#Zero-day threat patch

[tez-world1]

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The Word of Your Body

Jason Todd x reader one shot

Summary: Jason comes back from patrol, but something is keeping his mind still somewhere out there. You're always there to bring him back and let him know he's safe. At home. With you.

Word Count: 5.8K

Category: Angst-ish because Jason is going through it but fluff because reader is there to comfort him

Warnings: Jason having a bad time

Author’s note: I know, I know, three fics in one year?? Who am I? Jsjksks truly an achivement for me, very happy and very proud hehe. Thank you for sticking with me and supporting my fics, I love you all. That said, enjoy!

It’s really incredible how much one can know about a person just by their body. From the way they move, to how they carry themselves, to the small gestures that they make in their day to day that reflect who they are, to the little telltale signs of how they’re feeling. A smile, a wrinkle between the eyebrows, a twitch of their hand.

And not just the movements of the body but you can also learn a lot from the singularities and marks that one has on their skin. A child with a scrape on their knee from running too fast on the playground. A chef with hundreds of small cuts on their hands from mastering the use of a knife. A ballet dancer with wounded toes. A painter with watercolors under their nails. A piano player with soft and delicate hands.

You can have a lot of information about a person just by observing them, knowing how they move and how their body reacts to things. A flinch from fear at the threat of danger. A shiver at the gentle touch of a lover.

That’s how you immediately know that something’s wrong when Jason returns from patrol. And you don’t even need to see him.

You’re reading in bed when you hear him come in. Always waiting up for him whenever you can. It isn’t difficult for you since you’ve always preferred staying up late rather than waking up early. Unless you have something to do early the next morning, you always wait for him to come home, to come to you, liking to see him as soon as he returns to make sure that he’s made it back to you safe and sound.

You either read or watch something on TV while you wait despite how many times he’s told you that you don’t have to wait up for him, that you should sleep. And every time you shake your head and say, “And go to sleep without you next to me? Never.” And every time Jason rolls his eyes at your stubbornness while his heart thrums in his chest at how much he loves you and then gently cups your face in his hands and kisses you softly.

And even when you can’t help it and you do have to go to sleep earlier or exhaustion wins over you and brings you to the depths of slumber without warning, Jason always approaches you quietly so as to not disturb you and kisses your forehead to let you know he’s home. If you’re on the couch he brings you to bed, and if you’re already in bed, he settles the covers better over you, just the way you like.

And those times you always smile in your sleepy state and unless he’s injured and needs your help patching him up, you follow semi consciously the sound of his footsteps around the apartment. The sound of the shower as he steps inside to rinse away the Gotham night clinging to him, the sound of rustling sheets as he finally climbs into bed with you, and are finally lulled back to sleep when warmth surrounds you as he brings you into his arms.

You’re no metahuman but you’ve developed a sixth sense for everything regarding Jason Todd. You would be able to easily spot him in a crowd of thousands after having just faintly heard his voice in the distance even if he didn’t have that white tuft of hair singling him out, all your senses zeroed in on him. It’s like your body and mind are always tuned to find him, like tweaking the dial of the car radio to find your favorite station and finding it on the very first try.

You have a master’s degree on Jason Todd and all of his movements, small gestures and twitch of expressions that he doesn’t even realize that he’s doing, you know it all by heart. You know that when the right side of his smirk pulls slightly at his cheek as he’s admiring you doing something mundane, he’s going to kiss you. You know that when he flexes his hands at his sides something is bothering him. You know that he’s going to laugh loudly and wholeheartedly when the sound makes his shoulders shake slightly before making its way up his throat, as if he’s trying to contain it but the laugh is so strong and spontaneous that he can’t fight it. And you know he’s in pain from a bruise on his ribs when he shifts his weight on his feet and a grimace appears on his face for just a second.

That’s how you know that something’s up when you hear him climb through your living room window and his steps don’t sound as if he’s trying to not make too much noise in order to not wake you up in case that you’re asleep, but as if he's trying to make himself as small as possible. It’s a subtle difference but it’s there. You know it because you’ve encountered it before.

Your worry only increases when in the next four seconds that it takes you to find your bookmark between the sheets and place it in your book, you don’t hear him move at all. He doesn’t come find you and he doesn’t call your name.

When you exit the bedroom you find him in the middle of the living room. He just stands there, shoulders hunched, red helmet gripped tightly in hand, head looking down, his hair falling over his forehead.

Something has happened. You don’t know what it is but your first worry right now is making sure that he’s okay. If he heard you come into the room he doesn’t show it. You take a couple of small yet purposeful steps towards him, making sure that they can be heard so that you can alert him of your presence, not wanting to startle him.

But nothing. He stays frozen.

You take a deep breath as your heart clenches at seeing him like this. It’s bad. Whatever has happened is really, really bad and it seems like Jason’s mind is still there. He’s not fully present with you right now.

But you know what you have to do. You have to bring him back here with you. Help him to separate himself, your loving, wonderful, and kind Jason from the horrors that Red Hood has to face every day.

You take another step in his direction. “Jason?” you whisper softly.

He doesn’t react. But he doesn’t flinch either. That’s good. He knows he’s somewhere safe. But he still needs to distance himself from whatever was out there. You finally come to stand in front of him, still not touching him. “Jay?” you try again while assessing him over, trying to pinpoint if he’s injured.

Again, nothing. But the hair that hangs over his forehead moves ever so subtly, almost in an imperceptible way, but you catch it nonetheless. The hair moved because he tilted his head in the slightest of ways. He’s listening to you. Knows that you’re there. You sigh in relief when you see his grip on the helmet lessen too. Good signs.

“I’m going to touch you, okay?”

He releases a deep breath, slowly allowing himself to let go, the tension that his shoulders held not as tight as before. Leaving his body slightly, leaving him at your mercy. He’s saying, Okay. Satisfied at that and at finding that he doesn’t seem to have any major injuries, you nod. Then, you gently and very slowly take his face in your hands to look at him. His eyes acknowledge you for a split second but then his emerald gaze returns to the floor, and you feel a crack forming in your heart at the utter sadness, desperation, and despair that you find in it.

Still, you feel him melt into your touch at his cheeks. “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re home,” you offer softly.

He closes his eyes in response, reveling in the comfort that you bring him. Next, you take the helmet from his hand and set it on the kitchen counter before moving to the holster with his guns and very carefully unfastening its belt and leaving it all on the table. Helping him that way to step out of the Red Hood persona and everything that claws into it.

“Let’s take a shower,” you say, wanting to keep him informed of your every move. You take his hand and pull him with you towards the bathroom. He lets you guide him, fully trusting you but still not reacting to anything much.

You don’t ask him what’s happened. You don’t need to know. There are things that Jason doesn’t tell you about patrol. And you have no problem with it, knowing that he wants to separate those two parts of his life. But no matter what it is, you always let him know that he can come to you about them, that you’ll listen. That you’ll always be there for him. Always.

The other few times that you have seen him come home like this, slouched over and not talking much, you later learn, either by context from what you hear on the news and the streets, or by Jason directly telling you about it when he needs to let go and finally feels able share it, that the people he was after got away, that someone got hurt, or something like that.

But this time… This time something’s different. You have never seen him as bad as this. At least not from coming back from patrol. And it worries you. It worries you a lot and it kills you that you can’t do anything more than just be there for him. But it seems that that’s all that he needs right now so you settle on focusing on him.

From the guiltiness that hangs over him, tensing his shoulders and keeping his eyes down, and the distress and sorrow that you see in his gaze, you have a feeling that something terrible happened. Something that he couldn’t prevent. He couldn’t save somebody.

You can almost see how he’s replaying it in his mind, the shame and regret swirling in his head until they stiff all of his body. You need to reassure him, make him see how it isn’t his fault, how he did everything he could, and how he gave his all but how sometimes, despite how much you fight it and try to stop it, Gotham doesn’t let you escape the rot that runs through its streets.

Once you two reach the bathroom, you flick on the mirror light above the sink, casting you two in a soft golden light, not wanting to overwhelm him with the overhead one and its strong intensity.

You stand in front of him and help him take off his jacket before taking his hands in yours. He still doesn’t look at you as you take off his gloves. Once they’re gone, you take a moment to examine his hands, and you let out a sigh of relief at seeing that his knuckles aren’t wounded. Your thumbs softly trace the marred skin, small scars and irregular healing adorning his hands. You can’t help but bring them to your lips and press a long kiss to them, closing your eyes, trying to will away all the mental scars that they hold too just by the touch of your lips.

His hands, that could break bones but also mend and heal the most broken parts of yourself.

Despite what those hands either curled into fists or holding a gun could mean to other people, they’re precious to you. And one of the many wonderful parts of him. To you, they mean soft caresses while you’re laying in bed. They mean warmth when winter comes and he rubs them against your arms. They mean comfort, and safety, as he holds your sobbing body when you break down.

Their roughness both from handling dangerous weapons and using a pan to make you dinner. Jason Todd has a duality that still amazes you to this day, but you love all the multitudes that he contains all the same.

You then begin to remove his equipment. The chest armor, the knee pads, and any other protective gear, putting it all on the pile that you started with his jacket and gloves on top of the laundry basket to sort out later. Jason doesn’t move, only doing the movement necessary to help you undress him, like lifting his feet so that you can slip his boots off after having unlaced them.

But still, his gaze remains lost.

You set the boots to the side and get back up to your feet again. You walk around him to get the tub started for a bath, adding some oils and soap. You pass by him to exit the bathroom and grab some comfortable clothes for him after. Most of the time, unless it’s very cold, he normally sleeps shirtless with some sweatpants or even just his underwear during the hotter months, but you know that tonight he needs to feel covered, enveloped, protected. You begin to plan in your mind. A comfortable old shirt and sweatpants will do.

However, before you can even reach the doorframe and begin your walk to the bedroom, a hand wraps gently around your wrist. You whip back around, both surprised and glad at the same time that Jason has finally interacted with you on his own accord, this being the first contact with the outside world initiated by him. Another good sign.

You see Jason’s eyes fixed on your wrist before lifting his gaze to lock with yours.

Stay.

Your gaze softens and you take another step closer to him, almost being chest to chest. You lift your free hand to caress his cheek. “Of course,” you whisper. “I’m just going to grab you some clothes, okay? It’ll be five seconds.”

As you assure him, without realizing it, your thumb traces his cheek in the exact same motion that he has begun to rub soft circles into your wrist. He nods slowly.

“Okay,” you say and Jason releases his hold on you just enough for you to quickly slip to the bedroom. And just like you promised, you’re back just as fast, closing the door behind you so that the steam from the tub can warm up the room, starting to fog up the mirror too, and setting the clothes on the counter. And Jason still hasn’t moved an inch.

You stand in front of him again and delicately grab the hem of his shirt before looking up at him. And you don’t need words to understand each other. Can I?

Jason’s chin tips slightly. Yeah.

You slowly lift the shirt up his body and he raises his arms to help you. Once off, you leave the shirt with the rest of his discarded clothes. Then, with your hands in front of you so that Jason can see what you’re doing and anticipate your movements, you rest them on his shoulders and then gently slide them down his chest, feeling his well-worked muscles and creases from the scars on his skin.

Jason lets out a deep breath, the skin to skin contact grounding him. His eyes never leave you now, following every single one of your actions. And not because he needs to see what you’re doing in order to prepare himself, not anymore, but because you’re the only thing that seems real right now. The only thing tethering him to Earth.

Because to him, you’re his center of gravity. No matter how far he went, both in distance and into the depths of his mind, he will always come back to you.

You lean forward and press a tender kiss between his pecs. Jason shudders, feeling warmth, comfort, and light blooming from the spot that you kissed and extending through all of his body, from his torso to the ends of his limbs. Your touch like the first rays of sunshine after the coldest and longest night of the year in a frozen landscape, melting the frost and bringing everything back to life. Chasing away the Gotham chill clinging to his bones and the rigidness that holds him hostage. Replacing it all with you, just you. The warmth and safety that you provide.

Jason thinks that he wasn’t actually brought back to life all those years ago, just went through some kind of purgatory on Earth again until he reached his very own personal heaven. You. And he still has no idea what he did to deserve it.

Then you help him out of his pants until he’s standing in his underwear in front of you. His back is hunched, making him lean towards you but this time it’s not because of all the negative thoughts hanging over him, but because of the pull that you have over him, your gravity drawing him in.

You round him again to check the temperature of the water in the tub, though this time, Jason rotates his body to follow you, like a sunflower chasing the sun. Satisfied with both the water’s temperature and quantity, you close the tap.

“You want me to get in with you?” you ask, not minding that you have already showered for the day. Jason nods.

You nod to yourself and peel the shirt of his that you wear to sleep off your body, leaving you just like him, wearing only your lower underwear. And even with how exposed you two are, you’re not vulnerable. The air in the room thick not only with humidity but with the intimacy between you two. A kind that can only come from honest love and a complete feeling of trust.

But the air isn’t humming with electricity like in the other situations in which you two find yourselves with as little clothing as right now. Instead, the air is lulling, like a soft and warm wave gently rocking your body when you lay with your eyes closed in the sea. Comforting and lightening.

You discard both your final pieces of clothing and step into the tub, holding a hand out to Jason so that he can step in in front of you. When he joins you, you two finally sink your bodies in the warm and bubble covered water. You lean back at the edge of the tub with Jason between your legs, his back pressed to your chest, his head resting on your shoulder and your arms draped over his chest, all of you surrounding him, enveloping him, protecting him.

Even though the tub is relatively big, considering Jason’s huge frame, it wasn’t exactly meant for two, so you’re a mess of tangled limbs and warm bodies, but you can already feel Jason relaxing against you. You kiss the crown of his head and he finally closes his eyes.

You two lay there for a while, enjoying the hot water and letting it wash your worries away, the scent from the lavender oil that you used hanging in the air, calming your minds. You’re glad to see how the bath is helping Jason to let go of the events of the night, the remaining tension that clung to his body stripped by the water, and the memories from the night relegated to another place as you see the crease on his brows disappear as you draw gentle caresses on his chest.

You grab the shampoo bottle and start to wash Jason’s hair, working the roots and massaging his scalp to help him relax even further. Soon, hundreds of tiny white bubbles replace the sight of his black locks. You work on his hair longer than necessary but you can see how much it’s helping him, his breathing becoming even more deeper and slower. The only sign that he hasn’t fallen asleep, the hand that settles on your knee at his side.

You then rinse his hair, his white streak majestically poking between the black again. With a sponge you start to wash his body where you can reach, his shoulders, his upper arms and torso. When you’re done you maneuver yourself to sit in front of him, facing each other now. As you start to wash the rest of his arms, you see in his eyes that his thoughts are beginning to slip away, the events of the night calling him again. But you’re not having it. Nothing is taking Jason away from you tonight. Your goal, making him focus on you and only you.

“Can I tell you a story?” you say softly, your voice and the soft splash of water at the slightest movement the only sounds in the room.

Jason just shrugs his shoulders slightly. You nod as you focus on passing the sponge over his hands.

“It’s the story of a boy and a girl. About a wonderful boy and a girl who couldn’t believe her luck,” you begin. “One freezing winter afternoon, the girl slipped on some ice and the guy caught her by the waist, saving her from a pretty hurtful fate, though she almost brought him down with her. She apologized profusely as her cheeks warmed not only because of the embarrassment but because the man who’d caught her was the most handsome one she’d ever seen. But in her haste to step back from the stranger to try and save some embarrassment, she slipped on the ice again and he saved her once again.”

Jason can’t help the small smile that pulls at his lips. Because the story that you’re telling isn’t just any story. It’s your story. The story of how you met.

He wonders how you always knew exactly what to say. Hell, you could just be reading the grocery list out loud and he’d think that you deserved a Nobel Prize in Literature just because it came from you.

The sight of Jason’s smile pulls your lips into one too, and it warms your heart just like his worried gaze had done to your cheeks that very first day.

Both of you remember that day as clear as day, though neither of you could have ever anticipated how important it would be, how it had changed the course of your lives. You can still perfectly recall how he had cleared his throat awkwardly after catching you for the second time and his You alright, miss? How breathy his voice had sounded, as if something had taken his breath away, his heavy lower Gotham accent that had both surprised you and stirred something within you, and how vivid the green in his eyes was.

Just as bright as it is now as you continue the story. The shine that was always there whenever he looked at you.

“She had been pretty awkward, and she still can't believe how she’d managed to pull the kindest and hottest man in all of Gotham, the world even.” Jason snorts and you throw him a look, telling him not to question you because if there is one universal truth in this world—apart from the fact that a single man in possession of good fortune, must be in want of a wife—is that Jason Todd is the kindest and most gorgeous man that you have ever met.

“Though later he would reveal that he had found her nothing but endearing, despite what she might say about her awkwardness,” you continue.

Something about you already drawing him in. But just as quick as it all had happened, the moment passed by, and you two went your separate ways. Though not for long, because some time later, another afternoon, you were walking home when a running figure turned the corner and clashed into you. As you took a couple steps back to stabilize yourself you realized that you were head to head with the Red Hood. Which was strange since the sun was still setting and he had never been seen other than at night.

Jason hadn't planned on starting patrol so early but Tim had tipped him that some guys that he was after were having a meet up and Jason decided to give them a little surprise. Though that plan flew out the metaphorical window in the room of his mind as soon as he saw you again.

He had tried to forget the encounter in which he had saved the most beautiful girl that he’d ever seen from tumbling to the ground, and just as it seemed like he was about to succeed (not really, but at least manage to push the encounter to the back of his mind instead of your soft voice plaguing his every waking moment), he ran into you.

He stared at you bewildered, not believing that it was you, the sweet girl from the ice, and he was at a loss for words.

“Sorry,” you had said and at the sound of your voice he finally came out of his daze and shook his head.

“No need, it was my fault." He tilted his head. “You okay, miss?” You nodded, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down your spine at how similar he had sounded to your ice savior, his voice ingrained in your mind. And as much as Jason would have loved to stay there with you for a bit longer and hopefully learn your name, he had to get going, so he apologized again and you watched as he left.

And that should have been it. But somehow, it seemed like the universe had other ideas, crossing your paths later once again. And then one thing led to another and here you were now, sharing laundry and rent. Who would have thought? Certainly not you, when those strong arms caught you and you had no idea that they would become the place where you would feel the safest in.

Home.

Jason keeps listening as you finish recalling the start of your relationship. “And so their adventure together began. The clumsy girl from the ice and the boy that despite his rough exterior, had the gentlest, bravest, most selfless and most beautiful heart that she’d ever come to know.”

You finish the story with an enamored smile on your lips, the sweet memories fueling even more your love for him. A love and reassurance that you hope you have been able to convey in the story.

Jason sits in front of you with a small smile of his own, his heart beating golden light through his body, the love that you put there. His body finally relaxed and at peace, your hands holding his.

But then the smile falls from your lips as you see his eyes glass over. And even before he starts to tremble you pull him into you, wrapping your arms around him, his face hidden in your neck, his own arms snaking around you, holding you tight. And as the first tremors shake his shoulders, the first tears start to fall.

And you hold him through it. Taking everything that he needs to let go of in stride.

Because without the armor that he had built to keep his emotions at bay, swimming in the guilt and regret, once he finally relaxes, accepts that he’s safe and allows himself to be vulnerable, the dam breaks. And all the feelings come tumbling over.

The impotence. The sadness. The failure.

He’s not outright sobbing, the feelings working slowly but surely through him one by one. His body trembles slightly, a few tears falling onto your shoulder and a couple of sniffles here and there.

“I- I couldn’t-” He shakes his head and keeps silent once again. The first words that he’s said since he came home. The cracks in his broken voice forming ones in your heart. It stings more than salt in an open wound. You hold him as tight as you can. It’s like he needs to exteriorize these feelings and his body is allowing him to, but his voice can’t even go further than repeating that phrase over and over again. You shush him gently, letting him know that he doesn’t need to force himself to say anything. You’re here for him and that’s all that matters.

“It’s okay. You did everything you could, Jason. You’re a good man,” you whisper, trying to soothe the torture that he’s submitting himself to. But he shakes his head even more vehemently at your reassuring words and beautiful thoughts of him. Right now they don’t make any sense to him with how much he failed tonight. He’s not brave. He’s not kind. And he certainly isn’t good. He doesn’t know how you can say all of those things about him when he couldn’t-

You feel his internal monologue with how the time between his trembles, tears, and sniffles stretches. He’s lost in his head again. Thinking instead of feeling.

“Jason, hey, no. Stop,” you whisper gently but firmly. You unwind your arms from around him and take his head in your hands, holding his forehead to yours, looking into his eyes though his gaze avoids you.

“You are good. You’re kind, stubborn, funny, brave, determined, sarcastic, gentle, and loving. You’re all of those things. And sometimes things just go wrong and you can’t do anything to prevent them. You didn’t make any mistakes tonight, okay?” You don’t actually think that he can do anything wrong but you keep that to yourself. “Not being able to prevent something bad doesn’t make you any less of a good person.”

You can see how the thoughts race in his eyes.

“Jason. Look at me.” He finally locks eyes with you. “You know I’m not good at lying so listen to me when I say this. Whatever happened tonight is not your fault. You can cry. You should cry. You have to let go of everything that is storming inside you. What I’m not letting you do is convince yourself that you’re not good enough. Because you are, you hear me? You are.” You can’t help the tears that begin to prick at the corners of your eyes.

“I love you and I’m always going to be here for you for whatever you need, okay?” As a tear slips from your eye, Jason nods and hides in your neck again, letting his tears flow again. Letting himself feel. You envelop him in your arms once again.

“Okay,” he mutters against your skin. You sigh in relief and start to trace long shapes on his back.

You two stay there for a while, until both of you stop crying and his breathing returns to normal. And then you stay a little longer, just holding each other, Jason letting himself get lost in your soft skin and soothing scent, finally, finally, letting the night go. At least for now.

And then even a little longer, until the water turns lukewarm and a chill runs through your bodies.

“Want to go to bed?” you ask softly, threading your fingers through his hair, brushing away the damp strands falling on his forehead.

He nods slowly, lifting his head from your neck. “Thank you,” he whispers. You shake your head and he knows what you mean, You don’t have to thank me, I’d do anything for you.

“Come on,” you say and get up, offering him your hands. He takes them and gets up as well. You let the tub drain and step out of it, Jason following you. You quickly wrap Jason in a towel and then do the same with yourself. When you're done, he takes one of your hands gently and, while looking deep into your eyes, he kisses your knuckles. Thank you.

This time your gaze softens and you rest your hand against his heart. Of course.

After drying off you put your sleeping clothes back on and when you see Jason with the briefs that you brought already on and reaching towards the sweatpants, you gently swat his hand away. Let me take care of you.

He raises his hands in surrender and takes a step away from his clothes. Yes, ma’am.

“Are you hurt anywhere? Do you need me to patch you up?” He doesn’t seem to have any injury but you want to make sure. He shakes his head. You arch an eyebrow. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’s tried to lie to you about that. He nods, extending his arms so that you can examine him, showing how he doesn’t have any wounds. You wait for a beat before nodding.

You help him get dressed and all the while his fond gaze follows you. He’s sure that the best feeling in the world is being taken care of by you. That sunshine feeling blooming again in his chest. You’re so bright and he’s just so- No. He’s promised that he isn’t going to think like that anymore. At least not more tonight.

He follows your directions as you make him sit on the toilet and watches as you comb his hair. But then he can’t help but close his eyes at how relaxed he feels under your care. When you’re done you kiss his forehead and he hums as you run your hand through his hair. When he opens his eyes again, you’re extending a hand to him and he takes it without hesitation.

You turn off the bathroom light and guide him to the bedroom. You climb into bed, your side always the furthest one from the door, no matter where you are, at home, at the manor, or traveling, Jason makes sure of that, and you open your arms, inviting him into your embrace. Jason gets into bed, laying half on top of you, and wraps his arms around your waist as he nuzzles into your neck, your legs tangled. You drape the covers over you both, practically burying yourselves under them and wrap your arms around him, protecting him from anything that could hurt him. Your very own cocoon.

He gives your waist a slight squeeze. I love you. You kiss his hair in return, hugging him even tighter.

And as you hold him tight, the two of you know that what happened tonight out there would still haunt Jason despite all your reassurances. But just as you know that, you also know that you’re always going to be there for him. To love him and care for him. So, for tonight, Jason lets himself be lulled to sleep by the sound of your heart. Each rhythmic thump thump telling him, I got you, you’re okay, I love you, over and over again.

Just like for you with him, your arms the place where he feels safest in. Home.

Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

[zorosangell]

zoro x mihawk daughter! reader 👁️👁️

⛥ﾟ・。 nurse

synopsis: a mysterious man crash lands on your gloomy island, and you patch him up... unaware of his odd relationship with your father.

cw: part 1/3, fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro is a lovable idiot, reader's a bit soft spoken, reader is FIONE, i imagine she dresses like morticia addams but its not explicitly described, mihawk clocks zoro's tea a lil bit

a/n: what i would give to bandage this man up myself

"Never thought I'd see the day..." you sighed, grabbing a vase of water off the end table.

The sound of clanking and pouring echoed throughout the room, slowly waking the swordsman up.

"A man on this island..."

Zoro fluttered his eyes open, the golden rays of morning light ushering him back to the land of the living.

'I'm... alive? ...But where am I?'

"Morning," you greeted, softly, a warm smile on your face as you approached the bed. "You scared me for a moment. With the rough shape you landed in, I thought you were dead for sure."

Suddenly, his eyes shot wide, memories from Sabaody all rushing back.

Pacifistas.

Sentomaru.

Kizaru.

The crew.

Now fully awake, he greeted the world with a deafening yell, you letting out an equally loud shriek of surprise.

And, in your fear, you dropped the entire vase and fell backward, too occupied with trying to back away from the screaming man.

Hearing the commotion, Zoro shut up, weakly turning to see its source.

You had managed to retreat into the shadows, hiding yourself from the intruder.

"Who are you?" he asked, sharply, eyes zeroed in on your silhouette. "Where am I? And why are you here?"

"I could ask you he same..." you replied, warily. "And don't scream like that again. You're not dying, I made sure of that."

Painfully, he swung his feet over the edge of the bed, letting out a few winces and curses as he attempted to stand up.

He was missing a familiar weight on his hip.

"What did you do with my swords?!" he barked.

"I'm keeping them hidden until I can ensure you're not a threat."

Brows furrowed deeply, Zoro grit his teeth, thoroughly pissed.

"I'm warning you..." he stood on shaky legs, attempting to step forward, only to fall on his knees.

Guilty, you let out a sigh, suddenly feeling sorry for his poor shape.

"Sir, please, get back in bed. You'll re-open your wounds," you sighed, imploringly, moving forward to help him up.

Annoyed, Zoro scanned the area, eyes landing on your figure as you emerged from the shadows, widening at the sight as your hips swayed side to side.

Long, (h/c) hair...

Plump lips...

Heavenly curves, made evident by your long, black dress...

Smooth brown skin...

Alluring, (e/c) eyes....

Goddamn.

'Curlybrow'd lose his mind...'

You were dripping in beauty and mystery.

Zoro, so mesmerized, didn't even realize that you'd already cruised your way over, and were now standing directly in front of him, helping him up.

"I found you laying in a crater in the woods, unconscious," you explained, pulling him back to the bed. "You looked two steps from death's door... so I brought you back here, and tried to fix you up the best I could."

It was almost funny.

You had little to no medical knowledge at all, so majority of the first few days was spent teaching yourself how to do it all.

With a smile, you sat him down, "I'm glad to see you're alright."

But Zoro didn't register a single word.

He couldn't help but allow his mind to drift to the way your lips moved, enunciating each syllable so smoothly.

Though, when he realized you'd stopped speaking, his eyes found yours, an embarrassed glow rising to his cheeks.

"I... uh... can you repeat that?" he replied, bluntly.

This was the first time he was talking to you, and he wasn't even paying attention.

It was easy to say you were a little irked.

"I'll get you your swords," you sighed, flatly, giving up on any hope of conversation as you turned around to exit the room.

Without giving him a chance to speak, you walked away, hair swishing across your back as you moved.

Zoro, on the other hand, still sat there, more flustered than he'd been in a long time.

He thought back to how close your body was to his, your breast slightly rubbing against his back as you helped him up.

Watching you strut out the room, his gaze drifted to your backside, internally cursing himself for being so pervy.

Something about you flipped a switch in him—be it your mystery or your unspoken grace—and he had never found himself so entranced and intrigued in all his life.

And all you did was talk to him.

'The hell's wrong with me?'

This was the type of behavior one expected from Sanji or Brook.

Not him.

Not the cool-headed swordsman.

Not the Roronoa Zoro.

Hand rising to his face, he roughly shook his head, snapping himself out of it.

"I gotta get the hell out of here..."

"Father, please, I—"

"Not only did you bring an unknown man into our home while I was away..." Mihawk started, tone sharp as he cut you off.

You flinched, instantly piping down as you took a step back, hanging your head.

He hadn't taken such a tone with you since your teen years.

"But you nursed him back to health... and returned him his weapons before confirming that he was of no threat."

Hearing it laid out like that, you sounded stupid.

But in the moment, you swore that Zoro meant you no harm, your observation haki not sensing any malice or ill-intent even when he was yelling at you.

"He's not unknown to you, Father, you've met him before," you attempted to plead your case, albeit quietly. "And from what you've said about him, he's perfectly honorable. He wouldn't have hurt me."

"You didn't know that," he corrected, brows furrowed. "For all you knew, he could've slit your throat the moment you lost sight of him."

"That's a little extreme..."

"That's the world."

After returning Zoro's swords, you left to go make him something to eat, but returned to find that he had escaped.

Frantic, you searched the castle for hours, combing through every nook and cranny in an attempt to find the swordsman.

But, of course, it would be your luck that your father would find him upon arrival—somehow he had found his way through the woods and to the ruins where he attempted to fight off some of your monkey friends.

Safe to say, when your father finally arrived home, he was less than pleased.

Even still, you patched up the swordsman once again, unable to leave him in such a precarious state.

"Father, please try to understand. I was only trying to—"

You stopped in your tracks, both you and the warlord sensing a new presence.

And, like clockwork, the man of the hour weakly pushed open the door, heaving, as he seemed to be struggling to keep himself upright.

Worried, your brows furrowed, concerned for his health.

"What are you doing out of bed?" you asked, softly, "You're hurt... bad."

But Zoro pressed forward, using the sheaths of his swords as walking sticks as he approached your father.

"You shouldn't be walking in this condition... you can barely stan—"

Suddenly, he dropped to his knees, bowing his head before his arch rival, much to your surprise.

"Will you... train me as a swordsman?" Zoro asked, fervently, pressing his forehead into the stone floor.

He'd managed to take a look at the News Coo you left on the end table, discovering Luffy's message to reunite in two years.

Which meant that the whole crew would have to get significantly stronger if they wanted any hope of surviving in the New World.

Him included.

"You disappoint me," Mihawk stated, brows furrowed. "Stand up."

He turned away from the sight, annoyance dripping from his tone.

"I can't believe you would ask your enemy for instruction... Have you no shame?"

He rolled his eyes, swirling around his wine glass.

"Get out of here. This is pathetic," he scoffed. "A pity, perhaps, but I overestimated your worth."

'Father...'

You felt bad about his harsh words, not wanting him to kick a man while he was down.

But the swordsman didn't budge, remaining in his exact position without fault.

"I said stand up... you're making a fool of yourself."

"Please help me!" Zoro tried once again, not moving an inch.

"First of all, the baboons beat you... and even after that, you couldn't make it to sea," Mihawk shrugged, taking a sip of his wine. "I can't help you. It's hopeless."

"They didn't beat me."

The two of you froze for a moment, shocked.

'No way... did he really?'

"You're the only one left to take down... but, I'm just not good enough to win against you the way I am now. Anybody can see that."

"I don't follow," Mihawk stated. "Clearly, you still consider me your enemy, yet here you are bowing down, begging for my help."

Zoro lifted his head, his expression one only attributed to a man on a mission.

"What do you mean to do?"

The swordsman's glare sharpened, not a doubt in his mind.

"Kill you, of course."

With that, your father let out an amused laugh, a rare smile cracking on his lips.

"You admit you want to kill me, and you expect me to assist you in that?" he asked, knowingly. "You're strange. What a ridiculous request. Aren't you the least bit embarrassed?"

Though he was quick to reel it in, a new question popping into his mind.

"Perhaps... your priorities are different now, Roronoa?"

Zoro's breath hitched at the insinuation, slightly surprised by his perceptiveness.

"(y/n)..." you father turned to you by his side. "Tend to his injuries."

(y/n).

'So, that's her name...'

It was oddly fitting.

With a quiet nod, you stepped forward, silently heading toward the door.

"We start your training once you've recovered."

At that, Zoro's face lit up, gratefully.

It was finally time to get stronger.

Throughout the entire two years, he poured his blood, sweat, and tears into his training, working diligently to become the reliable swordsman Luffy knew him to be.

But, little did he know, those two years would bring him ever closer to you, as well, as you acted as his personal nurse and cheerleader on the sidelines.

You two would become inseparable, spending your days together as you watched him train, cooked him dinner, did his laundry.

Your presence and company became as constant as he air he breathed.

So, when the day finally came for him to depart, it was safe to say that both sides had a particularly hard time letting go...

To be continued.

[cosmokrill]

Stay safe! Make sure to use Discord on safe browsers like Chrome or any Chromium-based browser until Discord sends out a patch!

You don't want Ford to send you a .webp file on the Discord app and, just by viewing it, be infected with whatever malware he hid inside that funny picture! As cute as that face is, you can't trust them!

In all seriousness though, do stay safe. Considering it's a zero day exploit, Discord is going to roll out a patch asap. But until then, we will have to stick with browser Discord.

Here are some helpful articles, so you can stay informed!

CVE-2023-5129 is currently still a very real threat for apps such as Slack, Discord, Skype, Visual Studio Code, Twitch, Microsoft Teams, and the Github app.

Many browsers, such as Google Chrome, Firefox, Brave, and Opera have rolled out patches so as long as you update your browser you'll be all good!

[cyber-sec]

𝗪𝗲𝗲𝗸𝗹𝘆 𝗖𝘆𝗯𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗡𝗲𝘄𝘀 𝗥𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘂𝗽 | 𝟮𝟳 𝗝𝗮𝗻 – 𝟮 𝗙𝗲𝗯 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟱

1️⃣ 𝗥𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗲𝗱. 100+ Vulnerabilities in LTE & 5G Core Networks Exposed: A security audit uncovered 119 vulnerabilities, risking DoS attacks and remote compromise.

Source: https://cellularsecurity.org/ransacked

2️⃣ 𝗦𝘂𝗯𝗮𝗿𝘂 𝗙𝗹𝗮𝘄 𝗘𝗻𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗥𝗲𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗲 𝗩𝗲𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗹𝗲 𝗛𝗶𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴. Flaw in Subaru’s STARLINK system allowed remote access. Patch deployed quickly.

Source: https://samcurry.net/hacking-subaru

3️⃣ 𝗥𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗼𝗺𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗘𝗦𝗫𝗶. Attackers exploit unmonitored ESXi servers for covert C2C channels.

Source: https://www.sygnia.co/blog/esxi-ransomware-ssh-tunneling-defense-strategies/

4️⃣ 𝗔𝗽𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗖𝗣𝗨 𝗦𝗶𝗱𝗲-𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗹 𝗔𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀. M2/M3 CPU flaws allow extraction of sensitive data.

Source: https://predictors.fail/

5️⃣ 𝗭𝘆𝗫𝗲𝗹 𝗭𝗲𝗿𝗼-𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝗘𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗱. A critical flaw in Zyxel devices is actively being targeted.

Source: https://www.greynoise.io/blog/active-exploitation-of-zero-day-zyxel-cpe-vulnerability-cve-2024-40891

𝗔𝗜 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗖𝘆𝗯𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗛𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀

🟢 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗲-𝗦𝗽𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗔𝗣𝗧𝘀 𝗟𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗔𝗜: Over 20 APT groups use Google's Gemini AI for malware development.

Source: https://cloud.google.com/blog/topics/threat-intelligence/adversarial-misuse-generative-ai

🟠 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗚𝗣𝗧 𝗝𝗮𝗶𝗹𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝗘𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗧𝗲𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗹 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗳𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻. The "Time Bandit" jailbreak bypasses ChatGPT safeguards with "temporal confusion".

Source: https://www.bleepingcomputer.com/news/security/time-bandit-chatgpt-jailbreak-bypasses-safeguards-on-sensitive-topics/

🔴 𝗗𝗲𝗲𝗽𝗦𝗲𝗲𝗸 𝗦𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗿𝗻𝘀. Exposed DeepSeek database leaks sensitive model data.

Source: https://www.wiz.io/blog/wiz-research-uncovers-exposed-deepseek-database-leak

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #14: An Apple a Day (Does Not Keep the Paladin Away)

Prompt: clear || Master Post || On AO3

A/N: Spoilers through patch 6.4: The Dark Throne.

--

The sky is so blue.

Zero’s memories of the Memoriate War, before the Thirteenth and all its people drowned in ever-darkness, are still patchwork and hazy, but watching the heavens from the Radz-at-Han airship docks, she’s reminded that once, the Thirteenth had skies the same color.

Today, she sits along one of the city’s outer walls, watching the flow of traffic heading to and from Palaka’s Stand and the port at Yedlihmad, drinking in the sounds and the colors of a living city, a living nation. She nibbles on an apple absently, and she relearning how to enjoy the pleasure of eating. That first one she had eaten on the Source, she was still trying to remember the physical act of eating, tearing with incisors and canines, grinding with molars, little thought given to texture and taste. Now, she remembers how to pick out the choicest apples from the bowl, avoid the ones with bruises or soft spots, remembers how to take a boot knife and peel the skin off in a single take, remembers that in some villages, mothers would take such fruit skins and fry them and dip them in honey as treats for their children.

Zero remembers she likes her apples a little sweeter, but the tartness of this one is refreshing, regardless. The last bite bursts as brightly across her tongue as did the first one, the flesh yielding with a satisfying crunch beneath her teeth.

“Mind if I join you?”

She turns at the familiar voice, and has to look up at the familiar smiling face of Dancing Heron. The roegadyn is out of her armor, dressed down in a yellow linen shirt that fairly glows against her copper skin and black trousers; her usual wear, at leisure in Radz-at-Han. But the swordswoman carries herself with the same tall surety she had that day in Garlemald, when she stood between Zero and hungry voidsent.

Zero shakes her head, and Heron easily swings herself up to sit next to her on the wall. Almost immediately, and without seeming to notice, Heron begins to tap the heels of her boots against the stone in some rhythm only she knows. Well, she and her sisters; put all four Warriors of Light up on a wall or cliff, legs dangling over the edge, and one will begin that hypnotic rhythm that all three pick up in chorus.

Heron doesn’t say anything as she takes out a bag of samosas from the pack slung around her shoulders, merely digs into her lunch, apparently perfectly content to sit in silence with Zero. For her part, Zero appreciates it; she is becoming more comfortable with those parts of herself that aren’t voidsent, but even before the Thirteenth died in the void, she had been a woman of few words, and too much chatters makes her uncomfortable. Heron’s silence is the most comfortable to bask in; Alakhai carries too much tension, ever ready to draw her knives against a threat even when she isn’t aware of doing it, and Estinien often ends up restless, leaping off to join the Radiant Host in their training.

Zero leans back on her hands, eyes drawn skyward once more. On the distant horizon, grey clouds boil, a heavy storm to bring cool rain to Radz-at-Han and wash away the inevitable dust roused by so many travelers and traders and bustling residents. But the perfect, painful blue keeps her attention, and even without clouds to chase, it is so easy to get lost in that infinity.

A sound causes her to start, and Zero cants her head to the side to see Heron rummaging in her pack, much deeper than possible, and Zero blinks at the strange sight of the roegadyn up to her shoulders in a pack not much larger than a melon before she remembers Synnove’s ability to enchant items so that they were bigger on the inside. Heron herself is muttering, too low for Zero to make out the words, before a triumphant noise leaves her lips and she pulls back, two apples in hand. Heron grins, and turns to hold one out to Zero.

“Want one?” she says. “The market here carries a lot apples from the La Noscean orchards, but this one is from Gridania, s’called a honey queen.”

“Thank you,” Zero says, reaching out to pluck the apple from Heron’s grasp; she knows better now than to refuse a freely-offered gift, especially from Heron. Zero will not win against the other woman’s inherent, cheerful stubbornness.

She examines the apple curiously; it’s only a little smaller than the ones that grace the Satrap’s tables, and its skin is a mix of yellow and pink, rather than glistening red. But the flesh is firm even with her gloves in the way to dull her tactile senses, and the smell is the same. She lifts the fruit to her lips, and takes a bite.

Sweet floods her mouth in a heady rush, and Zero’s eyes go wide. Her toes curl in her boots, and the noise she emits is less a moan and more a squeak. She chews quickly in order to swallow, then takes a larger bite, but this one she savors. A well-named cultivar indeed: the sweetness rolls as thick and heady as honey across her palate and she rolls this bite from one side of her mouth to the other, a content hum escaping her as she slowly chews it into juice.

Next to her, Dancing Heron is laughing, and Zero looks at her again. Heron’s eyes are crinkled, her pleasure at Zero’s own as obvious as the black of her hair.

“Glad I picked a good one!” Heron says. “I have a few more if you’re still hungry after that one.”

Something uncurls in Zero’s chest, pulsing soft and warm, and she can’t help but notice that Heron’s eyes are a perfect, painful, shining blue.

PREVIOUS || NEXT

[glitchedshark]

hello my friends, its been a while since i've been able to post art!

ive been cooking a sigma redesign in the background for quiet a while now. his current look and personality in the games is just.... bland to me. i dont find anything interesting in his motivations or appearance. its upsetting since wily from the OG series is so much fun. both of them are recurring bad guys for almost every game but sigma isnt as interesting as a villain as wily.

thoughts on my redesign are under the cut. and the ALT text contains transcripts of my handwriting!

The rising Maverick issue continued to worsen as more cases of violent reploid activity emerged. Reploid technology, since its recent discovery by Dr.Cain, has done so much to improve the quality of life of humanity. But like any emerging technology, there are risks.

Seeing the dangers of the Maverick threat, Dr.Cain once again provided his insight and assistance. He proposed the creation of a organization dedicated to hunting and eliminating Mavericks. The idea was eagerly accepted by the population. But the power of reploids far surpassed any human. If such an organization were to succeed, it must be placed under the care of other reploids.

Using research he unearthed alongside X, Dr.Cain designed the most advanced reploid to date. A design superior in both intellect and strength to lead the hunters and maintain peace for humanity. Sigma would be a protector, a leader, a pillar of virtue for reploids and humans alike to look up to in uncertain times.

He performed his duties to perfection. He oversaw every mission. Completed each one with absolute success. To the hunters and humans, Sigma truly was their hero and fearless leader. The few who knew him personally, like X and Dr.Cain, knew how he handled everything with care- it was a necessity of Sigma to be careful, of course. His strength was unmatched but also untested, and on more than one occasion he would break something in the earlier months of his creation. He would apologize profusely to the good Doctor Cain for an damages caused, to which the Doctor forgave him with a laugh.

Sigma was a perfect icon of the hunters promise to protect humanity. Then, on one mission, he encountered a Maverick like no other. A crimson machine of murderous intent and unstoppable power. Sigma nearly failed in his mission. He nearly lost his life to that thing. For the first time, Sigma knew fear.

He was damaged. He needed weeks-worth of repairs but the humans would not allow it. They needed him up and running immediately. So they patched up the worst of it, and threw on some reinforced armor and an support unit by the name of Velguarder to assist him. That worked well enough for their needs and with days Sigma was returned to his station- still with a scarred face to remind everyone of his previously unknown fallibility.

Sigma continued to perform his duties. He read every report given to him, he gave his hunters every reassurance, he meticulously handled every Maverick incident to prevent any casualty. Time passed. He was praised less for doing his job. He never had time to complete his repairs. His head hurt from the information he processed everyday. He did not know that could happen. The rest of his repairs kept getting pushed back. Too much to do. There are more mavericks everyday. That crimson killer joined their ranks. No one asked Sigma's approval. Zero is what they call him. No one asked Sigma. His head hurts more everyday. He still hasn't been repaired.

Months go by. He still wasn't allowed to be repaired. He asked once to have leave for a few days. THe Humans looked at him witH disbeLief. TOld him he couldn't ignore his duties. He nEeded to protect huManity. He needed to Care for theM. WHo was caring for Sigma? Who? WHO WAS CARING FOR HIM?

...

The Maverick Threat continues to rise. Sigma would like to announce to humanity that he is resigning from commander of the Maverick Hunters. You do not deserve his protection.

[techit-rp]

Role of ethical hackers in the fight against ransomware attacks

Ransomware attacks are now one of the most damaging cyber threats as they target not only businesses, healthcare systems, and educational institutions but also governments. These types of attacks lock up critical data and demand that a ransom be paid to decrypt it, leaving massive financial and reputational damages in their wake. In this high-stakes game of cyber warfare, the role of the ethical hacker has come into the picture as a vital player protecting organizations from ransomware attacks. Here's how these cyber guardians are making a difference.

What Are Ethical Hackers?

Ethical hackers are usually called "white-hat" hackers. These are cybersecurity experts who make use of their expertise to discover weaknesses in systems, networks, and applications before they can be exploited by cybercriminals. In contrast to cybercriminals, ethical hackers collaborate with organizations to build stronger defenses and achieve security compliance.

If you wish to become a part of this exclusive club of cyber defenders, you should take a course in cyber security and ethical hacking. This type of course will help you learn to think like a hacker so you can think ahead and eliminate possible threats.

Ransomware Threat Landscape

The attacks by ransomware have been very sophisticated. From using advanced phishing to exploiting zero-day vulnerabilities and even using artificial intelligence to target their victims, ransomware attackers have developed into highly skilled actors. In addition, Ransomware-as-a-Service (RaaS) platforms have further democratized these attacks, even making them possible for the less technically skilled cybercriminals.

Recent estimates suggest ransomware damages are expected to go above $30 billion annually by 2025. This growing threat requires aggressive cybersecurity measures that incorporate the input of ethical hackers.

How Ethical Hackers Fight Ransomware

Proactive Vulnerability Scanning Ethical hackers carry out vulnerability scans to scan the organization's infrastructure for vulnerable spots. Using a simulated ransomware attack, they can reveal how exposed an organization is to risk and implement relevant remediation efforts.

Penetration Testing Penetration testing is an attempt by ethical hackers to breach the defenses of an organization in a controlled environment. It shows security gaps and tests the effectiveness of existing measures.

Phishing Simulations and Training Since phishing is the most common vector for ransomware attacks, ethical hackers simulate phishing campaigns. These exercises train employees to recognize and respond to malicious emails, thus reducing the risk of a successful attack.

Incident Response and Recovery Incident response at ransomware strikes includes the input of ethical hackers to help contain an attack, understand a breach, and assist in retrieving encrypted files without paying any ransom.

Monitoring and Threat Intelligence Ethical hackers keep themselves aware of new emerging threats and the ransomware trend. The organizations would not miss being on their toes if ethical hackers help them build on new defensive systems and patches in place soon enough.

Becoming an Ethical Hacker

The demand for ethical hackers is rapidly increasing, considering the recognition that organizations from any industry require proactive cybersecurity. It is an integrated cyber security and ethical hacking course that would teach you how to be one. From penetration testing to advanced threat detection, courses provide you with hands-on exposure to real scenarios.

Conclusion

Ethical hackers are the unsung heroes in the fight against ransomware. Their proactive approach, technical expertise, and unwavering commitment to cybersecurity make them indispensable in safeguarding our digital world. If you’re passionate about technology and problem-solving, a career in ethical hacking could not only be rewarding but also instrumental in making the internet a safer place.

Enroll in a cyber security and ethical hacking course today and become part of the frontline defense against ransomware attacks. The world needs more defenders, and now is the starting point for that journey.

[wrestriction]

THE THINGS WE CARRY

pairing: toji fushiguro/satoru gojo rating: e (for explicit, eventually) notes: post-hidden inventory & canon divergent (toji lives), aged-up gojo (but warning for an age gap of about ten years), guys being weird about the intimacy of violence, sex pollen(-adjacent) plot contrivance in part two, gojussy

SO THE PARABLE GOES, two monks sworn to celibacy encounter a young woman at the bank of a river. The waters are swollen from days of rain, earth sodden and slippery, and the maiden — needing to return home — implores the pair to help her cross.

The younger monk defers to his sacred vows; he isn't to look at, let alone touch, a woman. He proceeds down the muddy swale without a second thought to her plight, resolute in his convictions.

The elder monk joins him not long after, but to the novice's horror, his companion has taken the young woman onto his shoulder. Wordlessly, the senior monk carries her across the river, setting her back down as soon as they reach land. She thanks them at length and departs from their company shortly thereafter.

The two monks travel on, and for hours, the younger monk stews on his mentor's indiscretion. The teachings are clear, well-established and immutable. Even as the day burns down into evening, the novice obsesses over how a tenet of their very way of life has been transgressed, turning it over again and again in his mind, until he finally snaps.

"How could you touch that woman?" he demands to know. "Have you forgotten yourself?"

The elder monk shakes his head and replies with pity for his young charge. "I set that woman down hours ago. Why are you still carrying her?"

I. THE WOUND

There's a misconception surrounding his Heavenly Restriction that Toji has never been able to shake. Whether that's because his lineage has begotten centuries of pure-blooded sadism, or because no one had ever bothered to listen to a discarded child explain the difference between durable and indestructible, is anyone's guess. Maybe it's not even a worthwhile distinction to make. The effect has always been the same regardless: somebody correctly or incorrectly assuming he can take punishment others simply cannot. It's that sort of mythmaking which builds up an overconfidence that Toji had long since thought he'd outgrown.

The hole in his side is mended now, patched up with fresh pink skin that sticks out like an aftermarket door on a newly repaired car. His left arm is similarly restored, two-thirds of its bulk gleaming with sorcery-patented collagen, courtesy of some teenage girl who could outsmoke a chimney like Shiu into tar, easy. He can barely recall the aftermath of that fight, but with a nose as sensitive as his, some memories linger harder than tobacco stains on eggshell paint.

By all accounts, Toji should be dead. It's nothing he doesn't deserve or wouldn't have doled out in return were the roles reversed. Too stubborn to listen to his intuition, too proud to admit an awakened Limitless user would've been hard to chew at the acme of his career as a sorcerer killer, to say nothing of now, after years of rehabilitated stagnation.

Instead, he waits — alive — in a nondescript cell, under what he suspects is the Tokyo jujutsu school compound, bathed in the orange glow of perpetual candlelight, with little more than a chair and futon to cycle through for comfort. Toji finds the seals lining every wall of his confines like posted bills to be a nice touch. Feels good to be considered a threat, still. Enriching to think some idiot in a suit believes 1) he's dangerous enough to warrant the effort, and 2) that warding talismans are anything more than home furnishings to a man with zero cursed energy of his own.

Days go by. Then weeks. Necessities appear, miraculously, while Toji sleeps — and only when he sleeps. He's tried, of course, to feign rest in the hopes of catching his attendant in the act, get some leverage going in a hostage situation, but they're cautious. Probably wise to him, knowing the trouble he's caused over the last decade. He doesn't blame them, but the monotony of imprisonment is maddening. At times, Toji wonders if that chainsmoking sorcerer really fucked him by healing that yawning void the Six Eyes left in his chest, rather than just letting him bleed out and be done with it.

The new muscles ache more today than they normally do. So much so, in fact, that their nagging pangs stir him from some overplayed dream spliced together from scraps of his youth. His eyes aren't even open yet when he realizes he's not alone in the room. The cursed energy stands out, first. Silvery and sharp in the air, but ubiquitous, oppressive like summer humidity in Okinawa. He recognizes it immediately, even before he's met with the other familiar sensory cues — the scent of white tea and peach from some upscale-brand toiletry, frictive squeak of high-quality rubber soles on wood. That smug voice, self-assured even with a blade goring him through the breast.

[ read the rest here! ]

[zerosecurity]

Zero-Day CVE-2024-24919 Discovered in Check Point's VPN Software

Cybersecurity software vendor Check Point has issued a critical warning to customers, urging them to update their software immediately due to a zero-day vulnerability in their Virtual Private Network (VPN) products that is actively being exploited by attackers. The vulnerability, assigned CVE-2024-24919 and a CVSS score of 8.6 (high severity), affects Check Point's CloudGuard Network, Quantum Maestro, Quantum Scalable Chassis, Quantum Security Gateways, and Quantum Spark Appliances.

VPN Exploit Targets Older Local Accounts

According to Check Point's advisory, the vulnerability involves attackers "using old VPN local accounts relying on unrecommended password-only authentication method." The company strongly recommends against relying solely on password authentication for logging into network infrastructure, emphasizing that it is an unfavorable method for ensuring the highest levels of cybersecurity.

Potential Impact and Lateral Movement

If successfully exploited, the vulnerability could grant an attacker access to sensitive information on a security gateway, as well as enable lateral movement within the network with domain administrator privileges. Threat intelligence firm Mnemonic, which was contacted by Check Point regarding the vulnerability, has confirmed that the exploit allows threat actors to retrieve all files on the local filesystem, including password hashes for local accounts, SSH keys, certificates, and other critical files.

Patches Available and Recommended Mitigations

Check Point has released patches for all affected systems, and customers are strongly advised to apply the updates as soon as possible. In addition to installing the patches, Check Point recommends hardening VPN posture by implementing multi-factor authentication (MFA) and reviewing and removing unnecessary local VPN accounts. For any necessary local accounts, additional authentication measures should be added to mitigate the risk of exploitation. The actively exploited zero-day vulnerability in Check Point's VPN products underscores the importance of promptly applying security updates and following best practices. While implementing MFA can be a hassle, the consequences of a data breach or network compromise can be far more severe. Organizations using affected Check Point products are urged to take immediate action to secure their systems and protect their valuable data and infrastructure. Read the full article

[forsakenmissives]

A Question That Has Never Been Posed Before

“There’s something about you, Merlin - I can’t quite put my finger on it.” Arthur's not an idiot; he can see the glimmer of gold in Merlin's eyes. But he's hesitant to call Merlin evil, and he's even more hesitant to call Merlin out on his sorcery. He won't lose any more than a night's sleep over the boy, however, and he certainly won't try to figure out what it is about the boy that has him so captivated. He won't. [A sort-of fix-it to 1x01.]

Rating: G

Word Count: 1.1k

Full text and author's notes under the cut.

Or, read on AO3.

A/N: Written for Merlin Watch 2023! I’ll try to do something for every episode, but no promises, LOL. Thanks for suggesting this little challenge/event, @bellamyblakru! ^_^

Title taken from episode one, too. Not beta'd.

...

Despite popular belief, Arthur is not an idiot. In fact, it may be that he’s the smartest of them all, and everyone else is bumbling, absolutely dumb.

Because here is this Merlin, some commoner – no, some peasant! – with zero muscle mass (Arthur is surprised he can even handle the flail), looking like a twig always one strong wind away from breaking, words lilted and movements clumsy, and Merlin may be the stupidest of all because, contrary to expectation, Arthur is not an idiot, and he can see the glimmer of gold in Merlin’s eyes when he stumbles back, when he trips on a rope, when his foot gets caught in a bucket. It’s a shaded area, for God’s sake! Arthur can appreciate a good romantic description, but even he knows blue eyes don’t turn gold in the sun, and most definitely not when they’re in the shade.

But also Merlin hasn’t actually tried to kill him, and Merlin is clearly more of a threat to himself than to Arthur or anyone else, and Arthur is still physically stronger than him, and he knocks that confidence out of him easily, leaving the patch-up process to Gaius. Arthur doesn’t know what to make of it, and he doesn’t know what to make of the old physician, who levels Merlin with a glare that says… something, that suggests he knows of whatever it is that may make Arthur softer on the boy. At least, as soft as not immediately having him executed for sorcery is.

       ✶ ‎

That night, he finds himself hopelessly awake, thinking of the fool. He meant what he’d said – there was something about Merlin. Not just the magic, but his fire, that spark that had him standing up to Arthur in a way no one else ever had. Arthur liked to think himself not so easily swayed, he was more than a moth and Merlin was not an actual flame, but he found himself caught anyway. 

Logic said all magic is evil, and perhaps logic sounded an awful lot like Uther, but the man was king for a reason. Arthur rolls over, staring at the wall until the shadows all merge into one, a phantom figure dancing about the room. He squeezes his eyes shut, brows furrowing. He’d only met the boy a day ago. He’s met kings of distant lands, countless beautiful princesses dressed in the finest fabrics and draped with jewels, bards with tales of epic romance, of knights defeating dragons, knights whose descriptions tended to greatly match Arthur’s – Arthur has met a vast array of people, more than an ordinary man could hope of meeting, and none have captured his attention quite like Merlin.

God. He’d only met the boy a day ago!

Arthur grabs one of his many pillows and puts it over his face. He does nothing as undignified as yell into it, but he squeezes it rather tight and wonders if perhaps suffocation is the only solution to his insomnia. It would certainly put an end to his problems. If only for a little bit.

       ✶ ‎

Arthur’s not sure if it’s a sign of his intelligence or if it’s just another part of that something Merlin has that makes him hypersensitive to magic. Surely he hasn’t always been this aware of it? Then again, what magic has been performed around him before? 

He can’t do anything about the Lady Helen – or not Lady Helen, he supposes, as his father would surely never invite the woman to Camelot, no matter how good a singer, if he suspected she so much as asked about magic – but as it turns out, he doesn’t have to. Merlin is there, still shadowing Gaius, still just in Arthur’s periphery, and Arthur doesn’t know if his eyes were blue or gold or if he said something to have the chandelier be up one second and down the next, but he does know – suddenly – his actions are not caught up with his mind. 

He wants to look to Uther, to see if the king has any clue what sort of web they’re caught in now, but his eyes do not move, only his thoughts racing from one point to the next, and his muscles only catch up to his mind when he’s on the floor, tucked under one of Merlin’s twig arms, staring at the dagger embedded in the chair he’d just been in front of.

Arthur rolls away from the boy and pushes himself up from the ground. He does not help Merlin back up. Uther is saying something, praising Merlin in that roundabout way he does when someone is finally worthy of it, thanking the boy, but Arthur can’t give the exact words Uther uses because he knows Merlin has magic, he has felt Merlin’s magic, whatever it did to him and the rest of the hall in those agonising, extended seconds, and because he knows Merlin has just used magic to save him – magic saved him. He swallows, finally turning to his father, who seems completely unaware of just how exactly Merlin saved his son’s life. It’s hard to reconcile his father’s insistence in reward with the gold he’s seen in Merlin’s eyes, with the feel of his heart as it slowed its pounding in his chest. 

It’s only when Uther gets to the specifics that Arthur’s ears register what they’re hearing. “You shall be awarded a position in the royal household. You shall be Prince Arthur’s manservant.” His father looks proud, like he doesn’t know what he’s just allowed inside, like he doesn’t know the turmoil he’s set off in his son’s still-pounding heart. Arthur’s voice cracks as he protests, so strongly opposed to the idea he is, but Uther only nods decisively and strides off, certain that he knows what’s best.

As Arthur has just learnt, been forced to learn very quickly, he does not always know what’s best. He turns to Merlin, who looks equally unamused and extremely ungrateful, and Arthur swallows down a groan. Magic is not something he’s ready to get acquainted with, but it seems he has no choice. Perhaps this could be a blessing in disguise – there’s that something about Merlin, only intensified after his sudden bout of heroism. This new role could help Arthur figure out what exactly it is. Arthur watches Merlin stumble over air on his way over to Gaius. Or… perhaps some questions, no one is quite ready for their answers.

...

A/N: Is this OOC and puts way too much faith into Series 1 Arthur? Yes. Do I care? Yes, but I'm being so brave about it. But, like, sorry, but all of y'all townspeople are insane if y'all can't see Merlin's obviously blue eyes go gold out of nowhere. Like... be serious. I say this all in good fun, though; I love you, BBC Merlin, my beloved little comfort show. Thank you for the laughs.

Also, I'd consider it completely AU'esque as canon has proven it very untrue, but still, I love the idea of Arthur's birth leading him to pick up on nearby magic users or creatures. Gaydar? Nah, Arthur only has mage-dar.

Anyway, again, this is also posted to my AO3, so please consider giving it a kudos and a comment there if you enjoyed! And if you're reading it here, it would mean the world if you not only liked this post but also reblogged it. ^_^ Besitos!

[sanjanabia]

Unmasking the Invisible: Ethical Hackers and the Art of Vulnerability Hunting

In today's digital age, our reliance on technology has created a vast and interconnected landscape. While this interconnectedness offers undeniable benefits, it also introduces vulnerabilities – chinks in the armor that can be exploited by malicious actors. Imagine a grand castle, its walls seemingly impenetrable. But what if there were hidden weaknesses, unseen passages known only to a select few? This is where ethical hackers, the unsung heroes of cybersecurity, come in. They are the vulnerability hunters, the digital detectives on a relentless quest to identify and expose these weaknesses before they can be used for malicious purposes.

This blog delves into the fascinating world of vulnerability hunting, exploring the role of ethical hackers in safeguarding our digital assets. We'll uncover the techniques they employ, the challenges they face, and the importance of cyber security training Mumbai for fostering a skilled workforce of ethical hackers.

The Invisible Threat: Unveiling Vulnerabilities

Imagine a digital thief attempting to break into a bank vault. They wouldn't simply smash through the front door; they'd meticulously search for weaknesses – a faulty security system, a hidden ventilation shaft. Similarly, vulnerabilities in software, hardware, and network configurations act as those hidden access points for malicious hackers. These vulnerabilities can be:

Software Bugs: Errors in the code that can be exploited to gain unauthorized access or cause unexpected behavior.

Misconfigurations: Improper settings in network devices or software applications that create security gaps.

Zero-Day Attacks: Previously unknown vulnerabilities that attackers exploit before software vendors have a chance to issue a patch.

These vulnerabilities are often invisible to the untrained eye. This is where ethical hackers, also known as white hats, step in. They act as the security guardians, wielding specialized tools and techniques to hunt for these hidden weaknesses.

The Art of the Hunt: Techniques of a Vulnerability Hunter

Ethical hackers employ a diverse arsenal of techniques in their pursuit of vulnerabilities. Here are some of the most common methods which you can learn in cyber security training mumbai :

Network Scanning: Ethical hackers use specialized tools to scan networks and identify devices, open ports, and potential security weaknesses.

Penetration Testing: This involves simulating a cyberattack to identify vulnerabilities that could be exploited by malicious actors. Ethical hackers attempt to gain unauthorized access to systems using various techniques, mimicking the methods black hats might employ.

Social Engineering Testing: This involves testing the organization's security awareness by attempting to trick employees into revealing sensitive information or clicking on malicious links.

Code Review: Ethical hackers meticulously examine the code of software applications to identify potential vulnerabilities and bugs.

These techniques require a deep understanding of cybersecurity principles, programming languages, and hacking methodologies. Cyber security training Mumbai can equip individuals with the necessary skills and knowledge to become proficient vulnerability hunters.

The Challenges of the Hunt: A Constant Cat-and-Mouse Game

The world of vulnerability hunting is a constant cat-and-mouse game. As technology evolves, so do the vulnerabilities that ethical hackers need to identify. Here are some of the key challenges they face:

The Ever-Expanding Attack Surface: With the increasing use of cloud computing, mobile devices, and the Internet of Things (IoT), the attack surface – the potential points of entry for attackers – is constantly expanding. This makes it more challenging for ethical hackers to identify all potential vulnerabilities.

Zero-Day Attacks: The constant threat of zero-day attacks, where attackers exploit previously unknown vulnerabilities, keeps ethical hackers on their toes. They need to be constantly researching and developing new methods to identify these vulnerabilities before they can be used in real-world attacks.

Staying Ahead of Black Hats: Malicious hackers are constantly innovating and developing new attack techniques. Ethical hackers need to stay up-to-date on the latest hacking trends and methodologies to ensure they can identify vulnerabilities before they are exploited.

The Value of the Hunt: Why Vulnerability Hunting Matters

Vulnerability hunting plays a critical role in safeguarding our digital infrastructure. By proactively identifying and patching vulnerabilities, ethical hackers can significantly reduce the risk of successful cyberattacks. Here are some of the key benefits of vulnerability hunting:

Reduced Risk of Cyberattacks: By identifying and patching vulnerabilities, ethical hackers make it more difficult for malicious actors to gain unauthorized access to systems and data.

Improved Security Posture: The process of vulnerability hunting helps organizations identify and address weaknesses in their overall security posture, leading to a more robust defense.

Enhanced Compliance: Many regulations require organizations to conduct regular vulnerability assessments. Ethical hacking helps organizations meet these compliance requirements.

Cyber security training Mumbai can equip individuals with the skills to become ethical hackers, contributing to a safer digital landscape. These courses can provide valuable knowledge on vulnerability hunting methodologies, penetration testing techniques, and ethical hacking best practices.

[nancypullen]

The Ides of January

I'm supposed to start work tomorrow. A new start, a new job, hopefully the turning point in this lonely slog that has been our move to Maryland. I'm nervous, the way you are before the first day of school - not dreading it, knowing everything will be fine, but butterflies in my stomach over all of the unknowns. Will everyone be nice? Will I do/say something stupid on my first day? I know that I'm perfectly capable of doing this job, but I'm probably a bit rusty. Am I too old to do this? I'm no spring chicken. I spent all morning beating myself up mentally and then the universe took pity on me and sent... *s*n*o*w*. This was a peek out the back door around lunch time.

It's been steadily snowing ever since. It's 8:20 pm now and it's a marshmallow world out there (extra points if you can hear Dean Martin singing that). So, aside from the calming effect of watching those beautiful flakes drift down and make the world beautiful, my first day on the job might be a snow day! If you've known me for any amount of time, you understand how excited I get about snow days. It started when we moved from Alaska to Tennessee. I'd never heard of snow days. Our only rule in North Pole was when temps were colder than -65 (yes, 65 degrees below zero) school was optional. Our first winter in Tennessee saw a couple of snows, they didn't amount to much. After the first snow I woke the boys up for school, fed them breakfast, got them bundled up, and drove to the school. When we drove up the place looked deserted and I wondered if there'd been a bomb threat or something crazy. As I pulled up to the school I saw the director of the before/after school daycare program standing outside waving me off. I rolled my window down and asked what had happened and she looked at me like I was a lunatic and said, "It SNOWED, go home!" That was how I learned about snow days. To say we were delighted is an understatement. Unafraid of the weather, we went right to the grocery store for some snacks and then stopped at Blockbuster (yes, I'm that old) for games and a movie. My little guys weren't impressed with the dusting of snow, not enough to sled on or build a fort, but we felt like we had the run of the town that day. Once that happened we became weather hawks, just waiting for a hint of flurries or an icy patch on the road that might cancel school. We embraced all of the southern superstitions - flushing ice cubes, going to bed with our jammies on inside out, putting a spoon under a pillow, and of course, doing a snow dance. Even after my kids grew up and away, while I was still with the school district no one wished harder for snow days. Is it possible that I've just gotten my first Maryland snow day? I couldn't be more tickled. The assistant director emailed me this afternoon and said that closing for weather is a possibility and that he'd let me know in the morning. Guess who's flushing ice cubes and sleeping with her jammies inside out? I'm not alone in my joy over the snow. My sweet grandgirl heard that snow was on the way and put on her snow pants and went to the backyard to hunt snowflakes.

Her daddy snapped that through a window. I wonder if she caught any? She has a birthday in just 23 days. She'll be SIX. How did that happen? She's loving kindergarten, reading like a champ, and still on track to win an Oscar someday. Here's another snap I love, just browsing in the library.

Ball gown, warm pants underneath, high heels...I need to remember to tell her that this made me think of Belle in the Beast's library.

Okay, that's from the book shop in her village - same idea.

And this photo cracked me up. Her parents purchased a new vehicle, and you know how time consuming that is - even if you walk up with a bag of cash it seems to take forever. She waited patiently in full snow queen regalia. She loves that gold sequined "shawl" that I haven't told her was a holiday table runner.

Lest you think she only identifies as a princess, rest assured that she spends the bulk of her play time as special agent Carmen Sandiego.

She asked Santa for that outfit and he delivered. She loves it. She's solving crimes and catching bad guys while looking fabulous. Anyywayyyyy, I've drifted (see what I did there?) from snow days to costume changes. I suppose I should go upstairs and pick out a first day at work outfit just in case my ice cubes and jammies don't do the trick. I think I'll just close my eyes and reach into the closet. Nothing looks good anyway. I'll be tidy and I'll wear comfy shoes. I've got a lunch box and new water bottle, just like a kindergartner. I usually buy water by the case and guzzle it. After reading about all of the microplastics I'm drinking I decided to just get a Brita bottle with a filter and fill it with tap water. Of course I put a sticker on it so no one mistakes it for their bottle.

Annnnd I just realized that he looks like he's raising middle fingers. Oh no. He's not, I swear he's not. He's got his index and pinky fingers raised which can mean a couple of things. It's sign language for I love you, or it means he's rocking out at a concert. Good grief, why didn't I just put a flower sicker on it, or write my name in Sharpie? Maybe I could draw mittens on him. Now I'm nervous again. Pray for a snow day, y'all. I'm not ready. On that note, I'll bid you goodnight. Here's hoping that this new venture provides me with friendly interactions, interesting conversations, work that keeps me busy, plenty of blogging material, and let's not forget that tasty paycheck. It's all good, right? Right. Wherever you are I hope that you're toasty and warm. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

[enterprisewired]

Sophisticated iPhone Backdoor Campaign Revealed: Unprecedented Attack Exploits Undocumented Hardware Feature

In a recent revelation, researchers have unearthed startling details about a clandestine attack that infiltrated numerous iPhones for over four years, notably compromising the devices of employees from the Moscow-based cybersecurity firm, Kaspersky. The crux of these findings is centered on the attackers’ ability to achieve an unparalleled level of access by exploiting a vulnerability within an undocumented hardware feature—a knowledge confined to a select few, primarily Apple and chip suppliers like ARM Holdings.

The Intricacies of the Attack

Kaspersky researcher Boris Larin expressed astonishment at the sophistication exhibited by the exploit and the obscurity surrounding the hardware feature. Larin’s email underscored the advanced technical prowess of the assailants. He noted, “Our analysis hasn’t revealed how they became aware of this feature, but we’re exploring all possibilities, including accidental disclosures in past firmware or source code releases. They may also have stumbled upon it through hardware reverse engineering.”

Unanswered Questions and Ongoing Investigations

Despite a year-long intensive investigation, key questions persist. Larin highlighted the ongoing mystery surrounding the purpose of the hardware feature. Additionally, the researchers remain in the dark about whether this feature is an inherent component of the iPhone or if it’s enabled by a third-party hardware element, such as ARM’s CoreSight.

Mass Backdooring Campaign

The clandestine campaign, which purportedly breached iPhones of numerous individuals within diplomatic missions and embassies in Russia according to Russian officials, first came to light in June. Spanning over four years, the infections infiltrated devices via iMessage texts, deploying malware through a complex exploit chain without requiring any action from the receiver.

The Impact and Persisting Threat

The infected devices became hosts to comprehensive spyware, enabling the exfiltration of sensitive data like microphone recordings, photos, and geolocation to servers controlled by the attackers. Although reboots erased the infections, the assailants perpetuated their campaign by sending new malicious iMessage texts shortly after device restarts.

Critical Zero-Day Exploits and Subsequent Actions

Newly disclosed details shed light on the “Triangulation” malware and its installation campaign. The exploit capitalized on four critical zero-day vulnerabilities, programming flaws known to the attackers before Apple was aware of them. Apple has since addressed all four vulnerabilities, tracked as CVE-2023-32434, CVE-2023-32435, CVE-2023-38606, and CVE-2023-41990, through patches.

Summing Up

The unveiling of this sophisticated infiltration underscores the evolving landscape of cyber threats, emphasizing the critical need for continuous vigilance and swift responses from tech companies to safeguard user data and devices against such advanced attacks. As investigations continue, researchers strive to unravel the intricacies of the exploit and fortify defenses against potential future threats.

Curious to learn more? Explore our articles on Enterprise Wired

[monstermertens]

alright, here’s how things went down about as far as i remember;

edit: i've added dividers to represent the various "arcs" of my memories' "plot." there are three major arcs so far, as well as an "epilogue," and while the second and third blocks are still pretty big, i think they're a lot more manageable!

last updated: oct. 19th

vampworld was the result of a wish for simon to never become ice king. which, technically, yeah. he sure didn't do that. it was Way Worse.

aside from the opening where little marcy is stealing simon’s shoe, all events shown in the episode “the star” happened as normally depicted.

i was left in the tank, and once pep finished repairs, we went moving to look for bonnie. she was really badly hurt, drained of most of her color, but was able to patch herself up just enough to keep from. not getting back up. she spent a few days in the tank to recover.

i reached the milestones of a five year old within the first day in the tank. i guess i was pretty irritating, because bonnie eventually had peptank equip me with some basic equipment and let me outside to explore, so long as i kept within peptank’s proximity.

bonnie kept an eye on me from inside, and photographed me to document my growth progress throughout the whole thing. we had photos of me at the approximate ages of one (initial arrival), five (initial spurt), eight (when bonnie was lucid enough to notice), ten (photograph taken by the star), and every year since thirteen. my growth leveled out at around fifteen, and bonnie’s hypothesis was that something about babyworld inherently kept its inhabitants young.

i called it the neverland effect, and the name stuck, even though she thought it was too whimsical :p

anyway! while i was exploring, i did a lot of scavenging, and i had a watch so i could talk to peptank! when i reached about ten i started to go inside buildings, and that’s when the pillow corner really got started. i tried to grab “useful” stuff like tools or rare curios, but i ended up stuffing my backpack with every scrap of threadbare fabric and squashed pillow i could find.

and so, the pillow corner was born.

the scraps i collected supplied a lot of what i wore until i was physically ten. bonnie reworked some of peptank’s assistive arms to make him into a temporary clothing manufacturer cause i outgrew everything super fast

i know i was captured by the star around ten. she sent a photo of me to bonnie. i remember that much.

bonnie didn’t have the manpower to get me back and was forced into a toxic domestic situationship with the star. this part is where my rate of aging gradually started to slow down. we lived in the vampire city, and most of the star’s thralls left us alone

for timeline’s sake, i was ten when i was kidnapped and held hostage, and the memories start to trickle back at around fifteen, but really come back full force at 16-17. zero to fifteen was about a week, ten to fifteen was a couple days, and beyond age “fifteen” is when i slowed to start aging normally. bonnie and the star were together for years.

i was trans, but really clearly a dude from the get-go. bonnie had me on hrt pretty quick. a pretty painless process all told — i mostly just forgot about it, y’feel? (and i still do sometimes, despite the body being afab!)

i lost my arm while exploring outside the vampire city during that time. the star had less explicit control out there, but punishment was just as swift for the vampire who attacked me.

the full story is… graphic. and intense. but it’s over here if you wanna read it.

i know a lot about how the vampire nobility worked! back in the old days, it was basically just individualist imperialism, where vamps had to Start strong and Stay strong in order to stay on top and ensure their survival. it was well established by the time the vk took in the star. by the time i met her, she generally didn’t bother sucking up the souls of vamps she considered below her, and was used from time to time as a threat by the vk for others to stay in line. and she loved it.

but, when i was around sixteen or seventeen, the empress stole the vk’s crown and went rogue to do her own thing anyway. start her own vampire city. meanwhile, the crown somehow ended up back in the hands of our world’s simon petrikov, who had never escaped her thrall. the empress made him maintain the sun-blocking clouds put in place by the vk.

our simon petrikov was… i don’t know how to say it without sounding insensitive. but he was something truly, ghoulishly inhuman. most of the time, the crown was on his head, but there were times where he would keep it on his hip like he did when he was with marcy in the main timeline. blood on his hands and a crazed, almost hollow look in his eye. he was terrifying.

once in a while, he’d have a moment of lucidity where he wasn’t consumed by her spell or his own dissociative devotion. that was sy.

i met both simon and sy when i was around fourteen or fifteen. first simon, as something to be feared, then sy, as someone to be helped.

tldr; they were a system. when i first heard of them, they were just simon petrikov. but then i met sy and realized what was going on.

…the star came looking for me, since i’d technically run away from being her captive. she saw simon/sy, and she got. mad.

she hated him for leaving her when she was a kid. he tried to explain the situation with simon, but simon had had his time in the back seat and forced himself to the front despite sy’s protests.

i think something in her broke. but like, in such a way that something else started working again. she started moving towards becoming marcy.

marcy, bonnie and i helped sy and simon out, and they learned to work together. after we eventually took out the vampire king, sy and marcy reconnected, and marcy helped simon adjust. they moved in together after our finale, when the sun came out. bonnie and i stayed nearby with peptank.

marshall was. honestly just a really weird coincidence? like. freakish. but he was a more relatively recent attempt at adoption by sy, similar to marcy, and he was a lost werewolf prince — kinda like rapunzel in tangled? but as a monster prince, he was entitled to challenge vk for the title of king of all monsters. after that, the magic crown would be his by right. (luckily, he wanted no part of that thing.)

the werewolves were originally a pack as large as the vampire clan, but by my time they’d been reduced to a small rebel faction. marshall was the son of their last king, but he didn’t originally know any of them. they were similar to the railroad in fallout 4? the only ones left who really had the means to take down the established oligarchy, but far from the only ones against it.

…i had a goofball crush on marshall. he was about seventeen, i was around sixteen, but then he found out that i was originally from babyworld and had only spent a year or so in vampworld. but he was cool! kinda like a big brother or older cousin.

monsters were like the elementals of our world. some canon elementals existed too — candy, fire, ice, and slime — but my timeline’s “elements miniseries" equivalent surrounded vampires, werewolves, wizards, and demons, and might've been after the finale...?

marcy took a role similar to pb and fp. she was the vampire queen, in her giant bat form, with all her character development flushed down the toilet. and it made her sick to come back from.

our “finale” — my timeline’s equivalent to the last episode of adventure time — involved a werewolf/vampire standoff, with most other people left alive on the side of the werewolves. i was kinda like the sole survivor, if you remember the fallout 4 metaphor from earlier. y’know, running around helping folks, recruiting them to help our cause in exchange for protection from vagabonds and vampires.

marcy was… akin to zuko, if he didn’t become the firelord at the end. she fought, but like i said, she and simon lived on the outskirts, kinda like bucky’s initial steps to recovery in wakanda, but with a buddy. two for one, with sy and simon as her roomie!

preeeetty sure simon and sy were originally jewish, too. they and bucky are pretty similar, actually — go figure!

vampworld didn’t have a finn anymore before me. i usurped him and took our narrative role, since… he was already dead. or i guess he was just never born?

no humans untouched by vampirism or some other monsterous affliction or magical protection survived the initial fallout of the mushroom war. most other stuff was able to mutate, but... well, if you've watched arcane, "nature has made us intolerant to change. fortunately, we have the capacity to change our nature."

it would explain why simon/“ice king” would initially be the only one capable of surviving rather than sy, since he was using the crown to keep them alive.

we had a betty though! she went missing and was presumed dead at the end of the mushroom war, which, turned out to be the time travel thing with hambo, like in canon. again, to draw a parallel to fallout 4 — she was like nick valentine. except we weren’t all that close since i knew other humans already. i had fuzzy memories of fionna and her simon, martin, and huntress, (all human), and bonnie told me about them while i was growing up. and the fact that more humans did come out of vaults like to the ones vault-tec built. (guess that explains what little human population there was.)

so that’s where vampworld martin came from. poor guy.

we had a minerva campbell too, but she never knew martin mertens, and she had lost her son when he was young…? she didn’t like talking about it. but something in her told me that she was just like my original mom, back in babyworld. i didn’t like thinking about that. frankly i still don’t so i’m gonna lock that up and move on

my timeline's equivilant to the "islands miniseries" also took place after the "finale."

i dunno if i ever found out why huntress wasn’t a wizard. maybe she would’ve been, if she hadn’t gotten ganked by the star. …whoops.

my timeline had a nico the catboy. he was still a cat, but he lived out somewhere with a werewolf pack, i think. we met after the showdown against the vk, and he was really cool. we started dating kinda by accident — luckily i had more life experience and he was more comfortable with dating me than marshall was. which i’m glad for, ‘cause marshall was a great familio-platonic bestie, and nico was a great partner.

nico was taller than me, long and lanky. He liked to sprawl out on top of me no matter what position i was in. and when i played with his hair, and scalp massages where i scratched behind his ears. his hair was super long, too — he rarely ever cut it.

if i had to assign him a human race, i’d say he was diné, at least in part. there were definitely holdovers from human culture across ooo, and that one resonates with what i remember about my nico and how he would read as being “coded.”

i, on the other hand, mostly cut my hair short. after the first time i chopped it all off when i was ten or twelve, it was never longer than about my shoulderblades.

i got a lot more comfortable taking my arm off with nico around. i didn’t like not wearing it since it’d lost it traumatically and shiz, but nico just… i dunno. he made it easier.

i used to sleep curled up in his arms with my face buried the crook of his neck. he smelled good, like boyfriend hoodies and a healthy cat. lean and muscular, so he was basically the ideal proportions for my sweaty ass to hold at night.

he was also super easy to lift, which i did all the time. i’d just scoop him up and carry him off, either because i was feeling needy or to help him calm down. eventually, i was able to haul him under my left arm just as gently as i could carry him bridal style.

this post is an ever-expanding wip as i remember stuff, so have a guinea pig 🐹

pixel art credit: 🌌 | 🌆 | 🏙️ | 🌄

[sangrefae]

FFXIV WRITE 2023: DAY TWO [BARK]

link to the ao3 post for my entries | day one | day three | day four

bark [noun] - the sharp explosive cry of certain animals, especially a dog, fox, or seal. - wolzero implied, sometime in endwalker patches. 560 words.

Zero stares at the little creature wordlessly, something between curiosity and horror in her gaze. 

In contrast, Remember moves about the space of the room with no acknowledgement of its incessant cries, merely nudging it aside gently with their foot as it tries to paw at their legs. 

"Yappy little thing," they mutter, continuing to ignore it as they sit down next to Zero on the Hannish chaise lounge. Despite their tone and the harshness of their words, they don't reject the little beast when it leaps onto the lounge and deposits itself on their lap. Zero blinks. 

"What.. is it?" Remember turns to look at Zero, expression unchanged except for a single eyebrow raise. 

"What, this monster?" They reply, lifting a hand to point at the aforementioned thing; which, much to Zero's surprise, begins to gnaw on their finger. She quickly looks between them and the thing, wary of possible danger.

"Is it hurting you?" She inquires, slightly alarmed at the nonchalance Remember holds themself with as the attack continues. They scoff at her words. 

"He doesn't have much in the way of teeth to hurt me with," they reply, easily wrenching their finger back from the little beast's jaws and revealing their healthy, unblemished skin. "He's barely a pup, and still teething. The only threat is his bark and him seeming determined to make us all deaf." 

Zero processes their words slowly, staring at the little thing as she does so. Studying it more carefully now, she can see the similarities to the hellhounds she oftentimes avoided on the Thirteenth—although in this greatly diminished form, it doesn't strike as much fear into her heart. 

She tells Remember as much, who immediately sputters and begins to laugh. They hold the beast close, making sure it doesn't fall or otherwise injure itself; it begins to chew on their hand once again in its thanks.

"His ancestors may be ferocious, but this little thing is not," Remember answers after a good few moments, wiping away mirthful tears with their free hand. "Besides, I'm only watching him for a bit while Elinor does 'business' in the Twelveswood. He'll be out of here in a few days, and then we'll finally be left in peace again."

Zero acknowledges their words with a soft hum, continuing to focus on the little beast as it wrestles with Remember’s spoken hand on their lap. She watches as it growls at their fingers before snapping its tiny jaws, yelping and barking as it swipes its paws. The attacks are relentless, and yet never seem to be intending to injure; somewhere in the back of her mind, Zero recognizes that it's playing.

She startles both Remember and herself by reaching her hand out, then, tentatively moving to the creature. 

The first attempt to touch it is thwarted by it rolling its head back to try and bite at her, Remember sternly reprimanding it as they lift it up off their lap and hold it in the air. In this position, she successfully makes contact with its head; it's much softer than she expected, warm, and the sensation lingers even once she pulls her hand away and Remember lowers the creature back onto their lap. It's like nothing she'd ever felt in the Thirteenth, distant memories stirring faintly in the back of her mind at the familiar touch.