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storiesofsvu · 6 months

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Good Little Pet

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, smut, kitten kink/very minor pet play, more mentions of it, strap sucking, daddy!emily, lots of dirty talk. Welp, we made it, the last halloween fic on November 8th. nbd lol. who knows if it's any good. Bare with me as I continue to try and get some one shots out for y'all!

To be completely honest, Emily was pretty exhausted, drained from a day of questioning sleazebag after sleazebag in an attempt to move forward on a case, the only saving grace was that it was local to D.C, no jets, no hotels and most importantly, she could come home to you at the end of the day. She’d already missed dinner, the sun gone from the sky when she finally trudged out to the parking lot, the car springing to life so the clock could tell her it was nearing ten thirty p.m. already. Plugging her dead phone in she let out a sigh and shifted the car into drive, by the time she hit the freeway her phone began to buzz with a couple of texts from you that she waited until she was at a standstill to check.

‘Guessing you’re trapped at work, I’m heading out around seven. Dinner’s in the fridge, lmk if you’re gonna swing by the party, you know the address.’ With a little smiley face and heart at the end. The next one was time stamped two hours later.

‘Ngl, I’m a little drunk. This Halloween punch is no joke. Would it be wildly inappropriate to say I want you to rail me into next week? God I hope you’re not on the jet rn galivanting off across the country because my hands just will not cut it.’

Emily barked out a laugh, shaking her head at your brashness before she swiftly typed out a reply, sly smile still on her cheeks.

‘It would only be wildly inappropriate if you weren’t my girlfriend. I’m on my way now, save me a drink.’

She signed it with a kiss and plugged the address into her GPS, taking note of the different exit she was going to have to take.

To be completely honest, you didn’t go out much, whether that was to the bar or to house parties, you especially felt like you’d outgrown the latter. You were much more focused on work and spending what free time you did have with your girlfriend considering she was out of town more often than not. So tonight was a special night where you were finally letting loose a little, indulging in punch, drinking games and catching up with friends you hadn’t seen in a while. The party was a mix of people, some you’d worked with in the past, their partners, friends, new coworkers, a full house including a handful of people you didn’t know.

You’d been catching up with April when one of those people you didn’t know sauntered up and introduced himself as Travis, his hand lingering in yours a little too long for comfort had you been sober. His intro line was funny enough to make you laugh and honestly he was pretty cute, if you were single and swung that way you wouldn’t have any complaints. He conveniently reached around you to grab a fresh beer out of the cooler, passing it off to his other hand so the first one could remain leaning on the counter, dangerously close to your body. You complimented his costume, earning a wide grin from him as he chuckled softly, paying both of you a compliment back before the three of you fell into an incredibly easy and comfortable conversation.

Emily managed to slip into the house unnoticed, though she wasn’t surprised, things were more than in full swing, people everywhere, lights low and music going. Crossing through the main living room there was a group of people half watching horror movies while shouting when to drink to each other while they talked over the rest of it. She caught eyes with a few people she recognized, giving them waves from across the room as she made her way through the space to the doorway of the kitchen where she heard you before she saw you. Your laugh always made her heart flutter, whether she was the one pulling them from you or not, her lips twitching up into a grin as her eyes searched through the darkened room.

Her eyes widened briefly when she saw you, dressed in a tight, sparkly black bodysuit with matching boy shorts over top, just enough of your chest peeking out over the top of the neckline. The tip of your nose was painted pink, whiskers drawn across your bright cheeks, a headband with cat ears on the top of your head and a fluffy tail pinned to the back of your shorts. She knew you hadn’t been planning anything extensive for your costume, not being one for dressing up but this was just the perfect amount to look good yet also drive her wild. As her gaze dragged up your body her head tilted, eyes narrowing at a hand resting on your hip that wasn’t yours, rather it was connected to the arm wrapped around your waist. The man beside you was laughing at something you said, leaning in to untangle a curl of your hair that had gotten wrapped around one of the cat ears.

She could tell that he wasn’t making you uncomfortable, the smile on your cheeks genuine and not just to appease him but that didn’t help the green eyed monster that was beginning to burn inside her gut. She wasn’t sure if it was an old friend or a stranger who was getting a little too cozy, but she certainly didn’t want him to stick around much longer. Slipping through the crowd she was finally able to approach you, a smirk breaking out on her lips when you spotted her, practically jumping away from the counter and your new friend.

“Baby!” You greeted, squeezing tightly at her hand as you popped toward her to steal a quick kiss.

“Hi babe.” She murmured back, smile on her cheeks before she was interrupted.

“Aw c’mon, you’re not even dressed up.” Travis interjected.

“Yeah?” Her hand found her hip, brushing back the front of her blazer revealing her Glock in the process.

“So what’re you supposed to be?” He asked again, smarmy grin on his cheeks.

“An FBI agent who’s pissed you’ve got your hands all over her girlfriend.” She replied with a stern gaze and he backed up with a laugh.

“You could at least let me hold your gun.”

“It’s not a prop.” Emily glared and he was across the kitchen without a second word, April disappearing to leave the two of you alone for a couple of minutes.

“He was harmless.” You giggled, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“I know.” She huffed a laugh, “doesn’t make intimidating him any less fun.”

“You’re ruthless.”

“And you make one hell of a seductive cat.”

“Yeah?” You asked with a grin, “that mean I get to sit on your lap?”

“You can do a lot more than sit on my lap.” She murmured; her fingers splayed across your jaw to tilt your head toward her as her thumb trailed down your neck. She’d been intending to pull you into a kiss but when her thumb hit leather her eyes directed further south, widening at the black choker around your neck. It only took a second for her to realize it wasn’t a necklace, but rather a collar, complete with a gemstone at the front of it, her head tilted in confusion. “That’s not your birthstone.”

“No.” You chuckled, “it’s yours. All kitties have to know who they belong to, don’t they?”

“Well you…” her thumb moved back up, rubbing at your jaw, “seem to have forgotten that part.” She leant down, leaving a kiss on the side of your neck, her next words husked into your ear, “I bet you think you’re real cute letting him put his hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.” Her teeth nipped at your earlobe as your breath caught in your throat, a tingle shooting through your entire body, “now kitten…who do you belong to?”

Your eyes widened, pulse quickening at the use of the new pet name, knowing no doubt it was brought on by the risqué costume you’d chosen for the night, completely unaware it was going to awaken something like this in Emily.

“You, daddy.” You whispered and she smiled, a hungry look in her eye as she leant in to peck you.

“Good girl.” Her hand slunk down your arm, fingers lacing with yours, “now, you promised you’d save me a drink.”

“Mmhmm…” Nodding, you took a breath to try and calm yourself before leading her to the drink table.

Emily’s hand didn’t leave your body for the rest of the night, lingering in the small of your back, resting across your shoulders, winding tightly around your waist whenever anyone got a little too friendly. Her lips would press into your neck, shoulder, cheek, temple, anywhere acceptable for PDA in a crowd like this, staying glued to your side to make sure it was known you were hers. At one point you leant over a table, tossing the beer pong ball back to someone and she caught Travis’ eyes looking directly down your shirt, lips forming a hungry grin that made her stomach churn. She grabbed your waist, swiftly turning you to her and catching you in a deep kiss, smiling at the way your arms instantly wound around her shoulders.

“It’s time to go.” She murmured and you let out a small giggle, whispering back.

“Whatever you say daddy.”

Emily’s tongue was down your throat, her hands pawing at your ass as she backed you down the hallway into the bedroom, nearly tripping over her own feet as she did. You let out a moan into the kiss, your hips rutting against hers as your arms wrapped tighter around her shoulders. Her teeth sank into your lower lip, pulling a groan from you as she reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, a fire in her eyes as she grinned at you.

“Can’t believe you dressed up like this just for me.” She said and you giggled.

“Well.. if it was just for you… it would’ve been sluttier.”

“How so?” She asked, a brow raised.

“No shorts, for starters.” Your fingers slipped into the waist band, shoving them down your legs leaving you in just the body suit, “probably more cleavage.” You tugged the fabric down further, exposing more of your chest and Emily chuckled.

“But now you’ve lost your tail, kitten.” Her finger curled under your chin, tilting your head to the side, nipping at you earlobe, “although we could get you a plug that has one.” Her lips brushed against your skin, “would you like that?”

“Mmhm…” You giggled, a gleam in your eyes as you looked up at her, “I didn’t expect you to be so into this?”

“What can I say?” Her fingers slipped between the collar and your neck, “I like it when everyone knows you belong to me.” Your breath hitched as she tugged on the leather, pulling you closer to her, a familiar need beginning to pulse between your legs, “now why don’t you show daddy what gorgeous lingerie you have on under this and get down on your knees like a good little pet?”

You nodded eagerly, quickly slipping the bodysuit off your body, letting it drop to the floor while Emily padded through the room, stripping her own clothing as she went. Her eyes stayed on you, a small smile on her lips as she admired your lingerie, lacy and black to fit the theme, hugging your curves perfectly.

“That looks like my new favourite.” She purred, opening the nightstand drawer to pull out the strap, “how about you get rid of the bra, let me see those gorgeous tits, kitten.”

While you were ridding yourself of accessories, she was adding to her own, a smirk on her lips as she approached you, cock heavy between her legs. Her fingers curled around your cheek, turning your face up to her as her eyes slipped down to admire your half naked frame.

“Just so beautiful.” She winked, the tip of her finger tapping the tip of your nose, “now why don’t you get daddy’s cock nice and wet so I can fuck you so good you forget your own name, hmm?”

“Yes daddy.” The words were out of your mouth before you could even think, sitting up on your knees to brace yourself on her thighs while your lips eagerly wrapped around the tip of the toy.

You bobbed down it, sinking it into the back of your throat in the way Emily absolutely loved, her hips rocking it an inch deeper as she let out a soft groan. Her hand collected your hair, gently wrapping it around her fist while you pulled off her cock, tongue sticking out of your mouth and she chuckled, using her free hand to hit the tip of her dick on your tongue.

“Good girl.”

At the praise you smiled up at her, licking a broad strip up the toy before sucking it back into your mouth, inching down it once again. Emily’s hand tightened in your hair, pushing you down further and setting a faster pace as she continued to fuck into your mouth. You could feel drool pooling in the corners of your mouth and a similar wetness collecting in your panties, rubbing your thighs together in an attempt for some relief. Your mouth sunk down to the base of the toy, pulling a gasp from Emily when the movement nudged it right against her clit. Pushing her cock deeper into your throat you slowly shook your head, shifting it back and fourth and she groaned softly, her hand tugging you off the toy by your hair.

“Are you really that needy tonight kitten?” She asked, a fire behind her eyes and you nodded, chest heaving as you panted for breath.

“Please daddy.”

“Well then get on the bed, hands and knees.” She tugged on your hair, letting it fall from her hands as you stood, watching hungrily as you presented yourself for her. “Always such a good pet, aren’t you.” You felt the bed dip behind you as she climbed onto it, her hands sliding up the back of your thighs, squeezing at the globe of your ass before a hand spanked you and you let out a gasp, feeling the tingle shift from where she’d hit you spark through your body before settling in your pussy. Emily let out a small chuckle, her hands toying with your panties, “yes… I do think you’d look rather spectacular with a tail plugging that pretty ass.” She spanked you again, “for next time I guess.”

“Please…” You whined, pressing your hips back toward her, letting out a moan as her thumb brushed over your tight hole, pressing ever so lightly.

“Don’t worry kitten, daddy will take care of you.”

Her fingers slipped into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs and tossing them aside before she chuckled darkly, her eyes settling on the glistening between your legs. There was no doubt you’d been waiting for this all evening and were absolutely aching for her to fill you up, walls fluttering around nothing as you let out a little whimper. Her hands slid up the backs of your thighs once again, pulling your pussy lips apart so she could admire you, watching the way the soft light made your juices practically sparkle. You dropped down onto your elbows, back arching and she hummed in appreciation as the angle of her view changed to one where she could see more of you, her fingers coming up to toy with your cunt.

“My pretty girl.” She purred, her slicked fingers rubbing up your back before they curled under your collar, “shame we don’t have a leash for you. I know how much you like to be choked.”

“Oh god…” you moaned, your eyes practically rolling back into your head as she tugged at the leather, just imagining how much harder she could be pulling with the extra accessory.

“We’ll make a trip to the toy store this weekend.” Her hand moved to swat at your ass again, “get my pretty kitty whatever she wants.”

You let out a loud gasp when her body rocked forward, cock plunging into you until her hips were crashing into yours, your body shooting forward on the bed.

“Fuck!”

“You can take it.” She groaned, pulling her hips back to admire her cock slicked with your juices before it plunged back into your heat. “This’ll teach you, won’t it?” She set a fast and deep pace, each thrust of her hips driving you forward on the bed, the head of her cock brushing your g-spot, pulling louder and longer moans from you. “No more flirting with silly boys at parties.”

“N-no.” You moaned out, pussy clenching down around her as you began to claw at the bedspread, pleasure surging through your body, your skin already on fire as she continued to fuck you with ease.

“And who does my sweet kitten belong to?” She asked, giving a particularly hard thrust that drove you into the mattress.

“You daddy.”

“That’s my good pet.” Continuing to fuck deeper into you she leant over your body, leaving a handful of kisses across you bare skin. Your body shivered with each touch of her lips, thighs shaking as her hand found its way between them, gently pinching your clit before rubbing it in circles. “I know you’re close princess, you’ve been waiting too long for this. So good for daddy…”

“Fu-uck. Oh fuck!” Your eyes scrunched shut as you felt the coil getting tighter before, “harder!”

Your request was all Emily needed before her hips crashed into yours and you collapsed onto the bed, letting her fuck you into the mattress and her fingers rubbed harder at your throbbing nub. Only a minute later and the dam burst, cries of pleasure escaping your lips to bounce off the bedroom walls, the only accompanying sounds Emily’s pants and sopping sounds from your cunt as you reached your orgasm.

Emily’s thrusts slowed as your body shook beneath her, her hand disappearing from your clit, thumbs rubbing soft circles into your hips as she fucked you through your orgasm.

“That’s my good girl.” She cooed, “always so pretty for me when she comes.”

You let out a whimper in acknowledgement, barely nodding your head and she chuckled, giving you one last hard thrust that you gasped at before she gently pulled out, watching your juices dribble onto the bedspread. She tossed the strap to the side to be dealt with later, crawling over you as her hands soothed across your skin, lips leaving feather light kisses up your spine until she was fully over you, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple that you practically purred at while she untangled the cat ear headband from your hair, gently placing it on the nightstand. She shoved the covers down, rolling onto her back and tucking you into her side as you started to catch your breath, fingers tracing patterns on your bare skin as she pulled the covers back up over the two of you.

Once your breathing was evened out you let out a soft sigh and she smiled, tilting your head up to kiss your lips before her fingers traced the pattern of the leather on your neck, the stone catching in the light.

“We are actually gonna go to the store, right?” You asked with a yawn burrowing deeper into her embrace and she laughed.

“I said, I’ll get you whatever you want kitten.”

“Good.” You grinned, eyes opening to look up at her, “not gonna lie, if I knew this was gonna awaken something in you I wouldn’t have waited until Halloween.”

Emily rolled her eyes, swatting at your ass through the blanket as you laughed, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. Her fingers traced the choker, pinching at the gem, “you like wearing this?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded.

“Should get you something more dainty for everyday wear.”

“I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” She pinched at your chin, “maybe that way you won’t forget whose pet you are again.”

“Definitely not.”

___________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @scorpsik @prentiss-theorem e @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @theclassicgaycousin @regalmilfs4me @kalixxh @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @ratsnestinmyhair @assgardangod @originalbrunettecharacter @elz-artzzz @hopedoesntknow @dj-bynum3718 @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #halloween fic #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss fanfic

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teufelsabbiss · 3 months

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Story-idea: Shen Yuan and his sister transmigrate

There are a lot of good stories already with Shen Yuan transmigrating into a young child that gets adopted by Shen Qingqiu. Most don't account for a glaringly obvious problem in this setup - Shen Qingqiu's hate of men. And I think boys are very much included in that sentiment. So what if Shen Yuan and his meimei transmigrate and she's the reason they get picked up?

Shen Yuan and his sister could have a traffic accident, maybe she's driving him while he's furiously tipping his last hate reply. Both are transmigrated into siblings that are sold to a brothel. Luckily they are both too young to offer full services yet and do chores instead. Shen Yuan doesn't recognize the brothel's name from the book, so he thinks they are at least out of the way of any revenge or wife plots until they can escape. Turns out they won't stay there long enough to even come up with a good plan.

A few days after they were sold, his little sister has to wait on one of the clients. Said client is very displeased to see such a young girl there. To make it worse for the brothel owner, the little Shen sister is very cute and funny and so apparently somehow manages to immediately worm her way into the guys heart and he promptly buys her contract.

He tells her that he has no bad intentions towards her, but will instead take her to his sect to learn cultivation. She doesn't really believe him at first and also refuses to leave without her brother. He's not overly happy that he has to buy a boy as well, but does it readily enough anyway.

Miraculously, after their contracts has changed hands, the brothel owner dies under tragic circumstances. You see, he was killed by a resentful ghost. But luckily the aforementioned client just happens to be a cultivator who was on a mission and just got there on his way back to his sect. And while he was too late to prevent the tragic death, he got rid of the ghost quickly after the murder. Case closed; what a relief for the local authorities! One of the prostitutes is happy to take over the establishment.

The Shen siblings aren't stupid, their new owner obviously murdered the guy and fooled the guards with this bullshit ghost story! No complaints about that, really. It does however also mean that this guy is unscrupulous and it will be more dangerous to get away than before. Learning that the man is actually the scum-villan Shen Qingqiu definitely doesn't make the situation better.

But then they get to Cang Qiong and are officially accepted into Qing Jing peak. The Shen sister immediately becomes good friends with Ning YingYing, who is about the same age as her new body. Which means Luo Binghe isn't there yet and everything awful can still be averted.

I think it would be really funny if the sister got very attached to Shen Qingqiu, who dotes on her as much as Ning YingYing, and Shen Yuan freaking out about this. Not only because he's constantly worrying about her getting molested and she vehemently insisting that's never going to happen, but also! How can his sister like the Scum-Villain of all people in the slightest!!! “Why, meimei? You're usually so clever and perceptive! What's wrong with you?!”

And then one day Luo Binghe joins and the Shen sister is now almost constantly clinging to Shen Qingqiu's skirts and he's not mistreating the protagonist (no matter how much he wants to) because it would upset his little babygirl. Can't have that.

#svsss #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #shen yuan #story idea #writing prompt

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srbachchan · 1 year

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DAY 5532

Jalsa, Mumbai Apr 9/10 , 2023 Sun/Mon 12:19 AM

🪔 .. April 10 .. birthday greetings to Ef Dr. Sunir Kumar .. 🌿and the wishes to you from the Ef family

a Sunday that worked with a vengeance .. to disrupt the norm , when it disrupts you .. a normal tendency .. but never suggested in practical .. practicals bring back memories of School, where the word or the expression was invariably referred to the practicals in the Science Labs .. mixing elements , playing around with gadgetry in the physics lab .. the College routine in continuation and the site one fine day when the last paper for the Graduate degree was over to find some of the classmates celebrating with the pure alcohol , kept in the Lab, for experiments and getting extremely sick .. 😁 .. an act that taught a lesson very early towards the effects or rather the dis effects of the elixir ..

Yes there were a few other instances noticed, in School and in College , when this intoxicant played havoc due to its excess .. and then when in job in the City of Joy, the natural curriculum seemed to be in line with that phrase ‘social drinking’ ..

I shall not deny the consumption of it, but its reason or resolve in leaving for years and years now, I shall not deliberate .. it is a personal choice and demeanour .. yes I do not .. but why the announce of it ..

as is the case with the cigarette .. in abundance in the years of free, and the sudden and immediate resolve to leave it .. and the way to leave is really quite simple .. chuck that glass of the intoxicant , while in the middle of it and crush the ‘ciggi’ on your lips at the same time and .. sayonara .. the very best way to be in riddance .. not some part time exigencies to stop the use .. its the removal of the cancer at once .. done at the rush of a stroke .. the more the dwindling , the greater the undesired habit of remaining ..

.. and they ask me .. why the bare feet ..

why ?

why is it not asked why the shoe or covered feet .. ?

protection I assume they would revert .. but bare ..

I have it - closer to the Earth .. in its touch , in its feel .. Earth , the reason why this Universe exists .. for us at least .. in time it may be referred to in the past .. who knows ..

there is something about the seat of the desk that surrounds itself with all that is needed, within hands reach .. there may be the desire to dump our fatigue and disappear .. but the moment the hour approaches the symbiosis awakens and lends its presence to the Universe ..

.. what shall be written to attract the Ef, is the issue .. but on seating itself, the words tumble out much like the antagonising locale for the next season .. if ever there is one ..

tumble out .. pun never intended , but filled up the mind and space .. quite obviously when the Tumblr., doth play games with most and the complaints be filed against it ..

do not allow me the permitted privilege of opinion .. it ops out in various nefarious forms, to destroy and rewind the powers that stipulate conversation to be put on the mat with the heaviest , and allowed to breathe through the remaining openings of the body .. the ‘dashadwar’ .. the ‘dash’ .. the ten openings in the body ..

when you look forward to the day year event happening .. it goes beyond the happening .. be in the silence of time and listen , it shall tell you when and how and where ..

Amitabh Bachchan

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

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Hey, may I ask what you thought of how they dealt with Rollo in the end? I heard that he doesn't really get punished and I'm confused about why that is since he posed such a threat to all of Twst Wndrlnd

I’ve actually received several similar asks about this matter, so I’d like to analyze the ending here. (This is coming out a few months after the event because I kept going back to add thoughts and revise large parts of this post.)

I’ll look at some of the common points brought up as to why some felt that the conclusion was not satisfying, then give my thoughts on them and discuss Rollo’s fate in detail.

***Spoilers ahead!!***

Mmm, I feel like I’ve seen similar complaints (about how the main conflict was resolved) floating around in the fandom. I’ve seen a number of fans express upset with this conclusion, most often citing that “Rollo got off too easy” and “his punishment should have been worse”. Some people have even stated they wanted Rollo arrested and/or extreme physical violence to be enacted on him (Malleus killing Rollo and/or the NRC boys beating him up badly).

Firstly, this is nothing new for how TWST typically deals with resolutions of massive conflicts and characters with deep trauma. Every single one of the OB boys also got let off relatively scot-free despite also putting others in grave danger. From a meta perspective, this makes sense. TWST has always been and always will be a game that asks us to empathize with villains, to show us that behind every evil, there is a chance to be good--and by offering them the chance to repent and to reflect, they can rehabilitate on their own terms.

I feel that a lot of this demand for “more” in Rollo’s case stems from a fundamental difference between him and the OB boys (who are also largely forgiven and let off with a slap on the wrist for their actions). This, of course, is that Rollo’s plans were far greater in scale and had immediate consequences on a larger population than any OB would. By all metrics, Rollo has done “worse”, and thus should warrant a “worse” punishment than being forced to play in a Magift tournament or being forced to perform onstage after taking substantial damage (ie as were the cases for Leona, Vil, etc.) in the eyes of some fans.

While I do agree that what Rollo did was deplorable and that he got off lightly compared to the gravity of his crimes, I don’t think that he deserves “more” of a punishment, and certainly not anything close to physical harm. Like... realistically, what would inflicting physical harm onto Rollo do for anyone? Catharsis? That’s but a temporary emotional release for the ones inflicting the pain, and it ultimately doesn’t do anything meaningful. That’s just an “easy” solution that doesn’t actually solve the core problem. If Rollo is kicked while he’s down, won’t that just make him double down on his ideals? And if he gets slain, that’s just an “easy” way out so the NRC students don’t actually have to deal with others of dubious morals existing in their world. Their group includes several people who were shown mercy at their worst moments (Riddle, Jamil, Azul, Idia), and to refuse Rollo the same would make them massive hypocrites.

Violence aside, there’s also significant disappointment that Rollo’s actions are being kept a secret, so that the public cannot hold him accountable for what he has done. The very minimum some fans wanted was for the City of Flowers locals and/or NBC students to become aware of Rollo’s true nature, and thus turn on him for it. This is very similar to Vil’s OB in episode 5, when he comes close to revealing his unsightly self to the public and risks tarnishing his public image. Again, I feel that Rollo isn’t extended the same courtesy because of the scale of his ambitions, but also because he doesn’t automatically express remorse for what he did (whereas Vil apologizes so many times over). What we need to keep in mind is that characters are different from one another, so what is seen as awful and world-ending is not the same for one character as it is to another. In my opinion, THIS is what makes the conclusion to Glorious Masquerade so fitting.

I want to point out here that in choosing to not expose Rollo or to beat up/kill him, it doesn’t mean the NRC boys entirely forgive him or that they aren’t holding him accountable for his actions. They call Rollo out several times throughout the climax and falling action, telling him how deplorable he is and how he’s endangering so many lives in the process of pursuing his “justice”. How they ultimately choose to deal with him is an extension of that, but it doesn’t involve needless violence.

Rollo’s punishment is a personalized hell in HIS eyes, even if we, the audience, don’t see it that way and call for “more” justice. Just because his punishment isn’t immediately tangible or isn’t recognized by a large population doesn’t make it any less of one, and this shouldn’t be underestimated. To “punish” does not necessarily mean its easy to see, it just means that it is substantially punishing to the one receiving it. That alone is enough, and it is something that is acknowledged by both the NRC boys and Rollo himself.

After Rollo is defeated, he knows that he will inevitably receive the consequences for what he has done. He tells the NRC boys to punish him, take him to the authorities, to basically do whatever they see fit to him, and he will accept it without resistance. Rollo expects ruthlessness, that he will not be granted any sort of forgiveness. Why is that? Because Rollo is ruthless with himself, and he expects the world and the other people in it to act no differently towards him. It’s not that Rollo has automatically realized the error of his ways, but that he is, as his mob students describe him, “hard on others and hard on himself”. Rollo has ultimately failed to accomplish his goal, and he believes he must be punished for this failure.

But, much to Rollo’s surprise, that isn’t what he gets. Malleus and co. lead him down the bell tower, and when they run into NBC’s vice president and student council aide, they show that they were worried for him. Rollo tries to explain to what happened to them. However, Malleus cuts him off and claims that they don’t know how the crimson flowers even started growing and overtaking the school and the city to begin with. Idia and Azul chime in, giving vague details like that Rollo was already up the bell tower before they were, and they allow the NBC mob students to make their own assumptions about what happened. Because the mob students revere Rollo so much, they come to the conclusion that he was a selfless hero and worked with the NRC students to save the day, then praise him for his heroism and emphasize just how proud they are of him. They even say Rollo is like the Just Judge of legend, someone that we know Rollo admires.

And the twisted thing about all of this is that the NRC boys just purposefully never bother correcting them. At this point, neither can Rollo. The mobs have piled on so much praise, have expressed so much concern for their president's safety, so how would they feel to have all of that hope and happiness come crashing down on them? What would happen if those feelings turned into betrayal and hurt? It is these types of questions that speaks to the true gravity of Rollo's "punishment".

He at first accuses the NRC boys of hiding the truth because they pity him, and he's insulted by the perceived pity. However, as Azul explains, it is not pity. Malleus and the others will allow Rollo to confess to his sins or pretend like nothing happened. In fact, it is the perfect punishment for someone like Rollo, someone who is so hard on themselves and cannot come to terms with the truth of his own insecurities. Rollo doesn't seem to realize it right away, so he instead grows cocky and says it's basically the same as him being absolved. On the contrary, as Malleus points out, while lying to himself will make it easier for him to deceive others, Rollo cannot lie to the Bell of Salvation--a precious magical artifact which Rollo has been tending to for some time now, the one thing that watches over everything in the City of Flowers, and the object used by Rollo to sow cataclysm.

It is the bell's eyes which bring Rollo to his senses and makes him realize how insidious the NRC boys truly are. In leaving him to his own devices, knowing that the Bell knows the truth while others continue to praise him for what are ultimately lies will plague him with never-ending guilt and remorse. Even if Rollo doesn't automatically acknowledge those feelings, there will still always be an unconscious part of him that does--must like how there's a part of him that seeks salvation for others as an unspoken excuse to seek salvation for himself. He calls others monsters, but does not look in the mirror and see himself for the monster that he is. The problem with Rollo is that he deflects and blames others rather than accepting his share of the responsibility for tragedies, and so forcing him into a situation where he is forced to confront his role in committing great evil or live every day with that burden, is his own living hell. Rollo says it himself: the "villains" of NRC are well-versed in "tormenting" people.

Living on with the weight of his sins is literally a fate WORSE than death for Rollo specifically. He is someone who has had a history of internalizing guilt already (as is evident in his motivations and backstory), so this is where it will hurt him most. Rollo has to go around every day with full awareness of what he did, and knowing that if it were to ever get out, he’d likely be seen completely differently by his peers, maybe even become a social pariah. And that’s the point. In realizing that others will judge him differently when they know of his “true” self, Rollo has the chance to see his own rights as “wrong”. He is being left with himself and his festering thoughts, with his sin–something he can never, EVER be rid of. Every day, he will pass by the statue of the Just Judge, an admirable role model for justice, a figure whom others believe you live up to, knowing he has buried his own sins that the Judge would have wished eradicated. Every day, those intense feelings of guilt, shame, and regret will be with him, eating away at him, and Rollo will suffer immensely as a result. “There is nothing that would torment Flamme more than this, correct?” Malleus says. Rollo himself also acknowledges that this would make him suffer; both parties are confessing that this is the best course of recompense for Rollo.

This is a slightly different scenario than other serious situations kept hidden from the public, such as Jamil and Vil's Overblots. In those cases, their OBs were not kept secret in order to punish them, but rather to shield their families and/or the public from the knowledge that they had lost themselves. Unlike Jamil and Vil, Rollo ISN'T worried about how his actions may impact others, and he isn't remorseful or apologetic, because he still refuses to see he is wrong and refuses to change. When faced with this stubbornness, the NRC students have chosen to make him "look in a mirror" first. That is a process that will bring him great pain in the actual setting of the world and its story--but at the same time, it does a favor for the fans by offering Rollo a chance at redemption, much like the OB boys have.

From another angle, this is also the oddly kind thing to do in regards to those in Rollo’s life. No one has to suffer with the knowledge that their “golden boy” has committed a grave sin well, except that one gargoyle. They can keep living on in blissful ignorance... and thus put further strain on Rollo mentally, who will face his punishment ALONE, just as he did when lashing out at all magicians. This is something that Idia points out: that Rollo is allowed to be upset, that he is allowed to rampage, but that he shouldn’t hurt others or get them involved with his own rage. And now, like he did with his crimson flower plot, Rollo is alone in the aftermath.

In another way, this fate is a cool parallel because of Rollo being twisted from Frollo. If you watch the opening to the Hunchback of Notre Dame movie, Frollo comes close to killing baby Quasimodo because he is so repulsed by his deformed appearance. However, as another character points out to Frollo in that scene, he can never “hide from the eyes of Notre Dame”. This prompts Frollo to take notice of all of the statues surrounding him, their stone eyes staring and silently judging him. It is this that ultimately makes Frollo change his mind about killing Quasimodo, instead choosing to raise him as his own son and bellringer. In Rollo’s case, this is also true. In the NRC boys granting him his freedom and keeping his actions a secret, Rollo will never be able to escape “the eyes of Notre Dame”/the Bell of Salvation. Every person’s wide-eyed, innocent stare or respectful reverence cast upon Rollo will make him recognize he’s living a lie, and it will only intensify his guilt… and guilt, as we’ve already seen with how Rollo coped with the loss of his brother, can eat a man from the inside out.

“What [he] wants to save is not his brother or the world... but himself,” Idia states atop the bell tower--and by refusing this “salvation” to Rollo, who believed so desperately that he is not the villain of this story, he will never be liberated. And if he doesn’t believe with all his heart that everyone else are the villains and he is the hero, “he wouldn’t be able to live with himself”, as Azul puts it. It’s eternal damnation for Rollo—at the hands of his own inner demons.

Later on in the event, we get little hints that maybe Rollo is starting to accept some responsibility for the chaos he has caused (albeit in very small ways), or at least he's conflicted about it. For example, he insists on preparing the venue for the masquerade all by himself, which the NRC boys debate if he's doing to atone or to save face and avoid asking the mages he despises for assistance. No matter the reasoning, the task must be difficult to complete by one person, especially considering Rollo's injuries. Would he allow himself to use magic for such a task?? If he doesn't permit himself this luxury, then it makes the preparations even harder--and yet he somehow still managed to pull it off. This subtly says a lot about how hard he works, but also speaks to his pride and stubbornness.

Rollo gives a speech to those in attendance at the masquerade to address the strange happenings of the night. This is something which Sebek calls out as audacious, as Rollo was the cause of those events to begin with. To this, Azul commends Rollo for his mental fortitude, pointing out that even though Rollo must be extremely conflicted inside, he is hiding the truth of the matter to the public very well. I imagine that these conflicted feelings only ramp up when the NRC boys, whom Rollo has perceived as villains the entirety of the event, present him with a gift that he calls wonderful: performing the Gentle Bell Ringer's song, and singing of hope for the future, something relatable and encouraging in the aftermath of a great disaster. He tries to insult it, calls it a waste of time--but in the end, he goes quiet, moved by the song in spite of himself.

It all culminates in Malleus--the embodiment of magic that Rollo despises--asking to share a dance with him, the one that sought his destruction. During their dance, Rollo swears that he has not given up yet, and that he will never see eye-to-eye with mages. He's still deeply ingrained in his own mindset--but as we've seen with how he reacted to the song and how the NRC boys disagree with how Rollo must be feeling in the moment, the seeds of conflict have been strewn in him. It will take some time before they take root and blossom, but the fact is that his punishment (and, subsequently, his change) has only just scarcely begun.

So ends the Glorious Masquerade, with Rollo sentenced to a fitting end. ***Note: One part of Rollo's punishment that isn't mentioned in a lot of discussions is that Trein has stated he will be in contact with the school board and keeping a close eye on Rollo; this detail is only supplemental to everything else, much like how the dorm members of the OB boys try to offer better social support after the OB incidents, but I thought I should also bring this up.***

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Rollo Flamme #twst analysis #twisted wonderland analysis #twst character analysis #twisted wonderland character analysis #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #question #notes from the writing raven #Idia Shroud #Azul Ashengrotto #Rollo Flamm #Frollo #Quasimodo #The Hunchback of Notre Dame #Mozus Trein

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timemachineyeah · 3 months

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Please disregard if there's no way to answer this without it being invasive but... re: your recent post about your job supporting your fatigue and disabilities... would you mind saying what industry it is? I have a friend with disability/chronic debilitating illness who is trying to figure out how to envision a working life while managing ongoing pain, surgeries, fatigue, etc., and I think he despairs of any place ever being willing to accommodate him for a few hours a week. We google things plenty, but the difference between a helpful listicle and a real person's anecdote is everything.

sure. my job is kind of niche so I don’t know how easy it would be to go hunting for it specifically, and I do kinda worry about giving its title since afaict only one company uses it (though more than one does this same basic thing) and my job is very regional, but maybe describing it would help you somehow

basically I work for an archive / news service. technically, I’m a journalist, but realistically what I do is more akin to gophering and data entry. I work three days a week - two short days in my county and one long one in one of the neighboring counties. on days when I leave the county I get hours for my driving time and miles reimbursed.

I don’t get a lot of flexibility on how many days I work, but when I started the job I got to pick which three days I would work, so got to decide whether one long rest or two short rests would suit me better. On the days I work I have a deadline (5pm) but can work whenever I want to meet that deadline. Sometimes it’s 9am - 11am and other times it’s 1pm - 3pm. Sometimes there’s no new cases and work is 20 minutes from my couch.

And basically what I do is compile a list of potentially interesting lawsuits filed in the county, go to the relevant courthouse to read the actual legal complaint, summarize and log the ones that meet certain criteria in a simple sentence, and get scans of ones that meet even stricter criteria to upload to our archive, all of which gets sent out to our subscribers on mailing lists.

Then, journalists and lawyers pay to get these updates or access these databases for their own reporting or research. I often know local headlines a few days to a couple weeks early because I was the one reading the source material.

I work an average of 7 hours a week. My short days are usually an hour or two. My long day is 3-7 hours depending on which county I’m going to and how unique or complicated the filed cases are. It does not take long to do the actual work. Most of my hours come from driving rural highways and listening to podcasts.

It’s the kind of job there’s not a lot of. But while it’s the best I’ve found, I’ve found very part time work with lenient employers before. It is possible. You just gotta be specific about it.

I will say, while most jobs are not looking for employees that part time, those that are will thrilled to hear that’s enough hours for you. Employers who need one specific skilled task that only takes 7 hours a week often struggle with retention because, well, how many people are gonna take that as a stop gap until they get more full time work? And then all the rest are likely to be disabled people like me, who have retention issues for reasons of health. That being said I’ve worked this job for years now, and I’m not letting it go without, like, some other better guarantee. Because while I’m happy to provide hope that these jobs do exist, it is also true that they’re tough to find.

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day-at-rhodes-island · 6 months

Text

Why I'm not a fan of the seaborn: complaint 2. This is definitely the less important issue, but I'm not going to let that stop me.

Before I get into it: I am currently doing real studies with evolutionary modeling, like publishable academic stuff, so I know what I'm talking about.

Evolution cannot happen to an individual creature. Ever. Pokemon lied to you. Evolution is the gradual change of gene frequencies in a population over time due to natural selection. Anything else is not evolution (in the context of biology). Whatever the endspeaker is doing is not evolving... unless it is.

One of the very few ways what we see might actually be evolution is if the seaborn are actually a symbiotic microorganism with a very short life cycle which can rearrange the cells of it's host (sort of like the Thing from The Thing). This would explain how so many things with radically different structures can be considered the seaborn, and it also quite handily explains how people can become seaborn. This headcanon alone allows me some relief from these fucking things.

For this next bit I'm going to put aside the fact that they can somehow just create meat when they need more, because if I account for that the "evolutionary" pathway they take makes even less sense.

So let's actually apply the concept of natural selection to the sea terrors shall we? To start off I would like to address the fact that the AEgirians didn't use their advanced technology to fight these things, because the seaborn would then evolve to that level and become unstoppable. That is not how this works.

Do you know what happens if you shoot a fish with a laser cannon? I'll give you a hint: it doesn't grow a laser cannon. Natural selection doesn't produce "better" gene frequencies, major negative traits disappear first and optimization or the emergence of new beneficial traits happens slowly afterwards.

The scenario is they are invading another creature's niche, and that creature is very effectively fighting back. So, which strategy is more likely to get you removed from the gene pool: continuing to push into enemy territory but with slightly better armor, or just staying the fuck away from the people with laser cannons? Evolution always takes the easy way out, not the best way, the easy way. Want to know why every terrestrial vertebrate has 4 limbs? Something crawled out of the ocean with four limbs, and it was simpler to move those ones around than make new ones.

Would the fish growing a laser cannon help them take over new environments, thus out-competing the ones who just stayed away? Sure, but there's no easy path to get there, so they would never get the chance to reach that point. (When talking about genetic algorithms, this is called a local maxima, look it up!)

In even a mildly realistic scenario of creatures like this actually being driven by natural selection, the situation would become a case of dealing with an exceptionally dangerous invasive species, rather than an existential threat to all other forms of life. As per my opinion in part 1, this would have been better.

The seaborn are presented as this purely natural selection driven menace, when in reality they're just the evil army of an ocean god-monster. The driving will to consume all other forms of life isn't natural selection talking, it's at best an excuse Ishar'mla uses so that He can get what He wants, and at worst a case of the writers genuinely trying to write a natural selection driven antagonist, assuming they understand the concept, and not bothering to check if they are right. And it really looks to me like the second one is more likely.

All they had to do was not make them the focus, not make them an existential threat. You can still do the themes of individuality vs conformity with a smaller-scale hive mind. You don't need another planetary-scale environmental threat, you have originium! I could forgive the poorly applied scientific principles, if they weren't such a mess narratively as well. If they had taken this approach the seaborn might have even been one of my favorite parts of this game (they have actually hinted at the possibility of the seaborn deciding that coexistence is actually the best survival strategy, and that would be super cool!). Unfortunately, as it is, the seaborn are bad.

Part 1

#all of this is me being VERY generous about letting science issues slide by the way #I didn't even mention energy expenditure #arknights #seaborn #ramblings

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heliopauseentertainments · 1 year

Text

#1 Fan

For @ariesnhope for the MegOp gift exchange.

Continuity: IDW1 Rating: Teen Relationship: Megatron/Optimus Prime (Orion Pax) Characters: Optimus Prime (Orion Pax), Megatron, Springarm Warnings: Suggestive themes, functionist politics

Summary: In which Orion Pax meets with Megatron over poetry and decides it’s time to make a change.

Crossposting: AO3 | DreamWidth

Fic under the cut

One of his staffers handed him a datapad partway through the morning, something he “ought to see” apparently.

A good way to pass the time on a rare slow day in Rodion, he thought.

Orion turned the datapad over in his hand as he sat at the desk. The dark gray casing was heavily scuffed and pitted, worn through either extensive use or carelessness. It was difficult to tell. The glass of the screen was scratched.

“Where was this found?”

Springarm checked his notes, his fingers swiping across the screen of his own cheap department-issued datapad.

“In an inmate’s subspace during intake.”

A usual place to find all manner of things, but so what?

“Sure, but why do I need to see it?”

Orion tilted his head to side, wanting to see if Springarm had more information for him.

And, sure enough, after another few swipes of his finger, he did. Springarm was nothing if not reliably thorough.

“It’s not the first one of these we’ve found, sir. Appears to be samizdat poetry.”

“Underground poetry clubs are nothing new, Springarm.” Orion slowly waved the confiscated datapad at his subordinate. “That’s hardly a threat to public safety, you know. It’s barely illegal.”

“But it is illegal, sir.”

Very technically and only because the Functionist Council had petitioned the Senate ages ago to require all legal artistic endeavors to be approved by local council chapters. Springarm had always tended towards the “letter of the law” methodology, so his concerns came as little surprise.

“Alright, I’ll take a look at it for you, screen it for any dangerous content,” he said, clicking the datapad on. The scratched screen glowed unevenly, the light refracting off the tiny planes of imperfections. “But once I’ve cleared this, I want you to return this to the inmate.”

Springarm nodded before giving a brisk salute.

“Understood, sir!”

And then Orion was alone, his subordinate returning to work at the intake desk.

Now… to see what was so dangerous about some words.

Orion hadn’t expected to spend his entire shift reading.

Not a datapad of confiscated poetry anyway.

The datapad had turned out to contain an entire anthology of poetic works in various styles, numerous tones and moods from pensive to melancholy, inspirational to romantic (and bordering sometimes on the erotic). This had clearly been assembled over the course of years before being discreetly disseminated amongst the populace.

Some pieces were clearly attempts at something new, some were desperate attempts to pull thoughts and feelings from the poet’s processor into the imperfect, blunt tool of language. Some pieces were infectious, the turns of phrase and wording digging into his processor and refusing to leave.

Sure, there were also pieces with notes of political subversion, but that was hardly worth banning the entire work.

Everyone had criticisms of the system. A few complaints here and there didn’t equate to outright seditious activity. Orion saw no problem having Springarm return this to the inmate it came from and “looking the other way” on it.

At the end of the day, there were far greater threats to society than a little avant-garde quasi-political art.

There was something oddly familiar about the writing though, something he could have sworn he had seen before somewhere, but where?

However, once Orion had started reading, he had been unable to put it down—His office’s door opened, a member of the night shift—whose name Orion couldn’t immediately recall—standing in the opening with a surprised look on his face and a report to drop off in his hand.

Oh.

Shift change already?

Orion glanced at the chronometer on his desk, only to see it flashing an embarrassingly late hour.

He was usually out hours ago.

Dammit.

“Oh, I didn’t realize how late it’s gotten. I was just doing some overtime to get caught up on reports. You know how it is.” He laughed awkwardly before getting up. “They never end!”

Orion stuffed the datapad in his subspace without thinking, squeezing past the night shift officer, and left before his half-sparked fib could be seen through.

Strictly, he shouldn’t have taken the confiscated item from the station, but it wasn’t an emergency. Orion would just bring it back with him tomorrow and no one would be the wiser.

And he could finish reading the collection at home.

Orion shouldn’t have made a duplicate copy of that datapad. It strictly continued as “production of illegal materials” and he knew Springarm would never let him hear the end of it if he found out.

All the same, while Orion wanted to return the datapad to the inmate it had come from, he didn’t want to be apart from the words that had been on it.

The poet’s words still swirled in his thoughts, the nagging feeling of familiarity interrupting him as he went about his daily business.

Petty theft of fuel was up, according to the report he was currently reading.

The desperate take what should be freely given.

Even more than a week after giving the original, practically trashed datapad back to Springarm, little lines, turns of phrase especially those from the free verse, would interrupt his work.

The powerful are freely given what should be taken.

An understandable complaint from castes lower down in the taxonomy who perceived their placement as unjust—he had even heard such sentiments from his senator friend, Shockwave—but the shape and melody of the words needled at his processor while reading case reports.

It was difficult to work like this.

The reports were set aside before he leaned his elbows on the desk and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Stone steps worn into an undulating slope by millions of passing feet.

Other bits of verse, disconnected snippets, floated to the top of his processor now that work was no longer trying to dominate his mind.

“What is the night sky?”

Asked the apprentices shy.

“Dark and empty,” came the answer wise.

“For the stars have fled their palace bright to instead reside in your eyes.”

As the words flitted about his processor, teasing him and demanding his attention, Orion knew he had to find the poet, to thank them, to tell them how moved he was by their creations. The mixture of feelings stirred up by the verse threatened to burst if he didn’t somehow vent them.

Orion needed to find the poet’s identity.

Certainly not because of lines about “rough yet tender hands on desperate arrays.”

Though that line—and several others like it—had certainly kept him warm the previous night while lying awake on the recharge slab and had decidedly given his own hand some ideas.

He pulled up the console on his desk and launched one of the databases his department used to keep track of civilians who had interactions with the local police.

While looking in the dossiers on file wasn’t the obvious next step, Orion had a hunch that the clue would be here somewhere. Given some of the political comments in the poetry—including some that were not particularly flattering towards law enforcement—Orion wondered if perhaps the author had maybe had a run-in with local authorities before.

Sure, there was no guarantee that the author had ever been to Rodion before or interacted with Rodion law enforcement but it was as good of a first step as any, he supposed. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to poke around in the files flagged with “political dissident” or “potential political dissident” to try and jog his memory.

After putting the parameters into the database, he ran the search.

Names populated the screen, a rapidly expanding list of local nuisances and loudmouths and extremists.

Of course, the list of names was massive. Rodion—and the Dead End, by extension—was a notorious hub of crime and misery that Orion had spent years trying to clean up.

Orion needed to narrow it down somehow. It wasn’t like they listed poets specifically, that wasn’t a real profession, just a questionable hobby.

Ah.

Wait.

Maybe he could make a guess based on the contents of the anthology.

There had been many references to hard labor. The author was most likely manual class, yes. Good. A good search restriction that should get him closer to any possible matches.

Orion adjusted the parameters and got an even smaller but still daunting list.

Not specific enough.

One verse came to mind.

The sun and its dance is for everyone, they say.

Every mech of every class and every pay.

Forgotten when the oft-cited idiom comes around,

“Our” beautiful sun sets only aboveground.

That still seemed like a political indictment, but paired with the genuine longing to see the sun.

Other pieces contained allusions to stone, very specific comments about mineral types… images of Functionism “bleeding the landscape dry.”

Miner, or mining industry adjacent. Not a perfect elimination since Rodion sat on active mineshafts.

Bingo.

A relatively short list after Orion excluded anyone he knew specifically that wouldn’t be the sort to write lines like those that had captured his imagination.

One name immediately popped out to him.

Megatron of Tarn, a known activist and polemicist who had been arrested a number of weeks ago on charges of disorderly conduct and assault in the local oil house before being released with the charges dropped. Lack of evidence and the brief investigation had made it abundantly clear that Megatron had been a noncombatant in the bar fight.

However, some political writings had been confiscated from Megatron at intake. Orion had looked through them back then before handing the documents back.

Now, he regretted not having made a copy at the time. He hadn’t wanted to unnecessarily create further evidence for a first-time offender, especially a nonviolent one with bad luck and worse friends. Megatron’s own words even preached peace.

Of course, Orion couldn’t believe everything he read, but his gut instinct had told him to let it go.

However, what Orion remembered of the draft work reminded him somewhat of the poetry in the anthology, certain word choices, certain images… including a particular disdain for drills as tools of oppression, even. The chief difference between the texts, aside from genre, had been the tone and forcefulness of the narrative voice. Besides, it would hardly be a leap for a political writer to also branch out into other language arts… or perhaps the other way around. Orion couldn’t be sure which genre came first.

He sat back in his chair, slumping down as the mugshot and demographic details glowed on the screen of his console.

Orion was a little ashamed he hadn’t noticed the similarities before.

Not only did he now know who the poet was, despite the absolute long-shot of a search that had been, Orion also knew how to contact him.

Strictly, he shouldn’t have been using police resources for personal gain, but he was already in this deep. Might as well.

Megatron laid down on the meager recharge slab in his dormitory, staring at the rough metal ceiling. His chronometer said it was the middle of the day, given his long-standing night shift assignment, but it didn’t seem to mean anything. Night and day were the same when everything was either dark or lit by flickering headlights and lamps.

He ought to sleep, but ever since the incident with Impactor in the bar, he’d been having difficulty resting without his roommate being crude and loud. The miners’ barracks had been far too quiet since Impactor had been imprisoned.

Who knew how long Impactor would be there? There wasn’t even a trial date yet.

Not that it mattered. The outcome was a foregone conclusion.

Megatron supposed he ought to be used to it by now. It was hardly any different than when Terminus had been taken away, though through systemic apathy rather than systemic prejudice.

A knock at the door jarred him out of his thoughts.

When he answered it, a company courier wordlessly shoved a nondescript datapad into his hands before walking off.

The company couriers never even bothered to check they were delivering to the right person since they knew most mechs on sight, but—Megatron turned the datapad over his in hands, still standing in the open doorway.

He never got mail. Only Impactor did and even then it was less “mail” and more… written copies of whatever reprimands he’d received verbally earlier in the week.

No return address or name, just a preprinted label with his name, bunk number, and the mining project’s address. The courier definitely hadn’t been mistaken.

This still didn’t look right.

This datapad was also of a nicer quality than any he had been allowed to handle before. Even Impactor’s reprimands were on flimsier files because the government-subsidized company they had been assigned were addicted to “cost-saving measures.”

“Dear Megaton—“ His name was misspelled again. “—of Tarn. I’ve gone out of my way to contact you about some of your creative pursuits. I’ve managed to get my hands on a copy of a collection of your poetry and—“

Megatron froze.

Oh.

Oh no.

Someone had found him out. Someone knew he was writing illegal poetry, somehow.

How, however, he had no idea. He had never published or circulated any beyond showing his progress to Terminus, once upon a time, or Impactor, who had always laughed at him for being too soft at spark.

Now this random stranger was going to blackmail him for something on the threat of turning him in—Oh. Wait.

He read past the first few lines of the letter.

No. No threats of blackmail.

Only glowing praise.

And no name at the end. Just… signed “a fan of your work” and a postal box in Rodion to send a reply to.

This was fan mail.

That was worse.

There was no way anyone could really enjoy his work, not like that. His work was amateur since it wasn’t licensed or approved by the Functionist Council. He had neither been afforded the option of much formal education beyond the minimal “culture” packets that had been part of his brief post-construction instruction, nor would the contents of his work have passed the censors.

There was no way he could answer this. It was undoubtedly bait.

The letter itself was already too much evidence. No one could find this.

Glancing up and down the hallway outside of his empty dormitory, Megatron double-checked that no one had seen him before tossing the datapad into his subspace.

The first letter had found its way into one of the smelters, one of the surest places to dispose of evidence. A brief, mad thought of tossing his poetry and the drafts of his polemics also crossed his mind. Luckily, a calm, rational subroutine overtook the urge, reminding him that those were the few things in life that were his, not beholden to his assigned station in life.

After throwing it in, Megatron had decided to go about his life, pretending that he had never been contacted, that it had been nothing but a bad dream.

Just a bad dream, something to let fade into the oblivion of fragmented memories.

Destroying the datapad would be the end of it.

Or so he thought.

One day when Megatron returned to his lonely dormitory—the new roommate he’d been assigned after Impactor had been formally fired was working the opposite shift as him—there was a datapad on the small table.

Identical in make and model to the one he had destroyed several weeks prior.

“Megatron,” it opened, using the correct spelling this time. “I realized that I misspelled your name on the last letter and I must apologize. I understand if you took offense and that’s why you didn’t reply back.”

What… an odd letter. This didn’t seem threatening, but then again, neither had the text of the other one.

“The last letter was probably too forward. Please don’t be alarmed.”

There was nothing comforting about the sentence “please don’t be alarmed,” but Megatron kept reading all the same.

“If you’re not opposed, I would like to meet you in person over a warm cup of fuel.”

An obvious attempt to draw him out into public.

Absolutely not. Even showing up would be as good as admitting to his petty crimes. If he were a higher status mech, that wouldn’t have mattered. Authorities would simply look the other way, but for someone like him?

So far down on the food chain that his original life expectancy had been 500,000 years? He was already more than double that and had outlived his usefulness—

That was just it.

He had outlived his usefulness and his few friends were long gone. What did he have left to lose? He had been removed from the company’s repair and maintenance budgets ages ago after reaching his warranty.

His work had already breached containment and leaked out somewhere. It could never be fully destroyed now if something happened to him.

And the thought, the naive, hopeful thought, that someone genuinely enjoyed his work made his spark swell with warmth and pride. The thought that someone would notice him….

Megatron scrambled for a spare datapad and light-pen.

Orion was surprised to receive a letter back at the postal box. He had well and truly though that he’d scared Megatron off after hearing nothing back for so long. Either that, or he just had the absolute worst luck with the postal service losing his letters on the way.

After the initial surprise wore off, a warm joy spurred his steps as he retreated to his personal quarters in Rodion to read the answer. It wouldn’t do to read this sort of letter in public, especially given that he would be acknowledging and “condoning” technically illegal behavior.

As soon as the door was shut behind him, Orion leaned back against the door and booted up the cheap, single use datapad.

It was likely all Megatron could get his hands on, but Orion had no complaints. It was everything he had been waiting for.

There was no return name or address, but who else could have sent him something at this postal box? He had only gotten it to accept just such a letter from Megatron specifically. He’d given its number to no one else.

The text of the letter was hastily handwritten, like the author couldn’t wait for the legibility correction algorithm to run and convert the text into the standard font format.

Or maybe this datapad was too low of a quality to even come with that functionality.

Regardless, Orion was grateful for it, seeing the curves and messy lines of impatient, desperate thought poured at speed onto the screen.

The writer of the letter apologized for the delay, having believed that Orion’s letters were either bait for entrapment by the police—ouch—or a scam to blackmail him.

Ah.

That had been Orion’s fault, he would concede. He had been wondering if he’d somehow offended Megatron but that wasn’t a method of offense he had considered.

He hadn’t necessarily considered all of the potential nuance that might have unwittingly accompanied his letters.

Megatron’s letter continued, explaining that while he would like to meet, the authorities could still be a threat, even if he doesn’t necessarily do anything illegal. He had seen… things happen to his colleagues over the years. Walking in the wrong part of town or not showing sufficient deference.

And, Orion realized, Megatron really didn’t know anything about Orion’s identity. He was being very trusting and… the sudden realization of the gravity of power that Orion had in this situation had him sliding to the floor, back still pressed to the locked door.

Megatron was afraid of what could happen if his work ended up in the wrong hands or if the wrong person knew.

And Orion was poised to be either that very wrong person, doing exactly what Megatron feared, or … he could do something about it.

Something that could help Megatron and other underprivileged artists, unjustly suppressed by an overly strict theocratic institution.

Orion had always enjoyed his work, when he had thought he was helping people, but the more he looked at it all, the more the verses longing for freedom echoed in his thoughts. Disappointment, cold and heavy, sat in his fuel tank, pinning him where he sat.

Perhaps he hadn’t been helping after all.

But that could change.

He could change.

The disappointment morphed into a hot anger, ignited by the words he had seen on the writings confiscated when Megatron had been unnecessarily arrested.

Powerful, damning questions to ask the Senate.

Questions Orion would ask the Senate. As a respected officer of the law, he would be permitted to stand before them long enough for that at least.

It would cost him his post, his reputation, but resignation letters were, of course, best delivered in person.

First, however, he wanted to see Megatron.

Megatron wasn’t sure what his “biggest fan” looked like, only that he would be here in a quiet, upscale café in Rodion.

It was uncomfortable waiting in a corner booth, feeling very much like he didn’t belong, with the hazard stripes required of his class being a loud visual reminder to all of the patrons and staff.

He hunched forward, trying to make himself small over the expensive, yet simple warm, flavored fuel he’d ordered to be allowed to stay. It had been the cheapest thing on the menu, but it had cost him worth two weeks of pay, all for something that would hardly fuel him for a quarter of a day.

The anxiety in the back of his mind tried to remind him that this was probably a trick, that he would be arrested, or someone was playing a cruel prank on him. It waged war with the bright hope of maybe making a genuine connection with someone about something that meant so much to him, something he had always wanted.

A shadow fell over his table.

“Excuse me.”

Megatron had heard that voice before somewhere. He looked up, spotting the bright red plating and blue headgear of that one police captain that had released him after the bar fight. The lower half of the officer’s face was obscured by a mask.

Orion Pax. That was his name—Megatron’s spark sunk in his chest. This had been a trick, a ploy to rearrest him. His work had been a pretext after all and his very presence here was practically an admission of guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he started, leaning away from Orion. “I should leave—“

“No, wait, please.” Orion waved his hands, palms open to show he meant no harm, before sitting down in the opposite seat.

“I was just waiting for someone,” Megatron said, nearly knocking over his overpriced beverage in his haste to get up from the table.

“Yes, yes, I know!” Orion reached out towards him but stop when Megatron pulled further away. “I’m sorry, I—Let me start over. I’m the person you’re waiting for.”

He froze, half out of his seat.

“… You?”

Despite the icy weight of his near immediate future, knowing he would immediately be ostracized for what he would soon say to the Senate, Orion felt overwhelmed by the warmth in his spark. His fuel tank had been full to bursting with excitement as he walked to the café where he had invited Megatron to meet him, at long last.

Megatron had hidden a fascinating fire behind the protective mask of a quiet and reserved in demeanor when they had last crossed paths, even if the circumstances of their first meeting had been terrible. Something had burned behind those scarlet optics, something that had stuck with Orion ever since.

Orion had wished, idly back then, that he could get to know him better, to see more of those thoughts protectively guarded.

And now, seated in the café across from Megatron, Orion finally had the chance to see his sharp gaze once more.

He could have never believed that that a chance encounter with some confiscated, illicit poetry would have led him here, would have led him to smile behind his mask so wide he was sure it was spilling over into view, would have brought him to meet someone who made his spark lurch in dizzying spins.

Megatron’s words were still quiet, guarded, as they conversed, but Orion didn’t begrudge him his caution. It only further cemented his resolve. That, and the staring by other patrons at the company a police captain had deigned to keep.

“You know,” Orion said at last, closing his mask again after draining the remainder of his warm fuel. “I think… I think you’ve helped me make up my mind.”

“About what?”

Megatron tilted his head to the side, visibly confused.

That was fine. Orion hadn’t warned him.

Orion waved a hand at his new… friend. Perhaps they could at least be called “friends,” for the amount of trust this sort of meeting took to even happen in the first place.

Though… perhaps more, later, if Megatron wasn’t averse. He hadn’t reacted poorly to Orion’s praise of his more intimate works. Orion would have been lying if he weren’t interested in becoming acquainted with “hands, rough from ceaseless labor.”

All the same, he continued, managing to divert the less than appropriate thoughts before he would have to dismiss a cue from his cooling systems.

“I’m… not doing as much to help my fellow Cybertronian as I thought I was.” Not nearly as much, it turned out. “You, your writings, and everything I’ve seen here in Rodion, in the Dead End, have helped me realize that. I’m just ashamed it’s taken me so long.”

“And…?” The question was understandably expectant.

“I’m going to quit.”

Megatron scoffed in disbelief.

“And do what then?”

The miner couldn’t have been writing about himself when he had written about the stars fleeing their palace in the skies to sparkle and shine in a mech’s optics, but Orion thought he could have been forgiven for thinking otherwise as he watched Megatron’s focal rings narrow in judgment.

“It isn’t as though you—”

“I know some individuals who… hold very similar opinions as you and… as I now do.” Renegades that he had been keeping a distant optic on, a favor for his old friend, Shockwave, the only senator Orion retained any respect for these days. The senator’s former students had suffered under many of the same restrictive policies as Megatron had. “I think perhaps I’ll pay them a visit, after… after I pay the Senate a visit first.”

Megatron said nothing, sitting there in silence with his hands around the drink that had long since gone cold, forgotten in the midst of their conversation. Had he ever even taken a sip? Orion couldn’t recall, having been too focused on their exchange and on burning optics.

“And it’s sudden, I know.” Orion let his hands carelessly flop across the table, towards where Megatron’s were folded. “It sounds absolutely crazy, but I want—“

Orion stopped himself, taking a deep ventilation and shifting uncomfortably. He tensed his outstretched hands into fists before relaxing them again.

Another deep ventilation.

“Will you go with me?”

Please say—

“Yes.”

#fic #one shot #maccadam #idw1 #megatron #optimus prime #orion pax #megop

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squeakyfir · 1 year

Text

Stow-Away (Jaws 1975) (X Child! Reader)

Description:

Stuck on a populated island with an abusive father with only one way out but hard to reach.

A boat.

Born on Amity island and losing your mother at the age of two, it left you with your father who was caring at first but then became abusive. You had too escape. You thought about sneaking onboard to a boat but now that a massive man eating shark was threatening the waters, the town stopped the flow of boats leaving the harbors out of fear.

You were stuck.

Until…

You see a boat preparing to leave the island. That was your only option, jump aboard and hide until gets to another port.

But… Oh boy… What these men were doing was not what you expected.

They were out on the water… To catch the man eater themselves…

I do not own the cover image. All rights of that image, characters and story belong to Universal Studios™. I will be adding my own twists but the main things belong to Universal Studios™

Chapter 1

An evening's heat was poured onto the small island of Amity. This town had little to no troubles at all. Most was just noise complaints, the local kids getting into mischief and a very few number of accidents. There was nothing to turn the heads and cause shock from the locals. All of the people on Amity island knew each other well due to it being a small town. It was peaceful and secluded.

But being secluded wasn't always the best. Especially in your case.

You didn't really have friends and wouldn't talk to other adults that much. You were always on the move that it was starting to become a bit concerning. You were mostly seen at the store and on the beach but that was basically it. You live with your father in a small house on the island and were always afraid of what tomorrow would bring. It was because of your father.

"GET IT DONE, NOW! I'LL BE BACK IN THIRTY MINUTES AND IT BETTER BE DONE! GOT IT"!

"yes"

"GOOD"!

Your dad left the house and slammed the door shut. You were alone with the task of cleaning the house once again. You sighed and knew you had to get started. As you grabbed the broom, you looked up and saw a family picture of you and your parents. Your father looked so happy and so did your mother. You have a very very vague memory of her since she died when you were two. You are now seven years old and your father now despises you. He blamed you for your mother's death, deciding that you were nothing but a waste.

You stopped looking at the picture and got to work. It was too much for a young kid. Some of the work required you to be on a ladder, which is dangerous. You had fallen many times but your father didn't care. He only seemed to be concerned if you broke a bone, to which he would then sigh dramatically and take you to the hospital saying you accidentally fell but not from a ladder. Sighing once again after only a couple of things have been accomplished, you looked out the window and saw the beach in the distance. It was lifeless which was still strange considering what was happening on the island.

Amity island is known for its beaches but because of a man-eating shark, there was no way people were going in the water. Especially boats. All fishing and sailing boats were told to not go out into the ocean and could only sail in the channels until the situation was dealt with. It was a problem for you considering that a boat was your only way out. But anyways, you kept working until you heard the door slammed open. "YOU BETTER BE DONE"!

You didn't respond and only jumped down from the step ladder that was helping you be able to do the dishes. You ran and hid underneath the table and heard his heavy footsteps coming into the kitchen. You tried to keep your tears at bay and saw that he left the door opened. He walked into the kitchen and saw that the dishes were halfway finished and looked enraged. He marched upstairs demanding that you come out of your room at once.

Not wanting to deal with him anymore, you sprinted out the door and down to a harbor. Your little lungs were gasping for more air but you knew that your father would know by now that you got out. As you kept running, you had to stop to catch your breath and noticed that you were near cranberry hill road and also saw a boat with people putting supplies on it at the last boat house. They must be leaving! This is your only chance! You went over and hid yourself behind a wall to watch and wait for an opening. You could see the name of the boat.

"Orca"

It was a small and decent sized boat, but it looked like it could conceal you. As someone moved over, you could see the floor on the boat and saw two small hatch doors. It was big enough for you to hide down there. It would be hard to reach it but you had to take it. Once people had their backs turned, you sprinted for it and made it on the boat and quickly got through the door but that doesn't mean you were quiet. As you shut the door, you heard a man say, "What was that"?

"Somethin' must've fell".

You couldn't see anything except the bright lines of light that shined through the cracks of the door. You then heard a startling sound; the engine of the boat was right next to you, and you gasped loudly when the sound occurred. Luckily, it was loud, so it muffled your gasp. The loud sounds from the engine were silenced a bit and the boat started to move.

Not knowing what was going to happen, you kept your mouth and nose covered from the engine fuel and hoped that this would be over fast.

#jaws 1975 #fanfiction #x child reader #quint jaws #matt hooper #martin brody #jaws movie #shark #short story #dont judge me #will add more tags later

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ukftm · 7 months

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Sorry this is so long. In 2017 i was seen at london gic, given the go ahead for testosterone gel. My gp refused at the time. I tried 3 different gp’s and the 4th agreed to start (now 2020) but she was a locum. When she left my gp cancelled the prescription i was only on it 3 months. I begged my gp to continue but got nowhere as she “didn’t believe it was right thing to do” her words. So i changed gp surgery. It took me so long to change as i felt like giving up, but i finally thought i’d try again. Just had a appointment waited 8 weeks for it and all i got was a referral back to gic London which is 5 year long wait list. I’m going to try another gp at this surgery another 8 week wait. If they refuse to starting a prescription, i’ll have to wait the 5 years again and even then a gp can refuse to prescribe again like the first time. I came out when i was 16 it’s 10 years later and medically i am no further forward. I am so frustrated at the whole system. It feels like i will never be able to medically transition. I want to give up completely. I’ve done everything i can transition wise (documents ect). What are my options if i still get refused from every gp i see, i can’t afford private care. I know legally no gp has to prescribe on recommendation of a specialist but if that’s the case then every gp i see won’t prescribe. I can’t keep trying, it’s exhausting and i haven’t got anywhere in 10years. What can i do?

Hi Anon,

My advise would be to write a letter of complaint to your local NHS board, detailing the fact that you have been prescribed T from your GIC and your multiple GPS have refused you treatment (detail the specific GPs by name). These GPs are acting against the recommendation of the GIC and refusing you care/treatment.

Before you write your letter of complaint, do some research on the NHS website and look at their care statements and policies for patients. This will help you use some of these points in your letter.

GPs may have their own opinions about trans health care but they CANNOT refuse you treatment especially when you have been prescribed T by your GIC. GPs cannot decide who they will and will not treat. This is discrimination. You must say very clearly in your complaint letter that you are being refused treatment as a trans person and you are therefore being discriminated against due to your trans identity. Using words like ‘discrimination’ and ‘refusal of access to medical care’ are really important when writing letters of complaint.

The General medical council clearly state: “That GPs must co-operate with gender identity clinics and specialists to provide effective and timely treatment for trans and non-binary people.”

You may also want to get in contact with your GIC and ask if there is anything further they can do.

You would however NOT be put back to the bottom of the waiting list so you would not have to wait another 5 years for further letters or appointments with your GIC. You would just need to email/call them to discuss your situation.

You should also reach out to your local MSP and tell them about your situation and that as a trans person you are being refused treatment.

Citizens advice are also a good place to contact for advice. Their website states: “if GPs refuse to accept you, they must provide reasonable grounds and give you their reasons in writing”. This will apply to refusing treatment also. I have attached the citizens advice website as it provides a few options to get help.

There are too many trans people having bad experiences like this with their GPs, but writing formal letters of complaint highlighting their discriminatory practises are essential here.

https://www.citizensadvice.org.uk/scotland/health/nhs-healthcare-s/nhs-patients-rights-s/#:~:text=If%20they%20refuse%20to%20accept,first%20choice%20has%20been%20refused.

I have also attached a document that Mermaids created about GPs and their duty of care as well as a link to a website discussing trans healthcare, so you may find this information helpful:

https://www.bma.org.uk/advice-and-support/gp-practices/gp-service-provision/managing-patients-with-gender-dysphoria

#testosterone

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tubbytarchia · 6 months

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Someone asked for other reasons I hate Estonia but there's a lot so I'm making it into a post instead lol

TLDR: very conservative (eg homophobic), expensive living rates and low pay, we get no good stuff, estonians are rude, russians in estonia are rude, domestic abuse rates, estonia is a lame country

I am not claiming that these are exclusive to Estonia, please fuck off if you think that makes my complaints invalid

Estonians are piss conservative (so majorly transphobic, homophobic, anti-abortion etc) (Also racist)

Estonians are fucking rude. There is extremely little common decency like respect for the elderly and junk. Estonians are so quirky because they're so introverted (Estonians very frequently describe Estonians as such) (and often easily aggravated) and then they're SOO introverted that they refuse to even help others. It's not a norm to tip ANYONE or thank workers like bus drivers. I sprained my knee at a store entrance and that shit hurts so I had to keel over for awhile, and yet I felt like I was being a bother by not getting out of the way enough for all the people who couldn't care less. I have so many personal examples but I'll give you my best: My pregnant sister passed out in the middle of a major grocery store only for NO ONE to call for an ambulance until she came to and had to do so herself.

Something I barely ever hear anyone talk about!!! But domestic abuse!! Casual domestic abuse is so normalized that no one ever says anything, a survey from a few years ago found that 1 in 6 Estonians are sexually abused in childhood alone. A survey from this year found that 41% of the women questioned experienced domestic abuse at the hands of their partner. I cannot understate how big of a problem it is that victims just DON'T TALK (and that's not their fault!!!! It's the country's!!!)

About 25% of our population is Russian, and I would not complain about this if 1. Russians living here weren't massive assholes a lot of the time, expecting everyone to speak Russian instead of them learning Estonian or just being fucking respectful (DISCALIMER MY EXPERIENCE AND WHAT I'VE HEARD FROM OTHERS and junk, I'm not generalizing everyone, is this really a racist comment? I seriously do have wayyy more negative experiences with Russians than pleasant, that doesn't mean there aren't decent or nice Russians living here) and 2. if Estonia DIDN'T ENFORCE Russian. I get it, the Russian occupation and whatever shit! But these days you can't even become a good paying DOCTOR with a doctor's degree if you don't also speak Russian

Minimum wage WAS recently increased but the increase was to 4.60USD. While Americans get 7.25USD and I've heard you can get paid like 10USD as a fast food worker too which is crazy to me. Not in Estonia you fucking can't. Wages in general are pretty piss poor and it's often more affordable to just work overseas

Estonia is quaint which is also a plus but to me mostly a minus because I feel so stuck here. Non-Estonians are like "but you have a lot of forests!" like lmao that's the highest possible praise that Estonia can be given. It is incredibly boring here and our highest "mountain" is 318m

The cities are boring. I feel that only two places here can even be called cities, the rest are more like big towns. The capital has some very cool and pretty places but that's about it (ofc Estonia has many cool and pretty locations but compared to other countries? Ughh. Barely any skyscrapers, not many elevated roads or tunnels... all that good stuff)

Our prices are set to become the most expensive in all of Europe!! Local prices have already in some cases doubled in the last year and continue to increase almost monthly, set to increase by another 20% at the start of 2024 lmaoo

Not many big brands. We get some fast food places but no Wendy's or Starbucks or whatever. Nobody wants to invest here, we got Subway recently and they left not even a year later

Not much geek stuff. Estonia has 2 anime stores TOTAL. 4 proper card game stores TOTAL. I'm frankly amazed we even get a singular convention, but we have absolutely no locals. Stores have started selling stuff like Pokemon toys very recently. Even in Finland (overseas neighbor), Pokemon/Digimon/Yugioh was everywhere. And here? Lmao no not ever. Not even ANY school clubs or anything. We get choirs and that's it

Shipping is abysmal. It costs like 10 bucks to send most stuff from Estonia to ANYWHERE in the world, yet it almost exclusively costs 30-50 bucks to ship anything from the US. And shipping fees from even the UK aren't very good either. (Which, again, abysmal accessibility to geek stuff, because people barely ever sell anything in Europe internationally. Mostly US and UK people do, esp because they are the only ones who get any cool stuff)

Local production is expensive as shit because there's little choices because we're still a tiny country. Ofc having your stuff produced in China is always cheaper but then you also gotta wait 3 months for shipping!! Unless you wanna pay 50EUR+ for it of course

Very strict gun laws so I can't go and buy a gun to off myself from this miserable country

#ofc as a resident of your country youre bound to hate it in many ways but sigh #wish so desperately I could get out of here #estonia #fuck you estonia #we have free education and healthcare yayyyyy I guess I have no right to really complain

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lgbtawarenessproject · 11 months

Text

Part 1: USA

Hello everyone! Happy pride month!

Last month I stated that coming June I would post about historical queer events around the world. This is part 1 of North America. Later today I will post parts 2 & 3, Belize and Greenland. The pride month calendar can be seen in our pinned post!

That being said, I'm excited to show you what I've been working on. (Also thanks Mom for helping me edit this)

-Soul

Stonewall Inn was one of many bars in Greenwich Village, New York City. It, just like many others, was owned by the Genovese crime family, the local mafia. The family thought it would be profitable to cater towards the gay citizens, shunned by most every other bar and person. Police had been bribed to ignore it, and on the occasions that they did raid the bar, ‘dirty’ cops would send a tip.

June 28th 1969, Stonewall Inn had just experienced a routine raid a couple days before. Officers burst in carrying a warrant, and arrested thirteen people. In order to check if they were truly ‘cross-dressing’, female officers would take them into the bathroom and have them strip

Usually when this happened everyone would let it go, they’d be mad, but they wouldn’t do anything. This time, however, an officer had hit a butch lesbian(widely assumed to be Stormé DeLarverie), in the head with a baton while getting her into the car. She yelled for the onlookers to act, and they did. Bottles, stones, pennies, and other things were thrown at the police. Among the first to throw them were two trans lesbians of color, Sylvia Rivera and Marsha Johnshon. The officers boarded themselves in the Inn, but the crowd had begun setting it on fire. Not long later, the firemen and riot control came and took control of the situation.

This event may be the one we are most familiar with, but it’s not the only thing that happened. Here are some links to other events that happened shortly before and after.

Before Stonewall

After Stonewall

Sources 1 2 3

Back in 1987, the AIDS (acquired immunodeficiency syndrome) epidemic had just been labeled an epidemic. There were very few treatments, and only one FDA approved one. This treatment, called AZT (zidovudine) , was only manufactured by one company. Burroughs Wellcome, a pharmaceutical company, had made the drug nigh inaccessible. The price was so high, that very few people could afford it.

ACT UP (AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power), was created in response to this. Larry Kramer was among the ones to originate this movement. The activist groups scheduled a march on Wall Street in 1987, scheduled to disrupt traffic during the morning rush hour. Activists laid in the street and held signs, chanting phrases like “We are angry, we want action”, and “Release those drugs.” Seventeen activists were arrested, but shortly afterwards the FDA announced it would lower the required time for drugs to be approved from nine years, to seven.

Sources 1 2

In June of 2015, gay marriage was legalized by the supreme court in the landmark case Obergefell v. Hodges, forcing fourteen states to legalize same-sex marriage.

The case started in 2013, when James Obergefell and his husband John Arthur James, filed a lawsuit in Ohio when they realized that their marriage would not be recognized on Arthur's death certificate. During the lawsuit, Arthur, who had a terminal illness, passed.

Plaintiffs told Obergefell that state officials were not going to approve his name being on Arthur’s death certificate, but filed the complaint anyway. The judge the case went to, Judge Timothy Black, granted Obergefell a temporary order that would allow Arthur to be marked as wed.

The plaintiffs and Judge Black were not happy with this however, and the plaintiffs amended their complaint, adding two more plaintiffs. They asked that Ohio declare that their refusal to honor out of state marriages on death certificates, was unconstitutional and asked that they would fix it. Judge Black also declared it unconstitutional and banned the state from enforcing it upon the plaintiffs.

The department of health director Wymyslo appealed this, but was unable to see the case through. As was his successor Lance Himes. Himes’ successor Hodges was the one to finally see the case in court, where it was appealed.

Obergefell filed a petition for a Writ of Certiorari with the supreme court, in 2014. In January of 2015, the Supreme Court granted it, allowing the case to be heard. The Supreme Court, decided after much deliberation, to recognize same-sex marriage as a right under the fourteenth amendment.

Sources 1 2

Additional things that I wanted to share about, but cannot do justice for.

Intersex Awareness 1 2 3 4 5

Two-Spirit 1 2 3

Please support our project by taking this survey if you haven't already done so!

-> Part 2

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kaiyonohime · 2 years

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Ravelry took sides. Against the fiber arts community.

Ravelry has had issues for the last few years. They redesigned the site in such a way that it was triggering seizures in people, the heads of Ravelry dismissed such issues as bs and insulted and ignored the people that were complaining, and they took a hands off stance while a scam artist was stealing thousands of dollars from users (that scam artist would end up in jail by the end of that fiasco, all thanks to DT and not to Ravelry).

Earlier today someone, an unknown someone but there are three very good culprits suggested (Jasmin of Knitmore Girls, that toxic Ben guy from Stitches, or BzyPeach), complained about the discussion about the Lady Dye Yarns situation.

And, because of that complaint, two mods got banned. One mod, Chupacabra, got banned for commenting that Diane of Lady Dye Yarns is being taken to court for credit card debt (this is confirmed knowledge that is available to the public on the Massachusetts website, it was not protected knowledge) and not posting proof. And then, when a second mod stepped in, TnyPirate, and posted a screenshot of the, once again, publicly available evidence of Diane being taken to court over credit card debts, she was banned for posting proof!

It turned into a damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation. All in an attempt to silence the consumer advocacy group DT because they were sitting on knowledge that hadn’t been released yet.

Well fuck that. Diane, if you were so scared of this getting out before, well, it’s out now. Chupacabra posted what had not been said on Reddit. Diane, of Lady Dye Yarns, was taking grants from the state of Massachusetts, and was specifically only shipping complete and well dyed yarns to people involved with giving those grants. And that’s how she was supporting her business for ten years. That’s why she was gathering information on people’s real names and linking them to social media accounts, so she could continue to make herself and her company look good, all while throwing the ‘lesser’ customers under the bus.

She was also raising money, for charity she claimed, and keeping it for herself.

She has started fighting chargebacks, so if you’re owed yarn or a refund by her, you need to fight for that money now. She doesn’t have the cash to refund money any longer. Especially now that people are backing away from her now that her thefts have come to light, including stealing and distributing patterns from designers she knew in real life!

All in all, it’s coming out that she really is just a terrible, terrible human being and scam artist that was able to keep the balls in the air for ten long years.

This is what Chupacabra posted on Reddit today:

Harvard Business School, Faculty & Research, Publications

August 2022 Case

HBS Case Collection

Titled ’Boston Impact Initiative: Investing in Local Change’ (Note that this save can be twitchy at times)

Oversight looks to have been an issue for this program. Intriguing considering the financial state and general disorganization of LDY and the company having received a grant with such obvious to accounting Ravelry screaming loud issues, including issues with the Mass Secretary of the Commonwealth, and what that recent debt collection court case implies as iffy credit.

Then, this was found about another program that LDY was involved in that may explain why it appears (and I am alleging) that Diane had to artificially inflate and cheerlead the state of the company. This may be a touch hard to follow because the narrative of what it is and why it is important to the story was still being fully fleshed out for following along. It wasn't quite ready for prime time yet, but was getting close.

From 2021.

First you'll need to open this archived webpage from FBE (Foundation for Business Equity) and then scroll down to the “Our Cohorts” section (almost at the bottom). On the left side there’s orange text/button labelled: “Click on logos to learn more about our Participating Enterprises in Cohort IX and X”

Have a look at the logos.So LDY is listed in their “Cohort IX” &/or “Cohort X”. That’s very recent.For more details on what the BEI Accelerator does, search this document for the phrase “Business Equity Initiative”. Keep searching because there are a few hits worth reading so that the structure of the program makes better sense.

Diane was 100% certainly a member of the BEI Accelerator program in late 2021.

Confirmation was found on Twitter. The tweet is from FBE’s acct and it says:

“As the holiday season arrives, we are highlighting some of the incredible businesses in our Business Equity Initiative (BEI) program. Today we are sharing two businesses that are perfect for classic gifts: Elegant Stitches and ladydyeyarns”, followed by a photo of four dyed skeins with the LDY logo below them.

Diane better have shipped ALLLLL of the contents of her “Ready-To-Ship: The Fabulous Holiday Box” to customers who were directed via this site …. to this one..

It is suspected that things like that tweet above, plus other FBE-generated industry puff articles, were one of the contributing factors to Diane feeling she needed to keep separate league tables/lists of customers to single out for special treatment.

There’s no way she would have ripped off an investor or some big-wig/big-name by giving them the plebeian version of one of her boxes (or none at all!). They’d receive the bespoke one with 120% of the contents plus a hand-composed note. Delivered on. time. or kablooey … shit says hello to fan. Nobody complains like a burned donor. NOBODY.

It is also suspected that all of the above is why she also has bigger name defenders. She cultivated those relationships to cultivate more relationships to bring in more money to look better to programs. It's an ouroboros of networking to get more money to network to get more money.

It's bullshit all the way down, and at the very bottom are the customers who were simply rungs on the ladder to the real moneymakers and grant program approvers.

Now that it's been reported that on top of the inability to confirm claimed donations, stall on any refunds, and the outright theft from designers that she knew in real life and served on the Vogue Diversity Councel with that she is possibly fighting disputes, the Mass AG is making calls, and the DT forum and mods have been targeted for official shutting the fuck up it's starting to look like this was possibly just another scammer in some extra pretty packaging.

For what it is worth I absolutely think her defenders are being just as manipulated as everyone else has been. I just can't say if they are victims or volunteers yet, and they aren't talking so I'll leave that up to everyone else to decide.

#lady dye yarns #lady dye yarn scandal #scam artist #fiber arts community #knitting community #ravelry #false charity fundraising #stealing from customers

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dimpledpran · 1 year

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8 Shows to Get to Know Me

I was tagged by the lovely @talays-portkey and @i-got-the-feels !

1. Ghost Whisperer (2005-2010) I think this was the first show that i actually tried to watch as it was airing. I still remember waiting for 10pm every Friday, whether everyone else was awake or not. I think I watched all the way from Season 1-4, until it stopped airing on our local channel.

2. Glee (2009-2015) Honestly this was my introduction to the English music scene. I did not grow up listening to English songs, so my initial playlist was basically Disney Channel artists and Glee covers. As a music lover, I just enjoyed listening to their takes of the songs. I think I stopped watching somewhere during Season 3, and only did the Cory tribute episode after that.

3. Teen Wolf (2011-2017) This was the first show that I started reading fanfics for. Well I started reading before I watched it, but Sterek stole my heart. I was very into the series, to the point that I watched Season 3B in one night because I had to find out what happened. Dumb me thought it was a good idea to start a new season at 8pm at night. I stayed up through the night, and texted my friend at 6am to yell about the whole thing. And they replied that it is too early to be awake to scream about it. “What do you mean wake up and watch it. I haven’t slept yet” So yeah. Stiles is my baby, and I will protect him with my life.

4. The Untamed (2019) My friend recommended this to a few of us during covid lockdown, and I am very glad she did. It really opened me up to a whole new world. This show had such a grip on me. To the point that I started a new side blog for it, and learnt how to make edits for it. I got to know so many incredible people through the network cos of this show. It was such a brilliant show! The plot is so intricate! It has angst and heartache and amazing costumes and stunning sets and a cast who honestly killed it. Definitely a show that I would recommend to everyone.

5. Bad Buddy (2021-2022) Obviously I can’t go without talking about BB here. Have you seen my blog URL? Till BB, I never watched a show as it was airing. I usually wait for it to end and then binge, or start watching it just in time for the finale. But I kept seeing gifs on tumblr and it made me want to check it out. And boy am I glad I did it. It was such a fun experience to watch it live and scream on a weekly basis. For some reason the hold that this show has on me seems to be lifelong? I have no complaints though. I am still enjoying all the BB brainrot. Pran is my baby. I have never related to a character as much as I relate to him. He is so precious to me. And this show just blends angst with humour and a touch of reality so well. I am making it my personal mission to read through every Patpran fic on AO3. This show made me want to try writing. I cannot explain how much this show means to me. A definite must-watch as well!

6. Arivaan (2019-2020) So my sister told me that this is my kind of show and made me watch it. I started it while she was halfway through, and finished it way before her. It was right up my alley. The whole premise is about trying to identify a serial killer who has been murdering women, and leaves an origami paper crane behind. There is a police officer who manages to find these clues and tries to identify him, but the killer disappears and due to personal issues he end up leaving the force. Years later the killer is back and he somehow gets roped into it again, but his partner is now leading the case, and is finding out things that he doesn’t really want to. And I really enjoyed the way it was taken, and the I am really hoping that there will be a Season 2 for this.

7. Paava Kadhaigal (2020) Honestly no show has made me as mad as this has, and that is totally the point. (Although I am totally gonna be ignoring the second episode. That does not exist to me) It is an anthrological series, with 4 3 episodes touching on different hard topics/issues prevalent in society. The way it was taken , the music, THE CAST, EVERYTHING WAS BRILLIANT!! I had to pause it and just scream on twitter to release all the frustration that this brought up. Which means it really did its job well. I have not watched this series since the first time, but trust me when I say I remember every detail because it has such a lasting impact. Especially the first and the last. I was bawling. NOTE: This can be very highly triggering, so please do check out the synopsis before you watch it. Or feel free to hit me up with any questions, or just scream about it if you do check it out.

8. 3 Will Be Free (2019) Insane plot with amazing characters with so much depth. Loved that each character was so complex. There is no character that is purely good or bad, like it was so real, and you feel for them all equally. This really set a standard that no other show has reached so far. I need another series like this. And of course anyone who put Tay Tawan in funky suits gets a plus from me. Also more female characters need to have guns!!

Honorary Mentions: Mindhunter: This would have been number 8, if it wasnt cancelled!! The casting directors for this deserve all the bonuses for how creepily identical the actors look to the actual serial killers! It was so interesting to try and get into the head of the serial killers and understand why they did what they did. LOVED IT!!! Until We Meet Again: This used to be my favourite BL series until Bad Buddy took over. I loved Fluke’s effortless acting. He is brilliant. And I love the whole concept of reincarnation and finding you soulmate. And this did it so well with the angst and touch of humour and romance. And of course TeamWin stole my heart.

Theory Of Love: Honestly, wasn’t that much of a fan the first time I watched it. But the redemption arc is so goood, that I felt so much for Khai the second time I watched it. That train station scene just lives in my head. So for rewatch factor, this deserves a honorary mention.

The Good Place, Word Of Honor, We Best Love, Stranger Things, RE:Mind

Tagging: @highwarlockkareena , @eohachu , @markpakin , @fangrui , @fuujiikaze , @gege @seawherethesunsets @gaiamochi (no pressure)

#tag game

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jade-parcels · 2 years

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🌸💕Happy Birthday, Detective 💕🌸

🌸The mystery of the stolen cake! Oh my! 🌸

Such a special day for our dearest detective <3 Even on his birthday he’s hard at work, investigating a stolen cake from a nearby bakery. You suppress a giggle as you think about your silly plan: formulating a fake ‘robbery’ with the family who owns the bakery nearby. They thought it was a cute idea and you tipped them extra so they’d be as convincing as possible as they reported the missing cake. While he’s distracted with the locals you’re quietly scurrying around his office, hanging colorful paper streamers and uncovering the cake in question. The pink frosting glistens in the soft light spilling in through the window, tempting you to try a taste- no no, back to work!! His documents are carefully set away so they won’t get messy or lost, his desk is cleaned and cleared so they two of you can sit and eat there later. You set a few bottles of fire water out as well, smirking as you recall the last time your dear detective got drunk on fire water! A noise complaint was filed due to his loud, boisterous singing.

Heizou, on the other hand, isn’t picking up on the clues you left behind. He’s frustrated that despite the theft report, there’s no proof of theft at all! No breaking and entering, no weapons, no suspicious footprints, nothing that would lead anyone to assume there’s a robbery. But, he‘s the best detective around. He has to solve this case! He inspects the kitchen, the decorative desert displays, the booths where patrons sit, watching his every move with curious gazes. Heizou plops himself down in a chair, fiercely scribbling notes down. It just doesn’t make sense! Who stole this cake! Was the cake even stolen? Archons above, such a simple case is quickly becoming a frustrating headache. He needs someone to bounce ideas off of! Yeah! Okay, that’ll be helpful! You don’t live too far away, maybe a block or so, so he’ll just head down that way and see if you feel up to helping solve a mystery. Maybe you two can get lunch together as well, wouldn’t that be nice? Heizou heads that way, thinking about what food stalls you two would visit on your way back to the office. Maybe you’d even sing him happy birthday? Or go out to get sweets with him? :’)

Heizou says hello to his coworkers as he trudges to the back of the building, nudging for door open with his shoulder. He’s too absorbed in his coffee that he doesn’t notice you standing there in the middle of the room so your loud, excited exclamation “Happy Birthday, honey!!” Scares the ever-loving shit out of the poor detective. He lets out a very manly yelp of surprise, nearly dropping his food as you rush to hug him. “H-Hey! What are you doing?” He asks, hurriedly setting his stuff aside so he can properly embrace you “Where have you been? I went to your house to see if you could help me with- oh archons above…” The detective’s gaze falls upon the pink sheet cake sitting on his desk… the very same sheet cake that was described to him this morning… as stolen “Please tell me you didn’t actually steal this, baby!” he whines, shaking your shoulders “I don’t have the heart to turn you in”

You’re quick to assure him that no, the cake was not actually stolen <3 you sit him down in the chair at his desk, quickly popping candles into the cake to light for him. He’s beaming at the display, he’s almost got hearts in his eyes :’) Heizou is beyond happy to have you here with him, this is really all he wanted for his birthday anyways! He doesn’t even need to make a birthday wish! You’re so cute as you sing to him, clapping your hands along to the tune. He thinks long and hard about what his wish will be, earning a concerned ‘C’mon! Pick something! The candles are dripping onto the cake!!!’ So he decides to wish for something truly special

🌸I wish, I wish with all my might that I’ll have my sweetheart by my side forever and ever! That we’ll solve crimes together, have dinner together every night, and get a dog together! Maybe that’s too long if a wish… ah well, it doesn’t matter! 🌸

He blows out the candles and swipes a finger over the soft, pink frosting, using his lightning quick reflexes to wipe the cream off on your upper lip. “Oh no! Looks like I gotta get that, huh?~” Ah… A sweet lil birthday kiss to top off the cutest surprise in the world <3 Heizou couldn’t be happier! Honestly, could it get much better than this??? Sharing a hefty slice of cake with the love of his life, laughing as you explain how you went about planning the ‘cake robbery’. What did he do to deserve someone like you? He has no idea :’) but he isn’t complaining!!! He’ll fall asleep beside you later on after his sugar crash, happy as a clam (and a bit tipsy) <3 this really is the best birthday ever <3

#just a little something something to celebrate the cutie detective <3 #genshin impact #so happy I finally pulled him ;-;#genshin impact fluff #genshin impact writing #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact heizou #heizou shikanoin #heizou x reader

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