#now i'm just. i don't know what to do. is it a punishment

[cherrygirlfriend]

do your job right pairing: assistant!reader x ceo!rafe synopsis: assistant!reader forgets to mail important documents; the diligent mr. cameron makes sure it doesn't happen again. warnings: smut, spanking, degradation, praise MDNI - wc: 1.1k this is the first day of my birthday-week fics! honestly i had a blast working on all of these and i hope people enjoy them. ᯓᡣ𐭩

rafe had always been a hardworking man, especially when it came to his business, and he couldn't stand it when his employees didn't do their jobs right. people say that you can either choose to be feared, or respected, and rafe cameron was the kind of man who'd rather be feared.

so, the fact that he refused to fire the ditzy, airheaded girl who'd been hired as his assistant was nothing short of a miracle in the eyes of his other employees. what they didn't know, they couldn't ruin.

you were shaking as you walked towards his office, wobbly on your kitten heels, the tone that rafe used with you still fresh in your mind.

"come into my fucking office. right now." he had barked into your phone, before shutting the call. you chewed on your lower lip, not knowing what you had done this time for him to be cross with you. still, you lifted your hand, softly knocking on the door with the golden nameplate reading 'r. cameron'.

"come in."

you took a deep breath before pulling the door open, revealing your boss leaning against his desk, the sleeves of his button-up rolled up to his elbows, crossed in front of his chest, a harsh look on his face, his eyes as cold as ice.

"lock the door."

hesitantly, you did as you were told, chewing on your lower lip, looking at him through your eyelashes. "w-what did i do this time?" you asked with a shaky voice.

rafe let out a small chuckle, entirely devoid of any positive emotion before clearing his throat, picking up a small stack of papers off his desk, and when you realized what they were, you felt all the blood drain from your face. "look familiar, hm?"

"mr. cameron, i'm sorry, i swear i was going to-"

"but you didn't." rafe interrupted you, tutting as he shook his head, one of his hands going to scratch his chin in thought, "you know, i'm starting to think you keep doing this on purpose. that you like it when i get mad at you, when i punish you. 'cause i don't know how someone could be so... dumb to keep making these mistakes."

"i'm sorry, i'll send it over right now, please-"

"no. that's not how this works." he pushed himself away from his desk, slowly striding over to you. looking at you up and down, rafe lifted your head up from your chin, making you look up at him. "you know the drill. desk. bend over."

"mr. cam-"

"now."

the air of finality in his voice caused a shiver to run down your spine as your wobbly legs took you to his desk, and you hesitantly bent yourself over his desk, the desk cold against your arms.

"you know what to do." rafe said, his hand resting over your ass that felt bare under his touch even with the fabric of your pencil skirt that was separating your skin from his, a rush of heat in your lower stomach. "count for me."

slowly, he pushed up the fabric of your skirt, revealing your bare ass, rafe letting out a small chuckle, "i see you decided not to wear panties, like i've asked. looks like my dumb little secretary can actually listen. you know what they say about broken clocks."

he grabbed at the flesh of your ass, massaging it slightly as he tutted, "five. you ready?"

"y-yes..." you mumbled weakly, squeezing your eyes shut and biting down on you're lower lip, preparing yourself for the impact.

a loud smacking sound echoed around his office before you could even register the sting on your ass, a small squeal unwillingly escaping your lips as your body was jolted forward by the impact.

"o-one." you counted, rafe's palm massaging at the buttock he had just slapped, before slowly pulling it away.

"you know, if you weren't such a dumb, forgetful slut, i wouldn't have to be doing this."

before you could even process what he had said, his rafe's palm landed another slap on your ass, your body jolting forward once again. this time, he didn't even take the time to massage your buttock before he pulled his hand away, delivering another slap to your ass almost immediately, one that made you let out a noise that was something between a moan and a squeal even though you were biting down on your lower lip so harshly you could taste blood.

"count."

you took in a deep breath as he massaged your ass, trying to stabilize yourself, your breathing erratic, feeling your heartbeat in your throat. "t-two, and, uh... three."

"i'm surprised," rafe cooed mockingly, "that a dumb little thing like you can even do simple maths."

rafe pulled his hand away, and you intertwined your own fingers together as a way to calm yourself down, your eyes stinging with tears threatening to fall, and once you felt his palm hitting your ass once again, a tear rolled down your cheek, your entire face feeling warm as you managed to pitifully let out the word "four." and although you were hurting, you also couldn't deny the arousal starting to gather between your legs.

"i mean, you'd think that you'd understand how important my work is. you could lose me thousands for forgetting to mail those papers." he tutted, pulling his hand away, "so, what are you gonna do from now on?"

"i-i'm gonna remember it, mr. cameron, i promise."

"that's my girl." rafe said, and once again, you felt his palm connect with your ass, a small yelp leaving your lips.

"five..." you babbled almost incoherently, a panting mess, certain that by now your asscheeks were red in the shape of rafe's large hands, a sigh of relief leaving your lips when you realized that your punishment was over, a small hiss escaping your lips when the pained skin of your ass was met with the biting air of rafe's office.

"you did so well..." rafe said quietly, softly massaging your asscheeks before slowly sliding your skirt back down, smoothing it out. he helped you stand up, his bulge obvious in his trousers as he turned you around to face him, cupping your chin to once again lift your head up to look at him, "go home for the rest of the day, okay? take a warm bath and rest, hm?"

you nodded your head, looking up at him with your vision blurred by tears, rafe wiping the blood off your lower lip, "you did really well. i'm proud of you." he said, bringing his lips down to meet yours in a gentle kiss, his hand cupping your cheek so affectionately it was hard for you to tell if the man holding onto you was really the same man that had just punished you.

when he pulled away, rafe looked down at you with a sweet smile, "i'll come by later, alright?"

"alright." you nodded with a similar smile, leaning into his touch. when rafe pulled away from you, you smoothed down your skirt, slowly making your way to his office door.

maybe he knew, or maybe he didn't, but you'd never tell him that your little accident was anything but that. that they never were accidents.

[your-reluctant-optimist]

Also, please be careful what you're actually punishing your kid for. My dad wouldn't punish us for whatever we'd actually done; it would turn into a battle of wills and him punishing us for hurting his feelings/bruising his ego/defying his authority.

It was never 'Hey, 12-year-old Optimist! We do NOT call people that word, that is a nasty thing to call someone!'

It was, 'Fuck you, fuck you. You hurt me, you little brat? Well I'm gonna hurt you worse. Taking this from you didn't hurt you enough? I'll have this as well. What's gonna hurt you most? Oh, don't turn on the waterworks!'

(He hated it when we cried. I still don't know why. He'd mock us for crying and always use that phrase, 'turning on the waterworks'. I hate that phrase to this day.)

Did his punishments teach me anything? No, of course not. I just started pretending to be sad when he took away some random thing, begging for it back, and even now I hide what's actually important to me from him so he can't ever threaten it.

So, yes, even 'reasonable' punishments like taking a kid's phone can be abusive. All depends on the framing.

A lot of people around me are having kids and every day it becomes more apparent that hitting your children to punish them is insane because literally everything can be a horrible punishment in their eyes if you frame it as such.

Like, one family makes their toddler sit on the stairs for three minutes when he hits his brother or whatever. The stairs are well lit and he can see his family the whole time, he’s just not allowed to get up and leave the stairs or the timer starts over. He fucking hates it just because it’s framed as a punishment.

Another family use a baseball cap. It’s just a plain blue cap with nothing on it. When their toddler needs discipline he gets a timeout on a chair and has to put the cap on. When they’re out and about he just has to wear the cap but it gets the same reaction. Nobody around them can tell he’s being punished because it’s in no way an embarrassing cap, but HE knows and just the threat of having to wear it is enough.

And there isn’t the same contempt afterwards I’ve seen with kids whose parents hit them. One time the kid swung a stick at my dog, his mother immediately made him sit on the stairs, he screamed but stayed put, then he came over to my dog and gently said “Sorry Ellie” and went back to playing like nothing happened, but this time without swinging sticks at the nearby animals.

[rootspiral]

AGATHA ALL ALONG DEEP DIVE: episode 1 part 1

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2])

IT'S TIME TO REWATCH AGATHA ALL ALONG, WITCHES! And as usual, spoilers below.

episode 1, Seekest Thou The Road

Wanda is dead (no she ain't). As a result, her spell is weakened and Agatha has changed from her nosy neighbor character to detective Agnes (or caught the true crime bug, as Herb will put it.)

Stinky grimy Agnes, so serious and depressed. As soon as she appears onscreen she's humming the Ballad.

Detective Agnes has just been recalled to action after being off duty for a while. She was punished for "punching a suspect", which is code for going after Wanda. Agnes points out that now the suspect is a convicted felon, i.e. that she was right after all and Wanda is dangerous and evil. "I can't be right and wrong" she says. "Yes, you can" says Herb, because both Agatha and Wanda are villain and victim. And lol at the police tape symbolizing Herb's fence. You know the poor guy is in his garden looking down at Agnes in her Bonher family tshirt, wondering what the hell is going on.

oh that's a seriously good shot

Agatha looks heartbroken when she sees Wanda's body, doesn't she? She looks so sorry.

Herb (the real Herb behind the illusion) confirms that Agatha is acting different than usual.

THIRD TIME SHE DISCREETLY DRIES HER TEARS

There is nothing funny about Detective Agnes. Or rather, it's funny to watch her because she's so intense, but we laugh at her, she's not being a clown on purpose like Agatha usually is. And Agatha right now is in a lot of pain, even more than usual having completely lost her agency. This character so unkempt, so sad, so doggedly searching for answers, is more true to Agatha's real self than what she usually lets people see. Deep down she's just a tragic lesbian wet rat.

Somebody called in to have the body found, and I think that somebody was Rio. Why would the body be next to the water otherwise? It's like the River of Life laid her gently where Agatha could find her. In other words, Wanda's death brought her to Agatha. I'm curious about these woods too, we know they don't actually exist as this is all in Agatha's head, but where did the idea come from? Are these the woods where she killed the Salemites? Where she gave birth to Nicky? Or where she buried him?

Agatha's victims from the finale flashing throughout the opening. Wherever it may bend, I'll see you at the end.

"based on the danish series WANDAVISDYEN" never fails to destroy me. and it's so clever too, it's like they're telling first time watchers that yes, this seems like a grim detective show, but you clever audiences know that things are not as they seem and this is a parody, right?? this is not serious at all, it's funny! Laugh! Except. It's not funny. It's not funny at all. And you're going to realize only when it's too late. It's the same thing they do with Sharon/Mrs. Hart, they lure you in with laughs only to hit you with heartbreak. This show is not a comedy at all. It's at its very core a senseless tragedy.

Sarah/Dottie lives next door too, was Agatha talking to her through a window, or does the library desk symbolize another fence? This poor woman, hasn't she suffered enough? But they all more or less try to help Agnes, that's sweet. Has anyone from SWORD or whomever dropped in to talk to them, did the Avengers just decide to leave Agatha there? Did Monica (or Ralph) even explain to the poor people of Westview that she's a witch, or do they just think she's a random neighbor who couldn't be saved from Wanda's Hex?

THE MAILMAN CONTINUES BEING SUSPICIOUS. Is Agatha putting words in his mouth, or was he (the "messanger") sent by someone to warn her about the Darkhold being destroyed???

her FACE when she sees Rio

and the way Rio just stares and stares. When you rewatch this scene knowing that this is the first time she gets to see Agatha in centuries... and she has to be cool and she has to be gentle. I think it's deliberate that they put Phil/Harold/Ross Geller in here, because he's one of the funniest people in Westview and it's suggesting a first time viewer to read this scene as a comedy. Except it's a cosmic tale of tragedy and heartbreak, but you're not supposed to notice yet, even if it's right there under your nose.

Stop being such a lone wolf, Agnes. Or rather, stop being such a sad and lonely covenless witch, Agatha.

Rio laughs her delighted little laugh, licks her lips, looks out the window for a moment as if overwhelmed, then goes back looking at Agatha and basically devouring her with her eyes. ("te veo.") (thank you for my life aubrey plaza.) Agatha stares daggers back, but her body language stars getting defensive. She feels very vulnerable.

Yep, defensive. And wistful.

She is doing her job, like always. But she's also going above and beyond. There is technically no need for her to wake Agatha up, but here she is, dropping gentle clues, guiding her with such patience and care.

"If you wanna be in control you can be" is said in such a kind tone, but it's also sexy?? I think Rio really likes for Agatha to take control, in a lot of ways. Her body language is the opposite of what Agatha is doing too.

Oh noes she's making herself so small now. She's like, intrigued and angry and happy and scared to see Rio. They're both being so tentative!! And she doesn't actually know who Rio is because she's under the damn spell, so her body language and feelings are pure instinct. They come from somewhere very very true and deep. (and LOL that mug says "get a clue")

Is this who you are now, Agatha? the intense but lonely detective? she's genuinely interested, because Rio investigates Agatha just as Agatha investigates everybody else. Rio simply cannot get enough of her. and she keeps talking with this gentle, warm, understated tone.

Gains personal space. Keeps staring and staring.

oh now we're leaning. they do this every scene they are together, they keep getting closer and closer even if they don't mean to, like magnets.

Agatha literally bolts to the door and tells her to leave. Rio's presence is so overwhelming in so many different and complicated ways, and she doesn't even understand why that is at the moment. Kathryn Hahn is playing this perfectly straight (no pun intended), there is genuine pain in her voice.

"Te veo", which is not "see you," but I see you, I'm always looking for you, I'm always watching. And I finally see you, after all this time.

Oh, honey.

I'm running out of space again, but I promise I'll continue this tomorrow. Thank you for all the notes you guys, I was not expecting so many! I'm doing this mostly to amuse myself, but it's nice to know that the brainrot is collective 🙃🙃🙃

go to the next entry

[t3a-tan]

Silent But Friendly

A what-if story about what would happen if Oliver met borrower James wayyyy before they actually did

---

They are in silence; though not the uncomfortable stuffy kind, rather a very peaceful quietness that surrounded the dinner table. His uncle worked late most weekends, and so that left Oliver and his aunt to eat alone on that Saturday afternoon.

It was macaroni and cheese tonight— one of Oliver's favourites. He even helped in the kitchen to chop the tomatoes and grate the cheese; aunt Charlie was 7 months pregnant after all and he wanted to do his best to help out.

As he finished his portion he placed his knife and fork together on the table before making eye contact with his aunt. She was eating slowly, mostly picking at the food. Her appetite seemed all over the place during the pregnancy; sometimes Oliver saw her eating lots of snacks, and other times he saw her throwing up from the tiniest bite.

He could see in her face that she was full, though she looked determined to finish the remaining bites. Catching his eye contact, she looked up and smiled tiredly. It was a warm and kind smile; like drinking a hot chocolate in front of the fireplace in the winter. Oliver soaked in that warmth whenever it was available, and right now was no different.

“Thanks for your help in the kitchen, love. It tastes brilliant.” She praised, before sighing as she finally set her fork down. She offered a sheepish grin in his direction. “I don't think I can fit any more... D’ja think you could go put the plates in the kitchen, poppet?”

A simple task really. Oliver didn't mind doing any of his chores or extra for his aunt and uncle— not after they had taken him in and been so kind to him. And sure, he missed his parents sometimes, but it felt much more gratifying to complete a task and receive praise rather than constantly fearing punishment as he had before.

Even if he looked at his mum wrong…he could just remember the look on her eyes. It was cold and distant; like being stranded out in a snowstorm, alone and lost. Resentful.

No…he much preferred living with his aunt and uncle, no matter how many times he woke up clutching his pillow and missing the way things used to be.

Oliver nodded silently, standing up and moving all the cutlery onto her plate before stacking her plate onto his own and lifting them both. He brought them closer to his centre so they'd be easier to carry and began walking towards the kitchen only to pause as his aunt spoke up again.

“Oh— and love? Just while you're up, d’ja think you could grab me a drink of water too?”

He turned back towards her, scanning her expression for a moment and seeing that once again there was nothing but geniality in her gaze. He offered a small smile in return and nodded again. She beamed, leaning on her hand as she looked up at him.

“You are a little sweetheart, you know that?” She praised once more. Oliver averted his eyes, though internally he was very pleased by the praise. He once again only nodded in return before entering the kitchen to go put the plates by the sink.

Next, he grabbed a glass from out of the cabinet and opened the tap, first testing it with his finger to make sure it was cold before holding the glass underneath. Once it was sufficiently full he turned the tap off and returned to the table, setting the glass down in front of his aunt.

She watched him enter with a fond gaze.

“Thanks, love.”

Picking up the glass she raised it to her lips and took a few sips before coughing. Oliver's expression turned to one of worry, his lips mouthing the question he wanted to ask although no sound came out. His hands moved too, signing alongside him.

‘Are you okay?’

She saw the gesture and waved a hand dismissively, nodding a few times, though she looked a bit pale still.

“I'm fine… I'm just gonna head to the bathroom, you stay down here, okay?” She stood up slowly, and Oliver could tell just by the slight winced in her expression that she was having a bout of nausea. He shuffled closer to help her up but she gently waved off his help.

“I'm okay, I promise. Why don't you get your comfies on and I'll come in to you later to read the next chapter of Magic Tree House, hm?”

Although more hesitantly than before, Oliver nodded slowly and watched as his aunt walked up the stairs. Once she had disappeared from view he glanced back towards the kitchen.

I don't think she'll be well enough to wash up… I can do it. I'll just leave things to dry since I can't reach the cupboards.

With that thought in mind he re-entered the kitchen and approached the sink, putting some dish liquid in the washing up bowl and starting to fill it up with warm water only to jolt when a sound caught his attention.

It was faint, he hardly heard it thanks to the sound of water on water, but he still heard it. A cry. Oliver turned the tap back off, glancing around and listening for it again.

Nothing.

As he looked around for any sign of what could have made the noise— or god knows it would bother him for the entire evening— he then noticed that the cylindrical tub of oats that sat beside the other cereal was…open. The lid wasn't off all the way, laying balanced and slightly ajar.

Oliver watched it silently for a few moments, wondering how exactly it had ended up that way. He had used the oats last when he ate porridge earlier in the week, so he knew that he had closed it once he was done using it. He even remembered looking at it this morning and never noticed anything off about the lid.

Unable to come up with a plausible theory, he sought to find answers as he approached the countertop the tub of oats was on, tilting his head ever so slightly.

Is it…a mouse..? Unafraid and full of curiosity his hands gripped the base of the tub and he tilted it towards himself to peer in through the opening, the lid clattering onto the counter as he did so. He expected just…oats. Maybe a mouse or a rat.

What he didn't expect was a pair of brown eyes staring up at him through a mop of messy long black hair. There, sprawled out and covered in oat dust, was a tiny boy.

Oliver stared silently— even if he wanted to speak he was at a loss for words, simply gazing down at the boy through his glasses, his mind blanching. He tilted the tub down more just so he could get a better look, listening to the little yelp that escaped the boy as more oats rolled over him.

The walls are much too high…he must have fallen in. He could be hurt.

With that in mind, Oliver smiled reassuringly, holding one of his hands out placatingly as a gesture of goodwill before using that same hand to reach into the tub, his vision now obscured as he blindly grabbed around for the tiny boy. He had held mice before— he imagined it was the same.

His fingers closed around a squirming form and he couldn't help but wince as they did— it was a weird feeling, to hold something so small that was undoubtedly alive. Once he was sure he was holding the boy securely he lifted his hand out of the tub and let it sit upright again as he brought the squirming rescuee to his eye level.

He realised that he had carried some oats with him and saw that the raven haired boy was still struggling away, kicking and fighting and losing energy by the second. Oliver noticed that one of his legs wasn't kicking very well, but it wasn't bleeding. He opened his mouth to ask, only for the words to catch in his throat again.

He knew he could speak, but he didn't like it. Whenever he did speak it was forced and he hated the way his voice made his head and ears feel. His aunt and uncle had promised him that he didn't need to force himself to speak and were teaching him British Sign Language…but he highly doubted this random boy knew it.

None of the kids at school did. None of the teachers. They all got frustrated with him and now Oliver made sure to keep to himself, as much as he wanted to raise his hand more.

Oliver lowered his hand slightly, offering another reassuring smile that was half a grimace at the same time. He waved slowly with his free hand, trying to get the boy to stop panicking so he could attempt communication.

As his other hand raised he caught how the tiny boy's gaze immediately focused on it, going stiff and staring up at him like he was a monster. Oliver didn't let that phase him; so long as he was able to communicate his intentions, he was sure they would calm down.

He kept a gentle smile on his face, moving slowly once he noticed how easily startled they were by his movements. He mouthed his question alongside his gestures, pointing at their leg and then tilting his head as he mouthed ‘is your leg hurt'?

They continued to stare owlishly up at him, trembling. Oliver's smile faltered slightly, concern in his eyes as he repeated the movements and mouthed his question again more emphatically.

“W-why aren't you talking..?”

The tiny boy's voice definitely held fear, but it was also slightly accusatory. Oliver was used to that second part— where people thought he was weird or creepy for not speaking. He was so used to it by now that it wasn't really upsetting, though it was hard to explain without words.

Oliver shrugged and mouthed ‘I don't like talking’. The boy squinted up at him, seemingly trying to figure out what he was trying to communicate.

“You…don't like talking? O-okay…” Oliver was surprised they didn't laugh or call him weird or just ignore him as many others did. That made him smile again as he repeated his previous gestures, still trying to ask about their leg.

“O-oh…my leg..? It's fine..! So…so you can just put me down and I'll go home, yeah?” Oliver heard the hint of uncertainty in their voice and he couldn't help but frown at the thought that they didn't think he would do that in the first place. He quickly realised that his frown could be taken the wrong way though and opted for a more neutral expression.

He lowered his hand again, this time so that it was flat against the counter, nodding his head in one direction as if he was shooing the boy off of his hand with his head alone. ‘Go on. I won't keep you’. He offered another smile for good measure.

The boy didn't move for a few moments, looking around at his fingers warily as if they would snap closed on him like a bear trap. Oliver simply held still, patiently waiting, despite his many questions.

Slowly they began to scoot towards the edge of his palm, and Oliver tried his best not to react to the ticklish sensation. He watched as they fully climbed off his hand and stood up before meeting his gaze again with trepidation.

“You…you're actually letting me go..?”

Oliver nodded, smiling again as he slowly moved his hand away and turned it back over so the palm was facing downwards. He placed his free hand over his heart to indicate sincerity.

They seemed to hesitate still, but took a cautious step back. As they put weight onto one of their ankles though they let out a hiss of pain, losing their balance as they suddenly pulled their weight off of that leg. Instinctively, Oliver's hand reached towards them, cupping as he caught them, looking down at them with concern.

‘You are hurt…’ He mouthed, although it was unreadable due to the way he was practically mumbling. Regardless, the boy wasn't looking at his mouth, instead they had wide eyes and were swivelling their head around to focus on Oliver's hand. He frowned worriedly, not wanting to scare them more than they clearly already were, but also not wanting to ignore someone who was injured.

He raised his other hand from the counter again and held out his palm, splaying his fingers out in a placating gesture and biting his lip when the boy flinched away from his hand’s shadow. He repeated the gesture again, trying to show that he meant no harm. All the while, his left hand remained cupped behind them, although it wasn't caging them in.

It took about five or six times of Oliver calmly repeating the same motion for the boy to calm down and notice that his fingers weren't closing in, and his right hand wasn't moving any closer. They looked up at Oliver, looking so small and vulnerable from this vantage point… I just want to help.

‘Your leg…’ He slowly pointed to the tiny leg again, then pointed towards himself, his hand instinctively flattening to sign help, only to remember his leading hand was currently cupped behind the boy. He rested his hand on the counter again instead.

‘I can help you.’ He mouthed. When the boy didn't seem to read his lips, Oliver simply repeated the most important word. ‘Help. I can help.’

There was a hint of understanding in the boy's gaze, but he was still clearly very frightened. Oliver tried to imagine seeing the world from his perspective, but it was hard to imagine…regardless, he thought he would be more curious when coming face to face with a giant unless he had reason to believe they meant him harm.

His green gaze danced around the counter in search of something else he could offer as a sign of good will. His gaze landed on the macaroni and cheese his aunt had left— and although it wasn't super hot anymore he could warm it up. Most of it was untouched after all, and he found the boy in the oats, so he was probably looking for food or something similar.

‘Wait.’ He held his hand out again, slowly moving his hand from behind the boy so that he was no longer supporting his weight. He then picked up his aunt's plate and walked to the microwave, covering it with a lid and putting it in for thirty seconds. He watched the timer go down, intending to stop it just before it would start beeping.

At one second he opened it, turning off the timer and pulling out the plate before carrying it back over to where he had left the boy. He was pleasantly surprised to see that they were still there, watching him with wariness…but also a hint of curiosity as Oliver set the plate down nearby.

Sliding it in the boy's direction he smiled, gesturing towards the plate.

“For…for me?” They asked, shocked by the offering of food. Oliver nodded. He watched as they limped closer to the plate and very nearly toppled over whilst climbing onto it. They crawled closer then sniffed at the food, before finally taking a piece of the warm macaroni into their hands.

Oliver winced at the mess but made no moves to stop the tiny boy, simply leaning on his hand as he watched the display.

They ate ravenously, making it clear how hungry they were as they only paused to announce how good it tasted; expressing shock over the fact that the food was warm. Eventually the boy grew full and he looked up at Oliver again, cheese covering his hands and face. Oliver couldn't help but let out a breathy chuckle, hushed and soft but no less amused.

The boy frowned up at him, little eyebrows contorted in frustration.

“H-hey! Nothing funny to see here..!” He protested. Oliver covered his mouth with his hand to stifle the laughter, cutting it off with a small cough as he was worried he might actually upset the tiny boy. That would be bad…he was trying to help him after all.

They continued to stare up at him, looking him up and down with a scrutinising chocolate brown gaze, seemingly debating something internally. Oliver was silent as usual, removing his hand that was covering his mouth and making his expression neutral again— though he couldn't hide the curious spark in his eyes.

“My name is James…” The boy murmured, but Oliver heard it.

He perked up, his hands already moving to spell his own name, mouthing ‘Oliver’ alongside it. His aunt and uncle just used the sign of an acorn as a nickname for him, but he didn't really introduce himself like that.

“Oliver…yeah I know.” James responded as if it was obvious, but Oliver tilted his head questioningly nonetheless.

‘You did?’

James hadn't read his lips but seemed to understand that he had let something slip he shouldn't have as he began to backtrack immediately, fear visible in his expression.

“I-I mean…it's not— I-I'm sorry…” He was back to trembling, shoulders hunched and posture stiff. Oliver's expression saddened and he leaned down slightly so he was more at eye level, offering a small reassuring smile and shaking his head lightly, hands gesturing alongside his lips moving.

‘It’s okay. It's okay. I'm not angry.’ He shook his head again to emphasise that fact. ‘You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I'll ask something else… like…’ He thought for a few moments before levelling with James again. ‘How old are you?’

There were a few beats of silence as the tiny boy continued to stay silent, but Oliver remained patient. Eventually he spoke up, albeit shakily.

“I-I'm um…I'm thirteen.” He answered, averting eye contact every now and then. Oliver knew that he was prone to staring or giving way too much eye contact so he looked away again for a moment, only looking back when he responded back.

‘I’m ten.’ He held up his hands, palms facing himself and fingers close together with his thumbs sticking out, before turning them around and splaying his fingers out. People usually understood the second gesture much more when Oliver tried to sign numbers.

“Ten?” The tiny boy clarified, and he nodded in turn. That seemed to make James perk up a bit himself, as if age was a matter of pride. “So…I-I'm older than you? You're just…so big. It’s weird…”

It's weird. Not I'm weird.

Oliver smiled.

‘I am big.’ He agreed, his hands continuing to sign as much as he knew his constant hand movements probably only confused James. Wanting to focus on more important matters again, Oliver pointed towards his leg. ‘Can I help fix your leg? It's hurt.’

“Oh, right… u-um… nothing is broken, I think I just landed weird. The pain is starting to go away a bit… But I can't stay out here— my dad’ll kill me if he catches me talking to you..!” He exclaimed, glancing around as if his dad might pop up from anywhere. Oliver couldn't help but glance around too, worry etching across his features.

‘Your dad would really do that? Is he mean to you?’ He signed quickly, his mind instantly flashing back to the many threats he had heard when he was younger from his own parents. Mostly his mother, but his father never stopped her.

James didn't seem able to read his lips that time thanks to how sporadic it was, but he could tell that Oliver was worried.

“N-not actually! I just…I'm exaggerating. He.. he will be worried about me, is all. He and my mum…” He corrected, confusion in his gaze as he looked up at him. Oliver let out a small sigh of relief and relaxed, calming down little by little.

An exaggeration. Right.

He nodded to show he understood, although he couldn't help the jittery feelings that remained buzzing under the surface, his hands withdrawing closer to his chest as he looked down at the tiny boy. ‘Okay… Do you want to clean yourself before you go, then?’

He reached over the counter and picked up a napkin before offering it forwards for James to use. The boy's face lit up in realisation and he glanced down at his cheese covered hands sheepishly before nodding and reaching out to take a corner.

“Thanks…” He spoke out as he wiped off his hands. He let go of the napkin and gave Oliver a confused look when he didn't withdraw. Letting out an amused exhale from his nose Oliver pointed at James then gestured to his face.

‘Your face is messy too.’

The boy's face went red with embarrassment and he took a clean part of the napkin to wipe the cheese from his face too. Once finished he let go again and held out his hands as if to say ta da, then shakily pushed himself to a stand.

At first it seemed like he might fall again, and Oliver's fingers twitched in anticipation…but it seemed the boy had been telling the truth that the injury was nothing serious and the pain was fading, as he was able to put more weight on it than before. Satisfied, he put the napkin in the bin before looking down at James again.

‘It was nice to meet you, James.’ He smiled, waving down at them. He waved back up at him, climbing off of the plate and walking backwards towards the…wall..? Oliver watched with confusion and interest, then awe as the tiny boy opened a hidden doorway into the wall. His eyes sparkled with wonder, although he only watched.

“I-it was nice to meet you too, surprisingly. Thanks again for not um..for not killing me.” The secret door then closed and left Oliver alone in the kitchen once more. He tilted his head, brows furrowing.

What an odd thing to say… Oh well. I hope his parents don't get angry at him because of me.

With that in mind, he stood up straight again and turned the tap back on to resume his washing up, playing the interaction in his head over and over again.

I hope we can be friends.

[gotta-winwin]

2019 debut year <> what is his problem?

word count: 2.1k TW: a bucket of snark, cold wonwoo, mentions of bullying, swearing italics are in english, bolded words are in mandarin

౨ৎ ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ

"Mingyu!" Cyana yelled from across the living room, her leg propped up as she sat icing her swollen ankle.

The boy in question slid into view, stumbling a little for balance as he grappled with the slippery wooden floors. "Yes, princess?"

Cyana made a little face at the nickname. "Can you charge my phone for me please? I left it in the kitchen and I can't stand up." She pouted at the mention of her rolled ankle. "And I thought I told you not to call me that."

Mingyu let out a deep sigh. "It's fitting though, don't you think? You are seventeen's princess." He poked her ankle gently. "Look at me, waiting on you hand and foot."

She sent him a glare. "You're the reason I'm like this." She let her upper half crumple dramatically onto the couch.

Mingyu had came rushing into practice this afternoon, colliding into an unaware Cyana, who had just been trying to leave the room for water. Everyone had chalked it up to the fact that Mingyu only ever looked parallel to his height, and could not see Cyana below him.

"I've already apologized." He whined, leaving to grab her phone. "You're even sleeping over so I can take care of you. Seungcheol said it was my punishment. You know only special people can ever enter the Minwon residence."

She scoffed. She noticed she was unnaturally riled up today, annoyed by the pain and inconvenience of not being able to walk. "Special, my ass."

"Hey." Mingyu stared at her from the doorway, having been on his way to grab a charger for her phone. He sent her a frown. "I understood that."

Cyana stuck out her tongue in retaliation, smiling to herself when it got a loud laugh from Mingyu. She watched him walk out of view, probably to his room to grab his charger.

They really had started to feel a little like family, Cyana realized as she sat there, with nothing to do but to ponder. She wouldn't have ever expected to be enjoying small moments like this, despite her ankle still throbbing. She also wouldn't have ever thought this job would be anymore than purely working. She never imagined she'd make friends, let alone call 13 boys her family. Well, 11 boys, she correctly ruefully. Woozi had been refusing to speak to her since the Hug BPM incident, although Cyana noticed he had changed it to be 138. Wonwoo was another one who seemed to be doing everything under the sun to avoid her, despite them literally being under the same roof right now. He had helped Mingyu move her from the car to their couch, gave her a look over and retreated to his room.

She let out a huff. She'd been here for nearly two months now, and comeback season would begin in less than two weeks. Wonwoo or Woozi (preferably both) would have to get their shit together sooner or later, before fans began to notice and shit started getting stirred.

Mingyu knocked twice on Wonwoo's door before entering. The last time he had walked in unannounced, a controller had been sent flying his way.

"Wonwoo hyung~" He called, reaching over to move Wonwoo's headset slightly off his ear. "Can I borrow your charger?"

Wonwoo frowned, blinking at Mingyu, his eyes adjusting from the bright screen back to reality. "Why?" Mingyu's phone wasn't adaptable to his charger head.

Mingyu waved the lilac phone in his hand. "Cyana's phone."

"She's got you charging her phone for her now?" Wonwoo muttered, getting up to grab it from the floor next to his bed. "Puppy."

"Hey!" Mingyu protested indignantly. "Her ankle's injured. I'm just helping. Like you should be doing."

Wonwoo frowned. "Why would I?"

"She's family."

Wonwoo scoffed. "She's not family. Family is the people who were there with us in that fucking lime green room."

Mingyu cut his eyes at the older boy, disappointed. "Cyana's a good person. You'd know if you'd just give her a chance."

"She's a ticking time bomb, Gyu. You need to realize that." Wonwoo's shoulders sagged as he sighed, handing over his charger. "She's going to blow up our comeback either way."

"You've been talking too much with Woozi hyung." Mingyu decided. "One skeptic's enough in this group."

"She's got 11 cheerleaders and knights-in-waiting already." Wonwoo quickly countered, sitting back down and putting his headphones back on, clicking open a new game. "I just don't think we'd get along."

Mingyu rolled his eyes. "She's literally you, Wonwoo. Down the a T." He groaned when the older boy gave no reaction, the headphones blocking his words. "Aish-" He slapped the back of Wonwoo's head gently. "Idiot."

Returning back to the living room, he plugged the charger in the outlet next to Cyana and handed her her phone. "You better thank Wonwoo later, it's his charger."

Cyana groaned. "Why~ Couldn't you have just grabbed yours?"

"My charger doesn't fit your phone, nana." Mingyu frowned. "Did something happen between you and Wonwoo hyung or what?"

"What do you mean?"

Mingyu took a seat next to her, hands reaching over to bring her injured foot into his lap, massaging her ankle. "Just mean that there has to be a reason you hate each other, that's all."

"I don't hate him, Gyu." Cyana sighed. "I just don't like being where I'm clearly not wanted."

"I'll talk to him."

Cyana shook her head. "No, no. Don't make it worse. It's okay, Gyu." She patted his arm. "Wonwoo not liking me isn't going to destroy me. As long as he hides it well during recordings, we're fine."

"He's my best friend though~" Mingyu whined. "I want my two best friends to get along well."

Cyana let out a shaky laugh, hit by a sudden jolt of pain when Mingyu pressed on a particular spot. "Sadly we don't always get what we want." She squeezed his shoulder. "Really, though. It's okay. I still have more friends than I ever had before."

He frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged. "I didn't really have friends growing up, is all. I was busy."

Mingyu looked at her sadly. "That's not good. Childhood friends are the best. You didn't make any at school?"

Cyana thought for a little bit, reaching over to move Mingyu's fingers to a certain spot where she felt like the pain was the most. "I had some friends in Vancouver, but once we moved to LA, everyone kind of already had friends. So it was awkward to join them."

"Oh." Mingyu couldn't wrap his head around the idea that Cyana didn't have friends in LA. She was so comforting and funny and pretty and good.

"They were all mean anyways." Cyana shrugged off the heaviness that the memories had brought her. "Not very friend-material."

Mingyu nodded. "I guess." He was still sad though, imagining lonely baby Cyana in the middle of a busy and large LA.

Sensing his sadness for her, Cyana offered him a bright smile. "I have you now. And Shua. And Kyeomie, and Boo, and Chan, and Vernon." She began counting them with her fingers, earning a smile from Mingyu. "And Hannie, and Hoshi, and Jun, and Haohao, and Seungcheol." She paused. "Well, kind of Seungcheol. I don't know if we're there yet." Looking up at Mingyu, she smiled. "But still! That's a lot of friends."

"I'm glad." Mingyu could only say, although his eyes said a whole lot more. I'm glad you have us. I'm glad you see us as your friends. I'm glad you're our friend. My friend. Cyana's grateful smile told him she understood.

The next morning, Cyana woke up in a stranger's bed. She sat up, frowning when she didn't recognize the bedroom she was in. Mingyu's bedroom did not have pretty LED lights coming from the ceiling, and last time she checked, he didn't own a gaming station.

"Get up."

Her eyes widened at the sound of Wonwoo's voice. She turned her head to look at him, leaning on the doorframe of the connected bathroom.

"What?" She mumbled, still deciding whether or not it was all a dream. It had to be, for on what planet would she wake up in Wonwoo's bed?

"I said get up." Wonwoo sighed, pushing himself off the doorframe to grab his coat from the foot of the bed. Sensing her confusion, he bit back a tiny smile. "You and Mingyu both fell asleep on the couch last night. I brought Mingyu back to his bed but found you couldn't fit comfortably next to him so I brought you here." He threw his coat on, grabbing his keys and phone as well. "I slept outside on the couch, don't worry."

Cyana's face flushed. It didn't go past her that this was the most words Wonwoo had ever spoken to her. "Sorry." She moved to get up. A large hand stopped her, grabbing her shoulder.

"Sorry." Wonwoo mumbled, releasing her. "Your ankle."

"Oh." Her face flushed again. "I think it should be fine. Mingyu's pretty good at physical therapy."

Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, Cyana stood up, gingerly placing weight on her bad ankle. Wonwoo stood a couple steps away from her, ready if something were to go wrong.

"It's fine." Cyana gave him a tentative smile. "Thanks. You could've just left me on the couch." She had definitely expected him to.

"Maybe I should've." Wonwoo muttered. "Hip Hop unit's got practice early today. Breakfast's on the table. Don't call. Don't burn the house down. And don't touch my things." He left the room without another word. Cyana heard Mingyu's voice from the distance and could hear the front door shutting behind them.

She blinked, frozen. She didn't know whether to cry or celebrate that Wonwoo had finally acknowledged her presence. His actions and words confused her greatly. It was i put you in my bed and slept outside so you can sleep well and then shout loudly to wake you up followed by a got you breakfast ending with a i don't trust you in my house.

She sighed, shaking her head. Boys.

Although her stomach grumbled, she opted to skip breakfast. Her stylists had complained that she wasn't fitting the skirt they'd made for their stage performances, despite it being not her size at all. She supposed it meant she still had a long way to go before she would look good onstage next to the members.

Looking around the room, she was able to properly see Wonwoo's place for the first time. It was clean, she expected nothing less from him. Everything about him screamed clean.

The computer hummed with life despite it being off and it was surrounded by photographs and equipment. She smiled when she spotted a photograph of what looked to be young seventeen, huddled together in the midst of their trainee years. There was also a few photos of a dog, who she assumed was Wonwoo's back home. There were books as well, overfilling the shelves that lined the far wall. That was something Cyana could relate to, although these titles were all in Korean instead of English. She found that she missed having books to read. It was hard to find anything good in Korea that she could understand.

She could've spent eternity in Wonwoo's room just looking at things, trying to decipher a person she desperately wanted to know. Her phone rang however, startling her.

"Hello?" It was their manager.

"Oh. Manager oppa. What's going on?" Cyana frowned. The manager rarely called them, schedules and changes were usually relayed through text.

"We have a couple company higher-ups who want to see your improvement before the comeback, Soyeon-ssi. I'm sorry to spring it on you now, but they'll be at Pledis soon. Could you come over quickly?"

Her blood rang cold. "Oh, uh- yes. I'm at Mingyu's right now. I'll be there in 10 minutes."

"Great. No need to panic, Soyeon. They just want to know if you're ready."

That was the thing though. Cyana didn't think she was ready. Sure, she'd been practicing with the others, learning techniques she hadn't learnt in LA, but she still wasn't as polished as the others. She couldn't quite grasp the concept of levels and angles, although she tried her hardest knowing it was essential to Seventeen's famed synchronization.

Rushing out of Wonwoo's room, she threw on the first hoodie she found in Mingyu's room before rushing to leave, locking the door behind her. Waving down a taxi, she sent prayers to all the gods she did not believe in that she'd pass whatever test they were giving her. She wanted to debut. She needed to. She wasn't about to let herself be sent back to LA. Not when she had family here.

author's note: ahhh! thank you so much for reading! things are about to get intense (,,>﹏<,,)

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

Megumi felt his face darken hearing this. How the hell does this guy live even after all this? It was sick and wrong. However, he was worried about his plan to use her to get others here.

"....." She didn't move seeing him finally let her chin go, moving away as she tries struggling again to get free but the damn chains were tight around her wrists. After the two times he used rope, he used chains to stop her from getting out.

"Anyway...the body does provide a good substance for a soul. All I need to do is to use the remains of the soul, remnant and put it into an animatronic under my control. I never thought I had this kind of power before" Metal Zilla shrugs his arms as he picks up a pizza cutter from the table. "This place is great! The kids are a pain in the ass since I started working here." The man is wearing a long light brown trenchcoat with a hoodie, he has long sleeves. Daichi can't see his face thanks to the mask he's wearing. But his voice is so full of himself.

"......"

"But they do make great resources! Easy to take and easy to corrupt! But now I feel like I need to move on to the adults! But it's hard to get some but one. The good thing is...I'm going to use that shitty security guard! Zilla is good for something besides singing."

"*Muffled grunting while struggling again* Mfffmmm!!!"

"Anyway...I gotta get back to work!" He said. "I still have about 5 more bodies to work on before getting their souls out. But who knows? If you behave I Might let you out...just kidding! You are going to be good and lure your so called friends here. I'm sure you'll be happy to see them again." he smiled.

"So...what do you have to say about that?" he asked to look at her but Miko said nothing feeling him sigh. "Here, why don't you speak right and tell me?" he asked reaching to lower the gag as she gasps coughing.

"..Hmm?"

"I think your t..terrible! How could you! Your nothing but a creep and murderer to those poor kids! What did they even do to you!?" she shouted.

"EVERYTHING! THOSE BRATS DESERVED IT AND IF YOUR ANGRY ABOUT IT GET OVER IT!" he shouted. "I deserve to get what I want even if it means killing someone else!" he glares at her. "Even if it means torturing someone else.." he said showing the pizza cutter near her cheek. However, she looks quiet for him to sigh.

"You don't get it though..I'm doing this for a reason..now...I'm sure whoever sees this will be happy your safe....why not say something?" he asked but Miko looks up at the camera.

"Guys! If your seeing this; don't come down here! I'll be fine! Please, you don't want to come down here!" she said but he laughs finding her funny.

"Oh what a joke you are Miko-chan!" he snickered but as he leans in about to almost cut her cheek seeing the cutter cut her skin drawing blood. "Why not say more?" He teased.

However, she quickly knees him hard in the stomach hearing him groan henching over. She begins struggling more working on trying to get out before seeing Anaconda. He was trying to break the chains again.

"Anaconda!" she was looking to him hearing the other coughing before he growls getting mad. "!?...Anaconda, run! Get out of here and warn the others! Tell them not to come here!" she said seeing him not wanting to leave her.

"I'll be okay. Just go!" she said before she tires using her strength to break the chains only to see Anaconda rush out away as she sees the other growling to stand up.

"WHY YOU BITCH!" he shouted to hit Miko hard as she coughs wincing a bit. "Tch....I'll have to have them look for that thing. But in the meantime....*faces Miko angry*..since you wanna be a brat! I'll have to punish you again for it!" he said cutting her free but saw her trying to run only for him to pick her up over his shoulder.

"LET ME GO!! LET ME GO!!" she shouted kicking but he keeps carrying her away. "LET GOOOOO!!"

"Once I deal with you..it's back to work but lets work on that mouth of yours!" he shouted as she screams kicking before the door slams shut behind him leaving Miko's screams before they were fading away leaving silence.

The roars and the shouts are heard before it becomes silent as something is heard shut. A door. Muffled shouts are heard before laughter is heard, "With this, I can make a new animatronic! Thanks to those brats, I can collect enough agony to make more of these things! It's thanks to that stupid owner who wouldn't give up. Hell, they brought in some damn brats..." Said a figure. It sounded male.

Megumi didn't like that at all. What was he planning to do?! Make more of the animatoric but it sounds like he would make it more danger and disturbing where it might get even worse. He saw Miko struggling but she glares at him while still moving.

"Oh well...I just need to move and leave this dump. Not before bringing more brats in here!" He cackled. "I just need to use those dumb robots and a helper to bring them here."He said.

Someone came into view, he wore a grey Zilla mask, this one looked metal as it had yellow eyes. He looks at Miko, "Tell me...I wonder which of your friends will get here first. The girls, the boys, or that brother and sister! Who knows! It makes the game fun, doesn't it?"

"......" Miko still tries to struggle but he sighed to look at her.

"Now now, don't struggle. You'll hurt yourself like that. I can't let a fresh offering get ruined." he said only to hear more sickening crunch noises to see himself. Miko saw blood on him but also saw the animatronic show up but it was coated in blood along with holding a bloody axe.

Right away Miko's face pales a little. "Though, again, we just begun the game..I'm sure you'll have loads of fun..won't you? Besides, I still didn't forgive you for that kick earlier after you escaped twice. TWICE!" he shouted as he slams the axe above her head almost cutting her hands but missed.

"With your wrestling moves and all that punching and kicking. That hurt you know. BUT! I forgive you for it." he pouts to grip her chin forcing her to look at him.

"I mean after all....I had sooooooo fun making sure you didn't do it again." he said glaring at her but Miko kept looks at him seeing the bloody axe near by.

"So lets see if we can have more guests show up...but you'll be fine won't you.." he smiled petting Miko's head while she was still struggling hoping she can break free again.

"But lets see...maybe you can lead your friends here for me! You can be so helpful and I know I can get them trapped.." he giggled but Miko shook her head furiously not wanting that. He looks to her but he only glares seeing the mask up close that she stares into his glowing yellow eyes.

"Don't you fucking say no to me...you're lucky I didn't kill you.." he said as she was quiet. "Just because you got lucky, I'll be sure you don't...so unless you want me to cut that pretty little head of yours..behave." he warns.

[cash-legacy]

SOGUE MAGAZINE, WINTER 2024

The Blood of the Innocent: Judith Ward's Dirty Little Secret

(For the Occultify a Sim challenge in the Occult Simblr Discord)

Nobody will forget the feeling of seeing their childhood favorite movie star twenty years later. The nostalgia of seeing their face, the weird awareness of your own mortality as you take in the new wrinkles and lines. Did she have those kids when she filmed that movie? Were they really that young? I'm older than he was when he filmed that one show... But one Del Sol face has yet to bear the scars of time - the ever-iconic Judith Ward. In our interview, Ward told me exactly how she's stayed just so young and lovely: consensual Vampirism.

Want more? Read the rest of the article below the cut!

This announcement comes at a complicated time for Simerica, as anti-Occult sentiments have spread across the nation like wildfire, and public opinion has shifted away from their support. Vampires especially, known for their "inborn" violent tendencies towards ordinary Sims, face a great deal of discrimination in many regions. Some Sims view this as a safety measure, a means of keeping natural killers away from their families. Recent legislation has attempted to make this a national issue, as opposed to a region-specific one, as proposed by senators Victor Feng and Anne Thorne, of San Myshuno and Copperdale respectively. Others sympathize with the Occult cause. Feng and Thorne's bill failed to get the required majority, but it was close. Many Sims on both sides of the political spectrum felt that the vote should have swung one way or another, and celebrities across Simerica have taken to speaking their piece. Judith Ward's, however, may be the most personal - and impactful - of them all. We conducted our interview at Ward's Del Sol house:

WHY NOW? "Now is precisely the right time to speak up about these things. Sims across the nation are wondering what to believe, and who to trust. And they know they can trust me. If being open about what I am convinces even a single Sim to join the cause and protect my people, it will have been worth all the backlash I expect to face." YOU CALLED IT CONSENSUAL VAMPIRISM. EXPLAIN THAT? "It's true that untrained or under-educated Vampires can cause massive harm to populations, especially in small towns. But the solution to that problem isn't punishing them, or stripping them of their resources. We've seen what happens when you do that. It's why we've had this moment of tension in the first place. But when provided the resources needed to survive harmlessly, Vampires are no more dangerous than any other Sim." BUT... "CONSENSUAL?" "I keep a few Sims in my employ. Times are tough, and I pay handsomely. It's in cooperation with a private medical practice, they're thoroughly informed beforehand, and it's all quite sterile and ethical, don't you worry." TELL ME ABOUT YOUR EXPERIENCE WITH VAMPIRISM. "I admit, when I first signed up for it, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. It was frightening. The transformation can be quite painful, particularly in the first few days. I've had some issues with work, too. I have to film daylight scenes in short bursts, or on soundstages. I've lost more than a few roles because of it. But I've got it easy, all things considered. My heart really goes out to all those who don't have such flexibility in their careers."

It's hard to say for certain where Occult politics will lead. Polling is wildly polarized across and within regions, and extremism on both sides is rampant. More and more prominent social figures are taking stances, and Judith Ward certainly won't be the last. Only time will tell which way the political compass will turn. See you next time, LINCOLN BROADSHEET

CelebCrave: Sogue Journalist Fired After Political Tantrum!

"They wildly misrepresented me," complained former Sogue interviewer Lincoln Broadsheet, in a recent Social Bunny post. "I didn't approve the cover or the title... It's incredibly hurtful to see such a prominent magazine ignore my intentions as a writer like this... And they fired me over it. Writers like me get fired for trying to provide the truth, instead of writing for clicks." Read the full Social Bunny thread here: Lincoln Broadsheet @ LBWrites replying to @[...] They wildly misrepresented me and Judith. It was a huge lapse in judgment from Sogue, and their decision to fire me when I protested was irresponsible. 1/8 Lincoln Broadsheet @ LBWrites I didn't approve the cover or the title. My articles are always unbiased, especially when they're about such decisive subjects. It's incredibly hurtful to see such a prominent magazine ignore my intentions as a writer like this. 2/8 Lincoln Broadsheet @ LBWrites I couldn't sit by without speaking out, and they fired me over it. It hurts to see how many Sims don't care about misinformation and biased reporting. These issues are rampant, and writers like me get fired for trying to provide the truth, instead of writing for clicks. 3/8 [...]

[amebanworld]

So, here we are. Finally I’m dropping by to share something I’ve been pondering. I think it's about time to speak about this openly.

You know, I've been a TF fan since my childhood, since I saw G1 Cartoon till now.

But since I'm not a native English speaker and the TF TV series have been aired irregularly at my country, I just haven't be able to follow all series when they were broadcasted. I just wasn’t able to watch all of them. I'm not interested in every single series though, just in some of them. Same happens with comics and movies: seriously I like to think Bayverse just didn’t happen.

So I’ll will tackle the series/comic sI’ve watched/read only, and not every Screamer incarnation.

Let's start…

In 80's (and earlier) cartoons, it was quite common that one of the main characters was bashed by other characters under the premise that "this chara is problematic b/c he thinks different from the others, so he must be punished". As crazy as it sounds, this was encouraged by parents supervising children cartoons’ morality. That's why Eric (from the D&D cartoon) or Rudy (from Fat Albert) were made fun of, and that is what’s happening with G-1!Starscream. Yes, I mean the regular bashing he suffers by almost every other character in the series, and mostly from his leader, Megatron. Also, this was encouraged by the idea of "Hey! They're just aliens robots! We can be harsher with them since it isn’t an average cartoon for kids." And that's how it begun.

Since the G1 cartoon (and its comics counterpart, although the mood is quite different), Screamer has been portrayed as “selfish, a disloyal second-in-command, a coward yadda-yadda", but he also has been portrayed as somebody who endures punisment from almost every other character regularly, and mostly from Meggs, as I said before. This pattern repeats itsel over and over in all TF series, no matter the plot or the setting.

Despite being so popular, most of the fandom think that "he deserves it b/c he's a traitor", or just like it as a slapstick comedy. However, over time, and since certain series and comics have more serious plots, this issue was interpreted under a different perspective by older audiences.

Starscream, no matter the continuity, suffers from PTSD and is victim of abuse.

And I fully agree with that.

Over the years, I've met many fans (female fans mostly, perhaps b/c they usually have this kind of sensibility) who loved the character and felt bad for him because they identified with him on a personal level. I've met veterans too who indentified with Screamer. Both of them just felt really uneasy about how he’s treated in comics and especially in the series. Of course, there’re many fans that just think this is nonsense and don't agree with it. However, invalidating the opinion of these other fans and brush it aside as "nonsense" means to ignore the victims of abuse and their suffering too.

So, what do I mean with "victim of (domestic) abuse"?

First of all, it doens't mean just abuse from your romantic partner, but also from your parents or relatives, from your boss, your classmates, etc. The thing is, all that applies to Screamer. Unlike other characters that just attack him during battles and such, Screamer is punched many times till almost dying by Megatron. He’s also insulted and invalidated. There’s some examples of different continuities below.

The dynamic of abusive relationships is very complex, but in all continuities we can find the same pattern: "The victim tries to flee and does something careless, then he's caught and punished by his insolence". The problem is that the victim is also a traitor and a liar, and certainly he's not a saint. Plus the abuser keeps him around still.

Why?

Summing up, it's a vicious circle. The victim thinks he "deserves" to be punished, but since he wants to be free, he behaves carelessly and paying no heed to loyalty so as to “deserve” that punishment. Meanwhile, the abuser seeks to blame (and punish) the victim from his own faults. Then, when one makes a move, the other behaves accordingly. Meanwhile there’s also calm moments where things “seems” fine. That's why Meggs and Screamer seems to get along "nicely" when nothing happens.

Eventually, the victim copies the abusive behaviour, becoming also an abuser. This is quite obvious in the TFP continuity, where Screamer does the same things to KnockOut.

Of course, the abuser is guilty, but the victim has his own faults. Usually, these people suffer from PTSD and develop a nasty behaviour towards others. They become selfish, demanding, disloyal, etc. This explains why Screamer behaves as such with almost everyone in all continuities. Usually, the victim isn’t aware (or just doesn't want to ) that he's into an abusive relationship (no matter what kind), so he’s just seen as being disloyal, stupid or something like that. Usually, only people who have suffered abuse, or are close to an abuse victim, are aware of this problem, and of how hard it is to break the vicious circle and break free.

Many fans were aware of this problem, and some years ago a bunch of them decided to let know their feelings about SS to Hasbro, so they send the company a long letter, thanks to @tyrantofthefirmament You can read their letter HERE.

And how did Hasbro answered?

I guess they get a lot of letters from the fandom, and that their marketing team will be well aware about the fandom opinions at least now, b/c it's kind of obvious that the later comics and series portrays ideas that were born in the fandom. Anyway their answer to that letter sounded like "We're glad to heard from you. We'll think about it someday. Thanks!"

And that’s whay they did on the later series, it seems.

Let's check it…

*TFP: SS is written so randomly here. First, he's a serious threat; in the second season, he breaks free and joins the Abots or is just on his own (the best part), and finally, in the third season, he joins Dcons again, and Meggs punches him for any random reason. Finally, he dies.

*Armada Trilogy: he's written as a tragic character. He ends up being a hero and dies saving the day on the first season. Later on, he's resurrected as a zombie with no memories. Finally, in the 3rd season, he becomes… what the heck?? He doesn’t seems to be the same character!

*War for Cybertron Trilogy. Well. Here, he's closer to his G1 Incarnation, despite he wasn't a scientist and he was under Jetfire's command till the white jet joins the Abots. The same tropes are repeated, till Blacharacnnia teams up with him and he meets Unicron in a Lovecraft- like scene. Afterwards, the writers got wild and gave him the arc to be an anti-hero, warning everybody, who actually barely believe in him. At least, the writers tried here to give certain credit.

Starry meets Cthulhu... eeer, Unicron.

*IDW comics. Perhaps the most developed incarnation. Here, the problems of abuse and trauma, along his faults in the GreatWar, become an issue that must be solved. He becomes a Cybertron ruler, makes a friend (Metalhawk) then kills him… and later, he regrets it a lot. Bumblebee appears to him as an hallucination and befriends him (his only friend is imaginary). WheelJack has a soft spot for him, but this isn’t enough. Then, Windblae appears, who is oblivius of the Cybertronian war. And well, things happen and he isn't disloyal anymore and learns about his true self. Perhaps this is the only series where his fate is different.

Bee facing Screamer in his own hallucinations...

*EarthSpark. These series tries to mix up G1 with IDW. War is over, the Earthling TF are born and Screamer is jailed in a corrupted human facility, till he manages to break free. At this point, an Earthligh TF, Haghstag, knows about his trauma and helps him. The whole first season deals with Dcons as people with his own lifestory and traumas, and how important redeption is. Starscream fits this plot…

Haghstag and Screamer... and he's smiling.

Till the following seaons where the writers just ignore everything and they come back to the same old plots again and again in a very creepy way.

The thing is, Starscream nor talks about this with others, neither uses it as an excuse for his behaviour towards his companions. That goes against the Decepticons ideals, but also that would make him to look "weak", or he just doesn't want to admit it despite his pain. Dcon's are usuallly portrayed as horrible people, after all.

Anyway, the fact is Hasbro and their writers just don’t dare to tackle a character arc to give him some reliable background or credit. They show some hints here and there of "perhaps he's victim of abuse/he suffers PTSD", and later, they brush him off. This is kind of obvious for every continuity discussed here.

So why? I just don't get it. And that's why I find this is a problem. I just don't want to see the same old story again and again, with a character that is basically a punching bag on one hand and a baddie on the other. (Skybound comics aren't included here since it's an ongoing series by now). If the writers dared to write a redenmption arc for Megatron. Why not for Starscream?

(Special thanks to @sandalwood03, who edited my broken English into something nicer).

[vulpixisananimal]

<Null> {Mal Du Pays} (Siffrin) [Loop] [(???)]

[(Darkest of night. No moon in sight and stars that hide. The curtains were closed. They were closed, they really were closed. Actors milling about back stage, yet here you are, in the dusty forgotten corridors.)]

[(You woke up and couldn't sleep. Didn't want to. Finally, no annoying voices, just, you. Siffrin. Only Siffrin. Nothing more, nothing less. You stood there in the night for a minute, feeling the winds and the biting chill of the seasons turn to winter.)]

[(You walk to The Kids cooking supplies. You crouch down, and start rummaging.)]

[(You take a piece of carrot, and bite. Crunchy, different, tastes okay. You bite into an onion. Tasty, burns, good. Bread, boring, bleh. Garlic, oh that's a fun taste, strong, VERY strong.)]

[(Spices, too. You taste the cinnamon, thyme, ginger, good and textured, flavored, you cough a few time. Next is some drops of vanilla, peppermint-)]

"What're you doing?" [(You turn around. The Kid is there, it looks like having just woken up.)]

". . . Testing for poison!" [(You lie. What, would you say the truth? The truth that you hadn't gotten to taste something like this, REALLY taste something like this, for a long, long time? No. So you lie.)]

[(The Kid squints at you.)] ". . . Who're you?"

"I'm, Siffrin?" [(You reply.)]

"Nuh uh." [(They cross their arms.)] "'Frins weird but not THAT weird."

"But that's my name!" [(Keep your voice down.)] "Regular old helpful Siffrin, just, helping out?"

"Don't lie to me!" [(The Kid's trying to be quiet.)] "I know you're 'Frin 'cause you're ALL 'Frin but you're not the 'Frin I know!"

"Then just. Call. Me. Siffrin!" [(You're smiling.)] "Why don't you back to bed? Big day tomorrow, kiddo."

"Nuh." [(Big pout.)] "You gotta sleep too, not'frin. AND I still dunno who you are!"

"I said I'm-"

"I KNOW!!" [(The Kid barely contained their shout, then paused, then continued.)] ". . . Lulu's 'Frin, Null's 'Frin, 'Ays is 'Frin, you're 'Frin. Sif'frin got that name 'cause they're around a lot. You're 'Frin but you're also, uhm. . ."

[(You stare at them, still smiling. Then to the pack. You grab a bottle.)] "What's this?"

"Huh? Oh, saffron. 's Spice." [(The Kid shrugs, distracted.)]

[(You pause, then take some out and eat it. . . Tasty, floral, earthy, good.)]

". . . You're a weirdfrin." [(The Kid walked closer.)] "Weirdy weirdo weirdfrin."

"Yup! That's me! Weirdy weirdfrin Siffrin!" [(You turn and smile, holding the bottle up.)] "Saffron?"

"Uh huh."

"Do I really need a nickname if I'm Siffrin?"

"Uh HUH!" [(The Kid said insistently.)] "Same body or not you'd need a nickname!"

". . ." [(You hate it. So confident, mean, cooking good, kind now? The Kid was talking to you, talking to you. . . Normally? Fine. You put the cooking things back.)] "Saffron then. I liked it."

"Ok Saffron!" [(Well and just like that, you two were best buddies again. They helped put the mess away, but handed you the onion.)]

". . . . Onion?"

"You took a bite, dummy, eat it."

". . . Oh, right."

[(You take a few more bites of the onion, eye watering, it's, too much. You put it down.)]

"Heh, stupidfrin." [(The Kid looked so smug right now.)] "Punishment onion."

"Punishment onion." [(You agree solemnly, still smiling. You stand up.)] "I'm sleeping. Good night."

"Uh. . . Night." [(You turned away from The Kid. It all felt so alien, even still. . .)]

[(. . . You may never get used to this.)]

>>>

|You bolt upright. It's the middle of the night, you're, you're in a room, an inn room? Are you traveling? You are traveling, aren't you. You remember a lot of, walking. And before, fighting, no, and, before-|

|Red|

|The blanket feels heavy and inviting, and a second body lying in the bed was warm and soft, but, you had to get up. You stand, wobbly, your body feels wrong, very wrong, and small. Your vision is wonky, just, step by step. You walk to a little side of the room, mirror, mirror, mirror, you need, a mirror- there!|

|You can barely see yourself in this light. You, candle, or, crafted lamp, or- you find a small crafted light. With a spark you turn it on, a soft glow in the corner of a room and, and you look, in the mirror. . .|

|. . . . .|

|. . . . . That's not your face.|

|Your're, young. You look soft. You have messy darkless hair with dyed ends. You have one eye, and had scars down the neck. Your arms were short, you were short. You were breathing faster, you, you, this, you, you KNEW this body.|

|You're crying, no, nononono why, what's going on, why are, you, you remember, do you remember? No you do! Because, because it's, this body, it belongs to-|

"Siffrin?" |A soft, concerning voice came from accros the room. You whip around to see that other person, no, Isabeau. Isabeau was looking at you. You couldn't hide your emotions.|

". . . ." |You, couldn't speak. What, what do you do?!? Why are you here?!? You're and in their body, THEIR body, that body, person, someone, you, ruined the life of. Destroyed. Crushed. A-and, and-|

"H-heyyy it's okay, it's okay." |He was talking so softly. Like, like he cared about you?| "Are you new?"

". . . N-new?" |You finally say, your voice feels wrong.|

". . Haaaave you walked around? Like, this? Before?"

|'Like this' does he mean in a different persons body? Or outside of the house? Of frozen time? Just, answer.| "I. . . I don't think so?"

"Okay!" |He smiles at you.| "Don't, uh, freak out? So uh, youuuu're kind of sharing a body with a few people- oh crab are you okay?"

|Huh? Are you- oh. You touch your cheek, you're crying.| "I. . . I'm sorry, I don't know why. . ."

"It's okay, this stuff's confusing, haha. . ." |He looks away, he's worried.| ". . . O-oh! Sif keeps a journal, I think there's some stuff in there about, all this?"

"O-okay. . ." |You walk back over to your side of the bed with the lamp. There's a pack, yours? You think? After a bit of looking, you find a book you think is right, and open it.|

|. The inside cover has a couple pictures pressed into it. The first is a childs drawing of five figures, the one in the middle has an arrow with the word "You!" pointing to it. The second one is a smaller one with another figure on it. The first page had a big, bold, "DON'T PANIC!!!" at the top. Too late, but you read on, and, Universe willing, you would feel better after.|

|"If you're reading this, you're probably confused on what's going on." The handwriting was neat and deliberate, if this was to be a message to you, well, it was well crafted. "I'll try and explain things nice and quick, but you'll get the idea soon enough."|

|"You're sharing a body with me (Siffrin) and four other people at time of writing. Don't ask why, the brain just, kinda does this sometimes? I dunno." Ah yes, this was making you very confident. "This book we've been using to try and remember things, and note down who else we're sharing a body with."|

|"You see those pictures? That's our family! We're traveling with them all now, and they all know about our whole "body thing", so feel free to talk to them." Ah, that makes sense. The big, tough looking one must be Isabeau?|

|As if on cue, you turn to see him offer you a glass of water. You take it, smiling. He smiles back.|

|Back to the book. "There's some papers on this stuff in our bag if you want specifics, and at the back of the book we've been writing down who's in our little "system." So feel free to add yourself! It'll save everyone a headache." Can't you just, dissapear for a bit instead? "Lastly, we've also been writing down events daily starting on the next page. Leave a note on the latest entry when you read this. K?"|

|"We're all in this together, okay? Welcome to the club. - Siffrin."|

|. . . . You wanted to throw up.|

|You wanted to scream and cry and run away and dive into the ocean. You wanted to punch something. You wanted to see something break. You wanted to see the stars, you, you, you didn't want this. Right? N-no you, you don't deserve to be here. You SHOULDN'T be here. You felt, strange, like, you're not, who you think you are. . .|

|You remember yourself. You remember fighting yourself. You remember, pain, suffering, tears- Oh stars you can't think about that. You got a headache, and were crying more. You drink some of the water, calm, down. You just need water, and to breathe. Breathe in, hold for 1..2..3.........9..10.. And out. . . .|

"You okay?" |You hadn't noticed, but Isabeau had moved next to you.|

|You nod.| "I am. . . Okay. Just, okay."

"Well, uh, I'm here to help, okay?"

|You nod again, then back to the journal. You flip to the back of the book. At the top of the back page was one big title with stylised stars around it.|

|"CONSTELLATION"|

|. . . Oh, a collection of stars. It is what you all were. So, that's the name of your group? Cute. You look at the entries.|

|"Siffrin. He/they. I'll be in charge of the body the most."|

|"Loop, They/them~ Your wonderful, helpful Loop~"|

|"Mal Du Pays. It/its. Protector. Dont hurt the body and we're fine."|

|"Null. He/him. That's all you're getting."|

|"Saffron. He/they."|

|You were a little curious, or worried, why the last entry didn't have more detail. No matter, there were more in detailed descriptions on the next couple pages, too. . . You, you should add one.|

|. . . . . . . . . . . .|

|"Asterion. He/him."|

|The name just, came to you. You don't know why, but, you knew that was your name. Asterion. Oh. . . Or was it Asterius? You felt both were right, but, the first you. . . Liked more. Either a father of a tyrant king, or monster said king was cursed with. . . You didn't put more details in the journal. You didn't want to. And, if you did, you had a terrible feeling they'd. . .|

|. . . . You look at the latest journal entries.|

|Earlier Today: "Got into town! We'll take a day to relax, Wolworth is just a little bit further. Still glad that talk about Saffron went well - Sif"|

|Yesterday: "Fought sadness. Getting repopulated. Very weak. All is good. - MAL"|

|Two days ago: "Well it looks like lovely our new addition made the decision for us! He woke up in the middle of the night and scared Bonnie oh so badly. Eating an onion? Spices?!? Ugh, at least we have a name, now. Saffron. - Loop<3"|

|. . . How. . . Eventful? You have strange, phantom memories of these events. Remember remembering, like you should know it but don't. . . You leave a note under the latest entry.|

|"Woke up at night, not sure why I am here. Isabeau was able to help." You think for a moment. . . "I will not cause trouble, I am just very anxious about all of this. I may hide, but, thank you for the introduction. - Asterion"|

|You stared at the letters you wrote on the page. Reading and re-reading them a thousand times at least. . . They wont find out. They, can't find out. Please, don't find out. . .|

|You take a breath, and hold it, then release. You close the book and put it to the side.|

"Better?" |Isa asks. You drink the rest of the water he got you.|

"I. . . Yes." |You turn off the lamp and lay back down, staring at the ceeling.| "Yes I, I think I'll be okay."

|. . . Eventually, you close your eyes. Isabeau gets closer to you. As if on instinct, you fit yourself into his arms. He's warm, strong, and protective. . . Oh. . If he knew. . .|

|You had no plan. What WAS there to plan. You, lost. You lost one hundred times, in fact. Your title will live down and be remembered by all as one of doom. Oh. .The man who nearly saved a country. Well. . . Oh would it have truly been saved? Would it not just be forgotten in time as your home was?|

|That made it hurt all the more.|

|You, were not, him.|

|You felt with every bone in your body that you were that tyrant frozen in time. But you know in your soul you were not. The memories you have of those bloodiest of battles. . Oh. . They showed a villain who was cruel. So, so cruel. . Oh you could never do such a thing. It hurt to think about. It hurt to remember. And it hurt, it hurt in your stomach when you, you. . .|

|. . . You need, to sleep. . .|

|. . .|

|Your name is Asterion. And you are The King.|

[howdoyousleep3]

Hey, mama. I'm not American but I live in a country with very strict laws about LGBT and porn and stuff. And you know what, literally NOTHING changed with these laws. Noone can take your queerness from you, noone can forbid you be who you are (woman, man, non binary, whatever). But I've never thought you'd be THAT angry over something that didn't even happen yet. Don't you understand ppl vote against this anger ("fuck men", "make everyone uncomfy", "double the suffering and gelive it to trump")? I have no respect for anyone who's trying to take yours from you. But you're doing exactly what they want to do. The only difference is they are against queer and you're against straight. You can send me to hell or not reply in any way. But in a four year time you'll see, that your life didn't cange much. Trust me. People always find the way to do what they want to do. Breathe out girl. Everything's gonna be okay. Even if it doesn't seem like it now.

Yes, I will take this opportunity to “send you to hell”, thank you lol

This is all a backwards line of thinking. This isn’t just another candidate that’s running for President and another candidate that we’ll move on from in four years; this is a man that’s been elected President that will alter and change the trajectory of our country and our government structures itself. Democracy will no longer exist the way that it has for 250 years, if at all.

He has already made announcements of forcing the government to only acknowledge two genders, of punishing teachers with civil crimes if they try and teach anything but, of altering education in schools to only teach about man and wife, man and woman.

What do you mean, “breathe out”?

This is the man that overturned Roe v. Wade, that stripped women of the rights to their bodies. He appointed extreme and conservative Supreme Court Justices that will make similar decisions for this country until the day they die. This is the man that wants to force all women to have unwanted pregnancies at any age, for any reason, even if it might kill them and even if they are the product of rape. He wants to make it illegal for pregnant women to cross state lines, wants the government to track women’s periods, wants to get rid of birth control as a whole.

“Breathe out”?

He wants to make interracial marriage illegal, wants to make gay marriage illegal, wants to get rid of the Department of Education and radicalize education to where everyone prays in school and learns a very white-washed education (moreso than now) that focuses on how amazing America is. He wants to jeopardize school funding more than it is and wave it over districts heads as a threat. Public school and children will suffer more than it ever has.

That’s just scratching the surface.

It shouldn’t matter that it hasn’t happened yet; we’ve barely recovered from the effects of his last presidency. The hate he encouraged and spewed is something I’m not sure we’ll ever recover from at all. It hasn’t happened yet, but he’s outlined exactly how it’s going to happen and exactly what we should expect.

And you think I should take a deep breath?

I’m happy that your life is exactly the same as it was before your laws were put into place. But this is WAY more than a focus on LGBTQIA+ communities. This is our entire livelihood. This is our entire government, country, communities, futures at stake. And this is extremely personal, even as a white woman in a straight presenting relationship. I can’t imagine the fear that any woman or person of color or any trans person or anyone in a gay marriage is feeling.

I’m angry for myself, my two young daughters. I’m angry for the women in my life who have to put their future plans on hold or who have to decide right now if they want to get pregnant or start a family now and are mourning for the loss of it. I’m angry for my best friend who is a woman of color who now has to wait and see if her marriage will end up being legal, whose safety I worry for every single day. I’m angry for all of my trans friends who have to yet again question why this country hates them so much and doesn’t cherish and love them for existing as they are.

I’m angry. I feel rage in my body and spirit that I have not once felt before and that’s with me being one of the lucky ones to receive generations of trauma and anger I have to work through. I’ve never felt anger like this, this stagnant, still, villain era anger. And I’ll be damned if I don’t use it for good because I think it’s ridiculous of you to say that I should be quiet and let the other side, the side that instills fear in others and wishes to take away their very basic human rights, be louder than I am.

Fuck that to the highest degree.

I’m about to use my privilege to scream my love and my support for those in need from the highest of mountaintops. And if that comes in the form of screaming my hatred for men, the patriarchy, Republicans, and conservatives directly back to them then I sure as shit will be doing that; they are the ones with hate in their heart who are wishing to take away the rights of others. I didn’t vote for that. If my hatred comes in other forms like becoming a part of local community groups with like minds, supporting local and black-owned businesses, supporting my local library, educating my daughters to be empathetic and supportive, standing up for women in public if need be, then I will also sure as shit be doing that.

The world deserves my anger.

This was an ignorant ask to send. I don’t hate straight people; that’s just outright fucking stupid. I don’t think you’re educated enough on the subject to be sending me an ask that is effectively telling me to calm down, WHICH IS SO FUNNY because that’s what women are always told when they’re hysterical, because this is much much more than just the rights of LGBTQIA+ people and another President being elected.

Sure, I hope you’re right and that everything is the same in four years. But you’re wrong.

Sure, I’ll breathe out. But then I’m going to take a deep breath in and scream my support at the top of my lungs even if it comes in the form of hating men, conservatives, Republicans, and Trump.

Please don’t pretend as if you know me. This is the internet, this is fandom, this is somewhat of a persona.

Yes, I am angry. I can’t understand how people are not.

[drdemonprince]

i'd like to say sth abt the x gender marker thing. i've just started getting the paperwork done for it myself, and although its an exhausting grueling bureaucratic pricess, it's filling me w the kind of joy i last felt when i got my first hrt prescription. i know i will have constant difficulties in a system of institutions that have no official way of dealing w nonbinary identities, and i fully expect the openly white nationalist party in my country to become a significant influence in national government within the next 10 years. i also have an escape plan of sorts, but i'm fully expecting that i may be legally detransitioned again. i would still be betraying myself fundamentally and stealing joy from myself, something that i get to have very little of, if i didn't do it anyway, bc i already cannot access plenty of services including healthcare bc i'm simply too dysphoric and institutionally traumatized to show up and be misgendered. there is no such thing as stealth or passing for a nonbinary person in the society i live in, only erasure; i might as well exercise this tiny amount of power i have been given for a brief time to force them to acknowledge me as who i am. i agree that having one's gender be irrelevant to one's personhood, including legally, would be vastly preferable, but i don't see how me getting an x in my id detracts from or otherwise influences that. my government already has plenty of ways of getting lists of trans ppl if they ever want one. i may be painting a target on my back, but as far as i am concerned, it is already there bc i am already incredibly vulnerable and restricted as a trans person for whom passing or stealth is not an option. i might as well get marginalized for who and what i am and make them look me in the eye at a doctor's office while they awkwardly tell me they don't have the infrastructure to process me as a patient than cringe and stammer while i tell them that actually i'm transgender and i would prefer for them to address me as this or that while knowing damn well they just see me as a quirky woman that they may or may not humor for hashtag diversity's sake. they may still do that ofc, but for all the risks and trouble i am incurring, it also corrects the scales of institutional power just a tiny bit in my favor by giving me legal grounds to argue. i'm also terrified of the police for good reasons, but i'm more terrified of them as a misgendered and scared but not out trans person unsure if and how much to advocate for myself than i am as someone confident enough to at least get hurt for who i am, rather than for who i am not and hiding out of fear of worse punishment. i am not advocating for anyone else to do or not do the same bc it is a subjective and highly varied set of risks and rewards that must be personally evaluated, and above all i'm very aware that as a white (not us) person, for all the institutional violence i have previously endured, i would be risking far worse if i were not, but as far as i am concerned, it feels like one of the best, most powerful things i can do for myself right now is to get the damn papers even if in the worst case they end up taking them away from me again.

Thanks for sharing your experience. I remember that when I was nonbinary and not medically transitioning, I felt much the same way. I was ready to really throw myself on the pyre for the sake of just actually being seen as not the gender I had been forced to be, for once. And honestly? Nothing short of medical transition did that. All the changes to my personal style, hair, comportment, voice training, the pronoun pins, the asserting myself, the putting pronouns in my email signature, the changing my medical forms and documentation at work to make me nonbinary, none of it made what felt like any lick of difference in how i was treated, because nonbinary identities are so thoroughly erased. The ONLY thing that got people to start treating me as gender ambiguous or to they/them me was to begin to transition as a trans man and use he/him pronouns, lol. (And eventually, most people did switch over to actually gendering me correctly as a guy, tho I still do get the they/them once in a while which annoys me and it's always VERY telling who tends to do it).

I don't know your situation or if you have medically transitioned in any fashion or not, or if you even want to, and our stories are different, but all of which is to say, I know how immensely frustrating it is and how confining it is to interpreted as your assigned gender seemingly no matter what you fucking do, and that sensation of being willing to take on serious risk to be seen. if anything that was part of what tipped me over into self conceptualizing as a gender nonconforming man rather than outside the binary altogether. different risks that i chose to take on, but still, the decision to take on risk rather than be locked away inside how people saw me.

I think structural nonbinary erasure runs so deep that very few individual level actions can make a dent in it and it's maddening. Of course there's all the intersections with transmisogyny that also impact who is visible as trans and who is not and who finds themselves yearning for greater visibility and those for whom visibility is nothing but massive vulnerability that itself cannot be escaped. But I understand that you've considered everything carefully and are aware of the risks in what you're taking on, and I hope that it does mean you don't feel that confined unseen feeling anymore. Because as much as I'm qualifying things I do know how fucking awful that sensation is and how few avenues there are for doing a damn thing about it that people will take seriously.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

KinkVember 11 - Knife Play

Slasher Simon "Ghost" Riley x Bambi x Transferrable Skills Simon

Read on AO3

CW: Knife play, blood mention, CMNF, explicit consent, check ins, abrupt ending

Notes: This is from a project that I'm percolating on with @sentientcave. All you need to know about that, right now, is that for Good and Plot Relevant Reasons, the various versions of the 141 I've written, and some of their darlings, have met and are in an interesting Liminal Space, where they are passing the time.

This is not cannon to either Slasher Handler or Transferrable Skills at this time.

PS: Haha, yeah, it's late. I feel a little bad about it, but I am also being nice to myself about it. Happy KinkVember!

Ghost is not as big as your Simon, but his presence is… overwhelming. He sits on the couch, bare faced, the way he never is around the other versions of himself. His blue eyes burn into yours, before he flicks them down to take in what you've worn for this experience. Simon's shirt hugs your curves and sits lightly on your hips, the only thing you're wearing other than a pair of lacy panties. You clench your toes when he looks at your bare feet, inexplicably shy.

He unsheathes the knife.

When you take a reflexive step back, Simon is there to catch you. One of his large hands rubs your shoulder, the other caresses your throat. "You're safe, Bambi. You trust me?"

"I trust you," you answer. "You won't let me get hurt, you won't get mad, you won't punish me."

"'m gonna hurt you," Ghost says. He cocks his head. "You know no one stays dead here?"

"You do anything she doesn't want," Simon rumbles above your head, "and I'm going to make you wish you could die."

Ghost sits back, cocking his head. "Never said anything about doing anything she don't want. Just said the truth of what she's asked me for. To hurt 'er. And that I can't kill 'er."

You feel a lot less brave, now that you're looking at the unsheathed knife in his hand. "What if I change my mind?"

"Then we check in," Simon answers, fingers pinching your earlobe. He nudges you forward when Ghost holds his empty hand out. "You chose him. I trust you."

"You just said you'd make him wish he was dead."

"'e said the same thing to Roman," Ghost chuckles. He catches your wrist with surprisingly gentle fingers. He moves so fast, you don't have time to flinch. The knife is just there, against your hip, lifting the hem of Simon's shirt to expose pink lace.

"Aren't you pretty?"

"It's all I could find," you whisper as the sharp edge of the blade plinks through rayon and elastic.

"Price is a demon, an' he likes pretty girls," Ghost rumbles. "'s true in every reality."

The panties barely make a sound as he slices through one side, then the other. You don't even have to step out of them, they just flutter to the ground. He uses the sharp tip to poke through the hem of the shirt, but simply lifts it. At your puzzled face, he raises an eyebrow until you get with the program and pull it off all the way.

Ghost gestures with a finger for you to turn around. You gulp as you do, looking up into Simon's concentrating face. Ghost's hand on your hip pulls you back, until you're plopped unceremoniously in his lap, Simon following to tower over you both.

"You know it could scar?" Ghost asks, perfunctory.

"I know," you whisper.

"You say stop, it stops. Acknowledge," Simon prompts, taking one of your hands in his. Ghost pushes your shoulder forward until your chest is pressed against Simon’s front, your other hand braced against his hip.

You gulp. "Acknowledged."

The first bite of the knife against your left shoulder blade is a shock. You can tell it's a small cut, but it stings, and you're not sure why you're surprised. You don't really have time to brace before the knife is back.

Ghost moves so fast, so methodically. You imagine it's like getting a tattoo as he works his way across your shoulders. Eventually the sting seeps into you and turns into a warmth that flows down your spine until Simon is holding you up.

The pain makes things a little fuzzy and warm around the edges. The little knicks lose their edge, and you nuzzle into Simon’s belly with a hum.

Beneath you, Ghost is hard, but you kind of expected that. His hand doesn't waver, though. He just pauses when you squirm against him and resumes his work when you settle again.

You are surprised when you feel Simon getting hard against your breasts. Ghost pauses as you tip your head up to look into Simon’s dark eyes, then resumes his methodical work.

“Sits like a dream,” Ghost says behind you.

“She’s perfect,” Simon says, stroking gentle fingers over your cheek. When you catch his thumb between your lips, he groans. “Color, Bambi.”

You’re still lucid enough that the words come easy. “Green. Please.”

“Good girl,” Simon rumbles, and his other hand dips down to touch the top of your back. You can’t help but shiver as he brings the red tips of his fingers up to his lips.

[syrma-sensei]

→ Honourable Lies.

gif credit.

Pairing: Kyōraku Shunsui x Wife!reader.

Rating: Mature.

Warnings: Angst, couple fighting...

Word Count: 850.

Summary: You find about the very thing Shunsui doesn't want you to know about.

“How dare you!”

You catch your husband in the grand library of the First Squad quarters. His back is hunched forward, head bending over the book he's reading.

While you're simmering with anger, he lets out an elongated sigh that's weighed with burden. You can see that as Shunsui glances over at you from his spot. You almost feel bad for him. Well, you do. But after you heard from a reliable source what's been on the table with Central 46 and him, rage soused in your body. You didn't want to believe, but here he is, not saying a single word to deny it.

“So you have heard…” Shunsui says, raising his head up from the book, casting his away for a moment, “Words do travel fast from Central 46. Beats me.”

“Is it true?” Your voice weakens in implorement. Just say no, please, you think. But when he doesn't answer you push it, “Shun, please, tell me it's not true.”

He sighs again, he spent the past hours contemplating over how he should deliver you the news. Although he saw this coming, he couldn't conceal the waver in his tone, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It is true.”

The sight of tears well up in your eyes stabs him in his chest. With a blink of an eye, you feel his warmth enshrouds you, his large arms encircle you into his hold, and you lean into his chest out of habit.

“He killed my father, Shun…” You sniffle softly, “How could you do that?”

A painful twang sears through his heart. You've never been mad at him until now. He'll have this as a stigma for the rest of his life. He kisses the crown of your head to console you.

“I know, baby, I know…” He tries to comfort you, patting your back with his gentle hand, “I’m sorry I have to put you through this. But we need Aizen Sōsuke to win.”

You wince at the mention of your father's killer. You're a daughter of a member of the former Central 46 before Aizen massacred them all.

You shake your head relentlessly, “We don't!”

“My love, please, try to understand—”

“We don't need that rogue kinslayer.” You say stubbornly.

He sighs again. There's no way convincing you with reason, is there? Reluctantly, Shunsui wears the new Head Captain of The Gotei Thirteen's mask.

“It’s my job to ensure our victory, my love,” He grimaces at his own tone, he never spoke to you as such, “I’m terribly sorry, but the Central 46 has already given me their blessing to embark on unsealing him.”

You push him away, your body already yearns to his warmth around it again. Shunsui has always been your rock, your home. It goes against your nature to push him away like that. But he left you with no choice; the fact your father's killer will be breathing the same air as you thanks to your husband's efforts sends to the edge. Rage, frustration, and disappointment overwhelm you, and you cry harder. You wish you were a shinigami like your husband, maybe in that case he wouldn't be needing that bastard's help.

You glance up at him, your hand is flat on his bare chest. You can feel it, there's a change in his reiatsu. Something alien in his chest. Your eyes widen in realisation. 

Your voice is wary. “Kyōraku Shunsui—”

His hands swipe up on your shoulders, “I need your blessing, wife.” He smiles ruefully, “I can't go against the enemy knowing my beautiful wife is angry with me.”

Your lips crack into a small smile through your tears. “Shunsui you can't fool me with words. I'm your wife.”

He smiles sadly, “I can't, can I?”

You flick your thumb to his chest and ease away the glamour that hides the X mark on his chest. Your heart wrings. 

“What did you do?” You sniffle again, stroking the mark softly with your hands, “Why are you so gluttonous for punishment?”

“I’m not eager to see him either, believe me,” Shunsui chuckles humourlessly, “One must always be on their full guard when it involves Aizen Sōsuke.”

“What if… what if…” He kills you too, you wanted to say, but instead, “What if he harms you?” You reason, “You’re the Head Captain now, the Gotei Thirteen can't afford to lose another one.”

“It must be me, my love.” He sighs, “It was my idea…” Please, do not hate me.

Your tears pour down your cheeks, “Shunsui… I lost my lord father. I don't want to lose my lord husband too.”

“You won't. I promise.” He says, patting your head.

You both hear a knock on the library's door.

“Pardon me, Head Captain,” A member of the onmitsukidō is bowing at the entrance, “But it is time.”

You hug your husband, burying your face in his chest, “Please, don't leave me…” Your cries are muffled by his skin.

He leans in and kisses the top of your head, “I’ll be back in no time, I promise.”

Then, along with that soldier, he disappears from the library. Leaving you with a broken promise, and an honourable lie.

• Main Masterlist.

• Bleach Masterlist.

• AO3.

[httpskuzuu]

Fault

i wrote this while watching apocalipsisminecraft :D

Anyway, I'm not very good at writing dialogues, so I hope it's okay

Yandere!Dazai x Reader

English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes

summary: you deal with the silent treatment after an argument.

tw: angst¿, toxic relationship, manipulation

The silence is simply punishing, it always was. Your body was intact, balled up on your bed, but your mind wasn't as lucky. The silent treatment was a problem, one that hurt more than you'd like to admit, but your still-wet cheeks gave you away.

It hurt you that Dazai ignored you. You had tried to distract yourself in a thousand ways these days: you went out with your friends (the few you had left), spent the days away from home, concentrated on your hobbies. Nothing seemed to work, it's as if Dazai had planted a seed in your psyche that keeps growing and growing, every day his silence was getting worse.

You can't win an argument because this is what happens, talking or complaining about Osamu's toxic behavior would only ensure you that wordless jail. You had every right to complain! Because of him you lost many friends, he distanced you from them in a way that made you only realize it when it was too late, after you had already cut the total bond with them and they didn't want to see you again.

You don't blame them either, if a friend had a toxic boyfriend and ignored you for him all day, not letting help them, you would be angry too. They have been very patient because they know the details of your life with Dazai well, but everyone has limits.

Now you are alone, even Dazai doesn't seem to love you.

You try to hold back your tears at that thought, but it is impossible, you can only cover your mouth with your hand to hide your sobs. That's one of the things you had tried to avoid, if Dazai really loved you he wouldn't do this to you.

He knows of your suffering and yet he continues to treat you as if you were a ghost, you can't help but doubt his feelings for you. You think that maybe you are just a sadistic desire of his, that he only wants to pretend to love you and then leave you abandoned like a toy. Yes, you are just that, his toy.

There's not much to complain about either, you're aware of your situation and yet here you are, by his side. It's not that you wouldn't have tried to leave him, you did once, but he came back to beg your forgiveness and you simply couldn't refuse. You become weak with just one look from him.

And that cycle was always repeating itself. Whenever there was a fight big enough to overshadow your love for Osamu, he was the one who apologized. You wished it was like that this time too, but it's not.

Know what, fuck it, who needs friends anyway? You need Dazai, it hurts not being together with him. It eats you up inside with anger and shame for letting yourself fall for his manipulation, but what else are you going to do? You're not going to keep crying in bed until you fall asleep.

You head towards the living room where you know for sure that Dazai is, watching TV. He doesn't even turn to look at you even though you are sure he heard your footsteps.

“Osamu.” Saying his name is a mixture of pain and love that infiltrates your brain. Sometimes you wish you had never met him, but you think better of it when you remember that he is the only one who loves you. Who else could love you with your attitude?

He still does not respond and a look of sadness invades you, you try to remove it, but it comes back each time. Finally you give up, Dazai already knows how weak and useless you are and knows well your character, so you allow yourself to cry.

You don't hesitate to lie on his body and hug him while you try to form a sentence, any sentence, but only incoherent sobs come out.

You don't see Osamu's reaction, you just wish he was as affected as you are. He wraps his arms around you and kisses the crown of your head lovingly. You missed him so much, you don't even know how you managed to survive these days without his love and touch. “What is it, Belladonna?”

You press your face against his chest as shame clutches tightly at your throat. He mocks you even your current state and that is like a stab in the heart, you feel the pain in every detail.

“You hate me, you hate me.” Stifled meaningless sobs come out of your mouth, but still Osamu manages to hear them.

“And why would you say such a stupid thing?”

“You were ignoring me! If you really loved me you wouldn't do that.”

“So now I'm the bad guy.” His tone of voice changes to a more distant one and his hug loses strength. In response you can only hug him tighter, afraid that, if you loosen his arms a little, he will leave you alone again. “You didn't try to talk to me either.”

You raise your gaze, an indignant one, which is accompanied by furrowed eyebrows. You want to look annoyed, but you just look pathetic.

“That's because you always do the same thing! We fight and you stop talking to me!” Pain trickles through your words, but Dazai doesn't seem to care enough to comfort you. “What am I going to humiliate myself for when I know you're going to ignore me?”

"Oh, poor little Belladonna, always the victim of the story." His condescending voice makes you feel like an idiot, you come to think that you really are. "Didn't you ever think I just needed space? Come on, you're so clingy and I was just trying to protect you from getting hurt.”

Seeing your puzzled expression, he can only laugh.

“Well of course you haven't thought about it. That cute little head of yours is good for nothing but victimization.”

“I- I'm sorry, I didn't know you felt this way...” Your voice trembles and his words linger in your mind. Maybe it's all your fault after all, you've never tried to put yourself in the opposite shoes and that makes you feel like the biggest useless.

The award for the worst partner in the world should be given to you, you think.

Dazai has no reaction at first, looking at you with those cold eyes, but they soften after a few seconds. He can't resist you after all.

Osamu's warm arms squeeze you again, you almost cry with joy thanks to how nice it feels to be held like that.

"It's okay, my sweet." Osamu ends up whispering near your ear, which sends a pleasurable shiver throughout your body. “Let me show you how much I love you now.”

and if I make a second part nsfw? 👀

[gl1tchr]

Do you think Paul Dano’s riddler is going to die in this universe? And or any of the other rogues (joker Penguin etc.) ?

That is a TOUGH question. I've tried to think about how Reeves used death in Batman, and how death is used in The Penguin to figure out who's *heading* towards it, and it's hard! Death in the Reevesverse is very indiscriminate. It takes the good, the bad, those trying to get better, those actively choosing to be worse. Is Edward's path leading him towards death, or is the more apt narrative punishment for his crimes being forced to continue living in his own mind? I think I lean towards the latter. I've always held firm that Arkhamverse Riddler is HEAVY inspo for Dano Riddler in terms of his narrative decline he will experience over the course of the movies. Beginning as a (still unethical and frankly delusional about his motives) well-intentioned vigilante genuinely doing what he thought would fix things (Early Riddler YO when he's still trying to go thru conventional routes to uncover corruption), to a more overtly violent and vindictive antagonist (End of R:YO and Batman 2022), and finally, into a severely deluded, broken man with very little self awareness because every moment he spends in introspection is painful. He must reckon with his actions and it is brutal, and THAT is his punishment. The quieting of his mind through death is a mercy for Riddler, AND MAYBE with the themes Reeves is going for, giving the Riddler PEACE could be a possible choice depending on what is set up in the second movie! Though, I'm leaning towards his narrative punishment being to live with who he is; Edward Nashton, The Riddler.

WARNING: I mention suicide by explosives ahead

AN ADENDUM; This is just something cool my brother thought of when we talked about Ed's future in the narrative and he agreed that killing him off isn't the move, HOWEVER, we explored some ways in which that could be done in and I really enjoyed his. I've talked about how I think Joker is rearing up to really HARDCORE manipulate Edward. I can't tell you how they'd pull this off, but let me paint you a picture.

Movie II, as we now know, will seem to largely focus on more of the mob and gang violence aspect of Gotham and how Batman will be applying his new philosophy of Hope-Above-Vengeance philosophy. So we don't *see* Ed or Joker for 99% of it. Batman's doing his thing when he gets a call from Gordon, Riddler has been acting strangely and has implied he has information that could give Bruce some insight (See: when he went to Arkham for Joker's perspective on Edward - he seems to know when to use these Rogues for his own purposes just as much as they use too) into whoever it is he's trying to find. A familiar scene, Edward across from Bruce in the interrogation room. He looks *horrible*, but he's elated. Bruce is biting back anger - the last time he saw Edward he was *pissed*, and that hasn't settled, but he's trying to be better. He's trying to have hope. Maybe they exchange some words, but that's not really why Edward called him here. Edward tells him that nothing can save this city. If his cleansing didn't save it, if hope isn't saving it, nothing will. So go down with me, Batman. He's got an explosive, rigged to blow, and while he smiles, he kills himself and attempts to take Batman with him. But he fails. What he does do, though, is cause a massive break-out, which Joker takes full advantage of - because he set it up. He wormed his way onto Eddie's fragile mind and convinced him death would be a release AND his vengeance against Batman. But Joker knew this wouldn't kill Batman, be that through some intuitive hunch or maybe he's familiar with how resilient he is. Either way, he will have convinced Edward to take his life if it meant taking down who he both despises and craves so desperately, but it would be a lie. It would just be to get him out. And he would tell Bruce as much - "I did that guy a favor - he was a *mess*, he'd shake my hand if he could but - I think I saw those on the ground when I left". Edward, always someone's punching bag, months very end. So, in that way, even though death is still mercy for Edward, it's still cruel. NOW I DONT THINK THIS WORKS NARRATIVELY ON A LOT OF LEVELS, it was just a REALLY chilling thought to imagine Edward's manic joy as he accepted he was going to die, but would finally hurt someone as much as hes been hurt. I liked it a lot and thought I'd share just for funsies :]

[userautumn]

Please don't feel the need to respond but I feel like you're one of the more level-headed shippers (ship-agnostic) so I wanted to get your opinion on something.

I personally believe Ryan Guzman when he repeatedly says Eddie is straight. Obviously, these can change any second and people are allowed to headcanon whatever they want, regardless of what the show tells us.

But seeing people use the juice bar scene to prove Eddie's a repressed gay man is a little weird. I just saw, "Eddie said he was straight. And then the priest told him to stop punishing himself (drinking bland water) and enjoyed what he really wanted (fruit juice)"

It kind of just feels like they're inadvertently calling him fruity, which is more pejorative than I think people realize when the person isn't canonically queer and the actor has asked to us to revisit why we think he secretly is.

I don't know, I guess I just wanted to know what you think. You're good about remembering this is a TV show but that it also has real world consequences every now and then <3

Howdy! 🤠

Oh man, ship-agnostic. Haha. That's great. I'm stealing that, thank you.

Yeah, since 8x6, I've also seen people directly and indirectly assert that Eddie is gay because of the fruit juice choice and, if we're being honest, I find that theory to be problematic. (Problematic in the way the word was meant to be defined, not in a these people should be cancelled way). Not even for the reasons you suggest, and not even because I disagree with the reading that Eddie is Queer (I don't), but because believing that the narrative is implying he's fruity is gross. "Fruity" is still a derogatory term. It's only in Gay/Queer circles that we use slurs or historically denigrating words to refer to each other casually.

But recontextualizing the existence of 9-1-1 outside the fandom bubble and realizing it's written overwhelmingly by heterosexual men should make people raise an eyebrow if indeed that were the implication (which, for the record, I don't think it was) because that's not a term anybody should be using for the Queer community unless they're Queer, and especially not if they're trying to handle such a potentially beautiful arc with care. You know?

I too believe Ryan when he says Eddie is straight. Mainly because 9-1-1 spent years skirting the line of ambiguity regarding how they handle Buddie and Eddie's sexuality specifically, only to throw that ambiguity out the window now. As you said, this could change at a moment's notice. But at this time, that definitely doesn't seem like the direction they're trying to go in. Which is unfortunate! But, alas. Nothing we can do about it from here, now is there? Lol.