fear of divine punishment keeping most of us engaged.

The thing is, if you proved to me tomorrow that God doesn't exist, I'm not sure anything about my life or my practice would change. (I'm already agnostic, so *shrug*. I don't believe in a God-person. Sometimes I believe in a unity to reality, a life and a direction to it. Sometimes I don't. I just don't have the arrogance to think I understand definitively the way the universe does or doesn't work.) I still would celebrate Shabbat, I still wouldn't eat pork, I still would have a mezuzah on my doorway.

I do all that stuff because I'm Jewish, not because I think God will get mad if I don't. I do all that stuff because it's part of a cultural system that I see as wise and life-giving and therapeutic and worth maintaining.

And the thing is, the cultural system that Christian antitheists want us to assimilate into, under the guise of "getting rid of religion", is very much a white Protestant culture. It's not culturally neutral. It has practices, and it has a particular worldview, and it has cultural norms that are just as irrational as any other culture's.

It's also very telling that Christian antitheists purport to be harmed by Jews continuing to be Jewish. Why? We don't impose our norms on anyone else, and we overwhelmingly vote (and organize, and engage in activism) against the imposition of Christian "religious" norms, such as the curtailing of reproductive freedom, blue laws, etc.

So you're only "harmed" by our continued existence in the same way Christians purport to be harmed by it: by claiming that the very existence of a group that doesn't share your worldview and practices is somehow an act of oppression against you.

Which is, you know, white supremacist logic.

You're still upholding the logic of Jesus's genocidal, colonial Great Commission even though you supposedly don't believe in the god that ordered it anymore.

That's gotta be one of the saddest things I encounter among my fellow humans.

You took down all the crosses in the church of your mind and chucked them out the window, but you still refuse to step foot outside the church building, contenting yourself with claiming it's not a church, and firing out the windows at the synagogue and mosque down the road, the same way you used to.

[shiani25]

If you're okay then maybe you could write Starscream wearing his crown, roleplaying as a King and Megatron as his knight? Chaos ensues over the Decepticons as they continue to play and act like this for the whole day. Sfw, could be any form of art please.

"The Nemesis Theatre Disaster"

Morale on the Nemesis was at an all-time low.

The Decepticons had suffered setback after setback, Autobots ruining their plans at every turn. The troops were sluggish, unmotivated, and even the usual entertainments—like fighting matches in the training room or gambling on who would get punched by Megatron first—had lost their charm.

Knockout, ever the perfectionist, hated this.

“Low morale leads to low productivity, Lord Megatron!” he argued, arms crossed. “And low productivity leads to poor results! Do you want your forces to perform at half capacity?”

Megatron, who had just suffered through an exceptionally sloppy battle, ex-vented through his denta. “…No.”

Knockout smirked victoriously. “Exactly! So, we need a solution.”

As second-in-command Starscream immediately took this as his chance to shine.

“Clearly, what we need is art,” he declared dramatically, wings flaring. “A distraction to lift spirits and remind our troops that the Decepticons are more than just warriors—we are thinkers, creatives, visionaries—”

“I am going to regret asking this,” Megatron muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, “but what are you suggesting?”

Starscream grinned.

“We shall host a play!”

Megatron’s spark sank. He had already made a mistake.

---

Knockout, not surprisingly, loved the idea.

“Oh, brilliant! We’ll make it grand! A true spectacle! And I shall be the director, of course.”

Starscream scoffed. “Obviously. Who else could handle such an important task? Vehicons? I don't think so.”

With that settled, the disaster spiraled quickly.

Starscream, as the most gifted with words (his own assessment), was put in charge of writing the script.

Breakdown and Soundwave were tasked with handling props, stage construction, and lighting. Soundwave, with his usual eerie efficiency, had it all set up within hours, while Breakdown spent most of the time wondering how he’d been dragged into this.

The casting process was… interesting.

“You, Lord Megatron, shall play the part of my loyal knight!” Starscream announced, puffing his chestplate with pride.

Megatron immediately hated this. “No.”

Starscream waved dismissively. “Too late! The script is already written. You swore an oath of fealty to my character—King Starflare the Magnificent—and I expect you to act accordingly.”

Megatron turned to Knockout. “You will regret this.”

Knockout, adjusting his director’s cap, just grinned. “Oh, I already do. But I’m enjoying the chaos too much to stop now.”

---

Opening Night.

The entire crew gathered in the Nemesis’ cargo bay-turned-theatre. Seats had been arranged, a stage had been built, and Soundwave had somehow rigged up an actual lighting system.

The play began.

And it was an utter disaster.

Starscream’s script was atrocious.

The story followed the noble and glorious King Starflare (played by Starscream) as he ruled his kingdom with unmatched wisdom, beauty, and grace. His loyal knight, Sir Mediumtron (played by a very unamused Megatron), was his fiercest defender, sworn to protect him at all costs.

The problem?

The dialogue was awful.

Megatron read from the script with the enthusiasm of a mech contemplating self-destruction. “Oh, my most radiant lord, my sword and spark are ever at your service. I shall smite thine enemies with the fury of a thousand sunrises. ��” He paused. Looked at the next word. “... Mediumtron looked at his king with admiration because he secretly loved him.”

"Those are stage directions you should not read that part!!"

Starscream, standing dramatically on a fake throne, waved a dismissive hand. “Besides, you must sell it, Megatron. The people need to believe in your love and devotion to your king!”

Megatron’s fist clenched. “I am going to kill you.”

The troops in the audience were barely holding in their laughter.

Things only got worse.

Breakdown had built the worst props possible, including a cardboard dragon that was supposed to be the grand final battle but looked more like a sickly Turbofox with wings.

Knockout, being Knockout, had focused entirely on style, giving everyone elaborate capes that got tangled in their movements.

Soundwave had rigged the lighting too well, and at one point, a dramatic spotlight hit Starscream so hard he tripped on his own cape and faceplanted off the stage.

That was honestly Megatron's favourite part.

The audience erupted into laughter.

Starscream shot up, flustered and furious. “Silence, peasants! You dare mock your king?!”

That only made them laugh harder.

Megatron, suffering through one of his worst cycles yet, rubbed his optics and sighed. “Starscream, end this madness.”

Starscream huffed. “The finale has yet to—”

That was when the cardboard dragon collapsed mid-scene, knocking over an entire set piece. Breakdown cursed as props went flying. The whole stage fell apart, leaving Starscream standing awkwardly in the wreckage.

Silence.

Then—

Thunderous applause.

The troops loved it.

They cheered, whistled, and shouted for more. They weren’t laughing at Starscream—they were genuinely entertained. For the first time in weeks, the Decepticons were actually happy.

Starscream was taking in all that applause and pretended all was according to his plan.

Knockout smirked, leaning against Megatron. “Well, Lord Megatron? Morale’s never been higher.”

Megatron groaned. His dignity was in tatters, but…

If the troops were happy, then maybe it was worth it.

…Still, he would make Starscream and Knockout suffer for this later.

[not-rigel]

A Guest Lecture

ITS FINALLY HERE

tags: professor sevika AU, middle school teacher! reader, flirting, slight loser! sevika, trans! sevika, no smut, cuddling and kissing, ma'am used once for reader, explicitly written to be set in the US (sorry non-American readers but I took the opportunity to dig at my country's educational system)

a/n: I chose to not include smut in this because i felt it just would've taken away from it. im nonbinary and not a trans woman so I took so long trying to write sevika as delicately and respectfully as possible. i fully plan in making pt 2 with smut my loves i promise, if you see mistakes that wasnt me pls ignore them.

WC: 5.2k

You’re doing one last visual sweep over your classroom, making sure all the desks are aligned so all your students have a clear view of the podium. Your own desk is behind all of theirs, facing the podium as well. You flick the different light switches on and off to try and find the best lighting. After a minute you find the winning combination and the room is finally lecture ready. With the class ready for your guest, you dial the extension for the front office.

“Front Office,” the receptionist answers on the third ring. 

“Yes, hi. I have a guest, Dr. Sevika Walia, coming in to give a lecture for my advanced class. Can you send her to my room please? It’s room 206.” 

“Yup, she just checked in. I’ll send her over.” 

“Thank you.” 

Suddenly, your head pounds and it occurs to you that you used the lunch period to rearrange your classroom for the lecture. Fruit snacks and a granola bar from your snack bin will have to hold you over until your next free period. You're in the middle of munching on your granola bar when there's a knock at your door. You frantically wipe crumbs off yourself and rush to let Dr. Sevika in. 

She's not what you expected her to look like, well not that you really envisioned anything. For one, she's tall. Towering somewhere over six feet. She's quite polished, dressed in a black short sleeve button down blouse, tucked into maroon slacks. Her hair is short, a bit longer than a typical pixie, strands reaching just below her cheekbones. She has one piercing, a stud on her left nostril. Her coat sits draped over her shoulders, hiding her arms. 

“Hi, Professor Walia. Thank you again for agreeing to do this,” you reach out your hand for a handshake. Her right arm peeks out from where it is hiding and she takes your hand in hers. Her handshake is firm and speaks highly of her professionalism. You stand aside to hold the door open for her and, without meaning to, you catch the cleanest aroma you’ve smelt in a long time. Middle schoolers body odor is awful and Dr. Sevika is a refreshing change. 

“Hi, and it's my pleasure. I’m out of my element here, I haven't stepped foot in a middle school since I went to one,” she sighs, eyes sweeping over the posters on the walls and nostalgia sparkles in her eyes. Her voice is hypnotic, a perfect mix of feminine and gruff. 

“You haven't done guest lectures for middle schools before? I must ask, why'd you agree to this one?” 

“I enjoyed our emails. You were very convincing,” she admits and you feel a little warm at the smile she gives you. 

“I enjoyed them too, even though all your replies came at 2 in the morning,” you joke. She laughs and it's a beautiful sound. 

“Academics,” she says, lightly mocking your shared profession, “Do you have somewhere I can hang my coat?” 

“Yes, I can take it,” She hands you her coat and you turn your back to her to set it on your coat rack. “There's about ten minutes left before class starts. I hope you don’t mind but I forgot to eat something. I used most of lunch getting the room ready. You can set up while I eat.”

“Oh, no issue. Us educators forget things all the time. I forgot to charge my arm last night.” 

Charge her arm? It's not until you turn back to face her that you finally notice that she’s missing most of her left arm. You’re not sure how you didn't notice when she handed you her coat. Might have something to do with the chronic fatigue from being a teacher. 

“God, this is no fun. Usually I like to dramatically throw my coat off for a bionic arm reveal but I guess having no arm there isn't as exciting,” she complains, without a touch of sarcasm.

“I honestly didn't notice until you said something. I would've appreciated the dramatic reveal.” 

“You get it. You go ahead and eat, I'll get set up,” she nods at your half-eaten granola bar sat on your desk. You continue with your imitation of a lunch as she takes papers from her bag, laying them onto the podium. She also places a pair of glasses on her face, rectangular wire frames. By the time the bell rings Professor Sevika has her powerpoint projected on the screen behind her. 

You grab a bottle of hand sanitizer and stand at the door, holding it open for your students to enter. As each student returns from lunch, you greet them and squirt sanitizer into their palms. 

“Special guest today, best behavior.” 

“Take any seat.” 

“Hi sweetie. Enjoy your lunch?” 

One by one all the students find a desk and settle in as quietly as they can manage. They're always rowdy after lunch but today they know you need them to be respectful. When the bell rings you shut and lock the door, to avoid any distractions. 

You clap your hands, gaining the attention of everyone in the room, “Alright class, the day is finally here. We have our guest, Professor Walia, here to give us a lecture. She is going to tell us a bit about her degrees, her career and give us a little extra perspective. We've only got 50 minutes so hold your questions until the end. Got it?” 

All your students answer with “yes ma'am.”  

“Awesome. They're all yours, Dr.” You turn their attention to her and make your way back to your desk. 

“Thank you. Hello all, I am Dr. Sevika Walia. You can call me Dr. Sevika or Professor Sevika. A little bit about me, I first earned my BA in 2006 where I double majored in History and Anthropology, then eventually my Masters in 2008 and my PhD in Cultural History in 2016. I've been lecturing at the local university since 2017. When I'm not lecturing at the university or at home with my snake, I am writing, editing, peer-reviewing and publishing articles for scholarly journals.” 

You listen along with your students, occasionally checking to make sure no one has dozed off but they're all paying attention. And you understand why. Sevika is an amazing speaker. 

“Now earlier I mentioned my PhD is in Cultural History. And you must be thinking, what is the difference between ‘History’ and ‘Cultural History’? History, as we typically understand it, is explained as dynasties, battles, wars, the forming of civilization, of government. Which is lots of information but it's actually quite limited.” 

She goes on explaining there's dozens of different interpretations about conflict and events. Clicking through different slides to provide cultural interpretations of historical events you informed her your class recently studied. Something you coordinated over email. There's a serious passion about her, how she speaks about lost voices in history. About forgotten contexts. And for a moment, it feels good to pretend you're a student again. Your fingers itch like they should be taking notes.  

“The way I practice being a historian is getting away from the generalized, to not look at history through one lived human experience or context. The experiences we've been taught to associate with history should be questioned and the experiences we're not being taught needs to be sought out.” 

Again, you're in awe of her intelligence. You find a notepad, trying to scribble down her words before you forget them. 

“I feel a good historian is devoted to finding out the missing context, include those experiences in our process of interpretation. For decades, the United States curriculum has prioritized the experiences of white cisgender straight men to teach history. By including culture into our historical interpretations, we create a truer understanding of history.” 

She clicks to the final slide, a photo of her in her classroom sitting on her desk eating instant noodles. Most of the class giggles and you smile as well. She must've hoped this would go over well with your class because she has a proud smile on her face. 

“I'll take your questions now,” she tells the class and a bunch of hands shoot up. She calls on them one by one but the bell rings before she gets to all of them. 

“Before you go, please put your desks into six groups of four. If you need a pass, I'll write you one,” you call out to the class and they move their desks back into their regular places. A couple students get hall passes from you so they won't be counted as tardy for helping you organize the room. 

It's now your free period so you won't be expecting any incoming students for another 55 minutes. When they're all gone Professor Sevika lets out a heavy breath, stacking her papers neatly to place back into her bag.  

“Something wrong?” you ask. 

“Nothing like that. I was just nervous. Having a bunch of pre-teens stare at me was unsettling,” she explains while packing away her things. 

You chuckle, “That's how I felt my first year. I'm surrounded by preteens and teenagers all day long and I was fresh out of college and I felt like I couldn't connect with them. I considered quitting about three months in, I was just overwhelmed. But most of the teachers here are angels, they really got me through my first year. Stepping in when I needed a break, lending me supplies, giving me good advice. And now I see a therapist specifically for the stress of being a teacher. That's probably helped me the most.” 

She crosses the room, leaning onto your desk. She blinks a couple times before making eye contact. “I hope this isn't unwelcome advice but the best advice I got in my second year teaching was to not forget my personal life. I'm… let's just say I'm dedicated to my practice. I had to take a leave of absence while getting my PhD but still graduated on time. It exhausted me but I did it. Personal shit aside, my point is if you're drowning in work, remember to take time to be a person. You've already got support, they're not gonna let you drown.” 

Her advice is so genuine and personal it makes you want to know her, know more than a professor you emailed. Her passion in her work from the journals you read is what compelled you to reach out to her. But now that you're with her in person, you don't want to go back to emails. 

“Thank you, I'll remember that. So um, what's the rest of your day look like?” you ask. 

“Going back to my office for office hours, checking my email, giving a lecture, checking my email again, writing the next exam,” she lists off her tasks for the rest of the day. 

“And what about anything for yourself?” you remind her of her own advice. 

“I'll listen to jazz while working,” she shrugs. 

“Jazz?” you didn't peg her as the jazz type. You didn't consider yourself the jazz type so you're not really versed enough to know what a jazz person is like anyways. 

She sighs and pinches her nose, “Great, you're making the face.” 

“What face?” 

“The ‘I don't like jazz’ face,” she explains, pointing accusingly at you. 

“Well, yeah. I’ve never been into it.” 

“What? Jazz is soulful, it's an entire conversation. I'm in disbelief that everyone doesn't hear it that way. Have you ever been to live jazz?” 

You hesitate to answer but you're sure she already knows, “No.” 

“Then you can't say you don't like it. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be pretentious. But you genuinely need to experience jazz live at least once in your life. There's a club where a really good band plays. I want you to give it a chance. I'll email the details to you,” she looks at your clock on the wall. “I gotta leave for office hours. Eat your lunch and stay in touch, alright?” 

You're shocked that she still wants to talk to you, “Yeah, I'll talk to you later. And I'll eat my…lunch,” you look down at the packet of fruit snacks knowing you can't really call it a lunch. You might have the time to run to the breakroom to still have the one you packed. 

“Good,” she takes her coat from your rack and drapes it over her shoulders. She leaves and you know you'll be obsessively checking your email all day. 

Professor Sevika makes it to her office minutes before office hours begins, logging right onto her computer and opening her email. She types out all the details of the club, what days and times the band is playing. That she’ll pay your entrance fee. That if you really do hate jazz she can take you somewhere else. She clicks send and forces herself into work mode. The next two hours are spent reading and clearing her emails, no students visiting during office hours. But when she checks her inbox one last time before leaving for her lecture, she sees a reply from you. 

Hello Dr. Walia, 

I'd love to go with you. Should at least give live jazz a chance. I can do Thursday night. Thank you again for today.

You left your personal email and number as well. Sevika knows she's not going to be focused while giving the lecture. Is it… a date? She could've specified, should've. You said you'd love to go with her and that has to mean something. That wording can't just be casual, can it? She'll just have to wait a week to make a fool of herself in front of you, crushing on a middle school teacher.

And she feels like she shouldn't be crushing. You were so sweet in your emails, thanking her at every turn and helping her fine tune. You were so eager to give your students something special and Sevika wanted to deliver. She was just supposed to go in and do the lecture, all because she could tell you were a good teacher. But she wasn't supposed to find you so attractive the moment you opened the door. Then you had to go and be so honest with her about your struggles and she knew she needed you. And you knew you needed her from how genuinely she responded. 

So the both of you go on teaching your classes between sending emails and text messages all week long. Dancing the line of platonic conversation. 

Dozens of texts, calls and emails later, Thursday night arrives. Your phone vibrates with another text from her.  

I'm waiting by the front entrance. 

You're scrambling out from your car, having  to circle the block 5 times to find a parking spot. You don't bother with texting back, instead hitting the call button. She answers within two rings. 

“Hey, are you nearby?” 

“Yeah, I had some trouble finding parking but I'm walking over now,” you tell her what street you're on and she directs you on where to go, “Turning the corner and… okay I think I see you.” 

Standing beneath a lit neon sign is Sevika, leaning against a wall. She's dressed casually, turtleneck sweater and blue jeans. Her prosthetic is charged today, her sleeve is rolled up so you can see most of the intricate machinery. She looks around and when she spots you she ends the call and jogs over to meet you. She looks slightly different somehow but you cannot place your finger on what's changed. She checks you out, looking you over head to toe twice. 

“Just in time. You look really good. I'm so excited. You're gonna love it, I promise,” she says, offering her arm for you to take. You wrap your hand over her bicep and the muscle is thick and firm. 

She walks you into the club, paying both your entrance fees at the door. She leads you through the club to the stage where the band is finishing setting up. You really did arrive just in time as moments after you take your seat, the saxophonist introduces the band. 

The band is a quartet; tenor saxophone, piano, double bass and drums. When they begin to play it just sounds like jazz to you, nothing new or special. But halfway through the song you begin to hear a conversation, tones of pure expression filling the room. You don't hear each note, they're far too fast and messy to catch. But the way they play together is so precise, the pianist playing to sweeten the joy of the saxophone. It clicks in your mind that you will never hear anything like this again, it's too intimate and special. 

You lean over, whispering into Sevika's ear, “Thank you.” 

She turns her head to look at you and your faces are centimeters apart. For a moment, you just look at each other. Sevika looking for genuine interest and you looking at the softness in her eyes. She swallows, at a complete loss for words. You're looking at her so sweetly, ‘you're welcome’ or ‘don't mention it’ as a response feels inadequate.  

You place a hand on hers, “I really mean it, thank you.”

Sevika's fucked because now all she can think about is kissing you. So she goes with the inadequate response, “You're welcome. I mean it.” 

You return to listening to the music, trying to appreciate as much as you can. Sevika's attention is divided, shifting in her seat to take pressure off her erection. A touch on the hand shouldn't be enough to make her so hard but she hasn't had a date go so well since, well ever. And this barely counts as a date in her mind, she never formally asked you. 

She lays her jacket over her lap and prays you don't notice how tense she is. You never catch on, too immersed in music. Half an hour later, the band thanks you for being a wonderful crowd and wishes you a good night. You don't want the night to end. You want to know what other beautiful things Sevika has to show you. 

“Told you they're a good band,” she says as she offers her arm to you again. You take it and leave the club, gushing over how good the music was. Sevika chuckles at your excitement, you're squeezing her bicep every other sentence. When you make it outside Sevika turns to you. “Where are you parked? I'll walk you.” It's not an offer.  

You lead her to where you're parked, talking the entire way over. At some point the conversation shifts to farmer's markets. When you make it to your car Sevika digs into her pocket for her wallet. She pulls out a 20 and hands it to you, “For gas.” 

“Oh no, I can't,” you try to reject the money. 

“In this economy and on your middle school teacher salary, you're taking the money. Or I won't be able to sleep tonight.” 

“Fine, I'll take it. But I'll find a way to pay you back. Actually, what are you doing this Saturday?” 

“Nothing,” she lies. If you're the one asking her what she's doing, the answer will always be nothing. She's not going to spend all day working if she could be spending time with you. 

“Well I've got grading to do but afterwards I've got some time. You can choose what we do but I'll be paying. It's only fair,” you propose. 

“Well, what if I just want you to come over. Watch a couple movies,” is her counter-offer. It's also a leap of faith, she's still stupidly convinced that her feelings are unreciprocated. 

“Then I'll order in some food. Does that work?” 

“That works.” Her leap of faith paid off, you agreed to come to her house. 

“Good. It's a date.” You officially confirm it out loud. You've picked up on a few signs from her over the night. Her smile when you squeezed her bicep. Her eyes darting to your lips when you placed your hand on hers to thank her. The nervous glint in her eyes as she looks at you now. It's all so endearing, how cluelessly obvious she's been all night. 

“By the way, I think you're cute when you're flustered. And,” you pause and take a step forward, “I think you're really hot when you're criticizing standardized textbooks.” 

Sevika's face is warm, she feels like a teenager from how hard she is blushing,“Thanks. And if that second part about how I changed your kids' perception of George Washington I'm honestly not sorry,” that oh so loved passion of her returns, like she's giving a verbal lashing to George Washington himself. 

“It's hot that you're not sorry,” you step even closer and that cute flustered face returns and you need to kiss her. You finally notice what was slightly changed from the first time you met her. She has a lip piercing, a labret that sparkles so enticingly at you. She probably switches it out for clear jewellery when she's working. “Would you like to kiss me?” 

“Please.” 

You take a final step towards her and place your hands on her shoulders. Sevika swallows her hesitation to sit with the butterflies in her stomach. She meets you halfway, you tilt your head up as hers ducks down. The kiss begins slowly and explorative but soon both of you give up entirely on going slow. Sevika is so intense in every capacity, intensely devoted and intensely feeling, so you need to give her all that intensity back. The fervor between you bursts like fireworks. As the initial explosion settles and calms, little sparkles rain down and daze you. You swear you can feel them tickling your cheek then you realize it's her hair. Sevika's lips completely savor yours, ensuring this moment will last forever in her mind. 

But the moment is rudely interrupted, a passing car honks at the two of you. Sevika glares at the driver, angered that the highlight of her week was cut short. But the memory in progress is made sweet again with your laughter. 

“Sorry, it's just,” you pause to catch your breath from the giggles, “you look ready to murder that guy.” 

She finally finds the humor in the situation and snorts, “I might've felt an urge for violence. Honestly, I might sic my niece on him.” You're delighted to learn she has a niece and curious about what threat she might pose. 

“You don't need to do that. Karma will get him.” 

“You're right. It's getting late. You better get home. It's a school night, after all.” She gently nudges you by the shoulder toward your car. You’re not ready to leave, but you know it's late and your morning starts at 5:30. You decide she's right and it's time for you to leave but you need one last thing. 

“One more kiss? For the road-” you don't even get to finish your sentence as Sevika's lips cover yours. This kiss is short, sweet, firm and plenty worthwhile. Sure to keep you content until you see her again. 

Sevika steps back, more for her own self control. “Text me when you get home, okay?” 

“Okay,” you nod. You find your keys and enter your car but Sevika holds the door open. 

“One more,” she sighs, crouching down to plant one final, quick kiss onto your lips. She shuts the door for you and motions for you to fasten your seatbelt. She watches as you back out of the parking space and drive off, not looking away until you've turned the corner out of her sight. 

Fridays never felt long to you. With the school buzzing with preteens excited for the weekend, their joy is usually so contagious that your day flies by. This Friday felt long however, you were too aware of each minute that passed and it only made them drag even longer. Saturday morning is almost worse. Sevika is on your mind every minute you spend grading. Each assignment takes twice as long as usual to mark for wrong answers. Each question on the assignment makes you miss her mind, miss her perspective. You work through the distraction and finish by 3pm. 

You find your phone, which you left charging in your bedroom, and text Sevika that your afternoon is now free. She responds with her address, followed with ‘Please tell me the drive isn't that far. I miss you so much I'll die if I have to wait any longer.’ 

It's good to know she's just as anxious to see you. You've been head over heels for her, feeling crushing in quickly but too strong to understand at this point. You copy and paste her address into your navigation app and it's a twenty minute drive. 

You text her your ETA as you enter your car. Your navigation app slightly lied to you as you make it to her house in twenty five minutes. Sevika must've heard you pull into her driveway, she's rushing out her front door to greet you and at your door before you can shift gears into park. 

“Sevika! I could've hit you!” you scold her as you exit your car. 

“You weren't going to hit me,” she assures you, “Let's get inside. I missed you so much I might kiss you in front of all my neighbors.” 

“Might? I want you to kiss me in front of your neighbors,” you laugh at the impatient way she tries to lead you away from your car. 

She ceases her efforts to nudge you into her home, choosing to turn you toward her and cup your jaw in her hand, “Have I told you that I love your laugh yet?” 

You laugh even more, mostly at her sudden ability to be suave with her words, “No, but I'd love to hear more.” 

“You laugh before I even realize what's funny. I love your laugh,” she tells you with a peck to your nose. And the perfect laugh you give her is rewarded with a kiss to your cheek. 

You sigh, breathing to give the ache in your side some relief, “I missed you too. So much. God, I could hardly grade because the Industrial Revolution makes me think of you.” 

Sevika snorts, “Oh no, not the Industrial Revolution. I'm flattered that you were thinking of me but I don't know how I feel about being associated with the Industrial Revolution.” 

You can tell she's only pretending to be offended, “Oh Professor, what's so bad about being associated with the Industrial Revolution? Is it the smog?” 

“Fine, nothing wrong with being associated with the Industrial Revolution. The real issue here is… who gave you the right to make ‘Professor’ sound so hot? I hear that word dozens of times a day and it has never sounded that sexy.” 

“We should get inside, Professor. Or I'll kiss you in front of your neighbors.” You move her hand from your face and hold it in yours, leading her inside. 

Once you're both indoors, Sevika gives you a quick tour of her home. You get to see her bathroom, her study, her two car garage that doubles as her at home gym, her guest bedroom, and end the tour in her living room. 

“My vote for the first movie is Legally Blonde. If you have another suggestion, throw it at me,” she says while grabbing the remote from her coffee table. 

“Yes! I fucking love Legally Blonde!” 

“Perfect, get comfy,” she invites you over to sit on the couch with her. You sit a respectful distance from her, but she shifts her legs so her knee presses into yours. You move a little closer as she starts the movie. 

Sevika keeps pointing out little details in the film, some you already know. You've both seen the movie before so you don't mind talking through it. When you get to the studying montage it reminds you of something you've been meaning to ask her. 

“What was college like for you? Did you ever miss out on social events to study? Wait, were you in greek life at all?” 

“Ha! No I wasn't in a sorority or anything like that. I wasn't very social my freshman year,” she pauses and frowns like she's trying to recall a memory, “Yeah, this counts as a second date which is usually when I disclose this so you're right on time for this conversation. So I am a trans woman. And I was 23 when I could finally afford a higher education. At that point I was around 4 years into my transition and I was still still finding my confidence.” 

You move even closer to her, needing to listen. 

“I grew up really poor in a town where everyone knew everyone's business so University was a massive change for me and I had a horrible time adjusting. But sophomore year I finally got out. Mostly bars, but I got out. My junior year, I feel, is where I really found my confidence. By that point, I only went to a lesbian bar, it's still there, and one night I was talking with a friend of mine, fellow trans lady, about life and how I was struggling with balancing my femininity and masculinity. And she genuinely changed my life when she said this,” Sevika shifts her weight so she can fully face you, “She said ‘I think not enough trans women realize that we can be butch too.’ and it resonated with me. And now, being butch is the most comfortable and complete I've ever felt in my femininity.” 

You don't want to say it now but you're falling hard for her. She came out to you so matter-of-factly and vulnerably so you feel you need to match that energy. You place a hand on her knee, rubbing smooth circles over the fabric of her sweatpants.

“I've always thought that being butch is very beautiful and now… I guess I get to see how beautiful being trans and butch is. You're the most amazing person I've ever met, genuinely.” 

Sevika pulls you in by your shoulders and to her chest for a hug. You wrap your arms around her and feel her relax in your embrace. You stay like that for a long time hearing the movie play in the background. The only sound you're listening to is her breathing and heartbeat. Neither of you want to be the first to pull away. 

“I don't know about you but my leg fell asleep about five minutes ago,” Sevika mumbles. 

“Shit, I'm sorry!” you move your weight off her and see how uncomfortably she's been sitting. 

“Why are you apologizing? I'm the one who didn't say anything for five minutes!” she corrects and the two of you rearrange how you're sitting on the couch.  

“I still feel like apologizing! I'm sorry!” 

“Stop saying sorry!” Sevika silences your next apology with a kiss. You immediately sigh and melt into her, hands cupping her face. You pull away to give her nose a little kiss, a little promise of a third date. 

divider by @cafekitsune taglist: @archangeldyke-all @maneskinwh0re @ennabear

[pinkrosylux]

this is different from what i normally post, but still I feel the need to speak on it. if you disagree, feel free to unfollow, thank you.

if you stand by the mass deportations issued by president trump, I hope you stay awake at night, just knowing the pain you've inflicted. with that one vote, you've managed to separate families, you've managed to strip daughters of their mothers, son's from their fathers, you've managed to instill a country-wide fear that disgusts me to even consider. no family should be separated. no person should have to go through something as traumatizing as the deportation system, period.

if your reasoning sounds somewhat like "they're taking our jobs" or "they're criminals", you are one brainwashed fuck, because Mexicans and Latinos in general, have been doing the jobs none of the Americans have wanted to touch. they do your work for you. they make your food. they make your clothes. and yet you complain. so instead, I encourage you to fully stick with your opinion if you wish. but never again do I want to see you dance to our music, eat our foods, wear our clothes, vacation in Mexico, none of it. live with the god-awful decision you've made. and please, if you're here undocumented, know your rights. educate yourself on what can be done. as a child from a family of immigrants, I can't tell you how hard It is to watch the acts surrounding me. ice swarming schools, it sickens me. i pray that a change will be made so soon. america is a fucking mess. chinga la migra; respect the people who feed you. respect the people who make your precious material products. trump-supporting Americans have been behaving so ungrateful, and it stops now.

if you agree, please reblog to spread the word, thank you for reading and ily all. ❤️🤍💚

[leah-lover]

Meeting again. Alexia putellas × reader.

This is a look into the beginning of Alexia and reader's relationship before the big event.

This is part 1 of a series.

My life has been a bliss. As a Spaniard my dream was to join barcelona. I started out at the youth academy and moved up the rank until I found myself as a part of the senior team. 

My journey was full of ups from winning championships with my dream team to winning individual awards. However, I had a few downs, most notably my ACL tear. When I tore my ACL I thought my career had ended. My road to recovery was nothing short of hard but I got through it and came back stronger. I couldn't have gotten through it without my support system at barcelona. I had a whole network of loving friends who helped me, some I grew up with at the academy and others I met on the team. 

My most notable friend was alexia putellas, she and i met in my early days at barca. We bonded over our chosen path, and our will to do anything to be the best. In our early days of friendship I was always in awe of Alexia's eyes. I would find myself gazing into them for a long time.

One day while we were in the tactics room she whispered in my ear with the biggest smirk on her face “ you are staring people are gonna notice.”  my cheeks immediately turned red but i didn't say anything i just refocused my thoughts on the coach.

After everybody left the room, alexia and i stayed behind and closed the door. 

“Do you want to tell me something?” she said with a smile on her face. 

“ Always cocky. It's not funny anymore.” I responded, which led her to stop.

“ and i don't know if i should tell you anything.” I added.

“ Then don't;” she said. She then pushed me against the wall and started kissing me. The motion was swift but surprising. Without hesitation I leaned into the kiss. We didn't separate until our held breaths gave out.

“ Well, that answers that I guess.” I said, holding her hand.

Our relationship was almost perfect for 6 years after that. Of course we had little spats but nothing major. The world didn't know about us but our barca family did. We did everything together. We roomed together, sat in the locker room next to one another. We even captained our team together. She was a midfielder and I was a forward, our chemistry was pertinent on and off the pitch.

While our relationship was thriving, so was women’s football. More eyes were on us every year. The compassion got harder and we got better. We won several league titles,cups and even the champion’s league. The little spats started after Alexia won her ballon d’or. Alexia was a perfectionist, football was her life and it was mine too. We would get cuddled up in bed and watch hours of footage together and we both loved it. But the pressure was too much for her and she started to act out. She would stand me up for dates, not answer my calls, and leave me to go to bed alone. She made me feel like I was an inconvenience to her. I felt like I lost all priority in her life. 

One day I got home from training and left her behind like I had been doing for months. We were supposed to go  have lunch with my parents but she said she had to do extra training so we switched it to dinner. After about an hour of waiting after I got to the restaurant, my parents decided to go home without eating because Alexia didn't show up. She left me stranded  and ashamed. So I decided to end our relationship. I deserved better than to be number 2 in her life. Not after all we had gone through together. 

I got home, packed my bags and waited for her by the door. When she arrived I immediately got up.

“ You not coming to tonight's dinner is the last straw. I tried to be patient but I can't anymore. I love you, I always will. But I am leaving you and barcelona. I am not renewing my contract.3 i said, i then went to her and kissed her. Surprised, she whispered “ I am sorry, please don't leave.” 

I kissed her again and left. 

That was 3 years ago.

[starstruck-sillies]

I have no fucking clue how long I've been fronting for or when the hell that happened, but I have WORDS to say rn.

I am PISSED at created systems. I genuinely can't stand them. I just. GOD.

"I made an alter to cope!" Either that alter formed in a way you *thought* you were doing intentional but weren't, or it's not a fucking alter. You don't just fucking will them into existence. You can't just create dissociative parts because "you feel like it" and even if you could, what the fuck are you doing??? Why would you deliberately do that to yourself. Don't fucking encourage dissociation, that's an awful fucking idea that WILL hurt you. You're actively making things worse for yourself and giving others tips on how to fuck themselves up too. What the FUCK

"I made an alter because I was lonely!" You're maladaptive daydreaming, that's not the same as a fucking alter. Also, ALTERS WON'T FIX LONELINESS. Can they be a good support system when you can't turn to anyone else? Yes. Do they make you less lonely? NO. It's genuinely so fucking lonely to be a system. I was isolated for so long my brain couldn't grow right. I was so isolated for so long my brain made alters just to be able to live like that. And you know what? It didn't make me any less painfully alone and desolate. It didn't help. At all. If anything I was even more lonely. ALTERS ARE NOT REPLACEMENTS FOR SOCIAL INTERACTION, STOP TREATING THEM LIKE THEY ARE. Even if you could somehow make alters, they wouldn't make you any less fucking lonely.

"I made an alter to help my existing system!" Triggering a split deliberately is a horrible fucking idea, possible or not. Once again, you can't just make an alter, and even if you could, DON'T FUCKING DO THAT TO YOURSELF. This one genuinely perplexes me bc like. You're suppose to know what it's like to have alters. Why would you want more of them. (Note from Milkyway; this isn't to say this means you're faking having a CDD, in fact I think it could be a similar thing to wanting more trauma for one reason or another, which is a fairly common trauma symptom, especially in CDD systems, as well as one we experience. This doesn't mean it's at ALL a good idea to indulge in or encourage these thoughts, but this one likely does have a reasonable cause)

"I made an alter because I like the vibe of this character/species/other thing!" ..What?? I???

I just fucking HATE created systems they piss me off so fucking much. I can't fucking stand that they take something from OUR DISORDER and then make it look like some quirky fucking identity. Out of all endos, I hate willos/tulpas the fucking most. Get out of our damn communities and leave us OUT OF YOUR BULLSHIT.

-Reesa (IWC I am VOLATILE rn)

[moremaybank]

'TIL DEATH DO US PART — r.c

pairing rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary the night before your wedding, rafe reminds you that you'll always belong to him

warnings 18+, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, cheating, breeding kink (ish), creampie, language

author's note heyyy new layouttt. also i accidentally deleted the request for this bc i'm an actual idiot. don't hate me pls

rafe masterlist

Your rehearsal dinner looks like something out of a movie. A soft, warm light is cast around the room, reflecting off the chandelier hanging from the centre of the ceiling beautifully. The hall is jam-packed with almost every kook on the island, who are all dressed to the nines and engaging in small talk. 

You spot your fiancé Jackson across the way, catching up with some of his old friends from college. He throws his head back in laughter, assumably in response to a joke, and you smile at how happy he looks. 

A year ago, you never would’ve imagined that you’d find yourself engaged to Jackson. Truthfully, you only ever saw yourself marrying a certain Cameron boy. But things change. You still aren't sure for better or worse, but they have nonetheless. 

Deciding that you need another drink after thinking about he who shall not be named, you navigate through the crowd in pursuit of the bar. 

“A shot of tequila, please.” 

The bartender nods, grabbing a shot glass off one of the shelves and topping it up. You bid him a thank you and quickly down the contents of the small glass. You shut your eyes at the slight burn, feeling the warmth make its way down your system. You let it wash away the memories of him. Even after all this time, you can still feel his hands on you and his soul intertwined with yours, as if he left an imprint on you forever. 

He branded you, and you’ll never forget it, not even when you’re married to Jackson. 

You know it’s horrible. It’s awful. Jackson is an incredible guy. He’s everything Rafe isn’t, everything Rafe could never be, and you can see yourself being happy with him for the rest of your life. But even so, deep down, you still yearn for the imperfection and flawed love that came with being Rafe’s. 

You request another shot, knocking it back faster than your brain can process. The guilt is eating you alive, and you’re desperate to kill it. You shouldn’t be thinking about him. Not here, not now, and certainly not with your poor, unknowing fiancé across the room.

“Rough night?”

A chill runs down your spine, and goosebumps prick at your skin. It’s as if your senses have just come alive at the mere sound of his voice. 

You prepare yourself, shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath before turning around to face him.

There he is, standing in all his devilishly handsome glory. His eyes are as icy and blue as ever, his sharp features already making you weak in the knees. His body is clad in a perfectly tailored Armani suit, with dress shoes to match. 

It’s shameful to admit, but he looks gorgeous. Then again, when does he not?

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

He inches closer to you, his dress shoes lightly clacking against the marble tiles of the floor. “Relax, princess. I just came here to give you your wedding gift, seeing as I’m not invited to the actual wedding.”

“You weren’t invited here, either. If Jackson sees you—”

“—Let him see me. I don’t care.”

Same old Rafe Cameron, you think, cocky as ever.

“You can’t be here, Rafe. I’m not going to let you ruin this for me.” 

Your hands find his arms, and you spin him around before shoving him and making a beeline for the doors. You locate the nearest restroom and push him inside, locking the door behind the two of you.

“I gotta say, I’m not feeling very welcome here,” Rafe notes. 

“That’s because you aren’t. You know Jackson has always felt insecure about our past. It’s not fair of you to come here and try to stir the pot the night before our wedding. You have to go, Rafe.”

Rafe’s eyes trail down your form. The dress you’re wearing outlines your curves perfectly. Your arms are crossed against your chest, further accentuating your cleavage. Thanks to the heels strapped around your ankles, your legs look longer, and you’re glowing more than ever.

“You look stunning,” he notes, rubbing his fingers against his lips as he drinks you in. 

“Why are you here? Seriously.” 

“C’mon, baby. You didn’t think I’d let you marry that fucker without getting one last taste of what’s mine, did you?” 

A sinister-like smirk plasters itself on his face when he notices your stern expression falter, and he knows his words are having the desired effect on you. 

“Don’t go there, Rafe,” you say, walking over to the sink and creating more distance between you. You brace your hands on the counter, taking a deep breath and purposely avoiding Rafe’s heated gaze in the mirror's reflection. 

“Why? ‘Cause you’ll jump at the chance?” He asks, stepping closer to you. “I can see it in your eyes, princess. You miss me.”

You scoff, “Actually, I don’t."

“You do. You miss my hands on you,” he whispers. His large hands find your hips. He glides them upward and toward your tits. He cups them over your dress, squeezing them and then revelling in the small, tortured moan you let out. 

His lips brush against the shell of your ear, “You miss my lips on you.” 

Then, his hands slide down to your hips again, pulling your ass against the hard cock in the confinement of his slacks. “And you miss my cock inside of you, fucking you ‘til you’re babbling.”

You can feel yourself growing wet as he rubs against you, and you’re tempted to lean into his touch and give in. But then you think about how wrong this is. Yes, you’re harbouring feelings for your ex, but you’ve never acted on them and never planned to. And so, coming to your senses, you brush him off and turn to face him.

“Go home, Rafe. You…you have to go home.” 

You're barely able to maintain eye contact with him, and you're sure he'll either call your bluff or straight-up ignore your wishes.

“I’m not going anywhere."

Straight-up ignoring, it is.

“Stop it.”

“No,” he simply states. “You’re mine whether you like it or not, don’t you get that? You can’t walk away from this. From me.”

Rafe’s tongue darts out to moisten his lips as he stares down at you, awaiting your next move. He senses your uncertainty. He knows you need him just as much as he needs you, and he can see how hard you’re trying to fight it. 

He’s always loved your fiery persistence.

His gaze intensifies on yours, and before you can speak, his hand slips under the slit of your dress, cupping your wet core through your barely-there panties. The familiar feeling of his cool rings against you makes you shiver, just like old times.

“Look at that. Your pussy’s giving you away, baby. Even she knows you can’t resist me.” 

“Bite me,” you grit out, trying your best not to give him a reaction when his fingers tease your clit. 

“I will. Just remember you asked for it.” His head dips down, and he scrapes his teeth against your jawline, partially making good on his promise.

“You’re impossible. I can’t even look you in the eye right now.”

“Then turn the fuck around,” he says, both hands grabbing you before he spins you around to face the mirror. He hikes your dress up over your hips and tugs your panties to the side. You hear the clinking of his buckle as he undoes his belt, along with the unfastening of his zipper, and before you know it, his cock slams into you without warning. You inhale sharply at the sudden intrusion, and Rafe does nothing to hide the smug look on his face. 

Without allowing you to adjust, he starts to snap his hips against yours quickly and harshly, as if he’s punishing you for even daring to look in another man’s direction. 

“Rafe, fuck,” you whine, your sanity now long gone. Your mouth is wide open as you take his harsh thrusts. He uses this opportunity to fuck the idea into your brain: you will never be rid of him.

“Look how much you missed me. It’s written all over your face. Not to mention, all over my cock,” he grates, referring to the arousal you've coated him in. He goes harder, impaling you balls deep. “So fucking needy. Does he even fuck you right? Get you off? Or are you thinking of me when he tries?”

“Shut the fuck up and make me cum, Rafe.”

“I don’t think you’re in the position to make demands, sweetheart. Not when you’re about to marry a pathetic nobody that can’t make you scream like I can.”

You hate how his words still cut deep, mainly because he’s right. But you don’t want to give him the satisfaction, not when he’s already getting what he wants from you. 

You shut your eyes, trying to ignore him, but Rafe quickly shuts that down. He lands a harsh slap on your ass before gripping your throat. “Nuh-uh. You’re gonna watch me while I fuck you. You need to know that your pussy belongs to me. All your cum and all your orgasms belong to me. Not him. Not anyone else. Me.” 

You stare into his eyes in the mirror’s reflection after opening them back up, biting your lip as you try to keep yourself quiet. 

“There she is. There’s my girl,” he rasps. His hand leaves your throat, slithering down to your clit and rubbing rough circles into it. He feels your knees buckle when he does so, and he doesn’t miss the breathy moan that escapes your lips. “Fuck, I missed those sounds, princess.”

Rafe’s cock jams into a particularly deep spot inside of you, and before you can stop yourself, you yelp loudly. His jaw clenches, and the hand on your clit abandons it to cover your mouth and muffle your noises. 

“Make one more noise, and everyone in the goddamn party will know what a greedy fucking whore you are. One dick just isn’t enough to satisfy my girl, huh?” 

The secrecy and excitement blossoming from your current affair both send you into a spiral. You whimper against the palm of his hand, and you bite down on the skin to silence yourself. He’s reaching immaculate places and making you see stars, and you think that this must be what heaven feels like. You’re not quite sure what to make of the fact that Rafe is bringing paradise to you instead of your loving and faithful fiancé, but all you can focus on is how electrified you feel. 

“Play with your clit. Soak my fucking cock, baby.”

You do, flicking it relentlessly as Rafe fucks you over the edge. You cry into his hand, your breath shaky as your body jerks. The warmth spreads throughout your body, leaving a dewy glow on your skin. 

Rafe releases his hand from your mouth and returns it to your hip to get his own. He pulls you back into him repeatedly, his cock jamming into you and weakening your legs. 

“I’m going to cum right inside this pussy. Imagine if you were walking around on your wedding day with my baby in there. I think you’d fucking love that,” he grunts, getting himself worked up even further. Your walls flutter around him, thanks to his filthy mouth. He chuckles breathlessly, “That’s what I fucking thought.”

You reach behind you, grabbing his balls and massaging them in your hand. You feel his cock twitch inside you, followed by the heat of his cum shooting into your walls and painting them white. Rafe rides out his orgasm, and once he calms down, he pulls out of you. He moves your panties back into place and pulls your dress back down before tapping your butt with his index and middle finger.

“Now run back out there to your loser fiancé with my cum dripping down your thighs. Congratulations on the wedding.” 

updated rafe taglist (join here!): @pankowperfection @tinyluvs @oncasette @rafesmoon @hopesdadswife @taintedxkisses @maybankslover @goldenroutledge @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @whoisdrewstarkey @dreamingwithrafe @vigilanteshitposting @twelfthmortalofcrimsonpalace @laineywilsons @sw34terw34ther @adoreyouusugar @rosie-cameron @f4ll-for-you @rafesdirtyslut @tell-me-when-ur-ready @bbycowboi @venomwh0re @cecesrings @cumbuckett @jjmaybankisbae @mvybanks

[inbabylontheywept]

Hi! Back again. I've been reading through your blog. You said in response to an ask about your username that you consider yourself to be "very religious, but not at all spiritual" and that just made me go "!!!!!!" because that sounds exactly how my husband (who is also autistic, and who also used to be Mormon) would describe himself. There are so, so many wonderful things about religion - about the community of it, and the routine of it, and the way it brings people together and builds a support system out of it - but he's never felt spiritual a day in his life. You mentioned in that same ask response that you got burned out on the exmormon subreddit bc they were too bitter. Me too, tbh. It's why I tend to describe myself as "post mormon" or "used to be mormon" instead of "ex mormon" since that seems so heavily associated with rage and bitterness. And like. I'm not denying that the Mormon church has done, and condoned, and continues to do, many awful awful things, many of which are why I left. But like. There's a lot that was and is good about that kind of community also, which I miss. I miss religion. (I don't miss doctrine)

Anyways this ask didn't have much of a purpose other than to say SAME HAT but SAME HAT

I just got tired of all the baggage tied to my name. I basically tried avoiding that stuff with my wife early on in the relationship, but on our second date we went to the Phoenix art gallery, and there's a room in it where the walls and ceiling are mirrors, and there are strand lights hanging down. To most people it's supposed to be like standing in space. But in a lot of Mormon temples, there's mirrors facing each other by the marriage altar to provide a sort of visio-spatial comparison of what going forward with someone forever looks like.

So from my cultural background, it was kind of like considering what it would be like to be married to someone on the second date, and I was so visibly flustered by the whole thing that I wound up explaining it to her on the way down the stairs to the basement level. And then it turned out that she'd grown up Mormon, but unlike me, where I left and dragged most of my family with me starting around age 15, her parents left around age 8, so all she had were some weird stories about Nephites and Lamanites.

She laughed and it took a lot of the weirdness out. She's great. It was actually really nice, to realize I was with someone who got the culture but never really got the doctrine.

Which is to say: Nice hat. Wink.

[lalithemidnightmuse7]

People love Kendall Roy for the same reason they hate Alicent Hightower—because they both show weakness. But in our modern society, weakness in a man is romanticized. It makes him human, someone to sympathize with, to “cuddle” because he’s just so babygirl. That’s why people love Aemond and Daemon too. But weakness in a woman? Unacceptable. You are not to be welcomed into the club. That is misogyny—loving and forgiving men for the exact same things we shame women for.

Kendall and Alicent have so many similarities, so many parallels, yet the fandom perceives them completely differently. And the fandom is dominated by women!

You say Alicent was a horrible friend to Rhaenyra, that she betrayed her by not telling her about being sent to Viserys. And yeah, that was awful. But what did you expect to happen? PEOPLE RELATE TO THIS THINKING OF HIGHTSCHOOL DRAMA IT'S NOT. They were ladies in a court ruled by men. Alicent was a 17-year-old girl whose only family was her father—a father she feared. She had abandonment issues. And you think she was going to say no to him? That she was going to stand up for herself when she had never been allowed to before? When she knew that hating it wouldn’t change a thing? She had no power. She wasn’t a princess. She was a girl trapped in a situation she couldn’t escape, and yet people have zero real sympathy for her.

Why? Because she should’ve stood by her friend? The same friend who had firsthand experience of how powerless women were but still chose to blame her? Who knew Alicent’s nature, knew she wasn’t power-hungry like Otto, and still turned on her? But somehow, that same friend found it in her heart to forgive Daemon—a man who had been nothing but monstrous for years.

All the hate for her because she was horrible to Rhaenyra—when Rhaenyra left her alone when she needed her the most.

And then there’s Kendall. A man who, like Alicent, was put into an oppressive system, struggled with loyalty and duty, and made morally complex choices that could be seen as betrayal or survival. But he gets forgiven. He gets pitied. Because he sheds a few tears. Because the show lets us see his suffering. But Alicent’s suffering? Her self-blame, her low self-esteem? Completely ignored.

Alicent was a bad mother? Sorry, when? Where is the scene that makes that obvious? Was she a great mother? No. How could she be? She couldn’t even protect herself. Her first enemy was her own father. Then her husband. Then her only friend in court, who saw her as nothing more than a political obstacle. She spent her whole life being treated as a piece of meat, and now she has to watch her eldest son turn into a monster.

Ignoring his crimes—yeah, that was horrific. But you really think telling someone in court would’ve changed anything? This was a world where such crimes were brushed off and forgiven when committed by commoners. You think they would’ve imprisoned a prince? That Viserys would’ve done something? That the other lords would’ve cared? His reputation was already known all over the kingdoms—and nothing happened.

Meanwhile, Kendall, a man who is also not a great father—who barely sees his kids—is still given the benefit of the doubt. Because he’s trying, right? He’s struggling. But Alicent? No, she’s just a failure.

And Rhaenyra? Was she a great mother? Did she not worsen her sons’ claims by leaving the court? Did she not use them as pawns in her political games? Did she not marry Daemon knowing how that would look? Knowing exactly the kind of person he was? A murderer. A Targaryen supremacist. A man who requested blonde virgin girls in brothels.

But sure, tell me more about how Alicent is the real villain here.

And of course, you would hate Alicent. She doesn’t align with the vision of the loved women of today’s society. It’s so much easier to root for Rhaenyra—the rule-breaker, the tragic feminist icon. And I agree. But can’t you see? Didn’t it mean anything to you to see Alicent dead in that bed with her much older husband who cared nothing for her? Who used her for the sole reason of having children? Who would’ve cut her open too to take what he wanted?

Didn’t it mean anything to you to see the blood on her fingers, knowing exactly what that meant? To see her selling the only thing she could barely call hers—her body—to Larys? No sympathy? Nothing at all?

Also...if you really want to stand morally , you should only stand with kids, smallfolk and heleana.

[throwaway888890]

hi I am extremely nervous about making this post because I have tried my very best to stay out of this person's way and their drama because I didn't want to be associated with it anymore but I simply cannot stand it anymore.

hi. I'm the ex girlfriend that was mentioned in those posts and I can confirm this is all very likely to be true.

mts has a horrible history of abusive behavior and doing whatever they can to keep their victims silent.

I am one of those victims.

mts has been obsessed with me for years now and we had a horrible off and on relationship that started when we were 11/12 that would go on to ruin us when we were 16.

we got a lot of shit (and by we I also mean my system because we have OSDD) from them but I can say it was nothing near as severe as to what their former partner went through.

we were bullied, harrassed, catfished and isolated from not only friends but they even reached out to our mother on an occasion in an effort to "punish" us.

when we would give anyone more attention then them, they'd split and have a meltdown and start up old drama to isolate us from anyone but them.

when we were trying to be better, they would lie to others faces and complain about us nonstop to make them think we were horrible meanwhile talking directly to our faces about how good we were doing.

they tried to catfish us on more then one occasion, the main one being the summer of 2022 where they said they were trying to "be friends" with us again and they along with their partner, and two other people played with us like we were some sort of pawn.

one of those people catfishes us as a person named Otis and made up horrible stories for us to feel empathetic towards them and try to help them. this went on for about a month and a half until I am guessing no one wanted to keep up the charade as it ended abruptly and then MTS split on us for apparently no reason and isolated us once again.

at that time the only reason we can think of this happening was because our former host grew close to not only their partner but who played 'Otis' and they no longer desired to keep it up. (this is a guess, this hasn't been confirmed.)

(they also tried to catfish us as another person named sparrow but we caught onto that quickly)

they went on to tell us everything was our fault and that we were horrible and berate us in many different ways.

we split ways for quite a while after that.

some months passed and they reached out again and we were extremely wary of them at this point. they said they were sorry and trying to do better but we held them at extreme arms length and mostly survived not talking to them because of our partner at the time.

when that ended mts immediately swooped in and tried to get us back and we did, except it wasn't for them. it was for their partner.

we had talked a bit during that summer of 22 and grown to like each other but were forced away from each other due to them. we started talking and eventually grew to have crushes on each other.

they alone convinced us to date them and mts again.

we were not in it for mts. we only liked their partner.

it was during this time we learned mts had been hitting them and abusing them whenever they didn't get their way.

we knew the depths of mts's psychological abuse as victims ourselves and because we were scared of being targeted again, we left once more.

we felt awful for leaving the partner but we couldn't go through what we had with mts before again. the suicide baiting, the horrible rumors, the mistreatment, the alters switching up constantly and never knowing who was telling the truth. everything seemed to change at will and as we grew up with time away from them we realized how much plain psychological manipulation there was.

for ages we felt horrible about leaving the partner- we still do.

during this time mts was editing their messages in our dms after we blocked them constantly. telling us how much they missed us, begging us to come back, using alters we were closest to and having then beg and plead that they would do everything to appease us. we admittedly watched this all in silence.

in the summer of last year (2024) we reached out to their partner again after hearing they had broken up. we talked and caught up and we encouraged them to kick mts out of their house bht they were understandably scared.

after this talk, we had learned right after our conversation that they had turned around and slept with them.

we went dry after that. we were disappointed and appalled and also devastated they could not see the things we saw and so desperately wanted them to get away from.

about a month later we checked the blocked messages of mts to find that they were apologizing for their partner saying they were sorry they slept with them and to forgive them and also that we should come back among other things.

we were deeply disappointed in their partner at the time as well as deeply insecure that no one would ever love us except MTS. eventually we broke and edited a reply to then saying we didn't know what to feel or think or really who we were anymore.

a lot had changed in our own system since we tore apart from them (it had been almost a year at this point) and we were feeling lost and alone.

not long after that we deleted our account so we could force ourselves to stop checking the messages and prevent ourselves from responding further.

that was all for months until we were alerted that they were going around trying to apologize about everything they had done to us. they told everyone how they messed us up and how they made us out to be horrible to everyone when we had gotten better.

they continued to try to "be better" and used us as an example of getting better and said they wanted to be like us.

about a month ago we received a dm from one of their friends requesting we read a Google document from them. it was a layered apology but also manipulation was plain as day from what we coild see now.

their "apology" contained mentions of how we'd "messed up in the past" and how they couldn't "speak for others" which they always knew made us feel horrible and used to guilt trip us constantly before along with copying padting word for word a conversation one of their hosts Finn had with our former host about talking things out before we left as we had a habit of running away. any thoughts of hearing them out went out the window at that.

there was no talking to them about anything. they'd get better for a little while before ending up right back where we started and eventually we woke up and realized that. we couldn't take it anymore and we left.

we know they have been stalking us for ages as we would get notifications from many accounts we'd have to block along with finding out they would steal our playlists on spotify by forcing their partners partner to take them for them after we had blocked them.

we have had to block many of their friends as well because of profile views and the knowledge of them stalking us.

they had our body name plastered all over their things as well at one point had our government name and face in their public profile and talked about us frequently talking about how we were their soul mate and true love. they had us in their SP multiple times and were deeply and truly obsessed with us.

they even sent mail to our house and admitted to stalking our residence on Google earth.

i cannot say what is true aside from the physical and psychological abuse of their partner and the emotional and psychological abuse of us, but there is no doubt in my mind that everything in those tweets are true.

they are horribly messed up people.

thank you for taking time to read this.

there will be more photos contained in the notes of this post.

[ofmdrecaps]

01/21-23/2025 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Happy Birthday Ewen Bremner!; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Con O'Neill; Vico Ortiz; Gypsy Taylor; Andrew DeYoung / Andy Rydzewski; Damien Gerard; Articles; Fan Spotlight: Nes & The Tiny Co-Captains; Never Left Podcast; Love Notes;

== Happy Birthday Ewen Bremner! ==

First and foremost, Happy Belated Birthday to our one and only Mr. Buttons -- Ewen Bremner! His birthday was on Jan 23! Hope it was wonderful sir!

= David Jenkins =

David sending us some love in these trying times. Remember to keep you humor, luvs.

Source David's Bsky

= Rhys Darby =

Rhys has been VERY active the last few days with SF Sketchfest going on amongst other things! In continuing with sharing his stand ups, we got more from the wallet in the skinny jeans bit!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Rhys Darby (@rhysiedarby)

Source: Rhys' Instagram

= SF Sketch Fest =

In addition, some pretty cool stuff came out of the SF Sketch Fest! Rhys did stand up, but he also participated in the 45th Anniversary Live Read of Airplane! We also got some pictures that broke the fandom for a few days.

Sources: Cobbs Comedy Club

A clip from the Airplane read! (thank you to @wastingyourgum for find it on facebook!)

Source: Matlock Zumsteg's Facebook

Rhys found D (for Darbs) while out at the show! You can check out the SF Sketchfest BTS he has on his paid substack here!

Source: Rhys' Paid Substack

While Rhys wasn't actually present, him and his early career came up on The Dom Harvey show! Thanks Moosh for sharing!

Source: The Godfather of NZ Comedy

= Con O'Neill =

Jan 22nd was the 10th anniversary of the show Cucumber - starring Con O'Neill!

Source: RusselTDavie's IG

= Vico Ortiz =

Vico shared some heartfelt messages on their current journey/transitions going on in their life on their instagram.

"Grief is such a painfully fascinating, terrifying, devastatingly beautiful and powerful experience. I am in constant awe of its transformative prowess. I must confess I am in the thick of it. Discovering the times I am paralyzed by it as well as times where I surrender to it and witness how it ebbs and flows within me. Transforming me. There are some things I was already expecting. But other things out of my control (the LA fires/Presidential transition being some big ones) one took me completely took me by surprise, the other I have been bracing myself for and I recognize that I am in swimming in the trenches. Im experiencing pain, joy, anger, celebration, sadness, frustration, gratitude…. All of it coming at me in chaotic order, showing up in the most random of places, and in ways I never imagined my heart and nervous system could experience. Im learning how to let myself be human each an everyday in a system that is determined to separate me from myself, from my/our humanity. It’s messy. It’s beautiful. It’s chaotic. It’s expansive. While the fires have devastated me and have left me undone in ways I wasn’t expecting, one thing I am abundantly certain of: no matter what anyone says, regardless of their political “power”… I will always exist. Who I am and who/how I love is a non-negotiable. And I will fight tooth and fuckin nail for my/our right to exist visibly and I will be louder each and everyday because I deserve to be here in this world and you deserve to be here in it with me, celebrating who we are every goddamn day. While I know IG is the only Meta app I’m currently using, I’ll keep my eyes peeled for ways in which we can engage in community that feels safe and affirming. Im enjoying the substack space with @todayingaypod as well Patreon and BlueSky! While TikTok was a good place, I’m currently putting it under observation after the whole shutdown/brought back debacle. I love yall… I genuinely am so grateful that we have each other even if the systems put in place are whack af. Squeezing everyone tenderly 🫂 Enjoy a glimpse of many transitions, moments of levity and honoring ancestry through these photos 🫶🏽✨"

Vico also posted More OFMD BTS on their Patreon!!

Source: Vico's Paid Patreon

= Gypsy Taylor =

Some of Gypsy's works being highlighted from The Newsreader Season 3!

Source: Gypsy's IG Stories

= Andrew DeYoung / Andy Rydzewski =

One of our Directors, Andrew, and our cinematographers, Andy are on their way to SXSW (South By South West) Film and TV Festival for their film 'Friendship'! It's an official selection! Congrats you two!

Source: Andy's IG Stories

= Damien Gerard =

Our Father Teach, Damien, is blessing us with more and more cat content, Athena is such a work of art <3

Source: Damien's Bsky

== Articles ==

Thank you so much to @adoptourcrew for keeping us up to date in all things OFMD Article related!!

GeekSpin Article

source: Adopt Our Crew Bsky

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Nes & The Tiny Co-captains =

So I will spread this out over a couple of recaps because the massive Rhys section above took most of my picture allotment! But I wanted to take a moment to highlight the adorable artwork of Nes. Their Tiny Co-Captains are such a break in my day every time I stumble upon them. Whether they're spending time together, eating cherries, going on silly adventures, Nes brings such joy and life to them that I just wanted to take a moment and appreciate the perfect chibi co-captains and their fabulous creator. I especially adore Archie and look at this super adorable snake for the Year of the Snake! If you aren't already following Nes, please check out their work below! It'll bring a smile to your face even on the roughest days!

Bsky / IG / Tumblr

Nes' Linktr.ee

Source: Nes' Bsky

= Never Left Podcast =

A new episode is back, and this time they're talking about the story in Stede's spank book! 👀 Check it out on your favorite podcast platform!

Source: Never Left Instagram

== Love Notes ==

I know you're tired lovelies. I am too. Been a hell of a year so far.

Please remember to rest, and take care of yourself. Drink your water, eat some food, and laugh if you can. The world feels dark, but you are the light within it. You make it beautiful, and keep it kind. You will shine brighter when you can recuperate and rest-- so please take care of you for a while. Sending Love your way <3

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A post shared by Nanea Hoffman (@sweatpantsandcoffee)

Source: SweatPantsAndCoffee Instagram