#cellular phones connecting people

[fruitcage]

[gothhabiba]

🍉🇵🇸 eSims for Gaza masterpost 🇵🇸🍉

Which eSims are currently being called for?

Connecting Humanity is calling for:

Nomad (“regional Middle East” plan): code NOMADCNG

Simly (“Palestine” plan)

Gaza Online is calling for:

Holafly (“Israel” and “Egypt” plans): code HOLACNG

Nomad (“regional Middle East” plan): code NOMADCNG (can now be used multiple times from the same email)

Airalo (“Middle East and North Africa” plan)

Sparks (“Israel” plan)

Numero (“Egypt” plan)

For Connecting Humanity: if you sent an eSim more than two weeks ago and it is still valid and not yet activated, reply to the email in which you originally sent the eSim. To determine whether the eSim is still valid, scan the QR code with a smartphone; tap the yellow button that reads “Cellular plan”; when a screen comes up reading “Activate eSIM,” click the button that says “Continue.” If a message comes up reading “eSIM Cannot Be Added: This code is no longer valid. Contact your carrier for more information,” the eSim is activated, expired, or had an error in installation, and should not be sent. It is very important not to re-send invalid eSims, since people may walk several kilometers to access wifi to connect their eSims only to find out that they cannot be activated.

If a screen appears reading “Activate eSIM: An eSIM is ready to be activated” with a button asking you to “Continue,” do not click “Continue” to activate the eSim on your phone; exit out of the screen and reply to the email containing that QR code.

Be sure you're looking at the original post, as this will be continually updated. Any new instructions about replying to emails for specific types of unactivated plans will also appear here.

Check the notes of blackpearlblasts's eSim post, as well as fairuzfan's 'esim' tag, for referral and discount codes.

How do I purchase an eSim?

If you cannot download an app or manage an eSim yourself, send funds to Crips for eSims for Gaza (Visa; Mastercard; Paypal; AmEx; Canadian e-transfer), or to me (venmo @gothhabiba; paypal.me/Najia; cash app $NajiaK, with note “esims” or similar; check the notes of this post for updates on what I've purchased.)

You can purchase an eSim yourself using a mobile phone app, or on a desktop computer (with the exception of Simly, which does not have a desktop site). See this screenreader-accessible guide to purchasing an eSim through each of the five services that the Connecting Humanity team is calling for (Simly, Nomad, Mogo, Holafly, and Airalo).

Send a screenshot of the plan's QR code to gazaesims@gmail.com. Be sure to include the app used, the word "esim," the type of plan (when an app has more than one, aka "regional Middle East" versus "Palestine"), and the amount of data or time on the plan, in the subject line or body of your email.

Message me if you have any questions or if you need help purchasing an eSim through one of these apps.

If you’re going to be purchasing many eSims at once, see Jane Shi’s list of tips.

Which app should I use?

Try to buy an eSim from one of the apps that the team is currently calling for (see above).

If the team is calling for multiple apps:

Nomad is best in terms of data price, app navigability, and ability to top up when they are near expiry; but eSims must be stayed on top of, as you cannot top them up once the data has completely run out. Go into the app settings and make sure your "data usage" notifcations are turned on.

Simly Middle East plans cannot be topped up; Simly Palestine ones can. Unlike with Nomad, data can be topped up once it has completely run out.

Holafly has the most expensive data, and top-ups don't seem to work.

Mogo has the worst user interface in my opinion. It is difficult or impossible to see plan activation and usage.

How much data should I purchase?

Mirna el-Helbawi has been told that large families may all rely on the same plan for data (by setting up a hotspot). Some recipients of eSim plans may also be using them to upload video.

For those reasons I would recommend getting the largest plan you can afford for plans which cannot be topped up: namely, Simly "Middle East" plans, and Holafly plans (they say you can top them up, but I haven't heard of anyone who has gotten it to work yet).

For all other plans, get a relatively small amount of data (1-3 GB, a 3-day plan, etc.), and top up the plan with more data once it is activated. Go into the app’s settings and make sure low-data notifications are on, because a 1-GB eSIM can expire very quickly.

Is there anything else I need to do?

Check back regularly to see if the plan has been activated. Once it's been activated, check once a day to see if data is still being used, and how close the eSim is to running out of data or to expiring; make sure your notifications are on.

If the eSim hasn't been activated after three weeks or so, reply to the original email that you sent to Gaza eSims containing the QR code for that plan.

If you purchased the eSim through an app which has a policy of starting the countdown to auto-expiry a certain amount of time after the purchase of the eSim, rather than only upon activation (Nomad does this), then also reply to your original e-mail once you're within a few days of this date. If you're within 12 hours of that date, contact customer service and ask for a credit (not a refund) and use it to purchase and send another eSim.

How can I tell if my plan has been activated? How do I top up a plan?

The Connecting Humanity team recommends keeping your eSims topped up once they have been activated.

See this guide on how to tell if your plan has been activated, how to top up plans, and (for Nomad) how to tell when the auto-expiry will start. Keep topping up the eSim for as long as the data usage keeps ticking up. This keeps a person or family connected for longer, without the Connecting Humanity team having to go through another process of installing a new eSim.

If the data usage hasn't changed in a week or so, allow the plan to expire and purchase another one.

What if I can't afford a larger plan, or don't have time or money to keep topping up an eSim?

I have set up a pool of funds out of which to buy and top up eSims, which you can contribute to by sending funds to my venmo (@gothhabiba), PayPal (paypal.me/Najia), or cash app ($NajiaK) (with note “esims” or similar). Check the notes of this post for updates on what I've purchased, which plans are active, and how much data they've used.

Crips for eSims for Gaza also has a donation pool to purchase eSims and top them up.

Gaza Online (run by alumni of Gaza Sky Geeks) accepts monetary donations to purchase eSims as needed.

What if my eSim has not been activated, even after I replied to my email?

Make sure that the QR code you sent was a clear screenshot, and not a photo of a screen; and that you didn’t install the eSim on your own phone by scanning the QR code or clicking “install automatically."

Possible reasons for an eSim not having been activated include: it was given to a journalist as a back-up in case the plan they had activated expired or ran out of data; there was an error during installation or activation and the eSim could no longer be used; the eSim was installed, but not activated, and then Israeli bombings destroyed the phone, or forced someone to leave it behind.

An eSim that was sent but couldn’t be used is still part of an important effort and learning curve. Errors in installation, for example, are happening less often than they were in the beginning of the project.

Why should I purchase an eSim? Is there any proof that they work?

Israel is imposing near-constant communications blackouts on Gaza. The majority of the news that you are seeing come from Gaza is coming from people who are connected via eSim.

eSims also connect people to news. People are able to videochat with their family for the first time in months, to learn that their family members are still alive, to see their newborn children for the first time, and more, thanks to eSims.

Some of this sharing of news saves lives, as people have been able to flee or avoid areas under bombardment, or learn that they are on evacuation lists.

Why are different plans called for at different times?

Different eSims work in different areas of the Gaza Strip (and Egypt, where many refugees currently are). The team tries to keep a stockpile of each type of sim on hand.

Is there anything else I can do to help?

There is an urgent need for more eSims. Print out these posters and place them on bulletin boards, in local businesses, on telephone poles, or wherever people are likely to see them. Print out these foldable brochures to inform people about the initiative and distribute them at protests, cafes and restaurants, &c. Also feel free to make your own brochures using the wording from this post.

The Connecting Humanity team is very busy connecting people to eSims and don't often have time to answer questions. Check a few of Mirna El Helbawi's most recent tweets and see if anyone has commented with any questions that you can answer with the information in this post.

[transfloridaresources]

[Photo ID: A person standing in daylight amidst dark smoke holding a large, Palestinian flag that obscures their face. Black, white, green, and red text reads: 'Global Strike. Jan 21-28, 2024.' Then more text reads: 'The strongest governments and weapons manufacturers are supporting this genocide against my people, and you are our only hope! STRIKE globally and call for a ceasefire! Strike, protest, stop the economic movements and make pressure on your countries to stand against this and stop it, if ISRAhell don’t find the financial and weapons support, or governments to hide their crimes they will be forced to stop the genocide! Go to the streets, protest and Globally strike for a week, (21-28) January! YALLA Brave and free people of the world, CEASEFIRE NOW! - Bisan Owda (wizard_bisan1). January 21, 2024.' /End ID]

[Photo ID: A photo Bisan took of herself in the smudged mirror of an elevator. She's holding her phone up to face level while looking at the screen. She's wearing a bright blue PRESS helmet and a bright blue PRESS vest. Text over the photo reads: 'Now, we are without any connection, neither the internet nor the cellular, we can’t reach each other’s inside Gaza, we don’t know if our families and friends are alive or not, wounded or not.. still in their places or not! We take hours of walking and searching to reach someone, while moving became very risky! We can’t reach to you as well! The footage, information and news from Gaza are not reaching you as before because the Israeli army intentionally destroyers the signal towers and the servers, even using the E-SIM requires being in a high place which is very risky!. I borrowed this vest to upload this post! - Bisan Owda (wizard_bisan1). January 21, 2024.' /End ID]

TFR is participating in the Global Strike called upon by @wizard_bisan1 for this week. No money will be spent & Palestinian voices will continue to be boosted, alongside other resources for how to best use this week in support of pressuring for a ceasefire.

Bisan's full message from January 21, 2024:

Hi everyone, it’s Bisan from Gaza, I am still alive Alhamdullah.. it’s been 107 days of genocide, 15 weeks, 2568 hours of killing us, taking over our homes and lands in Gaza Strip, and forcing us to choose between leaving or death.. and sometimes we can’t even choose.. the Israeli air strikes simply kill us without any warnings. Now, we are without any connection, neither the internet nor the cellular, we can’t reach each other’s inside Gaza, we don’t know if our families and friends are alive or not, wounded or not.. still in their places or not! We take hours of walking and searching to reach someone, while moving became very risky! We can’t reach to you as well! The footage, information and news from Gaza are not reaching you as before because the Israeli army intentionally destroyers the signal towers and the servers, even using the E-SIM requires being in a high place which is very risky!. I borrowed this vest to upload this post! I am not scared of death, but of being displaced, scared of losing my family or friends, scared of being wounded and can’t have my treatment because the health system is collapsed in Gaza, and to die in pain! I am not scared of the destruction.. I lost my work place.. my home and my family work place and source of income, I am terrified of being killed by an occupier, and to be forgotten, one oppressed Bisan of a whole occupied people. The strongest governments and weapons manufacturers are supporting this genocide against my people, and you are our only hope! STRIKE globally and call for a ceasefire! Strike, protest, stop the economic movements and make pressure on your countries to stand against this and stop it, if ISRAhell don’t find the financial and weapons support, or governments to hide their crimes they will be forced to stop the genocide! Go to the streets, protest and Globally strike for a week, (21-28) January! YALLA Brave and free people of the world, CEASEFIRE NOW!

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): foul language, death of a spouse, brief descriptions of death & injury, symptoms of grief, brief suggestive themes

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: Part Three of Ink & Needle

A tragedy pulls you back to England. A certain masked man follows your arrival.

Chapter Two // Chapter Four

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Three Years Later

Outside the café window, the sky is a dark gray, threatening rain. Across the street is the Cambridge train station. Commuters move to and away from the station, many of them jumping into cabs, waiting at the nearby bus terminal, or entering the pedestrian areas. Several even enter the café you’re currently waiting in.

Your fingers tap on the plastic lid of your coffee cup in a steady, nervous thrum. Your sandwich is off to the side, hardly touched. You’ve only managed a few bites. It’s not that the sandwich is bad but that you’re so exhausted that even food turns your stomach.

At the moment, sleep is an elusive creature, and you certainly cannot curl up in your chair and fall asleep in the café.

You haven’t slept in hours. Anxiousness simmers in every part of your body. On the flight into O’Hare International, you almost puked up your breakfast. Then, on the connecting flight into London, your stomach was a roiling mess. You spent the whole flight staring at the ceiling of the plane praying that you didn’t need to quickly run to the bathroom. The train from London to Cambridge was no better. Your stomach still isn’t cooperating.

You sigh and try again anyway. Tearing into the sandwich, you chew slowly, thinking that maybe if you only focus on the flavors, you’ll sense something.

The bite is dead in your mouth. Bland.

Perhaps you’re getting sick.

You glance out the café window, your gaze scanning the sidewalk and street. Evie is late, which is so unlike her, but entirely understandable. She just buried Archie less than a week ago, and the whole reason you’re back in London is because of the fucking shitty situation Evie is in now that Archie is dead.

It isn’t fair. Evie doesn’t deserve any of this. The two of them should be celebrating their three-year wedding anniversary next month.

You don’t have the ability to track Evie on your phone—the cellular fees alone would be astronomical. All you have is Evie’s “on my way” text and a hope that she’ll turn up soon. You miss her. You want to hold her in your arms and remind her that there are still people in her life that love her.

Evie still hasn’t made an appearance after another ten minutes, and you turn back to the offending sandwich, taking another bite as if this one might be the one that does it.

Nothing. You almost spit it back onto the plate.

You run your hand over your face. Now that you’re sitting, and at your destination, your body is screaming out for rest. Every muscle and limb aches, and you know your eyes are likely bloodshot from the lack of sleep.

“There you are.”

The soft, melodic voice draws your gaze away from the café window. There’s Evie, beautiful even though she looks a mess. There are deep bags under her eyes and her chestnut-colored hair is bunched up on the back of her head in a bun. Worse, Evie’s eyes are watery, like at any moment she’s about to burst into tears.

Evie stands right in front of you, and as your gaze roams down her body, taking note of how disheveled she looks, you land on the one thing that makes this situation so much worse.

With one hand, Evie cradles her pregnant belly. The other rests against the bulging curve. Eight months. Her due date is coming up quick. On her and Archie’s three-year anniversary of all things.

You stand quickly and throw your arms around your best friend, squeezing her tightly but minding the belly, oozing every ounce of love you have for her into the embrace.

“I’m sorry, Evie. I’m so sorry.” Your voice nearly breaks but you manage to reel it in before it shatters.

No number of apologies could ever replace what happened. Wrong place, wrong time is what Evie was told. The bullet wasn’t even for Archie. The person aiming the gun shot wide of their mark, striking Archie in the back of the head.

He died while on a business trip for his family’s consulting firm in the United States. Archie was on his way to meet up with a few friends when his skull was blown off. Evie was told that he died quickly. That he probably didn’t feel a thing.

You draw back a bit and smile softly. “Please sit.” You pull away but keep one hand on Evie’s back, gesturing at the chair across the table from yours.

Evie winces into the seat. “How was your flight?” she asks, rubbing the top of her belly. “And the train?”

“Fine. All fine,” you reply quickly. A lie. You’re bone-tired. Aching in all sorts of places. “How are you? Are you doing okay?” You desperately need to know.

Evie has no family. None. She’s an only child. Her mother died when she was young, and her father died of Coal Worker’s Pneumoconiosis after his retirement. The only family she has in the world is Archie’s, and most of them despise her working-class roots. You distinctly remember Archie’s mother calling Evie a “leech” to her face minutes before the ceremony took place.

That hag of a woman sat in the front row of the church like she hadn’t just spit venom.

Reaching out, you rest your arm across the table, presenting your open palm. Evie stares down at it for a brief moment before sliding her hand into yours, squeezing. Her eyes are wet, close to spilling over, and you decide that this topic of conversation is not appropriate for such a public spot.

“We can talk about it later. If you want,” you murmur, not wanting to draw unneeded attention to her.

Eve sniffles and nods, releasing your hand to dig around in her purse for a tissue.

You slowly draw your hand back into your lap. “I can tell you about work,” you suggest. Evie daps at her eyes and then blows her nose. “Want a bite of my sandwich?”

The offer falls flat. Evie shakes her head. “You should eat it.”

And you need to eat something Evelyn Green.

“You need it more than me,” you insist. “Honestly, I’m not feeling it. Don’t want to let it go to waste.” You push the plate across the table to her.

You don’t need to ask to know Evie isn’t eating. Her cheeks are sunken and her skin is on the paler side like she’s fallen ill. Evie holds the sandwich in both hands and takes a pensive bite. She chews slowly, and then digs in as if starved.

Without Archie here, has no one checked on her? Has Archie’s family completely cut her off? It makes your blood boil.

In the States, you can’t really do anything, but now that you’re here—now that you’re actually witnessing the state she’s in—you’re fucking furious.

The best thing for you to do is to not linger on it or bring it to Evie’s attention. This is something you can tackle later when you’ve had time to calm down.

You adjust in your chair and clasp your coffee cup with both hands. “The technical writing work pays but isn’t that exciting, unless you’d like to hear about the furniture instructional manuals I’ve been editing.”

Evie grins around a bite of food and that small, amused smile is enough to ease some of that internal anxiousness.

“I do have come fiction clients. Pay isn’t nearly as good, but very enjoyable.”

Evie chews and swallows. “I’m glad you’re staying busy.” Her smile softens a bit. “And that you’re here.”

“I’ve missed you, Evelyn Green.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

You take a small sip of your coffee. It’s gone cold.

“I’ll grab another for the road.” You lift the coffee cup. “Once you’re finished, we’ll leave.”

You take Evie’s car to her house near the outskirts of Cambridge proper. Even though Archie helped his father run the family business, he had his own ambitions when it came to his career. He took a part-time teaching job at the university. He and Evie moved out to Cambridge quickly, mostly to escape his family.

While Archie loved them, he did not love how they treated Evie. He spent a great deal of time away from them, but coming from privilege has its own issues. Archie was always called to attend this or that event, and Evie always came along.

From the street, all you see are tall hedges. When Evie pulls into the drive and stops at the gates, you glimpse a small sliver of brick. Evie presses a button on a small remote and the gate opens inward. The hedges are only a natural fence, and once you’re past them, you finally see the house Evie has called home for the past two years.

It’s all brick with wide windows and a flowerbed that follows the outline of the house. The tall hedges mark the property boundaries, and you cannot see into any of the neighbors’ yards. The property itself is deep, stretching vertically back from the road.

Evie pulls up to the garage but doesn’t pull inside. Instead, she parks the car and starts to get out. You follow suit, moving to the trunk to withdraw your suitcase.

“This is gorgeous, Evie.”

“Thank you,” she replies softly. “Archie picked it out.”

The mention of Evie’s dead husband immediately puts you on edge. You glance at your friend and frown. She’s staring off into the distance.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you go over to her and slide your arm around hers. “Show me around.”

Evie seems to melt a bit, whatever it is that held her slipping away for a moment. She tilts her head toward you and smiles. Over the next few minutes, Evie shows you the private backyard complete with garden and pool. From there, the two of you enter through the mudroom door, kicking off your shoes and heading into the living room.

The space is rustic with deep browns, greens, and golds. There is no minimalism or modernness to this home other than the appliances. You do a small turn, admiring the organized yet maximalist-leaning décor.

“Evie, I—” Your voice cuts when your gaze falls on her.

She is focused on the fireplace mantel. As your attention shifts from her to the mantel, you realize what Evie is staring at. The entire mantel is lined with framed phots of their wedding. There are pictures of just Evie and Archie, some of his family, and ones of the bridal party.

Sighing softly, you move toward her, taking her upper arm to snag her attention.

Reluctantly, Evie’s gaze pulls away from the photographs.

“Can you show me to my room? We can go from there.” You make sure to not sound condescending or worried for her. Evie needs a bit of normalcy.

“Of course,” she nods, showing you to the spare bedroom on the second floor.

You promptly set your stuff down and unpack after Evie slinks away. You’re worried about her and the baby. It’s why you came out here after all. Evie has no one, and with your work, you can easily pack up and travel, taking it with you.

When you return to the first floor, you head into the kitchen. Evie stands in front of the open fridge staring at nothing.

“Evie,” you call out. She doesn’t reply. “Evie.”

She glances over at you and promptly shuts the fridge. “Sorry,” she mutters. “I spaced out.”

“You wanna order takeout?” You slide your phone out of your pocket and wave it in the air. Evie nods and the two of you go to the couch, settling in.

“What are you in the mood for?” You open a food delivery app and begin browsing.

“Whatever you want,” replies Evie.

You tap away at your screen. “What if I’m craving sushi? That would be a problem.”

“True,” she smirks, rubbing the curve of her belly

“What about a super greasy pizza with lots of cheese?”

“We’re in England,” laughs Evie. “Not America.”

“So? There has to be a good pizza place around here.”

Evie leans in a bit and watches your phone over your shoulder. The two of you bicker back and forth but finally decide on the pizza idea.

“How’s baby?” you ask, locking your phone and setting it to the side.

Evie lightly taps her belly. “Good. Healthy.” She winces. “Pushing on my bladder,” she mutters.

“As they do.”

“Archie and I made a list of names. Narrowed it down a bit but never got to finish before…well…now I’m not sure what I like.”

“Do you know what you’re having?”

Evie nods. “You know we wanted to keep it a surprise, but with Archie gone and everything that’s happened, I decided I want to know now. To prepare.”

“Of course. That’s understandable.”

There is so much that still needs to be done, and your arrival only scratches the surface.

Evie gently elbows you in the arm. “Do you want to know?”

You gently elbow her back. “Only if you want to tell me.”

Evie pauses briefly before speaking. “It’s a girl.”

“I’m so proud of you,” you murmur. “You’re going to be an amazing mom, Evelyn Green.”

Evie starts laughing, which quickly turns into crying. You sit up, ready to comfort her, but she’s already starting to laugh again.

“Fuck. I think I peed,” she hiccups as she tries to get off the couch. It’s more of a roll and you hop up to assist her. She totters off to change.

The pizza arrives during that time, and the two of you snuggle into the couch, creating a bed of pillows and blankets as you eat pizza and watch a reality show on Netflix. Evie starts to soften, becomes happier, and you love to see it. The pizza is loaded with extra cheese, lots of garlic, roasted tomato, spinach, and a white sauce.

“You know,” you say around a bite of crust. “The fact that ranch is not a staple with pizza here is an atrocity.”

Evie arches an eyebrow and wipes away a wayward strand of cheese from her chin. “You want to eat ranch with this?”

“Not this specifically,” you mutter.

Evie snorts and takes a large bite of her slice. “What I really miss most about the States is the food.”

“Like what?” you press.

“Tacos. And not that hardshell bullshit you get at the grocery store. I want the cilantro, sliced radish, and lime with a salsa so hot it melts your face.”

“Don’t forget the onion.”

“And extra onion,” adds Evie.

You wipe off some grease from the corner of your mouth.

Evie sighs, her shoulders heaving before she turns to look at you. “Thank you. By the way. You didn’t have to come.”

You roll your eyes and give her your best smile. “I’d do anything for you. Plus, I work remote. I can literally go anywhere in the world at any time and still be able to do my job. Honestly, it’s fine. Plus, I’m not paying rent or anything. It’s amazing.”

Evie shakes her head in amusement. Her plate is carefully balanced on her belly. “Are you seeing anyone?”

The abrupt change startles you.

“Nope,” you reply quickly, nibbling on the reminder of your crust.

“Remember that man with the balaclava at Riot Room?” Evie gestures toward her face as if she’s wearing one. “The one Jade, Sam, and I all convinced you to have sex with?”

You drop the pizza crust onto your plate. “Yes.” Why is Evie asking about him?

“Do you ever think about what happened to him? Like, what he might be doing now?”

All the time.

You lick your lips and rub your fingers together over the plate. Crumbs fall from your hands. “Sometimes.”

It’s a total lie. You think about your wraith all the time, especially in the dark when your hand is between your legs. The memory of him is like a deep, poorly healed scar. It is a slash across your heart.

Ghost.

His touch will never fade. He marked you, made you his, and you won’t forget a single moment you spent with him.

“I can’t believe you missed Sam making a move on his friends. What was his name?”

“Gaz?” you offer, vaguely recalling the man that spoke to you when Ghost wouldn’t let go of your arm.

“Was it? I thought Sam said his name was ‘Kyle.’”

You shrug. “The man I ran away with called himself ‘Ghost.’”

Evie nods, yawning. “That’s true.” She shifts slightly in your direction. The plate on her belly stays put. “We have an early morning.”

“Do we?” you ask nonchalantly, thankful for the pivot in conversation.

“Did you ever meet Archie’s grandmother? Amelia?”

There are only a handful of times you’ve met anyone from Archie’s family and most of them were during those last few weeks leading up to the wedding.

“I don’t believe so,” you reply slowly.

Evie rubs at the side of her belly in agitation. “You can’t stay with me forever. And while I appreciate you, I’ll need support when you’re gone.”

Sighing, Evie removes the plate from belly and tries to sit up. Knowing her efforts will be in vain, you take the plate from her and set it on the coffee table.

Evie murmurs a quiet ‘thank you’ and falls back against the couch. “We’re going to stay with her. She lives in the Clapton area of London.”

You’re surprised. Evie loves this home. When her and Archie first moved in, it’s all she could talk about. “You don’t want us to stay here?”

Evie’s mouth turns downward and tears start to form in the corner of her eyes again. You understand the moment the words leave your mouth. This place holds too many memories.

“It’s not like anyone else will have me,” she sniffles even as she tries to laugh it off like it doesn’t bother her.

“They’re a bunch of idiots. And don’t deserve your tears. Fuck. Them.” You stuff the rest of your half-eaten crust into your mouth.

It might not be the nicest thing to say, but the majority of Archie’s family are assholes who deserve to be called by an insult rather than their names,

Evie turns back toward the television. You snuggle in next to her and Evie’s head falls against your shoulder. A single tear rolls down her cheek and you absently wipe it away.

The next day is all business.

It keeps Evie busy enough that she can’t stop to cry, but you still make her take frequent breaks. It’s clear that Evie hasn’t been taking care of herself since Archie’s funeral. She may be eight-months pregnant, but she’s abnormally sluggish and forgetful. Evie keeps losing her train of thought, or she starts to mumble to herself instead of speaking directly to you when you ask her a question.

It’s upsetting, but it mostly makes you angry. It means that Archie’s family has completely abandoned her now that he’s dead. They have no reason to interact with her.

On top of that, there is too much to do, and Evie needs all the support she can get. You don’t want to make England your permanent place of residence, but Evie is like a sister to you. She is family. You won’t toss her to the side.

The biggest hurdle is making sure Evie has adequate help. You’re not the only person Evie should need to rely on. After Evie went to bed last night, you promptly messaged Jade and Sam, detailing the situation. Both of them want to come out, but their jobs are not nearly as flexible as yours.

With the essentials packed, and the car loaded, you and Evie clean out the kitchen, tossing out all the open perishables while boxing up everything that is still good and unopened. The two of you will stop at a local food bank and drop it off.

At midday, the two of you are in the car, driving to London. By American standards, the drive isn’t that far, but the traffic is horrendous. Evie drives, and you take notes of everything that needs to be done while being the perfect passenger princess.

Everything in the house will need to be organized and gone through. Evie plans on staying with Archie’s grandmother which means she needs to downsize. You’ll need to contact an estate agent to appraise and ready the house for the market. All the furniture will either need to be sold, donated, or brought to Ameila’s home. With Archie’s death also comes an enormous amount of wealth all tied up in various assets. None of it makes any sense, and Archie’s personal solicitor will need to be contacted.

None of that includes setting up a nursery or supporting Evie through the rest of her pregnancy. Plus, there is your job to think about. Yes, you do mostly freelance work, but you’re usually sent work by the company that contracts you. There are deadlines that you need to hit.

The GPS beeps and Evie turns onto a massive thoroughfare, crossing a large bridge before coming to a massive roundabout. From there, Evie follows the road a few minutes. She turns onto a side street lined with various business and homes. You recognize nothing. This city is completely foreign to you.

“We’re here,” says Evie, nodding to a two-story brick house. She pulls into a tiny driveway and turns off the car.

Amelia’s home is what you picture when you think of houses in England. Maybe you’ve watched one too many movies, or maybe the stereotype holds true, but it fits the bill. On the outside, it’s clean and taken care of. The short driveway and path to the store is perfectly lain without a single weed. Even the stunted hedges under the front windows are perfectly trimmed.

You’re out of your seat and to the driver side of the car before Evie has the chance to open her door. When she tries to head to the back of the car to empty the trunk, you politely chase her away. You’ll make multiple trips if you need to, but you’re not allowing Evie to lift a single thing.

The front door opens and a short, stout older woman steps out onto the stoop. Her graying hair is clipped to her shoulders. She wears tan pants, the knees of which are patched over with sunflowers on white fabric. The rainboots on her feet are splattered with mud, and the yellow coat and white linen shirt she wears are speckled with a bit of dirt.

Amelia grins as she removes the gloves she’s wearing. “Evelyn!” she calls out.

“Amelia,” greets Evie, her arms outstretched.

Evie waddles over to Amelia and the two of them embrace. Amelia pulls back at the same moment you approach the two women.

Amelia smiles. “Can’t forget you.”

“You—” The words leave your mouth in a huff when Ameila wraps her around your waist and squeezes like she’s trying to snap your spine.

“Evie’s friend,” breathes Amelia, stilling holding tight.

“That’s me, ma’am,” you manage, the sound of your voice mostly strangled breathing.

Amelia abruptly stops hugging you and the sudden release of tension is a perfect inhalation. “Blimey! Hear that, Evie? She called me ‘ma’am.’” Amelia tuts. “None of that ‘ma’am’ nonsense around here. Call me Amelia.”

She glances to the left of you and then the right. You only managed to snag a few bags from the car before walking over to them.

“Well,” begins Amelia. “Hand me a bag and let’s get inside. I have the kettle on. Along with some biscuits and jam.”

“Good,” you sigh. “I’m starving. Ran out of car snacks halfway to London.”

Evie glances over her shoulder and grins at you. “That’s because you ate them all.”

You make a face and Evie laughs, entering through the front door.

The first thing you notice about the place is how many goddamn doors there are. Just inside the front door is another door that enters the living room, then another that leads to the stairs. None of it is open. It’s bizarre. Tight and cramped.

You have to wiggle your way sideways into the living room.

“Drop the bag there dear.” Amelia points to a spot near her sofa. “We can grab them later. Take a seat at the table. Enjoy a cuppa before I start dinner.”

The kettle whistles loudly as you enter the kitchen. Evie stretches a bit before she slides into a chair. You select the chair next to her. Amelia grabs three mugs from a cabinet and sets them on the counter. From a different cabinet, Amelia grabs a tea tin and drops a bag into each mug. She removes the kettle from the stove and starts filling the mugs with hot water.

Steam rises into the air. “Now I know all about Evie, but I know nothing about you other than what she’s told me.”

“Whatever she’s told you. It’s isn’t true.”

“It’s all good stuff.”

“Like I said. None of it is true.”

Evie tries and fails to stifle a snort.

Amelia’s mouth forms an amused smile. “She told me you were a writer.”

“Not exactly,” you say slowly. “I’m an editor. I usually do technical work, but I occasionally branch off into the publishing world of fiction. Especially if I’m looking for a little extra cash flow.”

Amelia ambles over to the table, expertly carrying all three mugs. She sets one down in front of Evie first and then you before herself.

Amelia settles into the unoccupied chair.

“She said your job allowed you to move around. That’s good. Glad you’re here. Evie needs more than me looking after her.”

You swallow, the mug hot against your fingers. “I’m glad I came.”

When you wake in the morning, it’s early. The sun is just starting to ascend.

Evie is still asleep, her breathing even and calm. You slowly unfurl yourself, walking on quiet feet to the bathroom with a change of clothes in tow. You brush your teeth and wash your face. It’s a bit cold but not overly so. You open the small window in the bathroom to check.

You head downstairs, a knee-length cardigan wrapped around your body. The kitchen light is on. There is a hot kettle, two mugs, and tea bags set out. The gesture is lovely but you cannot live on tea. You’ll need coffee eventually or you’ll go insane.

The back door is propped open and you walk up to it, poking your head out into the early morning chill. Amelia is out in the backyard tending to her garden. You step out onto the top stair and call out to her.

Amelia glances up and waves you over.

As you approach, she starts talking, her warm breath creating steam before her face. “Checking on the tomatoes. Bit chilly this morning. Plants don’t like it much.”

You wrap your cardigan a little tighter around yourself. “Can I do anything to help you?”

“That’s sweet of you. But no. At least not out here.” Amelia gestures to the raised garden beds with an outstretched hand. “Could you go to the bakery just across the way? Grab some pastries for today and tomorrow?”

You nod. “Of course. Where is it?”

Amelia removes her gloves and tosses them down onto the edge of the wood garden bed. “When you go out the front door makes a left until you come to the first cross-street. Turn left again and then an immediate left at the small corner store. Just walk that and you’ll see it.” Amelia shrugs. “Usually a line by this time.”

“Is there coffee?”

“They do indeed,” replies Amelia with a knowing grin.

“I’ll just grab my coat.”

“Take your time.”

You head back upstairs to the bedroom to grab your coat. Evie is still asleep. Silently, you snag your coat off the back of a chair and slip it on, leaving through the front door.

There is surprisingly little traffic as you follow Ameila’s detailed instructions. You take a left and follow the row of houses all tightly packed together. When you make it to the cross-street, you turn left again. The corner store comes up quickly. Turning left again, you keep your gaze on the storefronts that line the street. After the corner store is a pub, another pub, a salon, a few restaurants, another pub.

Then, a tattoo parlor.

141 Ink the sign reads. It’s dark inside but it’s fairly early. The sun is much higher now but it’s still not late enough for a tattoo shop to be open.

You shrug and walk on, noticing the line Amelia mentioned almost immediately. It’s not nearly as long as you expected it to be, and you’re through faster than you anticipate.

When you step inside, the smell of roasted coffee beans, baked bread, and cinnamon greet your nostrils. There are so many options and for a moment, you’re a little overwhelmed. But with more people lining up behind you, you make a few selections and collect a coffee for yourself.

With bag and coffee in hand, you start to walk back the way you came. The pastries smell delicious and it takes you a second to realize that the door to the tattoo parlor stands open.

You frown and stop right outside the door. Checking your watch, your eyebrows rise at the time. It’s still incredibly early. Who opens a tattoo parlor at this hour?

Curiosity gets the better of you. You walk up to the entrance and glance inside.

The first thing you notice is a dog. It’s an all-black German Shepard that lays in the early morning sun from the window. His eyes are open and he’s looking at you with interest but not enough to lift his head.

There is the sound of metal clanking against metal. It draws your gaze upward and away from the dog. Your eyes catch a bit of movement. You narrow your focus as your sight adjusts to the shadowy interior.

A man is there with his back to you. He shifts. Turns. And then your heart drops into your stomach.

It’s him. And that is impossible. Of everyone it could be, how could it possibly be him.

Your wraith.

You are frozen. Utterly shocked. He turns a bit more and notices you standing there in the open doorway.

There is zero doubt. None. This is him.

This is Ghost.

Fuck you think. Shit shit shit shit.

You step back and Ghost takes a step forward, his hand falling to his sides, his back straightening like he’s about to move toward you.

Everything about him is the same. All broad shoulders, towering height, and imposing darkness. You know it’s him because of the balaclava. That’s the same, too.

You shake your head and take another step backward.

Ghost takes two.

You turn on your heel, and bolt.

Chapter Two // Chapter Four

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[matan4il]

sorry if this isn't a good place to ask but you're one of the few blogs on here that has actually done any research at all on the subject and. yknow how the pro-palestine donation posts repeatedly give you the option to buy esims specifically. why is that? I've never seen any other movement where the donation posts had you buy esims for them. what fucking use *are* they? you can't eat them, drink them- you might be able to order food with them if it wasn't for the fucking war.

maybe this is cynicism on my part but i genuinely suspect they're being used by hamas to spread propaganda. why else would they need that many esims? but you definitely know more about this than i do.

Hi lovely, sorry it took me a moment to reply!

I can tell you that even before I got this ask, the eSims campaign struck me as odd and suspicious, based on a few basic things I know, but if I was going to reply to you on this, I needed to do some research about it.

To make this ask reply clear, by "connectivity" I mean the ability to either make phone calls, log onto the internet, or both.

Okay, so why did this campaign make me wonder in the first place? Because while there have been some connectivity problems for Gazans, from what I know, there was only one time when connectivity was down to a degree that would justify a campaign, even then it wasn't completely gone for good, because Israel has worked to restore connectivity to Gazans. But I also wondered whether, if the connectivity is down, an eSim would be the solution? And if it would be, why would there be a need for that many eSims? We're over 5.5 months into this war, that's almost half a year of constantly hearing how Gaza is about to starve, so are eSims really Gazans' biggest problem if they have no food and basic needs? But even if it was enough of a problem to merit a campaign, wouldn't there have been more than enough donations by now to have solved it to a considerable degree? Since connectivity was never fully gone for long, surely there's a limit to how many more eSims they actually need, at least at certain points in time? From my experience with donating to Israelis displaced or affected by Palestinian terrorists (in this war, as well as during previous crises), there does come a time when you hear, "Okay, thank you to everyone donating X, we have enough of that, what we need now is more of Y, we would really appreciate you donating that!" But there has been no moment when we saw the eSims campaign saying, "We've had enough donations of this type, thank you, now please look more into donating X or Y, which Gazans currently need more."

And that led me to another question - if there is a certain scam involved here, what kind? Is it a financial one? Is this just meant to get money from the rest of the world feeling bad for Palestinians, and beyond the financial theft, it's harmless? Or is the money going to Hamas and people affiliated with it, which means it might be financing terrorism and the continuation of killing? Or maybe the scam is in allowing Hamas terrorists connectivity that can't be tracked as easily by Israeli security forces, which are trying to avert terrorist attacks against Israeli civilians?

I am not the biggest expert, so I don't have all the answers, but here's what I have managed to figure out.

So, first of all, connectivity requires physical infrastructure. Israel has been providing that for Gaza for years, in the form of underground cables and cellular antennas positioned on both sides of Israel's border with Gaza (source in Hebrew). The Oct 7 massacre initiated by Hamas and the following war have at times physically damaged this infrastructure, which is why Gaza has had less connectivity than usual (though it's not gone). The one time which was the worst, in terms of connectivity, the internet (but not all connectivity) was down from Friday, until Israel managed to fix things on Sunday (link above is the source for all this, it's an article from Oct 31, 2023. That said, Oct is when the most connectivity issues were reported). That means that Gaza was never fully offline except for that short period of Friday to Sunday. It also means the connectivity issues are not some plot to keep Gazans from telling the world about their plight (the way I've seen the eSims campaign presented on social media), or the connectivity would be totally down, and Israel would not do anything to restore it at any point.

And I'm pointing this out to explain one of two reasons why eSims being bought for Gazans might be useless as a solution to Gaza's connectivity if Israel was actually purposely harming it. (this following part is based on me reading way too many articles about eSim technology, those can be easily found everywhere online)

If the physical infrastructure providing the signal (which mobile networks use to provide connectivity) is physically damaged, eSim technology can't bypass that. Because eSim technology doesn't provide the signal, it just allows the owner of an eSim to easily switch between mobile networks without having to switch physical SIMs provided by these networks. That means, that for the eSim to work, there has to be some connectivity anyway. There also has to be connectivity in the first place in order to activate the eSim program paid for by someone outside Gaza (not to mention, they'd need connectivity to get the code, and learn that they're getting an eSim, and how to activate it). If Israel really was intentionally cutting off Gaza's connectivity by shutting down the physical infrastructure, as it's being presented online, eSims would be completely useless. You wouldn't be able to activate them, and you wouldn't have a signal that allowed you to use them. A campaign that misrepresents the basic facts (as if Israel is intentionally denying Gazans connectivity, or as if eSims can provide connectivity all on their own) is suspect to me.

The other reason why eSims wouldn't be a solution for many (if not most) Gazans, even if you do have connectivity, is that it also requires you to have an eSim compatible smartphone. The 'e' in eSim stands for 'embedded.' That means the technology that allows the use of eSims has to be embedded into the phone you're using, and then you can buy and activate an eSim. If you buy an eSim and wanna use it with a smartphone that doesn't have the required technology embedded, that's a bit like buying a wireless charger to use with an older phone that can only be charged through a cable (it just doesn't have the technology embedded that allows it to connect to and be charged by a wireless charger). The technology allowing the use of eSims has only been embedded in more recent phone models, which Gazans are less likely to have.

Regarding that last point, I wanna explain that, as mentioned in the above Hebrew link, before the war Gaza's mobile networks were all operating on 3G technology, even though most phones now operate on 4G or even 5G technology, which means it wouldn't be worth it for the average Gazan to invest in buying a newer phone, which is presumably more expensive than an older model. Especially if it's one that can't even connect to the older 3G network.

That's not to say there wouldn't be any Gazans with newer phones. The myth spread before the war for years called Gaza a 'concentration camp' or 'open air prison' as if people there have nothing (which makes vids comparing Gaza before and after the war particularly ironic. Either there was nothing before the war, and then the war didn't change much, or Gaza was a beautiful, thriving place before the war, and then calling it a 'concentration camp' was a Holocaust distorting lie). Here's the truth, there were indeed many Gazans who were poor and didn't have that much. But there were also Gazans who were extremely rich, the gap there was one of the biggest in the world. A lot of Israelis are familiar with the Twitter hashtag that documented wealth and luxury in Gaza before the war, TheGazaYouDontSee. It was based on an Arabic speaking Israeli Jewish woman following the social media accounts of actual Gazans, and sharing in English what they would upload, showing stuff like resorts, hotels, luxury cars that most Israelis I know can't afford. You know, typical concentration camp stuff. You'd have to scroll back in the hashtag a bit to find those older tweets from before the war, some have been captured and shared on Tumblr as well.

Where does the gap come from? Not all of it, but a big part is about who is in Hamas (and who isn't), who's affiliated with Hamas (and who's not), who gets some of the donated billions of dollars being poured into Gaza over the years and mostly stolen by Hamas, who gets some of the money coming from Qatar, who gets some of the money coming from Iran, and so on. In other words, the poverty that existed in Gaza before, existed despite how much money was being invested in it for years, and because of Hamas and Hamas-related thieves, making a profit out of it, while keeping sections of the Gazan population poor and without aid.

BTW, if there would have been a permanent ceasefire now, this would just be replicated. The world would donate more money than ever, and Hamas would steal almost all of it, with a big chunk going to the financing of terrorism (building terror tunnels we now know are more extensive than the NYC subway or the London tube, stocking up on rockets, drones, explosives, assault rifles, RPGs and more, which allow Hamas to continue to fight the strongest army in the Middle East and target innocent Israeli civilians for over 5.5 months) and the rest lining up their own pockets, enabling them to lead a VERY nice, comfortable, even luxurious life.

So which Gazans are the most likely to have eSim compatible smartphones? The rich ones, who are in or associated with Hamas.

And that brings me to the question of what's the real purpose of the eSims campaign.

One aspect could be the propaganda value of such a campaign. They're not just repeatedly asking people to donate money for eSims, many posts are asking for it, while insisting on the vilifying lie that Israel is keeping Gaza disconnected on purpose. It's a bit like the boycott campaign. Starbucks is not actually affiliated with Israel or Israeli policy, it doesn't even have any branches in Israel, it tried in the past, but had to close here. So why in the world would it finance anything Israeli? When an Israeli Prime Minister has to decide whether to finish off Hamas, so that hundreds of thousands of Israelis can safely return to their homes in southern Israel, he's not calling a chain of cafes that doesn't even sell anything in this country. The only current sort-of-link to Israel, is that the CEO is Jewish. So if Starbucks is boycotted and takes a financial hit, that has zero influence on Israel or its policies. Why then has Starbucks been targeted? Maybe partly because of the CEO, which is antisemitic. But most likely, it's because Starbucks is an easy to spot brand when pics of celebs are being taken, which allows people to talk about the boycott. And that's the value, it's a PR move, to get it into everyone's head that anyone associated with Israel should be canceled. To repeat it constantly regarding different celebs, until the message gets through, that the biggest monster in this world, and the one state that everyone should be united against, is the Jewish one.

The financial aspect. Again, I'm not a big expert, but I can't really see how, if people are being asked to pay eSim providers directly, this would be done for financial gain. I could be wrong, maybe there is some way to funnel the money to the people in the campaign instead of regular Gazans, but on the surface at least, I'm not sure how (since they're not asking for the receipts, just the activation code). It could still be about financial gain in the sense that the eSims aren't providing connectivity when the physical infrastructure is down, but they mean some Gazans haven't had to pay for their internet for a while. Which ones? Most likely, the ones in or affiliated with Hamas. I personally do not like the idea of terrorists launching a massacre that is the opening shot of a war, relying on all the donations they can steal after the end of the war to make it worth while, and then as a perk getting their internet paid for by strangers.

Then there's the direct value to Hamas, meaning the option that the campaign is meant to directly help Hamas' terrorist activity, or terrorist goals. Meaning, not only are the eSims going to people who are in or have connections to Hamas, the codes are sent to them specifically to aid them with harming Israel.

Why am I considering this option? For one thing, because we know that since the start of the war, Hamas terrorists inside Gaza have been directing terrorist activity outside of it. One example is a Palestinian terrorist squad, which was directed from Gaza, and was thankfully stopped before they managed to carry out the attack they were planning, and here's another similar example, of a terrorist squad made up of 13 Israeli Arabs, and directed from Gaza on how to carry out mass terrorist attacks, stopped thanks to documents the IDF found while operating inside Gaza. An attack that was successfully carried out and was confirmed as directed from Gaza, is the one where terrorists shot to death several people in Jerusalem, during what was supposed to be a truce between Israel and Hamas, during which Israeli hostages would be released (I heard this recently on TV, online I sadly only managed to find a source that these terrorists had a track record of being directed from Gaza). These terrorist directives from Gaza require connectivity, preferably of the type that Israeli security can't track.

And we do know that our forces do track Hamas cellular activity. For example, we've learned that on Oct 6, Israel discovered weird cellular activity in Gaza, where a lot of Hamas terrorists were activating (physical) Israeli SIMs, allowing them to connect to local networks once inside Israel. This led to a discussion of Israeli army seniors in the middle of the night, on whether this is a sign that something's up, but eventually it was concluded that Hamas terrorists have done this before, so the alarm was (unfortunately) not raised, and the massacre wasn't prevented. In other words, it's possible that eSims can help Gazan Hamas terrorists to direct terrorist attacks against Israeli civilians outside Gaza, and it's also possible that, when Hamas is continuously trying to breach the Israeli border, an eSim could help them if they make it into Israel, by not needing to activate an Israeli SIM, detectable by Israeli security. IDK that this is the intent, but for me personally, I would prefer to err on the side of caution, and be sure that I haven't unknowingly donated an eSim, that might have assissted in the murder of an innocent civilian.

I also mentioned directly aiding Hamas' terrorist goals, not just their activity. This terrorist organization dared launch its massacre, despite knowing the Israeli reaction would be fierce (as any country's would be if its citizens would have been so extremely brutalized), because it relied on using regular Gazans as human shields, then showing the world horror pictures, which would get everyone distressed enough, that they would overlook the massacre, and Hamas' vow to repeat it, and focus on demanding an immediate ceasefire, saving Hamas from being destroyed. We know Hamas uses "journalists," and some of these "journalists" are actual terrorists (generally, there's no free press in Gaza thanks to Hamas) and others to broadcast this narrative of horrors (that if successful, would lead to greater horrors). The eSims campaign has mentioned specifically providing connectivity to journalists, which means serving the ability of Hamas to go on inundating the world with images that fit the narrative it needs the world to believe, in order to save itself, and continue carrying out terrorist attacks (or God forbid, massacres).

Here's the relevant citation from the campaign site, which highlights providing Gaza "journalists" with eSims:

I'm not gonna tell anyone what to do with their money, but I'll repeat my personal POV. I do think we're all responsible for the money we donate, and we can't just give it away to causes that will make us feel good about ourselves, without making sure that the money won't end up in the hands of terrorists, and do real harm. The latter is our responsibility, even if we didn't know it will go to terrorists, because we should check and make sure that we know who the money goes to. The first responsibility we all have is, "Do no evil," right? Even the least awful scenario of what might be the driving force behind the campaign, is still one that financially compensates people affiliated with Hamas, and contributes to a false demonization of the Jewish State. But at the end of the day, this is an individual choice, that each person has to make for themselves.

I hope my reply helps! Sorry for the length, and hoping that you are doing well, and taking care of yourself! xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[veryinnovative]

@jegulus-microfic | january 2, prompt: fire | word count: 1.575 featuring older ceo regulus black and younger intern james potter

“A truffle wagyu burger with hand-cut fries? What does that even fucking mean?!” James shouts into the receiver as he winds through the busy masses of bodies crossing the roads, the traffic light across blinking for him to hurry. “Can’t I pick up something for him from Burger King or something? You know, like a normal human being?” 

On the other end of the line, Barty snorts a derisive sound. “Yeah, you try feeding him cheap chain franchise slob and see how that plays out for you. The fucker thinks Versace is a low-class brand, James. He probably doesn’t even know what the inside of a Burger King looks like. Besides, that place is fire. They have good shit.”

Groaning, James picks up the speed and sets out for a sprint, having missed the bus to Howick and resorted to the most reliable way of transport—his two sets of healthy, always moderately trained legs. 

“Are you running? You better not be fucking running, Potter. You’re going to come back all sweaty and with creases in your cheap-ass button-up and then I’m going to be the one getting shit for not driving you and ruining the image of Regulus Black’s executive assistant—”

“Suck a dick, Barty,” James bites back after barely evading a car, its tires screeching at him in warning. He throws the driver an apologetic smile.

“I’m serious. You meal-prepped, Potter! Asked where the fucking office microwave is, are you out of your mind? Lunch is on company credit, for fuck’s sake. You’ve got an image to uphold now you’re working for Black Enterprises!”

“The cafeteria is too rich for my taste. Besides, I like meal-prepping. It’s calming.”

“Your fucking tuna stinks up the place.”

“Maybe that’s just your big bullshitting mouth.”

“Listen here, you piece of—”

“Oops, entering a tunnel, hear that?” James cups a hand over the receiver and makes a low, grating sound—mimicking the static rasp of a bad cellular connection. “See you!”

He tucks away the phone before entering Beauxbatons, the restaurant Barty had told him to go to because Regulus was craving his guilty snack, which, to James, sounded like an item right off a witch’s menu. Then again, he was a poor twenty-three-year-old who had just had a gap year fresh out of university, lived in a run-down apartment tucked in Southern London, and knew nothing of the expensive tastes a man like Regulus Black possessed. Thirty-something years old and not a single skin blemish. Must be all the fucking truffle and caviar and whatever Boiron guava puree he eats.

“Welcome,” one of the employees asks. Of course, all of the staff are also wearing pristine clothes and have perfectly sleeked-back hair.

“Hi,” James answers, now all too conscious of the developing sweat marks below his armpits and the dampness cooling on his back. “I’m, uh, here to pick up lunch? Sorry, I forgot my order so let me have a peek at my messages…”

The employee blinks like James has grown a second head. “Take-away? Sir, this is a dine-in restaurant.”

Good thing James has come prepared. He shuffles through the contents of his bag, phone in the other hand and tip of his tongue peeking out in full concentration. “Oh, that’s alright. I brought something to carry it with me. I also got some Tupperware if you don’t mind rinsing it beforehand.”

“No, sir, it’s not a matter of containers,” the employee starts, her lips pursed into a tight line. “We don’t do takeaways.”

James stops and frowns, bag half slung over his shoulder. “Isn’t this Beauxbatons?”

“It is.”

“My boss sometimes has people pick up his lunch here.”

“You must be mistaken… We do not lend any type of service like that.”

James sighs. Great. Amazing. Just what he needed. “Right. Do you mind if I make a call? I’m sorry, there must have been a mistake then.”

The employee, undoubtedly taking pity on him and his disorderly state that suggests he’s been running the past ten minutes, nods. “Of course.”

Heaving a sigh, James scrolls through his contact list and taps on ‘Regulus’, never mind that he has been firmly instructed to only call him during emergencies. But considering the sort of day he’s been having, he considers this one.

Regulus picks up after the third ring. “Potter?”

It’s been two weeks and he still won’t fucking call him by his name, going off on tangents about formal office conduct and etiquette. Potter this, Potter that, bridling when he’s called by his first name for a change in an environment that would kiss the soles of his feet if he’d ask. “Hi, I’m at the place you sent me the address of but they don’t do takeaways so I wanted to know what you want to eat. You cool with Wagamama?”

There’s a pregnant pause—all too telling of how Regulus is probably taking a deep breath and doing the thing where he either pinches the bridge of his nose or rubs his eyebrows. “Have you mentioned the takeaway is for me?”

“No, I haven’t.” What difference would it make, James wants to ask. But in a world where Regulus Black is pretty much revered, he is confident it would make a little difference at least.

“Do that, Potter.”

James rolls his eyes before returning his attention to the employee. “He wants you to know his name is Regulus, by the way.”

Her eyes widen. “Reg—Do you mean Mr. Black?”

James clicks his tongue. “That the one.” The employee doesn’t look convinced and James holds up his hand just above his chest. “About this tall? Curly black hair? Probably in one of today’s morning tabloids, not hard to miss. I could put him on speaker if you’d like?”

There’s the frantic wave of her hands, head shaking vigorously. “Oh! You should have told me from the start, Sir. Please, what would Mr. Black like to eat for lunch? I—I’m sorry. We are very exclusive in our service and are most honored Mr. Black has once again chosen our humble establishment—”

“Just,” James sighs, skimming over the menu laminated standing on an easel by the entrance, not possessing the energy to listen to someone go off on tangents about his boss again. Not like he does so internally at night, anyway. Absolutely not. “A truffle wagyu burger with hand-cut fries.”

“Not fries, a salad—” Regulus reminds him over the phone, but James has decided that he will just about eat whatever James decides on.

“Potter—” Regulus tries again and James flat-out hushes him. To his surprise, Regulus actually shuts up.

The employee nods, over-excited. “Oh, of course, an excellent choice. How would Mr. Black like it to be cooked?”

James shrugs. “I don’t know, on a grill?”

There’s a faint garbled noise coming from Regulus that James will definitely tuck away in his memory.

But the employee is too thrilled to be serving someone as pompous as Regulus to notice the lack of culinary terminology James possesses. “Oh, I meant the cook of the meat!”

“The cook of the meat?” James repeats. “I don’t know, whoever is on shift? Regulus, who do you want to cook your burger?”

The employee makes a high-pitched sound at the same Regulus sighs in a very exaggerated, exhausted manner. “Just tell them medium rare.”

“Medium? What is this, a video game difficulty?”

“Medium rare!” the employee chirps, her smile wry. Strands of hair stick out of the previously perfectly pulled-back bun like the situation has created plenty of static to dishevel her updo. “One medium rare wagyu—”

“Don’t forget the fries,” James adds, unable to fight off the grin cleaving his face. This, he loves most—fucking with rich people. ‘Who do you want to cook your meat?’ he’s a genius for that one, an absolute innovative mastermind. Make him head of corporate next at this rate.

“You had to call me for this?” Regulus asks him as James watches the poor girl scurry off to the back, undoubtedly to ring in the order and gush about the perfect, rich, hot-looking Regulus Black on the phone by the restaurant’s hallway.

“It was an emergency. I get you the wrong order and you, I dunno, bite off my head like Miranda Priestly.”

“I don’t know a Miranda Priestly.”

“No? Shame. Would’ve loved her, a real feisty woman that one. She works in the fashion industry, though.”

“Potter.”

James tries not to bark out a laugh. He can’t help it, Regulus is just too easy. “Yeah, I’ll get you your overtly expensive A3-grade cut of meat that could pay for my weekly rent. Didn’t take you for the type of man to get burgers, by the way.”

“That’s why I’m asking employees of a lower tax bracket to pick them up for me.”

Okay, that’s kind of funny. Regulus Black can be fucking funny if he wants to, he just rarely chooses to. James barely masks his snort at it. “Got me there, boss.”

“Get a cab back to the office. And stop calling me boss.”

“My bad, Sir,” James drawls, knowing that Regulus reacts particularly well to this specific formality. 

A second of silence that stretches on for a little too long. James clears his throat, wondering if the line cut off. “Regu—”

“See you soon, Potter,” Regulus speaks, faster than usual, almost like he’s flustered, and with a strange pitch to his words before he hangs up.

[alexawynters]

Scarlet Whispers pt 5

Gif not mine

A/N: I.... as always, don't know how I feel about this chapter. Anything involving the 'horror' theme is... not my forte.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Trigger warnings (let me know if I forgot to tag anything): Mentions of past child abuse, ongoing adult child abuse, stalking, horror, dubcon, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, gaslighting, angst, smut. There will be bits of fluff tho.

Rating: M. Minors DNI

Masterlist with parts 1-4 here

You weren’t quite sure what woke you up later that evening, only that you found yourself staring at the opposite wall, and unable to go back to sleep. It didn’t happen often since coming to live with Wanda, but in the past, a nice warm cup of tea would help put you back to sleep, so you decided that would be your best bet.

As you quietly got out of bed, being careful not to disturb the witch, a light caught the corner of your eye: Wanda's phone. It was connected to the charger and blinking with a new notification. You couldn't help but feel curious. Shortly after arriving here, Wanda had informed you that due to her magic, there was almost no network connectivity available, whether cellular or wifi. None of your gaming devices or cellphone had any network connectivity, so you had to rely on Wanda to update anything for you whenever she left your home. Because of this, you tried not to bother her too much. After all, you didn't really need the most up-to-date patches since you couldn't play online with anyone anyway.

You were confused about why her cellphone had a new notification if none of your devices had network connectivity. You assumed she would have checked her notifications since the last time she went out, which was at least a week ago. Personally, you couldn't stand having any of those little banner notifications and always cleared them as soon as they appeared, even if it was just by swiping them away from the notifications bar without actually reading them. So, the sudden appearance of a new notification on her phone puzzled you. There shouldn’t be any service for it to have come in recently. At least, not if you trusted what Wanda had been telling you...

A heavy, gnawing sensation settled in the pit of your stomach, creating a sense of unease. Undoubtedly, it was a breach of trust. Surely Wanda, of all people, didn't deserve for you to go snooping through her phone. She had always been kind, helpful, and loving towards you. Yet, despite her unwavering support, at the first sign of something that didn't quite add up, you found yourself doubting her. Why didn't you simply ask her instead?

But.. was it the first time? You were having flashbacks to all those moments of deja vu.

Haltingly, you took slow, hesitating steps towards Wanda’s nightstand where her phone lay. You didn’t understand this feeling of dread within you. You wanted to attribute it to your general mistrust of the human race as a whole, but your gut was telling you this was something more. You were in danger, you just didn’t know how or exactly where, but it had to do with the witch who's been sleeping next to you.

Shaky hands picked up her phone, and with your thumb, you pressed the power button to turn on the screen. Unsure of exactly what you would find, and the notification was innocuous enough - a news article regarding some superhero. What caught your attention was the date - it was listed almost ten months since you and Wanda had left your parents’ house. To your knowledge, it’s only been a month or so.

This couldn’t be right. Ten months? No. That wasn’t possible. Did time flow differently here maybe? You wanted so badly to give Wanda the benefit of the doubt, but now that you had opened Pandora’s box, you had to keep going. Hoping you wouldn’t accidentally awaken the witch, you held the phone in front of her face, and it unlocked recognizing her biometrics.

You should probably go to the bathroom to view this without risking waking Wanda up, but your feet refuse to move. Instead, you remained standing there, opening article after article, all of which displayed the same date. Curiosity led you to check the calendar app for today's date, and you had to stifle a gasp as it confirmed what the articles had stated. While you thought it had only been a month or so, Wanda had kept you here for ten months, employing fantasies and electronics to prevent you from questioning her.

Your grip on the phone waivered as you began recalling those moments of déjà vu. As you concentrated and tried to break through the fog of those memories, clarity emerged. You had asked for freedom. Wanda had yelled at you. You had yelled back. Then, Wanda had used her magic to make you fall asleep and erase your memories, essentially starting over and preventing you from realizing how much time was actually passing. How many times had that happened?

Wanda was not keeping you here to help you; she was your captor. The need to escape fought violently against your desire to stay with the woman you had come to adore, even if she had kidnapped and lied to you.

You place the phone back quietly, trying to make your way out of the room as silently as possible. It dawns on you that you should probably pack a bag or something. You have no idea where you are exactly, but if you don't leave now, there's a chance you may never escape.

Quietly, you escape the confines of the house, and head out of the grounds. You aren’t sure exactly where you are going, but you know you have to keep putting one foot in front of the other until you reach civilization. Previously during your numerous strolls across the grounds, you had noticed a vague perimeter, but never had the witch allowed you to go too far. Now you were intent on heading beyond the boundaries she had set, and you were in the dark on what you would find.

Speaking of the dark, even though the moon and stars were visible on this clear night, you had forgotten to grab a flashlight. Or rather, you had elected not to bother looking for one in your hurry to flee. Consequently, the darkness felt more overwhelming than you were accustomed to. You stumbled multiple times, each instance you were praying that you wouldn't accidentally sprain or break something. You weren't sure what was worse - the possibility of facing Wanda's wrath if she should catch you, or dying from the elements if you were to injure yourself and be unable to continue.

As you approached the tree line that marked the boundary Wanda had set, you paused. This was the farthest you had ever been. In truth, you had never even been this close before. Whenever you got within about ten paces, the witch would always give you a gentle warning. Curiosity tickled your thoughts as to what would happen next. Not all of Wanda's magic was mere illusion; she had the power to alter reality itself. What would occur when you crossed the tree line? Would you plunge off the side of Mount Wundagore to a grisly demise, or would you simply step into the woods as they appeared to be?

Either option had to be better to take the risk than to remain a prisoner in what you once believed to be the safety of your own home. Summoning your courage, you stepped into the forest and were surprised to find solid ground. As you continued, each step affirmed that this transformation by Wanda was real - the mountain had truly become a beautiful countryside. Perhaps there was a chance to escape after all. Without hesitation, you ventured further into the forest, hoping to reach civilization on the other side or find a safe hiding spot within before Wanda woke up.

Unknown to you, Wanda had set up protective barriers to alert her if you ever ventured too far. True to form, the moment you stepped beyond the tree line into the woods, her eyes snapped open, blazing with anger. You were leaving. Despite everything she had done for you. Despite the bond you two shared. The witch swiftly leapt out of bed, conjuring a portal not far behind you, determined to catch up with you. Did you really think you could escape her? You would dare? She would teach you. You belonged to her, and she was growing weary of this back-and-forth game you were playing.

As you fled through the forest, it grew denser, blocking out the moonlight. Initially, it seemed easy enough to navigate, but as you continued, the underbrush became thick, causing you to trip every few feet. The seemingly safe forest now loomed around you ominously, your paranoia starting to take over as you heard the skittering of various creatures around you. Logically, you knew they were probably just as startled as you, given how loudly you were thundering through their home. Still, that didn't stop you from feeling eyes on you the further you went, and you began to question if this had been a good idea after all. Unfortunately, it was too late to turn back, and you came to the uncomfortable realization that you didn't even know which direction home was.

A branch snapped somewhere to your left, causing you to turn your head so fast that you wouldn't be surprised if you woke up tomorrow with a crick in your neck. That is, if you managed to survive tonight. You froze in place, your heart pounding in your chest, your breathing loud in your ears as you strained to hear the source of the noise.

It was extremely unsettling for you to realize that the entire forest had suddenly fallen into complete and utter silence. No birds, no animals, nothing at all...

A leaf crunched. This time closer.

Fear seized your heart and you willed yourself to do something. Anything. Run. Hide. Just, something.

Suddenly, you became aware of a low growling sound approaching, and it became clear you were in serious trouble. Why hadn't you stayed inside the house? There must have been a logical explanation for the date change, and Wanda had always been kind to you. Maybe you were just remembering those arguments incorrectly. Now for your misplaced distrust, you were facing imminent death at the hands of something that likely had sharp teeth. Gods, how you despised sharp teeth.

A snarl to your left startled you, freezing you in place as your eyes frantically scanned the forest for whatever had made the noise. You could vaguely make out the silhouette of a creature on all fours not far from you, and your blood felt like it had frozen in your veins. Why hadn't you just gone back to bed next to Wanda?

As you witnessed the shape hurtling towards you from the darkness, a red streak intercepted it, accompanied by the yelp of an injured animal. You blinked and observed a fatally wounded wolf on the ground nearby. Your gaze followed the trajectory from which the red streak had come, revealing Wanda in her pajamas, her hands outstretched with red magic flowing through them, rushing towards you.

"Y/N, are you okay?!" Her voice was tinged with alarm. One hand extinguished her magic to gently hold your arm, while the other remained prepared for any possible threats. With a caring eye, she inspected you for any serious injuries, but found none. Satisfied that you were relatively unscathed, she finally registered your shocked face as you remained silent.

“Y/N what’s wrong? Why are you out here? Talk to me, please?” Wanda extinguished the remaining magic and took your hand, her ire at you dissipating at the fear of you having just been in danger that wasn’t from her.

“I- I had a nightmare. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I just had to run.” You figured that would be believable enough - your night terrors sometimes had you fleeing for your life, you just usually accidentally woke up Wanda in the process before you could get too far. This would be the first time you would have made it out of the bed without waking her up.

Your gaze drifted back to the deceased wolf on the forest floor, and you couldn’t seem to shake the state of shock you were in. Wanda didn’t think anything more of your explanation, your night terrors happened often enough, and you didn't seem to be fleeing from her. It was the only thing that made sense to her. After all, everything had been okay earlier, there was nothing to indicate you were unhappy or would try to leave her.

Relieved that you were unharmed, and not attempting to escape, the witch focused on trying to calm you, as she could see telltale signs of you beginning to disassociate. Gently, she placed a hand to your cheek, tilting your face until you were making eye contact with her. “Don’t look at it, dorogoya, it’s okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you. Let’s go home, okay?”

In that moment, all you wanted was for Wanda to handle all your thinking. Anything else required too much effort, and honestly, you were too exhausted for anything else. You nodded and leaned into her touch, allowing your eyes to flutter shut as you embraced the sense of security she provided. Your hand reached up to cover hers on your cheek, interlocking your fingers with hers.

You heard more than saw the portal she summoned to take you both home, and blindly followed her through it back into your room. Hands still interlinked; she led you into the adjoining bathroom. At this point you had mentally checked out, completely overwhelmed by the night’s events. Under normal circumstances you would be mortified that Wanda was about to see you naked in this state - filthy, covered in scratches from your stumble through the woods, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. It didn’t help that you had entered a non-verbal state.

Wanda made it easier for you. Although this wasn't how she had imagined the first time she would see you naked, her main concern was to clean your wounds and ensure your comfort so you could fall back asleep. Tenderly, she assisted you in undressing, her eyes never lingering or straying where they shouldn't. She only took quick glances to assess any damage. You were grateful for her magic, which meant you didn't have to wait for the water to heat up to the perfect temperature.

She didn't bother undressing herself, but simply helped you into the shower under the falling water and followed in after. First, she helped wet your hair and then lathered it with shampoo before rinsing. The sensation of her blunt nails against your scalp was so soothing that you almost fell asleep. Then, Wanda took the washcloth, lathered it with soap, and started gently washing your body, beginning with your face. As gently as possible, the red head cleansed your wounds and removed the blood and dirt from your skin.

After deeming you sufficiently cleaned, Wanda turned off the water and began toweling you off, wrapping you up in a towel. She then discarded her own waterlogged clothing and began drying herself. While you stood there, feeling useless, Wanda grabbed pajamas for both of you and helped you put them on. After, she then put on her own pajamas before leading you back to bed.

“Do you want to talk about it, Y/N/N?”

You shook your head and climbed into bed after Wanda. Instead of the usual routine where she held you from behind as the big spoon, you surprised her by snuggling into her arms, facing her, and resting your head in the crook of her neck. Although you still had questions about the cell service on her phone and the months you were supposedly missing, Wanda has been kind to you, and she just saved your life. Those questions can be addressed another day. Finally feeling safe again, you allowed your exhaustion to consume you.

[lokisprettygirl]

Utopia (Modern! Daemon Targaryen x female reader) (Non Canon AU) (18+)

Read chapter 1 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 2

Summary: Your life takes a turn for the worst as Queen Utopia sinks to the bottom of the ocean.

Warning: 18+ death and destruction that comes from a ship wreckage, smut, sex, menstrual sex, unprotected sex. Some inconsistency with ship sinking, i researched as much as I could

For a moment you felt numb, the wailing of the siren, the voice of the captain, the red light blaring in front of you made you feel as if you were in a nightmare. The constant banging on your door made you snap out of the trance so you quickly got out of the bed and dressed yourself up as quickly as you could, it was cold outside so you needed to put on warmer clothes.

As you opened the door you saw daemon looking absolutely terrified “Are You deaf? Let's go” he grabbed your arm and walked you through the sea of people swarming everywhere, it was chaotic to say the least.

“Daemon what's going on?” you asked him so he turned his head to look at you, the panicked look on your face made him pull you aside.

“It's sinking…ship is sinking, we need to find our mates and go catch a lifeboat..they trained us for this remember?”

He said to you but you still looked at him all perplexed and dumbfounded. Your mother feared something like this would happen but you made fun of her for watching Titanic a bit too many times.

“But It was all hypothetical and it wasn't supposed to happen..it's not supposed to happen” you mumbled nervously, voice trembled as you spoke so he sighed.

“Look around you ..it's happening so let's get going yes?” he said to you so you nodded before you hugged him tightly for a moment.

“Thanks for not leaving me behind” he chuckled as you said that and hugged you warmly to comfort you.

“Are you joking girl?” He dragged you to the elevator but they were already turned off for safety purposes so both of you stepped downstairs in order to find Cole, Aemond, Emma and most of all lily. You two did find the trio but Lily wasn't there, the wifi connection was blown and obviously there was no cellular service so there was no way of calling her. You could see how terrified Daemon was at the thought of something horrible happening to her.

“Maybe she's already on a safety boat” Cole suggested as the group ran to the uppermost deck, a part of you still felt numb as you looked around and everyone was just running to the same direction, there were more than a thousand people on the ship and considering how Utopia was currently in the middle of the sea the chances of another ship arriving seemed bleak, you couldn't help but wonder if there were enough life boats.

“Titanic was a real tragedy” you mumbled under your breath so Daemon looked at you.

“What?”

“It was real, ships sink ..they sink..it's going to sink –”

“You really need to calm down” he said to you before he turned to the group “Get yourselves on the boat.. they'll try to prioritize the passengers but force your way in somehow”

Daemon took his phone out of his pocket and there was a voice message from Lily that she had probably left before the wifi blew away.

“Daemon something is happening..I'm in the cargo area with Danny and…water is filling in”

Daemon was immediately alarmed as soon as he has heard the message

“Mate.. she's in the lowest deck with a passenger..I'm gonna go get her” he voiced out loud so everyone glared at him.

“I'm sure she's not there anymore..water has got in already”

Aemond told him and Daemon's heart sank, he would never forgive himself if she indeed was there and he was leaving her behind to save his own ass.

“Just get on the boat ..take care of the girls. I'll be right back yeah?” he said to Aemond very firmly but Aemond seemed stunned so daemon grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Are you listening to me or not? You're going to take care of them and yourself, you hear me?” he said again so Aemond nodded.

“Yeah”

Daemon looked at you for a brief moment and handed you his life jacket because he hadn't put it on just yet and he didn't want to waste one more second. He ran inside again and you watched him disappear amidst the roaring crowd of people.

“We should wait for him” you turned as you spoke to the group but Cole shook his head.

“We need to go.. at least get a spot on a boat and then we can stall”

Cole grabbed Emma's hand and she agreed that they needed to go because the boats were filling out quickly and all of you knew that there weren't enough boats.

“I'm not leaving without him..them.. Daemon and Lily.. we should wait” you insisted again as you looked at Aemond but he disagreed as well.

“We need to go”

Before they could say anything else you turned around and ran inside to go get them, you heard Emma calling out for you but her voice faded more and more the farther you got away from them.

What if he was stuck inside and needed help?

He waited for you..he was at your door and he didn't leave without you so you weren't going to leave him behind either.

You ran downstairs and met Dalton on the way, he was screaming at you to go back with him but you kept running. The ship tilted to the side due to the uneven weight distribution because the water was filling in rapidly, your eyes teared up as you felt so utterly terrified in the moment. This wasn't how you wanted to die, all alone and scared out of your mind, as the panic surged you grabbed the railing of the stairs and took a deep breath to calm down. You had to find daemon.

The lower you got the more eerie it seemed, the quietness was chilling, electricity was going in and out and you were practically alone on a ship because all the members were heading for the uppermost deck to flee via the lifeboats.

When you reached the lower decks you realized that water was starting to breach already. You stepped further downstairs and your heart felt still for a moment as you saw Daemon standing half way into the water at the bottom of the stairs that lead to the cargo hold, he was perhaps wondering whether he should tread ahead in the dark. What was Lily even doing there? Access to the cargo area was strictly for the crew that worked the area and unless she was fucking someone from the crew who wanted to show off for her, she had no business being here.

“Daemon” you called out his name as you stepped downstairs, his eyes were bloodshot red with tears and his skin had gone pale.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

His jaw clenched as he questioned you, shivers ran down your spine as you dipped your feet into the cold water.

“We need to go..maybe she is already up there..maybe she left.. ..that message was sent an hour ago, we were still sleeping in our beds” you tried to reason with him and his eyes welled up.

“But what if she's down there, what if she is waiting?” there was a sense of hopelessness in his voice that made you feel sorry for him.

“You can't go there Daemon..it's dark..we don't even know-- “ he turned his head to look at you as you said that, the determination on his face was enough to let you know that he won't stop no matter how much you'd try to convince him.

“Fine..Put this on at least” you turned him towards you as you began to put the life jacket on him as fast as you could..

“Run back darling..you don't have much time” he said to you but you shook your head in response.

“I'm not going without you.. okay? Let's go down there, let's try to find her and then we can leave”

He looked at you a bit shocked as you said that, you had known him for more than a few weeks, why were you endangering your life for him?

“Why are you being so fucking stupid?” He raised his voice at you so you glared at him.

“Are you going to waste these valuable seconds calling me names?” You matched the pitch of his voice so he groaned in response.

“You're so stupid..if you die it's going to be on me”

“No if I die then it's going to be on me okay? Move now” you said to him firmly so he sighed.

Lights were flickering at the other end of the hallway..as you both stepped deeper you realized that water level was increasing very quickly.

“This is ridiculous” you mumbled under your breath so he snickered.

“You're ridiculous for being so fucking brave and so goddamn precious” his voice held anger but there was a softness, perhaps he was taken aback by your compassion or maybe he thought you were a real clinger for willing to die because of him, you didn't think you'd make it out alive to figure that out.

“It's cold..it's fucking cold”

Your teeth chattered as you spoke, it was like taking an ice bath but worse.

The sudden scream you let out made Daemon worried so he placed his hand on your shoulder.

“What is it?”

“I feel something.. something is touching my legs. It's–” you couldn't even finish your words as you swam away from whatever was touching your leg.

“I'll go down and check okay?” He said to you so you nodded, as he went underwater he saw a body, it was of a middle-aged man, probably a crew.

As he came up he gasped, all of this felt unreal to him, there was no way all of this was actually happening to him.

“Daemon there's no possibility she's here” you said to him so he hummed in response, she must have gotten out and she must have made it safely. She had to.

And he was grateful if she had but then there was a tiny little voice in his head that made him ponder over the fact that if she had made it up safely then why didn't she come for him?

She didn't even look for him?

He yelled out her name a bunch of times so you did the same and in response you only heard the sound of the ship creaking and breaking down every minute, as it went pitch dark you gasped in fear so Daemon reached closer to you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

Both of you were submerged in the water to your necks now.

“Let's go..” he mumbled softly as he kissed your forehead and your eyes welled up again..

It took a minute to swim back to the stairs and much to your horror the water was now breaching the lower deck where you two had your cabins, it was only a matter of time before this ship would be completely underneath the ocean.

He grabbed your hand as you both ran towards the uppermost deck but you had to stop in between because you were going to pass out from being so out of breath. All you heard around you was the voices of the crew asking the passengers to calm down and wait for their turns while the passengers were just screaming to get past each other and take the first lifeboat they could find.

The horror you were imagining in your heads was nothing compared to what you witnessed when you went to the uppermost deck, all the lifeboats were filled to capacity and had already departed.

As Daemon separated from you to go look for the others you walked closer to the railing and looked down only to find hundreds of people swimming in the ocean, the water was cold and a storm was about to set in soon so the chances of those lifeboats not returning to take the rest of you was extremely high.

“I can't find them,” Daemon mumbled as he came running back to you.

“Maybe they found a spot” you said to him so he nodded.

Tears kept rolling down your cheeks and he was completely silent too as he witnessed people struggling to stay afloat in the water in such weather.

“We are going to die aren't we?”

“Don't say that”

“It's going to happen” you mumbled again so he shook his head.

“I can't die..I'm only 27”

“That's worse because you're a musician, so you'll join the 27 club..I don't even get to be in that club because I'm 26..I'm going to die and there would be no clubs for me..” he was silent for a moment before he chuckled and wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him in order to provide a semblance of comfort and safety because both of those things were going to get snatched away from you two sooner or later.

The ship was slowly sinking into the depths, and those who still remained aboard knew their own fate was sealed. You looked around and people were just holding onto each other, some of them were crying, some were getting hysterical in shock while the rest stayed purely numb.

There were still some passengers on the board and you couldn't put yourself in their shoes, you came on the ship for a job and to get away from your boring life but these people were here for a week.. for fun, for some perhaps it was the much awaited trip of their lifetime and all of their hopes was going to sink along with this ship

Dreams were going to get shattered, families were about to get ruined and all you felt in that moment was complete and utter numbness.

“Don't let go of my hands alright?” Daemon mumbled softly in your ear as he kissed your temple, he was scared too but he was much better at hiding it then you. When you didn't answer him he tightened his grip around you.

“Don't give up please..you can't give up..you hear me?” he said to you firmly so you nodded even though tears were flowing down your eyes continuously.

The vessel tilted with each passing moment of time before it broke down and began its descent into the deep down water.

Screaming was all you heard as the ship took its final descent into the ocean, you didn't let go of his hands like you had promised, you closed your eyes and left it to the fate, if this was how you were going to die, then be it.

Perhaps you could have survived the ship wreckage, you remembered floating above the ocean on a piece of debris and Daemon was there too. Right in front of you, he wasn't dumb to stay in the cold water when pieces of debris large enough to afloat him were all around him. He still didn't let go of your hands though and for a moment you believed that both of you would survive but then a towering wave rose up from the bottom of the sea.

As the wave drew nearer, you felt your eyes widen with sheer terror. Never before had you witnessed anything as horrifying as this moment, not even when you witnessed the ship sinking. Fear consumed you as you struggled to grasp the enormity of the situation, your heart racing and your hands shaking.

And that was the last thing you clearly remembered before you had slipped into the darkness.

Perhaps you were dead but you remembered struggling to stay afloat as the storm and the rain and the strong waves attacked the survivors of the Queen Utopia. It was nature's wrath and you had no idea what you had done to deserve it but you did.

Your chest was burning as you opened your eyes and you found Daemon watching you with teary eyes. There were bruises on his face, his clothes were drenched and torn from several places but he really looked like an angel in the morning sunlight.

Did you die? Was this heaven?

“Thank the fucking god..oh dear” he cried as he whispered in your ear, his arm clutched onto your weak battered body, you felt the crusty sand underneath you and as you looked around you saw the palm trees all around you.

“Daemon?”

You took his name so he pulled away from you.

“Don't speak”

“We are not dead..how come we are not dead” you looked at him dumbfounded but he didn't have a response for you. He was as surprised by the knowledge as you were.

He regained consciousness at the edge of the shore and looked around only to find himself amidst several deceased bodies. He didn't know how any of you were alive but it was nothing short of a miracle.

“Darling..my darling..when I make you stand up I need you to not freak out alright?” Your eyes welled up as he said that.

“What is it? Am i brutally mangled..I feel pain all over..I'm mangled aren't i?” You asked him so he looked at you from head to toe, there were several cuts and bruises the same as he had suffered but miraculously the rest of you seemed fine.

“You're fine..just don't freak out” he helped you stand up and as you looked in your surrounding you wanted to scream but it didn't come out, there were several bodies lying face down on the edge of the shore.

“Oh god” your voice choked as you placed your hands on your mouth to stifle the scream.

“Look I know this is..the worst possible thing that could happen to us but we have made it so far..i don't know how or why ..but we have” he told you as he grabbed your by the shoulders and made you look at him

“Okay..okay”

“What do you remember from the training sesh …repeat for me please”

“Umm okay..umm fresh water..we need to find water and shelter and-”

“Food..we need to find food until they rescue us alright”

“Who's going to rescue us daemon..where are we?” You asked him a very stupid question considering he was in the same situation as you were, none of you were prepared for this, none of you imagined for your lives to turn upside down so terribly, it was supposed to be a fun job for both of you.

“Someone will find us” he mumbled under his breath to assure himself more than you so you nodded.

Sun was really strong in the daylight but you had a feeling as the evening would arrive the temperature would begin to drop, fortunately for you two there were coconut trees all around you, it was a coconut paradise so collecting them won't be that difficult however it wasn't really an easy task to open them up with no tools on hand.

There were mango trees deeper into the woods so that was a bit of a relief as well for now.

The rest of the day was spent building a shack from the debris Daemon and you had found in the water and like a caveman he had managed to catch fish from the ocean, you really wouldn't have survived on this uninhabited island without him. The fear of being alone would have been enough to make you give up.

“How did you do that?” You asked him as he emerged out of the water with a makeshift spear and a medium sized fish hung on it.

“Watched it in a movie”

You couldn't help but chuckle as he said that. When you two sat down to collect your breaths, the adrenaline and shock from the incident slowly began to dwindle down and the reality was sinking in..

“It won't be easy to make a fire “ he sighed as he sat down but then he tapped his pocket and pulled out a lighter from there.

“Seriously you just had it in there?” you asked him so he gave you a sweet smile. You were worried about the cuts on his body but then you had them as well.

“I smoke.. Lily always warned me that smoking would kill me someday..irony huh?”

“Is it even going to work?” You asked him so he flipped the fancy lighter and sure as well it was working just fine.

“Okay save it..save it..making a fire out of nothing is almost impossible” you said hurriedly so he nodded.

“Eventually we'd need to go fish fir supplies”

“What do you mean?” You asked him so he sighed.

“Check those bodies…maybe they have something on them”

“Yeah”

“I'll do it.. don't worry” he mumbled as he noticed the crushed look on your face.

“No I'll go with you ..I mean they're dead, i'm sure they won't mind”

He was quiet for a moment before he stood up and gave you his hand so you grabbed it and stood up with him, both of you collected the branches and dry leaves from the forest to make a bonfire. This bonfire would not only provide warmth and shelter, but it would serve as a beacon of hope in the darkness, potentially increasing the chances of being spotted by a searching helicopter if they were looking for the survivors.

“It's charred, you're burning it” you couldn't help but giggle as Daemon attempted to roast the fish on the fire.

“Why don't you do it ..aren't you the chef here?”

“Just take out the eyes the next time…eyes freak me out” you groaned as you took the wooden stick he was using as a skewer “I am not a fish person..I don't like seafood” you mumbled softly so he smiled.

“Well apologies honey..this is all we could afford ay”

Once the fish looked perfectly pink from the inside you placed it on the banana leaf you had collected, unfortunately the bananas itself weren't ripe yet but you figured if worst comes to worse you'd have to eat unripe bananas. There were worse things on this island than unripe bananas.

“Perfectly seasoned” he mumbled and it made you smile, the sea water fishes tend to have higher sodium in their bodies so it wasn't really surprising.

“Everything tastes perfect when you're starving”

It was now pitch black, and the only source of light was the reflection of the stars in the dark ocean and the fire that was still burning. You didn't know the exact time, but you knew it must have been well into the next day. To avoid laying on the grainy sand, you gathered a bunch of dry leaves and placed them down like a mat. Daemon also joined you as you rested on the makeshift bed.

He really was hoping Lily and others had made it safe but he still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that you went looking for him knowing how dangerous it was. When he met you he could just tell that you were a good girl but he wasn't expecting you to be so fucking loyal that too with a friend, that was the single most heroic thing he had witnessed in his life which made him feel even worse when he looked back at that drunken night.

“I'm just going to rest my eyes for a moment” you mumbled as you closed your eyes so he turned his head to look at you, thanking his stars that not only were you alive but also had somehow managed to be around him. He couldn't have gone through this without you.

“They will find us, right?” You asked him so he hummed in response.

That was the hope.

His mum always told him to never lose hope in terrible situations. But how long would you two be able to keep your hopes high and spirits up?

Because it's been three weeks since you had been stranded on that forsaken island and nobody had turned up for you two.

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Taglist

@mcufan72 @123forgottherest @shuichiakainx

[girlactionfigure]

AFFECT OF HAMAS FOOTAGE ON ME

LEE KERN

NOV 8

Only woke up from nightmares twice last night. I’m getting better…

Last week I attended a private press screening of footage from the Hamas atrocities. It was 47 minutes of footage recorded by Hamas themselves and captured on CCTV. You can read an account of it here. Attendees weren’t allowed to take phones or recording equipment into the screening. I had a notepad and pen. I sat down in my seat. The entire wall in front of me was a screen.

The film started. The footage was objectively distressing - but I was surprised and impressed with myself that I was immediately okay watching it. I was focused so hard on writing down what I saw that I wasn’t emotionally connecting with the footage. I didn’t have time. I had a job to do. I didn’t gaze too deeply at the HD quality images onscreen as I had to look down at my notepad to scribble notes. I felt like crying a couple of times - when they did something to a baby - or when they did something to a child - but I pushed that down to continue the job - and I was impressively okay. 

I left the screening not really remembering much of what I’d seen. I thought, “Oh wow - I got away with that okay. I can’t even picture anything I saw.”

Later I had a pizza and a walk along the sea front. I made a guy in a shop laugh. 

That night I burst into tears. 

The next day I had to go get a sim card for my phone and I pulled my hat low over my eyes as I burst into uncontrollable sobs while walking the streets. There was sunshine and people sat outside cafes and I was just unable to stop myself sobbing. Deep sobs coming from my chest and my eyes streaming. I sniffled like a child while walking down the street. I couldn’t make it go away. I thought one good cry would get it out my system, but more whimpers and tears just came out of my chest. I was whimpering. And there were images in my mind now. I remembered everything. I saw things Hamas did. Things I don’t have the language or life experience to compute. I was baffled. I don’t understand what I saw. But every part of my body on a cellular level was rejecting it as the most wrong thing that could happen under the sun. It was an accumulaton of every piece of evil since Cane killed Abel. Hamas had mastered the art of sin. And they had conquered morality. They stood in a place where humans were not meant to stand. Where they are no longer human. They were free of all human shackles. They had achieved a power that transcended human frailty but became monstrous in the process. 

Things went like this for the next few days. I’d break into an instantaneous sob. I often didn’t even have an image in my mind when I burst into tears. The screening would be mentioned and something in me happened that bypassed any kind of thought. My head would just bow in tears. I went to stay with some family. They picked me up and within ten seconds of being in the car I burst into tears when asked what I’d been up to. Being in a family home and around normal things was a useful antidote. But I’d still break into debilitating sobs when I recalled what Hamas did or if someone tried to speak to me about it. 

It was also confusing and annoying. I wasn’t depressed! But yet I’d break into tears. I didn’t understand it. I wasn’t depressed but I’d cry like a broken man.

I’d had no sleep since I got to Israel. That obviously didn’t help. I’d visited a kibbutz that had experienced a massacre. That didn’t help. But still I thought I’d be okay. 

The video fucked me up against me will. 

The human brain has built no immunity against the things Hamas filmed. 

It put some kind of splinter in my head. But simply being aware of that and wanting it to be out didn’t mean it would come out. 

I thought I’d improve as days went by but my outbursts seemed to be just as intense. I worried if things continued like this I’d have some kind of mental breakdown. 

I didn’t want to keep seeing what they did to that man.

I was also frustrated because I’d come to Israel to help and I didn’t want to be taken out of the fight with a mental injury. The particular skillset I have means I have to stay immersed in all the ugly shit. I wish I could just pack food for soldiers. If I can communicate well it’s because I’m sensitive and stuff flows into me. I become what I see. People have been demanding my time and I’m trying to help as much as possible but it was getting difficult to be useful to them or myself. In this spirit I didn’t have any macho pride. I’d openly tell people I wasn’t feeling great and didn’t feel shy if I cried in front of them. I didn’t really have a choice. I just wanted to try and find a way to temporarily shovel shit out of my head so I can keep being of service.

The other night I had to move accommodation. I hired an airbnb but then a friend of a friend offered for me to stay at their place whilst they were away. I cancelled the airbnb and I arrived at the accommodation. It was night and I met a neighbour who had the key. We went up the dark stairwell and everything felt off. It was a world of flickering lights and mosquitos. We stood outside the apartment as she searched for the key. There was this terrible noise above us. “What’s that?” “That’s the arabs upstairs drilling.” We went inside and the occupants had left the house a total mess. It all felt grim to me. And the sound of drilling continued upstairs. And the world felt like cockroaches. And I knew once the door shut behind me this would be the most awful night alone. So I plucked up the courage and overcame my politeness and said I can’t stay there. I called a friend and asked them to find me a hotel.

Whilst that was being arranged I waited in the apartment of the woman with the keys and her baby. Toys were everywhere. I was trying to politely respond to her conversation as a cartoon about trains was playing, but I was quietly managing a panic attack as I saw in my mind dead people on her floor amongst her baby’s toys and lying by the fluttering curtains. 

Arranging the hotel was taking time and it was getting late. 

In that time a family friend phoned and I started crying to them. Their daughter then messaged and said I could stay with them so I stayed at hers for the night, cried a few times in conversation, and had my first rocket experience - going into a safe room twice. I got about one hours sleep after trying to kill some mosquitos at four am.

The next afternoon I got a bit better because I tried not to talk about war things with people. I tried to give more territory in my mind to healthy things. I got an hours sleep in the day. I felt better when I transitioned from fear to healthy anger in a video - which was a relief because I was pushing my feelings outwards rather than crumbling inwards. I spoke to a lawyer friend who has worked on cases involving war crimes and has seen things. I got a good night’s sleep and felt good in the morning. I had a few moments of anxiety overcome me during the day. But it feels like they’re becoming less frequent and less powerful. I did cry again after speaking to a pair of siblings whose sister has been kidnapped and who asked me if I’d seen the video. When we hugged goodbye in tears it felt like the first real hug I’ve had since I’ve been here. 

A trauma therapist kindly arranged to see me for free. And time passing seems to be helping. I’m glad I reacted badly because it means I’m a normal healthy human being. A healthy person should be horrified. Only an insane or wicked person could be comfortable with the crimes Hamas committed. 

I don’t know what the language is yet to describe what I saw. I’m not sure what the vocabulary is. They did things that I don’t understand. I don’t understand how they did the things they did. I saw them do things and I don’t understand how they did it. To be able to do what they did is almost a superpower. It’s a superpower I don’t want. To be able to do they things they did and feel nothing but happiness. To be able to inflict that level of cruelty and be utterly indifferent to the people crying.

This is an account of how I’ve been affected. I wasn’t even there. I’m not even a family member of someone taken hostage. I wasn’t on a kibbutz hiding. I haven’t had to bury someone. 

God only knows how the victims will get through this. I can only hope He does know and He doesn’t keep it to Himself. 

We need to help the victims. There has to be an international coalition of love to help them through this. 

As for the terrorists?

I don’t believe in the death penalty, but I believe those Hamas involved in the atrocities have to die. I hope the IDF kill them all. I hope they die in the sun or underground in darkness. I hope they die awake or asleep. I hope they die by bullets or bombs. They cannot be allowed to infect the world with their actions or words. I still don’t understand what I saw in the footage Hamas shot. I can only repeat myself: there is no vocabulary for it. It is almost a superpower to be able to behave the way they did. A superpower I don’t want. To commit such acts of evil - such inventive cruelty - and to have no pangs of empathy or conscience. They look like us and they have hands and legs - but they’re not us. They have eyes but the windows into their souls go into a charnel house where they wash themselves with skulls. We can’t share this world with whatever they are or whatever is inside them. They didn’t open a gate to hell. They are hell. And hell smiled to see its work. They want to devour anything that is not them. Which is any human incapable of doing what they did to women, children and babies for thirty six hours.

They mastered the art of sin and it is something no human should have ever learned to do, because now there are monsters among us. We cannot share the planet with them.

[sociavoidance]

A Tribute to Cho Gi Seok

Having used Cho Gi Seok in numerous presentations and assignments, I believe it is a crime not to have written a blog post about him. So here's my appreciation to my favorite photographer and muse:

Admiration at First Sight

Nostalgia #2, Cho Gi Seok, 2020

While browsing Pinterest, I came across a photo of a girl in a school uniform. She was adorned with a series of small fish or shark figurines that seemed to flow over her head, across her face, and towards her shoulder. It was one of those photographs that gave me a "aha" moment as I stared at it for hours, amazed by the idea of combining a human figure with unconventional prop, unlike the typical table or still life objects seen in other photographs and paintings. I found myself wondering whether these fish were computer-generated, hand-drawn or crafted. Another intriguing aspect was how the girl was framed, with her face seemingly divided or "sliced" into two by the diagonal flow of the fish, revealing only one of her eyes and her mouth. Despite its simplicity, with a plain white background, the photo exuded a sense of movement and life. This was my initial encounter with Cho Gi Seok's work, and it sparked a deep sense of inspiration and admiration within me.

Cho Gi Seok: Biography

Cho Gi Seok, Photographer

"I think flowers are the easiest thing to find that anyone around us can think of as beautiful, It’s like taking a portrait for me. By transforming and recombining them, I try to express my own thoughts through them.” 

Born in 1992, the South Korean photographer aspired to be an art director from a young age. Before pursuing photography, he had experience with graphic and set design, which he incorporates into his work and techniques. His photographs depict abstract themes, combining human figures with unusual props. He grew up in an internet generation, so he draws inspiration from technology and its advancements, which sets his work apart from the rest. 

Gi Seok's Visual Archive: My Favorite Collections

The following are my interpretations of some of my favorite collections and photographs. These are not entirely accurate to the photographers' intentions, but rather my own.

Not Alone, Cho Gi Seok, 2021

This collection of images portrays the sensation of feeling trapped or targeted by judgment or bullying during high school. The subject, positioned centrally, is accentuated by accusatory fingers or phones aimed at the subject. The close-ups and portrait-style shots echo the traditional yearbook photos, and the attire reminiscent of school uniforms adds to the overall theme. The flower prop serves as a symbol of innocence or vulnerability.

The title of the collection therefore imply a dark meaning, indicating that the subject is "not alone" but rather accompanied by dominating forces, accusations, and intimidation. It depicts the isolation experienced when one deviates from societal norms or stands out as different from others.

Alone, Cho Gi Seok, 2022

In contrast to the previous photographs titled "Not Alone", these photographs depict the relationship within a society. Cho utilizes technology as props to symbolize our connection to our phones or digital devices. Despite being closely positioned within the composition, each subject gazes in different directions, mirroring the way individuals search for cellular signals or internet. In instances where Cho omits props, he maintains consistency with his concept and theme through lighting techniques. For instance, in the second photograph, where the heads of the individuals are framed diagonally, a vibrant blue light illuminates them, resembling the glow of phone screens or theater displays that illuminates our faces.

These photographs not only convey their message visually but also capture the sensation of being without a smartphone in a sea of people who possess one.

Both of these collections, in my view, are not only semiotically rich but also visually engaging as photographs. Before I conclude my interpretation, I want to express my appreciation for my favorite collection:

Different, Cho Gi Seok, 2023

These series of photographs hold a special place for me; I find myself revisiting them time and again on Cho's Instagram. The way Cho utilizes props, framing, composition, and colors never fails to captivate me and serves as a source of inspiration. Cho skillfully conveys the notion of being different, drawing parallels with Franz Kafka's depiction of dehumanization and alienation through the symbolism of the bug in "The Metamorphosis." This connection underscores the theme of feeling looked down upon and met with disgust. The muted grays and greens evoke feelings associated with anxiety or dysmorphia, further enhanced by the use of paper-cut eyes that portray the sense of being judged and scrutinized. I've added it to my to-do list to capture a series of photos resembling Cho's "Different" collection, using his ideas and techniques.

Final Thoughts:

Cho Gi Seok truly stands out in a sea of photographers by skillfully capturing complex emotions and exploring unconventional, abstract themes. His work contributes to building a valuable visual library for both amateurs and beginners. While his style may not resonate with everyone, there's much to learn and appreciate from his captivating images.

[thinking1bee]

You Haven't Failed Part 7

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Tags: Spidey!Reader, Venom!Reader, So Much Angst, Fluff, Established Relationship, Graphic Depictions of Injuries, Blood, Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut

Everything Taglist: @sammy90682 @nobody13 @owloftheshadows @captain-josslett @camslightstories @worldovart @finleyfray @acertainredhead @sammm9068 @reginassecretlover @ara-a-bird

Additional Notes: The Venom suit in this fic is heavily inspired from the Spiderman 2 game for the ps5. I loved how the suit functioned and wanted to add that to the story

“These HYDRA agents are like goddamn cockroaches,” you mumbled into your comm.

After a few days of R&R, Nick had to send you, Wanda, Bucky, and Natasha on an emergency mission. He didn’t even take the time to brief you on what the mission was. He handed you all folders and told you to get on the carrier jet ASAP. You flipped through the folder when everyone was airborne and groaned after reading the contents. Somehow, another HYDRA base had sprung up despite HYDRA, as a group, being on the brink of eradication. Nick got word from S.H.I.E.L.D. that the base went live a few months ago and they were back to experimenting on people. He knew that both Wanda and Bucky would have a personal interest in the matter, and you saw just how right he was when Wanda’s face hardened into stone. She shared a look with Bucky, a look of solidarity and understanding, before she remained silent for the duration of the flight. You knew Wanda’s past with HYDRA and respected her need to focus. You gave her a single kiss on the forehead, one that earned you a soft and weak smile, before you turned your attention back to calibrating your suit.

Before leaving for your mission, Tony ran initial diagnostics and tests. He activated the suit and told you to be still while FRIDAY gathered the data needed to ensure the suit was calibrated to your homeostasis. From inside the helmet, you watched as FRIDAY measured your blood pressure, your BPM, oxygen saturation, neural interface, and several other things you didn’t recognize.

“What is all of this for?” you asked him as you watched screens and panels flash in your helmet.

“FRIDAY is measuring and recording all of this data because of a fail safe I installed in my servers. Any time you’re in life threatening danger, FRIDAY will try to keep you alive until you receive the care that you need. Additionally, if you’re in danger, there’s a tracker in the suit. It doesn’t matter where you are in the world. I’ll find you and so will Wanda.”

“Wanda?”

Tony nodded as he typed into his computer. “Considering how much she cares about you, I’m sure she’ll want to be the first to know if something happens.”

You watched as he finished typing, and then he faced you. He gave you your phone back.

“What did you do to it?” you asked suspiciously.

“Use it to watch Pornhub.”

You stared at him through the eyes of your mask, and he waved a hand.

“I installed a copy of Stark servers onto your phone and Wanda’s. This is just in case something happens to me. You’ll still have access to your suit and FRIDAY.”

“You installed literal gigabytes of information on a cellular device?”

He scrunched his face and shrugged. “Yes and no. What you have access to is on a cloud. The cloud is connected to your phone, and the suit can connect to your phone via Bluetooth if need be.”

“Okay, for the 64 million dollar question. What do I look like?”

Tony smiled proudly, and you watched him grab a large mirror before he positioned it in front of you. With Peter’s original suit, the primary color was blue, the secondary color was red, and the spider emblazoned on his chest was blue and outlined in gold. There were also gold highlights sprinkled throughout the suit. With your suit, the primary color was a shiny metallic black. Your legs and a part of your arms were that color. The secondary color was blue, which adorned the majority of your torso, and the spider emblem on your chest was a solid silver. You loved it but you couldn’t help the chuckle that left you.

“What happened to not making it ostentatious, Tony?”

“I can’t not be flashy, kid. I toned it down. At least give me that.”

You laughed as you looked at your hands. You turned them under the light and watched as the fluorescence made the metal shimmer.

“How do I take it off?”

“All you have to do is think about it. FRIDAY will do the rest.”

You did so and watched as the suit began to ripple, the nanotech appearing to liquify before the suit began to retract from your body. You watched as it turned into a thin bracelet on your wrist.

“Cool,” you commented as you eyed the black band.

That happened several hours ago. Now, you were crawling through the freezing vents of the HYDRA base. You were in the middle of nowhere, ass deep in the frozen tundra of Antarctica. It was cold as hell, but luckily, the base was better insulated from the elements considering that it was underground. Your mission details were clear. End the experimentation and free the hostages that were being experimented on. Not much was known about the base, so everyone had to explore while remaining unseen. The divide and conquer method was the faster approach, and you were slowly making your way down through the vents. You tried to eavesdrop on the ongoing conversations, but most of the scientists and guards were either German or Russian. You wished that Wanda or Nat was with you. They would have been able to listen in.  

“I can’t understand a damn thing,” you whispered quietly.

The moment you said it, FRIDAY flashed to life in your helmet. You watched as the AI began to record the conversations, and as they talked, you were provided with subtitles.

“This is so fucking cool!”

You listened for only a second, but you heard them talk about more HYDRA bases popping up all over the world, and how it was easier to recruit more scientists and soldiers now that S.H.I.E.L.D. thought that they had the upper hand. FRIDAY continued to record, but you kept moving. Eventually, you came across a vent, and when you looked through it, you saw what was happening inside. You watched with a mixture of disgust, anger, and sympathy as people were injected with various substances. Screams of pain filled the air. Your jaw clenched as you spoke into your comm.

“Guys, I found it. It’s on floor 7A-3.”

“Understood,” came Natasha’s voice. “We’ll be there in 10.”

The plan was to wait until everyone got there, and then, everyone would come together to plan an attack. Unfortunately, that’s not what happened. The room suddenly went dark before an alarm was activated. Flashes of red light filled the room before a voice spoke over an intercom.

“Intruder alert! Intruder alert!”

You knew for a fact that you hadn’t given away your position.

“Uh, guys?” you asked nervously.

“Fuck! Fuck!” came Bucky’s voice. You could hear gunfire over the comm. “Shit! They spotted me!”

“Bucky, where are you?” Wanda demanded.

“Floor 6.”

That was only one floor above you.

“I’m on my way, Bucky.”

You went to start crawling when agony exploded in your head. A loud, harsh, dissonant alarm blared through the intercom, and every time it went off, the cycle of high-pitched screeches repeating over again, you felt your mind split in two. You cried out, your hands grabbing your head. It was like someone was slamming a sledgehammer onto your skull, the pain tearing through your body.

“Y/n??”

You barely heard who called your name. You flipped onto your back, your body writhing and your back arching as screams tore through you. FRIDAY flashed a warning screen through your helmet, and if you could have seen past the tears that blurred your vision, you would have seen your entire body highlighted in red on the screen. Immediately, that same warning message was sent to Wanda and Tony.

“Y/n? Y/n?? детка?!”

You couldn’t respond to her. Your body smashed into the sides of the vent as screams of pain tore from your chest. The vent wasn’t able to support your thrashing, and before you knew it, the metal groaned and buckled. You crashed into the ground, your body thrown from the safety of the metal column as more tears cascaded down your face.

“Make it stop!” you wailed.

You couldn’t see it, but black tendrils, like the ones you saw in your stomach all those days ago, unfurled from your body again. They started at your chest and spread out to cover your limbs in thick, slimy, flesh. These were girthy, and with every stabbing blare from the alarm, the tentacles writhed hectically.

“Stop!” you cried out again.

The tentacles kept moving. They covered every inch of you until you were cocooned in a black mass of tissue.

“Stop it!”

The tentacles flattened and melded together. Like a second skin, it covered you thickly, the unknown mass imbuing you with a strength you’ve never felt before. You felt that second layer harden into something flexible, and then, you felt fury explode inside of you.

“I said STOP IT!!”

Those words had come from your mouth. You screamed them, but that wasn’t your voice. It’d been too deep, too inhuman to be you. Your eyes snapped open, and you no longer saw the flashing screens in your helmet. You realized rather quickly that you weren’t in your suit. You were in something different, something new. Your gaze now pulsed when the alarm rang, the room spinning around you, but you felt a mental clarity that you never had before. Your furious gaze turned to the source of your pain, and you extended your arm, your intention to web the speaker and rip it off the wall. However, instead of webs, was a massive ball of tentacles. They exploded from your arm and crashed into the wall. The cement cratered under your strength, dust and fragments of the destroyed speaker raining onto the floor before the tentacles retracted and folded back into the black suit you were now wearing. You took a deep breath, the haze of pain clearing from your head as you stood to your feet.

You were covered in nothing but black, the spider emblem on your chest now a stark white instead of silver. You felt great. Powerful. Unstoppable. God-like. Every breath you breathed went straight to your cells and you reveled in the way you felt so refreshed. You heard a small pop before something ricocheted off you, and you looked up to see that one of the agents had just tried to shoot you. The bullet that deflected from your body embedded itself into the nearby wall. You clenched your hands into fists, your neck and shoulders rolling as you felt the tension bleed away from you. There was no one here besides you and your targets, and this time, no one was going to stop you from wreaking hell in this room.

Part 8

[totheidiot]

why i would be the avatar of the following entities

post heavily inspired by the wonderful mutual who is @cult-of-the-eye ❤️ i missed the entities who i couldn't figure out what my connection to would be. the list is in alphabetical order for organisation. a few heavy topics ahead? but i try not to get too detailed with it. post is basically my connection to the fear entities and correlating my life experiences with them.

one. the corruption : i kid you not, if i was actually an avatar, this is who i would be. without a single doubt. let's see, not to going to get too in depth, but my best friend died of dengue a while back ya da ya da ya da after she died, i fell in love with her. disease. love. fucked up stuff. you get it.

two. the desolation : there was a fire they would burn outside my old school, to burn garbage and all of that. after a particularly difficult day at school, i would always walk over there and sit myself near the fire, just stare at it. sometimes i would burn little things like paper when i was feeling very angry. that pit of fire was a friend and i had liked to watch it burn. also self-destructive behaviour.

three. the end : refer to the corruption bits. my best friend's fate would tie into the end for me. also, my most major fear, ever since i knew about the concept of having a fear, was the fear of losing loved ones. so.

four. the extinction : okay, so last year, i believe, a thing happened in my city in bangladesh. for a night, the power of the entire city shut down. no electricity in any household, the generator was shut off, not even cellular data was working. so i am talking, no lights, no internet, not even a way to call by phone. load shedding, we had to use candles. it was a weekday night too, streetlights weren't working properly and there was no way for my father to contact us to tell us that he was safe. my mother thought that the prime minister had left the country for us to suffer. pure chaos. basic technology would not work, ovens and refrigerators needed an electrical connection obv and phones were useless. i was talking about this event and the post with my sister the other day and she suggested to add this to the dark, because no light but i feel like it fits the extinction way better for reasons i cannot formulate.

five. the eye : quiet, perceptive friend who just looks odd. you know the type, that was me. i was obsessed with gathering knowledge, i had a random fun fact for every subject. i prided myself with knowing a little about everything. furthermore, i have got this uncanny ability to just Know people's secrets?? okay suppose, my friend has a secret and she's hiding something from everyone. like it's a totally small thing, she likes someone but she doesn't want anyone to know. chances are, i will know. whether it's by observing their body language or thinking it over or just lucky guess, i will know. and the thing is, i will pretend not to know too. girl decided to tell us about that crush i will act shocked like everyone else, for no reason and then i'll go up to them in private and be like, "hey, i knew it. i guessed it last week."

i don't have anything for the meat related fears (fortunately?)

six. the lonely : *puts on a presentation on why i should be a lonely avatar and goes to the first slide* your boy has Social Anxiety. but in all seriousness, isolation, loneliness, it's all second nature to me. i get bothered when people are with me and even then, it feels like they are not? like people will be talking near me and it would feel like i am not even part of their world like. it's like watching a video of people talking like i am not involved in that, even though they are right next to me. they will try to include me in their conversation maybe, but that's not where i am? how can we exist in the same plane?

seven. the spiral : this is a fun one ! most mutuals probably already know this because i talk about it so so darn often but irl, most people actually call me the idiot ! all of my friends from bangladesh, almost every classmate calls me the idiot, to the point where i actually rarely used to hear me real (albeit dead) name spoken out loud. this kind of ties into the "there is no such thing as a real name" thing. also sometimes, late in the night, i will see and remember things and wake up the next day to find that it never happened ever. once, i was talking to my mother and i mentioned her like going to a hostel because she told me stories of how she attended a hostel in eighth grade and she starred at me. she told me that she had never attended a hostel and i was like, yes?? you did?? you always told me about jt?? and she was genuinely scared.

eight. the vast: talked about this once before but once, i was listening to the magnus archives three in the morning, it was one of the space episodes. got scared and suddenly, i had that urge to look out the window and i saw stars. in a light pollution world, where seeing the moon is uncommon, i see five or six stars. still to this day, do not know if i was imagining things.

that is it for all the spooky happenings that are happening.

[nobodysdaydreams]

I don’t know what the word is for the kind of environment ASOUE (A Series of Unfortunate Events) and TMBS (The Mysterious Benedict Society) have, but it needs a name (quirky fantasy? Neurodivergent fiction? Idk…) but I’ve noticed enough people say they are similar, and I want to make this genre a thing. Here are some similarities I noticed that I believe describe the genre well:

• the adults are almost all neurodivergent and/or traumatized and no, they’re not handling it well. Especially the villains. • Most (if not all) of the children are either child genius or bully archetypes. Most will be neurodivergent as well. Bonus points if their neurodivergence and story arcs parallel the adults.

•People dress like they are either going to a funeral during the Great Depression, a church service on Easter Sunday, boarding school, a fancy cocktail party, or like the concept of neon/highlighter threw up on them

•everyone has a tragic backstory. Everyone. Even the quirky side kick who only has a few lines. At least one of those few lines will suggest something awful happened to them.

• Orphans

• Villain has to have that one person he/she cares about to show that maybe they do have a heart after all (aw). Examples might include an ex-girlfriend or adopted kid

•the heroes and villains have tons of cool tech and inventions that we can only dream of (e.g., mind control), but despite all these smart characters with a knack for inventing, no one can make a smart/cellular/mobile phone. It’s their one weakness. Everyone has to use landlines. Everyone. This weakness (which affects all characters in this genre, villains and heroes) is super useful, especially when a character needs to make a call, but the writers don’t want them too, one can simply have them frantically search for a phone to no avail, or have a villain cut the phone lines and there’s nothing anyone can do about it

• some characters require such bland underacting that the character’s voice and expression remain almost completely neutral throughout the whole show no matter what happens. Other characters will require the hammiest most overacted performance of a lifetime such that any minor inconvenience that befalls their character (e.g., having to wait 5 minutes) might as well be the end of the world (personal side note: the second one is a dream role for me)

•whimsical travel. Like in a trolley, blimp, hot air balloon, old timey steam train, submarine, or some contraption someone made out of spare parts

• the villain has some personal connection to the heroes, whether it’s a close connection (e.g., being their adopted uncle) or a distant one (e.g., being their mother’s ex’s sister’s former love interest)

•secret societies and organizations that are cool with employing children (or at least allowing it). It’s considered ok/necessary when the good guys do it, very bad when the bad guys do it. The kids in the bad guy organization can either be groomed victims out to grab their redemption arcs (SQ, our boy), or one dimensional bullies (looking at you Carmelita and Book Martina).

• a genius toddler/baby with a special power that can range from super strong teeth to being psychic

• Twins or triplets are not only characters in the show, but the fact that they are part of a set of multiples will be important for the plot somehow (e.g., the Benedict brothers, the quagmire triplets, the denouement triplets, whatever Jillson/Jackson are)

• There are dramatic flashbacks to character’s tragic pasts to show the audience where it all when wrong.

• Few, if any adults, are truly both mentally stable and living in reality. I know I covered this on my “neurodivergent that’s not well adjusted” bullet point, but it seems important enough to repeat

• The villains are theater kids. Whether they used to overact performances at the orphanage and now do magic tricks for their captives, or use their old theater group as henchmen(and women), they live for the dramatic arts

• the villains were at one point told (either by critics or unimpressed parents looking to adopt) that they weren’t that good at theater, which increased their motivation to either join an evil organization, or pursue a STEM or business degree to begin their own evil organization. This has increased their mental instability as they still try to incorporate the dramatic arts into their villainy and waste a lot of time that could be spent plotting things figuring out how to make their villainy more theatrical

• when the heroes try to tell people the villain is evil, no one believes them

• despite fighting literal children, the villains are not juvenile and present serious threats (murder/world domination)

• despite the previous 2 points, the villains are repeatedly defeated by orphan children with an assist from the villain’s own hubris/stupidity

• musical numbers are involved, even if they are flashback staged performances those count

•villain’s side kicks still roll with him/her despite the abuse to the point where the audience genuinely wants better for them and want more information about them and their tragic past (but their stories usually won’t really be focused on, heck they might even be written out completely. With a few exceptions of course)

• we’ve already discussed that the kids are “genius or bully” types but more broadly the characters are also “books or theater” good guys love books and libraries, bad guys love drama and the theater. We’ve covered the bad guy = theater connection, so focus on the books/reading = good guy connection. The good guys will constantly hang out around libraries, have libraries in their house, be librarians, be friends with librarians, etc. someone (either a bully or villain) is obligated to make fun of one of the good guys for reading at least once. This also implies that a theatrical character who loves reading would be perfect for an antihero or morally grey character.

• the time the story takes place is very vague, but has elements of fashion, cars, and style that suggest the 1950’s-2000’s or more generally sometime in the 20th/21st century

Feel free to add to this list

[deathlygristly]

I really need to stop checking other platforms for news. Yes, they can be more local. Yes, they can be more diverse with groups I've never really interacted with so I learn more about others.

On the other hand I am starting to feel how social media can stress people out and make them more cynical and negative, the upper middle classness of the local reddit is downright depressing, and I am not always able to stop myself from replying when I shouldn't.

Anyway I just saw someone claiming that the military helicopters delivering supplies to the mountains and the official emergency workers and help from FEMA in our mountains must be recent since it's not what they've heard about, and I don't even know what to do with that.

I linked a small easy to understand local story talking about the Swannanoa fire chief begging people to stop spreading misinformation and I said you're getting Russian propaganda from whoever told you the government isn't here helping. Maybe that will help, I don't know.

It's just...man.

And they were talking about the concert and saying at least those musicians would help when the government wouldn't. The concert where the governor held a press conference beforehand!

Also how could they have not seen all the videos like this one?

But that's what I mean about other social media being more diverse and showing me groups I don't interact with so I can learn more about them. I have no connections to people whose media diet consists solely of propaganda, so I tend to assume that people know what they're talking about and that they have good information and they're just trolling because they're from a troll farm or they just like fascism.

So I guess this experience is good for learning about people who may not be fascist at heart but who only listen to media run by fascists.

It's just...if no one in the government was in the mountains helping, there'd be so many more dead people. People would have starved or died of dehydration. People would have died from diseases caused by whatever water or food they could find being extremely contaminated. The entire region would still be closed off, because the state department of transportation wouldn't have done any work on the roads.

The N.C. Department of Transportation crews and contractors have reopened more than 600 North Carolina roads, mostly in the western part of the state, since Hurricane Helene. Transportation crews were nearly done cutting and moving debris to the shoulders to reopen roads, NCDOT officials said Monday. They created over 4,100 debris sites on roadsides. "Damage estimates from what we have been able to assess to this point are up to several billion dollars and we’re not done,” said state Transportation Secretary Joey Hopkins in a news release. “The damage to our roads and bridges is like nothing we’ve ever seen after any storm, and this will be a long-term recovery operation. But we will be here until western North Carolina can get back on its feet.”

Also if the government wasn't helping no one would be able to communicate that they were all there dying of starvation and lack of clean safe water.

In the catastrophic aftermath of Helene, “disaster roaming” has been enabled in North Carolina to help connect residents who may be otherwise offline. Disaster roaming allows any phone on any cellular network to access any available network to connect to, regardless of provider. Service providers are required to activate disaster roaming during the following situations: When the Federal Emergency Management Agency’s (FEMA) Emergency Support Function (ESF-2) is activated When the FCC’s Disaster Information Reporting System (DIRS) is activated When the Chief of the FCC’s Public Safety and Homeland Security Bureau issues an activation Public Notice upon request of a state When a state has activated its Emergency Operations, activated mutual aid, or proclaimed a local state of emergency

The government had to act to get disaster roaming enabled.

I just....god. What do you even do about this level of propaganda?

[vang-feraligatr]

If it helps: "this thing" is a cellular phone (a cell phone or just a phone for short). It's a small device designed to allow for communication over long range. Each cell phone has a unique number associated with it - by entering the number of any other phone, you can connect to it and speak to whoever owns the other phone (assuming they accept your call)!

That's the basic idea, at least. Modern cell phones are also tiny, portable computers - devices that can automatically solve math problems and perform a number of other functions too. They can tell the time, track appointments, play music, and much more!

Most importantly, however, modern phones can access the Internet, a worldwide (and apparently interdimensional, though it wasn't designed to be) network that connects almost any computer to any other computer. Through the Internet, humans are able to collaborate and share information on a truly staggering scale - imagine if everyone in the world could talk to everyone else, working together to solve problems, share news and information, and even just have fun and play games! That's the Internet - a town square for all of human civilization, with a nearly complete repository of all the knowledge, discoveries, and information known to anyone, anywhere.

Just remember that not everything you see on the Internet is true. Everyone can access the Internet, but they aren't required to tell the truth. Some people share information they mistakenly believe is true, and some people just lie! Ask your partner - they probably know a thing or two about navigating the Internet.

In particular, you might want to ask them to show you Wikipedia - a sort of library with basic information on almost anything humans know about - and YouTube, where you can watch and listen to recordings of just about anything. Do NOT let him show you - or look at - the news from our world. Trust me on that one.

..............................................................

That's a lotta words......................................................................................

...........................................

So... this thing's a really amazing thing, huh?

........................................

The power of science is amazing! Communication across the world! Entertainment from across the sea! Requests and missions taken right after they're posted!

Why, there wouldn't be many problems at all with this stuff, huh? With instant communication, so many problems could be solved!

And with so many different things at my claw tip too! Information galore!

But... people lie on this stuff? Why would anyone do something like that? Just... spread misinformation? That's not very nice. And if it's unintentional, people should help them understand!

And... I shouldn't look at the news? Why not? I'm sure people would be saying nice things th

[woodpengu]

I feel like I walk a social tightrope with everyone I know... but I've been doing something about it.

There's the convenience of all-access communication at everyone's fingertips... and the inconvenience of all-access communication at everyone's fingertips. More than half my life ago, the former was a wonderful experience. IM, text messaging, cellular phones; all that 'at the click of a button' hype, was grand. But now... I don't have positive thoughts towards the 'all-access pass' instant communication affords.

It makes me feel like a bad friend, family member, and person in general, to be honest.

There's a list of reasons reaching out to people doesn't happen as much from me. But it doesn't matter how much I explain it... correspondence and interaction from others has dwindled exceedingly much over the years (especially since I put a stop to people pleasing and started holding boundaries more firmly; and yes I've heard the supportive rhetoric, but that's not the point I'm making). And the justification is always the same:

"You don't reach out or respond as much, so I realized you don't actually like me, and I didn't want to upset you further by bothering you."

I'm not joking... At no point was I asked my actual feelings, but a long lull in communication would be met with this [^^^] kind of response. Which hurts. A. Lot. It feels unacceptable to be introverted, ambiverted, chronically ill, or even merely comfortable with my alone time. And I could choose to be upset about this, to rage-quit on the friends and family that frame the above kind of response to me reaching out and going "Hey, it's been a spell! How are ye?" But I'm a social enough creature that has learned from personal experience (and conversations with my therapist and others) that I need community as much as I need the alone time (ambivert). It is about finding the right community and alone time, but having it both in a healthy way is an essential goal.

So... I put the high EQ hat on with the Jungian cravat and exercise the curiosity mindset with a gentle correction of the assumptions listed in that one, potent, charged, personal statement. Doesn't matter if that person is pathologically anxious, traumatized, a people-pleaser, or the like. A discussion follows. Because I'm not there to soothe emotions while disregarding my concerns. I want the friendships, conversations, events, and hangouts... warts and all... with the understanding that we're organic beans that need to retreat to our own bubbles but also have friendships/connections with others external to that one relationship. And it does hurt when someone decides - without my consent or awareness - that I hate them instead of relating back to themselves (their busy schedules, off days, time with other friends, hobbies, etc).

I still don't leave myself constantly available - my personal bubble is the first sacred space I cater to every day because it is the place I can never leave, and its wellness determines the distance and duration I can step beyond it to engage with others and their individual complexities. But the personal relationships I have are stronger. This because of the discussion and the renewed understanding that the instant communication is a convenience I'll use when I have that willing availability (or in emergencies). It doesn't ever dictate my feelings about a friend or family member. Quantity doesn't merit closeness for me.

Consider this [all the above] my consciousness-expanding bit o tid for the day. A message from personal experience as one who has at one point been on the "I thought you were mad at me" side and the "It's been awhile" side. And I wish that wherever you are, a touch of relief and a moment of joy offer you their grace.